The Switch

The Switch

Snape really wasn't very pleasant. He tried to act civil with his students but times were trying. He was so grumpy nowadays that when anyone so much as looked in his direction he would simply bark some unnecessary insults and tell them to get on with their work. The teachers noticed it too. In the staff room on breaks, he would simply sit in a corner, have his coffee or butterbeer, then stand abruptly and leave, his long cape billowing behind him.

Most of the teaching and student body didn't think about it as they simply assumed that he was just being his normal self. But Dumbledore knew better.

A few weeks ago, Snape had come to him, complaining that the youngest Weasley was playing up in her potions class which caused the other students to become distracted and generally disinterested in the Shower Cleaning potion which they were supposed to be in the process of making.

"Is that so?" was all Dumbledore said, a twinkle in his eye and a shadow of a smile on his lips.

Snape folded his arms, looked directly at the headmaster and nodded smugly. Of course, if this was a Slytherin who was causing trouble, or possibly even a Ravenclaw, he would not think it important to report. But as the student in question was a Gryffindor AND a Weasley, he felt it necessary for Professor Dumbledore to know about her classroom antics as soon as possible.

But as all readers know, and I'm sure Dumbledore was quite aware of it himself, there was more to the Potions Master's update on classroom etiquette than he let on. And, sure enough, at the back of Severus's dark and mysterious mind, there, indeed, was a faint glimmer of hope that this performance would get our young Ginny expelled which, of course, would explain his state of smugness.

"I assume you will justly deal with this problem, headmaster?" enquired Snape, a hint of malice in his tone.

Albus nodded slowly, a smile breaking onto his wrinkled face.

"Never fear, Severus. I promise you that I will make it my paramount ambition to make sure that this problem will be dealt with in the fairest way possible."

Snape, quite satisfied with how this little meeting had progressed, stood, bowed briefly and sauntered out of the room in a way that only a smug, evil Potions Master knew how.

So you could imagine our villain's surprise when on Tuesday morning, he found Miss Weasley, a 6^th year, sitting in the first row of his 7^th year Gryffindor and Slytherin Potions lesson.

The poor students didn't even get a chance to open their books as an utterly confounded Snape exclaimed an incredibly rude word and stalked out of the classroom in a huff.

It was a quite beautiful day: the sky was blue, with warm weather and a slight breeze, and if one listened closely, they could hear the faint chirping of a single Golden Snidget echoing throughout the Forbidden Forest. It was the kind of morning where everywhere you went, people would greet you with a sunny "Good Morning!" regardless of whether they knew you or not.

But only an incredibly dull person would attempt to converse with Severus on that fateful morning, as he swiftly made his way to the headmaster's office.

When he entered, he found a relatively negligent Dumbledore sitting in his chair, facing the door, as if he was expecting Professor Snape to call in.

"Don't you have a class right now, Severus?" questioned Dumbledore, clearly amused at how irate his Potions Master was.

Snape quickly sat down at the chair opposite Albus, presumably to prevent himself fainting from shock.

"You said...you said that you would take care of Ginny Weasley!" spluttered Snape, who appeared to be utterly astounded at how calm Dumbledore was.

"Take care?" Dumbledore murmured quietly, the edges of his lips twitching upwards slightly, "I'm not quite entirely sure what you mean. Do you mean to say "take care" in a paternal respect or "take care" in a way which suggests that you wished for me to be rid of her?"

At the risk of sounding like a complete asshole for admitting that he preferred the latter option, Snape simply spluttered some more before exclaiming "You know perfectly well what I mean!"

Dumbledore broke the silence that followed. "I said I would deal with this problem justly and I have. I called Miss Weasley to my office a few days ago to discuss her behaviour in her Potions class. She informed me that she found the work too easy and was consequently bored. So, with a few alterations to her timetable, I moved her to the 7^th year Potions class. I think it's all perfectly acceptable."

It was all perfectly acceptable. And that was the problem. Because no matter how much Snape racked his brain for a flaw in this plan of Albus's, he couldn't find one that was valid, apart from pathetic excuses such as, "But she's a Weasley." Which he decided not to say out loud, as this would just make him appear to be more of an idiot than he already did.

So he had not other choice than to slowly stand up, mutter a bitter farewell, and return to his abandoned lesson.

Two Weasleys in one class, thought Snape as he scowled at the pretty day displayed in front of him as he walked back to the dungeons, I'm screwed.