Chapter 2 – Recipe for Disaster
Professor Snape stormed up the spiral staircase that led from his dungeon chamber to the ground floor. His brisk walk almost became a flight as he tried to hurry without looking suspicious in front of any of the students. A corridor took him past his old Potions class and he stopped for a moment to look through the window.
He was stood there, scolding Harry Potter on his first day of Hogwarts. 'Clearly, fame isn't everything is it?' He questioned the insolent child with his gentle monotone voice. His cold black eyes stared straight into the green as he strengthened his image.
Snape was usually good at controlling his thoughts, but this one moment, this one miniscule second of allowing him to indulge into a flashback of his life. This was the moment that made sure that he forgot the shopping list that he had prepared the night before.
The Hogwarts headmaster had made his way to the foyer before the entrance to the school when he was attracted to a large commotion. A group of students were stood in a circle apparently around somebody who had fainted.
'Don't we all have lessons to be attending?' Snape said as he aimed to glare disgustedly at every single student in the crowd.
All of the students stood watching their headmaster awkwardly. It was New Year's Eve and the middle of the school Christmas holiday period. They all wanted to correct the dark-robed villain; however none of them had nearly enough courage to challenge him.
'Potter would have said something,' Snape muttered under his breath as a tear came to his cold black eyes. He stormed through the crowd of students and even tripped up a few times. Once he had fought his way to the middle, he saw what everybody was on about.
Professor Slughorn was laid on the floor asleep. His sleeping face smiled as he uttered the names of some of the students that he had collected. 'Regulus Black,' then came a loud snore, 'Lily Evans,' followed by another one, 'the wannabe, Severus Snape,' which was followed by a snore so loud that he woke himself up.
'Err, professor?' Snape spoke awkwardly as he imitated the voice of Alan Rickman.
'Oho, Severus,' Slughorn smiled as he looked up at the concerned teacher. 'I was just having a wonderful dream about you, y'know.'
'Yes, I heard…the wannabe?' Snape quoted.
'Did I really say that?' Slughorn looked around in amazement. His smile increased as he noticed that some of the surrounding students laughed.
Snape's pale face was immediately painted with a splash of red. Realising the embarrassment that had swarmed over him, he addressed the crowd. 'All students please return to your common rooms! If I see anyone lurking these hallways in thirty seconds then I might just ask the Dark Lord himself to kill a few of you!'
'Milord, are you okay?' Wormtail asked in astonishment. As he rose to his feet and clasped his hands together he peered down at Voldemort. The Dark Lord had randomly collapsed at the foot of his bed whilst making the sheets.
'Blasphemy,' Voldemort shuddered as he stumbled to his feet. 'When will that Snape child realise that he cannot threaten people with my ability to kill…' Voldemort sank to the floor once more. He then produced a word that was stronger than any curse he had ever cast – a swear word.
Professor Snape recovered his arm with the sleeve of his robe after warding off all of the students with his Dark Mark. Having Death Eaters running the school meant that Lord Voldemort had become a sacred symbol and was not to be tampered with.
Slughorn, by this point, had dozed off to sleep once more. As he began to enter his trance of student names, the potions teacher was rudely awakened by a foot to the chest. 'Hmm, oh yes, Severus? You need help with your assignment?'
'Don't make me give you the sack,' Snape spoke like a snake, if a snake could talk that is, leaving awkward pauses between every other word.
'Sorry, Headmaster,' Slughorn realised just where he was. He rose to his feet and brushed the dust off of his jacket – which caused Snape to sneeze. 'Well bless you!'
'Don't,' Snape said simply but harshly as he held a finger before his lips. 'The question is, Professor, what were you doing sleeping on the foyer floor?' He cocked an eyebrow as if he anticipated a smarmy remark.
'Pixies invaded my chamber, sir. They wouldn't let me sleep.' Slughorn's eyes begged with desperation. 'I don't suppose you'd have let me top and tail with you, eh, Severus?' He chuckled weakly.
'Actually you could have…' Snape spoke without any sarcasm for probably the first time in his life. 'More to the point, you shouldn't have challenged my threat – I did say I would put pixies in your bed if you stroked my hair once more…'
'But we all know that you meant the other kind,' Slughorn trembled as he tried to joke with Snape. 'You know…I thought it meant that you'd put me in the mood for, err…'
'Stop right there!' Snape grimaced has he realised the sexual ambiguity behind his threat. 'Anyway, I can't stop to chat. I've got an important…celebration to attend.'
As Professor Snape made his way through the front doors of Hogwarts, his cloak flowed behind him elegantly. Slughorn, who was ridden with shame and nerves raised his hand up to his chest and waved slowly at his disappearing colleague. He shook one last time as the doors banged shut.
Professor Slughorn was just about to curl up on the floor again once more when the doors were kicked open. Expecting an intruder, he jumped to his feet and drew his wand from his belt. He soon saw though, that Severus Snape had returned…
'I forgot my broom…' Snape spoke quietly as he kept his head down.
Slughorn chose not to say anything, and little did he know, that he had just saved his own life.
The kitchen of Malfoy Manor was a large room near the rear of the estate. Tall, patterned glass looked out onto the private patio where many family receptions had been held in the summer nights. At this time of year, most of the ornamental furniture was glazed with a coating of hard frost and was consequently unpractical for the Dark Lord's birthday.
The room was tiled with a series of dull linoleum tiles. The walls too were bare, but the kitchen countertops and wall hangings brightened the room with a green and silver glow. The taps on the extravagant sinks were sculpted into the heads of snakes, as were the handles on the drawers, and the knobs on the stoves. Come to think of it, so was everything else. On the fridge was a selection of magnets that held in place drawings that Draco had completed of his parents. The wax crayon drawings looked like something that a five year old could produce, but it was obvious to everyone that at the bottom the signature said: Draco Malfoy, 17.
Against the wall of the windows was a long, small in height, wooden table. A vibrant coloured paper table cloth lay over it to announce the table as the buffet table. A wide selection of savoury snacks lined the table, but at the moment most of the plates were covered in cling film to prevent peckish hands from picking at the cocktail sausages, or the pork pie, or the scotch eggs – which were highly popular amongst one certain witch.
Narcissa strode into the kitchen in a matter of urgency. Everything was as she left it, good. She had dismissed the rest of the helping hands at least half an hour ago. It was half eleven now, and the Dark Lord would be allowed to descend the stairs when the clock struck noon. As she paced around the kitchen, she took a deep breath, drew out her wand, and prepared to enchant the buffet table in order to levitate it through to the board room.
Her hand shook a little as she squinted her eyes with concentration. 'Wingardium…'
'Hello,' a high pitch voice squeaked from behind her.
Narcissa turned around at once. To her surprise, an unexpected visitor had appeared at just the wrong time. 'What do you want, cretin?'
Stood on the kitchen countertop was the one thing that the Mafloys had never wanted to come across again. The familiar tennis ball eyes bulged out with a facetious stare; it made a change from pitiful. The large eared creature leant forward as he looked warmly into Narcissa's gaze. His thin fingers rubbed the fabric of his grubby pillowcase-vest. Dobby the House-elf had returned to his room of service.
'Dobby sees that Mr. Malfoy has appointed his mistress the maid of the kitchen. Isn't that awful?' The House-elf chuckled heartily at the woman he used to serve.
'How dare you speak to me like that,' Narcissa pointed her wand at Dobby's throat and gritted her teeth, 'We still have the stove,' the tip of her wand pointed to the subject, 'or the refrigerator…just in case you decided that you missed your favourite punishments.'
'Dobby could never miss such days consisting of extortionate heat and freezing cold.' Dobby spoke confidently as he tried to back his head away from wandpoint.
'But you used to punish yourself so frequently, you loved it!' Narcissa exclaimed, wanting to know why Dobby had had a sudden change of heart.
'Only because you would have put me through much worse,' Dobby argued back to the woman who he used to fear. He ran along the countertop and stopped at the other end. Leaning over the edge he pulled out a pair of large scissors. He tried to prise the metallic sheers open but simply couldn't due to the amount of glue that they were caked in. 'Draco still likes his crafts then?' Dobby tossed the scissors back into the draw as he rummaged for more.
'Did you just insult my son?' Narcissa's disgusted tone had already peaked, henceforth her questioning no longer scared Dobby. 'Avada Kedavra!'
Dobby had managed to get a hold of some working scissors just in time. As he looked back up at Narcissa he noticed the green jet of light that her wand had produced. Instinctively, the House-Elf clicked his fingers once and vanished into thin air.
'He took my best pair!' Narcissa screeched as she watched her killing curse soak into the kitchen wall.
'Hello again,' Dobby's chirpy voice had returned. He had apparated himself onto the buffet table where he looked down at the entire collection of well prepared savoury snacks. His eyes gleamed as he opened the scissors – a hand on each handle. He gently prodded the sharp point of the scissors into the cling film that covered one of the plates.
Narcissa watched in astonishment as the child like House-Elf cut through all of the cling film that was preserving the food. Not knowing how to react she sent a few weak stunning spells into the walls and ceiling. Forcing herself to refocus, she concentrated her aim on Dobby.
As he dodged the lethal sparks of light, Dobby grabbed for a large porcelain plate which he held before him. In doing this, he had emptied the plate of its contents; and now as a consequence, Dobby was stood in a mountain of sausage rolls.
The savoury snacks were baked very nicely, and the Slytherin coat of arms had been engraved into the pastry of each individual sausage roll. Dobby took a moment to appreciate the hard work that had clearly gone into this food preparation but then decided he'd have to retaliate. The cheeky elf held the plate in his left hand so that he still had a shield, but with his free right hand he leant down and firmly grasped onto the greasy delight that was the sausage roll. Then after clenching it tightly in his fist, he launched it into the air and across the kitchen.
This battle strategy continued until the sausage rolls were no more. As Dobby flung them toward Narcissa, she fired spells which collided with the buffet snacks; sending tiny chunks of meat flying across the kitchen along with flakes of crispy pastry.
Dobby considered moving on to the plate of pork pie slices, but after evaluating his food fighting regime, he simply picked one up and began eating. He knew that Narcissa would be able to combat all of the food that he sent her way.
In one last desperate attempt, Dobby threw the porcelain plate across the kitchen like a Frisbee in a park. He watched carefully as it headed towards Mrs. Malfoy. She had once more produced a spell that would destroy the plate, and this is where Dobby became clever.
Just before the plate and the spell clashed, Dobby clicked his fingers which made the plate explode of its own accord with small flames. One of the tiny flames managed to spread to the jet of light that was the spell and in doing so the spell became so much stronger. This caused a massive mid-air explosion to take place in the centre of the kitchen. The strong walls cracked and the buffet table was slammed against the tall windows.
'My kitchen!' Narcissa explained as she waved a cloud of smoke away from her face. As she looked in horror at the damage that had been done, her gaze searched for Dobby…but he had already apparated.