A/N: Again with the I don't own this universe or the characters within it. It's so sad, too as I would have treated my Snape much differently. All mistakes are mine as I have no beta.

Chapter 3

Stupidity got us into this mess, why can't it get us out?
-- Will Rogers

Severus Snape, seeing that he would get no further with the old man, simply turned on his heel and left the office with a terse, "As you wish it, Headmaster" floating behind him.

Dinner in the Great Hall the next night was a tense affair for Severus Snape. He entered as late as he dared through the double doors and stalked up the left side glaring at any of his Slytherins who had the audacity to stare back at him. He refused to make eye contact with the Headmaster despite noting the telltale presence of the Sorting Hat on the stool in front of the teachers' tables. It undoubtedly accounted for the higher than normal level of chatter audible throughout the Hall. His lips twisted into a sneer at the thought that the old man would truly go through with such a farce.

Albus Dumbledore rose from his chair and stood sedately in place. Beside him, Minerva McGonagall hastily tapped the side of her water glass to gain the students' attention. Despite having been made aware of the Headmaster's plan earlier in the day, her thin lips were pursed in a mew of disapproval.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," began the Headmaster. "I'm afraid we must temporarily postpone our delicious meal—I hear we're having roast pork—in favor of the matter at hand."

"It continues to come to my attention that interhouse rivalry is rampant, particularly among our second years." The Headmaster stopped and favored first Harry Potter then Draco Malfoy with a long gaze causing both boys to squirm uncomfortably in their seats.

"Repeated warnings do not seem to have changed behavior. The purpose of being Sorted is to group those students with like qualities to foster unity and a sense of family. Although we all possess qualities attributable to other houses, many aspects of our personality will seem to fit one house the best. Any attempts to undermine this process may lead to misery—known or unknown. Therefore, in the interests of any subversion that may have occurred in the beginning and to attempt to quell the tide of rivalry, I have decided to resort the second years tonight after dinner."

With the announcement made, the old Headmaster promptly clapped his hands and the usual appealing assortment of food appeared on the tables. He began to eat voraciously, completely oblivious to the malevolent gaze of his Potions Master and the incredulous stares of the second year students, including the slack-jawed gawp of one Harry Potter.

Harry tore his gaze away from the headmaster only to find it inadvertently snared by the glittering black eyes of the Potions Master. He shuddered at the loathing he saw there and pulled his eyes back to his food. He could still feel the heat of those eyes on the back of his head when he became aware of an elbow insistently burrowing in his ribs. He looked up to see Ron's pained face and Hermione's bright eyes narrowed in intense thought.

"D'ya hear that, mate? He's gone mental, that one. We've already been Sorted once and we didn't sub…, sub…, er, you know, try to hide anything! What's he mean?" Ron asked with righteous indignation. His head snapped up to Hermione as he heard her snort with derision.

"He means, Ron that someone obviously tried to influence the hat and ended up in the wrong House."

At Ron's continued look of befuddlement, she shook her head impatiently.

"Oh, really, Ronald," Hermione said. "The Headmaster thinks that some of us talked the Hat out of putting us in the right House."

Harry fidgeted in his seat restlessly at this which brought Hermione's sharp eyes to his. Thankfully, she did not press the advantage and he breathed a small sigh of relief as Ron's next words distracted her.

"Erm,what good will re-Sorting do at this point? I mean, whoever influenced the Hat the first time, why couldn't they do that again?"

"Obviously, the Headmaster has found a way to avoid that this time around." She swung her hair back fussily. "I wonder if I'll be in Ravenclaw this time around." Her eyes glazed slightly, probably in anticipation of the constant studying thought Harry.

Ron gaped at her. "Were you supposed to be in Ravenclaw the first time around?"

Hermione frowned and blushed slightly. "I don't think so. I didn't consciously try to persuade the Hat to put me in any one house. What about you, Ron? I don't suppose you wanted to be anywhere else? She phrased it as a half-hearted inquiry because everyone knew that all seven Weasley children had been sorted into Gryffindor.

Harry was again spared from having to partake in the conversation when the dinner dishes vanished from the table in a sparkle of magic. The Hall quieted eagerly in anticipation of the unexpected Sorting and Harry could feel a cold sweat break out up and down his spine. Would the Sorting Hat insist on Slytherin this time around? What would his friends think? Would they still be friends? They would if he had anything to say about it.

Harry and his year mates found themselves once again clustered in front of the teachers' tables waiting to be Sorted into their House. Last year, his breath was shallow with anxiety mixed with happy anticipation. This time, Harry found his breathing hampered by anger. Why was this happening now? What if he was forced into the snakes' den with his archenemy? What exactly was Dumbledore trying to prove?

Before he could speculate further, Professor McGonagall strode forth and stood beside the battered Hat. It obviously pained her to do so, yet she repeated the same words to them as she had last year. "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted, "she said (Rowling, J.K., 1997, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, p. 148).

Harry breathed a sigh of relief as he heard, "Bones, Susan" followed by the Sorting Hat's cry of "Hufflepuff". Well, at least some things hadn't changed. He couldn't picture Susan Bones anywhere else but Hufflepuff. She was simply too…well, loyal.

He then lost himself in the Sorting watching as one by one his year mates continued to be Sorted into their original houses. Even Malfoy snorted contemptuously as the Sorting Hat again exclaimed, "Slytherin" before it so much as touched a well-coifed strand of the silver-white hair.

Soon, only the Gryffindor Golden Trio remained. Of the three, the name, "Granger, Hermione" was called first. He watched Hermione walk with studied composure up to the stool, sit down and close her eyes briefly. His stomach clenched when the Hat shouted, "Ravenclaw" and Hermione's eyes flew open in surprise. She turned to McGonagall to protest but was stopped by the Professor's upraised hand.

"Please take a seat at your new house table, Miss Granger."

Hermione's eyes had an unexpected sheen of tears glossing them over and she looked at Harry and Ron beseechingly. Ron looked incredulous but Harry offered her a small smile even as his stomach continued to clench painfully. She attempted to smile back but the resulting grimace forced her to duck her head and walk unsteadily to the Ravenclaw table to the enthusiastic clapping of her new housemates and the jeers of the Slytherins. She sat down gingerly at the end of the table next to Luna Lovegood who smiled at her dreamily but Hermione's eyes continued to seek out his and Ron's as the next name was called, "Weasley, Ronald."

Ron, face pale and eyes wide, went to the stool and sat down. The Hat, much as it had with Draco Malfoy, barely touched his head when it stated, "Gryffindor!" Ron slumped on the stool comically and then made his way to Gryffindor where he glanced worriedly back and forth between Hermione at the Ravenclaw table and Harry standing last and alone before the Sorting Hat.

The Great Hall was silent and expectant as the last name for the unexpected Sorting was called, "Potter, Harry."

Severus Snape had watched the proceedings with a bored expression and a jaundiced eye. Despite the Know-it-all's change of House, every other second year had been returned to their original House. Last and in his eyes, least of all remained Harry-Bloody-Troublemaker-Potter. The only amusing thing aspect of the situation was the brat's discomfiture. Showing no signs of the famed Gryffindor courage, Harry Potter was shifting nervously and casting longing glances hinting at escapist fantasies at the side doors. He barely contained his sigh of annoyance when the boy all but stumbled onto the stool looking shaken and scared and proceeded to grip the sides of the stool with a death grip. He allowed himself a brief moment of woolgathering in which he imagined how he would have handled the boy had he been one of his Snakes.

Severus Snape had no more than that one brief moment because when the Sorting Hat shouted, "Slytherin", his heart faltered to a stop before starting again at a furious pace. That same furious pace pumped the blood which flooded his muscles and propelled the Potions Master's desire to be up and out of his chair. Only his many years of discipline as both a Death Eater at the mercy of an insane wizard and a spy in the employ of another most certainly insane wizard, kept him in his seat. The resultant frustrated adrenaline rush left him just as pale and shaken as the Brat-Who-Lived-To-Cause-Trouble.