“beyond wandpoint” 124b by gingerbred
“11 13h Thurs - And (aka Infirmary)” Part 2
Severus, Hermione, Staff: Minerva McGonagall, Poppy Pomfrey, Nurse Wanda Wainscott, Slytherins: Draco Malfoy, Theo Nott, Blaise Zabini, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Daphne Greengrass, Torsten Touchstone, Ella Wilkins, Astoria Greengrass, Tomasina Touchstone, Gryffindors: Ron Weasley, Lavender Brown, Fay Dunbar, Hufflepuffs: Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Others: Crookshanks, Polly the Infirmary house elf
Mentioned briefly: Slytherins: Harper Hutchinson, Róisín Rosier, Ravenclaws: Edgar Martins, Hufflepuffs: Megan Jones, Others: The Bloody Baron, Sunny the house elf, Slinky the chief Slytherin house elf
The Slytherins bring their seventh year boys to the Infirmary, naturally they aren't the only ones there. Severus and Crooks attend to pressing matters in chambers, while Hermione tries to figure out what she did wrong.
Originally Published: 2020-07-05 on LJ / DW
Chapter: 124 part 2
The original version of this chapter exceeded livejournal's maximum post length. It's been split in two parts.
THIS CHAPTER IS A TWO-PARTER.
**SCROLL DOWN AND READ THE OTHER PART FIRST** (124a LJ / DW)
ALSO, THE LAST CHAPTER WAS A TWO-PARTER. DID YOU READ BOTH PARTS? (123a LJ / DW and 123b LJ / DW)
Mr. Crabbe is quickly Mobilicorpused onto one of the Infirmary beds, and Wanda has begun to remove the bandages from his feet. Mr. Zabini stands there holding the boy's broom looking rather like he isn't certain how he'd been manoeuvred into that position. When he begins to object, Wanda assures him they'll be with him shortly and proceeds to ignore him. But it shouldn't take long at all to see to Mr. Crabbe and have him on his way. The boy seems gratified to hear it, or at least he does so right up until her attempts to apply Dittany to his wounds aren't met with much success, and she says as much to Poppy. A little sheepishly, one of the Slytherin girls speaks up.
Ella admits to having applied the Styptic Flick to Vince's feet. She now firmly hopes that's the issue, as admitting she'd used the Capsaicin on him was only likely to cause a great deal of trouble she'd rather avoid. She'd been relying on the improbability of it to help her avoid detection; that had seemed terribly clever at the time. In retrospect, she's having some difficulty justifying her actions to herself, the idea of trying to do so to the disapproving Nurse... But any niggling doubts she'd had on that front are immediately dispelled when Nurse Wainscott begins to give her grief for the decision to apply the Antihaemorrhagic Charm. Despite her relief the problem hadn't been caused by the Concoction, Ella still goes very quiet at the rebuke.
"Well we can't heal the cuts any better than that now," Wanda announces with a hint of scorn. It might have been lost on some, but there are ten Slytherins present at the moment. "It will simply have to take longer for them to close properly." Vince doesn't look pleased as those cuts had made walking all but impossible, and he highly doubts they'll send him off to class on his Nimbus... "The Pain Relief should carry you until then, however." That, on the other hand, sounds promising. Once the Nurse has re-bandaged his feet, he tries standing experimentally and is pleased to discover he can. He quickly retakes his seat and demands his socks and shoes from Draco, who is happy to oblige, his books following soon after.
All too quickly Vince encounters the next problem, it's nearly impossible to put his shoes on one handed. Fortunately he hadn't used his wand hand while showering - somehow he hadn't quite trusted Blaise to do an adequate job searching for hexes - and he's able to magic his shoes on with a Convesto, precision no longer being a concern. He's about to complain about the inability to use his left hand, the Nurse hadn't seen to it at all, but she's moved on to Gregory at the Matron's insistence and he finds himself at the back of the queue.
Blaise smirks to see him realise it as Vince retrieves his broom, Reducioing and pocketing it, but once they've watched the witch try to treat Gregory for the same issue, they'll both agree Vince is best off keeping schtum about the sticky goo. Merlin's beard. But the Infirmary staff will have to solve the problem for Gregory soon enough anyway, it's possible Vince can capitalise on that and spare himself some of the experimentation in the process.
Ron's previously pissy mood is now rather more so, brill, his litany of grievances seems sheer unending, and Lav can't help thinking no good deed goes unpunished. A little desperate to take his mind off the Slytherins, who only seem to call their Head of House to mind, and who in turn reminds her ex of Hermione (even more brilliantly), Lav makes a last ditch effort to try to distract him.
"You've really been so frightfully brave about your arm, Ron. How were you injured?"
Honestly, she's half surprised when that works, but shouldn't be; besides 'Mione's deception, he's one of his favourite subjects. Ron launches into a colourful description of his evening searching through spider-filled broom closets for some old portrait, recounts the story of the even more spider-filled bucket that landed on his head, wouldn't you know it, and then - to hear him tell it - the positively horrifying tumble down a flight of stairs that had done whatever it was to his arm. (He's still rather fuzzy about the medical details, much to Madam Pomfrey's irritation as she's explained it no less than three times. Spiral. Fracture.)
But as Ron's luck would have it, Malfoy's ears prick up almost magically at that last bit.
"Quit your whinging Weasel. I fell seven stories," as the ginger rat should well know, "and put up half the fuss." Fine, that was mostly because he'd been unconscious much of the time, but Draco hardly needs to admit that. Least of all to one of the tosspots he is certain was responsible for his fall. The Weasel and Rotter have much to answer for.
Now even more annoyed, it seems the way his morning is destined to go, Ron throws up a Muffliato against that side of the room, although a smaller one might have been wiser, and begins griping about the Slytherins, too. Draco thinks the appropriate thoughts about that buzzy bit of rubbish magic, Moggies, and shifts his attention back to the Matron. The Weasel isn't worth his energy.
Lav no longer seems interested in carrying the conversation, just no staying power to that witch, and so Fay feels pressed to attempt to cheer Ron up a bit. The way this is going, she could have just stayed at breakfast to listen to everyone continue to bicker, and fleetingly almost wishes she had. But for someone who thought she'd had enough of the complaining on the pitch, Fay certainly seems to like to instigate. Potentially it makes a real difference whom they're complaining about. She very much doesn’t have the same issues with listening to Ron go on about Hermione that Lav does. That whole cheating affair? Left Fay cold. She really hadn't cared if he was seeing one witch or the other. And an opportunity to complain about her ex-roommate? With one of the swot's best friends no less? It's not alienating in the least; it's a shared disgruntlement.
With the sort of unerring precision her Chasing still lacks, but then that's what practice is for, she proceeds to stir the pot. To distract Ron from the presumptive evils of the Snakes, she now tells him about their encounter with Hermione in front of the Great Hall a little bit ago, and just what the witch had claimed about spending time with her bondmate. All weekend and every night since...
One scarcely needs the skills of a Seer of Professor Trelawney's calibre to predict what comes next.
Sure, it might have helped had she related it more softly, but then Ron repeats the claims at volume so often and in such variation that even were the small group of Hufflepuffs still visiting with Justin nearly stone deaf, the vibrations alone would have carried the message. Loud and clear.
Lav's had enough. With some resignation she recognises there will be absolutely no getting Ron back on track, and really, she'd wanted to see about trying to find some material on the Beauty Charm that had been used on Crabbe's hair. Now that she's had the chance to see him for herself, she's even more interested in learning it. The Hair Colouration Charm was everything people had been saying and then some. Scalp deep, no sign of roots, a very thorough job on the colouring, his hair appeared truly lush and healthy, without a trace of irritation... The colour was beyond the pale, obviously. Bundimun green? Completely out of the question. Who came up with that? But yes, this had promise. The results seemed good, very good indeed. Perhaps the Charm was available with a modifier... That's if Rosier isn't hogging all the books again...
She makes the appropriate parting noises to Ron and Fay - Ron's basically fine, so it isn't even like this had been a sick bed visit, really - and Fay decides she'll stay and keep Ron company until they both have to go to Transfiguration. It's not like she had any business in the library today anyhow.
With a final, "See you both later then," Lav rises and leaves without a backwards glance. She really needs to get to the library before the Slytherin sixth year snags all the texts.
It's for the best. Had she stayed, she would have been very uncomfortable.
It isn't long before Susan Bones' curiosity gets the best of her, and already perfectly scandalised by the fact Hermione has been associating with the Bloody Baron - whatever for? - she's eager to get all the latest goss. For her part, working off of the stories Lav had spun about why Hermione had been missing last Saturday night, Fay begins to energetically recount some of the more creative variants that in light of the bonding and Hermione's subsequent confession suddenly seem a great deal less improbable. Rather predictably, things spin a little out of control.
Equally predictably, by lunch the tale is all over the school.
Between them, the girls arrive at the now so obvious conclusion that Hermione and Snape had been caught in flagrante delicto, whereupon they were forced to bond to avoid censure. By whom is left open to speculation, not being nearly as interesting as the rest, and neither feels the need to explain why others had gotten bonded as well. Perhaps the Headmaster had been trying something new? No one claims to understand the man. Or maybe it had to do with whatever had caused Megan Jones to leave school, Susan suggests. That conclusion might just have some merit. Ron's anger battles with his incredulity, winning out in the end. Any impulse he may have felt to mention the attack on Hermione is stayed by that more than his Oath not to speak of it, although truthfully germinating seeds of guilt - deeply repressed, to be sure - largely keep him from even thinking of it.
But fundamentally, on some level Ron's still having trouble believing it. 'Mione? With Snape? Of their own volition? Wild Thestrals. He thinks the absolute worst of Snape, truly, and he still can't imagine it. Snape hates them all. But then 'Mione had definitely bonded the git and never said so much as a word to him or Harry. Not even after the fact. He wouldn't have thought that possible either. Never in a million years. And then there's the fact the others who'd gotten bonded were clearly couples...
Not the least offended by his disbelief, surely a little scepticism is sensible, Fay's quick to take an Oath to prove Hermione had indeed confessed to the assignations. It's difficult to argue with that. Well, unless one were to ask if Hermione had been telling the truth, that is, or if her claims had led Fay to have anything like an accurate picture of what had actually taken place, but that escapes the brain trust presently trying to piece events together in the Infirmary.
Hannah's initially a little slower to warm to the story, but between her and Fay, it will make the rounds of the Transfiguration class. Ron's sullen demeanour and antagonistic attitude towards the witch at the heart of the matter will be deemed confirmation enough. After Hermione's inaction yesterday when Justin got hexed, he is presently all too capable of believing the very worst (with both of his heads had it been a true Transfiguration), and he'll be mentioning it when some of the others from his House stop by to visit with him later. He has a reputation of knowing what's what that he's eager to maintain, and a protracted stay in the Infirmary can be a mixed blessing along those lines. Susan, naturally, will be only too eager to tell her classmates in Ghoul Studies what she's learnt. She's simply sociable that way.
Of course none of this is doing a thing for Ron's mood. By the time he, Fay and Hannah make it to Transfiguration, his blood is practically at a boil.
Polly the Infirmary house elf reappears with a fresh shirt in hand. She'd had to locate Slinky to retrieve it for her, having no access herself to the Slytherin dungeons, and he hadn't been altogether easy to find. She'd needed to resort to using a portrait to fetch him. She's proud of both her tenacity and resourcefulness, but no one ever seems to question how elves get things done. It's frightfully discouraging sometimes.
A little timidly she hands the garment to the blond; he takes it from her without a second thought and begins to change, providing both Tori and Tomasina with an eyeful. Once he's removed his soiled shirt, he passes it to the little elf. "See what you can do about the blood," he orders. He's in luck, she might just be able to put it back to rights. Blood is tricky for a variety of reasons - obvious to anyone who has taken even the most cursory sniff of the Dark Arts - and generally only the more gifted and practised witches and wizards are able to Banish it with ease. As the elf assigned to the Infirmary, Polly has rather a lot of experience with removing bloodstains, not that anyone is likely to appreciate that fact either. With a loud 'pop' of frustration, she disappears to the laundry and sets to removing the stains. With her luck, she can't help thinking Slinky will take all the credit for it too. (And that only shows how little she understands humans, as Draco is no more likely to pay Slinky any attention than he had Polly. If it isn't one of his family's elves, he takes virtually no note of the creatures at all.)
Poppy feels better almost immediately once the boy has removed his blood soaked togs. The feeling is short lived, gone as soon as she examines Mr. Nott's foot with her own two eyes. Having the injury show up on her scan is still very different to actually looking at the mutilated appendage. "Goodness, Mr. Nott, whatever have you been up to," she sighs. It's purely rhetorical as she knows better than to trust most of the answers the students give her.
Draco hurries to reply, "One of the shampoo bottles broke. They were showering, barefoot obviously, and cut themselves on the shards."
"Those must have been some shards," she replies wryly, not believing a word of it. She examines the appendages the boy brought, and is pleased to find them still viable. That will simplify matters greatly, as a reattachment is much faster than regrowing them would be, she explains as she goes about her work. In fact, one toe had lost too much tissue to have even been a candidate for regrowth in the first place, so yes, this is quite lucky indeed. Daph seems a little queasy just from the idea, Theo appears only marginally better, but then at least it's his body the Matron is discussing. Poppy cleans the wounds and performs the Charms, with the Pain Relief in the boy's system, it doesn't hurt in the least.
Perhaps she should have mentioned that in advance.
"You'll need to stay put for several hours for it to properly take, Mr. Nott, and it will be some weeks before it's quite right, I'm afraid. But other than that, you should have no lasting problems with that foot of yours." If possible, Daphne looks more relieved than Theo, so much so she may have cooed. Draco can't help rolling his eyes - the fool Weasel is lying right there, after all, and they have an image to maintain - but Tori just smiles at her sister. She understands. She'd have felt much the same way had something like that happened to Tomasina, say, not that she'd have probably cooed, but then that was Daph for you.
The Pain Relief has begun to work its magic on Theo, and when the Matron tells him how lucky he is his friends had acted so quickly and cleverly in getting him - and his toes - to her in such a timely fashion, he's able to reply sounding almost like himself again, "Thank you, Madam Pomfrey. Yes, I know. We were very fortunate to have them help us." Daph gives him a funny look, coming to the conclusion that residual physical discomfort isn't the reason that sounds a little off. At a guess, Theo is thinking about the probable reason for the morning's misadventures, and now she is too.
Wanda is staring at the black streaks on Mr. Goyle's face and hair, but then they're difficult to overlook, much like the Snitch for some reason flapping away enthusiastically on his chest. Daph had done such a cracking job of repairing his clothes that the patches on his body aren't visible, but shy of a Notice-Me-Nott or Disillusionment, there was no way his blackened head wouldn't stand out like a sore thumb. What's particularly curious is the matter hadn't appeared on the Nurse's scan. That makes sense, in as much as it isn't a condition or some manner of magical malady. In both the physical and magical senses, it hasn't actually affected him, the Wheeze is merely stuck to the boy - or vice versa - and no longer exhibiting all too much magic either. The problem is closely related to one of the reasons Argus has had such difficulty identifying potions when searching for contraband.
"What's this then?" She finally asks, gesturing towards the stuff she simply can't place, and the boy tries to explain. With the Pain Relieving Potion in his system, he no longer has any issue being his usual gregarious self, but Gregory also has precious few answers he could offer. As far as he knows, this was as likely to be a Hex as a Wheeze. Wanda seems unsatisfied by his explanations. "And why are your hands encased in Bubblehead Charms?" Again come the attempts at explanations as she Finites the Charm, and she's even more puzzled to discover pieces of tile attached to one hand. Students get up to the oddest things.
"Anyhow, the stuff is frightfully sticky," he concludes. "Tori had the idea for the Bubblehead. Thought it would be safer." Tori smiles at him before recalling she probably shouldn't, rightfully taking it as praise. The Nurse, however, seems less convinced by her precautions. Presumably the fact Wanda's scans hadn't identified the Wheeze as a problem have her grossly underestimating the substance.
The Nurse summarily Summons a flannel, and before anyone can stop her, tries to wipe the viscous black matter from one of his hands.
"No!" Blaise, Vince, Gregory and Tori all cry as one. Gregory flails in an attempt to free himself from her grasp, but it's too late, the damage is done.
"Merlin's bloody beard," Vince grumbles, now positive the woman is a menace, and dead certain he won't be showing her his hand or shoulder. Brilliantly managed. Truly. The bint hadn't listened to a single word Gregory had said. Worse than useless at that rate.
Wanda discovers the reason for their objections - a trifle belatedly - when the flannel fails to budge from the spot. She tries to push and then to tug it free, Gregory finally complaining when it pulls too hard on his skin. She adjusts her grip and means to try again and Blaise yells for her to stop. Tori chimes in, with effort mustering the patience to try to explain the situation - once more - to the evidently wilfully thick woman. "If you don't wish to find yourself stuck to him, you can't afford to touch that stuff. Don't allow any of it to come in contact with you, or anything else for that matter." That seems overly dramatic, and Wanda appears doubtful. That doubt dissipates, however, when she sees her cloth disappear before her eyes, somehow absorbed by the sticky mass which now seems even larger.
And quite possibly blacker and shinier, too...
"What is that stuff?" She asks again, incredulously; unsurprisingly they have no better answers for her than the last time she posed the question. "Well try not to touch anything," she instructs the boy, and the Snakes have great difficulty not rolling their eyes collectively at that. Gregory had done his level best not to after all, and she'd effectively thwarted him.
Gregory sits there with his arms bent, hands held upwards and away from his body. Frankly he thinks he was better off before, but he can't perform the Bubblehead Charms without a wand, and doesn't quite trust the Nurse enough to ask her for assistance at this point. He's weighing asking Draco to cast them again. Or maybe Tori would help. She'd understood why they were necessary after all...
Spurred to action by the sight of the dissolving flannel, and despairing of making the Nurse see sense, Blaise takes advantage of the improved access the position provides to use a Diffindo to slice the Snitch from Gregory's chest. Its wings stop flapping immediately, and it drops like a stone. Even with only one hand available, Blaise is exceedingly quick to catch, shrink and pocket it; there are excellent reasons he's their Keeper. They can always stick the sad thing back on the entryway ceiling, although from the look of it, the boys suspect it will be inert from this time forward. Couldn't be helped, and there are enough other Snitches that it shouldn't go noticed.
The group watches with some discomfort as the scant remains of the Snitch the Diffindo had left on the Beater's chest disappear behind one of the Glamours Daphne had cast, the implication clear: they too have been absorbed. If anything, it only frustrates them further. It was fortunate Blaise had been able to cut things so closely and hadn’t fed the gunk more.
Wanda couldn't say she appreciates the way that young man had inserted himself into her patient’s treatment, and she likes the disdainful looks the students are giving her even less. She decides it's time to move them along. "You lot should get going to breakfast," she tells them, "or you won't have any at all." Somehow after the morning they've had, for most that doesn't seem like such a dire threat anymore, and Gregory is quietly certain Infirmary staff would eventually offer him a nice nutrient shake if nothing else. He'd had those for three months straight back when he first started his body building programme. To be honest, he rather misses them. And besides, he isn't altogether sure he's free to go anyhow...
The group looks at one another, but no one seems inclined to leave. Tor might have, they'd got the boys safely to the Infirmary, and he'd planned to begin with their potion purchasing scheme this morning, but Ella is standing there with her arms stubbornly crossed, and he'd bet she won't leave until she knows the seventh years are sorted. That makes up his mind for him. One by one they shake their heads, and Draco still feels charged to answer for the group, "We'll wait."
Poppy turns to the last of their patients, "Mr. Zabini, take a bed would you. I'm afraid you'll be joining Mr. Nott here today."
Blaise is surprised to hear it, especially as he could swear the witch hadn't even laid a hand or wand on him yet, but the Matron performs a Charm and the bed Vince had just vacated is cleaned and made - the silent invitation more than clear - and he takes a seat in the space next to Theo's without argument. Blaise had rather expected this was the matter of a Charm, perhaps another potion at worst, and bob's your uncle. Slowly he's beginning to become concerned.
Theo tries to give him an encouraging smile.
It fails to help.
Resigned to the way this is turning out, Draco begins to retrieve their things from his pockets and deposits them on their bedside tables, Engorgioing them for their convenience. His apologetic look as he does so doesn't do much to console Blaise either.
Disappointed with the students' continued presence, Wanda decides to move on to Mr. Goyle's foot. The course of action there was more obvious than with the unknown material on his head and hands. Or at least she thinks so. When she unwraps the bandages, she's surprised to see his wound has grown mostly closed.
"And what charms did you use here?" She asks the group accusingly, somewhat exasperated and meaning to avoid another hiccough as with the Dittany.
Ella still doesn't seem inclined to speak up, so Daphne answers for her. "Harper suggested the Muscle Mending Salve." She's not trying to land him it, not by any means. She thought that had been frightfully ingenious of him, and means to see he gets the credit for his idea.
The Nurse seems unconvinced - of course she does - and now Tomasina feels the need to defend their decision, "The tissue growth is a side effect. Gregory's wound was so large..."
"Amateurs," Nurse Wainscott scoffs softly, shaking her head. "Poppy, you should come and see this..." Wanda calls to her colleague. Her disapproving tone gets more than a few of the Slytherins' backs up. They'd faced a serious problem, a dangerous problem, and mastered it fairly well as far as they're concerned - and that without anyone else's assistance - and here the Nurse stands there condemning their efforts.
It doesn't go over well.
The Mediwitch had caught part of the exchange, and with Mr. Nott managed and Mr. Zabini anything but urgent had rather wanted to see for herself what they'd done. The invitation for a shufti suits her fine. "Muscle Mender?" She repeats as she examines the wound, silently impressed. "Clever," she finally passes judgment. "Risky though," she adds.
"How so?" Tomasina had given the idea her all clear. If there's something to be wary of here, she wants to know it.
"There's always the risk of uncontrollable growth. The Salve is hardly targeted. Or targetable for that matter." She isn't trying to suggest they'd applied it improperly, only that the solution wasn't without hazards of its own.
Ella finally speaks up, "I only used a very little on it, and it seemed to be just the tissues involved in the injury." The admission is a touch grudging.
"I said it was clever," Poppy assures her, judging the girl's reluctance as stemming from being put out at their lack of recognition. "Merely not without risk. You were lucky here."
Ella and Tomasina can't help thinking it was more than luck, but they're used to not getting much credit from the rest of the staff besides their Head. There's a nearly identical placid indifference to the set of their expressions that almost makes Poppy laugh. Severus had spent most of his childhood with the very same look. She knows better than to think the girls are satisfied and decides to throw them a bone. "But you've greatly accelerated the healing, and I imagine he'll be out of here before very long." They visibly relax - at least slightly - to hear it.
"Alright, ladies and gentlemen." The Matron claps her hands for their attention. "We'll be keeping Misters Goyle, Nott and Zabini. There's nothing more for the rest of you to do here. If you hurry, you might still get a quick bite to eat before classes begin." The Snakes recognise a dismissal when issued, not, mind, that the woman offers to write them a note in case anyone should take issue with their hurrying, as a couple don't fail to notice.
None are overly surprised.
But that reminds Daphne of the healer's Note Writing Charm Hermione had told their Transfiguration class about Tuesday morning, and for the briefest of moments, she considers staying to ask the Mediwitch about it, but somehow the Matron's manner doesn't seem to encourage questions. And of course she still has patients to see to obviously... Somewhat regretfully nonetheless, Daph shelves the idea for a later day.
Draco places Gregory's things on his night table and Engorgios them; from the look of things, Gregory won't be in any shape any time soon to do that for himself. The Prefect and Vince are the only ones to say goodbye to others, yet another sign of just how bad the seventh years are presently received, although Daph can't quite resist a small wave at Theo. The fact it isn't a great deal more expressive is ample proof that she hadn't stopped considering why all of this had happened to the boys for anyone likely to contemplate her reaction. Typically enough, no one but Theo does.
"Miss Wilkins?" Poppy stops them at the doors. The sixth year Prefect turns to face her. "Kindly instruct Professor Snape there's been an... influx of his students in the Infirmary, and we presently have three of his in our care." She takes another look at the boys and adds, "Some detail might be advised."
"Will he need to see to them himself?" Ella asks, her features schooled into an almost neutral mask.
"I believe we're capable of muddling through without his assistance," the Matron answers, not without a trace of humour, missing the point that the Slytherins are all too used to not being able to count on help from other quarters. "I simply wanted him apprised of the situation." Particularly as she had told him not very long ago that there were no Slytherins in her ward... Things can change ever so quickly in the castle.
Ella nods, already trying to decide what it might be best not to mention. Draco's having similar thoughts. At the least, he'd like the chance to try to set their lav to rights before Severus has an opportunity to survey the damage.
When the doors shut behind them, Tor asks the others if they'll have to run to make breakfast. Politely no one comments on why he hadn't simply cast a Tempus, although Vince had been tempted. This entire affair may yet teach him some manners.
Then again...
Draco's Tempus establishes they needn't run, which is just as well. Anyone in authority spotting them was more than likely to take stupid amounts of points from them, especially as he, Ella, and Tomasina are Prefects. But in unspoken agreement, the seven Slytherins set off at a very stiff pace.
With a bit of luck, they may not have to settle on pasties, although anything remotely resembling the full English Vince would prefer is clearly out of the question.
Things are awkward amongst the group, and they scuttle along in silence, their positions in the pecking order rather hopelessly confused since the Serpents had announced the seventh years' guilt to the House Tuesday afternoon. As long as they'd had something they needed to accomplish together, it hadn't seemed to matter. Much. Now... Not knowing one's place apparently makes informal interactions unexpectedly... difficult for the Slytherins.
At a guess, Draco would wager he and Vince are the least popular of their group, assuming - correctly - the others considered them the most to blame for Severus' bonding. They weren't wrong there either. And so the rest walk some distance apart from Vince and himself, and the atmosphere is decidedly frosty. Feeling an awful lot like a window of opportunity is closing, perhaps irrevocably, Draco decides at a minimum he should make an effort to capitalise on the others' willingness to help them. At the least he needs to try to make peace with them before they reach the Great Hall and peer pressure renders that all but impossible.
Realistically, it will probably be all he can hope for if he were to reach only a single one of them.
His target is determined as the intersection of feasibility and potential influence. He might be able to win over Daphne - although some of the looks she's thrown Theo have him wondering if perhaps she's begun to suspect what was at the root of all of this, in which case all bets are off - but he assumes Daphne isn't likely to convince many others to change their minds about the boys. Her sphere of influence is more... limited. (As usual, he underestimates her somewhat.) Ella on the other hand... People listen to the Prefect, and she's kind-hearted. She has to be or she'd have never gone out with Vince when he asked. Potentially Draco can work with that.
Ella had been unusually taciturn since the Nurse's reproach earlier. Thinking he knows the reason for it, Draco draws abreast of the sixth year and confidently tells her, "You did excellent work this morning, Ella. I wanted to thank you for that. We owe you a lot." For one thing it was true and the right thing to do - and for once he was able to, which is a rare enough occurrence - and for another, they need every ally they can get. His compliment would carry more weight if she were less aware of that fact.
Her lips tight, she nods. They do owe them a lot, and here the House had decided the boys didn't deserve their help either. It's certainly something to chew on. But ultimately she appreciates the acknowledgment and softens minutely. She'd done her best, and it had hurt to have Nurse Wainscott denigrate her efforts like that.
"Then do me a favour, if you would?" She asks after a while. "Don't tell anyone I, um, vomited at the sight of Theo's injuries." Her shoulders are pulled back and her head is held high, but he can still see the embarrassment playing around her eyes.
As potential requests go, he hadn't anticipated this one. A little confused, he replies with a shrug, "You're only human."
"Yes, well, I had hopes of maybe some day studying to become a healer. Rumours of squeamishness might scotch that."
"There's no shame in it," he attempts to reassure her again. "He's a friend, a housemate you've lived with for over five years now, of course that's going to affect you."
"And yet you didn't sick up all over the place, and Theo's one of your closest mates..."
Draco pales slightly, a feat she wouldn't have considered possible given his natural pallor, especially today, and quietly replies, "I've seen worse. I've... had some practice."
That's not something she wants to consider, not at all. It calls too many highly problematic things to mind - her mother has warned her about this - and of course the seventh years are still very much on the outs. With only a last nod, she leaves things at that, speeding up enough to join the others. And then as Draco watches, Tor swoops in between them like some sort of Protego personified, as though it were necessary, although doubtless also angling to escort her to breakfast. He can be efficient that way.
Silently, Draco mulls over her request as they go. Blaise and Vince hadn't observed Ella's reaction in the lav, Gregory had definitely had his own issues, and Theo didn't seem to be noticing much of anything at the time. That she doesn't seem to think she has to worry about Harper, Daphne, Tori or Tomasina but that she explicitly needs to say something to him is just another one of those changes since Draco took the Mark. In addition to everything else - and there's certainly plenty of 'else' - that annoys him. He's still the same boy he'd been all the years prior. She should know him by now.
The problem is, she seems to think she does, and that this is called for.
He needs to find a way to lobby for more acceptance, to make up for this somehow, or if this morning is any indication, he may not survive the year, and that's thanks to his housemates, and not some suicide mission the Dark Lord had seen fit to set him...
When Severus reaches the Entrance Hall, he spots a familiar slither of his Snakes headed towards him. Their number is slightly reduced since last he saw them, hardly surprising really. Their mad dash through the corridors earlier, to say nothing of some of the odd methods of conveyance, had suggested an urgency that went beyond simply being late for their breakfast.
"Rather late to the meal, aren't you?" The Potions Master asks his students. Experience shows the offensive approach is likely to keep them from thinking the same about him. Not that it matters if they do, of course, but given his druthers, he prefers not to be the topic of speculation.
That's going swimmingly for him so far this week.
"Sir?" Ella calls out in answer, bringing the group to a halt. "Madam Pomfrey asked me to tell you she has Theo, Gregory and Blaise in the Infirmary."
This, too, fails to surprise. "Is my presence required?" He asks, almost casually. Their Head is not without a temper, not by any means, but the man is notoriously difficult to fluster, and Merlin knows, some days it seems they do their utmost to try. Several of them are fiercely hoping he maintains his equanimity once he discovers just what they've been up to this morning.
"No, Sir. Madam Pomfrey seemed to have things under control."
"Should I ask what happened?" His eyebrow practically does that asking for him.
"Broken shampoo bottle, bare feet, worst result," Draco sticks with the version he'd told the Mediwitch, and no one feels inclined to risk correcting him. He may need to reconsider his story if they can't remove the sticky stuff from the lav on their own. He's unsure if the substance absorbs things only when it's applied to human flesh, or if there's a very real possibility it could be slowly dissolving the shower basins as they speak. He's banking on it being slow acting either way; he certainly hadn't noticed any traces of damage to the showers... Well, besides the tiles he'd Reductoed anyway. Ah, and the curtains he'd Diffindoed... Hmm. Although maybe the floors were also Imperviused... And perhaps with a Reparo... He has a little time to consider things before he'll need to act, and he may wish to speak to Severus privately about this, but that's something he definitely needs to give some thought to. It's most assuredly nothing that should be done in the spur of the moment. No, this requires proper handling and that requires careful deliberation.
Well that's what Transfiguration class is for...
"So it would seem if three of you required more than cursory attention," Severus drawls.
"There were rumours of Slytherins flying through the castle," he informs them; if there aren't yet, he's sure there soon will be. To a witch and a wizard they silently curse the portraits and their luck, unaware of the Perception Charms that rendered the painting network superfluous in this case. "Apparently by broom," he gives Crabbe the sort of look that has the boy squirming, too easy really, and Vince's Reducioed Nimbus 2001 suddenly feels like it's burning a hole in his pocket, "and more esoterically in balloon form, of all things.
"Anything you'd care to tell me?" He baits them once more.
The group goes unusually still. He could swear he can hear Chizpurfles in the distance. He'd thought as much.
"Well then perhaps we should see about the meal, shall we?" Turning his back on them, he ends the conversation, not that they had seemed particularly eager to continue it...
He opens the doors to the Great Hall and sweeps in, possibly a mite dramatically, but then it comes naturally and the effect is only enhanced with such a large retinue in tow. It isn't as though he'd arranged for it.
Minerva has been waiting... eagerly for Severus to finally make an appearance, she has a bone to pick with him. There's an exceptionally biting "How good of you to join us," hovering on her lips by way of greeting. The sight of her colleague entering with so many of his students, however, this late in the hour, causes the words to die on her tongue. Clearly something had gone very wrong with the Snakes.
Once again.
For a moment, she almost feels sorry for the man. The children are obviously having difficulty coming to terms with his bonding a Muggle-born Gryffindor student - really she isn't even sure which of Miss... Madam Snape's characteristics poses the greater affront to his House - and he's having to deal with that on top of the situation itself. Evidently it hasn't been easy.
And yet...
There's a bit of utterly unforgivable insolence in her pocket simply itching to be addressed, and she means to take him to task for it.
NOTE TO SELF: CROSSPOST FAIL. Published on LJ and imported to DW.
Severus, Hermione, Staff: Minerva McGonagall, Poppy Pomfrey, Nurse Wanda Wainscott, Slytherins: Draco Malfoy, Theo Nott, Blaise Zabini, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Daphne Greengrass, Torsten Touchstone, Ella Wilkins, Astoria Greengrass, Tomasina Touchstone, Gryffindors: Ron Weasley, Lavender Brown, Fay Dunbar, Hufflepuffs: Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Others: Crookshanks, Polly the Infirmary house elf
Mentioned briefly: Slytherins: Harper Hutchinson, Róisín Rosier, Ravenclaws: Edgar Martins, Hufflepuffs: Megan Jones, Others: The Bloody Baron, Sunny the house elf, Slinky the chief Slytherin house elf
The Slytherins bring their seventh year boys to the Infirmary, naturally they aren't the only ones there. Severus and Crooks attend to pressing matters in chambers, while Hermione tries to figure out what she did wrong.
Originally Published: 2020-07-05 on LJ / DW
Chapter: 124 part 2
The original version of this chapter exceeded livejournal's maximum post length. It's been split in two parts.
THIS CHAPTER IS A TWO-PARTER.
**SCROLL DOWN AND READ THE OTHER PART FIRST** (124a LJ / DW)
ALSO, THE LAST CHAPTER WAS A TWO-PARTER. DID YOU READ BOTH PARTS? (123a LJ / DW and 123b LJ / DW)
Mr. Crabbe is quickly Mobilicorpused onto one of the Infirmary beds, and Wanda has begun to remove the bandages from his feet. Mr. Zabini stands there holding the boy's broom looking rather like he isn't certain how he'd been manoeuvred into that position. When he begins to object, Wanda assures him they'll be with him shortly and proceeds to ignore him. But it shouldn't take long at all to see to Mr. Crabbe and have him on his way. The boy seems gratified to hear it, or at least he does so right up until her attempts to apply Dittany to his wounds aren't met with much success, and she says as much to Poppy. A little sheepishly, one of the Slytherin girls speaks up.
Ella admits to having applied the Styptic Flick to Vince's feet. She now firmly hopes that's the issue, as admitting she'd used the Capsaicin on him was only likely to cause a great deal of trouble she'd rather avoid. She'd been relying on the improbability of it to help her avoid detection; that had seemed terribly clever at the time. In retrospect, she's having some difficulty justifying her actions to herself, the idea of trying to do so to the disapproving Nurse... But any niggling doubts she'd had on that front are immediately dispelled when Nurse Wainscott begins to give her grief for the decision to apply the Antihaemorrhagic Charm. Despite her relief the problem hadn't been caused by the Concoction, Ella still goes very quiet at the rebuke.
"Well we can't heal the cuts any better than that now," Wanda announces with a hint of scorn. It might have been lost on some, but there are ten Slytherins present at the moment. "It will simply have to take longer for them to close properly." Vince doesn't look pleased as those cuts had made walking all but impossible, and he highly doubts they'll send him off to class on his Nimbus... "The Pain Relief should carry you until then, however." That, on the other hand, sounds promising. Once the Nurse has re-bandaged his feet, he tries standing experimentally and is pleased to discover he can. He quickly retakes his seat and demands his socks and shoes from Draco, who is happy to oblige, his books following soon after.
All too quickly Vince encounters the next problem, it's nearly impossible to put his shoes on one handed. Fortunately he hadn't used his wand hand while showering - somehow he hadn't quite trusted Blaise to do an adequate job searching for hexes - and he's able to magic his shoes on with a Convesto, precision no longer being a concern. He's about to complain about the inability to use his left hand, the Nurse hadn't seen to it at all, but she's moved on to Gregory at the Matron's insistence and he finds himself at the back of the queue.
Blaise smirks to see him realise it as Vince retrieves his broom, Reducioing and pocketing it, but once they've watched the witch try to treat Gregory for the same issue, they'll both agree Vince is best off keeping schtum about the sticky goo. Merlin's beard. But the Infirmary staff will have to solve the problem for Gregory soon enough anyway, it's possible Vince can capitalise on that and spare himself some of the experimentation in the process.
Ron's previously pissy mood is now rather more so, brill, his litany of grievances seems sheer unending, and Lav can't help thinking no good deed goes unpunished. A little desperate to take his mind off the Slytherins, who only seem to call their Head of House to mind, and who in turn reminds her ex of Hermione (even more brilliantly), Lav makes a last ditch effort to try to distract him.
"You've really been so frightfully brave about your arm, Ron. How were you injured?"
Honestly, she's half surprised when that works, but shouldn't be; besides 'Mione's deception, he's one of his favourite subjects. Ron launches into a colourful description of his evening searching through spider-filled broom closets for some old portrait, recounts the story of the even more spider-filled bucket that landed on his head, wouldn't you know it, and then - to hear him tell it - the positively horrifying tumble down a flight of stairs that had done whatever it was to his arm. (He's still rather fuzzy about the medical details, much to Madam Pomfrey's irritation as she's explained it no less than three times. Spiral. Fracture.)
But as Ron's luck would have it, Malfoy's ears prick up almost magically at that last bit.
"Quit your whinging Weasel. I fell seven stories," as the ginger rat should well know, "and put up half the fuss." Fine, that was mostly because he'd been unconscious much of the time, but Draco hardly needs to admit that. Least of all to one of the tosspots he is certain was responsible for his fall. The Weasel and Rotter have much to answer for.
Now even more annoyed, it seems the way his morning is destined to go, Ron throws up a Muffliato against that side of the room, although a smaller one might have been wiser, and begins griping about the Slytherins, too. Draco thinks the appropriate thoughts about that buzzy bit of rubbish magic, Moggies, and shifts his attention back to the Matron. The Weasel isn't worth his energy.
Lav no longer seems interested in carrying the conversation, just no staying power to that witch, and so Fay feels pressed to attempt to cheer Ron up a bit. The way this is going, she could have just stayed at breakfast to listen to everyone continue to bicker, and fleetingly almost wishes she had. But for someone who thought she'd had enough of the complaining on the pitch, Fay certainly seems to like to instigate. Potentially it makes a real difference whom they're complaining about. She very much doesn’t have the same issues with listening to Ron go on about Hermione that Lav does. That whole cheating affair? Left Fay cold. She really hadn't cared if he was seeing one witch or the other. And an opportunity to complain about her ex-roommate? With one of the swot's best friends no less? It's not alienating in the least; it's a shared disgruntlement.
With the sort of unerring precision her Chasing still lacks, but then that's what practice is for, she proceeds to stir the pot. To distract Ron from the presumptive evils of the Snakes, she now tells him about their encounter with Hermione in front of the Great Hall a little bit ago, and just what the witch had claimed about spending time with her bondmate. All weekend and every night since...
One scarcely needs the skills of a Seer of Professor Trelawney's calibre to predict what comes next.
Sure, it might have helped had she related it more softly, but then Ron repeats the claims at volume so often and in such variation that even were the small group of Hufflepuffs still visiting with Justin nearly stone deaf, the vibrations alone would have carried the message. Loud and clear.
Lav's had enough. With some resignation she recognises there will be absolutely no getting Ron back on track, and really, she'd wanted to see about trying to find some material on the Beauty Charm that had been used on Crabbe's hair. Now that she's had the chance to see him for herself, she's even more interested in learning it. The Hair Colouration Charm was everything people had been saying and then some. Scalp deep, no sign of roots, a very thorough job on the colouring, his hair appeared truly lush and healthy, without a trace of irritation... The colour was beyond the pale, obviously. Bundimun green? Completely out of the question. Who came up with that? But yes, this had promise. The results seemed good, very good indeed. Perhaps the Charm was available with a modifier... That's if Rosier isn't hogging all the books again...
She makes the appropriate parting noises to Ron and Fay - Ron's basically fine, so it isn't even like this had been a sick bed visit, really - and Fay decides she'll stay and keep Ron company until they both have to go to Transfiguration. It's not like she had any business in the library today anyhow.
With a final, "See you both later then," Lav rises and leaves without a backwards glance. She really needs to get to the library before the Slytherin sixth year snags all the texts.
It's for the best. Had she stayed, she would have been very uncomfortable.
It isn't long before Susan Bones' curiosity gets the best of her, and already perfectly scandalised by the fact Hermione has been associating with the Bloody Baron - whatever for? - she's eager to get all the latest goss. For her part, working off of the stories Lav had spun about why Hermione had been missing last Saturday night, Fay begins to energetically recount some of the more creative variants that in light of the bonding and Hermione's subsequent confession suddenly seem a great deal less improbable. Rather predictably, things spin a little out of control.
Equally predictably, by lunch the tale is all over the school.
Between them, the girls arrive at the now so obvious conclusion that Hermione and Snape had been caught in flagrante delicto, whereupon they were forced to bond to avoid censure. By whom is left open to speculation, not being nearly as interesting as the rest, and neither feels the need to explain why others had gotten bonded as well. Perhaps the Headmaster had been trying something new? No one claims to understand the man. Or maybe it had to do with whatever had caused Megan Jones to leave school, Susan suggests. That conclusion might just have some merit. Ron's anger battles with his incredulity, winning out in the end. Any impulse he may have felt to mention the attack on Hermione is stayed by that more than his Oath not to speak of it, although truthfully germinating seeds of guilt - deeply repressed, to be sure - largely keep him from even thinking of it.
But fundamentally, on some level Ron's still having trouble believing it. 'Mione? With Snape? Of their own volition? Wild Thestrals. He thinks the absolute worst of Snape, truly, and he still can't imagine it. Snape hates them all. But then 'Mione had definitely bonded the git and never said so much as a word to him or Harry. Not even after the fact. He wouldn't have thought that possible either. Never in a million years. And then there's the fact the others who'd gotten bonded were clearly couples...
Not the least offended by his disbelief, surely a little scepticism is sensible, Fay's quick to take an Oath to prove Hermione had indeed confessed to the assignations. It's difficult to argue with that. Well, unless one were to ask if Hermione had been telling the truth, that is, or if her claims had led Fay to have anything like an accurate picture of what had actually taken place, but that escapes the brain trust presently trying to piece events together in the Infirmary.
Hannah's initially a little slower to warm to the story, but between her and Fay, it will make the rounds of the Transfiguration class. Ron's sullen demeanour and antagonistic attitude towards the witch at the heart of the matter will be deemed confirmation enough. After Hermione's inaction yesterday when Justin got hexed, he is presently all too capable of believing the very worst (with both of his heads had it been a true Transfiguration), and he'll be mentioning it when some of the others from his House stop by to visit with him later. He has a reputation of knowing what's what that he's eager to maintain, and a protracted stay in the Infirmary can be a mixed blessing along those lines. Susan, naturally, will be only too eager to tell her classmates in Ghoul Studies what she's learnt. She's simply sociable that way.
Of course none of this is doing a thing for Ron's mood. By the time he, Fay and Hannah make it to Transfiguration, his blood is practically at a boil.
Polly the Infirmary house elf reappears with a fresh shirt in hand. She'd had to locate Slinky to retrieve it for her, having no access herself to the Slytherin dungeons, and he hadn't been altogether easy to find. She'd needed to resort to using a portrait to fetch him. She's proud of both her tenacity and resourcefulness, but no one ever seems to question how elves get things done. It's frightfully discouraging sometimes.
A little timidly she hands the garment to the blond; he takes it from her without a second thought and begins to change, providing both Tori and Tomasina with an eyeful. Once he's removed his soiled shirt, he passes it to the little elf. "See what you can do about the blood," he orders. He's in luck, she might just be able to put it back to rights. Blood is tricky for a variety of reasons - obvious to anyone who has taken even the most cursory sniff of the Dark Arts - and generally only the more gifted and practised witches and wizards are able to Banish it with ease. As the elf assigned to the Infirmary, Polly has rather a lot of experience with removing bloodstains, not that anyone is likely to appreciate that fact either. With a loud 'pop' of frustration, she disappears to the laundry and sets to removing the stains. With her luck, she can't help thinking Slinky will take all the credit for it too. (And that only shows how little she understands humans, as Draco is no more likely to pay Slinky any attention than he had Polly. If it isn't one of his family's elves, he takes virtually no note of the creatures at all.)
Poppy feels better almost immediately once the boy has removed his blood soaked togs. The feeling is short lived, gone as soon as she examines Mr. Nott's foot with her own two eyes. Having the injury show up on her scan is still very different to actually looking at the mutilated appendage. "Goodness, Mr. Nott, whatever have you been up to," she sighs. It's purely rhetorical as she knows better than to trust most of the answers the students give her.
Draco hurries to reply, "One of the shampoo bottles broke. They were showering, barefoot obviously, and cut themselves on the shards."
"Those must have been some shards," she replies wryly, not believing a word of it. She examines the appendages the boy brought, and is pleased to find them still viable. That will simplify matters greatly, as a reattachment is much faster than regrowing them would be, she explains as she goes about her work. In fact, one toe had lost too much tissue to have even been a candidate for regrowth in the first place, so yes, this is quite lucky indeed. Daph seems a little queasy just from the idea, Theo appears only marginally better, but then at least it's his body the Matron is discussing. Poppy cleans the wounds and performs the Charms, with the Pain Relief in the boy's system, it doesn't hurt in the least.
Perhaps she should have mentioned that in advance.
"You'll need to stay put for several hours for it to properly take, Mr. Nott, and it will be some weeks before it's quite right, I'm afraid. But other than that, you should have no lasting problems with that foot of yours." If possible, Daphne looks more relieved than Theo, so much so she may have cooed. Draco can't help rolling his eyes - the fool Weasel is lying right there, after all, and they have an image to maintain - but Tori just smiles at her sister. She understands. She'd have felt much the same way had something like that happened to Tomasina, say, not that she'd have probably cooed, but then that was Daph for you.
The Pain Relief has begun to work its magic on Theo, and when the Matron tells him how lucky he is his friends had acted so quickly and cleverly in getting him - and his toes - to her in such a timely fashion, he's able to reply sounding almost like himself again, "Thank you, Madam Pomfrey. Yes, I know. We were very fortunate to have them help us." Daph gives him a funny look, coming to the conclusion that residual physical discomfort isn't the reason that sounds a little off. At a guess, Theo is thinking about the probable reason for the morning's misadventures, and now she is too.
Wanda is staring at the black streaks on Mr. Goyle's face and hair, but then they're difficult to overlook, much like the Snitch for some reason flapping away enthusiastically on his chest. Daph had done such a cracking job of repairing his clothes that the patches on his body aren't visible, but shy of a Notice-Me-Nott or Disillusionment, there was no way his blackened head wouldn't stand out like a sore thumb. What's particularly curious is the matter hadn't appeared on the Nurse's scan. That makes sense, in as much as it isn't a condition or some manner of magical malady. In both the physical and magical senses, it hasn't actually affected him, the Wheeze is merely stuck to the boy - or vice versa - and no longer exhibiting all too much magic either. The problem is closely related to one of the reasons Argus has had such difficulty identifying potions when searching for contraband.
"What's this then?" She finally asks, gesturing towards the stuff she simply can't place, and the boy tries to explain. With the Pain Relieving Potion in his system, he no longer has any issue being his usual gregarious self, but Gregory also has precious few answers he could offer. As far as he knows, this was as likely to be a Hex as a Wheeze. Wanda seems unsatisfied by his explanations. "And why are your hands encased in Bubblehead Charms?" Again come the attempts at explanations as she Finites the Charm, and she's even more puzzled to discover pieces of tile attached to one hand. Students get up to the oddest things.
"Anyhow, the stuff is frightfully sticky," he concludes. "Tori had the idea for the Bubblehead. Thought it would be safer." Tori smiles at him before recalling she probably shouldn't, rightfully taking it as praise. The Nurse, however, seems less convinced by her precautions. Presumably the fact Wanda's scans hadn't identified the Wheeze as a problem have her grossly underestimating the substance.
The Nurse summarily Summons a flannel, and before anyone can stop her, tries to wipe the viscous black matter from one of his hands.
"No!" Blaise, Vince, Gregory and Tori all cry as one. Gregory flails in an attempt to free himself from her grasp, but it's too late, the damage is done.
"Merlin's bloody beard," Vince grumbles, now positive the woman is a menace, and dead certain he won't be showing her his hand or shoulder. Brilliantly managed. Truly. The bint hadn't listened to a single word Gregory had said. Worse than useless at that rate.
Wanda discovers the reason for their objections - a trifle belatedly - when the flannel fails to budge from the spot. She tries to push and then to tug it free, Gregory finally complaining when it pulls too hard on his skin. She adjusts her grip and means to try again and Blaise yells for her to stop. Tori chimes in, with effort mustering the patience to try to explain the situation - once more - to the evidently wilfully thick woman. "If you don't wish to find yourself stuck to him, you can't afford to touch that stuff. Don't allow any of it to come in contact with you, or anything else for that matter." That seems overly dramatic, and Wanda appears doubtful. That doubt dissipates, however, when she sees her cloth disappear before her eyes, somehow absorbed by the sticky mass which now seems even larger.
And quite possibly blacker and shinier, too...
"What is that stuff?" She asks again, incredulously; unsurprisingly they have no better answers for her than the last time she posed the question. "Well try not to touch anything," she instructs the boy, and the Snakes have great difficulty not rolling their eyes collectively at that. Gregory had done his level best not to after all, and she'd effectively thwarted him.
Gregory sits there with his arms bent, hands held upwards and away from his body. Frankly he thinks he was better off before, but he can't perform the Bubblehead Charms without a wand, and doesn't quite trust the Nurse enough to ask her for assistance at this point. He's weighing asking Draco to cast them again. Or maybe Tori would help. She'd understood why they were necessary after all...
Spurred to action by the sight of the dissolving flannel, and despairing of making the Nurse see sense, Blaise takes advantage of the improved access the position provides to use a Diffindo to slice the Snitch from Gregory's chest. Its wings stop flapping immediately, and it drops like a stone. Even with only one hand available, Blaise is exceedingly quick to catch, shrink and pocket it; there are excellent reasons he's their Keeper. They can always stick the sad thing back on the entryway ceiling, although from the look of it, the boys suspect it will be inert from this time forward. Couldn't be helped, and there are enough other Snitches that it shouldn't go noticed.
The group watches with some discomfort as the scant remains of the Snitch the Diffindo had left on the Beater's chest disappear behind one of the Glamours Daphne had cast, the implication clear: they too have been absorbed. If anything, it only frustrates them further. It was fortunate Blaise had been able to cut things so closely and hadn’t fed the gunk more.
Wanda couldn't say she appreciates the way that young man had inserted himself into her patient’s treatment, and she likes the disdainful looks the students are giving her even less. She decides it's time to move them along. "You lot should get going to breakfast," she tells them, "or you won't have any at all." Somehow after the morning they've had, for most that doesn't seem like such a dire threat anymore, and Gregory is quietly certain Infirmary staff would eventually offer him a nice nutrient shake if nothing else. He'd had those for three months straight back when he first started his body building programme. To be honest, he rather misses them. And besides, he isn't altogether sure he's free to go anyhow...
The group looks at one another, but no one seems inclined to leave. Tor might have, they'd got the boys safely to the Infirmary, and he'd planned to begin with their potion purchasing scheme this morning, but Ella is standing there with her arms stubbornly crossed, and he'd bet she won't leave until she knows the seventh years are sorted. That makes up his mind for him. One by one they shake their heads, and Draco still feels charged to answer for the group, "We'll wait."
Poppy turns to the last of their patients, "Mr. Zabini, take a bed would you. I'm afraid you'll be joining Mr. Nott here today."
Blaise is surprised to hear it, especially as he could swear the witch hadn't even laid a hand or wand on him yet, but the Matron performs a Charm and the bed Vince had just vacated is cleaned and made - the silent invitation more than clear - and he takes a seat in the space next to Theo's without argument. Blaise had rather expected this was the matter of a Charm, perhaps another potion at worst, and bob's your uncle. Slowly he's beginning to become concerned.
Theo tries to give him an encouraging smile.
It fails to help.
Resigned to the way this is turning out, Draco begins to retrieve their things from his pockets and deposits them on their bedside tables, Engorgioing them for their convenience. His apologetic look as he does so doesn't do much to console Blaise either.
Disappointed with the students' continued presence, Wanda decides to move on to Mr. Goyle's foot. The course of action there was more obvious than with the unknown material on his head and hands. Or at least she thinks so. When she unwraps the bandages, she's surprised to see his wound has grown mostly closed.
"And what charms did you use here?" She asks the group accusingly, somewhat exasperated and meaning to avoid another hiccough as with the Dittany.
Ella still doesn't seem inclined to speak up, so Daphne answers for her. "Harper suggested the Muscle Mending Salve." She's not trying to land him it, not by any means. She thought that had been frightfully ingenious of him, and means to see he gets the credit for his idea.
The Nurse seems unconvinced - of course she does - and now Tomasina feels the need to defend their decision, "The tissue growth is a side effect. Gregory's wound was so large..."
"Amateurs," Nurse Wainscott scoffs softly, shaking her head. "Poppy, you should come and see this..." Wanda calls to her colleague. Her disapproving tone gets more than a few of the Slytherins' backs up. They'd faced a serious problem, a dangerous problem, and mastered it fairly well as far as they're concerned - and that without anyone else's assistance - and here the Nurse stands there condemning their efforts.
It doesn't go over well.
The Mediwitch had caught part of the exchange, and with Mr. Nott managed and Mr. Zabini anything but urgent had rather wanted to see for herself what they'd done. The invitation for a shufti suits her fine. "Muscle Mender?" She repeats as she examines the wound, silently impressed. "Clever," she finally passes judgment. "Risky though," she adds.
"How so?" Tomasina had given the idea her all clear. If there's something to be wary of here, she wants to know it.
"There's always the risk of uncontrollable growth. The Salve is hardly targeted. Or targetable for that matter." She isn't trying to suggest they'd applied it improperly, only that the solution wasn't without hazards of its own.
Ella finally speaks up, "I only used a very little on it, and it seemed to be just the tissues involved in the injury." The admission is a touch grudging.
"I said it was clever," Poppy assures her, judging the girl's reluctance as stemming from being put out at their lack of recognition. "Merely not without risk. You were lucky here."
Ella and Tomasina can't help thinking it was more than luck, but they're used to not getting much credit from the rest of the staff besides their Head. There's a nearly identical placid indifference to the set of their expressions that almost makes Poppy laugh. Severus had spent most of his childhood with the very same look. She knows better than to think the girls are satisfied and decides to throw them a bone. "But you've greatly accelerated the healing, and I imagine he'll be out of here before very long." They visibly relax - at least slightly - to hear it.
"Alright, ladies and gentlemen." The Matron claps her hands for their attention. "We'll be keeping Misters Goyle, Nott and Zabini. There's nothing more for the rest of you to do here. If you hurry, you might still get a quick bite to eat before classes begin." The Snakes recognise a dismissal when issued, not, mind, that the woman offers to write them a note in case anyone should take issue with their hurrying, as a couple don't fail to notice.
None are overly surprised.
But that reminds Daphne of the healer's Note Writing Charm Hermione had told their Transfiguration class about Tuesday morning, and for the briefest of moments, she considers staying to ask the Mediwitch about it, but somehow the Matron's manner doesn't seem to encourage questions. And of course she still has patients to see to obviously... Somewhat regretfully nonetheless, Daph shelves the idea for a later day.
Draco places Gregory's things on his night table and Engorgios them; from the look of things, Gregory won't be in any shape any time soon to do that for himself. The Prefect and Vince are the only ones to say goodbye to others, yet another sign of just how bad the seventh years are presently received, although Daph can't quite resist a small wave at Theo. The fact it isn't a great deal more expressive is ample proof that she hadn't stopped considering why all of this had happened to the boys for anyone likely to contemplate her reaction. Typically enough, no one but Theo does.
"Miss Wilkins?" Poppy stops them at the doors. The sixth year Prefect turns to face her. "Kindly instruct Professor Snape there's been an... influx of his students in the Infirmary, and we presently have three of his in our care." She takes another look at the boys and adds, "Some detail might be advised."
"Will he need to see to them himself?" Ella asks, her features schooled into an almost neutral mask.
"I believe we're capable of muddling through without his assistance," the Matron answers, not without a trace of humour, missing the point that the Slytherins are all too used to not being able to count on help from other quarters. "I simply wanted him apprised of the situation." Particularly as she had told him not very long ago that there were no Slytherins in her ward... Things can change ever so quickly in the castle.
Ella nods, already trying to decide what it might be best not to mention. Draco's having similar thoughts. At the least, he'd like the chance to try to set their lav to rights before Severus has an opportunity to survey the damage.
When the doors shut behind them, Tor asks the others if they'll have to run to make breakfast. Politely no one comments on why he hadn't simply cast a Tempus, although Vince had been tempted. This entire affair may yet teach him some manners.
Then again...
Draco's Tempus establishes they needn't run, which is just as well. Anyone in authority spotting them was more than likely to take stupid amounts of points from them, especially as he, Ella, and Tomasina are Prefects. But in unspoken agreement, the seven Slytherins set off at a very stiff pace.
With a bit of luck, they may not have to settle on pasties, although anything remotely resembling the full English Vince would prefer is clearly out of the question.
Things are awkward amongst the group, and they scuttle along in silence, their positions in the pecking order rather hopelessly confused since the Serpents had announced the seventh years' guilt to the House Tuesday afternoon. As long as they'd had something they needed to accomplish together, it hadn't seemed to matter. Much. Now... Not knowing one's place apparently makes informal interactions unexpectedly... difficult for the Slytherins.
At a guess, Draco would wager he and Vince are the least popular of their group, assuming - correctly - the others considered them the most to blame for Severus' bonding. They weren't wrong there either. And so the rest walk some distance apart from Vince and himself, and the atmosphere is decidedly frosty. Feeling an awful lot like a window of opportunity is closing, perhaps irrevocably, Draco decides at a minimum he should make an effort to capitalise on the others' willingness to help them. At the least he needs to try to make peace with them before they reach the Great Hall and peer pressure renders that all but impossible.
Realistically, it will probably be all he can hope for if he were to reach only a single one of them.
His target is determined as the intersection of feasibility and potential influence. He might be able to win over Daphne - although some of the looks she's thrown Theo have him wondering if perhaps she's begun to suspect what was at the root of all of this, in which case all bets are off - but he assumes Daphne isn't likely to convince many others to change their minds about the boys. Her sphere of influence is more... limited. (As usual, he underestimates her somewhat.) Ella on the other hand... People listen to the Prefect, and she's kind-hearted. She has to be or she'd have never gone out with Vince when he asked. Potentially Draco can work with that.
Ella had been unusually taciturn since the Nurse's reproach earlier. Thinking he knows the reason for it, Draco draws abreast of the sixth year and confidently tells her, "You did excellent work this morning, Ella. I wanted to thank you for that. We owe you a lot." For one thing it was true and the right thing to do - and for once he was able to, which is a rare enough occurrence - and for another, they need every ally they can get. His compliment would carry more weight if she were less aware of that fact.
Her lips tight, she nods. They do owe them a lot, and here the House had decided the boys didn't deserve their help either. It's certainly something to chew on. But ultimately she appreciates the acknowledgment and softens minutely. She'd done her best, and it had hurt to have Nurse Wainscott denigrate her efforts like that.
"Then do me a favour, if you would?" She asks after a while. "Don't tell anyone I, um, vomited at the sight of Theo's injuries." Her shoulders are pulled back and her head is held high, but he can still see the embarrassment playing around her eyes.
As potential requests go, he hadn't anticipated this one. A little confused, he replies with a shrug, "You're only human."
"Yes, well, I had hopes of maybe some day studying to become a healer. Rumours of squeamishness might scotch that."
"There's no shame in it," he attempts to reassure her again. "He's a friend, a housemate you've lived with for over five years now, of course that's going to affect you."
"And yet you didn't sick up all over the place, and Theo's one of your closest mates..."
Draco pales slightly, a feat she wouldn't have considered possible given his natural pallor, especially today, and quietly replies, "I've seen worse. I've... had some practice."
That's not something she wants to consider, not at all. It calls too many highly problematic things to mind - her mother has warned her about this - and of course the seventh years are still very much on the outs. With only a last nod, she leaves things at that, speeding up enough to join the others. And then as Draco watches, Tor swoops in between them like some sort of Protego personified, as though it were necessary, although doubtless also angling to escort her to breakfast. He can be efficient that way.
Silently, Draco mulls over her request as they go. Blaise and Vince hadn't observed Ella's reaction in the lav, Gregory had definitely had his own issues, and Theo didn't seem to be noticing much of anything at the time. That she doesn't seem to think she has to worry about Harper, Daphne, Tori or Tomasina but that she explicitly needs to say something to him is just another one of those changes since Draco took the Mark. In addition to everything else - and there's certainly plenty of 'else' - that annoys him. He's still the same boy he'd been all the years prior. She should know him by now.
The problem is, she seems to think she does, and that this is called for.
He needs to find a way to lobby for more acceptance, to make up for this somehow, or if this morning is any indication, he may not survive the year, and that's thanks to his housemates, and not some suicide mission the Dark Lord had seen fit to set him...
When Severus reaches the Entrance Hall, he spots a familiar slither of his Snakes headed towards him. Their number is slightly reduced since last he saw them, hardly surprising really. Their mad dash through the corridors earlier, to say nothing of some of the odd methods of conveyance, had suggested an urgency that went beyond simply being late for their breakfast.
"Rather late to the meal, aren't you?" The Potions Master asks his students. Experience shows the offensive approach is likely to keep them from thinking the same about him. Not that it matters if they do, of course, but given his druthers, he prefers not to be the topic of speculation.
That's going swimmingly for him so far this week.
"Sir?" Ella calls out in answer, bringing the group to a halt. "Madam Pomfrey asked me to tell you she has Theo, Gregory and Blaise in the Infirmary."
This, too, fails to surprise. "Is my presence required?" He asks, almost casually. Their Head is not without a temper, not by any means, but the man is notoriously difficult to fluster, and Merlin knows, some days it seems they do their utmost to try. Several of them are fiercely hoping he maintains his equanimity once he discovers just what they've been up to this morning.
"No, Sir. Madam Pomfrey seemed to have things under control."
"Should I ask what happened?" His eyebrow practically does that asking for him.
"Broken shampoo bottle, bare feet, worst result," Draco sticks with the version he'd told the Mediwitch, and no one feels inclined to risk correcting him. He may need to reconsider his story if they can't remove the sticky stuff from the lav on their own. He's unsure if the substance absorbs things only when it's applied to human flesh, or if there's a very real possibility it could be slowly dissolving the shower basins as they speak. He's banking on it being slow acting either way; he certainly hadn't noticed any traces of damage to the showers... Well, besides the tiles he'd Reductoed anyway. Ah, and the curtains he'd Diffindoed... Hmm. Although maybe the floors were also Imperviused... And perhaps with a Reparo... He has a little time to consider things before he'll need to act, and he may wish to speak to Severus privately about this, but that's something he definitely needs to give some thought to. It's most assuredly nothing that should be done in the spur of the moment. No, this requires proper handling and that requires careful deliberation.
Well that's what Transfiguration class is for...
"So it would seem if three of you required more than cursory attention," Severus drawls.
"There were rumours of Slytherins flying through the castle," he informs them; if there aren't yet, he's sure there soon will be. To a witch and a wizard they silently curse the portraits and their luck, unaware of the Perception Charms that rendered the painting network superfluous in this case. "Apparently by broom," he gives Crabbe the sort of look that has the boy squirming, too easy really, and Vince's Reducioed Nimbus 2001 suddenly feels like it's burning a hole in his pocket, "and more esoterically in balloon form, of all things.
"Anything you'd care to tell me?" He baits them once more.
The group goes unusually still. He could swear he can hear Chizpurfles in the distance. He'd thought as much.
"Well then perhaps we should see about the meal, shall we?" Turning his back on them, he ends the conversation, not that they had seemed particularly eager to continue it...
He opens the doors to the Great Hall and sweeps in, possibly a mite dramatically, but then it comes naturally and the effect is only enhanced with such a large retinue in tow. It isn't as though he'd arranged for it.
Minerva has been waiting... eagerly for Severus to finally make an appearance, she has a bone to pick with him. There's an exceptionally biting "How good of you to join us," hovering on her lips by way of greeting. The sight of her colleague entering with so many of his students, however, this late in the hour, causes the words to die on her tongue. Clearly something had gone very wrong with the Snakes.
Once again.
For a moment, she almost feels sorry for the man. The children are obviously having difficulty coming to terms with his bonding a Muggle-born Gryffindor student - really she isn't even sure which of Miss... Madam Snape's characteristics poses the greater affront to his House - and he's having to deal with that on top of the situation itself. Evidently it hasn't been easy.
And yet...
There's a bit of utterly unforgivable insolence in her pocket simply itching to be addressed, and she means to take him to task for it.
NOTE TO SELF: CROSSPOST FAIL. Published on LJ and imported to DW.