you raise me up || harry potter

chapter 5: fate may rule you

»»————-　song:　————-««

august moon

★ gregory and the hawk ★

❝ don't undo the true chance that chooses you
face to face with a new day..

fate may rule you
and heart it fools you
to lose your sanity❞

♢ ♢ ♢

Snape never particularly liked children. And for that reason he knew from a young age that he could never do children the disservice of becoming a teacher. He would make a bad one, he knew, and that is why he would have liked to leave that job to someone more qualified. Like Dumbledore, or McGonagall. The night before his first night as a teacher, as he recalled, he threw up in the bathroom.

He fought a sigh as the doors of the Great Hall were opened. Another year of grading and patrolling and detentions, he thought sourly. And among those new students would be Helena Potter. Would she have red hair? Black hair? Green eyes? Hazel eyes? Pale and poignant like her mother? Darkly rich tone and self-assertive like his father? Some combination of those?

He restrained himself, and put it off until absolutely necessary—he would not do himself the displeasure of laying eyes on her until the last possible second. He watched the ceremony, trying to entertain himself. 

Bulstrode, Slytherin, Snape thought dispassionately as she walked up to the stool. Her entire family was Slytherin, of course. His prediction was proved correct moments later. In fact, all of his predictions proved correct. There was not a single pureblood of reasonable status that did not get sorted into Slytherin this year—with the exception of the newest Weasley, most likely, and their status was questionable—and Snape found himself drained as the ceremony wore on. What are the odds that someone like—Snape grit his teeth until his jaw ached at the thought—James Potter and his father before from a reputable pureblood household, was sorted into Gryffindor?

Slim. Snape knew that. James Potter had been an anomaly. And yet he hoped, as the pale face of Draco Malfoy bobbed its way through the crowd, that something would change. But he knew it was a foolish wish: if Draco were to be sorted into Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, he would almost instantly be disowned. Or withdrawn from Hogwarts. Ravenclaw? Snape knew the boy used his sharp intelligence not for intelligence itself but for himself. No, Slytherin was better for his sake...

The Hat was placed on Draco's head. Snape expected it to ring out with a confident "Slytherin" before it even touched the boy, but for the first time that night, he was wrong. 

When more than five seconds passed without a single utterance from the Hat, Snape was forced to shatter every presumption he had about Draco Malfoy. The boy rather reminded him of James Potter when he strutted around the school... except Draco was filled with notions of pureblood supremacy and placed high importance on cunning and manipulation. But when ten seconds passed, almost every faculty member looked like they had been hit in the face by a rock. 

Perhaps the Hat is considering Ravenclaw, Snape dared to think hopefully. 

Twenty seconds passed when the Hat called out, "SLYTHERIN!" and the obvious tension in the room dissipated. Of course Draco Malfoy of all people was put in Slytherin! How foolish to think otherwise, the faces of the professors seemed to say. Snape bitterly watched Draco slide off the stool. He looked pale and nervous, not his swaggering, arrogant creature Snape had expected. 

What did the Hat say? And what did Draco reply?

Snape no longer cared about the rest. Nott, Montague, Parkinson... what did they matter anymore?

"Potter, Helena."

Snape stiffened. Without even thinking he searched the mass of first years with a sweeping gaze... and then he saw her, and Snape thought the universe must be mocking him, for Helena Potter, with cropped black hair and thin face, looked exactly like her father. Any inkling of hope that the girl might look like her mother and not like her father vanished instantly, and was replaced by a gripping rage.

James Potter had come back from the grave to mock him. There was no other explanation. Why, the girl even looked like boy, and those ratty clothes under her robes as she walked up to the stool where the Hat was placed... what on earth was she playing at? What were those worn, dirty trainers doing on her feet, peeking out from under her robes? Where was her confidence? Why did she look like the Hat would bite her as she picked it up, staring out at the crowd with terror in her eyes—Snape couldn't tell what color they were—as she dropped the Hat over them?

And then the waiting began. Snap had never seen a Hatstall of this extent in all his years of teaching, although he knew McGonagall had sat on that same stool for five and a half minutes before being placed in Gryffindor. The clock was approaching three minutes, four minutes, five minutes... Snape snuck a look at Dumbledore. The blasted twinkle in his eyes grew brighter with each passing minute. Every student in the hall held their breath. When the five and a half minute mark was passed, there was a collective gasp and murmur. This was a true Hatstall, surpassing even McGonagall's.

A drama queen from the very start, Snape thought scathingly. Putting on a show for everyone. 

That scared facade must have been just that: a facade.

Snape resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He thought it rather foolish of the Hat to prolong the inevitable—just put the girl in Gryffindor already, for Merlin's sake! He could already see how happy Albus would be, how he would take the girl under his wing, gain her trust, the perfect pawn—

"GRYFF—"

What?

"SLYTHERIN!"

Snape sat stock-still. The Hat... changed its mind. Unheard of. Was that even possible? And... its final decision had been his house. Severus Snape's House. 

Even in his shock, Snape managed to turn his head to look at Dumbledore.

Blasted man. His smile had grown even wider.