Who: Mostly Severus Snape
What: CANON PLOT, BITCHEZZZZ! Read and find out.
Where: The Hog's Head
When: 20 February 1980

Snape resisted the urge to fidget with his robes, of which he was sure the starched collar was planning on strangling him at some point in the evening. He had been sitting in The Hog's Head for close to a half-hour and there had been no sign of Dumbledore. After a few scrutinizing glances from the barkeep, Snape shrank into one of the corner tables that allowed him an unobstructed view of the door and waited. And waited. And just when Snape had begun to think that his reliable source was mistaken about when exactly Albus Dumbledore would grace this painfully dusty bar with his presence, the door opened and in walked the great wizard himself, sweeping through the main room and a small doorway leading to a narrow staircase.

He stared at the spot where Dumbledore had stepped just out of his field of vision and waited approximately two minutes before ensuring that the barman's attention was elsewhere before slipping up the stairs, after him.

As Snape made his way to the second level, he cursed the Dark Lord for his inane order and criticized every other Death Eater he knew of for not being "qualified enough" to apply for a teaching position. A teaching position, him! Snape had never heard of anything more ridiculous in his life. Naturally, the Dark Lord had other plans, other uses for him within those hallowed halls, but if Snape believed he was going to be informed of them, he would be sorely mistaken. And how was he supposed to win over the Headmaster of Hogwarts, to apply for a job that he had not expressed any formal interest in? Why, with his personable nature and affable manner, naturally!

Oh, the Dark Lord was so funny! The only plan of action Snape had even remotely thought of was waiting on Dumbledore's first interview before harassing and pleading his way into Dumbledore accepting an interview with him. It was simple, it was asinine, but Snape was content with his lack of creative approaches, given that he wanted a teaching position as much as he wanted his fingers broken.

There was a very short hallway on the second floor—Snape assumed the rooms behind the doors were a combination of private rooms, office space, and storage. The lit doorframe, however, was the only one he was interested in. Leaning against the wall, he pressed an ear to the closed door and heard slightly muffled voices. The Transfiguration hopeful was doing her best to sound confident and capable, two things Snape was certain she wasn't, and the tone of Dumbledore's voice sounded as if he agreed. He sank to the floor with his knees up, straining to keep up with the threads of the conversation, but finding his mind wandering to various and unpleasant pieces of information that had come to his attention of late.

He couldn't given you an approximation of the time that had passed, but it was a while. The conversation behind the closed door had fluctuated in its loudness, but an abrupt silence had suddenly fallen. Snape frowned, pressing his ear closer to the door. Why had they ceased talking?

"Sibyll?" Dumbledore's muffled voice cut the silence, concern very apparent. "Are you all ri—"

The voice that answered him startled Snape—was there a third person in the room? This voice, this was rougher and deeper than that woman's in there, but—

"THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD APPROACHES," it boomed.

Snape froze. That woman—that—that Seer. Was she—? What was the meaning of this?

"BORN TO THOSE WHO HAVE THRICE DEFIED HIM, BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES."

His eyes widened in horror and shock as the information sank in—something—someone—was coming to end the Dark Lord. A Savior, predicted clear as day by the Prophet.

"AND THE DARK LORD WILL MARK HIM AS HIS EQUAL, BUT HE WILL HAVE POWER THE DARK LORD KNOWS N—"

Snape was so dazed by the news he had just heard, he did not even begin to anticipate the hands that grabbed the back of his robes and harshly jerked him around.