Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any member of the Harry Potter universe. They belong to the estimable JK Rowling and I am infinitely grateful for her letting us borrow them to play with a bit.

Chapter Four: Things Could Be Worse

Oh joy, a staff meeting.

Snape growled in the back of his throat. It accomplished absolutely nothing to get him out his predicament, but it made him a feel a little better.

At least that woman had been cornered by Professor Sprout about something she had said to her third years. Merlin, one night of peace at least, then he noticed the twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes when they met his own.

That's never a good sign.

However, the staff meeting went as well as could have been expected. He kept his sunken position and his glower ready should anyone make the mistake of attempting to ask his opinion on any of the myriad of trivial problems that seemed to permeate the school on a regular basis. He also refrained from volunteering himself for any function that was mentioned. I should volunteer just to watch Minerva's face screw up in distaste and abject confusion, he thought fondly. Minerva McGonagall was one of the few people he held a minor passing fondness for. When the meeting was adjourned by Dumbledore, Snape nearly leapt to be the first from the room.

"Ah Severus, glad I caught you." Dumbledore looked a little winded from racing to beat him to the door. "Might I have a moment?"

Snape grudgingly nodded as he watched the file of the other professors leaving the lounge. Lucky bastards.

"I've been told you've had a chance to get to know our newest Professor." Dumbledore seemed to be waiting for an answer.

"She is ill-mannered, ill-tempered, and inane," he snapped. While he might carry Dumbledore in the utmost respect, that did not extend to his bullying his way into Snape's private thoughts; especially when the questioning of such thoughts took place when Snape wanted nothing more than to return to his quarters to take care of the headache he just knew was coming.

"Really?" Dumbledore raised a bushy eyebrow, "I know Zivra is many things but ill-mannered? Ill-tempered even?"

"Who?" Snape was genuinely confused.

"Why Zivra Callistas, our new History of Magic Professor."

Snape was taken aback. "I met the chit once and it was a brief and uneventful."

"Pity." Dumbledore shrugged, "That will be remedied soon, providing you do agree to do me a small favour."

Snape sighed and raised one long-fingered hand to rub his temple. He could feel the beginnings of a stress headache. Just once, couldn't I be wrong about something? "And what, Headmaster, might that favour be?"

The staff lounge had been vacated by this point and Dumbledore motioned to a pair of chairs. "Please Severus, have a seat."

And to think I almost got away.

Zivra paced her quarters, avoiding waist high stacks of books. She knew better than to risk knocking over one. While books gave way, footstools and chairs did not; and she hadn't spotted either since she moved in. It was really amazing the amount of mess that could be made if one put one's mind to it. At least she still knew where her couch was. Well, she was pretty sure it was over there somewhere.

She sighed and sat at her worktable. It was covered with parchment, but at least sitting down there only required the movement of three diaries and a treatise on Ugandan agricultural policy. Unlike her couch which contained a multitude of very heavy tomes- amongst other things. If she were someone else, she would say she had too many books. But one can never have too many books, she silently amended.

She had to admit, she liked her quarters. They were spacious, if noticeably lacking in bookshelves. She studied the wall opposite her and contemplated how best to add shelving to it. Perhaps the house elves know of some-

She buried her face in hands. Now she knew she was losing her mind. She hated waiting. Actually, she hated waiting for someone else to decide her future. In point of fact, under normal circumstances she was said to possess a nearly infinite amount of patience. But this waiting on Dumbledore to dictate her livelihood was about to drive her mad.

"Argh!" She pushed herself away from the table and continued her pacing, ignoring the chair as it landed and on a knee-high stack of trial records from the Inquisition. They, however, did not fall; and continued to blithely support the weight of the heavy wooden chair despite the fact that Zivra was currently thinking about smashing the whole lot of them just to hear the satisfying sound she was sure they would make.

What is taking so long?

She checked the clock mounted on the wall. It had been exactly two minutes since the staff-meeting had ended.

Okay, so maybe 'long' is an overstatement.

"Severus, I have asked many things of you in the time you have been working for me." When Snape didn't reply, Dumbledore went on. "Professor Callistas had the misfortune of a run-in with a runespoor some year ago. Are you familiar with it?"

"Of course," he nearly sneered, then remembered his company, "it was once a favoured pet for Death Eaters." He paused then began a mini-lecture, "The runespoor is a three headed snake whose individual branches act independently of one another. Each head possesses a different personality: the planner, the dreamer, and the critic. The critic, I believe, is deadly. The skin from a runespoor is useful in certain potions while the-"

"Very good Severus," Dumbledore interrupted him. "And you are right, it is the critic that is deadly, and it is the critic that Professor Callistas had the misfortune of being bitten by. I was hoping you might be able to help her find an antidote, or at least a solution to the ailments that plague her as a result."

"That is unfortunate for her, but the runespoor's venom is fatal in all cases."

"And yet the young lady lives."

Snape didn't dwell on it. "Obviously it was not the critic head of the runespoor that bit her. In which case, she'll be fine, the others two are non- venomous."

"Are you always so quick to jump to conclusions Severus? I must say, it does not become you." Dumbledore sat back in his chair, "Humour an old man, of all the potions Masters you know of, which are capable of concocting such an antidote?"

Snape shrugged one shoulder, "I could count them on one hand and include myself."

"And do you include Alchemedes in this count?"

"Alchemedes is dead."

"He was also Zivra's father."

Snape pondered that for a moment. "If anyone could have brewed such a thing, it would have been him."

"Yes, well, despite the man's considerable talents, the potion was brewed in haste and was not a permanent cure, but one meant to stave off the effects of the poison."

Snape couldn't help but be impressed. The runespoor was an extremely poisonous snake and he was quite certain no one had even tried an antidote in centuries. To have done so while his daughter lay ill, probably the course of less than eight hours if he was using other herbs to ward of the sickness; was an accomplishment of note

"Unfortunately," Dumbledore interrupted his thoughts, "as you said, he is dead; and his daughter is becoming ever more rapidly immune to the properties of her antidote."

"And so you want me to find a cure for runespoor? Something no wizard in history has been able to do."

"Except Alchemedes."

"If it's not permanent, it doesn't count." Snape did sneer this time. "Headmaster, are you certain-?"

"Severus Snape, in the more than twenty years I have known you, I have never known you to back down from a challenge. Was I wrong?"

Zivra cursed as she did exactly what she had been avoiding. A navy blue footstool with silver embroidery tipped precariously and the uppermost books slid off onto the floor. She steadied the stool with one hand while holding her shin with the other.

"Bloody furniture."

According to the clock it had now been more than fifteen minutes since the staff meeting had ended. In her widest estimation, Dumbledore should have still been done explaining her problem by now.

Professor Snape is probably balking at undertaking such a chore. She could only imagine the dread that must go into being asked to do something no one had ever been able to adequately accomplish. She said a quick prayer under her breath for her father's forgiveness for such a thought.

In mounting frustration she lashed out with a kick. But instead of the gratification this should have brought, she grabbed her foot in pain and hopped around the room instead. Silly girl, she scolded, you know better than to attack tax law.

Suddenly, Dumbledore's head appeared in her fireplace. She stopped hopping. "Please tell me it's good news."

Dumbledore smiled. "Professor Snape awaits you in his private lab. It's behind the portrait of Ulric the Smelly."

Zivra chuckled at the thought of the dour Professor Snape being housed behind a portrait of Ulirc the Smelly. A goblin leader of the Middle Ages, Ulric-

Zivra cut herself off. She was not in class and had no need to lecture herself.

"Thank you Headmaster, if there's anything-"

"Don't worry yourself, I could not have done anything but help you."

She smiled. "Thank you anyway. Where exactly is the portrait of Ulric the Smelly?"

"I've sent Dobby up to show you the way."

She nodded as his head disappeared.

A moment later, Dobby the house elf appeared in her chambers and horror of all horrors, he was wearing clothes.

She contained herself. "Dobby is it?"

"Yes Professor."

She gritted her teeth against the questions she had. She could always find out later. However, she was going to find answers if she had to murder him to do it. A freed house elf was an abomination against the workings of the entire wizarding world.

"Lead on," she snapped. Dobby leapt to obey.

The elf could only lead her as far as the hallway the portrait was on. She could understand not being able to memorise every portrait in Hogwarts, but then again it was his job.

It didn't matter, Zivra wasn't a History professor for nothing and found Ulric in short order. He really was ugly. Goblins weren't much to look at to begin with, but Ulric gave new meaning to heinous.

"Would you please tell Professor Snape that I'm here?"

Ulric sneered at her and continued to disembowel some poor goat that was perpetually caught in his painting. She suppressed her gag instinct.

A guardian portrait to suit the man.

She pondered the problem for a moment then settled on a different tack. Snarling, she spit out, "Eghlihk vagh braughnena, Uklrack."

Ulric looked profoundly surprised not only that she spoke Goblin, but also that she knew his true name. He smiled at her in grudging admiration. "Umrack, carnaran."

She took the insult as the compliment it was meant to be and waited for Ulric to return. When he did it was to leer at her and swing open, exposing a simple wooden door. She held her breath and turned the handle. She hesitated a moment which was obviously one moment more than Professor Snape was willing to give her.

"Either enter or leave, but don't dawdle in the doorway."

A/N: Information about the runespoor can be found in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, as well as the "Harry Potter Lexicon" online database.