Headmaster Snape: Staffing: Or, Who Chose the Carrows
Staffing Decisions
Dumbledore’s portrait said reflectively to the headmaster, “I had, of course, previously realized that the Carrows were personally… unprepossessing. But I had not quite appreciated just how well suited they were to the professorial role. In a mere matter of days, they’ve both quite firmly displaced you, Severus, as most-despised teacher of Hogwarts. You at least commanded fear, some respect… even appreciation from a select group of students. The Carrows … seem to have attracted no adherents, only detractors. Most valuable additions to the teaching staff, indeed, Headmaster. Were you, perchance, given a free hand in choosing personnel?”
“Quite to the contrary, Dumbledore. I was adamant that the Dark Lord should have personnel he trusted at my back.”
Snape sat down and steepled his fingers, regarding them thoughtfully before returning his gaze to the expectant portrait. He said blandly, “I believe it to have been Thorfinn Rowle who suggested to the Dark Lord that it would be inadvisable to tie up more of the best fighters during the school year, and that the job required little more than… aptitude for the Cruciatus. And unquestioned loyalty, of course, which left out Malfoy and his ilk.”
Phineas Nigellus asked, with a delicate lift of his eyebrows, “And did Rowle perhaps have … assistance, in formulating these requirements?”
Snape’s eyes gleamed. “Not to his recollection.”
Dumbledore waited a moment. When no further explanation was forthcoming, he said, “Perhaps, Severus, you’d be kind enough to expand on that?”
Snape regarded his fingertips again. “It is possible… although, alas, it would not be possible for anyone to verify this… that some time ago Rowle lent a sympathetic, if somewhat inebriated, ear to complaints about the difficulties of disciplining students…. We do have a Pensieve available; would you care to see the conversation?”
At the double nod, Snape pulled out the Pensieve and positioned it where both portraits could see it. He extracted a memory and dropped it in with a slight flourish. The surface swirled, then shapes rose and solidified. Several of the other portraits craned to see.
A poorly lit room became visible, filled with people, mostly men, in various stages of inebriation. At one table to the side, a large blond man, a small crooked one, and a greasy-haired dark one were drinking what appeared to be straight Firewhiskey.
“Detentions,” sneered the dark one. He made a dismissive gesture with his left hand, just a little too broadly. Rather than slurring his words, he was faintly over-articulating them. “Discipline is… laughable at Hogwarts. Can’t do anything.”
The crooked man giggled. “Can’t have any fun, hey? Well, it’ll be different when you’re in charge.”
Snape smirked. “More fun, Carrow? Possibly.… But of course it’s not definite that I’ll be installed.” He focused on his glass and reached for it with careful deliberation. It slopped slightly, but didn’t spill. He took a long pull from it, and his voice roughened slightly. “Don’t count on the Dark Lord to do the obvious. He might have other plans. But whoever he installs will need decent support. The brats can be a menace. Anyone he sends in should be good at the Cruciatus.”
Carrow giggled again.
The big blond said, “Any of the girl students pretty? Maybe I’ll volunteer for the duty!” He pounded the table, snorting, as he downed his own drink.
“You’d be welcome, Rowle, but you’re needed where you are. I don’t think we should tie up our best fighters babysitting brats. You’ll just have to find some pretty Muggles instead… surely they breed some passable looking ones?” Snape waved his wand lazily; all three glasses refilled. Rowle, who had started when Snape pulled his wand, relaxed again.
Lucius, across the room, was speaking in a loud, slurred voice and slapping another man on the shoulder. Snape glanced at him, then his eyes half-closed for a few seconds. When he opened them, they glittered in drunken enthusiasm. “To the new regime at Hogwarts-may it come soon!”
Rowle and Carrow laughed and drank. Snape’s Firewhiskey had vanished too; he shook his head slightly, as though to clear it, and his eyes wavered unfocused for a moment before fixing on Rowle’s face. “What Hogwarts needs is basically a babysitter who likes the Cruciatus. What a pity sweet Bellatrix is so good in raids-otherwise she’d be ideal. But as I said, we really don’t want to take any good fighters off the front lines.”
Rowle blinked and seemed to lose track of the conversation. He looked at his empty glass, then back up into Snape’s eyes. Snape smiled and refilled the glasses yet again with a slightly uncertain wave of his wand.
The images swirled and dissolved. Phineas said approvingly, “You do a nice drunk, Snape. Not overdone-that’s rather rare. Malfoy, now, was being fairly obvious.”
Snape spread his hands and said with becoming modesty, “Practice is everything. Dumbledore once loaned me his Pensieve for that purpose; I decanted some memories of ah, authentic incidents of inebriation to study my actual reactions so I could simulate various stages. While I retain any capacity, I tend more to … over control than sloppiness. In justice to Lucius, I might say that he does do a better job when he’s aware he’s being observed by anyone with critical capability left.”
“But I didn’t catch what you actually did. I saw you focus, but not the effect.”
Snape smirked. “Good. It was not intended to be easily caught. A few drops only of a … concoction of my own devising. It erases the conscious memory of a conversation, while imprinting the … ideas discussed. Which will then resurface as a bright idea of one’s own. The potion is designed to mix well with alcohol.”
Phineas snorted; Dumbledore laughed and asked, “Did you have the Carrows specifically in mind, then?”
“They were the ones who most… fully met the specifications, yes. There was, of course, no way to know who would be available at the start of term. But keeping the Dark Lord’s most valued fighters out of the, ah, applicant pool automatically excluded both the brightest and the most formidable, which could only be to the good. Leaving me with those who combined some degree of incompetence, stupidity, and sadism. Ideal, really, in one’s new teachers. Depending on the lessons one wishes taught.”
Dumbledore’s portrait said reflectively to the headmaster, “I had, of course, previously realized that the Carrows were personally… unprepossessing. But I had not quite appreciated just how well suited they were to the professorial role. In a mere matter of days, they’ve both quite firmly displaced you, Severus, as most-despised teacher of Hogwarts. You at least commanded fear, some respect… even appreciation from a select group of students. The Carrows … seem to have attracted no adherents, only detractors. Most valuable additions to the teaching staff, indeed, Headmaster. Were you, perchance, given a free hand in choosing personnel?”
“Quite to the contrary, Dumbledore. I was adamant that the Dark Lord should have personnel he trusted at my back.”
Snape sat down and steepled his fingers, regarding them thoughtfully before returning his gaze to the expectant portrait. He said blandly, “I believe it to have been Thorfinn Rowle who suggested to the Dark Lord that it would be inadvisable to tie up more of the best fighters during the school year, and that the job required little more than… aptitude for the Cruciatus. And unquestioned loyalty, of course, which left out Malfoy and his ilk.”
Phineas Nigellus asked, with a delicate lift of his eyebrows, “And did Rowle perhaps have … assistance, in formulating these requirements?”
Snape’s eyes gleamed. “Not to his recollection.”
Dumbledore waited a moment. When no further explanation was forthcoming, he said, “Perhaps, Severus, you’d be kind enough to expand on that?”
Snape regarded his fingertips again. “It is possible… although, alas, it would not be possible for anyone to verify this… that some time ago Rowle lent a sympathetic, if somewhat inebriated, ear to complaints about the difficulties of disciplining students…. We do have a Pensieve available; would you care to see the conversation?”
At the double nod, Snape pulled out the Pensieve and positioned it where both portraits could see it. He extracted a memory and dropped it in with a slight flourish. The surface swirled, then shapes rose and solidified. Several of the other portraits craned to see.
A poorly lit room became visible, filled with people, mostly men, in various stages of inebriation. At one table to the side, a large blond man, a small crooked one, and a greasy-haired dark one were drinking what appeared to be straight Firewhiskey.
“Detentions,” sneered the dark one. He made a dismissive gesture with his left hand, just a little too broadly. Rather than slurring his words, he was faintly over-articulating them. “Discipline is… laughable at Hogwarts. Can’t do anything.”
The crooked man giggled. “Can’t have any fun, hey? Well, it’ll be different when you’re in charge.”
Snape smirked. “More fun, Carrow? Possibly.… But of course it’s not definite that I’ll be installed.” He focused on his glass and reached for it with careful deliberation. It slopped slightly, but didn’t spill. He took a long pull from it, and his voice roughened slightly. “Don’t count on the Dark Lord to do the obvious. He might have other plans. But whoever he installs will need decent support. The brats can be a menace. Anyone he sends in should be good at the Cruciatus.”
Carrow giggled again.
The big blond said, “Any of the girl students pretty? Maybe I’ll volunteer for the duty!” He pounded the table, snorting, as he downed his own drink.
“You’d be welcome, Rowle, but you’re needed where you are. I don’t think we should tie up our best fighters babysitting brats. You’ll just have to find some pretty Muggles instead… surely they breed some passable looking ones?” Snape waved his wand lazily; all three glasses refilled. Rowle, who had started when Snape pulled his wand, relaxed again.
Lucius, across the room, was speaking in a loud, slurred voice and slapping another man on the shoulder. Snape glanced at him, then his eyes half-closed for a few seconds. When he opened them, they glittered in drunken enthusiasm. “To the new regime at Hogwarts-may it come soon!”
Rowle and Carrow laughed and drank. Snape’s Firewhiskey had vanished too; he shook his head slightly, as though to clear it, and his eyes wavered unfocused for a moment before fixing on Rowle’s face. “What Hogwarts needs is basically a babysitter who likes the Cruciatus. What a pity sweet Bellatrix is so good in raids-otherwise she’d be ideal. But as I said, we really don’t want to take any good fighters off the front lines.”
Rowle blinked and seemed to lose track of the conversation. He looked at his empty glass, then back up into Snape’s eyes. Snape smiled and refilled the glasses yet again with a slightly uncertain wave of his wand.
The images swirled and dissolved. Phineas said approvingly, “You do a nice drunk, Snape. Not overdone-that’s rather rare. Malfoy, now, was being fairly obvious.”
Snape spread his hands and said with becoming modesty, “Practice is everything. Dumbledore once loaned me his Pensieve for that purpose; I decanted some memories of ah, authentic incidents of inebriation to study my actual reactions so I could simulate various stages. While I retain any capacity, I tend more to … over control than sloppiness. In justice to Lucius, I might say that he does do a better job when he’s aware he’s being observed by anyone with critical capability left.”
“But I didn’t catch what you actually did. I saw you focus, but not the effect.”
Snape smirked. “Good. It was not intended to be easily caught. A few drops only of a … concoction of my own devising. It erases the conscious memory of a conversation, while imprinting the … ideas discussed. Which will then resurface as a bright idea of one’s own. The potion is designed to mix well with alcohol.”
Phineas snorted; Dumbledore laughed and asked, “Did you have the Carrows specifically in mind, then?”
“They were the ones who most… fully met the specifications, yes. There was, of course, no way to know who would be available at the start of term. But keeping the Dark Lord’s most valued fighters out of the, ah, applicant pool automatically excluded both the brightest and the most formidable, which could only be to the good. Leaving me with those who combined some degree of incompetence, stupidity, and sadism. Ideal, really, in one’s new teachers. Depending on the lessons one wishes taught.”