An Inspector Calls

All characters belong to J. K. Rowling.

Part 4

Being Headmaster can be a surprisingly boring job at times; believe it or not, but it's true. Dumbledore used to keep a range of games in his desk to keep himself occupied throughout the day. Playing against oneself in a round of Gobstones can be pretty sad, I've found, so I leave those pastimes alone. I use my time in other ways.

Tuesday afternoon, for instance, I was having a quiet doze at my desk. It was a pleasant habit I'd developed. The hour between three o'clock and four o'clock was always incredibly tedious if all the tasks I had to do were complete. The re-invigoration brought on by lunch would wear off by then, and so began the slow countdown till four o'clock when I could leave the confines of my office without feeling guilty. With my feet on the desk, fingers laced across my stomach, and a cushion behind my head, it was tranquillity.

But of course, with busybodies roaming about the school, it was no wonder my afternoon siesta was to be short-lived. There came a brisk knock at the door.

'Come in,' I called, removing my feet and depositing the cushion in my bottom desk drawer. I groaned inwardly. 'Hello, Miss Granger. How are you faring this afternoon?'

One may be forgiven for thinking I actually gave a toss.

'Oh,' said she, and at my solicitousness there was a hint of surprise colouring her voice that pleased me. 'Well, Professor, I'm actually quite—'

'Yes, quite, Miss Granger; now, what can I do for you?'

She blinked, and then she scowled—that pleased me, too. 'I'm here to talk finance, Headmaster,' she said tightly. 'I wish to see your annual budget and your accounts, dating back to the last three years.'

Ah, this was the big one for me, then. It was one of my main jobs to keep the books balanced and the school afloat. While I was not hiding some big fraudulent scheme, I expected her to pull me up and start lecturing me on resource management, or saving money, or some such other exercise. Though, when she gained her experience in economics, I didn't know—probably while she was acquiring her teaching experience.

She sat down in front of my desk, while I stood up and approached a filing cabinet. I proceeded to slap three files down loudly in front of her, dust rising up off them in short bursts. 'These are the budget allocations for the last three years.' I threw down another three files. 'This is the income and expenditure for the last three years.' And this was the best bit. I opened a new drawer. 'Here are the books for the last three years for Care of Magical Creatures, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Potions (I made sure not to falter, there—Horace, be damned!) and the library, which all have special provision.'

Granger was looking faintly sick at the sight of so many bursting files filled with parchments and receipts.

'And here are the records of expenses for the rest of the curriculum, which command lesser resource allocation.'

I placed the last files slowly and carefully onto the teetering pile in front of her. It wouldn't have done for them to have collapsed all over her, now, would it?

'Is that all?' she asked hopefully.

'Quite.' I nodded and clapped my hands together briskly. 'Well, Miss Granger, I'm afraid duty calls. I promised I'd look in on choir practice today—it's important to show ones face, is it not? Enjoy your reading.'

She looked momentarily taken aback, but I made sure I was exhibiting such disarming sincerity that she only nodded in agreement. 'Of course; I'm fine here.'

'Excellent.' I swept gratefully towards the door.

Choir practice? As if I had any inclination to listen to a bunch of tone deaf miscreants trying to string together a tune! It was bad enough having to sit through their warbling during the Sorting ceremony! I just didn't want to be there when she started analysing Horace's accounts. I'd tidied them up as best as I could, but I could not remove all the discrepancies.

Besides, choir practice wasn't even scheduled for today. It was a risky game to play—no doubt she'd uncover my duplicity, but, well, I didn't care. It was for her own good. She'd already managed to annoy me to high heaven this morning when she'd grilled me on contracts.

'It's not just about student welfare, you know, it's about staff welfare, too,' she'd said, talking to me like I'd just come out of the womb.

She'd gone on and on and on about working hours and pay conditions that, in the end, I'd simply had to interrupt.

'You want to make sure I don't overwork my teachers and staff? That I don't run them into the ground until they are burnt out?'

'In a manner of speaking...'

No bloody consideration about whether I was being driven into the ground, was there? Who gave a shit if the Headmaster was overworked? No one! I decided I should flake out over the High Table with exhaustion one day – headfirst into my cornflakes – that would teach them!

'Surely, you should be asking them if they feel overworked and so forth. Furthermore, the Ministry is responsible for employment specifications and obligations, not me—take it up with them.'

Thwarted once again, she'd merely ground her teeth together and ignored me for the remainder of the morning. I couldn't help my churlishness. Merlin, it was every time I looked at her that I felt such burning resentment. The sooner the week was over, I considered, the better.

I couldn't hide from her forever, though, and unless I found a legitimate purpose for wandering the castle hallways, I would have to go back to my tower and face the inevitable new barrage of interrogatives. I expected she would say, 'Oh, Professor Snape, why don't you save some money here by buying cheaper parchment?' ad infinitum.

Hogwarts had a healthy enough bank balance and that would be my perpetual refrain when dealing with her such well-informed observations. At that point, I spotted Jones coming towards me down the corridor. His face split into a smile.

'Ah, Professor Snape, I have been looking around the castle this afternoon—seeing all the places where the students spend their free time.'

The Australian twang in his voice only added to his ineffable joviality, and thus he grated upon me even more whenever he spoke. I only nodded in recognition.

'Of course, one cannot deny that the grounds are wonderful—plenty of opportunity for the children, and the gardens are so well-kept!'

'It's very much a division of labour, Mr Jones.' I said, walking with him. 'There are many of us who take responsibility for the gardens, from myself to O.W.L. level Herbology students.'

'I see, I see. The library is excellent, too. There are lots of quiet places for students to study to their hearts content.'

'We are very proud of our library, indeed.'

'And it is used often by students?'

Ah.

'Well, we encourage its use. Homework is often set upon a reading only obtainable from the library, but there are students who are more enthusiastic than others, of course.'

Jones chuckled. 'No doubt about it, Headmaster. Isn't that always so?'

I was blessed, suddenly, with an epiphany. 'Perhaps, Mr Jones, you would like me to show you the common rooms?'

It was definitely a legitimate cause with which to avoid Granger, and we hadn't spent money on new furniture for nothing.

'Certainly, Professor.'

I regretted my offer, however, when, as we made our way to Gryffindor Tower, he turned to me and said: 'Oh, I'm having a bit of a kick-about with the seventh-years before dinner—would you like to join us?'

It was all I could do not to stop in my tracks and simply look at him as if to say: 'Are you quite insane?' For my own part, I was quite sure he was a few sandwiches short of a picnic, but in the end, I merely declined his offer as politely as I could.

'I have an old back injury from playing rugby, you see,' I explained lightly.

He gasped. 'Rugby? But when did you get involved with that? I had no idea!'

I wanted to say that I used to play while in the Death Eaters, but that would be going too far, even for me. It's not that I'm a compulsive liar—I just can't help being rather adept at subtle teasing. I probably shouldn't have teased him so, but it was an interesting diversion, nonetheless.

Granger was only just getting round to examining Horace's accounts by the time I returned to my office. What precipitous timing I had! When I sat back down at my desk, she removed the parchments from within the folder and spread them out before her. I felt so apprehensive that I, rather absurdly, snatched one of the pages.

'I was using that parchment!' she stated in some surprise, pointing at the offending sheet with her ridiculously flamboyant quill.

'Well, I am using it for the moment—I do have work to attend to, you know. You were clearly examining last year's figures, actually, when I commandeered this page.'

'I was using it first!'

Possibly, the amount of utterly boring facts and figures she'd been trawling through all afternoon had made her more antagonistic than usual. It amused me.

'You have not used it for the past five minutes, so now I'm using it.' I think my coolness towards the situation infuriated her.

She pulled the parchment towards her. 'Just do a copying charm if you need it so badly.'

'You do a bloody copying charm!' I snatched the parchment back, purely on the principle of the thing.

'No!' She grasped at the page again, but I held on tightly at just the most inopportune moment.

'Oh well done, Granger—you've bloody ripped it now!'

She huffed and ran her wand along the rip. Then, she purposefully put it out of my reach. I wondered if she would connect my reluctance in handing her the sheet to the fact that it was one of the more dodgier recordings of Horace's profligacy with the Potions budget.

Then I remembered she was Hermione sodding Granger—of course she'd notice.

Meanwhile, she was glaring at me. 'You ripped it—it was hardly my fault, you insufferable man!'

Well, this was an interesting turn of events. Suddenly, I was alert. This was it—she'd actually retaliated. I stared at her and my lip curled. I had to escalate the situation—in doing so, I hoped to lure her into revealing something, and that something would, hopefully, be her true purpose for hounding me thus.

'I'm insufferable?' I drawled. 'This is rich coming from a personage such as yourself, whom I'd venture to allude to as the most insufferably glorified quill-pusher the Ministry has ever produced.'

Merlin, that over-sized topknot on her head quivered indignantly with every movement she made—as she bristled, so did that bloody bun.

'I'll thank you not to refer to me in such a way!' she retorted angrily, full of offence.

Oh, I'd hit a sore spot there.

'Why—will it go down in the report that the "Headmaster called me a glorified quill-pusher"?'

'I'm not a quill-pusher!' she burst out adamantly, sounding faintly like a petulant child. But there was almost a hollow note to her voice that made me wonder if she didn't quite believe her own words. So she did have an element of self-awareness about her, then.

A curious look had taken across her face as she looked at me; it was a mixture of frustration and confusion.

'Why are you so annoyed by me, Professor? You're practically jovial with everyone else!'

I almost blinked. Jovial? When the deuce had I ever been jovial? I leant forward and decided to tell her exactly why she annoyed me.

'I am annoyed by overpaid bureaucrats who do nothing more than fill in forms and tick boxes! Is that why you are here, Granger? Set your sights higher than a desk in the Department for Magical Creatures? I bet you jumped at the chance to take on this lofty position, didn't you? Did you offer to get rid of me for them?'

I hadn't intended to ask her that directly, but there it was. She looked at me in some surprise. I admit, my voice had risen, and I was sure I was staring at her with a countenance of steel.

'You are paranoid,' she said quietly, and a little uncertainly.

I chuckled dryly. 'I am not paranoid.' Unfortunately, I completely disqualified that statement with my next words: 'Did you all decide to make up that guff about parents not wanting to send their children here?'

I cursed myself inwardly, but outwardly remained firm.

She, however, sprang resentfully to her feet. I feared her bun would launch itself from her head; such was the ferocity of her movement.

'How can you think that of me?'

'You're saying this is not a whitewash, then?'

'It's in the Ministry's interests for Hogwarts to appear in the best light possible!'

'Ah! That's as maybe, Miss Granger. I, however, am not in their best interests! Do you think they really wanted me to continue as Head of Hogwarts? They only agreed to it because they felt they owed me.'

'So they've roped me in to facilitate your removal?'

'You tell me. It seems to me a convenient opportunity for them.'

I frowned. She looked visibly upset, and it appeared that I was to be in for it, for her eyes narrowed ominously with impatience.

'I'll tell you the truth of the matter, shall I, Headmaster? Maybe then you will rethink your perspective. I was on secondment at the Department for Education when I heard about the difficulties facing Hogwarts. And I assure you, Professor, there are difficulties.'

Her voice hardened a fraction, as did her expression.

'Picture this for me, if you will. Imagine, you have one child that does not come here for his education, and then the parents of another child, who also have doubts, find out about this and subsequently think, "Oh, maybe I don't have to send my child to Hogwarts, either!" I know, I know—you are thinking, "Not every child can be home-schooled! And who would not want to learn magic?" But what if another magical school were to exist in Britain?'

She paused momentarily. 'You may very well suggest that the magical population is too small to sustain two different schools, and you would be right, to some extent. Still, what if some industrious witch or wizard or Muggle decides to give it a go? Maybe it doesn't have to be a boarding school—a sticking point for many parents. Maybe it can afford to pay better wages for its staff. Maybe it decides to be completely revolutionary and offer a mix of Muggle and Magical education!'

She nodded to her herself. 'And now you're thinking, "What self-respecting witch or wizard would forsake Hogwarts for that?" Well, and this is the most alarming thing, what if this hypothetical school becomes a refuge for Muggle-borns? First generation half-bloods who want to retain a measure of their Muggle heritage? It would be a complete disaster—a thousand steps back!'

I freely admit she rendered me rather speechless (it does happen occasionally). Who knew that Hermione Granger had such an air of Prophet of Doom about her? Was that really what the future held for Hogwarts? It was a worst-case scenario, surely?

She breathed shakily and continued. 'I care about this school as much as you do, sir. Why do you think I am here? This was all my idea in the first place!'

There was undeniable triumph in her voice as she revealed that little snippet.

'Your idea?' I asked, feeling faintly aghast. She had devised the whole thing?

'Yes, mine!' she repeated vehemently. 'That's why they let me be in charge, because I set it all up! It was the only thing I could think of that would appeal to the Ministry, who were becoming restless about the growing situation.'

Well, in hindsight, I should have deduced it: her handiwork was written all over it. But... She was right; I was paranoid, and to a certain extent my judgement of the situation had been clouded.

'I want everyone to see Hogwarts at its best, and I don't want to see anyone lose their jobs! I've not been given any directions to catch you out! Have you considered that the Ministry might have no problem with your leadership?'

I looked away. No, I hadn't.

She was flushed, and she put a hand to head as if embarrassment at her outburst was catching up with her. Then, she was on her feet and stalking across the office, her infernal shoes stamping in noisy anger on the flagstones. I could only sit there, utterly still. They say there is a first for everything, and this was one I could now add to the list—I'd just been comprehensively told by Hermione Granger, the girl who was about to flee from my office in a fit of pique just as students would leave their last lessons of the day. Yes, it was certainly very possible that I'd made a mess of this one.

If there's one thing I really hate (and I hate many things), it's being wrong.

Try as I might, I simply can't abide it.

But there was no time to dwell on my misjudgements, for while she had her hand on the door handle, she hadn't turned it. What had she paused for? She seemed frozen to the spot.

I was a little unsure as to how to proceed. If what Granger had said was the truth, and I was inclined to believe that it was, then things looked rather different. It appeared to me that I should try to talk to her and come to some sort of resolve as to where we both stood on matters. That she held the interests of the school above any personal gain changed things. Still, a part of me continued to wonder whether she held any designs on the school herself, but then, I find distrust comes to me very easily. That is why I was not sure about her assertion that the Ministry had no desire to get rid of me. Perhaps they hoped to use her to that end with her unknowing, and possibly, by antagonising her so I'd started playing into their hands.

Therefore, while I could not fully engage with Miss Granger's purpose, I decided I could, should, give her the benefit of the doubt (for a time).

I started to rouse myself into offering some reparation for my previous behaviour, and I stood up to approach her, entirely unsure of what to say. As I did so, she turned around to face me. She looked deflated and slightly stricken. Had I really upset her that much? It wasn't as if I'd never insulted her before.

'You're right, you know,' she said with quiet defeat, glancing away from me. 'I am a glorified quill-pusher.' She bit her lip and nodded almost to herself. 'I am... I sit at my desk and fill in forms, and tick boxes, and meet targets, and...' - she breathed deeply - 'I hate it.'

She shook her head quickly and gave a short burst of self-deprecating laughter. 'I do—I hate my job!' Her eyes shimmered as she glared at me as if I were responsible for her disaffection.

'I had so many aspirations when I took that position in Ministry. I had ideas; I wanted to make a difference—put my mark on the world! Each time I took a suggestion to my supervisor he would find some excuse for putting off dealing with it. 'Oh, Miss Granger, we have a backlog of paperwork to deal with on that Hinkypunk problem!' or, 'Here's a report for you to write on the gnome infestation in Shropshire!' Why do you think they volunteered my services to cover illness at the Department for Education? They wanted a break from my incessant prodding against the status quo!'

For my own part, I could only stand there and wonder if I were about to witness some sort of breakdown.

Her face twisted. 'Ron would sniff at me and say that I had done more during those last months of the war than most would do in a lifetime, that I should be grateful for a bit of tedium! And this leads us to the best bit—here I am, twenty four years old, and the only notable thing I've achieved is divorce!' She laughed sardonically, and as an aside, added: 'No, I certainly hadn't reckoned on that—I was so stupid.'

I wasn't about to contradict her. Throwing herself into a double-wedding with Potter and Ginevra Weasley was probably the most impulsively idiotic action I'd seen in a very long while. Potter had even had the unmitigated gall to invite me. Naturally, I'd respectfully declined; well, I'd declined, at least.

'You talk about debilitating monotony sir; well, let us say that I've made a special study of it.' She sighed and looked away. 'And I don't know why I'm telling you all this.'

Neither did I, really.

I raised my shoulders slightly in a sign of nonchalance. 'I just have one of those faces, I suppose.'

She stared at me and stilled. Then, she burst out laughing—almost cackled, in fact. Were I of a more sensitive disposition, I might have been offended by the potency of her amusement. When her chuckles had subsided, she sighed again and wiped at her eyes. 'Merlin, I haven't laughed that hard in a while.'

'I'm glad you are able to have such fun at my expense.'

'On the contrary, Professor Snape, I think you'd make a wonderful counsellor.'

It was good to know I had another potential career open to me, just in case things did go tits up here.

'You know, Miss Granger, if your only regrets are those which you have mentioned, I must say that you are extremely lucky.'

Her expression sobered and she lowered her gaze for a moment. 'I know they may seem rather trifling...'

'Not so much that, but I am sure that one day you will overcome them. Are you not already embarking on a potential new career? Will you not make a difference by helping to ensure Hogwarts' longevity?'

She clasped her hands together and took a few steps towards me. 'And will I make a difference, Professor Snape? You baulked at my inexperience, and it's true, I have never stepped into a classroom in any other capacity than a student. What credibility have I? I stupidly came here hoping to mask inexperience through manner and appearance, and it means nothing.'

As she spoke, she put a hand to the back of her head and tugged. It took, in fact, several tugs before her hair was sprung lose from it's preposterous prison to hang voluminously about her shoulders. She looked... Well, it struck me for the first time since I beheld her tramping up the lawns two months ago that she actually looked like Hermione Granger, or the Hermione Granger that I remembered, anyway. She kicked off her shoes and pointed her wand at them. The heels shrunk considerably.

She was rather a short-arse without those absurd shoes of hers. I merely raised an eyebrow at her antics.

'My feet have been killing me in those.'

I said nothing. I was not about commiserate with her over the state of her feet. I suppose it was something to be grateful for, though. She would no longer be strutting about the castle sounding like she'd recently been shod at the nearest blacksmith.

'You talk of credibility, Miss Granger, well, I suggest you find some,' I said flatly. 'I may have found this situation distasteful, but I know that worse awaits if your little experiment fails and the Ministry decides to take matters solely into their hands. Their incompetency knows no bounds, after all.'

I turned on the spot and returned to my desk, sitting back down, while realising, of course, that I'd practically just given my endorsement for what I'd previously deemed a farce or charade. I still rather thought it a farce, but it was a farce I was going to have to partake in with more sincerity.

'You chose to take this task on, and I assure you, Miss Granger, that I will not allow for any failures on your part. Indeed, I cannot allow it.'

It was true. What did it matter what state the school was in if she and her team were not competent enough to assess it adequately?

'I know what I am doing, Professor Snape, even if not everyone believes it of me.'

I considered that she may be a novice, young, and by my own appellation, a glorified Ministry quill-pusher, but there was no supposing that Hermione Granger could not turn her mind to many things. It was possible that she did know what she was doing, and I supposed that regardless of her purpose, or the final outcome, I could not find any reason to doubt her commitment. She had her pride after all. She would not want to be branded a failure, especially since there was scope to suggest that she, in whatever small way, already thought herself such.

'Shall you continue with the accounts, then?' I nodded towards the files splayed across my desk.

She approached her chair, and breathed in softly. 'Yes, of course,' she replied, smiling faintly.

She sat down and I watched her for a few moments. 'I have a last word of advice for you, Miss Granger, should you like to hear it.'

A wary expression stole across her face, but she nodded affirmatively.

'Were I you, I should get down on bended knee each night and give thanks for the fact that I am no longer Mrs Ronald Weasley.'

Her eyes widened a fraction and the corner of her mouth twitched slightly in amusement, but her expression was eminently wistful. I did not know the details of her separation from Weasley, but I felt scornful of the fact that she might be pining for him yet. It was rich of me, I know. After all, what did I not know about such yearnings? And I suppose that is precisely why I scorned it.

But, it was none of my business, and neither did I want it to be. She was here to do a job, and my only concern was that she would do it right. What did it matter to me what awaited her once this inspection was over?

Absolutely nothing at all.

AN: Thanks for reading : )