CHAPTER THREE - Year Three, Regarding the events of the Prisoner of Azkaban.

September 1st, 1993. Mood: Annoyed.

New DADA teacher this year (not me, unfourtunatly), Remus Lupin. When will Dumbledore just give me the fucking job?

Lucy attempted to cheer be up with a midnight tandem ride around Hogsmede before we stopped at the Shreiking Shack for skjhfjgggh-


Sorry, that was Dumbledore, barging in and sitting on my laptop. Demanded a foot massage.

Honestly. The things I have to put up with.


September 2nd, 1993. Mood: Sexy.

Had tea with Sybill Trelawney this afternoon. She predicted Potter's death. I think I fancy her.

Young Draco Malfoy injured by rampant Hippogriff. Will inform Lucy and see to it that the Hippogriff is beheaded. Oh yes, I am teh ultimate sexy evil.

-Sexyarse Snape

September 8th, 1993. Mood: Suspicious.

Lupin stole my unicycle, plastic harmonica and bouncing tarot cards that Sybil gave me for christmas. Should have known not to get on his bad side during his PMS (pre morphing syndrome). Am suspicious that he is meeting Sirius Black in secret.


October 28th, 1993. Mood: Releived.

Excuse my absence of updates. Dumbledore confiscated my laptop because I refused to massage his stinky, fungal feet, trim his nose hairs and give him his mothly bubble bath. I think he tried to read my diary, thank God for the ingenious muggle inventions known as passwords and email verifications. Although when I did get my laptop back today, I did have to de-hex and de-jynx it.


October 31, 1993. Mood: Ecstatic.

HALLOWE'EN!1!11!one!1 XD


November 1, 1993. Mood: Smug.

Apparently Sirius Black snuck into the castle last night. Suspicious that Lupin let him in. Will find reasons to blame and hex them both into oblivion.

Have an idea to rid the school of Lupin and make it look innocent. Will poison his monthly potion by simply adding a sprinkle of amnesiac powder and make it look like an accidekjhgfuckfgskjh


Apoligies, interrupted by Dumbledore, demanding a backrub. Apparently Flitwick doesn't do it properly.


November 5th, 1993. Mood: Mischeivious.

Haahaa! My plan worked! Sort of. Potion resulted in Lupin thinking he was Minerva. Rather amusing to watch him, transformed into a wolf, wearing tartan robes and playing the bagpipes. I did get to teach his class for the day, dish out detentions, torture Potter, etc. Unfourtunatly Dumbledore was not amused and threatened to make me clean the toilets if i didn't make an antidote.


November 6th, 1993. Mood: Self-Righteous.

Hufflepuff vs. Gryffindor today, Quidditch. Dementors invaded the pitch, resulting in a win to Hufflepuff and Potter's broomstick blowing into the whomping willow. I do love that tree. Chances increased for Slytherin winning the Quidditch cup. Am very smug towards Minerva.


November 27th, 1993. Mood: Flustered.

Ravenclaw beat Hufflepuff today. Fuck. Was enjoying the privacy of the brrom closet when 3 house-elves barged in and presented my with the news. Damn it, those house-elves seem to know every broom closet in Hogwarts. Must find a new hiding place.


December 25th, 1993. Mood: Giddy.

Spent christmas with Sybil as nobody was keen on spending it with either of us this year. Got a bit high on her hemp essence candles. She has a secret broom closet in her wardrobe. XD


January 8th, 1994. Mood: Celebrative.

Slytherin beat Gryffindor in Quidditch yoday. Lucy gave me a new broomstick as a gift for bring relentlesws with Slytherin training. Told me not to break it as with comet69. may fit in some practice with it in Sybil's broom closet.


April 3rd, 1994. Mood: Loved.

Easter today. Dumbledore made the teachers dress up as fluffy pink easter rabbits and deliver eggs for the students who stayed over the holidays.

Received a carob easter egg from Lucy. And a yellow fuffy ducky toy from Dumbledore. Will stick pins in it.


April 7th, 1994. Mood: Impatient.

Dammit, Dumbledore caught me with my broomstick in Sybil's closet. Must find a better hiding place. Perhaps under the whomping wofsktnvfsm#$&324-2!11


Am regretful to announce that Dumbledore has invaded my privacy yet again to demand a deep tissue massage to his gwkjbeefjnfgfrspermywsfnjenwinkle


Honestly. This is just getting a bit too much.


April 15th, 1994. Mood: Evil.

Witnessed Gryffindor practising Quidditch in the field today. Potter has a new, streamlined, slick looking broom. Am envious. Will find a way to scare him off his broom in tomorrow's game, perharps sending it flying into the whoming willow. Mwahaahahahahaaa... I am evil. sexy. evil.

-Mr. Sexylegs (even if they are hairy) (but then no one really has the privilage of looking under my robes anyway) (except Hogwarts staff) (and Lucy).

April 16th, 1994. Mood: Sucky Fucky Poostains McFuck shit, to put things quite blatantly.

Quidditch today. Ravenclaw vs. Gryffindor. Sent Malfoy junior, Crabbe and and Goyle onto the field today dressed as dementors. Draco wanted to wear a scream mask. Informed him that dementors have invisible faces.

False dementors scared the shit out of the Potter-child, who unfortunatly seems to be excelling in the DADA lessons because he cast an (albiet flimsy) patronus. If I had been the DADA teacher potter would have failed. FAILED. And probably tumbled off that rather-nice looking broom of his. But instead he caught the snitch resulting in a win for Gryffindor.

Dumbledore discovered lame dementor attempt and forced me to perform a strip-tease in the staff room at supper time. Hagrid won't let me hear the end of it. Minerva and Sybill keep giggling behind thier hands like twelve year old girls whenever they pass me in the corridors.


April 20th, 1994. Mood: Content.

Smirk has been wiped off Hagrid's face. His Hippogriff is due to be senteced to death on the sixth of june.

Am off to spend some quality time under the whomping willow.


April 21st, 1994. Mood: Behold, even more disturing and antisocial than usual.

The little fuckwits(students) buggered off(went) to Hogsmade today. Looked forward to a day ALONE but was interupted during my alchemy session by Draco Malfoy who informed me that he saw Potter's head in Hogsmade. Confronted Potter and threatened to spank him. Lupin informed me that as the DADA teacher he should be doing the spanking. nearly spanked them both.


April 25th, 1994. Mood: Pleased.

Sybyll showed me her crystal balls today. Funny, for some reason It had never occured to me that she had balls. Especially not ones made out of crystal.


May 14th, 1994. Mood: Confused.


Wouldn't dare to inform Lucy that we lost the match because his son sucks at Quidditch. He might take offense to it.

Noticed Lupin was not at the match today, and its not even his time of the month. And when I retired to the whomping willow for a bit of relaxation I found my firebolt all the way in the shreiking shack covered in FOREIGN DROOL. Hmmm...


June 4th, 1994. Mood: Smug.

Gave the Potter-Child a zero for his confusing concotion today. Gave Draco a ten. The score really should have been the other way around, but I swapped them. Mwahahaa. Sometimes I baffle myself with my own sly, cunning wit and superior intellect.


June 6, 1994. Mood: Most Pleased.

Today started well and ended excellently.

Lucy and Waldy (McNair, that is,) visited for the celebrations of the execution of Hagrid's Hippogriff. Had a tea-party at the shreiking shack. Borrowed Sybill's teacups. Lucy got a bit tipsy and started dancing on the tabletops wearing nothing but a tutu, infoming us that he was practicing his recital for the Dark Lord's birthday anniversary. Mused over the days when we were the Broomstick boys. Brought my violin out of hiding; Lucy conjuired his cello and Waldy procured his irish flute. Too bad Rodolf and Bella are in Azkaban, we could have done with the accompanyment of his harp and her drums. One day, perhaps.

After they left I thought I would stay in the shreiking shack for a spot of private reading but was rudley interupted by Lupin and none other than Sirius Black himself. Thanks to the concealment charm, I managed to hide myself and spy on them as the culprits played with my broomstick.

Black got a little over-enthusiastic and broke my broomstick. Am most greived. How will I ever explain this to Lucy? He'll wonder on earth I have been up to with the broken broomstick. Will blame on whomping willow. Must enact my revenge upon Black.

Was forced to come out of hiding when the Potter child and his friends barged into the shack. (Sheesh, what is that place, Disney Land?) Was about to curse them all horribly but was bound and knocked unconcious. Would have been rather turned on by these series of events, had I been concious. there is a certain, subtle sexyness about rope.

Woke up in time to claim the capture of Sirius Black, although it was really the Dementors who did it. He is now awaiting the Dementor's kiss.

Big day. Bed time, I think. And as Aspirin or two.

Have a whopping great headache.


June 7th, 1994. Mood: Betrayed.

CANNOT believe that Dumbledore let Granger use her time-turner to "put things right" as he said it. Hippogriff and Black now alive and in hiding! Am most greviously angered.

No more backrubs for Dumbledore.

Or foot massages.

Or nosehair and beard trimming.

Or monthy bubblebaths.

Or manicures.

Or lapdances.

Flitwick is on his own from this day forth.