Sorted out

Disclaimer: All recognisable Harry Potter characters, settings, situations etc. are the property of J.K. Rowling. No money is being made from this work, and no copyright infringement is intended.

Many thanks and endless gratitude to Diabólica, Hechicera and moiramountain who have, all in their own way, helped me. I owe them.

Chapter five: Sorted out

Severus was testing his new wand when Minerva came to fetch him for the start-of-term banquet and the Sorting Ceremony. He had borrowed an empty classroom and had gone through a whole range of charms, spells and hexes at different levels. As far as non-verbal spells went, the wand was tuned in to him in a way he'd never thought possible. His charms and spells were improved, which was saying a lot. His hexes were somewhat harder to handle.

"I can see that you're enjoying yourself," Minerva said from behind him, her voice disapproving and her Scottish burr more pronounced as a result. "Your new wand seems to be working well enough. The clean up will take some work though. You frightened the animals. You do know that even transfigured animals have bowel movements, do you not?"

He turned and looked at her, and the room as a whole. Several pieces of furniture had been reduced to smouldering ash, causing smoke to gather in a cloud hovering below the ceiling. Steel daggers were buried in the walls, and he knew that two transfigured animals were hiding somewhere in the room. Chaos ruled, and he couldn't help smirking as he surveyed his handiwork.

"Yes, I am pleased. I had expected the wand to cause some problems, but it is only my hexes that seem to have suffered. They come across as somewhat heavy-handed." He indicated the blackboard, which was now a pile of shards lying on the floor; the stone wall where it once had hung cracked.

"Well, we just have to hope that you will not find it necessary to hex anything or anyone this year. Just a thought," Minerva said, frowning at the mayhem he had caused. She sat down on one of the remaining desks, drew her wand and placed it on her lap. She looked at the room and then added, "We need to talk."

Severus eyed Minerva. He knew that tone of voice and he didn't like it at all. It made him feel wary and with good reason.

"Severus, I withheld important information from you, and I am sorry. However, I was sure you would leave if you knew," Minerva said.

"What kind of information?" he said, deliberately lowering his voice to a warning growl.

"You want that apprenticeship. Staying at Hogwarts is the only way you'll have it," Minerva said, her beady, grey eyes unflinching and a threatening note creeping into her voice. She looked up at him, hesitated and then, like the true Gryffindor she was, plunged right into it.

"Many of the seventh-year pupils from last year weren't satisfied with their education," she said. "They never did get the chance to sit their NEWTs. Most of them returned this year."

"Pardon?" Severus heard himself choke. "I must have misheard."

"No, you heard me correctly," Minerva said, voice curt.

"Who came back?" he said.

"Everyone, except those who died in the battle and a few of those who ran rather than stay and fight."

He had known that he had been too enthusiastic when he had been invited into the shop. That Minerva would use his eagerness to get the apprenticeship as leverage was no surprise at all. Even as he conceded defeat – because he was defeated as long as Minerva could wield the apprenticeship over him – he was seething with anger. Severus wanted to roar at Minerva. Screech and rave like the time he had lost every scrap of control in the hospital wing when he had been informed that Black had fled. It was bad enough to be back at Hogwarts as a student. Adding to the misery, Potter and his faithful sidekicks were still here. It would be James Potter and Sirius Black all over again, turning his life into a living hell.

"I will not go to school with Potter," Severus said. He had aimed for haughty, but he just sounded petulant even to his own ears. He sounded like the teenager he looked like.

"You will forgive me for this. If you don't, so be it. This is for the best," said Minerva.

"You are starting to sound like Dumbledore. For the best ... for the common good," he said, mocking her, since it was all he could do.

Minerva smiled at him – a sad smile – and then she looked down on the wand in her lap.

"Perhaps, but there is something you seem to forget: I do want what is best for you. As did Albus, in his own way."

And then she rallied. When she spoke again she sounded like her own, brisk self. She rose and said, "We need to go downstairs to join the banquet and get you sorted. You will clean this later."

Severus snorted. He wasn't doing any cleaning. Not after this; he summoned a house-elf for the cleaning, and the creature happily started to take care of the mess he had made of the room. For a moment it looked as if Minerva would issue a counter-order, but in the end she just closed her eyes for a moment and shook her head.

A shadow of a smile hovered on Minerva's lips as she strode through the door he found himself opening for her. He was tempted to slam it shut in Minerva's face but decided against it. He didn't really have the energy. As unfortunate as the situation was, he needed to make the most of this.

"I am not at all happy with the way you manipulated Mr Ollivander at my expense," he said as they left the room.

"Of course you aren't, and I don't care, since I got my way," she said.

"I imagine you don't. However, you might remember that I am not in the habit of letting transgressions against my person go unpunished."

Minerva looked up at him, not at all bothered by his statement as they walked towards the stairs.

"It hasn't been that long. I do remember your tendency to nurture old injustices. I am sure you will forgive me eventually," she said, "and do stop scowling at me." She gave a haughty little sniff.

They descended the stairs, but before they reached the first-years Minerva made an abrupt stop, put her hand on his arm and gave him a pleading look.

"Please, Severus, don't sabotage yourself this time." And with that she walked Severus to the end of the line of first-years and left him there, signalling to Hagrid to open the doors of the Great Hall.

Entering the Great Hall everything got worse, as things always did. Everyone fell silent and turned to stare at him. The teachers, the students, even the ghosts were all at a standstill.

Severus hadn't been around the predatory lot that was the Death Eaters without learning how to handle himself, though. Without even a hint of hesitation, Severus straightened his back and strode through the room without deigning to look at any of the assembled students.

The tension seemed to break in the Great Hall, and the students started to whisper and mumble all around him. Severus scowled and listened to the running commentary as he passed through the room.

"... exactly like his dad."

"Snape had a kid?"

"... that nose ..."

"... just as scary ..."

"... any good at magic ..."

"... watching my back now."

"... Slytherin for sure."

And then someone said, "... staring! He probably hates it."

Severus looked in the direction of the familiar voice he had spent the last seven years loathing: it was Potter.

Another voice chimed in, Hermione Granger's he realised.

"Harry's right. Stop it," she said to someone. She sounded imperious and bossy, but then she always did.

Potter looked up, and when he discovered that he had been overheard, he blushed and pushed his glasses up the ridge of his nose. He nodded at Severus and made a short, fidgety wave. Severus assumed it was meant as a greeting of sorts.

The Great Hall fell quiet. The students had observed Potter's gesture, even though it hadn't lasted more than a few seconds. Memories of how it was to be a student at Hogwarts resurfaced. And in that moment he was reduced to that awkward student he once had been, wearing threadbare cast-offs, with few friends and no appeal for the girls. He wanted to spin on his heel and walk out of the Great Hall, never to return. The only thing that held him back was the apprenticeship. He would become a wandmaker. With that came prestige, wealth and above all: a certain amount of power.

What surprised him was that Potter's behaviour didn't seem hostile. It might be a smokescreen, but then again it might not, and he had already decided not to provoke interest. He was not going to get into a feud this time. Not unless he had to. He would avoid attention and get his marks. He would try to live a life that was somewhat normal, somewhat pleasant. A prestigious career that didn't involve teaching of any kind. A house not located at Spinner's End.

If provoked he would strike back so hard that he would be sure to be left alone for the rest of year, but he had nothing to lose by behaving courteously at this point, no matter how much he loathed the boy, so he nodded, acknowledging Harry and the rest of the surrounding Gryffindors.

***

Minerva had held her little speech and the Sorting had begun. The Hat had placed a pretty little girl named Harriet Purdy in Ravenclaw. Brock Rockwood, a boy built along the lines of a future beater, was placed in Gryffindor, and Aphrodite Santini – a truly beautiful girl, slanting glances at the boys under long dark eyelashes – was placed in Slytherin.

And then Minerva called Severus's name and the Great Hall went still.

He stepped forward to the low, four-legged stool standing beside Minerva. He looked at her, studiously raising his brows. She shrugged and smiled.

"I'll prefer to stand thank you, Headmistress," he said, since he had no intention of trying to fold his long limbs to sit on a stool intended for small children.

Minerva handed him the hat, and he put it on with every expectation that it would be like the first time. Back then, the hat had fallen down over his eyes, and it had called out his house. There were rumours of students to whom the hat had talked, pondering where to place them, but that hadn't been the case with him, and the students who were placed in Slytherin never owned up to it happening to them. When the low voice started to buzz in his head, he was surprised.

"Oh my. Severus Snape! This is a surprise. Considering your rather unexpected youth and of course you are wearing me again, I am sorting you, am I not?"

"I think that is the objective, yes," said Severus.

"You have changed. Things have happened."

A pang of trepidation hit Severus in the chest as he recalled something Dumbledore had once said. " ... sometimes I think we Sort too soon."

"He was wrong," the Hat said.

"Pardon?"

"Dumbledore was wrong. He was, sometimes. Anyone can be Sorted at any point in their lives. However, the result wouldn't necessarily be the same. The small ones usually haven't gone through very much. They are placed according to their raw natural talents and general demeanour, compared with the traits the founders favoured in their students, but people do change. Quite a few people need different things at different times."

"Are you implying that I am one those people? I do hope you are not, since I am planning to join Slytherin house," Severus said.

The Hat snickered, "We don't know that yet, do we? And once I have declared your house, it is yours. Magic, you might remember. You can't go anywhere else."

"I would prefer Slytherin," he said, starting to feel something close to desperation.

"I know you do. What I don't understand is why," said the Hat.

"Why?" Severus said, his mouth starting to go dry, "This is absurd! I used to be the Head of Slytherin house. Did Minerva put you up to this?"

"Neither the Headmistress nor anyone else can put me up to anything. I sort people into houses, as I always have. Slytherin house led you on a path of misery. Why would you want to go there, when you could go to any other house of your choosing? Few are as loyal and hard-working as you, few as courageous and few as intelligent. And since I have to concede the point, few are as cunning. You could go anywhere, be anything."

Severus gritted his teeth, "I am Slytherin," he said, nausea curling his stomach. He didn't have any interest in going to a new house, where the modus operandi of the students were different from what he was used to. He just couldn't be sorted into Gryffindor, he couldn't stand the thought of Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw ... no.

"It saddens me," said the Hat, "since you would be an asset, a matter of pride to any house. But as you wish."

Severus's eyes snapped open in relief when the Hat called out his house. He pulled the hat off his head and handed it to Minerva. She made a small gesture towards the Slytherin table and he turned towards it, and for a short moment the table looked like a photograph: a Muggle photograph to be precise, with everyone frozen in time. He almost growled at the thought of living with the Slytherin brats he had tried to foster into something that at least resembled human beings.

And then someone started applauding.

"Bravo, m'boy! Excellent, I just knew it. Had your father, you know," said Slughorn, his voice loud and jovial. Severus looked at Slughorn, just barely suppressing his urge to sneer. Dear lord, what a sycophant the man was. Slughorn was standing up, beaming at him, his whole demeanour radiating fatherly good will. Severus nodded at his Head of house and then averted his eyes, instead focusing on the Slytherins.

Slughorn had triggered a reaction among the students sitting at the Slytherin table. Blaise Zabini started to applaud with slow, deliberate claps. The rest of the seated Slytherins followed suit. Zabini had always been a malicious brat of a boy, and this applaud was not one of welcome.

Oddly enough, this reception in his own house, no matter how expected, left Severus feeling ill-humoured. Open hostility he could handle, fear he could use, and defiance he would simply crush. But this was something else. This was a reception of reticence and withdrawal. But he would handle this too. He had handled the Dark Lord, he had handled Bellatrix and he had handled the rest of the Death Eaters. He could handle a bunch of teenagers. He already had. For years.

Severus arrived at the Slytherin table, observing the seating arrangements. Zabini was seated in the middle of the table, back against the far wall so he could view the rest of the room in its entirety. Zabini had usurped Malfoy's place in the pecking order. Zabini was flanked by Nott on his right and Parkinson on his left. Malfoy was seated far down the table, where the first-years were seated, with his back to the rest of the room. He was obviously persona non grata, but at least he had shown some backbone, coming back to Hogwarts.

The row of students with their backs to the Great Hall started to shuffle aside to make room for Severus. They were opening a spot at the middle of the table, rather than at one of the ends, but that wasn't good enough.

Without hurrying, Severus strode past the short end of the table and kept walking between the wall and the seated students, until he reached Zabini. Zabini hadn't been all that observant, he noted. The boy had probably assumed that he would seat himself at the place that had been allotted to him, and now sat talking to Nott. Severus looked down at them, placing one hand over Zabini's shoulder putting enough pressure on his collar-bone for it to be painful, then he indicated the non-existent seat between Zabini and Parkinson with his other hand. Zabini flinched and gave Severus a surprised look.

"May I?" Severus said, keeping his voice bland. As he met Zabini's gaze, he applied some more pressure on his shoulder. The gesture would look friendly enough to anyone watching, if a bit intimate.

To his credit and to Severus's surprise, Zabini didn't show any sign of the pain Severus was inflicting on him; instead he gave Severus a quick, guarded glance, hesitated for a fraction of a second and then lowered his lashes.

"By all means," said Zabini, and made room between himself and Parkinson as he shrugged Severus's hand off his shoulder. Severus smiled. So Zabini wasn't at all willing to admit defeat just yet. But his behaviour gave Severus a good indication of how things stood. Zabini preferred Nott over Parkinson. Pakinson's dismayed look at being moved down the table confirmed it.

Severus sat down, and as the feast continued he proceeded to inch himself closer to Zabini until he was crowding him enough to make him move over – and Zabini did move without even a token protest – to Severus's great pleasure. He hadn't expected it to be so easy.

Severus smirked to himself, pleased with sitting at the centre seat of the table, Zabini pushed aside. He was sitting at Severus's right, of course. Whether he could keep that seat remained to be seen though, especially since Nott was already trying to make eye contact with Severus. A minor victory, but a meaningful one nevertheless.

He didn't doubt that Parkinson would remain at his side. She had – always quick on the uptake – moved as close to Severus as she could and was giving him one of her prettiest smiles – the one that she had once saved for Malfoy. It was not an altogether unpleasant experience.

He lifted the goblet and sipped the pumpkin juice. The centre seat of the table was his, and as far as he could see, there was no one to challenge him for it.