The Correct Use of Diffindo
The very next day Leon, newly rejuvenated, cleans the dragon's devastation within seconds of casting Reparo. Trees reconnect, turf weaves back together, mushrooms and rocks reattach themselves to their rightful mossy homes. Hagrid claps loudly from behind them, thrilled.
"Blimey, ya did it! An' such a beaut it was, yes it was!" His clapping dies down, but his smile grows, "Dumbledore himself couldn'a done any better, that's fer sure! That potion'a yers ought'ta get you an Order'a the Merlin!"
Leon couldn't keep their grin off their face even if they tried, all mussed up and bleary eyed as they are. The sun hasn't even risen yet.
"You're giving me too much credit." They brush off, tucking their wand into a large cargo pocket, "But, really, I didn't think it would work so well."
Ah, but really - they didn't think anything of it at all. They just did, rather than considered. As it were, they still have nine vials stowed away. They had considered leaving one for Snape, but they hadn't tested it till half an hour ago.
"I am quite curious, ya know," Hagrid starts, shifting on his feet and buzzing with energy at their approach, "How'd ya go an' make somethin' ta give ya such power? How long's it last?"
"It doesn't give power." They respond, shirking off their hoodie and sending it away with a flick, "I just feel.. the way I did a few years ago, is all. Magic wise," they clarify, "not as rusty, or as waning. But, really.. it's hard to say exactly what it does."
Hagrid knits his brows, "Yer tellin' me ya just drank it without testin' it none?"
"Pretty much."
He looks floored. The duo makes their way towards his hut.
"Merlin! Imagine if it'd'a gone wrong! What then?!"
"I would have died, I guess. Worst case scenario." They pull the door open. Hagrid, out of the blue, looks overcome with emotion at the phrase, refusing to enter.
"I best never hear them words outta yer mouth again!" He stoops down to meet their eye. He's so very close, so close that they can see a film hazing over his pupils. Oh, Merlin.
Hagrid's inhale is more of a sniffle, "Why, I couldn' bare ta walk these grounds if- if ya were ta- ta do-" He dabs at the corner of his eye, "Ta do somethin' like that!"
Horrified, Leon scrambles for words. They aren't very well equipped for crying - or anything emotional, really.
"Ah.. I didn't mean it.. like, like..-"
"Ya did!" Hagrid booms, eyes noticeably wetter. Feeling increasingly awkward, they glance around and usher him into his house. The door booms shut.
"Okay, I'm sorry! I'm sorry - I'll never say anything like it ever again!"
Hagrid wilts further, sinking into a chair, "But what if ye think it?!- Oh, blimey, I couldn'-!"
Teeth bared in an uncomfortable grimace while Hagrid weeps, Leon ping pongs their gaze around the room. How do you placate an emotional eleven foot man??
"How can I make this.. less bad?" They outright ask. Hagrid blows his nose into a handkerchief.
"Ya can't! Not now, not ever." He uses the same snot rag to dab his eyes. Leon's skin curdles.
"I can.. do all of the chores today?"
Hagrid shoots up from his chair. The force of it has the table skidding outward. "Bribery! Among everythin' else!"
Leon drags their hands down their face. Gods, they'd take Trolley and the snot-nosed boy over this! So as to not make matters worse, they sit on Hagrid's bed silently while he stews and putters about. Clanging loudly before the fireplace, opening drawers and plucking jars off shelves, muttering heatedly. They sit like a scolded school-kid in timeout, waiting for their rights to be given back.
It takes Hagrid half an hour to right himself out again. He sniffles one final time before facing them. He wipes his nose with his sleeve, mountain of handkerchiefs on the floor behind him.
"Don' ever say anythin' like that again, or I'll send word ta the Headmaster, ye bet I will."
He's one thousand percent honest, and one million percent grave. Leon nods.
"I won't, I promise." Scratching the back of their neck, they add, "I'm sorry."
Hagrid waves the apology away, "No point'n sayin' what ya don' mean." He pulls something from the fire - a misshapen kettle. It's a charming sight.
"Ya can clean the hippogriff pen, though. And flip the mokes." He pours them both a cup. Leon joins him at the table. "An' go shoppin fer Professors Sinistra an' McGonagall. List is in the crock o'er there." He gestures to the door.
They scrub sleep from their eyes. "Anything else?"
"Aye, ya can keep sassin' if yer wantin' fer more." Despite his pointed words, he smiles. It's nice to see he isn't one to dwell. He waves them away once they finish their cup - a warm, spiced cider.
"Keep ya so busy ya can' say anythin' that stupid ever again. Go'on then, use yer newfangled magic and make quick work'a them tasks. Got plenty more if yer wantin'." He bids them a smile as they exit, and despite the discomfort of watching him borderline (full on) weep for half an hour, they smile back.
"Aye aye, Cap'n."
☆
Thus, two weeks pass with their newfangled magic. It does not waver, or turn fickle, or even backfire. Truly, it seems as if they've just tapped into the reserves of their eighteen year old self. They feel as they did before The Incident - which is to say they feel capable. For the first time in a long, long time. They're also finally able to tie their shoes. It feels good to be on stable ground again.
They spend the mornings with Hagrid, attending to his daily tasks. On occasion they work with Professors Kettleburn or Sprout if they need any deliveries or an extra set of hands that Hagrid isn't free to offer. They haven't gone back to the Great Hall to eat, spending meal time cleaning pens or supervising the creatures with a sandwich in hand.
The afternoons are more varied, puttering between general upkeep of the forest, catching up on the creature care Hagrid isn't able to see to - and the last few days they've added reorganizing the shed to the list. Hagrid's home is a mess - but the shed used to store all Gamekeeping necessities? Leon thinks they'll die before they finish their self-appointed task.
They work every other night with Hagrid, making his routine rounds into the Forbidden Forest, crossbow and lantern in hand. There have reportedly been sights of a werewolf the past few full moons - Leon isn't so quick to believe these, considering Peeves was one of the sources - but they do rounds regardless. The last two weeks have been kind to Leon and Hagrid in that regard - they've still got their limbs and eyes and whatnot. Some cuts and bruises, maybe, but that's Hagrid's fault. Leon has never met someone so inclined to clumsiness.
Outside of their routine working tasks, Leon makes a little effort to live.. well.. like a person. (Hagrid had physically pulled them from the moke pen one day after realizing they had been there for three nights in a row. "Yer gunna drop dead, y'are! No workin' fer ye until ya do some livin'! I'll tell the Headmaster if's I've gotta!" ) They now do things outside of what's required - like have tea with Sprout (against their will), clean the bathrooms because Filch had broken his leg (Peeves tripped him at the top of the stairs, or so they've been told), and on occasion they even pester Biff (He spends dinner wandering the halls with a book tucked in his pocket - on account of his secret Expansion Charm - and some sort of wizard puzzle in his hand. When they had asked what it was, he had responded with a name Leon didn't care to remember. They then tried to solve it. All it had done was make them angry, which Biff found hilarious. When they cross each other in the halls during the day, Biff has begun to make a scene - "Watch out everybody, the great Marty McFly has come to grace us with their presence! You better watch out, I hear they've got a mean sense of direction, one wrong step and you'll never be seen again!" They think he's getting a little too chummy with them.)
Hagrid spends a week trying to grow a Redwood tree in his backyard - and on occasion they had seen him glance around before waving a pink umbrella at it. Weird, but whatever. Who are they to judge? After a week of the seedling being.. well, a seedling, Hagrid's visits lessened. Leon may or may not have hit the seed with a little Engorgio charm in secret a day later. It was a treat to watch Hagrid lumber his way over to the now sapling and positively beam.
They refuse to hit it again, though. That tree will be entirely too big if they do. Hagrid seems pleased enough to not bother it outside of watering and story time. "Plants can feel love, aye! Only proper ta treat it like me own."
At one point the Griffindor Quidditch team mysteriously breaks all of their broomsticks, so Hagrid and Leon work to patch them back together (or scrap them when they're a clear lost cause. In those instances, Hagrid sends them to Diagon Alley to purchase another. And then Hogsmeade to snag a bottle of Firewhiskey.) It had taken all day.
All in all, it's been a decent two weeks. They haven't crossed paths with Professor Snape once so they still have all nine vials - but really, they're too busy to feel any sort of way about it. They wish they could see less of Professor McGonagall, though. Their first encounter certainly didn't endear them to her, and their relationship (if that) only seems to be getting worse.
On the off chance that their work relationship may not have been entirely awful, though, Leon has made sure to burn any remaining bridges with their last.. debacle.
"In the day it's been since we've last spoken, it was my understanding that we would not meet again, M-" she pauses, hesitates, raises her chin, "..Leon."
Even the way she sits is stern. Stern eyes, sharp brows, regal shoulders. Her guest chair, on the other hand, is very comfortable.
"I'm sorry Professor."
"Sorry!" At this she removes her glasses to rest below her collarbones. Her severe features are glaring. "You turn all of my students into rodents, and all you have to say for yourself is sorry?! Such carelessness is not to be so casually brushed aside!"
"Well.." They awkwardly scratch an eyebrow, head lowered slightly, "I suppose. I'm not sure what else I would say..?"
"I expect you to take responsibility for your actions." She hurries to say, appalled, "And show some remorse!"
...right. As the Professor continues to lay into them, they can't help but think ah, but is it really my fault?
They hadn't cast the spell, after all - and it was all just a crazy, unbelievable accident. Leon had been moving a large mirror down the hall for Filch (he had claimed to have broken another leg and therefore been unable to move it himself, but he said this while standing perfectly upright), and the door to the Transfiguration classroom had been open - add in one wayward spell and the fact that the mirror rebounds and evolves spells and charms or anything of the sort, well.. you get it, right? Only they would be so lucky.
It definitely wasn't their fault. But whatever. It's fine. They'll take the L.
"..reporting this to the Headmaster!" She finishes, curt. Leon shifts forward in the Professor's unbelievably plush chair.
"Wait, what?"
"You heard me." Professor McGonagall repeats, now poised and unshakeable.
No, no - they didn't hear her at all, actually.
"I-"
"For your sake," she says with raised brows, "you'd better hope he's had at least nineteen lemon drops today." She rises from her chair. When Leon remains seated, mildly flabbergasted, she darts a hand outward to shoo them out.
"Well? We're done here. You may leave."
What the fu-
☆
"It was nice knowing you." They say the second they burst into the hut. Once more Hagrid startles so hard his head knocks into the ceiling.
"Blimey!-"
"It was fun while it lasted, blah blah blah-"
"What in Merlin's beard are ye prattlin' on about?!" Hagrid, hand on his head, crosses the room to stand before them. They flop into one of his rickety old chairs. They miss Professor McGonagall's.
"Dumbledore is going to fire me." They reveal, looking sour. Hagrid's eyes bulge.
"Surely not! I've never met a more fair Headmaster than he!" Hagrid sits across from them, brows worried. "Go'on then, don't leave a man in suspense!"
And so they regal him their tale, omitting the fact that they hadn't been listening to the Professor's admonishing at all. And yes, maybe they had filled in the gaps with their own imagined dialogue.
"And then she called me a gormless slag-"
Hagrid looks so affronted they think he may pass out.
"SURELY NOT!-"
"-And then she had said she had never been so disappointed, and that I ought to stay away from you, lest I rub off any of my dodgy git mentality onto yo-"
"SURELY NOT!!"
They really don't know what "gormless" or "slag" or "git" even mean, but perhaps they had used words stronger than they should have. Presently, Hagrid sits with a dire hand clasped over his mouth, looking as if Rudderash had died. Leon flips their galleon periodically through the air.
"I can' believe it.." He murmurs, sounding almost sickened.
"Ah, I'm just yanking your chain." They suddenly dismiss, flipping their galleon once more, "I'm not actually worried about it."
"I'd never have believed the Professor to be capable of such.." Hagrid, stricken, fumbles for words, "Such.. such blasphemy! Ye don' listen to a word she's said, ya hear?! Y'ain't anymore'a those insults than I am green, now ain't that the truth!"
He rummages through his pockets suddenly, until he pulls out some brown wrapped candy. He urges them to take it. They do so warily.
"I ought'ta give my word ta the Headmaster, such unfairness surely can' kick ye outta here!" He bursts upright, standing, "I won' stand fer it!"
The irony!
Leon unwraps the.. candy? to sniff before plopping it into their mouth.
"I'm sure it'll be fine." They say, speaking oddly slow the longer they chew, "I'm sure.. nothing will.. come.. of.. ...Ha..grid... ...whhhuuss... ...disss.. ..mmpffhmmp..?"
Their mouth will open no more. They jerk to their feet, pry their lips from their teeth, and run their fingers over the ivory. Hagrid pays their panic no mind.
"Nothin' will come from it if I've got anythin' ta say! Why, yer the best helpin' hand I've done ever had! Although," he putters around the room, accidentally shattering a vial of green dust that smokes and disappears, "I guess yer the only hand I've e'er had, so's that won' hold up well. Ah, but I could talk about the repair, aye! An the Abraxian wranglin'! That'll do some good!"
Hagrid spins to face them, so blind to their tooth-locked shock. He grabs them by their shoulders, dire, ignoring their fingers making sharp jabs towards their mouth.
What the fuck did they just eat??
"Don' worry none, I'll have this all fixed up faster'n ye can say Great Jiminy Cricket an' his third cousin, Fibblesworth!"
They have no doubt he's right - because, again, their mouth won't open!
They finally grab his beard and shake him slightly. He just now seems to notice their predicament.
"Oh, yer teeth?" They nod rapidly. He leans back, removing his own hold on them. He waves a careless hand, "Ah, s'jus the taffy. It'll be good an' gone soon enough." He gives them a curt look, "Don't be fightin' it, though. S'how ya loose yer teeth."
As it were, they can only stand, slouched and disbelieving, as Hagrid packs bips and bops into his pockets. They'd like to ask where he's going, what he's doing - why he put half of an onion inside his trench coat - (why he glued their teeth together) but they can't!
"Professor McGonagall's had it harder 'n most this past year, sure she has, but that don' mean she's gotta take it out on ye!" He gives them a bobbing glance between his searching, "Tragic, really - 'er husband's recent passin'. A great man, he were, but the Professor's been all the worse for it. Not that she don' have the right! Why, loss brings out the worst in us. I remember the time I lo-" Suddenly he sniffles, blinking furiously. His voice cracks, "Lost m-me own Bowtruckle t'a dastardly eagle. St-still," he blows his great big nose in a handkerchief, "still think 'bout 'im. Wonder how long- how long he had before-"
Aw, shit. She's mourning? That sucks. No wonder she's been so far up their ass - now they actually are a little worried. Maybe they should think of a countermeasure after all. Really, they hadn't thought her threat would amount to anything - the Headmaster seems unusually wise and kooky - but.. ah.. shart.
They prod the blunt ends of their fingers into their teeth. They can feel the rough, sticky residue of taffy latch onto their skin. Surely there must be some way to force it to release - and why had he given it to them in the first place? They can't be scolded like this.
"-an' then I wen' hikin ta get a supply fer Flitwick, out West alo-"
They can't drink anything, not with their mouth barricaded - so no potions. Can't use their wand either, no voice-activated magic - what wordless magic do they know? Ah! Of course!
They locate the line of taffy across their teeth with their finger. There's a slight gap between their teeth where the taffy resides, and they carefully and slowly drag their finger along its line once, twice. Confident, they return their finger to the start, Hagrid knocking about in the background, and cast a silent Diffindo.
It's a severing spell that requires the utmost precision and knowledge to wield. It is most unfortunate, then, that at that moment a green fire forcefully launches a parchment right at Leon's head. Their finger slips.
"Mother FU-!"