Draco sits at the Slytherin table, poking at the food on his plate and gazing at his bedraggled Head of House. Professor Snape is normally either punctual or absent. And when Snape slouches in halfway through breakfast, Draco realizes something is wrong. Unfortunately, Crabbe and Goyle are less than intelligent and unusable for anything requiring thought. Draco doesn't usually feel the need for conversation, but if Snape is feeling under the weather, than Draco's father will expect to be informed by his son before hearing it from other sources. That being the reason Draco is at Hogwarts rather than any other school.
Of course, recent events and certain paper distributions have seriously jeopardized his family. It wasn't bad enough that the stories describe explicitly unflattering scenes, but the heavy implication of the Malfoy allegiance with Voldemort was turning unwanted attentions to the family. Draco had sent off a copy of one of the worst (in both respects) to his father the day they appeared. It has been three days since then. Malfoy Sr. should be sending a reply soon. One of the Malfoy family over-bred owls swoops gracefully over the Slytherin table and precisely delivers a letter to the area between Draco's plate and the platters of food.
Draco picks up the letter and looks at the seal. As he expected, from his father. Draco puts the letter in his robe and nods for his grunts to follow him to a safe place to open the letter. Not that Draco's father would write anything incriminating in a letter to his son at school, but everyone is hypersensitive now due to the distributed fictions.
Draco read the letter quickly, then quietly Incendio-ed it to dust. Brushing his fingertips Draco sighs. As he had expected, his father wants more information. And unfortunately for Draco, the only person… what was it? Having "reaction speeds" better than "petrified dragon skulls"? Leave it to the Potions Master to have such an analogy. They only other person to see… something… is Potter. Draco grimaces. Meanwhile Lucious will be looking into the traitor allegations in the stories. They might be the whimsy of a bored creature, but that does not allow them to be disregarded.
* * *
Harry is on his way to Divinations with Ron. Late as usual. Draco stands in the middle of the corridor, blocking their way with wand out. "Malfoy! Move now!" Ron growls as he points his own wand at Draco.
"Think you can cast the spell on the right person this time? Though it's not a sure thing with that second hand wand."
"I've learned a few new spells, Malfoy. We found a spell you are familiar with. Transfiguration into a ferret?" Ron replies nastily.
Draco pales slightly. "I don't want you, Weasly. I need Potter." He looks slightly ill. "I wish to speak with Potter." He corrects hastily.
Ron chooses to let that topic be ignored. Harry gestures to Draco's wand. "Funny way to talk to someone." Draco and Ron put their wands away warily.
Draco shrugs. "I need to know more about the thing following Professor Snape."
"Why are you talking to me about it?"
"You are the only one who saw it. Besides me." Draco rethinks his idea. Not even for his father… "Obviously you are too incompetent to be of any use."
Harry and Ron glare at Draco. He swirls around and begins to stalk off. "Not good to show your back to us, Malfoy."
"I am not that stupid, Weasly." Draco says back still turned.
"What is it?"
"Never mind, Potter. I was obviously in error to think that you were intelligent." Draco stalks off leaving a fuming Ron and a pensive Harry in his wake, both no longer thinking at all about their tardiness to Divinations.
* * *
I am in the dining hall. No one seems to have noticed me. I am tucked out of sight behind some sculptural elements. Dumbledore seems to be absent. I am feeling quite into the dream. I think that I might be able to pull off a transformation. Because, of course, I am Dumbledore. I grin and stroke my long snowy beard with my gnarled hand.
I float backwards through the wall and reenter the hall through the mundane… er… designated door. I walk over to the table and sit down at Dumbledore's place. Oh, the possibilities. I look up at the ceiling. It is raining. I miss not hearing the drops hit the ground. The food looks good, though. Perhaps I can taste, tonight.
"Headmaster! I thought that you were visiting the ministry today." Ah. I think as the teacher looks at me, puzzled. I have no idea who she is. Silly WB for not publishing more movies.
I decide to be flamboyant. "Well, my dear, the Ministry was having a drunken orgy. I felt… unable to perform. I hear Muggles have a pill to help with that, though. You want to help me test it?" Wait a minute… I'm Dumbledore. Ewww…. I think Professor I-don't-know-her-name is probably traumatized for life.
"Albus!" Now her, I do recognize. Minerva looks quite put off. Hmm. Perhaps Dumbledore is a dirty old man. Women on either side! Well, I don't want to blow my cover just yet.
"Sorry, Minerva. I was just kidding. In fact, the meeting took much less time than expected." She still looks suspicious. And on my other side, I think shock has set in. I feel a tap on my shoulder and I turn around to see black. Looking up I gleefully recognize the agitated Potions Master. "Severus." I greet.
"Headmaster, if I may speak with you privately at your convenience."
Oh well. Restraint is for the conscious. "Oh, Severus. We've been over this…" He looks confused. "This is about your problem, isn't it?"
To my surprise, the answer is affirmative. "Yes, Headmaster. We have an appointment later tonight, but since you are back so soon…" Eh? What problem could Sev be having?
"You should eat some of this food, Severus. You are too thin, anyway. You insult our house elves."
Snape frowns. Rather, Snape frowns more deeply. "I am not hungry."
"Nonsense." Must resist… must resist… who am I kidding? "Poor Sevvie-wevvie needs to eat. He needs to keep his widdle stwenth up." I see a storm brewing. Maybe a little bit of a push and we'll have a thunderstorm. I think he really hates baby-talk. Though, I must admit, I'm in agreement. Perhaps this is a little below the belt. Actually, probably more above the belt. "Mustn't neglect our tum-tums!" I reach up and pat Snape's belly. I see his eyes flash. Suddenly there is a wand right between my eyes. "Now, now, don't be hasty."
"You…you… Dumbledore!" Snape is so irate he can't seem to string a complete sentence together. I feel that perhaps the gig is up. I pull my right eyelid down with the corresponding pointer finger and stick my tongue out. Suddenly my view shifts abruptly and I feel the need to peck the ground.
McGonagall's abrupt movement as she whips out her own wand sends me fleeing under the table. I dodge around robed legs squawking hysterically. "Severus! You changed the Headmaster into a chicken!"
"I did no such thing. And that is not the Headmaster."
"You're right! It's a chicken." I see the hands too late. I am brought up above the table to look into kind eyes over an out-of-control beard.
"Well, Professor Dumbl'dor, sir. You make a right pretty chicken." My, what big eyes you have! My chickeny jerking brings McGonagall into my field of vision.
"Oh, Albus. We'll have you back to yourself soon." A wand is pointed at me again. Annoyingly, I can only look at it with one eye. I make myself quite dizzy switching between eyes. "Finitum Incantatum!" Nothing happens. McGonagall looks quite intrigued. I meanwhile am wondering if chickens can puke. I feel quite ill. Whether this is due to the spell or the continued movement of my head I'm unsure. A lot of Latin passes over my head figuratively and literally. Perhaps I should have kept that up. "Reddo exemplar instar [1]" I feel like my spine has turned into a rubber band. Not in a lack of strength, but rather in that I jerked out of the chicken form with a motion rather like snapping elastic. The force flings me out of Hagrid's hands and over into someone a neighbor's lap.
I look up into the extraordinary eyes of Madame Hooch. "I always wanted eyes like yours." I address the startled flight instructor.
"I told you it wasn't Dumbledore! That is the female that has been haunting me." I hear Snape's triumphant voice over the troubled murmurings.
I suppose the gig is up, then. I float upward off Hooch's lap. I note that I am back to being myself. Down to the green plaid flannel pants and black and blue polka dot shirt. I note Severus' quirked eyebrow. Well, sleeping wear isn't supposed to match. He should know, he's seen most of it. "Albus?" Minerva asks dubiously.
"Well, no." I look around. Everyone in the entire hall is looking at me, professors, staff, students and Mrs. Norris. All those eyes are rather intimidating. What was it that everyone says to do? Right, underwear. As I think it, a rush of brightness sweeps the hall. I choke as I see everyone in their intimates. I look over at Snape and confirm- boxers. I howl with laughter and thrash wildly, unable to control my mirth. I wake up with an oof as I hit the floor.
* * *
Draco watches the drama at the teacher's table with interest. If Snape actually attacks Dumbledore his loyalty will no longer be in question. However, his sanity might. A few seconds later, Draco blinks rapidly in an attempt to comprehend. He immediately recognizes the female floating in the air, however. Half-remembered impressions spring back to life as he notes that I have changed clothes but not themes. Cow spots to polka dots. It was a waste to talk to Potter. Draco's thoughts are interrupted by the explosion of laughter and my subsequent disappearance. He is utterly confused until he realizes why he suddenly got much cooler. Even his near naked state does not damper his enjoyment once the screaming begins.
All the boys laugh and taunt as most of the younger girls and some of the older race back to their dorms, arms crossed over their breasts. They are followed by a few guys as well. Laughter follows the unlucky nudes out the door. For once Draco wishes that he is a Griffindor as he watches Collin Creevy snapping pictures of the fleeing droves. Not a good day to hang loose!
[1]reddo- to give back, restore, return; answer, translate, render, to repeat, recite, represent, imitate, pay up, deliver.
exemplar: model, pattern, original, prototype, book to copy.
instar: a form, figure, after the fashion of, like.
My Latin be quite rusty, but I think this works. ^^;; Attempting "Return to original form" Translation from