Professor McGonagall swung the door open as she said, "And this will be your quarters."
The new teacher followed her inside, glancing around. The room was spacious but rather bare, looking very un-lived in. A single step up and a low rail divided the bedroom from the sitting room.
"The bathroom is through there," said McGonagall, pointing at a door across the room, "and you have a lovely view of the Hogwarts graveyard from here."
"Oh, really?" The new teacher crossed the room to look out the window. He could see a row of gravestones and then. . ."Um, Professor McGonagall?"
"Yes, Professor Entwhistle."
"What exactly is that?"
"Hmm?" Professor McGonagall came to stand beside him, her heels clicking briskly on the flagstone floor. She peered around him and said, "Oh, that. That's Professor Snape. He teaches NEWT level Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts."
"THAT'S Severus Snape? The Saviour of Slytherin?"
McGonagall frowned at the new teacher. "I know Severus is several years younger than you but surely you've heard of him."
"Well, of course I've heard of him! What wizard hasn't? I was just wondering. . .well, I expected him to be. . .what exactly is he doing out there?"
"What does it look like he's doing? He's dancing on Tom Riddle's grave."
Entwhistle took a moment to realize his mouth was hanging open, which probably accounted for the doubtful look the Headmistress was giving him. It took the new teacher a moment to collect his thoughts. "Dancing. . .on You-Know-Who's grave?"
"Come now, Professor Entwhistle. Everyone is suppose to say Riddle's name. Remember?"
"Yes, yes, of course." Entwhistle waved the correction away. "But why is Professor Snape dancing on You. . .Riddle's grave?"
"It's how he celebrates the Defeat of the Dark Lord. Doesn't your family celebrate DDL Day? Go to the Potter Weasley Cup Quidditch Match? Burn the Malfoy family in effigy?"
"Of course we celebrate, Professor!" Entwhistle exclaimed. "I always buy a book and donate it to the Hermione Granger Elf Literary Society. But . . .dancing on a grave?"
"Severus has always had an. . .unusual way of dealing with these occasions."
"Quite." Entwhistle looked out the window again. "What exactly is he wearing on his head?"
McGonagall glanced out. "I believe it is called a sombrero."
"And the things in his hands, they'd be maracas, then."
"And the band? With those odd sized instruments?"
McGonagall shrugged. "Mariachi, I think he calls them. Has them brought in by trans-Atlantic portkey from North America. Or is it South America? I can never remember. Somewhere over there." She gestured vaguely towards the west.
Professor Entwhistle couldn't think of anything else to say. He supposed, since the famous Professor Snape, Saviour of Slytherin, Protector of Potter, and Unexpected Hero Who Wore Black, had been in the thick of the whole Riddle War, Snape had a right to celebrate DDL Day any way he liked. Personally, Entwhistle preferred buying a book and reading it by the light of a burning Malfoy effigy but to each his own.
"Come along," commanded McGonagall sharply, drawing Entwhistle's gaze away from Severus Snape dancing on the grave, "I'll show you the staff room."