"Always obey your parents when they are present."
-Mark Twain
Chapter 12: Be Careful What You Ask For
Saira stumbled down the hall, her new possessions under her arm. –All I need are paws, and I'd be dog tired… Hope I can remember how to get back to my rooms, this has been one long day.—
Of course, things are never that simple. Saira had scarcely turned down the second corridor when she heard the yelling.
"Scoundrel! MISCREANT! It's the manacles for you, this time fer certain!"
–I don't much like the sound of this…— Saira took a deep breath and turned around the corner. To her relief, all she saw was an old man with disheveled hair, leaning into the face of a scraggly boy, who appeared to be hanging onto…a security blanket? –He's a bit old for that, I'll wager.—
"YOU!" The man careened around in a wild circle, and swooped towards Saira.
–Oh dear. Not now. Not tonight. I am not in the mood.— "Yes, me." she said, her voice its iciest. "And who might you be?" She glared and took a step towards him, her head held high anda hand rising to rest on her hip. Saira did "bitchmode" pretty well.
To her surprise, instead of looking chastened or further infuriated, the old man straightened up a bit, and gave her an approving nod. "Well, seems they do know what they're doing, after all…"
Before Saira had a chance to process his words, he'd rounded back on the boy and grabbed him soundly by the ear.
"OW!"
"That's right, yell all you want now. You'll be doing a lot more yelling before I'm done with you, you thieving little brat!" The man dragged his prey in front of Saira. "Do you see this? This here putrid little vermin can't even get through his first week of school before he's snooping around the halls. He thinks he won't get caught, that he's above the law—but let me tell you, the law here, between Mrs. Norris and myself, Argus Filch, it will be upheld!"
Saira could feel the stirrings of a migraine. Who was this insufferable Argus Flich, and why did he persist in talking to her? –Gods, I am tired.— She looked at the boy's face, recognizing him as the redhead she'd seen at the train station. The very same redhead whose brothers had so recently done her a good turn. And, if she stretched her memory, she could place him in her class just today, sitting in the back between a dark haired boy, and a girl with curly brown hair. –Now, if I could only remember his name…—
The boy's face, even in the gloomy light of Filch's torch, stood out in drastic pale contrast to his hair and freckles. And, he kept trying to hide his blanket from view. Filch, however, was not put off.
"And what have we here? Ah-HA!" Triumphant, the caretaker yanked the blanket out of the boy's grip, and held it aloft as if it were an Olympic medal. "You see what we're dealing with!" He looked at Saira with glittering eyes.
"I certainly do. This is absolutely inexcusable behavior from a student." Saira felt her face slip into an auto-pilot mask. "There is no excuse for trespassing on school grounds at night. None."
Filch looked jubilant. "Exactly! I thought you'd agree!"
"Furthermore, he is only compounding his crimes by lollygagging about in the hallways. Young man, you will come with me to discuss your punishment. Filch, I will take this as evidence." Saira reached for, and received, the blanket. The caretaker looked as though his might swoon with joy.
"And what might his punishment be, Professor? I'm more than willing to help you devise one."
"I assure you, that won't be necessary. I am more than capable of dealing with anyone idiotic enough to get himself caught at this hour. Unless you doubt my abilities…?" Saira took yet another step towards Argus Filch, her expression dark.
"Not in the least, dear lady! You are a credit to Hogwarts. If you ever require my assistance, you have but to ask."
Saira had turned away from the caretaker even before he'd finished speaking, and stalked across the few steps that separated her from the boy.
"You will follow me. You will not step to the left or to the right, or I will be feeding you to whatever it is that lives in that lake. Understand?" Filch squawked with anticipatory glee behind them.
The boy nodded, and the two of them made quick progress through the hallways. The only place Saira knew how to find, excepting her quarters, was the classroom she'd taught in earlier that day. And so, there they went. She stormed through the door, flinging it open, and gestured to the boy to sit. Saira had barely pulled the door shut behind her before the shaking, which had been barely evident in front of Filch, overtook her body.
"Professor Hansen?" The boy watched her back quiver. "Are you alright?"
When Saira turned around, she had tears glistening in her eyes. And she finally let lose the laughter she'd been holding back.
"All right? That was the most fun I've had…well, maybe not all day. Not today. But it rates up there. Oh, his face, it was too much…manacles? What sort of nutter is he?" She wiped her eyes, still chortling, and assessed the boy in front of her.
"You might want to close your mouth, before something flies in or out of it. Wouldn't surprise me at all here. And what's your name? Weasley something, I'm sure, and it's not a Fred or George unless your parents are particularly cruel."
"Um. Ron. Ron Weasley. I'm in your Muggle Studies class."
"Yes, yes…and so tell me, Ron, what were you doing out in the hallway? And how did you get caught? Just up and tell me the truth, it's much simpler than any other plan you might have."
Ron considered his options. He didn't quite see that he had too terribly many, at this point. Harry is going to kill me!
"Don't laugh?" He looked pleadingly at his professor. "It's a total wingjob."
"Now you've got me curious." Saira sat on the desk in front of Ron, waiting.
"I was hungry. So I nipped down to the kitchen, and it would have been a quick in-out sort of deal, only I tripped over that dratted cat. Mrs. Norris, I mean. I swear, she tripped me on purpose! And I went flying and Filch came running, and then, well, you were there."
"So, how'd you do?"
"Huh?"
"Well, did you manage to get any food?"
Ron's mouth dropped again. And then he grinned the same way his brothers did, as he turned out the front pocket of his shirt. Four neatly wrapped pasties tumbled onto the desk.
Saira smiled. "Good to see the whole evening wasn't a waste. And now…shouldn't you be headed back?"
Ron turned pale again. "Wait, please, please I need that back—" he gestured to the blanket, no, it was a cloak in Saira's lap.
"This?" She looked down at the tumble of material in her lap, and her eyes widened in surprise. It gloamed in her lap as though it were a pool of mercury, looking distinctly magical. "What, exactly, is this?"
Ron winced. He had assumed she'd known what it was, and had thought his chances of getting it back were slim to begin with. Now that she was asking questions, he had a feeling Harry might just be encouraging Malfoy to practice his nastiest hexes on him come tomorrow.
"Well?" Saira was waiting. And she was tired.
"It's…" he paused. He tried to think of anything else it could be. Then he gave up. "It's an invisibility cloak."
"Really." Saira stared at the boy, and then shifted her eyes back to the cloak. She handed it to him. "Show me."
Ron slipped it over his shoulders—which immediately disappeared from view.
"Oh. That's enough." Saira raised her hands in surrender. "Should have believed you the first time. Well, take it—it's yours. And don't get caught again."
"Aren't you going to punish me?" Ron was in drastic danger of wetting himself, he was so overjoyed.
Saira arched her left eyebrow and pursed her lips. Her smile broke through seconds later, as Ron's expression turned to dismay with therealization of what he'd just said.
"All right." Saira shrugged. "Suit yourself."
Ron returned to the Griffyindor halls with only three pastries remaining in his pocket.
