Chapter 2 - A Terrible Accident

Instructing the Professor

Chapter 2 – A Terrible Accident

It sometimes happens that a man is handsomer in his manners at forty-one than he was at twenty; and generally speaking, if there has been neither death nor other entanglements, it is a time of life at which scarcely charm is lost. It was so with Severus, for he was still the unapproachable Professor Snape that he had been at twenty-two. Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall might be excused for thinking they and Severus as young as ever, amidst the wreck of the war on everybody else. Indeed, if not for the facts that Ron was dead, Harry was institutionalised at St Mungo's and Hermione was to be elected to a teaching chair, the school's two chief administrators would have almost believed that time had stood still for them.

Severus did not quite equal his two esteemed colleagues in personal contentment, nor was he completely devoid of guilt from the final battle as Dumbledore had supposed. For nigh twenty years, he had been Potions Master at Hogwarts, presiding and directing his lessons with a self-possession and decision which could never have given the idea of him being more civil than he was. For nigh twenty years, he had been doing the honours and laying down the domestic law in his dungeons and leading his dunderheads down the path to a thorough education. Nearly twenty years' revolving autumns had seen him opening his scintillating lessons with his famous first year speech; and almost twenty winters had passed in which he played the role of Dumbledore's spy in Voldemort's court. He had the remembrances of all these events, and he had the consciousness of being no nearer to the Defence of the Dark Arts chair, to give him some regrets and even more apprehensions. He was still fully satisfied of being quite 'fearsome' in reputation as ever, but he felt his approach to the years of lonely danger. While he did not conceal his antipathy towards Harry Potter, he did not strive to conceal his innate sense of justice. It was true that he had a foul unreasonable temper that he neither denies nor hid. Unbeknownst to many, he was not naturally vicious. It could be acknowledged that he possessed an unsociable taciturn disposition, but those who claimed intimate acquaintance with him knew that he had no improper pride.

He was a haunted thinker – a visionary philosopher in the educational field and a steady logician. These three traits culminated in his sense of justice which sought to work towards the cultivation of a quiet impartiality. Accordingly, Dumbledore and Minerva, who looked on him as a son, believed that Severus was sensible and just, original and inventive as well as unobtrusively affectionate. His cold reserve and general unapproachable demeanour, however, meant that these traits remained securely locked within his soul. Truth be told, he did feel a pang of guilt at Ron's passing. He did not believe in the slaying of innocents, even if the innocent in question had volunteered to be the sacrificial lamb. No, it was inevitable. "It was a war for crying out loud," Severus scolded his brain in a bid to silence the insistent gnawing guilt. Ron had agreed to the scheme with that idealism he lacked. It was a war of all against all – sacrifices had to be made – there was nothing else to be done. Ron could be held a culpable instigator of the scheme and Harry had been selfish enough not to see how a single sacrifice could turn the tide of the war.

"Damn Potter and his impudence!" Severus cursed quietly, finishing his sixth glass of firewhisky. "Not only was he unable to see that it was not all about him, he was unwilling to acknowledge that others, such as Weasley, had true courage. Stupid boy! To think that he was the target of a mad man's quest for power! Was he so blinded by his own self-importance that he failed to see his friends for what they truly are?"

Despite Severus's conviction in his plan, he felt a certain unease knowing that Potter lay unhinged at St Mungo's. There must be something that could be done to help the boy! But the St Mungo healers assured him that this was almost impossible. Severus looked at his hands as if disgusted by them. They were stained with Weasley's blood. He had been the instrument of the boy's demise, he had instigated his death – he had all but sent the boy to die for the greater good! He sneered at himself, raising his glass of firewhisky, "Where's your much vaunted sense of justice now?"

The gnawing feeling of guilt further intensified when the burning liquid trickled down his throat. "Damn Miss Granger!" he spat, throwing his empty glass into the cold fireplace. "Does she think she is my moral centre? Telling me that it was beyond my control! Bah!" He paused, pondering as to how Hermione Granger could have penetrated his veneer. Did not he project himself to be calm, aloof and masterful? How could she discern the inner torment he felt? He laughed bitterly at himself. Here was a woman whose perspicacity superseded his and he admired her for it. "Confound her!" he snarled, clenching his fists. Ridiculous! Weekly tea sessions for the past six months and he admired her ways! "Stupid!" he muttered crossly, curling his lips contemptuously at himself. He had lately been having very odd dreams of his student years at Hogwarts, but they were nothing compared to her audacity. She had imposed herself on his company a day after the end of the war. She merely swept into his potions office with an almost regal command and ordered tea from the house elves. She had apologised for Harry's outburst and had been so indifferent to his insults that he found himself unable to do aught but to allow her to arrive the next week, and the next, so much so that it became an unspoken arrangement between them.

He checked his clock and saw that it was time to present himself at the Great Hall for the dinner which opened the new school year. As he strode there, scowling at the whispering gossipy portraits, his thoughts flew to Hermione. Among the members of the Trio, she was the most sensible and under-appreciated. Harry was always interrupting her reservations with shouts of protests and Ron would always stare vacuously at her. The two boys evidently did not share her ability of judging correctly. Hermione was indeed a wise judge of people and situations and she always placed the right interpretation on everything she heard. Unlike Harry, she weighed both sides of any circumstance before jumping to any conclusion. Wrapped in these thoughts on her merits, Severus found that he had entered the Great Hall just as the sorting ceremony was about to commence. The older students cowered as he strode purposefully to the High Table. He gave Hermione a look of studied disinterest as he took his seat beside her; she gave him an unconcerned glance in return. How odd it was that she should dress in grey; she reminded him of someone he had half a recollection of. However, the fleeting thought left him as soon as the sorting commenced.

He inwardly growled as Hermione surreptitiously read a book under the table. Catching her occasional looks of disinterested benevolence at the student body, he acknowledged that he would have been almost diverted if he were not otherwise preoccupied with guessing the title of her book. He was struck by her appearance that evening and had an odd sense of déjà vu. He scolded himself and rationalised it as his subconscious recollections of the years she sat at the Gryffindor table with her friends. He looked at her and suppressed a smirk. Even though she now wore her hair in a tight bun, he knew she still possessed the same untameable bushy hair. He could see that a lock was clearly loose and was valiantly struggling to be free; he was momentarily tempted to assist it but changed his mind. Examining her more closely he felt the bun improved her countenance, matching her mind with a proper serious look. The more he looked on her, the more he felt as if he had some prior claim of acquaintance with her.

"Naturally," agreed his mind, "You've seen her for almost ten years. Vector's always pushing her to you when she's out with her latest beau. You've been having tea with her so often it must have clouded your temporal judgement." He nodded with satisfaction. "Ah," chided his left brain to his right, "But even as an eleven year old, you were struck by how familiar she appeared to you." As the two halves of his brain vacillated between logical explanations as to his current interest in Hermione and the gnawing sensation of déjà vu, the sorting came to a timely end. Before he could ask her an inconsequential question, Albus Dumbledore got to his feet and beamed at the students with wide open arms. "How quickly he recovers himself at moments of utter desolation; he is a better actor than I am," mused Severus.

As if sensing his ex-student's thought, the Headmaster turned to him with a nod. "Welcome," Dumbledore began, his voice booming throughout the Great Hall. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words." Some groans were audible from the older students. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled impishly as he wagged a long finger at the student body. "Just some basic housekeeping matters," he chuckled. "First years should note that the forest in the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well. Mr Filch wishes me to remind you that there is to be no magic usage between classes in the corridors. He informs me that this is the three hundredth and seventh time he is reminding you. This year, we are pleased to have Professor Lupin as the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Those of you with older siblings may be aware of the fracas that emerged some years ago as to Professor Lupin's suitability as a teacher given his health. You will be glad to know that due to the efforts of Professor Snape, the ailment no longer plagues him." Dumbledore gestured to Severus while winking at Remus under his half moon glasses. Severus scowled his response, bowing curtly as Remus grinned shamelessly at him.

"Thanks to Professor Snape," continued the Headmaster, "Professor Lupin is no longer a werewolf." Rapturous applause broke out in the Great Hall and soon reached a crescendo, which was only silenced when Dumbledore held out his hand with an indulgent smile. "Let me get through my news – please. I am as peckish as you are," he half pleaded in a jest, much to Minerva McGonagall's stern disapproval and the students' delight. "Professor Vector has decided to retire this year and as such, you will have Professor Granger as your new Arithmancy Mistress. She is the youngest Professor we've ever had, mind you, only twenty-one. Be kind to her, eh?" He winked at Hermione before looking seriously at the student populace. "Now that we're done, let us feast."

Severus ignored the noises around him as he automatically picked at the food Hermione had placed on his plate. She met his blank look with a studied glare. She looked as if she belonged at the High Table; it was as if he had seen her there before from another perspective. She had a look about her that highlighted her archness, kindness and severity. He stared almost insolently at her as he drank from his chalice. The lights from the candles threw a certain golden hue over her brown hair. She looked acutely familiar in that light. As he flicked his greasy hair from his face, he was struck how much Hermione resembled someone he once knew but was unable to place. She playfully pushed his hand away from the book that she had placed at the table. Baring his teeth in mock annoyance, he deftly grabbed the book and was about to read its title when a commotion broke out at the Ravenclaw table.

A pretty fifth year Ravenclaw prefect, Miss Butler, was struggling to free herself from the unwarranted attentions from two boys. In the scuffle that ensued, both Severus and Hermione rose to contain the matter. One of the boys tripped Miss Butler and a shiny silvery hourglass flung itself off her little neck. The girl tried to catch it but failed. Fully aware of the bureaucratic problems that might arise if it was shattered, Hermione leapt forward, diving onto the ground to grab it. Severus, on his part, reprimanded the two boys for their refractory behaviour. As Hermione skidded towards the rapidly spinning time turner, all the inhabitants gasped in dismay. Not only was she unable to save the time turner from destruction, she was also unable to decelerate; and as the delicate hourglass shattered, she came into contact with its contents and disappeared completely before everyone's eyes.