Who's The Boss

Chapter 1

By rhitmcshanm

Non-Standard Disclaimer: These characters are OOC. The story is supposed to be funny. It might actually be funny, and it might not be. Humor is a very  subjective thing.

Summary: Voldemort is defeated. Hermione becomes the Headmistress of Hogwarts. Snape suffers under her reign of terror. Hilarity ensues...eventually.

***
Gentle reader, I shall now spend an inordinate amount of time bringing you up to date on what has happened to our favorite characters since we last saw them.

The story begins in 1998, the year of Harry Potter “The Boy Who Lived”s graduation from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. For those who might  have been sleeping through the first four books, the wizarding world was being  terrorized by a dark wizard named Voldemort. Or Moldy Voldy as he came to be known when the greater wizarding population learned that he had skin fungus  (doubtless acquired from hanging out in dank and dark dungeons with his minions). Suffice to say, Voldemort made life hell for those who fought for the  ‘Good Side.’  Our tale starts right after the final fight of the final battle of the final movement of the final war.

 Voldemort was defeated and is dead as a doornail (though very few doornails have  ever admitted to being once living, a wizard knows that a doornail (a living one) is just as alive as you or I. Our heroes—too numerous to list having grown in number since book four to include several OCs and a couple of Mary Sue’s—had known the final battle was approaching because the Dark Mark on Severus Snape’s  arm (Snape was, by the way, a spy for the ‘Good Side’. He would go to meetings  of the Death Eaters, have a few drinks, screw a few wenches (after all, who else but a wench would look past his hideous external appearance to appreciate his  inner beauty?) and gather information for Albus Dumbledore. All in a days work,  he often thought in the middle of the screwing—which was never satisfying.) But  where was I…oh yes, Snape’s Dark Mark had begun to glow. It started out as a  gentle glowing but had soon increased in intensity until it was as bright as the  sun. (For those of you who worry about out dear Potions Master, be not afraid.  The glowing mark didn’t hurt or anything, it just glowed—blindingly.)

 Because of the Potion Master’s incandescent arm, the Defenders of the Right and All that is Good, knew that Voldemort would be attacking soon. They knew they  couldn’t attack him first because no one knew where his secret hideout was. Of course, Voldemort knew exactly where our defenders were. Hogwarts never seemed  to move (well, the staircases did, and once in a while a picture would, but the building itself was fairly stationary).

 The Battle began. It began right in the middle of the Quidditch pitch—luckily Lee Jordan was available to commentate. He kept up an exciting, running commentary on which side was winning when. The First Years waved coloured scarves when their side was in the lead.

 Moldy Voldy just stood in the center of the pitch waiting for his nemesis to  approach. The reader might find it a tad amusing that the most evil and powerful  wizard in the world could be constantly beaten by a teenager, but I ask the  reader to suspend disbelief for a moment and remember those extraordinary things are what keep a plot afloat. Anywhoo, Harry Potter approached the arch-villain.  He used some pretty interesting magic against the Dark Lord—throwing spell after  spell out in exemplary Latin and using the same archaic language to deflect  anything the red-eyed evil one threw at him. It was all very amusing and  educational for those who stood around and watched, but in the end, Harry  resorted to a Muggle method to dispatch the half-snake/half-man/half-cadaver.  Remembering an interesting scene from Indiana Jones and the Ark of the Covenant,  he had distracted Voldemort with psuedo-Latin spells and, when the monster’s  attention was not on his—Harry’s—hand, Harry had just thrown a knife—with surprisingly good aim—and slew the evil one that way. Even a ‘person’ with three halves body parts (recall: half snake, half man, half cadaver) dies when their  guts are carved out. And that was the end of Voldemort.

 Snape for his part was responsible for the deaths of Lucius (while money changes  everything, it can't change death—usually. Well, in this case anyway), Wormtail (Snape beat him to death with Peter's silver hand), McNair, Crabbe Sr., Goyle  Sr. and all the other Death Eaters—both real and those imaginary ones created by  overzealous authors. He was hailed as a hero not only because he defeated all the evil minions of the Dark Lord but because he managed to do it while wearing  leather trousers and with his hair whipping heroically around his face. The  pictures Colin Creevey took show his thin muscularity and there is nothing a  female witch loves more than a tall, dark man with long hair, a sexy voice, and  intelligence, wearing leather trousers that show off a tight bum and  well-muscled thighs who defeats evil-doers without breaking a sweat. (Why he was  wearing leather trousers is a question that inspires much discussion even to this day.)

 Hermione’s contribution to the effort was to create a spell that would make the evil of Voldemort disappear from the earth forever—or rather, disappear into the earth forever. She broke up the evilness into small bundles and transformed them into pretty little flowers that flourished on a hillside.

 Ron Weasley wore a Weasley jumper that was bright, fire-engine red and served to  draw the Death Eaters out as a decoy. The Death Eaters thought he was Harry Potter in a Weasley jumper (despite the obviously red and not black hair) and came out of hiding to try to attack him. It was very heroic. He survived of  course.

 Minerva McGonagall transformed into her cat form and clawed the eyes out of the Minister of Magic after he tried to again deny that the Dark Lord existed. Since there is no way to try a cat in court, she got off scott free.

 The rest of our favorite characters, from Sirius Black to Remus Lupin to  Millicent Bulstrode all made interesting contributions to the fight which are outside the scope of this rambling and pointless manuscript.

 The battle was won and evil was wiped from the face of the earth—or transformed into little earthly flowers. Whichever, it’s essentially unimportant to the real story.

 The wizarding world threw a party to end all parties. The great hall was  decorated with all sorts of magical stuff and everyone got drunk and shot off  sparks with their wands. After the celebrations—that managed to cause a supernova  that defied all physical laws and was visible three hundred and  seventy years earlier than it should have been—the wizarding world returned to  normal (or as normal as the wizarding world ever got).

 Harry graduated with honors in Quidditch and DADA; Ron graduated and was known  just as the Friend of The Boy Who Lived much to his dismay. Draco (who was on  the good side all along but was just an arsehole) graduated also. His father came as a ghost and cheered ghostly cheers when his son was pronounced a  graduate. All who attended agreed that Lucius Malfoy was much nicer as a ghost than as a living person.

 Hermione (after being a teaching assistant for Charms, Potions, Arithmancy, and Transfiguration as well as finishing her seventh year, doing several honors  projects, tutoring her fellow students, and getting thrown back in time for a  little while) decided to go on to a wizarding university that even J.K. Rowling  hadn’t heard of. She decided to major in...everything.

 Harry went on to play Quidditch for some oddly named national team. Ron had married either Lavender or Parvati (no one is sure which) and proceeded to have seven kids in the ten years so far. Albus Dumbledore was not killed in the final  battle (in fact, at over 150 years of age, he had slept through most of  it—waking up only for the supernova). Dumbledore went on being the headmaster,  twinkling and smiling at the students for the next ten years. But even someone  as immortal as Dumbledore needs a change of pace. He decided to retire to the Florida Keys where he felt the locals would really understand his fashion sense. A new headmaster would be needed. Thus our story begins…
 

 ***
Hermione stared up at the towers of the school. It had been nearly ten years since she had been at the front door (excluding all those reunions that Dumbledore began calling. Of course, the reunions were just for those who graduated in Harry Potter’s year and none of the rest (except for Ginny Weasley  who got invited to everything) of the years. And only the main characters ever  came to them). So, if one didn’t count those frequently infrequent occasions,  she had been away from the school for a decade. And what a long decade it had  been. Practically ten years.

 With a happy, contented, and even pleased sigh, Hermione Granger began the climb  to the entrance hall. When she got there a giant bat stopped her with a snarl.

 Hold it a moment, the reader thinks, bats don’t *snarl*. And the reader would be  right in most cases. In this one, the bat did snarl. Severus Snape, overgrown  bat, sneered, snarled and scoffed as Hermione made her way through the door.
“Miss Granger,” he said silkily, “much as I am sure you love to return to this school, don’t you believe it is time to let go of the past and move on with your life?”

“Why Professor Snape,” Hermione replied just as silkily, “How very nice to see you too. Such a warm welcome home from my favorite professor.”

“Welcome home?” Snape sneered. “I would hardly welcome you to a place I would  just as soon see you leave. You know where the door is, make use of it.” He spoke to her as though she were a first year student and not a grown up woman  (who was older than her actual age because she used a time-turner in her third  year and because of being thrown back into time).

 But she was not a first year student and therefore not frightened of the bat  man. Hermione smiled at the slightly irate potions master. “You certainly haven’t learned any manners in the past ten years,” she sighed.

 Severus sighed too. “Miss Granger,” he said with exaggerated patience, “if you  don’t mind, I am actually working here.” He looked about as sour as a glass of  grandma's lemonade.

 “Really? I don’t see any cauldrons. Perhaps you have taken up ‘silly wand waving’?”

 “Actually, no. I am waiting for the new Headmaster of the school. Since your  nose has likely been buried in books for the past ten years, you wouldn’t have  heard that Albus has retired.”

 Hermione blinked. It wasn’t that she hadn’t heard Albus retired—it was that she was completely flummoxed that Snape hadn’t heard who the replacement for the  venerable ancient wizard was. Ooh, she thought, this is going to be bloody amusing! ...almost as amusing as that time we turned his cauldron into a toaster  and all it would do was pop out burnt toast.

 “Actually Professor,” she said with a poisonous smile, “I had heard about Dumbledore's retirement." She paused. "In fact, I have also heard who his  replacement is to be.”

 Snape arched an eyebrow at the impertinent, diminutive witch.

 Answering his silent query, she continued, “I am surveying the grounds and  familiarizing myself with them.” He narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off by saying, “After all, as your new boss, I feel it is my duty to know every aspect of the school.” She paused to allow the shock to  settle in. Again, he tried to speak, but she interrupted his half formed words. “I expect to see your syllabus for the coming year on my desk in an hour.  Perhaps you can bring it with a smile, that’s something that’s one of the few features of the castle I have yet to see.”

 With that, Hermione brushed by the speechless professor and headed off to the Headmaster—Headmistress’ office.

Snape gaped and blinked.