Chapter Forty-Three: Some Small Madness
"Why, Ms. Umbridge!" Dumbledore greeted. "How are you this fine evening?"
"Oh, I am very well indeed," the toadly woman simpered. She had the air of Pansy Parkinson about to rat on someone. "And yourself?"
"I have discovered that plum pudding is my favorite after all." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "It's taken quite awhile to decide."
"Well…erm…I suppose that's good news," Dolores fumbled before brightening her beady little eyes. "I have some very disturbing letters here." She held up two pieces of parchment, one of which was a mere drawing, and one of which was an elegantly written epistle. "More Aurors from America, Albus? Without Ministry approval? Tsk, tsk." Her simpering, triumphant little smile was really quite nauseating to behold. She handed Dumbledore the letters, which he looked over with a growing smile. When he saw the drawing, the smile turned into a joyous belly laugh.
"Dolores, my dear, I can't see how the Ministry would object to some professors' relatives coming for Christmas."
"What?" Umbridge just about swallowed her uvula. "That is an American Aurory document, authorizing three agents to operate from Hogwarts!"
"Precisely." Albus smiled. "They promised to make some of their famous pancakes for breakfast tomorrow."
"This is absolutely-!"
A sudden sound silenced the bureaucrat, and indeed, much of the room. Very calmly, Professor Lupin opened the front door of the Hall, as if the knocking were some late guest.
It was.
"Why…Happy Christmas!" the surprised professor greeted. Ronan and the other two centaurs nodded, their hooves clicking on the stone floor.
"It is an especially fine night for revelry," Ronan agreed.
Umbridge had gone a very becoming shade of ivory.
"Headmaster Dumbledore?" the smallest centaur inquired, clip-clopping across the floor. He had something green in his hands. "In celebration of your human holiday."
"Thank you, Bern." Albus accepted the potted holly plant. "Professor Sprout will be very pleased. And for you." The bearded man motioned to a sixth-year prefect, who brought an elegant spyglass, of wood with brass finishings, and offered it with a bow to the centaur. "In celebration of the season's brightening of Andromeda."
"Thank you, Dumbledore."
"To what do we owe our …guests' presence?" Lucius Malfoy inquired, calmly for him. It was fairly clear that he had not been pleasantly surprised.
"I invited them." A few rows of students parted and Cass Tyler stepped forward. It would have been perfectly seeming to give Malfoy an imperious look, but she didn't, instead facing the young centaur and curtsying. "Bern, son of Ronan."
"Cassandra, daughter of Antigone." Bern bowed.
What passed between the young centaur and the werewolf seemed to be some kind of ritual. One raised a hand, as did the other, and solemnly, each of them cracked the knuckles of that hand finger by finger, keeping the other hand firmly at their side. During these five simultaneous snapping sounds, each of them stared deeply into the other's eyes. The process was then repeated with the other hand, before Bern let out a joyous whinny and Cass a howl. It should be remarked that Umbridge disappeared upon hearing said whinny.
There was a silence after this remarkable performance. Finally, Ronan cleared his throat.
"It grows warm within this human hall. May your holiday pass pleasantly under the brilliant stars."
"And may your winter sky be clear," Cass replied, curtsying again.
With some soft clipping and clopping, the centaurs left. The students, gathered in little knots, began to talk again, but silence still reigned over the space near the high table.
"You invited the centaurs?" Lucius Malfoy asked quietly of Cass and Dumbledore.
"I did." Cass gave him a slightly bold look, as if she expected him not to believe her.
"And they came?" Malfoy's voice was expressionless.
"Our Professor Tyler is very skilled as a diplomat," Dumbledore explained, his eyes for once not twinkling. Lucius smiled tightly, a somewhat sarcastic expression.
"Is she?" There wasn't quite a note of mocking in his voice, but one almost heard it anyway. "Such an adept…even knowing the centaur hail."
"One learns such things when one is accepted into a centaur tribe." Cass wasn't quite challenging Lucius, not in any way that could be proved, but like his mocking, it was there anyway.
"A werewolf turned centaur?" Lucius' eyebrow was up.
"A werewolf is more welcome than a wizard." Cass' tone was increasingly icy. Lucius smirked.
"Clearly. To beasts their own."
"Lucius!" Dumbledore actually showed ire, which caused several of the people who had been watching closely to jump. "One would expect-"
"No, no, Headmaster," Cass gave Dumbledore her best innocent, winning smile; the one Ginny had helped her to perfect. "Mr. Malfoy's remark is no insult. It rather explains why pureblood families interbreed."
At that point Narcissa intervened.
"Pardon me, Headmaster, Professor," she airily remarked. "I want my husband for a dance."
"And my wife the same," John Tyler announced, taking Cass' hand in his. The two peacemakers spun their spouses away, having narrowly averted a titanic clash between holiday waltzes. Dumbledore sighed audibly and sought out his seat.
"Minerva, I need some more lemon drops."
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"That was easily the scariest thing I have ever-" Neville shook his head. Ginny and Harry nodded. "I mean, they were just about to duel each other, weren't they?"
"I think so."
"No wonder she hates him, though," Ginny observed. "That bastard treats all Muggle-borns like shit, and she's a werewolf and a Yank to boot."
"Not to mention he's afraid of her," a calm voice added from behind them. Neville was surprised to see Draco.
"Malfoy!"
"Yeah?"
"But…?"
"Didn't you tell him?" Draco gave Ginny a little frown, then turned back to Neville, offering a hand."Pax?"
"Er…yeah, pax…" Neville still looked a bit gobsmacked.
"And I'm really, really sorry about Trevor. I didn't realize he was your pet when I…y'know." For a moment, both boys looked intensely uncomfortable. "Good lord, man, look like you've never seen a Slytherin." Draco checked over the Gryffindor's shoulder to make sure his father was occupied. "I'm on your side, now."
"Oh, sure." Neville had recovered himself and was beginning to go a bit sarcastic. "The son of a Death Eater's sympathetic to fighting You-Know-Who?"
"Actually, he is," Ginny pointed out. "Professor Cass converted him."
"Well, actually, it was more my dad making a colostomy bag of himself and my mum turning out to hate Moldy-Voldy, too…but yeah, she helped a bit."
Neville crossed his arms across his chest and frowned.
"Prove it." Draco sighed and rolled his eyes.
"How?"
"…I don't know." Neville was still frowning. "Do something a Death Eater'd never do."
"Besides wear boxers with little brooms on them?" Draco went scarlet and Ginny smirked. "Fly's down."
"He can't do much with his father here, Neville," Harry explained.
"Yeah he can…" Neville pondered the possibilities. "Go up and say something nice to that little first-year!"
"Which?"
"The little one there, the Gryffindor." Draco grinned.
"I'll do you one better, mate."
And before the eyes of everyone who was paying attention, the Head Boy asked the little Gryffindor first-year girl to dance. Anyone who saw it thought that he was either doing it on a bet, being surprisingly nice on Dumbledore's orders, or plotting something. The Slytherin parents assumed he was doing it out of teenage rebellion to offend Lucius. Narcissa didn't really give a rat's ass. Lucius wasn't paying attention, and neither, it seemed, was Snape.
"How long can we do this?" he whispered surreptitiously to Hermione.
"I don't know."
"If anyone comes closer, pretend that we're arguing."
"About what?"
"I don't know."
"Terpsichora potion and whether it should be illegal?" Hermione suggested.
"That'll do. Where are they now?"
"Cass is by the drinks."
"Alone?"
"No, she's talking to Ron and Blaise. Where's Malfoy?"
"Sitting with Crabbe Senior. He's watching Cassandra."
It was really quite unnerving, the way the Death Eater watched the werewolf move about the party, chatting with her students. Several sets of students came to greet her, more in kind of a 'look who I'm with' than anything else. Cass seemed for the most part her usual affable self, at least to most, but Hermione could tell that she was not. Being watched that closely was bound to make anyone feel a bit uncomfortable, but considering the watcher, Cass likely felt more like a goldfish about to be gobbled down by a cat.
Quite suddenly, Lucius Malfoy stood. Severus moved in the direction he seemed to be going, but it was too late. Malfoy had asked Professor Trelawney to dance. With no other option, Severus asked Poppy Pomfrey. Next Malfoy moved to Professor McGonagall, who must have been rather missing her walking stick for an excuse, and then came Madam Hooch. Hermione relaxed a little, but Severus had been a teacher too long not to grow more worried. It was the perfect ploy. Lucius was simply dancing with every female teacher there, so that it would not seem in the slightest way obvious when he got to Cass.
Narcissa, having the sense God gave a stump and more, began working through the male teachers similarly. Professor Lupin and she looked rather nice together, as did she and Professor Vector, but Flitwick didn't really do much besides flatter the fact that the blond woman was rather tall. Hagrid completely ruined the illusion during the next song, making poor Narcissa look almost ridiculously short, but she was game enough to have chosen a fairly boisterous swing number. The twirls and lifts involved in their wild choreography brought applause from the students. Hermione, watching with the air of someone seeing a tiny car full of thirty clowns have a wreck, frowned.
"Didn't know Hagrid could dance like that, did you?" a familiar voice asked. Cass was at Hermione's elbow, a metal flask in her hand.
"Let me guess, you taught him?" Hermione frowned at the liquor in her friend's hand.
"Nope. John and Remus did." Cass took another belt from the flask, then, noticing Hermione looking at it, offered it to her. "Scotch?"
"You aren't supposed to be drinking!" Hermione snatched the contraband object from Cass and quickly hid it by lowering her hand. "Especially not here! What if someone saw you?"
"Constant vigilance?" Cass grinned haplessly. "I say I've took a leaf out of Moody's book?"
"Jesus, per'fessor," Blaise remarked, appearing with a little can. "Have one of these, and fast. If that miserable bleach-blond jagoff wants to dance with you next, you can't smell like a brewery."
"How'd you know she was-?" Hermione asked.
"Who do you think gave her the Scotch?" Blaise asked.
"Blaise!"
"Hermione!" Blaise retorted, acting as if she were following some rule. "When a professor looks like she's going to have a duel, you give her some stiffener to calm her down."
"When has alcohol ever made her calm?"
"When did my students decide I was deaf?" Cass mumbled, gnawing on two Altoids at once.
"Blaise, if there's bloodshed tonight and I have to clean up dead werewolf parts," Hermione threatened.
"I think dead Malfoy parts are more likely," Blaise observed. "Ten Galleons says she guts him like an eel."
"I d'want to gut anyone." Cass frowned. "Look, just because some sumbitch purebloody pole-up-arse decided to show up and spend the evening dancing like Fred Astaire with dropsy-"
"Doesn't mean she'll ruin her new dress to kick his ass." Tonks grinned, appearing from behind them. "Tyler, gel, he's running out of feminine pedagogues. Shall I go ahead of you and step on his foot?"
"Naw," Cass decided bravely, sounding rather like she was next in line for an anaesthetic-free root canal. "I can handle this." As their professor moved off and got into conversation with Flitwick, Hermione and Blaise frowned. Tonks' hair shifted colors slightly, but they hardly noticed.
"Why do I think we should send for backup?" Hermione asked. "Do we even have backup?" Tonks sighed.
"I already sent for it. Ruddy late."
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Voldemort's plan had grown infinitely subtler in the passing months. Lucius Malfoy was too suspect, so a stunthad been arranged to demonstrate his supposed loyalty to the Ministry. It involved the most loyal Death Eater of them all, who, ironically, was also the most expendable.
Since the venue had been chosen as Hogwarts School, Severus had not been told. It would add to his realistic expression of surprise, and it would stop any 'precautions' from making it look too convenient. Even Pettigrew had vouched for the fact that Severus didn't like students –at least not Slytherins, getting hurt. If every Slytherin left the Ball early or was otherwise conveniently out of the way, someone could pick up on it and suspect.
There was only one problem in the setup. The most loyal, most kamikaze Death Eater of them all…had misunderstood the orders. Direly.
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