Chapter 2

Great Little School, If It Wasn't For The Students

-oOo-

Severus was in full sweep down the corridor on the first floor, bearing down on the DADA classroom and his waiting third-years. A chance word made him slow down and then imperceptibly fade into the shadows. The inspector speaking to the group of fourth-years by the stairs didn't noticed him, and neither did the students.

"We don't like Slytherins. Hufflepuffs are OK, I suppose, but not too bright," the spotty nincompoop with the adenoids said. Baxter, was it? Severus had to restrain himself from giving him a well-deserved smack to the back of his head.

"I see. Are there any tensions between the students in different houses?" The inspector jotted something down on his clipboard.

"Like what?" Gods knew how Mr Gormless had ended up in Ravenclaw.

"Teasing, bullying, that sort of thing?" Ofsted must have scraped the bottom of the barrel when hiring, if the quality of the questions was any indication.

"Nah. Someone was sent home last term for starting a fight in the changing room, but otherwise it's just house rivalry, innit? Normal, like?" The student contrived to look even more vacuous than before.

"Sam Robinson got detention for hitting Natasha Dolohov with a Stinging Hex last week," the girl next to him piped up.

"With a what, now?" The inspector scratched his head with his Muggle monstrosity of a pen. Severus infinitely regretted not being able to assign him an essay, five foot long, on how to preserve order in a school where several of the students had relatives who had killed the family members of other students.

That wasn't part of the bloody framework for inspections, was it?

"Very good, Mr Ramsbotton. Ten points for Hufflepuff, and no homework today. Class dismissed!" Filius flicked his wand to tidy up a few rogue shards of china. He'd had his fourth-years practising Banishing Charms, and some of the students had been a little too enthusiastic when dispatching the blue and white porcelain vases he'd conjured for them.

"Now then, inspector, do you have any questions?" He finally acknowledged the woman at the back of the class. When the students had started sending china in all directions across the room she'd started violently, and she hadn't quite been able to hide her wonder at the objects moving against all Muggle laws of nature. She appeared to have recomposed herself, however, and asked several unobjectionable questions about the subject taught today and the students' progress.

So unlike that Umbridge creature, Filius mused, before the inspector proceeded to non-educational matters.

"Have you been provided with appropriate accommodations for your disability, sir?" the inspector asked. The only sign that she wasn't entirely comfortable with the subject was a slight pinkness to her cheeks.

"What disability?" Filius was genuinely perplexed for a second, before he realised what she meant. Apparently the fact that he was considerably shorter than most people was too delicate a matter to mention outright, while labelling it a disability somehow wasn't.

"Em- Your- Sir-" the inspector stuttered, and he took pity on her. He wasn't a cruel man, no matter what Rolanda said about the Quidditch team and their four-week detention.

Filius simply levitated himself upwards until he was eye-level with the by now red-faced inspector and said kindly: "I find that I don't need any special accommodation, as a rule. I am a wizard, you know."

"Professor Snape! Wait!" The breathless words were accompanied by smattering steps on the flagstones.

"We generally discourage the students from running in the corridor," Severus informed the panting inspector. His disapproving glare seemed to bounce right off the younger man.

"Sorry, sir!" the man said in much too cheerful tones. "It's just that I had to catch you while I had the chance, and you weren't walking half quickly down those stairs."

"I'm a busy man, Inspector."

The hint went far above the dunderhead, as expected: "I'm sure you are, Professor."

"Was there a particular reason why you wished to consult me, or did you simply wish to obtain your daily exercise?" Severus tried again.

"Oh, right. I got to the classroom I was assigned, and there's no teacher in there!"

Severus turned around, leaving the inspector bobbing in his stride, almost running to keep up.

Inside the History of Magic classroom, Binns was droning on about witch-burnings in Aquitaine in the Early Middle Ages to the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw third-years. Had Severus been inclined to be reasonable, he may have admitted that the class showed few signs of being engaged by the lecture.

Or, indeed, of listening to it at all.

Brown was doing a roaring trade in Chocolate Frog Cards at the back, a gaggle of Quidditch aficionados were hunched over Which Broomstick, and most of the others appeared to be lost on that serene state between sleeping and waking.

Severus was not willing to concede an inch, however. "The teacher is a ghost, and therefore invisible to Muggles. Like you."

"You're saying you believe there's a ghost in there?" The young man looked like he couldn't decide whether to pity Severus or to start running again, in the other direction this time.

"It's not a matter of belief. To me, and any other magical person, it's simply a matter of observation."

Most of the class had abandoned any pretence of listening to Binns. Some of the Gryffindors didn't even bother to hide their eavesdropping, and Severus was itching to dock them points. He drew the line somewhere, though: it would be a truly momentous blunder that would see him admonish the students in front of the inspector.

"So they can all see him?" The idiot peered around the classroom, as if persistence would supersede the laws of nature.

"Naturally."

Binns hadn't even noticed the debate by the door: it was fortunate there was no way Ofsted could observe him in action. Minerva had been on the verge of retiring him by force several times, but budgetary concerns always won out. Severus suspected she had a soft spot for the old codger. He drew the line at pondering why.

"What'll I do then?" God's gift to inspectordom appeared to be undecided, and Severus hiked his eyebrows a little higher. The blockhead didn't even notice.

"May I kindly request that you conduct this riveting review of your current options away from this classroom? While you may be oblivious to the lesson being conducted inside, I can assure you that's not the case for the students."

By now even the dimmer Gryffindors had caught on, and appeared to be hanging on Binns' every word. Severus contended himself with a quelling look, to make sure they stayed on their best behaviour, as he returned the inspector to the realms of the living.

"This way, Inspector? You may find some teaching even you can observe in this direction, although I won't venture to guarantee it."

Inspector Khan had been rubbing his hands for the last ten minutes, fighting off the inevitable stiff fingertips, but otherwise he seemed to be impervious to the freezing dungeon air.

Draco, fortified with several warming charms and a pair of longjohns knitted by the Malfoy house-elves, was unwillingly impressed.

Khan had lingered in front of the pickled two-headed snake when he'd first entered the room, but as soon as the students had started barging in with their usual lack of coordination – Severus was right, teenagers were extraordinarily clumsy – he'd sat down at the back of the room.

During the class Khan had silently observed the discussion of the limitations of Everlasting Elixirs, and the students' subsequent attempts to juice leeches without spilling most of the extracted liquid. He'd been using one of those Muggle Biro contraptions Hermione insisted on polluting the staffroom with, so Draco hadn't even heard the scratching of his quill.

Despite – or possibly because – his efforts to remain unobtrusive, he'd been a veritable carbuncle on Draco's mind through the whole class.

Normally the Potions classroom was Draco's domain. It was neat, orderly and quiet, once the students had settled down, and that was just the way he liked it. He'd always been partial to this room, ever since he'd first heard Severus' famous speech for the first-years. Being in charge made it even better. He knew what was bubbling in the cauldrons, and whether it was going well or if he should be ready with a Containment Spell. He knew his students; one wispy Malfoy eyebrow usually sufficed to subdue them, or make them tell him what ailed them.

When he'd been taken on as the Potions teacher after the war, the parallels to Severus had been obvious. Most people had been surprised when Draco had turned out to be quite a different sort of teacher.

Then again, as Severus never tired of pointing out, most people were idiots.

Severus was much better at making potions than Draco was, but Draco knew he was a far better teacher. He'd never had the sort of mind that couldn't be satisfied unless it was pushing the boundaries of magic, but he was infinitely better equipped to deal with an eleven-year-old making the same basic mistake the fifth time in a row.

Draco left it to Severus and Granger to debate discoveries over the breakfast table and work on articles in their spare time. He was quite content to ensure that the next generation of wizards could brew potions to the best of their capability and leave the theorising to the experts.

Severus regarded errors in the Potions classroom as a personal affront. Fortunately for the students, he viewed his role as DADA rather differently. As far as Draco could make out, his aim was to ensure the students could defend themselves and others when the next Dark Lord inevitably rose. In the name of effectiveness, he was willing to overlook simple mistakes which would have earned the culprit the sharp end of his tongue when he was teaching Potions.

Draco wasn't convinced Severus finally had realised that you catch more flies with honey than vinegar, but he had certainly curved his tendency to verbally eviscerate the students after the war.

"Attention, Fortescue," Draco said sharply. "It'd be a shame to waste all your hard work." He flicked his wand to whisk the vial out of harm's way, but Fortescue managed to contain her wayward elbows on her own accord.

He eyed the tidy row of vials with unappetising liquid – leech juice was just as vile to look at as it was to drink – and dismissed the class with a short nod. They'd done well, and they knew it. They were still relatively quiet as they filtered out the door, but the smatterings of conversation that surfaced above the rustle of robes and book bags was bright and happy.

Ordinarily, Draco would have relaxed slightly in his chair and enjoyed the buzz of a good lesson, but today there was the slight matter of the Ofsted inspector.

Draco made no effort to move, so it was left to Inspector Khan to make his way through the empty classroom towards his desk.

"Thank you, Mr Malfoy. That was rather interesting."

Draco merely inclined his head; of course magic would be interesting to a Muggle.

"I think all my questions have been covered." Khan leafed through his stack of horrid, flimsy Muggle printouts, until he found the one he was looking for. "Except for one matter. Is it correct that your father is a governor of the school?"

"Yes. There has been a Malfoy on the Board of Governors since 1255." He forbore to mention the recent interval – his father had been reinstated a few years after the war, so it was just a short blip on an otherwise perfect record.

"I see. What measures have you put in place to deal with the potential conflict of interest?"

Draco drew himself up to his full height, dwarfing the inspector even when sitting down: "I can assure you there is no conflict between our interests. They are entirely aligned, as is proper." He let his cold gaze rest on the inspector for an uncomfortably long time, to reinforce the message.

The Malfoys may have had their differences in the past, but they had learnt something from the recent war. Never again would they let causes get in the way of family.

Minerva had shortbread and tea ready in her office for Mr Spencer and their end-of-day appointment. There was no reason to be uncivil.

Spencer barely allowed enough time to pour some milk into his tea before launching into his checklist. A large number of headings dismissed with dizzying speed, before he got down to brass tacks:

"As regards to the safety assessment, I have some questions about the teachers."

Minerva had had enough of questions about the most basic matters to last a lifetime, but she nodded warily. She had a premonition she wouldn't like the direction of Spencer's enquiries.

"If I understand correctly, you have two war criminals on staff?" He pronounced the words 'war criminals' as if he couldn't quite believe the term was sullying his lips, and Minerva had to restrain herself from giving him a piece of her mind. His mealymouthness would benefit from a history lesson and some empathy, but unfortunately she wasn't in a position to deliver either.

"Neither Severus or Draco have been convicted of any crimes whatsoever," she pointed out. "If you're basing your evaluation on hearsay, your assessment criteria are less stringent than I have been led to believe.

To give Spencer some credit, he was at least bright enough to spot a dead end.

"Speaking of Mr Malfoy, and his appointment," he continued instead, "I believe he has no formal qualifications whatsoever. He appears to have commenced his teaching career immediately after concluding his own secondary education, with no further training."

"Mr Malfoy is a valued member of the teaching staff, with an excellent track record," Minerva retorted. "Have you found any reason to question his competence when looking at what actually matters, rather than matters of ancient history at this stage?"

"Well, no, I suppose not." Spencer seemed to find the direct attack disconcerting – perhaps he wasn't used to being challenged – but doggedly pursued his assault. "It does raise questions about your recruitment policies, however." He shuffled his bunch of notes, seemingly unaffected by the affronted stare levelled at him. Member of the Wizengamot had folded for less. "There appears to be no representatives of ethnic minorities among the teaching staff."

"Mr Spencer, one of our teachers is a Centaur. I defy you to find a representative of a smaller minority in any school in Britain." Belatedly, Minerva remembered her tea, and took a long sip to give her strength.

"One of the teachers is a what?"

"Centaur. I'm quite sure it was explained in the inspection documents." All seven hundred pages of them.

Mr Spencer appeared to momentarily have lost the ability to speak. "A Centaur," he said heavily once he had recomposed himself. "I thought that was his surname."

After the extremely wearying encounter with Mr Spencer had drawn to a close, it was time for a very late staff meeting. To give them credit, every single member of staff – except Hagrid, who'd been strictly forbidden from leaving his hut – had turned up. Most of the complaining ceased as Minerva appeared.

She hadn't even had time to confer with Severus, but seeing his familiar black-robed appearance, all buttoned up as usual, in the brown leather armchair in front of the fire was as comforting to her as a warm handshake.

At least she wasn't alone in this.

Hermione was sitting next to him, a warm glow heating her cheeks. She straightened up as she saw Minerva, neatly stacking the journals she'd scattered around her in a little pile by her feet. Severus summoned the last straggler from his side of the fire, and it landed with a little 'flop' just as Minerva cleared her throat.

"Thank you for your efforts today. We have one more day of inspection to go, and I have every confidence we shall emerge successfully at the other side if we can get through tomorrow without any fatalities. Or serious injuries. Mr Spencer was quite concerned with our safety record."

Severus's eyebrows drifted upwards minutely; apparently he didn't believe her cheery summary of events. He'd have to wait until after the meeting – there was no point alarming the rest of the staff until they'd received the inspection results. Sybill, for example, was unlikely to impress the inspectors if she was even more rattled than she already was.

"What are our orders for tomorrow, then?" You could always rely on Filius to nudge a meeting along in the direction Minerva wanted it to go.

"Carry on as usual. Just- Just try not to do anything the inspectors will pick up on. Especially when it comes to the safety of the students." Minerva had finally managed to persuade Spencer that The Giant Squid was unlikely to kill any students if it had been harmless for the last three hundred years, but it had been a trying half-hour.

"What the fuck am I supposed to do about Quidditch practice in the morning, then? Tether the brooms to the ground so no one can fall off?"

"Splendid idea, Rolanda. I knew I could rely on you." Minerva rose to dismiss the meeting. Maybe it would all look better in the morning.

Maybe pigs would be able to fly by then.