“beyond wandpoint” 098b by gingerbred
“beyond wandpoint” 098b by gingerbred
“11 12k Wednesday - Lunch at the Castle 1” Part 2
Severus Snape, Hermione Granger, Staff: Filius Flitwick, Sybill Trelawney, Professor Sarah Sapworthy, Professor Barrymore Beckford, Irma Pince, Hagrid, Septima Vector, Pomona Sprout, Slytherins: Draco Malfoy, Theo Nott, Blaise Zabini, Daphne Greengrass, Tracey Davis, Pansy Parkinson, Torsten Touchstone, Ella Wilkins, Flora Carrow, Tomasina Touchstone, Hunter Hutchinson, Gryffindors: Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, Fay Dunbar, Georgina Smith, Dhanesh Devi, Kiera Kilkenny Devi, Kevin Peterson, Ravenclaws: Robert Knox, Stewart Ackerly, David Chang Others: the Bloody Baron, Sunny, Slinky, House of Slytherin elves, Hogwarts' Kitchen Elves
Mentioned briefly: Staff: Albus Dumbledore, Slytherins: Gregory Goyle, Vincent Crabbe, Millicent Bulstrode, Harper Hutchinson, Aaron Avery, Sheldon Shafiq, Hestia Carrow, Valerie 'Val' Vaisey, Róisín Rosier, Wilfred Wilkes Gryffindors: Fred and George Weasley Ravenclaws: Morag MacDougal, Hufflepuffs: Megan Jones, Leanne Moon, Salome Perks Smith, Hannah Abbott, Newton Kurz, Others: Portrait Phineas Nigellus Black, Flighty
Originally Published: 2018-11-11 on AO3
Chapter: 098 part 2
The original version of this chapter exceeded livejournal’s maximum post length. It’s been split in two parts.
At the Gryffindor table, Fay and Georgina, who take Muggle Music with Megan Jones, report to their friends that the Muggle-born has left the school. Midterm. There's initial disbelief and some discussion, Fred and George are instantly mentioned by several as proof that such a thing might happen, but it's not until Lav and Parvati join them and confirm the rumours that anyone seems inclined to actually believe them. They seemed so far fetched.
Lav goes further and expands on the other girls' story with the information that the family is leaving the country for Canada. (One of the fourth year boys asks where that is and, typically, suffers much mocking, not that so many of the others are entirely sure either. Also all too typically.) Parvati confirms Lav's tale, telling them how they'd heard about it in Xylomancy. Professor Sapworthy had been so kind as to cast the twigs for Jones.
"And how did that go, with her gone..." Kev's still trying to poke holes in their story.
"In absentia, clearly." Lavender puts the muppeting fifth year in his proper place.
"Seriously, Kev," Parvati agrees.
And then everything shifts and grows terribly sombre as Kiera tells the group in low tones that the reason the Headmaster had encouraged the bondings was because a student had been attacked last weekend. That's met with all of the usual disbelief and discussion, which Dhanesh quickly quashes.
"It's true," his tone is emphatic and discourages further debate. (He's somewhat easier to take more seriously without his tail.) "Our understanding was that it was a Muggle-born..." Kiera nods her agreement as the others look horror-struck.
A more analytical and cynical person might wonder if their likelihood of accepting something as truth increases if the gender of the individual asserting it is male. Of course, that person is currently no longer taking meals in the Great Hall, and as such isn't tempted to wonder that. Silver linings.
(The answer, sadly enough, is it does, although it's unwarranted. Intriguingly, careful analysis would also reveal that that willingness happens to decrease again if the individuals asserting things play Quidditch for the House team. It transpires that prejudice is more justified.)
There will be a lot of discussion, one or two will ask if it could have been Hermione - she's not there, and they feel free to discuss her in her absence (honestly, her presence probably wouldn't have dissuaded them much either) - except she'd been in the Infirmary all weekend, so that seems unlikely. And, really, pulling the Jones girl from school seems such a radical step. Surely something serious must have taken place for that to happen in her final N.E.W.T.s year.
Of course, they aren't the only ones thinking about Hermione.
Slinky pops into the kitchens at the beginning of the meal, desperate to meet two goals.
The first is simple, or reasonably so anyway, which is lucky as he's duty and honour bound to address it first. He finds the food meant for the Snakes and watches as it's Banished to their table; he can't interfere yet without running the risk of dosing much of the House. Next he Apparates silently - and invisibly, of course; he'd never have the poor taste to do so silently if visible, unlike some - to the Great Hall behind the Malfoy's and the Zabini's seats. Using fairly straightforward magic, he proceeds to add the Saltpeter to their meals with another simple Depulso. Too easy, really. That is until he registers that the Crabbe is apparently absent, and he fears he needs to scour the castle to try to find where the bothersome boy has gone.
Resigned to that being a more difficult chore, he returns to the kitchens and calls for assistance. His timing is wretched, as the elves are just in the process of trying to get lunch on the tables. They're not best pleased when he explains he'd like as many as possible to drop what they're doing and come to his aid. The 'what' is simple enough, he requires their help to find a missing piece of his uniform. The 'why', however, proves a sticky wicket, and his explanation is found extremely wanting. Without that, he's completely unable to convey the urgency of the mission.
Of course, if he had, they'd probably be inclined to think it serves him right.
Winky, refusing to listen to him properly, simply mends his uniform in a bid for acceptance; sadly, the stink of Butterbeer on her breath all but precludes it, even if her status as a free elf hadn't already done so. And to Slinky's frustration, the sight of his repaired towel causes the remainder of the elves to turn away. Problem clearly solved. He tries again to explain he needs their help, now, but can only manage to get them to agree to assisting him after the meal.
Finally he gives up on convincing them otherwise, returns to the Slytherin elves' quarters and calls for his team. They appear quickly, not busy with the food preparation as the others are, the cleaning in the dorms mostly finished for the day, and only the laundry remaining. It's a small team, at four strong a mere fraction of the kitchen staff's number, but loyal, and they'll do as he asks and help him search for the bit of his uniform, at least until the others can join them. It gets him a jump on the task, and is clearly preferable to waiting, although he now has a little difficulty conveying what the scrap looked like as his towel is repaired.
Winky is never not a nuisance.
While he's at it, Slinky also asks the others to help him try to find the Crabbe.
They begin by searching all the places the Head is regularly known to frequent. All except his currently warded office, classroom and quarters, that is. Sunny is probably the only one of them who would have access to those areas, and Slinky imagines asking him for help is tantamount to leaving the telltale scrap where it is if it were in any of those locations. He'll just report back to the Professor anyway.
Thinking it over, however, Slinky decides it's unlikely to be there. Had he left something threatening behind in the office, the Head would scarcely wish to Banish the object behind the safety of his wards... No, he thinks it's far more probable that it will be somewhere public that the Head visits regularly.
The ability to lurk unseen in the presence of the students eventually leads to the solutions to both of his problems. The elves discover the scrap of his uniform in the Great Hall, strangely at the end of the Gryffindors' table. And while pouring through the room searching for it, they happen to overhear some of the little Snakes mention that the Crabbe is in the Infirmary.
Slinky wastes no time visiting with his jar of Saltpeter.
Attendance at lunch is poor amongst the older Slytherins. Nearly half of them are missing. Still more will leave soon.
Sixth years Harper, Sheldon and Aaron had headed straight for the pitch where Millie, Hestia, and Val are surprised to discover them when they arrive there shortly after. The coincidence proves fortuitous - they're agreed, great minds think alike - and soon the six Housemates begin what will become the first in a daily series of strenuous Quidditch practices. They have nearly enough people to make a team themselves, and the Seeker's role has always been a solitary one anyway. The reserve players are really put through their paces for once, which proves just as well, as some of their regular teammates won't be up for practice this afternoon.
Tracey and Flora, as the witches present in the Great Hall well know - but wouldn't dream of mentioning - are brewing Pain Relief in the dorms.
And Vince, unsurprisingly, is still in the Infirmary, a fact which is a source of no small measure of pride for a number of the boys.
As none of the of the Slytherins are in Muggle Music first period, obviously, Pansy and Blaise were the first of their House to learn that Jones, one of the Muggle-born Hufflepuffs, has pulled out of school. They're just coming from Xylomancy, where Moon had asked Professor Sapworthy to cast the twigs for Jones, to see how she'd fare in her new home abroad. Sapworthy had predicted the move would be fraught with difficulties, and argument ensues as to whether or not that isn't true almost by definition - moving house is rarely easy - and how the blazes would they ever know either way. Blaise cheerily reminds the others about Sapworthy's prediction only yesterday about the 'three little snakes bringing' someone 'to his knees'.
Draco is about to groan again at the recollection, Merlin knows his bollocks still hurt, when he notices Blaise changed the prophecy somewhat in the retelling. Smirking, he asks, "Wasn't that 'the biggest snake' in the original version?" Thinking of his bollocks has that smirk taking on a decidedly disreputable air.
Blaise gives him a sour look, and Draco will soon have reason to regret his smugness. The seventh year boys are far from popular right now, and the combination of witnessing his self-importance and a fundamental, and all too universal, human desire to wipe the smug look off his face will have some of his younger Housemates turning their attention in his direction in the near future. If their work with Vince was any indication, that's hardly a desirable goal.
Pansy is quick to agree with Draco's claim, eager as always to encourage others to recognise the Hogwarts Seers' talents. But half the House are no longer listening anyway, having moved on to speculating as to why the Hufflepuff would have exmatriculated.
"That's precisely what Professor Sapworthy said," Pansy confirms. "She Saw 'three little snakes bringing the biggest snake of them all to his knees...'" She shrugs a little apologetically towards Draco (they were his knees after all, and his bollocks, for that matter), and then Blaise, who now looks even more cross (because Draco must absolutely always be the centre of attention), before it occurs to her that the exciting news and the boys' suffering yesterday in no way changes anything and she's still quite mad at them both. Hang it all.
This will take some adjusting.
She's finding it harder to stay angry when she's angry on someone else's behalf.
Turning her back towards them, she spots Theo, who seems to be going increasingly green about the gills. He'd been pushing his food idly about his plate, apparently having lost all appetite. That's probably a good thing, though, as he looks about ready to lose his lunch.
As if in confirmation of that thought, Theo suddenly leaps from his seat, and without even a word of apology makes a wild scramble for the loo.
Pansy hasn't the foggiest. And it's only Theo anyway. It's hardly worth worrying about. She turns back to her meal and the discussion of Seers, having less interest for the musings as to Muggle-borns' families' motives for... anything really. That strikes her as another waste of effort.
Draco notices Theo freaking and can well imagine why. Circe's left tit.
He sighs.
The problem here, of course, is that he really can't say anything to his friend to clear this up. And he's not actually sure he should. What was he supposed to do? Tell him they'd attacked Granger? Well, he can't and it wouldn't have helped. Honestly, considering how Theo's been behaving, it might be better to let him think what he's thinking as opposed to continuing to look at Granger/Snape or MacDougall as he's been doing today.
This might just be a blessing in disguise.
He sits there thoughtfully eating his meal as he watches Theo bolt from the room. It has the side effect of causing him to miss Pansy's change in behaviour again. But then he's sure to notice it soon enough.
Daphne is exceptionally quiet at the news about Jones, joining in neither of the discussions it sparks. Theo's mad dash from the Hall has her worried. Very worried. Not about him, obviously, not beyond how he's doing, although that appears to be something worth worrying about... For a brief moment she considers following him until Torsten arrives asking, "What's with Theo? Was there something wrong with his lunch? Wizard's in the lav chundering up a storm."
At this, Draco rises after all, grabs Theo's books and goes to see to his friend.
Róisín is quick to admonish Torsten for the graphic description, "I swear you're more disgusting than a Flobberworm, Tor. We're eating here." His sister Tomasina grins at the rebuke until Róisín continues, "Were you raised by wolves?"
That naturally gives rise to some bickering between the Touchstones - presenting a united front just the once - and Róisín, take that back, there's never been a lycanthrope in the family's history and I'm sure I didn't mean to imply there was, and Daphne studiously ignores them as she does all the others.
Well, there's little point in trying to follow Theo into the gents'.
But Daph's fears as to what the boys might have done, or at least to whom, are beginning to crystallise. To get more information about this, she'll presumably need to go outside of the House. That's never easy. She deliberates which of the Hufflepuffs are most likely to be able to help her, and then which of those might actually be willing.
She'd had Jones in only two of her classes. Moon, who was apparently pretty close to Jones from what Pansy tells of the girl's reaction in Xylomancy, is in three of Daphne's classes. But she can't imagine the girl will welcome enquiries from her... She's more likely to think the Slytherin is trying to rub salt in the wound. Daph thinks her best bet might be to try asking Abbott, who sits with her in six of her seven courses. Which isn't to say they know each other well... That's sort of the problem with other Houses.
There's a brief flicker of relief - that she absolutely hates herself for feeling - that if something had to happen to someone, at least it wasn't Hermione or MacDougal. She has them in four and three of her classes respectively. By that token, Perks, Madam Smith is only in one of her classes, and seems a fairly unpleasant sort... And Daph now is mortified that thought ever even began to cross her mind, because she's perfectly capable of filling in her own blanks, thank you so much.
Merlin.
She's becoming a horrible person.
She sits there blinking uncomfortably for a minute or two, trying not to think a whole bunch of things, none of which she can do anything about anyway. She looks forward to being an adult with more control over her world, and then darkly wonders if that's even true. She takes a good look at her classmates and asks herself how much control any of them are likely to have over their futures.
She's having trouble shaking herself out of it.
Fwoopers.
Fwoopers. Fwoopers. Fwoopers.
Fwoopers and fairy wings.
And then she needs to try not thinking about why Vince is sporting those wings. How did everything get so bad? And when?
Ella, fortunately, pulls her out of her uncharacteristically gloomy thoughts, which is lucky indeed, because Daph just isn't built for this sort of thing. She really isn't.
The two girls had intended to leave the meal early to make a quick trip to the library to coordinate who will examine which sections as part of their search for books on bonding. Daphne has the next period free, but Ella doesn't, and they want to be sure not to cover the same ground, so it needs to be done in advance.
Ella informs the seventh year she'll be leaving earlier yet, however, as she plans to take food to the three boys currently practising. "Harper had asked me if I'd mind, and if they're missing out on lunch to practise, really it seemed the least I could do. But you and I can still meet in the library afterwards.
"I was thinking of making a picnic of it and watching them play." She glances at the others around them and whispers, "The company's better, anyway."
"What, sitting all by yourself in the stands?" Daph then looks at Pansy trying to ignore Blaise, and Gregory sort of off by himself and sighs. "You might be right at that." She gives it a moment of thought and asks, "Were you planning on taking lunch for the girls, too?"
"Which girls?"
"Hunter said Millie and the other girls were going to be practising, it's why he brought her breakfast, so they must be out there as well." A quick look about the table confirms they aren't here, at least. It's funny that Daphne describes the girls that way, and reveals her superficial interest in the game. As the female sixth year players are regular teammates, and Millie's only a reserve Beater, most of their House would have mentioned Hestia and Val by name instead. But then again, Millie is her roommate.
"I thought that was just about them missing breakfast."
"In general, yes, but I think Millie's case was what sparked the idea. If you wouldn't mind the company, Ella, I'd be happy to join you," Daphne volunteers.
"Are you kidding? Of course not," she readily agrees, and the girls begin packing a picnic lunch for what they'll soon come to think of as the Reserve team.
Blaise spots them about to leave and calls out, "I say, Ella, wait a moment." Harper hasn't put in an appearance, and she's his best shot at a quick response. Well, unless he asks Hunter, but he's not exactly sold on consulting a fourth year.
Which won't stop the aforementioned fourth year from listening in and offering his two Knuts.
Not that Blaise seriously believes this is a problem, but Ella is sitting... standing right there, she usually knows her way around legal questions, and it seems a shame not to just ask her. And if she doesn't know, he is a bit loath to admit it, but both Hutchinsons often do. That's a natural advantage to having solicitors in the family and listening at the dinner table, he supposes. Both families have only the one parent. In Ella's case, her mother serves on the Wizengamot, and the Hutchinson's father is a solicitor. These days he works as a prosecutor, although rumour has it that's not going well. Blaise isn't aware of the details. He's really never cared.
"Maybe you'll know the answer. I had a letter from my mother," he starts and a few give him curious looks, because he obviously hadn't, well, unless one counts yesterday's Serpent, which is probably what he means.
It is in fact.
He knows there's a risk that bringing this up will remind everyone of the Serpents' claims again, but he gets the feeling they haven't forgotten it, and it might not hurt to try to generate a little sympathy for himself and suggest he's already being punished. Plus because he really can't believe that he is, it makes it that much easier for him to casually speak about it. Still, it seems wise to confirm that more objectively...
"And she informs me my allowance will be halved. But I have a trust fund, so aside from reducing the total funds at my disposal - which is a terrible shame, of course - it shouldn't actually dictate that I curtail my expenditures, should it?"
This is the first overt mention in a group setting with any of the seventh year boys present that they can probably expect to be disciplined for their actions. Not that most seem to recall them, but that's immaterial. Blaise looks around and realises the only other one of the boys there is Gregory, the younger students appear unapologetically disapprobatory, and even the seventh year girls look far from sympathetic. In fact, Gregory's the only other member of the team present, too, now that he thinks about it. Which may help explain why the atmosphere is so hostile.
Merlin. Blaise will need to talk to the others about this soon. They'll need to come up with something to placate the... masses. Somehow.
It might be a little late for that.
Hunter's eyes narrow as he watches Blaise. He's not given to envy, but sometimes some of their wealthier Housemates can be really... insensitive. He's glad Harper's out on the pitch.
Ella looks at Blaise and blinks. That entitled little twatwaffle. She gets the feeling Blaise would have had no qualms about asking Harper had he been here and had she not been. Blaise is utterly tone deaf sometimes. Quite possibly more self-absorbed than Draco, even, which is something of an achievement. A dubious one, naturally, but still. She's just thankful she was here to field the wastrel's question.
And she's glad Harper took his robe off the boy. Blaise deserved it.
Her eyes narrow now, too, and she replies with some degree of relish, "It probably depends on whether or not there's a trustee for the fund."
"A what?" He asks, which probably isn't a good sign. The Touchstones chuckle. The Zabinis are no less wealthy than the Touchstones, but they're new money and it often shows.
"Gringotts?" Ella asks simply.
He nods. "Where else."
"Owl them. You're apparently the beneficiary, but you need to know if there's a trustee for the account, and if so, for how long."
"For how long?" He squeaks and doesn't even care.
"Could be until you're eighteen," Torsten suggests. Blaise looks a little concerned, that's months away. But conceivably he could survive until April on half funds if he absolutely had to. And then Tomasina ruins it.
"Could be until you're twenty-one," she's smirking a little.
"Twenty-one!" He's appalled. "That seems unduly harsh. Surely eighteen is more reasonable..."
Hunter crows, "Could be even older."
"Whatever for?" Blaise wails, his sangfroid a thing of the past.
Ella shrugs. "Owl Gringotts," she repeats and then turns to Daphne instead, "We need to get going." And just like that, they leave Blaise sitting there having kittens. Daphne finds the sight picks her mood right up.
She needed that.
As they leave, she can still hear him whinging to the Touchstones, "But why would they do something like that to a trust fund?"
Tomasina and Torsten, heirs to the Touchstone Triple T potions fortune, are both in their element, and Torsten fields this one. He might not be the natural with potions his sister is, much to his family's chagrin, but he does understand a thing or two about financial arrangements. "Generally the thinking is that it's... necessary when the beneficiary isn't... mature enough to manage their own affairs."
"Not mature enough??" Blaise doesn't seem to know where to look. "I'm mature enough!" He claims, indignant, and it's greeted by a number of snickers because that sounded very much like something straight from the mouth of a Firstie.
If that.
"Apparently not if you are currently doing things that result in the Professor being bonded," Tomasina gives him the world's sweetest smile. He's never seen a more radiant 'fuck you'.
"Clearly you lack... something," Torsten agrees and Blaise begins fidgeting uneasily in his seat.
"'Good judgment' seems likely," Hunter is pleased for the opening. That earns him a lot of laughs from the other fourth years, Wilfred clapping him on the back.
Accepting that in all probability he won't find much comfort - if any - here, and eager to get to the bottom of this, Blaise rushes from the Hall, his savoir faire as forgotten as his lunch, and heads for the owlery where he'll dash off a couple of lines to Gringotts. Uncertain as to the proper vocabulary to phrase his questions - with his Housemates, there's a very real chance a 'trustee' is actually one of Hagrid's creatures - he decides to take the most direct approach and requests funds from his account.
If it works, he needn't concern himself further.
Simple.
Elegant.
Rather like himself. (Elegant, not simple, that is.)
He's rather proud of that solution, which provides him with a small sense of satisfaction. For a little while at least. It's a nice respite during which he manages to convince himself the others were just having him on.
It doesn't hold. The goblins are exceedingly efficient, and he'll soon have a reply to his owl which leaves him in even more of a state: his request is denied. Much to Hunter's delight, Blaise's grandparents had indeed made his mother the trustee of his fund until he turns twenty-five. Predictably, having cut his allowance, she won't permit him to draw from the account either, as he'll soon discover.
He'll still have more Galleons at his disposal than most of his Housemates, of course, but he's far more poorly equipped to come to terms with the sum available and will suffer markedly - and very publicly - in the months to come.
It begins with his much lamented inability to replace his robe and gets worse from there.
Harper will find himself relishing wearing the thing even more and will take to hanging about the common room in it after curfew every chance he gets.
He won't even care how many times Professor Swoopstikes' portrait chides him for his dress.
Harry and Ron are late to lunch, Harry once again having dragged Ron to the pitch for some Quidditch before the meal. It seems to help him decompress, and Merlin knows the boy could use the extra practice after his miserable performance this morning.
Scanning the table, Ron slips into a seat further down from the rest (he and the House are at odds), noting that Hermione isn't there. Again. All sign of his hard won ease vanishes completely as he looks over his shoulder to the High Table and registers that Snape isn't there as well. His protracted hissed whisperings as to just why that might be have Harry contemplating planting his fork in Ron's hand as he reaches for yet another pastie from the plate between them.
It would certainly give the ginger something else to think about.
When Harry spots Snape entering just a little bit later, he holds his breath, fearing, but half expecting, what with the way his luck seems to be running, that Hermione will arrive now, too. He doesn't want to begin to imagine what Ron would say then.
But Ron's too focused on his diatribe and lunch to notice Snape, and Harry patiently waits for the next several minutes for 'Mione to put in an appearance.
Curiously, he notices he hasn't heard a word Ron has said in the interim. That distraction thing really does work a treat.
When minutes later she still hasn't arrived (Ron hasn't noticed that Harry hasn't responded to a single thing he's said in the meantime either), Harry sighs in relief and then points out that Snape is there.
Which apparently also serves to function as a distraction, and is kinder than spearing the boy's hand with one's fork.
Probably.
Ron begins watching Snape like a hawk.
One of the things he happens to register as he does so is that the man doesn't eat much. Like next to nothing at all. For Ron, that is a fact that makes no sense whatsoever.
He sees it. It's incontrovertibly true. But he can't reconcile it with anything familiar.
The man just sits there. Not eating.
This paradox - someone's presence at meal without consuming food - leads to much furious thinking, and Ron's nearly overtaxed by the conundrum. He eventually decides that thinking isn't great for the digestion (Harry would suggest it was the dine-atribe), but the obvious conclusion, of course, was that the man had already... partaken with 'Mione.
Harry is predictably thrilled when he's confronted with that little leap in logic, and resumes contemplating where best to park the tines of his fork. As mental exercises go, he find this helps him decompress.
The explanation, naturally, boils down to the simple fact that Severus vastly prefers Sunny's cooking to the fare in the Great Hall. Feeling he deserves a treat today, he will return to his office before class where he'll enjoy some of that instead of the abysmal fodder everyone else seems to accept.
Thoroughly indiscriminate eaters.
Not an epicurean amongst them.
By agreement, Flora and Tracey meet in one of the semi-private rooms off to the side of the Slytherin common room to brew the Pain-Relieving Potion. Chances are it was once used for some arts that have since fallen into disfavour, thoroughly forgotten. There are traces of the different kinds of things that might once have been done here, looms and easels, a spinning wheel and a lathe, but no one can recall it serving any real designated purpose, and they haven't thought to ask the portraits.
That's mostly because they fear another unending lecture from Salazar.
The girls have retrieved their lunches and the communally collected ingredients, and Tracey returns Flora's satchel. They settle into an easy rhythm, Flora chops the ingredients for Tracey, and the seventh year sees to adding them at the appropriate times and manages the proper stirring. Once the active part of their work is finished for the time being, they sit down to eat as the Potion boils away, reducing.
Between bites, Flora asks, "I don't suppose you have any idea what happened to the Pain Relief in the dorms last weekend? Because I personally had some, I'm sure of it, and I've heard several others say the same. They can't all be mistaken...
"Well, technically they could, but you know what I mean."
Certainly.
Something foul was afoot.
It just so happens Tracey's given this some thought. A lot of thought, in fact. In retrospect, she wouldn't rule out the Head as being behind the disappearance of the potions, knowing how badly the seventh year boys had been doing without them this past weekend, and as she now knows they were responsible for his bonding... He certainly had motive. But the man had the best alibi imaginable. Not even someone as skilful as their Head could Vanish the potions in a coma. She's sure of it.
Well, reasonably sure of it.
And even if he had, there could be no blame attached to something inadvertently done while in that state.
No, more likely, if there were someone actually to blame for what happened, had it been a deliberate act, then in light of the man's instance on reintroducing bondings, the Headmaster was behind it. That seems probable. It was presumably part of his punishment scheme...
Tracey is far from the only one to arrive at that conclusion since the Serpents hissed their news yesterday.
All Tracey answers her younger Housemate is, "I'd tend to agree. And while I don't know what happened," there's something about the furrow to her brow that leaves Flora with the distinct feeling that Tracey agrees someone was maliciously behind it, and doesn't care for the individual in the least. With the way she'd been looking at it, Flora takes that for a probable confirmation that Tracey agrees Professor Dumbledore was the wizard in question. "But I mean to take steps not to be caught without again."
The man had been a Gryffindor. Even he has limits. And young Snakes have a variety of lesser known ways to hide contraband, which they've now begun to contemplate. Not that any of them have previously considered Pain Relief as such, but they adapt.
Flora nods solemnly. Her parents should have something appropriate they can loan the girls to deal with this. She'll need to find a way to word that unobtrusively in an owl home, and no later than the next Hogsmeade weekend, they could do a handoff, and that should be sorted.
Flora is in excellent company. Some version of those thoughts will be going through every single one of the senior students' minds and a fair few of those of their younger Housemates as well. Some will have poorer connections, the Hutchinsons' father and Tracey's family, for examples, are less likely to have those kinds of artefacts lying about.
They're not alone.
Most in their shoes will peruse owl catalogs in the days to come to see if they can't find a suitable article to arrange to purchase. Harper and Tracey, both less monied, will trust to their skills, and set about learning how to Transfigure one potion into something less likely to be impounded. The idea would have been a good one, too, except such a Transfiguration isn't likely to fool a house elf, and ultimately, if anyone ran a test on the substance, Gamp's law dictates that it must fail.
But then what are the chances anyone in the castle would think to test unidentifiable potions?
Severus takes his customary seat in the Great Hall. A quick survey of the end of the Gryffindors' table revealed nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing but Potter and Weasley, who seem intent on taking it in turns to watch him. So be it. He's practically used to it by now.
At the High Table, conversation flows less smoothly today. This is Severus' first meal with his colleagues since Monday's ill managed announcement, and it's proving a bit... awkward.
All conversation stops as he takes his seat, and they eat in silence while he sits there sipping his tea. He pokes listlessly at his plate before deciding to pass on the meal and have Sunny bring him something later instead. He's earned it.
Growing tired of the unnatural quiet - although oddly enough he usually wishes they'd be more taciturn as a whole; somehow it's different when he's the reason for it - he turns to Hagrid.
"It's come to my attention that at least one member of my House has begun pilfering homework assignments from fellow Slytherins, the result, perhaps, of a wager gone very wrong. Have you had any difficulty with that?"
Hagrid furrows his brow, "Twice this week already, Perfesser, 'smatter of fact. Goyle yesterday, and Crabbe Monday, but I din' wan' ter bother yeh with it, what with..." He gestures a little helplessly with one of his enormous hands, indicating Severus. The Potions Master really isn't sure if the half giant means Severus' stay in the Infirmary, the bonding or even the man's breaking of his ribs Monday, any one of which would probably have been a good reason not to speak to him about missing homework. But then Severus is the one who has brought it up.
"It would be such a shame to see the House suffer for it," he begins silkily, and one or two people behind him think he's trying to get some lazy Snakes out of their just punishments and are a little surprised when Severus continues, "I'd appreciate it if instead of taking House points," Severus can hear Pomona already making 'tsking' noises, "you'd consider giving them detention. Particularly harsh detentions, might be appropriate, until they get this out of their systems. I'd so hate to punish all the rest for their bout of... wilful stupidity."
"Yeh wan' me to give 'em detention?"
"It seems fair, don't you think?"
"If someone else took their work?" Hagrid's trying - hard - to make sure he's got this straight.
"'Boys will be boys'," Severus smarms with a wave of his hand, "as Albus is so fond of saying. I can assure you, something like this doesn't happen in Slytherin without... provocation."
"Mr. Nott didn't have his Charms assignment today," Filius squeaks up now. Severus is well aware. "I didn't take House points, however."
"I imagine you didn't give him detention, though, either."
Filius' cheeks gain a rosy hue. "I reassigned the work and added another six inches to it." He sounds slightly defensive. Considering it was Nott, that's probably a fair solution. Severus nods.
"Not that he seemed to notice, though. He was highly distracted all through the lesson..." Filius continues.
Septima is quick to agree he'd been no better in Arithmancy, and they both glance at the Slytherins' table where the boy is now missing. It had been hard to miss his flight from the room, and that had come after he'd sat there prodding his meal apathetically. Something is wrong with the boy. But given what Severus has been through the past couple of days, asking him about it just now seems... In poor taste. They give each other significant looks.
Severus attempts to draw their attention back to the point he's trying to make. And he certainly doesn't need staff taking an interest in Nott's condition. "I'm simply concerned this will get out of hand with the boys if we don't put a decisive stop to it. Given it appears to be localised to the seventh years, the pressure the rest of the House can bring to bear on them is limited, which makes deductions in House points the poorer solution, I should think.
"I'd like to see this behaviour very... strongly discouraged, and I believe detentions are the best way to do so. Individual accountability," his lips tighten momentarily at the thought, but then his features relax again and he almost smiles. Even Hagrid recognises something predatory in the expression. Of course he's accustomed to working with dangerous animals. "I simply wanted to assure you, you have my full support in any measures you take against them."
It's... unexpected. When Heads of House involve themselves in such matters, it's invariably to try to intervene on behalf of their students, to mitigate the punishments their charges receive.
"I took points from both of the lads. Bu' I suppose I could change tha'..."
"You could almost certainly use some help with your animals, couldn't you? They're both... strong boys, I'm confident they could make themselves... useful for once."
"An' yeh don' mind?" He's clearly struggling to accept it.
"Hagrid, Minerva has long been given to assigning detentions when students don't complete her work. If your punishment is less severe than hers, yours will always be the class they choose to neglect when pressed to prioritise. You mustn't sell your course or the material you instruct short."
It's unusually good advice, which throws more than a few present.
But of course, they aren't looking at it properly.
What he says is true, however not terribly relevant. Of the roughly twenty students in each of their seventh year N.E.W.T.s classes, only a small fraction of them are in both Transfiguration and Care for Magical Creatures, and none of them likely to cause Hagrid any problems. Miss Greengrass was scarcely about to begin misbehaving in his class of a sudden, after all...
Still, Hagrid seems duly impressed, and most of those present resolve to do exactly as Severus suggests.
Not that that stops the conversation from languishing again...
A/N:
If there are any other lego fans out there, the lego stores and online shop in many countries have a promotion going until 21 November or supplies run out. Freebie microbuild of Diagon Alley.
Link to the US page, fwiw.
https://shop.lego.com/en-US/Diagon-Alley-40289
“11 12k Wednesday - Lunch at the Castle 1” Part 2
Severus Snape, Hermione Granger, Staff: Filius Flitwick, Sybill Trelawney, Professor Sarah Sapworthy, Professor Barrymore Beckford, Irma Pince, Hagrid, Septima Vector, Pomona Sprout, Slytherins: Draco Malfoy, Theo Nott, Blaise Zabini, Daphne Greengrass, Tracey Davis, Pansy Parkinson, Torsten Touchstone, Ella Wilkins, Flora Carrow, Tomasina Touchstone, Hunter Hutchinson, Gryffindors: Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, Fay Dunbar, Georgina Smith, Dhanesh Devi, Kiera Kilkenny Devi, Kevin Peterson, Ravenclaws: Robert Knox, Stewart Ackerly, David Chang Others: the Bloody Baron, Sunny, Slinky, House of Slytherin elves, Hogwarts' Kitchen Elves
Mentioned briefly: Staff: Albus Dumbledore, Slytherins: Gregory Goyle, Vincent Crabbe, Millicent Bulstrode, Harper Hutchinson, Aaron Avery, Sheldon Shafiq, Hestia Carrow, Valerie 'Val' Vaisey, Róisín Rosier, Wilfred Wilkes Gryffindors: Fred and George Weasley Ravenclaws: Morag MacDougal, Hufflepuffs: Megan Jones, Leanne Moon, Salome Perks Smith, Hannah Abbott, Newton Kurz, Others: Portrait Phineas Nigellus Black, Flighty
Originally Published: 2018-11-11 on AO3
Chapter: 098 part 2
The original version of this chapter exceeded livejournal’s maximum post length. It’s been split in two parts.
At the Gryffindor table, Fay and Georgina, who take Muggle Music with Megan Jones, report to their friends that the Muggle-born has left the school. Midterm. There's initial disbelief and some discussion, Fred and George are instantly mentioned by several as proof that such a thing might happen, but it's not until Lav and Parvati join them and confirm the rumours that anyone seems inclined to actually believe them. They seemed so far fetched.
Lav goes further and expands on the other girls' story with the information that the family is leaving the country for Canada. (One of the fourth year boys asks where that is and, typically, suffers much mocking, not that so many of the others are entirely sure either. Also all too typically.) Parvati confirms Lav's tale, telling them how they'd heard about it in Xylomancy. Professor Sapworthy had been so kind as to cast the twigs for Jones.
"And how did that go, with her gone..." Kev's still trying to poke holes in their story.
"In absentia, clearly." Lavender puts the muppeting fifth year in his proper place.
"Seriously, Kev," Parvati agrees.
And then everything shifts and grows terribly sombre as Kiera tells the group in low tones that the reason the Headmaster had encouraged the bondings was because a student had been attacked last weekend. That's met with all of the usual disbelief and discussion, which Dhanesh quickly quashes.
"It's true," his tone is emphatic and discourages further debate. (He's somewhat easier to take more seriously without his tail.) "Our understanding was that it was a Muggle-born..." Kiera nods her agreement as the others look horror-struck.
A more analytical and cynical person might wonder if their likelihood of accepting something as truth increases if the gender of the individual asserting it is male. Of course, that person is currently no longer taking meals in the Great Hall, and as such isn't tempted to wonder that. Silver linings.
(The answer, sadly enough, is it does, although it's unwarranted. Intriguingly, careful analysis would also reveal that that willingness happens to decrease again if the individuals asserting things play Quidditch for the House team. It transpires that prejudice is more justified.)
There will be a lot of discussion, one or two will ask if it could have been Hermione - she's not there, and they feel free to discuss her in her absence (honestly, her presence probably wouldn't have dissuaded them much either) - except she'd been in the Infirmary all weekend, so that seems unlikely. And, really, pulling the Jones girl from school seems such a radical step. Surely something serious must have taken place for that to happen in her final N.E.W.T.s year.
Of course, they aren't the only ones thinking about Hermione.
Slinky pops into the kitchens at the beginning of the meal, desperate to meet two goals.
The first is simple, or reasonably so anyway, which is lucky as he's duty and honour bound to address it first. He finds the food meant for the Snakes and watches as it's Banished to their table; he can't interfere yet without running the risk of dosing much of the House. Next he Apparates silently - and invisibly, of course; he'd never have the poor taste to do so silently if visible, unlike some - to the Great Hall behind the Malfoy's and the Zabini's seats. Using fairly straightforward magic, he proceeds to add the Saltpeter to their meals with another simple Depulso. Too easy, really. That is until he registers that the Crabbe is apparently absent, and he fears he needs to scour the castle to try to find where the bothersome boy has gone.
Resigned to that being a more difficult chore, he returns to the kitchens and calls for assistance. His timing is wretched, as the elves are just in the process of trying to get lunch on the tables. They're not best pleased when he explains he'd like as many as possible to drop what they're doing and come to his aid. The 'what' is simple enough, he requires their help to find a missing piece of his uniform. The 'why', however, proves a sticky wicket, and his explanation is found extremely wanting. Without that, he's completely unable to convey the urgency of the mission.
Of course, if he had, they'd probably be inclined to think it serves him right.
Winky, refusing to listen to him properly, simply mends his uniform in a bid for acceptance; sadly, the stink of Butterbeer on her breath all but precludes it, even if her status as a free elf hadn't already done so. And to Slinky's frustration, the sight of his repaired towel causes the remainder of the elves to turn away. Problem clearly solved. He tries again to explain he needs their help, now, but can only manage to get them to agree to assisting him after the meal.
Finally he gives up on convincing them otherwise, returns to the Slytherin elves' quarters and calls for his team. They appear quickly, not busy with the food preparation as the others are, the cleaning in the dorms mostly finished for the day, and only the laundry remaining. It's a small team, at four strong a mere fraction of the kitchen staff's number, but loyal, and they'll do as he asks and help him search for the bit of his uniform, at least until the others can join them. It gets him a jump on the task, and is clearly preferable to waiting, although he now has a little difficulty conveying what the scrap looked like as his towel is repaired.
Winky is never not a nuisance.
While he's at it, Slinky also asks the others to help him try to find the Crabbe.
They begin by searching all the places the Head is regularly known to frequent. All except his currently warded office, classroom and quarters, that is. Sunny is probably the only one of them who would have access to those areas, and Slinky imagines asking him for help is tantamount to leaving the telltale scrap where it is if it were in any of those locations. He'll just report back to the Professor anyway.
Thinking it over, however, Slinky decides it's unlikely to be there. Had he left something threatening behind in the office, the Head would scarcely wish to Banish the object behind the safety of his wards... No, he thinks it's far more probable that it will be somewhere public that the Head visits regularly.
The ability to lurk unseen in the presence of the students eventually leads to the solutions to both of his problems. The elves discover the scrap of his uniform in the Great Hall, strangely at the end of the Gryffindors' table. And while pouring through the room searching for it, they happen to overhear some of the little Snakes mention that the Crabbe is in the Infirmary.
Slinky wastes no time visiting with his jar of Saltpeter.
Attendance at lunch is poor amongst the older Slytherins. Nearly half of them are missing. Still more will leave soon.
Sixth years Harper, Sheldon and Aaron had headed straight for the pitch where Millie, Hestia, and Val are surprised to discover them when they arrive there shortly after. The coincidence proves fortuitous - they're agreed, great minds think alike - and soon the six Housemates begin what will become the first in a daily series of strenuous Quidditch practices. They have nearly enough people to make a team themselves, and the Seeker's role has always been a solitary one anyway. The reserve players are really put through their paces for once, which proves just as well, as some of their regular teammates won't be up for practice this afternoon.
Tracey and Flora, as the witches present in the Great Hall well know - but wouldn't dream of mentioning - are brewing Pain Relief in the dorms.
And Vince, unsurprisingly, is still in the Infirmary, a fact which is a source of no small measure of pride for a number of the boys.
As none of the of the Slytherins are in Muggle Music first period, obviously, Pansy and Blaise were the first of their House to learn that Jones, one of the Muggle-born Hufflepuffs, has pulled out of school. They're just coming from Xylomancy, where Moon had asked Professor Sapworthy to cast the twigs for Jones, to see how she'd fare in her new home abroad. Sapworthy had predicted the move would be fraught with difficulties, and argument ensues as to whether or not that isn't true almost by definition - moving house is rarely easy - and how the blazes would they ever know either way. Blaise cheerily reminds the others about Sapworthy's prediction only yesterday about the 'three little snakes bringing' someone 'to his knees'.
Draco is about to groan again at the recollection, Merlin knows his bollocks still hurt, when he notices Blaise changed the prophecy somewhat in the retelling. Smirking, he asks, "Wasn't that 'the biggest snake' in the original version?" Thinking of his bollocks has that smirk taking on a decidedly disreputable air.
Blaise gives him a sour look, and Draco will soon have reason to regret his smugness. The seventh year boys are far from popular right now, and the combination of witnessing his self-importance and a fundamental, and all too universal, human desire to wipe the smug look off his face will have some of his younger Housemates turning their attention in his direction in the near future. If their work with Vince was any indication, that's hardly a desirable goal.
Pansy is quick to agree with Draco's claim, eager as always to encourage others to recognise the Hogwarts Seers' talents. But half the House are no longer listening anyway, having moved on to speculating as to why the Hufflepuff would have exmatriculated.
"That's precisely what Professor Sapworthy said," Pansy confirms. "She Saw 'three little snakes bringing the biggest snake of them all to his knees...'" She shrugs a little apologetically towards Draco (they were his knees after all, and his bollocks, for that matter), and then Blaise, who now looks even more cross (because Draco must absolutely always be the centre of attention), before it occurs to her that the exciting news and the boys' suffering yesterday in no way changes anything and she's still quite mad at them both. Hang it all.
This will take some adjusting.
She's finding it harder to stay angry when she's angry on someone else's behalf.
Turning her back towards them, she spots Theo, who seems to be going increasingly green about the gills. He'd been pushing his food idly about his plate, apparently having lost all appetite. That's probably a good thing, though, as he looks about ready to lose his lunch.
As if in confirmation of that thought, Theo suddenly leaps from his seat, and without even a word of apology makes a wild scramble for the loo.
Pansy hasn't the foggiest. And it's only Theo anyway. It's hardly worth worrying about. She turns back to her meal and the discussion of Seers, having less interest for the musings as to Muggle-borns' families' motives for... anything really. That strikes her as another waste of effort.
Draco notices Theo freaking and can well imagine why. Circe's left tit.
He sighs.
The problem here, of course, is that he really can't say anything to his friend to clear this up. And he's not actually sure he should. What was he supposed to do? Tell him they'd attacked Granger? Well, he can't and it wouldn't have helped. Honestly, considering how Theo's been behaving, it might be better to let him think what he's thinking as opposed to continuing to look at Granger/Snape or MacDougall as he's been doing today.
This might just be a blessing in disguise.
He sits there thoughtfully eating his meal as he watches Theo bolt from the room. It has the side effect of causing him to miss Pansy's change in behaviour again. But then he's sure to notice it soon enough.
Daphne is exceptionally quiet at the news about Jones, joining in neither of the discussions it sparks. Theo's mad dash from the Hall has her worried. Very worried. Not about him, obviously, not beyond how he's doing, although that appears to be something worth worrying about... For a brief moment she considers following him until Torsten arrives asking, "What's with Theo? Was there something wrong with his lunch? Wizard's in the lav chundering up a storm."
At this, Draco rises after all, grabs Theo's books and goes to see to his friend.
Róisín is quick to admonish Torsten for the graphic description, "I swear you're more disgusting than a Flobberworm, Tor. We're eating here." His sister Tomasina grins at the rebuke until Róisín continues, "Were you raised by wolves?"
That naturally gives rise to some bickering between the Touchstones - presenting a united front just the once - and Róisín, take that back, there's never been a lycanthrope in the family's history and I'm sure I didn't mean to imply there was, and Daphne studiously ignores them as she does all the others.
Well, there's little point in trying to follow Theo into the gents'.
But Daph's fears as to what the boys might have done, or at least to whom, are beginning to crystallise. To get more information about this, she'll presumably need to go outside of the House. That's never easy. She deliberates which of the Hufflepuffs are most likely to be able to help her, and then which of those might actually be willing.
She'd had Jones in only two of her classes. Moon, who was apparently pretty close to Jones from what Pansy tells of the girl's reaction in Xylomancy, is in three of Daphne's classes. But she can't imagine the girl will welcome enquiries from her... She's more likely to think the Slytherin is trying to rub salt in the wound. Daph thinks her best bet might be to try asking Abbott, who sits with her in six of her seven courses. Which isn't to say they know each other well... That's sort of the problem with other Houses.
There's a brief flicker of relief - that she absolutely hates herself for feeling - that if something had to happen to someone, at least it wasn't Hermione or MacDougal. She has them in four and three of her classes respectively. By that token, Perks, Madam Smith is only in one of her classes, and seems a fairly unpleasant sort... And Daph now is mortified that thought ever even began to cross her mind, because she's perfectly capable of filling in her own blanks, thank you so much.
Merlin.
She's becoming a horrible person.
She sits there blinking uncomfortably for a minute or two, trying not to think a whole bunch of things, none of which she can do anything about anyway. She looks forward to being an adult with more control over her world, and then darkly wonders if that's even true. She takes a good look at her classmates and asks herself how much control any of them are likely to have over their futures.
She's having trouble shaking herself out of it.
Fwoopers.
Fwoopers. Fwoopers. Fwoopers.
Fwoopers and fairy wings.
And then she needs to try not thinking about why Vince is sporting those wings. How did everything get so bad? And when?
Ella, fortunately, pulls her out of her uncharacteristically gloomy thoughts, which is lucky indeed, because Daph just isn't built for this sort of thing. She really isn't.
The two girls had intended to leave the meal early to make a quick trip to the library to coordinate who will examine which sections as part of their search for books on bonding. Daphne has the next period free, but Ella doesn't, and they want to be sure not to cover the same ground, so it needs to be done in advance.
Ella informs the seventh year she'll be leaving earlier yet, however, as she plans to take food to the three boys currently practising. "Harper had asked me if I'd mind, and if they're missing out on lunch to practise, really it seemed the least I could do. But you and I can still meet in the library afterwards.
"I was thinking of making a picnic of it and watching them play." She glances at the others around them and whispers, "The company's better, anyway."
"What, sitting all by yourself in the stands?" Daph then looks at Pansy trying to ignore Blaise, and Gregory sort of off by himself and sighs. "You might be right at that." She gives it a moment of thought and asks, "Were you planning on taking lunch for the girls, too?"
"Which girls?"
"Hunter said Millie and the other girls were going to be practising, it's why he brought her breakfast, so they must be out there as well." A quick look about the table confirms they aren't here, at least. It's funny that Daphne describes the girls that way, and reveals her superficial interest in the game. As the female sixth year players are regular teammates, and Millie's only a reserve Beater, most of their House would have mentioned Hestia and Val by name instead. But then again, Millie is her roommate.
"I thought that was just about them missing breakfast."
"In general, yes, but I think Millie's case was what sparked the idea. If you wouldn't mind the company, Ella, I'd be happy to join you," Daphne volunteers.
"Are you kidding? Of course not," she readily agrees, and the girls begin packing a picnic lunch for what they'll soon come to think of as the Reserve team.
Blaise spots them about to leave and calls out, "I say, Ella, wait a moment." Harper hasn't put in an appearance, and she's his best shot at a quick response. Well, unless he asks Hunter, but he's not exactly sold on consulting a fourth year.
Which won't stop the aforementioned fourth year from listening in and offering his two Knuts.
Not that Blaise seriously believes this is a problem, but Ella is sitting... standing right there, she usually knows her way around legal questions, and it seems a shame not to just ask her. And if she doesn't know, he is a bit loath to admit it, but both Hutchinsons often do. That's a natural advantage to having solicitors in the family and listening at the dinner table, he supposes. Both families have only the one parent. In Ella's case, her mother serves on the Wizengamot, and the Hutchinson's father is a solicitor. These days he works as a prosecutor, although rumour has it that's not going well. Blaise isn't aware of the details. He's really never cared.
"Maybe you'll know the answer. I had a letter from my mother," he starts and a few give him curious looks, because he obviously hadn't, well, unless one counts yesterday's Serpent, which is probably what he means.
It is in fact.
He knows there's a risk that bringing this up will remind everyone of the Serpents' claims again, but he gets the feeling they haven't forgotten it, and it might not hurt to try to generate a little sympathy for himself and suggest he's already being punished. Plus because he really can't believe that he is, it makes it that much easier for him to casually speak about it. Still, it seems wise to confirm that more objectively...
"And she informs me my allowance will be halved. But I have a trust fund, so aside from reducing the total funds at my disposal - which is a terrible shame, of course - it shouldn't actually dictate that I curtail my expenditures, should it?"
This is the first overt mention in a group setting with any of the seventh year boys present that they can probably expect to be disciplined for their actions. Not that most seem to recall them, but that's immaterial. Blaise looks around and realises the only other one of the boys there is Gregory, the younger students appear unapologetically disapprobatory, and even the seventh year girls look far from sympathetic. In fact, Gregory's the only other member of the team present, too, now that he thinks about it. Which may help explain why the atmosphere is so hostile.
Merlin. Blaise will need to talk to the others about this soon. They'll need to come up with something to placate the... masses. Somehow.
It might be a little late for that.
Hunter's eyes narrow as he watches Blaise. He's not given to envy, but sometimes some of their wealthier Housemates can be really... insensitive. He's glad Harper's out on the pitch.
Ella looks at Blaise and blinks. That entitled little twatwaffle. She gets the feeling Blaise would have had no qualms about asking Harper had he been here and had she not been. Blaise is utterly tone deaf sometimes. Quite possibly more self-absorbed than Draco, even, which is something of an achievement. A dubious one, naturally, but still. She's just thankful she was here to field the wastrel's question.
And she's glad Harper took his robe off the boy. Blaise deserved it.
Her eyes narrow now, too, and she replies with some degree of relish, "It probably depends on whether or not there's a trustee for the fund."
"A what?" He asks, which probably isn't a good sign. The Touchstones chuckle. The Zabinis are no less wealthy than the Touchstones, but they're new money and it often shows.
"Gringotts?" Ella asks simply.
He nods. "Where else."
"Owl them. You're apparently the beneficiary, but you need to know if there's a trustee for the account, and if so, for how long."
"For how long?" He squeaks and doesn't even care.
"Could be until you're eighteen," Torsten suggests. Blaise looks a little concerned, that's months away. But conceivably he could survive until April on half funds if he absolutely had to. And then Tomasina ruins it.
"Could be until you're twenty-one," she's smirking a little.
"Twenty-one!" He's appalled. "That seems unduly harsh. Surely eighteen is more reasonable..."
Hunter crows, "Could be even older."
"Whatever for?" Blaise wails, his sangfroid a thing of the past.
Ella shrugs. "Owl Gringotts," she repeats and then turns to Daphne instead, "We need to get going." And just like that, they leave Blaise sitting there having kittens. Daphne finds the sight picks her mood right up.
She needed that.
As they leave, she can still hear him whinging to the Touchstones, "But why would they do something like that to a trust fund?"
Tomasina and Torsten, heirs to the Touchstone Triple T potions fortune, are both in their element, and Torsten fields this one. He might not be the natural with potions his sister is, much to his family's chagrin, but he does understand a thing or two about financial arrangements. "Generally the thinking is that it's... necessary when the beneficiary isn't... mature enough to manage their own affairs."
"Not mature enough??" Blaise doesn't seem to know where to look. "I'm mature enough!" He claims, indignant, and it's greeted by a number of snickers because that sounded very much like something straight from the mouth of a Firstie.
If that.
"Apparently not if you are currently doing things that result in the Professor being bonded," Tomasina gives him the world's sweetest smile. He's never seen a more radiant 'fuck you'.
"Clearly you lack... something," Torsten agrees and Blaise begins fidgeting uneasily in his seat.
"'Good judgment' seems likely," Hunter is pleased for the opening. That earns him a lot of laughs from the other fourth years, Wilfred clapping him on the back.
Accepting that in all probability he won't find much comfort - if any - here, and eager to get to the bottom of this, Blaise rushes from the Hall, his savoir faire as forgotten as his lunch, and heads for the owlery where he'll dash off a couple of lines to Gringotts. Uncertain as to the proper vocabulary to phrase his questions - with his Housemates, there's a very real chance a 'trustee' is actually one of Hagrid's creatures - he decides to take the most direct approach and requests funds from his account.
If it works, he needn't concern himself further.
Simple.
Elegant.
Rather like himself. (Elegant, not simple, that is.)
He's rather proud of that solution, which provides him with a small sense of satisfaction. For a little while at least. It's a nice respite during which he manages to convince himself the others were just having him on.
It doesn't hold. The goblins are exceedingly efficient, and he'll soon have a reply to his owl which leaves him in even more of a state: his request is denied. Much to Hunter's delight, Blaise's grandparents had indeed made his mother the trustee of his fund until he turns twenty-five. Predictably, having cut his allowance, she won't permit him to draw from the account either, as he'll soon discover.
He'll still have more Galleons at his disposal than most of his Housemates, of course, but he's far more poorly equipped to come to terms with the sum available and will suffer markedly - and very publicly - in the months to come.
It begins with his much lamented inability to replace his robe and gets worse from there.
Harper will find himself relishing wearing the thing even more and will take to hanging about the common room in it after curfew every chance he gets.
He won't even care how many times Professor Swoopstikes' portrait chides him for his dress.
Harry and Ron are late to lunch, Harry once again having dragged Ron to the pitch for some Quidditch before the meal. It seems to help him decompress, and Merlin knows the boy could use the extra practice after his miserable performance this morning.
Scanning the table, Ron slips into a seat further down from the rest (he and the House are at odds), noting that Hermione isn't there. Again. All sign of his hard won ease vanishes completely as he looks over his shoulder to the High Table and registers that Snape isn't there as well. His protracted hissed whisperings as to just why that might be have Harry contemplating planting his fork in Ron's hand as he reaches for yet another pastie from the plate between them.
It would certainly give the ginger something else to think about.
When Harry spots Snape entering just a little bit later, he holds his breath, fearing, but half expecting, what with the way his luck seems to be running, that Hermione will arrive now, too. He doesn't want to begin to imagine what Ron would say then.
But Ron's too focused on his diatribe and lunch to notice Snape, and Harry patiently waits for the next several minutes for 'Mione to put in an appearance.
Curiously, he notices he hasn't heard a word Ron has said in the interim. That distraction thing really does work a treat.
When minutes later she still hasn't arrived (Ron hasn't noticed that Harry hasn't responded to a single thing he's said in the meantime either), Harry sighs in relief and then points out that Snape is there.
Which apparently also serves to function as a distraction, and is kinder than spearing the boy's hand with one's fork.
Probably.
Ron begins watching Snape like a hawk.
One of the things he happens to register as he does so is that the man doesn't eat much. Like next to nothing at all. For Ron, that is a fact that makes no sense whatsoever.
He sees it. It's incontrovertibly true. But he can't reconcile it with anything familiar.
The man just sits there. Not eating.
This paradox - someone's presence at meal without consuming food - leads to much furious thinking, and Ron's nearly overtaxed by the conundrum. He eventually decides that thinking isn't great for the digestion (Harry would suggest it was the dine-atribe), but the obvious conclusion, of course, was that the man had already... partaken with 'Mione.
Harry is predictably thrilled when he's confronted with that little leap in logic, and resumes contemplating where best to park the tines of his fork. As mental exercises go, he find this helps him decompress.
The explanation, naturally, boils down to the simple fact that Severus vastly prefers Sunny's cooking to the fare in the Great Hall. Feeling he deserves a treat today, he will return to his office before class where he'll enjoy some of that instead of the abysmal fodder everyone else seems to accept.
Thoroughly indiscriminate eaters.
Not an epicurean amongst them.
By agreement, Flora and Tracey meet in one of the semi-private rooms off to the side of the Slytherin common room to brew the Pain-Relieving Potion. Chances are it was once used for some arts that have since fallen into disfavour, thoroughly forgotten. There are traces of the different kinds of things that might once have been done here, looms and easels, a spinning wheel and a lathe, but no one can recall it serving any real designated purpose, and they haven't thought to ask the portraits.
That's mostly because they fear another unending lecture from Salazar.
The girls have retrieved their lunches and the communally collected ingredients, and Tracey returns Flora's satchel. They settle into an easy rhythm, Flora chops the ingredients for Tracey, and the seventh year sees to adding them at the appropriate times and manages the proper stirring. Once the active part of their work is finished for the time being, they sit down to eat as the Potion boils away, reducing.
Between bites, Flora asks, "I don't suppose you have any idea what happened to the Pain Relief in the dorms last weekend? Because I personally had some, I'm sure of it, and I've heard several others say the same. They can't all be mistaken...
"Well, technically they could, but you know what I mean."
Certainly.
Something foul was afoot.
It just so happens Tracey's given this some thought. A lot of thought, in fact. In retrospect, she wouldn't rule out the Head as being behind the disappearance of the potions, knowing how badly the seventh year boys had been doing without them this past weekend, and as she now knows they were responsible for his bonding... He certainly had motive. But the man had the best alibi imaginable. Not even someone as skilful as their Head could Vanish the potions in a coma. She's sure of it.
Well, reasonably sure of it.
And even if he had, there could be no blame attached to something inadvertently done while in that state.
No, more likely, if there were someone actually to blame for what happened, had it been a deliberate act, then in light of the man's instance on reintroducing bondings, the Headmaster was behind it. That seems probable. It was presumably part of his punishment scheme...
Tracey is far from the only one to arrive at that conclusion since the Serpents hissed their news yesterday.
All Tracey answers her younger Housemate is, "I'd tend to agree. And while I don't know what happened," there's something about the furrow to her brow that leaves Flora with the distinct feeling that Tracey agrees someone was maliciously behind it, and doesn't care for the individual in the least. With the way she'd been looking at it, Flora takes that for a probable confirmation that Tracey agrees Professor Dumbledore was the wizard in question. "But I mean to take steps not to be caught without again."
The man had been a Gryffindor. Even he has limits. And young Snakes have a variety of lesser known ways to hide contraband, which they've now begun to contemplate. Not that any of them have previously considered Pain Relief as such, but they adapt.
Flora nods solemnly. Her parents should have something appropriate they can loan the girls to deal with this. She'll need to find a way to word that unobtrusively in an owl home, and no later than the next Hogsmeade weekend, they could do a handoff, and that should be sorted.
Flora is in excellent company. Some version of those thoughts will be going through every single one of the senior students' minds and a fair few of those of their younger Housemates as well. Some will have poorer connections, the Hutchinsons' father and Tracey's family, for examples, are less likely to have those kinds of artefacts lying about.
They're not alone.
Most in their shoes will peruse owl catalogs in the days to come to see if they can't find a suitable article to arrange to purchase. Harper and Tracey, both less monied, will trust to their skills, and set about learning how to Transfigure one potion into something less likely to be impounded. The idea would have been a good one, too, except such a Transfiguration isn't likely to fool a house elf, and ultimately, if anyone ran a test on the substance, Gamp's law dictates that it must fail.
But then what are the chances anyone in the castle would think to test unidentifiable potions?
Severus takes his customary seat in the Great Hall. A quick survey of the end of the Gryffindors' table revealed nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing but Potter and Weasley, who seem intent on taking it in turns to watch him. So be it. He's practically used to it by now.
At the High Table, conversation flows less smoothly today. This is Severus' first meal with his colleagues since Monday's ill managed announcement, and it's proving a bit... awkward.
All conversation stops as he takes his seat, and they eat in silence while he sits there sipping his tea. He pokes listlessly at his plate before deciding to pass on the meal and have Sunny bring him something later instead. He's earned it.
Growing tired of the unnatural quiet - although oddly enough he usually wishes they'd be more taciturn as a whole; somehow it's different when he's the reason for it - he turns to Hagrid.
"It's come to my attention that at least one member of my House has begun pilfering homework assignments from fellow Slytherins, the result, perhaps, of a wager gone very wrong. Have you had any difficulty with that?"
Hagrid furrows his brow, "Twice this week already, Perfesser, 'smatter of fact. Goyle yesterday, and Crabbe Monday, but I din' wan' ter bother yeh with it, what with..." He gestures a little helplessly with one of his enormous hands, indicating Severus. The Potions Master really isn't sure if the half giant means Severus' stay in the Infirmary, the bonding or even the man's breaking of his ribs Monday, any one of which would probably have been a good reason not to speak to him about missing homework. But then Severus is the one who has brought it up.
"It would be such a shame to see the House suffer for it," he begins silkily, and one or two people behind him think he's trying to get some lazy Snakes out of their just punishments and are a little surprised when Severus continues, "I'd appreciate it if instead of taking House points," Severus can hear Pomona already making 'tsking' noises, "you'd consider giving them detention. Particularly harsh detentions, might be appropriate, until they get this out of their systems. I'd so hate to punish all the rest for their bout of... wilful stupidity."
"Yeh wan' me to give 'em detention?"
"It seems fair, don't you think?"
"If someone else took their work?" Hagrid's trying - hard - to make sure he's got this straight.
"'Boys will be boys'," Severus smarms with a wave of his hand, "as Albus is so fond of saying. I can assure you, something like this doesn't happen in Slytherin without... provocation."
"Mr. Nott didn't have his Charms assignment today," Filius squeaks up now. Severus is well aware. "I didn't take House points, however."
"I imagine you didn't give him detention, though, either."
Filius' cheeks gain a rosy hue. "I reassigned the work and added another six inches to it." He sounds slightly defensive. Considering it was Nott, that's probably a fair solution. Severus nods.
"Not that he seemed to notice, though. He was highly distracted all through the lesson..." Filius continues.
Septima is quick to agree he'd been no better in Arithmancy, and they both glance at the Slytherins' table where the boy is now missing. It had been hard to miss his flight from the room, and that had come after he'd sat there prodding his meal apathetically. Something is wrong with the boy. But given what Severus has been through the past couple of days, asking him about it just now seems... In poor taste. They give each other significant looks.
Severus attempts to draw their attention back to the point he's trying to make. And he certainly doesn't need staff taking an interest in Nott's condition. "I'm simply concerned this will get out of hand with the boys if we don't put a decisive stop to it. Given it appears to be localised to the seventh years, the pressure the rest of the House can bring to bear on them is limited, which makes deductions in House points the poorer solution, I should think.
"I'd like to see this behaviour very... strongly discouraged, and I believe detentions are the best way to do so. Individual accountability," his lips tighten momentarily at the thought, but then his features relax again and he almost smiles. Even Hagrid recognises something predatory in the expression. Of course he's accustomed to working with dangerous animals. "I simply wanted to assure you, you have my full support in any measures you take against them."
It's... unexpected. When Heads of House involve themselves in such matters, it's invariably to try to intervene on behalf of their students, to mitigate the punishments their charges receive.
"I took points from both of the lads. Bu' I suppose I could change tha'..."
"You could almost certainly use some help with your animals, couldn't you? They're both... strong boys, I'm confident they could make themselves... useful for once."
"An' yeh don' mind?" He's clearly struggling to accept it.
"Hagrid, Minerva has long been given to assigning detentions when students don't complete her work. If your punishment is less severe than hers, yours will always be the class they choose to neglect when pressed to prioritise. You mustn't sell your course or the material you instruct short."
It's unusually good advice, which throws more than a few present.
But of course, they aren't looking at it properly.
What he says is true, however not terribly relevant. Of the roughly twenty students in each of their seventh year N.E.W.T.s classes, only a small fraction of them are in both Transfiguration and Care for Magical Creatures, and none of them likely to cause Hagrid any problems. Miss Greengrass was scarcely about to begin misbehaving in his class of a sudden, after all...
Still, Hagrid seems duly impressed, and most of those present resolve to do exactly as Severus suggests.
Not that that stops the conversation from languishing again...
A/N:
If there are any other lego fans out there, the lego stores and online shop in many countries have a promotion going until 21 November or supplies run out. Freebie microbuild of Diagon Alley.
Link to the US page, fwiw.
https://shop.lego.com/en-US/Diagon-Alley-40289