Chapter 55: Office Hours
Severus dreamed he was teaching a potions class at Hogwarts. All the students had done their written assignments and were concentrating on their brewing. Nothing was catching fire or exploding. No one was starting a fight. It was a plesant dream, but rather boring, actually.
He woke up, yawned, and stretched. He was glad that the castle was sending him nice dreams to displace his nightmares, but the old pile of rocks sometimes neglected to include the fine pleasures of catching mischief-makers and taking points.
He put on his work clothes and looked out the porthole. It was currently dark outside. Then he looked in the mirror. He'd dyed his hair brown for the ball and now it was growing out. The black roots were definitely starting to show, but what was this? He picked up some strands and looked closer. There was a bit of grey in there! Or maybe it was white? Where had that come from? He wasn't vain; really, he wasn't, but perhaps he should dye it all back to its original black. It would look silly otherwise. And on further reflection he realized that perhaps he should consider himself lucky that it hadn't all turned pure white due to the shock of Nagini's attack. He'd have to get a package of black hair dye from a Muggle shop, or perhaps brew up a formulation of his own. The days when he hadn't cared about his appearance were definitely over, not that he'd ever admit it.
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The Helmet of Hufflepuff was performing its first sorting ceremony and it was going very slowly. The Helmet was conferring with each of the young students, asking about their hopes and dreams and families. The older students were starting to get restless but trying hard not to show it. They were getting their Houses back, after all, and if they had to sit there all morning, then that's what they'd do. They all applauded after each decision, even when someone was sorted into Slytherin. No one dared to boo.
After the ceremony Pomona Sprout told the gargoyle that she would be holding office hours and to let anyone come up who wanted to see her. Then she went up the stairs to the Headmistress's office and made herself a cup of tea.
Soon Filius Flitwick dropped in. "The students are getting resettled in their original Houses and welcoming their new members," he reported. "The Ravenclaws and Gryffindors are moving back into their towers, the Hufflepuffs are back in their home near the kitchens, and the Slytherins are reopening the dungeons. I'm going to go help the Ravenclaws get our trophies out of storage now."
Pomona nodded her approval and Filius hurried off to join his students.
Kerry Pond, the new Head of Hufflepuff, arrived next. "The Puffs have all moved in and they're currently partying in our common room," he reported. "The Fat Friar has been leading them in song."
"I hope he isn't teaching them any of those naughty songs," Pomona said.
"Of course he is," Kerry laughed. "He's taught naughty songs to many generations of Hufflepuffs, including you and me. He was singing that one about the Muggle and the Pigmy Puff when I left. He claims he learned it from Helga Hufflepuff herself."
"Yes, I remember," Pomona sighed. "You'd better get back there and keep an eye on things before they decide to raid the kitchens."
"But they always raid the kitchens. You know that. The Elves expect it. I'm sure the Elves have left lots of goodies out for them to steal, and we wouldn't want to disappoint them, would we?"
"Well, go get on with it, then," Pomona told him. Things were getting back to normal a bit more quickly than she'd expected.
A little while later Neville Longbottom came to tell her that Herbology classes had been going well and he was getting lots of help in the greenhouses. "Even Clayton Urquhart is helping. I never thought he had any interest in plants, but now he keeps talking to them."
"But you talk to them, don't you?" Pomona asked. "I certainly do."
"Yes, but Clayton mostly talks to the aroids, and they're really weird."
Pomona looked mildly concerned. "They certainly are," she agreed, "but each to his own, I guess. Maybe get him to help with the potting."
Minerva appeared next. "All is well in Gryffindor Tower, and I must admit that I'm happy to be back in my old quarters again. And I wanted to let you know that Horace Slughorn has decided to stay on. We can stop searching for a replacement now."
"That's good," Pomona said, and then she thought for a moment. "Or at least I hope it's good. The last time I saw him he was dancing around in the Potions lab, wearing a sombrero and singing 'La Cucaracha'."
It must have been that bottle of mezcal that I gave him, Minerva realized. "He's been experimenting with something, but I'm sure he'll be all right," she said, and she made a mental note to have Poppy stop by and check on him later.
Pomona glanced up at the portraits. They had all welcomed her earlier. All except the portrait of Headmaster Snape, that is. Most of them were away now visiting the newly restored Houses, but the portrait of Severus Snape remained silent and unmoving.
"It's strange that the portrait of Headmaster Snape is so unresponsive," Pomona observed. "Has he ever spoken to you?"
"Oh," Minerva said. "We've got to talk."
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"Wait up, Babs!" Melody called when she saw the seventh-year Slytherin leaving the library. "I've been interviewing Slytherins about what they did during the battle, and Clayton Urquhart said you were there when Tracey Davis got cursed. Would you be willing to tell me about it?"
"No way!" Babs said. "I don't want to get Tracey mad at me. I've been helping the band, being a roadie and stuff, and when I finish here at Hogwarts I want to join them full time. I think they need someone on saxophone and I've been practicing," she said proudly.
From what Melody had heard, Babs needed practice. Lots of practice.
"Anyway," Babs said, "we only came back to get our instruments. We got into the fight sort of by accident."
"I won't mention that fact," Melody assured her, "and I won't include anything you don't want me to."
"Well, maybe, but if you get me in trouble with Tracey I'm gonna hex you real bad. Unless Tracey gets to you first."
Melody wasn't worried about Babs, but Tracey was another matter. "We'll show the article to Tracey and get her approval before I submit it to The Prophet, okay?" It was best not to take chances where Tracey was concerned.
They found a quiet spot in an empty classroom, Melody took out her notebook, and Babs began her tale.
"After McGonagall kicked us out, we used one of the secret Slytherin tunnels to get back into our House," Babs explained. "Most of Parselmouth was there: Tracey, of course; Juan the bass player; Gumball – that's what Jimmy Gimbel, the drummer, likes to call himself – and us roadies.
"We rounded up all our instruments and gear and stuff, and then Juan said we should take it and get out. Tracey said we needed to get Anthony Goldstein first, though, and nobody argues with Tracey, so we went out searching for that stupid Ravenclaw."
"Anthony is the guitarist, right?" Melody asked.
"Yeah. It was stupid, really. Guitarists are a dime a dozen and we could have just found another one if Anthony had got himself croaked, but Tracey insisted that we had to keep the band together." She stuck out her tongue and made a sour face.
"I think Anthony's pretty good," Melody said. "And I like his vocals, too." And he's not bad looking, either, she thought to herself.
"Well, Tracey is the boss, so we headed out. We startled a couple of ugly old Death Eaters who were standing around right outside our entrance, but when they saw our Slytherin robes they waved us through. Tracey flattened them both with full-body binds anyway. She was in no mood to mess around."
"I guess that, after being ordered out by McGonagall, it's not too surprising that Tracey would be in a nasty mood."
"Yeah, we were all in a nasty mood," Babs said. "That old bat didn't give us a chance to defend ourselves, or a choice to stay, or get our stuff, or anything. Anyway, we thought about transforming our Slytherin robes into street clothes so we'd look neutral. But then we realized that our robes might protect us from the Death Eaters, and they were a lot scarier than McGonagall's bunch."
"That's certainly true," Melody said. She'd been part of 'McGonagall's bunch' and she knew that most of them were a lot more scared than scary. She'd done her best in the fight, but she knew she hadn't been very effective.
"We were about to set off when a pack of older Slytherins burst out of the House and ran past us, followed by Professor Slughorn. He shouted, 'Come on! We'll show 'em we're not all bad!' and then he trundled off after his students."
"Sluggy was never known for his physical fitness," Melody observed.
Babs laughed. "Too true! Anyway, we joined up with them because there's safety in numbers. And our Slytherin robes were really effective – the Death Eaters and their pals just ignored us. We brought a lot of them down from behind, just like we did with the first two at the entrance. It was almost fun."
That's a great example of Slytherin cunning, Melody realized. I kind of wish I'd thought to hide myself in Slytherin robes, but then some Gryffindor git probably would have nailed me.
"It looked like most of the action was in the Great Hall," Babs continued. "There were a lot of Eaters and other creeps trying to fight their way in, and the defenders were dueling with them. But we couldn't spot Anthony anywhere."
"Anthony was in the kitchens," Melanie said. "I was there too, along with a bunch of other Hufflepuffs, some Elves, and a Gryffindor. We were trying to keep the Eaters out."
"I wish we'd known that at the time! We headed for the main staircase instead. Flitwick was up on the landing with some students, firing spells down at the attackers. Tracey called to him and he waved us up, even though he knew we were Slythies. He cast a spell to stop the stair treads from disappearing, and up we went. He even cast a spell to reinforce our shield charms. That was a good thing because there were a lot of curses and stuff flying around. I almost got hit by a helmet when a suit of armor exploded.
"Flitwick yelled, 'Give us a hand here!' so we joined him behind their barricade and pitched in. Tracey was asking Flitwick if he'd seen he'd Anthony when that Gryffindor creep Dick Badham hit Tracey in the back with that curse."
"Yikes!" said Melody as she scribbled frantically in her notebook. "Dick Badham? Isn't he the guy who was stalking Tracey all year?"
"Yep, it was him. And I'm sure it had nothing to do with the Dark Lord or Slytherins or the battle or anything. It's just because Tracey refused to go out with him. He used to follow her around, play 'little pranks' on her, and stuff like that. So Headmaster Snape had a 'little talk' with him, and that put a stop to it, for a while."
"That's horrible! What a creep!"
"Badham's curse knocked Tracey through the barricade and over the railing, and set her hair on fire. Flitwick managed to catch her with a spell and pull her back up before she hit the floor, but she was in bad shape and he started casting first aid charms on her. Badham was insisting that it had all been a mistake because Tracey was a Slythy so he thought she was an enemy. Flitwick wasn't buying that, though. He screamed at Badham and told him to get out, and Badham fled up the stairs.
Melody was shocked. "Was Badham ever punished? I never heard anything about it."
"No. Not officially, anyway. It was hushed up in the name of 'healing' and 'unity', of course. I don't think Flitwick was too happy about that, but there wasn't much he could do about it at the time. It was 'just an honest mistake', after all."
"I guess Tracey can't go after him. Everyone would know it was her. They'd cast Prior Incantato on her wand."
"Maybe," Babs said, smiling. "But there are other things that get covered up around here, too. Badham spent a while in St. Mungo's during the summer. He claimed that escaped Death Eaters had attacked him, but the mediwizards said his injuries showed no evidence of magic and he probably just had a really bad fall or something. But there's a rumor that someone, possibly a Ravenclaw, beat the heck out of him. Possibly with an electric guitar. I'd be inclined to believe that one, myself."
Melanie stared at her notes. She wondered how she could manage to turn this into a story that she could actually publish. Journalism was proving to be a lot more difficult than she'd expected.
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"We got a letter from sister my Angie," Kat announced at supper. "She'd like us to stop by and meet with her at Bayou."
Fawkes caught the word 'Bayou', flew over, and settled on the back of a chair. He liked the folks at Bayou, especially his student friends.
"What's it about?" Captain Clark asked.
"Angie says that her former partner, Greg Saunders, has managed to translate part of an ancient text about some sort of potion, and it could be important."
Severus scowled. "Saunders is an idiot. We'd better go look into it or he'll cause trouble again."
"I think we can fit in a stop at Bayou," Clark said. "No problem."
Fawkes chortled with delight.