Mulciber's Friend
This story was written for The Houses Competition forum.
House: Gryffindor
Year: Year 3
Category: Themed story
Prompts: Theme: Friendship—A true friend stands by through the best and the worst. 2. [Speech] "Well, I had this plan…"
Word count: 3965 words (According to Google Docs and wordcounterdotnet)
Dedicated to Oni! (Please see the end for more notes…)
April 1976
The castle was different at night. Rather than the excited chatter of students or the sound of shoes slapping across the marble floor, the only noises that could be heard were the snoring of some of the portraits and the occasional hoot of an owl flying past a window. The pale moonlight cast shadows across the hallways, elongating the forms of the suits of armour posted in various nooks and crannies. Mulciber didn't mind though; he preferred their company to any student or professor. His nightly strolls gave him time to think.
Or they usually did, anyway.
"Lily… please… how many times do I have to say I'm sorry?"
Mulciber ducked behind the nearest suit of armour. Who dared disturb his night? He knew that the Prefects were on patrol, as well as that new caretaker, Filch, but they had all been making rounds on the lower floors. The voices were also far too youthful to be professors.
Peeking around the corner, he saw two students. One of them had her back to him, but he could tell from the superior stance she took and the way her auburn hair hung down her back that it was the Evans girl. Her hands were on her hips—as they always seemed to be. He couldn't help feel pity for the black-haired boy in front of her, his dark eyes holding a mixture of grief and sorrow.
"There is no amount of time that will make what you did right. Now, unless you want detention for being out after curfew, I'd suggest you return to your dormitory," Evans said.
Mulciber rolled his eyes; the girl couldn't possibly still be going on about Snape calling her a Mudblood, could she? The boy had said it over a year ago, for Merlin's sake, and Mulciber knew he wasn't the only one getting sick of their ongoing feud. The girl had to get a life and accept what she was, and Snape had to let her go.
It seemed that Snape at least had some sense tonight. Mulciber watched as the boy's eyes narrowed and his pale face turned red.
"You know what? I am finished trying to please you," Snape said. Then, flicking his too-long cloak around his ankles, he stormed away from the girl.
"Just go," Evans said.
She turned her back to the boy, allowing Mulciber to catch her rolling her eyes. It stirred up something within him, and before he knew it, he was striding towards her.
"Good evening, Mudblood."
The girl gave a start and her fiery green eyes narrowed. "Cyril Mulciber, I should have guessed. What are you doing wandering around after curfew? This is going to cost you twenty house points."
Mulciber smirked. "Ooh, I'm losing points, how scary," he said, placing his hands in his pocket and leaning up against the wall. "I just felt like a stroll, if you must know."
"If you must know, that is not allowed. Now hurry up and get back to your dormitory, or I will be forced to give you detention."
He held his hands up and shook them, his eyes going wide. "Oh no, whatever will I do?"
Evans huffed. She pushed a strand of hair from her forehead, causing Mulciber's smile to grow wider. Good; he was glad to be getting under her skin.
"What do you want?" she asked.
Mulciber opened his mouth, then paused. What did he want? He had walked over to her on an impulse, but now he wasn't so sure it was a good idea. What did he care what the Mudblood thought? It wasn't his problem.
Fixing his grey eyes on her, he decided to go ahead with his ill-thought out plan anyway. "I want you to start showing Severus some respect."
Evans took a step back and blinked. "Show Snape respect? Show him some respect? I have always been polite to him—not that he deserves it." Her eyes narrowed again, and she regained her composure. "Not that it's any of your business."
Mulciber pushed himself off the wall and clenched his teeth; she really was a piece of work. "Actually, it is my business when you treat a fellow student like scum, especially when we both know who the real dirt here is."
The redhead swallowed, her eyes blazing. In a quiet voice, she said, "I should not be surprised by your… opinions. I'm not surprised in the least that you are sticking up for a fellow snake. After all, you don't seem to have that great a standard, do you?"
If his blood hadn't been boiling before, it certainly was now. His breathing had grown heavier, and he jabbed a finger at her. "I'll have you know that Severus Snape is more of a man than you have ever given him credit for, and if you weren't so stuck up, you would know just how great he is."
One year earlier...
Tick. Tick. Tick.
"The… the Armour-Amar-"
Tick. Tick. Tick.
"The Amort-tent? Amortent-e-a? The—oh shut up!" Mulciber gritted his teeth and glared at the clock perched atop the mantlepiece.
Ever since that bloody group of Gryffindors had messed with the school clocks in the hopes of classes letting out early a few months ago, the clock in the common room had seemed louder than ever. How was anyone supposed to study with its non-stop racket?
A few second years looked up at his outburst, and he fixed his glare on them instead. Why were they so close to him? Had they heard him trying to sound out the words? No, that was impossible; they were probably just trying to get closer to the crackling fire. Besides, most of the students in the room were murmuring to themselves as they studied. Even so, he growled at one of the younger students as they attempted to claim the armchair to his left, just to make sure they stayed away.
He glanced around the room to make sure no one else was watching him and picked up his textbook. Holding it in front of his face, he tried to read the paragraph again.
"The Amor-atormen-tia Po-potion…"
Mulciber squinted at the words, knowing that it wouldn't make a difference. Why did they have to be so difficult? The letters were jumping around the page again, swapping their positions, teasing him. He wanted to throw his book, and if he didn't think it would draw even more attention to himself, then he probably would have.
With a sigh, he lowered his book again. It wasn't like it was always this difficult to understand; it must be the noise. Yes, that was it, the room was too noisy for him to concentrate. Fixing his eyes in his most menacing glare, he looked around the room again.
There weren't that many students about, really. Apart from the small cluster of second years—who had now found safety in a corner by the bookshelf—only a handful of people sat around. A couple of first-year girls were huddled together on a long sofa, gossiping away—about who or what, he didn't care as long as it wasn't about him. A weedy-looking sixth year was scratching away at an essay, and a few seventh years were pouring over textbooks at a low table.
The only person in his grade was a thin, dark-haired boy that he sometimes sat next to in Potions. When Mulciber realised that the boy was also watching him with his head tilted, he frowned.
"What are you staring at, Snape?" he spat.
The boy shrugged his shoulders but didn't look away. Mulciber snarled at him, yet when Snape still didn't turn away, he turned back to his book.
His hands shook a little as he turned the pages, pretending to read. Did the boy know his secret? No, he couldn't know; no one did. Snape was just being a nosy little git as usual.
Mulciber ignored the boy and looked for an easier topic in his book. He had to study, and perhaps if he found a page with a few more pictures and smaller words, he might be right.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
"Reducto!"
Ti—
Mulciber lowered his wand and smiled. The spell hadn't been too difficult to master, not with the illustrations showing each wand movement on the side of the page. Better still, he had killed two dragons with one spell and stopped the clock's unbearable ticking.
He settled back in his seat and sighed. Thankfully, the rest of Slytherin house was off watching the Quidditch game and it would leave him plenty of time to study without disruption. Or better still, without prying eyes looking over his shoulder.
He turned his textbook to the next page with a marker, and his smile dropped. Turning it over and back, he saw that this spell had no pictures to guide him like the last one had. The writing was also printed in a smaller font, and as he tried to read the chapter title, he realised the words and letters were not going to cooperate.
"De-Depew-Depu—What the?"
Mulciber snapped the book shut and threw it on the low coffee table. It skidded across the wooden surface, knocking over the pile of already discarded textbooks. Without even bothering to see if any of the books' spines were ruined, he bent over and placed his head on his knees with a groan.
Why him? Why couldn't he just be normal and smart like—
Mulciber's head snapped up as he felt someone watching him. Sure enough, there stood Severus Snape, his dark eyes holding a strange mixture of amusement and concern.
"What do you want?" Mulciber asked.
The boy didn't respond. Bending down, he picked up the Charms textbook. Then, opening it to the page that Mulciber had been on, the boy plopped down on the sofa next to him.
Mulciber had the urge to shove him off, but in his shock, he simply moved as far away from the greasy-haired kid as possible.
"So, how long has it been?" Snape asked, turning to him with a raised eyebrow.
Mulciber's heart rate quickened. How long had what been? How did the git know? No, he didn't know.
"What are you talking about?" he said, snatching at the textbook.
The boy held it out of his reach. He looked almost bored as he repeated, "How long have you had trouble reading?"
His blood ran cold. He shook his head, a million threats coming to his mind. He knew. The git knew. And it didn't matter how he had found out anymore, either; he needed to be kept quiet. Would it be best to bribe him? Snape didn't look like he had all that much money—his robes were always faded and his hair never seemed to be washed. He could probably offer him a few Galleons to keep quiet. Or perhaps he could simply pound him into silence…
Snape flicked a stringy strand of hair from his face. "Don't worry; I don't care about exposing your 'little secret.' I'm just sick and tired of watching you mutter and curse under your breath every day. In fact, I'd like to help you."
Mulciber blinked before narrowing his eyes at the boy. "I don't need your help."
Snape's mouth twisted up into a smirk. Holding out the Charms textbook, he pointed to a random paragraph. "Oh yeah? Then read that."
He snatched his book from the boy; he'd show him. Licking his lips and clearing his throat, he focused on the paragraph.
"The Delu-Dep-Depull—the depul-so spell is used to-to ban-banshi..." he glanced up at Snape before quickly looking down again. The boy was staring at him, causing his cheeks and neck to burn. "To banshi an ob-obj—Oh, for Merlin's sake!" Looking up, he glared at Snape. "Why would you help me?"
With a shrug, he said, "I have my reasons."
Mulciber sat back on the sofa, surveying the boy. If he wasn't going to spill his secret, then he wanted something. Knowing the likes of Snape, it was probably either money or, given that the weedy git was a loner, friendship. Well, the fool was certainly barking up the wrong Whomping Willow. Mulciber didn't have friends; he only had carefully chosen acquaintances.
Still, Snape did achieve high grades, and perhaps he could use a little help.
Sighing, he nodded. "Fine, but if you tell anyone…"
Snape snorted. "Let's just start before they come back."
Go on, use the tactics I've shown you. Sound it out."
"The banshi-banish—the banishing spell is used to—to banish—tobanishobjectsintothickair," Mulciber said, the barest hint of a smile on his lips.
He wouldn't admit it, but he was glad that Snape had stuck by him. He was finally able to distinguish the letters a little more and use the sounds they made, rather than just relying on the pictures to help him.
Even so, Snape could be quite the prick when he wanted to be.
"'To banish objects into thin air.' And it would be even better if I could understand what you were saying," he said.
Mulciber glared at him. "That's what I said. Clean out your ears."
"Don't mumble. Now, go on, there's more that I would like you to read."
He rolled his eyes but continued reading. "The banishing charm is the opp-opposite?" he peeked up at Snape, who motioned for him to continue. "The opposite of the Accio spell, wh-which had been used for kenturies—"
"Centuries."
Mulciber huffed. "But it's a 'c'. Why would it make an 's' sound? That's stupid."
"That's English. Now, continue."
Raking a hand through his chestnut hair, Mulciber looked around the room. How was it fair that he was expected to know that? Maybe he was just tired, anyway.
"I think I might go watch the rest of the match," he said, dropping his book and standing up.
He wasn't able to take more than two steps, however, before Snape pushed him back down. For a scrawny little thing, he certainly was strong.
"You won't thank me for quitting."
"I just need a break."
Snape sighed. "I don't understand how you expected to get through the final years of school without being competent in your reading. In fact, I'm not sure how you got through so far."
Mulciber shrugged. "Well, I had this plan…"
He paused. What had his plan been? So far, none of the professors seemed to have noticed that he could not read. Most of his classes had him passing through practical work, and the professors that did require essays merely thought he was stupid. If he got lucky, he was able to pass off the work of a younger student as his own, with only a little bit of persuasion necessary.
But would that be enough for the OWLs? Would it even be enough for his half-yearly exams?
"I thought so. Go on, try again," Snape said.
With another, louder huff, Mulciber stretched. He picked the book up and cleared his throat. "Assio was invented by Sa-Camer…" The letters were jumbling around again, all 'c's now sounding like 's's, even in words that he already knew how to pronounce. "No, you have to be taking the piss out of me with how you say them."
"And why would I do that? It's common for people with dyslexia, let alone beginner readers, to have trouble with those sounds. Now, continue," he said.
Mulciber shuddered at the term 'dyslexia.' When Snape had first explained to him what it was, he had almost knocked the boy out; there was no way he had something that only Muggles really knew about. It was only when Snape had further explained that his mother also had a similar difficulty, as well as quite a few other magical folks, that he had finally calmed down.
He wasn't going to get anywhere now anyway, and he looked around for another distraction. When he saw Snape tapping his watch, he realised there wasn't much he did know about the boy. The one thing he did know—apart from his mother's reading problem—was that the boy had very poor taste.
"So what's up with you and that Evans chick? Did you go out with the Mudblood or something?"
Snape stiffened. His cheeks grew a little red, and he bent forward so that his hair covered his eyes.
"We were frien—it doesn't matter. Let's just get back to your work."
"I've seen you hanging around her before. Isn't that why those bloody Gryffindors are always messing with you?"
"Read that paragraph for me again."
"C'mon, don't avoid the subject. Tell me, why aren't you with her now? Did you finally realise how dirty she was?" Mulciber said.
Snape's breathing seemed a little heavier. It was a moment before he finally replied in a voice so quiet that he had to lean in to hear him.
"She's not dir—" The boy paused, then shook his head. "Yes, it was something like that."
Mulciber folded his arms and nodded. Good; the boy at least had some sense. Snape wasn't the most desirable companion in the world, and he wasn't about to parade him around as such, but Mulciber was glad that he at least wasn't being taught by someone completely deranged. Perhaps if he knew that Mudbloods were beneath him, then he really might know about those stupid 'c's and 's's.
Already bored of what the boy had to say about the Evans girl, Mulciber picked up his book. If they didn't finish soon, the rest of their house would return from watching the Quidditch game. As it was, Slytherin was playing Hufflepuff, so they really only had an hour at most left to study before students would start setting up for the inevitable victory party, and he would have to pretend Snape was just another peer.
"Accio was invented by..."
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Mulciber's hand was aching, but he didn't stop. His quill flew across the parchment, each word a messy scribble. He wasn't sure if anything he wrote was spelt correctly, but at least he wasn't leaving the answers blank. In fact, he was understanding most of the questions.
"Time is up. Please put your quills down and turn in your papers to Professor Merriweather," Professor Flitwick squeaked from the front of the room, an empty hourglass in his hands.
Mulciber dropped his quill. He had done it—he had actually done it. He tapped his foot on the hall floor, waiting for Professor Merriweather to collect his paper. As soon as she did and the students were dismissed, he scraped back his chair and all but ran from the room.
Snape was waiting outside the door, having been one of the first to leave.
"So, how do you think you did?" he asked when he saw him.
Mulciber grinned at the boy. "I might pass."
Snape nodded. "Well, that is good news. Do not forget, though, that you still have a few more exams to complete, and we do have more to do to really get your reading up to speed."
He waved the boy off. "Yeah, yeah. Look, I just want to say thank—"
"Hey, Cyril. How'd you do?"
Mulciber spun around as he felt a hand on his shoulder. His closest acquaintance—and the only one to ever use his dreaded first name without getting pounded—Clarence Avery, was smiling at him. When Avery's blue eyes turned to Snape, however, he frowned.
"What do you want, Snape?" he said.
The boy opened his mouth to say something—perhaps the truth, or perhaps to insult Avery—but Mulciber stepped in front of him.
"Nothing," he said, fixing a sneer on his face. He was aware that a few people were now looking at them curiously. "He was just saying he's glad that the exam is over; nothing interesting, obviously. C'mon, let's go."
Without a second glance at Snape, Mulciber led Avery away, as well as a few other members of their group.
As they walked through the castle, however, a funny feeling overcame his stomach, like a fluttering of sorts. He wondered if maybe he was getting sick, but as soon as any thoughts of his tutor left, the feeling disappeared.
He wished he had been a little kinder to Snape. He had been so overjoyed about completing the exam without too much trouble that his mind had wandered far from anymore study that week. It was only that he had overheard a few Hufflepuffs fretting over the upcoming Transfiguration exam that he realised he was now only left with the weekend to practice his reading skills, and with no tutor at that.
With a sigh, Mulciber entered the library. He would just have to try and learn by himself.
Ever since the pair had almost been caught studying together one morning, Snape had suggested they use the library to study instead. Mulciber hadn't originally wanted to set foot in the room, but once he had found it quieter and much warmer than the Slytherin common room, he soon changed his mind. They even had their own desk in the corner to use each week.
When he now saw that the desk was occupied, he almost stopped short.
Mulciber set his books on the table and stared at the raven-haired boy. "What are you doing here?"
Snape looked up, almost bored. "Waiting for you. We have much work to do and—" the boy looked at the old, cracked watch on his wrist, "—you are half an hour late."
The strange feeling in his stomach from the week before returned. Mulciber placed a hand on his stomach and looked at Snape.
"I thought—I mean, erm, I thought you would have wanted to quit."
Snape fixed his dark eyes on his own hazel ones—they both knew what he was referring to. Even so, the boy then lifted his shoulders and sighed. "I'm used to it. Now, get out your Transfiguration textbook and let's begin. We have a lot to do."
Mulciber didn't wait to be asked twice. Sitting down in the chair opposite Snape, he did as he was told. Snape already had his textbook perched open on the desk, and when he saw that he was ready, pointed at the chapter they were on.
Whilst the boy explained the tasks they should complete, Mulciber couldn't help but study him. His stomach made funny flips again as he wondered why Snape could be so calm, so accepting. Shouldn't he have ignored Mulciber, or tried to curse him for what he had done? If the situation was reversed, Mulciber certainly would have made sure Snape paid for ditching him.
He realised that Snape was now watching him, his head slightly tilted. Mulciber hastily stared down at his own book and began reading as requested, a small smile spreading across his face.
April 1976
Evans crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not sure what little arrangement you two have, but I don't doubt that you think he is a 'man.' What have the pair of you done, tortured innocent creatures?"
Mulciber took another step forward, his finger still in her face. "Severus is my friend, I'll have you know," he said, pausing on the word 'friend.' It sounded foreign coming from his mouth, but as he stared down at the girl, he realised it wasn't necessarily a bad thing.
The girl blinked. "He's your what?"
"My friend. But you know what? You really didn't deserve him, and I'm glad you don't have him now."
He smiled at the girl, and when he saw her shiver, his smile widened. Without another word, he then turned on his heel and walked away from her, whistling.
It had felt good to put Evans in her place. It had felt even better to stick up for Severus; perhaps he would do it more often.
Further A/N:
This story is dedicated to Oni (Story Please) who is not only a fan of Severus but has been an amazingly supportive friend through tough times. She also came up with Mulciber's first name, 'Cyril' :D Speaking of, in case you are wondering why he refers to himself as 'Mulciber' in the actions and thoughts, it's sort of like how Nymphadora Tonks would think of herself as Tonks rather than Nymphadora.
Thank you to my lovely betas, Shay (ipsa dixit) and Fruits (Secret Fruits)! Credits to Maisie (Maisie Malfoy) for the Whomping Willow expression!
The timeline is also a little off, in that according to the Potter Wiki, Lily knew that Snape hung out with Mulciber and Avery whilst she was still best friends with him. However, I've written this from the perspective that she just assumed this information/ didn't believe that they were anything more than acquaintances using each other up, hence her surprise that Mulciber actually acts like Snape's friend (especially using his first name).
Most importantly, though, I hope that I did justice to anyone who has dyslexia. I do not have it myself and had to talk with a few friends about what it is like. I know everyone is different, and that many people with dyslexia do, of course, become amazing readers and writers (even more so than people without it). One particular friend who has it encouraged me to explore it a little more in my own real-life teaching, so I do hope I didn't write anything that was inaccurate or offensive. I promise I didn't mean to, and I intend complete respect to anyone and everyone who has ever had a reading difficulty :)
Finally, I intended to italicise the flashback part (aka the entire middle), however, to keep it both neat and avoid a whole block of italicised text, I simply went with the dates when the changed.
Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed my first themed story entry! Xx