The Sorting Excitement

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here! C'mon, follow me – mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

What had to have been the most humongous man he'd ever seen was hollering, a lamp swinging from his trash-can-lid-sized hands high above the heads of the students. It was oddly reassuring to be dwarfed in proximity to the crude behemoth leading them on a dark and narrow descent into who knew where. He could almost forget his own unusual stature, or forget how he always seemed to stick out like a sore thumb above people his own age.

"Y'all will see Hogwarts in a sec," the large man called back over his shoulder, the lamp still held aloft before them silhouetting his wild and scraggly hair. In its light, the roughness and open honesty of his face shone through. Huge and ferocious looking he may seem, but it was immediately apparent to Severus that he was just a crude, harmless giant of a man.

As they rounded another bend, the darkness parted upon a great lake. Across the lake, upon a mountain, stood the most magical castle they'd ever seen. A chorus of ooooohs and appreciative exclamations sounded. Even though his first thought was on their simplemindedness, he had to admit that with the fall of darkness providing a backdrop and what looked like every window in the place alight, the castle was an impressive sight to behold.

"Everyone in a boat! No more'n four to a boat!" the booming bellow broke his contemplation of just how some of the towers were supported, and he realized that a collection of dinghies was resting in the water by the shore.

You have got to be joking…

--------------

"Can't these things go any faster? I'm starving! Get me to where the food is!"

Thwack!

"Hey, what was that for?"

The donor of the smelly sock now being returned ducked, grinning. "If I had a galleon every time you informed us of your stomach's ever whim…seriously–"

A dry chuckle came from the third boy in the small carriage. "Now, don't go inflating his head, James. I wasn't aware our dear scurvy mongrel's name was an adjective, and you mustn't go assigning parts of speech where it's not due: especially pricks with swollen heads and bloated digestive systems."

"Scurvy mongrel? Scurvy mongrel? I do beg your pardon!"

"Well, you've got to admit you certainly resemble one!"

The last boy, a tad pudgy, but in his youth with the opportunity to outgrow it still, added his two Knuts: "He's right, of course. Last spring on one of our outings, I swear a flea the size of my head tried was crawling around your hide!"

"What! No! That was just once… Remus has gotten loads more than me! That's not fair! We're all scurvy mongrels!"

They were all laughing now, and even the original moaner couldn't keep a smile from tweaking at the expression of righteous indignations he had masterfully crafted.

--------------------

The indignity he had suffered having to clamber into a boat had been somewhat tempered when a few disdainful sneers had secured his boat for himself, and himself alone. He was now smugly enthroned upon the middle seat of the dinghy, gliding across the lake with his fellow first years. They drew closer and closer to the vine-covered cliff face the castle seemed to be perched atop, with no correction of speed or heading, which Severus thought was overdue in relation to the cliff's proximity and very solid appearance.

But appearances are deceiving, it seems, he mused as the large man's almost capsized dinghy pulled ahead and its occupant, with one sweep of a humongous arm, drew back a curtain of the ivy, revealing a passageway tunneling into the mountain's base.

"Righ' through here!" he informed them, and turned to enter first. And then, carried easily to them, "Ouch! Merlin's beard! Yeh'll wanna watch out fer tha'!"

Like we'll really be in danger of cracking our skulls when we're five feet shorter than you… honestly!

All the same, he still eyed the overhang of the opening carefully as his boat passed under. He even kept an eye out for stalactites or a narrowing of the tunnel, which was a difficult task among the reflection and refraction of light from their leader's lamp. But the passageway opened up quickly enough into a larger pool with a pebbled beach.

The boats all drew up and beached themselves, and they extricated themselves (he with the most poise, of course) and clumped about halfway to the end of the chamber, looking a bit lost. As soon as the large man was done checking the boats, though – What for? It hardly matters if one has sprung a leak now, does it? We've already crossed! – he strode directly to the wall and, with another "Follow me!" and a hoist of the lamp, walked straight into it. Now that he was within it and the lamp illuminated it, it became apparent that among the outcropping there was a sort of channel in the rock. It really shouldn't have been all that surprising, considering that trick had just been pulled.

They emerged on the lawn directly before the castle and approached the large oak front entrance. In comparison to the wooden doors, their guide for the evening finally looked to be of normal build. An ironic sort of thought passed through his head as he wondered at its size: were all the faculty as large as this man, or did they just like to intimidate their tenants? Then the man knocked, and the door opened to reveal a creature (surely he couldn't be a person?) as small as the first was tall. Or maybe they're overcompensating for something?

-------------------

"I'm still hungry. Sitting here with an empty plate in front of me doesn't do anything to assuage that!" He was rubbing his stomach petulantly. This time the boys from the carriage, surrounding him, just rolled their eyes and it was a red-haired girl who answered him.

"Shh! Pay attention to the sorting!"

"Why? We already had ours. And it doesn't make me less hungry. Couldn't we at least have appetizers, or hors douvres, or a poopoo platter, or someth—oof!"

"I told you: shut up! Pay attention!"

"No, your elbow in my gut didn't help my appetite either, thanks, except maybe increase it to include revenge against a Miss Lynnette Leahy!"

"God, Sirius, the only way you'd pay the slightest attention would be if they were sorting fruit, wouldn't it?"

"That can be arranged…"

-------------------------

"I'm very sorry you had to witness that example of immaturity among some of our older student," the brusque and strict brogue broke over his ears, and for an instant sounded as sweet as any he'd ever heard; the return of any sound was welcome, signaling the restoration of his ears from rather large celery sticks. But then the voice was just annoying. He hadn't witnessed anything; he'd been victimized.

"I assure you, the perpetrators have been taken care of –"

"But that was so awesome!" broke in some disgusting blond boy.

From what I've heard from that barmy hat, he must be a Hufflepuff! Although that boy had only had his fingers turned into sausages, so he guessed that might have some room for interest. But really, celery for ears? He just supposed he was luckier than some, smirking at a short girl with hair that fell in perfect ringlets. It's brown color aside, Severus could almost still see the ziti it had been a couple minutes ago.

The witch attempted to give a tolerant smile to the blond boy who had spoken out. Or at least that's what Severus assumed she was trying to convey, because he couldn't fathom what sort of constructive end could be gained by bestowing an I-just-got-a-particularly-large-broom-shoved-up-my-backside grimace. "Be that as it may, that little show did break several of this institution's rules, which are to be abided by, or you and your house will suffer the consequences. And now, I supposed it's best that we finish the sorting here, away from itchy wand hands. So if we can just continue from where Professor Flitwick left of…" She consulted the list that the tiny professor had read names from earlier, before their experience in the arena of edible body parts.

"Quinn, Duc."

"RAVENCLAW!"

--------------------

-------------------

A prefect or two from each house were passing out flyers to everyone at their respective tables, and Severus wondered what they were for. He was soon answered as the Head Boy – a cold, pale boy my the name of Malfoy – slid into his seat near the end of the table and deposited his stack of flyers at the empty place next to him.

"Schedules over here. Come and get them yourselves. I don't cater to a bunch of lazy asses."

Personally, Severus thought that was a bit rich, coming from someone who was too lazy to hand out papers. Sighing, he stood up and made his way down and around the table. Slytherin he may be, and Slytherin they may have been sorted, but he was seeing more differences than similarities between him and his housemates. But then again, he was new to the school and house, and surely matters weren't set in stone after only a day. He felt moderately sure that it wouldn't take very long to become accustomed to the way the students from Slytherin house were. After all, he'd been sorted there, hadn't he?

Sitting back down, one of the girls also sorted into Slytherin the night before plopped down beside him with great gusto and flair.

"Oh, Severus, we must compare schedules," she declared with an impish flick of her long blond hair over her shoulder, and snatched his from a barely proffered hand. She had been the last sorted into Slytherin before the fruit prank had been pulled, and he the first afterwards. He didn't really read anything into it, but it seemed to mean something to her, as she had attached herself to him later that night in the Common Room, expressing her sympathy in wide-eyed insincerity. She'd even made a point of saying goodnight to him as they went to bed. Well, she was pretty, but he wasn't interested; besides, he didn't quite think that was what she was after, either. She was very self-seeking, but not quite self-sufficient, and he assumed she saw something in his companionship that would benefit her.

"Aww, too bad, we've only got a couple classes together." She pushed his schedule back to him. "We must hope for better luck next year."

"Yes, quite."

She hard the dry amusement in his voice, and gave him a calculating look. But then she caught the permissive flash of acknowledgement in his quick grin. With an impish smile of her own, she turned to her breakfast, chattering about the helpful upperclassmen she'd already talked to for directions to classes.

Ah, what the hell, he thought, readdressing his eggs. She's harmless. What damage can it do to entertain her until her interest wanes?

Then he was interrupted from his breakfast again. This time it was his head of house, a strict but affable man with sandy red hair and an identical brogue as the Transfiguration professor he and the last half of the alphabet had been prematurely introduced to the night before.

"Mr. Snape?"

"Yes, sir?"

"I'd like to have a word with you about your schedule, so if you'd follow me…"

Now what? "Yes, sir."

He noticed Narcissa very studiously appearing to not be paying any attention, but as soon as he got up she hastened to say, "See you at 11:30, Severus."

He nodded absently, noticing she'd circled the classes he had with her. Among them, the first was Monday, 11:30 – Charms. "Don't you worry yourself about Mr. Snape. This matter between us will only take a couple minutes."

She almost looked disappointed that there wasn't any further information to be gleaned.

"However, should it run a bit long, Mr. Snape's tardiness to his first class will be excused. But yours will not be, especially considering my sister values punctuality and enjoys frightening younger students with loss of house points. So Miss Pharisaic, do try to get to your first class on time." He grinned. "It is now quarter till, and I generally find it takes me twenty minutes to make it to the Transfiguration hall. At a leisurely stroll, though."

Severus could see the wheels turning in her little blond head. Clearly, she'd just been given some first class information with lots of potential. He could almost see her in class with an audience. With a flick of her hair, she'd say, "Oh, don't worry, Professor McGonagall isn't really all that bad. She just takes off points to scare you. Professor Skeandhu told me so, and he would know, wouldn't he, being her brother and all?" And poof, she'd be a step above her peers. Knowledge may not be power, but it was certainly a very handy tool in climbing the social ranks of society, and she would be seen as a source of it.

And finally, he saw the last cog click into place as she hurriedly grabbed her schedule and books and excused herself breathlessly. As he light form disappeared into the hall, his professor addressed him again, grinning. "Come along now, Mr. Snape."

As they made their way out of the Great Hall and into the sparsely populated Entrance Hall, Severus spoke up.

"Sir, it's only quarter past eight, not quarter till nine."

"Isn't that interesting," he deadpanned. In spite of himself, Severus grinned. "And about your schedule: let's just get right to the point, shall we?"

"Thank you, sir."

"Yes, well, I'm not sure you are aware, but in addition to being the Runes professor and the Head of Slytherin House, I am also Deputy Headmaster of the school under Professor Dumbledore."

He quirked a brow. What was the standard reply to someone who'd just bragged about his job? Somehow, "I'm a five-ten eleven-year-old, beat that," just didn't quite seem appropriate. "Congratulations?"

"It has come to my attention that you are a particularly skilled young man."

"Er…"

"I feel, and Professor Dumbledore agrees, that you would not be properly challenged in some classes at your age level. As I'm sure Miss Pharisaic pointed out, your schedules differ. This is because we have placed you in some classes with older students. You will be taking the classes as the rest of your year, merely at a higher level."

So, his tutoring had paid off, but so what? Sure, his head now felt twelve sizes bigger, but he didn't quite understand the fuss. He did appreciate the warning, though. If he had walked into a class full of older students, he would have turned around and walked right out again, assuming he'd taken a wrong turn or gone to the wrong class. "Alright then… I suppose thanks are in order?" If I'm not bored out of my mind, that's a good thing, right?

"I suppose. Now, you will be taking Herbology and Transfiguration with sixth year students, and Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts with seventh year students. Charms; History of Magic; all the rest of your classes are at regular level, and you'll have them with your year."

"Yes, sir."

"Now run along, it's quarter till."

He almost fell for it. "Isn't that interesting," he retorted, "—sir."

Professor Skeandhu just laughed. "You'll do just fine. Welcome to Hogwarts, Mr. Snape."