Disclaimer: Please don't sue me.

/wat

"I know you're stronger than this."

"N-no, you're wrong. I can't do anything right. I'm only good at Herbology because Gran had me help her with her gardens..."

"Tut, tut! That's not what I mean."

"What do you mean, then?"

"You are a wizard. Even the weakest of our race possess the potential to rule the world. I'm not telling you to shirk everything you know about yourself, I'm just informing you that you're wasting yourself. Hey, do me a favor: For one day, be the kind of person you'd like to be. Just pretend. I think you'll be surprised how well that skin will fit you. Oh, also, could you read something for me...?"

I hate children, mused Snape as his Gryffindor/Slytherin firsties filed into their seats. Being a professor at Hogwarts offered one a great deal of protection – in fact, Snape was practically invincible – but lately he was unsure if it was worth the price. Snape had never liked kids, even when he was a kid. They always seemed to loud. Too stupid, too snotty, oddly sweaty and extremely irrational. Everything Snape resented.

It only got worse as he aged and became less and less of a child. Now he was in his thirties, and regarding children with disdain previously unfathomable. This year was particularly bad because Harry oh-so-special Potter was at Hogwarts. Little arse went right ahead and made himself a House, then neglected to attend any classes at all.

At least Snape rarely had to see the boy. In fact, he'd spied him only once or twice since the Sorting Ceremony, so maybe this year wasn't too-

Oh, Merlin, Harry Potter had decided to attend his classes.

Potter went and made himself comfy beside a delighted Gryffindor girl – a book-smart Muggleborn by the name Hermione Granger. Snape had recently been taking a liking to her, as she was bright and actually happy to pay attention is class, but now that he knew she was on good terms with Harry Potter...

His lip curled into a snarl as the bell tolled and class began. The pupils fell silent as Snape arose, a silhouette against the blackboard behind him, looming over their prepubescent heads. He grabbed a thin piece of chalk and began writing upon the board in swift, spidery letters. Snape made sure it was extra-dramatic. Potter had to understand that, no matter what promises he had made to Dumbledore, Snape hated him. If he could communicate this through how vehemently he wrote, than it would be a good day for Severus Snape.

"Today, I had planned for all of you ludicrous fools to attempt brewing a moderately simple potion," Snape began in a rumbling voice, putting careful emphasis on all of his syllables, "but seeing as how the..." Here he turned to face the class. "... esteemed Mr. Potter has finally decided to grace us with his awe-inspiring presence..."

"You're making me blush," Harry stated, actually blushing a bit.

Snape prattled on as if no interruption had occurred. "... I believe we should try something special."

Hermione looked over-the-moon at the notion of "something special" in Potions class, but she was alone in this. Even the Slytherins looked rather sick. It was true that Snape would be forgiving, them being his of his own House and all, but they still didn't want to challenge themselves. At least not on their own terms.

Draco, ringleader of first-year Slytherins, spoke up. "I have an idea, Professor Snape," he said. "How about: Potter makes up for all the work he's missed the past few weeks, and we all do what you had planned for today?"

"I have an even better idea, Professor Snape," Neville piped up. Suddenly, all eyes were on him. Since first laying eyes upon Severus Snape, Neville Longbottom had been too terrified to even sit up straight in Potions. Needless to say, Snape was quite shocked by the boy's sudden burst of courage.

Ugh, the foul stench of self-esteem, thought Snape glumly, but before he could berate Neville, the young boy went on. "I think we should just forget Potions class altogether and talk about the New Religion," said Neville. His voice was growing in strength.

Everyone caught Harry's delighted giggle, but they were still too engrossed by Neville's sudden manifest of bravery. "Ten points from Gryffindor," snapped Snape, but Neville was not deterred.

He stood up and retrieved a few pieces of parchment from his robes. "The New Religion is a cult – to use a crude term – led by our esteemed Mr. Potter. This New Religion promises prosperity, power, and knowledge," Neville read. His voice was firm and steady now, though his fingers shook with nerves.

"This is ridiculous," seethed Snape. "Another ten points from Gryffindor. Mr. Longbottom, if you do not sit down this very instant, I shall not hesitate to doll out a detention."

But Neville had gotten a taste of what it was like to have his way, to be heard, and he wasn't going to let it go so soon. "Shirk your present lords and masters, and swear yourselves to the all-powerful, always-watching Cipher. Your House system is flawed, your sports are a distraction from the truth, your leaders are sheep, and Heaven and Hell are on the brink of war. For the price of your soul, you could be on the victorious side," Neville continued.

Harry clapped as the Longbottom finished, and Neville sat down, looking rather pale but quite proud of himself. Snape gritted his teeth. "Fifty points from Gryffindor and..." He trailed off, glaring at Harry.

The boy smiled something charming – and frankly, a little unnerving – at Snape and supplied, "Cipher, naturally. Cipher House."

Snape scowled. "Longbottom, Potter, detention for both of you. Moving on..." Snape went on to passive-aggressively lecture about the potion they would be brewing, thinking of how he would word this when he reported the incident to Dumbledore. Harry Potter, manipulating a meek boy into spreading propaganda during class... Surely the old fool couldn't ignore that.

What Snape didn't realize was that Neville's episode was no mere one-time side-effect of having a weak will. A small fire was burning in the pit of Neville's stomach, and he loved the way it felt. And the other students could tell, and the other students' minds were reeling, and the other students started to think: Neville Longbottom stood up to Professor Snape? For Potter's cult?

Draco Malfoy, who had been raised to always seek power and influence and masters who can win, found this very interesting. Hermione Granger, who saw what Harry's influence did for Neville's self-esteem, was starting to rethink her previous stance on Harry's cult. Ron Weasley, who hated Snape, was already fantasizing about all the possible ways to hate Snape more effectively. And over the course of the day, little whispers would spread. Little rumors would mutate over the hours. They became tall-tales.

By supper, Pansy Parkinson was telling her friends of how Neville spat in Snape's face. By supper, Cho Chang was listening to a version wherein a duel broke out. By supper, Fred and George had fabricated a tale about Harry and Neville teaming up to knock Snape around, Muggle-style.

By supper, Harry had a good two-thirds of first-year souls in his pocket.

All according to plan.

AN/ I'm just gonna be honest and say I have NO IDEA where the hell this is going, but so far it seems sufficient as far as plot goes. I think.