Hello again- this is a lightning fast update, isn't it? It's because I'm speed writing it for fun. My speed most likely won't be affected by your reviews, but my mood definitely will, including any ideas/preferences you may have, such as who you'd want Rasmus to interact with, and stuff. I just might incorporate it into the plot if it doesn't unhinge it!
And so, onwards! Chapter 2.
***
August 10 could not come soon enough.
Though it was only a mere month from the time the letter came, Minerva felt impatient and generally unable to think of much else than the unheard of, world shattering fact that Snape- Severus Snape, perpetual resident of the dungeons and incurable devotee of someone long dead, had a son.
She went through the transcripts with care, sometimes frowning to herself at course names that sounded decidedly… not magical, while others too advanced for children and still others too inclusive to be categorized in any one type of lesson. She had no doubt this young Snape would be… complicated. And the situation would also be complex.
Talking to the son of a war hero that was, indeed, so vigorously talked about even now- Skeeter had pre-announced the release of a book on the Potions Master with some garish title that she was trying to avoid knowing about, for fear of harping down on the impossible woman and transfiguring her into a cockroach permanently… it shouldn't have been difficult. She would have no qualms talking to Teddy about Nymphadora or Remus.
But how do you talk to the son of the man who was scorned and hated, and did not survive to taste anything else but the murderous, abusive or manipulative appetite of even those who claimed they cared for him?
Maybe he doesn't know too much about Severus' work here, she thought hopefully, but she knew that was next to impossible; even from the short, formally respectable letter it became clear that Rasmus had not been abandoned by his father and they had somehow maintained clear channels of communication.
She smiled a little, gazing at the empty frame of the Potions Master. She had felt a little less odious when the painting arrived, the active recognition of Snape's time as Headmaster being part of his resistance, his unsung war against Voldemort that he shouldered completely on his own, with nothing but task masters sharing knowledge of the truth about him. You should have been in Gryffindor, for a heart as enormous as yours. In truth she was happy that Rasmus existed. Children love their parents unconditionally, and Severus needed to have experienced that; the love of a child, and starry eyes full of wonder gazing up at you, and only you, as the only source of safety and good in the world…
But maybe Severus never experienced that. After 1986, she did not recall any trip to Greece being taken by him. Her face fell. Rasmus sounded precocious. How must it have burned, hurt to be unable to, well, simply brag about one's boy in the staff room? How much would praises heaped upon Harry have cut Severus to the quick, reminding him that he could not acknowledge his son?
"Yes, Minerva?" she glanced up from her desk to see Flitwick entering.
"I'll wait for the rest of the staff to join us through the floo for this, Filius. We'll be having a very special student to test in a month or so," Minerva said and side glanced at the tin box on her right. It was empty of sherbet lemons or any other confection, and McGonagall made a decision never to leave it empty of instantaneous comfort food from then on. Off the corner of her eye she saw Snape's portrait quietly return to the frame to watch, his expression one of gloating expectation. Of course.
Definitely some comfort food tidbit. Maybe after-dinner mints.
***
Normally, she had the capacity of sending ahead her deputy headmaster, Professor Flitwick, to head the welcoming committee for a transfer student of any sort but there was no way that Minerva would not be there to see Snape's son arrive, even if he had taken the traditional wizard methods and either arrived in Hogsmeade or even used more exotic means of transportation like the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang had done for the Triwizard.
But no; they would all just need to wait at the entrance of the castle for young mr. Snape to simply walk up to it. He would arrive by muggle transport, the Athenian school had written, by plane, landing in Leeds and getting the normal train to Aberdeen from there, whereupon at the appropriate point in the train's route, he and his accompanying professor from Greece would fly the rest of the way to Hogwarts castle. The headmistress didn't quite know why, but the easy manner the Greek wizards spoke about transportation that more than half of the british wizards knew nothing about- not to mention the lack of wizard stationery- made her uneasy, as if she was gazing over uncharted territory of some sort.
"Already so jittery, Minerva? Tsk, I would expect a Gryffindor to show more backbone," the portrait jeered from the side. She rolled her eyes. Snape had been doing more goading these past few weeks than the rest of his time as a portrait put together.
"Mind your own business, Severus," she snapped primly, and popped a mint in her mouth.
"My own business… as in seeing to matters concerning my son, you mean?" the snide remark was relentless in further unhinging her, so she huffed, plopped her hat on her head and stormed out to meet the rest of the professors.
It was only August yet, but nearly the entirety of her staff was already there, and how could they not be once they learnt of the news? Minerva had half-expected the Daily Prophet to trumpet the youngest Snape's existence and force her to deal with a swarm of letters, reporters and other publicity drama flotsam by then but the paper had been mysteriously quiet about it. It was extremely suspicious considering the raucous hubbub around the Potions Master's name; why weren't they all over this already?
It almost felt insulting, in a way; or threatening, as if they were preparing something especially malignant about this definitely unknown side of the double agent's life. Or maybe they don't know yet, and the bombshell, along with whatever dung they will cook up to go with it, will be dropped when there are students on the grounds, too.
Minerva's mouth twisted in revulsion at the prospect. Trust the Skeeter creature to make the most fuss possible at the least convenient times.
"Minerva! Filius has made all the arrangements necessary," the new Head of Slytherin, Professor Vector announced, but McGonagall knew she was just saying something the headmistress already knew to pave the way for gossip. "I can't wait to see Severus' boy! I hear he has taken Arithmancy as a basic core course for the Greek middle schoolers- and his mother Aello was a brilliant and rather unconventional Potions mistress… and several say, rather beautiful," the professor smiled with meaning as Minerva took her place at the table in the main hall, all set for tea once the expected wizards arrived. And they would be any time now. To talk of the mystery of the boy's conception there and then made Minerva nervous.
"Septima, for the last time; Severus' portrait refuses to tell me what their relationship was, if there was any relationship at all between him and Aello," Minerva sighed.
"Rubbish!" professor Vector scoffed. "Severus was all about love-"
"- and hid it so well we were all convinced he was a torture-craving serial killer," McGonagall cut off her colleague in irritation. "Nobody except Albus knew his true colours, and he fooled us all, from both sides of the war, so don't presume to know just what he and Aello were, if anything."
"They were my parents. Hello, professors."
The last words rang out in the silence of McGonagall's rather loud statement, and the professors turned at the entrance to the main hall, where the calm voice that intoned just like his had done had come from. Minerva felt her face flush in embarrassment- not only had they not been poised as they should have been, they were caught gossiping, and in such a way! Oh horror of horrors! She got up scurried forward, her staff in tow, and did her best to salvage some dignity by standing straight and smiling tightly at the boy in front of her and the wizard accompanying him.
"Hello, mr. Snape. I am Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts after your father," she uttered the rehearsed words- words she had measured to show the boy her stance, her allegiance, and respect towards the name he carried.
"We give our greetings," the accompanying Greek wizard with dark brown hair and light, almost amber eyes, said in a decidedly flat, rather loud, accent. "My name's Nikos Galanos, and I am Rasmus' uncle on his mother's side. It is my privilege to escort him here for you."
"You are most welcome," Minerva said and shook his hand- another muggle gesture, and she was happy to know how to respond, albeit with a tiny bit of latency. "Please, join us to the table, we are having tea."
She gestured for the newcomers to go on ahead of her as her staff also hurried to take their seat, just so that she could steal a cursory glance at Rasmus Snape. Oh yes; you are his alright, she couldn't help thinking. The reed-thin 15 year old was definitely manifesting Snape genes- but oddly enough he was not a carbon copy of his father; one could see the maternal features there too, mixing together to create a whole that was surprisingly easy on the eyes.
Rasmus' hair was nearly black, but not quite- it was the colour of very dark chestnut, falling in easy feather-light strands upon the same pale complexion that had been Severus', just below his ears but well away from his eyes. He definitely had the Snape nose- it was large and hooked, but it was balanced out by a well shaped mouth that must have been his mother's, and eyes shaped just like Severus', but larger. They were a hard grey of dark stone, those eyes- dark enough to be deep like Severus' had been, and light enough to enclose thunder in their sharp glance.
And he walked just like his father did- quietly, purposefully, and with the lofty brooding that made Minerva's heart dip in hot water.
"You look to be a fine, strapping young lad," Flitwick was saying to fill in the awkward silence as the rest of the professors seemed to simply gawk. "I am very pleased to meet you- I am Professor Flitwick, I will be testing you at Charms. Will I be surprised?"
Rasmus arched an eyebrow as he sat rather demurely, not taking any initiative in pouring himself tea or taking anything on his plate. His hands knit upon the table- long, pale fingers that promised agility. He smiled thinly to match the professor's expression, but it did not reach his eyes as he looked at him askance. In fact, from the way her deputy seemed to fidget, McGonagall wondered if the look the young Snape gave him had not been withering.
"Surprised, professor? That would depend on what you expect me to do, I guess- or what you think I've been raised to do." Rasmus' accent was not quite British, but it was not quite Greek either. "But you will find that I do, actually, enjoy wand-flicking and believe it can be what can save one's life."
Wand-flicking. Something Severus would say, Minerva shivered, watching how the youth wrapped a compliment in an insult, making his father's presence loom over the table in the same time but purposefully- and painfully- avoiding to mention his name. And oddly enough, the Greek wizard remained smugly silent, not trying at all to take part in what was, she felt, a performance the boy had intended to launch on them.
Minerva stirred her tea needlessly as she averted her gaze for a thoughtful moment. There was anger in those eyes that held stony thunder, and there was purpose other than just to make impressions. And hadn't his guardian said he wanted to come to this school, the very one in which his father had breathed his last?
Just what is it that you want of us, Rasmus Octavian Snape?
Minerva had the sinking feeling of dread that she would find out after the fact.
***
And that's it! How do you like Rasmus' first appearance? Doesn't he look like he already has an agenda?
Next time we get to see what Harry is doing, and Ron and Hermione (maybe) as well as the preparations for the school year to come, and so on and so forth.
So anti-climactic, the Greeks, aren't they? Rather than make a dramatic entrance on pegasi, they just sneak up on you while you're not looking. :)
Now for those of you who were so kind as to leave me reviews (and please give me some more. There's no fun in fanfiction if you're not sharing like I am ;) ) :
Duj: The term is very fancy indeed, but I wanted to use something very pompous/important sounding to indicate the way Athenians handle authority. I am also having plans for this term and its use. ;)
ScarletRosePetal: Thank you! I hope you like what you see here, and keep reading (and reviewing)