Reviews: Exactly! How mad is Luna? Definitely not as daft as some people think, but not quite normal... How do we know who we can trust ?
LOST PERSPECTIVE III : REPERCUSSIONS
By Bellegeste
CHAPTER 14: THE FIREWHISKY TALKING
Professor Snape confronted the class, arms folded across his chest, his cloak hanging in sepulchral folds, looking for all the world as though he had just stepped out of his tomb. Ravenclaw Year Five sat, straight-backed and attentive, awaiting instruction.
"I give you due warning," Snape said smoothly, "that today I am in no mood for ignorance, incompetence or indifference. If any of you is incapable of participating in this lesson without manifesting these attributes, then I suggest you leave forthwith. No one? Very well. I shall, therefore, expect your undivided attention and a batch of impeccable potions at the end of the class."
The combined brainpower of Ravenclaw did not consider this an unrealistic set of requirements.
Snape could have done with taking his own advice. His concentration was patently not focussed on the group of eager fifth years. His carbon-tipped stare, which could drill fear into a student like a masonry-bit into Balsa, was aimed inwards, striking only pockets of emptiness. For all he knew, Harry could be dead.
He became aware that the class was still waiting. He was a professional. He delivered the subject quickly, authoritatively, but his heart was not in it.
"Last week you performed an analysis of basic, generic antidotes and their effectiveness against common, everyday afflictions: wasp and bee stings, Doxy bites, Lobalung poison, Billywig stings and so forth.
"Today we shall consider antidotes targeted at specific toxins, with particular reference to how their application, under different conditions, affects the properties of the individual poison. For example, the venom of the African Runespoor is, in its pure state, haemotoxic, neurotoxic and cytotoxic. Minor formulaic adjustment to the antidote, however..."
The listeners were rapt; the note-takers busily scribbling down his every word for later perusal. He knew that the example he had chosen was really too advanced for fifth year level - usually he stuck to a straight evaluation of Streeler slime and its potential, in dilute form, as a decongestant. So why had he embarked on the vastly complicated analysis of Runespoor venom - was it purely because he had a fresh sample available? Or was it yet another masochistic torture: reliving that Saturday morning in the lab, with Harry chatting happily to Szahuna?
And now Harry was missing. Snape had returned to Hogwarts the previous morning after his release from detention, only to find that Harry had disappeared. There had been no sightings for three days, nothing to indicate where he had gone, whether voluntarily or against his will, whether he was even alive or dead. The Floo-trace, initiated by Shacklebolt, had tracked him to the Ministry of Magic, but after that the trail went cold. It was incredible that no one at the Ministry had seen him. He could be anywhere, with anyone...
"Sir?"
The class was waiting again. Snape sighed.
"The three variations as detailed on the board..." Snape resumed. With a flick of his wand the information appeared, though, he had to admit, the writing was less disciplined than his usual precise script. "...indicate how the correct application of antidotal agents convert the toxin for use as a painkiller, an anti-spasmodic and ... yes? What is it Feingeld?"
An earnest, squinting, dark-haired girl had put up her hand.
"I'm sorry, Sir, but I can't read what it says on line six. I've forgotten my glasses."
It wasn't her fault. She was just the ill-timed catalyst in the reaction which transformed Snape's emotions that day from unstable to explosive. He bore down on the unfortunate girl.
"Miss Feingeld - if you cannot come prepared to participate fully in my lessons, then you need not come at all. Leave at once," he said, coldly.
"But, Sir!" In all her years as a goody-two-shoes, she had never been treated so unfairly.
"Are you remonstrating with me, Miss Feingeld? I strongly advise against it. Now, LEAVE!"
She scuttled to the door like a frightened Fire-Crab.
Snape challenged the room with a glare.
"Does anyone else find my writing illegible?"
Woe betide them if they did. He saw a field of bowed heads...
"Very well. The instructions for today's potion are also on the board. Would any of you like me to read them out loud? No? Well then, you may commence. Get on with it."
He knew his anger was unjustified, but the menacing note and mordancy crept into his voice unbidden. The Ravenclaws began to measure out the ingredients, keeping a wary eye on the professor - it was not often that they were on the receiving end of his trenchant tongue - that pleasure was generally reserved for Gryffindor.
Then, from the centre of the room, came the unmistakable 'tink' of cracking glass as hot liquid met cold flask, and an equally audible, "Oh, hell!".
Snape pivoted and zoned-in on the offender.
"Carelessness and profanity, Boothroyd? Both unacceptable. Get out!"
"I'm sorry, Sir."
"I said, 'Get out'. NOW!"
Another scurrying departure.
Snape stalked to the walk-in supply cupboard and shut the door behind him. He leaned against it, breathing deeply. What did he think he was doing? Honestly, he didn't care any more. Teaching antidotes to acne-ed adolescents was just too trivial, too piffling, too contemptible... He could not bear being in the classroom with all those studious, safe children.
Firewhisky could, arguably, be classified as a Potions ingredient. There was a bottle on the shelf. Snape gave it a calculating look. He was assessing his ability to weather the storm. In a bid to stay afloat, he threw a few of his heavier principles overboard, unscrewed the bottle-top and took several hefty swigs. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he carefully replaced the bottle, collected the anti-venom he had come for, squared his shoulders, took another deep breath and rejoined the class...
"Yawning, Pritchard? Shall I infer that you are finding this lesson insufficiently stimulating? A trifle tedious? Sporific? Am I boring you, boy? GO!!"
Snape circled the classroom like an Orca picking off seal cubs, tossing them into the air for sport.
"Did you wash your hands after sneezing, Shapiro? These antidotes would be required for medicinal purposes; they will not be enhanced by viral contamination. Poor Potion hygiene! Leave the class!
"McKinsey! It says 'three pinches of dried Murtlap'. Inexcusable inattention and incompetence! Be off with you. Shoo! Go away!
"You did what? You spilled it? Jarvis, OUT! Carmichael - just leave it and go. NOW!
"What's that, Parry? I heard that! Insubordination! Leave! Go! Be gone! Quit! Get the out of here!"
Snape was jettisoning students and standards like so much unwanted ballast.
Feeling suddenly light-headed, he sat down heavily at his desk and dropped his head into his hands. The four remaining fifth years watched him doubtfully, apprehensive about approaching a firework after the touch paper has gone out. Snape felt their eyes dissecting him.
"Class dismissed," he said weakly.
Last to leave, as always, Luna paused by the front desk.
"Did you know you have rips at the 2nd and 3rd auric level, Sir? That is indicative of stress, Sir. And your Crown Chakra is completely blocked, Sir. It's hardly surprising you've got a headache. Have you ever considered Reiki?"
"Lovegood, I will not tolerate impertinence and over-familiarity from my students!" He would have shouted, but he didn't have the energy. "For Merlin's sake, just leave me alone!"
"Right-oh, Sir." Luna was not remotely abashed. She was half-way through the dungeon door when Professor Lupin pushed past her, hurrying to find the Potions master.
"Where is he? Has he gone mad?" he cried wildly.
"No, he's just very unhappy," said Luna.
"Snape! What the hell is going on?" Lupin stormed to the desk and accosted his colleague. "There's a corridor full of fifth years in tears, saying that you've ruined their RIBs! They're lodging a complaint with Flitwick now."
Snape looked up with a hang-dog expression.
"Their 'Record of Irreproachable Behaviour' scores are of the utmost irrelevance to me," he said flatly.
"They also said you were drunk!" Lupin accused.
"Not yet, I'm not." Snape laughed. "Bonum vinum laetificat cor hominis!" (1)
"Severus, what's got into you? Pull yourself together, man!"
Noticing that Luna had followed him back into the classroom and was regarding Snape with curiosity, he told her,
"It's alright, Luna, you can go now. I'll look after Professor Snape."
"Anyone would think he was dead," she murmured, stopping by the door to pick up her shapeless bag from where she had dumped it.
"What did you say?" Both professors were staring at her.
"I said..." she was about to repeat herself.
"Yes, we heard what you said. What did you mean?" insisted Lupin. Snape said nothing. He had gone very pale.
"Harry. He's not dead," she said, and sauntered out of the classroom.
Lupin expected Snape to leap up and rush after her, haul her back for interrogation, but he remained seated, staring blankly ahead, not trusting himself to get up. The werewolf gave a little cough.
"Ahem, I'll go and fetch her back then, shall I?" He trotted after her calling, "Luna! I say, Luna, could we have a word? Could you pop back into class for a minute, please?"
She stood in front of Snape, absently twisting her leather bracelet, observing the Professor, seeing how the fine yellow and orange shafts of mental and emotional energy leaked through the greenish astral auric layer, draining his psyche. Crystal Healing might work too, she thought. Maybe he'd go for that...
"Miss Lovegood, you will tell me what you know about my son," Snape ordered, lifting his tired eyes to meet hers, his desire for truth as powerful as any Veritaserum.
"He wanted to talk to Sirius Black," Luna replied, keeping the answer simple. "We held a séance, but Black didn't materialise. So Harry went through the Archway to meet him."
Remus' eyes widened; he put his hand gently on her arm.
"Luna, think very carefully about what you are saying. Do you mean the Archway in the Arch Room in the Department of Mysteries. The place where Sirius Black died?"
She nodded as though that should have been obvious.
"Oh Merlin! Stupid boy! What does he think he's doing getting mixed up with Sciomancy? Why didn't he come and talk to me? Or to Severus? What was so important that he had to say it to old Padfoot, eh? Oh, Harry, Harry!
"Luna, how could you let this happen? You knew what Harry was planning to do and yet you didn't try to stop him? How could you be so irresponsible? Whose ridiculous idea was this? Didn't he pause for one moment to think how dangerous it was - how much trouble it would cause? Haven't we got enough to worry about, what with You-Know-Who's taunts getting more outlandish every day? What about his father, for goodness sake? Didn't Harry consider him at all - locked up on some absurd, trumped-up charge? Hasn't he got enough on his plate without Harry adding to it? What was so urgent that he had to go to such extremes? Well, Luna?"
Remus gave a good impression of wringing his hands, pacing the floor, fighting the instinct to throw back his head and howl, full moon or no.
Luna tried, in her own way, to be helpful.
"I think he needed to shout at Stubby."
"And what, in Merlin's name, is that supposed to mean? For once in your life, Luna, try and talk like a normal, rational human being!"
In his agitation, Remus found anything but a direct answer irritating.
Luna tried again:
"Harry had to tell Sirius Black that he was angry at him for leaving him alone. He needed 'closure'..."
"And you let him go through with it? Luna, what were you thinking?"
"Well, I thought that, if it worked, it would be really interesting..." she replied calmly - she might have been referring to a new recipe for Glogg.
All this time Snape had sat motionless. He appeared to be examining his fingernails. Eventually he spoke softly, his voice hollow.
"So. He's gone. Enfin, c'est fini." (2)
He rose and mechanically began to stack the parchment essays on his desk into neat piles, hiding behind the needless occupation - sheltering from the black hole of grief that was collapsing universes all around him as far as his mind could see.
"If you would both excuse me, I have work to do." He was coldly sober now. He gestured them towards the door. Remus was appalled.
"For Merlin's sake, man, don't be ridiculous! You can't go on as if nothing's happened. You need to go and lie down. Take a Potion. Try and get some sleep. You're in no fit state..."
"I don't need you fussing over me, werewolf," Snape snarled.
"But Harry's coming back!" Luna protested. "He's not dead, I told you. You're not listening." She felt that this highly significant detail was in danger of being overlooked.
"Not now, Luna. Now's not a good time." Lupin was ushering her out.
Snape had swung round to face her. His expression was suddenly vicious, like a Black Mamba, spitting venom and striking out at anyone who dared to try to get close to him.
"If your pitiful protestations are intended in some way to alleviate my... ...loss, then let me tell you that you are wasting your time. They do not. They cannot. I find them both insulting and offensive. Harry's disappearance is not a subject for levity or insincere platitudes.
"I take it that you encouraged him in this act of folly. It seems that you have ensnared and corrupted him with your insidious psycho-babble. While you were content to confine yourself to the Tarot and Rune reading, you managed to acquit yourself as a harmless eccentric. However, this latest Sciomantic dalliance is anything but harmless: it is dangerous in the extreme. Your actions are deplorable; the consequences... the consequences..."
He did not finish the sentence. "Get out!" he hissed. "Get out of my sight!"
Luna was dismissed for the third time that morning. Instead of heading for the exit, she started to rummage thoughtfully in her bag.
"Harry said..." she began.
"GET OUT!"
But Luna persisted.
"Sir, Harry said that if anything happened to him, I should give you this." She held out a small book with a dingy, taupe/grey cover and blue lettering. "I know he's OK, and he'd probably rather give it to you himself when he gets back, but seeing as you're so upset... You have to look at page 214. He says there's some kind of secret message on page 214. A message from his mother..."
An eerie chill had penetrated the dungeon. Snape took the book wordlessly. It might have been a phial containing, equally, the elixir of life or Nundu breath; he didn't know which. He sank down onto his chair and sat, holding the book before him in both hands, staring blindly at the cover.
"Will you both go now," he whispered. "Just go. Let me read this alone."
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1 Bonum vinum laetificat cor hominis : A good wine cheers man's heart
2 Enfin, c'est fini : it's over at last
END OF CHAPTER. Next chapter: it's the last one... All your questions will be answered (or maybe not!). A MOTHER'S LOVE.
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