you raise me up || harry potter

chapter 9: i know who i'm not

»»————-　song:　————-««

jupiter

★ sleeping at last ★

❝  while collecting the stars, 
i connected the dots

i don't know who i am,
but now i know who i'm not. ❞

♢ ♢ ♢

Snape thought it had been a rather good speech. He didn't look forward to that tradition, exactly, but it gratified him to know that his students had a healthy... fear, he'd say, of their Head of House. He couldn't say the same for Minerva. 

Which was why, when that Potter child slid down those stairs with a great dramatic crash, Snape almost bit his tongue in vexation. First the Hat, now this. James Potter would never let him rest, Snape thought resentfully. Always stealing the show. Always.

But when that anger dissipated—only a little bit, as Snape was not a forgiving man—shock overcame him. Helena Potter, Girl-Who-Lived, Girl-Who-Defeated-You-Know-Who, darling of the wizarding world... was not a girl at all. The staircases, of course. Every staircase leading to a female's dormitory in this castle was warded against the males to keep them out. A rather useless thing to do, in Snape's opinion. Girls were capable of just as much untrustworthiness as boys, but it was a moot point.

The Boy-Who-Lived, Snape thought scathingly. It was a title James Potter would have liked.

The girl... boy... thing, Snape deliberated with malice, looked surprised indeed. Did she—he—truly not know? Most wizarding children know by the time they are five or so, thanks to the numerous magical implements that would tip a wizarding parent off. Muggleborns raised as girls were usually the ones that were in for a surprise when they went up the stairs. It was harder to spot girls raised as boys, since girls have no problem entering a boy's dormitory. Perhaps a screening was in order—after all, this was the 20th century...

"Harry! Are you alright?"

Snape was too skilled in the arts of a blank face to let his shock show. Draco was far too prideful to let others see his concern. Snape couldn't remember the last time Draco had been nice to his playmates during dinner parties. All he could recall was a lot of bossing around and making the other toddlers cry. And... "Harry?" 

Lucius must have had a talk with him, Snape decided. Potter indeed would be a useful instrument to have should the Dark Lord ever return, and it was wise of Draco to have already befriended Potter. And 'Harry' was probably the nickname the child had given herself. Himself.

He banished that thought from his mind—the child was eleven, for Merlin's sake, and even Snape was doubtful of Dumbledore's claims that the Dark Lord was still alive. 

What was important now was an explanation. Snape never did those quite well—a child such as this one hadn't been sorted into Slytherin for well over ten years. They usually went to Hufflepuff, where they'd be welcomed whatever gender they may be, or Gryffindor, where coming to terms with their struggles would be seen as courageous. Or Ravenclaw, if they were simply exceptionally academic like everyone else there. 

They only came to Slytherin if they had a reason to hide their struggle. Usually, they were Muggleborn and their parents had been less than receptive to the idea. They came to Slytherin, already used to hiding, deceiving, weaving lies to protect themselves from anymore abuse...

Snape eyed Potter critically. Of course, Potter was not like that. He must simply be naturally deceptive, keeping this secret even from his own family, who certainly would have fawned over his "bravery" and "self-identity" otherwise.