Severus Snape had dreaded this day for eleven years. He had always known that Harry Potter would one day come to Hogwarts - the boy's name had been down since the day he was born, after all - and he had always known he would have to deal with the daily reminder of James, in his classes, in the Great Hall at meals, and even in the hallways. He had nursed the dread, worked it in his mind like clay, molded it into the perfect shape of his hate and desire for vengeance. He had expected the child to be a copy of his father. Even after James and Lily died, he knew that blood would out. The boy wouldn't be able to help it, he was sure. He would be arrogant and vain, attention seeking and nasty as you please, with a particular fondness for rules breaking.
But even so, he had not expected the son of James and Lily to be a
When silence descended on the Great Hall after the announcement, Severus had, for a moment, been sure he'd heard wrong. It must be a mistake. There was no way the precious Boy Who Lived would be anything but a Gryffindor like his widely adored and completely obnoxious father. But the boy stood there, silent as well, looking around him as if all his dreams had been crushed - as well they might! No applause; the horror! - before his expression went carefully blank the barest moment later, and his chin went up just a fraction.
Severus could have applauded the little blighter for that - Never let them beat you down, boy! - but instead, when the boy finally caught his eye, he merely indicated the Slytherin table and Harry went to sit with the rest of his House. After all, it was just like Potter's son to think everyone should applaud him simply for putting on a hat. Severus' lip curled in disgust. Just like the Potter brat to look down on his new House, too.
He watched the boy sit next to Nott, and watched Zabini join them a moment later. Potter kept his head down, though Severus noted the quick glances he darted about, probably trying to figure a way to get more attention for himself. Arrogant brat.
Albus made some nonsensical speech, the same as every year, though Severus could swear he heard a tiny note of melancholy in the Headmaster's voice. Ah, well, of course the Old Coot thought the Potter brat would end up in his own old House. Of course he would be disappointed. Weren't they all?
At last the feast proper began, and as he did every year while he ate, Severus watched the goings on at the students' tables, and Slytherin's in particular. It often gave him insight into what peer groups would be of a given year, and he could always use that information to his advantage. At the Slytherin table, he was interested to see that, although the Bloody Baron was hovering rather close to Malfoy, putting the boy off his feed, the discomfiting ghost had his gaze fixed firmly on the Potter brat. And he looked thoughtful.
Severus sighed. That didn't bode well.
He watched the Brat Who Lived stare at the massive platters of food, and then turn his blank-eyed stare on the other students. He noticed the Brat didn't take any food until he was sure everyone else had piled their plates high. And then, he snatched at a chicken leg and turned his body slightly away as if he were feral, and protecting his food from other predators. Naturally, Slytherin's little snakes were predators, but not so uncouth as to steal food from each other, for Merlin's sake! They had manners, not like the Brat Who Lived to Be Annoying!
Dinner proceeded apace, and Severus soon turned out the mumblings of the turban-headed DADA teacher beside him, as well as Minerva's occasional huffs of annoyance as she discussed the Sorting – clearly she'd thought the Brat would be in her House, as Albus had. For a brief moment, he considered telling her she was welcome to him! But he had never removed a student from his House before, and would not set such a standard now. Not with Potter, of all people.
When dinner was through, he watched the Slytherin prefects march his House out of the Great Hall. They strode before their peers, from First Years to Seventh, silently and in perfect formation. He nodded politely as he always did when the other Heads of House acknowledged, as their students tore from the Hall with the scraping of benches and a stampede of feet and shouting, that their Houses would never look so organized or precise, never mind on the first night. It was one of many things he enjoyed lording over them.
After waiting another ten minutes, long enough for the prefects to have brought the newest Snakes to order in the common room, Severus rose from the head table and made his way to the Dungeons. The first night was always the longest for new Slytherins, as Severus preferred to lay down the rules immediately, unlike some Houses – Gryffindor, anyone? – who rarely had any rules given to them at all, or others who had them portioned in dribs and drabs over the course of seven years. Disgraceful. If a child did not know the rules, he could not be expected to realize when he was stepping out of line, and could not be brought back into accordance with these rules through the judicious use of punishment.
Severus stood in front of the Common Room entrance and took a deep breath, set his most ferocious scowl upon his face, and shoved the portrait open. Angling his arms, just so, he achieved his famed bat-like movement, robes billowing gracefully behind him. It had taken more time than he cared to admit to perfect that move.