Chapter 44: Tenets of Slytherin

Tenets of Slytherin

Sage stiffened his glare, hoping that he could get the man to retreat back to his ship on the grounds, knowing that he could not keep the spell up much longer. Karkaroff's cold eyes stared back at him, his mouth curled upwards, looking much more fierce than he really was.

Sage took another step forward, his black robes floating along behind him. His sneer was worthy of a Snape.

"Perhaps I should suggest that you return from whence you came. Back to the safety of your ship. My uncle will not talk to you anyway, since you seemed to be going from where I came. After what you have done, you are lucky he doesn't curse you to oblivion and use you as a Potions ingredient."

His words hung in the air. He narrowed his eyes even more.

Karkaroff glared a him for a brief moment before turning away, bested by a bluffing sixteen year old.

Sage sighed and then leaned against the wall. He did not exert as much effort as he had on Malfoy, but he was definitely feeling light-headed. For a brief moment, he contemplated going back to his uncle in case he got worse. He decided against it. His uncle would not be in the mood to deal with him, and he was sure that if he made it to his bed he would be fine.

As Sage walked away, Severus walked up the last few stairs and watched him walk to Gryffindor. He too leaned against the wall but more because he was deep in thought. Sage might have been initially fueled by his hatred of Karkaroff, but it had become apparent that Sage was a good actor as well. Severus was certain that Karkaroff would now be doubting whether Severus really had turned sides.

Severus smirked. When the Mark turns black again, you are going to be hunted down, tortured, and killed. Sage had certainly been successful at letting Karkaroff know where his 'loyalties' were. His look got even more darkly satisfied as he leaned against the wall. The Dark Lord would be pleased, pleased with what I could do with you. Suddenly he face was overcome by a frown, and it certainly turned grave. The game was on again.

He turned to go back to his potions. It was a game that he was a master at, but this time he would not be alone.

Sage flopped down onto his bed and turned onto his back. He appraised the ceiling and allowed everything else to drown out as he thought. His mind wandered, but not to what had been plaguing his mind for months. It wandered to his uncle. Would Severus be angry for what he had done with Karkaroff? It was very certain that he would have to tell him.

Would he be able to figure out what line the man wanted him to write?

Before long the headache he knew would come, did come. Too much magic, for sure. Not that Karkaroff was as strong as Lucius Malfoy, because that was simply not true, but he had to hold the spell longer on Karkaroff and it took its toll. He rolled over onto his side.

Well at least I can do wandless magic now. Still can't do what I used to be able to do, or as much as I used to be able to do. I could have held that spell for Merlin knows how long before. I could have gone hours doing wandless magic. Now a few minutes and I'm done for.

Perhaps directing it at someone else takes more exertion? That must be it. I have not done much practice using wandless magic on someone else, even before all of this.

He stared at his hand and rolled the gauze off of it carefully. He fingered the cuts gingerly, tracing the words. They were deep, he mused, very deep. They'd be deeper tomorrow too. He brought it up to his face, a strange fascination with it. Upon such close examination he would see the sinuey muscle in some places where the cuts bore down deepest. He tightened his hand into a fist and watched the cuts open up even more. Pain travelled up his arm, but it was nothing. He told himself that. His visions were more painful; unfathomably much more so painful. This was a tickle of pain by comparison; a pain like an itch one couldn't scratch.

It does not hurt so much. Only the emotion makes it painful. There is no pain without emotion, it is one who wallows in it that feels it the most. It is true, focus on pain, and it will seem unbearable, but focus elsewhere and it fades. That is why the strong feel little pain. It is only a matter of the mind.

The skin around the cuts had turned a sickening shade of blue and deep brown, that he could see through the blood that had gathered on his hand once more. There were places where the skin was sticking out and not lying flat on his hand. It was there that the cuts were deepest. Before long the sleeve of his dark green shirt was bloody on the cuffs. He was sure it was on his robes as well, but black was very good for hiding blood.

He abandoned examining the cuts and wrapped the hand back up. He rolled back over onto his back.

Before too long, he was asleep, his body weary from using wandless magic.

In an instant he opened his eyes to darkness all around him. His eyes adjusted and he began to see black figures forming a circle. He edged closer, smelling the uncertainty and the fear in the air. His eyes fixated on the tall, thin man stalking around the inside of the circle, looking at each figure carefully. Words were spoken, but his ears heard none of it.

Suddenly another loud crack filled the air as someone apparated right by where Sage was standing. The figure walked into a large space in the circle, where the thin man smiled wickedly, his red eyes blazing with murderous humor.

The figure bowed its head slightly, answering, talking, but Sage couldn't hear. He moved ever closer, some instinct telling him that no one could see him. The words suddenly drifted to his ears.

"Severus. Old habits again, my friend, bring you back here. As always you are late."

"I got away from that old fool as fast as possible to answer you my lord, but under the circumstances there were hundreds of people watching."

"Ahh yes, Severus. But one wonders why you came back at all, surely you know what awaits you here, Severus. You were unfaithful."

The voices faded slightly and Sage could hear nothing, no matter how hard he tried.

In an instant his uncle was on the ground, no doubt under the Cruciatus Curse. Sage surged forward out of instinct, to try and help even though he could not. Falling to the ground besides his flailing uncle he tried to grab onto him or hold him or speak to him, but he could not. He turned and looked up at the man behind it all, Voldemort. His slitted nose was flaring in excitement and satisfaction. His thin, almost non-existant lips, were twisted into a maniacal smile. Sage jumped up at him and tried everything he could to stop him, yelling, screaming, hitting.

Before long, he fell back onto the ground beside his uncle who was fighting the curse with everything he had, not yet screaming under its effects, but his face was contorted in agony. So contorted that it no longer was recognizable to Sage.

Sage felt tears streaming down his own face and he gave in to his desire to scream. And for minutes all he saw was the face of his uncle, knowing that he was going to die. And for even longer all he heard was the sound of his own screaming. He saw the green light flash and watched everything go still.

With a jerk, he felt himself drop somewhere else.

He opened his eyes. He was in the Great Hall of Hogwarts. Suddenly fuzzy people came into view. One he could pick out as Voldemort, almost more because of the sensation of fear he picked up from around him. There were many people, people he could not see, no matter how hard he tried.

Within seconds of him opening his eyes a blasting blue light engulfed everything. There were no sounds, just sights and colors and unrecognizable people.

One figure, just one, came into view. A black robed, black haired person, tall, at least tall enough to be his uncle. He was at the center of this large, engulfing, light.

With a crack, the only sound during the entire sight, the blue light disappeared. The black clad figure fell, in slow motion, onto the ground like a rag doll. Its back hit first, then his head bounced off the stone like a rubber ball. With sick precision his arm hung in the air for a moment before falling to the ground as well, curling through the air, ending with its palm in the air with its fingers slightly curled.

Sage approached the figure, his stomach boiling. Confusion struck him as he took in the face. It was his father, or could it have been? He stared at the face. Could it be him?

Sage jolted upright in his bed, beads of sweat falling from his face. He felt so wet that he felt as if he had just been heavily rained upon. He pulled in air as fast as he could, taking deep, frequent breaths. Another dream, another prophetic dream, but this time he could remember it. His chest tightened. What did the second one mean? He could have sworn it was his father, but his father was already dead.

Sage was just about ready to get up and exit the Potions classroom, when a long fingered hand grabbed him by the shoulder. He didn't jump, he just turned around and looked up at his uncle. He could also feel Hermione's eyes on him briefly, before she left. Was that concern on her face?

His thoughts returned back to his uncle. The man's was rather difficult to read. Sage stood up and faced him, leaning against the table that had been in front of him. Sage continued to search the man's eyes. Once everyone had left the room, Severus clapped a hand lightly on the side of Sage's neck.

"Come, let's talk," he said darkly.

Sage followed him out of the classroom.

"Something very curious happened last night after you left."

Sage raised an eyebrow, a knot forming in his stomach, "It did, did it, Uncle?"

Severus held the door open for him and then followed him into the dimly lit living room. Sage let his bag fall to the floor next to the sofa.

"I had a sense that I should follow you last night."

Sitting down on the sofa, Sage stared up at Severus. "You saw, sir?"

"Yes. I saw."

Sage pushed his hair away from his face, the knot in his stomach twisting around. Unconsciously he hid his bandaged hand under the other hand protectively.

"Do you remember what I told you over the summer?"

"Yes sir, I remember."

Severus uncrossed his arms and sat down in the chair to the right of Sage. "That we must keep up appearances?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well done, then." Severus said calmly. "I heard what you said. How you relied on your wits since you magic has been…uncooperative."

Sage's head jolted back up. "Sir?"

Severus stood up and snorted, "Don't tempt you indeed." He recited Sage's words with amusement and that had to be a first.

Sage blanched, in too much shock that his uncle was more pleased than Sage could recall him being recently. The knot in his stomach dissipated. His mouth hung slightly open.

"I am impressed that when you could not best him by using your powers, you bested him by using your brain. Merlin knows what he was up to."

"He was headed in your direction, sir. Or the classroom or storeroom…"

"Ahh, yes, where I would have cursed him into oblivion before using him in one of my potions."

Sage felt the smug look coming over his features. He had finally done something right. His uncle was…was he truly…smirking?

"Quite a nice bit of acting, perhaps there is still hope for you."

"It wasn't all acting, sir. He tried to send you to Azkaban. I hate him, but not because he was a bad Death Eater, because he was weak. Because of what he tried to do to you."

Severus stared hard at Sage, the smirk still on his lips, "Yes, being weak when one could be strong is a failure to oneself."

Sage nodded, "He fails everything because of weakness."

"Very perceptive. Very Slytherin of you. There is hope that a year and a half in Gryffindor will not ruin some nine years of my work with you."

"No sir, there's not just hope. I've certainly not turned into Harry Potter, and I won't. I much prefer realism to idealism."

Severus turned on him, "Well here's a bit of realism for you. I'd start doing your homework, because pleased with your conduct or not you will still be otherwise occupied tonight."

"Yes, sir."

Things were definitely changing, changing for the better. He smiled slightly and opened his bag. Then he just stopped, staring down at the bag. He frowned and then sat back on the couch. Moments passed as he thought deeply, a blank look on his face. Then, he grinned to himself. He had finally figured it out. He stared at his hand and balled it into a fist, feeling an odd pleasure at the twinge there. He knew what it was he had to write that night. In hindsight it all became rather obvious.

With his mind clearer than it had been in a few days, he opened his Ancient Runes book and started to read to pass the time.

Severus stared at Sage, having a good feeling that the boy had finally figured it out. He had, after all, given Sage quite a large hint. Keeping his face steely, he handed over the quill in what had become a ritual for the past two nights, this being the third.

He was still a bit taken by what Sage had done the night before, or rather what he had said. The boy's sarcasm and biting words had definitely not come from the Malfoy side of the family, Draco's gift in that area had been mere fluke. Lucius was rather at a loss in a verbal skirmish, at least when compared to himself. No, Sage had definitely been gifted in that area.

Now the boy was taking bites off Karkaroff and Moody, something that Severus could applaud, behind the back of Dumbledore of course. There were certain things that the Headmaster did not understand. Anything remotely Slytherin was certainly out of the realm of Dumbledore's understanding. Perhaps Sage really had listened to what Severus had told him over the summer and the boy had just needed time. His nephew now seemed to be making a genuine effort to keep up appearances. He also was not letting anyone walk all over him that should not be allowed to do so. Moody and Karkaroff fit this category as far as Severus was concerned. They were his enemies, so it was perfectly fine for Sage to treat them as his own enemies.

Severus smirked, when the Headmaster had insisted that Sage not get sorted into Slytherin, Severus had been rather objectionable. Dumbledore did not want Sage to spend his first years making friends with those who could influence him in a bad direction. What Dumbledore had not known, and Severus had known, was that Sage was not easily influenced. Sage, of course, had told him about the hat deliberating where Sage belonged, but really the hat had only one choice: Gryffindor. He had told Sage why he ended up there. It was because the older man felt that Sage would be better off not in Slytherin, and he also felt that Sage would do well to get to know his Gryffindor cousin, Prince Potter. It had been the first fixed sorting in Hogwarts history and illustrated Dumbledore's own prejudices. Apparently the hat had not been very willing to allow Sage to go where it had been told to put Sage, because it took long enough deciding. There was no doubt that Sage belonged in Slytherin to Severus, not now certainly.

The only Gryffindor quality that Sage had was courage, and even that was not so much a Gryffindor quality, because it was courage minus stupidity. Perhaps the rule-breaking Gryffindors had not turned his nephew into an uncontrolled, cheeky, disrespectful dolt. The Slytherin in him was definitely coming out, and how could Severus not be pleased with that? How could he not encourage that?

Severus snorted, there was a Slytherin in Gryffindor, how very ironic, and his nephew at that. Perhaps if Potter was not influencing Sage, Sage was influencing Potter. That would be ideal, but not very likely. He had seen the way the Potter boy had stared suspiciously after his nephew and Malfoy. In fact, he had frequently seen Potter direct the same accusing glance at Sage as Potter directed at the actual Slytherins. He shook his head in dark amusement and then returned to his reading.

Sage has bitten down on the inside of the corner of his lip to dull the discomfort in his hand so much, that he could taste the blood in his mouth as he wrote. He had been doing this for three nights now.

Tonight, however, he scratched along with an odd fury, because he knew that he finally had it. With his free hand, he brushed his black hair out of his face. He focused upon the warmth of his hand, instead of the pain. The warmth of the blood was a strange sensation and one that was easy to concentrate on. As he wrote, he felt that he was in some way living up to what he was writing, and he felt rather smug about that. He had forgotten how it felt to do something difficult and do it right. It was gratifying. It was driving.

He was so close to freeing himself that he could taste it in the salty blood in his mouth. He was a Magi, and he would not let something beat him into a shadow of what he could be. If Death was there it was best to at least kick it in the teeth first.

His heart was beating so fast with all the exertion he was putting into his thoughts and into keeping the pain dormant. There was excitement mixed in. He wanted to be finished, he wanted to show his uncle that he had thought about what had been happening, what he had done to himself. Moreover, he was not going to be afraid or an inevitable death anymore, even if it was coming too soon. His father had not been afraid of death, he had stood up to it, as had his uncle. He could and would do his best to do the same.

Severus looked up when heard the knock on the door. He smiled to himself before saying a gruff, "Come in." He raised an eyebrow with critical curiosity as Sage walked in, shutting the thick wooden door behind him.

He did not even need to see what he had written. Instead he hid his slight satisfaction and waved his hand for his nephew to come closer.

With chilly silence, he eyed the hand to see exactly how Sage had phrased what he had wanted him to write.

"I am strong, and I will not fail myself."

Severus looked up decisively and saw that his nephew was trying to make his face blank. Sage had stumbled onto a measure of the strength he would need. Now, as Dumbledore put it, he would need to find his purpose. Whatever that meant.

Severus stood up and stared down into those soft blue eyes. He crossed his arms and cleared his throat.

"Well, now that you've finished that, you can start being useful." He reached down and took a piece of parchment off the desk and handed it to the boy. "You can start by making me these for my second and third year classes tomorrow."

Sage took the paper with his unmangled hand. Severus stared hard for another moment, keeping his nephew's eyes locked. It was a test, and Sage didn't look in the least bit disturbed at being given another menial task. He was gaining his control back.

Without a word, Severus reached into his pocket and pulled out a small jar. His nephew raised an eyebrow at him as he held it out.

Sage took it and turned it around in his bad hand, "Sir?"

Severus walked back behind his desk and said haughtily, "You cannot brew a potion with one hand, I presume. I do not wish to explain all matter of disfigured students if your antidotes do not work. After all, we both know how far your expertise in potion making goes. That should make things manageable for tonight, you can return it to me before you leave."

"Yes, sir."'

Snape sat down and picked up his book before saying, "Perhaps I shall even allow you to keep it," as Sage was exiting the room.

In the following days, it seemed more difficult than anything else for Sage to just keep on going forward. There were very few things that he had wanted to accomplish right away and pleasing his uncle was smack on the top of the list. In fact, working towards that goal was the only thing that kept Sage from feeling incredibly guilty for the way the first half of the school year had gone. Severus had reminded him of the things that he wished Sage to do, and Sage had no time to think about anything else if he was to accomplish those.

This morning had already been no different. After waking up at six to practice some of the meditational skills Sarmach had taught him in order to help him focus, he had gone on to eat breakfast. With a full stomach and a much clearer head, he read for his classes, especially Potions. His uncle had developed a new sport of quizzing and criticizing him in the middle of class if he did not know exactly, perfectly what he was doing. Apparently Potter was getting a reprieve.

As he walked down the empty stone stairwell that led to the Slytherin common room and the dungeons, he tried to steel himself a bit. He had the clearly bad habit of laughing at the first years' Potion mistakes. Severus had told him that if he deigned to laugh in any one of the classes he now assisted with, he would truly give him something that would 'stop the laughter once and for all'. His purpose in being there was to help intimidate them into behaving properly and to make sure that less cauldrons were melted or blown up. Laughing at their stupidity could hardly accomplish that task.

He had to admit, it wasn't necessarily in his character to get up in the faces of little kids and make them cry or worse. Eleven-year-olds did have difficulties controlling their bladders. Sighing, he dropped down the last step, pursing his lips together and trying not to laugh at that mental picture. The fact that it was not in his nature to do frighten children, was likely the reason his uncle had insisted upon him doing it. Being calm, confident, and intimidating would be good skills for the future.

Drumming a hand on the cold, stone wall as he walked towards the classroom, he noticed that the Slytherins were clamoring out of the common room, heading off to classes that were on the other side of that castle. It was still half and hour before the bell. He pushed through a horde of second or third years who were much smaller than him, passed the door to their common room and was finally released from the masses. He was just about to turn the corner when a loud "Snape!" turned him around.

He raised an eyebrow as Malfoy sauntered up to him, surprising without his two goons. The young man inclined his head in greeting.

"Do you have a minute to talk?"

Cocking his head slightly and narrowing his eyes at Draco, he answered, "I suppose so."

"The common room is pretty empty, is there all right with you."

"Are you sure that this isn't some cleverly alligned plan to coax a Gryffindor into your den, Malfoy?" He asked with good humor.

Draco snorted and then laughed.

"First of all, you are no true Gryffindor. Any Slytherin could have figured that Dumbledore engineered that sort, because we all know he wouldn't want a Magi to be under the influence of Slytherins-."

"Completely ignoring the fact that I was raised and taught by one," Sage put in, interrupting.

"Nobody ever said that Dumbledore was the straightest wand in Ollivanders. How he ignored that… Second, you are a Snape, and Professor Snape is our Head of House. Do you think that any Slytherin in his right mind would assault the nephew of our Head?"

"Well then, I suppose I am safe," he answered, a slight smirk playing on his face.

The common room was indeed empty, and Sage had to wonder if Draco had engineered that. He pushed the thought aside and sat down on a black leather couch across from his cousin.

Strangely, Draco now looked uncomfortable, as if he were unsure how to proceed.

"Well?" Sage asked, encouraging him.

Draco opened his mouth to speak, but closed it and composed himself first. He pursed his lips together. After a few moments of staring at Sage, he finally said what he wanted to say.

"I just wanted to make sure that you were all right, I mean, it was rather all over the school about what happened. No Gryffindor knows when to keep his or her mouth shut. Had you been in Slytherin that never would have been a problem, we are used to keeping such matters in house," he rambled out, very quickly.

Sage pulled his head back in surprise.

"I'm fine, Draco, although I must admit a bit shocked that you would ask."

"You mean care," the blond stated flatly.

"We have never been that close." Sage knew that would be a safer answer.

Draco leaned closer to him, his grey eyes very serious.

"A true Slytherin never forgets a service done to him and never forgets a friend or an enemy. I have not forgotten. In fact, I found the experience rather enlightening. In taking inventory of my life, I have realized that I feel safer and more welcome here than I do in my own home. I also realized that is due to your uncle and now perhaps you as well."

Sage's eyes were as wide as they could go. Draco's frankness surprised him.

"In a way you are more of a family than I've had. You did not have to do what you did, but you did it anyway, despite how I acted towards you in the days earlier. I realized then that I would not have done the same thing in your situation. I would have smiled and kept walking, knowing that a person who had gone against me was getting what he deserved. That made me feel very dishonorable."

"I think you are making it into much more than it was, Draco."

"And you are modest. However, that is not the point. I just wanted to return the favor, best I can at this point, and make sure that you were all right."

"Like I said, I'm all right. Nothing I cannot handle."

"Everyone says that," Draco said. "What happened anyway?"

Sage glared at him.

"You don't need to tell me if you don't want."

"Best I can figure, one of the Gryffindors hung me out to dry by telling my uncle that I was smoking pot, because I doubt he could have found it in my room on his own."

Draco sat back, stunned at that revelation. "Aww, that's wicked bad, you got off easy then." The blond inadvertently shuddered, pressing his eyes together.

"Physically, maybe, but the Gryffindors have not been able to spill out to the rest of the school all the other things he made me do since I am on restriction. Restriction from life," he added the last bit as something of a joke, but it was also somewhat true.

"Yeah, I would imagine the professor is like that. When you don't use magic in your punishments, you have to be more inventive. Getting hit just isn't all that painful unless it goes on for hours on end. I don't expect that he's like that or else he would never have helped me any of those times…"

Draco said that with too much familiarity for Sage's taste. His blond cousin was much more familiar with those things than he was but the severity sickened him.

"How many times," Sage blurted out before he could stop himself. He was not sure he really wanted to know what would have been in store for him if the Malfoy side of the family had decided to keep him, instead of the Snape side.

"Loads," the blond said easily, "We can't just go to the hospital wing with that you know, Pomfrey would interrogate us before she would help us and then she would tell Dumbledore. Worse yet, it would get back to our families and we'd get it worse the next time we went home."

"I never thought about it that deeply, I suppose."

"You are lucky that you do not have to. That is why I asked if you were okay, if you can't go to your uncle, and you can't go to the medi-witch, you have to know who you can come to."

"I'll remember that, and this." Sage answered, nodding slowly. "Draco… I like you much better in here than I do out there."

Draco Malfoy smiled a very honest smile, "You do not betray who you really are to just anybody, Sage. We have a reputation to keep up out there and we cannot make ourselves easy prey to the other houses. The three of them would come after us a lot more."

Sage left the Slytherin dorms feeling a mixture of things. Part of him wished that he was not masquerading as a Gryffindor, because he was learning a lot about the Slytherin house that he liked or even longed for. He also felt angry with Dumbledore for putting him in that situation in the first place. Had he been in Slytherin all along, things might have been very different for him. Perhaps Draco Malfoy could have been a friend like Sage needed, a friend with a sense of reality and maturity. Draco could be quite mature when he was decided upon it. Another part of him felt sympathy for Draco and the others. They were nothing like they were rumored to be. Not that Sage had bought the rumors in his first place.

He sucked in a deep breath and forced those thoughts out of his mind. He had another task that he needed to concentrate on now. As he walked into the Potions classroom, he nodded at his uncle.

The man looked at his watch and raised an eyebrow. "I was beginning to wonder if you were going to make an appearance," he stated flatly.

"Sorry sir, Malfoy stopped me in the hall. He had some things to say that I am sure you will be interested to hear later."

"All I am interested to hear right now is that you sufficiently prepared last night or this morning for being here so that my classroom does not get blown up."

"Yes, sir."

"Fine then. With this potion, what are the things you need to watch for?"

Sage leaned against the lab table behind him. "Anyone mistaking powdered Mimbus Hazedonia with Mimbus Hacadinia, because the latter will inflate the temperature of the potion and melt a hole in the cauldron as easily as if it were rubber."

"And?"

"Anybody being foolish enough to add drops of the puss from a vial instead of a dropper."

"Any dolt who does that will be out of this class before they can even protest. But, that is rather obvious."

Sage stood back up, walking forward a few steps away from the table.

"Well there is also the concern of adding the dried toad eyes before stirring the base enough, but that was all I could think of."

Severus nodded, but looked only slightly pleased.

Exhaling softly, Sage looked down. It was easily disappointing to not get a better response from his uncle when he was trying so hard.

"Don't look away, Sage."

"Sorry, Uncle."

"You must get out of that habit. Every time you do that you betray exactly what you are thinking. I don't even have to be a Legilimens to read you."

They never had a chance to finish the conversation because students began filing in. Including more than one Gryffindor who looked as if they had climbed out of bed fifteen or twenty minutes earlier. The first year Slytherins, however, all looked awake and eager to be in class with their Head of House, after all Professor Snape did favor the Slytherins.

Sage could feel the looming presence of his uncle right behind him, knowing that Severus was staring at all the students as they entered the room. There were many things that Sage could tell by the students' reactions to this intimidating kind of behavior. The Gryffindors either looked down and ran to their seats, hoping that they were not noticed, or they looked back at the professor contemptuously, thinking that the man was evil and horridly unfair.

In stark contrast, the Slytherins walked in with some confidence and showing some measure of eye contact. The boys most often nodded or even offered a polite, "Good morning, sir," and the girls offered them both soft, shy smiles. If Sage knew one thing, he knew that all the Slytherins bore some measure of fear for his uncle, they learned that early, and out of this came a certain unspoken respect. Yet, they did not hide or look down in fear the same way that the Gryffindors did. The Ravenclaws were much more similar to the Slytherins in that way, Sage mused.

As the room began to fill with students, Sage walked over to the far wall and leaned against it. One of his favorite things to do was to force the Gryffindors to split their attention between the two Snapes. If he stood by the wall and his uncle stood either by the other wall or in the aisle, the Gryffindors could not watch both of them. It was an effective way to make sure that they did not goof off in class, because they never reasonably knew what both Sage and Severus were doing at the same time.

Sage allowed one corner of his mouth to curve up in a strange sort of satisfied smile. Perhaps these things could be rather fun, after all, he thought. He walked towards the back of the room, soundlessly and fluidly just like his uncle did, and he watched the Gryffindor boys' eyes follow him as they tried not to move their heads to watch him more obviously. After having him in their class for a few days, it was quite clear that they did not look at him as a housemate. He was not a Gryffindor ally to them. Not that he particularly felt like one anymore. The entire house had alienated him.

The moment the class started on their potions the room became very silent. The professor was stalking around the Gryffindor side, so Sage moved over to the Slytherin side. Having seen the professor move away from them, a brown haired Slytherin boy began flinging small pods that looked like peas towards the Gryffindor side of the room. Sage sighed, how stupid could you get? He walked up behind the boy, who was still shooting things to the other side of the room. The Slytherins around him had all noticed Sage's presence and had stopped talking and had started shaking their heads.

He cleared his throat, standing right behind the boy, a Macnair whose first name he did not remember. One of Mandy's brothers.

The boy turned around very quickly, nearly knocking his cauldron over, which he had been neglecting for nearly ten minutes so far as Sage could tell.

The kid's mouth was wide open in shock. His hazel eyes looking thoroughly frightened.

"Mr. Macnair," he said quietly, but authoritatively.

"I'm sorry, sir," the kid blurted out.

Sage almost completely lost control of his impassive face. The boy had called him 'sir' of all things. He was sixteen years old, hardly a 'sir'.

Instead he continued, "Do you know what is inside of those little pods that you are throwing around, that you are to put in your cauldron in the last five minutes of preparing this potion?"

"No," he answered, his voice wavering.

"Well then, perhaps you would like to write a four foot essay on what is inside of them and what would happen if one had inconveniently gotten into a cauldron before it was to be added."

The boy nodded furiously

"This potion base is rather useless," Sage said and with a wave of his hand it disappeared. It had not even crossed his mind that his wandless magic had not been near good enough to do that lately. Then he whispered, "Be grateful that Professor Snape will not write home to tell your father how negligent you are being in class."

The Macnair boy turned as white as milk before he said, "Thank you," very earnestly.

A/N

What do you all think about this turn with Draco?

How long do you think it will take for Severus to warm back up to his nephew and how long do you think it will be before he is sure that Sage is changing, positively changing?

VD - you are keeping me going girl! What happened to everyone else? I feel so abandoned! (sobs) Nobody loves Sage anymore!

MCMish – glad that you are happy I am back on board, can't wait to hear what you think

Owl Eyes – Hey Hey, glad you are still with me too! Thanks for that email.