September 1st, 1971

I wake to my mum's voice as she opens my bedroom door. The sheets are bloodstained from my back. I cried myself to sleep last night, "Severus? Wake up! It'll be time to go soon!"
I rub the sleep from my eyes and sit up stiffly, wincing as the clotted blood and scabbing skin on my back cracks open, "Yes, ma'am," I mumble sleepily, then I remember what day it is, "Mum?"
"What?" she snaps.
"You said you'd take me to the platform today, right? Can you cut my hair before we go, too? It'll look bad if I do it myself again like last time, and dad says I look like a girl with long hair."
"I let you sleep in, so we don't have time to give you a haircut. You'll have to just deal with it until Christmas break or cut it yourself when you get to school. And I don't know why he says that. I think you look fine with longer hair. All the men in my family always had hair that length. My side of the family always had wavy hair, though. Your hair is more like your father's. Ah well, go ahead and get up, brush your teeth, and take a quick shower. You don't want to be dirty at sorting!"
"Yes, ma'am," I sigh, and gingerly stand up. I brush my teeth with my worn down toothbrush and water (we ran out of toothpaste a while ago) and take a quick, cold shower. Tears begin to roll down my cheeks as I rinse the soap out of my hair and the welts all over my back begin to burn, but I wipe them angrily away. After I have gotten out, rubbed my hair dry and combed it out as best I could, I put on my jeans, t-shirt and the sweater the factory gave my dad four years ago when he started working there. He gave it to me last Christmas when they gave him a new one. This one's threadbare and huge on me, but I still like it just the same. Last month when I was at St. Mungo's for a checkup to see how my brain was healing, they took my height and weight. I was 4 foot 3 and 40 pounds. They told me I needed to make sure to eat when I get to school so that I can try to catch up to the other boys. I'm still too short and too skinny, but my mum says there's lots of good food at Hogwarts, and I won't have to worry about not being able to eat while I'm there. I'm excited to not have to survive off crackers, rice, canned food, and the occasional meal at Lily's anymore!

When we get off the Knight Bus at King's Cross, we quickly head through the station until we reach platforms nine and 10. My mum and I run through the barrier together. She helps me push my trolley because it is too heavy for me to run with. When it is time to say goodbye, I give her a big hug through the open window of the train.
"Stay safe!" I call as the train starts puffing.
"Be good!" she calls back, and then the train is moving, and she's gone. I walk slowly down the corridor to find Lily. I feel people's stares as they look at me through their compartment windows, judging my ragged, overlong hair and my old clothes. Whenever I hear a compartment door slam, I have to fight the urge to run and hide— I have to remind myself that my dad can't find me here. I am getting away.

As we walk through the Great Hall, I can feel the eyes on me— following the swish of my graying, second hand robes and my muddy, beat-up boots. The robes are my mum's from when she was at Hogwarts. She shrunk them to fit me, then covered up the green trimmings with some old tablecloth fabric we found at the donation center and dyed black. They were already well worn when she gave them to me before we left to catch the Hogwarts Express. We could not afford nice shoes, so I have to wear the boots I got from the donation center last Christmas. They're too small now, and pinch my feet. We found my black pants and white shirt at the donation center as well, and my sweater was my mum's. She didn't bother covering the green stitching up, as, "you'll be sorted into Slytherin right away, no doubt." She sewed on the black fabric to my robes with a simple running stitch, so it'll be easy for me to remove after the sorting. I turn my head swiftly to look at the Slytherin table. A regal looking boy with hair so blond it looks white is eyeing me with some disdain. We lock eyes for a second, then I look away. When Lily is sorted into Gryffindor, my heart falls. I look back at her and see her chatting with one of the boys who had called me Snivellus on the train, and feel a deep anger rise up inside me. Lost in my fears of Lily deserting me, the sorting moves very quickly. Soon, Professor McGonagall is calling my name. I snap out of the daze of my thoughts and shuffle up to the stool. McGonagall slips the old sorting hat on to my head. I can feel the rest of the students' eyes on me, judging me. I am not good enough to be here. I am too small, too skinny, too poor, too stupid, too ugly, and and and and…
"Do not be afraid, child," says a small voice in my ear, "you have lived through so much— you are so brave."
Suddenly, a wave of confidence washes over me. I sit up straighter and take a deep breath, thinking, "I don't care about bravery! I just wanna be powerful enough to make my dad be good again!"
"SLYTHERIN!" the hat shouts. It is removed from my head. As I open my eyes, I am no longer trembling. I walk, straight-backed, down to the Slytherin table. The regal looking boy scoots over, smiles at me and beckons to me with his long fingers. I sit down, and look at my knees. The feeling of confidence has worn off, and I'm nervous again. Surprisingly, he pats my back. I flinch as the welts on my back sting. I look up into his eyes, and he gives me another smile. My lips twitch into a small smile back up at him. I look quickly back up to the front table as Professor Dumbledore begins to speak.

As I begin putting the small amount of items I have away in my bedside table and chest of drawers, I know that the rest of my roommates are looking at me, and judging me on my obvious poverty.
"Hey, you."
I look up into the face of a big, burly looking boy I remember from the sorting, "Yeah?" I retort, looking him straight in the eyes.
"You're not welcome here, mudblood," he jeers.
"Call me a mudblood again and see what happens," I say quietly, gripping my wand under my cloak. I know what to do. I can feel the power in my chest, running down my arm.
"You can sleep on the floor where you belong, you mud—"
"Petrificus-totalus," I say, pointing my wand calmly at the boy's chest. The boy's arms and legs jerk together, and he falls to the floor. I squat down next to his head, look into his scared eyes, and sneer at him, "Let's get one thing straight— I ain't no mudblood."
When I straighten back up and look around, I see the rest of my roommates looking at me in awe and fear. After a pregnant pause, the one whose bed is next to mine to the right walks over to me. He is average height and weight, but a bit gangly, as if he just finished a growth spurt. His short brown hair is combed neatly back, and his hazel eyes lock with mine as he holds out his hand.
"Evan Rosier," he says.
"Severus Snape," I respond.
"Where did you learn how to do that?" Rosier asks. I shrug my shoulders and turn away to keep putting my things away, "Do you know the counter-curse?"
"Yeah, but I might as well leave him there till I'm done puttin' my stuff away. See how he likes bein' on the floor, since that's where he thinks I belong."
"Can you teach me?"
"Maybe tomorrow. It's in our textbook for this year, anyways," When I have shaken the hands of John Mulciber and Clarence Avery, I take the curse off the big boy on the floor. He gets up, looks around embarrassedly, and walks back to his bed. I begin taking the black fabric off the green hems of my robes.
"Hey," the boy says, looking at me again. I cock one eyebrow at him, "Can you teach me to do that, too? Sorry I called you a mudblood."
"What's your name?" I ask.
"Joseph Wilkes."
"Sure."

When the other boys change into their pajamas, I don shorts, and the t-shirt and sweater I wore on the train. I can feel my roommates' eyes on me. I know they are looking at the welts and scars on my back, the yellowing bruises on my arms and legs, and my protruding bones. I get into bed quietly.
"Goodnight, Severus!"
"Goodnight, Evan."
"See you in the morning."
"Hey— wanna get breakfast together?" I ask quickly, without thinking of Lily. As soon as I ask, I feel guilty, but, I remind myself, Lily will have probably made friends with her whole house by now. She'll have no problem finding somebody to eat with in the morning.
"Sure! Clarence, do you want to eat with us, too?" Evan asks.
"I was going to eat with Joseph and John. We could all eat together if you want, though!" Clarence responds.
"It doesn't matter to me! We can just go when we go and sit together once we get to the Great Hall," Evan says.
After we say goodnight, it takes me a while to fall asleep. I'm excited for the school year, but a little apprehensive. I hadn't thought that the other kids might
make fun of me for being poor. I've never been in a school where the other kids weren't poor like me. I've been made fun of now twice in the same day, and I don't want that to keep happening. I reckon Joseph won't make fun of me anymore, but those boys in Gryffindor probably will. I'll just have to show them they can't mess with me, I guess.