Saturday, January 9, 1982

“How many birthdays did you share with Lily? Her son had but one,� Albus Dumbledore said as he sat down for breakfast and reached for the toast caddy.

Severus Snape’s hand, poised to cut the top off an egg, dropped the knife noisily onto the charger plate. Suddenly nauseous, he swallowed deeply as the bile rose in his throat. The young wizard glanced at the headmaster. Dumbledore had a studied expression of innocence on his face, all the while scooping a heaping spoonful of marmalade onto a slice of toast.

The man could have been a Slytherin.

He should have known the headmaster would choose today to rub more salt into the very large wound that was Lily. The man almost seemed to enjoy seeing his former student’s discomposure by bringing up her name when he least expected it. Except, having spied, he should have known to expect the unexpected—from anyone at any time—especially from the most powerful wizard alive.

The young Potions master perused the Great Hall to see if anyone had noticed his discomposure.

A few of the older members of Gryffindor, who remembered him as a glowering seventh year, hurriedly looked away from his intense black glare. They seemed to believe he knew exactly what they were thinking, and Snape was not about to dispel their suspicions.

Severus had felt a bit out of his depth; he had no idea how to teach. Albus Dumbledore had given him a teaching job and otherwise little more than Slughorn’s old teaching guides. They consisted of a jumble of potions that didn’t logically progress forwards.

With some trepidation, he had approached the Deputy Headmistress a few days before he began teaching. He’d been aware that his old Transfiguration teacher had not particularly liked him when he was a student, but all the same, she had always been moderately fair in her dealings with him. He thought she might be relatively open to his plight.

“Students will try to take advantage of you if you don’t establish yourself as their professor,� she had said. “You’re not so long out of school not to know that, Severus. At the same time, not allowing students to make mistakes will not teach them how to figure things out on their own.�

He had mulled over the witch’s suggestion. No, I don't agree with allowing them to 'find things out on their own.' It's absolute idiocy.

“I suggest you follow Horace Slughorn’s curriculum for a term before you make any decisions about changing it,� McGonagall suggested as she poured two cups of strong tea. “Instruct the first and second years on the basics; it’s the only way to give the young witches and wizards a firm understanding of the principles of magic.� She waved one cup over to Severus.

In the end, it had been the Head of Gryffindor who had given him practical information on how to teach, not the headmaster. Dumbledore had left him to succeed or fail on his own intrinsic ability.

Hogwarts students learned very quickly that the new Potions master was strict and quick to take points for the slightest infraction—real or imagined. The students noted that trying to get in good with Professor Snape was pointless; he wasn’t interested in furthering himself through social connections the way his cheerful predecessor had been.

In fact, they seemed to think he was rude, sarcastic, and impossible to please. He would beg to differ about being rude; he was merely honest. Yes, he knew he had a biting sarcasm; but then who wouldn’t if they’d heard the pitiful excuses his students gave him?

“Professor Snape, Trevor’s cat peed on my scroll.� Severus had demanded to see the urine stained homework, and then had taken five points from Hufflepuff when Bones couldn’t produce the scroll.

“I had detention with Mr. Filch until eleven last night, in case you forgot.� He had given Weasley another detention for his attitude.

“Sir, Morgana hexed my quill.�

The students must think I am an idiot if they think I’d fall for that! Severus thought as he glared at a Gryffindor walking past him.

He had a position of authority and wasn’t afraid to use it. Snape found a modicum of self-satisfaction in getting revenge for all the humiliations he’d endured as a student. The focus of his negative attention tended to lean most often towards Gryffindors. Yes, he knew it was often petty, but it helped to assuage some of his resentment at the treatment he had received from four of their predecessors.

Even the students in Slytherin learned that he was difficult—that he constantly monitored and harangued them for a lack of cunning.

“You dunderheads would do well to learn the art of subtlety,� he’d tell them. Snape was no easy-going Slughorn.

The other professors thought he favoured his own House—which was true. He did not want his House to lose points for stupidity. Severus wasn’t so far removed from a student’s life that he didn’t want to see Slytherin victorious—at least over Gryffindor.

The banal conversations of the students annoyed him. The first years were aggravating because they spoke without permission, wiggled on their benches, and wrote as if they were complete illiterates. More than a fair few had fled his dungeon in tears when he tongue-lashed them, and he didn’t care.

Dumbledore had given him a job to do whether he was suited to it or not—and Snape did not like very much. Thus far the headmaster hadn’t complained about the way he ran his lessons or treated his students. When students complained about ‘Snape,’ Dumbledore corrected them with a firm reminder that he was ‘Professor Snape.’ Though the headmaster would reduce the punishments his Potions master meted out to Gryffindors more often than he cared to think.

Perhaps what Severus Snape found most irritating was Professor Dumbledore’s attempts at consoling him. One December morning, looking over the top of his half-moon glasses, the old man put down his sugary cup of tea.

“I'm sure that with the passing of time you'll feel the pain recede, and you might not think of her every day," the old wizard said with some sympathy. "The past is history; it cannot be altered. We, all of us, have to look to the future. Lily's son will one day enter the doors of Hogwarts. He might even want to learn about her from someone who loved her."

Severus felt angry, bile rising in his throat. He could only hope the brat looked like his father. He didn't want the boy to have her hair, her eyes, her anything. He'd forever be Sisyphus, condemned to only to see the child that should have been his and Lily's—if he had he not said those words—if James Potter had not stolen her heart from him—if he had not spoken those damnable words.

Sunday, 9 January 1983

“Good morning,� Madam Pomfrey said cheerfully as she sat down beside Severus Snape at the high table.

He grunted noncommittally. Breakfast was his least favourite meal, as it heralded the start of another dreadful day of living in a castle with millions of noisy children.

Why would Albus Dumbledore keep him on as a teacher when he knew he loathed teaching students who didn’t have any real passion for the shimmering cauldron?

Ninety-nine percent of the wizarding world found Potions a boring discipline because it was subtle.

As a result, he resented having to try to teach the art to students who didn’t feel it was exciting magic. It made his blood boil, as he truly loved potion brewing. Brewing was an art form. In his opinion a finely brewed potion was the epitome of magic.

He’d put a lot of thought into it and had come to the conclusion that if he were to switch subjects, he wouldn’t bear the same frustration and madness that he did in teaching Potions classes. If he taught Defense, he could keep his true passion to himself, and he’d show those miserable herd beasts a thing or two about flashy magic. What he knew would make them run in terror.

Therefore, he’d requested an audience with the headmaster. Dumbledore had denied him the Defense position when it opened last summer. Severus thought the headmaster was naive if he thought he would give up so easily. Severus Snape was not a wizard to back down from a fight. After breakfast, he made his way up to the headmaster’s study.

“No, I don’t think it would be appropriate at this time. Finding a new Potions master is much more difficult than you’d think. A Defense professor is much easier to find, but then you know that, having had seven different ones while you were a student.�

“None of them were any good!� Severus snarled. He wrapped his arms tightly across his chest while one boot tapped the floor impatiently. “I know the subject better...�

“I said no. I won’t give you that position until it becomes absolutely necessary,� the old wizard said emphatically, putting an end to the subject.

Snape sat frustrated and confused in the overstuffed chair in the headmaster’s office. Dumbledore’s reasoning didn’t sit quite right with him; there was definitely something the old wizard wasn’t willing to share.

Fine, Severus thought bitterly. He could change tactics; his life had once depended on it. He would try for something else instead.

“I want only students who achieve an ‘O’ in my NEWT level classes from now on.�

Albus Dumbledore’s blue twinkling eyes studied him for a moment. “That's much too selective; not many students achieve an ‘O’ in Potions, Severus.�

“My point exactly, Headmaster. I’m wasting my time on a lot of cretins whose only purpose in taking the class is to try to impress some Ministry lackey with the number of NEWTs they achieved,� Severus replied, argument in his tone.

“The number would be too few to justify...�

“Which is the very reason I need to change the curriculum,� he interrupted forcefully. “It does not present a proper challenge to the students and illustrates no progression in complexity. It may have suited Professor Slughorn, but it does not suit me!�

Dumbledore sat back in his chair and popped a humbug into his mouth. He rolled it around for a while as he thought.

Delaying tactic! Snape’s mind screamed out.

“Very well, I will consider the matter. Come up with a plan for me to look over...�

Severus pulled a rolled up scroll from one voluminous sleeve and flung it onto the desk.

Professor Dumbledore waved the scroll across the ornately carved desk, into his beringed hands, and unfurled the parchment. Adjusting his half-moon spectacles, he began to read. Obviously the wizard hadn’t expected Severus to have a plan ready to present to him.

Maybe the all-seeing, all-knowing wizard wasn’t quite so all-seeing after all. Severus kept his feelings, burgeoning to escape, free from his face. As he waited, Dumbledore’s hand absently reached for a sherbet lemon. Both eyebrows rose as he at first scanned and then thoroughly read the four-foot scroll.

“Don’t you think you’re a bit ambitious with this curriculum? Some of what you’re proposing to teach would be well beyond the ability of what the upper forms currently know. You are making it too difficult for them to meet your standards, Severus,� the headmaster said, shaking his head.

“I would like to initiate this program with the first and second years; the older students who began under Professor Slughorn will never meet my expectations,� Severus responded in what he hoped was a conciliatory tone.

Albus Dumbledore looked genuinely astonished at Severus’ dismissal of his old Potions master. “You did quite well with a program that has been...�

“Because I was interested in the subject and did a lot of research on my own,� Severus interrupted impassionedly.

“Lily had...�

“Why must you bring her into this?� the Potions master exploded. He paced the room like a caged animal, his robes snapping as sharply as sheets drying on a line as he moved.

“Only to say she had remarkable talent, Severus. She was very, very good with potions, yet, under your plan, Li—she would not be permitted into your class,� Dumbledore said, appeasing the agitated man.

Snape continued to pace restlessly. “I don’t think teaching Slytherins and Gryffindors together is prudent. It's far too disruptive for me to keep them from one another's throats while I try to pound a lesson into their heads at the same time."

Sighing deeply, the headmaster leaned forward in his chair. “I've told you that historically Hufflepuffs don't do well when they are put with Gryffindors in Potions lessons; Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff is the better mix."

"So I have to suffer because of it?" Severus stopped abruptly; his robes swirled about his legs.

“Severus, Severus, why are you so touchy today?"

“Because you never listen to me. You always dismiss my concerns as irrelevant," the Potions Master said as he rushed to the door and flung it open.

He was halfway down when he heard Professor Dumbledore call. “Happy birthday!�

Monday 9 January 1984

Severus Snape was late for breakfast because of an owl from the parents of one of his first year charges. He walked quickly into the Great Hall, his black robes billowing behind him.

Albus Dumbledore was tucking into a bowl of corn flakes; white grains of sugar were falling from his spoon onto his long white beard.

Minerva McGonagall was drinking a steaming cup of what he assumed was tea. He’d learned last winter, when he’d accidently picked up the wrong cup, that the witch drank hot toddies in the colder months. He’d been slightly shocked at his discovery. She’d always seemed too much a prude to drink—much less at breakfast.

The witch acknowledged him with a crisp nod of the head.

The Potions master looked out over his Slytherins before filling a bowl with oatmeal. He had a twinge behind his eyes.

Oh joy, a headache brewing.

He was relieved that Dumbledore hadn’t turned to speak with him during breakfast; it was a relief to eat in peace for once.

The bell rang to indicate the beginning of the school day. Students rushed past him in a cacophony of noise. A student barreled into him as he walked around a corner. The twinge became a full-blown headache.

“Five points from Ravenclaw for running into a teacher,� Severus snapped. He instantly regretted his too loud voice. This was definitely going to be a day that tested him. His first two classes were first year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, to be followed by seventh year Slytherins and Gryffindors.

The first years now had several months’ brewing experience. He’d had half a dozen cauldrons explode in this class over the past week. The young witches and wizards didn’t realize how often their professor had kept them from a major disaster. They needed a firm hand and hawk-eyed supervision, even if they mistook these for chastisement and unnecessary strictness. The need for his constant vigilance was getting old very fast.

The next class started with Snape’s headache causing him to feel nauseous. As the students lighted the fires under their cauldrons, the bright flare nearly caused him to wince. Only his self discipline and years of self-preservation kept him from dropping to his chair. He’d never suffered these excruciating headaches as a student.

Never let the bastards see that something is wrong.

With a wave of his wand, the Potions master put the instructions for the Amortentia potion the students would be attempting to brew on the blackboard. Another wave of his wand opened the supply cabinet.

“The ingredients are in the cupboard.�

How many times over the past two and a half years have I said that? he wondered wearily.

The class stared mutely at him.

“Well?� he asked sharply. “You only have two hours.�

The witches and wizards scrambled to the cupboard. Most of his pupils quickly returned to their places and spread their ingredients out, leaving his cupboard in a jumble. He wanted to hex them for their carelessness.

Snape was pleased that his Slytherins began to work immediately. He knew what to expect from his students by now—both the good and the bad. Some, like McNair's younger sister Cordelia, watched him closely—too closely. He wished he was free to use his Legilimency on them, because he was certain they were questioned by his former companions in the Death Eaters about just what he was doing at Hogwarts.

He watched two Gryffindor boys huddle together and whisper furtively. Instinct kicked in, and Snape’s keen ears caught the barely audible words, “Let’s keep some and slip it in Cornelia’s pumpkin juice at lunch.�

The boys glanced back at the buxom Gryffindor girl two tables behind them and laughed rudely.

Oh, I don't think so, the Potions master thought.

Snape periodically prowled the classroom and corrected some students, but did not place particular attention on the two boys. In his opinion, those two illustrated everything that was wrong with Gryffindors. They consistently challenged him in class, caused enmity between Houses, and bitterly complained about “the bat of the dungeons� to anyone who would listen.

He noticed the beguiling scent of lilies rise from Brown and Gimbel's cauldron—her scent, Lily's scent, rose from four of the cauldrons in his classroom. The odor pulled at his broken heart.

“You have five minutes to bottle your potion and clean up,� he said in a bored drawl.

Each of his students bottled a vial and took it to his desk. Snape watched as the students emptied their cauldrons and cleaned their work areas. All, that was, but Brown and Gimbel; they waited until Snape’s view was blocked. With untoward speed, Brown ladled some of their remaining potion into a small bottle and slipped the container into Gimbel’s robes. Nigel Brown had taken a second vial from his pocket when their professor pounced.

“Brown and Gimbel, turn out your pockets,� Snape hissed.

They hadn’t reckoned with a man whose survival had depended on not missing clues, no matter how subtle. The entire class heard the Potions master’s tone and fell silent. They turned as one to stare at Brown and Gimbel. Startled, the two students tried to look innocent.

“S-sir?� Gimbel asked, gulping deeply.

“Turn...out...your...pockets,� Snape ordered quietly. His head felt like it would explode from the pain at any moment.

“You can’t ask us to do that,� Brown argued.

The remainder of the class stood mutely; none of them wanted to have Snape’s ire, much less his tongue, fall on them.

“You will turn out your pockets or face the consequences,� he said, more calmly than he felt. Arrogant little bastards. “Perhaps you like the idea of spending the remainder of your final year in detention? Keep up this attitude, and that is what the two of you are getting.�

“Professor Dumble—� Brown began, only to be interrupted by his teacher.

“Why don’t the three of us visit the headmaster’s office?� he suggested dangerously.

Brown’s face turned a livid red, while Gimbel paled considerably—he was easily led astray by his friend.

“Nigel, just turn out your pockets,� one of the other Gryffindors cried out.

“Silence!� the Potions master snapped menacingly. One oily strand of hair caught on his hooked nose.

Gryffindor as well as Slytherin students all froze upon hearing Snape’s deathly quiet voice.

Nigel stormed to the classroom door and flung it open with an echoing bang. A terrified Gimbel meekly left the room ahead of his professor.

As the trio neared Dumbledore’s office, Professor McGonagall stepped off the moving stairway. Snape could see by the expression on her face that she was surprised to see two members of Gryffindor being lead by the head of Slytherin.

“Professor Snape, is there a problem?� she asked, casting a disgruntled glance at Brown and Gimbel.

“These two have flaunted the rules and hidden vials of the Amortentia potion in their robe pockets. They are well aware of the rules concerning the removal of potions without permission. They were going to place it in another student’s pumpkin juice at lunch. Furthermore, they have refused to turn out their pockets.�

“Is this true?� the witch demanded of the two teenagers.

Gimbel meekly handed the illicit vial to Professor McGonagall. He squirmed nervously while Brown wore a steely countenance of defiance and strong dislike for his Potions professor. Severus didn’t give a rat’s spleen if they liked him or not. Their opinion of him did not matter in the least.

“Anyone who thinks they can slip a bit of the Amortentia potion into the glass of a classmate will find themselves in detention for the remainder of the time they have at Hogwarts,� Snape said with a dangerously quiet voice. Severus found a perverse pleasure in the fact that that Gimbel was close to wetting his robes.

McGonagall’s eyes flashed angrily. “What have you two to say for yourselves?�

“We didn’t think,� Gimbel said meekly, “taking one tiny vial would be a problem.�

“You didn’t think it would be a problem? I am ashamed that two Gryffindors would act so irresponsibly.�

With a snarl Snape said, “Don’t you think such irresponsibly requires detention every day for the remainder of the year?�

“We’ll miss Quidditch practice!� Gimbel appealed to their Head of House.

“The next game is against Slytherin!� Brown added as his cockiness collapsed like a deflating balloon.

“You’ll be missing the game! You should have thought of that when you decided to take a potion out of the dungeons,� Snape said viciously.

“The two of you will be disappointing the remainder of Gryffindor because of your reckless actions,� Professor McGonagall said tersely. "Professor Snape warned you about removing potions from his classroom, and you will pay the price for your folly!"

The two teenagers glanced resentfully at the Potions master.

“Shouldn’t you two be in Charms? Away with you,� his fellow Head of House said as she shooed them away.

The two professors watched the two young wizards turn the corner.

“Don’t look so smug, Severus. It’s only because it’s your birthday that I’m agreeing that they should have detention—but five months is too much,� she said, tilting her head to look up at Snape.

She opened the vial and smelled. "Oh, whisky!"

Snape frowned as the delicate fragrance of stargazer lilies overwhelmed him again.

His throat was thick when he said, “I’ll not accept less than two months, ma’am.�

"Done," the Transfigurations professor agreed. Minerva gave him a thin smile. “You’re my colleague, Severus. It really is about time for you to call me Minerva.�

The Potions master walked back to the dungeons with a feeling he couldn’t place. A grain of pleasure had managed to burrow its way through the thick tar that coated his heart.

As always, my gratitude to Cecelle. She never fails but to make me look better in print.



Wednesday: 9 January 1985

“Stop by for tea,� Dumbledore had said.

It was pointless to refuse the invitation—an order really. He agreed to stop in for a minute or two in an attempt to forestall one of Albus’ lavish cakes at supper.

‘I’ll be lucky to get away with less than an hour or two,’ Snape muttered to himself after the old wizard broke the connection.

At three Severus made his way to the Headmaster’s office. He felt as if he was being dragged through the corridors by some invisible force, while his fingers tried to find purchase on the stone walls, as he screamed at the top of his lungs: ‘Noooo, I don’t want to go!’

He knew what was waiting for him when he arrived at the aerie: a great many very sugary cakes, biscuits, and pastries. He wasn’t singled out for this treatment; every staff member had to endure the insanity.

The Potions master honestly thought Dumbledore purposely arranged multiple meetings during the week, just so he could have an excuse to order heaping platters of sweets. After every meeting, Snape went away with a headache from the sugar foisted off on him.

The aggravation built as he went at a snail’s pace; he hoped to come across someone doing something wrong, so he’d have an excuse to not ride the steps up to the Headmaster’s office.

Damn, I should have gone by way of Hagrid’s hut. Some student is always straying over there. It would have been worth the walk. He’d purposely travelled a long and not quite circuitous enough of a path.

He soon found that he was standing before the statue, the gateway to Dumbledore’s suite.

“You could do me a favour and refuse to admit me,� he said sourly to the griffin. It swiftly swung aside in a gliding motion.

“I didn’t think you would,� he muttered, and stepped onto the step. The old stone stairway spiralled upward. “I didn’t think Hell was up.�

The old wood door, battered and scarred from a thousand years of use, swung open, and revealed a room crowded with the rest of the staff, all wearing hideous paper party hats
.
“Surprise!� the chorus called out. Confetti rained down on the Potions master’s black hair. Albus pushed a hat onto his head and said, “Happy Birthday, Severus!�

He was definitely in Hell.



Thursday 9 January 1986

It was his birthday, and Severus Snape finally reached the point where he’d either pull out all his greasy hair or blast the dungeons into rubble. The final nail in the coffin was a new infestation of pests in his potions stores. He’d spent the past several years attempting to do battle with this recurring bother.

Severus had finished giving final instructions for the potion his first year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs would be attempting. He felt quite confident they would be able to deal with a simple Boil Cure Potion with a minimal amount of attention. When he’d sent the group to his cupboards to collect the necessary ingredients, he picked up a stack of scrolls to grade.

Loud shrieks of fright followed by the rapidly approaching scrabble of feet alerted him that something unusual was occurring. The students rarely came closer to him than they needed to, except to turn in their assignments—even his own Slytherins kept a respectable distance.

“Silence!�

With his wand out, he pushed past the crush of prepubescent children and approached the cupboard with caution.

“No,� wailed one of the timorous Hufflepuff girls. “Don’t open it!�

With a snap of his wand, the door opened. Little hairy black things swarmed out into the room.

A renewed chorus of shrieks drilled into Severus’ ears like an ice pick.

“Doxies!� he hissed through clenched teeth. The boxes of porcupine quills, dandelion puffs, raven feathers, dragon scales, and smothering moss were shredded masses of drool.

Damn, and damn again!

The doxies quickly spotted a new food source—the students’ uniforms. The children swung at the pests with anything they could reach, including the scrolls on their professor’s desk.

“Coughlin,� Snape snapped at one of the Ravenclaw boys, “you are to find Mr. Filch and inform him there is an infestation he needs to deal with. When you’ve done that, you and the remainder of this class will write two scrolls—due next lesson—about the damage vermin can cause to potion ingredients.�

“Yes, Professor Snape,� Coughlin said and ran for the door.

“Not yet, you fool! I have to immobilize the doxies before you open the door, or they will infest the entire school!� With the slash of his wand, the doxies fell heavily to the stone floor.

“Out,� the Potions master ordered.

The students were remarkably quick in exiting their dungeon classroom.

Severus moved as a force of nature into the upper regions of Hogwarts. Barely restraining the urge to run up the moving stairs, Snape felt no such restraint with the door.
“I’m leaving,� he stated abruptly, turned on his heel, and sped back down the moving staircase. He did not know, or care, if Dumbledore objected to this unexplained behaviour.

Without stopping to gather his outer robes, Severus Snape trekked through the snow to the tall entry gates. Once outside of the protective wards, he Disapparated into a void of nothingness. Three heartbeats later, the Potions master appeared in front of The Leaky Cauldron.

A stiff Ogden’s won’t do me any harm, he thought petulantly. In fact, I deserve it.

A few wizards looked at him oddly. Catching his reflection in a window, Snape realized his hair stood out from his head where he’d pulled at it in his anger. Casually, he patted it into place. The drink was nursed for a good fifteen minutes while he thought about what else he could do to fend off both magical and conventional pests in his stores.
He realized that over countless years, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry must have lost countless—more than countless!—amounts of Galleons in potions ingredients to the vermin.

Slughorn should have been doing more to lay down a line of defence, Snape thought. Except he was too busy climbing the social ladder of the wizarding world.
Replacing the cup on the bar, Severus Snape left the Leaky Cauldron and wandered down Diagon Alley.

A crush of ginger-haired children ran about their harassed looking mother. He recognized Molly Weasley.

“Fred, George, if you touch one more...� the witch threatened as she drove them down the street.

“Minerva wasn’t joking. There are... one, two, three, and four more of them! I might just slit my wrists,� he muttered quietly to himself, as he watched them disappear into the crowd.

Severus looked more closely at what the boys had been touching—an owl. He was across from the Magical Menagerie.

He crossed and stood to study the various creatures that hung in cages along the storefront. There were owls of all varieties, ravens, and hawks making all sorts of noise.

Probably relieved that those brats are gone.

An owl, though it could see in very dim light, wasn’t quite right for the narrow confines of the dungeons, Snape concluded and entered the shop doors. He gave the place a cursory look.

A case of poisonous orange snails rested on the counter, next to an irritated looking cat. He closely inspected the snails.

Perhaps.

The cat jumped off the counter and wound its body around his legs. He gently pushed it aside and walked over to a terrarium of toads.

No. Definitely no.

Snape moved over to a large case of black rats. They were playing some sort of game.

Definitely no. I don’t need to add to the problem. Perhaps a good snake will deal with the rodent problem.

The cat leapt onto his shoulder and pushed its large flat face into his.

Yellow fur all over my robes!

Severus reached up to remove the creature. Two immense golden globes looked directly into his molten eyes.

Snape froze. This was no ordinary housecat; this was a kneazle. The kneazle rubbed its head against his large hooked nose and purred a loud, rumbling purr. Its claws were needle sharp and drew small rivulets of blood from the Potions master’s cheek.

“It’s not bonded with nobody in a month of Sundays,� the purse-faced clerk said and reached to relieve his potential customer of the pesky animal.

It hissed and batted with extended claws at the wizard’s hand. “That kneazle barely allows us near to feed it.�

“Clearly you know who you want,� Snape said to the kneazle before turning back to the clerk. “How much?�

Nursing a clawed hand, the man replied, “I’d ask fifty Galleons, but you might not take her off my hands. Twenty—I’ll take twenty to be rid of her.�

“Done!�

“You’ll want a cage to carry her in.� The clerk turned toward a display of wicker carriers.

The kneazle purred and wrapped her tail around Severus’ neck. Clearly she didn’t think she needed to be in a small prison.

An hour later, after returning to Hogwarts, the Potions master named his new kneazle Diana. Named after the Goddess of the Hunt, she’d hopefully be as efficient as her namesake. Severus made a little bed for her close to the door of his personal rooms, but she had her own mind. She promptly trotted into his bedroom and leapt lightly onto his bed. He couldn’t but admire her single-mindedness.

Riding his shoulder, Diana was shown one of the areas Snape wanted her to patrol for vermin. More quickly than he’d hoped, Diana sped underneath a low piece of furniture. Snape heard a tussle and squeals—then nothing. The kneazle reappeared with a Strapstack in her mouth. She placed it at her master’s black-booted feet and was off again. An hour later, a two foot pile of Strapstacks was placed in a rubbish bin and magically disposed of.

Diana was off again; she’d found yet another infestation of doxies. Snape immediately fire-called Mr. Filch to come and remove them.

In the Slytherin common room, the kneazle zoomed in on a nest of mice. Some of Snape’s students stood gap-mouthed as the sturdy Diana dispatched ten mice before their eyes.

The Potions master returned to his classroom to grade scrolls. Tawny Diana sat on the corner of his desk, her short, stubby tail flicking minutely at the tip. There was a knock on the closed door.

“Enter,� Snape said.

Minerva McGonagall entered and stopped in her tracks. Tilting her head, she looked over the tops of her square eyeglasses.

“Is that a kneazle?� the witch asked slowly. The Scottish lilt was strong in her words.

“Yes,� Severus replied evenly.

“She wasn’t here before,� the Transfiguration professor stated.

The kneazle knew she was the centre of the conversation. She rubbed her cheek against the great hooked nose affectionately before turning to stare back at the witch.

“Certainly you didn’t come to admire Diana? Did you want something, Minerva?� Severus asked as the long fingers of his hand played with the kneazle’s tail.

“I came to ask if you’d support my choice for Head Boy next year. He has the marks and is well like by the other students,� the witch said as she ticked points on her fingers. “Well, by most of the students, that is. Johnson has received good comments from his teachers—including you, Severus.�

“If I agree to support you, what will you do for me in return?� he asked slowly.

“What is it you want?� she answered, her tone suspicious.

“You could try to keep the Headmaster from presenting me with one of his hideous birthday cakes today.�

Minerva McGonagall perched lightly on the corner of the desk. “You couldn’t just ask me to move Hogwarts somewhere warmer, could you? Or for Ravenclaw’s goalkeeper to suddenly become spatially confused in the next Quidditch match against Slytherin?�

“You’ve been known to accomplish the near impossible,� Severus said smoothly.

The witch blushed deeply. “Don’t you try to charm...�

Professor McGonagall was interrupted mid-sentence by a crash of cymbals and horns, and confetti that rained down in streams. A four foot cake, iced in Slytherin’s colours, floated serenely into the room.

Diana leaped onto the Potions master’s shoulder. A growl sounded deep in her throat.

“Save yourself!� Severus Snape whispered into one of the kneazle’s ears.

“Happy birthday!� the Headmaster cried out joyfully.

Severus found himself wearing a party hat. As did Diana. He tried to remove the hats only to find them firmly fixed to both their heads.

“Albus!� the Transfiguration professor said firmly. “Remove that kneazle’s hat; it isn’t dignified!�

“And it’s dignified to make me wear one?� the young professor protested snidely.

“Just cut the cake, or he’ll have you wearing that hat until tomorrow morning,� the witch advised from the corner of her mouth.

Defeated, Severus reached for the knife that Minerva had Transfigured for him, and cut through the thick green and silver icing.

"The cake isn't nearly as vulgar as it was last year, Severus," the witch said quietly.

"Let's see if you can say the same when your birthday comes round," the Potions master replied with a smirk.

"You know full well my birthday is during the summer holidays." Professor McGonagall said nervously.

"I know full well your birthday is in October!"

"You wouldn't....!"

"Oh, but I would," Snape said with a chuckle.

"Severus Snape, you are Slytherin to the core!"

"And proud of it!"