Snape crossovers100 fic: Apparition (HP/Numb3rs)
At long last, fic.
Title: Apparition
Claim: Severus Snape (Harry Potter)
Fandoms: Harry Potter, Numb3rs
Characters: Snape, Larry, Charlie
Prompt: #065: Passing
Word Count: 1786
Rating: G
Author's Notes: In which a couple of CalSci professors get an unusual visitor. Honest feedback of all types is welcome and appreciated. Thanks to izhilzha for a quick and attentive beta; any remaining mistakes are all mine.
Apparition
by Mistral Amara
The midday sun shone hot and bright over the quad outside the CalSci cafeteria. Its nearly perpendicular rays whittled the shadows into thin black lines that offered no shelter to the two men waiting below. A lukewarm breeze of students flowed incuriously around the two professors and vanished into the building's cool interior.
"Larry, you know I'm happy to keep you company on my lunch hour," said Charlie. "But couldn't we wait for your visitor inside?"
Larry nibbled his fingers nervously. "No, no. My friend was very specific, we're to meet his colleague out here by this statue at 11:55 precisely. He's on his way to a conference further up the coast; if we're not here, he won't wait."
"He sounds a little full of himself, if you ask me." Charlie checked his watch. "Well, if he's to be here at 11:55 precisely, that's in precisely three minutes. In precisely four minutes, I'm heading for the cafeteria."
"Yes, yes, mock all you want, Charles. But I'm sure the man will be here. My friend may be a little eccentric--"
"Imagine that."
"--but a formidable intellect, nonetheless--"
"Again, I'm shocked."
"--and when he says 'precisely', I'm inclined to take him at his word. Besides, I'm eager to see this book; Professor Dumbledore thinks I'll find it helpful in my research."
"This--Dumbledore, was it?--what's he a professor of?"
Larry opened his mouth to answer, closed it again, frowned. "You know, I don't think he's ever said. Physics, I assumed; he certainly knows more than your average layman."
"Then where did you meet him?"
"Oh, we've never met," replied Larry. "Ours has been a comradeship of pure mind, via the written word. No phone calls, no E-mails, just a classic correspondence like the great thinkers of yesteryear, our missives winging their way across the globe, carrying our conjectures and conclusions to an eager recipient in a faraway land. It was a most fortuitous day for me when his first letter arrived in my office."
Charlie looked at him askance. "Okay, let me get this straight. You've never met, you don't know what his credentials are. You don't know anything about him except what he's told you, and now at his insistence you're standing here waiting for yet another person you don't know to bring you a book on some subject that you also don't know. The only thing we do know is that this encounter with the unknown is scheduled to take place in--" Charlie checked his watch again, "--ninety-six seconds."
"When you put it that way, it does sound somewhat less than wholly rational," said Larry, shaking his head. "Trust you to bring the taint of skepticism out of the realm of science, where it belongs, and into the realm of friendship, where it most definitely does not."
"It's just that I can't help but notice that the whole thing is a little odd. Why didn't your friend just mail the book?"
"I just assumed it was too old and valuable, or perhaps just too heavy to send by owl."
"By owl?"
"All Dumbledore's letters come by owl. Didn't I say? I suppose I'm used to it by now. But the first time, oh, the first time that owl swooped through my office window, I was surprised, not to say startled. But I suppose it's not that much different from using carrier pigeons." Larry frowned. "Unless . . . well, he must be using a relay system with other owl fanciers. Surely that owl isn't coming all the way from England; that would be strange--are you sure I didn't mention the owls?"
"Pretty sure. That does explain the scratch marks on the back of your guest chair, though."
"A small price to pay--oh, wait, I think this is our guest now."
Indeed, the man striding across the quad toward them looked nothing like a student. In contrast with the colorful T-shirts and shorts of the students around him, he was dressed all in black: boots, trousers, an unseasonable turtleneck, and a curiously cut jacket. Even his lank hair and piercing eyes were the color of cold midnight, a harsh affront to the bright California sun. The only hint of color about his person was a splash of green-dyed leather, the weathered cover of a large book that he carried tucked protectively under one arm.
The dark figure looked neither right nor left, but covered the distance with a surprising economy of motion and stopped in front of them. He raised an eyebrow. "Have I the honor of addressing--?"
"Doctor Larry Fleinhardt," said Larry, offering his hand. "And this is Doctor Charles Eppes, Professor of Mathematics. You must be Professor Snape."
"I am." Snape took Larry's hand and executed a sliver of a bow over it. "Headmaster Dumbledore sends his greetings. And this book, which he hopes you will find to be of some interest."
He handed over the well-worn volume, which Larry received with the air of a man being awarded a great honor. "Thank you, thank you. So kind of you to go out of your way to bring it."
Snape inclined his head.
"Well," said Charlie. "Now that Professor Snape is here, perhaps we can get out of this heat."
"Oh, yes," said Larry. "We were just about to have lunch. Won't you join us? Our cafeteria is not exactly cordon bleu, but it does do a creditable white-cheddar mac. And while I've never had it, I understand that the Cobb salad is quite delectable. We would be so glad to have you as our guest."
"So glad," echoed Charlie, deadpan.
Professor Snape looked narrowly at Charlie for a moment, but when he replied to Larry, his manner was scrupulously polite: "Thank you, but I must decline. My symposium starts with a noon luncheon, and I am the first speaker following."
"Oh," said Larry. "But, it's nearly noon now. Never mind the luncheon, you'll be late for your own presentation. You'd better phone ahead so they can reschedule. I'd be happy to offer my office, if you'd like some quiet to make the call."
Snape gave another, deeper bow that failed to completely hide the quick twist of his lips. "Please don't concern yourselves. I assure you, it is not a problem."
"Well . . . if you're sure."
"I am. And now, I must be going. If you'll just let Headmaster Dumbledore know when you're done with the book, he'll arrange to have it collected."
"Oh, yes, of course," said Larry. "Thank you again."
"Farewell," said Snape. He turned and strode away again, in the direction from which he'd first appeared. Larry looked puzzled for a moment, but then gave his attention eagerly to the book.
If there had ever been a title on the cover of the ancient volume, it had long since worn away. Larry turned the pages gently, as Charlie watched over his shoulder. When he reached the title page, they read:
Underpinnings of the Cosmos:
An Investigation into the Relation of Matter and Magic
by Newton Figg-Applethwaite
And underneath that, in an elegant copperplate:
Please return to Albus Dumbledore,
Headmaster,
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
They gaped at the page, then at each other. Larry shook his head. "I don't understand."
"It's a joke," said Charlie. "And not a very friendly one, if you ask me."
"No, this makes no sense. Albus has a wonderful, inclusive sense of humor; one might almost say playful. I've never detected a hint of meanness or insincerity in his letters."
"Then maybe the prankster is somebody else."
"Blame the messenger? Oh, Charles, I don't know . . ."
"Let's ask him." Charlie turned and called across the quad, "Professor Snape! Wait!" But there was no sign that Snape had heard; he continued across the quad and turned into a narrow alley that dead-ended between two of the buildings. Charlie sprinted after him, with Larry close behind, clutching the peculiar book.
They arrived at the mouth of the alley, rounded the corner, and saw Snape halfway along the length of the building, illuminated by a shaft of sunlight. His back toward them, he took a step from light into shadow and vanished, like a candle winking out.
Charlie stopped short, nearly causing Larry to run him down. He scanned the length of the alley. "Where'd he go?"
"It's a mystery to me," said Larry. "He didn't come back past us. Either he's still in this alley, or . . ."
"Or what?" Charlie's voice sounded edgy, even to himself.
"Or, he's not."
"Impossible."
Larry shrugged. "Improbable, certainly. Impossible, perhaps not. The impossible is only impossible until it happens."
They walked the length of the alley slowly, searching for any sign of the missing Snape. Finally they returned to the spot they'd seen him standing last. Larry, still holding the book, examined everything closely--the walls of the buildings, the ground underfoot, even the angle of the sunlight, while Charlie stood by and fidgeted impatiently.
"So," said Charlie, when Larry appeared to be about to search the area a fourth time. "What do you think? Mass hallucination?"
"Mmm? Oh, we do have mass--certainly we are a mass of protons, neutrons, other subatomic particles--but I don't think that's the sense in which the term 'mass hallucination' is intended. No, I don't think that you and I qualify as that type of mass."
"Then it has to be a trick."
"We-e-ell," said Larry, running his free hand down a seam in the wall yet again, "illusionists are experts at creating the appearance of physical impossibility using trickery and a few simple props, but I see no mirrors, no ropes, no apparatus of any kind. I believe we may have to conclude that this Professor Snape, as incredible as it may seem, simply dis--"
"Don't say it." Charlie raised his hands in protest. "No, just don't say it. Come on, I'll buy you a milkshake. The flavor of the week, white chocolate."
"Ooh." Larry's fingers slowed their investigation of the wall. He was clearly tempted.
"Makes a nice change from vanilla, right? Let's go, I'm starving."
"But this is such a, a fascinating event. I need to explore the ramifications of what we've seen."
"What have we seen? Nothing. We saw nothing."
"Nothing, where there was previously something. I think that deserves a certain minimal degree of scrutiny, at least."
"And I'm sure you will," soothed Charlie. "But right now, lunch."
"All right, Charles. But don't mistake my temporary acquiescence for an abandonment of the problem."
"No, no. Wouldn't dream of it."
They headed back toward the cafeteria, Larry throwing thoughtful glances over his shoulder all the way.
--end--