This is the original. The one that started it all. It was written originally in a role-playing game, and so in some places the structure may seem odd to you, the reader. Sometimes, guide sentences have been added to help you understand, such as "Later that day...", etc. Unless specified otherwise, all chapters were written in more or less equal partnership by Lindsay and Eileen. We truly hope you enjoy this, we put our heart and soul into it. A final warning: DO NOT STEAL! Do not steal our plot or our characters (the originals, that is). It's low, immature, and really just rude. Now, on with the show!
This chapter contains bits written by the superb Oportet Exquisitus players; including the dauntless Theodore Nott and the lovely Miss Palgea Bones.
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Teenaged girls were sometimes difficult to understand; Sabine knew this well. As it was, having spent the better part of the week properly arranging her new apartments at the school, Ms. Trefethen had decided to better know the corridors of Hogwarts- and thus come to find further evidence of said fact.
She was a tall, thin girl of fifteen or sixteen, with a charming brown crop and the cinched waist of a magically reared young woman. There was no blatant disfigurement to leave her appearance wanting, and yet, there she stood before a long, gilded reflective glass, sulking and tugging at her clothing and hair as it coolly pointed out the slightest hint of extra bulge around the hips, the cowlick behind her ear and the blemish just below the cowlick.
Naturally, it was in Sabine's best interest to ensure that those around her were at least not entirely miserable; so, it was her pleasure to hastily shoo the Hufflepuff girl away from the disagreeable device. Nevertheless, once the girl had gone from eyesight, Sabine was obliged to turn to the mirror and run a palm across her cheek.
"You've a wart coming just to the right of your eye, madam."
"You don't want to stand about looking at that thing," Theodore Nott said, coming up behind Trefethen. He hadn't realized who she was from the back of her head, but as he came closer, he realized that she wasn't a student.
"Oh, sorry, Ma'am. You're one of those substitute professors, yes? Anyway, you don't want to spend your time looking at that bloo - that mirror. Drove Tracey Davis to tears the last time she glanced in it, and Tracey isn't exactly hard on the eyes. I don't know why the mirror is still hanging here. Probably Dum - Professor Dumbledore. He has a peculiar sense of humor."
Theodore wasn't quite sure why he was talking so familiarly to the professor, except that she was only a substitute, and she was good looking despite being old enough to be his mother. And she didn't know him well enough to have judged him yet. That would make for a nice change. Undoubtedly, she'd soon learn what an impossible young man he was in the Professors' lounge, but until then... and anyway, Theodore felt no real reason to be particularly respectful. She was only a substitute, and Theodore thought he remembered her being an American too, one of those Colonials.
Ms. Trefethen looked at the mirror thoughtfully, fingernail tracing the supposed wart-to-be. Having decided that she had had enough, the woman turned to regard Theodore.
"Most magical mirrors that I've encountered are remarkably similar in their purposes to this one. I have a personal theory that the spells used to entice it to criticize before the 1940's or so were a touch too strong." This has been a miniature history lesson, courtesy of Sabine Trefethen.
Folding her arms: "I don't suppose a positively charming young man like you could direct me to the History of Magic classroom?"
"Are you teaching History of Magic, then?" Theodore asked. He immediately wished to retract that statement - of course she was. Who else but a History Prof would know (of care) about enchanted mirrors circa 1940?
"It's on the first floor. Head down like you were going to the Great Hall; only take a sharp left next to that portrait of the goblins torturing the monk, and then the next staircase you come across. I can take you, if you want."
He smiled ingratiatingly, a comeback to her rather sarcastic pejorative "charming". Theodore could be charming. If he wanted to be. In fact, Theodore decided, he would be as charming as he possibly could, just to annoy her.
"Please. Allow me to escort you. I have break for the next few minutes, so I'd be more than happy to show you around the school and its grounds."
"I am exploring my new territory," Sabine said coolly, turning in the direction of the Great Hall and examining the way. She had only just been past that very appealing painting a moment ago; it had been next to that tapestry of the woman at a weaving wheel.
"I would thank you for it if you would," she said afterward, turning back to Theodore. He humored her; that was admirable. "Though naturally, I wouldn't think a gentleman to take a lady anywhere without introducing himself first."
With a small bow, hand behind his back, Theodore said, "Theodore Nott, milady. I'm in the sixth year. Might I enquire of your own name?"
Theodore smiled slightly, a glint in his eye. It was a game, to him - he could be charming as long as he wanted to, if he found it amusing. Theodore found this professor amusing, with her frostiness and her Yankee twang. Of course, it wouldn't do to say so; it would spoil the game.
The idea of escorting this ... lady about the castle grounds was hilarious, though. Theodore didn't know much about the proper etiquette in such a situation - his father hadn't been around to do much of that sort of teaching, and his tutors had never given much instruction outside of Latin. All he knew he'd picked up from watching others at social functions, and from listening in the Slytherin common room. That, plus the fact that this ... lady was quite old enough to be his mother, was sure to cause some hilarity.
"I am Sabine Trefethen," she replied with a small nod. "Miss Trefethen to you, I suppose."
In America, in the circles within which Sabine ran, this sort of circumstance was not uncommon- young people were often better informed of their surroundings, and as Theodore was apt to know the halls of Hogwarts better than Sabine, she found it very natural to ask him to tour her.
This, then, was why Sabine was only amused in the sense that Theodore didn't seem to know exactly what he was doing. She recognized that air; too- she had seen it often in her time. "Well then, Mr. Nott- lead the way?" She gestured towards the staircase.
"Of course," Theodore said, and, his tongue firmly planted in his cheek, offered the Professor his arm. Not that he expected her to take it...
Theodore headed down the hallway, watching as a few stragglers ran off to their classes. Theodore did have a break, but that was only because he'd failed his Ancient Runes OWL; most other students were in classes. As he walked, he pointed out various useful landmarks.
"That staircase to your left shifts three times a day, four if it's feeling cranky. It usually leads up to the fifth floor, but if you annoy it - it's a very touchy staircase - it might take you somewhere unexpected, like the dungeons, despite the fact that it usually goes up."
Theodore prattled on for a bit until they came to the staircase leading down to the first floor. "Now, these stairs are usually stable. They've only changed on me once, that I can remember, and that was because the Bloody Baron - have you met him? - was arguing with Peeves, and Peeves was throwing things. I think the poor stairs just wanted to get away from the noise. Anyway, these stairs always lead to the first floor, and they always return to this landing. Got that? Ma'am?"
Theodore smiled, the picture of a charming young student, very proper in his black robes with their shined silver buckles. The picture of a respectful young wizard.
Right.
It was a policy of Sabine's to ignore almost any limb extended to her; actually, more habit. In her previous years she had shaken hands with one too many kids who were a tad prank happy.
"Much like the dumbwaiter at my school," she reminisced in response to Theodore's speculation on the staircase. Of course, put it to a wizard to create a machine large enough for a small human to climb into, and simultaneously make that machine travel to completely arbitrary rooms. "As for the Bloody Baron, I've never had the pleasure. He sounds pleasant."
Miss Trefethen gave Theodore another assured nod, eyes settling on the previously discussed painting. "I believe I do. You're really quite an invaluable young man. I may have to keep you in my employ for similar future instances."
The thought of being at the beck and call of the formidable Miss Trefethen made Theodore feel a bit nervous. One day of showing her around, fine. He most certainly did not want to be tied to her, however, and the thought of ending up as her errand-runner or lapdog made him feel distinctly queasy. Still, he could slide out of that if the time came.
Not sure if he should precede Miss Trefethen down the staircase (was he supposed to do one of those "after you" my lady things, or, as the guide, was he supposed to lead the way?) Theodore settled for just saying, "Well, down we go, then," and heading down the stairs.
"Alright then. Soon as you're on this first floor landing - or anywhere on the first floor, really - you head like you're going to the Great Hall, down this way to the right. It's a fairly quick walk from here, down to that portrait of the Goblin - there it is, see?"
Theodore stopped right in front of the painting, and dispassionately observed that the Goblins seemed to be making some headway -the last time he'd checked, they hadn't gotten the monk quite so stretched out on their rack.
Palgea stared hard at the painting, trying to force her color down for the moment. The humiliation of being caught in front of the mirror stung more than Palgea would have thought. She didn't think of herself as vain and didn't want a teacher thinking she was just another feather brained Hufflepuff fool who carried around industrial quantities of Extraordinary Mary's Hair Tamer in a Bottle lotion. Which she did carry, but still she didn't exactly want a teacher thinking that.
The witch within the frame sulked with her, sighing agitatedly in her bonds. The young man at her feet struggled to get the bonfire going again while the angry crowd of peasants shouted encouragement, advice and quite a few insults. The poor fellow looked nearly in tears. A heresy burning really was no fun if there wasn't any fire.
Waiting to see if the man had any luck, Palgea waited and her mind drifted back to the mirror. It was hideous, perfectly hideous. Her flat stomach had ballooned and her thighs suddenly bulged. When Palgea had tried smoothing over an errant cowlick her hair instead curled out with a vengeance.
She had never intended to find the mirror in the first place. Arithmancy had been cancelled after the substitute teacher lost his papers so the whole afternoon had become pregnant with opportunity. The obedient Hufflepuff had been off to the library when she got off the wrong staircase. She should have known better by now.
Hideous, perfectly hideous it was. The painting suddenly burst into loud jeers as the man sobbed; abruptly killing the few flames that were beginning to emerge from the straw. Palgea backed away, rallying her spirits with the promise of a session of pumpkin juice and the new copy of Enchantment she'd been saving. She turned around and found herself face to face with the same teacher.
Really now, this was just unfair. The same teacher? And a boy her age to top it all off. Again her cheeks reddened while she said "Miss, we meet again"
Severus stood in the doorway of a closet he used to store cauldrons of sizes larger or smaller than standard. It was at a convenient enough location to his dungeons, if the staircase could be persuaded to abstain from changing its course of direction.
Observing the gathering crowd at the bottom of the stairs, he sneered slightly. Students. The vain little Hufflepuff girl... He had confiscated at least four pocket mirrors from her. And Theodore Nott... Difficult to believe the boy was in Severus' own House, insolent little fool... He had heard about the boy's failure in Ancient Runes... Embarrassing, to say the least.
But... Was that a teacher? He concluded that it must be. He had never seen the tall woman before, but he recalled Albus' brief description of her at the last staff meeting, when the Headmaster had informed them of the upcoming arrival. New teachers were needed, since... His left forearm tensed, and he directed his mind to other things.
"Stop dawdling in the halls, Miss Bones." He hissed, staring coldly at the girl. "I'm certain you have somewhere to be. Somewhere else." He finished pointedly.
The Potions Master turned his attention on the youth of his House and his adult companion. "Nott. I see you've made a friend." Severus inclined his head slightly. "Ms. Sabine Trefethen, I presume? I do not believe we have met. Though it is possible," He eyed the boy, smirking, "You know me by reputation." Flourishing a hand in mockery of an elaborate bow, Severus introduced himself. "Severus Snape, Potions Master of this school."
Sabine, being aware of such a particular bit of etiquette, opted to spare the boy's ego and her own already delicate balance of time and duty, and descended alongside of him. Not that anyone could actually tell, but she was, in fact, joking previously- she had little time to be shepherded by students; if she was in need of an escort she would habitually seek out a professor that didn't seem to be easily annoyed.
"Yes," was the abrupt answer to Palgea. Sabine eyed her for only a moment with something like disdainful empathy before turning towards the commanding sound of a man's voice.
He was pure of blood, she guessed immediately. The air and sense of fashion led her to that belief, and yet, there was something in his apparent lack of concern for his appearance and in his apparent intent to leave a less than stellar impression with her that didn't quite fit with her (somewhat romanticized) perception of a British gentleman. It was something new, though.
"You have me at a disadvantage, Mr. Snape. You have heard of me, and I have never heard of you." That was only partially true; she distinctly recalled Abigail Brooke raving about an ugly sort of man by that name appearing in 12 Grimmauld Place previous to the school year. Sabine decided that this person must be one in the same.
"Surprising." Severus replied mildly, looking down his considerable nose at the boy. "The students in Hogwarts have a habit of making their opinions irrevocably clear. Nott, if Professor Trefethen is finished with your admirable scouting skills, I believe you may be on your way. I'm sure such a bright student can find some way to occupy himself." He sneered, then turned once again to the woman. "And of you, madam, I confess I know very little. Perhaps there will be opportunity to rectify this general state of unfamiliarity."
Stop dawdling in the halls, Miss Bones. I'm certain you have somewhere to be. Somewhere else .
Already the article was formulating in her brain: "Snape Strikes Back". Enchantment and even Jinx would take it in a flash. How could they not? Nearly all their Hogwarts readers had met with the infamous Snape one time or another. When she had sent in the story about losing four pocket mirrors in a row the supportive reader response was enormous. She'd even gotten a response from adult women who had Snape when they were at Hogwarts. He had a lot of potential. Maybe she could suggest turning into a series: "Snape Stories" or better yet, "Snape Bite". See, even the title was catchy.
But there were more pressing matters at hand. Namely, not losing any house points. They were already trailing the other houses.
Now that her brain was finally moving in a more focused direction, Palgea realized that the other teacher's presence was actually quite fortunate. Otherwise, Snape might not have been quite so patient. So Palgea gave a hurried nod and tugged on the robes of the Slytherin boy in indication for him to leave too. After all, she was a Hufflepuff. She didn't wish for anyone to get hurt. Furthermore, he'd been in her Ancient Runes class before he got failed in it. He hadn't seemed to be quite the sharpest chap when it came to not offending teachers.
Theodore Nott was furious.
Point-blank furious. First some nosy little Hufflepuff -expletive- wandered in, and then Snape had to show up.
Bloody Snape. Might be head of Slytherin House, but damned if Snape ever showed any of that good ol' Slytherin favoritism to HIM. Oh, Snape might fawn over Malfoy, but Nott - son of a Death Eater too - got the cold shoulder from Snape.
Not that Theodore would want any friendliness or respect from Malfoy's boot-licker.
God damn Snape. God damn Miss Trefethen, God damn Hufflepuff House, and God damn just about everybody right now.
"Get your hands off of me!" Theodore barked to the bloody Hufflepuff. Like the stupid -expletive- had the right to touch him!
Not bothering to make any polite good-byes, Theodore turned on his heel and stalked off, muttering, intentionally audibly, "Slimy bastard."
Who cared if he got a week of detention? Insulting Snape was always enjoyable in a certain, detached way. Like sticking your hand in the fire for longer and longer amounts of time - the risk made it fun, almost enough to compensate for when you got burned.
"Of course we will," Sabine replied, giving Snape a small nod just before Theodore's little outburst. Starting slightly, she watched the boy go from calm to boiling in just a few spilt seconds- and was immediately filled with bemusement and a certain, slight admiration for the hand that had heated the kettle.
As she saw him leave, she made a mental note of the boy- although, if she knew people, this new man seemed the sort to want to punish him later, when he could not be interrupted. Because she was new, Sabine knew better than to interfere. "Spectacular sort of boy. You're very much his favorite, I imagine," she stated grimly, once Theodore and Palgea were gone from earshot.
The hand that had previously been so eager to help, leaped back, as if singed, and withdrew into the safety of a soft pocket.
She than briefly watched the boy stalk off, muttering something or other about Snape.
He had gotten so angry. She was only trying to help the poor boy. Didn't he see that?
No wonder he failed Ancient Runes: the class required a patience that he just didn't seem to have. Frankly, he had looked troubled. Not to be judgmental, but it seemed that Slytherin house attracted more than its fair share of troubled souls. One just needed to look at the headmaster. It was rather sad actually. Maybe he came from one of those Death Eater families that made him do all sorts of terrible things. She'd read about a case just like that the other day. Boy claimed that his father had made him kill a muggle, point blank. It was such a shame.
Not that she was jumping to any conclusions.
She than walked off, her mind full , making quite sure to walk in the opposite direction
Severus' mouth curved in a rare smile. "Yes, the students have a great deal of affection for me, they mention it every time I enter a room." He said wryly, the sardonic nature of his words touched with a genuine, albeit dry humor.
He dropped his voice. "I have heard of you through the Order, and I imagined it could not hurt to acquaint myself with a comrade-in-arms, as it were." This was true in part, but the woman intrigued him. Though she seemed to have more patience with the students than he did, there was an undeniable air of cleverness and intellect about her. "You are American." He raised a brow. It was not a question... the curious twang and lilt of her words, so unlike his own clipped British precision, said it all.
"I agree. I make a point to know my allies, and would have probably had intent to seek you out eventually," she replied with equal caution. Then, raising her voice to normal volume: "New York by way of New Berlin. Perhaps I don't blend in as well I would like," she lamented with a tiny smile of her own.
"Regarding students, it's never been mentioned that an educator must be well-liked. Whether I am myself or not I may never know- relationships with my students seldom exceed the classroom, though I can see how that may change as I spend time at Hogwarts." Again, a cautionary note affected her tone, yet those issues were not the ones about which Ms. Trefethen was most concerned: she did not like to talk as much as she was currently, and yet she felt compelled to give this new man some insight to herself.
Slight hesitation followed, before Sabine opted to steer towards safer ground. "What is your subject?"
Severus raised a brow. "I believe I may have already mentioned it," he smirked, "But I am the Potions Master at this school, and therefore professor to the same subject."
He changed the topic abruptly as his mind touched upon a fact that the woman might enjoy. "I assume you have not yet had opportunity to visit our library?" Her mind seemed to possess an alacrity and agility that would profit from the use of Hogwarts' extensive library.
Good God, her mind was already escaping her. Choosing to remain at least primarily undaunted, Sabine let the brief embarrassment pass with a 'do forgive me' and a moment taken to be grateful that Severus Snape seemed to be a very tactful sort of man.
"I have not." With luck, her words didn't too easily betray her delight at another opportunity to hold intelligent conversation. "Although I may ask you to escort me one evening in the immediate future, presuming that a favor to a lady would not affect your work."
That eyebrow was getting a great deal of exercise, Severus mused, as, seemingly of its own accord, it traveled upward again. It was an expression that had started to come reflexively in a moment of incredulity, suspicion, contempt or mirth.
The mood of the moment, incidentally, was incredulity. "Not at all," he replied, "There are some very old tomes located in the Restricted Section that are fascinating, to say the least."
"Excellent." Sabine had had a Potions teacher once with the very same sort of quirk- Sabine wondered momentarily whether her new acquaintance was simply very amused by her own manner, or whether he simply had an irritated twitch.
"I look forward to it. You may call on me any evening this week that suits you- I have the apartments near the twin bicorn statues in the corridor east of the Great Hall, and the office below." It was less an office than a neatly decorated broom closet, really, but then Sabine didn't expect any visitors that she would need to impress.
Severus nodded, inclining his head in a gesture of assent. "I will do so. At the moment I must go, I have a classroom full of eager-minded third years to educate." He smirked slightly, his sardonic sense of humor once again surfacing to make a brief appearance. "Good afternoon, Ms. Trefethen."
He turned and left, the infamous, sweeping black robes lending him the appearance of a sallow-skinned Muggle priest as long strides carried him down the corridor toward the dungeon staircase.
"Good luck, Mr. Snape," Sabine returned, watching him exit before removing herself to the History of Magic classroom.