A/N: Happy holidays everybody! I'm still working mostly on Rise of the Uchiha, but this chapter is a Christmas/New Years present for my sister, who wanted me to write something a little less depressing for a change.
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or Harry Potter. Any dialogue that is the same as canon belongs to J.K. Rowling.
Chapter 5: Conversations and Confrontations
About a week into the new term, the professors at Hogwarts became aware that there was something different about their students this year. It took them a few days to notice that anything was odd, and even then many kept their observations to themselves because they feared their coworkers would laugh at them. But news tends to spread, and after an offhand comment here and there, a muttered exclamation or two, the teaching staff at Hogwarts realized that they weren't crazy; something really was different.
"It's remarkable," as Professor McGonagall observed to Professor Vector over tea one day, "but I've noticed a dramatic increase in student participation and interest in the material. It used to be just the Ravenclaws and the Granger girl asking questions, but now I've got all manner of students stopping by my office to inquire about spells that we covered in class. For a while I thought the House-Elves had put something in the pumpkin juice; I mean, only yesterday morning I caught Fred and George Weasley actually paying attention. They were taking notes, for heaven's sake!"
The austere Septima Vector nodded over the rim of her china cup. "It's not just you, Minerva. I decided to cover Exponential Enchantments in my N.E.W.T. class this year, something my predecessor took out of the curriculum because they were so difficult. Not only have I not heard any complaints, I've had students come to me to ask about learning how to counter Exponential Enchantments with the Logarithmic Incantation, which I never even mentioned. They must have researched the subject matter outside of class, and with the amount of work I assign that's no mean feat. In fact, I've never encountered anything like this in my twenty years as an educator – maybe a group of Ravenclaws pushing each other to hit the books, but not spread throughout all four houses."
Professor McGonagall gave a wry smile. "It's almost strange enough to make me want to talk to the Headmaster about it. But if I do, I have this irrational feeling that things will go back to the way they were. Students taking such an interest in learning; I tell you, Septima, it almost makes me feel young again. To work with students so determined to learn is a blessing - it's why I became a teacher in the first place."
"I agree with you there, Minerva. Whatever it was that made so many students decide to take an active hand in their education, I hope it keeps working!"
That conversation was repeated, in different forms and with different subjects, throughout the entire teaching staff. Professor Sprout was overwhelmed with the growth of interest in plants and their use in potions and as alternative security measures. She was a little put off that so many of the students expressed interest in the more bloodthirsty qualities of the plants in her curriculum, but for every student who seemed a little too excited by her description of the Devil's Snare there seemed two more who wanted to know about how to use plants to heal.
Professor Binns was seen talking to the other ghosts, in a slightly more animated fashion than normal, about how students had asked him after class about whether or not the tactics he discussed in his section on Britain's Wizarding Military History still applied in modern magical skirmishes.
Professor Snape, to no one's particular surprise, did not seem pleased at all about the sudden increase of interest in his subject. Anyone foolish enough to approach him outside of his class hours risked losing house points.
Professor Flitwick, on the other hand, was so delighted with the flood of students asking about how to most effectively wield and counter charms used in wizard duels, that he decided to revive the Hogwarts Dueling Club. After receiving permission from Professor Dumbledore he started working on flyers, and began to think which of the professors he could ask to assist him.
As for Professor Sarutobi, he was tickled pink that his ongoing homework assignment had started such a riot of studying. Not all students were buying into the idea that Defense Against the Dark Arts extended into every other discipline, but for those who did, it was clear that thinking about ways to apply their lessons made classes all that much more enjoyable. For many students, the assignment opened them to the idea that what they were learning was real and important - it was, in fact, potentially the difference between life and death. But even if the students didn't quite share Hiruzen's belief that danger lurked around every corner, they still considered their Defense Against the Dark Arts assignments to be "jolly good fun."
In fact, the second-year Gryffindors were so taken with Professor Sarutobi's message that they decided to meet in the common room every other night, in order to go over what they'd learned in class. The idea was heartily endorsed by Hermione, who maintained that they all should have listened to her last year when she tried to start a study group.
They were sometimes joined by a few of the older students, most often Fred and George, who never failed to come up with the most interesting and creative ideas.
One Friday night, several weeks into the fall term, the Gryffindors were meeting as usual in the common room. Fred and George had brought a case of butterbeer, which they offered freely to everyone. Harry, having been on the receiving end of more than a few of the twins' pranks, took a cautious sniff and waited for Dean to drink from his bottle first. But after a few seconds passed without Dean showing any obvious signs of foul play, Harry took a deep pull from his butterbeer and sighed with contentment.
When everyone had their own drink, Fred put the lid back on the case with a flourish. "Right then, chaps, shall we get on? Because George and I have-"
"Some devilishly clever applications for our latest Charms lesson that we want to unveil this week," his brother chimed in without missing a beat.
Fred nodded, and grinned wickedly at the second-years. "And we're willing to pay top Galleon to anyone brave enough to act as a guinea pig."
Harry lost no time in shaking his head, followed immediately by all of his classmates.
"No takers?" George looked crestfallen, then shrugged and turned to Fred. "Looks like we'll have to kidnap a few Slytherin firsties. Anyway, we'll wait to share our idea until later. This is your study group after all; it would be bad form to start with our work, brilliant as it is."
Hermione, who was sitting on a couch in between Lavender and Parvati, visibly perked up at the chance to direct the group. "I wanted to ask about Mandrakes. I mean, I can see how it would be easy for a Dark wizard to hurt people by using the cry of the Mandrake, but what could we do to counter it?"
"Easy," Lavender said, "wear the sound-cancelling earmuffs from class."
Hermione was going to reply, but Ron beat her to it. "Right, but a Dark wizard probably isn't going to announce that he's about to off you with a Mandrake, right? He'll be somewhere you can't see him, and by the time you know something's wrong it's too late. You've already snuffed it. So unless you wear sound-canceling earmuffs all the time, they won't do any good."
"Hold up, Ronniekins," George said, making an exaggerated "slow down" gesture. "Why couldn't the Dark wizard be a girl?"
"Yeah," Fred continued, wagging a finger at Ron mockingly. "What would Mum say if she heard you claiming that women can't be as evil as men?"
George nodded at his twin knowingly. "Probably off him with a Mandrake."
Harry laughed along with Dean, Seamus, Lavender, Parvati and the twins. Ron's face grew redder and redder as he tried to splutter that that wasn't what he'd meant at all. Hermione coughed loudly, trying to bring the group back on topic.
"As glad as I am to hear that gender equality extends to the Dark Arts, I think we're getting a little away from the question. And it seems important - I mean, since nobody wears earmuffs normally, what's to stop someone from bringing a Mandrake somewhere heavily populated and just leaving it? It would be as bad as a bomb." Hermione saw a few uncomprehending looks coming from the purebloods, so she hastened to explain. "That's a Muggle device that explodes."
Harry had been enjoying his butterbeer, only half listening to the conversation, but now he put his whole mind to the problem. What could one do to protect against an attack that one literally couldn't see coming? It gave Harry chills to think that he could be so vulnerable to something as unassuming as a plant.
From the slightly worried looks on his classmates' faces, Harry could see they were having the same thoughts that he was. Then, to everyone's surprise, Neville spoke up. The slightly chubby Gryffindor squeaked on the first syllable, and blushed deeply when everyone looked at him. But his voice, when he spoke, was more confident even than the day he'd faced down Harry, Ron, and Hermione outside the Tower.
"There's actually a way to make yourself permanently safe from the cry of the Mandrake. I, uh… I read about in a book that Professor Sprout gave me. The healers who grew Mandrakes for restorative potions wanted to make sure that they would never be at risk, so they experimented to find out what exactly Mandrake cries affected. What they discovered was that the specific resonance of the cry reaches the inner ear, bounces off, and sends a signal to the brain to shut down all activity in the body. But by altering the shape of their inner ear through advanced Transfiguration, they changed the specific signal so that it wasn't fatal any more. The procedure is really painful, but it's safe."
Ron looked from Neville to Harry with astonishment, and back to Neville. Then he turned accusing eyes on Hermione, who was looking slightly bemused. "How come you didn't know about this?"
Hermione sniffed disdainfully, and tossed her hair over one shoulder. "Contrary to popular opinion, as well as my own inclination, I don't know everything, Ronald."
Harry looked at Neville with wonder. Was this the same Neville who had trouble with the simplest spells, and squeaked every time Professor Snape even looked at him? That might have been the longest speech he'd ever heard from Neville.
Hermione turned away from Ron, and addressed Neville eagerly. "That sounds like it would work, and without any drawbacks, as long as your hearing isn't damaged. But it makes me wonder why all magical children don't have the procedure at birth; then they'd be permanently safe from at least one magical danger. Just like a vaccination, for mumps or the chicken pox."
Dean and Harry nodded agreement, hoping none of the other students would ask for clarification. Hermione's explanation of how vaccinations worked would likely be longer and more detailed than a biology teacher's.
"Well," Neville replied, seeming to gain a little more confidence from Hermione's reply, "they might if Mandrakes posed any real threat. But they are extremely rare in the wild, so much so that every known location where they grow is under surveillance by experienced wizards. And there are really strict rules governing who can own Mandrakes or grow them on their own. In Britain, I think there are only the ones at Hogwarts, St. Mungo's, and a few licensed potion shops that sell Mandrake restoratives."
Neville looked around the room, which was filled with Gryffindors looking at him slack-jawed, and turned bright red. Harry decided to help him out.
"Stop staring, you lot, haven't you ever read a book before? Let's move on from Mandrakes, I think Neville's pretty much exhausted them. Fred and George, what did you two want to share with us?"
Neville mouthed quiet thanks, and Harry responded with a thumbs up. The conversation moved on, but Harry made a mental note not to overlook Neville in the future. There was a lot hiding under his unassuming exterior, and Harry was beginning to think it was starting to come out into the open.
oOoOo
Early Saturday morning a bewildered Harry was shaken awake by Oliver Wood, the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. "We've got practice, Harry, come on. We've got to work hard if we want to win the Quidditch Cup this year. We would have had it last time, if not for… well, you remember."
Harry felt conflicted. On the one hand, he still harbored a little guilt at being unconscious during the Quidditch championship last year. On the other, it was still dark outside, and he felt as though practicing before dawn was a little bit much. He was debating the merits of telling Wood to sod off when the captain pulled him from his bed.
"Come on, let's go."
Harry was too sleepy to do more than protest weakly a few times. In minutes he was dressed, and followed Wood down to the common room. Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, and Angelina Johnson were already there, shooting dark looks at Wood and rubbing sleep out of their eyes. Nobody had the courage to say anything until Wood dragged the Weasley twins down from the fourth-year room. They proceeded to loudly complain until Wood threatened to hex them into submission.
"Right, you lot," Wood said, seeming far too chipper for so early in the morning. "I've booked the pitch for today, and we're going to make good use of it. Slytherin is looking strong this year, and the other squads aren't bad either. Cedric Diggory is always a threat, and Ravenclaw has some likely new prospects. We'll swing by the Great Hall on the way to the pitch, so grab some toast and a glass of orange juice as we go."
"Are you serious, Wood? We're only human, you know!" Fred exclaimed with outrage.
"Altitude is determined by your attitude, not your aptitude. So look at this as an opportunity to reach new heights, and quit your whining!"
"You know, that made no sense at all," Fred observed to his twin.
George nodded wisely, adding, "These inspirational speeches never do. I don't think we have a choice in the matter, though. Wood's on the warpath this year."
Harry shuffled along with his teammates through the halls, trying his best to ignore the muttered complaints coming from the paintings. In the Great Hall he managed to snag a few pieces of toast and cover them liberally with marmalade before Wood ushered them out, looking for all the world like a sheepdog herding a group of grumpy, sleepy sheep. The only other students at breakfast were a few Ravenclaws snatching hurried bites of food while pouring over their Arithmancy homework. That made Harry feel a little bit better as he was leaving; at least he was getting up early to play Quidditch. Things could have been worse.
When they reached the pitch the sky was just beginning to lighten. Harry was grateful, not for the first time, for the simple warming charm Wood had taught him that kept the early morning chill from settling into his bones.
When they were properly warmed up after a few drills, Harry didn't miss his bed at all. There was nothing as invigorating as the feel of wind ruffling his hair as he soared far above the Quidditch pitch. Now that sleep was just a wistful memory, everyone was starting to get infected by Wood's drive. The chasers were passing with unusual precision, and Fred and George were keeping their goofing off to a minimum.
Soon the sun was above the horizon, and Harry was both embarrassed and a little pleased to see his friends coming down from the castle. They must have just finished breakfast, and decided that watching the Gryffindor team practice was a better use of the weekend than studying. Under the eyes of their fellow Gryffindors, the team's play became even better. They were playing to the audience, but also treating the practice just as if it were a game. Harry made some spectacular catches, and was starting to feel that Wood's goal of winning the Cup this year was easily within reach.
Harry was dismayed when he saw that Colin Creevey was with them. The first-year had a bad case of Potter fever, and his obsession with getting Harry's autograph on a photo was extremely annoying. He seemed to be taking an inordinate number of pictures of Harry, and waved whenever he saw Harry looking in his direction. Harry just sighed, and tried not to let Colin distract him.
He ignored the first-year as much as he could, and threw himself into the practice. Harry was just beginning a steep dive after a dropped Quaffle when Wood blew his whistle. The six other team members flew to their Captain, who was watching the other end of the pitch with a worried expression.
Harry looked down to see what had attracted Wood's attention. After a second he realized what the problem was: the Slytherin Quidditch team, wearing their pristine green-and-silver robes and walking in formation toward the center of the pitch. Harry got a sinking feeling in his stomach. Whatever they wanted, he didn't think it was good news.
"What are they here for?" Katie asked. "Didn't you book the pitch for today?"
Wood nodded, but didn't answer. Fred grimaced, and shook a fist at the Slytherins. "Don't you worry, Wood. If they're here to make trouble we'll send them packing."
"Follow me, team," Wood said, gesturing to the ground. "Fred, George; let me do the talking."
Harry saw a familiar shock of silver-blond greasy hair, and proceeded to get a very bad taste in his mouth. What the hell was Malfoy doing on the Slytherin Quidditch team?
As they landed, Harry was reassured to see Hermione, Ron and Neville coming down to the pitch. The purely practical part of his mind was thinking that it would be nice to have a number advantage, just in the event that the Slytherins were planning something nasty.
Wood took the lead, heading straight for the Slytherin captain, Marcus Flint.
"What's this about, Flint? We booked the pitch for today."
Flint smirked, and Harry thought that he'd never seen anyone look so much like a troll. Except, perhaps, for Crabbe and Goyle, but Flint was full-grown and twice as nasty.
"That may be so, Wood, but we have special permission from Professor Snape to practice now." He brandished a small piece of paper in Wood's face.
"Let me see that." Wood snatched the paper and began to read it, his face growing redder with every word. Meanwhile, Harry moved to stand with Hermione, Ron and Neville, staring down Malfoy the whole time.
"Looks like you've got the pitch," Wood said at last. "Enjoy. It won't do you any good this year."
Fred, who had been remarkably good about keeping silent during this conversation, couldn't hold it in any longer. "Yeah, especially with ickle Draco as your Seeker. What's the matter, did everyone with any talent in Slytherin get sick and die?"
Draco scowled, but the other Slytherins only laughed. "Well," Flint replied, "Draco's father made us a very generous gift this year. Seven brand-new Nimbus 2001's. Pretty nice, don't you think?"
The Slytherins held out their brooms, and Harry couldn't help but be impressed. He knew from one of Ron's Quidditch catalogues that the new Nimbus was substantially faster even than his own broom. There were a few angry exclamations from the members of the team, and one from Ron that sounded more like envy.
Draco stepped forward, the smirk on his greasy face reaching from ear to ear. "That's right, my father decided to show his appreciation to his old house. Looks like you won't be able to hide behind your fancy broom this year, Potter. And as for those Cleansweeps you Weasleys are riding, well… let's just say you'd be better off keeping them in the broom cupboard."
Hermione bristled as only she could, like a lioness (a very small lioness) about to defend her pride. "At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in! They got in on pure talent."
"No one asked your opinion," Malfoy snarled. "You filthy little Mudblood!"
The Gryffindors gasped, leaving Harry wondering why they all reacted so strongly. Whatever Draco had said, it must have been awful indeed. Ron was livid, his face almost exactly the same shade as Uncle Vernon's during one of his rages. His wand came out immediately, Spellotape and all, and he pointed it straight at Malfoy. "You… eat slugs, Malfoy!"
There was a burst of green light and Ron was thrown backwards off his feet. When he stood back up he looked grey and shaky. Hermione was walking over to him, looking concerned, when he fell to his knees and retched violently. A slew of slugs poured out of his open mouth, eliciting disgusted noises from Gryffindor and Slytherin alike. That was immediately followed by all of the Slytherin team bursting into laughter. Colin Creevey had his camera trained on Ron, and was snapping pictures as fast as his finger could click.
Harry whirled on them, together with the Weasley twins, and his hand was reaching for his wand to finish what Ron had started. He was interrupted by a puff of smoke directly between him and the rest of the Slytherins. When the smoke dispersed, standing in the middle of the erupting brawl was none other than Professor Sarutobi.
The Defense Professor raised an empty hand, and announced, "the next person to raise their wand hand will lose it."
No one took him up on his challenge. "Now," said Professor Sarutobi, "what happened here?"
Flint answered quickest, his loud voice running right over the scattered protests of the Gryffindors. "We were just about to start our practice, since Professor Snape gave us permission. But that Gryffindor got angry, and hexed our Seeker without any warning!"
There was an angry outcry from the Gryffindor team, which Sarutobi silenced with a chopping motion of his hand. "Lesson number one," he said to Flint, "don't lie to people if you don't know the extent of their information. Especially not to your superiors. I witnessed the entire altercation, and I have to say I am entirely disappointed with all of you. Especially you," the Professor pointed at Ron, who was still kneeling in the grass and throwing up waves of slugs. "You attacked in anger, with a weapon that you already knew was unreliable. This is a fitting punishment for such poor tactical execution. Of course, I will also have to give you a detention."
The Slytherins laughed again, and Hermione covered her face with one hand while she rubbed Ron's back with the other. The Professor turned back to face the Slytherins, who stopped laughing immediately. He pointed a finger accusingly at Flint.
"Don't think you're off the hook either, young man. For lying to a Professor you will also serve a detention. And then there's you," he finished, speaking now to Malfoy. Harry hid a grin behind his fist. Sweet justice.
"You called the young lady a name that is, I understand, one of the most offensive terms in your culture. That is also deserving of a detention, which you will serve together with Mr. Flint and Mr. Weasley. Actually, if I remember correctly, Mr. Potter has a detention pending for that unfortunate incident with the car at the beginning of term. The four of you, then, will meet in my office at 8pm tonight. Perhaps I can teach you a few things that will help you avoid such an embarrassing display in the future. Gentlemen."
And then the Professor disappeared with a sharp crack and a puff of smoke, exactly the way he'd first appeared. Malfoy looked disgusted, and Marcus Flint was ready to spit nails.
Wood spoke into the ensuing silence. "We'll see you on the pitch. Let's go, Gryffindors."
Harry stepped in to take Ron's left side, supporting him along with Hermione as they walked back up to the castle. Madame Pomfrey was going to give Ron merry hell for this one. As for himself, Harry had to admit that he was sort of looking forward to this detention. If nothing else, the novelty value of serving detention together with Malfoy and Marcus Flint proved to be substantial. And Harry felt fairly sure that Professor Sarutobi wouldn't be giving out your average, run-of-the-mill detentions. He'd just have to wait and see. Hopefully Ron's spell damage would wear out by then, though. No matter what the Professor had planned, it couldn't be enjoyable if Ron was busy belching slugs.
oOoOo
Hiruzen was sitting behind his desk, smoking his pipe and grading papers contentedly, when he was hit with a rush of memories from a dispersed shadow clone. It was hours before he'd ordered the clone to report, so he jumped to his feet on full alert before he sorted the memories out enough to be sure that there was no immediate danger.
He couldn't help but laugh. He'd decided to have one of his clones watching over Harry Potter whenever he wasn't sleeping or in class, as a way of potentially heading off any attacks by Voldemort or Orochimaru. Hiruzen had seen the way that Orochimaru could shed bodies, and if his old student was in the market for a new body in this world Harry Potter might be at the top of the list. He was young enough to make a valuable vessel, and his status as the Boy Who Lived would doubtless appeal to Orochimaru's sense of melodrama. What Hiruzen hadn't expected was for his clone to get caught up in a schoolyard brawl.
"My clone must have been getting a little antsy," Hiruzen drawled to Enma the Monkey King, who was currently in staff form and propped up against his chair. "Why else would he have decided to give out detentions? I wonder if a detention given by a clone is even valid? I'll have to ask Dumbledore. For now I'll just go with it. What should I do with them for two hours? Maybe some practice duels, just to get a better sense of how these children are in combat."
Hiruzen's spoken train of thought was broken by a rap at the door. "Come in," he called out. It was probably a student, come to ask about some application of a spell. He'd been very pleased with the effect that his homework assignment had had on the students. Even if it was only the novelty of the assignment that intrigued them, it was still getting them to start thinking more like warriors.
But when the door opened, it revealed Professor Severus Snape. Hiruzen's danger senses started tingling. He didn't know much about the Potions Professor, but for some reason he never failed to give Hiruzen a bad feeling. That feeling seemed to be mutual, because Hiruzen had noticed frequent glares coming from Snape during mealtimes, when he thought he was unobserved.
"How can I help you, Professor? Please, take a seat."
Snape waved off the offer of a chair, and faced Hiruzen with a look of mingled suspicion and distaste. "I've been meaning to talk to you for a while. I understand you're behind the recent obsession of the students with the Dark Arts?"
Hiruzen took a sip of tea, marshaling his thoughts for what looked to be a tense verbal battle. "That's not at all what I've been trying to do. I simply believe that the Dark Arts, as they are called here, are separated by a very thin line, if at all, from other realms of magic. Even spells invented for an evil purpose may be adapted to accomplish good. What's more, good and evil are in themselves extremely volatile terms. In my experience, they are often nothing more than names given to two opposing sides on a battlefield, and it always seems to be the victors who determine which side is which. My assignment is meant to prepare my students for dangers they may not take seriously, or even consider to be dangers at all."
Professor Snape regarded Hiruzen gravely, and his eyes looking like they were trying to see past Hiruzen's face and into his mind. "That's all very well," the Potions master said at last, "but many would argue that you are exposing these children to ideas that they are not nearly old enough to understand. How do you think parents would react if they were told that their children are being taught to think about all magic as a tool for evil?"
"I think their parents would understand the necessity of recognizing and fighting against evil. They lived through Voldemort's rise to power, after all, did they not? For that matter, so did you. Do you think that Hogwarts adequately prepared you for the horror that you fought against in the war? Where I come from, Professor Snape, our children are taught how to defend themselves as soon as they can walk. They are taught that everything can be a weapon, and that the only sure way to survive is to be too strong for anyone to think about attacking you. As a system it has its flaws, but being under-prepared is not one of them."
Professor Snape became more alert during his last few sentences, looking like a bloodhound that had suddenly caught a scent. "Is that so? Where is it that you come from, exactly? Japan, I understand. Yet I happen to know that Asian wizards use wands just like we do. Yet you have none."
Professor Sarutobi smiled blandly, trying to conceal the fact that his muscles were tensed to spring. "First, that isn't entirely correct. I wouldn't expect you to know this, but the use of wands didn't become common in my country until early in the 1800s. Commodore Perry, an accomplished wizard who made his living as a Muggle naval officer, brought a shipment of wands when he opened negotiations with the Japanese. The wizarding community resisted Western magical influence for a while, but by the Meiji Restoration we were using wands like any British wizard. Only a few small, isolated villages held to the old ways. I am from one of those villages, and our magical tradition goes back hundreds of years, handed down from parent to child in an unbroken chain to this very day."
"Very interesting, to be sure," Snape said, looking as though he believed the opposite. "One wonders why, if you're so proud of your unbroken magical tradition, you would choose to come teach at a school for magic so far from your village."
Sarutobi inclined his head politely, but this time his smile had a little bite to it. "Perhaps one might wonder, but I would feel no obligation to enlighten him or her. My own reasons for being here are no one's business but my own, and of course the Headmaster's, since he hired me. You notice I have never inquired about the interesting tattoo on your arm, even though it closely resembles a sign I have been told belonged to Voldemort's closest followers."
Snape clutched his arm as though it had been burned, and looked like he was considering drawing his wand. "Never fear, Professor, I have no intention of either spreading that knowledge or judging you for it. Wartime has driven me to make many decisions of which I am heartily ashamed. Dumbledore must vouch for you if you're teaching here, and his trust is more than enough for me. Please forgive me for being so rude; I hope I haven't given offense."
"Not at all." Snape's reply was forced through gritted teeth. "My… apologies, I did not mean to pry. I was simply curious."
Hiruzen was grinning on the inside, now that he'd managed to get the pushy Professor on the defensive. "Not at all, there's nothing to forgive. I can understand the desire to satisfy one's curiosity – it's an urge with which I am quite familiar. But if you don't mind, perhaps we might continue this conversation another time. I have quite a few essays to get through, and due to an overabundance of youthful spirit I have a detention to attend later tonight."
Snape inclined his head slightly, looking like he had inadvertently swallowed a lemon. "Of course. Until next time." He turned to go, but stopped before opening the door. He swung around, and forced his lips into a sickly semblance of a smile.
"I almost forgot. Professor Flitwick requested my assistance with a project he's planning, a Dueling Club. There will likely be a lot of interest, since students are always attracted to the showier aspects of magic. Another Professor would help keep them under control, and assure more personal attention." Snape paused, and there was an ugly light of satisfaction in his eyes. "And I'm sure the students would benefit greatly from someone who has experience with magical warfare. I confess, I myself am very curious about how you manage without a wand. It would be a learning experience for us all."
The Hokage inclined his head graciously. "I'm honored by your invitation. Just let me know when and where, and I'll make sure to attend."
"I'm looking forward to it." Snape turned and left, his cloak swirling around his ankles.
When he was gone, Hiruzen let out a sigh of relief and let himself relax. There was no doubt that he'd made a potential enemy out of the Potions Professor, and he would have to be careful not to give too much away at this Dueling Club. But having someone scrutinizing his every move was only too familiar for the Hokage. And Snape wasn't nearly as threatening as Danzo, even if he promised to be as annoying as the Council at its most intractable. No, the Potions Professor would be a good reminder for Hiruzen to keep on his toes.
He began to whistle, and went back to grading papers. He'd have to work quickly if he wanted to prepare for his quadruple detention later that night. Even if he couldn't stop students from fighting, he was by Kami going to make sure that they were smarter about it in the future. All he had to do now was come up with some way to make the lesson stick.