Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, any of the characters or the locations mentioned.
Yes, I'm back with the fourth instalment of Moanings and I hope you all enjoy this one as much as the previous three.
And can I just say that I'm shocked that Harry Potter is to be an A Level text, it has very little literary merit and J.K. Rowling is a very poor writer. I am so glad that I have completed my A Level English Literature and will never be subjected to studying it. I mean, can you really put it on the same level as Dr Faustus or Rime of the Ancient Mariner? I think not. Anyway…
Chapter One: The Moanings of an Overgrown Dungeon Dweller IV
Words cannot describe…
… how annoyed I am right at this moment. I can't even bring myself to write it down without breaking the pen in anger. I am going to go and have something to drink, then come back and explain.
Nope
Still annoyed, and now also a little bit drunk. Well, after Wolf Boy's very embarrassing departure (very embarrassing for him, exceedingly entertaining for me), Dumbledore advertised for a new DADA teacher and I, of course, put myself forward for it. I can't be worse than the last three teachers. The first was a loon, the second was an idiot and the third was a werewolf. I'll accept that Lockhart could have duped Dumbledore but the other two mistakes are just inexcusable. Quirrel had a pet Iguana for god's sake, nothing screams lunatic more than an unhealthy interest in slow animals.
Anyway, I was given a time to arrive for an interview so I got all prepared to dazzle Dumbledore with my non-lunacy and non-long-fanged-hair-sprouting characteristics and we… prepare yourself… drank tea for two hours. Not one question about DADA passed his lips. We talked about the weather, holidays, other teachers, the Ministry and even the Giant Squid, but bugger all about what I was actually there to talk about! And the most amazing thing is I didn't even realise until I was halfway down the corridor back to the dungeons what had actually happened. Hatred is not a strong enough word to describe my feeling towards that man. I detest every crazy fibre of his being. I especially loathe every fibre of his moral being. I abhor the very ground that he walks on. Which probably begs the questions, why am I still here? Free lodgings, free food and a wage. So there.
Good grief
All the Daily Prophet is talking about is the Quidditch World Cup. I really don't get the point of it all, loads of idiots holding onto flying sticks. There are more important things to waste my time doing than watching that. Ireland vs. Bulgaria, apparently it's promising to be 'the most exciting match since Poland met with Spain in the match of 1853, which lasted four days and three people died during the course of it.' I can think of at least ten things that are more exciting than the Quidditch World Cup, including dying all of my black robes black and cleaning my toenails. I would rather spend an evening with McGonagall than sit in the midst of the unwashed masses, screaming at flying idiots hitting balls at each other.
What a surprise
I asked Dumbledore about the DADA position and he "declined to answer on the grounds of not knowing." Maybe if I develop drug and drink problems he'll give the job to me, or perhaps if I turn into a blood-guzzling vampire. With Dumbledore I don't think the safety of students and fellow teachers comes into consideration, if it'll add a bit of dangerous excitement to the year then it's allowed.
Well, that was disturbing
I was happily stalking my way along the top corridor, and suddenly Trelawney leaps out from behind a suit of armour covered from head to foot in a huge flowing gown and occult symbols, flourishes her finger at me and shouts,
"Bewaaaaaare! Severus Snape, I have foreseen terrible things! Your grisly death!"
My complete lack of reaction put her off a bit and the finger and volume were both lowered, she then obviously decided that her whispery voice would creep me out a lot more than her booming voice.
"I was gazing into my crystal ball and I saw, oh Severus! I cannot repeat what I saw!"
"You were ball gazing?" What can I say; I enjoy being puerile and childish.
"Yes! Crystal ball, I saw- I must go and tell Albus!"
And with that she swept off towards Dumbledore's office to relate my grisly and imminent demise, probably hoping to get a bit more of a reaction from him. I do hope it gets back to McGonagall; she'll be torn between her hatred of me and extreme dislike for Trelawney. Sometimes I do feel slight sympathy for Trelawney, she spends her whole day alone in that smoke filled room gazing into balls and teacups. No wonder she's barking.
On and on and on…
Quidditch World Cup this, Quidditch World Cup that. Nobody cares! Nothing exciting ever happens at these things and three days later no one can remember which teams were playing let alone the final score. 'Victor Krum is the one every fan has got their eyes fixed firmly upon.' Well these 'fans' need to get lives. And girlfriends.
Hmmm
Had a deep and meaningful conversation with Dumbledore concerning Trelawney's mad ravings. We came to the decision that a) Trelawney may finally have tipped herself over the edge, b) my death is very likely and finally c) it's all Dumbledore's fault. Okay, so I added the last one but it's still true. Dumbledore seemed very happy to discuss my death; apparently it's at the hands of those I have betrayed or something similar.
"'A death suitable for a traitor', I think Sybill's EXACT words were. But I wouldn't WORRY Severus, the mind of a psychic is a VERY fragile thing."
Yeh, that and the house elves have reported seeing her burning opium in her rooms.