beyondwandpoint | “beyond wandpoint” 091b by gingerbred

“11 12d Wednesday - ...and Whine 1 Assessment” Pt 2

Seventh Years: Draco, Theo Nott, Blaise Zabini, Vincent 'Vince' Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Tracey Davis, Daphne Greengrass, Pansy Parkinson, Alberta Runcorn, Millicent 'Millie' Bulstrode (Reserve Beater), Sixth Years: Harper Hutchinson, Aaron Avery, Sheldon Shafiq, Torsten Touchstone, Portraits: Headmaster Phineas Nigellus Black, Salazar Slytherin, Swaine Swoopstikes (Potions Master, Professor and Entomologist), Wilhelmina Wilkes (DADA Instructor and Head of Slytherin), Various Others: Hunter Hutchinson, Annelise Burke, Crankshaft (Harper's half-Kneazle)

Originally Published: 2018-10-13 on AO3
Chapter: 091 part 2

The original version of this chapter exceeded livejournal’s maximum post length. It’s been split in two parts.

The Slytherin dungeons are arranged quite differently to the other Houses. The perimeter shape seems fairly organic, an irregular outline - lined almost completely with windows to the Black Lake - with many rounded outcroppings, which suggests it follows the natural curve of the bedrock. That's wrong, of course; anyone who knew what Salazar was capable of would realise that instantly, but it never hurts to be underestimated by one's opposition.

The ceilings are exceedingly high, vaulted, reminiscent of a Muggle cathedral, the height permitting the windows to be larger in scale, giving the Snakes an unparalleled view of the Lake and its denizens. Those windows, a good deal more prevalent than in the towers - but then they have the clear advantage of being above ground - are charmed to increase the intensity of the natural light without, so that it's every bit as bright in the dungeons (albeit somewhat green hued) as it is in the other Houses. But at this time of day, at this time of year, in Scotland... That's not very bright at all.

The numerous serpentine sconces and silver hanging globe lanterns countering the gloom are charmed to light an hour before curfew lifts, and naturally are lit now. Anyone rising earlier needs to light their own or manage a Lumos. As that's a Firstie's Charm, it didn't seem to be asking too much.

But what makes the dungeons unusual is far more than just a question of architecture, lighting, or the views from the windows, although they're all as distinctive as the green dragonhide chesterfields and wing chairs dotting the room. What makes the dungeons truly different is they're governed by different rules.

The safety of his charges was of paramount importance to Salazar Slytherin, second only to their education (which all too often showed); they represented the future of their kind, after all, and the Muggles were unfortunately in the overwhelming majority. He also placed a great deal of stock in decorum. One step he took to try to ensure both of these things (and hadn't he been pleased with the efficiency) was a Charm on the witches' quarters that guaranteed any sufficiently loud cry would be audible in all the other girls' rooms. Should one need help, the others would instantly be aware and able to come to her aid. He was perfectly confident in their abilities to do so.

And he was even more confident that measure would soon teach them some restraint. Sure enough, the Slytherin witches quickly learn not to raise their voices excessively unless it actually is an emergency. Their Housemates see to that.

That might not have been one of his better ideas.

Frankly it's been a bit of a plague.

It helps to understand that just like all the other Founders, Salazar hadn't any experience with living with the numbers of children that now surrounded him from dawn to dusk. He found the... din very... confronting. Unlike the others, he'd had fewer qualms about taking steps to manage the situation. In light of how uncomfortable the noise made him, it borders on a wonder he hadn't Charmed the boys' dormitories similarly. Although the decision not to may have coincided with the invention of Salazar's Migraine Powders. He couldn't recommend them enough...

Something else he was convinced of was that only through regular practice could a witch or wizard become truly great. He designed his House to facilitate that. (And obviously that works along much the same lines as leading a horse to water.) The right side of the expansive common room is lined with a series of semi-private rooms; 'private', in as much as they have doors and are soundproofed, 'semi' given that they're faced on two sides with windows that run almost from floor to ceiling, towards the Black Lake and the common room, respectively. These rooms provide the young Snakes with their own library, a silent reading room (the Wizarding Chess and Exploding Snap games in the common room can become quite lively), a music room and facilities for crafts. Admittedly thanks to the expanses of glass, the acoustics in the music room have never been quite right, but as Salazar himself hadn't played an instrument... He hadn't noticed, and sadly no one had dared to point it out before he left the school.

These rooms open to students two hours before curfew lifts, and close an hour after curfew begins. (The ejection should one overstay one's welcome is rather... brutal.) Salazar found the students generally far less likely to rise early for mischief. That assessment holds, unchallenged, to the present day.

Across from the main fireplace, a raised dais in the middle of the right wall leads to the parallel staircases to the dormitories, which snake back far into the lake. Although both corridors are windowless - they share a common wall - the bedrooms leading off of them, too, benefit from the Charmed windows to the Lake. The oldest students are housed closest to the common room, the youngest furthest back. It was again meant to increase safety for the most vulnerable, while attempting to minimise the disturbance their disparate sleep requirements might cause, as the older students would presumably return later and leave earlier. (He may have been gravely mistaken about the second assumption, particularly on the weekends, when in pursuit of more sleep, many of the older teens would happily forego breakfast. And sometimes lunch, too.)

These staircases are bracketed by doors on either side to the two training rooms, one for physical exercise - considering the dearth of Muggle-raised in their House, it unsurprisingly more closely resembles a medieval torture chamber than a fitness studio, although there are a surprising number of commonalities - and the other for the students to test their magic. It's a true testament to the strength of Slytherin's Spells that after a millennium the glass walls of these rooms have never been breached.

Of course, given the House is underwater, that would have been catastrophic.

The location may or may not have been one of his more enlightened inspirations. He'd argue that it had enabled him to create a more generous complex. More sensible, more cautious heads might counter that it might not be worth the risk. Naturally he'd rejoin that his Spells are still holding, and were future Heads of House to renew the Charms... Of course it might have helped had he better documented them.

Nevertheless, as part of his safety first - well, second - concept, Salazar had jars of Gillyweed stationed at regular intervals throughout the dungeons, and all window and door frames have Warming Charms integrated in the thresholds. In the event of a breach, the students should presumably be able to swim for safety - although preferably for the exit and not through the Lake if no one has thought to renegotiate their truce with the Merpeople in the interim... (They have not.) Naturally he'd turn in his grave were he ever to realise that swimming instruction had been struck from the curriculum along with so many other useful things last century. As with almost everything else during that horrible restructuring, it hadn't really been thought through.

Given how poorly his portrait had responded to the notion of Arithmancy, which seemed at least moderately defensible to most of them, the Snakes have been circumspect enough not to mention it. For nearly a century and a quarter now. That says something. (Primarily that they're tired of hearing him bang on about Arithmancy, and have no wish to provide him with another stanza.)

The dais and the two practice rooms are the only areas outside the dorms exempted from the uniform requirements (and here as well, those were slightly more relaxed in the common areas than elsewhere, starting only when classes begin in the mornings). It seemed sensible to allow for more suitable clothing when students wished to take some exercise. As one must cross the dais in full view of the common room to reach those chambers, Salazar relied on public censure, peer pressure to assure the training costumes didn't become too outlandish.

It's proven rather effective.

In accordance with this, fairly merciless teasing of one's Housemates was effectively encouraged, and the sarcastic tone has prevailed until the present day.

That also might not have been one of his better ideas.

There were numerous other departures. For example, there were some marked differences between Godric Gryffindor's and Salazar Slytherin's approaches to separating the sexes. Where Godric had enchanted the girls' staircase in his House to ensure no boy could enter their dorms, Salazar, who was far-sighted, fairly shrewd, and fortunately a good deal less stiff (despite his fondness for decorum) than his portrait might lead one to believe, had had other ideas.

But then he was often held to be a radical thinker.

And frequently misunderstood.

One of the things Salazar was absolutely sure about was that the morals of the day should at some point in the future come to be viewed as outdated. He considered it possible that they could become either more or less strict. Although he believed the latter more probable, he wished to allow for either, and he gave quite some thought as to how the dorms could be Charmed to account for that. Finally he decided the best solution was the inverse of the one the other Founders preferred.

As usual, that went over well.

Undeterred and firmly convinced of the strength of his logic and resultant convictions, he forbade girls access to the boys dormitories after curfew. No exceptions. To his way of thinking, a single witch might be less... safe faced with such a number of armed wizards. He couldn't countenance the risks inherent in Godric's solution.

But he could imagine a time (not that he cared to envision it) when mores might change and perhaps a late night visit would be deemed... appropriate. He felt his solution provided for that. (Some might argue with that assessment, but it was more than most allowed.)

Up to two wizards are permitted access to the witches' dormitories at any one time after hours, if the witches are willing to receive them that is. He was of the opinion that the witches tended to be more conservative - perhaps having more... at stake, as it were - and placed the decision in their hands. Two young blokes, faced with a dorm full of armed young women, all only a shout away, he felt that their wishes would ultimately be respected in that regard. He wasn't wrong.

Here again, unable to predict the future and not himself skilled at Divination, he decided to allow consensus, the peers to be the judge of what could be considered appropriate. He was relying on the presence of other witches in the dorms to keep any assignations... safe, and at least reasonably... reserved. Temporally appropriate. It's not by coincidence that Privacy Charms are seldom taught to those under the age of majority, and of course they require a certain maturity to be cast effectively. Particularly in light of the Charm that trumpeted any loud noises into all the other bedroom suites, yes, he'd found the solution satisfactory.

In another deviation to the common course, both sexes can visit the other's dorms before curfew. Anyone who has ever had to share living quarters with such a great number of people for so long should surely be able to understand the occasional need to withdraw to a quieter area, Salazar most certainly had, and he couldn't see putting either sex at a disadvantage in this regard. He was confident in the students' abilities to keep an eye on one another. He also assumed that would become more difficult when those eyes could reasonably be expected to be closed, the majority of students fast asleep.

As such, after curfew the rules change. Any witch attempting to take the boys' stairs will find it magically rendered a serpentine slide of stone. Quite a variety of attempts have been made to climb the slide, witches naturally aren't prone to accepting defeat, and clearly not in his House, but should one reach the top, they'd encounter a barrier not unlike the one that keeps Kneazles from the common areas whenever an allergy sufferer resides in the House.

Still, it had amused Salazar greatly in his time to watch the witches try. He valued creativity nearly as much as decorum. It's the cornerstone trait to being a good Slytherin after all, seeing the beyond the obvious.

Sensible witches (of which there are many) simply attempt to take the stair rail in hand to see if the barrier is still in effect. It's simpler and a good deal more dignified. Salazar had cared about that, although fully recognised that not everyone did, but he did like to provide a more decorous option for those of like mind.

Further, there are two notable restrictions: no witch may enter the boys' dorms without her wand, and no wizard may enter the girls' wing with his, day or night. (And the Prefects have yet to explain that to the Firsties without someone feeling the need to make a frightfully unoriginal pun. It's a source of never ending joy.) There might not be a way to permanently equalise the typical differences in physical strength between the genders, but a witch was every bit as powerful as a wizard with her wand in hand, and Salazar meant to see that it remained that way.

There's a rack at the entry to girls' dormitories for the boys' wands. A Possession Line guarantees that no wand can be removed by anyone but the owner. It was a Charm of Salazar's own devising, just for that purpose, and he was - rightly so - quite proud of it. It has an additional safety feature, any attempt to remove someone else's wand alerts the owner immediately. If the attempt is in earnest, the would-be thief receives a proportionate shock. If it isn't, and it very rarely is - that's one lesson the Snakes have passed along conscientiously through the decades - then it can be used to signal the owner that someone else is waiting.

That's particularly... useful when the available... billets are filled. And it proves highly... distracting to be continually summoned in such a fashion if one's trying to have a... cuddle.

A variety of customs emerged as a result of all this. First and foremost, due to the lack of acceptance with which Salazar's ideas were greeted, in addition to their Oaths not to share information from the Poste Serpentes, all Slytherins swear to never reveal House secrets to members of other Houses. That particular Oath was deliberately crafted to permit contact with other schools, where perhaps their ideas might meet with more tolerance.

And despite that, they usually keep to their own numbers.

Harper's relieved to see only one wand in the rack as he quickly slots his into place. That had been a slight worry, that he might not be able to even enter the dorms yet. But after yesterday's... events the chances had been good. And he could account for all the sixth and seventh year boys, after all. He grins a little at thought of the seventh years.

At a guess, the wand belongs to Gilbert Gibbon, a Firstie whose godfather-cum-uncle had apparently died under mysterious circumstances last summer. There were rumours he'd been a Death Eater, and died because of it, neither of which has made things easier for the family. The Slytherins don't speak of it, naturally, but that certainly doesn't stop the rest of the school. The boy has had problems sleeping all term, and often seeks comfort from his sister Gisele, one of the fourth years. There'd been a few complaints.

Harper knocks on the seventh year girls' door. Daphne, still in her nightdress and robe, answers.

"Oh, hullo, Daphne." She greets him with a slight blush. Try as she might, she'll never be a good Snake. Pansy might take it for a sign of weakness, but Harper happens to think the bit of colour to her cheeks is rather becoming. Merlin knows, enough witches use Charms for that sort of thing. "I'm sorry to bother you so early, but I need to speak with you. All of you," he clarifies when she looks confused.

She turns to see if everyone is decent - Pansy quickly casts the Charms on her face and then nods, Tracey merely shrugs, adjusting her dressing gown, and Millie and Alberta are already in the showers - then Daphne opens the door wider. "Of course, Harper. Please come in."

"It's just the three of us at the moment, though," Tracey points out. Harper's inclined to think that leaves him with the three more useful amongst them, but is smart enough to keep that to himself.

He's just begun explaining the situation - as Blaise had related it to him, that is; Slytherins excel at Chinese Whispers, ever careful to mind the nuances - when Alberta comes out of the showers wearing a towel around her waist and nothing more. Harper's reflexes are good, and he quickly turns to face the wall, his hands up in a surrendering gesture, his gaze trained on the ceiling. "Sorry, Alberta," he does his best to disarm the situation.

"Knock, would you, Hutchinson. And you, a Prefect..." Alberta admonishes, never raising her voice and largely uncaring if he'd gotten a peek at her tits, but unwilling to let a chance to put a sixth year in his place pass, and a Prefect at that. No, she wouldn't let a chance like that slide.

"He did," Daphne is quick to defend him, and as always, interested in being fair.

Unimpressed, Alberta takes her towel off and throws it at him. Before it can hit the back of his head, although it's close enough he feels the draught, Daphne has a Protego up to shield him, and the wet fabric slides harmlessly to the ground. That's a clear advantage to having taken Professor Snape's self defence class, the speed with which she casts it - wandlessly.

And to not being one of the boys.

"Uh, thanks for that," he tells Daphne. "I did knock, and Daphne let me in. I can't do more than that," he complains to Alberta, who, suddenly (and so surprisingly) now without other means of drying herself, is stuck applying Drying Charms before she can slip into her uniform.

"So what did you want from us?" Pansy prompts. He tries again, keeping his tone as even as possible as he continues to make his case. Daphne and Tracey are alright. But he doesn't trust the Parkinsons' connections, and the Runcorns... they're a whole different matter. No, he has no interest in exposing himself to any risks for this. He simply presents the facts as he knows them and relays Blaise's request for aid.

Which really doesn't make it all that much more effective than had Blaise done it himself. In fact, as it's lacking Zabini's (half-)Italian charm, or much of any in substitution, it's probably less so. Blaise hadn't really considered that point, and it hadn't been in Harper's interests to mention it.

No one says anything when Harper finishes, taking a moment to think it through. That's probably not a good sign for the seventh year boys.

"Isn't that Blaise's robe?" Alberta tries to goad him further. As if it could be any other. But if it serves to buy them more time to think, all the better. She doesn't wait for an answer. "It looks ridiculous on you. In fact, so much so, I think I'll use it next time I encounter a Boggart."

"Because that happens all the time...." Harper mutters.

"And those carpet slippers!" She croons. Towards the end it borders more on a cackle. All she's missing is the wart...

"So will you come help them?" He asks the others, not to be deterred. He makes rather a habit of ignoring Runcorn anyway.

And still no one answers.

"I could Transfigure them for you," Daphne finally speaks up, stalling a little more. She has her eye on Tracey and Pansy, both of whom seem to have a better grasp of the dangers of the current political situation. She knows Tracey is likely to do too little in an effort to avoid the wrong kind of attention, and Pansy is likely to go too far, be too cruel. At least as Daphne sees it. She tries to adjust her behaviour accordingly. But when both of the other girls are in agreement, it's usually safe to just follow their lead. "I'm good with cloth. I think I could even match the robe..."

Harper doesn't have a chance to answer, one way or the other, but as Daphne waves her wand, his slippers shift and then go sort of flat, crumbling around his feet until he's left standing, barefooted, on a pile of lint. He stands there blinking at that, highly unexpected, Alberta snorts her laughter, and Daphne immediately protests, "I'm not as bad as all that! I'm good at Transfiguration!" To which Tracey mutters something under her breath about 'Fwoopers' that Harper doesn't quite catch. But Runcorn should shut her yob; Daph's likely to get her N.E.W.T. in the course after all, Runcorn hadn't even managed her O.W.L.

"What were they originally?" Daphne asks Harper a little plaintively, narrowing in on the source of the problem.

"Oh, uh, I honestly don't remember at this point." Which he takes for a much better answer than one of the rags from under their leaky kitchen sink at home, Transfigured with his father's wand on the sly last summer.

Daphne suspects something along those lines - frankly, she assumes it's something either more embarrassing or incriminating - and doesn't push it. She just studies the results, does a few calculations in her head and then prepares to cast again.

Well aware the girls are playing for time, Harper starts in on the Quidditch aspect, and Millie, now also returned from the showers (with her towel wrapped more thoroughly about her) immediately chimes in her agreement.

"He's right, we need to get those two back on the pitch. We are not losing to the Moggies. Not for any price." Which of course helps explain why Harper is the new owner of Blaise's robe.

Pansy gives her a warning look, they've spoke about this after all, but won't say anything in front of the boy, which Millie had sort of been relying on. She'd promised Hestia and Val she'd try, after all. She'll be damned if she lets her teammates down. Er, that is to say she wouldn't dream of it. Yes, that.

"So do you think you could come give us a hand then?" Harper prompts.

The girls still seem hesitant, and then Daph coos, "There! I've got it." And he looks down and, Merlin, she has. His new slippers - babouches - are actually quite nice in the deep green of the robe with silver threads, matching the brocade, running through them in the form of glistening little snakes, and they're warm against the dungeon's slight chill.

He's about to thank her when Tracey interrupts, seeming to have come to a decision, but Daphne caught his smile at the results and is more than satisfied. Honestly, anything else probably would only have caused her to blush again, and then the girls would have teased her. She's pleased with her work. If she could have thought of a way of Transfiguring his slippers sooner without insulting him - she's been considering that since the beginning of term after all - she would have. And this way, she'd even had a nicer goal to work towards. Yes, that was all quite satisfactory.

She might have to see if she can find a Charm to animate the snakes. That really would be the crowning touch. And even Blaise's sodding Silly-Slippers hadn't done that...

"I'm going to take a shower and get ready first and then I'll come over and see what I can do," Tracey informs him. Naturally, that doesn't mean she'll do it. As the room is full of Slytherins, no one missed that fact (although it takes Millie a moment longer to register it), but it makes her look more cooperative and is the better tactical move. Naturally.

"Couldn't you come over first? I'd hate to waste any more time, and they'll still need to get ready. If they'll even be able to go to class, that is." At best, Blaise is going to give him grief for this.

"Harper, curfew is still on." She casts a Tempus to prove it. "It isn't wasting time; it's being efficient. We can't get in there anyway. So if it's all the same to you, I'm going to finish getting ready." Tracey, as ever the quintessential ice queen (except for when she's vexed), turns and heads for the showers. A bit sheepishly, Daphne starts after her.

"Daph," Harper begins, a little nervously, stealing a look over his shoulder in her direction, "Aren't you going to come help?"

"Tracey has a point..." She replies, turning to face him apologetically. Harper looks somewhat disappointed, if not Daphne who can he convince, because she's pretty much the softest - no, that's mean-spirited and really not fair - the kindest of the lot... "But we'll be right over, I promise." And with that she trots off after Tracey towards the showers.

He sighs. Belatedly, it occurs to him he should have emphasised Theo's condition, Daphne would have been sure to come over right away then. But then Blaise hadn't given him much information to work with there. And realistically, he thinks helping Theo is less likely to be a draw for the remaining witches. Normally that would be true, but he's forgetting that unlike the others, Theo hadn't been blamed for the Head's bonding. Daphne's made certain that the girls have that well in mind. It's a shame the boys haven't given that as much thought.

Harper turns to face the other three girls in the room. Runcorn, now clothed, is doing her best to pretend he isn't there by this point. On balance, he secretly prefers that to her attention. He ignores her right back. Millie seems like she's willing to help. The fact she probably won't be much of one is another matter. If Blaise couldn't sort a problem, Millie certainly won't be able to do so. But, what she can do is set an example. Her willingness to help might encourage someone else to do so who's actually more capable.

"Millie, you'll come right over?"

"Sure, Harper, just as soon as I'm dressed and have my things for classes together," and then she does exactly what he'd hoped for. She turns to Parkinson, "You'll come, too, won't you, Panse?" Pansy's eyes narrow, this really was sort of the point of last night's meeting, now wasn't it, but there's no stopping Millie. "We need your help to get them practiceworthy."

Pansy sighs, her annoyance still audible in that slight sound. "Fine. Tell you what, Harper, I'll even skip my shower. I'll just perform a few Charms, get dressed, and be right with you."

"Thanks, I appreciate it." He manages to hide his surprise. He hadn't expected it, but on the other hand, once Pansy commits, she tends to do a thing properly. That's definitely one of her strengths. "I'll just, uh, go wait outside..."

"Do that," Alberta agrees a bit snidely.

The sixth year withdraws to the hallway, shutting the door behind him, and takes up position leaning against the wall. There are no portraits in the dormitory wings to criticise his posture after all. All in all, it probably went as well as it could have. Blaise should be pleased.

Or he can get stuffed.

Harper examines his slippers with some satisfaction as he stands there. It was a bigger, more detailed Transfiguration than he could manage, he knows it - even with his own wand - which is why he hadn't bothered trying again since he got back to Hogwarts. And Harper hadn't quite wanted to go to Professor Snape with something as mundane as slippers like he does with his school robes at the start of each year. That felt like it might be pushing things. He'd hate to wear out his welcome, especially as Hunter will still need the Head's help after Harper has graduated. He probably should have just asked Ella or Daph if they'd mind doing them long ago, but he'd been too proud. And they'd probably been too polite, too considerate to offer...

Pansy checks a mirror to see if she needs to adjust the Charms on her face. She's gratified to see that her initial cast had been good enough not to need touching up. That's probably an advantage to the practice regular application provides. A few more Charms, Cleansing and a Convesto to get dressed, followed by another on her hair to increase the shine and bounce - she has an image to maintain - and in minutes she's ready to join Harper.

"Millie, are you ready?"

"Sorry, Panse..." Millie frankly isn't as good with a wand, and having gotten dressed manually, still has to gather her things for the day. Somehow having worked with Vince in the Infirmary last night and then returned to the... distraction of the girls' meeting... She hadn't prepared her learning materials the night before as she prefers to. "Do you just want to go ahead, and I'll catch up?"

Pansy agrees and joins Harper in the hallway. "The others will follow," she tells him without stopping, leading him back to the common room at a brisk pace. Harper actually has to hurry to catch up, which strikes him as funny considering the respective lengths of their legs. Pansy doesn't notice.

When they reach the dungeon, Harper doesn't even pause to retrieve his wand immediately, preferring to take in her reaction to Vince first. The sight sure is something, and even Pansy loses control over her normally schooled expression.

Just the once.

Gregory, still on his knees beside Vince's couch, finishes sawing at the last of the stitches holding the Beater's mouth shut. There'd been some screams along the way, once he'd gotten Vince's mouth open enough so he could do so. They've subsided into whimpers both boys will pretend didn't happen, just like the tears that flow freely down his cheeks to puddle with the drool. Vince is too done in by the ordeal to even voice his thanks. Gregory takes it as given.

There are a number of cuts on his face that would seem to indicate the portraits had had the right of it, a Diffindo would have been devastating, and the remainder of the stitches - numerous rough, twisted black threads crisscrossed over both lips - are still very visible. They may need to be pulled if there isn't a Charm for it, but Gregory thought that was best left for someone with more Charms at their disposal. Or maybe Potions.

Either way, obviously someone else.

Mindful of the need to clear this before anyone else joins them, even if the circumstances aren't ideal, he leans forward and softly whispers to Vince, "Do you have any mental performance enhancers, maybe something like a Wit-Sharpening Potion or Scintillation Solution, that we could give to Draco? We need something. He's really out of it."

Vince groans, wondering how Draco could possibly be worse off than he is, his three Serpents be hanged, but manages to answer, "I've got some strange kind of Wit. Just the one?" Gregory agrees and Vince gives him permission to get some - just the one - from his trunk. Gregory assumes, correctly, the formal phrasing is down to some kind of anti-theft protection on Vince's trunk and doesn't ask. It's hardly the time for it, and if it's for what he thinks it's for, Vince wouldn't be forthcoming anyway.

"He'll owe you," he assures his friend. Both are confident Draco won't take issue with that. He's generally proud and scrupulous about meeting his obligations - no matter what his aunt seems to think (that would be far easier to understand if they knew what the witch actually wanted from him) - he can easily meet any price with indifference, and Vince wouldn't dare ask anything unreasonable anyway. They're both quite sure this won't be an issue.

Vince grunts into the couch (presumably in agreement), his cheek still stuck fast, before answering, "I was counting on it. Something has to go right today." It's not even quarter to eight and he's already written the day off. He may have cause. His words are badly slurred, which makes perfect sense given he can't move half of his face properly. Couches can be such a hindrance to one's range of motion after all. At least when one's magically glued to them anyway.

Gregory can't help thinking Vince reminds him of his Gran after she had her stroke and before St. Mungo's righted her. Well, if his Gran had had purple, sparkly fairy wings. And black nails. And mouldy hair... Really, he looks nothing at all like Gregory's Gran, he just sort of sounds like her. Well, like she used to.

Which is when Pansy enters the room. "What on earth happened here?"

They don't know where to begin.

Harper's description hadn't done it justice. But then he deliberately hadn't mentioned the wings. In the first place, he doesn't know what the Charm is called and in the second, and probably far more crucial to that decision, he just didn't want to ruin the surprise.

As she stands there, goggling, Gregory sort of helplessly tries to cover the ground Harper had, only his attempts have less direction and aplomb. Vince inserts an occasional word, but mostly just grunts, which only makes Gregory's narrative even more difficult to follow. Not that her question had been anything other than rhetorical. Only when the shock is no longer apparent on Pansy's face does Harper redirect his attention to fetching his wand.

Fourth year Annelise Burke joins them now on the dais, her Searing Sousaphone in hand and eager to get at least a half an hour of practice in before breakfast. Or that had been the plan. She forgets her goal completely at the sight of Vince. "Merlin..." There's a brief flare of recognition that no one notes when she spots the threads around his mouth. It's more likely to have been Bartholomew than their younger sister Marguerite, and both Burke girls, arriving at the same conclusion, will give him appraising nods when they later meet. Even the normally chatty Marguerite won't tell a soul what she suspects.

Recovering, somewhat, Pansy crosses to the boys' stairs, Harper trailing as Gregory clumsily rabbits on, and reaches a hand towards the stair rail only to be repelled. It still isn't time yet. It's telling that she means to check on Draco first and wouldn't even spare Vince's situation a closer look until she's done so. Harper proceeds to stop there as well, meaning to wait with her. Possibly to help ensure she doesn't change her mind.

"You can go ahead," she tells him. "It's not as though I'm likely to get lost along the way." The sarcasm is evident, but Harper is used to it and not planning to move.

"Oh! Wait a moment," Gregory calls out to his teammate, not having grasped that Harper was intent on staying anyway. "Would you mind keeping an eye on Vince for me? Just for a couple of minutes."

Pansy can't help thinking it's hard not to, she's having trouble averting her gaze. She does a Tempus to check how much longer she needs to wait and then sets an alarm so she'll know when to try the stairs again.

Harper readily agrees to keep watch over Vince, and makes a mental note to fetch his camera the first chance he gets. This was better than the towel-wrapped version of Vince from last winter's shower debacle. By far. And he'd sort of been hoping to see everyone's responses to the wings anyway, so this suits him well enough.

And as the others begin to trickle in, it can only get better.

Gregory doesn't think to question his motives, he just bolts off to the seventh years' suite, eager to sort the Potion before Pansy or anyone else gets to the room.

Meanwhile, Harper goes to sit by Vince, taking a seat on the floor with his back against the couch so he's watching the staircases and not the Beater. Naturally that betrays his real interest right there, but then Vince can speak up now if he needs anything, so there's little need to actually keep eyes on him. And really, there isn't much Harper can - or rather: is willing to - do.

"Mr. Hutchinson, what are you wearing?" And for this reason alone, they generally make an effort not to wake Swoopstikes too early in the morning.

"It isn't time yet, Professor," he answers, unperturbed.

"A far more tasteful dressing gown than Mr. Crabbe's, that's for certain," comes Headmaster Black's assessment.

Harper silently agrees, quite pleased with himself, and returns to happily examining his slippers once more.

Blaise has made himself comfortable on Draco's bed, still trying to get through to his friend, when Gregory comes barging into their room.

Theo sadly still lies neglected in his bed. Some of it is personal preference - Blaise is closer to Draco - some is still his annoyance that Theo is presenting as a problem on this of all mornings, some is simply not knowing what to do for him. But it makes a difference, however, a nontrivial one, that Draco is on the Quidditch team, and their captain to boot. None of that will change now that Gregory's returned for exactly the same reasons. It's more important to them to get Draco sorted.

"Quick. We haven't got long. Pansy will be here soon," he calls to the Keeper as he runs for Vince's trunk.

"Harper convinced her then?" He sounds surprised. "You were able to get Vince... talking?" He checks somewhat cautiously. Considering the personalities of the Crabbe family - perhaps not the sharpest, but certainly... unforgiving - raiding his trunk otherwise seems a very poor idea - Merlin knows what Charms guard it - and Blaise really doesn't need another problem on his hands.

"I'm not stupid," Gregory answers, sensing Blaise's hesitation, as he paws through a small collection of phials. That statement would carry more weight if he didn't then have to turn to Blaise and ask, "What does Wit-Sharpening Potion look like? He hasn't labelled them." In as much as that might be a clever countermeasure against pilfering or detection, it makes sense. Given it's a Potion they learnt to brew in their fourth year... It doesn't shine a flattering light on Goyle.

Blaise gets up and goes to join Gregory on the floor next to Vince's trunk. Proving he also isn't always the sharpest, Blaise reaches out a hand, intending to shift the phials to get a better look. Gregory grabs his wrist. "Don't. Just don't. I don't know what he has protecting it, and I don't want to find out the hard way. I've got his permission, just tell me what you want me to do." Apparently he and Blaise have similar suspicions about the trunk. They're reinforced, significantly, by the fact Vince just leaves it unlocked.

"Assuming they haven't added too many things to change it," which is a pretty big assumption right there, "We're looking for a purple one. Sort of a luminescent, bright... purple..." he trails off and Gregory turns to the boy and laughs.

"You mean like his wings?"

Blaise might be blushing a little just now. He loves his complexion dearly. "Yes. Almost exactly like his wings." He clears his throat, and tries to regain his footing. "Don't you recall? We had it fourth year?"

Gregory roots about a bit and then pulls one forward, careful to leave it within the confines of the trunk. He twists it so Blaise can see. "I think I remember it. It's this one, isn't it?" Ironically, this version seems even more... sparkly than usual. Gregory has no intention of ever mentioning the coincidence to Vince.

Only when Blaise nods does he remove it from the trunk. There's a ripple of... something across his hand. It doesn't feel... friendly. Still, his hand emerges unscathed, phial intact. His sigh of relief betrays that he hadn't been quite sure it would. "Here, get it into him. I've no idea how Pansy will feel about this, and I'm not eager to find that out either."

Blaise rather agrees. He props Draco up a little, unstoppers the phial, and prepares to pour it down his gullet.

"Oh, wait! Draco. Draco!" The blond lifts one eyelid and tries to take Gregory in. It seems focus is an issue. "You'll owe Vince for that, yeah? Yeah? Malfoy??" Draco finally manages a nod, and Gregory turns to Blaise again, "Go ahead. Not sure if it makes a difference, but just the same..." Blaise nods his comprehension - the issue isn't the debt, but possession, potential Anti-Theft Charms - and pours the sludgy Potion into their friend's mouth.

They don't have to wait long for a result.

Draco turns a variety of colours, vibrant enough to outshine Vince's wings, his eyes seem to spin and then extrude briefly from his head before settling back in his skull. Finally resembling his usual self more closely than he has all morning, he looks at his friends and demands, "What the hell was that?" They tell him. "For the love of... Tell me it wasn't Baruffio's Brain Elixir!" They both shrug. They can't. Draco's hand shoots up to his nose and he begins feeling around.

"Draco? What are you doing, mate?" Gregory sounds nervous.

Half panicked, the Prefect turns to him and clutches his arm. "My brain isn't leaking out of my nose, is it?" For a brief moment the Beater fears they've gotten this terribly wrong. A little desperately he looks to Blaise.

"No, it's alright," the Keeper reassures him. "If he can remember exotic potions and their effects, he should be fine."

"You mean the other stuff would actually do that? Melt his brain? What on earth for?"

"I doubt that was what they'd originally intended..." Draco manages a bit disdainfully, but it sounds rough, and he's still anxiously checking his nose. But it's the first sign he's himself, and Gregory gives him a faint smile.

"You owe Vince for that one, by the way." And that's about the debt.

Draco can't help thinking he owes Vince a great deal of things, the seven story fall and associated limb breakage comes quickly to mind, three Serpents and possibly a couple of Crucios - although he's a little unsure how he allots the blame for those - but he nevertheless acknowledges the debt. Vince generally sells potions for Galleons or homework. Draco can easily provide either.

Draco's colour is finally returning - normalising - and they're trying to help him out of bed as their door opens.

Harper's watch on the stairs is soon rewarded. Hunter happens to enter the common room with the other fourth year boys just then. It's typical for the Hutchinson boys that they automatically scan the room for each other whenever one of them does so. Hunter isn't clingy, but they're close, and Harper always keeps an eye out for his little brother. Admittedly it takes Hunter quite a while to stop gawping at Vince, and Harper enjoys just taking in his reaction. So worth it. That's a barely suppressed giggle right there.

Once Hunter looks around, he quickly meets Harper's gaze. At a sign from the sixth year - Harper makes a square bracket shape with his thumb and forefinger which he then twitches slightly as though pressing an invisible button, while gesturing towards Vince with his hand, and, really, it was all too too obvious anyway - Hunter turns around and races back to Harper's room. He has to shoo Crankshaft from the lid of the trunk, but not without lovingly scratching his ears first - somehow the half-Kneazle always seems to know exactly where to place himself to maximise the affection he's permanently seeking - and then digs through his brother's trunk until he finds the camera. Naturally, the blood wards don't present a problem for a close family member.

He races straight back with only a, "Later, Crank," hastily thrown over his shoulder. Hunter, usually not exactly the soul of subtlety, is even able to hand the camera off to the Prefect without attracting any attention. Of course, it's extremely helpful that Vince himself provides such a distraction. Merlin. Taking a picture of this was practically an imperative. It was certainly sure to be lucrative.

More and more students filter in the closer it comes to breakfast time, the reactions largely the same. "Merlin!" "Salazar's Satchel!" "Nimue's knees!" "Brilliant!" "Merlin's left nut!" "Bloody hell!" "Language." Pansy is standing right next to the stairs after all. Much milling about and whispering to one another ensues.

They'll cleverly save their laughter until they're out of Vince's sight. A fact that becomes quite evident when they're able to leave and gales of laughter are audible from the corridor leading to the dungeon exit.

For anyone watching their responses, not that anyone but Harper is, not with Vince lying there, his wings fwump fwump fwumping like that, it's noticeable that there's a healthy amount of pride visible on many of the boys' faces. The third years pink rather markedly, they may need to work on that, and Harper decides that explains Vince's ears. He had rather wondered. It's always a bit hard with Charms to tell if it's something new, like with the wings, or something gone wrong. Merlin, if you can remember what you did, that's how some of the best Jinxes come about.

Pansy's Tempus chimes, and she takes the stairs to the boys' dorms. From his portrait, Salazar - the very picture, literally, of domineering dignity - grandiloquently announces to those assembled, "Curfew has ended. You may now leave for breakfast."

It's an interesting feat no one ever thinks to question, more's the pity. The portrait can't cast a Tempus and there are no clocks visible in the dungeons. One might be tempted to think the Founder's portrait has an uncanny sense of time. While his sense of time isn't bad - better than Swoopstikes' anyway, not that that says much - that assumption would be far from the mark. By longstanding arrangement, Slinky appears several times a day before Salazar's portrait frame on the grand staircase landing and acting as something like a living, breathing elven Tempus, he yells the time to Salazar whenever there's a significant event. As no one else can hear the house elf... It serves to add to the portrait's mystique. Or would if anyone stopped to think about it.

As it's been that way since their very first day in the dorms, and they as a group - oddly - spend no time in other Houses, not a one of them does.

They assume it's portrait magic.

The very youngest students are quick to scarper. They'd have loved to hang about and watch, but they correctly interpret Crabbe's murderous glare. Unsurprisingly, there are more than a few hopeful looks in Harper's direction, as he snaps the pictures he knows will bring him even more than last year's shot of Vince as an oversized terrycloth Flobberworm. He expects he'll take a pounding for it, Vince's growl as the flash goes practically guarantees it, still it should be worth it. He'll Geminio the pictures and hand the seventh year the originals, he can even swear to it, and the Galleons should come rolling in from there. It should definitely help fill the family's coffers. And he's sure, Pomfrey can sort anything Vince can dish out. Plus he's kind of banking on Vince not taking him out of commission until they've played the Moggies, by which time the trog was liable to have forgotten the issue...

Or in a pinch, maybe a Confunding would help.

From the third years on up, a large number of the boys choose to stay to watch, more than a little curious how their Hexes will fair against any attempt to sort this. When the boys stay, so too do a number of their female counterparts, and a reasonably sized crowd is beginning to gather.

Now that Pansy had come and Draco had his potion, Gregory left her and Blaise to it and returned to the common room to relieve Harper. There are enough onlookers stood about on their stairs that the Beater is forced to push his way through to get back to the couch. It's hardly a problem for someone of his size and physique, that's not the issue, but the rubbernecking annoys him, and he has a few choice words for some of the younger boys. He's a bit disconcerted when they don't seem particularly impressed by his bluster, parting only marginally to allow him past.

They wouldn't have even done that much, given a choice, but the Beater really is strong.

Oddly, Harper also doesn't seem to be in a rush to return to the others yet. The 'why' becomes a little obvious when moments later Daphne enters the room and positively 'Oooooo!'s, not that anyone besides Hunter spares Harper any attention and notices, not with Vince flapping wings and ears on the couch and moaning in counterpoint.

But Harper was so right.

She loves the wings.

He's quick with his camera and captures it, happy to have gotten a shot of that, too. It might be almost as good as the ones just of Vince.

Only not as profitable.

"Oh, they're gorgeous!" She cries, practically fluttering with excitement. That's Daphne for you. "I want some!" She's completely sincere.

"For fuck's sake, Greengrass!" Comes Vince's predictable - if slurred - objection. Harper has to fight not to laugh. Hunter and a few of the younger students aren't nearly as successful. Merlin, even Tracey stops to stare, her trip to the boys' dorms momentarily forgotten.

"Language," Harper's quick to rejoin. He is a Prefect after all.

"You're Crup meat, Hutchinson," comes the hissed reply. To be fair, with the desiccated skin of Vince's back, the wings are presumably far from fun for him. Additionally, they probably suit Daphne's aesthetic a good deal more than his. Unquestionably he'd never choose to walk around with the things on his back.

Daphne, on the other hand, is a whole different story.

Her next question practically confirms it. "Anyone know which Charm was used?" She looks hopefully around the room. Most of the boys present, anyone who isn't a seventh year anyway, know who would know, but they're not about to land Sheldon in it, and everyone just shakes their heads. And really, the wings were a nice touch. That doesn't deserve to be punished.

Vince will never learn who cast that particular Charm.

A/N:

More credit where it's due:

Because it's an obscure enough reference not to be clear, the idea for Professor Swoopstikes comes from the Wizarding World of Harry Potter, where a portrait by that name depicts a former Hogwarts Potions Master and entomologist, and is hung near a Quidditch painting in the Tracery Hall. (That's what I had, and then I took it from there.)

'Harper' was canonically in Ginny's year (she thinks he's an idiot, but then she does that a lot). During the 1996–1997 school year he was Slytherin's reserve Seeker and played against Gryffindor when Draco bunked off. He needled Harry about Ron being a blood-traitor and nearly beat him to the Snitch, but was ultimately thrown by Harry taunting him that Draco paid Harper to play. (Which never made any sense to me, so I'm trying to give it context. Huzzah.)

Other than that, Boadicea Waterhouse and Wilhelmina Wilkes are OCs, as are all the other males in Slytherin who aren't seventh years, occasionally using surnames from canon. (Wilkes, Avery, Shafiq, Burke)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I love the security measures and the forethought on the well-rounded education. Ugh, what Hermione could have accomplished as a Slytherin.

I think Salazar would have been keenly aware of the tenuous security practitioners of magic enjoyed historically. Their safety was always very much at the whim of society, the only reliable guard against that would be honing their own skills. (Well, that and constant vigilance... Moody would feel validated.)

Now I'm imagining Moody and Salazar, security consultants.

I picture them as highly competent but so contentious they chase of all their custom and constantly struggle to make the rent.

“beyond wandpoint” 091b by gingerbred

“11 12d Wednesday - ...and Whine 1 Assessment” Pt 2

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