Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, no matter how much I wish I did.

Chapter Eleven: The First Morning

Harry awoke much earlier than he'd have liked. He was unable to get back to sleep, though, and simply lay in bed, staring at the canopy of his four poster.

When the others began to awake, he pretended to be asleep, hoping that he could feign just long enough to avoid talking with them. Sadly, this wasn't the case.

"Get up, Potter," said the voice from the night before. Harry opened his eyes, and looked towards the owner of the voice.

It was Theodor Nott. The boy had a look of unquestioned loathing on his face. Harry spent a few moments trying to decide it the look suited him. He really couldn't imagine him smiling.

"I'm not going to wake you up every morning," drawled Nott. He walked away from the bed, muttering things like 'Shiftless' and 'No good' under his breath.

Harry got out from under the covers only to find he was still in his robes from the night before. He tried to be discreet as he changed. No one seemed to be paying much attention to him anyway.

As he pulled out fresh robes, he found a stack of silver and green ties, obviously meant to be a part of his uniform. He looked around to the other boys to see how they tied them, because he had never done it.

He gained a rough knowledge from watching Blaise Zabini, who was the only one tieing slow enough for him to watch. The others looked like they put on ties every day of their life, and the movments they used where so sudden that he couldn't see them. It was much like a trick he'd seen where you hold one lace from your trainer in one hand, hold the other lace in the other hand and cross them. If you did it right, you came away with a perfect bow.

Unable to see the knot, but able to feel it, Harry estimated that it was at least presentable.

"Can't even tie a tie, Potter?" came the drawl of Draco Malfoy. He walked over to Harry and undid the knot, lacing it back up and pulling to up so quickly, Harry gagged. "Keep on screwing up like that, and Snape'll have us up by our toes. Come on, then."

And with that, they exited the dormitories to face the castle for the first true time.

As this was going on, Snape was pacing in Dumbledore's office, angry at the man for a reason he hadn't expected. His request, no, plea, for Harry to get resorted had fallen on deaf ears. Worse then deaf, rebuking. He didn't slow his pacing as he recounted the conversation, trying to make sense of what he was being told.

He had stepped into the Headmaster's office at half past five to ask about the resorting. Dumbledore had been waiting for him, it seemed, because the topic didn't even cause a wavering in the twinkling of the old man's eyes.

"We need to talk about Mr. Potter's placement in my house, Dumbledore," he said, getting to the quick of the talk. Dumbledore nodded patiently.

"Go on, Severus," said the old Headmaster. Even before he spoke, Snape saw the futility in his reasoning.

"I feel that Mr. Potter's welfare is at stake," began Snape. He had yet to take a seat. Dumbledore motioned for him to. He sat, and conintued. "In a House where he is surrounded by the children of Death Eaters, I can hardly assume he will stay safe, even under my watch."

Dumbledore seemed to consider this, but said nothing. Snape went on.

"Hardly had the term started when he was tripped by an older student, and his glasses were mangled after several others trod on them."

Dumbledore smiled madeningly. "Surely, Severus, this is not the worse thing that could happen? His glasses should have been easily repaired."

Snape met his smile with a cold glare. "And what of the phychological effect of that kind of torment? The boy was raised as a Muggle. Such an act in that world, where that damage is irreparable, would be abhored."

Dumbledore nodded again, but didn't speak. Snape was really wishing he would.

"He was also deniged food at the table at the Start of term Feast, and subsisted on a single roll." This seemed to do the trick, but only just. A small frown crossed Dumbledore's face, but then it was gone. Now he knew what it felt like to be on the outside looking in, as it were, for anyone who had tried to sway him, only to have the emotions tucked away. It was quite infurriating.

"Either way," continued Snape, "I see no reason why we could not resort Mr. Potter into a house where he would most likely have friends. Where at least he has a chanse of a non-traumatising school career."

Dumbledore chose then to speak directly, and with more seeming consideration than he had before. "Firstly, Severus, it is impossible to resort Harry. Sortings are final, even magically binding." Snape rubbed his temples.

"Furthermore," continued Dumbldore,"I very much doubt that Harry would gain friends now that they all know he belonged to your house first. No matter where he goes, he will always be, to use your charming nickname, a snake."

Snape's shoulders slumped. Dumbledore was right. Of course Dumbledore was right. "What will happen to him, Albus?" he asked. Dumbledore straightened up in his chair.

"Not what you'd expect, I'm sure. When one is in dire straights, one often finds the best quilities of themselves, hiden, as it were."

Snape looked down and rubbed his eyes like he hadn't slept in days. "You mean to tell me that you plan to throw Potter to the lion's den, and simply hope he will come out better for the experiance?"

"That is exactly it, however I think the term Snake Pit might be better suited in this case." He gave another of those smiles.

Snape got out of his chair and paced. Back and forth, back and forth, as though bidden to worry a line in the floor.

He finished his contemplation at the sudden realization that he had nothing to say, and simply left. Dumbledore gave the helpful recomendation of trying the pancakes at breakfast, as the house elves had quite mastered the recipie.

AN: So begins the first day at Hogwarts for young Harry. To the countless couple of you that were ready to skin me alive if I tried to resport Harry, don't worry, it was never my intention. Just a set up for that talk/flashback deal up there. He will remain a Slytherin. Auf Wiedersehen.