A/N: My laptop had to be coaxed through a minor technical crisis to get this up on time, so it's a little rough around the edges. I really wanted to get this up though because this chapter is about planting a lot of seeds for things to come in the future. I might be able to finish another chapter before the year is out, but not promises.
Special thanks to Ariely and Hope and Chocolate for their reviews, and a (regular?) thanks to the rest of you reading this. Hope you enjoy.
- x
It was simple really. Phase 1: Break into the private potions storeroom. Swat away NEWT level defensive spells with her wand like flies. Sneak past a sleeping Professor Snape, and secure a bottle of Veritaserum. Phase 2: Abduct Draco Malfoy. Employ a PetrificusTotalus or stunning spell of her choosing. Strap him to a chair in a hidden location, and force the entire bottle down his throat for dramatic effect. Phase 3: Have Draco spill every last detail Lucius told him about her parents, and a few extra secrets for any future blackmail as required. Obliviate and deposit the target in a broom closet for Filch to find. Mission Accomplished.
Her best plan sounded like she'd recycled it from a secret agent novel. Pansy crossed out a doodle of a ferret bound to a chair. Doodly hieroglyphics recorded her plans and framed her elegantly written charms notes. Well, it was her second best plan actually. She'd set her likeliest hope in motion this morning with a letter to Mr. Howell. Pansy requested every sealed file pertinent to her father's cases. If bluffing didn't work, then she could really get hold of the Malfoys' secrets, and twist Draco's arm a bit. With any luck, the clout she had as majority owner of the firm would disarm any professional, ethical or whatever objections the fuddy duddy lawyer would have.
"Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Goyle, if you'd please." Professor Flitwick's squeaky voice reeled her attention back in. Anyone who didn't know him would swear the professor had a rubber duck stuck in his throat. "Just a simple demonstration." He guided an oak log, longer and wider than him, with his wand to the center of class. "Now boys, I'd like you to light this firewood."
He must've picked Crabbe and Goyle for the ease of the task. After four years of careful observation, Pansy was forced to conclude that the pair shared a single brain between them. And it was occupied most of the time with breathing, and with stealing cauldron cakes from passing second years. The pair raised their arms, as thick as the log they were supposed to light, and shouted together: "Incendio." Two beams arched from their wands to the floating log, but were absorbed on contact. Crabbe and Goyle shook their wands like a broken watch until Flitwick's expression told them their performance had been satisfactory.
"Excellent. As you can see, we will be studying the Flama Impervius charm today." Flitwick waved his wand over his head to cast a fiend fyre spell. Two large coils of fire wrapped the severed tree trunk before being sucked out of existence. Pansy muffled a snort with her right hand and hid behind her textbook. Flitwick's little black suit and the elegant wand flourishes made him look like a munchkin orchestra conductor. A shame really. As far as professors went, Flitwick was actually rather nice. Exactly why Pansy was banking on him helping her out.
"The Flama Impervius charm became OWL standard in the thirteenth century when keeping dragons became fashionable among noble houses both Magical and muggle. Of course then OWLs were called NARFs..."
For all Daphne and the others knew, she had chosen to put her head down and forget about Draco. But really, she just had to sit and wait now. She'd made more progress with Potter as well. All thanks to Lavender's diary. If it could be called that. She preferred to think of it as word vomit in purple ink scribbled on the flesh of dead trees who'd rather have been turned into toilet paper. Pansy scanned through the pages that Saturday night. Sheaf after sheaf of the same thoughts and questions: 'I saw Seamus making eyes at me the other day', 'I wonder if Dean likes me, or if he and Seamus...', and so on. Like Pansy was one to judge. Her diary was little more than a 215 page field journal on Draco Malfoy. That and a collection of unicorn sketches. At least she had the sense to transfigure the thing into a paperweight when she wasn't using it. Lavender's journal required a key with two teeth; clearly meant for an eight year old. How tacky.
Among the mind numbing entries, Pansy found one that was remarkably brief for the gushing girl: Going to meet Harry and his friends at the Hog's Head tomorrow. Hoping for more about Cedric. Two lines dated near the start of October a few weeks before Pansy stole the journal. Nothing was written about the meeting afterward.
"Swish, arch, flick and point..." Pansy half registered the motions Flitwick was going through. He pointed the spell at a flask of lamp oil like he was fencing with it. The movements looked easy enough, she'd just borrow Blaise's notes later to be sure.
Even if the meeting had been a bust, Lavender was sure to write something down. The way Gryffindor worshipped at the altar of St. Potter, Pansy expected nothing less. The meeting must have been about something even Lavender Brown had sense enough not to write about. One thing was certain: Potter wouldn't hold a secret meeting to jabber about Cedric Diggory. He'd sooner distribute pamphlets outside the great hall. This was it. Saturday October 5th at the Hog's Head. That was the day Potter initiated his secret dueling club. Umbridge would eat the Inquisitorial Squad badge she'd taken from Pansy for that information. Not that Pansy felt like sharing.
Only...Lavender Brown was in Potter's secret club? Granger didn't even like her. If she was a member, then most of Gryffindor must be in on it too. Considering the way Potter drooled after Cho Chang these days, and the sickening, shy doe eyes she responded with, Potter would never let Brown in but not Cho. That poor sap Harry Potter. He must've admitted anyone he trusted. Which meant, she could snoop on any of Potter's friends and the trail would lead back to him.
Lavender was a sure bet, though, and Pansy already had an in with the diary. Since her discovery, she'd tried, tried, tried day after day. Sacrificing meals, sleep, and a sliver of her sanity to learn the Protean charm. Daphne and Blaise thought she'd finally lost her mind when a small squadron of owls carpet-bombed a tray of bacon with twenty copies of Lavender's journal from Flourish and Blotts, nearly splitting the Slytherin table in half.
"Hmm, Hmm." Flitwick coughed to reign in the class's attention. "For next lesson, I expect one parchment from each of you – yes Miss Granger?"
"Sir, are there any specific titles you recommend we study?"
"No essays this time. The assignment will be a rehearsal for the OWL practical. Please submit one sheet with only your name on it that is impervious to fire." Flitwick stepped down the stack of books atop his chair to see the class out. Many of the students waved eagerly; glad to avoid another writing assignment.
"Coming, Pans?" Tracey got up.
"Go ahead, I'll see everyone at the library later." After a week of failure, there was only one other thing to try if she couldn't learn the spell.
"Miss Parkinson?" Flitwick hadn't noticed his student until he'd climbed back onto his desk.
"Professor, I'm wondering if I might ask for your help with something." Pansy walked up to him.
"About your missing summoning charm essay, perhaps?"
"No..." She'd spent so much time on that damned spell; she hadn't done any of her assignments this week – except for Snape's of course. "I'm really sorry about that professor...it's just you see..." She tried to look sad and let him fill in the blanks.
"I understand the past weeks have been difficult, Miss Parkinson, but I do still expect the work. You're only cheating yourself by avoiding assignments." True to Ravenclaw, he was a stickler for due dates. Hopefully, he'd also be sympathetic to the 'pursuit of knowledge'. That was probably the best angle to play.
"I didn't do the assignment, you see, because I got caught up trying to learn this spell, the Protean charm, and..." His stubbled nose zeroed in on her as if it could smell deceit. Standing on his desk he was Pansy's height. She reached for her bag to try explaining. "You see...my friend Madeleine from...Beauxbatons, is going to spend some time in the French countryside, and I was hoping to send her a special gift before she leaves this week." She withdrew two blank journals from her bag and placed them on the desk. "I'd like to enchant these two journals so anything written in one, will appear in the other. That way I don't have to send my poor owl all the way to France and back every other day with letters." She didn't even have an owl, or a friend Madeleine, but Flitwick didn't know that.
"Brilliant. What a thoughtful and inventive idea." Flitwick beamed and Pansy couldn't help smiling too. "Go on, let's see your spell work then."
Pansy withdrew two sheets of parchment from her bag and weaved her wand through the air in figure eights and arcs. She punctuated the motions with a loud Proteus. "You see," she took the first paper and wrote her name on it. Not even a speck of ink appeared on the second. "I can't get the desired effect. But I know some kind of connection is created." This time, she took the paper with her name on it, and tore it down the middle. Immediately, a fault line appeared along the second parchment, cleaving it in two without a sound. "I've been trying all week, but only destructive effects seem to work."
Flitwick examined the original parchment and its twin. The rips were identical. It was good work indeed. His nose nearly touched the parchment. It reminded Pansy of Trelawney's intensity while palm reading. "I suspect your intent is not specific enough," he finally said.
"Intent?"
Flitwick chuckled. "Had you done this week's assignment, you'd know all about that. OWL grade charms and beyond require using precise methods of visualization, called intents, to be cast correctly. Refer to pages 405 to 519 in your text, for a brief introduction to the subject. Afterward, I'll be glad to help you through the later stages of developing your spell work." He chirped still looking at the parchments. "You've made brilliant progress despite not knowing any of the required charms theory. I'd say, in a month's time you should be able to cast the charm without a problem."
Bugger all. She didn't have that much time. "I see." She let her face wilt, and flushed the enthusiasm out of her voice. With the speed and cheer of a glacier, she picked up the journals and put them in her bag.
"Something wrong, Miss Parkinson?"
"No, not really." She stared at her bag intently as she zippered it. "It's just...I really wanted to send these out to Madeleine before she left this week." She went for the door. "Thank you, professor."
"Miss Parkinson?" He'd swallowed her act, hook, line and sinker. She allowed the smile on her lips to melt away first before facing him. "As this is an extra-curricular endeavor, I can cast the charm for you, Miss Parkinson. That is if you promise to have your summoning charms essay by next class, and continue studying the Protean yourself. I wouldn't want to discourage your new-found interest in charms."
"Oh, thank you." Pansy tried to look grateful, though she hadn't expected the extra work. In an eye blink she had both journals laid out again for Flitwick to marshal his wand through the air and wordlessly cast the charm over them.
Smiling, he handed her the journals. "Your attention always seems to be elsewhere in class, Miss Parkinson, but as usual your wand movement and intonation is superb. If only you'd dedicate yourself to the theory, you could be one of my best students."
He was complimenting and calling her lazy at the same time. Pansy didn't know how to react other than with an awkward "really..." Charms did come easy to her, at least before OWL year, but her a good student? That would be the day.
"Study the pages I mentioned. I'll be glad to answer any questions you have. I'd encourage joining the charms club, but we still don't have approval from Professor Umbridge to reconvene. Vicky Frobisher is still running our private library, if you're interested."
Pansy felt too guilty to admit she'd just been learning the charm for this one use, and otherwise didn't really care about it. She just smiled politely on the way out with a non-committal "thank you, professor."
As soon as she reached the hall, Pansy broke into a sprint to her room. Pugsy Parkinson posters littered the common room floor, causing Pansy to sprint-slide to the girls' dormitory entrance. She pulled Lavender's diary from her trunk and set it beside one of the freshly charmed journals. "Papyrus Effingus." It was a simple spell she used to copy Blaise or Daphne's notes when she needed them. Clones of the sentences in Lavender's diary lifted off the page, and she guided them to one of the charmed journals. The writing soon presented itself on the twin as well. Pansy inspected Lavender's original diary. There were some creases she'd have to duplicate manually, but she could make it look convincing. After that, she'd give the book back to Lavender, and wait. She'd either write something incriminating, or if she didn't, maybe there'd be some hint about when and where Potter's group met.
"Come in Pansy." A spread of pork chops and salad stood in procession on McGonagall's coffee table. Pansy sunk into the same squashed red armchair as the week before, feeling she should've stayed in the Slytherin commons and had a house elf bring down food. One meeting should've been enough for McGonagall to realize that their relationship would work better based on transactions. Pansy gave her a Hogsmeade permission slip. McGonagall signed it. McGonagall took Pansy to Diagon Alley for supplies. Pansy made the trip as quick and painless as possible. No words exchanged. Simple and done with.
"How are you?"
"I see we're pretending like the last meeting didn't happen," Pansy spat.
McGonagall's thin smile retreated just a hair. "We both behaved regrettably. I'd like to start again, if that's alright. I was serious about getting to know each other."
Pansy's chin dipped up and down. "In that case, it's only fair that I get to know you better, professor. Otherwise, it just feels like you're interrogating me."
McGonagall blinked a few times like a stupefied pixie. "Yes...of course." She had decades of first-hand experience to know that no student actually cares about his professors' lives outside of class. Miss Parkinson's intentions were likely less than benign. "An exciting quidditch match, wasn't it?"
"I didn't go."
"Really, why not?" Pansy shrugged, not bothering with words. It was a stupid question to ask. Everyone knew she was a pariah in Slytherin. She and Madam Pince must've been the only ones who missed the opening game of the year. Madam Pince had actually been ready to throw her out on basis of suspicious behavior (missing the game) when Weasley is our King chants rippled across the school grounds and invaded even the library's stone walls. They were rivaled only by Lee Jordan's amplified shouting when, big surprise, Potter yet again caught the snitch and bailed out his team. No wonder McGonagall was in a good mood.
"That's a nice pendant." Pansy complimented the tasteful gold lion around McGonagall's neck. "Pity the gold trim is flaking off. Where did you get it?"
"Diagon Alley." McGonagall tucked the chain and its gem under her gown.
"Ah, yes, I remember seeing Mundungus Fletcher hawking something like that from his trench coat in front of Madam Malkin's; trying to pass it off as real gold." Pansy offered.
McGonagall ignored the remark. "How have you been this week?"
"Well. Thank you."
"If Mr. Malfoy or anyone else has been bothering you, I trust you'll let me know."
Not likely, Pansy thought as she nodded. Her turn to ask something. "And how have you been professor?"
McGonagall echoed Pansy's response. "Well. Thank you for asking."
"Any troubles you'd like to share with me?" McGonagall stared at her blankly. Time for Pansy to show she could be nosy and overbearing too. "No quarrels with a significant other? Or a pet cat at least?"
McGonagall's teacup rattled against its plate. She'd gone too far. Pansy cringed waiting to get blown away by the hurricane she'd just set off. McGonagall's chest swelled ready to let loose a gale-force scolding. At the last, Minerva took a slow breath, evoking the quiet devastation of the eye of the storm instead. "There hasn't been anyone in my life since Elphinstone passed."
Pansy waited for the crack in the façade or a hint of a smile to tell her the professor was joking. But McGonagall wasn't the type. The crawling seconds told her McGonagall was dead serious. Pansy wanted her ratty armchair to swallow her whole. She doubted many students, or any at all, knew that McGonagall lost her husband. McGonagall was genuine about knowing her, even willing to open herself up, and here Pansy was acting like the whole thing was a big laugh.
Professor McGonagall seemed too weary to ask any other questions. She was looking anywhere, but at Pansy. Minutes passed marked only by the soft crunching of biscuits and the pouring of tea. The silence was suffocating Pansy, "Sorry..." McGonagall nodded. Pansy tried feebly to restart the conversation, "so...quidditch."
McGonagall started slowly, gathering the energy to make another effort. "Yes, it was an exciting game. Somehow Gryffindor pulled through."
"What was the score?"
"We were down forty to ten until Mr. Potter caught the snitch."
Pansy didn't want to hear about how Potter saved the day again. "I heard Ronald Weasley choked as keeper and Potter got a lifetime ban." She smirked.
A dark shadow crossed McGonagall's face. "Potter and the Weasley twins got lifetime bans."
Pansy whistled a long note, imitating a shrill tea kettle. "I've never even heard of Madam Hooch giving more than a one match suspension."
"Umbridge," McGonagall corrected.
Pansy's nose wrinkled like something foul just stepped into the room. Her left hand was still an angry scarlet from her detention last week. "For what? Hurting Malfoy's self-esteem when they crushed him?"
Minerva didn't engage in gossip even at sixteen, but if today it meant progress with Pansy, so be it. "They punched Draco Malfoy shortly after the match. I understand Mr. Malfoy said a few tasteless remarks about their families."
"Fools." Pansy accused. "He was obviously baiting them."
"Yes. Although, it was a rather..." McGonagall took a chance, "dirty trick."
Pansy dismissed the remark. "Every good quidditch player knows that a game neither beings nor ends on the pitch. Gwenog Jones once sent a ten-hour singing elf-a-gram to Puddlemere's seeker, Benjy Williams, the night before the league final. Williams fell asleep on his broom, and the Harpies won 230 to 20."
"I didn't realize you're such a fan of the game." McGonagall smiled for the first time since Pansy walked into her office. "Maybe we can talk about that next time."
Pansy looked at her watch. The last ten minutes had melted away. "Sure," she said evenly, walking to the door.
"Oh. One more thing Miss Parkinson."
"Yes?"
"Is there a reason you decided to skip all of your assignments this week?"
Just when Pansy started to think the transfiguration professor wasn't so bad, McGonagall had to spring this on her. Pansy improvised. "I wasn't feeling good. I kept dreaming of mum and dad and..." She stared at the doorknob and hoped McGonagall would interpret her meandering words as laced with sadness and not dishonesty.
"As I thought." Pansy's shoulders relaxed. "...until Professor Flitwick bragged in the staff room that you nearly mastered the Protean charm. He may have said something about a set of purple journals too." The sweat came so quickly her hand felt hot-glued to the doorknob. How was she going to explain this one away?
McGonagall, however, didn't give her a chance to. "I'm glad you do have extracurricular interests after all. Just be sure to do your assignments this week, Miss Parkinson." Before Pansy knew it, she was on the other side of McGonagall's office; the door between them. Did McGonagall think she was still just messing with Lavender Brown? Or did McGonagall know something about Potter's dueling club? It was another minute before Pansy realized she was free to go.