by tearsofphoenix
Standard Disclaimer applies - it's all JKR's.
As at every other time, the greatest thank-you to Whitehound who has found the time to help with the language, and the rhymes, even in these last frantic days…
sssssssssssss
I've always thought that of those mistakes which Albus regretted (and of which he half-spoke to Harry without defining them), the greatest had been to bring Tom Riddle back to the wizarding world; hoping, perhaps, that through the last heir of Salazar Slytherin the union of the houses could be achieved again.
I hope, of course, that through the actions of another Slytherin (and NOT through his sacrifice), that union will be achieved, as that re-unification will be the intent of JKR, too.
ssssssssssssss
The witch pulled the blanket up to cover her child's shoulders, wrapping him better than before, and stroked his long, black and curly hair with a light hand. Then she left the room, whispering softly "Nox".
Those last moments, sitting on the edge of his bed and chatting tenderly, she had remembered her first day at the school, her trepidation and fears… but now many things were different, so she had been sincere in her earlier, reassuring words.
The wizard that was waiting for her in their chambers was reading some parchments, but hearing the quick steps with which she had approached, he didn't hesitate to lift his eyes from the writings, giving her a questioning look.
"You will have the full attention of every first year, tomorrow… I had only this last chance to encourage him…"
"Well, I guessed that this wasn't a long good-night kiss, at his age", her husband answered.
She joined him on the couch, the cosy one where they spent many evenings and that was so conveniently set in the bedroom because both loved to stop there, waiting for each other or for the late hours.
"Go on with your reading" she said after she had settled herself against his shoulder, her height so much less than his but so right when she decided to rest this way. "I'll be quiet".
He raised an eyebrow and gazed at his wife, then complied. She herself was already lost in her reminiscences…
"Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin the ceremony that will sort each and every one of you into the right house I would like to say a few words: Generosity, Honesty, Respect, Sincerity. And in the same order: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, the names of your ancient houses.
"Don't take the alliteration literally, though: it doesn't mean what it seems, since the four qualities which I just mentioned must typify all the students, no matter to which house they'll belong.
"Young witches and wizards have always done their best to bring credit to their respective coat of arms, but when enmity and biases appeared, many new pupils approached this moment with fears and doubts and, later, fought their schoolmates like foes rather than opponents in a fair contest.
"Many, too many, have been the victims of such fights and for a while it seemed that the school itself must meet its end. This didn't happen, though, thanks to the joint efforts of all the houses and of their champions, when the last confrontation came.
"The school is re-opening after a hard time, having been made anew, and these are the things that every one of you needs to know: we will teach you the subtle sciences and the exact arts that will give you wisdom, fame, and glory; every triumph will earn your house points, every disrespectful act will lose house points.
"A cup will be won by each house which improves on its score of the previous year… In this way there will be no more house rivalries, and instead every victory will be that of your own progress, for each of you.
"Our old Sorting Hat will search out the qualities which everyone is best inclined to improve on, so be quiet and… let's begin!"
Hermione might remember forever the speech that Severus had offered to the new children at the beginning of his first year as Headmaster. It was impossible to forget, slightly echoing the speeches given by his predecessors, but encapsulating his own intent.
There were also echoes of the kind of advice which Minerva always gave before the Sorting, and something slightly reminiscent of the welcoming words said by Albus; although the beloved old Headmaster had always given his version only after the first exciting moments and, often, with obscure or funny words.
When she had listened for the first time to the beautiful, distinct, firm voice of Severus Snape talking to the little shy crowd assembled in front of the Great Table, she had smiled, moved, recognizing some of his chosen words to be those of his first speech in every first lesson in the Potions classroom, while other sentences reverberated with their many discussions and the worries they had shared before the new opening of the school:
"I don't remember having asked your opinion:" this had been the way in which he had tried to silence her the first time.
"No, you haven't, but if after so many readings of that letter you still don't know what to do, another point of view could be of service, couldn't it?"
"I can't stand this place if it becomes again as it used to be… I can only succeed in staying here now because it is so different…" had been his second attempt.
"And what, please, would be the current improvement which makes it tolerable now? Not the debris, surely…" She had dared to question him like this, with insistence, but he was so immersed in himself that at that moment it had seemed the only way.
"Who says that all should be as it was before?" she pressed on. "I for one remember a few things that weren't that good, in case you are interested to know them." Then she had confessed to him her childhood worries, and the hard moments she had lived when they were only a teacher and a student…
Later she had been drawn away from her memories, because the ceremony had begun, with a new song. Its first verses echoed, through celebrated names and rhymes, the history just told by the words of the new Headmaster. The glorious, magical old headgear, once owned by Godric Gryffindor and now the impartial treasure of everyone, had then ended his advice with words similar to, but also very different from, those heard by the witch in one of the most dangerous years of her schooldays:
I sort you into Housesbecause that's what I am for,
but this year I'll go further;
listen closely to my saw:
though condemned I am to split you,
no more worries that it's wrong;
no more fear as I divide you
for together we are strong.
While I must fulfill my duty
and must quarter every year,
still I marvel that these Sortings
will no more be lived with fear.
Hogwarts, Hogwarts now and forever:
as we know now from within,
feel the Houses all together:
let the Sorting now begin.
ssssssssssssss
Opening her eyes to the present she felt again his wondering gaze on her, but keeping her promise she silently awaited his words. "There will be no more children like us" he stated softly, and without the slightest scintilla of regret for the troubled times of their respective schooldays.
"Oh, but there will be other children, and there will be as ever jokes, quarrels, disputes for the sake of team spirit, adventures… this has always been the subject-matter of growth, you know". He knew, but he too was now lost in his memories, those of his youth and those of his teaching days, so didn't respond to her statement about the incontrovertible other side of their task.
As this year was that of the Sorting of their son, it was automatic to remember their own, thinking of all that had happened later, the war, the victory, the day when the new life of the school had begun, the last few hours so full of expectations and preparations.
He remembered his thoughts, those from that other fateful evening, when he had composed his first speech:
No more children should think that to be sorted in Hufflepuff could mark them as the weakest, the softies, the clumsy ones… since the first hero, the first sacrifice dead at the beginning of the last war, had been one of them.
No more children sorted in Gryffindor should misunderstand the real meaning of bravery, thinking that it should be accompanied by the arrogance and the recklessness of the first impulse… since many of them paid with their lives, or by witnessing the suffering of their friends, for this misunderstanding.
No more children sorted in Ravenclaw should be so much engrossed in their minds and studies as to forget the real world; and, above all, no more children would be doomed from the beginning, and considered with bias by the other ones, just because Slytherin was their house.
Their new world wasn't perfect, neither in the hidden castle nor elsewhere, now that many years had passed since that moment; but for a long period the real unity of the various souls of enchantment had allowed peace and hope…
It was still so strong to him - the memory of the hurt with which he had reacted, after the first moments of his amazing discoveries in the magic world, to the unbearable, impossible challenges of his youth. Those memories, united with the awareness of the aftermath of his reactions, had formed the substance of his inspiration.
How many children have been the object of cruel words and pranks, here where they had hoped to see something different from the Muggle world? How many children have seen their hopes vanishing when their extended hand has been ignored? How many haven't been able to recognize their faults and to begin again on the path of true friendship?
Looking at his wife he remembered her words, too, those of many years ago, when she had confessed to him that perhaps only the happy end of a dangerous adventure had spared her the same treatment that he had endured during all his school years… the same… "the same" wasn't exactly the right choice of words in this case, but for once he had renounced the wish to retort to her with a cutting comment… the experience of a shared feeling had been so new and beautiful to him.
sssssssssssss
Severus Snape stood up, abruptly, banishing the last memories for another time… but his wife wasn't startled. Through the insight acquired through long experience about everything which concerned him, she rather enjoyed seeing her husband leaving the room, so that, giving him a brief nod, she finally went to their bed.
Watching his sleeping child a few moments later, the wizard thanked whatever deity had made it possible for him to see this moment. His son was brave, and clever, kind and proud, and it really didn't matter to Severus into which house he would be Sorted…
Hermione was half asleep, when he came back. "He'll be fine, wherever he will go" he whispered after a soft kiss.
"I know… he will also meet true friends, wherever he goes" had been the answer, spoken almost imperceptibly against his chest.
"And he will win house points…" insisting with caressing promises.
"And he will loose them…" settling better in his arms…
"Good night Hermione."
"Sweet dreams, Severus."
A/N
I want to believe that we will all still be able to enjoy the dreams of fandom after the fateful July 21st… but this idea of the unity, and of the final understanding among ALL the four houses, is to me how one of the more important meanings of the saga should go, so it seemed better to tell it before the very end.
The final lines of the song of the Sorting Hat are borrowed, and changed a bit, (for my purposes, but the original ones, too, seem almost a clue) from those seen in chapter 11 of OotP.
