Well Done, Slytherin

by Bluebird 88

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe belongs to J.K. Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended.

"Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin."

If he lived to be a hundred, Severus knew he would never forget the looks on his Slytherins' faces as the recognition they deserved for a year's hard work was brushed away with a wave of the headmaster's hand. He could have killed that old fool. Didn't he have eyes, for Merlin's sake? Couldn't he see what he was doing to these children, some of whom were only eleven years old?

He didn't know which was worse: the shock, the pure disbelief on the faces of his first- and second-years, or the resigned expressions of his older students. Like him, they were barely surprised at this latest development. For them, this marked just one more in a long string of injustices that they had encountered from the ever-fair headmaster.

What Severus hated most was the indifference with which Dumbledore regarded these students. In his quest to laud Potter and his companions, he didn't pause for even a moment to consider the ramifications of his spontaneous awarding of points.

As the whole hall celebrated, it was all Severus could do to keep from standing up right then and storming out of the room. Only a sense of professional decorum kept him in his place, screwing his face into something that would have to pass for a smile and shaking Minerva's hand grudgingly.

The whole business mad him thoroughly sick. Wasn't it bad enough that already the only ones who viewed his students in a complementary light were those who would demand their service? Did the headmaster also have to actively work to drive them away, into the waiting arms of those who would coerce them with pretty promises before imprisoning and exploiting them? The headmaster, for all his lofty words, was no less tainted by prejudice than the dark forces he had devoted his life to fighting.

Damn his narrow view of the world, his clouded judgment, and his devotion to all things Potter!

As soon as he could possibly manage, Severus left the hall. In a swirl of black robes, he retreated to his office. He couldn't bear to go to his students, not yet. He needed time to collect himself, to think of something appropriate to say.

What could he say? "Sorry, children, but for all our saintly headmaster claims to care equally for all his students, you will always be lowest in his estimation?" There was nothing to say, no words he could utter that would not stand out to the students as an outright lie. He could tell them that whatever impression Dumbledore may have given them tonight, he did, in fact, think highly of the Slytherins. He could soothe their hurt with pretty lies, but his students were smarter than that. Even the youngest were not naïve enough to believe any longer that theirs would be a fair lot during their time at Hogwarts.

He could tell them that the headmaster had meant them no slight, that he may simply not have realized what his decision might imply. Even if this were true, though, and Severus sometimes had difficulty convincing himself that it was, it would be little consolation. Dumbledore was charged with the task of seeing to the welfare of his students. All his students, not only the ones who happened to conform to his idea of Gryffindor values. Hurting any of them, even through thoughtlessness, was unforgivable. It was his job to consider the effects of his decisions before he made them, not after.

Besides, Severus was certain that had he gone to the headmaster and begged him to understand how his actions were affecting his students, the old man would only wave away his concern, dismissing him with meaningless platitudes and offers of sweets.

Merlin damn the man!

Severus poured himself a drink, nursing it as he stared into the fire, brooding. Enough of this, he finally decided. Others might have forgotten the duties they owed to his students, but not he. As usual, it would be his job to tend to the wounds inflicted by the noblest of the faculty.

He strode purposefully down the corridor that lead to the Slytherin dungeons, booted heels clicking on the stone floor. When he reached the entrance to the common room, however, he paused. Perhaps he ought to give them a bit more time? Besides, another brandy would be just the thing to stave of the headache that was beginning to make itself known.

But no. That was the coward's way out, and Severus Snape was no coward. Steeling himself, he spoke the spoke the password that would grant him entry and stepped through the opening in the wall.

His students were lounging around the room, plopped on sofas and tables, curled up against walls, or sitting haphazardly on the floor in a tangle of arms and legs. The younger students' faces looked to be tear-streaked, and several of the others bore expressions of such hardened resentment that Severus felt a renewed stab of anger at the headmaster's lack of empathy.

Dozens of faces turned his way as his students began to notice his arrival. They regarded him silently, evidently waiting for him to speak. He looked back at them for a long moment, before crossing the room and settling himself in an armchair in the corner. "Come," he bade quietly, gesturing for them to join him. The Slytherins hesitated a moment, then began to cluster around him, sitting on the floor and perching on the edges of nearby chairs. He waited until they had settled themselves, then said slowly, "As my employer, Professor Dumbledore is entitled to a certain amount of my respect. However…" he looked at the upturned faces, meeting his students' eyes. "However," he repeated, "that does not mean I must always agree with him. Much as others might believe otherwise, the headmaster is not infallible. And in this case, I believe him to have been very wrong."

"Why, sir?" Thomas Delcront, a third year, ventured. "Why did he do it?"

"That is a complicated question. I believe the best answer would be that the headmaster, though admittedly a fine strategist, tends to take too long a view of things. In his focus on the big picture, he can often lose sight of the impact his decisions have on others."

"Admit it, sir." A sixth year girl burst out. "Dumbledore hates us!"

"The headmaster does not hate you." A round of protests greeted this statement. Severus held out a hand, calling for silence. "It's true," he insisted. "He does not hate you. He does, however, underestimate you."

"You mean he thinks we're a bunch of criminals in training," another student said bitterly.

"Professor Dumbledore is as human as the rest of us, and he is not free from prejudice. He is first and foremost a Gryffindor himself, and as such can never be truly neutral. When he looks at Slytherin House, he sees it through a Gryffindor's eyes. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is something neither you nor I can ever change."

He looked intently at his students before continuing "As members of this house, each of you will, at some point, be treated unfairly by those who claim to be your allies. There comes a point when you must ask yourselves how much it matters to you to receive recognition from those whom you yourselves do not respect. Were you treated unfairly? Absolutely. But I challenge you to consider this: given the source, how much would the house cup truly have meant to you?"

His students appeared to be considering this, one or two even nodding in agreement. The headmaster's words came back to him, and Severus continued with quiet conviction. "As for me, I am very proud of you all. Well done, Slytherin."

A/N: Feedback is very much appreciated!