(Severus Snape - PoV)
*Scritch Scritch Scritch*
It should be soothing.
Alone in my office once more, with naught but the quiet scratching of my quill to be heard.
...
It is an improvement. Most things are an improvement over having to deal with that brash, arrogant, hard-headed, fool of a Hufflepuff. How that girl managed to avoid Gryffindor...
Pausing my writing for a moment, I take a breath.
She did come around in the end, admittedly. And I do wonder exactly how far she is willing to go to protect her family...
Hmph. Gryffindors wouldn't much approve of covering up outright murder, would they? Or committing it, even? And she may be a bit too willing to compromise for their taste...
Shaking my head, I look over the piles of parchment on my desk.
Schedules. Request forms. Required documentation. Inventory, and other lists of all kinds. Letters.
...
And more and more. Classes haven't even begun and yet I am still buried. Once the hastily scribbled, near illegible messes that most students try to pass off as essays start rolling in?
Ugh. I could save a great deal of time if I just marked them all Troll to begin with, it's not like they don't deserve it...I wonder how long I could get away with it. At least a few weeks, I expect. Enough time to catch up.
But then Dumbledore and McGonagall would insist that I go back through them all anyway, putting me right back where I started.
I sigh.
No, the quiet of my office is not nearly as comforting as it should be. Not with so much on my mind, and so much work on my desk.
The start of the year is always busy, of course, but not like this. No, this is due to too many things happening at once.
The Ministry sticking its nose in, as usual.
A half-dozen new, useless bits of paperwork for this, another dozen for that. Trying to appear useful and productive by getting in everyone's way.
Dumbledore, for another.
He was obviously playing games when he made some very...interesting(terrible), last-minute changes to the schedule.
We actively avoid pairing Gryffindor and Slytherin for a number of classes. Seeing the rival houses put together over and over, even in my Potions class?
For all his genius, the old bastard so often seems surprised at the side effects and collateral incurred due to his plans. Even the ones a child could have pointed out beforehand.
I shake my head.
Of course, it was done before the Sorting. And even Dumbledore isn't mad enough to try to change the schedule again when classes start tomorrow.
As much as I would love to take some satisfaction from watching another of his plans blow up in his face, I can't. Not when he will undoubtedly shrug it off while the rest of us are stuck cleaning up the mess he made. The schedules for the third years are proving even more of a disaster than usual.
Of course, this all leads to the reason for his meddling. And likely the Ministry's poor timing as well.
Iris.
The scratching stops again. I have to, as my quill risks tearing through the parchment.
Taking a breath, I attempt to ignore the stack of letters on the corner of the desk. Letters with subtle, and not so subtle, inquiries about her from, associates.
She's also the reason for half of my prepared letters.
Dumbledore has proven he cannot be trusted with her well-being.
Andromeda may have taken Iris in, and have official responsibility for the girl, but what did she miss?
I know the old bastard. He will have held on to anything; any item, authority, or knowledge, he did not explicitly have to give up.
Hopefully Arcturus was thorough, but I am not taking chances. Not again.
Speaking of Blacks...
I grimace.
There is the cause of the rest of this mess. Including, specifically, the letter I am writing now.
To Arcturus.
Essentially throwing my lot in with a third manipulative, power-hungry old bastard.
...
My arm burns and my heart aches as I stare at the half-finished letter.
Twice, I have gone to old men, with desire in my heart and a wish on my lips.
The Dark Lord...held up their end, in all honesty. I wanted power. Knowledge. Respect. Allies. The chance for revenge.
I was given all I asked for...yet I balked at the price. Even before the end, I questioned if it was worth it. Afterward?
...
Then Dumbledore?
The "unbreakable" enchantment on the quill finally gives out and it snaps in half, having suffered too much abuse.
...
Karma, perhaps. The Dark Lord upheld their part of our bargain, and I did not.
While I have done all Dumbledore has asked of me for a decade, despite the bastard failing my only request. My only demand.
...
My shoulders slump as I continue to stare at the unfinished letter.
Arcturus has a better track record than Dumbledore. Or the Dark Lord, for that matter.
But my demands are more significant.
Protect Iris. Avenge Lily.
Which way will things go this time? Will my Patron fail me again? Will I fail?
Or...
I frown.
Is there a negative scenario, otherwise?
I've been the minion of a deranged, murderous maniac. I will do so again if I have to.
I am currently the minion for a...Hah. A deranged, non-murderous maniac. It is honestly a downgrade, objectively speaking, but I can tolerate it. Most of the time.
It doesn't matter if he wants to drown me in irritation and mundane nonsense or bloody my hands once more. If it works? It will be worth it.
What is left for me to lose? My pride? A hundred different lies, depending on who I am interacting with. My life?
...
If only I could be so lucky...
...
...
Withdrawing another quill from the desk, I return to the letter.
There is too much to do to waste time dwelling.
A careful touch of ink,
*Knock Knock*
...
*Sigh*
It is the first day. Classes have not even started. Do you have to bother me right now? Truly?
Can you not go cause havoc elsewhere? Raid the kitchens? Curse a Gryffindor? Anything else, so long as you don't get caught?
*Knock Knock Knock*
Of course not.
"Enter."
My frown, already present, only grows when a first-year steps inside. Ryan Chambers, the boy who spoke out against Coeus.
Why is he here? He can't have gotten into another altercation, he is still walki- Ah. He misunderstood when I told him "tomorrow". I meant Tuesday, as it was already past midnight. He assumed I meant today.
Lovely.
My gaze turns towards the piles of parchment covering my desk as he takes a seat.
I really don't have time for this...Not right now.
Sighing internally, I return my attention to the boy.
His body language is extremely defensive. He doesn't seem to want to take his eyes off of me, but won't really look at me either. And the way he almost withdraws into himself is a sharp contrast to how he acted last night.
My frown deepens.
Nervousness or defensiveness is understandable in this situation. Expected. However...
Palming my wand under the desk, I barely mouth the word.
"Legilimens."
Surface thoughts are relatively easy, a light touch is all that is needed. I wouldn't even need to physically cast if I could make eye contact. Without, however, it is best to play it safe.
...staring at me. Bloody creep. Just make up your mind! Get it over with! Which hole do you want, top or bottom?! Are you more like the last headmaster or my old man? I ho-
The flow of thoughts cuts off when my eyes shut. I take a slow, deep breath before opening them again.
With a careful swipe of my hand, the various notes, letters, and paperwork cluttering my desk are pushed to the side.
Placing my elbows on the desk, I steeple my fingers and give the student in front of me my full attention.
"Mr. Chambers," I address him. "We have much to talk about."
(FIlius Flitwick - PoV)
Hmm. I admit it is an interesting theory, Mr. Scuffling. A very interesting theory. I am not certain I can support it, however.
Minerva grumbles to herself as I turn the page.
While I always keep a couple of books on me, just In case, she brought a stack of paperwork to chew through.
I suspect she would be happier if she transformed and took that metaphor more literally.
Most of the others converse quietly. Aurora and Rolanda are discussing some Quidditch match or another, while Pomona does her best to drag everyone else into conversation. It works well enough, save for Filtch, sulking in his usual corner, and Sybill. Ah, Sybill...
Glancing away from my book, I check on the unconscious woman once more.
*Sigh.*
I suppose we should be happy she made it here at all, given she could barely walk. Then again, I suspect Minerva would have preferred the remaining sherry spill someplace other than her robes.
I do wonder, sometimes...
My gaze turns towards Dumbledore, who sits surrounded by letters.
I always, always, try to give others the benefit of the doubt. Dear Sybil certainly makes that hard, at times. Many of her comments and...general persona, make one...doubtful, of her claims. Her many, many claims.
Events like tonight should only make the problem worse.
Dumbledore, however, appeared to pay close attention to her slurred words.
"The Dark One is among us!" she claimed. "They will rise! They will rise, as the end nears!"
...
I have heard such before. More than once. Shouted, at me in particular, by drunks stumbling out of Knockturn Alley.
Dumbledore's reaction to her words, however, and his evasiveness, after?
Not a good sign. Not a good sign at all.
The door opens and Severus enters with his usual brisk walk.
(Almost) all eyes are on him as he takes his seat. Sybill, of course, remains asleep.
I am not the only one to glance at the clock as he gazes around the table silently.
"Well?" he asks irritably. "Are we going to begin or not? I do have other obligations."
I sigh as more than a few of the others glare at the man.
Does he have to go out of his way to antagonize everyone around him?
Minerva looks torn for a moment, between sighing herself or stabbing him with her quill.
She closes her eyes.
"Very well. We can start with why you are so late, Severus. It is not like you. Is there a problem we need to be aware of?"
"No," he replies dismissively. "One of my students came to me late this morning. They have some...personal issues, they require assistance with."
Mmm. I nod.
A good reason. Poor timing, but it cannot be helped. For any other faults he may have, Severus does look out for his students.
"Personal issues?" Minerva presses.
He finally looks at her properly.
"Personal issues. I keep my students' confidence."
Minerva's eyes narrow slightly.
"When appropriate, I hope?"
Minerva...
"There is a reason my students feel they can come to me with their concerns."
The 'unlike yours' is left unsaid, but clearly heard.
Dumbledore cuts in before she can reply.
"Your methods appear to work well for your House, which we all appreciate, Severus. And I am certain you will share any truly dangerous issues that may appear, yes?"
Severus regards Dumbledore for several moments before replying.
"I will, of course, seek...appropriate, assistance, if necessary."
Dumbledore nods, a smile on his face.
Did he really take that at face value? And miss what Severus was actually saying?
I don't understand how the Headmaster can be so talented at reading some people while having such enormous blindspots for others.
Such is one of the greatest reasons I declined to join his not-really-secret "Order".
I cannot trust him.
He has very much earned his title as the world's greatest wizard. And has similarly earned his reputation for wisdom and great insight. But his failures in that regard are not insignificant, and nearly always avoidable. Despite his reputation, his successes, and his goals, he is not a man I can truly trust my life to. He is not a man I can follow into battle.
I can feel my ancestor's disappointment. Alas, Glorious Flitwick, I would prefer not to join you just yet.
"Excellent. Moving on, I know there have been some complications with this year's schedules,"
He is forced to pause as most of the room coughs simultaneously.
What was he thinking? Aside from appearing to be a terrible idea to everyone else, did he really have to wait until the last minute to spring it on us? If he had let us know beforehand, given everyone time to plan...
Another reason I declined. His regular withholding of knowledge, a generally abominable trait, in and of itself.
"Yes, my apologies," he gives an embarrassed smile. "Regardless, I hope everything is ready for tomorrow?"
...
Giving in after a few moments, Minerva sighs and drops her glare.
"They are. Finally," she admits, shuffling papers around, bringing several to the top. "Most were distributed this morning. The hold-up was the Third Year's, as usual."
Third is always the hardest to organize, with students picking up extra, different, individual classes. And then often changing their minds before the year starts.
The meeting moves on from there, mostly covering the usual topics until Pomona speaks up.
"Ah, I did have a question myself. A number of my students came to me, asking about the Trolley Witch. As far as I can tell, she did not make her rounds at all this year. None of my Hufflepuffs saw her.
Dumbledore frowns but it is Severus who answers.
"I imagine it would be rather pointless for her to make the rounds with no trolley, and presumably no candy."
That does sound like it would present a problem.
Severus shrugs.
"If they were truly worried about her, or hungry, for that matter, they should have visited the Buffet Car."
...The what?
It appears I am not alone in my ignorance, as Pomona gives Severus a questioning look.
"The...Buffet Car? I was not aware the Express had such a thing."
She looks around the room but most everyone else shakes their heads as well. Even Dumbledore does not speak up otherwise.
"Oh?" Severus speaks after glancing around the room himself. "None of you have tried it, then? It is quite good. I would advise against asking exactly what it is you are eating, however."
I grimace.
Yes, I learned that lesson myself, when trying Goblin cuisine.
My tongue enjoyed it. My mind? Not so much.
"What," Dumbledore interjects before anyone can inquire more about this mysterious Buffet Car, "happened to her trolley?" he asks.
Severus raises an eyebrow.
"You did not notice it?" he replies. "At the feast?
Dumbledore frowns.
There was a great deal going on at the fest this year, Severus...
"It caused a bit of a stir at the Slytherin table. Coeus was quite proud of his latest acquisition."
Ah, never mind. Of course one of this year's...notable, students would be at the heart of the issue.
"...He bought the entire Trolley?" Pomona questions.
Minerva groans, resting her face in her hands.
"Indeed," Severus replies. "Apparently, he forgot to 'restock' this summer, and so decided it would be easier to simply buy everything."
"And she let him?" Dumbledore asks.
Severus glances at him.
"She did," he replies. "Though Coeus claimed to have no idea what he was actually buying, and the real cost was significantly more than gold."
Pausing after his ominous statement, he leans back in his seat.
"Incidentally, if you do replace the Trolley? I would advise against letting the Trolley Witch make her own...alterations, to it."
Dumbledore eyes him silently for several moments before replying.
"Of course, Severus. I will keep that in mind. I must ask why, however."
"Coeus is happy to tell everyone who will listen about how his 'Death Trolley of Candy' nearly killed him on the train, shortly after he bought it."
Eyes widen around the room. If anyone wasn't paying attention before they very much are now.
"Then not long afterward, Iris nearly killed their entire group trying to fight it."
He frowns.
"Twice. She could have killed them all twice before they even got off the train."
"T-"
"Then," he interrupts Dumbledore, "last night I had to reorganize the sleeping arrangements for the first years. The other boys refused to share a room with him after his trunk started a fight with the trolley in the middle of the night."
His...his trunk?
"Both...objects, threatened me while I was in the room, questioning him about the night's events."
Minerva is the first to respond.
She starts laughing.
"Ahahahahaha!"
It is her turn to draw everyone's attention with such a very out-of-character reaction.
"Hahaha! Oh, I am so glad they are not in my house this time! Haha! Ahh... At last! At last, it's someone else's turn to experience what it's like trying to deal with Marauders!"
Oh no...
Severus has been slowly relaxing, somewhat, as he speaks. Finding some release in finally airing his own recent issues, I like to think. At her comment, he tenses once more.
The little light in his eyes vanishes as he regards her blankly.
"I know exactly what it is like, trying to deal with Marauders," he replies. "I had to deal with them making my life absolute hell my entire time here, while you..." he trails off, looking around the room. "Most of you, in fact, did nothing about it."
Minerva's mirth vanishes as the room gets very quiet and more than a little awkward.
We have all avoided the subject, but it has been obvious for a long time exactly how he feels about the matter.
"Severus," Dumbledore begins but the man in question stands up.
"Excuse me. I have other duties to attend to, and students to actually help," he states before looking at the Headmaster.
"Perhaps, if they are helped properly, they will not follow in my footsteps."
I close my eyes at the reminder of his personal history. Of the path he followed after leaving Hogwarts.
Did our actions...my actions, or lack thereof, truly lead to such?
And will they again?
...
