Chapter 2 – Ripples on the Water

Or, the chapter in which I am accused quite unfairly (as usual), and I realise that I have acquired a new assistant

I briefly spoke with Professor Sprout before the start of the Halloween feast and requested an interview later that evening. She agreed, though with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm. (People rarely looked forward to chats with me, I'd found, and doubtless she saw trouble on the horizon). When we met in her office later on, I gave Professor Sprout a concise and entirely truthful description of my talk with Mr. Hutchinson. Her reaction was one of almost complete disbelief. She peppered her responses with such phrases as: "I highly doubt any student of mine would ask you for help!" and "Do you really expect me to believe such nonsense?" She was also clearly offended by the notion that I would counsel a student from her house. That was understandable, but I pointed out that Mr. Hutchinson had come to me rather than the other way around, and that he'd agreed for me to raise the subject with her. These reasonable explanations merely seemed to infuriate her all the more.

"I'm summoning Albus!" she stormed. "I'll be filing a complaint about this, and then maybe you'll finally be dealt with. I'm sure that disciplinary action is more than overdue!"

"Professor, can't we sort this out between us? I have not actually done anything wrong, you know."

"That's what you say!" she retorted. I sighed with frustration. She and I normally worked well together, and it was unusual for her to display this level of anger towards me, or indeed towards anyone. I could only conclude that her surprisingly virulent reaction was caused by a belief that I'd encroached unacceptably onto her territory – either that or some well-loved plant had died and I was merely the target for her redirected grief/anger. (For a surreal moment, I imagined myself back in my office explaining to Mr. Hutchinson what encroached meant).

"The boy asked me for help, and I did my best to provide it. I've not had any requests of that type from a Hufflepuff before, but his personal issues did impact upon his Potions work, which I imagine is why he spoke to me."

"Piffle!" she replied loudly. Well, that certainly put me in my place.

Professor Sprout stormed over to the fire and flung a large amount floo powder in its general direction before leaning into the flames. Shortly thereafter she turned back to me, looking decidedly self-righteous. "Albus says that we should join him in his office. We can use this floo to save time."

"As you wish."

Once we were there, the Headmaster looked back and forth between us; his gaze indicated clearly to me that he would rather be cutting up decaying toad remains than refereeing a dispute between two of his staff. "Well now, what is this about exactly?"

Professor Sprout proceeded to rant about me for several minutes. The crux of the matter, as she saw it, was that I had attacked one of her precious badgers and frightened the poor little boy into fits. I pointed out mildly that she could confirm my version of events by talking to Mr. Hutchinson, to which her response was basically that he'd be too frightened to speak out against me and my wicked ways.

"I want something done about this man, Albus. Suspend him or put him on probation or something! And fine him a term's salary, while you're at it!"

"Now now, Pomona, we don't need to take things that far," Dumbledore said, in an unsuccessful attempt to mollify her. "I think that you should take up Severus's suggestion and find out what Mr. Hutchinson has to say. After all, there is no evidence that anything unacceptable has occurred, and a student is free to bring a problem to any member of staff if they so wish."

"We only have Snape's word for it that the boy did so in the first place!"

"Yes, just my word and that of the entire Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff first year Potions class," I pointed out.

"But they weren't there when you spoke to the lad, were they?"

"No, but that was because he had requested a one to one meeting with me, which is his right."

"Well, I'd like to see this meeting for myself," she insisted. "Albus, you said the other day that you've recently acquired a pensieve. How about we view the memory in that? If Snape's got nothing to hide then I'm sure he won't mind," she added pointedly.

"I don't have anything to hide, but our conversations with students are private. You would surely not wish for that to change?"

Dumbledore stepped in before she could respond. "Perhaps we might do this strictly as a one-off, Severus, if it means so much to Pomona?"

"Very well," I agreed, with a tinge of malice in my voice. If she wanted to make a fool of herself then let her, I thought.

I had never seen a pensieve in operation before and I was interested in how it worked, but chose to I sit in an armchair and wait while the Headmaster and Professor Sprout watched the memory of my discussions with Mr. Hutchinson. After this had finished and they turned back to me, I had to work hard not to let the glee show. Professor Sprout's face was a picture – I'd never seen her so embarrassed, and very satisfying it was to behold. As for the Headmaster, he looked amused but also… yes, he looked proud, and he gave me the warmest smile. I found myself smiling back (just briefly, of course), and I have to admit, it felt good to be subject to his approval for once.

"Thank you for letting us view that memory, Severus," the Headmaster said after he'd returned it to my head. "I found it most informative. What did you think, Pomona – are there adequate grounds for disciplinary action after all?"

She glanced from the Headmaster to myself, red-faced and looking thoroughly mortified. We were both working hard to keep the amusement hidden but I think she sensed it, for the next moment she was laughing heartily, and we soon joined in.

"Merlin, I'm an idiot!" she gasped. "I do apologise, Professor Snape. What a fuss I've made over nothing!"

"Ah well, we all get the wrong impression from time to time," Dumbledore said, smiling widely. "I remember once being invited to a late evening briefing by the Austrian Head of International Magical Liaison, and the type of liaising which she had in mind was certainly not on my meeting agenda… but moving swiftly on, I'm sure that Severus will be willing to let the matter drop?"

"By all means," I readily agreed. I could afford to be magnanimous in victory, and besides I was rather mollified by Professor Sprout's prompt acknowledgement of her own mistake. "We need say no more about it."

"Thanks," she replied, and held out her hand to me. I shook it, somewhat bemusedly.

"Well, I'm glad that's all sorted," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "Shall we call it a night, then?"

Professor Sprout nodded and went back through the floo, while I thoughtfully walked the long way back to my office. I considered stopping off to visit the staff room for an hour on the way, but the prospect of once more becoming a barren and rocky island surrounded by a sea of camaraderie somehow lacked appeal. So instead, I made my way back to my quarters for a glass of wine and a quiet hour or so with a book. Somehow I wasn't surprised though when the Headmaster arrived at my door half an hour later to ask if we could have "a little catch-up".

"Brought the suspension papers with you, I expect?"

"I think we can leave those for now," he smiled. I served him some wine and waited to find out what he wanted to know.

"You gave Mr. Hutchinson some excellent advice, Severus. If I may ask however, why him? Why now?"

"I could have been secretly helping Hufflepuffs for years, for all you know."

He smiled indulgently. "But we both know that you haven't."

I conceded this with a shrug, and since it was Dumbledore – the only person alive whom I completely trusted – I told him about imaginary Lily and how she'd wanted me to assist the boy. He nodded thoughtfully from time to time as he listened.

"Have you been hearing Lily's voice for some time?"

"Ever since I started working at Hogwarts. She tries to tell me what to do. Usually I can turn her off, block her out, but it's been much harder lately. And I do know she's not real, by the way, in case you think I'm deluding myself."

"Of course, I understand that. It's really quite simple; her voice represents your conscience, Severus. You haven't been able to suppress it as much lately because it is becoming more active as time goes on, and as you start to reconsider some of your actions and become more open to changing them."

"In that case, I'd much prefer that I didn't have one!"

"Well, I for one am very thankful that you do. Now, I have a request. Please tell me a story about Lily, one which represents a happy memory for you."

I was taken aback at this, but obligingly I shared with the Headmaster a description of how Lily had baked a cake for me on my tenth birthday and invited me round to her house for a celebration. I'd never had a cake before on my birthday, or a party, but she provided both of those things. It had been a very small-scale event, just the two of us in her living room playing cards and chatting for a couple of hours, but it had meant the world to me.

"Thank you, Severus," he said when I'd finished. "That is a very special memory indeed. You know, I don't think you would have been able to share that story with me a year or two ago, because it would have hurt you too much. That you can tell me about it now rather confirms my theory about today's unusual events."

"Which is?"

"That you are healing, my dear Severus. I have suspected this fact for some time, but now I'm sure of it. You are coming to terms with Lily's death. You will always miss her, and there will always be feelings of guilt and regret, but you are starting to get better. People do, you know, over time."

I thought about this for a few moments. Could it be true? Really? "Even if you're right, it doesn't change things."

"On the contrary, it changes a great deal! In fact, it might change everything. If you can do this for one student then why not others? Or even better, why not start being a tad, well… fairer in your lessons? A little less shouting and a little more supporting, perhaps? I'd receive many fewer letters of complaint from irate parents if you did!" He smiled at me once more, and I wondered when I'd let down my guard and started caring what he thought of me.

"The Slytherins would quickly start to suspect me if such a thing took place, Headmaster."

"Not if you explained to them that I had threatened to dismiss you if you didn't implement some rather long overdue changes in your teaching processes."

"You want me to lie to them?" I said disapprovingly. He knew that I didn't like to do that unless there was absolutely no alternative.

Dumbledore smiled and sipped his wine. "By the way Severus, I forgot to mention – if you don't start acting more fairly towards the students from other houses then I'm going to fire you immediately. No appeal, no argument, you'll be gone in a trice." He winked at me and I rolled my eyes in return. (As previously mentioned, this is a well-honed skill of mine).

"Oh dear, I am in trouble now," I drawled.

"And when the Slytherins hear what I've told you then they'll quite understand why you're making some improvements in how you approach being a Professor," Dumbledore added, giving me a too-cheerful smile. (I really let that man get away with far too much).

"I suppose that might be so."

"Indeed. They'll accept that there is a practical necessity for you to turn over a new leaf."

"Perhaps, but why take the risk?"

"For Harry's sake, Severus – that is why."

"Harry?" I queried, though I knew exactly who he meant. The young wizard whom I am meant to protect, even though I've always thought he'll be just like that arrogant, nasty… I sighed and pulled my mind away from this well-worn mental track. After all, I knew nothing about the boy really.

"Harry Potter, Severus. He will be with us in less than two years now."

"And?"

"Today something remarkable happened, Severus – a student who is not in Slytherin house reached out to you for help, and you responded. I understand your reasons for this now, and I believe I can guess Mr. Hutchinson's, but I don't wish him to be the only one. It occurs to me that if you had a better reputation with the students generally, then by the time that Harry Potter starts here then it would be easier for him to perceive you as trustworthy. If he saw you in that way then he might, just possibly, be willing to ask for your help if he was in trouble. And given his likely role in larger events then I suspect that trouble will come to him, even if he doesn't actively look for it. So you see, if you can help him to trust you then protecting him will be an easier task to accomplish."

I considered this for a minute or two while the Headmaster waited serenely for me to process it all. He was right, of course. Bugger, again.

"What is Potter like?" I asked. "In character, I mean."

"Oh, I'm sure he will turn out to be a very pleasant boy."

This surprised me. "You speak as if you haven't met him yet."

"Yes, I thought it better that he and I not see each other until he arrives here. I have no doubt that he'll make a fine student, Severus."

"Where is he now? I never heard who had adopted him."

"He lives with a well-protected family," Dumbledore replied evasively.

I did not need imaginary Lily's input to tell me what the next question should be. "And… is he happy?"

"Well, I have no personal information on that point but I hope that he is content enough," Dumbledore replied. Only someone who knew this man as well as myself would detect the ever-so-slight touch of unease which appeared in his expression as he replied. Hmm… this would require some thinking about, but later, when I was by myself. I nodded with an apparent loss of interest and changed the subject.

"What did you mean before, when you said that you'd guessed Mr. Hutchinson's motive for speaking to me?"

"Ah, that!" The jovial smile returned. "Well, my theory is that Mr. Hutchinson instinctively realised that you and he share a common situation. After all, both you have been rather rejected and isolated by your peers. He doesn't know that, of course, but somehow I think he had a sense that you would appreciate how he feels."

"Now that, as Professor Sprout would say, is piffle!"

"Is it, Severus?" he replied in amusement.

"Yes, it is! I've dealt with many a student in Mr. Hutchinson's position before – it's a common enough occurrence among Slytherins."

"But before, you didn't want things to change in your own life. Now, I think you may do."

"Even if that's so, some idiotic first year student is hardly going to realise it!"

"Not consciously, but at some level I think he might have detected a connection between you. The boy may have some untapped empathic ability, perhaps. As I said, it's merely a guess."

"One which I intend to completely disregard," I said tartly. "As for our earlier conversation, you will need to give me a little time to think about classroom reforms. That's all you get for now, Headmaster."

"I'll settle for that," he replied cheerily. "Is there any more wine, Severus?"

As I said… he gets away with far too much, indeed.

Over the next few days, I kept an eye on Mr. Hutchinson when I saw him around school. I noticed that initially he was alone when eating meals in the Great Hall (though he seemed fairly sanguine about it), but after that he was often to be seen in the company of other first years. Professor Sprout stopped by my office one afternoon to provide an explanation. She had met with all of the first year Hufflepuff boys and talked the matter through with them. Various juvenile grievances regarding Mr. Hutchinson had been aired – for example, his verbosity and endless ability to share facts about his own life had caused his peers to incorrectly view him as both self-obsessed and arrogant. Professor Sprout helped the first years to talk things through, after which she had firmly imparted some home truths regarding house loyalty, fairness and treating everyone equally. At the end of it, the students concerned had agreed to mend their ways and be civil.

"I can't ask them to be friends with Mr. Hutchinson, they'll need to give that voluntarily, but it might come with time," she said to me. "If they're at least not unpleasant to the lad then it'll be a good start. I've also had the prefects in my office and given them all a bit of a talking to. They should have picked up on this situation long before now!"

I agreed, though I imagined that a talking to from Professor Sprout would be mildness itself compared to the sort which I might give. Still, it was progress. There were no other developments in the next few days, except that Mr. Hutchinson came to find me at the end of afternoon school on Friday while I was carrying out my daily tidying of the Potions classroom, and he handed in the missing essay.

"I thought I'd finish it quickly," he said. "Sorry again that it's late, Professor."

"You're still having a detention on Monday," I told him. He grinned in response.

"I know, but that's okay. What are you doing? Can I help?"

"I spend about thirty minutes at the end of each day putting this classroom into order again after successive groups of dunderheads have struggled through making potions and almost wrecked the place in the process." In fact, this was a task which was not unpleasant to me. It wasn't the end of my day's work, since there would be additional tasks to complete after dinner – usually either essay marking, correspondence, detentions, ingredient inventory or house meetings – but it gave me a quiet half an hour to decompress after the teaching part of the day ended.

"What can I do, then?" he said eagerly.

"You don't have to do anything, Mr. Hutchinson."

"But I want to!" he protested. "Please, Professor…"

I sighed. "If you wish to assist then put away the unused ingredients on that table; they should be returned to the store cupboard."

"Okay!" he exclaimed. I'll get right to it."

He completed the task with relative efficiency, though I might have liked it if he'd been quieter. However the boy had received a letter from home that morning, and he assumed that I would be deeply interested to know that his Uncle Maurice had bought himself a painting by numbers set as a new hobby, while his father had just sold a six-episode mystery serial about a private detective with a shady past to Lancashire Literature magazine.

"Dad says they might want him to do a sequel as well! The detective – he's called Alistair – he has a brother called Rory with a big secret, you see, and there's a neighbour called Leonard who's been secretly meeting up with Imani the missing solicitor. He told Alistair that he's a commercial pilot and he was flying to Dusseldorf that night so he's meant to have an alibi, but Alistair found out that can't be true because the German air traffic controllers were on strike that day, so he must have been doing something bad…"

"Like most of the students in this class," I commented, as I tried to remove a stubborn remnant of yet another failed potion from one of the desks.

"Yeah, but then in part three, Alistair meets a woman called Greta – she's a nurse who's supposed to be helping him to find the stolen jewels, but he's starting to think that she might be in league with the trespassers. But Dad says that the truth about Greta is even more strange than that, and he's working on a big twist for her background story, with lots of stuff about her relationship with Clive the greengrocer and Graeme, who's got his own jukebox. Then in the next part, Rory nearly gets knocked over by Victoria who's the local postwoman with a murky past, but he's saved by Sven who's a qualified diver and makes lots of trips abroad to dodgy places and might be more suspicious than he looks. Isn't Dad clever to think of all that?"

"Well I suppose so, since I certainly haven't worked out who committed the crime," I agreed. "Mind you, that's probably because those explanations of yours are entirely lacking in coherency and completeness. If I was to hazard a guess however then I'd point the finger of guilt at Clive; he was probably storing the jewels inside a hollowed-out watermelon."

The boy giggled inanely at this. "I'll write and ask Dad to tell me who did it when it's finished, and I'll let you know what he says. Can I do anything else for you?"

"There are a range of cleaning spells which need to be applied to each desk, to remove any remaining potions residue. I will demonstrate these to you."

Mr. Hutchinson stayed with me for a while and diligently helped me clean up the room. Unfortunately, he was able to clean and talk at the same time. "Can I help you again tomorrow?" he asked.

"Thank you for the offer, but fortunately I only need to do this on weekdays."

"So I'll come back on Monday, shall I?"

I looked closely at him, trying to discern his motives. His keenness to be in my company voluntarily made me want to mark him up as a potential candidate for the long-term ward at St. Mungo's. "You don't have to help me; I can manage quite well alone, and I have indeed done so for many years."

"But you'd finish more quickly with two of us here," he pointed out, "and I liked helping."

"Very well," I conceded. "You can come and assist me a couple of times a week, only if you want to of course, but no more than that. There won't be time, anyway! I assure you that the amount of schoolwork required from you will only increase as you progress through the school."

"I can manage," he said confidently. "I'll see you on Monday then. Have a good evening, Professor!"

I nodded at him and he rushed off, looking more cheerful. For the life of me I couldn't see why he would choose to come and help me, when he could have been relaxing after school. Perhaps, though, it was a welcome alternative to sitting alone in the Hufflepuff common room. However, I was confident that this would be a short-lived arrangement. After a student's first term, it's assumed that they will have become used to the demands of the school timetable, so each Professor then increases the amount of homework that they set. This fact, combined with the likelihood that the boy would make friends soon and want to spend his free time with them, would mean that he'd almost certainly assist me for a few occasions and then stop, which was probably for the best. Even so, to avoid another unwarranted explosion I made a mental note to explain all of this to Professor Sprout when I next saw her.

Of course, things don't always turn out as you expect. It is nearly two years since that day, and Mr. Hutchinson (now reserve keeper for the Hufflepuff quidditch team, proud mentor of a couple of first years and an established part of a cross-house group of friends) still joins me several times a week to help clean up the Potions classroom. His writing is as atrocious as it always was and he talks as much as ever, but I've become used to it. I think he may have worn me down. I could tell you anything and everything about the Hutchinson family and their friends, plus half the neighbours, as well as Frosty the dog and Bispham and its environs. A Hufflepuff's true loyalty, once won, is won forever. And don't I know it!

Oh, and in case you were wondering, it was Greta and Victoria who stole the jewels. They were professional thieves using false identities, and they tried to sneak their ill-gotten gains out of Britain by planting them in the innocent Graeme's jukebox, which he was shipping abroad because he had a new job as a lifeguard in Hawaii. Alistair the detective (who was a lifelong Elvis Presley fan) found the loot just in time when he tried to play 'Blue Hawaii' on the jukebox while Graeme was out of the room for a minute, but the record smashed in the process, which gave him the vital clue – though if you ask me, I still think Clive had something to do with it.

After extensive deliberations over the next week, I decided that it wouldn't be a terrible imposition to make a few simple changes to my lessons. It pained me to admit it, even to myself, but the Headmaster did have a point. It would be difficult to look after the probably-Gryffindor Harry Potter if I had a bad reputation within the school, and therefore he and all of his little probably-Gryffindor friends hated me. And it then dawned upon me that if I was no longer able to humiliate any non-Slytherin students then it wouldn't really be that bad. I hadn't recognised the fact before, but I was now able to see that I no longer gained the same cruel satisfaction from belittling students as I used to. It had almost become a routine with me – one which was basically an exercise in diminishing returns. As I thought about it, I became convinced that some reforms were more than overdue. Perhaps I had been rather harsh to the non-Slytherin students, I admitted to myself reluctantly. Really, it was no wonder that everyone hated me so much.

Once when I was seven years old, my mother sent me to pick up some shopping in Cokeworth market. This was a task which I did regularly. I made some initial purchases and then reached the greengrocer's stall. I'd been given almost the exact money, but a couple of the prices had gone up since my last visit and I realised that couldn't afford to get everything on the list I'd been given. My mother had been in an unpleasant mood that morning. As I stood in front of the stallholder, I found myself struggling to hold back the tears. I was rather scared to go home and tell her that something couldn't be purchased – I was afraid that she would accuse me of spending part of the money on something else. The man running the stall was not the usual one, who was old and dour and unpleasant; I hated that man, but this was a younger person, perhaps in his early twenties and with a friendly smile. He asked me what was wrong. Even at the age of seven, I was cynical and distrustful of others (especially muggles), but I found myself explaining the problem to him in a wobbly, small child's voice which I despised in myself. I remember how he patted my shoulder reassuringly and said that the problem was easily resolved. "How about you give me a hand to tidy up and get rid of all of these boxes, and in return I'll pay you in fruit and veg?" he said. I remember agreeing eagerly to this, and I worked on these simple tasks for half an hour, during which he chatted to me as if I was an old friend. At the end, the man sent me home with everything I needed, plus several other items which he claimed weren't going to sell anyway because people usually didn't like them. He was nice and he didn't need to be. I remember how happy he made me through that simple act of kindness, and how disappointed I was on my next visit when the old man was back again. I'd forgotten that memory years ago, but it came back to me during this period of introspection and I thought about it many times.

However, any changes which I made would need to be communicated in advance to the Slytherins. I therefore raised the issue with the Slytherin prefects at our normal weekly meeting, explained the situation and asked them to brief the other students on my behalf. I didn't actually say that I'd been (fake) threatened with dismissal, but they understood the implication clearly enough. I was careful with my wording however, since it was important for them not to overreact. The last thing I needed was for students to start writing to their parents and asking them to intervene on my behalf. It was for this reason that I brought the matter up casually at the end of the meeting, under Any Other Business, to make it seem small-scale.

"So as I say, I'll need to adjust my marking strategy somewhat, and so on, but you may be assured that Slytherin will still have the advantage when it comes to my points allocation," I concluded. "I've got that all planned out already." The prefects smiled knowingly. "I would like you to explain all of this to your fellow Slytherins, if you would. Please tell them that if they have any specific concerns then they can bring them to myself as usual. One point also for you to stress – there must be no more attempting to sabotage the Gryffindors' potions in class from now on. It's a safety hazard to us all anyway, and I can't always pretend not to have noticed." They grinned, and agreed to provide a briefing to the other Slytherins later that day. The prefects had taken the news well so I didn't expect there to be any problems with this, and indeed there were none.

And so my new, improved Potions classes commenced in early November; they caused a minor sensation within the school, but only for a week or two. The students soon settled into the new regime, and I got used to being rather less unfair. The only major change which I implemented (other than being more careful when marking essays and ceasing to be verbally unpleasant to students) was that I started to assign pairs for brewing in the younger classes, instead of letting students choose who they worked with. I found that it was quite effective to pair up a competent brewer with a less able one; I placed the better student in charge and told them to supervise the overall brewing process. It was something of a surprise when I realised that lessons were noticeably less difficult for me to administer as a result, and there were considerably fewer ruined potions. Naturally, I was still strict at all times. Potions class isn't a place for gossiping or getting distracted, both of which the typical student will do whenever they can. However, the results of these initial adjustments in class were so positive that I was motivated to look for new ways to improve my teaching style over the following weeks and months.

During this time, I also helped Mr. Hutchinson to start developing friendships with other students. While it was perfectly fine for him to remain as a gabby extrovert, I believed that the key to his success in integrating with his peers was for him to learn how to be a little calmer and more controlled in some situations – for example, in class (especially my class), in study groups and when other students wanted to tell him things. To help with this, I taught him some basic meditation techniques and encouraged them to practise them daily. We talked regularly from then on, and I offered what I believed was good advice to guide him through the often highly problematic process of making friends.

Needless to say, the Headmaster was delighted with these developments. For a meddlesome old man like him, one who always enjoys it when he can spot a chance to intrude in the lives of others, this was an absolute delight. He secretly called a meeting with the other three heads of house – I only found out about this much later on – and gently encouraged them to "give me another chance", as he put it. He also asked them to influence the other Professors to do the same. Professor Sprout agreed immediately, presumably with her pensieve experience in mind, and with reservations the other two followed her lead. I should mention at this point that although I was still persona non grata with my colleagues, they had become used to having me around over the years. They no longer bothered to write petitions to the Board of Governors calling for my dismissal, or to send letters containing thinly veiled attacks on me to the Daily Prophet's correspondence page. Still, I knew how much they disliked me, so it was a considerable shock when the other professors started to behave in a much friendlier manner towards me.

Of course, by not warning me of any of this, the Headmaster was taking a risk that I'd just tell them to sod off. And I did consider it, but as previously mentioned I had realised that I was a touch… disconnected from others. Within a few days, I was being greeted more pleasantly and people were joining me for talks in the staff room – stilted talks at first, but over time we all became more relaxed. Then I started to receive regular invitations to social events. Some of these were interesting, though sadly I also had to deal with the other 97%. Still, I showed up to a reasonable number of informal gatherings and eventually hosted a few of my own. I was, a mere eight years after joining the school's teaching staff, finally 'one of the gang'. (Professor Flitwick was to tell me some time later that everyone felt uncomfortable about treating me as a pariah for so long, but that there was no choice in the matter because every time they tried to reach out with an olive branch then I just knocked it away. I suppose that's true enough, in all honesty). I found very quickly, and to my great surprise, that I was enjoying the social aspects of teaching life very much, now that they were being shared with me. Perhaps the highlight was finally getting my hands on some of those raffle tickets of Professor McGonagall's for the kneazle sanctuary, and even better, not winning any of the dismal prizes.