Rating:
M (contains reference to drugs, and Gilderoy Lockhart)
Original
Character(s): Alistor Daker, a sadistic coffee-pot, Petrus and
Charlie Sinistra
Legal:
All the characters (besides those mentioned in the above) are the
creation of the wonderful JK Rowling, this story has been written
because I was bored and had nothing more exciting to do. This isn't
for profit.
Authors
Note: The word of the day is…I can't be bothered (maybe I
should have related my word of the day to the story context…).
Petrus is inspired by Greenie, Silverfox's (user ID 50532)
plot hedgehog – I recommend
that you check out her excellent story 'Runaway
Dragon' (story ID 431805). For our non-English readers (and
probably anyone outside the North of England), a 'cardy' is a
cardigan.
The general rule of thumb (for Slytherin's) was that if Professor Snape's bedroom door was open then he was happy to talk, if it was closed you didn't disturb him.
He didn't really have a grand personal space like some of the other staff, more of a small two room affair. The larger part of the room was taken up with a somewhat battered sofa, across from a small fireplace, in the far corner of the same room stood his desk (currently piled high with paper), several overflowing bookcases complete with small piles on the floor and his guitar made up the rest of the space. There was a small archway leading to the next room, containing his night stand, wardrobe and single bed. A curtain discreetly covered the entrance and he had debated getting a door put in, but he couldn't really see the point of it.
On this occasion, the door was open.
Snape was sitting on the floor, his legs apart, marking third year Potions essays. If anyone had popped by they would have been amused with the smiley face socks he was wearing.
The ash tray on the floor denoted the hours that had passed since he had first sat down. Petrus, his elderly but somewhat loveable hedgehog, trotted over pushing a ball about the size of tennis ball (with a very irritating bell) over to him. Snape looked up feeling the bump against his foot, he smiled picked up the ball and rolled it across the room – Petrus persuaded it a leisurely pace and returned pushing the ball. They continued with this game for some hours.
Gilderoy Lockhart faced himself in the mirror. It was something he did on a regular basis – he called it his 'self-affirming' moments. He stared at his reflection, there was something off, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He turned slightly to the left (his good side) and continued to stare.
That's when he saw it.
Taunting him, just peaking out from under the brim of his hat.
A grey hair.
He reached up, his hand shaking, to take the strand – he had to do something quick. He bolted towards his desk which was covered in various hair-care and skin care products and frantically began to look through the bottles.
Finally he found what he was looking for – 'Grey Away, for the Mature Wizard'. He hoped there was enough in the bottle.
The ball bumped against his foot and without looking up he sent it back on its way. There was a slight sound as it hit the skirting and bounced out of his room – Petrus followed the it out into the corridor.
Hermione was at a loss regarding her first editorial. The rest of the paper had come together with no problems, and Dean's illustrations looked excellent – it was a pity that Colin was now lying in the Medical Wing, she had been hoping to ask him to take some pictures of 'life at Hogwarts', luckily though a third year Ravenclaw had offered her services.
For inspiration she was scanning the back issues of the Daily Prophet. She was currently onto December 1979.
From the mid-1970s the majority of the news in Daily Prophet concerned Death Eaters, news on Voldemort's rising and other happy things. There was probably nothing here that would be worth writing about it, she mused.
She sighed and continued to read the article 'More Arrests This Morning', she stopped and re-read the last paragraph, and then re-read it again, no she wasn't imagining things. The last line of the article said: "Also arrested, Severus Snape (20)."
She had her editorial.
Twenty minutes passed before Snape realised that Petrus hadn't returned with the ball. It took him a further three seconds to panic slightly, the memory of Mrs Norris still quite fresh.
He stood and took out his wand, without bothering with shoes he headed out into the dark corridor.
"Lumos." He muttered and scanned the floor. There was Petrus' ball, but there was no sign of the little hedgehog. "Petrus?" He called as a gust of wind shot down the passageway causing him to shiver.
"Bloody hedgehog." He muttered as he set off up the corridor.
Whilst Lockhart was panicking over a single grey hair, and Snape was searching the school for his hedgehog, Hermione Granger was putting the finish touches to her article. It was going to be controversial, but it would generate a lot of discussion and she wanted this to be a memorable first issue. She held up her precious article and smiled to herself, perfect.
Snape knew the corridors of the school almost by heart, he had spent a large portion of his time here stalking them at various hours of the day, but for some reason it all felt different tonight.
It was probably due to the recent strange events but you very rarely met anyone in the corridors after four o'clock on a Friday, everyone seemed to have better things to do than hang around. Snape couldn't really blame them, the last thing he wanted to be doing was searching the school alone.
He tried to ignore the little voice in his head reminding him that only the Muggle born were being 'attacked' and the little voice reminding him that he was half-blood. He had spent several hours researching the Chamber of Secrets and even though he was pretty sure that only those of pure-Muggle blood were at risk he still couldn't shake the uneasy feeling he had.
Awful lot of spiders about he thought to himself as he observed a large cluster of spiders scurrying away from his wand light. There was nothing really unusual about spiders in the castle, but it did seem strange that there seemed to be a sudden boom in the spider population. Must be the weather.
Something touched his arm and he almost screamed.
"Don't you think him might be a bit pissed?" Lavender asked looking over Hermione's editorial.
"He's always pissed. Lavender, it's not even news! It's in the public domain, it happened a long time ago. Anyway it's all about Secret Lives and how much do we really know about people, not Snape." She took the article off Lavender.
"Maybe you shouldn't go with for the first issue, Hermione." Blaise leaned over and took the article off Hermione.
"You just stick with the Gobstones news, Blaise."
"He'll go ape."
"It's not about Snape, I'm just using that as an example. It'll be fine, he probably won't even read it."
No one was quite so confident as Hermione, but she was the boss.
Lockhart gasped, "you didn't have to hex me!"
"Surely you have more sense than to touch someone on the arm in the middle of dark corridor!" Snape snapped back.
"I didn't see you!"
As you might of guessed the person who had put their hand somewhat foolishly onto Snape's had been none other than Gilderoy Lockhart. It wasn't a good idea to frighten the life out of someone holding a wand.
"How could you not see me?!"
"It's dark and your cardy is dark."
Snape had to concede that yes he was wearing dark clothes (apart from his socks) "why were you standing in the corner?"
"I heard a strange noise, so I...I..."
"You hid?"
"No! I merely stepped back to observe, don't forget Severus I am a highly trained specialist."
"In being a wanker?" Snape enquired.
"No! Against dark creatures."
"Right."
"Might I ask what you're doing walking around in your, may I say, very fetching socks?"
Snape looked down and instantly felt a little embarrassed. "I was looking for Petrus."
"Petrus?"
"My hedgehog."
"Oh you have a hedgehog, how sweet. You know I have published a book on the various familiars that wizards choose and I don't think I've come across someone who chose a hedgehog."
"He's not a familiar, he's a pet."
"Oh."
Snape sighed, "if you want to make yourself useful, you can help look for him."
Much as annoying as he was, Lockhart was company and after his scare Snape didn't really feel like searching on his own.
Half an hour later, Snape was still in the company of Gilderoy Lockhart and he was becoming a little anxious of the whereabouts of his hedgehog.
"So what made you keep a hedgehog?"
Snape shrugged, "no reason."
"Why Petrus?"
"I thought Sonic was too predicable."
"Sorry?"
"Nevermind."
"So, why Petrus? It sounds...foreign and exotic. Is that why?"
"Has anyone ever told you that you're extremely irritating?"
"I'm just making conversation."
He took a deep breath, "it refers to St Peter, the first Pope."
Lockhart stopped and looked at him, "that's an odd reason. I thought perhaps because Petrus is rock in Greek."
It was Snape's turn to be surprised, "There's a lot more to you than this flamboyant idiocy isn't there?"
"I'm not just a pretty face. I merely connected the dots from petrified..."
"Professor McGonagall told you."
Professor Sprout leaned over and gently applied some acne medication to her beloved mandrakes. They were her children. During her brief marriage children hadn't been a priority she had been too swept away under the illusions of love, then things had turned sour and everything came to an end. Now it was too late for her to have children.
She felt a twinge of guilt when she thought about the fate that awaited her mandrakes, chopped up and used in one of Snape's potions. At least they have the chance to save someone, she mused.
The one she was holding suddenly stuck out its tongue and began to try to wriggle free from her grip, whilst screaming at the top of it's voice. Yes, they were fast leaving childhood behind.
"I told yer those caterpillar's 'ad nothing ter do wif me!" Hagrid protested for perhaps the hundredth time in the last ten minutes.
"Well they certainly had nothing to do with me! I spent the best part of the day laying traps for the little buggers." Professor Kettleburn replied, gingerly rubbing the stump of his right leg. His wooden one was leaning in the corner of Hagrid's hut along with his cloak.
"Wonder where they came from."
"The library probably. Much as that blasted woman doesn't want to admit, I would bet my left leg that they are some kind of bookworm that's been eating one too many magical books."
"P'robly. 'Ere, yer couldn't talk ter Dumbledore 'bout me takin' yer job?"
"Hagrid, you aren't a wizard."
"I know! But I knows all 'bout magical creatures, yer don't need ter be a wizard..."
"I doubt the school board would allow your appointment."
"But wif yer recommendation..."
"No."
"There's nothing to worry about is there? I mean we're both pure blood wizards." Lockhart muttered nervously to himself.
Snape smiled to himself, "I'm not."
"Your not what, my boy?"
He grimaced at Lockhart's use of 'my boy' but let it pass, it was too much fun to frighten him. "A pure blood."
Lockhart stopped dead in his tracks. "Your...your not?"
"No. Half blood."
Recovering quickly Lockhart smiled, "then no fear! I'm a pure blood I can protect you if we come under attack. Have no fear, you're safe with me. It's a good job I came along!"
