christmasspirit | "soaring part 5" by gingerbred (Reply)

chapter 05 avoidance

Characters: Harry Potter / Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Minerva McGonagall, Phineas Nigellus Black, Severus Snape, the Fat Lady

13 September, 1998. Harry, Hermione, Phineas and Minerva aren't looking forward to any of the conversations they're likely to have. Some prove more avoidant than others.

Originally Published: 2023-06-23 on LJ / DW
Words: 7.8 k
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Characters: Harry Potter (8G, Captain, Seeker), Hermione Granger (8G, Head Girl), portrait Phineas Nigellus Black (portrait of the one-time Headmaster and ex-Head of Slytherin), Minerva McGonagall (Headmistress), Draco Malfoy (8S, Prefect, Captain, Seeker), Pansy Parkinson (8S, Prefect), Severus Snape (Head of Slytherin and Deputy Headmaster), the Fat Lady (Gryffindor's guardian portrait)

Mentioned briefly: Staff: portrait Albus Dumbledore (portrait of the one-time Headmaster and ex-Head of Gryffindor), portrait Dilys Derwent (portrait of the one-time Headmistress and Healer), the Bloody Baron (the Slytherin house ghost), Filius Flitwick (Head of Ravenclaw, Charms Professor), Gryffindors: Ron Weasley (8G, Prefect, Keeper), Ginny Weasley (7G, Chaser), Slytherins: Theo Nott (8S, Hestia's), Daphne Greengrass (8S), Millicent 'Millie' Bulstrode (8S, Reserve Beater), Harper Hutchinson (7S, Prefect, Chaser), Ella Wilkins (7S, Prefect with an interest in Healing Charms), Roísín Rosier (7S, handy with beauty Charms), Tomasina Touchstone (6S, Prefect, Potions savvy heiress) Ravenclaws: Terry Boot (8R, DA), Morag MacDougal (8R), Hufflepuffs: Ernie Macmillan (8H, Head Boy, DA), Justin Finch-Fletchley (8H, DA), Susan Bones (8H), Zacharias Smith (7H, Chaser), Others: Madam Bulstrode (mother of Millicent Bulstrode 8S, Beauxbatons graduate), Sophie Soucie (Beauxbatons graduate, ex-Alchemy Professor), Maximilian von Klinger (Durmstrang graduate, ex-DADA instructor)

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 - 13 September, 1998. A group of masked individuals attack Draco and Pansy, the 8th year Slytherin Prefects, as they make their rounds. Harry and Ron, coincidentally in the vicinity due to some late night mischief of their own, come to their rescue. S 02 Concerned for her safety, Harry wakes Hermione to inform her that one of the attackers was apparently a Gryffindor, and that he isn't at all certain they wouldn't have sexually assaulted Parkinson had they not happened upon them. 'Mione makes it clear that they'll have to report this to Professor McGonagall, which they do, although Harry is good enough to (try to) keep Ron out of it. His clumsy use of pronouns leaves little doubt in anyone's mind that he hadn't been alone. S 03 & S 04

13 September, 1998. Harry informs the Headmistress that Draco's Domum Revelio Spell (performed S 02) seems to have proven eight Ravenclaws, one Gryffindor and one Hufflepuff had attacked the two Slytherin Prefects. Or not, depending on how the magic actually works. Hermione trusts it sufficiently to proactively take fifty points per potential perpetrator, or maybe she's just that incensed at the very idea of the assault. Minerva, a witch of some experience, is logically less hasty. S 03 & S 04

Autumn term, 1998. With not some little inspiration from Hermione, Minerva bucks a millennium of tradition and banishes the House tables from the Great Hall, replacing them with a number of far smaller round tables with mixed House seating for a stonking fifteen people. (Not remotely the solution Hermione would have advocated.) They are universally loathed, particularly this early in the term, and often challenged, by none so much as the Ravenclaws who are applying a good deal more system to their approach than the haphazard anarchy of the Gryffindors. The Slytherins, largely too accustomed to being on assorted watchlists at present anyway, are far more guarded in their seat swapping, willing to let the Ravenclaws serve as their Snidgets in a coal mine, and naturally the Hufflepuffs as a whole tend to chafe less when confronted with new rules. As chaotic as it's been, if Hermione hadn't made the damage the seating had caused so abundantly clear, Minerva probably would have thrown in a Tergeo long ago. Zacharias Smith, desperately eager not to be forced to sit with Granger all year, engages in one of the very first seat swaps with Harper Hutchinson at the Sorting Feast. CS, H(E)FDoS

Sunday, 13 September, 1998

Headmistress' Office

The portrait of Dilys Derwent examines Phineas Nigellus out of the corner of her eye, deciding he's clearly dyspeptic. There's some irony that he of all the one time Headmasters should have had himself painted without the potions that had been his stock in trade, a Touchstone's Tummy Toughening Tonic certainly wouldn't go amiss here. Phineas was hardly fool enough to have forgone access to that sort of advantage, he simply hadn't had the potions prominently displayed in his official portrait, but then it was scarcely the only one either. At any rate, a Touchstone's Triple T certainly isn't required at the moment, what the Healer takes for an upset stomach is the discomfort the Geas of Service causes when it begins to force Phineas to act, and of course he isn't the least bit pleased about that.

Minerva is gathering her notes and has resolved to go to the library first to ascertain they really are dealing with eight felonious Ravenclaws. There's little point in dragging Filius into this until she's sure, and of course four hundred points was rather a blow to the House. This early in the term, the thought occurs - and for which she feels fleetingly guilty when considering Miss Parkinson - it was also extremely disadvantageous to have removed that many. There was no recovering from a hit that severe, and with no hope in the slightest of winning the House Cup, in fact with an ignominious defeat all but guaranteed, staff will lose two of their most effective means of bringing unruly students to heel, point deductions themselves and the peer pressure students exert on one another to avoid them. Soon much of Ravenclaw will be acting out, that much was almost certain. More so than at present, even. She spares a thought for her seating plans.

Phineas can put this off some, he believes, but ultimately he'll be forced to speak up, the woman does rather have her hands full with all the changes at the school and her efforts to keep the Ministry off their backs, and rather predictably, she'll be less annoyed if he were to speak up now. A decision taken, he does just that, "You won't find it in the library, I'm afraid." Domum Revelio was a Slytherin House Charm, one that had been taught to generations of Prefects to better enable them to take points from other Houses, and likely why it had been developed in the first place. They were solemnly sworn to share it with no one, not even members of their own House. Phineas is more than passing curious to see how that Oath of his will stack against the one to serve the Headmasters and -mistresses of Hogwarts. This could get messy.

The only one who was permitted to teach the Charm - and then only to the Slytherin Prefects - was the Head of House, and their current Head rather notably hadn't done so since he'd begun in that capacity. As the Prefects themselves couldn't teach their successors, with time the Spell's very existence was now largely unknown. Phineas gathers Severus was able to pass it off as an issue that arose from never having been a Prefect himself; now, in the aftermath of the war - or rather, in the aftermath of the trials and their very public revelations - the portrait is more sure it stemmed from recognising the potential dangers in targeted spell casting that could conceivably be developed, were one so inclined, from a starting point of reliably identifying the Houses of all the members of a group. In that light, he'd found it more than passing strange that the Malfoy lad had known it at all when Potter told his story. Perhaps Horace had seen to it last year, but given the political... situation at the time, Phineas rather doubts it. It would have been exceedingly unwise.

"With proper testing, were it possible," the portrait chooses his words with great care, "I'm certain you'd find that the Spell only identifies the Houses of individuals who've previously been sorted, and doesn't do any actual sorting itself." That seemed to have been Minerva's primary concern, now suitably addressed, but providing even that much of an answer has left him with a few concerns of his own. Struggling somewhat to inhale, he gestures at the Sorting Hat on its perch, and making a stab at reason adds, "It's an entirely different class of magic. Scarcely something one might expect students to know, to say nothing of being able to perform it." Yes, there's plausible deniability in there, it's entirely possible one mightn't assume he knows that particular Charm. And coupled with disparaging remarks on students, it's very characteristic of the Slytherin. Nothing suspicious here in the least.

He imagines one or the other of his Oaths is causing the decidedly uncomfortable feeling in his chest.

Minerva is no one's fool. "And how might one test a Spell one doesn't even know?"

"If young Malfoy were unable to teach you the Spell - for whatever reason - conceivably he might still be willing to perform it for you... And I believe you can find at least two erstwhile Hogwarts professors in Hogsmeade who might prove useful." They'd be of uncommonly advanced years by now, but as one-time staff, they'd most likely also be more than willing to assist them if needed. "Maximilian von Klinger, to the best of my knowledge still a neighbour of Silvanus Kettleburn's, attended Durmstrang before he became our DADA instructor, and our Alchemy Professor, Sophie Soucie, was a graduate of Beauxbatons..." Dumbledore shakes his head sadly at that and Phineas begins to look concerned... "That is... The recent Troubles?" he asks, already dreading the answer. Albus' expression says it all. "I'm very sorry to hear that," Phineas adds, visibly moved. Fewer and fewer are left of the old guard. Damn and cast, and cast again. Riddle had caused more damage to the wizarding world than Muggles ever could...

He concentrates for a moment, mostly so as not to think of Sophie, and suggests, "Miss Bulstrode's mother is also an alumna of Beauxbatons, perhaps she'd be willing to cooperate." Not that Phineas necessarily follows that sort of thing quite that closely, although it's always relevant with an eye towards the future maintenance and potential expansion of the portrait coalition, but Madam Bulstrode's alma mater had been difficult to overlook. Poor Millicent had received a great deal of teasing that she hadn't inherited the grace and beauty from her mother that was typically associated with the institution. A late night conversation with the portraits in the Slytherin common room years prior had provided Miss Bulstrode with some suitable replies, mostly variants along the lines that that lack was undoubtedly what had left her 'stuck' at Hogwarts in the questionable and yet evidently appropriately graceless company of the individuals doing the teasing to begin with, and soon enough that - and perhaps a few well selected Hexes, it pays to be practical - had put an end to it. Phineas is quietly confident she'll be hanging portraits in her home in the years to come.

Minerva has learnt a thing or two over the years. She considers her reply nearly as carefully as Phineas had his suggestion, and then asks, "Assuming Mr. Malfoy, Maximilian and Madam Bulstrode were willing - and capable - of helping us, you feel confident the Spell wouldn't sort those two into a House?"

"Quite," he nods.

There were things said and more unsaid, and Minerva is fairly certain she understands what he is suggesting, there is, however, always the chance he'd deliberately mislead her. It's worth checking. "And you imagine it accurately portrays the Houses?" Phineas Nigellus looks exceedingly unwell, clearly isn't answering and she quickly rephrases, "It isn't just some fantastical conjuration with which Mr. Malfoy may have attempted to frame the Ravenclaws?"

"To what purpose?" He resumes breathing, or what passes for it, with some relief that nevertheless fails to completely mask his aggravation. Minerva could be unconscionably.... difficult on occasion. "The assault wasn't the Slytherins themselves, the Traces on their wands alone would have seen to that, disregarding the unlikelihood of Potter and... Potter or anyone else stumbling upon the scene to begin with." His slip is most assuredly less accidental than the Moggie's had been. Phineas still can't stomach the two classes of justice that prevail in the castle, and no amount of Tummy Tonic is likely to make it more palatable. "The Hufflepuffs? And so many of them, too? I'll grant you one or two, we've obviously the one at a rate, but eight? Or all ten? Seems highly unlikely. And what would be the advantage to deducting points from Ravenclaw instead of Gryffindor?" Minerva raises a brow at that, no more fond of aspersions cast upon her House than he is of those directed towards his, and he smiles knowingly, "Had they done it, naturally.

"No," he concludes. "I think we can be certain those would have been the Houses of the individuals involved, and they are either students or erstwhile students of these noble halls. And if entry from without the castle is impossible, we can narrow the pool of suspects further."

"Then I believe we can dispense with the testing. Thank you, Phineas Nigellus, that's saved me a good deal of time and effort." Headmaster Black appears a little uncomfortable with the openly expressed gratitude, which is easily half the reason she always makes a point of thanking him. She looks at all the portraits and asks, "Can anyone think of something we've overlooked, a way for someone to sneak onto campus?"

There was always a chance that some passageway was Unplottable, but the Headmstrs' Enchanted Map was still rather good with those, only the very strongest Fideliuses, the Chamber of Secrets and the Room of Requirement had had a chance, those Charms typically fade with time, and the portraits have the collected knowledge of the building of centuries. No, it was highly unlikely, and all other means of entrance had been stopped.

"If there had been," Dilys assures her confidently, "we'd have addressed it by now." The other portraits nod, except Albus who's back to feigning sleep. Minerva still hasn't forgiven him for overlooking the Vanishing Cabinet. Least said, soonest mended, he suspects. Of course it's a good deal easier to know the contents of the Room of Hidden Things once its entire inventory has been reduced to ashes, but the thought hasn't occurred to her and no one else has dared to mention it.

"Well then, there's nothing for it," Minerva's lips press to a fine line. "I imagine it's time to inform Filius." With a heavy sigh, she turns to her Floo.

Headmistress' Office, Severus' Office, dungeon corridor, Slytherin Common Room

Phineas is similarly pleased about what needs to be his next conversation, bugger it all, but it was equally unavoidable. Like it or not, he must report the events of the previous night to their Head of House, particularly as Minerva doesn't seem the least inclined to. How she expects the poor man to successfully discharge his duties as deputy Headmaster when he's kept permanently outside of the loop is a mystery to the portrait, or rather, he considers it solved: Severus is her deputy in name only, nothing but a figurehead. It doesn't seem to bother the Potions master too much, as near as Phineas can tell, although the man is so taciturn that that's often difficult, but the portrait is more than offended enough for the both of them.

So once again, it falls to him to ensure that the man is kept informed.

It's not simply that the portrait is sworn to help Severus, both professionally as Headmaster - he'll definitely always be that in Phineas' eyes - and Head of House, as well as personally aside from those positions. The man had been ridiculously careful about that; not willing to have his plans, his mission thwarted by a portrait, fair enough, he'd taken an Oath from him on that count last year. If anything, that caution paired with his obvious dedication had only caused him to rise in Phineas' esteem.

But he's not forced to act just yet. This isn't the Geas of Service, this is his choice. Perhaps because it is, a portrait of his now hangs within earshot of the Head.

Last autumn, Phineas and Albus had worked rather relentlessly on newly appointed Headmaster Snape until the man had finally conceded to having his portrait done. Phineas, every bit as driven as Albus and possibly then some, had worked Severus further, finally convincing him that it would be... advantageous to have Black take over some of the instruction of the Potions master's own portrait, a chore Severus seemed loathe to do - it was bad enough teaching students, teaching a painting was the height of absurdity - and for which last year he'd had precious little available time at any rate. Convinced as Snape was that he was unlikely to survive the year, time was of the essence for the task. Phineas had made himself so useful as a whole, in fact, that the end result had been that Severus had commissioned another small portrait of Headmaster Black when he'd had his own painted. Initially it had hung in the man's... home - Phineas had only narrowly avoided offending him on that count when he'd first seen it, he's sure - at Spinner's End, where he'd kept watch over Pettigrew and reported to the Headmaster on Voldemort's henchman's comings and goings.

While it certainly hadn't hurt Phineas' opinion of the man when Severus emerged from the past year with an Order of Merlin, First Class - sadly the only Slytherin to have acquitted themselves honourably, in fact, Avada Riddle and all the rest - and perhaps because it had been such a lonely year, a simply dreadful year characterised by much worry and isolation, Phineas fancied they were friends of a sort now. At any rate, when Severus had been released from the Infirmary last summer - that is, after his release from St. Mungo's, and prior to his official release from the clutches of the DMLE - when he'd fetched some of his most prized books from his home, unwilling to risk what might befall them if they remained there were he convicted, he'd collected Phineas' portrait as well, and now it hung in his office next to Severus' own where Black continued its tuition a good deal of the time.

Ostensibly as part of that instruction, but mostly for a bit of desperately needed variety - and likely only implemented because ultimately it was occasionally useful - he'd convinced Severus to apply a Perception Charm to the doors to both the classroom and the corridor, permitting both portraits to hear and see everything that happened on the other side while safely hidden within the confines of the office. Why shouldn't Snape's portrait learn from the best, after all? Phineas had fancied that quite the winning argument. The surprise had been just how much he'd learnt as well. Much had changed in the last three quarters of a century since he died, and while only little of that knowledge made its way to the latest edition of Borage's classic text to be passed on to the students in turn, with the threat of Riddle removed, Severus had proven incapable of leaving a portrait of his with such a fundamentally flawed and factually incorrect understanding of his field. Phineas has quite enjoyed the private tutelage and the discussions it periodically gives rise to. There's a fine mind in that man's head.

A third Perception Charm had eventually been applied to the door to Severus' quarters, so that he could hear if Phineas called for him. The portrait hadn't expected to be granted a view of the man's chambers, that was a bridge too far, but this was still a measure of some trust, and he took it as such.

He doesn't abuse that faith. He's very circumspect with his privilege. Softly softly and all that.

Correspondingly, he hadn't disturbed Severus last night, not once the Baron had made it clear that the Head's help wouldn't be required with the eighth years. Phineas had watched, attentively, the view the Charmed door afforded of the dungeon corridor as the Gryffindors had assisted the Slytherin Prefects back to their dorms, and he'd observed their return not long after. Again he'd thought about reporting the matter to the Head, quickly rejecting the idea because the man really does need his rest, and the situation was over. He'd then thought about reporting it to Minerva, but again, there was no longer any pressing need for action, that and she doesn't need to know where his portrait hangs. In fact he's quite funny about that.

As a newly minted Headmaster, he'd asked all the portraits in his office for a complete inventory of their other locations when he first took the position and could compel them to answer, just as decades later Severus had as well. Snape was the only other Headmaster to his knowledge to have done so, and beyond being sworn to serve him, plus his being a fellow Slytherin and Head of House, that question in itself had been sufficient to make Phineas warm to him. He feels strongly that people who haven't the perspicacity to inform themselves, to properly collect relevant data, aren't entitled to have it all simply handed to them. So while he isn't out to sabotage Minerva per se, definitely not that, likewise he can't seem to bring himself to help her quite as fully as he had Severus, assorted Oaths notwithstanding.

He'd split his time after the Gryffindors left the dungeons between the group portrait in the Slyterhin common room and his official painting in the Headmistress' office, curious to see if the Moggies would report the attack. They failed to disappoint; quite naturally they did not. That is, in all fairness, the boys didn't report it, however the, uh... Muggle-born witch who'd had the unparalleled audacity - Gryffindors - to drag his portrait on that frightful camping trip last year did. Improbable as it seems, she's not altogether as benighted as most in the building. The bar, it should be noted, is exceedingly low.

Well, it was probably the least she could do for his House, as he sees it, if she insisted on taking up residence in his family home.

But there again, Phineas felt, there'd been no need for Severus to join them in Minerva's office. The portrait is perfectly capable of giving him the highlights of the meeting, and the man had far too much work as was. And of course if he had put in an appearance, Minerva might finally begin to wonder where Phineas' portraits hang that Severus was so well informed.

Admittedly Phineas had been briefly tempted to call for the Head after all when he'd seen the state of young Malfoy. The Turkeys had done quite the number on the poor lad, and if the portrait is possibly - just a touch - partial because he's Narcissa Black's boy, well surely that can be understood. Miss Parkinson had deposited him on a couch and, none too steady herself, wobbled off to fetch Miss Wilkins from the dorms. After a bit of consultation, the trio elected to wake the other upper years and allow them to see the extent of the damage that had been inflicted upon the two Prefects before Miss Wilkins set to healing them, Nott, Hutchinson and Miss Touchstone assisting with assorted potions and salves. Phineas felt it was a wise decision, showing not a little courage on the Prefects' parts, which he quite appreciated - Severus may be rubbing off on him - to say nothing of their stubbornness. There's often a good deal to recommend it, these past few years in particular. Miss Wilkins proved to be a surprisingly capable young woman, evidently nursing a dream of an apprenticeship at St. Mungo's upon graduation. He imagines some day she might make an excellent Healer. Given a chance, anyway. Those are somewhat thin on the ground for members of his House just at present.

After much discussion - and hearing in some detail what had happened to Miss Parkinson had again had Phineas wondering if he should alert the Head, but then what would have been the sense at that hour - the students still hadn't decided if they should take points from the Ravenclaws themselves, and if so, how many, or report the incident to someone who might. It didn't help that they were unsure if the Headmistress would do so for their sakes given she'd sent Malfoy and Miss Parkinson out there on their own to begin with, and of course, as a whole, they're just as reluctant to disturb the Head as Phineas is. They'd finally deferred the decision until morning and retired for the night.

The portrait quite looks forward to telling them about the four hundred points that had been deducted from Ravenclaw, far more than any of them had even conceived of as punishment. At least that should be some consolation after the chat he needs to have with Severus.

Rather mistakenly, he expects the revelation he'd had to brief the Headmistress, however obliquely, about the Domum Revelio Charm is likely to displease the Head the most...

Gryffindor common room, corridors, Great Hall

Hermione seems determined that they need to reach the Great Hall for breakfast before the Slytherin Prefects do. Frankly, Harry's not too sure they'll show, not after the night they had, which would render that plan moot, but he very much wants to be gone before Ron gets up and he has to explain Hermione's point deductions to him, so he's quick to agree with her suggestion or anything else that will get him out of there. Accordingly his shower is very short.

As quickly as he gets ready, Hermione still manages to return to the common room before him.

She must have used Charms, or she's broken the land speed record for her morning ablutions, because when he enters, there she stands in fresh clothes, busy interrogating the Fat Lady once again. 'Mione pauses in her questioning to toss him two potions, promptly quaffing their twins. It strikes Harry as funny that she'd waited until he arrived to do so, but it works as planned in as much as he parrots her actions, quaffing his own without hesitation. "A Wit Sharpening and a general Alertness potion," she explains, although her expression suggests he probably should have recognised them. Anticipating his question, she adds, "That latter is a bit of a misnomer; primarily it's to keep you awake."

In as much as it's Sunday and he can nap all he likes after breakfast, cheers, he thinks they weren't exactly necessary. On the other hand, they won't hurt either, so... There's something about the practised way she opens the phials one handed with a routine flick of her thumb and then tosses them back that has him wondering how often she resorts to such measures.

"Harry, you should know that by now," she chides. "You can definitely expect that sort of thing on the N.E.W.T.s." She shakes her head, clearly deeply affected by his abiding ignorance. What should he think of that?

The third week of classes hasn't even started, and she's already envisioning their exams. Sure. Right on brand. He can just picture her colour coded study plans already.

Harry gives her a bemused grin as she returns to her attention to the portrait. Better the Fat Lady than him. 'Mione's trying to narrow down who may have entered or left the dorm during the course of the previous evening, and in precisely what order, in the hope of putting together a list of suspects for the Slytherins' attack. He suspects it isn't going well, and from the look of sheer envy the portrait had given him as he drank his potions, she's none too pleased to be running through this at this hour either.

"Please. Anyone you can recall. Anyone at all..." 'Mione prods yet again, but the clearly exhausted portrait has nothing further to offer between yawns, and as a whole, Harry's right, the interview proves no more fruitful than its predecessor had. Still, it needed to be tried.

"Come on," 'Mione encourages him, finally accepting defeat, or perhaps simply noting the time. "We need to hurry." And with that she grabs his hand, dragging him through the portrait hole once more. It seems to be becoming their thing. She tosses a brief word of thanks to a portrait too tired to care as it closes behind them, and tugs him towards the Great Hall.

While she really does want to beat the Slytherins to breakfast, for her part Hermione is mostly just eager to have left before Ginny joins them. With the three of them sitting at the same table as both Malfoy and Parkinson, she can't picture it ending well if she were to tell Ginny what happened last night; the redhead is far from subtle. And with Ginny's temper, she's very likely going to hold a grudge if Hermione doesn't tell her all about it. Damned if she does, damned if she doesn't. Avoidance may not be the bravest of courses, but just at the moment it seems the smartest, so Hermione embraces it. She can scarcely be expected to tell Ginny and Luna about the attempted assault while they're sitting there with Parkinson, Muffliato or no.

Making matters worse, Hermione isn't absolutely, positively sure what the Headmistress and staff will end up telling the students. It wouldn't be the first time she and the Headmistress came to what Hermione believed was an agreement on how to approach an issue, only to discover it changed when it's implemented; the seating at meals immediately springs to mind. (Of course that's the difference between being the individual actually in charge and simply having your advice sought. And if you're only one of many advisors at that...) So yes, in that light, she'd very much like to avoid that conversation until all of that's resolved one way or another, and really, there's a good chance if the Headmistress addresses it, that Hermione won't have to at all.

She perks up just at the thought.

The closer they get to the dining hall, the more Harry begins making dissatisfied noises about Ron and all those points she'd taken from the Ravenclaws... It seems he very much isn't over it in the least. Her reminder that Ron isn't sitting at their table isn't the comfort it might have been on a day with classes that would have kept them from arguing about it after the meal. As is...

No, Harry can picture their day all too clearly, and unlike Hermione, he can't just go hide in the library the whole time. Actually, he could, and in as much as no one would think to look for him there, it would probably be an even better hiding spot for him, but there's just no way he can be expected to spend an entire day closeted up like that. So she's probably completely ruined his weekend really, now that he thinks of it.

He's still tired but not sleepy, if that makes sense, and not accustomed to the potions he'd taken and certainly not layering both at once, his nerves are somewhat on edge. They'll settle. 'Mione doesn't seem to be having any issues at all.

"Harry, you wouldn't have kept the attack from Ginny, would you?" Hermione sounds a little exasperated; fine, he may give her cause, but then he's entitled. "If we hadn't told Professor McGonagall, you'd still have told Ginny about the threat, wouldn't you?" Harry is clearly offended that she might even consider that he wouldn't have, of course he would, and he's fully prepared to bluster, except 'Mione's predatory smile warns him he's stepped into her trap. "So why did you wake me last night? Why did you want me to know about it?" Yeah, with the shift in emphasis, it's not quite the same question from the night before. He senses more than recognises the problem. "Wouldn't it have made sense to have waited until morning and tell me when you told Ginny as well?"

Actually, phrased like that, that's an excellent question, and he doesn't have a ready answer. Fortunately his furrowed brow responds for him, alleviating the need.

"So why did you wake me?" She nudges him again.

"I'm... I'm not... I'm not really sure," he admits slowly.

"I think deep down you knew something needed to be done, the Headmistress needed to be told, and I think you knew I'd tell her. You just didn't want to do it yourself. I'm your plausible deniability," she smirks. "If anyone asks, you didn't tell her, I did." He swallows, but secretly has to acknowledge there might be something to it. She's a little scary sometimes, the way she sees through him. He's probably lucky she's his friend. Well, yeah, for plenty of reasons really, but right now because she's also scary.

"So can you stop blaming me for how Ron's going to react?" She wraps it up with a distinctly prickly bow.

Well.

Yeah, he can see how that might get on her nerves especially.

"Sorry," he says, simply and sincerely, and she gives him a big smile, clearly having forgiven him already. Things really are that easy between them. It's nice.

"You didn't need me as a go between anyway, Harry. You fought Voldemort and won. Reporting something like that to Professor McGonagall, even when admitting an infraction of your own," she shakes her head. "It should be a doddle in comparison." Sure. Except he's met the witch in question. Hell, he spent the night in her office. 'Mione may be a good friend, but she's also clearly delusional. He wisely keeps that assessment to himself, at least for now. Once Ron gets over the whole point deduction thing, he might tell him instead.

They're the first to arrive in the Great Hall, and Hermione slips into her seat to wait for the Slytherins to appear. She can't imagine Parkinson will be too keen on sitting with boys from other Houses, that is if she saw the results of Malfoy's spell. And even if she hadn't, he'd have surely told her, wouldn't he?

The Ravenclaws have been mucking about with the seating plan, Professor McGonagall had certainly had a few choice things to say about it, but Luna definitely wasn't going to switch tables, and Terry Boot and Morag MacDougal hadn't seemed inclined to separate either. So that means there's only one of the potential Ravenclaw attackers seated at their table, and they know Terry from the DA. There's no way he did something like this. The thing is, Parkinson probably doesn't have the comfort of that knowledge, and Hermione thinks it might help to share that with her. Harry's the only male Gryffindor at their table, at least once Ron's seat had been claimed by Susan Bones at the Sorting Feast. Harry had come to the Slytherins' aid, so Parkinson can't possibly doubt him. Finally, as for the Hufflepuffs, here again they were only looking for one. Head Boy Ernie Macmillan? Not on your life, and he and Justin Finch-Fletchley were also both members of the DA; Hermione feels confident vouching for the two of them as well. Now if Zacharias Smith were still at their table, that would be a different matter, but Harper Hutchinson had swapped with him on the first day of term, too...

Hmm.

Yes.

So no, Hermione is certain, none of attackers are at their table, she just needs to see to it Parkinson knows that as well.

It's a fine plan, or would be if it didn't hinge entirely on Pansy's potential faith in the Moggie's judgment.

Details.

"I don't think you've grasped how well selected the timing of the attack was, Harry," she's determined to try to explain some of the finer details he's still stubbornly failing to comprehend despite the night's protracted discussions. How very dare he choose to sleep instead. Yeah, his priorities can be funny that way.

There's a fleeting sense of deja vu and reflexively Harry starts looking for Peeves, pretty sure that's where they'd left off when he accosted them last night... Well more like this morning really. There's no sign of the poltergeist, but Harry also fails to see the Bloody Baron, no more likely to spot the ghost now than he'd been before the apparition chose to become visible the night before.

"How do you reckon?" He asks, figuring it's as good a way to pass the time until the Snakes put in an appearance as any. At least it will keep him from fretting about Ron.

"Well, there's always a chance Parkinson and Malfoy weren't targeted. There's a chance, however slim, they didn't mean to attack either Prefects in general or Slytherins in the specific at all. Let's say they were simply interrupted while they were about something else," she suggests.

"Sounds plausible," he shrugs, because that's clearly preferable to people doing... that to Malfoy and Parkinson deliberately. Except a small voice in the back of his head argues it doesn't quite mesh with the way the attackers had insisted on waking Malfoy... Well maybe the blond had gotten off a few good spells in the fight, and they'd tried to pay him back for it... Honestly Harry doesn't really like thinking about it either way.

"Sure, except delaying whatever it was as much as half an hour would have seen to that and spared them the issue entirely. That much of the schedule was clear literal centuries in advance." Actually, yeah. She has a point. Everyone knows when they do rounds.

"So not interrupted then."

"Probably not," she agrees. "And on a Saturday, there's no Astronomy class to disturb them, and it was the last rounds by Prefects for the evening. There was no help to be expected."

"You said Malfoy and Parkinson decided Thursday to do the weekend shift. How does that work?"

"All the Slytherins did," she nods. "You have to swap as a block. It's in rotation, but different to usual. This year with the eighth years, there are four years' worth of Prefects from four Houses meaning sixteen pairs in total to do the rounds. Usually we'd only have twelve. There are sixteen shifts, Sunday through Thursday there are two each, Friday and Saturday there are three, and normally we'd rotate who does a second shift in any given week, with each House covering the weekend shift, the last hour on Friday plus all three on Saturday, once a month. This year we have enough Prefects that we don't have to double up, but it would have been unfair to always saddle a single House with duty on the weekend, so now we rotate who does that instead. Start of term, as Head Boy and Head Girl, Ernie and I flipped a coin to see who'd have to cover them. The Hufflepuffs lost, so by default they have duty on the weekend, unless they switch with one of the other Houses that is. We thought they'd be up this weekend until Thursday when the Slytherins announced they'd do it instead, and then the Hufflepuffs had to cover both of their shifts that evening, and they'll need to do the other two on Tuesday."

"Wait, so if you'd lost the coin toss with Ernie, we'd have been stuck with weekend rounds all year?" He sounds scandalised at the very thought.

"Focus, Harry. By default, yes, but like I said, it's in rotation, we wouldn't have to do them any more often than we do now, we'd just have had less control over when we had them is all. It means less ability to plan than if you're assigned a regular night like everyone else. Anyway, you wouldn't have had to do the rounds either way."

Harry appears instantly crestfallen, and Hermione wishes she hadn't mentioned it, but sometimes she just gets carried away. Even years later, it's still something of a sore point that Ron had gotten the Prefect's badge instead of Harry. She gets that. It would drive her bonkers, too.

"Well, I guess we won the toss, so it doesn't matter," Harry assumes a bit of false cheer, trying to gloss over his residual disappointment. Really you'd think after receiving an Order of Merlin - First Class, no less - it wouldn't matter, but it does.

Hermione's lips are tight, and finally she answers, "I found out afterwards that Ron had supplied the coin."

"Oh." Harry is pretty sure he understands the implications of that. Really, having a brother who runs a joke shop... It was almost too much to expect Ron wouldn't occasionally employ a product or two of George's.

Except Hermione clearly doesn't see it that way.

"And you didn't turn him in?" Harry asks. Frankly, he's a little surprised. The way Ron had worked her last nerve all summer, and the way Hermione loved to follow the rules, well, the ones she chose to anyway, but still...

"By that point we'd already made a schedule, and Ron pocketed the Galleon instantly when Ernie returned it. I couldn't prove anything, just cause a fuss." Seeing that it clearly still bothers her, Harry thinks it was kind that she'd let it go. Ron's really been something of a challenge for all of them the past several months.

"So anyway, if the attack was deliberate..." 'Mione begins and Harry doesn't so much as snicker. She's clearly eager to change the subject, and he's smart enough not to belabour the matter, "why wouldn't the Slytherins still be at risk when they resume their rounds on Thursday?"

"No..." he replies with a sinking feeling. "I guess it would still be a problem."

"Yes," she nods, "my thoughts exactly."

The Baron couldn't agree more.

"So what do you want to do about it..." the Potter boy begins to ask, and the ghost suspects he'd have gotten his answer, too, except just then an exceedingly large contingent of Slytherins arrives, suspiciously early.

Five of them make a beeline for their table and now stand facing them, arms crossed and frowns firmly in place, practically down to a witchard. Daphne naturally can't help herself, she breaks ranks and flashes Harry a small smile. It was really incredibly brave what he'd done.

"What are you doing here, Potter?" Malfoy hurls at him, as if Harry hadn't just pulled his arse from the fire once yet again. In as much as Hermione has been trying to draw him into conversation for nearly two weeks now, and he just keeps steadfastly ignoring her, actual speech makes for something of a change. It's not exactly scintillating conversation, but still... a decided improvement over the usual snarl. There were actual words uttered. Well, hurled, but yeah.

"We were feeling peckish. When a witch or wizard, regardless of blood purity, gets that empty feeling in their stomachs," Harry smarms, mocking Malfoy with an echo of something he'd said at the Sorting Feast; honestly, Harry kind of enjoys it, "they can always reach for a Tummy Tonic, but the first of the five Principal Exceptions to Gamp's law dictates that there's no real replacement for food..." He shoots Hermione a glance and yes, she's clearly impressed that he'd remembered that little tit bit. See? He grins. Sometimes he listens. Maybe her study charts won't need to be quite so long after all.

Malfoy is something of a surprise himself, though, seen here in the daylight, all shiny and sparkly and whole. There's hardly a mark on him as far as Harry can see. It doesn't seem to strike Hermione as odd, but then she hadn't seen him last night. This is a far better result than Harry would have expected, even if he'd been smart enough to go to Pomfrey.

Ella Wilkins had done good work, the potions had sorted much of what remained, and a few well selected Glamours by Róisín Rosier had done for the rest. Easy peasy, at least if one disregards all the skill and effort involved.

To Draco's and several other Slytherins' way of thinking, there were three boys at their table who could have been amongst the attackers last night, admittedly no more than two of whom were actual possibilities. Merlin, they'd have suspected Potter, too, if he were capable of being in two places at once, but the Ministry had famously lost all the Time-Turners. Pansy hadn't wanted to skip the meal, so that was settled; the next best solution was to show up in numbers and here they were. They'd meant to be ready and waiting, to make it abundantly clear they won't be run off - hell, some of them couldn't leave if they wanted thanks to the restrictions the Ministry had placed on them - but early as they are, the damned Moggies had beat them to it.

"Parkinson, can I have a word about the Prefects' schedule?" Hermione asks, instantly drawing the ire of all the Snakes present, because they can't believe Potter hadn't told her what happened last night, and then to do this, of all things, now... Fuck her rota all to hell. That's what had gotten them into this mess. It might have helped the situation if Headmaster Black had seen fit to mention she'd been the one to take the four hundred points from Ravenclaw, but somehow he hadn't found that detail crucial.

Instead the Slytherins' outrage will only increase when Pansy later tells them that had been the fool Moggie's clumsy attempt at cover for hollow reassurances as to the characters of the other males at their table. Circe's left tit. The cherry on top were Granger's suggestions for how the Slytherins might swap seats amongst themselves, just to reassure Pansy, seeing as how she sat across from Boot and all. As if none of them had the brains or the compassion to think of such things on their own.

Really, the conceit of Gryffindors truly knows no bounds.

Written with oodles of love for lostangelsoul3.

"soaring part 5" by gingerbred

chapter 05 avoidance

Previously:

Sunday, 13 September, 1998

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