Chapter Text
The first that James saw him it was a common and rather annoying day.
The September 1st was a quite inconvenient day when you were not the one seeing Hogwarts for the first time, especially if you were a prefect, James should have just settled down at being the Quidditch captain, but no Potter you have to be a fucking prefect too on top of that, as if he did not hade enough things to do.
This year Dumbledore came to the conclusion that, as if the prefects of the seventh year did not have anything else to do, due to complications on last year students' first time on the train they would be on board of the express Hogwarts to keep things going smoothly with the running-nose kids. The train hadn't even started moving yet and James had already stopped a fight between two boys of rival purebloods families, made a crying kid clear their messy face, prevented a little girl from falling out of the window where she was hanging halfway out, and helped a whole bunch of brats get to their seats.
By the time that he found an empty cabin for himself, James was decided to not have kids. Especially when the blood cabin door was open by two kids.
James could recognise someone from the Black family from afar, as well as any other pureblood from here to Europe, and the boy strutting in front of him was a Black from head to toe; luxurious dark hair and bright blue eyes that probably was more than enough to get him out of trouble. The other one was more mediocre, dirt blond and some kind of brown and greenish eyes, a muggleborn much likely.
“Can we stay here? The other wagons are full.” The Black kid did not wait for his response before entering the cabin and climbing onto the seat to place his briefcase in the train compartment.
The other one was more reserved, shy perhaps, but followed right after James nodded his chin at him. If James close his eyes now he would see his chance of peace escaping through his fingers quicker than he expected.
When both kids settle down on their seats, James had already accepted his fate and was now smiling at them, he did not need some spoiled brats ruining his reputation as the best prefect because of his poor humor.
“Why don't we introduce ourselves? My name is James Potter, it is a pleasure to meet you.” It wasn't.
“I’m Sirius Black and this is my friend Remus Lupin, nice to meet you too.” The kid even held out his hand for James to shake. It was quite weird to shake such a small and kid-like hand, but he could not give the kid the cold shoulder.
Before James could greet the other kid too the door was opened once again, this time by two little girls, one who was already dressed with school robes.
“Oh, sorry, we didn't know that the wagon was busy.” The one in the front was the one speaking, she reminded him of his mother's porcelain dolls, big green eyes and a full head of baby-like red curls.
“It 's okay! You can stay here, James wouldn't mind, right?” Blue puppy eyes looking at him with such hope. He wanted to pop them like grapes. Instead he nodded, still smiling.
“Thank you.” While she entered the cabin he noticed that she was holding her briefcase with one hand and the small girl's with the other.
He got up to help then put their cases in the compartment, his mother had given him manners, and the black hair girl looked like one hard wind would knock her over. He sat between the two boys so they could stay in his seat. The ginger had smiled but the other was looking at him with cautious eyes.
Such a weird girl. She has really dark hair and eyes, James would say that they were darker than a room without light, her eyes were big, really big, with long and full eyelashes, her eyebrows full and thick, and even with the babyfat in her face, he noticed that she has a well defined cheekbone, her nose was quite marcante as well, all long angles and sharp shape too big for her small face, her lips held that pink color that all kids had and it was forming a lovely pout at each passing second that he spent staring at her. She looked away first, blushing. Cute.
With a clap of hands and a wider grin he started the most annoying train travel of his life.
“Well, why don't we all present ourselves and make this trip less boring? I’m James Potter, those are Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.” He pointed each boy at his side, Remus at his right in front of the ginger and Sirius on his left facing the quiet one.
“Lilian Evans, but you can call me Lily.” She, unlike Sirius, did not talk for her friend, instead she looked at her with encouragement in her green eyes.
And with a grim face and a sigh the other gave in.
“Severus Snape.” And nothing more.
Well, that was…unexpected.
“Sev doesn't like to talk much, he is shy.” She whispered the last part out loud like it was a secret, looking at her friend with laughter in her eyes and when he turned to the boy. Gods a boy , really? he still cannot believe it; James saw the indignation there, the denial would most likely come soon.
“I’m not shy, it's just pointless to hold small talk.” There it was. The boy stole a quick glance at his direction, big eyes looking at him with something that James could not quite put a finger on it.
What a sour tongue, but James would be lying if he said that the answer did not fit the boy’s glooming presence.
“And why is that, shy boy, think of yourself too high to waste your time with the rest of us?” The youngest spawn of the Black family was going to be a problem, James sensed it in the shit eating grin on this brats face as he provoked the other boy. He hopes that this particular problem befell on Slytherin like the other ones of his kind. “With that arrogance, I wouldn't be surprised if you were sorted into Slytherin.”
Oh, no.
“And so what if I did? Slytherin is a House for the ambitious and shrewd, my mother was a slytherin.” The boy looked proud of his mother’s House, Sirius on the other hand looked disgusted.
Oh no, no no no.
He knew that expression, almost every Grifindor had that same expression when in front of a Slytherin.
“The house of villains and traitors, that's what they truly are. The true great House is Grifindor, there is where the glory and bravery lay. Right, James?” The kid looked at him for support, probably encouraged by his uniform and prefect's badge marked by the characteristic colors of Gryffindor.
Fuck
And look, is not that he was a good samaritan that preached for the love of all, alright? But when he turned to the gloomy boy ready to agree with the Kid’s words and was facing the big eyes of a boy who seemed to be preparing to be humiliated by a provocative little brat and a man older than him, James' words turned into dust in his mouth.
“Gryffindor is a place for the ones of courage, bravery and loyalty, and the ones with those attributes are more than welcome in our House.” The boy in front of him lifts up his chin as if preparing himself for a punch, “And Slytherin is for the cunning, resourceful and determined; I’m certain that your mother must be a very intelligent witch if that was her House. And I have no doubt that you will be brilliant in whichever House you are selected for.”
Merlin, if Lestrange heard him say this the son of a bitch would never let it pass.
The boy was looking at him with something close to astonishment, as surprised at his words as James himself, then the loveliest thing began to happen – he blushed. Sweet baby pink across pale cheeks, eyes drifted downward maidenlike, suddenly reminding James why he had mistaken him for a girl.
The kid at his side made a noise of protest that James fervently ignored, completely captivated by the sight before him. Until another voice made itself present.
“Ravenclaw is also good.” Lupin, was looking in the general direction of them, he seemed to be trying to fuse with his seat as their eyes locked in him. “A-a good House, I mean.”
Snape was fast to recover, much to James displeasure, and fixed the kid with an inquisitive look that seemed to drain all the courage from him. The girl, on the contrary, was now engaged in the new subject.
“Ravenclaw? That one is for the intelligent, right? Severus told me about them.” She was so bright, James wonders how the two of them became friends, being so opposed to each other.
And now they all were looking at him as if he was their personal copy of Hogwarts: A History.
"Indeed, Ravenclaw is for those with great intellect and a thirst for knowledge; it is a wonderful house for those with a keen interest in the unknown. Many of the wizards who created the spells we use today came from there.” Professor McGonagall would have shed tears of pride at his educational speech – James didn’t really care about the history behind the creation of spells, but he was good enough at pretending he did.
“From Slytherin too,” came a quiet voice. That boy would have a lovely voice when he grew up.
“Excuse me?”
“You said that most of the spells we use were created by Ravenclaw wizards, but there are also many that were created by Slytherins.” Snape didn’t look at him as he spoke, too busy plucking a loose thread from his worn robe, a faint blush still lingering on his pale cheeks.
“Dark spells, is that what you mean. Nothing good comes from those slimy snakes.” The Black boy would be a problem.
“Actually, Severus is right, Sirius. The Patronus charm, for example, was created by Elizabetha Gaunt over five hundred years ago; she was a Slytherin student, and I don’t think we can classify the Patronus as a Dark spell.” Why, by Morgana’s soft tits, he was still defending that nest of snakes was a mystery.
But he liked the way the little boy was now looking at him from beneath his eyelashes; it made him want to encourage him a little more.
“Melin, a wizard known for his benevolent demeanor, was a Slytherin. The House you are selected to does not turn you inherently good or evil.” That fact had already led to countless pointless arguments with Bellatrix; that bitch had failed her year and wanted to show off by paying allegiance to a wizard who’d been dead for ages.
Bloody delusional Death Eaters.
“Wait, did Merlin really exist?! I thought he was just a story.” The girl – Evan, he thought – looked ecstatic. Severus looked as though he’d been through this topic countless times before.
“I told you he was real, Lily.”
“You also told me that Homer was a wizard who wrote his books based on real events that happened, so I’m sorry if I’m a bit sceptical.”
James couldn’t help but frown; the girl really was a Muggle-born through and through.
“But he spoke the truth, young lady. You can still see the ruins of Troy and the burial site of Achilles and Patroclus in the wizarding world; it’s a well-known tourist attraction. You’ll come across it in your History of Magic lessons.” It was the most interesting part of all of Binns’s unbearably tedious lessons.
“See, I told you.” Snape sounded as though he’d been trying not to look too snooty; he was failing miserably, at least he was trying.
Evan looked dumbfounded, her mouth opening and closing in obvious surprise.
Seriously, the boy seemed quite intelligent, and if he knew so much about the wizarding world, he was likely a half-blood – so why hadn’t she believed him? Achilles’ story wasn’t even the most unbelievable of all the events in the wizarding world.
But, come to think of it, Muggles and their offspring tend to be rather obtuse and closed-minded when it comes to anything new or outside their own reality, so her scepticism was to be expected.
Before anyone could say another word, the cabin door was flung open by Alice; his fellow prefect was holding a rat so fat that James was amazed she could hold it so high. Her prefect badge was missing and her robes were covered in scratches of various sizes.
“They’re—they’re trying to, ahrg, feed Nott’s rat, Merlin, to Miss Whisky.” She gasped between words, her sweat forming a moustache that was rather unpleasant to look at.
Miss Whisky was the name of the train driver’s orange cat; he took her on every journey, no matter how much the pupils tried to warn him that the creature was the devil incarnate.
And here he was, thinking his journey couldn’t possibly have ended any better.
James turned to the children in the cabin with the most contrite expression he could muster at that moment, a sad smile turning his words properly regretful; he could already feel the vein in his throat beginning to throb.
“It looks like we’ll have to say goodbye. It’s been a very interesting chat; I hope we’ll meet again soon. Perhaps you’ll be sorted into the best house at Hogwarts!” Please, no.
James stood up and headed towards the corridor to a chorus of rather enthusiastic ‘See you later, James!’; the Black heir’s voice was the most prominent among them, just as the absence of another was.
"Second best." That was what he heard once the others had fallen silent; the tiny voice coming from the dark mop of hair.
"I beg your pardon?" James turned from where he was standing, with half his body already out of the cab, to look at the cheeky lad.
"Slytherin is the best, of course." And James knew when he was being teased; for someone who couldn’t look even him in the eye, that little bloke had some nerve.
A surprised sigh escaped his lips; James knew he was staring at Snape like an idiot, Alice was shouting his name at the end of the corridor, but he couldn’t hold back a stifled chuckle, which then turned into a loud laugh.
He laughed so hard that the air was sucked from his lungs for a few moments, turning into a wheeze.
James answered the boy once his breath was normal again, laughter coloring his words.
“Is that so? Why don’t you show me just how much better Slytherin is at the end of the year? The House of whoever gets the House Cup wins.” James didn’t know why he was bickering with a first-year over something so trivial, but the sparkle of interest in those big, dark eyes was quite charming.
“What’ll the winner’s prize be?”
James hadn’t thought it through that far, but he doubted he wouldn’t be able to give the boy anything he asked for – if he won, that is. The wonders of money.
“The winner can ask the loser for anything, how about that?”
He noticed in the corner of his eye the other children in the carriage looking from one to the other as if they were watching a Quidditch match.
He looked more intently at Snape, who was clearly weighing up the pros and cons of the bet in his mind; James could practically hear the cogs turning inside his head.
“All right.”
“All right?” James hadn’t expected the boy to agree.
“When Slytherin wins, you’ll give me anything I want.” Such certainty on that little face.
“If Slytherin wins, if.” But James nevertheless held out his hand for the boy to shake; a bet was a bet, and James Potter was a man of his word.
Snape looked at his hand as if it were poisonous, a frown clear between his dark browns, before standing up and shaking it with a surprisingly firm handshake; before he could pull away, James held his hand a little more firmly and leaned in to whisper in his ear.
“For the record, Gryffindor’s been unbeaten for six years.”
“James Potter!” Alice’s voice rang out once more.
He stepped away from the boy, who was frowning once again; with a wink and a final wave to the children, he headed towards the disaster that awaited him.
…
The sorting was tedious on a good day and unbearable on a normal day; James was having a terrible day, so just imagine how little he appreciated the out-of-tune singing of that old hat.
“Come on, Jay, with that face you’re going to scare all the new students away from our House.” Frank Longbottom was a nice bloke, a bit shy – but who wouldn’t be when you had a dictator for a mum? James hadn’t taken much to him at the start of their years sharing a dormitory; Frank snored like a pig and was worse than a drill sergeant when it came to tidiness, but he eventually wore James down.
“I’m sure your little girlfriend’s already told you what she put me through earlier,” James replied dryly, just to see Frank choke on his own saliva.
How someone like Frank had managed to win Alice over, of all people, was a mystery to him.
“Shh, the sorting is about to start.” That was how Frank responded to his taunt; James could see his freckled face turn scarlet – it was bloody hilarious.
James paid little attention to the names being called; apart from a slight grimace when he heard the boy Black’s name being drawn for his House, he didn’t care enough to even pretend to be interested – he was hungry.
It was a redhead coming to sit at the Gryffindor table that finally caught his attention; it was Snape’s little friend. Speaking of which, where was his new House rival?
James leaned forward slightly over the table, trying to spot the boy, but to no avail.
The lad must be among the last to be called; it must be a right pain having a surname beginning with S in an alphabetical roll call—well, not as bad as Z, that’s for sure, he mused as he looked at the bored face of the heiress Zibiane.
Fawley, Ravenclaw.
Greengrass, Slytherin.
Hermet, Hufflepuff.
Imaitef, Ravenclaw.
Johnson, Gryffindor.
Good heavens, so many children.
Who on earth was having so many children in wartime? Did they have no common sense?
Parkinson, Slytherin.
Rosier, Slytherin.
“Snape, Severus.” McGonagall’s voice boomed through the hall; in her hand was the Sorting Hat in all its decrepit glory.
From the back of the meagre handful of students remaining to be sorted came he—smaller than the others and looking even smaller with his shoulders hunched inwards and his head bowed.
Severus Snape.
Severus; severe, serious, emperor of Rome.
A rather intense name for a boy who looked more like a cornered fawn.
Severus’s feet dangled in the air as he sat down on the stool, the Sorting Hat was placed on his head without ceremony, hiding his face from view; the Hat took longer than James had expected to decide on Snape’s House. For someone so passionate about Slytherin, he’d expected Snape to be sorted the moment the Hat came near him, as was usually the case with most students—James himself had been one of them.
“Slytherin!”
James wasn’t even surprised; he clapped along with the Slytherins because he wanted to, and ignored the questioning glances from his classmates because he could. He saw the now-Slytherin turn to look at the Evans girl – he’d called her by the wrong name earlier, James realised during the sorting– and before turning to head for the Slytherin table, their eyes met, briefly but long enough for James to see just how proud the lad was to have been sorted into Slytherin.
James placed a hand over his chest in a mocking gesture and saw Snape’s mouth curve as if he were trying to stifle a laugh.
That little snake was truly adorable.
The rest of the evening was rather unmemorable; the banquet finally began once the last student had had their robes marked with their house symbol, and James stuffed himself like never before. Now he understood why most parents were overweight – if James had to deal with children as troublesome as these every day, he’d take his frustrations out on food too.
James must have been a less troublesome child, as his parents were quite calm and exercise every day for as long as James could remember. Well, at home, that is; at school, James had to admit he was every teacher’s nightmare. He was sure Professor McGonagall’s hair had been darker and had fewer grey hairs when he arrived, but who knows – it might just be her age as well.
Once the last of the students were well fed, the elves vanished with the leftover food. James and Alice were in charge of showing the new students to the Common Room this year, so he made his way to the end of the table where the first-years usually sat. Alice was already there, holding her clipboard with the names of the students and the groups that would be sharing a room for the next few years. James had almost expected to feel a sense of nostalgia, but in the end he was more than ready to leave this place; these stone walls chilled even the hottest fire, and James was beginning to feel like a dying flame.
“My name is Alice and this is James. We’re the Gryffindor prefects in charge of you this year. Why don’t you come with us? We’ll take you to what will be your new home for the next few years.” They didn’t know it, but Alice was repeating, word for word, the very same speech that last year’s prefect had given. James had to stifle his laughter with a cough.
James let Alice lead the way, reciting her pre-rehearsed tour speech at every new bend they came to, whilst he followed behind, herding the students into a single little cluster like a flock of impressionable sheep.
Just the sight of Black’s dark head of hair was starting to give him a headache.
This term’s code phrase for the Fat Lady was 'Babbling baboons babbling in a bunch', courtesy of James. That password always made the Fat Lady giggle, and the happier she was, the less likely she was to tattle on his night-time escapades to McGonagall. Ever since he’d discovered this, James had made it his life’s mission to come up with the daftest must most ridiculous passwords for the Common Room; the others didn’t mind him stealing their turn to change the password, and even if they did, no one had the nerve to tell him to stop.
It was quite handy to have the reputation that James had.
”-now everyone off to your rooms. Lessons start early in the morning and we don’t want you to be late on the first day of term. When you go upstairs, your names will be on the door of the common room alongside those of your new roommates. Good night!”
Even the tone in which she said ‘Good night!’ was the same as last year – hilarious.
James went up to his own room along with the first-years, walking straight ahead without bothering to speak to the boys who stared at him with wide eyes. James was quite used to the effect he had on people – and he wasn’t even being arrogant; ask anyone and they’d tell you just how unique James Potter was in everything he did. James wasn’t going to lie and say he didn’t like the compliments and the ease with which he could get away with anything just with a smile and a charming nod, but having children look at him as if he were a gift from Merlin after the day he’d had with those very children was less flattering.
His room was blissfully empty; his mates were all just as busy as James. Fabian had been sulking in the library since last year; the dark cloud of exams seemed to follow the Prewett all over the castle; and his twin brother, Gideon, wasn’t far behind. Frank was, in all likelihood, glued to his girlfriend’s side, as he’d been ever since the two of them’d finally decided to stop messing about and actually had some sex, and only the gods knew where Caradoc had got himself to; James hadn’t seen him during dinner and doubted he’d see him before tomorrow’s lessons – that man was about as predictable as the wind directions in the desert.
James flung himself onto the bed with an exhausted sigh. Still in his day clothes and with his shoes on, he knew he had to get ready for bed; he had Quidditch training in the morning before lessons, and if he didn’t sleep now, tomorrow he’d be worse than a mummy for the rest of the day.
Throwing an arm over his eyes, James felt his temple throbbing; for some reason, the image of the doe-like boy popped into his head – those eyes really were something else. Dragging himself across the bed, James slipped his hand under an pillow where the map was.
James hadn’t given it a name; he just called it ‘the map’. It was a clever little thing he’d created in his fourth year so he could sneak about without getting caught. The idea had first occurred to him in his second year, but it took a full two years before he managed to cast the right spell and find the right combination of runes for what he wanted. In the end, his efforts meant that James knew more about the castle, the Forbidden Forest and Hogsmeade than anyone else.
Right, perhaps the way he'd gathered the information James needed to unlock all the houses and shops in Hogsmeade wasn’t exactly within the bounds of the law, but he hadn’t been caught, so…
James searched the map for the boy’s name and found him alongside what he could only describe as the worst possible roommates, Rosier, Mulciber, Avery and Wilkes. Poor lad – they couldn’t have come from worse families to be sharing a room with a half-blood, Avery in particular; James knew that lad’s cousin and it made him angry just to think about it.
The kid won't make it to the end of the year.
The thought didn't please him – quite the opposite, in fact; James felt his headache worsen considerably in such a short space of time.
James would check the doe in the morning; he’d make up some excuse about being a responsible mayor for the boy. He didn’t know where this urge to play the nanny had come from, but James always trusted his instincts, and if they were telling him to go and look after the kid, so be it – for his own peace of mind, if nothing else.
‘Argh, I’m so tired.’