The Legacy of Salazar

The Sorting Song

In the few hours since Snape had known Lockhart, he'd managed to lose every last vestige of respect for the man and had concluded that Mr. Most Charming Smile Award was a complete nitwit with not enough brains to fill a teacup. At least James Potter had been able to back up some of the more arrogant boasts with clever wand work—which only made Lockhart's appointment as Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor even more insulting.

Snape could understand Dumbledore's reasoning. To some extent, he even agreed with him. After all, there was no possible way Lockhart was in league with the Dark Lord and therefore, although a pompous imbecile with no real qualifications, save for his downright spurious books, he would make a safe appointment. The fact that he was the only applicant came second. Snape already had a running bet with McGonagall on what would drive the celebrity from the school at the end of the year. His money was on Lockhart accidentally hospitalizing himself. Hers, that Merlin would somehow prove his incompetency—which he'd have bet on himself if she hadn't beaten him to it. He never thought he'd be glad of the curse on the position that limited all DADA professors to a year—or less, his mind hopefully reminded.

He swept into the Great Hall, black robes billowing, and found Lockhart had seated himself right by where he usually sat, near the end in front of the Slytherin table in robes of forget-me-not-blue. If he had to spend another hour listening to those driveling stories—Snape ignored the seat entirely and took the vacant chair on Dumbledore's other side. McGonagall cast him a curious look before glancing down the table. Her lips thinned and she turned her gaze back to the doors of the Great Hall, tapping her fingers on the table.

Needless to say, he wasn't the only one Lockhart had managed to alienate.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, his blue eyes twinkling. "Why, Severus, this is a surprise."

Snape glared at him. The seating arrangements were fluid, although tradition had pushed the heads of houses to align their seating arrangements with their house. Probably why Professor Flitwick regarded him with a startled expression as he walked past to take Snape's usual seat.

"A change of scenery seemed in order," Snape replied curtly.

"I see." Dumbledore gave him a long searching glance. "I must say I'm almost impressed, how did he manage to offend you so quickly?"

Snape's lip curled. "Breathing."

To his surprise, he heard McGonagall grunt in agreement from Dumbledore's other side. "You too, Minerva?" Dumbledore asked sounding amused.

For a long moment, she didn't reply, then, "You know very well I didn't approve. But," and here she grimaced as though she'd just swallowed a lemon, "Clearly we didn't have any other options." Her eyes met his, and Snape resisted the urge to snarl.

She knew every well how badly he wanted that job.

"My dear professors, let's at least wait until he's had his first class," Dumbledore said placidly, looking from one to the other. "His qualifications were quite spectacular, however," and the twinkle in his eye shone brighter, "one never knows how these things will play out. I have heard rumors about a certain wager."

McGonagall turned very slowly toward him, her brow rising. "Oh, you've heard that, have you?"

"What, going to tell us we're crossing some ridiculous ethical line?" Snape sneered. "Will the curse kill Lockhart because of our insensitivity?" Wouldn't that be lovely?

"Nothing of the sort," Dumbledore said smiling now. "Although, I'm surprised at you Severus. Smart money is surely on young Merlin, is it not?"

"Do you mean to tell me," McGonagall said dropping her tone to a bare whisper, "that you hired Lockhart for the sole purpose of exposing him?"