The Pitfalls of Being an Insufferable Know-it-all

Four

That night, I steeled myself and went out to buy myself a copy of the Evening Prophet, fully well knowing what I would find on the front page. I was to be proved right. The Ministry had issued a press release in time for the evening edition regarding the outcome of the meeting. I read through it feeling my anger swell hotly with each word.

The statement alluded to concerns over the reliability of my survey, suggesting wider studies were needed before anything definite could be established. There was, of course, a caveat which went along the lines that they 'took seriously' and 'would deal' with any issues that arose. My name wasn't specifically mentioned, but to me that was irrelevant—wasn't going to make any difference. Those who knew of my involvement would see it as a firm slap in my face.

I returned home and sat at my kitchen table, upon which I had all my survey notes and details spread out. For the longest time I just stared at it. Part of me was still struggling to reconcile the events of the day — I was filled with disquiet and uncertainty. I had a feeling the Ministry had it right. People would forget, given time. For the majority, something else would take focus. And maybe even this rhetorical posturing would be enough.

I thought of those people protesting for the sake of the Augureys, and wonder if they and other like-minded people would keep pushing for more concrete answers. But then, I wondered where these people had been all the time the Augureys have been in decline. It seemed to me this might be where my work would begin—ensuring the press, and those who professed to care, did not forget.

Something else was also bothering me; my future. After all, I could not see it continuing at the Ministry for much longer. I wasn't sure I wanted to remain a part of something that I so vehemently disagreed with. And while I professed to be a trouble-maker—always seeking change and progress—I was never so deluded as to imagine I could single-handedly change the very ethos of a whole bureaucracy. At this point, I was beginning to feel it prudent to consider my efforts might be better spent elsewhere.

Despite these worries about my future prospects, I knew I'd not be leaving without first putting right the Ministry, the public, and Snape. I just had to figure out how I would achieve this aim. Even feeling as unsettled as I did, part of me flared to life at having a goal to set myself. Nothing suits me better.

I walked into the office the following day, hoping to make it to my desk without incident, but, of course, everyone was anticipating my arrival. They all eyed me when I entered; some probably gloating inwardly at my apparent failure; some wary that I might kick off. Someone did have the front to say, with a wry smile: 'Saw the Prophet; hard luck, Granger.'

I'd barely sat down before the boss stuck his head around the door and called me into his office. I grit my teeth at his predictability and followed him inside.

'Granger,' he said affably, closing the door shut. 'We missed you yesterday; what happened?'

'I was unwell; I needed to go home early,' I replied as evenly as I could. 'I'm sorry if that caused you any inconvenience.'

I allowed my distaste to show as he turned his back and crossed to his chair.

'Well, I did need to speak to you, actually, but… You're here, now, so no matter.'

'Oh, is this about the article in the Prophet?' I asked plainly. He could easily have Floo-called me. The humiliation would have been even more acute had I really only found out through reading the paper. Or, imagine if I'd walked into the office, not having read the article? The embarrassment probably would have killed me.

'Yes…' he answered slowly. 'We have decided more information is needed on the problems you've identified, before we can act.'

'What more is needed? The facts are clear enough… aren't they?'

'Well… yes, yes, of course, we recognise how serious the situation is, and that is why we want to take our time and consider carefully the right solution. Can't rush into these things, you know.'

He chuckled; and I fought not to issue a bitter laugh.

'Right; what would you like me to do?'

I admit, making him squirm was some comfort, at least; cold, but still comfort.

'Actually, Granger, we're taking you off this…'

'Excuse me?' I exclaimed in perfect surprise.

'Yes; you see, we're going to let those really in know handle this, for the best results…'

'Severus Snape, perhaps?'

He faltered. 'Snape? No, no; we'll commission some uninterested parties… Only way to do it, don't you think?'

His smiling face made me want to grasp my wand and hex him. I knew they'd be commissioning no one, and I wanted to shout this out to him. They'd release some carefully worded announcements designed to give the impression of action, and then when enough time passed, they'd simply let the issue fizzle into the ether.

Instead of putting this to him, which I knew would not be the best idea in the world, I breathed in, unclenched my fists, and put on my disappointed face. 'I really would have liked to see this work through to the conclusion, sir,' I responded, knowing he'd expect some objection from me. 'Could I liaise with the investigative team you employ?'

'Well, er, we're very busy here, Granger; I'm not sure I'll be able to spare you.'

A likely story.

'Actually, sir,' I said, 'I've been thinking about taking some of my holiday leave, preferably to begin as soon as possible.'

Technically, I should have booked leave in advance, but I felt that with recent events in mind, he would be more than happy to grant me a week off if it meant I was off the scene.

I was right.

He put a thoughtful expression on his face. 'I shouldn't really be doing this, Granger, you know,' he cautioned with a smile. 'But seeing how hard you've worked lately, I don't mind authorising it at short notice.'

'You're too kind.'

The urge to hex him was foremost in my mind at that point. Nevertheless, I managed to leave without incident. I knew what everyone would think at me taking time off. They'd think I was smarting injuriously over the fate of my pet project. Well, they could think me as vain and as self-important as they like. What did it matter to me? All I cared was that I now had time to seriously set about planning my… Not revenge. That indicates something rather more self-serving. And while I can't deny I wanted bring one over on them, it was still about ensuring the right action for those animals in danger.

My day didn't get any better. At lunchtime I received a letter from none other than Severus Snape. As soon as I saw the familiar handwriting, my anger rose once more to the fore. I actually think it was his behaviour that had upset me more than my superiors in the Ministry. Although I'd never, ever, enjoyed a cordial relationship with the man, I suppose I'd, naively, still expected more. We'd fought in the same war, after all; had that shared experience. To me, it had meant something.

But then I felt silly and sentimental for imaging it so.

I ripped open the seal viciously and felt my mouth hang open in immediate astonishment. The man's completely unashamed effrontery seemed to know no bounds.

Miss Granger, it said,

No doubt you've now heard what the Ministry has planned regarding the matter we discussed. Unfortunately, all they wanted to hear from me was reassurance the concerns identified were misplaced. Naturally, I could not give such assurance, but we should be unsurprised they're determined to take their own path.

I assume you will still be involved in proceedings. If you stumble across anything you desire clarification on, my assistance is available to you.

Severus Snape

I stared, incensed, and before I could think twice, I flew to my feet, the letter crumpled in my fist, and I marched from the office straight through to the Atrium. I only stopped walking when I had to Apparate.

I found myself in Edinburgh. As much as I wanted to bide my time and leave them all with a large smattering of egg on their faces, the ire I felt was so potent, I couldn't stop myself. I pushed open the door to the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers and rushed up the steps.

'Hello?' Albert called out in confusion.

I ignored him, my heart pounding so loudly I barely heard him. I stamped along the corridor until I reached the door I required. Without thinking, I grabbed the handle and wrenched the door open. I stepped inside, taking in a breath ready to unleash my diatribe…

And then I faltered. The room was empty. Snape was nowhere to be seen.

The wind was taken from my sails quite comprehensively, and my shoulders sagged, possibly in relief, really. Had he been there, I'm sure what might have unfolded wouldn't have been for the best. I got my breath under control and left, rushing back outside quickly in case the man was lurking about in the building somewhere. It was stupid to think I could face him at that time and emerge victorious.

'Shall I tell Severus you called?' Albert asked when I appeared back in the entrance hall.

I froze. 'Er, no, thank you; I shall simply Owl him.'

I hurried down the stairs, hoping to escape quickly, but the old man seemed eager to talk.

'He's travelled down to Snowdonia today, tending to business. He may not get your Owl until tomorrow. Shall I take a message?'

I managed a small smile for him. 'No; thank you.'

I Apparated back to the Ministry, feeling not a little foolish, it must be said. For the remainder of the day, I forced myself to concentrate on the tasks piling up in my in-tray, while waiting for the time to tick down so I could leave and go home. I'm not sure that's a frame of mind I'd ever previously indulged in.

By now, I was even more determined to wrong-foot the Ministry, as well as the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers after that letter from their leader. Intermittently, throughout the day, I picked it back up and read through it again, shaking my head in disbelief. He bloody well knew I was not to be part of the proceedings any longer because he'd bloody suggested it. It was so infuriating, every time I read it, that I had to consciously work to calm myself down.

And that offer of further help… I just had no words to describe the effect upon me; it rendered me speechless, as the cliché goes.

When I was finally free of my duties, I went home and spent yet more hours into the evening planning; working out the best avenue for me to obtain evidence the Ministry were wilfully ignoring what was in front of them. To prove they felt no moral obligation to protect our indigenous species; only a mercenary desire to save a few galleons and protect their slipshod, inadequate policies.

I also had to work out how I could implicate the Society. After all, I had no doubt Snape could wheedle himself out of being implicated in any accusation of neglect. He could quite easily shift the responsibility onto the Ministry, because there was no rule or regulation requiring him to act. But after his performance, I wanted to ensure everyone know his professional piety was significantly lacking. Bitter of me, certainly, but I considered it would only be the truth.

I withdrew the memory of my discussion with him, and even that of my eavesdropping at the Ministry, and placed them within a phial. If push came to shove, I thought I might have to make these moments public. If I no one believed me, well then, he could simply implicate himself. They all could, in fact. The reporters at the Prophet, I knew, would have bitten my hand off for such information. Indulging the Prophet so gamely was not something I'd enter into lightly, however.

I had my map before me, and I studied it, looking to see where I might be best trying my luck. No one place particularly jumped out at me. I wouldn't start with the Monkshood problem; I believed Snape to be right regarding St. Mungo's. My eyes landed on the Snowdonia National Park and I scowled at it as an image of that awful man entered my head. I decided that, clearly, he was a man influenced by power—of having power. Why this observation should have come to me so late in day, after years of his tyrannical behaviour in the classroom, I simply do not know.

And why, after knowing the details of his triple-agency, I thought him any fraction of reliable, well, that was definitely folly on my part.

As I stared mutinously at the area on the map, I suddenly noticed something that caused me to chill slightly with uncertainty. Marked within the Snowdonia mountain range I had one of the largest colonies of Augureys in the country.

Augureys.

Augureys in decline.

And Snape, according to Albert, was "tending to business" in the area.

Tending to business.

It was, of course, rather a big leap for me to suddenly imagine Snape as being involved in the illegal exporting of Augurey feathers for money. I wasn't sure I wanted to go that far; I'm fully prepared to consider the concept of a coincidence. But I admit, as the idea planted, it became harder to shift.

Because… was all that talk about promoting responsibility amongst potioneers, about making those irresponsible accountable, just a bluff to put me off any potential scent? What reason, otherwise, did he have to misinform the Ministry? I suppose it's arguable he is just another person who has come to rely upon the status quo, but when you have the facts as I do, it certainly provides food for thought.

His offer of further assistance to me… Was that simply a subtle nudge for me to keep him in the loop, should I discover anything?

It was a nice little conspiracy theory, I admit, and while I had absolutely no evidence to support such fancies, I wondered whether it might be a good idea to start my investigations with Snape himself. Perhaps, even, call his bluff.

As far as Snape and the Ministry were concerned, I knew nothing of their meeting. So the question then, I felt, was how would they expect me to react? What would they expect me to do? My boss was probably convinced; he probably thought I wished time to get over my hurt pride. Snape, however, might anticipate being faced with my indignation and further appeals on my part for his help.

Calling his bluff seemed a good option, then. It would be interesting to see if he tried to slither his way out of further involvement with me. The only concern would be whether I'd be able to keep my cool or not.

In any case, I had nothing much to lose. The next morning, I Apparated to Edinburgh and went into the Society building. Albert stood up behind his desk upon spotting me.

'Good morning,' he greeted. 'Back again?'

'Yes,' I replied, trying not to sound too uncomfortable, even though I felt it keenly. 'Is Mr Snape—'

'Not here, I'm afraid, lass.' His moustache quivered into a small smile. 'I received a note from his last night detailing his plan to return to Norway today, on account of his business here being concluded.'

I nodded circumspectly. So that's the game he's going to play, I thought to myself. Put hundreds of miles between himself and the problem.

'I see; how unfortunate of me to have missed him.

'He's always very busy,' said the old man, with something akin to pride in his voice.

I looked at him, then; really looked at him. 'I wonder if you might be able to help me, Albert? May I call you Albert?'

'You may; and, of course, I shall surely help you if I can, Miss Granger.'

'Hermione,' I said with a smile. 'Is there somewhere—?'

'Oh, yes, come on through.'

He directed me through the door behind his desk, and beyond was a small sitting room with a fire burning in the grate.

'Will you have tea?' he queried. 'Tibby has started her… shift, I believe.' He shook his head to himself as he called for the elf. 'Still tickles me every time,' he muttered.

I was unsure if he was aware that I was the cause of his disbelief, but with a view to having an amiable chat with him, I let the remark slide unnoticed.

'How long have you worked here, Albert?' I asked casually after the tea was brought.

'Not a great many years, my dear; Severus took me on when he took over as presiding officer.'

I was pleased. Already the conversation had hit upon what I truly wanted to discuss.

'Yes, Professor Snape, he—' I broke off and gave a chuckle. 'Listen to me, I'm still thinking of him as my teacher, sometimes!'

The old man smiled appreciatively.

'He was very helpful when I came to him the other day about my research studies. Unfortunately, my bosses at the Ministry have cut me off at the knees. Have you seen in the newspapers?'

Albert nodded sympathetically.

'Still, maybe they have a point, after all,' I continued evenly. 'And with Professor Snape going to back to Norway… He obviously doesn't think there's anything to be concerned about.'

'Very true, Hermione; I wouldn't worry yourself over this. I have every faith in Severus's judgement. He's always out researching something or other; he probably knows where to find the most hidden of Augurey nests—if anyone would notice something sinister, he would.'

He raised his teacup. 'You mark my words, young lady.'

There could be no doubt of that.

'Not good for you to fret over matters beyond your control.'

I managed a smile. 'You're right, of course.'

'Now then, as much as I could sit and talk all day, I do have duties to attend…'

I got to my feet. 'My apologies for keeping you… Just one more thing, a Reading Room was mentioned to me… Is it available for public use?'

'Very much so; take a right at Severus's office and use the stairs to the first-floor landing. The Reading Room will be right before you.'

I thanked him and made my way back to the front hall and then up the steps. I followed the deep-red carpeted passage until Snape's office came into view.

"Probably knows where to find the most hidden of Augurey nests…"

I didn't doubt Albert in the least, and anyway, hadn't Snape admitted as much himself? He must know that my survey was reliable. He must know that Augurey numbers were being threatened. But did this mean his avoidance of the issue was simply wilful disregard, or was it in order to protect his, someone's, involvement.

I thought of the files he'd taken out when he'd spoken of the measures he, and the Society, had taken to punish those caught committing infractions. How could I say this was conclusive either way? For one thing, I never saw inside the files myself. For another, even if these cases were true, they'd be the perfect cover for deflecting suspicions aimed at his person.

To my inward astonishment, I glanced down to see my hand reaching towards the door handle. Immediately, I curled it back to me, folding my arms and sinking my chin onto my chest.

Was I really accusing this man of being a hypocrite? Of the worst kind? A criminal, even?

That was when I felt really silly. I marched away from the office, ridiculing myself for even contemplating going inside and rummaging through the contents. I rushed up the stairs, telling myself to stop making my ideas so outlandish.

Because, yes, while the hurt I still felt at being so coldly and methodically trampled over was acute, and while I did not understand Snape's decision to say one thing and then do another, I decided I had to give him the benefit of the doubt.

At this point, either stupidly, or perceptively, I think I still preferred to trust him. Perhaps not to trust him to do what was needed, but at least to behave within some semblance of propriety and legality.

That, for the time being, would be the principle I'd subscribe to while executing my next moves.

Until, of course, there became reason for me to believe otherwise.

AN: Thanks for the reviews : )