Hello again everyone! See how fast I update? It is because this little story just needs to get out of my head, and it's fun!

Just as a warning- some things in this story will be predictable… but only because it will make everything else anything but ;) in sort, expect twists and turns by the shovel, but not in the usual places.

That said, onwards! Chapter 3.

***

Minerva had qualms about which place to use. Last night both Snape's son and his escort had slept in the guest wing, as the boy had no access to any one dormitory yet. This would be rectified today. Normally, sortings for transfer students took place in her office. But Severus' portrait was there. How would Rasmus react upon seeing it? How would the portrait? Was it wise to follow protocol or should she seek refuge to the deputy's office?

"You have not changed a bit," Snape sneered from his frame, leaning threateningly over the armchair's back instead of sitting in it. "You are still the cowardly lion all Gryffindors inadvertedly are."

"Severus! How could you tell me that?" Minerva exclaimed. "Did I not show your son the courtesy necessary?"

"I think, Minerva, that he is speaking of his own treatment by you."

"What, Albus? How can I possibly be treating him wrong?" Minerva frowned crankily. Dumbledore's portrait always sided with Snape's these days- for everything, even on whether her tartan hat was silly or not. The eyes even managed to twinkle through the paint over the half-moon shaped glasses.

"Because I expect he would want to see his son after all this time."

Minerva almost blanched, but then scowled.

"You- and him- are sodding bloody portraits! He is not Severus, but Severus' portrait!" she pointed at the glowering black-clad man.

"And pray tell me how can a 'sodding bloody portrait' as you call it, be able to give you answers to questions that require critical thinking, hm? How does the magic bind our personality in this canvas? Can you honestly claim that some part of me has not been summoned, bound, charmed, call it what you like, to animate this portrait so my experience and opinions would benefit you? And can you honestly imagine that this does not involve me feeling things, Minerva?"

The way Snape banged his fist upon the canvas during his almost desperate tirade made it look like it was indeed a prison, a window at the mercy of those who made it, and yet another set of bonds for the soul of the man it depicted- with little choice on the matter and no reward if she did not choose to give it. It made her skin crawl. If he was correct, if the portraits were not just a magical item but the only way for the dead to communicate with the living- then Minerva had opportunities and obligations. Once again decisions that were not made in the past and the resolution for them in retrospect challenged her, mocking her, daring her to act on them now. She sighed and nodded.

"Very well, Severus."

***

"Come, mr. Snape," said Flitwick amiably an hour later, in Minerva's office, as Rasmus walked in with his uncle. "Let's get you sorted." He drew up the customary stool as Minerva held the Sorting Hat in her hands. It was glaring at the prospective student suspiciously, and Rasmus' eyes had narrowed in response even before he said good morning.

Minerva watched the two wizards approach, dressed in non-muggle clothes for the first time. The man, Nikos, had worn a typical dark colored muggle suit. The teenager had come dressed in simple clothes- muggle blue jeans and a shirt of dark purple- but this time, Rasmus was wearing his Athenian school's uniform. It consisted of sturdy cotton dark grey pants, a dark blue sweater with a white shirt underneath, and over all a short little dark blue cape with a white stripe at the hem. It draped across the chest and fell to the elbows in folds that made the reference to Hellenic antiquity clear, and was held in place with a clasp right under the left collarbone, shaped as the school's insignia: a shield with a medusa's head upon it, in front of a crossed dagger and wand. Minerva glanced at Nikos. The wizard's professor robes were pretty much like the student ones, except his cape was longer, reaching down to the waist, and colored crimson with two white stripes. He smiled at her amiably.

"Rasmus has not had a chance to acquire what is the requirement for Hogwarts' uniform just yet; I hope it does not offend you. Right after his tests, we will equip him with whatever else is needed, at Diagon Alley."

"No, no offence at all," Minerva said distractedly, watching Snape's son- his quick glance had immediately noticed his father's portrait.

Severus was standing in front of the armchair now, one hand balled right over his stomach, the other seemingly leaning on the frame. His expression was wistful and proud, and for the first time since the portrait woke up, Minerva saw Snape's face devoid of any acerbic or aggressive emotion. There was only pride, longing and sorrow there, but he did not speak.

And neither did his son, though it was obvious that it was done at a great effort not to- his breathing was more forceful and his mouth pressed into a tight, thin line. His eyes glistened more than would be normal, until Severus raised his chin in an inviting, defiant way. Minerva misread it as an invitation for Rasmus to speak, but apparently that was not the case, because his son straightened up, clearing his throat, and turned his back to the portrait as he sat down on the stool.

"I'm ready," he said, but his voice cracked a little, and Minerva bit the inside of her cheek to stay her expression from being anything but neutral. She stepped forward and hesitated. Should she say something? But what could be proper?

She just plopped the hat upon the boy's head.

"Hmmm. Hmmm! Here's a head I thought I wouldn't sit on again," the hat murmured in Rasmus' ear as it hopped and shuffled around its axis on his head. "But then again, you are not Severus, are you? You have intelligence and cunning, but you are not sly, I see. You have courage, too, to face anyone, and the conscientiousness to see it through. You would do well in any house, but Ravenclaw sounds to me-"

"Listen, you mangy old piece of glorified rag," Rasmus growled, glaring up at the rim of the Sorting Hat as he half-whispered, half thought of his address to it. "If you don't want me to sneak up here when nobody's looking and pull out your seams one by one and use them for my shoelaces while I use the rest of you for a dishrag, you will put me in Slytherin."

"Threats, eh?" the Hat mused. "That may or may not be empty. Ravenclaw suits you well."

"See into my mind; you know I do not bluff. I never make an idle threat," Rasmus said. "Slytherin, Hat. Now."

Minerva frowned as she watched how Rasmus had bent his head, so his face was not visible with the Hat on, whispering to it as his hands gripped the edges of the stool so tightly his knuckles were white. And the Hat was deliberating in a way she had very rarely seen before. And then suddenly, it nearly jumped off Rasmus' head and into her hands as it cried quickly:

"Slytherin! And only there!"

And Rasmus only smirked at it, nodding as if something went particularly well. He stood up and turned over his shoulder.

"Well done," was the only phrase Severus' portrait said, but the way Rasmus' eyes lit up, Minerva knew it was more than enough.

***

"It's all like he would describe it in his letters," Rasmus said, looking around him in Diagon Alley, speaking in Greek with Nikos who was accompanying him. "It's like I've always been here."

"Yet your voice is sinking," Nikos glanced at the teen's profile. He was bending his head so that his hair, wind-swept like his mother's, was hiding his eyes a little. Nikos shuddered to himself- when only the sharp outline of the nose and jaw were visible Rasmus did not just resemble his father. He was him. "Is it the portrait? Seeing him again after the mirror went inactive?" he ventured softly, placing a hand upon his shoulder.

Rasmus shook his head.

"No, no. I was happy to see it. Glad, really. I know what it signifies, that they gave him a frame there. I'm silly, uncle. I don't know why I feel like just crying inside. Mum always knew how to make it right, but I don't."

"Was it that hat thingy?"

"It's the grave."

Nikos understood, but he did not speak, waiting Rasmus out. And indeed, the boy spoke again, looking at him- exactly like his mother would when she was worried, with the same arch of the eyebrows and the same biting of the lips.

"I know it's here somewhere, along with Dumbledore's. I know what they're up to. I know… oh, uncle Nikos, how will I do it?"

Nikos sighed and squeezed the youth's shoulder a bit, then draped an arm around his shoulders.

"With any luck, you won't even have to. That's why I am here, remember? Why don't you try to leave the future to itself, like Aello would say, and enjoy the now? You passed with flying colours in everything, got into Slytherin like you wanted, got course choices- which is an unreachable dream in Athens! Just enjoy it, and let's go buy your books and stuff, shall we?"

Rasmus smiled thinly for a moment, holding Nikos' gaze. Then, after a couple of moments, and as if he saw in the greek's eyes what he had been looking for, he chuckled and nodded, shaking his head as if to throw off the morose emotions he'd been harbouring.

"You're right, let's!" he said. "Let's go to Flourish and Blott's first! I want to browse around, too. You pick the textbooks in the list, and I'll pick the interesting books- oh! And a trip by Obscurus' next!" he grinned and Nikos laughed, glad to see his nephew's mood elevate. Books tended to help in that respect.

"Fine; but after that we will go buy you robes, even if I have to drag you there in a body bind," he warned as he followed the teenager that was now purposefully making a beeline for the bookstores, cutting his way through the crowd.

***

"Honestly, Hermione, I am able to sort through my own bibliography needs," Harry said a little crankily as he saw a pile of books floating into his line of vision. "I don't want you to pick my reading for me."

"Actually, this is the reading you will have to do whether you like it or not- it's the book list for our seventh year," Hermione said in clipped tones. "I simply took the liberty of picking three of each for you, Ron and me. You know; so that you can lollygag the rest of the time or 'sort through your bibliography'," she added with a sweet grin and bat of the eyelids. Harry groaned.

"Sorry, 'Mione, really sorry. I guess I'm a bit tense about returning to Hogwarts. I wouldn't do it if I didn't absolutely have to."

"Well, technically you don't absolutely have to," Hermione said. "Nobody will say no to you no matter what position you want to shoot for, in the ministry or outside of it."

"Yes, but that would make me something like… hmm, something like Lockhart," Harry made a face as he peered at the book spines for what he was looking for. "I'd be using my fame to get 'special treatment'."

Hermione glanced at her friend and smiled fondly. She loved to see this new development in Harry.

"Wouldn't he be nodding in smugness in hearing you say that," she said but Harry grinned and shook his head.

"Naw, he'd scoff and say I was trying to curry favour. And maybe I am."

"Harry, I got it! Here's the book," Ron's voice called a corridor further down, and he and Hermione scooted over there.

Ron was happily waving a small volume, which he handed to Harry as soon as he approached, titled Taboos, Espies, Detectors: How to Find what Does Not Want to be Found.

"That's great Ron! No wonder we took so much to find it, it's so small!"

"Actually, I didn't find it, this fellow did and was kind enough to give it to me," Ron said with a smile and turned towards a younger boy that was clutching in his hands another copy of the same.

"No trouble," the boy drawled although it was obvious he was not at ease. "There are two copies. We can both have one."

Harry had the distinct impression that this boy knew him- not as a celebrity from the newspaper, but knew him for him. It was a creepy feeling, because Harry also felt like the boy was familiar. Too familiar.

"Well, thank you nonetheless," Harry smiled into grey eyes that glared at him in a way he never thought he would be glared at again.

"Don't thank me, Potter," the boy said, spitting the last name, and about turned, storming off without waiting for introductions.

The trio was dumbstruck for a second, but then Harry blurted out:

"My! Are you guys thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I'm thinking how fortunate we are that Snape didn't have any sons- 'cos he'd be him," Ron muttered, and ducked being whacked with the book that happened to be in Hermione's hands.

"You are both incorrigible!" she exclaimed when Harry laughed as well, but she couldn't help smiling either at the absurd thought.

And yet, her heart sank a little that it couldn't be true- for Snape's sake.

***

And that's that! So we see that not only Rasmus, but Nikos as well DO have an agenda! And what about Snape's tomb? And what about the extra reading that Harry (gasp!) wants to do, and seems to be in Rasmus' book choices, too?

We'll find out soon! I am accepting theories in reviews! Or anything else you are thinking right now. ;)

Suchrandomness: interesting that you think there would be public regret regarding Snape… As for Rasmus' competence in Potions, we'll see.

Aki Momo: Thanks!! I was shooting for a bit of originality.

Sherbet Lemon Addict: Yep, pretty sure, he was alive when Sevvie was. :P

Cyiusblack: This is as soon as I can make it.