Chapter Forty-Six: Lang, Darrow and Lecter

"Can anyone tell me why this scene is ironic?"

It was a bitterly cold January afternoon, with a roomful of students warm in the Shrieking Shack. Their professor, her left arm eerily limp and lifeless at her side, had a narrow gray remote in her hand. An image of hundreds of identical workers heading into a tunnel as more headed out was frozen on the movie screen opposite. "Ginny?"

"Because this was what would happen in Germany in a few more years?"

"Precisely."

Cass was showing one of the weirder 'crucial classics' included in her curriculum: Fritz Lang's 1927 film Metropolis. It was black-and-white, but that description didn't just apply to the screen. It was an exceedingly metaphorical tale, with so many Biblical and dogmatic references that the young professor had a few assorted Bibles on her desk for looking up specifics. Since the film was German and rather old, Cass had elected only to show it to her most dedicated Muggle Studies students. Those who had taken it as an elective before the course went mandatory were in a separate, almost honors-level class, and they would be receiving extra credit for their work.

A few scenes later, a hand went up, casting a shadow on the screen. The film stopped mid-frame and Cass called: "Luna?"

"The Molech machine?"

"Biblical reference. Molech was a pre-Exodus deity that demanded human sacrifice."

"Oh, I knew that. I was just wondering why the one actor's headdress is on sideways."

"I d'know. Might be a costuming cockup."

"Not a reference to Gog and Magog?"

"I don't know. Good point, there, Luna." Cass shrugged and hit the 'play' button on the DVD remote. "It could be."

As on the screen, the huge, special-effects intense Molech machine pretended to eat half-naked, sweaty actors alive to lubricate the pistons of the giant engine, Cass poured herself another cup of coffee with her right hand. Silent films, Lang's and Griffith's especially, were great for discussion-based classes. They were also, unfortunately, lousy for potty breaks. She managed to duck out and be back before the end of the next scene, albeit with her belt still undone. She tried and still couldn't manage the buckle one-handed. Fuck it. She pulled the belt out of the denim loops that held it and tossed it away.

"What was that?" Michael Corner asked.

"I have decided that belts are an evil pretension of the bourgeoisie and have therefore discarded mine. I advise you all to do the same."

To Cass' surprise, there was a rustling of buckles and then several belts joined hers in the corner. "I wasn't serious! Pick 'em up after the movie's done."

After the movie did finish, and after a rousing discussion of what Fritz Lang meant by the presence of nearly-bared, quite real and effectively joggling breasts in the 'Whore of Babylon' scene, Ginny and Luna approached their professor.

"About the Molech machine-?"

"Yeh?" Cass replied mid coffee-slurp.

"Well, what have you decided to call…you know?"

"Because if you called it the Molech machine it'd be a dead giveaway," Luna observed wryly.

"We've been calling it the 'you-know,' actually. Does it need a better name?" Cass was in a fairly wretched mood. Luna smiled happily.

"The kids call it the Secret Weapon."

The new wallpaper suddenly got a splattery coffee stain.

"How da' fuck d'the kids know about it?"

"Oh, they don't," Luna explained. "But there are rumors to the effect that the Professors Tyler are building a Secret Weapon which will someday and soon save us all."

"More along the lines of hope and fable than a security leak," Ginny added.

"Well, by Merlin's mighty balls themselves," Cass remarked sourly. "Tell y'what, Luna, let your dad expound on those rumors a bit in the 'Quibbler'. Make it huge. Call it whatever the fuck you like. Ginny, get Professor McGonagall to try and hush it up, so everybody knows. I want Moldy-Voldy's people convinced beyond the shadow of a doubt that we do not have any such weapon." The lean American set down her cup and reached for the coffee pot again with her only good hand, burning herself. "Fuck it all with a stick!" she cried, sinking back into a wingback armchair.

"Professor, are you okay?" Luna took the coffeepot and filled Cass's cup for her. "Not to be impolite, but you look like hell spat you out."

"Up yours," Cass retorted half-heartedly.

"She's right," Ginny pointed out, adding an extra silencing ward to the closed door. "Spill it, Yank, or I'll sic 'Mione on your ass."

"She's got more to worry about, pal, not to mention I could take her."

"Oh, sure, with one arm." Ginny frowned. "Explain yourself, or I'll have Professor Snape in here so fast his shoes'll smoke."

"He's not here, you little Gryffipuff- Slythindor- Huffleclaw…" Cass slurred.

"How much coffee have you had?" Luna asked suddenly, looking at the pot.

"Only 'bout five."

"Cups?"

"Pots."

"Today?" Ginny felt her professor's pulse. "Christ on a cracker, Yankee. What have you eaten today?" Cass shrugged and Ginny knew the answer: nothing. "And how much booze did you polish off last night?"

"She's been sober, Ginny," Luna pointed out.

"How'd you know?" Cass inquired sleepily.

"Your clothes don't smell of liquor, but you did sleep in them." Luna indicated the wrinkles in both the t-shirt and the black work robes. "Just like Dad before a deadline."

"She's burning up," Ginny told Luna, feeling Cass's forehead. "Better get Hagrid."

"I'm fucking fine…"

"Like hell you are." The redhead pulled on her cloak and handed the American's wand to Luna. "Keep her here. I'll be right back."

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"Dare I even ask?" Hermione looked testily at Hagrid, who was carrying Cass over his shoulder again. She had been refilling some of Madam Pomfrey's painkiller vials when they arrived. "If she's drunk again, just throw her in the-"

"I'm not drunk, for the thirteenth time!" Cass protested. "Put me down, you great fuzzy bear!"

"She's got a temperature and a pole up her arse the size of France," Ginny explained.

"Well, unless the blood is spurting or the limb is off, I can't be bothered," Hermione retorted. "Cass, drink this and get some rest, dammit." She slid a cup of something that smelled ghastly across the table. "Now."

"What is with you two?" Luna cried suddenly, silencing everyone. "Did Crookshanks choke on Professor Cass's pet fish and die?"

There was a horrified silence for about a minute.

"I never kept a fish."

"Wait a tick," Hagrid said, calmly setting the ruffled professor on her feet. "Is this because John and Severus aren' -?"

"Yes!" Ginny pointed a finger at the two offending witches. "They haven't come back from the last mission, have they? That's why you two are acting like a terminal Midol case!"

"Mission?" Luna looked confused. "Why would Professor Snape's not being back bother –oh, sweet peace! It's true, isn't it?" Hermione went ashen as the Ravenclaw produced a folded newsletter and indicated one of the articles. "Hermione, you and the Tylers and Snape are the reincarnations of the Four Founders, aren't you? I knew it! Where do you keep the badger?"

"Luna, for chrissakes, whatever you're smoking," Cass began.

"Oh, I know you have to deny it for the prophecy to come true, but seriously," Luna pulled out a little notepad and a quill, reporter-style. "Which of you is Gryffindor?"

"What prophecy?" Hermione asked.

"You remember, the one about the Four Founders being reincarnated and coming forth to do battle on the Dark and making the world safe for unicorns."

"Who made that prophecy?" Cass asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Professor Trelawney, last week."

"Oooh, look, Luna! A crumple-horned snorkack!" Hermione pointed to the window, easily distracting the eccentric girl.

"I don't see a-"

"Two of them! In the bushes, they're mating!" Cass added. "Run! If you sell pictures to a bestiality website you'll make millions."

"That's not a crumple –it's Professor Snape!" Luna excitedly pointed out the window. "He and Professor Tyler are dragging a-" She turned to tell her friends, but saw only an empty room. "Oh."

Four floors down, on the ground, Cass and Hermione recovered quite spectacularly from their bitchy spells. Despite numerous cuts and bruises on both, John and Severus were clearly quite happy to see them, Severus especially, and Harry and Ron, still in their Quidditch robes, were treated to quite a nasty shock.

It wasn't the fairly common sight of the Professors Tyler kissing and almost licking each other in an excess of joy that made their jaws drop, though. Just about everyone in the castle was used to that. Rather, it was the sight of straight-laced Hermione, the bookworm master general, being quite literally swept off her feet by their direly dour Potions Master.

"I love you, Severus."

"I love you too-"

"WHAT THE FUCK?!"

"How romantic," Luna blithely observed upstairs.

"Busted," Ginny mumbled to noone in particular.

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"But- but you can't-!"

"You're- she's- you two aren't-?"

"Aw, shut your traps, Gryffie boys." Cass had her good arm around her husband's neck and a lazily contented grin on her face. "Or I'll memory-charm you both."

"She'll do it," John agreed. "Haven't you already had to zap Ron, what, twice, m'love?"

They had gotten out to the Shrieking Shack with a minimum of arguing, but now the shock was giving way to argumentative older-brotheryness from the two unfortunate seventh-years.  The only people having even a speck of fun were Hagrid and Ginny, who appeared to be placing bets on who had kittens first, until Harry cast a betrayed look toward his girlfriend.

"Ginny, you knew about this?"

"My own sister was in on it?" Ron gasped.

"Well, not in on it, persay, I'd have heard about a three-way," Cass observed absently.

"Holy shit!"

"Look, guys, we can handle this. Severus, Hermione, go in there and shut the door." John indicated the kitchen. Ron went even redder about the ears.

"Don't leave them alone!"

"Alright, Hagrid, you go with them. Ginny, you stay here. Right?" The werewolf pulled off his torn winter cloak. "Cassie, would you ward the kitchen door?"

"Righty-day."

"Okay." John took out his wand and accio'd the assorted armchairs closer. "Sit down, everyone. We can straighten this out."

"Straighten this out?" Ron's eyes fairly bulged. Harry looked wounded.

"Our best friend and the Greasy Git are practically-!"

"Both of you!" The associate professor's voice boomed, louder and more impressively than Snape on his best day. "Now you will listen to evidence for the defense before bringing forth arguments in prosecution. Any further interruptions will be held in contempt of court. Do you understand me?" Mutely, the boys nodded.

"Court?" Ginny whispered to the longingly smiling Cass.

"I love it when he does lawyer," was the sighed reply.

"Counsel for the defense: Cassie."

"Oh, right." Cass stood up. "Your Honor, I postulate that 'Mione and Sevvy are arse-over-teakettle." Ron and Harry looked numbly at their professor. "I have caught Sevvy whistling after they've been working on a potion together."

"Whistling! Of course that lecherous-!"

"Mr. Weasley, you are out of line!" John pounded his gavel, then looked at his hand and realized he didn't have one. "Cassie, where's that mallet-y thing?"

"Use your shoe, darling."

"Right." The werewolf took off his shoe and pounded it on the coffee table. "Order! Mr. Weasley, you are in contempt of court. Fifty points from Gryffindor!"

"What?"

"I will make you see reason in any way I see fit, Mr. Potter. Continue, counsel."

"I hear banging," Hermione told Severus.

"I call my first witness, Miss Ginny Weasley," Cass announced. Ginny obligingly stood up and turned around. "Miss Weasley, does 'Mione love Sevvy?"

"I don't know-"

"Does it look like she at least fancies him?"

"Well, yeah, they adore each other, but-"

"You admit it! And does it appear that Sevvy is at least marginally less of a snarky, pole-up-arse, total Slytherin bat king when he's in her presence?"

"Completely. He's actually human."

"And is it not so, Miss Weasley," Cass began to stride around the room Billy Flynn style, "that Sevvy actually approached you for help in deciding 'Mione's birthday present?"

"Not even a birthday present!" Ginny burst out, grinning. "He wanted help for no particular reason!"

"I find that hard to believe, Ginny! And is it true that you have seen them snogging on no less than six occasions, and really liking it, no less?"

"Eight!"

"Your Honor, I postulate that if Hermione didn't know exactly what she was doing, she would not have remained Sevvy's potions apprentice a record five months after her project last year was done, turned in, and returned with an 'A'." Ron actually looked sick. "I further postulate that Sevvy is more in love with her than any man has been with any woman in the entire history of Great Britain!" Cass waved her hand triumphantly, then blew a kiss to John. "Present company excepted, of course."

"Objection," Ginny remarked mildly. "How do you propose to know this?"

"I read his diary once."

"Counselor, do you actually believe that these two are serious, responsible, and completely arse-over-teakettle?" John inquired sternly.

"I do!"

"And do you hereforth swear, that you vouch for both of their intellect, sincerity, and the mutual propriety of their intentions?"

"On my mother's grave!"

The Tylers were growing closer and closer as the line of questioning continued.

"You trust that your adopted brother Severus acts respectfully and without lecherous intent?"

"Completely."

"You believe that Hermione, your student and comrade-at-arms, is not only old enough, but further, bright enough, to know her own mind and heart?"

"As well if not better than I do mine," Cass almost whispered brushing John's hair out of his eyes for him. The couple came within a gnat's eyelash of a kiss, before Ron made a strangled noise and they turned back to the two boys, all business.

"Mr. Weasley, do you acknowledge these arguments?"

Ron glowered at them.

"Mr. Potter?"

There was a long silence before Harry cried:

"But he's fucking Snape!"

"Who has saved your life on –let me count, what is it? Three occasions?" Cass raised her eyebrow. "You don't honestly think he's evil, do you?"

"Look at the way he treats Harry, because of his dad!" Ron pointed out.

"As god-awfully as you treated Draco because of his?"

"That's different! Malfoy started it!"

"As did your father, Harry! Past mistakes do not render a person incapable or undeserving of redemption!" Cass was at her fiercest and everyone knew it. "So he's older? If I hadn't used a time-turner, John would be at least eight years older than me! And look at Dumbledore and McGonagall! They've got nearly four decades on Sevvy and 'Mione's age gap and look at them! So he's a Slytherin? So the fuck am I! So he's mean in class? From whom have you learned more in as short a time? You want to see mean in class, you give Hermione crap! I will show you mean!"

Cass threw a coffee cup to the ground, shattering it.
"You think being an ex-Death Eater is bad? Severus Snape has done more and worked harder to bring down Voldemort than any other wizard alive, including Albus Dumbledore and your godfather! Has it simply never occurred to you how much good he's done? And Hermione-!"

A vase joined the coffee cup.

"She's how many years ahead of your class intellectually, put up with how much crap in this war, and when two people like them are lucky enough to find each other, you two, supposedly her best friends, what do you do?" A saucer was thrown, but bounced. John had gotten out his wand and started countering the shrapnel as Cass raged. "So much for Gryffindors! I've seen better loyalty from Bellatrix Lestrange!"

"Speaking of," John interrupted mildly. "We did find her, dear. Would you levitate her in after you've finished?"

"Oh, I've finished with these two!"

With a final glare, Cass stormed out to the foyer, presumably to get the Petrified witch Severus and John had dragged back, but instead of bringing her in, she slammed the front door. Ginny looked out a window and saw the professor stomping through the snow, a stiff Bellatrix floating behind her.

"She's dragging her by the hair."

"Hell, I don't blame her." John looked concernedly out the window, then half-smiled at Ginny. "Got a camera?"

"What?"

"Well, that'd be one cool postcard…" The werewolf remembered the 'trial' and frowned. "Right." He drew his wand and unwarded the kitchen door. "You can come back, now, you three." As Hagrid, Hermione and Severus slunk in, John turned to Harry and Ron. "I think you two get it. Ginny, if you'd straighten this mess out? I've got to go catch my wife."

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One week later, things were mostly improved. The pathological Lestrange had been handcuffed, Muggle-fashion, to a hospital bed, and Cass was spending her time directly next to her –down with a roaring case of chicken pox on top of pneumonia. The insults were really quite colorful at first, but they soon got it down to a civilized back-and-forth of loathing.

"Filthy werewolf."

"Evil hag."

"Blood traitor."

"Dirty skank."

"Skank?" Bellatrix actually looked confused.

"Means a really…I'm not sure what it means. How'm I a blood traitor?"

"You're Lucius' girl, aren't you?"

"Huh?" Cass tried her best to look confused, but Bellatrix gestured, chain rattling, at her neck.

"You have his eyes…and the Malfoy nose, though it looks like you've broken it."

"Twice."

"Quidditch?"

"Hockey."

"Well, I should know. My sister married him," Bellatrix explained smugly.

"I know." Cass looked even more pissed than before.

"Blood traitor."

"Aunt Bella, are you trying to get yourself killed?" It was Tonks. "Keep in mind, she's got a wand and an Unforgiveables license."

"Yeah," Cass mumbled, hugging the stuffed badger Luna had sent and sniffling.

"And spots," Bellatrix pointed out.

"I've got chicken pox."

"At your age?" Tonks looked confused.

"I somehow managed to miss it as a kid. Lucky me."

"Your sarcasm reminds me. Severus sent this." Tonks handed the werewolf a vial with a cork in it.

"Yay!" Cass pulled out the cork and started drinking it.

"Tell me that's Wolfsbane potion?"

"Nope. Anti-itching stuff." Tonks raised an eyebrow at her aunt. "What's wrong, Aunt Bella? Scared of Professor Cass?"

"Filthy blood traitors."

"Thank you so much, 'Dora," Cass replied politely. "There's a whole heap of those cinnamon things you like in the upper left drawer of my desk for you to eat during class."

"Shall I bring some up?"

"No, thank you." Cass bared her teeth maliciously at Bellatrix. "I'm not hungry…yet."

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