A/N: End of November (nearly) and another chapter. Just to let you know, once December kicks in, I won't be updating nearly as often. Other things need to take priority and, well, there are holidays, too. Also, as of this chapter, I reached my 50,000 word goal for the month of November! National Novel Writing Month was a complete success! Thank you for reading this, everyone. And thanks to everyone who has favorited/followed/reviewed this story. I really appreciate it.
Also thank you to all of the support I've gotten from my friends who read this. (I love you guys)
But on with the story! I hope you enjoy this, and my Lord of the Rings reference. Pippin is one of my most favorite characters.
Max approached the door of the Ravenclaw common room and tried to prepare myself mentally to solve the riddle. They weren't always incredibly difficult, but they were always challenging. As was the purpose of the riddling door outside of the common room. In his personal opinion, though, he used enough brain power during the day as it was. The only thing that he believed the door helped him with was it increased his ability to think in abstract ways to solve the riddles given to him.
But after a long evening of studying with his other transfers, he was worn out. His brain was fried. That is to say he couldn't think properly.
When he came to stand in front of the door, he heard the riddle: "Most people need it, some ask for it, some give it, but almost nobody takes it."
It was one of those What am I? riddles. Normally he didn't mind them. They could be fun sometimes. But that night… that night, he despised it.
"Er… um…" He scratched his scalp, his brain moving as quickly as dripping cake batter. "The answer to this riddle?"
No response from the door.
He sighed, and thought some more. What was something most people needed? Something that some people asked for? Something that some people give away? But, at the same time, almost nobody takes?
Nearly twenty minutes later, Max still had no answer. He'd slid down to sit next to the wall by then. It was late enough that he was sure everyone was already inside of the common room by then. No one would just come along and open the door for him.
"You know what I'm asking for right now, that some people would give, and I would most certainly take?" He asked the solid face of the door. After a few seconds of no response, he tipped his head. "You're terrible at riddles, mate." He realized suddenly that he was projecting onto this plank of wood blocking his way and sighed deeply. "The answer is the answer to your stupid riddle."
Max frowned. "Can you repeat it?" For the hundredth time?
"Most people need it, some ask for it, some give it, but almost nobody takes it." The door repeated.
"Death?" He asked moribidly, his voice dry.
Nothing.
"Bananas?" He had to make sure.
Nope.
"Time?"
Still nothing.
"Party hats?"
This time when there was no response, the Griffinclaw exhaled deeply in frustration and slumped further down the wall, throwing his arm over his eyes. He was just so tired.
Then he heard footsteps. Filling with hope, Max launched to his feet just in time to see a little girl come around the corner. He recognized her vaguely.
Her blonde hair was long, nearly past her waist, and in her hair was a rainbow headband that was gaudily covered in glitter of the same colors. A first year, too.
He sighed, most of his hope crushed. If he couldn't get it, how likely was it that this First-Year could? "Hello. What are you doing out so late?"
She smiled at him, her big eyes incredibly wide. "Hello, Max. I had to find my shoes." Her voice was airy, as if halfway into a dream. "How are you?"
"I can't figure out the riddle." He admitted, unable to contemplate how she would have lost her shoes in the first place.
The first-year nodded slowly. "What is it?"
Max stayed silent as the door easily answered her question, repeating the exact lines it gave the Gryffinclaw.
The girl stayed silent for a long moment, and Max tried not to distract her, hoping she would get the answer. The chance of that was low, but he still held onto some tiny sliver of hope.
"Oh, I'm Luna, by the way." Her voice peeped up unexpectedly. "Luna Lovegood."
Max nodded his head. "Max Johnson."
"You were a Gryffindor."
"Yup." Max answered shortly, wanting to go to bed.
"How are you liking Ravenclaw?"
"Oh, it wouldn't be all that terrible, if I could just get into the common room." He said, bitterly in the direction of the portal.
Luna smirked slightly. "Advice."
"What about it?" Max asked, just as the door suddenly swung open.
He stared at it with incomprehension.
"Most people need advice. Some ask for it. Some give it. But almost nobody takes it." Luna passed him on her way into the common room. Max hurried after her.
"Thank you." He said, earnestly.
Luna smiled. "No problem. Would you like some advice?" She asked.
Max was skeptical, but tried not to show it, giving her an easy smile. "Sure."
"The door accepts honesty as an answer." She said. "Oh! And don't forget to wash behind your ears."
Unsure of what to do with what she'd said or the advice given, he only continued to smile. "Thanks."
"Any time." She responded, before skipping away.
Jasper kept his arms wrapped firmly around his torso, keeping his robe folded over himself carefully. It was free time on a Friday, so Elisa wouldn't be busy. Or he hoped not, at least.
Sure enough, he found her in what seemed to be her favorite spot on the grounds. A fourth-floor corridor that had window seats along a single wall. The high windows allowed a mostly-uninterrupted view of the Hogwarts grounds, which were currently covered in snow.
He sat next to her, and she looked up from her Charms textbook carefully. "What can I do for you?"
Jasper hesitated, but a squirming on his chest urged him on. "Johnson mentioned that your cat died."
Elisa sighed deeply. "I'm fine."
"I know, but I figured you might like something to – agh! Okay!" Jasper opened his arms as if to recoil from something and out of his robes jumped a tiny creature.
But it wasn't just any creature.
It was a kitten.
Elisa smiled broadly. "Aw, it's so cute!"
"That little demon isn't cute. It's a monster of evil." Jasper said, checking his arms for scratches.
"Most cats don't like being in enclosed spaces, Jasper." Elisa told him.
He shook his head. "No, you don't understand. She's three-fourths Kneazle."
"How could she be three-fourths Kneazle?" She asked.
"Oh, you know. Mother a Kneazle, father a half-cat-half-Kneazle. That kitten is a spawn of demons." Jasper said.
Elisa scoffed, and lifted the grey fuzz-ball that was probably about a month old from her estimations. The thing had extra-pointed ears, and extra, longer hair at the end of its tail, trade-marks of the Kneazle heritage Jasper spoke of. "Then why did you bring her to me?"
"Would you like to keep her?" He asked.
Her eyes widened. "Oh, Jasper, I couldn't."
"Oh yes you could." He disagreed. "Just take her. I don't want her. In fact, I would much rather not have her."
She frowned. "That's mean."
"So is she." Jasper mentioned.
Elisa shook her head and snuggled the kitten to her face. "She's so precious."
The animal released what Jasper could only see as the most adorable mew he'd ever heard and he glared at it. "That's right. You pretend you're perfect so she'll take you."
Elisa chuckled under her breath. "Does she have a name?"
"Demon-Spawn." He responded seriously.
"Beside that."
"Creation-Of-Darkness. Destroyer-Of-Happiness. Consumer-Of-All-That-Is-Good-And-Homework." He listed off the names as if pre-contemplated. "Honestly, Morgan, I don't want her. Please take her off of my hands."
Elisa scrutinized him for a moment. "You drive a hard bargain, but I'll accept."
"Will you take her now?" Jasper asked.
Elisa thought for a moment. "You know, I could. Do you have a bed for her?"
"Yes, I do. But she doesn't sleep in it much." He admitted. "Just sort of… tears it to pieces."
She smiled at the mental image his words conjured. "You make her sound like trouble."
"That's because she is trouble."
"Then I'll call her Peregrin." Elisa decided. "And her nickname will be Pippin."
Jasper frowned. "What after?"
"A fool of a Took." Elisa said with a smirk. "He's a character that normally causes trouble."
Vaguely, Jasper wondered from which of her novels she'd chosen that from. "Then the name fits soundly."
They were silent for a moment, Elisa petting the cat and it beginning to purr loudly. "You know, Jasper, it would be easier for you to give her away if you didn't point out all of the supposedly negative things about her."
"I'm just being honest and laying all of the cards out on the table." He defended. "You should know what you're getting yourself into. You have the right to be warned."
"If only everything in life was that way." She said, suddenly melancholy. "Had big warning labels."
Jasper nodded slowly. "If only. But then, of course, you would lose half of the fun of discovery."
This seemed to strike Elisa as surprising to hear, because she looked up and met Jasper's eyes for a moment before looking out of the window, going deeply into thought. The Slytherpuff had never considered his words very thought provoking, but perhaps what he'd said was what she'd needed to hear.
"Again."
Crack! The sound of ceramic cups breaking seemed endless in Amelia's mind.
"You only cracked it." Professor Snape said.
The repetition was killing the muscles in her arm, but she ignored the burning pain. "Sorry."
"Don't apologize. Do better." He flicked his wand and repaired the cup for the hundredth time with a silent Reparo. "Try again."
Amy took a deep breath, and moved her wand in the sideways V-formation the spell required, whispering the spell in her mind; Reducto.
With another sharp crack, a piece of the cup flew off, but the cup still hadn't smashed itself yet.
The professor repaired it. "Again."
Crack! Only a spider's web line through the clay. She was beginning to get frustrated now. And so, it seemed, was Professor Snape. If his tone was anything to go by. With a violent swish of his wand, the cup sealed its own cracks. "Again."
Amy's bicep hurt. She'd been holding her wand up for nearly half an hour without letting it down once. Not forever, sure. But it was a long while when you added in the mental effort put into each cast of a spell. She was angry at herself for still not getting it right.
"Did you hear me, Ms. Ross?" Professor Snape broke through her train of thought. "Do it again." He spoke slowly, annunciating each word as if he didn't believe she would understand them.
She was frustrated with herself, and now angry with her professor, and wanted so badly to not only smash that cup but demolish it completely. Until it was nothing. Her wrist completed the required movement as if of its own free will, and suddenly a different noise filled her ears. Smash! The cup exploded into fine dust, disintegrated with the flash of blue that came with the spell.
Amy was breathing heavily through her nose, still heavily angered by how long it had taken her and how difficult getting it correct had been. And had she even gotten it correct? Was the cup supposed to do that?
She realized then that Professor Snape hadn't repaired the cup so she could do the task another time. Maybe he couldn't, due to its form as powder.
Amelia looked past her still-lifted arm at the Potions master. He was staring at her with an unreadable expression. She stared back, still fired by the fury of repeated failure.
"I believe… we are done for the day." Professor Snape told her slowly. "Put your wand away."
She did as he asked of her. "Are you going to fix the cup?" The question came to her lips without bidding, and she inwardly wondered why she cared.
He continued to stare at her. "Why fix something that isn't worth repairing?" He asked instead. "I'll see you in Potions this evening. Leave."
Amy frowned at him, but didn't hesitate to walk out of the classroom without another word.
Severus found that alone odd. Amelia Ross always said goodbye. Or at least some sort of cheesy word of parting that gave either a positive note or left Snape wanting to roll his eyes. Or both. This time, his student simply left.
He again looked to where the dust of the pottery was beginning to settle on the table. At least she hadn't missed. But Ross must have been getting increasingly frustrated as the time passed, but still willing to continue to try. Until that sudden burst of fury that fueled the last spell. It was the Reductor Curse, as he'd directed, but in an incredibly potent form.
Children with magic had nothing but raw power when in an emotional state. The issue is trying to urge that magic into a proper use while the student was not a mess of emotions that lead them out of control. Keeping a child in control of the sort of power that was magic seemed to be Severus's job. All of the time. Every day. It's basically what he was being paid to do.
It was what all of the instructors at Hogwarts were being paid to do. And, of course, he disliked the children aspect of this profession. Though that couldn't really be helped at this point.
He sighed deeply, and muttered "Tergeo," to remove the powder of clay from the surface of the table, vanishing it seconds later. An easy mess to be cleaned, at least. Though it was of increasing concern that Amelia Ross was growing frustrated with the spells he directed her in.
Perhaps it was just the day. Last week, she'd been just like normal. He would give it next week, and see if anything had changed. Because if it had, than he could consider this abnormal before as a fluke. A simple disturbance of pattern that, while leaving him confused, was entirely harmless.
Of course it was harmless.
"Amy, are you okay?" Max asked when she sat down for supper at the Hufflepuff table. She looked frustrated with something, her brow set as if she were frowning.
"Yes." She responded simply, using the ladle provided at the table to serve herself some of the soup, filling her bowl around half-way. "Where are the others?"
"They'll be here, soon." Max told her hesitantly, still trying to figure out what was wrong. Why did things seem to be wrong with both Amy and Elisa? He could barely handle one girl and her secret emotions, let alone two. How was he going to look after them?
"You know, Max," Amy began, he voice betraying her apparent irritation. "I've about had it."
"About had what?" He asked.
"Honestly, I thought maybe I could do it, but I really think it's too hard."
The sentence failed to clarify anything for Max. "What's too hard?"
"That… that ridiculous class." She finally decided on the wording of her answer. "I don't want to do it anymore."
So it was the classic opinion of this class is stupid and I don't care about it situation? He'd barely hit that, and he was older than her. Wasn't she a little young to be feeling that way toward schoolwork? The want to learn should still be ever-present in kids her age. Wow, he thought, hearing me think, someone would guess I'm an adult. Or at least older than her by more than a year.
"What class are we talking about?" He asked.
"My extra credit class with Professor Snape."
"Oh, they're giving you extra credit? That's wonderful!"
"Yeah, it would be. If it wasn't so absolutely, excruciatingly frustrating." She confessed, dropping her spoon into her soup without eating what was on it.
He recalled her mentioning before that the spells they were working on were difficult to completely non-verbally. "What spell are you having trouble with?"
"The Reductor Curse." She admitted. "And, well, technically I got it in the end."
"You did?" Max was honestly surprised.
"The cup we were using sort of… disintegrated. Does the Reductor Curse do that? Disintegrate things?" She asked uncertainly.
The Griffinclaw shrugged, leaning forward against the table. "It can, I suppose. That would make sense." He hesitated. "What did Snape say?"
"He just told me that we were done and that I could leave." Amy answered, the frustration leaking out of her to be replaced by a dejected expression. "I just… I don't know what's right and what's wrong."
"And Snape certainly won't tell you." Max agreed with a nod of his head. "Not his style."
A Hufflepuff passed behind Amy, and greeted them. Both transfers waved with smiles, not bothering to respond verbally as the student clad in yellow continued to walk to the other end of the table.
The smile melted from Amy's face as she returned her attention to the bowl in front of her.
Max gave her a sympathetic look. Professor Snape seemed to really hate Gryffindors, so he'd never really seen a very positive side of the Potions master. Then again, was there actually a positive side to see?
"You did correctly finish the spell, though, didn't you?" Max asked. "You broke the cup?"
"Well… yes." She confirmed.
"Then there you go! Success to Amelia Ross!" Max stated exuberantly. "Be happy about it, because you're doing great." He nudged her arm gently, and she smirked slightly.
"When did you get so positive?" She asked him.
He scoffed. "I've always been positive." Then he cast a glance around the table. "Though, honestly, I think it's because we're sitting at the Hufflepuff table."
Amy laughed. "You make it sound like optimism is contagious or something."
Max smirked at the evidence of her mood lightening. "That's because I legitimately think it is. You just have to be around it long enough."
A/N: Thanks again for reading! I'll try to update this story once a week, but it may have to extend to once every two weeks, because finals are coming up. Just around the corner. I'm obviously so excited. And that last sentence was completely sarcastic.
I hope you've been enjoying the story so far, though!
Catch you later...