Author's Note - Before this is read, I'd just like to point out this is the most difficult thing I've ever had to write. There is not much information available as to what Snape would be like at this point in his life, so most of this is educated guess work. I hope you will forgive me if you think I have gotten him wrong.
Disclaimer - Severus Snape and all affiliated characters, places etc. are property of the ever-so-clever Joanne Rowling.
~ Chapter One ~
Another Year
"So who do you think our new house master will be then?"
Lenora looked up from her compact mirror and across the compartment at her friend. It was September 1st, the beginning of Lenora's sixth year at Hogwarts. She and her best friend Rose were several hours into the journey of the Hogwarts Express and, having exhausted a summer's worth of gossip, including who had gone missing, where the Death Eaters had last been spotted and such other unpleasant things, the conversation now turned to the more promising concept of the coming term.
Lenora gave a non-committal shrug, stowing her mirror away in the pocket of her robes.
"I don't know," she sighed. "To be honest, I was surprised it took Slughorn this long to retire. The man's great and all but he's hardly valiant: I thought he'd have been holed up, hiding from You-Know-Who long before now. I can't think of anyone who'd want his job at a time like this."
"I hope it's someone cute," Rose mused, as she pulled out an emery board and began dragging it absently across her nails. Lenora threw her a scathing look.
"Is that all you ever think about?" she said pointedly. "There's a war on, Rose. Besides, I think there are more important qualities in a head of house, don't you?"
"I guess. But we never have any cute teachers. It'd be nice to have something to look at it."
Lenora rolled her eyes.
"Honestly Rose, I know you're my friend but sometimes you are so shallow I could hit you."
Rose looked up from her filing, her eyes round and reproachful.
"I'm not shallow," she responded, defensively. "I just appreciate aesthetics, that's all. Besides, you can't talk – you've been pouting into your mirror for the last hour."
"Oh, please, that's hardly the same," snorted Lenora, waving her friend's comments aside with an impatient hand. "Not like you. You live for two things; beauty products and boys."
"Alright then, Miss Holier-Than-Thou, what qualities do you want in our new head of house?"
"I want someone who will do our house proud," Lenora answered quietly. "With…with all that's going on right now, Slytherin house needs a redeemer."
Rose continued to gaze thoughtfully at her friend but did not respond. Lenora was not surprised; it was rare for a conversation that did not involve shoes or Dorian Barton from the year above to catch Rose's interest. For a Slytherin, she did not have much house pride – only pride for herself. It was a given as far as Lenora was concerned: exceptional vanity was often an accompaniment of exceptional beauty.
The two girls spent the rest of the journey without further mention of the new head of house. Four games of exploding snap and a particularly brutal chess match, in which Lenora's knight beat Rose's king into submission, passed the time until the Hogwarts expressed pulled into the station. Lenora and Rose took a carriage with two Slytherin boys – Marius Barton, brother of Rose's much-desired Dorian, and Vincent Cauldwell.
"Good summer, Parkinson?" Vincent asked Lenora, lounging in the seat opposite her.
"Hardly," sneered Lenora. "I spent most of it helping my mum deal with my brat sister. All she ever does is cry! I tried to cast a Silencing Spell on her once or twice but mum was having none of it."
"Babies suck," Marius affirmed, with a sympathetic nod. "How about you, Ettard?"
"Six weeks in the south of France," Rose yawned. "Parent's wanted to get away from the whole You-Know-Who thing. Full of goody-goody Beauxbatons kids. Very dull."
"I can imagine," muttered Vincent. "Glad to be back, then?"
"As ever," Lenora and Rose chorused in unison.
"Bets on the new head of house?" suggested Marius. "I wouldn't put it past Dumbledore to install a non-Slytherin with all that's happening."
"He wouldn't dare!" Lenora growled, a little more ferociously than she'd intended to. "There'd be an outrage-"
"An outrage amongst Slytherins," Marius interjected. "Since when has Dumbledore cared for the feelings of the serpent house? Especially now…"
"It's not fair," sighed Lenora, turning away from Marius to stare out of the window. "This is going to be held against out house forever, isn't it?"
The three other Slytherins did not respond. Lenora knew that troubled times were lurking ahead for Slytherin House. She could only hope that their new housemaster or mistress would be strong enough to lead them through it.
"Did – has anybody you know…" Marius began, but trailed off without finishing his sentence. He didn't need to – everyone in the carriage knew what he was about to ask them.
"No," breathed Lenora. "We've been lucky."
"And me," Rose added. "Though I heard Rebecca Griffith's mum… well, I don't think she'll be coming back this year."
A heavy silence fell upon the occupants of the little carriage, which not one of them dared to disturb. It was not uncommon for such conversations to crop up – their school years had, after all, been overshadowed by the threat of the Dark Lord from their first year and though they were encouraged to live their school days with as much normalcy as possible, even Voldemort veterans like themselves could not partake in frivolities when such unsavoury subjects occurred.
The Entrance Hall was already bustling when the four Slytherins arrived, quite the contrast to their reticent ride up to the castle. They saw no-one they recognised, so they made their way straight into the Great Hall for the feast. Lenora smiled half-heartedly as she looked upon the decorated Hall once more. Being back at Hogwarts always made her feel safe again. Life outside of the castle's confines was tense. When she wasn't under house arrest "for her own safety", she would be scurrying chastely about her necessary chores with her head down, talking to no-one, always sticking to well-populated areas. A task as simple as buying a loaf of bread or fetching some more floo powder from the apothecary would make her parents sick with worry, fear they might never see her again: such was the time that they lived in. Hogwarts, whilst not removed from Voldemort's influence, was at least an opportunity to focus on something other than impending doom. It was a glimmer of hope in a dark, dark time.
The Sorting Hat was upon its usual stool on the platform, its rumpled features giving the impression it was looking down at the passing students, still judging them. Lenora instantly looked past it to the high table, curious to catch a glance at the one unfamiliar face she expected to see. Sure enough, sitting on Dumbledore's left, a seat once occupied by Horace Slughorn, was a young man; he was pale-faced and dejected, almost hiding behind his curtains of shoulder length, black hair. His face was one Lenora had seen before, though precisely where she did not know. Behind her, she heard Rose give a disappointed sigh and she fancied she knew why; he was not exactly the looker her friend had been hoping for.
"I know him," Marius whispered, as they took seats at the Slytherin table. "That's Severus Snape. He was accused of being a Death Eater not long back."
"How do you know that?" asked Lenora, casting another look up at the high table.
"My father works at the Ministry," Marius explained. "He got off because Dumbledore vouched for him."
"He's young," Lenora mused, barely listening to her classmate. "He looks too young to be a teacher."
"He was in sixth year when we were in our first," added Vincent. "I remember seeing him around the corridor. Hung around with a bunch of kids who nearly all turned out to be Death Eaters."
As he said it, memories of the same pale, hook-nosed young man flooded Lenora's mind. She had passed him in the corridors in her early years, seen him stalking the grounds with his boisterous gang of associates. He had not long been a student just like her. How then could he be both Potion's Master and Head of Slytherin house? Surely there was an age limit on such a senior teaching accolade?
"Take your seats, please!" came the shrill voice of Professor McGonagall from over the sea of heads. "The Sorting is about to begin!"
As she spoke, a steady trickle of first years meandered through the double doors and up to the platform.
So few of them, Lenora thought. We'll only have a couple or so this year.
Professor McGonagall unrolled her parchment list, which was becoming several feet shorter each year: apparently some parents did not share her view that Hogwarts was the safest place to be right now. Beside her, Lenora heard Marius and Vincent exchanging bets in a manner that reminded her of muggles at a horse race.
"The dark haired one – no, not that one, the taller one – he's a Slytherin for sure," Vincent was saying.
"I'll agree on that," whispered Marius. "But that blonde girl has Ravenclaw written all over her face."
"I'll bet you two galleons you're wrong."
"You're on."
"Allerton, Jason," Professor McGonagall called, casting a stern glare in the direction if the Slytherin table: apparently she had heard them.
"Do you remember our Sorting?" Rose reminisced dreamily, as Jason Allerton was sorted into Hufflepuff. "Dorian Barton shook my hand, said I was destined to be a Slytherin."
"Apparently, the news that my brother is most likely gay has not reached your ears," Marius goaded her, grinning in satisfaction as Rose whirled around, an indignant expression on her face.
"He is not!" she hissed. "You all say that because you're jealous."
"Oh yeah?" countered Marius with a raise if his eyebrows. "Then what was he doing in a broom cupboard with Salem Henderson last term?"
"That was a dare!" Rose protested, glowering at Marius as though this should have been obvious. Lenora laughed.
"Don't bother," she advised Marius, as Rose's gaze drifted down the table to where Dorian was deep in conversation with a very attentive Salem Henderson. "As long as she holds a candle to your brother, she will be blind to his less-than-heterosexual indiscretions."
She smiled at Marius, who grinned back, and then turned to watch the remainder of the Sorting. The dark haired boy – "Flint, Augustus!" – was sorted into their house, along with, to Marius's surprise, the blonde girl who went by the name of Adeline Sloane.
"Two galleons, if you please," smirked Vincent, holding out his hands gleefully. Marius grumbled mutinously as he dug the shining gold coins from the depths of his pockets and surrendered them to Vincent's outstretched palms.
"Six in total," Lenora muttered. "We've had better turnouts."
"It'll get better," Vincent assured her. "People are scared. They think if they pack their kids off to school, they might never see them again"
At that moment, their conversation was interrupted by Dumbledore getting to his feet. A hush fell across the Great Hall, as every ear in the room strained to hear what the headmaster would have to say.
"Welcome students, new and old, to another year at Hogwarts!" he declared to the silent room. "Though it is in less than happy times that we have come together, we here at Hogwarts are determined to strive onwards, even through the greatest of hardships."
Here he paused, and for a moment his usually radiant face looked as grey and tired as Lenora had ever seen it.
"There are," he continued, "several announcements which I must make. For now, however, let us simply celebrate the onset of another glorious year. Enjoy!"
With a clap of his hands, the multitude of golden dishes and platters filled themselves with sumptuous food. Lenora ignored the feast before her, even as her friends began to dig in. Instead her eyes travelled up to the high table, to Dumbledore and the dark haired man upon his left. Each of their faces bore similar expressions: complete exhaustion mingled with a deep sort of sadness, badly masked, in Dumbledore's case, with an attempt at a warming smile. She found herself anticipating the coming evening in the common room and the traditional speech delivered by the Head of House at the start of term. What would this pallid, pitiful looking young man have to say to them, she mused. Could he be the redemption their house greatly needed?