NOVEL WEB Chapter 68: A New Appointment
"But," Dumbledore said, his eyes glinting with a trace of mischief, "I do have some good news to share."
"You've found another lead on the Horcruxes?" Snape leaned forward slightly, voice guarded.
Had the Headmaster already discovered the ring? If so, Snape would have to start watching him more closely.
"No, not that kind of news," Dumbledore replied, waving his hand lightly. "I'm referring to the new appointment for next year's Defence Against the Dark Arts post. We've finally secured someone."
"That barely qualifies as good news," Snape said dryly, raising an eyebrow. "You've been replacing that post annually for so long. I'm surprised you can still find anyone willing to take it."
"Indeed. Over the years, I've troubled many old friends," Dumbledore sighed, pulling a letter from the pile on his desk. "To protect them, I always insist they resign—voluntarily or otherwise—by year's end.
"Professor Grapeland will be leaving Hogwarts in a few months. She doesn't even intend to stay until after exams," he added with a helpless shrug, gesturing for Snape to read the letter.
Snape opened the parchment. It was a letter from Abraxas Malfoy—Lucius's father and the yet-unborn Draco Malfoy's grandfather.
In the letter, old Malfoy expressed sharp condemnation of Dumbledore's educational philosophy and of the recent events at the Duelling Club.
The tone was imperious:
"No right-minded wizard would condone the spectacle of pure-blood wizards being made to duel on equal footing with Muggle-borns.
"If one of these mudbloods were to defeat a pure-blood wizard, even by underhanded means or blind luck, it would bring disgrace to our entire world.
"I emphasize that I do not believe such individuals should be admitted to Hogwarts in the first place.
"I, Abraxas Malfoy, have formally submitted a petition to the Board of Governors. Starting next school year, I shall assume the role of Defence Against the Dark Arts professor myself…"
Snape finished reading, and a twisted smirk played on his lips. "Someone so eager to throw himself into the curse?"
"My thoughts exactly," Dumbledore said with an amused smile. "I suppose he thinks himself Voldemort's most favoured servant. Perhaps Mr. Malfoy naïvely believes Tom's curse would spare his loyal followers."
"I accepted his request immediately, of course," Dumbledore continued, "There was no need for him to try and pressure me through the Board."
"That's honestly good news, Professor," Snape nodded. "The fewer of these old pure-blood fossils clinging to relevance, the better. They should've been swept away by time long ago."
"You're still too radical in your thinking, Severus," Dumbledore gently chided.
"Then who else pays the price?" Snape gave a cold smile. "If there must be casualties, let it be them."
"By the way, Professor," Snape added, "I have a lead you might follow. Consider investigating the older generations of the Gaunt family. And, as always, I'd like to accompany you—keep things under control."
Better to keep the reins in his own hands than live in constant suspense.
"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore said with warmth in his voice and a rare note of appreciation in his eyes. "I've had a few ideas. Years ago, a Ministry official named Bob Ogden encountered members of the Gaunt family while on duty.
"If you're still interested, let's visit him next weekend."
Snape couldn't help but feel relieved—his gamble had paid off. Dumbledore's efficiency matched his reputation.
The next day was a Hogsmeade visit.
For once, the sun had managed to pierce the thick clouds and spread light over the path leading to the village. It was still bitterly cold, with harsh wind nipping at their cloaks.
Barty joined Snape's group directly this time. He had no need—or obligation—to attend Walpurgis gatherings anymore.
Snape had written ahead to Madam Rosmerta at the Three Broomsticks to reserve a large table.
As soon as they pushed open the wooden door, a wave of sweet butterbeer warmth swept over them. They ducked in eagerly, escaping the chill.
They hadn't been seated for more than two minutes when Madam Rosmerta swayed over from behind the bar, heels clicking sharply against the floor.
She carried several bottles of butterbeer and a single bottle of wine. Today she wore a sky-blue headscarf trimmed in lace, which made her fair complexion seem even brighter.
"Thank you, Madam," Snape said, watching her approach. "We were just about to come get those."
"Happy birthday, Abbot," she said with a sly smile, eyes narrowing playfully. "Severus asked me to hold a table for you all—said there'd be a birthday to celebrate."
"Oh, come on!" Snape groaned, mock-annoyed. "We were trying to surprise him!"
"Well, isn't a personal delivery by me a surprise enough?" Rosmerta gave him a mock glare, then turned back to the birthday boy. "This bottle of wine's from me, Abbot. Hope you like it."
"That's a wonderful surprise!" Abbot's cheeks flushed slightly as he beamed at the bottle. "Thank you so much, Madam. I really do."
"Wait," Snape suddenly said, something clicking in his mind. "This wine—was it brewed by house-elves?"
"No," Rosmerta replied with a puzzled look. "I made it myself. Why would that matter?"
"Just wondering what method you used," Snape said, almost embarrassed by his own curiosity.
"With magic, of course," she answered, turning away with the empty tray. "Honestly, Severus, what are you on about?"
"Oh… nothing." Snape muttered, feeling oddly disappointed, though he couldn't quite say why.