AN: Wow, sometimes I surprise myself. Another chapter for you my lovelies! This one's really short, but I didn't want to combine it with the first day of classes.

Thank you so much reviewers! That's what got me motivated to write this.

Chapter 3: The Great Hall

I sunk down lower in my chair. This caused Quirrell's head to thunk to the back of the headrest. I smirked. He deserved that for the incident in Diagon Alley, and it was well worth the strange looks my fellow staff members were giving us.

After Quirrell hastily apparated away, we landed in the middle of some suburb called "Little Whinging." Some horse-faced muggle screamed at the sight of us and ran into her house, blubbering about promises and freaks. Even in this form, I was clearly powerful enough to terrify muggles and their like. Yes, it was my ire that reduced her to tears. What else could it possibly be?

With great effort Quirrell pried his head off of the chair. I sighed and closed my eyes. Quirrell had proven particularly incompetent at third year defense material. He was such a procrastinator. I had given him seven days(one for each year), and he spent two of them sleeping!

It just wasn't proper teacher material.

This is one of the many things I shall change when I am the defense professor and maybe Dark Lord of Magical Britain.

Quirrell jerked his head forward again. At last, the Sorting was over.

"So," drawled an oily voice, "defense professor Quirrell? I didn't think you had it in you. Of course, there is only one who I would trust with that position."

Ah Snape, still defending my dreams even when he doesn't know I'm here. It pleased me immensely to see(or hear) such loyalty from a man living under Dumbledore's thumb for the past ten years.

"I w-w-was the best-t-t option," Quirrell stammered out.

"That was a disaster," I declared, "Quirrell, can't you keep your mouth shut? I have enough problems already without you making me look bad."

Snape's impressively developed passive aggression made several acrid remarks which my minion had attempted to respond to, but failed because he kept stuttering.

"B-but he d-d-doesn't know I serve y-you," Quirrell foolishly remarked, standing up for himself. As proud as I was that he learned self-confidence, I was disappointed that I was the first one he used it on.

"Don't underestimate Dumbledore," I warned.

"Dumbledore?"

"Yes, Dumbledore!" I snapped, "He is all-knowing. If you keep this up he might fire you."

Dumbledore wouldn't fire Quirrell; there were simply not enough job applicants, but I wasn't about to tell him that. My minions work better under pressure. Also, I detested that stutter.

I let Quirrell sit in shame for a few more minutes.

"Are you ready for tomorrow's lesson?" I asked. Even I am not so cruel as to deprive a man of teaching. Quirrell insisted that he could do this on his own, and I was inclined to give him the chance. He was, after all, a Ravenclaw. I would have been a bit more concerned if he was a Hufflepuff.

"Of course."