[Prof. Umbridge] Chapteer 43

"Well then," said Marina Nikolaevna, patting a stack of manuscripts bound with a red cord and sealed with Ministry stamps. "Approved, certified, and stamped. Copies have been left at the Ministry, ready for printing. Though, as you accurately pointed out, that won't be a quick process."

"And what do you suggest?" Snape asked, picking up the top folder and running a hand over its worn cover almost affectionately.

"It's simple," she replied. "Luckily, your handwriting is legible..."

"In my field, illegible handwriting is a direct path to a hospital bed—at best."

"Letty," Marina Nikolaevna called. "Come here. Can you read what's written here?"

"Of course, ma’am!" squeaked the house-elf.

"And could you transfer the text to a clean page, printed like it would be in a book?"

"Letty can do that," the elf replied indignantly. "The old master often made Letty write down his dictations, and that was much harder!"

"Then take this... and get started," Marina Nikolaevna instructed. "Make sure the text is on both sides of the page, like in a book."

"Muggle paper?" Snape squinted at the thick stack in its branded wrapper.

"What does it matter? It’s good, thick, high-quality paper. Not glossy, of course, but it looks decent and costs a fraction of what it does here. Plus, you can choose the format," she answered seriously. "You’ll need to make sure Letty copies the text correctly."

The sight was fascinating: under the house-elf's tiny hand, the written words seemed to double, then peel off the parchment and float like a swarm of black flies to the sheet of paper. Following Letty’s gestures, they transformed midair and landed as printed letters.

"Yes, it's accurate," Snape said after scanning the first chapter.

"How long will it take you to copy all seven folders like this?" Marina Nikolaevna asked.

"Letty needs... an hour," the elf said thoughtfully. "Maybe a little more. Or maybe less, once Letty gets used to reading the handwriting quickly. But diagrams and drawings take longer..."

"That’s fine. Don’t rush. If you can’t decipher something, leave it and clarify later."

Marina Nikolaevna turned to Snape. "You’ll need to carefully proofread the results to avoid any typos," she said seriously. "I suspect typos could also be a direct path to a hospital bed!"

"That’s certain," Snape said, his gaze fixed on the growing pile of pages. "But… having a printing press in one’s own office! What a thing!"

"Self-publishing," Marina Nikolaevna smiled.

"And after my review, I presume you’ll use a duplication spell?" Snape inquired.

"Exactly. We can involve other house-elves as well. As for the covers, we could at least make them from cardboard, even without designs—" She paused. "Severus! What diagrams and drawings?! The old textbooks didn’t have anything like that... What on earth?!"

No one had likely ever seen Professor Snape laughing before. He could smirk, grin, or scoff, but this... this was genuine, heartfelt laughter, bordering on outright hilarity.

"Did you even look inside, Dolores?" he managed to say, gasping between fits of laughter.

"I... I only saw the first few chapters," Marina Nikolaevna replied, her face flushing. She realized she was either going to die of embarrassment or murder someone—someone very specific. "What do I have to do with the school potions curriculum? You said you simply corrected the recipes, and... And I trusted the reviews from the competent Auror Office and St. Mungo's specialists, which were all glowing!"

"Of course they were glowing," Snape said, regaining some composure. "I spent years refining this material. For your information, I based it on the Auror Academy's curriculum. It’s no surprise they had a positive response."

"You know, Severus, this is downright outrageous," she said darkly, picking up the fifth-year manual and flipping through it. Half the potions listed she couldn’t recall even by name. "You thought if you told me the truth, I’d refuse to participate in this scheme? So you chose to pull off this con, knowing full well I don’t remember the school curriculum very well anymore but trust your qualifications and wouldn’t double-check the recipes myself? And that external reviewers, unsuspecting, would assess the new textbooks as entirely new, not just enhanced versions of the old ones?"

Snape remained silent, the smile fading from his face.

"Dolores," he finally said quietly. "I understand... what I did was... Foolish. Very foolish. But I couldn’t let this opportunity slip by! And I wasn’t certain you’d agree to this 'scheme,' as you put it... Do you want me to apologize?"

"No. It would be insincere—you don’t feel a shred of remorse; I can see that clearly."

"Then... should I compensate you for the costs?"

"Of course you will," she said coldly. "The cost of materials has already been deducted from your salary. Be thankful I don’t charge you for Letty’s labor; she’d be offended."

"Would you like some luck potions? I have a stock."

"I don’t want anything, Severus," she said wearily. "It’s just... after all our joint escapades—you called them that yourself, remember?—I thought I could expect a modicum of trust from you, not this... betrayal! Did you even consider how I’d face the Minister if he started asking about the new curriculum and I knew nothing of how much it had changed?"

"Well..."

"Yes, yes, I should have cross-checked everything down to the last comma. I know. My fault for trusting and not verifying."

An awkward silence fell, broken only by the rustle of pages and Letty's quiet muttering.

Snape watched the house-elf in silence, and there was something familiar in his expression that caught Marina Nikolaevna’s attention.

Ah, yes...

A memory surfaced of Dolores as a schoolgirl: the Slytherin common room, dim and spacious, filled with a low hum of voices—it wasn’t proper to be noisy here. She sat curled up in a large armchair in the corner, cramming Transfiguration, because Professor McGonagall was monstrously strict, especially with Slytherins, and Dolores was determined to earn top marks.

Nearby, the Head of House, not yet as bald or stout as he would become, conversed with upperclassmen. Today was a Slug Club meeting, and someone was running late.

"Sir, may I ask something?" a lanky, black-haired teenager interrupted. He was two years ahead of Dolores, and she instinctively avoided him, as did many others. After all, there had been... incidents.

"Yes, yes, what is it?" Slughorn asked amiably.

"About today’s lesson, sir... I tried altering the preparation order slightly. Here, take a look..."

He held a battered textbook covered with scribbles.

"Tut-tut, such a way to treat books!" Slughorn shook his head, glanced briefly at the modified recipe, and turned away. "How curious. Very interesting, but... Young man, when you become a Potions Master, you may alter recipes. For now, follow the instructions as written... Oh, Jason, my boy, what kept you?"

"Prefect duties, sir," Jason explained.

"Of course, I understand! Now, let’s go."

The club members rose, surrounded the professor, and left the common room, chatting cheerfully about the meeting ahead. Left behind, Snape stood with his marked-up book, watching them leave. The enthusiasm in his eyes faded, replaced by a cold, empty stare—the very same look Marina Nikolaevna now saw in him.

Then, raising his chin, he walked toward the dormitories, clutching the book tightly to his chest. Dolores instinctively shielded herself with her own textbook, avoiding any chance of meeting Snape's gaze—she was afraid of him.

“Severus,” Marina Nikolaevna called out, “how about making a fancier cover?”

“What?” He seemed to snap out of deep thought.

“I’m saying, let’s design a luxurious cover,” she repeated. “And on the inner flap, in bold letters: Approved and recommended by the Ministry of Magic, endorsed by Auror specialists, and validated by the St. Mungo’s Expert Council. We can copy their letters and include them as appendices for credibility. Or better yet, in the introduction.”

“Are you joking?”

“Partly,” Marina Nikolaevna admitted without hesitation. “I won’t forgive you for your stunt—don’t even dream of it. But grievances aside, we have work to do!”

“Dolores…”

“Revenge is best served cold, but you let yours freeze over so much that you had to heat it up in a hurry, didn’t you?” she interrupted him.

“Yeah, I wasted a few nights rewriting recipes in two versions—one for standard cauldrons and one for smaller ones,” he muttered.

“Then spend another day checking the books today,” she instructed. “By tomorrow morning, everyone should have their own copy! House-elves can distribute them during breakfast in the Great Hall. What do you think?”

“Bold,” he said after a moment’s thought.

“Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Maybe. But as usual, I’ve ruined it,” he replied earnestly. After a pause, he added, “In my introductory speech to first-years, I always say that I can teach them how to bottle fame, brew glory, and stop death. I really can. But despite all that, I barely understand people.”

“And when would you have had the chance to learn?” Marina Nikolaevna sighed. “You’ve been holed up in Hogwarts for years! Except for conferences, potion tournaments, and… ahem… visits to the Dark Lord? I doubt there was much time for polite socializing there, either.”

“Exactly. And besides…” Snape trailed off before continuing, “I don’t want to get entangled in interpersonal subtleties. If you only knew how much Order meetings irritate me! Molly Weasley prattling on about her older kids, complaining about the younger ones, questioning everyone… The others aren’t much better—take Fletcher, for instance. And as if tea couldn’t be drunk at home!”

“Yes, yes, they drank tea and discussed trivialities while their lives were falling apart,” she muttered, recalling a classic line. “Don’t justify yourself, Severus, you don’t need to. Just don’t do anything like this again, I’m begging you! You know what lies ahead for us, and if you pull a stunt like this…”

“That’s no laughing matter,” he said solemnly. “What’s at stake isn’t just a textbook or my little act of petty vengeance, but lives—many lives.”

“Then let’s get to work,” she nodded and waved her wand. “I’ve already designed the cover. What do you think of this?”

“I think it’s perfect,” Snape admitted honestly. After a moment’s thought, he added, “I’ll make it up to you. Do you know how to send a Patronus with a message?”

“I don’t.”

“I’ll teach you. It’s not hard.”

____________________________________________

"Potions. First Year," declared the dull silver title on the black cover. Above it, the author’s name stood proudly: “S. T. Snape.” Inside the flap, just as planned, was: “Approved… Approved… Recommended…”

“Using my traditional first-year speech instead of a foreword is too much,” Snape had protested the night before, firmly rejecting the idea. “What, will I have to come up with a new one every year? I’m not the Sorting Hat; I don’t have that much free time!”

“Then write a short introduction,” Marina Nikolaevna insisted.

“For all seven books? Right now?”

“Yes,” she said firmly, shoving a quill into his hand. “Keep it brief—half a page. State the course objectives and goals; you’ll know what to include better than anyone else. And if you need a pick-me-up, Letty will make coffee.”

“That would help,” he agreed, settling at her desk.

Of course, he didn’t stick to just half a page.

“Severus, could you at least simplify it for the first-years?” Marina Nikolaevna frowned after reading his drafts. “They’ll be terrified!”

“If they’re imbeciles, let them be terrified,” he replied bluntly. “But I still expect their intelligence to be slightly above zero. More coffee?”

“Of course. Letty, some coffee for both of us—stronger this time,” she said, stifling a yawn as she stared at the text again. “Listen, at least cut this section. Even I can’t process it in one go; it’s mind-numbing!”

“You’re just overly tired,” he said cheekily, snatching the paper back. He grudgingly crossed out a few lines and made some adjustments. “Better now?”

“Well, at least it’s easier to read,” she relented. “Alright… I think we’ll include copies of your handwritten drafts as an introduction. Adds a sense of gravitas. And sign them—your signature is elegant.”

“I spent a long time perfecting it,” he smirked. “I do have a flair for a bit of drama.”

“I imagine that trait wouldn’t have served you well ten years ago,” she remarked.

“Why do you think so?”

“Because I remember what you were like in your senior years. And considering you started teaching when… what, you were barely over twenty? The older students must have remembered you as just another classmate. Add a flair for drama to that…” She trailed off with a wry smile. “Your already prickly personality must’ve taken a turn for the worse.”

“Undeniably,” he agreed, glancing at the prepared books. “But the flair for drama hasn’t gone anywhere. Which is why I’ll add a noble ivory tint to the paper and a black edge to the pages.”

“You might as well put your proud profile on the spine and add a double ouroboros to the cover,” she teased, sketching a figure-eight formed by two snakes swallowing each other’s tails. “For extra mystique. Infinity, wisdom—it even mirrors your initials.”

“Then the Gryffindors will handle this textbook with dragon-hide gloves and fireplace tongs,” he said with mock seriousness. But he couldn’t resist adding, “No profile, but the ouroboros… Yes, that looks good! Especially if one snake is darker.”

“Almost like in that book by Ende, except his was an oval,” she nodded approvingly. “And I’ll enchant the pages to repel water and dirt. Remember how Abercrombie said he was afraid of ruining the book?”

“Brilliant idea,” Snape approved. “But leave the ability to make notes. Oh, and let’s ward against tearing, burning, or soaking—I know spells for that.”

“From where?”

“The Dark Lord used them on his diary,” he explained. “I mentioned it when we discussed Horcruxes…”

“Letty, can you replicate such spells?” Marina Nikolaevna asked.

“Of course, Letty can do that,” the house-elf replied eagerly.

“Start then,” she instructed. “Here’s a list of how many copies are needed for each year, plus extras for the library. And call someone to help—you shouldn’t do it alone.”

“This is easy work, ma’am. Letty will do it all herself,” the house-elf said stubbornly. “It would take too long to explain it to others!”

“Fair enough. If you want something done right, do it yourself,” Snape remarked seriously. “Funny, though—why didn’t anyone think of this before? Granted, not every book can be copied so simply, but for a school textbook…”

"I suspect the local printing presses operate similarly," Marina Nikolaevna replied, "or perhaps they enchant the printing presses somehow. I doubt house-elves work there... Either way, you have to maintain the equipment, pay the staff, rent the premises, plus taxes... The print runs are relatively small, and the expenses are high, which makes the prices for books, in my opinion, completely unreasonable compared to Muggle ones. It's one thing if it's some sort of grimoires, scary to even touch and existing in two or three copies, but textbooks?"

"Such is the peculiarity of our world," Snape shrugged, flipping through the book with evident satisfaction.

Marina Nikolaevna recalled how, back in the '90s, when there weren't enough textbooks for an entire class, people managed somehow: the library would have a few, some managed to buy their own, others used workplace photocopiers. Those who couldn't get a copy made do with printouts. And yet they survived! Here, with all the magical possibilities... Marina Nikolaevna even checked whether standard textbooks were protected from unauthorized copying—but no! Clearly, wizards hadn't thought of this simple way to cut costs, although someone like Mrs. Weasley, with her seven children, certainly could have used it...

"Ma’am! Ma’am!" Lety, the house-elf, suddenly called out, and Marina Nikolaevna turned around. The elf was barely visible behind a stack of books. "Can Letty ask a question?"

"Of course."

"Why do first-years only get a textbook for the first year? They'll be in the second year next year! And why don't second-years need a book for the first year? How will they review?"

Marina Nikolaevna exchanged glances with Snape.

"Logical," he said after a pause.

"Do sixth- and seventh-year textbooks go to everyone too? Few students take advanced potions," Marina Nikolaevna reminded him.

"Let's do this: books for the first five years go to everyone, and full sets to the upper years," Snape decided, then quickly added, "Will we have enough paper?"

"I bought extra, but not that much..."

"Lety can fetch more!"

"You mean steal from Muggles?" Marina Nikolaevna frowned. "No, that's not happening. It's too late to go myself; everything's closed. Keep working, and if we run out, you’ll go to the shop where I bought the paper. Take what’s needed and leave the money in the till. Luckily, I have some Muggle money with me—hopefully, it’s enough..."

In the end, they only needed five more packs of paper, and Lety quickly popped to the shop and back.

"All ready, Ma’am!" the elf said proudly a quarter of an hour later, surveying the stacks of books that now crowded Marina Nikolaevna’s office.

"Well done, Lety," Marina Nikolaevna praised her warmly. "Take a rest! And we," she turned to Snape, "should probably test a few random books for water resistance, fireproofing, and tear resistance, hmm?"

"Of course," Snape replied, smirking. "At this rate, they’ll be able to deflect Unforgivables..."

"Imagine: an Auror in battle, carrying a book authored by S.T. Snape close to their heart..." she grinned. "Muggle soldiers carried medallions, photos, even poetry books in their breast pockets. Some were even saved by them."

"Are you suggesting adding shielding charms?" he asked dryly.

"No, that would be overkill... Let’s push through—just one final effort! Otherwise, tomorrow you’ll be falling asleep on your feet and won’t even enjoy your little revenge..."

"Why not? I could take something invigorating," Snape retorted reasonably. "I’ll send some to you too. Coffee is wonderful, but not in such quantities."

_______________________________________________

The Great Hall breakfast was proceeding as usual, with prefects beginning to glance at the clock, urging their charges to hurry up, when suddenly, stacks of books began appearing in front of every student.

As Marina Nikolaevna had come to understand, Snape had a flair for theatrics of the most insidious sort.

"What’s this?" Slughorn asked in surprise when books materialized in front of him too. "Er... What is the meaning of this?"

"These are textbooks for the curriculum, approved and certified by the Ministry," Marina Nikolaevna replied with a sugary smile. "Your personal set, Professor Slughorn."

"But... mnnh..." Slughorn muttered, eyeing the black covers warily. "This is... unexpected."

"Regrettably," Snape spoke up from the other end of the staff table, "I had been preparing new textbooks for this academic year, anticipating that I would continue teaching Potions. But the Ministry," he shot a glance at Marina Nikolaevna, "as usual, delayed until the last moment..."

"I told you, Professor Snape, that the Ministry is preoccupied with far more pressing matters," she retorted sharply. "The fact that the print run was delayed by only a few days is the least of your concerns! After all, what difference does it make to you now?"

"You think I spent all that time and effort on—" he gestured at the stack of books, "—on agreements and this accursed bureaucracy for nothing?!"

"Severus, a little decorum, if you please," Flitwick interjected gently. "We all know bureaucracy in skilled hands is a fearsome weapon. That you confronted it unprepared is hardly the fault of the delightful Dolores! It’s like sending a babe to duel—you-know-who: the child might succeed, but only one time in a million!"

Marina Nikolaevna nearly choked on her tea. Once again, she marveled at the likelihood of trolls in the Ravenclaw Head's ancestry.

"Sir," said Fred, the auror-related inscriptions on his forehead still faintly visible despite the twins’ best efforts to remove them—they had only faded slightly.

"Sir," George echoed, "could we have your autograph?"

"It’s already in the books," Snape replied curtly, attempting to pass by. But the twins moved to block his path, standing shoulder to shoulder.

"Sir, a real one..."

"...with a personal dedication to us..."

"We’re not your best students, but we figured..."

"...it wouldn’t be too hard for you to sign..."

"...and in ten years, the first edition with your personal autograph will be worth a fortune!"

"You should have led with that," Snape said coolly. Taking the offered quill, he quickly scribbled a few lines on the blank side of the book’s flyleaf. "That’s enough for you. Now step aside and stop holding up the others!"

He exited, leaving the twins staring dumbfounded at the autograph.

"Yeah," Fred said, "I can feel it—this will be worth a lot of money someday."

"We’ll donate it to a museum—make a fortune," George agreed with a nod.

Marina Nikolaevna was tempted to ask what exactly Snape had written for them, but she had to get to her lesson with the second-years. She decided she’d ask Snape about it later, though naturally, she forgot all about it almost immediately...