With the raspy scratch of his quill, Severus Snape crossed out yet another answer from a fourth year's homework. He sighed in resignation; there was no joy in teaching abominably dim students. It was bad enough to be forced to observe failure after failure in the dungeons. His task as Potions professor was additionally dull because he then had to read hours of incorrect assignments.
Severus placed the graded homework beneath the crumpled, burned-out remains of a Filibuster firework, which had become something of a paperweight. He was beyond certain that it was the "famous" Harry Potter who had single-handedly thrown his second-year Potions class into havoc by placing the explosive in a cauldron. After class ended, Severus had immediately presented the ruined firework to Dumbledore, who, of course, dismissed the claims as guesswork.
That was a week ago, and the proof had not accomplished much. Potter was still freely roaming the halls, flying cars, purposely exploding Swelling Solutions onto classmates, and stealing potion-making ingredients. That boy could get away with anything that would send most "ordinary" boys home on the next train.
"Good afternoon, Minerva, Severus," Filius Flitwick bobbed his head in the direction of each professor as he entered the nearly empty staffroom. A long trail of parchment was trailing after him in the air before forming a pyramid shape on the floor beside one of the high-backed chairs. "My, it's only December, and I'm already tired of grading."
"With the attack on Filch's cat, it's been almost impossible to keep my students' attention these days," McGonagall muttered from the old table in the corner that she always occupied.
"The Chamber of Secrets. . ." Flitwick trailed off thoughtfully. "Now, I've never liked that cat, mind you, but it gives me the chills to think about what happened to that poor Creevey boy. What if there are more attacks? I'm nearly afraid to say it, but what if a student dies like last time?"
Severus thought back to the first attack during the Halloween party. Everyone hated the cat; its loss would not be the cause for much grief, especially among the rule-breaking, particularly careless students. Personally, Severus found the writing on the wall far more interesting. Enemies of the Heir Beware? It all seemed rather stupid for the attacker to publicly announce his mission. There was no Slytherin subtlety in that.
Of course, Potter had been at the scene of the crime, standing in a puddle of water with a bewildered expression stamped on his clueless features. Just like his father, he was able to wriggle out of trouble. Surely Severus was not the only professor would had heard the nervous whisperings around school, that Potter was the Heir of Slytherin. As if the Sorting Hat would put the true heir in the wrong House!
"At least we have the Mandrakes," Severus said reflectively after the pause. "Think about it, Flitwick. I can brew enough potion that even half the students could be Petrified, and we should be able to cure them all. Now, if death is involved . . . no potion can cure that."
"Severus!" McGonagall exclaimed with a horrified expression on her face.
"I'm merely saying that the Petrification is treatable," Severus said, unblinking. "I'm not suggesting that I wish the students to be attacked. I do not desire to make light of death either. Hogwarts cannot afford a student dying at the hands of this, well, 'horror within' as Binns calls it."
Flitwick's thick eyebrows arched in interest. "Have you heard something from the school governors, then? You seem to have better connections with that group that anyone else."
Severus smiled. He took pleasure in harboring exclusive information.
"Lucius Malfoy is the only one I speak with regularly," Severus said. "I don't profess to have any secret knowledge, so what I will say is well known: Lucius does not care much for Dumbledore."
"Well, that's obvious, isn't it?" McGonagall said. "It all has to do with Lucius being in league with You-Know-Who. I don't think Dumbledore and the Malfoys will ever see eye to eye after that great show Lucius put on after the war ended. . . ."
McGonagall caught Severus's eyes and immediately cut off into an awkward silence. Though it was never discussed, no one on staff had forgotten that his loyalties had changed during the war. Certainly, McGonagall had not forgotten. She only trusted him because Dumbledore did. Forgiveness came grudgingly for that woman; perhaps for good reason. He had committed the worst mistake.
Severus cleared his throat to break the pause.
"All it takes is a few more attacks, and Lucius will be sure to voice a need for a change of Headmasters," Severus said carefully.
"Surely not!" Flitwick said, his voice dripping with loyalty. "Hogwarts is only truly safe when Dumbledore is around. There's no wizard like him!"
"Unfortunately, I don't think Lucius is particularly concerned with safety of students, outside that of his own son," Severus said. "If a death occurs, well, you can imagine what will happen."
"Then Hogwarts is finished," McGonagall completed the thought. It was the only possible option.
Suddenly, Gilderoy Lockhart burst into the staffroom, giving a merry wave to his fellow professors as if he had just entered a party in his honor. His cheery appearance cut a stark contrast from the dour conversation. Flitwick, trying to be polite, smiled back from behind his overlarge stack of Charms essays. Snape kept his face blank, but it was difficult to disguise his sneer. Lockhart was the idiot of idiots, mostly because he was so blissfully unaware that everyone else found him extraordinarily pompous and loud.
"Everyone! I've just come up with an idea! Stunningly brilliant!" Lockhart proclaimed loudly, although there were just three other people in the room. "You will never guess what I've thought up for the students!"
McGonagall looked up from one of her textbooks, giving an audible tut of frustration. "Well, seeing as you've given us no clues with which to guess your little scheme, Gilderoy, you might as well tell us what it is."
Lockhart looked absolutely delighted that McGonagall had shown the slightest interest. He put on his insufferable dramatic flair, lowering his voice to a stage whisper. "I can only describe it in one word: Dueling Club."
"That's two words, Lockhart," Severus said lazily as he picked up another parchment of homework from the stack. He thought he heard Flitwick stifle a hiccuping chuckle.
"Ah, yes, I suppose I miscounted," Lockhart admitted airily. "Anyway, the Dueling Club is just what this school needs! Even though the students don't have anything to worry about — it's not as if they'll be fighting the Bandon Banshee in the hallways — I'm certain they'll feel more at ease if they knew some protective spells."
Severus held up an unnecessary hand for silence. "See here, Lockhart. Talented though you profess to be in all areas of magic, you're forgetting something volatile: students. Can you imagine them trying to jinx each other? Why, Professor Flitwick was just telling me about how a fourth-year Hugglepuff girl accidently dispelled him across the room during lessons."
Flitwick laughed, his tiny body shaking. "It happens every year, Severus! I don't think there'd be any harm in dueling lessons. You know I had a flair for dueling when I was younger. My, I could jinx the eyebrows off a wizard before he could blink!"
"Just who is going to teach these lessons, Gilderoy?" McGonagall asked, though she surely knew the answer, judging by Lockhart's enthusiasm alone.
"Magical me!" Lockhart said, reciting the name of his autobiography. "Dumbledore has already given permission. I've just posted an announcement for it. The first meeting is tonight, in fact! There's just one thing I lack."
"What might that be?" McGonagall questioned again. Severus could tell she would rather be anywhere else, but in accordance with Dumbledore's request, she — like everyone else on staff — humored Lockhart, the supposed hero. Of course, Severus found this edict almost unbearable.
Lockhart flashed his award-winning smile. "I need a dueling partner. I don't suppose one of you would like to volunteer?"
For a few moments, Lockhart looked from Severus to McGonagall to Flitwick. Severus knew exactly what Lockhart was doing; he was determining which professor would not show him up in a performance in front of the student body. McGonagall and Flitwick must have sensed this as well and exchanged knowing looks.
"Well, you wouldn't want me helping, Gilderoy," McGonagall said dismissively. "I'm much too busy.
Lockhart looked deeply hurt, though he was probably faking the emotion. "Oh, Minerva, that's a shame to hear. A crying shame! Now, Filius, a dueling champion, right? Well, I can't have you making a fool of me out there — not that I think you would, of course. I'm well-trained to deal with any sort of wizard or magical creature."
"Naturally," Flitwick agreed, looking not at all disappointed. "You can't have me getting in the way of your lesson."
"Ha! I knew you'd see it that way, Filius," Lockhart laughed jovially. "I would hate to beat you at your own game. It would be rather embarrassing when you lost, wouldn't it? Now, that leaves me with just one more choice."
"The job belongs to Severus, I suppose," Flitwick said, his eyes twinkling.
"Do you think you can help then, Severus?" Lockhart asked. "Can I charm you into helping with the Dueling Club?"
"But what about Sinistra or Trelawney or —" Severus started.
"You've got to aid me!" Lockhart cut in. "I don't have time to look for anyone else because I really must plan tonight's lesson. Severus, imagine the looks on the students' faces when they are informed that there is not going to be a Dueling Club meeting, just because I couldn't find anyone to help me."
"I really don't care how the students feel," Severus said, narrowing his eyes at Lockhart, who seemed impervious to rudeness of all forms.
"What? Not care?" Lockhart looked absolutely stunned. "This is about the well-being of Hogwarts itself. We can't have everyone going about feeling scared."
"That's true, Severus," McGonagall suddenly agreed. "There's no one else."
Severus glared at McGonagall and Flitwick, who both looked mischievously back. They had boxed him into an unbearable situation; Lockhart was fully prepared to agitate him until he finally agreed to be his helper. Where was Sprout, who happily volunteered for most everything? For the first time, Severus wished the staffroom had been full of professors, something that never happened unless Dumbledore called a meeting.
Deep down, however, Severus wanted to duel; he immensely enjoyed the idea of giving Lockhart a much-needed jinx to the head. Unfortunately, being an assistant in the Dueling Club meant subjecting himself to Lockhart once a week.
"It looks like I don't have a choice, seeing how you're willing to badger me until I go along with your plan," Severus relented.
Lockhart immediately clapped Severus excitedly on the shoulder. "Excellent! I knew one of you would volunteer. Now, you do have some experience with dueling, right?"
Did he know dueling? Severus immediately recalled unbidden memories, those insufferable losses to James Potter and Sirius Black during his Hogwarts days. For as many times as he won a skirmish, he was usually humiliated twice as much. Certainly, he had improved since his teenage years; the war had certainly helped.
"Let me describe my experience this way: you'd do yourself well to practice Protego a few times," Severus said simply as he gathered up his students' Potions homework. "Now if you don't mind, I suppose I will go prepare for tonight."
"Good man," Lockhart remarked loudly as Severus exited the staffroom door, "but he's rather big-headed, don't you think?"
***
Severus stood in the shadows of a doorway as students filed past him into the Great Hall, whispering eagerly about what they were about to learn. Unfortunately, all those students would be highly disappointed when they discovered their dueling Professor was profoundly inept. Severus was sure of that.
What was more, the creature that had attacked Creevey was not something that could be stopped with a mere Tickling Charm. Far from it. If for some reason Potter actually learned something from the Dueling Club, he would probably decide he was a skilled enough wizard to hunt down the unseen monster himself.
Protecting Lily's boy was proving to be much more involved than he had ever dreamed. It had only taken Potter a year of school to find the Dark Lord, albeit by way of that dimwitted Quirrell. What would happen if Potter stumbled upon the "horror within" that roamed the castle?
Flitwick stopped next to Severus on his way into the Great Hall.
"Honestly, I think I would have enjoyed being Lockhart's dueling assistant, if it didn't mean spending so much time with him," Flitwick said quietly, echoing Severus's sentiments from a few hours earlier. "It's a shame Lockhart was so opposed to my participation because would be fun to put him in his . . . proper place."
"Indeed," Severus said.
Flitwick winked playfully at Severus. "Just make sure he lives, Severus, because you know how difficult it is for Dumbledore to find a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."
Defense Against the Dark Arts. Severus gritted his teeth and hot sparks shot unbidden from his wand at the thought that Lockhart, an inept wizard by all standards, was chosen for that post instead of him. Did Dumbledore still not trust him? Surely his chance would come in time, but how much longer must he wait?
"Do I ever disappoint, Flitwick?" Severus asked, feeling a thin, unpleasant smile on his face. "Lockhart can still teach effectively even if he's an inch from death, correct?"
"Make us proud," Flitwick said as he stepped out into the noisy Great Hall to find a place to watch the event.
Severus sighed as he caught sight of Lockhart in his outrageous plum robes. He'd given Dumbledore his word on a great many things, and promising the survival of Lockhart was a simple task.
Comparatively speaking.