"Davis, Tracey."
The sorting normally attracted high stakes and deep anticipation as siblings and childhood friends kept their fingers tightly crossed. Your house, after all, determined everything: friends, future, even personality! But today a special, unusual eagerness ran through the students of Hogwarts.
"Entwhistle, Kevin."
Today the mysterious Boy Who Lived was about to join wizarding society, or so the rumors went. He hadn't been on the train. Of course he hadn't. He was the great Harry Potter! He would arrive by appiration or Pegasus back or-
"Finch-Fletchley, Justin-"
What house would he be in? Who was he? Hundreds of eyes scanned the tiny first years for some hint of greatness. A hundred breaths were held in nervous anticipation.
"Um- Professor!"
Professor McGonagall had never been interrupted during a sorting before so forgive her for taking a moment to realize that the next first year had not stepped forward to take his place under the hat. Instead the entire great hall was fixed on the sight of a small, red-headed boy raising his hand.
The professor quickly glanced at her roll sheet. What issue did the young Weasley boy have? No doubt he would be joining his brothers in Gryffindor.
"Yes- what is it?" She snapped.
"I believe there has been some mistake," The boy answered with a slight waver in his voice, "My name wasn't called."
McGonagall signed, "The W's are at the end of the list-"
"I'm not a Weasley," The boy dropped his hand with a sigh as though this was not the first time he had correct this mistake, "It's Evans. Harry Evans. E comes before F?" The slight inflection on the end suggested that he might have, but probably hadn't, remembered the alphabet correctly.
At the sound of the name, another face framed by fiery hair flashed before McGonagalls eyes. Lily Evans? On second look, the boy certainly shared her hair color and the slight delicacy of build and chin.
"Harry Potter?" She gasped. Her intake was echoed throughout the Great Hall and followed by a series of murmurs. This was Harry Potter? This?
"It's Evans." The boy replied, "Harry Evans."
. . . . . .
"Ah, Harry Potter. Our newest celebrity." The sarcasm felt less satisfying than Snape had hoped when he swept into the room and was confronted with the all too painful sight of that particular shade of red. Richer than the Weasley orange, it brought back all too fond memories from his school days.
"It's Evans, sir." The boy replied firmly. "I'd rather not be associated with my biological progenitor."
For a moment, Snape could only stare at the boy blankly. Doubt, confusion and faint satisfaction curled around his heart. But there was an image he had to project to the first years- one he had spent too many years polishing to let crack now.
"5 points from Gryffindor for your cheek," He snapped and then, "See me after class. Now. Can anyone tell me what happens when you mix…"
. . . . .
"What do you mean you do not wish to be associated with your…" Snape did not remember the exact phrase.
"Biological progenitor." Harry replied stiffly. The class had gone relatively smoothly with no exploding caldrons or potion mishaps. Snape had kept his eye on the boy and been shocked to see the familiar press of lips in intense focus, the same turn of the wrist when he peeled the dandelion root. It was as though seeing a ghost, a mirage.
Snape had been prepared to hate this boy, this offspring of his greatest tormentor, but could see little of James Potter in the child beyond the hazel eyes and need for glasses. Perhaps if he had also inherited the messy, windswept hair that was a famous Potter trait…
"Yes, your father." Snape corrected, ferociously curious when the small child's face twisted into a sneer reminiscent of another Evans sister.
"A father," Harry bit out, "Would not abandon his beloved at the first sign of a child, nor fail to reach out when his beloved died in childbirth. A father would never leave his child to be raised by his mother's sister without a word or offer of aid."
Snape blinked in absolute confusion. Had this happened? Had Potter truly abandoned Lily for the war effort? But why-
Understanding dawned and Snape smiled. Ah, Petunia. She had lost a sister to the magical world and who better represented this world than the endlessly charming and fay James Potter. In one, vicious lie, Petunia had exacted her revenge on her in-law and recouped an image of a sister she could live with- the beautiful, foolish, betrayed Lily.
That it was a lie was no matter. Petunia had had eleven years to cement the image of James Potter in his son's mind and heart. Snape had had no idea the woman's loathing for the man had run so deep, almost as deep as his own. The germ of a plan grew in his mind.
There was no doubt who Dumbledore had hoped to welcome back to Hogwarts. James Potter was the golden child of Gryffindor: handsome, charismatic, talented, pureblooded but broad minded. Who better to paint as the face of the future than the return of Dumbledore's dreams. But Dumbledore, as usual, had overlooked the other half of Harry's parentage: brilliant, courageous, far cleverer than she let on.
"I knew your mother," Snape said eventually, tickled to imagine his rival's reaction to a son who would neither resemble him in looks or, with the right push, in character. "She was an extraordinary witch."
"Really?" Harry brightened, "Can you tell me more? Aunt Petunia rarely talks about her. I've seen the photo album of when they were young, but-" He trailed off and glanced at the man hopefully. Perfectly primed, Snape realized, desperate for the right details of his beloved mother.
"She was a master charms worker, but her true talent lay in potions." Snape smiled thinly as the boy soaked up his words like a sponge. "And she despised Quidditch."
Harry Evans, he decided, would have a far more interesting future.
A/N: saw the meme of Harry with his mother's hair and father's eyes and couldn't help but run with it. This will probably go no where fast- but if I did a Snape!Mentor fic, it would be with this premise: Harry idolizing his mother rather tha father.
