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A/N—Welcome to Year Two of the Snape-ish Exploits! For those who don’t know, this a sequel to my story The Puzzling Prattlings of a Pulchritudinous Potions Professor, so it’s not totally necessary to read the first one, but it sure wouldn’t hurt! But anyway, welcome to the prologue…Starting in the summer of CoS… 






Every summer I make a list of Goals to Achieve Before August. I then apply myself with alacrity to said goals (receiving one happy-face for every Goal Accomplished, and one Potter-face for every Goal Bungled) until August the First. August itself is a bit of a toss-up month, unfortunately, and can range anywhere from binge-eating over the Impending Doom (school) to the infamous Triathlon Training of 1989.

That summer, however, I had only one concrete goal.

But as I hung precariously from a mangrove tree over Dumbledore’s sleeping form on a golden beach in Aruba, I began to think that perhaps I had once again taken things a little too far.

I stared out at the sea for a moment. The sun was setting, the waves were rolling and lapping, and the gentle, puffy clouds were very precisely spelling out, “Hire Severus Snape for the Defense Job.”

I looked back down at the napping Headmaster in his fluorescent lawn chair on the sand. How could he miss my masterful Sign from the Heavens?

I looked away rather quickly. He was a bit difficult to look at for long periods of time. He was sporting some sort of antiquated swimming costume, possibly inherited from Queen Victoria, which covered every part of his body except his spindly, chickeny, old man legs, which stuck out like two sore green thumbs that had been eaten by a fish out of water.

I recovered from my mixed metaphor, and then began devising ways to make Dumbledore awaken to my masterpiece. It took a while, but I finally chose a failproof method.

“Your socks are being stolen!” I hollered down at him, and then clung onto my branch, thinking tree-like thoughts. I realized that this was the second time in a year that I had found it necessary to pretend to be a tree. That is when you know you need to do some life evaluation.

But anyway, Dumbledore did not stir.

He instead, eyes still closed, said, “I know you are there, Severus.”

I was so flabbergasted I lost grip on my tree.

I landed on the Headmaster with an “Oof!” and his lawn chair collapsed under us. We both had to do some scrambling to extract ourselves from the rather awkward pileup.

When we were finally standing a good ten feet apart from each other, I asked, “You knew the whole time?”

“The whole time, yes.”

“Even when you yelled ‘I’m king of the world!’ and then accidentally did a belly-flop?”

“Yes.”

“And when you were trying to sing like Julie Andrews?”

“Why, that was especially for your entertainment purposes.”

“And when you found the bikini top in the sand and tried it on for size? You knew I was here then?”

“Hummmm,” he said ambiguously, and then began to employ all the well-known stalling tactics at his disposal. He cleared his throat, shifted from foot to foot, looked at his watch, sneezed, scratched his head, looked at his watch again…

“Alas! I have no watch! It is high time I acquire one!”

He took off at a rapid toddle, trying to escape, but I jumped in front of him to block his way.

“Headmaster! I really do need to speak to you. About that job…I think it’s high time you give me a chance. I’m fully qualified—“

“Unfortunately, the position has already been filled,” he cut me off.

I gaped at him in horror.

“Well—at least—“ I stuttered, “You didn’t need to be so abrupt about it! You could have warned me first. Let me down gently. Some flowers would have been appropriate, for example…”

“I apologize, Severus,” he said, with highly inadequate sorrow and pity.

“Well…then…who took…it?” I asked, with absolutely no tears of any kind involved at all.

“Gilderoy Lockhart,” he said.

My knees may or may not have given out.

“Gilderoy…the Gilderoy Lockhart?” I asked, giggling in the manliest of fashions. “I love hi—his work! I have all of his books, I—excellent choice, Professor! Just…smashing! I’ll—I’ll see you at school then! Gilderoy Lockhart, who would’ve thought…Gilderoy Lockhart…”

I practically floated back to Hogwarts. It may not seem like it, but I’m actually a very easily star-struck person. Once I saw Hoover Stern of the Tornadoes on the street, and I tripped right into him trying to get his autograph.

Same thing with the first time I saw the Dark Lord, actually.

But that was not as well-received.

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