A/N. Remember I was planning on making sure that SSS1 was set during the fifth book and SSS2 during the sixth book. The plan is that instead of having SSS1 finish at the Christmas holidays portion of book five it will instead finish at the summer holidays between books five and six and therefore this story will be beginning not in the winter after Christmas but in the summer of Harry and Co's sixth year at Hogwarts.
Also this chapter has been redone and changed as well as a bit more being added to it.
Chapter Two: The War that must be won.
Snape gathered his secret "William the Wizard" documents- reviews, articles in both Wizarding and Muggle papers, etc- and placed them in a magically locked box where he kept things when he wanted them to be secret, safe, or both. Then he locked the door behind him as he wouldn't be back there until later that afternoon as he had a couple of free periods and had planned to go into Hogsmeade for some things; you could never be too careful he'd learnt when his stores had been raided three years ago for a polyjuice potion, and hurried on his way, guided by his grumbling stomach. Although, he thought ruefully as he raced along the corridor, his robe billowing out behind him, if the food was of the same standard as lately he'd not be missing much. He decided that after lunch he would draft a suitably scathing and intimidating letter to the house elf population of the school informing them they were officially on notice to improve their cooking and if things didn't improve within a week he'd be dragging the lot of them by their ridiculously oversized ears to the department in London. If that didn't scare them into taking their usual pride in their work nothing would. For the first time he wondered whether the elves had been frightened into their sloppy standard of work. Death eaters might- somehow- try to recruit them on behalf of Voldemort. Voldemort would be smart enough to know that food equaled energy and wizards and witches without much energy wouldn't be as likely to oppose him as they might otherwise be. But if that was the case wouldn't he, Snape, know? As far as Voldemort believed Snape was not only a committed Death Eater but also his insider in the school.
Snape stepped outside and took a deep breath of the crisp, fresh air as he hurried towards the Owlerry- despite his hunger he was going to send the two letters promptly and then go and enjoy his lunch.
As he walked briskly up the hillside he wouldn't admit it out loud but part of him was going to the Owlery not just to send the two letters but also to make sure that all the owls hadn't died of some mysterious ailment thus delaying his acceptance letter into the International Wizarding Academic Association of Potions. For a moment Voldemort was far away from his thoughts as he listened to that little niggling voice in his mind whispering that he might not be accepted. He tried to shake it off. Then he realised that he hadn't put the Muggle magazines back into the magically locked box he tended to keep things he wanted to keep secret, safe, or both, in. He didn't have time to go back to his office before lunch but he doubted any student would be brave enough- or silly enough- to go into his study and go through his things.
Snape sent two owls off with the letters he needed to be sent and as he turned back to make his way to the Great Hall and lunch he wondered whether he hadn't been quite as reverent to the Dark Lord as he'd been instructed to do by the Order of the Phoenix and made a quick decision that he'd be extra careful and extra deferential in the future. He also wondered whether the fact that he had played the main role in a muggle movie made any difference. "William the Wizard" had been filmed before Snape had begun his dangerous mission to infiltrate Voldemort's happy band of followers. He, along with the other members of the Order, had debated long into the night one meeting about how Snape would justify his acting role to his Dark Lord. Snape hadn't shown it, at least he hoped he hadn't, but he'd been secretly worried- if he couldn't justify the whole thing to himself how could he ever hope to fool Voldemort, a master in leglimency? As it turned out the various stories they came up with never needed to be deployed- Voldemort himself had congratulated Snape on having the insight to integrate himself to the muggle world should they somehow prove useful in the upcoming war. He'd commended him on believing, no knowing, he was back while the Ministry spent so much time trying to undermine Potter's word and Cidric Diggory's death and deny that Lord Voldemort could ever return. Snape was, Voldemort said, one of his most loyal subjects and always had been.
Then, back inside, Snape skidded around a corner and then collided solidly with a soft warm body before falling to the ground. Embarrassed he scrambled to his feet and brushed the dirt off his robes and then glared down at the person he'd collided with, never for a second entertaining the thought it may have been his fault.
Professor Trelawney was on the floor, her glasses askew on her nose, her face blotchy red with tears. Not meeting his eyes she got up gingerly. "You should look where you're going Severus- especially at that speed. You could hurt someone." She said shakily. She dusted off her robes and her bangles clanked loudly. A ray from the midday sun coming through a nearby window squarely hit her emerald sequined cloak and mauve coloured- also sequined- shawl and glinted sharply.
Snape raised an eyebrow. "Now surely since you claim to see into the future you should have known I was coming along the corridor late for lunch and we were about to run into each other and moved out of the way." He said coldly. And the sight of her tear stained face didn't move him at all, rather as a matter of fact people who cried just annoyed him; besides public displays of affection, infuriating people and annoying Muggles, public displays of emotion made him most uncomfortable.
Trelawney's face went bright red. "Yes, yes, no need to be nasty." She said hastily. "Actually Severus I am glad I ran into you because I wanted to talk to you about something."
"Oh?" Snape replied nonchalantly. He began to walk again towards the hall and Trelawney fell into step beside him, making Snape sigh inwardly. He didn't really like, or dislike, any one of the staff members at the school more or less than any other but the divination professor was pretty low on his list of likeable people. Not because she was particularly offensive but more because he firmly believed divination to be a complete waste of the student's time. The subject was no doubt one of the most imprecise branches of magic and only a few wizards and witches genuinely processed the gift. While supporters might- and did- argue that because it was an inexact science it required innate gifts, those opposed thought the subject was not only irrelevant but fraudulent. Snape thought that the students would be far better off learning things which would actually be of some use to them in the post-Hogwarts wizarding world. Yes it would be nice to be able to tell the future but only if one really could do so and as far as most of the teachers at Hogwarts were aware Sybill Trelawney had only ever made two accurate predictions in her entire life despite her self-proclaimed title of a "seer" and numerous references to how the same blood flows through her veins as it did through the veins of her great-great-grandmother, the celebrated seer, Cassandra Trelawney.
The other problem was that whenever he encountered the woman he could not help but be reminded of what had happened sixteen years ago. Whilst in an interview with Dumbledore Trelawney had fallen into a trance and Snape overheard her saying "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..." His response had been to immediately rush to let his Dark Lord know what he'd heard and the result had been Voldemort's attack on the Potter family, believing Harry was the child named. The irony of the fact that he had, unwittingly, led to the death of the one woman he'd ever really loved had never escaped Snape and consequently he tried to avoid Trelawney more so than any other teacher in the castle. The shame and guilt had plagued him ever since and it made his feelings towards Harry Potter incredibly complicated. While ninety percent of him despised Potter because he was, in Snape's opinion, James reincarnated and had many bad qualities; there was also the ten percent which had vowed to keep the boy safe, in honor of Lily Potter. Dumbledore was the only person to know anything of this.
He realised that the woman was speaking and tuned back in to hear her say "I wanted to warn you."
Snape bit his lip to avoid smiling. "Going to die am I? Terrible and gruesome death I presume Sybill?"
Every single year, without fail, Trelawney would predict the death of one of her students. And every year her students would be worriedly looking over their shoulders for any signs of "The Grim", a spectral black dog said to be an omen of death.
"Everybody dies sooner or later Severus- well most people anyway- but it's not my place to tell you when or how suffice-" Trelawney began, looking more than a little bit put out that Snape wasn't taking her warning seriously. It wasn't everyone who got to be warned about something in their near future by a genuine seer was it?
"They do indeed and even if you were able to tell me details about my death I wouldn't want to hear them. I don't find the prospect of knowing exactly when or how I am going to die, knowing too that there is nothing I can do about it, very appealing." Snape interrupted her.
"Suffice to say it will not come as a surprise to you considering the dangerous existence you are living-" Trelawney firmly continued.
Snape's reaction time was lightening quick; he stopped dead and while one hand was reaching out and grabbing the woman's hand to stop her progress, the other one was inside his robes and clutching his wand tightly. "What dangerous existence?" Snape demanded. There were only very few people at Hogwarts who knew about his secret mission- Dumbledore, McGonagall very possibly since she was so close to Dumbledore, and, galling as it were, Potter and his two friends- so to hear Trelawney allude to his "dangerous existence" worried him greatly. It could be that she was under the Imperius Curse and being controlled by the caster, a Death Eater or, worse, Voldemort himself, and so Snape was ready to, at any moment, use a stunning spell and then a stealth sensing spell to detect anyone under magical disguise. Although he thought if anyone in the castle were to work out what had been happening he'd put Trelawney's, Binn's, Flitwick's and Hagrid's names at the bottom of the list.
Trelawney's reaction was to simply gape at Snape. She took a step back from him and hit the wall. "Good Merepeople!" She managed, rubbing her arm where Snape's vice like grip had held it.
"What dangerous existence?" Snape repeated, quietly, slowly and firmly.
"Well mixing in the muggle world of course. With your film." Trelawney replied. She lowered her voice. "And, considering the way things are in our world right now, I can't blame you for being jumpy…I'm exactly the same as you, seeing Death Eaters in every shadow, hypnotized giants trying to kill people who might not be on He-Who-Can't-Be-Named's side, zombies in the cupboard…"
Snape studied her for a second, considering things. Then he gave a stiff nod and dropped his hands back to his sides. "It is indeed a dark and scary time Sybill. We just have to believe that the right side, the good side, will prevail." He started to walk again.
Trelawney fell into step right beside him and he sighed inwardly.
Not once had he slipped up and called Voldemort the "Dark Lord" to anyone opposed to him, nor had he referred to him as Voldemort instead of "Lord Voldemort" or the "Dark Lord" to any Death Eater. He blamed his over-reaction on the fact that he had just been worrying about whether Voldemort completely believed in him.
"Severus I know some scents you could burn in your classroom, study or bedroom to help you relax." Trelawney offered.
"I'll be fine I'm sure." Snape responded. They were nearing the Great Hall and the sounds of students eating, talking and laughing came to them.
"Anyway as I was going to say, I was up in my classroom, just relaxing and working on a piece of knitting I want to enter in the Hogsmeade Fair next month when I suddenly got a premonition about you and naturally it was my duty to come and tell you straight away." Trelawney told him seriously.
"Naturally." Snape muttered.
"Severus things aren't back to normal despite what they might seem like at the moment." She paused to let her words sink in. "There is nothing you can do to stop what is going to happen because the event was put in motion last year and try as we might fate is the master of our destiny. Nonetheless I wanted to tell you, so you'd expect it, because perhaps that might help make it easier on you if you know it is coming-" Professor Trelawney went on in what she felt was her most dramatic voice.
"Listen Sybill," Snape interrupted smoothly as they reached the Great Hall and the smell of pumpkin soup wafted temptingly towards them. "I'd love to hear your prediction, honestly I would, but I'm starving, so hungry I could eat a giant's dog. So I'm going to take a rain check on your…erm….premonition…for the moment. As soon as I get a free moment I'll come and see you though."
Professor Trelawney's eyes clouded over and her bottom lip wobbled. "Severus I'm only trying to help."
"Of course you are Sybill, of course you are. But if I'm not going to die just yet I think your warning can wait until after lunch can't it?" Snape said, resisting the urge to just turn on his heel and go in for lunch. At this rate everyone would be finished before he even got in there! And of course he had absolutely no intention of going to see the woman any time soon for whatever nonsense she'd dreamed up now.
"It can….but it will change your life Severus. Again." Trelawney said, adopting her favourite "mysterious and dark" voice in a last ditch effort to make the man listen to what she had to say. In her heart of hearts she knew she hadn't exactly been overrun with true visions but she knew this one was genuine and wanted to share it so that when it came true she'd be praised for warning the potions master.
"Unless I'm going to win Wiz-Lotto it can wait. Now I'm going to eat and you can do whatever you wish Sybill." Snape said sharply, his temper finally getting the better of him.
He turned to walk away but stopped when Trelawney called after him. "Oh and Severus?"
He didn't turn around but waited for her to finish.
"You should pay especial attention to what you wear. In particular when you go to London next week." Trelawney said.
"I'm not going to London any time soon Sybill. But before I do go I'll make sure to check "Witching Vogue" to make sure my outfit is runway worthy. I'll even have my robes dry-cleaned, maybe I might even wear my dress robes…but that is all moot isn't it since I haven't any plans to go to London any time in the near future. Good day Sybill." Snape said. He strode into the Great Hall irritably.
The Ravenclaw third years were already talking about the end of year play, with the success of last year's event obviously still resoundingly loud in their minds. Snape suppressed a shudder as he thought about the Hogwarts production of the Muggle movie "Titanic." Apparently this year it was going to be something called "Gone With The Wind" and, to make a bad situation just that little bit worse, Dumbledore had already been getting in Snape's ear about doing a guest spot in the play. He explained that the wizarding community needed uniting in these times more than any and that surely Snape's presence alone would make the play even more popular. Snap was of course resisting that. He hadn't even attended the play last time so why would he start now? The answer was simple: he wouldn't!
Someone snickered at Snape's passing. "There he goes, William the Wizard, bet he's late for lunch because he has been out auditioning for every Muggle television program available- from "Spooks" to "Emmerdale", from "Footballer's Wives" to "The Bill".." A girl's voice said.
Snape raised his head a little higher and ignored the speaker. He slipped into his seat next to Professor's McGonagall and Flitwick respectively.
"Any reply from the Association yet? Do you want me to look over your proposal for the Worldwide Potions Conference in May?" McGonagall enquired.
"Not yet Minerva." Snape said airily. He certainly wasn't about to volunteer the fact that the acceptance's non-appearance was extremely worrisome, nor the information that he'd been the recipient of a letter from another association all together and offered a guest speaker role. As for her help in writing his proposal- well, put it this way: even if he were the dimmest Muggle ever to have lived he wouldn't ask her help. "But you know what the mail can be like once the weather begins to turn a bit cooler."
Flitwick gave a squeaky laugh. "Cooler? Severus have you been outside recently? It's lovely Autumn weather." He said.
Snape shrugged. He didn't mention that when he'd gone outside a few minutes ago the weather had been turning quite cool and the threat of storms had been hovering on the horizon. Once tucking in to pumpkin soup with bread, and roast pork and potatoes followed by bread and butter pudding Snape forgot all about the divination teacher's insistence that he listen to her. At least for a little while anyway…
**
After lunch Snape pushed his way out through the students, anxious to get out of the Great Hall before Professor (and he used that term lightly for the woman) Trewlaney could catch up with him and continue bugging him. If she was going to receive a genuine premonition then why couldn't she see the winning number for the annual "Count the Bertie Botts" competition that all wizards over the country eagerly entered, coming up in February? Her cryptic "message from beyond" were the very last thing he needed when it seemed everyone in the castle knew how important his acceptance into the "International Wizarding Academic Association of Potions" was to him. The association was, to potions, what the Dark Lord was to terror.
"Bloody Umbridge! There's no way those morons on Slytherin would have been able to beat us last weekend if Harry was playing!" A Gryffindor student complained to her three companions.
"It's a miracle they're able to walk upright without dragging their hands on the ground let alone play Quidditch." Her Ravenclaw friend agreed. "Darwin would be spinning in his grave."
"Who? Oh, you're talking about Felix Darwent, the famous wizarding fashion designer. I read something about him in "Fashion Monthly" and they compared him to some Muggles- someone Channel or Shanae or whatever, Raphael Versey, and Tilda MarCartey." The third girl, from Hufflepuff, observed knowingly. Then she looked perplexed. "What's Felix got to do with Quidditch?"
The Ravenclaw girl looked resigned. "Never mind. He's a Muggle scientist who has a theory of evolution- selective traits, that kind of thing…" She trailed off when she realised the other two had no idea whatsoever what she was talking about.
Snape cleared his throat loudly and the three girls' heads all whipped around and upon seeing him they blushed guiltily. If he wasn't so full from a nice lunch he might have taken twenty points off each of their houses. "Actually girls Slytherin won because of talent. And mark my words; we'll be taking home the Quidditch Cup this year without a doubt." He said lazily.
Personally Snape thought the one good decision Umbridge had made in her time here was throwing Potter off the Gryffindor Quidditch team. And putting Professor Trelawney and Hagrid- the imbecilic part giant who for some insane reason considering he got kicked out of Hogwarts before finishing was currently teaching Care of Magical Creatures- on probation wasn't a bad thing either. If she could raise the standards of teachers here at Hogwarts Snape would be happy to support her. And then maybe finally he'd take his rightful place as teacher of Defence Against the Dark Arts.
Not surprisingly none of the girls replied. Instead they ducked between students and hurried out of the Great Hall. Irritated Snape followed suit. "Excuse me, professor coming through, excuse me, move it." He called loudly.
Once clear of the mass of students he brushed down his robes with a little more vigor than was necessarily needed. Maybe tomorrow he'd put a set of traffic lights outside the hall after meals. What was the great rush anyway? Usually students weren't so eager to get to class that there was a crush of students struggling to get out the door. Was there something going on that he didn't know about?
A moment later Snape was seated in his dungeon study feeling glad that this was one period where he didn't have to put up with students. Some would say, given Snape's incredible dislike for children, that he probably wasn't in the best profession. In fact some people had said it. However Snape believed that he was the perfect person to be a teacher- children didn't need to be nurtured and babied, they needed to be disciplined and toughened up for the real world. On that note it was time to start thinking about practice OWL's for the fifth years and practice NEWT's for the seventh years. His usual practice was to make the practice exams incredibly tough, so tough that not many students would pass them, and then they'd get to the actual exams which would be a lot easier than they were expecting. The fact that they were usually nerve wracked and freaking out by the time the exams came around was simply a bonus. And every year at least one OWL student and one NEWT student had suffered a breakdown before the exams begun. This year Snape would like to see Granger falter- her perpetual know-all-ness was downright annoying. The fact that she was almost always right was equally as annoying.
There was a sudden crack and a house elf appeared in front of Snape's desk, making Snape jump in fright. "For heavens sake!" He snapped, "Do you have to just appear like that? Whatever happened to knocking or introducing yourself first like polite company would?"
"Dobby is most sorry Professor Snape, sir." The house elf replied, bowing so low his nose scraped along the ground.
"Yes, yes, get up. What do you want elf?" Snape demanded. He was not having a good day. Normally he was not so jumpy but he was on edge about the stupid acceptance and it seemed like people were deliberately trying to startle him.
"Professor Snape has a visitor." Dobby said, twisting his hat in his hands nervously. The fact that the house elves were always wary when speaking to him had not escaped Snape's notice and he thought that was just as it should be.
"And who exactly-" Snape began but with another crack the house elf had disappeared leaving him speaking to thin air. "You better hope the cooking improves around this place- and fast!"