christmasspirit | "soaring part 6" by gingerbred (Reply)

Chapter 06, hissing

Characters: Severus Snape, Harry Potter / Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Minerva McGonagall, Neville Longbottom, Pansy Parkinson, Ella Wilkins, Harper Hutchinson, Daphne Greengrass, Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood

13 September, 1998. Severus' and Draco's days aren't going quite to plan.

Originally Published: 2023-07-01 on LJ / DW
Words: 6.9 k
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Characters: Severus Snape (Head of Slytherin and Deputy Headmaster), Draco Malfoy (8S, Prefect, Captain, Seeker), Hermione Granger (8G, Head Girl), Minerva McGonagall (Headmistress), Neville Longbottom (newly minted Herbology Apprentice and Head of Gryffindor), Pansy Parkinson (8S, Prefect), Daphne Greengrass (8S), Ella Wilkins (7S, Prefect with an interest in Healing Charms), Harper Hutchinson (7S, Prefect, Chaser), Ginny Weasley (7G, Chaser), Harry Potter (8G, Captain, Seeker),

Mentioned briefly: Staff: Pomona Sprout (Head of Hufflepuff, Herbology Professor), Filius Flitwick (Head of Ravenclaw, Charms Professor), portrait Phineas Nigellus Black (portrait of the one-time Headmaster and ex-Head of Slytherin), Slytherins: Theo Nott (8S, Hestia's), Millicent 'Millie' Bulstrode (8S, Reserve Beater), Hestia Carrow (7S, Chaser, Lycanthrope attack survivor, Theo's somewhat rabid other half), Valerie "Val" Vaisey (7S, Chaser, Lycanthrope attack survivor), Tomasina Touchstone (6S, Prefect, Potions savvy heiress), Hunter Hutchinson (5S, Imp, Harper's little brother), Wilfred Wilkes (5S), Thaddeus Travers (1S, eager Firstie), Gryffindor: Ron Weasley (8G, Prefect, Keeper), Ravenclaws: Terry Boot (8R, DA), Morag MacDougal (8R), Hufflepuff: Ernie Macmillan (8H, Head Boy, DA), Other: Elizabeth Wilkins (Member of the Wizengamot, Ella’s mum), Stan Shunpike (Knight Bus conductor, sentenced to Azkaban), Amelia Bones (ex-Head of the DMLE, Member of the Wizengamot, Susan Bone's aunt, now deceased)

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).

Summer 1998. As it's considered crucial to have as many of the posts at the school as possible in trusted hands, and those prove in much shorter supply than one might hope, Neville finds himself with a largely unanticipated promotion to Head of Gryffindor when he begins his Herbology apprenticeship in the autumn. Similarly, Minerva convinced Severus to remain at the school and appointed him Deputy Headmaster, as part of her ongoing effort to see him rehabilitated in the eyes of the wizarding world. First mentioned in CS

July 1998. Stan Shunpike is sentenced to Azkaban, and Hermione, unable to accept many of the vagaries of wizarding law, is taking it far too personally. S 01

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

13 September, 1998. Sensing more restrictions likely to come in the wake of the attack on the Slytherins, Hermione convinces the Headmistress that the eighth years, all legally of age, shouldn't be restricted the same way the seventh years are. The issue of safety was an altogether separate matter and should be addressed as such. For the moment, at least, that plan still holds. S 04

13 September, 1998. Hermione is exceedingly keen to avoid being put in a position where she'll be expected to tell Ginny (and Luna) about the assault on the Slytherins the night before. S 05

13 September, 1998. Loyalty Oaths are a tricky in general, particularly as not everyone considers the same things disloyal. In portraits, with their imperfect representations of the subjects' personalities, that problem is only exacerbated. Even a highly motivated portrait might get things wrong unintentionally, like Phineas Nigellus neglecting to tell the Slytherins that Hermione was the one who had taken the four hundred points from Ravenclaw. S 05

Sunday, 13 September, 1998

Great Hall

Finding the optimal time to address students during weekend breakfasts can be difficult in that there were more likely to be stragglers than during the week, but equally, more students were apt to finish the meals early in order to go about their days. When halfway through the meal the first students rise to leave and Minerva calls for attention to announce she wishes to speak with all eighth years in the Great Hall after breakfast, Severus isn't particularly surprised. Perhaps that she'd limited the scope to the eighth years, or that she isn't speaking only to the boys, but after his chat with Phineas this morning, something of this nature was to be expected, he feels. He registers that she hadn't felt the need to speak with him beforehand, just as he notes Filius isn't caught the least unawares by her announcement. Hmm. He considers how probable it is that that would still be the case if it hadn't been for the four hundred points taken from the Turkeys... and is dissatisfied at the answer. If he weren't so busy, he might even tell Minerva just what he thinks about that. There's some consolation - not much, but some - that Pomona and her apprentice also seem to have been excluded from her plans. That's three out of the four Heads then. And the other two most likely haven't even the benefit of knowing there'd been an attack the night before. Yes, he feels a little better at that... until it occurs to him the only reason he's better informed than the Herbologists is he has a literal system in place to ensure that's the case. It's not as though she'd taken him into her confidence...

Hmm again.

Minerva simply doesn't seem to see the benefit to keeping her Heads of House apprised of her plans.

Of course, he'll be a great deal more surprised when he finds out - after the students no less - that the meeting was solely to announce the expanded eighth year privileges. Those privileges were yet another detail Phineas Nigellus hadn't seen fit to mention, although in all fairness he knew nothing about Minerva's concrete plans to speak to the children, and certainly not about what nor when. It's not as though Flitwick had seen fit to put a portrait of the Slytherin Headmaster's in his quarters.

The announcement gives Hermione a convenient out, and she's pleased that she'll be spared from having to fill Ginny in on last night after the meal. It says everything about the state of things that the students assume the worst. Of course the still unexplained four hundred points removed from Ravenclaw the previous night have a way of reinforcing that impression, and everyone not required to be there will hurry to be well clear of the Hall before the assembly begins.

"Do you think it's to do with that?" Ginny whispers loudly enough that half the table can hear. Draco seethes quietly, wondering just how much Potter has told to just how many. If his thoughts automatically turn to the assault instead of the point loss like those from the other Houses, it only makes sense as one of the victims of said assault.

Hermione is rather pleased with herself when she can honestly reply that's she's quite certain it was connected, somehow, but obviously has no way of knowing what is going to be said. It's nice to have threaded that needle for all of the difference it makes. Certainly no one she's presently actively deceiving is likely to find any consolation in that distinction.

Not entirely put off, Ginny looks set to ask her next question and, at a guess, Luna has some of her own she's withholding because she's perceived Hermione would greatly prefer her not asking. If experience is anything to judge by, it's only a matter of time, though, before the blonde Ravenclaw points out said preference to Ginny - in front of the whole table, most like - and Hermione's begun to fret. Just a bit. It doesn't help either that many of the rest are pleased to just listen in - Granger and Potter, probably as a substantial part of the golden trio, often seem to be on the inside track - and then, saved by the Spell, Harry interrupts the conversation rather spectacularly. It's occurred to him that Ron, who once again hasn't shown for the meal, has no way of knowing about the assembly, and Harry frankly doesn't have the foggiest where he is just at the moment either. He could go back to the Tower and use the Marauders' Map, but then he'd still have to track the ginger down and drag him back, and the time really might not be enough for the job. And naturally he's hungry, fairly, and not quite done with his food... So not thinking it through any further, whatever for, he promptly twitches his wand and casts a Patronus and means to set it to fetch Ron. That may have sounded good in his head as far as that went, except his stag is pretty large, and it manifests smack in the middle of their table, and questions or not, people were still eating here, cheers.

For a moment, the only noise is the clattering of Ernie Macmillan's silverware as he attempts to retrieve it from the floor and Terry Boot's quiet "Cor," and then Malfoy breaks the stunned silence, "Subtle, Potter. Very subtle."

"It speaks," Harry taunts the Slytherin in turn. 'Mione had been encouraging him to engage more with the blond, well there they have it. She should be careful what she wishes for.

"Could you be any more flamboyant?" Pansy drawls, and as if they'd just been waiting for a sign from her that she's feeling well enough for them to joke and tease and act as though things were normal, which they're obviously not, as if a damn breaks there's a flood of slightly overeager quips from the Snakes about this ephemeral beast of a creature now prancing in their midst, Greengrass again breaking step. "He's kind of pretty, though. Do you know if they can be cast in purple?" Evidently she marches to the croak of a different toad.

Their table is right in front of the High Table, and his stag was unlikely to be missed at any rate, and almost immediately the Headmistress calls out, "Mr. Potter, this is hardly the time or place for that sort of thing," and Draco just laughs, feeling smugly reaffirmed. Authority figures agreeing with him? How often has that happened lately?

Fine, Harry recognises he's not in any position to argue, in fact 'Mione looks set to lecture him. Without saying a word, with another flick of his wand, he Finites the Spell, stands and leaves the Hall to send the Patronus from the corridor instead. He can still hear Malfoy's and Hutchinson's laughter, with Greengrass chiding them - because Potter had been very nice... - until the doors close behind him. He imagines she'll have her hands full trying to make any headway on that front.

Ginny is still laughing as well, even after Harry's gone, all the more so because of Hermione's somewhat sour expression. "Cheer up," she kids, "it could have been worse. What if I'd cast my horse?" Luna giggles at the thought.

Hermione quite predictably doesn't, but she forsakes a rant in favour of the simpler observation that Ginny had had the excellent sense not to do something so stupid.

As it's a compliment, Ginny opts not to clarify she very well might have, were Ron any less of a tit, that is, and had she still been willing to keep him informed. Hermione's not the only one he's been annoying of late.

Now suitably distracted, discussion resumes, but they've moved on, and no one feels the need to ask Hermione any more questions about the Headmistress' announcement. Instead she attempts to strike up a conversation with Daphne Greengrass about the color of Patroni, largely unsuccessful due to the distance between them. ('No, to my knowledge there've been no purple ones.' 'As yet,' Greengrass emphasises.)

As the only person from a different House at the table aware of why the Slytherins might be anxious about the assembly, Hermione wrestles a little with guilt. While simultaneously struggling not to reveal too much to the others, as though compelled, she then rather clumsily pivots to trying to reassure the Snakes, labouring as she is under the mistaken apprehension that she's capable of doing so. If anything, that lump in the pit of Pansy's stomach just continues to grow the harder Granger tries, and she sits there struggling not to eye Boot too suspiciously. It won't pay to be conspicuous.

The Dungeons, the Pitch

Draco storms into the dungeons well ahead of the other eighth years, and the look on his face is sufficient to keep the younger students from asking what the Headmistress had said. Well, most of the younger students. Firstie Thaddeus Travers seems incapable of controlling himself much longer, practically leaping from his seat as he begins to formulate what is surely only the first of many questions; Harper Hutchinson's strong grip all but forces him back into his chair, silencing him as he does. The look he shoots the little blond is clear, there will be enough other people to ask. Draco isn't the one they need to be pestering. And yet, Harper's not overly stern about it. Thaddeus is lucky, he reminds the seventh year quite a bit of his younger brother Hunter.

The Malfoy heir stomps into his otherwise empty room, performs a couple of quick spells to change his clothes into something warmer and better suited to purpose, and then Accios his broom and his cloak as he heads out the door and single-mindedly makes for the pitch. He reaches the entrance before the others in his year return; they're clever enough to give him a wide berth. The rest then stop in the common room, where the group gathered waits only until Millie takes a visibly floored Pansy to their room before they begin inundating the remaining eighth years with questions. Theo and Daphne do their best to provide most of the answers; it should go without saying, given the Headmistress' announcement, that they're far from satisfactory.

The flying helps clear Draco's mind, and he bats Quaffle after charmed Quaffle at the goals. Once they're sent through a hoop, they whizz back to his side of the pitch, though not necessarily his immediate vicinity, so he gets in quite a bit of a workout chasing after them. They gain slightly in speed with each iteration, and at least one seems to be Jinxed to fly for his head. It suits his mood. All in all, it's not nearly as useful practice as chasing a Snitch would be, but just now the resounding thwack of his bat proves more satisfying. Experience dictates: with time his anger will fade. Generally there's a correlation between how nippy the air is, and how long that takes - in the absence of Warming Charms, that is - but just at the moment he's fairly certain it will take a good deal longer than usual.

He'd come up with any number of plans in the wee hours of the morning based on what the Headmistress ended up telling the school had happened last night. Surely they'd have to say something to justify the four hundred points from Ravenclaw, so if only for that reason alone... He scoffs, all but certain the assault on his person wouldn't be seen as warranting such a response. Some of his plans he'd shared with - some - of the others, most of them he kept to himself; unfortunately he's rather gotten in the habit of that the past couple of years. It had been advantageous at the time, now it's become somewhat less than healthy.

Going to breakfast, he'd been positive, dead certain, that at least some of his plans must apply. Under no circumstances, not in any of his most convoluted scenarios, and many were that, had he imagined they'd loosen the rules for the eighth years in response to last night, and he and most of the other Slytherins are furious at the news. He and Pansy the most, naturally. They'd been quite open and honest about what had transpired, but it still hits differently when you experience something like that yourself.

Ultimately only the fact it starts drizzling is finally enough to drive the now exhausted eighth year Prefect back to the dorms. Any other year, and he'd have owled his father about this... He suspects there's little point with the man now sat in Azkaban.

Library

After the assembly, Hermione scurries off to the library. Professor McGonagall hadn't addressed the the events of the night before at all, and the question as to the reason for the point loss still looms tall. With a sinking feeling, she's beginning to realise she'll be endeavouring to avoid Ginny until that changes. Brilliant. It would be a lot easier if they didn't sit next to each other at meals... And of course Terry and Morag MacDougal were likely to start interrogating her as well.

In fact, skipping lunch might not be such a terrible idea... Fine, it's not the healthiest thing... Well, she can give it some thought.

And it's not like she doesn't have plenty to do.

Only a few weeks ago, she'd argued with the Headmistress about how she and the boys were behind the rest of the students in their N.E.W.T.s classes, the eighth years having the distinct advantage of repeating the material, and the seventh years at least had still been in school just a few months prior. Minerva had had to point out that the other Muggle-born had missed the year as well, and the seventh years hadn't even completed the sixth before starting the coursework from the seventh. As the Headmistress saw it, there were plenty a great deal worse off than the trio, or at least as poorly situated, and Hermione was allowing her fear of failure to hold her back. If she'd just sat her N.E.W.T.s over the summer like they'd offered, she could be starting an apprenticeship somewhere right now like Neville.

Despite Hermione's certainty that she wasn't up to speed, a mere two weeks into the term, she finds herself with sufficient extra time on her hands to be researching Stan Shunpike's problem. Again. The relevant case law, while not thoroughly uninteresting, is complicated and contradictory enough that Hermione only broaches it superficially. Hogwarts hasn't the library for it at any rate, and frankly, as a field, it just doesn't interest her very much. It doesn't seem possible, but somehow it's even worse than Muggle law. She'd been fortunate enough last summer to have found someone on the Wizengamot who'd been willing to work with them - as a Slytherin, Madam Wilkins had seemed interested in helping Malfoy and Professor Snape get a fair trial - and the woman is still prepared to answer Hermione's questions, if she can just narrow their scope.

Her current avenue of attack is trying to figure out if there were any way to have Veritaserum testimony admitted, and failing that, what adequate substitutes might present themselves.

It's not going well.

Making matters worse, Madam Wilkins' replies had been observably more terse of late. Of course, the trials really had consumed an inordinate amount of time, and then there had been all the hearings as to appropriate restrictions for the returning Slytherin students, but Hermione can't help suspecting some of the woman's reticence stems from Stan not being a Slytherin, too. Either way, it was fair to acknowledge the jurist's hands had often clearly been tied - more than she imagines Madam Bones' would have been in her position, say - presumably due to her own House affiliation against the backdrop of the reasons for the trials. Those caveats notwithstanding, the advice she provided was always sound, and Hermione scribbles fiercely on the notes for her latest owl to the witch.

The initial and almost immediately noticeable effect of the relaxed rules is that by and large the students assume that the Ravenclaws must have lost the points for being out after curfew - technically true enough, but also so, so very wrong - and that's why the rules were adjusted. Some voices immediately grow loud demanding the points be returned, causing the Slytherins to smoulder almost as one. As everyone can agree the Turkeys would have broken the rules at the time, however, the majority feel that the point loss must have been justified. A certain portion of the motivation there can no doubt be ascribed to the competition between Houses. That was one House out of the running, and with their reduced numbers, Slytherin was going to have a much harder go of it this year as well... The Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors begin eyeing one another more seriously.

Admittedly with four hundred points being taken, a fair amount of curiosity remains as to just how many of the Ravenclaws were out after curfew. Well all who weren't eighth years would still lose points if it happened again tomorrow, so that's considered largely settled. Easily two thirds of the school is confident: the punishment - for whatever it was - was fair.

Even when the Heads finally inform the girls there'd been an attack - and the first order of concern is if this means they'll lose the extra privileges; the relief is great when they're immediately reassured to the contrary - next to none of them assume it was the Ravenclaws, or even students, or take the threat all too seriously, because if it had been, they wouldn't have given the eighth years more privileges, and they'd have told them about it first thing, wouldn't they?

One might think after all these years at the school, they'd know better.

Faculty Antechamber off the Great Hall

The first Severus hears of the eighth years' newly expanded privileges is the meeting for the Heads of House that Minerva calls shortly before lunch. The timing won't have been coincidence, either, as it allows them precious little opportunity for discussion. Effectively no curfew whatsoever for the eighth years? How is he supposed to keep his students safe? He doesn't have time to escort them on their rounds. This is absurd.

Disregarding the the idiocy of that response to the matter - sheer, unmitigated stupidity of the first order - or the inherent implications that his students' welfare counted for so little, cheers, and the clear affront in informing the student body of the changes first... Frankly, no, there are no words for any of that and he most certainly will not be disregarding it, ta. It's all further evidence, were it required, that he's the deputy Headmaster in name only, not that he necessarily wants the position - Merlin's bloody bollocks, no - but he wishes they hadn't insisted on giving him the title if this is how they mean to handle it.

Of course, when Minerva soon after practically insists on conducting the Head of House talk with the Gryffindor girls after lunch, effectively cutting Longbottom off at the knees - once yet again; it's been a bit of a thing - Severus decides his position, however tenuous, could be worse. He almost feels sorry for the boy.

Severus is still weighing a sufficiently caustic response to her first proclamation about the eighth years when Minerva finally gets around to informing the others there'd been an attack on the Prefects last night. The rota is known, all present are well aware - even from the scant details provided - who the victims must have been, and glossing over the perpetrators for the moment - of course she does - she tells them they're each to hold a meeting after lunch with all the girls from their Houses and make them aware of the potential threat.

"Obviously we can't rule out personal motivations. It may have been revenge for something those two did as Head Boy and Head Girl last year."

"Obviously," Severus grumbles. The sarcasm drips from his tongue, and he sits there trying to decide if there's a reproach buried in there somewhere that Draco and Miss Parkinson had held those positions at all. To be fair, Draco was still a better choice than Macmillan by far. Well, were one to disregard his periodically antisocial behaviour at any rate. That probably complicates the issue. Nevertheless, on balance, he was certainly no worse than James Potter in his day - although that's hardly a metric to strive for - and academically at least Draco's selection had been justified. Potter's had been pandering to old money and old blood lines, plain and simple.

Minerva continues without missing a beat, "We shouldn't like to blame the victims, but equally it's unclear as a result how much of a threat that actually poses to the other young witches in our care."

"Evidently," he agrees. Minerva ignores him nearly as successfully as she'd done before.

"Nevertheless it behooves us to let them know it's a possibility, regardless how unlikely. Perhaps we should emphasise that so as not to cause unnecessary alarm."

"Quite. Never that." His tone becomes increasingly clipped, and Minerva finally acknowledges it enough to roll her eyes.

"Clearly everyone knows who had duty last night," she raises her voice a little to speak over him, which, typically, deters him not at all.

"Clearly."

"Severus, please," she chides, unknowingly invoking two of his least favourite words in combination. Naturally that does nothing to improve his mood.

"To spare Miss Parkinson any embarrassment," she continues, "we're agreed it's best to avoid mentioning the precise time point of the attack and definitely to whom." The 'we' is most likely Minerva and Filius. Why they wouldn't consult the natural tactician at the table... But then he's growing accustomed to this sort of snub. "Just let them know a young woman has come forward with information that she was assaulted. While the assault was not sexual in nature," this time Severus' brow speaks for him, convenient, as once again... words... fail, "likewise we still felt it was important to let them know she hadn't felt safe from such a thing in that situation, and as we're certain the attack occurred and we couldn't discount the threat, we're putting everyone on alert. Common sense practices... Avoid being alone in the corridors late at night, wands at the ready, that sort of thing should do."

"So just like last year," Severus can't resist adding, and the others - save Longbottom - have the decency of appearing a little chagrined. He'd known full well they'd warned their students last year, thinking to protect them from him. He does feel a little better about the whole affair when he can needle them from time to time. He'll take his comfort where he can, ta.

"Yes, well..." Minerva is good enough to pink, and he smiles at her a mite smugly.

"But the eighth years will still be permitted out after curfew?" Pomona asks, not sounding entirely convinced.

"We're not rolling those privileges back. Let's see how it goes, and we can always change from there. It may have the added benefit of giving them something to lose that they'll fight for. It won't hurt to keep them motivated," certainly not now that they've lost much of their greatest leverage over the Ravenclaws in the form of House points anyway. "And perhaps that will help better keep them in line. As a result, we should be able to expect the eighth years to manage the younger students for us.

"Neville, I think it's best I speak to the Gryffindor girls," she continues as if her suggestion is the most obvious thing imaginable, "given the nature of the discussion and that you were only recently one of their housemates."

It's not that he wanted to speak to them, no, but... The Herbology apprentice is still trying to formulate his response - and it would have been nice if this hadn't all come as such a surprise, and he'd had a little time to prepare, or possibly if they'd met one on one; he shudders to imagine what Professor Snape must be thinking... - when Minerva wraps things up, "Well that's settled then. I'll announce a meeting in each of the respective House common rooms after lunch, and we'll see to it then." And with that she sweeps from the room to take her seat in the Great Hall, Pomona and Filius carried in her wake.

The displeasure on Longbottom's face is obvious to anyone who cares to notice - Minerva evidently couldn't be counted amongst them - and Severus considers for a moment, trying to work out if it's a sign of yet another impending apocalypse when he finds himself agreeing with the young Gryffindor. What have things come to?

Slytherin Dungeons

Unlike the other Heads of House - oh, and Minerva - Severus has his eight Prefects meet him after lunch in the Slytherin Practice Room before he speaks to the rest of his charges.

"I assume everyone here is aware of the events of last night?" All except Miss Parkinson nod; she's clearly still attempting to marshal her feelings. He can't blame her. "I'll preface this by saying I wasn't consulted as to the eighth years' privileges. There may still be an advantage to it in as much as people are... very... likely to draw the wrong conclusions - and for any resultant hurt, I'll apologise in advance - nevertheless I want you to know I don't feel this is an appropriate response to what happened to you." Draco nods in acknowledgment and Miss Parkinson finally mets his gaze. "It is not.

"Further, in light of this absurdity, not a one of you needs to continue doing rounds moving forward. Not ever again. If you feel anything less than safe, which may not be an imprudent reaction to the current situation, simply skip them. I'll write you any excuse required." Proud in their own right, and ambitious to a witchard, typically they don't seem convinced. Merlin's beard. "I can promise you won't have to relinquish your positions as Prefects," that much is certain, "and like as not it won't even go noticed to begin with," he fibs in conclusion, still hoping to win some of them over. Well Minerva is bloody well welcome to take any perceived 'dereliction of duty' up with him. He has quite a few choice things to say on the subject by this point.

Whatever else, his Prefects aren't idiots, and every single one of them knows that last bit just isn't true. It's difficult enough at present as a Slytherin to scrape together the credentials a good apprenticeship might require - that alone had been sufficient to see all still eligible eighth years return to the school, despite the restrictions - and none of them, including Draco and Pansy, are inclined to risk it. The sadly all too predictable result means they'll be continuing their rounds as before, and Severus now has several hours more work to do a week overseeing them, hang Minerva and her dreadful ideas.

"Do you have any questions?" No one asks a thing, busy as they are making their private calculations as to the inadvisability of accepting his offer. When they have a moment to speak with one another, it'll be a done deal, Severus can read that much even on their fairly stoic faces. "If that changes, feel free to come to me with them at a later date. You need only knock." They don't even bother mumbling in reply, all he receives are eight half-hearted nods.

Well he can't force them. Not legally anyway, he scoffs to himself.

"Let's speak to the others then, shall we?" Again unlike the other Heads, Severus had recognised Draco had been as much a target of the assault as Miss Parkinson was. He sees little point in excluding the boys from this conversation. Their safety needed to be considered as well. "Who knows what happened?" he asks his Prefects.

Ella Wilkins replies, "The eighth through fifth years all know, Sir. As we needed to inform the other Prefects anyway, we felt it best that the others in each of our years should know as well. They'd have only wondered why we were meeting at that hour anyway, and it would have given rise to speculation. As was, Draco and Pansy spoke to all of us last night."

He nods, approving. When they weren't busy falling for blood purity rubbish... Yes, well... Cauldron meet kettle. But his Snakelets really could be quite sensible. At any rate he's glad he isn't stuck herding a sack of Moggies. He'd spare a thought for Longbottom, but then Minerva had seen to it that wouldn't be necessary...

"And how accurately were they informed? Is there an official line you were hoping to preserve?" He pretends to scan the group, pausing fractionally when he reaches Draco, because there was always a chance the others couldn't answer that accurately. There's the subtlest of head shakes and he continues until he catches Miss Touchstone's eye as though she'd been his goal all along. He and Draco have sufficient practice - goodness knows the Dark Lo... Voldemort had provided enough occasion for it - that no one else registers the exchange.

"We told them everything. We thought it was for the best. Well... safest." Miss Touchstone now seems a little less sure.

"Quite right, it most certainly was. Well handled, the lot of you." They beam. Times are clearly difficult when that's all it takes. He sighs to himself. He's been too busy with his own expanded curriculum to have been much help on that front, and convalescing still takes its toll as well.

Seventh year Prefect Harper Hutchinson chimes in, better attuned than the other Prefects to the younger students thanks to his close relationship with his younger brother. Hunter had found out what happened along with the other fifth years, and he and the other boys had been... instrumental in passing the news on to their younger housemates. "I think by now it's safe to say everyone has heard at least something. This wasn't something to keep to ourselves. Depending on the motive for the attack..." he looks at Pansy and Draco apologetically, but he isn't wrong. They nod, almost as if giving their permission, and as though he'd waited for it, he then continues, "We don't know if it's random, personal, or directed at the House as a whole," the only thing they know is the Ravenclaws are going to bitterly regret this come their Quidditch match, if not sooner, "in which case the younger students are even more at risk."

"Well observed," he nods and leads the way from the room.

The rest of the House is already waiting for them in the common room, perched on the couches and tables, with the youngest sat on the floor. They slide over to make room for the Prefects in front of the fire where they arrange themselves in near identical, deliberately purposeful stances. Their personalities are sufficiently varied that such synchronised behaviour makes it almost certain they've coordinated their public response as well, bless.

"Everyone knows why we're here?" A virtual sea of desultory nods. Well, this is bleak. "Fine, I won't restate the facts. There's much we don't know, when that changes, you'll be updated." This year that might even be true; he sounds convincing at any rate. "In the meantime, common sense measures should prevail. Be smart, be wary. Try not to be out alone, particularly later in the evenings, but bear in mind, two eighth years were ambushed, and the company of a male classmate was not sufficient to ban the threat." Some of the fifth year boys start elbowing the witches next to them, focusing more on the implication a wizard might have made a difference than the fact that he hadn't.

Severus eyes them rather sternly and Wilfred Wilkes gulps. It's gratifying to know he can still achieve that, despite his infirmity, with nothing more than a glance. Just wait until he's fully recovered. "That's not to cast aspersions on the magic wielded by any of our witches," a few of the young women begin elbowing the boys back. Have at it, they clearly deserve it. "It's wise to recognise that psychologically the gender of a prospective target can make a difference to an assailant, and women and girls are often forced to prove themselves in situations that never arise for their male counterparts."

The potential immediate threat for the witches was always greater, and sadly that threat hadn't diminished with the end of the war. If anything, under Voldemort's rule, pure- and half-blood witches, at least, had been something of a protected class, and while that's far, so incredibly far, from any sort of vindication for the blood purity shite, that meant the young women in his care had nominally been safer last year, and not simply because it might be open season on Slytherins at the moment. He'll need to be mindful that none draw the wrong conclusions from that. Regrettably the perceived 'blood traitors' Miss Hestia Carrow and Miss Vaisey will likely be a help with that. They'd quite literally been thrown to the werewolves for their families' perceived sins.

Truth be told, non-trivial streaks of toxic masculinity meant the wizards were also more at risk both for increased incidence of violent duelling and pranking, to say nothing of recruitment to the typically right leaning ranks of groups such as the one that had followed Voldemort. Given how that tended to end, last year that should have been the bigger over all issue for a staff member free to act. (Yes, well he hadn't been, had he?) On the other hand, injury there was almost entirely self-inflicted within the group, making it difficult to always find the requisite patience and understanding to address it, and the personal stakes for wizards and witches remained vastly different, whether last year or this. For one group the threat was radicalisation, for the other it was victimisation; it could hardly be viewed as equal.

Well the boys didn't need yet another person belabouring their general idiocy. After the hearings, every last one of them should be very much aware. By now they'd been told by all and sundry how foolish they and seemingly everyone they'd ever known had been, they need only open the Prophet for a daily reminder, so hopefully that won't be a problem again any time soon. It remains to be seen.

"And further it's worth noting Malfoy is one of our best duellers." The fact is, Draco is their best, wands down. Living in an occupied Manor with Voldemort and his private army would have seen to that if his aunt hadn't. If it weren't for the Trace on his wand, things probably would have gone very differently last night. "Ultimately if they are willing and able to beset two eighth years, be assured two Firsties won't have much luck in a similar situation." There are a few frightened faces staring up at him, and while caution is good, excessive fear is not.

He tries to mitigate the threat; unfortunately the simplest way is to suggest a narrowed target pool, but Miss Parkinson and Draco will be keenly aware of it by now. "We need to acknowledge it may be retaliatory for last year, either in the specific, possibly for Malfoy and Miss Parkinson being Head Boy and Head Girl last year, or in general. Too many conflate our House with the war." The nods that greet that are even more desultory. Splendid. He sighs, he's not naturally very reassuring, and it takes a good deal of energy he just doesn't have in surplus right now. "Until we know it isn't a general threat, exercise caution."

"We're practising with the younger students as is, Sir," Miss Greengrass offers hopefully.

Severus nods, once again approving, "If you could increase that, possibly with a stronger focus on defense. How is that working with the Traces?"

Miss Wilkins answers, explaining, "We girls are taking over more of the practical tutoring work," which made sense as few of them had been subjected to the Trace, "and it's giving the boys a chance to practise without their wands," which may be an excellent idea, all considered.

Quite.

"But why would the Headmistress let the eighth years move around freely after curfew?" the younger Hutchinson now asks. His brother seems curious enough about that as well that he doesn't curtail the question, Severus can't help noticing. "Or does she know it wasn't them?"

Severus considers only briefly and then answers honestly. "I highly doubt the latter." To his knowledge, there's no spell that indicates a student's year. There'd been no need. He's not entirely convinced there'd be a need now either, were it not for this absurd new policy. And at any rate, she'd no way to apply it after the fact.

"So why do it?" Wilkes, one of the younger Hutchinson's roommates, adds.

'Rampant idiocy' seems an inappropriate answer, however accurate, so Severus tries a more... restrained approach. Knowing Minerva, it might even actually explain her motives. "Perception is half the battle. If you give the impression the school is safe, more people behave as if it is, and de facto it becomes safer." And of course that perception helps to keep the Ministry from interfering, to say nothing of the parents. Who needed the Howlers?

"Which is more likely to give rise to problems," he continues, "a single individual caught out in the library close to curfew, returning on their own to their House in deserted corridors, or large numbers of students coming and going?"

"The first one," one of the Firsties solemnly answers, not having grasped it was a rhetorical question. Two first years to either side begin giggling and elbowing him now in turn. When they can't Jinx - like in the Head's presence, say - the Snakes aren't above resorting to the physical.

"Quite right," Severus answers kindly; there's little point teaching them to fear speaking to him, too. "Do your best to look out for one another until we have a better idea what's at play here."

Written with oodles of love for lostangelsoul3.

"soaring part 6" by gingerbred

Chapter 06, hissing

Previously:

Sunday, 13 September, 1998

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