Chapter 4: Discussions and Decanters

Severus Snape was a composed man, he prided himself on his ability to control his expression and emotion in front of others. However, when Harry Potter was sorted into Slytherin House, Severus Snape choked on his pumpkin juice.

He straightened his back, suddenly in rapt attention with the sorting hat that was being taken off Potter's head. He must have misheard. But no, here was the Headmaster giving him a small nod and smile, his eyes twinkling. Snape scowled, Potter a Slytherin? Impossible. The Potter family had always been sorted into Gryffindor, and with both his parents in the house, the brat was sure to be a brash lion.

There must've been some mistake - but no, there the boy was, suddenly sitting at his table. Potter waved at some girl who had been sorted into Ravenclaw and turned to watch the rest of the sorting. The boy looked much like he thought he would, messy hair, with a round bespectacled face like his fathers. He couldn't tell much else from such a distance. Severus snorted, drawing a confused look from some of the other professors. It wasn't enough that he would have to teach the mini Potter, he would have to advise him as well, as his head of house. Oh how the fates seemed to hate Severus.

Once the sorting had ended, he turned to Quirrell who was talking toward him about vampires in Romania, or some such nonsense. He really was quite dull, and that stutter was so annoying Snape had to muster up every bit of his control not to strangle the other man right then and there. After about a half hour of listening to the Defense Professor's insane babbling, he saw the man's eyes drift away from him, out over the students, a strange gleam in his eyes. Snape turned his head to follow the other man's gaze and was met with the - smiling? relieved? how strange - face of Harry Potter. The boy quickly looked away, good. He didn't want to look at that familiar face any longer than necessary.

Soon enough dinner was at an end and the students were being led away by the prefects to their common rooms, which meant it was time for him to go too. Severus Snape stormed out of the great hall, robes billowing menacingly behind him. This was not the first year that he was dreading making his speech to the first years in the Slytherins in the common room, but it was certainly the first year he was this emotional while doing so. The fact that the boy, Lily's boy, had been sorted into Slytherin, it was unimaginable. Now he would have to watch the boy grow, help him even, all the while being taunted by the haunting face of his old nemesis, James Potter. He debated grabbing some liquid courage before tending to the students, but thought better of it.

The students looked apprehensive coming into the common room for the most part. Draco Malfoy merely looked proud, eyeing his new surroundings up, assessing their worth. He knew Lucius had already made sure the boy knew how to behave while attending classes. Hopefully, Draco would be able to do so. He certainly didn't want to be the one to write to Lucius about any mischief the boy might get into.

The Potter boy was a picture of pure curiosity. His eyes seemed to glaze over most of the room, not very interested in anything in particular. Of course, he wouldn't be, the spoiled brat that Snape was sure he was. But there wasn't time to think about that right now.

Flint nudged the brats forward and gave the Professor a toothy grin. The boy was hoping to be made captain of the Quidditch team this year. Pathetic.

"Welcome to Slytherin," he began. He'd stick to his usual speech, he'd decided. There would be no need to add any additional warnings or comforts, he certainly didn't want to coddle the students anymore than they already no doubt had been; his eyes narrowed at Potter. "People will no doubt be quick to remind you of the dark wizards that have come from this house, and that they expect similar things from you. However, this is the house for the ambitious, the cunning. You are expected to behave well, win points for your house, and work hard to succeed. You will reflect your house and therefore me as well. I will not have any of you making me look bad." He saw some of the students shrink into themselves, frightened. Good. But there was another reason for making this speech as well.

His tone softened slightly, "If any of you have concerns throughout the year, or about your holidays my doors will be open to you all during my usual office hours. I believe in upholding the utmost discretion in regards to anything you may need help with, including Hogwarts life, and your home life." Almost every year he dealt with students that were scared to go home for the holidays, specifically those from the known darker families.

His tone stiffened again, "Remember this, your goal at Hogwarts isn't to have fun, it is to create a future for yourself and to succeed. Both on your own and with your classmates, by which of course I mean winning the house cup. Should you need assistance in your classes, Slytherin house has an established tutoring system for students to help each other. The tutoring board is on the wall over there," he made a sweeping motion toward the mantle above the fireplace, "I suggest you make use of it once classes begin. I will pass out your schedules at breakfast tomorrow morning. That will be all."

Snape quickly swept through the first years, students parting immediately to avoid being knocked over. The faster he could get out of here, the better. The first day back of the school year, and already he needed to unwind.

He trekked back to his chambers briskly, the biting chill of the dungeon air assaulting him at every turn as he went deeper into the castle. Reaching his study, Severus decided a large glass of brandy would make him feel better, hell why not just go for the decanter. The man faced his portrait of Salazar Slytherin and spoke, "Aconite."

The potions master slumped down into his armchair by the fire immediately after grabbing his drink. He could relax, alone here in his quarters. He took a sip of his brandy and hummed, feeling the liquid go down. An immediate warmth spread through him, maybe the year wouldn't be so bad after all. His godson was here, that was a plus, and he could make sure the Potter boy behaved in his own house. Not only that but with the other teachers holding a soft spot for Potter, he might be able to win the house cup this year again.

He imagined the look on Minerva's face when his house won the cup yet again, and with the knowledge that she had helped, by coddling Potter with extra points, as she no doubt would.

With each thought he drank more brandy, sips becoming gulps, and suddenly his decanter was lighter than it had been what seemed like moments ago. He wondered at the marvels of alcohol, as he often did, and silently questioned if that was the real reason he had become a potions master. Of course, he loved the subject dearly, combining new ingredients and testing the solutions was a sort of thrill he had only known from the Dark Arts before, and the latter subject was certainly out of the question these days. As his thoughts drifted dangerously close to his own hearth and home, he blinked, alcohol still ensnaring his sense, but gone from the forefront of his mind.

He looked at the clock. Two hours and a half decanter of brandy later, he slipped out of his armchair and into his bed. He might as well get some sleep, the next day was going to be a long one.