Vector's Challenge

Vector's Challenge

Chapter Three

After two weeks of pestering Hagrid, every other teacher and staff member they thought would talk to them, the portraits, and even the ghosts, Harry finally gave in and admitted that they had to talk to Dobby. Snape's odd, fair, behavior had continued in every single one of his classes, and even after hours. A Gryffindor second-year had only gotten five points taken off after Snape had caught her out after curfew. The Slytherins had taken to owling home every single day, demanding (a) a new Head of House, (b) deliverance from the madman who was impersonating Snape, (c) weaponry both magical and non-magical to use against the imposter Snape.

A delegation of the seventh-year Slytherins had even attempted to question Dumbledore about Snape's behavior, but had only gotten a sugar high and the direction "Ask Professor Snape about it yourselves." None of them had dared to do that yet.

Harry decided that the best way to do it was to get Dobby into the Gryffindor Common Room, where there would be plenty of witnesses in case Dobby decided to try to warn Harry off his questioning. Fred and George slipped down to the kitchens, and brought Dobby back up with them.

"How was Harry Potter's summer?" Dobby asked Harry.

"Just fine, Dobby," Harry replied.

"How were things here at Hogwarts?" Hermione asked Dobby.

"Oh, things is very tense, Miss Granger. Professor Vector is making a naughty bet with Professor Snape at the staff retreat."

"WHAT? Professor Vector made a naughty bet with Snape?" Hermione shrieked.

"Oi, what exactly got bet?" Ron was very interested now.

Dobby sighed. "Professor Vector was after betting that Professor Snape could not be fair to all the students for one month, sir."

Harry laughed. "Easiest money Professor Vector ever made."

Dobby shook his head. "It is not money that Professor Vector has bet, sir."

"So what did she bet?" Ron asked. The rest of the Gryffindor boys asked, "Yeah, what did she bet? Come on and tell us, Dobby!"

"If Professor Vector is losing the bet, she will do an Egyptian dance at the Halloween Feast, wearing Slytherin colors."

The Gryffindor boys made appreciative noises, and the girls looked appalled. "Oh, come on, she'll never lose," Hermione spat out.

"Yeah, that's right. So what does Snape have to do if and when he loses?" Longbottom asked.

Dobby smiled. "If Professor Snape is losing the bet, then Professor Vector is washing his hair for him at the Halloween Feast."

Ron started to laugh, and all the students beyond first year joined him in a moment. "This is perfect," Fred said to him. "We should make sure that we fix this somehow."

"Fix this how?" George asked. "Fix the bet or fix Snape when he loses?"

"Both, of course," Fred replied. Everyone laughed, and then settled down for some serious plotting.

Of course, the rest of the school then proceeded to find out about the bet, in a somewhat distorted fashion....

Millicent Bulstrode practically pelted into the Slytherin common room, eyes full of tears. She saw Professor Snape, and her eyes lit with relief.

"Sir, sir, is the rumor true?" Bulstrode asked Snape.

"And what rumor is that, Miss Bulstrode?" Snape replied.

"Is it, is it, true that you have a b-b-bet that P-P-Professor Vector is g-going to snog you at the Halloween Feast?" Bulstrode stammered out.

"What? Certainly not! Who told you that?"

"I-I overheard some Gryffindors talking in the girls' bathroom, sir. They said something about a bet between you and Professor Vector, and one of them said something about how Vector will 'snog you senseless after that,' sir." Bulstrode looked truly distressed.

Snape looked around the room. All his Slytherins looked worried. Very worried.

"And is the rumor true that you're ternilmally ill, sir?" Draco asked him.

"Ternilmally - terminally ill? No, Mr. Malfoy. I am not fatally ill, I have not been replaced with a duplicate, I am not insane, or any of the other rumors that have been spread around."

"But then, what's going on, sir?" Parkinson wailed.

Snape sneered as he replied, "I had hoped that you would find out the information for yourselves. Instead, I find it necessary to spoon-feed it to you. Instead of being a credit to your House and finding out what's going on around you, by whatever means possible or necessary, you've all been whining like eleven-year-old Hufflepuffs."

The Slytherins' faces started to take on a relieved look. Snarling Snape was back.

Snape turned toward Corentyn Warrington. "Warrington, did you really think your parents would send you a Sure-Shooter Stronginthearm?"

Warrington retorted, in a tone more relieved than outraged, "But I sent them that message secretly!"

Snape shook his head. "Warrington. Honestly. Do you think that I would be a weak old fool like some other persons I could mention?"

He turned his attention to the girls. "Parkinson, Bulstrode has apparently outdone you. At least she can keep her ears open some of the time, unlike the rest of you."

One of the first-years, Robin Zabini, called Zabini Minor whenever Blaise was around, started to cry. Snape was taken aback. He didn't think he was even close to reducing the students to tears. Zabini Minor sniffled, "Oh, Professor, it is you." Snape was suddenly filled with affection for his pit of vipers, although of course it would not do to let them know of it.

"Do you know, sir, I was planning to poison you?" Malcolm Baddock said. Snape paused for a moment. "And just how were you planning on doing that, Baddock?" he asked, like a proud, critical father.

Baddock glared back at him "I was going to put arsenic into your firewhiskey hip flask!" the impertinent boy retorted. Everyone laughed at this.

"An old classic," Snape replied, "but you had better observe your potential victims more closely. Do I have a hip flask? Do I use it?" The boy's head shook no for each question, but then Snape smiled. "Not a bad thought for a mere second-year. Defend the House and the School no matter what. Ten points to Slytherin for advanced thinking."

Now all the Slytherins were happy again. Their Professor Snape was back. "So what is going on, sir?" Warrington asked.

Snape gave them a tight smile. "I have been reluctant to inform you children, but since the cat is coming out of the bag, I may as well inform you of the true situation."

The Slytherins looked at him expectantly. "Professor Vector and I made a wager at the last staff meeting in August that I could not act fairly towards all the students for one month." Jaws dropped as the wheels turned in the Slytherins' heads.

"So that's why you've been acting so strange," Draco whispered.

"Precisely, Mr. Malfoy. When I win the wager, she has agreed to do an Egyptian dance in the Great Hall at the Halloween Feast, while wearing Slytherin colors." All the boys over the age of puberty emitted appreciative noises at this news.

"And what if you don't win, sir?" Parkinson asked.

Snape frowned. "If perchance I should happen to lose, Professor Vector will wash my hair for me at the Halloween Feast."

The Slytherin males shuddered at this news. The Slytherin females looked appalled and disgusted.

Snape looked back at them, and gave them all a slow smile. "Don't disappoint me, now. Carry on." And with that, Snape turned on his heel, swirled his cloak, and headed off to his quarters.

After he left, the Slytherins all started to talk at once. "No more letters home - we have to support the Old Bastard - even if we lose House points - but we still have to try our best -"

That same day in the Ravenclaw Common room, one of the Ravenclaw second-year girls, Janet Dorny, who had been in that same bathroom marched in and indignantly told them what the Gryffindor girls were saying about "that horrible Professor Snape and their dear Professor Vector."

Their dear Professor Vector was sitting in a cozy, hidden nook in the common room, reading the Kabala. She cleared her throat after the girl was done speaking. All the students present looked at her. Dorny gave a guilty start. Vector calmly told her Ravenclaws, "When Snape loses, I'll wash his hair for him."

Terry Boot asked her, "What if you lose?"

Professor Vector replied, "Hah! There are three chances that Snape will win: slim, fat and none." She paused for a moment. "It's really none of your business anyway." She fell silent again. "And even if he should chance to win, you lot know that I can dance, but don't you dare let any of the Slytherins know that. I don't want to be hit with a Jelly-Legs Curse before I start."

Stephen Cornfoot asked her, "What kind of dance?"

Vector grew irritated at the thought of making the bet, remembering Snape's tone of voice, how he had talked to her as a first-year. She snapped out, "An Egyptian one, wearing as little as is compatible with an institution of higher learning."

The Ravenclaw males groaned at this news. "Crikey! Now we understand what's meant by mixed motives!" Kevin Entwhistle muttered.

Vector grinned. "Woman does not live by learning alone."