"Good morning, Professor Flitwick. Something I can do for you?"
"Oh, nothing pressing — I just wanted to ask if you'd fancy coming along to Hogsmeade for a drink. You put me off last week, and I simply won't take no for it this time. I'm absolutely dying to hear your stories from the Muggle world."
Bernadette thought for a moment. She'd been planning to pick up a few more Chinese books anyway. "Sure — let me just get changed."
"Wonderful, no rush at all."
Half an hour later, Bernadette followed Professor Flitwick to Hogsmeade. The village might have started small, but with Hogwarts as its permanent neighbour — students from third year onward free to wander down every weekend — the resulting foot traffic had been enough to grow it into a lively little market town over time.
"Come on in, Vincent. I imagine you never came here as a student — even the ones who fancied a Butterbeer would have gone to the Three Broomsticks, clean and cheerful as it is, rather than the Hog's Head, which is a rather different proposition."
Flitwick wasn't wrong. The Hog's Head was a dim, cramped, decidedly grimy little room, with a powerful smell of goat about it — enough to put off most people at the door.
As the two of them walked in, they found Professors Snape and McGonagall already seated at a table, chatting over drinks.
Professor McGonagall looked over first, offering a warm smile. "Good morning, Vincent."
"Good morning, Professor McGonagall. Professor Snape."
Snape rolled his eyes. "Aren't you difficult to get hold of, Vincent."
Flitwick came back carrying two glasses of something, handed one to Bernadette, and said: "Severus, we're here to welcome a new colleague today — save the usual routine for another time."
He raised his glass with a smile. "Then, let us welcome Vincent to Hogwarts."
Seeing the others raise their glasses, Snape grudgingly clinked his against theirs.
"So, how have these two weeks been?"
Professor McGonagall asked with curious interest. "I've heard you've been showing the children films — those moving-picture dramatic productions."
Snape was immediately sardonic: "Well. I always assumed Professor Quirrell was the epitome of irresponsibility, but at least he makes some effort to act the part of a professor. Our Professor Vincent, on the other hand, appears to treat every class as an extended opportunity to do nothing in particular. I said it from the start: letting a dropout teach here was always going to be a catastrophe."
Bernadette set her glass down and said evenly: "Professor Snape, have you ever heard this: ignorance is forgivable, but arrogance is not. If you genuinely don't understand something, it's entirely appropriate to keep quiet rather than offer an opinion — especially when the opinion in question only reveals how little you actually know."
"..."
Snape's eyes narrowed.
"Ahem!" Professor McGonagall coughed hastily. "Actually, we're all quite curious — Vincent, would you care to explain?"
"Of course, Professor McGonagall."
Bernadette used the same reasoning Vincent had laid out: "Everyone knows that the majority of young witches and wizards regard Muggles as fundamentally beneath them. They have no interest in, and no desire to understand, the Muggle world."
"With that in mind, I believe the first step should be to spark some curiosity — some genuine interest — in at least one aspect of Muggle life. Films are only a beginning."
"I've always maintained that curiosity is the most powerful driver of learning."
Professors McGonagall and Flitwick gave small, thoughtful nods at this.
Bernadette looked toward Snape. "Incidentally — Professor Snape is himself, in a manner of speaking, half-Muggle, isn't he? I'd have thought you'd understand this better than most."
Professor Flitwick said: "Ah, Severus hasn't been back to the Muggle world in many years, I believe."
"Really? Why is that? Is it eagerness to leave that part of your identity behind — a belief that being a wizard makes one inherently superior?"
"..."
Snape said coldly: "That is my own business."
"No, I was only thinking..." Bernadette smiled slightly. "Professor Snape seems to care a great deal about Harry — and yet before Harry arrived at Hogwarts, you never once went to check on him. Does that connect to why you avoid the Muggle world?"
"I do not care about that arrogant, insufferable, foolish little boy!"
"Then why does every Potions lesson revolve entirely around targeting him? Answer correctly — points from Gryffindor. Answer incorrectly — points from Gryffindor. Look at you — points from Gryffindor. Don't look at you — points from Gryffindor. Stir the potion with the left hand — points from Gryffindor. Stir with the right — still points from Gryffindor."
Bernadette turned to McGonagall. "Professor, if Professor Snape isn't targeting Harry specifically, then the only other interpretation is that he's targeting you — given that you are Head of Gryffindor House."
"Er."
McGonagall very much wanted to press her fingers to her temples. The whole business between Snape and Harry was something she understood entirely too well — but what was she supposed to say?
That Snape had been deeply in love with Harry's mother, and bore a bitter, never-healed hatred for his father?
"Perhaps... that is simply Severus's... cough... way of expressing concern."
Snape's face went absolutely dark. "Professor McGonagall!!!"
McGonagall gave him a pointed look. "Would you prefer to explain it yourself?"
"..."
After a few seconds of silence, Snape stood up. "I have matters to attend to. I'll be going."
"Oh? You haven't even finished half your drink." Flitwick looked flustered. "And just last week with Professor Quirrell — barely a few glasses before he made some excuse and left. You young people really are no fun."
McGonagall shook her head and turned to Bernadette. "As for what lies between Professor Snape and Harry... I'd ask that you leave that alone going forward. It touches on old history. Unless Severus chooses to tell you himself, it isn't our place."
Bernadette's appetite for gossip surged irresistibly. "Something to do with Harry's parents?"
McGonagall said hastily: "I haven't said anything!"
"A love triangle?"
"???"
"Ah. I think I've got it."
McGonagall stared, genuinely taken aback. Are you just a little too perceptive, Vincent? Anyone not knowing better would think you had a woman's intuition.
The three of them chatted on for a while longer — mostly the other two sharing teaching experience, with the occasional question about Bernadette's plans for the term ahead. That, Bernadette suspected, had been the real purpose of today's gathering; Professor McGonagall was Deputy Headmistress, and the school's curriculum was her responsibility.
Much as it had been with Quirrell the previous week.
An hour later the two professors took their leave. Bernadette lingered in Hogsmeade, thinking she might look for more Chinese study materials — when a strange smell reached her. Someone had tried to disguise it, but she could still make it out: garlic.
And in Hogwarts, there was really only one person that smell was associated with.
Quirrell is here too?
Bernadette scanned the room and settled her gaze on a figure in a hooded cloak in the corner of the bar, face hidden. The person spent most of the time with their head bowed, only sneaking furtive glances around the room every so often — the very picture of someone who had something to hide.
Just then, the hooded figure's eyes met Bernadette's. It lasted only an instant before he immediately dropped his gaze again in evident alarm — but Bernadette was now essentially certain it was Quirrell.
Skulking around like this. No question something was going on.
To be continued…
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