Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, do you think I would be writing
fanfiction?
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
1 Chapter 1: Bizarre Cake Recipes and Yaks In Distress
1.1 The early morning peace and quiet of Malfoy Manor was blown apart by the sound of Lucius Malfoy bellowing, "Severus! I need you!" via the magical intercom system that he had set up a few years ago. Lucius, Severus had noticed from long experience, had two different voices. His normal voice was smoothly supercilious; the other, which was only used in times of great agitation, bore an uncanny resemblance to that of a yak in distress. Severus shook his head in disgust, recognizing the latter voice. Lucius had never responded well to surprises.
"Severus!"
He tapped the speaker with his wand and said, "Coming, Lucius." Swinging his legs out of bed, he yawned his way over to the wardrobe and put on a fresh robe. A shower could wait; all manner of things could happen when Lucius was in the midst of one of his temper tantrums. He recalled with a shudder the time Henry Lestrange had accidentally knocked over Lucius' pumpkin juice.
Upon reaching Lucius' study, he knocked on the door and waited. "Come in," Lucius' voice called. It was now wavering between smoothness and yak-in-distress mode, making him sound like an adolescent boy.
"What is it, Lucius?" he asked with a bite of impatience in his voice. "It must be quite important to make you get up at this ungodly hour."
Lucius waved off the sarcasm. "Yes, Severus, it is." He picked up a piece of parchment. "This arrived last night."
Severus glanced at the parchment, doing a double take when he saw the name at the top. "Ah." He slanted a glance at Lucius. Was it only his imagination, or had the man's face become even paler than it usually was? "I fail, however, to see why this is the cause of such agitation."
Lucius sighed with – was it resignation? "Look at Step Three."
Severus looked at him with narrowed eyes, then shrugged and looked down at the parchment. It appeared to be a fairly normal cake recipe, given the somewhat… eclectic ingredients. Stir in the Basilisk eyes with the hen's blood… add the powdered dragon tongue… add the Acromantula eggs, lightly beaten… what on earth?
He blinked, and then shook his head, sure that he hadn't seen it right, but when he looked down at the parchment again, it was the same as he had seen before. "Step Three," it read. "Get in touch with your inner child."
Severus looked at Lucius, completely deadpan. "I believe that the Dark Lord specifically said that these directions must be followed literally?"
Forget about being in distress; the yak was now in its death throes. "Yes. He did."
Severus didn't say anything pointed about ambitious Death Eaters who wheedled their way into coveted positions before finding out what the position was. He didn't have to. He simply looked at Lucius Malfoy, the well-bred scion of one of the world's richest wizarding families, looked back down at the cake recipe, and collapsed on the study floor, howling with laughter.
His last coherent thought was that they would have to give the yak a nice funeral.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
1 Chapter 1: Bizarre Cake Recipes and Yaks In Distress
1.1 The early morning peace and quiet of Malfoy Manor was blown apart by the sound of Lucius Malfoy bellowing, "Severus! I need you!" via the magical intercom system that he had set up a few years ago. Lucius, Severus had noticed from long experience, had two different voices. His normal voice was smoothly supercilious; the other, which was only used in times of great agitation, bore an uncanny resemblance to that of a yak in distress. Severus shook his head in disgust, recognizing the latter voice. Lucius had never responded well to surprises.
"Severus!"
He tapped the speaker with his wand and said, "Coming, Lucius." Swinging his legs out of bed, he yawned his way over to the wardrobe and put on a fresh robe. A shower could wait; all manner of things could happen when Lucius was in the midst of one of his temper tantrums. He recalled with a shudder the time Henry Lestrange had accidentally knocked over Lucius' pumpkin juice.
Upon reaching Lucius' study, he knocked on the door and waited. "Come in," Lucius' voice called. It was now wavering between smoothness and yak-in-distress mode, making him sound like an adolescent boy.
"What is it, Lucius?" he asked with a bite of impatience in his voice. "It must be quite important to make you get up at this ungodly hour."
Lucius waved off the sarcasm. "Yes, Severus, it is." He picked up a piece of parchment. "This arrived last night."
Severus glanced at the parchment, doing a double take when he saw the name at the top. "Ah." He slanted a glance at Lucius. Was it only his imagination, or had the man's face become even paler than it usually was? "I fail, however, to see why this is the cause of such agitation."
Lucius sighed with – was it resignation? "Look at Step Three."
Severus looked at him with narrowed eyes, then shrugged and looked down at the parchment. It appeared to be a fairly normal cake recipe, given the somewhat… eclectic ingredients. Stir in the Basilisk eyes with the hen's blood… add the powdered dragon tongue… add the Acromantula eggs, lightly beaten… what on earth?
He blinked, and then shook his head, sure that he hadn't seen it right, but when he looked down at the parchment again, it was the same as he had seen before. "Step Three," it read. "Get in touch with your inner child."
Severus looked at Lucius, completely deadpan. "I believe that the Dark Lord specifically said that these directions must be followed literally?"
Forget about being in distress; the yak was now in its death throes. "Yes. He did."
Severus didn't say anything pointed about ambitious Death Eaters who wheedled their way into coveted positions before finding out what the position was. He didn't have to. He simply looked at Lucius Malfoy, the well-bred scion of one of the world's richest wizarding families, looked back down at the cake recipe, and collapsed on the study floor, howling with laughter.
His last coherent thought was that they would have to give the yak a nice funeral.