This Year's Search

"And that's the last thing on our agenda for today," said Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, beaming at his staff. "It's a beautiful day; you should all go out and enjoy it." With those words, he turned and left the staff room, a bounce in his step.

Once his steps could no longer be heard, Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School, closed the door firmly and turned to her colleagues. She picked up a stack of files and began handing them out. "Here are the candidates. It must be a year for idiots; there's one for each of us this year."

Severus Snape, Potions Master and the newest member of the staff, looked down at the file McGonagall had handed him. "What's this?" he asked as he leafed through the papers.

"They're this year's applications for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position," sighed McGonagall. "Albus makes the final decision, of course, but he's found that having the staff go through the applications does weed out some of the less suitable candidates. We'll meet here tomorrow morning with our first impressions."

"Wait," Snape said, looking intently at the folder he was holding. "I'm one of the applicants; who has mine?" He noted that the others winced as they looked at their files. Moments passed, but no one admitted to having his file. "I gave my application to the Headmaster over a week ago; was that too late?"

Filius Flitwick, Charms Professor, snorted. "I doubt it. Just as well, though. We want you to stay on; I think we'd all discourage Professor Dumbledore from accepting yours."

Snape looked around the room in bewilderment. All the others were nodding in agreement with Flitwick and smiling at Snape. "I don't understand."

"That's because this is the first year you've been through it; you hadn't started when we went through it last. At least as a professor," said Rolanda Hooch, Flying Instructor and Quidditch Coach. "It's been years since we've had a Defence teacher last more than a year. Every time, we go through this nonsense. We don't want to have to get a new Potions Master as well; you're the best since old Slughorn and you might just be better."

"The last Defence Professor to last more than a year was Galatea Merryweather," said McGonagall, "and she retired before I started teaching here. Rolanda's right, Severus; a good Potions Master is even harder to find than a good Defence Professor and Potions is more dangerous without a good instructor than Defence. We were all terribly relieved when you joined us as Potions Master."

"And you're wonderful with Slytherin House," added Pomona Sprout, Herbology Professor. "You'd be shocked at some of the things that have been done to the previous Slytherin Heads; the youngsters know you won't put up with any nonsense."

"And," said McGonagall, "under your tutelage, the Slytherin Quidditch team is as much of a match for my Gryffindors as any are likely to be." She gave Snape a frosty, tight smile.

Snape snorted. "Wait until next year and we'll show you how Slytherin defeats Gryffindor. Getting back to Defence, why? The position isn't that dangerous and I'd think it would be a position of pride and honour."

"Should be," agreed Angus Kettleburn, Care of Magical Creatures Professor, in a gravelly voice. "But it's cursed."

"Oh, really," Snape said impatiently. "If there's really a curse, the Headmaster would have it off in no time. What is it really?"

"Look into it on your own time, Severus," said McGonagall in a firm voice. "I have other things to do this afternoon and I haven't time for more of this. Do a basic check of the applicant in your file; see if there's any obvious reason we shouldn't hire him or if he's a perfect candidate. We'll meet to discuss them in the morning."

Snape returned to his office, thinking hard. He Flooed to the Ministry, made three inquiries and wrote up his findings for tomorrow's staff meeting. He didn't want to be caught with any of his responsibilities undone. Then he made his way to McGonagall's office.

She smiled at him when he knocked on her door. "That took you longer than I expected," she said with a fond smile. "What took you so long?"

"Work before curiosity," he told her. "I'm not a cat. Where can I find the old staff files?"

"Right over there," she said, chuckling. "And I'm not so sure about that, if you ever bothered to learn the Animagus transformation. Maybe not a housecat, but a leopard or a panther . . . ?"

He stretched and smiled, enjoying the image. Judging from her laugh, the stretch had looked rather feline.

Snape spent the rest of the afternoon looking over the previous Defence Against the Dark Arts instructors. It was a surprising experience. Contrary to his expectations, the better qualified an individual, the sooner they generally left the position. The number of deaths was surprising, the number of life-threatening injuries truly shocking and the percentages of those deaths and injuries caused by the position amazingly low. The longest any had lasted was from the day after the end of the summer term to the last day of the summer term. The shortest had been one poor sod who'd been trampled by a Thestral as the students were arriving from the Hogwarts Express.

Out of curiosity, he checked the instructors when he'd been a student. Although he could name all seven instructors, none of them had left much of a mark on him. He'd learned more on his own, before he'd even begun school, than any of them had taught him. The seven folders were thin; four had left on long holidays, one had left to have her baby (he remembered the surprise when they'd found out their teacher was pregnant and the horror of the first years who were in her class when her waters broke), and the other two gave no reasons. The year before he started, however, was one of the bad ones: they'd gone through no fewer than four instructors and the other professors still had to cover the class for almost half the year.

Absentmindedly saying "Good-bye" to McGonagall, Snape returned to his office to think. He wanted that position, as much as he'd ever wanted anything, but he knew he needed to stay at Hogwarts, under Albus Dumbledore's protection. Deciding that he would continue to apply for the position, he started making notes on everything he knew about curses on non-corporeal things. Maybe not this year, maybe not the next, but some year, he would be the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor.

The next morning, the staff met again to discuss this year's applicants. The results of one day's lacklustre investigations were startling to Snape. Sybil Trelawney announced that "My Inner Eye informs me that Gilderoy Lockhart would not be a good candidate; he will harm the students under his care." Judging from the snorts around the staff room, Snape wasn't the only one to be able to figure that one out without their Inner Eyes; he shuddered to think how bad things would be if that poncy fraud were ever to be hired for any position at Hogwarts.

When it was his turn, he said simply, "Caleb McHugh is a werewolf. I don't think we need a Dark Creature teaching the students to defend against the Dark Arts." McGonagall sighed and put a note on his file. It was actually a shame; otherwise, the man seemed well qualified, but Snape knew intimately how dangerous a werewolf at a school could be.

Pomona Sprout shot down the next candidate. "He attacks little girls!" she said shrilly. "There's even questions about how he might have killed one!" Everyone looked shocked, and McGonagall wrote a large note, in red, on the file itself. Snape rather thought she'd threaten to resign before a known paedophile was hired at Hogwarts.

The final candidate to fail the staff's investigations was "this year's Ministry hack", in the words of Joan Archer, the Muggle Studies Professor. There were nods around the room that allowing the Ministry any hold at Hogwarts was a bad precedent and should be avoided at all costs.

The meeting finally ended. "Thank you all," said McGonagall as she collected the files. "I'll give Albus your information and recommendations and hope we can hire someone effective for the next school year. Remember, I need your book and supply lists by next Monday." The meeting broke up.

Next year, Severus promised himself. Next year, he'd get the job.

fin