The Diary of Severus Snape

The Diary of Severus Snape

Chapter 2

~

September 20

Holy Mother of Salazar! That Umbridge woman is getting on my nerves to the point that I would rather be stuck trying to crystal-gaze with Trelawney (a branch of divination at which I am horrendously bad to the point of being like Potter in Potions, and a woman for which I have a tolerance as low as Longbottom's self esteem.)

She hangs around the staff room staring spitefully at sundry members of the faculty. Namely me. If she wasn't clearly giving me the Death Glare, I'd say she had a thing for me. OH DEAR LORD! Thank Merlin it's not so.

Nah. The way she glares at the other members of the staff, it's clear that I'm not so special. Only Trelawney, McGonagall, and I get the Death Glare. The rest get the my- boss-hates-your-boss-so-I-hate-your-boss-too-and-my-boss-has-more-power-than-yours-so-prepare-to-meet-the-end-of-your-teaching-career. The bitch.

She's just been appointed Hogwarts High Inquisitor. By Fudge. The git. He needs to meet an untimely demise. What authority does he have to make appointments at Hogwarts? He's just the Minister of Magic, not nearly as powerful as Dumbledore, which is why, I suspect, that he put Umbridge here in the first place. Jealousy is a strange thing, and can be really devastating when it comes from rotund little men in lime green bowlers.

Anyways, I need to rant about Potter again. God! He's too frustratingly almost good at Potions it makes me want to pour a bucket of undiluted bubotuber pus on my little kitty cat! Mrs. Fluffles! And I love cats! They're just so cute...........

Stupid digressions. Back to the subject at hand: Potter. HE'S ALMOST DECENT AT POTIONS!!! If he was decent, and it was clearly obvious (how redundant I'm becoming) then I'd have to give him a decent grade! But, he missed a key point-

Translate: minor detail

Stupid diary. He missed a key point in his essay, so I just had to mark him down to a D. D for dreadful.

You know what else is dreadful? Realizing that my favourite student, Mr. Malfoy, is just like Potter Sr. when he was at school. Always making sure his hair is just right, taunting those "less fortunate" than him, flanked by a group of sycophantic cronies who like his money, not his personality. Actually, that git is worse than James. His friends liked him for him, not for his family connections.

And you know what else is worse than dreadful? I've just now come to realize who Harry reminds me of. Stressed out, struggling, taunted about his hair, not ready to accept help from people he's had a spat with because of his pride. I just can't bring myself to say it.

Oh god. I just called two Potters by their first names. Potters Sr. and Jr. James and Harry.

You know what? I'm digressing again. Perhaps I'll go off and work on my favourite hobby. You know what it is, diary, you've seen me do it. I dare not discuss what it is here, some student might find you.

Damn. They'd know about the sparkly pink ink then. I AM NOT A SHE-MALE!

~

September 26

Diary,

I've found the most wonderful place to vacation during the Christmas holidays this year: Tibet. Far from the noise of the students, far from that fat, middle-aged, foul excuse for a human being let alone a witch, Umbridge. Far from Potter and his annoyingly marginal Potions work, far from Granger and her Way-Too-Perfect Potions work. But for now I'll focus on the benefits of Tibet, not Potter. I can rant about him later.

Yup. Tibet. Happiest place on Earth as far as I am concerned. Nice and free of students. It'll just be me, the mountains, the yaks, and the occasional Buddhist Monk. Oh and Sirius Black. It was rumoured that he is currently hiding there. Ha! People are such morons.

Such as me and my stupid digressions. Tibet seems to cause those digressions. Maybe I'll make a list of things that cause digressions so I can avoid thinking about them:

*Umbridge

*Potter, Jr.

*Potter, Sr.

*Black

*Mrs. Fluffles

*Tibet

*Granger

*knitting

KNITTING? WHERE THE HELL DID THAT COME FROM??? Stupid diary.

Stupid Severus.

Well that's out. Now at least I can talk about it. Stupid Granger. It's her fault that I knit anyways.

Yes. That's it. Her fault. Not mine. Not my fault she accidentally slipped an instructional pamphlet on knitting into one of her essays. Not my fault I happened to read it. Not my fault I have a fascination with anything that has to do with pointy objects...

So know I shall relate my tale. It shall be called: My Love Affair With Pointy Objects by Severus Snape. No, that's too mushy. Forget the title.

It started one evening whilst I was grading, of course, the fifth-year summer homework essays. I picked up Miss Granger's paper and noticed that it was a little thicker than usual. I just assumed that she thought she'd do as much as humanly possible to research more powerful Sleeping Potions as a preparation for the OWLs, and that I would be in for a long night.

I was wrong.

The stress of studying for a set of exams a bit less than a year off must be getting to her. She had rolled her instructional pamphlet on knitting into her essay (which, by the way, was seven feet longer than I had asked for). Sometimes I pity poor Hermione, the only people even close to her intellect at least twice her age. She'll have a hell of a time having a deep philosophical conversation on the deep philosophical meaning of life with the shallow, un-philosophical boyfriend of hers, Weasley. She deserves better.

I thought you said she was with Potter???

Oh. Right. She's with Potter.

What does it matter who she's with??? It's not like I'm married to her.

I'm not going to say anything...

You just did, dimwit. I don't see why you would though...

Am I not the world's most insecure person? Hiding all my secrets from the world for fear they'd either kill me or, worse, make fun of me?

Nah, that'd have to be Potter. I know some of his secrets, and those, I sense, are just the surface of what his mind's like deeper in. God. Can I just stop thinking about Potter? What was I writing about anyways?

Knitting.

Oh, right. So I took the pamphlet and read it. Hey, it was a reason to put off reading Hermione's immensely boring and information-laden essay. So I read the whole thing. Twice. It was just so... interesting. The next day, I went on a field trip to Hogsmeade, bought a pair of needles and a ball of yarn (the finest quality lambs wool, I might add), and started knitting as soon as I got back to my private quarters and performed an extremely difficult locking charm on the doors. Hey, I don't want any students, or worse, fellow Death Eaters to know about my little hobby.

That's what you said when you took up dressing in sparkly pink minidresses and singing Aretha Franklin, but they just made you perform at functions when they found out. And knitting is far less embarrassing.

God Damn It All. Why'd you have to say that? No one but the Death Eaters was supposed to know that. Hell, they weren't supposed to know.

Anyways, the long and short of How I Learned How To Knit is that well, I learned how to knit and I mastered it, and now all my beakers have lambs wool cosies. And Mrs. Fluffles has a new hobby as well.

I just read that whole entry and realized three things:

* I am hopelessly girly.

*I thought up a title for my little anecdote on the beginning of my fascination with knitting

*I called that Granger Mudblood Hermione.

Sevvie and 'Mione, sitting in a-

GAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I think I'll go jump it the lake now.

By the way, where'd you come up with those nicknames?

Your head. Remember how I work? I manifest the IMPORTANT thoughts that you dare not write onto my pages.

Oh. Right.

Good night.