Okay,
guys, I realized that the chapters were much too short, and so I have combined
several of them, meaning that we have now lost two chapters—but I'll write
quick, and we'll gain them back in no time. Hope this doesn't disturb y'all
deeply.
Chapter Two
When he arrived for the pre-term staff
meeting, he saw Dumbledore waiting for him with a look of disquiet in his eyes.
Unnerved by this, he walked closer to the headmaster and peered at him curiously.
"Severus,
where have you been?" Dumbledore asked.
"I met a family in the Leaky
Cauldron and showed them around Diagon Alley," Snape said nervously, not wanting to divulge his secret. "The boy will be attending school
here."
"Grayson Oliver?" Dumbledore surmised, and Snape
nodded. Sometimes he found this ability of the headmaster's to be a bit disconcerting. "Tell me, did you also meet his…his sister?"
"Do you mean Sylvia Oliver? Yes I
did. She tells me that she will be here doing an archeological survey?" Snape said, putting more than a
hint of question in his voice. He found this all very baffling.
"Yes," Dumbledore said simply, the
disquiet coming back to his eyes. "Dr. Oliver has her own reasons for coming to Hogwarts, as
well as my reasons. I trust you will help make her stay comfortable."
"Of—of course, Headmaster," Snape said, stammering a bit, for the two had just walked
into the staff room, and Snape was staring at the most beautiful woman he had
yet to see in his thirty years. She was stunning, with auburn hair and bright
green eyes, and she was deep in conversation with tiny Flitwick, who seemed a
bit dazed. Snape sat down, still gaping at her.
"Welcome back, everyone!" Dumbledore said, clapping his
hands together to begin their meeting. "I would like to introduce our new Divination Professor,
Cassandra Vablatsky. She will be filling in this year for Professor Trelawney."
"Yes," Cassandra said, her voice clear
and loud in the room, "Sibyll
read the signs well and realized that this year had the potential to wreak
havoc in her life. She decided it would be best to take the year off, and asked
me to step in. I was glad to do so." Several of the teachers were glaring at Cassandra,
McGonagall in particular. They didn't put much stock in divination, and never had.
"Miss Vablatsky," Snape interjected, giving her a
smile, "didn't you write our textbook for the
course, Unfogging the Future? You seem very young to have accomplished
so much."
"Yes, the Sight came to me very
early in life and I have been able to use it well," she answered.
"And we are all glad to have you
with us,"
Dumbledore said, bringing the meeting back to order, and continuing with his
business.
He
caught up with Cassandra as she left the staff-room.
"It really is so good to have you
here," he said, in what he hoped was a
charming voice. "I am a
bit rusty on Divination; perhaps you could give me a few pointers."
"Oh, I would love to," she said a bit distractedly. "And you are the Potions Master,
aren't you? There's actually a bewitching potion
that I was trying to remember the ingredients to yesterday and I was totally
lost." She smiled, and he suddenly
felt weak. "Could
you help me?"
"Yes—yes of course," he answered, realizing that
this year at Hogwarts would be far from boring.
***
"Sevy! Hey, is that you? How are
you?"
This
was the odious sound to which Snape was forced to respond on September 1, the
day on which the students were on their way to Hogwarts via the train. He
turned slowly in the direction of the voice, hoping against hope it wasn't who he thought it was. But to
whom else would an American accent belong? There was Dr. Sylvia Oliver, dressed
in pale lavender robes and smiling almost sickeningly at him.
"My name," he said between clenched teeth,
"is Severus Snape, master of this
school. I would prefer it if you called me Professor Snape. Even Severus would
be better than that—that—that misnomer that you just
used."
"Sevy," she said, laughing, "I didn't ask for your permission! I'm going to use it anyway."
"Don't expect me to respond," he snapped, turning on his heel
and heading for the dungeons.
"I don't!" she called after him. "See you at the feast!"
As
the teachers sat waiting for the feast to commence that night, he sat
alternately openly admiring Cassandra Vablatsky, and receiving disgusted looks
from the rest of the faculty. Sylvia Oliver, deep in a quiet conversation with
Dumbledore, would look over at him occasionally, and Snape had the distinct
feeling that they were discussing him. Eventually, the first years came in for
the sorting, Grayson Oliver was placed in Ravenclaw, and three students who
screamed "headache", Fred and George Weasley, and
Lee Jordan, were sorted into Gryffindor.
"Welcome all," Dumbledore said. "Before we begin, I want to
introduce you to our new Divination teacher, Cassandra Vablatsky." Here most of the older boys
began to cheer, as she smiled and raised her hand in greeting. "We also have with us Dr. Sylvia
Oliver, who will be conducting an archeological survey of the grounds with her
assistants. She would love for you to watch them dig, but asks that you not
contaminate the sites. With that said, eat! Drink! And be merry!"
"For tomorrow we die," murmured Sylvia, giving Snape a
meaningful look.
"What's that?" he asked, a bit unnerved at her
statement.
"It doesn't matter," she responded, giving him an
obligatory smile.
When
Snape faced his first-years, a Gryffindor/Ravenclaw match up, the next day, it
was with a certain bitterness. He thought that he wouldn't mind the ignorance of the
students near as much if he were teaching them Defense Against the Dark Arts.
But that was Professor Elysia's job,
and she did an excellent job at it. Perhaps when she was gone—she was old, she would have to
retire soon—Dumbledore
would give him the job. After all, he knew more about the Dark Arts than anyone
else at the school.
"I am here," he said softly to the awed
first-years, "to teach
you the art of brewing potions, an art many witches and wizards fail to
possess. I want you to understand the delicacy of the perfect ingredients
meeting in the perfect combination, to kill, to extend life, to give
capabilities that you have never dreamed of before. If you are able to
concentrate, you can learn much from me. If not, I will hold it very much in
your disfavor." He
continued his speech, detailing the best ways to brew potions until the bell
rung. He saw the two Weasleys and Lee Jordan still in their seats, apparently
planning some mischief.
With
a spring in his step (he was feeling vindictive today, and wouldn't mind a nice punishment), he
began to walk towards them, but was startlingly upset in this task by the
entrance of Dr. Oliver. She breezed into the room, dressed in a tank top and
shorts, every inch of her covered with dust, from her frosty brown hair to her
well-meaning Nikes.
"Grayson," she said excitedly, giving him
a hug. "How was
your first day? Are you happy you came here?" She didn't seem
to realize that the entire roomful of students was staring at her. In the
wizarding community, robes were worn almost all the time, and to see someone
with this much skin exposed was a little shocking.
"Come on, Sylv," he muttered, his face bright
red, "Knock it off. I can do fine by
myself, I don't need
you checking up on me."
"You can check up on us!" one of the Weasley boys
offered.
Sylvia
turned, a smile lighting up her face. "Wonderful," she
proclaimed. "I need
someone to mother."
From
the looks that the twins were now giving, it did not seem that they wanted to
be mothered. Snape stopped this exchange with a curt, "Out!" and they fled. Sylvia began to
follow.
"Oh, no, no, Dr. Oliver," he said silkily, "I would like to speak with you
for a moment; please do stay."
She
turned curiously, and the look in her eyes was almost evil. "What is that you want, Professor
Snape?" she
asked, in the same silky tone that he had employed.
He
was taken aback, and stepped toward his desk a little nervously. "I merely wanted to say a word
about your clothing. I know things are different in your world," he said a bit contemptuously, "but I believe that the manner in
which you are dressed is not respectful to the authority of the school."
The look that had been in her eyes faded and she laughed merrily. "Oh, Sevy, that's so wonderful! 'The manner in which you are dressed is not respectful to the authority of the school.' Positively wonderful! However, it's so hot outside, and if you had the sun baking you all day, you wouldn't want to work in robes. I'll change when I come back in the school, though, don't worry. 'The authority of the school', really." She left, still laughing heartily.
