Teaching is Hard
1995
My first week as a professor at Hogwarts is over in the blink of an eye. I had decided to use the gemelle spell in all of my classes, with varied results. I’d been receiving letters from parents complaining about the new seating arrangements all week.
Luckily, Professor Dumbledore supports the initiative so I'm not too worried about getting in trouble with the Board of Governors.
Several of my students had come to speak with me outside of class hours, requesting new partners. What surprised me most though was how large the gaps between the houses had become.
Slytherins weren’t to be trusted.
Gryffindors were heavily favored because of Harry.
Hufflepuffs were mediocre and Ravenclaws were swotty perfectionists.
No one seemed to mingle outside of their house.
While house rivalry was strong when I was a student, it was out of house pride rather than hatred for the unknown.
One after the next, students of all ages knocked on my door intent on changing my mind.
So when Theo Nott knocked, I sighed and invited him in to sit down, prepared for another request I would not be granting.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Nott?” I ask, trying to sound more grown up than I am.
“Professor, I was hoping you would call me Theo. It’s just, Nott is my father, and I’d prefer not to go by his name,” the pale boy looks at his hands in his lap, his cheeks going pink.
I immediately feel bad.
“Of course, Theo. I apologize. I suppose I should have asked my students for their preferences.”
He glances up and nods, grateful.
Tiberius Nott. I’d known him a decade ago. He was a nasty piece of work. From Theo’s sullen eyes and skinny frame, I can’t imagine he has calmed with age.
“How are you Theo?”
“I’m alright, Professor. Happy to be back at school.”
“You know, I had assumed you had come to request a different partner for my class,” I lean back, folding my hands over my stomach.
“No. No, I like Dean.” His cheeks go pink. “He’s alright, I mean.”
“I’m glad. Is there anything else I can do for you, Theo?”
He shakes his head, but doesn’t stand up.
After a long moment, he shrugs.
“I was just wondering about what you said during our first class. About patronuses.”
“Yes?”
“Well from what I have read about them, you need a happy memory. A strong one.”
He is worried about not having a strong enough memory. My heart goes out to him.
“Yes. However, it isn’t so simple. We won’t get to patronuses until well into the Spring, but please know that I believe every person is capable of conjuring one.”
He doesn’t look convinced.
“Theo, my memory, the one I use to conjure my patronus, is complicated. When I was seventeen, I was living alone in my family manor. My friends here weren’t speaking to me and I was more alone than I had ever been. An older girl I was close with visited me and we spent an afternoon talking. She and her family were killed three days later. I’m not sure why but that afternoon with her is strong enough.”
I pick up my wand.
“Expecto Patronum,” I cast, my eyes watery.
A small red tailed fox bursts forth from the tip of my wand.
It fades away in moments but I can’t help but smile. I haven’t tried conjuring it since I was freed. I worried it would stop working.
Theo looks a fraction less worried himself.
“I think maybe I could have one,” he stumbles.
“Even if you don’t, you have a few months to make a happy memory. Think of it as an assignment,” I joke.
Except he nods, seriously.
“Thank you Professor. I know everyone is angry with your new style, but I think it could be good for us. With everything that happened last year,” he doesn’t finish his thought.
I think of Harry when he talks about the tournament. They were all there.
“Were you friends with Mr. Diggory?”
“He was a Hufflepuff.”
He says it like it is an obvious reason why they couldn’t have been friends.
“Perhaps I could give you another assignment. Befriend one person from another house. It can be Mr. Thomas, if that is easiest.”
“What do I get in return?”
“How about a weekly cup of tea paired with a bit of instruction on Patronuses?”
He squints, thinking about it.
“Fine.”
“Good. If there is nothing else, Theo, I am sure I have a student itching to yell at me waiting outside,” I stand, using a nonverbal spell to open the door.
“I’ll see you next week Professor,” Theo offers a thin smile.
Nodding, I walk him to the door and glance at the small gathering of students at the base of the steps.
“I take it all of you are here to complain about your seats in my class?”
Nods and agreements shuffle through the group.
“I won’t be changing my mind. You’ve all worked in pairs before. Learn to deal with it,” I throw my arms up and turn back into my office, unwilling to listen to any more complaints about my brilliance.
So far, my plan had resulted in two actual fights, a fair number of spats, and no less than a dozen howlers delivered by my owl, Twila.
If I weren’t such a stubborn witch, I’d probably contemplate changing tactics. Too bad.
Sitting down behind my desk, I write out a letter to Remus.
I’ve no idea how you did this for an entire year. Part of me is prepared to throw in the towel. Fred and George turned my hair Weasley orange after I split them up. And how exactly did Lucius Malfoy escape imprisonment following the war? He sent me a rather nasty howler yesterday. Trying not to dwell on it. Unsuccessfully obviously. Forgot how cold it is here. Send me a jumper? Tell Sirius I say hello and remind him he can always go to Fawley Manor for a change of scenery. Perhaps the two of you could take a day trip.
Lots of Love, Connie
I seal it and send it off with Twila, who had just delivered another round of complaints straight to my windowsill.
Running my hands through my hair, I stand up, deciding to be done with work for the day.
Pulling on my robes and a tattered green scarf Bosky insisted I bring with me, I grab my wand and head out the door.
My feet surprise me by carrying me towards the dungeons.
I don’t know the Slytherin Password. Somewhere on my desk upstairs it is written down.
So I walk towards the Potions classroom instead.
Severus’s office light is still on.
Leaning against his doorframe, I watch as the sullen man scribbles long letters atop a piece of parchment.
“Already grading essays?” I ask, getting his attention.
He looks up, scowling.
“That is what happens when you actually teach your students,” he sets down his quill and crosses his arms.
His robes are absolutely ridiculous.
“I’ll try to keep that in mind. Fancy a drink?” I decide not to goad him.
“Where?”
“The three broomsticks. No students,” I remind him.
His eyebrow cocks and his lips twist but he eventually nods and stands.
“Only one.”
I nod as though I plan on respecting his request.
We make our way out of the classroom and nearly run into the Malfoy boy.
“Draco,” Severus greets him.
“Professor Snape. Professor Fawley,” the young man bows his head to both of us. He doesn’t say anything else though, speeding off to who knows where.
“Lucius’s son?” I ask, trying to sound uninterested.
“Obviously.”
By the time we leave the castle and start on our walk to Hogsmeade, the silence is unbearable.
“How was your first week back?” I ask.
He looks at me without turning his head in my direction.
“Really, that is what you came up with?”
“Oh whatever, let’s just get drinks and we can sit in awkward silence the whole time.”
“Promise?” He asks.
I stomp ahead of him, feeling juvenile.
Madame Rosmerta brings us two butterbeers as soon as we sit down and I annoy Severus by ordering two firewhiskeys as well.
“I said one drink,” he frowns. Except he has butterbeer above his lip giving him a rather funny mustache.
“Relax. I promise I won’t let you do anything idiotic.”
There aren’t very many people in the tavern. Unlike tomorrow when every student old enough will flood in.
“Several of my students think you are unqualified to be teaching defense,” he says smugly.
“I assume you have told them all how wrong they are?”
He shakes his head slowly.
“They are just mad I won’t let them work with their housemates.”
“For good reason.”
I bite my tongue. Severus Snape will never admit the virtues of the other houses.
“Any promising potions students?”
“No. Maybe one. My seventh years would rather play suck and blow with their chocolate frog cards than learn patient brewing.”
I can’t help the loud laugh that burst from my throat at his words. I never would have guessed he would know the favorite drinking game of drunk adolescents.
He glares at me and I get my laughter under control.
“Sorry. It’s just, what do you expect? Your classroom is dingy and cold like an icebox. Not exactly a good learning environment.”
“Slughorn didn’t exactly keep it warm and sunny,” he points out.
“Right, because Old Sluggy is who you should base your expectations for good teaching on.”
Madame Rosmerta interrupts us with two small shots of fire whiskey.
I push Sev’s close to him.
We do the shot quickly and I manage not to laugh when he chokes on his.
“Why didn’t you write to me?” Sev surprises me by asking.
“When?”
“After you were freed. It’s been nearly a month.”
I think of what I should say.
That I wasn’t sure whose side he was on. That Sirius and Remus told me all about why Remus left teaching.
“He’s back,” I say instead. “People’s alliances shift. I had too much to say for a letter.”
It isn’t an apology. He doesn’t deserve one.
James and Lily died because he didn’t stop his precious Lord.
Severus had decided whose side he was on.
“Still-“ he looks up at me and I snap.
“Stop. Don’t say anything. I know you knew about Peter. That you didn’t tell Lily he was a traitor. And I know you are the one who told Lestrange I was a spy.”
He looks like he wants to deny it. But he can’t.
My suspicions are confirmed.
Severus had betrayed me to save himself.
“You have to understand-“
“No. I don’t. But I do anyway. You loved Lily. You didn’t care who else got hurt as long as she walked away alive. What did he do? Promise you he wouldn’t kill her? That he was just after the boy? So you thought, I won’t stop him. I’ll let Peter sell them out. I’ll take care of Connie so she can’t warn them. I’ll let Voldemort take care of James. Lily would be all yours. Brilliant plan Severus. Truly. Except it didn’t work. He slaughtered her anyway.”
He isn’t looking at me now. I probably went too far. It’s been nearly fourteen years since they died. He’s lived with it every day since then.
“Connie, there is so much you don’t know.”
“This was a bad idea. I’m not ready to talk about this.” I stand up and throw some coins on the table.
“Connie, just let me-”
I don’t let him finish. I apparate onto the street outside.
So much has happened. I get that.
Maybe one day I’ll let him explain. But not today.