Fic: Hartley Rathaway and the Secret of the Rogues(1/?)
Title: Hartley Rathaway and the Secret of the Rogues(1/?)
Author: runenklinge
Rating: PG-13
Warning: I have no clue about the English Harry Potter terminology and personally stopped reading before the end, so please excuse anything in the fic wrong concerning the Harry Potter-Universe.
Summary: Rogues in Hogwarts. No, that's about it.
Notes: While this is situated at Hogwarts and around the time of the HP books, basically, there is no HP. No characters, no plot. Yes, I'm hand waving, but it's magic, I don't have to explain it.
Piper dragged himself to the Great Hall, slumped down at the Ravenclaw table and nearly drowned himself in a bowl of porridge.
“Morning, Piper,” Linda said and patted his shoulder sympathetically, “long night?”
“Why has no one invented a spell to see stars at day yet? Astronomy wouldn't have to be at night if they had.”
“Poor darling.”
“Yes, mock me now, but let's see how well you fare once you're my age.”
“Piper, you're one year ahead.”
“Trust me, the 6th year is when it's going to get rough.”
“Sure it is,” Linda said. She got up, took an apple and waved goodbye to her other friends, “next class is Divination, and I swear that the damn tower gets higher every week.” She left and Piper reluctantly sat upright.
God, he hated Tuesdays. Not only because they were awfully close to Mondays (and especially with Astronomy at night), but because they started with Potions. Not that Piper had anything against the subject per se - he was really good at it - but Snape on his own was bad enough, and when the class was coupled with Slytherin, it got worse and worse.
Snape's blatant favoritism bled through every sentence, and Piper's sense of justice wanted to rebel. He tried that once in his first year, and then never again. Luckily, Piper was good at Potions and Snape grew tired of trying to bully him very early on. That still left the Slytherins to deal with, and he hated Potions class for that.
Not only did they mock him because he ended up in Ravenclaw (a fact of which Piper was grateful for every day), while all his “friends”, the true purebloods had gone to Slytherin, as predicted and expected, they were arrogant, shallow, and often cruel in their ways. He loathed them. Piper remembered countless parties his parents, owners of the largest publishing empire in the whole magic world - had thrown or attended, where he was paraded around and introduced to the other sons and daughters of powerful empires and old pureblood families. At times like these, he wanted nothing more than a friend, but all he had gotten were future business partners. Back then, he never really fitted in. It became better as he began school. The hat called out name after name. The kids he knew all got sent to Slytherin, just as it was expected of him. But when Professor McGonagall came to “Rathaway, Hartley” and the hat was placed on his head (and promptly sank down to his chin) it wasted hardly a second before loudly exclaiming “Ravenclaw!”
Piper was relieved. His parents less so, but it only took them until Christmas to realize that this was still the better alternative to Gryffindor or, heaven forbid, Hufflepuff. Not that Hartley shared their opinion, but he loved Ravenclaw nonetheless. His fellow students were nice, intelligent and while still often arrogant, at least it was because of their intelligence or hard work, as opposed to his former “friends” who based their arrogance on being rich and pureblooded. And Professor Flitwick was finally an adult role model he could get behind: nice, smart and passionate about his subject and his students. It was him who got Piper interested in music; his first try at the choir had been a little disappointing, but the professor had encouraged him not to give up on something he loved. They found out that Piper was a genius at playing instruments. And when other students had Quidditch practice, went to Hogsmeade or did something to drive the janitor even more insane, Piper played music.
Like most Ravenclaws, Piper was intelligent, studied a lot and was absolutely hopeless at Herbology. Apparently this was sort of an ongoing joke between Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout. But, other than most of the Ravenclaws, Piper really hated Astronomy. He often wished that Charms was his best subject, but he excelled at potions without really trying. It just came to him very easily. That made his parents proud while it made him dislike it even more.
In class, he ignored the cutting remarks and barbs from the Slytherins and focused instead on not blowing up his cauldron. His partner Jared is quite content with their tradition of Piper doing the majority of work at potions, and Jared giving Piper tutoring sessions in Muggle Studies (which was another thing his parents absolutely couldn't comprehend. Why be interested in muggles at all, they asked. They even briefly making him choose between Hogsmeade or Muggle Studies until he pointed out that that would take away days where he could associate with his “friends”, and his parents relented pretty quickly after that.
Snape had just passed their table, told Jared to pretend to be actually involved in the project with a threat to take away house points and had actually said something nice about their potion. Well, it's wasn't nice, but it wasn't hurtful or insulting and Piper decided to take what he could get. Then someone frantically knocked on the door.
“Come in,” Snape said, already sounding annoyed.
The door opened and a boy came in, a Slytherin, judging from his appearance (although his tie was very askew and seemed singed on one side) and probably in 4th or 5th year. He seemed vaguely familiar, but Piper couldn't place him.
“Professor, I have been sent by Professor McGonagall, and-”
“What about?” Snape interrupted with a glare that said “come to the point already”. Piper had never met someone who had so many similar, but distinctive looks by which he could actually converse.
“There was an incident in her 7th year transfiguration class involving one of your students.”
Apparently Snape also had a look that translated into a face palm.
Someone back in the class whispered “Why would they send him then?” and was shushed.
“Let me guess. Mr Dillon and Mr Snart had a disagreement.”
“Which led to an explosion and Mr Snart crashing through the window in my Herbology project. And then Professor Mc Gonagall yelled, ahem, told me to go fetch you, sir.”
“I see,” the professor said and it sounded more like 'Fuck this all' than what he actually said, “Class, I'll be gone for a few minutes. Do not try do anything stupid during my absence.”
Then he left, black cloak trailing behind him. And he forgot to take his messenger with him.
“Dude, what the hell happened?” a Slytherin - Hunter Zolomon - asked.
“Yeah, JJ, what has Roscoe done this time?” Mark Mardon, a Ravenclaw asked. Piper didn't know much about him other than he was an ace in astronomy and a little troublemaker.
“It was awesome,” JJ responded, “I only saw the end, but it was spectacular. Len was yelling 'Hands away from my sister', Roscoe called him a 'cave-dwelling troglodyte' - I'm not sure what that is, but anyway - but there was an ice spell that frosted all the windows, then there was an explosion and Len sailed in a great big arc right into my valerian bush. Cursing all the way. It was genius! You should have been there!”
JJ beamed, and two things happened. Piper finally realized who he was - James Jesse, star chaser of the Slytherin Quidditch team - and he fell in love.
Piper extinguished the fire underneath his cauldron, piled his books next to him as a kind of barrier, and just stared. Stared at James Jesse, who had blond hair - Piper refused to call it golden, although it was, even in the dungeon down here - blue eyes, tan skin and an incredible smile. It seemed to light up the room, it was so dazzling. If Piper didn't know better, he swore that he was affected by a love potion. But since those were silly lies, he had to face the truth. He was falling love, falling fast and falling faster. James was just so animated, talking with his whole body, hands and face. James was sitting on a table in the middle, telling the story again, illustrating some points, sharing some background information on the two fighting students and their motive - a girl, of course, it was always a girl - and the whole room was laughing. Not just the Slytherins he knew, most of the Ravenclaws as well.
No one noticed the professor returning.
Snape announced his presence with a cold “Mr Jesse” that ran shivers down Piper's spine.
And then James did something that made Piper love him even more, he talked back, with sass and wit. “Welcome back, professor, I have been keeping an eye on the class while you were gone. No pranks, no stupidity - more than usual - although I suspect that someone forgot to add his or her bat spleens, since one potion definitely smells smoky in here. Is our prefect okay?”
“Except from frostbite, a black eye and a massive punishment coming, I believe Mr Dillon is fine, as is Mr Snart.”
“Then my job here is done. I'll return to Herbology, and give Professor Sprout your regards and apology for keeping me here.” He gave Snape a big shit-eating grin and Snape, instead of threats or at least some kind of remark - and Piper could see that he was itching to make one - just said “Dismissed” and James left. Piper had the impression that he has just witnessed an episode of a much larger story.
“That was awesome” Jared whispered to him.
“No talking in class, Mr Morillo, minus 5 points for Ravenclaw.” Snape had just waited for someone to snap at. Dick.
Eventually, they all saw the light of day again and it was time for lunch. Linda sat down opposite him, watched him push his food around on his plate and then waved her hand in front of his face.
“Piper? Piper? Oh god...I know that look.”
“Hmmm?” Piper asked dreamily.
“Either you are under the influence of the Sedativus charm, or you're...you have a crush!”
“What?”
“Piper, dear, multisyllabic words, please.”
“Who?”
“You. have. a. crush. Piper.”
“Maybe.”
“You're admitting it. Okay. No, no, don't tell me. It's tuesday, so....so far, you've had Potions followed by History. Classmates? No, you have known them for years. Teacher? Certainly not of those subjects. Random encounter?”
“It was fate, Linda, fate.”
“Piper, you don't believe in fate. Didn't you give the whole commons room an hour long rant about a deterministic universe last month? I remember you confusing and in one instance, frighten other students.”
“But this, this was fate.”
“Okay, let me cut you off right here. Who is it?”
“James Jesse.”
“James Jesse the chaser? James Jesse the star chaser? James Jesse the star chaser who is probably the youngest student ever to make the Quidditch team, and who is at least part-way responsible for Slytherin winning the cup every damn year since he is in this school? That James Jesse?”
“Oh yes.”
“Do you know he's your complete opposite, a Slytherin star sportsman?”
“Yep. But he's charming, funny and he pissed off Snape without getting a penalty.”
“How did that happen?”
So Piper told her what had happened. He may have exaggerated a bit on James's looks.
“I heard about that one. Is it true that Snart guy punched the Slytherin house prefect and that the prefect created a blast that threw him out of the window?”
“On James' Herbology project, apparently. I guess that is what happened, but nothing specific.”
“Oh, I know more!” Jared interrupted, holding a fork with pasta on it half-way to his mouth. “I heard it from Chyre.” Chyre was a 7th year Hufflepuff to whom Jared stuck like glue. “Snart is a Gryffindor, but his little sister is in Slytherin. And she's the girlfriend of - you guessed it - Dillon, the Slytherin prefect. Snart and Dillon have always hated each other since day one, something happened in the train apparently, but that just made it worse. Then, in Transfiguration, someone brought up the little Snart, and no one is sure who threw the first punch, but Snart punched Dillon in the eye, kicked him, Dillon punched back, grabbed his wand and it was a disaster from there on. Ice spells - and people swear that they were too advanced for a student - hexes, then a smokescreen spell, so people aren't too sure anymore what happened, but Dillon caused an explosion, Snart was flung out of a window straight into the Herbology gardens. I don't know what happened to them afterwards. I've heard that they were in the hospital wing, that they were expelled, and I even heard that McGonagall hauled both to Dumbledore's office while Snape told them what he'd do to them if the staff were permitted to use violence or poisoning students. But that's just a rumour. I also heard that Snape turned them both into mice and is planning to feed them to his pet snake. As far as I know, the man doesn't even own a pet whatever.”
“Rumour, Jared, rumours. You have to get to the bottom of things, not rely on hearsay.”
“I'm not too interested in it, it's just a cool story.”
“I'll just ask Wally, he'll know more, at least about the background.”
“Yes, go to your Gryffindor boyfriend.”
“You're just jealous.”
“I'm not! Piper, tell Linda I'm not!”
“Some day, Jared, you will find a beautiful woman, you'll get married, and then she will boss you around for the rest of your life and you will love every second of it.”
“Hey!”
Linda ignored Jared. “Hey, Mark!”
Mark turned around from his conversation with Sam Scudder and replied with “What?”
“Aren't you friends with Snart? Did he really cast a Nix Nives?”
“Yep. If it's ice, Len can cast it. And then hurl it against people who piss him off.”
“Do you know what happened afterwards?”
“Hospital wing, mostly. A little bird told me that punishment is going to be withheld until they are completely unfrozen and have no more broken ribs.”
“Thanks, Mark.”
“You're welcome, darling.”
“In your dreams, Mardon.”
“Every night, Park.”
Linda faced Piper again. “Can you believe this guy?”
“He's a teenage boy. And gross.”
“Fair enough.
The story held the interest of most of the table and the rest of lunch was spent discussing, gossiping and sometimes eating, when the students remembered. Piper watched the teachers' table, but neither Professor McGonagall nor Professor Snape showed.
Piper had charms next and Professor Flitwick began his class with “Hello, and no, I don't know what happened this morning and I will not share any information on that subject.”. Dinner gossip told Piper that every other teacher had said the same, albeit in some cases with other words. In Snape's case, the words were “Don't.”
Piper should have done his homework, but he spent the evening talking with Tina McGee about the last Quidditch matches he had attended but never really paid attention to, except cheer when Ravenclaw scored a point and at one memorable instance, yelled at the referee. He didn't specifically mention James Jesse, but naturally the subject turned to him eventually. Talking about Quidditch without talking about him was like talking about baking without ever mentioning flour. Or sugar. According to Tina, James was fast, creative and seemed to be born to fly. “Looking at him fly is like poetry in motion. It's like a bird spreading his wings, like a phoenix.” As much as Piper liked to listen to facts (or dreams) about James, he would have like to know more about the game. He couldn't think of a better conversation opener, and he desperately wanted to talk to James. Well, someday. Somehow.
“Can't you tell me more about the game and the rules?”
“Why the sudden interest in Quidditch? Trying to chat up a girl you like? Don't you usually rely on those horrible musical puns of yours?”
“They are not horrible, they are extremely witty!”
“Sure they are. But alright, let's see...”
In the end, she did explain to him the general rules and famous games, and told him about a few famous players and games. After a while she did go back to teasing him, he revealed that he was trying to chat up a boy, at which point she resumed teasing and started guessing.
“It's not Mark, isn't it?”
“Where do you get those ideas? Hell no!”
“Jared?”
“Tina, please.”
“Fine, keep your secret. For now.”
Night came, and while Piper lay awake, testing out various ways how a possible conversation might go, something stirred in the hospital wing. Len Snart turned his head onto his side and looked towards the window where he had heard a noise. Any other person might have chalked it up to a branch hitting the window, but Len knew better. “Just be quiet,” he hissed.
The face that had appeared at his window grinned in response. “Alohomora,” it said and the window opened. In flew not one, but two persons on a broomstick; both young and blonde.
“Lisa,” Len breathed. His sister went over and gave him a hug that made him wince, but he kept quiet and enjoyed the moment. “You know that you're not forbidden to run around at night.”
“Just you try and stop me,” she replied and grinned, but her eyes looked sad.
“What's the matter?” Len asked concerned.
“You, you stupid fuckhead. What were you thinking? You could get expelled! And you could have really hurt Roscoe.”
“Oh please, he started it. Aaaaand besides,” he said and interrupted her response, “he is better off than me. I was the one who got thrown into a stupid hedge.”
“Which was my Herbology project, you numbskull. Just be glad I moved it to cushion your fall.”
“Nobody asked for your input, JJ” Lisa replied coldly.
JJ pouted and went over to the other occupied bed. “Surprise, Roscoe.”
“Go away.”
“Hey, I specifically came here to cheer you up. Well, actually Lisa threatened me until I flew us here. She'll be over after she gives Len a piece of her mind. Then, she'll give one to you. Seriously man, what is it between you two? I get that you despise each other, but it usually goes off without explosions. Or shattered windows. Or two professors going at each other's throats.”
“He started it,” Roscoe stated.
JJ sighed. “It's always the other one. I just-” he broke off, then held a finger to his lips. He had heard something. It sounded like muffled talking, like someone in an enclosed space, bumping into things, it sounded like “Sam, is that you?”
“Shit. This thing isn't sound proof yet?”
“Apparently not. Come on out.”
The third window from the right glowed faintly, then a boy stepped out. “I thought I fixed this. Man, I spent hours working on that. I rented a dozen books and I thought I finally got it.”
“Sam, you have created a mirror portal, a way to travel that can rival the fleapowder fireplaces. That's genius, and you complain because you can't keep your mouth shut while you're in it.”
“Hey, I was silent. The peanut gallery couldn't shut up.”
“The peanut...Mick, Digger, Mark, is that you?”
“If I said 'no', would you believe me?”
“Probably not.”
“Then move over already, this thing isn't too roomy.”
The window glowed again, and three more boys stepped out.
“Still better than walking all the way. Last time we almost got caught by the bloody baron, and that dude is scary. Is it true he killed unicorns and tried to live forever?”
“That's a rumour,” Roscoe said, “a completely exaggerated rumour.”
“Still the prefect, even in here,” Mick said, “hey, they refurnished. Last time I was here, they still has those ugly, uncomfortable chairs, those now” he sat down, “feel awesome!”
“Mick, that was two weeks ago,” Mark said, “I can't believe how many times you've already been in there. I was actually with you in that class when Flitwick taught us extinguishing spells. I know you can put out fires, yet you regularly burn things and wind up in here for a check-up.”
“Fire is beautiful. I don't want to put it out.”
“Still on the road to become a future dragon trainer?”
“Oh yes.”
“Shut the fuck up!” Lisa yelled.
“Sorry,” the boys mumbled.
“I guess 'project: fuck with prefect Allen' is on hold for now.” Digger added sadly.
“Guys, focus. They may get expelled!” Sam hissed.
“Yeah, but what can we do?” Mick asked.
The following silence was a bit embarrassing for a all.
“Step up as character witnesses?”
“Yeah, because we are the best people to tell someone that our friends are not batshit insane bastards. They'd never believe us.”
“I think Digger standing up for anyone is the worst kind of thing a character witness could do, short from punching the judge.”
“Isn't that how Mr Harkness lost his factory?”
“Yep. Digger. So Digger, um....don't.”
“We could always have Lisa cry and cling dramatically to Len and Roscoe.”
“Better than plan B.”
“Plan B as in having Mick blowing shit up as a distraction?”
“That plan.”
The rest of the time was spent talking, trying to make jokes and when they pushed Len's and Roscoe's beds pushed together, they played Wizard Snap.