Chapter Two: Snape's Insecure
Severus cursed himself as he headed down the dungeons to his next class. He hadn't gotten much sleep last night and it was all because of that damn Longbottom boy.
It escaped him how he hadn't cursed the boy into oblivion but then again if he had he would have lost his job and he definitely needed that right now. It wasn't as if he had any other occupation to go back on. He really wasn't suited to be an Auror, although his Potions and Dark Arts knowledge placed him superior in that rank. Severus supposed he could always work at the Apothecary but they rarely hired any new workers (the clerk at the desk had been there since Severus started his term at Hogwarts) and they were just so damned cliquey.
He stormed into the classroom in his usual bad mood.
"We'll be working on anti-dotes to see if you remember anything I've taught you so far." Severus paced along the front of the desks, staring everyone down. "You'd better because I'll be poisoning one of you today but I'm not going to say who that will be because you are not allowed to ask for help from your classmates." He gave an unpleasant smile. "Begin!"
It turned out to be little Colin Creevy who was the lucky one to be poisoned. The poison worked rather fast however, because of his small size and Severus had to quickly pull out his own vial of anti-dote and force-feed the vomiting boy who had fainted at his feet; he was convulsing violently. It wasn't an easy task to do but the boy managed to choke down the anti-dote as Severus wrenched his mouth open. As the boy lay there, shaking a bit, he decided to use the extra time to lecture to the class.
"Take note how the poison can have a quicker effect on those with abnormally lighter body weights." Creevy spitted up some anti-dote but Severus made him swallow it back down. "You would need to administer the anti-dote immediately, assuming any of you manage to get it right—which none of you did in time! Twenty points off Griffindor for your poor timing!"
It was certainly one of the most absorbing—if not almost deadly lecture anyone had had so far.
----
Hermione was in the common room with Neville trying to practice with him some ways to help control his temper.
"Now just remember what I said to you. Repeat."
"Ignore them. They're not worth it. They are just insecure." Neville repeated.
"Right. Just say to yourself, Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me."
"Sticks and stones… right." He nodded.
"Anytime someone does get to you—just count down from twenty, take a deep breath and let it out." Hermione demonstrated as she took a deep whistling breath in and let it out, puffing her cheeks—she looked like a chipmunk.
Neville started to laugh then managed to straighten his face. "Okay."
----
He felt confident and reassured. Hermione's advice to him was just what he needed and he felt nothing could stop him now. That was until he reached the door in the dungeons classroom.
Snape was already there standing in front of his desk, tapping his foot impatiently.
"You're late," he hissed.
Neville checked his watch, he had forgotten to wind it and it had stopped at a quarter to six. It was just what he didn't need to start off his detention and it got a lot worse.
Snape made him start pickling the eels. He had added to much sulfur powder and he had spilled it all over the counter he was working on. It burned his hands and he washed them off in the stone sink but Snape was there immediately, though not to help.
"You idiot! You never learn do you? Clumsy oaf!" Snape snatched up the remaining jars, the ones Neville managed not to spill, then opened them.
"There's too much sulfur in these too!" He poured out the contents and slammed the jars down, one by one, then turned to face Neville. "If you can't do anything right the first time, don't keep repeating your mistakes by moving on to the next jar! You must check your work to make sure you've done it right—but I doubt you can even do that, can you?" he ridiculed.
Neville looked down at the jars and wiped his wet hands on his robes. How was he ever going to finish if Snape kept throwing his work out each time? He started again but Snape stopped him.
"Use fresh eels, get rid of those in the sink and do try not to screw it up this time!"
"I'm not going to screw it up!" Neville shouted, "Maybe if you would quit picking on me I wouldn't mess up so much!"
"Oh, am I picking on you?" Snape got right into his face. "I'm so sorry. Perhaps you would like a tissue to wipe your snotty-pathetic face with? Are you going to cry now?"
Neville mumbled something under his breath and Snape bent his greasy wax-clogged ear toward him. "What was that? Were you actually saying something to me?"
The jar in his hands slipped and fell into the sink with a shattering noise but he didn't bother to clean it up just yet, he was afraid he would cut himself because his hands were shaking so badly.
"Stop it."
"Make me." Snape dared.
Neville closed his eyes and tried very hard to think about what Hermione had told him. Her words seemed very distant just now but he scrunched his forehead in concentration and mouthed the words, "They're not worth it. They're insecure."
"What are you whispering?" Snape snapped his fingers and Neville's eyes flew open, breaking his concentration.
"You're insecure." Neville shot at him and braced himself for impact.
Instead Snape just laughed, a cold short, mirthless laugh. "What makes you a judge of that?" He stood over Neville in his full height, intimidating him. "What would you know about me? You pathetic, useless, stupid good-for-nothing brat!" he spat.
Neville mumbled, "Sticks and stones…"
"What was that?" Snape leaned his oily face toward Neville and bared his yellow teeth at him.
"Sticks and stones will break my bones but—you'll never hurt me." Neville said.
"Oh, I beg to differ." Snape retorted. "I can make you feel pain you've never felt before, if I so choose. Believe me, what I can make you go through is nothing compared to the world outside. It's a cruel, cruel world boy and there's nothing you can do about it." He stormed back to his desk and Neville resumed pickling the eels.
His fingers were bleached and dry by the time he finished but he was sure he had done it right this time.
As usual, Snape came around to check his work. He opened the jar Neville had just finished with a pop then put his big nose inside and took a sniff.
"Now I can hardly smell the sulfur, did you put any in it?" He snarled and dipped a finger into the grimy broth to taste it and then spat it out into the sink. "You didn't use enough!" Snape just threw the jar into the sink and it broke, spilling out the eel and broth that Neville had spent a half-an-hour on to make right.
That was the last straw and Neville could feel the familiar rage bubbling up inside of him. But he remembered Hermione and thought how disappointed she would be if Neville lost control again. She wasn't the only one who would be disappointed.
Neville started to hold his breath, counting down from twenty as he clenched his fists. He wasn't going to let Snape get to him, he wasn't going to give him the satisfaction, not if he could help it. He lost track of where he was counting down and started again, still holding his breath. He could feel himself going red in the face from the effort and he was feeling dizzy. His lungs started to hurt but he wasn't going to give up. He was going to show Snape his total self-control if it was the last thing he did.
It was.
The world went black, along with Snape's furious face, as Neville fell to the ground with a heavy thud.
----
Severus had seen lots of students faint in front of him. Often he was the cause of it but he had never seen a student faint from holding their breath.
"What the hell?" he cursed.
This was not going to help matters and was only going to make things worse with Dumbledore.
And that blasted McGonagall, he thought to himself.
He cursed again and went to get some smelling salts. Damned if he was going to have to drag that blasted boy all the way to the hospital wing at this time of night.
What would Madame Pomfrey think? He could hear her now, "What have you done to that poor boy? You need to stop scaring your students!"
It wasn't the first time he had made his students faint.
He bent down toward the boy, shoving the smelling salts under his nose.
"Wake up, damn you!" he shook the bottle, not that it helped any.
It took a while for the salts to have their effect but the Longbottom boy snapped awake as his eyes fluttered open. He gave a weary moan.
"Get up," Severus sneered. He stood up, with great difficulty due to his knee joints and stared down at the boy.
He slowly turned himself over and was braced on his hands and knees then said, "I can't. I still feel dizzy."
"You'll get up or I'll make you get up! Moody's not the only one who knows the Imperious Curse." Severus drew out his wand and this seemed to speed things up finally as the chubby brat heaved himself up to a weak-kneed standing position, though he swayed dangerously on his feet. Severus gave a nasty smile then ordered, "Now clean the mess up in the sink."
Slowly, the Longbottom boy turned around to face the sink but Severus saw his eyes bulge and heard the boy utter a sickening gag. He quickly shouted, "DON'T YOU DARE!"
But it was too late. The boy had thrown up and of course, he had missed the sink.
The floor was covered in vomit and the awful smell mixed with the suffocating sulfurous mix in the sink (the very same smell that made Neville sick) as Severus felt he was going to lose his dinner as well.
"UGH! Enough!" he pointed his wand at the mess and spoke through his sleeve, "Scourgify!"
The mess was cleaned up but a faint smell lingered.
"You disastrous boy! Just when I think things can't get any worse, you prove me wrong…"
Severus walked back to his desk as the boy clung to the edge of the sink, still gasping and swaying.
"Get out! Just get OUT!" he swatted at the air. The boy was going to drive him nuts if he stayed here any longer. He would have to serve the rest of his detention some other time.
The Longbottom boy stumbled out of the dungeons classroom and past the door where Severus heard him upchuck once more.
Oh well, he thought to himself, that mess is Filch's problem now. He made a mental note to himself not to slip on the vomit on his way out.
----
"How are you managing detention with Longbottom, Severus?"
Dumbledore was staring at him with those electric blue eyes, trying to read his thoughts. He looked away quickly and straightened the bundle of parchment scrolls that he was going to correct before his next class.
He had hid in Dumbledore's office (though he would never admit this) to get away from the sickening Umbridge woman. Severus gave a shudder as he imagined that woman marching to his own office—in her lurid pink robes with ruffles and bows—as she was bent on questioning his every move. Pink frills made him break out in hives.
"I'm managing well enough, though I doubt even an Auror could handle the disasters that boy can conjure."
"Glad to hear it." Dumbledore smiled and Severus stared blankly at him.
"You already know what happened, don't you?"
"Yes, of course," he replied languorously.
He resisted the urge to rip up all the parchments in his hands and asked instead, "Then why did you ask me how I was handling things?"
"I value your opinion, Severus. Your point of view is very important. And if I may add my tidbit as well…"
Oh great, Severus thought to himself and braced himself for the inevitable. Here it comes...
"Yes, Headmaster?"
"I think you're doing a splendid job."
Severus just stared at him and wondered (not for the first time) if Dumbledore was really off his rocker. But then again looks could be deceiving.
"Why weren't you here to tell me about controlling Longbottom? Why did McGonagall have to relay the information to me?" he asked suspiciously. He wanted a straight answer from Dumbledore.
"Ah, I was inconveniently absent because of a shortage of Lemon Drops." Dumbledore said no more as he had simply folded his hands together and stared at Severus.
He should have known he wouldn't get a straight answer from the crooked-nosed old man.
----
In the Griffindor common room Neville, Hermione, Ron and Harry were there along with Ginny who was playing with Crookshanks near the fire. Ron and Harry were playing chess, Harry was losing but he wasn't paying attention because he was listening to what Hermione was telling Neville.
"Oh Neville, I didn't mean for you to hold your breath then count down from twenty!" she gave an exasperated sigh but she continued when she saw the look on Neville's face, "Don't worry, we can try something else."
"I don't want to try anything else. It's just getting worse." Neville buried his head in his hands on his knees. It was bad enough they had to hear what he had done last night and he was lucky he didn't have detention again because it was Sunday. He had needed a rest and McGonagall had told him to take the night off but also to "Stay out of trouble, for goodness sake!". Snape had also given him the night off, which was equally mysterious but Neville was grateful.
"Don't worry about it—checkmate!" Ron had no sooner said this before his queen smacked Harry's knight off the board with her scepter. He turned back to Neville and asked, "Did you really call Snape an insecure git?" he smiled broadly.
"I called him insecure… but I shouldn't have said it because he just got madder." Neville gave a jump as the fire popped.
"Well, it won't be too much longer. It's only a couple more weeks. You'll survive." Harry cleared the injured chess pieces off the board and took a closer seat to Ginny.
"That's what you think," Neville muttered.
"Whenever the Dursley's get on my nerves I just try to think of something nice like visiting Ron at the Burrow and coming back to Hogwarts." Harry nodded and stroked Crookshanks' long curly hair as the cat lay on his back.
"What could I think about?" Neville thought hard but he couldn't come up with anything.
"Food!" Ron offered but Hermione shot him a dirty look. "What? Food cheers me up…" he defended lamely.
"Quidditch!" Harry said brightly.
"I don't play and flying makes me nervous. I don't even like to watch it." Neville shook his head.
"I know, just think about your other classes. You'll be so busy concentrating on that, you won't have time to worry about Snape." Hermione beamed and crossed her arms as if to settle the matter but Ron and Harry shot her a dubious look. "What?" she asked.
"But I'm not good at anything, except Herbology and I don't think that will take my mind off Snape." Neville sighed and everyone was silent for a while before Ginny started giggling then burst out laughing.
"It's obvious!" she giggled, "Just think about that Boggart of Snape in your grandmother's clothes!"
"Oh yeah," Neville mused, "That was pretty funny." A smile crept onto his face as Ron and Harry started laughing along with Ginny.
"Well, I guess that will work too." Hermione seemed a bit disappointed they hadn't used her idea but she went back to her book and was soon immersed in Science vs. Magic: A Contradiction of Ideas for her Muggle Studies class.
Neville stared into the fire, feeling a lot better after he had talked about this matter to his friends. His detention with Snape didn't seem like such a big deal anymore.
----
Monday had been the worst day for detention, worse than the rest of them because even though Neville hadn't lost his temper, Snape had and Neville had never seen him so angry.
It turned out Ginny's advice may not have been as helpful as Neville thought, if only he had known.
Neville was stuck in detention with Snape once more and had to finish a particularly nasty job.
He had to collect Garffghoul vomit and Neville approached it with apprehension as Snape loomed over him and said, "You had better not screw this up. I do not want a repeat of what happened last time." Snape twisted his mouth in disgust.
The Garffghoul looked to Neville like an illegal creature, something that was usually bred by Hagrid and equally gross looking. It had a slimly reptile appearance, with black beady eyes and a mud-colored body (with no arms) that was half-sitting in a cauldron. The Garffghoul made a squelching noise as Neville came toward it with the glass vial that he had to collect the vomit in.
"Do not spill a drop!" Snape hissed and continued, "I need the vomit for a Digestive Solution."
Neville's hand shook as he tentatively put the vial under the creature's mouth which opened wide to reveal very sharp teeth. He let out a frightened whimper before the Garffghoul let out a gag and filled the vial with the sickening substance. Neville pulled his hand away and corked the vial; his hand and sleeve had gotten in the way and he tried to wipe it clean.
"Give me that before you drop it!" Snape snatched the bottle from him and looked greedily at its contents before putting it on his desk. "Now feed it again and get another vial." He pointed to the bucket of slop that Neville had to get.
Neville looked into the bucket and almost lost his dinner. The bucket was crawling with what looked like maggots, worms, slugs and also some flobberworms. He gave a groan and heaved the bucket up to the creature and winced as it started to gobble down the contents.
When he was done feeding the Garffghoul Neville repeated gathering the vomit to fill in the vile.
Snape sat at his desk and watched him, ready to criticize his slightest mistake.
It took a while for the second vile to fill, obviously the creature had wanted to keep the contents in its stomach rather than give it up to the vile Neville held under its mouth. It kept wrenching its head away and garbled a disagreeable grunt and Neville accidentally poked it in its eye as he was trying to aim it at the mouth. It did not like being poked in the eye.
The Garffghoul let out a howling screech before Snape came rushing over.
"What are you doing? You stupid boy! Give me that!" Snape grabbed the vile from him and took a hold of the creature's neck and to Neville's horror, Snape stuck a finger in its mouth. The creature immediately gagged and spit up.
The vile was full but Snape's finger was bleeding as he corked the vial and he shot Neville a dirty look. "If you weren't so stupid I wouldn't have had to finish the job and injure my finger! Now I must put something on it before it gets infected." Snape went over to the sink to wash his wound before he came back to his desk and opened a drawer. "The Garffghoul's teeth are not only filthy, they are infectious." He pulled out a small bottle of what Neville guessed was disinfectant and Snape gasped as he poured the liquid over his finger. Neville could tell from the look on his Professor's face that it was very painful and just then Snape glared at him.
"What are you looking at?" he sounded very dangerous and Neville stepped back from his desk.
"Nothing, sir." He let out a gasp as Snape rushed out from behind his desk and stood in front of him. His looming height and deathly pale face reminded Neville of the Dementors that used to roam the school grounds during his third year. All of a sudden, he was reminded of his worst fears and he shut his eyes tight to avoid looking into Snape's.
Neville thought hard about the Boggart that had turned into Snape during the time Professor Lupin was teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. He remembered the Boggart coming out of the closet.
"Snape's out of the closet…"
Then he thought about his grandmother, particularly her clothes and then before his eyes the Boggart turned into Snape—wearing his grandmother's patterned dress and vulture hat with the big red bag.
The thought made him laugh out loud and Neville opened his eyes, completely forgetting that he wasn't in Professor Lupin's class and instead of a Boggart Snape staring him down it was the real one—and he looked furious.
"What the hell are you laughing at?" Snape growled.
Neville gulped and answered through his dry scratchy throat, "Nothing, sir."
"You think this is funny, do you?" He spoke softly to Neville but his tone was murderous. "Do you think its funny that you almost lost me my finger?"
Neville shook his head.
"Let's see how much you laugh when you're in pain." Snape grabbed him by the arm and dragged Neville to the Garffghoul. He snatched Neville's right hand and forced the Garffghoul's open mouth and shoved the hand in. The Garffghoul immediately bit down on it and Neville screamed out in pain.
Neville had tears streaming down his face but Snape wasn't doing anything but smirking at him and this made him angry. He tried to pull his hand away but it wouldn't come free, the creature's teeth had sunk into it and wasn't letting go.
There was nothing Neville could do and Snape let out a nasty laugh. "Now this is funny!"
Neville couldn't punch Snape so he punched the only thing in reach.
The Garffghoul finally let go of his hand and gave a piteous cry of pain. It had been punched right between its beady black eyes.
Clutching his hand in pain Neville was about to wrap it in his robes when Snape raised his hand and cuffed him while he shouted, "You imbecile! That creature is irreplaceable! You almost killed it!"
If Neville hadn't known better he would have thought Snape felt more about the creature's injury than his own injured finger.
Now his ears hurt as well as his hand and when he looked down at it he saw the puncture marks where the creature bit him—it was turning a bruised green.
"Just get out of here! Go on!" Snape angrily waved him away.
Once more Neville was dismissed early from detention and had to hurry to the hospital wing.
----
During Care of Magical Creatures class the next day, Hagrid had taken a look at Neville's bandaged hand and let out a low whistle.
"How's your hand there?" he asked.
"It's okay. I just can't move it which makes it hard to write with. I may have to try writing with my left hand." Neville had trouble miming this out as he had to hold on to the leash of the Niffler Hagrid had given to him. The Niffler was remarkably cute compared to some of the other creatures Hagrid had in his class and Neville was glad of it, he didn't think he could handle anything more after his detention last night.
"You said it was a Garffghoul that bit 'yeh?" Hagrid was taking a closer look at Neville's injury, as if he could see the damage through all the gauze the covered his hand. Neville nodded and Hagrid gruffly replied, "Never heard of it. If there's a creature I've never heard of, it probably doesn't exist!"
Neville described what the Garffghoul was and a dark look came over Hagrid's face.
"Oh that," he continued with a disgruntled nod, "That's Professor Snape's doing, that is. O'course you can't really call it a creature 'cause it wasn't exactly born, 'yeh know."
"What do you mean?" Neville was jerked away by his Niffler but he managed to tug him back.
"Ah, I'm not supposed to say but I 'seen that thing and it's nothin' nature created, that's for sure." Hagrid looked around at the class and then yelled out at Pansy Parkinson, "Yeh better take off that watch or the Niffler'll get it!" She shot Hagrid a dirty look but obeyed.
"Yeah…" he gave a disapproving glance at her then turned back to Neville, "In fact, Snape brought that thing over last night, tried to make me take a look at it but I told him 'There's nothin' wrong with it, that thing's as tough as nails, it is,' and he just kept insisting I ought to fix it anyway—if fixing the creature is what you'd call it.
Anyway, I gave it some tonic and the thing just gave a big 'ole belch, right as rain. 'Course that was before the blasted thing tried to eat everything in sight, including 'me own socks! I never said nothin' about it though and the creature didn't seem the worse for the wear so Snape just took it back."
Neville stared out into the plowed dirt field. Wouldn't Professor Snape have been arrested by the Ministry of Magic for creating an illegal creature?
"How did he create the creature if it wasn't born?" he asked Hagrid.
"Don't know," Hagrid shook his head and replied, "But it seemed to be a sort of accident that happened and 'yeh know Dumbledore would never make a fuss. It turns out that creature's pretty handy for potion making and such." Hagrid left Neville to his thoughts and went to gather the Nifflers from the students.
Snape must have named the creature recently, Neville thought, if Hagrid hadn't heard of it before. It was certainly a fitting name for a creature that sounded as vicious as its appetite.
----
The week had been a total nightmare and with one more week to go, Neville was feeling as if he would hardly survive it. In just about every detention he had so far it felt like he was risking his life and barely escaped mortal danger—and that was just from the tasks he was ordered to do by Snape.
Snape was even more furious with him and Neville thought back to that fateful day when he stupidly shoved the Potion Master's head into the cauldron. Why had he done that? How could he lose control like that? Whenever he thought back on it Neville came to the conclusion that he must have been insane. But then again, as Hermione pointed out to him after a particularly hard night of detention, it had been building up.
"You've been under a lot of pressure, Neville. It's no wonder you lost control like that…"
Hermione was changing the bandages on his other hand that had been badly burned from the undiluted bubotuber puss that he had been mixing. Hermione made a tsk sound as she unwound the bandage and diagnosed, "More essence of Murtlap, I think."
Neville gingerly flexed the hand that was covered in boils. His hand was staring to heal but it still hurt, though it looked a lot better than the first time when all the boils had been bright red.
Between mixing bubotuber puss, extracting snake venom and weighing poisonous powdered doxy eggs (which could be fatal if inhaled), he was really lucky he hadn't done himself in already. But if this was any indication of how dangerous the tasks Snape set for him were getting then Neville was quite sure he would be dead by next week.
"You shouldn't keep it inside like that." Hermione finished.
"Huh?" Neville had been so engrossed in his own thoughts that he didn't quite hear what Hermione was saying. She had finished putting the bandage on his hand and was now looking up at him expectantly.
"If you had an outlet for your frustration then you wouldn't lose control like this."
"Yeah, you're right." Neville nodded and said, "I know it's my fault."
"NO!" Hermione nearly shouted and Neville jumped. "I'm sorry, I meant," Hermione paused, waiting for Neville's nerves to settle before she continued, "You shouldn't blame yourself either, it's not your fault! You just need to have more confidence in yourself. Practice this with me: I am confident and calm." She waited for him to repeat.
"I am con-confident and… calm," he finished lamely.
"With more conviction now…"
Neville repeated it again.
"That's better. Whenever Snape, or anyone else, starts to get you down just say this to yourself over and over. You have to start a positive internal monologue with yourself so you can boost your self-esteem. Remember: Positive thoughts. Say this over and over in your head."
"You mean, I have to talk to myself?" Neville looked dubious. "Won't that make me seem, odd?"
"No, I read it in a very credible Muggle book called, Positive Thinking for the Psychological Pessimist. I think it's excellent advice."
Neville frowned. "Well, I don't feel very comfortable talking to myself, even if it's just in my head."
"In that case, just remember what I say." Hermione continued, "You're a confident, calm and capable person. You just need to believe in yourself." She nodded in agreement with herself.
Neville still looked dubious.
"I know you can do it, Neville. I believe in you." Hermione smiled at him and he blushed.
----
A/N: The Garffghoul was my creation and I'll try to put a drawing of it on my Deviant Art site. I may even do a spin-off about Snape and the Garffghoul and how it was created—if I get around to it. Next chapter: You'll see… I'm still working on it.