Author's note: Three weeks until Christmas break. (Insert heavy sigh of relief.) Of course, I have to get through my finals first, but you know—there's light at the end of the tunnel. And I submitted my music history term paper without having to grovel for an extension. That's always a bonus.

Anyway, I hope that you enjoy this chapter. Please review!

Guest #1: Lol, I wonder what he would've done had he stumbled upon that cauldron. I doubt he'd have been calm about it. Probably lots of threats of expulsion. I like to imagine that he discreetly sent a stinging hex at the dwarf, just to try to get it to shut up. Didn't work, though. Second year is seeming to go by very fast. It might just be that there's not as much of Severus in this book. If not in third year, fourth year should definitely pick up a lot.

Guest #2: Haha, thank you!

Warnings: Swearing

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I referenced pages 197-198 of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets while writing this.

Suspense

Severus would have put up with many things—grading twice as many abysmal papers as usual, contracting a particularly virulent strain of wizarding flu, perhaps getting his soul sucked out by Dementors—in exchange for not having to spend another day on staff with Gilderoy Lockhart.

"Of course, I could have gotten a mastery in Transfiguration," Lockhart was saying to a tight-lipped Minerva, who had been trying to discuss a transfiguration article with Dumbledore, "but there's only so much that one can do with one's life, and I got a bit preoccupied fighting evil forces. After that, well, how could I selfishly take time out for a mastery when I could contribute to the betterment of the world?"

This was not quite as bad as yesterday's breakfast-time monologue, during which Lockhart had proclaimed that the love spread by his magnificently-arranged Valentine's Day festivities had subdued even the monster, the proof of that being the fact that nobody had been Petrified since Finch-Fletchley and Nearly Headless Nick back before Christmas.

"Though, sometimes, I think it would have been better to do my mastery and settle into a happily-mediocre life, as you have chosen to do, Minerva, because let me tell you, there's a dark side to fame that most people don't even realize exists. It takes a strong character to shoulder all of it."

Minerva looked as though she were considering turning into a cat and clawing Lockhart's face off, and then turning around to rake Dumbledore over the coals for employing the man.

"For instance, I can't go anywhere without being fawned over, can't get any peace and quiet, always being asked for my advice. Of course, I'm happy to help the less knowledgeable-"

"Terribly sorry to interrupt," drawled Severus, not sounding sorry at all, "but I've reached my stupidity quota for the day, so I must ask that you shut—up."

"Now, Severus," Dumbledore chastised wearily. These exchanges seemed to be thinning even Dumbledore's bottomless pit of patience.

There was a pause. Then, completely disregarding everything that Severus had just said, Lockhart prattled on: "See, the thing about being an icon like I am…"

He couldn't wait for the curse to activate.

The Gryffindor/Hufflepuff Quidditch match had been cancelled. Given all the shit that seemed to happen to Potter during the games, Severus couldn't help but feel relieved, although the reason for the cancellation was nothing to be pleased about.

Penelope Clearwater, a Ravenclaw Perfect, and Hermione Granger were the mystery monster's latest victims. Dumbledore had made a brief speech to the entire staff and given instructions to patrol the corridors in pairs, before calling Poppy and the Heads of House up to his office.

"Needless to say, the Board of Governors is quite unhappy. They are threatening to close the school if the reason behind these attacks is not uncovered soon."

No doubt Lucius was one of the main people pushing for Hogwarts to close. Severus's former mentor was always looking for ways to damage Dumbledore's reputation, and closing the school while citing Dumbledore's inability to keep matters under control and safe would certainly do that.

"If it's any consolation, the Mandrakes should be ready soon," Pomona said, although she didn't look particularly consoled herself.

"That is wonderful, Pomona," Dumbledore replied quietly, "thank you. Severus, how long will it take to brew the potion?"

"The initial brewing is complicated, but once complete, the potion requires only twenty-four hours to set."

Thank Merlin Lockhart had not been invited to this meeting; the man would probably be jumping in with how he had discovered the secret to brewing it better.

"Very good." Dumbledore nodded. "Now, there is one more piece of information I wish to impart before you all go: Minerva says that Miss Granger was found clutching a mirror."

Severus raised an eyebrow. Granger was far from being a vain girl, more interested in books than in her looks, so the idea of her carrying a mirror around was unusual. She must have had another reason for it, besides checking that her face had not somehow become uglier in the ten minutes since she'd last checked, as Severus often saw some girls do.

"If anybody knows why this may have been, please tell me.

"You may go."

Dear Severus,

I'm terribly sorry for not stopping by to say hello, but my presence was required elsewhere, and imagined that you had enough on your plate as it is. Draco tells me that the entire castle is in an uproar. I hope that the lesser people with whom you are forced to surround yourself are not being too much of a nuisance.

You have, of course, heard the good news: We have—that is, the Board of Governors—at last managed to suspend the sentimental fool who runs this wreck of a school. As you know, I have been pushing for this since I was appointed, temporary suspension being half a stepping-stone away from permanent suspension. It feels nice to see the fruits of my long-standing effort. Perhaps the next Headmaster will actually be decent, and not such a muggle-loving believer in the prevailing Light; I doubt that Minerva McGonagall, undeniably skilled witch though she is, will last long in the position. In fact, you yourself could apply. At the very least, you value worthwhile ideals, unlike the rest of them, and would be a marked improvement.

Sincerely,

Lucius Malfoy

Summer was creeping over the grounds around the castle; sky and lake alike turned periwinkle blue and flowers large as cabbages burst into bloom in the greenhouses. But the steady progression of Mother Nature did not stop the fear from spreading. The sun warming the castle walls outside seemed to stop at the mullioned windows. There was barely a face to be seen in the school that didn't look worried and tense, and any laughter that rang through the corridors sounded shrill and unnatural and was quickly stifled.

As far as Severus knew, Dumbledore had not been in contact with any of the faculty, and nobody knew where it was that he had disappeared and how he was passing the time during his suspension. Minerva's time was largely consumed with teaching, the mountains of paperwork that Dumbledore had left behind, and trying to keep the student body from erupting due to anxiety. Her colleagues usually only saw her briefly each day, at mealtimes, or in passing, shepherding students between classes, something which they were all doing, much to Severus's annoyance.

In the midst of it all, there was one person who seemed to be having a grand time.

"I always thought Father might be the one who got rid of Dumbledore," Draco Malfoy remarked to Crabbe and Goyle one day in Potions class, not troubling to keep his voice down. "I told you he thinks Dumbledore's the worst Headmaster the school's ever had. Maybe we'll get a decent Headmaster now. Someone who won't want the Chamber of Secrets closed. McGonagall won't last long, she's only filling in…."

Lucius must have been sending letters filled with similar sentiments to Draco as the one he'd sent Severus, as Draco's words seemed to be merely an echo of Severus had been hearing from Lucius.

Severus swept past, making no comment.

"Sir," Draco called. "Sir, why don't you apply for the Headmaster's job?"

This was definitely an idea parroted from Lucius. Severus suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Hopefully, Draco would learn one day to form his own opinions. Merlin only knew subscribing to others' beliefs had never done Severus any good.

"Now, now, Malfoy," Severus said, giving a small, cold, smile for pretense. "Professor Dumbledore has only been suspended by the governors. I dare say he'll be back with us soon enough."

If not, they were going to be in even bigger shit than they were in already.

"Yeah, right," Draco answered. "I expect you'd have Father's vote, sir, if you wanted to apply for the job. I'll tell Father you're the best teacher here, sir."

Severus's thin smile grew into a smirk as he walked on. Luckily, he had reached the opposite end of the classroom by the time Draco's next words reached his ears, the words which would have caused the smirk to vanish abruptly from his face if he were not so good at concealing his emotions.

"I'm quite surprised the Mudbloods haven't all packed their bags by now. Bet you five Galleons the next one dies. Pity it wasn't Granger."

It was another stroke of luck that the bell rang the moment Draco finished speaking, and Severus didn't have to try teaching a class after hearing that word.

Mudblood.

Severus was no fan of it. It had ruined his only friendship and set off a chain reaction of other, worse events. Of course he disliked—detested—the word. That word had essentially ruined his life. He acted in loco parentis of the children of the most blood-purity-obsessed families in the wizarding world, but the word and its associations never got easier to hear.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, leaning back against the desk of the now-empty classroom.

Bloody hell.

He didn't need this today.