beyondwandpoint

“11 12l Wednesday - Lunch at the Castle 2” Part 1

Severus Snape, Hermione Granger, Staff: Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, Filius Flitwick, Pomona Sprout, Poppy Pomfrey, Sybill Trelawney, Professor Sarah Sapworthy, Hagrid, Professor Call-Me-Terry Taylor, Irma Pince, Nurse Wanda Wainscott, Rolanda Hooch, Septima Vector, Charity Burbage, Slytherins: Draco Malfoy, Theo Nott, Gregory Goyle, Daphne Greengrass, Harper Hutchinson, Ella Wilkins

Mentioned briefly: Slytherins: Vincent Crabbe, Tracey Davis, Gryffindors: Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Dhanesh Devi, Hafsa Devi, Dennis Creevey, Ravenclaws: Darius Inglebee, Latisha Randle, Others: Winky, Moaning Myrtle, Amelia Bones, Lucius Malfoy, Wilkins family, Mrs. Wilkins, Mrs. Hutchinson, Hutchinson family, Mrs. Hutchinson

Originally Published: 2018-12-14 on AO3
Chapter: 099 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:
Albus Dumbledore (dying Headmaster, but ffs, not nearly fast enough...), Professor Minerva McGonagall (HoG, Transfiguration), Professor Filius Flitwick (HoR, Charms), Professor Pomona Sprout (HoH, Herbology), Poppy Pomfrey (Mediwitch extraordinaire), Professor Sybill Trelawney (Divination; Scarves, Tealeaves, Patchouli, oh my!), Professor Sarah Sapworthy (Xylomancy, Twigs!), Hagrid (Care of Magical Creatures, Keeper of not-so-wee Beasties), Professor Terrence 'Call-Me-Terry' Taylor (DADA), Irma Pince (Librarian), Nurse Wanda Wainscott (chatty), Madam Rolanda Hooch (older but better, likely to take flight), Professor Septima Vector (Arithmancy), Professor Charity Burbage (still Instructor of Muggle Studies)

Slytherins:
Draco 7S (Prefect, Team Captain, Seeker, Swot), Theo Nott 7S (Swottiest, Nervous Wreck), Gregory Goyle 7S (Beater), Daphne Greengrass 7S (Sparkly! Fwoopers!), Harper Hutchinson 6S (Prefect, Chaser, flash Robe Model), Ella Wilkins 6S (Prefect)

Mentioned briefly:
Slytherins: Vincent 'Vince' Crabbe (winged, couchless potato), Tracey Davis 7S (Swottier) Gryffindors: Harry 7G, Ron 7G, Ginny 6G, Dhanesh Devi 6G (bonded to Kiera 6G, sadly tailless), Hafsa Devi 5G (Dhanesh's sister), Dennis Creevey 4G Ravenclaws: Darius Inglebee 4R (good and hexed by Dennis), Latisha Randle 6R (Muggle-born) Others: Winky (free elf in Albus' service, one time house elf to the Crouch family), Moaning Myrtle (pervy ghost), Amelia Bones (Susan's 7H aunt), Lucius Malfoy, Wilkins family, Elizabeth Wilkins (Ella's mum), Hutchinson family, Heliotrope Hutchinson (Harper's and Hunter's mum)

Previously:

Albus learns Hermione's Loyalty Vow isn't up to snuff. 079 He also informed the Heads this morning that Muggle-born Megan Jones 7H had withdrawn from the school. 096 Word is making its way through the faculty and student body.

Theo, somewhat inappropriately still wrestling with feelings of guilt about what the seventh year Slytherin boys may have done (ongoing since Draco gave him his mother's letter to read), learns Hufflepuff Megan Jones has withdrawn from school. Drawing his own (erroneous) conclusions, he dashes for the loo and loses what little of the meal he'd consumed. Draco goes to check on him. 098

The sixth year Slytherin Chasers decide to train the reserve players during lunch, in case the seventh years are... inadvertently knocked out of service for the upcoming game against Gryffindor. 083 Which seems increasingly likely. Ella and Daphne decide to bring them something to eat. 098

Daphne Transfigures Harper's slippers while buying the girls time to decide how to handle the seventh year boys. She manages to make them match the robe Harper negotiated off of Blaise. 091

Staff reacted poorly to news of Severus bonding Miss Granger 040 until the young woman gave them a bollocking. 041 Hagrid went so far as to break Severus' ribs. This is his first meal with the rest of faculty since, and things are a bit... awkward.

Dennis Creevey 4G jinxed Darius Inglebee 4R for attacking his friend Newton Kurz 4H. 080 It went pear shaped, and Filius and Poppy have been trying, without much luck, to set it to rights since.

Severus encourages Hagrid to punish the boys harshly if they 'forget' their homework. 098

Irma Pince bans Hermione from the Restricted Section for the story she reportedly told that she'd been attacked by books there. 070 Not to be outdone, Hermione Confunded Madam Pince in an altercation over her treatment of Geminioed library books last night. 080

Vince got repeatedly charmed, jinxed and hexed out the wazoo, and then taken to the Infirmary. (Ongoing through 097)

Sunny and Severus manoeuvred to have Draco fall down the Grand Staircase and miss Monday's classes so Hermione would have a chance to acclimate to the new situation and get her friends onboard. Not that that worked out so well for her, but still. It's the thought that counts. (Revealed 039)

Albus decides to skip lunch today. Winky had brought him a late breakfast, and he'd sent much of it back to the kitchens, untouched. If he gets hungry later, he can always... Well. He'd said much the same at breakfast, now hadn't he? That's becoming an all too regular thing.

He sighs, more resigned than frustrated.

Which isn't to say that approach to meals isn't the best solution.

He eats what he can, when he can. He needs to keep his strength up.

But at the moment, he'd prefer to use his time more wisely than joining the others in the Great Hall for the meal. (Severus would concur, virtually on a meal to meal basis, but then that's a good part of why he isn't permitted a choice.)

Miss Granger's report last night of the problems with her Loyalty Vow has Albus worried. His fingers tangle absently in his beard, which he now tugs in distraction.

He's not altogether certain if he can add to the bonding Vows after the fact. It would be preferable, obviously, as they're second only to Unbreakable Vows in their strength. (Of course, now he's trying not to think about how despite that, he'd still managed to make such a pig's ear of hers... He really is slipping. Badly.) Unfortunately there's a limit to how many Unbreakable Vows he can sensibly afford to have in play here, and the point had never been to punish her for failure, simply to make it an impossibility. So that's out of the question.

Probably.

But even if they can't expand the bonding Vows ex post facto, she can always take another Oath.

He grunts to himself in amusement. He suspects she won't soon be willing to take another Oath for him for any reason.

Well, perhaps for Severus...

Albus clearly needs more information on bonds and adding to their Vows, and of course on Vows in general... And possibly on Oaths and how to structure them more robustly.

Firmly decided, he heads for the library.

Draco enters the loo only to be greeted by retching sounds.

Hmm.

It's decidedly off putting, and rapidly becoming nauseous himself, he flicks up a Privacy Charm around Theo's stall, rather banking on the boy being too... occupied to chat at the present. Theo's shoes, just peeking out from under the door, rather gave his location away. Someone has quilled 'Hex Me' onto the soles. Draco's betting on some of their younger Housemates having gotten to Theo first. At least he hopes it's not something the older ones might do. And how lovely that it's currently more likely to have been someone within than without the House.

This promises to be a rotten year.

Well, even more so than expected.

He casts a spell to clean the writing from Theo's shoes, but it fails. Permanent Ink then. Splendid.

He casts a third spell, a Cleaning Charm on the floor - it's the boys' lavatory after all, and no matter how good, how conscientious the house elves are, it's only a sensible precaution - and then takes a seat on the floor just outside the stall, with his back to its walls.

"Hey," he greets Theo, but no answer can come. That might be worth mentioning. "I put up the House Privacy Charm for you. You'll need to end it when you're... When you want to speak. Oh, and I brought your books, by the way..." He's not sure what to say to his friend, and can't help feeling this is all his fault. If he hadn't showed Theo the letter.

He nearly laughs at himself, but there's no humour in it.

If he hadn't showed Theo the letter... He lets out a mirthless huff of laughter now after all. As if the letter were the problem.

Merlin, if he'd never laid hand or wand on Granger... That's probably the core of the problem right there.

Or taken the Dark Mark. Or met Potter. Or been born... Maybe that last one is the real issue. He hardly knows where to begin.

He looks around and finds himself wishing Myrtle were here. But then it's probably better this way. He's not sure Theo's in any condition to watch what he says.

He weighs the odds between mindless chatter and silence helping more, and decides against speaking. He's not sure he should risk it, he's too likely to say something wrong. Give something away. Make matters worse. Instead he sits there quietly keeping Theo company. He fishes a bottle of ink from his robes, and with a wave of his wand applies a thin coat to Theo's shoes. It covers up the writing at least. And now he sort of hopes his roommate will stay put for a few minutes more until the stuff dries, because he really doesn't want to explain it.

He needn't have worried. Theo doesn't move for a while. At least not from within the confines of the loo walls.

Eventually the shoes disappear into the stall.

Not long after, Theo lifts the Charm and emerges, pale as a ghost. Well, nearly. Extremely pale, with a bit of a greenish tinge. It doesn't suit him.

It wouldn't suit anyone.

Wordlessly, he crosses to the sink and sticks his head under the faucet, taking a large mouthful of water and rinsing before applying a Dentifricium Charm to clean his teeth. Next he washes his face - manually. Draco wonders a little at that, but there's something different about using water instead of a Charm. Draco watches all of it silently, waiting for Theo to speak.

Not that he's relieved when he does.

"So. Jones then?"

"You know I couldn't tell you if it was."

"Why else do you suppose a Muggle-born might pack up midterm?"

"Do you really want me to hypothesise as to Muggle family logic? What's the point, Theo?"

"It was because of us."

Draco thinks it over. That's probably true, actually. Not the way Theo means it, but really... Their actions led to this.

He shrugs. It's all the answer he'll give. Theo takes it the wrong way, or maybe the right way. Either way, he feels Draco has confirmed his deductions. It's probably just as well.

He stands there leaning against the sinks, cradling his face in his hands, working his fingers through his hair in abject misery. Draco still hasn't gotten up off the floor. When Theo doesn't move for some time, very quietly, he finally says, "You won't have to worry anymore about seeing her in class. At least there's that."

Theo finally looks up, his face a tortured mask. That doesn't seem to be a source of consolation just yet. Draco is certain that will come with time. Even Theo is too pragmatic for it not to. But for the present apparently he needs to torment himself a little more.

Draco can sympathise. Merlin knows, he's been there himself often enough.

They stay there in silence, pursuing their own miserable lines of thought until the door flies open again, and another member of their House rushes in, ending their deadlock.

Ella and Daphne make their way to the pitch, Vince's assorted hexes providing plenty of topics for conversation. Daphne, quite naturally, has a particular favourite. "You haven't seen those wings before either, have you?"

Ella has to disappoint her, but is able to suggest an avenue of enquiry. "They looked pretty real to me. Organic. Normally I'd say human Transfiguration, and a difficult one at that. So N.E.W.T. Level at the least, for sure." Daphne nods in agreement. That had been her take precisely, of course, but then that wouldn't pose a problem for her. It would, however, greatly limit the pool of suspects, and she's determined to work her way through the lot. Ella, as one of the brightest in her year, was understandably near the top of that list. One on one, Daph thinks whoever was behind the spell is less likely to refuse her. "But one of the fifth year Moggies cast something the other day that gave her brother a tail, and if she's anything like Devi - Merlin knows, I've had him in enough of my classes - it can't have been all that difficult..."

Daphne giggles, "That's assuming the result was supposed to be a mouse tail, now isn't it?"

"Fair enough." Ella giggles back. "With their track record, who knows, it might have been the Fairy Wing Charm." She takes advantage of the fact they're alone to be a bit silly and sticks her tongue out teasingly at Daphne. It's so much more pleasant when they aren't being told how to behave properly.

"Oh, well then maybe I should ask them if they can teach me, as no one else seems willing," Daph counters with a smile. "But I'm not so sure we're in a position to talk, or do you think Vince's ears were supposed to flap?"

"Not unless someone has been creative..."

"Seems a bit of a waste if that was the result."

"And now you're assuming that was always the intended result of any such creativity," Ella lifts a brow in her best Snapean fashion, and then winks. "Plus it rather depends on how the flapping felt and how long it took Madam Pomfrey to put a stop to them, now doesn't it?" Both girls giggle again, because Ella is absolutely right, of course, as anyone who has ever stubbed their toes with sufficient force can attest. It isn't always the big, obvious things that bring wizards to their knees.

As Professor Sapworthy would have it, sometimes it's a tiny Serpent. Or three.

Ella continues, "But seriously, I was thinking, it might be worth looking into the subject of simplified human Transfigurations. I had one book in my hands a few weeks ago that hinted at such a thing as a category, and not simply a few spells in isolation. Maybe I can find it again for you later."

"Oh, would you? That would be lovely!" Daph's cooing again. She's one of the few Snakes who do, and the others are much younger. She takes a bit of grief for it, but frankly, there are enough people - and on balance, probably the right ones - who find her enthusiasm makes her more amiable company. "You were able to get a pass, too, then?"

"Yes. I suppose Hestia was right on that score." Ella doesn't sound entirely pleased.

"There are worse things than being trusted," Daph objects.

Ella just laughs, genuinely amused. "For a Slytherin?" And now Daphne's laughing, too. She enjoys spending time with the sixth year Prefect. Ella's a bit like a warmer, friendlier version of Tracey, but then Daph suspects that's because Ella has fewer worries about the political situation than Tracey does, what with Madam Wilkins being a well-established presence on the Wizengamot.

That has to help.

Of course, that might be neglecting - utterly - to consider what happened to Susan Bones' aunt Amelia. Her high profile Wizengamot position definitely hadn't kept her safe, quite the contrary. But then again, Elizabeth Wilkins is far more moderate. And unlike Amelia Bones, she is not the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and was certainly never once considered as a possible replacement for Cornelius Fudge as Minister when he... stepped down. There are advantages to not standing in the Lumos as both the Wilkins and Hutchinson families learnt in the last war, and Elizabeth takes her responsibility to her daughter very seriously.

She won't deliberately make herself a target. Not like Heliotrope Hutchinson had, however inadvertently, whether through ambition or personal conviction or some combination of the two.

Daphne's viewpoint also doesn't reflect the fact that both the Wilkins and Hutchinson families had lost far more in the last war than the Davises have, but that's only fair as it's never really openly discussed. The superficial facts are known, naturally, of course they are, but they tend to lack context, which makes the ramifications even harder to truly comprehend. For all the Snakes' predilection for grasping pressure points, when it comes to their own, if the situation is sufficiently horrifying, propriety demands they maintain a fierce and abiding silence on the matter. They're Britons, after all.

And those less concerned with propriety, there are certainly a few, are generally equally less well equipped to understand the meaning of those events. But then that's frequently the case when there's so little empathy. It makes it a good deal harder to fathom what things truly mean to others.

Ironically, in some ways the Wilkinses' and Hutchinsons' losses have been liberating. Because of what they've been through, the members of those families no longer live quite so much in fear of what could be as Tracey does. Their struggles, such as they are, are with surviving and coping with what actually happened. In the Wilkinses' case, that's admittedly proving more successful than in the Hutchinsons'. With some sadness, Elizabeth considers that only too predictable. She has always credited the assistance she'd received from the Hutchinsons as instrumental in getting her where she is today. They'd taken her and her daughter in after a random Fiendfyre attack claimed her husband's life and their home when Ella was just a baby, and then the Hutchinsons had done everything in their power to help get them back on their feet.

Elizabeth has always regretted not quite being able to repay the favour in kind after Heliotrope was murdered.

"Speaking of Transfiguration, I saw the work you did on Harper's slippers. That was simply beautiful embroidery. Did you do that spontaneously, or..." Ella has done the maths for Transfiguring Harper's pyjamas more than once since the beginning of term, hoping to be on hand with the solution if an opening ever presented itself to do something without insulting her friend. She could well imagine Daphne might have done something of that fashion as well, it would be very like her, but it wouldn't account for how she managed to make the slippers match Blaise's robe. She could hardly have known Harper would come to be the proud new owner of the thing...

Daph pinks, because she really is the oddest little Snake, and admits she'd done the calculations for the slippers well in advance, which makes Ella smile, and not just because she was right. "Not that it helped much. They were Transfigured from who knows what and completely fell apart at first when I tried." Ella winces in sympathy - Merlin knows, she's been there - but Daph shakes her head, smiling. Mistakes happen, and she'd been reasonably sure she could make good in the end, or she wouldn't have risked making matters worse. Of course it helps that her mistakes generally don't involve other people's body parts; there really is a lot to be said for not running around all hex happy as some do. "But I think it worked out well enough. The snakes were a last minute touch," the seventh year shrugs modestly.

"Well done, Daph. Really well done. Is that something you've done a lot of?"

"A little bit, now and again. There's not much call for it."

Ella lets out a huff of amusement, "Have you looked around our House lately? There are tapestries all over the place. Surely there must be some demand for work like that."

"Oh, certainly. Centuries ago. They're not exactly new, now are they?"

"Ah, but you never know when disaster might strike and we'd need to replace the lot," Ella jokes. It's a little close to home; they'd lost everything but Ella herself in the fire sixteen years ago, and awareness of that in Slytherin is sufficient at least that no one else would ever make a joke like that in her presence. Of course that's part of why she does. She'll never feel normal until people treat her that way.

But other than that? Seriously? Who builds their dormitory underwater?

Teasing aside, the Dungeon's location is a completely irrational source of comfort to the Wilkinses, and mother and daughter had breathed sighs of relief when she was sorted there. Given their history, they just can't help it. They assume the chances of a fire there are rather slim.

The girls discuss career choices and the rather piss poor advice Daphne's class had received from that horrible Umbridge woman, and if it had gone any better last year with Professor Dumbledore back in the Headmaster's position (Ella is inclined to feel it hadn't by much; it seemed like he was just Flooing it in) until they reach the pitch.

Charity Burbage, Professor of Muggle Studies, makes an heroic effort at reviving the conversation, and in the most inclusive manner she can conceive asks her colleague, "So, Severus, how are... things?" That earns her a blank look. "Going?" And now Severus fixes her with his quirked eyebrow of disdain. "Um, with... uh..." She flails.

Grandly.

"Married life?" Rolanda supplies with a wicked grin as Septima struggles not to laugh. Severus will have Rolanda's guts for garters one of these days; Septima has no desire to make his 'naughty' list as well.

Severus is suitably pleased not to choke on his tea once again.

Filius, so kindly, takes care of that for him, spluttering up a storm. Fortunately Pomona is too busy trying to suppress giggles of 'canoodling' as Severus glares at Charity and Rolanda to think to clap Filius on the back. Considering their relative sizes, her strength, and the enthusiasm with which she normally claps, he might not have survived it.

Hagrid, by contrast, simply sprays his tea over Professor Taylor, who sits there, dripping and trying to wipe up the mess. Most at the table would have favoured a Tergeo, but Terrence is... different to the rest.

Clearly.

The problem is compounded when Hagrid draws what most might take for a tablecloth from his pocket (they'd be correct as to its origins if not its purpose) and begins to try to blot the man dry. With all his typical care. Blot. Blot. Blot. Hagrid's never really grasped his own strength, and Taylor nearly collapses under the onslaught.

Severus would think withering things about the man's inability to raise a Protego in time against the shower of tea - or Hagrid's attempts to towel him dry, for that matter - worrying in a DADA instructor, but he's too preoccupied trying to curb Rolanda's glee with nothing more than his gaze.

With a lesser witch, it would have worked.

That's presumably true for the majority of the population, in point of fact.

Rolanda, naturally, never stops grinning, but then Charity's decidedly abashed enough for the both of them. Ah, the young people these days, so terribly uptight. It might have cheered Charity to know Rolanda grouped her amongst them. Given her mortification, however, it was unlikely to have helped much just at the present.

Severus sits there, wondering - passingly - if Albus would object - terribly - if he were to Avada Rolanda along with the gnarled old goat when the time comes. At the moment, it certainly seems... tempting. Whatever else, she's obviously itching for another Depilating Draught...

If things had been awkward before, they're more so now, and there's much blushing - on Charity's part, it should be noted; neither Severus nor Rolanda are given to that sort of thing - and the silence that follows (aside from Filius' subsiding chokes) is quite spectacular for the normally chatty table.

"Why, ducky. Just ducky," Severus eventually retorts when no one seems inclined to end the impasse.

There's another beat in which no one says anything, although a few people stare, and then suddenly Professor Taylor begins to chuckle. It's only a moment before his chuckles yield to laughter, the sort of deep belly laugh that soon has the man shaking. Rolanda is quick to join him, and the two chortle up a storm, thigh slapping and practically falling about, clutching at one another in their mirth. Call-Me-Terry, it would seem, has his occasional moments.

Admittedly they're few and far between.

The rest of the table does their best to ignore them. Merlin knows, they're practised.

Filius can understand Charity's discomfort with the ensuing efforts at conversation only too well after his own excruciating one with Severus' bondmate. Clearly trying to discuss anything related to that bond with him was doomed to be far worse. Filius makes a valiant stab at coming to her rescue, taking up the conversational baton, as it were. And of course it was something he'd meant to ask Severus anyway... He'll give it a swish and a flick.

"I say, Severus, about the... Jinx used on Mr. Boot yesterday, would you have any idea which Countercharm to apply to best treat it?" It garners him a raised brow as well, thankfully less disdainful than the one Severus had gifted Charity. But, really, it's only fair Severus should help sort this. One of his had cast the thing on Mr. Boot yesterday, after all. "We've had two more cases since, and Mr. Inglebee's is proving most resistant."

"There's no need for a Charm, Filius," Severus answers in measured tones (that don't quite suggest the man is an imbecile for asking), but if Severus knows the answer, he rather expects Filius to as well. This was hardly dark magic, and Charms are the man's subject, after all. Of course, it helps that Severus has the advantage of having performed Legilimency on the boys after the duel. He hardly had the opportunity to wonder what on earth he was looking at before he simply knew. Things generally seem a good deal simpler once one knows the answers. "The Boil-Cure Potion should work just fine." And now he pauses, genuinely perplexed. "Why isn't Poppy treating it that way already?"

"Ah. Are you quite sure?" Filius asks, and Severus' quirked eyebrow in reply isn't as restrained as his voice. Filius can scarcely help noticing and tries to justify the question, "They certainly didn't look like that would be the best approach. And the third case seems very different."

"But you're certain it's the same jinx?" Filius' head bobs rapidly. "Perhaps a miscast," Severus shrugs.

"Most definitely a miscast," the Charmsmaster agrees. "It appears to have... gone a little off the mark.

"It could be..." He pauses considering Severus' suggestion, deliberating if it corresponds at all with what he'd seen, and how much the Potion could conceivably help. He can't rule it out, and Severus has good instincts about these things, very good, to be sure, but Filius also can't begin to explain what happened to Mr. Inglebee. It's all most confounding. "I suppose the first two... jinxes were cast by seventh years, perhaps the difference is because the third caster was younger..."

Severus snorts. "So, too, was the last caster three years ago. He was only a fourth year at the time." Considering Potter, he feels confident adding, "Age and ability won't be the issues here, I assure you. I believe you'll find everyone who performed it yesterday has directly or indirectly learnt it from Potter. He's the source of the problem, in this as in so many other things," he finishes a little lower, looking at the thin ring on his hand with an air of resignation.

"But what on earth was the hex?" 'Hex' is practically whispered, Filius believes firmly in the staff policy to avoid referring to student attacks as anything other than 'jinxes', but, Merlin. The look of the boys...

"Furnunculus Jinx."

"Never!"

Minerva had joined them midway through the exchange and can vouchsafe that Mr. Weasley had confirmed it. "I spoke to him this morning, Filius," she explains, "before we got the news..." She looks apologetically at Pomona, whose face falls at the recollection. "He was quite insistent that it was the Pimple Jinx."

"Really?" Filius' tone rises until it's nothing but a squeak. Fortunately he doesn't mind squeaking. "With those lamellae?"

"I reported it to Poppy. She definitely shares your opinion," Minerva assures him. "So much so, I believe she was firmly resolved to hold off treating Mr. Inglebee until she'd had another opportunity to confer with you." Filius appears pacified, and Severus simply shakes his head at their stubborn scepticism. Thoroughly engaged with the matter at hand, no one spares a thought for the irony.

"It seemed a little... Well, I'd never have guessed the Furnunculus just from looking at it." Filius' disbelief is still abundantly clear.

"Potter learnt the Jinx under insular conditions, in written form, and not by watching it actually performed," the Head of Slytherin begins to try to explain the results.

"Why, Severus! You're suggesting Mr. Potter reads in his spare time?" Minerva can't suppress a smirk.

"A booklet of Jinxes? Why, yes, I believe even he could see his way clear to doing that." He looks at the boy sitting at the end of the nearby table and shakes his head. "He seems to have picked it up from a pamphlet he was given by the Weasleys, the twins as it happens, the source of so many other problems." And he owes that bit of knowledge to the Legilimency he performed after the duel three years ago. Useful thing after a duel. Certainly more useful than the Legilimens he'd done with Irma earlier anyway. "But he made two mistakes."

It's Minerva's turn to snort, "Of course he did. Only the two?"

Severus ignores her. "For one, he mispronounced 'Furnunculus', which is typical of never having heard the Jinx spoken correctly, ergo, a printed source." It never ceases to amaze him how presenting a piece of deductive reasoning now and again - and may it be ever so specious - keeps the vast majority of people from suspecting Legilimency as the source of much of his information. That in turn has undoubtedly staved off the wholesale study of Occlumency on the part of the faculty.

Or perhaps not, he thinks with a glance towards Taylor.

Many staff members aren't overly industrious, and probably wouldn't have made the effort either way. Merlin knows, they've had reason enough to suspect Albus of... listening in for decades now.

"And for the other, the wand movement should be a straight line with a round outcropping to the right, but instead of a bump, I believe he made it more of a sharp jag. Sloppiness, pure and simple. It doesn't even make sense for a boil, but... Potter." Severus shrugs a bit dramatically. "Need I say more?" He waves his hand dismissively in the direction of the Moggies' table.

"Those... modifications will have been repeated in the other iterations; the others mimicked what they'd seen. Malfoy's jag was sharper, and the mispronunciation exaggerated, but otherwise it remained essentially unchanged."

"But what happened with the third attempt? What went wrong?"

"Who cast it on your young Ravenclaw?"

"Mr. Creevey, as I understand it," Filius looks expectantly at Minerva, and she nods in confirmation. He's learnt his lesson, and most certainly will not be mentioning the man's bondmate had told him so. Wild Thestrals...

"I'll wager it was the younger of the two," Severus replies.

Minerva looks surprised but nods again. "As a matter of fact, it was."

"You're having us on!" Pomona cries.

"You just guessed," Rolanda guesses. He shakes his head. "So how did you know?" She demands.

"He's left handed."

Minerva groans, she can't believe it didn't occur to her. Filius begins to nod his head slowly in admiration.

"Well observed, Severus. Well observed." But Pomona appears puzzled, and Filius explains, "It was the wand movement. For a left handed caster, he's suggesting the outcropping would have needed to be to the other side, mirrored, and Mr. Creevey failed to adjust for that. Quite reasonably, of course. He couldn't have known. The Jinx is hardly part of the curriculum." Filius is just the embodiment of tolerance. Severus sometimes thinks Filius would make an honest effort to understand You-Know-Who given half a chance.

"But how could you tell?" Charity asks.

"The results," Severus shrugs. "If a jinx is simple enough that at least two people have committed it to memory after observing it only once... They heard it cast and so are pronouncing it 'correctly'. Or incorrectly as the case may be. Reproducing it faithfully at any rate. So it's the wandstroke that's causing the problem. But similarly it can't have been complicated for them to learn it after seeing it just the once. And the Furnunculus isn't particularly.

"That left the issue of handedness as the most likely culprit for what went wrong in the third case."

"Oddly that isn't much of a problem with plants. They don't particularly care which hand weeds them," Pomona chuffs in amusement.

Rolanda chuckles in agreement, "Brooms couldn't give a toss either."

Pomona shakes her head, and then narrows her eyes at Severus suspiciously. "And you didn't just happen to know the movement for the Furnunculus is dependent on the dominant hand of the caster?"

"I didn't. I don't," Severus now shakes his head in turn. "It's as I told Charity. Given the facts, as a theory, I consider it likely."

Septima begins to explain, "Normally they'd use Arithmancy to predict that..."

Severus laughs, his amusement sincere. "Normally they'd perform it, have it go wrong, and then figure it out. Just as we have now," he grins a little smugly.

"Most Charmsmakers are right handed," Filius tries his hand again at the explanation, "as are most witches and wizards, it follows that most Charms are right handed. Usually it doesn't matter. Every once in a very rare while - most infrequently - it does, in the case of an irregular Spell, and a left handed practitioner needs to mirror the movement."

"I find most often when human physiology is involved as the target of the spell," Severus adds.

Filius stares at him in stunned silence for a moment as he considers the small handful of examples he knows. "Oh, that is well observed. Very well observed. I think you may have something there," he finally acknowledges with a low whistle of appreciation.

"Well, it's a mistake you can't afford to make when dealing with the Dark Arts," Severus allows generously, minimising his accomplishment. "It's important to know those things." A few eyes tick to Terrence, all sure that he does not.

"I'd say give Inglebee the Potion and treat whatever symptoms are left after that. It's probably the best approach," Severus suggests.

"Do you know, you may be on to something about human physiology, Severus. Handedness isn't a factor in a single Transfiguration of an inanimate object, but there are a couple of human Transfigurations where it plays a role... It's so rare, I hadn't thought of it." The Head of Gryffindor sounds impressed.

"It makes a difference in the occasional potion as well, Minerva."

"Oh, really? I'd never encountered it," Filius asks, his intellectual curiosity piqued.

"Probably not one in a thousand, Filius. It's even rarer in Potions than Charms. Less... wand waving as a whole, naturally. And it's not a factor in the brewing of a single potion we teach the students either. Merlin knows, the class is dangerous enough as it is. Frankly, I'd have been surprised had you heard of it."

"The question now would be is it wiser to make the issues with the Furnunculus known or to keep it to ourselves..." Minerva looks at her House's table and considers the permutations.

Severus smirks, "Worried about cack-handed casting?" His brow twitches provocatively.

"Do you suppose a right handed person would have the same results if he or she mirrored the wandstroke?" Filius sounds genuinely intrigued.

Minerva is correct, there are a very few Transfigurations for which problems for the left handed are known. One of those Transfigurations has a special place in school lore. It's rumoured, and carefully has never been substantiated - interference with Muggles is a very serious issue, after all - that Hagrid had... gifted Potter's cousin with a pig's tail once several years ago. And of course as the Ministry had forbidden Hagrid to perform magic, the consequences of verifying the details of the incident could be devastating. But that Transfiguration just so happens to be one of those Charms.

Severus doesn't waste much time. He looks to his House's table and spots Goyle, the only one of the seventh year boys present. 'Needs must', as Albus would say. A reversed spiralling flick of Severus' wand has the boy leaping from his seat with a suitably appropriate squeal and sprouting something from his arse that looks like a cross between an enormous snake's and a pig's tail.

Sort of like the improbably corkscrewed end of an anaconda.

It's not a good look.

It's also exceedingly heavy.

Were the boy any less strong, it would have undoubtedly pulled him backwards from his seat before he could rise. As it is, he struggles to stand there, his knees going weak from the weight of the thing.

The Slytherins stare at their Housemate and not a one notices that half the High Table gawps at Severus instead. In fact, the only one of the students who does is Harry, because he'd immediately turned to look towards Hagrid.

"Severus." Minerva scolds and performs the 'Finite Incantatem' that would normally end the Spell. It takes her six more attempts before the monstrous appendage has vanished. And that from a very experienced and highly competent Transfiguration Professor. Her frustration over that is slightly audible as she admonishes, "We don't experiment on students."

Filius chuckles, "Really, Minerva, you might have asked first. Mr. Goyle may have wished to keep it..." and Pomona begins giggling something again about how Minerva feels about 'canoodling'.

"Tell that to Albus," Severus grumbles at the Head of Gryffindor.

Turning to the others with all his usual equanimity on display, he drawls, "I'd say we have our answer."

"Or you miscast." Taylor is apparently hard-wired to cavil. Severus just lifts an eyebrow, more in surprise at the incongruous logic from the man than at the slight.

Filius makes an effort to explain that would be improbable, but instead Severus calmly replies with a smirk, "As you say, or I miscast. Highly likely." He nods serenely.

And then doesn't try it a second time on Taylor.

He's proud of that.

Truthfully, he shouldn't be. It had never been probable that he'd risk it. Severus is extremely disciplined, and doing so would have put him nicely in the frame for having cast the spell on Goyle as well. He's far from reckless. But he likes to at least imagine what might happen were he to yield to his baser instincts every now and again.

Yes, he likes that a lot.

Goyle, once again tailless, meanwhile is dashing from the room. That seems to be a trend with those boys today. The primary difference in Goyle's retreat being his hands struggling to cover the non-trivial hole in his trousers...

That sight earns Severus another disapproving look from Minerva, but her looks can't hold a candle to his.

And conversation at the High Table stalls once more.

When she hears of the Spell later, Daphne will grill poor Gregory relentlessly as she adds it to her list of simplified Human Transfigurations. Well, presumably simplified, for a student to carry it off out the blue like that without heaps of practice the rest of the school would surely have long since heard about. Obviously.

Because what were the chances it had been done by a Professor?