Updated August 2016
The Muggle Slytherin
… "Elliot, Peter!"
"Ravenclaw!"
"Greengrass, Cassius!"
"Slytherin!"
"Hincks, Marielle!"
"Gryffindor!"
Severus Snape leant back in his comfortable chair at the staff table and stared towards the enchanted ceiling, seemingly bored, but actually feeling as contented as he was able to feel at this time of his life. So he was back to the drill, The Great Hall was filled with students occupying the lengths of the dining tables, thousands of candles hovering above them and the sorting procedure in full swing. Snape noted the new additions to his house at the periphery of his mind only – he would remember their names, anyway, since there were hardly any surprises (they were almost always the same family names) and he had a good memory for them – while thinking of entirely different things. He didn't like festive occasions and the turmoil that went with them, but there was no way out of this one and he had a long-standing practice of suffering through such events in almost complete absentmindedness. He reminded himself that he had to complete the application for an Apparition class with the Ministry of Transportation for Elena. It was about time that she learnt, although she wasn't yet registered as a witch and foreign at that, so the process was tricky and bureaucratic. At the moment, he was still trying to get through all the paperwork which sat on the desk in his office and he hoped that this stupid little party of the loud-mouthed Sorting Hat would be over before long.
"Hollis, Cindy!"
"Ravenclaw!"
"Jarrett, Isabelle!"
"Gryffindor!"
He only allowed himself to overlook the swarming tables every once in a while, first and foremost because of the looks he got back. Snape had not been able to ignore the wide eyes that met him from all sides. Most of them were of disbelieving awe. He was the man who had risen from the dead. He was also the man that nobody knew what to think about, whether to call him hero or traitor. The reaction of his Slytherins had been particularly complex. There had been covert sneers and dirty looks. Not a small number of them had family members in jail, and here he was, the ready scapegoat. He sighed at the prospect of keeping them in line this year. Snape had no doubt that he would be able to discipline a bunch of raucous teenagers, however, he didn't feel like it at all.
"Lattimer, Jamie!"
"Ravenclaw!"
"Macmillan, Marjorie!"
"Hufflepuff!"
"Nott, Damian!"
"Slytherin!"
Not one Slytherin yet that didn't come from a pure-blood family. Snape remembered the cautions that his mother had given him when he had first come to Hogwarts. Not to bother the pure-bloods, but not be bullied by them, either. Show them who he was and what he could do, as they would respect cleverness and magical prowess. He had followed up on that faithfully and it had served him well. After the first difficult years, they had been prepared to forget his half-blood status and more or less accepted him as one of their own. To achieve this, however, he'd had to work hard. True Slytherins were not easily impressed.
"Nugent, Everett!"
"Hufflepuff!"
"Paik, Laurie!"
"Slytherin!"
It was the complete absence of cheers, replaced by a buzz of whispers, that jolted him out of his thoughts. What had happened? His Slytherins sat dumbstruck, staring in disbelieve as a small thin girl hopped from the stool onto which she had been placed for the sorting and crept towards their table, shoulders hunched a little. He saw a pair of tattered jeans showing under her school robes, and dirty sneakers, the same kind that Elena always wore and which Muggles referred to as 'Chucks'. She was small and thin, her hair a bluish black and her features suggested an Asian heritage. The surname – Paik – Snape had never heard before in these walls. That didn't really mean anything. However, he couldn't help noticing the look on Minerva McGonagall's face. She stood stiffly, Sorting Hat in hand, and her expression was nothing short of shocked.
"Why, that's remarkable", Filius Flitwick on his left chuckled quietly. "A Muggle-born in Slytherin?"
"Hardly", Snape hissed back, "you must be mistaken."
"I'm certain", Flitwick insisted, "we talked about this girl in the teachers' meeting, remember? She's the one who's getting funded by the Ministry of Magic because she comes from a … precarious background."
In fact, Snape couldn't remember at all. He suffered through teachers' meetings much in the same way as he did through festivities. A little dismayed now, he watched the girl who sat hunched at the Slytherin table. She seemed to know exactly that she didn't belong there, even if it hadn't been for the cold looks she received from all sides. Nobody had said a kind word or patted her on the shoulder, and from the first moment she was some kind of an alien, an aberration.
"Maybe the Sorting Hat is getting old", Snape murmured. "I hear it got thrashed up pretty badly in the Battle?"
Flitwick gazed at him sternly. "Why, this is certainly not the first Muggle in Slytherin, even if it has been for decades. I hope you'll find a better excuse if you want to get rid of her than blaming the Sorting Hat. – Haven't changed much, have you?"
Snape merely raised his eyebrows, but didn't reply. How often had he heard this remark in the last few days? Why did everybody expect him to have changed when it rather seemed to him that everybody else hadn't changed and still insisted on putting the worst possible interpretation on everything he said? It reminded him of something that Dumbledore had told him once: 'You see what you expect …' Well, at least that didn't exclusively apply to him.
He received more proof of this fact as the start-of-year procedure finally ended. Relieved, Snape drew his cloak around himself, eager to vanish into the shadows of the dark corridors and retreat to his private quarters in the dungeons. On his way, he almost ran into Hermione Granger who was walking in the opposite direction.
At first, he stared a little before it occurred to him that, in fact, she was back, doing her seventh year properly, as had been mentioned in the teacher's meeting, as well. Obviously, she didn't think that the last year spent on the run with Potter and Weasley had prepared her for a great future, although Snape would have held that it was worth ten seventh years at Hogwarts. However, he respected ambition and the will to work hard, and of the 'Golden Trio' Granger had always been the lesser evil to him. That didn't mean, however, that he had any intention of returning the friendly smile and nod she turned towards him. Instead, he feigned preoccupation and merely dashed past. It was in this moment that McGonagall called after him.
"Severus! Just a quick word, if you please …"
He stopped, sighed, and turned what he hoped would look like an impassive face towards her. "Yes, headmistress?"
"We've got quite a situation here", McGonagall announced.
"We do?"
"Didn't you notice?" She stared at him adamantly. "Laurie Paik? She was sorted into your house!"
"So she is a Muggle-born …", he murmured.
"We spoke about her in the teachers' meeting ..."
"Yes, yes, I remember", he lied.
"… she's not only a Muggle-born, but the first Muggle-born to be sorted into Slytherin for many years, why, for decades!"
"I was suggesting to Filius that there might be something wrong with the Sorting Hat …"
"I beg your pardon? There is nothing wrong with the Sorting Hat! – Severus, you don't seem to realize that this is a very extraordinary event!"
Now she was exaggerating a little – after all, there had been Muggles sorted into Slytherin, albeit rarely – but Snape knew better than to tell her that.
"It is also a very difficult position", McGonagall went on, "difficult for the girl, specifically. I trust you noticed how your little Slytherins reacted …"
"Little Slytherins will be little Slytherins", Snape replied acidly.
"And it is your job to keep them in check!" McGonagall huffed. "Don't tell me that you don't know exactly what will happen to a Muggle-born in Slytherin! To ignore her will be the kindest thing that they may be doing!"
"Meaning?" he sighed, longing for the shadowy solitude of the dungeons.
"Meaning that I hold you responsible for the fate of this girl!"
"Me?" He stared at her in disbelieve now.
"Of course you!" A faint spray of spittle issued from the headmistress's mouth. "You are her Head of House! You're her mentor, the one she's going to look up to …"
"Ah, yes", he mumbled, miffed by the liberal interpretation McGonagall put on his position.
"Don't you 'ah, yes' me! You always say that when you really mean something entirely different! This girl comes from a difficult background. Dead father, a drunk for a stepfather, half a dozen siblings, a poky flat in a London ghetto … in short, she's had a bad start to begin with and her experience at Hogwarts mustn't add to that!"
They stared at each other belligerently.
"What will you have me do?" Snape asked finally. "Am I to baby-sit her twenty-four-seven? Am I to become some kind of … social counsellor?" His acquaintance with Elena had somewhat expanded his vocabulary, he realized.
"I don't care!" cried McGonagall. "Whatever you do, just make sure that she doesn't get beat up or jinxed to pieces or bogey-batted or … whatever! We are responsible for the education of our students, not for ensuring that they are constantly bullied!"
"You know very well that Slytherins have their own way of doing things", Snape growled. "It has always been so, even when I was a student. It's true, I'm their Head of House, but I can't be there to see what they are up to all the time!"
"Then make sure that they'll walk the line when you're not! – And make no mistake, Severus: the minute anything serious happens to Laurie Paik, you will have to answer for it!"
With that, she turned on her heel and swept down the corridor, forestalling any further discussion. Snape stared after her, fuming inside. Quickly, he weighed his options, but found that they were slim. So, after some minutes of deliberation, he made up his mind and took off towards the dungeons.
The Slytherin common room was swarming with students in a raucous mood, sort of happy to see each other again after the long summer vacation and after the turmoil that had preceded it. All in all, it was quite an innocuous scene and might make anyone believe that the boys and girls in this house weren't any different from ordinary teens. Snape knew very well that regaling each other with the dark jinxes they'd learnt over the holidays – but hadn't been allowed to practice during that time – was an integral part of the fun, a fun he didn't plan on taking from them. He also knew that underneath the bragging lay something entirely different.
When approaching the common room, he heard the warning whispers from afar.
"Smarten up, it's Snape!"
"Head of House coming through!"
He entered and pairs of eyes turned towards him, wide with apprehension and also – he couldn't help notice – scorn or something more serious. Alexander Flint, one of the Prefects, held up the door for him, trying hard to look servile.
"Good evening, sir, good to see you."
"Thank you, Mr Flint", Snape answered tersely, "would you be so kind to ensure me some degree of attention?"
However, it wasn't really necessary. The chatter and laughter had died down already and blank faces stared at him. Hard-to-read faces, too, but then that was part of the Slytherin way: never give away too much, and specifically not too soon.
"Listen up, everybody!" Flint hollered out anyway. "Your Head of House's got something to say!"
In a corner by the fireplace, Snape spotted Laurie Paik sitting all by herself. No black eyes or burnt hair (hair-combustion jinxes being the latest fashion), she seemed alright. Also, she gazed at him critically as if to say 'Now, what kind of plonker are you?' Snape looked hard at them all and the last trace of commotion died down.
"Good evening, Ladies and Gentlemen", he said in his usual silky voice which was low, but still carried to the last corner of the common room. "I'm glad to see you all in good health." It was the furthest he would ever go in the way of sentimentalities. Never would it have occurred to him to issue the usual start-of-year drivel that Dumbledore had been so good at and which McGonagall was eagerly copying. "Just a quick word before I leave you to your … business", Snape went on. He would have liked to say 'antics', but feared that it would encourage them to run wild. "I'm not going to beat about the bush, so listen carefully. – This House has a bad reputation." He stopped there and glowered at them to let his words sink in. "You all know why that is. And as much as you may not like it, you will have to get used to the fact that you as Slytherins are under more scrutiny than ever before. That may seem unfair to you – and I'd agree – however, life has never been fair and those of you who haven't yet cottoned on to this fact better get used to it."
Mutinous looks lashed back at him and there were a few suppressed hisses, but Snape ignored all that. "Now, as your Head of House, your misbehaviour will get back to me and although some of you may give a rat's arse about that …", sniggers flared up, but he silenced them with one cold flash of his black eyes, "… I certainly do not and will not hesitate to punish any stepping-out-of-line in the way I see fit, Slytherin or not."
"We don't want to give you any trouble, sir", Astoria Greengrass, another Prefect, piped up.
"Sucker!" somebody spat and Astoria's cheeks turned red.
"Thank you, Ms Greengrass", Snape said smoothly. "I rely on your and Mr Flint's help to keep your housemates in check this year. – Specifically, I want to impress on you all", now he addressed the crowd again and took a deep breath before he went on, "that you are all sitting in the same boat. So I suggest that you help and support each other. All of you. No exceptions."
Complete silence fell. It was uncomfortable and also a little offended. They had understood exactly what he meant, of that he was certain. Slytherins, after all, were many things, but not stupid.
"Thank you", he purred and turned to leave, trusting in the effect of his words.
"Sir?" a voice rang out.
He wheeled around. "Yes?"
It was Christabel Bullstrode, a fifth-year. Like her older sister Millicent, she was a bit of a lump and not easily intimidated. "Is it true that you were dead, sir?"
Now they all stared at him, eager for an answer. Snape was on the verge of replying his usual 'I don't know', but he realized that it would hardly impress them and not help his objectives, either. He decided to try a new approach.
"Yes", he said evenly. "And you know what, Ms Bullstrode? It made me care even less about what anyone might think about me. So you better don't put my back up."
With that, he swept out of the common room, however, not before catching a look of the new girl, Laurie Paik, the Muggle Slytherin. She had appeared bored and doubtful during his speech – suggesting that she was made of quite hard stuff and not easily impressed, which was, after all, a quality of the house she had been sorted into – but now her features wore an impression of incredulity. Her dark eyes pierced his as if she was looking for a shred of truth, something to rely on. Snape had to admit to himself that he was eager to see how she would do in class. Although he rarely acknowledged it, he knew from his own private experience that the greatest surprises frequently came from Muggle-borns …
As he walked towards his quarters, he passed the portrait of Morgan le Fay which hung prominently in the corridor. It was an accepted fact among Slytherins that, if Hogwarts had already existed in Morgan's days, she would have been one of them. It was quite a pleasing portrait, albeit dark, and certainly originated from the artist's imagination. It showed a beautiful woman with long wallowing black hair, fair skin and full red lips. It was also quite an erotic picture – she was depicted as buxom, with rounded hips and a small waist – and had inspired the fantasy of many a generation of adolescent male Slytherins.
At the moment, however, Morgan had company and she looked none too pleased about it. It was Albus Dumbledore standing by her side, blue eyes a-twinkling.
"Good evening, Severus", he accosted the passing man.
Snape stopped, looking confused. "Hello", he said with some hesitation.
"It's good to have you back here", the former headmaster said amiably. "You had me worried for a while, you know. That you wouldn't come back …"
"Because he's such an addition to the staff", Morgan murmured ironically, glowering at Snape. "And so handsome, too …"
Snape ignored her. "It was a spur-of-the-moment decision", he explained curtly.
"And a good one, I daresay", Dumbledore said, looking as if he wanted to congratulate him.
"Balderdash", nagged Morgan and pouted, "he's got nothing better to do …"
"I heard there's been an interesting development", Dumbledore went on, for his part ignoring the sarcastic witch. "A Muggle girl sorted into Slytherin! That certainly hasn't happened for quite a long time …"
"Not you, as well!" groaned Snape. "McGonagall already gave me an earful …"
"I can only imagine." Dumbledore issued a delighted little chuckle. "Though I must say it makes me ponder. And hope, too."
"Why?" asked Snape.
"Because it is a true sign that times are changing", explained Dumbledore, looking serious now. "The past years have left an imprint on the magical world's soul. Probably more profoundly so than we first acknowledged …"
"You think?"
"Why, Severus, certainly there must be a meaning to this. Why else would a Muggle be sorted into Slytherin, which is such a rare event in itself, and at this point in time at that?"
"Personally, I believe the Sorting Hat has gone wacky", Snape held forth, challenging Dumbledore to castigate him in the same way as Flitwick and McGonagall had. However, the painted man only laughed.
"Believe me, Severus, when I tell you this: there are no coincidences …"
"Speaking of which", Snape said quickly, remembering something, "the box you gave me …"
"Oh, yes! Are you finding its contents useful?"
"The books are great. Merlin's Code, specifically …" He broke off. Showing appreciation was not his strong suit.
"You gave him Merlin's Code?" Morgan hissed. "My Merlin's Code?"
"It was never yours, my dear, though God knows you did everything in your power to get it."
"However, there is an item that I can't figure out", Snape went on. "The one that looks like a nutcracker?"
Dumbledore smiled mysteriously. "Yeah, I thought that one might puzzle you …"
"What is it for?"
"Dumbass", Morgan hissed, glowering scornfully at Snape.
"Oh, that one you've got to figure out yourself, Severus!" Dumbledore exclaimed and once more, his bright blue eyes were twinkling. "Where would the fun be if I spelt everything out for you?"
"But what use is it going to be to me if I don't know what it is for?" Snape argued a little heatedly. He hated it when Dumbledore behaved in a patronizing way. He also hated not knowing something.
"It is my experience that the most useful items only reveal themselves at an hour of need", explained Dumbledore, "and I'd hate to deprive you of that experience."
"Well, thank you very much", Snape huffed.
"You will find out", Dumbledore said confidently. "But until then … don't ignore the dark powers still present in this castle …"
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"… and keep your eye on the Muggle girl. You seem to pick those up, don't you?"
Before Snape could say any more, Dumbledore had turned and left the portrait. Damn, why was everyone walking out on him these days? Slouching along the corridor and unlocking the door to his quarters, Snape pondered the old man's words. Now that he was thinking about it, he wasn't entirely sure just which Muggle girl Albus had meant …