Severus Snape - PageRunner?

This story features Jasper Fforde's literary detective, Thursday Next. If you haven't made her acquaintance, then I suggest you get hold of the books - they're worth it. Thursday Next has the ability to travel from the RealWorld to the BookWorld, and so is in much demand ...

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’Jurisfiction is the name given to the policing agency inside books. Working with the intelligence-gathering capabilities of Text Grand Central, the many Prose Resource Operatives work tirelessly to maintain the continuity of the narrative within the pages of all the books ever written, a sometimes thankless task. Jurisfiction agents live mainly on their wits as the attempt to reconcile the author’s original wishes and readers’ expectations within a strict and largely pointless set of bureaucratic guidelines laid down by the Council of Genres. I headed Jurisfiction for over two years and was always astounded by the variety of the work …’

Thursday Next – The Jurisfiction Chronicles.

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Landen put his head round the door: 'Some one here to see you, dear.'

I groaned, yawned, then stretched. I had been trying to get forty winks on the couch. A good lunch and a peaceful Sunday afternoon has that effect on you.

'Who is it, darling?'

'Take a guess,' he said cheerfully.

'Not ...?'

'That's right.'

I groaned. Although I was supposed to be retired from Jurisfiction, people still kept on coming round to see if I could 'just to help us out with a little problem'. They usually sent Commander Bradshaw: they knew I found it difficult to say no to him.

'Well, you'd better wheel him in.'

Landen disappeared. Pickwick took the opportunity to appear in the doorway, collar and lead in beak. 'Plock,' she tried to say, her mouth full.

'Ask the Commander to take you for a walk when he's finished,' I told her.

She gazed at me uncomprehending. Dodos never were very clever. Another muffled 'plock'.

'Never mind.'

Then a more indignant 'plock!' as the Commander appeared in the doorway, holding his pith helmet by the brim, turning it round and round rather nervously in his fingers. Pickwick retired in haste.

'Thursday. I hope you're in good health.'

Uncertain as to his welcome, his voice was falsely hearty.

'As good as I was when you came to visit a fortnight ago,' I told him dryly.

'Oh, yes, of course – and thanks for your help. We were very grateful for that. Got us out of a spot of bother, y'know.'

'Indeed. Well, come in, sit down, and tell me all about it.'

'All about what?' he asked, settling himself cautiously in Landen's favourite armchair.

'Your latest problem – whatever it is.'

'Ah, yes – that.'

I waited.

'Are you going to tell me about it then?' I asked finally.

'Well, yes, we do have a slight problem which, we feel,' said the Commander delicately, 'calls for your special skills.'

'Dangerous?' I asked bluntly.

The Commander looked shocked. 'Good Heavens, no. Would never put a lady into danger ...' His voice tailed off.

'Quite,' I said dryly. 'Well then?'

'It's more your ... well, persuasive skills we need.'

'Oh? Heathcliffe alert time?'

'Oh, no, nothing like that. Something completely different. It concerns those Potter books – you know, that Snape fellow...'

'Professor Snape, Commander.'

'Yes, er, of course, Professor Snape – well, he's kicking up something of a fuss, apparently. All sorts of stories have been flying around. Even rumours that ...' - the Commander lowered his voice - '... he might become a PageRunner!'

I was only mildly impressed. 'A PageRunner? Snape? Come off it.'

'We must take rumours like these seriously, y'know.'

I looked at him, exasperated. 'Look, where's Snape going to take a runner to? It's not as if he's exactly inconspicuous. Unless he finds something really obscure that's been out of print for half a century, he'd stick out like a sore thumb in any book you care to think of.'

'There is that, I suppose,' admitted the Commander.

'So what's got him so uptight?'

'This fanfiction business.'

'Ah.'

Fanfiction was something that none of us at Jurisfiction had ever seen coming. Once upon a time, people wrote books with pens, and you had to be fairly dedicated to write out a whole book longhand. How the Victorians managed it, I've no idea, and the thought of writing a Dickens novel by hand made me faint. Then the typewriter came along, and everyone just looked at it as something to make life easier. When computers and word processing were invented, we just thought that they'd be better typewriters. What we didn't foresee was the Internet, and how all these word processed stories began flooding the world, pushing books completely aside.

Some people loved it. All those Generics who used hang about after graduating from St Tabularasa's, grateful to find themselves saying a line in a potboiler if they were lucky, suddenly found themselves pressed into service in a fanfic, with not the odd line or two, but as major characters. Mind you, it did rather explain the quality – or lack of – of many fanfics.

'So what's his grumble this time?'

Snape was not an easy man to deal with – well, I don't have to tell you that. He had won the Most Hated Man in Fiction at the BookWorld Awards seven years running, but resolutely refused to come and claim his prize. I had been pressed into service once or twice to try to persuade him to change his mind – but without success. For years, the prize had gone to Scrooge, with Richard III the usual runner up. Scrooge had won it so often that he thought he could claim it for good – then Snape came along. Mind you, I suppose fewer people read Dickens or Shakespeare these days.

The Commander sighed. 'This time? Those wretched memes.'

'Oh, dear. Which ones?'

Memes were something else that had caught us by surprise. An offshoot of the Internet, they weren't as deadly as a vyrus, but could still be pretty nasty if they weren't caught in time and stamped on - hard.

'Two of them,' he said wearily. 'There's the ... Severitus, I think they call it ...'

'Snape as Potter's father?'

The Commander nodded. 'Then,' he went on, 'the one where he and that Granger girl ...' He went slightly pink.

'Ah, yes. “The insufferable little know-it-all”.'

'Quite. I'm not sure which of the two he dislikes the more.'

'And what does he expect us to do about them?'

'I've told him over and over again that once these things get out into the wild, there's not much we can do about it, but you know what he's like – not a man to listen to reason.'

'So where do I come in?' But I could already guess that.

'Well,' he said delicately, 'perhaps I wasn't quite the person for the job. Perhaps not quite enough, well, tact.'

In other words, he'd been along to talk to Snape, and had been told to get lost – except perhaps in rather sharper terms. I could just imagine Snape honing his sarcasm on the hapless Commander.

'And you think I have?' I asked, amused.

'Well, I'm sure you'd give it a better shot that I did.'

That wouldn't be difficult. The Commander did rather tend to go in with all guns blazing, so to speak. On the other hand, the thought of going down to those dungeons again, for yet another conversation with that man ...

'Is it term time?' I asked.

'No. In fact, the school's closed at the moment to show tourists around.'

Hogwarts boosted its finances by giving guided tours to the selected few during the school holidays. As you can imagine, they could charge visitors a fair fortune.

'Hm.' Well, the Commander had many good qualities, but tact probably wasn't among them. Of all the people to send to have a word with Snape, he'd probably be the worst choice possible. 'How urgent is it?'

The Commander cleared his throat. 'Well, if you could see your way clear in the next day or two, we'd be most grateful ...'

'I'll give it a try,' I said finally. I could see the relief on Bradshaw's face. 'No promises, mind you – about talking him round, that is.'

'No, of course not. It's just that we thought – well, if anyone could, you could.'

'Thank you for that. Will you stay for some tea?'

'A very kind offer, but the memsahib's expecting me. Said I'd be back before nightfall.'

'Of course,' I said gravely. 'Give my regards to Mrs Bradshaw, and tell her it was good to see her again at last year's BookWorld Awards.'

He brightened slightly. 'I must say, she always enjoys those affairs. Not quite my cup of tea, but there you are.'

'I'll see you out then.'

Landen came in soon after the Commander had left.

'What is it this time?' he asked cheerfully. I told him. 'Oh dear, you'll love that.'

Landen was one of those rare creatures: NotAPotter!fan.

'You'll look after Sweetpea while I’m away?' I asked. 'I shouldn't be more than half a day at the most.

'No problem.'

One of the nice things about having an author as a husband was that he didn't go out very much.

After lunch the next day, I wandered, reluctant, over to the bookshelves. Quite early on, the Potter sequence had earned itself the accolade of a Boxed Set. In fact, several Boxed Sets. First Editions of the first two books were now worth a fortune, but later ones had been printed by the hundred of thousand. I reached for one of the weightier tomes, flipped the pages, found a suitable passage, and read myself into Hogwarts Castle. I'd been there before, of course, but even so, it was still impressive – even more so in the summer sunshine.

The fanfic revolution had kept huge numbers of Generics in work, but also had give us its fair share of problems. St Tabularasa's had had to educate classfulls of specific characters – and can you imagine a class full of would-be Hagrids? They had also seriously over produced Lockharts, anticipating plenty of Lockhart fics, which turned out to be a big mistake. Lockharts couldn't really be used anywhere else, and they were damn all use for any other job. And the trouble was that you couldn't tell whether they were out of work or not – they'd always be spinning this big yarn about how successful they were, and how important their role was in whichever story they were supposed to be starring in. On the upside, we'd been able to get rid of a job lot of aged, bearded mentors, who had originally intended to be Merlins, but turned out to make excellent Dumbledores.

The other major snag had been Snapes – hordes and hordes of them coming sneering out of class. Just as well they were in such demand, because we'd have had trouble getting rid of them to any other book.

Ah, well. To the task in hand. Although it was the holidays, I knew Snape was more likely to be in the castle than at Spinner's End. It was the tourist season, and although Snape would do nothing so demeaning as to greet or welcome the tourists, he did like to be seen in the distance, flitting about, bat-like, in that cloak. That gave me another clue: there must be a deep seated streak of vanity somewhere in the man if that were the case. Somehow, I'd have to dig it out and exploit it.

I thought I'd better try the dungeons first. It was something of a wrench to leave the sunshine and fresh air, and instead descend into those gloomy stone walls. As I walked down the stone staircases and corridors, I could feel adjectives pressing in on me from all sides: sallow, greasy, hook-nosed, silky voiced. If there were only a way of persuading would-be authors to use a thesaurus ...

I tried his office first, and, slightly to my surprise, he was in.

'Come.'

I opened the door, and he looked up, a momentary flicker of surprise on his face. Catch 'em unawares, that always helps – and to have provoked such a reaction from the notoriously inscrutable Snape so early on was also quite a feat.

'Ms Next,' he said, recovering quickly. 'To what do I owe the pleasure?'

As if you didn't know.

'Professor Snape,' I acknowledged, closing the door behind me. I walked up to the desk. 'May I?' indicating a chair.

'Of course. I am honoured by such a visit. Although, I do confess, I cannot imagine what such a well known Jurisfiction agent would want with me.'

Enough of the pleasantries.

'Really, Professor? You surprise me. After all, it is not long since another agent had a conversation with you – and one which didn't go too well, from what I hear.'

'Ah, yes, the gallant Commander,' said Snape, leaning back in his chair, a sneer in his voice. 'Not the most subtle of men. And so now I am honoured with another visit – and from an Outlander, at that.'

'Commander Bradshaw was following up some reports that had come to our attention.'

'Oh, really?' he murmured in his silkiest manner. (Blast! Even I was succumbing to those damned adjectives.) 'What reports might they be?'

'As you well know, rumours are rife that you are not entirely happy with things – and that you might be prepared to take drastic action.'

'Drastic action?'

My patience was wearing thin. Time to resort to Snape's own bullying tactics.

'Is there an echo in the room, or are you just obfuscating?'

The answering smile was very thin. 'Perhaps, Ms Next, you'd care to be more explicit.'

'Very well. The latest set of rumours to reach our ears is that, unless, you get your way, you may resort to becoming a Page Runner.'

'That would indeed be drastic action.'

'So?'

'So what, Ms Next?'

'Is there any truth in the rumours?'

'I have never mentioned the possibility to anyone. I have no idea why you might think such a thing.'

'Oh, I am sure you have never uttered the word. That would not be your style. On the other hand, you may well have hinted, suggested, implied, that things are not to your liking, and that you are contemplating doing something about it.'

'And why do Jurisfiction feel that things might not be to my liking?'

'That's obvious enough. You have sounded off as often as you could about your pet annoyances – centring mainly around fan fiction.'

'Ah, yes, I wondered when we were going to come to that.'

My guess was that Snape had no intention of becoming a PageRunner: he just wanted to draw attention to himself often enough to bring someone like me along, so that he could make noises to someone who he felt might do something about it.

'Well, Professor, perhaps you'd like to give me your views on fan fiction.'

That, I knew, was asking for it. But you could spend too long beating about the bush with the likes of Snape.

His lip curled. 'My views? On fan fiction?' He put a world of scorn into those last two words.

'Yes, Professor.'

'Parasitic,' he snapped.

I raised my eyebrows. 'Tribute, surely?'

'Parasitic,' he snapped again. 'Without a decent book – and characters - behind them, they'd be nothing.'

'Tributes to those decent books, and the characters.'

He leaned across the desk and hissed, 'Have you any idea, Ms Next, what sort of stories there are out there?'

'Yes, indeed, I have. Some are interesting, one or two are really quite good, but most of them are dreadful.'

'Exactly, Ms Next, exactly. Dreadful. Most of them worse than dreadful'.

He did have a point. Many of them were dreadful, albeit for a variety of different reasons. When word processors came along, many in Jurisfiction heaved a sigh of relief. Spell checkers, they thought. We'd at least get stories where the words were spelled correctly, even if the stories were rubbish. Which just goes to go how wrong you could be.

Snape knew what I was thinking. 'Spell checkers don't tell you the difference between 'their' and 'there' – or sometimes,' he shuddered, 'even 'they're'.'

'True,' I acknowledged, 'but that's not a problem unique to fan fiction. We're working on it,' I added, rather feebly.

Easier said than done. What we needed was someone in Jurisfiction who knew their way round computers and the Net – and teenage computer geeks didn't often feature as heroes in fiction. We had raided Robert Harris's Enigma for its boffins, but they still seemed to think that cracking U boat codes was more important.

I could sense Snape's scorn. 'Really?' he asked, with an eyebrow raised in polite scepticism.

'Really.'

Mind you, there were some mistakes that even a spell checker wouldn't catch. I think my favourite line in all of fanfiction was: 'Harry smiled weekly at them.' Did he note the day in his diary, I wondered?

'I am most pleased to hear it,' Snape went on. 'However, there is another problem which you have most singularly failed to resolve.'

'Which is?' - although I knew what was coming next.

'Memes,' he spat.

'Oh, yes. They rather took us by surprise – but compared with vyruses, they're a relatively minor problem,' I said with my fingers crossed.

'Really?' again.

'Well, yes. There's nothing actively harmful about them.'

Again he leaned forward across his desk. 'Not harmful? Have you any idea, Ms Next, of the humiliation caused by them? I will not deign to mention the memes concerned, but I am sure you know what I mean.'

I did. Memes were ideas which, when let loose in the fanfic world, could create havoc. There were two rather virulent ones floating around which involved Snape himself. Mind you, give his somewhat rebarbative character, I could understand why they might be so virulent.

One was the 'Severitus' meme. This had spread like wildfire not long ago, and involved the idea that somehow Potter was Snape's child. Despite all the attempts to write their way round it, most authors tripped up on the first big stumbling block – which was that there was no way Lily Evans could ever have fancied the greasy haired Snape. Although ... as I gazed back at him, I did notice that the lankness was somehow diminished. Was there the faintest whiff of shampoo in the air? I was certain I was dealing with the original Snape, and not some Grade A Generic stand in. Perhaps that suppressed streak of vanity was surfacing after all.

The other meme was the Snape/Hermione Granger coupling, which was not quite as bizarre as it sounded, but which nevertheless irritated Snape beyond measure.

Despite his avowal not to mention them, he went on, 'The idea that I could have fathered ... that boy! And that I could be ... involved ... with the Granger girl.'

I gave him a wide smile. 'Insufferable know-it-all girls - they can be annoying, can't they?'

He gave me a raised eyebrow in acknowledgement. 'Indeed, Ms Next, they can.'

'Mind you – I think maybe Potter and Granger may have the greater cause for complaint.'

So much for tact.

He didn't take my meaning for a moment, then leant forward menacingly. 'My dear Ms Next, you can't possibly think ...'

I interrupted him. 'You're quite right,' I said cheerfully, 'I can't possibly think.' It was time to come clean. 'Now, Snape ...'

'Professor Snape,' he interrupted in the silkiest of tones. (Blast again!)

'Professor Snape,' I corrected myself, 'you obviously labour under the delusion that the Potter saga cannot possibly be the same without you; that even if we brought in a Grade A Generic, the castle and the story will never be the same.' I drew breath. 'Whether this is true or not doesn't matter in the slightest. First of all, if you do a run for it, you'll be picked up in no time. Where do you think you're going to hide? The best place for you might be Dickens, but he's so well read that you'd be spotted in thirty seconds.

'The second point is that maybe the castle and the saga won't be the same without you, but what does that matter? The books have had millions of readers. We've been swept off our feet trying to keep up with the readership. Now, you go, and we get a few million fewer. Even then, the Potter books will rank among the Best Read Ever.'

I stopped and gazed at him. I'd obviously struck a nerve. He knew that he'd never be able to get away with it, and, frankly, I think that he'd pine away in any other setting. Snape was as much Hogwarts as Hogwarts was Snape.

Now for the killer. I'd been rehearsing this moment in bed late last night.

'On the other hand, perhaps you do need a sabbatical. Jurisfiction can arrange that without any problem. In fact, we've a couple of slots already lined up for you. I picked one specially for you – Enid Blyton's Five Take An Adventure has been out of print now for years – it could accommodate you without any problems, and I'm sure the company of Julian, Anne and the others will keep you amused.'

If it were possible for that sallow face to go any whiter, it did.

'The other place which we thought you might fancy is one of the Bunter stories – we thought you and Mr Quelch might get on rather well together.'

The white of his face slowly changed to purple. I watched, fascinated – I never realised that someone's face could change so drastically.

Just before he began to show signs of apoplexy, I went on, 'We would, of course, much prefer that you remained here. We quite appreciate some of your problems. In fact, we'd rather like to work together in their solution. Tell me, Professor, just how do you think Jurisfiction should go about sorting out the fanfic problem?'

Frankly, I had him over a barrel, and he knew it. He knew there was little we could do about the fanfic plague. All he had really wanted to do was to get our attention – and I can do without attention seekers, even if they are the Potions Master at Hogwarts.

Abruptly, Snape got to his feet, reached down for his wand, dropped it back onto the table, then turned away to gaze into the depths of one of the jars lining the shelves of his office.

'I do confess, Ms Next ...' he began jerkily. So I was right! He had been thinking of Dickens! Then he turned back to face me. 'You say that if I run, I shall be spotted too easily. That I can see. Yet you must see my position is becoming intolerable!'

I took another deep breath. 'Tell me, Professor Snape – how many times do think you have been imitated in some story posted on the Internet?'

'I have no idea.'

'Nor have I. But one thing I do know – apart from the Gryffindor Trio, no one has been as called upon as often as yourself. And, to be honest, you have greater depth of character than any of those three – indeed, more than the three put together,' adding a dollop of flattery. 'So, tell me, how does it feel to be one of the characters most in demand throughout the world?'

'That's not the point ...'

'Yes, it is! To be written about so many times – it's not surprising we have to call on Grade C Generics for the stories. A Heathcliffe can ask for Grade As, and get them, but how many Heathcliffe fics are there? Precious few. If there were as many Bronte fics as there are Snape fics, then we'd have Grade C Heathcliffes. You are a victim of your own success. Can't you see that, man?'

He looked at me, thinking about that. For all his supposed intelligence, he'd missed something very obvious. There were so many fanfics out there written around him that any Generic who could sneer was pressed in for the part. It didn't help that they liked to go on holiday regularly (a lot of fanfics got what might politely be called a rather limited readership), or swap fics with their friends for the sake of variety (and, frankly, there were a lot of fics out there which I'd have moved out of like a shot, unless I had no choice). It worked to our advantage in one way: often a Generic would find a fic that suited him, and settle down in there. To have story and character in sympathy with each other always made for a better read.

'If only they weren't so dire ...'

'We have to take the stories as they are written, I'm afraid,' I told him rather briskly. 'Even if they are written by teenagers with psychological problems, or respectable married ladies who, for whatever reason, are turned on by slash.'

Snape shuddered, and I can't say I really blamed him.

'Now look,' I went on, 'if you feel you really do need a break, we can arrange a proper one. You are an award winning character – even if you have refused to collect the damn things. But every oyster has its bit of grit – and, I'm afraid, fanfic is your bit of grit. You have plenty of other pet dislikes out there, as we all know – so you'll just have to add this one to your list.'

Slowly Snape moved back to his chair and sat down again, then he sighed. 'I hear what you are saying, Ms Next, and I appreciate your taking the time and trouble to come and see me. I cannot say the situation is one I find desirable, but, if I can have your assurance that Jurisfiction is working towards a solution to the meme problem, then I shall be a little happier.'

That told me what I wanted to know – he would go along with things as they were, even if he did like to whinge about them. As I had guessed, what he really wanted was some attention. I smiled inwardly – the rebarbative Snape, an attention seeker!

I inclined my head. 'Indeed, Professor, we are as keen to clear up the problem as you are. Please accept my assurance on that.'

I was beginning to sound as though I were in a Dickens novel myself. It can get to you, being immersed in some book for too long, and I had lately been sorting out a problem in Bleak House – nothing of significance, merely Lady Dedlock being tiresome again.

'But now you have taken the trouble to come all this way, Ms Next, may I show you over the castle?'

I must have shown my shock momentarily – Snape volunteering to be of service? - for his lips moved into the thinnest of smiles.

'That's very kind of you.'

'Not at all.'

And he turned out to be a surprisingly good guide at that. So affable was he that I began to suspect ulterior motives. Did he, I wonder, have aspirations to Jurisfiction himself? In many ways, he make an excellent agent – providing he were assigned to the right sort of case. But yes – he'd negotiate around the complexities of a Victorian novel with skill. He probably had too much pride to ask direct – but I might make some enquiries about it on my return. With one proviso. That he didn't ask for me as his mentor. Snape as an apprentice – well, it would certainly be a challenge.