A/N: Yay! I finally wrote enough worthy of another chapter! I had the first bit written well before Christmas but felt that you guys deserved more than what I'd written so after... 2 months... I wrote more! I hope you enjoy it and I want to thank Crossover Dreamer for the idea from "Sky High" about separating kids into "heroes" and "sidekicks." I kind of incorporated that idea a little differently :) see if you guys can spot it! And I also neglected to thank ChrystalFlame12 for the idea of a winter prank in the last chapter so this is me saying thanks a ton! So anyway, without further ado, the next chapter! Exams coming up! Dun dun duhhhhhh :) p.s. I'm sorry if Snape seems a little OOC in the last part. I wasn't sure. Eh oh well.
Disclaimer: I really wish this was mine. But unfortunately, it's not.
The next morning, the enthusiasm of the younger mutants was infectious. It had snowed another foot in the night and all were excited to play in the snow. Somehow or another, with a lot of pleading and some well-used puppy-dog eyes, all of the teachers were outside as well. Most, like Hank and Dumbledore, seemed not to mind being outside in the cold and wet, if only to see the children enjoying themselves. Others, like McGonagall and Storm, were less thrilled but still not against it enough to stay inside. And then that left Snape, Filch, and Logan. Logan didn't mind cold or snow, it just brought back a lot of memories recently surfaced he'd rather have suppressed. Snape didn't like anything and neither did Filch so it was everyone's guess that Dumbledore made them. Filch eventually gave up, trudging back up to the school. Snape however, stayed. Logan was pretty sure it had something to do with the look Dumbledore kept giving him.
But with infectious enthusiasm, there is always regret. That was what all the staff (save perhaps Dumbledore because he was almost always happy about something) felt as they lay, freezing cold, in the hospital wing. Logan rubbed his head, trying to pry off his frozen boot with the other hand. Madame Pomfrey slapped it away and began melting the snow with her wand. "How on Earth did this happen?" Storm groaned, "I don't know." Logan sat up stiffly, "I know." Snape, who was, sadly, across from Logan, sat up, "Oh do you? Well I think we'd all like to know how this catastrophe came about, seeing as it is your fault." Logan frowned, "I thought you only pretended to be dim I didn't realize it wasn't an act." Mystique stifled a giggle in her pillow. Logan lay back down; how had this happened?
About two hours ago…
"Heads up!" A snowball went whizzing past Rogue's head and she stuck her tongue out at Even, "Missed!" Another snowball aimed for Kitty and she phased through it. "Hey! No powers!" Kurt yelled. Kitty giggled and disappeared in the snow, slamming a pile onto Kurt from behind, "You're just jealous you're losing!" Kurt lunged but Kitty phased. Jean stopped a snowball midair, sending it back in Scott's direction. Rogue, who had borrowed a bit of Logan, exploded out of the snow, claws raised, "YAH!" Storm stopped her, "Hey, hey! Nothing that could seriously hurt someone!" Rogue groaned, "But it's not as much fun with just a couple of people. That's why we use powers. Makes it interestin'." A blur spun around her, causing the snow on the ground to lift up and fall on her with a Whump! Pietro skidded to a stop, "Powers make it more fun." Logan stepped forward, "Switch teams." Kitty pouted, "But it's girls against boys!" Logan smirked, "Well not anymore. New teams." Jean was doing a mental count in her head: their potential opponent had an advantage, but the element of surprise was on their side. Plus it was the holidays so detentions weren't in the kids' futures.
Her idea spread like wildfire among the students, telepathically of course. The devilish grin that spread on each of their faces was enough to tell her they were on board. Kitty gave a small nod that Jean knew meant, I'll distract. Kitty bounced on the balls of her boot-clad feet, "So new teams?" Logan nodded. "Like, not girls against boys?" Jean had three snowballs and everyone else had at least one. She nodded to Kitty, "So, like, say, students against, teachers?" Logan had a split second to react before a snowball hit him in the face. By the surprised yells of his colleagues, he knew they were suffering the same fate. And soon it was an all out snow-brawl between teachers and students. Perhaps one or two teachers declined participating but they still got creamed. (Logan had laughed so hard when Snape got hit in the back of the head, he'd fallen over.) Logan knew they could win. Sure it would make the kids sad but winning wasn't always an option. All Storm had to do was cover them all in more snow and the fight would end. But of course, Jean got wind of his (mental) plan and sprung into action. The next thing they knew, Storm was unconscious on the ground, Rogue was in the air, and they were covered in snow with the kids cheering their victory. It was apparent that they were better strategists then most gave them credit for. And that all of the staff would need a vacation from this vacation.
Logan groaned and rolled over on the hospital bed, his head still hurting from the ice-ball he'd taken to the head and his boot still frozen to his foot. Madam Pomfrey tutted and got the rest of the ice off, pulling the boot off and handing him a cup of some bubbling, orange liquid. "Drink up, this will make you feel better. Now if all of you are in here, who is watching the children?" They all exchanged panicked looks. A crash resounded from the hall and the footsteps and laughter of children. An uneven gate followed, "Lousy kids! Get back here! I oughtta string you all from your ankles and dangle ya over a dragon!" Madam Pomfrey sighed, "Almost a dozen Pepperup Potions as a precaution, and one Calming Draught for Filch. Grand. How ever did you manage to get the students to do this to you?" She left the room, not waiting for an answer. Dumbledore, who had watched from the sidelines, perhaps thrown a snowball or two, and gotten hit in nose, smiled, "Well that was fun. I don't believe the staff has ever come together like that before." McGonagall, sporting an arm that looked in the early stages of frostbite, grit her teeth, "Reevaluate your definition of fun Albus."
"I need to do what?" McGonagall adjusted a stack of papers on her desk and folded her hands to look at Logan, "Exams. All years below fifth are required to take a final exam. Fifth and sixth years take O.W.L.S. and seventh year take N.E.W.T.S. The O.W.L.S. and N.E.W.T.S. are administered by professional wizards from the Ministry for practical examinations, which includes your subject. However, you still must prepare exams for your lower years." Logan frowned, "Can I give them an obstacle course?" McGonagall gave him a small smile, "It is your class, whatever you feel is the correct way to tell they have learned the material." Logan rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, "So can I give them an obstacle course?" McGonagall nodded, "If you feel that's best." Logan stood, "Well I'm not making a test."
Storm sat in the teacher's lounge, head bent low over a pile of papers and scribbling furiously. She was so absorbed in her work she didn't notice someone sit next to her. She continued writing, rereading things occasionally and scratching lines out. Halfway through another sheet of paper she gave up, crumpling it and tossing it to the floor. She rubbed her face with her hands and leaned back in the stiff wooden chair, closing her eyes. What she wouldn't do for a cup of tea right now…
The person beside her cleared their throat and she turned, eyes opening a crack and then widening. Logan was staring at her, slightly amused, "Having trouble with exams?" Storm sighed, "I can't seem to make one that's not too complicated but challenging you know?" Logan smirked, "No. I'm having my kids do an obstacle course." Storm gave an exasperated sigh, "So you won't be able to help me." Logan stood, "Not true. Tea?" Storm nodded, "Yes." Logan made his way to the teapot on the table near the door, "Magic word?" Storm smirked, "Please?" Logan returned with the tea and set it beside her, "Actually it was 'firewhisky' but I'll accept your 'please' because you're stressed out." Storm rolled her eyes and gave him a light punch in the arm, taking a sip of her tea. She pulled a face, "You're not good at making tea."
Mystique sat at McGonagall's desk while she taught, arms behind her head and legs propped up on the desk. She was absently staring into space and didn't notice when class ended, nor when McGonagall spoke her name. "Ms. Darkholme. Ms. Darkholme. Ms. Darkholme!" Her head snapped to the older professor, "Hmm?" McGonagall gave her the ghost of a smile, "I would ask you to kindly get you feet off of my desk." Mystique did as told and stood, "So is class over?" McGonagall nodded, "Don't worry Ms. Darkholme you don't have to help me with making exams." Mystique perked up, secretly having been dreading it, "I don't?" McGonagall smiled, "No. I'm sure this comes as a great consolation. You may go." Mystique gave a small wave as she left, closing the classroom door behind her and realizing she had nothing to do. Sighing she wandered the halls, eventually making her way down to the dungeons.
She pulled a face upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, squinting in the partial darkness and wrinkling her nose at the dank smell. It was overall unpleasant. She wandered the corridors, opening all doors and finding empty rooms, the most "exciting" of which held a large box with the lid cracked. She saved the first corridor to her left for last because she knew it held classrooms. The first two were empty but in the last, the door was ajar and light spilled from it. It was nearly dinner, so she knew it wasn't students. Which meant it was either the Potion's master or an intruder. Never one to take chances, Mystique entered the room, her appearance changed to the headmaster, just in case. She relaxed upon entering to see Snape sitting at his desk.
Mystique lowered her wand, "Thank God it's you. I don't know how to use this thing very well." She bent to stick the wand back in her boot but then realized she was still impersonating the headmaster. She straightened, "Damn. Almost forgot." Stuffing her wand in her boot as soon as it appeared back on her foot, she strode forward and sat on the edge of the table nearest Snape's desk. He was staring at her with his hands clasped, elbows propped up on the table. "Can I help you?" Mystique smirked, "No. Dinner is soon." Snape went back to doing what looked like grading papers, "Is it." Mystique frowned, "You have no intention of going."
Snape didn't reply and Mystique stood up, "You're going to ignore me now?" Still no answer. Her frown deepened, "Fine." She strode past his desk and to the door in the back. Opening it, she found shelves upon shelves of potion ingredients. She closed it without a second glance and proceeded to another cabinet more towards the door. It held a single worn potion's book, the cover falling off and the pages wrinkled as though it'd once gotten wet. She pulled it out, flipping it open, the pages falling open to reveal the back cover. "Half-Blood Prince" was scrawled on the bottom and she flipped through it, eyes scanning the ink-covered pages. With a small glance back at Snape she slammed the cabinet shut and smirked as he twitched ever so slightly. With a half-hearted wave she sashayed out of the room, hiding the book in front of her so he wouldn't see.
Halfway down the hall she opened the book again, eyes falling on a single word neatly written on the side of one of the pages. "Sectumsempra," she muttered, "Sounds like some sort of spell." Smiling to herself she tugged her wand out of her boot and slipped in the closest room. It held nothing more than several old desks and what looked like the remains of a mirror on the wall. She propped the book up and read the spell again, glancing at the jagged piece of mirror and fixing her stance. Gripping her wand she glanced once more at the thinly scrawled word before turning to the mirror and taking a deep breath. "Sectumsempra!"
Her wand slashed through the air and she watched as a white light flashed from the tip of her wand. The spell hit the mirror, causing it to fall to the floor and shatter. The light rebounded, heading for her. She held up her hands to cover her face but it had not affect. Mystique fell to her knees, clutching her hands and face and crying out in agony as pain ripped through her, gashes appearing on her exposed skin. She desperately tried to shift to Logan, knowing she would heal, but the pain was too intense and she couldn't concentrate. She wrapped her arms around her middle to try and staunch the blood flow but it did nothing and she cried out again, the pain unbearable.
Snape closed the potion's classroom door behind him and slowly made his way down the hallway. Until Mystique had arrived to remind him, he hadn't realized how hungry he was. Passing the last door before the stairs he stopped short and whipped his head around, eyes fixing on the door. Perhaps he had imagined the cry… But then it was repeated. The distinct sound of someone in pain, something he'd certainly heard enough times to know. He shoved the door open and immediately rushed to Mystique's side, forcing her to look at him. Tears rolled down her face, mixing with the blood still freshly pouring. He whipped his wand out and waved it over her, muttering the incantation "Vulnera Sanentur" under his breath. The wounds were deep because they'd been close-range but he healed them quickly. Mystique stayed with her arms wrapped around herself, still kneeling, when he finished. She was taking deep, shaky breaths. He stood and picked up the fallen potion's book, narrowing his dark eyes at the curse he'd invented. Mystique looked up from her place on the floor, "Who-who is the half-blood prince?" She choked out. Snape set the book back on the desk and went back to her, helping her up to take her to the hospital wing, "Me."
Mystique allowed Madame Pomfrey to apply the dittany to the many almost-gone cuts marring her arms, stomach, and face, with no resistance. She was still a bit shaken from her experience and was only a tiny bit relaxed by the fact that Snape had stayed to make sure she was okay. Even when Madame Pomfrey said he could leave, he hadn't. Mystique refused to tell how she'd gotten the cuts and the older woman didn't press, simply frowning and muttering that it'd be easier to treat her if she knew the problem. Wiping her hands on a towel, the old nurse put her hands on her hips, "Well that should help with preventing scars. Now wait right here. You need a calming draught, you're shaking like a leaf." She bustled from the room to her office and Mystique swallowed, finally risking a glance at her companion. He was holding the potion's book and staring at it almost murderously. "You're the half-blood prince?" He nodded silently and then looked up, "My mother's surname Prince, and she was a witch. My father was a muggle. Half-blood, Prince." He gave no further explanation and Mystique stared at her hands. "You invented that curse?" Snape sighed through his nose, "Yes. It was quite useful in my days as a Death Eater, and even in school, against my enemies. I'd forgotten about this book." The last part he said quietly, almost to himself. Mystique sat up a little straighter, wincing slightly at the dulling pain, "Why did you cross out some instructions and put your own?" Snape finally looked at her and she thought perhaps he smiled, fleetingly, "In all Libatius Borage's knowledge, I had more." Mystique found the power to smile, "That's a dumb name." Snape looked back down at the book, a smile definitely forming on his lips, "I suppose it is."