Snape sighed, glancing each way down the table at the Professors. He caught Dumbledore's eye. Neither of them had any definable expression. Then Dumbledore faced front, giving one wave of his hand. The great oak doors creaked open, revealing the students. The seventh years shuffled in first, then the sixth, fifth and fourth, and so on. Until all that was left was the first years. The oak doors closed, and Professor McGonagall left her seat to await the first years.

Severus' eyes scanned the Gryffindor table, but Potter was nowhere to be seen. This did not go unnoticed, but his attention was suddenly back to the doors as they opened. The stool and the hat was placed before them, and the hat did it's usual beginning-of-term monologue. But during this, his eyes were scanning the students. Standing in their black robes, mouths agape, he sneered at the thought of teaching yet another year of imbeciles. Each one looked stupider than the last, but none of them caught his attention.

Then he scolded himself. He didn't even know for sure the circumstances, and yet he was so worked up. Then the hat was quiet, and McGonagall stepped up and unfurled the scroll. As each student was called up, he scrutinized them, his eyes narrowing. Bit by bit, the crowd diminished, and he became more nervous. Then the last student was called up. A Ravenclaw.

He blinked. He blinked twice. Dumbledore stood to give his speech, introducing "Professor" Lockhart, whom Snape had the unplesantness of spending a week in the castle with. He shuddered at the thought of the entire term. But, nevertheless, he gave a sigh of relief, and actually may have smiled slightly--just a little twitch of one. The Professors on either side of him gave incredulous glances, but he paid no attention.

If his brother had, indeed, had a child, they were not here. Of that he was certain.