The Mathematician's Premise
Apr. 17th, 2005 10:43 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cthulhuchanOriginally written for Wave V of Kardasi's From Dusk 'till Dawn fest.
Pairing: HP/SS
Rating: PG-13/R
First Line Challenge: Dumbledore was gone and Snape was the Headmaster of Hogwarts. The first thing he would do was hire Potter in some capacity.
(actual first line cleaned up for grammar.)
Dumbledore was gone and Snape was the Headmaster of Hogwarts. The first thing he would do was hire Potter in some capacity.
The thought brought him up short, his feet almost stumbling to a halt as it dropped into his mind like a stone.
Hire Potter in some capacity.
Snape sneered. He couldn't possibly have thought that. In the eleven years since the final defeat of Voldemort Severus Snape had rarely thought of the importunate brat that had delivered the blow that saved the world. He knew that Albus Dumbledore had seen to Potter's care after the final battle, but like the rest of the Wizarding world, Snape had been caught up in the rebuilding of the destruction that the Dark Lord had caused. In all honesty, he hadn't the faintest notion if the boy had taken his NEWTs, much less what the boy's scores might have been.
Come to think of it, it was as if the boy had fallen from the face of the world. The Daily Prophet had lauded Potter briefly as a hero before going on to the more current interest of the reformation of the Ministry, once the breadth and depth of Death Eater influence had been exposed.
But the thought kept coming back, insistent.
Hire Potter in some capacity.
Snape could feel the buzz of ancient magic around the edges of the words, a forceful insistence that spoke of stone-cold determination.
Hire Potter in some capacity, Headmaster.
Bring Harry Home.
The force of the demand almost sent him to his knees. It was the castle - Hogwarts had addressed him directly, a circumstance that Snape had never heard of before, and feared the meaning of.
Hogwarts wanted Harry Potter to return.
Snape frowned, indecisive. There was, unfortunately, a veritable blizzard of paperwork awaiting him in the headmaster's - now his - office. If there was one thing that the wizarding world shared with its non-magical counterpart, it was reams of papers to be filed, filled out, and signed in centuplicate. Yet this matter of Harry Potter, the very nature of the demand that Hogwarts made on him...
Paperwork or research?
He stared down the corridor that led to his office and shook his head. There was no real competition after all. His cloak swirled menacingly around him as he whirled around to head to the Library, and Snape almost regretted the current absence of the little monsters - also known as schoolchildren - to frighten.
Snape enjoyed the way his footsteps echoed in the empty corridors, the clear ring of booted heel striking polished granite. It was an ominous sound that could send would-be miscreants scurrying down halls and to their dorms in an ever-pleasant game of cat and mouse. He most enjoyed it when students were too occupied to notice the fair warning of his purposeful stride and could strip points for anything from being out of bounds to flagrant indecency.
Students caught in flagrante delicto by the Headmaster of the school. He chuckled. Griffindor was in such danger of losing points this year -
That thought brought him up a bit short. Albus Dumbledore had been a great man. He would be greatly missed, by Snape and by countless others. If there was one thing, however, that Snape never wanted to emulate in his mentor and friend, it was a level of favoritism that could split the school. Snape had always promised himself that should he ever become Headmaster, he would not so blatantly favor one house over another, even his own.
He would have to give up one of his favorite hobbies.
Damn.
Turning a corner, he found himself at the doors of the Library with a puddle of Hermione Granger at his feet.
"Oh! Goodness! I'm terribly sorry Headmaster, I wasn't looking where I was going." Granger had grown up in the decade or so after the defeat of the Dark Lord, not that she'd had much choice. The youngest Weasely son had died on the field, leaving her pregnant and unwed. If not for Dumbledore's influence, Hermione Granger would have been expelled just before her NEWTs for lewd behavior. The wizarding world was not particularly forgiving of such pregnancies, and Granger, despite being at the top of her class, found herself alone and virtually unemployable at the age of eighteen.
The Weasley clan though not hooked on the notion of 'pure blood' was, in a number of ways, very traditional. They'd abandoned the girl when it had become obvious that she had allowed Ronald to touch her before marriage. Snape found it incredibly ironic that they couldn't have cared less that Granger was a mudblood, but having allowed Ronald Weasely intimacy on the night before he died could not be forgiven.
"No matter, Miss Granger. As it happens, you are precisely the person I wanted to see."
Surprised brown eyes met his. "Sir?"
"I was wondering if you could give me Potter's direction, I need to speak with him."
She blinked, surprised. "Potter? Who -"
"Harry Potter. The-Boy-Who-Lived. Surely you remember him." Granger continued to stare at him and he glared back at her, anger rising. "You do know who I'm talking about, do you not? Harry Potter, lightning-bolt scar, Triwizard Champion, defeater of Voldemort?"
"Harry..." Her eyes closed, and she frowned slightly. "I... Once I knew someone named Harry. Why would I know where he is, though? He was just a schoolmate."
"Just a schoolmate?"
"Well... yes."
Something twisted in his gut. There was something terribly wrong with this. "I see. Never mind, then. Will young Robert be attending classes this year?"
She smiled softly. "Yes. The pen addressed a letter for him today."
He nodded, unsuprised. Robert Ronald Granger would not quite be eleven come September, but he was as brilliant and precocious as his mother was.
Granger excused herself, murmuring something about meeting her son after school. Snape stared after her thoughtfully. He knew that she had spent a number of years in the Muggle world, gaining the higher education that the Wizarding world would have denied her. Fortunately for her, her parents had been quite supportive, helping her with both the time and space to grieve for the loss of the young man she had planned to wed as well as welcoming the new addition to their family.
When Hermione Granger had re-entered the Wizarding world she had not needed to take the Defense Against the Dark Arts position Albus had offered her. Wizarding Britain might not have welcomed an unwed, muggle-born mother, but Granger's brilliance and inventiveness had been all but pounced upon by the Americans almost from the moment she had entered Diagon Alley.
Sometimes Snape wondered if the current Minister of Magic, Percy Weasely, regretted the treatment Granger received at the hands of his family, as it was costing the British Ministry a fortune to purchase the gadgets and widgets that Granger had successfully adapted from Muggle to Wizard use. It would be interesting to see what would happen this year, as William Weasely's eldest would begin Hogwarts this year with Granger's son.
He shook his head. Weasely/Granger confrontations were the least of his worries if Hermione Granger could barely remember the Boy Who Lived. That smacked of something sinister and terribly insidious.
With the Dark Lord long gone, there was only one person who could have done such a thing, especially if it was on the scale Snape was beginning to suspect. The one person in the world that everyone trusted to do the right, just, and honorable thing, even in hideous, trying times.
It sounded like Albus Dumbledore had a lot to answer for.
And, of course, he just had to be dead.
In the Wizarding World there are, of course, a few dozen ways to try to speak to the Dead. One or two of them are not even considered Dark Arts. If one has the native talent to do so, it is possible to wander around cemeteries and converse with those entombed there. With the right spells, one might be able to view recreations of past events and by doing so understand the motivations behind them. When one has blood and bone belonging to the deceased, it is possible to brew revelations.
Of course, Snape wasn't a gifted medium, despised the wand-waving needed for psychometric spells, and while he had more than enough skill to brew the appropriate potions, Albus had been adamant about being cremated and his ashes scattered throughout the grounds of Hogwarts.
On the other hand, he did have the obligatory snoozing Headmaster portrait of Dumbledore in his office.
For a moment, he studied the portrait that was placed above and behind the headmaster's desk. It was typical of Albus to have had the portrait painted while he was wearing magenta robes decorated with puce paisleys. It amazed him that portrait-Albus could sleep with that eye-blinding combination on. Snape snorted.
"Wake up, old man." He ignored the chorus of irritated jeers that came from the other Headmasters and waited for the portrait to gain a little bit of sense.
"Ahhh, Severus. Lemon drop?"
"Don't be ridiculous."
Albus shrugged and took one out of the tin in his hand. Somehow the artist had managed to capture that infuriating twinkle in the old man's eyes.
"What can I do for you, my boy? Isn't it a little early for you to be needing the help of the quietly dead?"
"It would be if I knew why the castle is demanding the return of one Harry Potter... and if the impudent brat's best friend had a notion of where he was. Or even who he was."
"Ah. Harry Potter. An intriguing problem, my old friend." The twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes faded as the portrait seemed to stare off somewhere in the middle distance. "I had not thought that it would begin so soon."
"That what would begin so soon?"
"You need to get him into the castle."
"Indubitably so, given the demand that the Castle itself is making upon me. What have you done?"
"What was necessary, but soon - you must find him, Severus."
"Where has he gone?"
"I don't know."
Snape scowled. Of course, it was entirely possible that this claim was true. Wizarding portraits of this type had the imprint of the personality of the one who had been painted and as such had a limited access to the knowledge that the sitter had held. Unfortunately, if Albus Dumbledore had not allowed this information to be available to his portrait, then short of a series of spells that involved an unreasonable amount of blood, there was little chance of retrieving the information.
"Damnation and Perdition! How am I supposed to deal with this?"
"Perhaps I left you a message about it?" That damned twinkle was back and Snape simply growled at the portrait. It was, of course, possible. After all, his desk was covered in approximately a half-ton of parchment and he had already found a variety of messages referring to some of the quirks of staff and of the castle.
"Perhaps you did -" There was a tap on his door. "Enter!"
"Headmaster?" Granger poked her head in the door, revealing that she had changed out of the casual muggle clothing he'd seen her in earlier and that she'd swept her hair up into a rather elegant chignon. "You were asking me earlier about Harry Potter? I thought you'd like to see this."
She handed him a creamy piece of parchment with the Hogwarts Seal at the top. He scanned the familiar words written in an easily recognizable, elegant hand. A Hogwarts Acceptance Letter written to one Harry Potter, #4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.
A Hogwarts Acceptance Letter that was dated today.
He stared at it. "That's just about impossible."
"Perhaps he had a son?" She winced as he threw her one of his best scowls. Snape managed to school his expression with some difficulty. He doubted that there would be much point in mentioning that Harry Potter had not only been in her year, but in her House.
"Perhaps. I do know that the last time an acceptance letter went to that address, it was almost impossible for it to be delivered. I think that I will have to do the honors myself."
Granger's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "If you wish it hand delivered, Headmaster, I don't mind taking it. This address is in the Muggle world you realize."
At this, Snape smiled faintly. Hermione Granger had spirit. Perhaps he should put her name forward for Deputy Headmistress. As it was, he was certain that she would make an excellent Head of House, not that he had told her that she would be taking over for Minerva McGonagall yet.
"I am aware, Miss Granger. However, I think that in this case it would be most apropos for the new Headmaster of Hogwarts to bring this information to Harry Potter directly."
"As you wish, Headmaster." She frowned slightly. "I was wondering if you would mind if I took a couple of personal days, sir, to equip Robbie and spend some time in London."
"Miss Granger, I know that this will come as a shock after nearly five years of being co-workers, but if you would please call me Severus?"
"Yes, sir - I mean Severus. I never could get into the habit of calling the Headmaster Albus."
He laughed, ignoring the shock that registered in her eyes. "I know. I was never quite able to do it either. However, despite the fantasies I engaged in while you were in school, I find it strangely distressing for you to be quite so subservient. Even if you cannot find it in yourself to call me by name, even 'Professor' would be preferable."
"I - well, thank you. Severus." Her eyes smiled though her mouth hardly moved. "Ron is probably rolling in his grave, but... you may call me Hermione."
"Perhaps. I was not precisely one of his favorite people."
"Well, no. You were a sadistic bastard, if I may say so."
"Of course you may. I work very hard to be, you realize." Snape quirked an eyebrow as she smothered a grin. How very odd that she could recall that, but not that Harry Potter was one third of the unbreakable trio. "But that is neither here nor there. One thing, Miss Granger - Hermione - that I insist that you realize. The Wizarding World is not very progressive in many ways. The family values that most hold to, while admirable, are unaccountably unyielding. Despite the many unfavorable, cruel, and misguided things that have been said of you by people I know you cared for and trusted - you are a talented, competent, honest woman and I think you need to know that Albus Dumbledore was not the only person to see that."
For a moment she gaped at him, mouth moving and nothing coming out. Then her jaw snapped shut and there was a suspicious brightness in her eyes. Even after five years as a teacher at Hogwarts some of the staff and student body shunned her outside of formal situations.
"Thank you. Sir."
"You're very welcome, Miss Granger. As to your leave, I see no difficulty in that so long as the rest of the letters ready to go."
"Professor McGonnagal finished signing them and mentioned that she was glad that she would be retiring at the end of summer. I can't blame her. I'd never quite realized how much work it was, between the Acceptance Letters and the equipment lists. Which reminds me... there's a second letter to the same address - for a Bella Black."
"An embarrassment of riches, I see."
"Two magical children in a Muggle household? It must be quite frightening, really."
Snape remembering the madness of Bellatrix Black Lestrange nodded.
Part II
Pairing: HP/SS
Rating: PG-13/R
First Line Challenge: Dumbledore was gone and Snape was the Headmaster of Hogwarts. The first thing he would do was hire Potter in some capacity.
(actual first line cleaned up for grammar.)
Dumbledore was gone and Snape was the Headmaster of Hogwarts. The first thing he would do was hire Potter in some capacity.
The thought brought him up short, his feet almost stumbling to a halt as it dropped into his mind like a stone.
Hire Potter in some capacity.
Snape sneered. He couldn't possibly have thought that. In the eleven years since the final defeat of Voldemort Severus Snape had rarely thought of the importunate brat that had delivered the blow that saved the world. He knew that Albus Dumbledore had seen to Potter's care after the final battle, but like the rest of the Wizarding world, Snape had been caught up in the rebuilding of the destruction that the Dark Lord had caused. In all honesty, he hadn't the faintest notion if the boy had taken his NEWTs, much less what the boy's scores might have been.
Come to think of it, it was as if the boy had fallen from the face of the world. The Daily Prophet had lauded Potter briefly as a hero before going on to the more current interest of the reformation of the Ministry, once the breadth and depth of Death Eater influence had been exposed.
But the thought kept coming back, insistent.
Hire Potter in some capacity.
Snape could feel the buzz of ancient magic around the edges of the words, a forceful insistence that spoke of stone-cold determination.
Hire Potter in some capacity, Headmaster.
Bring Harry Home.
The force of the demand almost sent him to his knees. It was the castle - Hogwarts had addressed him directly, a circumstance that Snape had never heard of before, and feared the meaning of.
Hogwarts wanted Harry Potter to return.
Snape frowned, indecisive. There was, unfortunately, a veritable blizzard of paperwork awaiting him in the headmaster's - now his - office. If there was one thing that the wizarding world shared with its non-magical counterpart, it was reams of papers to be filed, filled out, and signed in centuplicate. Yet this matter of Harry Potter, the very nature of the demand that Hogwarts made on him...
Paperwork or research?
He stared down the corridor that led to his office and shook his head. There was no real competition after all. His cloak swirled menacingly around him as he whirled around to head to the Library, and Snape almost regretted the current absence of the little monsters - also known as schoolchildren - to frighten.
Snape enjoyed the way his footsteps echoed in the empty corridors, the clear ring of booted heel striking polished granite. It was an ominous sound that could send would-be miscreants scurrying down halls and to their dorms in an ever-pleasant game of cat and mouse. He most enjoyed it when students were too occupied to notice the fair warning of his purposeful stride and could strip points for anything from being out of bounds to flagrant indecency.
Students caught in flagrante delicto by the Headmaster of the school. He chuckled. Griffindor was in such danger of losing points this year -
That thought brought him up a bit short. Albus Dumbledore had been a great man. He would be greatly missed, by Snape and by countless others. If there was one thing, however, that Snape never wanted to emulate in his mentor and friend, it was a level of favoritism that could split the school. Snape had always promised himself that should he ever become Headmaster, he would not so blatantly favor one house over another, even his own.
He would have to give up one of his favorite hobbies.
Damn.
Turning a corner, he found himself at the doors of the Library with a puddle of Hermione Granger at his feet.
"Oh! Goodness! I'm terribly sorry Headmaster, I wasn't looking where I was going." Granger had grown up in the decade or so after the defeat of the Dark Lord, not that she'd had much choice. The youngest Weasely son had died on the field, leaving her pregnant and unwed. If not for Dumbledore's influence, Hermione Granger would have been expelled just before her NEWTs for lewd behavior. The wizarding world was not particularly forgiving of such pregnancies, and Granger, despite being at the top of her class, found herself alone and virtually unemployable at the age of eighteen.
The Weasley clan though not hooked on the notion of 'pure blood' was, in a number of ways, very traditional. They'd abandoned the girl when it had become obvious that she had allowed Ronald to touch her before marriage. Snape found it incredibly ironic that they couldn't have cared less that Granger was a mudblood, but having allowed Ronald Weasely intimacy on the night before he died could not be forgiven.
"No matter, Miss Granger. As it happens, you are precisely the person I wanted to see."
Surprised brown eyes met his. "Sir?"
"I was wondering if you could give me Potter's direction, I need to speak with him."
She blinked, surprised. "Potter? Who -"
"Harry Potter. The-Boy-Who-Lived. Surely you remember him." Granger continued to stare at him and he glared back at her, anger rising. "You do know who I'm talking about, do you not? Harry Potter, lightning-bolt scar, Triwizard Champion, defeater of Voldemort?"
"Harry..." Her eyes closed, and she frowned slightly. "I... Once I knew someone named Harry. Why would I know where he is, though? He was just a schoolmate."
"Just a schoolmate?"
"Well... yes."
Something twisted in his gut. There was something terribly wrong with this. "I see. Never mind, then. Will young Robert be attending classes this year?"
She smiled softly. "Yes. The pen addressed a letter for him today."
He nodded, unsuprised. Robert Ronald Granger would not quite be eleven come September, but he was as brilliant and precocious as his mother was.
Granger excused herself, murmuring something about meeting her son after school. Snape stared after her thoughtfully. He knew that she had spent a number of years in the Muggle world, gaining the higher education that the Wizarding world would have denied her. Fortunately for her, her parents had been quite supportive, helping her with both the time and space to grieve for the loss of the young man she had planned to wed as well as welcoming the new addition to their family.
When Hermione Granger had re-entered the Wizarding world she had not needed to take the Defense Against the Dark Arts position Albus had offered her. Wizarding Britain might not have welcomed an unwed, muggle-born mother, but Granger's brilliance and inventiveness had been all but pounced upon by the Americans almost from the moment she had entered Diagon Alley.
Sometimes Snape wondered if the current Minister of Magic, Percy Weasely, regretted the treatment Granger received at the hands of his family, as it was costing the British Ministry a fortune to purchase the gadgets and widgets that Granger had successfully adapted from Muggle to Wizard use. It would be interesting to see what would happen this year, as William Weasely's eldest would begin Hogwarts this year with Granger's son.
He shook his head. Weasely/Granger confrontations were the least of his worries if Hermione Granger could barely remember the Boy Who Lived. That smacked of something sinister and terribly insidious.
With the Dark Lord long gone, there was only one person who could have done such a thing, especially if it was on the scale Snape was beginning to suspect. The one person in the world that everyone trusted to do the right, just, and honorable thing, even in hideous, trying times.
It sounded like Albus Dumbledore had a lot to answer for.
And, of course, he just had to be dead.
In the Wizarding World there are, of course, a few dozen ways to try to speak to the Dead. One or two of them are not even considered Dark Arts. If one has the native talent to do so, it is possible to wander around cemeteries and converse with those entombed there. With the right spells, one might be able to view recreations of past events and by doing so understand the motivations behind them. When one has blood and bone belonging to the deceased, it is possible to brew revelations.
Of course, Snape wasn't a gifted medium, despised the wand-waving needed for psychometric spells, and while he had more than enough skill to brew the appropriate potions, Albus had been adamant about being cremated and his ashes scattered throughout the grounds of Hogwarts.
On the other hand, he did have the obligatory snoozing Headmaster portrait of Dumbledore in his office.
For a moment, he studied the portrait that was placed above and behind the headmaster's desk. It was typical of Albus to have had the portrait painted while he was wearing magenta robes decorated with puce paisleys. It amazed him that portrait-Albus could sleep with that eye-blinding combination on. Snape snorted.
"Wake up, old man." He ignored the chorus of irritated jeers that came from the other Headmasters and waited for the portrait to gain a little bit of sense.
"Ahhh, Severus. Lemon drop?"
"Don't be ridiculous."
Albus shrugged and took one out of the tin in his hand. Somehow the artist had managed to capture that infuriating twinkle in the old man's eyes.
"What can I do for you, my boy? Isn't it a little early for you to be needing the help of the quietly dead?"
"It would be if I knew why the castle is demanding the return of one Harry Potter... and if the impudent brat's best friend had a notion of where he was. Or even who he was."
"Ah. Harry Potter. An intriguing problem, my old friend." The twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes faded as the portrait seemed to stare off somewhere in the middle distance. "I had not thought that it would begin so soon."
"That what would begin so soon?"
"You need to get him into the castle."
"Indubitably so, given the demand that the Castle itself is making upon me. What have you done?"
"What was necessary, but soon - you must find him, Severus."
"Where has he gone?"
"I don't know."
Snape scowled. Of course, it was entirely possible that this claim was true. Wizarding portraits of this type had the imprint of the personality of the one who had been painted and as such had a limited access to the knowledge that the sitter had held. Unfortunately, if Albus Dumbledore had not allowed this information to be available to his portrait, then short of a series of spells that involved an unreasonable amount of blood, there was little chance of retrieving the information.
"Damnation and Perdition! How am I supposed to deal with this?"
"Perhaps I left you a message about it?" That damned twinkle was back and Snape simply growled at the portrait. It was, of course, possible. After all, his desk was covered in approximately a half-ton of parchment and he had already found a variety of messages referring to some of the quirks of staff and of the castle.
"Perhaps you did -" There was a tap on his door. "Enter!"
"Headmaster?" Granger poked her head in the door, revealing that she had changed out of the casual muggle clothing he'd seen her in earlier and that she'd swept her hair up into a rather elegant chignon. "You were asking me earlier about Harry Potter? I thought you'd like to see this."
She handed him a creamy piece of parchment with the Hogwarts Seal at the top. He scanned the familiar words written in an easily recognizable, elegant hand. A Hogwarts Acceptance Letter written to one Harry Potter, #4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.
A Hogwarts Acceptance Letter that was dated today.
He stared at it. "That's just about impossible."
"Perhaps he had a son?" She winced as he threw her one of his best scowls. Snape managed to school his expression with some difficulty. He doubted that there would be much point in mentioning that Harry Potter had not only been in her year, but in her House.
"Perhaps. I do know that the last time an acceptance letter went to that address, it was almost impossible for it to be delivered. I think that I will have to do the honors myself."
Granger's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "If you wish it hand delivered, Headmaster, I don't mind taking it. This address is in the Muggle world you realize."
At this, Snape smiled faintly. Hermione Granger had spirit. Perhaps he should put her name forward for Deputy Headmistress. As it was, he was certain that she would make an excellent Head of House, not that he had told her that she would be taking over for Minerva McGonagall yet.
"I am aware, Miss Granger. However, I think that in this case it would be most apropos for the new Headmaster of Hogwarts to bring this information to Harry Potter directly."
"As you wish, Headmaster." She frowned slightly. "I was wondering if you would mind if I took a couple of personal days, sir, to equip Robbie and spend some time in London."
"Miss Granger, I know that this will come as a shock after nearly five years of being co-workers, but if you would please call me Severus?"
"Yes, sir - I mean Severus. I never could get into the habit of calling the Headmaster Albus."
He laughed, ignoring the shock that registered in her eyes. "I know. I was never quite able to do it either. However, despite the fantasies I engaged in while you were in school, I find it strangely distressing for you to be quite so subservient. Even if you cannot find it in yourself to call me by name, even 'Professor' would be preferable."
"I - well, thank you. Severus." Her eyes smiled though her mouth hardly moved. "Ron is probably rolling in his grave, but... you may call me Hermione."
"Perhaps. I was not precisely one of his favorite people."
"Well, no. You were a sadistic bastard, if I may say so."
"Of course you may. I work very hard to be, you realize." Snape quirked an eyebrow as she smothered a grin. How very odd that she could recall that, but not that Harry Potter was one third of the unbreakable trio. "But that is neither here nor there. One thing, Miss Granger - Hermione - that I insist that you realize. The Wizarding World is not very progressive in many ways. The family values that most hold to, while admirable, are unaccountably unyielding. Despite the many unfavorable, cruel, and misguided things that have been said of you by people I know you cared for and trusted - you are a talented, competent, honest woman and I think you need to know that Albus Dumbledore was not the only person to see that."
For a moment she gaped at him, mouth moving and nothing coming out. Then her jaw snapped shut and there was a suspicious brightness in her eyes. Even after five years as a teacher at Hogwarts some of the staff and student body shunned her outside of formal situations.
"Thank you. Sir."
"You're very welcome, Miss Granger. As to your leave, I see no difficulty in that so long as the rest of the letters ready to go."
"Professor McGonnagal finished signing them and mentioned that she was glad that she would be retiring at the end of summer. I can't blame her. I'd never quite realized how much work it was, between the Acceptance Letters and the equipment lists. Which reminds me... there's a second letter to the same address - for a Bella Black."
"An embarrassment of riches, I see."
"Two magical children in a Muggle household? It must be quite frightening, really."
Snape remembering the madness of Bellatrix Black Lestrange nodded.
Part II
