Summary: Severus Snape has an accident in the potions classroom right before classes start in Harry Potter's sixth year, and an unfortunate house elf is hit. Thankfully, Severus is okay…but…the house elf has a predicament. It's soul is residing inside of a patch of mold, and someone else's soul is residing in her body. Not a typical self-insertion, NOT a Mary-Sue. Please R&R!!!
To say Professor Severus Snape was angry was a complete and utter understatement. Only an idiot would cheerfully address the livid man who stalked through the halls of Hogwarts with the disposition of a bloodthirsty bat. He gave the impression that he wasn't quite cheerful this morning, to say the least. Professor Flitwick shuffled past, giving Severus a wide berth and the former professor scuttled away fearfully, glancing over his shoulder with eyes as wide as saucers. And one would think he'd be used to it.
Severus barged into the staff room, slamming the doors open with a pompous air not to be ignored. Striding in, he let his onyx eyes sweep the room in one quick glance. All the professors were drinking tea (and coffee), preparing themselves for the night to come. Professor Minerva McGonagall looked sad, as if she were awaiting horrid news about someone's death. Professor Susan Sprout was sipping her tea and looking blankly at nothing. Or she found the crack on the wall an intellectual challenge that could not be ignored. Assorted other professors were still asleep, as they were not preparing for new students arriving into their houses.
Storming to the counter with ever-full coffee pots and teapots and ever-overflowing biscuit trays, Severus grabbed a large black mug and poured liberal amounts of the black, caffeinated liquid into it. Obviously, Severus Snape, the black-bat-who-resides-in-the-dungeons, enjoyed things black. Especially his coffee, which he downed; the coffee mug was charmed to make his coffee the correct temperature, which came in handy awfully often since the other professors had given the order for all coffee and tea to be scalding hot. Severus was not that kind of a person. He was a patient man, of course, but there was no time for waiting for the tea to cool! Caffeine now. He. Must. Have. Caffeine.
Only the Slytherins were aware of his caffeine dependency, and a few of the professors. The 'striding-through-the-school-like-a-bloodthirsty-bat-awake-at-ungodly-hours' occurrence only happened in ungodly hours in the morning, and any student stupid enough to wake up at five in the morning and storm through the school (actual breakfast was gradually lain out at six, all food laid out at exactly seven o'clock) was obviously completely unaware of the unspoken rule: 'The school belongs to the professors all the time, but even more so before the hour of six AM and after the hour of ten PM.'
Today was September first, and all the children would be arriving soon, young and old, to torture-no, learn, from the professors. Severus felt his mood darken considerably with that thought. The absolute last thing he needed was some idiot child to be sorted into his house, and thus become his to take care of and keep happy. Happy. He scoffed, then remembered that he was drinking coffee and choked. He winced, realizing some of the liquid had made a leap up his hooked nose. Snarling, in severe discomfort, the now more livid professor stormed out of the staff room after re-filling his mug. It was going to be a long day.
Severus stirred the potion smoothly, glaring into it's murky depths. Why him. Why. Him. His personal pity parties always happened after something bad happened, whether it was a year ago or ten seconds ago. In this case, it was twelve years ago when he first agreed to teach potions. What sort of idiot was he, accepting that job? All it had done for him was give him eternal misery.
Why, ever since Harry Potter came to school his life became so much more complicated and Severus was still wondering if all the misery was necessary! In his first year, Potter had managed to screw up the evidence and come up with a completely juvenile theory; that he was after the Philosopher's Stone. Him? Severus Snape? Why, as a young boy he wanted to die young since he considered getting old a chore. He felt his lip curl. He was foolish, then.
In Potter's second year he managed to kill a basilisk, destroy Tom Riddle and his diary, completely erase Lockhart's memory and as such rendering him stupider than usual and in St. Mungo's, and free the Malfoy's house elf. Such a thing should have been considered impossible, but it was possible, and it peeved Severus to no end.
For a few weeks after school let out, Severus had been sure that things would be back to normal. But then Sirius Black, his school nemesis (one of them, really), escaped from Azkaban and decided to hunt Harry Potter down and kill him. Of course, Harry stopped this from happening and unearthed the truth; Sirius Black was innocent and Peter Pettigrew was alive and guilty. Again, Severus was peeved. He couldn't hate Black properly now, now that he wasn't working for Voldemort. He was tempted to go cross-eyed and stick his tongue out at imaginary Black, but he didn't. He just continued reminiscing.
In the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Make-Severus-Snape's-Life-Miserable's fourth year, he had amazingly become the fourth contender in the Tri-Wizard tournament (note: Tri means three), won it, helped bring Voldemort back to life no matter how unwilling the boy was, and then manage to escape the Dark Lord and bring back the dead body of Cedric Diggory. Now the Dark Lord was back everyone was uptight and jumpy, even Severus since he had to go back to playing double agent. Not a pleasant job.
Then fifth year (When would he just go away?!) Harry managed to create a Defense Association behind the High Inquisitor's back (remind you of the Spanish Inquisition, anyone?), get roped into believing his Godfather, Black, was in trouble, and then sneak into the Ministry of Magic's Department of Mysteries and live to tell the tale. And not only did he sneak in, he snuck away from ten or more Death Eaters and confirmed to the idiotic Ministry that Voldemort was back and there was nothing they could do about it. The next death the Boy-Who-Lived witnessed was his Godfather's. Severus could only feel a little sad.
Obviously, this boy had managed to turn every single school year into a mess involving some murderer or another. The Aurors had rescued Potter from his abusive relatives after a week of him being there. Obviously, they were livid about Dudley from the previous year and overworked and underfed him. "He was practically a skeleton, Severus!" shrieked Molly Weasley, when Severus refused to show sympathy. Potter was still in shock and depressed about Sirius' death, and Severus heard the boy sobbing randomly during the night, or screaming from nightmares. He had started to make his reports during the day, so he didn't have to hear it.
Suddenly, the Dark Mark on his left forearm seared uncomfortably. Severus grunted, accidentally knocking a vial of something powdery into the potion. He didn't notice, and he walked up the stairs to the second floor balcony. Grabbing his Nimbus-2000 from where it rested on the wall, he took off from the balcony and flew out of the Apparition wards. The burning was becoming stronger, and he barely held back a snarl of pain.
He arrived at the boundary. Placing his broom on the ground Severus took three steps forward, clutching his arm, and Apparated. He appeared to the left of a masked Death Eater. Voldemort had specifically asked Severus not to wear a mask so Big Bad could better read his facial expressions (tough luck). Sneering, Severus lifted his hooked nose a bit and looked down at the newer Death Eaters. They were masked; some of the more experienced ones were not, as it was old news that they were Death Eaters. Voldemort was sitting in an onyx throne, and his gray scaly skin shimmered in the candlelight. Ruby-red snake eyes glared at everyone in the room.
"Lucius. Come forth."
Lucius did. 'Brown noser,' thought Severus. "My Lord," said Lucius, bowing reverently and kissing the hem of Voldemort's robes. The owner of the robes smirked a bit, then said in a high, breathy voice that reminded Severus of a Muggle actress…what was her name…Mary Monloe? Marilin? Onerow? Whatever.
"Severus. Come forth."
Severus coaxed his face into an impassionate mask. He strode forward without flinching, meeting Voldemort's eyes briefly, then going to one knee and lightly touching his lips to the Dark Lord's expensive emerald-green velvet robes. He got up, and stood next to Lucius. "My Lord," he said, keeping his eyes trained on the arm of Voldemort's throne.
"Lucius. How is the recruiting coming?"
Lucius grinned widely, and said confidently "We'll have twenty before the end of September. Draco is very influential when he wants to be."
The Dark Lord looked pleased, but you could never be sure. "Good, good. Severus. I need you to brew me a potion with Potter's blood. He's gotten stronger at Occlumency, and it's making me angry. Perhaps another dose of his blood will strengthen our connection?"
Severus nodded, looking up at the Dark Lord's face. "It will take two months to brew."
Voldemort shrugged. "As long as it's ready before December. December is my unlucky month."
Severus didn't question him. Sometimes, he thought that Voldemort was more loony than their own loopy Headmaster.
"Severus, you may leave. It is late, and you have only one hour to prepare for your students." The entire sentence was said so condescendingly Severus figured if it were any more so he'd turn into a three-year-old right then and there. Bowing, Severus said softly "Yes, My Lord."
With a hand wave of dismissal, Voldemort turned back to Lucius and said quietly, "We will have enough for the attack in January?"
Lucius nodded. "We will. More than enough, My Lord."
Severus Disapparated.
He flew (on the Nimbus, you idiots) inside of his office just in time to see his potion flash blindingly and explode. Habitually, Severus created a shield around himself. Obviously, the house elf cleaning the desks wasn't so lucky as it screamed and collapsed. As soon as the explosion was done, bright white fluid coated the walls thickly, smelling strongly of petrol. Severus conjured up a vial and enclosed some of the potion in it. It would do his mind good for him to figure out what he had brewed.
Stepping through the white goop, he tapped the prone house elf on the shoulder. It was out cold. "Scourgio." The room was clean, and Severus turned back to the house elf. "Ennervate."
The house elf opened her eyes (at least Severus thought it was a she) and green cat eyes blinked up at Severus before she opened her mouth to scream loudly and shrilly. It was a girl, all right.
Severus covered her mouth and said softly, frown on his face, "What are you screaming about?" He wasn't in the mood to deal with hormonal house elves!!!
"Who are you?"
He blinked. "Severus Snape, you stupid elf!"
She wrinkled a pointed nose at him, narrowing her eyes and sneering. This was not typical house elf behavior. "Severus Snape? You've got to be kidding me. He's a character from a book! And I'm not stupid, and I am most certainly NOT an elf!"
Severus stood.
"Why am I so short?"
He rolled his eyes. "You're a house elf, you idiot. Did you hit your head?"
She blinked, and turned a surprisingly human face toward Severus. "What do you mean I'm an-" She caught sight of her surroundings. "Oh. My. God."
Her eyes rolled up into her head, and she fainted. Groaning, Severus hefted the again-prone elf into his arms and set off down the corridor. Why him?
A/N: Harro. I have come from a long and lengthy break from the fanfiction world, and am now back and much more experienced. I took high-school literary classes, and I figure I'm an average writer now. I might still stink, but anyway. I'm holding off my Lord of the Rings fics (See my bio) until I get the extended versions for Christmas, which will inspire me considerably. Thank you if you read this, and thank you bunches and lots if you review.
See that lil lavender button? Yeah, down there, in the bottom left corner. Press it. You know you want to. puppy dog eyes PLEASE?!