Alchemy
Albus Dumbledore was starting to regret some of his decisions of the last fortnight. Stealing the dragon's blood in the first place had been his original mistake. He would have bought the blood himself if he could have afforded it- but he just couldn't this year. Besides that, you needed to be of age to buy it, so it would have been twice as hard to get hold of. Perhaps he could blame his boredom in Potions class the week before that which had made him daydream through the lesson, then it would be at least partly Professor Jigger's fault.
He quickly decided he shouldn't voice that particular thought to Jigger himself, who was standing before him and who looked like he might explode at any moment.
Albus emerged quickly from behind the desk he had been working at, giving a cursory check to the table to ensure nothing was going to blow up imminently.
"Good afternoon, Professor." Albus said congenially.
Jigger glared at him from where he was standing by the wall, just inside the room. Albus wondered how long the man had been watching and just how much trouble he was in.
Albus couldn't think of anything to say to the man which wouldn't make him angrier, so stayed silent for a long minute while the professor took measured breaths. They were at an impasse.
There was the sound of running feet in the corridor and two Gryffindors appeared in the doorway- a boy and a girl, severely out of breath, they couldn't see the irate professor from where he was hidden.
"Albus – thank Agrippa. We ran into some Ravenclaws and they said Jigger's on the warpath- he's been sent up by the elves." Kijai, the girl, panted, looking confused by Albus's wide eyes, and frantic hand motions
"Said he's in a right state!" Elphias added, "Why're you waving like your wand's exploded?"
Albus shut his eyes and grimaced. His friends realised something was wrong and came into the room, concerned. Elphias was the first to spot the professor right beside the door and he yelped in surprise, leaping backwards. Kijai spotted him a split second later and shouted out something which Albus was 90% certain was a Swahili swear word.
"Detention, Mr Doge, Miss Sabiti. This Saturday. I strongly suggest you make yourselves scarce."
The pair barely managed an apology before stumbling over themselves to get out of there.
Albus smiled a little at his friends' enthusiasm. He was glad they'd tried to warn him and it was a shame that they had been caught because of it.
Jigger turned back to look at the fourth year Gryffindor, and Albus's smile vanished guiltily.
"I thought we had dealt with this particular brand of nonsense before the Solstice. Why is it always you Dumbledore?"
"I really couldn't say, Sir." Albus tried to appear contrite, but it didn't seem to have any effect on the dour potions master.
Jigger folded his arms over his chest. "You will tidy this mess up and return all of it to the potions classroom. You have seven minutes. I suggest you get to it!" The professor turned on his heel and left without another word.
Albus sighed at the mess on the table. Seven minutes was awfully specific, and no time at all if you considered the time it would take to descend to the dungeons. He 'got to it'.
Six and a half minutes later, Albus knocked on the door to the Potion's classroom, his arms full of jars of blood, glass tubes and his notes. He would have preferred to not bring the notes in case of confiscation, but there was very little he could do about it. He couldn't very well leave them in the classroom unattended.
The door opened and there was an 'enter' called from inside. Jigger was busy cleaning the board of notes from his seventh year alchemy class. Albus recognised them from studying he had done last term in the library.
Albus started clearing away the things he had borrowed from the room, putting the glass pipes to one side so he could clean them at some future time. He doubted Jigger had the patience to wait for him to do it now. When he was done, Albus came to stand at a facsimile of attention at the front of the classroom, waiting patiently and looking as smart as he could manage so as to not arise any more ire from the professor.
After a minute of unhurried tidying, Jigger tuned to look at Albus.
"Well, Boy? Anything to say for yourself?"
"Not really, Sir. I am sorry to put you out like this."
"Not as sorry as you are going to be, Dumbledore."
The two of them looked at each other over the professor's desk.
"Well? Give me an account of yourself, then."
Albus scrambled mentally for a moment. It was a difficult question. To lie, or not to lie? The Ravenclaw head obviously had some idea of what had been going on, even if he didn't have the full picture. But would the man know if Albus lied, or on the other side of that coin, would he be angrier if he had the truth?
Proceed with caution, Albus thought to himself, start with the basics and then only be guilty of omission. "I have been… interested in dragon's blood for some time now, Professor. The blood of such a highly magical creature has to have at least some effects beyond the one we use it for in preparing ingredients. I had a project for Arithmancy – I'm a little bit ahead of the coursework, you see- to look into divining the properties of potions ingredients."
Jigger glared impatiently.
"Yes, well, I got rather more results than I expected and wanted to experiment? A little."
The glare turned angry and Jigger's nostrils flared. Albus was strongly reminded of a dragon which had been brought in for Care of Magical Creatures last year. The dragon had done the same thing shortly before setting fire to the Creatures Professor.
"So I borrowed a little to experiment. I couldn't think of another way to do it, Sir."
"Sit down." Jigger spat. Albus did, reflexively, on one of the tall stools which were provided as seats for when the professor was lecturing. This one had obviously been placed at the front of the class for his personal use. Jigger started to pace, his great bushy eyebrows drawn together.
"As often as you have tried to prove otherwise, Dumbledore, I had always been of the impression that you retained some semblance of a spark of intellect. Indeed, even Professor Pranton has mentioned her surprise that you were not sorted into my house. Finally, you have dispelled that idea."
"Sir?"
"Only Gryffindors and Slytherins come up with such foolhardy plans as this." Jigger looked at him like he was a particularly disgusting flobberworm. "And only Gryffindors go through with them and get caught."
Albus grimaced, there was a truth in that. And somehow Albus seemed to get caught more than any other Gryffindor.
"Allow me to walk you through this- as I might for a first year Gryffindor fool." Jigger paused in his pacing to tower over Albus, before starting again.
"You decided, in your infinite wisdom, that you wanted to investigate the potential uses of dragon's blood through arithmancy. Fine – a bit beyond most fourth years, but ambitious and acceptable. After – and it better have been after – you did your calculations, you decided you wanted to test these, so you stole some from my private stores. Yes?"
Jigger whirled on Albus who ground out an embarrassed, 'yes, sir'.
"After taking this Class Four potions ingredient, after hours and out of bounds. You set up a room to be used as a laboratory, without any appropriate safety features. Yes?"
"My calculations said it would be sa… uh, yes, sir." Albus ducked his head.
"Oh, your calculations?" Jigger sneered. "The calculations of a fourth year arithmancy student? Unchecked. Unreliable. Unsafe."
"Yes, Sir."
"Keeping said Class Four potions ingredient in an unlocked and unwarded room, you proceeded to experiment with it for a full two weeks, without confessing to removing it from my stores, despite my repeated appeals for its return."
"Sir."
"And do you happen to know why the elves fetched me, Mr Dumbledore?" Jiggers voice was deceptively mild. Albus really had no clue.
"No, Professor." He shook his head cautiously.
"They alleged you had taken some of the said dragons' blood and had applied it to you face."
Albus gulped.
"'Now, surely', I said to myself." Jigger said in a carefully mocking voice, "'Surely, the boy cannot be that stupid? That reckless? Have that much of a death wish.'" Jigger frowned down his nose at Albus. "Can he?"
Albus felt slightly sick. Jigger's lecture just now was as long as the man had ever spoken to him at once. He wished it was over and Jigger would just put him in detention already.
"I may have put a little bit of the blood on my skin…" Albus flinched back from the fury in Jiggers face and was forced to tip his stool back down onto all four legs. "I promise it was as safe as I could manage-"
Jigger looked unconvinced. He strode over to his demonstration brewing station, to the side of his desk, rummaging for something.
Albus was left with his heart beating twice as fast from his shock at almost falling from his perch. It sounded to Albus like Jigger knew absolutely everything. Albus swore mentally. He added the house elves to his mental list of people to blame, but just as quickly removed them again. They had only been doing their best to help after all. Albus was lucky in a way that they hadn't fetched the school mediwitch, or the headmaster.
"Are you injured?" Jigger asked impatiently.
"No, Sir. It just washes off skin, unless it's still hot. My results were very clear on that. It just has to be cooled first with a charm."
When Jigger walked back over to him, Albus's heart, which had just been starting to return to its normal rate, began pounding again. Jigger spotted the boy's eyes which had widened in panic.
"I would like to say I am sorry, Dumbledore, but that would be a lie. You know you deserve this."
Jigger had in his hands his potion's stirring rod. It was long and thin and had been doubling as the Professor's favourite cane for the past two decades. Contrary to the way the man usually held it in class – arms crossed and the polished, wooden rod tapping the opposite arm- the man's arms were by his side, the stirrer moving wildly, and seeming much longer.
Jigger looked determined, "Remove your outer robe and leave it with your wand. Then bend over the desk, Dumbledore. Let us get this over with."
Jigger removed his own weekend outer robes, leaving him in a smart shirt and trousers. He rolled up his sleeves to give his arms room to move.
Albus stood cautiously. Somehow in all his four years, he had never managed to earn himself a caning. All the way back in first year, his previous head of house, and charms teacher, Professor McDougal, had used the school strap on his hands for starting a fight in class with a Hufflepuff boy. He had been one fierce Scotsman, and Albus had done his level best to avoid the corporal side of school punishments ever since. It wasn't a rare punishment to be doled out, although the Ravenclaws and Slytherins got the worst deal due to their housemasters' fondness for the method. Anyone could run afoul of the caretaker however, and there were those idiots like Albus from the other houses who picked personal fights with Jigger and Diggory.
"Get a move on boy!" jolted Albus out of his thoughts and he started to remove his school robe without thinking about it.
"We are doing this because you had the audacity to steal from me, and could not muster any repentance or honesty. And because somehow you got it into your fool head that dangerous substances exist for you to paint your face with."
"Sorry, Sir."
Jigger tapped the makeshift cane on his desk in response, indicating that Albus should get into position.
"You will not rise until I give you leave and I will not accept any foul language. Is there anything in your trouser pockets?"
"No." Albus said tightly, barely remembering to add, "Sir."
"Very well, be prepared for nine of the best."
Albus bent over the Professor's desk, reaching across it with his long arms to take hold of the far side. There was a distinctly polished appearance to the spots his hands rested in. There had obviously been many before him in the same position.
"Nine?" Albus said, mostly to himself. Usual punishment was either six or twelve, depending on the seriousness of the rule-breaking. Honestly he had been kind of mentally anticipating twelve since Jigger had walked into his lab upstairs.
Thwack!
Albus grunted in surprise, he hadn't noticed the professor move. Merlin that hurt.
"Of the very best." Jigger promised. There was a long moment, followed by the sound of the man moving.
Thwack!
Albus tightened his fingers around the far edge of the desk, to stop himself from jerking to his feet.
Thwack!
Crack!
'Four' Albus thought, taking a deep breath and trying to not tense up too much. Jigger was definitely delivering his best.
Thwack!
"Argh," Albus groaned through his teeth.
Thwack!
Albus dropped his head to rest it on his forearms for a moment, and the Professor waited for him to compose himself.
"If you had returned the dragons blood, or admitted to me you had taken it, we would have stopped here." Jigger informed Albus, who groaned out something with 'Sir' at the end.
Crack!
Albus groaned, that one had hit him across the back of his legs, and he brought his head back up, and forced his feet flat, offering a less painful target.
Crack!
"Argh." There was an unexpectedly long pause, and Albus hoped for a moment that he had miscounted, but was rudely disabused of this by a final-
Thwack!
Jigger retreated and there was an audible click which could be heard over Albus's loud breathing as the cane was put down somewhere. Albus stayed unmoving for about a minute, simply registering the pain, as Jigger wandered around to his seat at the other side of the desk and started to fill out the punishment book and a detention slip. He handed the latter across the desk to Albus, who accepted it with a reaching hand, before pushing himself back up to his feet, hissing as his backside was irritated by his clothes.
He glanced down at the slip in his hand, three detentions. It was probably the best he could have expected. They were all with Jigger, which seemed fair, and for the next three nights. He hoped he wouldn't have to sit down…or move too much…
"Feel free to leave, Dumbledore."
Albus turned to his robes, shaking them out and tying them on deftly. He hoped they would hide his stupid walking on his way back to Gryffindor Tower. Privately he bemoaned the thought of the eight flights of stairs.
He gathered up his notes, which were still sitting on the table. With them in hand, he looked back at the potions professor, already distracted by his marking. Albus cast a quick copy charm on them. He walked back to the desk, unsure whether this was an intelligent idea, and hoping the man wouldn't add those final three cane strokes for his audacity.
"How many uses are there for Dragon blood, Professor?"
Jigger looked up at him, irritated and exasperated.
"I believe there are two, Mr Dumbledore, as you well know. As there have been for centuries."
Albus grinned and put a neat copy of his notes on the professor's desk, where Albus himself had been a minute ago. Leaving them unobtrusive and out of the way.
"I'm at five right now, Sir."
Jigger's face didn't betray any emotion as he regarded Albus. The boy felt like he might be coming off as slightly too cocky for someone who had just been beaten and thought it was probably time to make an escape. He should really go be nice to Elphy and Kijai for their attempt to help earlier.
"Sorry again, Professor. Good afternoon."
Jigger waved dismissively and Albus made his escape. Gingerly.
Gryffindor tower was blessedly quiet when Albus arrived, and he was glad that everyone else was already at dinner. He sort of wished he had gone himself- hungry as he was, but the thought of everyone else knowing what punishment he had just received was particularly off-putting. He would have just popped in to grab something to carry away with him, but Diggory the Transfigurations professor and Headmaster Black both considered mealtimes to be sacred occasions and it wouldn't do to piss off either of them as well as Jigger.
Maybe he would sneak down this evening with Kijai to get some supper from the kitchens, but he would have to do it before curfew, and the thought of being anywhere apart from facedown on his own bed was a little unbearable. Not to mention the thought of going back down and then up all of those stairs again!
Albus made it to the fourth year dorm room and was about to collapse onto his bed when he realised there was someone already there. Two people in fact.
Kijai and Elphias scooted out of the way, Elphy retreating to his own bed a few feet away, and Kijai to the foot of Albus'. Albus dithered for a moment over whether he should sit, or just lie down on his front, but his body demanded comfort, so he flopped on his stomach, pulling a pillow under his chin. His friends eyes widened.
"That bad?" Kijai asked.
"Well, he was pretty annoyed, yeah."
Kijai pulled a basket out of a magically expanded pocket and started handing out sandwiches to Albus's relief.
"So all that work was just a waste?" Elphy asked around a mouthful of bread. "All those hours in the library and adding stuff up."
"Not a waste," Albus said. "I mean, it's a setback, but we were ahead of the game anyway. I didn't think we would be able to get hold of any dragon blood until seventh year, and we already have three new uses which nobody else has tested before."
"Did Professor Jigger take your notes?" Kijai asked, pulling out glasses of pumpkin juice.
"I gave him them actually – a copy. I thought he might be interested, and he's a Ravenclaw so it's not like he'd steal them."
"Was this before or after he beat the c-"
"After, Elphy!" Albus laughed as Kijai threw a tomato at Elphias.
She looked very indignant, "You should not swear in front of girls, it is not… manlike."
"You mean gentlemanly," Albus provided. "And you swear in front of us all the time."
"Not in English!" Kijai protested, the other two just laughed at her.
Albus smiled at them. He was not looking forward to the next few days – detention with Jigger was sure to be unpleasant. And the thought of having to sit through all of his classes with his behind feeling the way it did…
But at least his friends stood by him. And it hadn't been a huge setback, Albus still had his notes. And hey- the dragon's blood had even cleared up some of his acne. Life could be worse.