“beyond wandpoint” 101 by gingerbred
Mar. 24th, 2019 12:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
beyondwandpoint“11 12n Wednesday - Afternoon Classes”
Hermione Granger, Staff: Poppy Pomfrey, Nurse Wanda Wainscott, Slytherins: Draco Malfoy, Theo Nott, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Daphne Greengrass, Tracey Davis, Millicent Bulstrode, Alberta Runcorn, Gryffindors: Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Hufflepuffs: Justin Finch-Fletchley, Wayne Hopkins, Others: the Bloody Baron, Portrait Phineas Nigellus Black
Mentioned briefly: Slytherins: Harper Hutchinson, Ella Wilkins, Valerie Vaisey, Val Vaisey
Originally Published: 2018-12-30 on AO3
Chapter: 101
Characters:
Hermione 7G (Prefect, Supreme Swot)
Staff:
Poppy Pomfrey (Mediwitch extraordinaire), Nurse Wanda Wainscott (chatty)
Slytherins:
Draco 7S (Prefect, Team Captain, Seeker, Swot), Theo Nott 7S (Swottiest, Nervous Wreck), Vincent 'Vince' Crabbe 7S (Beater, Winged ex-Couch still-Potato), Gregory Goyle 7S (Beater), Daphne Greengrass 7S (Sparkly! Fwoopers!), Tracey Davis 7S (Swottier), Millicent 'Millie' Bulstrode (Reserve Beater, yes, that.), Alberta Runcorn 7S (Grumpy, but not as much so as the Staircase.)
Gryffindors:
Harry 7G (Team Captain, Seeker, the Boy-Who-Lived-to-Annoy-Severus), Ron Weasley 7G (Prefect, Keeper (but only in the Quidditch sense), the Boy-Who-Exists-to-Annoy-Hermione), Neville Longbottom 7G (errant Herbal Knight)
Hufflepuffs:
Justin Finch-Fletchley (Muggle-born member of the D.A.), Wayne Hopkins (aspiring Egyptologist)
Others:
The Bloody Baron (Slytherin House Ghost), Portrait Phineas Nigellus Black (erstwhile Headmaster, ex-HoS)
Mentioned briefly: Slytherins: Harper Hutchinson 6S (Prefect, Chaser, flash Robe Model), Ella Wilkins 6S (Prefect), Valerie 'Val' Vaisey 6S (Chaser), Val Vaisey (Class of '97, Valerie's cousin)
Previously:
Suspecting they may need to fill in for the Slytherin seventh year boys, the House's reserve Quidditch players have been practising with the sixth year Chasers during lunch. 098-100
Gregory dashes for the loo after Severus'... experiment in the Great Hall temporarily gifts him a spiralled snake's tail. As if that weren't bad enough, it ruined his trousers in the process. Draco, all too used to this sort of thing, is good enough to repair them for him. 099
Millie and Alberta make a concerted effort and learn the Mobilicorpus, which they use, perhaps not quite optimally, to transport Vince back to the dorms from the Infirmary Tuesday evening. (On the upside, they made Ernie Macmillan's day in the process. Vince's... less so.) 081
Severus employs the Universal Solvent to 'unstick' Vince from the couch, at least as far as appearances go. What it really does is irritate the skin with which it comes in contact more than a classroom full of Gryffindors is prone to irritate Severus. Full of Longbottoms, even. Gregory, just the soul of luck, gets some on him when Vince flops into his lap and promptly develops a reaction to the stuff. 095 Severus... dispatches them both to the Infirmary. 097
The Baron had a heart to heart with the portraits in which he requested their assistance in keeping an eye on the Head's bondmate. Of course he... may have suggested they'd face relocation to dark and lonely corners of the castle should they fail to do so. Mentioned 078
Hermione tells the Baron about her unsatisfactory visit to the Headmaster's office last night. 098 She further causes him some unease when she mentions she'd had a 'fit' last night. 100
Draco manages to get a couple of 'Puffs to cast hexes outside of Runes while ostensibly defending Hermione's honour. (Her brain melts at that, just a little.) The hexes rebound and the unfortunate victims are sent to the Infirmary. 100
Millie's fresh from their unofficial Quidditch practice and is rushing down the corridor. She's hoping to swing by the Great Hall while they're still serving for another bite to eat. Harper's Cleaning and Cleansing Charms saved a great deal of time over showering - she really needs to learn those - and she thinks she might get to the Hall just in time. Daphne and Ella had brought them something, nicely enough, really, but those... waifs just have no idea about portion sizes, and frankly, Millie is still feeling a might peckish.
Fine, she's hungry, having worked up quite the appetite on the pitch, gods damn it.
Er, for goodness' sake. Yes. That.
She's cutting it close, a thought reinforced by the sight of a few of their fourth years belting down the corridor in the opposite direction, presumably running late for their next class.
She hasn't quite made it to the Hall when she hears a strange noise and slows her pace, her wand instantly to hand. She's no fool.
Weird noises are an all too common occurrence in the castle, but the smart witch comes prepared.
There are any of a number of things it could be, what she isn't expecting is what it is.
Gregory appears, literally crawling from the lav. He's on the floor, pulling himself along, moaning up a storm. It's more than passing strange.
All thoughts of food forgotten, Millie is nice that way, she hurries to her friend's side. "Gregory! What's wrong?"
He's not able to form a coherent sentence.
It's just as well, as it's not a pleasant story.
But clearly it needs telling.
Over the course of the day, and admittedly not very originally, several members of their House have had the same idea: that it might be... amusing to remove the loo rolls from the lavatories used by the seventh year boys. Adolescent male humour frequently isn't precisely a... nuanced thing. They aren't very original, a problem compounded by the fact that, by and large, they aren't coordinating their attacks beyond basic tips and pointers. In fact, this is fourth time one of them has resorted to this ploy against the seventh years today. Vince has been spared only because he was glued to a couch and then delivered to the Infirmary. His luck won't hold - or rather: it does and remains poor - but at least by then he's forewarned.
Interestingly, although perhaps not so surprisingly, their responses to the problem are as varied as the boys themselves, as they'll discover tomorrow when they finally begin to speak to one another more openly about the attacks on them. Draco was fortunate enough to be the first hit. He'd simply Summoned a new roll. That much his Housemates shared with one another, and in subsequent attempts, all loo rolls were Banished from the lavs, a fact that will irritate the elves quite a bit. Of course, it irritates the seventh years more. Or potentially parts of their anatomies. Theo Transfigured some paper, it wasn't any great challenge. Frankly, he's done it before, and it's possible his Transfiguration is softer than the usual fare. Blaise almost predictably applied an Aguamenti and Drying Charm. As he explains to Vince tomorrow, it's rather like a bidet, not that he expects Vince to know what he's talking about.
Vince will be undecided if he should take offence. Blaise is a bit... Well, he may not be quite the standard by which Vince thinks a wizard should be measured. It's entirely possible not understanding him speaks for a person.
The real problem was with Gregory. He hasn't quite as many spells in his repertoire as the others.
And very sadly - it's really such a shame - no one bothered to tell him that the Scourgify he used on Vince this morning was meant for scouring cookware.
Consequently, finding himself in a bit of a situation, he elects to use it on... himself.
As unpleasant as Vince had found it, and it was, when applied to more... sensitive body parts, the pain is immeasurably worse. Ultimately, it will land Gregory in the Infirmary. (And so oddly the Matron seems to have no sympathy whatsoever, but then perspective is everything and frequently wanting.) Upon seeing his state, Vince will feel somewhat avenged for this morning's application of the Charm. It will also convince him, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that Gregory hadn't meant anything by it.
Nothing at all.
Merlin knows, no one would do this to themselves deliberately.
But the boy is still a ways from the Infirmary. At the moment, he's a puddle of human misery on the hallway floor.
Millie can't make any sense of his whimpers, but she's reasonably sure a visit to Madam Pomfrey is in order; she's clocked that even without First Aid courses. She's just trying to puzzle out how to do it when Alberta arrives, apparently coming from the Great Hall with Gregory's books in hand. She's surprised and a little disappointed to see how well his trousers have been mended, bollocks, but then they'd declared the seventh years off limits anyway.
Still.
Pity.
That was an arse worth seeing.
And while she's at a bit of a loss how he'd managed to repair his clothing so well, or how Millie had for that matter, Alberta has even less luck trying to explain to herself what he's doing on the ground. She gives up trying and turns to her roommate, "What happened?"
"I haven't a clue. I just found him like this. You have the next period free, too... Would you mind helping me get him to Madam Pomfrey?"
"Well, we certainly can't leave him here," Alberta agrees, even if she doesn't seem terribly happy about it. "Who thought the Mobilicorpus would come in handy again so soon?"
And that finally does the trick.
Gregory pulls himself together enough to beg, "No! Please!"
While they were lying about the Infirmary first period - Vince for his assorted hexes, and Gregory patiently waiting for Pomfrey to address the worst of those before she looked to his own rash - Vince in cataloguing his injuries had been rather... graphic about the shape the girls' Mobilicorpus had left him in yesterday.
Gregory has no desire to be on the receiving end of that.
It's a little unclear how much of that was the assorted hexes of their Housemates, Alberta's Diffindos (not that that's to say Gregory's had been better, they certainly hadn't been), or the Mobilicorpus... But it is fair to say the Mobilicorpus hadn't been pleasant.
It's all Gregory manages, but his 'No!' is clear enough.
Some people are even willing to accept that for an answer.
Somewhat affronted, the girls nevertheless brace him, one under each arm, and half carry him to the Infirmary, where Madam Pomfrey is surprised to see him again so soon.
"Is he still having problems with the reaction to the Universal Solvent?" she asks. The girls really can't say. Pomfrey directs them to deposit Gregory on the bed next to Vince. Again.
"Back so soon?" Vince observes from where he's lying on his stomach, his wings steadily flapping above him. It's a strange sight. "Missed me?" But Gregory is in no shape to respond to his attempts at humour.
Alberta has no desire to stick around. They've gone above and beyond by getting their Housemate here. Anything else flies in the face of what they'd agreed about the seventh year boys just yesterday, Alberta is sure. It's one thing to make sure some Moggie doesn't steal Gregory's abandoned textbooks or not to leave him writhing on the floor; it's another entirely to socialise. As soon as they've explained to the Matron how they'd discovered Gregory outside the lav, there's really nothing further to say, she turns to her roommate and asks, "You coming, Millie?"
Millie is less certain about how she should see the boys, Gregory and Vince in particular, and frankly she's feeling a little guilty for practising as she had during lunch in relative secret. It feels too much like going behind their backs to try to replace them. Actually, that's a pretty good assessment of what they'd done. Obviously, she'll feel even worse when neither of the boys make it to this afternoon's practice, and Millie and Sheldon will be forced to fill in for them.
"I thought as long as I'm here, I'd stop and visit a bit..." Millie sounds unsure, that uncertainty apparent. Alberta will definitely be speaking to the other girls about this.
"It's up to you," she answers, but only half means it. The decision is Millie's for the moment, sure, but Alberta plans to have the rest of the girls exert as much pressure on her roommate as they can to get her back in line. She's quietly confident it won't take much doing to straighten her out. Typically, she's underestimating Millie. Many people do.
Alberta enlargens and deposits Gregory's books on the table next to him and leaves without a backwards glance.
Had she known that Madam Pomfrey's diagnostic charms would soon have her Divestoing Gregory's trousers and pants again behind makeshift screens that do a truly poor job indeed of screening, she'd probably have stayed for the view.
And then the sight of her classmate's thoroughly abraded backside might have alleviated any qualms she had about helping him.
While Poppy can't muster much pity for these Slytherins, not after what happened to Severus and Madam Snape, she recognises a need to act when her Charms detect one. And Nimue's knickers, is there ever a need to act here. She can't begin to explain what was done to the boy - if pressed, she'd almost guess 'torture'.
Not that she finds an assault on his genitals entirely unfitting after Friday... But in a school. This kind of behaviour is frightening. And it seems yet another truly terrifying escalation.
That is until she later learns that he'd been fool enough to do this to himself.
Then the sense of relief will be immense, disbelief over student stupidity following closely on its heels.
Some people probably shouldn't be allowed to wield wands.
For the present, she Summons some Liquid Skin immediately and gets to work.
Of course, she still supposedly hasn't got any Pain Relief. She almost feels guilty as she perpetuates that sham.
Almost.
Vince takes advantage of Millie's presence to put the screws to her, he just is that sort of person. He decides to blag a favour while he still can. He hadn't missed the look Alberta threw Millie when she decided to stay. The window of opportunity is closing here. He strikes before it shuts completely.
Her attention is firmly on what she can see of Gregory beyond the screen the Mediwitch had flicked into place between them, although probably not for quite the same reasons Alberta might have stared. Vince is undaunted and lobs volley after volley her way.
The problems with his allergies. Terrible. At this rate, he won't be able to play. And they need him. Match against the Moggies, isn't there? No one wants the Moggies to win...
Before she can object that their need of him is clearly contradicted by what's going on with his allergies, he's moved on to explain that. Superficially, anyway. She still has issues with his logic and suppositions.
It's probably down to the sixth year boys, angling for his spot on the team. He needs her help. He'd helped her get on the team, hadn't he? He desperately needs a charm to Banish all the Kneazle hairs. Millie should know something like that anyway, she has a cat, doesn't she? The charms are the same...
Millie naturally knows no such charms (somehow people always seem to want things from her that make her feel even more inadequate), and equally naturally has no desire to admit that.
Bugger. Er... darn.
But Vince can read that on her face. Enough of it anyway. He shifts course.
If she could just go to the library for him... It would be the work of minutes to look up such a charm.
Probably substantially longer, she thinks, but not too terribly so.
"I could ask Harper," Millie suggest hopefully. Researching really isn't her thing. "He's had Crankshaft for a while," probably about as long as she's had her cat Maleficent, so she's not sure the argument holds... "He might know the Charm and be able to show you?"
"Millie, I'm pretty sure his damn Kneazle is the creature I'm allergic to. And there's no way that his fur is getting in my bed unless they're deliberately arranging it somehow." She doesn't correct him that Crankshaft is a half-Kneazle, but his point is taken. There are Charms on the doorways after all. "Plus I don't think they want anything to do with us, so asking him to teach me... That's not going to help, now is it?"
"And if I asked him to teach me?"
"Millie, I'll be better off if he thinks his prank is still working. Then he'll stick to that instead of coming up with something new. Or do you want a repeat of this morning? More hexes? Even more wings?" He flaps his demonstratively to emphasise his point, and she's forced to lean back quickly to avoid them. "Or do you want me to end up like Gregory?" They can both hear his moans from behind the screen. It's not... encouraging.
"Look," he tries again, "you'll be better off if you don't ask. You don't want them to suspect you've helped us. And I appreciate it, I really do. You're a good friend, Millie. Bringing Gregory here like that. What kind of animals would do that to him? And then just leave him lying there..."
Having gotten all pertinent information from Mr. Goyle and appropriate potions into him, Poppy resorts to a Stupefy for pain management without any further hesitation. In the final analysis, Mr. Goyle usually fares worse on the pitch. She surveys her work with a satisfied huff, taking a moment to catch her breath before Wanda's calls and the very obvious results of the castle's latest contretemps demand her attention elsewhere.
With another sigh, this time a mixture of exhaustion and resignation, she shifts to the newest challenge. From the look of it, it's another one for her collection of pictures.
Say what you will, the work here is seldom boring.
By the time Madam Pomfrey seems to have Gregory's treatment well in hand, Vince has persuaded Millie to go to the library after classes, before practice. When it comes right down to it, he's laid up, she feels guilty about basically trying to steal his spot on the team, and he's a friend (isn't he?), no matter what he's done. Probably. She's becoming a lot less sure of that, and she keeps hearing Hestia's and Val's voices, why did he open his Serpent in private...
That thought and the doubts it raises cause her to leave a little earlier than she has to. "I'll see what I can do for you about that Charm, Vince." But there's no way she's going to find the answer in the time before practice. Fortunately, today's a Wednesday and she has a little extra time after classes today. Still. She suspects he'll be lucky if she has the answer by week's end.
Before she leaves, she seeks out Madam Pomfrey. The Matron is currently busy with a couple of Hufflepuffs. Hopkins lies there, apparently recovering from whatever he'd had, and now she's treating that Muggle-born Hufflepuff Finch-whatsit. Somehow or another he's managed to get himself two heads. Millie is certain that was a misfired hex, she's never heard of such a thing as a spell that does that in its own right. (Not that she's an expert, of course not, but that does seem the sort of thing people might talk about...) She's equally sure from watching the miserable 'Puff's expressions and consternated Mediwitch that two heads aren't actually better than one.
Shows what people know.
Poppy finally notices the girl lurking there and turns her attention towards the Slytherin. "What can I do for you, Miss Bulstrode?" Millie hesitates and Poppy encourages her further, "Come now. Speak up. I can't read minds."
"Matron, is there any chance I could... Could I perhaps have some Pain Relieving Potion?" The question is tentative, the young woman visibly unsure.
"I'm sorry, Miss Bulstrode, we still haven't any in store. In the end, I was forced to Stupefy Mr. Goyle." Millie sighs. That means she'll have to ask Tracey for some whether she wants to or not. Well, they might not need any for Gregory or Vince with the way things look. If the Beater still has those wings, there's no way he'll be at practice later. So just for Blaise and Draco then...
"If it's an emergency, we can Floo you to St. Mungo's..." Personally, Poppy can't imagine it is. The way the witch seems to be hemming and hawing about it, she probably has her monthlies. She doesn't perform a Charm to check her suspicion, however. If the young witch isn't seeking her advice on the matter, Poppy's perfectly capable of keeping her wand to herself.
"No, Matron. Thank you. I appreciate the offer, but it... it isn't an emergency."
Monthlies then, Poppy is certain.
"Do we need to feed both the heads then?" Wanda interjects as the young woman turns to leave. The nurse stands there with a reference text in hand, absently shaking her head as she flips the pages with little sign of satisfaction. "I can't find anything definitive on it."
"Let's just hope we've sorted him by dinner and needn't worry about it, shall we? If we haven't, we'll see then."
Justin, quite oddly, doesn't find that the least bit reassuring. He glares crossly - with both heads - at Wayne, who looks extremely uncomfortable as he shrugs his shoulders in apology.
They're in complete agreement, he so owes him for this.
Afternoon classes now in session, the Bloody Baron drifts down deserted corridors with a determined expression that would have sent any unfortunate enough to encounter him scrambling. He heads straight for the Grand Staircase. Midway up the wall in a position quite inaccessible to the human inhabitants of the castle hangs an empty portrait that is his target. He stops, floating in front of it, and in his eerie whisper calls, "Headmaster. Headmaster Black."
Phineas Nigellus doesn't wait long to appear.
The positioning of his portrait was as deliberate as everything else the Slytherin Headmaster had ever done or arranged. In his opinion, there were a few factors that dictated ideal locations. What he could observe from the space, the potential views, the accessibility of other portraits, the physical breadth of their landscape and the painted variety thereof, the quality of company provided and the information they in turn could offer - those were all very important. But perhaps most crucially, he was concerned with the amount of background noise the position dictated. He'd felt he deserved some peace and quiet in the hereafter, and as he'd been in a position to see to it, he had, in the process securing himself the best of all worlds, he was sure.
He can see much of the comings and goings in the castle and easily visit hundreds of other portraits from that location. The stairwell, in fact, boasts the largest conglomeration of magical portraits in the Wizarding British Isles. His reach is quite extensive from there, thanks to a nearly unbroken run of paintings in all directions for quite some distance, and he still congratulates himself, regularly, for that arrangement. But as his painting is thoroughly out of the way, when absent he isn't still exposed to the steady stream of noise a location like Salazar's is.
As such, when Phineas is called there, he's more likely to hear it and generally very quick to surface.
At present, he most reasonably assumes it's urgent, and pops out of Albus' office - his own erstwhile office - to answer the ghost's call.
Phineas will soon be sorry he did.
The Baron has decidedly gotten the wrong end of the wand. The ghost is apparently quite certain the portrait had been abusive towards the Head's bondmate last night, and it would seem he means not to stand for it.
Or float, as the case may be.
He doesn't tarry about much, but gets straight to the threats, primarily to have the portrait relocated.
As far as Phineas is concerned, they're simply a rehash of yesterday's. He hadn't been impressed with them then, he's even less impressed with them now, and for the life of him - figuratively speaking - he can't seem to understand what's gotten into the ghost. Unfortunately, although the ghost is clearly agitated, he's not particularly communicative, and he fails to get that point across as well as Phineas would like.
Well, not like, exactly, but find useful.
Frankly the portrait is now rather tired of intimidation tactics, especially when he believes them to be hollow, and he's not naturally particularly cooperative on his best days. Predictably, he gives the ghost nothing but lip and completely neglects to mention that he'd actually been (reasonably) polite and on balance somewhat helpful last night. Admittedly the help had come a bit late - fine, it was after the fact - but then he could hardly help it if the witch refused to look at his portrait; it's not as though he were permitted to interrupt, shouting for her attention in the Headmaster's office. That really would get him moved.
(More accurately, of course, it would break all manner of restrictions and simply couldn't be done, but even portraits don't care to admit the extent to which they're bound.)
Phineas has also had opportunity to draw some of his own conclusions as to Madam Snape's recent... misadventures. Mudblood or not, a Black doesn't shirk his duty and his duty here is clear. But as he isn't aware that the Baron knows of her... unfortunate experiences, he's not inclined to mention them or his resultant willingness to be more helpful either.
Pity that, as it would have solved the whole misunderstanding.
It's a curious argument. The portrait endeavouring to keep his voice low, muttering easily five words to the ghost's whispered one, none of which have any real meaning. Their location is too prominent and neither has any desire to air House matters in front of so very many other portraits. The sensible thing, naturally, would have been to withdraw to a quite corner, chasing the occupant from a remote portrait, but both are now too riled to be reasonable enough to suggest such a thing or even comply had the other done so. And so they continue their low exchange of whispered menaces and objections.
Finally Phineas has had enough and simply laughs, "Fine, move me to the Grumpy Turret if you must. See if I care."
"Staircase," the Baron corrects, still wafting there before him.
"What?"
"Grumpy Staircase," he explains slightly more fully and perhaps a touch petulantly, but he's mentioned it at least a half a dozen times. Clearly the portrait isn't paying him the proper attention.
"Turret. Staircase. It makes little difference. We had neither in my day; perhaps I'd like to see the new addition. A change of scenery. How droll. Do your worst, I refuse to be cowed." He finishes a touch dramatically and laughs heartily again for all the reasons he'd laughed at the threats yesterday and because the Baron has been fool enough to approach him with nothing more in hand. He'd thought better of the ghost than that he'd attempt the same weak gambit twice. And Phineas is quite sure, he himself is grumpier than the stairwell at any rate.
No, not even the threat of the Grumpy Staircase moves him, although it helps that's he's certain he'll never come to see it. Merlin, he's almost curious about it now.
Thoroughly vexed, the Baron withdraws, leaving the portrait still laughing on the wall behind him.
This, then, is what happens when he overplays his cards.
It's bitter.
A few things are amply clear.
He doesn't enjoy this feeling in the least. He means not to experience it again, and must be more... cautious in the days to come with the students so this doesn't become an... epidemic.
He positively hates failure. Nothing's changed there since he died, then. He had a goal and has failed... for the moment anyhow, and he has no intention of leaving things this way.
If it's the last thing he does, although that does seem unlikely - he is a ghost, when all is said and done - he means to teach that portrait a lesson.
It's only appropriate, really, as he's spent nearly a millennium haunting a school. He likes to think he's learnt a thing or two about teaching in that time.
The trek to Herbology is different today than it had been yesterday. For one thing, other than the two Slytherins, the only member of the Ancient Runes class to take Herbology with them is Justin, and he... Well, he probably has other things on his minds. (And either way, he's still in the Infirmary.)
Goyle isn't with them in this class either, so as they leave, it's just Malfoy and Nott, taking up their positions by Hermione as a very strange sort of honour guard. The duel before class, if it could properly be called that...
Professor Babbling had objected to the term, of course, but Hermione suspects Malfoy had sort of set the Hufflepuffs up for that result...
She's just not sure if doing so was... wrong.
But the exchange, whatever one chooses to call it, seems to have shaken Nott out of his... fit, and although he's obviously far from comfortable with her, not like he'd been yesterday, he again walks more or less by her side, albeit at a marked distance, keeping an even sharper eye out for trouble.
Which isn't to say he didn't die a thousand deaths when Draco put Theo between himself and the witch.
The duel, and that's precisely how Theo sees it, had indeed reestablished his role for him, at least respective this particular witch. If anything, he feels even more strongly about doing his duty to his House and his Head in trying to help her. For what little that's worth...
He can't undo whatever they must have done to Jones, and he'll probably blame himself for that until the end of his days... But this is a Muggle-born he can help, he'll be permitted to help, possibly even expected to do so - depending on how he interprets his father's owl - and maybe this way, just maybe he can atone.
A little.
He means to do what he can for her.
Draco has similar thoughts, although with less uncertainty and self loathing. Not yet, anyway, and not today. The more strongly Theo reacts, the less strongly Draco seems to, as if in the process of trying to talk Theo out of it, he's been helping himself. (That will inevitably fail to help him at some point in the future, even he senses that, and the guilt will come crashing back with a vengeance, but for now it seems to be doing the trick. And keeping busy definitely hasn't hurt.)
As he sees it, he has a job to do, far less onerous than usual, and one that might allow him to help dig himself out of his hole.
Just a bit.
And if it costs snide little Hufflepuffs points in the process, all the better. It makes it all the more likely he'll be able to convince some of the others to help that way. Not that the rest of the House seems to be interested in cooperating with the seventh years... Still, sixty points and a detention, it wasn't a bad result. And it should get the other seventh years on board.
Hermione tries to break the awkward silence. Somehow this had worked rather well yesterday, and she has no idea why things are so strained today. Experimentally, she asks Nott, "So did you do any more research on the compounding of spells for a Transfiguration?"
"Uh, no. I..." It's one thing to walk with her. That serves a purpose. It's another altogether to casually chat with one another as though he were a decent human being, which he's clearly not. "I... Uh..." Theo just can't maintain the facade and begins to stammer.
Draco recognises that before Hermione can and continues for his friend, "He wasn't very productive last night." A bit grimly he adds, "None of us were."
The arrangement really isn't working. Theo's jumpy as a box of the Frog Choirs' toads and looks ripe to collapse. Draco can see beads of sweat forming on Nott's brow from the strain of the Muggle-born's proximity. So far, she seems largely unaware of the extent of her effect on the boy. Draco would like to keep it that way.
Accepting Theo is unlikely to rally sufficiently, at least no time soon, Draco finally moves between the brunet and Granger, careful to stay slightly in front of the witch and to keep his hands visible as he leads the way to the greenhouses. He even carries his books in his left hand so she can clearly see his right arm. Naturally that has the advantage of leaving his wand arm free, and he has no doubt that will have occurred to her. On the other hand, considering some of the witch's recent troubles with the Weasel, it might be prudent to have it unencumbered, although he doubts that thought will have occurred to her as well.
Moggies. They simply aren't tacticians.
When they reach the doors, Daphne and Tracey are waiting for them again.
As the girls are largely ignoring the boys, the boys are pretending not to notice and Theo is keeping his distance from... everyone, Draco leads, and Hermione soon is once again flanked by Tracey and Daphne (Hi, Hermione!). Theo trails behind, thinking if he needs to act as a human shield, it's only fair. His ego functioning as it is of late, he has a sneaking suspicion that's all he's good for anyway.
Conversationally - she simply isn't built for all this tension - Daphne asks Tracey how Divination was. (Where could the harm possibly be in that?)
Before the blonde can answer, Hermione looks at Davis in shock, her Exploding Snap face needing (much) work, and half gasps, "You're taking Divination?"
Quite typically, the judgment in her tone is clear.
Tracey is about to explain, all she manages to get out is "Of course..." and she already sounds terribly defensive. Daph's lived with her for over six years now, she knows the girl well, and there is no way that tone ends in anything less than a drawing of wands. (Generally Millie's or Alberta's, but still.) Deciding this was her fault, Daphne leaps into the conversational fray before it can escalate.
Um, again.
A bit too hastily to be natural, but it's easily forgiven, Daphne cuts Tracey off, asking, "Oh, and did you get your brewing done?"
Divination momentarily forgotten, Hermione, naturally, is instantly curious. And more than a little envious. Her thoughts turn entirely to the class she's no longer taking and potions in general, sort of as Daph had hoped they might. "Why were you brewing?" She asks, more than a little longingly. And that tone does much to appease Tracey. "Was there an assignment?"
"For personal uses," Tracey shrugs, somewhat mollified but not completely at ease with the Gryffindor and unwilling to explain the situation with their Head and the Pain Relief. Either the Head takes the witch into his confidences and tells her of things like that or he doesn't, but Tracey is sure it isn't her place to keep the Moggie informed about the Infirmary's stores.
"You brew yourself? Outside of class?" There's a note of incredulity, but not, the Slytherins feel, disbelief. No, she believes Tracey and seems rather... impressed. Daph had hoped she might be. Or at the least: distracted. "That's not something you see much of in the Tower."
"Oh, it was nothing experimental," Tracey dismisses it, a little uncomfortable with the way Granger-Snape seems to be looking at her now.
"This time," Daphne interjects with a broad smile. "She's greatly improved Pepper-Up," she reveals cheerily, not the least bit hesitant to provide the information. That's just another trait on the lengthy list of reasons she's not the typical Snake.
"Is that what you want to do later on? Professionally?" Hermione is genuinely interested. If the world doesn't go to hell in a hand basket - and it's always nice to hope - it makes sense to prepare for the future. The only people she knows talking about it at all, beyond Neville and Luna, seem to have a vague idea of joining the D.M.L.E. as Aurors, without really knowing what that means. Or playing Professional Quidditch, which seems... statistically improbable.
Naturally, she's kept that analysis to herself.
Well... Sometimes.
And while she's on the topic, she can't begin to explain how such a small community as Wizarding Britain can support so many professional sports teams.
Or Ministry officials, for that matter.
"No, actually, but as you should well know, as Professor Snape always says, it's good not to have to rely on others for things you can easily brew yourself," Tracey replies. She blinks, deliberately and just a mite smugly, punctuating the statement and waiting for Hermione to speak. Mentioning the unwanted bondmate was an inflammatory move, and she knows she can be a bit of an arse sometimes... The thing is, she is a little frustrated by how often she's had to hide her accomplishments over the years. And frankly Granger-Snape's jibe about Divination had gotten to her.
Possibly she felt, just a little, like taking a swipe back.
But Hermione doesn't answer. Personally, she's thinking how the Professor discouraged most of her House from brewing ever, unless absolutely necessary, advising them to seek a qualified Potioneer's work instead. Of course, considering what Neville tended to make of a potion, there was perhaps something to be said for that advice...
The longer she doesn't respond, the sorrier Tracey begins to feel.
This doesn't come naturally to her, she's not gregarious like Daphne, but she finds herself explaining now after all in an effort to make up for the taunt.
"I'm hoping to find an apprenticeship with a good Arithmancer on the continent after graduation. That's why I'm taking Divination, by the way, and Astrology, too." Hermione looks baffled, because that really doesn't explain it at all as far as she's concerned. "A lot of the more traditional institutions still view Arithmancy with some suspicion. They consider it a new fad, and don't quite trust to it."
"New? It's been around for centuries."
"Which is how many life spans? Things don't change quickly here. It's a young discipline by wizarding terms. But it's helpful if you understand the traditional studies and can convey why the newer approach is better. So instead of just presenting the Arithmantic results, you back them up with Astrology and Divination and suddenly you have fewer detractors."
"And that's worth wasting two N.E.W.T. preparations for? Because you still have to do the work for those courses, and that's something else you aren't learning instead?" But the question sounds more curious than confrontational now, and instead of being affronted, Tracey gives her a serious reply.
"If you present the results of your oh so carefully researched Arithmancy problem in Professor Vector's class in Spanish, what happens?"
"Not much, I don't speak Spanish," Hermione answers with a soft snort, and Tracey is surprised to find they're... kidding around. She can kid with the best of them - well, probably - she's just not used to doing so with the witch next to her.
"German?" She asks. Hermione shakes her head.
"French then?" Tracey is happy to joke about this if Granger-Snape is willing. Maybe. But she doesn't like to be outdone, and she can keep this up if the Moggie can. Possibly.
"What do they teach you Muggle-borns?" Daphne teases. She has no problems with this in the least.
"All sorts of perfectly silly things like science and maths," Hermione drawls, and there's a decidedly familiar note to it.
"There used to be more maths here, you know. Formal maths training outside of what you have in Transfiguration and Arithmancy. Not so long ago..." Daphne sounds almost wistful.
Hermione thinks she could possibly grow to like the girl.
"So by wizarding terms, what's that?"
"Oh, over a century now I'm sure." That just earns Daphne a raised eyebrow that looks suspiciously Snapeian.
"Well, full marks for consistency, I'll grant you that. So your point about presenting my results in French? And so we're clear, I'm not claiming my French is anywhere near adequate to the task."
"What sort of reception would you expect? What marks? Even if your French were absolutely perfect."
"Well, 'icy' and 'Troll', I suppose. It would go over like a lead balloon."
"Alchemy?" Daphne sounds confused.
Tracey hasn't the foggiest either, but she's more willing to ignore potential Muggle-raised idiosyncrasies as she's more mindful of not appearing too interested thanks to her blood status. Drly she quips, "Without a Wingardium Leviosa, I assume."
"It's an idiom," Hermione explains. "It makes more sense in the Muggle world, I imagine, where a lead balloon would be liable to sink like a stone."
"Then why wouldn't you just say that?" It's not a criticism, Daphne is genuinely curious. The fact Slytherins aren't often given the chance to interrogate the Muggle-raised has much to do with it. At least, not in such an innocent fashion, completely without the use of a Crucio, say.
Hermione is about to point out it's the same thing to a Muggle, but Tracey, ever cautious, brings them back to the original topic. "And why the 'Troll'?"
"Well, probably for being so pretentious," Hermione is grinning now. This is pleasant, and she's rather missed this sort of thing the past few days. Just... silly banter.
"How unexpectedly astute for a Gryffindor..." Tracey quips, but her smirk lacks bite.
"No one would understand it," Hermione answers seriously now. "There's no way it would be accepted as a result no matter how good the research or calculations were."
"And that's why I study Divination, so I can phrase things in the only language some people know."
Hermione thinks about it for a while. Tracey is right up there with her in marks and they're almost equally good in their classes. Honestly, the reason she hadn't considered her quite as good is that Tracey seemed to be taking fewer classes, or at least not some of the more challenging ones Hermione was. Tracey isn't in DADA or Ancient Runes, and Hermione had drawn her conclusions based on that. But apparently she's taking at least two others instead. It had never occurred to Hermione that someone with Tracey's rational turn of mind would be in Divination, and certainly not that she'd deliberately choose it over Ancient Runes.
The very notion seemed bonkers.
She can also sort of admit (to herself) that the fact Davis isn't a Prefect had weighed against her, although in the Tower they'd been sure Snape's, that is, the Professor's, pure-blood bias had led him to choose Parkinson instead. She's had some reason to re-evaluate that, and she should know that awarding someone the Prefect position didn't necessarily mean the student was stronger.
She's quietly confident she had deserved the Head Girl title instead of Padma, after all.
Hermione also knows from Harry that Professor Dumbledore had told him he'd have been his first choice for Prefect instead of Ron. There were extenuating circumstances that had driven that decision. Perhaps that was true of Davis and Parkinson as well.
Still, choosing to take Divination and subjecting oneself to Trelawney, Professor Trelawney, for all those years instead of a different, more valuable course... It's a concession Hermione wouldn't be prepared to make.
Daphne giggles. "Do you know, you can see your every thought on your face."
Tracey laughs, "She's even more transparent than you are. It's impressive."
Daphne nods, completely unoffended. "Divination!" She cries out in mock mortification, looking at Tracey.
"Trelawney!" Tracey responds, her tone equally teasing.
"The horror!" They chime in together, laughing. Hermione, rather strangely, notices she doesn't find it rude, and she's pretty sure that isn't even because of the Peace in her system.
"They made it easier for us though," Tracey continues her explanation once she's regained her composure, but there's a smile now as she goes on. "The choice is between Ancient Runes and Divination. It's not as though it were one of the core courses I'd have hated to miss." Hermione's expression shows her disagreement clearly. "Seriously, Madam Snape," and Hermione blinks at that, "what will you be doing with your Ancient Runes once you graduate? I highly doubt it will affect your career choice in the least."
"And yet Malfoy and Nott are both in that class with me," Hermione objects.
"Neither one of them will be pursuing a career in Arithmancy, so Divination wouldn't have done them any good. And I highly doubt they'll use their Runes knowledge either, but it looks nice on a CV. They didn't want the additional free period. We're at a slight disadvantage there."
There's something... off about that, but Hermione doesn't quite see it. It sounds a little bitter. Judging by Daphne's reaction, this is one of those things they consider an unpleasant fact, and an obvious one, but Hermione doesn't follow. She's coming to accept that they have some very different assessments of one and the same things to her own.
"What did you with the Pepper-Up?" She enquires instead, hoping to find more common ground.
"Val's cousin, Val..." Tracey begins.
"Valerie's cousin Val," Daphne corrects.
"They named two children in the same family 'Val'?" Hermione's disapproval is evident.
"Names tend to run in our families," Daphne is happy to clarify, every bit as willing to teach as she is to learn.
"That shouldn't prove confusing in the least." Hermione's limited exposure to her bondmate seems to be having an effect. "How do you keep them apart?"
"Context helps," Tracey answers wryly with a glance at Daphne who is pinking noticeably. It really is true the average Firstie has that better under control. "Valerie's cousin Val was prone to catching colds..."
"He caught them so well he should have been a Keeper," Daphne mutters, her face twisting noticeably, and Tracey shoots her an apologetic look Hermione can't quite follow.
"I gather you don't think so..." Hermione prompts.
"No," comes the atypically quiet reply. It would count as subdued from anyone, from Daphne it borders on aloof.
Hermione begins to ask about that when Tracey interrupts her, continuing her story, and the moment passes. "Val graduated last year. You may recall he also played on our Quidditch team?" Hermione shrugs somewhat noncommittally. Frankly, in their uniforms, they all look pretty much the same. "Well, you can see where the usual Pepper-Up would be a clear disadvantage on the pitch if it leaves you steaming for hours after."
Daphne perks up a little, "So Tracey worked on that, and she didn't stop until she'd reduced the steaming to under an hour."
"It was a case of diminishing returns. And I didn't think it was asking too much for him to get up an hour before he needed to play." Hermione takes Daphne's snort as agreement. "Reducing it any further was proving extremely difficult and the increase in the brewing time was exponential by the point I stopped experimenting with it."
"But an hour!" It's unheard of. This is a significant find. Sure, it won't revolutionise medicine, it's simply an improvement to an existing potion, but it really is a noteworthy one. They are literally discussing a cure for the common cold. She can only imagine what her parents would think.
"Under an hour," Daphne corrects with a proud smile. Tracey had done excellent work. If she won't boast of it, Daphne is happy to do it for her. Of course, that's all part of why everyone thinks she makes a piss poor Snake, but really, where else was she supposed to have gone? The immediate answer of 'Hufflepuff' calls to mind the unquestionably universal reactions to be expected were a Greengrass living in the sett. No, it had been out of the question.
"That's amazing!" Hermione sincerely means it, and it shows.
Tracey shrugs, a little uncomfortable once more. "I was gaining minutes at the cost of hours and the Arithmantical projection to take it any further yet was days. I'm not sure much more can be done, to be honest, not with the approach I was using. I think I got most of what I could out of it. You'd probably have to come at the problem from a whole different direction if you wanted to improve it further."
Not seeing any of that as a failing, quite the contrary, Hermione asks, "Have you reported your findings?"
"To whom?" Tracey replies. Both Slytherin witches look confused now.
"Well, with such a substantial improvement..." Hermione isn't sure exactly what to suggest, but it seems wrong to keep the knowledge contained only in the head of the white blonde next to her. "Even just to Professor Snape? He'd know what to do, maybe pass it along to the journals?"
It becomes clear that she doesn't quite know what she'd do with the information either, and that she hasn't grasped a vital dynamic that both Tracey and Professor Snape would have reason not to attract attention with a new Potion development at the present time, certainly under the current political conditions. It's one thing to be competent, it's quite another to be inventive. Tracey just shrugs. This, of course, was all part of why she's so frustrated, and so eager to get clear of the Isles, somewhere she might be able to perform as she can and get full credit for what she does.
Britain isn't a good place to be for an unconnected liberal half-blood like her.
Of course, it doesn't occur to her as she thinks it that's it's even a worse place for a Muggle-born like Madam Snape, or that the majority of them are - almost by definition - even less connected than she is.
Their conversation about Davis' potions experiment is just concluding as they reach the Herbology greenhouses, where two familiar faces have also just arrived, or perhaps were waiting at the door.
Harry's potentially neutral "'Mione?" coincides with Ron's "Seriously, 'Mione? Snape's journals?" And Hermione unfortunately no longer entertains the notion they might have been waiting for her, or at least not to do anything other than hassle her further. She's had rather enough of them for the moment.
Not coincidentally, Draco's, "Out of the way, Potter," immediately redirects their attention.
Just as the Moggies seem about to kick off (they're too easy, really, and Draco is just contemplating doing them as he'd done the Hufflepuffs), Professor Sprout interrupts, "Seats, please, everyone. No dawdling. We have much to cover today, and we didn't finish yesterday's lesson," the Herbologist looks a mite reproachfully at the Slytherins as she says it, but her words nevertheless seem to diffuse the situation.
Malfoy and Nott bodily block Harry and Ron, as Hermione slips behind their backs (and isn't it weird they allow it?) to take her customary seat by Neville. Greengrass... Daphne gives her a little wave as she and Davis take their usual seats somewhat further over.
"What was that about?" Neville leans in and whispers in her ear.
"Who knows anymore," Hermione answers, her patience with her friends wearing thin. Chastising herself for the negativity and looking at Neville, she corrects the thought: some of her friends. And then contemplatively she turns to look at Daphne who happens to notice her doing so and smiles back.
Warmly.
A/N:
Hope everyone has a safe and happy new year! 🍀
(no subject)
Date: 2019-04-07 08:20 pm (UTC)I love all of your characterizations, so it's no surprise that I really like Millie, who seems to constantly be trying to keep herself from swearing like a sailor.
And the fun just doesn't stop for old Vince and Gregory, does it? Madam Pomphrey will have loads of good goss for the staff room tonight. :D
I feel so bad for Theo, taking on all the guilt, when he is the least guilty. Tracy and Daphne are a delight and even Tracy seems to be warming up to Hermione a little bit. The Divination conversation was really interesting. It's kind of a good thing that Hermione wasn't planning the same career path, as I don't think that she would bend to Divination even if it were the best way to get ideas across to an old mindset. She'd march in with her calculations and her brutish bravery and try to win them over with sheer brilliance and would never understand why they won't listen to her.
Favorite bit: Hermione can't being to explain how such a small community as Wizarding Britain can support so many professional sports teams. LOL - I've wondered that myself! And why there doesn't seem to be more than four or five careers available...
(no subject)
Date: 2019-04-09 09:15 pm (UTC)I like Millie. She’s trying to make something of herself, but she’s so obsessive about it, you just know someone keeps riding her. Loyal, though, in a house that doesn’t value that nearly as much as being smart about it. That takes character. (No matter how much she swears.)
No, Vince may as well just take up residence in the Infirmary. It would save time. 😋
Well you know if this stuff is doing Theo’s head in, the Death Eater stuff will be even worse. He just wasn’t built for it. (Which is good, obviously, just not fortunate for him.) Tracey does better when she gets used to things. Daphne doesn’t need that as much as she’s always a bit off and ‘odd’ so there’s less need to worry about getting the lay of the land first.
Yeah, that’s Hermione in a nutshell. Not getting why it isn’t all just about being right. Tracey is a much better fit for something like that.
The only explanation I have for the careers (and lack of choices) is someone didn’t bother running the numbers when they were doing their world building. 😉
(no subject)
Date: 2020-02-19 03:26 am (UTC)Yes, that.
:D I'm skimming through trying to find where I left off ages ago!
(no subject)
Date: 2020-02-19 03:34 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2020-02-19 03:36 am (UTC)xoxoxo
(no subject)
Date: 2020-09-27 04:40 am (UTC)