A/N: As ever, huge thanks to guests and Hamlet!
Chapter 29
The Most Dangerous Commodity in the World
After lunch, 12:45 pm, the Great Hall
"Oh come on, sir! We can really stick it to those hoity toity Gryffindorks; show 'em who the best house is!"
"Admirable sentiments, Miss Mayhew." Said Snape, "But I shan't be joining you in your dance class."
"Your loss." Said Alicia.
"Indeed, and I'll try to bear it manfully."
Snape gave a rueful almost-smile as Alicia walked away. She couldn't behave herself for longer than a day, but the child had spirit.
"What's she got on you?" he asked the boys.
"Nothing! We … umm … we just felt sorry for her, that's all." Babbled Bletchley.
He didn't believe a word; Mayhew had rumbled a scam. But as long as they stayed within the grounds, he didn't have the energy to care. In any case, they were allowed to be disappointed; he would've been in their position. He went back to perusing the proposed timetable.
"No, no and definitely no. Enjoy the dancing, gentlemen!"
And with that, he was off - shortly followed by the boys.
oOo
1:05 pm, the Owlery
It was a cosy nest up in the owlery. They'd been given blankets, pumpkin juice, a humongous stash of Malfoy's unwanted sweets - and strict instructions not to step a toe outside until fetched.
"What do you think they're up to?" Asked Elsa when they were alone.
"Gotta be Hogsmeade." Said Alicia, "They're idiots, but what can you do?"
She tossed a few more Fudge Flies into her already full mouth.
"They'll get in heaps of trouble!" Said Elsa.
"Only if they get caught …" Alicia thought some more, "Yeah, probs."
"What about us?!" Asked Elsa.
"What have we done?"
"We fibbed to Snape."
"No … no, we obeyed Pucey, and Snape's always telling us to do as the prefects say. We're in the clear. Here, have a Chocoball."
Elsa nibbled and thought.
"It's easier for you, Lissy; you get in trouble all the time."
"How's that easier for me?!"
"I dunno, you're used to Snape scolding and whacking you."
Alicia rolled her eyes, and then shot forward to peer from the stone embrasure.
"Is that them?"
Far below the girls, six blurred specks were moving from a copse onto open heath.
oOo
En route to Hogsmeade, 1:10 pm
That exhilarating first step out of bounds, one of school's great joys! An adult needs to rob a bank, or covet his neighbour's oxen to get a similar rush. It wasn't just a Snape rule they were breaking - they were so multifarious, it was hard to get through they day without breaking at least seven. This was a Hogwarts' rule they'd broken - the second they'd climbed the wall. Brilliant! They were outlaws, and they treated their new status with appropriate seriousness. Pucey and Crabbe were at the vanguard, Bletchley and Goyle at the rear, with Potter taking the right flank, and Malfoy the left.
Harry'd almost laughed when Bletchley and Pucey had insisted on the military-like formation. What a palaver! They were only going for a short stroll! Then he had a rethink. Yeah, but they were doing it without any help from invisibility cloaks, or secret passages. No one whispered helpful information to the Snakes; they relied on each other. All the same, he couldn't keep the smirk off his face as he looked left and saw Malfoy's rising panic.
oOo
Why can't I keep my bloody mouth shut, thought Draco Malfoy. We could've gone in, nabbed a few sweets and been back at Hogwarts in no time. But no, I had to one-up Potter. What was I thinking?! Snape's going to have a fit if he finds out.
They kept off the main path, and skirted the woodland that nestled Hogsmeade to arrive at the rear of The Hog's Head. Not its prettiest aspect - it was a walled yard full of broken tables, crates, barrels, and the stench of stale ale. Draco wrinkled his nose. I'm like my father, blathering on and pretending. I'm not brave; I'd be like Longbottom if I didn't have Crabbe and Goyle. Potter's brave. Malfoy stayed ensconced in his self-revelations, as the conversation swirled around him.
"It's empty! Right we are, lads; let's get inside!" Said Goyle.
"It's so quiet." Remarked Pucey, "Where is everyone?"
"It is quiet; what sort of festival is this?" Asked Bletchley.
"They're all down the hill. Look." Said Crabbe.
Potter hadn't spoken, Draco realised. Bloody hell, he's probably inside already, helping himself to the firewhisky, and I'll be the only one too chicken to go in. He chanced a sly glance, and found Potter was still outside - looking scared stiff. Woo hoo! Potter looked like he was going to sick up any moment!
oOo
Is that what I look like when I'm wandering round Hogwarts? Why haven't I been caught more often?! Harry always suspected Mrs Norris could 'sense' him in his cloak. He realised now she couldn't; she was just at eye level with his sodding feet! Harry stared at two black trainers and 3 centimetres of purple and red striped socks shuffling in the pub yard. Thanks for the cloak, dad, but it isn't half a stupid design. How are you supposed to walk and keep your feet covered?
oOo
Draco Malfoy was his own worst enemy - fact. Self-revelation was one thing; acting on it was another.
"Scared, Potter?!" Smirked the Platinum One.
"Yeah … yeah, I am."
That honesty shocked all of them. They looked, then followed the line of Harry's finger. Oh, shitting hell!
Harry leaned forward and yanked off the cloak.
"Archie!" Snarled Malfoy, "What are you doing here?!"
"And how did you get this?" Asked Harry, shaking the cloak.
"I stayed outside Mr Filch's office. The window was open; I heard you talking."
"Snape's gonna need a new slipper after this." Groaned Crabbe.
"No. We won't get the slipper for this … it'll be worse …"
When 'bright and breezy' Adrian Pucey gave such a bleak assessment, everyone took note. The group set about first panicking, then blaming each other, and finally deciding what to do. They could draw lots to choose a person to go back with a cloaked Archie. But Nott wouldn't be ready for them, and they weren't sure of Filch's whereabouts. Harry could go on ahead under the cloak, and tell them if it was safe to follow. But after seeing Archie's feet, he wasn't so keen, especially in this blustery weather - the cloak would blow all over the place. Then again, why call it off and go back? The pub was empty; they were running the same risk if they stayed a while and completed the 'quest'.
"May as well go in, eh?" Suggested Goyle.
He had a point. The wind had picked up, and the rain was almost horizontal. Goyle, Crabbe, Pucey and Bletchley piled inside. Harry and Malfoy stayed out standing guard, along with wet, cold and severely chided Archie - his punishment for almost effing up the plan.
oOo
Harry was pissed off with Archie. He hated the thought of anyone taking his dad's cloak, but he was no hypocrite, either. He'd disobeyed rules and taken things he shouldn't enough times. So when Malfoy started telling the first-year all the awful things they were going to do to him back in the dungeons, Harry silently pulled him away and let Malfoy rant at the wind.
The ranting made him feel a bit better. Archie had got there unseen; he could get back unseen, surely? He had to; taking a first-year out of bounds would drive Snape to apoplexy. It'd mean the cane; he knew what Pucey was getting at. Stop thinking like this, he told himself. We'll be back in the dungeons soon. He pulled his jacket tighter, and swept the wet hair from his face. Well, there was a sight to cheer him. Why had they ever been upset at not being allowed to come here?!
What a dreary spectacle this 'festivity' was; he was tickled pink! All the town's children lined up by age, and all of Hogwarts sorted into year groups. But his delight at the rest of the school having a rotten time was quickly dampened. Something was off here. Why the compulsion to listen to speeches? Why the arrow-straight rows? He'd been to plenty of Ministry functions with his dad. No one listened to speeches; it was an opportunity to snaffle more canapés and hobnob. He looked for Potter to see what he made of it all, but Golden Boy and Archie had wandered over by the beer barrels.
Draco turned back, and saw a figure stride from between the rows. Hard to make out at that distance if it was anyone he knew. To his left he heard Archie whining about how he couldn't see anything. For God's sake, Potter; just give him a whack! He kept his eyes on the Ministry man far ahead; something about the way he walked, and his sharp head turns frightened Malfoy. He couldn't make out who it was, but he'd seen his like before; those nameless, faceless men that came to the Manor late at night. A chill went through him.
There was a scuffling noise, followed by a cry. Archie had stood on the barrels, but they were empty and didn't support even his light weight. He plunged down between them, causing two to come loose from the stack. Malfoy watched in alarm as they rolled down the shingle path, picking up speed and getting louder and louder. He glanced over the wall; the man had heard the barrels and was coming up to The Hog's Head at a hell of a clip. And with a wand thrust out. Who did that at a festival? This wasn't good.
He couldn't shout; the man was close enough to hear now. He waved his arms, but Potter saw nothing, too busy pulling Archie from the mass of barrels. Draco ran to the pub door, "Hide!" They thought it was Snape, and ducked into cupboards instantly. The man was fifty yards away. Draco went to pull his wand from his sleeve. Shit! They were outside school; the Underage Sorcery Decree would see the Ministry onto them in no time. He backed away, ready to run to the trees behind. And then he stopped. He was scared, but he'd had a lifetime of being scared and another emotion bloomed amongst the fear: anger. He'd sneaked out of school; he hadn't hexed anyone! An irate Snape was one thing, but not this.
"Potter!" Malfoy called.
The rest of the barrels had started rolling and Harry didn't hear a thing. Bollocks! Draco hurtled across the yard, grabbed Potter's arm and plucked up Archie by his collar. They raced to the trees just as the man came tearing into the yard. "Cloak!" whispered Malfoy hoarsely. Harry pulled it from his pocket, and unfurled it as Malfoy yanked all of them to the ground.
They lay as tight as possible, Harry almost in Draco's lap and Archie clinging to his side. He clamped his hand over Archie's mouth to stifle a gasp when the menacing black boots trod the long grass. Their assailant swished his wand, casting bolts of blue that set the ground sizzling, and the three sat petrified. But an odd thing went through Draco's head. This was awful and terrifying. But as bad as it was, it wasn't as bad as running away. He was glad he was here with Potter and Archie; it was much easier than living with the knowledge you're a shit.
After what felt like hours, the boots and their owner retreated, and Malfoy got a look at him. But there was nothing to give away his identity - a long black cloak, scarf and hat meant it could have been anyone. The only thing he did know was it wasn't his dad. Lucius would have taken any number of crucios before he put on a pair of such un-stylish boots. That knowledge gave him the courage to shrug off the cloak, and go to the others.
"We've got to get out of here!"
oOo
Anteroom to the Great Hall, 2:30 pm
"What's he doing here?!"
Nott looked aghast at Archie, and it only got worse as Malfoy told him what happened.
"Did you see his face?!"
Malfoy's reply in the negative calmed him a little, but he still punched Archie on the arm, and not even Harry or Pucey raised an objection. Instead, they sank onto the hard wooden benches that lined the room, and stared straight ahead thinking how close they'd come to facing the madman from the Ministry, and the wrath of Severus Snape.
But relief's a peculiar emotion; it's so short-lived. No sooner are you thankful, than your mind begins to ask 'what if?'
"What would that man have done if he'd caught us?" Asked Potter.
No one knew.
"What was he after anyway? Why would he be interested in a load of school kids?" Puzzled Goyle.
Did any of the Snakes know about the mirror? Harry took off his glasses under the guise of cleaning them, and ran them along the length of the wooden benches, seeing the magnified reactions of the others. Anything? Not particularly. Some looked perplexed, some looked worried. Or maybe it was a bit of both? Or maybe he just couldn't tell.
The one thing no one mentioned was Snape; they all thought about him, though. What would he do if he knew? Harry was certain he'd be sent packing back to Gryffindor, possibly after the mother of all thrashings. Pucey couldn't believe his own stupidity, and his rotten luck. Snape had told him to carry on as normal and observe, but he was pretty certain he hadn't meant observe a first-year nearly being kidnapped by an insane Death Eater. Why had it been Archie that tagged along? Why not Malcolm, or Alicia? They were constantly misbehaving. Though he hated the prospect, Pucey would take a caning; he'd dish one out himself in Snape's shoes. But would it end there? Or would Snape expel him? He couldn't go back home; it was the worst place on earth. Would he have the guts to escape to the continent like his brother Charlie and his sister Emmy?
Draco's new found bravery didn't extend to not feeling bereft at the thought of expulsion from Slytherin. Damn it! Why hadn't he taken Archie back to Hogwarts the second Potter pulled the cloak off him? He knew about the mirror; he knew that Snape knew, and he knew that something had changed this day. It had been a step too far. Snape had given him the thrashing of his life when he'd tried to hex Potter back in September; this was so much worse. Malfoy Manor wasn't his home. His home was here, with Millicent bossing him around, Bletchley and Latimer teasing him, and Alicia Mayhew annoying him to death. And so it went; each person in the room reflecting on the loss they'd feel. It was a long time before anyone spoke, and when they did, it was Pucey.
"An odd little excursion, eh?! But it's over now!"
A little forced, lacking his usual injection of breeziness, but top marks for trying, Pucey.
"Not quite." Said Harry, "How long until Snape notices this is missing?"
He held up the cloak, and the whole room groaned.
"It was easy to get." Assured Archie, "Professor Snape's working in his classroom."
Malfoy, still a little buoyed by his above-and-beyond act of bravery, volunteered to replace the cloak. No one was trusting Archie.
"You just need to make sure AB's not there." Said the first-year.
"What?!" Cried Bletchley.
"AB." Repeated Archie, "He's been helping Professor Snape all day. I heard them talking when I came back from Professor McGonagall, and when I got the cloak."
"Why didn't you tell us before?!"
"You never asked!"
The day's maelstrom of emotions was draining them fast. The vindictiveness of the planning, the excitement of the escape, the shock at Archie's appearance, the fear of the madman and all that his presence entailed, the fleeting relief, the sense of desolation, and now this … the spurious nature and ultimate futility of the whole Hogsmeade trip laid bare. Bletchley was close to tears, and it got worse when Crabbe spoke.
"That's why Snape stopped the Hogsmeade visit … he knew our dads would be there. You know the madman was one of them, don't you?"
The silence of the room was a tacit acceptance of his words. You poor bastards, thought Harry. A dead dad's got to be better than a dad you want dead.
oOo
Thank God Snape had made them write out a timetable; keeping to that was the only thing that shifted their leaden bodies off the benches. They were due on the practice pitch, and so Harry, Crabbe, Goyle and Bletchley trudged to the changing rooms, taking Archie with them. Nott had apparently left a book of Millicent's on the window seat, and needed to take it back to the common room. Pucey went to get some strapping for his ankle; he'd hurt it in the race back from Hogsmeade, and Malfoy had to replace the cloak.
oOo
The dungeons, 3:00 pm
It was another close shave for Malfoy. He sneaked from Snape's office through to his study, and then realised the interconnecting door to his classroom was open. The cloak was over him, but what to do when he replaced it? The cupboard door creaked as he opened it. Snape heard.
"Did you leave the cupboard open?"
"Sorry, sir; I must've done. Shall I close it?"
"No. There are no students around."
Draco bet Snape kept the hinges creaky on purpose. He then set about re-placing the cloak in the prescribed manner: patterned side out, folded into a triangle, on the right of the third shelf, and overhanging by two inches. Silently edging through the door, he flattened himself against the wall of the study and got out without even breathing.
oOo
They'd spent fourteen long hours agonizing over the Wolfsbane. Working with Snape was certainly interesting; the man was preternaturally gifted with potions. But he was also the moodiest person on the planet. Snape had roared at AB for humming quietly whilst simmering the shrivelled figs; if AB didn't treat the task with reverence, he could get out. He'd kept shtum after that, only for Snape to complain he'd have livelier companions in St Mungo's morgue. So AB gauged Snape's moods and modified his own to fit. When Snape was frustrated, he was frustrated. When Snape felt pessimistic, so did he. But that backfired, too.
"Stop that! Two dismal bastards haven't got a hope in hell of cracking this; just be you!"
oOo
The dark heads stared at the cauldron and willed the fumes to change from green to even the vaguest hint of blue. Unsuccessfully.
"We've diced, sliced, crushed, shredded and pared, sir. We're running out of options."
"We were most probably out of options at two o'clock this morning, Peter." Snape replied gloomily.
"Oh, buck up, Severus!"
Snape dropped his spatula.
"Severus? Severus? Have you been breathing in too many fumes, Mister Armitage-Brown?!"
I must've been; what the hell was I thinking? Thought AB. The room went so quiet he swore he heard the fumes rising. And then he heard something else, a deep chuckle from his companion.
"Well?" Demanded Snape.
"Well what, sir?"
"Tell me something to make me 'buck up'!"
And, gloriously, a thought came to mind.
"We know the properties of Lady's Mantle; it should perform the same as the mistletoe berries. We've tried every way there is of preparing it …"
"Go on." Encouraged Snape.
"Well, maybe it's not the cut at all. Maybe it's the equipment we've been using."
"You could be on to something, Peter."
They ransacked the classroom for different utensils, a silver paring knife, glass cannulas infused with unicorn hair, copper flasks, pewter tongs. Severus even dug out some pipettes, the barrels of which were made from spun Acromantula web. They'd been the next great advance in potions-making in the seventies, and then disappeared without trace. With the pipettes came a memory of days long past.
On his last day as a Slytherin student, Lucius Malfoy had taken sad, little Severus aside and given him a solid silver cauldron.
"Cheer up, Severus. That's a Malfoy family heirloom. So you see, you and I are not truly parting; your ownership of that makes you part of the Malfoy family."
It was one of the few gifts he'd received as a child, and certainly the most expensive. Severus treasured it too much to use it; he kept it hidden. Lucius had been kind and loyal, and it had cut Severus like a knife when he left. Some years later, he saw racks of the same cauldron for sale in Diagon Alley, and he realised the heirloom tale, along with so much of Lucius, was pure bunkum. But in an odd way, that made the gift all the more precious. Severus ranked flaws higher than perfection; a person who's never struggled with darkness is never truly able to understand good.
"Sir? Sir?"
Armitage-Brown was calling him. He fought his way out of reverie.
"Is that all the equipment, sir? Shall I start decanting the potion into smaller amounts?"
"Not quite all … I have something else in my rooms."
oOo
Quidditch practice pitch, 3:40 pm
"Where've you been?!" Malfoy asked Nott.
"I told you; I had to replace Millicent's book. You know what she's like."
"Took you long enough." Grumbled Malfoy, "Block the goal; this lot are slaughtering us, and I'm not losing to Archie. Not after the trouble he's caused."
The boys had slowly eased off their mantle of misery, and were playing four-a-side quidditch. Malfoy had his usual undersupply of equanimity at being on the losing side, but his fortunes were about to change.
"Oh, bugger! The girls! They're still in the owlery!" Cried Harry, pulling up abruptly on his broom.
"Better go up and get them, then! Chop, chop!" Smirked Draco.
It was his only real chance at catching the snitch, with Potter off the field. And he wasn't too proud to take it.
oOo
The Owlery, 4:00 pm
"Finally!"
Alicia Mayhew was desperate for the lavatory, but she still stopped to turn around and hurl some exploding bonbons in Harry's face.
"Sorry!" Called Harry, hovering on his broom, "We've just got back!"
"Rubbish!" Shouted Alicia, as she went clattering down the stairs, "You didn't go out in quidditch gear; you forgot us!"
Harry ate two of the bonbons he'd caught, and wondered why he'd bothered trying to fool Alicia. She was a first-year, but sharp as a tack. He zoomed off, hoping the Platinum Prat hadn't got the snitch.
oOo
Slytherin corridor, 4:10 pm
"Whoa!"
Alicia threw herself against the wall as Snape charged past, almost trampling Elsa. He pulled up in time, picked her up under her arms, and spun her around in a circle.
"My apologies, Miss Tobin! How are you?"
"Fine! You look happy, sir!" Giggled Elsa.
"There is a vague possibility of late sunshine on the horizon!"
He turned to Alicia.
"And how's my little mischief-maker? Are you going to show me the dance steps you've learnt?"
Alicia heard Elsa's breath catch. But fortunately for Potter and his crew, she was the youngest of six siblings, and as such, a dab hand at covering up the wrongdoings of others. She leapt forward at once,
"Yes, I will!"
and grasped Snape's hands,
"But only if you partner me, sir!"
Podgy Alicia Mayhew stamping all over his feet? The very same feet he'd been standing up on for aeons to stir and check that damn potion? No, no, no. Snape patted her head, smiled, and politely deferred that treat for another time. He made for his rooms, and what he hoped would be the key to the Wolfsbane conundrum.
oOo
The silver cauldron tucked under his arm, Snape was walking back to the classroom via his office when he stopped. Something was bothering him about Mayhew and Tobin. Why had they been alone? They should have been with Pucey and the boys. And what was Alicia Mayhew doing with that bag of sweets? Her family never sent Friday parcels. He thought about Elsa; she was a shy child, but why gasp when he asked to see the dancing? Because maybe they never damn well learned any dances. Clever, little Alicia Mayhew had stepped into the breach and called his bluff.
All conjecture, of course, but Severus had a nose for subterfuge. The second he opened his office door, conjecture turned into outright suspicion. The unmistakable smell of Pungous onion permeated the room. How? Looking around, he saw a conical flask on its side, the contents dripping onto the stone. It made no sense. His heart rate picked up as he walked into his study. The cupboard door was wide open, and he saw it immediately: Potter's blasted cloak, unfolded, on the second shelf instead of the third.
Potter knew where the cloak was kept. Snape had led him right to it the night he wanted the boy to go into the Dark Forest and see the dragons. The boy had replaced it, and Snape had trusted him to leave it alone. More fool him. He knew exactly what had gone on today, and it made him furious. Duped by Potter, and outfoxed by eleven-year-old Alicia Mayhew. Snape moved several degrees beyond furious.
There was a little-used cabinet behind Snape's desk, but he went straight to it that afternoon. The last time he'd opened it was three years ago with Marcus Flint, and the only time before that with Dominic Aspinall and Gertrude Howell in 1982. He pulled out the cane, and stood flexing it just as AB knocked and came through the door.
"Sir? Did you get the silver … oh …"
"On the office work bench, Mister Armitage-Brown."
Snape nodded towards the office, but AB didn't move.
"It's entirely warranted; I can assure you of that."
Snape gave the cane a single swish to test its efficacy, and left.
oOo
Quidditch practice pitch, 4:30 pm
They were too busy arguing over the score to see him come, but that happy state of affairs didn't last. The boys felt their brooms drift towards the ground. When they stood before him, it was Harry who was firmly in Snape's sights, but as the housemaster remained silent and slowly held up the shimmering fabric, it was Archie who gave the tell-tale whimper and groan.
"My study. All of you."
oOo
Slytherin common room, 5:10 pm
What the hell's happened, Potter? Millicent stood on the steps and looked behind her. Sophie and Latimer gave a 'we don't know, either' shake of their heads. In front of them all, Alicia and Elsa stood next to an armchair, staring at their feet. The door flew open and Snape rushed the boys in. Alicia and Elsa leapt back as he took hold of Bletchley and bent him over the armchair.
It was, thought Millicent, like the car crash she'd once been in with her Muggle mother - so quick, and yet time seemed to slow, highlighting every action and reaction. The whole house held their breaths at the cane's rapid flight through the air, flinched in unison at the dull thud, and winced as Bletchley grimaced through each of the six stinging strokes. They all got it, even Archie. And then Snape turned to Elsa and Alicia.
"You lied, and you obfuscated."
Alicia saw Elsa give a brave nod. If she can do this, I can, she thought. They got two each - and it hurt like the blazes.
"No one leaves the castle grounds without permission!"
He left the common room without another word.
Snape's rooms
Severus closed the door, and leant back upon it. He looked at the cane he still held. Nope, didn't regret a damn thing. He didn't regret caning them, nor did he regret doing it in front of the entire house. As soon as he'd seen Delingpole, he knew the child had been to Hogsmeade. And when the truth had come out, it had taken all his reserves not to lash out at the young fools. So, no. No regrets.
Yet Malfoy's reports of the 'man in black' came as a relief to Snape, not as callous as it sounds. He didn't have the luxury of indulging his emotions; he had to be pragmatic. And pragmatically-speaking, this was a good thing. It meant Marcus's father, Jasper Flint, had given him sound intelligence. The Dark Lord was coming back; the race was on for the mirror. His Snakes would need to stay in line if they were to have any hope of surviving the grim times ahead. Walking into his sitting room, he placed the cane on his table and stood by the fire.
Should he expel Bletchley? The boy admitted inciting the others into going to Hogsmeade, and all over not being made prefect. Severus felt like giving him another six. But if he expelled Bletchley, why not the others? They'd willingly joined him. He looked down at his forearm, and the mark upon it. Blind followers were every bit as dangerous as instigators in Snape's book. Worse even. They had distance at their disposal; they could see the madness from afar, and if they chose to follow a mad man to sate their own pathetic needs, then they deserved the same fate.
Bletchley and the others hadn't intended Delingpole to go, but so what? Intentions meant nothing. By their actions they'd disobeyed Snape, and nearly brought about catastrophe. It was unforgivable. He'd be justified in getting rid of the lot of them. Rage at their stupidity welled within him once more. He closed his eyes, dropped his forehead to the cool of the marble mantel and thought. When someone does something unforgivable, the only sane response is to forgive. What's the alternative? Devote your life to being bitter? He'd tried that … and found the outcome less than desirable.
oOo
A pot of tea and seven cigarettes of contemplation later found Snape in a more forgiving mood. The boys' actions that afternoon had scared him, but nowhere near as much as they'd scared the boys. He thought of how he'd left them back in the common room, shocked and sore. Deservedly so, but it wouldn't do to keep them like that. Alienated and unforgiven children were the most dangerous commodity in the world; abandon them and you have no idea who they'll cleave to for acceptance.
He didn't know if any of them would make it through to the other side, but regardless, he and his house were in this together. Time to grant absolution and draw them back into the fold. Shortly he'd be off to check on the cretinous Delingpoles. He couldn't leave it like this. He dried his tea cup and put it back in the cupboard. The cupboard … why was Potter's cloak on the second shelf of his store cupboard? Malfoy had replaced it; there was no way he'd make such a basic error. And what had been happening with the Pungous onion? The more Severus thought on it, the more hopeful he felt.
oOo
The common room, 6:00 pm
Diminished. That's how they looked. The usual skylarking, bragging and bickering had left the room. Snape knew first-hand how much a decent caning hurt, but it wasn't bad enough to provoke this reaction. Had more happened in Hogsmeade than he'd been told?
Most of the students were on the carpet, the sofas having been commandeered by the recently-punished, who lay prone, keeping any pressure off their aching backsides. But they all drooped like pillows with too few feathers in them. There was some murmuring, but most were silent - though Vincent Crabbe was making a gallant attempt at cheering Delingpole,
"Look at it this way, Archie." Crabbe said softly, "You're only half-way through your first year, and you've already had six of the best from Snape: you're the toughest kid in Hogwarts!"
Red-rimmed eyes turned to Crabbe.
"Am I? I wish I wasn't."
"Snape won't boot you out of Hogwarts." Said Goyle, "It was our fault; we'll be the ones going."
So that was it.
He left the darkened corner of the common room, and strode to the middle. Students began to stand, but he waved them back down.
"Stay sitting. After much consideration, I have an unpleasant announcement to make …"
It was Snape's tone that alarmed his house; it had lost its trademark vituperative edge. Pansy looked to Draco, and tears welled in her eyes. This is it, thought all the boys.
"It occurs to me," Said Snape, "that I am the most aggrieved head of house in Hogwarts."
There'd been a near-imperceptible shift in tone, but it was just enough to kindle hope.
"Not only do I have a prefect who will undoubtedly go down in the annals of history as the most idiotic,"
Safe! No one was being expelled. The second Snape sneered and insulted, everything in their Slytherin world was right again.
" … I also have students incapable of behaving themselves for longer than the life-cycle of a mayfly."
Millicent started it. She leant over and surreptitiously poked Potter on his caned backside. He 'ouched!' and before long, nine more hisses and 'ouches' spread around the room. A textbook example of Slytherin forgiveness.
"And the rest of you!"
What had they done? They awaited Snape's accusation with glee.
"You abandoned me! A whole day spent scurrying after Professor McGonagall, flirting with Professor Flitwick and, no doubt, confiding in Professor Sprout about your … disappointing housemaster."
They snickered at the egregious self-pity, and waited for more.
"As if this treachery wasn't enough, not one of you has come up with a decent plan for how we shall entertain ourselves tomorrow. What callous brutes you all are!"
"We're spending the whole day together?!" Asked Malcolm Baddock.
"This is Slytherin House," Answered Snape, "and Slytherin House sticks together."
