A/N: God knows this is a horridly cliché title… but the other ones were worse… if someone suggests a title I like I might do something… I don't know… no promises…
A/N the 2nd: I don't own the characters… I'm not that good enough to believably claim to have created them, and I'm not dumb enough to try.
Morphology,
By Quaxo
Chapter One: The Sorting
He heard the name "Devington, Eustace" called up for the sorting and let out a small sigh… it would be a long while yet before his name was called it seemed. His stomach was growling, having already digested the thermos of water and the sandwich his father had packed for the train ride. His new robes also chafed, his mother insisting he wear his best ones for his first presentation to Hogwarts. No one else, he noticed, was wearing them, but it was far too late now to do anything about it.
Hot, tired, itchy, impatient and hungry, he waited in line, pondering which house he would be sorted into.
"You'll be a Hufflepuff or Gryffindor... maybe a Ravenclaw, like my great great Aunt Carmilla," His mother had predicted the night before he left for Hogwarts.
"What about Slytherin?" He'd asked timidly, hopefully, curious why she would exclude her own house.
"You simply aren't Slytherin material; a mother and a Slytherin know these things." She'd said in her "no nonsense" tone that made his spine straighten instinctively.
"Why not," He'd managed in a fairly steady voice, an accomplishment in his opinion. Her rejection hurt and he couldn't explain why; but it hurt badly, and he couldn't stop it. She let out a sigh when she spotted the tears percolating in his eyes. He tried desperately to stop them by chewing on his lip, but to no avail.
"You're next," Hissed the girl behind him in line. He looked up to see the stern Scot, Professor McGonagall, looking at him, foot tapping impatiently. Flushing with embarrassment, he rushed towards her, and placed himself on the stool, just as the Professor dropped the hat on his head.
"I haven't seen one of your line since your mother quite some years back… how wonderfully exciting. So, Slytherin for you, just like the rest, yes?"
He was dumbfounded for a moment by the hat's suggestion, but managed to stumble out, "Mother said--" before the hat interrupted him.
"Ah, but one thing you'll learn at Hogwarts is that sometimes blood does run true, and you, Mr. Snape, are most definitely a SLYTHERIN."
He sat dumbfounded on the stool for a moment before Professor McGonagall poked him in the shoulder. The table full of Slytherins applauded him, but not as enthusiastically as the others, as they looked at him with confusion. Even Professor Slughorn, who he recognized from his mother's description (although he seemed a little chubbier than he'd thought), was giving him a funny look.
Professor Slughorn was a true Slytherin, his mother said with pride, and she was ever so hard to impress. He was one of the few people she spoke fondly of, even though it made Papa angry sometimes. "Sluggy" and she had been the closest of friends, a long time ago, back in school, and he'd even asked for her hand, but she'd turned him down.
He found a seat with some of the other first years, who made room for him grudgingly. By then the attention had focused back on the sorting, and he could process what exactly had happened in peace.
He'd been sorted into Slytherin. He could hardly believe it. The sudden swell of pride at being a Slytherin just like all the people his mother admired was slightly tempered by the cold fear that he wouldn't be worthy of honor.
"You can only do your best, Severus. It may or may not be good enough, but you won't know until you try…"
He was pulled from his morose thoughts as chatter exploded from his companions, and he realized, belatedly, that the sorting was over. Large platters appeared out of thin air onto the center of table. Severus managed to find a pair of tongs, and managed to wrestle a couple of glazed chicken drumsticks from the platter.
He was the first to finish his meal, mostly because he had no one to talk to. Everyone at the table already seemed to know each other, and he didn't know if he should force his way into a conversation or wait to be included (which didn't look to be happening any time soon, yet he didn't want to be rude)…
Fortunately, he was saved when a brunette girl, in another year, turned towards him as the friend beside her left the table.
"I'm Elodie Hawkins. So where are you from? I've never heard of the Snape family before…" She asked, revealing white teeth like a string of pearls.
"Near Manchester," he mumbled, humbled by her posh BBC accent.
"Well, obviously," Elodie said with a roll of her eyes. He flushed in frustration… his mother had been drilling him since he'd received his acceptance letter in speaking like she did, like the newscasters on the BBC. He thought he'd had it down finally…
"Perhaps that's why I've never heard of you, we don't leave London except for trips to the continent. Where do you holiday?"
He was saved from answering that question as her friend, a prefect he realized, returned and everyone began to stand. The prefect, a heavy-lidded girl with thick blonde hair named Bellatrix gathered them up and herded them towards their new common room.
They fell into line, and Severus found himself at the far back. This he didn't mind so much, as it gave him a better opportunity to learn the layout of his new home. Several of the portraits waved at them as they passed by, and Severus was so surprised that he waved back. It was all so terribly odd here…not at all like any of the novel's he'd read about the magical world… none had ever mentioned anything remotely similar.
"You'll have to be careful about the ghosts of course," Bellatrix said, stopping at a blank wall. "They don't appreciate it when they're walked through. The Bloody Baron is always glad to help a Slytherin though. Watch out for Peeves also, he's a nuisance of the highest order, rumor has it that he was a Gryffindor during his time here." Bellatrix smirked and his fellow first years laughed, but for the life of him Severus could not understand why. So Peeves might have been a Gryffindor, what did that matter?
He wished his mother had explained more…
"This is the entrance to our common room. It is accessible only by password. Unfortunately, it cannot discriminate between Slytherins and those who are… lesser. I must stress the importance of keeping the password a secret. That said, the current password is Morgana le Faye." Bellatrix stood aside as the solid wall swung open to reveal their common room.
It was dark, lit by eerie green lamps. There were several groupings of comfortable chairs, a fireplace, and multiple shelves crammed with books.
Regally posed beside the fireplace, leaning casually on the mantle was Professor Slughorn. He took a sip from his brandy snifter, before motioning them inside with a broad wave of his arm.
"Well, let me see the newest clutch Miss Black." Professor Slughorn chortled, placing his hands around his middle.
Bellatrix ushered them into the common room and toward Professor Slughorn, whose gaze seemed coldly calculating despite his jovial expression.
"Ah, Miss Elizabeth Forge I was in the same class as your father, I believe he just received a promotion at The Prophet did he not?" A girl with blonde pigtails tied with green and silver ribbons smiled and bobbed her head.
"And Mr. Rastaban Lestrange, I had the pleasure of teaching your brother; I shall be expecting great things out of you. Mr. Matthias Avery, why how is your mother…"
It seemed to go on and on, Professor Slughorn went from first year to first year, mention this or that, Severus was surprised he could keep it all straight. Did he do this every year? Did he spend the whole year studying up on the next year's first years… but how did he know?
"And Mr. Sirius Black, I am glad to see that the Black family tradition of Slytherins will continue onward--" It took a moment for Severus to realize that Professor Slughorn was addressing him, and not some other boy. Fortunately, Bellatrix coughed loudly, saving Severus the difficulty of having to correct Professor Slughorn.
"My cousin Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor this evening," Bellatrix said grimly, as if he'd been diagnosed with some terrible disease.
"Oh, oh dear. Well, every family must have it's black sheep it seems." Slughorn let out a nervous laugh. "Well then, I'm quite afraid I don't know who you are." Slughorn peered at him owlishly. Severus was uncomfortably aware that every person's gaze was focused upon him.
"Severus Snape, sir. You knew--" He started, only to be interrupted by Professor Slughorn.
"My dear lad, I positively can't understand a word you're saying. Try a little louder this time, and enunciate." Slughorn gave a beneficent smile, which only made Severus more flustered.
"Sever--"
"My dear boy has no one taught you Queen's English? You will not go far in life with that horridly common accent. Now try again." Professor Slughorn seemed to be loosing a bit of his patience, his hands fisting into his feet as he looked at him expectantly.
Well, he isn't the only one who's frustrated, Severus thought, but refrained from stating.
"My name is Severus Snape, sir. I believe you knew my mother, Eileen Prince." He said, a small flare of pride welling up at finally being allowed to finish his sentence.
"Oh, yes yes yes… Eileen," There was a strange quality to Professor Slughorn's voice, a reluctance that Severus could not pin down. "I'd heard rumors that a half-blood Prince was coming this year… well I'm sure if you study hard you should do quite well here."
There was coldness in Professor Slughorn's voice now… Severus couldn't say that it was dislike… he didn't know what it was.
Slughorn dismissed them to their dorms, encouraging them to get a good night's sleep, for the first day of school was always hectic and they wouldn't want to fall asleep, now would they?
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A/N the 3rd: To stem off any comments: Yes, I know that Bellatrix's hair is black in the book, which will be explained hopefully later.
Yes, Severus has a Mancunian accent, I'm just not ballsy enough to attempt at writing it without shaming all Mancunians. Forgive me.
On that note, re: Slughorn's analness etc: It used to be that speaking anything but "Queen's English (a.k.a. BBC English)" was mildly frowned upon. It showed a lack of education, and was a dead ringer for what class you belonged to. This has changed in the last few decades, but figuring that the wizarding world is about twenty-forty years behind muggles culturally, Queen's English would still be the preferred English of the wizarding world. Slughorn, being the kind of chap who is always upwardly mobile, and in his own way wishes to help Severus, is insistent on it's use. Slughorn has, unfortunately, all the sensitivity of a beater's bat. I might have an interlude with Snape and Slughorn during Slughorn's return to flesh this idea out a bit more. If anyone's interested…