Hello, readers! Thanks for the reviews. :)
The next bit, as promised.
Work is going to be nuts, so I'll have more later this week, but can't say just when exactly.
Please tell me what you think!
~
In the last bit – Reload.
In this bit – Innocent bystander too near the fan.
~
Like Cats and Dogs
Chapter seven
~
Oh, it was a bad business.
Young Severus had always been able to find more trouble than his weight in kittens and it certainly looked as if he'd hit the jackpot this time. Argus Filch had a soft spot for the boy, who had been an oddling even for a Slytherin – and that lot could be very odd indeed.
The thought of starting the term without Severus Snape to quell the students filled Filch with dread. The professor did not put the fear of God into his students; he instilled fear of Snape and made sure that they thought Divine Wrath would be easier to survive than Snape's Displeasure.
You had to admire that in a man.
"Hello? Is anybody here?" A soft voice floated up from the Reception Hall. "Master Filch? Hagrid? Hello?"
"Just a minute, just a minute, I'm coming!" Who the hell could this be? She didn't sound like any of the teachers he knew.
As he came into the Hall, Filch actually stared. It was the first time he had seen one up close.
A long, graphorn hide coat, hat and boots meant only one thing – an Acquisitor. Generally considered trouble by the rest of the wizarding world – when the rest of the wizarding world did not need their services, that is – the Acquisitors of Gadget, Widget and MacGuffin were a batch of black sheep, eccentrics, freebooters and dilettantes.
They also made boatloads of Galleons, and did incredibly dangerous things whilst seeking out the items and materials that high-ranked wizards just had to have – but, in Filch's opinion, were too busy, lazy or cowardly to go get for themselves. Anyone who could back up a team of Gringotts curse-breakers had to be a bunch of tough bastards.
Even if this one didn't look it.
Oh, he recognized her – Emily Mayborne had turned up on his detention list often enough to make sure of that. She hadn't aged so much as matured - a little harder around the eyes, a touch of the budding cynic in the face. He could see her wand in a long pocket on her cargo trousers, the handle smooth from use – and knapsack, also of graphorn hide, swung from one shoulder. A sealed coffer was tucked under one arm along with her broom.
The disordered brown curls and glasses still made her look the Ravenclaw, but the way she carried herself proclaimed her to be A Woman Not To Be Trifled With.
He wondered if she'd been to Egypt lately – he'd always fancied a small icon of Bast for his office.
"Miss Mayborne." It was always interesting to see if he could unnerve former students. So many of them had guilty consciences that they were as jumpy as first years.
"Mater Filch. Mrs. Norris." Each of them was accorded a polite nod. No, he wouldn't be able to unnerve this one; even Snape had a hard go of it with her. "I've come on an errand for Master MacGuffin to Professor Dumbledore, and to deliver some materials for Professor Snape. Are they available?"
Oh… shite.
~
Filch looked much the same, as dour and grizzled as he had been since she first saw him at the Sorting Feast. Mrs. Norris was still at his feet, her dust-colored coat and copper eyes healthy as ever.
"The Headmaster and Professor Snape are… otherwise occupied, Miss. I'll take charge of the parcels."
Filch was nervous, she'd bet her new Firebolt on it. The way his eyes jerked away from hers told her that something was badly amiss. The Ministry – an institution for which had Emily little liking or use – had been rumbling with more than the usual political potboiling of late. Perhaps the fat-arsed fools were meddling in with education now?
"Sorry, Master Filch. The materials for Professor Snape are unstable and require special handling, and the coffer for the headmaster is under personal seal." Emily literally could not hand the coffer to anyone other than Dumbledore – could not get more than five away from it, actually. "If I could put the materials in one of the safe rooms, might he be available after I'm done? The erumpent is unrefined and unless I get it somewhere cold and quiet there's going to be a hell of a bang."
Filch's eyebrows went up and he waved her toward the dungeons. "I thought that handlers had to be certified to even look in the general direction of that stuff."
"I am certified, up to Class A Materials, for handling, transport, and disposal." Certain substances and items were disposed of as a matter of course as being too dangerous – either in situ or in potential – to meddle with. Most Acquisitors were certified up to Class B, but after a particularly bloody run in with some dark wizards in Columbia, Emily and Artemisia had decided to take the extra step.
Filch gave her a very appraising look, measuring her against something in his mind. "I've the keys. Come along."
The safe rooms were nearly five stories down in solid rock. Meant for the storage of hazardous items, some had – according to castle legend – been locked since the Founding. It was cold enough below to see one's breath. Filch took a cloak from a peg and Mrs. Norris settled herself by a brazier to await their return.
The Diricawl feathers went into a room shielded against Apparition. Fat lot of good it would do to get the feathers only to have them find their way back to the bird they came from!
Or, alternatively, have the bird find its way to its feathers. Diricawls weighed about fifty pounds and though good-natured and slightly stupid, they were vain of their tails and became ill tempered if the plumes were disturbed.
The erumpent required more specialized handling. Filch helped Emily don a heavy lead poncho and helm, a full-face visor cut from solid diamond, leg guards, and a pair of quadruple-layer dragon hide gloves. The box of erumpent horn was warm to the touch and Emily carried it carefully into a room, making sure to set a containment spell on it before she immersed it in liquid nitrogen. The erumpent fluids were removed from their container phial by phial and transferred into smaller, strongly warded boxes. Those boxes in turn were then placed in another box, and the whole lot set in a room so strongly shielded it could contain an explosion from Muggle atomic bomb.
By the end of the whole thing, Emily was sweating as if she were in the heart of the Amazon at the height of summer. Filch helped her out of the gear, and Emily luxuriated in the cold, rolling up her hair to let the sweat on the back of her neck cool.
"So, you've kept up your education, then." Filch lifted the poncho from her shoulders. "Potions, specifically?"
Emily blinked. He'd said more to her in one day than he had in an entire year when she was a student. "Yes. Mostly the practical applications, though I enjoy archeological and historical research as well."
"Hmm." Once again, the shrewd look, this time with something that might have been a smile. This made Emily deeply uneasy. "Come along then. I'll take you to the headmaster."
~
Bloodied, but unbowed accurately described Severus' demeanor.
Sitting squarely in the middle of Minerva McGonagall's desk, he mimicked the posture of a statue of Bast he had admired on a visit to the Louvre.
And pretended he was just as stone deaf as that statue, too.
Albus sighed, turning to Lupin and The Dog. "This may go more easily if you and Sirius were to absent yourselves."
Yes, do absent yourselves. I have a destination in mind, but I regret more than I can express that I can't tell you how to get there.
Remus ran his hand through his already rumpled hair, looking about to pull it out in clumps. "Yes, headmaster."
"However," Albus gave Severus a very long look, "since we have no idea how long this is likely to take, it may be prudent to disguise you further, Sirius. Harry and his friends might well take exception to this… ah… this. While the parameters of the spell dictate that you must remain in dog form, I suggest that we give you a more… amiable aspect."
Sirius cocked his shaggy head and stared at the white-bearded wizard. As of now, Sirius in dog aspect most resembled an exceptionally large, black Newfoundland. To the exceptionally superstitious of the wizarding world, he looked like a Grim. That twit Trelawny had driven everyone bonkers over Potter being stalked by one such – but it had only been Black skulking about.
"I suggest something less imposing, more likely to pass without comment. A family dog type of dog."
Severus felt his ears perk even as Sirius whined in apprehension.
Cocker spaniel! Albus! Turn him into a Cocker spaniel!
"Oh, don't worry, my lad. Minerva will handle this one, she's had lots of practice."
Pomeranian! Bichon Frise! No… a Maltese or.. or what is that other one… a Shit Stew?
Minerva tilted her head to one side, tapping her lower lip with her wand as she considered the now cowering dog at her feet. "Something comforting, unthreatening, good-natured…"
Severus shut his eyes, concentrating with his whole being on one word, one mental image.
Pekingese... Pekingese… Pekingese…
There was a loud bang that made him nearly leap from the desk and he opened his eyes, eager to see what Minerva had made of Sirius. In his place sat a Border Collie of brown-and-white coloration.
Severus was disappointed. He'd had a jolly time picturing the sod as something little and yappy.
"We can't call you Sirius and we'll have to call you something other than Snuffles…" Minerva pocketed her wand.
Snuffles? I mean… Snuffles?! Severus choked, trying to resist the need to race about like a mad thing – something he supposed was the feline equivalent of laughter.
Remus chimed in mock-thoughtfully, "How about Arris? Or Bampot? Stroppy? Stroppy the Dog - nice ring to it. No? How about Bellend?"
Black the Border Collie glared.
Severus had no idea that Remus had such a scandalous vocabulary. Careful, Lupin. Be nice or he'll piss on your leg. I favor 'Bellend' as he's such a prick.
"Remus John Lupin! Mind your tongue!" Minerva's whipcrack voice made Lupin blush.
Albus pursed his lips and then smiled, "I had a collie named Toffee when I was a lad, will that do?"
The Dog howled.
This time the impulse was overwhelming and Severus fell over on his side, wriggling and rolling his way across the desktop. If he'd been human, he would have been on his knees with laughter.
"You own fault, Toffee," Remus chuckled. "Unless you want to undo what you've done?"
The Dog sulked, turning his back on the assemblage.
"And Severus, there's no doubt that you're very much a tom." Remus continued, a spark in his eye, "Good lord, man! What a pair you've got! It looks like you're carrying a hassock right below your tail! I think we can just call you Balls."
Severus hissed and slapped at the hand that had Lupin tried to pet him with. Keep your comments and your hands to yourself!
"Remus." Minerva's voice could have frosted the Sahara.
The werewolf took possession of himself – failing miserably at looking chastened – and turned to go. "Come, Toffee."
Severus licked a paw and glared at their retreating backs – his claws ached at the base and the urge to sink them into something was very strong. If that something yelled, then it was all to the better.
Minerva took her own chair so that she and Albus had Severus bracketed. Severus steeled himself for an all-out, round-the-world guilt trip.
~
Albus Dumbledore had seen and done a great deal in his century-and-a-half of life. He had found trust where trust was not, taken a glimmer of light and fed the flames high to drive back the deepest of darkness. In his lifetime, according to his peers, he had managed to achieve the impossible with astonishing regularity.
Albus thought that he might truly be stumped this time.
Severus, the most stubborn of humans, was now evidently the most stubborn of cats – and that was really saying something. Unfortunately, it had to be Severus who would have to give over first – dog's paws were not as agile as those of a cat. Sirius could no more undo Severus' collar than he could flap his ears and fly to Hogsmeade.
"I know, Severus, that I have asked much of you. You have given more than I or the Order had any right to expect." That the headmaster knew the probable reason for Severus' obstinacy helped not a bit. "I must ask once more; please, my son, do not cut off your nose to spite your face. Please, relent just once more. If you will release Sirius from your enchantment, I have no doubt that he will release you from his."
Well, actually he did, but Albus was not above lowering the boom on Sirius if he tried to wiggle out of it.
He could see the fight going on behind the inscrutable feline façade. Albus had granted Severus forgiveness long, long ago – but Severus was still trying to earn it, deserve it, never understanding that he already had it. In everything Albus had done or decreed Severus had backed him with all the considerable will at his disposal – even when he disagreed vehemently with the decision. However it appeared that asking him to give way before his enemy was simply Too Much.
Albus watched the resolve waver, then firm to adamantine.
No.
"If this isn't settled soon, we're not going to have anyone to teach Potions! We'll never find someone on such short notice – at least not with any level of competency! In less than six days, those halls are going to be full of students! What are we going to tell them?" Minerva looked at Severus and pointed to the door.
Severus looked at her finger.
Minerva swore. Albus blushed.
A diffident knock sounded at the door and Filch's voice called, "Professors? Headmaster?"
Filch would not be interrupting unless it was important. "Yes, Filch?" Albus called. "Come in."
The caretaker came into the room, followed by a young woman in the distinctive field garb of one of Reginald MacGuffin's Acquisitors.
"Headmaster, sir, Miss Mayborne has a package for you, under personal seal or I'd not have interrupted your… meeting."
"Ah! Yes! Reginald is prompt as always. Do come in, Emily!" Albus rose with a smile. It was so good to see one of his children all grown and about in the world. "How is Artemisia? I hear that you both attained Investure this year. My congratulations, my dear!" Taking the coffer from her, Albus set it carefully beside the desk. "Do let me draw you a chair, you'll stay for tea?"
Miss Mayborne replied that Artemisia was well, and thanked him for his good wishes. "But Missy was muttering something about cooking a goose when I left, so I should probably be brooming it back."
"Oh, I can do better than that. I'll activate a portkey for you. There was a lovely lemon tart cooling this morning," he eyed her shrewdly. "I do seem to remember that was your favorite?"
"Yes, sir, it was, but…"
Severus made a leap from the desk to the top of the bookcase again and hid behind a bust of Hypatia of Alexandria. Albus smiled – oh, yes. That. Poor Severus!
"Miss Mayborne has kept up her education since leaving, Professors." Filch looked right at Minerva. "Quite a range of talents she's developed – handling erumpent and all."
Albus drew a chair with his wand and out of politeness Emily was forced to sit.
"What have you been studying, Miss Mayborne? I was under the impression that an Acquisitor's traveling left little time for academic pursuit." Minerva peered at the young woman over the tops of her glasses.
Filch answered right over the top of Emily's reply. "Miss Mayborne has been studying Potions, Professors."
With a smile and a swish of her wand, Minerva's desktop was set with a full cream tea. "Do you take milk, Miss Mayborne, or lemon?"
Albus settled back, taking a Napoleon, and prepared to watch a battle of wills.
~
Oh, bad. Oh, bad. Bad. Bad. Very, very bad.
Severus closed his eyes and hoped it would all just go away.
Emily Mayborne stood as much chance of getting out of this as a paper dog chasing an asbestos cat though hell. Minerva's green eyes glittered at him over the rim of her teacup and Severus hissed in anger and frustration.
He could go to Black, end it now and take the loss of face. When all you have is shit on toast, you pour on the catsup and eat fast. What made Minerva think of having this girl, this barely post-pubescent child teaching Potions? Teaching his class?
Despite a valiant defense, Miss Mayborne's objections were falling like heads under the executioner's axe.
Her claim not to know the material was one he took as a personal insult – his worst students left Hogwarts knowing more than most senior apprentices! Minerva dispatched that objection by producing Severus' lesson plans – required ever since he had proposed poisoning his fourth years in order to see if they had been studying their antidotes.
Emily looked up from the notes and charts, her face solemn. "I know all of this."
Swish. Thud.
The next barricade was thrown up in haste. "Just because I know it doesn't mean I'm capable of teaching, nor am I qualified to teach."
Minerva raised the axe. Swung.
"Frankly, Miss Mayborne, your reasons are spurious. Ministry standards state that the teacher of a given specialty must be least a qualified professional in that field of senior journeyman status. Minerva nailed Emily in place with another slice of lemon tart. "All your credentials indicate that you lack only the time to sit for your Masters. Have you chosen the subject for your thesis yet?"
Swish. Thud.
"No, Professor McGonagall, I haven't. I prefer to spend time in the field." A light dawned on the young woman's face. "As a matter of fact, I cannot accept the position as I have a prior obligation Artemisia and I are going to Honduras to cover a new site."
The axe rose again, blade gleaming.
"Leaving when, Emily?"
"March," whispered into her tea.
Swish. Thud.
"I'm under contractual obligation to Gadget, Widget and MacGuffin. I can't take any other employment."
A quick conference by Floo with Reginald MacGuffin resulted in Albus negotiating for a consultancy rate and retainer that was - in Severus' opinion – something akin to daylight robbery with violence. The only contingency in the contract was that Emily Mayborne must return to London no later than 15 February. Surely Professor Snape would return by then?
"Quite so. I'm sure that the… matter… will be settled long before then, Reginald." Albus assured him, directing a significant look at Severus, who scowled at the old man from over Hypatia's shoulder.
Emily made one more try. "Artemisia."
Oh. Artemisia was not going to take this well. Malfoys were ever possessive and Emily's beloved Missy was no exception. Against every expectation, the two had become a long-term pair.
"Ah. Yes." Master MacGuffin colored. "Let me just get her on the other Floo and inform her. A moment…"
The portly man's head vanished, replaced by – gods above and devils below – advertising! What was the world coming to?
After some few minutes of adverts for Fizzing Whizbees, Witch Weekly, and Kwikspell, Master MacGuffin appeared again – singed, smoking and out of breath.
"Ah. I'll have Matilda Hurtleby pay a call on Miss Malfoy and reassure her of Miss Mayborne's safety. She got a bit… stroppy with me. I assured her that she could visit whenever the whim took her, but she was rather in a taking…" Mopping his broad face with a large handkerchief, the man made his courtesy hastily and closed the Floo.
Poor bastard. A stroppy Malfoy was no picnic.
Minerva poured a dejected-looking Emily some more tea.
"I do need to know one thing, please, before I formally accept this assignment," Emily said quietly. "I need to know what has happened to Professor Snape."
There was a long pause.
"You should also know that there is a truth clause in my contract. I do not work with people who lie to me, either by commission or omission. If you lie to me, now or ever, I can walk out of here and you can settle the breach of contract with my solicitor."
Severus wanted to cheer or find a hole to crawl into and pull in after him. It was not often that Minerva, Albus or Filch were taken aback, but the steely tones brooked no prevarication. Emily would have the truth, whole and steaming, and she would have it now.
"I'm sure you know, Miss Mayborne, of Severus Snape's temperament?" Albus asked, continuing at her nod. "Well, he and another wizard with whom he has a longstanding feud contrived an utter debacle, and are now stuck in forms that prohibit their taking up of their normal activities."
Emily blinked. "I see. And there is nothing that can be done by a third party to alleviate their conditions?"
Minerva shook her head, "The nature of the spells which they used have made that impossible. Only they can restore themselves to normal form, but due to the fact that both are utterly pigheaded…"
"I see. And where are they now?" Emily took another sip of tea.
No. Oh, no. Minerva…
The witch smiled and called sweetly, "Oh, Severus?"
Severus huddled behind the bust, wondering if it was possible to actually die of embarrassment.
"Severus. Don't make me come and get you."
He hissed. Minerva sounded far too amused.
The scrape of chair on floor decided him - he'd not be hauled about by the scruff of his neck as if he were some naughty kitten. Leaping from the bookcase, he landed on the edge of the desk and gracefully picked his way through the dishes to take a seat directly in front of Miss Mayborne.
"Yow."
Emily Mayborne's eyes nearly came out of her head. "Oh, bugger me blue!"
~
TBC
