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Severus Snape

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Headstrong, arrogant, stubborn. [27 Oct 2005|01:48pm]
Just like your father, Potter. He never valued his education either.
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Private Entry [07 Aug 2005|05:16am]
It is early in the morning. Too early. My dreams were plagued with images I would rather not know of, however deep they are buried in my mind, like a worm, festering and turning the soil of my thoughts.

I suppose I should've known I'd do this. This sitting down and staring at the screen, trying to think of something, anything, to write. In this one moment, where I am not bothered by the chore of having to mark essays or other tedious burdens, I cannot not focus on a single thought. I am grasping for a single thread of coherence and perception in the midst of a storm. I fear my sanity is leaving me, my mind is cluttered so. It leaves behind untouched dark waters of which I am weary of.

The newly appointed Headmaster is pleased with himself. He traipses about, his power evident in the way he looks at you, in the way he commands your attention as if it were his God-given right. Perhaps it is, if you were to consider the Dark Lord a God. The Dark Lord is almost merry as well. He is intoxicated with the death of Albus. Lucius is in the highest of favour at the current time; his plan has been executed so well.

I wonder now. I wonder which one of them murdered Albus Dumbledore.

Did they laugh when they did it? Was it the Dark Lord himself? Oh, to have known, to have been there, to have seen it. To have watched as they did away with the greatest wizard I have ever known. The only man who has ever defended me and forgiven me. I feel no sorrow. I can only perceive what I am feeling as neither sadness or happiness but dullness. I am trapped in between. Just as I am trapped in between these sides of good and evil. This is what it is, is it not? The good versus the evil. The right versus the wrong. However, like all wars, I am sure that neither side will win. There is no victory to be had in war. There is only suffering.

I have recently lost my sense of taste. Yesterday morning, seated in between Lucius and Hagrid (who refuses to even look at the man), I realized that I was chewing on a piece of soft, breakable rubber. Somehow, I had put scrambled eggs into my mouth and ended up with rubber. I took another mouthful. The same. Tasteless. For a moment, I was disconcerted. Had it happened gradually or had it just happened by itself? I could not tell. I excused myself and left the Great Hall. I dismissed it as something else I would have to deal with, like the Cruciatus curse. Something else to endure. It has become more than that, regardless of my handling of it, because there is now the need to remember that I need to eat.

It does not help that my thoughts are tangled and criss-crossing. A dark intruder has taken shelter in my mind and during the night he eats away at my memory, scarring it so that when I wake in the morning, I am remembering the days of my youth instead of the day before. Not only that, but I experience strange dreams. They are shattered and meaningless, but leave me in a shuddering mess when I awake in the middle of the night, sweating and uncomfortably aware of my own fear. It is not that I fear the dreams, but my mind. I fear my mind is falling apart. My loss of taste, I blame, on potions. I tried to avoid the dreams by taking Dreamless Sleep potions. The answer is simple: the after-effects of taking the potion too many times. I blame myself. I should have realized that it would effect me in some way.

I am to be summoned soon, I am sure. The last I saw of the Dark Lord and his followers, celebrating the death of Dumbledore, I was nauseated by the smell of death on them. I can smell it on their bodies, hands and in their hair. It does not matter however expensive, however fragrant the perfume is that they wear. It is a stench that cannot be done away with and though I scrub my hands raw, it is on my hands as well. Perhaps I should continue with the over-dosage of Dreamless Sleep potions. I may, if I am lucky, lose my sense of smell as well.

Attn: Lupin [21 Jul 2005|11:48pm]
I have your potion.
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A Potion Master's words. [17 May 2005|01:58pm]
May has arrived quickly with weather I despise. Numerous cooling spells have been administered on the dungeons, as I found that there was a great deal of humidity in the air. I now know, however, that the humidity was due to the swamp that was created in the Slytherin Common Room by Millicent Bulstrode. It was a failure, on my part, to notice this as I have been busy with other things. Though, it must not have been that bad since no student came to me to complain, and as such, the swamp was not done away with earlier.

Regardless, I am not surprised that one of the "Golden Trio" was behind the entire matter of the house elves' strike. The three of them have been crossing lines and breaking school rules ever since they arrived at Hogwarts. Surely it is no shock that one of them alone is enough to cause this much trouble. Nevertheless, I find that I am disturbed by the lack of action the professors have taken. I realize that these students have their own personal fanclub, but is it wise to ignore such troublesome acts at Hogwarts?

Aside from the student's antics (or rather, their nervous breakdowns, Mr. Macmillan) at Hogwarts, there is not much to say here. Though, I must make a point, the Polyjuice Potion experiment involving the fifth years and the sixth years has been cancelled. And Lupin, your potion is with me, I'll be sending it to you by owl shortly.
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A complete waste of time. [15 Apr 2005|09:52pm]
There are far more important things to do than to travel half way around the world because a cerebrally-challenged boy who had a nightmare told you to. I would think we would double-check the information; however, I seem to be the only one who has entertained this idea.

A note to Mr. Potter: Your Remedial Potions will be Monday evening at eight o'clock. Do not be late.
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Attention. [06 Apr 2005|06:13pm]
Mr. Goyle.

Be in my office within the next five minutes or I add to the already capacious list of your punishments. I wish to show you exactly what I think of unutterably naive misdemeanants who take the work of graduated students and re-use it. There is no excuse for laziness and you will learn that, dullard.

To all professors, any recent unusually well-written works of Gregory Goyle's are to be cast aside as they are not what they seem.
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One of Salazar's Chosen. [22 Mar 2005|06:44pm]
Private Entry

A student is dead.

She wasn't a Gryffindor, a Ravenclaw, or even a Hufflepuff. She was a Slytherin.

Daphne Greengrass was one of my Slytherins.

I have my suspicions. It is no big secret what turmoil our world is in. I had expected something similar like this to happen, but never, never, did I expect something such as this to happen. When the Headmaster imparted the news upon me, I did not think I could control myself. Only a few days ago, I was in the presence of the Dark Lord. Why was I not informed?

If I had listened harder to the hushed conversations the Dark Lord shared with the other death eaters, if I had given the Dark Lord that potion when he had asked for it instead of pretending that I could not brew it, I might have known. If, if, if. There is nothing certain. But I still imagine I might have been able to prevent this tragedy. It is too late now, but I must type this as it is what I truly believe. I could have prevented this.

And I think, that this, not being aware of something I should have been aware of, somehow, is the greatest crime I could have committed in this case. Daphne Greengrass's death, is perhaps, my punishment.

I thought that the Slytherins, for the most part, would go unharmed. She was just a girl. What did her death gain? And for who?

I did not see Mr. Nott until just now. He disapeared after the meeting. For a brief moment, during dinner this evening, I feared that he had somehow escaped the school and gone off to avenge the girl's death. I do not blame him. Though I would have given my teeth to avoid attending the meal this evening, I am rather relieved that Mr. Nott is still within Hogwarts. The meal was nearing unbearable once the Headmaster announced the girl's death. The House of Slytherin has been plunged into mourning. My house. The house I least expected.

I must gather my thoughts. I should be used to death by now.

I must find that last inch of control that I seem to always be able to obtain so easily in my career, and fulfill my last duties as Daphne Greegrasses Head of House. I must have her bed removed from the dormitory, the sheets taken to the laundry - a house elf can be instructed to do so. I must send my condolences to the girl's parents as required. Any belongings Greengrass left behind must be gathered. I do not even know if the girl had any pets. I do not know if I should even talk to my house.

Even while I am forcing myself to do my duties, the following words will be resounding in my mind over and over again.

One of my Slytherins is dead, and I do not know why.

Now. [19 Mar 2005|02:27pm]
As I will be attending the Quidditch match, I do not wish to be dissapointed.

I expect a victory, Slytherin.
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There is nothing nice about bright colours. [12 Mar 2005|09:12pm]
I do not wish to describe the colour and sheer brightness of my colleague's clothes. I do not wish to even describe my own, seeing as I was forced to wear them. The late birthday celebration was a surprise, I admit, however there are some who simply cannot be seen in anything but black and brown.

In any case, I cannot help but point out my colleague's ridiculous behaviour once they were under the influence of the alcoholic punch. While I am surprised that I did not see a Sirius Black so drunk that he could not walk straight, I am not surprised as to the gifts I received. Books, a bathrobe, a pair of strangely furry slippers and a blender (none of which were given to me by Black, him being the bum that he is, not that I mind). Do not ask me what I am supposed to do with a blender.

As for Professor Sinistra, you behaved the way you did because you were under the influence of alcohol. If you wish, it can never be mentioned again though I do not think that will stop the old birds gossiping in the teacher's lounge. But as far as I am concerned, it never happened. It was highly embarrassing and I do not think you are entirely happy about it either.

The news of Peter Pettigrew escaping is distressing to say the least but no big shock if one remembers the many Ministry Of Magic blunders in the past. If anything, we can be glad that Pettigrew is little more than a mental patient. He was nothing more than a baby as I rem



I must go. There is somewhere I need to be.

Headmaster, could you please have Hagrid waiting for me. I may need help.
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This chore must be done. [14 Feb 2005|07:40pm]
If I do find out who the culprit behind those ridiculously pink valentines is, I will not refrain from force-feeding said person a most painful poison. One can tire easily of these cards when you suddenly find your ears being assaulted by the soppy lyrics that suddenly echo around your classroom without warning when a first year bumps their bag and it opens accidentally.

I found that confiscating the horrid things did not bring any sense of relief because as soon as I held them, I was unable to shut the damn things. A clever charm to have it so that when a teacher held the card, he or she would be unable to close it, though it is annoying to no end. I am sure that I have had to cast the Reducto more than once on the horrid things.

While the valentines are odd enough for Hogwarts, though I have a feeling Hogwarts is never not odd (the name of this school is an adequate example) the creatures of the lake outside are partaking in activities that I did not know they were capable, let alone think of. It is highly disconcerting to see one of the Giant Squid's tentacles making a slow beeline for you while you are returning from the Greenhouses from which you were retrieving the plants, belladonna and hellebore. The third years will find their belladonna oddly damp, for I had to wrestle the arm that held it away from one of the squid's gigantic tentacles.

Sex Ed. was not in my contract. I am a Potions Master. The most I will teach my students is how to brew a contraceptive potion. That is all. I refuse to work with Professor Black simply because he is a flea-infested, deranged, intolerable prat. That, and the fact I am the wiser one here because I happen to know that none of the students actually need Sex Ed. They certainly would not be having no trouble going up in front of a class talking about the activity without a few of them blushing madly and/or blabbering or mumbling. I am sure I heard one student mutter under his breath that this would be "a piece of cake." I rest my case.

Before I am to finish this chore that I must complete, I must express my surprise at the quality of some of the Potions work that my sixth year Slytherins are handing in and the overall lack of enthusiasm. While I don't expect anyone to be jumping for joy at the prospect of work, it is far more noticeable in certain individuals. I will not reveal any names, but I must make it clear - if your work does not improve by the end of next week (for I shall be issuing a new piece of work) you will be seeing me.
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As I am forced to do this. [12 Jan 2005|05:54pm]
I have had the somewhat unwanted pleasure of meeting the career counselor. He decided to introduce himself to me when I was walking to my next class, successfully making me late for my own lesson. Who does he think he is strutting around as if he were a golden-clad peacock? All his 'charms' on display for the world to see. A disgusting show of indolent, misplaced pride and arrogance. I have watched most of the female population at Hogwarts avoid him as if he radiates the very essence of repulsiveness and that they are afraid they will contract his disease.

If he thought I would stand there and listen to him blabber on about his escapades in the most intriguing career of telling brats what they should do with their pathetic lives, more the fool he. If not for the fact that his eyes were on me for two seconds before than wandering off and following a seventh year girl, I might have actually bothered to say goodbye - but as he was too busy looking at the next girl that came along - I saw fit to leave him to what he seems to do best.

Complaints have reached my ear of the Quidditch Pitch being booked by the Slytherins. As the Head of Slytherin, I am obliged to make sure Slytherin's team has the adequate amount of time needed to train. Mr. Smith, if you approach me again, complaining of my ... "hogging the pitch," you will find yourself in detention and I assure you, I will do my best to take away your most prestigious title of Head Boy. You may think that you rule the school because of this title, but as far as I am concerned - you are just another whining, irritating student. This is my final word.
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Private Entry [24 Dec 2004|11:50am]
There is only one thing that can dent the Christmas spirit, though I doubt I have ever experienced such a thing. And that is, killing someone. Or something.

I saw him again coming down from the Owlery. No one was nearby, so I confronted him. I told him that I knew what he was, and I wanted to know why he was in Hogwarts. There followed a conversation of him avoiding my questions and pretending he didn't know what I was talking about. When I asked him to remove his gloves, he began to panic. He became careless. He didn't notice me examining his teeth. The fool.

The first time I moved to knock him down, he stopped me. His reflexes were lightning fast. Too fast for a human. It only cemented my suspicions of what he was. Delano L. Waitrose was a vampire. A very old one. He jumped away from me like nothing I had ever seen before. He clung to the ceiling, baring his teeth at me like an animal. I took out my wand and sent a stunning spell at him. It bounced off his shoulder. I sent another curse at him. Dark Arts. He did not expect it and it hit his arm. The curse left a deep burn.

He dissapeared for a time, hiding in the shadows I suspect. I saw flashes of him as he moved across the walls. Mr. Waitrose was injured. He could not keep up the stealth for long. At least, this is what I hoped. He knocked me to the ground when I wasn't expecting it, but I was able to send the same curse at him again. He melted away again. I had the time needed to right myself and be ready for him.

He launched himself at me from the shadows again. He took ahold of my shoulders. He was immeasurably strong. He drove his teeth into my neck. I can assume that since Mr. Waitrose was an old vampire, it took him longer than any other to die. I suppose it was smart of me to take a potion that would make my blood poisonous to vampires before I went searching for him. I will have a scar on my neck now, but that can be hidden easily.

He seemed to freeze against me, still clutching my shoulders with his claw-like hands - as if making to bite me - before he began to deteriorate before my eyes. He turned to ashes.

I scattered the ashes and left.

There is no need for Dumbledore to know. I am quite sure that only a select few ever knew of or saw Mr. Waitrose.

He will not be missed.

I returned to my quarters only to find that I have recieved strangely sugary gingerbread men and a disgustingly bright flower-printed bathrobe from two of my students.

Private Entry [28 Nov 2004|12:24pm]
Before I inform Dumbledore of what I have discovered, I must record it here - for later reflection and perhaps simply to clear my mind. I have found that writing my memories here are somewhat more clearing than extracting it from my mind and placing it in a pensieve.

I have returned from another Death Eater meeting. The Dark Lord grows ever stronger, the alliance of the Dementors increasingly threatening. Dumbledore approached me not long ago, asking me again if I would risk my life to go undercover for him. As always, I agreed.

The Death Eaters gathered with the Dark Lord in another location I cannot begin to describe because of the fact that I could see no outside. The Dark Lord always chooses different locations. This time it was a rather run down room with shredded cloth on the floor and cracks in the ceiling. What little windows there were, had their shutters closed. The only light was a single candle. The Dark Lord sat in a thread bare chair, the velvet covering dusty and old.

To describe the Dark Lord would be like describing the feeling of finding out that the world is ending. He is a shell of a man, a creature living within the guise of a man. He no longer is skeletally thin, but growing - growing in strength and size. He is not the weak little thing he was in his death-like state.

Slowly, Death Eaters arrived. Once we were all there, the space in which - I assume, Pettigrew - would be was left empty. We quickly filled it up by making the circle smaller. Now there are around twenty and above of us. I am not sure how some of the new recruits came to be with us, but I am not sure of all of their identities. The white masks we wear are successful in keeping most of our identity secret.

A Death Eater stepped forward, the one next to me. I knew who it was from his poise.

"How goes our plan, Malfoy?" The Dark Lord's voice addressed the eldest Malfoy with a threatening hiss of a voice. His red eyes gleamed - only telling me that Lucius Malfoy was about to reveal something great to the Dark Lord.

I could also tell that Lucius Malfoy was extremely smug about the following.

"Splendid, My Lord. The plan goes as according to what we discussed. Those that are under my influence at the Ministry of Magic are slowly becoming accustomed to the idea of me being the Minister of Magic. When I do become the Minister, it will only be some time before I fire that old fool Dumbledore and appoint myself as the Headmaster of Hogwarts."

Lucius stepped back from where he stood, regaining his position in the circle.

Silence followed after Lucius's words, a sinister smile slowly creeping across He Who Must Not Be Named's face - only increasing his already grotesque features. He slowly began to laugh, his high pitched cackle echoing through the silence of the room.

Shortly after that, the meeting dispersed. I talked with Lucius for a short amount of time, deducting that he was very happy with the arrangement. I am not surprised, he is as power hungry as the Dark Lord himself.

Now I must go inform Dumbledore of the new developments.

It has also come to my attention that Black is back. I have no time for his childishness anymore. The next time he attacks me, be it verbal or physically - I will not hold back.

Lupin [24 Nov 2004|09:39pm]
The potion has been left on your desk.
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A exam. [14 Nov 2004|05:10pm]
There is to be a Potions exam on the 20th of November. Under no circumstances whatsoever is a student to be absent.

You will be asked to brew three potions that you yourself will select from a list. Once this is completed, you will hand a sample of each to me and commence in composing an essay reciting the effects and uses of said potions.
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Mr. Peccato [30 Oct 2004|10:25pm]
Your father has sent me a letter by owl.

You are to be in my office within 5 minutes.
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Give me strength. [21 Oct 2004|10:16pm]
Mr. Nott.

Miss. Greengrass.

I sincerely hope you do not begin a trend.
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I am currently in the Hospital Wing. [19 Oct 2004|12:05pm]
Poppy has been so kind as to let me use her laptop, but has insisted that I use this voice mechanism device that types down the words as I say-- No, Poppy. Get off!

But, Severus! I haven't even healed your lung yet and--

Then hurry it up, woman! I don't have all day.

...

There, all done. Now, that wasn't so hard, was it Severus?

You're entirely too pompous for a school nurse, Poppy.

Oh shut up.

I am leaving.

No! Not before you type out what happened!

What? Don't--Stop! Stop prodding me with your wand, you little zealot! Don't look at me like that, Poppy, you know exactly what you're doing.

I found Nott and Corner in one of the more secluded hallways of Hogwarts. Nott had a bruised eye and was coughing up blood--Rather like you, Severu-- Shut up, Poppy. Corner was unconcious. I took Corner to the Hospital Wing and he is currently lying on a bed. Nott's father has been owled and Nott has spent his free time with Filch.

Right, I think that's enough for now, Severus. The Headmaster only wanted the bare--

I am leaving.
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Potions Homework Assignment. [06 Oct 2004|05:54am]

Clearly state the properties of the following herbs
Ginseng (China)
Wolfsbane
Gotu Kola (India)
Mullien


I would advise you all to use your textbook.

The Polyjuice potion, that all years have made, is almost ready and will be tested at a later date. Until then, no one is to go into Laboratory 32. The potions are at a delicate stage and anyone who disturbs them will be facing immediate expulsion.
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Ridiculous. [30 Sep 2004|11:37pm]
My journal was hacked. The culprit has not been caught.

Nevertheless, Mr. Zabini, don't be a smart alec.

I will not be requiring your muffins, Miss. Greengrass.

As for Mr. Peccato and Mr. Hunt, take you rhyming antics elsewhere.
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