Chapter Three - First Week at Hogwarts

On the official first day of school, Evangeline woke up bright and early, bouncing out of bed and changing into her Gryffindor uniform. She brushed her hair, making sure not a strand was out of place, and that she had everything she needed tucked away neatly into her school bag. After that, Evangeline made her way down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

On her way to her first class, Evangeline passed by her fellow Gryffindors, Ron Weasley and Harry Potter, getting threatened by the caretaker, Argus Filch, for attempting to enter the out-of-bounds corridor. Having met the caretaker and engaged in a somewhat delightful conversation after being caught giving water and a good scratch behind the ear to his cat, Mrs Norris, on her way to breakfast, Evangeline managed to convince Filch not to punish the boys. As the two made their way to Evangeline's first class, chatting about family and problem students, Ron and Harry trailed behind with confused expressions. They had heard Filch was an unpleasant man and that many wanted to kick his cat, but now they wondered how true it was.

Their theory was quickly squashed when the caretaker, not so subtly, advised Evangeline to stay away from them as she was "too nice of a girl to be cavorting with hooligans such as those two".

Evangeline politely nodded with a small smile, saying, "I'll be sure to keep that in mind," before entering her class, quickly followed by Ron and Harry, who received a distrustful glare from Filch.

Using the directions her father gave her, Evangeline didn't have as terrible a time navigating Hogwarts as the other first years. She knew about the stairs that would lead to somewhere different on a Friday and the ones with a vanishing step, the doors that you had to open in a specific way and the ones that aren't doors at all. Evangeline did her best to remember everything, not be late to class, and take excellent notes - seeing as she's in Gryffindor, she figures she'll have to do a lot to stay in her father's good graces.

The last thing Evangeline wanted was to be on the other end of his sharp tongue.

Her most boring class was History of Magic, which was taught by a ghost named Professor Binns - he had a very dull, monotone voice that left everyone falling asleep. Evangeline's father had told her that the professor had been extremely old when he fell asleep in front of a staffroom fire two centuries ago, and it surprised everyone when he left his body to continue teaching. Her father had warned her to not expect much from Professor Quirrell's class as, in his words, Quirrell is a coward who knows nothing about the Dark Arts. Evangeline assumed he just hated the professor for getting the job he wanted, but that was partially the case – Quirrell's lessons were a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, he turned pink and started talking about the weather when Seamus asked how he defeated a zombie, and Evangeline could swear there was another reason as to why he wore his turban other than it being a gift from an African prince. Evangeline's favorite class was Transfiguration, right after Charms and Astronomy. Professor McGonagall reminded her of her father, except she was much more fair. After having them take complicated notes, she gave them a match and had them attempt to turn it into a needle. By the end of that lesson, Evangeline and Hermione were the only ones who made any difference to their match.

The day Evangeline dreaded the most finally came: Friday.

Now, for most people Friday is the most wonderful day of the week, as it signifies the beginning of two days of relaxation before being thrust into stressful long hours; but for Evangeline, it marks the day where she has to go to Potions and face her father, the formidable authoritarian, Severus Snape.

"Double Potions with the Slytherins," said Ron, breaking Evangeline out of her anxiety-filled trance. His statement just made her more worried. "Snape's Head of Slytherin House. They say he always favors them — we'll be able to see if it's true."

"He does favor them," Evangeline firmly states, her head leaning against her hand as she massages her temple. Her other hand caresses her locket, her fingers running over the snake engraved on it.

"How do you know?" Ron asks curiously, turning his head towards her.

"I - I've seen him be less strict with them." She immediately stuffs her face with egg and sausages to avoid continuing the conversation.

"Wish McGonagall favored us," said Harry. Professor McGonagall was the Head of Gryffindor House, but that didn't stop her from giving them a huge pile of homework that Evangeline finished just to stop thinking about opening the letter her father sent her.

The moment Evangeline remembered the letter she had been refusing to open, the mail arrived. Her barn owl, Doúkissa, swooped down, landing beside her plate and dropping three letters onto her lap – one from her mother, one from her brother, and one from her father. She stared tentatively at her father's letter, which sat on top of the pile, staring back with her name written in cursive black ink. Glancing towards the High Table to make sure Snape wasn't looking, Evangeline slips her father's letter into her bag, pushing it towards the bottom, where it'd end up rumpled.

Evangeline has been avoiding her father for the entire week. Every time she saw him in the hallway, she'd duck down in a crowd of students, go down another corridor, or just turn around and find another way to class.

In the back of her mind, she knows it isn't right to ignore her father like this. Before Hogwarts, the two were like peas in a pod, and no one would be wrong in assuming Evangeline was a daddy's girl. She was able to trust him with anything, to go to him for anything, and expect that he would always be there for her, so how can she just ignore him like this?

Guilt welled up inside of her, simmering and bubbling with the notion of a possibly destroyed bond - either from her ignoring him or him hating her for being a Gryffindor.

The guilt grew as she stood up to leave for his class and suddenly remembered one of the nicknames he referred to her by. "My little miracle".

Trailing behind the other first-year Gryffindors and Slytherins, Evangeline made her way down to the dungeons, going as slowly as she could so that the front seats would all be taken. As she expected, they were. Evangeline hurriedly took the seat in the far corner, away from the door, placing her notebook, quill, and ink in front of her before putting her head down and waiting for Professor Snape to arrive.

In just a few seconds, the class quieted down as the professor arrived, swinging the door open and sternly stating, "There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class."

Evangeline lifted her head, but not enough to sit upright. Her eyes glanced up at her father, who stood at the front of the class by his desk and towered over the first-years. Staring up at him, she could feel her distress rising. The paranoia eating away at her as she imagined being dumped at an orphanage by the end of the school year, or worse, sometime during Christmas Break.

Evangeline's gaze turned to her notebook, forcing herself to focus on the blue horizontal lines, red vertical lines, and trying not to cry; being glad her long hair would hide the tears that hydrated her eyes.

"As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making. However, for those select few - " Snape paused in his sentence, his dark eyes having spotted his daughter sitting in the far corner with her head down. Almost immediately, he knew something was wrong. " - who possesses the predisposition," he continued, his gaze hardly wavering from his child, "I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death."

"Then again," Evangeline froze, her grip tightening on the sleeve of her robe as she firmly shut her eyes, "maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts in possession of abilities so formidable that you feel confident enough to not pay attention."

She didn't look up, hoping he wasn't talking to her and she wouldn't end up embarrassing her family further by dropping like a stack of cards. For her sake, she was right.

"Mr Potter, our new celebrity." Draco Malfoy and his friends, Crabbe and Goyle, sniggered behind their hands, knowing Harry was about to have a very bad morning. "Tell me what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Hermione's hand shot up into the air, but Snape waited for Harry to answer. Harry glanced at Ron with a confused look, but didn't answer.

"You don't know? Let's try again. Where, Mr Potter, would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?"

"I don't know, sir," Harry softly replied.

"And what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Hermione raised her hand so high it almost touched the ceiling. "I don't know, sir," Harry said again.

"Pity. Clearly, fame isn't everything, is it, Mr Potter?"

"Clearly, Hermione knows," Harry cheekily replies, irritated at being expected to know things like that on his first day of class. "Seems a pity not to ask her." Yes, he had looked through his books, but did Snape truly expect him to remember everything he read?

His reply garnered chuckles from a few of his peers. "Silence," Snape ordered, glaring at Harry. That the boy is just like his father, he thought angrily. Seeing that Hermione still had her hand up, he snapped at her, "Put your hand down, you silly girl."

Then, Snape's gaze slowly shifted to his daughter. Evangeline was daydreaming at this point, having gotten distracted by a particular block in the wall that she had thought looked like a face. Now, she was staring intently at a strand of her hair, wondering if it was much curlier than the others before checking if there were any dead or split ends.

"Ms Prince," Snape's sharp tone made Evangeline's heart skip a beat. She moved her hair behind her ear and looked up at the professor. "Tell me, where would I find a bezoar?"

"I-in the st-stomach of a goat," she answered, shrinking under everyone's gaze.

A prideful smirk tugged at Snape's lips. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"A sleeping potion."

"Name?"

"Draught of Living Death."

Harry's eyes slightly widened in admiration as he sat up to get a better look at Evangeline, a smirk tugging at his lips. Snape noticed this, and could feel his blood boil at the thought of this boy fancying and pursuing his daughter.

Taking a few steps forward, he blocks Harry's view of Evangeline. "And now, what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane? Potter was incapable of answering with anything other than impudence, which has now lost your House five points. Surely, you can win those points back."

Evangeline gulps, lightly nodding as she thinks over the question. However, after a few minutes, she found her train of thought derailing and bustling to another station. Snape recognized the far-off look on his daughter's face - something he had grown used to over the years - and he hoped she wouldn't get it in her other classes.

When it was clear that Evangeline had entirely forgotten what Snape had asked her, he tapped her notebook and repeated his question, "Difference between monkshood and wolfsbane."

"Huh? Oh, right. There's no difference. They're the same plant and go by a third name, aconite – that came out ruder than I expected."

Snape suppressed the urge to praise her. "At least one of you Gryffindors has some intelligence. Five points to Gryffindor."

The bell rings, signaling the end of class.

Evangeline began packing up her bag, the voice in her head reminding her that she has the afternoon off. One of the places she had been meaning to see in Hogwarts was the Black Lake. She had always liked bodies of water for some reason; they made her feel safe and strangely . . . powerful. Unfortunately, her hopes of spending the rest of her afternoon sitting by the Black Lake were crushed when she heard, "Please stay after class, Ms Prince. We have much to talk about."

"I apologize, professor, but I have a lot to do," she nervously laughs, shouldering her bag. "Mountains of homework, and –"

"I insist," Snape firmly says, his stern tone not going unheard as he blocks her path. "If you use your time wisely, you'll have all of Saturday and Sunday to finish your homework."

"Yes, but - "

"Let me rephrase, Evangeline Prince. As your professor, I am insisting that you stay after class to have a discussion with me about your recent behavior - " he leans down, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper " - and as your father, if you don't wish to remain grounded for the foreseeable future, I advise that you stay. Am I clear?"

"Yes, fath - I mean, sir."

As the last of the students filed out of the classroom, the Slytherins taunting words about how in trouble Evangeline was dying down, Snape guided his daughter out of the classroom and to his office. She stood in front of the round table, looking at the shadowy shelves that housed more of her father's collection of jars filled with slimy, revolting things.

Snape lit the fireplace, waving his wand in a quick motion. A wooden chair slid across the floor, stopping next to the one in front of the fireplace. "Sit," he ordered, gesturing to the chair.

Evangeline obediently sat down, placing her bag at her feet and messing with the strap. This was a habit she'd do when she was bored or nervous, and right now, nervousness was all she could feel. Time seemed to slow as Snape brewed and poured a cup of tea, adding Evangeline's anxiety medication to one of the brews. The sound of the spoon clinking against the cup as he stirred was all Evangeline could focus on until her father would soon inform her she wasn't his daughter anymore, that he hated her, that he now thought less of her for being a Gryffindor, and that she was –

Teacup in hand, Snape became increasingly worried at her fast-paced, shaky breathing and how tightly her trembling hands held onto the strap of her bag. He could just tell she was on the verge of a panic attack.

He pressed it gently to her lips. "Drink this - it's your medicine."

Snape made sure his daughter drank every last drop, and made a mental note to ask his wife to send over all of Evangeline's medication as she'd need it after all.

Snape sat down in his chair, waiting for the medication to take its effects before he spoke with her about the situation at hand. Once Evangeline's breathing had slowed and she seemed a bit calmer, Snape asked in a clipped tone, "Where were you on Monday?"

She thought for a moment. "I had double Herbology and Charms. Why?"

"You had a two hour break between classes and dinner, did you not?"

Not knowing where this conversation was heading, Evangeline answered with a confused, "Yeah?"

"So, you had time to come visit me?"

Evangeline was now more confused, and while it was plain on her face, her father mistook it for guilt. Her stammered response was quickly cut off by, "I knew I should've expected you weren't coming when I didn't get a response from you, but I assumed you were just too tired and had simply forgotten. Still, I expected you to at least pop in. Care to explain what kept you?"

"I - I had a lot of work to do," she lied.

Snape narrowed his eyes, feeling a mixture of anger and disbelief that his daughter would dare lie to him. "Really? So much so that you couldn't spare a minute to spend time with your own father?" Evangeline doesn't answer, looking away to stare at the ground. He sighs. "You've been avoiding me. Don't think I haven't noticed."

Evangeline wasn't being very subtle with how she avoided her father.

Snape kneeled beside Evangeline, gently grabbing her chin and turning her head to face him. "Evangeline, darling, look at me," he says, his voice low and soft, a stark contrast from how he normally spoke. "What is the matter? Don't tell me you're fine, I know something is wrong. This - this thing you're doing - avoiding me - it is unlike you. Did those nasty Gryffindors do something to you? Did they hurt you? I swear if those brats touched a hair on your head –"

She shakes her head. "No! No, they didn't do anything."

"Are you sure? Even if they used their words, I'll make sure they get detention and regret insulting you."

"Yes, I'm sure. I - " Evangeline couldn't get her words out. She wasn't sure how to tell him how she felt, how she was afraid he'd abandon her.

Suddenly, Snape grabbed his daughter's face, forcing her to meet his eyes before firmly objecting, his harsh tone barely hiding the hurt he felt, "I would never abandon you."

Evangeline's eyes widened slightly in surprise, wondering how he figured out what was bothering her without her saying so. Then, it hit her. Her father was a skilled legilimens. He didn't use the skill often, but if he felt she, her brother, or her mother was hiding something important from him, he would take a quick peek before deciding if he should intervene.

His grip on her face softened, his thumb beginning to stroke her cheek as the pain became as clear as day in his eyes. Snape's hands moved to grasp her small ones, his voice much softer now with a hint of fear peeking through, "What in the name of Merlin put that dreadful thought into your head?"

"I - I thought you'd start hating me after the hat sorted me into Gryffindor," she answered sadly, her voice cracking in the middle of her sentence. "I thought you'd get rid of me."

"What? No, no, never." Snape wraps his arms around her, pulling her against his chest and stroking her hair. "I could never get rid of you. Especially for such a ridiculous reason as you getting sorted into Gryffindor."

"But you hate Gryffindor," she sobs into his chest.

"Yes, but not you," he emphasized, caressing her cheek "There is a difference, Evangeline. I could never hate you, even if you are a Gryffindor."

After a few minutes, Evangeline mumbled, "The hat said I wasn't suited for Slytherin." Her voice was so soft that Snape wasn't sure if he heard her.

"What was that?"

"The hat said I wasn't suited for Slytherin. It said I was more of a Hufflepuff or Gryffindor."

"I'm sor–" Snape pulled her away from him, wiping away her tears with his thumb. Confusion welled up inside of him, followed by a simmering frustration at the absurdity of what he was hearing. "What do you mean not suited for Slytherin? And . . . Hufflepuff? You could've been placed in Hufflepuff, and the Sorting Hat decides bloody Gryffindor as your House?"

Snape abruptly stands up, pacing around the room as he grumbles under his breath, cursing out the Sorting Hat and its "foolish" decision. He wondered aloud how his daughter could not be suitable for Slytherin. He complained how Hufflepuff would've been a better choice for his "precious, little girl," due to their dedication, kindness, and loyalty, and he firmly believed Evangeline would've also flourished in Ravenclaw. "I doubt gymnastics and all those sports you played had anything to do with it," he mumbled bitterly, "none of them had anything to do with wizardry. I bet that stupid, conniving, insipid hat wanted to ruin my life all over again, just as it did when - "

He paused when he realized he wasn't making the situation any better by ranting. Evangeline's sobs, while quiet, were heavy, and she cried more tears than she could wipe away. Snape rushed to her side, cradling her in his arms and consoling her as best he could.

"I am not angry that you are in Gryffindor," he reminds her, kissing her forehead. "I do not hate you, and I will never abandon you. I realize there are worse things than you being placed in Gryffindor, my dear." Evangeline let out a long, shaky breath, leaning against her father's chest as her worries slipped away.

The two stayed on the floor until dinner. For that entire time, Snape didn't let go of his daughter and didn't stop reassuring her that he didn't care that she was in Gryffindor, that she mattered more to him than his hatred for a House, and that she'd always be his daughter.