Chapter 6: Medieval Morning Madness
A loud pop jarred House out of a sound sleep and he groaned as he rubbed his leg out of habit, his eyes snapping open when he realized that it was still pain free.
It hadn't all been a dream, had it?
"Excuse the interruption, Sir," a timid voice said from the foot of the bed, "But the Headmaster wishes to see Sir."
The face that peered up at him had a long, gnarled yet pointy nose, gigantic cornflower blue eyes and a shocking amount of hair jutting out of long, pointy ears as though two ends of a handlebar mustache had been shoved into either side. The face was smooth and lined in a manner that suggested both infancy and great age at the same time. A clean white dish towel was wrapped around the creature's body like a toga, an embroidered H spread across the front.
"What the hell are you supposed to be?" House asked suspiciously, "Some kind of….gnome?"
"I is not dirty, stealing gnome! I serves!" the creature said proudly, "Sir may call Nib by name if it pleases! Nib is proud to call himself a house elf!"
House's memory suddenly flashed back to something that Snape fellow had said the night before.
"You're here to take me to breakfast," House said slowly.
It was not a question.
"Headmaster says that Nib must bring Sir with haste!" Nib said, twisting at his ears with an expression that House supposed might have been anxiety.
"It's your lucky day. I slept in my clothes," House grumbled, pulling himself stiffly out of bed, trying not to look overly happy about the fact that his pain had still not yet returned. He'd had enough experience to know that being optimistic only ever led to being disappointed.
The mattress and pillow had been surprisingly comfortable, though House was not about to tell anyone, much less this odd, slouching creature. And although the room around him was far more medieval than his personal taste would have preferred, the large fireplace and tall, thin windows lent an odd sort of ambiance that was rather impressive. Chancing another sideways look at the house elf, House came to the realization that they quite eerily resembled children with Propecia; young but somehow old at the same time.
"Is Sir ready?" Nib asked cautiously, his bat-like ears fanning up and down nervously in a manner that made House wonder if he was about to lift off and hover in the air.
"I suppose so, yeah," House grumbled, ruffling his hair with one of his hands and running his other hand across his chin to feel the more-than-stubble-but-not-quite-a-beard growth on his face.
Snape didn't look like the sort of man to have stubble anywhere. Was that thanks to magic as well? Did any of these backwards, robe-wearing weirdos even know what a safety razor was, let alone what it did? It was paradoxical to be in a place without any technology more complex than a flushing toilet, yet be witness to abilities that could kill his pervasive pain in a manner that even the Vicadin only dulled down to a manageable level of suffering.
"Sir, please take my hand," Nib said with a hesitant smile that struck House as unnervingly creepy.
"I only hold hands on the second date," House said sardonically, but when Nib's eyes began to fill with tears at his refusal, he finally held out his index finger reluctantly.
"It will be but a moment, Sir," Nib said apologetically, "Nib will do his best to make the journey painless."
"Wait, wha-?!" was all House managed before the world had turned inside out again and for a second time, House felt himself being pulled into darkness with a loud POP.
"Ah, I see that the prodigal physician has deemed us worthy to join for breakfast," came Snape's biting drawl as House opened his eyes in quite the strangest room than he'd ever seen before. Nib dipped low to the floor in a small, polite bow as he dropped House's finger gently. A small pop signalled his disappearance, and it was as though he had never been there.
Curiouser and curiouser.
Allowing himself to stretch to his full height, House took a moment to survey the room that Nib had transported him, ostensibly on Snape's orders. At some point in the recent past, it had obviously been some sort of classroom, as a large desk and chalkboard still stood at the head of the room. Where the desks would have been, however, now stood long tables and benches in four rows that seemed to stretch impossibly outward and House had the uncomfortable sensation that they were far longer than the room they resided within. He looked up and noticed that thousands of candles appeared to be hovering in the air above them all just out of reach, giving the room a hearty glow even as the high tall windows on one side filtered in the harsh morning light. A giant skeleton of something that looked a bit like a dinosaur with wings was suspended from the ceiling by thick black chains. House felt his mouth hang open in awe despite his attempts to hide it.
Showoffs.
He snorted at the thought that they'd done all of this for his benefit, for all he knew it was the way they normally handled breakfasts, but it felt somewhat comforting to be the obvious guest of honor. The sound of quiet conversation and the metallic clicking of utensils fell away to silence as everyone stared at him.
House stared back defiantly with his head held high, raising his hand awkwardly to wave at the more obvious gawking wizards. He became painfully aware that he was the only one wearing jeans and a t-shirt covered with the rather ratty gray sweater he'd grabbed from the floor and pulled over his head as a temporary measure against the chill while he had been waiting for the heater to warm things up before his whole night had taken such an unexpected turn.
But his house was a million miles away now, a distance that as well have been a universe away.
One of the tables held a motley crew of people, including a tall, massive man with an equally massive beard who would have given Andre the Giant pause and a diminutive man with rectangular spectacles who appeared to be sitting on a small painting ladder in order to reach his plate. The young woman with bushy hair who had led them back to the castle the night before was sitting to Snape's right holding a half-eaten piece of toast as she stared at him. This morning, she wore dark emerald green robes that seemed to draw out a bronze sheen to her wild snarls of hair that if anything were even more wild than the night before. House tried to remember her name. Her-something. Like in that Shakespeare play. Hermione. That was it. People here sure didn't seem to have any concept of normal names. She fixed him with a suspicious glare, stuffed the toast in her mouth and crossed her arms in distrust.
House smirked at this. She had the exact same expression that always came across Cameron's face after he suggested some wildly inappropriate treatment that would either cure the patient or kill them dead. Sometimes it did a bit of both, just to make it interesting, and Cameron's face would get that baby-doll eyed look as she pushed herself to solve the case all the while trying futilely to emotionally support everyone around her until she fell apart. Her capacity to love was at once her best and worst quality. House hoped that this Hermione woman would not be a similar pain in his ass, though if she truly was a fan of older men, House had no problem with using that to his advantage. After all, even a doctor has needs.
Snape, on the other hand, carried a bored expression on his face as he locked eyes with the irritable doctor, inclining his head and gesturing slightly with one hand to indicate an open seat on his left. A clean plate and a mug of juice materialized and House rolled his eyes, determined not to appeared amazed by magic.
"Sorry I'm late!" House shouted grumpily, noticing that his leg had begun to twinge softly in time to his heartbeat, "I was too busy with my morning routine, and by morning routine, I mean MASTURBATING!"
At this, Hermione uttered what sounded like a small choked scream and covered her mouth, a bright scarlet blush rising up to her forehead. House smirked evilly. It had worked even more perfectly than he had hoped it would, though no one else's reactions seemed to be nearly as overt. When he looked back at Snape, the man had merely raised an eyebrow as though to silently express his complete lack of shock.
Bastard. Ruining all my fun.
House hobbled around to the open place and sat down with a grunt.
"My leg hurts," he complained.
"Perhaps you should limit any...strenuous activity, then," Snape replied, not looking away from his soft-boiled egg.
"What, like you don't do it?" House shot back, the dirty insinuation clear.
"Unlike you," Snape replied disdainfully, "I tend to find that any private activities that I do or do not engage in are not appropriate conversational topics at the breakfast table. Now, eat your breakfast. You will be enjoying a long, arduous day and I fully intend for you to keep up your end of our deal."
"My leggggggggg!" House whined.
"Very well," Snape grumbled, rolling his eyes and he pulled his wand, cast the spell and went right back to nibbling the white of his egg in one smooth, swift motion.
"Impressive," House said, grabbing some toast from the middle of the table, "You're almost like a surgeon with that thing. Would you ever consider-?"
"No," Snape interrupted, "You don't have the...aptitude...to use a wand, and even if you did, taking another's wand is considered as intimate as grabbing one by the family jewels, if you understand my meaning. A wand's allegiance, much like a wizard's heart, must be won fairly or the results can be...fatal."
"Forget I asked," House said, "If you're going to make it into a dirty sex thing before I can make it into a dirty sex thing to humiliate and irritate you, then there's no way I'm going to want to touch your wand, literally or figuratively."
"Never fear. The feeling is mutual," Snape shot back with a sneer.
"Although," House continued, narrowing his eyes and looking over at Hermione, who was in an animated discussion with the man of incredibly short stature, "I think I could probably suggest a candidate who feels differently about your wand."
"Careful," Snape hissed warningly, "It would be quite a shame if you were to lose your voice again."
They both scarfed down the rest of their meal in silence, and when Snape stood and strode out, House took it as his cue to follow.
"How can you not be hitting that?" House hissed, as he followed Snape through the door into the hallway, "Because I would totally hit that."
"I do not engage in physical abuse, even though I've recently met an abrasive physician who is making me reconsider my stance on violence," Snape replied venomously.
"No, not like actually hit," House sighed, "I mean, like...you know…"
He discreetly made a circle with his thumb and forefinger and then slid his left index finger back and forth through the circle until Snape finally turned to him, the color rising in his face.
"For your information, Dr. House," Snape said quietly, "Miss Granger is my student. She is getting her Mastery in potions as part of her work with Magical Law Enforcement. Though she is a bright and advanced pupil, she is not due to take her final exams at the Ministry until June, but that's only if there still is a Ministry left by June. I don't even know why I'm telling you, suffice to say that it is inappropriate on multiple levels, not to mention that we're in the middle of a bloody epidemic!"
They turned a corner and began to descend down some old stone steps that had been worn smooth by many years of foot traffic. House delighted in being able to keep up with the unrelenting pace set by dark Professor. Without the pain, he felt freer than he had in years, and regardless of the insanity in the past eight hours, he was beginning to feel his sour mood lifting for the first time in years.
And I'm not the only one who needs something to counteract the bile that's built up inside.
"She's got to be at least twenty-five years old, though!" House said loudly as he caught his breath at the foot of the stairs and raised a skeptical eyebrow, "Don't tell me that wizards are so old-fashioned that you all require a ring on your finger before you'll do the deed."
They continued down a long hall and up another flight of stairs, but now it seemed that Snape was keeping to a steady speed that House could easily match, even though he showed no sign of having done so consciously.
"Miss Granger will be twenty-eight in September," Snape said, frowning slightly and turning back to look at House as they slowed down in front of a large stone statue, "But even if she were not my student, she is still far too young. I am...not suitable...for someone as whole and full of joy as she is."
"Screw that logic!" House replied hotly, crossing his arms defiantly, "You'll never be happy if you try and convince yourself that you don't want her just because it's inconvenient or from some misplaced notion of chivalry! You can convince yourself as much as you want that you're doing it for her, but it's not that at all. It's because you are afraid. Because you are terrified that she's not going to feel the same way. And you're even more afraid that she will. Because you know that if you're happy for even one minute, something is going to happen to ruin it and it's probably going to be something you say or do."
Snape did not reply to this. Instead, he turned to look at the statue and made a motion with his hand without drawing his wand. House jumped back in surprise as the creature jumped aside as though it were made of flesh and blood and froze once more to let them pass.
House could not control his curiosity and poked the cool stone as he passed it, jerking his hand back when the stone head turned abruptly, its grey eyes set in shadow, staring at him balefully.
"Face it," House grumbled, trying to recover from his shock as they entered a large room filled from floor to ceiling with paintings, "You're a coward."
Snape whirled, his face contorting in fury.
"You know nothing!" he hissed.
"I've seen how she looks at you, and I've been here less than a day," House replied, unperturbed, "You can keep on denying it, but it's even more obvious than the nose on your face."
"Oh, very pithy. I've certainly never heard that one before," Snape replied sarcastically, crossing his arms, "But as much as I'd simply love to continue talking about my lack of romantic prospects for your amusement, there are more pressing matters for us to attend to at the moment."
"Severus? Who is this?"
The voice had come from somewhere inside of the room. A large, burgundy leather chair was turned away towards the fire and House approached it cautiously.
"What are you doing?" Snape asked, furrowing his brow.
"I like to have a conversation with a person I can see, unless you're suggesting that I'm talking to a ghost," House replied sardonically, reaching the chair in three quick strides.
The chair was empty.
House turned back to face the black-robed professor, his eyes wide with confusion.
"Can you see dead people? Because I can't see anything," he said, trying not to allow his voice to waver with the unease he felt twisting in his belly.
"Well...not exactly," Snape replied, his eyes darting over to the wall.
"And what is that supposed to mean?" House replied exasperatedly, "Because if you've rigged things so that someone jumps out and shouts 'boo,' I'm going to be sorely disappointed."
"I have done no such thing," Snape replied, his tone thick with offense at the very idea that House would even suggest such a notion.
"Please, come over here so I can take a look at you," the voice said with a soft chuckle, "Severus, if you would point our guest in the right direction?"
"This way," Snape grumbled, pointing a long finger at the wall of portraits.
A man wearing purple glittering robes with twinkling blue eyes waved merrily from one of the frames.
"You've got to be kidding me," House said skeptically, peering closely at the moving image within the frame.
"You must be Doctor Gregory House," the man in the painting said affably, "It is a pleasure to meet you."
"And you are?" House asked, his eyebrows furrowing together.
"My name is Albus Dumbledore," the man replied with a kindly smile, "And I am glad that Severus finally decided to bring you up here."
"And why is that?" House replied, looking askance at Snape before looking back at the long-bearded image of a kindly old man who now seemed to be clacking some kind of hard candy against his teeth.
"Because," Dumbledore said, his voice filling with the sort of authoritative timbre that belied a sense of expansive power that filled the room, "You very well may be our last hope."
House's face seemed to go expressionless from shock for a moment as he turned back to look at Snape once more. Then he grinned wildly.
"Now this guy here," House said, pointing back at Dumbledore, who smiled genially in his frame, "This guy knows what he's talking about."
Snape merely groaned with exasperation.
"Now, take me to my patients," House continued, "It's time I earn my keep, don't you think?"
"I thought you'd never ask," Snape replied morosely.
"Lead the way, monsieur. Chip chop chip!" House said flippantly as Snape rolled his eyes and widened the distance between them.
"I have high hope for you, Doctor House," Dumbledore said kindly from his frame, "And I am sure that Severus will give you access to anything you may need to succeed."
"What can I say?" House said, "Anything I need. Do you hear that, Severus?"
"Ugh! Albus, don't encourage him!" Snape said disparagingly.
"My apologies, Severus. I often forget that I'm no longer part of the game, so to speak. I shall leave you both to your work," Dumbledore said softly, and without another word, he stepped out of the frame and disappeared.
Snape pressed a hidden button on small stone statue near the bookcase and a hidden door slid open in the marble face of the wall to their right. A faint green glow emanated from within.
"They're both in here," he said sourly, sweeping his hand over to indicate the dark room beyond, "Their charts have been kept up to date with all relevant information that we've been able to gather."
"Well, then," House said, rubbing his hands together, "Ooh, I've always wanted to say this."
"What, exactly?"
"It's time to get medieval on their asses."
