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Rubeus wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting when Dumbledore gave him the task of reintroducing Harry Potter to the Wizarding world, but it wasn’t this.
The first thing he noticed, after breaking down the door of the tiny cottage on a North Sea island that Lily’s sister’s family had managed to sequester themselves on, was how small Harry was. He was stick thin, reminding Rubeus more of Remus Lupin than James Potter, but that wasn’t the only unexpected difference.
Having known two generations of Potters now, Rubeus thought he knew at least vaguely what Harry would look like, but he couldn’t be more wrong.
No glasses covered Harry’s bright green eyes - almost exactly like his mother's - and his unruly black hair spoke more to curls cut short than the Potters’ infamous untamability. More than that, Harry’s features bore none of the Potter trademarks, though they did seem familiar in a way Rubeus couldn’t quite place.
Of course, if he’d thought about it any longer, Rubeus would have figured out exactly why Harry looked so familiar. But he’d spent the past ten years burying any good memory of Sirius, too afraid of anything that might point to his friend-turned-traitor being innocent and what that would mean for the Potters’ deaths.
Still, Rubeus had been assigned to take Harry Potter to Diagon Alley for his books, and do that he would.
~~~
Draco was bored.
He’d been to Diagon Alley a million times before, and the only reason he was here today - on the busiest day of the year - was the same reason everyone else was. It was Harry Potter’s birthday and, therefore, the most likely day for him to publicly re-enter the wizarding world.
So, Draco had had to fight through the crowds with his mother to get his books along with every other witch and wizard in England, all hoping to glimpse their so-called saviour.
Still, before they’d left, Father had given him a task. If he got the chance, he would befriend Harry Potter and start his introduction to the wizarding world with the right sorts of people, rather than the mudbloods and blood traitors who would surely love to get their hands on him.
Of course, he’d been instructed not to mention his reasoning. It would be counterproductive to tell him he wanted to be friends to stop him from making other friends. He was also not to mention his opinions of mudbloods, blood traitors, or any other group the boy-who-lived may be fond of. Swaying Potter to their side would come later. Now, he just had to make sure Potter would listen to them.
So here he stood in Madam Malkans, getting fitted for his school robe. He was just thinking how much of a shame it was they all had to get their robes at the same place when a boy was ushered onto the stool next to his, tape measures flying around to measure him.
“Hogwarts, too?” Draco asked. It never hurt to be polite, and he didn’t know who he was talking to yet.
“Oh!” The boy looked towards Draco, and the boy had to fight his shock not to fall off his own stool. “Yes.”
It was Harry Potter, but not as Draco had expected him. He had the scar, the dark hair, and his mother’s eyes, as all the media liked to go on about, but if Draco knew anything about pureblood lines, he knew that was not a Potter.
Harry Potter was a Black.
He supposed that Dorea Black had married into the family a couple of generations back, but that meant he was still family. And nothing was more important to Blacks than family.
“I’m Draco.” Better to leave the surnames for now. Who knows what Potter had been told about his family?
“Harry.”
Now, time to test the waters.
“So, what house do you suppose you’ll go into?”
“House?”
Oh dear. His father had thought Potter might only have been taught light propaganda, but it seemed he knew nothing of the wizarding world at all. Well, hopefully it would be easier to shape his opinions then. “Hogwarts house. Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin.”
“I don’t know. Hagrid hasn’t told me much about them yet.”
Oh dear. Hagrid was the one guiding him? McGonagall was the one who usually guided mudbloods, and despite her bias, she was at least a proper witch. Not some expelled half-breed like Hagrid.
“That oaf?” Draco said, unable to help himself, “I’m surprised he isn’t singing Gryffindor’s praises. They call themselves brave, but really, they’re just stupid. I’m going into Slytherin, of course, all my family has. It is the best house, after all. After all, ambition is the most important part of achievement.” That last bit was something Father always said, so it must be true.
Harry just looked confused. Maybe muggles didn’t do houses the same way wizards did.
Draco sighed, “You’re sorted into one of the houses based on the qualities they favour. Gryffindors value bravery and chivalry, Hufflepuff values loyalty and hard work, Ravenclaw values wit and learning, and Slytherin values cunning and ambition.”
“Well, Hagrid said my parents were in Gryffindor, so maybe I’ll go there.”
“Family can be a good indicator. Almost all my family has gone into Slytherin, but apparently, I have a cousin on my mother's side who was in Gryffindor.”
Just then, Madam Malkin came over to tell Draco his fitting was done. Snapped out of their conversation, Harry looked up to see Hagrid at the window with two ice creams, but for some reason, he wasn’t as cheerful as usual.
“Well, I’ll see you at Hogwarts,” Draco said as he hopped down from his stool.
“Goodbye,” Harry replied.
Draco wasn’t stupid enough to think he could convince Harry towards Slytherin in one meeting. Still, hopefully, it would balance out all the Gryffindor propaganda Hagrid was no doubt feeding him. He’d just have to wait until Hogwarts to see where he actually sorted.
~~~
Minerva waited in the Entrance Hall for the first years, just like she always did, but this year was different. Harry Potter was starting at Hogwarts this year, and after nearly ten years away from the wizarding world, too.
She eyed the students as they came in, looking for Harry, but she almost missed him when he trailed beside the youngest Weasley boy. The only reason she recognised him was those bright green eyes, just like Lily’s, and his famous scar; other than that, he looked nothing like she expected.
He had no glasses for one. Maybe some fresh blood had finally shaken the Potter's poor vision, and his hair - though messy - didn’t look quite like the trademark Potter bird's nest. The Black genes from Dorea had also come through particularly strong, so strong that if she hadn’t known better, she would have thought him-
She dismissed the thought. Lily wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t have thought he would either, but she wouldn’t have thought he’d betray his brother in all but name either.
Internal crisis over, she ushered the first years into the Great Hall to be sorted. That, at least, would be simple.
~~~
Severus scowled at the first years as they were led into the hall. Potter’s son (Lily’s son) should be among them, but he didn’t bother looking. Better to save himself the pain for now, especially as he’d have to teach the brat for at least the next five years.
Idly, he wondered where Potter had gone all these years. Probably some old family Albus approved of and paid to keep quiet. He’d be as spoiled as his father then, whether Albus wanted it or not.
His thoughts died down as the sorting started. As always, he kept an eye on the children going into Slytherin, checking for any immediate signs of abuse. They may have the reputation of being all pureblood snobs, but there was a reason people like him had ended up there, and he knew some pureblood families were a bit too fond of the cruciatus as discipline for his liking.
Vincent Crabbe was the first Slytherin and probably just as much of an idiot as his father. Hopefully Draco would stop him from destroying anything in potions.
The rest of the sorting went as expected, with thankfully no muggle-borns in Slytherin this year. They were always the hardest, simply because most of the house had been taught to hate them from birth, not that anyone outside Slytherin knew the divisions. No fighting outside the dorms. It had been the number one rule when he’d been at Hogwarts, and it was the number one rule now.
The Parkinsons’ daughter went into Slytherin as expected, then a pair of twins to Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, and then it was Potter’s turn.
Severus did a double take as the boy walked up to the stool. That was not a Potter. He had known the elder Potter since he was eleven, and Harry looked nothing like him or any other Potters he had known. But there were two people Harry very much did resemble.
The first was Regulus, though Severus dismissed that thought almost immediately. For one, Regulus had been dead for more than a year when Harry was born, and the boy was also very clearly Lily’s - whom Regulus had had little to no contact with.
That left the other option. Potter’s best friend, the man who had almost gotten him bitten by a werewolf, the one who had betrayed the Potters. Sirius Black. And the more he looked, the more he saw.
But that begged the question, how did it happen? Millions of scenarios ran through his head, but only one stuck in his mind. Lily was too strong-willed and powerful to let Sirius force himself on her or lie about it if it had happened, but the other option seemed far worse. That she had let him, even gone to him, then lied about a child ensuing from said affair, then she was not the woman Severus thought she was. Still, nothing else seemed to fit.
Emerging from his thoughts, Severus was surprised to find the boy’s sorting still in progress. He had expected the boy to be an immediate Gryffindor, but he seemed to be nearing a hat stall, though what the other house could be was a mystery. Certainly not Slytherin, that was for sure.
Another minute passed, the whispers increasing by the second before the hat finally had its answer.
“Gryffindor!” it called out, Harry scurrying towards the youngest Weasley. Whatever the other house had been would become obvious with time, as it always did. There was a reason he hadn’t been surprised when Minerva had told him about her own between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw.
Still, it did not change his attitude towards the boy. He was the result of an affair between his former best friend and the man who had nearly killed him, likely raised as a pampered prince by whatever family Albus had picked out. This was not a child Severus would like.
~~~
So, the Potter boy was a Black. This would make things interesting. Still, Voldemort wished the garlic was not necessary for the ruse. The smell was worryingly starting to become less nauseating.