Chapter 68: New Year, New and/or Old Problems
"Be cautious," said the Sorting Hat, issuing its final warning. "And good luck." Then, out loud, "SLYTHERIN!" And one final message as well.
The confused silence of the hall stayed confused. The wizards and witches who didn't know any better – many Ravenclaws and students of younger years – began to applaud in the standard fashion. The new Professor Slughorn applauded, as did other professors – some with hints of apprehension.
Daphne Greengrass, Tracey Davis, and Draco Malfoy also clapped, which prompted some other Slytherins to clap, especially those who had been at the movie theatre, and one or two who'd seen the display at Diagon Alley. But the rest were focusing on the fact that a witch of unknown name and heritage had been sorted into their house. As far as most of Hogwarts knew, a mudblood had just been sorted into Slytherin. (This might not have been so immediately obvious to everyone if not for her especially long Sorting, which had produced the curiosity necessary for whispers to spread the basic facts about her - in Slytherin, those whisperes stuck mostly to the topic of blood.)
Daphne Greengrass confidently invited the girl to sit next to her. Draco Malfoy, who sat across from Daphne – an open sign of unbothered affiliation between Malfoy and Greengrass, and a secret sign of solidarity between Silvery Slytherins – did not stand up and move to a different seat as some other nearby nobles did, to even more confusion, and the beginnings of outrage.
Malfoy would later point out to his house mates, once the really smart people went off to have a chat about it later in the night, that the new girl had spent a good deal of time under the Hat, and thus might have been put into Slytherin because she could be the next Dark Lord. There have been a few Dark Lords like that in history – the Dark Evangel, for example – half-bloods with unknown heritage sorted into Slytherin. Remember that the first act, if not the first debut, of most Dark Wizards tends to involve the horrible deaths of their tormentors at home and at Hogwarts. In general, Dark Lords lash out at their own former house-mates the most, unless someone from another house personally engaged in a lot of their torment. Draco has been taught not to risk being among those victims on general principles, so he keeps his interactions with his enemies largely impersonal if he can, and he is more cautious around his own house than the others, naturally.
One does not step on snakes.
(Or as Father had instructed him years ago, better for your lessers to admire you than hate you, and better for you to use half-bloods than abuse them, lest they lash out at you in vengeance. Your peers will be more than happy to keep them in their place; do it yourself, and you risk their rage, which is not always as impotent as you might expect. Not that Draco still agrees with all the political implications of that advice, but the base lesson, he thinks, is still valuable. Draco did not particularly fear that sharing the heart of this lesson in words would cause others to learn it in any way, shape, or form.)
Jugson snorted. "Her, a snake? A future Dark Lord? Are you serious, Malfoy?"
For those who understandably doubt her potential for all that, Draco supported his argument with the claim – verified by a few others – that she has publicly shown fearless fierceness in the face of speeds faster than the fastest broomsticks, while on the back of the most dangerous foreign power in existence. Yes, it could easily be childish ignorance, but those who saw it claimed it was at least impressive, even if it was stupid.
Marcus Flint pointed out with a hint of subtle malice that perhaps next year she could be the Quidditch team's reserve bludgeon-magnet- ah, beater. Who knows what trouble such a reckless flyer might get up to at practice. Especially a mudblood. (And as a reserve, she'd never see the light of a true match, of course.)
Draco rolled his eyes, then pointed out that if she was really born of mud, why did she already know the controversy well enough to hide her heritage? Most are ignorant until at least the second week of Hogwarts. Some in Ravenclaw don't figure out until years later. She might have a different reason for avoiding the topic of her parents – don't forget that parental abuse is also an early warning sign of dark lords.
Typical of muggles to raise their children terribly, Jugson observed.
She doesn't act like the child of muggles, Draco emphasized. She's as comfortable around magic as any pureblood. She didn't even flinch at the headless haunt, and even greeted one of the ghosts – the headless horse being ridden by Nearly Headless Nick, who finally managed to get into the haunt thanks to his 'new friend' (he pat the horse's side for emphasis). The girl had hailed the horse, not Nick, which answered her back in some gibberish language, and she wasn't phased in the slightest. And finally, Draco Malfoy heard she attended a wizarding event on the day Hogwarts Letters were distributed, getting hers at the same time and in the same venue as the newest Weasley.
With all that in mind, Draco Malfoy intends to err on the side of caution until more of her history is known. He offered her what he considers to be the appropriate amount of courtesy – no less and no more than any new and unknown Slytherin first year. Like his Father did with Prince Excelsior, he's refraining from the vote for now, just in case.
Many in Slytherin wouldn't see the wisdom of his words until the next day, and some wouldn't see it for a good while longer. Some wouldn't ever see it at all, having already made up their minds.
"So," said Harry the next morning. It was five after seven in the morning. They sat in Harry's trunk, the privacy button active, in an unused classroom. "Biggest questions first. We don't have much time until breakfast."
Draco took out a parchment with a few basic questions that, if read by a spy, would reveal nothing. "What metric did you use for censorship?" was the first on the list.
The memory he'd seen yesterday had a number of things Quieted to the point of inaudibility – starting with Voldemort's method of flight, though the memory showed Voldemort asking Harry the question, and showed Voldemort's reaction to Harry's suggestions, which did not reveal the answer, and finally showed that Harry had correctly guessed the secret, even if it didn't reveal what the secret was. ("After all these years, and some amount of reluctant Legilimency, I still do not truly comprehend what is wrong with ordinary people... But you are not one of them." Draco had heard that part, but not the secret itself.)
All of the censored material had seemed to be magical secrets of some kind or another, but when things like the history and nature of the Stone of Permanence were not censored, it left Draco to wonder how Harry had made his decisions, and if Harry had censored anything else about the memory in a less noticeable way.
Plus, it wouldn't hurt to remain skeptical about the memory's veracity, for memories can be fabricated and altered. Draco knows that much; any wizard skilled enough to extract their memory for a Pensieve should also be capable of altering what they remember, which is why Pensieve memories are not admissible in court as evidence.
"Basically, I censored all the magical secrets I figured out for myself. Most were for obvious reasons, like how Voldemort and I can creatively imagine magical ways to take over the ministry in a few days. The flight thing was just a challenge for the two of you." Harry lifted into the air, still sitting cross-legged. "Figure it out for yourselves. If you do, you too could do this. It'll be disabled in Circus battles, but it's a useful ability to have." He was suddenly holding his wand aloft, as if his arm had Apparated into place. "For more than the obvious reasons."
It took an effort for Draco to not be distracted. "Can you have your Patronus say to me that you didn't censor or alter anything else?" He did not ask for Harry to speak to his Patronus in Parseltongue for truth-pressure redundancy, for that part of the memory, "Ssnakes can't lie", may have itself been a lie. (Though truthfully, it'd be pretty cool if it was true- Draco noticed his mind wanting to believe something and tried his best to quash it.)
Harry delivered a Patronus message about the memory's veracity and censorship, with no obvious tricks of wording or out clauses.
"Why didn't you censor what he tried to do to House Malfoy?" Draco asked immediately after.
"Because that which can be destroyed by the truth should be," said Harry. "Er, actually, that came out wrong. I don't mean House Malfoy should be destroyed by the truth, just some false beliefs about the relationship between Malfoy and Voldemort, if you'd been harboring them. Voldemort had plans for house Malfoy, but the lives of the Malfoys didn't factor into his utility function as ends in themselves. Dumbledore cared more about the lives of your parents than Voldemort did, Draco, though I think you can see now that's not a high bar to match."
"I know," said Draco, a little sharply. "I spent all last night coming to terms with that."
"I... see..." said Harry, a bit nervously. "Did you come to terms with anything else?"
Draco shook his head. "Nothing I didn't already know. I came to terms with the fact that Voldemort was perfect for House Black. Sirius or Bellatrix Black would have been happy to hear Voldemort was plotting the death of their elders so they could inherit. But that's not how the Malfoys do it. Or the Greengrasses, which is why they never joined Voldemort in the first place."
"Okay... and Professor Monroe?"
Draco took a few deep breaths. "That I still don't know. I'd like to say the honor of House Malfoy would demand we never trust him again, but it's not like we have a choice."
"You do, actually," said Harry. "You could tell him never to mess with the affairs of House Malfoy again, your father could probably tell him that, or you could ask me to tell him, and he would respect your preferences. I know your brain is probably scoffing at that, but-" and Harry's Patronus began speaking "-it is true, in my honest evaluation of his current character." The speaking entity switched back to being Harry again. "He told me to tell you he's offering House Malfoy an Equestrian apology, which means he's promising never to do that again, and he's offering as much restitution as the crime of plotting your father's demise for your supposed benefit demands of him – enough to make up for his actions, but not overjoy you, lest victimhood be incentivized – which is to plot your father's rise for your benefit. He can't guarantee success, only the plot itself, unless you insist he stop meddling in House Malfoy's affairs, which would be just as fair."
That is certainly going to give Draco a lot to think about. He'll have to make another list. And write a letter to Father. And ask Harry to ask 'Monroe' to make the offer to Father personally, and/or to make a memory of the offer and its wording for careful review.
For now, time was running short, and he had an important pre-prepared question. "I'll have to think about it later. I had one other question I really need answered first."
"It's more important than Monroe's future with House Malfoy?"
Draco nodded seriously. "What's the plan for preventing the end of the world after the statute breaks down?"
Harry blinked in surprise.
"You told me you'd tell me when I'm an Occlumens. Back on the Hogwarts Express, at the end of last year."
Harry blinked a few more times. "So I did. Well," he grinned. "In that case, I guess it's time to tell you..."
After awarding her two points to Slytherin for an excellent display of Transfiguration, Headmistress McGonagall informed Autumn Query that she must stay after class – don't worry, she has done nothing wrong. The rest of the Slytherins in the room, one or two of whom might have received their wands before they received their acceptance letters to Hogwarts, grumbled in jealousy or awe or spite at the mudblood who had probably just become teacher's pet.
But class wasn't over, and Autumn went on to help any student who asked for help, and did her best to explain Transfiguration to her fellow eleven-year-olds in words and concepts and analogies that they would understand. The few Slytherins who managed to swallow their pride early on also managed to have silvery matches before the end of class, earning Slytherin a few more points.
"Yes, Headmistress?" asked Autumn after class had ended and all the other students had left.
Headmistress McGonagall, with a great weariness, said that this is not the first time a student has demonstrated a good grasp of Free Transfiguration on their 'first attempt'. She has come to learn it is because it was not their first attempt. She said that she must have a word with Autumn's parents.
Autumn informed Headmistress McGonagall that her parent situation is complicated, and that Professor Monroe instructed her to direct all such requests to him. He informed her that he would, in his own words, twist time itself to attend such meetings in a timely manner. She then informed Headmistress McGonagall that her upbringing was complicated enough that, yes, she knows what that implies, but they can wait until the Defense Professor isn't actively teaching a class at the same time anyway.
Headmistress McGonagall desired to have her head in her hands at this point. The Defense Professor wasn't actively teaching a class at the moment, so he was brought in right away.
"I presume this is about her skill in Transfiguration?" asked the Defense Professor without preamble.
"And her potential knowledge of Spimster Wickets," said the Headmistress with narrowed eyes. "Please explain, professor."
"Underage magic laws do not quite exist where she grew up," he explained. "Competence and intelligence determine the level of instruction, not age."
"I know of not a single country where that is true of children," the Headmistress said, her voice sharp. "Save the ones that do not have their own wandmakers and cannot even do Free Transfiguration."
"True, while we speak of earth," said the Defense Professor. "But there are now other countries we must take into account."
Headmistress McGonagall's eyes were wide. "But…" she said. "But how is that possible? Acceptance letters do not-" She cut herself off, looking to the student who was present. "Autumn, thank you. You may go."
Autumn nodded and left.
After establishing a privacy barrier, the Headmistress went on. "Hogwarts magic only invites students living on these islands. I was wearing the Hat when it told me her name and location."
The man established a few privacy spells of his own, then shrugged and explained further.
The Headmistress didn't believe him.
The man said that he hadn't expected her to. "If you wish to verify it yourself, you could be the… let's see, three, four… the seventh human to officially visit Equestria." (Circus visits not included, for it's its own country.) "Or if you can hold off until the weekend…" he said, then explained there was already a scheduled visit which she could attend, one that Autumn and her parents would also be attending, and it was only a few days from now.
"And her knowledge of Time Turners?" she asked after she agreed to the date and time.
"An Equestrian mage invented a spell that makes the device redundant. Gifted children who prove themselves in certain ways are allowed to learn that spell, just as gifted children here are allowed Time Turners. Although again, it depends on demonstrated caution and intelligence, not age."
Minerva McGonagall felt a strange combination of interest and dread at the thought of that being true. She found herself wishing with all her being that the Weasley Twins never learn of that spell, or Time Turners in general of course, or if they do, that such a catastrophe does not happen until after they graduate Hogwarts.
"My turn," said Hermione that evening.
Brace for impact, thought Harry.
It's a good thing he braced.
Afterwards, Harry was surprised she was still his friend, and still willing to stay anywhere near Hogwarts, let alone Defense Class.
"Can I ask why you're giving him a chance?" asked Harry at the end.
"Because it's the right thing to do," said Hermione. "After you went through all that effort to redeem him and he went through all these efforts to apologize. And not just to me. I don't promise I'll be polite with him about it, though."
"That's fine, I think. And you, Draco?"
"It's the smart thing to do," said Draco. "Assuming House Malfoy doesn't tell him to leave us alone now that we know we can..." Draco sighed. "But we probably won't do that."
Autumn's abilities in Charms were not quite as good as Transfiguration. She was still getting used to the practice of precise words and wand gestures. She was still getting used to having hands in general. But she was still only the third in the room to successfully warm the water in the cup to steaming, even if she couldn't bring it to boil.
She then went on to help other students at Professor Flitwick's permission. While she had some difficulties in doing the spell herself, she had no difficulty spotting the problems of others.
When she tried the spell again at the end of the class, trying her best to keep the mistakes she'd seen in others in mind, the boiling bubbles proved her own improvement and earned her another point for Slytherin.
"Was Dumbledore really plotting Slytherin's downfall through Snape?" asked Draco.
"Even if he was," said Harry, "and we can get to that part in a moment, I think it's important to first point out that Snape himself was completely ignorant of the potential plot until... well, I think he might have begun suspecting it when Dumbledore said Snape will continue being awful to students in their Fourth year and above. Dumbledore said it was because Hogwarts needs its evil potions master, just like it needs a ghost to teach history, otherwise it wouldn't be a proper magical school, and there are a bunch of other factors to consider in this question, but first and foremost, I think it's important to point out that Snape was being used as a pawn by both sides of the war, and neither use was kindly, often keeping him in the dark and working to end-goals that were mostly against his interests. He became more aware by the end of last year, and once everything was done, he left Magical Britain for a better living and working environment."
In Defense class two days later, at the teacher's order that she fire upon another student...
She reached into her pouch and pulled out a pentagonal packet. She looked to the Ravenclaw contingent. "Ginny, you can have dibs if you want." Then she looked to the wider classroom containing all first years of Hogwarts. "First one to let me shoot them gets a chocolate frog," she offered. "Or you can shoot me back. Not both, though. Any Gryffindors brave enough to take a hard punch for some chocolate?" She looked at her own house. "Or would a Slytherin like a free shot?"
Some of the Gryffindors seemed tempted, as did some of the Slytherins, but nobody raised their hand.
Into the silence, "Really? Nobody wants a chocolate frog?"
"Perhaps they don't trust that you'll keep your word," said the Professor in tones of neutral observation. "You are in Slytherin."
"If I went back on my word, they could just shoot me, which is also my word."
"Perhaps they think you'll dodge."
She frowned. "Aren't the Malfoys and Greengrasses and other Slytherin houses known for keeping their word as a matter of honor?"
The man shrugged. "Not outside Slytherin house. And not all Slytherins can be noble besides. 'Query' certainly isn't a noble house."
Into the subsequent stretch of silence, she sighed. "Ginny, I know you were brave enough to ride Excelsior. Would you mind? I'll cast it as gently as I can, I promise."
At the girl's hesitant nod, Autumn didn't hesitate to cast Ma Ha Su on Ginerva Weasley, nor did she hesitate to hand-deliver the chocolate frog. "I know I said it was one or the other, but you can still shoot me if you want."
"That's okay," said Ginny, accepting the frog and seeming to shrink at the room's attention.
When the Defense Professor awarded her a Monroe point and asked 'Why did you make that offer?', she said that 'roughhousing' is fine so long as there's mutual understanding and voluntary consent ahead of time, and what's the point of being in Slytherin if she can't negotiate her way out of bad positions?
The man nodded, then observed that her offer, now proven true, worked as a means of avoiding recrimination – legal or otherwise. It served as a demonstration of her honor, which a reasonably skeptical person will always doubt without sufficient evidence. And she even gave the potential to prove her own grit, had anyone chosen the retaliatory shot. At the very least, she plays a decent confidence game, if that was a lie. In short, she turned an order to attack a fellow student unprovoked into an opportunity to improve her ethical repute without appearing weak, which is not an easy task. It earned her another Monroe point, and a point to Slytherin as well.
When the professor asked why she ultimately settled on Ms. Weasley, she answered that they were already friends, and she didn't want to hit anyone she didn't know without their permission, and she knows that Ginny likes Chocolate Frogs, so she knew how to make it up to her. Plus she aimed for the foot, and while stubbed toes are painful – she should know – they aren't as bad as punched noses, and they fade faster.
The other potentially dangerous students, when instructed to cast Ma Ha Su, both tried to cast on Ms. Query. Both were dodged, causing students behind her to be struck, and in both instances, Ms. Query immediately asked, "Hey! What did he ever do to you?" and "What did she ever do to you?"
The second time, an additional Ma Ha Su was cast, without permission or instruction by the teacher, and again it was dodged, and again an unintended student was hit.
"Do you have it out for Ravenclaw or something?" Autumn demanded, since both students who had been struck had been Ravenclaws.
"Enough, Ms. Query. Mr. Rosier, Minus Ten Monroe points for firing without permission. Minus another ten for insanity – doing what you've already done and expecting a different result. Minus a further ten for breaking the law without express permission from recognized authority who may, for teaching purposes, allow that law to be broken in a carefully controlled setting. I'm tempted to take a final ten for making an enemy of your fellow Slytherin who has already proven herself somewhat dangerous, but that would be excessive. That's three points you have just lost from Slytherin, Mr. Rosier. In the adult world, we call what you've just done assault, and the punishment is up to a year in Azkaban, with a tendency for certain aristocrats to demand the full punishment against all transgressors. As you should well know. A proper wizard does not allow their emotions to turn their wands to stupidity. Class dismissed."
"You know," said Hermione. "Even though I'm trying to forgive him, I still having trouble getting over the fact that he tried to turn me into your Bellatrix."
"Ah... yeah, about that..."
In potions class on Friday, nothing of particular note happened right away, except that students were not paired together for brewing as some had been expecting. Professor Slughorn never liked that system, saying that it never elevated the incompetent, only dragged down the destined and talented.
Thus it was very clear to the class that, when the Professor announced Ms. Query's potion to be the best, she had done it alone.
Professor Slughorn openly asked how she did so well when the textbooks did not contain instructions for a result that good.
Ms. Query replied that she has been taught to verify what she reads, so she asked a few older Ravenclaws to point her towards the best potions books, then she spent some time in the library comparing the recipe in her textbook to other books containing recipes for the same potion. The recipe she rehearsed to herself before class came from a book with the best reputation for good results, though it's a shame she couldn't rely on anything other than reputation and intuition.
Ms. Query then asked the Professor if the mandatory textbooks at Hogwarts are deliberately sub-par?
Professor Slughorn, with a look of reluctance, took a point from Slytherin for rudeness, then answered that the assigned textbook – which was assigned before he had been hired – is much more comprehensible to eleven-year-olds than the tome she recited. And in the future, please phrase her questions less aggressively and accusatorily. She mustn't indict all of Hogwarts on account of a single example.
Though she was tempted to ask "Why not?", Autumn instead apologized, saying she's sensitive to academic standards. She thanked her professor for handling her question so professionally (which, she's beginning to get on a gut level, is not the norm around here, even though it is almost literally in the name of his title and occupation to do exactly that).
For the span of one hour each day, the names of Light, Azathoth, Belle, Enigma, Superpuff, Chaospuff, Mogi, and Matt could be seen in various Circus games. For the span of two hours, the names of Mithril and Beauty could also be seen, sometimes at the same time as the humans. Madam Chaos could only be seen for a match or two each day – less than her usual time dedicated, some spectators noticed.
Horace Slughorn watched the hushed conversations at his table with a keen eye, a few eavesdropping ears, and a firm knowledge of the rumor mill. "This year promises to be interesting, eh David?"
"It does," said his Slug Club valedictorian one seat over. "Though if you ask any student, you will find that it has fierce competition with last year. And we should probably hope that it does not get too interesting, otherwise the year shall also promise to be a handful. Especially for the Head of House Slytherin."
"Oh I don't mind handfuls," said Horace. "I quite enjoy them actually. You should know that by now, Monny."
The Defense Professor gave him a raised eyebrow. "I suppose."
That was the first moment Horace began to suspect something amiss.
In the past, David had always incorporated 'Sluggy' into an instant reply of some kind or other. The passing of decades can change a lot of things, but habits like those…
Horace paused to collect his thoughts, eating his food to hopefully prevent other professors from striking up a conversation.
The return of David Monroe two decades ago had been great news to Horace, and the rise of 'Lord Voldemort' had been an equally great blow. He had been patiently waiting for his Slug Club champion to win out against his conniving little Tom, who had once asked about Horcruxes, and whose questions Horace had not answered. (He was relatively certain this was not the result of a memory charm, for if he'd been charmed, he likely would not remember the conversation at all.)
Horace had kept entirely to himself during the war, not even risking private meetings. Once 'Lord Voldemort' defeated David, Horace knew he had to go into hiding. He had already been distancing himself from society, keeping his habits irregular and turning away all owls except the Daily Prophet. David's essential death had been the tipping point.
When he learned that David not only returned, but turned the tables over Tom last summer – that David truly triumphed, as the chain-deaths of Death Eaters proved – Horace had been ecstatic. He'd been even more giddy to learn all the juicy details: the Stone, David's tenure as Defense Professor and the effect he had on the students, Harry Potter living up to the memory of his mother, and so on. It was a large part of the reason he agreed to teach at Hogwarts without demanding a pay raise. He could make money on the side as he's always done.
But now…
Now he wasn't sure he knew the full picture. Well, he knew he didn't know the full picture. David must have spent those decades destroying Tom's Horcruxes in private, and he naturally didn't tell the world about it. But Horace was beginning to suspect it was more than just that.
Could David have been hit with an Obliviation at some point in his quest? But that wouldn't have wiped out a habit like the 'Monny-Sluggy' exchange…
Could Horace be overthinking it? Years of habitual paranoia affecting his thinking when they shouldn't?
There was only one way to find out.
"Well," said Horace, clapping his hands once and leaving the rest of his food untouched. "Best save some room for Slug Club. Nice talking with you, David. If you'll excuse me, I've got preparations to make."
The man nodded politely, and Horace left the staff table.
He would not find out now, of course. He'd need time to remember the private exchanges he only had with David, and time to compose his probes carefully, casually, without arousing suspicion.
Tom Riddle did not directly watch his old, pudgy potions professor departing without finishing his plate, but he kept the odd behaviour in the back of his mind as potentially telling.
He then turned his attention back to his own plate of thoroughly poisoned food and sighed. This was the third time, and the first week of classes only just ended.
The second time, he had asked himself if Moody was really this desperate, and he had answered himself that of course Moody would be, but he's not this… stupidly stubborn when it comes to failed tactics. So it was likely someone else who was simply trying to steal the Elder Wand. If so, it probably didn't help the would-be assassin's confidence that 'Professor Monroe' did his checks wandlessly. He vanished the deadly bits without tell as well, eating his 'poisoned' food with casual ease. That wasn't an option this time; there was nothing safely edible on this plate. Or in the cup.
It was impressive on their end that it took three attempts before he discerned their identity, though if he had twisted Time he might have learned right away, and of course he instantly suspected the method they used. While he benefited from the tactic in the past, he no longer likes the fact that the house elves are so easily Confunded. The Imperius cannot be cast without alerting the Hogwarts wards, but the Confundus can. He'd have to do something about that.
For now, thanks to a recently-installed device alerting him to human presence in the kitchen not long ago, and a quick check of the Hogwarts map…
At the Slytherin table, Robert Jugson III, now in his seventh year, heard a good number of giggling girls. He ignored them as he always did, trying not to do anything he wouldn't ordinarily do, trying not to glance at the staff table, and trying to focus on his food to keep himself occupied.
Eventually, he began hearing some snorting and sniggering from the boys around him, which he could not ignore. He looked up from his food and frowned when he found many eyes staring at him.
"What?" he snapped, only to startle at the sound of his own voice, which came out as soft and feminine.
The giggling increased further, as did the snorting.
"Oh," said a lower-year witch whose name he had never bothered to learn. "It's nothing really. Miss Jugson."
That sent everyone into full blown laughter.
He tried to speak exactly once in firm command, then swore to himself that he would never repeat that mistake. He tried a finite on his voice, which failed, and after someone provided a mirror for him to see his own face, he fled the room.
Madam Pomfrey said that she has never seen this effect before outside Polyjuice, which was worrying, and she did not know how to dispel it, which was even more worrying. But it seemed to be utterly non-lethal, which was something, at least.
She called a staff meeting to address the problem of unknown magics in Hogwarts afflicting the students. Nobody had any suggestions aside from the Defense Professor, who asked if he could question Mr. Jugson to see if he remembers encountering anything unusual in the Forbidden Forest – into which the seventh year Care for Magical Creatures class had recently ventured.
Upon Madam Pomfrey's permission, the Defense Professor spoke to Mr. Jugson in private.
Without Madam Pomfrey's oversight, he informed Ms. Jugson that he examined the mash potatoes on her plate and found a foreign contaminant. He then said in a casual tone that all competent wizards check their food before consumption, even when they prepare it themselves, and offered a list of the standard spells that he casts on his own food, as well as the library books that provide casting instructions.
Unfortunately, he informed his student, a staff meeting did not yield any ideas for undoing Ms. Jugson's condition, whatever it is. Hopefully the effect will wear off over time, but if not, it thankfully seems non-fatal. This time. He expects to see her in class on Monday.
The Defense Professor then left the hospital room, humming a merry tune to himself while Robert Jugson's heart beat heavily in her chest.
It was the weekend, no classes, nothing forcing her to be out of her room, but even that was too much. Especially when she started getting hungry, and couldn't bear the thought of returning to the Great Hall. She only managed to go a single morning before begging her parents to take her to St. Mungos.
That proved about as fruitful as his trip to the Hogwarts Infirmary.
The world's best healers also claimed they had no clue how to heal her, although they did find some unusual blue spots on the underside of her breasts that they also could not dispel. Madam Pomfrey had missed those.
When Miss Jugson declared she was not returning to Hogwarts until she was cured, her father took her to the new hospital, the Philosopher's hospital, but only on the condition that if this doesn't work, she will attend classes while they look for a cure.
The staff at the Philosopher's hospital likewise did not know what was wrong with Miss Jugson. When Miss Jugson screamed in frustration and was eventually restrained, the healers informed her father that, as a last-ditch effort before resorting to expensive Stone services, they are going to bring in their primary consultant, whose presence will also be somewhat expensive, but only if he can identify the problem. They can't make any guarantees, of course, and they made it very clear that the price was only for a successful diagnosis, not a cure. Lord Jugson would pay nothing if it stumped their consultant, and he would need to pay more for a cure, assuming the consultant knew how to cure it.
Robert Jugson II nodded at the proposed price and conditions, then signed a contract of agreement to the terms when the hospital reasonably said it was standard procedure.
Five minutes later, that cursed grey pony was examining his son with the dispassionate air of a healer at work, magically lifting a breast to peer at the blue spots.
The pony nodded. "It seems your daughter is suffering from Poison Joke."
"What's that?" snapped Jugson the second, even as the third objected that she was not his daughter.
"A plant from our country," the pony answered. "Nonlethal, even in extreme doses. It performs ironic, magical pranks on those who tread near as a defense against being trampled or eaten. It's one of the few plants we herbivores have not found a safe way to eat, which speaks to its effectiveness."
"So it can't be cured?" asked Robert Jugson II.
"Oh, it can, but I have not supplied this hospital with the counter potion. I did not think we'd need it here. Assuming you do not wish to wait for the effect to wear off naturally, I shall have to buy the potion back home, or commission a fresh batch if none is available, which will take time to brew-"
"How long?!" demanded Miss Jugson III.
"Tomorrow if you're lucky. As late as Wednesday if not," said the pony.
"How expensive?" asked Robert Jugson II.
"Since it's a rush order…"
The pony listed a few prices – the minimum price of the potion, and the additional costs to rushed commissions.
...
...
...
"You said it can wear off naturally?" asked the elder Jugson.
"Father!" his daughter objected.
"I did," said the pony.
"How long?" said her father, ignoring his daughter.
"No longer than two weeks."
Robert Juggson II seemed to consider it.
"FATHER!"
The man shrugged. "Sorry, son. Not worth it."
His daughter's face was red with rage. She was quickly escorted out of the hospital when it was clear both that she wouldn't stop throwing a fit and that her father would not pay for the cure, though he did have to pay the consultation fee, for the issue was successfully diagnosed. Her siblings, waiting outside, laughed when they learned. Her father, still inside, asked how this could have happened if the plant is native to a different country.
The pony had shrugged, suggested that Mr. Jugson ask his daughter that question, then disappeared in a flash.
When he did ask his daughter that question, she claimed she was deliberately poisoned. When asked by whom, she claimed it was the Defense Professor.
Her siblings laughed at the obvious lie.
Robert Juggson II pointed out to his laughing children that it was a real possibility – David Monroe has said before the Wizengamot that he's been to the pony homeland. He's currently the only known wizard in the world who could have acquired the foreign poison personally. Also, the Defense Professor is always a suspect. He then asked his new daughter what could have motivated the Defense Professor to do such a thing.
She crossed her arms and scowled, but didn't answer.
Her mother asked her if she had somehow provoked the Defense Professor, David Monroe, who fought Lord Voldemort and is now peerlessly at the top of the world's most powerful wizards.
Her scowl deepened.
That was the point where her siblings began pestering her to tell them what she did.
Unable to command them in a powerful male voice to stop pestering him like she normally could, she went with a form of the truth. She said she will tell them one hint, and they shall have to figure out the rest on their own and stop pestering him.
They eagerly nodded.
"I took the Defense Professor up on his offer," she said.
After her siblings inevitably asked for more details and she maintained that a deal's a deal and that's all they're getting, her father said, "I see. Was it worth it, Robert?"
"No," she answered.
Her father nodded approvingly. "Consider this a lesson in greed and temptation. There's a difference between an offer and a bait."
For the next three days, and for many days after, everyone with any level of spine and power, including (and especially) those she had formerly considered to be allies, referred to her progressively as "Roberta", "Roberta Loveson", and finally, on Wednesday, just before the effect wore out, "Roberta Loveson the Demure".
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I have lost track of who each of these names are. Can someone help me?
Poison Joke pollen hides as Saffron?
11639006
In order, Draco, Harry (Human form), Hermione (human form), Autumn (human form), Cedric Diggory, Neville, Crabbe, Goyle, Harry (pony form), Hermione (pony form), Aurumn (pony form).
The specifics don't matter too much; the passage is just conveying that they're still attending Circus. The start of the school year didn't change that.
lmao, I get it. The plant gave a son jugs
Teee hee.
So, is the Slytherin standard of "willing to be plotty / sneaky / cunning" so bad that ... "willing to antagonize the most powerful wizard currently known" a valid concept?
And like a good teacher, here's a teaching moment, including all the spells and how to cast them.
Ahh ... so, you now know that you *need* to start using these tests.
Clearly a good teaching moment.
11639029
:) Exactly.
I actually noticed that when I was trying to think up some good schoolyard insults for the situation, and I realized his base name would actually qualify as an insult in its own right. I really should have thought to have a Griffindor say "Nice jugs, son," or something like that, rather than mentally classify that idea as 'failure' because it didn't reach my arbitrary goal of changing his name to something else.
On further review, maybe I should've had Prince Excelsior say clinically that the "joke" is that it gave his son some jugs. Then again, leaving it for people to see for themselves (or read the comments) works too. I missed the opportunity to include it the first time around, fair and square.
this year is turning out to be vary exciting.
awesome chapter.
... this, on re-read, is not normal sorting hat behavior, is it?
Hold on ... isn't this warning exactly what Jugson III did?
11639144
Nah. Jugson didn't make an enemy of Monroe. Monroe openly invited students of Hogwarts to attempt to murder him, offering many points if they succeeded, so long as there was not collateral damage. Jugson III made an opponent of Monroe, but not an enemy. In Riddle's eyes, anyway. Monroe then won the first match, pointed out his opponents mistakes so that he might do better next time, if he has the nerve for there to be a next time, and went on his merry way, having enjoyed a game of plots and lies between Slytherins.
As for Sorting Hat behavior, well, it was perfectly normal behavior in the context of the conversation.
11639013
Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think Superpuff, Chaospuff or Beauty have been mentioned before this chapter.
11639299
Ah, crap. That's my bad. I cut those past parts, then forgot to update this later chater. The Beauty part doesn't matter; it's inferrable from context, but I once intended for at least Neville to have been made the same offer as Draco and his minions (off-screen, with brief snippets of paragraphs describing their fighting styles in Circus). Well, poo. Might have to retcon those parts out of this chapter.
Well, rules are not for powerful people, obviously, but come on, at least be a little shy about it, alright?
11639330
Quick question: why did you have the narrator refer to Jugson with femenine pronouns? It makes sense for the characters, but not the narrator.
Also, maybe I'm missing/forgetting something, but I don't know how Beauty is supposed to be inferrable when it seems to have very little to do with Hermione.
11639363
Belle being French for Beauty ties the names together, plus being grouped together with Harry's name.
11639359
The story in general is told from 3rd person limited, in that I tend to try to tell each scene from a character's point of view, not in the first person, but in the third person. The narrator for the segment of swapped pronouns was, of course, Riddle. He says 'Mr. Jugson' in the presence of the other professors, but when it's just him and his student, he switches to female pronouns. It was also a mild hint to Robert that he = Excelsior, for Excelsior did the same. A safe hint, of course, because he expected it to completely go over Robert's head, which it did.
Even when he's not directly in Robert's presence, you can presume he knows about what's going on, either through devices or invisible observation or even just hearing about it later.
11639363
The 'Belle' alias was originally inspired from The Beauty and the Beast. Also, when giving her name, it was listed alongside the other two young pony/humanmagi.
11639528
Ok, I didn't realize those sections were from Riddle's perspective. Although, this chapter is really making me wonder how reformed he really is. He clearly enjoyed what he did to Jugson way too much, though that's something Harry also deals with I suppose.
Is that the method he used for the Defense Curse in this story?
Also, I just love Slughorn in this chapter. Clearly, he's the smartest/sanest character in all this.
11640004
Nah. I try to be more original than that. To be honest, I should've come up with a different assassination plot for that same reason, as Confunded house elves isn't an original idea. I'm not sure if I WILL come up with a Defense Curse explanation that isn't just 'Slytherin's Lore'; if I do, it'll be original or not at all.
11639992
Meh. Keep in mind he didn't know in advance what prank the poison joke would pull, and that Robert DID try to murder him three times first. With official permission, sure, but still. Being reformed doesn't mean he's suddenly turned into Princess Celestia, or even Princess Luna. He's still a Slytherin. He enjoys playing and winning Slytherin games, especially with other Slytherins who knowingly make the opening move against him.
And for those wondering if his redemption is still in doubt, it's important to have little moments like these, where he's mostly fine, but goes a bit too far when he gets close to his old habits. You know, maybe this would make for a good subject of discussion with Luna in a future chapter. There's a lot of nuance to it, even if it boils down to the game itself being fine, since Robert invited it upon himself, but cruel namecalling is NOT fine, since Robert DIDN'T invite that... well, not from the Defense Professor, anyway. A future chapter will remind readers that Robert, like most Death Eater children, isn't a saint in the namecalling department. But still, it's a minor violation of the silver rule; Riddle should've just left it up to his house to do all the namecalling for him.
11642801
That's about what I was expecting based on the story thus far, but it was a big enough lampshade that I felt the need to comment on it and the Defense Curse was the first thing that came to mind. Also, I don't think it's strange for someone like Jugson to use an "obvious" assassination method—there's no reason for him to reinvent the wheel.
11642842
Fair enough. That's why I mentioned that Harry deals with the same things—you don't need to be a saint to cast the True Patronus. I just thought it was worth mentioning because this chapter is the closest he's gotten to his "old ways" from my perspective (and also the most I've empathized with one of his "victims"). It's definitely realistic, though.
Humiliation at its finest
Gender change, a great prank for the proud of their own gender