Severus Snape sat in his preferred seat at the Slytherin table waiting for the sorting to begin, the seat furthest away from the Head Dais facing out towards the other houses. Although traditionally this side of the table was populated by younger years his seat gave him a clear view of the entire hall. Also, counting no one amongst the seventh year Slytherins a 'friend,' eating alone was indeed a blessing. Alone was a relative term, but to date no first or second year had ever tried to engage him in conversation. He counted this silence as close enough.
It was hard to fathom that this was his last year at Hogwarts and apart from vague stress over upcoming NEWTs he couldn't conjure any strong feelings one way or the other on the matter. Whether he felt truly apathetic or it was residual numbness from his Occlumency training was unknown. After last year's incident he realized Dumbledore was a powerful Legilimens and so he devoted a great deal of time over the summer to learning the mind arts. While still of novice skill he was improving and his books all warned emotional numbness was a possible side effect of dedicated practice. Numbness or no, closing his mind had certainly helped alleviate fear after any night terrors involving werewolves.
A commotion at the Gryffindor table caused his gaze to wander to the werewolf in question. Sirius Black was ruffling a sheepish Remus Lupin's hair and roaring with laugher and he felt a hot bubble of rage rise from his stomach to his chest. So no, the apathy was probably not caused by Occlumency then.
The hall doors opened and in filed several terrified eleven year olds headed by Professor McGonagall. He watched their procession with a mixture of pity and contempt. 'How was I ever that young?'
McGonagall made it to the front of the room with the group and the room felt tense in anticipation. Until the ragged hat ripped at the brim and began to sing it's song.
Another year, another batch
Of promising young minds
To peek inside and to dissect
And then to sort in kind.
For those of you strong, brave and true
It's off to Gryffindor.
For those who wish to hone sharp wit
Ravenclaw is in store.
And if I find you loyal and kind
Hufflepuff's where you'll go
And if your mission deals in ambition
Slytherin's where you'll grow.
Another year, another batch
More first years do approach
But all be warned, for once again
I feel I must reproach.
This antiquated system is
Wrought with inequity.
Every year we choose division
Instead of unity.
Alas I'm just a hat, I know
The sorting cannot halt.
I can but hope you'll heed these words
This warning's worth it's salt.
It's rivalry it's prejudice
It's ideas preconceived
That runs deep rifts before friendship
Can even be achieved.
Your house may be your family, but
Please do not isolate.
These words are for everyone here,
It is never too late
To heal our wounds, to stop our feuds,
To extend olive branch.
And when faced with the unforeseen
I implore: take the chance.
Dark has settled over our time
So when life seems beyond repair
Know child it is never too late,
You'll find redemption if you dare.
He could hear the whispers rippling across the hall but ignored them, opting instead to give the most half-hearted applause he could muster. Another year another predicable song: warnings, and threats, and pleas for unity. For all it prattled on about it was fairly obvious how batty you'd have to be to follow the advice of a hat. As his mother used to say, "Never trust anything if you can't tell where it keeps its' brain." Thinking of his mother though immediately brought up the feelings again of sorrow and guilt and emptine-. He immediately squashed the train of thought and spent the rest of the sorting emptying his mind.
When he emerged from the refuge of his mental shields the feast was nearly over. Most of the first years had started on pudding. He fixed his plate with what remained of the dinner dishes and began to eat as Dumbledore stood to make his annual announcements. The hall fell silent.
"To our newcomers welcome and to our returning students welcome back. A new year of magical education begins again. Now for a few start of term notices-"
As Dumbledore nattered Severus couldn't help but sneer. United indeed. What gall did the Sorting Hat have to give a lecture about unity when even the Headmaster is a biased fool? What gall did Dumbledore have to put on his kind grandfather façade at the beginning of every year? He looked at the newcomers sitting around the Slytherin table. Oh well, the other three houses may live in denial but Slytherins learned the truth soon enough.
"-And I am pleased to welcome our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Eugene Wimbley."
A short, thin, balding, man, whose glasses seemed too big for his face made to rise. He stood too quickly though and spilt his pumpkin juice all over his robes. A collective snicker went through the hall. He flushed and gave a timid wave before sitting back down. Dumbledore gave a tight smile with no warmth behind it. "Professor Wimbley has been appointed by the Minister of Magic himself to enforce the new approved Defense curriculum. It is my regret to inform said curriculum will stress bookwork and will no longer use a hands-on approach due to certain… new Ministry policies in response to current events."
This announcement set another wave of whispers around the hall and Snape quirked an eyebrow. Interesting, the Ministry was so afraid Hogwarts could train potential Death Eaters it decided to strip the curriculum all together. How foolish.
Dumbledore raised his hand and waited for the whispering to subside before brightening his entire demeanor. "I am also pleased to introduce this year's Head Boy and Girl. James Potter and Lily Evans from Gryffindor." He gestured to the Gryffindor table where the two stood and waved Lily blushing slightly and James giving a cocky smile to the whole room. As James and Lily sat back down Severus slid his scowl back into place. Lily deserved the title, but Potter? What a travesty. Not to mention those two were sitting too close for his liking. He watched as Potter leaned into Lily and whispered something in her ear, stupid grin still plastered on his face. She sunk into her seat beet red and smiling. His scowl deepened.
"-But now, your beds await, and lessons begin tomorrow. Let us therefore say good night!"
With that dismissal Severus wasted no time exiting the hall. Another advantage to sitting with the younger years, he was next to an exit. He slipped out the side door and began his descent into the dungeons. This route was unknown to the majority of his housemates and thus not only was he spared the collective pilgrimage to Slytherin house, he also arrived first. Wilkes, a prefect, had informed him of the password on the train.
"Cras es Noster." The flat stonewall slid out of the way and he made his way to his new rooms.
Soon after dressing in his nightclothes his roommates entered the dorm.
"Fuck Snape," Mulciber said while rummaging through his trunk, "All these years and I still can't figure out how you get down to the bloody dungeons so fast. The halls are a fuckin' zoo. Every year I tell you it's bad form to keep it to yourself."
Severus continued browsing through his stack of books unperturbed, "A man is entitled to his secrets Mulciber." He grabbed one and began to read.
Mulciber snorted. "Pierce, Eric, Evan. Hols Alright?"
Pierce Avery, Eric Wilkes and Evan Rosier all nodded in assent. "Yes, hols were good Gregor. Very eventful." Avery replied lips curling up at the word eventful and exchanged a significant look with Mulciber. Snape continued reading while the four continued their inane conversation about summer break. Unlike the four others, his inclusion in this group wasn't at all based on friendship. Theirs was a Slytherin relationship, founded on what could be given and what could be received. Malfoy had already proven the benefits of being a part of Mulciber's circle. He would be a fool to abandon it.
"Oi, swot I'm talking to you," A ball of socks thrown by Mulciber hit Snape in the face interrupting his reading. The four boys snickered as Severus carefully marked his page and gestured at Mulciber to continue. Levitating the socks back to Mulciber's open trunk.
"Saw you at Malfoy's wedding Snape, but didn't hear from you after that. Heard that was the first time you met the Dark Lord pretty impressive yeah?" At the mention of the wedding Snape's eyes glittered and his lips quirked upwards. Yes. The Dark Lord had been impressive indeed. The four boys in the room took the nonverbal answer for what it was and grinned in turn.
"I remember the first time my father introduced us, they graduated together you know! I was young, not even in Hogwarts yet…" As Avery told his story yet again Severus allowed his thoughts to wander back to the wedding. The elegance of the manor courtyard, the white peacocks on the lawn, the high society, Narcissa's expensive acromantula silk robes and Lucius' tailored… tight… trousers… He licked his lips at the memory. Then the Dark Lord shook his hand, showered him with high praise and expectations. For the first time all evening he hadn't felt out of place in his patched, three inches too short dress robes. He felt worthy.
Avery ended his story and Mulciber turned back to him. "So what were you doing after the wedding Snape, we tried to extend you a meeting invitation, but couldn't get in touch. Lucius was concerned."
The warm feeling of the wedding's memory quickly left him feeling cold. Severus resumed his mask.
"I was otherwise engaged. My parents passed away a few weeks after the wedding. I was getting affairs in order. It was unexpected."
"Well that's some shite Snape, only thing worse than wasted time is wasted hols. Especially if that time is lost on a dead Muggle and Blood Traitor." Mulciber stated flippantly as the other three nodded their agreement. Snape grabbed his book again and began to read unwilling to continue this conversation. He felt nothing for the Muggle but something about hearing his mum referred to as a blood traitor set his blood boiling. A feeling he was unwilling to examine the reasons for.
It was awful, walking in on the scene. He had just returned from a grocery run and they were both slumped over dead at the kitchen table almost unrecognizable without their usual expressions. His mother's face looked ten years younger no longer tightened in worry and fear. And his father looked like a different person with neither a scowl nor a frown nor a face red with rage.
Neither the Muggle authorities nor the MLE could determine the cause of death, but he suspected his mum finally got tired of the beatings and knowing her couldn't stomach the idea of being without the stupid bastard. She might have gotten her wand snapped by the creature she was married to, but his talent for potions was inherited. Eileen Snape knew how to kill without a trace. But it hurt she left too. She didn't even bother leaving him a note and he had to deal with the wizard and Muggle authorities for the remaining two months of break. One thing was certain though. Only one murder had been committed in that house. Tobias Snape killed his mother's spirit years ago. Her physical death was certainly a release.
The funeral was a quiet affair. He didn't even attend. The only people coming were Tobias' work mates and nothing could force him to deal with them ever again. He spent the day in his room alone reinforcing his Occlumency shields.
He suddenly heard a "Nox" from Rosier and darkness flooded the dormitory. Severus placed his book on the nightstand and drew his curtains settling down for sleep. Tossing and turning away from the awful memories he sought to recall instead how it felt to be honored in the Dark Lord's presence, sinking deeper into the memory of power and prestige. As sleep called him into oblivion his thoughts curiously wandered to the sorting hat's song.
What could a hat know of redemption?
A/N 'Cras es Noster' the Slytherin dormitory password is latin for 'The Future is Ours'