Author's note: This story was only supposed to be a one-shot, but the characters had other ideas. (Funny how that happens sometimes.) That being said, I am not promising more chapters, although it isn't out of the question. Please review!
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Misery and Mayhem
"You must understand, I had no choice."
"We always have a choice," Severus replied stonily. "You have given a top-secret task to three children, who are Gryffindors to boot; Gryffindors are not exactly known for their subtlety, especially not those particular three. Not only that, but Potter is currently the most wanted person in all of wizarding Britain. The Dark Lord has scores of Death Eaters out searching for him. He has even placed bystanders under the Imperius Curse to further the hunt. The children are on a suicide mission, Albus, a suicide mission. What, pray tell, do you propose we do if Wonder Boy"—he sneered—"gets himself killed before his time?"
Severus paced the floor in front of the desk, his hands clasped behind his back, his shoulders tense. He had been doing that a lot lately.
"All three of them are seventeen," Dumbledore pointed out mildly, completely disregarding the majority of the Potions Master's tirade. "They are of age."
"They are children," Severus repeated forcefully. Thankfully, he always maintained a Silencing Spell around his office when he was alone. His shouting would have otherwise carried to the opposite end of the castle.
Dumbledore attempted the placate the younger man: "Of course, my boy, now calm down. All you need to concern yourself with is getting the Sword to Harry."
"Do not patronize me!" Severus spat. He continued angrily with, "And how am I supposed to deliver the Sword to Potter when nobody knows where it is that he has run off to?"
"I can acquire that information."
He stopped pacing. As per usual, most of the portraits were pretending to be asleep—although it was obvious that they were listening attentively to the altercation—but the form of Phineas Nigellus was staring at Severus from his silver frame.
"Oh?" Severus raised an eyebrow. "That is quite a claim."
The painting gave Severus a haughty look. "The Mudblood-"
"Do not use that word!"
"Fine," Phineas huffed, "the Granger girl. She removed my portrait from Grimmauld Place and is carting it around with her. She dumped it into a bag with an assortment of junk; it is quite undignified."
"Wonderful, wonderful!" Dumbledore exclaimed brightly, ignoring Phineas's complaints of wounded pride.
Severus resumed pacing as he considered this new information. Of course Granger would be the one to do something of that sort. Regardless of anything he may have said in class, the girl did possess a good dash of intelligence, which was more than could be said for the remainder of the so-called Golden Trio. If he were not so concerned about how she intended to use the connection, Severus might have complimented her thinking.
"That which occurs in this office must remain strictly confidential," he said in warning. "It is imperative that nobody knows of my true loyalties. I will not have my secrets spilled due to a carelessly-placed phrase." These words were accompanied by a small pang of regret, but Severus pushed the sensation firmly away; that his cover was crucial to maintain and could be fragile was simply the truth. It was safer if nobody knew—being alone was safer. One would have thought he'd know that by now.
Phineas gave a loud sniff, clearly offended. "I was not born yesterday," he retorted and walked out of view.
Severus had to restrain himself from sighing in exasperation. He shifted his attention back to Dumbledore, whose painted eyes twinkled merrily, just as they had in life.
"You don't have to look so smug," Severus grumbled.
Dumbledore only smiled broadly in response. Then he leaned back and closed his eyes, and Severus knew that he had been dismissed.
In the past, staff meetings were boring at best, but now they were downright miserable. Severus, along with the Carrows, used much of the time to viciously insult whichever students had unfortunately provoked their dislike. Severus then issued veiled—or blatant—threats to anybody who dared oppose him, usually alluding to bodily harm in the most painful manner possible. In addition, he always had to remind the other professors to send mischief-makers to the Carrows for punishment; they seemed reluctant to do so—not that Severus really blamed them. Throughout the whole ordeal, he cast disdainful looks down his nose at the gathered coworkers, all of whom gave him disdainful looks right back.
The only people unaffected by the chilly atmosphere were the Carrows, who looked positively gleeful as they offered reports on the students they had been torturing, or bragged about the Death Eater children who looked set to successfully follow in their parents' footsteps. Severus tried not to roll his eyes as he listened to Amycus recount Crabbe and Goyle's brilliant use of the Cruciatus Curse during the most recent seventh-year Dark Arts class. The two brutes, who had more or less been acting as Draco Malfoy's body guards since their first year, didn't have a brain cell between them. It was no surprise that the sole thing at which they excelled involved nothing more than questionable morals and being inarticulate thugs. Just like their fathers.
This place has gone to hell, Severus thought.
While making his dramatic departure from the staff room, a place he was eager to escape, Severus nearly tripped over Luna Lovegood. He glared at the sixth year, who was sprawled out on the hallway floor, her eyes fixed on the high ceiling. She blinked occasionally to indicate that she was still alive.
"What is the meaning of this?" He demanded.
Miss Lovegood had the nerve to ignore him.
Frustrated, Severus hissed, "Return to a vertical position this instant, or so help me, I will reorient you."
There was a long pause, and then she said dreamily, still staring upwards, "It's easier to observe the Wrackspurts if you're lying down, Professor." She tilted her head slightly to look at the Headmaster with a sincere, if rather vacant, expression on her face. "A swarm of Wrackspurts is following you. You should be careful. They cloud judgement. You can borrow my Spectrespecs if you want. They work even better if you leave them in the ice box for an hour. Just remember to take them out again. See, the colouring in the lenses condenses when exposed to the cold..."
Severus groaned inwardly as she prattled on. Luna Lovegood had always been odd, but this episode seemed over-the-top, even for her. Not to mention that if she had any self-preservation instincts, she clearly was not acting on them. He reached down, taking her by the arms and roughly yanking her to her feet and effectively shushing her. Aware that several teachers were watching the exchange from the staff room door, he whipped out his wand and pointed it in the young Ravenclaw's face.
"Desist from babbling gibberish, and get out of my sight."
She turned and walked away, completely unfazed, and Severus strode back towards his office. As the students liked to whisper, his resemblance to an overgrown bat was uncanny.
The next scene which he came upon made Severus wish that he could down a bottle of Firewhisky right then and there.
"My, my," he said in a low, quiet, and dangerous voice, "you two are facing serious consequences."
Neville Longbottom and Ginerva Weasley, unlike Lovegood, at least had the decency to look guilty and a touch fearful. It served them right, having been caught red-handed in an attempt to steal the Sword of Gryffindor—a copy, but of course, the students weren't aware of that—straight from the Headmaster's office. Severus made a mental note to change the password as soon as possible.
"The Sword of Gryffindor doesn't even belong to you," Longbottom said defiantly. He clutched the object to his chest. Severus wondered when the shy, awkward boy whom he had always bullied had grown a backbone. That was the kind of cheek that Severus would have expected from Potter. "It's not like you have any right to keep it here."
Because the miscreants had their backs turned, they missed the faint smile that danced at the mouth of Dumbledore's supposedly-sleeping portrait. Severus, however, caught the expression, and he was not so entertained. In fact, he was unbelievably tempted to just hand the thieves over for a taste of the Cruciatus. A couple of incapacitated Gryffindors seemed like a small price to pay for not having to personally deal with the mess, although tongue lashings from the portrait of his former mentor and the current Head of Gryffindor House sounded less appealing. Severus would never admit it, but Minerva could still make him feel like a thoroughly-chastised first-year.
"Be silent!" Severus commanded. "You are treading on thin ice. Stealing is a crime, and I have no qualms with expelling both of you—or worse." With that, he cast a silent summoning charm and caught the artifact in his right hand. "Now, if you do not wish for me to hex you into the next century, you will return to your common room. Immediately."
Longbottom, the idiot, actually had the audacity to open his mouth again, no doubt to make some retort that would trigger Severus into carrying out his threat. Luckily for both Headmaster and student, the Weasley girl grabbed Longbottom by the arm and dragged him from the room. Once they were gone, Severus put up a silencing charm and warded the door. He then turned on Dumbledore, who was no longer in faux slumber, and who still looked amused.
"This is not a laughing matter, Albus," he admonished. "I hope you realize that I can't let them get away with such an inexcusable stunt? I cannot protect their sorry necks if they insist on risking them, the reckless brats."
"You do have to admire their bravery," Dumbledore said.
Severus dismissed the comment with a snort. "Bravery, stupidity;"—he waved his hand—"wrapped in red and gold, they are one and the same."
The old Headmaster grew serious again. "Then what will you do?"
Naturally, Severus began pacing. After some deliberation, he said, "I will send the counterfeit Sword to be stored in Bellatrix's vault at Gringotts-"
"Bellatrix?" Dumbledore looked surprised.
"Indeed, Albus," Severus responded with a habitual sneer, "Bellatrix. It will keep her happy, make her think herself important, to be entrusted with such an item. Furthermore, should anybody go looking for the Sword there—and I do not see why anyone would—the security on her vault is as wild as she is; the intruder would likely die a most excruciating death."
"I see." Dumbledore nodded and stroked his beard a few times before pressing, "And what of Mister Longbottom and Miss Weasley?"
"They, along with Miss Lovegood-"
"Luna Lovegood?"
"Luna Lovegood," Severus confirmed impatiently. His voice was heavy with irritation. "I am certain that she was involved with their little scheme. She was tasked with creating a distraction, although it was a rather insubstantial one. Stop interrupting me."
"Of course, my boy." The corner of Dumbledore's mouth twitched. "I apologize."
Severus scowled, but continued, "Mister Longbottom, Miss Weasley, and Miss Lovegood will go into the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid. Merlin knows the place is filled with enough danger to constitute punishment during the most peaceful times. Besides, all three are purebloods; I believe that I can justify sparing them a harsher fate."
As Severus took his seat behind the desk, arranging three sheets of parchment, a quill, and a container of ink in front of him, planning to write a letter to Bellatrix and a couple of detention notes, he grimly wondered what kind of mayhem the students would cause next.
