Disclaimer: Who in their right mind would confuse me for Terry Pratchett or J.K. Rowling?

Chapter 4

Up An' Adam

It was evening now in Ankh-Morpork, and naturally the University was busy. It always was around suppertime. Snape felt a pang of homesickness when he realized that the heavy table at Unseen University reminded him very much of the banquets at Hogwarts.

He sighed. There had to be some way to get back. After all, that idiot Lockhart had sent him here, hadn't he?

Well, sort of, anyway.

Across the table, Ridcully looked curiously over at the strange wizard. "You haven't told us much about yourself, Snape. What exactly do you do?" he asked.

Snape smirked. "I teach Potions to young witches and wizards, and quite frankly, almost all of them are idiots. However, I do have a favourite speech that I recite every year when I start with the first-year students."

"Capital! Lowercase!"

Ridcully groaned. "Is there anyone about who could interpret for me, gentlemen?"

"I believe that he asked Snape to recite the speech," said the Dean.

Snape smirked again. "Why, certainly," he said, and drew his black robes about him as he stood and prepared to recite his speech. His face grew more forbidding, if that were even possible, and his voice grew colder and harsher. He swept up to the front of the room as if he thought he were a bat.

"As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses ... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death — if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

"Well done! Er…but doesn't it scare the students?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "Of course it does! That's the bloody point! What do you think I should say? 'Well, sure, I could teach you to bottle fame, brew glory, and stopper death—but wouldn't you rather learn how to brew beer instead?'"

"Well, the idea has its—ouch!" exclaimed the Lecturer in Recent Runes as the Dean indelicately elbowed him in the ribs.

"Wouldn't it be easy to stopper death, anyway?" asked Ridcully. "I mean, all you'd have to do is get some poison, and Bob's your uncle."

Snape glared at him. "First of all, poisons generally have antidotes. Deadly potions, on the other hand, work almost instantaneously. Second, I have no uncles at all, much less an uncle named 'Bob'. Both of my parents were only children."

"Only children?" said the Dean. "How could they—OW, BUGGRIT!" he exclaimed, as the Lecturer in Recent Runes elbowed him in the ribs and stomped heavily on his foot as only an Unseen University wizard can—partly in retaliation, it must be said, for the earlier elbowing.

"I meant that neither of them had any siblings," Snape snapped.

"Oh," said the Dean, rubbing his side gingerly. "You might have said."

. . . . . . . . .

The next day, Snape wandered down into the Great Hall, only to find that breakfast had not yet been set out. I never realized how inconvenient things can be without house elves, he thought, slightly annoyed. Right now I might even settle for that jabbering Dobby of Lucius', as irritating as he is.

Grumbling slightly about the lack of food—he could be even nastier than usual, if that were even possible, on an empty stomach—he decided to find the library. They had a Librarian, after all; they had to have a library, right? Even a university full of what he considered to be hopeless incompetents had to have a decent library; otherwise, there would be no use in calling it a university. It would just be a collection of buildings.

The biggest problem was that here, logic had clearly taken a very long holiday.

"You goin' somewhere, Snape?" asked Gaspode, trotting up to him as he left the main building.

"The library," he growled in return. "Haven't you got a cat to be chasing, or something of the sort?"

Gaspode was about to give a retort, but seeing the look on the man's face, he bit it back. "Er, yes," he said. "I'll be seeing you later, then."

Snape smirked as he saw the dog padding off in the other direction. Then, he scowled. It's a sad day when I'm proud of scaring off a dog! he thought.

Pushing through the library doors, he was immediately met with the sight of the Librarian re-shelving some books left lying around by some careless students. Immediately, the Librarian said, "OOOK! Ook eek ook!" and pointed to a sign.

"For goodness' sake, I don't understand monkey talk," said Snape, disgustedly.

The effect was instantaneous. The Librarian bared his teeth and launched himself at Snape, attempting to bang his head against the somewhat worn definitions of "Monkey" and "Orang-utan" on the desk.

However, Snape was too quick for him. He whipped out his wand, pointed it at the Librarian, and shouted "Immobilis!" The enraged Librarian was stopped in his tracks.

And just to make his point, Snape muttered "Homo sapiens", changing the ape into a man.

"Don't call me a monkey!" shouted the Librarian, unaware that this was the first time in years that he had spoken any word except assorted ooks and eeks.

"I will not, now, as the word is particularly inappropriate at this moment," was Snape's cool reply.

"You can understand me?" asked the Librarian, uncertainly. Something had gone very wrong.

"Of course I can, you dolt. Take a good look at yourself."

The Librarian looked down. Pear-shaped body, sure, but his toes were too short, and—

"AAAUGH!" He had no hair! The bastard had returned him to his original form!

When the Librarian had finally calmed down, he realized something very important.

"Er, Snape, do you think you could possibly hand me my bathrobe? It's on the desk there." The Librarian's voice was unnaturally quiet.

Smirking, Snape replied, "I'm afraid not, old boy. However, I can turn you back into an orang-utan."

"Will you, then? I think you've made your point, and I have work to do. But how did you do that without knowing my name?"

"It is not necessary with the kind of magic that I use."

"Ah, I see. But are you absolutely certain that you can change me back?"

"Of course I can," growled Snape. "I'm a Potions teacher. Many of the potions which I am required to teach to those knuckleheaded students of mine are quite poisonous if not brewed correctly, and I often have to have them test their work. Therefore, I keep a large number of antidotes ready—and I always make certain that I have done nothing that cannot be undone."

"Er, yes, of course," said the Librarian, drawing back a bit. "Um, do you think you could do it now, then? I'm a very busy ape."

"Certainly," said Snape, and with a muttered PongoPygmaeus, the Librarian was back in his usual state.

"Ook," he said contentedly, and returned to his work.

. . . . . . . . .

After the scene in the Library, Snape decided that his time would be better spent in walking around Ankh-Morpork to get a feeling for the geography. Snape had many faults, but one of the more useful ones was that he was somewhat paranoid. He hated being in a new city without knowing its nooks and crannies, all the places where one of the Dark Lord's minions could surprise him. He had carefully cultivated a friendship with Lucius Malfoy, which had been an advantage even in his days as a dedicated Death Eater, and he kept up his image as a frightening, hateful downright bastard in case Voldemort rose again. He would never admit it to anyone, even Geillis, but he sometimes wondered what it was like to wear colours other than black and grey. Perhaps a nice robe of green and silver, good old Slytherin colours…

He shook his head. Not while the Dark Lord still existed, even in his weakened form. The slightest deviation from his normal behaviour would attract suspicion.

"Oi! Snape! Didn't expect to see you up and about so early."

Snape muttered something rude under his breath. Then, "Good morning, Archchancellor." His tone made it clear that he wasn't precisely sure what a good morning was supposed to be, but that it did not include being shouted at by wizards dressed in what looked suspiciously like a track suit.

"'Morning, Snape. Please call me 'Mustrum', by the way. I suppose you're going down to the Hall for an early breakfast? I always do, and I'm out for a jog just after."

"Ah, yes. That would explain those rather odd robes you're wearing. But no, actually I'm off for a bit of a walk around the city; I'm afraid that I didn't get to see very much of it yesterday, being weary and hungry and all of those normal traveller things."

"Oh, good show! Mind you stay away from the Assassins' Guild, though. They're a bit ornery."

"I suppose I should fit right in if I felt the need to enter," Snape retorted.

Ridcully decided that it would be best not to comment. Instead, he and Snape walked in silence down to the Great Hall. On the way, they met a rather peculiar figure.

It was barely recognizable as being a man. However, it wasn't a mon—an orang-utan, and it was wearing a tattered red robe and a hat which boasted tarnished sequins. Here and there, one or two gave a half-hearted glitter as a remembrance of past glories. The hat had "Wizzard" embroidered on it by someone whose incompetence in spelling was only surpassed by his lack of skill with a needle.

"Who the hell are you?" asked Snape.

The man looked as if he were going to answer—and then, he saw who had asked him the question. He looked up, screamed, and ran away.

"Well, Snape, that was certainly an interesting reaction, eh?" said Ridcully.

"Not exactly," smirked Snape. "I used to get it all the time from one of my students, by the name of Neville Longbottom."

"You must've been a hell of a teacher," Ridcully gulped.

"Indeed, Mustrum, indeed—with extra emphasis on the word 'hell'." He paused. "Who was that 'wizzard', anyway? And why does he think he has to write 'wizard' on his hat with two z's?"

"Oh, that was Rincewind. Nobody around here knows his first name, or if he even has one. He's our Egregious Professor of Cruel and Unusual Geography. When the last one was apparently eaten by a large lizard, we thought that Rincewind would be a good replacement, since he's seen so much geography. Admittedly, he's seen it mostly as a blur, since as you've seen he runs very well, but he's seen it anyway."

"And the misspelling of 'wizard'?"

"Well, he never technically graduated from the University. He only knows one spell, and he can't use that one as it was one of the Eight Great Spells used in the creation of this world. Filled up his brain so there's no room for any more. We let him wear the hat, but he feels that he has to write 'wizzard' on it just to get his point across, pardon the pun—the two z's are just because he can't spell."

Snape nodded. "Ah, I see. He's a squib, then. I've seen a few in my time."

"Squid? Gods, no—he hasn't got any tentacles, and I'm damn sure he doesn't squirt ink at you anytime he's afraid."

Snape actually chuckled at that. "No, Mustrum, a squib is someone with no magical ability whatsoever. You find them sometimes in wizarding families back home. Well, I'll be off, now."

"Enjoy your walk, Snape."

. . . . . . . . .

A/N: Sorry about the long wait for an update; this chapter was originally much longer, but I decided that the details of Snape's walk would be better left until the next chapter for various reasons. (Namely, (1) I think I might have overdone it with the silliness, so the walk needed some Major Editing, and (2) Ridcully's "Enjoy your walk, Snape" seemed to be a better place to leave off anyway.)

"Up An' Adam" is the name of one of my all-time favourite bagpipe tunes. It was written by Murray Blair, and perhaps its most famous recording was on the Victoria Police Pipe Band's album "Masterblasters". A MIDI file of it can be found at http:www. bagpipesatbest. com, under "U". It's the eighth one down.

I'm sure I don't have to explain the source of Snape's speech. Let's just say that it's one of my favourite Snape-related moments in "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone", since it goes from something like poetry to a somewhat inelegant insult—or as one of my teachers likes to say, "from the sublime to the ridiculous".

I should also point out that the "brew beer instead" bit comes from the "Snape Wouldn't Say" section of "Snape's Chambers" (http:www. snapechamber. freeservers. com/), and was contributed by "The Empress of Commas—Lisa Ann". The original form is "Well, sure. I could teach you how to stopper death. But wouldn't you rather learn how to brew beer instead?"

From my understanding of the Librarian, he really would react that way to being called a monkey.

Yes, I'm lazy. Snape's incantations for the transformation of the Librarian from an orang-utan to a human and back again are just the Latin names of the species in question. To the best of my knowledge, Rowling never gives any indication of how a witch or wizard would go about transforming a human into an animal (or the other way around, for that matter), though she does indicate that it's possible; in one of the books—I can't remember which one—Harry hears Professor McGonagall chewing out another student for turning someone into a badger.

As an additional note to the Librarian's transformation—Pratchett states that he was originally a human, but as a result of a magical accident he was changed into an orang-utan and has resisted any attempts to change him back.

The bit with Rincewind was actually one of the first scenes that I wrote when I began the story. There are several other of these "random scenes" scattered throughout the story, put in whatever place they seemed to best fit. Depending on whether or not I feel like it, I may point the others out. Originally Rincewind exited the scene by means of a blackout, but I decided that running away would probably be more believable. He hasn't survived everything that's been thrown at him by fainting, after all. In addition, the original end of the scene was Snape smirking and saying that thing about "extra emphasis on the word 'hell'".