Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Forty Days of Snape ❯ An Indescribable Feeling ( Chapter 4 )

Alright, after a bit of studying (because I thought something was off but couldn't place it), I discovered that Harry and Ron had History of magic Tuesdays and Fridays, and there was no mention of Hermione taking it at all. I corrected this small error, and shall be concentrating on matching up facts from the fourth book and my story from now on.

As always, thanks for reading!

Forty Days of Snape

Chapter 4: An Indescribable Feeling

 

Since his initial meeting with Doom, Snape had encountered approximately two hundred forty five additional items of blue. Among them - three shirts mistaken for his by the house elves, five ink pots he didn't remember ever owning in the first place, and one unfortunate (and albeit highly amusing) accident involving Longbottom and a potion gone wrong. For three days the boy was practically a talking blueberry.

 

None of it boded well for our Dear Professor Snape.

 

The man felt his SII growing stronger. Random bluebirds would twitter about when he swept the courtyards. The Beauxbatons, due any day now, advertised their big powder blue insignia on every notice board in Hogwarts. One morning Snape had thought of taking up his toothbrush, still molding away on the lavatory sink, but that blue vial scared him practically to death.

 

Blue, blue, blue, blue, blue!

 

It didn't help that his intended victim was also a walking reminder of blue. From her deep blue robes to the very blue color of her eyes, that Sally-whatever was the obvious crux to his problems. But what choice did he have but to stalk her? Halloween was only a few days away.

 

Snape decided to tackle his dilemma from a different angle, although he hardly knew where to start. He needed more information on SII's and their origins, but going to Albus was out of the question. That man was suspicious enough. With all the anxiety over the soon-to-be-débuted Goblet of Fire, he couldn't take a chance on standing out anymore than a big nosed, sour faced man already did.

 

Luckily the Wizarding World boasted a fairly well-kept room of magical documents, which recorded everything from Circe to Quidditch Itch, a very uncomfortable and hardly talked about problem which plagued many hardcore players. He'd need to get into that room somehow. But being a thoroughly unpleasant man, he really didn't have too many options. Even if he ever had the misfortune of making a friend, they certainly wouldn't work in the Ministry of Magic. Things were looking particularly hopeless.

 

This was until the Headmaster requested Snape's presence Tuesday morning, four days before Halloween.

 

“Ah - Severus, I was wondering if you wouldn't take on an errand for me.”

 

Dumbledore seemed to make a point of busing himself, shuffling through papers on his desk and hardly taking notice of the younger man. He peered over the top of his half-moon spectacles anxiously, making a dramatic scene, and finally settled on one particular parchment that Snape couldn't identify. It was all very suspicious.

 

“Seems there is a document of great importance at the Ministry, and times being what they are, we will not trust such a thing to the Floo Network.”

 

He suddenly looked up with a pleasant smile, forsaking what seconds ago could have been a life or death affair.

 

“I understand that this is your free period and - Merlin, have I called you at a bad time?”

 

A dark figure dusted off his robes disdainfully, just recently coming through the hearth. He looked as impassible as ever and across his left cheek was the remains of a potion ruined by the interruption. Dumbledore continued without a response.

 

“I was wondering if you wouldn't -”

 

“- be your carrier owl?”

 

Snape's silky voice couldn't hide its particularly nasty bite today, and he wiped the yellow stain from his face with a scowl.

 

“Naturally. After all, my position has been degraded far too much to ignore this new calling.

 

“Had I known your intentions beforehand, I might have glued feathers to my arms and practiced landing procedures in the Owlery. Never mind that I am one of the most brilliant potioneers of the twentieth century, if the Champion of Good commands me fetch his precious document, who am I to disagree? Certainly no one would find it a tad odd that -”

 

Dumbledore considered interrupting, but was much too busy fighting a curious mixture of amusement and vague approval. He actually seemed rather pleased at the whole thing.

 

“- and shall I hold the letter in my mouth, or may I stash it somewhere more becoming?”

 

Snape ended the drawling monologue with a sarcastic lilt, and crossed his arms impatiently. After a moment Dumbledore smiled.

 

“Very good.” The man had managed to melt Snape's entire ramble into a strange form of agreement and nodded appreciatively.

 

“Take your time,” he hastened to add, giving a wink.

 

Snape regarded the older man carefully, as if seeing him for the first time. If there was something more he wanted to say Dumbledore certainly didn't look it, taking on that ignorant bliss he was famous for. But Snape had a feeling he knew. Everything.

 

He took leave of the Headmaster in a wave of black and glowered the entire way through Hogwarts.

 

Once past the gate, however, the smallest beginnings of a smile were immediately squashed and forced into a sneer. This gave him an excuse into the Ministry, despite how pathetic his role would be.

 

After collecting the required document, an opportunity struck in the shape of a particularly squat Ministry official who was unlucky enough to be walking by. Through the sweetest cajoling such a man could muster, Snape made headway (or rather, the official had his head smacked forcefully into a wall) - awarding him enough time to go through their files in the Room of Records.

 

However, this got him nowhere.

 

As it turned out, Sudden Inexcusable Insight ranked just slightly lower than Smog Pogs, a very rare and benign condition that lasted only an hour and left the victim feeling more refreshed than when it started. Its chances of striking were twenty million, six hundred thousand and fifty two to one.

 

Which was why the file had somehow lost its place in the Room of Records, occupying instead an out-of-use boarded up, unclean, and all around forgotten lavatory on the basement floor, stashed away next to a few rolls of soiled toilet paper and questionable magazines. It was here, after magically invading the dingy unlit space, that Snape found this wonderful box of complete uselessness.

 

Although all four peculiar cases in history were indeed documented, SII's truly could not be appreciated by those other than the victim. Therefore their category left something to be desired. In fact, under the headline `Edric the Dreadful' there were only two words.

 

“Hardly relevant?!”

 

Snape plopped onto the grimy floor in shock. `Hardly relevant' was hardly going to get him anywhere. After a moment of silent cursing, he pulled out the next page. It was worse off than the first.

 

“Depressing?”

 

Another page.

 

“Unremarkable?”

 

The last page was gripped tightly in his hand, all hope of recovery slipping like slime off the cubicle wall. Snape took a breath and read the caption beneath Beverly Burbank's name.

 

“Dull? Dull?! How is this going to help me?”

 

Somehow he knew Dumbledore had planned this all along and sneered just thinking about that ridiculous man and his ridiculous wink. He made sure to rub the requested document along the lavatory's nasty, sticky places before leaving.