I own nothing.
The Two Princes of Hogwarts
-Chapter Six:
Vincent heard his potential new mentor coming long before the door opened. "If you ever lie to me again. . ."
"Sorry. . ." Harry trailed off as he sniffed the room, his nose wrinkling in revulsion. "Oh, this is so much better."
"Shut up Harry," Poppy ordered.
"Is Umbridge dead?" Vincent asked curiously. Harry almost fumbled his wand as it appeared in his hand.
"What? No!" he sputtered. "I mean, if she is, I didn't do it. She was alive the last time I saw her!"
"Oh," Vincent grunted.
"I only killed the first one," Harry insisted. "The rest weren't my. . ." he trailed off for a moment, ". . .nope. None of them were my fault." Vincent just grunted.
"The patient Mister Potter," Poppy stated firmly. Harry looked like he wanted to continue on, but frowned and nodded. The last Potter held out his wand and began weaving it through an intricate pattern that made Vincent's mind hurt.
"Stomach virus," Harry reported. "Crabbe, the blue potion on the third shelf behind you." Vincent nodded and made his way to the shelf.
"Please acknowledge verbally Mister Crabbe," Poppy said. "It is a way of making sure that we have all heard the same thing and mistakes are not made on either side. Mister Potter may have misspoken, you may have misheard and Mister Potter may even be wrong in his chosen course of treatment. This is a last line of defense to protect those in our care from mistreatment."
"Blue potion on the third shelf behind me," Vincent repeated as he seized the container. As he made his way over, Harry was already waving his wand over their patient. The seventh year Ravenclaw finally managed to stop retching and Harry took the basin from her lap with a wince. He made his way into another room as Vincent pressed the vial into her hand.
"Thanks," she managed.
"Whole bottle," Poppy ordered from behind her desk. "Lots of clear fluids. Contact the house elves and ask for soup, whatever you prefer. Don't share drink containers, food or utensils for a week." The older woman glanced up from her desk. "I would also recommend you keep your lips to yourself and suggest anyone you've been friendly with to report here."
"Yes Madame Pomfrey," the Ravenclaw said quickly. Harry returned with the empty basin and helped the young woman to her feet after she had finished her potion. She made her way out the door on much steadier feet than when she had entered.
"Not the new year crud yet," Poppy commented.
"Not yet," Harry agreed.
"New year crud?" Vincent pressed.
"Whenever you bring so many people together, you're bound to unleash at least a few things on all of them," Harry explained. "We'll have plenty of sniffles for a few weeks and that will lead us proudly into flu season." The other student found the clipboard Vincent had been using before the patient had arrived.
"But she was sick," Vincent pointed out. "Couldn't she make other people sick?"
"She had a stomach virus," Harry answered. "She probably caught it from contaminated food or drink before she came here. As long as she doesn't share either of those, she won't make other people sick." The Gryffindor paused and glanced at Poppy. The healer nodded her approval. "When the flu starts, then we'll have to worry about things spreading."
"What spell did you use on her?" Vincent pressed. He hadn't put himself here just to sit and watch.
"To find out what was wrong, or to help her nausea?" Harry asked.
"The first one," Vincent rumbled.
"Basic health diagnostic charm," Harry stated. He set down his clipboard and turned to face Vincent fully. Poppy also glanced up at them. "You should probably learn it. Madame Pomfrey?"
"If you're okay with him knowing your health," Poppy stated as she rose. "The wand work is complicated, but the spell is simple." She paused and studied Vincent shrewdly, but he refused to back down. "This spell grants you quite a bit of personal information. This is strictly private, even if Mister Potter doesn't care. You will keep everything you learn to yourself in this case and every other. Am I understood?"
"Yes Madame Pomfrey," Vincent said quickly. He followed along with her movements a few times before focusing on the last Potter and tracing the movements. For a second Vincent thought he had failed, but a steady throb went through his head. It wasn't painful, but he could feel the steady, strong beat and his ears were suddenly filled with the sound of air moving slowly and cleanly. It took him a moment to realize that the movement he was hearing matched Harry's breathing. Undoubtedly, if he checked his fellow student's pulse, it would match the beat in his head.
"What are you feeling?"
"His pulse," Vincent reported. "I can feel it in my head and I can hear his breathing."
"Good," Poppy replied. "Focus on this. Mister Potter is, for the moment, healthy. This is his regular. When we have sick students, we can start to cover the deviations." Vincent squinted at Harry. "Mister Crabbe?"
"The energy around him is moving," Vincent stated.
"Energy?" Harry and Poppy blurted at the same moment.
"You can see energy?" Poppy demanded.
"Should I not?" Vincent asked.
"That is extremely rare," Poppy stated. "You are seeing his magic. You have a gift. Tell me what you see."
"The energy is always moving. It's flowing around him."
"Mister Potter, cast a spell," Poppy ordered. Harry drew his wand and cast a simple illumination charm. Vincent recoiled as he saw the energy smoothly flow to his hand, but once there it became a violent maelstrom.
"That's not right," he stated, speaking more from feeling than anything. "Something's wrong. Something feels. . .sick. It's not natural and his magic is becoming violent at his hand." Harry's wand disappeared and he turned over his hand to revealed a mess of seared flesh. Vincent glanced at Poppy and the woman's eyebrows were almost meeting her hairline.
"Yes," she said, glancing at Harry before turning back to Vincent. "I think what you are seeing is his magic interacting with the dark magic that was used to wound him. I've never even heard of that. Do you see anything else?" Vincent looked over the young man's entire body and felt his eyes drawn to his forehead.
"There's something worse there," he said, pointing to the lightning bolt scar that blended in with the myriad of similar marks on his exposed flesh. Vincent's stomach actually rolled at he stared harder. "It's much stronger and much worse."
"It was always suspected that magic left some vestige behind when it caused wounds," Harry commented. "That's one of the theories on why magical wounds never truly heal."
"But to have a decade old scar more potent than one that was just made?" Poppy asked.
"Maybe that's more about the "who" than the "age" of the scar?" Harry suggested. Vincent continued to stare until a spike of pain lanced through his temples and he had to look away. "Crabbe?"
"I tried to look further," Vincent stated as he massaged his temples. The pain had receded the moment he looked away.
"That can't be good," Harry stated.
"No," Poppy agreed. "No, it is not." The woman strolled over to the small fireplace in the corner of the infirmary. She took a pinch of floo powder and threw it in. "Headmaster's office."
"Poppy?"
"We need to speak."
(:ii:)
Albus frowned as he made his way to the infirmary. It wasn't unusual for Poppy to be cagey, what with the privacy of her patients, but this did not feel normal. He pushed his way into the infirmary and let out a sigh. As he had suspected, Harry Potter was sitting by her desk with an unreadable explanation.
"Nothing good, I venture?" he asked.
"Mister Crabbe has an extremely rare and valuable gift," Poppy reported.
"Oh?" Albus said happily, glancing at the large young man. "Congratulations Mister Crabbe. I hope you plan to use your gift to its fullest potential."
"I don't know," Vincent rumbled after a moment.
"Good," Albus replied, drawing the student's surprised gaze. "If Poppy is right, as she always is, whatever your gift is, it could change your life quite thoroughly if you decide to use it. That is a massive decision and not one you should make rashly." The boy's dull expression shifted minutely, but Albus thought he could see understanding there. "It is your gift and it is your choice in how you use it." He dropped the man a wink and leaned forward conspiratorially. "Though, personally, I rather hope you'll use it for good."
"Thank you, Headmaster," Vincent stated.
"And always feel free to come to my office if you wish to speak about it. I am fully capable of being highly discreet."
"Thank you," Vincent repeated. He did look rather relieved as he went back to inventorying potions. Albus turned back to Poppy and Harry.
"So, what's the other shoe?"
"Mister Crabbe?" Poppy asked.
"You have my permission," the young man rumbled.
"We have discovered that Mister Crabbe is able to use a basic diagnostic charm at a level where he is able to see a person's innate magic and, more amazingly, he can differentiate light and dark magic," Poppy reported. Albus rocked back on his heels. He cast back in his long memory, but nothing sprang forward. "Well, theoretically."
"I'll have to consult my pensieve. I can't recall ever hearing of such a talent," he stated. "Incredible."
"He discovered his ability when he noticed Mister Potter's hand." Albus winced and glanced down at the wounded appendage. Minerva had been storming about his office for some time about that. He had been forced to talk her down from a slight case of murder, and then talk her down from a much less slight case of bodily harm.
"It's no big deal!" Harry said quickly. "It just looks bad because I cauterized it."
"No big deal?" Poppy snarled.
"Punishments involving bodily harm are completely within the charter of this school," Harry stated. He frowned as they both stared at him. "Hermione may have looked it up first year after Filch swore he was going to nail a student's ears to a wall and leave him hanging outside overnight." Albus closed his eyes and massaged his temples. Time for another talk with the caretaker. Better four years too late than never. "Professor Umbridge was well within her rights to act as she did."
"Your hand please, Harry," Albus ordered as kindly as he could.
"We're getting distracted from the real reason you're here," Harry said quickly, his hands plunging, rather unsubtly, into his pockets. "My hand isn't all Crabbe saw." Albus felt and eyebrow rise and glanced at Poppy, but the woman was glaring daggers at the young man. Harry was doing a fantastic job of pretending that he didn't notice, though Albus thought he could see a sweat breaking out across his forehead.
"Ah, I guess that's why they call it sweating a perp," Albus commented, "can't believe it took me this many years to figure that one out. How embarrassing." His statement did manage to break the tension and Poppy turned back to him.
"Mister Crabbe saw something worse in the scar on Harry's forehead," the woman stated. "Something that caused him a great deal of pain when he tried to see more." Albus fought not to let his jaw hang open.
"Well," he said finally. "That can't be good."
"That's what I said," Harry mumbled.
"I will need to take this to some friends and acquaintances," Albus commented. "I would like to explain your ability, Mister Crabbe, but I will not mention your name. Is that acceptable?"
"It is," the Slytherin rumbled.
"Well, unless there's anything else?" Albus ventured. Poppy and Harry shook their heads. "I'll take my leave then. Good night." Albus strode out the door, his mind already racing through his contacts for those who could be helpful. Hell, what was a good, and non-creepy, way to slip Mister Weasley a few shots and let him ramble? The boy had a talent for things like this.
He frowned and checked his pocket watch. While time was of the essence in this, he was limited by the meeting with the Board of Governors that Minerva had demanded in return for not murdering their new Defense professor outright.
(:ii:)
"You look like hell," Ron commented as Harry stumbled into the common room.
"Madame Pomfrey is a bulldog that does not like giving up her bones," the last Potter grumbled. He collapsed into a seat and glanced at Arkin. He turned to Hermione who was sitting next to the unconscious boy.
"He wanted to stay up until you got back," the bushy-haired witch stated as she snatched up Harry's hand and stared at it. She scowled intently, but Harry just smiled at their youngest friend.
"He's a good kid."
"A good kid who really shouldn't be hanging out with us," Ron pointed out. "For his own good," the redhead added as Hermione's jaw dropped to argue. "We should try introducing him to other first years."
"Most first years avoid us like the plague," Hermione pointed out. She sighed and glanced at the boy. "He's too smart. They'll make fun of him." The room was silent for a bit.
"I would apologize for that again," Ron finally said, "but I have noticed how I usually accrue much of your ire in sparring. At least, when Harry manages to keep his mouth shut."
"Water under the bridge," Hermione stated regally.
"Then why does it feel like the water keeps slamming me into the bridge?" Ron pressed, causing Luna and Harry to snicker. "Speaking of being slammed into hard things, did anyone speak with the Inevitable yet?"
"I think it's best to let her cool down a little after tonight," Harry stated firmly. That drew the attention of everyone present and awake. "Okay, I may have forgotten to mention it, but I talked to her and she's asked Professor Flitwick to join us."
"Huh," Ron grunted, leaning back in his seat. "I know he's a former professional dualist, but that doesn't really explain the deep, rolling terror that I am now feeling."
"I know, right?" Harry demanded.
"I don't feel that," Hermione stated.
"That's because you are the scariest thing you can imagine," Luna stated kindly as she patted the other's witch's knee.
"No, I'm not!" Hermione insisted.
"You're up there for me," Ron admitted. Harry chose not to voice his own opinion out of fear, but his body betrayed him and nodded, exposing his true thoughts.
"Well, that makes our first fight with him easy!" Luna announced. "Ron, you will accidentally hit me with a stunner as soon as we begin."
"Why don't you just stunner yourself?" Ron asked.
"Because that would draw his attention and I have no desire to do that," Luna said patiently. "The rest of you can do whatever you want. It will make no difference."
"I don't see why this is such a big deal," Hermione grumbled.
"You will," Luna stated as she reached up to affectionately pat the taller student on her head. "You will."
"Also, Crabbe used a diagnostic charm on me and may have seen something in my forehead that caused him extreme pain," Harry added. The room went dead silent for a long moment.
"It is out of respect for Arkin that I don't jump up and beat you while screaming for not leading off with that," Hermione stated. Harry shrugged, unsure where he could have inserted that little tidbit before.
"Does anybody know what he saw?" Ron asked.
"He tried to explain, but it was more feeling than actually seeing," Harry answered. "Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey are looking into it."
"Well, that can't be good," Ron grunted.
"I know, right?"
"We'll begin looking into it," Hermione stated, glancing at Luna. The blonde nodded with a determined smile on her face. "We'll go to them if we find anything."
"Thanks," Harry stated. He glanced at Ron and frowned. What was a good and none creepy way to get his friend utterly smashed and have him drunkenly ramble his way through the situation?
"What?" Ron asked.
"Nothing," Harry said quickly. He glanced at Hermione and could see the wheels spinning behind her eyes.
"Weekend's coming up," she announced.
"Yeah?" Ron ventured.
"We should all relax," Luna added. "Maybe Monte Carlo and a few drinks?"
"First rounds on me," Harry stated. And the second. An the third. And however many more it would take to get the redhead in the right state of mind.
"Sounds good to me," Ron said happily. "So, let's put Arkin to bed and go see a guy about a job."
(:ii:)
"What is this about Dumbledore?" Albus just smiled as he nodded to the twelve witches and wizards before him. Minerva was practically vibrating at his side.
"We have had an incident," he admitted.
"I should hope so, calling us all here at this time of night!" one of the governors snapped in irritation.
"Has a student been injured?" Augusta Longbottom demanded. Albus had always appreciated the witch who had taken over as chairman after Lucius's abrupt departure. At the woman's words, a nervous murmur broke out as the governors went from irritated to worried.
"Well," Albus began.
"You could saw that," Minerva grumbled, causing quite a rise in volume.
"What has happened Albus?" Augusta demanded.
"A student has been punished in a manner that I do not approve of," Albus stated. "The professor was well within her rights according to the school charter, but I feel that the damage dealt was rather unnecessary. I would like to move for the charter to be changed so that physical injury is no longer an acceptable punishment." Albus had been meaning to push the topic for years, decades really, but there was always something taking precedent. A dark lord here. A basilisk there. And always the eternal search for a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
"Which student?" Augusta demanded.
"I cannot name them for privacy's sake," Albus began, "but I can assure you that it was not your grandson Augusta, nor the relations of anyone here."
"Not that that should matter," Minerva snarled, making more than a few of those present look away awkwardly.
"What professor?" Augusta demanded. "What did they do Albus?"
"Dolores Umbridge," Albus stated. "From what I understand, she used a quill that carved words into the back of the student's hand as they wrote."
"What kind of professor would think that acceptable?" Augusta roared, cutting off the other governors before they could even draw breath to argue. "How could someone like that even become a professor?"
"Well," Albus began awkwardly.
"You lot told us to take her on," Minerva snapped. "You even pushed forward a decree removing the qualifications requirement at the recommendation of the Minister of Magic."
"That will be enough Minerva," Albus ordered. The woman spun to glare at him and he stared her down. The witch may have been terrifying, but Albus had been terrifying before she was even born. She backed down quickly. Terrifying and smart. Albus had struck gold with his Deputy.
Blame was a delicate thing. In unfortunate situations, those with the most blame were also the ones who could do something. They had to be coddled. To be allowed to deflect or else they may double down.
"The Minister was quite adamant that Dolores would be a capable instructor," Albus announced, giving all present a place for their blame. "We had no reason to doubt his word." They had had every reason to doubt his word. "Even with this punishment, she has been well within her rights as a professor to act as she has. That is why I am moving to change the charter, to give all professors a much better grasp of what is acceptable."
"She tortured a student!" one of the governors announced, probably looking to shift more blame. "We must dismiss her at once."
"We do not have the grounds to dismiss her, nor do we even have the grounds to discipline her," Albus explained. "She made no error in judgement. She was well within the guidelines to do as she did. That is why I propose changing the guidelines, in order to make sure this never happens again."
"This quill she used, it must be a dark object," Augusta stated suddenly, causing the room to fall silent. "Using dark objects on a student is outside the charter. Where is this quill Albus?"
"The student, unfortunately, broke it," Albus answered. "Minerva brought me the parts, but any dark magic it contained was expelled after that."
"They broke it did they?" Augusta pressed.
"An unfortunate accident, I've been assured," Albus said. The woman glared at him with shrewd eyes. She had been clever when he had met her as a young woman and time had only honed her. Her lips twitched and something similar to a brutal amusement played in her eyes.
"Potter."
"I cannot confirm or deny that the student is Harry Potter," Albus allowed.
"Can you tell us if your Defense Professor still draws breath?" Augusta asked. "We've all heard rumors about Potter and the Defense Professors."
"For now," Minerva grumbled, earning her a heavy dose of side eye from Albus.
"Rumor also says that Umbridge has been leading the Ministry's smear campaign against Potter. Potter and you," Augusta stated, "and now she's tortured Potter. What line did she make him write Albus?"
"I don't think. . ." Albus began, already knowing how to play this situation.
"She had him carve "I must not tell lies" into the back of his hand while writing it in his own blood," Minerva snapped, playing her part perfectly even if she didn't know what part was hers to play.
"I see," Augusta stated calmly, the other governors knowing to stay quiet. "They have been quite adamant that both of you are liars, haven't they? They keep telling us Voldemort hasn't returned." The other governors shifted uncomfortably at that name. "They're so sure that they've decided to prove it by torturing a child that is contradicting them."
"What are you getting at Augusta?" one of the governors whispered.
"Both sides are telling a story, but one side seems to feel that they must go much further to make their story the truth," Augusta explained. She shrugged suddenly. "I'm not saying anything in particular, but maybe everyone present should do a great deal of thinking about this later." Albus had to smile.
Ah, the old Slytherin crowd. How he missed her type. Maybe he could have her come back and lecture the current crop. Though Mister Malfoy had recently begun to really apply himself to his house's fundamentals.
Augusta cleared her throat. "While this may have been within the charter, I do not think that a single person here agrees that this is an acceptable punishment for anyone, let alone a child." She glared at the others and they all nodded, helpless in the face of her brutal charisma. "I move to change the charters and to publicly admonish the Minister for his failure to suggest a suitable professor."
"Second," half the other governors announced simultaneously. The rest weren't far behind as they found a head to lay blame upon.
Augusta shot Albus a look and he gave her a small smile and a smaller nod. It was so nice to work with another professional who had similar interests to you.
Honestly, it was disturbing how little people cared for the youth of a nation when their own reputations were on the line.
"Oh, and by the by," did Albus really dare? Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained. "Has anyone here ever heard of a horcrux?"
"Is that with a w or an h?"
"That's under investigation."
"I see," Augusta stated. She frowned suddenly. "What on Earth did Potter do in order to get a detention on his first day?"
"Well, I cannot confirm or deny that the student was. . ."
"Umbridge mistook his medication for alcohol," Minerva snarled. "She then confiscated it, to the danger of all the people in this castle."
"She took his medication?" one of the governors blurted out. "She deprived a student of medication?"
"Well, yes," Albus admitted.
"Did she speak with Madame Pomfrey before she did so?" the governor demanded. Albus knew the man to be a healer from St. Mungo's.
"She did not," the Headmaster stated. "Unfortunately, the student did not approach any of us about the issue, or we would have intervened and explained the situation to Professor Umbridge."
"Is this allowed under the charter as well?" the healer demanded.
"It is," Albus allowed. "Again, it has never been a problem in the long history of this school before."
"Because no one has ever been this foolish before!" the healer snarled. "I move to add to the charter that a professor must consult the school healer before daring to interfere with a student's healthcare."
"Second!" Augusta announced. "I demand we also add this to our open letter to the Minister." The other governors weren't far behind.
Albus fought to keep his smile mild. He hadn't even considered that point.
Oh, it was so fun to have others aid you in the destruction of your enemies. Whether they knew it or not.
(:ii:)
Draco glanced up as the door to the Slytherin common room opened.
"Vincent," he stated, "how was your fist day in the infirmary?" The large young man froze for a moment before he strode over and collapsed into an overstuffed chain.
"Interesting," he allowed.
"Is Umbridge still alive?" Draco ventured.
"She had Potter carve "I must not tell lies" into the back of his hand," Vincent stated.
"Potter?" Draco sputtered. Victor nodded. "The Boy Who Lived? The Heir of Slytherin. The False Champion? The Madman of Hogwarts? The Dragon Spooker? Harry fucking Potter?" Vincent nodded again. "So, she's dead."
"Not yet," Vincent stated.
"Why not?" Draco demanded. His mind flew through different situations before a smile slowly spread across his face. "Because he's toying with her. He's such a lunatic that he enjoys tormenting his enemies before ending them."
"Do you really believe that?" Vincent asked.
"No, but the student body will."
(:ii:)
Sal perked up as he heard the bell on his door ring and soon his young associates appeared from the racks. "Training?" he ventured.
"Not exactly," Hermione replied as they arranged themselves around the counter.
"Two nights in a row?" Sal wondered as he fished out a bottle and began doling out glasses. "I haven't found anything about horcruxs yet, if that's what you're here for."
"Not exactly," Harry repeated as Sal sighed. He hated when they did the hive mind thing. It was creepy.
"You didn't kill Umbridge, did you? Accidentally or otherwise."
Well. . ." Harry trailed off as he reached for his glass. Sal did a double take as he saw the injury on the back of his hand. "Let's just say I have a feeling that it will come to that."
"What the fuck?" Sal managed, a whole plethora of emotions swirling inside of him
"We need everything you know about Dolores Umbridge," Hermione stated. "Then we need you to go out and find everything there is to know about Dolores Umbridge." Harry sipped his glass and Sal's eyes stayed locked on the words carved into the charred flesh.
"I am going to throw Albus out on his ear if he ever comes here asking me to be the Defense professor again," the older man said finally.
"Probably for the best," Harry agreed. "I'd hate to have to kill you."
"Aw, I'd hate to have to kill you too."
-End
(:ii:)
-Author's drunken rambles. I know, I know. Harry Potter is a children's story, but even then, the useless adults trope is abused to hell and back in the Order of the Phoenix.
I'll tell you, doing a full reread for these stories as an adult has been kind of punishing. I know. Children's story, but really, God damn!
To be fair, only acknowledging this as an adult and not as a child means that the books were perfectly written for their target audiences and it's not like I didn't grow up in a time where all kids' books and movies didn't features horrifically incompetent or just flat out evil adults.
Shit, going back to my childhood and going through the media at the time, you'd probably be surprised that more kids didn't just run off, assured that they were totally ready to face the world at the grand old age of. . .twelve.
Also, trying not to make this a fix fic, but ignoring some of this shit would just be ridiculous in my opinion.
Also, not to be arrogant, but I can kind of tell when this site fucks up and doesn't tell anyone when I update. I mean, there's a noticeable difference when I get double digit reviews in less than two days versus a week or more, but this last one takes the cake. Not only were a lot of people not notified, I wasn't even notified and as far as my email can tell me, there was no new chapter and definitely not thirteen-ish new reviews.
Let me be clear, if you haven't read my bio. Updates are the first full weekend of the new month. If the Friday is the old month and the Saturday is the new month, that's not a full weekend. First full weekend, new chapter. I may miss an update here and there, but I haven't yet with this thing. Knock on wood. Though we are getting close to the end of the outline I had for this when I started.
Look, planning may not be my strong suit, okay? We wing it here. That's just how it is. Probably helps with the frenetic pace most of my stories have.
So, with technical troubles and a lack of response to my technical troubles, kind of thinking about making a backup on A O 3. What do you guys think? We could set up a group chat or something and come up with tags. Maybe Q&A shit too. Throw around a few drunken misadventures, or just misadventures in general. Advice. Gun talk. Cooking tips. General bitching. Drinking contests. Could be fun.
Love you. Fuck you. Goodnight.
-Uncle Jack
P.S. Holy shit. I fucking did it. I made a turkey for Thanksgiving that I actually liked.
Now, I am not a turkey man. I am a mashed potatoes, stuffing and green bean casserole man that covers all of that in gravy, but I did it. Separate the skin, dry brine, pack the loose skin with compound butter and rub the breast with the same. Four sticks total.
I made a turkey that was actually good. Then I waved a knife at anyone that stepped forward to try to carve it because the carving in my family is less carving and more skinning then picking at it while throwing away the skin.
Epic rap battles has a point. Anything's good with enough butter, booyah!
Thank you, Julia.