Squib Caretaker
a Harry Potter fan-fic
by Ozma
A sequel to "Squib Puppet"
Chapter Ten: Sad Farewells and Dangerous Curiosity
Everything really belongs to J.K. Rowling
"You want me to do *what?*" Sirius Black gave me an incredulous
look.
"Cast one of those really powerful Cheering Charms on Moaning
Myrtle. You know, like the one that you put on Professor Snape...?" I
said.
It was very early morning. The sun had not yet risen. No lights
shone in the windows of Hagrid's hut nearby.
The sleepy-eyed Animagus had a small bundle on his back which
probably contained everything he owned in the world. He was preparing to
fly away on Buckbeak.
I'd been anxious to catch Black before he left the Castle. When
I'd come stumbling out of red-and-gold, still wearing my nightshirt,
with Mrs. Norris padding alongside me, Black had been looking quite
grave. But the young wizard had smiled when he saw us.
After exchanging polite bows with the hippogriff, I'd made my
request.
"Do you want me to play a prank on Myrtle?" The Animagus asked,
astonished.
"No, of course you don't, Filch," he amended when I blinked at him
in confusion. "What was I thinking?"
"Would your Cheering Charm work on a ghost?" I asked him.
"I'm not sure. But, even if it works, it may not be the best way
to go about cheering up Myrtle. Even I wasn't expecting that Charm to be
as potent as it turned out to be. Snape didn't care for the effects very
much, did he?"
He paused to yawn.
"Maybe it would do Myrtle more harm than good."
A lesser amount of Moaning from Myrtle would certainly mean a more
pleasant summer for me, but Black did have a point.
"Well, perhaps if you... erm... toned it down a bit?" I said.
"Why don't you try to cheer her up instead?" The Animagus
suggested.
"What? Me?"
"There are ways to do it without casting spells," Black said.
"That bathroom of hers could certainly do with a fresh coat of paint.
Ask her to help you pick a new color."
I didn't bother trying to discover how he knew so much about the
interior of a girls' bathroom. Black had always made a habit of being
places where he shouldn't. Instead, I considered his suggestion. "This
IS Moaning Myrtle we're discussing. She'll choose something drab and
dingy."
"Don't offer her any drab colors to choose from. She might want
some new mirrors in there too. And more torches to make the place
brighter, and new sinks..." Black was grinning broadly now, no doubt
amused by the thought of me thumbing through endless catalogues of
bathroom fittings, holding the pictures up for Myrtle's approval.
"You're awfully generous with the school's repair budget, not to
mention my time..." I grumbled. "New paint will have to suffice. And she
may not want a change."
"Even if she doesn't, she might just be glad that you asked."
Knowing Myrtle, that was unlikely. Still, I supposed that I could
try...
The Animagus watched my face, guessing at my thoughts. "She may
surprise you."
"Anything's possible," I admitted. "You actually turned down a
chance to cause some trouble and spare yourself the blame because it
would have been my fault for suggesting it. The world's full of
surprises."
"Indeed it is," Black said, grinning at me.
"I'm obliged for the ideas," I told him. "I won't keep you any
longer."
The young wizard knelt to stroke Mrs. Norris.
Not entirely to my surprise, my cat permitted his touch. Snuffles
was considered a kindly uncle to her kittens, after all. And he was a
good friend to Crookshanks.
Then Black stood and stretched. He released Beaky from his tether
and swung himself onto the hippogriff's back.
"Look after yourself," I said, quietly. "You know the boy needs
you. Don't be too much of a... a Gryffindor."
His pale eyes glittered with mischief. "And here I thought that
you *liked* Gryffindors, Filch."
"Not impudent, troublesome young ones like you...!"
Black laughed, but then his expression grew sober. "Take care of
yourself. And the Castle."
He sighed. "And tell the greasy git to look after himself a bit
better than he's been doing. He's his own worst enemy. Inconsiderate of
him... makes me feel redundant."
"I'll tell him," I said.
*******
After watching Black and Beaky fly into the sunrise, Mrs. Norris
and I wandered around the front of Hagrid's cabin. Fluffy, who was
chained, was lying on his side near the steps. The three heads were
resting on each other, eyes closed. But, as soon as the Cerberus caught
our scent, the heads lifted and all six eyes opened. Fluffy's massive
tail thumped happily.
I hadn't had the foresight to bring dog-biscuits, but Fluffy
seemed glad enough for the company. He really was a friendly creature to
those he knew and liked, despite his fearsome appearance.
"I hope that the Pup will come back in one piece..." I said,
giving each massive head a rub behind the ears. "And I hope that the
Castle will still be here, safe, when he does."
The grass was damp with dew. I sat anyhow, leaning against Fluffy
as I'd seen Black do the night before. Mrs. Norris climbed into my lap
and began to purr. The warmth of the Cerberus's huge body and my cat's
small one comforted me a bit. We watched the sun finish rising.
*******
Not long afterwards, I was dressed and ready to start attending to
my list of tasks. This morning, the plumbing would have to wait. I had a
promise to keep. Mrs. Norris and I were in one of the dungeon workshops,
making a new door for the Potions classroom.
The workshop is large and roomy, the floor swept carefully clean
of sawdust. Places for tools on the shelves and in the drawers are all
neatly labeled. Some had been written in Apollyon Pringle's spidery
hand, some in my own, and many more notes and labels were written long
ago, by people I can't identify.
It's likely that every caretaker in the history of Hogwarts has
had a chance to label something down here. I may not know their names or
faces but over the years their handwriting has become nearly as familiar
to me as my own.
I'd finished the door's measurements yesterday and made certain
that everything I needed was here. Plenty of wood rested in stacks
against a wall. Hinges, knobs, fittings...
"Argus? Here you are working, and the sun's barely risen. I went
to your room and you weren't there. I asked the elves where to find
you."
It was Minerva. She was dressed for traveling in a long green
cloak.
"Y-you're leaving?" I said, my throat suddenly dry. "I thought you
were staying for another day at least, maybe two...?"
Minerva shook her head.
"We won't be out of touch," my lovely professor said, quite
firmly.
"Of course not," I said, proud of how steady my voice was.
"Albus will have told you that you can summon any one of us back
here if we are urgently needed," she said.
I nodded. The Headmaster had given me a stack of postcards, each
one bearing a picture of a ruined castle. I recognized it as a view of
Hogwarts as a Muggle would perceive it, or a Squib who is seeing the
place for the first time. Few proper witches and wizards were probably
familiar with the sight.
"'Having a lovely time. Wish you were here,'" I said, dryly,
quoting the code-phrase that the Headmaster had told me to write on the
postcard if I owled anyone to come at once in an emergency.
Minerva smiled.
My heart cracked in two.
I didn't want her to go away! Or, I wished to go with her!
Foolishness, I knew, even as I fought the tears that stung at my eyes.
My duties bound me to the Castle. Her duties, at least for the summer,
lay elsewhere. Neither of us were the sort to neglect our
responsibilities.
"I'll be wishing that you were here with me, every single day," I
said, gruffly.
Minerva's grey eyes grew luminous with unshed tears. I felt like
an absolute pig for distressing her.
"Professor," I said, in an attempt to be professional again, "I'm
terribly sorry..."
"Argus, you sweet, foolish man," she said severely, dabbing at her
eyes. "If you apologize to me I shall Transfigure you into a mouse and
pounce on you. You have nothing to be sorry for. Unless you intend to
wait for an emergency to owl me, because I intend to write to you as
often as I possibly can."
Her fierce tone made me smile. My brave one, my lioness.
What would she say to me if I told her not to be "such a
Gryffindor?" I decided that I wasn't brave enough to find out.
"Please, Minerva, promise me that you'll be careful," I said
instead. "Take no foolish chances. And always watch your back."
"The chances that I choose to take are rarely foolish ones," she
said, briskly. "But I will certainly take care. And you must promise me
that you'll do the same."
I gave her my word.
We looked at each other for a moment, and then she was in my arms,
her body warm against mine. I kissed the top of her head, she kissed the
tip of my nose, then our lips met. Time stood still for a long, tender
moment.
Minerva's kisses are headier than Ogden's Old Firewhiskey, and
even sweeter than a refreshing drink of water on a hot summer's day. I
could drink her kisses like wine.
Quite intoxicated, I would have told her that her hair was like
black silk, her skin was like velvet, and the faint dusting of freckles
on her nose were dearer to me than every golden galleon locked away at
Gringotts. Perhaps fortunately, I was too shy to say such things. I
opted for another kiss instead.
We stopped kissing when we needed to breathe. Mrs. Norris, who was
observing from a quiet corner of the workshop, flicked an ear at us in
amusement.
*******
Perched on a stool, Minerva lingered to watch me work on Professor
Snape's door. Her carriage would not be arriving for a little while yet,
she said.
There was a time when being observed would have made me nervous. I
fetch every tool by hand instead of simply using a wand to summon what I
need. I sand and plane and level everything step by step, rather than
enchanting the tools to continue working while I move on to something
else.
"A combination of hard work and proper organization can take you
far, boy, even without magic," Apollyon Pringle had told me. Failed
wizard though he was, most of the safety spells that he'd put on the
saws and drills to protect me remained strong, even now.
"Pain may be the best teacher, but I won't get much work out of a
one-handed, fingerless apprentice!" The old man had said, gruffly.
Over the years there have been Professors who have been fascinated
by the way that I can work without magic. Maybe I ought to have been
flattered by their interest, but I disliked feeling like an amusing
curiosity.
However, Minerva's interest did warm and flatter me. She did not
look as though she was watching a quaint performance. Instead she
observed me carefully, taking note when a remark would have proved too
distracting. And her conversation held no element of `Look At That -
Aren't You Clever!'
Instead, she gave me some interesting information about Severus.
"I was able to speak with Irma before she left, yesterday
evening," she said. "We located a single book on Cold Potion spells in
the library's Restricted Section. It did mention `backlash.' However,"
Minerva's lips thinned in annoyance, "the book did not describe any
backlash effects which resemble a head-cold. Knowing Severus as I do, I
suspect that he simply didn't want to take his medicine."
"So, he's just being difficult..." I muttered. "How unusual."
Minerva chuckled, dryly.
"After I get his door installed, I'll fetch him another dose of
Pepperup. Then I'll stand over him until he drinks it!" I said. "If he's
going to behave like a brat, then he's going to be treated like one."
*******
Minerva and I didn't use red-and-gold to go out to her carriage.
The walk would have been over much too quickly.
Dumbledore and Hagrid were waiting by the Castle gate to see
Minerva off. She embraced both of them tightly, then she gave me a quite
unselfconscious kiss before climbing into the waiting carriage.
The Headmaster looked away politely, but his smile was pleased.
The half-giant grinned broadly. Avoiding both their eyes, I felt myself
blushing like a ripe tomato.
*******
Embarrassed, and already missing Minerva desperately, I retreated
to the quiet coolness of the Potions classroom. Keeping busy is my
steadfast answer to heartache.
Poppy had instructed the house elves to help me as much as
possible with the heavy work. Four of the elves placed themselves at my
disposal, and the door was up in record time.
Then, after thanking the elves and making a brief stop in the
hospital wing for another dose of Pepperup, I stepped through green-and-
silver and emerged in the dungeons, outside Professor Snape's rooms.
He'd placed protective spells on this door too, but none that
`felt' nasty. It was safe to knock, and I did.
"Professor!!" I shouted, several times, as I banged loudly on the
door.
After a few minutes the door swung open. I stepped into a dim
sitting room.
Professor Snape, looking paler than usual except for his red, sore
nose, stood in another doorway, one that presumably led into his
bedroom.
He was wearing his long, grey nightshirt, clutching a handkerchief
in one hand and his wand in the other. His long black hair, usually
combed back, was a tangled mare's nest.
"Merlin's TEETH, Filch!" The Potions Master rasped. "What do you
want?"
"To tell you that your classroom has a new door."
He glared, blew his nose, and glared some more.
"You didn't have to disturb me for that!"
"And, to tell you that Professor McGonagall and Madam Pince looked
up Cold Potions in the Library. Your story about backlash was a load of
codswallop, meaning no disrespect, Professor."
I held up the goblet with the Pepperup in it and glared back.
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, a Master of Potions,
suffering needlessly," I scolded him. "Is it really so much more
dignified to go about sneezing than to be seen with smoke pouring out of
your ears? You were probably worried about Black catching sight of you!
Well, you needn't concern yourself about that because he's gone. And he
wanted me to tell you to stop being your own worst enemy. So, here!
Drink this!"
Snape continued to glower at me.
"Don't make me fetch the Headmaster to pinch your nose and force
your mouth open while I pour this potion down your throat! You know he'd
do it!" I growled.
Snape's sneer became lethal. I'd gone too far, and I knew I'd have
to pay. Maybe he would cast a spell on me to teach me better manners...
But the Potions Master didn't point his wand at me. Instead, he
stumbled forward, grabbed the goblet out of my hands, turned on his heel
and staggered into the bedroom with it.
When I heard the slam of another door, I wandered into the bedroom
after him. The Professor's sitting room had been neat and orderly, but
his bedroom was a disaster. The bed was a tangled mass of sheets and
blankets. Parchments, scrolls and books were piled onto his chair and
his chest of drawers and every other available surface.
The poor man was ill, and I was hardly an invited guest, I told
myself, sternly.
In a corner near the bed, surrounded by an island of clear floor
space, was Azoth's large, sturdy basket. The little black tom stood up
and stretched luxuriantly before he emerged. Weaving his way towards me
around the piled books and parchments, he rubbed against my ankles in
greeting.
"Hello, little lad," I said, absently. I was staring at the
basket.
The old wool basket that Azoth had found in Helga Hufflepuff's
Workroom... as far as I knew, Helga Hufflepuff's secret cloister had
remained empty for nearly a thousand years.
True, the Lady of Hufflepuff wasn't known for being an Alchemist.
But, she'd created the other Doors, hadn't she?
After a cautious glance at the closed bathroom door, I moved
slowly towards Azoth's basket.
Inside, I saw a black pillow (real velvet from the look of it, not
velveteen) and the rubber mouse that was Azoth's favorite of the toys
that Ginny Weasley had gotten for Mrs. Norris's kittens.
Cautiously, I rested a hand on the velvet pillow. The basket had
seemed harmless and innocent enough when I'd picked it up in Helga's
Room, but Severus had possessed it for a number of weeks now.
Sensing nothing, I slid my hand under the pillow. My hand seemed
to be going down much deeper than it ought to be going...
The subtle protective spell wasn't triggered until I'd submerged
my right arm inside the basket, nearly shoulder deep. By the time I felt
the warning surge of magic, it was too late for me to pull my arm out
again.
I felt my hand being gripped tightly by some powerful force. And
then, a sudden burst of pain...
END OF CHAPTER TEN
Author's Notes:
AET: Thank you!! (Though, this review is really meant for ThePet's
wonderful story, "The Lyrics To Your Tune," and it somehow ended up on
the wrong review page. How did that happen, I wonder? Anyway, I agree
that "The Lyrics To Your Tune" is off to a terrific start!)
Kcarke: Thank you!! Good guess about the basket!!
Going through Salazar's Door would make Harry very sick. He's a
Parselmouth, but not a Slytherin. There's a "Wrong Door Effect" which
affects people who go through a Door that belongs to a different House.
The "Wrong Door Effect" makes kids get sick for a few minutes longer and
adults get sick for a few days longer. The Wrong Door Effect is worse
for Heirs who use a Door that isn't theirs.
Harry's scar hurt when he went through Godric's Door because the Door
was recognizing the Heir of Gryffindor and throughly examining every
aspect of him, including the scar that links Harry to Voldemort against
Harry's will. Going through the Door won't make Harry's scar hurt so
much the next time, since the Door knows that the scar isn't a taint.
Unrepentent Reader: Thank you!!
Jelsemium: Thank you!! Sirius with low self-esteem... hmmm, I'd never
thought of him in that way before, but it makes sense. Plenty of class-
clown life-of-the-party people do have low self-esteem. Some of his
pranks, especially the crueler ones, could be a result of a self-image
problem.
The thought of being considered "interestin'" by Hagrid makes Argus
scowl. And then Argus bites his nails nervously.
Oooh, Voldemort with a cold!! God, that's funny! I might actually pity
the Death Eaters...
"Chapter four, paragraph sixty-six quite clearly states that Harry James
Potter is exempt from all rules." That cracked me up! I can just see
poor Snape yelling and tearing at his hair.
I like your idea about Wormtail and Hedwig!! Like you, I am worried
about Wormtail's silver hand, and what he might do to poor Remus with
it.
Yes, your guess (via e-mail) is right about the basket!
Besnaped: Thank you!! More about what Filch and Azoth did to help Snape
unlock the secret of the Alchemist's Door next chapter. But the basket
is a big piece of the puzzle.
I agree that Snape and Black would find it difficult to be really
comfortable with each other. Moody understands the Potions Master's pain
and worry for Draco. In his way Moody also grieves for the Slytherin
children who are in the most danger of falling to the Dark.
Your wonderful story, "Another Nightmare," (which everyone should go and
read!!) has been a major inspiration for the way I think about Tom and
Voldemort. I may write some more about him eventually.
Spark-Chick: Thank you!! And thank you for the kind words on my earlier
stories too!!
Andolyn: Thank you!! Oh, the image of Mrs. Norris capturing Wormtail in
front of everyone like that is too priceless for words!! I love it!!!
I also love the idea of cats bringing us their prey because they think
we don't know how to catch our own. That's so cute!! (My cat is an
inside cat, so she brings me socks and rubber-bands.)
Saphron: Thank you!! Yes, Dumbledore would be proud of Sirius and
Severus. Like the others, the Headmaster doesn't want to verbally
acknowledge the fact that the boys are being so good. Any parent knows
that the moment you praise your children for good behavior, they will
behave like brats just to prove that they still can.
You're right about the conversation around the bonfire feeling awkward
for most of the participants. Hagrid was the only one who was completely
relaxed.
Rabbit-and-v-Jinx-v-: Thank you!! And thank you for the multiple chapter
reviews!! I'm glad that you updated your stories, the vegetarian
alternative was delicious!! Thank you for the permission to use Ella's
Enchanted Everkleen, you and Jinx will definitely get credit when I do.
The "ice mice" were mentioned in one of the books as a wizard-sort of
candy. But now, I have this image in my mind of Salazar Slytherin
happily feeding mice-icles to his Basilisk...
The people who Voldemort has made "disappear" are very well hidden. No
one has found them yet.
Yes, Moody phrased the Rules the way he did to please Filch's orderly
soul. Filch may never realize this.
Hagrid is a fairly optimistic person. He knew that he could get Beaky
and Fluffy to get along, eventually. I love the way that you describe
Dumbledore "leaving Filch with the baby and getting him to feel
complimented." It's so true.
My inspiration for this story (everyone leaving the castle for the
summer, except for Filch) came from an interview that Scholastic did
with Rowling, which I read online. Someone asked if the teachers stay at
Hogwarts for the summer, and Rowling said that usually only Hagrid and
Filch stay.
Yes, Filch's usual reaction to the Leaving Feast is "Thank GOD." Though
it did do him good to start caring about a number of the kids as
individuals. He has cared about some of the students before, but it
always took him years to realize it.
Larania: Thank you!! I really love the idea of Mrs. Norris taking
Wormtail down too. Now, if I can think of a way to do it, without either
one of them suffering permanent harm...
Demeter: Thank you!! Snape got his Pepperup this chapter. Next chapter
he will have smoking ears.
Lataradk: Thank you!! You commented on every chapter!! Wow!! I love the
idea of red-and-gold showing up as a blanket on Harry's bed. I also love
the image of Snape with Azoth on his shoulders, blending in with the
Potions Master's black hair and black robes.
Wild Magic as a neutral force has been an idea in the back of my head
for a while. It will probably pop up again.
Snape seems to put himself in danger as often as any Gryffindor. Of
course, being a Slytherin, he comes up with more creative excuses. Yes,
I love Norse Mythology. As a kid I practically devoured every mythology
book in my school library.
Filch not only approached Snape-with-a-cold, he threatened him too.
Maybe that wasn't such a good idea, as Snape is the only one around to
help Filch at the moment.
Re Minerva and Tom Riddle; my ideas about their time at Hogwarts were
inspired and heavily influenced by Alchemine's wonderful stories (which
everyone should go read!!) "June Week" and "Post Hoc Ergo Propter Hoc."
I do have fragments of ideas for Wormtail sneaking into the Castle
during the summer, I'll have to see what develops.
Lizard of Fire: Thank you!!
Elektra: Thank you!! Yes, Sirius and Severus are getting along a bit
better, but don't tell them. If anyone notices they'll start fighting.
I think that the cats probably tend to choose companions from the House
that they would have been Sorted into. So, of Mrs. Norris's and
Crookshanks' kittens, Azoth, Juno and Beatrice would be Slytherins,
Paladin, Pellinore and Bastet would be Gryffindors, Semyon would be a
Ravenclaw and Briar would be a Hufflepuff.
Crookshanks would be a Gryffindor, and Mrs. Norris would have been a
Hufflepuff if Filch had ever been sorted. But she's pleased enough to be
the Caretaker's Cat.
a Harry Potter fan-fic
by Ozma
A sequel to "Squib Puppet"
Chapter Ten: Sad Farewells and Dangerous Curiosity
Everything really belongs to J.K. Rowling
"You want me to do *what?*" Sirius Black gave me an incredulous
look.
"Cast one of those really powerful Cheering Charms on Moaning
Myrtle. You know, like the one that you put on Professor Snape...?" I
said.
It was very early morning. The sun had not yet risen. No lights
shone in the windows of Hagrid's hut nearby.
The sleepy-eyed Animagus had a small bundle on his back which
probably contained everything he owned in the world. He was preparing to
fly away on Buckbeak.
I'd been anxious to catch Black before he left the Castle. When
I'd come stumbling out of red-and-gold, still wearing my nightshirt,
with Mrs. Norris padding alongside me, Black had been looking quite
grave. But the young wizard had smiled when he saw us.
After exchanging polite bows with the hippogriff, I'd made my
request.
"Do you want me to play a prank on Myrtle?" The Animagus asked,
astonished.
"No, of course you don't, Filch," he amended when I blinked at him
in confusion. "What was I thinking?"
"Would your Cheering Charm work on a ghost?" I asked him.
"I'm not sure. But, even if it works, it may not be the best way
to go about cheering up Myrtle. Even I wasn't expecting that Charm to be
as potent as it turned out to be. Snape didn't care for the effects very
much, did he?"
He paused to yawn.
"Maybe it would do Myrtle more harm than good."
A lesser amount of Moaning from Myrtle would certainly mean a more
pleasant summer for me, but Black did have a point.
"Well, perhaps if you... erm... toned it down a bit?" I said.
"Why don't you try to cheer her up instead?" The Animagus
suggested.
"What? Me?"
"There are ways to do it without casting spells," Black said.
"That bathroom of hers could certainly do with a fresh coat of paint.
Ask her to help you pick a new color."
I didn't bother trying to discover how he knew so much about the
interior of a girls' bathroom. Black had always made a habit of being
places where he shouldn't. Instead, I considered his suggestion. "This
IS Moaning Myrtle we're discussing. She'll choose something drab and
dingy."
"Don't offer her any drab colors to choose from. She might want
some new mirrors in there too. And more torches to make the place
brighter, and new sinks..." Black was grinning broadly now, no doubt
amused by the thought of me thumbing through endless catalogues of
bathroom fittings, holding the pictures up for Myrtle's approval.
"You're awfully generous with the school's repair budget, not to
mention my time..." I grumbled. "New paint will have to suffice. And she
may not want a change."
"Even if she doesn't, she might just be glad that you asked."
Knowing Myrtle, that was unlikely. Still, I supposed that I could
try...
The Animagus watched my face, guessing at my thoughts. "She may
surprise you."
"Anything's possible," I admitted. "You actually turned down a
chance to cause some trouble and spare yourself the blame because it
would have been my fault for suggesting it. The world's full of
surprises."
"Indeed it is," Black said, grinning at me.
"I'm obliged for the ideas," I told him. "I won't keep you any
longer."
The young wizard knelt to stroke Mrs. Norris.
Not entirely to my surprise, my cat permitted his touch. Snuffles
was considered a kindly uncle to her kittens, after all. And he was a
good friend to Crookshanks.
Then Black stood and stretched. He released Beaky from his tether
and swung himself onto the hippogriff's back.
"Look after yourself," I said, quietly. "You know the boy needs
you. Don't be too much of a... a Gryffindor."
His pale eyes glittered with mischief. "And here I thought that
you *liked* Gryffindors, Filch."
"Not impudent, troublesome young ones like you...!"
Black laughed, but then his expression grew sober. "Take care of
yourself. And the Castle."
He sighed. "And tell the greasy git to look after himself a bit
better than he's been doing. He's his own worst enemy. Inconsiderate of
him... makes me feel redundant."
"I'll tell him," I said.
*******
After watching Black and Beaky fly into the sunrise, Mrs. Norris
and I wandered around the front of Hagrid's cabin. Fluffy, who was
chained, was lying on his side near the steps. The three heads were
resting on each other, eyes closed. But, as soon as the Cerberus caught
our scent, the heads lifted and all six eyes opened. Fluffy's massive
tail thumped happily.
I hadn't had the foresight to bring dog-biscuits, but Fluffy
seemed glad enough for the company. He really was a friendly creature to
those he knew and liked, despite his fearsome appearance.
"I hope that the Pup will come back in one piece..." I said,
giving each massive head a rub behind the ears. "And I hope that the
Castle will still be here, safe, when he does."
The grass was damp with dew. I sat anyhow, leaning against Fluffy
as I'd seen Black do the night before. Mrs. Norris climbed into my lap
and began to purr. The warmth of the Cerberus's huge body and my cat's
small one comforted me a bit. We watched the sun finish rising.
*******
Not long afterwards, I was dressed and ready to start attending to
my list of tasks. This morning, the plumbing would have to wait. I had a
promise to keep. Mrs. Norris and I were in one of the dungeon workshops,
making a new door for the Potions classroom.
The workshop is large and roomy, the floor swept carefully clean
of sawdust. Places for tools on the shelves and in the drawers are all
neatly labeled. Some had been written in Apollyon Pringle's spidery
hand, some in my own, and many more notes and labels were written long
ago, by people I can't identify.
It's likely that every caretaker in the history of Hogwarts has
had a chance to label something down here. I may not know their names or
faces but over the years their handwriting has become nearly as familiar
to me as my own.
I'd finished the door's measurements yesterday and made certain
that everything I needed was here. Plenty of wood rested in stacks
against a wall. Hinges, knobs, fittings...
"Argus? Here you are working, and the sun's barely risen. I went
to your room and you weren't there. I asked the elves where to find
you."
It was Minerva. She was dressed for traveling in a long green
cloak.
"Y-you're leaving?" I said, my throat suddenly dry. "I thought you
were staying for another day at least, maybe two...?"
Minerva shook her head.
"We won't be out of touch," my lovely professor said, quite
firmly.
"Of course not," I said, proud of how steady my voice was.
"Albus will have told you that you can summon any one of us back
here if we are urgently needed," she said.
I nodded. The Headmaster had given me a stack of postcards, each
one bearing a picture of a ruined castle. I recognized it as a view of
Hogwarts as a Muggle would perceive it, or a Squib who is seeing the
place for the first time. Few proper witches and wizards were probably
familiar with the sight.
"'Having a lovely time. Wish you were here,'" I said, dryly,
quoting the code-phrase that the Headmaster had told me to write on the
postcard if I owled anyone to come at once in an emergency.
Minerva smiled.
My heart cracked in two.
I didn't want her to go away! Or, I wished to go with her!
Foolishness, I knew, even as I fought the tears that stung at my eyes.
My duties bound me to the Castle. Her duties, at least for the summer,
lay elsewhere. Neither of us were the sort to neglect our
responsibilities.
"I'll be wishing that you were here with me, every single day," I
said, gruffly.
Minerva's grey eyes grew luminous with unshed tears. I felt like
an absolute pig for distressing her.
"Professor," I said, in an attempt to be professional again, "I'm
terribly sorry..."
"Argus, you sweet, foolish man," she said severely, dabbing at her
eyes. "If you apologize to me I shall Transfigure you into a mouse and
pounce on you. You have nothing to be sorry for. Unless you intend to
wait for an emergency to owl me, because I intend to write to you as
often as I possibly can."
Her fierce tone made me smile. My brave one, my lioness.
What would she say to me if I told her not to be "such a
Gryffindor?" I decided that I wasn't brave enough to find out.
"Please, Minerva, promise me that you'll be careful," I said
instead. "Take no foolish chances. And always watch your back."
"The chances that I choose to take are rarely foolish ones," she
said, briskly. "But I will certainly take care. And you must promise me
that you'll do the same."
I gave her my word.
We looked at each other for a moment, and then she was in my arms,
her body warm against mine. I kissed the top of her head, she kissed the
tip of my nose, then our lips met. Time stood still for a long, tender
moment.
Minerva's kisses are headier than Ogden's Old Firewhiskey, and
even sweeter than a refreshing drink of water on a hot summer's day. I
could drink her kisses like wine.
Quite intoxicated, I would have told her that her hair was like
black silk, her skin was like velvet, and the faint dusting of freckles
on her nose were dearer to me than every golden galleon locked away at
Gringotts. Perhaps fortunately, I was too shy to say such things. I
opted for another kiss instead.
We stopped kissing when we needed to breathe. Mrs. Norris, who was
observing from a quiet corner of the workshop, flicked an ear at us in
amusement.
*******
Perched on a stool, Minerva lingered to watch me work on Professor
Snape's door. Her carriage would not be arriving for a little while yet,
she said.
There was a time when being observed would have made me nervous. I
fetch every tool by hand instead of simply using a wand to summon what I
need. I sand and plane and level everything step by step, rather than
enchanting the tools to continue working while I move on to something
else.
"A combination of hard work and proper organization can take you
far, boy, even without magic," Apollyon Pringle had told me. Failed
wizard though he was, most of the safety spells that he'd put on the
saws and drills to protect me remained strong, even now.
"Pain may be the best teacher, but I won't get much work out of a
one-handed, fingerless apprentice!" The old man had said, gruffly.
Over the years there have been Professors who have been fascinated
by the way that I can work without magic. Maybe I ought to have been
flattered by their interest, but I disliked feeling like an amusing
curiosity.
However, Minerva's interest did warm and flatter me. She did not
look as though she was watching a quaint performance. Instead she
observed me carefully, taking note when a remark would have proved too
distracting. And her conversation held no element of `Look At That -
Aren't You Clever!'
Instead, she gave me some interesting information about Severus.
"I was able to speak with Irma before she left, yesterday
evening," she said. "We located a single book on Cold Potion spells in
the library's Restricted Section. It did mention `backlash.' However,"
Minerva's lips thinned in annoyance, "the book did not describe any
backlash effects which resemble a head-cold. Knowing Severus as I do, I
suspect that he simply didn't want to take his medicine."
"So, he's just being difficult..." I muttered. "How unusual."
Minerva chuckled, dryly.
"After I get his door installed, I'll fetch him another dose of
Pepperup. Then I'll stand over him until he drinks it!" I said. "If he's
going to behave like a brat, then he's going to be treated like one."
*******
Minerva and I didn't use red-and-gold to go out to her carriage.
The walk would have been over much too quickly.
Dumbledore and Hagrid were waiting by the Castle gate to see
Minerva off. She embraced both of them tightly, then she gave me a quite
unselfconscious kiss before climbing into the waiting carriage.
The Headmaster looked away politely, but his smile was pleased.
The half-giant grinned broadly. Avoiding both their eyes, I felt myself
blushing like a ripe tomato.
*******
Embarrassed, and already missing Minerva desperately, I retreated
to the quiet coolness of the Potions classroom. Keeping busy is my
steadfast answer to heartache.
Poppy had instructed the house elves to help me as much as
possible with the heavy work. Four of the elves placed themselves at my
disposal, and the door was up in record time.
Then, after thanking the elves and making a brief stop in the
hospital wing for another dose of Pepperup, I stepped through green-and-
silver and emerged in the dungeons, outside Professor Snape's rooms.
He'd placed protective spells on this door too, but none that
`felt' nasty. It was safe to knock, and I did.
"Professor!!" I shouted, several times, as I banged loudly on the
door.
After a few minutes the door swung open. I stepped into a dim
sitting room.
Professor Snape, looking paler than usual except for his red, sore
nose, stood in another doorway, one that presumably led into his
bedroom.
He was wearing his long, grey nightshirt, clutching a handkerchief
in one hand and his wand in the other. His long black hair, usually
combed back, was a tangled mare's nest.
"Merlin's TEETH, Filch!" The Potions Master rasped. "What do you
want?"
"To tell you that your classroom has a new door."
He glared, blew his nose, and glared some more.
"You didn't have to disturb me for that!"
"And, to tell you that Professor McGonagall and Madam Pince looked
up Cold Potions in the Library. Your story about backlash was a load of
codswallop, meaning no disrespect, Professor."
I held up the goblet with the Pepperup in it and glared back.
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, a Master of Potions,
suffering needlessly," I scolded him. "Is it really so much more
dignified to go about sneezing than to be seen with smoke pouring out of
your ears? You were probably worried about Black catching sight of you!
Well, you needn't concern yourself about that because he's gone. And he
wanted me to tell you to stop being your own worst enemy. So, here!
Drink this!"
Snape continued to glower at me.
"Don't make me fetch the Headmaster to pinch your nose and force
your mouth open while I pour this potion down your throat! You know he'd
do it!" I growled.
Snape's sneer became lethal. I'd gone too far, and I knew I'd have
to pay. Maybe he would cast a spell on me to teach me better manners...
But the Potions Master didn't point his wand at me. Instead, he
stumbled forward, grabbed the goblet out of my hands, turned on his heel
and staggered into the bedroom with it.
When I heard the slam of another door, I wandered into the bedroom
after him. The Professor's sitting room had been neat and orderly, but
his bedroom was a disaster. The bed was a tangled mass of sheets and
blankets. Parchments, scrolls and books were piled onto his chair and
his chest of drawers and every other available surface.
The poor man was ill, and I was hardly an invited guest, I told
myself, sternly.
In a corner near the bed, surrounded by an island of clear floor
space, was Azoth's large, sturdy basket. The little black tom stood up
and stretched luxuriantly before he emerged. Weaving his way towards me
around the piled books and parchments, he rubbed against my ankles in
greeting.
"Hello, little lad," I said, absently. I was staring at the
basket.
The old wool basket that Azoth had found in Helga Hufflepuff's
Workroom... as far as I knew, Helga Hufflepuff's secret cloister had
remained empty for nearly a thousand years.
True, the Lady of Hufflepuff wasn't known for being an Alchemist.
But, she'd created the other Doors, hadn't she?
After a cautious glance at the closed bathroom door, I moved
slowly towards Azoth's basket.
Inside, I saw a black pillow (real velvet from the look of it, not
velveteen) and the rubber mouse that was Azoth's favorite of the toys
that Ginny Weasley had gotten for Mrs. Norris's kittens.
Cautiously, I rested a hand on the velvet pillow. The basket had
seemed harmless and innocent enough when I'd picked it up in Helga's
Room, but Severus had possessed it for a number of weeks now.
Sensing nothing, I slid my hand under the pillow. My hand seemed
to be going down much deeper than it ought to be going...
The subtle protective spell wasn't triggered until I'd submerged
my right arm inside the basket, nearly shoulder deep. By the time I felt
the warning surge of magic, it was too late for me to pull my arm out
again.
I felt my hand being gripped tightly by some powerful force. And
then, a sudden burst of pain...
END OF CHAPTER TEN
Author's Notes:
AET: Thank you!! (Though, this review is really meant for ThePet's
wonderful story, "The Lyrics To Your Tune," and it somehow ended up on
the wrong review page. How did that happen, I wonder? Anyway, I agree
that "The Lyrics To Your Tune" is off to a terrific start!)
Kcarke: Thank you!! Good guess about the basket!!
Going through Salazar's Door would make Harry very sick. He's a
Parselmouth, but not a Slytherin. There's a "Wrong Door Effect" which
affects people who go through a Door that belongs to a different House.
The "Wrong Door Effect" makes kids get sick for a few minutes longer and
adults get sick for a few days longer. The Wrong Door Effect is worse
for Heirs who use a Door that isn't theirs.
Harry's scar hurt when he went through Godric's Door because the Door
was recognizing the Heir of Gryffindor and throughly examining every
aspect of him, including the scar that links Harry to Voldemort against
Harry's will. Going through the Door won't make Harry's scar hurt so
much the next time, since the Door knows that the scar isn't a taint.
Unrepentent Reader: Thank you!!
Jelsemium: Thank you!! Sirius with low self-esteem... hmmm, I'd never
thought of him in that way before, but it makes sense. Plenty of class-
clown life-of-the-party people do have low self-esteem. Some of his
pranks, especially the crueler ones, could be a result of a self-image
problem.
The thought of being considered "interestin'" by Hagrid makes Argus
scowl. And then Argus bites his nails nervously.
Oooh, Voldemort with a cold!! God, that's funny! I might actually pity
the Death Eaters...
"Chapter four, paragraph sixty-six quite clearly states that Harry James
Potter is exempt from all rules." That cracked me up! I can just see
poor Snape yelling and tearing at his hair.
I like your idea about Wormtail and Hedwig!! Like you, I am worried
about Wormtail's silver hand, and what he might do to poor Remus with
it.
Yes, your guess (via e-mail) is right about the basket!
Besnaped: Thank you!! More about what Filch and Azoth did to help Snape
unlock the secret of the Alchemist's Door next chapter. But the basket
is a big piece of the puzzle.
I agree that Snape and Black would find it difficult to be really
comfortable with each other. Moody understands the Potions Master's pain
and worry for Draco. In his way Moody also grieves for the Slytherin
children who are in the most danger of falling to the Dark.
Your wonderful story, "Another Nightmare," (which everyone should go and
read!!) has been a major inspiration for the way I think about Tom and
Voldemort. I may write some more about him eventually.
Spark-Chick: Thank you!! And thank you for the kind words on my earlier
stories too!!
Andolyn: Thank you!! Oh, the image of Mrs. Norris capturing Wormtail in
front of everyone like that is too priceless for words!! I love it!!!
I also love the idea of cats bringing us their prey because they think
we don't know how to catch our own. That's so cute!! (My cat is an
inside cat, so she brings me socks and rubber-bands.)
Saphron: Thank you!! Yes, Dumbledore would be proud of Sirius and
Severus. Like the others, the Headmaster doesn't want to verbally
acknowledge the fact that the boys are being so good. Any parent knows
that the moment you praise your children for good behavior, they will
behave like brats just to prove that they still can.
You're right about the conversation around the bonfire feeling awkward
for most of the participants. Hagrid was the only one who was completely
relaxed.
Rabbit-and-v-Jinx-v-: Thank you!! And thank you for the multiple chapter
reviews!! I'm glad that you updated your stories, the vegetarian
alternative was delicious!! Thank you for the permission to use Ella's
Enchanted Everkleen, you and Jinx will definitely get credit when I do.
The "ice mice" were mentioned in one of the books as a wizard-sort of
candy. But now, I have this image in my mind of Salazar Slytherin
happily feeding mice-icles to his Basilisk...
The people who Voldemort has made "disappear" are very well hidden. No
one has found them yet.
Yes, Moody phrased the Rules the way he did to please Filch's orderly
soul. Filch may never realize this.
Hagrid is a fairly optimistic person. He knew that he could get Beaky
and Fluffy to get along, eventually. I love the way that you describe
Dumbledore "leaving Filch with the baby and getting him to feel
complimented." It's so true.
My inspiration for this story (everyone leaving the castle for the
summer, except for Filch) came from an interview that Scholastic did
with Rowling, which I read online. Someone asked if the teachers stay at
Hogwarts for the summer, and Rowling said that usually only Hagrid and
Filch stay.
Yes, Filch's usual reaction to the Leaving Feast is "Thank GOD." Though
it did do him good to start caring about a number of the kids as
individuals. He has cared about some of the students before, but it
always took him years to realize it.
Larania: Thank you!! I really love the idea of Mrs. Norris taking
Wormtail down too. Now, if I can think of a way to do it, without either
one of them suffering permanent harm...
Demeter: Thank you!! Snape got his Pepperup this chapter. Next chapter
he will have smoking ears.
Lataradk: Thank you!! You commented on every chapter!! Wow!! I love the
idea of red-and-gold showing up as a blanket on Harry's bed. I also love
the image of Snape with Azoth on his shoulders, blending in with the
Potions Master's black hair and black robes.
Wild Magic as a neutral force has been an idea in the back of my head
for a while. It will probably pop up again.
Snape seems to put himself in danger as often as any Gryffindor. Of
course, being a Slytherin, he comes up with more creative excuses. Yes,
I love Norse Mythology. As a kid I practically devoured every mythology
book in my school library.
Filch not only approached Snape-with-a-cold, he threatened him too.
Maybe that wasn't such a good idea, as Snape is the only one around to
help Filch at the moment.
Re Minerva and Tom Riddle; my ideas about their time at Hogwarts were
inspired and heavily influenced by Alchemine's wonderful stories (which
everyone should go read!!) "June Week" and "Post Hoc Ergo Propter Hoc."
I do have fragments of ideas for Wormtail sneaking into the Castle
during the summer, I'll have to see what develops.
Lizard of Fire: Thank you!!
Elektra: Thank you!! Yes, Sirius and Severus are getting along a bit
better, but don't tell them. If anyone notices they'll start fighting.
I think that the cats probably tend to choose companions from the House
that they would have been Sorted into. So, of Mrs. Norris's and
Crookshanks' kittens, Azoth, Juno and Beatrice would be Slytherins,
Paladin, Pellinore and Bastet would be Gryffindors, Semyon would be a
Ravenclaw and Briar would be a Hufflepuff.
Crookshanks would be a Gryffindor, and Mrs. Norris would have been a
Hufflepuff if Filch had ever been sorted. But she's pleased enough to be
the Caretaker's Cat.