A/N + Disclaimer: Nothing Harry Potter related belongs to me, except of course, nose-eating niffards (you'll see). I'll be the first to admit that this is a crack plot, but I'm doing something a bit different and going at it with an entirely serious tone. Even I know this story is whack. I'm just hoping you'll stick around to see where this goes (if you're wondering, I'm not quite sure myself yet).
With the type of life Harry Potter led, he didn't think anything would ever be able to honestly catch him by surprise. Upon reading the front page of the Daily Prophet that Hermione slammed down for him and Ron to see that morning, he realized he was wrong in his assumption. Confusion caused his eyebrows to furrow together as he glanced at the odd picture and headline:
Flurry of Stolen Noses – He Who Must Not Be Named Suspected
Under the headline was a picture of a number of patients standing in the lobby of St. Mungo's and looking quite strange without noses on their face. Ron seemed unfazed by it and continued eating as usual – stuffing an ungodly amount of blueberry scones into his mouth. Hermione – who was still standing – turned a furious gaze his way.
"Aren't you the least bit concerned, Ron!?" She snapped at him, and he had the decency to look a bit sheepish before replying with a full mouth. When he spilled crumbs on the table and nobody could understand a word he was saying, Hermione huffed and plopped down in a seat next to Harry. "Oh honestly, Ron," she complained, crinkling her nose. Harry couldn't help but grin and shake his head at his friends' usual antics. Swallowing what must have been a huge bite of food, Ron took a drink before replying.
"Sorry," he muttered when Hermione glanced at him expectantly, "anyways – don't know why you've got your bloody knickers all in a twist, Hermy." He'd developed the habit of calling Hermione that as often as possible ever since the previous year when Grawp called her that. She hated it when he did it and she glared and swatted him with the paper she now had in her hands and was in the process of reading. "Oi – what was that for?" He asked despite already knowing the answer. Ron rubbed his arm where she swatted him. "All I'm sayin' is – how do they even know it was You Know Who? Not like the people are dead. That's more his style right? Just plain killin' them? What's he gotta steal noses for?"
Harry couldn't help but shoot Ron an odd look. Sure, he had a point that Voldemort didn't usually attack without killing, but he had to notice his . . . well . . . lack of a nose. "Uh Ron, he is sorta missing a nose. Maybe he's mad about it?" He suggested with a shrug.
"Yeah, but Dad's had lots of wizards doing that as a joke, you know? Apparently it's funny to do to Muggles," Ron couldn't hold back an amused expression from that mental picture, and Harry was fairly certain if Hermione didn't currently have her nose buried in the Daily Prophet she would have swatted him again.
"Well if it really is Voldemort," Harry paused for a moment and shot Ron a look when he flinched, "what should we do about it? Do you think Dumbledore knows?" He asked and Ron shrugged, now munching on a piece of toast.
"Of course he knows," Hermione added with a scoff. "If the Daily Prophet knows, he's bound to, Harry." She did have a good point. While they'd stopped calling Harry a liar and mentally unstable, the Daily Prophet still wasn't quite on the up and up on current events. If the Prophet knew, then this had been going on for quite some time, but in secret. "We haven't got the time to worry about it now though. We have class," she pointed out. Harry was surprised when he glanced around the rapidly clearing Great Hall.
"Bugger!" Ron exclaimed around the bite of toast. He grabbed up another piece of toast before standing. "We've got Snape too; he'd give us a detention for just being on time!" Hermione tucked the newspaper in her robes and soon the three of them were quickly making their way up to Gryffindor Tower to gather what they needed for Defense Against the Dark Arts. It was going to be odd to have Snape as a teacher. With a small quirk of his lips, Harry couldn't help but hope that would be the last of Snape they'd see. None of the teachers ever did stick around for a second year of that post. Despite what Snape had done to make sure The Order showed up at the Ministry of Magic, he was no more pleasant than his usual vile self, and Harry was quite content with ignoring the fact he might have done something nice. They were right back on their old terms again. That was ever present when Harry entered the Defense classroom. The three of them were among the last of the students to trickle in, but they were still on time. Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes when Malfoy sneered at them as usual.
"Oh look, The Golden Trio decided they could show up for class. Find your seats then." Harry didn't even have to look to see the cruel sneer on Snape's face – he heard it in his voice. Hermione blushed slightly and hurried over to an empty seat next to Neville while Harry and Ron followed at a much slower pace. They sat in the two seats on the other side of Neville.
"Hi Harry," Neville greeted with an obvious lack of enthusiasm and an odd pallor to his skin. You could tell he was less than enthused that Snape was their new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
"Hi Neville," Ron and Harry both greeted him. Hermione was too busy digging through her bag to pull out her quill, book, and parchment. "You read the Prophet this morning?" Ron asked him and Neville nodded.
"Yeah it was odd wasn't it? Why would they blame You Know Who for people losing noses?" Neville, like most of their classmates, had never actually seen Voldemort, so it came as no surprise that he didn't catch on to what Voldemort would have against noses. The conversation would have continued, but Snape shot them a very pointed look when he called for silence.
Even though Harry usually enjoyed the class, Snape had the wonderful talent of draining the fun out of everything. Harry still preferred him over that old toad Umbridge. He'd been incredibly disappointed when he heard that the Ministry had rescued her from the centaurs and put her on probation. Harry had been hoping they'd have killed her. Halfway through Snape's lecture on advanced defensive spells (most of which Harry already knew from his last year with Dumbledore's Army), and Harry wished Snape had been handed over to centaurs too. Harry withheld a yawn and scribbled absentmindedly in his notebook for the rest of class. When class was finally over, Malfoy knocked into Harry on the way out and caused him to drop what he'd been carrying. "Watch your nose, Potter!" He exclaimed with a cackle. His comment caused that vile Pansy to all but scream in amusement. Her laugh was one of the most aggravating sounds Harry had ever heard.
"He's a right git," Ron commented as they made their way towards their Potions class with Slughorn.
"Who, Snape?" Harry asked because his thoughts were mostly on the huge amount of homework Snape had just assigned to them.
"Well yeah, but I was talkin' bout Draco," Ron replied with a shake of his head. "Do ya reckon he knows more about this nose thing than the Daily Prophet?"
"His dad is a Death Eater, so probably," Harry replied with a shrug. He wasn't all too concerned about Voldemort's latest scheme. At least he wasn't killing anybody, and it wasn't like they couldn't grow back noses at St. Mungo's.
"Who's a Death Eater?" Luna's airy voice asked from behind them as she all but appeared out of nowhere and caught up, walking next to Ron. Both boys held back a sigh. They didn't have a problem per say with Luna; she just could be annoying at times. Of course after the battle at the Ministry of Magic, they were much more willing to tolerate her.
"Draco's dad – did you read The Daily Prophet today?" It seemed that Ron was just going to ask every person he came into contact with. Luna glanced at him with a slightly dazed expression, but considering that was usual for her, Harry chose to disregard it.
"You must be talking about the missing noses . . ." she trailed off. It appeared that she wasn't going to elaborate, so Harry cleared his throat quite loudly. This seemed to urge her to go on. "My dad published a similar article about a month ago, but we think it's nose-eating niffards – not You Know Who," she replied matter of factly. Ron rolled his eyes and looked exasperated.
"Yeah – erm, well we have to go to Potions, but uh – we'll talk to you later, Luna!" Harry called out as they hurried away. Luna nodded absentmindedly and wandered off.
"No we bloody won't! Nose-eating niffards? Where do they come up with this stuff?" Ron asked with a shake of his head. "Bloody bizarre is what she is." Harry couldn't help but agree. This missing nose business was bothering him though. Surely they'd find a cure for those people?
"There is no cure! Don't you see, Lucius? The ingenious of my plot? Surely without noses they'll all submit to me and hand over the boy!" Voldemort exclaimed. Lucius skillfully hid just how stark-ravingingly mad he thought The Dark Lord was. Perhaps he hadn't been resurrected properly. Surely something hadn't come back correctly because this plan was the most outrageous thing he'd ever heard.
"Yes, my Lord, but just how many erm noses do you think are necessary for this? Surely only a few would suffice," he remarked – unable to tear his eyes away from the multitude of noses sticking off The Dark Lord's face. It was even more disconcerting than the snake-like slits that were now overshadowed by the other oddities on The Dark Lord's face.
"Oh no my dear Lucius, the more the merrier in fact! I presume the poor staff at St. Mungo's has their hands quite full at the moment. As long as the appendage is attached to another living creature, nothing will work to bring back their nose. I've created this curse specifically for this use. There can be no regrowth either. They'll discover soon enough that this is indeed very serious." Lucius merely nodded. He hoped Lord Voldemort knew what he was doing, because Lucius himself certainly didn't.
Albus was pacing his office. It was a common occurrence, so Severus had been expecting it when he entered to bring the salve that was keeping his curse confined to his hand. "Headmaster – I believe I've informed you that needlessly tiring yourself will only make your condition worse," Severus stated as he entered the Headmaster's quarters. Albus ceased his pacing and turned his attention towards Severus.
"Severus, why so formal? We're all friends here," he paused, noticing what Severus held in his hands. "Ah – so soon? Well then I suppose I should sit," after Severus's nod, he sank into his large chair. He hadn't realized how truly exhausted he was until he felt the cushion under him. For once in his long lifetime, he felt old. Severus turned towards the door, placing a locking charm on it, before sitting in the chair opposite of Dumbledore's desk. He took his affected arm in his hands and pushed up the sleeve. A small noise of discontent escaped his lips, but that was all the indication Severus made that Albus's condition was rather quickly worsening. When Albus had first come to him for his opinion on the state of his future well-being, the curse had been confined to only the last two fingers of his hand. Now it covered the area from those two fingers all the way down the side of his hand and his wrist. It had only been a month, and while the progression didn't seem like much, it was worrisome to Severus. The speed at which it spread at would only increase the longer he endured the curse. "Do not fret, Severus, it will only make your task easier when the time comes," Albus stated as Severus began working the salve into his dying flesh. Severus' wince was practically imperceptible, and if Albus noticed, he remained silent. Severus was never one who liked to show emotion, and picking up on it would have placed them both in an uncomfortable situation.
Just as he was capping the lid back on the healing salve he'd created, one of the portraits that had been empty upon his arrival now contained a rather irate looking man with dark hair, red cheeks, and an annoyed expression on his face. "I'd recommend removing the locking charm on your office now, Headmaster. The boy down there is all but yelling out the password and won't leave." There was no doubt about who wanted to see the Headmaster. He'd surely read the Daily Prophet this morning. It was only natural he'd come to Dumbledore for answers. Severus quickly lifted his locking charm and moments later, Potter all but bolted into the room. His eyes widened a bit in shock at the sight of Severus in the Headmaster's office before they narrowed in dislike. Severus returned the dirty look with a scowl.
"Headmaster," he bowed his head slightly in farewell and tucked the salve into his robes on his way out. "Potter," his voice practically dripped venom when the name fell off his lips harshly. Harry was so used to it he only flinched slightly at the oddly nastier than usual way Snape had addressed him.
"Professor Dumbledore! Are you alright? Your password wasn't working!" Harry exclaimed once Severus had left the room. Albus merely chuckled and walked around his desk to pick up a bowl filled with black licorice.
"Licorice?" He offered. When Harry shook his head in the negative – the Headmaster's candy always made him wary since a not so pleasant experience – Albus merely shrugged and popped a piece in his mouth. There were a few moments of silent in which Harry was practically buzzing with tense energy while Dumbledore was the picture of calm. "I'll have to look into it then. Was there anything else you required?" He asked, casually letting his robe sleeve fall completely over his afflicted hand. Harry was too distracted to notice.
"Have you heard? St. Mungo's can't fix those peoples' noses! What would Voldemort want with their noses? Sure he doesn't have his own, but what would he gain from this? He hasn't even killed any of them!" It all came out in a rush and Dumbledore merely lifted an eyebrow at him. Harry was agitated and hated feeling like he knew next to nothing about what was going on. Didn't they trust him? He was the supposed Chosen One – wasn't he supposed to know what was going on?
"Yes I'm quite aware of the dilemma St. Mungo's is having. Unfortunately, we – meaning The Order and myself – aren't quite sure what to make of it. This is certainly unprecedented. In fact, we suspect he created the curse himself."
"But why?"
"Why does evil do anything? To cause harm. Quite frankly I'm just as . . . surprised by his latest actions, but until the Order learns more of his reasoning, I'm afraid there's very little I can say to assure you that there is nothing to worry about. I recommend merely focusing on your classes for now, Harry. Remus and Tonks are investigating in depth tonight as we speak. Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe dinner is starting shortly and your friends are likely missing you. I bid you a good evening, Harry, and wish you luck in your studies."
Knowing a dismissal when he heard one, Harry sighed, but muttered the appropriately polite responses to Dumbledore's words before exiting the Headmaster's office. Disappointment washed over him, but what had he been expecting anyways? Nothing was ever straight-forward nor explained to him, so why would now be any different? That knowledge certainly didn't make it any less annoying, and Harry's thoughts were clouded with irritation as he made his way towards the Great Hall - where his friends would be waiting - and he couldn't help but begin to scheme. He'd get to the bottom of this. He was determined to.