Another Postcard Chapter 2


Professor Snape set his pewter goblet down with a bang at breakfast one morning. Several bowls and trays clanged as their balance was upset on the teachers table. Professor Flitwick’s small mug of coffee tipped over, but he flicked his wand quickly and it was cleared before anyone was scalded.

“Severus,” Flitwick squeaked. “Whatever is the-,” his voice trailed off as he saw the postcard sitting in front of Snape. A postcard with a picture of a chimpanzee in a tuxedo and spats grinned up at him. The little wizard began chuckling.

“I fail to see the entertainment value in this,” said Snape, his jaw clenched.

“I don’t,” said Professor McGonagall, who Snape hadn’t realized was standing behind him. “It certainly has managed to get a rise out of you.”

Snape ate the remainder of his breakfast, ignoring the postcard on the table in front of him. He rose quickly and pocketed the card when he was done.

Several students jumped out of his way as he stormed down the halls, his cape billowing, as he made his way to the dungeons. The frown on his face was enough to even get Professor Trelawney to take a step back, although she threw him a nasty look as he strode past.

When he got to his laboratory he looked at his shelf of reference books. He didn’t even know where to begin. The only writing on it was his name.

Snape started with a Potion of Intention. When sprayed on the writing it glowed faintly yellow. Nothing malicious was intended and humor was involved. This verified it was a practical joke and he relaxed quite a bit.

For a moment he considered ceasing with the testing and trying to guess who the student was. Perhaps he could get a betting pool going with Flitwick. At least it was one bet he had a chance at. McGonagall would be getting galleons from him over Quidditch games for the rest of his career.

He sprayed a Sexing Potion of the postcard. It glowed red. Female.

An Aging Potion. Between 15 and 30 years of age. That didn’t help much.

Snape sighed and opened his drawer. There were twelve postcards now.

Snape sat back in his chair and looked at the inside of his office.

Bare stone walls decorated only with bookshelves and potions ingredients surrounded him. A threadbare black rug stretched between the worn desk and the black leather chairs before it. It could use a cleaning, truth be told.

There were no windows and the hearth lay bare, the room usually heated by a cauldron bubbling in a corner when he was present.

A bit of color wouldn’t kill him. Snape reasoned. Perhaps it was even a little satisfying to have a student think of him enough to send him something pleasant after they left.

After the Weasley twins had left and the search of mail was stopped he had received a package that he still shuddered about when he thought of it. He had never been able to peg it on them, but he had been hexed to hear a horrible repetitive song about a Muggle with a peculiar wife in his head for the better part of 2 hours.

With a few flicks of his wand and some rearranging he found himself with a decent amount of wall space. He retrieved the postcards and spelled them with a temporary sticking spell before he arranged them on the wall in their order of arrival.

There was a tap on his door as he was examining his handiwork.

“Come,” Snape said.

“Severus I believe there’s the matter of-,” Professor McGonagall’s voice trailed off as he turned around.

“Yes,” Snape frowned. He knew she was here to get a Galleon he owed her from the last Quidditch game. For someone who didn’t believe in Divination she seemed to have an uncanny way of choosing winning teams.

“Are those all the postcards you’ve gotten?” McGonagall asked, looking past him.

“Oh,” Snape said, turning around so she could see past him. “Yes. They were… taking up too much room in my desk.”

“I see,” said Professor McGonagall, smiling at him as he sniffed imperiously. “Well, there’s the matter of a Galleon.”

Snape quickly paid her off and shooed her out of his office before she could continue looking at him like that. It was unnerving.