Helps the Medicine Go Down (Loud and Long and Clear Remix) [Harry Potter; Sirius, Lily, Severus]
Title: Helps the Medicine Go Down (Loud and Long and Clear Remix)
Author:
castaliae
Summary: "And hence, they find, their task is not a grind."
Rating: PG
Fandom: Harry Potter
Disclaimer: If you've heard of it, it belongs to someone else. Thanks.
Title, Author and URL of original story: Thanks to
aliaspiral for her piece Sky High which is lovingly corrupted here. No, I'm really not quite sure where this came from.
“Repeat after me. Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.”
“Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.”
“Faster Miss Bellatrix. And again.”
“Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.”
“Yes. Now, backwards, but mind your vowels Mr. Regulus.”
“Dociousaliexpilisticfragicalirupus.”
“No, the stress is on the docious and rupus, not in the middle. If you were to make such grievous mispronunciations during casting you might have your spell backfire upon you. Keep that in mind. Now, let us see if you haven’t improved from last week. Mr. Sirius you will start, as your attention last week showed something to be desired.”
Growing up, Lily Evans loved to read. Luckily her parents tended to the slightly more academic side and provided a full bookcase for the girls to entertain themselves with. Over the years, Lily came to claim the books as her own, for Petunia took a book. Some of the titles near the bottom were mildly childish, but she simply couldn’t part with them. Even when she’d moved on to Enid Blyton, P.T. Traver’s novels remained close to her heart. Mum had read it allowed on the nights when Daddy was due home late.
“See girls,” she would say, “Mr. Banks works at the bank, just like your Father.”
Then they go to the cinema for her birthday, and on the screen were all the familiar characters, and they dart about singing in color.
Petunia doesn’t like it. She says it was different from the book.
Perhaps she was right.
“This isn’t children’s literature. She just broke he fingers off! Harry shouldn’t be exposed to this.”
“You know, Lily, I doubt Harry, understands words enough to grasp the concept of a fictional nanny removing her fingers and giving them to young children to suck on.” Remus replied from the couch where he lounged as he read some horribly depressing file for the Order.
The problem with Remus is both that he’s read enough to be bother, and that, usually has a level head about him. Its just, well, she hadn’t remembered the story as well as she ought to.
She was about to continue her protest over age appropriate materials when Sirius and Peter bounded in from the cold. They’d been out on guard duty for the Order, and Sirius, given his fairly bouncy behavior, had spent the last four hours as a dog watching for Death Eaters in monochrome. The next moment the book flew off her lap and in his hands.
“Ah, a proper wizarding tale. No more of this Oz stuff.”
“What?”
He ran roughshod right over her question, commenting, “We had a nanny you know, Regulus, Meda, Cissa, Bella and I. We were all given tongue twisters to make sure that when it came time for us to be hexing one another, we might do it with the proper stress on each syllable.”
She offered her complaints, astounded that she might have forgotten such a thing as detachable fingers.
“I remember those,” Peter exclaimed, “Detachable Digit Sugars, D.D.S. for short. Honeydukes made them. They tasted like peppermint.”
“But fingers?”
“Yes,” Sirius answered. “They were brilliant!”
Sirius proceeded to explain their many uses, relating a story about the Minister of Magic’s wife, a dinner party and a naughty little boy, and by the point when James returned from work they were all in hysterics.
One didn’t spend seven years the primary target of a notorious group of pranksters without learning something. In fact, you might say that the following fourteen year as a double agent taught him less in comparison regarding sneaking about and getting revenge.
When he returned from a late night summoning only to find is stores of sucrotic fibers markedly decreased, he was very unamused.
Careful inspection of the floor revealed a shockingly orange piece of fair, identifying the perpetrators better than any other mark ever could. So, he set upon a multipart plan to extract his revenge.
Before the night was out Gryffindor was down 70 points, and Filch was up to dedicated assistants. But to leave it to that would be a dereliction of his duties as Head of Slytherin and no where near appropriate for those fools.
The wizarding world has always had always searched out new and interesting mind altering substances and as a Potions Master he knew them all, or at least a good number of the more interesting ones. A particular draught, which developed an underground following during the Edwardian era made its user euphoric, and, more obviously in this case, float.
First he brewed enough for two, which required a number of ingredients on the restricted list, not that it was a problem for him given his other extra-curricular brewing activities. Afterwards, he hinted at a fairly spectacular recipe to his sixth year N.E.W.T.S. class, along with a partial ingredient list.
The day, when his arm informed him of another last-minute appointment, he set out a fresh jar of male lady bug shells, quite useful in transfigurative potions such as the one he’d described, before departing. While the Dark Lord blathered on that night he couldn’t help but thinking how lovely potions where which that entered through epidermal contact.
And the next evening, by which time his work had reached their blood stream, he couldn’t help but smirk. The Weasely twins had to float next to the ceiling for a full day, taking their meals between fits of uncontrollable laughter, each of which caused their heads to hit the ceiling.
And they couldn’t get down.
It was good to see that Severus wasn’t as stressed as he had been recently, despite the calls from Tom. The world was dangerous, yes, but he’d found that a little levity helped one through the work.
“One’s life shouldn’t be all drudgery.”
He fed the birds though the price of their meal was significantly increased since his boyhood and thought of Fawkes, sitting in his office back at Hogwarts.
Turning to his companion he asked, “Don’t you agree, Mary?”
“To quote an old friend Albus: indubitably. Indubitably.”
Author:
castaliae
Summary: "And hence, they find, their task is not a grind."
Rating: PG
Fandom: Harry Potter
Disclaimer: If you've heard of it, it belongs to someone else. Thanks.
Title, Author and URL of original story: Thanks to
aliaspiral for her piece Sky High which is lovingly corrupted here. No, I'm really not quite sure where this came from.
“Repeat after me. Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.”
“Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.”
“Faster Miss Bellatrix. And again.”
“Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.”
“Yes. Now, backwards, but mind your vowels Mr. Regulus.”
“Dociousaliexpilisticfragicalirupus.”
“No, the stress is on the docious and rupus, not in the middle. If you were to make such grievous mispronunciations during casting you might have your spell backfire upon you. Keep that in mind. Now, let us see if you haven’t improved from last week. Mr. Sirius you will start, as your attention last week showed something to be desired.”
Growing up, Lily Evans loved to read. Luckily her parents tended to the slightly more academic side and provided a full bookcase for the girls to entertain themselves with. Over the years, Lily came to claim the books as her own, for Petunia took a book. Some of the titles near the bottom were mildly childish, but she simply couldn’t part with them. Even when she’d moved on to Enid Blyton, P.T. Traver’s novels remained close to her heart. Mum had read it allowed on the nights when Daddy was due home late.
“See girls,” she would say, “Mr. Banks works at the bank, just like your Father.”
Then they go to the cinema for her birthday, and on the screen were all the familiar characters, and they dart about singing in color.
Petunia doesn’t like it. She says it was different from the book.
Perhaps she was right.
“This isn’t children’s literature. She just broke he fingers off! Harry shouldn’t be exposed to this.”
“You know, Lily, I doubt Harry, understands words enough to grasp the concept of a fictional nanny removing her fingers and giving them to young children to suck on.” Remus replied from the couch where he lounged as he read some horribly depressing file for the Order.
The problem with Remus is both that he’s read enough to be bother, and that, usually has a level head about him. Its just, well, she hadn’t remembered the story as well as she ought to.
She was about to continue her protest over age appropriate materials when Sirius and Peter bounded in from the cold. They’d been out on guard duty for the Order, and Sirius, given his fairly bouncy behavior, had spent the last four hours as a dog watching for Death Eaters in monochrome. The next moment the book flew off her lap and in his hands.
“Ah, a proper wizarding tale. No more of this Oz stuff.”
“What?”
He ran roughshod right over her question, commenting, “We had a nanny you know, Regulus, Meda, Cissa, Bella and I. We were all given tongue twisters to make sure that when it came time for us to be hexing one another, we might do it with the proper stress on each syllable.”
She offered her complaints, astounded that she might have forgotten such a thing as detachable fingers.
“I remember those,” Peter exclaimed, “Detachable Digit Sugars, D.D.S. for short. Honeydukes made them. They tasted like peppermint.”
“But fingers?”
“Yes,” Sirius answered. “They were brilliant!”
Sirius proceeded to explain their many uses, relating a story about the Minister of Magic’s wife, a dinner party and a naughty little boy, and by the point when James returned from work they were all in hysterics.
One didn’t spend seven years the primary target of a notorious group of pranksters without learning something. In fact, you might say that the following fourteen year as a double agent taught him less in comparison regarding sneaking about and getting revenge.
When he returned from a late night summoning only to find is stores of sucrotic fibers markedly decreased, he was very unamused.
Careful inspection of the floor revealed a shockingly orange piece of fair, identifying the perpetrators better than any other mark ever could. So, he set upon a multipart plan to extract his revenge.
Before the night was out Gryffindor was down 70 points, and Filch was up to dedicated assistants. But to leave it to that would be a dereliction of his duties as Head of Slytherin and no where near appropriate for those fools.
The wizarding world has always had always searched out new and interesting mind altering substances and as a Potions Master he knew them all, or at least a good number of the more interesting ones. A particular draught, which developed an underground following during the Edwardian era made its user euphoric, and, more obviously in this case, float.
First he brewed enough for two, which required a number of ingredients on the restricted list, not that it was a problem for him given his other extra-curricular brewing activities. Afterwards, he hinted at a fairly spectacular recipe to his sixth year N.E.W.T.S. class, along with a partial ingredient list.
The day, when his arm informed him of another last-minute appointment, he set out a fresh jar of male lady bug shells, quite useful in transfigurative potions such as the one he’d described, before departing. While the Dark Lord blathered on that night he couldn’t help but thinking how lovely potions where which that entered through epidermal contact.
And the next evening, by which time his work had reached their blood stream, he couldn’t help but smirk. The Weasely twins had to float next to the ceiling for a full day, taking their meals between fits of uncontrollable laughter, each of which caused their heads to hit the ceiling.
And they couldn’t get down.
It was good to see that Severus wasn’t as stressed as he had been recently, despite the calls from Tom. The world was dangerous, yes, but he’d found that a little levity helped one through the work.
“One’s life shouldn’t be all drudgery.”
He fed the birds though the price of their meal was significantly increased since his boyhood and thought of Fawkes, sitting in his office back at Hogwarts.
Turning to his companion he asked, “Don’t you agree, Mary?”
“To quote an old friend Albus: indubitably. Indubitably.”