Chapter Text
The Great Hall
September 1st, 1991
The Great Hall was already roaring when Severus Snape walked towards the staff table.
The students of Hogwarts were about to arrive. He had been dreading this day for eleven years.
Who would have known that the young boy would survive all of it to attend Hogwarts? Who knew? Did the boy know how things would change the moment he walked through those doors?
Severus could feel it in the air. The boy who lived was somewhere out there on the great lake, sitting in a boat, sailing toward the castle without the faintest idea of what was waiting for him inside it.
He wished the boy hadn't grasped the Hogwarts acceptance letter in the first place. Why were they so determined to inform him of his true nature? That ugly Petunia had done a remarkable job concealing it, he'd give her that.
Regardless. He would have known eventually, wouldn't he? Just as Severus had known, years ago, when he was young, and the stacks of paper had started flying around his mother's head without anyone asking them to.
Magic found its people, whether they wanted to be found or not.
A faint music echoed around the enchanted ceiling.
A new addition.
Severus looked down the table. Elara Black and Flitwick were deep in conversation about the new additions to the music classes and the acoustic charms. He could hear fragments of it “resonance, yes, but the upper register needs” and then something he couldn't catch.
"Pathetic," he said, under his breath.
If it were up to him, he would have strengthened the castle wards instead of charming the Great Hall ceiling to hum. But it was not up to him. It was apparently up to Dumbledore, who had decided that what Hogwarts needed this particular September was a music teacher.
And not just any music teacher.
Elara Orion Black.
Dumbledore had told him precisely that he trusted her. That her presence here this year was necessary. That she could be around Harry Potter. Around the Sorcerer's Stone, which had already been targeted at Gringotts and brought to Hogwarts.
Severus had multiple questions.
Tonight, his mission would begin. The boy would walk through those doors, and everything Severus had been managing for eleven years would become immediate and real.
He had not spoken to her since the supper.
He had avoided her successfully for two days. It had been easy, easier than it should have been, and he was aware that the ease was mutual, that she was doing the same thing from the other direction, and that they had arrived at the same wordless agreement without discussing it.
He knew he would have to face her eventually.
"Evening, Severus," Flitwick said cheerfully from down the table.
"Evening," Severus replied, without looking up.
From somewhere further along, Quirrell's voice arrived with its troubled pronunciation
"B-beautiful work, Miss Black."
"That's kind of you, Professor," Elara said
The students had started arriving in the Great Hall, and the sounds rose like a beehive and then, to his surprise, settled into something almost melodic.
Her doing he thought.
While everyone settled into the four tables, Elara looked at nothing in particular, detached from everything around her. Severus glanced at her every once in a while.
She looked impeccable. Annoyingly so.
Her dress was a square-neck black lace, with sleek gauntlet sleeves that covered most of her hands. Every detail of her was thoughtfully placed.
She was overdressed for the occasion. Why would he care? She was a Black.
The doors of the Great Hall reopened.
The first-year students stormed in — quite scared, not knowing what to expect — alongside Professor McGonagall, who moved through them with the calm efficiency.
Severus searched with his eyes.
He looked and looked until he saw that small, malnourished boy.
James.
He looked exactly like his sinister father.
Innocent.
Severus couldn't believe that this boy had diminished the Dark Lord. He couldn't take his eyes off him. The mission would be ten times harder than he had imagined.
Then he found the boy's eyes.
Green.
Her eyes.
The room tilted slightly. The chair felt unsteady beneath him.
Lily.
Minerva began the sorting ceremony.
The children clustered into a kind of line in front of her, waiting for their fate to be decided. The ancient, worn hat sat ready.
One by one.
Malfoy.
Longbottom.
Another Weasley.
And then —
Harry Potter.
The room went silent. Even the enchanted ceiling calmed. The melody paused, as if it too was waiting.
He walked toward the stool and sat down. The hat fell over his eyes. A long moment passed.
The hat was quiet for four minutes. Severus indeed counted them.
Severus looked at Elara involuntarily.
For the first time that evening, she was already looking at him. Their eyes met, just briefly. Enough for them to understand. An exchange about what was happening, what it meant.
Then —
GRYFFINDOR.
The room erupted.
The Gryffindor table was on its feet, shouting with joy. And the enchanted ceiling caught it, the melody resuming, warmer now, fuller, her charm absorbing the chaos and shaping it into something that almost, almost felt like celebration.
Severus looked at her.
Her chest lowered in an aggressive exhale. Severus never looked at her nor the boy again for the rest of the ceremony.
And the music played on.