Title: Looking for Magic in All the Right Places
Chapter Two: Stop Gaps and Staircases
Genres: Humour, Romance, and my response to 'Lama's' WIKTT Summer School Challenge. For more details, see Chapter One.
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Occasional poetry!
Disclaimer: Please see Chapter One. Some chapters have Author's Notes for acknowledgements when needed.
Chapter Two: Stop-Gaps and Staircases
Summer school for would-be Muggles had been underway for about a week when it became apparent that Hogwarts was falling apart more rapidly than anyone had imagined. The moving stairs were slowing down to a crawl, and some--already frozen in place like the parts of a rusty old machine--extended forever over empty space. Several unfortunate students had had to be rescued from those stairs with ropes and ladders. Many of the portraits--including the Gryffindor Fat Lady--were empty of human subjects, the frames abandoned by their tenants. Ghosts like Nearly Headless Nick continued to haunt the halls but were becoming more transparent as students gradually lost their abilities to see beyond physical reality. Unfortunately, Peeves was quite comfortable operating in any environment, whether magical or Muggle, so the beleaguered inhabitants of Hogwarts were still pelted with objects at every opportunity.
Severus Snape, former Potions Master and now professor of Chemistry, was one of the few senior faculty members who managed to maintain a semblance of calm, cool collectedness. Unlike some of his colleagues, he hadn't had a great deal of difficulty with the transition between his former magical calling and his new teaching duties. Chemistry, after all, had deep roots in magical practice and could trace its lineage to the great, ancient civilizations of Egypt. The Alchemical truth that all substances are composed of Earth, Air, Fire, and Water harmonised with the charming Muggle concept that four elements--hydrogen (H), oxygen (O), nitrogen (N), and carbon (C)--make up ninety-nine percent of all living organisms. From there, it hadn't been too great a leap for Snape to master a relatively simple framework like the periodic table of elements, and then to understand how ingredients interacted on the molecular, rather than the magical, level.
In fact, having to learn a new skill was all rather new and interesting. Snape had been getting a little bored with teaching potions year after year. That was one reason he'd been lusting for so long after the DADA job, which Lupin had snatched out from under him. The novelty of learning chemistry almost made up for his first disastrous Monday class with the blank-eyed, sullen crowd of Harry Potter syncophants and the slightly more sympathetic but even denser Draco Malfoy group.
The bright-eyed Hermione Granger had partially rescued the day. While still, in his opinion, the most insufferable Know-It-All on the planet, she at least wanted to learn the material. It looked as though she might--gods help him--be the only other person at Hogwarts who shared his interest in understanding the chemical properties of formerly magical potions.
An understanding that might, possibly, provide insights into reconstructing their power.
If that enterprise failed, he could always move to Hogsmeade and open his own apothecary.
But Lupin. What would Lupin do once all the magic drained away from the world? Lupin would soon be out of a job. Poor old Lupin.
'Milk chocolate Easter bunny,' Snape said smugly to the gargoyle guarding the secret door to Dumbledore's tower. The door opened, but no wooden spiral staircase descended. Snape poked his head through the door and looked up. The bottom step of the staircase was about level with his head. It showed no signs of moving.
'Milk chocolate Easter bunny!' Snape said loudly, feeling a bit idiotic. Nothing.
'Dear boy,' came Dumbledore's voice very faintly from above. 'The staircase is no longer reliable. If you can reach the bottom step, then just pull yourself up and climb.'
'Just--pull myself. . .! Bugger me,' Snape muttered, all smugness gone. With an effort, he chinned himself up, feet swinging, and managed to scramble onto the lowest step. Scowling, robes slightly askew, he plodded up six floors to Dumbledore's office.
'The stairs haven't been working for several days now,' said the Headmaster apologetically as Snape stumbled in, panting. 'It means I get very few visitors these days. Do take a seat, dear boy, and catch your breath. Lemon drop?'
'Nnuuh,' wheezed Snape.
'Ah. Well,' Dumbledore seated himself behind his desk, which was curiously bare. 'Let me get to the point, Severus. Even though we'll soon reach a point where Dark Arts won't even exist, I retained Defence Against the Dark Arts among our summer school course offerings.'
'Yes. I was wondering about that,' said Snape, taking deep breaths.
'You may also have noticed that I've listed our two Muggle literature teachers, Mr. McCourt and Ms. Jones, as guest lecturers in Remus's class.'
Snape stared at Dumbledore, his eyes narrowed. 'Forgive me, but I'd assumed that was a mistake in the schedules. A--what do Muggles call it?--a typo. After all, the house elves are so unused to taking dictation.'
'No, no mistake,' said Dumbledore.
'Then I don't understand.
Dumbledore smiled, and his eyes twinkled for the first time in weeks. Snape braced himself for bad news.
'I believe,' said the Headmaster, 'that of all the proposed solutions and stop-gaps we're adopting, and of all the Muggle skills we're learning in order to survive in a world without spells, wands, and potions, our best hope for the future lies in rediscovering one of the most ancient powers.'
'Which is--?'
'The power to name.'
'To name what?
The old man leaned back in his chair and regarded the younger ex-wizard with a benevolence that Snape found enormously irritating.
'The power to name,' he repeated, still smiling. 'Think about it. Particularly in relation to our two literary guests, with respect to whom I need your assistance.'
'My assistance?'
'Severus, you really must stop repeating everything I say.'
'Perhaps,' said Snape through his teeth, 'if you would kindly clarify your meaning, Headmaster. . .'
'I'm getting there, my dear boy. I understand that in addition to those abilities with which we're all familiar, you are also, so to speak, well-versed in Muggle poetry.'
Snape opened his mouth to ask--How do you know that? He thought better of it, closed his mouth, folded his hands in his lap, and looked expectant. Dumbledore nodded approvingly.
'Starting this coming Tuesday evening, I'd like you to attend DADA classes as Remus's assistant.'
Snape rose halfway out of his chair.
'I? Lupin's assistant?'
Dumbledore held up his hand and gently motioned for Snape to sit back down. 'Perhaps liaison would be a more appropriate description. Remus's background in literature is--erm --somewhat sparse. Your knowledge of poetry will help provide much-needed context. You'll be able to mediate between the now-fading world of magic and a world in which another kind of magic can hold sway--for those who know how to use it.'
'Are you suggesting,' said Snape, picking his words with care, 'that poetry and stories can somehow harness power?'
'If you're willing to cooperate with Remus and his two lecturers, perhaps we will be able to test that theory.'
Snape sighed, adopting his best put-upon look.
'Very well, if you insist.'
He would rather have died than let Dumbledore know how piqued he was by any chance, however slim, to wield true power again.
Continued in Ch. 3 . . .