Is Professor Snake Professor Snape's Cousin?
Time flies like a fly over the next week. Buzzing, erratic, leaving Leon hardly cognizant of the world around them. They're given a private chamber in one of the many towers - Merlin knows if Leon will ever be able to tell them apart or find their way back - and they're swiftly put to work.
Hagrid was right about there being too much work. While working as a half-way point for a string of dragon relocations, an Opaleye had managed to get loose and spook itself - and destroy the surrounding area. Acres. They're typically even-tempered, so Leon suspects something must have riled it up to have it devastate the grounds so.
On top of the repairs to the grounds and the rest-stop, Hagrid has received an influx of magical creatures. Hippogriffs, fledgling Abraxans, Porlocks - and even a few Mokes - to name a few. Leon preens, brushes, feeds, clips, and even on occasion plays with the creatures daily. It's been a grueling - riveting - tiring - fantastic - exhaustive time, and Leon couldn't be happier for it.
On another note - they have yet to meet most of the castles inhabitants. Aside from Hagrid, the Headmaster, and Filch - who regards them with slimy, disgusted eyes - they have yet to speak with anyone.
Well - aside from Parsley, the girl that believes them to be part muffin. For whatever reason, the girl had screamed when she sighted them across the hall three days ago, and then wailed - and Leon was half a second from sprinting away before realizing they couldn't truly escape her (and that she was just a child). She lives here, they live here - it's hardly feasible.
Thus, they had awkwardly patted her back as she snotted into their hoodie before class started. They had offered her another muffin to cheer her up and she looked as if she were going to faint. She had revealed she was relieved to see the house elves had managed to put them together again.
Humpty Dumpty much?
The rest of the children aren't too terrible. They play odd games and offer Leon odd candy (Oh, how the tables turn. When's the last time an adult had warily scoped corridors so as to not run into children and their pockets stuffed full of sweets?) Leon isn't sure if it's the muggle clothes that draw the kids in - or the tattoos (or the distinctly-unBritish inflection.) All in all, though, it isn't the worst.
The childish part of them, even, wishes they had gone to Hogwarts for their own wizarding stint. Ilvermorny was a world different than-
Ah, okay - let's think of something else.
They sit now in the acreage of upturned turf and splintered trees, slowly but surely clearing the area of carnage with Hagrid. It's their third full day of manual labor - whereas the other four-odd days were primarily creature oriented. They don't mind the aching limbs and sweaty skin - clean-up has been fun, really - they just can't help but think it could be done more efficiently.
Their attempt at piecing together the tree before them is a bust. Once, twice, thrice more they try - but it stubbornly remains in two. Squatting low, wand loose in their hand, Leon squints. Hums. Stares.
Faintly glowing, they lower the thirty foot tree a few inches. Its jagged edge taps the trunk rooted into the ground below it, but does not mend together. They lift it back up with a flick, twirl it slowly, and move it back down. Reparo.
The torn splints of either end frantically wiggle and stretch, but don't fully connect.
Bullocks.
They sigh, dropping their head. There is a thunderous boom as they drop the tree in turn.
"Blimey! Watch where yer droppin' those!"
"Sorry Hagrid." They half-heartedly project the words over their shoulder. They stare at the stump as if waiting for it to offer a solution.
How.. mildly perplexing. Reparo should work - they had used it to repair a pontoon once after all - so they don't understand the issue.
"Say, Hagrid.." They start; thinking, plotting, planning. "Is there something special about these trees that I'm missing?"
The Earth reverberates softly with his larger-than-life footfalls. They keep their gaze fixed to the predicament before them, but they can feel the man pace the grounds.
East, west. East, west. Pick up a giant-ass tree like it's nothing, haul it across the lot to throw upon a sled.
"Nu'in outta the ordinary, s'far as I knows." There's a thud as he drops another giant-ass tree, "Just some sycamore an' oak. Maybe some yew."
Leon turns to watch him, yards and yards away in the center of the clearing. Hagrid now stands with a hand on his hip, right hand gesturing towards the thicket up ahead. He's winded. "This here leads inta' the Forbidden Forest, as it were." He raises an eyebrow, "Lotta trees in them woods. Lots'a magic. The trees trickle out here some, but none'r any more magical than the stone in my shoe."
At some point he returns to his gathering as he speaks, still maintaining that impressive stature even yards away. The routine sounds of work pick up once more. Leon turns a critical eye to their stump.
They don't get it. It looks normal - and after leaning forward - decide it smells normal too. The wood splinters under their thumb when they pick at it, sinking below the first layer of their skin. They purse their lips. Remove the splinter. Frown.
If there's nothing special about it - then why can't they repair it? Why can't they magic their way out of hours of grueling impossible labor? They can't just throw the damn thing the way Hagrid can - and if they have to muggle tackle this thing they won't be done with it until next spring.
They like the work, they like strenuous activities - but tree clearing is exceptionally dull for a Wizarding School.
Does that make them an asshole? Pretentious??-
"S'it givin' ya some trouble?"
Leon furrows their brows.
"Huh?"
Hagrid gives them a credulous look. It makes him look so damn kind, "Why - yer magic o'course."
All they do in return is stare blankly. Hagrid drags a hand down his beard, staring skyward, pensive - looking as if their issure is the most important thing in the world.
"Ya know, back when I dabbled in magic an whatnot," his hands move dismissively around the air, "It weren't uncommon to run into a hiccup or two. Figured out that magic weren't just mentally taxing, oh no -" He gives them a look, "But physical as well."
They let the words sink in, sounding all too much like a bunch of nothing -
!!!!
"Oh." They pause, blink, "Why didn't I think of that?"
Apparating day after day to arrive, immediately being thrown into the ring, working day in and out with their wand to cater to what needed catering - of course! They're such an idiot! Magic isn't unlimited - they have absolutely no stamina whatsoever these days - and definitely not one hundred and seventy-five hours in to their new magical job.
They recall all of their weird (unexplained) magical mishaps within the last few days. Being unable to summon their corporeal patronus (for fun, and also to show off for a group of curious first years. They had pointed and laughed when Leon failed. Pointed and laughed!), being unable to unlock their door after losing their key (sleeping in the hall until Filch cracked them upside the head with his boot - an accident, he had claimed) failing in their attempt to unpack the entirety of their bag.
Being unable to tie their shoes.
They had been too embarrassed to ask one of the Professors - or Merlin forbid - a child - to 'please tell them how to tie their shoe', and so they laces remain tucked into the neck of their boots even now.
They think of these circumstances, the strenuous nature of their daily tasks, and then - for hypothetical's sake - add in the completely hypothetical caffeine/sleeping draught mix they hypothetically guzzle every night. Compeltely hypothetical, of course.
Sensing the understanding within them, Hagrid's smile becomes pleased. He looks like a bird that's just preened, all puffed up and proud. Gods, he's just the best.
"S'ppose you've got yerself all sorted out?"
One of their knees pop with the speed of their rising. Their gratitude forms an, admittedly, ugly smile.
"You're a genius, Hagrid." They thank. Hagrid immediately turns bashful - as they had intended - and physically swipes their gratitude out of the air before it reaches him. His cheeks glow red.
"Genius - oh no, jus' been around a while, s'all." Still, he can't fight his sweet smile, "Best save those for pleasantries fer the Headmaster."
"I have other words for the Headmaster. Genius is all yours, pal."
They wonder if sleep will do it - genuine, hard-earned snoozing. Maybe, but it'll be slow going. Their stamina charms are more so for physical exertion and less magical replenishment - wouldn't that be great, though? A never ending loop of mana recharge. An Invigoration Draught only works for an hour, and it isn't even worth it with the backlash, but-
-Ah!
"Feel free ta go an get yerself sorted out." There's another Earth shattering boom. Hagrid has returned to work, slowly puttering back and forth. "Not much left out here after all."
Leon hums, distracted by their revelation. "Say, if you leave the trees here I can probably fix them in a few days. Put it all back together." They look at their watch - an accessory an eclectic group of second years seem particularly drawn to - and squint. They look back to Hagrid. "You think I can borrow a cauldron for a bit?"
"I don' see why not." He dusts his hands off, leaning back and wincing as his back cracks, "Can' remember Professor Snape's schedule none, aye - but classes'r so small I don' see it bein' a problem."
Leon squints.
...Is Professor Snape different from Professor Snake - Master Potioneer? Are they the same? Did they hear one of the names wrong? Should they ask?
..Nah, they'll be fine.
"Awesome."
They're already thinking of the ingredients they'll have to borrow to brew. They have agrippa, right? Ashwinder egg.. boom berry.. cinnamon.. Would dragon blood strengthen it? No, not likely.. The Invigoration Draught uses honeywater.. that they'd have to borrow. They could powder a griffin claw and soak it with the extract of a gurdyroot for a stamina potency.. but wouldn't they have to-?
"Speakin' of," Hagrid starts, shattering their train of thought, "Been meanin' ta drop some'a the Professor's supplies off for a few days now. Would ya mind bringin' 'em down with ya? It'd be a real weight off my shoulders."
"Oh, sure." They turn his way, "Where're the goods?"
At that, Hagrid turns suspiciously hesitant.
"Well.. ya see.." Hagrid plucks at his fingers - a juxtaposing sight for an eleven foot man, "'Aven't had the time to gather 'em quite yet.."
Ah. He wants Leon to scrounge them up - because he seemingly forgot about Snak(p)e's request until just now. Two birds, one stone and all that.
They aren't put off by it, though - they've always enjoyed searching and gathering and wandering. Enough to do it for four years - until The Incident stopped them. It's the least they could do to pay him back, too, so they release a crooked grin.
"Don't worry, I've got it. Do you have a list on you, by any chance?"
"Aye!" Hagrid rustles through some pockets before extending a horribly crumpled parchment. They clear the distance to grasp it. The script is - for lack of a better word - bewitching. Slanted, cursive, teeming with gothic personality-
Five ounces Dragonfly Thorax
One Erumpent Horn
One liter Essence of Comfrey
Five vials Flobberworm Mucus
Three Flying Seahorses
One bundle of Jobberknoll Feathers
....
Their brows raise at the exhaustive list. They can't tear their eyes away. Six, seven, nine, twelve, fifteen-
Leon can't help but sound slightly incredulous. "Do you always get requests like this?"
Hagrid chuckles, leaning forward to peer at the list himself, "Goodness, no." He leans away, watching them scour the remaining items, "Part've the Gamekeeper's duties is shoppin' and runnin' errands fer the Professors when they're tied up, but those are far an' few between. My best guess," He raises his brows assuredly, nodding to himself as he points, "The Professor was gonna get this all at Diagon Alley, surely, but couldn't make the trip. Somethin' about overseein' detention for a buncha first years. A food strike, if I recall. A load'a pastries were-"
Leon raises a knit brow, still reading. Hagrid shakes his head to clear his tangent.
"Anywho, said I'd go'on an' get it for 'im, seein' as I was goin' that way anyhow."
At that, Leon stops perusing to slowly trail their head up. They don a shitty little smile.
"Oh, yeah? How'd that go?"
Hagrid waves them away, and they stumble at his (attempt at a) gentle shove. "Alright, enough chatter. Go'on and get, then."
"I thought this was a favor?" They tease. Hagrid stomps away.
"Aye, I've got more favors if yer lookin to pass the time -"
"Nope!" They wave the parchment through the air, "This is fine! Thanks!"
Hagrid's laugh is as loud as the trees. They don't hear the resounding thud as they stalk away, so at least he's leaving the clearing to them.
They look down at the impossible list before them. A few can be taken care of here - knotgrass, moly, moondew.. maybe a horned slug. Most items are native to Scotland - but the ease is overwhelmed by the more.. peculiar requests. Unicorn horn, Occamy eggshell (they weep), Murtlap tentacles, Acromantual-
What did Hagrid do to piss this Professor off?? Surely this will cost a fortune - and all they had wanted was a momentary stop at the laboratory. They loathe to scan the rest. The fun meandering walk they had envisioned is already being tainted.
No, no - it'll be fun. Surely they can do that much.
...
Their eyes trail down again. They can't help but look at the parchment like it's been cursed.
I owe Hagrid, I owe Hagrid, I owe Hagrid.
Gods, why are there so many? Is there another war that they don't know about??
☆
It takes them two and a half hours to collect everything on the list - twenty-four separate ingredients. Most - thank Merlin - were easy enough to find. Fauna from the grounds, furs and eggs and essence from some of the creatures recently transferred, and - unfortunately - some from Leon's personal stores.
They could have gotten galleons from Hagrid, they're sure - but A:
They would have to go find him first - and eleven feet or not, he's impossible to track down.
And B:
They would have to take his money.
(And C: They're capable of doing this much on their own.)
(And D: Sharing is caring.)
(And E: They’d have to go shopping.)
That being said, Leon doesn't have the funds to cover the egregious cost of Snap(k)e's list. Dirt poor for two and a half years because of The Incident - they decided to just take the L and use up some of their own collection. They have more than enough, anyway.
So it's with a heavy heart (and an even heavier collector's hoarder's conscience) that Leon boxes up the myriad of ingredients. They safely stow it away in their bottomless bag, and then they take a minute to browse the courtyard.
They aren't sure which one this is - as they have no room left in their brain to catalogue the school's layout between work and work and.. work.
(And work.)
It's square, boxed in by beautiful renaissance arches and slightly overgrown foliage. There's a giant tree in the corner, bountiful branches spread as if yearning to encompass the entirety of the space.
It's pretty, Leon thinks. They pivot their head and look up at the winding statue behind them. Serpentine tendrils make a globe-like imagery - and it looks very at home with the ornate concrete work of the castle. They turn back around and root through their back, shoulder deep in their search. Jars, a chair, their chest of clothes, a box of cookies- aha!
They pull their camera out - a secondhand Leica M6 - with a triumphant air. The red light glows with the click of the power button, and then they flip the device to face them. They extend it out, slightly below them to capture the statue, and they click.
In an instant there is a flood of noise as students burst out their classrooms like overfilled sausage casings. Leon ignores the clamor to search for their latest captured memory. Their finger glides along the buttons and dials with ease.
Soon the courtyard fills.
"Ah!" One student's shout crescendos above the rest. Pitter patter grows louder until there's a shadow looming over their shoulder. Leon ignores it in favor of gliding through their gallery.
"It's you! The Muffin Man!"
Nevermind. Leon shuts their eyes and internally sighs. Groans. Why had they lied again? And the muffin man - really? Of all the things-
They stop scrolling. "I'm not actually-"
"Hey, hey-" Another voice projects from their right. A short haired boy cranes his head towards their camera, "What's that thing?"
"Don't get so close!" The first student panics, jostling Leon when they shove the other kid out of the way, "He'll fall apart if you touch him! Don't you remember what Patty said?"
Two giant crusty eyes stare into their own - entirely too close. Leon can smell the ladyfingers on this brunette's breath. They jerk away.
"Did it really take five hours and two dozen muffins to fix you?"
The boy shoves the brunette away. "Talk about too close! Are you trying to suck his face?"
Leon clears their throat. The kids turn to stare them down.
"You're both too close." Immediately the children back off. Leon crosses their legs and hunches forward, fighting a scowl. They should have left eons ago. "And I'm not a man, and I'm not made of muffins-"
The boy raises a condescending brow. "It isn't good to lie."
Leon's eyes narrow. "It isn't good to cut people off."
The boy purses his lips, looking miffed. Leon swipes a hand down their face. They're arguing with a child - an actual child! What does that make them?
"First of all," they raise their camera, "This is a camera. It takes pictures."
The brunette frowns. "We know what cameras are."
"Then why did you ask me?"
"Well.." the kid trails off, brows knit, "I just.. haven't seen that camera before."
"It's a muggle camera. That's probably why."
The short haired boy frowns. "Why use a muggle camera? Aren't you a wizard?"
Sure, they could have a debate over muggle vs. magic - talk about the ridiculous segregation of ideologies surrounding either group. Analyze the prejudices of the Wizarding world and the blatantly derogatory stigma it has against muggles, but these kids are probably five. Or.. seven, or something. And they have somewhere to be, anyway.
"Because it's cooler." They grunt as they rise to their feet. Merlin, sitting on that teeny stoop stretched their back out good. They'll have to come back tomorrow, "And because it's what I have."
Like meerkats, the children perk up and cluster around them.
"Is it better than a magic camera?"
"Does it make you look prettier than you actually are?"
The boy shoots a look at the brunette, "Why do you wanna know that? Not even a magical camera could fix how ugly yo-"
Great, bickering. Leon snaps a photo of the boy before he finishes sticking his foot in his mouth. The boy flinches.
"Hey!" He bristles, "You didn't ask for my coh-connnn.." he flings his hands up, "Coooonn -sent!"
Leon blanches. "Why do you know that word?"
Wait, no, it doesn't matter. They find the photo they just took and spin the camera around. The children peer at it. Leon sidesteps to avoid a collision with a running girl.
"See? Totally normal - and very cool. It's just a camera."
The brunette suddenly jams their thumb into the screen. The children dissolve into a fit of giggles. Leon tilts the camera up.
"Why are you?-"
"Haha!!" The boy bursts into full blown laughter now, "You're so ugly! Maybe this camera is- is magic after all!"
The other kid chortles too, giggling behind one hand and pointing with the other, "You have so many chins! And your face is so big!"
Leon snatches the camera away, aghast, "It was a bad angle!"
"Nuh-uh!" The children chime in unison, "You're just ugly!"
How cruel!
"Fine, yes. I'm hideous. Thanks for pointing it out." They stow away their camera and sling their bag back on. They search for the closest way out of this godforsaken courtyard. It's chock-full of kids now. Why did this position have to be at a school? Why are they humoring these snot-nosed things?
"Eeww, you look ugly like this too, Tilly!"
"Shut up! No I don't! - and even if I did, you'd look worse!"
The kids are crouching down to look up at each other now. Leon quickly leaves the scene behind.
"Hey! Where are you going?!"
"Take a picture of Tilly - but make it look all bad like yours!"
Like a snake, Leon winds through the congregation of students and until they are promptly spit out into a hall. The two heartless children are struggling to make their way through the crowd behind them. At random, Leon turns and starts walking.
They give a blank smile to every kid that lock eyes, are forced to accept a chocolate frog from some blonde girl, and swiftly make their way to an empty corridor. Some moments later, a bell rings. The warning bell? Maybe?
Wait, where is Professor Snak(p?)e's office? Or classroom? Or - anything? Where is anything??
Leon purses their lips, looking up and down their hall. It looks like every other hall they've been to.. so that tells them nothing.
Haha - yes, this is great! In this moment they truly wanted nothing more than to get completely lost in the castle!
Leon wipes a weird sweat from their neck, brows knit. They turn left, right, left, right, as if the corridor will bloom with neon signs and lead them where they need to go. The school is magic, after all - so why doesn't it have any helpful magic?
"Mine own! Seemeth to me yond we've did get a dram mutt on the loose!"
Leon jolts, spinning every which way until they find the perpetrator. Not a single living soul occupies the hall with them, so they turn their gaze to the clustered walls. Portrait after portrait they scour, no, no, no- until they're eyeing one blankly, blinking, and then theatrically squinting. No way. No way.
"No fucking way." They murmur, approaching the wall - but oh, yes fucking way, it's-
"You're Shakespeare."
"Aye! Tis I, Shakespeare, in the flesh." The wet, oily embodiment of Shakespeare grasps his chin, "Ah, but truly I am in the oil, am I not? Curs'd to these four walls f'r all of timeth."
No way, no way, no way! How in the hell did they get Shakespeare? No, that's not the question that matters here-!
"Why did you make Juliet thirteen?"
No!
There are exactly five seconds of silence in which Shakespeare stares at them blankly staring back at him. He looks, all of a sudden, caught off guard.
"I begeth thy pardon?"
That weird sweat builds once more. Rolling with the ball they had so carefully dropped, they continue, "You wrote her as a child. In a relationship - that, because she's thirteen - couldn't possibly be consensual."
And suddenly Shakespeare is introspective, "Once more, I begeth thee - pray tell, whatever is a consensual.. relationship?"
Leon, for all of their sudden verbal vomit, is at a loss for words. Their jaw loosens ever so slightly.
"..What?"
Shakespeare parrots them back. "What?"
"No, really - what?"
Shakespeare approaches until only his face fills the frame - and yes, it's kind of uncannily terrifying.
"I has't yet to beest did enlighten to such a bethought."
What does that even mean??
"Did you not have consent back in the twelve hundreds??"
Shakespeare leans back slightly, as if flummoxed, "Twelve hundr'd? Certes thee meanteth to sayeth fifteen-sixty."
Leon laughs somewhat erratically, swiping their curled mess back from their face. For some reason, there's a sudden tension in their neck. Sweat on their brows. Why does it feel like they've been given a pop quiz? N.E.W.T. Edition?
They awkwardly bare their teeth, peering up and down the hall - all of a sudden not privy to explain consent to Shakespeare, "Where are the dungeons?"
"Whatith is consent?"
"No, no-" Their hands drag down their face, rubbing into the pits of their eyes. They scratch off a bit of crust, "Forget about that - well, actually, don't-" Their voice is muffled by their palms for a moment. Sighing, wincing, they drop them. Shakespeare looks woefully curious, "Ask someone else-"
Wait, this castle is full of children!
"Damn it-" They approach, warily scope the hall once more, and whisper to the portrait, "Okay, if I tell you what consent is, will you direct me to-"
Ah, but what was the name?
"The.. uh.. laboratory?"
Shakespeare smiles a gentlemanly thing, tilting his head into one corner to peer down at them. "Aye! I can c'rtainly doth yond f'r thee. Now, bid me, how doest one acquireth consent?"
Leon releases a strangled noise. Palm to their forehead, eyes clenched shut, they are truly the image of a quarter-life crisis. After some time, hesitantly, regrettably, their mouth opens.