The New Potionsmaster

Professor Minerva McGonagall considered herself professional. And as such, you sometimes had to remain in your office a few hours longer than planned, no matter how much you might have liked to go to your private chambers and have a little floo-chat with your best friend, or go down to the greenhouses to see Mandragora Sprout for a chat.

Tonight, however, was the night of Severus Snape's detention and she knew she would have to convey to him, once and for all, that he could not continue playing truant whenever he felt like staying in his dormitory instead of attending his classes. He had not only been known to skive off Flying, after all. Several of her colleagues had complained, during the last staff meeting, that Snape was absent in their lessons on a regular basis. And in an increasing manner. Why exactly Stochastica Vector, being Head of Slytherin after all, seemed incapable of putting a stop to this and had to ask the Deputy Headmistress to do her job escaped the latter's imagination. A simple conversation would do, she thought, and informing young Snape of the consequences of his actions.

Minerva sighed. On top of all the timetable problems this year, as well as a heap of family problems that needed attention almost as urgently as all her school work put together, and her double burden of having to teach Potions and Transfiguration until the new teacher arrived the last thing she needed now was a student out of control and the consequential measures that had to be taken in such a case. Indeed, Minerva McGonagall was almost ready to admit that, at present, she was doing more than was actually healthy for a witch in her fifties.

They said women around her age were going through rough years, moving from the wild years of a youngster (as far as the wizarding folk was concerned, at least) to the more mature status of a middle-aged woman with all the responsibility coming with it. The latter of which Minerva considered by no means a new element in her life. On the contrary. Having been a teacher for fifteen years now, the deputy headmistress was proud to say that if there was something she took pride of knowing, it was responsibility. In fact, you could not be a teacher if you did not have your life under control - in addition to that of others.

Minerva thrust a few essays in one of her many drawers and decided to have a look at them when she had more time again and a clear head.

They said women approaching the end of their youthful years got rather children-like again sometimes, having all sorts of strange ideas - and emotions, for that matter. They were irascible and often out of control. They said. Men said. Who wrote the majority of the bloody books on mid-life crisis? Men did, didn't they? Also, Minerva assumed that the authors of Women's First Five Decades Completion and similar works were confusing Muggle women's midlife-crisis (which happened around this age, often even earlier) with the maturing time of the average witch. Annoyingly, as the same development could be observed with wizards of the same age without anyone complaining.

Another heap of essays vanished inside the drawer, along with her favourite quill and the rest of her green ink. She shut the last drawer with a bang and looked up. Tensely, thoughtfully.

All the work in the world could not get onto her if she kept a clear head to put all of it in order, deciding what to do first and what to do later. With the ongoing Pureblood discussion, however, which threatened to tear her family apart (and herself, in times), Minerva realised that she could not for a minute concentrate properly during lessons, staff meetings, and when trying to sort out her everyday duties. Among them, reporting to the headmaster if anything was going wrong.

She should have talked to him about the new threat raising from amongst the wizarding world's midst. She should have talked to him about - what had been his name... Rudolphus Lestrange's unusual remark and what it had caused among the McGillivrays...

She also should have been talking to Topaz again, asking him about the increasing amount of giant attacks lately. Enquiring his opinion on the matter. He was a medical expert, after all. Maybe there was still time to... She eyed her office's fireplace and bit her lip. No. Young Snape had to arrive any minute, and she did not want him to step into a conversation with her ex-husband.

A feeble knock on the door confirmed her expectations and she settled down on her desk quickly, setting up her most convincingly displeased teacher's expression, which, as she knew, made her look exactly like her mother in younger years.

'Ay-yes?' she corrected herself quickly, thinking that she had to make a serious impression on the boy if she wanted to get anywhere with him. 'Come in!'

The door opened slowly and Severus Snape squeezed himself through its gap, staying close to the wall with his back almost pressing against it while shutting the door as quietly as he had opened it. He seemed very tense, watching her through his big, black eyes, looking very much like a puppy that was leaving its basket for the first time in his life, not knowing what to expect from the world outside.

Minerva motioned him to sit down in front of her desk and he did so, not without pulling the chair just a bit further away from her reach. She suddenly wondered whether he was merely fishing for attention again, or actually afraid of what she might consider an adequate punishment for his actions. The staff had a lot of control over the students' lives, and one sometimes forgot just how intimidating this situation might be on a less confident child.

'You have been playing truant,' she said slowly, very conscious of her speech and posture, careful not to slip even once. 'Repeatedly. You have not attended a single flying lesson since the start of term. Which, if I calculate correctly, gives us four lessons, including a further attempt this afternoon. Do you have anything tae say to that?'

Snape, who had been mouthing 'four', apparently subconsciously, as soon as she had mentioned it, stopped and held his breath. After a while of just staring at her, he gulped, lowered his head and shook it.

'No, Professor.'

Minerva crossed her arms, leaned back in her chair and sighed impatiently.

'Mr Snape, the situation cannot continue. I find you are not adapting to school life properly this year. First your constant refusal to do your homework, then I find out that you are repeatedly skiving off lessons, which,' she bent slightly forward, 'you cannot really afford missing.'

Snape did not move.

'Do you want me to write another letter to your parents?' said Minerva sternly. 'I would prefer not to,' (Mr. Snape senior and his wife had not reacted to a single owl she had sent them this year, and she suspected that they were ignoring them, as Slytherin parents tended to.) 'but I shall, if you cannot convince me that things are going to change for the better.'

Snape still did not move.

'Another option,' Minerva continued, feeling a light frown appear at her face, 'would be to suspend you for... say... the amount of two weeks. But I daresay there is no sense in suspending truants, so I won't.'

This time, the horror on Snape's face, followed by an instant, total relief was clearly visible. He remained sound- and motionless, however, and continued to look at her, as if waiting for something.

'He is waiting for me to name his punishment,' thought Minerva suddenly. 'Nothing more. He is not even going to try and defend himself.' She made an awkward pause, surveying Snape closely through her square spectacles, finding his behaviour not only remarkable now, but slightly worrying.

'Talk tae me,' she finally demanded, dropping whatever course she had been planning to take. 'Mr. Snape. Look at me and tell me why ye willnae even try and stick to the school rules!'

A pair of puzzled black eyes met hers, widening slightly at this last sentence.

'I have been keeping them,' said Snape quickly. 'I... I mean I would have, but...'

He fell silent again.

Minerva felt herself getting impatient and got up, rounding the table and positioning herself in front of the small Slytherin boy, who shrank back on cue, watching her like a rabbit would be watching a dog - or a hunter.

'You'll do lines,' she said crossly, tapping his chest with one, lengthy finger. 'I'll let ye get off with lines again. But I expect to not catch you in the corridors again, and I expect you to make an effort of getting all your work done in due time. I shall be having an eye on whether you are making an effort, is that understood?'

Snape nodded quickly, having gone surprisingly white in the face.

'Yes, Professor,' he whispered. 'I'll... try and keep out of trouble!'

Minerva was not sure what to make of this behaviour. On the one hand, Snape seemed mortally afraid whenever he was sitting on this chair in her office, promising to do better in future, on the other hand she had seen too many clever students putting up exactly this behaviour to avoid detention, suspension, or even a well-deserved thrashing, to still be fooled by it.

'No,' she said finally, resolving to make sure he understood her. 'You won't be trying. You will succeed. Or you'll be in trouble - with me!'

Snape's face lost what colour was left on it and he nodded again hastily.

'Yes, miss,' he whispered, seemingly at a loss what else to say.

'Guid,' said Minerva. 'You have time till tomorrow. Two feet of 'No more skiving'. Off wi ye noo! I willnae waste my evening on you.'

Snape jumped up instantly and left her office, almost in a run, though he was careful to open and close the door as soundlessly as before. Minerva wondered for a second, whether she found this unusual or not. (He was a Slytherin, after all. And the son of probably the noisiest person she had ever met.) She decided, however, that it was time now for a break from work, even though, ironically, the worst part of the day lay still in front of her.

A certain person had applied for the position of the Potions teacher and she had to convince Albus Dumbledore that, despite their difficulties of finding anyone at all, despite the impossibility of her doing both subjects for a whole year, and despite his apparent suitability, that her uncle Angus was the last person she would entrust with teaching a horde of students of whatever age - for a whole year.


On Friday evening of the same week, half the Hogwarts staff found themselves sitting in The Three Broomsticks once again, discussing more or less important matters of the daily school life and, not surprisingly, also political subjects, some of them concerning the appointment of Governor Fumes as the new Minister for Educational Affairs.

Mandy knew that if she got Minerva McGonagall going (over a pint or two) the Deputy Headmistress would tell her about everything that was going on in- and outside of school, but she was surprised to find that her friend had apparently taken the evening off and locked herself into her private chambers with a history book in one, a tartan teapot in the other hand. Stochastica had seen her shout at a student shortly beforehand and seemed slightly worried about Minerva's general state of mind. Mandy, however, knowing that this had to be one of her friend's strange moods, managed to calm the Head of Slytherin just a little bit and managed to engage her into a conversation about politics, politicians, and wizards in general.

'You know,' said Stochastica without much enthusiasm, even after the third round of butterbeer, 'it seems to me that our kind are going mad over the whole matter. If not even old McGillivray can seem to decide whom to support - which position are we to take then? And we cannot trust anyone to keep quiet about certain matters either, can we? I mean... I mean, few people actually leap into action, of course. Most of them just meet for large dinner parties during the Easter holidays or on Christmas Eve and complain about the objectionable circumstances of Muggleborns being taught alongside Purebloods these days. But they're never actually seen doing anything against it.'

Mandy was confused.

'Is that what you think? That one should do something against Muggleborns being taught at Hogwarts?' she said disbelievingly. 'Surely you don't think so. Surely you know how much more dangerous it is to have them run around loosely in their world, with all that uncontrolled magic about them?'

Stochastica did not reply. She was busy refilling her glass, but Mandy could see that she was also simply disinclined to discuss this matter. Instead, she tried to change the subject. Abruptly, without much effort.

'You spoken to Minerva about the four rule-breakers yet?'

Mandy looked up, half irritated, half surprised. 'No. How am I supposed to speak to someone who is constantly working or arguing with wavering family members?' She grinned at her own pun. Stochastica, however, must have missed it, or perhaps she had not come across Minerva's uncle Angus yet. In any case, the matter of James Potter and his league seemed more important to her at the moment, so she pressed on, 'But you will speak to her, won't you?'

'Stochi,' said Mandy patiently. 'What do you want me to do? Just because this Nott fellow tells you people have been duelling in the corridors, do you honestly believe we can call them to account for that? For Merlin's sake, you must know that half your students cannot seem to tell the difference between a lie and the truth. And Snape could simply have had too much dinner.'

'Have you ever seen that boy eat too much?' asked Stochastica defiantly. 'And anyway, my students aren't lying any more often than yours, Mandy. Don't give me that nonsense.'

Mandy shrugged. 'We have had this discussion and do not seem to come to terms there. But Nott has lied to me before. Especially about Minerva's second-years. They seem to provoke a lot of peculiar reactions from their fellow students.'

'No wonder,' said Stochastica grimly. 'A fine lot those four. Unbelievable, really, that the Gryffindor tower is still standing. This year's second years really are... how did Minerva put it... "an unbearable group of troublemakers"?'

'I believe that "friends" is what she said,' came a voice from behind Mandy and she turned around in surprise, discovering that it belonged to a young man of about Stochastica's height, with long, blonde hair and a small goatee, who was wearing the red uniform of a border soldier and was giving her a thin, though not unkind smile before stating: 'She also called them "intriguing" rather than "unbearable" I seem to remember. But I may be mistaken, of course. It is only what I have been told by my cousin.'

'Well, you would be biased,' snapped Stochastica, not indicating that she was at least as surprised about the man's sudden appearance as Mandy had been. 'You are related to at least two of them, aren't you?'

'Three,' said the man without changing his expression. Mandy frowned.

'You are... who are you?' she requested grumpily, not being used to meeting strangers in The Three Broomsticks. 'I don't think I have seen you in Hogsmeade before.'

'The reason being that I have only arrived this morning,' replied the soldier, holding out his hand in a somewhat slippery, over-correct manner. 'My name is Rodney Robertson, Professor Sprout. I am...'

'...the grandson of Moirai Robertson!' breathed Mandy. 'Is it possible? I thought you hadn't even started school yet!'

'Well, I have never been to Hogwarts,' said Robertson matter-of-factly. 'You might have expected that, though, considering my father's view on British schools.'

Stochastica frowned. Mandy realised that there was something wrong with the way Robertson had mentioned his father, but did not find out what it was until her colleague finally said, very pointedly: 'What father?'

Robertson's expression did not move an inch. 'I call him father,' he said. 'He is my grandmother's boyfriend. Far too young to be my grandfather, so we decided this would be the best solution.'

'What happened to your real parents?' enquired Mandy curiously. Robertson frowned, making clear that he had no intention of discussing the subject.

'Anyway,' snapped Stochastica, persistently sipping her drink. 'Moirai has been attending Hogwarts herself. For seven years. One should think that she considers herself adequately educated?'

Rodney shrugged. 'I don't know. Father said it would be better for me if he took over my education, and so he did.'

'What are you doing at the moment?' requested Mandy after a little while of watching him. 'Joined the wizarding army, have you?'

'Father insisted,' said Robertson, a smile playing around his bearded face. 'No, seriously. It is the only right thing to do these days, isn't it?' He grinned. 'Apart from being teacher, of course. I am looking forward to this... very new experience.'

Mandy stared at him. 'What is that supposed to mean?'

'I suspect Dumbledore has found a replacement for our vacancy at last,' remarked Stochastica coldly, putting two and two together in her accustomed Slytherin way of thinking, and watching their opposite with renewed interest. 'Meaning you are to teach Potions, young Robertson?'

'To gain some experience in the guidance of young people,' said the soldier. 'And for no more than a year either. I am going to try for the officer's academy down in M'bwa next summer. But until then, my grandmother wants me to spend my time in a useful way, so... here I am.'

'Minerva will be pleased,' Stochastica said, turning to Mandy once more. 'She has been unnerved for weeks. You cannot ask anyone to teach more than one subject at once at Hogwarts. It just isn't possible.'

'She is using a time-turner,' shrugged Mandy. 'I expect it would be manageable.'

Rodney Robertson's gaze darkened. 'A time-turner?' he said sternly. 'From the Ministry of Magic? How on earth...'

'Albus Dumbledore tends to get what he needs,' said Mandy with a dismissive gesture. 'Don't ask, Rodney. This is out of our hands.'

'A time-turner at a public place such as Hogwarts is against the law,' said the young soldier sternly. 'The governors would never support such a -...'

'Ah, but the governors haven't much of a say in this, I'm afraid,' replied Mandy coldly. 'Albus knows what it takes to run a school properly and tends to get whatever he requires. Good thing they finally made him headmaster. Hogwarts can only benefit from that.'

'Time-turners,' said Robertson persistently, 'are only to be used in cases of a severe emergency, restricted to those listed in paragraph nineteen of the educational enactment of nineteen-...'

'Don't wet yourself,' said Stochastica, chewing her straw. 'I agree that it is entirely Dumbledore's choice whether he allows time-turners at his school or not. If he doesn't know what he is doing, I daresay - who is?'

'And in any case,' added Mandy, 'it is not a real time-turner. Nothing over the range of five or six hours. No one will be interested in such a small matter.'

'It is against the law...' began Robertson again, but Mandy cut him off sharply.

'See here, lad,' she said sternly, 'there is one law at Hogwarts which you'll have to take into account, and one only: Dumbledore is to be trusted. His decisions are always well-considered and very advisable. If we cannot trust him...'

'...I daresay we can't trust anyone anymore these days,' finished Stochastica her sentence, causing Mandy to give her a puzzled, though thankful look. Robertson grinned.

'I think I gathered as much by now,' he said. 'You have a lot of faith in this man, don't you?'

Both witches nodded on cue.

'Well,' said Robertson,' I was taught to trust none but myself. Especially in situations such as the current political state of affairs.'

Stochastica rolled her eyes. 'I can see why Albus would want you to join the Hogwarts staff,' she said sarcastically. 'Let us drink to your arrival, Rodney Robertson, shall we? We have awaited you eagerly, in replacement for our dear Hestia.'

'I don't drink,' said Robertson, his face unmoving. 'And I am to meet the headmaster first thing tomorrow morning. But thank you. I'll talk to you at breakfast.'

And with this he vanished as abruptly as he had interrupted their conversation.

'You know whom he reminds me of?' said Mandy when the entrance door had closed behind Robertson's red uniform. Stochastica shook her head, refilling her glass with a wave of her left hand.

'Seems like just any of these daft soldiers to me,' she said drowsily. 'Too slow to think and too quick to grasp. In the literal sense, that is.' She grinned.

'Yes, but...' Mandy was thinking. 'Well, I know it was before your time, but do you remember who Minerva's first boyfriend was at school?' She grinned as well, involuntarily, and realised that Stochastica was eyeing her with interest now.

'No. Who was it?'

Mandy put up a meaningful expression. 'You have seen him at the Ministry last week. And I daresay he is one of Rodney's superiors, though I cannot tell for sure...'

Stochastica gave her a slight frown and sipped her drink again. 'If you are talking about the person I have in mind you are being disgusting,' she finally said in her usual straightforward manner. 'Not that that is unusual with you, of course.'

Mandy felt insulted.

'You know,' said Stochastica after a while, 'I keep being surprised by the amount of things you know - or pretend to know. And the kinds of conclusions you draw by a simple visual similarity.' She did not seem actually annoyed, Mandy resolved inwardly. Meaning that the Head of Slytherin actually had a sense of humour. She would have to tell Minerva about it.

'Besides,' said her colleague in mock sternness, 'I don't see how you think you can state that Minerva's first relationship was before my time when you are almost ten years younger than I am! How come you know everything about every person in this castle ages before everyone else does?'

Mandy snorted into her pint.

'Connections, Stochi' she said light-heartedly after a short while. 'Connections and perfect timing. That is all it takes.'