Chapter 54: Viva Las Vegas!
"We're going to Las Vegas?" Severus asked. "There's not a lot of water around there."
"Actually there is. You just have to know where to look for it," Captain Clark told him. "There's lots of pools and fountains, and the golf courses all have water hazards. Most captains can't handle those sort of places, though. They just drop passengers at Lake Mead and let 'em catch a Knight Bus from there. But I take folks right into The Strip. Watch carefully and I'll show you how it's done."
Clark rolled up his sleeves and began to wave his wand in complex patterns and chant spells. The magic engines sprang into action, humming and thrumming. The boat began to vibrate in strange ways and suddenly they popped up in a very large pool. Fountains were spraying, colored lights were flashing, and Viva Las Vegas was playing through loudspeakers. A crowd, most of whom were at least moderately drunk, were watching happily.
"They think we're part of the show," Clark laughed. He pulled a lever, the gang plank extended, and the passengers disembarked. The crowd surged toward them seeking autographs. "They think our passengers must be some sort of celebrities. I warned them to expect that."
The passengers had gotten into the spirit of the thing and were wearing flashy outfits and sunglasses. They waved and shook hands as they made their way through the crowd.
Fawkes flew out and circled the pool. The crowd clapped and cheered.
"It must be some sort of new animatronic robot thing," a man in a loud tropical shirt observed.
"Yes, it's amazing what they can do these days," his wife agreed.
Clark retracted the gangplank as Fawkes sailed back into the boat.
"Well done, Captain" Severus said. "Could we stay for a bit? I wouldn't mind seeing some of the Muggle magicians."
"Maybe another time. Someone is calling for pickup in Vancouver. Why would you want to watch Muggle magicians, anyway? It's not real magic."
"That's what makes it interesting. Muggle magicians are highly skilled at creating illusions. I've heard that some of them even show you how they do it. A friend of my dad's taught me some Muggle card- and coin-tricks when I was a kid. The practice improved my dexterity, which also improved my spell casting and potion brewing."
The friend, who was known to everyone as Fingers, also taught him how to pick pockets and locks, but Severus decided not to mention that. The Muggle police had caught up with Fingers during one of his "shopping trips" in Manchester, before he could teach young Severus how to crack safes. It was probably just as well.
XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXX
"What's this?" Minerva asked when the owl dropped the box in front of her. To Headmistress McGonagall, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, United Kingdom, with thanks for the Glen Mystic the card said. Former Headmaster Snape hadn't even bothered to disguise his handwriting.
She lifted a bottle of clear liquid out of the box. A small pamphlet was attached to its neck. She held the bottle up to the light.
Good gracious! There's a pickled worm in it! she realized. It must be some kind of exotic potion. I'll take it to Horace!
She found him in the potions lab pouring some sort of thick purple liquid into vials.
"It's mezcal, Minerva," Horace Slughorn told her as he perused the pamphlet. "It's made from the blue agave plant, Agave azul, which is pollinated by bats. The pickled larva is a guarantee of quality, or something. The pamphlet says mezcal is commonly drunk straight, often accompanied by slices of fruit, and it gives some recipes for cocktails, too. Would you mind if I experimented with it?"
"Go right ahead, Horace. Please be my guest. Should I have Poppy stand by?"
Horace uncapped the bottle and sniffed the contents. "Hmmm," he said, "I must experiment with this. It might go well with crystallized pineapple."
Minerva took the opportunity to tell him they were sorry they hadn't found a replacement for him yet. "We've been so busy, and it's hard to find good potions masters who are not otherwise engaged." And because Horace was easily swayed by flattery, she added, "The students certainly flourish under your tutelage."
Horace set the bottle on his desk. "Don't worry about it, Minerva," he said. I've been thinking of staying on anyway. Maybe I'll restart the Slug Club."
She left him looking for his tin of crystallized pineapple.
XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXX
Rita Skeeter put on an inconspicuous cloak and apparated to the Diagon Alley branch of the London Library of Wizardry where she viewed their collection of Hogwarts year books. There were long shelves of them reaching back across several centuries.
If I could just find that Hufflepuff girl that Snape might have been dating after Evans dumped him, that would be quite a scoop! Rita thought. She was probably in his year, or maybe a year or two behind him, but that still leaves a lot of possibilities.
She opened the relevant yearbooks and looked at the pictures of happy Hufflepuff girls and boys waving from the pages. There were tall girls and short girls, pretty girls and plain girls, skinny girls and plump girls. It could be any one of them.
I need someone to chase down these girls. It will cost me, but it could be worth it.
She tapped each picture with her wand, making copies that she tucked into her purse. Then she headed into Knockturn Alley. After a short walk she came door that, like most doors in the alley, was in bad need of a paint job. A small sign on it read "Nick Gray, Detective for Hire". The door was unlocked and she went in.
XXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO
I knew I was in trouble the minute she stepped into my office. Curly blonde hair, red lipstick, lovely legs, and rhinestone-studded glasses. Oh, those glasses! What a dame! I knew I should tell her to get out, but I just couldn't do it. As she took off her cloak and strolled toward my desk I could hear a smoky saxophone solo playing somewhere.
"Nick," she said in a voice that could melt Antarctica, "I need you to do a little job for me."
"No, Rita, not again. I learned my lesson last time, after you sent me to see what I could find out from that guy with the goats. I'm still havin' nightmares about that. Do you know what it's like, tryin' to hide from some big shaggy lunatic who's huntin' you with a pack of wild goats?"
"No, I don't," Rita said, smiling, "and I don't want to. That's what I pay you for. Now don't you want to know what I want this time?"
I didn't, but I hadn't had many clients lately and I needed the money. The landlord was gettin' a bit touchy about the absence of my rent payments and was threatening to hex me to the moon.
She didn't wait for my answer. She opened her dragon-skin purse, took out some photos, and spread 'em out on my desk.
"I copied these photos from some Hogwarts year books. I believe that one of these girls dated Severus Snape when he was still a student. He tutored her in Potions. I want you to find out which one she was, and where she is now. That shouldn't be too difficult for a man of your talents, now, should it?"
"I'll need my fee up front," I said firmly. "Plus expenses."
"Half of it up front," she said, "and the rest upon satisfactory completion."
She took a few Galleons out of her purse and plunked 'em down on my desk.
I took the job.
XXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO
"Wow! Have you seen this?" Biscuit asked, waving the newly arrived copy of The Prophet at Severus. "That McGonagall lady resigned as Headmistress. Somebody named Sprout is gonna to take over. Was she the one dressed as a pineapple at the ball?"
Severus snatched the paper from him. "Yes, she was the pineapple." He turned to Rita's column. She winked at him from the small photo at the top.
A marvelous change, he read. Marks a clear end to the aftermath of the war … a new era … Sprout is rather bland and unimaginative, but will probably do well enough.
Then Rita launched into a long list of Minerva's faults, both real and imagined: Dumbledore's stooge … aloof and snooty … vindictive and prejudiced ...
"Now, now, Rita," Severus muttered, "she wasn't that bad. Not all the time, anyway."
… and she had the nerve to blame her resignation on the Slytherins … claimed she was resigning to apologize for driving them out … utter nonsense …
That revelation took Severus by surprise. Rita didn't believe that Minerva was sincere, but Severus knew she must have been, which made him feel a bit warm inside. Whatever faults she might have, Minerva McGonagall had never been a liar.
"We're going to break out that bottle of Glen Mystic tonight," he declared to Biscuit, "and drink a toast the new Headmistress. And then we'll toast the old one, too."
Biscuit smiled. He considered telling Severus that he was getting soft, but then wisely decided against it.
XXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO
A/N: The illustrated version of Birds of a Feather, Voyage 3, is now available at the Red Hen Publications website. Just click Publications, Tales of the Potterverse, and Where Do You Go After Hogwarts? and enjoy!