It is a truth universally acknowledged that the moment one area of your school life starts going okay, another part of it falls spectacularly to pieces. Severus found this truth to be very accurate and had been waiting for the blow to fall ever since his incredibly lucky first day at Hogwarts when he had been sorted into Slytherin just as his parents had hoped he would.
But as the week proceeded, Severus was so busy to find his way around that he rarely found time to think of his parents. Or anything else, as a matter of fact. For one thing, there were the lessons you had to attend, the homework you had to complete and the students you had to deal with - well, the latter being not usually that much of a problem. Severus avoided them and they avoided him. It was a rather satisfying agreement, he thought. Especially as the teachers seemed to have taken an incredible interest in winning their students' love for their individual subject - with all might.
Severus had long noticed that, underneath, there was some sort of contest going on among the teachers about who would be able to produce the most Herbologists, Historians, Potion brewers, and whatever you became when you mastered Transfiguration in the end. He thought that very odd, did not waste much thoughts on the matter, though, as this was clearly none of his business - and would never be.
Once or twice Severus came across Sirius Black and made a feeble attempt of greeting him, but the newly-sorted Gryffindor seemed extremely grumpy these days and did not look at him once.
'Good thing, too,' thought Severus. 'That means he has finally stopped sucking up to Slytherins.' And a warm feeling filled his stomach, reminding him that he, Severus, was one of them, and that this would never change as long as he was at Hogwarts - perhaps not even after that. He had to write home as soon as possible. He had to tell his parents. But since Professor McGonagall had advised them to put off all private activities till Friday afternoon, in the beginning at least, Severus spent his first week at Hogwarts with nothing but waiting for it to end.
Sitting in the owlery at four o'clock on Friday afternoon, trying to attach his letter to one of the smaller owls' legs (as the larger ones kept trying to bite his thumbs off), Severus had the sudden impression that, for the first time since he had arrived, his mind was actually sticking to what his hands were doing. He had written to his mother, asking how things were going - well aware that the most she would understand about this letter was that he, Severus, had sent it. And he had written to his father, telling him about the train ride (sparing the bit when a group of elder students had thrown him out of his comparment) and the Sorting. Of course the Sorting. The fact that he was in Slytherin - and that Sirius Black was not. He had not been able to restrain himself. He had put it in.
'You might be surprised,' he recalled inwardly, 'to hear that Mr. Black's son did not make it, whereas I did. I have no idea why. He seemed pretty keen to get in. But the hat decided differently. I think even some of the teachers were surprised. I, of course, got in without difficulties. The hat took almost no time -'
'You, boy!' came a sharp voice from the door and Severus jumped. 'What are you doing here?'
On the doorstep of the owlery stood a young man with long, greasy hair, uneven teeth and a huge scowl on his face. With him a pair of gleaming yellow eyes, which, Severus realized, belonged to a small and dirty cat - almost a kitten judging from its size. Both intruders were shooting suspicious looks at Severus, who let go of his owl when he had finally managed to attach the letter to her leg. This had to be the new caretaker Mr. Filch - and his cat Mrs. Norris. Severus hurried to get up, turned, and made a reluctant step towards the man, not knowing whether to be pleased or terrified of the unexpected encounter with the school's most despised couple.
'Come here,' snarled Filch. 'Into the light. I want to see you.'
Severus obeyed at an instant, his eyes fixed on the cold stone floor in front of the caretaker, who was scrutinizing him from head to toe.
'Your robes are torn,' he said disapprovingly. 'And your hair is messy. Tie it up in a ponytail like all the others.'
Severus did not see how Filch could complain about anyone's hair being messy when his own, greasy and uncempt, was hanging wildly over both shoulders, but as the ponytail was part of the school dressing code, just as black robes and long hair in general, he did as he was told.
'Sorry, sir. I thought because it's weekend, you see -'
'What are you doing up here?' asked Filch again, ignoring Severus's excuses.
'I was sending a letter to my father,' said Severus tensely, not lifting his eyes for a moment. 'But I have just finished. I was just about to leave again.'
'Who are you?' requested Filch. 'You seem - familiar.'
'Snape,' said Severus, watching the cat nibbling the caretaker's trousers in what seemed to be an affectionate way. He wondered whether she was a real cat or, perhaps, a very small Kneazle. His father had been talking about them once. They were hardly distinguishable from normal cats. To the inexpert eye, at least. But of course, Severus recalled, she could also be something entirely different. You could never be sure in the wizarding world.
'Lance Snape's son, ey?' said the caretaker in a sharp voice. 'I remember him alright. Grumpy fellow. Never a trouble-maker, but never too friendly either. You're his only son?'
'Yes, sir,' said Severus timidly, still not daring to look into the caretaker's eyes, afraid he might consider it disrespectful and put him in detention. But Mr. Filch did not seem to have any such thing in mind.
'Well then,' he said. 'Get a move on. This is no place for students to linger.'
'Yes, sir,' said Severus again, and then, giving in to a sudden daring emotion: 'She - she is very beautiful. May I stroke her?'
Filch looked puzzled at first. As if this was the most unusual question a student had ever asked him. 'Yes,' he said after a while. 'Yes, but do it quickly. We - that is Mrs. Norris and I - have work to do.'
Severus bent down and stretched his arm towards Mrs. Norris, who strolled willingly towards him, giving a soft purr as she did. He cuddled against her warm fur and stroked her tiny head, as if holding a very valuable treasure. Feeling he might as well share his thoughts he looked up, and, for the first time, his eyes met Filch's cold gaze.
'She is wonderful,' he said quietly. 'I love her.'
Filch's face assumed a strange look. 'Most students think she is ugly,' he replied. 'They can't... seem to see her true qualities.'
'I see,' nodded Severus, suddenly feeling very warm. 'Well then... I'd better be gone. See you later.'
The caretaker raised an eyebrow. 'You can be sure of that.'
Severus left the owlery somewhat happier than before and headed downstairs again. For some reason, he could relate to the caretaker Mr. Filch and his cat with her unusual name. They seemed to remind him of someone, though he could not think of who that might be.
On his way to the Slytherin comon room he came across a small group of students who were chatting and laughing, discussing loudly which of the long corridors and staircases would possibly take them to the library on the second floor. Severus hesitated for a moment, then decided that it would be interesting to discover whether the Hogwarts library was indeed as huge and interesting as his father had described it. He followed his fellow students, one of whom he had met briefly on the train, though it had not been a very pleasant encounter. Severus remembered having taken him for a second-year, because of his size and the haughtily self-confident way he spoke. His name, he recalled, was Potter. The one who had pushed him out of the compartment, giving him a bruise Severus could still feel when touching the inner side of his left forearm. He frowned at the memory.
Potter had obviously made friends with his fellow Gryffindors already. One of them, a small, mousy-haired boy with a pointed nose and very large front teeth was gaping admiringly at the tall, black-haired boy with his round spectacles and the derisive sneer on his face. The other one had his nose in a book and was obviously trying to understand what had been going on in their last Transfiguration lesson. Severus could not tell for sure, though, because there were very few subjects which the Slytherins took with students from other houses, none of which they had with the Gryffindors.
When the library came into sight, the three boys let out cheers of triumph and walked towards the entrance with increased speed. Inside, Severus saw a number of tables set up in front of what had to be thousands of shelves bearing all sorts of books - big ones, smaller ones, books with ostentatious covers and titles, and smaller ones - in black.
In the corner, almost hidden behind one of the shelves, stood a desk which seemed to belong to the librarian, who, at the moment, was systematically checking one of the shelves for missing copies. Two or three sixth formers were helping her set up a small ladder, while other students were sitting along the tables, busying themselves with books or chatting very quietly. Severus realized immediately that the library was not a room to fool around. You could either work here, or leave.
While his three unintentional guides seated themselves at a small table near the entrance doors, Severus preferred to take a stroll through the shelves first, and have a look at the immeasurable amount of books they held. The librarian took no notice of him. Nor, to his great relief, did any of the students. Severus took one of the books labelled Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charmes and, after some consideration, seated himself beside a boy called Timothy Nott, who he had been working together with once or twice in classes. Timothy looked up briefly and gave him an acknowledging nod.
'Cheers, Snape. Whassup?'
Severus nodded merely, not replying to the question, as he was well aware that Tim was not really interested. Sure enough, the boy returned to his book without waiting for an answer and Severus, for his part, opened his own. The script was tiny. He had to blink several times before finally managing to read a random sentence: "Than were they made upon a creature to purge urine, and eek for -' Bad choice. He decided to put the book onto its shelf again.
At that moment, however, the library doors opened and in came, after a moment of hesitation, Sirius Black, not wearing his derisive scowl for a change, but a look of mild interest and apprehension on his face. He was looking around for a moment and then strolled - Severus could hardly believe his eyes - towards the back of the library, looking as if he was about to sit down at the Slytherin table, right in front of Severus.
And he did.
Severus backed away, trying not to look too unpleasantly surprised about Sirius's sudden decision to join the Slytherin table instead of sitting down where Potter and his friends had positioned themselves. His fellow housemates, however, were not as polite.
'What d'you think you're doing, Sirius?' snarled one of his cousins, obviously in the mood of arguing. 'This table is reserved for Slytherins, you know.'
Ignoring her, Sirius opened his bag and took out a huge pile of parchments, which he slammed forcefully onto the table in front of him. Soe of the other Slytherins were looking up from their papers, giving him curious looks at first, then scowls, mostly.
'Yeah, get your sorry arse over there, Black,' said another first-year girl, which, Severus remembered, was called Helena Lestrange. 'We don't want you here.'
Sirius still seemed inclined to ignore their attempts to get rid of him, but Severus saw that his hands were clutched to fists under the table.
'Filthy, stinking Gryffindor,' hissed Timothy Nott so that only Sirius, Severus and a few others could hera it. 'Traitors of the bloodline. Dirty, muggle-loving scum - that's what you are.'
Severus could not help but grin. Unfortunately, at that moment Black chose to look up from his lecture. His eyes narrowed.
'I should say,' he replied, looking straight into Severus's eyes, 'even the ancient blood lines are not quite free of dirt these days.'
'Seeing you, I am inclined to agree,' retorted Timothy, while it was Severus's turn to clutch his fists. 'Now get away, or we will make you.'
Shut up, Nott,' snarled Sirius. 'A Black can sit wherever he wants.'
'Yeah, a real Black can!' said one of his other cousins (was it Viola?) loudly. 'But you don't belong to that catergory, Sirius. You are different.'
She pronounced the word 'different' as if she thought it the most despicable thing on earth and turned to her papers again. Sirius, however, had got up and approached his cousin's chair with three big steps. 'You wanna fight over it? Just give the word.'
'I should think not!' came a sharp voice from the back of the room. The librarian had finally taken notice of what was going on and approached them with a fierce look on her face. 'Mr. Black,' she said. 'Would you mind not disturbing the quiet of the library in such an uncontrolled manner? Soothe yourself and sit down!'
Sirius shot her a contemptuous look. 'No thanks,' he said. 'I think I'll finish my lecture somewhere more - comfortable.' And with this he gathered his belongings together and disappeared as abruptly as he had entered, his fists still clutched in the pockets of his robes. Severus grinned again. Suddenly deciding that his lecture was not as boring as he had thought, he made up his mind to stay in the library just for another couple of minutes, along with his precious friends and housemates.