CHAPTER THE FOURTH

Wednesday came. Severus' marvelous anticipation was tainted by dread, for what if he saw all that he knew he would? He was chessmaster and pawn, victim and victor. He had the world at his fingertips, if only he knew how to manipulate it.

His mother rapped on the bathroom door, breaking Severus out of his musings and away from the mirror. He had taken to doing that recently, staring at his reflection whenever he was unsettled, the better to reassure himself that he was still young and still unbroken. "Love, we're going to be late."

"Coming, Mum," Severus called.

He was too nervous to eat. His mother hugged him briefly and slipped some coins into his pocket. "So you can have snacks on the train," she whispered.

Severus didn't protest. He couldn't.

The Evanses didn't have a Floo set up, so Severus and Eileen walked in the murky pre-dawn darkness over to their house, where their car was already idling in the driveway. Lily was clutching her kitten to her front, jiggling from foot to foot in excitement on the steps. Mr. Evans was finishing loading her trunk into the boot, but Mrs. Evans was nowhere to be seen.

Lily caught sight of them and bounced over to Severus, eyes shining. "I couldn't sleep last night, I was so happy," she babbled. "This is the sort of thing that happens in fairy tales, Sev, we're in a fairy tale."

Severus wondered if the puffy-haired boy would still be her prince. But he said nothing and grinned at her instead. Things would fall as they would. He had time to change them if it became necessary. Then he frowned. "Where's Petunia? Isn't she coming?"

Lily's chatter ceased abruptly. "She's not," she said softly. "She had a screaming match with Mum about it last night." Her eyes got sad. "Sev, I think you were right about the cat."

"I'm sorry," Severus said, and he was. This, perhaps, was one of the little triggers that Petunia had allowed to take over her life. He hoped she could come to her senses this time, instead of marrying a walking tub of lard and birthing a small whale like she had before. A rotten business, that had been.

Lily shook her head. "I wish I hadn't talked about Hogwarts so much," she murmured. "I think it's my fault."

Severus shrugged. "It's not all your fault. Petunia let herself be jealous."

"Still. That doesn't excuse what I did."

"If you know that, you won't do it again. Fix it if you can, but if you can't, don't allow yourself to dwell on it. Your life should not be a place for regrets."

Lily tilted her head to the side and studied him. "You've gotten so wise, lately. How?"

Severus saw her eyes on another boy's face. "I guess I grew up," he said, too tired to be bitter. "Come on, your dad's waiting."

They made it to the station in one piece, though Eileen had never become used to Muggle automobiles. She and Severus sat in the back, with Lily, sliding around on the slick leather seats.

The station was bustling with movement, Muggle businessmen in pin-striped suits, groups of schoolchildren chattering excitedly as their chaperones looked on. But Eileen paid them no mind, much to the Evanses' obvious confusion. "Come along, Platform 9 ¾ is this way," she called over her shoulder, striding ahead in sensible shoes.

Lily and Severus followed, too jittery to converse, though for one shining moment Lily did grasp Severus' fingers for reassurance. It was a nice feeling, Severus mused, being relied on for support like that. He wondered if that had been what his dream-self had been seeking, and thought sorrowfully that if it was, he had been going about it in all the wrong ways.

Then they were at the vast expanse of brick wall between Platforms 9 and 10, and Severus didn't have time to muse over motivation, past, present, or future. "It's an illusion," Eileen explained to the Evanses. "You can walk right through it, but most people prefer to run."

Severus gave Lily a quizzical eyebrow, silently asking. She raised hers right back at him, and they took off at a dead sprint, pushing their luggage in front of them.

Passing through the wall was like smelling the color yellow. For a moment, it made sense, but once Severus was through it he realized exactly how disoriented he had really been. Everyone took illusions differently, though. Eileen had told him she felt as though she was breaking into little pieces and reassembling on the other side, and when he asked Lily, she mumbled something about towers falling flat on their faces, and by then their parents were through, too, so he couldn't ask for clarification.

"Wow," Mr. Evans said, gaping at the mass of wizarding humanity before him.

"Wow," Mrs. Evans agreed, tugging at his sleeve. "Dear, we need to get out of the way before someone else comes through."

"What? Oh, right," Mr. Evans agreed dazedly, eyes flitting from person to person. "Does that boy have a peacock? Why does he have a peacock?"

"Technically, students are only allowed to bring a toad, cat, or owl to Hogwarts," Eileen said, "but the teachers don't say anything about the more exotic pets as long as they stay in the dormitories and don't cause any harm to the students. There was a boy in my year with a red fox."

"Peacocks," Mr. Evans said again, as though all the entropy in the universe stemmed from that one unexplainable fact. "Peacocks."

"Oh, dear," Eileen fretted. "Going through the barrier might have done that to him, it happens with Muggles sometimes. Why don't we find him a place to sit down and some water?"

"Mum," Lily interjected, "Sev and I are going to put our bags in the train."

Eileen had put a weightlessness charm on Severus' trunk, but Lily had no such thing, so the first three minutes of their adventure was spent trying to hunt down a prefect. "Ugh," Lily grumbled, jumping over someone's owl cage. The owl inside hissed with displeasure. "There ought to be a sign that says 'Prefects Here,' or something."

A flash of platinum blond caught Severus' attention from the corner of his eye, and his heart stuttered in his chest for a beat. "How desperate are we for help?" he asked, only half-joking. "There's one."

Lily craned her head around until she caught sight of the badge flashing on the boy's chest. "Oh, you're right. He does rather look like he's eaten something unpleasant." Her mouth curved up. "But he's a prefect, so he has to be nice to us." With that, she skipped towards Lucius Malfoy, as pale, pretty, and pointy as Severus had ever known him.

When Lucius caught sight of her, his mouth curled into a sneer for the barest of moments before he remembered himself and his position. "May I help you?"

"You may," Lily said breezily. "Could you put my trunk on the train for me, please? It's rather heavy."

"Why didn't you just put a weightlessness charm on it?"

She winked at him. "Can't do magic till we're at Hogwarts, right? I don't want to get in trouble before the term's even started."

Now Lucius really did look like he'd been sucking on a lemon. "Might I inquire as to what your surname might be?"

"Evans. I'm Lily Evans. Now could you please put my trunk on the train?"

Rich and powerful Lucius may have grown up to be, but he was still a spindly-legged fifteen-year-old in this timeline, and watching him attempt to bodily haul Lily's trunk onto the Hogwarts Express was a test to Severus' poker face. Lily was not so lucky, but tried to conceal her laughter as hacking coughs into her elbow. From the dirty looks Lucius sent her way, Severus was certain that she was fooling nobody.

"Excuse me, I need to get water," she gasped, eyes brimming and body quaking with the force of her suppressed giggles. She darted away, but as soon as she was out of sight Severus was sure that he heard her cackle in mirth above the din. He only hoped that Lucius hadn't heard it as well.

With Lily's trunk ensconced in a compartment, Severus effortlessly lifted his own up, but in doing so, he caught Lucius' attention.

"At least you had the decency to put a charm on your trunk," Lucius huffed, disheveled and sweaty from wrestling Lily's luggage aboard.

"I'm sure she would have if she could have," Severus replied mildly.

"Muggleborns," Lucius sneered, his disdain transforming the politically correct term into an insult. "You have to wonder why they're allowed to attend Hogwarts at all. Think of how much they must slow down the curriculum."

"Really," Severus said dispassionately. "I was under the impression that Hogwarts is a school and that magical children are not allowed to practice magic in any capacity until they are seventeen or attending a registered magical facility for the intent purpose of learning. From that, I can't see how Muggleborns could be behind in any way, except perhaps with the exception of theory. And theory is useless without application." He coolly met Lucius' eyes. "And how strange that you should dismiss Muggleborns to my face when I could very well be one myself."

"You have a charm on your trunk," Lucius said, not breaking eye contact. "You're at least a half-blood. What is your family name?"

"I'm sure you'll find out soon enough," Severus said with a humorless twist of his lips. "But I know who you are. Lucius Malfoy, son of Abraxas Malfoy, heir to one of the largest merchandising empires in the magical world."

Lucius arched a perfect eyebrow. "What general information. I can hardly see how it could be of any use to you."

"Oh, it tells me everything that I need to know." Their verbal sparring match would have continued but for Lily's sudden reappearance.

"Perhaps I'll see you in Slytherin?" Lucius asked, ignoring her.

"Perhaps," Severus replied neutrally. When he turned his back to finish loading his trunk, the skin between his shoulder blades prickled uncomfortably with the weight of Lucius' stare.

"You made a friend!" Lily squealed into his ear. "And you were so worried."

"I wouldn't call him a friend, Lily." More like a budding sociopath. "And I don't think you ought to have baited him like that. He seems the type to hold a grudge."

Lily clambered up onto the train. "He's a prefect, Sev. He can't do anything. Come on, let's go find our compartment."

Oh, Lily, Severus thought to himself. You have no idea what he could do to you if he were motivated enough. I hope it never comes to that.

But all he said out loud was, "All right." He was still in Lily's orbit, he realized, still revolving around her like he was caught in her gravitational pull. That had been his undoing, once before. He had to free himself from her regard. Not now, perhaps. But soon.

They went to their compartment, bounced giddily on the plush velvet seats, pressed their faces to the window-glass to see the people still passing by. After the ten-minute warning to departure was called, Lily ripped the hem of her jumper getting down off the train. Severus said nothing, listening to her noises of dismay. The future was now, he was sure of it, and no amount of Eileen's hopeful wishing could prevent that. The snowball had been set to rolling, but maybe this time he could prevent an avalanche.

Saying goodbye was—uncomfortable, to say the least. Eileen had already said a thorough farewell to him in the privacy of their own home, where there were not strangers to see and judge. But the Evanses were prone to hugs, and Mrs. Evans captured him three separate times while Eileen consoled Lily about her jumper. "The house elves will fix it, dear." She shot him a look of undiluted terror, but he pretended not to be concerned.

Eileen gave him one last rib-cracking squeeze, Mr. Evans clapped his shoulder, and Mrs. Evans sniffled noisily into a handkerchief. "Oh, they grow up so fast."

But finally, finally they were on the train, pulling away from the station, and they didn't have to keep waving until their arms were about to fall off. Severus settled down against the bench and stared out the window. Lisianthus crawled over to him and draped himself over his thigh. "Lily, can you remove your cat? I'm allergic." His eyes were already starting to water.

Lily reclaimed Lisianthus and spent the next two hours poring over every single one of her textbooks. Severus, on the other hand, decided to unwind with a nice easy book about the physics of space. He also kept an eye on the door for any sign of the puffy-haired boy who had made his life so miserable the first time around.

Maybe that wasn't fair, Severus acknowledged. He had done plenty of making the puffy-haired boy's life miserable, too. It was just that the puffy-haired boy had had friends who were willing to unfairly gang up on Severus, and they had enjoyed it far too much.

Severus' spine burned with remembered humiliation. They had done so many things to him—he should hit them hard and fast, now, when they wouldn't be expecting it, take revenge, make them bleed, make them cry, make them beg for mercy, make them wish that they had never dared to mock him and where he had come from, the circumstances over which he had no control—

Lily made an absent humming noise as she reread the chapter on Transfiguring different types of metal, and the interruption was enough to snap Severus back into reality. Those boys hadn't done anything to him yet—he hadn't even met them.

Severus glanced down at his hands and was unsurprised to see them shaking. He had just imagined hurting people. He had enjoyed imagining it. In that moment, Severus was glad he hadn't eaten anything yet, though the trolley had come by twice, because he would have just thrown it all back up.

Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes. He couldn't go down that road again. It would consume him, just like it had his dream-self. He had been no more than a husk of a man, driven by hate and something too obsessive to be called love. In that moment, Severus Snape sincerely considered taking up religion.

Then the trolley lady came by again and Lily was roused from her paranoia-fueled knowledge-cramming session by the promise of sweets. Even though Severus still felt ill, he bought a bag of chocolate frogs with some of the money his mother had given him because she had wanted him to have good memories of Hogwarts. The rest, he tucked away as an emergency fund.

Lily had no such reservations and bought one of everything. "You're going to be sick," Severus said disapprovingly, eying the spread of sugary things.

"I couldn't help it," Lily protested. "I've never had magical sweets before. And you're going to help me eat these, aren't you?"

It was his first time trying magical sweets, too, so against his better judgement, he did, though he greatly regretted having the Acid Pop. He was holding his hand clamped over his mouth, eyes streaming, rocking back and forth in pain, Lily looking on in concern, when the door to their compartment slid open and the puffy-haired boy and his band-shirt-wearing accomplice arrived in all their eleven-year-old glory.

"Um, is he all right?" the puffy-haired boy asked.

"He ate one of these," Lily explained, holding up the Acid Pop wrapper.

The boy in the band shirt laughed. "Oh, Acid Pops! I remember my first time eating one. I thought my tongue was going to fall off."

"How do you fix it?" Lily demanded.

"Have any chocolate?" the puffy-haired boy asked. "That usually helps."

Lily thrust a chocolate frog at Severus, who, desperate for relief, shoved it in his mouth whole. Immediately, the burn subsided to a manageable level and he was able to straighten up in his seat.

The puffy-haired boy grinned. "There you go. If it hurt you that badly, don't eat it again. Different people have different reactions to different magical candies, my mum says."

"Well, thanks," Severus managed. His tongue felt raw and scalded. "I wish I'd known that before, though."

The puffy-haired boy shrugged. "They really should put warnings on the wrappers for Muggleborn."

Severus bristled, long-cultivated instincts of hostility rising to the surface. "I'm a half-blood."

The puffy-haired boy put his hands up in the universal gesture of hey, calm down. "I didn't mean to insult you," he said. "It's just that half-bloods normally know about the candy and things."

They couldn't afford candy, Severus thought, ashamed, and then was angry with himself for being ashamed. "So, Mr. Candy Expert," he drawled, drawing upon every ounce of sarcasm held in his being (and it was a lot of sarcasm), "do you have anything else to tell us?"

The puffy-haired boy opened his mouth to respond, but Lily beat him to the chase. "Severus, don't be rude. Sorry about him," she said to the two, smiling prettily. The puffy-haired boy went red and his band-shirted compatriot elbowed him, grinning. "He's been techy all day."

Severus bristled, then realized he was just proving her point. "I'm going to the washroom," he said abruptly, standing with a jerk. They didn't seem terribly sorry to see him go.

In the loo, he stood in front of the glided mirror, fancier than anything he'd ever seen in a washroom before. He stared at his reflection, still young, still untainted, still with a chance to do things right. He leaned his forehead against the cool glass and shut his eyes. "I am Severus Snape," he whispered. "I'm eleven years old. My best friend is Lily Evans. I'm going to keep her alive. I am going to be happy in this life, and if that means making nice with the boys who helped ruin it the first time around, then I will. My life will not be a place for regrets."

The words rang true, so Severus took a moment to compose himself, splashing cold water on his face. When he got back to his compartment and slid the door open, a wave of laughter greeted him.

"—and then he looks up, so confused, and he says, "But I'm allergic to spinach." The band-shirt boy was in his element here, inciting hilarity in the normally-composed Lily. This wasn't the way that things had been last time. Last time, his dream-self had refused Lily's offer of candy, too proud to take what he couldn't afford himself, and so there had been no helpful remedy provided for Acid Pops. Severus had been wary, disliking them on principle because they were so obviously wealthy—or at least, wealthier than him. They had returned that sentiment, and Lily had stood beside Severus because that was what she did for her friends. All of Severus' problems had stemmed from himself. All because of my pride, my damnable pride.

They noticed him, then, standing in the doorway, and went quiet. Time to bite the bullet. "I apologize for my rudeness," Severus said stiffly. "Thank you." He went back to his seat.

The puffy-haired boy grinned. "No problem, mate. So," he announced, changing the subject, "what Houses do you want to be Sorted into? We," he gestured to himself and his companion, "want to go to Gryffindor."

Lily lit up like a Christmas tree. "Oh, me too!"

They exchanged congratulations all around, then looked at Severus. This was where it had really all gone sour last time. He had to be careful. "Wait, I never did catch your names," he said, trying to buy some time.

They were Sirius Black and James Potter, and as soon as he heard that, he remembered having known it. It was a strange sensation, but he decided not to dwell on it. "I'm Severus Snape," he introduced himself. "My mum's a witch. She thinks I'll be in Ravenclaw, but—" here he shrugged as though he didn't particularly care—"I've always been rather ambitious. I think it might be Slytherin for me."

Black and Potter reacted like they had been shown an infected wound. "But Slytherins are evil!" Potter shouted, waving his hands about ineffectually. "You can't possibly want to be one!"

"I wouldn't," Black added. "My family's Dark, and they've all gone to Slytherin. They're some of the craziest bastards you'll ever meet." From Black's tone, Severus figured this was an under-exaggeration. Huh. His dream-self had never looked into the Black family tree, but that would surely explain a lot.

But first, he tried to reason with them. "Not all Slytherins can be evil," he protested. "That's illogical, because that implies that all people with a certain personality type are evil."

"Well, they are!" Potter snapped. "They're all evil, lying, worthless—"

"James, shut up," Sirius said calmly. He looked at Severus. "The thing about House Slytherin," he explained, "is that most of them are from old, Dark families like mine. And the thing about old, Dark families like mine is that they have issues. Lots of inbreeding, lots of mental problems, those sorts of things. Lots of paranoia. Put a lot of people like that in one place together, and it starts to get worse. That's why I'm getting out while I can. I couldn't stand spending the next seven years surrounded by people like my family."

Severus paused. That…made sense. But it still didn't matter, because he would still go to Slytherin. He had to. Right?

"That's a good point to consider," he replied cautiously. "We'll just have to see where the Hat puts me then."

They stared at him. "What?" he protested.

"A Hat?" Potter asked. "My father said we have to wrestle a troll."

Shoot. He tried to shrug it off. "Just something I read in a book."

"Which book?" Lily probed, eyes boring into his skull. "None of the books I read said anything about the Sorting Ceremony. It's supposed to be a secret."

"Then maybe I didn't read it, all right? Maybe I just had a dream that there was a Hat that sang a song about the Houses and Sorted us." Lily eyed him skeptically. "It was a weird night," he defended himself. He'd been digging himself deeper with every word he'd said, but he hadn't been able to stop babbling.

Black grinned widely. "No offense, Snape, but I'd rather wrestle a troll."

"None taken, Black."

Severus was almost enjoying himself when the train pulled up to their destination. It turned out that Black and Potter weren't half-bad company when they weren't out to get him. Of course, Potter was still bigoted and kept making eyes at Lily, and Black was still an immature twerp. But that was to be expected. And Severus was actually far fonder of Black than he'd expected to be, because, now that he knew it was there, he could tell that Black did indeed have a serious side. Or, rather, a Sirius si—no, not going to go there. Uh-uh. Nope.

But it was irrelevant how much he hadn't minded them, because if he were Sorted into Slytherin as he planned, the most he could expect was to be their friendly enemy, if that. Judging by Potter's view of Slytherins in general, he doubted that he could even be that lucky.

They had all changed into their robes, and Severus was glad that, even if his were secondhand, they weren't terribly worn. Potter had struck up a conversation with Lily about pets; apparently he had a barn owl called Venator. Severus thought that that was terribly uncreative. A barn owl named Hunter in Latin? It was as though Potter hadn't even tried. Black, on the other hand, did not have a pet, he shared with Severus, because his mother believed emotional attachments were a sign of weakness. When pressed, however, he admitted that he would like to get a dog when he was older.

All conversation ceased when the Hogwarts Express screeched to a halt. Lily sat wide-eyed, clutching Lisianthus. Potter sat open-mouthed, and Black pasted his cockiest expression on his face. Severus tried to keep his face and body language neutral.

It all progressed from there as Severus remembered it. Rubeus Hagrid directed first-years onto little boats, four at a time. Severus ended up sitting with Lily, Black, and Potter again, though he recognized one of the other Marauders in the boat directly behind them, a lanky boy with tawny hair and amber eyes. He couldn't remember his name, though, as hard as he tried. It always remained on the tip of his tongue but just out of reach. The feeling was maddening.

Too soon, they stood in the Great Hall, under millions of enchanted stars. The sea of faces stretched from wall to wall. Severus saw Lucius at the Slytherin table, along with another, younger girl he recognized. They went together, or, at least, they would, but he still couldn't recall her name.

The room went silent and Severus realized with a wince that the Sorting Hat had appeared at the front of the room atop its customary stool. Lily elbowed him sharply, but the Hat opened a tear at its brim and began to sing.

Look at me, what do you see?

I am a Hat, of course.

But I am tasked to make the last

Decision about Sorts.

Now, will you go to Gryffindor,

For all those brave and true?

They do their best to earn their rest

Amid the tales of heroes past.

Or shall you go to Ravenclaw,

And stuff your brain with ancient lore?

To learn, and learn, and learn some more,

A different feat than Gryffindor?

Perhaps you'll fit with Hufflepuff,

To traverse smooth as well as rough.

'Loyalty,' now that's their creed,

And for their loyalty they'll bleed.

Or Slytherin, a name that's said

To frighten little kids in bed?

But ambition does not evil make

Those whose sigil is the snake.

And now it's time to look inside

And see what I can see.

I'll see your hopes, I'll see your fears,

I'll see every hidden tear.

But fear not: I will not speak

After in your mind I peek.

For my job is simple, simple to say:

I look at you, and who you are,

See in which House you will go far,

And I set you on your merry way.

Severus wasn't terribly impressed, but then, he supposed, it must be difficult to be inspired after so many years on the job. He tried to ignore the way his palms were sweating, even though he had been through this all before.

Black was the first Sorted of their little group, and, as predicted, he went to Gryffindor. The girl sitting at the Slytherin table who Severus had noticed earlier didn't react, though Severus had a gut feeling that they were connected in some way.

Lily went to Gryffindor. Severus would have been terribly surprised if she hadn't. The thought crossed his mind that perhaps he ought to have been pushing her towards Ravenclaw, but he shook it off. It was too late now.

The boy whom Severus had recognized on the boat ride—Remus Lupin—went to Gryffindor.

A nondescript boy with mousy brown hair—Peter Pettigrew—went to Gryffindor. Severus felt a growl build in his throat but cut it off. Pettigrew—the rat—had committed no sin yet. God help him if he ever did.

Potter also went to Gryffindor, though first he sat and casually chatted with the Hat for nearly five minutes. Severus wanted to rip his throat out, nervous from anticipation and indecision as he was. And finally, finally, it was Snape, Severus who was called.

He stumbled blindly to the stool, put on the Hat, and sat.

The Hat slid over Severus' eyes, its brim resting on the bridge of his nose. He squirmed uncomfortably, waiting.

"You're a strange one, aren't you?"the Hat said conversationally into Severus' ear, and Severus jumped. "Oh, I mean no offense by that, to be sure, but truly, you are. A mind full of memories that are and are not your own…is something I can't say I've seen before, and I've been a Sorting Hat for a rather long time."

So they are memories, Severus thought.

"Not anymore," the Hat corrected. "They were memories, but they're not anymore. It might be better to call them reflections, perhaps, like those seen in a pool of water. Make too many ripples, and they'll break apart. You're making waves, so they're not quite memories yet, and they likely won't be."

So I saw the future? Severus asked with a sense of quiet despair.

"That too. Or did you mean, did you see the future magically?" The Hat gave the impression of shrugging. "I couldn't tell you. I'm just a Hat, after all. The important thing is that you believe you can see the future magically. Believe me, belief is more powerful than the most powerful spell. There's a paradox in there somewhere. Or maybe not."

The Hat's tone turned sympathetic. "This is a heavy burden for anyone to carry. I wish it were not so, but perhaps it is best this way. And I would like to make something clear: you do have options. You have been proceeding close to the original timeline, but perhaps it is better if you veer from it. You have been avoiding that because you are frightened of going forward blind. Child, that is life. You wish to be happy in this life, do you not? Stop plotting."

But I can't, Severus thought desperately. There was a prophecy, and I chose the wrong side, and Lily died because of me—

"Child," the Hat interrupted, its voice much, much gentler now. "If there is a prophecy, then you can do nothing to negate it. You say that your friend died as a direct result of your actions? Then doing nothing may very well keep her alive just as well as if you actively work against the Dark Lord. But no matter what I tell you, you must decide on your own. You could choose to tell your mother that the dream didn't come true. She would embrace it with open arms. She would stop worrying about your fate. You could choose not to go to Dumbledore. He would seek to use your talents before they had developed when he should be focused on developing you. What harm has there ever been in waiting?"

The Hat's question dropped into stillness like a stone tossed into the bottom of a well.

It waited, then, seeing that it would not get a response, sighed heavily. "Well, I suppose I should Sort you," it said with a forced levity. "Hufflepuff, now that's out. You wouldn't fit in very well. Too sarcastic, too much of an outlier. Hufflepuff is very much loyal to its own members, and that is a trait you simply do not possess. You are loyal on your own say-so, and not because it is expected of you."

That's not a bad thing, Severus thought, ruffled.

"I didn't say it was," the Hat replied. "Gryffindor, now there's a quandary. You are brave, no doubt about it. You would do well there. But I am concerned that putting you in such close contact with Lily Evans would be detrimental to your mental health. You know of what I speak."

Severus did. Surely obsession would only grow with proximity. He did not want to become enamored with Lily Evans and lose the best (only) friend he'd ever had.

"So for that, let's say Gryffindor is out. Now, the real decision: Ravenclaw or Slytherin. You knew that it would come to this. And you're leaning in favor of Slytherin."

Severus nodded, and the Hat sighed explosively. "I see what I just told you about choices just went right over your head," it snarled, sounding peeved. "Let me give you all the reasons why I refuse to Sort you there: One, it's filled with blood purists, which you are not and do not wish to be this time around. Two, it will alienate you from Lily Evans, which, as I recall, you did not want to happen again. Three, it will make you a target for the Marauders. James Potter is over-excitable and arrogant, and he will mark you as an enemy. Sirius Black will go along with it because he will not want to alienate himself by defending a Slytherin. Four, it will limit your opportunities and your allies in the event of a war. Shall I go on?"

But I have to go there! Severus protested desperately. I have to be recruited by the Dark Lord again!

"Rubbish," snapped the Hat. "You were a brilliant student the first time. Admittedly, you didn't try on schoolwork nearly as hard as you ought to have, but that's neither here nor there. Add nearly twenty years of experience to your mind, and what was brilliant before will be blinding." The Hat's voice dropped an octave. "People will notice you, Severus Snape. Make no mistake, the Dark Lord Voldemort will want you. You need not worry about that, if that is what you desire."

Well, that was a terrifying thought.

But I have to be in Slytherin because I have to win Lucius over to the Light side! Severus protested, but more weakly than before. The Hat's tirade had filled him with quiet, nagging doubts.

"No, you don't," the Hat answered readily. "I told you, you will attract attention. People like Lucius Malfoy will look at you, and they will see power. Lucius will approach you and attempt to cultivate you as an ally. That will give you all the opportunity that you will need to try and influence his actions."

But what if you're wrong? Severus thought in a small voice.

"Then I will be surprised," the Hat declared. "I have been doing this job for a millennium, Severus Snape. Moreover, I have seen both Lucius Malfoy's and Tom Riddle's minds. I doubt that I am wrong."

It could tell that he still wasn't entirely convinced. "And perhaps you are mourning the loss of your reputation if you go to Ravenclaw. Slytherins are known, after all, for being competent and well-rounded, as well as ambitious. But let me tell you that as a Ravenclaw, you will be underestimated. People will look at you and they will see an air-brained bookworm who would rather be translating runes than doing anything useful. That is hardly a bad thing for someone in your position. And I will tell you that you were not Sorted wrongly the first time. Were it not for the blindingly stupid decisions you would make and the company you would be surrounded by, I would Sort you there still." Here the Hat took on a wheedling tone. "Now you tell me, where is the last place one would expect to find a Slytherin?"

Damn, thought Severus, though he could not deny that he was relieved not to go back to that House made up of thinly veiled insults and even more transparent manipulations. The Hat had made a good case, and he supposed he would try to take it in good grace.

"RAVENCLAW!" the Hat roared, opening its brim as far as it could go.

A table of students burst into cheers. Severus stood, wobbly-legged, and took the Hat off. As he raised it from his head, he heard it whisper, "Tell me how it goes."

He stumbled to the Ravenclaw table and sat amidst numerous handshakes and pats on the back.

There was no turning back now.

A/N

Hello, my ducklings. I'm sorry this was so late, so I made it extra-extra-long.

Of course, this was my chapter with the obligatory Sorting Song, mandatory for all writers of Harry Potter fanfiction. I'm so sorry.