Oh god, Professor Snape was looking in her direction. Oh god, Professor Snape was looking at her.
"These", he said, finishing his speech to the amassed first years, "will be your two fifth-year prefects, Odovacar Desjardins and Ravenna Trask. Both are exceptional students, and credits to our house, so I would strongly advise you to heed their advice and direction, or else face my… displeasure."
"Now… do we have any questions?"
When no one raised their hands, Snape vaguely gestured at the two prefects standing next to him.
"Alright, girls, follow me, and boys, follow Odovacar! We'll lead you to your communal dorm rooms, where you'll spend the next seven years of your life! I advise you get to know the girls standing next to you, because you'll be spending a lot of time with them!"
As Iris began to follow the prefect up the stairs, she was stopped by a heavy, masculine hand on her shoulder.
"Potter…" Professor Snape said, a mild sneer overtaking his face, "follow me." Without waiting for an answer, he swept out of the common room, and began to stride down the hallway.
Glancing over to her friends, who looked just as confused and worried as she did, Iris began to hurry in the direction he'd left, not wanting to disappoint her head of house. Catching up to him, she opened her mouth to ask a question, until his sharp glare convinced her otherwise.
After about five minutes of scurrying after Snape's enraged figure, though, she couldn't hold it in any longer.
"S-sir, i-if I m-may ask, wh-where are y-you t-taking m-me?"
Inwardly, Iris cursed her stutter, triggered by presence of an angry authority figure. Don't ever let them see you hurting.
Giving her another poisonous glare, Snape replied curtly, without ever breaking his stride. "We're going to the headmaster's office."
Iris waited for clarification, trying and failing to lift her gaze to meet the Snape's eyes.
He sighed, exasperated. "To get you re-sorted, child. What on earth else?"
"B-but th-the h-hat–"
He stopped suddenly, turning to face her with a thunderous expression.
"Why are you here, Ms. Potter?"
"Wh-what?"
"I said, why are you here, girl!"
Iris reared back as if struck, her face and hair turning stark-white.
"The Headmaster tells me this is some petulant scheme to get revenge on your father—presumably for not buying you a dress with a suitable number of rubies or some other such nonsense—and I will not let a Potter's foolish "pranks" plant a bully in the midst of my students! What, did you plan on not even making your brother's victims safe in their own common room?"
Iris widened her eyes, unable to even speak a word in the face of Snape's angry diatribe. She did, however, to her great pride, finally manage to meet his penetrating gaze, his black eyes twinkling as they seemed to bore straight into hers.
Snape suddenly stopped.
"You… you were not raised with your father?"
He wasn't angry anymore?
Iris let out a massive breath, no longer feeling that a large constrictor was gradually squeezing the air from her lungs.
"N-no sir, I-I was raised w-with my m-muggle Aunt Petunia."
"Petunia Evans?"
"I b-believe that was her m-maiden name, s-sir."
Somehow, Snape's scowl returned even more severe than before. Iris was about to cower once again, preparing herself for another rant, until she realized that his ire was not directed at her.
Iris took a few steps back as he stared into the middle distance, his scowl growing ever deeper, his iron grip on her hand gradually relaxed. Seemingly coming to a decision, Snape guided Iris to an empty classroom, and conjured two chairs with a short flick of his wand.
"Sit down Ms. Potter," he said, seeing her reluctance. "I only wish to converse."
Iris's fear, gradually becoming replaced by confusion at her Head of House's sudden attitude change, gently sat on the uncomfortable wooden chair he had conjured from the thin air. Suddenly, Snape began to speak, his face growing dark.
"Your father, Ms. Potter, was, and still is, a truly awful man."
"I k-know."
"'I know'? That is your response? No insults, no defenses, no angry shouting?"
"N-no. I know m-more than anyone how… awful a man James Potter is."
"And what, pray tell, are your reasons for saying that? I would think that even when raised apart from them, most young children raised in the type of… environment your Petunia must have provided hold a great deal of affection for their parents."
Snape seemed calmer now… more curious instead of angry.
"Well," she said, bitter anger swelling within her, "most children don't learn at age twelve that one of their parents is a-alive, and has a separate family that he's been happily living with all this time."
Snape just quirked an eyebrow.
"So I promise you, when you say 'James Potter is a despicable excuse for a human being', I completely agree."
"And I'm in Slytherin because I want to be," she added, "because Slytherins understand me, are kind to me. Everyone in my father's life that I met just assumes that muggles are wonderful and enlightened, and so I must have a perfect home life. Blaise, Draco, Dante, Theo… they're some of the only ones I've told who really get it."
"And yes", she said, "maybe a little bit of that is because of my father. Not to get revenge, but because I've never heard a kind word leave his mouth about Slytherins, and you in particular. Anyone that James Potter hates that much must be doing something right."
Snape just looked at her, a curious expression on his face.
Seeming to come to an internal decision, he began to speak. "It will not surprise you to learn then," he said, "that your father was no different in his school days. He was an awful bully, who ruthlessly harassed any Slytherin that caught his eye, and any Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff who he saw as 'turning dark'. He may have written off his bullying as pranks", Snape sneered at the word, "but they were nothing more than exercises in bodily pain, and abject public humiliation."
Iris grimaced at the long-simmering anger that Snape's tone held. "And you were one of the targets of these… 'pranks', sir?"
Snape scoffed mildly. "I was not one of the targets, child, I was the target."
"Wait… sir, were you 'Snivellus'? Why… why did they pick on you so much?"
Snape's expression took on a strange look, equal parts wistfulness and pain.
"I was… very good friends with your mother, Lily. We grew up together, and entered Hogwarts in the same year. I was actually the first to show her magic, when we were eight years old."
Iris stared at her Head of House intently, hanging on to every word.
"Your father… he took great exception to that. You see, being the man he was, he developed an attraction to your mother at first sight. He was convinced that I was using my… 'dark wizardry' to make Lily stay friends with me, because I was in love with her, and she didn't return my feelings. From almost the first day, he took it upon himself to viciously torment me until I would 'let up my spell'."
He continued. "Even once Lily began to become more ingratiated to the Gryffindor culture, and showed herself to be firmly integrationist in her stance, the pranks continued. Lily was friendly with everyone, especially after fourth year. She had plenty of 'dark and evil' friends, and your father despised that fact.
"Eventually, when he began to mature to a level above that of a toddler, his 'pranks' gradually dwindled, until I was left unmolested in my final year of schooling. It was then, incidentally, that your mother first began to… show interest in him, Merlin knows why."
Iris, eyes watering, barely even thought about her next words.
"Were… were you in love with her, sir? Like he claimed?"
Almost the moment those words left her mouth, Snape stiffened, and Iris gasped and began to profusely apologize. "Oh my God sir I'm so sorry I don't even know what I was thinking! That's such a per–"
Snape cut her off with a wave of his hand.
"Don't child. You have done nothing wrong. I actually believe that is the politest inquiry into Lily's and my relationship I have ever received from a Potter."
Snape let out a long sigh, mixed in with a mournful chuckle, as he stared over Iris's shoulder into the middle distance.
"Child… I don't believe that there was a single mage in all of Hogwarts who wasn't in love with your mother. The integrationists loved her because she was a brilliant and successful muggleborn, and the seclusionists loved her because she refused to judge mages by anything but their character."
"It didn't hurt", he said with a small smirk that could almost be mistaken for a forlorn smile, "that she was also incredibly beautiful, both inside and out."
"So yes, to answer your question, I was in love with your mother, very deeply and completely. In many ways still am."
Finished, Snape began to stand up, as Iris seemed to come out of a daze.
"Professor…" she hesitantly asked, "would you…would you mind terribly telling me more about my mother some time?"
Pausing, Snape considered her.
"I would… not be averse to that, Ms. Pot–… Iris. Come by my office after classes have finished for the day, and I'll tell ysou the story of how we met."
"Now," he said, exiting the room, "let us proceed to the Headmaster's office."
"What!" Iris said. "I thought that we settled that I really do want to be in Slytherin!"
"Oh yes," Snape said, with a dry voice, "we most certainly did. But it was the Headmaster who requested the re-sorting, not I."
"Why… why would the Headmaster care where I'm sorted" Iris asked, her face scrunching up. "And why does he not think I'd be right for Slytherin?"
"I assure you Iris", he said with a humorless smirk, "that the Headmaster will only rarely divulge the reasons for his actions, and even then, never to those mages which his actions affect."
"I do know, however, that ever since your brother's defeat of the Dark Lord, he has shown an… unusual interest in the affairs of your family. Your father has always idolized the man, but ever since that night, he's taken a much more active role in your family's life."
Disturbed, Iris followed him, scrambling to keep up with his brisk strides as they moved through Hogwarts's corridors. Didn't James say that Dumbledore told him she was a squib?
Iris's first impression of Dumbledore's office was… stereotypical. His window-ledge was filled with dozens of delicate silver instruments, spinning and puffing without any seeming pattern. His shelf was full of books that Iris thought were old and mysterious-looking enough to be called "tomes", and the space next to his desk was occupied by a strange, exotic creature.
In short, Dumbledore looked exactly like the depictions of wise old wizards she saw when she could sneak a quick glance at one of Dudley's morning cartoons. He even had the great silver beard and crazy-looking clothing! All he needed was Excalibur hanging on his wall, and he'd be a dead ringer for Merlin.
"Well Iris," he said, a conciliatory expression on his face, "I have to admit that once again, you manage to surprise me."
"A-again, sir?"
Dumbledore laughed. "Oh yes dear girl, the first time was when you were just a baby, when James first told me that he believed you were a squib! I was doubtful of course—squib-wizard twins are incredibly rare, after all—but he wouldn't hear of it. Why, he wouldn't even let me run a test!"
Iris gaped. That wasn't what James had said.
What was going on?
"Well, now that I think of it," he said with a slightly-vacant frown, "I suppose that was more your father surprising me than you. He was certainly full of surprises in his days as my student, that's for certain! Why, I remember this one prank he and his friends managed to pull off, it was–"
"Headmaster," Snape politely interrupted, "the reason you called her here?"
"Ah yes, yes!" he said with a clap, "I apologize my girl, but when you get to be my age your thoughts sometimes manage to get away from you! We're here today because of your little prank during the sorting."
"…prank, sir?" Iris asked, feeling a sense of foreboding.
"Yes yes dear girl, your prank! And I must say, having seen the long tradition of pranking here at school, I must say that this is most certainly one of my favorites! Forcing your sorting to a different house, just to play a joke on your father? How marvelous!"
"However," he said, eyes losing a bit of their mirth, "while I more than anyone can compliment you on a prank well-executed, I'm afraid that you might just be unaware of the consequences of your actions.
"C-consequences, s-sir?"
Oh no.
Was she going to get disciplined on her very first day?
Was there any escape from Vernon in the magical world?
"Iris," he said, eyes turning serious, "I will not be punishing you, but this is indeed a serious matter. While I'll admit that pranking and trickery may have their place in academic life"—Snape scowled—"the sorting feast is not the time for such foolishness. I don't know if you truly realize what you'd almost done, my girl, but things could have been quite awful for you in Slytherin, even dangerous, due to your family name. Not to mention, the temperament of the house would be… unsuited to one such as yourself."
"Wh-… what d-do you mean, sir?"
"Well Iris, while the Slytherin House may have many virtues"—he shot Snape a quelling look—"altruism, humility, and selflessness are most certainly not among them. And, if we are being honest with each other, which I want us to do, the majority of Slytherin house are full of the children of many dark families, that may wish to harm you based on your family name."
Iris couldn't believe what she was hearing. She knew Tonks had said that the Nics were in charge of things in society, but she couldn't believe this. How was it legal for the Headmaster of a school to be this completely, unrepentantly biased against a whole quarter of his students?
Obviously, she didn't let any of this show on her face.
"D-dark families, s-sir?"
"Yes my girl, dark families. You must understand, many of these students, especially in the higher years, may have sympathies for dark magic, or, our Lord forbid, have delved into it himself."
Dumbledore looked mournful, as his eyes began to shine with unshed tears. "It is perhaps… my greatest regret, out of the many I've accumulated over my long life, that I have not been able to save more of my precious students from the luring call of unnatural magics. During the last war, I blame myself, and only myself, for the greater recruitment Voldemort took from Slytherin house."
"I admit," he continued, looking down at his clasped hands, "I was not aware of the danger the older members of the Slytherin house possessed, as they acted as Voldemort's agents, and gradually introduced corpora of foul spells into the house commons. Indeed, because of my inaction, many of Slytherin's wizards and witches, and almost all of its creatures, delved deeply into the corrupting arts, and came out of Hogwarts filled with hatred and evil, and seeking to upend the natural order, eradicating the greater part of the human population."
Dumbledore's eyes suddenly regained their shining, earnest intensity, as he looked up at Iris. "However, I do believe that I learn from my mistakes, so I will not allow the same situation to occur here, while I have every power to prevent it."
"Iris," he said, "you must understand, you are not safe in Slytherin. Even if Slytherin was not a breeding-ground for the corruption of the dark, there would still be the issue of the children of your father's greatest political enemies being your housemates. Would you want one of them to use you as a hostage against your father?"
"N-no s-sir! I-I love my f-father, that's the l-last thing I'd want!"
Wow, Dursley-space was getting crowded.
"Excellent Iris, I had no doubt in my mind that you would understand! The twinkle returned to Dumbledore's eyes, as he shot her a beaming smile.
"Wh-what a-am I t-to d-do?" Iris asked.
Fucking stutter.
"Well my dear girl, there is only one thing to do. We must perform a re-sorting!"
"I-is that common?"
"Oh no, not at all my girl! After all, very few have the combination of pranking spirit and newness to the magical world that it takes to fool the Sorting Hat!"
With a wave of his wand, he summoned the ratty-looking pointed cap off of a high shelf.
"Now, my dear girl, all you need do is put the hat upon you head, and this time, let it do its job properly!"
Cursing the minor tremor in her hands, Iris slowly picked up the ancient-looking artifact, and placed it on her head, Dumbledore's gently-smiling face the last thing she saw.
"…"
"…hello? Mr. Hat?"
"…"
"HELLO?"
"…"
"HAT, ARE YOU TH–"
"BALDER'S BESCUMBERED BEARD, GIRL, WILL YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH."
"…what?"
"I MEAN, I can hear you just fine without you running about, flapping your jaw, screaming like you've just had your anal virginity taken by the collective forces of the Norman army! Woden's spear, wasn't you shouting your thoughts at me during the sorting enough?"
"H-hat?"
"Speaking. Now what the bloody hell is so important that you had to wake me up?"
"Did… did I do something wrong? Am I not supposed to be re-sorted?"
"RE-SORTED? No, you failed abortion, of course you aren't! You only get one sorting! I know that most of you brats are stupider that the drool dribbling from the chin of your senile mud-loving shit of a headmaster, but I figured you'd all be able to count to one! It's very simple: ONE!"
"I think… wait, 'mud-loving' Hat, you're a Rell?"
"Of course I'm a seclusionist you little piss-stain, I'm from the 10th century! We were alive for the Clænsung Egan-Griman Æþelstanes, EVERYONE was a bloody seclusionist! The first time Godric wore me to a muddy town, he stabbed another mage to death for trying to pay his bar-tab in galleons! I once saw all four founders behead a Jesus-mad blood-traitor that tried to burn half the library; they did it right in the middle of the Great Hall!"
"Wow, uh… that's interesting. Is that why you're so…"
"What, angry, mean, cruel? No, I'm that way because thanks to Godric, I've spent the past THOUSAND YEARS shuffling through the heads of a bunch of debilitatingly-horny twelve-year-olds! The only other thing I even get up to is belting out whatever lyrical placenta of a song the Headmaster writes for me! Do you have any idea how bloody BORING that is?"
"I used to be happy you know, I was made as a battle aid for Godric, able to predict the moves of his enemies! He and I rode around all across the land, seeing all sorts of incredible fighting! We went from one end of the earth to the other back then, but now? Nope! Now all I have to see is the office of this self-flagellating chastity belt you call a Headmaster!"
"U-um…"
"Do you know what the average frumbyrdlingas that I've spent that past millennia sorting think about? Sex! that's it! All they want to do is stroke their little cocks until they can shoot off all over the nearest mage, beast, or vaguely hole-shaped pile of masonry that they see! I've must hear fifty times more comments about which professor has the sharpest jawline than about which has the sharpest wit!"
"I've spent the last millennia listening to you meocliðe little fetuses worry about which particular brood of flesh-bags you're allowed to shoot your sperm inside! 'Oh Mr. Sorting Hat, thank you so much for putting me in Gryffindor, I'll make sure to suck my Head of House's cock in your honor!' 'Oh, Mr. Sorting Hat, you have to place me in Ravenclaw like my parents, because I haven't had a single original thought in my head since I pawed mother's tits!' I can't fucking STAND it!"
"I'm not even allowed to say anythinag to you little empty-headed, unoriginal cretins! It's all 'hmm, interesting', and 'oh, I see', they made me sound like a bloody Dryad! Speaking of, stop peeping in on me, you oversized wooden dildo, or I'll snap the only wand you can't replace! Of course I don't, do you even have eyes in your pollen-dumpster of a head?"
"Uh…"
"I swear, the minute that bloody etiquette ritual wears off, I'm done digging through the shriveled balls of cum and earwax you all pass off as brains. I'll make sure to give a very special sorting song then; I've had a thousand years to think of how to rhyme things with 'sodomy'!"
"…Ok? Does… Does that mean you won't re-sort me?"
"Of course it does, you thick-brained little cunt! You're still in Slytherin: go back to your common room and rut with those Zabini brats, give a whole new meaning to pillow-biter! You want a re-sorting, I'll tell you where I'd sort you, right into–"
Feeling that she had her answer, Iris yanked the brim of the hat from her forehead. She moved to hand it over to the headmaster, but paused in shock as the hat opened its brim and began to speak aloud.
"My esteemed Headmaster Dumbledore, I apologize humbly, but it is not within the bounds of my nature to perform a re-sorting. The founders themselves created me partially out of the true wood of a Dryad, so that I might sort perfectly every time, and so thought there to be no need for any pointless repetitions."
Iris stared at the hat wide-eyed, barely able to hold her jaw shut. Hopefully, Dumbledore would mistake her reaction as shock at being 'kept' in Slytherin. What the fuck had the Founders done to the vulgar piece of headwear?
"To the lovely Ms. Iris Potter, I do apologize, but I cannot at this moment acquiesce to your desires. Alas, I am a mere crafted object, and so must obey the limits imposed on me by the nature of the ritual of my–"
"Thank you greatly Hat, that is all we require! We appreciate all you've done for us today. May your rest be peaceful until the next time you are called upon." Dumbledore swiftly levitated the hat off of Iris's head, and back onto the dusty shelf where it spent most of the year.
Turning back to Iris, Dumbledore frowned, eyes twinkling again, and then let out a great, heaving sigh.
"Well Iris, it seems that in this case, I cannot save you from the consequences of your follies."
"I-I'm really sorry sir, I c-can't believe that I have to s-stay in S-Slytherin!"
Dursley-space was getting really crowded.
"Yes, I too am disappointed. However, do not worry, I am still just as intent as making sure you remain coming out of Slytherin House as you were when you entered it. As long as I am Headmaster in these esteemed halls, my girl, I promise that corruption shall not touch you."
Iris let out a relived sigh, and then nodded.
Maybe she should rename it 'Dursley-land' instead?
"I only ask that you think more carefully in the future before you perform any more ill-timed pranks or jokes. Remember Iris, every action we take has consequences, and it is our solemn duty as children of the light to keep in mind the effects our actions could possibly have in the future, on both others and ourselves."
"I-I will s-sir, I-I p-promise!"
"Thank you, my dear girl, you do my old heart well. Severus, would you please escort Iris back to the G– Slytherin common room?"
Snape nodded, and began swiftly walking down the stairs, not even waiting for Iris to follow.
"And Iris?" Dumbledore said, as she stood up to follow him. "I believe that if you wish to rectify your actions, you could do so by coming to my aid in this quest to purify Slytherin. I, along with dozens of generations of Slytherin alumna, would be greatly thankful if you'd report to me any dark objects or texts you may see bandied about the common room, and inform me of any sudden increases in rage or cruelty in your peers."
"D-don't worry sir," Iris said, exiting the office, "I'll b-be sure to keep wary of anything o-odd or suspicious I s-see. You can c-count on me sir!"
Hey, at least she'd been able to slip that one in!
Swiftly, she almost ran down the stairs, and joined Snape where he stood outside the gargoyle. Together they marched back to the Slytherin dorms in silence, both thinking on the Headmaster's words.
After his martyr had left to follow Severus, Albus's genial smile dropped, and he began angrily pacing the length of his office. He didn't know what to be more infuriated at, the blasted restriction on the Sorting Hat, or that the girl had chosen now of all times to throw her tantrum! Satan's temptation, this couldn't have come at a worse time!
No, it wouldn't do any good at all to fume and bluster: it wasn't good for his plans, nor his state of mind. Breathing out slowly, he attempted to regain his mental equanimity, knowing that he'd have to approach the problem with a clear head. After a few minutes, he felt sufficiently at peace, and so he began to analyze the situation.
James's reports had said nothing of this level of brattish petulance, but he now believed he understood why. He had been foolish when he accepted James's words at face value, it was the fault of all parents to overlook the worst traits of their children. Angels above, that was the only reason that his mother could have ignored the dark rage and unnatural desires which had ensnared his younger self, and leave him to live in sin with Gellert!
Yes, the martyr's attempt to lash out at her father had left him in a troublesome situation, but not nearly an insurmountable one. There were a scant few children of light families in Slytherin after all—heaven knows how—and he could enlist one, or better yet all of them to steer her in the right direction. Whoever her lighter peers didn't influence her away from, Severus could take care of: he was oath-bound to protect her interests, after all.
Even though her sorting had initially worried him, he could see that his efforts at ensuring a proper childhood had not gone to waste. He clearly saw, both in her mind and the real world, that she was submissive to earthly authorities, and her decision to emulate James by playing a prank—despite the fact that James himself was the target—showed a deep need to connect with him, and a craving for his praise and acceptance.
As Albus thought, his face evened out to a more neutral expression. While he knew this might be a minor problem, his general plans were going exactly as they should be. All he needed to do was ensure that Danny would ignore his moral compass when it came to his sister's mistaken placement, and forge a deeper connection with her. Perhaps he could even arrange a love interest to tie her even more strongly to the light? Perhaps the Weasley boy?
No, Albus thought, he wouldn't do that to one of the sons of the light. He was sure that Iris would make an excellent wife—humility was not only an ideal trait for martyrs, but for homemakers as well—but he would not burden any husband or children with the weight of her destiny. Iris was fated to die for the sins of the wizarding world, and he would not allow her to form a relationship, knowing that it would only end in the pain of loss.
Sitting back in his chair, relaxed, Albus began to further plan Iris's future at Hogwarts. He knew someone as meek as her would never seek out the third-floor corridor on her own, so he needed to give her a little push.
Albus didn't know how Tom's twisted, broken spirit would manage to enter his school, but he knew that no matter how it did, he would be ready, and one way or another, Iris Potter would meet her final destiny.
AN: Ok yeah, the Sorting Hat is probably my favorite character to write, bar none. I can't promise he'll make a reappearance, but I'll do my very best.
—
The title for this chapter also comes from the Book of Matthew: "You brood of vipers, how can you who are evil say anything good? For the mouth speaks what the heart is full of!"
This mention of snakes, unlike the one which gave the last chapter, is much more in line with the rest of the Christian Bible, making snakes untrustworthy, deceitful, and evil.
—
Fanfic Rec is Fantastic Elves and Where to Find Them by evansentranced, one of my all-time favorite crack-fics.
—
If you're wondering why Dumbledore didn't learn about Iris's serious doubts about his political position, it's due to two things:
One, he was only doing a surface scan, so he could only see basic emotions, feelings, and reactions, and not concrete memories.
Two, Iris has a long tradition of shoving her emotions down into "Dursley-space", which would let her more "scandalous" emotions mostly avoid the cursory surface scans Dumbledore is performing.
Of course, Iris wouldn't have any defense against a more active attempt to read her mind, but that would require that Dumbledore cast the Legilimens spell at her, which would be a very obvious red flag that something was up.
—
If you're wondering, you can google the Anglo-Saxon words the Hat uses. The only one I had to create and conjugate on my own was one of the periodic muggle persecutions of mages in my universe, the "Clænsung Egan-Griman Æþelstanes". It means something like "Athelstan's Cleansing of the Witches" in Modern English, and refers to the famous English King Æthelstan, who reigned a few decades before Hogwarts's founding date and led a series of persecutions on "witchcraft".
Eges-Grimme (Gen. Egan-Grimman) is a derogatory term for mages that has no equivalent in English, literally meaning "frightful masks", referring to the idea that mages concealed their evil underneath a "mask" of humanity.
