DISCLAIMER: All Harry Potter people, places and things are the work and property of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., Bloomsbury, Raincoast, Scholastic, yadda yadda yadda. If anyone thinks I invented this stuff, they must have been living under a rock for the past 4 years--and in that case, why the hell are they reading HP fanfic anyway? I'm also making no profit from this, so please don't sue--all you'll get is an ancient laptop and a decidedly eclectic book collection.
A/N: Something I forgot to mention in my last two notes; the new DADA teacher was inspired by interior designer Lawrence Llewellyn-Bowen, of the BBC's "Changing Rooms" (TLC "Trading Spaces" viewers will have seen him on the last "British Invasion Week"). Someone on a list (forget who, sorry!) mentioned they could see LLB as Snape, but I thought he looked too nice to be SS. At that moment, Crispin Livingston-Bottomley walked into my head and introduced himself. :-) Also, Crispin's name is only partly made up: I knew a guy in high school whose name was Crispin Bottomley, and vowed I would remember that name, as it was too perfect for literary purposes. Sorry Crispin, but your name just fit!
Also, as we university students usually don't eat anywhere classier than the local McDonald's, I cribbed Snape's dinner choices from the First-Class dinner menu of the R.M.S. Titanic for April 15, 1912.
"The Lady of Shalott" was written by Alfred Lord Tennyson, included in his poetry collection, Idylls of the King. Loreena McKennitt has made a gorgeous song out of it, which was on repeat on my CD player for the first part of writing this.
Jan. 9, 2003: Did a fairly large edit, as upon reading through I've spotted a hundred little things that should be fixed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 3: The Professors' Formal
Eve woke late on her first full morning back at Hogwarts. Late morning sun peeped through a chink in the window curtains, and her room felt a little stuffy. Stretching lazily, she climbed out of bed and pulled the curtains open, blinded for a moment by the sun, before opening the casement windows and letting a warm, humid breeze in the room. Erik yowled loudly for attention and she picked him up, leaning him against her shoulder before taking a closer look at her new room.
The tapestry over the fireplace caught her attention first; the night before she'd been so overwhelmed by the room as a whole she hadn't really seen what the tapestry depicted. Now, stepping close to it, she recognized its subject. It was a scene from Tennyson's "The Lady of Shallot", one of her favourite poems, ironically enough. Half the tapestry showed the Lady, working at her loom in her lonely tower, weaving the images she saw in the magic mirror in front of her into fabric. On the right half was the view from her tower, which she was forbidden to see, save in the mirror. Reapers worked in a golden field of wheat, while two young lovers walked arm in arm down a road beside the field, toward the distant view of Camelot.
The tapestry was rather large and the detail was remarkable, appearing to be embroidered rather than woven. It was amazing work, though Eve had to wonder who had done it. It looked like medieval tapestries she had seen in museums, though most of those were woven, but it couldn't be that old; Tennyson's poem was written in the Victorian era. There was even a couple lines from the poem embroidered at the bottom of the tapestry: "She knows not what the curse may be/And so she weaveth steadily/Little other care hath she/The Lady of Shalott." But few, if any, would have done something so large and elaborate in Victorian times. Then again, if a little magic was used to help the artist along...
Eve gave a mental shrug. She would have to ask McGonagall or Dumbledore about the tapestry's provenance. It was a masterpiece, whenever it was made and whomever made it.
After a long, relaxing bath, Eve dressed for the day then headed down to lunch in the staffroom, where a few of the other teachers had already assembled. McGonagall stopped her as she came in and let her know that the new teachers would been meeting with herself and Dumbledore for a bit of an introduction to the school, all the little things that would be useful in day-to-day activities, like how to summon a house-elf, or which staircases or passageways were to be avoided.
"We would also like to meet with you sometime this week to check on the new curriculum and see how it's coming. Would Thursday afternoon be a good time?"
Eve answered in the affirmative and after lunch went back up to her office to set things in order and work on the curriculum. While the house-elves had unpacked, Eve spent much of the afternoon putting her books into something of an order, as well as looking at those she had inherited with the office. There were a number of Muggle Studies texts and works by eminent muggle researchers of the past, but there were many Eve found more amusing for their viewpoint than would be particularly useful. Many of the older texts took a very distant, rather elitist view of Muggles, as though they were bugs in a jar. Not all that different from many of the historic texts she'd read in her history courses of British explorers and travellers describing the culture and traditions of ethnic groups they had come into contact with. Social Darwinism at its strongest.
There were quite a few more modern works which were much better, however, though the tone of one or two rankled. There were more that were written by muggle-born witches and wizards, which helped a great deal. These would definitely more useful in the new curriculum.
Though Eve could hardly believe it when Dumbledore told her, she was apparently the first fully muggle-born teacher of Muggle Studies. There had primarily been half-muggle teachers, or those whose muggle ancestry was a generation or two back, not first-generation witches or wizards. Then again, Dumbledore had said it was a relatively recent addition to the curriculum, first offered in the early eighteenth century, and considering wizarding life spans, there hadn't been a large turnover rate in the position.
This was the primary reason for the new curriculum; new blood meant a new opportunity to change things. Her predecessor, Professor Truman, had done a fair job of starting the changes, but he was a third-generation wizard, raised in the late nineteenth century, and like most magic folk, still harboured some biases. Eve knew this was a pitfall she'd have to try and avoid; she had her own biases to contend with, even if more of the time it seemed she leaned a little too far the other way. But she wasn't doing this blindly, either. Both Dumbledore and McGonagall were supervising the new curriculum, and so far they had supported all her ideas.
The main change would be in the sources used: mainly Muggle texts, instead of wizarding ones. Muggle novels, muggle history, geography and psychology texts. She'd wanted to include science in that curriculum, but the board had seen it either as useless or as standing on other teachers' toes (she wasn't sure which, though the last had been the reason they gave her); Potions and Chemistry had obvious links, as did Transfiguration and Charms to Physics. While something of a drawback, Eve did feel a little relieved about their decision. Though she hadn't planned to teach anything near the same age level science as would be taught in Muggle schools, it did save her the trouble of trying to learn (or re-learn) the subject, as she hadn't taken it beyond her O-Levels. She did have texts for the sciences in the Muggle Studies research library, however, housed in the classroom along with other muggle books.
Madam Pince hadn't been entirely pleased with having a smaller library separate from the main one, but as she knew little about Muggle books and as they couldn't be charmed to protect them from vandalism, they needed more care and monitoring than could be had in the main library, without putting them in the Restricted Section. This way, the access to the books could be guarded, while still letting students browse the shelves, and at least there was some less chance of their being destroyed. Nor had Madam Pince been able to get an approved increase in her budget for the expense of buying Muggle books, though she had tried for a number of years. As Muggle Studies professor, it naturally fell to Eve to choose the books and monitor who was taking them out, while the advance on her pay and slight budget increase for the new curriculum had allowed her to purchase quite a large number of books.
The change in curriculum would be somewhat tricky though. It would be easiest with the third-years, who had never had the subject before. They wouldn't know the difference between the new curriculum and the old, though likely they had heard that Muggle Studies was a soft option from housemates and older siblings. This course would be decidedly less soft under the new rules.
It was the upper years that would be hardest to teach, as they would be used to the old way of doing things, particularly the seventh-years. They would be the most used to the older methods, and would only be there for a year. But at least those who were in the course beyond the O.W.L.s were those that were interested in the subject.
Most of it would come down to the teaching, which made Eve rather nervous though she wasn't terrified by the prospect. She did have some training and experience in education, it being her speciality in her Museum Studies courses and in her work experience in museums. However it was very different planning a one-time educational program as opposed to planning an entire year's worth of lessons, and seeing the same children every week during that time. If there were problem children she would have to deal with them, not simply wait for the teacher to do something or until the program was over, then give a sigh of relief that she'd likely never have to see them again.
When she mentioned this at their Thursday meeting, Dumbledore and McGonagall seemed confident in her teaching abilities, and she did have the other teachers as a pool of resources. Most of them had been doing this for years, and by the end of her first week, many had come to her and offered their help if she ever needed it. She also felt much more relaxed around the other teachers. She felt accepted as an equal, instead of that awful in-between feeling she'd had as a student, and it helped that there were other new teachers as well. Crispin was particularly nice, very open and friendly, though occasionally his energy and talkativeness could be a little wearing. Overall, though, he was a nice face to see across the dinner table at the end of a day spent poring over books and parchment. Particularly as she had the same dinner companions as had been placed next to her at the first dinner: Professor Binns on one side, Snape on the other. All she could do was cross her fingers that once school started and meals moved into the Great Hall, that she would have more interesting table-mates.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Snape buttoned his dress robes one week after most of the teachers' arrival, preparing for the annual Formal Arrival Feast. It was considerably easier dressing himself than it had been a week before, as since Madam Pomfrey's arrival he had fully healed. Finally he could swoop around like his usual self, no longer carefully measuring every move to avoid the pain in his side which had inevitably followed.
He also hadn't had another Summons, which was rather good luck. One could never tell when it would come or how often. Sometimes he had two in nearly as many days, other times he would not be called for a week or two. Never longer than two weeks. The Dark Lord was being more cautious this time, rarely calling all his followers to him at once. More often he summoned them for progress reports or for specific missions. The previous week had been something of an exception, though Snape was fairly certain that not all of the Death Eaters had been there. It was hard to tell, he only ever worked with a few others. Like the last time, Voldemort apparently had his followers divided into smaller cells, and each Death Eater only knew for certain the others in their cell. That was, of course, exactly how he wanted it. If his followers never knew the names of those outside their cell, or even how many Death Eaters there were total, they could not expose the entire group to the Ministry. Snape knew the names of some of those outside his cell, however, having gleaned their identities from shapes or voices heard at larger meetings, or from descriptions of deeds that the Dark Lord had mentioned. He'd known the names of more Death Eaters during the last war, and it wasn't hard to assume that most of those who were not dead had returned.
The entire business is just incredibly frustrating, he thought as he bent to tie up his shoelaces. Even those names he knew were of limited use to Dumbledore and the Ministry, as if those who were in his cell were all captured except him, it would clearly expose him as a spy. Voldemort didn't entirely trust him; though how little trust was there, Snape wasn't sure. Voldemort didn't trust anyone these days. He wasn't an idiot, either, and if Snape was the last man standing in his cell, the cause would be all too obvious. The most they could do was to carefully monitor the activities of the others in his cell, and if they were in the Ministry, feed them inaccurate information. The few suspected names he had outside his cell were more useful. They could be watched or arrested without too much fear of Snape being exposed.
It was incredibly delicate business, however, and if Voldemort didn't entirely trust him, the Ministry didn't either. Occasionally he toyed with the idea of saying, "To hell with them both," and emigrating to some far-off place. Some jungle in South America or the primeval forest of Canada, where no one had heard of Voldemort or Cornelius Fudge. It was never anything near a serious idea, though. Just a stress-release valve, something he could imagine when he was fed up with the whole business. Though at times the thought of never teaching again did have its appeal.
Picturing a lonely, snow-covered cabin by some remote lake in the Canadian north, he walked up to the staffroom; smiling inwardly, even if outwardly he appeared as stern as ever. The Formal was usually a fairly tolerable affair. The food was very good and generally the teachers saved excessive merriment until after dinner.
He was early, as per usual, and only a couple other teachers had arrived. He sat at his usual spot, hoping that the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher wouldn't be too exuberant tonight (that man had the particular talent of grating on Snape's nerves), and that Berger would be in one of her more reflective moods, instead of cackling in his ear every thirty seconds at something Sinistra or Livingston-Bottomley had said.
The other teachers arrived in spurts, usually entering to exclamations of how they appeared in their dress robes from those already seated. Snape hardly noticed what the others were wearing, as he paid little attention to such things himself. He could hardly avoid noticing McGonagall's Stuart tartan, however, or at least taking a glance at those sitting across or next to him. Bottomley was wearing ivory satin robes, which gave Snape a momentary thought of amusement as he hoped they would be served something with a rather dark sauce.
Finally all the teachers were present and dinner began, each diner choosing their selected entree from a menu by their plates, with self-refilling champagne flutes at each place. Snape noticed that Berger touched hers with her wand, but he couldn't catch the incantation she used, she spoke so quietly. However, he did see that she seemed to be drinking from her glass quite a lot. He made a mental note to stay away from her after dinner, he didn't need to hear her chiming in with the other teachers that had had a little overmuch. Not that he was a teetotaller, he enjoyed champagne at dinner and Old Ogden's on a winter evening as much as any other man, but at least he knew his limits.
He did have to admit that dinner was excellent. His lamb was done perfectly, the accompanying mint sauce wasn't too strong, and the seasoned new potatoes were sweet and flavourful. The house-elves had outdone themselves. Not only that, but it seemed everyone was very relaxed (which could have been the self-refilling champagne, now that he thought of it), and conversation was quiet and easy. He spoke a little to some of his fellow teachers, when it suited him or when he was addressed, but for the most part was content to listen and to eat in peace.
Once the puddings had been magically cleared away, most of the teachers moved to the stuffed chairs with tea, coffee, or their champagne. Snape deftly avoided being drawn into conversation and instead escaped to the entrance hall and thence to the grounds, as the staffroom was feeling rather stuffy and warm, and its occupants getting a little too noisy for his taste.
He could not escape completely unnoticed, however. As he opened the main doors to the grounds, he noticed Eve Berger sitting on one of the stone walls that bordered the steps to the castle's main doors. He hadn't noticed what she was wearing before, but now he could see she was wearing long, summery dress robes in a blue-grey colour. Her feet, shod in some strappy, high-heeled sandal affair, didn't touch the steps, and she swung her feet slightly. The only other movement she made was to occasionally push stray strands of hair off her face, though the warm breeze seemed to inevitably sweep them back in front of her eyes. She was turned away from him, looking out onto the grounds, but as he opened the door and light from the Entrance Hall spilled onto the steps she gave a quick glance back at him, then looked away.
Snape wondered why on earth she had to leave the party. He wasn't in the mood for conversation and he didn't want her to think she had scared him away from the steps, but neither did he want to talk, which she probably would (even only out of politeness) if he remained. Then again, he was a master at discouraging conversations when he chose to.
But she didn't say anything, even when he sat on the opposite wall. She simply stared at the grounds and the stars, sipping her champagne and swinging her feet. Good. He could sit and think in peace, then.
He'd been sitting for about five minutes when she hopped off her seat and turned to leave. He couldn't resist getting a dig in before she left, particularly as he remembered that she'd seen him in a rather vulnerable state after that last summons.
"Will you be needing some Hangover Remedy too, Berger?" he said as she opened one of the front doors.
She turned to look at him coolly, her glass easily balanced in one hand. "I would, if I'd been drinking champagne all evening." She waggled her glass in his direction. "However, I've been drinking ginger ale. Can't stand the taste of champagne. But thanks ever so kindly for the offer, Professor Snape." Her last sentence had a touch of sarcasm in its tone, and Snape would have snapped something back at her if she hadn't slipped into the Entrance Hall immediately. Provoking woman. No better now than she was as a student; worse actually, as she wouldn't have dared be so cheeky when he could have easily taken house points from her.
His thoughts on the subject did not last however, as he felt an insistent, stinging pain in his left forearm, like a mild burn. He was being Summoned.
His next steps were so familiar to be automatic. He hurried into the staff room and disposed of his champagne glass, at the same time making eye contact with Dumbledore and nodding his head toward the door. Dumbledore nodded in understanding--Snape always notified the headmaster somehow when he'd been summoned--and Snape hurried down to his quarters, grabbed his Death Eater robes and mask and quickly poured a little of the Superego Potion into a glass vial, just in case it was required. After stoppering the vial, he hurried out again, pulling on his robes as he took a little-used passageway out of Hogwarts and onto the grounds. From there he hurried down the driveway leading to the school gates, and once he was on the other side, donned his mask before Apparating, holding the Dark Lord in his mind so that he would Apparate to his side.
He arrived, and quickly purged himself of any emotion that would give lie to his thoughts, betraying himself. He spared one small glance for his surroundings--a familiar, shabby-looking room, with a brightly burning fire at one end--before hurrying to where Voldemort sat in a large chair, in front of the fire. Snape immediately knelt at the Dark Lord's feet, as was customary.
"You may stand, Severus," Voldemort said, in that cold, high voice Snape loathed. "Did you have any trouble leaving Hogwarts tonight?"
"No, my Lord. The other teachers were at a party, and I had already slipped out onto the grounds. There were none to see me leave." Though he couldn't look away from Voldemort, Snape could see through his peripheral vision that there were no other Death Eaters present, save that snivelling toad, Pettigrew. Every time Snape saw the man he wanted to throttle him, not so much for being the Dark Lord's toady, but because his very existence was a reminder that Snape had been wrong about Sirius Black, when he had so desperately wanted to be--and thought himself to be--right.
"My worker bees have been busy of late. I am in need of the following potions, within forty-eight hours' time. I trust you will be able to fulfil my request?" Pettigrew handed Snape a sheet of parchment with a list of four potions written on it. Snape took only a perfunctory glance at the list. It didn't really matter how many potions were needed or what ones, the answer had to be the same, no matter what.
"Of course, my Lord." One never gave a negative answer to Lord Voldemort, that is, if one wished to return home whole and pain-free.
"Good. I will expect you here on Sunday night, at this time with all of the potions on that list. Have you anything to report?"
"Dumbledore has been rather busy with the new school year approaching, as well as his other activities. However, I have found out who the new teachers are, as well as one of the Ministry's plans." Snape elaborated, giving the names and positions of the new teachers. It was a small token, considering the Daily Prophet usually published that information in late August, and even if they didn't, the children of Death Eaters would be sending their parents letters from school mentioning their teachers soon enough. At most Snape's information let Voldemort know who the new teachers were two weeks before it was announced, not something of great importance. He and Dumbledore had planned for his other piece of "information" to be more interesting.
"Dumbledore has requested that I begin research on a potion to protect Aurors from the Unforgiveable curses. No Ministry researcher has been doing this so far, as they have been concentrating on some sort of charm to do the same thing, but have been unsuccessful. He and the Ministry have given me carte blanche to order ingredients. As they have already underestimated the possibility of a potion as an answer to this problem, it will not be hard for me to persuade them that my results have been less successful than they would hope, should I come upon any discoveries."
Voldemort smiled, a truly awful sight with his thin lips and skeletal face. Snape had to take extra care to keep his revulsion down where it could not be detected through Legilimency. "Excellent. You may leave, Severus. I will see you here in forty-eight hours' time."
Snape bowed deeply, then Apparated back to Hogwarts. His meeting with Dumbledore was brief this time, and within fifteen minutes he was back in his quarters, looking at the list of potions required. Veritaserum, Superego Potion, Draught of Living Death, and Polyjuice Potion. They were some of the most common ones requested and he purposely kept a large stock as the Dark Lord didn't care how long some of them took to make, invariably wanting them within a short period of time. Besides, they were the same ones that the Order often needed, and even though they were technically on the same side as the Ministry, the Order preferred to work separately, for obvious reasons. Somehow it didn't surprise him that the same tools were used by either side; whether the potion was good or evil depended not on its nature but that of the person using it. Then again, he had always known that good and evil were not so clear cut as some of those fighting in this war thought.
Rummaging through his private cupboards, he found sufficient quantity of the potions requested to keep the Dark Lord happy, though his supply of Polyjuice was getting low. Requiring a month to mature, Snape thought that he should probably start preparing it immediately, as based on the rough records he kept, the Order would be needing some within at least a month. He would have to double-check his orders for ingredients, see which reputable supplier he hadn't contacted in a while. No need to make anyone suspicious about his ordering large quantities of rare ingredients. At least he didn't have to pay for the ingredients himself, something which would have bankrupted him long ago. The late Sirius Black had been the last member of a rather wealthy line, and had left his fortune to the Order for their cause.
Probably the one useful thing he ever did, Snape mused, before losing himself in the exacting methods of potion-making.