To most students' relief, their worst fears didn't come true—no one did badly enough to be held back a year.
Everyone had managed decent grades.
So those students who usually slacked off and played around were now grinning from ear to ear.
Harry just rolled his eyes. The school is way too lenient on first-years. Honestly, at least half these kids deserve a good hard lesson they'll never forget.
He vaguely remembered a certain female Headmistress from somewhere down the line—ugly as a toad, always dressed in hideous pink outfits. What was her name again? Which book was she in?
While Harry had no love for her personality—or her fashion sense—he had to admit her harsh disciplinary policies for students were solid. This herd of soft little sheep needed a firm hand.
As his thoughts wandered, Harry tucked away his report card.
Ron received his from Professor McGonagall, swallowed hard, and cautiously opened it.
When he saw the results, he blurted out in joy, "Whoa! I passed! I don't have to repeat the year!"
He ran around the common room waving his report card at everyone, as excited as a puppy in heat... at least from Harry's perspective.
"Look, Neville! My grades!"
"Congrats!"
"Hey, Seamus, check this out!"
"Not bad!"
"Harry! Look at mine!"
Harry glanced at it. Mostly A's, with two P's. "You're awfully proud, huh?"
"Of course! I didn't flunk!"
"Well, I'm heartbroken then."
Ron: "…"
Just then, Harry's report card "accidentally" slipped from his hand and floated to the ground.
Dean bent down to pick it up.
His eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Oh my god, you guys won't believe Harry's grades!"
A perfect line of zeroes stared back at them.
A crowd instantly gathered.
Come one, come all! Behold the legend!
Harry modestly retrieved his report card and said humbly, "Just average, really. I'm nowhere near as good as Weasley here."
"Oh, Ron, what did you get?"
A dozen curious eyes turned toward Ron. He clutched his card like it was a state secret, sweat beading on his forehead.
Meanwhile, Harry had already pulled Hermione aside and left.
"You and your twisted sense of humor..." Hermione muttered helplessly.
"I can't help it! He just had to shove it in my face. I try to stay humble even with grades like mine, but he insists on showing off. Someone had to remind him there's always someone better out there," Harry said with mock solemnity.
"…"
"When are you leaving school?" Hermione asked.
"Probably tomorrow. I haven't packed a thing, still have a pile of books to return to the library. I don't even know where Cute One's run off to again. Plus, I've gotta say goodbye to Hagrid, Blackie, and Snowflake… It's a lot."
"Then let's go together."
"Mhm."
Harry had no idea Hermione had actually packed everything already and had planned to leave today.
...
Students were scheduled to leave over the next two days.
While walking through the school, Harry saw several classmates already dragging large suitcases behind them. The school felt increasingly empty.
Farewell after farewell reached his ears, making his chest tighten a little.
Tch. So I'm just a basic guy after all—afraid of being alone.
...
When he got back to the dorm, he found that the wardrobes were nearly empty, and most belongings had been packed up. The room suddenly felt much larger.
Seamus, Dean, and the other boys were leaving that very day.
Time for Harry to kick into gear.
He quickly stuffed all his things into two trunks, making sure everything was ready to go tomorrow. As for Optimus' birdcage? He'd tossed it long ago—too cramped. Besides, Harry didn't want to be seen lugging around a cage. He already had more than enough baggage.
Travel light, always—got it?
So Harry just let Optimus fly freely. He was a falcon, not an owl, after all.
Then, carrying a massive stack of books, Harry fled the suffocating room.
Before leaving, he gave the dorm a big middle finger.
I'm out of here. You're not scaring me anymore.
Then he returned the books one by one to their places in the library.
He had just one item left in his hand.
It was the photo album Hagrid had given him—the one filled with pictures of his parents.
Harry didn't really need it. Just knowing what they looked like was enough.
After thinking it over, he decided to give it to Severus.
He figured, knowing Snape's repressed personality, the man probably didn't have any pictures of Lily. He'd definitely want them badly.
So Harry went down to Snape's office in the dungeons and knocked.
"Who is it?" came the low voice from inside.
"Water meter inspection... ahem, it's Harry."
"…Come in."
The door creaked open.
Harry gave the door a curious look. Voice-activated? Fancy.
Snape stared at him coldly as Harry looked around the office with interest, practically studying every jar and object in sight. His eyes practically glowed with suspicion.
He still didn't get how Harry could stand there so calmly in front of him, never showing a hint of fear.
"What do you want?" Snape finally asked.
Harry retracted the hand that was just about to touch a suspicious-looking jar.
"Oh, uh, I brought you some photos."
"I don't need them. Leave."
Snape clearly had no clue what he was talking about.
"They're of my mother and her classmates. You sure you don't want to take a look?"
"Alright then, I'll go."
"Ahem… wait…"
"I get it. I'll shut the door on my way out."
"No, it's just—"
"Relax, I won't ever offer to show them again."
"Stop, let me see them—"
"Why? What do you even want with them?" Harry asked suspiciously.
Snape's face was all kinds of awkward. "I might recognize some of my classmates. I lost all my photos… I don't even remember what some of them looked like."
"Oh, okay."
Harry opened the album on the table. The first few photos were of Lily during her school years—some solo, some with friends.
They moved, of course, like short clips.
Snape was instantly absorbed, eyes locked on Lily. Everything else disappeared from his awareness.
Poor guy… Harry felt a sudden wave of sympathy.
"Looks like this was my mum's graduation class. There were a lot of people that year," Harry said, growing curious about the big group shots.
He started comparing who looked the best, and which professors looked the most embarrassing.
"Ha! Check out this pretty-boy here—he looks like such a bottom. So much like Malfoy. That's gotta be Malfoy's dad, right? Totally fruity. Look, he's staring at my mum—wait, don't tell me he had a crush on her too? Haha…"
A voice, quiet and cold:
"That's me."
"GAH—" Harry squawked like a duck being strangled.
Kill. Me. Now.
Thankfully, Snape had zero interest in talking to Harry. He just went right back to looking at the photos.
Harry slunk out of the office in shame. Snape didn't even notice him leave.
As soon as Harry got out, he wanted to slap himself.
You idiot. You just had to open your mouth.
Still—who would've thought teen Snape was that good-looking? Now he looked like someone's grumpy uncle.
...
Back in the office, Snape's expression gradually darkened.
James Potter had appeared in the photos.
He glanced at the door to confirm Harry was gone, then quietly opened a drawer and pulled out a tiny pair of scissors.
After another glance toward the hallway, he carefully trimmed out every part of the photos that featured James.
Then tossed the scraps straight into the trash.
When he was done, he let out a long breath.
And smiled.
-
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