Disclaimer: All characters are property J.K. Rowling; no © infringement intended or profit made.
Notes: Vector. Vector?! Well, why not Vector? She never gets any play. Oh, and Lara Croft is the Ancient Runes professor. We just needed a name, and that one sounded somewhat apt.
Oh, and if anyone's got the songs from the Buffy musical, listen to "I've Got a Theory" during Filch's part, only replace Anya's "Bunnies!" bit with "I've got a theory -- it could be Weasleys." "....I've got a theory--" "Weasleys aren't just cute like everybody supposes! They've got them toilet seats and freckley little noses! And what's with all the carrot tops? What do they need so much red hair for anywayyy?! Weasleys! Weasleys! It must be WEASLEYS!!"
Chapter 1 - The Shitteth Hath Hitteth the Fan....eth
One week later found the faculty members once again settled into their routines of moulding young minds like mashed potatoes (which, after a summer of fun, frolic and procrastination concerning homework, is what the majority of the students' brains were composed of). Their demeanours tended toward the professional in the presence of the students, Longbottom had melted his first cauldron of the year, Finnigan was well-singed from his first water-to-rum attempt, and for all basic intents and purposes, everything was rather normal - or normal as could be expected in a castle full of witches, wizards, cats, rats, toads, owls, spiders, venomous plants, shrieking books, ghosts, a part-time dog, and a phoenix in a pear tree.
By this time, most of alumni from the various houses had indeed met and discussed the school's safety wards as had been asked of them, and were beginning to meet with each other to go over ways to combine ideas.
"Like a bloody quilting club..." Vector muttered to herself as she made her way down from her third-floor Arithmancy classroom to the first-floor Muggle Studies one. In the Ravenclaw cluster of six faculty members, including Professor Binns, intellectual diplomacy reigned supreme. They'd opted to go to the Gryffindors first (though Vector would have much preferred conversing with the Slytherins) and, since Flitwick had been nominated to go to McGonagall for a Head of House tete-a-tete, and Hooch had been chosen to act as an ambassador to Hagrid (he would no doubt wish to talk over drinks, and no one could hold as much liquor as Hagrid besides Hagrid himself than Xiomara Hooch), she, Victoria Vector, had been voted the Ravenclaw representative to corner Sirius Black, the only man on the staff that was beginning to grate her nerves as much as Gilderoy Lockhart had some two years ago. "You think more like a Gryffindor than any of us," Flitwick had argued when she'd protested the job. "Yeah," Hooch had agreed. "You're loud, rude, and mad. You'll get along swimmingly." Hooch's arm still held the bruise attesting Vector's displeasure with her comment.
"Bollocks to them," she chanted lowly with each step. "Bollocks to them, bollocks to them, bollocks to them...bastards...bastard Black...mutter...arrogant ex-Azkabanian...grumble..."
She reached the classroom door and didn't bother knocking before going inside. It was 10:10 on a Monday, and the mid-morning break was half-over. She had timed this little chat to take the least amount of time possible -- five minutes, tops, before she would have to leave to make it back to her classroom on time before second period.
Black was sitting behind his desk, far less alone than she thought he'd be. The Dream Team was crowded in front of him like a small pack of groupies, laughing about having the snuffles or some such rot before shutting up abruptly and looking at her as though she were Death Eater who'd popped 'round for tea. As Victoria didn't see the humour in having a cold, nor did she find the looks she was getting very flattering, she got right down to business.
"Black, d'you have five minutes?"
He stretched and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head. "But of course, Professor." He turned to Granger, Potter and Weasley. "Excuse us, please. And Harry -- remember the, ah, kibble." Potter nodded, and the three Gryffindors left the room. Once they were gone, Vector assumed her Authority Figure stance of hands-on-hips and regarded the lazy-looking man behind the desk with a glare.
"The security wards on the school -- have you come up with any ideas yet on how to improve them?"
"A few."
"Then do share them so that I can be on my way."
He sighed, sitting up straight to prop up his elbows on top of his desk and rest his chin in his hands. The thought that he looked rather roguishly handsome like that worked its way into Vector's mind, and she quickly hissed and scratched at it until it went away and was replaced by the more welcome, more familiar thought of 'Ugh. Black.'
"No," he said.
"No? What d'you mean, 'no'? Professor Dumbledore said that we were to--"
"I know what Dumbledore said. I'm not concerned about what Dumbledore said. I am, on the other hand, concerned about what _you_ said - or didn't say, as the case may be."
"What are you on about?" she snapped, despising confusion, despising Black, despising the valuable seconds of her life ticking away because of the first two.
"You didn't say 'please'."
She scowled, folded her arms over her chest and stepped toward the desk. Alarm bells rang in Black's head, and he stood quickly, hand hovering near his wand should he need to defend himself -- perhaps he shouldn't have egged her on so much over the last week. But she _was_ rather pretty - slender, blonde hair, nice eyes - and she _had_ hit him...
'Oh, what are you, a first-year?' his mind snorted at him. 'There _is_ a difference between being hit and being hit _on_. If there isn't, you've been flirting with Snape more than anyone else for years.' He shuddered involuntarily at the thought and swallowed to repress a gag.
Vector smirked at him and arched a pale eyebrow. "Professor -- and I do use the word as lightly as with Miss Delacour -- it is in your best interests not to scold my manners as you would a student's, especially when you yourself are lacking in such. And for goodness' sake, either grab your wand or don't - indecisiveness is the true mark of an amateur."
'Now _that_ was being hit _on_.'
"Well...maybe it's a sign that I want someone else to grab it," he tried, eyebrows raised suggestively.
"What?"
'Bewildered look. Assessment negative. Abort! Abort! Warning! Danger, Sirius Black, danger!'
"Nothing, never mind."
She frowned at him peculiarly for a few moments before deciding on a scoff as the best course of action. "Whatever. D'you have anything relevant to tell me or not? I wanna get back to me class 'fore me students get there."
'Subject dropping proper speech, granting full accent permission to return. Positive development.' "Actually, yes. I was going over the charms weaved around the West Tower to prevent an attack from above, and I found a small snag that would allow..." He paused, swaying slightly, his eyes glazing over. Vector was about to ask him what was wrong when she felt it, too -- a wave of something indescribable passing around and through her, like dizziness from the outside. The room spun and warped for a few seconds before finally settling down again. The wave left her just as quickly as it had come, leaving her breathless and unsteady. She shut her eyes and shook her head, and didn't think to be troubled by the phenomenon until she heard a nearby gasp and opened her eyes.
A young man -- he couldn't have been older than fifteen -- stood before her, gaping in shock. His black hair spiked in curly, jagged tufts, as though he had tried to cut it himself and had failed miserably. He was thin but athletic-looking, and the robes he wore looked quite a few sizes too big. "Vic...Victoria?" he asked, and then cleared his throat and said her name again. He looked shocked that the voice coming from his mouth was his own.
"Do I know you?" Vector asked him, and saw what he meant -- her voice, too, was higher pitched than normal. She looked down and found that her own robes were oversized -- had she shrunk? "What's happened? Why am I so short? Where'd me tits go? And what the bloody fuck is wrong with my voice?!"
"It _is_ you," the young man said, looking even more confused, if it were possible.
"Of course it's me, you hole! Who're you?" Her eyes searched his -- they were deep-set and dark, and looked as though their age didn't fit in his body. It hit her then, like a ton of bricks. Her hand flew to her mouth in disbelief. "Black?" she ventured, and the young man nodded dumbly. "What -- y'look like a kid!"
"You're not exactly showing your age, either."
"Dumbledore -- we have to find Dumbledore. He'll know what's happened. He's gotta. He's never not known before."
"I have no idea what's going on," Dumbledore -- or the teenager claiming to be him -- paced around the room, tripping over his robes. The entire faculty had gathered in his office in a panic, every one of them reduced by at least half their age. The lanky, gloomy-looking boy in the corner -- Snape -- scowled angrily at the whole predicament.
"Isn't it obvious?" he snapped, the usual respect he harboured for Dumbledore slowly melting away with the absence of the old wizard's beard and the rush of newly-discovered teenaged petulance. "We're children again! Someone's cursed us!"
The small blonde draped over one of the large chairs in front of Dumbledore's desk - Hooch - rolled her yellow eyes. "Not to sound anymore juvenile than I look, but...DUH."
"Voldemort," a soft voice came from the back of the room. A skinny girl with wavy black hair that refused to behave no matter how much she patted it down pouted at the young Dumbledore. "He must have done something -- though _how_..." Sinistra trailed off, glancing surreptitiously at Snape, who only gave her a small shrug.
"Weasleys," a gawky Filch hissed, somehow managing to retain the ever-present bitterness in his young, thin face. "Those blasted twins have pulled every prank in the book -- this is just the icing on the cake of what schemes those little weasels got cooked up, I'll bet ten Galleons on it!" Unsurprisingly, this got marked down -- even in times of crisis, some things simply can't go overlooked.
"Everyone, calm down," a mini-McGonagall began -- her usual severe bun had switched into twin braided pigtails, about which she looked none too happy. "We'll find a way to fix this."
"You're damn right, we will," Snape muttered, slouching against the wall. Black smirked at him.
"Poor Severus. His first childhood didn't agree with him -- I can't wait to see how the second one progresses."
"Try anything and you're dead, Black."
"Not if I kill you first."
"Now, now, boys, you're both pretty."
"Shut it, Xiomara!"
"CHILDREN!" a surprisingly loud voice erupted from a very, very tiny Professor Flitwick. "Like it or not, for now we are stuck like this, and the only way to get out of it is if we _work together_ to find a logical solution." Several looks of bewilderment blinked back at him, and he shrank back a little, which made him appear almost the size of a cat. "Why do you all seem so surprised? I _am_ a Ravenclaw, you know." A short, chubby girl with curly brown hair -- Professor Sprout -- patted him supportively on the shoulder.
"Professor Flitwick is right," Dumbledore spoke up, rubbing the back of his neck and marvelling at the lack of beard-weight pulling down on his head. He turned to each of them as he handed out orders. "Minerva, you, Irma and Filius research everything on adult-to-child Transfiguration you can, see if we can't find out how to reverse whatever curse caused this. Poppy, you and Salvia see if you can come up with a medicinal antidote. It's a long shot, but desperate times, etc.
"Severus, Selene, pore through every Potions and Curses book you can get your hands on, see if there isn't some concoction we can brew up. Xiomara, you, Fleur and I will talk to Professor Binns, find out if he's ever seen anything like this before, or if he's come across a reference to it in one of his history texts.
"Sibyll...see.
"Sirius, Victoria -- take down everyone's size and go to Hogsmeade. Buy us some robes that fit. Hagrid, you and Lara go as well. I want you to go to the Three Broomsticks, inform Rosmerta what's happened, and tell her to send as much liquor as she can spare."
"Albus!" McGonagall gawked at him, and Dumbledore shrugged helplessly, somehow looking older than he normally did.
"I'm sorry, but I'm only fifteen! I'm not built to handle this kind of pressure yet!"
"I need a cigarette," Vector muttered, stalking out of the room.
"Make that a pack," Sinistra sighed, following.
"Inform the students that classes are cancelled today, and that they are all to report to the Great Hall," Albus called as they filed out of the office. "I'll address them on this...incident."
The school was askew - the students had shown up for their classes, but their teachers hadn't.
"This is just...beyond weird," Ron mumbled. "Snape's never late, let alone absent. D'you reckon he's dead?"
Hermione scoffed at the thought, though she did look the tiniest bit hopeful. "If he were dead, someone would've told us."
"Do you think this is some sort of test?" asked Dean Thomas, which caused a flash of utter fear to pass over Neville Longbottom's face.
"I wouldn't put it past him," Parvati Patil muttered, and Lavender Brown nodded in agreement with her best friend.
"Tell no one what the assignment is, and then fail everyone."
They all exchanged glum glances and sighed in unison, "Except the Slytherins."
At that moment, a glowering young man in too-large robes that none of the students had ever seen before stormed into the room and stood at the front of the class. His black hair hung limply around his thin face, making him appear vampiric, like a grumpy-looking bat. "All of you, to the Great Hall. Now," he barked.
Nobody moved. Draco Malfoy was the first one to speak.
"Who are you and why do you think you can tell us what to do?"
"My patience is thin, Mr. Malfoy. I advise you not to question me and to get - to - the - Great - Hall - NOW." He bore down upon the blond boy with a familiar piercing glare that caused Draco's eyes to widen considerably.
"...Professor Snape?" Malfoy ventured quietly. The boy standing at the front said nothing. "What…what's happened to you?"
"Dumbledore will explain, best as he can manage. Now go."
Slowly, the class rose, gathered up their things, and left, not taking their eyes off the de-aged Snape the entire time.
Confusion reigned in the Great Hall. All of the students had taken their seats at their respective tables, and were looking around with looks of astonishment, whispering amongst themselves so that the entire room echoed with what sounded like a large air leak. The teachers were all sitting in their usual places, and Harry counted down the line, his mouth dropping as he recognized each of them in turn.
"Look at them all," Ron hissed, his brow furrowed. "Hooch, Vector, Sprout, Snape, Sinistra, Hagrid, McGonagall, Dumbledore, Flitwick, Sirius, Pomfrey, Trelawney, Croft, Delacour, Pince..."
"It's amazing," Hermione whispered. "They're all...all..."
"Our age," Harry finished for her.
The fifteen-year-old Dumbledore raised his arms, calling for silence, which came a good bit slower than it usually did. Harry took in Dumbledore's appearance. His purple robes looked more like a bunch of curtains hanging off his narrow shoulders. No beard, and his silvery hair was now much shorter and auburn in colour.
"I know you're all wondering what's happened to us," the headmaster began, "and I'm sorry to say that we haven't a clue. We're not yet sure who cast this spell or how to undo it. But I must make it perfectly clear to all of you that our appearances change nothing. We are still in charge of this school, and if we can't remedy this by tonight, then tomorrow will happen just like any other day. You will go to your classes, we will teach, and you will show the same amount of respect for your professors that you always have. Any insubordination that happens due to our appearances will be met with swift punishment, and while I don't expect any of you to take advantage, I must make it clear none the less. Now, are they any questions, other than the obvious?"
Morag MacDougal, a fifth-year Ravenclaw, raised her hand.
"Yes?" Dumbledore asked.
"The Ministry of Magic -- do they know what's happened?"
"I am going to inform them immediately after this assembly. Anything else?" No one raised their hand. "I want you all to spend the day doing what you'd normally do on a free day, but I ask that you not go wandering the grounds without an adult -- er, a teacher -- present. This means no Quidditch practice--" A chorus of groans erupted from the Hufflepuff table, who had signed up to have the field that day. "--for today only. I ask that you all keep an eye open for danger, and that you alert one of us should you see anything suspicious on campus. Be careful, and enjoy your day. You are all free to go."
The students exited the Great Hall, some looking sick with worry, others looking ecstatic at the prospect of a weekday without classes. Harry, Ron and Hermione were the last and most reluctant to stand.
"You two go ahead," Harry told them. "I want to talk to Sirius."
"Okay."
"We'll see you in the common room."
They left, and Harry approached the long table at the front of the room. Sirius leapt over it easily and landed with the sort of grace only the young possess in front of him. Harry noticed he was still shorter than his godfather by about three inches. "Is everything going to be okay?" he asked, and Sirius smiled warmly at him.
"Of course it is. Just because we're shorter doesn't mean we're any less powerful." He frowned. "I think."
"How do you feel?"
"Well, 'like a kid again' seems to be the obvious answer. It takes some getting used to, but I'm not complaining. I haven't felt this physically good in a long time, which makes me realise -- in actuality, I'm too old for this crap." He winked, and Harry chuckled.
"It's weird, seeing all the teachers like this..."
"Tell me about it. I never thought I'd see the day when the first thing that popped into my head at seeing McGonagall was 'ooh, foxy lady'."
Harry snorted, and Sirius grinned mischievously.
"But on the plus side -- old Severus doesn't seem to be enjoying himself. Not that he was much fun when he actually _was_ fifteen."
Harry nodded, casting a glance Snape's way. The Potions Master still looked furious, despite Sinistra's attempts to make him laugh. Eventually, she gave up and slouched down in her seat looking just as disgruntled.
"How long do you think this'll last?"
"Can't say. But I wouldn't worry about it if I were you. Hey, I'm going to Hogsmeade to get us all some robes that, y'know, fit - how's about I pick you up a few dungbombs at Zonko's? It's been ages since I've set off a dungbomb. We could do it together -- it'll be a bonding experience. Got a lot of time to make up for."
"Yeah, that'd be neat."
Vector sauntered over, grabbed Sirius by arm and started dragging him away impatiently. "Come on, let's hit the shops."
"See you later, Harry," Sirius called over his shoulder. "Keep your chin up, everything's gonna be fine."
~*~
Sinistra growled in frustration at the book she was thumbing through and slammed it shut. "This isn't working. We must have looked through a thousand books in the -- what time is it?"
Snape tore himself away from his own book to check his watch. "Quarter after two."
"It's been sixteen hours? _Sixteen bloody hours_?! This is completely hopeless!"
He glanced up at her, but said nothing. She sighed, exasperated with their fruitless search. They'd gone through the classrooms, their offices, the restricted section of the library, and were now working on Snape's private collection in his room, sitting on the uncomfortable stone floor in front of the massive bookcase with more than two dozen volumes of various Potions works scattered around them. Sinistra was sick of it. "I give up. My fingers are numb from page-turning, my eyes are numb from reading so damn much -- whatever we're looking for is not going to turn up here."
He still said nothing. With a small snarl, she rose and muttered something about stretching her legs.
Snape didn't seem to notice until he heard the distinct sound of bouncing bedsprings. Frowning, he looked up from what he was reading to find Sinistra jumping on his bed. "What are you doing?"
"What does it look like?" she bit back, turning away from him.
"Stop that at once."
"No."
Closing the book, Snape rose and walked over to the bed, putting on his most serious scowl. "I said, stop it."
"And I said no."
"Look," he said, "it's my bed, in my room, and I don't want you doing that on or in either."
At last, she stopped jumping and flopped down on her stomach, gazing up at him crossly. "Why not?"
"Because it's annoying. And immature."
"Both of which we are now, you know."
"In body alone," he snapped. She pulled herself up to sit on her knees so that she could look him directly in the eye.
"What's the matter? You're being uptight even for you."
He glared at her, and then turned and walked back toward the bookcase. She was on her feet immediately, chasing after him.
"Oh no -- you are _not_ going to storm off and brood." Her voice softened, "Come on, Severus. It's scary for all of us. Don't be like this now. Please."
He stopped, but refused to meet her eyes. "I'm not 'being like' anything. I just...I can't stand this. I hated being this age the first time around; I can't see how another go at it is going to make it any better. It's a useless age filled with useless people."
"Well..." she thought for a moment, seizing his hands in hers. "Maybe you just didn't have enough fun when you were fifteen. That doesn't mean you're not allowed to now." She gave him a tug and he reluctantly followed her back over to the bed. Letting go of one of his hands, she held up the bottom of her robes and climbed onto the springy mattress, and then pulled him up after her. "There. See? This isn't so bad, is it?"
"Don't talk to me like I'm a child."
"You are a child."
"Selene..."
"All right, all right." She smiled slyly at him and jumped a bit. "But do give it a try." He rolled his eyes, but she gave him her best pout and batted her lashes dramatically. "For me?"
Scowling, he relented a small bounce.
"Excellent. Now do that many times in succession."
"Don't push it, Sinistra."
She grinned, giving another little jump. "Wouldn't dream of it."
Draco Malfoy frowned as the stone dungeon wall that led into the Slytherin House common room slid open -- he knew he was the only one awake, and the light footfalls didn't sound like Snape, teenager or not. He turned away from the fire he was sitting in front of and found blonde girl it took him a few seconds to place slipping through the common room. "Madam Hooch?" he asked, and she turned startled, hawk-like eyes on him.
"Oh, Malfoy," she muttered, looking relieved. "What you still doing up?"
Draco shrugged, gesturing to the single-player chess game in front of him. "Couldn't sleep."
"Ah. I don't suppose you'd know where the History of Slytherin House book is hidden?"
The boy nodded and got up out of his seat to show her the secret place where the book was kept this year.
"Spectacular, thank you," she smiled, lifting the heavy, dusty volume in her arms with only some difficulty.
"Were you a Slytherin?" Malfoy asked, to which Hooch looked surprised.
"Oh, good gracious, no. Ravenclaw. But all the teachers have the passwords to get into the four common rooms -- safety reasons and whatnot."
The boy frowned, but shrugged indifferently. Hooch started back toward the trap door, then paused and turned to him again. "Malfoy, how awake would you say you are? D'you think you could run down to Professor Snape's room and tell him and Professor Sinistra to report to Professor Binns' room?"
"Sure, why not," he shrugged. Better to be bored and get credit for it than to just be bored.
"Thanks much."
With a low groan, the hidden door opened and Hooch disappeared, followed by Malfoy. They parted ways in the hall, and Draco padded toward Snape's room barefoot, pulling his green dressing gown tighter around him and wishing he'd brought his slippers. He was right outside the room when he heard a peculiar sound and stopped, pressed his ear to the door. The sound was unmistakable then, and he stepped back quite a few feet, his mouth hanging open in shock.
Bedsprings. Inside the room, bedsprings were being bounced up and down in a fashion he had no desire to imagine. "Ye gods, you have got to be kidding me," he muttered, his eyes riveted to the door, unsure of what to do. "Not even twenty-four hours of being hormonal teenagers and they're already..." He couldn't bring himself to say it out loud. "_I'm_ not even that bad. ...Wait a tic - _I'm_ not even that _good_. Oh, god! _Snape's_ getting more than I am!" A look of utter disgust, both toward himself and other people, came over his face at the revelation. "No! This can't be happening -- this isn't right! It's just...just...augh!"
He stopped talking to himself, and upon closer inspection, he could hear voices coming from the other side of the door.
"Come on, put some effort into it! There you go."
"Don't patronise me. This was your idea in the first place. My technique is fine."
"Yeah, for a beginner. But I've had lots more practice."
Draco's eyes nearly doubled in size, and a feeling of pure horror came over him. This was just too much -- his feet were cold, his ego bruised -- he had to put a stop to this. Raising a determined fist, he pounded on the door.
The bedsprings stopped immediately, and he heard two loud thumps, like two people hitting the floor one right after the other. The door opened slightly, and Professor Sinistra poked her head through. Her face was flushed, and her hair was unkempt.
"Malfoy, hello," she greeted him with a small smile, and Draco couldn't notice her slightly laboured breathing without making a face. "What's the matter?" she asked him, and he knew there was no way he could deny it. He threw her an accusing glare as Snape's head appeared above hers.
"I heard it all!" he nearly yelled. "God, how could you? You're only fifteen! And the fact that you're actually older just makes it creepier!"
Sinistra tilted her head, frowning. "What are you on about?" She opened the door the rest of the way, and Draco jumped back as if struck, covering his eyes with his hands.
"No! Are you people insane?! Shut the bloody door!"
He heard it click closed and slowly removed his hands from his eyes before jumping again, startled to find them on his side of it - and fully clothed.
"For goodness' sake, Malfoy, what is the matter with you?" Snape snapped, and Draco suddenly felt the kind of foolish that makes one blush crimson whether they want to or not.
"I hea--I mean, I came down here--" But suddenly he was at a loss for words. He remembered the words of his father -- state your business, and leave the rest of it up to them. Good, sound, sane advice. "Hoochwantstoseeyoushe'sinBinns'room," he muttered quickly, then turned and practically sprinted down the hall back toward the Slytherin dorms.
When he was out of sight, Sinistra looked questioningly at Snape. A tiny smirk played at his mouth, but he only shrugged.
When they got to the History of Magic room, they found Hooch, Delacour and Binns sitting on or hovering near random desks, each with books that could have felled a grown Hippogriff if thrown in front of them, and each -- save for the last -- with lavender half-circles beneath their eyes.
"Have you found anything?" Xiomara asked. Fleur looked up hopefully.
"No," said Snape tersely. "Where's the headmaster?"
"Up in his office, with Fudge. He's got the Ministry working on it, but gods know they couldn't find a lump in a sea of shit if you paid 'em to."
The Potions master scowled in annoyance. "Then why did you summon us, if you don't have anything helpful to contribute?"
"Well," the spectral history professor spoke up, "that's not entirely true. There's a very vague reference to something akin to this happening in the early seventh century, five hundred years before Hogwarts was constructed."
"I can do the math," Snape snapped, and Binns responded with a blustery cough of indignation.
"I wasn't implying that you couldn't, _Professor_."
"Don't tease the living, Binns," Hooch interrupted before Snape could retort, "or we'll exorcise your intangible old ass."
"Um, excuse me?" asked Sinistra. "If no one minds, could we please return to the _point_?"
Twin glares turned in her direction, and she met them with a vicious scowl of her own which she usually reserved for the Weasley twins.
"I think it would be best," Binns said slowly, "if we were to wait until Professor Dumbledore is present." He probably would have been argued with if Vector and Black hadn't chosen that moment to enter the classroom, bearing shopping bags full of robes in various colours and textures. They unloaded their burdens on a book-free desk and sighed, rubbing arms and shoulders wearily.
"Bugger all," Victoria grumbled to herself. "And to think I once _enjoyed_ shopping..."
"What took you so long?" Hooch asked, rummaging through the bags until Vector reached in and handed her two sets of robes, one in navy blue, one in tan, and a pair of brown suede boots.
"They didn't have all our measurements in stock; we had to wait for things to be altered. And we might've stopped for a bite to eat..."
Black snorted. "Or three."
"Bug off. I was hungry."
Black hurled two sets of black robes at Snape's head, and was met with a fierce glare.
"Pillock," Snape muttered.
"Wanker."
"Mongrel."
"Tight-ass."
"How kind of you to notice."
Sirius looked stricken. "Gross, Snape."
"Oh, _do_ fuck off, Black."
"After you. I insist."
They might have continued on until they reached the age of thirty-six the second time around had Vector not interrupted.
"We can't Apparate," she said suddenly. Three alarmed heads swivelled in her direction, six alarmed eyes widening. "Sirius and I tried when we were in Hogsmeade. No luck. We're not at full power."
Snape was the first to recover from the mild shock. "Oh, isn't this utterly _fabulous_. I can hardly wait to see what happens next. What do you think it will be, hm? McGonagall turning into a kitten? We're required to take the O.W.L.s again? Sprout and Longbottom will begin dating? At this point, nothing would surprise me."
"Severus..." Sinistra started. He turned to her, glowering.
"What? What do you want me to do, Selene? Put on a happy face and go jump on a bed until the situation's righted?"
Her hand met his face with a loud crack, sending him staggering -- apparently, there was _one_ thing that could still surprise him.
"Bastard," she spat, and stalked out of the room. Vector sighed irately at him and followed.
"Come on, 'Mara," she called over her shoulder. "Time for a ciggie break." Hooch needed no more encouragement.
"Smooth, Snape," Black sneered after the three girls had left. "Real smooth. What was that you were saying about _me_ being bitchslapped into next week on a regular basis?"
"Fuck. Off."
"Oi, Sulky," Vector shouted down the hallway. Sinistra paused in her dramatic exit and spun around to glare at the Arithmancy professor. "Don't gimme that look. I have...treasure." She waved a pack of Bubble & Squeak cigarettes, and had never seen her best friend run as fast as she did at that moment.
"Oh, Vic, I could kiss you," Sinistra sighed, cradling the pack as though it were a sacred object.
"Please don't."
"Hurry up and open 'em already," Hooch ordered. "Who cares if we're inside -- what's anyone gonna do, give us detention?"
"Good point."
The pack was quickly unwrapped and the cigarettes distributed. Vector lit all three with the tip of her wand and took a long drag -- then collapsed in a fit of choking, coughing and spluttering against the wall. Sinistra gasped, but managed not to fall into such a graceless heap as Victoria.
"Bloody--*cough*--hell," Vector hissed, getting her breath back. "That _hurt_."
"What's up with you, Xiomara? Why are you so damned unaffected?"
Hooch merely shrugged. "I started when I was thirteen. My lungs were already black by this age."
"Lucky bint."
"You know, this'd be a grand opportunity to quit..."
Hooch arched an eyebrow and took another drag, closed her eyes as if in bliss. Vector's resolve dissipated rapidly.
"Screw it. Got used to once, we'll get used to it again soon enough."
Future puffs were far less eventful, and they were nearly finished when McGonagall's voice, just as authoritative as it had always been, echoed from down the corridor a ways.
"You three had better not be doing what I _think_ you're doing!"
"Shit! It's the warden!" Vector whispered, resulting in fits of giggles from her cohorts. "Quick -- destroy the evidence!"
They blew whatever smoke was lingering in their lungs out behind each other's backs and tossed the remnants of the contraband on the floor to be stubbed out by boots and made to disappear with a wave of Sinistra's wand just as McGonagall, Dumbledore, and Cornelius Fudge approached, the first looking stern, the second tired, and the third about to wet himself from badly-concealed nervousness.
"Cornelius," Dumbledore addressed the Minister of Magic, "meet Victoria Vector, Selene Sinistra, and Xiomara Hooch, professors of Arithmancy, Astronomy, and Flying respectively," he introduced them. Fudge shook each girl's hand in turn.
"Binns reckons he's found something," Sinistra told the headmaster, whose tense expression didn't falter. Fudge, on the other hand, looked downright mitigated.
"Oh, isn't that a relief?" he sighed, taking off his bowler cap to run a hand through his sparse white hair.
"I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you, sir. From what he said, it's only a vague reference."
"Well, something is better than nothing," said Dumbledore, and motioned to the History of Magic classroom. "Shall we, then?"
He was met with nods, and the six filed through the door.
~*~
Well, that's chapter one. To our splendiferous reviewers, much thanks to Alchemine, uzun, lizza, Squiglet8, Mrs. Grim, Zoloft (nit-picking is all well and good -- the professors _were_ more immature than normal, but hey, they can't be professional twenty-four seven, especially on the holidays. And yeah, we've read Pratchett. We Enjoy Pratchett ;), Tess, Atheis, chibi neko, Nai and Elspeth (and yeah, no student/teacher relationship thingies here (for once from us ;), except for one future, very minor and never done before one strictly for a humourous scene we've got planned. Not a severely romancy fic).
Thanks again, you lot. Hope you enjoyed this part as much as the last.
Notes: Vector. Vector?! Well, why not Vector? She never gets any play. Oh, and Lara Croft is the Ancient Runes professor. We just needed a name, and that one sounded somewhat apt.
Oh, and if anyone's got the songs from the Buffy musical, listen to "I've Got a Theory" during Filch's part, only replace Anya's "Bunnies!" bit with "I've got a theory -- it could be Weasleys." "....I've got a theory--" "Weasleys aren't just cute like everybody supposes! They've got them toilet seats and freckley little noses! And what's with all the carrot tops? What do they need so much red hair for anywayyy?! Weasleys! Weasleys! It must be WEASLEYS!!"
Chapter 1 - The Shitteth Hath Hitteth the Fan....eth
One week later found the faculty members once again settled into their routines of moulding young minds like mashed potatoes (which, after a summer of fun, frolic and procrastination concerning homework, is what the majority of the students' brains were composed of). Their demeanours tended toward the professional in the presence of the students, Longbottom had melted his first cauldron of the year, Finnigan was well-singed from his first water-to-rum attempt, and for all basic intents and purposes, everything was rather normal - or normal as could be expected in a castle full of witches, wizards, cats, rats, toads, owls, spiders, venomous plants, shrieking books, ghosts, a part-time dog, and a phoenix in a pear tree.
By this time, most of alumni from the various houses had indeed met and discussed the school's safety wards as had been asked of them, and were beginning to meet with each other to go over ways to combine ideas.
"Like a bloody quilting club..." Vector muttered to herself as she made her way down from her third-floor Arithmancy classroom to the first-floor Muggle Studies one. In the Ravenclaw cluster of six faculty members, including Professor Binns, intellectual diplomacy reigned supreme. They'd opted to go to the Gryffindors first (though Vector would have much preferred conversing with the Slytherins) and, since Flitwick had been nominated to go to McGonagall for a Head of House tete-a-tete, and Hooch had been chosen to act as an ambassador to Hagrid (he would no doubt wish to talk over drinks, and no one could hold as much liquor as Hagrid besides Hagrid himself than Xiomara Hooch), she, Victoria Vector, had been voted the Ravenclaw representative to corner Sirius Black, the only man on the staff that was beginning to grate her nerves as much as Gilderoy Lockhart had some two years ago. "You think more like a Gryffindor than any of us," Flitwick had argued when she'd protested the job. "Yeah," Hooch had agreed. "You're loud, rude, and mad. You'll get along swimmingly." Hooch's arm still held the bruise attesting Vector's displeasure with her comment.
"Bollocks to them," she chanted lowly with each step. "Bollocks to them, bollocks to them, bollocks to them...bastards...bastard Black...mutter...arrogant ex-Azkabanian...grumble..."
She reached the classroom door and didn't bother knocking before going inside. It was 10:10 on a Monday, and the mid-morning break was half-over. She had timed this little chat to take the least amount of time possible -- five minutes, tops, before she would have to leave to make it back to her classroom on time before second period.
Black was sitting behind his desk, far less alone than she thought he'd be. The Dream Team was crowded in front of him like a small pack of groupies, laughing about having the snuffles or some such rot before shutting up abruptly and looking at her as though she were Death Eater who'd popped 'round for tea. As Victoria didn't see the humour in having a cold, nor did she find the looks she was getting very flattering, she got right down to business.
"Black, d'you have five minutes?"
He stretched and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head. "But of course, Professor." He turned to Granger, Potter and Weasley. "Excuse us, please. And Harry -- remember the, ah, kibble." Potter nodded, and the three Gryffindors left the room. Once they were gone, Vector assumed her Authority Figure stance of hands-on-hips and regarded the lazy-looking man behind the desk with a glare.
"The security wards on the school -- have you come up with any ideas yet on how to improve them?"
"A few."
"Then do share them so that I can be on my way."
He sighed, sitting up straight to prop up his elbows on top of his desk and rest his chin in his hands. The thought that he looked rather roguishly handsome like that worked its way into Vector's mind, and she quickly hissed and scratched at it until it went away and was replaced by the more welcome, more familiar thought of 'Ugh. Black.'
"No," he said.
"No? What d'you mean, 'no'? Professor Dumbledore said that we were to--"
"I know what Dumbledore said. I'm not concerned about what Dumbledore said. I am, on the other hand, concerned about what _you_ said - or didn't say, as the case may be."
"What are you on about?" she snapped, despising confusion, despising Black, despising the valuable seconds of her life ticking away because of the first two.
"You didn't say 'please'."
She scowled, folded her arms over her chest and stepped toward the desk. Alarm bells rang in Black's head, and he stood quickly, hand hovering near his wand should he need to defend himself -- perhaps he shouldn't have egged her on so much over the last week. But she _was_ rather pretty - slender, blonde hair, nice eyes - and she _had_ hit him...
'Oh, what are you, a first-year?' his mind snorted at him. 'There _is_ a difference between being hit and being hit _on_. If there isn't, you've been flirting with Snape more than anyone else for years.' He shuddered involuntarily at the thought and swallowed to repress a gag.
Vector smirked at him and arched a pale eyebrow. "Professor -- and I do use the word as lightly as with Miss Delacour -- it is in your best interests not to scold my manners as you would a student's, especially when you yourself are lacking in such. And for goodness' sake, either grab your wand or don't - indecisiveness is the true mark of an amateur."
'Now _that_ was being hit _on_.'
"Well...maybe it's a sign that I want someone else to grab it," he tried, eyebrows raised suggestively.
"What?"
'Bewildered look. Assessment negative. Abort! Abort! Warning! Danger, Sirius Black, danger!'
"Nothing, never mind."
She frowned at him peculiarly for a few moments before deciding on a scoff as the best course of action. "Whatever. D'you have anything relevant to tell me or not? I wanna get back to me class 'fore me students get there."
'Subject dropping proper speech, granting full accent permission to return. Positive development.' "Actually, yes. I was going over the charms weaved around the West Tower to prevent an attack from above, and I found a small snag that would allow..." He paused, swaying slightly, his eyes glazing over. Vector was about to ask him what was wrong when she felt it, too -- a wave of something indescribable passing around and through her, like dizziness from the outside. The room spun and warped for a few seconds before finally settling down again. The wave left her just as quickly as it had come, leaving her breathless and unsteady. She shut her eyes and shook her head, and didn't think to be troubled by the phenomenon until she heard a nearby gasp and opened her eyes.
A young man -- he couldn't have been older than fifteen -- stood before her, gaping in shock. His black hair spiked in curly, jagged tufts, as though he had tried to cut it himself and had failed miserably. He was thin but athletic-looking, and the robes he wore looked quite a few sizes too big. "Vic...Victoria?" he asked, and then cleared his throat and said her name again. He looked shocked that the voice coming from his mouth was his own.
"Do I know you?" Vector asked him, and saw what he meant -- her voice, too, was higher pitched than normal. She looked down and found that her own robes were oversized -- had she shrunk? "What's happened? Why am I so short? Where'd me tits go? And what the bloody fuck is wrong with my voice?!"
"It _is_ you," the young man said, looking even more confused, if it were possible.
"Of course it's me, you hole! Who're you?" Her eyes searched his -- they were deep-set and dark, and looked as though their age didn't fit in his body. It hit her then, like a ton of bricks. Her hand flew to her mouth in disbelief. "Black?" she ventured, and the young man nodded dumbly. "What -- y'look like a kid!"
"You're not exactly showing your age, either."
"Dumbledore -- we have to find Dumbledore. He'll know what's happened. He's gotta. He's never not known before."
"I have no idea what's going on," Dumbledore -- or the teenager claiming to be him -- paced around the room, tripping over his robes. The entire faculty had gathered in his office in a panic, every one of them reduced by at least half their age. The lanky, gloomy-looking boy in the corner -- Snape -- scowled angrily at the whole predicament.
"Isn't it obvious?" he snapped, the usual respect he harboured for Dumbledore slowly melting away with the absence of the old wizard's beard and the rush of newly-discovered teenaged petulance. "We're children again! Someone's cursed us!"
The small blonde draped over one of the large chairs in front of Dumbledore's desk - Hooch - rolled her yellow eyes. "Not to sound anymore juvenile than I look, but...DUH."
"Voldemort," a soft voice came from the back of the room. A skinny girl with wavy black hair that refused to behave no matter how much she patted it down pouted at the young Dumbledore. "He must have done something -- though _how_..." Sinistra trailed off, glancing surreptitiously at Snape, who only gave her a small shrug.
"Weasleys," a gawky Filch hissed, somehow managing to retain the ever-present bitterness in his young, thin face. "Those blasted twins have pulled every prank in the book -- this is just the icing on the cake of what schemes those little weasels got cooked up, I'll bet ten Galleons on it!" Unsurprisingly, this got marked down -- even in times of crisis, some things simply can't go overlooked.
"Everyone, calm down," a mini-McGonagall began -- her usual severe bun had switched into twin braided pigtails, about which she looked none too happy. "We'll find a way to fix this."
"You're damn right, we will," Snape muttered, slouching against the wall. Black smirked at him.
"Poor Severus. His first childhood didn't agree with him -- I can't wait to see how the second one progresses."
"Try anything and you're dead, Black."
"Not if I kill you first."
"Now, now, boys, you're both pretty."
"Shut it, Xiomara!"
"CHILDREN!" a surprisingly loud voice erupted from a very, very tiny Professor Flitwick. "Like it or not, for now we are stuck like this, and the only way to get out of it is if we _work together_ to find a logical solution." Several looks of bewilderment blinked back at him, and he shrank back a little, which made him appear almost the size of a cat. "Why do you all seem so surprised? I _am_ a Ravenclaw, you know." A short, chubby girl with curly brown hair -- Professor Sprout -- patted him supportively on the shoulder.
"Professor Flitwick is right," Dumbledore spoke up, rubbing the back of his neck and marvelling at the lack of beard-weight pulling down on his head. He turned to each of them as he handed out orders. "Minerva, you, Irma and Filius research everything on adult-to-child Transfiguration you can, see if we can't find out how to reverse whatever curse caused this. Poppy, you and Salvia see if you can come up with a medicinal antidote. It's a long shot, but desperate times, etc.
"Severus, Selene, pore through every Potions and Curses book you can get your hands on, see if there isn't some concoction we can brew up. Xiomara, you, Fleur and I will talk to Professor Binns, find out if he's ever seen anything like this before, or if he's come across a reference to it in one of his history texts.
"Sibyll...see.
"Sirius, Victoria -- take down everyone's size and go to Hogsmeade. Buy us some robes that fit. Hagrid, you and Lara go as well. I want you to go to the Three Broomsticks, inform Rosmerta what's happened, and tell her to send as much liquor as she can spare."
"Albus!" McGonagall gawked at him, and Dumbledore shrugged helplessly, somehow looking older than he normally did.
"I'm sorry, but I'm only fifteen! I'm not built to handle this kind of pressure yet!"
"I need a cigarette," Vector muttered, stalking out of the room.
"Make that a pack," Sinistra sighed, following.
"Inform the students that classes are cancelled today, and that they are all to report to the Great Hall," Albus called as they filed out of the office. "I'll address them on this...incident."
The school was askew - the students had shown up for their classes, but their teachers hadn't.
"This is just...beyond weird," Ron mumbled. "Snape's never late, let alone absent. D'you reckon he's dead?"
Hermione scoffed at the thought, though she did look the tiniest bit hopeful. "If he were dead, someone would've told us."
"Do you think this is some sort of test?" asked Dean Thomas, which caused a flash of utter fear to pass over Neville Longbottom's face.
"I wouldn't put it past him," Parvati Patil muttered, and Lavender Brown nodded in agreement with her best friend.
"Tell no one what the assignment is, and then fail everyone."
They all exchanged glum glances and sighed in unison, "Except the Slytherins."
At that moment, a glowering young man in too-large robes that none of the students had ever seen before stormed into the room and stood at the front of the class. His black hair hung limply around his thin face, making him appear vampiric, like a grumpy-looking bat. "All of you, to the Great Hall. Now," he barked.
Nobody moved. Draco Malfoy was the first one to speak.
"Who are you and why do you think you can tell us what to do?"
"My patience is thin, Mr. Malfoy. I advise you not to question me and to get - to - the - Great - Hall - NOW." He bore down upon the blond boy with a familiar piercing glare that caused Draco's eyes to widen considerably.
"...Professor Snape?" Malfoy ventured quietly. The boy standing at the front said nothing. "What…what's happened to you?"
"Dumbledore will explain, best as he can manage. Now go."
Slowly, the class rose, gathered up their things, and left, not taking their eyes off the de-aged Snape the entire time.
Confusion reigned in the Great Hall. All of the students had taken their seats at their respective tables, and were looking around with looks of astonishment, whispering amongst themselves so that the entire room echoed with what sounded like a large air leak. The teachers were all sitting in their usual places, and Harry counted down the line, his mouth dropping as he recognized each of them in turn.
"Look at them all," Ron hissed, his brow furrowed. "Hooch, Vector, Sprout, Snape, Sinistra, Hagrid, McGonagall, Dumbledore, Flitwick, Sirius, Pomfrey, Trelawney, Croft, Delacour, Pince..."
"It's amazing," Hermione whispered. "They're all...all..."
"Our age," Harry finished for her.
The fifteen-year-old Dumbledore raised his arms, calling for silence, which came a good bit slower than it usually did. Harry took in Dumbledore's appearance. His purple robes looked more like a bunch of curtains hanging off his narrow shoulders. No beard, and his silvery hair was now much shorter and auburn in colour.
"I know you're all wondering what's happened to us," the headmaster began, "and I'm sorry to say that we haven't a clue. We're not yet sure who cast this spell or how to undo it. But I must make it perfectly clear to all of you that our appearances change nothing. We are still in charge of this school, and if we can't remedy this by tonight, then tomorrow will happen just like any other day. You will go to your classes, we will teach, and you will show the same amount of respect for your professors that you always have. Any insubordination that happens due to our appearances will be met with swift punishment, and while I don't expect any of you to take advantage, I must make it clear none the less. Now, are they any questions, other than the obvious?"
Morag MacDougal, a fifth-year Ravenclaw, raised her hand.
"Yes?" Dumbledore asked.
"The Ministry of Magic -- do they know what's happened?"
"I am going to inform them immediately after this assembly. Anything else?" No one raised their hand. "I want you all to spend the day doing what you'd normally do on a free day, but I ask that you not go wandering the grounds without an adult -- er, a teacher -- present. This means no Quidditch practice--" A chorus of groans erupted from the Hufflepuff table, who had signed up to have the field that day. "--for today only. I ask that you all keep an eye open for danger, and that you alert one of us should you see anything suspicious on campus. Be careful, and enjoy your day. You are all free to go."
The students exited the Great Hall, some looking sick with worry, others looking ecstatic at the prospect of a weekday without classes. Harry, Ron and Hermione were the last and most reluctant to stand.
"You two go ahead," Harry told them. "I want to talk to Sirius."
"Okay."
"We'll see you in the common room."
They left, and Harry approached the long table at the front of the room. Sirius leapt over it easily and landed with the sort of grace only the young possess in front of him. Harry noticed he was still shorter than his godfather by about three inches. "Is everything going to be okay?" he asked, and Sirius smiled warmly at him.
"Of course it is. Just because we're shorter doesn't mean we're any less powerful." He frowned. "I think."
"How do you feel?"
"Well, 'like a kid again' seems to be the obvious answer. It takes some getting used to, but I'm not complaining. I haven't felt this physically good in a long time, which makes me realise -- in actuality, I'm too old for this crap." He winked, and Harry chuckled.
"It's weird, seeing all the teachers like this..."
"Tell me about it. I never thought I'd see the day when the first thing that popped into my head at seeing McGonagall was 'ooh, foxy lady'."
Harry snorted, and Sirius grinned mischievously.
"But on the plus side -- old Severus doesn't seem to be enjoying himself. Not that he was much fun when he actually _was_ fifteen."
Harry nodded, casting a glance Snape's way. The Potions Master still looked furious, despite Sinistra's attempts to make him laugh. Eventually, she gave up and slouched down in her seat looking just as disgruntled.
"How long do you think this'll last?"
"Can't say. But I wouldn't worry about it if I were you. Hey, I'm going to Hogsmeade to get us all some robes that, y'know, fit - how's about I pick you up a few dungbombs at Zonko's? It's been ages since I've set off a dungbomb. We could do it together -- it'll be a bonding experience. Got a lot of time to make up for."
"Yeah, that'd be neat."
Vector sauntered over, grabbed Sirius by arm and started dragging him away impatiently. "Come on, let's hit the shops."
"See you later, Harry," Sirius called over his shoulder. "Keep your chin up, everything's gonna be fine."
~*~
Sinistra growled in frustration at the book she was thumbing through and slammed it shut. "This isn't working. We must have looked through a thousand books in the -- what time is it?"
Snape tore himself away from his own book to check his watch. "Quarter after two."
"It's been sixteen hours? _Sixteen bloody hours_?! This is completely hopeless!"
He glanced up at her, but said nothing. She sighed, exasperated with their fruitless search. They'd gone through the classrooms, their offices, the restricted section of the library, and were now working on Snape's private collection in his room, sitting on the uncomfortable stone floor in front of the massive bookcase with more than two dozen volumes of various Potions works scattered around them. Sinistra was sick of it. "I give up. My fingers are numb from page-turning, my eyes are numb from reading so damn much -- whatever we're looking for is not going to turn up here."
He still said nothing. With a small snarl, she rose and muttered something about stretching her legs.
Snape didn't seem to notice until he heard the distinct sound of bouncing bedsprings. Frowning, he looked up from what he was reading to find Sinistra jumping on his bed. "What are you doing?"
"What does it look like?" she bit back, turning away from him.
"Stop that at once."
"No."
Closing the book, Snape rose and walked over to the bed, putting on his most serious scowl. "I said, stop it."
"And I said no."
"Look," he said, "it's my bed, in my room, and I don't want you doing that on or in either."
At last, she stopped jumping and flopped down on her stomach, gazing up at him crossly. "Why not?"
"Because it's annoying. And immature."
"Both of which we are now, you know."
"In body alone," he snapped. She pulled herself up to sit on her knees so that she could look him directly in the eye.
"What's the matter? You're being uptight even for you."
He glared at her, and then turned and walked back toward the bookcase. She was on her feet immediately, chasing after him.
"Oh no -- you are _not_ going to storm off and brood." Her voice softened, "Come on, Severus. It's scary for all of us. Don't be like this now. Please."
He stopped, but refused to meet her eyes. "I'm not 'being like' anything. I just...I can't stand this. I hated being this age the first time around; I can't see how another go at it is going to make it any better. It's a useless age filled with useless people."
"Well..." she thought for a moment, seizing his hands in hers. "Maybe you just didn't have enough fun when you were fifteen. That doesn't mean you're not allowed to now." She gave him a tug and he reluctantly followed her back over to the bed. Letting go of one of his hands, she held up the bottom of her robes and climbed onto the springy mattress, and then pulled him up after her. "There. See? This isn't so bad, is it?"
"Don't talk to me like I'm a child."
"You are a child."
"Selene..."
"All right, all right." She smiled slyly at him and jumped a bit. "But do give it a try." He rolled his eyes, but she gave him her best pout and batted her lashes dramatically. "For me?"
Scowling, he relented a small bounce.
"Excellent. Now do that many times in succession."
"Don't push it, Sinistra."
She grinned, giving another little jump. "Wouldn't dream of it."
Draco Malfoy frowned as the stone dungeon wall that led into the Slytherin House common room slid open -- he knew he was the only one awake, and the light footfalls didn't sound like Snape, teenager or not. He turned away from the fire he was sitting in front of and found blonde girl it took him a few seconds to place slipping through the common room. "Madam Hooch?" he asked, and she turned startled, hawk-like eyes on him.
"Oh, Malfoy," she muttered, looking relieved. "What you still doing up?"
Draco shrugged, gesturing to the single-player chess game in front of him. "Couldn't sleep."
"Ah. I don't suppose you'd know where the History of Slytherin House book is hidden?"
The boy nodded and got up out of his seat to show her the secret place where the book was kept this year.
"Spectacular, thank you," she smiled, lifting the heavy, dusty volume in her arms with only some difficulty.
"Were you a Slytherin?" Malfoy asked, to which Hooch looked surprised.
"Oh, good gracious, no. Ravenclaw. But all the teachers have the passwords to get into the four common rooms -- safety reasons and whatnot."
The boy frowned, but shrugged indifferently. Hooch started back toward the trap door, then paused and turned to him again. "Malfoy, how awake would you say you are? D'you think you could run down to Professor Snape's room and tell him and Professor Sinistra to report to Professor Binns' room?"
"Sure, why not," he shrugged. Better to be bored and get credit for it than to just be bored.
"Thanks much."
With a low groan, the hidden door opened and Hooch disappeared, followed by Malfoy. They parted ways in the hall, and Draco padded toward Snape's room barefoot, pulling his green dressing gown tighter around him and wishing he'd brought his slippers. He was right outside the room when he heard a peculiar sound and stopped, pressed his ear to the door. The sound was unmistakable then, and he stepped back quite a few feet, his mouth hanging open in shock.
Bedsprings. Inside the room, bedsprings were being bounced up and down in a fashion he had no desire to imagine. "Ye gods, you have got to be kidding me," he muttered, his eyes riveted to the door, unsure of what to do. "Not even twenty-four hours of being hormonal teenagers and they're already..." He couldn't bring himself to say it out loud. "_I'm_ not even that bad. ...Wait a tic - _I'm_ not even that _good_. Oh, god! _Snape's_ getting more than I am!" A look of utter disgust, both toward himself and other people, came over his face at the revelation. "No! This can't be happening -- this isn't right! It's just...just...augh!"
He stopped talking to himself, and upon closer inspection, he could hear voices coming from the other side of the door.
"Come on, put some effort into it! There you go."
"Don't patronise me. This was your idea in the first place. My technique is fine."
"Yeah, for a beginner. But I've had lots more practice."
Draco's eyes nearly doubled in size, and a feeling of pure horror came over him. This was just too much -- his feet were cold, his ego bruised -- he had to put a stop to this. Raising a determined fist, he pounded on the door.
The bedsprings stopped immediately, and he heard two loud thumps, like two people hitting the floor one right after the other. The door opened slightly, and Professor Sinistra poked her head through. Her face was flushed, and her hair was unkempt.
"Malfoy, hello," she greeted him with a small smile, and Draco couldn't notice her slightly laboured breathing without making a face. "What's the matter?" she asked him, and he knew there was no way he could deny it. He threw her an accusing glare as Snape's head appeared above hers.
"I heard it all!" he nearly yelled. "God, how could you? You're only fifteen! And the fact that you're actually older just makes it creepier!"
Sinistra tilted her head, frowning. "What are you on about?" She opened the door the rest of the way, and Draco jumped back as if struck, covering his eyes with his hands.
"No! Are you people insane?! Shut the bloody door!"
He heard it click closed and slowly removed his hands from his eyes before jumping again, startled to find them on his side of it - and fully clothed.
"For goodness' sake, Malfoy, what is the matter with you?" Snape snapped, and Draco suddenly felt the kind of foolish that makes one blush crimson whether they want to or not.
"I hea--I mean, I came down here--" But suddenly he was at a loss for words. He remembered the words of his father -- state your business, and leave the rest of it up to them. Good, sound, sane advice. "Hoochwantstoseeyoushe'sinBinns'room," he muttered quickly, then turned and practically sprinted down the hall back toward the Slytherin dorms.
When he was out of sight, Sinistra looked questioningly at Snape. A tiny smirk played at his mouth, but he only shrugged.
When they got to the History of Magic room, they found Hooch, Delacour and Binns sitting on or hovering near random desks, each with books that could have felled a grown Hippogriff if thrown in front of them, and each -- save for the last -- with lavender half-circles beneath their eyes.
"Have you found anything?" Xiomara asked. Fleur looked up hopefully.
"No," said Snape tersely. "Where's the headmaster?"
"Up in his office, with Fudge. He's got the Ministry working on it, but gods know they couldn't find a lump in a sea of shit if you paid 'em to."
The Potions master scowled in annoyance. "Then why did you summon us, if you don't have anything helpful to contribute?"
"Well," the spectral history professor spoke up, "that's not entirely true. There's a very vague reference to something akin to this happening in the early seventh century, five hundred years before Hogwarts was constructed."
"I can do the math," Snape snapped, and Binns responded with a blustery cough of indignation.
"I wasn't implying that you couldn't, _Professor_."
"Don't tease the living, Binns," Hooch interrupted before Snape could retort, "or we'll exorcise your intangible old ass."
"Um, excuse me?" asked Sinistra. "If no one minds, could we please return to the _point_?"
Twin glares turned in her direction, and she met them with a vicious scowl of her own which she usually reserved for the Weasley twins.
"I think it would be best," Binns said slowly, "if we were to wait until Professor Dumbledore is present." He probably would have been argued with if Vector and Black hadn't chosen that moment to enter the classroom, bearing shopping bags full of robes in various colours and textures. They unloaded their burdens on a book-free desk and sighed, rubbing arms and shoulders wearily.
"Bugger all," Victoria grumbled to herself. "And to think I once _enjoyed_ shopping..."
"What took you so long?" Hooch asked, rummaging through the bags until Vector reached in and handed her two sets of robes, one in navy blue, one in tan, and a pair of brown suede boots.
"They didn't have all our measurements in stock; we had to wait for things to be altered. And we might've stopped for a bite to eat..."
Black snorted. "Or three."
"Bug off. I was hungry."
Black hurled two sets of black robes at Snape's head, and was met with a fierce glare.
"Pillock," Snape muttered.
"Wanker."
"Mongrel."
"Tight-ass."
"How kind of you to notice."
Sirius looked stricken. "Gross, Snape."
"Oh, _do_ fuck off, Black."
"After you. I insist."
They might have continued on until they reached the age of thirty-six the second time around had Vector not interrupted.
"We can't Apparate," she said suddenly. Three alarmed heads swivelled in her direction, six alarmed eyes widening. "Sirius and I tried when we were in Hogsmeade. No luck. We're not at full power."
Snape was the first to recover from the mild shock. "Oh, isn't this utterly _fabulous_. I can hardly wait to see what happens next. What do you think it will be, hm? McGonagall turning into a kitten? We're required to take the O.W.L.s again? Sprout and Longbottom will begin dating? At this point, nothing would surprise me."
"Severus..." Sinistra started. He turned to her, glowering.
"What? What do you want me to do, Selene? Put on a happy face and go jump on a bed until the situation's righted?"
Her hand met his face with a loud crack, sending him staggering -- apparently, there was _one_ thing that could still surprise him.
"Bastard," she spat, and stalked out of the room. Vector sighed irately at him and followed.
"Come on, 'Mara," she called over her shoulder. "Time for a ciggie break." Hooch needed no more encouragement.
"Smooth, Snape," Black sneered after the three girls had left. "Real smooth. What was that you were saying about _me_ being bitchslapped into next week on a regular basis?"
"Fuck. Off."
"Oi, Sulky," Vector shouted down the hallway. Sinistra paused in her dramatic exit and spun around to glare at the Arithmancy professor. "Don't gimme that look. I have...treasure." She waved a pack of Bubble & Squeak cigarettes, and had never seen her best friend run as fast as she did at that moment.
"Oh, Vic, I could kiss you," Sinistra sighed, cradling the pack as though it were a sacred object.
"Please don't."
"Hurry up and open 'em already," Hooch ordered. "Who cares if we're inside -- what's anyone gonna do, give us detention?"
"Good point."
The pack was quickly unwrapped and the cigarettes distributed. Vector lit all three with the tip of her wand and took a long drag -- then collapsed in a fit of choking, coughing and spluttering against the wall. Sinistra gasped, but managed not to fall into such a graceless heap as Victoria.
"Bloody--*cough*--hell," Vector hissed, getting her breath back. "That _hurt_."
"What's up with you, Xiomara? Why are you so damned unaffected?"
Hooch merely shrugged. "I started when I was thirteen. My lungs were already black by this age."
"Lucky bint."
"You know, this'd be a grand opportunity to quit..."
Hooch arched an eyebrow and took another drag, closed her eyes as if in bliss. Vector's resolve dissipated rapidly.
"Screw it. Got used to once, we'll get used to it again soon enough."
Future puffs were far less eventful, and they were nearly finished when McGonagall's voice, just as authoritative as it had always been, echoed from down the corridor a ways.
"You three had better not be doing what I _think_ you're doing!"
"Shit! It's the warden!" Vector whispered, resulting in fits of giggles from her cohorts. "Quick -- destroy the evidence!"
They blew whatever smoke was lingering in their lungs out behind each other's backs and tossed the remnants of the contraband on the floor to be stubbed out by boots and made to disappear with a wave of Sinistra's wand just as McGonagall, Dumbledore, and Cornelius Fudge approached, the first looking stern, the second tired, and the third about to wet himself from badly-concealed nervousness.
"Cornelius," Dumbledore addressed the Minister of Magic, "meet Victoria Vector, Selene Sinistra, and Xiomara Hooch, professors of Arithmancy, Astronomy, and Flying respectively," he introduced them. Fudge shook each girl's hand in turn.
"Binns reckons he's found something," Sinistra told the headmaster, whose tense expression didn't falter. Fudge, on the other hand, looked downright mitigated.
"Oh, isn't that a relief?" he sighed, taking off his bowler cap to run a hand through his sparse white hair.
"I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you, sir. From what he said, it's only a vague reference."
"Well, something is better than nothing," said Dumbledore, and motioned to the History of Magic classroom. "Shall we, then?"
He was met with nods, and the six filed through the door.
~*~
Well, that's chapter one. To our splendiferous reviewers, much thanks to Alchemine, uzun, lizza, Squiglet8, Mrs. Grim, Zoloft (nit-picking is all well and good -- the professors _were_ more immature than normal, but hey, they can't be professional twenty-four seven, especially on the holidays. And yeah, we've read Pratchett. We Enjoy Pratchett ;), Tess, Atheis, chibi neko, Nai and Elspeth (and yeah, no student/teacher relationship thingies here (for once from us ;), except for one future, very minor and never done before one strictly for a humourous scene we've got planned. Not a severely romancy fic).
Thanks again, you lot. Hope you enjoyed this part as much as the last.