CHAPTER TWO - SHOELACE WEED
Two days later, at breakfast, the post owls arrived, and a horned owl flew to Dumbledore and dropped a large envelope on the table, knocking over the Headmaster's second cup of tea. He scooped up the envelope before it stained, and Flitwick quickly cast a scourgify spell as the owl flapped away. The envelope was stamped and sealed with the Ministry "MoM". "I think I know what this is," muttered Dumbledore, barely audible over the din of breakfasting students.
Opening the envelope he withdrew a slim, bound gazette which bore similarity to Muggle type publications, being glue-sealed along the side and containing modern print and colour images. The pictures still moved however, and the main title re-wrote itself periodically to catch attention. The document was called A Guide to the Principles and Activities of Ministry Audit. Dumbledore couldn't resist a deep, heartfelt sigh at reading it. A note within the first two pages was from Fudge, and merely mentioned that this was the document as promised and he looked forward to hearing from Dumbledore soon.
The Headmaster looked down the teacher's table and caught Snape's attention, then held up the volume for Snape to read. Remus Lupin was sitting next to Snape and also read it. He turned to Snape with interest and said "What's that then?"
"Of little consequence," Snape replied, turning his gaze. "Ministry nonsense."
"Is Hogwarts to be audited?" asked Lupin baldly, showing surprising acuity. Enough to make Snape glance at him. The man had barely started working for Hogwarts and already was getting nosy.
"The Headmaster is to call a meeting on the matter. That is all I'm at liberty to say."
There was a sudden clatter from the Gryffindor table, and an uproar of laughter. Snape watched as Ron Weasley jumped up, joined by students on either side of him. Weasley's uniform pullover and the tops of his trousers were drenched in pumpkin juice. "Scabbers!" he yelled, and the swiftly scampering rat was visible halfway down the table. The students clearly found it hilarious, but Snape scowled. He eyed his Slytherins, and those who had noticed Weasley were sniggering, but for the most part they talked and ate in the contained fashion he demanded from them.
The Prefects at the Gryffindor table ordered Weasley to go back to the dorm to change. No magic was allowed to correct horseplay unless injury had incurred. Snape noticed Potter getting to his feet to join Weasley and waited for the Prefects to stop him, but Potter proceeded to walk out of the Hall with his friend. Snape had to clamp his mouth shut to avoid barking out a reprimand. This, he reckoned, was the fourth time in two days he had bitten his tongue as far as Potter was concerned. Frankly, had the preceding events occurred at the Slytherin table, the first student would have received detention for bringing a familiar to the table causing disorderliness, and any companion choosing to simply depart from the table without being excused would have lost 50 points. Maybe 25. Actually, it was so unlikely from a Syltherin that 10 points would have been more reasonable, since there was probably a good reason for the decision.
Meanwhile, Dumbledore had Geminio'd the Ministry text and passed copies to both McGonagall and Snape. He then stood to mark the official end of breakfast, emptied his cup and wished the student body a day of positive learning. Then he tapped both McGonagall and Snape on the shoulder on his way out. "Please, read this thing will you? Bring me your thoughts before dinnertime. I'll be in my office for the time being. Oh, and Minerva, remind your Prefects that students need to be excused before leaving the table." McGonagall looked aghast and Snape turned his eyes away before his fellow had the chance to notice him gloating.
Snape didn't have classes until late morning. He had planned on using the time to advance-prepare a potion, but instead took the brochure for studying into his dungeon office. He wanted to get familiar with the content before meeting with Dumbledore, in particular, he wanted to analyse it to see if there were any obvious holes or sophistry in the text.
Wading through paragraphs of bureaucratic corporate-speak, he started to feel bored and irritated in equal measure. There was plenty of propaganda about audits being a mechanism of enhanced performance and productivity for Britain, of a standard being necessary to maintain quality of service and delivery and so on. When it discussed learning institutions, it wittered on about the necessity of Britain's educated remaining world-class and upholding its historic legacy. Snape had to check whether the publication had actually been written by and for the wizarding community, it carried such overt Muggle overtones. He was somewhat regretful when he was able to confirm that it was indeed the publication of their own Ministry.
About two-thirds in, it finally got to several pages of procedure, explaining how the audits would be conducted, and what findings would be sought. Snape forced his mind to concentrate. It would appear that Hogwarts could have a say in when the audit would commence, aside from that, there was very little control over the process. The Ministry set the criteria, the Ministry assigned the auditors, the auditors gathered the evidence and determined whether the evidence was substantive. The auditors would cooperate with Hogwarts staff on how and where the evidence could be obtained, but it would not call the process complete before efforts had been made to procure all the evidence it required.
The criteria, Snape read, were based on the industry type. This allowed him to skip several pages covering the likes of medical, correctional, policing and environmental categories until he reached the education sector. He sat up a little straighter, his loyalty to his profession putting him on the defensive before he'd even begun to read. What were a bunch of policy-wonks going to tell Hogwarts about the business of education? They'd been in continuous operation for over a thousand years, what could they possibly have to say that would be of even the slightest value (Snape had often privately tried out the maths on this alleged antiquity and couldn't make it work, was it literally a thousand years old?)
The guidelines stipulated that educational institutions would be assessed across seven categories: finance, licensing and regulations, staffing and teacher performance, curriculum, facilities and property, student attendance and performance, student wellbeing. Is that all? scoffed Snape. Then he ascertained that under each category were up to twenty criteria against which Hogwarts would be required to demonstrate their level of compliance on a scale. This made him pause a little. Pointless it all may be, but it was going to be an onerous and aggravating brand of pointless to boot. And apparently non-negotiable. All the propaganda was a half-hearted attempt at sugar to make the medicine go down.
Snape sat back heavily in his chair and flicked the document idly on his desk. He didn't discover any immediate loopholes or weak links in the process other than the glaringly obvious futility of it. The overall grading Hogwarts would eventually receive ostensibly would reflect their operations, but surely a useless bunch of auditors would also have a bearing? Would they know anything about running a school? How would they be able to tell if the curriculum at Hogwarts was good, bad or indifferent? And as for student wellbeing…would they ask the students? Merlin knows what the current medley of so-called scholars would divulge, particularly with nothing short of murder and mayhem rampant in every corridor. Death Eaters, Dementors, monsters, near-fatalities – you name it, even Snape had to admit these were hardly the hallowed halls of high academia.
Would it be possible to simply employ a Memory Charm on any auditor who happened to hear too much? Snape wondered, easily imagining himself murmuring the spell from a discrete distance, directed at any wide-eyed, open-mouthed overly-conscientious auditor who'd just been interrogating a Weasley.
Rubbing his furrowed brow, he conceded he had no brilliant solution to this problem to present to Dumbledore just yet. He slammed shut the volume, making the pictures spin, and got up to prepare for his class in fifteen minutes.
As it happened, the next class was third form – Potter and co. He groaned inwardly - the day just got better and better. What infractions and infringements was he going to have to ignore today. The insufferable idiot didn't seem to have even cottoned-on that Snape was muzzled, it didn't bear thinking about what classes would be like once it dawned on him. As he swept the walkways towards the temporary classroom (his dungeon was being pest-managed by Filch: a procedure that involved releasing several snarks into an enclosed space where mice and other undesirables where known to reside. Snarks were able to differentiate between a familiar and common pest), he saw his usual class of Gryffindors and Slytherins gathered outside the door, Potter among them. He brushed past the students and entered the room with his customary floridity, positioning himself up at the front lectern and eyeing the students acerbically until they were seated.
Why did it take them so long? Why did their limbs seem to be filled with concrete that they were unable move swiftly and decisively? Why did the act of finding their books seem to confound them? Why could they not stop chattering with each other, even though they'd just been chattering, presumably, for the last fifteen minutes? Were their lives so impressively action-packed that they must impart everything to each other continuously? His irritation mounted. "Quiet," he said, with no reaction whatsoever. "Quiet!" he said louder.
He eyed Potter, who actually was sitting, waiting. "What class have you just come from?" he asked.
"Transfiguration, sir," replied Potter, looking slightly surprised.
McGonagall. She was losing her touch. Look at the state of the class – as if she'd just fed them each a packet of Every Flavoured Beans.
"And what were you transfiguring? Clowns? Fireworks? Chocolate factories?"
Potter looked utterly confused. "No sir-,"
"QUIET" to the class. "For the last time, pay attention! The next person who speaks gets detention. That is ten – no fifteen – minutes of this class wasted and you will all make it up during lunch, do I make myself clear?"
Silence now. As ever, he had to be the enforcer.
"You will recall, I presume, from my last class with you that you were required to research – and bring with you today – an ingredient that will prolong the shelf-life of the Blood Replenishing potion. If your ingredient not only prolongs shelf-life, but also enhances the effect of the potion – and one such ingredient does in fact exist – you will attain full marks. If you have only identified a shelf-life ingredient, then that is equivalent to 75%, assuming you are able to make the potion correctly. GARLAND! PUT THAT AWAY! Finally, if you were unable to research and or procure the ingredient, you will fail. Am I quite clear?"
"Yes, sir," said the class in a dirge-like unison.
"You have the next five minutes to retrieve your ingredient, label it correctly in the Latin, and place it on the desk in front of you. Then prepare your cauldrons, we won't have time to finish the entire potion today, but I intend to see all the constituents of the potion, prepared correctly prior to a brewing. You may begin. Yes, Master Weasley?"
"Sir, what does constituent mean?"
"Parts, boy. The ingredients. Avail yourself of a dictionary."
The class continued to stare at him. He sighed inside. "Begin!" He magicked the instructions up on the board, conscious of the limited memories of his students.
Rumblings as students began rummaging around in backpacks, dragging cauldrons around, flipping through the pages of their texts. Snape went to his desk and tried to block it out. Not being in his own dungeon, he hadn't brought coursework to process, only the texts for this class and a later one. He feigned an intense interest in reading the manual while discreetly watching the students at work.
The prize-winning ingredient for this potion was shoelace weed, in fact a form of algae that tended towards long strings when left to hang from the ceilings of dank caves or similar environments. There was a chamber deep in the bowels of the castle that had grown some prized lengths, and the Hogwarts store of Blood Replenisher was of an exceptional standard. Much was sent to Mungo's to supplement their stocks, as otherwise the algae had to be sourced from French caves at greater cost. Anybody who had bothered to read Hogwarts; a History would know this. The properties of the algae that allowed it to bond in a linear fashion were what chemically transformed into a preservative, when mixed at the correct temperature with rosehip and muskrat oil. Shoelace that was of a greater age, and therefore more potent, had the additional advantage of healing qualities, particularly the damaged liver.
Predictably, the Granger girl had some fine strands. She was busy producing a label in the Latin, having laid her shoelace weed on silver paper along the top of her desk. Even from where he was sitting, Snape could tell that it was of good quality and that he would be expecting a finished potion from her by the end of the week. It would not do to waste it. His black eyes slid sideways to her companions, Weasley and Potter. Weasley at least was busy trying to lay out some weed, but it stuck awkwardly to the paper and the weed was starting to dry out and shrivel.
He then observed that Potter had yet to start. He was frantically searching the innards of his rucksack and looking desperate. Snape arose from his desk, straightened the lapels of his cloak, and advanced towards him. "Problem, Mr Potter?"
Harry's internal wince was visible. He put the rucksack down, straightened and met the cold eyes of his Professor. "I can't find my ingredient. I know what it was, I researched it and I found some. But it's gone. It was in my rucksack this morning, I put it in there myself."
A likely story. Snape's raised brow informed Potter of his deep skepticism. "Indeed. Are you quite sure it was the right ingredient? Not something else, something that has legs and moves perhaps?"
Potter rolled his eyes, a little boldly, and Snape felt his hackles rising. "Sir, I know what the ingredient is. Can I just tell you it, and where I found it? Would that count?"
A snicker was heard from the front row filled with Slytherins. Malfoy, his arm bandaged, had turned to watch.
"I do see your point, Potter," said Snape. "It's not that I'm actually trying to teach you how to brew potions. Apparently, all I need to see is that you can read a page of textbook before class. So yes, why don't you tell me the name of the ingredient that you seem to think you found."
Harry was well attuned to Snape's mannerisms and tones. He recognized immediately where this was headed and he didn't want a battle today. He looked down at his desk. The sniggering at the Slytherin table continued and Snape growled at them to stop, then turned back to Harry. "Well?"
"Sir, it's called Shoelace Weed. It grows in these long strings, but it's very delicate, it can't be left in the sun – "
"Where do you find it?"
"Caves, sir. Dark, wet places where it can grow from the ceiling."
"The Latin for it?"
"Ligaminis Inutilis, sir."
Hermione had been listening closely, and at this juncture interrupted. "Professor Snape, sir? I can promise you that he did have some of the ingredient. We were together to harvest it."
"Thank you Granger, I don't remember asking you," snapped back Snape.
"I know sir, but –"
"You have spelt Ligaminis incorrectly."
Horrified, she seized her label and examined it closely.
Snape considered Potter for a moment. He did in fact believe that the boy had found the herb and he also believed that it had somehow gotten lost. But he couldn't tolerate the carelessness. It was a passive-aggressive act of contempt at his class, his subject. And again, negligence with school property, if he and Granger had harvested from the chamber which he strongly suspected they had, looking at the girl's sample.
"You have failed this lesson, Potter. I did mention last week that this was worth fifteen per cent."
He expected some kind of protest, but Potter uttered something under his breath and sat dejectedly on his stool, head hung. Snape regarded this with concealed surprise – James Potter would have hotly contested the decision, anything to attract attention – but Snape couldn't tell if Harry was being dignified or simply resigned.
He didn't comment further but continued his stroll around the classroom, examining the student's efforts. "I would expect to see all the other ingredients on the table by now. You should have them prepared…No, Mirfield, if the horn hasn't been ground it does not count – you couldn't very well add it whole could you…Leave your work on your desks for me to grade."
Presently the bell rang and the students gathered their things and began to exit. Snape wandered amongst the desks, marking in his grade-book the display of pre-potion from each student, occasionally tutting, and picking up an ingredient to scrutinize.
He paused at the sound of shouting not far from the classroom entrance. He couldn't make out the words, but recognized the tone as heated, vehement. Putting down his book and quill, he hastened towards the sound of the altercation, and found Potter and Malfoy challenging each other with wands aloft, Malfoy grinning spitefully and backed by his two goons, Potter alone with a furious expression on his flushed face.
"What on earth is going on here," growled Snape, and using his own wand, swiftly expelled theirs.
"Sir, he attacked -!" cried Malfoy, and at the same time, Potter shouted: "He stole my Shoelace weed! He took it out of my rucksack!"
"Is this true, Malfoy?"
"Of course not sir. He's just piss-, sorry, angry because he failed the class."
"He's just been egging me about it!" Potter burst out. "He showed it to me, he's still got it, look!"
"Where?"
"I don't sir-"
But Harry lunged at Malfoy and tore at the boy's own rucksack, which, being slung over the shoulder of Malfoy's bandaged arm, slipped off easily. He threw it at Snape. "Look in there, you'll find it. In the silver paper."
Snape bore his eyes into Harry warningly, and frowned at Malfoy. Then he opened the rucksack and saw within it immediately the sheen of silver wrapping. He drew it out and, placing the bag on the ground, slowly opened the silver to reveal a healthy strand of Shoelace. He all but rolled his eyes; why did Malfoy seem intent on undoing everything Snape was building for him? He was making it very difficult to help him.
"That's mine sir," said Malfoy immediately.
"Then why is it in your rucksack? Why isn't it with your display, in class?"
"I had extra sir. That's mine."
"But this example is far superior to the one you used. I've just graded your work. This sample is darker in colour, clearly has more maturity. You've made a poor selection, if it is indeed yours."
"Sorry sir, I should have been more careful –"
"It's not his! I can tell you where that's from," Potter shouted.
Snape flashed at him, doubly irritated that he had been cornered into castigating a Slytherin. "Control yourself, Potter! If this is yours then you should have been more careful with it! I know exactly where this sample is from, and it is considered valuable property of the School. You have been negligent."
"You're joking?! He stole it from me – that was for the assignment -,"
"Do I look as if I'm joking?"
Potter's frustration got the better of him and he rammed the heel of his palm to his forehead, guttural noises escaping his clenched teeth.
"And dueling in the corridors? These wands are confiscated. You can collect them when you have completed detention. Both of you in my office this evening at 8pm."
Draco looked appalled and Crabbe and Goyle made noises of objection but Snape silenced them with an upraised hand.
"Sir, I need the wand for Charms class after lunch," stated Harry with urgency.
"Well then you can explain to Professor Flitwick why you do not have your wand, and obtain a substitute. He will have some."
"What if I need to go outside? What about the…the Dementors?"
Snape glared at Potter in disbelief. "Then the answer is inexcusably simple, Potter. Tell me, what do you think the solution is to that particular concern?"
"Don't go outside," muttered Potter, wishing he'd kept his mouth shut.
"Do you think it might be possible for you to restrain your impulses for even a few hours?" Snape added. "I know you think the school rules don't apply to you, but I have it on good authority that you've been instructed to stay away from the Dementors, with or without a wand, and so the prospect of wandering the school grounds should not be of consequence. I hope I've made myself perfectly clear on this. You too, Malfoy."
"Yes sir."
"Dismissed. Go for your lunch."
Snape watched the four boys leave towards the Great Hall, glowering at each other. He tapped their confiscated wands impatiently against his leg waiting to see them get out of sight and wondered what in the wizarding world he was going to have them do in a twin detention. There was yet another evening gone.