Professor Snape turned off his alarm, and rolled out of bed. Another beautiful morning!

He took off his pyjamas and headed for the shower. He stood under the warm stream of water for a few minutes, enjoying the feeling. Then he squeezed a generous amount of his favourite mint shampoo onto his palm and began to massage it into his scalp, working up a good lather. He was whistling a jaunty tune as he started to rinse the foam out of his hair and gave his body a good scrub with a yellow sponge shaped like a lemon.

He stepped out of the shower and grabbed the fluffy purple towel hanging from the bathroom door. He toweled dry his chest and arms and bent down to do the same to his long legs. Then he wrapped the towel around his head like a turban. “Ha ha, I look like Quirrel”, he laughed as he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror while spreading shaving foam over his chin. He wouldn't be caught dead in a turban! He carefully dragged the blade over his cheeks. After rinsing his face he took a close look at himself in the mirror to check if he had missed any stubble. Perfect. “Don’t forget to brush your teeth, pet”, the kindly mirror sternly reminded him. “Thank you, my dear, I never remember to do that”, said the professor, squeezing toothpaste onto his toothbrush.

When he finished flossing he took the towel off his head and started to comb his hair. It felt lovely and smooth and shiny and smelled of mint. Then he got dressed with his usual meticulousness.

He checked his briefcase to see if he had everything he needed for today’s lesson. The students were bound to enjoy class today: he would teach them a potion to change their appearance to anything they wished for exactly 26 minutes. He was a little too hard on them sometimes; they deserved a treat, poor things.

He threw his cloak over his shoulders and stepped out of his room, making his way along the corridor towards the great hall for a quick cup of tea before his first lesson. He was nearly there when suddenly he heard a high-pitched voice behind him. Oh crap.

“Good morning Professor Snivelly!” cackled Peeves. The potions master quickened his steps. He sighed inwardly. Not again! “Not so fast professor! You forgot to use conditioner!” And the ghost
emptied a bottle of cooking oil onto his head. Snape was furious. He bellowed: “Peeves! You’ve been doing this every day for the past 15 years! It wasn’t funny then, and it isn’t funny now! I swear, if you do it one more time--!” But the poltergeist had whizzed away, cackling hysterically after dropping the empty bottle with a crash.

Snape’s good mood had evaporated. His lovely bouncy hair was covered in grease and hung limply about his face. And it smelled horrible. He ground his teeth. There was no time now to go back and shower again. It was no use. He would just have to bite the bullet and go to class like he was. Fuming, he decided to make the little dunderheads chop flobberworms instead. The cheeky brats would only ask him why he didn’t use the potion on himself.

Maybe he would get a turban after all.