For those of you who have not read Macbeth, a plot synopsis is embedded in the latter half of this chapter, so hopefully that will clear up some confusion. However, I still highly recommend reading the play, as I will only be able to include bits and pieces of Shakespeare's beautiful language in the following chapters, and the work as a whole is astonishing.

I own nothing but the general plot of the fic.


2. Synopsis

The Headmaster's Office was silent for a grand total of two seconds before it burst into a flurry of noise.

'Minerva and Severus,' chuckled Filius to Pomona, who was shaking her head in amusement. 'My, my, this is going to be interesting…'

'But it's not fair,' wailed Charity. 'Minerva didn't even want to be in the play, why does she get the biggest role…'

'Why does Septima get five parts?' growled Aurora. 'That doesn't seem at all fair…'

'Why do I have to play all boys?' complained Septima loudly. 'I wanted to be a girl at the very least…'

'Filchy!' cackled Peeves, pounding the disgruntled caretaker on the back. 'Now we'll get to dance and sing on stage together, won't we?' He turned a somersault, peered at Filch through his legs, and blew a loud raspberry, his eyes glittering wickedly.

'I refuse to do this,' grumbled Filch, glaring at the poltergeist. 'I refuse to go on stage with that fiend…'

'It looks like you may have a rebellion on your hands at any minute now, Professor,' said Remus quietly to Albus.

Severus, meanwhile, watched all of the goings-on from his chair, trying to decide how he felt about what had just happened. Yes, it was very annoying that he and Minerva, the most reluctant participants, had somehow ended up with the lead roles… but Severus could not help but feel just a wee bit flattered that, of all the teachers in the school, the Hat had chosen him – him! – to step into the spotlight and play the heroic protagonist… or so he assumed from the title of the play, at least, as he had not had time to ask Irma what the play was about.

'Minerva, do you want to trade parts?' said Rolanda eagerly to her friend. 'I mean, I'm sure you'd be much better at being a Scottish witch than I would…'

'I wonder why that would be?' said Minerva, sarcasm dripping from her voice. 'And feel free to take my part – I have no desire to waste my time memorising poetry.'

Oh no, you don't, thought Severus, narrowing his eyes. If he was going to be forced into playing Macbeth (and he had no doubt that Albus would find some way of keeping everyone in their given roles), he was not going to have anyone but Minerva playing Lady Macbeth. Now that he thought about it, Minerva was the only one of his colleagues he would trust to be intimidating and commanding enough to play Lady Macbeth, since she fit that description readily enough in her every day life. A sideways glance at the Transfiguration professor's fierce expression confirmed this last thought for Severus.

'Now, Minerva,' said Poppy strictly, 'you know that Albus said we aren't supposed to change parts…'

'And what's to stop me, pray tell?' said Minerva menacingly, rising out of her chair to confront Poppy eye-to-eye.

'The requests of all of your colleagues?' supplied Albus, walking up to the two witches with a placid expression on his face. Severus smirked – he knew that Minerva would never say no to Albus if he asked her to keep the part. The old wizard had been Minerva's mentor since she was a student at Hogwarts herself, and over the long years they had known each other, her respect for him had grown until eventually she began to consider him as a sort of father figure.

Obviously Minerva had realised she could not say no to Albus either, for she sat back down angrily and threw her hands into the air in exasperation.

'Fine, then,' she snapped. 'But, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, mark my words – you'll pay for this one day, I'll make sure of that…'

'Excellent!' cried Albus, sounding far too delighted that his Deputy Headmistress was overtly threatening him. 'Now if you can convert your proposed wrath into your onstage desire to murder me, your job will be half done.'

'What?' Severus had joined the conversation, frowning.

'In the play,' explained Albus, 'my character is murdered by your character and Minerva's character so you can become the king and queen of Scotland. And, as Minerva is obviously already harbouring some ill will towards me, I was congratulating her on her speedy ability to get into character.' He winked cheerily at Severus.

Severus shut his eyes in dismay. Damn that Hat. So Macbeth was not the protagonist of the play, he was the antagonist. Severus had been hoping that for once in his miserable and greasy life, he would get the chance to play a role admired and loved by all… but no, of course not. He was stuck, as always, in the role of the despicable, unloved, power-hungry murderer. And what was more, Severus was going to have to murder Dumbledore of all people – Dumbledore, who in real life had given him trust and a second start at life. The very thought of killing him, albeit in a play, made Severus feel sick.

'Well, you will have to congratulate both Minerva and myself for our speedy abilities to get out of character,' said Severus coldly. 'I, too, refuse to take my assigned role, and no amount of pleading and cajoling will allow me to change my mind.'

'You will both take and keep your assigned roles,' said Albus, his demeanour suddenly growing most frightening, 'or I will cancel next year's Quidditch season.'

The threat had its desired effect – both Severus and Minerva blanched and quickly looked down at the ground in resignation. Albus quickly reverted back to his usual cheery self, and winked at Poppy and Remus, who were trying not to laugh.

'I hate it when he does this to us,' muttered Severus.

'I know,' sighed Minerva. 'One of these days, we are really going to have to start acting like mature adults when it comes to Quidditch…'

'Excuse me!' called Albus over the crowd. 'Thank you. Now, as you all have by now realised, the casting decisions are final, so will everyone please pick up a script…' Albus waved his wand and the stool in the centre of the room waddled to stand beside the doorway, a stack of scripts immediately appearing on top of it. 'Rehearsals will begin tomorrow evening at eight o'clock, here in my office; I would like the whole cast to attend the first rehearsal, regardless of whether you are in the opening scenes or not. And now good night to you all.'

The teachers left the Headmaster's office in small groups, flipping through the scripts and muttering over their lines to each other as they went. Albus held the door open for everyone as they left, nodding and smiling at them.

Remus was trying his best not to start laughing. He watched Severus summon a script from across the room, read through a few lines, and then throw himself backwards in his chair with a miserable groan, his script covering his face. Minerva was still seated in her chair, sniffing in fury from time to time, her arms crossed stubbornly over her chest. As Remus walked towards the door, he gave her a reassuring smile before he collected a script for himself and quietly left the office.

Albus bade Remus a good night and Vanished the extra scripts from the top of the stool, closing the door to his office behind him as he did so. He raised his eyebrows at the two teachers still sitting in their chairs.

'Well, are the two of you planning to leave, or shall I offer you both a nightcap?' he asked.

Minerva started slightly, and quickly rose to her feet; Severus followed suite.

'I assume you have a very good reason for making us do all of this, Albus?' said Minerva with a sniff, picking up a script and flipping through it disdainfully.

'Yes, a reasonable explanation would be very much appreciated,' drawled Severus.

Albus winked. 'To get the two of you to stop bickering over Quidditch and start acting like adults around each other,' he said mischievously. 'Now off to bed with both of you!'

Scowling, both teachers filed out the door one after the other. Albus watched them go, still smiling. When the polished wooden door had shut, he sat at his desk in deep contemplation for a few seconds before picking up his own script and idly flipping through it. Then, quite suddenly, he began to chuckle.

'I daresay this will be an interesting experience, won't it?' he said, his twinkling eyes resting on the magnificent scarlet and gold phoenix perched demurely on a stand next to his desk. Fawkes, who had been feigning sleep the entire evening, opened one eye and trilled softly.

'Yes, I thought so, too,' said Albus as he stroked the phoenix fondly on the head, a smile still stretched across his face.


The staff room was filled with discussions of Shakespeare when Minerva entered it the next morning. Charity and Aurora were bombarding Irma with questions over their coffee, and Pomona and Filius were poring over a script together, taking notes in the margins of the pages. In fact, the only person in the room who did not seem to be engaged in some conversation concerning the Bard was Severus.

'You look particularly cheerful this morning,' said Minerva dryly, taking a seat next to the Potions Master.

'Speak for yourself,' grumbled Severus. He waved his hand at the surrounding professors. 'Look at them all… you'd think they'd been told they had just been awarded the Order of Merlin, rather than been forced into an especially nasty form of humiliation. I for one am not at all looking forward to reciting poetry in front of all of my students.'

Minerva sniffed in agreement, very glad that she had at least one ally. 'I'm wondering how they all had time to read their scripts – did none of them have any marking to do?'

'Well, of course not, silly,' snorted Rolanda, sitting down next to Minerva. 'Since when has Quidditch ever required paperwork?'

'And, thankfully, no one is ill or injured at the moment,' added Poppy, taking the chair on the other side of Rolanda. 'Which leaves me plenty of time for reading and such.'

'And I might add that you and Severus are notorious amongst your students for assigning the most papers, so you really shouldn't complain about having to read them all,' said Rolanda with a wicked grin. 'You should hear your Quidditch teams complaining about the workload you give them…'

Severus rolled his eyes, his long hair blocking his face from everyone's view except Minerva. Minerva forced herself not to smile at this reaction, and instead frowned at Rolanda. For some inexplicable reason, she found that she was rather irritated with her friends for having interrupted her conversation with Severus, but she shoved this thought to the back of her mind.

'I'm sorry to say this, Rolanda, but I believe the reason students come to Hogwarts is to further their knowledge of magic, and not to play school sports,' she snapped.

Rolanda snorted. 'This from the woman who refused to look the Head of Slytherin House in the face for an entire three weeks after Slytherin won the last Quidditch Cup. And I remember hearing Albus say that you were quite the Chaser when you were in school… captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, if I remember correctly?'

'Indeed she was,' said Poppy, nodding. 'I remember our whole House hero-worshipped you whenever you played Slytherin, and positively detested you whenever you played Ravenclaw…'

'Thank you, Poppy,' sniffed Minerva.

'But, back to the play,' said Rolanda quickly, earning her another eye-roll from Severus. 'It's rather important that the two of you read your lines before tonight, as you do have the two lead roles.'

'Although, actually, we're the first ones on stage,' Poppy pointed out, 'and if we're going in order of scenes, you two don't need to worry for quite some time…'

'Well, then, Poppy, I don't see why you need to scold us for our negligence right here and now,' hissed Severus suddenly, his voice in the menacing snarl he used to terrify his students. Poppy involuntarily jumped as though she had just been slapped, and mumbled an apology as Rolanda stared in bewilderment at Severus. Still shooting nervous glances at the Potions Master, the two witches quickly left the table in pursuit of coffee mugs.

'Thank you,' sighed Minerva, leaning back in her chair.

Severus raised an eyebrow. 'I thought they were your friends,' he said pointedly.

'Which is exactly why they aren't afraid of me when I try to intimidate them. While you, on the other hand…' Minerva stopped, hoping that Severus realised she was not trying to imply that he had no friends at Hogwarts.

Severus shrugged. 'One of the many benefits of not getting too close to anyone around here,' he said. Then he rose to his feet and swept out of the staff room without another word.


Remus reached Dumbledore's office ten minutes early, and was not at all surprised to see that many of his colleagues had already arrived and were anxiously perusing their scripts, glancing up at the clock on the wall from time to time. Peeves floated by, chewing a wad of gum loudly; he glared at Remus as he floated by, as if daring him to make gum fly up his nose today. Remus shook his head in amusement, and watched a few of the former Headmasters feign sleep within their frames while sneaking occasional peeks at the assembled teachers. He winked at Fortescue, who had just opened one eye and glanced around the room; both of the portrait's eyes popped open in surprise at having been caught, and he quickly shut them and began to snore even louder.

Remus had forgotten how much he missed Hogwarts, with its moving staircases, its enchanted ceilings, and even nuisances like Peeves. It had been so long since he had felt accepted anywhere, and he knew that he would never have been able to express his gratitude to the other teachers for having invited him into their ranks so readily, werewolf or no.

Well, all of the other teachers except Severus. Remus sighed. He was trying to be friendly to Severus, trying to make him realise that the very memory of some of the things James and Sirius had done made Remus feel sick… but the hard-headed Potions Master seemed determined to ignore every attempt at reconciliation that Remus offered him. Remus glanced over to where the disgruntled professor sat, flipping through his script with a frown.

The only person who was not reading a script was Minerva McGonagall; she was instead reading a Transfiguration essay through the frames of her square glasses, a frown very similar to Severus's etched on her face. Professor McGonagall had always been Remus's favourite teacher at Hogwarts; she had done her utmost to ensure he felt welcome when he first arrived at the school, and even all these years later, Remus was still grateful for the few times she had invited him to her office for tea during his first year, simply so she could make sure that he was getting along well enough. Remus watched as his former professor scribbled a mark on the essay she had been reading, set it aside, and reluctantly picked up her script, her frown darkening as she stared at the title page. Smiling slightly, Remus crossed the room and took a seat next to the witch.

'Stop worrying, Professor,' he said gently, 'this won't be as painful as you think, I'm sure.'

'For the last time, Remus, I have not been your professor for over twenty years, and would therefore much prefer if you called me "Minerva" like everyone else does,' Minerva snapped. The look of alarm that appeared on Remus's face quickly made her regret her tone of voice. She sighed. 'I'm sorry that I'm so irritable, Remus. I suppose I'm just nervous – after all, it has been said that you can't teach an old Crup new tricks.'

Remus shrugged. 'Who knows? You might discover some completely unexpected things about yourself over the course of this production. I'm guessing you've never done much acting, no?'

Minerva shook her head.

'Well, then, who's to say you won't be brilliant at it?' The Transfiguration professor had always struck Remus as being the kind of person who could do anything if she set her mind to it. Minerva, however, still did not look convinced.

'So, how are you and Harry getting along?' she asked, tossing the script on top of her stack of essays.

Remus shook his head, smiling. 'He looks just like James,' he muttered. 'I'd heard people say that for years, and it's absolutely true. He reminds me more of Lily, though.'

Minerva nodded. 'He's a good boy, though heaven knows he's had his share of trouble.'

'What, does that mean he finds himself in trouble, or he gets himself in trouble?'

'Both,' sighed Minerva in mild exasperation, smiling slightly. 'Very much like his father in that respect, although he's not as much of a trickster as James and Sirius were…'

She stopped suddenly, an awkwardness hanging in the air at the mention of the escaped convict's name. After a moment, Minerva cleared her throat and went on in a business-like tone:

'Of course, he's found himself in a fair amount of trouble without asking for it… I assume you've heard about the whole matter with the Philosopher's Stone, and then the reopening of the Chamber of Secrets…'

'Naturally,' said Remus, nodding.

'And Sybill isn't helping matters any,' added Minerva scornfully. 'She's been reading Harry's death in her tea leaves and crystal balls every day since his very first Divination lesson.'

'Has she,' said Remus, frowning. 'Should someone tell Dumbledore about it?'

'No,' sniffed Minerva. 'Sybill Trelawney has been predicting the deaths of people around her ever since she was a student herself, and I cannot think of a single instance in which one of her death predictions has come true. I daresay Harry has nothing to worry about.'

'Excuse me!' called the deep voice of Albus Dumbledore above the chattering of his staff. 'If you could all clear the centre of the room, I believe it is time for our rehearsal to begin!'

'I'll talk to you later, Professor… Minerva, rather,' said Remus, correcting himself quickly. He touched Minerva's shoulder reassuringly as he stood; the Transfiguration professor smiled weakly at the werewolf before he made his way back to his seat. As he sat down, Remus happened to look up just in time to see Severus give him a glare that was, if possible, even more nasty than usual. Remus frowned slightly, wondering what he had done to earn a bit of extra loathing from Severus.

'Is everyone here? Excellent!' Albus stood next to his chair so that he could see the faces of everyone in the room. 'Now, before we begin blocking scenes, I'd like to ensure that everyone is familiar with the plot. I assume you all at least skimmed through your scripts last night?'

The teachers murmured a collective yes under their breaths. Minerva glanced sideways at Severus just in time to catch the similar glance he was sending her, and was relieved that at the very least she was not the only person not to have read through her script.

'Well, as a refresher for those of you who did not have time to grasp the plot in its full detail, and for those of you who were too preoccupied with marking to look at your scripts…' His eyes twinkled in Minerva's direction and she scowled, wondering for the umpteenth time how the Headmaster managed to notice everything going on around him. 'I'd like to ask Irma to give us a brief summary of the plot.'

Irma seemed a bit startled at this decision, but stood up and cleared her throat.

'Well, the play begins at the end of a battle,' she began hesitantly. 'The Scots have just defeated the Norwegians, and the victorious generals Macbeth and Banquo – that being Severus and Remus – are crossing a heath alone…'

'Dare I enquire as to what happened to their army?' cut in Severus.

'I don't know,' said Irma, glaring at Severus. 'Perhaps they had already left for home…'

'Without their generals?' smirked Severus, obviously taking great pleasure in aggravating the librarian. 'Dear me, not a very reliable army, are they?'

'It's a plot device, for pity's sake, Severus!' snapped Irma. 'They have to be alone because the next minute, the Weird Sisters appear before them.'

'How horrible,' sneered Severus as Irma swelled with rage at this third interruption. 'I simply can't stand their music.'

Minerva snorted with laughter, remembering an occurrence several years prior in which Severus had given a group of Hufflepuff first years detention for a week for singing the refrain from a particularly dreadful Christmas song by the Weird Sisters too loudly too many times. Poppy was obviously thinking of the same incident, her mouth twitching in amusement as she recalled trying to calm the hysterical first years down after Severus had told them off in his most threatening manner.

'What a pity,' said Albus tranquilly. 'I had rather hoped we could invite them to sing at our Christmas banquet next year, I rather like their new single. But, music aside, I think it would be a good idea if we allowed Irma to continue her plot summary uninterrupted, Severus.'

Severus scowled, but did not retort.

'Thank you, Albus,' said Irma, glowering at Severus. 'As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, three Seers who call themselves the Weird Sisters, and who are played by myself, Rolanda, and Poppy, appear before Macbeth and Banquo.'

'I knew it!' whispered Sybill to no one, her magnified eyes widening. 'I knew that I had been miscast as a drunken porter… The Inner Eye told me I would receive a role that would not reflect my unique abilities, and that I would be forced to watch others make a mockery of the subtle art of Divination…'

'The Weird Sisters address Macbeth as the Thane of Glamis, the Thane of Cawdor, and then the king-to-be of Scotland,' continued Irma loudly, ignoring Sybill's disgruntled whisperings, 'and they tell Banquo that his descendents will be kings of Scotland. But the instant Macbeth starts asking questions, they Apparate away…'

'Stupid question,' announced Rolanda, waving her hand in the air. 'What in the name of Merlin is a thane?'

'The Scottish equivalent of a baron,' replied Irma promptly. 'Now will you please let me get on with the story!' She cleared her throat.

'The only thing is, Macbeth is just the Thane of Glamis, and he does not understand why the Weird Sisters address him as the Thane of Cawdor, since the Thane of Cawdor is alive and had in fact turned traitor and joined the Norwegians in the battle. But the next minute King Duncan – that would be Albus, in real life – arrives and tells Macbeth that the Thane of Cawdor has been captured in battle and is going to be executed for treason, and that to reward Macbeth for his bravery in battle, he is being given control of Cawdor. So now Macbeth is the Thane…'

'So poor Banquo doesn't get anything?' laughed Remus.

'Albus!' shrieked Irma in frustration. 'I regret to say that if you want everyone to understand the plot, you'll just have to give them a synopsis yourself, as they all seem determined to not listen to me…' She sat down stubbornly, sniffing as she glared around at her colleagues.

'Very well,' sighed Albus, looking meaningfully at Remus, who immediately quelled his lip. 'For the sake of brevity, Macbeth's wife, known only as Lady Macbeth in the story, receives news about the Weird Sisters' prophecy, and immediately begins scheming. She convinces Macbeth to murder King Duncan, and they blame the murder on Duncan's guards.'

Severus raised his eyebrows – so Minerva was supposed to be more evil than him in this story? For some odd reason, it was a slightly comforting thought.

'Duncan's sons, Malcolm and Donalbain, flee the country to avoid possible assassination,' continued Albus, 'which seems to confirm that they are responsible for the murder of their father. However, one lord, Macduff, remains suspicious of Macbeth.

'Macbeth then arranges to have Banquo and his son murdered, so that Banquo's descendants will not become the kings of Scotland, like the witches have predicted. Banquo dies, but his son Fleance escapes, and Banquo's ghost then proceeds to haunt Macbeth during a party that Macbeth is hosting. Macbeth is, understandably, quite distressed about this, and decides to pay a visit to the Weird Sisters so he can learn more about what lies in store for him.

'When Macbeth finds the witches, they tell him three things: that he must beware Macduff, that no man born of a woman will be able to kill Macbeth, and that Macbeth will not be overthrown until Birnam Wood comes to Dunsinane Hill, the site of Macbeth's castle.'

'But that's impossible,' interjected Pomona. 'I mean, I suppose you could move a wood with the right spells, if you really needed to, but it's simply not possible to have a man not born from a woman…'

'Unless, of course, you have a woman born from a woman,' pointed out Charity.

'What is this, Tolkien?' grumbled Severus under his breath.

'Patience, Pomona,' cried Albus. 'I assure you, everything will be explained in the end.' He waited for silence to descend once more over the room before going on:

'Macbeth, who now has firm evidence not to trust Macduff, has Macduff's wife and children killed.'

Pomona let out a small sigh at this mention of her role's sad fate; Severus stiffened ever so slightly in his chair. Albus alone of all assembled in the office noticed Minerva give a horrible involuntarily flinch.

'Macduff is, at the time, away in England, convincing the late King Duncan's elder son, Malcolm, to come back to England and retake the throne that is rightfully his. When he hears that his entire family has been killed by Macbeth, Macduff swears vengeance, and he and Malcolm raise an army to challenge Macbeth.

'Meanwhile, back in Scotland, the Macbeths are having some, er, rather large problems. The Scottish lords all hate Macbeth, the land has been under a curse of sorts ever since Macbeth took the crown, and, to top things off, Lady Macbeth has gone insane.'

'Wonderful,' muttered Minerva, casting her eyes towards the ceiling.

'Well, things only get worse when Malcolm's forces arrive,' said Albus cheerfully. 'All of the Scottish lords quickly defect from Macbeth's side, and Malcolm tells every soldier to cut a tree branch from Birnam Wood and march with it, to disguise the size of the English forces.'

'Horribly clever,' squeaked Filius, shaking his head admiringly. 'What we would try to solve with magic, Shakespeare solves with metaphor.'

'So Macbeth is overthrown?' asked Aurora. 'And Malcolm becomes king of Scotland?'

'Well, yes, but with all due credit, Macbeth puts up a good fight before Macduff kills him,' said Albus.

'You still haven't explained how only a man not born of woman can kill Macbeth, Albus,' Pomona reminded him, frowning slightly.

'Ah, yes,' said Albus, smiling and nodding. 'Macbeth apparently did not know that Macduff was born through a Caesarean section.'

There was a pause.

'That doesn't count,' snorted Poppy.

'Well, that's how the play is written,' snapped Irma defensively. 'And it matches up well enough to the witches' prediction…'

'And besides, Poppy, everyone knows that predictions rarely work out the way they are stated, fortune-telling is such a fuzzy area of magic,' said Minerva, her nostrils flaring slightly.

'I beg your pardon,' whispered Sybill. 'Perhaps to those of you who do not have acute clairvoyant powers, the mystical realm of Divination may appear to be fuzzy, but…'

'Yes, yes, we all know,' snapped Minerva, 'the Inner Eye is so strong in some people that you will be able to predict what colour socks Albus will be wearing next Tuesday, is that it?'

'I can tell you that already, Minerva,' said Albus pleasantly. 'As no one has ever taken the time to get me any brightly-coloured socks, I regret to say that I have in my possession only white ones.'

'Irma!' said Septima loudly. 'No one ever said what happened to Lady Macbeth at the end of the play, do we find out?'

'Yes,' said Irma, frowning. 'I believe she kills herself.'

'You could have saved yourself a lot of time with the synopsis, by simply saying, "Everyone dies," you know,' sneered Severus.

'No, no,' said Irma distractedly, waving a hand impatiently in the air, 'that would work as a synopsis for Hamlet or Othello or Julius Caesar as well.'

'Be that as it may, Irma, you might have noticed that between you and the Headmaster, your synopsis has taken up all the time we would otherwise have been rehearsing our lines,' responded Severus silkily.

Remus glanced at the clock on the wall; it was indeed almost nine o'clock.

'Well, best be gettin' back,' grunted Hagrid, who had till that point sat quietly in his chair with a look of concentration on his face as he attempted to keep up with the plot. 'Need to feed Fang an' all…' He rose to his feet and headed for the door; the other teachers glanced at each other and quickly decided to follow suite.

'Wait!' yelped Rolanda. 'We aren't doing any actual rehearsing tonight?'

'I'm afraid we have run out of time, Rolanda,' said Albus kindly, 'but I assure you we will certainly get to read some lines at our next rehearsal.'

'But I practiced!' wailed Rolanda. 'I spent all afternoon practicing, when I could have been doing other things…'

'Ooh, like what?' sniggered Septima.

'Shut up, Septima,' grumbled Rolanda. 'I suppose you'd much prefer to go back to your rooms and mark up a lovely load of Arithmancy papers, rather than stay here and recite Shakespeare…'

'No, I think that's much more of Minerva's idea of a fun evening,' said Septima innocently. 'I rarely ever assign long essays for Arithmancy.'

Minerva glared icily at the younger witch, and picked up her stack of essays.

'Well, at least I make sure that my students are actually learning something in class, Septima,' she snapped before turning and leaving the room huffily.

'Touché,' remarked Aurora to Septima as she passed by.

Severus had had enough of listening to his female colleagues, and swept out the door in a billow of black cape. Although he certainly was not looking forward to a few of his character's traits, he was still feeling oddly relieved that he was not playing THE most evil role in the play. No, that task would be left to saintly Minerva McGonagall, and Severus could not help but smile as he imagined an entire scene of Minerva trying to convince him to murder Dumbledore… perhaps he would have to read the script before the next rehearsal, after all.


Er, yeah, sorry for the Tolkien reference; I realize it's a bit unlikely that Sev would have read any fantasy books growing up, but the Macduff riddle never fails to put me in mind of The Lord of the Rings... so please excuse that.