With Soul of Light and Dark

by CrimsonMyriad

As the Order knows full-well, only the pure of heart can cast a Patronus. When Snape saves Harry from the dementors and reveals his doe Patronus, the Order have reason to trust their spy. Snape knows that he could aid the war effort with his logic and ingenuity, but will the Order trust him enough to accept it? Order of the Phoenix, Snape-centric AU

8. Great Minds

Chapter 8: Great Minds…

September 9, 1995

Kingsley Shacklebolt

Thanks to all the glamourous tales spun by career advertisers and veterans, it is a little-known fact that an Auror's life is actually quite stressful. And as Deputy Head of the Auror Office, Kingsley Shacklebolt had a more stressful life than that of most Aurors. If it wasn't having to keep his cantankerous superior happy, then it was trying to sow false leads about Sirius Black while simultaneously appearing competent and collected to the rest of the Auror Office. But Shacklebolt was quite good at looking competent and collected, even when inside he might be frantically worrying about everything from Voldemort's return to the enormous pile of paperwork on his desk.

His 'competent and collected' mask didn't even crack when Scrimgeour raged at him for his 'infernally pea-brained' belief that Sirius was in Tibet. He just stood there, taking in his superior's dressing down with all outward appearance of solemnity and penitence. It did rather hurt, for the lion-like Head Auror did not often have to accuse his protégé of failure. But, as Lupin told him earlier that week, one must make sacrifices in wartime.

Shacklebolt out a soft sigh when he read the Saturday morning papers which so exuberantly informed him that all his carefully laid plans regarding Sirius Black had gone to waste. He might have expected as much. It was his fault. He should have insisted that the cabin-feverous escapee stay indoors, but, no, he just had to give in to the man's pleading eyes, didn't he? There was nothing more to do now than to accept the situation as it stood, and to move on. Shacklebolt was somewhat of a stoic.

But it was an almost welcome diversion when he received a rather uniquely charmed letter later that same Saturday. The black owl that delivered it immediately flapped off into the sky, obviously having been told not to wait for a response to be returned. Closing his window against the warm summer breeze, Shacklebolt cautiously opened the black wax seal, and leaned forward in his chair to read.

Shacklebolt.

You need not concern yourself with the apparent rashness of my owl delivering you sensitive information, for I have charmed the seal and ink of this letter to not be responsive to any touch except your own. No doubt you are indignant that I took a sample of your DNA at one of the Order meetings, but I have done the same with all the other members… although, as you can imagine, it was a difficult task to do so with Moody, particularly after his experience last year.

On to the subject of my missive… early this morning before I read the papers, I learned that Lucius Malfoy saw the mutt at Platform 9 ¾, and so was the one to crow the information to the Ministry and Daily Prophet. It is then certain that our prodigal Dark wizard is not merely guessing about Black's whereabouts. I thought in lieu of your task, you might appreciate the warning that the Dark Lord will not be as easily fooled by your respected self as the Ministry might be. I advise you to be on your guard, for your little machinations will not go unnoticed. I was also able to learn from the peacock that he was the one responsible for Podmore's unfortunate and hitherto inexplicable actions. The Imperious, of course.

Regards,

S. Snape

There were several interesting, and somewhat concerning elements to the spy's letter, but Shacklebolt, being a methodical man, settled back in his chair and tapped a dark finger rhythmically on his table.

So, Lucius Malfoy was the one that cursed Podmore into Azkaban… Shacklebolt's brow crinkled imperceptibly. Malfoy was a dangerous man, and having the Ministry wrapped around his finger (or rather, his purse-strings) was proving to be quite an obstruction to the Order, in more ways than one. Also, by having Fudge's ear, Shacklebolt had no doubt that the oily aristocrat was filling the Minister's paranoid imagination with visions of Dumbledore raising a militia against him. Something had to be done about the man, but Malfoy had slipped out of incriminating situations more times than Shacklebolt had fingers. Going up against his cunning and wealth was a challenge that a good many Aurors and politicians had failed in long before Shacklebolt ever contemplated the venture.

Another concern was found in the fact that Severus Snape had somehow surreptitiously gained traces of the DNA of every member of the Order. It took the man a few moments to recall exactly what the acronym stood for, but thanks to taking Muggle Studies in his seventh year, he soon realized in horror exactly what the spy had done. So, Snape had managed to collect bodily traces of the entire Order- hair, blood, fingernails, skin, and goodness knows what else. There were many dark spells and potions through which DNA traces could be manipulated… and Shacklebolt's confidence in Snape's loyalty was not secure. Yet he freely admitted garnering our DNA… he thought. No one had noticed before, so if he truly had malignant intent, he would not have revealed his actions to me, nor in fact, invented this ingenious privacy charm. For if it indeed did what the spy claimed it could do, Snape's invention could be of inestimable value to the Order.

Yet again, Shacklebolt found himself contemplating Severus Snape's true loyalties, and he recalled his earlier resolve to determine said loyalties. But it had been a busy week since that conversation with Lupin on the doorstep to Grimmauld Place, and he had not given thought to his challenge since putting it to himself.

Since it was the weekend, Shacklebolt shortly found himself apparating down to the Ministry of Magic, leaving his paperwork behind to gather dust. When contemplating a criminal suspect, every good Auror invariably takes a trip down to Level 1's Records Office, so they might thoroughly research their suspect before conducting interviews and field investigations. And while Severus Snape was certainly not a criminal suspect, he was, at any rate, suspect.

Shacklebolt had always loved the Records Office, although he was loathe to admit it to anyone. For among Aurors, the Records Office had the reputation of being the most boring room in the entire Minstry, and Shacklebolt had no desire to further the opinion that he was a completely unsalvageable Ravenclaw dweeb. But to him, this building held an enchantment that had nothing to do with its magical ability to update every insignificant record regarding Wizarding Britain. Located in the heart spire of the Ministry, it was part of the original Ministry building, and thus looked vastly out of place with the rest of the Departments. Built largely of smooth grey stone, it was shaped somewhat like an onion with a slice right down the middle, said slice being the walkway between bookcases. Great curving shelves soured up to the room, each shelf getting smaller the closer it came to the room's centre. Within the heart of the room was a circular table, scattered with books, quills and paper and lighted by a single lamp. Artificial sunlight bled down from the skylighted ceiling, dust particles floating in the sunrays' path, casting some shelves into shadow, depending on the sun's bent.

Although all the shelves were labelled and categorised, there was one volume Shacklebolt didn't need to search for.

"Accio Hogwarts Student Records- 20th century." He incantated.

Immediately, a heavy volume soared out from the Education section and landed with a heavy thwump on the round table. Shacklebolt eyed it appreciatively. Holding held the records of every single student ever to attend Hogwarts between 1900 to 2000, graduation or otherwise, it was enchanted to keep updating whenever a new bit of relevant information occurred in the academic life of a student. An identical set of records were also kept in the Headmaster's Office at Hogwarts. If Shacklebolt recalled correctly, the records dated as far back as 991 A.D., although the earliest files were manuscripted into scrolls.

As the records were organised by each student's first year, Shacklebolt found Snape, Severus in the year 1971. In the top corner of the page, next to the twisting emblem of Slytherin House, a little boy smiled shyly from the page. Shacklebolt had to do a double-take. Yes, it was certainly Snape… but twenty-five years had obviously imprinted its mark quite firmly into his present complexion, for it was hard to believe that the smooth-faced child peering out at him was the same sour-visaged spy that haunted the dark corners of the Grimmauld Place kitchen. The child had a thin, pointed little face, with black hair much longer than was the custom for wizarding children. What drew Shacklebolt in the most were the child's dark, long-lashed eyes. Just staring at them made the hardened Auror feel sad, for a reason he couldn't understand. But despite the wistful, haunted look in the boy's eyes, a little smile played around his mouth, a smile that Shacklebolt couldn't help feeling surprised that Snape had ever owned.

He dragged his eyes away from the picture, and took to reading Snape's school records.

1971- Year of Attendance

SNAPE, SEVERUS- SLYTHERIN HOUSE

Full Name: Severus Tobias Snape

Gender: Male

Blood Status: Half-Blood

Father: Tobias Snape, Muggle

Mother: Eileen Faustina Snape (née Prince), Pureblood Witch

Date of Birth: January 9, 1960

Place of Birth: Cokeworth, Greater Manchester, England, Great Britain

ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL RESULTS- 1976

Ancient Runes O

Arithmancy O

Care of Magical Creatures O

Charms O

Defence Against the Dark Arts O

Herbology O

History of Magic O

Potions O

Transfiguration O

NASTILY EXHAUSING WIZARDING TEST RESULTS- 1978

Ancient Runes O

Arithmancy O

Alchemy O

Charms O

Defence Against the Dark Arts O

Herbology O

History of Magic O

Potions O

Transfiguration O

AWARDS

Defence Against the Dark Arts Lesson Cup- 2nd Year, 1973

Potions Cup- 4th Year, 1975

Herbology Award- 5th Year, 1976

Advanced Potions Award- 7th Year, 1978

Advanced DADA Award- 7th Year, 1978

Academic Excellence Award- Merlin Standard- Graduation

SOCIAL PARTICIPATION (Sports, Clubs, Formal Associations, ect.)

-none

LEADERSHIP POSITIONS
-none

By the time Shacklebolt had finished reading the whole thing, his Ravenclaw head ached. A genius, Lupin had said. Well, from what he saw, Severus Snape as a boy had definitely been exceptionally intelligent, and an incredible workaholic to boot. 9 N.E.W.T.s, for Merlin's sake! That was overdoing it… even the most ambitious of students would balk at choosing anything over eight. And he had earned himself the Merlin Standard Academic Excellence Award, thus graduating first in his year. That he had done so without being made prefect or Head Boy indicated that for all his intelligence, his personality must have been missing something important. Did Snape even have a life outside school as a kid? He could easily picture the boy now- bookish, devilishly clever, apparently unpopular, and perhaps, just as he was now, a natural loner? He had already surmised that Snape's obvious Muggleness (inherent in his surname) would have made it seriously difficult for him to find himself a foothold in Slytherin House… was that why he joined the Death Eaters in the first place? Shacklebolt knew from professional experience that isolated and friendless young boys were often the target for Voldemort's radicalisation. Nose-deep in the Dark Arts- Lupin had said… that also could have been the reason Snape joined the Death Eaters… entranced by the idea of a safe place to learn and practise the alluring and forbidden corners of magic. 'Just how much,' Shacklebolt wondered 'Does Snape still believe in the pureblood ideological mantra? It's strange, that he should have joined a group that was out to kill people like his father. Perhaps he didn't have a good relationship with him.'

Shacklebolt put the book down with a confused shake of his head. 'Now, I have theories on why he might have joined the Death Eaters in the first place… but why did he leave them?' He knew Dumbledore would never tell him the secret of to his implicit trust in the man, but there had to be some other way to discover it… 'Maybe one of these days I will just ask Snape.' He thought wryly.

On that note, he rose from his chair, took the student records book back to its shelf, and then wandered into the Ministry section. With a new book in hand, he returned to his chair. Wizarding Citizen Records-b. 1960 held all mentions of official dealings a wizarding citizen might have with the ministry, from floo registration to Wizengamot trials. Like the former book, Wizarding Citizen Records was self-updating, and sorted by citizens born in specific years. At first the information was quite mundane- years of Hogwarts attendance, the acquisition of an apparition licence in sixth year, a request for the internment of his mother's remains in the Prince family cemetery (it was denied) and then… Shacklebolt paused, eyes widening in surprise. In late 1978, just after graduating Hogwarts, Severus Snape appeared before the Committee on Experimental Charms in order to have them investigate and then purchase two charms which he himself invented!

Getting up, Shacklebolt hurried to the Registered Magics section and quickly found Advancements in Wizarding Britain's Charmwork. Flipping through at a feverish pace, he soon landed upon the charms that the eighteen-year old Severus Snape had so boldly exhibited. The first charm was called Lapisclausia- an incantation Shacklebolt recalled learning during the 1st Wizarding War. The Aurors had found it quite useful in duels, as it literally locked the arms, legs, and lower body within a few centimetres of conjured granite rock. And that was the invention of an eighteen-year old? The second invention was a Werewolf-Alarm charm, which could be cast around the walls of a house, or at a door, and would signal an alarm with the entrance of one bearing lycanthropy in its blood. 'Lupin is not going to thank Snape for this.' Shacklebolt realized. 'When shop-owners started using that charm on their doors, life became a hundred times harder for him. …perhaps that had been the whole point.'

'So, Snape's a spellcrafter then…' Shacklebolt mused. 'Why then haven't we been making use of his inventiveness?' He suddenly called to mind the secrecy charm that Snape had placed on his letter. 'He seemed to be offering its use to the Order… but You-Know-Who must know of this talent from the minute Snape presented those charms to the Committee. What manner of horrors has he invented for You-Know-Who?'

With this thought foremost in mind, Shacklebolt hurried through the rest of the information. The man had worked as an apothecary at St. Mungos in 1978, but was rapidly promoted each year, beginning as a novice apothecary on the Third Floor (Potions and Plant Poisoning) before becoming manager of the Brewery Ward the following year. In 1980 he was elevated to the Spell Damage floor above, and a few months before he left St. Mungos to teach at Hogwarts, he had been made an official Healer (despite not having gone through official training. Such had been the way with healers in the last few years of the war, as resources were thin and talent was eagerly picked out.)

There were no records of Snape's Death Eater trial. Dumbledore had gone to lengths to seal the trial records from all but the very highest Ministry officials. Those present at the trial had been limited to any Aurors who were familiar with Snape's Death Eater activities, a few witnesses, the Wizengamot, and Dumbledore himself.

In 1985, more than three years after taking his post as Potions teacher, Severus Snape took a long-distance apprenticeship under a Bulgarian Potion Master, spending the summer and holiday seasons learning under a Master Stoyan Daskalov. Three years after that he gained his official Mastery, and became 'Potions Master', rather than merely 'Potions teacher'. A few centuries ago it had been a necessary requirement for a Hogwarts teacher to have a mastery in their given subject (excepting Divination and DADA, courses which were left to Seers and Aurors), but when various wizarding wars had forged talented wartime wizards, the Hogwarts Board of Governors had found themselves continually relaxing the requirement to accommodate various war heroes, until they finally allowed the Hogwarts Headmaster to select teaching candidates themselves. It said something that Severus Snape had gone out and elevated his official qualifications above any of the Hogwarts teachers. What exactly it said, Shacklebolt could not be sure. Was it an indication that Snape was not happy in his position as teacher, believing himself to be meant for better things? (At this point, Shacklebolt could completely agree with that opinion.) Or perhaps it was simply a desire for further knowledge.

Head up, Shacklebolt came to a decision. 'Snape could be extremely valuable to the Order if we make use of him. But in order to do so, we must be sure we can trust him. Dumbledore's word is not enough. It is now quite important to the war effort to work out exactly who and what Severus Snape is. We have to know. I have to know.'

---

September 9, 1995

Severus Snape

"She's being made what?" Snape stared at his former Transfiguration teacher, dark eyes diluting in barely concealed horror.

He had just returned from his visit with Lucius, when Minerva pulled him aside before he could escape to the dungeon and his marking.

"I'm afraid so, Severus. She called us all to a staff meeting while you were away… and yes, she can call executive staff meetings now. I can't say I'm surprised that the Ministry wants to go beyond just reshaping the Defence Against the Dark Arts… but now…" her voice trailed off, and she looked at him grimly. "It's quite straightforward, really. In fact…" she paused, going over to her desk and picking up the morning's paper, which she offered Snape. "It's all here."

Snape snatched it without ceremony, and quickly scanned it, a growl forming in the base of his throat. He swallowed, composed his face, and relaxed his clenched fists. Lucius hadn't warned him about this! "Well." He said softly, managing to sound quite unperturbed. "I suppose there is nothing for us fellow educators to do but prepare for this 'exciting new phase in the Ministry's plan' to what? Oh yes, hand the Wizarding world over to the Dark Lord on a silver platter."

Minerva snorted. "It beggars belief how stupid Cornelius Fudge is."

Snape tossed the paper aside. "Stupid? Yes. But he is also a coward and extremely weak-willed. I'm afraid the handiwork of Lucius Malfoy is quite clear in this development. He's been whispering in Fudge's ear for months now, and the fool is playing straight into the Dark Lord's hands. You must be careful, Minerva." He turned to look straight at the old Scottish witch.

She raised a steely eyebrow. "I should be careful, should I? And what about you, young man? Hasn't the Ministry been out for your blood ever since Dumbledore strongarmed them into releasing you into his care? I should think they'd consider this Inquisitor-ship a marvellous opportunity to cast you from Hogwarts and into their loving arms."

Snape turned cold at Minerva's cutting words. From the beginning, she'd never fully trusted him, but then, back then, she'd known him when he was a creepy, angry teenager with a penchant for dark and grizzly curses. "You think like an old woman." His tone was glacial. "That was sixteen years ago." And I've changed since then, you old crone. He silently thought.

She quirked her lips into a sly smile, knowing she had got to him. "You mistake me, Severus. They don't just resent you for evading Azkaban. They resent you for being sheltered by Dumbledore. If Albus's situation continues…" her voice trailed off, but he didn't fail to catch what she oh so delicately implied.

"I'm sure you would be devastated on my account." Snape sneered, turning to leave her office.

"In any case, we should all be wary of Umbridge." The Gryffindor Head of House continued, as if she hadn't noticed Snape's tone. "Give her no reason to complain of our… teaching methods." Here she tilted her head pointedly at him.

Irritated, he needled her back. "Or of our student's academic quality?" It was greatly to Snape's smug satisfaction that his Potions students, despite their terror and hatred of him, were consistently churning out more Os and Es than they had ever done in Slughorn's day. Although few had ever grasped the delicately intricate nature of potion making, having him as a teacher had taught them to at least take the subject seriously. 'More seriously', he thought spitefully, 'than Minerva's silly little class. Turning mice into teacups is hardly an artform.'

"Hah." She harrumphed indignantly. "At least my students enjoy Transfiguration. The number of first years I've had to comfort, sobbing after their first Potions class." She shook her head, a serious look of reproach glinting in her eyes beneath the banter of it all. She always did hate it when he picked on her little lioncubs… which was, these days, with increasing regularity.

"Minerva, you flatter me. I must remove myself before you make me blush." He snarked, before turning to leave.

"The day you blush, Professor Severus Snape, will be a cold day in hell." She called just as he closed the door firmly behind him.

Snape spent the rest of the weekend holed up in his quarters, using the excuse of marking, when the reality was as simple as him not wanting to have to look into a human face. It was a common desire in any introvert, but unfortunately for Snape, he usually could only indulge such a yearning over the weekend.

In the privacy of his dark chambers, he set to devising the next stages of his plan to win over some small part of the Order's trust.

The idea was to garner allies. For the first few months, he hadn't believed it would ever be possible. But since the Patronus incident, he'd definitely noticed a shift in the attitude towards him. He congratulated himself for acting so swiftly upon the drop in Snape-hating, for he was certain that Lupin would now actively put in an effort to support him within the Order. It would be a very mild and passive form of support, as it was coming from Lupin, but like water upon stone, the wolf's guilty remonstrations would, hopefully, begin to wear down the Order's opinions. Snape would never say it out loud (for that would defeat the purpose) but Lupin was not the cowardly prefect he used to be. He definitely felt ashamed of what a milksop he'd been as a schoolboy, and felt the need to make up for it behaving by kindly towards 'Severus' (it used to be 'Snape' or occasionally, when prodded by his friends 'Snivelly'.) Thus targeting Lupin as the first 'ally' was only logical.

Next, Snape had turned his focus to Kingsley Shacklebolt, who, next to himself and Dumbledore, was certainly the most intelligent member of the Order. He also had that certain streak of Slytherin cunning that is often found in the more active Ravenclaws- a man like that would see Snape for what he was. An extremely useful tool that just had to be properly used in order to unlock great things. Sending him the letter with his own unique charm was just a taste… something to intrigue the seemingly unflappable Auror. Snape sent the letter off shortly upon leaving Minerva's chamber.

And the next target?

Why, Alastair Moody himself! The man who, out of all the Order (next to Sirius Black, of course) trusted Snape the least. The man who hated nothing more than Death Eaters. If his own mother bore the Dark Mark, he'd have her hunted down and locked up in Azkaban. There was no witch or wizard less likely to trust Snape than he… (again, except Black, but who cared about him?) so that made him the perfect candidate for Snape's manipulations. No one ever said that the Slytherin's mind didn't work in strange and wonderful ways.

So, enterprising upon his plan's third and most difficult phase, Snape threw himself into the theory of a new invention. He'd been thinking about the concept for some time, but had always been too distracted by work and other projects to give it his full attention. But, if he could complete it… it would be very special indeed. 'This should make that grizzled old Auror pause for breath.' A spell to detect the Imperious! Such an accomplishment would defeat one of the curse's main purposes, and render useless Voldemort's greatest political weapon. Giving such an invention over to the Auror would be so great show of good faith that Moody would be forced to show grudging respect to Dumbledore's 'tame Death-Eater'.

It had taken many years during the First Wizarding War for people to realize just how destructive the Imperious could be to society at large, and it was not until the war's end that its full effects became evident. Many spellcrafters and Dark Art Defence experts had put their mind to tackling the curse's effects- indeed, for not the work of a one Eliza Sophroney, there would not have been an available counter for the curse until its purpose was completed. But once the war was over, people breathed a sigh of relief, believing that there could never be another Voldemort. For over a decade, the war had raged, but when it ended, when people stared around at the destruction around them, their thoughts were only to rebuild. 'It is the war to end all wars.' They had said. So, no one gave the Imperious another thought. Thus, it remained an Unforgivable; an evil, foreboding curse that all but the darkest feared to touch. 'Let it keep its power.' They thought. 'No one today would dare use it.' But now? Snape cracked a humourless smile, as he stared intensely down onto his desk, fingers, tight with energy, pressing into his skull. Now men were being thrown in jail for actions they had not freely done. Soon it would be worse. Fathers would murder sons, unwilling scapegoats would take the blame for the actions of another, and the Ministry would be bent to Voldemort's will, bent like the boughs of a willow.

It could be done. Snape knew that he could do it. But… to release such a monumental achievement, without his own name affixed? He was, after all, supposed to be Voldemort's loyal servant. No, he could claim none of the credit, it was a risk enough as it stood. But to cut Voldemort from an easy victory over the Ministry? It would be almost worth discovery. At any rate, Snape did not yet allow himself to long contemplate such dizzy heights. For now, demonstrating his loyalty to Mad-eye Moody would do nicely.

Now, if only he could figure out the curse's phytogenic pattern without having to resort to personally committing Imperious… that would hardly recommend him to the Auror. But, oh, very well. Snape summoned his owl and raised his wand.

He was a Death Eater after all.

"Imperious."

Monday morning found Snape dragging himself from the dungeons to the Main Hall, desperately trying not to look as if he were recovering from a hangover. He knew he should have paused to eat and sleep over the weekend… but it had all been so fascinating! He now was close to understanding the exact effect that the Imperious had on the brain, wrapping its influence over the brain's layer of cortex. Ms. Sophronay's work had been beneficial to his research, but did not properly explore the way in which the curse worked upon the brain's impulse patterns… in fact, he was almost certain that over time, exposure to the Imperious curse caused the brain's surface matter to thin, thus making one more open to mental magic like suggestive charms and Confundos. Despite the fact that he worked without pause for nearly 36 hours, the given result was certainly worth it all. 'Yes, yes, it was definitely worth it', he told himself as he swayed, zombie-like, to his seat at the Head Table.

Without saying a word to any of his fellow staff members, he poured himself a steaming goblet of coffee, breathing in its warm, bitter aroma. He was just about to put it to his lips when his senses suddenly screamed with irritation.

"Hem, hem."

It took every last skerrick of his self-control not to release a rather flavourful expletive. Snape had to instead settle for taking a deep, calming sip of coffee, gritting his teeth, and hissing in a tone of deep displeasure, "Yesssss?"

Dolores Umbridge, catching his irate tone, pursed her flabby lips, and once again cleared her throat. "Severus, I recall you being absent at my staff meeting on Saturday, so perhaps you have not yet heard of my new… position."

"I did not give you permission to call me by my first name, Inquisitor." Snape knew his tone held a lot more bite than it ought, but he was tired! Every Hogwarts teachers knew not to interrupt him during his morning coffee on any day, and on this morning, his pre-coffee condition was especially serious.

However, a beam merely crossed her flat little face. "Ah, so you have heard." She simpered. "I have to say, Minister Fudge has done me great honour in this task… but it will not be easy, cleaning up this… mess."

"Mess?" Snape fought to keep his voice low. Somehow it just came out as threatening instead.

"Oh, Hogwarts' atrocious condition nothing to do with you, I'm sure, my dear Severus."

"Snape, not Severus." He repeated flatly.

"Oh, very well, if you wish, Snape." She batted her lashes at him, and he strove not to let his revulsion rise to his features. "But Severus is just such a… handsome name."

'It figures. The only woman to ever be interested in me is even uglier than myself.' He thought, quickly averting his horrified gaze… which, as his luck would have it, landed right into Minerva's smirking face. She had heard every word, and he could see she had no intention of helping him out.

"As I was saying…" Umbridge floated a pudgy paw over to his wrist, which he quickly moved under the table. "You should have no reason to be concerned. Lucius Malfoy has always said you are the best teacher in Hogwarts, a rare departure from Hogwarts' usual stock of teachers." Here she turned a quick and disdainful glance towards Flitwick.

Snape shuddered as she cast him a toothy smile. "I have no doubt that your… performance will be exemplary..." she added coyly.

That did it.

He got up so fast that his thighs knocked against the table, sending beakers of coffee and pumpkin juice swaying. "If you will excuse me, Madame. I have lessons I must prepare you."

Recognizing his escape for what it was, a little 'V' appeared between her brow. "Very well, just remember, in a few days' time, I shall drop in to observe some of your lessons."

"Don't put yourself out on my account, please." He muttered to himself, still clutching his coffee to his chest, breakfast uneaten.

Apparently Umbridge could hold a grudge. The nerve of the woman, taunting him in his own class! And in front of Potter, at that. Strange, though… he'd have thought the boy would be more eager to see him squirm. In fact, based on his expression, he seemed to be a little confused… but from what Snape had heard, Umbridge was close to stealing his position as most hated teacher. Perhaps the boy could not decide who was worse. Still, the dunderhead was so distracted that he ruined his potion. Snape hoped the punishment he gave the boy would restore him to 'most hated teacher' in Potter's mind. 'After all', Snape thought, 'I have worked very hard to gain such a position.'