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“Potter!” The boy’s eyes snapped to meet Snape’s on reflex. “Stay behind after class. I need a word.”
Potter eyed him carefully, warily, then nodded once. “Yes, sir.”
It was a month into classes, and Snape was begrudgingly impressed. He could tell which students Potter had taught—half of the sixth years, a few seventh years, a lot of fifth years, a few fourth and third years, and one second year. He could tell, because these were the students that treated every exercise like they were fighting for their lives, cleverly, ruthlessly, warily, and with an air about them that said, to someone as observant and experienced as himself, that they could and would kill if necessary.
(Clara Bennington, the second year, was especially terrifying to her peers. A nice change, seeing as they had mercilessly bullied her the year before for believing Potter’s claims about the Dark Lord.)
The thing about Potter’s students, however, was that most of them refused to show their hand. On the surface, none of them seemed to know anything beyond the appropriate year level, but sometimes he saw things that made him wonder if that was really true. Namely, when he saw a couple of Potter’s third years wordlessly summon wands to their off-hands after disarming their opponents. A good strategy, but one that seventh years shouldn’t be capable of, let alone children who would’ve been twelve when they learned it.
Frankly, Severus just needed to know what he still could teach Potter’s students, because it was getting ridiculous.
Potter made his way up to Severus’s desk as his friends left the room with the rest. Severus didn’t doubt that they would be loitering outside his classroom door, waiting for their third. The rest of the Gryffindors traded looks with Granger as they left, appearing to take something about her expression as confirmation that Potter would be fine.
He made a mental note of that to look for in other students.
“Professor?” Potter had been unfailingly polite to him this year, and while it was suspicious, he wasn’t going to worry about that today.
“Your students are far enough ahead of their classes that it has become an issue. I need to know what they can still be taught, so they have something to do during my class periods.”
Potter gave him a long look. “I kept them at year level, sir.”
“And, as you well know, the rest of the students are not at year level. Save the first years, most of them had no teaching on this subject last year, and inconsistent teaching before that. The fourth years are the best off, having had Lupin and Crouch, much as it pains me to say, and your third year students could wipe the floor with them on a bad day.”
Snape decided not to mention that some of them were in fact well beyond year level.
Potter sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “Can I be frank with you, professor?”
Severus raised an eyebrow but inclined his head.
“Most of those students are mostly self-taught magically. Hermione got ahold of Remus’ lesson plans and past spell lists and made pamphlets for each year group. I taught the shield charm, expelliarmus, stupify, and a few others they should have known, but mostly we ran speed and accuracy drills and discussed tactics and how to survive in life-threatening situations. When to run, when to stun, and when killing is your only option.”
Severus snorted. “And you would know?”
Potter raised an eyebrow. “Kept Quirrell under wraps, did they? I thought he, at least, was common knowledge.”
“Quirrell was dying anyway—“
“And as soon as a realized my touch burned him? I went for the kill. I knew what I was doing, and I’ve never regretted it for a moment, despite whatever bullshit Dumbledore has tried to feed you. I have survived this long, professor, because I do what it takes, fuck the consequences.” It would have sounded arrogant if the boy didn’t just sound tired. “So that’s what I taught. If you’re in a fight with someone better than you, and you know they’ll kill you or worse if they beat you, you start throwing cutters. A first year can do a string of diffindos without draining their cores, and a third year can manage a passable reducto or bombarda. Legal, taught in school, if not in defense, and effective. No Unforgivables or even hexes necessary.”
Snape’s eyebrows were nearing his hairline. That was a much cleverer approach than he would’ve expected from the boy.
”While the information is useful, none of that answered my question. How would you suggest keeping them engaged in classes?”
Potter stared off over Severus shoulder for a minute, then met his eyes. “I suggest using them as assistants of a sort. Examples, maybe. Only a few of the ones I taught were anything special when it came to magical ability, so everything they can do is entirely within the realm of possibility for the rest of the students. Most of mine taught themselves and each other, the fifth years this year are especially good at finding different ways to explain theory to each other, so you might try that, just make sure you correct them if they have faulty information.
“In the cases of the ones who missed all of their practicals last year, I would suggest having a couple weeks where you go over the most important spells they should have learned last year and discuss why they are important. Make a discussion out of it and use my students as jumping off points, going over different applications for different spells. That’s what I did when they didn’t want to learn spells from earlier years. I would say make a game of it, but that would be out of character for you and I’m sure whatever action you take will be subtle enough that I won’t be implicated.” The boy thought about it a bit longer. “I know most of them still have study groups, so they won’t stop learning outside of class, and I still get requests for new research topics. Hermione and I have started in on Healing and Warding, so I’ll try to set them off in that direction so that the rest have a chance at catching up.
“I already sent the fifth years down the rabbit hole of spells from other classes used in the context of combat, mostly as a ploy to get them to study for their other classes more, but it’s worked so far, as has pointing out that some plants can be used to guard things, or need to be defended against, as well as having the muggleborns and halfbloods coach the purebloods on blending in with muggles in a pinch. Won’t be able to help with curbing the paranoia, though. Umbridge was better for teaching the concept of constant vigilance than Crouch was, my teams are bloody paranoid. Probably won’t let on most of what they know even if it’ll get them a better grade.”
“Teams?” Severus asked.
“Mm. After the first few meetings, I realized that it would be stupid of me to feed into the mentality that a stronger witch or wizard will deal with your problems for you, like Dumbledore has. I set them up in the study groups so that they would have support from their peers as they learned, hoping that they would learn to depend on each other rather than me. They can still come to me for help of course, but really, in reality, I’m probably not going to live to see my twenties. This is more practical, and while they may depend on me if they need to, they are more independent and see themselves as more capable, and when it comes to magic, belief is more powerful than pretty much anything else. They believe they can learn advanced magic on their own, therefore they can, and all that.”
Severus stared at him for a long moment, setting aside the casual mention of his probable life expectancy. “That’s all rather manipulative of you, Potter.” He said instead.
Potter shrugged. “The hat maintains I would’ve done well in Slytherin. I’m late for Herbology; good afternoon, Professor.”
And he walked out, leaving Severus Snape with a whole lot of things to think about.