This is something I wrote really quickly. Very short - just 395 words - and it's not that great, I just needed it out of my system. Enjoy!
This stupid ritual at the start of every year nearly sent Severus cookoo. Having to watch the procession of first years normally made him excuse himself or nearly stab his neck with his shiny fork. However, this year, he had someone to look out for.
Harry Potter. He just wanted to know. What was he like? Was he like his mother – the most beautiful women he ever had the pleasure to be friends with and fall in love with? Or was he like his father, the scumbag? He finally got to find out. Today. He's waited eleven years to meet this boy.
The first few walked in the door, trailing nervously behind Minerva. He remembered being in the exact same position, trying to stay calm for Lily but inwardly worrying that he wasn't getting into the same house as her. He wondered how many other people had felt the same.
Finally, he spotted Harry in amongst the small children. He was next to a ginger – another Weasley, no doubt – and from what he could see, he looked exactly like his father. Typical.
After the first sighting, he tried to blank out the boy. He wanted to see which house he was put in. Desperate to see, actually. It could determine who the boy really was.
The first few sortings weren't interesting. Just the normal. However, he did spot one girl whose demeanour reminded him of Lily's – he soon found her name to be Hermione. However, it was Harry's turn now and he had to concentrate on listening. He knew that if you listened hard enough, you could hear what the Sorting Hat was saying.
Harry sat down on the chair hesitantly, and McGonagall all but slammed the hat on his head. Their was a tense second before he could hear the boy saying, "Not Slytherin, not Slytherin...". Snape frowned in annoyance. Of course he would be as ignorant and petty as his father. Severus had wished but, alas, it was in vain. How stupid of him.
The Sorting Hat continued to say something else but Severus wanted to hear no more. This child – stupid, infantile child - wasn't nearly as compassionate and loving as his Lily.
But when he stared into those almond-shaped green eyes as the boy sat down, he knew that the boy was different, if anything.