The boy's placid expression didn't reassure Severus Snape. The whiteness of the skin showed the many months spent without seeing the sun.

"Poppy?"

"Yes, professor?"

"His condition hasn't improved in the three months that he's been here, has it?'

"Unfortunately, I don't think it has. He's just paler and thinner."

Snape felt guilty for not having devoted more time to his student, but the times had been hectic those latest months: Umbridge taking over Hogwarts, the Dark Lord penetrating Harry Potter's dreams, the battle for the prophecy in the Department of Mysteries.

The whole story hadn't been unveiled yet. First, Montague had vanished. After having been warned of his disappearance, Umbridge had sent Filch and the Slytherin Prefect in search of him. Montague had only reappeared two weeks later, jammed inside a toilet on the fourth floor.

Those events deeply shocked Snape. Having been himself a victim of abuse as a child, he didn't tolerate the idea that his students could suffer similar treatment. After all, everything indicated that the incident with Montague had been a... "prank".

A prank! Three months later, the boy hadn't recovered yet. Despite seeming to understand what people said to him, Montague had trouble expressing himself. And he seemed to be in deep depression. He couldn't even find the energy to get out of bed. In fact, he had also co-ordination and movement difficulties. What had been done to Montague was a crime, and the criminal remained unpunished.

Summer holidays were beginning. Snape would ask the Headmaster's permission to spend them in Hogwarts. He wanted to make use of his free time to do some Potions research. The next day, Pomfrey would go on holiday, and Montague wouldn't have an adequate place to stay. Snape had decided that the boy would stay at Hogwarts under his care. With a little help from the house-elves, naturally.

"Poppy, when he wakes up, please give him lunch and then call me. I'm going to take him for a walk outside. He's very pale. A little sunlight might do him some good."

After getting out of the infirmary, Snape went directly to the Headmaster's office.

"Bursting Bugs!"

The gargoyle sprang to life and leapt aside; the wall behind it split in two to reveal the stone staircase that moved continually upwards like a spiral escalator. Snape stepped onto the moving stairs; the wall closed behind him and he was led to the oak door that... had already been opened.

"Severus, what a nice surprise!"

As if I didn't know you, old codger. As if I didn't know that you were waiting for me, and that you already know what I'm going to say.

"Albus, I'm going straight to the point: Montague hasn't recovered yet. I can't believe that nobody is concerned by this case, that nobody is investigating it, that nobody is trying to find out the culprit! Only the culprit can give us indications of what happened to him and how we could try to heal him. And the culprit has to be exemplarily punished!"

"Sit down, please, Severus."

"Albus..."

"Calm down, my boy. I agree with you."

Reluctantly, Snape took a seat before the Headmaster's desk.

Dumbledore stared at him approvingly. "When this sad event occurred, Umbridge was in charge. Now, three months have passed. It's more difficult to find evidence, to make inquiries."

Snape got up immediately. "If you were committed to this case, the culprit would have been found. Call Potter and question him. I am certain he knows who did it."

"Don't forget that everybody is presumed innocent until proven guilty, Severus. And suppose I call Harry here and ask him if he knows who did it, and he simply tells us that he doesn't know? What do you suggest I do?"

"Of course the brat will say he doesn't know! When has he ever spoken the truth, Albus? But I ask you, what is Veritaserum for?"

"Severus!" Dumbledore got up suddenly and stared at the younger wizard, bewildered. "I'm going to pretend that I didn't hear what you've just said. Are you suggesting that I resort to contemptible methods to make a student to confess?"

Snape glared daggers at the Headmaster. "Oh, you are always so righteous, so irreproachable. Goodness personified. But if the student were a Slytherin, you wouldn't have so many concerns, would you? How many times did you use Legilimency on me?"

For an instant, Dumbledore lowered his eyes. When he raised them again, there was a different light in them, a light that didn't transmit his characteristic joviality. The older wizard's expression seemed to reflect guilt and pain. "Many times, Severus, I had to follow paths that I wouldn't have chosen if I could have avoided them. All in the name of my beliefs. In your case, in the name of the affection I held for you, and that I knew to be mutual, even if all your words and actions seemed to deny it."

Snape narrowed his eyes, his face twisting in a pained grimace. Manipulative bastard. Even now you know precisely how to twist me around your little finger. But this time I won't let you. "Precisely. When it suits you, you are ready and willing to break your bloody rules. However, between Montague and the Golden Boy, Montague doesn't stand a chance. Why is it that this reminds me of what used to happen between me and your beloved James, Peter, Sirius and Remus?" Snape pronounced the name of each of his archenemies between clenched teeth.

"I have already paid for my sins in full, my boy. I almost lost you, and even now I have to see you suffering due to the consequences of my acts."

Snape shook his head, relentless. "Albus, you are committing the same error again, when you protect that selfish and undisciplined brat. I don't want to hear any more of your false laments."

Dumbledore circled his desk and touched Snape's shoulders gently. "Don't worry, Severus, your student will recover. I'm going to see him as soon as possible, and then I'll talk with you again."

Your student. That's how he sees Slytherin students. They are not *his* students. They are *mine*.

Indeed, the Headmaster had called him that same night and suggested the use of a potion based on his thesis on the "twelve uses of Dragon blood". It was a complex potion, which should magically stimulate certain brain areas. However, because nobody knew exactly what Montague's problem was, the results were unforeseeable.

Dumbledore had given Snape permission to spend his holidays in Hogwarts. He claimed to be delighted with that, because he himself would stay there, and they would spend "a wonderful time together".

Montague remained in the hospital wing for the entire length of the holidays. Snape had taken one week to prepare the potion. During that week, Snape had visited and taken him for a walk every single day.

When the potion was ready, Snape began to minister it to Montague on a regular basis. At first, he didn't notice any improvement. One day, however, Snape took him to the Quidditch pitch. As soon as they entered, something seemed to revive inside the boy, who now had a healthier appearance. Noticing the boy's reaction, Snape started to practice with him.

At the end of July, the students' NEWT and OWL marks arrived in Hogwarts. In the staff-room, Snape browsed the lists of Potion marks. Obviously, Hermione Granger had taken an "O". Draco Malfoy too. Ah-hah. Harry Potter had got an "E". That was wonderful. He wouldn't have to stand the Golden Boy's presence in his classes anymore.

"Severus?"

"Minerva? Already back from your holiday?"

"I came to talk with the Headmaster. I see that you have the list of the OWL marks..."

Severus Snape only arched one eyebrow at the Deputy-Headmistress, intrigued.

McGonagall sat by his side at the long oak table. "Severus, I don't know if you are aware that Harry Potter has manifested an interest in becoming an Auror."

"I'm not aware of anything regarding your protege, Minerva. Anyway, if that was Potter's intention, he should have worked harder in order to attain higher marks in Potions."

"That's precisely the problem. All his other marks are sufficient, by the other teachers' standards. But your standards are too high, Severus."

"These are my rules, and I've been implementing them for fourteen years. I won't change them just for the sake of Gryffindor's Golden Boy."

"Isn't there anything that I can do to make you change your mind?"

Snape narrowed his eyes and sneered. "Have you come here to bribe me, Minerva?"

McGonagall straightened up, pretending to be offended.

Snape shook his head. "If I let him pass, I'll have to do the same to all the students who took an 'E'."

"But not all the students who took an 'E' want to study Potions."

Snape quickly browsed the list. "Five other students got an 'E'. Two Hufflepuffs, a Ravenclaw and, from your House, Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom. Oh no. Longbottom! Minerva, you don't expect me to accept him into my NEWT class!" There was a spark of amusement in Snape's eyes.

"Neville is very good at Herbology. It would be a shame if he couldn't develop his abilities by being allowed to study Potions. Potions and Herbology are two sides of the same coin."

"Aha, but it wasn't for Longbottom that you came here to plead. It was for The Boy Who Lived."

"I admit that I haven't thought about Neville. But now I see that Neville's problem only reinforces my case."

"So, what do you have to offer me? Don't think that I would accept bargains involving the House points. You and I know very well that those points are a fiction, that in the end it's Albus who decides everything. And he always favours the Gryffindors."

"Severus!" McGonagall pretended to be shocked. "Very well. I... I have already talked to Albus about... about what I'm going to propose to you."

Snape snarled something incomprehensible, than faced his colleague. "And pray, what would that be?"

"We can have a Slytherin Head Boy this term."

A black eyebrow was raised. "This is interesting, indeed. Naturally, Flitwick and Sprout don't have a voice in this matter, considering that the choice belongs to the Headmaster..." Snape looked at McGonagall suspiciously. "Please tell me it wasn't the old meddler that has sent you here."

"Of course it wasn't. I have given my word to Harry that I would fight until my last breath to make him an Auror."

"Ha! If you haven't regretted it yet, you will soon. Right. Of course the old fool, who drools all over his Golden Boy..."

"Severus!"

"... must have found your idea superb. Very well. Axel Lescaux will make an excellent Head Boy.

McGonagall looked surprised. "Axel? I thought you would choose Gorm, or Estevez."

"Just because they keep licking my boots? Oh, Minerva, I resent that you would hold me in such low regard. And that you can't understand Slytherin's sense of hierarchy. Lescaux has character, he's not a sycophant."

"Don't be silly, Severus. It's not that. It's just that Axel, despite being an intelligent boy and having a strong character, is not a leader in the Slytherin House."

Snape's face acquired a sombre tone. Draco is a leader, but I hope he will never be appointed Head Boy. Salazar forgive me, but I would rather see a Gryffindor in this position than Draco. Unless he changes drastically, but honestly, my hopes are not high.

Snape sighed and recovered his sardonic appearance. "Axel might not be a leader, but he will know how to make himself respected. Even by your little lions."

The two teachers stared at each other for a long time. McGonagall arched both her eyebrows.

"So?"

"I... would like to include another item in our agreement, Deputy-Headmistress," said Snape, in a mock-polite tone.

"You Slytherins aren't easily satisfied, are you?"

"It's not for my sake that I'm going to ask you this. It's for his own good. I would you to... abstain from interfering in the discipline that I might have to enforce upon Harry Potter. His knowledge of Potions is quite below the level required on my NEWT class, and he must make an effort to catch up. I want you to give me carte blanche so that I can put him on the right track."

"Severus, you're obsessed with torturing the boy! Harry is not James, when will you understand that?"

"Gibberish. The boy is unruly, lazy and selfish. If I have to put up with him in my classroom, I want to be able to deal with him in my own way."

"Oh, Merlin! I hope I won't come to regret this."

Severus Snape tilted his chin defiantly and flashed the most sarcastic smile from his repertoire.

In the entire holiday period, the Dark Lord called him only once. The meeting had been attended by the inner circle of the Death Eaters and, as always, hadn't been very pleasant. The primary topic had been: how to release from Azkaban Lucius Malfoy and the other Death Eaters imprisoned at the battle of the Department of Mysteries? The more violent wing of the Death Eaters preached a direct attack. The "political" wing suggested unorthodox methods, like... bribes. The dissent was deep, and the decision had been postponed. Some of the members had been selected to do specific investigations. Due to his seclusion in Hogwarts, no mission had been assigned to Snape regarding that operation. So, despite the threats hovering on the horizon, Snape could rest a little during his holiday season. He had been able to resume some long-stalled research, and to practise Quidditch with Montague, with whom he was already able to have some sensible conversation. Nevertheless, the boy wasn't ready to resume classes and contact with the other students yet.

The first day of term had arrived - too soon, as always, in Snape's not-so-humble opinion. Locked in his dungeons, the Potions master hadn't seen the arrival of the boats, or of the Thestrals pulling the carriages. He had tried to take advantage of his last moments of peace to take some notes regarding one of his researches in progress, which - he hoped - would lead to a potion that, if previously taken, would attenuate certain effects of the Cruciatus. However, the time had come for the beginning of the Sorting Ceremony. Snape put on his robe and opened his doors, plunging into the darkness of the halls.

There weren't any students in the Great Hall when Severus Snape entered. Akhmatov, the mysterious new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor who had been imported from Durmstrang for the year, was seated next to McGonagall's empty chair, at Dumbledore's right. Snape replied coldly to Akhmatov's greeting, only nodding, and took the empty chair at Dumbledore's left.

"Welcome, Severus!"

"Headmaster."

A strong uproar announced the students' arrival. As they entered, all of them, even those from the more advanced years, looked up at the ceiling of the Hall, gaping at the starry sky. Sorted into Houses, they began to sit at their respective tables.

Snape's eyes browsed the Hall and finally rested on the Gryffindor table, finding Harry Potter's. For a long moment, they stared at each other with intent interest and a gleam of challenge.

Then McGonagall entered leading the first-years, and the Sorting Ceremony began.

Elmer Albee, Hufflepuff; Mary Armstrong, Gryffindor; Sidney Austin, Gryffindor; Angela Azpilcueta...

"Slytherin!"

Slytherin students cheered and clapped Angela, who leapt from her stool and approached her House's table. Every Slytherin shook her hand. Axel Lescaux indicated her a seat and pointed to Snape, who greeted her with a nod.

Martha Barnes, Ravenclaw; Paul Caines, Gryffindor; Igor Cesko, Ravenclaw; Kai Clauschee...

"Slytherin!"

And a boy with tanned olive brown skin, and almond shaped slightly slanted eyes, flashed a smile of shiny pearl teeth. A shiver ran down Snape's spine. Kai Clauschee. What a strange name. An American native, perhaps. That was a new one! And the boy's expression! All that joy, all that innocence! Why Slytherin?

Kai Clauschee approached the table and everyone stared at him in utter stupefaction. Axel stepped forward to greet him. Some other Slytherins followed his example; others - including Draco - looked at the professor's table, searching for the approval of the Head of their House. Snape nodded with a certain exasperation, and everybody started to greet the strange boy more cheerfully.

Snape turned to the Headmaster, at his side. Dumbledore gazed at him with his glimmering blue eyes.

"The boy is a Navajo. His parents came to work in the Department of Mysteries. For a secret project, it goes without saying. Nobody knows how long they will have to stay here, and as he has turned 11 in June..."

"A Navajo!"

"Don't worry, Severus. He's a pure-blood. His father is a wizard, and his mother is a witch."

"Ahaha! Pure-blood. A redskin."

Dumbledore looked at him with severity. "Don't call him 'redskin'. They consider this term offensive."

Snape rolled his eyes. "I can be politically correct, if you want. You know very well I am not the problem here. There are others in my House that won't accept him as an equal because of the colour of his skin."

Then Dumbledore rested his hand over Snape's arm on the table, and squeezed it, smiling. "Can you imagine Lucius Malfoy's expression if I told him: 'Malfoy, the boy's a pure-blood'?"

Snape lowered his head and covered it with the other arm. It would be so embarrassing if he was seen cackling at the Sorting Ceremony.

Besides Kai and Angela, the Hat selected seven more students for Slytherin.

Severus Snape entered the Slytherin Common Room, where his nine first years waited for him scattered on coaches and armchairs, creating pandemonium - under Draco's vigilance. How could only nine brats create such turmoil? As they saw Snape entering, however, ten pairs of eyes stared intently at him, and the nine children sat in respectful attitude.

"You may go now, Draco. Thank you. I'm going to change the password while I talk to them, for I don't want any interruptions. It won't take long, though. Fifteen minutes, approximately."

"All right, professor."

While Draco went out, Snape flicked his wand at the door. Then he chose an armchair and sat in front of his students.

"I know that you must be exhausted; you have had a day full of new experiences. I won't make a long speech; after all, I am very tired, myself."

Kai's lips curled in a half-moon smile. One of the corners of Snape's lips curved downwards, in the best imitation of a smile that he could conjure.

"I want to tell you that you should be proud to have been placed in Slytherin. However, many students from other Houses will tell you otherwise. They will tell you that Slytherin is not a good House. Don't pay attention to them. What is really important, for those who belong to Slytherin, is that we keep united, that we defend our House and its members."

"Professor?" said Carla Stark, a blond girl, raising her hand.

"What is it, Miss Stark?"

"Is it true that all the Dark wizards came from Slytherin?"

"No, Miss Stark, it is not true. It's precisely that kind of statement that you should repudiate. Our House's strength depends on our union. If any student from other House assaults you, verbally or physically, and if you aren't strong enough to repel this assault, you should call for a student from a higher year. Have you all understood?"

"Professor, what's repu... repudiate? And repel?" asked Duane Kildare, grandson of a Death Eater killed in the previous war.

Snape sighed. Every year, the first years' vocabulary diminished. He prepared himself to answer the question, but the Navajo boy spoke first:

"What the professor's trying to say is that, if someone says something bad about our House, we have to say that they're wrong. And if we have some problem, or if someone's trying to, let's say, to beat up some Slytherin kid and if we can't make him stop, then we should ask the older students for help."

Snape arched an eyebrow. "Very good, Clauschee. You are a good translator."

The Navajo boy flashed his astonishing smile again. "That's because I've spoken two languages since I was very young, and many times I have to explain things for people that can't speak one of those two languages! And you know, professor, I understand very well what you're saying because we, Diné (or Navajos, as you say), are like that. Among us, there is no 'I'. We only think as 'we'."

"Your people are wise. That's it. The strong point of our House is our union. And that means also that we mustn't create any division between us. If someone is a Slytherin, she or he is one of ours. It doesn't matter if their parents are both pure-bloods, Muggles, or halfbloods. It doesn't matter if the person is white, black, yellow, red or green." The children laughed. "It doesn't matter if they are born in England or in Tasmania. It doesn't matter if they support the Wimbourne Wasps or the Chudley Canons." Some of them exchanged significant looks. "It doesn't matter if they are rich or poor, if they are famous or unknown." It doesn't matter if they are hetero, homo or bisexual, thought Snape, but he didn't say it out loud. They were too young for this kind of discussion and, even if they were seventh years, he wouldn't dare. He wouldn't add another excuse for persecution to the many others that had already been used against him. "I don't care about what you say to the other Houses' students, but within Slytherin I won't tolerate these divisions. I'm not saying that you should treat the other Houses' students as enemies. It's not that. I'm only saying that life inside Hogwarts is not easy for those who belong to Slytherin, and that we need to be united. I hope you all have understood. If you have any problems, go talk to your House's Prefects, or to the Head Boy. If they can't solve your problem, they will direct it to me."

It would be the first Potions class of the sixth year, assembling students from every House. Normally, sixth and seventh year classes weren't as tiresome as those of the first years, because only those selected few who had obtained the high marks required by Snape were allowed to take them. But this year...

Snape arrived some minutes before starting time, and he entered the classroom quietly, almost floating over the floor. He stopped near the entrance. A frightening scene was waiting for him: Draco Malfoy and Goyle - now without Crabbe, who hadn't obtained the minimum marks, even after the lowering caused by the admission of the Golden Boy - heroically fighting Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, in a jinx and insult war.

"How are you going to run to your daddy now?" shouted Potter, ducking to dodge an Impedimenta. "Poor Draco-kins, Daddy can't save his arse now. Daddy's paying for all his haughtiness and is going to rot in Azkaban."

Drawing half a step back and then advancing, Snape made his dramatic entrance into the classroom. The duel scene froze. Gradually, every participant tried to pull himself together and reach the nearest seat.

"Mr Potter, Mr Weasley, what a splendid way to start the term. Detention for both."

Harry Potter's face turned white, and he grasped his desk with clawed hands.

"Why only us, Gryffindors? They started it," he dared to say, gritting his teeth.

"Mr Potter, ten points from Gryffindor. And be silent. One more word and I'll send you to Filch right now. At the end of the class, you, Mr Weasley, Mr Longbottom and Miss Abbott should remain in the classroom."

From his desk, Snape could see Weasley, Granger and Potter whispering. Probably complaining about how unfair the overgrown greasy bat was. Wonderful. What a splendid way to begin a term.

"Today we will study the Aesculapius Potion." Snape flicked his wand to the blackboard. "The ingredients to be used and the preparing method are on the blackboard. You have an hour and a quarter to prepare the potion."

More whisperings from the Gryffindors. Why, oh why, must there be a House like Gryffindor? Snape never had similar problems with Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws.

The class proceeded without major incidents. Probably with Miss Granger's help, Potter and Longbottom had obtained a passable result. And Weasley's potion had turned out astoundingly good. By sheer luck, no doubt.

When the last student - Hannah Abbott - arrived at his desk to give him her potion, Snape put a label on it and got up.

"Very well. Class is finished, you are all dismissed... except for the students I have mentioned previously."

The students left the class in a bustle.

"Mr Potter, you should wait at the back of the classroom. You will be the last one I will talk to. The others may come to my desk."

With an impatient gesture and almost stomping across the floor, Potter retreated to the last row. Hannah Abbott, who was already in the front of the classroom, only waited. Neville approached the desk, trembling. In Ron Weasley's face, an expression of concern and disgust. The three students gathered in front of Snape, who had sat behind his desk.

"As you know very well, you shouldn't have been allowed in this class. You are here due to the intervention of the Head of Gryffindor House. But this doesn't mean that I deem you fit for my class, and that I will let you behave as if you were so. I will demand of you special diligence. If you don't reach the level of competency of the others, you will have to take Remedial Potions. So, it's up to you: devote yourselves to the study of Potions. That's all. Mr Weasley, detention tonight at eight o'clock, in my office."

"Yes, sir," said Longbottom and Abbot. Weasley only scowled.

They went out silently, while Harry Potter approached the desk of his most hated professor.

"Potter, the scene I've witnessed when I entered in my classroom must not be repeated. I've had enough of your arrogance. I will not allow you to treat any of the students of my House, or of any other House, in such a way. You are not special, you are not better than anyone."

"Look here," replied Potter. "Malfoy..."

Snape stood up dramatically.

"Shut up," he said very low, dangerous tone. "You were mocking your colleague's feelings, taking advantage of his suffering and concern for the imprisonment of his father."

"His father is a..."

"I know better than you who his father is! This is not the question. Ten points from Gryffindor. In my class, there is no such thing as a son of this or son of that, are you listening? Draco is a student - much better than you, by the way -, and he has the right to be respected." Snape circled his desk, and approached the student, looming before him. "You should know better. You should respect Draco's situation, being, as you are, the son of a notorious bastard and coward."

Potter's eyes widened and the blood left his face. A tremor of rage passed through him while he glared at Snape. The Potions master glared back at him with a shiver of pleasure. He had the boy under his control. He could provoke any reaction he wanted in Potter. That was quite enjoyable and exciting.

"It's not fair," grumbled Potter between clenched teeth. "You can't talk that way about my..."

"Twenty points from Gryffindor, Mr Potter. Don't forget to call me 'sir' every time you address me. And if you don't stop questioning my decisions, I'm going to put you in detention every single night of the week."

Now Potter's expression revealed all his helpless pain. Oooh. Those rare instants in which he could keep the boy under his absolute control were well worth the nuisance of having to tolerate the boy's presence in his class.

Potter was already leaving, considering himself dismissed, when Snape called him back.

"Potter."

"What is it... sir?"

"Your House's Head allowed me to administer you as many detentions as necessary in order to correct your behaviour. And she will be informed of your deplorable behaviour in my class today."

Potter lowered his head and dragged himself out of the classroom. Snape watched him attentively, and sneered, satisfied at having humiliated the boy once more. However, a strange feeling of emptiness gnawed at his soul.