Snape's Point of View 2: Post-HBP PTSS version.
This thread exists for the purpose of rewriting book scenes from Snape's point of view. It is a continuation of the original Common Room thread, and I hope they can be merged eventually. (PTSS? Post Traumatic Severus Snape, of course!)
You can rewrite your own scene from HBP, or rewrite scenes from previous books based on the new knowledge you've gotten from HBP, or write up any Snape scenes not actually appearing in the books.
It is not necessary to be on Snape's side.
I'll kick off with this bit of angst-ridden rubbish....
The storm rages.
Darkness sweeps, shrieking, across the courtyard.
Other voices, other bodies--they are meaningless.
Eyes meet .
Volumes are spoken
Don't do this.
Sixteen years I stood at your side,
Sixteen years of shared danger and triumph.
You won my trust, and I know I did not make it an easy battle.
You became my friend.
You were the loved family member that Nature had failed to give me.
Do they mean nothing?
Don't do this to me.
I search your eyes.
They are steely
They give no warmth, no hope.
The storm rages
A wand is raised.
I thought I knew you
And yet you are capable of such unimagined cruelty
Did you always mean to do this in the end?
To simply cast me off
Into that screaming, shrieking darkness I know too well?
Why would you do this to me?
How can you do this to me?
How can you do this to me?
How can you do this, Dumbledore?
How can you make me
The Witches of Castle Crabapple
HOGWARTS STAFF MEETING---THE ASP AT HOGWARTS---THE PRINCE OF HOGWARTS
I Trusted Severus Snape
Last edited by Inkwolf; April 5th, 2007 at 2:35 am.
Thought I would leap into this thread again with a what Snape might have been thinking in Chapter Two scene. Here goes. I hope you like it. Sorry it's a bit lengthy. I think it might actually be longer than the actual chapter two. I got a little carried away.
"Who could be calling at this hour?" Severus Snape grumbled to himself as he made his way to the door. He switched off the Wizard Wireless on his way to the door. Typical that guests would arrive unannounced in the middle of his favourite programme.
He opened the door a fraction and looked outside.
"Narcissa! What a pleasant surprise!" he greeted her, silently wondering what it was that couldn't wait until morning. It had been bad enough with Lucius harping on and nagging at him for the last year; now he was in Azkanban it was his wife plaguing him.
"Severus, may I speak with you?" she asked. "It's urgent."
Always is, Severus thought to himself. I wonder what it is this time. Draco fell off his broomstick or a misbehaving house elf? "But of course." he replied aloud, silently cursing he position he was in that prevented him speaking his mind.
He stood back to let her in, and it was only then that he spotted Narcissa's older sister had accompanied her.
"Snape," she said curtly as she passed him.
"Bellatrix," he replied, smirking slightly as he recalled how Bellatrix had looked in her prime. Every snide remark she had ever made about his appearance came to mind and he wondered where to repay her in kind now...the years she had spent in Azkaban had not been good to her.
"So, what can I do for you?" Snape asked after they had all sat down.
"We...we are alone, aren't we?" Narcissa asked quietly.
Severus managed to stop himself from rolling his eyes at the question. Did the woman seriously think he would entertain guests in this house?
"Yes, of course. Well, Wormtail's here, but we're not counting vermin, are we?" he replied aloud, wondering whether he had put down enough mousetraps the previous week. Pointing his wand at the wall of books he magically opened the hidden door, and the small man known as Wormtail was revealed on the staircase. No, not enough traps, Severus thought to himself. But since he was still around he might as well make use of him.
"As you have clearly realised, Wormtail, we have guests."
Wormtail walked into room and Snape watched him caressing his silver right hand with his left. If only he showed that much care when cleaning the place might look less shabby and more fit for company, Snape scowled.
Wormtail made to greet the two women but Snape quickly cut him off with instructions to fetch drinks. If Wormtail got chatting to the two women he'd never get shot of them.
Wormtail winced as though Snape had thrown something at him. Don't tempt me, Snape thought as Wormtail, for the dozenth time since he had been at Spinner's End, declared that he was not a servant.
"Really? I was under the impression that the Dark Lord placed you here to assist me," Snape said in a deceptively pleasant conversational tone.
"To assist, yet - but not to make you drinks and - and clean your house!"
Clean? Snape thought to himself. Is that what he called it? The first year students at Hogwart's were more adept at cleaning spells than Wormtail was. But at least he made it clear to the uninvited guests where the fault lie when it came to the poor state of the house. But still...
"I had no idea, Wormtail, that you were craving more dangerous assignments. This can easily be arranged: I shall speak to the Dark Lord - "
"I can speak to him myself if I want to!" Wormtail interrupted.
"Of course you can," Snape sneered, knowing full well that Wormtail had things pretty easy right now and once the new school year started he would have it even easier. "But in the meantime, bring us drinks. Some of the elf-made wine will do."
Snape watched Wormtail hesitate a moment as if he might argue. He wondered if he would water it down to make up for the nips he had been indulging in when he thought Snape wasn't looking. Wormtail returned with the drinks and dropped them on the table with all the grace of a pregnant hippo before slamming out of the room. You just can't get the help these days.
Severus poured a glass for himself and one for each of his guests. He noticed Bellatrix didn't emulate her sister and thank him. Azkaban obviously hadn't done anything to improve her native bad manners.
He wondered who he should propose a toast to. Absent friends? He looked at Narcissa's concerned expression...perhaps not. "The Dark Lord," he said and they joined in him the toast.
When she had finished her second drink Narcissa finally spoke.
"Severus, I'm sorry to come here like this, but I had to see you. I think you are the only one who can help me - "
Flaming women, Severus silently rolled his eyes as he held up his hand to stop her. Bad enough she comes round at such an hour, she hasn't even the sense to realise when to hold her tongue before running off at the mouth. Pointing his wand at the hidden door he soon heard the sound of Wormtail scurrying back up the stairs.
"My apologies," said Snape, explaining that Wormtail had been listening at doors recently, not that he should have to explain it to the infernal woman since she had seen him listening not half an hour ago.
"Severus," Narcissa continued once Wormtail was safely out of earshot. "I know I ought not to be here, I have been told to say nothing to anyone, but-"
"Then you ought to hold your tongue!" Bellatrix snarled as she interrupted.
Great Severus thought with a degree of impatience. Nothing changed between the two sisters, still squabbling, still unable to agree on anything, and still dragging him into the middle of their petty little arguments.
"Particularly in present company!" Bellatrix continued.
Oh great, we're back on that again are we? Snape sighed, quietly enough that they couldn't hear him.
"Present company?" he asked instead. "And what am I to understand by that Bellatrix?"
"That I don't trust you, Snape, as you very well know!"
Yes, we're back on that again, Severus thought. How many times would the woman drag this up before she'd learn to mind her own business. She was worse than Rita Skeeter for prying into the lives of others. Maybe he should suggest she take up a new career in that area...the amount of rubbish the Daily Prophet had been churning out in the last year they could hardly do much worse.
Snape turned to Narcissa who looked like she was going to be watering down the wine even more if they carried on like this much longer.
"Narcissa, I think we ought to hear what Bellatrix is bursting to say; it will save tedious interruptions." Snape turned to her sister. "Well continue, Bellatrix. Why is it that you do not trust me?"
"A hundred reasons!" she declared in a loud voice as she slammed her glass upon the table. If she breaks the glass then she can clean up the mess Snape resolved as she launched into the various complaints she had about him.
"Where were you when the Dark Lord fell?" Enjoying rather a nice feast at Hogwart's actually.
"Why did you never make any attempt to find him when he vanished?" What? Am I a private investigator now?"
"What have you been doing all these years that you've lived in Dumbledore's pocket?" Ah, the sour grapes that I've not been in Azkaban with her.
"Why did you stop the Dark Lord procuring the Philosopher's Stone?" Because I don't have x-ray vision.
"Why did you not return at once when the Dark Lord was reborn?" Didn't the woman ever read Hogwart's: A History? How many people still think you can apparate out of there for goodness sake?
"Where were you a few weeks ago, when we battled to retrieve the prophecy for the Dark Lord?" Like I'd be getting myself caught up in the middle of that disaster waiting to happen!
"And why, Snape, is Harry Potter still alive, when you have had him at your mercy for five years?" Because it's far more fun making him suffer as long as I can.
Snape looked at Bellatrix when she came to the end of her rants. She had a little more colour in her cheeks now that she had had her say, unlike her paler sister who was still sitting with her face in her hands.
He wondered whether to give them the explanations he knew would keep them quiet only for a short time. Rumours never truly died and the more he tried to justify his actions the more it would seem like defending himself and covering up lies. No matter what he said there would always be someone who didn't believe him. It had taken long enough for Voldemort to accept his story; somehow he suspected Bellatrix would be a tougher audience than even the Dark Lord was.
But there was no choice, he would have to answer her questions or the pair of them would never leave him in peace.
"Before I amswer you - oh, yes, Bellatrix, I am going to answer! You can carry my words back to the others who whisper behind my back, and carry false tales of my treachery to the Dark Lord! Before I answer you, I say, let me ask you a question in turn. Do you really think that the Dark Lord has not asked me each and every one of those questions? And do you really think that, had I not been able to give satisfactory answers, I would be sitting here talking to you?"
Snape watched her hestitate. He knew she was itching to say what she really thought but did not know whether he would carry her words in turn back to Voldemort.
"I know he believes you, but-"
Ah here it comes he though. "You think he is mistaken? Or that I have somehow hoodwinked him? Fooled the Dark Lord, the greatest wizard, the most accomplished Legilimens the world has ever seen?"
What Bellatrix, no answer? Coward!
Severus then went on to explain his actions, making sure to draw attention to the points where he was working on Voldemort's orders. She knew his orders as well as he did, and could not argue against them.
When it came to explaining why he had not tried to find Voldemort he did not hesitate to bring Lucius to the forefront as an example of another person who had not bothered to track down the defeated wizard. Was she going to criticise him in front of his beloved wife? Didn't think so, he thought as she skimmed over that point and instead drew attention to the fact she had spent years in prison for him.
Big deal, Severus thought to himself. Does she think she's getting a pat on the back from me because she was stupid enough to get herself caught and thrown in Azkaban?
"Of course, you weren't a lot of use to him in prison, but the gesture was undoubtedly fine -" Severus said in a bored tone, having heard more than enough about her trials and tribulations in the wizard prison to last a life time.
"Gesture!" Bellatrix shrieked. "While I endured the Dementors, you remained at Hogwarts, comfortably playing Dumbledore's pet!"
Severus drew a breath. What was the point of him sending Wormtail away from the door if this stupid woman kept bellowing at the top of her lungs? They could probably hear her at Diagon Alley the volume she was yelling at.
"Not quite," he replied however, hoping that his quiet calm tone of voice would be hint enough for her. "He wouldn't give me the Defence Against the Dark Arts job, you know. Seemed to think it might, ah, bring about a relapse...tempt me into my old ways."
There see, he thought to himself, I know all about sacrifices. He was not surprised to find that she was not impressed at what he had given up to remain at Hogwarts but he sealed any question of his usefulness of being there with a final dig..."I had sixteen years of information on Dumbledore to give him when he returned, a rather more useful welcome-back present than endless reminiscences of how unpleasant Azkaban is..."
But Bellatrix was still unsatisfied and only a final point that the Voldemort accepted his reasons so she should to finally put a stop to her questions on why he had stayed at Hogwarts.
When it came to the whole business about the Philosopher's Stone Severus at least knew that the simplest explanation was the best. He didn't know that Quirrell was harbouring Voldemort and had done everything to stop him getting the stone. He wondered why no one had realised this point in the first place. Was it too much to ask that they use their brains? Or had Azkaban managed to destroy basic reasoning skills too?
Severus then went on to explain why he had been late returning and again made sure to press home the point that Voldemort was pleased that he had done as he had. Bellatrix might argue with him but the Dark Lord was anoother matter entirely.
"But what use have you been?" sneered Bellatrix. "What useful information have we had from you?"
Good grief, was there no end to her questions? What does she want information for anyway? Was she about to start a Death Eaters newsletter with a section spy reports from Hogwarts and personal tales from inside the walls of Azkaban?
He pointed out to her that his information went directly to Voldemort but only to have her argue that he in turn shared all his information with her.
Foolish woman...he never shares everything with anyone!
"He calls me his most loyal, his most faithful-" Bellatrix bleated.
"Does he?" Snape replied. "Does he still, after the fiasco at the Ministry?"
"That was not my fault!" Bellatrix retorted as Snape mentally chalked a point onto his score chart.
He was so busy mentally counting the points he didn't realise that Bellatrix had brought Lucius into the discussion again, much to the fury of Narcissa who finally let on that she was actually listening to the conversation.
"There is not point apportioning blame," Snape interjected eager to put a stop to the feminine squabbles before they started. "What is done is done."
He wondered at the wisdom of his final words when Bellatrix homed in on them to once again bemoan the fact that he was not at the Ministry.
Humph, if I'd been there he'd have had the prophecy with no problem, Snape thought to himself. I wouldn't have been picking a fight with a bunch of juvenile delinquents and bodging the job.
He reminded Bellatrix once again of his orders from Voldemort, knowing she could not argue with them.
But of course it was not enough to satisfy Bellatrix who once again brought up the subject of the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.
How many times do I have to explain the concept of the secret keeper enchantment? Snape sighed.
He explained the concept nevertheless and decided things might move a little faster if he could just get her on side and so offered a little praise for her efforts in finishing off Sirius Black. He toasted her but she didn't seem to appreciate the gesture. Pity, since he meant it wholeheartedly. Sent through the veil by Bellatrix Black....couldn't have happened to a nice person.
Finally Snape settled her question of why he had not killed Harry Potter. He wondered whether to point out to her the fact that he was the luckiest brat on the face of the Earth or just to give her the same explanation he had given Voldemort. He decided on the latter and after putting forward his explanations for why Dumbledore still trusted him Bellatrix finally seemed at a loss for words.
He wouldn't say she was satisfied but at least she had shut up questioning him long enough for him to turn to Narcissa and find out what the heck it was she wanted.
"Now...you came to ask me for help Narcissa?"
She looked up, her expression showing that she was likely to fall apart at any moment. As long as she waited until she had left before she collapsed into hysterics, he thought.
"Yes, Severus. I - I think you are the only one who can help me, I have nowhere else to turn. Lucius is in jail and..."
Oh great, bring up Azkaban again why don't you? Just the thing to set your sister off again. Oh and here come the waterworks.
"The Dark Lord has forbidden me to speak of it," Narcissa continued. "He wishes none to know of the plan. It is...very secret. But-"
"If he has forbidden it, you ought not to speak," Snape interrupted, hoping she would take his advice and make her excuses and leave. "The Dark Lord's word is law."
Narcissa looked like she might take his advice and Bellatrix was certainly in agreement with him for the first time since her arrival. It was the fact that she was agreeing with him that made him wonder what it was that they knew that he didn't. With the pretence of checking for spies on the deserted street Snape considered his options. Voldemort never trusted anyone with all his secrets and it looked like the sisters had one that he didn't. He wondered how hard it would be to get it out of them. He looked back at them and realised it would not be that difficult at all, especially if they thought he already knew.
Narcissa readily believed that he already knew of the plans although he was not surprised to find that Bellatrix was rather more sceptical. Though he knew he could have handed her the plans written on scrolls in his own blood and she still would have believed he didn't know and somehow had managed to fake them. There really was no pleasing her at all.
He turned his attention back to Narcissa who was weeping openly over Draco who was clearly involved in this plan of theirs.
Draco? he thought to himself. What sort of idiot would entrust Draco with anything? Voldemort really had lost it this time, he might be back in body but his mind was far from restored if he thought Draco Malfoy was worth trusting with anything even remotely important.
Narcissa continued to bewail her son's fate, moaning about punishments in return for Lucius's mistakes. He wondered briefly what mistake she was referring to - the mess at the Ministry of Draco himself.
He was still trying to figure out what it was that her darling boy had been asked to do when Narcissa began to suggest and then openly ask that he take over the job instead.
He was still hedging his bets on what to reply when Narcissa began fell down at his feet and began sobbing and moaning on the floor.
It must be bad if the snobbish and vain Narcissa Malfoy was grovelling in the far from clean floor for a favour.
Bellatrix at least had finally stopped getting on Snape's case and was now seemingly doing everything she could to upset her sister further. Each time she opened her tactless mouth she triggered another sob, scream or moan from her younger sister.
Whatever it was that Draco was to do was clearly something life threatening. He just wished that one of the two women would get to the point, preferably before daybreak.
He suggested that he thought the Dark Lord did want him to complete the task if Draco failed but it didn't seem to either appease the women or encourage them to put forth any useful information. He had to admit though that he had a suspicion of what it was that Draco had been ordered to do. A suspicion that seemed ridiculous when you considered Draco was only sixteen years old...but a valid suspicion for the ambitious young student nonetheless.
Narcissa meanwhile was screaming and sobbing enough that even Severus had had his fill and he manually lifted her up and steered her back to the sofa before slamming another glass of wine into her hand.
She drank a little, and spilled more, as she begged Severus to help, guide and watch over Draco in the months to come.
Severus gave vague promises which he hoped would suffice. The breaking of the glass as she flung it across the room told him that it wouldn't. A moment later she was back on the floor at his feet again and she spoke the fateful words as she asked him to make an Unbreakable Vow.
He echoed her words, unsure whether to believe what he was hearing. He didn't need to see Bellatrix's face to tell what her response was. Ms-Know-It-All was so sure he wouldn't entertain the idea. He'd show her.
He looked at Narcissa, weeping yet again as he agreed. "Certainly, Narcissa, I shall make the Unbreakable Vow. Perhaps your sister will consent to be our Bonder?"
He saw Bellatrix's mouth fall open. Hah - that shut her up.
He wished that he had forced Wormtail to clean properly as he knelt on the floor. He hoped he wouldn't have rat-droppings all over his robes when he stood up again.
All too soon the Vow was taken. And still he didn't know what it was that Draco had been entrusted to do. He hoped he figured it out before the Vow worked his magic and he died for lack of keeping it.
He looked at Narcissa's relieved and grateful expression and Bellatrix's astonished one. He wondered how long it would take to get the pair of them out of his house now that Narcissa finally had what she came for.
An hour later, all the wine had gone, his programme on the wireless had long since finished and the former Black sisters had gone on their way. Wormtail returned back down the stairs and popped his head round the hidden door.
"Nice party?" he asked with a snicker.
I definitely need to stock up on mousetraps, Severus thought as he raised his wand and slammed the door shut for the final time that night.
Last edited by LouisaB; July 21st, 2005 at 8:38 pm.
I'm quite certain that something like this happened toward the end of the book.....
"Master," Bellatrix hissed. "Am I not still your most faithful servant?"
"Of course," answered Voldemort. "But faithfulness only goes so far. Rise, Severus Snape, my most COMPETENT servant."
"What would you ask of me, as your reward?"
"My greatest reward would be to serve you further, master," said Snape, bowing deeply. "But I do crave a small favor. Snape is a muggle name, and I no longer wish to be known by it. Henceforward, with your generous approval, I wish to be known as the Half Blood Prince."
"Granted!" Voldemort shouted in his high, shrill voice. "Let all listen and obey! The man once known as Severus Snape is now the Half Blood Prince!"
"The Half Blood Prince," murmured the Death Eaters.
"For your next task, Severus--"
"How silly of me," A humorless smile crossed the thin, lipless mouth of the Dark Lord. "Prince, your next--"
"The proper style of address is, I believe, 'Your Highness,'" said Snape softly.
Voldemort's smile vanished. "Do you dare to correct your master?"
"Well, technically," said Snape, "a prince outranks a mere Lord. I could assign you a task, if you like."
"Most amusing, Severus," said Voldemort, sounding not at all amused.
"Thank you...Tom," Snape answered.
Silence fell on the room like a headsman's axe. Voldemort turned slowly to stare at Snape. He pulled his wand out of his sleeve.
"Your success has made you foolish," he hissed. "You will pay for such insolence. CRUCI__"
"Then I won't do your task," said Snape quickly. "And you'll have to give it to one of these clowns." Voldemort stopped in mid-curse to look around at the motley crew of Death Eaters surrounding him. There was Greyback, Peter Pettigrew, Draco Malfoy, still sobbing over his failure, the recently released Stan Shunpike trying to burst one of the pimples on his chin, and a few others whose names he had never bothered to learn.
"Just kidding," Voldemot muttered grudgingly, and even more reluctantly added, "Your Highness."
"Right," said the Half Blood Prince. "Well, first I think we ought to make a team effort to get this place spruced up, and send Bellatrix out to go out to market. There's nothing in the bloody refrigerator but a bottle of snake's milk that's two years past the expiration date. Then, you, Voldemort--sorry, I mean My Lord--I have a task for you. A Prince needs a crown. I appoint you to find me a crown whose magnificence is in keeping with the grandeur of my new position. And I want it by Friday. Got that?"
"Yes, your Highness."
"Well, then--spring cleaning, everybody! We mustn't run a sloppy terrorist headquarters, must we?"
Voldemort scowled. But he picked up the mop.
The Witches of Castle Crabapple
HOGWARTS STAFF MEETING---THE ASP AT HOGWARTS---THE PRINCE OF HOGWARTS
I Trusted Severus Snape
The Dark Mark was still tingling as Severus Snape rushed into the Dark Lord's study and knelt before the desk of his master. He still felt waves of awe when admitted into the presence of Lord Voldemort.
"I am here and await my master's wishes," he said humbly. He dared to peek up at the mighty one briefly out of the corner of his eye.
Voldemort was peeling a banana. It seemed like an odd sort of thing for a Dark Lord to be doing.
"Snape," intoned Voldemort. "I have heard good reports about you from Lucius and Igor. They tell me you are cunning, ruthless, and skilled in the dark arts. That you are an expert at moving unseen and gathering information."
Snape dared another peek upward. Voldemort had finished peeling the banana and was looking at it with distaste. Snape wondered if he would eat it. It seemed such a lowly, human thing to do...
Voldemort seemed to notice his interest, and bristled. "What are you looking at?" he demanded. "Haven't you ever seen a Dark Lord eat a banana before?"
"No, my lord." Snape dropped his eyes to the carpet again, quickly. Actually, he hadn't had paying work since he had left school, and the banana looked very good.
"I have a small task for you," Voldemort continued. "I want you to go to the Hogs Head tavern in Hogsmeade. Be certain that you are not recognized there. A man in a red cloak and hood will enter. You must ask him, 'Have you misplaced a penguin?' to which he will reply, 'Uncle Jasper's gone off his nut.'"
Severus merely nodded, without adding his suspicion that Uncle Jasper had company.
"And then you must take him to the darkest corner of the tavern, get a package from him and bring it back to me."
Snape nodded. "What will be in it, Master?"
"Three dried venomous pricklepuffs," Voldemort answered. "I require them for a potion, to achieve a dark purpose which it is not necessary for you to be informed of. Examine them and see that they are genuine and of excellent quality, but remember that the Ministry has placed an embargo on pricklepuffs, so be cautious and do not let anyone see what you carry."
"Yes, Master," said Snape, humbling himself so deeply that his nose scraped the carpet. Pricklepuffs, he thought. The prime ingredient in every anti-baldness potion on the books.
Snape felt his awe of the Dark Lord slip a notch.
Severus Snape sat in the Hogs Head, fidgeting uncomfortably under the unfriendly gaze of the unclean old man at the counter. Snape had had to search the cushions of the sofa in Voldemort's parlor to find enough change to buy the small glass of beer before him, and he needed to make it last until the man in the red cloak appeared.The longer it took, the more the bartender glared.
Snape took another microscopic sip of beer. The glass was half empty.
The door of the pub opened, and Snape sat up, craning for a glimpse of the newcomer. The man did not wear a red cloak, however, and he was the last person Snape would expect to be selling contraband pricklepuffs, anyway.
It was Albus Dumbledore.
In spite of his old headmaster's unfair favoring of Gryffindor house, and in spite of his own allegiance to Lord Voldemort, Snape felt a mild, nostalgic fondness for the old fart. If he had not been in disguise in order to conduct illegal business, he might have waved. As it was, he simply pulled his hood lower over his face and resolved to tell his master of Dumbledore's appearance in the Hog's Head.
Dumbledore went to the bar, but rather than ordering, he began chatting up an old woman sitting on a stool there.
The old rogue...and at his age! Snape smirked to himself.
His jaw nearly hit the table when the woman stood, and, with Dumbledore following closely, went up the stairs to the private rooms.
It can't be! Snape thought to himself. He must be over a hundred! He waited, torn. The red-cloaked stranger failed to appear.
Making a sudden decision, Snape rose from his chair. It's not that I give a rat's rectum what the Headmaster gets up to away from school, he lied to himself. But my master would never forgive me if I didn't give him a full accounting of Dumbledore's...activities here.
Slipping quietly up the stairs when the bartender wasn't looking, Snape slunk along the passage, listening at doors.
"Hmmm, well, do you have anything more to show me?" It was Dumbledore's voice, and Snape pressed his ear close against the keyhole. Dumbledore sounded noncommittal, perhaps even disappointed.
Small wonder, thought Snape. Didn't he have a look at her downstairs? The thought suddenly struck him that Dumbledore, like Snape himself, might be here to purchase contraband goods.
"Let me try the crystal ball," said the old woman hastily."I see...I see....death....betrayal....I see you becoming the Minister of Magic...."
He came up here for a psychic reading? Snape thought with amazed contempt.
"Yes, well..thank you so much for the interview," Dumbledore was saying politely. "I am undecided as to whether we will offer Divination at Hogwarts this year, but I assure you that if we do decide--"
A new voice, a hoarse voice which sent chills down Severus Snape's neck, was speaking.
"THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD APPROACHES. ..BORN TO THOSE WHO HAVE THRICE DEFIED HIM, BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES..."
"What do you think you're doing?" a voice growled as a hand seized Snape's shoulder and pulled him away from the door. It was the bartender from downstairs. "Listening at doors? You peeping tom!"
"Let me go!" said Severus, furiously trying to break the barman's grip on him. He suddenly recognized the old man's face--wasn't he just in the papers recently? Some scandal about goats? With sudden horror, Snape imagined the prophet headlines...UNEMPLOYED POTION MAKER DISCOVERED IN TUSSLE WITH THE GOAT-MAN OF HOGSMEADE. He tried to tear himself loose as the bartender opened the door and hurled him in.
"Look what I found lurking outside your door!" the bartender said.
"Severus?" Dumbledore stood. The old woman sat behind a crystal ball, looking a bit dazed, but there was nobody there to account for the third voice. "Yes, Severus Snape."
"I protest!" Snape snarled, staggering to his feet and turning to look Dumbledore straight in the eye. "I came to the Hog's Head to contract some PRIVATE business, and I couldn't find my contact in the pub, so...so..."
"So you came up here to listen at doors and try to find him?"
"Yes," said Snape shortly, looking down as he straightened his robes. You didn't need Occlumency, if you only knew when to look away.
"Perhaps I can help you. Tell me," asked Dumbledore pleasantly. "What does this business contact of yours sound like?"
"Eh?" The question had caught Snape off guard. Dumbledore looked more amused than suspicious, though.
"Severus, you really must learn that listening at doors is an unhealthy habit," said Dumbledore."Hasn't that insatiable curiosity of yours already gotten you into enough trouble?" He turned to the old woman. "Miss Trelawny, as I was saying, I have decided that Hogwarts is badly in need of a divinations teacher. I hope you will accept the position."
"You're hiring?" said Snape over the enthusuastic acceptance speech of the daffy woman. "Er...any other positions open?"
"I'm so sorry, Severus. Not at the moment," said Dumbledore. "Good day, Severus."
"Oh..yes...right." Snape stumbled down the stairs in haste and outside, where he apparated at Voldemort's headquarters and rushed into his study, calling for the Dark Lord.
He related the tale of following Dumbledore--making it sound a good deal more daring--and the strange prophecy he had overheard.
Voldemort frowned. "Was that it?" he asked finally. "Was that all that was said?"
"I think there was more, but I was apprehended before I could hear it," said Snape, deciding to omit mentioning both the goat man and his appeal to Dumbledore for a job with salary attached.
"You have done well, Severus," said the Dark Lord. "I had my doubts about you...I've suspected for some time that Lucius Malfoy filled in at delivering the Avada Kedavra for you that time--but today you have proved your worth and usefulness."
"Thank you, my master!"
"Now," said Voldemort. "Where are my pricklepuffs?"
"Eh?" said Snape. "Oh...I..er...well...forgot them."
Voldemort sighed wearily as he drew his wand from his sleeve.
"CRUCIO!" he said. "It is SUCH a bother breaking in new help..."
The Witches of Castle Crabapple
HOGWARTS STAFF MEETING---THE ASP AT HOGWARTS---THE PRINCE OF HOGWARTS
I Trusted Severus Snape
Well, if anyone wants more of my embarrassingly sentimental theory poetry, I wrote Dumbledore's answer to Snape's lament, and put it on a sort of wallpaper.
Of course, it will make lousy wallpaper because your icons will cover the words, but all the same---
My god...I NEVER write serious poetry! I HATE serious poetry! That book certainly flipped me out.
The Witches of Castle Crabapple
HOGWARTS STAFF MEETING---THE ASP AT HOGWARTS---THE PRINCE OF HOGWARTS
I Trusted Severus Snape
Here is a shorter (breathe a sigh of relief) piece about when Snape ended up with Wormtail working for him. I envisage this took place shortly after the mass breakout of Azkaban but before the events at the end of Order of the Phoenix.
Severus Snape shuffled his feet as he waited with the crowd of Death Eaters who were awaiting the Dark Lord's attention.
Newly returned and with the ranks of Death Eaters dwindling Voldemort had given out the top jobs to whoever actually bothered to answer his call.
Now the only problem was that with the mass breakout from Azkaban the formerly incarcerated Death Eaters wanted their old jobs back.
"We are the most faithful," Bellatrix Lestrange whined from across the room. "We deserve to be treated as such. Isn't that right Algie."
Severus looked at Algernon Rookwood who sat beside her calmly picking his nose and clearly unconcerned as to whether he got his old job back at all.
"...we have rights..."
"...should be welcomed back into the fold..."
"...unlike others I could mention..."
Severus sat silently as most of the others in the dimly lit room continued to bemoan their lost jobs, lost youth, lost property.
I'd be more worried about the loss of sanity myself, Snape thought nastily as one former Death Eater started to crawl under the table looking for his invisible pet ferret he had apparently brought out of Azkaban with him.
"I already told you that you can't stay with us!" Lucius Malfoy declared in a loud voice that carried over the rest of the din. "You should have thought about accommodation before you decided to break out of prison."
"We can hardly go home," Bellatrix's husband Rodolphus sneered. "It's not like you've not got the room. And we're family."
Lucius snorted; Snape knew he had never really thought much of the Lestrange brothers. Big and beefy but not a great deal between the ears. Snape saw the similarity between the brothers and Draco Malfoy's cohorts, Crabbe and Goyle. He knew that Lucius wouldn't be backing down any time soon and the argument was more entertaining than ferret man who ... Snape took another look ... yes, he had something live there. Did he really have a ferret in Azkaban?
His question was answered a moment later when the 'ferret' turned out to be a rat, or rather Peter Pettigrew in his animagus form.
Snape laughed aloud as Peter returned to human form and started to berate the Death Eater for where precisely he'd been placing his hands. His rant only came to an end when the black door at the far end of the room swung open, an indication that the audience with the Dark Lord was about to begin.
Snape hoped it wouldn't take long, he had to be back at Hogwart's before long, those potions papers wouldn't mark themselves. Though he could of course skim Longbottom's and Potter's and just give them a D automatically. He might even go so far as a T if he was forced to miss dinner this evening.
Snape shifted impatiently in his seat as the audience dragged on.
Lucius dug his heels in on every little point, eager to sustain his high ranking position in face of the stiff opposition. Snape considered marking down Draco's paper in retaliation too.
Finally the Dark Lord reached Severus's own petition.
"Severus," Voldemort said as he sat at the large oak desk. "Step forward."
Severus stood up and walked to the opposite side of the desk and looked down at the parchments scattered across it.
"One moment," Voldemort said as he scrawled something on the parchment directly in front of him.
Severus looked closely at the writing and felt his temper rise as he read the words before him.
One vial of anti-venom
Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans
Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Household Pests
Great, Snape fumed, let's hold on a little longer while he makes out his shopping list.
"You were wanting more help," Voldemort finally said without looking up from his list.
"Yes, master," Snape began. "I've been-"
"You know our ranks are depleted," Voldemort interrupted.
"Yes, master," Snape replied with a nod. "It would just be for term time. My house at Spinner's End-"
"There are not enough amongst us to spare you a housekeeper."
Severus nodded again. It had been worth a try, especially with so many of the Death Eaters unable to return to their former residences.
He returned to his seat, knowing he could not leave the room until the audience was finally concluded, or else risk breaking the imperturbable charm on the room.
Severus watched with mild enjoyment as the Lestranges were granted the property of one of their fallen brethren who had left no children. There were a couple of muggles living there now but he knew they wouldn't be there for long.
"Huh?" Severus stopped smirking at ferret man's latest antics and drew his attention back to Voldemort who was beckoning him forward again.
He rose immediately and returned to the desk where he towered over the form of Peter Pettigrew whose petition to the Dark Lord he had missed completely. He really should have been paying more attention to what was happening.
"What do you think Severus?" Voldemort asked with what passed for a smile on his serpentine features. "Our little rodent wishes to be more useful, more active and have his talents more appreciated."
"A noble aspiration," Severus replied with a sneer at Peter. He wondered how squealing like a girl could ever be useful to the Death Eaters but refrained from asking it aloud.
"I think we can solve three problems with one fell swoop," Voldemort said with another smile, this one even more terror-inducing than the last.
Oh no, Severus prayed as he closed his eyes. Not that. Please not that.
"Wormtail wishes to be more useful, and you need someone to assist you."
Severus felt his face flush at the thought of one of Potter's gang seeing where he lived, and even worse being forced to live under the same roof as him for so much as a single day. Having the little rat snooping through his things...no!
"I've had time to re-consider," Severus said. "You're quite right, our numbers are too few. I would not wish to take our furry ally away from more important duties."
"Think nothing of it," Voldemort replied with a wave of his hand that caused ink to fly across the desk. Snape felt a spot hit his nose and saw Peter snicker beside him; he glared back.
"You're efforts these last months should not go unrewarded," Voldemort continued, nodding as he spoke. "It is therefore my decision that Wormtail here should assist you."
"Thank you, master," Severus replied, bowing low, seething the entire time. His only consolation was that Wormtail looked equally disappointed in the turn of events.
Severus backed away from the desk, but not before noticing Voldemort pulling his shopping list towards him and crossing out the final item on the list. It looked like the Dark Lord wouldn't be needing the advice of Lockhart for how to get rid of household pests after all.
Last edited by LouisaB; December 28th, 2005 at 11:51 am.
Since there's one taker, here goes. This will begin at the end of book five where Hogwart's has just closed for the summer holidays.
"Snape and Wormtail - The Spinners End Years - A Tale of Domestic Disaster."
Severus Snape stepped off the Hogwart's Train at King's Cross Station. It was the first time he had travelled back with the students but he just couldn't face going home just yet. Apparating had its uses but not when you wanted to avoid something...or someone. Any excuse to put off the inevitable was more than welcome.
He saw Draco Malfoy re-united with his weeping mother and felt relieved to see the back of the boy. He was acting like it was his fault that Lucius had been careless enough to get himself caught and thrown into Azkaban and he wanted Snape to up his OWL grades due to extenuating circumstances. Who did Draco think he was? Dumbledore? The journey on the train with the whining brat had only been made bearable by the knowledge that it was preferable to going home.
Two hours, one train, a muggle bus journey and a long rather unnecessary walk later and Severus Snape stood outside his house at Spinners End. There was no putting it off any longer. He had to face the James Potter Wannabe....that or kick the muggle tramp off the park bench and sleep there tonight.
A curtain twitched next door a moment before the door opened and his nosy neighbour Miss Pickles poked her head outside to call her cat.
"Good evening," Severus called with a nod of hello.
The woman looked startled a moment and her head shot round to face him. He tried not to let her surprise irritate him. In all the years they had been neighbours he had never bothered to greet her before.
"What have you done to my cat?" the woman snarled as she looked suspiciously at him.
Severus looked startled that she thought he'd done anything to her flea-bitten animal. What would he want with her mangy moggie?
"I'm sure he'll turn up sooner or later," Severus replied consolingly.
"It's a she," Miss Pickles replied with another snarl before slamming the window shut.
"Home, sweet home," Severus muttered as he opened the door.
The first thing he noticed was the dust, which set off his allergies the moment he stepped through the door.
The second thing he noticed was the noise of some horrendously bad music, if it could even be called that, coming from the living room. At least Wormtail had had the sense to put a charm on the house so it didn't disturb the rest of the street.
He closed his eyes a second, took a deep breath for patience, sneezed again, and deciding to forget patience, stalked into the room.
Wormtail, sometimes known as Peter Pettigrew, had certainly been making himself at home since he had been assigned to assist Severus by Lord Voldemort.
He was currently assisting himself to the nettle wine, Snape noted as he glared at the little rat.
Lounging on the sofa, a bottle of nettle wine beside him and his feet encased in Severus's The Boy Who Lived carpet slippers (an unwanted gift from Dumbledore) currently propped up on the coffee table.
"Making yourself at home I see," Severus sneered from the doorway as he turned off the wizard wireless and the racket emanating from it.
"Ah Shev," Peter slurred from the sofa. "We're almosh out a wine."
Severus stood stock still, his face blanched even whiter than usual.
Six weeks of holidays, six weeks to whip the little rat into shape. Severus looked about the room and saw that it was in the same state of neglect and disrepair as the last time he had seen it. He was hard pushed to decide if six weeks was way too short a time for the task in hand or far too long for his sanity.
....To be Continued....
Last edited by LouisaB; December 28th, 2005 at 11:56 am.
Severus Snape was busy making some strong coffee for himself. It had been a long week. He, and the young Malfoy boy hand been running for what seemed like eternity. Then they had finally gotten past the gates, and had been able to apparate out of Hogwarts grounds. That day had been a nightmare for him. He had done the thing he had most been fearing to do.
He, Severus Snape, had killed the great Albus Dumbledore.
Of course he didn’t want to. But Dumbledore had said that he must. Insisted that it was the right thing. In order to save the students...save Draco...save Snape. He had argued, of course. But time was running out. He had to convince the Deatheaters so he could get on with his plan. So he had done it.
Then Potter had to be dealt with. And the great Potter had called him a coward. That had enraged him. And he had a right to be enraged! He had to kill Dumbledore. He had to do what he had been dreading. The inevitable had occured. Potter wouldn’t know. Potter wouldn’t know that he hated himself for doing it. Potter and the Order would never know that...
Snape mixed the sugar into his coffee and stared into its swirling depths. At that moment, Draco burst into the kitchen, and opened his mouth to say something, when Bellatrix Lestrange walked in, followed by Narcissa Malfoy.
“To what do I owe this pleasure, ladies?” Snape asked, a mocking smile upon his face. He gestured for them to sit down.
“Well, well, well, Severus,” said Bellatrix, her lips curving into a sneer. “Looks like everything went as planned. The muggle-loving fool is rid of. Good.”
“Yes, it was quite easy to do. Now...how may I be of assistance to you?”
“We have a – ”
Bellatrix began, but was cut off as Narcissa spoke.
“I want Draco out Severus! I want that wretched mark off his arm!”
“Mother!” said Draco, surprised.
“I am sorry Narcissa, but Draco here, cannot get the mark off. He is bound by blood and will, as we all are.
“He is too young Severus! A sixteen year-old boy should not be succumbed to the will of the Dark Lord!” she cried hysterically.
“Mother, my age means nothing! I wish to give my service to the Dark– ”
“No! Draco, this is not your choice! It may be of your concern, but I will decide whether you are to give your services to the Dark Lord!”
“No, dear Cissy. I am afraid it is I who will decide that,” came a new voice. A cold voice, that was never welcome, and always feared.
“My Lord!” Bellatrix cried, and fell to her feet, as did the others. “Forgive my sister, she knows not which she speaks of!”
Voldemort ignored Bellatrix, and instead focused his gaze on Narcissa.
“So...you do not wish your son to be part of the Dark Lord’s followers? Not be a part of the greatest group dedicated to me and the Dark Arts?”
Narcissa was silent. Voldemort continued.
“Well, whether you wish it or not, you son will be a part of this great movement.”
“I am sorry My Lord, forgive me,” Narcissa murmured quietly.
Its lucky its dark, I haven't blushed so much since Madame Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs.
Nitwit, oddment, blubber, tweak!
To the well organized mind, death is but the next greates adventure.
He blinked awake to an aching back, a throbbing hangover and a pain-inducing racket of shouts and banging from upstairs. Wormtail. So he wanted to be let out did he ... Without thinking, Severus found himself automatically moving his wand to cast the release charm. "FINALLY!!" Wormtail shouted (the sound of which tore through Severus's forebrain like a train accident), then he proceeded to gallop down the staircase to the bathroom (each thump of his feet like a sledgehammer to his skull ... oh Merlin shouldnt that vermin at least have the decency to have a hangover too?), and slammed the door (remind myself to hex his breakfast, he thought after wincing).
He rubbed his temples with his fingers, trying to remember a dream (Pettigrew's bathroom cacophony wasnt helping him) ... it was something to do with him being a boy again - usually the type of dream that he hated - but for some reason it didnt feel so bad this time. What was it he was doing? Sitting in a chair, being comforted by someone? ..that must be right ... who was it? An old wizard with a long beard, from what he could remember.
Wormtail made a long, loud & satisfied "Ahhhh, that's better!", followed by flushing. Severus reminded himself that it would be a very good idea to hex his dinner as well. What was the dream again? ... that's right, he was a small boy sitting on a chair, talking to an old man with a long silver beard who was giving him wise words and comfort. That's right, the old man was wearing bright colored robes. He seemed familiar - for the love of Merlin! Severus realised that he should know that man - why was his brain so foggy that he couldnt?
Silence from the bathroom, Wormtail had not emerged. Severus's hangover-enhanced hearing detected the clinks & rattles of shaving. Pettigrew would be relatively quiet for a minute or two, then - oh thank goodness for small mercies like that. Now, there was more to the dream - but why couldnt he recognise the old man? He was sure that he knew him ...
Severus began to raise his hand to rub his temples, ease the throbbing and help him to think. He realised that he was still holding his wand, must have fallen asleep with it in his hand. He moved to put it in his pocket ... and felt something else in his hand, next to the wand. Felt like a quill, only less soft - had someone slipped something into his hand while he slept? Who?
He picked up the quill-like object to inspect it, and recognised it immediately. A phoenix feather, newly shed. Severus's breath stopped in his throat ... he realised who he had been dreaming about. It was Albus. The feather ... he was sure it was from Fawkes. But how?
The realisation came to him, one that seemed overwhelmingly to make sense. It was Albus who had just visited him in his dream, and who had just left a calling card that he knew Severus would not dismiss. It was just the elder wizard's way of letting him know. Whispering a few words of gratitude to his old mentor, he quietly made his way back to his own room. No, it wouldnt be good if he ever let Pettigrew see something like this. Not that he was happy anyway to let the rat put his scabby paw on a memento as precious as that ...
Last edited by thestralgrin; July 24th, 2005 at 5:50 am.
Well, let's go back in time a few years.
Severus Snape swept regally into the class, the first-year students eyeing him with awe and terror.
"As there is little foolish wand-waving here," he said, "many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses ... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even--"
There was a blinding flash of light. His pupils contracted by the sudden glare, Snape could see nothing in the gloom of the dungeon for a moment. And just as his eyes began to readjust to the dimness, there was another flash.
"What in the--"
"Just taking a few pictures to send home to my father!" piped up a reedy voice. "He'll be so excited! I'm doing ALL my teachers!" Snape could now make out a small boy in the Gryffindor area holding, of all things, a muggle camera.
Snape wondered how he got the flash to work.
Snape moved swiftly toward the boy, his most quelling sneer on his face. The boy froze for an instant in terror. Then he raised the camera and another flash went off, practically in Snape's face.
"That was a great expression!" he piped up. "But I think you moved, sir, can you do it again?"
With a snarl of pure rage, Snape lunged at the boy. The camera went off, and the Gryffindor ducked under his desk, just missed by Snape's clutching hands. Scurrying out between Snape's legs, the boy made a break for the classroom door, Snape hot on his heels.
The boy stopped at the door to snap another photograph. Blinded, Snape stumbled, then tripped badly over what felt like a leg. Staggering to the door, he screamed after the escaping Gryffindor, "FIFTY POINTS FROM GRYFFINDOR! AND ANOTHER TEN FOR RUNNING IN THE HALLS!"
Limping back toward the front of the classroom, Snape glowered at his students, most of them cringing in their seats, except for a red-haired girl sitting right about where Snape calculated he had tripped. Snape fixed his eyes on her, his lip curling to reveal his yellow teeth. She looked back at him with an expression of wide-eyed innocence.
A Weasley. Didn't that just figure.
The Witches of Castle Crabapple
HOGWARTS STAFF MEETING---THE ASP AT HOGWARTS---THE PRINCE OF HOGWARTS
I Trusted Severus Snape
Last edited by Inkwolf; July 25th, 2005 at 2:48 am.
Just another little one I have to get out of my system before I tear myself away from obsessing about the big questions....
Breakfast With Lord Voldemort
The Death Eater party had lasted long into the night, and Snape's head hurt. He resolved not to think about the previous day's attack on Hogwarts.
Amycus was passed out on the stairs and Snape had to crawl over Greyback as he made his way to Peter Pettigrew's bedroom. He found Peter asleep, still duct-taped to the wall--Bellatrix's idea of a good prank. Snape pulled out his wand and slashed at the tape, letting Peter drop to the ground with a thud.
"Get up," he snarled to the groaning Wormtail. "Make breakfast. You know our master likes to rise early." He strode down the stairs, listening to Wormtail grumbling after him and teraring off tape. Soon the eggs and bacon were sizzling on the stove, and just in time. Snape could hear Lord Voldemort's shower running.
Not having joined the wild party last night, Lord Voldemort looked rested and refreshed, apart from the odd angle he was hunched over at.
"Is that really the bed you sleep on, Severus?" Voldemort groused. "My back is a mess." He stood up straight, and there was a series of audible clicks and snaps from his spine. "Where are the rest of my loyal servants?"
"Sleeping it off," said Snape shortly. "They did quite a lot of celebrating last night. Shall I wake them?" A few good kicks should do it.
"No, no," said Voldemort. "I shall have tasks for them soon enough." The Dark Lord took some bacon and filled a bowl with porridge. "Someone vomited in your bathroom," he commented.
"Bella," said Snape wearily. "Go clean it up, Wormtail."
"Me!?" The little man had been about to sit down to a heaping plate of eggs.
"Yes, you. Now." Wormtail snarled as he left. Snape looked at the food, felt his stomach lurch, and poured himself a glass of tomato juice.
"Severus," said Voldemort, through a mouthful of toast. "Look at me." Snape turned to stare into the eerie red eyes of the Dark Lord.
Old, familiar images began to flicker through his head. Potter, falling off his broom. Potter, being put on detention. Potter, miserably failing at producing a vanishing potion. By the time Potter's arm bones had all been removed, Voldemort was chuckling. When Snape was reciting Potter's Rita Skeeter article out loud to the class, Voldemort burst out laughing.
Snape irritably wiped spatters of porridge from his face. He wished Voldemort wouldn't read at the table. It was rude.
The Witches of Castle Crabapple
HOGWARTS STAFF MEETING---THE ASP AT HOGWARTS---THE PRINCE OF HOGWARTS
I Trusted Severus Snape
Last edited by Inkwolf; July 25th, 2005 at 11:47 am.
Oh, Inkwolf... thank you so much for starting up this thread There are some really, really great pieces in here. And they all remind me that I'm not alone in still trusting Severus Snape!
Anyway, I'm grabbing hold of a story thread and running away with it … the moment Snape is charged with hiding Wormtail. Apologies if it makes no sense – I wrote this late last night while I couldn’t sleep Set just after GoF, using things we found out in HBP. I'm not sure whether it's meant to be funny or serious, I've kind of opted for both but got neither. *shrugs*
* * *
The Late Return
Severus got to his feet, sensing it was probably now safe to do so. The Dark Lord had stopped hexing him, at least. That was one good thing about Dumbledore, Severus mused as he tried to rub some life back into his arm. He didn’t throw Unforgivable Curses at a person just because he’d had a bad day.
Severus tried his best to maintain eye contact with the Dark Lord, settling into his old trick of shutting down those memories he wished to hide and pushing those that saw him in a more favourable light to the forefront. Funny how old ways could come back to someone even after all this time. Of course, the Dark Lord was a highly skilled Legilimens and could easily break through his defences if he wanted to. Severus felt fairly certain that he wouldn’t, though. Rebirth took a lot out of a man, or whatever it was that the Dark Lord could be classified as these days.
‘Very well, Severus,’ said Voldemort, in a high, cold voice that sounded almost reptilian to Severus’ ears.
‘My lord,’ replied Severus, inclining his head in a short bow (that was something else he could say in Dumbledore’s favour; there was none of this bowing and scraping, yes m’lord, no m’lord, three bags full m’lord business) and surreptitiously shifting his weight from one foot to another in an attempt to ease the pain. He was sure there was blood on his face too, but he d@mn well wasn’t going to wipe it away with the Dark Lord watching.
‘There is something I wish you to do for me,’ continued Voldemort. The tone of his voice was strange: it was hard to make out any sort of emotion.
‘Anything, my lord,’ said Severus, eyeing the huge cauldron left abandoned in the graveyard as he did so. If it involved scrubbing that, he was going back to Hogwarts straight away. The Dark Lord raised his wand, and Severus flinched, expecting another round of pain at the hands of a curse. It never came, and instead Severus heard the sound of a great headstone splitting in two behind him. He turned, even though it was never wise to turn one’s back on the Dark Lord, to see Peter Pettigrew scurrying out from behind it, where he had clearly been hiding, rubbing his head where the stone had hit him with a hand wrapped in some sort of silver glove. Severus felt a twinge of surprise, tempered with a stab of annoyance at seeing him alive. It looked like Potter had been telling the truth.
‘Well well, Pettigrew,’ said Severus, deciding to hide any emotion with what he hoped sounded something like scathing wit. ‘You’re looking well for a man fourteen years dead.’ Pettigrew simply scowled at him in reply. Severus smirked. ‘Although I see it has done nothing for your social skills. Pity. Tell me, what are the sewers like this time of year?’ Pettigrew’s glower became even more pronounced, and Severus noticed the various wounds and ugly bruises on his face and arms. He’d obviously not had a fun-filled evening either.
‘Severus, I believe you still own a house in Spinner’s End?’ hissed Voldemort from somewhere behind Severus’ shoulder. He suppressed a shudder and wished dearly that he had bothered to find a new address at some point over the last fourteen years.
‘Yes, my lord,’ he answered unwillingly.
‘You are to take Wormtail, conceal him at Spinner’s End, and await further orders.’ Severus and Pettigrew stared at eachother in complete disbelief. The wretched little man’s mouth was opening and closing in indignation.
‘B-but … my lord…’ stammered Pettigrew, finding his voice at last. ‘Y-you promised that … that I would be …r-rewarded above all others…’
‘I am allowing you to live, and affording you a safe hiding place,’ snapped the Dark Lord. ‘What further reward could you possibly hope for? And to assume that you deserve a reward, after the way things have gone tonight…’
‘Y-yes, my lord. Thank you,’ Pettigrew stuttered, rubbing his right arm, which, Severus could now see, was not cased in a glove at all – it was a false, silver arm attached just below his elbow.
‘Well, Severus?’ enquired Voldemort, sounding amused. Severus stared scornfully at Pettigrew, trying to imagine anyone he would rather share his house with. And then, Severus thought of the state his house was in. The floors in need of a sweep. The fires that needed lighting. The books that needed dusting. The robes that had to be cleaned, and hung out to dry, and pressed. A small smile spreading across his face, Severus remembered the way that Pettigrew and his little friends had made life miserable at Hogwarts, and realised what wonderful, sweet revenge this arrangement could be.
‘As you wish, my lord,’ said Severus, turning to face the Dark Lord and bowing deeply. He heard the gasp of shock from Pettigrew and smirked.
‘Good. Wormtail will go to Spinner’s End, but you, Severus, are to return to Hogwarts for now. Let Dumbledore continue to believe that you are faithful to him, until this ceases to be ... useful. Go now.’
‘Yes, my lord.’
Unknown to Snape, after he left and returned to Hogwarts, Lord Voldemort held Wormtail back a moment before he too Disapparated.
‘Watch him,’ he hissed, his long fingers gripping Wormtail’s arm so tightly that the skin around them turned white. ‘Watch his every move.’
The New Bestseller - Available Now at Flourish and Blotts!
(for fan mail, feedback, hair-care tips and marriage proposals, please click here)
One of the COS Authorteers - Barbara Kennedy, emikkime, Guardian Angel, Miri, thethirdman, leenielou, Kate Johnson, Prosperine, Lady DeMimsy and Amina, along with Potter_fan, Jessie and Captain Pookers.
This is a bit about the broom hexing incident and how Snape managed to keep his cover. Hope you like it.
Snape flung the doors and entered Dumbledore's office, part of his robes had been burned and he looked slightly alarmed.
The portraits of previous Headmasters murmured expectantly.
Calmly, the Headmaster raised his head from his work and examined the Potions teacher.
'Severus. What happened?' He asked as if inquiring about Snape's latest vacations.
'It's Quirrel.' Snape said. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. 'He was hexing Potter's broom and I had to intervene.' He added spitefully.' The kid has no doubt, but I have just saved his life.'
Dumbledore stared silently with the same calm, unreadable look about him.
'How could the Dark Lord be so stupid?' Snape uttered, obviously upset. My cover his blown, I'll be under his suspicion for saving Potter, this changes everything...'
'No. It changes nothing, Severus.' said Dumbledore. 'And I don't think this was Voldemort's doing. Apparently young Professor Quirrel is not entirely under his control.' The Headmaster was thoughtful, his eyes on Snape's.
'You think Quirrel did it?' said Snape, smoother.
'Yes. As you pointed out, it is uncharacteristic of Voldemort to act so recklessly. As for your cover, you needn't worry. If you act exactly like I tell you to, Voldemort will never suspect you.'
'What shall I do?'
Dumbledored adopted a bemused smile.
An excited Flitwick and a pale and nervous Quirrel were talking about the Quidditch match when Snape stormed into the staff room, fuming.
Quirrel spoke, 'Any-t-t-thing wrong, P-P-Professor?
'One of my students, Quirinus, is responsible for the little incident we have been forced to deal with today.'
Snape turned from Quirrel and, with a flick of his wand, poured himself some tea.
'Severus, this is a serious accusation. Can you really be sure?' said Flitwick.
'I can assure you it is none of Ravenclaw's, Filius.' said Snape, lookingdown on him hard-faced. 'They are too prompt to see Slytherin lose to attempt to sabotage Gryffindor's chances.'
Quirrel watched the scene attentively. Flitwick let out a shy giggle.
'Well, I admit we are a bit tired of your winning streak' He winked. 'Well, anyway, I was just saying, broom hexing is a very difficult thing, Severus. I doubt a student would be able to do it.'
'Well, obviously not a first-year. I personnally think a well-documented fifth-year would have no trouble. I suspect some of Marcus Flint's gang.'
Snape was was truly angry.
'They have some nerve; putting my robes on fire. I'll have to have a little chat with them. I have to make clear I expect better condunct from Slytherins.'
'It's all about Quidditch with these five' replied Flitwick. 'And poor Marcus, I don't know what I can do with him; he skips classes, his work is sloppy. If he doesn't try harder I'm affraid he'll fail his OWL in Charms.'
Snape profited from the change of topic.
'His notes are abysmal in my classes as well. I think he could be in a position to fail all his OWLs...'
Theories, analysis, essays on the Harry Potter series.
My article on R.A.B.
Great jobs all, Inkwolf, LouisaB, subtle science, true_heir_of_slyth, and eatmybludgers! I swear, this thread is becoming at least as good as the earlier incarnation.
Here's a POV of mine... a try on the funny side this time. I hope it's up to par. (Thanks to LouisaB for a certain idea, you'll know what it is. )
Snape's Point of View: HBP, prior to ch.8, before the start of term feast
I return to my house at Spinner's End with a full basket and secure the door with the usual charms. Ahh... the last time to have a decent lunch, before I Apparate to the Hogwarts grounds this evening. I turn around and see that the sitting-room still doesn't look any better than it did before I left... is the rat man still asleep or what?
As I make my way into the kitchen I notice that it doesn't look any better either - and indeed, only now do I hear a groan and the clap of a door from above. Apparently Wormtail still hasn't moved a finger, in spite of my warning to clean up the place until I'm back from the market. A house-elf like those at Hogwarts would definitely be more useful. They may not be as adept at cooking as I'd like them to be - best to do such things yourself, is my opinion -, but they sure do the cleaning and laundry better than Wormtail does. Plus they don't keep nicking food out of your fridge.
A routine "Aguamenti" fills the cauldron with water, and the nice little fire below soon gets it to the boiling point. I measure a quantity of rice to pour into it and lower the flames, then pour a spoonful of oil into the frying pan and kindle another small fire under it. Meanwhile a sudden yowl from the first floor tells me that Wormtail has found the mousetrap in the toilet.
With a smirk I take the chicken and vegetables out of the basket and spread them out on the table. "Levicorpus!" levitates the chicken above the frying pan, and at "Sectumsempra!" it slices itself into neat little pieces, dropping into the pan one by one. I add a generous jigger of dark sauce, watch the meat fry until it's time to have it flick around, and proceed to slice the carrots and broccoli as well. Nothing more handy for a passionate cook than a few choice kitchen spells.
From the sound of it Wormtail is now scurrying down the stairs... time to cast a quick Disillusionment charm at the simmering pots. Just in time. The kitchen door bangs open, and the familiar little figure appears in the doorway - clothes in disarray (he must have slept in indeed) and the mousy face wet and looking thoroughly annoyed. I raise an eyebrow at him. "I'd be grateful for you to stop slamming doors, Wormtail, you know that it's bad for the hinges. Next thing you know, they might slam back at you."
He ignores the advice and shakes his silver hand at me, a finger caught in a mousetrap. (Pity, I had hoped for something better.) "What the h*ll are you aiming at, Snape", he screams, "placing mousetraps all over the guests' bathroom?!" So he has found those in the towel and in the toilet paper cupboard too. Too bad, I had hoped for a later discovery... but I'll have to place some new ones in the house anyway before I leave.
Sneering I look straight into his eyes, and as expected he averts them at once - still angry, but more subdued. Good, he needs to know his place. "I'm so sorry, Wormtail", I say lazily, "but this house does seem to be infested with rats... I found a gnawed piece of cheese on the rug of your bathroom. I thought you'd appreciate me to deal with it, since you don't seem to be able to do so yourself." He grits his teeth at that, a most gratifying sight... well, I have warned him, haven't I? "On a side note, the state of the sitting room looks like an invitation to rats too. You ought to take care of that before I do."
He looks as if he wanted to complain, but is wise enough to hold his tongue. Instead he sniffs the air, and a note of pleading creeps into his voice as he peers at me sideways. "Is that a chicken dish you're cooking? Smells good, Snape, really delicious... may I have some of it? Pretty pretty please?"
As if I were to waste my lunch on vermin, I think with distaste. "Obviously your nose is confunded, Wormtail", I say blandly. "To my utmost regret, all they had at the market was this." I push a big lump of Swiss cheese into his hands - more holes than cheese, to be exact, and the smelliest on stock.
He looks a bit offended, but reluctantly takes it, and I push down any hint of pity for the traitorous ex Secret Keeper as I shove him out of the door. "You ought to take care of the cleaning at last, then I might still find you some bread for a sandwich", I call after him as I take my un-Disillusioned pots off the fire. And, as an afterthought: "Maybe I should get a kneazle or a muggle pest-controller about those rats, what do you think?" An audible grumble is his only answer. With a smirk I tuck in.
I'll say that for the Dark Lord, and his half-distrust in me... his spy spying the spy since his rebirth has proven to be more fun than I thought. And a nice payback for his betrayal of the Potters to boot.
We are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided.
Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open.
(Dumbledore in 'Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire')
Last edited by Serpentine; July 27th, 2005 at 7:45 pm.
Great POVs everyone! I can't think of much else I'd rather spend an afternoon reading.
All right, here's one I wrote a while ago.... I just read true_heir_of_slyth's (very very good ) and mine also gives a reason for Wormtail shacking up with Snape, but that's about all they've got in common...
“Severus, get in here!”
Snape grimaced and then heaved himself from the Dark Lord’s comfortable over-stuffed chair in the shabby chic-inspired living area and followed the irritated voice into the kitchen, where a fire was happily burning in a brick fireplace.
Voldemort was stationed in front of the fire, peering into a seething cauldron and tapping his wand in the palm of his other hand. “It’s missing something,” he muttered to himself. “Rosemary? Garlic?... I need just the right flavor if I hope to stand a chance against Nott’s vegetarian lasagna…”
“Um… You wanted to see me, my Lord?” Snape said, eyeing Voldemort’s back warily. The last time Voldemort had been bent on winning a cook-off, he had put each of the Death Eaters under the Cruciatus Curse to ease his frustration. Snape had been taking his turn as victim when Voldemort had forgotten to follow a crucial part of the recipe and the cauldron had boiled over, flooding the clean stone floor with cheese sauce. Snape would never forget the punishment he had undergone after the mess had been magicked away, even though it hadn’t been his fault. If he’d told the Dark Lord once, he’d told him a hundred times: Mistakes can be avoided only if the fun of torture is not allowed to become such a distraction that the chef loses sight of the real task at hand.
“Ah, Severus…” Voldemort turned to look at Snape, and then motioned him to come closer. Snape obeyed, feeling increasingly uneasy. Maybe the Dark Lord was going to stuff his head into the bubbling cauldron… He’d threatened to do it to Crabbe the day before…
Voldemort seemed to have momentarily forgotten his dilemma with the contents of the cauldron, however. Snape was about to remind him of the dangers a lapse in concentration posed, but the Dark Lord’s next words shook the warning from Snape’s tongue.
“Severus, I want you to take Wormtail home with you tonight,” Voldemort said, and he gestured to a lump sitting by a wine rack in one corner of the kitchen. “He’s causing me nothing but grief.”
As Snape surveyed the lump with distaste, it gave a jolt, and two watery eyes met his. Then the lump squeaked, and Snape heard words issue from somewhere in the jumble of robes.
“But, my Lord, please…” said a squeaky voice. “I mean only to help you, I’ll do what I can to ensure your victory, I’ll sabotage Nott’s lasagna…”
At the mention of sabotage, Voldemort’s eyes gleamed and he seemed to think for a moment. But then he said coldly, “You wouldn’t know the first thing about sabotage, Wormtail. No, you can ensure my victory by leaving. I have come to believe that it is your unsanitary nature and constant presence in my kitchen that is wreaking havoc on my culinary abilities. Your stupidity is also blocking my creative waves.”
“But my Lord,” said Snape, trying to think quickly. He didn’t want that miserable git in his house. What if he came across Snape’s private diaries, disguised to look like potion books on his shelves? Or his collection of British Homes and Gardens, hidden beneath a sofa cushion? If Wormtail found those, he’d tell the Dark Lord, and Snape would never see them again.
“My Lord,” Snape repeated, becoming slightly desperate. “I don’t have enough room, or he would of course be…welcome.”
“I thought you had a secret room in that hovel you call a house,” said Voldemort, and he cringed, as though the memory of Snape’s rickety furniture and dusty bookshelves caused him immense pain. “You could just stick him in there, couldn’t you?”
“I—” began Snape, thinking of the numerous fancy dress robes he’d have to remove from the secret room if the Dark Lord had his way. The full-length mirror would have to go too…
“Listen, this is not up for debate,” said Voldemort, and Snape could tell that he was becoming agitated. “Severus, you take Wormtail. Make him clean your floors, kick him around, have him sleep on straw, test new spells on him, I don’t care! Just get him out of my kitchen!”
Snape breathed a huge sigh and then strode over to the lump, which was now shivering and making squeaky noises at irregular intervals. He seized the hood of a robe and hoisted Wormtail to his feet.
“Fine then,” Snape said, his black eyes ablaze. “Give me ten minutes to…ah…fix up your temporary living quarters. Then you will cook my supper and wash my laundry.”
Behind him, Snape heard the Dark Lord laugh. “Exactly, Severus. Treat him as a doormat. He’s not useful for anything else.”
Snape thought he caught a flicker of resentment in Wormtail’s eyes, but he quickly released him, and Wormtail crumpled to the floor once more.
“Thank you, my Lord,” Snape said through clenched teeth, and then he made for the door. He had just crossed the room when he heard a scream of outrage. Unwillingly, he looked over his shoulder.
A thick black substance was oozing over the edges of the cauldron and seeping into the cracks between the stones on the floor. Voldemort was dancing uncertainly around the growing puddle, screaming curses and threats.
Snape made it out of the kitchen not a moment too soon. He heard, “Evanesco!”, followed closely by squeaky whimperings, and then a “Crucio!”
Given Wormtail’s past recovery times and the Dark Lord’s love of the Unforgivable Curses, Snape figured he could count on at least another ten minutes to get his “hovel” ready…
Severus Snape blinked hard, trying to will his eyes to stay open as Dumbledore spoke.
"I have called the Order together to discuss contingency plans, should the Death Eaters ever gain access to Hogwarts."
Bloody plans...bloody meetings. Snape had begged Dumbledore to let him skip this one. He had all he could handle teaching Defense against the Dark Arts--twice the classroom time, since he didn't get to double up classes--and dancing attendance on the Dark Lord. He barely got two hours of sleep a night, after correcting papers.
"No, I won't come to another bloody meeting!" he had actually screamed. "I won't! I can't handle this workload, and still come running to play Boy Scout to your General Patton three nights a week! You're taking too much for granted, and I don't want to do it any more."
But Dumbledore had just shoved that bloody Teacher's contract at him and pointed out the clause about being 'required to attend meetings outside of work hours at the discretion of the Headmaster.' Why had he ever signed the thing?
He could feel his head beginning to nod as Dumbledore droned on.
"In case of a Death Eater attack, mumf glorp mweeble trrrr...."
Snape looked around in surprise. He was no longer in the Order of the Phoenix's meeting room. Instead, he was surrounded by black cloud, and sitting at a small table. On the other side of the table sat a short, fat Muggle woman, wearing glasses that slipped down her nose, and tapping keys on some sort of glowing box before her.
"Hello!" said the muggle. Eerie blue light shone on her face and reflected from the smudgy glasses, and she had an American accent, Snape noted, as if the scene wasn't surreal enough. "I have a theory I want to bounce off you."
"Theory?" he said vaguely. Somewhere far away, a voice was droning.
"Yeah," said the muggle. "See, you know how JKR always makes, um, behavior parallels between you and Harry?"
"JKR?" said Snape, baffled. "Harry? You mean Potter?"
"Right. You know, like him going through the same reactions when Lupin was crying as you did with Narcissa, and the hate-and-R thing with Dumbledore, and the whole Shrieking Shack scene? Well, I made this joke that you were like Harry's anti-matter version, and then I said, 'Well, let's run with it.' So, my theory is that you are the anti-Harry..."
The blackness was fading into light again, and Snapes eyes opened a sliver to see Dumbledore still talking at the front of the room. Ah, a dream, Snape thought.
"O wooby stunned. Flitwick, run up roog hmmm forgh...." Snape let his eyelids droop again, and the muggle woman was back.
"So, you see, the theory depends on the ways you and Harry are opposites. Like for instance your--"
"What's that?" Snape interrupted, pointing at the glowing box.
The muggle proudly turned it around to show him a board of alphabetic keys attached to a glowing screen covered with words. "It's an iBook," she said. "Which goes to prove this is a dream sequence, since I can't afford one. So, anyway, you were born in opposite months, you in January, and Harry six months away in July. You after the Winter Solstice, him after the Summer. Him, 'as the seventh month dies,' you as the first month is born--"
"The ninth," said Snape, glowering and wondering why this stranger knew his birthday. "That's not being born. That's a post-adolescent month. That's, um..." he calculated. "That's twenty-seven years old in month years."
It seemed important, and it seemed to make sense, somehow, but the muggle just said, "Whatever. Want some?" and pushed forward a bowl which had just appeared.
Inside the bowl were some small, lumpy objects. They were a shade of flourescent orange that screamed out that they were not meant to be eaten. Snape ate one. It seemed to be composed mainly of salt, grease and flour. Good, though. He took another.
"Want a soda?"
Snape thought a firewhiskey and soda would be very good right now, but suspected that it wasn't what the muggle had in mind. He was right.
"I've got cream soda, root beer, orange, and ginger ale," said the muggle. "It's all diet, though you don't look like you need it."
"Doesn't seem to have done you much good," Snape commented.
The Muggle frowned at him. "Watch it, buster. This IS a dream sequence. If you don't watch your step, I'll dream you being chased by a giant bumblebee, or driving off an open bridge or something." She put a metal cannister in front of him. There was a tab on the lid with the helpful note, "Pull Here."
Snape pried at the tab with his fingernails, and there was a hiss of escaping gas. as a hole opened in the top of the can. He took a cautious swig of the liquid inside, which fizzed suddenly inside his mouth, forcing its way up through his nose and making him cough and gag. His educated palate analysed the mixture, even as he tried to clear his air passages and wiped his nose on his sleeve. The water was carbonated and contained a subtle blend of chemical flavors and virulent poisons.
"Have you got anything...more...alcoholic?" he asked the muggle.
"Nah, that stuff will kill you."
Snape opened his eyes again. Dumbledore was STILL talking. The man loved the sound of his own voice.
"norf frun up to the tower. Pull out your wand mumph oort hummm baaa..."
Snape closed his eyes and the muggle was back. In his absense, his hands seemed to have been helping themselves to the lumpy snacks. They were turning a matching shade of orange.
"So, anyway," the muggle said. "What we need to do is compare other opposites between you and Harry. Like, for instance, Quidditch or flying is what Harry is best at, and judging from the Occlumency bucking-broom scene, what you're worst at. Harry seems to be okay at potions, though, so what are you good at that Harry sucks at? Occlumency! So, let's say Occlumency is your best thing..."
The muggle suddenly broke off to look at him. "Say, who was the laughing girl?" Snape looked at her blankly, wondering if all muggles spoke gibberish like this, or if it was only the American ones.
"Well, then, what sort of underwear do you wear?" she asked encouragingly. "Boxers? Briefs? I think you're a button drawers man myself..."
"What does my underwear have to do with anything?" Snape asked, offended.
The muggle shrugged. "Inquiring minds want to know..."
Snape let his eyes open briefly.
"...kill me, you zeeem woont yoo jook flooom hanoo..."
He shut them.
"And if Harry's your diametric opposite, and there was a prophecy for him to kill Voldemort, then there ought to have been a prophecy for you, too, right? Something like, 'The one is coming who has the power to defeat Dumbledore, born to parents who defied him thrice,' etcetera, etcetera, right?"
"Is there ever a moment when you actually make sense?" Snape asked out of genuine curiosity.
The muggle gave him a stern glare over the top of her glasses. "Do you want me to turn you over to the Lily shippers?" Snape shook his head. He had no idea what a lilyshipper was, but it sounded like something dangerous.
Opening his eyes quickly, he caught Dumbledore saying, " the Avada Kedavra, run away fooor ghooft minj..." he closed them.
"I wish you wouldn't keep doing that," the muggle complained.
"Well, step it up, then," said Snape. "The Headmaster sounds like he's winding down, and I need to be awake when he's finished. How does the rest of the theory go?"
"Oh, well, so Voldemort heard the prophecy and reacted with hate, trying to kill Harry, but Harry's going to destroy him with a power the Dark Lord knows not, love. And if Dumbledore's the diametric opposite of Voldemort, the situation needs to be reversed. Say he heard the prophecy, and reacted with love, taking you in, forgiving you, being kind to you, protecting you, trusting you and all that crop. But you have a power that Dumbledore knows not, the power of unabated hate, and you'll destroy him with it. Um, oh, and since Harry was 'The Boy Who Lived' at the beginning of the book, you'll be 'The Man Who Died' at the end."
"Finished?" said Snape. The muggle nodded.
"Right. Well, in the first place, I can not be Potter's diametric total opposite because, as you said, Harry does...scrape by in potions. And he's good at Defense against the Dark Arts, as am I. We have the same hair color, we are both male, and of very different, though by no means opposite ages. Secondly, I am not filled with hate, only with seething annoyance at the number of bloody fools I am forced to tolerate."
The muggle nodded seriously.
"And in the third place, I can not be Harry's anti-matter version. I HAVE seen Star Trek, thank you. Bloody Muggle film festival someone dragged me to. If I were Potter's anti-matter version, then every time we met there would be an explosion." He held up his hand as the muggle seemed about to speak. "I mean a universe-destroying explosion."
"Well, I guess I can trash that theory," said the muggle.
Snape stood. "Anything else before I go?"
"Is it okay if I refer to you as 'Snivvykins' on the message boards?"
"No, it is not."
Severus Snape opened his eyes.
"...get outside the castle to disapparate and reappear at Lord Voldemort's side." Dumbledore seemed to be finished, and everyone was packing up. Thank Merlin, now I can sleep, Snape thought.
As he left the meeting room, a hand clutched at his sleeve. He looked back. It was Minerva McGonagall.
"Severus," she said. "Did you get the plan all right? You seemed to be dozing a bit. Do you know your task, if the Death Eaters should somehow get inside the castle?"
"Certainly," said Snape. "I heard every word."
In case of Death Eater attack, stun Flitwick, run up the tower, pull out your wand and kill me using the Avada Kedavra, then run away outside the castle grounds and disapparate to Lord Voldemort's side. he thought. Simple. Seems like an odd thing to do, but Dumbledore's plans have always worked so far.
And after all..it's not like the Death Eaters will ever really get in here.
The Witches of Castle Crabapple
HOGWARTS STAFF MEETING---THE ASP AT HOGWARTS---THE PRINCE OF HOGWARTS
I Trusted Severus Snape
Last edited by Inkwolf; July 28th, 2005 at 4:18 am.
*sigh* After your most excellent postings, Inkwolf, mine seems, well, silly. But it's my first one to write, so all y'all be gentle, please?
I don't think anyone's written one about how Snape finds out he's got the DADA post, so I thought I'd try...
The letter sits on the table, unopened. Wormtail better not have touched it, wretched little man. Sighing, I pick it up. I know what it is-it’s my annual rejection to my application to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. I didn’t get my hopes up this year, though. Dumbledore will have found somebody else…again.
Tapping my wand against the seal, the letter opens and I begin to read:
Dear Severus Snape,
Thank you for your application for the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor. I am pleased to inform you that your application has been approved, and you are the new instructor for Defense Against the Dark Arts for Hogwarts.
Your new duties will commence with the start of term. Please have a lesson plan, book list, and syllabus returned to Hogwarts no later than July 15.
Wait a minute. Am I drunk? No, the firewhisky bottle isn’t open. Dreaming? I pinch myself—ouch, that hurt! I read the letter four times, and it still reads the same. I shake the envelope, and a small note falls out.
You win! You’ve got the job! You wore me down. Now I have to get a new Potions instructor. Hope you’re happy.
p.s.-the letter is a suitable size for framing.
YES!!! Finally, after sixteen years of begging and pleading, IT’S ALL MINE! MINE!! Bwahaha! Those students won’t know what hit them! I’m so happy I could smile! Hmm…do I have a frame to fit that letter?
What’s that? Knocking? Now who’d come to visit me here??? I get up and peek out the window. Oh heck. It’s Narcissa and that harridan sister of hers. What do they want? *grumble* I suppose I’d better let them in. *sigh*
Here's a very little speculative POV I felt compelled to dash off, based on JKR comments, book hints, and my temptation to keep needling certain shippers.
Severus Snape nearly sang as he walked down the sunny streets of the Muggle town. He had a cauldron under one arm, his potion-making kit tucked inside, and a stack of books under the other. He wore the formal black muggle suit and tie which he so enjoyed wearing, which never failed to shock and rile the stuffy, conventional wizards he met, and which his mother said made him look like some sort of anti-social muggle-loving mortician.
He liked that.
He liked even better that he was on his way to Lily Evan's house for an end-of-summer study session. His heart fluttering in his chest, he walked up to the door, sparing an appreciative glance for the white picket fence he admired. "That is SO evil," he thought. "And they don't even realize it."
He was grinning when the door opened, and barely got his foot in the gap before the object of his adoration tried to slam it on him again.
"Hello, my little mugglepuff," he said happily. "How are we today?"
"Drop dead," she snapped. "What are you doing here again?"
"Time to study," he said, dropping the heap of books on a table with a loud smack. "And I brought you something VERY cool. This." He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out something curved, black and sharp. In spite of herself, the girl peered at it.
"What is it?" she demanded suspiciously.
"A dementor's tooth" said Severus, unable to keep the awe and triumph out of his voice. "Bet you've never seen one of those before!"
"Ick, only you would think an old tooth was a romantic gift," she said. A look of revulsion twisted her face, but if anything, that excited Severus even more. "So, what's a dementor?"
"The deadly guards of the wizard prison, Azkaban," said Severus dramatically. "They drain the joy out of living creatures, bring back memories of your darkest despair and most horrible experiences, make your life a living hell, and then they suck...your....soul...right...OUT!!"
His love cringed back from his dramatically upraised arms, and Severus tried to compose himself, saying more matter-of-factly, "I have a small number of Dementor artifacts among my Dark Arts collection, but teeth are nearly impossible to come by. This is a particularly fine one...and it's for you." He reached out to hand her the precious item. She yelped and backed away.
"I had to eat fifteen live flobberworms before Lucius would give me this," he said, mildly hurt. "Fifteen! I was sick for a week."
"Keep it," snapped the girl, backing away further. "Keep your weird, sicko souvenirs, keep your wand to yourself, and keep your freaky hands off me."
"But..." Severus wondered just where the romantic interlude had gone wrong. "But, my darling..."
Don't call me that!" she shrieked. "Do you really think I'd ever be interested in...in...someone like YOU?"
"But love crosses all boundaries," he said, desperate. "I'll be shunned and despised for marrying someone with YOUR lineage, but I'm perfectly willing--"
But the girl had fled, shrieking, at the mention of marriage. Her footsteps thundered up the stairs.
Severus Snape, with the feeling that his heart had been shredded into hamster litter once more, sat morosely at the table. Upstairs, a voice was screaming, "That HORRIBLE BOY'S here again!"
After a few moments, a sympathetic voice spoke at his elbow. "Gave you the bum's rush again, did she, Severus?"
"Hullo, Lily," said Snape hollowly. He sighed.
"Well, never mind, Sevvie," said Lily Potter, giving him a sisterly peck on the cheek. "Don't give up hope. She's got to have SOME common sense in her, somewhere. Petunia will come around, I just know it."
The Witches of Castle Crabapple
HOGWARTS STAFF MEETING---THE ASP AT HOGWARTS---THE PRINCE OF HOGWARTS
I Trusted Severus Snape
Last edited by Inkwolf; July 29th, 2005 at 8:14 pm.
I thought this thread had died. I am subscribed to it and got no notification of new posts. Imagine my surprise to find it is pages on from when I was last here. Will be catching up on all of them over the weekend and will post the next instalment of "Snape and Wormtail - The Spinners End Years - A Tale of Domestic Disaster" to be known as Snape and Wormtail in the future since I am too lazy to write it all out every time I add to it.
Just skimmed the thread so not read everything properly yet. I want to savour all the new pieces. But did spot the mousetraps in the toilet by Serpentine - great stuff. I hadn't thought of putting one there. Though I do have more ideas for rat abuse soon.
"Snape and Wormtail - The Spinners End Years - A Tale of Domestic Disaster."
Severus woke up the following morning to the sound of off-key singing coming from the attic directly above him. He groaned and turned over, pulling a thick pillow over his head as he moved. It was no use, the sound of the screeching from Wormtail was not going to be drowned out this way. He reached across to grab his wand from the bedside table and considered casting a spell to dull out the sounds from above him.
"Oh, what's the point?" Snape snapped to himself as he dragged himself out of bed. He wouldn't get back to sleep now anyway. He'd just have to remember in the future that Wormtail was a morning person and take precautions to ensure that he wasn't disturbed.
Thirty minutes later Severus was seated in the kitchen, studiously ignoring Voldemort's owl, Snowflake, who was tapping away at the window and trying to gain his attention.
"I'll let him in shall I?" Wormtail said from across the table where he was finishing off the last of the coffee, thus depriving Severus of his customary fourth mug.
"Leave him out there for a bit," Severus replied, stopping Wormtail in his tracks.
"It might be important?" Wormtail replied, looking worriedly at the window.
"If it was urgent the Dark Lord would summon me through the Dark Mark," Snape pointed out, as though to a child. "He only sends his owl for trivial nonsense."
"What if it's for me though?" Wormtail replied. Severus smirked as he waited for the little rat to realise what he had said.
"Perhaps it is," he finally replied when he had seen the desired embarrassed reaction from Wormtail. "Why don't you go see?"
Wormtail jumped up and scuttled to the sink where he reached to open the window and let in the now frantic bird. He reached for the scroll it was carrying and yelped in pain as Snowflake bit hard into his finger before flying casually over to the table and dropping the missive into Snape's porridge.
He scowled at the bird but picked up the scroll anyway.
Confirmation is required that you are now available for additional duties throughout the summer holidays. Please reply in the affirmative by return, indicating preferred choice of service.
1. Potions Master
3. Clean Up Crew
4. Werewolf tamer
Severus quickly ticked the first option as he had done every other time he had received the pointless form. It wasn't like he wasn't going to be ordered to do whatever the Dark Lord wanted, the pretence at choice and democracy was almost laughable.
Severus was about to send the scroll back when he spotted an addition to the previous ones.
Ensure Wormtail ticks his preferred choice of service from the following options.
Severus looked towards the little rat who was still blubbering over his cut finger. He didn't know what was in the message. He didn't know he had to choose something. Severus smirked to himself and ignoring the knowing gaze of Snowflake he silently read the options for Wormtail.
1. Clean Up Crew
2. Broomstick valeting service
3. Bathroom Attendant
4. Werewolf tamer
Severus calmly ticked the last box on the list. No sense letting the little rat have a cushy little number and he doubted that his waxing poetic about his pals at Hogwart's would go down too well with the current stock of werewolves. With a bit of luck he'd be maimed and incapacitated by the end of the week.
Severus re-attached the scroll and shooed the bird out the window before Wormtail realised he was missing something.
Next job - get ratboy out of the house for a while. Severus quickly did a scan of his potions cabinet and within a few minutes Wormtail was on his way to Diagon Alley for supplies.
"But what if someone recognises me?" Wormtail whined in horror at his first task of the day.
"It's the price of fame," Snape said consolingly as he unceremoniously kicked him out of the door, lying that he had run out of floo powder and suggesting Wormtail pick some up while he was there.
"Good morning Miss Pickles," Severus greeted his neighbour from the doorway. He snickered as he saw Wormtail look around and realise he couldn't apparate either.
Miss Pickles sniffed loudly but didn't reply. She looked down her nose at Wormtail as though trying to decide what he was. Severus gave Wormtail a smug little wave as he hurried down the road and out of sight. Severus knew that on a busy morning such as today he would have a rather long walk before he found somewhere quiet to apparate from. Not that he was bothered, the longer he was out from under his feet the better.
He nodded to Miss Pickles as he went back inside. It was a pity that there wasn't a permanent way to get shot of the little rat.
Then in a moment of crystal clarity it came to him.
A minute later Severus Snape knelt at the back door to his house with a saucer of milk before him on the step.
"Here kitty, kitty," he called, feeling slightly ridiculous and hoping Miss Pickles didn't hear him as he tried to entice her cat out from wherever it was hiding.
He hoped it was a good mouser.
To be continued....
Last edited by LouisaB; December 28th, 2005 at 12:03 pm.
"Werewolf Tamer" - I love it!! : )
Ok - you all have inspired me to attempt my first POV. It's not much, and it's not funny . . . just how I view a certain scene from HBP. It's got my favorite line in it . . .
“You will now divide into pairs. One partner will attempt to jinx the other without speaking. The other will attempt to repel the jinx in equal silence. Carry on.”
Now let’s see if these Dunderheads can grasp this abysmally simple but incredibly necessary concept. Ah, I see not. Why am I surprised? People dropping like flies in the war against the Dark Lord, but yet the students remain blissfully unaware of what their futures may hold.
Longbottom and Granger, what a pair. Let’s hope she jinxes his ears off – maybe that will teach him to listen and pay attention. I see she’s managed to block his very verbal spell nonverbally at least, well that’s more than I expected from today’s lesson. Pity she can’t reach past the books. . . she’ll never reach her potential by using them as a crutch and doesn’t even see it, silly girl. What a waste of my time.
Potter and Weasley, oh this should be fun! Ah yes, Weasley has turned a lovely shade of violent purple – such a beautiful clashing with his red hair. Shall I help them out? Might be fun to humiliate Potter some . . . deflate that big head of his . . . maybe I’ll just let them squirm a little longer . . .
“Pathetic, Weasley . . . here – let me show you – “
And now Potter, let’s see what you make of . . .
“Protego!” bellowed the brat.
Oof! Confound the boy and his power! That was some blocking spell. I doubt he even knows how much power he’s got . . . needlessly shouting like that. Will he ever listen? Will he ever learn? What have I got to do, give him detention for the rest of his life?
“Do you remember me telling you we are practicing nonverbal spells, Potter?”
“Yes” replied the brat sulkily.
“Yes, sir.” I will make you respect me if it’s the last thing I do, Potter!
“There’s no need to call me ‘sir’, Professor.”
Ooh, good one. Actually, quite a quip there . . . I’ll have to remember that one. Wonder if the Dark Lord would appreciate it the same way though . . .hm . . . oh yea, got to put Potter in his place –
“Detention, Saturday night, my office. I do not take cheek from anyone, Potter . . . not even ‘the Chosen One.’” Although I won’t deduct points because you managed to insult me while at the same time showing respect, quite the feat for your little pea-sized brain. Maybe there’s hope for you yet. Consider yourself lucky, Potter.
Alan wants you to come by the ARAS
Last edited by Billywiggy; July 31st, 2005 at 12:22 am.
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