“beyond wandpoint” 095b by gingerbred

Mar 23, 2019 18:53

“11 12h Wednesday - In Action” Part 2

Severus (HoS) and Hermione, Seventh Years: Draco Malfoy, Theo Nott, Blaise Zabini, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Tracey Davis, Daphne Greengrass, Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode, Alberta Runcorn, Sixth Years: Harper Hutchinson, Ella Wilkins, Flora Carrow, Hestia Carrow, Others: Hunter Hutchinson, Wilfred Wilkes, the Bloody Baron, Portrait Headmaster Phineas Nigellus Black, Portrait Salazar Slytherin, Portrait Swaine Swoopstikes, Portrait Wilhelmina Wilkes, Mentioned: Aaron Avery, Tomasina Touchstone
Originally Published: 2018-10-28 on AO3
Chapter: 095 part 2

The original version of this chapter exceeded livejournal’s maximum post length. It’s been split in two parts.
Having finished their breakfasts, the girls return to the common room, their books in hand. It's nearly time to leave for class.

Professor Snape has reappeared in their absence and is now dealing with the Vince-couch conundrum. His hands Imperviused (just in case), his wand gripped firmly as he delicately directs a steady stream of the Universal Solvent in a thin spiral from its bottle through the air to the boundary between the boy's front and the dragon hide couch. The wings, or rather, their incessant movements, are making the job a good deal more complex, and the potion dodges and weaves its way, much like a living serpent, in between their flaps to reach its intended target. And to round out the picture, Vince is whinging up a storm. The myriad cuts and abrasions covering him probably aren't helping matters any. The girls get no further than the landing, stopping to stare at the sight.

It's something else.

Pansy's standing there at a safe distance, eating a pastie as she watches in rapt fascination. Gregory has slid back a little to provide the Professor room to work, but there's no sign of the others.

This goes on for a few moments more, and then with a final shuddering howl, coinciding with Severus' silent Finite Incantatem no one will ever hear about, Vince slides free of the couch and crashes to the floor. Gregory's scramble to get out of the way is only partially successful, and he ends up with a lap full of his friend. Unfortunately for Vince, Gregory was kneeling towards his feet and with nothing to cushion him - so oddly no one thought to cast a charm - his head crashes onto the flagstone floor.

Hard.

On the other hand, with his thick skull he probably doesn't notice. Much. And he has plenty of other things to take his mind off of that particular lump.

The cry, or maybe the crash, is enough to mobilise Millie, and she rushes forward only stopping shy of Vince when the Professor extends an arm barring her way. "I'd advise you to proceed with caution, Miss Bulstrode." That recommendation hangs in the air for a moment, and the girls have to wonder if he isn't trying to tell them something beyond the obvious here. By the time he - innocuously - continues, "You don't want to get any of... that on you," they've already decided he isn't warning them about the Solvent.

Three of the four take that as a warning to withdraw.

Millie is both generally less quick on the uptake, and more loyal to the boy in question. She immediately starts trying to tell the Head how she'd endeavoured to lift the Nail Polish Charm, and failed, and her thoughts about what sort of Hair Colouring Charm might have been used, not that she'd been able to lift that either, which would seem to indicate she was wrong. Severus puts up a hand to halt the recitation, "I believe Crabbe has quite enough going on. I wasn't about to address his superficial problems first." Millie pinks now ever so slightly at the rebuke, and she's usually not so bad about that.

Severus stands there quietly performing a Tergeo... to clean the couch.

"Uh, Professor," Gregory speaks up from underneath Vince, "does it matter that I got some of that on me?" He has to keep shifting to avoid the wings, and he now has some of the Solvent on his face and bare arms. He'll probably regret that later.

"Goyle, when we say students are required to wear robes, it may surprise you to learn we aren't referring to bathrobes. Your school robes would have provided more than adequate protection. As it is..." He shakes his head ruefully. It's unclear if that statement is true, but it's deflected nicely from the issue at hand.

"I tried telling him that, Professor," old Swoopstikes pipes up from the group portrait.

"It isn't time yet, Swaine," Headmaster Black objects from right next to him.

"Still, that's no way to run around," Swoopstikes grumbles.

"Oh, I think there's been unusually little running as a whole this morning," Wilhelmina Wilkes quips as she leans over to examine the chessboard and then claims one of Phineas' pieces with a smirk.

"Particularly from the ones lying about on the floor," Salazar adds. "You. Boy." He barks at Crabbe who lies there groaning and flapping and largely unimpressed, "I've told you about that before. It's undignified. Not befitting your House."

"Too right," Phineas agrees, but sounds amused, despite the troublesome loss of his bishop.

"So should I maybe try showering it off?" Gregory tries again.

"I fear it's a little late for that," Severus jibes, "and it won't help any more than a Cleansing Charm would. You didn't think to cast an Impervius?" Goyle's face falls immediately in answer to that. "The circumstances clearly called for one," he further rubs salt in the wound. "Very well," He waves his wand and performs a Cleansing Charm, and then because he can't quite leave well enough alone, waves it again and performs the Freshening Charm. The one that makes a person's hair go...

Floof.

Goyle looks like a Puffskein.

Quite.

It transpires, when it isn't being applied to him, Severus rather likes the Charm. Miss Granger might be on to something. A couple of the witches present begin tittering behind him and several of the portraits laugh. He can't blame them. He keeps his face straight, lastly this is serious business, and he has a reputation to maintain. But he may just have memorised the sight for later.

"Alright, Goyle. That's you sorted. You have first period free, is that correct?"

"Yes, Sir." He's still a little winded from the Charm and trying to slick his hair back down. Anyone present could tell him it's a lost cause. When it comes right down to it, intent makes all the difference when casting a spell, and that particular Freshening Charm had packed... quite a wallop.

"Fine. Do try to get Crabbe cleaned up as well as you can, and then go get dressed. You'll need to run an errand for me, so be quick about it. I find myself forced to fetch your hebetudinous roommates. Apparently they require a personal... summons to join us this morning. I strongly suggest that you not keep me similarly waiting."

Goyle looks like that's the furthest thing from his mind. Much like rational though in general at this point.

After consulting with Slinky from his other portrait on one of the Great Staircase landings, Salazar now attempts to demonstrate his superior grasp of the situation. "Professor. Professor! It's almost time for everyone to leave for classes. Shall we send for someone to take over?"

"I appreciate the offer, Salazar. Most generous," Severus responds, well aware of the time. He can cast a Tempus after all, and has one set. "But we have matters well in hand."

Vince is inclined to disagree, but can't seem to find the energy to say so.

"Miss Greengrass, Miss Davis, I believe you have Charms first period?"

Tracey nods, and Daphne replies, "Yes, Sir."

"May I prevail upon you to stop by my chambers en route and notify my wife that I won't be returning before class? Please tell her not to wait for me." There are a few blinks at that, but not a single snicker. Not one. And for just that reason, Severus vastly prefers dealing with Snakes to any other House. If there weren't that nontrivial matter of the House being a training ground for junior Death Eaters, he might almost find it downright pleasant. Not that it compensates for all the hours he spends instructing the dunderheaded, but still...

"Of course, Sir," Tracey quickly agrees.

"We'd be happy to," Daphne adds.

As a good number of the seventh years haven't gone to breakfast and are still in the dungeons, and a whopping eight of them in total are in Hermione's Charms class, Severus has just arranged for an escort of sorts for Miss Granger. At least he hopes she'll be clever enough to recognise it as such. With Gryffindors, one never knows.

Severus doesn't bother knocking before he enters the seventh year boys' room. They should both be dressed and prepared to leave or they'll have much greater problems to worry about than a lack of privacy. As though anyone had privacy within the school. There's certainly none in the dorms...

Theo makes a noise that sounds like one of Miss Granger's squeaks. It's fitting in a guinea pig. It's... odd in a witch. It's frankly ludicrous in a nearly eighteen year old young man.

Who now leaps back from the door.

Gangly boy, Nott. That gangliness doesn't precisely lend itself to such leaps.

"On the off chance either of you are labouring under the delusion that I possess a sense of humour, I thought I should clarify for you both that I was absolutely serious about not excusing you from classes. Would you care to tell me just what seems to be causing the delay?"

Both boys begin stuttering excuses, and Severus extends a hand, fingers spread, silencing them immediately. He didn't even need a Spell for that. They stand there blinking. "Never mind. I don't want to hear it." It only disconcerts them further. There is a bit of sport to be had in it, and it's rather to Severus' tastes. He takes his fun where he can these days.

If Theo was feeling nervy to begin with, the gimlet eye Severus now fixes him with nearly reduces him to a puddle. Severus doesn't find it completely disagreeable, but perhaps it wasn't the best of approaches to coax him out of his room.

With some annoyance, he reaches into his pocket and somewhat grudgingly withdraws two phials of Pain-Relief. Had Zabini not been watching him like a hawk, he'd probably have left them there before. The boys are dragging, no one could miss it, and he doesn't need people asking questions. Affairs of the House are generally best kept private.

Generally.

He tries not to think about letting Argus publicly flog the lot of them... And then he tries even harder to remember to take Nott out of the generalisation. It's proving difficult. It's probably his father's fault.

They're surprised, naturally, and not quite willing to believe Severus intends the Pain-Relieving Potions for them until he hands one to each. "From my private stores." When they stand there gawping, he continues, "What, shall we tell everyone you were celebrating my nuptials? Take them and get moving. I won't say it again." He stands there holding the door open, indicating he expects them to leave before he will.

It doesn't seem the sort of invitation one can refuse. Both boys quaff the Potions, Severus twitches a couple of fingers, and the phials are Banished; it's as though it never happened. A little uncertainly, they file out past him into the corridor.

"Thank you, Sir." Theo starts. Severus nods gruffly. He's far from done with the boys, they shouldn't kid themselves otherwise. "I wanted to say how sorry I am..." Nott continues tentatively.

Severus interrupts him, "I don't need your apologies, Nott. I demand your cooperation. I fully expect..." It's as far as he gets, they haven't even reached the stairs when a blood curdling scream wafts up from the common room.

Not unreasonably, both boys look rather concerned. Severus savours the moment. "Presumably Crabbe," he explains calmly as the boys race for the steps. Of course that doesn't begin to prepare them for what they see when they reach the common room.

Vince has had that effect on everyone this morning.

Currently, he's crouched on all fours, panting on the ground, his clothes in tatters and his wings flapping up a storm as Gregory tries to apply some cleaning charms to him.

It might have helped, however, had someone told Goyle that Scourgifies are for cleaning pot and pans and not one's roommates. Regrettably, no one bothers to tell him that now either.

"For fuck's sake, Gregory!" Millie shouts at him. "Er, I mean..." She's at a loss. She has no idea how to politely phrase that.

"Language," Pansy drawls. "But I can sort of see your point, Millie. Nimue's knickers, Gregory."

Oh, right. Yes. That.

"Goyle, you never cease to amaze. I asked you to clean him, not scour him. I'll take it from here. Go get dressed." Looking suitably chastised and now sporting a noticeable rash on his face and hands, Gregory beats a hasty retreat back up the way the others had just come.

"Miss Parkinson, Miss Bulstrode I believe it's time you were on your way to class. Malfoy, Nott, will I need to speak to you later?"

"No, Sir." They're both quick to reply, almost as one voice. Severus likes that.

"See that it stays that way," he tells them as a Parthian shot. The four head towards the corridor leading out of the dungeons, but they frequently cast looks back over their shoulders, it's difficult - especially for the boys - to tear their eyes off of Vince.

"What on earth happened to him?" Draco asks, not exactly wisely.

"Why, I imagine it was a complication from the Serpent, don't you, Millie?" Pansy answers rather coolly. "Or do you mean to say he wasn't deserving as well?"

Draco reaches out to grab Theo's arm to hold him back and allow the witches to get a little ahead of them.

This does not bode well for him.

Hermione has finished tidying up and put everything back to rights. Belatedly it occurs to her that if she has to Banish their breakfast trays back to the Hogwarts kitchens, she could just as easily have done so with the dishes before she washed them.

Well.

It may not have been efficient, but she'd just felt the need to do something...

And it's done now.

She sets out food for Crooks, who still refuses to leave the comfort of her new bed. Lazy thing. Thinking of the half-Kneazle, her thoughts soon turn to his fur. She looks at the bowl in which she's collecting it, and feels just a little disappointed that the Professor hadn't noticed the charm working. It had been silly, really, the emphasis she'd placed on it.

But there again... She'd just wanted to accomplish something.

And she had.

It may not be much, but she's proud of it. She was set a challenge, something she wasn't sure could be solved, and she'd kept researching until she found the answer. It's her strength, after all. She doesn't quit until she finds the answer.

Even if it is just about how to keep half-Kneazles from shedding all over.

She looks at the ring on her finger and thinks about the questions she has as about her bond and her defective Loyalty Vow, the answers she's seeking there. And then worries if she could be banned from the library entirely after yesterday...

Neville should be the only one who knows what happened, and she trusts him implicitly. He's not the sort that will feel the need to tell everyone in the Great Hall about how something went 'boom'. Her secret should be safe.

Speaking of proud... She could swear the Professor is. She listens to the bond more intently.

Proud and highly amused.

She'd love to know what that's about. She closes her eyes and tries to listen to the not-wards again, because it can't be the wards anymore as he's left them (and she can feel that too, it feels like... like a shame). But if she tries, she thinks she could say the Professor is to the right of their front door and further into the lake than she is. She's not sure where the dungeons wrap around to, but she feels like she could point to his position. She doesn't think he's far away.

Unless she's very wrong.

She should probably test that with a verifiable location next.

She curls up on the window seat again, enjoying the view of the lake - it's truly beautiful - enjoying the silence of their chambers and reading up for Charms. She's covered the material before, but it never hurts to refresh her memory. Or to read a little further ahead.

The Squid, a little disappointingly, doesn't see fit to buzz their windows again. She was hoping to get a little practice in at not jumping when he does that. She assumes he's just waiting until there's an audience to her embarrassment. And then she wonders if Crooks or Sunny would do, or if it only counts if the Professor's there to see her... squeak.

She busies herself with her Charms text until the wards once again alert her that someone isn't just going past, and soon enough there's another knock on the door.

She nearly jumps from her seat and runs to answer it, reflexively checking the wards, and making a bet with herself that she'll find two people standing there when she opens it.

She's so busy focusing on that, that it doesn't occur to her to wonder which two people or if she even should open the door to them. Without a second thought she throws it wide, and only after doing so does it occur to her that while the wards would keep anyone from entering, she has no reason to assume the right sort of spell can't pass right through them. She may need to ask the Professor about that.

But Hermione's luck seems to be changing.

Once again, it's neither someone to attack or even harass her.

"Hi, Hermione!"

It's Daphne.

With the largest imaginable smile on her face.

That she seems to feel the need to accompany with an energetic little wave.

The more Greengrass smiles, the more Davis, standing beside her, seems to squirm, as though the brunette's joy sucks all the equanimity out of her. That's probably not far off.

"Oh, um, hi, Daphne."

"Madam Snape." Tracey adds, or possibly corrects, trying to keep Daph's natural enthusiasm in check. It shouldn't be easy. Of course, right now she's also battling to conceal her surprise at Madam Snape's get up. She's in a fitted white blouse, with the top several buttons open, and a non-regulation Slytherin green skirt - which she doesn't even want to try to explain - with no sign of a House tie or school robes.

And the witch is a Prefect.

Daphne, quite naturally, takes it more in stride.

"Davis." Hermione bobs her head in greeting. "Is my help needed after all?" She asks rather hopefully.

Neither of the Slytherins knows what she means, but Daphne recovers first. "Professor Snape asked us to let you know that he won't be returning before class. He said not to wait for him."

Hermione stands there nibbling her lip and considering that for a moment. She hadn't expected him to return, well, not unless whatever the problem was had been easily and quickly sorted. It seemed unlikely. By this time, it wouldn't have made sense to return to chambers first; he'd probably have gone straight to his classroom... And she was hardly waiting for him... Which means he was trying to tell her something different...

She remains there thinking it through, her efforts visible as she does so, but Daphne is a very good natured person and she waits there patiently for Hermione to work out... whatever it is. Tracey, intrinsically less good natured, just stands - somewhat less patiently - by her friend.

Fearing Madam Snape won't come to the proper conclusion or at least not in a timely fashion, the Bloody Baron fades silently into sight behind the two girls. With the flat of his hand, he gestures silently at the Head's wife, the young Slytherins and then up the hallway before bowing and fading out of sight again.

Even for an Estray, it should surely do the trick, should it not?

Hermione keeps getting the feeling she should be listening to the ghost and portraits more. Of course it might help in general if they were just the tiniest bit more forthcoming... It's not like they couldn't speak.

As Hermione's focus shifts behind them, Daphne and Tracey simply assume her thoughts have turned inwards, perhaps remembering or recognising something, although Tracey's secretly more inclined to take it for wind. Close enough. The hallway had quite evidently been empty when they arrived, and ghosts just aren't often taken into consideration in their daily lives.

That's likely to change.

Of course, it helps that Madam Snape is a Moggie, and they aren't expected to be the brightest Lumoses or make any great deal of sense. Tracey isn't even trying to figure her out at this point.

It occurs to Hermione that by sending Greengrass... Daphne and Davis to let her know he wouldn't be returning, the Professor has arranged to have two of the other young women in her Charms class stop by... She imagines it isn't a coincidence.

And the Baron wasn't entirely subtle. She tries not to picture where that logically must eventually end (and fails), with him semaphoring her through the castle, or what he must think of her to resort to such measures. And then she has to pretend she'd reached her conclusion before he appeared so those measures wouldn't have been warranted. None of which is embarrassing in the least...

"You're headed to Charms?" Hermione asks, pro forma. Daphne nods, pleased that Hermione is finally... unstuck; Tracey had begun to fidget. "Would you mind if I walk with you?"

Tracey blinks once and doesn't even have time to properly consider if it's a good plan or not - yesterday's trip to Herbology had certainly given her some things to think about - when Daphne cheerily answers for the both of them. "Not at all, we'd be pleased for the company." And now Tracey just tries to tell herself this must be part and parcel of helping the Professor with his Protection Vow.

Somehow she hadn't pictured it quite like... this.

"Great. Just let me get my books." Hermione answers. Tracey gives her a rather pointed look at her clothes - because books are most definitely not all the witch needs - but still doesn't say anything as Madam Snape takes a step back behind the Privacy Barrier. This is Daphne's project. Let her sort it.

And on consideration, it was probably better than Fwoopers. If only slightly.

Hermione Summons her bag and takes a phial of Draught of Peace. It's probably for the best if it's not widely known she's resorting to that, or it defeats the point. A Finite Incantatem on her Transfiguration soon has her skirt back to the regulation uniform issue; the buttons of her blouse are quickly done. She Summons her school robes, slips them over her clothes, pulls her tie from her pocket, and fixes it in place around her neck. Her books follow suit next, flying into her extended hand, and not two minutes later she's closing the door behind her and they're on their way.

She is a witch, now isn't she?

They walk in silence initially; it's somehow awkward. The Slytherins don't feel it would be right to continue their conversation about Vince with the Gryffindor, and Hermione isn't sure what to talk about with them in turn.

Unsurprisingly, Daphne is the one to break the ice first. Equally unsurprisingly, at least for those who know her even only marginally, when she does so, she starts by bringing up Fwoopers. Tracey manages not to groan, but only just. House pride is involved. Daphne tells Hermione just how sorry she was to have missed the conversation she had had with Theo yesterday about Transfiguration. She's still frightfully keen to Transfigure a Fwooper without its maddening call.

Tracey begins mentally reciting potions ingredients. She finds it helps to keep her calm.

But Daphne is sort of a natural at this, and she soon has Hermione deep in a discussion about how realistic the set of behaviours of a Transfigured life form have to be, given it isn't actually alive. "Although I liked your idea about Dynamic Charms. I think that has great promise. I was talking to Theo about that yesterday evening, too."

It's a topic she'd be interested in pursuing anyway, but it does double duty. Daphne pays close attention and doesn't miss that Hermione doesn't flinch in the least at the mentions of Theo. Daph can't help thinking there's some terrible significance to the fact the Muggle-born witches were bonded, that the boys are possibly somehow at fault for it, and she's more than passing worried about Theo's response to women in the boys' dorms. She's relieved to note that whatever it was that happened, it doesn't seem to have involved Hermione. At least, not beyond causing her to bond Professor Snape, anyway.

Which is clearly a very significant thing, naturally, bonding and all that, but at least it's nothing horrific.

"Well the Transfigured animals aren't sentient. Gamp's laws assure us of that," Hermione tries bringing up Gamp, and is pleased to see it doesn't put an end to the conversation. Quite the contrary. It helps combat her latent fear that previous responses might have been a function of who mentions it. Perhaps it just comes down to the company in which one does so...

"But they are very convincing," Daphne insists.

"It's like an interactive screensaver." That's logically met with a blank stare, and it occurs to Hermione she probably has no prayer of explaining that one. "Rotten example, sorry. Basically it's something that isn't sentient, but conceivably looks or behaves convincingly so. But it's only following a set of predefined behaviours. My mum has... had one with fish that follow your cursor."

"And no one called the Aurors?"

"Why would they... Oh, no, a 'cursor' has nothing to do with curses."

"That seems counterintuitive," Tracey grumbles, silently hoping the Fwooper phase of the conversation is over, but not certain that talking about Muggles represents an actual improvement. With luck, no one will overhear them.

"Well, Muggles don't think about cursing much. I mean in terms of Spells. They naturally do a fair amount of cursing. Frequently at cursors, come to think of it..." She can't help remembering her father trying to do his tax return on their home computer and the rather... colourful language that had accompanied the undertaking. Her mum had had to take over before he did himself a mischief.

"But the point is it's all about behaving within predefined parameters," she wraps it up.

"So why can't we change the definition?" Daphne smiles. "If you're doing a Transfiguration like that, and it's not a real Fwooper anyway, but only a facsimile of one, why couldn't you change the properties?"

"You know when you put it like that, I don't really know..."

"It's probably closely linked to intent, and that's undoubtedly easier when the result is a known." Tracey contributes, apparently not completely disinterested in the magic behind it. "Conceivably if you applied advanced Arithmancy to help limit the possible outcomes, you might have a chance."

"I guess maybe you could, but I can't imagine it would be easy," Hermione finds herself cautiously agreeing.

Daphne gives her a broad grin, "I didn't say it had to be easy. I just want to know if it's possible."

Hermione can't help thinking that's a sentiment she can understand only too well.

potterverse, alberta runcorn, hermione granger / severus snape, snapes’ chambers, millicent bulstrode, theo nott, draco malfoy, pansy parkinson, hunter hutchinson, portrait phineas nigellus black, flora carrow, fanfic, the bloody baron, portrait salazar slytherin, vincent crabbe, slytherins being slytherins, tracey davis, blaise zabini, portrait wilhelmina wilkes, tomasina touchstone, hermione granger, daphne greengrass, hestia carrow, slytherin dungeons, ss/hg, harper hutchinson, snamione, severus snape, portrait swaine swoopstikes, gregory goyle, ella wilkins, wilfred wilkes, aaron avery

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