“beyond wandpoint” 112a by gingerbred
“11 12y Wednesday - (Un)expected Reactions” Part 1
Vince finally exacts his revenge on Harper for the pictures he took this morning. The other Snakes respond. Pansy stages an intervention for Millie and tries to make sure her Snakelettes are with the programme.
Slytherins: Vincent Crabbe, Daphne Greengrass, Tracey Davis, Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode, Alberta Runcorn, Harper Hutchinson, Aaron Avery, Torsten Touchstone, Ella Wilkins, Róisín Rosier, Bartholomew Burke, Ava Avery, Hunter Hutchinson, Wilfred Wilkes, Anneliese Burke
Mentioned briefly: Severus, Hermione, Slytherins: Draco Malfoy, Sheldon Shafiq, Tomasina Touchstone, Portraits: Phineas Nigellus Black, Wilhelmina Wilkes, Others: Crankshaft, Shawshank, Slinky
Originally Published: 2019-09-23 on LJ / DW this chapter has been pre-dated
Chapter: 112 part 1 Characters:
Slytherins: Vincent 'Vince' Crabbe 7S (Beater, Inferi Princess), Daphne Greengrass 7S (Sparkly! Fwoopers!), Tracey Davis 7S (Swottier), Pansy Parkinson 7S (Prefect), Millicent 'Millie' Bulstrode (Reserve Beater, yes, that.), Alberta Runcorn 7S (Grumpy.), Harper Hutchinson 6S (Prefect, Chaser, flash Robe Model), Aaron Avery 6S (Reserve Chaser), Torsten 'Tor' Touchstone 6S (sleepyhead, heir to the Touchstone fortune), Ella Wilkins 6S (Prefect), Róisín Rosier 6S (her aunt Rosemary died in the last war before Róisín was born after bonding Willem Wilkes), Bartholomew 'Bart' Burke 5S (sallow), Ava Avery 5S, Hunter Hutchinson 4S (Imp, one third of the Trio of Terror), Wilfred Wilkes 4S (Messenger Boy), Anneliese 'Lisa' Burke 4S (Searing Sousaphone Soloist)
Mentioned briefly: Severus (HoS, Potions), Hermione 7G (Prefect, Supreme Swot), Slytherins: Draco 7S (Prefect, Team Captain, Seeker, Swot), Sheldon Shafiq 6S (Reserve Beater, and charm on legs), Tomasina Touchstone 5S (Prefect, Potions savvy heiress), Portraits: Headmaster Phineas Nigellus Black (past HoS), Wilhelmina Wilkes (past HoS, DADA Instructor), Others: Crankshaft (Harper's half-Kneazle), Shawshank (the Shafiqs' half-Kneazle), Slinky (the Slytherin House's chief house elf)
A/N: I'll eventually be shifting this chapter back into 112, where it fits time-wise. (Not sure why I thought cutting the Snakelets till later was the better option, but now it's offending my sensibilities. Like I couldn't have predicted that... lol mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa...) But ya gotta love the flexibility this format allows...
Previously on 'Days and Nights of Our Young Snakes'...
Tuesday evening. Having heard from the Poste Serpentes that the seventh years are somehow responsible for Severus being forced to bond Hermione (065 LJ / DW), the girls agree to put a stop to all... relations with the seventh year boys, to render them as miserable as sensibly (or magically) possible while about it, and to at least make an effort to see that the Head isn't required to act on his Protection Vow. (083a LJ / DW)
In an attempt to avenge their Head of House for the seventh years' involvement in the Great Bonding Debacle of '97, various third through sixth year Slytherin boys take a shot at hexing Vince Tuesday night while he's... stuck to one of the common room couches. (That courtesy of Harper; he's often remarkably helpful that way.) And if in the process it gives them a chance to unleash some of their pent up frustrations on the source for once, surely that doesn't discourage a one of them. Quite the contrary.
Something of a free-for-all ensues. (083b LJ / DW)
The spectacle of a purple-winged, green-haired, black-nailed Vince flapping away (with both ears and wings) that greets the House Wednesday morning is a sight no one who sees it is soon likely to forget... And to make sure they don't, Harper (doubtless trying to be helpful once again, or more realistically: struggling to help fill the Hutchinson family's exceedingly empty war chest) takes a number of snaps of Vince he plans to sell to his Housemates. (091b LJ / DW) Not so unpredictably, Vince takes issue with this scheme and means to have it out with the younger entrepreneur. Harper expects that to go about as well as the beatdown he took for last year's infamous 'Terrycloth Flobberworm' pictures he managed to get of Vince. (065 LJ / DW) Whatever else, Harper will freely admit: the older boy has a way with the camera matched by no one in House. (Well, except maybe Daph.) In the hope of lessening the... impact of the encounter, Harper has been practising a weak Protego (102a LJ / DW), and Tracey slipped him some Pain-Relief to be on the safe side. (111 LJ / DW)
Wednesday morning. Severus orders Slinky to administer Insalacious Saltpetre to Draco, Blaise and Vincent, because they are beyond stupid, and he's a Potions Master, for fuck's sake. (097a LJ / DW) Almost as eager to do his duty as he is to test assorted wards, Slinky sets about distributing the Saltpetre in their meals. (098b LJ / DW)
At dinner Wednesday, the Snakes come to realise that Vince may be supplying Hufflepuff Zacharias Smith with potions, and through him the whole school and not just their House as they'd previously believed. Working together they devise a series of tests to prove their hypothesis, and come up with a scheme to begin providing for themselves should that be the case, also by means of a group effort: brewing what they can and buying what they must. After some convincing, Harper is recruited to become one of their potential chief brewers. (105 LJ / DW)
Wednesday evening. Taking inventory of his potions, Vince discovers that there's a Lust Potion he can't account for, simply vanished from his well warded trunk. He begins to suspect possible reasons for the boys' culpability in the Head's bonding, and the nature of just which memories they might be missing from Friday night. (110 LJ / DW)
Vince has been looking for Harper, who rather cleverly seeks refuge in the feline habitat. Millie discovers Harper there and immediately goes to tell Vince (110 LJ / DW), a fact which goes over ever so well with the other girls in her House. There's a minor eruption as tempers flare, Ella (atypically) has a (very) few choice words for the rat, Millie (typically) takes offence and makes a dive for her (unfortunately: very typically; her mother would be so ashamed), wands are drawn, positions taken, Pansy is forced to step in, and a girls' meeting is summarily called for an impromptu intervention. A few girls remain behind to see if they can be of any use to Harper after the fact, but Pansy makes it perfectly clear: no one is to interfere. That doesn't sit well with all of them. (111 LJ / DW) Sheldon decides it isn't such a bad idea to get the younger children clear and with the exception of Hunter (who understandably wishes to keep an eye on his brother) and Wilfred (who may want to help Hunter or possibly just spectate) takes the first through fourth year boys to their dorms. The remaining fifth and sixth year boys stay behind in the common room to watch. (111 LJ / DW)
Working from a mutual desire not to effectively forfeit the upcoming Quidditch match to the Moggies, Harper agrees to help Draco and the other seventh years, a little, towards that end. (104 LJ / DW) Unprompted, but both from similar motivations and as a result of that promised cooperation, Draco orders Vince to go easier on Harper, much to the Beater's displeasure. (111 LJ / DW)
Last year. That 'Terrycloth Flobberworm' Incident... Having generously given it a shot once to unsatisfactory results, Ella - most reasonably - had refused to compound the error and go on a second date with Vince. Virtually no one could blame her. The notable exception naturally was the Beater, far from the intellectually most gifted of his House, who somehow thought the most appropriate response to her polite rejection would be to send her a Poste Serpente in reply. Hmm. (Coincidentally, he's far from being the House's charmer either.) Given the little known interactive component to the Serpentes that permits listeners to act as a jury, things went very wrong for him as a consequence, ending with him being bitten by the Serpent instead and writhing on the floor of the showers wrapped in terry, all to the accompaniment of the flash of Harper's camera's bulb. (We learn of it in 065 LJ / DW)
The last of Vince's knocks against the glass window of the cat habitat echoes through an unnaturally silent common room. Far too many heads are turned his way, all subtlety seems to have swum out the windows and into the Lake. Vince notices, most would, but if anything the reaction pleases him. It's good to know he still has most of them cowed.
After this morning, he wasn't so sure.
Sensing the tension in his human, Crankshaft nuzzles Harper in a comforting way. It leaves a few fine hairs stuck to the boy's face, which is when he realises he must be sweating.
Nerves.
No doubt about it. He doesn't even bother to brush the hairs away, they probably won't be there long. He sighs, gives Crank and his sister Shawshank last affectionate ear scratches, swallows the first phial of Pain Relief for good measure, grabs his things, which he Reducios and pockets, and then rises, turning to face the window and door.
The knock was unmistakable, not that he's had so many occasions to hear it, but no one else tromps through their House quite like Vince does. It's like living with an ill tempered Erumpet, and very nearly as precarious. Harper can't wait until next year when Vince will be gone. That should make such a terrific difference in the Prefect's quality of life...
It would be so nice to be able to earn money brewing instead of scraping together a handful of Knuts with stupid things like risking a beating from Vince in order to sell pictures or volunteering to have his nose broken to try to get Pain Relief from Pomfrey. Fine, that last had actually brought in a decent amount of Galleons, but school supplies were expensive, and it was two of them now he was trying to take care of...
Well, he might be able to work towards the potions goal, at least a little, if things go as they'd discussed with the rest of his Housemates at dinner. It could establish him for next year. But it's far from supplying all of Hogwarts like Vince apparently might.
Next year.
He just has to hang in there that long.
The thought provides a bit of comfort in the face of what Vince no doubt has in store for him. And if the potions thing works out, he'll profit, and undercut Vince's sales in the process. Yes, he'll happily take what comfort that offers...
Vince gestures for him to come over, and then doesn't even wait to see if he will. It's a demonstration of power, Harper recognises it, but he also follows him for exactly those reasons. It's simple really. They're in agreement as to the facts, Vince has a beef, a legitimate one, even. If Harper just accepts whatever he means to dish out, their ledgers will be balanced.
His fingers twitch reflexively as he readies himself to cast his weak Protego.
Ella tenses as she watches Harper mount and cross the dais and follow Vince into the Training Room. She hadn't realised quite how tense she was, or how visible that might be, until she feels Daph's hand on her arm. Or maybe the seventh year simply intuits her apprehension. That would be just like her.
The Prefect turns to her, and the older witch gives her a small smile that endeavours to be hopeful but doesn't quite reach her eyes; nevertheless, and possibly precisely for that reason, it makes Ella feel better. She's not alone worrying about Harper.
That's a silly thought, really, because Hunter is seated right next to her, and if anyone is worried, it's probably him. She faces him now, felling almost remiss not to have thought of it sooner, and is pleased to see Wilfred's got his hand on Hunter's arm, too. In contrast to Daphne's, Wilfred's grip seems to be fierce, more to physically restrain his friend than the gentle reassurance the girl's provides, but it's probably what's called for. In both cases, really. There's something to be said for restraining Hunter and keeping him from doing anything too foolhardy. Realistically, it was only likely to make the situation worse.
Ella takes a page from Daph's tome and places her hand on Hunter's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze to remind him she's there for him. For both of the Hutchinson boys. His nervous glance in return lets her know he appreciates that.
More than one of the onlookers has to fight with themselves to keep from calling out, yelling for Harper to stop, but they all succeed in holding their tongues. Ultimately they know Pansy was right. Harper didn't have to take the pictures, he chose to knowing the risks. And any one of them could have intervened then, but they hadn't for a variety of reasons of their own, ranging from wanting to preserve the memory of Vince on that couch to a desire to see the boy further humiliated to understanding just how badly the Hutchinsons need the Galleons. Anything they could do now won't help, it would only exacerbate the inevitable confrontation.
The time for action is past.
And so as a group, they rather helplessly watch Harper close the door to the workout facilities behind him. It dampens all sound, completely, but they have a clear view through the windows to the lounge. That's not exactly a consolation.
Vince leans causally against one of the exercise contraptions, there are no portraits here to complain about posture, arranges a decidedly mean smirk on his face and then drawls, "Can we just skip the games, or are you going to pretend you don't know what this is about?"
Harper weighs his options and leans into the turn. "No, I know what you want." He reaches into his pocket and amid the miniaturised school texts and his assignments finds the pictures in question. He pulls them forth and Engorgios them before holding them out to the boy. "Here. It's all of them." It's not a coincidence that he leaves his wand arm free at his side. He trusts Vince about as far as he can throw him, which isn't far at all with the weight on the boy.
"Is it now?" Vince leers and cracks his knuckles demonstratively. He doesn't reach for them, still casually lounging as if he hadn't a care in the world, and leaving the sixth year standing there with his left arm outstretched. Harper reminds himself that it's just another power play, and resolves not to let the seventh year see him sweat. That's pure stubbornness and possibly counterproductive, but as Vince isn't much given to sympathy, it might still be the better call. In light of his sadistic streak, it's every bit as likely that a show of weakness would prompt him to keep it going longer. Vince is far from socialised that way. And if he really didn't have anything to be concerned about, he wouldn't be so intent on chasing down these pictures, a thought Harper finds consoling. It isn't as though everyone hadn't seen Vince in that position only this morning. No, his... predicament hadn't escaped anyone's notice, not even the Head's.
Instead of letting his arm drop, Harper obstinately raises it a bit higher, making a mental note to apply some Muscle Mending Salve later and to remember to reduce his workout accordingly tomorrow, although presumably the charley horse will do the Remembrall's job for him...
"I didn't make any copies," the Prefect finally volunteers when Vince doesn't say anything more.
"Didn't you?" Vince snits. "How unfortunate. For you." If he isn't allowed to turn the boy into a smear on the Training Room floor, damn and blast Draco and his interference, then he can at least draw this out for all it's worth. That thought has him cracking his knuckles again. Harper fervently hopes there's some truth to his Great Aunt Harriet's claims that will cause problems with age, happily picturing it. He could always ask his Aunt Hildegard for a definitive answer, but she's more likely to debunk it...
Vince thinks for a moment, and Harper stands there wishing the boy could do so a little faster. "Did you have any made?" The seventh year finally asks.
"No, I didn't."
"Really? That really was stupid then." The knuckles crack once more. "Would you care to swear to it?"
Harper takes advantage of the opening to lower the arm holding the pictures. He's beginning to feel foolish standing there with his arm out this whole time, and it's beginning to tire. He draws his wand and complies. "On my Oath, I did not have any copies made." The expected golden glow comes and Vince nods. It says everything necessary about their dynamic that the sight of Harper stood before him with a wand in hand leaves Vince thoroughly unfussed. He has nothing to worry about here.
"You didn't swear you hadn't made any, though," Vince complains. Harper remedies that immediately. "Or that that's all of the ones you took." Another Oath follows that. Vince's lips purse as he considers, but he can't find any more loopholes. "Alright, I'm satisfied," he grunts and Harper returns his wand to its sheath.
"You could have spared yourself all of this if you just hadn't taken them in the first place," Vince tells him with a mock sad shake of his head. "What was the point?" Harper bites his tongue treating the question as purely rhetorical. When no answer is forthcoming, Vince retroactively decides it was. He finally looks at the pictures still in Harper's hand and then adds, "They aren't even any good. What's wrong with them? They aren't moving."
"No, as you can see, they didn't turn out." Harder readily agrees, and this is where Vince's inability to think and general ignorance pays off for him. Wild Thestrals couldn't get Harper to explain it's strictly a question of the developing process. And there's no way he's revealing they haven't been developed that way because it makes for a poorer Geminio. That'd be bonkers.
"So you're not just stupid, you're a rubbish photographer, too."
"Well I had hoped they'd be better..." Harper allows modestly.
"Talentless hack is what you are, both here and on the pitch."
That doesn't faze Harper in the least, although he wisely chooses to look a bit hurt. He's comfortable with himself, his accomplishments. He's not a Prefect for nothing (although he's reasonably sure it helps that the differentiation in his year is clearer than in Tracey's and Pansy's cases, say). Harper outperforms Vince in every single benchmark, except how much he can press on the machine behind the seventh year. It's probably not a coincidence the Beater chose to prop himself up against that one.
Although come to think of it, perhaps physical strength is the benchmark that matters most right now...
When he can't get a rise out of the younger boy, Vince finally gives up. "Alright, let's get this over with. Put the pictures down," he indicates the bench beside him, "and come over here."
Harper refuses to swallow, too obvious, but his throat's suddenly gone dry. The Pain Relief has definitely taken effect by now and he casts his silent Protego wandlessly and hopes it does the trick. He wishes he'd had the idea for that a week ago and had more time to practise, but then a week ago, he hadn't known any of this was likely to happen...
There are options, he could choose to fight Vince, ignoring for the moment what the seventh year may or may not have learnt from certain parties outside of school... He shouldn't care to imagine that. But he also isn't sure Vince wouldn't try to get back at him by taking it out on Hunter or Ella. As long as Harper takes his hits like a man, or his Hexes like a wizard, Vince seems content to keep this between themselves. All Harper needs to do is get through this year, and then the boy will be gone. He just hopes he never reaches any kind of position of power...
Draco's words still echoing in his thoughts, Vince has accepted he won't be able to pulverise the Chaser, but he isn't happy about it. Still, given he has a suspicion he may be to blame for the seventh year's fall from grace - there's that missing Lust Potion he can't explain - to say nothing about the Head's situation, Merlin, he may just want to keep Draco sweet. One, well, maybe two punches, that's probably about it.
But he means to make them count.
Harper puts the pictures down as... requested and goes to stand before the far bulkier Beater. He closes his eyes and waits for it.
With the Training Room's door closed and all present clearly observing the scene before them, there's no real reason to keep silent now and a number of people cry out as they watch the first of the blows land. Hunter, Ella and Daphne are unsurprisingly loudest of all. Vince hits Harper squarely in the belly and the boy doubles over. No one watching remains unaffected seeing the speed with which the Prefect jackknifes, the severity of his reaction.
Ella wraps an arm around Hunter, pulling him in for a half hug and whispering, "He'll be fine," into his close cropped hair.
"He shouldn't have taken the pictures," Hunter sniffles back, trying to keep from crying. "I shouldn't have brought him the camera..."
Ella gives the side of his head a peck. "We'll take care of him. He'll be fine," she repeats like a mantra, as if the act of will could make it so. But then magic is all about intent, so she may not be wrong on that score.
There's another sniff, from her other side this time, and she spots Daphne trying to maintain a stiff upper lip and failing miserably. Ella can't help thinking the girl's got it pretty bad where Harper is concerned. Those two are idiots and watching them not act on the obvious attraction sometimes tries Ella's patience. Still, it's nice to know people care about her friend. Especially when he insists on doing such foolhardy things. Or perhaps despite that. A sensible person would run a mile.
It makes her like the seventh year even more.
Tracey reaches out for Daphne, it's meant to be a consoling touch is all, but soon has her arm around a sniffling witch as Daph snuggles in taking any comfort she can get. She's so clearly thankful for the gesture, Tracey finds she doesn't even mind. She's not much of a hugger, but exceptions can be made from time to time...
When the second punch lands and one of the girls squeals, Aaron debates whether he shouldn't do something, Harper's not just his roommate, they're teammates after all... But then so is Vince, and really, Aaron isn't too sure what he should do... It's a pity Sheldon is off sorting the younger students as he'd know what's best. And he's closer to Harper, isn't he? Distant cousins, or some such, from the Shacklebolt side. Aaron rises a little in his seat, still wondering if he's overcompensating but even less willing to appear a coward. He looks questioningly to Torsten who just shakes his head. Lowly Tor whispers, "Pansy had the right of it. Wait."
Fortunately they needn't wait long as a satisfied Vince then takes the pictures in hand and destroys them with a rather unnecessarily flashy Incendio, the deliberate smirk in their direction making the reasons for the show clear. Leaving Harper on the ground with the ashes behind him, Vince emerges from the room soon after, rubbing the hurt from his knuckles with some satisfaction.
Again various people restrain various others, waiting for Vince to get clear. The worst has passed, there's no point in risking an escalation now of all times, and only once the seventh year has disappeared from sight in the direction of his room does a little group make a start for the prostrate sixth year Prefect.
It's something of a race.
Harper's Protego worked like a charm, ha, the first time at any rate... He assesses his situation as he lies on the floor. Or tries to. Really there shouldn't have been any doubt about the Protego. A wandless Nox - which he's pleased he can still manage - sorts the ashes glimmering around him, before he flops back barely conscious. Wouldn't that be lovely, having to explain any potential burn damage to their already seriously inconvenienced Head.
Vince is an utter trog.
Harper probably should have waited before trying magic again.
Or maybe used his wand.
That would have required moving, so: no, out of the question.
He probably needs chocolate. That's what they do, isn't it, when you're all flopped about, give you chocolate...
And if he doesn't need it, he'd like it.
A Chocolate Frog, perhaps... That'd be nice. It's been ages since he's had one of those... With his luck he'd get Dumblebore.
Of necessity, the Protego had been cast so close to Harper's body as to make its presence unknown. That made sense and realistically (certainly judging by Vince's grunt and the protracted knuckle rubbing), if anything it had been too strong. Hitting Harper had been a bit like hitting a wall, and he'll later brag of his rock hard abs for all the good it does him. (But honestly, that grunt of Vince's had provided some satisfaction.) The problem, of course, is that Protegos don't completely absorb momentum, why would they, and that had transferred all too effectively to Harper; subsequently the cry he'd intended to fake had been all too real. Bloody, buggering, fucking real. And while the Pain Relief had done it's job, quickly at that, the second time he hadn't quite managed to hold the Protego in place, and it had bloody well hurt.
But not as much as expected.
Which he can't explain in the least.
He decides Vince had pulled the punch, at least a little, in the face of the injury to his hand from the first one and the clearly apparent damage he'd already inflicted on the sixth year.
There's some truth to it, Vince had been reluctant for a repeat of the first blow, and sure, it hadn't been as utterly devastating because Draco's words of restraint had definitely had an effect, but that doesn't take into account that both Vince's lunch and dinner in the Infirmary had been dosed with Insalacious Saltpetre care of Slinky, their House's chief elf, and it's beginning to show some effect.
But then the boys have no way of knowing about that.
Harper may still be a little out of it, and his thoughts drift, a complete muddle as he lies there wringing for breath. It's weird, it's always been weird, the way the pain fades when he has the Potion, his body just needs to catch up. Except that's not entirely true, it hadn't 'always' been that way. Pain potions, just like almost all other things, cost money, even if you brew them yourself, and then they cost time as well. And his father hadn't really been of a mind to do that, brewing, certainly not the last several years.
Harper would have done it himself, he so often does, the unreasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery be hanged. He waits until his father's... asleep and then borrows his wand, but you need the skills, the knowledge to do so, and even then, without the ingredients, well, he could do sweet Fanny Adams is all.
'It' had gotten worse, so much worse since Harper's third year. He wonders if it was the fact Hunter - who he thinks he can now hear calling him, oddly enough - was also away at school and his father had had no one to keep an eye on him, or whom he ostensibly needed to 'care for' to give him reason to stay... abstemious. Or maybe it was the rumours of You-Know-Who's return, the reemergence of the Death Eaters. His father had been odd ever since the World Cup, really. And then at the end of the year when word got out they'd spent all year with Crouch Jr. as an instructor instead of Moody... His father had gone on a bender and hadn't resurfaced until Ella's mum, Elizabeth had gone off looking for him and fetched him home. It had taken her a while to find him, too. And almost as long to get him sober. Considering the potions she could now afford and the skill of the witch, that's saying something.
There've been many whispers how lucky his father was he hadn't been required to prosecute Crouch's case. Imagine the shame if he'd lost? It hadn't seemed improbable given the state of the man. Elizabeth had made it clear there could be no doubt about Crouch's guilt, it was certain, an escaped Death Eater, long presumed dead no less, had taught at the school...
He'd been surprisingly nice really, Crouch had. Both Harper and Hunter had learnt a lot from the man. He'd practically taken Hunter under his wing. Hunter still sometimes has problems with enunciation, and his swish probably leaves a bit to be desired now and again, but his intent has been solid ever since Moody, Crouch took him aside and taught him how it's done. He'd been a little Firstie at the time, and so proud of somehow meriting the special attention.
And Harper had frankly liked the man.
What does that say about his taste?
He's spared worrying too much if that might mean he leans towards... them - he doesn't, does he? he doesn't think so... - when it crosses his mind that he doesn't like Vince in the least. And Draco is a personified 'proceed with caution' sign... Harper recognises that. That's promising. And in his defence, he probably likes Ella best, who is certainly well clear... (And now he thinks he can hear her, too...) Oh, and Daphne possibly most of all, he can't forget Daphne... That definitely speaks for his taste. (Is that her... crying?)
And then there's an odd zap and a tingling sensation, warmth radiating out from his stomach or thereabouts, and suddenly things come into focus.
"Harper, are you alright?" Ella asks, wand in hand, her General Purpose Healing Charm freshly applied to his abdomen.
"I wanna Chocolate Frog," he replies, seemingly apropos of nothing. The others look at one another, clearly confused before Hunter begins to giggle, the tension getting to him. Daphne isn't far behind and the two set each other off even more. Daph looks especially odd, wiping the remaining tear tracks from her face as she sort of hiccoughs her way through another fit of giggles. Perhaps it's the angle. Most people look a bit odd from the ground. Certainly when they're also upside down.
Tracey performs a Tergeo, and Daph shoots her a thankful, if still somewhat watery, smile.
"Sure thing, mate," Aaron assures him with a bemused shake of his head. "I've got one back in the room."
"Are you alright?" Ella repeats. She's kneeling beside him and now he looks around a bit he can see Hunter on his other side, and someone is holding his head and massaging his temples and as he makes a bit of sense of everyone's positions he realises Daph's pillowing his head in her lap which seems awfully decent of her. His distraction on considering that decency, or possibly just the softness of that lap, diverts him long enough that he fails to answer. "Harper?" Ella tries again.
"Is he okay?" Daphne asks her now, suddenly more serious. Realising the question was rather foolish, she amends it, "Did the Charm take?"
"Well it assumes you know what you're doing, and I don't," Ella explains and wishes she'd gotten that Diagnostic Charm from Madam Snape. Rats. "I guessed what might need help and applied it, basically blind. If I'm wrong then it doesn't do any harm, but it won't have helped much either."
"How hard can it be to point at his gut and say 'make it better'?" Aaron complains, not quietly enough.
Tor snorts, "That's not how healing works..."
To which Aaron immediately rejoins, "That's how Pain Relieving Potion works," flustering Torsten completely because he's right. For fuck's sake. This is why Tor won't be going into the family business in anything other than a managerial capacity.
But Ella backs him up, "That's not how the Charm works anyway." Tor appreciates that.
Harper turns his head in Daph's lap to look at his brother, "Remind me to try an Arresto Momentum next time." His hair is too short to comb through, really, but her fingers have begun massaging his scalp, and he may just stay here forever, enjoying the feel of her nails on his skin.
Hunter nods, not sure quite why the Spell might help but taking his brother's word for it. The others just look concerned.
"Mate, you didn't fall. You got Vinced," Aaron tries to explain, succinctly, albeit not quite helpfully.
"Do you suppose he hit his head on the way down?" Tor asks the others, beginning to wonder if they'll have to send him to Pomfrey.
"Do you have anything for that if he had?" Tracey returns. The Touchstones are usually extremely well stocked, a benefit of being heirs to a potions empire if ever there were one. (And they can hardly go to Vince for a draught...) Torsten's weighing whether they'll have to fetch Tomasina for that when Harper replies.
"I'm fine," he tells them, slowly beginning to sound more like himself, but still doesn't move.
"Then why are you still lying there?" Aaron tries to reason with him, drawing a snort of amusement from Tor who has gathered the fact that Harper's presently using Daphne as a pillow probably isn't conducive to him rising sooner as opposed to later.
Harper pinks slightly, once again thankful for his dark complexion that renders that more difficult to spot, and someone, possibly Wilfred, laughs. Ella decides to give Harper a hand before things get too embarrassing and begins to lever him up. "Come on, we need to be out of here before the room closes." And Merlin, she's right.
The others realise their predicament, the room will eject them, quite forcefully, with little regard for their reasons for still being there when closing time rolls around. Without further discussion, Aaron and Torsten both grab their roommate under his arms, Tracey helps Daphne up (her left leg seems to have fallen asleep), Hunter gets the door and the group relocates to the dais outside.
"Good catch," Tor praises Ella.
She smiles, "All part of being a Prefect, being mindful of that sort of thing."
"Tell that to our other Prefect," Aaron laughs with a nod towards Harper, still wobbly on his feet, but it's easier to laugh now that he seems more and more himself. Harper just gives him a good-natured grin.
"Were the pictures worth it?" Tor asks.
Ella fishes about in her pocket, pulls forth a small stack she then Engorgios and says, "Judge for yourselves."
Harper gives her a scolding look, he'd have rathered no one knew she was involved, but Ella shakes her head. At the latest, when he gets their Oaths to keep the photos' existence from Vince - and he will, she knows it - she'll be covered by extension as she sees it. Harper knows there are always ways around that and wishes she'd be more conservative, but after the sorts of things he gets up to, he's in no position to lecture. She hands the photographs to him and he shows them to the others.
"Those wings," Daph half sighs as she traces them with a finger, sounding incredibly wistful as she does.
"Yeah, I don't think Vince enjoyed them anywhere near as much," Harper grins a bit wolfishly back.
"They aren't moving..." Wilfred starts to object when they're interrupted by the great 'bang' of a door slamming open and an accompanying shriek.
"My Sousaphone!" Anneliese Burke comes somersaulting involuntarily out of the music room in a series of crashes and thuds, her Searing Sousaphone follows not soon after.
Tracey is so good as to cast a spell to catch it, and Aaron takes advantage of the opening to tell Harper, "That's what Arresto Momentum is for." It isn't often he gets the one up on Harper, especially not when it's about stuff they're supposed to learn. Bartholomew shoots up from his seat at one of the tables and darts over to them, thankfully collecting the instrument from where Tracey's Charm holds it while his sister catches her breath on the floor.
"Because Sousaphones so often go flying about," Tracey ribs Aaron in return. He's too entitled for her tastes, and if she had to choose, at least in this regard, she'd sympathise with Harper any day.
"Wasn't what I meant..." Aaron mutters in reply as Tracey and Daphne go to help the fourth year to her feet.
Bart's and Daphne's enquiries as to her welfare coincide with Lisa's "Is my Sousaphone okay?" priorities being as they are.
"How hard is it to cast a Tempus?" Wilfred chides his classmate.
"I got carried away," she explains. "I had to make up for not getting to practise this morning." There are some snickers as they recall Vince on the couch being the reason for that deviation from her usual routine. So worth it.
"What's a few notes more or less?" Wilfred asks, and Lisa, still dusting herself off (although it's primarily a psychological response given how clean the house elves keep their rooms), launches into an enthusiastic attempt at explanation - pearls before swine - but Tracey interrupts.
"We really should join the others. Pansy called a meeting," she explains to the fourth year who'd obviously missed the announcement, and Lisa stops her fruitless campaign to make Wilfred appreciate the finer nuances of her classic Sousaphone piece. Bart hands Lisa her Searing Sousaphone which she clutches to her almost as though it were a living creature. The others are used to it and see no need to comment on her behaviour. Careful examination reveals no signs of damage, Tracey's Arresto Momentum had nicely done the trick, and it's got some of the best Imperviuses Galleons can buy. If Lisa were willing to store her Sousaphone in the room as most others do with their instruments - a Possession Line hinders any conceivable attempt at theft after all, and it wouldn't be terribly likely even without it - then it wouldn't have been subjected to the rough ejection, but she's clearly too attached to even consider it.
Ella looks a little hesitant, reluctant to leave Harper just yet, and Tracey, trying to sway her, adds, "It was my suggestion."
"Technically it was Alberta's," Ella corrects, a sight more pedantically than usual for her reluctance.
Tracey understands the reasons clearly enough that she doesn't even get impatient. "I was one of the ones lobbying for it, was I not?" She reminds her gently. "We need to speak with Millie and this is a conversation I don't wish to miss." Pansy is likely to go too easy on her and Alberta hasn't remotely the same priorities as either she or Daphne. This isn't something she wants to leave in their hands.
Daph twitches a little, too, torn between a desire to stay, to see to Harper, and yet eager to lobby for Theo once more. She nibbles her lip indecisively.
Tracey looks significantly at Harper and prods again, "Because I think we really do need to have a word with her." That puts things well and truly into perspective, Millie being the mad cow who'd told Vince about Harper after all, and suddenly Ella's on board.
"You're sure you're alright?" She asks her friend once more.
Harper nods, "Right as rain," waving her in the direction of the girls' wing.
"Objection!" She replies, although not quite with the usual degree of enthusiasm.
"It presupposes a well being not presently in evidence?" He answers a bit tentatively, but the familiarity sets her at ease. She smiles at him affectionately as she cuffs him playfully.
"He's got me to look after him," Hunter chimes in reassuringly.
The girls are kind enough not to challenge the utility of that, but Wilfred can't quite stifle his snicker, although it's unclear if he tried overmuch. He's about as mannered as he is subtle.
"We'll see to him, and he has my potions at his disposal. On me," Tor adds, atypically generous which gets him a pair of looks from Ella and Tracey, appreciative and appraising, respectively. One of them probably has his number.
"Right, thank you. That's very kind of you, Tor. I guess we'll see you tomorrow then," Ella replies and the small group says their goodnights.
"Think they'll ever make a go of it?" Wilhelmina quietly asks Phineas Nigellus in their portrait overlooking the room as she captures his knight.
"Which two?" He answers and just like that, the portrait of Slytherin faculty is off, chattering amongst themselves about the students, young love and all their long years of observing the same with the probabilities for success of any such amorous endeavours calculated on the fly.
In the final analysis, Phineas Nigellus' estimation of the situation is deemed more likely, which proves of some consolation as Wilhelmina takes his queen.
Yet again.
"Do you suppose you could teach me that Healing Charm?" Daphne asks Ella as they head for the seventh year girls' room.
"I'd be happy to. It's not that difficult, but it takes a bit of practice to target it properly."
"Oh? Why's that?"
"Think of it as like the Finite Incantatem, where it isn't going to work unless you have some idea of what you're undoing."
"And are using the appropriate Finite to begin with," Tracey points out.
"That's half the battle, naturally, but assuming you've applied the right general purpose charm, you still need to understand what you're trying to do with it..." Ella continues, and they're still discussing the vagaries of directing such charms when they walk in on the girls' meeting, now well under way.
The door has only just closed behind them when Alberta sets in on Millie. "I know we shouldn't expect much from you, but that was truly appalling. Have you taken complete leave of your senses or do you genuinely have no sense to speak of?"
The other girls in their year so clearly outperform them that Alberta is happy for the chance to put Millie more firmly in her place; it's no coincidence that she targets the Reserve Beater's intelligence first and foremost.
As Alberta hadn't seemed especially concerned by Millie's actions before, the suddenness of the attack and its vehemence takes her all the more by surprise; perfectly reasonable as it's easily half a bit of theatre. She blanches, exceptionally sensitive to such claims; her inferiority complex is probably only exceeded by the chip on her shoulder. Of course that latter has her fingers itching for her wand.
"Well if my behaviour still comes as such a surprise to you after all this time, then maybe you're no brighter than I am." On consideration, Millie isn't sure she hasn't just shot the Quaffle through her own goal. Damn, er... Actually her mother can just go to hell and take Alberta along with her.
She'll probably have to apologise for that later.
The thought only makes her madder.
The result is almost inevitable, but Pansy goes between them. "Both of you, stop this immediately. Alberta, lay off her."
Alberta happens to think that was inevitable as well. As she sees it, Pansy always favours Millie, and it isn't remotely fair.
Alberta is probably missing that friendship has nothing to do with fairness. It's a great deal more to do with the sympathies between the people involved, and by and large, Alberta is rarely particularly sympathetic. She doesn't really see the point to it, and she certainly hasn't the patience. The result was something of a foregone conclusion.
Her annoyance at Pansy's reaction is only heightened by the fact almost all of the girls were gathered there to witness it. Bloody brilliant.
This time is different from their normal arguments, however. Things are more complicated than usual. In addition to the fact the Runcorns' standing seems to be on the rise, something Pansy is only too aware of (and that's a disadvantage inherent in the fence sitting the Parkinsons prefer - it mitigates the losses, but also the potential gains), this time is more complicated because, for once, Pansy is inclined to agree with Alberta.
Will wonders never cease.
But the players have their roles and everyone comes to expect certain responses from them. As a result, Alberta is stunned and Millie rather hurt when Pansy takes her friend aside and begins to start in on all the things they'd discussed only the evening before. Surely Millie must understand what she'd done wrong?
Millie frankly understands bugger all at the moment, staring at Pansy as though this were a betrayal.
Pansy tries to take some of the sting out of it (with little success) and addresses the group as a whole, attempting to explain why this behaviour isn't acceptable in light of the decisions they'd reached last night. For Millie, the public censure from her friend is worse than any attack from Alberta, and she has to fight not to cry. (And can't she just hear what her mother would say if she did?)
Alberta is frankly enjoying the sight, although she has to wonder what Pansy thinks she's going to achieve by covering the same ground they had yesterday. The facts haven't changed; the arguments remain the same. The boys were responsible for the Head's bonding, it put him seriously at risk (never mind the fact he was now bonded to Granger of all witches, and a Mudblood at that), and at the least, some ostracism was called for. Millie quite obviously disagreed with their decision, she patently wasn't convinced and she'd acted on it. Repeating their reasons for shunning the boys wasn't likely to be any more successful than the previous attempt, really... Which isn't to say Alberta minds the show. Of course not. She sits down on her bed, leans back and prepares to watch the Prefect scold the entire group as if they'd all shared in Millie's poor judgment.
Róisín and Ava take advantage of the fact Pansy has drawn everyone's attention to sit down next to Alberta. Ava puts up an Avery family Privacy Charm - as a fifth year, she's too young to have learnt the House Charm, but from such an old pureblood family, she's not without resources - and Alberta is soon unpleasantly surprised to find herself on the receiving end of a rebuke of her own, the only thing that makes her situation preferable to Millie's being that privacy. Nimue's knickers.
"And what were you thinking when you left us hanging there against Ella and her lot? Or were you just too cowardly to take a stand?" Ava accuses her.
That really irks Alberta, because if there's one thing her family does well, probably better than any of the other girls' families in fact, it's taking a stand. Ava and Róisín have quite some nerve getting in her face like this.
"I was thinking it wasn't a remotely sensible fight to fight." And that watching might provide a bit of sport, but it seems improvident to say so.
"So a coward then," Róisín hisses, more for effect than any need given Ava's Charm.
Alberta laughs, although she's far from amused. There hadn't been much of a show earlier, and she's missing the one now in favour of being reprimanded. That isn't helping her temper. The younger girls haven't much sense of their own, as far as she's concerned. Naturally, she doesn't improve matters in the least by telling them that. Eventually she recognises that attacking them when they're largely in agreement (politically, if not in this specific instance) isn't productive, and she switches the focus to Millie, a safer bet as she isn't part of the conversation and can't defend herself.
"Millie needs to learn to pick and choose her battles. For a Bulstrode, she understands piteously little about subtlety." Alberta shakes her head ruefully and one could almost believe she means it. If one didn't know her that is. "But then that was probably to be expected given her parents."
"What's wrong with her father?" Róisín asks, genuinely confused. As she sees it, the Bulstrodes as a family are above reproach, one of the Sacred Twenty-eight, just like the Rosiers and Averys. Not even the Runcorns can boast of that, which makes it all the odder Alberta should broach the topic, and with the two of them, no less. Fine, Millie was a half-blood, but her father wasn't.
"Well he'd been willing to marry the creature, now hadn't he?" Alberta answers with a disdainful glance shot in Millie's direction.
Everyone has heard the rumours, obviously, that was nothing new. Millie's mother is supposed to be part Veela. Looking at Madam Bulstrode, it's easy to see how such rumours came into being, but living side by side with Millie for all this time, it's impossible to believe the girl has even a drop of Veela blood in her. Ava and Róisín follow Alberta's gaze and look at Millie.
No, it just can't be.
She may not be a pureblood, but there is no conceivable way she's part creature. Or at least, if she were part creature, as a few of the Ravenclaws had suggested, it would be part Troll, and no one who has ever met Madam Bulstrode would believe such a thing. She was a half-blood, pure and simple. They both were. That was all there was to it. It was a shame, naturally, to have diluted one of the ancient bloodlines, but it wasn't as though there weren't plenty of pureblood Bulstrode cousins, and marrying a half-blood was far from a crime.
Yet.
Ignoring the clearly preposterous claim, the girls return to their original objection: Alberta hadn't had their backs when the other girls drew their wands on them.
"We need to stand together. An attack on any one of us is an attack on all of us," Ava reasons.
"There are few enough of us as is," Róisín agrees.
"And there will be fewer yet if we allow the least among us to set the tone." The causal cruelty with which Alberta says it throws them for a moment, giving them pause. She's a year older than Róisín and has two on Ava, her family is active in politics; she has experience the others do not and she puts it to use. "We had agreed on a course of action, Millie went rogue, someone called her on it, fairly reasonably, in fact... Or do you think Pansy's in the wrong here, too?" The other girls remain silent. "So Ella wasn't mistaken then either. And Millie overreacted."
"'Daft cow' was rather... inflammatory," Ava objects.
"But Ella was essentially correct. It was more a question of... how she presented her argument?" That garners her a pair of uncertain looks. Alberta presses her advantage, "And if Millie's position wasn't legitimate, certainly it wasn't tenable, we shouldn't be following her lead. She should be following ours." Alberta feels rather magnanimous, including the other two in that, especially considering half the point of her argument was that they were in the wrong as well.
"Next time," she admonishes rather superciliously, "think before drawing your wands." She'd gladly end the Privacy Charm to demonstrate the discussion is closed, but she's frankly unsure how to go about it, a clear disadvantage of those damn family charms. Instead she turns pointedly to face Pansy, which succeeds in drawing the Prefect's attention.
"And you two!" Pansy wheels to address Róisín and Ava, much to their surprise. "I expect you to show the good sense to not exacerbate our problems. We don't need anyone else making matters worse..." When she then goes on to berate them for supporting Millie earlier, Alberta thinks all her Christmases may have just come at once. She only barely manages not to laugh; containing her glee is an ask too far.
Ava is so nonplussed by the rebuke, she forgets to lift the Privacy Charm before trying to defend herself, to rather comical effect. It might have ended there, they'd just hashed precisely this topic through with Alberta, after all, and come to understand the issue with their actions, but Pansy delivers the coup de grâce. "Róisín, you of all people should understand how serious this bonding business is. You never should have backed Millie's apostasy..."
Róisín is unable to reply, in part because no one has yet clarified that it boils down to 'disloyalty' ('And why couldn't Pansy just say so?'), but even then, several agree that was an astonishingly low blow. Even Alberta hadn't gone there (although she now half wishes she had). But how is a person to respond to such a callous mention of their family's tragedy?
Ava has no qualms and leaps to champion her friend, fuelling a debate as to whether or not it hadn't been precisely the opposite, they'd stood by Millie after all...
"But not the Head," comes the ever sensible rebuttal.
The argument then essentially boils down to politics. As it's a topic that's frankly impossible to discuss in the open in this way, it's the most marvellously disjointed thing, and Alberta begins to enjoy herself even more, and she's not the only one. It's only improved by the fact neither side seems able to complete a sentence without censoring themselves, yielding something by way of the strangest protracted stutter ever.
They're still arguing heatedly, or trying to - it's rough going when so much has to remain unsaid - when Ella and the others arrive, which puts a decisive end to the dispute. It's one thing for Pansy to try to show them the error of their ways, it's quite another to do it in front of the girl who called Millie a 'daft cow'.
Vince finally exacts his revenge on Harper for the pictures he took this morning. The other Snakes respond. Pansy stages an intervention for Millie and tries to make sure her Snakelettes are with the programme.
Slytherins: Vincent Crabbe, Daphne Greengrass, Tracey Davis, Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode, Alberta Runcorn, Harper Hutchinson, Aaron Avery, Torsten Touchstone, Ella Wilkins, Róisín Rosier, Bartholomew Burke, Ava Avery, Hunter Hutchinson, Wilfred Wilkes, Anneliese Burke
Mentioned briefly: Severus, Hermione, Slytherins: Draco Malfoy, Sheldon Shafiq, Tomasina Touchstone, Portraits: Phineas Nigellus Black, Wilhelmina Wilkes, Others: Crankshaft, Shawshank, Slinky
Originally Published: 2019-09-23 on LJ / DW this chapter has been pre-dated
Chapter: 112 part 1 Characters:
Slytherins: Vincent 'Vince' Crabbe 7S (Beater, Inferi Princess), Daphne Greengrass 7S (Sparkly! Fwoopers!), Tracey Davis 7S (Swottier), Pansy Parkinson 7S (Prefect), Millicent 'Millie' Bulstrode (Reserve Beater, yes, that.), Alberta Runcorn 7S (Grumpy.), Harper Hutchinson 6S (Prefect, Chaser, flash Robe Model), Aaron Avery 6S (Reserve Chaser), Torsten 'Tor' Touchstone 6S (sleepyhead, heir to the Touchstone fortune), Ella Wilkins 6S (Prefect), Róisín Rosier 6S (her aunt Rosemary died in the last war before Róisín was born after bonding Willem Wilkes), Bartholomew 'Bart' Burke 5S (sallow), Ava Avery 5S, Hunter Hutchinson 4S (Imp, one third of the Trio of Terror), Wilfred Wilkes 4S (Messenger Boy), Anneliese 'Lisa' Burke 4S (Searing Sousaphone Soloist)
Mentioned briefly: Severus (HoS, Potions), Hermione 7G (Prefect, Supreme Swot), Slytherins: Draco 7S (Prefect, Team Captain, Seeker, Swot), Sheldon Shafiq 6S (Reserve Beater, and charm on legs), Tomasina Touchstone 5S (Prefect, Potions savvy heiress), Portraits: Headmaster Phineas Nigellus Black (past HoS), Wilhelmina Wilkes (past HoS, DADA Instructor), Others: Crankshaft (Harper's half-Kneazle), Shawshank (the Shafiqs' half-Kneazle), Slinky (the Slytherin House's chief house elf)
A/N: I'll eventually be shifting this chapter back into 112, where it fits time-wise. (Not sure why I thought cutting the Snakelets till later was the better option, but now it's offending my sensibilities. Like I couldn't have predicted that... lol mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa...) But ya gotta love the flexibility this format allows...
Previously on 'Days and Nights of Our Young Snakes'...
Tuesday evening. Having heard from the Poste Serpentes that the seventh years are somehow responsible for Severus being forced to bond Hermione (065 LJ / DW), the girls agree to put a stop to all... relations with the seventh year boys, to render them as miserable as sensibly (or magically) possible while about it, and to at least make an effort to see that the Head isn't required to act on his Protection Vow. (083a LJ / DW)
In an attempt to avenge their Head of House for the seventh years' involvement in the Great Bonding Debacle of '97, various third through sixth year Slytherin boys take a shot at hexing Vince Tuesday night while he's... stuck to one of the common room couches. (That courtesy of Harper; he's often remarkably helpful that way.) And if in the process it gives them a chance to unleash some of their pent up frustrations on the source for once, surely that doesn't discourage a one of them. Quite the contrary.
Something of a free-for-all ensues. (083b LJ / DW)
The spectacle of a purple-winged, green-haired, black-nailed Vince flapping away (with both ears and wings) that greets the House Wednesday morning is a sight no one who sees it is soon likely to forget... And to make sure they don't, Harper (doubtless trying to be helpful once again, or more realistically: struggling to help fill the Hutchinson family's exceedingly empty war chest) takes a number of snaps of Vince he plans to sell to his Housemates. (091b LJ / DW) Not so unpredictably, Vince takes issue with this scheme and means to have it out with the younger entrepreneur. Harper expects that to go about as well as the beatdown he took for last year's infamous 'Terrycloth Flobberworm' pictures he managed to get of Vince. (065 LJ / DW) Whatever else, Harper will freely admit: the older boy has a way with the camera matched by no one in House. (Well, except maybe Daph.) In the hope of lessening the... impact of the encounter, Harper has been practising a weak Protego (102a LJ / DW), and Tracey slipped him some Pain-Relief to be on the safe side. (111 LJ / DW)
Wednesday morning. Severus orders Slinky to administer Insalacious Saltpetre to Draco, Blaise and Vincent, because they are beyond stupid, and he's a Potions Master, for fuck's sake. (097a LJ / DW) Almost as eager to do his duty as he is to test assorted wards, Slinky sets about distributing the Saltpetre in their meals. (098b LJ / DW)
At dinner Wednesday, the Snakes come to realise that Vince may be supplying Hufflepuff Zacharias Smith with potions, and through him the whole school and not just their House as they'd previously believed. Working together they devise a series of tests to prove their hypothesis, and come up with a scheme to begin providing for themselves should that be the case, also by means of a group effort: brewing what they can and buying what they must. After some convincing, Harper is recruited to become one of their potential chief brewers. (105 LJ / DW)
Wednesday evening. Taking inventory of his potions, Vince discovers that there's a Lust Potion he can't account for, simply vanished from his well warded trunk. He begins to suspect possible reasons for the boys' culpability in the Head's bonding, and the nature of just which memories they might be missing from Friday night. (110 LJ / DW)
Vince has been looking for Harper, who rather cleverly seeks refuge in the feline habitat. Millie discovers Harper there and immediately goes to tell Vince (110 LJ / DW), a fact which goes over ever so well with the other girls in her House. There's a minor eruption as tempers flare, Ella (atypically) has a (very) few choice words for the rat, Millie (typically) takes offence and makes a dive for her (unfortunately: very typically; her mother would be so ashamed), wands are drawn, positions taken, Pansy is forced to step in, and a girls' meeting is summarily called for an impromptu intervention. A few girls remain behind to see if they can be of any use to Harper after the fact, but Pansy makes it perfectly clear: no one is to interfere. That doesn't sit well with all of them. (111 LJ / DW) Sheldon decides it isn't such a bad idea to get the younger children clear and with the exception of Hunter (who understandably wishes to keep an eye on his brother) and Wilfred (who may want to help Hunter or possibly just spectate) takes the first through fourth year boys to their dorms. The remaining fifth and sixth year boys stay behind in the common room to watch. (111 LJ / DW)
Working from a mutual desire not to effectively forfeit the upcoming Quidditch match to the Moggies, Harper agrees to help Draco and the other seventh years, a little, towards that end. (104 LJ / DW) Unprompted, but both from similar motivations and as a result of that promised cooperation, Draco orders Vince to go easier on Harper, much to the Beater's displeasure. (111 LJ / DW)
Last year. That 'Terrycloth Flobberworm' Incident... Having generously given it a shot once to unsatisfactory results, Ella - most reasonably - had refused to compound the error and go on a second date with Vince. Virtually no one could blame her. The notable exception naturally was the Beater, far from the intellectually most gifted of his House, who somehow thought the most appropriate response to her polite rejection would be to send her a Poste Serpente in reply. Hmm. (Coincidentally, he's far from being the House's charmer either.) Given the little known interactive component to the Serpentes that permits listeners to act as a jury, things went very wrong for him as a consequence, ending with him being bitten by the Serpent instead and writhing on the floor of the showers wrapped in terry, all to the accompaniment of the flash of Harper's camera's bulb. (We learn of it in 065 LJ / DW)
The last of Vince's knocks against the glass window of the cat habitat echoes through an unnaturally silent common room. Far too many heads are turned his way, all subtlety seems to have swum out the windows and into the Lake. Vince notices, most would, but if anything the reaction pleases him. It's good to know he still has most of them cowed.
After this morning, he wasn't so sure.
Sensing the tension in his human, Crankshaft nuzzles Harper in a comforting way. It leaves a few fine hairs stuck to the boy's face, which is when he realises he must be sweating.
Nerves.
No doubt about it. He doesn't even bother to brush the hairs away, they probably won't be there long. He sighs, gives Crank and his sister Shawshank last affectionate ear scratches, swallows the first phial of Pain Relief for good measure, grabs his things, which he Reducios and pockets, and then rises, turning to face the window and door.
The knock was unmistakable, not that he's had so many occasions to hear it, but no one else tromps through their House quite like Vince does. It's like living with an ill tempered Erumpet, and very nearly as precarious. Harper can't wait until next year when Vince will be gone. That should make such a terrific difference in the Prefect's quality of life...
It would be so nice to be able to earn money brewing instead of scraping together a handful of Knuts with stupid things like risking a beating from Vince in order to sell pictures or volunteering to have his nose broken to try to get Pain Relief from Pomfrey. Fine, that last had actually brought in a decent amount of Galleons, but school supplies were expensive, and it was two of them now he was trying to take care of...
Well, he might be able to work towards the potions goal, at least a little, if things go as they'd discussed with the rest of his Housemates at dinner. It could establish him for next year. But it's far from supplying all of Hogwarts like Vince apparently might.
Next year.
He just has to hang in there that long.
The thought provides a bit of comfort in the face of what Vince no doubt has in store for him. And if the potions thing works out, he'll profit, and undercut Vince's sales in the process. Yes, he'll happily take what comfort that offers...
Vince gestures for him to come over, and then doesn't even wait to see if he will. It's a demonstration of power, Harper recognises it, but he also follows him for exactly those reasons. It's simple really. They're in agreement as to the facts, Vince has a beef, a legitimate one, even. If Harper just accepts whatever he means to dish out, their ledgers will be balanced.
His fingers twitch reflexively as he readies himself to cast his weak Protego.
Ella tenses as she watches Harper mount and cross the dais and follow Vince into the Training Room. She hadn't realised quite how tense she was, or how visible that might be, until she feels Daph's hand on her arm. Or maybe the seventh year simply intuits her apprehension. That would be just like her.
The Prefect turns to her, and the older witch gives her a small smile that endeavours to be hopeful but doesn't quite reach her eyes; nevertheless, and possibly precisely for that reason, it makes Ella feel better. She's not alone worrying about Harper.
That's a silly thought, really, because Hunter is seated right next to her, and if anyone is worried, it's probably him. She faces him now, felling almost remiss not to have thought of it sooner, and is pleased to see Wilfred's got his hand on Hunter's arm, too. In contrast to Daphne's, Wilfred's grip seems to be fierce, more to physically restrain his friend than the gentle reassurance the girl's provides, but it's probably what's called for. In both cases, really. There's something to be said for restraining Hunter and keeping him from doing anything too foolhardy. Realistically, it was only likely to make the situation worse.
Ella takes a page from Daph's tome and places her hand on Hunter's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze to remind him she's there for him. For both of the Hutchinson boys. His nervous glance in return lets her know he appreciates that.
More than one of the onlookers has to fight with themselves to keep from calling out, yelling for Harper to stop, but they all succeed in holding their tongues. Ultimately they know Pansy was right. Harper didn't have to take the pictures, he chose to knowing the risks. And any one of them could have intervened then, but they hadn't for a variety of reasons of their own, ranging from wanting to preserve the memory of Vince on that couch to a desire to see the boy further humiliated to understanding just how badly the Hutchinsons need the Galleons. Anything they could do now won't help, it would only exacerbate the inevitable confrontation.
The time for action is past.
And so as a group, they rather helplessly watch Harper close the door to the workout facilities behind him. It dampens all sound, completely, but they have a clear view through the windows to the lounge. That's not exactly a consolation.
Vince leans causally against one of the exercise contraptions, there are no portraits here to complain about posture, arranges a decidedly mean smirk on his face and then drawls, "Can we just skip the games, or are you going to pretend you don't know what this is about?"
Harper weighs his options and leans into the turn. "No, I know what you want." He reaches into his pocket and amid the miniaturised school texts and his assignments finds the pictures in question. He pulls them forth and Engorgios them before holding them out to the boy. "Here. It's all of them." It's not a coincidence that he leaves his wand arm free at his side. He trusts Vince about as far as he can throw him, which isn't far at all with the weight on the boy.
"Is it now?" Vince leers and cracks his knuckles demonstratively. He doesn't reach for them, still casually lounging as if he hadn't a care in the world, and leaving the sixth year standing there with his left arm outstretched. Harper reminds himself that it's just another power play, and resolves not to let the seventh year see him sweat. That's pure stubbornness and possibly counterproductive, but as Vince isn't much given to sympathy, it might still be the better call. In light of his sadistic streak, it's every bit as likely that a show of weakness would prompt him to keep it going longer. Vince is far from socialised that way. And if he really didn't have anything to be concerned about, he wouldn't be so intent on chasing down these pictures, a thought Harper finds consoling. It isn't as though everyone hadn't seen Vince in that position only this morning. No, his... predicament hadn't escaped anyone's notice, not even the Head's.
Instead of letting his arm drop, Harper obstinately raises it a bit higher, making a mental note to apply some Muscle Mending Salve later and to remember to reduce his workout accordingly tomorrow, although presumably the charley horse will do the Remembrall's job for him...
"I didn't make any copies," the Prefect finally volunteers when Vince doesn't say anything more.
"Didn't you?" Vince snits. "How unfortunate. For you." If he isn't allowed to turn the boy into a smear on the Training Room floor, damn and blast Draco and his interference, then he can at least draw this out for all it's worth. That thought has him cracking his knuckles again. Harper fervently hopes there's some truth to his Great Aunt Harriet's claims that will cause problems with age, happily picturing it. He could always ask his Aunt Hildegard for a definitive answer, but she's more likely to debunk it...
Vince thinks for a moment, and Harper stands there wishing the boy could do so a little faster. "Did you have any made?" The seventh year finally asks.
"No, I didn't."
"Really? That really was stupid then." The knuckles crack once more. "Would you care to swear to it?"
Harper takes advantage of the opening to lower the arm holding the pictures. He's beginning to feel foolish standing there with his arm out this whole time, and it's beginning to tire. He draws his wand and complies. "On my Oath, I did not have any copies made." The expected golden glow comes and Vince nods. It says everything necessary about their dynamic that the sight of Harper stood before him with a wand in hand leaves Vince thoroughly unfussed. He has nothing to worry about here.
"You didn't swear you hadn't made any, though," Vince complains. Harper remedies that immediately. "Or that that's all of the ones you took." Another Oath follows that. Vince's lips purse as he considers, but he can't find any more loopholes. "Alright, I'm satisfied," he grunts and Harper returns his wand to its sheath.
"You could have spared yourself all of this if you just hadn't taken them in the first place," Vince tells him with a mock sad shake of his head. "What was the point?" Harper bites his tongue treating the question as purely rhetorical. When no answer is forthcoming, Vince retroactively decides it was. He finally looks at the pictures still in Harper's hand and then adds, "They aren't even any good. What's wrong with them? They aren't moving."
"No, as you can see, they didn't turn out." Harder readily agrees, and this is where Vince's inability to think and general ignorance pays off for him. Wild Thestrals couldn't get Harper to explain it's strictly a question of the developing process. And there's no way he's revealing they haven't been developed that way because it makes for a poorer Geminio. That'd be bonkers.
"So you're not just stupid, you're a rubbish photographer, too."
"Well I had hoped they'd be better..." Harper allows modestly.
"Talentless hack is what you are, both here and on the pitch."
That doesn't faze Harper in the least, although he wisely chooses to look a bit hurt. He's comfortable with himself, his accomplishments. He's not a Prefect for nothing (although he's reasonably sure it helps that the differentiation in his year is clearer than in Tracey's and Pansy's cases, say). Harper outperforms Vince in every single benchmark, except how much he can press on the machine behind the seventh year. It's probably not a coincidence the Beater chose to prop himself up against that one.
Although come to think of it, perhaps physical strength is the benchmark that matters most right now...
When he can't get a rise out of the younger boy, Vince finally gives up. "Alright, let's get this over with. Put the pictures down," he indicates the bench beside him, "and come over here."
Harper refuses to swallow, too obvious, but his throat's suddenly gone dry. The Pain Relief has definitely taken effect by now and he casts his silent Protego wandlessly and hopes it does the trick. He wishes he'd had the idea for that a week ago and had more time to practise, but then a week ago, he hadn't known any of this was likely to happen...
There are options, he could choose to fight Vince, ignoring for the moment what the seventh year may or may not have learnt from certain parties outside of school... He shouldn't care to imagine that. But he also isn't sure Vince wouldn't try to get back at him by taking it out on Hunter or Ella. As long as Harper takes his hits like a man, or his Hexes like a wizard, Vince seems content to keep this between themselves. All Harper needs to do is get through this year, and then the boy will be gone. He just hopes he never reaches any kind of position of power...
Draco's words still echoing in his thoughts, Vince has accepted he won't be able to pulverise the Chaser, but he isn't happy about it. Still, given he has a suspicion he may be to blame for the seventh year's fall from grace - there's that missing Lust Potion he can't explain - to say nothing about the Head's situation, Merlin, he may just want to keep Draco sweet. One, well, maybe two punches, that's probably about it.
But he means to make them count.
Harper puts the pictures down as... requested and goes to stand before the far bulkier Beater. He closes his eyes and waits for it.
With the Training Room's door closed and all present clearly observing the scene before them, there's no real reason to keep silent now and a number of people cry out as they watch the first of the blows land. Hunter, Ella and Daphne are unsurprisingly loudest of all. Vince hits Harper squarely in the belly and the boy doubles over. No one watching remains unaffected seeing the speed with which the Prefect jackknifes, the severity of his reaction.
Ella wraps an arm around Hunter, pulling him in for a half hug and whispering, "He'll be fine," into his close cropped hair.
"He shouldn't have taken the pictures," Hunter sniffles back, trying to keep from crying. "I shouldn't have brought him the camera..."
Ella gives the side of his head a peck. "We'll take care of him. He'll be fine," she repeats like a mantra, as if the act of will could make it so. But then magic is all about intent, so she may not be wrong on that score.
There's another sniff, from her other side this time, and she spots Daphne trying to maintain a stiff upper lip and failing miserably. Ella can't help thinking the girl's got it pretty bad where Harper is concerned. Those two are idiots and watching them not act on the obvious attraction sometimes tries Ella's patience. Still, it's nice to know people care about her friend. Especially when he insists on doing such foolhardy things. Or perhaps despite that. A sensible person would run a mile.
It makes her like the seventh year even more.
Tracey reaches out for Daphne, it's meant to be a consoling touch is all, but soon has her arm around a sniffling witch as Daph snuggles in taking any comfort she can get. She's so clearly thankful for the gesture, Tracey finds she doesn't even mind. She's not much of a hugger, but exceptions can be made from time to time...
When the second punch lands and one of the girls squeals, Aaron debates whether he shouldn't do something, Harper's not just his roommate, they're teammates after all... But then so is Vince, and really, Aaron isn't too sure what he should do... It's a pity Sheldon is off sorting the younger students as he'd know what's best. And he's closer to Harper, isn't he? Distant cousins, or some such, from the Shacklebolt side. Aaron rises a little in his seat, still wondering if he's overcompensating but even less willing to appear a coward. He looks questioningly to Torsten who just shakes his head. Lowly Tor whispers, "Pansy had the right of it. Wait."
Fortunately they needn't wait long as a satisfied Vince then takes the pictures in hand and destroys them with a rather unnecessarily flashy Incendio, the deliberate smirk in their direction making the reasons for the show clear. Leaving Harper on the ground with the ashes behind him, Vince emerges from the room soon after, rubbing the hurt from his knuckles with some satisfaction.
Again various people restrain various others, waiting for Vince to get clear. The worst has passed, there's no point in risking an escalation now of all times, and only once the seventh year has disappeared from sight in the direction of his room does a little group make a start for the prostrate sixth year Prefect.
It's something of a race.
Harper's Protego worked like a charm, ha, the first time at any rate... He assesses his situation as he lies on the floor. Or tries to. Really there shouldn't have been any doubt about the Protego. A wandless Nox - which he's pleased he can still manage - sorts the ashes glimmering around him, before he flops back barely conscious. Wouldn't that be lovely, having to explain any potential burn damage to their already seriously inconvenienced Head.
Vince is an utter trog.
Harper probably should have waited before trying magic again.
Or maybe used his wand.
That would have required moving, so: no, out of the question.
He probably needs chocolate. That's what they do, isn't it, when you're all flopped about, give you chocolate...
And if he doesn't need it, he'd like it.
A Chocolate Frog, perhaps... That'd be nice. It's been ages since he's had one of those... With his luck he'd get Dumblebore.
Of necessity, the Protego had been cast so close to Harper's body as to make its presence unknown. That made sense and realistically (certainly judging by Vince's grunt and the protracted knuckle rubbing), if anything it had been too strong. Hitting Harper had been a bit like hitting a wall, and he'll later brag of his rock hard abs for all the good it does him. (But honestly, that grunt of Vince's had provided some satisfaction.) The problem, of course, is that Protegos don't completely absorb momentum, why would they, and that had transferred all too effectively to Harper; subsequently the cry he'd intended to fake had been all too real. Bloody, buggering, fucking real. And while the Pain Relief had done it's job, quickly at that, the second time he hadn't quite managed to hold the Protego in place, and it had bloody well hurt.
But not as much as expected.
Which he can't explain in the least.
He decides Vince had pulled the punch, at least a little, in the face of the injury to his hand from the first one and the clearly apparent damage he'd already inflicted on the sixth year.
There's some truth to it, Vince had been reluctant for a repeat of the first blow, and sure, it hadn't been as utterly devastating because Draco's words of restraint had definitely had an effect, but that doesn't take into account that both Vince's lunch and dinner in the Infirmary had been dosed with Insalacious Saltpetre care of Slinky, their House's chief elf, and it's beginning to show some effect.
But then the boys have no way of knowing about that.
Harper may still be a little out of it, and his thoughts drift, a complete muddle as he lies there wringing for breath. It's weird, it's always been weird, the way the pain fades when he has the Potion, his body just needs to catch up. Except that's not entirely true, it hadn't 'always' been that way. Pain potions, just like almost all other things, cost money, even if you brew them yourself, and then they cost time as well. And his father hadn't really been of a mind to do that, brewing, certainly not the last several years.
Harper would have done it himself, he so often does, the unreasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery be hanged. He waits until his father's... asleep and then borrows his wand, but you need the skills, the knowledge to do so, and even then, without the ingredients, well, he could do sweet Fanny Adams is all.
'It' had gotten worse, so much worse since Harper's third year. He wonders if it was the fact Hunter - who he thinks he can now hear calling him, oddly enough - was also away at school and his father had had no one to keep an eye on him, or whom he ostensibly needed to 'care for' to give him reason to stay... abstemious. Or maybe it was the rumours of You-Know-Who's return, the reemergence of the Death Eaters. His father had been odd ever since the World Cup, really. And then at the end of the year when word got out they'd spent all year with Crouch Jr. as an instructor instead of Moody... His father had gone on a bender and hadn't resurfaced until Ella's mum, Elizabeth had gone off looking for him and fetched him home. It had taken her a while to find him, too. And almost as long to get him sober. Considering the potions she could now afford and the skill of the witch, that's saying something.
There've been many whispers how lucky his father was he hadn't been required to prosecute Crouch's case. Imagine the shame if he'd lost? It hadn't seemed improbable given the state of the man. Elizabeth had made it clear there could be no doubt about Crouch's guilt, it was certain, an escaped Death Eater, long presumed dead no less, had taught at the school...
He'd been surprisingly nice really, Crouch had. Both Harper and Hunter had learnt a lot from the man. He'd practically taken Hunter under his wing. Hunter still sometimes has problems with enunciation, and his swish probably leaves a bit to be desired now and again, but his intent has been solid ever since Moody, Crouch took him aside and taught him how it's done. He'd been a little Firstie at the time, and so proud of somehow meriting the special attention.
And Harper had frankly liked the man.
What does that say about his taste?
He's spared worrying too much if that might mean he leans towards... them - he doesn't, does he? he doesn't think so... - when it crosses his mind that he doesn't like Vince in the least. And Draco is a personified 'proceed with caution' sign... Harper recognises that. That's promising. And in his defence, he probably likes Ella best, who is certainly well clear... (And now he thinks he can hear her, too...) Oh, and Daphne possibly most of all, he can't forget Daphne... That definitely speaks for his taste. (Is that her... crying?)
And then there's an odd zap and a tingling sensation, warmth radiating out from his stomach or thereabouts, and suddenly things come into focus.
"Harper, are you alright?" Ella asks, wand in hand, her General Purpose Healing Charm freshly applied to his abdomen.
"I wanna Chocolate Frog," he replies, seemingly apropos of nothing. The others look at one another, clearly confused before Hunter begins to giggle, the tension getting to him. Daphne isn't far behind and the two set each other off even more. Daph looks especially odd, wiping the remaining tear tracks from her face as she sort of hiccoughs her way through another fit of giggles. Perhaps it's the angle. Most people look a bit odd from the ground. Certainly when they're also upside down.
Tracey performs a Tergeo, and Daph shoots her a thankful, if still somewhat watery, smile.
"Sure thing, mate," Aaron assures him with a bemused shake of his head. "I've got one back in the room."
"Are you alright?" Ella repeats. She's kneeling beside him and now he looks around a bit he can see Hunter on his other side, and someone is holding his head and massaging his temples and as he makes a bit of sense of everyone's positions he realises Daph's pillowing his head in her lap which seems awfully decent of her. His distraction on considering that decency, or possibly just the softness of that lap, diverts him long enough that he fails to answer. "Harper?" Ella tries again.
"Is he okay?" Daphne asks her now, suddenly more serious. Realising the question was rather foolish, she amends it, "Did the Charm take?"
"Well it assumes you know what you're doing, and I don't," Ella explains and wishes she'd gotten that Diagnostic Charm from Madam Snape. Rats. "I guessed what might need help and applied it, basically blind. If I'm wrong then it doesn't do any harm, but it won't have helped much either."
"How hard can it be to point at his gut and say 'make it better'?" Aaron complains, not quietly enough.
Tor snorts, "That's not how healing works..."
To which Aaron immediately rejoins, "That's how Pain Relieving Potion works," flustering Torsten completely because he's right. For fuck's sake. This is why Tor won't be going into the family business in anything other than a managerial capacity.
But Ella backs him up, "That's not how the Charm works anyway." Tor appreciates that.
Harper turns his head in Daph's lap to look at his brother, "Remind me to try an Arresto Momentum next time." His hair is too short to comb through, really, but her fingers have begun massaging his scalp, and he may just stay here forever, enjoying the feel of her nails on his skin.
Hunter nods, not sure quite why the Spell might help but taking his brother's word for it. The others just look concerned.
"Mate, you didn't fall. You got Vinced," Aaron tries to explain, succinctly, albeit not quite helpfully.
"Do you suppose he hit his head on the way down?" Tor asks the others, beginning to wonder if they'll have to send him to Pomfrey.
"Do you have anything for that if he had?" Tracey returns. The Touchstones are usually extremely well stocked, a benefit of being heirs to a potions empire if ever there were one. (And they can hardly go to Vince for a draught...) Torsten's weighing whether they'll have to fetch Tomasina for that when Harper replies.
"I'm fine," he tells them, slowly beginning to sound more like himself, but still doesn't move.
"Then why are you still lying there?" Aaron tries to reason with him, drawing a snort of amusement from Tor who has gathered the fact that Harper's presently using Daphne as a pillow probably isn't conducive to him rising sooner as opposed to later.
Harper pinks slightly, once again thankful for his dark complexion that renders that more difficult to spot, and someone, possibly Wilfred, laughs. Ella decides to give Harper a hand before things get too embarrassing and begins to lever him up. "Come on, we need to be out of here before the room closes." And Merlin, she's right.
The others realise their predicament, the room will eject them, quite forcefully, with little regard for their reasons for still being there when closing time rolls around. Without further discussion, Aaron and Torsten both grab their roommate under his arms, Tracey helps Daphne up (her left leg seems to have fallen asleep), Hunter gets the door and the group relocates to the dais outside.
"Good catch," Tor praises Ella.
She smiles, "All part of being a Prefect, being mindful of that sort of thing."
"Tell that to our other Prefect," Aaron laughs with a nod towards Harper, still wobbly on his feet, but it's easier to laugh now that he seems more and more himself. Harper just gives him a good-natured grin.
"Were the pictures worth it?" Tor asks.
Ella fishes about in her pocket, pulls forth a small stack she then Engorgios and says, "Judge for yourselves."
Harper gives her a scolding look, he'd have rathered no one knew she was involved, but Ella shakes her head. At the latest, when he gets their Oaths to keep the photos' existence from Vince - and he will, she knows it - she'll be covered by extension as she sees it. Harper knows there are always ways around that and wishes she'd be more conservative, but after the sorts of things he gets up to, he's in no position to lecture. She hands the photographs to him and he shows them to the others.
"Those wings," Daph half sighs as she traces them with a finger, sounding incredibly wistful as she does.
"Yeah, I don't think Vince enjoyed them anywhere near as much," Harper grins a bit wolfishly back.
"They aren't moving..." Wilfred starts to object when they're interrupted by the great 'bang' of a door slamming open and an accompanying shriek.
"My Sousaphone!" Anneliese Burke comes somersaulting involuntarily out of the music room in a series of crashes and thuds, her Searing Sousaphone follows not soon after.
Tracey is so good as to cast a spell to catch it, and Aaron takes advantage of the opening to tell Harper, "That's what Arresto Momentum is for." It isn't often he gets the one up on Harper, especially not when it's about stuff they're supposed to learn. Bartholomew shoots up from his seat at one of the tables and darts over to them, thankfully collecting the instrument from where Tracey's Charm holds it while his sister catches her breath on the floor.
"Because Sousaphones so often go flying about," Tracey ribs Aaron in return. He's too entitled for her tastes, and if she had to choose, at least in this regard, she'd sympathise with Harper any day.
"Wasn't what I meant..." Aaron mutters in reply as Tracey and Daphne go to help the fourth year to her feet.
Bart's and Daphne's enquiries as to her welfare coincide with Lisa's "Is my Sousaphone okay?" priorities being as they are.
"How hard is it to cast a Tempus?" Wilfred chides his classmate.
"I got carried away," she explains. "I had to make up for not getting to practise this morning." There are some snickers as they recall Vince on the couch being the reason for that deviation from her usual routine. So worth it.
"What's a few notes more or less?" Wilfred asks, and Lisa, still dusting herself off (although it's primarily a psychological response given how clean the house elves keep their rooms), launches into an enthusiastic attempt at explanation - pearls before swine - but Tracey interrupts.
"We really should join the others. Pansy called a meeting," she explains to the fourth year who'd obviously missed the announcement, and Lisa stops her fruitless campaign to make Wilfred appreciate the finer nuances of her classic Sousaphone piece. Bart hands Lisa her Searing Sousaphone which she clutches to her almost as though it were a living creature. The others are used to it and see no need to comment on her behaviour. Careful examination reveals no signs of damage, Tracey's Arresto Momentum had nicely done the trick, and it's got some of the best Imperviuses Galleons can buy. If Lisa were willing to store her Sousaphone in the room as most others do with their instruments - a Possession Line hinders any conceivable attempt at theft after all, and it wouldn't be terribly likely even without it - then it wouldn't have been subjected to the rough ejection, but she's clearly too attached to even consider it.
Ella looks a little hesitant, reluctant to leave Harper just yet, and Tracey, trying to sway her, adds, "It was my suggestion."
"Technically it was Alberta's," Ella corrects, a sight more pedantically than usual for her reluctance.
Tracey understands the reasons clearly enough that she doesn't even get impatient. "I was one of the ones lobbying for it, was I not?" She reminds her gently. "We need to speak with Millie and this is a conversation I don't wish to miss." Pansy is likely to go too easy on her and Alberta hasn't remotely the same priorities as either she or Daphne. This isn't something she wants to leave in their hands.
Daph twitches a little, too, torn between a desire to stay, to see to Harper, and yet eager to lobby for Theo once more. She nibbles her lip indecisively.
Tracey looks significantly at Harper and prods again, "Because I think we really do need to have a word with her." That puts things well and truly into perspective, Millie being the mad cow who'd told Vince about Harper after all, and suddenly Ella's on board.
"You're sure you're alright?" She asks her friend once more.
Harper nods, "Right as rain," waving her in the direction of the girls' wing.
"Objection!" She replies, although not quite with the usual degree of enthusiasm.
"It presupposes a well being not presently in evidence?" He answers a bit tentatively, but the familiarity sets her at ease. She smiles at him affectionately as she cuffs him playfully.
"He's got me to look after him," Hunter chimes in reassuringly.
The girls are kind enough not to challenge the utility of that, but Wilfred can't quite stifle his snicker, although it's unclear if he tried overmuch. He's about as mannered as he is subtle.
"We'll see to him, and he has my potions at his disposal. On me," Tor adds, atypically generous which gets him a pair of looks from Ella and Tracey, appreciative and appraising, respectively. One of them probably has his number.
"Right, thank you. That's very kind of you, Tor. I guess we'll see you tomorrow then," Ella replies and the small group says their goodnights.
"Think they'll ever make a go of it?" Wilhelmina quietly asks Phineas Nigellus in their portrait overlooking the room as she captures his knight.
"Which two?" He answers and just like that, the portrait of Slytherin faculty is off, chattering amongst themselves about the students, young love and all their long years of observing the same with the probabilities for success of any such amorous endeavours calculated on the fly.
In the final analysis, Phineas Nigellus' estimation of the situation is deemed more likely, which proves of some consolation as Wilhelmina takes his queen.
Yet again.
"Do you suppose you could teach me that Healing Charm?" Daphne asks Ella as they head for the seventh year girls' room.
"I'd be happy to. It's not that difficult, but it takes a bit of practice to target it properly."
"Oh? Why's that?"
"Think of it as like the Finite Incantatem, where it isn't going to work unless you have some idea of what you're undoing."
"And are using the appropriate Finite to begin with," Tracey points out.
"That's half the battle, naturally, but assuming you've applied the right general purpose charm, you still need to understand what you're trying to do with it..." Ella continues, and they're still discussing the vagaries of directing such charms when they walk in on the girls' meeting, now well under way.
The door has only just closed behind them when Alberta sets in on Millie. "I know we shouldn't expect much from you, but that was truly appalling. Have you taken complete leave of your senses or do you genuinely have no sense to speak of?"
The other girls in their year so clearly outperform them that Alberta is happy for the chance to put Millie more firmly in her place; it's no coincidence that she targets the Reserve Beater's intelligence first and foremost.
As Alberta hadn't seemed especially concerned by Millie's actions before, the suddenness of the attack and its vehemence takes her all the more by surprise; perfectly reasonable as it's easily half a bit of theatre. She blanches, exceptionally sensitive to such claims; her inferiority complex is probably only exceeded by the chip on her shoulder. Of course that latter has her fingers itching for her wand.
"Well if my behaviour still comes as such a surprise to you after all this time, then maybe you're no brighter than I am." On consideration, Millie isn't sure she hasn't just shot the Quaffle through her own goal. Damn, er... Actually her mother can just go to hell and take Alberta along with her.
She'll probably have to apologise for that later.
The thought only makes her madder.
The result is almost inevitable, but Pansy goes between them. "Both of you, stop this immediately. Alberta, lay off her."
Alberta happens to think that was inevitable as well. As she sees it, Pansy always favours Millie, and it isn't remotely fair.
Alberta is probably missing that friendship has nothing to do with fairness. It's a great deal more to do with the sympathies between the people involved, and by and large, Alberta is rarely particularly sympathetic. She doesn't really see the point to it, and she certainly hasn't the patience. The result was something of a foregone conclusion.
Her annoyance at Pansy's reaction is only heightened by the fact almost all of the girls were gathered there to witness it. Bloody brilliant.
This time is different from their normal arguments, however. Things are more complicated than usual. In addition to the fact the Runcorns' standing seems to be on the rise, something Pansy is only too aware of (and that's a disadvantage inherent in the fence sitting the Parkinsons prefer - it mitigates the losses, but also the potential gains), this time is more complicated because, for once, Pansy is inclined to agree with Alberta.
Will wonders never cease.
But the players have their roles and everyone comes to expect certain responses from them. As a result, Alberta is stunned and Millie rather hurt when Pansy takes her friend aside and begins to start in on all the things they'd discussed only the evening before. Surely Millie must understand what she'd done wrong?
Millie frankly understands bugger all at the moment, staring at Pansy as though this were a betrayal.
Pansy tries to take some of the sting out of it (with little success) and addresses the group as a whole, attempting to explain why this behaviour isn't acceptable in light of the decisions they'd reached last night. For Millie, the public censure from her friend is worse than any attack from Alberta, and she has to fight not to cry. (And can't she just hear what her mother would say if she did?)
Alberta is frankly enjoying the sight, although she has to wonder what Pansy thinks she's going to achieve by covering the same ground they had yesterday. The facts haven't changed; the arguments remain the same. The boys were responsible for the Head's bonding, it put him seriously at risk (never mind the fact he was now bonded to Granger of all witches, and a Mudblood at that), and at the least, some ostracism was called for. Millie quite obviously disagreed with their decision, she patently wasn't convinced and she'd acted on it. Repeating their reasons for shunning the boys wasn't likely to be any more successful than the previous attempt, really... Which isn't to say Alberta minds the show. Of course not. She sits down on her bed, leans back and prepares to watch the Prefect scold the entire group as if they'd all shared in Millie's poor judgment.
Róisín and Ava take advantage of the fact Pansy has drawn everyone's attention to sit down next to Alberta. Ava puts up an Avery family Privacy Charm - as a fifth year, she's too young to have learnt the House Charm, but from such an old pureblood family, she's not without resources - and Alberta is soon unpleasantly surprised to find herself on the receiving end of a rebuke of her own, the only thing that makes her situation preferable to Millie's being that privacy. Nimue's knickers.
"And what were you thinking when you left us hanging there against Ella and her lot? Or were you just too cowardly to take a stand?" Ava accuses her.
That really irks Alberta, because if there's one thing her family does well, probably better than any of the other girls' families in fact, it's taking a stand. Ava and Róisín have quite some nerve getting in her face like this.
"I was thinking it wasn't a remotely sensible fight to fight." And that watching might provide a bit of sport, but it seems improvident to say so.
"So a coward then," Róisín hisses, more for effect than any need given Ava's Charm.
Alberta laughs, although she's far from amused. There hadn't been much of a show earlier, and she's missing the one now in favour of being reprimanded. That isn't helping her temper. The younger girls haven't much sense of their own, as far as she's concerned. Naturally, she doesn't improve matters in the least by telling them that. Eventually she recognises that attacking them when they're largely in agreement (politically, if not in this specific instance) isn't productive, and she switches the focus to Millie, a safer bet as she isn't part of the conversation and can't defend herself.
"Millie needs to learn to pick and choose her battles. For a Bulstrode, she understands piteously little about subtlety." Alberta shakes her head ruefully and one could almost believe she means it. If one didn't know her that is. "But then that was probably to be expected given her parents."
"What's wrong with her father?" Róisín asks, genuinely confused. As she sees it, the Bulstrodes as a family are above reproach, one of the Sacred Twenty-eight, just like the Rosiers and Averys. Not even the Runcorns can boast of that, which makes it all the odder Alberta should broach the topic, and with the two of them, no less. Fine, Millie was a half-blood, but her father wasn't.
"Well he'd been willing to marry the creature, now hadn't he?" Alberta answers with a disdainful glance shot in Millie's direction.
Everyone has heard the rumours, obviously, that was nothing new. Millie's mother is supposed to be part Veela. Looking at Madam Bulstrode, it's easy to see how such rumours came into being, but living side by side with Millie for all this time, it's impossible to believe the girl has even a drop of Veela blood in her. Ava and Róisín follow Alberta's gaze and look at Millie.
No, it just can't be.
She may not be a pureblood, but there is no conceivable way she's part creature. Or at least, if she were part creature, as a few of the Ravenclaws had suggested, it would be part Troll, and no one who has ever met Madam Bulstrode would believe such a thing. She was a half-blood, pure and simple. They both were. That was all there was to it. It was a shame, naturally, to have diluted one of the ancient bloodlines, but it wasn't as though there weren't plenty of pureblood Bulstrode cousins, and marrying a half-blood was far from a crime.
Yet.
Ignoring the clearly preposterous claim, the girls return to their original objection: Alberta hadn't had their backs when the other girls drew their wands on them.
"We need to stand together. An attack on any one of us is an attack on all of us," Ava reasons.
"There are few enough of us as is," Róisín agrees.
"And there will be fewer yet if we allow the least among us to set the tone." The causal cruelty with which Alberta says it throws them for a moment, giving them pause. She's a year older than Róisín and has two on Ava, her family is active in politics; she has experience the others do not and she puts it to use. "We had agreed on a course of action, Millie went rogue, someone called her on it, fairly reasonably, in fact... Or do you think Pansy's in the wrong here, too?" The other girls remain silent. "So Ella wasn't mistaken then either. And Millie overreacted."
"'Daft cow' was rather... inflammatory," Ava objects.
"But Ella was essentially correct. It was more a question of... how she presented her argument?" That garners her a pair of uncertain looks. Alberta presses her advantage, "And if Millie's position wasn't legitimate, certainly it wasn't tenable, we shouldn't be following her lead. She should be following ours." Alberta feels rather magnanimous, including the other two in that, especially considering half the point of her argument was that they were in the wrong as well.
"Next time," she admonishes rather superciliously, "think before drawing your wands." She'd gladly end the Privacy Charm to demonstrate the discussion is closed, but she's frankly unsure how to go about it, a clear disadvantage of those damn family charms. Instead she turns pointedly to face Pansy, which succeeds in drawing the Prefect's attention.
"And you two!" Pansy wheels to address Róisín and Ava, much to their surprise. "I expect you to show the good sense to not exacerbate our problems. We don't need anyone else making matters worse..." When she then goes on to berate them for supporting Millie earlier, Alberta thinks all her Christmases may have just come at once. She only barely manages not to laugh; containing her glee is an ask too far.
Ava is so nonplussed by the rebuke, she forgets to lift the Privacy Charm before trying to defend herself, to rather comical effect. It might have ended there, they'd just hashed precisely this topic through with Alberta, after all, and come to understand the issue with their actions, but Pansy delivers the coup de grâce. "Róisín, you of all people should understand how serious this bonding business is. You never should have backed Millie's apostasy..."
Róisín is unable to reply, in part because no one has yet clarified that it boils down to 'disloyalty' ('And why couldn't Pansy just say so?'), but even then, several agree that was an astonishingly low blow. Even Alberta hadn't gone there (although she now half wishes she had). But how is a person to respond to such a callous mention of their family's tragedy?
Ava has no qualms and leaps to champion her friend, fuelling a debate as to whether or not it hadn't been precisely the opposite, they'd stood by Millie after all...
"But not the Head," comes the ever sensible rebuttal.
The argument then essentially boils down to politics. As it's a topic that's frankly impossible to discuss in the open in this way, it's the most marvellously disjointed thing, and Alberta begins to enjoy herself even more, and she's not the only one. It's only improved by the fact neither side seems able to complete a sentence without censoring themselves, yielding something by way of the strangest protracted stutter ever.
They're still arguing heatedly, or trying to - it's rough going when so much has to remain unsaid - when Ella and the others arrive, which puts a decisive end to the dispute. It's one thing for Pansy to try to show them the error of their ways, it's quite another to do it in front of the girl who called Millie a 'daft cow'.