Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this story (more's the pity--they could help pay my student loans), except for Eve Berger. Nor did I come up with the plot of PoA, and the scenes and dialogue included in that fab book, which I humbly reproduce at certain points herein. All that belongs to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., Bloomsbury, Raincoast, Scholastic...the list goes on!

A/N: Particular thanks to my beta, Joan, as she helped me write the Sorting Hat song in this chapter. Check out her brilliant fics under her pen name: "Hyacinth Macaw".

At last, Snape fans! Our beloved Potions Master has a segment in this chapter, and will have in almost every chapter from now on, as the fic does centre around Snape and Eve, for the most part. He's my favourite character as well, so I do want to have him in here when possible. I just needed to set up my OC, which unfortunately necessitated Snape's absence for a little while. Enjoy!

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Chapter Four: Welcome to Hogwarts

There was a moment's pause before one of the doors creaked open, and someone stepped into the doorway, silhouetted in the light of the entrance. A tiny man, shorter than the students even, stood in the doorway.

'Ere's the firs' years, Professor Flitwick, Hagrid said and the small man motioned for the students to follow him into the Entrance Hall. They trouped in, looking around in awe as the climbed the large staircase to the landing and another pair of doors, these ones only a little smaller than the outer doors. Eve could hear the buzz of chatter in the room beyond, as though there was a huge hive of bees behind the doors.

Flitwick gave the students an uneasy smile, as though he was trying to appear more cheerful than he felt. When he spoke, it was with a high-pitched voice, his apparent nervousness making him squeak at points. Welcome, new students! In a minute you will enter the Great Hall, but before we begin the Welcoming Feast, you will all have to be sorted into one of the four houses here at Hogwarts. The houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. You will attend classes with your housemates, eat with them, sleep in the house dormitories and spend your free time in the house common rooms. Now please wait here a minute, while I check that everything is ready.

Flitwick left, and as soon as he was out of sight feverish whispers began amongst the students. Exactly how was one sorted? Did they have to do some form of magic trick? Was there some sort of quiz? Someone in the group had heard something about a hat from an older brother at Hogwarts; were names picked out of it at random?

Eve listened to the whispers, the knot in her stomach tightening by the second. She prayed fervently that it was a random selection, or something not requiring magical knowledge. Though she'd read some of her books for the term already, she didn't remember much and she hadn't actually tried any spells or anything yet.

Finally Flitwick returned, and ordered them to form a line. That done, he pushed open the doors, and the students filed into a large hall, larger than any room they had ever been in. There was a collective gasp as they took in the high, vaulted ceiling that displayed the gloomy night sky outside, the thousands of candles that floated above their heads, the golden plates and goblets set along the long house tables, the huge leaded-glass windows along the hall that reflected the candlelight like an infinite number of twinkling, yellow stars.

Eve tried not to look around her at the students they were passing, all of whom were staring at the newcomers; at her, most particularly. She should have realized when she'd accepted a place here that she'd be the subject of attention, as, even amongst the older students, she would likely stick out.

The line of first years made their way to the front of the hall to stand in a row in front of the teachers' table, which was on a raised platform. In front of the table, someone had placed a low stool and on top of that, a rather ancient- and shabby-looking pointed hat. The hat was patched in various places and it looked as though if someone as much as touched it, it would fall to pieces. Eve looked at it with the eye of a conservator and wondered how on earth it kept its shape, as well as how old it could be, considering the castle would likely be damp and draughty.

As she peered at the hat, it seemed to move slightly, and a large rip near the brim opened wide.. The hall fell silent and as she looked at it in astonishment, the hat began to sing.

Four houses form the Hogwarts roll
Their names known far and near
But which one will be your house
When you are Sorted here?
Gryffindor is the house
For those made of sterner stuff
Slytherin is perfect for
those who find 'good' not enough
Ravenclaws use their brains
To find their problems' end
Hufflepuffs show loyalty
To an ally and a friend
This school begun with much pride
By the Hogwarts Founders Four
These four houses bear their names
Now they are here no more
So slip me on your noggin
And let me take a peek
Put your trust in my wisdom
And you'll find what you seek.

The applause died down, and Flitwick hopped up onto a stepstool before taking out a large scroll of parchment from his robes. When I read your name, please come up here, sit on this stool and then place the hat on your head. When you have been sorted, you can go sit with your housemates. Abelson, Morgan!

A small, blonde-haired girl stepped forward, nearly shaking with fright. Flitwick lifted the hat from the stool as she neared, then placed it on Abelson's head, the brim slipping down over her eyes. There was a pause, then the hat's mouth opened.

it shouted, and Flitwick lifted the hat off Abelson's head before she ran to join her cheering housemates.

Ayers, Thomas! A scrawny boy with smooth, brown hair sat on the stool and again the brim of the hat fell to about mouth level on him. A slightly longer pause this time, then:

Berger, Eve!

Eve gulped and walked up to the stool with wobbly legs and sweaty palms, feeling the curious stares of the entire hall on her. Flitwick placed the hat on her head...and it fit perfectly. There was a rumble of laughter in the hall, and Eve kept her eyes resolutely pointed upwards at the brim of the hat, trying to will herself not to turn any more pink than she already was.

From inside the hat she could hear a muffled voice saying, Hrm, quite a different sort of head here than I'm used to, older, but that does make things easier... A good deal of intelligence, that's for sure, and very loyal as well... A peculiar combination of wanting to do well, with a desire not to be noticed...not Slytherin then, but what's this? There's courage here, quite a good deal of it...

Me? Brave? Hardly. I highly doubt that I'd be the type to run into a burning building for someone, Eve thought.

You would be surprised, the hat said, and Eve started. She'd forgotten that it could probably read her thoughts. There is bravery here, more than you think. Yes, I think you definitely belong in...GRYFFINDOR! This last was shouted to the entire hall, and there were cheers at the Gryffindor table. Flitwick lifted the hat off Eve's head and she scurried for the refuge of the table, sinking into a seat with a relieved sigh, even if she wasn't entirely certain that the hat had made the right choice.

The sorting continued, with applause and cheers from each table as another house member was added to their ranks. Finally the Sorting Hat and stool were removed and Flitwick moved to his seat at the teachers' table, along with McGonagall, who had come in through a side entrance. There was a momentary surge of muttering at the Gryffindor table, and Eve turned to see a dark-haired boy and a smugly-smiling girl seating themselves at the table.

What was that all about? a young, red-haired boy said quietly as the other two sat down. The dark-haired boy looked as though he was about to reply, but stopped abruptly as he looked at the head table, and Eve turned to see what had cut him off.

An ancient-looking man with twinkling eyes, sitting in a large throne at the centre seat of the teachers' table, stood and looked around the hall, silence falling again. Eve assumed that this was the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.

Welcome! Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! he said brightly, I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast. He cleared his throat before continuing, becoming slightly more stern. As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the Dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business. They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds, and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled with tricks or disguises, or even Invisibility Cloaks- Dumbledore glanced briefly over at the Gryffindor table, and Eve turned slightly to see the red-haired and dark-haired boys look at each other momentarily. It is not in the nature of a Dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the Prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the Dementors. Dumbledore's expression brightened then, and went on to introduce the two new teachers: a Professor Lupin, who appeared rather pale and scruffy, as the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher; and Hagrid, who was taking over Care of Magical Creatures. Finally, Dumbledore took a look around the hall, and announced that the feast would begin.

At Dumbledore's word, huge platters of food appeared on the tables out of thin air. Eve gaped at it all. There was more different types of food here than she could have bought in a months' shopping. Roast chicken and beef, four types of potatoes, huge bowls of steamed or boiled vegetables, tureens of gravy, piles of fresh-baked bread and buns, sausages, corn-on-the-cob, huge jugs of what appeared to be pumpkin juice...enough food at each table to feed a small country. Only once the food appeared did Eve realize that she was absolutely ravenous, having eaten next to nothing on the train. She refilled her plate two times, each time taking a helping of something different. Much to her surprise, not only was there a lot of food, but it was good as well. She had been expecting the Hogwarts food to be as bad as that they'd served in her university residence, and about as unidentifiable. But this tasted like it had been cooked by some expert chef--or by her mother. Everything was flavourful and done to perfection.

Once the first hunger pangs had been assuaged, the students began talking, asking the usual introductory questions of each other. Quite predictably, a few of those questions were directed at Eve.

Aren't you too old to be a first year? a girl with a sharp face and blonde curls asked. Eve could hear a few conversations amongst the older students trailing off as they listened for her answer.

Er, yes. Apparently I've somehow developed magical powers, only in the last few years.

Were you a squib, then? a chubby-faced boy asked.

A what?

A squib. Someone from a magic family who doesn't have magic powers.

No. None of my family are magic--at least, none that I know of.

Ah. A Muggle, then, the sharp-faced girl said. How old are you, exactly?

Eve said, preoccupying her gaze with pouring gravy on her roast chicken so she wouldn't have to see the odd expressions she knew were all around her. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the students closest to her look at each other in amazement. One of them turned the conversation to something else, though Eve couldn't quite figure out whether it was intended as a kindness or a snub.

After they had stuffed themselves on dinner, desserts appeared: numerous cakes and squares, bowls of ice cream, and dishes of sweets. Though everyone had eaten as much as they could with the main course, they managed to make a sizeable dent in the desserts as well.

So that's who we've got for the year, said an upper-year student sitting on Eve's left, gesturing toward Lupin. The speaker was one of two identical twin boys, both with matching freckles and bright red hair.

Is it just a yearly position? Eve asked.

Might as well be. We haven't had a teacher stay from more than a year or so for most of the time we've been here, eh George? The boy looked over at his twin.

And yet Snape still hasn't managed to get the job, George said. He turned to Eve, holding out his hand. George Weasley. This is Fred, he said, gesturing to his twin.

Eve took the proffered hand gladly. Eve Berger. Who's Snape?

Professor Snape, teaches potions and he's the head of Slytherin House. You can't miss him; he's the sour-looking, greasy-haired git two to the right from Dumbledore, Fred replied.

Eve looked along the table and saw the man they were talking about. He was hard to miss. Dressed all in black, with long, greasy black hair and a long, aquiline nose that looked like it had been broken at least once, he stood out amongst the somewhat more colourfully dressed teachers. He was also the only one with a positively acidic expression on his face. He kept glancing over at Lupin with purely venomous looks, which Lupin appeared not to notice.

He certainly looks...intimidating, Eve said, slowly.

You don't know the half of it. He's a right bastard, Snape. He'll take points off for anything, particularly from us Gryffindors. Just don't get on his bad side, or he'll hound you every day you're here.

Which is easier said than done, the black-haired boy said.

Snape's had a grudge against Harry, here, since the day he arrived, Fred explained, It's a really long story, and we don't know the half of it. Suffice to say, you don't want Snape to single you out.

Too late, thought Eve, I don't think I could stand out more if I got up on the table and danced the tango in a chicken suit.

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Snape watched the Sorting with barely-disguised boredom. He paid enough attention to get a good look at the students entering his house, trying to mentally file away the names and faces for later. He had to admit to some curiosity as to what the much-discussed Miss Berger looked like and where she ended up, but lost interest when she was Sorted into Gryffindor.

Just what the world needs, Snape thought, another reckless fool probably in need of an attitude adjustment. But once Berger had sat down, looking excessively relieved, his thoughts returned to the subject they'd been occupied with for weeks now: Remus Lupin, who sat a few chairs down from him. Snape found himself looking at Lupin often, not bothering to disguise the hatred that was bubbling inside him.

Lupin, for the most part, never even glanced over at where Snape sat, and certainly didn't seem to notice Snape's glares. He chatted amicably with the other teachers, acting as though everything was perfectly normal, that he was just any other teacher. As though the man wasn't a danger to everyone around him once a month. As though the man's (former?) best friend, now a psychotic murderer, hadn't managed to escape from prison a few weeks before, disappearing without a trace.

Snape found Lupin's ease and comfort greatly irritating and not a little suspicious. Lupin and Black had tried to kill him once before, after all. With that in Lupin's past, he might very well not have been too concerned about Black's later actions. The man was a bloody werewolf. If Black came to Lupin asking for help to get to Harry Potter...

Dumbledore caught Snape's eye as Snape glared at Lupin yet again, giving Snape a level look before standing to dismiss the students. Snape turned his eyes back to the table as he stood to leave, thinking back to the numerous times he'd tried to talk to the Headmaster about his decision to hire Lupin. He'd made further protests after the staff meeting, his respect for Dumbledore preventing him from coming out and saying anything against the Headmaster's decision in front of the other teachers.

But the Headmaster wasn't willing to listen, naturally, Snape thought with a sneer as he strode purposefully down to his chambers in the dungeon. Dumbledore had always had a soft spot for Lupin, as he had for Potter, Black and Pettigrew, viewing them as near-harmless pranksters, not knowing half of what they'd done to their fellow students. Snape himself, especially. The thought that he had effectively dismissed their attempted murder of Snape, had even had the temerity to ask Snape not to tell anyone about Lupin, still rankled. Despite the fact that Snape owed Dumbledore so much, had long before given lip service to his forgiveness of Dumbledore for the handling of that incident, he certainly had not forgotten. And he'd be damned if he'd let Lupin get anywhere near committing the same act on anyone else.

That was why he'd agreed to brew the wolfsbane potion for Lupin. It wasn't out of kindness, or even simply because the Headmaster had asked him to. He wasn't about to risk anything happening to any of the students and therefore having two werewolves running around the school. Somewhere beneath the accumulated sludge in his soul, he had enough of a sense of honour to make certain of that. Besides, this way he could keep a close watch on Lupin, just in case Sirius Black came calling at the castle.

Arriving at his rooms, Snape took down a thick, leather-bound Astronomy book, thumbing through the pages until he found the chapter on calculating the phase and placement of the moon. Using the mathematical formulas inside, he quickly calculated when the next full moon would be, down to the minute. The last full moon had just waned, giving him a few weeks to prepare the potion for the next cycle; as the mixture took two weeks to fully mature, it was a good thing that he had the time.

Grabbing a book from a different shelf, Snape flipped to the page where he'd neatly noted the recipe for the wolfsbane potion, and went to his stores to retrieve the proper ingredients. It wasn't likely that he would make a mistake, but he had long before learned to leave enough time, in case something inexplicably went wrong. In this case, he was taking no chances.

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Finally everyone was excused to go to bed, the prefects leading their charges to the respective dormitories. The Gryffindor prefect, Percy Weasley (who was Head Boy as well) kept up a running commentary as he led them to Gryffindor Tower, Eve trying to look around at the various stairwells and hallways that they passed through while listening to him. Eve was certain that she'd never remember how to get back up there, particularly when the stairwells kept moving.

They reached what appeared to be a dead end, a large portrait of a fat woman in a pink dress on the wall at the end. As they approached, the woman in the portrait moved, lifting her fan gracefully.

the fat woman asked.

Fortuna Major, Percy said, and the portrait swung open to reveal a large hole in the wall. They stepped through the hole and entered a cosy, circular sitting room, full of generously stuffed armchairs and with a large fireplace.

Percy gestured around the room as he spoke. This is your common room. The boys' dormitories are up the left-hand staircase, the girls up the right. You'll spend most of your free time in here--

His instructions were interrupted by a shriek from one of the other first years. Eve turned with everyone else to see a translucent, white shape make its way through the wall. It was a man, dressed in a ruff and doublet, with a pointed beard and moustache.

Why, hello, he said, and drifted towards the first years, who all took a step back. New Gryffindors, eh? I'm Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, house ghost. Hope you'll keep up the proud tradition. Now that we're beating Slytherin for the House Cup again, we don't want to break our winning streak, do we? He shook his head at that, and suddenly his head flopped to the side, as though on a hinge. His neck had been almost completely severed, except for a thin piece of skin and muscle. A chorus of disgusted moans rose from the group. Eve was suddenly thinking that maybe she shouldn't have eaten so much at dinner, as she was dangerously close to losing it at that moment.

You're Nearly Headless Nick? one of the first-years piped up.

Nick looked rather miffed. Sir Nicholas, if you don't mind. Now, I'd best be off--the other ghosts and I are having a bit of a start-of-year bash down in the dungeons. He waved to the group and then drifted off through the portrait.

The first year students were led up to their dormitories, Percy taking Eve aside before she started up the girls' staircase. You've got a separate room all to yourself, it's a couple flights up. Your initials will be on the door, you can't miss it." Eve thanked him and started up the stairs, passing two landings before finally finding it a three-step staircase branching off the main one, leading to a slightly recessed door with "E.B." on it in gold lettering.

Opening the door, her eyes widened as she took in her first sight of her home for the next few years. The room was snug; not cramped, but not large either. There was a four-poster bed to her left, crimson curtains hanging from the canopy, and a puffy, crimson duvet covering the bed. A wardrobe and night table stood on opposite sides of the bed. There were two recessed, leaded-glass casement windows across from her bed, with a fireplace tucked inbetween them. A desk and set of shelves had been placed in between the door and one of the windows. The walls and floor were stone, the room lit by hurricane lamps in wall brackets.

Eve noticed that her belongings had been brought up, her trunk placed at the foot of her bed, her rucksack placed just inside the door. Erik was curled up on her bed looking contented, his almost-empty food bowl evidence that someone had made sure he was fed. She closed the door behind her, and, too weary to think of anything else, changed into her night-gown and climbed into bed, noticing that the fire died down and the lamps extinguished themselves as she closed her bed-curtains. Snuggling under the thick duvet, she only briefly wondered what the first day of classes would bring, before finally falling into a sound sleep.