Severus was still thinking about his first years when he let himself into the staff room. He poured a glass of wine and settled into the battered leather couch.
He did not understand where he had gone wrong.
Meeting with the first years was, unfortunately, strictly necessary for his plans to rehabilitate his House. He met with them as a group in order to limit the pain, both theirs and his. He had planned ahead with bribes: a platter of biscuits and a jug of pumpkin juice, four extra chairs across from him that even had thin seat cushions. He had troubled to brighten his office slightly in hopes the collection of rare and volatile potions ingredients would intimidate them less that way. Certain ingredients could lose their potency with excessive light exposure, but a few hours of brighter-than-normal was permissible and worth it for the cause.
And even so, they had arrived as a nervous group, already afraid of him after barely a month. Eleven-year-olds all came to Hogwarts with instinctive herd tendencies, but this seemed excessive. He had counted ten minutes of fearful muttering amongst themselves outside the door before one of them mustered up the courage to knock. The meeting had proved completely counterproductive. He learned nothing about them he did not already know from his advanced research and his observations in potions class and at dinner. The conversation was painfully stilted at first. Even that was better than the devolved conclusion, wherein Ismelda Murk continuously needled at his reputation, his history during the war, his family, and his mode of dress, until he finally snapped. He had made her, and incidentally Barnaby Lee, cry in his righteous anger, and assigned the girl detention.
Severus sighed inwardly. He blamed the seventh years. Or possibly the Gryffindors. Hell, he blamed Albus; almost every happening in the wizarding world was the old meddler's fault to some degree, so blaming him was perfectly justified. Mostly of course, he blamed himself. Merlin, he should be better than this. He shouldn't let an eleven-year-old play his emotions so thoroughly, even if her temperament was cut of the same cloth as Sirius Black.
He would try again. Sometime. After he had found a better strategy to talk to children this age. His experiment with smiling at them in class had not worked, or at least not well enough.
The door opened, and Pomona and Argus walked in, laughing about something or other. He supposed he could ask his colleagues for advice. He'd rather ask Petunia, though. Maybe she could arrange for him to practice talking to that neighbor girl, someone who wouldn't have horrible preconceptions about him...
"Ah, Severus! You know, I've been meaning to talk to you." Pomona settled into the couch next to him while Argus rummaged around in the cabinets for something. She reached up. Her hand blurred as she pulled the disillusioned Sorting Hat off her head to comb her fingers through her gray curls and mop her sweaty forehead before sweeping the thing back on. "Dratted thing is so hot in the greenhouses! Why couldn't Godric have enchanted a straw hat?" With amusement, he watched her expressive face in its silent argument with the Hat. It probably took offense to the suggestion of being made of some other material or style. At least, as much offense as a not-actually-sentient magical article of clothing could take. Severus eyed the visual distortion on her head warily. Pomona had gotten the thing first, but he would be taking it starting in November. It may have been his idea, but he was not looking forward to wearing a felted wool hat for hours on end in a steaming laboratory. Come to think of it, the Hat itself might object to being exposed to potentially hazardous fumes too. He could probably get away with wearing it only during lecture-based classes, meal times, and whilst grading in his office.
"Observe only, no commentary, or I'm taking you to meet my chomping cabbages," she muttered. He smirked. It seemed he was not the only one fantasizing about destroying the Hat now. She smiled cheerily again, but it seemed a little forced. "Sorry Severus, the constant little voice in my head is a little distracting. Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about one of my first years."
Merlin, not more of them today. He couldn't take it. "What about them?" he growled.
She swatted his knee. "That. You shouldn't be so hard on them!"
"What did I do?" He hadn't even had class with the Hufflepuff first years this week! He pinched the bridge of his nose against the migraine he knew would be coming this evening.
"Now, now, it's about Ms. Lobosca."
Severus looked up in surprise at the non-sequitur. Chiara was the one first year he was sure liked him. "Is there a problem with the wolfsbane protocol? I understood the transformation went smoothly."
"No, no, you're quite right about that! All according to plan. No concerns there. No changes needed for next week. My badgers are perfectly understanding of course. Only risk will be if students from other houses hear about it and get curious to see the wolf or something, which my prefects know to be on the alert for. No, I just think you must have scared her a bit too much. She's spending far too much time in the library, hardly making friends with the other girls, and Irma tells me it's almost always potions books she's looking at. It's too early in the year for any of my students to be so study-crazy, particularly first years."
Severus arched an eyebrow. It had only been only two weeks since Chiara accosted him. She shouldn't have had enough time to read more than one extracurricular book, if that. She really must be going overboard if the matter came to Pomona's and even Irma's attention so quickly. He sighed. "You have it backwards, Pomona. She's not afraid of potions class, she's overly enthusiastic. She was so enthralled with the positive experience of the Wolfsbane potion, she told me she's decided to become a master potioneer herself." He pulled a face. "Like me."
Pomona started giggling and lifted her hand to her mouth. She blushed suddenly and pulled the Sorting Hat back off. "Hush you," she told it. Severus glared at it for good measure. "That's sweet. Did you have to assign her quite so much extra credit work to put her off, though?"
"I'm not trying to put her off," he snapped indignantly. "I didn't tell her to go spend every waking moment in the library! I gave her a ranked list of useful potions texts in the library, but I was very clear that she had to show she could do well in her other classes before I would consider..."
Pomona was grinning widely at him now, and Argus' dry laughter interrupted. "Got yourselfs a single-minded one, eh, Professors?" He dropped into one of the other chairs, cradling a mug of tea in his gnarled fingers. "Point her out at dinner. I'll watch for her on my patrols, make sure she doesn't try pulling all-nighters. Usually a Ravenclaw thing, but..." He shook his balding head and sipped his tea.
Pomona chuckled too. "Well, if it's just enthusiasm rather than terror, I'm sure she'll settle down to a more sustainable study schedule after a few weeks once the shine wears off a little."
Severus couldn't keep himself from frowning. He probably could have handled Chiara better, but he didn't want her excitement and ambition to wane either. He had never gotten such interest in his subject from a first year before. It was nice, even if it was a Hufflepuff. "I wish my own students could be so enthusiastic," he muttered gloomily. The four Slytherin first years were probably going to be cowering behind their cauldrons again on Thursday, avoiding both eye contact with him and splashes from the brasher Gryffindor students.
"You're doing fine as Head of House, Severus," Pomona chided him.
"There's always a learning curve," Argus agreed. "First year as a Head is rough, but next year will be better, and the year after that will be easy." The aging caretaker sounded absolutely confident, and Severus supposed he had no reason to doubt the man. Albus, Minerva, Rubeus, and Binns were the only staff who had been at Hogwarts longer at this point.
Pomona eyed Argus for a moment, then winked at Severus and grinned. She took out her wand and tapped the Hat to remove the disillusionment charm. "Argus, would you... be interested in trying this thing on?"
Severus' eyes widened and flew to watch the caretaker. Argus half-choked on his tea. "Would I what?" Incredible. How had Argus lived in the castle with unrestricted access at all hours, for decades, and never once tried the Hat on? Clearly not a Slytherin.
Pomona extended the hat towards him. "You were never Sorted, but you're a fixture of the school!"
Argus flushed the same purple as Vernon Dursley often did. "I'm not a student. I'm not even a wizard. Why should I care about all that?"
Oh, he cared. A lot. It was written in his deliberate scowl, irregularly tapping foot, white-knuckled fingers, and defensively hunched posture. "Come on, Argus, aren't you curious?"
"You are. I don't need to know."
Severus leaned forwards. "You don't need to, but you could. It's not like it would get out beyond this room. The Hat never tells anyone what it discusses with an individual during Sorting, not even the Headmaster."
"It's not allowed."
Severus scoffed. "There's no rule against it. If you can find one, I'll drink one of Mr. Prewett's potions. They're terrible."
"...What if it doesn't work, though? I don't have magic to power it." The old man couldn't hide his longing through his habitual gruffness.
"Legilimency doesn't work like that," Severus told him softly. "The Hat is enchanted to see your thoughts. The magic is in the hat. It is your mind that makes it work, not your magic. A muggle could hear it." An interesting thought, that. He would have to remember it when the Hat came to him next month.
"Come on, Argus, no one else is here, just us," Pomona cajoled.
Argus debated internally a bit longer, then suddenly snatched the Hat from Pomona's hand and jammed it on his head, eyes screwed shut. Both professors leaned forwards with bated breath. Severus was thinking hard, trying to predict the outcome from what he knew of Argus. He had already determined not Slytherin. Probably not Ravenclaw; though reasonably sharp, Argus had never struck Severus as an intellectual nor possessed of much curiosity. Gryffindor for braving a castle full of magical teenagers for so many years without any magical defenses of his own? Or...
"HUFFLEPUFF!" the Hat suddenly declared. For willingly doing manual labor for so many years and being too loyal to his thankless job to abandon it despite decades of student harassments, Severus supposed.
"Yes!" Pomona cried, pumping her fist in the air. "I knew you'd be mine!" Argus blushed furiously as he offered the hat back to her.
"Congratulations," Severus said silkily.
"Don't start," the old man mumbled.
"On what? Between the three of us, I think we can all agree, the Hufflepuffs are the best."
"Severus! Such treachery?!"
"From a staff perspective, Pomona. I am proud of my house, but you must admit, your job is probably easier than mine at the moment."
Argus laughed again, a little wheezily. "That I must agree with. Hufflepuffs don't fight in the corridors and they clean up after themselves."
"Nor do they plan your downfall."
Pomona grinned. "Badgers are the best, aren't they?"
"Gryffindors are the worst," Argus said with a dark grin.
"Thank you," Severus said.
Pomona wagged a finger at them. "Now, now, it's not nice to-"
"Speaking as someone who was almost sorted into Gryffindor," Argus interjected pointedly, eyes dancing.
Severus snickered at Pomona's torn expression. "Same," he said. Argus raised his mug in silent toast.
Pomona rolled her eyes. "Fine, they are. From a staff point of view only."
Author's note: ran into a bit of writers' block on this in between the other things I had going on. Hopefully past it and will be back to weekly updates. Anyway, Filch is sort of an odd character when you stop and think about him, eh? The cleaning half of his job makes no sense with the existence of house elves, except to let the house elves stay invisible I suppose, so really his main job must just be keeping order in the corridors despite not actually being a wizard. No wonder the mutual hatred between him and the students. Thanks as always for the reviews.