[Prof. Umbridge] Chapter 40

"Quite the mess you've made!" Snape said bitterly, catching Marina Nikolaevna after her first lesson and dragging her into his new office. "Had to give the dungeons to Slughorn."

"Me? A mess? If you must know, they were about to suspend me from teaching without so much as a warning! Completely unacceptable! Are you telling me you didn't know about this either?"

"How would I? I was simply informed that I’d be teaching Defense, and our dear old Head of Slytherin would take over Potions. Naturally, I asked why you'd left Hogwarts, but the Headmaster only said you were summoned for Ministry matters."

"And you couldn't ask me directly? If Filch hadn’t warned me, I don’t know how I’d have managed to salvage the situation—although, come to think of it, I’d have found a way, but only by dragging the Minister into it, and that’s..."

"Dolores, believe it or not, I had bigger concerns," Snape said seriously. "Not only did I suddenly have this position thrust upon me, but I also had to scramble to put together a syllabus in under a week before the term began... Why are you smiling like that?"

"I think you might be the only one in this castle who’s ever had to say those words," she replied. "Go on, go on!"

"Anyway, the Dark Lord is furious. First, the Ministry debacle, and now Bellatrix has disappeared without a trace—along with Pettigrew!"

"Did they... interrogate you?" Marina Nikolaevna asked cautiously.

"Of course," Snape answered darkly. "But without the more extreme methods, if that's what you're asking. What could I possibly know? I was at home, brewing some potions for our comrades—some have breathing issues from Azkaban, others are crippled with back pain—"

"I thought wizards didn’t suffer from such ailments?"

"Not Muggle diseases, no. But untreated double pneumonia will kill a wizard just as effectively," Snape replied. "Anyway, I was occupied when Bellatrix suddenly appeared, demanding that Pettigrew come with her. When I asked why, she snapped that it was none of my business—she had orders from the Dark Lord. Who am I to question her? And that was that—no one has seen them since."

"No one at all?" Marina squinted skeptically.

"Well, of course, I managed to sniff out a clue, a few days later" Snape smirked. "Turns out old Fletcher let slip that he saw Bellatrix near Gringotts with Pettigrew. He told Dumbledore, and from there, it made its way back... When I reported this to the Dark Lord, Malfoy Manor narrowly avoided destruction. What am I supposed to do? It’s not my fault they don’t answer his summons. Wherever they’ve vanished to is beyond me. I suspect the Dark Lord will soon decide to check the vault at the bank himself."

"Well, we’ll see," Marina sighed. "Let’s talk about the schedule instead."

"Not now. We won’t sort it out during this break anyway—it requires proper consideration. I only have the seventh-years this week, and Slughorn can deal with the first-years; there’s no issue there. But Defense... that, we’ll need to divide the classes somehow as soon as possible."

"Maybe instead of dividing, we combine? At least for the practicals?"

"That would throw the rest of the staff into chaos," Snape shook his head and rubbed his temple. "Alright, we’ll figure it out. Where we can combine, we will; where it’s not possible, we’ll alternate. There aren’t that many Defense lessons scheduled anyway... But Potions—that’s trickier."

"Why?" Marina asked, puzzled.

"Because I only take students with 'Outstanding' on their OWLs for the advanced course, while Slughorn accepts 'Exceeds Expectations' as well," Snape explained. "For this year, my classes are already set, but moving forward..."

"Wait, but Slughorn is a good teacher—he taught both of us," she reminded him. "And if fifth-years manage high scores on their exams, what’s so bad about that? Or are you still against flooding the market with unneeded specialists?"

"That too. But," Snape said quietly, "passing the exam isn’t all that hard if there’s even a sliver of understanding. They don’t test difficult potions—just something mid-level—so earning an 'O' is quite feasible."

‘Fair enough... it’s like our national exams,’ Marina thought. ‘You can score highly even if you don’t really know much, as long as you’re well-drilled for the test.’

"And you want to assess how the student performed over the years?" she asked.

"Preferably. Periodic test results don’t mean much either—if you recall, Slughorn always graded a bit generously... especially for members of his club."

"For you, too?"

"No," Snape scoffed and turned away. "He didn’t like my ideas. I understand why—he was already getting on in years, dreaming of a quiet retirement, and then along comes a sixth-year with all these improvements! What could a boy like that possibly invent?"

"Did it sting?" Marina asked seriously.

"Yes," he admitted honestly. "But I did things my way regardless. Anyay, I got another thing... When I started moving into this classroom," Snape unexpectedly smirked and walked over to the desk, "I finally sorted through the cupboards."

"Didn’t want to leave anything valuable for Slughorn?"

"Valuable or not, there might have been things best kept from prying eyes," he said seriously. "After so many years, I might have forgotten something myself—and I had. Look at this."

"What is it?"

"My old sixth-year textbook," Snape said, holding up a battered book. "Take a look."

"May I?" she asked cautiously, taking the book in her hands.

The margins were crammed with annotations—ingredients crossed out and replaced, adjusted stirring sequences, revised brewing times...

"Sixth year..." Marina murmured, flipping through the densely written pages. "And all of this works?"

"Of course."

"Did it ever occur to you to propose revisions to this textbook? Or publish your own, for instance?"

"I’ve considered many things, Dolores," Snape replied darkly. "But... you know the saying about the elephant?"

"Which one?"

"Can an elephant eat a ton of bananas? Well, he can, but who’s going to give them to him?"

"I see..." she sighed. "First, you were too young to challenge the authorities, then you were too busy, and now you just don’t care anymore."

"Exactly," he agreed.

"But I think if you ever wanted to, finding a way wouldn’t be so hard," Marina hinted.

"I don’t see the point. I don’t train my advanced students by the book anyway. Seen enough? Then give it back—I’ll put it away. There’s more in there than recipes."

"Yes, I noticed," Marina said, catching a glimpse of spells scrawled in the margins. "And this..."

On the back was written: 'This book is the property of the Half-Blood Prince.' The handwriting was the same—small and precise.

"Give it back," Snape repeated sharply, taking the book from her.

"Your pseudonym?" she asked.

"Close," he hesitated, then reluctantly added, "It’s my mother’s surname."

"I’m sorry," she said sincerely.

"Nothing to apologize for."

An awkward silence followed.

"By the way, I keep meaning to ask—how are the reduced-capacity cauldrons working?"

"Not bad," Snape admitted, clearly relieved by the change in topic. "They meet the necessary standards, at least. Some adjustments will be needed, but they’ll do for schoolwork. However, Dolores, this idea will likely fade into obscurity—Slughorn won’t accept such innovations."

"Severus, please!" she sighed. "You’re speaking to the High Inquisitor here! And as soon as the Ministry approves the new standards for school equipment—which they will, once you provide your evaluation of the trials—our dear old professor will have no choice but to adapt."

"Bureaucracy truly is a great thing," Severus remarked earnestly, rummaging through his desk until he pulled out a folder. "Here. Though I wrote it in a rather freeform style, I believe it will suffice."

"It will suffice if it clearly outlines the advantages, drawbacks, and concludes on the suitability of this model for classroom use."

"Everything is there, including my suggestions for improvements," Snape assured. "Now then, the next lesson is about to start. I have seventh-years next..."

"One moment, Severus," Marina interrupted. "Regarding your advanced Potions classes... Here's an idea: OWL scores can stand on their own, but for admission to your class, students should pass an entrance exam conducted by you personally. Theory, practical work, perhaps even a creative task—whatever you deem fit. And if Slughorn wishes, he can assemble his class based purely on OWL results and personal preferences."

"I like this idea," Snape said after a pause.

"But then you'll have to arrange consultations and extracurricular lessons for fifth-years who decide to aim for advanced Potions," she warned. "Only a prodigy could pass your exam straight from Slughorn’s class, and I doubt Hogwarts is overflowing with geniuses!"

"That would be the lesser of evils," Snape replied seriously. "Remember what I told you during the training? If someone truly wants to learn..."

"They will make the effort," she finished. "So, we have the initial plan. We'll sort out the schedule later. And don’t forget, we’re meeting Ingebjorg tomorrow evening!"

Marina had already reached for the door handle when Snape called out to her:

"Dolores! If the Ministry approves a textbook under my editorial revision, Slughorn will have to use it, won’t he?"

"Of course. But are you prepared to revise all the textbooks for five years of schooling?"

"Not five—seven," Snape corrected. "And do you think I’ve done nothing about it just because I haven’t tried to publish them yet?"

"You’re impossible, Severus," she said sincerely. "Either way, replacing textbooks with revised editions won’t happen until next year. And it’s not even certain Slughorn will still be teaching by then!"

"What about by the second semester—for fourth and fifth years?"

"Publishing them is feasible, but not everyone will be able to buy new books right away," she said, shaking her head. "Wait a moment—why should everyone have to buy them? I have a better idea. If you’ve truly finished everything, bring it to me. The rest will be my responsibility... If it works out, we could introduce the new textbooks this semester!"

"I’ll owe you one," Snape said, unusually serious, as he retrieved several hefty folders from a cabinet.

"Let’s not start keeping score," Marina replied. "After all our shared exploits—and after you saved my life—"

"You’re exaggerating. I simply spared you the worst possible outcome—that’s all."

"Death, you mean?" she quipped, taking the folders. "So... are these the final drafts?"

"For now, yes," he said optimistically. "I may want to tweak them again next year."

"Excellent... Letty," she called to a house-elf that appeared, "take these to my office. Well, I’m off... to draft a letter to the British Minister."

"Dear Minister," she wrote,
"I cannot express the outrage I felt upon learning of Dumbledore's latest maneuver! Imagine—he has quietly, without informing the Board of Governors, myself as High Inquisitor, or even his colleagues, invited Horace Slughorn to the position of Potions Master while intending to assign Severus Snape to Defense Against the Dark Arts!

But let me explain in detail.

Slughorn, as you are likely aware, has been enjoying his retirement since stepping down and has not been engaged in teaching. I highly doubt he has kept up with the latest advancements in potioneering. Furthermore, his teaching methods are considerably outdated—for instance, he vehemently opposes Ministry innovations like the reduced-capacity student cauldrons.

In addition, Slughorn admits students to his advanced Potions class with OWL grades of 'Exceeds Expectations,' which, as you know, is relatively easy to achieve. Even Potter and Weasley managed it!

On one hand, Slughorn's return might be seen as a positive development; he has a knack for engaging students and teaching foundational concepts. However, on advanced levels, his outdated methods will undoubtedly hinder progress.

The Potions curriculum, Minister, has not been revised in decades and is disastrously outdated. Meanwhile, science marches on! This means the brightest young minds in the Wizarding World are being taught obsolete methods instead of the cutting-edge knowledge they deserve.

Now, about Snape. You are aware of his longstanding desire to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. However, his motivation stems not from any desire to delve into the forbidden, but from the alarming history of appointments to that position. Consider the recent roster: Quirrell (missing under mysterious circumstances), Lockhart (utterly incompetent), Lupin (a werewolf!), and finally a Death Eater under Polyjuice Potion. Could such individuals have provided meaningful instruction to our children?

After my appointment as Defense instructor, Snape accepted that the subject was finally in capable hands and focused fully on his work in Potions. And what work it is! For years, Snape has been revising and refining potion recipes. His age, combined with prejudice from senior colleagues and his complex past, prevented these improvements from reaching print. Dumbledore, unsurprisingly, did nothing to help.

Snape has revealed that he often deviates from the approved textbook in his teaching, achieving outstanding results. Advanced Potions is already an elective for a dedicated few, yet every student sits for their OWLs. This is how it should be, don’t you agree?

With Slughorn’s return, however, regression looms. Students accustomed to Snape's effective methods will struggle to understand why their potions fail when following the textbook. As their grades plummet, so too will their enthusiasm, and fewer will choose advanced studies. In time, Slughorn may even admit those with barely passing OWLs. Is this the future our society deserves?

I have consulted instructors from both the Auror Academy and St. Mungo's Healing School. After reviewing Snape's adjustments, they confirmed his methods to be exemplary. If their new recruits had such a foundation, there would be no need for retraining, saving both time and resources.

I urge you to take immediate action.

To summarize, Minister:

Removing Slughorn quietly is not an option—he is a competent teacher, and there is no legitimate reason to dismiss him. Moreover, as I’ve mentioned, he has a good rapport with younger students. Therefore, I propose this solution: Slughorn remains but teaches only first- through fifth-year students. Snape, on the other hand, will take over the advanced Potions classes, with students admitted not based on their OWL grades but on the results of a practical exam administered by him personally. However, for this to work, we must update the instructional materials.

I understand that producing a large print run is expensive, time-consuming, and complex, but there is a solution. A single set of textbooks (even in a non-printed format) will suffice. From there, we can involve the faculty, use duplication charms, and ensure that all students have access to the updated resources. They may not look polished, but a glossy cover is no guarantee of quality content! (Just recall Lockhart’s books!) This can even be organized within Hogwarts itself; all I require is your authorization.

I am enclosing copies of the revised and improved textbooks, as well as certified letters from qualified professionals at St. Mungo’s and the Auror Academy attesting to the value of the content.

As for the Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, Snape and I have agreed to alternate teaching. He will also need to allocate time for extracurricular sessions with fifth-years, and, as you understand, my duties as Head Inquisitor occasionally require my absence. Rest assured, there will be no surprises on this front: Snape fully agrees with the Ministry’s position that practical Defense lessons are unnecessary for students. He is an excellent theorist, and I can personally vouch that he will not deviate from the approved curriculum—this aligns with his own best interests (as I’m sure you understand).

I sincerely hope, Minister, that you will not delay this crucial decision by subjecting the textbooks to scrutiny by outdated traditionalists, who could drag the process out for years!

With hope for a swift response,
Your loyal servant,
Dolores Umbridge.”

"Now, we wait," she said aloud, handing the letter and the hefty package to Letty—it would have been cruel to burden the poor owls with such a weight. "Let’s hope I was persuasive enough!"