Palma de Animus Chapter Five – One-Eyed Snakes

By: PhoenixStAr

Rating: PG-13

A/N: coughs sheepishly How long has it been since my last update? Months? Naw... couldn't be. I'm very, very sorry for the delay. I have no excuses to make except for the usual: life. But hey! At least I haven't abandoned it yet!

Rosie W, Shirleen, Anne-Marie, SPASH Panther, WW, captuniv, Renna, Random Artemis, 546, Kyra2, and WitchyGrrl – you all rock immensely. Thanks for the reviews! squee

Alright, here's the deal – I can't make up my mind on whether or not I like the concept of Redeemed!Percy. Same goes with the Redeemed!Draco idea. I have the general gist of the story laid out, but it works regardless of which way Percy and Draco lean. Any thoughts? Reviews and flames are, as always, welcomed.

Commence ici

The pitch-blackness of the moonless night was no match for the darkness of Percy Weasley's mood as he wrenched open the door to grudgingly greet the warm evening air. Since dinner, he and Buffy – 'his superior,' he could just imagine her reminding him – had been working through the year's lesson plans. The blonde, Percy had to admit, had an extensive knowledge of demonology and mythology, but was at a severe loss when it came to the much more practical subject of common dark arts like Boggarts and Unforgivables.

He had just been trying to rationally reason with her obstinate view of the relative harmlessness of a basilisk in comparison to some nonsense she called an 'Ascension', when the horribly gaudy grandfather clock in her room had heralded eight. It had just gotten dark; it was the perfect time to wrap up for the night, and it seemed Buffy agreed (for the first time of the night), as she instantaneously slammed the text in front of her shut (rather violently too, Percy thought). But instead of bidding him goodbye – oh no, she couldn't be so decent as to that! – she had patted his head patronizingly and sent him off to Hagrid's hut. 'Well, why don't you go see if Hagrid has any nice one-eyed snakes for us to show the children, Pacy? I'll be expecting you back here in half an hour,' she had said.

He didn't even want to begin speculating why she had started snickering after a short pause.

"Pacy," Percy muttered, in a falsetto voice. "What kind of name is Pacy?" Indignancy dripped from his voice, but no one was on the empty Hogwarts grounds to sympathize with the vicissitudes of his life. Such as it was, his only audience was the darkness that clustered around him and occupied his mind. "Ordering me about, as if I was some spineless sycophant looking to kiss her feet; sending me to a half-giant's shack which so happens to be situated right next to the Forbidden Forest, and at THIS time of night – might as well send me to my death! Absolutely negligent to my well-being –"

So enraged was he of his damoclean situation – and that Buffy had been the one to put him in it, Percy barely noticed it when he started skimming the edge of the forest. "—threatening me! Oh, the Minister will hear about this. This won't do at all. Utter impertine—ARGH!"

Had Percy been paying attention, the stench of uncountable weeks' worth of accumulated sweat and blood would have hit him long before the grotesque and bleeding clump of a person did, stumbling out from the Forest edge. However, seeing as his interests were entirely divested on the impudence of one Buffy Summers, Percy was appropriately surprised when he suddenly found himself face first on the ground, inhaling soil, and with a rather heavy weight on his back that denied him the ability to breathe.

He could, however, scream.

"ARGH!"

A wheeze. "Do… do shut up, Mr. Weas- wea- ten p-points from –"

"—Slythering, I think it was. He said I belonged with that house, or something like that – I didn't bother listening; I just reminded him that I had the power to fire him, and he shut up." The entire council building was empty, save for the Scoobies who sat in the main research room, flipping through textbooks. Faith had clamored to take the mini-Buffys out on the hunt for the night so that they could research without disruption instead of having to join in on the research.

The attempt at serious researching seemed to be all for naught though. A snicker came from the chair beside Buffy. "Are you sure his name's Weasley, not Wesley?"

"Girls!" The giggling immediately stopped. Buffy, Willow, Xander, and Dawn all looked up from the books they were supposedly researching from and looked at an irritated Giles with innocent eyes.

"Hey!" Xander protested, adjusting the patch over his eye. "My testosterone level is just fine, thank you."

Ignoring Xander, Giles traded the heavy tome in his hand for another on the shelf closest to him. "Y-you only have one hour before you have to get back to the school, Buffy. You can chat later. What were the specifics of the prophecy that Dumbledore disclosed to you?"

With an irritated sigh, Buffy pushed her chair back and got up. "Nothing. Zilch, nada, nothing. Won't tell me when it was prophesized, or by whom, or who it's about. All the info I have on Voldy is what the library has on archive of the Daily Prophet, and a lot of that is absolute bull. You'd think that someone who wanted me to help them would tell me a bit more about what they know."

"Well, hey! At least now you know how lawyers feel!" Willow pointed out helpfully. "Fred was telling me about this one client they had – a vampire – who got into trouble with this set of goblins, because she –" At the raised eyebrows coming from all directions, she grimaced slightly. "Okay, shutting up with the digressing now."

"So the main problems would be how to defeat this Voltron, right?" Dawn asked.

"No, that's their main problem." Buffy stopped pacing and sat down on a desk to face the small group. "Our main problem is to confirm whether or not that was Hellmouth energy the bad guys used to break out of the prison, and if so, how the hell they got their hands on it."

"Where's the prison?"

"Don't know."

"How do we know it's Hellmouth energy?"

Willow snapped open her laptop and pointed to the screen. "I've been charting the Hellmouth energy activity in the area ever since we got here. There's been a bit too much activity for it to be just a tiny leak. That would have to be a lot of escapage; someone's playing with the Hellmouth."

"And from what I'm hearing about the break-out," Buffy continued, "it sounds very likely that it's – oh!"

The fireplace burst into flames and flickered green for a moment before a large, black figure came tumbling out of it. His skin was pale. Chunks of hair were missing from his head; a long, freshly bleeding cut traced his cheek down to his chest, where the trail of the blade grew thicker; soil clumped in between his fingers and in his nails; a tattoo burned into his forearm; his robes were torn beyond recognition.

Dawn was the first to rush towards the fallen figure. "He's barely breathing," she whispered. She reached down to grab his wrist and feel for a pulse, but the moment she touched him, he flinched and smacked her across the face. He woke up on defensive.

"Wh-who the hell are you?" came his voice, sounding as if he had just spent endless weeks screaming. Trying to push himself off the floor, he found himself too weak and chose to glare at an indignant Dawn, who held back only by Xander. "Where am I?"

"That depends entirely on who the hell you are," Buffy replied, stepping through the commotion to bend down and meet the man. Patting her hands across his body – slightly shocked by how she could feel his ribs – she stood up when she was satisfactorily convinced that he was wandless.

Before she could begin her interrogation, the fire hurled another figure out of its flame-ridden depths; this time, the figure had red hair. Buffy recognized the pompous posture instantly.

"Pacy? Is this Dawson?"

"My name is Percy, Ms. Summers," was the exasperated reply. "And I haven't the faintest as to who Dawson might be." Dusting the ashes off his clothes, Percy reached for his wand and pointed it at the figure, muttering, "Mobilus Corpus." As he floated the figure – still irritated, if one was to judge by the growling – towards the nearest chair, Percy made introductions. "This is Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts."

Buffy instantly understood. "So they finally found you? Go get the first aid kit, Wills. Dawnie? Pillows, please, and can you set up a room, Xander?" The Scoobies had already started for their destinations before she even finished talking.

"Dumbledore told us to Floo here, and asked me to request your aid on his behalf," Percy spoke, still brushing at his robes. "He would like for you to keep Snape safe until he is fully healed. Speaking of which –" Percy paused in his brushing. "Where is this place? 'The Council'?"

"Ah, yes," Giles finally spoke. "We're a mediating council between muggles and wizards." Buffy rolled her eyes – he was cleaning his glasses again.

"Yes, a meditating council," Buffy agreed with a small smirk.

"Mediating, Buffy, not meditating."

Buffy shrugged. "S'not like I'm teaching English." Sitting down to a textbook, she missed Percy and Giles sighing simultaneously.

The giant squid of the lake ruled its domain with an iron fist – or tentacle, what have you. Whenever something foreign entered its kingdom, it was quickly ousted, without a second thought. This was the philosophical thought of the moment that reigned in Harry's mind as he sat on the green grass, leaning against a tree, next to the lake with Ron and Hermione. He was tossing bits of grass into the water, and as each piece hit the surface, a splash – too big to belong to the bit – would sprinkle water into the air and flick the piece of grass out of the water.

The thoughts in Hermione's head were of a much different mien.

"So she's a member of the Order, then," Hermione mused, sitting cross-legged.

"And not McGonagall's oddly good-looking niece either, it seems," murmured Ron, who was lying on the ground with his hands behind his head, half asleep.

Had Ron opened his eyes, he would've seen Hermione purse her lips together dangerously. "No, it doesn't seem to be so, does it?" He had, however, heard the tone of her voice.

Quickly changing the subject, Ron asked, "Any luck with the Council information?"

"No, none at all."

"Have you tried asking Percy?" Harry drew his gaze from the lake to his friends. He couldn't help but notice Ron stiffen at the mention of his brother's name. "He's her assistant, after all."

"If she's part of the Order," Ron replied, voice cold, "I don't see why she would tell Percy anything."

The trio fell silent for a moment, and the only sound came from acres away, where an impromptu Quidditch game had been called between the girls and the boys.

Hermione placed her hand on Ron's elbow and broke the tension. "What do you imagine Buffy could possibly teach in a DADA class? If I recall properly, you said she couldn't do a proper Wingardium Leviosa, even."

"No, you're right. She couldn't," Harry agreed. "But she did know how to minimize her losses by using alternative methods. Maybe she's to teach us strategy?"

"Maybe," Hermione replied, unconvinced.

Ron made no response.

A little mungled, but there you have it. Reviews, comments, flames, death threats, marriage proposals, what have you – I just like hearing from you.