I don't own the Harry Potter universe. And Rowling does not own Starch! So there.
I know that this posting does not have my usual one week lag time. Please don't expect this to become the status quo I am just getting impatient with how long it is taking to get this fic done.
Chapter Twenty-four is dedicated to Aphex Twin. Write me a review!
Chapter Twenty-three:
Thursday was a perfectly wonderful day for many millions of people all over the world. None of those people had potions at Hogwarts. None of those lucky people had to put up with a certain Potions Master, who had not gotten his day off to a good start.
'I can't believe that I forgot that I hadn't given him the Wolf's Bane Potion.'
*Oh, I do! *
After throwing up for lunch, he tried to prepare himself for his first Potions Theory class of the year. As the students filed in he gave the eager Miss Granger a withering smirk, then choked on the humiliating comment that he had prepared for her.
"Mister—" he had to clear his throat, "Mister, Longbottom? You are aware that this is Potions Theory, are you not?"
Neville could not look up from the floor, "Yes Sir." He cautiously stepped closer to Snape's desk so that the others could pass by.
"What are you doing here then?"
"My grandmother wanted me to take the class. She wrote the Headmaster and had me transferred into it, Sir."
"And that happened today," Neville nodded, "Take a seat then."
Looking over the room full of, mostly Slytherin, students he started class with an appropriately intimidating speech. "Until now I have had to pace the curriculum to allow for the, less dedicated students. By signing up for this class you have set yourselves apart from them and have thereby placed yourselves into the center of my world."
He did not walk back and forth in front of his desk, as he usually did when speaking to a class. Instead he stood, with arms folded loosely across his chest and looked each of the Fifth-years in the eye.
"You have no idea what you have just submitted yourselves to, but you will regret it. I have no time for fools, or slackers. For each exercise you will either pass, or fail. If you fail you will be thrown out. No exceptions. No excuses." He flung a piece of chalk over his shoulder at the blackboard; it caught itself a breath away from being smashed and began writing out a list of ingredients, "Begin."
He slipped out the door while the scratching of quills filled the air. Due to a conflict between his and Lupin's schedules he needed to be in both Potions Theory and Fifth year Defense at the same time.
Because of the previous night's, events Lupin had not been able to teach his classes today. Snape had worked out a tenuous contingency plan ahead of time, and it seemed to be working. His own Fifth Sixth and Seventh year classes were being supervised by The Baron; no childish acting out there. McGonagall was covering First year Defense. That freed him up for Lupin's Second through Fifth year classes. Sixth and Seventh year Defense had a study hall supervised by Sir Nicholas.
'What was that crazy old woman thinking? Pushing him into this when he hates everything about it. I mean he even hates me.'
*I hate you too. Come to think of it, who doesn't hate you? *
~
The note taking had lasted for nearly all of the period and when the tiny nub of chalk that remained slumped down to the holder everyone sighed with relief.
With a curl of his lips Snape (who had had to dismiss the Defense class early to make it back in time) mocked the entire class at once, "I am not going to be failing any of you, today, as you all seem to have managed to finish your notes. Your next assignment is even simpler. All you must do is come to class next Wednesday with the name of the potion whose formula you have just copied. Dismissed."
He made it to the next Defense class on time, but running back and forth between his dungeon and Lupin's tower was starting to make his head ache again.
~
Skipping dinner he instead checked on the blood samples that had been taken early that morning. The twenty cc's drawn from Lupin, while in full wolf form, were lined up beside identical vials of Black's blood, and also drawn while in canine form. There was just room in the transport container for the pint of blood that he would be drawing from Lupin shortly. Then it would all be sent to Natalie (someone that he knew who had access to the equipment that could perform the tests he wanted done.)
Correcting the work for his own classes and all of Lupin's would not have taken nearly so long as it did, if he hadn't tried to curb his sarcastic comments while doing Remus' job.
With all of his official duties taken care of, Snape wearily approached Lupin's door, 'How could the Headmaster have put them both down here? It's not like I didn't have enough trouble getting my work done as it was. I now have to dodge Lupin and Black to answer the Dark Lord's next summons.'
*Don't forget the Agents waiting for you in Hogsmead.*
The hallway began to tilt and he felt as though he was looking through a dense fog, 'I need to get more sleep,' he thought as his vision became totally obscured.
@---,--'---------
Sirius had spent the morning in Remus' quarters. Still too tired from the moon and everything else that had occurred last night Remus readily took up Sirius' offer of 'A few rounds of chess.' A few rounds stretched into lunch then Remus had taken a nap, and in the afternoon Sirius came back across the hall to see if he was up to a chat.
"Yah," Remus stretched and yawned while stepping aside to let Sirius in. "I've actually been meaning to talk to about a few things too." He motioned toward one of the large fluffy chairs in front of the fireplace. "I used to have a window," he apologetically murmured.
"I stared at the stone walls in my living room so long that I started to see pictures in their texture. You could go crazy cooped up down here for too long." He laughed, "And that's from a guy who just got out of Azkaban! Seriously though, there is a lot of weird stuff going on and I think we should get to the bottom of it."
"Like the PMR diagnosis and the Plasti-juice I told you about."
Sirius raised an eyebrow, "How did you find out about all of this?" he sat forward, intent on the answer.
"He told me," Remus grinned.
"Huh?"
His grin faded as he explained, "I think it's a side affect of the Plasti-juice, but when he takes it, it's like he's on Viritaserum or something. Plus he spooks easy and acts, well strange."
"Hasn't he always been strange?" Sirius conjured a tea tray and helped himself.
Remus shook his head and also took a cup of tea, "No, I mean strange for him. He gets this different look in his eyes and he… well just acts different." He set his cup aside knowing he sounded lame.
When Sirius nodded he sat up again, "I think I know what you mean," Sirius said around a cookie. "He was eating an orange when I found him in the woods," he gave an overly significant look, "And in that lab of his-"
Another cookie was begging to be eaten and he obliged it before continuing, mostly because he knew it would bug Remus.
"Would you stop stuffing your face and finish your sentence?" Remus finally broke down and demanded.
Taking a sip of tea, and earning a sigh of stretched patients he set his cup aside with a grin, "He keeps a collection of American Muggle music. From the eighty's!" They both cringed, "The decade that good taste forgot."
Finally Remus laughed and Sirius felt more relieved than he thought possible.
"I can't believe you fell for that whole bondage line," Remus laughed harder, "He tried that one on me when I first came to the lab and I just rolled my eyes and -hehehe- and you bought it!"
"Okay, now that was not funny!" Serius blurted, "I have been through a lot in the past few days and I," he gave up. Remus was just laughing harder and he decided to join him.
Never let it be said that Sirius Black couldn't laugh at himself.
Chapter Twenty-four:
In Gryffindor common room, just after dinner, Ron approached Hermione as she gathered her finished work and prepared to put it away.
"Mione?"
"Yes Ron?" she did not stop shuffling her scrolls and quills, but she did glance up at him and smile.
Ron took it as the invitation to talk that it was meant to be. "Tell me you're not taking an extra potions class," he pled.
Doing a rather good impression of McGonagall she pursed her lips and looked down her nose at him. (Even though she had to look up at him she could still look down her nose doing it.) "I need to if I want to get into Advanced Potions next year," she patiently explained.
"Why would you want to do that?" Ron cried.
Slinging her book bag over her shoulder Hermione sighed, "Ron really don't you have some work to do or something?"
"Hey guys," Harry called as he joined them. Glancing around he motioned for a huddle, "I just had a great idea and we need to meet."
One by one they slipped unnoticed into their secret room. Sitting close together so that their voices wouldn't carry beyond the false wall/entrance, Harry excitedly explained his plan.
"So I was thinking we need to make sure that The Corsair's doesn't end when we graduate. It should carry on-"
"Like a secret society?!" Ron exclaimed.
Nodding vigorously Harry continued, "Yes, so we need a member of a lower year to join."
After a bit of discussion on things like the rules of induction of new members and the criteria for choosing them, it was decided to carry out Harry's plan.
"But who do we approach?" Hermione asked.
"What about the Rittenhouse kid?" Ron offered.
Harry grinned, "The albino?"
"He is not an albino, Harry." Hermione corrected, "Albino's have pink eyes and no pigment in their skin. He's pale and has blue eyes."
"Well, I was just joking Hermi," he pacified, "I don't need to get a book on the subject. For a second year he's pretty good."
"And he gets in enough trouble to qualify," Hermione interjected.
"Yah, so…" Ron waited impatiently as his two friends exchanged a glance.
Smiling Hermione held out her hand to the center of the triangle they made, "I say yes."
Her hand was joined by two others as Harry and Ron cast their votes, "Well now that we have decided to ask him to join," she paused, "How do we actually ask him?"
Ron leaned forward, "Just like all of the great secret societies do! We send him an unsigned note and have him meet us somewhere dangerous. If he shows its 'cause he wants in."
"And if he doesn't it means he has too much good sense to come?" Hermione pricked his bubble.
"Well, I like the idea of a secret meeting," Harry, ever the peacemaker, stepped in, "But I agree with Hermione that we shouldn't do anything actually dangerous."
They wrote the note and decided on how to deliver it, then quietly they exited the tiny room with out being seen.
Instead of joining the group around the fire Hermione headed for the door. Curfew was now two hours later. It was one of the privileges that students got in their Fifth year. Hermione intended to use the extra time to finish the only assignment she hadn't completed, the mystery potion still did not have a name.
As she stepped through the picture, she slipped on a quill and almost lost her balance. Someone caught her just in time though. When she turned to thank her rescuer she smiled, "Neville, thank you for catching me."
"No, it was my fault," he blushed slightly, "I dropped my bag and everything spilled out. I guess I missed the quill."
Picking up the assassin feather he smiled sheepishly and asked where she was headed.
"To the library, I can't find a potion that matches the description from class," she admitted. "I have a few more ideas, but I already spent one study hall searching and," she shrugged.
They walked together down the hal and Neville held the library door for her. "I'm having the same problem," he said. "But it doesn't seem so bad," he grinned, "if you're stumped it can't be because I'm a total washout."
Smiling to Miss Pince as they passed her desk, Hermione waited until they had left their bags, on separate tables. It was an entirely independent work class and sharing information was forbidden.
She caught Neville's sleeve though and pulled him down a book aisle.
"What?" he asked.
"Neville, what are you doing in Potions Theory?" she whispered, "You dread going to potions and now you're taking an extra class with Snape?"
"It's my grandmother Hermi," he grimaced, "She wants me to take it. I know I'm no good at potions, but," he kicked at the carpet.
Looking away Hermione tried to tell him that that wasn't what she had meant, but the words stuck in her throat. Instead she tried to sound sympathetic to his tough situation. But there is only so much that can be said about the difficulties of being raised by a rather strict grandmother because your parents are in a mental hospital, if you haven't lived it.
"I have to get started on my research now," Neville apologized while backing into the main aisle way. "I know you're just trying to be polite Hermi, I'm not going to give up yet though," he flashed a quick smile and started his own search.