InsaneJournal

“You! You’re that teacher what used to be a Death Eater. I have to tell you, I’m not going to stand for this outrage!”

“Mr. Greene,” Professor Snape said in what he hoped was a calming manner, though his nerves were being stretched pretty thin.

“Shut up! I’m not done with you yet! I won’t stand idly by while some murderer walks scot-free in our schools—”

He hoped to Helga Hufflepuff that this whole Death Eater accusation thing would become easier to deal with. He’d almost rather they be complaining about the fact he was never fit to be a teacher.

“Well Professor Snape, this really isn’t how Professor Slughorn did it last year.”

“I understand, and I sympathize. But I am a new teacher, and your daughter is just going to have to get used to that.”

“We are very famous. Do you not recognize who I am?”

“Of course I know who you are!” he said, sounding a bit impatient. “I just do not become swayed by the prospect of fame. I, unlike the man who was my own teacher, do not accept bribes.

“How dare you!”

“How dare I? How dare you.”

The woman was so furious, she looked to have turned red even from within the fire. “I am sending her to Beauxbatons.”

“I hear the weather is nice in France this time of year.”

She made a furious noise and ended the Floo call so forcefully it put his fire out entirely. He immediately went to the library to try and see if he couldn’t find out who that mad woman was after all.

“Mrs. Weasley. You are obviously a wonderful mother. I’m not saying you are not. And you have three boys who proved to be right for the class. But, your boys, George and Fred . . . .”

“Yes, what about them?”

“They . . . do not have the safety of the rest of the students in mind.”

“What’s wrong? What have they done?” she asked him.

“I am getting to that,” he said, looking grim. “They think it is fun to experiment with the ingredients. Mrs. Weasley?” She had turned to look over her shoulder.

“Oh not again, Ron!” she said, sounding at wit’s end. “Sorry, but I’ve got to go!” she said, sounding frantic.

He cringed outwardly. And to think. There were more of them coming.

“I knew he was nothing like his father. I’m sorry, Professor, sir.”

“Well, it is quite obvious that he is not like him, unless his father was completely hopeless with a cauldron.”

“Cauldrons, yes! Would you like some sort of reimbursement?” She reached into her odd red handbag.

“No, that is unnecessary. As I have told you, the school supplies the cost of the stores and cauldrons.”

“Are you sure?”

“Quite sure,” Snape said. “I just thought you should be aware of the kind of incidents that are occurring.

“ And what’s the next step? Remedial Potions? Extra lessons? This isn’t going to cost, is it?”

He shook his head almost immediately. “No, no tutoring will be necessary.” He had quite enough of Longbottom, thank you. “You . . . may go. Thank you for your time, madam.”

“Well if you’re sure? Alright.”

He sighed as she left the fire. No, more of Longbottom was definitely not a good thing.

“Well if it isn’t my good friend. How have you been holding up, Snape?”

“Oh fine, just fine.”

“Narcissa and I have been faring wonderfully. So what were you here to talk about?” he moved so that Snape might come in.

Professor Snape hesitated. “Why, your boy’s natural talent, of course.” He winced inwardly. He had been about to tell them just what a little ponce their son had turned out to be when he had noticed a rather grotesquely dark painting on the wall behind his “old friend.” “Yes, thank you, Narcissa,” he said, “I would love some tea.”

“I was wondering if you could talk to her,” Snape said, looking as if he felt terribly awkward talking about this.

“What about?” asked Mr. Cho.

“She . . . will not stop crying in the middle of my class. These outbursts are very troublesome.”

“She’ll get over it,” said Mrs. Cho from the background. “

“But, I do not think you understand—,” he started, only to be cut off by the ending of the Floo call. What a lovely couple.

“It’s a pleasure to have this chat with you,” said the odd man, shaking his hand.

“It is not every day I get a visit from a parent in person.”

“Well, really, I’m also here on business. I just had to ask you about a couple of the ingredients you have here. Let’s go into your personal stores, shall we?”

Snape resisted the urge to slam his fist into the desk. He should have realized something was awry when a parent asked to have a talk about such a well-mannered child. He hated his job. Perhaps Voldemort would accidentally off himself and then he might be free once and for all.

Unlikely, he thought with a heavy sigh.

“So you do not deny having been in league with the Death Eaters?”

“What?! We are all in league with the Death Eaters. Have you not been paying attention the last couple months as to what has been happening?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the Death Eaters have taken over the Ministry . . .”

“Yeah,” she said with a nod.

“. . . and The Daily Prophet . . .”

“Yeah.”

“. . . and Azkaban . . .”

“Got that one, definitely.”

“. . . and now Hogwarts.”

She sighed. “Some people are just never satisfied. Greedy lot, eh?”

“Of course we are greedy. We . . . we are the Death Eaters!” he hissed in a whisper, even though it was no secret. “We work for You-Know-Who. We do unspeakable things in his name. We treat greed as a virtue.”

“Hmm,” she said, looking thoughtful. “I’m going to take my son from this school.”

“Take him!” said Snape. By God, if he was going to be anything like his mother, who wanted him anyway?