Chapter 70: Listening In and Sneaking Out

Sans stepped into the common room, made sure the coast was clear, and immediately opened another shortcut back to the office. Not to go through, of course, but he did want to listen in. It already rankled that he'd had to wait all the time it took to get somewhere private enough; he didn't want to miss anything more.

"—believe there may be a connection, then?"

He stopped short, nearly tripping on his own feet. It would seem that Snape, of all people, had joined the conversation. Although, listening carefully, he realized that Flitwick must have left at some point. It was just Snape and Dumbledore in the office.

There was a pause: he assumed the headmaster nodded or shrugged or mysteriously smiled or something. "I believe, if it is a coincidence, it is certainly a dramatic one."

"Dramatic. Indeed."

Snape sounded thoughtful—probably a bad sign, especially given how the professor had been keeping an eye on him lately.

He could try peeking through the shortcut to get a better read on their expressions, but listening through and looking through were actually fairly different mechanically, for complicated space-time light physics reasons that would take too many diagrams to properly explain in any depth. Sans had attempted to do so once, ages ago, and decided that it wasn't worth the effort. Suffice to say that sound passes through like sound—with particles bumping particles bumping particles, as usual—while visuals pass through like particle-wave-probability magic.

Maybe something in that could be caught by some obscure wizard-style magic-security where the shortcut sound interaction had not. Or maybe it would be fine. Either way, he'd apparently tripped off something during his earlier visit—Dumbledore had returned to his office with unusually good (or bad) timing, after all. Sans wasn't keen on seeing what else he might have missed.

Just eavesdropping would have to be enough.

Shifting the shortcut wide (metaphorically), he tried to pick up as much of the sounds as he could.

A swish of fabric, a long robe pulling on the floor during a turn: Snape, probably. "It does seem foolish to discount these events as mere happenstance."

"This is, after all, the first prophecy that the Ministry has recorded since the incident in June."

Sans found himself holding an unnecessary breath. 'The incident'? He and Sirius had jumped into this reality back around that time, but what connection did that have with an apparent drop in the number of prophesies being made? He hadn't thought their arrival had made many waves.

Well, any more waves than an escaped (not) criminal would generate.

He thought back, unused to having a history of new days that went along so far. Of course, he'd had to recall that particular night not too long ago. They had landed on the shore of a small lake, at night, it was dark and cold, there were—

Ah.

"Yes. One must wonder…"

And Snape had been there, and he'd seen the Gaster Blasters, and, given his behavior during class after the first task, he'd plainly remembered the details well enough to tentatively connect some dots. Unfortunately.

But again, what was the connection here? What was 'the incident', really?

On the other side of the shortcut, there was a pause. One that was, in Sans's experienced opinion, rather suspicious.

It would seem that Dumbledore agreed, as he asked, "What is it, Severus? Is there something else that ought to be taken into account?"

The was another sound of cloth—not enough to be the full robe, so Snape must have just gestured or something. "The… timing is curious, that's all. Nothing we need concern ourselves over."

As if the potions master wasn't going to concern himself over whatever it was.

Sans half-listened as the conversation shifted to other, largely unrelated reports on the evening's celebration. It was unfortunate that he'd missed the first part of their discussion, even if, with just what he'd heard, Sans had plenty to think on. Key points: an 'incident' that could somehow be related to recording prophesies, the timing potentially lining up with his and Sirius's arrival, and the current event marking some kind of change.

Well, depending on just how much Snape truly suspected…

At the start of summer—a short figure in blue, something happened to the prophecies.

Now—a short figure in blue, a prophecy.

Yeah, that chain of thoughts wasn't too hard to follow. Especially since Snape had been keeping a close eye on Sans for the whole semester, after that day-one slip up. The only real surprise, frankly, is the fact that it doesn't seem like Dumbledore completely shares the professors's suspicions.

Or at least, not all of them.

Was that just a difference of opinion, or was the headmaster not fully informed?

"These past few hours have truly been full of surprises," Dumbledore remarked, and there was a cloth-y creak that likely came from settling back into a chair. "And to think, at the time, I thought that would be the most interesting development of the day." A lightly amused chuckle. "Alas!"

Though unseen, he could clearly picture the disdainful expression that Snape was surely giving the headmaster: a silent 'get on with it' that was palpable, even at a distance.

"Earlier this evening, I received a most curious letter."

Right, that—Sans refocused, once again listening closely.

"From whom?"

"All in due time, Severus. Now," there was the sound of paper shuffling, unfolding, "I would like your opinion."

Neither said anything for a long moment, no doubt reading. With nothing but the stillness of the empty common room, Sans started feeling a little twitchy. While he did trust that his friend wouldn't have shared anything he shouldn't—for the prank potential of knowing things Dumbledore didn't, if nothing else—Sans was still curious why Sirius would have bothered writing a letter at all.

The quiet on the other end of the shortcut told him nothing.

Feeling on edge as he waited, he glanced around the common room: still empty, still dark, kind of sleepy. It was getting way past late at this point. He took a quick peek through to the Great Hall, where a few people were lingering in the after-haze of the Yule Ball. Most had left at some point, including (he double checked) Harry and Hermione. Another peek, and he was relieved to see that they weren't already in the empty classroom.

Not yet, but soon; they were probably just grabbing some things from their dorm rooms. Sans made sure to keep that link open so that he'd notice when they arrived.

Then a voice—Snape's—snapped his attention back to the office.

"…No."

"'No'?"

"You cannot expect me to believe that he would—" There was a sharp click, teeth biting off the rest of a sentence. Then, an apparent non sequitur: "How did you receive this letter?"

"I found it on my desk a few hours ago."

"Your desk? Here?"

A thoughtful hum. "Yes, which certainly raises some questions."

That prompted a soft lilting whistle—as sublime as phoenix song always is, but with a very distinctly 'just act natural' faux-innocence. He had to assume that the headmaster had given Fawkes some kind of look during that remark.

"But I believe all of that is beside the main issue here," Dumbledore continued. "Do you believe his claims?"

Snape gave a superior sniff (aided, no doubt, by his impressive nose). "We were already suspicious that the Dark Lord had created more than one, this is simply… external verification."

Ah—so Sirius must have written something about the Horcruxes in there.

"Verification, and a warning."

A scoff. "Not much of one, surely."

"And," Dumbledore continued, with weight and purpose, "an apology."

Silence.

Presumably, Professor Snape was glaring daggers at the headmaster.

Sans puzzled over the apparent apology—to who and why, primarily, though he could hazard a guess by his reaction that it had been addressed to Snape. But the why was still unclear.

He knew Sirius generally avoided the potions classroom, though he'd always thought it was because adding sensitive dog-nose plus chemical fumes equalled a bad time. But then again, back at the beginning of the semester, Sirius had warned him that the professor was sneaky, conniving, and a jerk (though he'd used different words). There had been other one-off jabs, though they hadn't been any more noteworthy than the complaints from the rest of the student body.

Still, that was evidence of something. Perhaps it's only natural that there are parts of their shared history that merit an apology.

"Not much of one," repeated Snape, with finality.

Sans was distracted from the headmaster's reply, as he heard a door creak open and the murmur of familiar voices.

Not in the common room, no—though he did glance that way, just to be sure. It came through from the empty classroom.

Time's up, then.

Well, he'd probably already heard—or already missed—all of the important discussion. He stood, letting the connection to the office fall shut and turning his attention to the other shortcut.

As he'd guessed, Harry and Hermione had returned to their dorm rooms first to change out of their fancy (and no-doubt kind of stuffy) party clothes. And, given the small bundles they both carried, they'd also collected a few things to bring with them. Not too much: they would be back in the castle by dinner tomorrow, after all.

Harry was stuffing the invisibility cloak into his bag—which, upon closer inspection, was probably one of his pillowcases. Hermione had just repurposed her usual bookbag.

"It's not like I disagree!" he was grumbling. "So I don't know why you keep bringing it up, 's not like you need to convince me."

Hermione shut the door behind them, a bit harder than necessary. "No one else seems to listen! Even Ron just— just gets this annoying look on his face, convinced house-elves are meant to be servants. That they like it!" She huffed.

Probably looking for a distraction, Harry asked, "When do you think Sans will get here?"

And that's his cue.

He stepped out through the shortcut from behind the chalkboard—or seemed to, as there wasn't actually enough space back there to hide. "lovely night, isn't it?"

"Merlin's beard!" Harry startled, unknowingly reacting in a very similar way to his godfather. "Were you back there that whole time?"

"by some metrics of physical space, yes."

Hermione had moved to take a look behind the board, but she stopped to shoot him a curious look. "What does that mean?"

Chuckling to himself, Sans pointedly didn't answer. Not that it really mattered, given that she'd get to travel via shortcut, and therefore see what he meant, soon enough.

For a given value of 'see', anyway.

"So… all you told us was to meet you here." Harry glanced around the room, as if that would reveal some secret passage he'd previously overlooked.

"Wouldn't it have been more convenient to meet at the castle gates? Apparating isn't possible on Hogwarts' grounds, of course," she pointed out, ever the skeptic. "And a Portkey would need to be specially-made with the headmaster's permission."

Sans gave an exaggerated shudder at the mention of Apparition, recalling his one brief experience with it; if Portkeys feel anything similar, he'd have to steer well clear. "those aren't the end-all-be-all of magical travel, thankfully."

Hermione's eyes lit up, and her fingers twitched like she wanted a quill and paper to take notes. "So you do have a different method! I thought as much, since—"

She was cut off before she could finish, as Sans went ahead and opened a shortcut directly under her feet. Nothing like learning from experience, after all! Right after, with a surprised yelp, Harry was sent through as well.

"i suppose i should tell you," Sans said, taking one easy step from the empty classroom and into the entryway of a completely different building, "that we have arrived at our secret hideout: number 12 grimmauld place."

There were a few minutes of discombobulated limb-flailing, as everyone else had to reorient after the abrupt trip. Including Ron, who was only half-awake after having fallen asleep at the bottom step of the stairs. There had been a blanket tucked around his shoulders, and he was a tad tangled now.

"Huh? Wah, wassit?"

Harry, still on the floor, spotted his friend and laughed. "Ron! Happy Christmas!"

"Happy C'rmas," he mumbled, blearily watching them and rubbing at his eyes. Then he blinked. "Harry? Hermione? When di' you g'here?"

"Harry!" In all his non-canine glory, Sirius swept his godson into a hug. That was fast; he must have been waiting in the dining room. "Happy Christmas!"

This led to a cacophonous round of greetings between the four humans, though it wasn't enough to rouse the building's fifth. Presumably Remus had silencing charms on his room, otherwise they definitely would have woken him up.

It got someone's attention though.

Kreacher was at the top of the stairs, watching the new arrivals with narrowed eyes. His big ears twitched like they wanted to fold back—likely a sign of anger or disgust—but he remained completely, utterly silent as he watched the commotion.

The house-elf noticed Sans.

Stared.

And then, he unclenched his small fists.

"Guests?" he asked. The house-elf's reedy voice found a lull in the happy chatter, and caught everyone's attention.

(Hermione made a vaguely offended noise, and Ron groaned.)

Sirius made sure to ruffle his godson's hair one more time before he turned. "Yes, Kreacher," he said, with a pointed, almost defensive emphasis.

"…Kreacher wills be showing them to their rooms, then," he said, staring with particular intensity at Hermione. "Do not be makings a mess of them."

Sirius scowled—definitely catching some kind of implication, reading it in the house-elf's judgmental almost-glare. Still, he didn't call attention to it. The scowl faded to something more surprised, more curious, as he watched Kreacher lead the three kids up the stairs without another word.

The trio had a few more words, of course, calling back some 'good night's and 'see you in the morning's as they left. And it would seem that Hermione had a few more even still; though, from what they could hear, her questions were aimed at the house-elf.

"Is it weird that I feel sorry for him?" Sirius asked.

"can't fault her for asking questions," said Sans, shrugging. "though i gotta say, it's getting a bit late today for interviews."

His friend hummed in agreement, and the two of them stood together in companionable silence. It really had been a long day.

"…I know that you just said it's getting late for questions," Sirius began eventually, a curious tilt to his head, "But what happened with you? I heard things didn't quite go to plan on your end."

Sans sighed. "i got a lot to tell you."

"None of it good?"

"most of it weird. good or bad remains to be seen."

Sirius snorted, which sounded ironically dog-like. "I guess that's fair." His smile started to look more like a teasing smirk. "Still, I can't believe you got caught. You!"

"i blame sleep deprivation, you can't make fun of me."

"Sans, you sleep all the time."

"and yet, it is never enough."

"On the bright side, it's all behind you now." Sirius took one step up the stairs, set one hand on the banister, and the other waved a grandly dismissive gesture. "Good night and good riddance to today!"

"eh, it had its moments." Sans shook his head. "i'll have to fill you in at some point, but i should get going."

Sirius stopped. "What?"

"right, yeah. i got detention tomorrow."

"What?"

"can't stay." He shrugged. "i have to go to jail for prophecy crimes."

"What? Sans, what are you talking about?"

After a very—big emphasis on that 'very'—abbreviated summary of the whole detention schtick, Sans just shrugged again.

"But—" Sirius frowned, and protested, "Presents!"

"yours is already under the tree, no worries. and when would you have had time to get me anything, fuzz-butt?" It was mostly rhetorical, and he didn't bother to wait for his answer. "besides, you're acting like you won't get to see me for ages. you'll have other chances."

Sirius was still frowning. "But Remus won't."

Sans paused. "huh?"

"And neither will Perkins."

"…did they actually get me something?"

"Did they— of course they did, Sans! I mean, you got them those candies, didn't you?"

"well sure, but—"

"Actually, you hand-made those candies! That basically doubles your gift points!"

"what's your point? actually, wordplay aside, what are you talking about?"

"I don't know, I made that last part up!" He carded a hand through his hair. "Rattles, I know gifts aren't, like, required, but doesn't it make sense that the people you'd think to give a gift might also think to give you a gift?"

"…sure, but—"

Sirius cut him off with a fluttery hand-wave and a shushing noise. "Sh-sh-sh, no. The fact of the matter is, they have something to give you. And even if they didn't, you still have something to give them!"

Sans sighed. "i gotta get back before lunch, but…" He weighed the odds. "yeah, i guess they wouldn't bother looking for me until then."

"Good! You'll have to wake up early, though, so we can get through the gift exchange without feeling all rushed."

With a (mosty) fake groan, Sans remarked, "oh, like i'm not feeling rushed now?"

Sirius snorted. "Just get some sleep, Rattles."

"sleep." He nodded, sagely. "now that, i can do."

Author's Note:

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Undertale.

If they didn't want to be overheard, well, they simply shouldn't have discussed it in physical reality.
Rookie mistake, honestly.

One day late, but Happy Halloween!
Though I really wanted to post this yesterday, it was late by the time it was fully done; I would've had to trust midnight-level reading comprehension with the editing read-through. I actually wanted to get the next chapter for The Undesired Second Chance posted as well—and it's mostly done, which is exciting!—but there's still some gaps to close in its latter half. We're getting there!

I've probably asked this before, but what do you think Sans is getting for Christmas?

The next chapter for Under the Veil will likely be around Christmas time, which is pretty fitting!
As ever and always, thank you all so much for all the favorites, follows, and reviews!

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Stay safe, and see ya on the flipside, everyone!