“beyond wandpoint” 094 by gingerbred
Mar. 23rd, 2019 06:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
beyondwandpoint“11 12g Wednesday - ...and Whine 3 Inaction”
Severus and Hermione, Seventh Years: Draco Malfoy, Theo Nott, Blaise Zabini, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle 7S, Tracey Davis, Daphne Greengrass, Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode, Alberta Runcorn, Sixth Years: Harper Hutchinson, Ella Wilkins, Aaron Avery, Sheldon Shafiq, Others: Hunter Hutchinson, Wilfred Wilkes, Bartholomew Burke, Mentioned: Colin Creevey, Madam Zabini, Portrait Salazar Slytherin, Anthony Avery
Originally Published: 2018-10-24 on AO3
Chapter: 094
Characters:
Severus and HermioneSeventh Years
Draco 7S (Prefect, Team Captain, Seeker, Swot), Theo Nott 7S (Swottiest), Blaise Zabini 7S (Keeper), Vincent 'Vince' Crabbe 7S (Beater, Couch Potato), Gregory Goyle 7S (Beater)
Tracey Davis 7S (Swottier), Daphne Greengrass 7S (Sparkly!), Pansy Parkinson 7S (Prefect), Millicent 'Millie' Bulstrode (Reserve Beater), Alberta Runcorn 7S (Grumpy.)
Sixth Years
Harper Hutchinson 6S (Prefect, Chaser), Ella Wilkins 6S (Prefect), Aaron Avery 6S (Reserve Chaser), Sheldon Shafiq 6S (Reserve Beater, and charm on legs)
Others
Hunter Hutchinson 4S (Imp), Wilfred Wilkes 4S, Bartholomew 'Bart' Burke 5S (sallow)
Mentioned: Colin Creevey (words fail), Madam Zabini (Blaise's mother), Portrait Salazar Slytherin (Founder), Anthony Avery (Severus' school roommate, Death Eater)
Ella turns right towards the common room, Harper goes left and deeper into the dorms to his own room one further down.
Ella had a point of course, about the pictures. (But then she generally does. Bright witch, Ella.) Although he'll miss the warmth of the water - and they have such excellent pressure in the showers here, too... - he decides he'll opt for Charms instead to save time getting ready this morning. He's good at those having taken care of his little brother for so many years. (Just like he's good at... obtaining his father's wand and using it to perform them instead of his own. He's far from stupid.) The Charms will win him the time he needs to develop the pictures.
First he puts the Dagger-o-type films in the Developing Solution, leaves it to set, and then he gets ready. Developing them takes longer, of course, than Creevey's Filch C3 Matchmagic Photo-royd films do, but Harper's never had that kind of money to spare for a camera. (Colin, from a good working class home, would be stunned to know that's how Harper see him.)
And not that Harper chooses to see any similarities between himself and the Muggle-born Moggie... None at all.
Still, the Dagger-o-type pictures were a step up from the Heliographs with their yellowish tinge and rather... pungent oil of lavender based Developing Solutions. He's glad for that. He used to smell far too much like his great aunt Harriet after using that stuff.
Harper's Charms go even faster than Pansy's, his hair and image both demanding less primping, and it's not long before he's following in Ella's footsteps and he's back in the common room to watch the show. The seventh years' room hadn't provided nearly the entertainment value that Vince does...
With Pansy, Tracey and Daphne there to keep watch, Blaise's presence is... no longer required. At least that's the feeling he's getting. (He's not exactly wrong.) Even if it's a far from complimentary attitude, he takes advantage of that fact to hop in the shower.
Draco is still too shaky to want to brave the showers. The fact he doesn't even apply Charms to clean and dress himself says everything about both his energy and priorities this morning. He sits there on the edge of Theo's bed now, trying not to attract the notice of the three witches. It's probably for the best.
The girls avail themselves of Draco's bed, as long as he isn't going to be using it, settling in to wait for Ella to return with the Head and whispering to themselves about who must have cast precisely what on Vince, and just how on earth does one make those wings? (That last might have predominantly been down to Daphne.)
Draco isn't able to make much sense of what little he overhears, not having seen the boy yet.
Zabini emerges from the showers with a towel slung low about his hips, and he's gratified with the reactions the sight of his bare chest and stomach earns him. Of course, he'd expected no less. He still has that, if nothing else. Disappointing his viewing public, he dresses behind a Notice-Me-Not. An unusual one, which serves to very effectively thwart the gazes of the witches present, as Pansy soon discovers. Such a pity. You can't blame a witch for trying. Well, not unless a person's right to privacy is a concern...
Noticing her roommate's response, Tracey comes to the conclusion she isn't the only one who isn't going to enjoy their embargo on the seventh year boys. She understands the logic behind the decision, she agrees with it - in principle - but she finds herself thinking this isn't one of their better ideas. And then she chides herself as to her priorities. It had been perfectly sensible decision.
She simply doesn't like it.
She looks at Draco half cowering on Theo's bed and sighs in frustration. Presumably that will only get worse.
In the process of getting ready, Blaise stumbles upon the letter from his mother that had been hidden beneath her Poste Serpentes. The 'post-Poste Serpentes' as Marcus Flint, one of the boys a handful of years ahead of him, had come to call them. Merlin knows, Marcus had received quite a number of Serpents over the years. (Usually for not fouling more subtly at Quidditch...) The name caught on, but then laziness won out, and today it's just the 'post-Serpent'.
It had retaken its place around Blaise's wrist after biting him, and as he lay sleeping had relinquished its hold once more to curl up on his bedside table, much like a garden snake sunning on a warm rock in summer. Curious, he picks up the twist of parchment and opens it with a quick sideways glance at the girls. They're no longer paying him any attention. But then he'd left them with nothing to see.
He scans the letter, if it can even be called that, it's more of a note really. He'd have been able to anticipate most of it, had he thought to try. His mother reiterates bits of the Serpent's message, Professor Snape had 'deserved better' from him and evidently she's 'extremely disappointed', that's no surprise. She usually gets over it quickly enough. She's hardly in a position to cast Stinging Hexes. Mostly she objects to his getting caught, naturally, which makes perfect sense from her standpoint. Fundamentally, her continued freedom and sanity - Merlin knows, Dementors' Kisses wreak havoc on that - are predicated on never getting caught.
The only intriguing thing in the note is the single new addition, 'Consider your allowance halved.' He stares at that for a moment and then bites back a chuckle, uncertain how his Notice-Me-Not will fare with sound and suspecting any amusement on his part is almost sure to rub the witches present the wrong way.
He appreciates the sentiment, halving his allowance... It certainly sounds threatening enough. And it's a bit of a pity, to be sure. But then he has his trust fund, now doesn't he? Shaking his head at his mother's woolly-headedness, which seems so unlike the normally shrewd Zabini matriarch, he continues about preparing himself to face what promises to be a rough day.
Still, just to be on the safe side, perhaps he'll ask Ella or Harper. Their parentals are solicitors, and they usually know their way around legal things like that. It's probably best to know what he's facing.
Severus has moved on to Nott's Charms' assignment, reading through it as he sits at his desk. From the look of it, it's another perfect piece of work that will soon meet its end at tip of his wand. He'll savour that even more than Goyle's mediocre Creatures effort. Had there not been the issue of the war and the related politics, Theo might have made an excellent choice for Prefect. But then Severus considers how well the boy would have been likely to stand up to others' inevitable objections to his supervision, his authority... He's forced to acknowledge, on balance, that appointment probably wouldn't have been all that much more satisfactory than Lupin's was in his day.
With a faint snort he mentally adds, 'Or Weasley's.'
Miss Granger is still at the sink doing the dishes. As a trained spy (who apparently spews traitorous tea over his papers at the least provocation; bygones), he naturally keeps half an eye on her as she does so.
It occurs to him that only this past Sunday he'd assured her she'd never need to clean for him...
He's really not at all certain how they got here.
Of course, a Granger-shaped house elf is probably the least odd aspect of the thing.
Perhaps this is a manifestation of some desire to spare Sunny the bother...
There's a familiar ripple to their wards followed almost predictably by a knock at the door. The young woman could have gone past without stopping, but the vector of movement made that less likely.
Miss Granger, less familiar with the wards and what they convey, starts just a little in surprise and turns to look at him questioningly. "Sir?" She prompts.
"It's Miss Wilkins," he answers simply, and her confusion is instant. He sort of likes it - oh, yes, he's an accomplished wizard and can work magic, imagine that - but takes pity once more and explains, "The Prefects are some of the individuals whom I track individually through the wards." He's about to lay Theo's homework down and address the interruption when Miss Granger speaks.
"Shall I get it then?" She asks, wiping her hands on a towel.
Severus blinks, taken aback for the briefest of moments and then nods. "By all means." He gestures invitingly towards the door. He can't help feeling trapped in a theatre of the absurd piece. There's no such thing as wizarding kitchen sink drama, after all... On the other hand, his pride won't allow him not to come to terms with their new circumstances as well as she seems to be doing. And if she wishes to include 'butler' in her self-imposed house elf duties, so be it.
This will never not be strange, he is sure.
Hermione makes an effort to listen to the wards again, just for practice, as she goes to the door. She still can't tell how he knows it's the Slytherin sixth year Prefect (although she doesn't doubt he's correct), but she expects to see a single person standing before her when she opens the door, and does. She's pleased she seems to have grasped that much at least. "Good morning, Ella," She greets the younger girl cheerily. "What can I do for you?"
Ella hadn't anticipated this.
She's well aware, naturally, that Hermione lives there, but to have her answer their Head's door like that... Well, it was... unexpected.
She's quick, however, to recognise having Hermione as a buffer between herself and the Head is far from disadvantageous. As a House, they've undoubtedly taxed him to the limit this week, and she's the bearer of presumably bothersome tidings, as it were. Not that she expects him to take his anger out on her exactly, he wouldn't, but his sarcasm can be... blistering. Assuming one is smart enough to register it anyway. With some of the Gryffindors, she has to wonder sometimes.
Present company excepted, of course.
"Oh, good morning, Hermione. Sorry to bother you so early, but I'm afraid we have a situation that requires the Head's attention. Has he... That is, is he sufficiently recovered to help us?"
Her voice carries, it's another of the Perception Charms on the door, like the one that permits Hermione to see further in both directions than physically possible, and Severus has no trouble hearing the sixth year. He sighs to himself and calls over, "Tell her I'll be with them in a moment." Hermione turns to look at him enquiringly, and he answers her unasked question, "She can neither hear nor see me outside of the Privacy Barrier."
She nods in reply and relays his message. Ella thanks them, saying she'll pass it along to the others. But as she turns to go, Hermione stops her, "I wanted to thank you again, by the way, for last night." She fingers the back of her head at the thought, or perhaps in demonstration. "I'm pretty sure you saved me from a colossal headache."
"It was my pleasure. I'd say 'anytime', but here's hoping you won't need it..." she smiles at the older girl and Hermione smiles winningly back.
"Excellent point," she concedes.
Severus meanwhile Incendios Theo's work, and then puts the remaining scroll, Crabbe's History of Magic homework, in his desk drawer which he locks. He manages not to feel particularly guilty at that, but can't help a furtive glance in Miss Granger's direction as he does it. It's nothing personal, merely best practices. Pocketing the note he'd written to remind himself of the various points to mention to Hagrid about Goyle's and Crabbe's Care for Magical Creatures work, he stands. Pushing in his chair, he Summons his light cloak - much of the rest of the castle can be a good deal chillier than their quarters - and strides towards the door.
"Oh, he's coming now," Hermione, looking back at the Professor, informs Ella, who was again turning to leave. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
Severus isn't sure which of the two of them she's asking, to be honest, and clearly doesn't know enough at this stage to answer, regardless. When Miss Wilkins doesn't respond, however, studiously examining some recessed stones in the wall nearly opposite, he decides she, at least, took it as directed at him. As Miss Wilkins can't hear him, he's sorely tempted to answer in his typically acerbic fashion, making his lack of information abundantly clear.
And then he reconsiders.
They've just spent a peaceful half an hour or more together, and he can't see the advantage to aggravating the witch. Particularly not as he'd learnt yesterday that he pays the price for that via the bond. What had she said? They should treat one another with 'mutual respect and civility'. How hard can that be?
Given that Miss Wilkins can't hear his reply, he decides to give an uncharacteristically polite one. "Not at the moment," he answers evenly and then proceeds to make the witch's day. "Should that change, I'll send word. But thank you for the offer." It wasn't much. It certainly wasn't excessive. But Miss Granger rewards him with the widest imaginable grin. And that was something he should have considered, because she is standing within the space well visible to those outside their chambers, and the expression on Miss Wilkins' face would indicate she didn't miss that grin at all.
But then how could she? Severus is quite certain it could be seen clear from the other side of the castle, if it came down to that.
Hmm.
He'll be more careful next time.
"See you later," Miss Granger chirps as they leave. It's friendly, and again not entirely clear which of the two of them it's meant for, although Severus supposes she's a good deal more likely to see him than Miss Wilkins, particularly as the young woman is only a sixth year. He nods his acknowledgment at Miss Granger as she closes the door. Miss Wilkins, for her part, is now doing her level best not to grin.
As they proceed silently down the corridor deeper into the dungeons, he decides grinning young women leave him slightly wrong footed.
Ella makes every effort to keep her face neutral. She's not bad at it, not usually, but the situation is proving too challenging, and she's having trouble suppressing her smirk. Nimue knows, the sight of Vince this morning had already been a bit much. She takes refuge in staring straight ahead.
It's hardly inconspicuous.
It's certainly not natural.
Severus has far too much experience with embarrassing situations. That's a mixed blessing. As Miss Wilkins is a good Snake, the best approach will be to ignore it and move past it. Preferably to something else.
And there's one thing in particular he'd like to know.
"What happened last night?" He asks directly. He's clearly spent too much time around Gryffindors lately, he thinks with an internal shudder - as though Slytherins never simply asked a question - but it should do the trick. He's her Head of House, when all is said and done.
Miss Wilkins begins to explain Crabbe had slept on a common room couch (Severus can well imagine why he preferred that to his Kneazle fur laden bed), been thoroughly hexed and was now stuck there. Indeed. Somehow even without prior information from the portraits or elves - and he'll be speaking to Slinky and Sunny about that curious oversight - this doesn't come as much of a surprise to Severus. And it would seem they're not at all sure what's wrong with Theo... Severus interrupts her explanation, amending his question. "I meant with Madam Snape."
Ella looks a little perplexed, as well she might. "Ah, I gather she, um, took some lumps in an altercation, and I was able to help her a bit with that."
Severus is appalled, not that Ella could tell. While he'd been indulging, Miss Granger had managed to somehow not only be injured, but apparently at someone else's hand. Or wand. He can thank his lucky stars he wasn't required to act, and wonders if the Sober Up would have made enough of a difference.
(Of course it would, or he'd never have risked getting pissed in the first place. Nevertheless, he wasn't able to prevent his thoughts from worrying about that briefly, because what he really needs, so desperately, are still more things to worry about. Cheers.)
And then he experiences a rush of relief, because maybe this means the Protection Vow isn't as problematic as he'd feared.
Merlin... He's never that lucky...
But with the way Albus has been performing of late, who knows, it may be as effective as her Loyalty Vow.
A little more subtly now, although it was difficult not to be more subtle than his direct question, he begins to quiz Miss Wilkins as to the Charm she performed on Miss Granger. That quickly provides him with all the information she could offer as to the injury involved. It would seem she doesn't know how it occurred. Beyond 'cursed inkpot', which is presumably the least crucial detail of the events in question in light of their prevalence in the castle.
Inkpots, that is. One might hope the lot of them aren't cursed.
He'll probably need to devise some tests for the Protection Vow, too, if he can think of a safe way to do so. He adds it to the list of things to tackle on the weekend.
Joy of joys.
Miss Wilkins steps back as they approach the length of wall that will yield to give them access to the passageway to the Slytherin common room, normally only when the proper password is used. As the Head of House, Severus isn't even required to do that, for which he's grateful. The Prefects alternate setting them, and he's relieved not to need to know the name of the Falmouth Falcon's Keeper's favourite Crup or the latest Weird Sisters' single, say.
Pure-bloods have no idea what good music is.
Intellectually, he's always wondered if someone Polyjuiced could enter in his stead, or if it comes down to holding his wand, or perhaps both, but then he's never had anyone he'd have trusted enough to try the experiment. Not that it mattered, but he wonders, sometimes, how Salazar had crafted many of the Charms in his day.
The wall folds back quickly in an impressive fashion as he approaches, the entrance far broader than usual to welcome the Head. The action is almost completely silent, there's only the very softest, House appropriate, hiss as the stones slot into position to form elaborate architraves around the opening that will disappear as soon as he passes. He has a sneaking suspicion that little flourish was down to Salazar's ego. All that's missing are Searing Sousaphones to announce his arrival.
Presumably that hadn't been included as he'd be less likely to take misbehaving students unawares that way...
He's doing the Founder a minor injustice with those thoughts, but as he's only known the wizard via highly imperfect portraits, that's hardly unreasonable.
They descend further down into the dungeons by means of this short corridor. Two lone portraits guard the entry - not all that actively - and tapestries line the walls, depicting important events and people from their House history. A diverse collection of artefacts celebrating the Snakes and their achievements are dotted in between. There's a taxidermied Golden Snidget from a World Cup centuries past, mounted Stirring Rods and Astrolabes, Charmed Axes, Pikes and Swords of Goblin Silver from the Wars, scores of Medals for Magical Merit no longer displayed in the Trophy Room, trophies from Duelling, Transfigurations and Potions Championships, and a rather ridiculous collection of Golden Snitches from every game Slytherin has ever won... In the case of the Snitches, they're displayed across most of the ceiling, too.
Some of the girls have voiced objections.
Severus steps out of the corridor into the common room, Miss Wilkins trailing behind. The students part before him, allowing him to pass and as they register his presence, conversation stills.
"You don't suppose he'd be able to fly with those things, do you?" The younger Hutchinson asks the Wilkes boy seated on the table next to him, not having noticed the waxing silence.
"Don't be daft. He's far too fa..." comes the immediate and slightly impudent reply. A set of light slaps to the backs of their heads from the elder Hutchinson keeping watch behind them and a jerk of his head in Severus' direction puts an end to that thought before it can be finished. Just as well, as Vince was likely to mangle him for it had he done so.
The students step back to give Severus better access, in the process effectively funnelling him towards one of the couches. There Crabbe lies sprawled... apparently affixed, and while that's hardly surprising after what Miss Wilkins had relayed, the state of the little scrote most certainly is.
Severus does. Not. Smirk.
And promptly decides that reestablishes his bonafides as a master spy after all.
Well, this was certainly something else. He stands there, just clear of the flapping wings, taking it in. No one says a thing as he does so. It's a strange tableau, Miss Bulstode and Goyle kneeling there before him, the Beater holding his wand in one hand and clutching... A sharpened rock? Something in the other, now arrested mid-movement above Crabbe.
It's probably too much to hope for that he'd meant to club the boy...
Presumably because it wasn't exactly the most intuitive solution, it takes Severus a moment to understand Goyle had been attempting to saw Crabbe free of the couch.
With a rock.
That's clearly the brain trust of the next generation of Death Eaters before him.
Shoddy Transfiguration, no doubt. A brief, silent Legilimens confirms both that and the supplemental use of a Diffindo.
Well then.
"What manner of uncultured fool takes a Cutting Charm to the furnishings?" Severus may be projecting a little; he's certainly well aware of the irony as he addresses the boy. "That piece is an antique, Goyle. It was here long before you were born, before your grandfather was born, before his grandfather, and in all probability even before his grandfather ever set miserable foot in these rooms." He pauses for effect. No one dares make a sound.
"You had best hope the couch remains... unscathed."
Behind him he can hear a squeak of panic and the fourth years scrambling to slide off the Permanently Imperviused table they were perched upon, which he finds amusing. Staff aren't idiots, after all. It's charmed to excess and no more vulnerable than the seating.
Unless someone were to take a Cutting Charm to the legs, of course. But what kind of idiot would do that?
Goyle doesn't seem able to reply. He kneels there trembling, and Severus takes that for confirmation that he got the tone right. It's a satisfactory response all around. Easily half the room appear to be holding their breaths.
They should be collapsing soon.
A swish of Severus' wand performs a low level scan on Crabbe, it's really only marginally better than the Discerno, and won't he be careful never to let Miss Granger learn about that. But it does do somewhat more to detect the use of magic.
Which was rather abundant here.
Well, they've definitely been... thorough.
He has to wonder that they hadn't aimed for Crabbe's bollocks, all considered.
Perhaps they left that to him.
His hand lifts to conceal his smirk, the pose ostensibly thoughtful. He has no doubt this is thanks to yesterday's Serpents. The coincidence would otherwise be too great.
"Well, I imagine this will take some time," he notes dryly before turning his back on the boys and facing the rest crowded about them. Most of the House, by the look of it.
"Ladies and gentlemen, kindly reassure me that you don't feel this," he gestures to the couch behind him, thoroughly ignoring the boy attached to it,"is an appropriate use of my valuable time and not inconsiderable skills."
He slowly looks at the group gathered there, scanning their faces one by one. Here and there are flashes of guilt, and those slight traces of guilt lead him unerringly to the parties behind the various hexes. A bit more Legilimency - it's too easy really, as their thoughts revolve around their contributions to Crabbe's state - and he knows precisely who's done what.
Hutchinson, the elder, had come up with a nice Sticking Charm. Severus knows the counter - ultimately, it's closely related to what they use on the portraits - although he imagines few here would. Of course, Severus has been at this a number of years, and if he didn't know the counter, he'd simply pluck that from Hutchinson's mind as well. Well, he might have to work for it, just a little, but when merely mentioning the hexes causes them to think of it...
Shafiq had certainly been... original. Severus hasn't seen the fairy wings before, which is saying something. It's hard to believe the boy had sat down and made an effort to learn something over the summer hols, but he quite evidently had. Kudos. Severus isn't exactly shocked, however, to find Shafiq hadn't bothered learning the counter while he was about it. It hardly matters. It's enough to know which Charm was used, and Severus doesn't intend to lift it anyway. And if it does prove necessary - perhaps after a month or so, he thinks facetiously, although he very highly doubts it will it will even last the day - he could always look the thing up in the Restricted Section at leisure, should he ever wish to. Although he's having difficulty imagining himself wishing to... For the moment, at any rate, the wings are a very nice change of pace.
Avery had gone creatively dark, just on the border of what would require serious action on staff's part with that Desiccation Charm of his. He's a cousin of Anthony's, and that line of the family had always been a good deal more... sinister than Anthony ever was. It appears to be a novel reapplication of a Charm normally used to keep the goods in which his family trades properly acclimatised. Used on a person as he'd done, it should be deserving of an ASBO if anyone's hexes were.
Well, and Burke's, of course. There was almost definitely no legitimate reason for the charm to stitch a mouth shut; it wasn't simply a sewing Charm misused. Not at all. No, Severus recognises what remains of the stitches. He's seen it before. It's for shrinking heads.
Interesting family, the Burkes.
But what he wasn't quite expecting as he looks from face to face and mind to mind is to discover on so many of their parts the conviction they're avenging him. Or at the least, they believe the hexes were performed by others to do so.
He's...
He's... touched.
Some took advantage of the situation to hex Crabbe, naturally - he couldn't blame them - but still...
The little blighters thought they had his back.
He won't be punishing a one of them.
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Date: 2022-02-02 09:43 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2022-02-05 05:19 pm (UTC)