"falling & soaring part 16" by gingerbred
Feb. 17th, 2024 06:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
christmasspiritchapter 16, slipping
Characters: Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall, Rubeus Hagrid, the Bloody Baron, Ginny Weasley, Seamus Finnigan, Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, Harper Hutchinson, Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, Daphne Greengrass, Theo Nott
18 September, 1998. Severus has mostly kept to himself this term, not that all the extra work Minerva had assigned him probably wouldn't have seen to it anyway, but what choice he has in the matter has led him to self-isolate. So this morning is quite the departure, and a largely pleasant one at that. Meanwhile Hermione tries Pansy's nerves, but the Slytherins know how to amuse themselves. Minerva and Argus are having rotten mornings, and Ginny and Seamus think they are too, but are probably lacking somewhat in perspective. Misery, it would seem, is at least passingly fond of company, and the new Headmistress is in a position to do something about it.
Originally Published: 2024-02-17 on LJ / DW
Words: 9.8 k
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Characters: Severus Snape (Deputy Headmaster, Head of Slytherin, Potions Professor), Minerva McGonagall (Headmistress), Rubeus Hagrid (Care of Magical Creatures Instructor), the Bloody Baron (Slytherin's House Ghost), Gryffindors: Harry Potter (8G, Captain, Seeker), Hermione Granger (8G, Head Girl), Seamus Finnigan (8G fiery Reserve Beater, long time friend of Lavender's), Ginny Weasley (7G, Chaser), Slytherins: Draco Malfoy (8S, Prefect, Captain, Seeker), Theo Nott (8S, Hestia's), Pansy Parkinson (8S, Prefect), Daphne Greengrass (8S, sparkly), Harper Hutchinson (7S, Prefect, Chaser)
Mentioned briefly: Staff: Neville Longbottom (newly minted Herbology Apprentice and Head of Gryffindor), Filius Flitwick (Head of Ravenclaw, Charms Professor), Pomona Sprout (Head of Hufflepuff, Herbology Professor), Poppy Pomfrey (Mediwitch extraordinaire), Rolanda Hooch (older but better, likely to take flight), Professor Peek (yet another DADA Professor of questionable worth), Argus Filch (Caretaker, Squib), Albus Dumbledore (one-time Headmaster and ex-Head of Gryffindor, deceased), Amycus Carrow (Death Eater, ex-Dark Arts instructor ('97-'98)), Alecto Carrow (Death Eater, ex-Muggle Studies instructor ('97-'98)), Gryffindors: Ron Weasley (8G, Prefect, Keeper), Dhanesh Devi (7G, wealthy pureblood, Muggle-born Kiera Kilkenny's boyfriend), Slytherins: Ella Wilkins (7S, Prefect with an interest in Healing Charms), Hestia Carrow (7S, Chaser, Lycanthrope attack survivor, Theo's somewhat rabid other half), Hunter Hutchinson (5S, Imp, Harper's little brother), Hufflepuffs: Ernie Macmillan (8H, Head Boy, DA), Justin Finch-Fletchley (8H, DA, Muggle-born), Susan Bones (8H, her aunt Amelia (Head of the DMLE) was killed by Death Eaters the summer before her sixth year), Hannah Abbott (7H, her mother was murdered by Death Eaters during her sixth year (HBP)), Ravenclaws: Luna Lovegood (7R), Others: portrait Albus Dumbledore (portrait of the one-time Headmaster and ex-Head of Gryffindor)
Previously:
The previouslies are very robust. If you've recently read the Christmas Spirit stories, skip them, if not, no worries, I've got you covered. You can find links to the individual stories / chapters in the "christmas spirit index" (LJ / DW / AO3).
12 September, 1998. A group of masked individuals attack Draco and Pansy, the 8th year Slytherin Prefects, as they make their rounds. S 02 Traumatised more from witnessing the attack on Pansy than by anything that happened to himself, Draco decides that her friendship with him might have been the motive for the attack and could be putting others at risk. He proceeds to avoid speaking to his Housemates in public in the hope it might keep them safe. (Ongoing)
12 - 13 September, 1998. Realising the Headmistress will likely need to restrict the students' privileges in the weeks to come in light of the attack on the Slytherin Prefects, while reporting said attacks Hermione does some hard and fast negotiating in the middle of the night with Minerva to get her to expand those same privileges for the eighth years. Many of them are finding it difficult to still be so restricted at their ages. S 04
13 September, 1998. In a misguided effort to reassure Pansy, Hermione tries convince the Slytherin that she needn't worry about the Ravenclaws or Hufflepuffs seated at their table. That goes swimmingly. S 05
17 September, 1998. Hermione and Harry decide to follow the Slytherins on patrol - to be on hand to provide backup, if necessary - which sounded fine right up until they're spotted by those Prefects. As they're understandably on edge, and the Moggies failed, completely, to make their intentions even remotely clear in advance, a scuffle ensues during which panicked seventh year Ella Wilkins performs a Bandaging Charm on Granger. It was perfectly acceptable, under other circumstances anyway, and then there was always the question of the sheer amount... S 11 - S 13 Ella is having a great deal more difficulty wrapping her head around the fact she'd done such a thing. S 13 - S 14
17 September, 1998. Having decided the Slytherin Prefects are very likely still at risk, a Disillusioned Severus follows them - and the two Gryffindors - on patrol. The Bloody Baron has arrived at similar conclusions and joins in as well, which is how Severus comes to learn the House ghost had been able to see through a Notice-Me-Not he'd cast. This leads some anxious testing of the Charm on a number of suits of armour, and in his preoccupation Severus unfortunately neglects to end the Spell. Despite his apprehensions, his Charm performs well enough for humans, lasting long enough to inadvertently cause two of his colleagues some extra work and frustration the following morning. S 14
18 September, 1998. Friday bright and early, Caretaker Argus Filch reports to Headmistress Minerva McGonagall that several suits of armour have been stolen. Her investigation reveals otherwise, naturally, but that doesn't spare her rude gestures from some of the armour in question in the process. Predictably, that does nothing to improve their moods. S 14
18 September, 1998. Dhanesh complains to his friends about the detention he received for swapping seats in the Great Hall. An oblique comment of Ron's on the subject has Ginny wondering just who is actually behind the new tables that everyone seems to hate. S 15
Friday, 18 September, 1998
Great HallSeverus has been avoiding the Great Hall as best he can and the faculty room almost entirely. That is to say last year he hadn't really the luxury of avoiding them, someone had needed to be there to keep the Carrows and their sympathisers from doing all too much harm, and although he'd often felt the need for Occlumency, had he ever, to preserve what little seemed left of his sanity, likewise he couldn't use it nearly as often as he'd have liked to for the same reasons his presence was required in the first place. After he'd killed Albus?
Things had been just splendid.
The result was the Great Hall in particular was now one of the most unpleasant locations in his experience, following closely on the heels of the Shrieking Shack and winning out comfortably over Minerva's office, which was saying something. Something decidedly impolite. The less time spent in the vicinity of Albus' portrait, the better. As things stand, Severus may yet add it to the inevitable bonfire when he burns his own, its availability to do so a hurdle he's quietly confident he can overcome when the need arises. Even after everything they've been through, the school is far from as secure as it should be, best practices are rarely, if ever, on the menu, and faculty by and large remain nearly wholly untactical.
Yes, well, as to that last count, cauldron meet kettle, eh?
He'd learnt very early in his career how beneficial it was to always appear unaffected, especially while dining, to arrive in a timely fashion and sit there, utterly and completely unperturbed throughout, perfectly composed, calmly partaking of the meal and sipping his tea while their toerag students called him a 'greasy git' and whatever else they could think of. With the constant brewing of late, that's likely only increased in direct correlation to the lankness of his hair; fortunately, students didn't prove all that original in general, neither then nor now. Small mercies. As a whole, the demonstratively stoic approach had reduced the overall abuse he was subjected to. That realisation had come soon enough, all those years ago, it wasn't so different to many of his experiences as a student, but it had still taken some time until he felt comfortable with the solution. He may be an exceedingly rational creature, but that isn't to say he doesn't feel things deeply, and that had been an irksome period fraught with tension until those feelings finally began to reflect what he knew. He credits his self discipline with sustaining him until then; very likely it exacerbated the cognitive dissonance as well as it governed his actions exclusively. Either way, it hadn't precisely been a robust solution. He suspects the turbulence of the time had made that adjustment, like all the rest, more difficult than need be. Would all turbulence were relegated to the past, but the similarities to the now are sometimes unnerving.
One thing definitely giving rise to some upheaval in the present, Minerva's manifold changes to the Potions curriculum have provided him with a host of excuses to be elsewhere, and he's made use of them. Liberally. He shouldn't. Once he starts, it becomes increasingly difficult to stop. He's tried a small variety of avoidance tactics. He's appeared early and left early, or late for the briefest of meals. Wolfing them won't do, too unseemly, so he doesn't do that too often; if necessary, he goes hungry instead. In that vein, sometimes, too frequently, he skips meals altogether. He prefers that solution most of all, obviously, although he should probably ask himself why he suffers the hunger pangs often as not instead of having his house elf bring him some food. That would likely require opening a tin of worms he'd prefer to leave well sealed, however. On some level, he suspects he still feels he deserves punishment as much as he internally rails against it.
No, thinking overmuch about that is also on his ever lengthening list of things to avoid.
He's aware enough of the pattern setting in to try to course correct, somewhat, to get himself to sit through the whole meal at least, even if he hedges the arrival and departure times more than most, but he'd frankly been avoidant already during the summer, and the arrival of the students has only made things that much worse. It was difficult to say how much of his initial absence had been dictated by his recuperation and how much by his desire to avoid his colleagues. Had he not still required regular care, he'd have gone home, but truthfully he was better protected at Hogwarts, far better, than there. He knows that, and he appreciates, somewhat, what that and Poppy's excellent minding had meant for his survival chances, but he still has little to no desire to spend anything beyond the bare minimum of time with his colleagues and to sit with them in their dining facilities least of all.
So today?
The most fun he's had in the Great Hall in ages, with the notable exception of the time he was able to render both Carrows unconscious without anyone noticing. (He's still rather proud of that.)
And how does this incredible departure from his usual routine come to pass? Well there's still the unresolved issue of testing his Notice-Me-Not...
Clearly there was never a chance, not in the slightest, he'd have asked anyone - living - for assistance on that front; he wouldn't dream of creating a vulnerability of that nature of his own volition, and he wouldn't blindly trust their input in any event. So the obvious answer - well, obvious to him anyway - unless he wished to make a protracted affair of it, and he most definitely did not, was to do something so absurd in front of as many witnesses as possible as to receive near immediate reliable feedback. And of course the lengthier the testing period - days, perhaps weeks; months were patently out of the question - the less reliable the results would become, that was part and parcel of the nature of Notice-Me-Nots. Once individual vigilance was heightened, communal vigilance invariably followed suit, and the testing conditions would no longer be consistent, the results scientifically worthless. That complicated things, no question, but if a side effect of his efforts should be that everyone is just a little more observant, that mite more wary? Frankly all the better. All considered, however, it was accurate to say properly balancing his trials within the parameters should prove a touch sticky...
That fact, that thought, may have helped inspire him.
Likewise Minerva's and Argus' absences - how unusual, but fortuitous - contributed each in their own way as he set about his experiment.
As he's reasons to doubt the Spell's efficacy - worse yet, his Spell's efficacy - it shouldn't be anything too compromising. That much was clear. Parading in his pyjama bottoms, robe and rather pleasing slippers through the Hall, or something equally silly? Completely out of the question. It should neither be a threat in and of itself, nor inspire any in the future, regardless whether this succeeds or goes pear shaped; accounting for the latter was especially knotty, but he likes a challenge. And of course the Charm shouldn't - necessarily - work if it was performed on anything too actively being sought. A Notice-Me-Not had never replaced the need for Disillusionment, and vice versa; they served different purposes. Had he Disillusioned his door instead prior to opening it last night, when he set out to follow the Prefects, that would have attracted far more attention than exiting, visible, in full sight of the students, taking the nearest corner and returning Disillusioned would have. If his tests here fail, he may yet need to resort to such methods or lurking Disillusioned in the corridors for his Slytherins to arrive.
His joy knows no bounds.
Logically, eminently, a Notice-Me-Not had been required and performed, and yet the Baron had seen right through his, and unfortunately Severus isn't certain the students wouldn't have as well had he only left his chambers immediately before they passed instead of waiting. Permanently muffled soles, a small assortment of Silencing Charms, and well lubricated hinges assured there'd been no sound to alert them, and none of them had happened to turn to face him... As was, he simply doesn't know if it would have worked on them and needs to.
The House ghost's ability to see the door may be a question of the Spell's threshold, which in and of itself was worth testing, although the spectre had assured him he hadn't been looking for his office's entrance. Another issue, obviously, was the moment whatever it was were noticed, it would begin to draw more and more attention, becoming actively sought and making that threshold difficult to sound with an appropriately large audience. Assuming a sufficiently strong response, anyway, which was what Severus felt was required here.
So: sticky.
At this point, apropos of nothing, it's worth remarking that he doesn't dislike Hagrid. In fact, quite to the contrary, compared to the rest of staff, he rather prefers the half-giant. Always has. Hagrid was simple, there was no arguing that, or that he represented a nearly unparalleled hazard at the school, granted, but - generally speaking - he was a man of much heart and loyalty, had a great passion for his work, an abiding need to experiment and push the status quo in his field, and little respect for Ministry laws he found arbitrarily limiting in that regard. All qualities Severus appreciates, sincerely. Hagrid was also considerate and typically kind, traits frankly too rare, and more personally, he treated Severus with respect, particularly in front of the students. That last had been a somewhat amorphous distinction that had gone undefined for the Potions master for years, until it had crystallised for him once Lupin had joined faculty and had had no compunction about slagging him off to all and sundry given the slightest opportunity. Cheers. And that after all the brewing Severus had done for him? Ta muchly. No, once viewed in contrast, the unusualness of Hagrid's conduct became far more perceptible. Minerva, for example, might, and it wasn't given, penalise students for being disrespectful vis-à-vis other faculty, only to emphasise it was a question of proper behaviour while sometimes hinting the sentiment might actually be justified. In Dolores' case? Amply fair. In his? Duly noted. And he isn't at all certain that has changed.
Also noted.
Plenty of other things have changed, however. Presently Severus finds people fall into one of three new categories: those who apologise, even silently - he can tell - for ever having distrusted him last year, those who continue to distrust him even now, and those who lie - to be fair, often also to themselves - that they always trusted him. He hates dealing with them most of all. Logic dictates there's a fourth category that he effectively never encounters, those who realise, however regrettably, that everyone had played the role required - obviously one more, the rest less deliberately - and carry on without much to do. Hagrid, of all people, came closest to that, and it did absolute wonders for Severus' nerves.
So again, there's no animus here.
For all his sterling qualities, however, Hagrid is one of the least curious individuals of the Potions master's acquaintance. That didn't extend to the half-giant's often illegal breeding programmes, obviously, but for the most part, that was where Hagrid's intellectual curiosity began and ended. He's not prone to questioning many things others almost definitely would. At the moment, that serves Severus' purposes well.
As does the man's unparalleled appetite.
It begins with a brief conversation with the Bloody Baron; suitably instructed, he's now on hand to supply the necessary feedback. Next Severus enters the Great Hall while under a Notice-Me-Not. As no one was particularly seeking him, that seems to succeed, or his presence wasn't remarkable, but that had been part of the issue and he hadn't been willing to compromise with anything too embarrassing; nevertheless the Charm was required so he'd be able to see what he was doing as things progressed. He congratulates himself on arriving before Minerva, not that anyone else likely cared, but he does try to keep a running tally. There is an aspect to her absence, however, unsupervised as they are, that helps fuel a spot of mischief.
'Have at it!' Shall he not?
The experiment truly starts with the syrup for Hagrid's first round of pancakes. When he sets the syrup boat down, Severus wandlessly - just in case - extends his Notice-Me-Not by a thin thread of invisible magic to include it and then, again wandlessly, Summons the syrup so it's placed between him and Minerva's empty seat to his immediate right. If it were still in front of the half-giant when he required it again, he would be far more likely to see through the Spell. Off to the side like this... If Hagrid doesn't look more than cursorily - hence the requirement of an incurious individual - the Charm should hold. Likewise, even if the objects Severus uses aren't being sought, the view they might come to obscure behind them very likely is, so placing them where no one was seated or in front of himself was practically a necessity. With Minerva elsewhere and their seats adjacent, he has a fair amount of space with which to work.
The movement provides the cue for the Bloody Baron where he floats unobtrusively, only barely visible off to the room's side. A salt cellar and the butter soon follow suit, each stacked upon the last, the angles non-trivially adventurous, but then that's what Sticking Charms were for. Each thing Hagrid uses joins the rest, almost as soon as he releases it - or as soon as the Baron glances away, at any rate - and in no time Severus has the foundation of a makeshift, ramshackle, effectively invisible tower. With each new article, the Baron holds up his fingers to represent the number and angle of the addition and then the total count of all the items. One syrup, one item. One salt cellar angled sharply to the left, two items in the rudimentary tower. One butter dish listing to the right, three items. If he can truly see through the Notice-Me-Not, he won't know it's really been applied, but the movement and agreed upon arrangement of the objects is all the prompt he needs.
Hagrid being Hagrid, he doesn't stop to wonder where his syrup has disappeared to when he prepares his next plate, which had been the point, he simply reaches for more, that reach and the willingness to employ it without hesitation also contributing factors here. It's truly nothing personal, he just has the biggest appetite, the longest arms, and the least reticence about grabbing as many syrups (or anything else) as it will take, possessing a nearly qualm-free approach to life, as it were. He's willing and able to draw on a sizeable supply and isn't too timid to ask for more should it run dry; meanwhile the house elves will dutifully keep providing more, so no one should think to question it. They're all too used to his appetite as well. Nurturing types like Poppy and Pomona will just keep passing him whatever his considerable stomach desires.
Soon the second syrup joins the tower, two ghostly fingers, followed by four. Severus Banishes the next butter dish after its inclusion in the growing Notice-Me-Not; when the Baron's gaze returns to the table, he smirks lifting first one finger and then again four. If he were unable to see through the Notice-Me-Not - highly unlikely at this point, but still: belts and braces - it would seem he's not just tallying the articles as they disappear. They continue in that fashion - a pot of tea, the sugar, the milk, more syrup, more butter, more salt, first one pot of jam, then another, yet more syrup, a communal plate of soldiers, another of rashers of bacon... Severus Summons a couple of those for himself to snack as he works, earning a creaky chuckle from the Baron as to how to count that; Severus isn't sure either and merely smirks in reply. He needs to reinforce the Sticking Charm at the base of his monstrosity as it briefly threatens to topple, perfectly reasonable, as it had taken on a not inconsiderable size.
And yet more follows.
Even more syrup, a second pot of tea, more sugar, more milk, still more syrup - some things added, some things Banished until they have a modern sculpture, a tower of Babel of genuinely impressive proportions stacked in front of the Potions master, syrup first dripping, then flowing as he builds. The milk, salt, sugar and tea follow suit, a Warming Charm soon has the butter flowing, too, all pooling now in swirls in an ever growing puddle on the floor in front of the High Table's dais. A stronger Warming Charm nearly boils the jams and they add some colourful touches as they join the rest, any guilt at the ridiculous mess he's causing alleviated by Argus' absence and the surety Severus can Vanish the lot before the man is forced to confront any of it.
Or so he thinks.
His attention now primarily on the Baron, his spectral fingers and the fragile tower Severus is building, trying not to lose track of the number of syrups and whatnot he's added to it, he misses Argus' and Minerva's arrival and is only very dimly and belatedly aware of their respective approaches.
To be fair, there was a bit of relatively spontaneous sculpture impeding his view.
Seamus makes a detour past Harry's and Hermione's table to thank the witch for the eighth years' expanded curfew privileges. No one really seems to know how she'd done it, but Harry had basically confirmed she'd been behind it, whatever it was she'd done, and they've all gotten sort of used to it now: somehow Hermione can do things none of the rest of them could. Seamus isn't sure how he feels about that as a whole, he really isn't, being Head Girl alone shouldn't justify that kind of influence, and it probably wasn't fair that McGonagall showed that sort of favouritism either, but at the moment, this particular accomplishment of hers works in his favour, and it would be rude not to acknowledge it.
So yeah.
"Thanks, Hermione," he chirps. More isn't really needed, and she pretty much shrugs it off anyhow, alright then, so he doesn't see the point to expressing that in more detail. Whatever. It was just as well. He wasn't all too sure what he wanted to say to her anyroad.
He'd been out with a seventh year Hufflepuff the previous night. Things weren't too serious between them, nor had they been out too late, as far as curfew went; it was a school night after all. More likely more relevantly, as a seventh year she didn't enjoy the same privileges he did, the contrast helping him to appreciate them a little more - ta, Hermione - and he'd seen the 'Puff home in a timely fashion and then returned to the Gryffindor tower himself. He thinks that helped make a good impression, sort of gentlemanly, right? Things were coming along nicely, and he fancies his chances with her in the nearish future. It didn't hurt that she'd seemed impressed by his role in the Battle, his proclivity for pyrotechnics, and he knows how to capitalise on that. He isn't an idiot.
Mission accomplished, he continues on to his seat, taking it just in time for things to kick off with the Headmistress, a fact he'll soon come to regret.
Hermione is pretty sure she knows what the 'thanks' were for and still hasn't figured out what to reply. It's not so much that she's unappreciative as awkward, although by tomorrow she'll probably come to wish she hadn't taken the praise quite so terribly for granted. There'd been some of that all week - a 'thanks' here, some 'well done, you's there - slowly petering off now, she supposes, because it was only the eighth years who'd had any benefit from her negotiations with Professor McGonagall. Eventually the individuals inclined to thank her will have all done so, and the rest weren't likely to in any event...
Case in point, Seamus' interruption makes Parkinson snort derisively. Yeah, Hermione can kind of see how that might look. His timing wasn't great. Harry's distracted, thinking about something or another and checking other tables, almost as though he's noticed them for the first time since start of term. She doesn't bother asking; he'll tell her when he's ready, or not at all. Asking doesn't really change that too much between them. As for the rest... Malfoy rarely speaks, so nothing new from that quarter. Ginny hasn't put in an appearance yet, and Luna was talking about something or another with the other Ravenclaws - things are a little different now that the seventh and eighth years share the same classes. And so, wisely or not, probably the latter, Hermione had resumed her sporadic efforts to reach Parkinson, to try to demonstrate how the Slytherin needn't face her problems alone. Because that had worked so well the last time when she'd tried to convince her the boys at the table were trustworthy. Yes, well. Hermione doesn't learn all lessons quickly.
Labouring under the mistaken impression that they'd achieved an understanding worth the mention last night, Hermione keeps trying a variety of tacks that only succeed in annoying Pansy more. She doesn't like the Moggie's overly solicitous nature, she doesn't owe her her friendship just because some arseholes had attacked her and the Moggie was willing to... help?, and she's tired of worrying someone else will see the woman behaving oddly and draw the wrong - or worse, the right - conclusions off the back of this. She is not affected by the events of last Saturday night. Anyone who thinks otherwise can naff off, starting with the Head Moggie. Pansy can't help wondering if the girl can claim the same degree of composure with regard to things that had happened the night before. Ferula! Ferula! Ferula! Timber! And so Granger continues with her creepy concern, and Pansy keeps shrugging her off - that's apparently en vogue just now; all the cool witchards are doing it - riposting repeatedly with oblique quips about improperly applied Healing Charms that serve only to confuse most at the table.
Potter is the only other non-Slytherin present to know what Panse's on about, and ordinarily he might leap to Granger's defense, were every last ounce of his wanting brain power not required to look absently about the room, and while she's no clue what that's about, equally she doesn't hesitate to take advantage of the opening his distraction affords. Of course not, she isn't an idiot. The Weaselette hasn't shown, although she's not as reliable a defender as Potter... well, otherwise is. Not so much now obviously. And so Pansy digs, and needles, and tweaks Granger some more. Normally she'd enjoy it, but the Moggie, so stubbornly, refuses to rise to the bait.
It's really quite frustrating.
Draco, trapped as he is between the witches, trying to pretend he's elsewhere - and isn't it annoying that Potter's focus is proving better than his own - watches Granger work Panse's last nerve, while Pansy does her level best to return the favour. He's not sure what goal the Moggie is pursuing, but he can't help feeling this won't go the way Granger is thinking at all.
True enough, but then it doesn't exactly go the way he's thinking either. Not that he'd formulated it precisely, but by lunch everything is clearly wrong, and Karma exacts its price almost immediately for his spot of smugness.
Blast.
The caretaker is in a dreadful mood, so it's a day ending in 'y' then. More unusually and significantly, Minerva is exceedingly late by her standards and her mood nearly equally bad. Both are glaring at the students, interestingly enough. Hmm. Argus takes his seat, and Minerva means to do so as well, but first she demonstratively threads her way between the new dining tables, part of her continuing efforts to emphasise how thoroughly on top of the dreadful new seating order she is, something Severus isn't convinced is true, or that if it were would be an achievement to be proud of, but then their mileage often varies. He imagines she's very likely regretting those decisions, but at this point, he doubts she has much choice left in the matter. Welcome to power. Uneasy is the head that possesses the Sorting Hat, and all that...
Her path leads her, as it must, inexorably to the area in front of the High Table, almost squarely in front of him, where she promptly slips - most fantastically - on the effectively invisible syrup pouring into the equally indistinguishable puddle she's soon lying in and which a Finite of hers almost immediately renders discernible.
Bugger.
Having spent a good bit of her morning Finite-ing Notice-Me-Nots that some of the students apparently deemed amusing to apply to far too many of the school's suits of armour, it was practically second nature at this point. Finite! Finite! Finite! as far as the eye could see, or couldn't see, as the case may be.
The unholy mess on the floor now visible, but inexplicable, she scans the area - Notice-Me-Nots never designed to withstand that manner of scrutiny - until she begins to make out an equally inexplicable sculpture of indignity on her table, right there, in front of her seat.
That will hardly be coincidence.
Once she begins to see the tower, she's soon able to see it clearly, and taking it all for a very deliberate provocation, rising, she shrieks, which definitely would have drawn Severus' attention had her flailing as she fell not already resoundingly done so. Bugger again.
It's a little late to Vanish the mess, obviously.
Off to the side, Argus has begun keening at the mere sight of it.
Yes. Hmm. It was impressive.
The Baron decides discretion is the better part of valour and sinks through the floor, cheers. Severus, unable to avail himself of similar options, simply ends his own inclusion in the Notice-Me-Not, fearing the alternative now that Minerva's randomly casting Finite and rightly thinking his sudden appearance is likely to go entirely unremarked given the, erm, distraction.
Yes.
Well.
His and Argus' was far from the only attention drawn.
Merlin's bloody beard.
Minerva, it transpires, can shriek quite loudly, aside from which the room goes deathly still for a moment, the smatterings of laughter her spectacular pratfall had given rise to... dying in assorted throats.
That, at least, was satisfying.
And then everyone begins trying to piece together what had taken place.
The result is - were one to ignore Minerva's role in it - almost everything Severus could have hoped for as a test of his Notice-Me-Not goes, so there's that as well. Thanks to her Finite, everyone could see the multicoloured marbled puddle of syrup, milk, melted butter, and jams spreading across the floor, and their attention is drawn to it by her screams. As its appearance is inexplicable, materialising, as it had, from nothing, it creates a fair amount of confusion, and it's fascinating to watch how, the students' attention now on the High Table, trying to comprehend the source of the mess, they begin to see through his Spell to see the precariously stuck together arrangement of breakfast table items arrayed between him and Minerva's seat. The phenomenon manifests exactly as he'd have expected, an intersection between intelligence, experience, logic and suspicion, those with the most of those qualities the quickest to see through his Charm; on the other end of the spectrum, a small handful who never do at all, bless. The more who see through the Notice-Me-Not, the surer the rest become that they should be able to do so as well, the numbers exponentially increasing. It's almost a wave, spreading through the Hall, and demands of 'What?' 'What happened?' yield to gasps, 'Oh!'s, 'What on earth?'s and a host of expressions less polite.
That was the issue when people came to over-rely on the Charm. It was fine until it wasn't, and then where did that leave you?
There had been a moment of apprehension that Minerva's Finite might cause the entire Spell to collapse altogether, but the untargeted parts of his now sprawling Charm had held, sufficiently that even he had had to look for his wild sculpture once he'd exited the field of magic. It hadn't taken him but a moment, and virtually no concentration, but then he'd had the advantage of looking for it specifically after all. It's possible the Notice-Me-Not's resilience in light of the Finite arose from the manner in which it had effectively been woven together over time instead of cast all at once, the Spell reinforced again and again, stretched, extended to include new items, those items drawn closer to the original mass and then placed somewhere else inside it, practically creating interleaving loops of magic... If it were visualised it would resemble a giant, highly complex knot. That, too, might be worth testing, but, um, looking at Minerva's face, distorted with rage, perhaps not any time soon...
In the end he's satisfied his Charm had worked as one might anticipate, at least on all the humans present. He'll need to find a way to test some of the other ghosts. The Notice-Me-Not's inadequacies with respect to the Baron could have something to do with the Baron's great age, or a Slytherin's innate tendency towards heightened caution. And of course he's seen some things over the centuries...
Minerva assumes, knows, the tacky mess is calculated, not that it was a good plan or at all likely to have been meant for her specifically, that was absurd and rotten happenstance, of that she is certain. Most likely the little idiots had simply intended to make yet more work for their poor Squib caretaker. Their motivation doesn't matter, however. Either way, she's absolutely had it this morning, and her robes are positively filthy.
Severus can't help thinking a Potions mistress would never have had that particular issue. The robes should have been Imperviused against absorption, but then that's Transfiguration faculty for you. How typical. Not that he should blame her for this... whatever... Obviously...
That was presumably beyond the pale.
Quite.
His Cleaning Charm sorts her robes before she can fully make it to her feet, Filius' Tergeo cleaning her hands almost immediately after. That was probably for the best. A Cleansing Charm would have sent her hair flying, undoubtably lending an inappropriately comedic note to the moment that was best foregone. Fleetingly Severus has to wonder if Filius had thought it wise to manage that aspect before the Potions master succumbed to his weaker impulses and did something too foolish. (Again.) He can just picture the nimbus of Minerva's otherwise so painstakingly arranged hair now...
Minerva finds it reassuring to know her colleagues have her back. Her morning feels like it's been a sheer unending series of irritations, but they haven't been things for which she could sensibly single anyone out for punishment. Letting this - all of this - go unaddressed, however, is a very bad idea. They are a mere three weeks into her first term as duly appointed Headmistress, and she is being sorely tested. Already she can envision what's likely in store for her when the Board of Governors arrives for inspection. She's not too wide of the mark either. When word of rudely gesturing armour makes the rounds, and how a few stragglers to breakfast had witnessed one flipping the bird at the Headmistress this morning, a number of students will become uncommonly inspired to work on developing heretofore unheard of Jinxes to great, if not universal, amusement.
Unfortunately the portraits don't seem to have seen anything out of the ordinary last night, and armour quite obviously couldn't speak. Shy of performing Prior Incantato on every last one of the students' wands, assuming they'd actually used them for the Notice-Me-Nots and didn't have spares squirrelled away... Starting with the Ravenclaws would probably narrow things down, though, but the Spell in and of itself still wouldn't be proof of guilt and she fears too many of her own House may have had a hand in this as well. There were the Slytherins' attackers to consider, mostly Ravenclaws, one Gryffindor, one Hufflepuff, and the first two groups had proven the most willing to flaunt her seating order.
This needs to end now.
She steps from the puddle, Tergeos from Poppy and Rolanda cleaning the floor and her shoes before her foot can even land, considerately eliminating any risk she might slip and fall, again, almost as though coordinated. There's much to be said for intelligent friends.
Unfortunately intelligence isn't a particularly common trait.
Professor Peek chooses that moment to join in by lifting the remaining Notice-Me-Not so the bizarre breakfast statue would no longer be hidden from anyone's view. Full marks for inclusiveness, were she grading, unfortunately the general purpose Finite required there is precisely the same as the one used for the Sticking Charm. There's no counterspell for either bit of magic, like a Reducio is paired with an Engorgio, nor a more esoteric and complicated form of Finite. Just the everyday, general purpose Finite... And so when he casts, not only does the installation appear on the table between Minerva' and Severus' seats, it immediately proceeds to become unstuck and collapse in on itself, plates and saucers, teapots, butter dishes, jam bowls, salt cellars and syrup boats flying in all directions.
Sensing the impending disaster almost as soon as their new DADA instructor twitches his wand, Severus has a choice, and to his credit he elects to cast his Protego to keep the mess from soaking Minerva. Again. His robes are properly Imperviused, after everything he went through in the past year and a half, being covered in assorted breakfast goods should hardly factor into his difficulties, and making a public spectacle (yet again) of the Headmistress will only make her job still more difficult. And of course there was the little matter of personal responsibility. Hmm. This is probably the least he can do at this point.
Gravity is a harsh mistress and a fraction of a second later, his Spell protecting Minerva cast, he's braced for impact when suddenly Filius' Protego materialises before him and shunts the falling debris onto his own Protego at Minerva's back. Between the two Shield Charms, they funnel the lot to the floor with a resounding crash. Severus nods his appreciation towards his diminutive colleague, Filius gifts him one of his cheery smiles in turn, confident together they'll soon have everything sorted. He isn't wrong. Nearly simultaneous Spells of Rolanda's, Poppy's and Pomona's Banish the mess to the Kitchens. Elves being what they are, typically they're in raptures.
The same can't be said for Minerva.
When she speaks, she sounds incredibly calm. Anyone believing that is an idiot of the first water, although there's at least one of those at the High Table alone. As soon as Minerva's clear of the mess, she turns to him, "Thank you, Professor Peek." He's a Ministry hire, and they'll not soon be shot of him, more's the pity. It's possible, although barely conceivable, that he's less competent than Lockhart. His ego, at least, is proving somewhat more manageable.
Facing the students once more, she proceeds to inform the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors at the nearest table - several of the usual suspects, and both the Notice-Me-Nots and Sticking Charms had required a clear line of sight - that they have detention with Hagrid that night. Their cries of protest are immediate, predictable, and quite possibly reasonable. It doesn't matter; furious, she remains unmoved.
Their little rebellion ends now.
The Lions and Turkeys at the table beside them begin protesting, too, and turning towards them with an icy smile, Minerva promptly orders them to join the first batch in the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid tonight. She doesn't need to repeat the sentence on a third table, the message clear, and the students - contrary to some expectations, not thoroughly benighted - fall silent. Admittedly that was a close run thing.
A few already had detention this evening; she may need to assign them a second one. No better time than the present.
Sorted.
Two of the girls caught up in this were definitely innocent, one of the Prefects very likely as well. How do they like to put it? 'Shite happens?'
Indeed.
Hopefully this will discourage the rest.
The supposed innocence of a second Prefect she rather doubts. It might yet pay dividends to examine his wand. She deliberates how much cause she'd need before she felt too much like Dolores employing such methods. Considering his typically smug expression, momentarily banished from his face in light of the extra detentions, how nice, she just might not care how strong the resemblance.
Neville blinks a bit owlishly at the Gryffindors at the table closest to him from his seat at the High Table beside Pomona. The tableware crash had finally spurred his Herbology mistress to action; she isn't exactly the quickest swish and flick, but even she had acted before he had. More accurately, he hadn't at all. He isn't sure if he even should have, to be honest, and the others had had it sorted in the end... It would have seemed such an overreach, almost insulting, as if he were suggesting staff weren't perfectly capable of managing, as they always had, without him.
And then there are, uh, his students. The Gryffindors. Should he have given them their detentions? But then Professor Flit... Filius hadn't given Ravenclaws theirs... Or should he sympathise with his erstwhile Housemates? Should he be standing up for them? Oof. There's a thought. Probably not a great one, considering how mad Professor McG... Minerva had seemed, but does he need to at least try to speak to her on their behalves, because it really had been rather arbitrary in the final analysis...
Somehow no one seems to feel the need to explain these things to him, and he's having difficulty puzzling it out on his own.
For all his misplaced guilt in some matters, Severus feels nary a pang at the moment. Primarily he has a sene of wariness that he'd best see to it Minerva never learns of his little experiment here. Or perhaps upon one or the other of their retirements... That might just do, although judging by her grimace, he is none too sure even of that at the moment. The Baron won't tell a soul about what they've done here or why; as the Slytherin House ghost, he's sworn to secrecy and fidelity, first and foremost to Severus. There had always been a bias in the House ghost's loyalties, Salazar had arranged that in his time, but Albus had helped see to that slight shift in allegiances before... Yes. Well. So aside from the ghost and armour that cannot speak, no one knows about Severus' discovery respective the Notice-Me-Not nor his series of tests. He imagines it'll be for the best if it's kept that way, and not merely for the obvious threat the vulnerability in the Perception Charm poses.
Without question, it helps that the majority of the students Minerva has just assigned detention to were proving royal pains in his arse this year. Not coincidentally their short lists of troublemakers are nearly identical; if Severus knew, he'd find it amusing how that's shifted now that she's Headmistress, responsible for the lot, and no longer just a Head of House. Her bent had never been anything like Albus' - whose had? - but it was non-trivial nevertheless. He'll never forget how she broke the school's rules to make Potter a Seeker as a firstie. That had contributed in a real way to many of the later problems with the boy, his sense of entitlement and insolence, his certainty rules didn't apply to him chief amongst them.
That may all be becoming a thing of the past, however. Remarkably, Potter's set managed to hold their tongues and escape the same punishments as the others seated at the front of the room. Severus would have never believed it had he not witnessed it with his own eyes. Even Miss Granger fails to comment on the unfairness of the highly arbitrary detentions Minerva had meted out - certainly Severus knows, better than anyone, how undeserved they were - but he suspects their new Headmistress has won some sympathy in that quarter with the equally new seating arrangements. Head Boy Ernie Macmillan, more a follower than a leader by any metric, says nothing when the others don't; Miss Abbott, Miss Bones and Finch-Fletchley are even less given to muppetting. Hufflepuffs are so often undervalued... Most likely it all comes down to Miss Weasley's absence. Having taught the young woman for four years, he's confident: were she here, the result would be different. Small favours.
After Potter's and Miss Granger's assistance with his and Draco's cases before the Wizengamot last summer, he doesn't begrudge them the spot of luck. On the contrary, had they also unjustly been on the receiving end of Minerva's ire, Severus' guilt reflex might have actually kicked in.
Just a little.
Pansy leans forward to stage whisper to Granger at a volume at least half the table can hear, "I'll bet a Ferula could have been used to wipe that mess right up," she nods her head in the direction of the now Vanished spill, smiling innocently.
Susan's nose wrinkled in confusion, she asks Hannah, "Why would you use bandages for that?" Hannah hasn't a clue either, preferring a Tergeo in a pinch, and Justin and Ernie aren't able to offer any other suggestions when they turn to them, except maybe a Depulso. Aguamenti, they're agreed, seems like it would just make things worse... But a Ferula? Parkinson always was overrated. She probably shouldn't have been the Slytherin girls' Prefect for her year, and she definitely shouldn't have been the Head Girl last year. Things like this just proved it.
That settled, they recommence whispering about the probability that no Snakes had been involved in the assault on the Headmistress - slim! surely - while congratulating themselves that Hufflepuffs, as always, were above reproach.
Well, usually.
Harper looks at Pansy appraisingly, wondering if quips like that are advantageous or not. Probably not, going off Granger's expression, and thanks to the, uh, Headmistress' interruption - and wouldn't he like to know who was behind that; it bordered on a wonder McGonagall hadn't doled out detentions to the Slytherins at his table instead - Potter finally seems to have registered what's going on around him. So more definitely 'no'. More importantly, however, referencing the Ferula might help Ella, though, not that she's here for it just now, but she'd squeaked the instant she saw Granger this morning and then made a mad dash for her own table. At a guess, Hunter hadn't been able to bring himself to commence with Operation Desensitisation this morning as promised, and it was likely going to be an uphill battle to help her get over this. So she Hexed the Head Girl. It, um... happens. Well, not often, but it was an honest mistake. Unfortunately Hunter was just too kind-hearted, too fond of Ella, and unlike Harper, he wouldn't have to witness their friend struggling with the mere sight of Granger in all her classes today. It should be nothing less than painful just to watch. So the occasional assist from Pansy probably won't go amiss, if she moderates herself, that is. They can hardly afford to make things worse...
Harper's only just resolved not to say anything to Panse about her snark when Daphne chides her instead. Figures. Obviously she knows Granger had, uh, tried to help them last night, so she does have a point, no argument there. A meaningful clearing of her throat, or two - Nott's busy making doe eyes again at Hestia a few tables over - and Theo finally takes the hint and performs his patented Notice-Me-Nott. Harper hastens to supply the Slytherin House Privacy Charm, wandlessly and all, right after. Daphne could be a little more impressed, but she's too busy trying to talk some sense into Panse. Best of luck. Frankly the others can't imagine where she gets her optimism from.
Draco appreciates the respite, however, and soon the group begins bickering and teasing amongst themselves. Now that there's no danger of being overheard or observed, he doesn't need to sit there pretending to ignore them, and Pansy is free to get everything out of her system - well maybe not everything, it was quite a lot, but some, and it helps - without any potential ramifications from Granger taking something the wrong way. To be fair, the Moggie appeared frightfully determined not to. That hadn't seemed to improve Pansy's mood, though. Draco gets that.
The little interlude is fun, and the blond is smiling before too long. He misses this. He's missed it for years now; he feels robbed he can't enjoy it now when he'd finally have a chance to. Pansy knows how to make him laugh, too. She takes the syrup she'd been holding when Theo cast his Charm and that had inadvertently been included in their Notice-Me-Nott and with a Wingardum Leviosa of her own sends the boat sailing over Granger's and Potter's heads as they sit there, obliviously chatting. She pretends she's going to pour the syrup first on one and then the other, to a small chorus of gasps and giggles, finally going so far as to actually do so only for the other four, strong students all, to catch it in Protegos. Great minds. Daphne lets out a squeak of her own as she casts hers, which might have one neglecting to notice only Draco had beat her to the draw. Professor Snape's self defense lessons over the years for the witches had paid dividends.
They're still trying to work out whose Protego had actually caught the syrup and how to pour it back into the syrup boat when Harper shakes his head and Vanishes the lot.
"You mob are as bad as the 'Puffs."
Well he's not wrong.
Fortified by a good chuckle, Draco feels ready to face his day. It's a pity moments like this can't last.
Seamus just sits there, staring into space, wondering how the hell he'd gotten detention just for appearing at breakfast. All he'd done is take his seat, and BAM! The next thing he knows, he's got detention tonight in the Forbidden Forest. Dhanesh should be thrilled for the extra company... What that actual fuck? And he'd plans with that cute Hufflepuff, too.
Bugger.
Some days it's barely worth getting out of bed.
Minerva walks around the High Table, pausing when she reaches Hagrid's seat to lean forward and speak to him briefly about the extra work she's just made for him tonight to the tune of nearly a dozen extra students. He seems every bit as resigned to it as Severus is when it's his turn. They're all rather used to it by now, and protest seems futile.
"The extra bodies, will they present a problem?" She at least thinks to ask. She probably likes Hagrid more than him.
"No, Perfesser. We'll manage," the half-giant assures her almost solemnly.
"What I said before? About making sure they wouldn't want to serve another detention after this one?" He nods. He wasn't likely to forget. "Make it a Duo, a Maximo, a Trio!" She hisses. He takes her meaning immediately, he just isn't entirely sure how to interpret that into the empirical. Would Blast-Ended Skrewts be a bridge too far? How about Sphinxes? He's fairly certain he could still find the one... He's also on very good terms with some Dragonkeepers, but that may not be of any use by this evening. He's on a Tempus...
"If you need help, let me know," Minerva continues, her tone returning to normal, as if there were no cause for alarm here. None whatsoever... "I'll be happy to speak to Firenze for you and see if he can arrange something if necessary..." The offer is polite, but Hagrid is at least as capable of speaking to Firenze as she is, and her suggestion ignores the unenviable centaur's poor standing amongst his people. Most humans tend to overlook the significance of things like that, what it means to be without his herd. Hagrid has no need to point that out to her, however, he merely sits there continuing his attempts to translate her wishes into what they might mean in practical applications.
Skrewts seem likely.
Or he'll get creative, either on his own or maybe with Firenze's help after all.
He's still mulling it over as Minerva takes her seat, smiling at the others more warmly now, and thanking her friends for their assistance. Rolanda just gives her a wink in reply. Cheeky thing.
Yes, it's good to know they had her back, very literally, as was.
Further down the table Professor Peek sits congratulating himself. The abslolute halfwit. Severus would find she's being generous there. As a group, they do their best to ignore him.
Much like any other day, in fact.
Ginny stalks purposefully through the corridors, her anger plain for all to see, not that anyone was left to do so. She's ridiculously late to the meal.
Further interrogation of Ron had only demonstrated he didn't know much, which... The jokes practically write themselves. Anyone less partial might enquire, if she's so much brighter, why it had taken her quite so long to arrive at that conclusion. She's couching it as 'thoroughness', yeah, but even she knows that isn't exactly true, is it? She's spent enough time with truly superior minds to know hers is no more one than Ron's.
She really misses Fred.
Pretty much always, in fact.
There are moments, like now, especially when she's just argued with Ron, yet again, when she can't help thinking the wrong brother had survived. That's not to say she wouldn't feel wretched, utterly and completely, if anything ever happened to him, of course she would, and she knows it's terribly unfair of her, but that doesn't mean she can help her feelings. She just sort of feels them, doesn't she? That's sort of the whole point of them.
To be fair, Ron tends to agree with her about Fred's death. Almost everyone in the family has had the thought at some point or another, only most don't direct it towards themselves. George does, naturally, but in his case it's all about love and a willingness to self-sacrifice. With Ron those unbidden, intrusive thoughts are more about insecurity. Every now and again, he and Percy prove to have more in common than either would suspect. It's a pity they aren't given to talking about such things with one another.
Or at all.
Suitably het up, she feels, Ginny continues her stalking, grumbling to herself as she goes. Why on earth did Hermione need to insert herself into the issues of the seating? They've done this for like a thousand years, yeah? Or at least Ginny assumes they have, she's no more bothered to actually look it up in 'Hogwarts: a History' or anything than her brother had. She could always ask Hermione, but... Yeah, maybe not on this score.
And here the Muggle-born-come-lately needs to go and reform everything.
It's kind of insulting. The gall. The sense of entitlement!
Wow.
By the time she gets to her seat at breakfast, she frankly can't think of anything to say to bushy haired girl that won't kick off a right barney. Well, as they say, some things are best left unsaid, and at the moment that seems to be most of them.
And everyone is in a complete... tizzy or something, so, ignoring her friend - sometime friend, whatever - she turns to Luna who fills her in on what transpired without her even needing to ask. Hagrid and Nargles; McGonagall, syrup, Wrackspurts and detention. Eventually you kind of get used to making your own sense of it. Anyway, Ginny thinks she gets the picture, sort of, and is even more annoyed she'd missed it.
Good egg, though, Luna. Hermione probably would have just lectured her about being late to the meal.
Written with oodles of love for lostangelsoul3 and
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Date: 2024-02-18 09:41 pm (UTC)