Legal Disclaimer: I own my stuff, but not the original source material. That belongs to whoever. Also, the opinions and interpretations I use here may not reflect the same in said whoever that owns the source material. Look, I'm just a poor college librarian. Suing me isn't going to get you anything but tears.
Warning: This work may be offensive to some readers. Feel free to back out if that's you.
Author's Note: So, this fic is entirely about kill Snape in the way that would hurt his pride the most. If you like the man who joined magical Hitler because he didn't get the girl he felt entitled to, then maybe don't read this fic. If you like the guy who thought nothing of letting said allegorical Nazi bully around sixteen years worth of students, this is also not the fic for you. And for those of you wondering, yes, that is Leta Lestrange's mother at the end.
Submitting Info:
Stacked with: Hogwarts (Term 11); MC4A
Individual Challenges: Misunderstood; Slytherin MC; Gryffindor MC; Sett to Destroy (Y); More than England; Fall Leaves; Ways to the Heart; Interesting Times; Themes & Things A [Death]; Themes & Things B [Protection]; Short Jog (Y); Yellow Ribbon; Yellow Ribbon Redux; Feeling So Logical [Joyful]
House: Hufflepuff
Assignment No.: Term 11 – Assignment 01
Subject (Task No.): Photography (Task#1: Write about a death.)
Other Hogwarts Challenges: Insane Prompt Challenge [25] (Killjoy); 365 [] (); Scavenger Hunt [66] (Write a fic about your least favorite character); Galleon Club ("I'm serious!")
Space Address (Prompt): 5D (Orange)
Representation(s): Severus Snape; Albus Dumbledore; Unnamed Female House Elf
Bonus Challenges: Lyre Liar; Most Human Bean; Rock of Ages; Abandoned Ship; Head of Perseus; Surprise!; Second Verse (Lovely Coconuts; Unwanted Advice; Persistence Still); Chorus (Creature Feature; Bandstand; A Long Dog; Tomorrow's Shade; Peddling Pots; Pear-Shaped; Odd Feathers)
Tertiary Bonus Challenges: O3 (Orator; Oust); SN (Rail; Negate)
Word Count: 1770
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Dance, Dance, Revolution
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Severus Snape had joined the Hogwarts staff the fall term after the war ended. It had taken that long because the evidence of his Death Eater activities kept bringing him before the Wizengamot. All through that first winter and spring, it had seemed that every Death Eater they had uncovered spouted his name, at least eventually. Every time, Albus Dumbledore would go before the Wizengamot to assure them that Snape had spied for him, and thus, should not be tried for what was quickly becoming a very long list of crimes. Even when it was revealed that Snape had been a part of Voldemort's innermost circle, one of his most trusted lieutenants, Albus Dumbledore was there to remind them that they had heard evidence that Snape was innocent and had a change of heart.
No one commented about how the evidence was nothing more than Albus Dumbledore saying that.
No one asked how long Snape had been spying for Albus Dumbledore or why that should negate any wrongdoing in the first place.
No one mentioned the Black heir who had been arrested for betraying the Potters, because Albus Dumbledore assured them that Sirius Black had been their Secret Keeper.
No one cared that a poor family found a hurt rat in their garden and decided to adopt the pitiful creature.
But as July bled into August, the Death Eater trials were finally wrapping up, and the survivors of the Blood War were beginning to get their lives back together. This included the retirement of Professor Horace Slughorn who after over fifty years of teaching and collecting the best and brightest of Britain's finest, decided to retire and enjoy the network he had created. Of course, this left a permanent position open on the Hogwarts staff (as no one has considered the chronically open Defense against the Dark Arts position permanent after no one managed to keep it longer than a year since the mid-fifties).
It took only a week into the new term for people, students and staff alike, to start wishing that the irascible young man had been hired for the Defense against the Dark Arts position instead. It took less than a month for the complaints to begin being filed with first with the other Heads of House (because Severus Snape had also taken over Slughorn's position as Head of Slytherin), and when that failed to yield any results other than making Snape even more irritated than normal, with the Deputy Headmistress. Unfortunately, Minerva McGonagall took the complaints directly to Dumbledore, who assured her that the complaints were just misunderstandings.
After all, Dumbledore trusted him with his life.
By the time October was drawing to a close, the staff was resigned to dealing with the unpleasantness of their new colleague. The younger students still had a bit of hope that someone would do something to curb the bullying they were receiving from a professor, but it was like the flame of a match as it approached the fingers of the person holding it. The older students, who still remember the sadistic boy who was now their new professor, didn't have even that much. None of the other professors had been inclined to stop Snape and his Death Eater friends then, and they weren't stopping him now that he had joined their ranks. Only the Marauders (fellow students and now long since graduated) had protected them.
The air of the Great Hall as the students filed in for the Halloween feast was subdued, almost defeated. It was officially the first anniversary of the vanquishing of the Dark Lord Voldemort, but with Snape at the High Table scowling down at them, no one dared show any happiness in that. Snape detested anything that suggested people were enjoying themselves. At the slightest sound of merriment, he would swoop down upon them like a giant bat to snatch it away. He was a real killjoy, and not even his Slytherins were truly safe from him as they were expected to comport themselves with solemn dignity outside of their common room.
Even the headmaster's pumpkin orange robe with dancing black skeletons didn't get more than a quiet chuckle from the assembled students. Determined to do something to fix what he was certain was remembered sorrow, Albus stood and tapped his spoon against his goblet. All eyes immediately turned towards the High Table. Albus' blue eyes twinkled as he looked down on the many upturned faces, studiously ignoring the feeling of being a king addressing his subjects.
"Today marks the first anniversary of Voldemort's defeat," he intoned. A group wide flinch went through the crowd at his use of the Dark Lord's name. The memory of the Taboo and the consequences for breaking it was still too fresh in everyone's mind for them not to flinch in anticipation. Dumbledore tutted quietly. The automatic Bullhorn Charm carried it faithfully to all corners of the Great Hall. "Many were lost in the war, but we may now rejoice, for our world has returned to peace. Only together can we move on from the tragedies of the past and into whatever the future holds. We must strive to forgive those who made mistakes and embrace them as our fellow wizard-kind."
Many students exchanged silent glances with each other. Surely the headmaster wasn't suggesting what they thought he was, that they just embrace a group of terrorists just for the sake of peace. Genocidal racism wasn't simply a mistake like miscasting a Silencing Charm. A few of the Muggle-borns looked paler than they had before Dumbledore's speech. The scattered students who were the sole survivors of their families due to Death Eater attacks looked as if they had been slapped at the suggestion that they embrace the very people who had made them orphans in the first place.
Then Snape let out a high-pitched scream worthy of a horror movie heroine, drawing the entire room's attention. He was staring down at his hands which had turned (just like the rest of his visible skin) the exact same color of the fake nacho cheese flavoring that Muggles used on crisps. His robes were no longer the black he wore so exclusively. Instead, they were now a shade of red even more eye-bleedingly bright than the crimson of Gryffindor and bouncing across the fabric was golden Dark Marks. Snape's greasy hair had also changed colors to a rather uninspiring shade of green that matched week-old pea soup. Already, the orange of Snape's face was darkening as his still-dark eyes swept across the assembled students.
"When I find out which one of you little dunderheads are responsible," he hissed, "I will render you down for potion ingredients." Still operational because of Dumbledore remaining standing, the Bullhorn Charm carried Snape's words as diligently as it had the headmaster's voice. Dumbledore tutted gently, as if he was scolding a misbehaving Shi Tzu rather than a person who had just threatened the students under his care. Snape turned his furious gaze towards the old man. "I'm serious!"
Dumbledore just frowned at the irascible man, appearing nothing more than mildly disappointed at Snape's threat. With a disgusted scoff, Snape threw his napkin onto his still empty plate and stood to storm off in a huff. He made it off the dais that held the High Table before freezing in place at the base of the stairs.
As suddenly as he had screamed before, Snape jerked violently sideways. Then he jerked again. It happened again, and again, until the professor who had spent the last two months terrorizing the students of Hogwarts was in the exact center of the space between the House tables and the High Table. Then he threw his hands in the air as he began to move his hips from side to side. His legs would kick out occasionally, far higher than anyone in his audience would wish for him to be kicking. All the while, expletives spilled from his thin lips until he was panting too hard to continue the shouts.
That was about the time when people started to realize that the spastic motions were supposed to be dancing, even it only resembled the act in passing.
A loud snapping noise accompanied by Snape screaming breathlessly finally spurred Dumbledore into action. He waved his knobby wand around in increasingly intricate ways as he tried to dispel whatever magic was forcing his Potions professor to dance. Nothing seemed to work, and it was quickly becoming apparent that Snape was having difficulties continuing as he was. Desperate to do something, Dumbledore cast the strongest petrification spell that he knew, trusting that the Elder Wand would give it enough power to restraint Snape without harming him.
Snape's limps snapped together as if magnetized. He wobbled for a moment before toppling forward like a domino. The crowd winced in sympathy at the wet cracking sound he made when he hit the stone floor of the Great Hall. Even trapped in Dumbledore's spell, Snape's body continued to undulate as if trying to continue dancing.
Abruptly, Snape stilled completely.
The only thing still in motion was the bouncing Dark Marks which glittered in the light of the flouting candles. Cautiously, Dumbledore approached to kneel beside the supine potion-maker. With his wand still in one hand, he rolled the man over onto his back. The formerly large nose that had stood as proudly from Snape's face as it had on any of his Roman ancestors was now crumpled almost flat against Severus' paling face.
Snape still didn't move, not even to breathe.
"He's dead," Dumbledore announced in shock, as if he couldn't believe it. "He's dead."
There was a beat of silence as the entire room held their breaths.
Then the applauds started, slowly at first as if testing out the daring disrespect before gaining momentum until the cheering started as well. Someone, probably a Muggle-born given what it was, began singing a parody of the Munchkins' celebration song for the death of the Wicked Witch of the East. Albus Dumbledore looked around the joyful students with a disapproving expression that they all ignored, wondering where it had all gone wrong.
In the shadows, like a good elf should be, the dark-skinned elf that was behind the Bad Man finally facing justice for all the Bad Things he had done watched as the baby masters celebrated their new freedom from the abuser that the headmaster had put on the staff.
"For my Leta," she whispered before snapping away to the kitchens. An elf's work was never done, and the babies would need their dinner eventually, after all.