Better Be Slytherin!

*Chapter 10*: Chapter 10

Better Be Slytherin! – Chapter 10

By jharad17

Disclaimer: Not mine. Alas.

Summary: As a first year, Harry is sorted into Slytherin instead of Gryffindor, and no one is more surprised than his new Head of House.

Previously:

Neither of them expected the half smile that settled on Snape's face, or the next words out of his mouth. 'Mr. Flint,' Snape said, sounding almost pleased. 'I believe I have found you a Seeker.'

Severus watched as the expression on Potter's face went through various permutations from startled and ashamed all the way through shock and surprise and halting somewhere around disbelief mixed with joy. The boy's mouth hung agape, and Severus wanted little more than to shut it and wipe the idiotic grin from his face.

'A Seeker?' Flint's brow was furrowed. 'Who, sir?'

Try as he might, Severus could not hold back his sigh of annoyance. 'Why, Mr. Potter, of course.' He caught a jerked movement from the Brat from the corner of his eye, as if the boy could not believe it, still. 'Take him out before dinner today. Test his reflexes and teach him the rudiments, but if he does anywhere near as well on the pitch as he did on the lawn earlier, I'd say our chances at the Cup have risen exponentially.' He paused and glared at Flint's still furrowed brow. 'We have a very good chance at it.'

'Oh! Good, sir.' But now Flint scowled at the boy, very much like Severus himself must have, before he'd taken the Brat to the Infirmary. Before he'd seen him fly.

'Do not think I am condoning your risky behavior, Mr. Potter,' Severus cautioned, using a very quiet voice he brought out when special circumstances warranted, and was gratified to see wariness flare in the boy's eyes again. 'You very nearly found yourself in Madam Pomfrey's care again. I suggest you learn a modicum of restraint before you get yourself killed. And I plan to send this message home--'

The jerk was unmistakable this time. 'To the Dursleys?' Potter squawked. 'Please don't!'

'Do NOT interrupt me, Potter,' Severus growled, remembering he still had not heard from either of the blasted owls he'd sent to Surrey. 'As I was saying, this lesson will be driven home, one hopes, with the detentions you will serve this next week. You will have a new appreciation by the end of the week of the serious consequences for breaking rules, especially those designed for your protection. Am I clear?'

'Yes, sir. Thank you.' The boy's face, which had lost color when he thought Severus was sending a note home, now looked flushed, and he dropped his gaze.

'You are dismissed. I believe you have an hour before dinner . . .'

Potter nodded, and looked at Flint, who glared back.

Severus cleared his throat. 'Mr. Flint, if you would be so kind . . . the pitch awaits.'

'Oh, yes, sir. Come on, Potter.' With that, the large boy led the Brat out of the dungeon, and Severus let his heart finally settle back in his chest, from where it had lodged, at about the time he'd seen the Brat Who Lived to Make Everyone Fear for His Life hurtling through the air like a javelin aimed at the castle.

Then he sent a notice to the caretaker, Filch, to let him know to expect Draco Malfoy for detention. Perhaps a week scrubbing the mud from the Entrance Hall floor and combing the fleas out of Mrs. Norris' coat would teach him some humility. Or at least the value of not getting caught.

At dinner, after getting the report from Flint on the boy's exceptional talent, he had to gloat to Minerva. She was suitably annoyed . . . and jealous.

'Well it makes sense,' she snapped. 'After all, James was a very talented player.'

The words froze the smile on his face, but he made himself respond anyway. 'Ah, yes, and I can just imagine his pride, showing up for Quidditch games and cheering for Slytherin, waving a green and silver flag, holding--'

'That's quite enough, Severus,' she interrupted. 'You've made your point.'

He smirked. 'And it's worth a hundred and fifty, let's not forget.'

She rolled her eyes. 'As if you'd let me. Pass the potatoes, if you would.'

He did so, and took the opportunity to look over his Snakes, who were behaving themselves, for the most part. When he caught a glimpse of the Potter Brat speaking animatedly with Draco Malfoy, both of them sporting frowns, he wondered if they were discussing the information he'd given each of them to hold over the other. The son of Lucius Malfoy would have little trouble making use of such information, he knew, but he was looking forward to seeing what use the Brat would put it to.

Well, he supposed he'd find out, one way or the other.

That night, he set the Brat the task of chopping half keg of flobberworms. As before, Potter didn't complain or even look put out by the request, just went right to work. Severus watched as the boy's confidence grew at the task after a few mistarts. It was obvious he had never touched a flobberworm before, but just as obviously, he knew his way around a knife. The first was unsurprising, the latter . . .

As Potter cut one flobberworm lengthwise, then turned it to dice smoothly up the length, Severus stepped up behind him. 'Were you a chef in another life?'

Potter's shoulders twitched, but his knife did not pause. 'Something like that, sir.'

'Explain.'