Chapter 2. "Set"
"Senile old geezer," Severus Snape muttered under his breath as he regarded the Headmaster with a baleful glare. He ruthlessly stirred his morning tea, ignoring the hot liquid that sloshed over the sides. Dumbledore was happily eating his oatmeal, blissfully unaware of the Potion master's grumbling…or if he was aware, he gave no sign indicating so. Snape gave a brooding glance down each side of the High Table for some signal that one of his colleagues had heard him. Having provoked no response from his inaudible insults, he turned his comments inward. 'A race? What a buffoon. No wizard in history had done this…and so much the better for it. The old fart had really lost it this time. If he thinks he can have his lemon drops and eat them too, then he is sorely mistaken.
'For one thing, what he was proposing was highly dangerous. Who knows what lies out there? Dumbledore was running a high risk by doing this. The students didn't know the first thing about the Muggle way of life. How did he expect them to travel so far a distance without magic? They didn't even know what an automobile was, let alone a taxi. And what if some Muggle discovers? What if one of the contestants is so desperate, he ruins everything by using magic or letting a Muggle discover what he or she really is? Even though Dumbledore had announced that every team would be marked with a Tracing Charm so that he'd know where each team was at any given time, that didn't make up for the fact that they could still get lost. It's madness. Total and complete madness.
'And then there are the contestants. That over-grown coffee mug had better pick some suitable candidates and not some dunderhead who can't even tie his shoes. What were those infernal teams again? The most athletic was one. Who knows who'll be picked for that team?' Snape was not exactly the type to keep up with the fitness of each Quidditch player in Hogwarts. 'Then there's the smartest team.' He was guessing the Malfoy spawn would be picked. 'And then there's Miss Granger.' Though he was loathe to admit it, she was one of the most intelligent students he had the displeasure of teaching. 'It's likely she'll be partnered with young Mr. Draco. Oh yes. The teacher team…Ye gods. I had almost forgotten. I can only pray that the Soup Bowl of Fire will have some mercy and overlook me.
'Me. What if that diabolical tea-pot spouts my name?' he thought. 'Avada Kedavra would be the quickest. But there's always the Draught of Death to consider. Who knows? I might even use the Muggle way and slit my wrists.' Severus continued to list the ways he would commit suicide until he watched a handful of students approaching the Goblet of Fire before him. He had snapped at his Slytherins last night to submit their names at breakfast, and now he watched as the few who had not yet done so scurry forward with their slips of paper. They hesitantly dropped their parchments in, and jumped when the blue flames leaped higher as it consumed their names.
A few minutes later, after the stragglers had submitted their slips of paper, Albus Dumbledore rose to his feet. Silence issued at once, and the Headmaster needlessly tapped his knife to his glass. "Students, it is my pleasure to let you know that all eligible people have entered into the contest!" He waited for applause and cheers, but the Hall remained silent. "There is one minor change wish I will announce. Due to confusion, and a mistake on my part, the team consisting of two teachers will be removed." The only person who was visibly relieved was the Potions master. "It will be replaced, however, by a team consisting of the physically strongest, with the most physically weak person at Hogwarts. It is entirely separate from the athletic team. This is because all teachers are considered for each team." The only person in the Hall who had been visibly relieved, now looked utterly horrified. "The Goblet of Fire is now reviewing the applicants for suitable matches, and we shall know who is picked by the end of the day. Unfortunately, due to some most unfortunate accidents with the younger forms, the Goblet will be moved into the staff room." Whispers began to circulate around the Hall. "But not to worry! The teams will be posted in the Entrance Hall on the bulletin board at seven o'clock this evening. That is all, now I wish you a pleasant day!" Dumbledore sat down and resumed his meal, and the rest of the Hall was filled with chattering. Snape rose and left the table, heading back down to the dungeons or another stimulating day of classes.
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"I do hope he knows what he's doing," Hermione said as she swung her book bag over her shoulders.
"What do you mean?" Ron asked.
"I'm just saying that I hope Professor Dumbledore has considered all of the risks he's taking by doing this. I mean, it's one thing to hold a race, it's another thing to ban the use of magic."
"Awe, come off it, Herm," Harry said through an exasperated sigh as he caught up with her. "You know he wouldn't allow it if it were dangerous! I'm sure he's taken care of everything." The Trio walked down the corridors to their History of Magic class.
"Yeah, don't be such a party pooper! Everything's under control," Ron added. Hermione gave him a glare. "Just chill out, okay? Allow yourself a little fun."
"I'm not a killjoy…just concerned, that's all. And don't call me 'Herm'…you know I hate it. It sounds too much like 'worm', and I'm always thinking that you're saying 'Hermes'. Do I freaking look like the god of fertility?" Harry and Ron exchanged glances behind her back.
"Calm down, Herm…ione. What's gotten into you? Why are you so mad all of a sudden?" She stopped in her tracks and faced them. With fire in her eyes, she snarled, "you picked the wrong week of the month to ask me that! I am NOT MAD! Get that through your skulls!" She whipped her bushy hair around and stalked off, leaving the two boys rooted to the floor with the blood draining from their faces.
"You know, Ron," Harry said after she was gone, "I'm sorta grateful that I'm not a girl." Ron nodded dumbly.
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For Hermione, History of Magic was spent taking notes and stealing chocolate from her book bag. Her emotions were frayed. Hours spent studying for the NEWTs through the night hadn't helped her any, and the immature behavior of her friends had only pushed things along. She supposed that they weren't really being immature, but having someone else to blame for your emotions always made her feel better. All throughout the class, Harry and Ron shot her covert glances, as though expecting her to jump up on her desk and start dancing the Macarena. At long last, the bell was heard, signaling the end of that period.
Next was the dreaded Potions class. 'Joy unbound,' thought Hermione, 'just what I need: Sarcastic insults and degrading critiques from a sneering, smirking Marquis de Sade. I'm sure this will go over well. If I get out alive with no more than five detentions and five hundred points from Gryffindor, I'll consider myself lucky.' Little did she know, that Professor Snape was thinking just along those lines.
'I can hardly wait,' thought Snape bitterly, 'just what I need: Show-off Granger waving her hand every second, dunderhead Longbottom blowing up cauldrons, slapdash Weasley blundering through the work, lazy-butt Malfoy copying and then sabotaging Miss Granger's work. Oh this will go over splendidly. I'll be lucky if I survive the day.' He hid in the shadows outside his classroom, watching the annoying little twerps pass by him, unaware that they were being glared at. Once everyone was in their seats, he flung the door open and swooped into the classroom dramatically with this black capes billowing behind him. And thus, the day began.
And what a long day it was! It seemed to take forever for each class to slowly pass by. Most of the students thought it was a long day as well, but with a completely different reason. They were all anxious and excited for the teams to be announced. Hermione just wanted to get to her Head Girl's room to study and fall asleep. It was with great effort that she dragged herself into the Great Hall for dinner and plunked her bag on the floor. Harry and Ron at least busied themselves in a Quidditch debate, and thus let her alone. Girl problems were never one of their counseling specialties. The Goblet of Fire was gone from the Great Hall; it had been removed shortly after breakfast that morning and was now in the staff room. The Gryffindors looked excited, the Ravenclaws looked thoughtful, the Hufflepuffs looked nervous, and the Slytherins looked very smug indeed. Hermione wondered if the reason why they looked so haughty was because they had tampered with the Goblet before it was taken away. Professor Dumbledore had said that there had been accidents with some of the younger students. She quickly quashed that line of thought. Dumbledore would know if it had been altered. Besides, he said younger students, which meant nobody who was eligible.
Colin Creevey came in through the doors with a bandaged hand and dark sunglasses. "Oy!" shouted Ron when he sat down next to him. "Why are you wearing shades indoors?" Colin ignored Ron and gave Harry a large grin.
"I tried to take a picture of the Goblet of Fire, 'arry! But it didn't take too kindly to it. The brightness of the flash reflected from the magic flames hurt my eyes and I dropped the camera into the bowl. Then I tried to fish the camera back out!" He held up his hand, which was wrapped in gauze.
It was ten minutes until seven, and already students were leaving their tables for the Entrance Hall. "It's just not fair!" Ginny complained as she accompanied Hermione. "I want to be in the race! I'm just as good as the seventh years!"
"It's for your own safety, Ginny, it's too much of a liability. You're not of age yet, and so Hogwarts would be responsible for your safety. Most students in seventh year are seventeen, and so if they get hurt, it's their own fault and they can't sue Hogwarts." Ginny eyed her.
"What? What do you mean 'sue'? What's that?" Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Never mind…it's a Muggle thing. Forget about it." They rounded the corner and came face to face with Draco Malfoy, barely having time to stop before a collision.
"Muggle, Granger?" Draco purred, raising a single, blonde eyebrow. "I never would have guessed. What form of Muggleness has your Mudblood mind come up with now?" Ginny started forward, but a warning hand held her back.
"Just ignore him, Ginny," Hermione said, eyeing him. "If his mind can't come up with an insult worthy of my anger, it's likely that his brain has been mutated by generations of inbreeding. He's really just cheating himself." With a swoosh of her hair, and a 'huff' from Ginny, the two girls resumed their journey to the Entrance Hall. Draco stayed where he was, seething that he hadn't come up with a snappy retort to reduce her to tears. He was just about to move on, when an idea struck him.
"Muggleness of the Mudblood. Just cheating myself. Muggleness. Cheating." He completely confident that he was going to be picked for a team, and this would be just perfect. A little letter to Pops, and he would be set. Draco smirked, and continued on his way.
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Severus Snape was in his private study. He was not about to go frolicking through the corridors to the Entrance Hall to ogle at the notice board like some childish schoolboy. He had things to do, and he could care less about the announcement that was posted earlier that evening. It was now 8:30, and he still had papers to mark, potions to brew, and Ars Alchema to review. Yes, he had many things to do, none of which included lounging in front of the fire with a steaming cup of tea, which was precisely what he was doing. He couldn't help but come to the conclusion that his fate rested in the judgment of an object much like the one currently in his hands. Though he hadn't majored in Arithmancy, he had a natural knack for it, and he had already spent half and our calculating his chances at escaping the Goblet's unwanted consideration. As far as he figured it, he had one chance in 73 that he would be picked for a team. 'Balmy old codger.'
It was during one of these ruminations that he happened to hear a scratching at his window. Snape shook himself mentally and, with great effort, managed to get out of his chair and over to the window to open it. It was one of the school owls, and he wondered who would be sending him a letter from inside the school. The staff members usually talked to him personally if they wanted him to know anything, and they always handed him a note if they didn't feel like saying it. It was through hand-passed notes that he communicated to Vector, as she requested a constant supply of potions for unmentionable uses. She was always so flustered and flushed when she would walk quickly past him, stuffing the note into his hand. And Lupin would occasionally slip him a letter indicating that he was nearly out of his Wolfsbane potion when there were too many students around for comfortable conversation…though it wasn't as if any conversation with that werewolf was anywhere near comfortable. Students always came to his office after class with questions. They never sent him letters.
'So who could it be from?' Severus fed the owl with a few bread crumbs from his biscuits and then shooed it out, closing the window behind it. It was most definitely a girl…the letter-writer of course; not the owl. Of that he could be sure. The script was rounded, and finely pronounced, with a few loops and curls at the end of each letter or word. He tore it open and read the letter quickly, his large nose moving back and forth, and his thin lips silently mouthing along with each word.
"Dear Professor Snape,
I know of course that you think it improper for a student to write you, but I needed to get in contact with you before tomorrow and you had already retired to the dungeons. As I'm sure you already know, we are partnered in the upcoming race as the 'two smartest people at Hogwarts', and there are some things we must discuss."
Upon reading this, Severus exchanged his cup of tea for a bottle of firewhisky.
"Seeing that tomorrow is Saturday and thusly class-free, I would appreciate if you could meet me in the library at half-past eight in the morning. There are several issues I'd like to address with you there. Although I am quite honored to be labeled one of the smartest people at Hogwarts, as I assume you are too, this will not go to my head, and I would be grateful if you would not comment upon it. It would be wonderful if you can reply as soon as you can with the same owl I used to send this letter. Thank you very much, and I'm sure if we put our heads together, we can win this thing.
Respectfully yours,
Hermione Granger"
Snape looked out the window at the disappearing speck that was the school owl he was supposed to be sending back to Miss Granger. He really hadn't consumed enough whisky to even consider this, and he quickly remedied it. 'Impertinent little know-it-all. Why me?' Severus Snape knew he deserved many things. He deserved to rot in hell. He deserved to be tortured to death. He deserved to live alone and miserable. He deserved to teach dunderheads for a living. He deserved to be friendless, hopeless, unloved, distrusted, hated, loathed, and made fun of. Yes, he deserved a lot of things…but surely he did not deserve this. There was really no mercy for him. He drunkenly exited his chambers and unsteadily made his way out of the dungeons. Swaying back and forth, Severus reached the Entrance Hall and stood before the notice board. Blinking his eyes, forcing them to see straight, he read the poster that had been magically stuck to the board.
HOGWARTS School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Race Around the World!
Teams
Strongest/Weakest: Rubeus Hagrid and Sybill Trelawney
Athletes: Harry Potter and Rolanda Hooch
Confident/Least Confident: Draco Malfoy and Neville Longbottom
Smartest: Severus Snape and Hermione Granger
It was because of his drunken stupor that he did not faint, pass out, or run screaming obscenities down the corridors. Instead, he continued to scowl at the bulletin board. He said nothing, but turned his back on the notice and trudged back to his chambers. Before collapsing on the bed to sleep off his intoxication, he quickly scrawled a response on a scrap of parchment and summoned an owl to deliver it to Hermione. It didn't take Trelawney to see that he had a nightmare of a summer ahead of him.