“beyond wandpoint” 097a by gingerbred
Mar. 23rd, 2019 10:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
beyondwandpoint“11 12j Wednesday - Morning Classes”
Severus Snape, Hermione Granger, Staff: Filius Flitwick, Albus Dumbledore, Septima Vector, Slytherins: Draco Malfoy, Theo Nott, Blaise Zabini, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Tracey Davis, Daphne Greengrass, Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode, Alberta Runcorn, Hunter Hutchinson, Gryffindors: Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, Ravenclaws: Mandy Brocklehurst, Kevin Entwhistle, Steven Cornfoot, Darius Inglebee, Stewart Ackerly Hufflepuffs: Hannah Abbott, Megan Jones, Ernie Macmillan, Others: Sunny, Slinky, Mafalda Hopkirk, Rita Skeeter, Reginald Cattermole
Mentioned briefly: Staff: Poppy Pomfrey, Minerva McGonagall, Slytherins: Flora Carrow, Hestia Carrow, Sheldon Shafiq, Torsten Touchstone, Tomasina Touchstone, Bartholomew 'Bart' Burke, Gryffindors: Fay Dunbar, Georgina Smith, Dennis Creevey, Ravenclaws: Morag MacDougal, Eddie Carmichael, Hufflepuffs: Salome Smith, Susan Bones, Others: Corban Yaxley, Pius Thicknesse
Originally Published: 2018-11-04 on AO3
Chapter: 097 part 1
The original version of this chapter exceeded livejournal’s maximum post length. It’s been split in two parts.
Characters:
Severus (HoS, Potions), Hermione 7G (Prefect, Supreme Swot)
Staff:
Professor Filius Flitwick (HoR, Charms), Albus Dumbledore (dying Headmaster, but ffs, not nearly fast enough...), Professor Septima Vector (Arithmancy, but that hardly counts, or was that the students?)
Slytherins:
Draco 7S (Prefect, Team Captain, Seeker, Swot), Theo Nott 7S (Swottiest, Nervous Wreck), Blaise Zabini 7S (Keeper (but only in the Quidditch sense...)), Vincent 'Vince' Crabbe 7S (Beater, Winged Couch Potato), Gregory Goyle 7S (Beater)
Tracey Davis 7S (Swottier), Daphne Greengrass 7S (Sparkly! Fwoopers!), Pansy Parkinson 7S (Prefect), Millicent 'Millie' Bulstrode (Reserve Beater, yes, that.), Alberta Runcorn 7S (Grumpy.)
Hunter Hutchinson 4S (Imp, Take-Out Delivery Boy)
Gryffindors:
Harry 7G (Team Captain, Seeker, the Boy-Who-Lived-to-Annoy-Severus), Ron Weasley 7G (Prefect, Keeper (but also only in the Quidditch sense), the Boy-Who-Exists-to-Annoy-Hermione), Neville Longbottom 7G (errant Herbal Knight), Seamus Finnigan 7G (fiery Reserve Beater), Dean Thomas 7G (Chaser), Lavender 'Lav' Brown 7G (blonde!), Parvati Patil 7G
Ravenclaws:
Mandy Brocklehurst 7R (musical), Kevin Entwhistle 7R and Steven Cornfoot 7R, Darius Inglebee 4R (Reserve Chaser, impatient Patient), Stewart Ackerly 4R (Beater)
Hufflepuffs:
Hannah Abbott 7H (Prefect), Megan Jones 7H (Muggle-born), Ernie Macmillan 7H (Head Boy)
Others:
Sunny (the Snapes' house elf), Slinky (the Slytherin House's chief house elf), Mafalda Hopkirk (wispy Witch of the Webs), Rita Skeeter (You-Know-Who), Reginald 'Reg' Cattermole (Maintenance Mouse)
Mentioned briefly: Staff: Poppy Pomfrey (Mediwitch extraordinaire), Professor Minerva McGonagall (HoG, Transfiguration), Slytherins: Flora Carrow 6S (friendly twin), Hestia Carrow 6S (Chaser, sporty twin), Sheldon Shafiq 6S (Reserve Beater, and charm on legs), Torsten Touchstone 6S (sleepyhead, heir to the Touchstone fortune), Tomasina Touchstone 5S (Prefect, Potions savvy heiress), Bartholomew 'Bart' Burke 5S (sallow), Gryffindors: Fay Dunbar 7G (Reserve Chaser), Georgina Smith 7G ('Fay's ginger friend'), Dennis Creevey 4G (almost as bad as Colin), Ravenclaws: Morag MacDougal 7R, Eddie Carmichael R'97 (Potions Dealer), Hufflepuffs: Salome Smith 7H (née Perks, bonded to Zacharias Smith 6H), Susan Bones 7H, Others: Corban Yaxley (DE), Pius Thicknesse (Imperiused DMLE Head)
Previously:
Tuesday evening, the Bloody Baron alerted Hermione to seven fourth year boys duelling. She put an end to the fighting and discovered four Ravenclaws had attacked lone Hufflepuff Newton Kurz for botching their potions in Severus' class Monday. Dennis Creevey from Gryffindor and Hunter Hutchinson from Slytherin had come to his rescue, but were outnumbered. (080)
Hermione, Harry and Ron enter into a pattern during the first week. The arguments ramp up between the friends. Harry does try occasionally to find out what's going on with her, but Hermione can't tell him, and he only really half wants to know. With the Oath in place, if he doesn't try to work for it - and he doesn't - he'll never learn what happened. But then it doesn't help in the least that it isn't his wheelhouse.
His weaknesses aside, Harry's still very hurt, and that gets in the way of things in a substantial manner. He can't believe she'd marry Snape, of all people, and never say a word to him first. Or after, if it comes to that. The only reason he can think of for that is if she's so angry with him that there isn't any way back for them anyhow, and then he'd really just as soon never learn of it.
He has enough crosses to bear.
Ron's ever constant presence makes talking to her rationally a good deal more difficult, too. And of course Harry's attempts to mediate between his friends don't magically improve. He unfortunately persists in trying to couch Ron's objections to and general displeasure with the bonding - with which he's privately inclined to agree - in ever so slightly less insulting terms, which only serves to render them more so in Hermione's eyes. It's two against one, after all, and the incessant badgering of a recent assault victim... It hardly helps matters any.
If Harry had to guess, he'd say Ginny was right. 'Mione seems to be on something. Sure, she usually fights back when Ron attacks, that seems to be deeply ingrained enough that it's something like an automatic response, but her heart just isn't in it. Not by her standards. She hasn't hexed him once, or even run off crying, which... Yeah. Harry's glad she doesn't, of course, but that probably really does mean she's taking one of the Draughts, when he stops to think about it. Merlin, her hair hardly even crackles...
For his part, Harry's desperate for his worst fears to be wrong, eager to take any sign that she's alright as proof he's mistaken in them (it can't all be down to a Draught, can it?), and he credits those signs with more truth than they properly merit. Compounding their problems, they don't see one another outside of classes. Hermione is avoiding meals in the Great Hall, and between detentions and Quidditch practice, and of course the boys' natural disinclination to spend more time than necessary in the library, there's really not much occasion to.
That might provide a little insight into why they have so few friends outside of their House were anyone giving it any thought.
None are; they're too preoccupied with their own problems.
But unlike in the past when the boys were content to simply ignore Hermione when there were problems, Ron seems to instinctively be trying to deflect any possibility for blame by laying it all mercilessly at her feet. Which only confirms Harry's fears that he'd be absolutely impossible if he ever learnt even a hint about what Harry worries has happened.
It's a horrific mess.
Severus still has his hands full with Crabbe. He and Goyle are the only two seventh years to have the first period free, and the House is essentially empty.
On consideration, Severus decides that he can't afford to send the boy to the Infirmary with the stitches still showing around his mouth; the lacerations, of course, are another matter. But the Shrunken Head Preparation Charm will undoubtably bring up too many questions both as to who cast it and why.
He gives it a bit of thought and then decides the best option is to pull the threads by hand. It's all a matter of how one defines 'best', of course. It's not convenient, as he has to bow and weave and bend to avoid the flapping wings, but it's certainly more painful than Vanishing them would have been. He pretends to believe that wouldn't have worked. It might even be true. Crabbe is too far gone to care just now. Later will probably be a different story.
Severus Transfigures a foot long set of pincers that he uses to pull a few threads before growing impatient. Experimentally, he casts a Partial Body-Bind and the wings still. The horrible groan Crabbe gives as he does it leaves him convinced that the solution is... satisfactory.
Apparently, they still very much wish to flap, and with the raw skin on the boy's back, that proves excruciatingly painful. More than once as the boy kneels there whimpering, it crosses Severus' mind that this was the toad who had purchased that potion, brought it to Minerva's classroom, and insisted on its administration to Miss Granger.
For a laugh, he'd told the other boys.
He's not laughing now.
He's still on his hands and knees, those incredible wings frozen above him, sniffling as Severus impassively tweezers those threads from his lips one by one, when Gregory returns from their room. As everyone else had done this morning, he once again finds himself stopping at the landing to take in the incredible sight. Vince can be grateful there's no one else to witness this.
Of course that's completely neglecting to consider the portraits and their fondness for telling stories. They'll undoubtedly be telling this one centuries from now.
They provide something of a running commentary as Severus works. Their abrupt silence once Goyle reappears alerts him to the boy's presence.
"Goyle," Severus drawls lazily, never once looking in his direction, "I need you to go to my classroom and let the students in. My first period Potions class should be starting soon, and they'll be queueing up before a warded door otherwise." Gregory looks half panicked at that. "You will not be required to instruct the class." He informs him. The very idea is absurd. The fact Goyle seems to relax upon hearing the information is even more so, as though he'd actually considered it a possibility...
"The passphrase is 'Gary Gilmore's Eyes'," which Gregory thinks sounds horrible, but naturally doesn't ask. He simply repeats it dumbly. "Quite. Go and let them into the room. You will not have access to my stores. As such they will be unable to brew," as if having them brew under Goyle's supervision were even vaguely an idea filled with any promise beyond Infirmary stays, "and you'll instruct them to begin writing their assignment on Alihotsy, its uses and proper handling."
He cringes inwardly at having to send Goyle, but at least it isn't a N.E.W.T.s class, and the boy was never anywhere nearly as bad as Longbottom or Kurz.
His nerves at the task still evident, Gregory begins to head for the exit. "You should take your books with you, Goyle. I doubt you'll have occasion to return here before you need to go to History of Magic. I would hope even Professor Binns should object if you appear to his class so thoroughly unprepared."
Goyle comes to an immediate halt and whips around, about to race back to his room for his books, "Shall I fetch Vince's as well?"
"Generous of you to offer," Severus almost sneers and then looks purposefully at the boy kneeling on all fours before him. "But I rather doubt he'll have need of them this morning. Poppy may yet prove me wrong, but in that case, I imagine we'd permit him to return to the dungeons to fetch his things, don't you agree?"
Honestly, at this point Gregory's inclined to agree with anything the man says. Nodding he runs for his room once more to retrieve his books, and it's not long before he's back and zipping out the door.
It takes Severus a little while yet to work the tangled strings from Crabbe's skin. He has to give to Burke, the hex was brilliantly selected. The job isn't any worse than preparing a great many potions ingredients, and the satisfaction is more... visceral.
He has no intention of addressing Crabbe's various wounds, the extensive rash now forming down his front from the Solvent or the state of his nose. That's Poppy's territory. The wings can stay put, as far as he's concerned; he nearly chuckles at the pun. And then he weighs whether the pain the bind causes is actually worse than the apparent humiliation of flapping fairy wings... It's a toss up.
The boy's back, likewise, can remain as it is for the moment. He'll tell Poppy it was probably something that went wrong - much like the ears which he's frankly uncertain how to sort on the fly - and she'll treat it symptomatically, or ask Filius for assistance; the Charmsmaster generally welcomes a challenge. The hair and nails can also remain; no one would expect Severus to address such trivial problems when he has classes to instruct.
Which means he's taken this charade as far as he must.
He fishes in his pocket for some Dittany, Transfigures the tweezers into a giant cotton swab which he sterilises, and then he dips it into the Dittany and daubs it about Crabbe's mouth. Soon there's no outward trace left from Burke's hex. He returns the pot of Dittany to his robe pocket and Untransfigures the swab back into the magazine he'd used for the purpose and Banishes it back to its table.
"Crabbe, if you wish, I'll release the wings from their bind again. My impression is it's causing you some discomfort," he offers before moving the boy. Nearly too exhausted to sob, Vince merely nods his head.
Daphne approaches Professor Flitwick before class starts to request a pass to the Restricted Section for research. Much as Hestia had expected, he gives it to her without thinking twice. He doesn't even ask 'why'. It doesn't console her as to the responses from her Housemates that she'd be one of the people researching bonds, but she's grown used to that and it's nice to know staff, at least, see her as competent and trustworthy. She neglects to consider that her trustworthiness is part of why her Housemates view her with some scepticism.
Before she can take her seat, that knob Weasley apparently laces into Hermione, and there's a slight to do.
Well, maybe not so slight...
Ron's general displeasure with Hermione and her bonding has been exacerbated to the point of being unbearable by the teasing he's been subjected to this morning. He's now in a far worse mood thanks to everyone, everywhere being on his case for absolutely everything. Or so it seems. He kicks off with 'Mione and before Daphne can even take her seat, but some of the other Slytherins are quick to tell him to get stuffed.
"Shut your yob, Weasel," Draco commands imperiously. Another so deeply ingrained reaction that he could probably have managed it even if he hadn't had the Pain Relief.
"I swear I just saw yesterday's chicken when he opened his mouth..." Tracey shudders.
"Disgusting," Millie agrees, although no one is sure if she means the Weasel in general, his eating habits, or Tracey's remark.
"No one wants to hear anything you've got to say, Weasel," Blaise is nearly as imperious as Draco, but he'd had a far easier night. He could probably learn a thing or two from the Malfoys. Then again...
"Why don't you find some Flobberworms to entertain?" Alberta taunts.
"They might be willing to suffer his company," Pansy acknowledges with a laugh.
Theo just slumps in his seat, staring apathetically ahead.
The Gryffindors, naturally, don't sit still for any of that.
"Shut it yourself, Malfoy," Harry replies originally, that's also a hardwired response.
"You're the only disgusting thing here, Bulstrode," Lav snarls.
"As though anyone would listen to you, Zabini," Dean taunts back.
"And just how is he supposed to tell the Flobberworms apart from your family?" Seamus gets in his dig at Runcorn.
"It's probably preferable to yours," Parvati snits at Parkinson, but it gets a bit confused in the jumble of jeers, and no one seems sure what she meant. On the other hand, no one seems inclined to give it much thought, either.
Neville sits there desperately wishing he were in the greenhouse, while Ron and Hermione bicker. When he can listen to it no more, he turns to Ron and feels forced to say, "You're out of line, mate."
It draws Harry's attention.
Flitwick calls the group to order. His squeak will have made all the difference, as usual.
What finally does the trick is a non-verbal Langlock from Harry that muzzles Ron, at least for the moment. He's both so angry and so startled, that he doesn't think to cast the Countercharm, and Professor Flitwick tries once more, again audible in the sudden silence.
"Now, now class. I think that's quite enough. Take your places please."
It's almost as much luck as anything else that they actually do so, but then people tend to forget Filius is a champion of the duelling circuit. If that hadn't done the trick, he might - possibly - have considered using a Charm to sort it.
But then again, he so hates to resort to force...
There aren't a great deal of options for moving Crabbe to the Infirmary. With those wings, he wouldn't fit through the Floo, and the House Floos aren't connected anyway. Albus has taken that measure for their security at least. Crabbe doesn't quite seem up to the task of walking, and with the size of the wings, Severus imagines it could prove difficult. He's fairly certain they're longer than the boy in both directions. (He pictures Crabbe trying to tiptoe to the Infirmary, and it immediately improves his mood.) Shafiq had come up with a truly elegant idea, the oversized wings being simultaneously more insidious than one might assume at first glance, and considering the subject, guaranteed to be found thoroughly... humiliating.
He also can't imagine the boy would be able fly... He manages not to suggest it.
"Very well, up with you then," he gives the slightest bit of warning before a Mobilicorpus lifts the seventh year from the floor. His legs naturally hang, dragging. A few twists of Severus' wand, and Crabbe's orientation shifts so that the boy's rump, and subsequently the wings, too, are pointed higher in the air. His arms hang now as well, but his legs no longer touch the ground. "I mustn't leave my class in Goyle's incapable hands longer than absolutely necessary."
Vince grunts in reply. Severus decides to take it for agreement.
He's able to get Crabbe to the exit with fairly little difficulty. Several of the Snitches attached to the ceiling in the corridor respond to being brushed by his wings by flapping their own, and they leave the passageway behind them, abuzz with the sound of beating wings.
A fitting way to mark the occasion, somehow.
They'll still be fluttering when Tracey and Flora return to brew at lunch, much to the girls' puzzlement.
The exit, opening again in response to Severus' approach, very fortunately for Crabbe manifests both taller and wider than it does for the students. Although it takes Severus three tries and a fair amount of scrapping (to which he's indifferent, but Crabbe is not) of those surprisingly robust - but acutely sensitive - wings, he eventually manages to squeeze Crabbe through into the hallway.
They haven't far to go to the Potions classroom and even with the slightly awkward progress the Mobilicorpus dictates, they arrive only a few minutes later.
And now Severus is faced with a few decisions to maximise his amusement.
Crabbe won't fit through the door. There's no question about it, at least not shy of a human Transfiguration that most definitely shouldn't be risked in light of everything else he has going on at the moment. Or having Albus restructure the castle. So clearly not. Obviously Crabbe must stay - flapping - in the hallway. Severus also has a number of rather pressing errands he'd like to perform, and the... issues with Crabbe had robbed him of the time he'd meant to use to address them this morning.
As ridiculous as it may seem, he will need to take advantage of Goyle's presence to mind his class while he does so.
"Crabbe, you'll need to remain here while I take care of a few things. Goyle will be with you shortly and bring you to the Infirmary. I'm ending the Mobilicorpus now. Do you believe you'll be able to stand on your own?" An utter lack of concern - that even Vince in his present state fails to overhear - rings through the question belying the words, but at least things seem to be going in the right direction. Vince tries to be cooperative.
"I think so," he replies immediately, trying to avoid the appearance of seeking sympathy he is quite sure he won't receive. He soon discovers standing is more difficult than he imagined, the wings threatening to overset him, and their constant scraping along the stone floor proves quite uncomfortable. That still might not be such a problem in and of itself, but with the Desiccation Charm rendering his back little more than cracked leather, the added resistance proves incredibly painful. Severus had thought it might.
Not a minute later, Crabbe is balancing precariously on his toes, trying to put an end to that. It's really not far off how Severus had imagined it, and in fact, he hadn't thought to include the rather comical facial expression in his mental image that he now gladly revises.
Vince is also weak on his legs, and doesn't for a second believe he can maintain this pose. What a shame. Of course, if he can't stand, he can't sit, and leaning back against the wall is equally out of the question. He briefly considers lying face down in the middle of the floor. It seems the best solution by far...
Severus takes it in and makes a suggestion. "This may take a few minutes. Perhaps if you were to extend your arms above your head, lean forward and prop them against the wall, you'd gain enough clearance for your... wings."
Vince, more than a little desperate, is willing to try it.
"You will do so here," Severus indicates the spot directly across from his classroom door, "so that Goyle will be in a position to monitor you should there be any... further... difficulties."
Vince is happy to oblige. Yes, it would be good not to be left on his own as he'd been this morning, wouldn't it, and quickly assumes the position much to Severus' delight. He stands there savouring the view for a moment, Crabbe truly is a sight for the gods, presumably Loki, and fleetingly Severus wonders if this memory is something that might some day provide Miss Granger with a measure of peace, or at least vindication.
He imagines it's both too dark and far too soon.
Pity.
It was a sight worth sharing.
The blood stained tatters of clothing provide a very grim counterpoint to the glinting, iridescent purple fairy wings merrily fluttering away as the boy balances in a position the constabulary might favour for managing their worst suspects... With Crabbe's hands spread against the wall like that, the black nails really do stand out better. And of course this way the Bundimun colour of his hair is also displayed to full advantage. Severus has no doubt the wretch's arms will cramp and tire soon. He's rather counting on it.
"But I don't imagine there will be any more difficulties, do you?" It sounds an awful lot like a warning. Vince thinks that's fairly obvious.
What also should have been obvious is that that location won't just provide Goyle with an excellent view of Crabbe as he stands there flapping.
Severus magics the door open and strides purposefully (and rather dramatically) into his classroom, all heads turning as he does so. It doesn't take long, of course, for their focus to shift from him to the spectacle in the hallway, and so many necks crane as the students struggle to take in the sight, he'd almost worry that a few might fall from their seats were he given to such things. (He is not.)
Goyle jumps from his chair, unsure if he's even permitted to sit in the Professor's spot, and his blood freezes initially when the Potions Master addresses him.
"Goyle..."
"Sir?" His voice breaks under the tension, and at least one of the Ravenclaws chuckles.
"I need you to keep an eye on the class a little longer while I make a few arrangements. Your escapades this morning have been... inconveniencing." For a minute Gregory stands there blinking wondering what he'd done - well, this morning anyway; and then he tries not to wonder about what led to the bondings again - before he accepts that the Head means their House as a whole. Fair enough. "You may alert me if there's any change for the worse in Crabbe's condition.
"Class, do make an effort to continue your work. And I expect you to remain in your seats," that last is addressed at a Hufflepuff who will doubtlessly land on the floor in a matter of moments if he tries to keep up his balancing act. "I do not wish to be disturbed."
Severus sweeps past them into his office without sparing anyone a further glance and closes the door behind him. Almost simultaneously the class leaps from their seats to crowd around the open door. No one is ever going to believe this. Gregory does his very best to try to get them to retake their places and be quiet until one enterprising Ravenclaw thinks to suggest that if he would just be quiet himself, they could all agree to keep quiet as well, and as a whole they're less likely to disturb the Head in the process. It sounds suspiciously like blackmail, and rather Snakelike for a Turkey. Goyle's almost impressed.
"And we can look faster that way," comes the final assurance.
Gregory isn't at all sure that's how it works, but he also wasn't having much luck getting them to sit back down. Finally he stops trying and goes back to sitting in the Professor's chair. Which is a very weird sensation indeed. Him, sat there like that.
No one's ever going to believe that either.
Meanwhile in London...
Promptly as the doors open Wednesday morning, Rita Skeeter - Quick-Quotes-Quill and scores of scrolls of parchment in her bag - storms into the Ministry of Magic's Office for the Registration of Births, Deaths, Marriages, Bonds, and Other Inconveniences. Mafalda Hopkirk, in her third position at the Ministry this year alone and standing by her lonesome behind the counter, shudders reflexively at the sight.
"I want to see the recent records of Bonds," Rita tells her officiously, and all attempts to explain there is no such thing fall on deaf ears.
But there's little point to arguing with the pushy blonde, Mafalda can see the witch's Self-Writing Quill furiously at work as their standoff continues. A glance at the scroll shows statements like 'Ministry conspiracy to hide the information from the public' and 'wispy old witch refusing access to the beautiful and intrepid reporter' which is particularly insulting as Mafalda happens to know for a fact that Rita was a couple of years ahead of her at school.
Deciding it's easier to simply prove she's correct, Mafalda leads Rita through the dusty stacks into a back office where she needs to retrieve the key. Bonds are so rare and generally so well known, that no one has needed to look them up in... it may have been decades. The key, improbably, seems even older than the building, but it's generally best not to question that.
Key in hand, they march still further back into the cavernous halls of records, progressing to a door that seems older yet. That, too, probably shouldn't be questioned. Mafalda finds that makes her work a good deal simpler. It's a seemingly medieval affair, on ancient goblin wrought iron hinges, studded with nails and coated in dust and spiderwebs. It refuses to yield even after Mafalda applies the key, insults are briefly exchanged as to competency, it most certainly is the proper key, an Alohamora fails to work, unsurprisingly, and finally the witches acknowledge: it's just plain stuck.
A bit belatedly, Mafalda casts a Cleaning Charm on the door, but by that point her hair truly is wispy with cobwebs.
Realising the longer it takes to open it, the longer she's stuck with Rita, Mafalda throws her all into it, but there's nothing for it.
Magical Maintenance is called and the witches spend an uncomfortable half an hour together waiting until Reg Cattermole comes by with muttered apologies about how Thicknesse's new bright boy Yaxley was complaining about the temperature of his office in the DMLE again...
Except Reg isn't able to open the door either.
It's like it has a mind of its own.
Which isn't entirely impossible.
Rita's Quill is scribing up a storm, and Mafalda can just picture the headlines. It proves motivating. She resumes her efforts to get the door open at any price, and Rita, a witch insensitive to boundaries on a good day, doesn't wait long before she begins trying to assist their efforts.
What finally does the trick is a tin of Sleekeazy's Rita withdraws after a quick root about her bag. Application to the hinges and lock do in fact tame the recalcitrant door, and garner Mafalda a few snide remarks about how her hair would be less wispy were she to make use of the stuff every now and again.
"Our doors don't generally require it," she tells Rita, with an expression so earnest that for a moment the reporter thinks she means it. As though that would affect her hair. Rita decides the witch is fool enough that she could be serious.
Curious, Reg hangs about and watches as the witches bring forth the most recent tome, originating some time three centuries ago and still largely empty.
Releasing a large puff of dust, Mafalda sets the book gingerly upon a nearby lectern and the three crowd around to see the proof that Rita's wrong once again.
Except she isn't.
There black on magnolia, are three new entries recording the bondings of three couples just this week alone.
Mafalda's never seen anything like it.
Reg can't wait to tell his wife. She'll never believe it.
Rita's Quill knocks it up a gear, transcribing the details about Little-Miss-Perfect-Prefect's bonding to the Scoundrel Potions Prof. They're thin, practically emaciated, but that's never been much of a disadvantage for Rita. On the contrary, it leaves her with fewer facts to have to work around.
Later today Mafalda will receive a tin of Sleekeazy's by owl, thanking her for assistance. She won't be quite sure how Rita meant that either.
Severus takes a seat at his office desk. It's... acceptable, but if he's honest, he never liked it as much as the desk and chair in his... erstwhile study. Of course, he may be focusing on that chair more because he's lost it.
The first thing he does is to check the class schedules for his seventh years, and he opens a drawer, shuffles a few papers and removes a scroll that lists them. He needs to find times when they all have courses. All but Crabbe and Goyle have class this period, and he has them both... occupied. All of them have classes the periods after, either double Arithmancy, History of Magic or Xylomancy. (And the fact he doesn't scoff for once when he reads 'Xylomancy' betrays just how much he is concentrating on the problem and his attempt to solve it.)
The next thing he does is to call for Sunny, who appears silently before him almost instantly. He'd noticed early in his tenure as a Professor that the elves are capable of fading silently in and out of sight. They certainly do so to perform a substantial portion of their chores. But they had a habit of making rather loud noises when Apparating in the presence of humans. A little digging had revealed that they consider it good form - Merlin knows witches and wizards tend to be noisy enough about it - and after some negotiations Severus had been able to convince Sunny to stop deliberately faking the noise.
He much prefers the result.
"Yes, oh Master of Potions, Sir? How can Sunny help?"
"I was... surprised this morning to learn Crabbe had been thoroughly hexed."
Sunny has heard the portraits whispering. By now he has a fair idea as to what had happened and why. "Members of the House is wishing to help the Master of Potions," he suggests in answer with a reassuring nod.
"I'm afraid you don't take my meaning, Sunny. Did you know of this in advance and not inform me?" Ear-wringing ensues with the démenti. "Then do you perhaps have any idea why Slinky failed to report it to you?"
Over the years, Severus has gained rather a lot of experience with the house elves. For one thing, he knows he's more likely to get a straight answer from Sunny than Slinky. For another, he knows no elf can be relied upon to ever give him a straight answer. He is also well aware that their internal rivalries and schemings far surpass even those of the students. Or Death Eaters, for that matter. He imagines the only thing worse than teaching a horde of young witches and wizards would be playing nursemaid to a squabble of house elves. Heaven forfend.
Sunny's ear-wringing transitions smoothly to an attempt to slam his fingers in the desk drawer, but Severus is easily able to stop him. "Kindly leave my desk alone and take a seat. We're pressed for time." He looks stern - far sterner than he feels - and that seems to satisfy whatever need for punishment drives the little elf, who - evidently thoroughly chastised - crawls into the visitor's chair on the other side of the desk with drooping ears, a picture of abject misery.
Elves have rather a knack for the theatrical.
"Slinky is wanting to disturb the Head last night, he is, and Sunny is wanting to stop him."
"So the two of you exchanged words, or did you hex him?"
Sunny looks just the slightest bit sheepish, and Severus assumes some magic was used. Well, that would explain it. They bicker not infrequently, and it's not as though the little creatures were likely to have come to blows. "I expect the two of you to get past that. I rely upon you to keep me informed... expeditiously."
Ultimately the portraits will keep him apprised of developments in a pinch, but it's more convenient if the elves work together as they should, and very politic to say so.
Predictably, Sunny brightens visibly in his seat, but then a wrinkle of consternation appears on his brow.
"Never fear, Sunny. I will be telling Slinky very much the same thing, I assure you."
Sunny's answering grin confirms both that that had been his worry, and that he can't possibly have been as upset as he had appeared just moments ago, or at least not as humans might experience the emotions. There's a very real possibility that it manifests differently in elves.
"Now I have an errand for you, and I need you to carry it out as quickly as you can. If we're to do this properly, we only have until lunch to finish, am I clear?" Frantic nodding follows which Severus ignores. Elves are far too enthusiastic for his tastes, of course, but he's been known to channel them once in a while when You-Know-Who proves particularly difficult to appease. If anything, that makes the elves' servile agreeability even more difficult for Severus to stomach.
Ah, but then that was what the Touchstone's Triple T was for...
"I need you to gather every single potion - all of them - from our seventh year boys and bring them to me to evaluate, and then you will have to return them to their original locations before anyone could conceivably return to the dorms for the lunch break. Do you think that will be possible?"
None of them have siblings, which simplifies things. They are far less likely to have someone outside of the family store contraband for them, but that's likely to change, and quickly, once they realise a search is on. This operation needs to happen smoothly and rapidly, before anyone realises what they're doing.
Sunny doesn't answer immediately, but takes a moment to fret instead. Hmm. Bad sign that.
It takes him a few minutes that Severus reluctantly sits through, some things just won't be rushed, but he eventually spits it out. "Sunny fetches potions, yes, but after Sunny is taking Pain Relieving Potions this weekend, the boys, they is being sneakier, yes?"
He's correct; it's a strong possibility. One might also assume that the students hadn't hidden their Pain Relief, making it easier to find. (Although after last weekend, one may safely assume they'll begin to bunker it as well.) Now that they've been forewarned that things are disappearing, it will be more difficult to impound potions. And they're a crafty lot. They have good hiding places. Sunny makes it clear, he can do this, the boys never consider placing wards against elves - it's unlikely they even know any - but it will be difficult to hide the undertaking from Slinky, particularly if Severus wants him to act quickly.
Severus thinks about it briefly and takes a decision. "Fine, wait here." He crosses to his hearth, throws in some Floo powder and calls for Albus. It takes him a bit to answer, but when he does, Severus turns to Sunny and tells him, "Give me five minutes and then send Slinky to see me. I have an assignment for him as well. And then start immediately on that errand just as soon as he leaves."
Sunny is gone in an instant and Severus returns his attention to Albus, who has taken advantage of the opportunity to observe him more closely.
"Why, Severus," he smarms, "you're glowing. I'd say married life agrees with you."
Severus just crouches there, silently blinking as he counts to ten. There are days he'd happily Avada the man, but he can't help wondering if that's half the point. This, of course, was just another example of the imperfections of Notice-Me-Nots and a disadvantage of having used Albus' besides.
"Glower's Glowing Elixir, more like, but thank you for noticing, Albus. You're too kind, as always.
"I needed to speak with you about taking more... lasting measures to ensure the boys are incapable of further... action any time soon." Albus cocks a brow, reasonably certain he understands what the wizard is asking.
"Were you thinking along permanent lines?"
"No, or at least, not at the present. Naturally, I'm willing to amend that should it prove necessary." It's not clear if he means it, and at this point he probably doesn't. What is true, however, is if he ever had to reevaluate that decision, he almost certainly would be willing to consider permanent options. "You said I had your blessings to... deal with them as I see fit. You haven't changed your mind?"
"No, Severus. I trust your judgment." It helps, no doubt, that the only ones likely to suffer for it are Slytherins. Were it a matter of punishing Gryffindors, Severus is quietly sure the answer would have been different.
It always has been.
"I meant to enlist Slinky for the undertaking."
That gets him another raised brow in challenge, but then Albus only nods. "As I said, I trust your judgment."
The disadvantage there is that Slinky's allegiances are a great deal more complex than Sunny's.
Slinky had known almost all of the students' parents. In the whole House, there were a total of two fathers, one grandmother and one grandfather who'd gone to Durmstrang, and a single mother who had attended Beauxbatons. And not that Slytherins generally tended to, but after the last war, not a one had married a Muggle. All other parents and most of theirs were known to the elf. It makes it more precarious to trust him with things that are to remain hidden, as one can never entirely know where his loyalties might lie. But Severus treats him well, and providing him with missions that require, that demonstrate trust... Over the years that's proven a good way to keep their elves loyal. Demonstrating trust to promote behaviour worthy of it.
But then cleverly Severus' idea isn't dependent on that trust not being broken. It will simply appear that way.
"It would be... helpful if I can claim you insisted upon it in order for them to remain at school."
"I think I can agree to that. Especially if I needn't do so officially."
"No, of course not. Officially, we haven't spoken at all." He sounds just slightly bitter.
"Why, Severus, I still don't even know what you're planning to do..."
Severus smirks and begins to answer, "I mean to have Slinky..." but Albus withdraws with a chuckle, ending the connection.
Typical.
Moments later, the elf in question appears before him. First, Severus takes him to task for this morning's communication failure, but after emphasising how terribly important Slinky's role is in ensuring that works as it should, he assumes the elf is suitably inveigled to address the more pressing matters.
It's just another application of stick and treacle coated veg, the latter so sticky, it's a minor wonder it didn't stick in his throat. His years of experience with You-Know-Who and his followers have made him nearly expert.
"You are aware that the seventh year boys have committed a grievous act, behaving in a reprehensible fashion, and the price that I have already paid for their actions has been very... dear." Slinky nods as earnestly as an elf can. "The Headmaster has had a few more demands for allowing them to remain at Hogwarts. After the sacrifices I've already made, you'll understand my unwillingness to have any comparatively... minute problems threaten that agreement." Slinky isn't entirely certain, but nods again slowly. It's force of habit, and he's likely to come around shortly anyway.
"They will not be permitted to have any other illicit potions. I've dispatched Sunny to deal with that, and I expect you to help him as best you can moving forward. Further, under no circumstances can they be permitted to act in any way that might again threaten another student, another witch, as they previously have."
Slinky hems and haws a little and then speaks, "But if they is only bothering the Muggle-born..." Years of working together have taught the elves to avoid the use of the term 'Mudblood'.
Severus fixes him with a penetrating stare, but doesn't even raise his voice. "It went rather past 'bothering'." The elf gulps as though castigated, and he continues, "It doesn't matter whom they threaten, the Headmaster won't stand for it, and I won't have my sacrifice be for nothing. It's non-negotiable, Slinky. The Headmaster was clear. So what I need is someone I can trust to see to it that this is done." Slinky puffs with pride and Severus manages not to role his eyes.
"Your task will be to assure that they're fed Insalacious Saltpeter with every meal." Slinky's eyes tear open wide, so the elf clearly has an understanding of the substance. Because they don't deal in potions, it's easy to forget elves still have a wealth of knowledge about the magical ingredients. Often it rivals a Potion Master's. But as they're far more reliant on the unadulterated ingredients than witches and wizards are, that only makes sense.
Severus has effectively ordered the elf to throw the breaks on the boys' sex drives. Full stop.
Honestly, Severus regrets it slightly. There's the briefest twinge as he assigns the elf the task because it may very well affect the boys' performance on the pitch...
And then he instantly recollects Miss Granger's plight Friday night and hates himself for that base impulse to worry about their Quidditch performance of all things.
It was an unforgivable lapse.
(But he just can't stand to see Minerva so supremely smug when the Moggies win. Naturally that will be even worse if he's had to have a hand in making it so.)
He considers it once more. Crabbe, obviously, must be dosed for sure. There can be no doubt about it. Zabini should be as well. Pity, he was a good Keeper. He won't have Nott dosed, the boy hadn't deserved it, and after a bit of thought, he decides to exclude Goyle as well. But as much as he'd like to, he simply can't justify holding off on Zabini... Not even until after the match. He's not altogether sure what to do about Draco... Deciding to err on the side of caution, he instructs Slinky to ensure that Crabbe, Zabini and Malfoy are given the powder. Regularly.
"You will add it to their food, and I expect you to see to it that no one learns of this arrangement. No one, I am clear? If this fails to work, the Headmaster has been very definite about this, they will be immediately expelled, and I'll have subjected myself to the bond for... nothing. That will not happen. Are we agreed?" Slinky nods again, his eyes wide. "I'm relying on you."
"Yes, Sir, Head, Sir."
Frankly, he could have one of the other elves see to it; Sunny would be more than happy to have the responsibility, Severus is sure. But it generally helps to draw the chief elf into his schemes. This isn't asking for too much, and yet it seems to be incredibly important. The elf is capable of understanding why it's purportedly necessary and the supposed stakes for his actions. It should prove... adequate.
And if it doesn't, Severus has precious few qualms about resorting to more... thorough measures.
"I will leave the Insalacious Saltpeter on my desk for you by lunch; you have my permission to enter and take that jar - and only that jar - at that time. You will also inform me in a timely manner when you require more. And if there are further problems in the House, I expect you and Sunny will cooperate to communicate them. Dismissed."
Slinky Apparates out of the room with the 'pop' so typical of the elves, and Severus pinches the bridge of his nose, gathering himself before returning to the classroom.
By the time he does, the students are again in their places and apparently hard at work on the homework he'd assigned.
He doesn't for an instant believe that was the case all along. Especially not when he sees Goyle's relief as he scans the room to ascertain they're all seated.
Gregory rises almost immediately as the Professor walks into the classroom. He's still not altogether sure the man will be pleased to find him in his seat, and he can only imagine the blistering comments that will see him very quickly out of it. He can see himself out, ta.
"If you'd be so good, Goyle, and take Tinkerbell out there to the Infirmary now..." Severus gestures almost apathetically with one hand towards the door.
"Yes, Sir," Gregory gulps, but only the Muggle-raised catch the reference. Severus finds it advantageous to bat them a smackerel every now and again that they can exchange for titbits of wizarding culture they don't know. It helps to even the score. He'd been largely Muggle-raised, after all, and can appreciate the handicap they labour under.
Goyle scutters from the room before him and then stands there staring at Crabbe trying to figure out how he's going to manage this one...
Severus follows deliberately in his typically imposing fashion, and once again all heads in the classroom turn to track his movements.
"Might I suggest a Mobilicorpus?"
Gregory is quick to admit he doesn't know how to perform it, and Vince is every bit as quick to whimper, "Not again!" As he'll later explain to Gregory, the experience with Millie and Alberta yesterday had taught him not to offer himself up for learning purposes with that Charm. Never again.
Merlin, he'd barely survived.
Not, if he's looking back on it, that having survived seems to have worked out so brilliantly for him just now, but he remains hopeful that's likely to improve.
Probably.
"That's all very well, Crabbe, but you can't stay here. And if standing was proving too much for you, I highly doubt you'll make it to the Infirmary under your own steam." The overtly sardonic statement wafts there in the air between them and neither of the boys can object. "I'll perform the Mobilicorpus and Goyle will tow you. Acceptable?" He doesn't wait for a reply and soon Crabbe is floating arse over tip in the corridor. So oddly, now that there's an audience, his bum floats even higher, and rather thoroughly fatigued, his head, arms and legs now all droop towards the floor. Of course, any strength the boy might have had to keep them from flopping had been expended in his attempt to remain upright while Severus went about making his arrangements.
"Do you think you can manage?" Somehow Gregory feels the tone doesn't invite any answer but the affirmative and a staunch resolution to at least try.
"I'll do my best," he assures the Head, who gives him a look that says it probably won't be enough.
"Off with you then. That Mobilicorpus won't last forever." The look of panic on both their faces was well worth the appearance of moderate fallibility on his part. "And Goyle, have Madam Pomfrey take a look at your rash while you're there." Severus does not smirk as they leave, watching Goyle trying to figure out how to best pull-push-drag Crabbe to the Infirmary. He's a bit sorry he can't stay to watch.
He returns to the classroom, all heads again swivelling as one to their work, and he doesn't even need to admonish them to get busy.
The first batch of the seventh year boys' Potions appears on his desk in the classroom not long after, and Severus begins to sort through them. Initially, none prove difficult or particularly unexpected, there's Boil Cure and Pepper-Up. He's interested to note some of later seems to be Miss Davis' variant and some not. It would seem the witch isn't willing to brew for just anyone. Sleekeazy's Hair Potion and Scalp Treatment and Vitamin Potion, Touchstone's Triple T (Torsten and Tomasina must be so pleased), Lowdour deodorant and Cough Potions, Tolipan Blemish Blitzer and Ten-Second Pimple Vanisher. A few liquid pranks, anything else would have been surprising in light of the sources, Dogbreath and Laugh-inducing Potions...
He quickly identifies them and sets them aside. They soon vanish and he assumes Sunny is returning them to wherever he'd found them.
More disturbingly, he identifies Forgetfulness Potion and Confusing Concoction and has to ask 'why' his students need such things. Presumably they're useful when one finds oneself unable to properly cast a Confundus or a targeted Obliviate. He puts those aside for consideration, but he'll probably be confiscating them. It will alert the boys to the measures he's taking, but then he won't have much choice, ultimately, if they have more of whatever they'd given Miss Granger. He'll need to pocket those anyway. Regardless, it shouldn't come as much of a surprise.
That presupposes they've given it any thought, however. Hmm.
If he can finish before lunch, he'll simply keep those. If not... The ones he feels he can't safely or reasonably return to the boys will need to be replaced so they don't notice what he's doing. He doesn't need to make a decision on that quite yet though. Or so he thinks.
Shortly before the end of class a selection of Potions to rival those in his own medicine chest begins to appear on his desk. The selection is a great deal more varied, more... esoteric than he'd expected, and that's just at first glance.
This is probably going to take some time.
A/N:
Portrait of Sunny in his work robes provided by the most magnificent MyWitch. ❤️
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