Sev's Diary

Sev's Secret Diary 1991/1992

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This Diary belongs to Severus Snape. Anyone who reads this apart from me will be cursed to walk the lonely paths of eternity wearing a thick layer of boils and talking in naught but gibberish.

You have been warned.

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Dear Diary, Tonight is the last night for a whole school year in which this castle is not full of whining, lying, bratty children. I hate children. I hate adults. I hate people. I wonder if this job is just wasting my time - I do love potions, but the fascinating beauty of the subject is completely lost on the phlegmatic blockheads I have to teach. I have always wanted to write a book - maybe one about intimidation, potions or animal pickling - all subjects I am very adept at.

On a bright note, skin is looking especially pale compared to other professors' summer tans. Who'll be laughing in 20 years when I still have deliciously smooth pale skin?

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Dear Diary, How could I forget? How could anyone possibly forget? Harry Potter has started Hogwarts.

I hate his father. I hate him. To me, he is a nasty little boy, whose head has been swollen with false tales about his bravado. The only reason he is famous is because of that ugly disfiguration on his forehead. The whole wizarding world seems to have forgotten that Harry was merely a lucky bystander in the downfall of Voldemort. He was the simple dummy, the pawn. Voldemort was not ruined through any bravery, or special talent of the child. No, indeed. The person responsible for the celebrations was his stupid muggle-born mother.

Highlight of the day: managed several snide (and rather witty if I do say so myself) remarks about that ridiculous turban of Quirrell's. I knew the man had no fashion sense, but this is going too far.

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Dear Diary, Why must Defence Against the Dark Arts be taught by someone who is scared of his own shadow? Quirrell, the twitchy sod, is still wearing that hideous turban, despite my blatantly obvious remarks on the absurdity of it, not to mention the slightly more subtle hints form various other staff members, and the peculiar stares from students. You would think he would at least take it off long enough to wash it - if not for his own health, at least for the health of those unlucky enough to have to work with him. I have smelt half rotted carcasses more pleasant than that turban.

I am beginning to get a personality complex as a result of all the remarks I know people are saying behind my back. I would seriously consider using a nose shrinking charm, if I wanted give everyone the satisfaction of knowing they got to me.

I hate people.

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Dear Diary, What a gloriously vindictive day I had today. Finally knocked a Potter down a few pegs. How I have longed to do that since my days as a Hogwarts student when the excessively pompous James Potter strutted into this school like he owned it.

In other news, got an owl from Mother today. Wants to know why I never come and visit. As if it isn't obvious. I already know exactly what she will say, and frankly would rather sample one of Longbottom's potions than be force fed cup after cup of foul tasting herbal tea ("They are so good for you dear - you are looking so pasty, are you sure you're not coming down with something?"). Why should I waste an afternoon of my life listening to her drivel on and on, about me and my personal life. "Why don't you add some colour into your wardrobe, dear?" "Do let me do something with you hair, it looks so. . . scruffy." "When am I going to be a grandmother, Severus? "Are you still single?" I remember the last time I suffered through an afternoon of her torturous questioning's. It turned out she had set me up on a date with one of her friends' daughters for that evening. Told me to take her out on a picnic, and had even made the sandwiches.

Interfering old bag. Will pretend never got the owl.

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Dear Diary, I can't believe Quirrell. I know what he's up to. I'm onto him. And he knows it now too. Will have to keep a very close eye on him in the future now. Stopped the traitor trying to get past Fluffy tonight and got a bite off the wretched beast, but I'm a man. I can handle it. Not like that stuttering freak.

And what the hell is up with the turban?

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Dear Diary, I am phenomenally ashamed at my momentary lapse of corruption. Saved the Potter brat's life today during the Quidditch match. He should be worshipping me on bended knee. If anyone ever finds out I helped him. . . but no, I must not think so negatively. Will work hard at being even more objectionable towards the boy. Then no one will ever know. . .

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Dear Diary, Quirrell is really getting on my nerves. Does he really think the Dark Lord is on his side? He is merely an expendable minion (who has exceptionally bad taste in head wear) in the Dark Lord's plans. The stone should be safe though. No one has greater powers at intimidation than me. All those hours in front of the mirror have really paid off.

On a .. dare I say it. *happier* (how I despise that word) note, hair is looking particularly dark and dingy these days. I love the contrast between the dark hair and the pale skin. It really completes the whole I'm-pale-and- scary-so-bow-down-before-me-and-cower-you-nasty-children look.

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Dear Diary, New idea for book - maybe a thriller about an insane homicidal maniac who kills his victims with a particularly nasty undetectable poison. Could possibly add a bit of romance in there? I know everyone thinks I am hard and bitter, but I do like the odd romance. although would have to write under a pseudonym, would not like to let THAT secret get out.

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Dear Diary, Have decided my detentions are far too easy - if you want to teach the degenerates a proper lesson, you have to do a decent job of it. At the very least they should be haunted by recurring nightmares as a direct result of it. So have owl-ordered a record to play on my wind-up gramophone - "Songs of Torture: The Best Hits from Barney, Tellytubbies, Atomic Kitten and Elton John." Also purchased an interesting looking new book from Hogsmeade today, called Intimidation for Personal Satisfaction. Am looking forward to reading it.

Think I will spend the summer writing my book. . .

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Dear Diary, I should have guessed Quirrell would try it tonight, as Dumbledore had left Hogwarts on Ministry business, but honestly hadn't though the idiot had figured out how to get past Fluffy. Besides, was rather distracted with intriguing new colour of pickle potion I have invented. But never fear, our beloved hero, Potter, saved the day. Ugh he makes me sick. And THEN, would you believe it, Dumbledore had the audacity to award Potter and his miserable little friends points for breaking the rules! It. Is. Disgusting. Because of Potter, Slytherin did not win the house cup - and it would have been for the seventh year in a row!!! We still won the Quidditch cup, which is somewhat of a comfort, but does not lessen my hostility toward Potter.

I need a potion.