Chapter 2

Severus snape was not considered to be a happy man. He scowled and sneered and growled and prowled through the halls of Hogwarts, generally being a menace to the residents of the ancient castle. No one knew why Dumbledore had hired a man so embittered by his own life, to mould that of the future generations.

Despite all opposition however, no one could deny the fact that Severus snape was also an honourable man- and a man who stuck to his word.

However cumbersome it may be.

Currently as he strode through the empty halls of Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry, he rued the day he had given Albus Dumbledore his word to keep the Potter brat safe. In doing so, he had not only condemned himself to a lifetime of looking after the accursed brat but had also condemned himself to a lifetime of being at a certain headmasters' beck and call. Something the old man took every opportunity to exploit. Every. Opportunity.

Words had always served the embittered potions master well, but the fury he felt at Albus Dumbledore currently, was something he was incapable of describing. He had been brewing peacefully at spinners' end when that blasted phoenix flashed into his home, startling the usually unflappable potions master and destroying his potion. Oh how he loathed that flaming chicken.

The resulting explosion destroyed his workbench and several of his most prized ingredients. Not to mention the revolting goo he was covered in. And then, in his fuming, goo-covered state, Fawkes had the balls to give him a letter from the headmaster asking him to come see him urgently for a situation involving Harry bloody Potter.

To say that the potions master wanted to destroy every fibre in Albus Dumbledore's being would be an understatement. A gross understatement.

Reaching the wretched gargoyle he muttered the offensive password (that he swore Dumbledore installed simply to annoy him), "lemon drops", and the gargoyle jumped apart.

Stepping onto the staircase he swore to himself that if Albus-flipping-Dumbledore had called him to his office simply to marvel over the excellent penmanship of his favourite soon-to-be-student, he would end his existence right then and there. Painfully and excruciatingly.

Opening the door without knocking he strode into the headmasters' office with a flourish and sneered, "good morning headmaster. How may I be of assistance?"

"ah Severus!" the headmaster smiled. Severus however, looked beyond the headmaster's smiling visage and saw the dimmer than usual twinkle and deduced that something was wrong with the Potter child.

Of course the fretting Minerva McGonagall at his side was a dead give away.

"thank you for coming my dear boy. Unfortunately there seems to be something the matter with Mr. Potter's reply to our acceptance letter." Dumbledore said heavily.

So the old man was skipping pleasantries and his customary offer of those thrice cursed lemon drops. Severus mentally raised an eyebrow- Potter's letter must have had something big. And there was nothing Severus could think of that brat doing except-

"has he refused to come?" Snape asked, hardly daring to hope. Maybe he would never have to meet the Potter boy, perhaps he had consented to go to durmstrang or – he mentally snorted- beauxbatons.

"no. He has agreed, his letter however requires a professional opinion." Dumbledore said destroying Snape's hopes. He tried not to let his disappointment show, but failed spectacularly considering the fierce scowl old McGonagall gave him. After all, if a Gryffindor could see through his mask, he had failed monumentally.

"of course." Severus muttered and held out his hand for the letter. Giving him a brief smile, the headmaster passed the letter to him.

The first thing that struck Severus was the penmanship (loathe as he was to admit). It was a scrawl true, but a neat, long and well written scrawl. The second thing that hit him was the muggle stationery. And then he registered the words he was reading.

Respected madam,

I am Harry Potter of number 4 privet drive. I recently received your letter and I must say that I am rather puzzled. There are a few points I'm not quite clear on and would prefer to take a call on my attendance only after having these doubts resolved.

To this effect, I would appreciate it if you could send a member of your faculty to deal with my concerns and tell me about how to go about my admission process. What is the fee I shall be asked to pay? What is the term structure? What are the topics you shall be covering in our syllabus?

As you see I'm bursting with questions and need some guidance. I am a novice at these matters and I'm sure one of your no doubt impressive faculty could certainly deal with my minor doubts.

My Regards.

Harry James Potter.

What in the Bloody Hell?

Snape stared at the paper in his hand. An eleven year old had written this? With the impressive vocabulary and the (thankfully) correct grammar, the boy had written a letter of the standards that even his seventh year Slytherins wouldn't have been able to write.

Re-reading the last night, Severus noted the slight, barely-there flattery and felt his gut sink. The tone, style and subtle manipulation throughout the letter all pointed to one thing.

Potter was coming to Slytherin.

Oh he knew that most would call him presumptuous, declaring his assessment of the boy's character after reading just one letter from him, but Severus saw the signs. He saw the was the boy had given out an air of authority at the beginning of the letter, smoothly shifting it into the unbridled curiosity of a child, before turning it into the honeyed notes of a seasoned politician, aiming to both please and order. All in the span of a letter that was less than 200 words long.

For a split second, he thought he was looking for ghosts where there were none. Maybe his tenure with the dark lord had left him paranoid. But then as he looked into Albus' eyes he realised that Albus had seen the signs too. Which meant there was no way he was imagining it.

Which meant that for the next seven years, he would have the dubious honour of being in-loco-parentis to James Potter's son.

He considered suicide at the very thought.

"I see you have reached the same conclusion as myself. So I would like you to go to the boys house with Minerva and buy him his supplies as well as answer his queries to guide him to where he needs to be." Albus said, a note of finality in his voice.

Not even thinking about arguing Severus nodded and walked out of the room with Minerva at his heels.

Albus' order had been very well disguised so as to not raise Minerva McGonagall's suspicions. Severus however, had understood the message loud and clear.

Guide Potter to Gryffindor and away from Slytherin.

Setting his jaw, Severus refused to be daunted at the idea. After all, how hard could it possibly be to steer Gryffindor's apparently wayward hero away from Slytherin?

Less than twenty fours from now, Severus would scoff at his past self's blind confidence and wonder how he always managed to get himself into such situations.

But he didn't know that right now did he?