Chapter Forty-Five: Dispellment
Julie didn't want to cry. She knew she didn't want to yell, either. There wasn't really very much one could do in an instance like this without alerting one's parents, and that was the last thing she would ever do.
So she figuratively took a leaf out of Mitchie's book and began to scribble in her journal. It was a Muggle notebook, of course, and she was getting close to the end of available pages. Flipping back through it, Julie recalled her last three months at the orphanage, her brief liason with the Chaser, and the first time Malfoy had kissed her. There were also less conflicted memories detailed, such as the first 'full marks' she got in her father's class and the time she did a certain potion wrong. Christmas holidays had not been easy, at least not after she read the Americans' report. In a way she had the after-Christmas depression double this year, as it was also coupled with a profound sense of doom to come. Julie honestly didn't see a single way of her surviving the mission abroad.
It didn't help, of course, that she now had a thirtysomething professor who thought he was in love with her. Why, she hadn't even chosen her future career yet, much less her mate, and here was he, old enough almost to be her father. Almost. And it wasn't that Malfoy wasn't completely nice, it was the idea of his bloody loving her that Julie found bothersome. What was the man thinking? Honestly!
The only bright spot in five pages of journal-writing was news of her sibling's impending birth. By now she was certain it would be a boy, despite her parents' if-this's and or-that's about Whoever's name. She had ventured a few suggestions, mostly boys' names, of course, but still the newcomer was still called 'whoever,' name completely undecided. Any kind of a junior had been ruled out, as both of her parents had very unusual ones in terms of spelling and origin, and for some bizarre reason Julie's father thought naming Whoever after her mother's mum was a splendid idea. Personally, both female Granger-Snapes thought anything with an 's' in it would be cruel, but then, they had had lisps until they were eight or so.
"Aw-awwwk!" an owl said, landing on Julie's shoulder as if she were a perch. "Caw-aw!"
"Alright, owl, let's have the letter." Julie opened the envelope with a sidelong glance at the plaid jesses the owl seemed to be wearing. The grin widened into laughter when she saw the note.
It had been established long ago in a contest (judged by Chloe,) that Mitchie could draw better of the two. What the Yank had confided a bit later, however, was that she would much rather draw than write any time. Julie had actually read a bit of Mitchie's handwriting, and secretly suspected her friend of having mild dyslexia. Whatever the cause, however, Mitchie's notes were more often pictures than anything, and today's was no exception to her witty type. It was, in fact, a series of small pictures, including a fairly brutal caricature of Professor Snape teaching class with a Muggle playpen in the corner. Another depicted a Scottish gentleman flawlessly standing next to Donaghan, and until Julie realized the joke, it seemed almost a normal sketch. Mitchie had drawn Donaghan giving his grandfather 'bunny ears' to demonstate the patriarch's translucency. The third picture was downright hilarious if possibly nasty, a splendid likeness of Julie and Malfoy arguing. Mitchie had neatly captured one of their best sidelong glances, but so subtly that only a person who suspected it anyway would know what the subjects were really thinking. The fourth sketch was positively unbearable.
"That damn yankee," Julie mumbled aloud, laughing.
It was a full-color drawing of what looked like a pair of ravens and a sparrow with an egg. The egg was cracking underneath the sparrow as both the large and small ravens observed it; clearly another of Mitchie's splendid allegorical cartoons. It was uncanny how the American manged to give a raven the exact look of Professor Snape.
"Miss me?" Mitchie asked, appearing at the door.
"I missed you, but evidently your pencils didn't."
"Poor things, they just cried out to be set free. What d'you think of the letter?"
"Well, you wanted to tell me Donaghan's granddad's a ghost, you think I look like a raven, you expect fun in my dad's class after Whoever's born, and you spend more time staring at me and Malfoy's fights than you do at your own boyfriend."
"Do not," the American argued.
"Then how come Donaghan's Bludger scar's on the left 'stead of the right?"
"Uh, you remember too much?"
"Er, no. Somebody's been drawing things backwards."
"It's not like I don't draw everything that way. Look at which hand your scar's on as well." Sure enough, Julie had what looked like her right hand aimed at Draco threateningly with part of the star visible. "Backwards. I've got a mirror-mind."
"Is that why your writng's so godawful?"
"Mos' likely. I hate writing, easier to draw."
"Are all of your owls written in pictures?"
"Nope. This one's called Angus," Mitchie explained, pointing to the large bird, which flew over and perched on her outstretched arm. Julie sighed, as Mitchie had missed the meaning entirely.
"Nice to meet you, Angus, let my pet mice alone. Is he what Donaghan got you?"
"Sort of. He and his granddad. Julie, you would not believe Grandfather Donalbein! Not only's he a ghost, but he plays bagpipes and reads Robert Burns aloud!"
"Was there any alive-people food?"
"Yep. I tried haggis. It sort of tasted like what happens when you've only got one slice left of each kind of deli meat and make it all one sandwich."
"How fascinating. I think I'll skip dinner now."
"Oh, don't. We're having kippers."
"I think I shall be sick."
"Hey, if it makes you fell any better, in two months or so we can get Cajun food."
"What?"
"Cajun food, y'know, New Orleans cooking?"
"Squid?"
Mitchie looked at her friend in surprise.
"Probably, I suppose we could find you some."
"Ecch."
"Well, aside from squid there's bourbon chicken and fried rice and this really lovely gold-colored sticky meat-"
"Sticky meat?" Julie asked, laughing.
"You know, kind of like General Tso's chicken? That's Chinese, though, maybe we should stop and find you poor Brits some of that."
"Is that all you think we're going to your damned country for?"
"Well, 'side from havin' t' off some de Dyablo guy, I suppose the trip's kind of open t'fun afterwards."
"Fun?" Julie asked rather bitterly. Mitchie smiled and tapped her on the head.
"Yes, Julie Snape, it's what you have when you put three witches in America with only y're Uncle Ron and Malfoy to chaperone. You remember fun, we had some over Christmas holidays, came in bottles."
"Did you even read the report, Mitchie?"
"What report? The one you had to write for Professor Binns?"
"No, Yank, the one that just arrived over break from America. Go see my dad, he's got our copy."
"Can I ask him to send it by owl? We'll be seeing him in class after lunch, won't we?"
"You know what, Mitchie? I dare you to ask my dad something by owl."
"Deal." The American pulled out a bit of parchment and three pencils and began to draw, using Julie's back as a desk of sorts. "What does the report look like?"
"Fat envelope stuffed with parchments and photographs."
"One of those long ones, like the Muggle manila ones with the staply bit up top?"
"Yeah."
"Okay." A few flourishes and a scribbled signature later, Mitchie held up the drawing for Julie to see.
"You really don't like to write at all, do you?"
"Nope."
The picture was rather like a Muggle comic strip; showing Professor Snape with Angus on his arm, handing the report to the bird, and giving Mitchie and Julie a poisonous look in Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Next to the last picture was drawn a watch showing the time when they had that on Mondays.
"Okay, so the translation of this is 'Dear Professor Snape, this is my owl, give him the report, see you later'?"
"Yep."
"I think that you may have spelled it wrong."
"It's perfectly understandable, though, isn't it?"
"If you think so, Mitch. Why don't you send the thing?"
"I will. Here y' go, Angus, take this to Professor Snape." The owl gave her a blank look and Mitchie pointed to Julie, then moved her friend's grown-out bangs so that cheek-length hair was indicated. "Him." The owl left.
"If that wasn't how I explained Dad to Anthony, I'd smack you one," Julie said, fixing her hair. "Why don't you draw something a little less offensive during study hall?"
"Like what? Tom and Tim draw those horrid stick figures detaching their heads to play Quidditch with, I would think that these were at least tolerable."
"Merciful peace, I had forgotten that! And you reminded me! I hope you eat the kippers."
"So do I. I think they're wonderful."
"Tell me they don't serve fish in America."
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"Dear?" Severus asked his wife at lunch. "What do you make of this?"
"I could make a hat, or a brooch, or a pterodactyl."
"What?"
Judy Parkington smiled.
"Sorry, Severus, Muggle reference. We had a film today and Hermione brought her class first period."
"Oh. I mean the pictures."
"Looks like someone illiterate wrote you a note."
"Definitely Mitchie," Hermione observed.
"I know it's Tyler, there's her signature. What's it mean?"
"Michelle draws, Severus. It means exactly what it shows."
"Good lord, not a repeat of her father, then. Am I to send my reply in pictures with the owl?" The professor gestured to the large bird hovering behind him expectantly.
"It looks rather like that envelope Ron got last week," Judy observed.
"Of course! She wants the report…why didn't she ask me normally?"
"And risk being yelled at or getting points taken off for being off-task in class?"
"She's got a point, darling. Clearly this is how she writes notes."
"Must be a Yankee thing," Severus sighed. He pulled the report from his bag and gave it to Angus, who flew it to the Gryffindor table immediately. "Her father liked to draw also, as I recall."
"Maybe you could tell her that after class."
"I don't want to make the Yank feel bad."
"Remember the time Minerva told Julie she flies like you? It won't make her feel bad."
"Alright, I'll do that, then. Will you be at the staff meeting after classes, then?"
"Of course, unless someone gets detention."
"You could always let Argus handle them."
"Dear, I respect Mr. Filch, I really do, but there's no force on earth that could make me consign students to his care."
"I was just going to ask you if you wanted to meet me in the library afterwards."
"If it's such a problem, Hermione, Ron could watch them," Judy supplied.
"A splendid idea! Weasley's practically got his degree in detentions from me!"
"I'll just make sure noone gets detention, dear."
"Will it be Sedating Potions today, then?" Severus inquired wryly.
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Not two hours later, Professor Snape had decided that maybe sedating the students might not be such a bad idea. The fifth-year Slytherins and Gryffindors (why Minerva scheduled those two Houses together he had no idea besides her resenting him,) were learning the Expelliarmus spell. As a precaution against after-class scuffles, he assumed that splitting up the perennial pairs might be a good idea, as the Slytherins generally had to run so as not to be late for Professor Longbottom's Herbology, and most Gryffindors were going the other way for Muggle Studies or Arithmancy. It tended to reflect badly on him if half the Griffies wound up in the Infirmary from Slytherins cursing them.
"I don't think so, Mr. Weasleys," he said, splitting Tom and Tim and pairing each with a Slytherin. "I said each of you must pair with a different House." Jem and Jen Blodgett hurriedly looked for two remaining Gryffindors. "Don't even try it," Snape told his real and foster daughters, who seemed as profoundly joined at the hip as the Weasleys sometimes. "You go with Jen, Tyler, and you with her brother, Starcatcher. I don't want any of you students trying to fake the spell."
That made all the Gryffindors suitably ticked.
"Alright, on the count of three each of you will attempt to disarm your opponent with the Expelliarmus spell. Make certain you say it clearly, Tyler, or we'll be wringing Mr. Filch's mop to find Blodgett."
Actually, Professor Snape was a little proud of that insult. It was really damnable that Yanks always found things like that funny, though. His own daughter looked fairly ready for justifiable parricide, but darned if Tyler wasn't struggling not to laugh. "On my count; one, two, three!"
"Expelliarmus!" most of the class said. Wands flew in the air like peculiar missiles, being on occasion caught and on occasion impaled in the corkboard. The American, however, had mispronounced it direly, and Jen Blodgett had fled to a corner.
"Finite incantatem! What's happened here?" Professor Snape rushed over to Mitchie and Jen.
"I think I might have said the spell wrong, per'fessor," Mitchie confessed. Jen had he face hidden and her wand was nowhere to be seen.
"And just how did you pronounce it?"
"Uh…'es'pelliairmus,' per'fessor, said the 'x' wrong, I guess."
"You've also incorrectly used the vowel, creating a dispellment charm. Let this be a lesson to you all to speak clearly if you have a thick accent!" Mitchie's cheeks burned, but Jen still wasn't showing hers. Professor Snape lowered his voice to a near-whisper. "Miss Blodgett, I assure you, you won't die if someone sees you without your makeup."
"But, professor-"
"Tell me that Yank didn't dispell your nose?" Snape asked, looking about the stone floor as if one might be underfoot somewhere. Jen reluctantly dropped her hands to her sides. "Merlin's nails! All four of you in my office NOW!"
"Which four do you mean, sir?" Tom Weasley asked.
"Starcatcher, Tyler and both Blodgetts, obviously. The rest of you, find your wands and begin reading pages 143 to 156. What you don't finish is homework."
The four he had requested obediently scurried into his office, at which point Jem, Julie, and Mitchie saw Jen Blodgett's face. As bad as Julie had looked after Matt Flint beat her up, this was very close, if not just as awful.
"Damn, Jen, I'm sorry," Mitchie said, thinking she had caused the bruises with her spell.
"You haven't done anything, Tyler. Miss Blodgett, do you care to explain how you got these bruises?"
Jen set her jaw and would say nothing. "Are you certain? Perhaps your brother has some idea." Jem, while clearly horrified by the extent of his sister's wounds, looked none too surprised and said nothing either. "Fine, then!" Professor Snape positively roared. "Julia! What's been going on between Gryffindor and Slytherin?"
"Dad, I swear, no Gryffindor guy would hit a girl like that. And if a girl did, I would know about it."
Julie's form of address convinced him she was being absolutely honest.
"You know of nobody?"
"Not in Gryffindor," Julie answered in a leaden voice.
"Ah," Snape said, a short staccato phrase that spoke volumes. "I see. Mr. Blodgett, thank you for your –gifted testimony. I suggest you go rejoin your classmates and speak not of this incident. Now."
The instant Jem was gone, Snape appeared to relax, albeit looking more concerned. "Jennifer, I'm sure you understand my position here. What happened?"
"I've just been having a few accidents lately," the Slytherin lied.
"Er, Jen?" Julie asked a bit sarcastically before her father could. "Accidents don't tend to leave knuckle marks."
"So?" Jen inquired just as acidly.
"As I recall it, you yourself said 'Slytherins tend to leave marks, -y'know'?"
"Jennifer," Professor Snape asked in a weary voice, "did someone in your House do this?"
"I'm not saying anything," Jen replied icily.
"Fine. Tyler, I suggest you do that Yankee spell."
"Which spell is-?" both Jen and Mitchie asked. Professor Snape answered them in a voice like satin.
"Oh, I'm sure you know which one I mean, Michelle. Jennifer, I'm assuming you've learned about the Cold War in History of Magic. The Americans perfected a spell form of truth enhancement similar in effect to Veritaserum, I'm certain you've heard of it-"
"Alright! Lyff!"
"What was that, Jennifer?"
"My boyfr- cous- Lyff did it."
"Lyfften Grudgett? Alright, I understand. Julia, please escort Jennifer to Madame Pomfrey's care. Tyler, if you could tell my class they are dismissed-?"
"Of course, per'fessor," Mitchie said, hurriedly stepping out to ensure everyone would be gone when Jen and Julie left.
"Professor Snape, please, I didn't mean to-" Jen started.
"I understand completely, Miss Blodgett. This is, actually, a fairly common occurrence among Slytherins. I can assure you it will not happen again, as I will deal with your adopted cousin as only I can. In the meantime, I would appreciate it if you stayed with the Gryffindors. Their Head of House will take care of you. Now, please, go get those marks looked after."
Julie squeezed her dad's hand as she left with the Slytherin. Just as the darkhaired girls were leaving, the redheaded Yank returned.
"Yes, Tyler?" Professor Snape inquired.
"Uh, per'fessor, I just thought I should warn you, I haven't the faintest clue how to do the Factus Facilitatus curse. It's something on the level of your Unforgiveables."
"I know that, Michelle," Professor Snape said, with the ghost of a smile using her name for the first time.
"But then why did you ask me to-"
"Jen Blodgett doesn't."
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A/N: It is my earnest hope that I can make up for the
server's being down by uploading three chapters at once. Please, do review and
let me know what I've done wrong or right.
-J.McN.