Unhappy Endings

50: Severus the Substitute

"Turn to page 394." Severus announced. You could hear him from the hallway. Dumbledore might have asked Severus to be the substitute, but he had asked you to keep an eye on him. Something about him losing control of his irritation at the matter. But he hadn't asked you to teach, which was a bit disappointing.

"Excuse me, sir, but... where's Professor Lupin?" Harry's voice rang out.

Severus was quick with a comeback. "That's not really your concern, is it, Potter? Suffice it to say, your Professor finds himself incapable of teaching at the present time. Page 394." It wasn't truly a surprise that Severus didn't have a very good rapport with students. He seemed to tolerate most of them, despise some of them and favor very few of them.

You could hear slides flicker inside of the room. "Werewolves?" The Weasley boy asked in his nasally voice.

"But, sir, we've only just begun learning about Red Caps and Hinkypunks. We're not meant to start nocturnal beasts for weeks—"

"Quiet!" Severus certainly did not like the smart girl who had interrupted his lesson, nor the red-headed boy. "Now. Which of you can tell me the difference between an Animagus and a werewolf? No one? How... disappointing."

"Please, sir, an Animagus is a wizard who elects to turn into an animal. A werewolf has no choice in the matter. Furthermore, the werewolf actively hunts humans and responds only to the call of its own kind—" Her voice broke the silence again as you heard your irritating twat of a cousin howl.

"Quiet, Malfoy! Though one must admit to feeling your pain. That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger. Tell me. Are you incapable of restraining yourself? Or do you take pride in being an insufferable know-it-all?" Severus snapped and you wondered if you should go in. That was particularly harsh to say to a young woman. And yet he never spoke to his own house like this. Honestly, it was a little bit maddening and you could feel the tips of your fingers and toes turn scarlet and hot with anger. "Five points from Gryffindor! As an antidote to your ignorance, I prescribe two rolls of parchment on the werewolf by Monday morning, with particular emphasis placed on recognizing it... Passing notes, Potter?" He paused to read it, you supposed. "Not exactly Picasso, are you? I hope you demonstrate more talent on the Quidditch pitch this weekend then you do as an artist. If not, I fear you'll perish, given the weather forecast. Until that time, however, you'll forgive me if I don't let you off homework. Should you die, I assure you... you need not hand it in. Now, you may begin working."