The Sorting
"Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," said Snape, pokerfaced, his voice subdued so that every child held their breath to hear him, hardly daring to blink in case this tall, swarthy wizard metamorphosed into a vampire or similar when they weren't looking. He was standing very erect, his arms folded, and his black eyes grazed over each upturned face as if they were all a distinctly unsatisfactory in their crude form. When they reached Servius, however, and he lingered a moment, indulging a split second of amazement at having his own flesh and blood standing on the stoop of Hogwarts, his son stared back, and Snape couldn't help a twitch at the corner of his mouth. Servius alone was skeptical and defiant, having seen his father in a bank queue, wiping up owl droppings and apologizing to pub patrons. The mystique no longer worked. Snape privately noted he'd have to get the respect some other way.
"Follow me in an orderly fashion," instructed Snape to the group, turning sharply so his cloak was forced to swirl and flap behind him as he stalked off across the Entrance Hall. The first years followed, some with a backward glance at Hagrid who, playing along, hurried them with his hands and warning eyes.
They crossed the flagstones of the Entrance and passed the doors of the Great Hall from which emanated the din of returned students about to feast. Flashes of laughter, light, warmth and pleasant smells captured the attention of the tired and flustered first years, but they couldn't pause for fear of losing sight of the Scary Wizard, who clipped along so steadily his cloak scarcely touched the ground. Snape reached an arched door off the Hall which he opened, and the boys and girls were shown into a chamber, and here they gathered, huddled, while Snape shut the door with a resounding thunk. He then turned to them.
"My name is Professor Snape," he began a little theatrically, hands on his hips. Several sets of eyes glanced at Servius upon hearing this. "You can call me Professor Snape, Professor, or sir. I am the Deputy Headmaster and I am also your Potions Master. The Headmistress, for those who don't know, is Professor McGonagall. You are now all students of Hogwarts – during the day, during the night, on weekends, you are students here. You will become wizards and witches. If you are efficacious, studious, obedient and willing, you will do extremely well. Hogwarts has produced thousands of Europe's finest, we don't intend to change that record with you. If, however, you think you have nothing to learn, if you think the rules don't apply to you, if you think you are somehow more special than everyone else – then you may do extremely badly. When that happens, you will deal with me. Or worse, your House.
"Which brings me to Houses…hands down, questions later. There are four. You will be sorted into the House that suits you best. In a moment, in the Great Hall, you will be called to sit at a chair and I will place a sorting hat on your head and the hat will decide the House to which you belong."
There was tittering. Snape paused and glared at the direction of the laughter and the two girls responsible froze, then became fascinated with their feet.
"It amuses you? If I were you, I would be taking it very seriously indeed. The House into which you are sorted becomes your home. You will eat and sleep with your House. You will learn with your House, compete alongside your Housemates against the other Houses. When you do well, you earn points for your House, and when you do wrong, so too will points from your House be taken away. At the end of the year, the House with the most points earns the Cup. This is prestigious. Once you are sorted into a House, most Housemates take that allegiance very seriously indeed." Snape flashed a look at the two girls but needn't have bothered – their knees were knocking.
There was a sudden and very deliberate banging on the Chamber door. With a frown, Snape held up his hand at the group of first years to silence them then went to the door and opened it. Outside was Hagrid and next to him, a girl in uniform with blond hair pulled into an austere plait, thin-rimmed glasses and cool blue eyes. "Hagrid?" asked Snape, glancing at the girl, but then he remembered.
"Sorry to innerrupt Professor Snape – I 'ave a late arrival -,"
"Miss Hellmann," said Snape, vaguely recalling her accompanying her mother and Professor Hellmann. "Ah yes. Please come in."
Amelie entered the room and regarded the others staring at her as if they were rather disagreeable animals at a zoo. Then she went to a far corner and stood there alone.
She was right behind Servius and William Huan. Out in front, Snape continued his speech about the Sorting Hat process, and while he wasn't looking, Amelie took up her pale wand and poked Servius in the back with it.
"Ow! What the -?" Servius swung round.
"Is he your Dad?" she asked quietly, flicking her eyes in the direction of Snape.
"No. Yeah. Maybe. How'd you know? What's it to you?'
"Your name label on your collar is sticking out. Also, my Dad said you would be here. My Dad is a teacher at Hogwarts too. He teaches Dark Arts."
Servius instantly shoved his label in, cursing under his breath.
"I thought it was Defence Against the Dark Arts," said William, who had, since the train, stuck closely with Servius and asked him a thousand questions on the lake about why he was a special passenger. William now considered Servius a friend, and ergo their troubles were shared. "What's your accent?"
Amelie looked William up and down. "What's yours?"
"English. Yours is German isn't it? So your farter teaches Dark Arts?" William snickered and Servius did too, giving William a discreet high-five.
There was a pale flare of green light as Amelie casually pointed her wand and hexed William, and the children nearby who saw it jumped away. Snape paused from talking, noticing a disturbance and a tell-tale flash of green. "What's going on?" he demanded.
William abruptly doubled over, clutching his stomach. Then his eyes popped and he cried: "Toilets? Where are the toilets?" and dashed to the door.
Irritation flared in Snape at the interruption, but William had broken out in a sweat and was groaning. Quickly Snape opened the door and stepped out into the Entrance Hall to point William in the direction of the nearest facilities.
When he came back in, he threaded his way through the huddle of students, glowering at Servius and Amelie. "What just happened?"
Amelie instantly pointed at Servius and said, "I saw him hex that boy, sir."
"WHAT?" yelled Servius, astounded. "She's lying! She hexed him!"
Snape allowed ten seconds of uncomfortable silence while he flicked his eyes back and forth between the pair, resting on Servius. "Well we'll just ask him when he returns." He then raised his voice and addressed the group as a whole: "Hexing, jinxing, dueling and using wands outside of controlled environment is strictly forbidden! I don't care how many tricks you think you've learnt, any one of you caught using your wand inappropriately will have it confiscated and serve detention. Have I made myself perfectly clear?"
"Yes sir," mumbled the group.
It was time to go through for the Sorting Ceremony, but there was no sign of William. "One more minute then we get started. Tidy yourselves up, you'll be out there in front of the whole school. You want your Housemates' first impression of you to be a good one….wait here."
A low hubbub of conversation started amongst the students as Snape went outside and shut the door behind him. He marched to the toilet block and went inside looking for the shut cubicle. There was only one, and groans issued forth. "You in there – what's your name?"
"Huan, sir. William Huan."
"How do you feel? I mean, are you feeling better or..?"
"Horrible sir. I don't think I can leave…" Groan…. "Ah God, we ate so many chocolates…some had slugs in them I think…"
"I see," it was impossible to stop a droll smile. "I will send a nurse. Ah…who hexed you? Servius or -,"
"The girl, sir."
"The incantation? By which I mean: the words she used?"
"I don't know sir; she didn't say anything." The groans being broadcast seemed to originate from the depths of the boy's boots.
A non-verbal, perfectly executed hex – so definitely not Servius. Snape raised his brows. But Amelie would need to face some consequences for this: this boy was about to miss the Sorting Ceremony, a pivotal moment in every Hogwartian's memory. And further, the incident had made them late.
"Right. A nurse will be in to see you with a cure." Snape left the toilets and from there went into Great Hall, hastening between tables and up the steps to the teacher's dais. McGonagall ushered him over as soon as she saw him with raised, enquiring brows. "Sick child," he uttered briefly. "He may have to sit the Sorting Hat separately. I'm sending Poppy to deal with him."
Pomfrey looked alarmed at his approach, but once he explained the situation, she hurried out behind him and went urgently to the toilet block. Snape himself returned to the chamber where all the first years were waiting, now being diverted by the arrival of the House ghosts although, he observed, the Muggleborns-and-raised looked more startled and afraid then strictly entertained. He searched for Servius, who was scowling and standing broadside to Amelie, clearly unprepared to turn his back on her, but also unable to tear his eyes away from Nearly Headless Nick who was demonstrating his hinged neck.
"Right. It's time to go through! I want you to line up in single file and follow me." Much scurrying of students ensued, and Snape trooped them out and towards the Great Hall. He led them through the length of the Hall with its thousand glowing candles, hundreds of eyes watching them from the tables, and to the space before the dais with its table of seated teachers, Dumbledore behind them all from his temporary portrait hung on the wall. Snape gave cursory instructions for the students to stand where they were and wait for their name to be called, then went up on the platform to take his place beside the Sorting Hat stool. On the stool presided the Hat itself. Like everything else, it was showing the literal wear and tear of age: the brim was misshapen where the fire had permanently damaged it.
McGonagall then rose from her regal chair and a hush settled on the Great Hall. She stepped up to her flying owl lectern and smiled at the students. They gazed back, absorbed in her cloak, her wonderful pointed hat, her dignified and lofty demeanour. "Welcome to Hogwarts for the two-thousand and six academic year. We are delighted to have you all with us – so many new faces and just as many returning. I can see just by looking at you that you are all going to make very fine witches and wizards." Her eyes looked tired, but they saw perfectly well, and when they rested on Servius's face, she paused. "Welcome. Welcome back, welcome all."
Perhaps the realization of Servius before her prompted McGonagall to say: "Beside me, for those who are unaware, is Professor Snape. He returns to Hogwarts this year after a long sabbatical – some of you in sixth and seventh year may recall his name. He was Headmaster here during the war."
Snape hadn't expected the introduction and stood silently and still while a sudden surge of chatter breezed across the Hall like a brushfire. It was impossible to interpret the tenor or mood of this reaction, and when he looked down at the gathering of first years, he discovered many of the children staring at him, and just as many nudging each other and then pointing. Servius was in his typical attitude of frowning, and brushing off nosy neighboring students.
"Professor Snape is my Deputy and is also Potions Master this year, which I will discuss in more detail during announcements," continued McGonagall. Before her on the lectern was a scroll of parchment which she handed to Snape. "Many of you will now be familiar with the Sorting Ceremony. Once it's complete, we will be ready to feast. But until then, those of you in your Houses – be ready to make your novitiates feel part of your family, greet them warmly, take them into the fold and help them find their feet. You each had your turn – I expect you to pass it along in good Hogwarts fashion. Professor Snape…Hat – it is time for the Sorting."
The Hat sang its song (a reasonably upbeat version) and then Snape began proceedings by reading alphabetically from the list of names, watching as the children stumbled up the steps to the stool, their faces ashen. It had been a very long and emotional day for these young lads and lasses – saying goodbye to their friends and families, a long train ride with strangers, arriving to the vastness of the Castle and now being expected to sit in front of a Hall full of unfamiliar people while an odd, singing Hat read their mind: it was a wonder that half of them didn't faint from pure stress. And yet each year, the tradition played out, and duly would a hundred or so new children be assigned to their Houses, the proportions to each four amazingly equal all things considered.
Retta Antwork into Hufflepuff. Edwin Bartrop into Gryffindor, Tiberius Black into Slytherin (distantly related? undoubtedly), Amity Campbell into Hufflepuff, Tom Cheng and Fergus Christie both into Ravenclaw. The sorting went on and on; through the alphabet they went. Snape watched them all endure the Hat, and sometimes the decision was instantaneous, and sometimes it dithered. It had always been the same but the respective House tables cheered with each freshman, since for that child, it was a first and last sorting in their school history.
Amelie Hellmann was, unsurprisingly, sorted into Slytherin. Snape watched her smartly remove the Hat after the pronouncement was made and march off the podium to the Slytherin table as if the whole business had been a very inconvenient dental procedure. The second and third years moved up the benchseat to make room for her, but the welcome she received was more bewildered than warm and she simply ignored those beside her.
By the S's, Snape found his interest renewed. There was a Suranthi Sitlani into Hufflepuff and a John Shinsui into Gryffindor. Then Ackley Shrew and Samuel Small both got sorted into Slytherin.
Snape consulted his parchment as he did for each new name, but he knew who was next – it was the first name on the list he'd looked for. With a peculiar, nervous twinge he read out: "Snape, Servius," and then felt heat rise up the back of his neck. He was glad his voice sounded normal and he affected to look neutral, even diffident, as his son made his way through the remaining students to mount the stairs. Servius was less circumspect. With nothing to prove to anyone, with the judgement of others a matter of singular indifference to him, he glared at his father in passing as if the ensuing humiliation was all Snape's fault, and took his place at the stool. The thunderous expression notwithstanding, Snape was struck anew at Servius's brooding good looks and wondered if parenthood somehow blinded you to the reality of your offspring's appearance. He couldn't help but cast a quick glance at Sinistra, who was seated with the other teachers, wearing her velvet robe and witch's hat, now that it had become apparent which child was his. But she was staring at Servius, staring hard as if somehow trying to imprint him on her retinas.
Please sort him into Slytherin, thought Snape as he picked up the Hat, and then aimed himself a mental blow. No. It doesn't matter. He'll always be your son, you will not lose him. And then, despite himself, If not Slytherin, at least Ravenclaw?
The Hat was placed on Servius's head and set to work. It was one of the thoughtful, more prolonged decisions. Snape watched apprehensively as the Hat considered his son.
"There's a lot of anger here," said the Hat in its small voice to Servius. "Is this anger that can be turned to good, turned productive, turned to effectiveness I wonder? Perhaps the Gryffindors will help you turn this negative energy into something you and the school can be proud of?"
Don't care, thought Servius.
"Rejection, rebellion, a determination to ruin things? Perhaps the Hufflepuffs will help you remember all the things to be grateful for," said the Hat.
Whatever.
"You're not the first child to be arrogant. You perhaps believe you are smarter than the rest of us? You certainly have a lot of intelligence…perhaps Ravenclaw would put you to use?"
How about we get this over with? The choice is obvious.
The Hat bided a moment. "There is one last House that I see shadows of everywhere in here. And this is the House that will put you in your place. You'll find your ranking in this House, Master Snape, and, if you can use it wisely, you'll be on the path to greatness. Better be SLYTHERIN!"
The last words were announced clearly and for general ears and struggling to conceal his relief, Snape whipped off the Hat to find Servius looking up at him with a sly grin. The Slytherins erupted into applause and whoops and cheers, which caused all the teachers to raise perplexed brows. When Snape glanced at Slughorn, he received a smile and a wink in return. The other House tables were a bit nonplussed at this reception as well, but Tattinger and the other Prefects at Slytherin had grins the size of watermelon slices and they bunched up on the benchseats to make a space for Servius. Amelie observed all this with barely disguised disdain.
Without another look at his father, Servius strolled off the podium, down the stairs and made his way to the Slytherin table where he was received with backslaps, high fives, fist-bumps and various other teenage gestures which he reciprocated with utter complacency. Snape looked to Sinistra again, who met his eyes with a bewildered – but cautiously optimistic – expression of her own.
As the noise subsided, Snape cleared his throat and returned to his parchment. "Uh, Solomon, Llewellyn?"
Poor Llewellyn. If the previous performance hadn't been discouraging enough, the progress to the stairs for the plump, curly-headed blond boy – who looked like one half of Tweedledum and Tweedledee - was cut short by sudden shouting from the door to the Entrance Hall.
"Wait! Wait!" William Huan, followed by Madam Pomfrey, came hurtling down the aisle between the tables. "I want to be Sorted! Don't forget me!"
Pomfrey gave Snape a discreet thumbs-up.
"Wait there," said Snape, hand up, then nodded at Llewellyn. "Solomon – up here, quick smart."
Solomon was sorted perfunctorily into Ravenclaw, then Snape told William Huan to take the stool. Huan virtually ran onto the stage and plonked his bottom down, back very straight, and Snape placed the Hat onto his head with reservation.
Presently the Hat shouted: "Slytherin!" and Huan was beaming.
"Huh,"remarked Snape in surprise, and the applause from Slytherin was slightly more muted, but Servius gave the boy a big, cheesy grin.
When the Sorting Ceremony was finally complete, the feasting commenced. Snape put the Hat safely out of harm's way and took a seat at the teacher's table next to McGonagall to have a bite and discreetly watch Servius amongst the other Slytherins.
"Well, well," commented McGonagall as she scooped beans onto her plate. She seemed to be concentrating very hard on her spoon. "A strapping young lad you have there. He is a chip off the old block, I must say, I'm surprised you needed a birth certificate as evidence."
Snape looked at her, gathered his thoughts and then said: "Ma'am, I regret I haven't informed you sooner. I have recently undertaken a procedure to have all my removed memories reinstated. All such matters which I previously denied – well, I now realise have substance. My intention by removing them was to ensure Voldemort could never determine the truth and thereby ensure Charity's safety, however – well it did more to save my life than hers, as it turned out. The unforeseen consequences now take the shape of Servius and his overt contempt of me and Hogwarts altogether. I suspect – I fear - I am inadequate to the task."
McGonagall listened to all this in amazement. Then after a pause during which she took a long sip of wine, she said, "Well I'm glad you decided to finally tell me. You must also tell me one day how one goes about putting memories back in their head. But as for Servius – we discussed this, did we not? Nobody knows how to be a parent until they become one. And relationships are not glass – they are not irreparable. They are…fluid…and…oh I can't remember the words," she muttered irritably. "Modern nonsense Concetta was talking about the other day. What I'm trying to say, Severus, is don't give up before you've even begun. That isn't in your nature."
Snape again glanced over at Servius who was eating and talking and grinning like every other student in the room.
"Besides, from what I saw during the sorting, you'd better watch out that laddie doesn't get one up on you."
"Ma'am?"
"Did you happen to notice how long the Hat took? It was a stall. It's because your child has complex personality – there's more than one dimension that it has to weigh up. You'll need your wits about you, that much you can count on."
After the feast, came the announcements, the introductions and the notices. Tired heads around the tables were starting to nod, eyelids droop, and the children began to wish they were at home and could crawl into their own beds. But they had to go to their dorms. And for those who had never boarded before, this was yet another hurdle to overcome.
The Slytherins were taken by Slughorn to the Slytherin/Archive Common Room. The temporary arrangements had been explained by McGonagall during her announcements, so the older students followed with as much curiosity as the first years. The Archive Door had been magicked with password protection which Slughorn gave to them all, and then he guided them through.
The older students were impressed with how much the Archive now resembled their original Common Room, and the first years simply stared around them, none of them having seen anything like it. Fires roared in their grates and sconces flickered ambiently and a couple of seventh-years collapsed onto the soft leather sofa.
Seeing an absorbed Servius, Tattinger said to him: "The proper Common Room is under the lake and there are windows into the water. It's amazing. But this is a pretty good replica."
"Like Underwater World?" asked William. "Can you see sharks and stuff?"
"It's freshwater. The lake."
"So what then? Carp?"
"The squid sometimes," retorted Tattinger defensively. "The mer-people."
"Squid?" Servius in disbelief. "Mer-people?"
"Like I said; it's amazing."
Slughorn gave them all a few minutes to wander around the room, then ushered them through to the dorms where they were to select bunks. Being Slytherins, almost all of them wanted top bunk, so Slughorn eventually had a coin-flipping process put into effect and in due course beds were assigned and personal belongings placed nearby. All owls had been taken by elves to the owlery, which upset Servius because he desperately wanted to check on Tāne, but he kept it to himself.
As Servius crawled into his bottom-bunk (William was on top) in this strange, inexplicable place, surrounded by people he barely knew, he tried not to hear their idiosyncratic settling and sleeping noises, the persistent thudding of suitcase lids being open and shut, the hushed laughter when some boy farted, the constant complaint of bedsprings creaking. He put his head under his pillow and kept his wand in easy reach, quite prepared to use it on anybody who tried to approach him during the night: the dinner-time conversation had been dominated by stories of various creatures and criminals that surrounded the castle inside and out.
In his other hand was a picture of his mother that he'd been given when he was five. The image was difficult to make out, there had been so many creases and folds in it. But she looked so loving in the picture it never failed to cheer him. He yearned for his own room, his own things, his own friends and felt a hot lump rise up in his throat. "…furthermore, I can keep an eye on you…" his father had said once he got into Slytherin. Well here he was, ready to be decked out in emerald tomorrow, and frankly, the way he was feeling right now, he'd even take a comforting word from that arsehole.
"Lights out!" announced a Prefect, and with a swipe of a wand, the gaslamps were turned off. Only one or two small candle-sconces flickered near the doors, otherwise it was black – not even a window to permit the light of the near full-moon.
Excited chatter became murmuring and murmurs gave way to snoring but Servius lay awake, hearing William sleeping above him, his incessant tossing and turning having finally ceased. He had almost slipped into an exhausted sleep himself when he heard talking near the entrance to the dorms. It was muted, the conversers obviously conscious that the children needed their rest, but Servius could hear enough to detect Slughorn's voice.
"What a shame! You should have dropped by a bit earlier – it was lights out about ten minutes ago."
"I couldn't make my excuses. As it is, I've left McGonagall with a pile of work." His father's deep tones. "Since I'm here, you may need to have a word with Amelie Hellmann. She hexed another student before the Sorting Ceremony."
"Oh indeed? I see…uh, very well. Now, light your wand but dim, Severus, don't want to be waking any of them."
Servius listened intently as soft footfalls sounded through the dormitory. Peeking out from under his pillow, he could make out the dim light of a wand-tip hastily illuminating each sleeping face. He was torn, his immediate impulse was to dive back under the pillow, but instead he lay still, with his eyes shut, just enough of his visage showing to be discernable.
Presently the gentle light came close and he heard the footsteps stop beside his bed. The light was steady for ten seconds or so, but no words were said. Then so unexpectedly he almost jumped, Servius felt warm fingertips on his brow, the merest brush of a lock of hair, and then gone. The light faded to black and he heard the rustle of his father's cloak, followed by footsteps quietly but swiftly walking away.