“beyond wandpoint” 099b by gingerbred
“11 12l Wednesday - Lunch at the Castle 2” Part 2
Severus Snape, Hermione Granger, Staff: Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, Filius Flitwick, Pomona Sprout, Poppy Pomfrey, Sybill Trelawney, Professor Sarah Sapworthy, Hagrid, Professor Call-Me-Terry Taylor, Irma Pince, Nurse Wanda Wainscott, Rolanda Hooch, Septima Vector, Charity Burbage, Slytherins: Draco Malfoy, Theo Nott, Gregory Goyle, Daphne Greengrass, Harper Hutchinson, Ella Wilkins
Mentioned briefly: Slytherins: Vincent Crabbe, Tracey Davis, Gryffindors: Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Dhanesh Devi, Hafsa Devi, Dennis Creevey, Ravenclaws: Darius Inglebee, Latisha Randle, Others: Winky, Moaning Myrtle, Amelia Bones, Lucius Malfoy, Wilkins family, Mrs. Wilkins, Mrs. Hutchinson, Hutchinson family, Mrs. Hutchinson
Originally Published: 2018-12-14 on AO3
Chapter: 099 part 2
The original version of this chapter exceeded livejournal’s maximum post length. It’s been split in two parts.
Daphne and Ella take their places in the stands. Without even considering any other options, they'd headed automatically for the Slytherin bleachers, and are now seated amongst piles of their Housemates' things. It's only a quick practice, and they hadn't bothered to get changed; it's not like Harper couldn't cast Cleansing Charms for the lot when they're finished. The girls watch the six of them play Quidditch for a few minutes, and when the players briefly call a halt to the practice to discuss strategy, Ella shouts for Harper, waving her arms.
It doesn't do much good.
Daphne pulls her wand and sends up a shower of sparks, rather predictably predominantly purple and, naturally, sparkly - they are sparks, after all - which gets the job done more elegantly. And with more panache. Daph's hardly the boldest witch in the House, not by a long shot, but she's utterly unapologetic about her likes and dislikes.
Well, almost...
When Harper turns his broom towards them and flies over, she pinks a bit once more and softly announces, "We brought lunch for everyone." She performs an Engorgio to increase the size of the food they've brought. "Ella said you'd asked."
"Oh," he looks a bit concerned, "I did, but at the time I didn't know the girls would be joining us." He indicates the others on the pitch with a jerk of his head. "I don't suppose there's any chance you've brought extras?"
Ella smiles, "Actually, Daph mentioned they should be practising as well, and we've got lunch for eight. We thought we'd make a picnic of it and watch you."
Daph casts Warming Charms on them both, pulls a sheet of parchment from her pile of books and soon has it Transfigured into a green and silver blanket that she spreads out over their laps. That it just so happens to sport a border of snakes is almost certainly purely by coincidence, and not because she's demonstrating her talents once again in response to Ella's praise.
Well, probably not...
Fine. Honestly, it had felt nice, and so what if she's showing off just a little?
The sight of it calls his slippers to mind, and Harper decides he'd like to join them. "Didn't you say you still needed to go to the library?" He asks Ella.
"Yes, but we have a little time yet. We won't need very long together there."
"If you wouldn't mind waiting another fifteen minutes with your lunch, I could come and eat with you then." It gives them an easy out if they'd rather not. The girls look at each other for confirmation and nod, and he smiles, "Set a Tempus and then call us over." Ella's about to object that he hadn't exactly heard her before when he smirks, looking at Daph rather pointedly, "Those sparks should do the trick."
He flies off with a smile, leaving Daphne's cheeks more noticeably rosy in his wake. Reassuring her friend, Ella tells her, "Ignore him. I thought they were pretty and practical." Naturally, Daph only pinks more. "It doesn't always have to be strictly utilitarian, you know."
Daphne is both a bright and skilled witch. Unfortunately she lives in a time when her personal preferences in magic aren't as likely to receive nearly the same attention as they would if she'd been fond of jinxes and hexes, say.
Well, other than the Fairy Wing Charm, that is.
Gregory comes bursting into the lav, thoroughly lacking decorum, but he's rarely all too fussed about that anyway. At the moment he's even less fussed than usual. Blithering something unintelligible about the tail ruining his trousers, he turns his back to them now to ask how bad the tear is.
Theo might have been more considerate about it, but Draco beats him to the punch. "Your arse is completely hanging out." It doesn't leave much to the imagination.
Gregory swallows. He's just run through the Great Hall like that.
The only upside is his arse is a marvel to behold. Gone is the pudge of his youth, those are some rock solid glutes he's worked long and hard to produce, and he's not overly ashamed of having them on view.
Still... Perhaps he should have mended his trousers first before streaking through the Hall. Well, that's not really his strong suit. He been wondering lately what the devil is, he must be good at something, but Mending Charms certainly aren't it. Maybe he should have asked one of the girls. And then he recalls that pretty much no one likes them just now, and that's probably what got him into this mess. This was just like Vince's wings...
Covering his backside with his hands - they're more mitts than hands - just to check the facts, he asks again, "And now? Can you see much now?"
Theo hurries to answer before Draco, because he's decided the world isn't improved any by his answers. "Hardly anything at all," he lies believably, scoring a look of disbelief from Draco for his pains, but he's satisfied with his effort. Well, a great deal less was visible this way, and if Gregory had made a mad dash here, as his entrance suggests, then it's doubtful anyone got to see much.
Unexpectedly, Gregory looks almost disappointed by the response, much to Draco's amusement, and Theo determines to just give up. He can't win for trying today.
"Say, um, would either of you mind..." Gregory looks sheepish, all helpless lamb - which is always disconcerting in someone of his physique, because he could probably flatten either of them in an instant - but both of his roommates take his meaning. Draco twitches his wand first, and soon has a Reparo mending Gregory's pants and then his trousers. The fact he, without asking, also applies a Cleansing Charm to Goyle and a Cleaning Charm to the clothing - just in case - reveals rather a lot about some of his experiences at the Manor, but as the other two share them, albeit to a much lesser extent, no one thinks to note it.
"Thanks," Gregory tells him, quite sincerely.
"What happened?" Theo asks. If he hadn't, Draco would have. With Theo, the enquiry comes with a healthy portion of concern, on Draco's part, the question would have been motivated more by information gathering. Threat assessment is crucial, vital to their success at school. Increasingly, Draco's beginning to suspect that it isn't just a question of success anymore.
This might be about survival.
Not that any of that makes much of a difference in a two word question, but Theo prefers being safe to sorry. Merlin knows how Draco would have phrased it.
Gregory tells them about the strange tail he'd suddenly sported at lunch. He can't do much more than describe it (truthfully, he doesn't even do a great job at that; that's better left to the witnesses); he hasn't a clue why it happened. Both listeners absorb that with sinking feelings.
Merlin.
First Vince.
Now this.
There's no way this ends well for them.
Draco's a little worried about Theo. His friend doesn't even have the sense to make it clear to the rest of the House he has nothing to do with this. If he were smart, he'd distance himself from them.
But Draco can't help noticing no one else came to check on the boy.
He may not think much of himself at the moment, but he's not all that impressed with his Housemates just now either.
Theo had deserved better.
Draco will need to give it some thought, see if there's anything he can do to improve Theo's standing. Not that he's in much of a position to do so... No, the easiest way is probably to convince Theo to cut himself some slack and stand up for himself.
And who knows. If Draco does his job well enough, maybe he can bootstrap his way out of this mess on Theo's coattails.
Gregory disappears into a stall to try to get an impression of any damage the tail may have caused to his skin or tissues. He's happy to provide them with running commentary on various muscle groups that might have been affected.
To be honest, the other two don't particularly care.
Experience shows the spells, once done, usually heal nicely. Only once in a rare while do they go wrong and cause scarring, usually because there was a dark component involved. That's fairly unlikely for something applied in the Great Hall like that with all of staff watching. Gregory seemed certain the Professors had sorted the matter for him. It was gone almost as quickly as it appeared.
There doesn't seem to be any lasting damage, and with that, Draco and Theo's interest in the matter is more or less exhausted. As much to escape Gregory's lecture on the physiology of arses - seriously? - as from any real desire to make it to Runes early, they tell their roommate they need to get going and beat a hasty retreat.
From the sound of it as the door swings to behind them, it hasn't even slowed Gregory's anatomy lesson overmuch.
No, waiting outside Professor Babbling's locked classroom is clearly preferable, bless his fitness obsessed heart.
"Say, Perfesser..." Hagrid begins tentatively when he thinks no one else is listening. Severus turns to look at him. It's far from encouraging, but nowhere near as derisive as he frequently is, and frankly Hagrid is all but inured to that. "Are ye... are ye angry at the boys fer some reason?"
It's unusually astute, and leaves Severus blinking for a moment in silence. There are a variety of responses, and he's trying to decide what's best. He finally settles on a version of the truth. Far closer to the truth than he'd normally be inclined to, but he senses... He feels sure Hagrid will respond to it in a favourable fashion. So there it is.
"You weren't the only one to take objection to the news of my bonding." His voice is low as he answers, and he manages to speak without a note of censure, but Hagrid blushes all the same. "And I found their behaviour towards my bondmate even more... objectionable. Perhaps it's fair to say I'm making sure that's... felt."
Hagrid recognises the truth when he hears it, even a twisted version of it. He looks at the Potions Master appraisingly, feeling even guiltier for his attack on the man Monday. He thinks again about how 'ermione had marched right up to him and demanded he apologise to her bondmate. She certainly didn't hesitate to stand up for him. He has to wonder that she's still able after whatever she'd been through, and with a glance at the Gryffindor table, he's wondering who stands up for her... But he's sure now, whatever else, the Perfesser means the little moppet no harm. That eases his mind some aught.
Their exchange was a quiet one, but not so soft that Minerva didn't pick up on it. She's watching Severus with a thoughtful look now, too, trying to decide how much of the motivation is for his cover, his pride, or perhaps genuinely in the interests of his bondmate.
Severus begins to feel uncomfortable under their combined gazes, although he attributes it mostly to Hagrid. In response, he redirects the half-giant's attention to certain deficits he'd noticed in Crabbe's and Goyle's Care of Magical Creatures work. Pulling his notes on the matter from his pocket, he rattles off a few points, and Hagrid is all too happy to take the pointers. The notion the Slytherins could have been giving 'ermione a difficult time and this might be a way to pay them back for it... Why it just sweetens the pot.
This keeps them occupied for a short while until the chatter at the High Table again lapses into an awkward silence. Some are beginning to wonder if things will ever return to normal. Or if Severus couldn't perhaps find some errand to run...
Albus is in the library when Miss Granger arrives.
He's in the Restricted Section trying to find books on Vows, which seem in unusually thin supply, strangely, and ones that might offer him answers on structuring additional Vows after a bonding. As that topic by and large may be presumed to be a subset of the books on bonds, Severus hadn't shown any interest in them, and Albus is happy to discover those texts, at least, seem to be present and accounted for. He's not entirely certain to what extent the answer to this problem might be a matter of wizarding or the natural magical law, a difference that often poses interesting fodder for debate, and isn't nearly as well documented as one might expect. Certainly not as much as one might hope. The first is what the Ministry of Magic or the International Confederation of Wizards permits, although both organisations much prefer to blur the lines between their decisions and the second, which are the limits of what one is able to do with magic.
Sometimes the latter holds more promise. Just because no one to date has determined how to do a thing doesn't mean it can't be done.
Merlin knows, solving what was heretofore unsolvable is often easier than changing human law. In this the wizarding world is no different to the Muggle one.
Albus is eager to go unnoticed by Miss Granger. He has no desire to speak to her about any of the matters he's researching, not until he has answers, or at the least, suggestions. Unfortunately, she seems intent on camping in front of the Restricted Section, and as he watches her evidently settling in, he resigns himself to using a Notice-Me-Not and a Disillusionment to sneak past her. It strikes him as undignified (he hardly knows the meaning of the word), but he left dignity behind long ago, he's sure.
As recently as sixteen months ago, Severus would have happily disabused him of those notions, but with some regularity, Albus has been playing the 'dying' Exploding Snap card quite well ever since. But seriously, there's been nothing the least bit dignified about the man's wardrobe since Severus has known him.
Albus lifts the spells shortly before he reaches Irma's desk, first the Disillusionment and then the Notice-Me-Not, so he doesn't appear out of thin air, but simply strikes Irma as having gone overlooked. As if that were possible in his coruscating robes of powder blue.
A side effect of the Notice-Me-Not he employed is that no one questions that all too closely. He's an old hand at that.
Irma becomes nervous as Albus approaches. He's coming from the direction the Granger bint had gone, and Irma is perfectly aware that her banning the girl from the Restricted Section was questionable at best. She can't for a moment imagine the girl wouldn't have run crying to the Headmaster about it with him so easily in reach.
Hermione, for her part, had been eager to sneak past the Librarian (although she wasn't nearly as successful as she'd have liked), still quite worried about any aftermath to yesterday's Confunding, and is intent on keeping the lowest imaginable profile at her table. She will not risk getting banned from the entire library, thank you very much.
Goodness, she'd probably chance Obliviating Madam Pince, if it ever came to that.
Hermione's returned to leafing through back issues of the Prophet to see if any of the other hits Luna's Inquiro Searching Charm has detected for 'Prince' are relevant. Hermione's gone back another decade and a half further to look. She knows when Eileen had been a student, after all, and based on that she can estimate when she was born. She's determined to find her birth announcement, and perhaps something about the family that way.
Unfortunately, there is none. She's beginning to suspect these papers will be no more fruitful than the articles yesterday had been.
Irma's behaviour is noticeably strained as she checks out Albus' books for him. It's sufficient that he dips into her thoughts without a second of his own. He's easily twice as bad about that as Severus is, but then he's been doing it a great deal longer, and listening with his mind is almost as natural as listening with his ears these days.
He's rewarded for his efforts with the information that Irma has banned Miss Granger from the Restricted Section, and worries she'll be reprimanded for it. Well not from him. Not today. He has problems of his own to solve first, and he has no desire to try racing Miss Granger to the solution.
And then he gets what he probably deserves for taking a shufti, which is a look at a few pointed thoughts as to his acumen if he's researching bonds after reintroducing the idea, and with no less than three couples at that. Yes, carrying out experiments on students - and staff, too, for the sake of accuracy - is met with some suitably disparaging thoughts.
Hmm.
Well.
She's not exactly wrong, a fact that makes the situation all the more irksome...
They're locked there staring at one another for a moment, each chasing their thoughts when Irma, looking over his shoulder, suddenly flinches. Albus turns to follow her gaze and sees Miss Granger appear, crossing to the area where they keep the back issues of the Daily Prophet. And then he responds reflexively by putting up his Notice-Me-Not.
It's only when Miss Granger returns in the direction of her seat and he reappears that he realises Irma was staring at him the whole time. Notice-Me-Nots simply aren't perfect, and it's always a risk suddenly disappearing - or reappearing, for that matter - when people are watching. She has a broad smirk on her face, there's something a touch ruthless about it, and although she has misunderstood his reason for hiding from Miss Granger, the tone of her thoughts is close enough.
Bugger.
Irma visibly relaxes in front of him, no longer concerned with being rebuked for banning the seventh year. On the contrary, the Librarian seems to feel vindicated in her actions somehow, as though that were related, which it's patently not, and decides to keep on her present course. At the least, as she no longer fears censure, she has no qualms about carrying on.
Albus gives her a penetrating look as she finishes with his books and simply tells her, "I'm quite sure you'll know when the time comes to reverse course." It echoes her thoughts enough to make her start, which is no coincidence. Albus may be exacting a spot of revenge for some of her less kind thoughts. Given he probably should never have been privy to them, that might not be entirely fair.
Of course, he's never been overly concerned with fairness.
He takes his books and waiting until Irma has shifted her focus elsewhere puts them under a Notice-Me-Not and then shrinks the lot. Irma can be... difficult when it comes to her printed charges; there's no point antagonising the witch.
Well... more so.
Severus again finds himself putting an end to the silence, but surely only because this time there's something he wishes to know. "Minerva, you mentioned some 'news'?"
"Oh, of course, you weren't at breakfast, and Miss Jones isn't one of your Potions students, so you won't have heard." She fills him and many of the other teachers who hadn't been privy to the Heads' of House talk with Albus this morning in on the situation with the seventh year Muggle-born. But the news has clearly gotten around, though, as Sarah Sapworthy and the Music instructor had already briefed a number of their colleagues. Amusingly, their spy seems amongst those least well informed of the developments.
He doesn't seem to find it funny.
On the contrary, it seems to be giving him a lot to think about, and it suddenly strikes Minerva as to why that might be. Staff, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley and apparently Miss Weasley are the only ones aware that Miss Granger, Madam Snape was attacked after all. A very few students know there had been an attack, but no more than that. She could see how that might prove... useful.
Severus will need to see how this can be played to their advantage, but he imagines it will remedy the immediate issues with Nott. Or if perhaps not adequate to the task of solving them, it should at least shift the problem. That should be... sufficient.
He shakes himself out of his reverie and asks the other Heads of House, "Have you spoken to your Muggle-born witches about the... inadvisability of a bonding?" They're kind enough not to make any unfortunate remarks in response to that, although it doubtlessly helps that Terrence is busy talking to Rolanda.
Filius squeaks up again, "I spoke to sixth year Latisha Randle. She's too young still, of course, but she's the only Muggle-born witch in my House seeing a pure-blood." Severus raises a brow at that, and Filius amends the statement, "Or half-blood, for that matter."
"That may not be the only issue," Severus protests.
"Well, surely no one would bond someone they weren't involved with," Filius returns. Severus' brow shoots up again, and this time it seems intent on reaching his hairline. "Oh, I don't mean to insinuate anything, Severus. Of course not." Severus could swear Pomona is once again giggling something about 'canoodling'. He wonders if there's a spell for that. Besides an Obliviate, that is. Perhaps he could cast a Taboo on the word... He's not sure what Pomona is on about, but he has enough experience with his colleagues to suspect he wouldn't like the answer. Not in the least.
"But you must admit your circumstances are highly unusual. I don't think we have to worry they'll be duplicated anytime soon."
"Let us hope not," he agrees dryly.
Minerva's Muggle-borns, those who are remotely of age, are already bonded, she informs them with a pinched look about her. No one else is close.
Pomona reports that she had spoken to Miss Jones, "And, well, you see what came of it... If anything I seem to have scared her further."
Conversation again comes to a standstill.
Pomona is back to appearing crestfallen, and Filius makes a renewed effort to try to keep things going. He cheerily tells Severus, "Do you know, I had the oddest talk with Miss Devi yesterday. I think she would have made an excellent Slytherin." Minerva sputters, and Filius offers an apologetic, "So sorry, my dear," and then proceeds to tell them how the young woman had negotiated for him to teach her the Counter for her brother's Mouse Tail Charm in exchange for her book.
"Filius, you can't mean to keep her book..." Pomona chides, tutting her objection. Filius hides his grin. He knew that would take Pomona's mind off Miss Jones.
"Before she does anything else even more careless with it, I most certainly can. But never fear, my dear lady, she can have it back at any time. I think of it as a loan. It's fascinating stuff really. A very interesting read."
Poppy arrives, throwing herself gracelessly into an available seat with a heavy sigh of, "Circe."
"Oh, Poppy, I think I have good news for you. Severus probably solved the issue with Mr. Inglebee," Filius informs her cheerfully.
Poppy doesn't look especially relieved. No, instead she snorts in a most unladylike fashion, "That's the least he can do." She swivels to face Severus, "Do you know I've had my wand busy most of the morning trying to bring Mr. Crabbe's ears to a halt."
"You say that as if I were the one to have hexed him." Severus answers rather deliberately with a smirk, Filius winces, and Severus corrects, "I meant 'jinxed', of course." As long as it's just the staff, he can't resist baiting Filius from time to time. "You'll forgive me, Poppy, but his ears were your priority?"
"Oh, I scarcely knew where to begin." She waves a hand about as if to illustrate that. "His wings definitely weren't going anywhere. Well, beyond back and forth, that is."
"Wings?" Filius asks. A suspicious mind might suspect hopefully.
"Wings," Poppy confirms. "Purple, sparkly, flashy things." That draws several curious looks, and she regales the table with tales of the hexes... jinxes employed. All agree they've never heard of the Fairy Wing Charm before. (A fair few will be stopping by the Infirmary to see it. Purely to satisfy their academic curiosity, it should go without saying.) When asked, Poppy admits she took a picture of it. "That's the sort of thing that requires documenting."
Clearly.
More than one of her colleagues will be requesting a copy. It unquestionably helps that Mr. Crabbe isn't well liked.
"The skin on his back is sorted, as are his lacerations, allergies and nose. His hair and nails are stuck that way, I'm afraid. At least until they grow out. But there's always a glamour or a Nail Polish or Hair Colour Charm, if he tires of the look before then."
"I imagine he's... tired of them already," Severus allows wryly. "Nevertheless, it would surprise me, greatly, were he to trouble himself so far as to learn one of the Charms for that purpose."
"Well, perhaps one of his Housemates will help him with that. I find the girls tend to know those Charms fairly well," Septima comments.
Severus merely nods. "Possibly." Truthfully, it would surprise him even more if one of them were willing to help Crabbe after what he'd observed this morning in his House. Poppy is entirely of his opinion, but not in the least inclined to share what she knows of Friday evening's events.
"Thank you, by the way, Severus, for the flowers yesterday. They're absolutely lovely," Poppy gushes, well aware the other faculty members are listening. He deserves a bit of praise and the attendant recognition for his actions from his peers.
Severus, for his part, has a pretty good idea what she's up to, but recognises she avoided saying anything in front of students, which he appreciates. He nods, but doesn't permit her to draw him into conversation about them.
Not that it stops her from trying.
Still, Poppy's ease with him proves contagious, and the others now find themselves finally beginning to relax. No longer as worried about saying the wrong thing or his possible response, normal chatter resumes.
"Did you see that Barry the roofer with vertigo died?" Septima asks, referring to an article in this morning's Daily Prophet.
Sybill is quick to reply, "I saw that coming."
Minerva scoffs, "Everyone saw that coming."
"How did he do it anyway? Roofing? With his condition?" Sarah asks.
The answers come almost as one.
"Charms to lift the materials. Magic would permit him to do most of the work from the ground," Filius suggests.
"I'm sure there's a Potion," Rolanda answers. "There always is," she grins mischievously at Severus, who refuses to rise to her bait.
"Treatment from a certified Mediwitch," Poppy replies with confidence.
"Medicinal herbs," Pomona offers. Naturally.
Filius snorts into his cup.
"And here I'd have thought that more likely to contribute to a fall..." Severus drawls, finally allowing himself to be drawn in.
"I meant Brugmansia. Extracting the Scopolamine for vertigo," Pomona.
"Let's hope that's all he was using it for," mutters Severus. The events of the past several days have severely coloured his thinking.
Hagrid, meanwhile tells Minerva he's going to try following Severus' advice and take a page from her book, assigning detentions to the boys who hadn't done his assigned homework. "The Perfesser says they've got some kin' er wager goin'." Severus doesn't smirk, he's better than that, but his ears prick up. That hadn't taken long, and Hagrid has already twisted his words beyond recognition.
Minerva twists her head, swivelling to look from Hagrid to Severus, a bit taken aback that Severus - of all their colleagues - should be offering Hagrid advice on managing his students. That's somewhat unfair, of course, as he's always been fairly quick to inform others they're... too lax. On the other hand, he isn't given to repeating himself that often, and Hagrid has proven impervious to that suggestion for years now, inclined to make excuses for the students that they themselves would never have been bold enough to proffer.
His 'Hippogriff ate their homework' was a perennial classic.
"I imagine I came across an instance of that just yesterday. Mr. Malfoy arrived in my classroom, unprepared, suggesting he'd done the work but claiming to have simply misplaced it. Normally I'd discount that entirely, but I had wondered...
"He's done that a grand total of twice in all the years prior, both times last year, and both times he was rewarded for the insufficient effort with detention. I rather thought I had cured him of it, he'd gotten it out of his system, and there we were yesterday morning all over again."
Clearly considering the incident, she turns to face Severus squarely. Speaking more slowly, she tries to choose her words with care. "I assumed he had hit a rough patch last year. The situation with his family..." She needn't say more. The Prophet had kept everyone only too well informed of that. Well, until it hadn't, but the pertinent points were known. Lucius, now a convicted Death Eater, had landed in Azkaban. Minerva, however, hasn't much in the way of an Exploding Snap face, and she begins to look concerned, "It had... nothing to do with what happened this weekend, did it?"
A few around them tense, all very well aware there had been an attack on Miss Granger - last weekend - and that phrase was guaranteed to make at least some of them wonder. Severus silently curses her lack of circumspection. But he's an old hand at this and looking her straight in the eye, he replies, "I can promise you he didn't fail to do his homework because of anything that took place this weekend, despite that terrible tumble down the Great Staircase and the plethora of resultant injuries, impressively enough."
That seems like a perfectly reasonable explanation for what Minerva must have meant - oh, of course, his horrific fall - and just like that, they stop wondering.
Pomona's reaction is practically a given. She's quick to reproach Minerva for giving the boy detention for a missing assignment after he'd injured himself so badly. Hagrid, amusingly, comes to her defence. "But the Perfesser said we should."
Although that's perfectly true, Minerva had no way of knowing it at the time. Slightly amused by that fact, she thanks their Groundskeeper for his efforts just the same.
A/N:
Lauren, you're lovely. Here's something to read with dinner. ❤️
Sorry guys, wandered off to play with contacts. That went about as well as things usually do.
Severus Snape, Hermione Granger, Staff: Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, Filius Flitwick, Pomona Sprout, Poppy Pomfrey, Sybill Trelawney, Professor Sarah Sapworthy, Hagrid, Professor Call-Me-Terry Taylor, Irma Pince, Nurse Wanda Wainscott, Rolanda Hooch, Septima Vector, Charity Burbage, Slytherins: Draco Malfoy, Theo Nott, Gregory Goyle, Daphne Greengrass, Harper Hutchinson, Ella Wilkins
Mentioned briefly: Slytherins: Vincent Crabbe, Tracey Davis, Gryffindors: Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Dhanesh Devi, Hafsa Devi, Dennis Creevey, Ravenclaws: Darius Inglebee, Latisha Randle, Others: Winky, Moaning Myrtle, Amelia Bones, Lucius Malfoy, Wilkins family, Mrs. Wilkins, Mrs. Hutchinson, Hutchinson family, Mrs. Hutchinson
Originally Published: 2018-12-14 on AO3
Chapter: 099 part 2
The original version of this chapter exceeded livejournal’s maximum post length. It’s been split in two parts.
Daphne and Ella take their places in the stands. Without even considering any other options, they'd headed automatically for the Slytherin bleachers, and are now seated amongst piles of their Housemates' things. It's only a quick practice, and they hadn't bothered to get changed; it's not like Harper couldn't cast Cleansing Charms for the lot when they're finished. The girls watch the six of them play Quidditch for a few minutes, and when the players briefly call a halt to the practice to discuss strategy, Ella shouts for Harper, waving her arms.
It doesn't do much good.
Daphne pulls her wand and sends up a shower of sparks, rather predictably predominantly purple and, naturally, sparkly - they are sparks, after all - which gets the job done more elegantly. And with more panache. Daph's hardly the boldest witch in the House, not by a long shot, but she's utterly unapologetic about her likes and dislikes.
Well, almost...
When Harper turns his broom towards them and flies over, she pinks a bit once more and softly announces, "We brought lunch for everyone." She performs an Engorgio to increase the size of the food they've brought. "Ella said you'd asked."
"Oh," he looks a bit concerned, "I did, but at the time I didn't know the girls would be joining us." He indicates the others on the pitch with a jerk of his head. "I don't suppose there's any chance you've brought extras?"
Ella smiles, "Actually, Daph mentioned they should be practising as well, and we've got lunch for eight. We thought we'd make a picnic of it and watch you."
Daph casts Warming Charms on them both, pulls a sheet of parchment from her pile of books and soon has it Transfigured into a green and silver blanket that she spreads out over their laps. That it just so happens to sport a border of snakes is almost certainly purely by coincidence, and not because she's demonstrating her talents once again in response to Ella's praise.
Well, probably not...
Fine. Honestly, it had felt nice, and so what if she's showing off just a little?
The sight of it calls his slippers to mind, and Harper decides he'd like to join them. "Didn't you say you still needed to go to the library?" He asks Ella.
"Yes, but we have a little time yet. We won't need very long together there."
"If you wouldn't mind waiting another fifteen minutes with your lunch, I could come and eat with you then." It gives them an easy out if they'd rather not. The girls look at each other for confirmation and nod, and he smiles, "Set a Tempus and then call us over." Ella's about to object that he hadn't exactly heard her before when he smirks, looking at Daph rather pointedly, "Those sparks should do the trick."
He flies off with a smile, leaving Daphne's cheeks more noticeably rosy in his wake. Reassuring her friend, Ella tells her, "Ignore him. I thought they were pretty and practical." Naturally, Daph only pinks more. "It doesn't always have to be strictly utilitarian, you know."
Daphne is both a bright and skilled witch. Unfortunately she lives in a time when her personal preferences in magic aren't as likely to receive nearly the same attention as they would if she'd been fond of jinxes and hexes, say.
Well, other than the Fairy Wing Charm, that is.
Gregory comes bursting into the lav, thoroughly lacking decorum, but he's rarely all too fussed about that anyway. At the moment he's even less fussed than usual. Blithering something unintelligible about the tail ruining his trousers, he turns his back to them now to ask how bad the tear is.
Theo might have been more considerate about it, but Draco beats him to the punch. "Your arse is completely hanging out." It doesn't leave much to the imagination.
Gregory swallows. He's just run through the Great Hall like that.
The only upside is his arse is a marvel to behold. Gone is the pudge of his youth, those are some rock solid glutes he's worked long and hard to produce, and he's not overly ashamed of having them on view.
Still... Perhaps he should have mended his trousers first before streaking through the Hall. Well, that's not really his strong suit. He been wondering lately what the devil is, he must be good at something, but Mending Charms certainly aren't it. Maybe he should have asked one of the girls. And then he recalls that pretty much no one likes them just now, and that's probably what got him into this mess. This was just like Vince's wings...
Covering his backside with his hands - they're more mitts than hands - just to check the facts, he asks again, "And now? Can you see much now?"
Theo hurries to answer before Draco, because he's decided the world isn't improved any by his answers. "Hardly anything at all," he lies believably, scoring a look of disbelief from Draco for his pains, but he's satisfied with his effort. Well, a great deal less was visible this way, and if Gregory had made a mad dash here, as his entrance suggests, then it's doubtful anyone got to see much.
Unexpectedly, Gregory looks almost disappointed by the response, much to Draco's amusement, and Theo determines to just give up. He can't win for trying today.
"Say, um, would either of you mind..." Gregory looks sheepish, all helpless lamb - which is always disconcerting in someone of his physique, because he could probably flatten either of them in an instant - but both of his roommates take his meaning. Draco twitches his wand first, and soon has a Reparo mending Gregory's pants and then his trousers. The fact he, without asking, also applies a Cleansing Charm to Goyle and a Cleaning Charm to the clothing - just in case - reveals rather a lot about some of his experiences at the Manor, but as the other two share them, albeit to a much lesser extent, no one thinks to note it.
"Thanks," Gregory tells him, quite sincerely.
"What happened?" Theo asks. If he hadn't, Draco would have. With Theo, the enquiry comes with a healthy portion of concern, on Draco's part, the question would have been motivated more by information gathering. Threat assessment is crucial, vital to their success at school. Increasingly, Draco's beginning to suspect that it isn't just a question of success anymore.
This might be about survival.
Not that any of that makes much of a difference in a two word question, but Theo prefers being safe to sorry. Merlin knows how Draco would have phrased it.
Gregory tells them about the strange tail he'd suddenly sported at lunch. He can't do much more than describe it (truthfully, he doesn't even do a great job at that; that's better left to the witnesses); he hasn't a clue why it happened. Both listeners absorb that with sinking feelings.
Merlin.
First Vince.
Now this.
There's no way this ends well for them.
Draco's a little worried about Theo. His friend doesn't even have the sense to make it clear to the rest of the House he has nothing to do with this. If he were smart, he'd distance himself from them.
But Draco can't help noticing no one else came to check on the boy.
He may not think much of himself at the moment, but he's not all that impressed with his Housemates just now either.
Theo had deserved better.
Draco will need to give it some thought, see if there's anything he can do to improve Theo's standing. Not that he's in much of a position to do so... No, the easiest way is probably to convince Theo to cut himself some slack and stand up for himself.
And who knows. If Draco does his job well enough, maybe he can bootstrap his way out of this mess on Theo's coattails.
Gregory disappears into a stall to try to get an impression of any damage the tail may have caused to his skin or tissues. He's happy to provide them with running commentary on various muscle groups that might have been affected.
To be honest, the other two don't particularly care.
Experience shows the spells, once done, usually heal nicely. Only once in a rare while do they go wrong and cause scarring, usually because there was a dark component involved. That's fairly unlikely for something applied in the Great Hall like that with all of staff watching. Gregory seemed certain the Professors had sorted the matter for him. It was gone almost as quickly as it appeared.
There doesn't seem to be any lasting damage, and with that, Draco and Theo's interest in the matter is more or less exhausted. As much to escape Gregory's lecture on the physiology of arses - seriously? - as from any real desire to make it to Runes early, they tell their roommate they need to get going and beat a hasty retreat.
From the sound of it as the door swings to behind them, it hasn't even slowed Gregory's anatomy lesson overmuch.
No, waiting outside Professor Babbling's locked classroom is clearly preferable, bless his fitness obsessed heart.
"Say, Perfesser..." Hagrid begins tentatively when he thinks no one else is listening. Severus turns to look at him. It's far from encouraging, but nowhere near as derisive as he frequently is, and frankly Hagrid is all but inured to that. "Are ye... are ye angry at the boys fer some reason?"
It's unusually astute, and leaves Severus blinking for a moment in silence. There are a variety of responses, and he's trying to decide what's best. He finally settles on a version of the truth. Far closer to the truth than he'd normally be inclined to, but he senses... He feels sure Hagrid will respond to it in a favourable fashion. So there it is.
"You weren't the only one to take objection to the news of my bonding." His voice is low as he answers, and he manages to speak without a note of censure, but Hagrid blushes all the same. "And I found their behaviour towards my bondmate even more... objectionable. Perhaps it's fair to say I'm making sure that's... felt."
Hagrid recognises the truth when he hears it, even a twisted version of it. He looks at the Potions Master appraisingly, feeling even guiltier for his attack on the man Monday. He thinks again about how 'ermione had marched right up to him and demanded he apologise to her bondmate. She certainly didn't hesitate to stand up for him. He has to wonder that she's still able after whatever she'd been through, and with a glance at the Gryffindor table, he's wondering who stands up for her... But he's sure now, whatever else, the Perfesser means the little moppet no harm. That eases his mind some aught.
Their exchange was a quiet one, but not so soft that Minerva didn't pick up on it. She's watching Severus with a thoughtful look now, too, trying to decide how much of the motivation is for his cover, his pride, or perhaps genuinely in the interests of his bondmate.
Severus begins to feel uncomfortable under their combined gazes, although he attributes it mostly to Hagrid. In response, he redirects the half-giant's attention to certain deficits he'd noticed in Crabbe's and Goyle's Care of Magical Creatures work. Pulling his notes on the matter from his pocket, he rattles off a few points, and Hagrid is all too happy to take the pointers. The notion the Slytherins could have been giving 'ermione a difficult time and this might be a way to pay them back for it... Why it just sweetens the pot.
This keeps them occupied for a short while until the chatter at the High Table again lapses into an awkward silence. Some are beginning to wonder if things will ever return to normal. Or if Severus couldn't perhaps find some errand to run...
Albus is in the library when Miss Granger arrives.
He's in the Restricted Section trying to find books on Vows, which seem in unusually thin supply, strangely, and ones that might offer him answers on structuring additional Vows after a bonding. As that topic by and large may be presumed to be a subset of the books on bonds, Severus hadn't shown any interest in them, and Albus is happy to discover those texts, at least, seem to be present and accounted for. He's not entirely certain to what extent the answer to this problem might be a matter of wizarding or the natural magical law, a difference that often poses interesting fodder for debate, and isn't nearly as well documented as one might expect. Certainly not as much as one might hope. The first is what the Ministry of Magic or the International Confederation of Wizards permits, although both organisations much prefer to blur the lines between their decisions and the second, which are the limits of what one is able to do with magic.
Sometimes the latter holds more promise. Just because no one to date has determined how to do a thing doesn't mean it can't be done.
Merlin knows, solving what was heretofore unsolvable is often easier than changing human law. In this the wizarding world is no different to the Muggle one.
Albus is eager to go unnoticed by Miss Granger. He has no desire to speak to her about any of the matters he's researching, not until he has answers, or at the least, suggestions. Unfortunately, she seems intent on camping in front of the Restricted Section, and as he watches her evidently settling in, he resigns himself to using a Notice-Me-Not and a Disillusionment to sneak past her. It strikes him as undignified (he hardly knows the meaning of the word), but he left dignity behind long ago, he's sure.
As recently as sixteen months ago, Severus would have happily disabused him of those notions, but with some regularity, Albus has been playing the 'dying' Exploding Snap card quite well ever since. But seriously, there's been nothing the least bit dignified about the man's wardrobe since Severus has known him.
Albus lifts the spells shortly before he reaches Irma's desk, first the Disillusionment and then the Notice-Me-Not, so he doesn't appear out of thin air, but simply strikes Irma as having gone overlooked. As if that were possible in his coruscating robes of powder blue.
A side effect of the Notice-Me-Not he employed is that no one questions that all too closely. He's an old hand at that.
Irma becomes nervous as Albus approaches. He's coming from the direction the Granger bint had gone, and Irma is perfectly aware that her banning the girl from the Restricted Section was questionable at best. She can't for a moment imagine the girl wouldn't have run crying to the Headmaster about it with him so easily in reach.
Hermione, for her part, had been eager to sneak past the Librarian (although she wasn't nearly as successful as she'd have liked), still quite worried about any aftermath to yesterday's Confunding, and is intent on keeping the lowest imaginable profile at her table. She will not risk getting banned from the entire library, thank you very much.
Goodness, she'd probably chance Obliviating Madam Pince, if it ever came to that.
Hermione's returned to leafing through back issues of the Prophet to see if any of the other hits Luna's Inquiro Searching Charm has detected for 'Prince' are relevant. Hermione's gone back another decade and a half further to look. She knows when Eileen had been a student, after all, and based on that she can estimate when she was born. She's determined to find her birth announcement, and perhaps something about the family that way.
Unfortunately, there is none. She's beginning to suspect these papers will be no more fruitful than the articles yesterday had been.
Irma's behaviour is noticeably strained as she checks out Albus' books for him. It's sufficient that he dips into her thoughts without a second of his own. He's easily twice as bad about that as Severus is, but then he's been doing it a great deal longer, and listening with his mind is almost as natural as listening with his ears these days.
He's rewarded for his efforts with the information that Irma has banned Miss Granger from the Restricted Section, and worries she'll be reprimanded for it. Well not from him. Not today. He has problems of his own to solve first, and he has no desire to try racing Miss Granger to the solution.
And then he gets what he probably deserves for taking a shufti, which is a look at a few pointed thoughts as to his acumen if he's researching bonds after reintroducing the idea, and with no less than three couples at that. Yes, carrying out experiments on students - and staff, too, for the sake of accuracy - is met with some suitably disparaging thoughts.
Hmm.
Well.
She's not exactly wrong, a fact that makes the situation all the more irksome...
They're locked there staring at one another for a moment, each chasing their thoughts when Irma, looking over his shoulder, suddenly flinches. Albus turns to follow her gaze and sees Miss Granger appear, crossing to the area where they keep the back issues of the Daily Prophet. And then he responds reflexively by putting up his Notice-Me-Not.
It's only when Miss Granger returns in the direction of her seat and he reappears that he realises Irma was staring at him the whole time. Notice-Me-Nots simply aren't perfect, and it's always a risk suddenly disappearing - or reappearing, for that matter - when people are watching. She has a broad smirk on her face, there's something a touch ruthless about it, and although she has misunderstood his reason for hiding from Miss Granger, the tone of her thoughts is close enough.
Bugger.
Irma visibly relaxes in front of him, no longer concerned with being rebuked for banning the seventh year. On the contrary, the Librarian seems to feel vindicated in her actions somehow, as though that were related, which it's patently not, and decides to keep on her present course. At the least, as she no longer fears censure, she has no qualms about carrying on.
Albus gives her a penetrating look as she finishes with his books and simply tells her, "I'm quite sure you'll know when the time comes to reverse course." It echoes her thoughts enough to make her start, which is no coincidence. Albus may be exacting a spot of revenge for some of her less kind thoughts. Given he probably should never have been privy to them, that might not be entirely fair.
Of course, he's never been overly concerned with fairness.
He takes his books and waiting until Irma has shifted her focus elsewhere puts them under a Notice-Me-Not and then shrinks the lot. Irma can be... difficult when it comes to her printed charges; there's no point antagonising the witch.
Well... more so.
Severus again finds himself putting an end to the silence, but surely only because this time there's something he wishes to know. "Minerva, you mentioned some 'news'?"
"Oh, of course, you weren't at breakfast, and Miss Jones isn't one of your Potions students, so you won't have heard." She fills him and many of the other teachers who hadn't been privy to the Heads' of House talk with Albus this morning in on the situation with the seventh year Muggle-born. But the news has clearly gotten around, though, as Sarah Sapworthy and the Music instructor had already briefed a number of their colleagues. Amusingly, their spy seems amongst those least well informed of the developments.
He doesn't seem to find it funny.
On the contrary, it seems to be giving him a lot to think about, and it suddenly strikes Minerva as to why that might be. Staff, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley and apparently Miss Weasley are the only ones aware that Miss Granger, Madam Snape was attacked after all. A very few students know there had been an attack, but no more than that. She could see how that might prove... useful.
Severus will need to see how this can be played to their advantage, but he imagines it will remedy the immediate issues with Nott. Or if perhaps not adequate to the task of solving them, it should at least shift the problem. That should be... sufficient.
He shakes himself out of his reverie and asks the other Heads of House, "Have you spoken to your Muggle-born witches about the... inadvisability of a bonding?" They're kind enough not to make any unfortunate remarks in response to that, although it doubtlessly helps that Terrence is busy talking to Rolanda.
Filius squeaks up again, "I spoke to sixth year Latisha Randle. She's too young still, of course, but she's the only Muggle-born witch in my House seeing a pure-blood." Severus raises a brow at that, and Filius amends the statement, "Or half-blood, for that matter."
"That may not be the only issue," Severus protests.
"Well, surely no one would bond someone they weren't involved with," Filius returns. Severus' brow shoots up again, and this time it seems intent on reaching his hairline. "Oh, I don't mean to insinuate anything, Severus. Of course not." Severus could swear Pomona is once again giggling something about 'canoodling'. He wonders if there's a spell for that. Besides an Obliviate, that is. Perhaps he could cast a Taboo on the word... He's not sure what Pomona is on about, but he has enough experience with his colleagues to suspect he wouldn't like the answer. Not in the least.
"But you must admit your circumstances are highly unusual. I don't think we have to worry they'll be duplicated anytime soon."
"Let us hope not," he agrees dryly.
Minerva's Muggle-borns, those who are remotely of age, are already bonded, she informs them with a pinched look about her. No one else is close.
Pomona reports that she had spoken to Miss Jones, "And, well, you see what came of it... If anything I seem to have scared her further."
Conversation again comes to a standstill.
Pomona is back to appearing crestfallen, and Filius makes a renewed effort to try to keep things going. He cheerily tells Severus, "Do you know, I had the oddest talk with Miss Devi yesterday. I think she would have made an excellent Slytherin." Minerva sputters, and Filius offers an apologetic, "So sorry, my dear," and then proceeds to tell them how the young woman had negotiated for him to teach her the Counter for her brother's Mouse Tail Charm in exchange for her book.
"Filius, you can't mean to keep her book..." Pomona chides, tutting her objection. Filius hides his grin. He knew that would take Pomona's mind off Miss Jones.
"Before she does anything else even more careless with it, I most certainly can. But never fear, my dear lady, she can have it back at any time. I think of it as a loan. It's fascinating stuff really. A very interesting read."
Poppy arrives, throwing herself gracelessly into an available seat with a heavy sigh of, "Circe."
"Oh, Poppy, I think I have good news for you. Severus probably solved the issue with Mr. Inglebee," Filius informs her cheerfully.
Poppy doesn't look especially relieved. No, instead she snorts in a most unladylike fashion, "That's the least he can do." She swivels to face Severus, "Do you know I've had my wand busy most of the morning trying to bring Mr. Crabbe's ears to a halt."
"You say that as if I were the one to have hexed him." Severus answers rather deliberately with a smirk, Filius winces, and Severus corrects, "I meant 'jinxed', of course." As long as it's just the staff, he can't resist baiting Filius from time to time. "You'll forgive me, Poppy, but his ears were your priority?"
"Oh, I scarcely knew where to begin." She waves a hand about as if to illustrate that. "His wings definitely weren't going anywhere. Well, beyond back and forth, that is."
"Wings?" Filius asks. A suspicious mind might suspect hopefully.
"Wings," Poppy confirms. "Purple, sparkly, flashy things." That draws several curious looks, and she regales the table with tales of the hexes... jinxes employed. All agree they've never heard of the Fairy Wing Charm before. (A fair few will be stopping by the Infirmary to see it. Purely to satisfy their academic curiosity, it should go without saying.) When asked, Poppy admits she took a picture of it. "That's the sort of thing that requires documenting."
Clearly.
More than one of her colleagues will be requesting a copy. It unquestionably helps that Mr. Crabbe isn't well liked.
"The skin on his back is sorted, as are his lacerations, allergies and nose. His hair and nails are stuck that way, I'm afraid. At least until they grow out. But there's always a glamour or a Nail Polish or Hair Colour Charm, if he tires of the look before then."
"I imagine he's... tired of them already," Severus allows wryly. "Nevertheless, it would surprise me, greatly, were he to trouble himself so far as to learn one of the Charms for that purpose."
"Well, perhaps one of his Housemates will help him with that. I find the girls tend to know those Charms fairly well," Septima comments.
Severus merely nods. "Possibly." Truthfully, it would surprise him even more if one of them were willing to help Crabbe after what he'd observed this morning in his House. Poppy is entirely of his opinion, but not in the least inclined to share what she knows of Friday evening's events.
"Thank you, by the way, Severus, for the flowers yesterday. They're absolutely lovely," Poppy gushes, well aware the other faculty members are listening. He deserves a bit of praise and the attendant recognition for his actions from his peers.
Severus, for his part, has a pretty good idea what she's up to, but recognises she avoided saying anything in front of students, which he appreciates. He nods, but doesn't permit her to draw him into conversation about them.
Not that it stops her from trying.
Still, Poppy's ease with him proves contagious, and the others now find themselves finally beginning to relax. No longer as worried about saying the wrong thing or his possible response, normal chatter resumes.
"Did you see that Barry the roofer with vertigo died?" Septima asks, referring to an article in this morning's Daily Prophet.
Sybill is quick to reply, "I saw that coming."
Minerva scoffs, "Everyone saw that coming."
"How did he do it anyway? Roofing? With his condition?" Sarah asks.
The answers come almost as one.
"Charms to lift the materials. Magic would permit him to do most of the work from the ground," Filius suggests.
"I'm sure there's a Potion," Rolanda answers. "There always is," she grins mischievously at Severus, who refuses to rise to her bait.
"Treatment from a certified Mediwitch," Poppy replies with confidence.
"Medicinal herbs," Pomona offers. Naturally.
Filius snorts into his cup.
"And here I'd have thought that more likely to contribute to a fall..." Severus drawls, finally allowing himself to be drawn in.
"I meant Brugmansia. Extracting the Scopolamine for vertigo," Pomona.
"Let's hope that's all he was using it for," mutters Severus. The events of the past several days have severely coloured his thinking.
Hagrid, meanwhile tells Minerva he's going to try following Severus' advice and take a page from her book, assigning detentions to the boys who hadn't done his assigned homework. "The Perfesser says they've got some kin' er wager goin'." Severus doesn't smirk, he's better than that, but his ears prick up. That hadn't taken long, and Hagrid has already twisted his words beyond recognition.
Minerva twists her head, swivelling to look from Hagrid to Severus, a bit taken aback that Severus - of all their colleagues - should be offering Hagrid advice on managing his students. That's somewhat unfair, of course, as he's always been fairly quick to inform others they're... too lax. On the other hand, he isn't given to repeating himself that often, and Hagrid has proven impervious to that suggestion for years now, inclined to make excuses for the students that they themselves would never have been bold enough to proffer.
His 'Hippogriff ate their homework' was a perennial classic.
"I imagine I came across an instance of that just yesterday. Mr. Malfoy arrived in my classroom, unprepared, suggesting he'd done the work but claiming to have simply misplaced it. Normally I'd discount that entirely, but I had wondered...
"He's done that a grand total of twice in all the years prior, both times last year, and both times he was rewarded for the insufficient effort with detention. I rather thought I had cured him of it, he'd gotten it out of his system, and there we were yesterday morning all over again."
Clearly considering the incident, she turns to face Severus squarely. Speaking more slowly, she tries to choose her words with care. "I assumed he had hit a rough patch last year. The situation with his family..." She needn't say more. The Prophet had kept everyone only too well informed of that. Well, until it hadn't, but the pertinent points were known. Lucius, now a convicted Death Eater, had landed in Azkaban. Minerva, however, hasn't much in the way of an Exploding Snap face, and she begins to look concerned, "It had... nothing to do with what happened this weekend, did it?"
A few around them tense, all very well aware there had been an attack on Miss Granger - last weekend - and that phrase was guaranteed to make at least some of them wonder. Severus silently curses her lack of circumspection. But he's an old hand at this and looking her straight in the eye, he replies, "I can promise you he didn't fail to do his homework because of anything that took place this weekend, despite that terrible tumble down the Great Staircase and the plethora of resultant injuries, impressively enough."
That seems like a perfectly reasonable explanation for what Minerva must have meant - oh, of course, his horrific fall - and just like that, they stop wondering.
Pomona's reaction is practically a given. She's quick to reproach Minerva for giving the boy detention for a missing assignment after he'd injured himself so badly. Hagrid, amusingly, comes to her defence. "But the Perfesser said we should."
Although that's perfectly true, Minerva had no way of knowing it at the time. Slightly amused by that fact, she thanks their Groundskeeper for his efforts just the same.
A/N:
Lauren, you're lovely. Here's something to read with dinner. ❤️
Sorry guys, wandered off to play with contacts. That went about as well as things usually do.