Happy early birthday, Severus! We have a present for you but no idea how to deliver it. Any ideas? -P

How big is it? -S

Smaller than a bread bin -P

Strange metaphor there. Sounds like it's small enough for owl post. I can send you a note this evening, and you can send it back via return-post. Just make sure it's wrapped in brown paper with only my name on the outside. I can ask the owl to wait for you -S

Alright. I hope I'm awake when it arrives! Are you doing anything special for your birthday? -P

Does curriculum revision count? -S

Probably not, unless it's particularly riveting -P

It is not. Actually, I find myself hopelessly stuck -S

Really? What on? It sounded like you had a lot of ideas for the remedial stuff when we were talking about it before. -P

I'm working on the first year now. My mother pointed out to me that even though the theory is foundational and fascinating to me, eleven-year-olds doubtless find it inherently boring. So I'm trying to rework it to make it more exciting without sacrificing the critical teaching points. The problem I'm facing is I don't actually know what the students might enjoy -S

Well, what did you like about potions when you were eleven? -P

Theory and the satisfaction of producing a perfect brew. I was an unusual child -S

It's only January, and that might be the understatement of the year -P

Very funny -S

I might be able to help you out, though. We had a little get-together with Rachel for the New Year. My neighbor, you know. Her daughter Emma, who is 11, was there going on and on about her school, which she's incidentally been enjoying a lot more since the parents divorced and they're being civilized with eachother again. Anyway, I'm thinking your theory stuff is sort of akin to teaching things like the scientific method, and at the party I asked Emma what she thought of her classes and teachers. Turns out, science is her favorite class, and she had a lot to say about it. The funny thing was, she would go on and on about the activities in the class but never really what they were supposed to learn from the activities -P

My nightmare exactly -S

But when I asked her questions related to the experiments, like why she could use either baking soda or Mentos candy to make a 'volcano,' she was able to figure it out and answer correctly. I commented to Rachel about it, and she said kids that age just learn by doing -P

I really don't think they do, not theory, or my upper year classes wouldn't be in their current pickle -S

No silly, what I mean is they learn better with interaction, so you could do the same thing in your classes that Emma's teachers do in theirs. Find 'fun' potions that you can use to illustrate the theoretical principles you're trying to teach. Things you and I would consider useless or disgusting, like especially stinky or dumb party-trick potions are what you're looking for. I know those exist because Lily brought them home with her now and then. She had some horrible poo-smelling concoction she would spray in our parents' bathroom to prank our dad. Kids also like little explosions (Emma was quite clear on that). Maybe you could even conduct some demonstrations of what can go wrong, for instance with enchanting potions ingredients like that one student did, if you pick the right combination of potion and mistake to cause something exciting and flashy to happen but not imminently dangerous -P

That... actually sounds fun -S He would never instruct young students in deliberately mishandling their potions, of course, but tinkering around with beginner-level potions to make them do something unexpected was basically every potions master's hobby. He could have the students guess what would happen for a given mistake, or work backwards and try to deduce what had gone wrong. He frequently assigned that as extra homework for particularly egregious errors, but the students might be more willing to learn if it was something of a game in class. The upper levels would probably enjoy that activity, too. As for the other suggestion, he had no intention of teaching the students anything approaching the horrendous Maximum Turbo Farts draught, but the Hair-Raising Potion was a possibility.

Glad I could help. It is possible to like your job you know, Sev. It is even recommended -P

I do like my job -S

That was a bald-faced lie, and Petunia immediately called him out on it. Could have fooled me, with how much you complain about it -P

Severus hunched over the journal, feeling suddenly glum. Teaching would not have been his chosen vocation if left to his own devices, but he felt stuck with it now because he still needed to maintain his cover and ability to move between both Albus and the likes of Lucius Malfoy. Even if the Dark Lord never returned, he felt a duty to Albus to stay on because his status as a go-between was politically useful as well. And the pay was steady... Petunia started writing again. He took the distraction gratefully.

Now, don't laugh, but I have a non-birthday-related question to ask you today too. The boys are starting preschool tomorrow morning. I've been trying to trim Harry's hair all day, and it just doesn't work! I comb it down, then I turn around and it's sticking up in the back again. I might have gone a little mad and used Vernon's beard trimmer to shave it all down, just so it would be manageable... and it's grown back in two hours! I don't think he even realizes he's doing anything to his hair, but if he doesn't stop this, there's no way I can get him ready in the morning. Any ideas? -P

Severus did laugh. He laughed hard. It was funnier than it should have been with the ridiculous contrast to his own typical gloomy concerns. When he finally regained control, he had tears in his eyes. He chose to believe they were tears of laughter. He wiped his eyes and wrote back, I'm afraid the wild hair is something you're stuck with. James had the same sartorial affliction, and the grandfather Fleamont Potter even invented the Sleakeazy Hair Potion, presumably for the same reason. Some wizards and witches just look odd as a side effect of their innate magical abilities and can't help it -S

Really? That explains a lot, but begs the question, why is your world so silly? -P

Severus snickered again. It could be worse. Hair could be green. Or he could have horns. Moses (who was a wizard) did -S

The Moses? Now you're teasing me. -P

Not at all. Ancient Egypt and the ancient Near East were both thriving magical civilizations. Moses is extremely famous amongst wizards, the rogue, fantastically powerful enchanter and first muggle rights' advocate in recorded history. There is much debate as to whether the Egyptian plagues were Moses' work, the results of his duels with the all-magical Egyptian priesthood, or in fact mysterious divine intervention. -S No one wanted to believe Moses actually turned the Nile to blood, summoned swarms of vermin, spread disease, and killed children. That was all far too Dark for most modern wizards and witches to stomach. Everyone agreed he definitely had horns, though. They were included in his portrait in the first ever series of chocolate frog cards, which listed amongst his accomplishments the discoveries of Everlasting Fire (the bush was on fire but did not burn...) and the Abasigga batakh charm for equal division of fluids (used with incredible effect to part the Sea of Reeds, used routinely in decanting potions), conjuration of snakes, and the gift of Parseltongue, although that last was sadly stricken in the revised edition of the cards after the rise of the Dark Lord.

Please don't tell me all world religions are founded on a poor understanding of magic -P

Okay, I won't -S

Today must be a good day for you after all, to be so annoying -P

Your being in a tizzy about Harry's unfortunate hair situation made it a good day for me -S

I am not in a tizzy! -P

You said you went mad and shaved his head. That's a tizzy in my book -S

It wasn't shaved. There was still a centimeter -P

You told me not to laugh, but I am laughing -S

Oh, shut up -P

Better quit now, before I taunt you a second time -S

Oh, you're Tim the Enchanter now? When did you watch that film anyway? Vernon said you hadn't been to the theater in over a decade -P

What film? -S

Monty Python and the Holy Grail. It's very stupid. I thought you were referencing it -P

I was not. Isn't Monty Python a television show? -S He remembered hearing the name before, although he had never seen...any television shows, really. His family could never afford a television on Tobias Snape's income, even had they wanted one. Eileen's charms and hexes probably would have fried it in months, regardless, as they had most of the electric lights and all the more complicated gizmos Tobias ever acquired.

Used to be. Lily loved it -P

Must be where I heard of it. You didn't love it, I gather? -S

It was pretty funny, when I was a kid. No one expects the Spanish Inquisition! -P

...No, I can't say I was expecting that -S

Oh God, what can I say, it was that kind of humor. Let us never speak of this again -P

And you complain my world is silly -S

Severus indeed received a small package in the mail the following morning. Even if he had not recognized the bird, he would have known it was from Petunia, simply because his mother was in hospital and Minerva was the only other person who had given him a birthday present for the past few years (more biscuits; he assumed she kept a stockpile of them, and a checklist with all the staff's birthdays from their personnel files). None of the other staff had ever asked when his birthday was, not even Albus, so he never told them. He pocketed the flat parcel with outward impassivity, yet it seemed to burn against his side all through breakfast and his various classes of the day.

At dinner, he realized there were others who knew it was his birthday: the house elves. They also clearly knew he would not want a fuss, however, so though a slice of birthday cake magically appeared directly on his plate during dessert, including a fragment of the piped birthday message, the rest of the cake was nowhere nearby. He spotted it at the end of the Hufflepuff table, when several students cried "Happy birthday!" to an amazed and delighted first-year girl. He was glad. First-year Hufflepuffs were far better recipients of birthday cakes than either sixth-year Ravenclaws or fourth-year Gryffindors, representatives of whom also had birthdays today (he only knew this coincidentally, not because he cared which students he happened to share a birthday with). The fourth-year boy was annoyingly boisterous in class and had lost his house ten points for the occasion, only narrowly avoiding detention.

Upon his return to his quarters, he finally sat down to open Petunia's gift. Underneath the plain, brown paper he had suggested, the package was also wrapped in a much merrier and more colorful paper, depicting balloons and confetti. And the gift itself was a photo album. Severus' breath caught when he saw the first photograph was of Harry...when he was still a newborn, in Lily's arms. It was a moving, wizarding photo. Lily beamed up at the camera, and little Harry's lips made subtle sucking motion as he slept. The facing page was a similar, though of course motionless, image of Petunia and newborn Dudley. He turned the page, and the next. All the other pictures were taken much later, after Harry had moved to Little Whinging, and probably after Severus' first visit.

Severus' hands were shaking as he searched for the note he knew Petunia must have included. He founded it tucked into the final, empty photo-sleeve.

Dear Severus,

Happy birthday! I hope this can bring you some cheer when you're feeling down and lonely. The first photo is the one Lily sent me the day after Harry was born. I'm ashamed to say I was still holding a grudge then and did not even write back, but I did keep the picture. Since it's one of the weird, moving, wizard ones, I'd like you to keep it for Harry until he's older. I was always nervous about having something so blatantly magical in the house anyways, even after I started locking it inside the journal instead of the bottom of my socks drawer. Don't worry, I took a picture of it for myself with the camera Marge gave me for Christmas, so I still have something to show to Harry.

Best wishes for today,

Petunia and Vernon

The photo sleeve also contained some kind of pre-printed pamphlet from an organization called the British Standards Institute and two more hand-made cards from Harry and Dudley. Like their Christmas cards, these were decorated with stick figures, this time floating in clouds of abstract color, without the glitter. This time, Dudley's color selections won out, all greens and blues in contrast to Harry's riot of what must be every single color in the crayon box. Both signatures were legible, barely. Smiling, Severus returned to the front of the album and slowly flipped through. He lingered on the photos of this past Christmas. He got up to retrieve his own picture from that day to add at the end. Finally, he picked up the British Standards Institute pamphlet. A second note fell out of it.

Sev,

I was recently forced to attend a conference on standardization and quality improvement in engineering and production. Curse of being in management. I thought it was fair boring, but some of the talks reminded me of what you were complaining about on and off with having to rework your classes. They're all problems with process optimization, after all. Since you're the kind of chap who actually likes reading advice out of books for things most people just muddle through, thought I'd pass this along. The BSI mostly just does quality standards for almost all industry sectors, which I know won't be that relevant, but I thought the conceptual overview in this would give you an idea of what's available. I could track down literature for you about quality improvement in general or about the moves the government is making to standardize regular schooling. Busybodies just can't resist sticking their noses in! Anyway, let me know if you want to look through any of the other papers and books they dumped on me before I just throw them out.

Happy birthday,

Vernon

Curious now, Severus flipped through the ten-page pamphlet. It was full of odd phrases like "benchmarks," "organizational resilience," and "compliance navigation" that did not really mean anything to him out of context. Then again, Vernon was management. Severus' father had been labor. They were as different worlds as magic and muggle. There may be some useful ideas, but no doubt he would actually have to sit down and talk to Vernon for awhile before understanding what if anything would be helpful. The most likely point of overlap would be if he did decide to take concerns to the O.W.L. board, since bureaucracy functioned similarly everywhere, he mused.

He replaced the cards and pamphlet in the back of the album and closed it. Impervius, he cast silently, then Occultare Insipidus, disguising the album as an Uninteresting Textbook to any but himself, so long as it remained on a shelf where it could blend in. Finally, he cast Collorialibrus, to stick the pages together. The basic locking charm was an easy spell to undo and therefore would only hold against students, but it became much more secure when linked to the passkey charm. The question was what the code should be... he grinned and said out loud "Cryptochronous: Monty Python." The pages crinkled as they unstuck. "Cryptoppositus: I'm out of hellebore." The pages squeezed together again. There were almost no wizards or witches who would have even heard of the opening code, and the locking code would sound perfectly natural as a random thought from a Potions Master. And if he ever forgot, the pages would seal automatically after five minutes' abandonment. He patted the cover, and got up to place the album reverently on the bookshelf in his bedroom. Then he took up the Protean journal instead.

When he opened the journal, he laughed. At the end of his and Petunia's conversation from yesterday, Vernon had written him, I am never going to let my wife forget this! 'On second thought, let's not go to Camelot. It is a silly place.' To think she made me see Life of Brian with Marge instead of coming along -V

Thank you for the album, Petunia. Vernon, if you don't mind, put whatever books and things you have in a box for now rather than pitching them, and I'll look at them next time I'm there. I can't really say whether I'll want them or not -S

Author's note: Moses having horns is a thing in Medieval art, because of a mistranslation of the "light from his face" as "horns from his face." Apparently, it was supposed to be "horns of light," or something, meaning beams of a halo perhaps, but that's not what the artists got lol. Go forth and google the silliness. And then I decided Monty Python could be both the Dursley's secret guilty pleasure, since it's the right era and the show/movies were so popular. Vernon and Marge may be boring, but they have no fear of offense, afterall. The Evans family was originally more accepting of the weird than adult Petunia became.

I made up the fluid division charm based on an online Assyrian dictionary database. The other charms are all actually in the books or at least Latinate

The Beatles' Birthday Song is the best.

Sorry this update came later than usual. Work and then family party, you know how it is. Updates will continue to be Fridays and Sundays. And thank you for the reviews, as always.