Disclaimer: Snape belongs to J. K. Rowling, and the Discworld and all of its associated characters belong to Terry Pratchett.

A/N: And here the fun begins. =)

.....

Chapter 2
Am I Here Yet?

Severus Snape awoke slowly. Every bone in his body ached. He opened his eyes.

He closed them again, and blinked a few times. This couldn't be right.

This had to be Hell! Instead of snow, as he had expected, all he could see was cabbage. He was lying rather uncomfortably between two rows of the horrible stuff.

Who would have thought that an idiot like Lockhart could do such a good job of shielding himself? he thought, disgusted. On reflection, perhaps I gave him too much time to recover.

Ah, well. There would be enough time later to grumble about stupid mistakes. For now, Snape had one rather pressing problem: where in the Universe was he?

Slowly, carefully, Snape picked himself up off of the ground and retrieved his wand from the cabbage it had speared itself into. For miles around, all that could be seen was cabbage—field after field of round green cabbage. Still, off in the horizon in some direction, he saw a cloud of dust and smoke which could only mean one thing. There was a city in that direction. A very dirty city, but still a city.

Gritting his teeth, he walked towards it.

Anything has to be better than cabbage.

.....

If Snape had had the energy to curse, the air around him would have practically been blue. He had been walking for five hours and his feet were tired, he was thirsty, and he was sick of seeing cabbages. If I never see another cabbage again, it will be far too soon, he thought grimly. But at least he seemed to be coming close to the city; he could almost see the gate as it was.

However, the city would contain enough problems of its own. He had no means of knowing what currency they used there, or any way of obtaining said currency without resorting to illegal means. He had no idea where anything was, or if this town were full of muggles, or what the political climate—often a very tricky and very important aspect of life anywhere—was like. With similar gloomy thoughts, he approached the city gate within an hour.

"Halt!"

Not wishing to get into any confrontations just yet, Snape halted.

"Who goes there?" The speaker was dressed in old Roman-style armour, complete with sandals, and carrying a short sword.

"My name is Snape," said Snape. "Severus Snape."

"What is your business in Ankh-Morpork?" asked the guard.

"I seek the University," he said, taking a chance that a city this large had at least one university.

The guard peered at him nervously. "Hey, you ain't one of them wizarding folk, is you? Only, our mum always told us to stay away from 'em."

"Yes, I am. I would be quite…displeased if you were to continue to prove an obstruction to me," said Snape, irritated at what he perceived as the guard's insolence.

"Only, you ain't short or fat or wearin' bright robes, and you ain't got a big pointy hat on," said the guard. "Couldn't be havin' with a wizard without them things."

"I have simply wished to keep my identity as a wizard a secret," he said.

"Beggin' yer pardon, sir, but why would a wizard not want people to know what he is?"

"I was doing some secret wizard things," said Snape, shortly. "Now, let me in, or I'll turn you into a frog."

"No, that ain't wizards, that's witches—CROAK!" A frog now sat in the middle of the gate, the armour in a pile around it.

"It'll wear off in an hour or two," said Snape, putting his wand away as the frog croaked madly behind him. He stepped through the gate and into the strangely-named city of Ankh-Morpork.

.....

The name "Ankh-Morpork" was not the only odd thing about the city. Within half an hour, Snape had encountered more inept guards, including a redheaded one who had attempted to greet him by name, a vendor who had attempted to sell him a sausage or a meat pie at a price which he claimed was "cutting me own throat", a monk carrying a broom, and a pair of thieves who had demanded their yearly allotment from him, or something of the sort. The result was a pair of rats and a slightly richer Severus Snape. But the strangest thing had to be the dog at his feet.

If it could even be called a dog, that was. It was dog-shaped, all right, but it had a very disreputable look to it, for all that it was a small one. It was a mangy old mutt, and it looked as if it should have fallen apart years ago.

"Woof?" it had said, and looked up at him with big puppy-dog eyes. "Give the doggie a biscuit, that's a good man."

"WHAT?"

"It was a, wossname, figgyment of yer imagination," said the dog. "Everyone knows that dogs can't talk."

"Then, logic would naturally dictate that you would know it as well," snapped Snape.

The dog looked up at him, surprised. "You know, yer a bit too smart for a human," it said. "It takes most people awhile to realize that I ain't exactly yer average mutt."

"That doesn't answer my question, mutt," he said. "Why are you speaking in something which—however vaguely it may be—resembles the Queen's English?"

"I ain't speakin' the 'Queen's English', whatever that is, mister. We ain't had a king or queen 'round here since Old Stoneface's time. You're speaking perfect Morporkian."

"Again, you have not answered my question. Who are you, and why are you talking to me?"

The dog sighed. "The name's Gaspode. As for why am I talking, well, one night I goes to a warm spot beside the University, see? Right next to the kitchens. Sometimes the cook, that's Mrs Whitlow, frows me some of the leftovers from the wizards' meals. There ain't many of those, but I gets food in lots of other places, too. Anyways, one night I finds meself a good, warm spot by the chimney and curls up. Next thing I know, it's abstract thinking, colour vision, and a mouf that, against all odds, can pronounce human language as well as canine. Too much magic bouncing around the place, see? Larst time this happened, I ended up savin' the Disc from these huge wossnames from the Dungeon Dimensions. I can hardly wait to find out what happens now," he said, spitting out the last sentence.

Snape looked critically at the dog. On one hand, it was totally illogical for a dog to be able to speak a human language. They didn't have the brains or the mouth for it. On the other hand, the impossible had clearly happened, due to magic. He decided to pretend that he was not hallucinating, and ask the dog another question. "You said you ended up saving the Disc," he said slowly. "Pray, tell me—what precisely is this 'Disc' of which you speak?"

The dog looked at him curiously. "Well, now, I fort you ain't from 'round here, but you ain't even heard of the Disc? Either you're from a longer way off 'n I fort, or you're really, really badly informed. That's the world we're on right now. It's a disc on the back of four huge elephants, which are carried on the back of a turtle called A'Tuin. And where d'you fink you're from?"

"I am from somewhere which makes rather more sense than this," Snape said, with a hint of his normal coldness.

"And where is that?" asked Gaspode.

Snape groaned as he realized that the wizarding world back home would sound just as ridiculous to Gaspode as the Discworld sounded to Snape himself. "Never mind," he said. "Do you think you could bring me to the University?"

"Why?" asked the dog. "You one of them wizardin' folk?"

"In a manner of speaking," said Snape, sighing.

"You sure you wanna go there?" asked Gaspode, looking up at him with a strangely bewildered look on his canine visage. "I've gotta warn you, it's full of nutters in there. Just las' week they was goin' crazy with this 'music with rocks in' business. The Dean made 'imself a big leather robe that had 'DEAN: BORN TO LIVE FATS DIE YO GNU' spelled on it in rivets! The Bursar's a nutcase and the Archchancellor shouts at everyone all the time and once he gets an idea into his head, it takes practically forever to get the fing back out again! Good Gods, man, you actually want to go into that pandemumoninumumum?"

"That what?"

"You know, pandemumoninumumum. Means 'all demons' in Latatian. Turmoil. Trouble. Lots and lots of problems all at once."

"You mean 'pandemonium'," Snape said. "Well, if the University isn't a suitable place for me, then where else do you think I could stay until I find a way to get off of this…Disc…and back to where I came from?"

Gaspode considered it. "Well, you're dressed all in black, so maybe the Assassins' Guild might take you in—"

Snape wheeled around and faced the dog with every sign of his infamous temper beginning to show. "Listen, you mangy little fleabag, that was not amusing. I'm lost here. I need a place to stay for the night. I'm a stranger. And you say that an appropriate place for me is a place where I would very likely get killed?" He paused, his face growing even angrier, if that were even possible. "Or is it that you think I have so few morals as to be able to pass for someone who kills for money?"

Gaspode quailed at the sight of the enraged Snape. "No, no, sir, no offence meant, really, just that they're an awfully, you know, suffis—phosyst—um, they're well-dressed, well-educated, and real high-class people, even if they does get paid for what they call 'inhuming' people."

Snape, barely pacified, snapped, "Well, I think I'm going to take my chances with the inept wizards. Show me the way to the University, Gaspode."

Gaspode padded along the road which would take them to Unseen University, grumbling all the way about ungrateful wizards.[1]

.....

The sky, already grey, had darkened further as Snape and Gaspode wandered the streets of Ankh-Morpork. Now, the clouds let loose their watery burden, and both man and dog were getting absolutely drenched. Gaspode, who hadn't smelled very nice in the first place, now began to positively reek. Snape would have made a sarcastic comment about this, but that would have necessitated the opening of his mouth and tasting the foul odour.

So this is UnseenUniversity, he mused as he and Gaspode approached the huge door to the Great Hall. The University certainly looked impressive enough, even if the wizards here were idiots. They can't possibly be as bad as Lockhart, he thought. Still, he wasn't looking forward to meeting them. As he well knew, there was nothing worse than an enthusiastic idiot.

"Et maintenant, le deluge," he murmured. Several portly figures came down the staircase, and he wondered snidely how most of them had managed to get up the staircases in the first place. All of them were as badly-dressed as Lockhart at a party, and almost all of them were so round that they could likely have just as easily rolled down the stairs as walked down them. The one at the front had an especially offensive hat, being covered with such apparatus as even Severus had never seen before.

"Bur-SAAR!" he shouted, and the one wizard who you could likely lose sight of if you tried to look at him from the side rushed to the front of the group. "Foot the camel and eat the spoon. Blivet?"

The first wizard sighed. "I'm going to take that as a 'Yes, Archchancellor?', Bursar. Now, I want you to look very carefully at this man. Have you ever seen him before?"

"Whoops, there goes the butter."

"Dean? Could you distinguish any sort of meaning whatsoever from what the Bursar has just said?"

"No, Archchancellor," said the fattest member of the group, a rather elderly man with an especially tasteless hat.

The Archchancellor sighed. "Better give him some dried frog pills, then," he said. "Where's Stibbons when you need him? I say, what are you doing here, anyway?" he asked, turning to Snape.

"I'm a wizard," said Snape, aware of how silly this sounded, especially given his odd surroundings. "I'm rather lost, and I need a place to stay for the night. Hearing that there is a rather fine university for wizards around here—" and here Gaspode started to snigger—"I thought that you might be willing to help a colleague who is in trouble."

The Archchancellor looked closely at him. "You don't look much like one of us," he said. "No colour to your robes, no pointy wizard's hat, no staff, and scrawny as the Bursar here. And you claim to be a wizard?"

"I was not aware that these things were required of a wizard," said Snape coolly. "If you like, I could transform one of you into a bat as proof. It appears that all of you are rather batty anyway."

"Oook!"

"What the hell was that?"

A rather large orang-utan muscled its way to the front of the group. "Oook! Ook ook ooka ooka ook eek!" it said.

"Er, I think he said, 'welcome to Unseen University. If you try to turn me back into a human, I'll rip your arms off.' Of course, I could be wrong," said the Archchancellor, as he noticed the strange expression coming over Snape's face. He could be rather thick at times, but even he realized that this strange man was nobody to trifle with. "By the way, I'm Mustrum Ridcully, the Archchancellor of this fine institution. This here's the Dean, that's the Senior Wrangler—don't ask, it's a long story—and this is the Lecturer in Recent Runes. You've already encountered the Bursar; he'll be all right as soon as the dried frog pills kick in. Poor fellow has some sort of nervous complaint. I can't imagine why. Probably spends too much time in that office of his—that's why I shout at him and play practical jokes and the like. Keeps his head from fogging up. Anyway, usually we've got another man about here, the Reader in Invisible Writings—name's Ponder Stibbons. Right now, though, he's up in Lancre checking out the stone circle and stuff. Oh, and the orang-utan is the Librarian. If you know what's good for you, you'll never mention the m-word in front of him."

"What 'm-word'?"

Ridcully groaned. "Don't ask. It has something to do with other creatures of a simian nature. And don't you ever, ever, ever say it in front of him."

Snape, rather wisely, let the matter drop. "My name is Snape," he said. "Severus Snape. Most people just call me Snape."

Ridcully nodded. "Ah, friendly chap, are you? Like to keep people at their ease?"

"Not precisely, Archchancellor," he said. "However, it is nearly the name by which I am best known, and I would appreciate it if you would address me as such."

"Nearly the name?" asked Ridcully, confused.

"I believe that among my students I am better known as 'That Greasy Git', but I would much prefer that you simply call me 'Snape'."

"Ah. Well, Snape, let's see what we can do for you—and your dog, of course—for supper. That is a dog, isn't it?"

"Of course it's a dog! However, he is not mine. He…followed me here," said Snape, as Gaspode gave Ridcully a disgusted look.

"Ah, all right, then. We'll get him a decent meal, and then find a room somewhere for you."

"That would be much appreciated, Archchancellor," said Snape, trying to be calm. It wasn't easy. Ridcully was beginning to get on his nerves already, and he had known the man for all of five minutes. "But won't an extra place at the table be an inconvenience to you?"

"No, not at all," said Ridcully, with a genial expression on his face. "There's always plenty served at the Unseen University table. You'll not go hungry here."

Oh, yes, I might— if we don't get going soon.

The wizards made their way to the dining hall, and Snape trailed behind them, black robes billowing slightly. The effect was rather spoiled by the fact that they were still damp from being rained on.

Behind him, Gaspode snickered.

[1] Very quietly, though, so the ungrateful wizard behind him wouldn't hear.

.....

A/N: Well, how's this so far? I haven't quite got Pratchett's style down, but I hope that some of the humour at least managed to make up for some of that.

Anyway, the title of the chapter is the name of a song by Billie Myers. I just thought that it went well with the content. You know, "Where am I?" and all that.

Whatever.

For those not well-versed in the Discworld books, the red-haired guard who attempts to call Snape by name is Carrot Ironfoundersson, the Ankh-Morpork City Watch's most dedicated (and naïve) policeman. The sausage vendor is Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler, who sells sausages and meat pies made of "genuine pork product" and occasionally gets into a business venture that goes belly-up through no fault of his own.

"Old Stoneface" Vimes, another Pratchett creation, is an ancestor of Sam Vimes, the Commander of the Ankh-Morpork City Watch. He executed the last king of Ankh-Morpork.

The bit about "Music With Rocks In" refers to Pratchett's "Soul Music".

Yes, the Bursar really is that insane. Worse, in fact.

Finally, a couple of non-Discworld references. First of all, as I learned in a class on literature in Renaissance England, "pandemonium" literally means "all demons" in Latin.

Also, there's "As he well knew, there was nothing worse than an enthusiastic idiot". This is a paraphrase of something said in my OAC English class three years ago. (OAC is the now-defunct fifth year of high school that Ontario used to have until it was phased out in a process that ended last year.) The teacher, called Mrs. Mantha-McConnell, was talking to one of my classmates before the class of the day was supposed to begin, and as a reply to a remark made by the student, she said "There's nothing worse than an enthusiastic idiot". I don't know why, but that phrase has stayed with me, and it kind of just happened on the screen when I had Snape thinking about what was likely to happen at Unseen University.