Alter Egos
The morning of September 1st began with dark, thunderous clouds creeping across the beautiful dawn sky. A great foreboding was in the air, though; a storm was brewing. It was as if nature itself was reminding the excited yet somewhat anxious students of Hogwarts, a school for Witchcraft and Wizardry, that today they would return; for better, or for worse. But perhaps it was not only the students it was warning this time.This particular year would be one of great revelations for the Staff, most importantly, two of them.
When the students had arrived from the carriages, and the first years had been gathered for the Sorting, the school's three most famous pupils, Harry, Hermione and Ron, sat pensively in the middle of the long Gryffindor table. Their summers had all been relatively average; there were no major attacks on Harry's life, not including his Uncle Vernon's 'strangulation-of- Harry' obsession in July.
He had caught him polishing his Firebolt and decided he could take no more of this freakish behavior. Then Harry had retaliated by threatening his Aunt Petunia's most favourite, and valuable, vase. It was a tense moment, as the two stood defiant in the centre of the living room. He knew the punishments he'd be getting the second he let go of the rim of the dangling vase, but his broomstick was his passion, and his only ticket out of there.
Eventually a truce was negotiated, using stern glares and downright lies. Harry somehow made it safely back to the confinement of his bedroom, knowing he wouldn't see food for a few weeks.or at least until Hedwig, his snowy owl, had returned with valuable presents of cake, chocolate and butterbeer from his friends.
Hermione had been studying hard during August, trying to motivate herself for work (which she didn't need to) by pouring over countless Potions books and encrypting more varieties of Runes, which fascinated her. So, naturally, when she was reunited with her friends again, she took the liberty of informing them of the most interesting chunks of knowledge. And, naturally, none of them wanted to hear it; their minds been sapped dry during the summer. But they grinned and bore it. Somehow.
Ron spent much of his time practicing Quidditch with his brothers, Fred and George, but only whenever they could bear to tear themselves away from their room. He had his suspicions about what they were doing in there, ever since he'd got up during the middle of the night to go to the toilet. He noticed a thick pool of porridge-like goo, giving off noxious fumes, oozing from beneath their bedroom door. Enough to arouse anyone's suspicions. But he thought better of it and decided to return to his noisy bedroom.
The next day there was a lot of quiet panic and a pair of grim and sullen looking twins. They were trying repair a large burn hole in the landing floor and waft away a sickly green mist that hung in the air. Ron sniggered at them and decided to avoid the stairs at all costs by flying out of his window to the kitchen below, waiting for the inevitable screams of horror from his mother. To his utter amazement, they never came. Somehow they had managed to fix it. Later they confessed to him that Fred had 'borrowed' a jinxed fan to get rid of the mist, and George had discovered a charm that expanded the wood where the hole had been. The only danger was, it had apparently been expanded a few times before, and now, it was becoming very, very thin.
That afternoon at Hogwarts, however, they were all sitting there at their table in silence. Usually they would've been yapping away to each other about their exploits, especially just after dinner, but Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster, had called for a special silence. He was about to make an important announcement, about to whom the delegation of teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this year would go. Standing at the centre of the long Head Table, gesturing slightly, he had proceeded to say:
".your new teacher for Defense Against the Dark Arts will be-"
Everyone was amazed at how he could hear that small rap on the great, solid entrance doors. Albus gazed down expectantly. Then slowly the large brass handle turned, and a small, pale hand curled around the edge of the door. Then, even more slowly, a head appeared, covered by a dark, drenched cloak.
"Hello.Sorry I'm dreadfully late." A female voice croaked timidly. Sheepishly, she edged herself around the door and shut it. Her face was mainly hidden under the shadow of her hood, but the shaky smile that appeared on it could still be made out.
"Miss Zirconia, your timing is truly impeccable. I couldn't have planned it better myself. We are all delighted to see that you've made it. Now, Delby! " He winked obviously with a strange smile, and then clapped his hands together and a rather clean and presentable-looking house elf appeared at his side. "Take this dear lady's traveling cloak then dry it out and return it to her quarters."
"Certainly, Sir" Then it almost ran towards her, swept off her cloak before she even knew what was happening, and disappeared.
The hall had been quite quiet apart from the outburst of whispers that had occurred when she had arrived, but now, those curious little whispers had turned into fully-fledged murmurs. Well, obviously, Hermione's was the only comment to be heard about the disgrace of the house elf; everyone else was too busy discussing the new teacher. Harry and Ron, like everyone else, were ignoring their friend and gazing intently at the tall, slender but nicely curved, woman in front of them.
She had her very long, wavy, dark red hair twisted round into a loose bun at the top of her head, which was held together by something with sharp spines protruding from it. Her dress, too, Professor McGonagall clearly approved of judging by her thin lipped smile, was corset-like around the bodice, delicately embroidered with swirling shapes then with tight sleeves that ended just above her finger tips with a frilly cuff. The velvety, emerald-green dress skimmed the surface of the cold stone floor as she began to walk more confidently up towards Dumbledore. It was also noticeable that she wore only one piece of jewelry - a long, thin chained necklace that held two stones twisted around each other strangely into one - scarlet and black - that hung firmly above her chest, almost over her heart.
All the teachers beamed at her, as she took a seat between Minerva and Mrs. Sprout. Except, as always, Professor Snape. To those who knew him rather well, it was clear he was trying to decide which expression his face should hold. Should it be 'utter contempt' or 'intrigue' at this new and interesting colleague? Naturally he chose 'utter contempt'.
When he first saw her, he immediately thought - "What complete pansy has Albus got for the job now? God, I give her 2 days" resting his head in his left hand. Then when she was seated and past the vague introductions, and was about to begin the meal that she was late for, she clumsily knocks over the salt shaker. His next exasperated thought was "Maximum."
Sitting three seats away to her left, he stared unblinkingly at her across the table, considering everything he could criticize about her, which happened to be a lot. This 'Miss Zirconia' seems to be quite popular, he noticed. All smiling and happy, with her contagious laughter infecting everyone. Idiots. Someone curse me. Please. I've tried to commit suicide enough times on my own but it just doesn't seem to work. Another God- forsaken woman at this school, that's why it's in the state it is today. And Albus might as well be a woman for his eccentric ness.
He looked down at the Great Hall, still filled with excited little children, chatting until their heads were about to fall off. Oh well, if he couldn't bleed this misery out of him, he'd just have to find something else to take it out on. A nasty sneer crept over his face. 'I suppose I could just bottle it all up tonight and save it for tomorrow morning. I'm sure Potter won't mind being the base of my favourite hobby, as always.' Severus Snape was Harry's 'jovial' Potions Master- (sarcasm). He detested every particle that made up Harry's skinny little body. But the brat seemed too stupidly arrogant these days to react to his professor's cutting remarks, which made him hate the boy even more.
As the evening wore on, Severus was itching to escape to his dungeons. For how much longer would he be forced to keep his butt planted firmly on this seat, while listening to the life story of some random person? It was sheer politeness and manners, basically that kept him there. But not for much longer. Finally Albus dismissed everyone and people began filing out. Snape was first out of his chair, but not quite fast enough to the door.
"Professor! Professor! Wait!" A desperate voice sounded above the rest. What are the chances that that voice is calling me? He wondered. Very likely. Ignoring it completely anyway, he continued to sweep proudly along the corridor until he had no choice but to stop and face the person who was running after him and being thoroughly irritating. Turning his head round very slowly with a scowl etched into his face, he had expected to see a midget-sized first year stalking him, but was rather surprised to see a fully grown woman, namely, the new Defence teacher. Of course his surprise was hidden by a sharp greeting.
"Miss Zirconia, I believe we have already been introduced, and I'm sure you have noticed that I am rather busy at the moment." He said sarcastically, with a stony face, not even looking at her properly.
"I'm very sorry to disturb you, Professor.."she asked politely.
"Snape." He snapped irritably.
The young woman was clearly taken aback. After all she had noticed he barely spoke to her all evening, but continuing to be rude? She had to let this guy know that, although she was new and everything, she was not a pushover because she was nice to people. 'But,' she thought, 'I suppose you get meanies like him in every school. Sexist git, I bet, too'.
"Professor Snape, the Headmaster kindly suggested to me that you would be able to show me to my bed chambers in the Eastern Dungeons." There was definitely more authority and conviction in her voice now, but he still raised an eyebrow.
"Did he now?" he snarled at the stone floor with his back still turned to her. That old codger was starting to tick him off more than usual.
"Very well." He growled, spun around on his heel and strode past her so quickly that he brushed against her shoulder, almost throwing her off balance.
"Such an attitude problem." She murmured, following him at a distance. Thankfully he didn't seem to notice. Finally, after they had descended further into the dark corridors, he stopped abruptly at a large set of wooden doors.
"The password to your bedchamber is currently 'Uraeus'- feel free to change it as you wish, the snake will tell you what to do." He instructed her blandly as his eyes flickered to the emblem of a thin silver cobra coiled around a sword welded into the centre of the doors. It was only in this enchanted candlelight that he decided to actually look at her properly for a moment. This woman, whose first name he had already forgotten, if he even heard it in the first place, was a mere inch or so shorter than him with unnaturally pale blue eyes that almost seemed to draw in all the light around them. There was also something eerie about her resolute stare. She didn't move at all. It was as if she had forgotten to breathe. Unnerved at her challenging poise, perhaps, he shot her a polite death glare and almost hissed into her ear as he walked past, leaving her all alone,
"Good night. Sleep well."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The morning of September 1st began with dark, thunderous clouds creeping across the beautiful dawn sky. A great foreboding was in the air, though; a storm was brewing. It was as if nature itself was reminding the excited yet somewhat anxious students of Hogwarts, a school for Witchcraft and Wizardry, that today they would return; for better, or for worse. But perhaps it was not only the students it was warning this time.This particular year would be one of great revelations for the Staff, most importantly, two of them.
When the students had arrived from the carriages, and the first years had been gathered for the Sorting, the school's three most famous pupils, Harry, Hermione and Ron, sat pensively in the middle of the long Gryffindor table. Their summers had all been relatively average; there were no major attacks on Harry's life, not including his Uncle Vernon's 'strangulation-of- Harry' obsession in July.
He had caught him polishing his Firebolt and decided he could take no more of this freakish behavior. Then Harry had retaliated by threatening his Aunt Petunia's most favourite, and valuable, vase. It was a tense moment, as the two stood defiant in the centre of the living room. He knew the punishments he'd be getting the second he let go of the rim of the dangling vase, but his broomstick was his passion, and his only ticket out of there.
Eventually a truce was negotiated, using stern glares and downright lies. Harry somehow made it safely back to the confinement of his bedroom, knowing he wouldn't see food for a few weeks.or at least until Hedwig, his snowy owl, had returned with valuable presents of cake, chocolate and butterbeer from his friends.
Hermione had been studying hard during August, trying to motivate herself for work (which she didn't need to) by pouring over countless Potions books and encrypting more varieties of Runes, which fascinated her. So, naturally, when she was reunited with her friends again, she took the liberty of informing them of the most interesting chunks of knowledge. And, naturally, none of them wanted to hear it; their minds been sapped dry during the summer. But they grinned and bore it. Somehow.
Ron spent much of his time practicing Quidditch with his brothers, Fred and George, but only whenever they could bear to tear themselves away from their room. He had his suspicions about what they were doing in there, ever since he'd got up during the middle of the night to go to the toilet. He noticed a thick pool of porridge-like goo, giving off noxious fumes, oozing from beneath their bedroom door. Enough to arouse anyone's suspicions. But he thought better of it and decided to return to his noisy bedroom.
The next day there was a lot of quiet panic and a pair of grim and sullen looking twins. They were trying repair a large burn hole in the landing floor and waft away a sickly green mist that hung in the air. Ron sniggered at them and decided to avoid the stairs at all costs by flying out of his window to the kitchen below, waiting for the inevitable screams of horror from his mother. To his utter amazement, they never came. Somehow they had managed to fix it. Later they confessed to him that Fred had 'borrowed' a jinxed fan to get rid of the mist, and George had discovered a charm that expanded the wood where the hole had been. The only danger was, it had apparently been expanded a few times before, and now, it was becoming very, very thin.
That afternoon at Hogwarts, however, they were all sitting there at their table in silence. Usually they would've been yapping away to each other about their exploits, especially just after dinner, but Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster, had called for a special silence. He was about to make an important announcement, about to whom the delegation of teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this year would go. Standing at the centre of the long Head Table, gesturing slightly, he had proceeded to say:
".your new teacher for Defense Against the Dark Arts will be-"
Everyone was amazed at how he could hear that small rap on the great, solid entrance doors. Albus gazed down expectantly. Then slowly the large brass handle turned, and a small, pale hand curled around the edge of the door. Then, even more slowly, a head appeared, covered by a dark, drenched cloak.
"Hello.Sorry I'm dreadfully late." A female voice croaked timidly. Sheepishly, she edged herself around the door and shut it. Her face was mainly hidden under the shadow of her hood, but the shaky smile that appeared on it could still be made out.
"Miss Zirconia, your timing is truly impeccable. I couldn't have planned it better myself. We are all delighted to see that you've made it. Now, Delby! " He winked obviously with a strange smile, and then clapped his hands together and a rather clean and presentable-looking house elf appeared at his side. "Take this dear lady's traveling cloak then dry it out and return it to her quarters."
"Certainly, Sir" Then it almost ran towards her, swept off her cloak before she even knew what was happening, and disappeared.
The hall had been quite quiet apart from the outburst of whispers that had occurred when she had arrived, but now, those curious little whispers had turned into fully-fledged murmurs. Well, obviously, Hermione's was the only comment to be heard about the disgrace of the house elf; everyone else was too busy discussing the new teacher. Harry and Ron, like everyone else, were ignoring their friend and gazing intently at the tall, slender but nicely curved, woman in front of them.
She had her very long, wavy, dark red hair twisted round into a loose bun at the top of her head, which was held together by something with sharp spines protruding from it. Her dress, too, Professor McGonagall clearly approved of judging by her thin lipped smile, was corset-like around the bodice, delicately embroidered with swirling shapes then with tight sleeves that ended just above her finger tips with a frilly cuff. The velvety, emerald-green dress skimmed the surface of the cold stone floor as she began to walk more confidently up towards Dumbledore. It was also noticeable that she wore only one piece of jewelry - a long, thin chained necklace that held two stones twisted around each other strangely into one - scarlet and black - that hung firmly above her chest, almost over her heart.
All the teachers beamed at her, as she took a seat between Minerva and Mrs. Sprout. Except, as always, Professor Snape. To those who knew him rather well, it was clear he was trying to decide which expression his face should hold. Should it be 'utter contempt' or 'intrigue' at this new and interesting colleague? Naturally he chose 'utter contempt'.
When he first saw her, he immediately thought - "What complete pansy has Albus got for the job now? God, I give her 2 days" resting his head in his left hand. Then when she was seated and past the vague introductions, and was about to begin the meal that she was late for, she clumsily knocks over the salt shaker. His next exasperated thought was "Maximum."
Sitting three seats away to her left, he stared unblinkingly at her across the table, considering everything he could criticize about her, which happened to be a lot. This 'Miss Zirconia' seems to be quite popular, he noticed. All smiling and happy, with her contagious laughter infecting everyone. Idiots. Someone curse me. Please. I've tried to commit suicide enough times on my own but it just doesn't seem to work. Another God- forsaken woman at this school, that's why it's in the state it is today. And Albus might as well be a woman for his eccentric ness.
He looked down at the Great Hall, still filled with excited little children, chatting until their heads were about to fall off. Oh well, if he couldn't bleed this misery out of him, he'd just have to find something else to take it out on. A nasty sneer crept over his face. 'I suppose I could just bottle it all up tonight and save it for tomorrow morning. I'm sure Potter won't mind being the base of my favourite hobby, as always.' Severus Snape was Harry's 'jovial' Potions Master- (sarcasm). He detested every particle that made up Harry's skinny little body. But the brat seemed too stupidly arrogant these days to react to his professor's cutting remarks, which made him hate the boy even more.
As the evening wore on, Severus was itching to escape to his dungeons. For how much longer would he be forced to keep his butt planted firmly on this seat, while listening to the life story of some random person? It was sheer politeness and manners, basically that kept him there. But not for much longer. Finally Albus dismissed everyone and people began filing out. Snape was first out of his chair, but not quite fast enough to the door.
"Professor! Professor! Wait!" A desperate voice sounded above the rest. What are the chances that that voice is calling me? He wondered. Very likely. Ignoring it completely anyway, he continued to sweep proudly along the corridor until he had no choice but to stop and face the person who was running after him and being thoroughly irritating. Turning his head round very slowly with a scowl etched into his face, he had expected to see a midget-sized first year stalking him, but was rather surprised to see a fully grown woman, namely, the new Defence teacher. Of course his surprise was hidden by a sharp greeting.
"Miss Zirconia, I believe we have already been introduced, and I'm sure you have noticed that I am rather busy at the moment." He said sarcastically, with a stony face, not even looking at her properly.
"I'm very sorry to disturb you, Professor.."she asked politely.
"Snape." He snapped irritably.
The young woman was clearly taken aback. After all she had noticed he barely spoke to her all evening, but continuing to be rude? She had to let this guy know that, although she was new and everything, she was not a pushover because she was nice to people. 'But,' she thought, 'I suppose you get meanies like him in every school. Sexist git, I bet, too'.
"Professor Snape, the Headmaster kindly suggested to me that you would be able to show me to my bed chambers in the Eastern Dungeons." There was definitely more authority and conviction in her voice now, but he still raised an eyebrow.
"Did he now?" he snarled at the stone floor with his back still turned to her. That old codger was starting to tick him off more than usual.
"Very well." He growled, spun around on his heel and strode past her so quickly that he brushed against her shoulder, almost throwing her off balance.
"Such an attitude problem." She murmured, following him at a distance. Thankfully he didn't seem to notice. Finally, after they had descended further into the dark corridors, he stopped abruptly at a large set of wooden doors.
"The password to your bedchamber is currently 'Uraeus'- feel free to change it as you wish, the snake will tell you what to do." He instructed her blandly as his eyes flickered to the emblem of a thin silver cobra coiled around a sword welded into the centre of the doors. It was only in this enchanted candlelight that he decided to actually look at her properly for a moment. This woman, whose first name he had already forgotten, if he even heard it in the first place, was a mere inch or so shorter than him with unnaturally pale blue eyes that almost seemed to draw in all the light around them. There was also something eerie about her resolute stare. She didn't move at all. It was as if she had forgotten to breathe. Unnerved at her challenging poise, perhaps, he shot her a polite death glare and almost hissed into her ear as he walked past, leaving her all alone,
"Good night. Sleep well."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~