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Shorter. much shorter
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As the class climbed out of the tower room, Hermione almost fell onto Harry's head.
"What? You knew who that thing was, too?" Ron hazarded. "Or do you know what happened to Snape? You've got that 'I suddenly had a fantastic thought' look."
Hermione nodded. "That thing was a nightmare," she said. "Literally, a nightmare made and given shape. And Professor Snape."
She started giggling a bit.
"Well, for one, his usual appearance is most likely a glamour."
"How do you figure? Why would he choose to be an ugly git?" Ron blinked,
"Maybe he doesn't want people knowing who he really is," said Harry, who had experience in the matter.
"Exactly. Because he...well, he looked like something I read about in the text."
"You've already read the text?" Ron was now boggling. "I shouldn't be as surprised as I am.but it's four inches thick, Hermione."
Hermione smiled and shrugged. "I'm a fast reader," she said lightly, then cleared her throat (this made Harry and Ron jump a bit) and took a deep breath. "Professor Snape looked like.he looked like what was once supposed to be the Lord of Dreams."
Silence.
".What?" Ron said.
"Did your mother ever tell you of the sandman when you were little?"
"Yeah, sometimes. She said he was like a boy all in white, and he was responsible for all the dreams there are. Kind of like a conductor at those poncy operas Percy goes to."
"The one before that looked like Snape did back in there. Black hair, black robe. Absurdly pale, like someone dead. Sometimes he had a sort of helmet." Hermione gestured.
Harry saw something familiar in the outline she drew in the air. "The book I opened that screamed at me.remember when I tried to storm the library in first year? Hold on a minute."
He pulled some parchment and a quill out of his backpack and scribbled furiously a bit, then held it up. "Ta-dah. And no, drawing is not my strong point, but it looked worse in the book."
What he had drawn was a figure in a black robe. What appeared to be flames decorated the bottom. It wore a strange helmet that looked like a cross between an alien, a dragonfly, and bones, and in its hand was a small pouch, and on its chest was an ornate jewelled necklace.
Next to it was written Here is said the King of Dreams.
"It was spelt oddly, though, I think. It was hard to see. It was yelling at me at the time."
"Like that Ye Olde Englishe," Ron snorted.
"Exactly. With the funny 'f' shape instead of 's' and whatnot."
"It would have been back there," said Hermione. "That book was once used in.well, not dark arts so much as some Muggles giving us all a horrid reputation. But that doesn't matter. What matters is that.well, it's almost impossible, but it could be that after the old King of Dreams died, he got reborn. And he got reborn as Snape."
Ron winced. "Must've done something nasty for that to happen."
*()()()()()()()*
Snape pressed lightly on a torch bracket.
On the other side of the secret passage, Minerva McGonagall let out a sigh as her blackboard slid up. She put down her chalk and crossed her arms.
"I was preparing a lesson, Severus," she said, and then started as she got a good look at him. She took off her glasses, cleaned them, and set them back on her nose.
"You've dropped your glamour," she said.
"Not intentionally," he replied, sitting down heavily on the desk and brushing his hair out of his eyes. This only served to make it stand out in even more odd directions.
"What on earth happened? You look horrid. Well, not horrid as usual."
"Ah, ha, ha."
McGonagall gave him a half-smile. "Well, your slashing wit is still in place, so I know you're sound of mind and body. Now I'll ask you again: what on earth happened."
"Remember when we were students, and I told you my middle names? Well, they are as they are for a reason. I believe I've just had a sort of flashback to a past life."
"Have you been drinking the tea Sybill left?" McGonagall looked alarmed.
"Heavens, no. I value my sanity and neurons." He smirked, and then looked at the ceiling. "Minerva, I just told off the Corinthian. I reduced him to a quivering, squeaking mess. And I liked it immensely, but that's not the point."
"What is? Usually you're more direct than this."
"It just seems absurd."
"I swear I will not laugh."
"I.I remember seeing him before this, and not in the text. I saw him in person. I made him. Then I destroyed him and remade him. He was always flawed, and always a rebellious git.and I don't know why I know this."
"That would certainly worry me, were I in your position." McGonagall drummed her fingers pensively on the blackboard, which had descended back into place. "Especially since it seems that the only logical conclusion is that you are a living incarnation of a dead idea."
"Shockingly, I am not reassured."
McGonagall gave him a look. "I am by nature horrible at reassuring."
"But you're truthful." Snape sighed. "For that, I am eternally grateful. And you've just forced me to stop resisting the moral, which is better for me in the long run. However, I must insist you buy me a mocha because you were the official bearer of bad news."
"Agreed. One mocha, however. Any refills are your responsibility."
"Of course." Snape stood with a sigh. "Well, I suppose I ought to go tell Albus about this. He's probably known all along, though. Albus is like that sometimes. I think I may go visit my potions supplier first, though. Give me time to clear my head by arguing with that small-minded, tight- fisted git behind the counter."
McGonagall snickered. "Go forth and argue. I'll let Albus know you'll be seeing him."
As the class climbed out of the tower room, Hermione almost fell onto Harry's head.
"What? You knew who that thing was, too?" Ron hazarded. "Or do you know what happened to Snape? You've got that 'I suddenly had a fantastic thought' look."
Hermione nodded. "That thing was a nightmare," she said. "Literally, a nightmare made and given shape. And Professor Snape."
She started giggling a bit.
"Well, for one, his usual appearance is most likely a glamour."
"How do you figure? Why would he choose to be an ugly git?" Ron blinked,
"Maybe he doesn't want people knowing who he really is," said Harry, who had experience in the matter.
"Exactly. Because he...well, he looked like something I read about in the text."
"You've already read the text?" Ron was now boggling. "I shouldn't be as surprised as I am.but it's four inches thick, Hermione."
Hermione smiled and shrugged. "I'm a fast reader," she said lightly, then cleared her throat (this made Harry and Ron jump a bit) and took a deep breath. "Professor Snape looked like.he looked like what was once supposed to be the Lord of Dreams."
Silence.
".What?" Ron said.
"Did your mother ever tell you of the sandman when you were little?"
"Yeah, sometimes. She said he was like a boy all in white, and he was responsible for all the dreams there are. Kind of like a conductor at those poncy operas Percy goes to."
"The one before that looked like Snape did back in there. Black hair, black robe. Absurdly pale, like someone dead. Sometimes he had a sort of helmet." Hermione gestured.
Harry saw something familiar in the outline she drew in the air. "The book I opened that screamed at me.remember when I tried to storm the library in first year? Hold on a minute."
He pulled some parchment and a quill out of his backpack and scribbled furiously a bit, then held it up. "Ta-dah. And no, drawing is not my strong point, but it looked worse in the book."
What he had drawn was a figure in a black robe. What appeared to be flames decorated the bottom. It wore a strange helmet that looked like a cross between an alien, a dragonfly, and bones, and in its hand was a small pouch, and on its chest was an ornate jewelled necklace.
Next to it was written Here is said the King of Dreams.
"It was spelt oddly, though, I think. It was hard to see. It was yelling at me at the time."
"Like that Ye Olde Englishe," Ron snorted.
"Exactly. With the funny 'f' shape instead of 's' and whatnot."
"It would have been back there," said Hermione. "That book was once used in.well, not dark arts so much as some Muggles giving us all a horrid reputation. But that doesn't matter. What matters is that.well, it's almost impossible, but it could be that after the old King of Dreams died, he got reborn. And he got reborn as Snape."
Ron winced. "Must've done something nasty for that to happen."
*()()()()()()()*
Snape pressed lightly on a torch bracket.
On the other side of the secret passage, Minerva McGonagall let out a sigh as her blackboard slid up. She put down her chalk and crossed her arms.
"I was preparing a lesson, Severus," she said, and then started as she got a good look at him. She took off her glasses, cleaned them, and set them back on her nose.
"You've dropped your glamour," she said.
"Not intentionally," he replied, sitting down heavily on the desk and brushing his hair out of his eyes. This only served to make it stand out in even more odd directions.
"What on earth happened? You look horrid. Well, not horrid as usual."
"Ah, ha, ha."
McGonagall gave him a half-smile. "Well, your slashing wit is still in place, so I know you're sound of mind and body. Now I'll ask you again: what on earth happened."
"Remember when we were students, and I told you my middle names? Well, they are as they are for a reason. I believe I've just had a sort of flashback to a past life."
"Have you been drinking the tea Sybill left?" McGonagall looked alarmed.
"Heavens, no. I value my sanity and neurons." He smirked, and then looked at the ceiling. "Minerva, I just told off the Corinthian. I reduced him to a quivering, squeaking mess. And I liked it immensely, but that's not the point."
"What is? Usually you're more direct than this."
"It just seems absurd."
"I swear I will not laugh."
"I.I remember seeing him before this, and not in the text. I saw him in person. I made him. Then I destroyed him and remade him. He was always flawed, and always a rebellious git.and I don't know why I know this."
"That would certainly worry me, were I in your position." McGonagall drummed her fingers pensively on the blackboard, which had descended back into place. "Especially since it seems that the only logical conclusion is that you are a living incarnation of a dead idea."
"Shockingly, I am not reassured."
McGonagall gave him a look. "I am by nature horrible at reassuring."
"But you're truthful." Snape sighed. "For that, I am eternally grateful. And you've just forced me to stop resisting the moral, which is better for me in the long run. However, I must insist you buy me a mocha because you were the official bearer of bad news."
"Agreed. One mocha, however. Any refills are your responsibility."
"Of course." Snape stood with a sigh. "Well, I suppose I ought to go tell Albus about this. He's probably known all along, though. Albus is like that sometimes. I think I may go visit my potions supplier first, though. Give me time to clear my head by arguing with that small-minded, tight- fisted git behind the counter."
McGonagall snickered. "Go forth and argue. I'll let Albus know you'll be seeing him."