Chapter One
~ In which fifteen is hell ~
Severus Snape opened his eyes. He felt warm and comfortable, and didn't seem to be staring at the dark, barely visible stone ceiling of his dungeon. The ceiling above him was lit a light pink from the setting sun, and a warm breeze wafted through a nearby window. He blinked bemusedly around when a blur of black fur suddenly obscured his vision, hurling itself towards him and latching on to his face.
"Get off!" he choked, tearing the furball from him and throwing it away.
The kitten twisted its body in midair, landing gracefully on its feet and bolting under the bed. But Snape wasn't paying any attention to the cat; he was staring very hard at his hand in front of him. He looked quickly around for his wand, and seized it from the bedside table. He was just about to summon a mirror when he caught sight of his blurred reflection in the looking glass next to the sink. Unable to believe what he was looking at, he brought his hands up to touch his face before cursing violently and stumbling awkwardly out of bed towards the mirror.
He glared at his clear reflection and gasped. A horrified, teenage boy was staring back at him.
***
"So, until we have a counter-potion I am afraid you are stuck like that, Severus."
Snape stared into space as Albus Dumbledore paced the room, still unable to comprehend how the recent chain of events had come about.
Much to his horror, the house-elves had already cleaned up the mess in the dungeons, leaving not a drop of spilled liquid behind. The Potion Masters at Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, along with various doctors from St Mungos were each contacted one after the other, but to no avail. Each had replied promptly that such a case was not possible to happen in the first place and were quite curious as to why Dumbledore would enquire such a thing. Snape was horrified at being made a laughing stock, so Dumbledore hadn't bothered to reply.
The enormity of his condition just starting to sink in, Snape's moody stare flicked from the blank wall before him to out the window, at the glittering lake below. He couldn't help but feel that Dumbledore would think he'd done this on purpose, as if to get out of whatever nasty job was in store for him. He felt unusually cowed as he sat there, suddenly unable to meet the Headmaster's eyes.
"I don't blame you for what happened, you know," murmured Dumbledore, breaking the long silence and reading Snape's averted gaze like a book.
"I know that," replied Snape curtly, feeling horribly uncomfortable but forcing his eyes to glare back up at Dumbledore's. To his surprise, Dumbledore was looking back at him with a half smile on his face.
"You know, Severus, although it's an unpleasant ordeal for you, this is still quite a notable achievement that you've stumbled across," he said. "I believe this is the first successful body-age reduction of all time."
Snape snorted loudly, though straining his brain as he tried to mentally run over all of the different combinations of ingredients, and then all of the potions they had been combined in, and then all of the possible ways they could have affected his Polyjuice Potion...
"It wasn't successful at all," he said eventually, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice as his brain gave up in frustration. "It was an accident - and a ridiculously clumsy one at that."
"Some of the best inventions start out being accidents."
"That's only assuming this is permanent," said Snape at once, "-and I shall make sure that it will not be."
"Yes, that would be a pity," agreed Dumbledore after a brief pause. "The loss of your services would be quite a blow to our side. Not to mention your value as a teacher in this school."
"Yes, well the remaining weeks of the holidays should be sufficient for finding a cure," said Snape stiffly, annoyed at himself for flushing slightly at Dumbledore's words. It was as if a steady supply of adrenaline was pumping into his body and making him feel restless and emotionally agitated. He could've sworn he hadn't felt like this when he was a teenager the first time.
"Are you quite all right, Severus?" asked Dumbledore gently, peering with some concern at Snape's rapidly drumming fingers on the bedside table.
"I'm fine," snapped Snape, ceasing the drumming and instead fiddling with a loose thread on the mattress.
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows ever so slightly and looked out of the window with interest.
"You know when I was younger, I found there was nothing more relaxing than spending a sunny day rowing or swimming to get rid of any, ah... excess energy I might have had. It made my concentration and countenance so much more agreeable."
Snape sniffed rudely. "I assure you that I am fine, Headmaster," he ground out. "I am perfectly capable of handling this adolescent body without any meaningless physical exertion."
Dumbledore smiled at the Professor's precise words coming from a sulky boy's mouth. "Well, I wish you good luck in your endeavours and look forward to having my Potions Master back before the start of the school term."
As Dumbledore got up to leave, a slightly harassed look came over Snape's face. "Er... Headmaster... If, by any chance, I somehow don't -" he began.
"Then you must continue to work on it throughout the year," cut in Dumbledore genially.
"But the students -"
"You can act as a student yourself," said Dumbledore smoothly. "We have quite a few on exchange this year, you know. No one has to know who you really are."
"But -"
"We'll say that you are Professor Snape's nephew, and he has gone away for a while, leaving you (who is honourably named after his uncle) to start school at Hogwarts."
"Who will -"
"I will teach Potions in the meantime."
"But-you-can't-expect-me-to-do-this!" Snape burst out angrily in one breath, before he could get interrupted again.
Dumbledore looked at him mildly. "Now, Severus, it will give you time to catch up on your childhood. Besides, I have absolute faith in your potion making abilities and I'm certain you'll find the cure within a few weeks anyway."
But the more Snape thought about finding a cure, the more difficult he thought it would be. Polyjuice Potion in the least took a month to brew.
"Oh and Severus... I'm afraid some of the staff already know about your current predicament," said Dumbledore offhandedly, though not quite meeting his eyes. "Minerva was here earlier and seemed to find your situation... er... slightly amusing and brought back the other Heads to er... that is... they found it slightly amusing also."
"What?" Snape glared him. "That old trout! And who else has she told in the meantime?"
"Don't be rude, Severus," reproached Dumbledore. "She knows she's to tell nobody else. It's only the Heads of Houses, Madam Pomfrey and myself who are to know."
"And that's five too many," muttered Snape under his breath.
"Don't make yourself handle this on your own, Severus," said Dumbledore, seriously. "And besides, Professors McGonagall and Flitwick have both taught you before and would most certainly have recognised you anyway. You know it's still quite easy to tell who you are."
"Then everyone will know!" Snape burst out at once. Annoyed that he'd lost his cool, Snape settled into a seething silence, narrowing his eyes as Dumbledore drew his wand and started descending towards him. "Wait... what...what are you doing?"
"Incisorus!" Dumbledore commanded, waving his wand to sever large clumps of hair from Snape's head. Ignoring the alarmed look on Severus's face, Dumbledore continued to zap here and there, cropping Snape's slightly greasy hair very short against his head.
"I could have done this myself," muttered Snape sullenly, glaring at his reflection on the far side of the room. "And what's that? You can't just leave one long bit when it's all short. I look ridiculous!"
Dumbledore shrugged. "I thought they were all the rage these days." He zapped it off at Snape's look of irritation. "There. What do you think?"
"I don't know, it's just hair," said Snape testily, glaring at his reflection. "Can you order the house-elves to my office for questioning? I've wasted enough time lying around up here."
"Of course," replied Dumbledore, his concerned face softening as Snape struggled out of bed in robes too big for him. "But don't be so hard on yourself, Severus. If things don't go as planned, perhaps you could treat this as a long-deserved break."
Snape's face tightened at these words and he didn't reply. Quickly transfiguring his robes, he left the room in strained silence.
***
Snape tossed and turned in his bed. It felt somewhat comforting to be back in his quarters but he still felt strange, as if he didn't fit somehow. He wasn't short for a fifteen-year-old, but he still felt too small for his bed and simply ridiculous sitting behind his desk with his feet barely touching the floor. Questioning the house-elves had achieved hardly anything, and he was currently starting to brew a fresh batch of Polyjuice Potion.
It was then that he realised that the last batch he'd ruined had been for Dumbledore, yet another thing he'd messed up.
After about five minutes of pummelling his lumpy pillow in frustration, he began to feel much calmer when another sudden thought struck him. He reached for his wand on his bedside table.
"Lumos," he muttered.
Snape pulled the sleeve of his left arm up. He glared at the familiar tattoo, not knowing whether to be relieved or depressed.
It would be hard resisting the Dark Lord's call in this weaker body. He'd already discovered that his spells weren't as powerful now as they'd grown to be. And he had no idea as to how he was supposed to defend himself when he couldn't even Apparate anymore. Perhaps he should speak to Dumbledore about it.
Tomorrow. Try to sleep.
But it was so hard. Sleep didn't come easily to this restless body. He tried to relax his clenched jaw but only succeeded in clenching his fists instead. The school term started in barely a month! He had a horrible feeling that his cure would evade him, and Dumbledore would force him to relive his humiliating school days.
No, Snape thought to himself. The idea was preposterous. In any case...at least his old school rivals wouldn't be back to haunt him.
***
Snape shovelled soil vigorously. After two sleepless nights in a row he had grudgingly accepted the offer to help Hagrid with his vegetable patch. Much to his disgust, everyone seemed to treat him like he was fragile, and Snape was starting to regret working so closely with Hagrid as the great oaf seemed to have developed the idea that he was to be 'taken under his wing'. It was only later that Snape found out that his parents had apparently died quite recently, and his dear Uncle Severus had gone to clear everything up - courtesy of Dumbledore.
Snape slapped an insect and winced as he hit burnt skin. Blasted sun, he seethed. Pale skin was absolutely useless! And what was the point of working off his energy during the day when it was impossible to sleep at night with all this irritating sunburn?
He ran his fingers through his short hair, hating the way it had become a habit to do so. He kept thinking that he'd gone bald, without the familiar curtains of hair drooping down over his face, so perfectly concealing and comforting.
His thoughts were interrupted as a soft ball of fur hit the back of his legs. He whirled around in a second, happy to take out his frustrations on the kitten.
"Stop following me," he growled, and kicked out at it.
He couldn't understand why the cat kept following him around, Mrs Norris had never particularly taken to him before her transformation. Filch refused to believe that they were the same cat and was still lamenting the supposed death of the 'real' Mrs Norris. Snape had already put up with the Headmaster's suggestions ("Why don't you keep her? I say, call her Oreo!").
He'd responded with a long-suffering scowl and stalked off, however the effect was somewhat ruined by a gambolling 'Oreo' proceeding to chase his ankles. He'd eventually decided to ignore the playful cat and contented himself with aiming a kick at the kitten whenever it bounded past.
"Diggin' teh Australia are yeh, Sev?"
Snape's shovel froze in mid-thrust. With all the despicable things he had to endure, he didn't think he could stand one more.
"What did you just call me?" he asked scathingly, as he turned to the Gamekeeper and gave him his coldest look imaginable.
Hagrid squinted at him in surprise, the sun beating down into his eyes. "What was that, Sev?" he inquired, completely oblivious to the look on the boy's face.
Snape growled indistinctly and took it out on the soil. He still couldn't figure out why Hagrid hadn't recognised him, let alone why he kept asking for his help in his garden. Hagrid had been Gamekeeper while Snape had been at school properly, and hadn't exactly been one of Snape's biggest fans.
The shovelling boy glanced over at Hagrid, who had stopped his work and was looking at him with something close to pity. Snape's face tightened and he dropped his shovel. He didn't need any pity.
He stalked back to the castle for a shower. He'd been wasting far too much time doing mindless exercise when he needed to spend it working on his counter-potion. There were still the countless bottles that were on his shelf that he needed to analyse, and he still had to deduce exactly which ones might have fallen into his cauldron.
Snape cursed as he jogged up the castle steps. He had forgotten to ask Dumbledore about his assignment. There had to be something he could do, even if he looked like an adolescent twit.
He glared around him at the empty Entrance Hall. Only three weeks to go before it was filled with students' mocking laughter.
***
The sun peeped over the Forbidden Forest. Severus Snape stretched and got up. He was feeling strangely light, probably because his sun-blistered skin had finally healed itself. He started to pull on a robe and glanced into the mirror. He was shocked at the image before him, and stared disbelievingly at his reflection for a few seconds. He ran his fingers through his short hair but then stared at his palms and fingers in horror.
Gone were the tapered precise fingers, made steady from holding potion ingredients hours upon end. Instead were these coarse, clumsy things, hardened and callused by physical labour. He clenched his fists and noticed new, still lean but slightly prominent muscles tensing in response. His sunburnt upon sunburnt skin had peeled away, leaving him a light nutty brown colour, instead of his pale, bordering on anaemic skin prior. Finally he looked at his face, and felt a burst of annoyance. He looked like a simpering fifth year, with his smooth chin and pleasant expression. He quickly twisted his face into his usual scowl-cross-sneer and felt relieved. This young body was twisting his mind, now he was starting to feel as if he didn't belong down here, as if he wanted to be outside. He shook his head and fastened his outer robes. He had painstakingly recreated nearly all of the potions upon his shelves, and it was nearing the time when the Polyjuice Potion would be ready.
He started up the stairs, aiming a kick at a certain black kitten and remembering his question for Dumbledore. The Headmaster should be back by now. He had been away on his usual mysterious business for the past two weeks.
Snape made his way up the moving staircases, to the very top floor towards the Headmaster's office. Feeling slightly foolish, he whispered the usual ridiculous password and ascended up the stairs. He opened the door and saw Dumbledore sitting at his desk, writing busily with a luxurious quill. Snape cleared his throat and Dumbledore jumped. The Headmaster pushed his half-moon spectacles back into place and smiled at the changed figure standing before him.
"Sneaking up on me, Severus?"
Snape looked indignant. "Of course not, I made no such effort!" he replied hotly. Damned stupid adrenaline rush.
Dumbledore looked at him shrewdly and set down his quill. "I suppose my letter to Aberforth can wait," he murmured.
Waving his hand in an irritated apology, Snape launched straight into his prepared speech. "I came to see you, Headmaster, because I am anxious to know what you are assigning me to do. I know I am not much use now, but -"
"On the contrary, Severus, you are very useful as you are now," Dumbledore interrupted.
Snape looked taken aback. "I am not at my full strength...at the moment...but the Polyjuice Potion will help me brew my cure very soon," he began.
"Cutting it a bit fine aren't we, Severus? Term starts in one week, yes, yes I know the Polyjuice Potion won't be ready until then," he said hastily, as Snape started to turn red. "But there might be something else you could do..." he said thoughtfully.
Snape looked at him mistrustfully. "If it has anything to do with Potter, then no," he said flatly.
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows and picked up his quill once more. "I thought as much. But someday you will have to work together, Severus, you know that don't you?"
Snape grunted.
"Well, good luck then. I must get back to my letter, Severus, but we shall talk again before the start of the term."
Snape hovered in front of the Headmaster's desk a while longer, before the scratching of Dumbledore's quill made it clear that the conversation was over. Feeling quite annoyed and unable to believe his situation was being taken so lightly, Severus turned on his heel and slammed the door behind him. His face was stormy as he pictured another week of teenage awkwardness. Taking the steps two at a time he descended quickly, heading downwards towards Hagrid's hut for his daily dose of unpleasantries.
***
Rubeus Hagrid glanced at the boy next to him gulping down his breakfast. He really did eat a lot. Sort of reminded him of himself at that age. It was quite a pity really; the boy had told him he might be leaving today. He'd been a great help organising lessons for the year and he was going to miss the strong lad who helped him in his garden.
Severus Snape finished his breakfast and got up. He nodded at the Gamekeeper and Headmaster and left hurriedly.
Finally. Finally it was ready.
A familiar black kitten followed closely at his heels, but this time he made no effort to kick it away. He whipped out his wand and opened the door to his office, striding across the room to the adjoining one in which he brewed all of his potions in private. He quickly switched back to his old (rather big) robes and left Dumbledore's transfigured, shorter ones by the door.
He opened a vial and pulled a clump of boarhound fur from it. It seemed ridiculous but his experiments had shown that dog hair should counteract with that damned cat hair. And speaking of which...
He contemplated whether he should change the cat back as well. Seeming to read his mind, the kitten gave one last rub against his ankles before bolting for the door. Snape shrugged. He didn't care anyway.
He tossed the fur in firmly. Stirring the mixture carefully he uncorked the next vial of carefully prepared liquid and poured it slowly in.
The potion turned a familiar bright blue colour. Snape put his wand on the table and looked down at the steaming mixture. Deciding to do everything as he did before, he got ready to tip the cauldron of liquid over himself before he hesitated. He was starting to feel strangely attached to his new body...
He pinched himself furiously for having this momentary fit of insanity. It would be ridiculous to remain a boy! Besides, the Headmaster was counting on him.
He steadied his hands onto the rim and got ready to tip it over when something sharp hit his face.
"YOU STUPID BEAST!" he roared, batting the cat furiously away.
But this caused him to lose his balance, tipping the liquid not only over him, but over the alarmed feline as well. He felt the steaming fluid wash over him, as he reluctantly opened his mouth to allow some to go gushing in. Then his head hit the floor with a crack, and his vision blurred to black.
***
Severus Snape groaned dully as he rolled onto his side. His closed eyelids flickered as memories of a cauldron tipping on him a second time started forming hazily in his mind. With a sudden burst of realisation, he flung his hands to his face and sat up.
Nothing had changed.
A wave of frustrated fury burst through him as he rolled over and buried his face in his pillow, furiously analysing preparations he'd gone through, checking and rechecking why, after all his planning it didn't work. His head started to hurt from concentration and disappointment, every calculation fading instead to the look of scorn on everyone's faces when they'd seen that he'd failed. By God, he was a man, not a snivelling boy; how could the world taunt him like this?
"I'm sorry, Severus."
The Headmaster's gentle voice didn't come as a surprise to the numb Potions Master. He was obviously in a bed in the hospital wing, and he at once felt self-conscious of the fact that his face was buried into a pillow as if he was crying. He instantly rolled over and sat back up, glaring stonily out of the nearby window towards the huge lake. Judging from the sun it was quite late in the afternoon. He must have been unconscious for quite a while.
Dumbledore spoke again, his voice irritatingly soothing. "When you're ready, Severus, you must tell me of what happened in every detail."
Snape continued glaring at the glittering lake, the sunlit reflections hurting his eyes but refusing to look at the Headmaster. Eventually he started to mutter what had happened, but when he got to the part about Fang's fur, Dumbledore interrupted.
"So that explains the tail!" he exclaimed.
Snape's glare intensified. "Tail?"
"Er...yes...nasty job removing it... but continue with your story," Dumbledore said rather hastily.
But the wave of humiliation he felt was suddenly put on hold when a thought occurred to him. "What about the cat fur the first time?"
Dumbledore looked at him closely, as if expecting him to sprout a pair of whiskers.
"I see no visible cat attributes," said Dumbledore eventually, but then his expression brightening at a growing muffled disturbance below. "Aha! I hear the sound of trampling feet! The students are arriving! We shall talk later tonight, Severus. Come now, let us go greet the students in the Entrance Hall."
Snape sank further into the bed as a response. He must have been unconscious for at least forty-eight hours!
"What you said a month ago," Snape said suddenly, gripping the blankets around him tightly. "About me being enrolled as a student - you can't be serious!"
"I'm sorry, Severus," replied Dumbledore with a sigh. "But we need your potion-making skills on hand and there is nowhere more convenient and safe than Hogwarts. You look to be around fifteen and I'm sure the fifth years won't even notice you amidst all the other exchange students."
"But-"
"I'm sorry, Severus," Dumbledore repeated wearily. "Oh, and I shall be teaching Potions in the meantime, as well as being Slytherin's Head of House."
"What!" Snape burst out in disbelief. "The Slytherins will revolt!"
"Don't be melodramatic, Severus," Dumbledore called over his shoulder, heading for the door but motioning towards a cupboard. "I've shortened some of my old robes for you to wear. I hope you don't start the term by being late."
As always, Dumbledore had the annoying ability of making it clear that the conversation was over, and Snape, wallowing in self-loathing and disbelief, pulled on his new robes and forced himself to follow.
***
Merry torchlight flickered outwards as Rubeus Hagrid pulled open the great doors of the castle.
"Welcome teh Hogwarts!" he boomed to the awed first years.
"You're early, Hagrid," Professor McGonagall said quite pointedly to him, making her way past the older students to look at him rather severely.
"Oh... well, some of these firs' years are good rowers, eh?" he said somewhat shiftily, fingering his enormous umbrella, but then getting distracted as he caught sight of Dumbledore and a certain sulky-looking boy descending from the far stairs.
"SEV!" he bellowed, making McGonagall stagger backwards with her hands over her ears. "Glad yeh stayin'! Listen, I wan' yeh t'meet a few friends of mine!"
Far off on the stairway Snape paused, looking as if he'd sucked on a lemon.
Dumbledore glanced over his shoulder at the boy and raised his eyebrows. "You know, being acquainted with wizards of such moral fibre as Hagrid would surely be an asset in the social department, Severus."
"Bah," muttered Snape with a long-suffering glare, but eventually moving towards the enormous shaggy man with a very bad grace. "Hello, Hagrid," he muttered, nodding stiffly and attempting to control his scowl.
Hagrid grinned in reply, looking as if he was about to give him the biggest treat in the world. Snape responded with a thin smile that turned to ice as he heard his next words.
"HARRY! RON! HERMIONE! OVER HERE!" Hagrid bellowed.
An important-looking girl with a big 'P' badge started to push her way towards them. A boy roughly the same size with a shock of messy black hair followed hastily afterwards. A second boy, taller than the other two, followed reluctantly after them, rolling his eyes and apologising for the girl's behaviour. They stood as a trio, all talking at once with Hagrid beaming away at them.
"Righ' I'd like all yeh t'meet Sev Snape, Professor Snape's nephew."
Harry and Ron exchanged disbelieving looks before they all turned to face him.
Snape fixed them with an icy stare. "That's Severus Snape," he said coolly, trying to restrain the intense dislike radiating from his face.
Harry, Ron and Hermione looked as though they were trying to restrain the incredulity rising in theirs.
"Er... what year are you in then?" Ron began lamely.
"I didn't know Snape had a nephew," Hermione blurted out suddenly. "You look just like him!"
Severus gave her a withering glare. "Thank you for the compliment," he sneered, and stalked off.
But as he was leaving, he couldn't help but overhear Hermione's whisper, "I know this is mad - but I'd swear that's the Professor himself! He seems to act just like him... plus, he does sort of resemble a better-looking Snape..."
Luckily he walked out of range before he could hear Harry and Ron's gagging noises.
Snape seethed as he shouldered past countless students. He tried to force himself to calm down and think rationally, but whenever he grew angry he found it hard to think these days. Trust that know-it-all Granger to jump to conclusions. So he acts like 'Snape' does he?
Oh no, he groaned mentally, but it would be so difficult to act otherwise! But... he must. No one must suspect him, especially not Potter and followers. He may have lost his body and half his magical strength, but he would not lose his reputation or his pride.
Distracted by his thoughts, Snape changed direction suddenly, only to collide heavily with a boy slightly shorter than him.
"Watch out!" they both snapped at the same time.
Snape glared at the boy in annoyance, surprise replacing his anger when he recognised the irritated face. "Malfoy!" he exclaimed.
Draco Malfoy looked at the stranger in suspicion. "Who're you? Have we met?" he demanded at once.
Snape quickly replied. "Ah yes...my uncle mentioned you - you might know him, Professor Snape? I was named after him..."
Draco looked somewhat gratified at being mentioned by his Head of House, and his expression became almost friendly. "Are you really?" he replied, looking slightly impressed. "Well, I must say, your uncle is definitely the best teacher here by far. He really puts those smarmy Gryffindors in their place. I bet you'll be in Slytherin just like him, eh?"
Snape smirked smugly in response. Perhaps all of his students weren't such a lost cause after all.
***
The huge crowd of students clamoured around the Great Hall, each eager to catch up with their friends. Draco was standing towards the back with Severus, bragging about the merits of Slytherin House and the absolute awfulness of Gryffindor which Snape found himself strangely enjoying.
"Do you have a broom?" asked Draco suddenly, but then looking disappointed at the other boy's negative headshake. "You really should get one, I'm head of Slytherin's Quidditch team and I could probably get you on if you're any good."
"Oh... I don't think I am," Snape replied, thinking back to his clumsy attempts at flying in his school days. "But thanks for the offer."
"That's quite all right," said Draco rather formally, as if he wasn't quite used to being genuinely thanked for something. There was a brief uncomfortable silence as he looked around the room. "Your uncle's not at the staff table, where is he?"
"Er, my parents are dead. Killed quite recently," mumbled Snape, looking slightly awkward. "He's taking some time off to sort out... er... our estate."
"Oh," Draco muttered, just as awkwardly. "Right... Sorry..."
Severus ran his fingers though his hair, wracking his brains for something to break the silence with. He'd always favouritised Draco - mostly because it rubbed Potter the wrong way - but also because he reminded him of himself at that age. He hadn't been expecting anything close to sympathy though. He was just about to reply when McGonagall called for silence and announced that the Sorting was about to begin.
"See you in a bit." Draco waved, and moved quickly over to the Slytherin table.
Severus nodded, feeling slightly foolish for befriending his own student. He jostled into a queue surrounded by exchange students, while the rest of the Great Hall settled down and listened to the Sorting Hat's song with interest. It felt like a long time before all the first years were sorted, and he was just starting to feel restless and wonder whether he could sneak off somewhere until it was over when he realised there was nobody left in front of him.
"Snape, Severus," McGonagall called.
A slight murmuring grew in the hall, as a few hundred faces turned to stare in his direction. He walked stiffly towards the battered hat, restraining a furious glare in response to all the whispers. He was just about to put on the hat when the Headmaster rose from his place.
"I would just like to welcome Severus Snape, nephew of our Potions Master at Hogwarts, Professor Snape..." (loud whistles from Slytherin, suspicious glances from all of the other houses), "...unfortunately Severus Junior's parents have passed away, and Severus Senior had to depart temporarily to settle some business."
The hall fell silent, not knowing how to react. Draco caught his eye and gave him a lazy nod. Snape stared glassily ahead, finding it hard to feel intimidating in this strange, awkward body with hundreds of eyes upon him. The Headmaster looked around shrewdly and resume