Saturday, January 28, 2006

Birthday Letters: Robes

Birthday Letters: Robes

I had to poke the next blogger a bit harder than anyone else in order to get something out of him. But I think the hassle - not to mention the insults - has been worth it.

I was still a little shocked, however, when the blog landed in my gmail to discover Severus's chosen topic...


Should I begin I was born, I became embittered? But then 'became' is such a loaded word, as it implies that there was something before the embitterment or that there might be something under it. There wasn't and isn't. Several people have looked. If I pride myself on anything it is the perception and foresight which this gives me. Embitterment is a state which many aim for and only the truly gifted achieve. I consider myself to be part of this select gathering.

I am aware of the numerous rumours circulating; Hogwarts gossip mongers have all the subtlety of a rampaging troll. I do not expect many reading this to understand given that I haven't invented my own range of hair care products or won the Quidditch Cup. Certainly something as public as a 'blog' is not the place to take to task those rumours and explanations; discretion and intellect are hardly in vogue and it would be tedious for all involved were I to use this opportunity to pretend otherwise. But, sure as a melted cauldron means that Longbottom's in the vicinty, there was little I could do - short of a couple of hexes and a few unforgiveables - to extricate myself from the job of writing this entry. Whilst I know my efforts will undoubtedly be overshadowed by an upstart with little talent who has some pretension to celebrity this does not mean I have shirked from the challenge at hand. Gryffindors may utter their deeds with much pomp, circumstance and the inflation of egos, but every Slytherin knows that there is a quieter, more skilful and infinitely more deadly method to take. It is with this view, and several bottles of wine, that I have undertaken the task. It does pain me somewhat that, in order to fit in with the requirements laid down, I have had to resort to 'blogging' about robes, swishy or otherwise.

If I temporarily lay aside Gryffindors, the male Potters, DADA teachers who aren't me, Sirius Black, werewolves, having to talk to Draco Malfoy, a good 95% of the pupils I have taught and Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans, the thing which I hate most is shopping. Regardless of the time of day, month or year I inevitably encounter shopkeepers who have the intelligence and personal skills of a horned toad, families who shop in packs with 8 year old wizards who think it fun to activate every object which makes a noise and witches who spend the gross national product of Albania buying robes which they will discard within two months. I can safely say that I have had more pleasurable days disembowelling flobberworms than I have ever had shopping. It is one of the great joys of being the second most wanted man in the wizarding world that the delights of Diagon Alley are no longer an option for me unless I want to be heading to Azkaban quicker than than you can say 'Avada Kedavra'. Once again it seems that practice of the dark arts has its advantages

In my youth, or at least in the days before I aimed an Unforgiveable at the Headmaster's chest, making my way through the leaky cauldron was an unfortunate necessity. For along with the copious amounts of supplies required to combat certain students disregard for my personal store cupboard there was the issue of my robes. There is something infinitely soothing about a well cut robe, the subtlety and power of which is lost on those for whom luminous pink ruffles are the height of sophistication. Aside from the occasional emerald green robe required for occasions when it is only right to demonstrate my house loyalty in a manner which even a Huffelpuff can understand there is only one colour which any self respecting wizard will chose. Black. Again many will not appreciate the understatement of this choice but there is nothing which comes even remotely close to exuding the amount of control - and finesse - of black. Whatever may be said about the Dark Lord and his followers, one thing that is not up for debate is their sartorial elegance. Others colours and designs may come in and out of fashion, Witch Weekly may feature this month's particular dunderhead in the brightest of shades, but black remains.

A stamp of eternity and permanence which only the refined will truly appreciate.

S. Snape 27/01/05

P.S. I believe it is a somewhat tiresome custom at times like this to say "Happy Birthday". Whilst I cannot account for others adherence to such etiquette, I would rather adopt a blast ended skrewt than utter such phrases.

Severus Snape taught Potions and Defence Against The Dark Arts at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for 17 years, where he was also Head of Slytherin. During that time he wrote for numerous Potions Journals and was Consultant Editor of the best-selling Dark Arts for Dunderheads. Currently on the run from the Ministry of Magic (not to mention The Boy Who Lived) in his spare time Severus enjoys thinking up biting retorts and taking points off of Gryffindors.

To read the full set of letters go here.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Severus, I am sure the following will disturb you greatly, after all who am I to lay my true feelings on the line to such a truely embittered man. In your eyes, I will appear weak willed and fanciful - and we all know where such things will get a muggle such as myself.

But none the less I can not maintain this pretence any longer. I love you. I know that a man such as yourselve will not appreciate or understand a sentiment such as this. But to deny myself any longer would be wrong for both of us.

I would hope that someday you could learn to accept, nay recipricate these feelings. Though I fear this may never happen.

Again, my dear Severus, I send you all of my heart