Hi,
Sorry for the delay, it is quarantine again, with homeschooling eating up the rest of my free time, but I'll do my best not to neglect this story. Please rest assured I won't abandon it, but maybe uploads will slow down a bit until things get back to "normal."
Welcome Ippogrifo, good you joined!
No, HP is not mine.
We're back at Hogwarts. Tell me your thoughts! :)
Lia
Chapter 12. End of Summer
The monotony of the days at Spinner's End only varied three times before September. Three agonizing, fruitless but inevitable visits with the Dark Lord; three consequential but pointless reports at Grimmauld Place.
Since Severus was reluctant to deliver valuable information about the Department of Mysteries, and Lucius proved himself incompetent to gather more than he already knew, the Dark Lord's big plan was stuck. Whatever it was. His frustration was palpable, and Severus did not rejoice in the opportunity to experience it first hand, even if this was not unexpected. Lucius bore the brunt of it, who could not figure a way to the Hall of Prophecies, so eventually, he put up a guard he found on the Ministry's corridor, but the weeks prior to that weighed heavily on them all. Annoyingly, Severus could not learn who the unlucky fellow was. Setbacks on both sides.
His Occlumency weathered relentless testing even without the Ministry-situation. For this time, besides omitting the true extent of the Order-meetings, he also had to conceal his experimenting with his magic as well as his troubled thoughts. For there were two decidedly different issues bothering him, and he could not advance with either of them.
The first was his newfound ability to spread his magic's boundaries and their supposed connection to maybe an otherworldly creature. Parts of every day flew by with heavy training. Already perusing the theory of wandless magic, the real challenge was now to unlearn the spells. He tried to name his efforts as incantation-free or incantation-less wandless magic, but even that term didn't work. It might have described what he tried to achieve but had no reference in the Hogwarts library at all.
The concept of his training was not far from his previous endeavours with unsupported flight and easier spells he managed to disuse, freeing himself of the incantations, like the collecting charm, levitating charm, or lighting up a little flame in the air. However, it was easier on a candle. Baby-steps. He found that the more complex spells needed something more… only he could not fathom what. Understanding all spells' background while disusing them reminded him of his endeavours in spell invention but unlearning complex spells just to invent a wordless version seemed absurd.
Also, allowing his magic to course through him without attempting to tame it was a frightening experience. Yes, it opened new gates, and presumably, it was all worth it, but Severus frequently felt his magic might have its own concepts.
When he attempted a collecting charm for the second time sans-incantation, thin rays of water sprayed towards his face from all available water sources in the house, although his wand didn't move an inch. When he got over his annoyance, he had to admit that he was indeed thirsty at the moment, but his focus was good enough not to drift by this. Another time he sought to collect a leaf from a tall Wyche-elm. Still, however, his focus was precise enough – at least as precise as his cauldrons could refine it – it came down with the whole branch, and when Severus crawled out from under it, the leaf proved undividable from the log.
He realized that his experimenting had a dangerous turn and tried to avoid the complications, but he found his magic's reactions unpredictable. He had more problems if something bothered him, even if he used Occlumency. Obviously, he could not occlude from his own magic.
And this led to the second issue, which should not have bugged him. Nevertheless, it did. He hated the fact he was the one to extinguish Lennier's life, and whatever happened since seemed to reinforce his guilt. He should never have gotten into this sticky situation with Iris and her cousin, a direct consequence of killing Lennier. However, even this thought seemed unjust because he wanted to believe her since he heard her tale. Iris' cousin, bugger, Merlin! Like Iris was not bad enough on her own accord!
He wished she was honest, even more so if he remembered his first impression about her and her exceptional mind. But whatever he wished for, he could not let it lead him by the nose. Maybe he only missed the closure of their conversation. It didn't end well – as he told himself more frequently, he would have ever admitted to it. Pince disturbed them as good as in mid-sentence, and the last thing he heard from her was her possible hatred. Which shouldn't bother him, but somehow it did, and Severus was ready to go a great length to avoid finding a reason for that. His normal reaction, annoyance, came to his aid, and he was determinedly and profoundly annoyed and found great satisfaction in it.
To produce enough less-interesting memories for the Dark Lord's use and "entertainment," Severus went for long walks, further repaired the house, brewed more than once a week at Hogwarts' potions lab, but stayed at Spinner's End to get on with his own goals too. He shared the dull conjured memories in eternal fear of getting rumbled.
Proving Dumbledore's suspicions right, Voldemort indeed wanted to begin his training. The Dark Lord patiently recited the theory behind wandless magic and made Severus reach for his wand. It was nigh impossible to fake ignorance or cheat Voldemort with a falsely unsuccessful first attempt, so Severus became an esteemed pupil. The Dark Lord praised him for his quickness, but it did not stop his punishments for the less than fruitful endeavours about the Hall of Prophecies.
Lucius got a severe warning and Severus his instructions for his year at Hogwarts on their last meeting. He had to work on Dumbledore and had a strange duty to keep the Potter-boy's mind occupied. The Dark Lord wanted the boy agitated, preferably to feel anger as many a time as it was possible. A request that worried Dumbledore beyond measure a few hours later, when they met at Grimmauld before the Order gathered.
"Severus, I'm afraid we did not misjudge Voldemort's intentions." –The old wizard said in the Grimmauld Place living room while the others slowly came together down in the kitchen and enjoyed Molly Weasley's adept hospitality. "Keeping Harry's emotions raised will open his mind further to his machinations. Sirius tells me he already has frequent nightmares. I know we should stop this threat."
Severus could not help but imagine a whiny boy complaining his beast of a godfather about some foolish dreams, and somehow the features of this child resembled more James Potter's than his son's.
"I wonder why he doesn't work instead on his conceit and arrogance, sure there would be more field to progress"- he absently grumbled.
"Now, now, Severus, don't be unjust. Harry is at a vulnerable age. Emotions are flaring in a teenage boy's mind, and we both know he has reason to be angry on the world."
"You mean to whine…" – Severus replied, and for a second, he had to lament if he was at a vulnerable age when he just passed fifteen. If he was, he could not remember a soul to worry about his feelings, but also, he's never been anyone's golden boy either.
"I mean to feel lonely and insecure."
"The boy is hardly lonely with all those people seeking his precious happiness" – Severus gestured in the rough direction of the kitchen – "and insecurity has never been a Potter's trait."
"Don't mix him up with his parents, Severus. The child is an orphan, should I remind you? He doesn't have those advantages you so desperately envied from his parents."
Dumbledore did not see Severus biting on his tongue to make himself mutely receive the double blow, for the headmaster's attention turned to the pink-haired head that peeked in through the door ajar.
"May we come now?"- Tonks asked. "Remus says he will have to go back to his duties in a little more than an hour."
Severus's brows lifted as he contemplated the werewolf's duties, surely they must be most important if they bought him such a messenger, an Auror for an owl.
"I'd better not talk to him as long as Tom is playing with his mind. I'm sure you will find a solution that we can discuss at Hogwarts." - Dumbledore finished and, with that, moved to sit closer to the coffee table, leaving Snape to his own devices.
He might harrumph, but there was nothing to say. Especially not with the lot flooding the living room. This time Severus was reluctant to give up his seat for any of their sake, which earned him the gloomy place between the smelly Mundungus Fletcher and Lupin's favourite Auror. The contented werewolf sat on Tonks' other side, then Mad-Eye's disturbing daughter with Black and the Weasley-kid. Across the table, the old ex-Auror, Arthur, Molly and Hestia Jones. They left a chair empty for Shacklebolt to come.
First came the summaries, reports; all Order-members were after different Death Eaters except for the Ministry-workers, who could cover more than one. They complained they could not find Nott. Severus suggested he might have been in Normandie. From the corner of his eye, he saw Sage turning her head, but Mad-Eye also caught her move, and he seemed so angry, she didn't say a word.
They proceeded to hear Arthur Weasley presenting the tale of how the Department of Mysteries was founded, and with a near whisper, he added what could be known about the Unspeakables.
"Those wizards are supposed to carry advanced research on the true nature of magic! No one knows exactly what that means. Of course, supervised by the Ministry and under the Minister's tight control. No one should think that anyone practices dark magic in the Ministry!"
It suddenly was hard not to chuckle, but Severus did his best and only coughed.
"There's also the Hall of Prophecies close to the Brain Room. Every new piece they collect is placed there numbered after a long process of validation. I cannot access the details as nobody could, but it seems a valid prophecy is relayed by the Seer or the Receiver and no other. Of course, witnesses may be of some import, but that's all I could gather. The Hall accepts prophecies only with an undisturbed memory about giving or receiving them. The memories are also stored nearby."
"How is this supposed to help, Arthur?" – Tonks interjected in a sleepy voice. It could be no more evident she was bored out of her mind.
"Well, it means that the prophecies are severely guarded. I cannot imagine they could be in serious danger. There are the Unspeakables, who I honestly would never dare to cross, and a complex alarm-system throughout the Ministry. Also, there is one special guarding at the Department and one just for the Hall."
"And why would He-who-shall-not-be-named get to these prophecies anyway?" – Lupin asked.
"I'm afraid he is after only one of them. The one that foretold his fall some fifteen years ago." Dumbledore looked at them, and most gasped.
"Can he get through the wards?" – Black asked, not without practicality. Not that he had any chance to do something about it, Severus thought.
"That is the only important question." Mad-Eye looked at Black with evident approval. "Whatever he wants, I want that safe."
"As Arthur already told you, it is guarded." Shacklebolt's deep baritone assured. "No one may set foot there."
"But what if Lucius Malfoy finds a way?" – The Weasley-kid pushed on. Severus bet he and all his siblings were soaked in distaste for the Malfoys in their mother's womb.
"He has not." – he calmly told him. "All his efforts broke when he tried to curse one of the Unspeakables. That was a failure the Dark Lord deemed miserable. He cursed someone on a corridor nearby since, but I could not discern who received his Imperius."
"Sure he did!" – Mad-Eye exclaimed. "I am yet to see a Death Eater giving up on an Imperius. Albus, I say, if you want to keep those things safe, we should double our efforts."
So they went on scheduling an even stricter plan of guarding before the Department of Mysteries' corridors. Only Ministry-workers could take part, so Severus' thoughts drifted away. He was not the only one. Mundungus seemed to carefully count the crystals on the chandelier, Lupin was consumed in a whispered conversation with his Auror, and Sage Moody eyed Severus with disturbing intensity. He decided to test the waters.
"Beauxbaton," – he nodded to her, but the witch swiftly turned her face away. It was a slight bad enough without Black flashing a full grin that showed all his teeth in triumph. All Severus could do was to stop himself before he hexed the dog's chair-posts to break.
"It is done then,"- he determined with a peculiar twist in his stomach. If she was petty enough to hold a grudge for as little as him prescribing a lotion, he could find enough reason for animosity too.
By the time the schedule was ready, most got restless. Lupin circumnavigated the table to enter in silent conversation with Moody and Dumbledore. Tonks sank into a discussion about some household matters with Molly, and Mundungus sat closer to Black to ask about the chandelier. Bill Weasley dutifully nursed the scroll with the schedule details, so Severus escaped to the hearth.
Beauxbaton didn't as much as looked up when he passed by her. Damnable witch. She must have consumed all of Black's tales about his dealings and the so-called heroism of the dogs' youth. If this was what she needed, she could find a low company to her liking without ever setting foot in France again. Foolish woman! But what could someone expect from an offspring of Mad-Eye?
As soon as Dumbledore was ready to look up from his conversations, Severus asked for permission to leave with a questioning glance and a raised eyebrow. On the Headmaster's nod, he was out of the room. Still silently seething, he Apparated from the entrance this time, not in the least minding that he woke the foul-mouthed portrait.
Although Spinner's End had never been a happy place, this time, it meant the comfort of his experiments. On the last day before the school year began, Severus decided to celebrate his relative solitude's luxury in these past few weeks. Letting himself get overwhelmed with a complex mix of curiosity, thirst for knowledge, and the joy of his own abilities was the closest thing to happiness he knew. Even as a child, fabricating his own spells, first correcting, then creating potions, filled him with satisfaction, something he rarely felt in any other fields of his life. He felt stronger and more self-assured whenever he invented something or found an answer.
The truth was, he missed this in these past years. His all-devouring grief and repentance, and later his sense of duty to guard and preserve, occupied his time just like his thoughts in the first years of his adulthood. In potions, he still had his occasional fun, researching to his heart's contentment, but throwing himself into, well, "playing" with experimental magic was something else like returning to childhood and to the better parts of it.
He experimented with disusing the collecting charm again, with the elm tree's leaves, the lath on his fence; he levitated sticks and leaves, charmed small flames without incantation. None of those were a big deal, but success in the new method, not to call it what it was, fun and games. All until he fell into bed exhausted.
The next moment, he was in Grimmauld's living room, with Moody's daughter calling him to duel. He looked up the wall by reflex, but no sign forbade them to proceed. As he pulled his wand, he felt the place curiously empty. Only a pair of red eyes watched them from behind the heavy curtains. The clash of their first curses created magnificent firework.
He countered her Stupefy with ease, but then to his astonishment, the witch stepped back and made a long and elaborate wand move, something he'd never seen the like, and Iris climbed down from the tip of her wand. Severus was torn if he should cast Impedimenta or Protego, and using his hesitation, the demonic witch threw herself in his arms and kissed him while someone clapped behind the curtains.
Repulsed, he tried to push Iris away, only to face Voldemort approaching triumphantly, and Severus knew this time he would not find a way to escape. His arms were numb.
Knowing there's no use to beg, he eventually searched Sage Moody's eyes whether she explained why this had to be or at least offered another peek into her scented, humming mind before the end arrives. But she only nodded with a small, understanding smile, and her form shifted to the entity wearing Lilly's features in his vision.
The creature stepped closer and extricated the wand from his numb right hand – only to push it down his throat. It smelled like wood and tasted like something familiar, and he could not recall. Iris's offensive presence made it impossible to think about something he liked. He tried to push her away, still wary of the Dark Lord, but his hands wouldn't move.
Desperately, Severus decided to let his magic roam free and wished her to evaporate.
The sound of explosions startled the creation, and she vanished from his side. Severus looked around and saw Sage Moody sitting before the hearth, pointing her finger somewhere above him. The sounds of detonations did not stop. They were threatening and coming from somewhere close… way too close…
Severus woke with a start and rolled off his bed. The ceiling was hanging above his pillow, pipes, strings, and shingle dangling in the eddying brick powder. Judging by the amount of dust, it must have blown mere seconds before.
Without a thought, he reached for his wand, which lay peacefully on the nightstand where he left it. He rushed out of the house and checked all the wards. Everything was intact. He searched the house, but no-one intruded. Finally, he braved the sight of his bedroom again. The dangling ceiling above his bed did not change a bit.
"Reparo," – he said out loud, and the room soon returned to its normal state, only his breathing came shorter than usual.
Severus leaned on the doorframe. It was clear he had an exceptionally realistic nightmare. He still remembered the most of it. In his dream, he let his magic roam free to attack. Did he really explode the ceiling above his own head?
Suddenly the proximity of a wizard like Dumbledore seemed beckoning. With any luck, he would not need the Headmaster's help to pull him out from under the ruins of the castle if he accidentally exploded the dungeons, but it would be comforting to know he was available for the job if needed.
Severus imagined himself lying back on the bed and staring up the freshly repaired ceiling, then walked down to the living room and flopped into his armchair. He collected his belongings with the first light and unceremoniously Apparated to Hogwarts.
By noon he re-established himself in his quarters. Shelves dusted, potions-ingredients in alphabetical order, his private rooms rigorously tidied, he was ready for a school year.
However, he was not prepared to socialize and the idle chat in the Great Hall, so Severus called for the house-elf and asked for sandwiches. The creature looked different. And he wore clothes!
"You're not Reaggy" – he stopped the elf before he could put down the tray. His voice sounded hoarse with disuse.
"N-no, professor,"- the small creature tried to bow – "Reaggy was old and sickly for years. He sadly passed away."
Strangely Severus felt a pang of sadness; he never realized he grew attached to that elf. "When?" – He demanded. "I never noticed he had troubles."
"Oh, Professor, Reaggy would be proud indeed! Reaggy loved serving Professor Snape. It's an easy job!" The houself tilted his ears, disconcerted. "Reaggy died more than a week ago. Headmaster Dumbledore let him rest by the Forbidden Forest where his elders lay. Reaggy's whole life was serving in Hogwarts. Headmaster Dumbledore is good wizard letting."
"Are you to take his place in the dungeons?"
"N-no, Professor, no, Dobby has duties. Other duties." The houself suddenly looked troubled. "Chubby is to come serve Professor Snape; no one was brave enough to serve Slytherin..."
Severus watched the creature struggling with himself; it was hard to decide if he was bothered by saying too much or not enough. However, serving Slytherin should not be up to debate.
"Why would it be so hard to serve down here?"
The elf looked around in great agitation.
"Not, not hard, Professor, s-scary. Student's reputation… Dobby should say no bad… House-elves are good when no one sees, but students curious. Called Reaggy to have fun."
Driven by a memory about Bellatrix having "fun" with a house-elf, Severus decided quickly. "Tell this Chubby I want to know every time about students trying to have "fun." In detail." – On second thought, he added, "And tell him I want to see him before the students arrive."
The houself looked amazed. "Professor Snape is gracious. Reaggy liked him. Chubby will be beside himself!"
Impatient with the praise, he sent the elf away. The pop behind the houself did not yet die away when McGonagall knocked on the half-opened door.
"Are you available, Severus? I heard noises."
"Only a house-elf" – he gestured to the tray. "Would you come in?"
The elderly witch walked in with a wistful look towards the sandwiches.
"Oh, the house-elves! Last year I had a hard time with them. Sometimes I think students need additional courses in inter-species courtesy." She accepted the offered seat with a sigh and another longing look on the tray.
"You may join and elaborate how exactly your precious Gryffindors failed to prove your point on their absolute perfection…"
"I wish!" – Minerva sighed again. "Only to make it clear, I've never said they were perfect but still better than others. However, this is not the point. Severus, you have no idea how your reputation serves you evading company!"
"My reputation?"
"Oh, come now, you surely cannot take offence. You've never been the "life of the party," so to speak…" – She took a deep breath. "I came to inform you that Albus decided to skip the usual staff meeting this year. We all have our afternoons for ourselves until the students arrive."
Severus raised both eyebrows. "How peculiar for him to give up on such an occasion to show off his unique sense of humour!"
"Maybe he is dissatisfied with the prospective audience." – Minerva pulled her lips tight. "Dolores Umbridge arrived yesterday,"- she announced. "That gave us ample time already to practice our silence."
"We already knew it would be difficult." Severus tried to brush off the complaint, but McGonagall pushed her lips even tighter until they formed a dangerously narrow line.
"You will meet her soon enough," – she told him as she stood. "Words fail to convey what she is. Enjoy your solitude while you can, Severus; not everyone is so lucky. And this year will be harder and longer than you could possibly imagine, mark my words!" – She added with a departing look towards the tray.
"Duly noted." – Severus accepted her warning but preoccupied with a lump in his throat. "What about the other colleague?"
"Ah, the History of Magic?" Minerva turned back from the door. "That one seems lovely enough. Not that Dolores would present any competition in that regard…" – she added absently.
Severus snorted when the door closed. "Lovely" was far not the word he would use for that black witch! Although the only real sign of her darkness was in her reputation, which was probably still not worse than his if Minerva's remark was to go by. He drowned his dissatisfaction into a mouthful of sandwich and hid in his quarters until the evening fell.
The house-elf came with a loud pop waking him from his slumbering in his favourite armchair.
"Chubby is sorry to disturb Professor Snape. Dobby, the house-elf, said Professor Snape wished to see Chubby."
Severus rubbed his eyes to get to his senses. His restless night must have taken a toll. "Yes, I wanted to see you so that I can recognize you later. Did that Dobby convey my message?"
Chubby stepped from one leg to the other in obvious discomfort, his ears tilting like radar. "Yes, Professor Snape, Chubby apologize. Dobby was a bad elf to complain Professor on his own House. A very, very bad elf! Chubby is ashamed to serve with him."
"I'm glad he did," – he told the suspicious elf dryly. "Now I order you to report every atrocity you suffer in this House. I want you to come to me in the evenings and account for all that happened in the Slytherin House as you have seen it. Especially whenever a student orders you to hurt yourself, entraps you or otherwise makes you a target of "fun." Did I make myself clear?"
The house-elf only stood there hugging his left ear – probably for comfort. Seconds passed before he remembered himself and said in a tiny voice: "Yes, Professor Snape was very clear."
It occurred to Severus that Reaggy would have known that the conversation was over, but this fellow was just starting on, hugging that bloody ear of his, until he impatiently asked.
"Do you have questions?"
Now the elf's jaw dropped with open amazement.
"Chubby may ask?"
"You already did," – Snape pulled his mouth. "Now, what is it?"
"Professor Snape wants Chubby to tell if someone hurting Chubby," – the elf restarted his strange dance from one leg to the other but never let his ear go. "Why would Professor protect an elf?"
Nothing was farther from Severus than to elaborate on the psychological implications that torturing a weak and servile creature would suggest.
"Your place is to report, not to understand." His tone finally seemed to put the house-elf at ease. "While I am responsible for this House, I will know about my students' dealings."
"Professor Snape will know everything Chubby sees and hears!" The house-elf bowed to his toes, and on Snape's wave of a hand, he disappeared.
The noisy buzz on the corridors already announced the students' arrival. Hence, Severus Snape geared up in his teaching robes and strengthened his Occlumency shields, this time not only to keep his thoughts to himself but also to keep the affront of turbulent minds all over him at bay. It was a summer of hardship, and he did not need the offsetting emotions and unruly thoughts these immature minds constantly relayed to mess with his fragile calm.
Sitting down at his usual place by the Head table, he greeted Vector, Sinistra and Sprout. Pomona promptly turned towards him with a welcoming smile, but before she could utter a word, a very agitated Flitwick joined them.
Snape looked about to find the source of the otherwise jolly wizard's discomfort and saw Dumbledore escorting an outrageously dressed, short witch to the table. She smiled and chatted like the castle was her own. She took the seat the Headmaster pulled for her without so much as to thank it. Finally, she refused to greet anyone before others greeted her.
This Pomona reluctantly did for her, even offered introductions in the Headmaster's stead. Snape peeked at Dumbledore, but the old wizard had already worn that mask of deliberate nonchalance he identified as his shield against life's nuisances. The table fell into eerie silence even with the addition of Trelawney, who was uncommonly quiet this time, only kept mumbling to herself and rarely risking a glance toward the witch, now officially known as Dolores Umbridge. Severus reminded himself of Minerva's words that the short day and night has already established a general attitude against her since her arrival.
Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank came last with Sage Moody, and it was surprisingly challenging not to jerk his head to have a look at the disturbing witch who had him blow his ceiling even in his dream. Severus quickly pushed the thought back to the box he carefully placed it.
She sat down with a swish of a blue skirt next to Pomona. For Snape, that Beauxbatons- blue skirt glared out of the sea of black Hogwarts uniforms almost as much as the menacing short witch's eye-hurting pink cardigan.
The Great Hall filled with students, and he turned his attention to the Slytherin table. Some of the children greeted him, nodding. Malfoy's son openly smiled before he turned his knowing eyes to the ministry-witch. Most of his once-housemates' kids eyed the woman with expectation and distrust. Hence, Severus had to realize these children came this year to Hogwarts with an expectation to have the fun Lucius was so much anticipating. It meant that the narrow line he had to walk became thinner. Slytherin had the knowledge about the Dark Lord's return and the plans to support the Ministry against Dumbledore. If not all of them thought so yet, that would change before midnight.
Minerva entered with the first years and the Sorting Hat. The piggy-pink ministry-witch impatiently thumped the table with her fingers. She earned Dumbledore's eyes narrowing behind his glasses - a tell-tale sign of disapproval, but no one gave a thought. Severus only gave attention to the Hat's babblings when he saw Minerva's curious expression. The school received a clear warning, and he wondered if the Headmaster had anything to with that.
The house-ghosts made their ways among the student tables, probably to explain the implications. The fact no one even looked at him from his House table proved that they were baffled as one body. Severus knew that no authority could possibly make these kids cooperate as long as the other Houses, like all-mighty Gryffindor, shunned them as outcasts. The last-minute decisions like offering house-points for rule-breaking Gryffindors did nothing to build trust even in those hearts who were not raised in distrust against other houses. Why did Dumbledore do that? Severus assured his students with a glance that he would visit after dinner and discuss their thoughts. It was also ensuring their patience.
Some clapping was in order to welcome new students, and Dumbledore opened the feast.
The houselves outdid themselves, meaning everything was too spicy, too creamy or too sweet to Severus' taste – more time to give an ear to conversation along the table. The exchange between Piggy-pink and Minerva began innocently enough.
"Can you explain this posh candle use? I expected it long out-dated" – most looked over to see the ministry-witch to make sure the girlish giggle, in fact, came from her throat. It did, and she pointed to the Enchanted Ceiling.
"Do you mean the floating candles?" Minerva replied with patience. "I assume they are to celebrate the occasion.
"Whatever can you mean? Surely these little children are reluctant to come back to school!"
"You think?" Minerva didn't even try to rule her irritation from her voice. "I experienced the contrary. Most are happy to reacquaint with their friends, and Hogwarts welcomes its students."
The pink witch giggled. "Surely, you jest! School is not about making friends. This cannot be the approach the Ministry encourages. Mind, not even you. And to claim a building having feelings is outright hilarious!"
"So, what in your opinion is the school about?" McGonagall endeavoured to keep her temper.
"Learning order and their place in life, of course." The former giggling gave place to a wide toad-like smile. "Our society needs these little children to understand and reproduce their places in the world."
Minerva gave no reply, and after a short pause, Piggy-pink went on. "I'm afraid these floating…"- she giggled – "old-fashioned candles plant the misconception that they have the right to be celebrated without reason. It also seems terribly dangerous for the adult eye, if you don't mind me saying."
Minerva's voice trembled with irritation as she asked: "What would make them dangerous?"
"Well, the hot wax, of course! We cannot have this old school go down in flames, now, can we?"
Severus had to swallow a smirk when he looked up at Minerva's face. Every first-years knew what it meant when she pressed her lips in such a thin line. Old McGonagall exercised all measures of patience, but it was uncertain how long she would keep it this way.
"You don't need to worry," – she managed in a light enough tone, "The candles are enchanted as they have always been. You might rest easier if you re-read Hogwarts, a History."
Severus chanced a quick look around the table. Flitwick buried his face in his palms; Pomona made a concentrated effort to distract herself by keeping her mouth always full, thus preventing even the chance of uttering a word.
"Oh, I never trusted Charms!" – Pink waved away a whole branch of magic with a single move of her heavily adorned hand.
Flitwick let his hands fall in his lap and stared up at Dumbledore with disbelief; Pomona quickly offered him some pumpkin juice. Sinistra and Vector helped each other by entering a quiet conversation about trigonometry. Grubby-Plank watched a most attractive spot on the wall in the other direction, and Trelawny… Trelawny acted like herself, with all the awkwardness and slight insanity he got used to seeing from her, only this time in complete silence. The only one who listened with a seemingly polite and encouraging smile was Beauxbaton. Severus could not help but stared at her only to realize her eyes never showed a darker shade. She was heavily occluding, keeping her thoughts and feelings under locks. He knew he kept calm only by doing the same.
The piggy-pink witch went on torturing Minerva about unnecessary luxuries offered for the children ("You mean such as food?!"), making remarks on Gryffindor table-manner (How would you ban talking during meals?), until McGonagall resolved to keep silent after a final loud gasp. The ministry-witch visibly searched for her next prey, but by the time she chose Flitwick, Dumbledore pushed himself from the table and began to speak.
After welcoming old and new students and the usual announcements, he introduced the new staff members, causing some havoc along the tables. Severus remembered their initial shock with Minerva when discussing Binn's temporary leave and felt his students' bewilderment rewarding. Until a strange cough called for attention, and he watched with as much astonishment as anyone else, the piggy-pink witch emerge and push Dumbledore aside! Was she to give a speech!?
What came next was a most revealing statement of the Ministry's educational program and a detailed explanation of every little sparkle of joy Severus saw in Lucius' eyes in the summer. They were all doomed. Hogwarts, as he knew it, was over. Dumbledore was as good as sacked already. But could she do it? Suddenly the scene lost the quality to amuse.
After Dumbledore dismissed the students, Pomona's kind support towards McGonagall did not escape Severus' notice. She invited her friend to the greenhouse as the Pink Peril giggled away. Caught in the moment, he nearly missed the greeting thrown towards him.
"Beauxbaton," – he replied with a short nod and hurried away. This night became disturbing enough without her provoking presence, and Severus had a lot to discuss in Slytherin House.
Proving his priorities were right, the Common Room was in an uproar. The buzz hushed as the prefects disciplined the younger, and Snape began by welcoming the first years, appointed tutors for all of them, and asked after his seventh year NEWT students' summer.
Soon most of the older Slytherins took part in the conversation, taking their places facing the hearth, the traditional spot their Head of House occupied whenever he joined them. Naturally, all were eager to discuss the ministry-witch and their opinions, and careful jokes ate up half of an hour.
Lucius prepared his son well; with Draco's lead, Slytherin was ready to throw Dumbledore's rule over. Dreams of a just era were recited where no Slytherins would suffer the prejudice against the House, and other frequented thoughts arose. Severus was quick to mark these as wishful thinking and called attention to the OWLs and NEWTs. He argued that the Ministry this time seemed to be in control; thus, leaving politics for the adults in an OWL year sounded like a piece of sound advice.
When they asked him about Professor Moody the second, as they called her, he grudgingly suggested they wait and see. Although he didn't have his hopes high for the witch, most Slytherins were biased against the Auror's daughter.
After he sufficiently calmed the young nerves and congratulated the new prefects, Severus finally headed for his own quarters, knowing it was yet a job well-done, when he heard a muffled cry of pain and less-subdued cursing. It was only too easy to recognize the voice.
The stairs that led to the dungeons from the Entrance Hall also continued upwards to the second floor. The sounds came from that direction, and hearing Sage Moody's usually melodic contralto failing felt unnaturally good. There was a step with the bad habit of disappearing! Could it be? Torn between possible amusement and leaving her to the humiliation to make her shout for help, Snape halted for a second. The prospect of free amusement rapidly won out; he just had to see the witch stuck! Oh, if only!
Severus rushed up the stairs, and Hogwarts finally rewarded him with a scene he wished to behold. She was stuck indeed, to the knee, struggling in vain, face contorted with annoyance and pain, any attempt to climb out obviously futile. Yes!
Severus leaned on the wall with hands in his pocket. "You all right there, Beauxbaton?"
Her gasp when she glanced up and saw him paid a little back for all her disturbing nature and the slights he received. A little.
"Did you come to mock me, or will you help?"
Severus didn't even move. "Ask me!"
The witch stared at him, confused. "I just did. Do you want it in black and white?"
Severus pushed himself from the wall and turned to leave, but eventually, he thought better and leaned closer to the witch. "Ask politely," – he advised.
Her face became a marvellous mirror of her warring emotions, and Severus took in her pride, her outrage, her agony and her sense of humiliation with unmasked satisfaction. Pity, her common sense won out relatively quickly and gulping her pride, she looked straight into his face.
"In regard to the situation," – she motioned toward her ankle-length Beauxbatons-blue skirt tugged in the step with her leg, threatening to tear rather sooner than later and already showing much more than the witch presumably would ever intend. "I am asking you … nicely – she added – and politely… to… - she sighed heavily and shook her head. "If you would be as kind as to…" – she tried and failed again. If he concentrated, he could also guess her choice of omitted curses. – "Would you please just help me out?" – She finished in a rush. "Please." – She pressed the word out with evident effort.
Thoroughly entertained, Severus stepped closer and offered a hand. To his surprise, the witch seemed reluctant to accept it at first. He had to step on the two trustworthy steps on each side of the misbehaving one and let the witch hold onto his shoulder to pull her by the waist. No matter the hardship, the earlier entertainment was highly worth it all.
However, even before she was out, their situation suddenly lost all levity. Severus could never prepare himself for the peace of mind her proximity ensued, like last time when he had her near after searching her mind, or when he was desperate for calm, and her impression was the best he could grab to. His troubles faded in a wink as soon as he touched her and looked into her eyes. He longed to smell that earthy, rainy scent again but could only sense the familiar mix of herbs on her skin. Finally, she thanked him in a small voice, and she broke eye-contact, causing Severus to feel like an idiot instantly.
Her haste to let him go could only match his own, and Severus rushed back towards his safe quarters, hearing her steps quickly ascending the stairs to the other way.
i A humbly intended tribute to Emma Thompson, even if that magnificent scene didn't make it into the movie