The summer was drawing to a close, the days growing shorter and the nights longer. In the final week before term, Snape put the finishing touches on his lesson plans, finished his updated reading on Potions of the New World and Dark Magic from the New World and returned the books to the library. His research plans to combine traditional potions with New World formulas were extensive and had provided an ongoing focus to combat his habit of dwelling on his past, the war, and the emptiness he had envisioned for his future.
On his way back to the Headmaster's office, he took a detour down to the dungeon and walked by his old office, shortly to be Dr. Morgan Hunter's office, with feelings mixed between wistfulness (a useless emotion) at vacating this dark room in the dungeon in which he'd spent many a productive hour brewing, studying, reading, and grading, and a gnawing discomfiture at the pending arrival of the highly-esteemed Hunter. At least he retained his classroom for Advanced Potions and his storeroom. He slowed as he approached his old office, curiously noting the open door and light spilling into the corridor. He had removed the Charms from the locks, but the house elves had completed their preparations more than a week ago. As he passed slowly by, however, he was surprised to see a small young witch, obviously a student, dressed in a elaborately-embroidered turquiose robe (not even close to an appropriate uniform!), digging through the shelves, her long hair braided down her back. Most likely a 5th- or 6th-year student, but not one he recognized.
Snape's low voice carried through the nearly empty office, menace infused in every syllable. "Who do you think you are, rummaging through the Potion Master's office, young lady? I suggest you get yourself upstairs and into your uniform. Now."
The small witch straightened sharply at his voice, but kept her back to him. "I am Professor Morgan Hunter, thank you. The Deputy Headmistress assigned me this office." She turned, with a playful smirk on her face. "And whom do I have the pleasure of meeting?" she grinned, extending a hand enthusiastically as she strode towards him, her highly fashionable and clearly expensive silk robes fluttering as she came forward.
Snape choked slightly and attempted to regain his composure. THIS was the famous Morgan Hunter? This tiny witch with tanned brown skin, long dark hair in braids like a schoolgirl, and these garish robes? He extended his hand cautiously to meet hers. "Severus Snape, Headmaster. Apologies, Professor Hunter. I had no idea you'd be….."
Morgan Hunter released his hand, but returned his gaze with a solid, firm, and unyielding stare. "A Witch?" she said.
"So short," Snape replied, though the brief rise in color in his pale face told her that she's been on target.
She smiled half-way at his obvious faux pas. "Well, I am that. I'll probably need a stool or a ladder to fill up these shelves, or else wear out my wand." She gestured helplessly at her large collection of trunks, all polished leather labelled with ornate alchemical designs that he did not recognize and brass fittings, and then to the upper shelves. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Headmaster Snape. Your name seemed familiar to me, have we met before?" she asked, eyeing him with her uncomfortably steady gaze.
"I would have remembered you if we had," Snape replied, perhaps with more of a snap than he'd intended. He continued, taking more care to keep his tone at least cordial as his mind reeled, attempting to digest this most unexpected turn of circumstance. He fought through the fog to see the need to establish a good working relationship with a new staff member. "No, I don't think so. Perhaps you are thinking of our correspondence around your publication of a novel formulation for a Paralyzing Powder a few years' back." He recalled the exchange with some degree of satisfaction, as he made note of some errors in the publication and had the opportunity to have corrections provided.
Dr. Hunter took a moment to think, her index finger tapping her chin as she did so, her smile widening with dawning recall. "I guess that is so. It was a dreadful mistake the publisher made there. Nearly cost me my reputation! I got a few reports of uncontrollable laughter back on the incorrect formula." She suddenly grew serious, taking a step closer to him, needing to tilt her neck quite a bit to match the gaze of the much taller man. "I hope that didn't happen to you, did it?" Imagining uncontrollable giggles from this darkly serious and stiff man nearly brought her to giggles.
"Hardly," he replied, with no trace of humor. "I could tell from the preparation instructions that something was wrong, even without needing to make the end product. Cracking tarantunuts destroys their paralytic properties, but enhances the giggling potential," he noted drily.
Morgan Hunter laughed out loud, the sound echoing off the hard stone walls. "Indeed, it does. I had more than a few laughs imagining the scene in potions labs with that mix-up. But the publisher took the well-deserved blame. Made changes to the proofs after I'd approved them. Well, nevermind about that. So, I admit I'm a little confused. If your skills lie in potion-making, and here you are, what am I doing here?"
"As I am now Headmaster, I have additional responsibilities that preclude me from teaching a full class load. Hence, the need for additional staff to cover the introductory years. I will continue to teach Advanced Potions to our 7th and 8th years, however, as well as independent study for those few students whose talents merit … additional investment."
Hunter found it difficult to hide her irritation at being reminded she was being assigned only the lower grades, but did her best at remaining impassive. "Excellent. It will be good to have a capable peer," she said. "I am hoping to have time for our research on combining New World and Old World formulas."
"I'll be pleased to review your research proposals before you begin," said the headmaster.
Hunter frowned. "No disrespect intended, headmaster, but is that really necessary? Despite my...shortness...my credentials surely suggest a degree of competence that precludes a preliminary review," she said evenly, despite her desire to scoff and cross her arms tensely.
Snape appeared taken aback by her assertive reply. "No disrespect taken, Dr. Hunter. I assumed that it is common in the United States that collaborators typically review research proposals and comment. Are you more accustomed to working in isolation, then?" This was certainly his own style, but he was familiar with the more typical practice of research.
Yet again, color rose on the new Potions Mistress' face as she chided herself. Of course, she berated herself, he doesn't need to look at the proposal as her supervisor. He is thinking as a peer. Careful, she warned herself. No sense making an enemy before you even start. "Actually, yes, but only because I have never had a capable peer before." Now she allowed a fuller smile. "I'm looking forward to our collaboration."
"Excellent," Snape said. "I'll review your proposal while you review mine. I'll have it on your desk by the end of the first week of classes. Now I need to attend to business. Good day, Dr. Hunter," he said curtly, then turned quickly and vanished down the hall before she had a chance to reply.
Hunter found herself rather relieved to see him go, as the conversation had been anything but relaxing, welcoming, or warm. She sat and considered this first meeting with her supervisor. She was clearly not what he'd been expecting, but that was his problem. He was interested in research, but with what approach, she would need to wait to see, as he clearly wasn't planning to rattle on about it now.
She looked around the dark and cramped office, wishing her location had been a sunnier one upstairs, rather than here in the dungeons, where even the beautiful sunlight of an August day couldn't reach. And her apartment on the north side of the castle, had but small windows that let in barely any light or fresh air. Perhaps she would request a move, once she'd gotten a little more of the lay of the land here, to somewhere that faced south. Looking at her trunks, still mostly full despite the crowding on the shelves, she sighed and returned to unpacking, thinking of the year. One year, that's all she had. She'd better make the best of it. Though she'd hoped to find her mind free of the troubles of the past, despite the distance, the thoughts still ran through her head, though quieter than before. Intentionally and with effort, she pulled her mind from the past and set it to future, laying out plans. One step at a time.