Author's Note: Next chapter! Yes, we're still in the CoS timeline. ^_^ More
soon.
Maris Slytherin
Harry Potter and the Re-Sorting: Chapter 2
Finally, on the last day before he was to return to the Dursleys, he had made up his mind. Telling Hermione and Ron that he wanted to discuss his classes for next year (which was, in a way, true), he walked determinedly to the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the Headmaster's office. "Lemon Drop," he told the statue, and it jumped aside. He stepped onto the spiral staircase and let it take him up to Dumbledore's door. He felt only a momentary pang of guilt for using his knowledge of the password, but guessed that Dumbledore wouldn't mind all that much. He raised his hand to rap on the door, but the Headmaster's voice called, "Come in!" before he had touched the wood. He raised an eyebrow, but opened the door and stepped inside.
The room was as he remembered it - circular, full of odds and ends. The walls were covered with portraits of old Headmasters and Headmistresses. A couple glanced at him. He noticed that only one or two of them were in Slytherin colors. On the shelf behind Dumbledore lay two objects - Godric Gryffindor's sword, once more blood-free, and the Sorting Hat. He swallowed and stepped into the room.
"Please, sit, Harry," Dumbledore smiled at him. "Would you like a lemon drop?"
"Er... no thanks," he declined. He sat down in one of the huge armchairs facing the desk. His feet didn't touch the floor, and he felt very small indeed. It didn't help him to muster his courage.
"Harry... is this about what you mentioned last time?" Dumbledore asked finally, his voice tired, but gentle.
Harry nodded. His eyes flickered to the Sorting Hat, but it lay on the shelf gathering dust. His gaze returned to the Headmaster.
"Harry. What have you been thinking about?" his voice was serious. "Are you still unsure of the decision the Sorting Hat made?"
"That's just it- it wasn't the Hat's decision. It was mine," he countered, "and an uninformed one a that! Professor, Gryffindor is fine, but I just..."
The old man in front of him sighed. "You just need to know, is that it, Mr. Potter? I understand," he massaged his temples. Harry suddenly wondered where the 'Mr. Potter' had come from. Was Dumbledore... disappointed in him? For what? Not being the perfect Gryffindor he'd expected?
"Harry? Harry, I don't know what you want me to do. I can't just switch your house because you think you'd like to be in another."
"I didn't say-" he stopped. Did he want to be in another? Wasn't Gryffindor a good place? But something in him had to know. He sighed. "I guess I don't know what I want. Does it even matter? I just need to know where I'm supposed to be."
Dumbledore seemed to have come to a decision about something. He pointed his wand at the fireplace and green flames sprang up. "Severus? Would you mind assisting me for a moment?"
Harry heard a soft voice from the flames reply, "Of course not, Albus. I'll be there in a moment." He was surprised - it had certainly been his Potions Master's voice, but where was the hatred? The sneer? The superiority? He reasoned, Snape can't be bad all the time. Dumbledore is his friend, right? Or at least, someone who he respects. I don't know if Snape has any friends. But... that was... odd. For some reason Harry felt lighter, knowing that his Potions Master wasn't all bad. It would make classes more bearable if he knew it was mostly an act.
His thoughts were interrupted as the door opened behind him. Snape, he guessed.
"Yes, Albus?" the soft voice came. Snape couldn't see him, Harry realized, the chair was too big. Not wanting to seem like he was eavesdropping, Harry leaned forward in his chair a bit, letting the teacher know he was there. Snape's eyes widened slightly, but in a moment his face was once again the cold mask that Harry and his fellow students were used to. "Mr. Potter. Headmaster, has the boy managed to get into trouble even on his last day?" Harry decided he liked Snape's other voice better. He suddenly wished he could hear it again. I guess it's reserved for people he likes, he thought to himself.
The Headmaster's eyes twinkled. "Au contraire, Professor Snape. The boy merely had a.... notion... that I thought might interest you. Come, come, Severus. We can do without the Potions Master for a moment, how about giving us the Slytherin Head of House."
Snape arched an eyebrow. His pale skin contrasted starkly with the jet- black hair that hung about his shoulders. "I'm sure I have no idea what you mean, Albus," he replied mildly. "Are you suggesting a split personality? I assure you, I haven't one."
"Perhaps two, then, Severus?" Professor Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. Snape's lips twitched, and he sat in the unoccupied chair. Harry noted with some satisfaction that the Potions Master's feet barely touched the ground. Amused, he swung his legs and looked at Snape. Snape regarded him down his nose, then turned back to Dumbledore.
"A notion, Albus? What kind of a notion, exactly? If it's about decorating my dungeon, again..." he looked most horrified at the thought. Harry's eyebrows shot up, and Snape shot him a look that clearly said "Don't ask."
Dumbledore did not seem to notice. "Really, I think it could use some homey touches. How about a couch? Maybe some nice tapestries. What do you think, Severus? Would you like a lemon drop?"
Snape had closed his eyes and looked to be biting back a reply. "Yes, thank you."
"Hm... shame, really... draperies would do a world of good down there..."
"Um... Professor?" Harry spoke up timidly.
"What? Oh, right! Harry, I'm sorry. Would you like a lemon drop?" he offered him another one.
Harry blinked.
Snape murmured, "Take one, Potter. He'll keep offering them to you if you don't."
Harry glanced at his teacher, who looked sourly back at him and thanked Dumbledore for the candy.
The Headmaster sat back in his chair at last. "Well! Now that that's out of the way, young Harry here has a little problem. You see, Severus... well, why don't I let Harry tell you?"
Harry was given a look by his Headmaster, and turned to Snape.
"Professor Snape, sir... You see..." He licked his lips.
"Get on with it, Potter, I haven't all day," he murmured mildly, his lips twisting in the beginnings of a sneer.
"Yes, well, I have a problem." Snape arched an eyebrow again. Harry hurried on, "I'm not really a Gryffindor."
Snape snorted. "You're what? You've been a Gryffindor for two years, Potter; I'm reminded of the fact every time you're in my class. What in Merlin's name are you talking about?"
"I mean I shouldn't be in Gryffindor!" he replied, embarrassed. "When I put on the Sorting Hat in my first year, it wanted to put me in... in another house."
Snape's eyebrows shot up, and he put two and two together. "Slytherin?" he asked incredulously. He looked to Dumbledore for confirmation, who nodded, as did Harry.
Harry continued, "I'd already met Draco Malfoy on the Hogwarts Express and in Madame Malkin's. I didn't know anything about the houses, all I knew is that I didn't want to have to put up with him. So, I asked the Hat to put me in Gryffindor."
The Potions Master looked unconvinced. "You, a mere first year, influenced the Sorting Hat?" He snorted again, "Absurd."
Dumbledore intervened. "I believe it is possible, Severus. I have told you my suspicions concerning Voldemort and Harry, and I believe that perhaps he... nudged the Hat in the direction he wanted." Harry briefly wondered what else Dumbledore had told Snape, of all people, about him that he himself didn't know.
This time Severus Snape didn't object. He was considering the possibility, Harry could tell; weighing in his mind if it was feasible. Finally he spoke. "This is certainly... intriguing, Albus... But I have yet to see why you called me here, and what you expect me to do. I can only see one way to proceed."
The Headmaster leaned forward. "And what would that be, Severus?" For some reason, Harry thought he looked rather amused. Snape apparently saw this too, and frowned.
"Next year at the sorting, Mr. Potter will be called to the front again and resorted. It's never been done, but surely it's the only solution?"
Harry was surprised. He had been sure that Professor Snape would sneer at him and tell him that it was too bad that he was stuck in Gryffindor. Slytherin didn't want him, and that would be that. He looked at the other man curiously, and he was met with a level gaze betraying no emotion. Not even dislike, he noted with some satisfaction. Maybe he won't hate me as much if I'm in Slytherin?
Dumbledore, meanwhile, seemed to be considering the suggestion very carefully. "I'll have to ask Minerva about it, but I believe that it's a reasonable solution." Snape's expression clearly said, 'What other kind of solution would I give?' "I will be back soon, Severus, Harry. Do try to enjoy yourselves while I'm gone." He waved his wand and a chessboard appeared between the two on a small table, a bowl of lemon drops to one side. He stepped into the still-green flames and was gone.
Fawkes ruffled his feathers and fluttered over to the Potions Master, settling on his lap. Harry gaped when Snape began stroking its feathers gently, murmuring to it. His astonishment was apparent, and Professor Snape arched an eyebrow. "Am I not allowed to be kind, too, once in a while, Potter?" he asked softly. "I'm not a greasy old git despite what you, Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger, and probably everyone but my own House believes." He went back to stroking the phoenix.
Harry realized something about Snape then. He was human. Moreover, he was a lonely, bitter human. This was how Harry saw it: The young witches and wizards that attended Hogwarts were not the quietest, most studious teenagers in the world. If they didn't already have an interest in a course or enjoy the teacher, it was very difficult for them to actively pay attention. Potions were tedious to brew. Incredibly precise work and an exact following of instructions were required, and it was held in a dungeon. Not the most comfortable surroundings, one had to admit - it was unpleasantly cold and damp, and not well lit. Without any reasons to look forward to Potions class, students grumbled and tried to find more interesting things to do during class. Snape was a man who knew his craft absolutely. He would not beg on his knees for the students to learn a thing or two - he deserved respect, and he knew it. He didn't go out of his way to try to gain the students' affections, either - he was Head of Slytherin, who would like him? Besides, he wasn't one who seemed to crave emotional attachments, either. The only ones who already had any connection to him at all were the students in his own House. He didn't favor them; they favored him. It was so simple that he couldn't understand why he hadn't seen it before. He flushed, angry with himself for being so unfair to Snape. Now that was something Ron would about die at, he thought wryly. Them being unfair to Snape!
Suddenly, Harry decided that, from then on, he would start over with Snape. Besides, he thought, next year he might well be my Head of House, eh?
"Professor Snape..." he began.
Snape looked up at him. "Yes, Mr. Potter? What is it?" His voice was flat, and his lips had automatically begun to twist into a sneer.
"Would you like to play a game of chess?" The other's eyebrows shot up. He had not been expecting that. "I mean... Professor Dumbledore obviously put the board there for a reason." He motioned vaguely to the wizard's chess that had been set up for them.
Snape looked, for once, stunned, but he recovered quickly. "You'd ask to play a game with me, Potter? Clearly you're not thinking straight. I'm your evil, unfair, greasy Potions Master." He sneered, but Harry wasn't sure if it was at Harry or at himself.
"I know who you are," Harry said firmly. "But only part of you. In the class, where you have to be cruel and intimidating in order to get us to pay attention. I think there's more to you. Besides," he added lamely, "if you're going to be my Head of House, sir, it'd suck if I had to hate you."
For the first time in his life, Harry heard Snape laugh. A true, soft laugh, not a mocking one. A laugh! He had made the Potions Master laugh! He smiled, and scooted his chair closer to the table.
"You do realize that I'm going to kill you, Potter," Snape murmured.
It took Harry a moment to realize that he was talking about the chess game, and grinned. "You wish!" he challenged, and took a lemon drop.
When Dumbledore stepped out of the fireplace half an hour later, he was greeted by the site of his employee quietly ordering his queen to D-7. "Check mate." He sat back smugly, folding his arms across his chest.
Harry just stared. Severus Snape had just stunningly beaten him at wizard's chess, even after all of Ron's tutoring. He raised his head. "Wow, sir!" he breathed.
"'Wow' indeed, Harry," Dumbledore said seriously, "to both Severus' amazing chess skills and to you. You will be the first student ever to attend Hogwarts... and be re-sorted."
He nodded. "Thank you, Professor." He slid out of his seat. It was good to touch the floor again. He turned to Professor Snape. "Thank you for the chess game, Professor..." he hesitated. "I'm glad I got to see a nicer side of you." Snape glowered, but a tiny smile played on his lips. Harry grinned. "Don't worry, I won't tell. You have a reputation to maintain!" Happily, he popped another lemon drop into his mouth. "I have to get back to my dorm and finish packing. Thank you, Professors!" he called over his shoulder as he stepped onto the stairway and was carried out of sight.
He silently reviewed the evening in his mind as he made his way back to the Gryffindor common room. What had he discovered? Dumbledore seemed to genuinely like Harry for who he was, but the fact that he was The Boy Who Lived didn't hurt; nor did the fact that he was a Gryffindor. Supposedly. Also, Severus Snape wasn't a mean, greasy, unfeeling git. With some shock, Harry realized that he no longer hated the man. It'd be nice to be his friend, Harry thought. I want to make him laugh again. It was such a change. He smiled at the memory, and switched his train of thought. What else had he-? Oh, yes. Voldemort. He had learned so much about himself, and his connection to Lord Voldemort. That explained his Parseltongue, the pains in his scar, his powers...
Harry was still lost in thought when he ran into someone.
"Ow!"
He looked down to see a wincing Draco Malfoy glaring up at him.
"Watch where you're going, Potter!" growled Malfoy.
Harry did some quick thinking. Next year he might have to deal with Malfoy a lot more often, if his suspicions about the Sorting Hat were confirmed. Perhaps he had better start a new relationship now? He reached down and grasped the other's hand, pulling him to his feet. "I'm sorry, Malfoy. I wasn't paying attention. Are you ok?" He hesitated, "Er - Malfoy?"
The blonde was too stunned to prepare a comeback. "What-?"
"What are the Slytherins really like?"
Draco's surprise was replaced by the usual sneer, now. "We're sneaky and cruel, Potter, according to you brave, kind-hearted Gryffindor do-gooders. I don't know why you bother asking."
"They're not," Harry said quietly.
"What?"
"Gryffindors aren't all do-gooders. They're also snobby and unfair to other Houses, especially Slytherin; they break rules more often than probably any other House..." He took a breath, "And I bet Slytherin isn't as bad as everyone seems to think it is. You've got ambition and determination. Some of you are very clever. You're loyal to each other, just like Gryffindors are supposed to be, too." Malfoy was silent. "I bet a Slytherin and a Gryffindor could even be friends."
"Not likely, Potter," Malfoy muttered.
Harry smiled. "You're right, of course. Two Slytherins, then? Well, I'm off. I've got to finish packing, you know. I'll see you next year, shall I?" He waved to his so-called nemesis, who was left to make sense of the conversation, and headed for the Fat Lady.
Maris Slytherin
Harry Potter and the Re-Sorting: Chapter 2
Finally, on the last day before he was to return to the Dursleys, he had made up his mind. Telling Hermione and Ron that he wanted to discuss his classes for next year (which was, in a way, true), he walked determinedly to the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the Headmaster's office. "Lemon Drop," he told the statue, and it jumped aside. He stepped onto the spiral staircase and let it take him up to Dumbledore's door. He felt only a momentary pang of guilt for using his knowledge of the password, but guessed that Dumbledore wouldn't mind all that much. He raised his hand to rap on the door, but the Headmaster's voice called, "Come in!" before he had touched the wood. He raised an eyebrow, but opened the door and stepped inside.
The room was as he remembered it - circular, full of odds and ends. The walls were covered with portraits of old Headmasters and Headmistresses. A couple glanced at him. He noticed that only one or two of them were in Slytherin colors. On the shelf behind Dumbledore lay two objects - Godric Gryffindor's sword, once more blood-free, and the Sorting Hat. He swallowed and stepped into the room.
"Please, sit, Harry," Dumbledore smiled at him. "Would you like a lemon drop?"
"Er... no thanks," he declined. He sat down in one of the huge armchairs facing the desk. His feet didn't touch the floor, and he felt very small indeed. It didn't help him to muster his courage.
"Harry... is this about what you mentioned last time?" Dumbledore asked finally, his voice tired, but gentle.
Harry nodded. His eyes flickered to the Sorting Hat, but it lay on the shelf gathering dust. His gaze returned to the Headmaster.
"Harry. What have you been thinking about?" his voice was serious. "Are you still unsure of the decision the Sorting Hat made?"
"That's just it- it wasn't the Hat's decision. It was mine," he countered, "and an uninformed one a that! Professor, Gryffindor is fine, but I just..."
The old man in front of him sighed. "You just need to know, is that it, Mr. Potter? I understand," he massaged his temples. Harry suddenly wondered where the 'Mr. Potter' had come from. Was Dumbledore... disappointed in him? For what? Not being the perfect Gryffindor he'd expected?
"Harry? Harry, I don't know what you want me to do. I can't just switch your house because you think you'd like to be in another."
"I didn't say-" he stopped. Did he want to be in another? Wasn't Gryffindor a good place? But something in him had to know. He sighed. "I guess I don't know what I want. Does it even matter? I just need to know where I'm supposed to be."
Dumbledore seemed to have come to a decision about something. He pointed his wand at the fireplace and green flames sprang up. "Severus? Would you mind assisting me for a moment?"
Harry heard a soft voice from the flames reply, "Of course not, Albus. I'll be there in a moment." He was surprised - it had certainly been his Potions Master's voice, but where was the hatred? The sneer? The superiority? He reasoned, Snape can't be bad all the time. Dumbledore is his friend, right? Or at least, someone who he respects. I don't know if Snape has any friends. But... that was... odd. For some reason Harry felt lighter, knowing that his Potions Master wasn't all bad. It would make classes more bearable if he knew it was mostly an act.
His thoughts were interrupted as the door opened behind him. Snape, he guessed.
"Yes, Albus?" the soft voice came. Snape couldn't see him, Harry realized, the chair was too big. Not wanting to seem like he was eavesdropping, Harry leaned forward in his chair a bit, letting the teacher know he was there. Snape's eyes widened slightly, but in a moment his face was once again the cold mask that Harry and his fellow students were used to. "Mr. Potter. Headmaster, has the boy managed to get into trouble even on his last day?" Harry decided he liked Snape's other voice better. He suddenly wished he could hear it again. I guess it's reserved for people he likes, he thought to himself.
The Headmaster's eyes twinkled. "Au contraire, Professor Snape. The boy merely had a.... notion... that I thought might interest you. Come, come, Severus. We can do without the Potions Master for a moment, how about giving us the Slytherin Head of House."
Snape arched an eyebrow. His pale skin contrasted starkly with the jet- black hair that hung about his shoulders. "I'm sure I have no idea what you mean, Albus," he replied mildly. "Are you suggesting a split personality? I assure you, I haven't one."
"Perhaps two, then, Severus?" Professor Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. Snape's lips twitched, and he sat in the unoccupied chair. Harry noted with some satisfaction that the Potions Master's feet barely touched the ground. Amused, he swung his legs and looked at Snape. Snape regarded him down his nose, then turned back to Dumbledore.
"A notion, Albus? What kind of a notion, exactly? If it's about decorating my dungeon, again..." he looked most horrified at the thought. Harry's eyebrows shot up, and Snape shot him a look that clearly said "Don't ask."
Dumbledore did not seem to notice. "Really, I think it could use some homey touches. How about a couch? Maybe some nice tapestries. What do you think, Severus? Would you like a lemon drop?"
Snape had closed his eyes and looked to be biting back a reply. "Yes, thank you."
"Hm... shame, really... draperies would do a world of good down there..."
"Um... Professor?" Harry spoke up timidly.
"What? Oh, right! Harry, I'm sorry. Would you like a lemon drop?" he offered him another one.
Harry blinked.
Snape murmured, "Take one, Potter. He'll keep offering them to you if you don't."
Harry glanced at his teacher, who looked sourly back at him and thanked Dumbledore for the candy.
The Headmaster sat back in his chair at last. "Well! Now that that's out of the way, young Harry here has a little problem. You see, Severus... well, why don't I let Harry tell you?"
Harry was given a look by his Headmaster, and turned to Snape.
"Professor Snape, sir... You see..." He licked his lips.
"Get on with it, Potter, I haven't all day," he murmured mildly, his lips twisting in the beginnings of a sneer.
"Yes, well, I have a problem." Snape arched an eyebrow again. Harry hurried on, "I'm not really a Gryffindor."
Snape snorted. "You're what? You've been a Gryffindor for two years, Potter; I'm reminded of the fact every time you're in my class. What in Merlin's name are you talking about?"
"I mean I shouldn't be in Gryffindor!" he replied, embarrassed. "When I put on the Sorting Hat in my first year, it wanted to put me in... in another house."
Snape's eyebrows shot up, and he put two and two together. "Slytherin?" he asked incredulously. He looked to Dumbledore for confirmation, who nodded, as did Harry.
Harry continued, "I'd already met Draco Malfoy on the Hogwarts Express and in Madame Malkin's. I didn't know anything about the houses, all I knew is that I didn't want to have to put up with him. So, I asked the Hat to put me in Gryffindor."
The Potions Master looked unconvinced. "You, a mere first year, influenced the Sorting Hat?" He snorted again, "Absurd."
Dumbledore intervened. "I believe it is possible, Severus. I have told you my suspicions concerning Voldemort and Harry, and I believe that perhaps he... nudged the Hat in the direction he wanted." Harry briefly wondered what else Dumbledore had told Snape, of all people, about him that he himself didn't know.
This time Severus Snape didn't object. He was considering the possibility, Harry could tell; weighing in his mind if it was feasible. Finally he spoke. "This is certainly... intriguing, Albus... But I have yet to see why you called me here, and what you expect me to do. I can only see one way to proceed."
The Headmaster leaned forward. "And what would that be, Severus?" For some reason, Harry thought he looked rather amused. Snape apparently saw this too, and frowned.
"Next year at the sorting, Mr. Potter will be called to the front again and resorted. It's never been done, but surely it's the only solution?"
Harry was surprised. He had been sure that Professor Snape would sneer at him and tell him that it was too bad that he was stuck in Gryffindor. Slytherin didn't want him, and that would be that. He looked at the other man curiously, and he was met with a level gaze betraying no emotion. Not even dislike, he noted with some satisfaction. Maybe he won't hate me as much if I'm in Slytherin?
Dumbledore, meanwhile, seemed to be considering the suggestion very carefully. "I'll have to ask Minerva about it, but I believe that it's a reasonable solution." Snape's expression clearly said, 'What other kind of solution would I give?' "I will be back soon, Severus, Harry. Do try to enjoy yourselves while I'm gone." He waved his wand and a chessboard appeared between the two on a small table, a bowl of lemon drops to one side. He stepped into the still-green flames and was gone.
Fawkes ruffled his feathers and fluttered over to the Potions Master, settling on his lap. Harry gaped when Snape began stroking its feathers gently, murmuring to it. His astonishment was apparent, and Professor Snape arched an eyebrow. "Am I not allowed to be kind, too, once in a while, Potter?" he asked softly. "I'm not a greasy old git despite what you, Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger, and probably everyone but my own House believes." He went back to stroking the phoenix.
Harry realized something about Snape then. He was human. Moreover, he was a lonely, bitter human. This was how Harry saw it: The young witches and wizards that attended Hogwarts were not the quietest, most studious teenagers in the world. If they didn't already have an interest in a course or enjoy the teacher, it was very difficult for them to actively pay attention. Potions were tedious to brew. Incredibly precise work and an exact following of instructions were required, and it was held in a dungeon. Not the most comfortable surroundings, one had to admit - it was unpleasantly cold and damp, and not well lit. Without any reasons to look forward to Potions class, students grumbled and tried to find more interesting things to do during class. Snape was a man who knew his craft absolutely. He would not beg on his knees for the students to learn a thing or two - he deserved respect, and he knew it. He didn't go out of his way to try to gain the students' affections, either - he was Head of Slytherin, who would like him? Besides, he wasn't one who seemed to crave emotional attachments, either. The only ones who already had any connection to him at all were the students in his own House. He didn't favor them; they favored him. It was so simple that he couldn't understand why he hadn't seen it before. He flushed, angry with himself for being so unfair to Snape. Now that was something Ron would about die at, he thought wryly. Them being unfair to Snape!
Suddenly, Harry decided that, from then on, he would start over with Snape. Besides, he thought, next year he might well be my Head of House, eh?
"Professor Snape..." he began.
Snape looked up at him. "Yes, Mr. Potter? What is it?" His voice was flat, and his lips had automatically begun to twist into a sneer.
"Would you like to play a game of chess?" The other's eyebrows shot up. He had not been expecting that. "I mean... Professor Dumbledore obviously put the board there for a reason." He motioned vaguely to the wizard's chess that had been set up for them.
Snape looked, for once, stunned, but he recovered quickly. "You'd ask to play a game with me, Potter? Clearly you're not thinking straight. I'm your evil, unfair, greasy Potions Master." He sneered, but Harry wasn't sure if it was at Harry or at himself.
"I know who you are," Harry said firmly. "But only part of you. In the class, where you have to be cruel and intimidating in order to get us to pay attention. I think there's more to you. Besides," he added lamely, "if you're going to be my Head of House, sir, it'd suck if I had to hate you."
For the first time in his life, Harry heard Snape laugh. A true, soft laugh, not a mocking one. A laugh! He had made the Potions Master laugh! He smiled, and scooted his chair closer to the table.
"You do realize that I'm going to kill you, Potter," Snape murmured.
It took Harry a moment to realize that he was talking about the chess game, and grinned. "You wish!" he challenged, and took a lemon drop.
When Dumbledore stepped out of the fireplace half an hour later, he was greeted by the site of his employee quietly ordering his queen to D-7. "Check mate." He sat back smugly, folding his arms across his chest.
Harry just stared. Severus Snape had just stunningly beaten him at wizard's chess, even after all of Ron's tutoring. He raised his head. "Wow, sir!" he breathed.
"'Wow' indeed, Harry," Dumbledore said seriously, "to both Severus' amazing chess skills and to you. You will be the first student ever to attend Hogwarts... and be re-sorted."
He nodded. "Thank you, Professor." He slid out of his seat. It was good to touch the floor again. He turned to Professor Snape. "Thank you for the chess game, Professor..." he hesitated. "I'm glad I got to see a nicer side of you." Snape glowered, but a tiny smile played on his lips. Harry grinned. "Don't worry, I won't tell. You have a reputation to maintain!" Happily, he popped another lemon drop into his mouth. "I have to get back to my dorm and finish packing. Thank you, Professors!" he called over his shoulder as he stepped onto the stairway and was carried out of sight.
He silently reviewed the evening in his mind as he made his way back to the Gryffindor common room. What had he discovered? Dumbledore seemed to genuinely like Harry for who he was, but the fact that he was The Boy Who Lived didn't hurt; nor did the fact that he was a Gryffindor. Supposedly. Also, Severus Snape wasn't a mean, greasy, unfeeling git. With some shock, Harry realized that he no longer hated the man. It'd be nice to be his friend, Harry thought. I want to make him laugh again. It was such a change. He smiled at the memory, and switched his train of thought. What else had he-? Oh, yes. Voldemort. He had learned so much about himself, and his connection to Lord Voldemort. That explained his Parseltongue, the pains in his scar, his powers...
Harry was still lost in thought when he ran into someone.
"Ow!"
He looked down to see a wincing Draco Malfoy glaring up at him.
"Watch where you're going, Potter!" growled Malfoy.
Harry did some quick thinking. Next year he might have to deal with Malfoy a lot more often, if his suspicions about the Sorting Hat were confirmed. Perhaps he had better start a new relationship now? He reached down and grasped the other's hand, pulling him to his feet. "I'm sorry, Malfoy. I wasn't paying attention. Are you ok?" He hesitated, "Er - Malfoy?"
The blonde was too stunned to prepare a comeback. "What-?"
"What are the Slytherins really like?"
Draco's surprise was replaced by the usual sneer, now. "We're sneaky and cruel, Potter, according to you brave, kind-hearted Gryffindor do-gooders. I don't know why you bother asking."
"They're not," Harry said quietly.
"What?"
"Gryffindors aren't all do-gooders. They're also snobby and unfair to other Houses, especially Slytherin; they break rules more often than probably any other House..." He took a breath, "And I bet Slytherin isn't as bad as everyone seems to think it is. You've got ambition and determination. Some of you are very clever. You're loyal to each other, just like Gryffindors are supposed to be, too." Malfoy was silent. "I bet a Slytherin and a Gryffindor could even be friends."
"Not likely, Potter," Malfoy muttered.
Harry smiled. "You're right, of course. Two Slytherins, then? Well, I'm off. I've got to finish packing, you know. I'll see you next year, shall I?" He waved to his so-called nemesis, who was left to make sense of the conversation, and headed for the Fat Lady.