Harry threw himself down on his bed with a happy sigh. As much fun as he’d had with Ron and the Weasleys, not to mention Padfoot and Moony, he was still very happy to be back at Hogwarts, in his own bedroom, with his da puttering away in his potions lab. He could tell that his da was very happy to be home too, though he was pretty sure he’d had a good time in Switzerland with Brunhilde. His da had gone out with her several more times after Sirius had first introduced them, and Harry had even tagged along once or twice. He liked Brunhilde – she didn’t treat him like a kid; she took his questions seriously, and she also didn’t seem interested in keeping his da all to herself. And he could tell that his da liked talking with her – and looking at her, though Harry had learned better than to point that out!

Still, Brunhilde had made it clear that she was very busy with her work in Basel, and she had a 9 year old godson there, Jonah, whom she obviously adored. She had suggested that maybe Harry and his da might like to visit her and Jonah sometime, and Harry was looking forward to it – that was perhaps the one thing he had missed while visiting Padfoot and Moony: having other kids to play with. Unfortunately, Jonah and his family were off visiting the dragons in Romania over the holidays, or Brunhilde promised he would have floo’d over. Still, it was nice to think that Harry might have a built-in playmate next time he visited his godfather… Not that Sirius didn’t qualify as an oversized playmate himself!

While Harry knew his da liked Brunhilde, Harry didn’t think Snape really minded that she was so obviously busy with her own life and not interested – at least right now – in spending lots of time together. He knew Snape had a lot to do too, what with his teaching and his House and thinking up ways to defeat Voldesnort. Harry relaxed on his bed, staring up at the canopy and wondering if the new term would be as exciting as the last.

“Oooooooh, Master Harry Potter Sir!” A pop by his right ear made him start, and he jerked up to see an unfamiliar house elf standing by his bed and wringing his hands.

Harry looked at the elf curiously. He didn’t think he’d met this one before, and it looked distinctly different from the average Hogwarts house elf. To start with, it was dressed in a ragged towel, and it was scrawny to the point of emaciation. “Er, hello?” he offered uncertainly.

“Master Harry Potter Sir said hello!” it squeaked in rapture, then instantly banged its head on the ground, badly startling Harry.

“Oi! Don’t do that!” Harry yelped, hopping out of bed and trying to restrain it. “Don’t hurt yourself!”

“Oh, Master Harry Potter Sir is a good master. Master Harry Potter Sir is kind and good, even to wicked, wicked house elves like Dobby.”

“Dobby? Is that your name?” Harry asked, hopelessly lost.

“Master Harry Potter Sir wants to know Dobby’s name!” The house elf’s eyes were shiny with tears. “Good Master Harry Potter Sir!”

“Erm, thanks, I guess. Um… can I help you?” Harry began to wish his guardian would appear in the doorway.

“No, no, Master Harry Potter Sir! It is Dobby who is here to help you. Master Harry Potter Sir must be leaving Hogwarts right away! Yes, Master Harry Potter Sir must not be staying here.”

“What? But I live here!” Harry protested.

“No no no! It is too dangerous! Bad things will happen soon and – No no no! Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!” The elf yanked at its own ears in a frenzy of self-loathing. “Mustn’t tell! Mustn’t tell secrets!”

“Dobby! Wait! Quit it! Stop!” Harry grabbed the frantic little thing. “Stop it! What danger? You mean for me?”

“Master Harry Potter Sir must leave Hogwarts! Master Harry Potter Sir must promise Dobby he will go away!”

Go away from Hogwarts? Like back to the Dursleys? Harry set his jaw. “I won’t,” he declared firmly. “I live here now, an’ I’m not leaving.”

Dobby gave him an anguished look. “But if Master Harry Potter Sir will not leave on his own, then Dobby will have to make him leave. No! No! Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby to threaten good, kind Master Harry Potter Sir!” And again the odd elf began to bang his head against the stone floor.

Now thoroughly unnerved, Harry ran for the door. He wasn’t sure if the elf meant him harm or was just completely doolally, but either way, he was pretty sure that his Da would have his hide if he didn’t seek help. To his relief, the elf was too busy punishing himself to try and prevent his escape.

“Da!” Harry dashed into the Potions lab, startling Snape and causing him to drop a vial of frog toes.

“Harry James Potter! What have I told you about running around like a bansh-“ Snape’s angry scolding abruptly halted as Harry darted around him as if for protection. Instantly his wand was in his hand and pointed at the door while his other held Harry close to his side.

“What is it?” he demanded tightly, when no obvious threat burst into the room in pursuit of the child.

“A house elf!” Harry exclaimed.

Snape fought not to bring his wand down across the brat’s backside. A house elf! The little monster ran in here as if the hounds of hell were after him, scaring him half to death, wasting valuable potions ingredients, all because one of the bloody house elves was being a bit too doting in its attention? “You –“ he started off furiously.

“No, no!” Harry shook his head, realizing the conclusion Snape had reached. “It’s not a normal house elf. This one was crazy! It kept banging its head on the ground like it hated talking to me and it wanted to send me back to the Dursleys and it threatened me!”

Snape blinked. A house elf threatening a wizarding child? That was practically unheard of. Spoiling the little beggars, yes. Threatening them? Hardly. “Are you sure it was a house elf?” he asked, once again raising his wand defensively.

“It looked like one an’ it sounded like one,” Harry said doubtfully, and despite his concern, Snape was pleased by this very Slytherin answer. Very good, my little snake, he thought. You are beginning to look behind the outward appearance that fools all the Gryffindors.

Snape led the way back to Harry’s bedroom, where nothing indicated that a house elf had ever been there. Snape cast several spells, but he was unable to find anything except evidence that a house elf had been in the room at some point – but since the school elves tidied his quarters, that was to be expected. He sat Harry down on the bed and turned a stern eye on the boy. “Was there really a strange house elf here?” he asked, frowning. “It wasn’t a dream, or maybe an imaginary elf from a game that you were playing?”

Harry gave him an outraged glare. “I’m not a baby!” he retorted indignantly. “I didn’t make this up for attention!”

“Hmmmmm,” Snape’s tone remained skeptical, but he didn’t press the issue. “Well, he’s gone now, so I wouldn’t worry about it.” He turned to go, then gestured impatiently to the boy. “Come along. You can clean up the frog toes you made me spill, and then I think some ingredient preparation will keep your mind off deranged house elves.”

Harry huffed as if greatly put upon, but since he didn’t really mind spending time with his guardian in the lab, he obediently followed the tall man, and the ensuing tasks quickly distracted him from the odd house elf’s visit.

Despite his outward calm, Snape was less dismissive of the event. A peculiarly acting house elf could hardly be good news. He determined to keep his eyes open for any unexplained phenomena in the new term.

“Da,” Harry spoke up unexpectedly as the two were busy grinding dried yew berries. “Are the Weasleys, y’know, normal?”

Snape bit back his instinctive, insulting response and glanced down at the boy. Where was this coming from? “What do you mean by ‘normal’?” he temporized

Harry frowned down at his mortar and pestle, as if he found the grinding very difficult. It had been really interesting to spend time with the Weasleys, though it had made him think a lot about the Dursleys and how different they were. Harry didn’t think it was just the difference between Muggle and Wizarding families either. Padfoot and Moony were great fun, but time with them was more like time with friends. The only rules really came from his da, and Harry rather suspected that Padfoot would have been all too willing to break a few if Moony hadn’t given him a Look every time he started to hint at it.

But the Weasleys had been a real family, with rules and punishments and presents and stuff, and it had indelibly brought home to Harry that not all families behaved as the Dursleys did. While Snape had told him over and over that his relatives were repulsive creatures, Harry hadn’t really understood just how differently his upbringing had been from Ron’s until he spent the holidays with the Weasleys.

“Harry?” Snape prompted, a frown appearing at the boy’s silence.

“Erm, Auntie Molly told you that we sorta got into trouble, yeah?” Harry asked, appearing to change the subject.

“If you are referring to the incinceration of the Weasleys’ Christmas tree, yes, I heard about it. Or was there some other event that you’d like to share with me?”

Harry glanced quickly up at his da and was relieved to see the man’s eyebrow was quirked at him sardonically. Good. That meant he wasn’t mad. “No,” he assured him hastily. “That was it. Uh, did Auntie Molly tell you that the twins started it? An’ that they were the ones who incendio’d the tree and cut the sofa in half?”

Snape blinked. “They cut the sofa in half?”

“Well, yeah, but Bill fixed that pretty quickly, so I don’t think Auntie Molly even noticed,” Harry admitted.

“I was aware that the twins were held primarily responsible for the event,” Snape nodded, deciding it was better to ignore the sofa issue entirely.

Harry went back to grinding the berries. “When it all happened, an’ Auntie Molly first came into the room, d’you know what she said?”

“The mind boggles,” Snape replied drily.

Harry looked up at him. “She said, ‘Who did this?’” He waited, as if he had just said something momentous.

Snape scowled. He didn’t like the feeling that there was something he was missing. “And what about that surprises you?” he demanded. “The lack of profanity?”

Harry shook his head impatiently. “No. She asked. Don’t you see? She didn’t automatically think it was me!”

Ah. Snape realized anew what life at the Dursleys must have been like for Harry. “I see.”

Harry nodded. “An’ when the twins told her it was mostly their fault, d’you know what she did then?”

Snape considered his answer carefully. He now had an idea where Harry was headed with this. “I understand they were punished… physically.”

Harry looked at him soberly. “She whacked them on their bums with a wooden spoon. Pretty hard too.”

“You are aware that will never happen to you?” Snape asked quickly. Had the punishment frightened the boy?

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “But…”

“What?”

“Auntie Molly didn’t hit them as hard or as long as Uncle Vernon used to hit me. An’ I never burned down the Christmas tree or did anything as bad as that.”

Snape suppressed a sigh and laid down his tools. “That is because your Muggle relatives were inhumane and uncaring. Molly Weasley’s punishment of the twins, while undoubtedly unpleasant for them to experience and perhaps a bit frightening for you to witness, was nevertheless infinitely more appropriate than how those Muggles treated you.”

Harry kept his eyes on the yew berries he was crushing to a powder. “My uncle – and my aunt – used to hit me really hard,” he said quietly. “Even when I was a lot younger. It really hurt.”

“I know,” Snape said softly, watching the boy. What in Merlin’s name was he supposed to do or say?

“They said I deserved it.”

“And that was a lie!” Snape spat. His rage overtook him and he swooped down on the small boy beside him, tilting his chin up so he could see his eyes. “You did nothing to deserve such treatment. Nothing you could have done would have merited the treatment you received at their hands.”

Harry blinked back tears. “It wasn’t just that they hit me. I mean, they didn’t do it that often, but even when I was being good, I still had to do all the chores an’ stuff, while Dudley didn’t do anything. An’ if I did get in trouble, I didn’t get fed an’ I got extra chores an’ the Dursleys were mad for like forever. But at the Burrow, after the twins got whacked, they just came back to be with the rest of us. They weren’t locked in a cupboard. They didn’t even have to clean more of the living room than anyone else. An’ they got dinner that night, an’ pudding even. So did the rest of us, an’ we were being punished too. But even when we got sent to bed early, we still got hugged an’ kissed good night, an’ we were allowed to get out of bed to use the loo if we needed to, an’ no one had to do more chores than anyone else…” Harry broke off, the tears spilling over. “Why did my relatives hate me so much?” he wailed. “I really tried to be good, I did!”

Snape cursed under his breath even as he found his arms full of weeping, snotty little boy. Dear Wizarding Parent Monthly, he mentally penned, Why is it that children insist on taking responsibility for things which are wholly beyond their control, such as the depraved indifference of their caregivers, yet are wholly incapable of being responsible for such simple tasks as cleaning their teeth or picking up after themselves?

He spelled the lab stool into a more comfortable chair and settled the child on his lap. Merlin, if Albus or Minerva happened upon this scene, he’d never hear the end of it! Once the boy’s tears had finally slowed, he poked the brat to get his attention. When the wet, green eyes met his own, he asked, “Harry, what do you think would happen if I had gone to your house and cast a glamour on you and your cousin, making each of you look like the other?”

Harry blinked in confusion. “Huh?”

“What would have happened? Would your aunt and uncle have accepted their son’s behavior if it was done by someone with your face? Would they have been pleased with their son’s apparently turning over a new leaf and leaving his bratty ways behind when you – wearing your cousin’s visage – continued cooking and cleaning?”

“N-no. They probably would have killed Dudley when he acted his normal way an’ they would’ve tried to get me to stop doing chores.” Bewildered, Harry gazed at his da. Why was he asking such a silly question?

“Then don’t you see, silly child?” Snape scolded. “Their treatment of you had nothing to do with how you acted. You did everything they asked of you and they still treated you badly. It had nothing to do with you. They were reacting to what they thought you were, not who you really are, and therefore nothing you could have done would have helped. The fault lies with their own disgusting natures, not with what you did or didn’t do. They may have felt pressured to accept you into their home after your parents died, but that in no way excuses their treatment of you.”

Harry sniffled. His da always explained everything so well. “It – it wasn’t my fault?” he whispered. “Not even when I did – “ he cast a nervous look upwards “- freaky stuff?”

Snape rolled his eyes. “Harry James Potter, that ‘freaky stuff’ was entirely out of your control, and punishing a child for things they cannot control is never justified. Do you understand me, young man?”

Harry nodded and burrowed against his father’s chest.

“Good. Because the next time you suggest that it was your fault and not those horrible Muggles’, you will owe me 100 lines of ‘I do not control other people.’”

Despite himself, Harry giggled. “That sounds like something ol’ Voldesnort should write.”

Snape quirked his eyebrow. “Shall we make it ‘I am not responsible for other people’s abysmal behavior?”

Harry pouted. “No! That’s longer!”

Sitting the boy up, Snape conjured a warm flannel and wiped Harry’s face free of snot and tears, despite the boy’s loud protests. “Back to work with you, Mr Potter. I believe I said ground yew berries, not powdered. You will remain at this work bench until you do as you are told.”

“Daaaaaaa,” Harry groaned. “I’m hungry! It’s already been like four hours! Isn’t it time for dinner yet?”

“It’s been more like forty minutes, you impossible brat, and as I recall it was you who disturbed me with your tales of deranged house elves. Finish the yew berries and you may have a snack.”

There were no further visits from house elves, insane or otherwise, over the next twenty-four hours, and then the rest of the student body returned to Hogwarts. Harry was at the front door to greet his friends. “Harry!” Ron yelled as if they hadn’t seen each other in months, grabbing the dark haired boy and pummeling him in excitement.

“How was Switzerland?” Hermione asked Harry, impatiently pushing Ron away.

“Wicked! Sirius took me everywhere, and Moony an’ I saw that movie you told us about, and –“

“Oi, Harry!” Seamus and Dean greeted him with a couple of whacks on the shoulder. “Gonna do any flying in the Great Hall tonight?”

Harry grinned. “Nah. But I get to go back to living in the Tower with you guys!”

“That’s great!” Dean exclaimed.

“Oi, where’s Draco?” Harry asked, looking for the blond.

“We don’t know,” Neville replied worriedly, approaching with Crabbe and Goyle alongside. “Have you heard from him since Featherbee’s? We looked but couldn’t find him on the train”

“That’s because my father came to see the Headmaster and brought me with him,” Draco explained, sauntering up. “There was no reason to go on the train with all the riff-raff,” he added, giving Ron a disdainful look.

“Oh yeah?” Ron demanded.

“Yeah!” Draco retorted, and Hermione rolled her eyes as the two fell joyously into a shoving match.

“Draco! You’ll tear your robes!” Pansy Parkinson screeched, hurrying up and pulling the Slytherin away from Ron.

Draco gave her an unfriendly glance as his roughhousing was so rudely interrupted. “Who asked you, Pansy?” he snapped.

“Ooooh, Draco’s got a girlfriend!” Ron sang out happily.

“Shut it!” Draco snapped, shoving Ron again. But before hostilities (however eagerly anticipated by their participants) could again break out, Hermione snapped her fingers at Goyle and Crabbe, and the two behemoths obligingly stepped between the would-be combatants.

“I don’t want to be late for the Welcoming Feast,” she told the boys sharply.

Draco glared, affronted, but Ron was, as usual, happily distracted by the prospect of food. “Okay,” he said agreeably.

“So what did you do for New Year’s, Draco?” Harry asked as they entered the Great Hall. Most of the other students were still exchanging greetings or settling their familiars, so they were the first into the large chamber.

“The Malfoys had a big masquerade ball,” Pansy interrupted quickly. “All the best people were there,” she said pointedly, looking around at the Gryffindors.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Yeah, and my father made me dance with her,” he told Harry in tones of utter disgust. Even Ron looked sympathetic. “I’ve had nightmares for weeks.”

Pansy huffed in outrage. “I’m telling your father! We’ll see what he thinks of your manners!”

“So tell,” Draco snapped. “But then I’ll tell Professor Snape that you got a Housemate in trouble.”

Pansy paled at the thought of their Head’s reaction to this violation of the Slytherin code. “Fine. See if I care,” she managed to snap, then flounced away.

Draco stuck his tongue out at her departing back, and Ron and the other boys laughed loudly.

Hermione, after a moment of indecision, hurried after Pansy. She certainly didn’t like the girl, but there were times when some sort of sisterly support was needed, and she was certain that Pansy had heard and been hurt by the boys’ unkind laughter.

“Pansy, wait!” she called. “Are you okay? Boys are just so immature,” she offered consolingly, reaching the other girl’s side.

“They don’t bother me in the least,” Pansy said stiffly, though her trembling lip suggested otherwise. “Who cares about some stupid boys?”

“I bet you had a really nice dress for the ball,” Hermione prompted, and the Slytherin’s face lit up.

“Ooooh, yes! It was green and – what’s that?” Pansy said, her eye abruptly caught by an object on the nearby table.

Hermione looked on as Pansy snatched up the book. “It looks like someone’s diary,” she answered. “They probably put it down and forgot it when they saw a friend arrive. Give it to me.”

Pansy’s face darkened suspiciously, and she hugged the book to her chest. “Why should I?” she demanded.

Patiently Hermione pointed to the banner just behind the table. “This is the Gryffindor table. It probably belongs to someone in my House. I’ll give it to Professor McGonagall.”

“This isn’t the Gryffindor table anymore,” Pansy retorted. “Just because it’s closest to the Gryffindor banner doesn’t mean anything. People sit wherever they want now.”

“Well, yes,” Hermion was forced to admit the truth in the other girl’s words. “But it’s still more likely to belong –“

“No, it’s not! You just want it because you’re bossy and want to claim any reward! Well, you can’t have it. I found it, and I’m keeping it. If someone in your House reports a lost book, then you just have your Head of House talk to my Head of House!” Pansy snapped, spinning away and stalking out of the Hall.

Hermione rolled her eyes. That would teach her to be nice to Parkinson. She rejoined the boys, now loudly reliving their visit to Featherbee’s, complete with Jones’ treatment of the twins.

The Great Hall was noisier than usual that night, as the students excitedly shared their holiday adventures, but finally the Headmaster was able to quiet them down. “Welcome back to another term,” he said warmly. “I am certain it will be full of many exciting adventures in learning!”

Farther down the staff table, Snape rolled his eyes at the man’s incorrigible optimism. “Adventures”, yes. “In learning”, doubtful.

“As you all know, last term we suffered the unexpected loss of our DADA instructor,” Albus continued. Snape muffled a snort of derision. Well, yes, that was one way of describing what had happened – “unexpected loss” indeed! “Alas, it can be very difficult to find qualified instructors midway through the school year, so we are very fortunate that the Minister of Magic himself has assisted us.”

Snape’s attention, like that of most of the students, focused sharply. Fudge had a hand in the appointment of the new DADA instructor? Snape frowned. That surely meant that Lucius Malfoy had had a say in the matter – Fudge had barely enough wit to change his socks without seeking advice. But what could this mean? Snape hadn’t really paid much attention to the DADA issue; he knew Dumbledore wouldn’t offer it to him – not when he had his own Potions classes as well as his House and Harry to look after. Come to think of it, though, it was a little odd for Albus not to have mentioned anything before now.

Severus glanced over at Minerva, but she was looking as surprised and wary as he felt. Obviously then Minerva hadn’t been involved in selecting whomever this new faculty member might be. Considering Albus’ past appointments, that was not good news.

Snape frowned. He was confident it wouldn’t be Black or Lupin. While offering Black a position at the school would be very much in keeping with Albus’ determination to keep Harry at Hogwarts and defuse what he feared was Black’s plan for wresting custody of the boy, neither the mutt nor the werewolf would have been stupid enough to keep the information from Severus. Well, the werewolf wouldn’t be stupid enough. The mutt might very well think it would be a hilarious surprise, but he lacked the self-control to keep from sharing the plan with Harry, and Snape was confident that Harry would not have been able to keep that news a secret from him.

So. If it wasn’t one of the remaining Marauders, then who? Albus was quite correct: qualified DADA instructors should all have had jobs for the entire school year. Even idiots and charlatans like Gilderoy Lockhart or Emmanuelle Throckmorton could hardly drop everything and take up a teaching post with little warning. If nothing else, it would promote the wrong image for them to be perceived as so available.

Snape frowned again. If Fudge were involved, perhaps that suggested some civil servant was to be seconded to the school for the remainder of the school year? Hmmmm – perhaps some newly retired Auror or one on desk duty due to an injury? Snape began to feel a bit optimistic. Mad-Eye Moody would be a brilliant choice. Particularly now that he appeared less convinced of Snape’s Death Eater loyalties, it would be reassuring to have someone so paranoid lurking around the castle and ensuring that Voldemort hadn’t managed to sneak in again. Moody’s membership in the Order meant that Dumbledore would have no issues with accepting him, and after the previous term’s events, Snape could understand why Fudge (and Bones) might wish to have an observer from the Ministry and MLE present at Hogwarts. Yes, it all made sense. And having such an experienced Auror teaching the children could only be to the good. Snape nodded to himself. This could be very useful, particularly if he could get Moody to give Harry some extra Defense lessons. That would nicely complement his dueling lessons with Flitwick… But Albus was still talking.

“I am sure you will join me in welcoming Minister Fudge’s personal appointment to the Hogwarts staff, and our new DADA instructor, Professor Dolores Umbridge.” Albus nodded to the far end of the table from Snape and began to clap.

Students and faculty followed the Headmaster’s lead and applauded as a short, toad-like woman, dressed entirely in pink, rose to her feet. Snape’s stern self-control enabled him to bite back the furious oaths that were his initial reaction, though one glance at Minerva proved she too was less than impressed by this appointment.

“Now,” the Headmaster continued, “although the third floor corridor is no longer off-limits, I must caution all students that –“

The small, squat woman interrupted. “Thank you, Headmaster, for those kind words of welcome. Each new headmaster or professor brings something new to Hogwarts, but progress for the sake of progress must be discouraged. Let us preserve what must be preserved and prune practices that ought to be prohibited! Children, as your new DADA instructor, I promise that you will all leave Hogwarts with a good understanding of the theory behind Defense Against the Dark Arts. We will not waste time worrying about nonsensical fantasies or sensationalistic threats, and there will be none of those dangerous lab practicals. No, a theoretical knowledge is more than sufficient to get you through your examinations. After all, so long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells in the highly unlikely event that you ever face a practitioner of the Dark Arts.”

Snape was both gratified and insulted at the way everyone – student and faculty alike – glanced at him when Umbridge mentioned “a practitioner of the Dark Arts”. He glowered menacingly, and the gazes were hastily averted.

“Ah. Yes. Well.” It was almost worth losing Moody as DADA instructor to see Albus so nonplused. Snape enjoyed the moment while Dumbledore clearly struggled to decide how best to respond both to the witch’s unexpected wresting away of the floor and the outright idiocy of her statements.

“You cannot seriously be suggesting that in your classes, students will not have the opportunity to practice spells under supervision,” McGonagall snapped, leaning forward over her plate and fixing the other witch with a fearsome scowl.

To Snape’s mingled alarm and admiration, the other witch was unfazed. “Given how incredibly implausible it is that any witch or wizard will ever need to employ Defense Against the Dark Arts spells, I see no need to waste precious class time in practicing them. Even most Aurors go their entire career without encountering an Unforgiveable,” Umbridge added airily.

The absolute inaccuracy of the statement, coupled with the speaker’s tone of complete certainty, rendered McGonagall speechless for a moment.

Dumbledore, still looking uncharacteristically flustered, seized the opportunity to intervene. “I am certain we will all find your teaching style most interesting, Dolores,” he said quickly. “And now, let the Feast begin!” He hastily seated himself and the appearance of the serving platters prevented further debate.

“Albus! Are you insane!” Minerva demanded, grasping him by the sleeve. “Who is that fool? What in Merlin’s name is she doing here?”

Albus sighed. “Now, now, Minerva. Dolores’ ideas are perhaps a touch uninformed,” he said delicately, “but she had the good grace to accede to the Minister’s request and assume this teaching position on very short notice. I’m certain she’ll come around in time.”

Minerva snorted loudly, but forebore from further argument. On her other side, Snape was not nearly so reticent. “Headmaster, I understand why Madame Umbridge –“ he refused to award such a cretin the title “Professor” “- would seek to curry favor with the Minister by undertaking this job, but why did you agree to it?”

Dumbledore sighed. “Please, my boy, give her a chance. I looked everywhere for an instructor, but none were to be found. I approached the Ministry hoping we might be able to borrow an Auror, but when the Minister responded by providing Madame Umbridge, I was in no position to refuse.”

“And her qualifications?” Snape asked forbiddingly, his tone making it abundantly plain that he doubted she had any.

“Not perhaps any that are directly relevant,” Dumbledore admitted, “but she has had a very distinguished career in the Ministry, and that may be of interest and utility to the students who are interested in following such a path themselves. And the curriculum is fixed – any competent witch or wizard can demonstrate the majority of spells.”

“I shall immediately instruct my prefects to set up study groups,” Snape responded acidly. “At least my younger snakes can benefit from the experience of the older ones.”

“I do hope you’ll give her a chance, my boy,” Albus said, and his voice had a note of steel in it. “I’m sure you can recall how uncomfortable you were during your first term teaching.”

Snape subsided, grumbling to himself. “I was never incompetent,” he muttered rebelliously.

“At least it’s not for the whole year,” McGonagall sighed in his ear. “Would you like to create some inter-House study groups? I can have my prefects contact yours.”

Snape nodded. “Perhaps an informal Defense Club would be a good idea. I imagine the NEWTS and OWLS students would be most interested in such a thing.”

Both turned morosely to their meals, the students’ happy chatter swirling around them.