Title: Another Year
Rating: K+
Pairing: HarryxDraco (will be little, because this is Snape's POV)
Summaries: The story changes a little when Harry Potter is known to be a natural Occlumen and a Parselmouth in his first year and the very first day at Hogwarts. What is our Potions Master thinking?
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Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
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-Prologue-
Another year. Another year at Hogwarts School of Irritating Brats and Senile Headmaster, which always found pleasure in dementing him with their respectively pathetic display of potions brewing performance and useless speech (well, except his Slytherins, of course).
Haven't the Dark Lord drowned himself in a bathtub full of sulfuric acid (Muggles potions were utterly useful, he had to admit) to completely be dead for Merlin's sake, he wouldn't have been seen decorating the Great Hall for a warm welcome to the new Hogwarts students – all Dumbledore's saying – and waiting impatiently in the Potions professor seat, which he still so wanted to get discard of after so many years sending resume for Defense Against the Dark Arts spot. Sometimes, Snape wondered the number of lawsuits he would have to face against once he retired, for having rampaging too much through the first years' fragile and innocent minds.
The half-giant Hagrid could be seen talking loudly already after only two glasses of Firewhiskey Special for Giants (if that brand of firewhiskey ever existed). Filius, having to sit on books to be able to eat meals like normal people, chatted with Hooch about the bird and the bee – Snape enjoyed calling things he didn't know of this name due to the number of slacked jaws at the hypocritical implying meaning. There came Sinistra, busy drumming fingers that looked so much like vector arrow on the table. Pomona and Poppy (Merlin forbid he said two names with a P at the beginning together) indulged in a silent but heated argument about the effect of Sugar Quills on youngsters' teeth.
Quirrel – the new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher and Snape's newest arch nemesis – was the only one that didn't occupy himself by doing insignificant things. His irritating violet turban followed raptly whenever his head moved, which annoyed Snape so much that he just wanted to hex the man into oblivion, let alone the bravery that Quirrel put on display, daring to sit next to the very vehement and vengeful Potions Master. That was not the only thing that was continuously pissing Snape off. Something obscene, unhealthy, and even dangerous - radiated through the thick turban, which caused him to unconsciously scratch his arm at the seamed area, tainted by the Dark Mark. However, he didn't want to interrogate the other teacher, seeing that his blabbering would get him nowhere to the needed answer, which wasn't so needed this moment, when Minerva McGonagall finally took the stage, holding a list full of first years' name and a tattered Sorting Hat.
First years again… something tickled Snape's mind but he couldn't very well remember… Snape looked over to the soaked and shivering students-to-be to relieve some of his annoyance. What he gained was more than he expected as his currently high irritation rose to a whole new level.
Potter.
The only Wizard's Oath that Snape was never hesitated to make was to always recognize a Potter wherever and under whatever cover the latter used. Black hair, brown eyes, pitied eyesight that could be tell just by the way they blinked – every Potter male wore the same face and attitude, just like how the Mafoys discarded the usual way to reproduce and decided finally to clone themselves. Onyx eyes narrowed, immediately made some potential Huffepuffs cowered. Yes, just as he predicted: black hair, pitied eyesight… Look up, brat so that I can despise your eyes, too. The boy somehow obeyed, and Snape startled.
Pale skin. All Potter males had tanned one. And green eyes, sparkling behind contact lens.
Snape dismissed the hope that he was seeding all along. Just a small difference of outward appearance could not demonstrate the trait. The Potters were forever deemed arrogant prickly bastards. In Snape's opinion, at least.
Minerva's voice forcefully dragged him out of legendary and deep-rooted hatred reverie and began listing names. 'Abbott, Hannah!'
A little clumsy-looking shy blonde girl stepped out of the first years bunch and walked crisply toward the tattered Sorting Hat – not nervousness, but fear – showed clearly in her eyes. Hufflepuff, for sure.
'HUFFLEPUFF!' the Hat yelled.
Snape had the tendency to smirk, which only made Abbott fled quicker to her House table. He hasn't lost his acumen in guessing Houses, then.
'Malfoy, Draco'
What's the point in sorting a Malfoy? Snape asked himself, and the Hat unconsciously answered him by declared out loud the moment the brim touched Draco's hair: 'SLYTHERIN!'
Name after name flew away, until… 'Potter, Harry!'
Snape's eyes immediately darkened at the small, lone figure separated itself from the unsorted first years and made its way to the stool. Shaky hands put the Sorting Hat on, and…
'Child, put your walls down' said the Hat. All teachers showed their utmost surprise, excluding Snape, who barely concealed it due to many years of experiences against the Dark Lord. The Potions Master, like other teachers, asked inwardly: 'How did Potter have walls in mind? Does he know Occlumency already?'
'I take it then, child; you can't put your walls down' the Hat continued, obviously to the curious stares that subjected directly to the magical thing 'Close your eyes then, Mr. Potter, and relax'
Potter couldn't put his walls down himself, meaning that he was a natural Occlumen. Snape gave away a thoughtful glance. Natural Occlumens were very rare in this world, as in late decency there have had only three of them shattered around England, French and China. Without mention that there hasn't had any natural Occlumen in the Potter bloodline… perhaps Lily Evans wasn't a muggleborn, after all. Somehow Snape felt ridiculously thankful to Lily, to finally modify the Potter blood that occasionally created some absurdly arrogant pricks, like James Potter. Hope began to swell in Snape, that Harry Potter didn't resemble his father.
Oh how little he knew.
'Use your talents with the snakes wisely, child, it is a very precious gift from Salazar Slytherin, and it is not Dark'
Throughout the Great Hall, there was a sudden silence: Gryffindors stopped betting about Potter's House and increased alarm and – if he wasn't mistaken – animosity towards him; Ravenclaws stopped reviewing their lessons and listened raptly to the Hat, which decided to be silent for a moment; Hufflepuffs stopped staring at their plates and cowering altogether, protecting themselves from the slight hint of the Dark Lord; Slytherins' eyes brightened with well-concealed glee as they exchanged curious and knowing glances.
There was no difference between students and teachers' reactions. Minerva's lips became thinner, Filius almost fell off the books he was sitting on, Poppy, along with Pomona, Hooch and Hagrid shuddered and Quirrel (Snape spat the name even in his thought) didn't show any emotion, except the continuous eye twitch. Only Snape wasn't too surprised, his facial muscles carefully controlled. He got a glimpse of Dumbledore: the old wizard was frowning slightly; his eyes lost the joyful twinkling.
'I won't argue with you anymore. I'm the Sorting Hat and you will do as I say'
Snape rolled his eyes at the Hat. Had it looked at him, it would have rolled its eyes back as if to say: 'Do you have any idea?'
Anyway, Potter's Sorting was so long that the students went back to what they were doing before. Gryffindors continued chatting heatedly without losing track of the Sorting; Ravenclaws returned to their lessons and began doing crosswords; Huffepuffs resumed their unfinished staring. Slytherins, on the contrary of all three other Houses, lifted their gaze to the little boy and waited expectedly. Even Draco Malfoy was curious; his eyes practically yelled that somebody should just wrench that bloody hat away and dragged Harry Potter to their table. How much Snape wanted to be that person.
Potter couldn't go to Gryffindor. He would be feared, neglected, or looked down upon, because of his Dark talent. Some anguish upper years would beat him, and the others would join. Minerva's favoritism would only make the situation worse. Therefore, Potter would not survive in the lions nest. He couldn't go to Ravenclaw, too, since ever looking at him, Snape had known the boy wasn't too fond of books. He had a raw thirst for knowledge from his sharp green eyes, yes, but not by skimming books and learning by heart everything. Obviously he couldn't go to Hufflepuff, considered that the House was rumored to be the garbage can for whoever that didn't have other traits (whereas Snape hoped not, because Helga Hufflepuff was a powerful witch). Then rested only Slytherin, the snakes den, as many people named the House. And being a Parselmouth was just a beginning.
'Your half-giant friend is strongly prejudiced, Mr. Potter' Hagrid choked over his firewhiskey at the mention of him 'If the House had, it would have been demolished decades ago.
'You have got everything in your head. Cunning, intelligence, survival instinct, thirst for knowledge, loyalty. Slytherin will sharpen you, make you a very powerful wizard. I believe I make the right choice, should you not defy it as you would regret later'
Potter's lips didn't move, but the boy nodded slightly. Minerva seemed to be the only one other than the Potions Master to notice the movement because she inhaled sharply, as if fearing to lose her Golden Boy. Snape unleashed a smile that sent some unsorted first years to comically widen their eyes and some students to cower deeper into other housemates.
The Hat bellowed: 'SLYTHERIN!'
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Reviews are appreciated.