Title: Harry Potter and the Search for the Meaning of Life at Hogwarts, or The Hogwarts School Band
Chapter: Seven: Of Cauldrons and Cupboards
Rating: M for mature content, and adult conversations
Original Character: Alastor Daker
Reason for Edit: Noticed that the formatting had been screwed up, so decided to re-submit with correct editing. Plus I wanted to change a few of the things, as it was bit odd in places.
Notes: Please note that this was written waaay before 'Order of the Phoenix' so, the OWL grades and subjects for NEWTs don't tally with the canon. Best read this as an alternative 'book 7'. Also, check out my prequel 'The Gospel, according to Gilderoy Lockhart or The Hogwarts Gazette'.

Seven: Of Cauldrons and Cupboards

Once again, Harry Potter was talk of the school, but this time it was for his treatment of his Puffskein. Harry was furious with Dumbledore for removing from Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures class; it was the only class he was likely to pass! Hagrid was his friend, and unlike Snape or Daker was not going to fail him for who he was. Neville Longbottom had moved up the status ladder, he was no longer the clumsy kid who everyone usually ignored, for once he was the kid people listened to. People had found a new respect for Neville Longbottom. Harry felt jealous - he was the one who should be in the spotlight. He's the man who is destined to defeat the darkest wizard of all time, not some spotty clumsy kid who is only Head Boy as a favour to his grandmother!

He threw his Divination textbook violently down. The resounding clatter made several people look in his direction. Hermione Granger looked over the top of her Potions textbook, and Ron Weasley sneaked a glance at Harry from the middle of his chess game with Seamus Finnigan.

"Can you try and be a little more quiet?" Hermione asked him.

"What?" Harry asked, slightly astounded.

"I said, can you be a little more quiet, please. I'm trying to work something out, and you keep interrupting my thoughts!"

"How? I've not said anything!"

"Throwing your textbook down, grunting to yourself in annoyance AND tapping your foot against the floor! Stop it, please!"

"Well so-ry!" Harry said sarcastically. "I can't help being pissed off, can I?"

"You can actually."

"Oh yeah? How?"

"Go and speak to Hagrid and see if he will let you back on the Care of Magical Creatures course." That wasn't such a bad idea, but Harry was not going to allow her that pleasure, instead he gave a short grunt, which suggested he didn't exactly like that idea.

"Hey Ron," he said twisting in his chair.

"Yes?" Ron replied, still concentrating hard on the game.

"How did the Quidditch trials go yesterday? Make some good choices?"

Ron shook his head; "I decided that if I picked anyone you'd moan that I didn't pick the right person or something. Madame Hooch said you can re-arrange the trials if you want."

"Oh." Harry wanted to shout and scream at his friend, but something was stopping him. Perhaps it had been a good idea of Ron's not to pick the Quidditch team - it was Harry's decision and he couldn't trust anyone else to pick the best.

----

The staff room was unusually silent for a Sunday morning. There was usually something-daft going on, or a bit of loud talking, but for once it was very quiet. Several people were reading, and many of them were working on lesson plans or other important work that needed completing.

Professor McGonagall was flicking through a magazine she had confiscated from some sixth year girls during her Transfiguration lesson Friday afternoon. She was shocked by the magazines content - it had been aimed at teenage girls and yet in her opinion the content of the magazine was far advanced on teenage years! Really, no wonder the muggle world in Britain had the highest pregnancy rate in Europe! She turned the age, and her eyes nearly popped out of her socket.

"Good god!" She muttered out loud.

"What is it, Minerva?" Professor Sprout asked, looking up from her 'Herbology Monthly' magazine.

"This!" McGonagall passed the magazine across to her. Sprout's face too assumed the 'eyes popping out' expression.

"Not your usual reading." She mused.

"I didn't purchase it! I confiscated it off some sixth year girls on Friday, I'm amazed their parents let them buy such a magazine."

Sprout looked closer at the picture. "Very true… He's not bad looking though." Snape looked over Sprout's shoulder as he passed by on his way to the teapot.

"I bet he's stuffed socks down his shorts." Snape added.

"Very possibly." Sprout held the magazine closer. "Is that the type of thing you'd put on your bedroom wall, Severus?"

"Certainly not!" He grunted.

"He'd have to be naked to be on Spike's wall." Daker mused.

"It's your wall as well!"

"Ah, but I don't know what you've got pinned on it."

Madame Hooch laughed and opened her mouth to say something, "don't even suggest it!" Snape said to her, and she immediately closed her mouth. "I admit that we have a calendar with semi-naked firemen on it, they were raising money for Cancer Research."

"That's what they all say." Sprout said with a grin, she handed the magazine back to McGonagall. "Perhaps you should take a few points off them for being in possession of such obscene material."

"You should have seen what I found when I did my usual search of the Slytherin House!"

At the start and finish of every school year, Snape searched the Slytherin House common room and dormitories. It wasn't school policy to do so; it was Snape's policy. Anything illegal or against the rules was taken away at the beginning of the year to prevent any sort of trouble. Usually the Slytherin's obeyed the rules and never brought anything illegal into the school, but there was often the occasional rule breaker. When the object or objects were found, Snape handed them over to Professor Dumbledore who disposed of them. The ministry was never contacted, and no points were ever removed. It seemed best for the students involved and the school if such events were kept quiet.

"What did you find?" Hooch asked.

"A large quantity of soft-porn magazines, and some conception potions."

"Good lord!"

"I let them keep the conception potions since I don't exactly think it would be a good idea to send any kids home pregnant. And any cigarettes I found on those under sixteen I gave to the older years smokers or I kept myself."

"I wonder why it is that Slytherin produces more smokers than the other houses?"

"Possibly because all the rebellious kids end up in there." McGonagall suggested.

"That is not true!"

"Well, you have to admit you do get a lot of kids who are rebellious, confrontational and often trouble from the Slytherin house." Flitwick reminded everyone.

"If you look at the backgrounds some of them have, it's not surprising." Madame Pomfrey mused. "I get sent medical files for the first years, and many of them had had have emergency medical treatment, and the physician treating them has often made a note that the injuries appear to be 'suspicious'."

Snape sighed softly to himself and poured a cup of tea. "We all end up that house." He mumbled mostly to himself. Many of the staff could still remember the day it was revealed that Snape's drunkard of a father often beat him within an inch of his life. Everyone had been shocked to think someone could treat a young child that way, but yet others hadn't at all been surprised.

"Sorry, I… I really didn't mean to say that." Madame Pomfrey immediately apologised.

Snape stared at the wall directly in front of him and continued to make his cup of tea. "It's alright." He said, stirring the sugar into his tea, he turned slightly to face her. "Doesn't matter anymore."

----

Harry wandered somewhat mindlessly down to Hagrid's hut. He was going to take Hermione's suggestion, but of course he wasn't going to credit her with coming up with the idea. He hoped that Hagrid wasn't too mad with him over what had happened, but really, how was he, Harry Potter, supposed to find time to look after a baby Puffskein when he had all that school work, Quidditch work and preparations for Voldemort's attack to do?

Feeling slightly nervous now, Harry raised his hand cautiously. He wondered whether Hagrid would be in, or whether he would up in the staff room with the other members of the Hogwarts faculty. A feeling thought came into his mind, what if he said that it wasn't his Puffskein? What if he said it was someone else's Puffskein, there were a number of candidates… Someone who would want Harry to get into trouble… Seamus Finnigan possibly, but everyone knew that Seamus wasn't underhand enough to seek revenge. Neville Longbottom! That was it! He would tell Hagrid that it wasn't his Puffskein, it was Neville's and Neville had told and pretend it was his because he wanted Harry to be expelled. Although, he'd have to admit he was guilty of not feeding his Puffskein that morning.

"What do yer wan'?" Hagrid asked opening the door. Harry was unaware that he had actually knocked, but he must have done whilst he was thinking up his plan.

"Hi Hagrid," he said innocently. "Can I come in? I need to talk to you."

Hagrid grunted, "don' see why not, but reme'ber, yer aint exactly on me nu'ber one list, anymore."

"I know, Hagrid." Harry said in what he hoped was a sad voice. Hagrid appeared to think for a moment, and then decided to let Harry in.

Hagrid's Hut hadn't really changed that much in Harry's seven years at Hogwarts. A few more decorations, pictures and so forth had been added, just to cheer the place up. A photograph of Hagrid's wife, Madame Maxime, sat on the mantle piece, alongside Hagrid's teaching certificate and certificate saying that he was now allowed to practice magic (over the last few summers Hagrid had attended special summer classes which allowed him to finish his education.)

"Look, Hagrid, I want to say that I've been framed."

"Framed?" Hagrid seemed puzzled.

"The ill Puffskein wasn't mine! Yes I admit that I didn't feed mine that morning, I didn't have time, and I needed to prepare for the Quidditch trials and everything. The ill Puffskein was Neville Longbottom's."

"Neville's?"

"Yes! He pinned the blame on me."

"Why would he do that ter ya?"

"He's jealous. That's why he did it, just to get me into trouble. Hagrid, would I ever hurt a creature?"

Hagrid looked at Harry for a moment and considered his options. He couldn't make up his mind whether or not Harry was telling the truth. It wasn't like Harry to hurt animals, but it was even more unlikely that Neville Longbottom would.

"Look… er… Harry. If this is because yer wanta get back in ter me class, then I'm afraid I can't help ya. Yer gotta speak to Dumbledore 'bout it. I aint got the authority. An if yer were allowed back in ter me class, I'd expect ter see a higher standard of work from you!"

----

Hermione tapped on the staff room. She only had to wait a few moments before Professor Flitwick stuck his head out. "Yes Ms Granger?"

"Can I speak to Professor Snape please?" She asked timidly.

"Of course, come on in." Flitwick stepped back to allow Hermione into the staff room. The staff was all sitting round talking quietly, marking work, and planning lessons or reading. Professor Snape was sitting in the far corner of the room on the window seat reading a very old and slightly battered looking copy of Victor Hugo's masterpiece, 'Les Misérables'.

"Severus, visitor." Flitwick announced before resuming his seat. Snape looked up from his book and saw Hermione standing there. He beckoned her over and nervously she went over to him.

"Sit down." He suggested, indicating the space next to him on the windowsill. Hermione sat down, still feeling very nervous.

"I was wondering if you've looked at the predictions we made." She began.

"Yes I have, yours was good."

"Thanks, what I wanted to ask was, do you think it would be possible to do? Not too complicated or anything like that?"

Snape thought for a moment, "I'd have to order in a few things but other than that, yes, it seems perfectly acceptable to do."

"Do you know who are going to be taking the advanced papers?"

"Yes I do, and no I will not tell you."

"Please?"

Snape thought and took a breath, "alright, yes you will be one of the people taking the advanced paper."

"Do I have to do any special or extra work?"

"Er, yes and no. Yes you will need to do some extra work, but that usually takes place as either some evening classes or at the weekends. That will be organised nearing the time."

"Thanks." She stood up and accidentally knocked off Snape's battered book. "Oops." She picked it up and handed it to him. "Good book?"

"Very." He nodded thoughtfully. "Possibly my favourite book."

"I guessed." She grinned.

Snape looked at the book and he to smiled slightly, "yes I suppose that is a little self evident."

Hermione found herself grinning at him, then realising what she was doing went slightly pink and mumbled something.

"Severus, have you done a stock take of your potions supplies?" Professor McGonagall asked looking over her newspaper.

"No, not yet. When do you want the list for?" He replied.

"Preferably this afternoon so I that I can submit the budget proposals for the equipment and ingredients you need for this term."

Snape looked at his watch, "um, might take me a while."

"I'll help!" Hermione suddenly said. Snape almost jumped out of his seat (he'd forgotten Hermione was still standing there.) in fright.

"Thank you, Ms Granger." He said, he felt around in his pockets for the keys to the main potions store cupboard, they weren't there. "Go down to my office, the door's unlocked, there's a set of shelves on the wall nearest to the door, under that there is a small metal box, open it and take out the key labelled 'Potions One'. Meet me at the main potions store room."

Hermione went off to do her task. Snape was suddenly aware that most of the faculty was watching him with slight grins on their faces. "What?" He said looking at them, no one said anything but they continued to grin at him. "What!"

"I think you've got an admirer their, Severus." Professor Sprout said.

"Eh?" Then it twigged, "Oh no! Don't you even think that!"

"Well, you have to admit it Severus…"

"No! Look, she is a student with a boyfriend and plus I'm gay in case you've all suddenly forgotten!"

"Doesn't stop her taking a liking to you." Snape gave Professor Sprout one of the looks he reserved for people like Harry Potter. "Alright, alright! Like you said, she's a student and spoken for, and you're gay."

"Perhaps you ought to see a psychiatrist your mind seems to be permanently in the gutter!" He said icily before stalking out of the staff room, no longer in a good mood.

"Shella." Professor McGonagall said in a warning tone.

"Alright, I'll go and apologise."

"No, you're best waiting until he's calmed down a bit. He won't listen to you otherwise."

----

"Hagrid won't let me back onto the course!" Harry said as he stormed through the portrait hole. Quite a few people were not surprised that Hagrid wouldn't allow him back, Harry didn't deserve to be around animals if that's how he treated them. "And Madame Hooch won't let me book the Quidditch pitch again for trails!" Harry turned and saw Neville sitting in an armchair, Trevor sitting comfortably in his lap. "If you hadn't decided to play hero then none of this would have happened!"

"I had to tell someone! I couldn't just leave her there to die!" Neville replied, trying to keep his rage down.

"Yeah well, you shouldn't mess in other peoples business. Just because you want to be the 'famous' one doesn't mean you have to be a good two-shoes!"

"If being famous means I have to neglect and hurt innocent animals then forget it." Neville snapped. "You have a bad attitude problem, Potter, and I've got news for you - being famous doesn't give you the right to act like you are alpha-male in Gryffindor, or in the entire school." Neville stood and headed for the portrait hole.

"I've got more rights than you, Longbottom!"

"Yeah, right, Potter." Neville stepped out of the portrait hole, which closed before Harry, could shout anything else after him.

----

Snape and Hermione worked in silence listing the potions stock. Hermione could tell that he was pissed off about something, but she couldn't work how one moment ago he had been relatively happy, and now he was very pissed off.

There was a sounded of breaking glass to her left, and she turned in time to see Snape quickly get out of the way of falling glass. He muttered something and then grabbed the dustpan and brush of a nearby shelf and started to pick up the larger shards of glass.

"Shit!" He said as he successful cut his finger. It seemed to be quite a nasty cut since the blood was getting everywhere. The offending piece of glass was still impaled in his finger. Snape again swore. He tried to remove the piece of glass but only seemed to make the cut worse.

"Here, let me." Hermione bent down to his level and took his hand. "Doesn't look like it's gone in too far," she said, "hold still, it might hurt." She took some tweezers off the shelf she had been making notes on and proceeded to remove the shard of glass.

"Why are you doing this?" Snape asked suddenly.

"Well, there's a piece of glass in your finger and you need to get it out before you can clean up the cut…"

"No not this. Why did you volunteer to help me stock take?"

"Oh…" She looked at him, "Harry's on the war-path in the common room and I've not got any work to finish. I originally went along to the staff room to see if anyone wanted jobs doing, but I sort of lost my nerve." With a quick yank, Hermione pulled out the piece of glass.

"OW!"

Hermione grinned, "sorry."

Snape shrugged, "you warned me. Hand me a plaster out of the first aid kit."

Hermione turned and saw the green box hanging on a nail on the wall. "Why do you have a first aid kit when most cuts can be healed by magic or potions?"

"Saves time if you just stick a plaster over a cut, especially if you are in the middle of working on something. Once you've completed everything you can then resort to magical resources to treat the injury." He stuck the plaster she handed him over the cut. "Well, better make that nineteen glass beakers."

"Do you ever use a lot of this stuff?"

"All the stuff in here are ingredients that get used but aren't in the standard potions supplies we ask the students to bring. Since the same potions are made almost every year by the first years, it would be better if they had them in their potion supplies. Sadly though, these ingredients are either expensive, dangerous or hard to get hold of." He picked up his clipboard, "back to work I think."

They resumed their potions stock-take, Hermione noticed that the door had been left wide open with a box in front of the door to stop it closing. The door was covering some of the potions shelves that she was sure hadn't been listed. She moved the box, and the door started to close.

"Hold the door!" Snape shouted at her.

"What?"

Snape shot past her to grab hold of the door and prevent it from closing, but he was too late. The door closed with a SNAP and the room went dark. "Damnit!" Snape muttered. He started to bang on the door. "If anyone is out there, open the goddamned door!"

Hermione lit the lamp. "Sorry." She said meekly.

"And so you bloody well should be! The door only opens from the outside, and there is charm preventing it from being opened using magic on the door!" Snape hammered on the door again. "Fuck!"

"Are you all right?" She asked him, noticing that he seemed to be shaking and trying hard to keep control.

"Just shut up." Snape replied. He hammered once again on the door, "if anyone is there open this door!" Again, no one answered. "Damnit! The one fucking day of the year I'm stuck in a cupboard happens to be the only damned day the kids are doing some work!" He ran his shaking hand through his hair.

Hermione was starting to get slightly worried about Snape. It was common knowledge that Snape often sore quite violently on occasion, but it only seemed to be when he was angry, scared or stressed. She suddenly noticed that Snape seemed to be very short of breath, shaking more violently and that very visible sweat was running down his head.

"Sure you're all right?"

"Yes!" He snapped, searching his pockets for something his hands shaking violently. After a few moments of searching he found what he was looking for. His cigarettes. He put one in his mouth and tried to light it, but his hands were shaking too much.

"Here." Hermione lit a match for him. "You're claustrophobic, aren't you?" She sat down next to him. "I think I suffer from atychiphobia."

"Fear of failure?"

"Yes. You know about phobias?" She looked at him.

"Alastor's… That is, Professor Daker, father is a psychiatrist. We had a big discussion once on the different types of phobias." Hermione immediately felt uncomfortable at the mention of Alastor Daker. Snape laughed slightly, "Alastor's older brother has automatonophobia, fear of ventriloquist's dummies etc… I can remember him chasing Alastor round down the street because he'd put a huge wax-work clown in his room."

Hermione laughed as well. "Er… listen, I've got a sort of confession to make."

Snape looked at her strangely, "go on."

"Saturday night, I followed you."

"A lot of people do."

"I followed you into Professor Daker's office. I saw you and… him kissing."

Snape paled slightly, "oh."

"He was right when he said that there was someone in his office. I was under Harry's invisibility cloak."

Snape didn't say anything for a moment. "Have you um… told anyone?"

She shook her head, "no. I felt really guilty that I'd followed you. I felt pretty stupid that I'd paid any attention to Harry's suspicions."

"He suspected that Alastor and me were… er… you know." Snape seemed surprised; perhaps that boy did have some intelligence.

"No he didn't suspect that. He just said that he thought there was something going on between you since you were always together. He kept saying it was to do with You Know Who."

Then again, Potter seemed to have a one-track mind. "And you suspected something as well?"

"No! After a bit, I thought maybe Harry did have a point, so I followed you…and er…well…"

"Wasn't quite the thing you were looking for, was it?"

Hermione smiled, "no. For what it's worth I think you and Professor Daker make a great couple."

"You think so?" Hermione's plan of taking his mind off being trapped in a small room seemed to be working since Snape appeared to have clamed down a bit. She had been worried about using the tact-tick of telling him what she saw, but she was now relieved that she had told him.

"Yeah. You sort of contradict each others personalities, and well, you seem less nasty this year."

"I do?"

"Yup."

"Perhaps I should start yelling a few more Gryffindor's, just to dispel any more curious minds."

"That would probably make things worse." They both smiled. "Didn't know you smoked."

Snape laughed and looked at the half-smoked cigarette in his hand. "I've smoked since I was about thirteen."

"Thirteen!"

Snape nodded, "my step-mum used to smoke and so there was always half smoked packets of fags around the house. I was going through some really tough times and one day, I thought sod it, and took a half-smoked packet from her. I never smoked in public or at Hogwarts until I was about sixteen. Quite a lot of the older Slytherin's smoked and so the house master at the time had sort of designated a small corner of the common room for those of us who did smoke."

"They encouraged smoking!"

"No, if you were underage and caught by the house master you'd get points removed from the house, your fags confiscated and a nasty detention. And you know how much us Slytherin's pride on winning the house cup, so you never really got any rule breakers."

"Do you do the same?"

He nodded. "Yes, obviously we don't want people sneaking off round the school to smoke or being seen smoking in the school grounds, so it's best to provide places for those Slytherin's who do smoke."

"What about other houses?"

"Er, I don't really know. I think most of the other houses don't have smokers." Snape finished his cigarette. "Alastor's always telling me off, doesn't want me to 'ruin my voice'."

"What do you mean by 'ruin your voice'?"

"Oh, erm, well there used to be a Hogwarts School Band, as you probably know from your yearbook searches. I was the lead singer. Used to entertain my housemates in the evening with something from an opera. Alastor on the piano."

"There's a piano in the Slytherin common room?"

"Yes. Slytherin's are very musical, most of them have a passion for opera or classical music." He shrugged, "maybe it fits in with the 'evil' persona we have, or perhaps because many come from upper-class backgrounds and will have been taught to appreciate opera and classical music."

"Muggle stuff?"

"No, wizard 'stuff'. I was known to sing things from muggle operas, since well, I'm a baritone and a lot of muggle stuff has been written for a baritone. A lot of the wizards who go into opera are tenor or counter tenor. Strange really."

Someone banged loudly on the door, and both Snape and Hermione jumped to their feet. "Professor Snape?" It was Argus Filch and for once in her life Hermione was glad that he was there.

"Here, Argus!" Snape shouted. There was the scrapping sound of keys and to both Snape and Hermione's relief Filch pulled open the door. They stepped gratefully out. "Thank you."

"Professor McGonagall sent me to look for you."

"Good." Snape looked at Hermione, "I would be entirely grateful if you never breathed a word of it… Unless you want to be very sorry indeed!"

Hermione understood and grinned. "Of course." She said before he could walk off.

"Now I suggest you get back to your common room before Harry Potter starts sending out search parties complete with death warrants."