Wannabe (a Hogwarts Hero)

I lock down the fourth curse layer eagerly, not just because this one is fifty shades of nasty (even if I have no idea what it even does) but because I’m actually lured out.

I’m lured by the scent of—

“Is that pumpkin pie?” I demand, leaning toward that heavenly scent and find Lupin holding a plate containing the biggest slice of steamy pumpkin pie ever that he’s apparently been blowing toward my face.  “Oh my god yes.”

“That actually worked?” Snape demands from the lab doorway, looking both amused and baffled.

“The house elves said it was a favorite,” Lupin shrugs, smirking when I snatch the plate over, then snorts when I whimper at the first bite.

“Lovvvve punkin’ pie,” I nod around a huge bite, then shut my eyes to relish it even better.

“Good,” Lupin declares.  “Because I think the elves made about twenty of them.”

I open my eyes, stare at him until I’m pretty sure he’s serious, then shrug.  “Works for me,” I grin, then dive back in.

“And you’re going to need to talk to Tonks,” Lupin sighs seriously, but is hopping up on the accompanying lab table across from my desk while Snape saunters over to lean next to me on the desk.

“About?” I ask suspiciously, then cram in another bite.

“She keeps talking about wanting to formally adopt, or maybe abduct, your friend Annie.”

I snort so hard I nearly choke on my pie and it’s just too delicious to go out like that along with me, so I smile brightly at Snape when he conjures up a cup of water for me.

“Well, you’ve met Annie—“

“She’s very nice,” Lupin agrees.

“She’s like the official Hufflepuff big sister, or something.  She even ‘mom’s’ the upper years; it’s hilarious.”  Lupin stares at me expectantly.  “Really?  You want me to talk to Tonks?”

“Yes,” Lupin says before my last word was quite finished.

I huff a laugh and tilt my head consideringly.  “Bring me more pie later, and I’ll talk her into adopting you instead,” I offer, smirking and this time, Snape snorts with a smirk of his own.

***

Nasty, cruel, twisted little curse.  Worse, because while it skips soul-tampering, not so much with the heart.  It’s an unrequited love curse and I’m stupidly happy to be done with it when I am, then doubly so when it’s Dumbledore waiting for me when I finally finish it off and rejoin reality.

“There’ve been two suicide attempts,” he says quietly and my heart skips a beat or five, then thunders into motion, twisting viciously.  The burn eases by a fraction when I hand off the counter curse, repeating the pronunciation until he’s got it just right.  And tired as I am, I don’t even think of it until he’s halfway down the hall and I’m stumbling into the lab doorway and calling after him.

“The prisoner got loose?” I croak, leaning heavily into the door frame until Moody steps out of my useless little kitchen to half-hoist me upright to his side and helps me stand to hear Dumbledore’s answer.

“No,” he admits, heavy with grief.  “We’re not sure who it is.”

I’m almost glad when I’m all but unconscious in my own bed thirty seconds later.

***

I wake to half a feast in my useless little kitchen and Snape glowering like his will alone will force it all down my throat.  No need, though, because I’m starving.

“How long?” I ask around a huge bite of baked potatoes with Greek yogurt, broccoli, cheese and butter, fuck the rudeness because I’m not waiting to start on the third counter curse and food is fuel.

“You worked this one for only two and a half days, amazingly.  The painter wasn’t surprised and said something about pattern set points.  So you’ve only been sleeping for thirteen hours,” Snape sighs out and looks positively exhausted.

“Have there been more suicide attempts?” I ask, not sure I want to know yet with so much delicious sustenance to devour still.

“Two,” he admits, rubbing at his eyes.

I curse softly, then dedicate my undivided attention to clearing nearly the entire mountain of food.  Snape looks a tad bit amused, but only that with so much ‘heavy’ in the air to pile on top of the exhaustion.

“You look beat,” I comment gently because he looks way worse but I’m not rude enough to say it unless I think it’s more than halfway to killing him.

“It’s been a long week,” he admits, leaning back against the preservation cabinet. “The school governors want additional Ministry protections in the school.”

That sends a chill down my spine and has me sitting straighter.  “Bad idea,” I whisper, shaking my head.  He frowns, but nods.

“Dumbledore agrees with you, but someone’s doing this and we’re out of ideas on who it could be,” he sighs.  “Lupin’s been running himself ragged because apparently, he can smell depression and heartbreak?” Snape lifts a curious eyebrow at me until I nod.  “So we found nine before any additional harm was done.”

“Yeah.  Either Unrequited Love Curse or Broken Heart Curse, which is just so, so wrong,” I sigh.  "Especially for hormonal teenagers."

Both his eyebrows shoot up.  “Really?”

“Yeah… I gotta wonder, though— how is it that they’re getting released at the same time I’m working on their counters?  I mean, Penumbra was a first, but Moody wasn’t far off either.  Most of the kids got actively unwell while I was trance-working, then again with this one?”

“We’re all wondering the same, actually,” he murmurs, looking thoughtful.  Or, he’d look thoughtful if he didn’t look half dead.

“What time is it anyway?” I ask, because my internal clock doesn’t reset until I actually know the time, but Snape pulls out his handy pocket watch.

“One thirty.”

“In the morning?” I demand.  He nods, silent.  Well, it’s my turn now.

“Go get some rest, then,” I instruct with a wave toward the hall and he glowers.  I narrow my eyes and glower back, then slowly grin with a too-wide mouth with too many teeth and I know just how freaky-deranged I look, but I don’t give in.  “I’ll knock you out if I have to,” I growl and now he looks torn between smirking at my audacity and fleeing in fear.  I keep smiling and add a touch of dragon glow to my eyes.

“Fine.”

He stalks for the door and I magic-pile the leftovers onto a plate and stick them in the cabinet before sending the used dishes off to the kitchens with a thanks for the elves with a note to sent a glass of my ‘ick’ in four hours and the night elf responds by sending me a basket of cookies.  I snort but shove one in my mouth, turn and almost jump out of my skin when Snape’s still standing there, watching with a touch of amusement.

“Compliments of the elves?  They really enjoy you being here,” he says, already turning away.

“Of course they do; I’m awesome,” I huff, grinning, then shove a cookie at him, but I’m just ducking into the lab when my wolf ears hear his near-silent parting ‘you really are’.

I’m blushing and smiling and stupidly flattered when I resettle onto my desk, close my eyes to center myself and get to work.

***

I’m close.  I’m so, so close and my arms ache like a bitch but it’s the last fucking layer of this curse and I know something’s going on- something’s wrong but I’m so close—

***

Nearly there.  I’m nearly there and something inside me (or maybe more than one), tugs viciously hard with panic and pain but it’s— ther— no….

Almost.

Al…..most.

There.

I don’t waste time rechecking, magic-whip the counter-curse onto paper while I guzzle two of the six still-full glasses set next to me and it’s bottom’s up that I see the spying mirrors.

Holy.  Fucking.  Hell.

Guess I shoulda seen this coming; it’s an extreme curse that amplifies whatever’s there already which means upstairs?

Pure. Chaos.

***

I check with the castle before I even leave the potions classroom and even that’s wonky; it feels so amazingly protective of its inhabitants, it’s locked nearly everyone into whatever room they’d been in when this whole thing started.  That might be a good thing, if there weren’t so many people who jump straight to panic the second they realize they’re trapped, not to mention moody teenagers that both love and hate their fellow classmates are making for a terrible combination of symptoms, overall.

Thankfully, I can override the castle’s lockdown somewhat simply by soothing it with the knowledge that it’s not alone in its protective task.

“You’ve been amazing through all of this and everyone knows it,” I murmur.  “And now we need to get this counter curse out there to all the staff so we can fix all this, alright?”

And that’s just what we do.

On the basement floor already, I head for the Slytherin common room and am lucky enough to find the Head Boy and Girl right there by the entry and pull off an Oscar-worthy show of how 'the Ministry sent the message with the counter curse and I’m one of the only ones not locked in and can’t they please help me by de-cursing anyone currently in their House dorms?'

They’re Head boy and Girl for a reason and get a quick demonstration on a first year who’s claustrophobia has him panicking so hard he’s gotten sick all over the floor but they're still more than happy to kick the icky Hufflepuff out of their sacred Slytherin space so they can get back to being overly ambitious jerks.

The elves in the kitchens are worried but level headed and more than happy to snap their way from classroom to classroom and dorm to dorm delivering copies of the counter curse with instructions to patronus me if they need extra assistance, so I’m unsurprised when I do get a slightly mysterious patronus of a gentle-looking deer and happily follow after it to the defense room where Snape, Tonks, Lupin and Dumbledore have been locked in— for good reason. 

“Whoa,” I breathe out, seeing Dumbledore looking somewhat… possessed.  As in, he looks genuinely demon possessed again, if demons near-frothed at the mouth and trembled with rage, suspiciously eyeing everyone present, but his fevered eyes lock onto me and narrow the second I'm through the door.  If that weren’t bad enough, Lupin’s no better off, but currently a full wolf and close to rabid, eyes blazing and snarling at everyone except Tonks.  If both men weren’t trapped in their locked circles, I’m pretty sure Snape and Tonks would be goners.

“Are y-you s-sure on the p-pronunciation?” Tonks demands, looking over the paper the elves delivered; she’s shaking like crazy and her eyes are huge, fear factor amped so high that even her eyebrows and eyelashes are white.

“She’s sure,” Snape says confidently, but he’s already striding over, looking openly, honestly glad to see me and then— he’s hugging me.  

It’s such a bizarre occurrence in the moment, I hug back on reflex and then just keep hugging (he’s honestly really, really good at it) and let myself melt into it with a sigh.  I can hear his heartbeat, strong and steady, under my cheek and it's amazingly comforting.  Under the scent of pewter cauldrons and dozens of exotic potion ingredients, his base scent is a mix of iron oak and sweet grass and warm silver and something both spicy hot and bubbly smooth that's all warm affection and fierce protectiveness and soft, mellow joy.

He smells amazing, honestly, and were it not for the dozens of cursed students and teachers, I'd maybe give myself an extra five minutes to simply revel in this experience and let it all sink in until his scent and my own became one for a while.  Alas, there's more pressing things that require both mine and his clear-minded, uncursed attention.

“Sooo, you totally got whammied too, huh?” I finally ask with a sigh.

“Probably,” he admits with his face pressed down into my hair and I hide my smile in the fabric of his robes, nod once and then (reluctantly) pull away while he honest-to-Merlin pouts. (It shouldn’t be cute, given the givens, but it really, really is.)

“Wand,” I instruct, my hand held out and his smile is warm and sweet when he hands it over and I waste no time flipping it, pointing, and enunciating.  “Ahnthrokhos.”

Once met with the dull flash of autumn orange, the curse drips off him in fractions and I move on to uncurse Tonks first, then Lupin and Dumbledore last, though I’m soon wondering if I shouldn’t have done Dumbledore first the second he opens his mouth.

“I knew you were dangerous from the start,” Dumbledore seethes, his eyes icy and cruel and almost deadly in their furious suspicion and… okay, between experience and history, I’ve no doubt he’s been feeling a bit of that for a while.  “Salazar and Rowena were right about you," he tacks on with a sneer.

“Headmaster—“ Snape murmurs from behind me, distressed, but I wave it off.

“Ahnthrokhos,” I murmur quietly and then the jolt of counter-curse, warm orange light jerks Dumbledore into freezing, expression slowly morphing from his enraged fury into newly embarrassed near-shame.  “I know it’s not personal,” I offer quietly, scraping my toe over the spelled line trapping him in place, then release Lupin next, who’s thankfully now human again and nearly-Tonks level of pale with his own distress.

“You two alright?” I ask Lupin the second he’s free and I lean into his arm where his are instantly wrapped around a shivering, still-shocky Tonks.

They both nod a bit jerkily, and that’s good enough, for now.

All four of them look exhausted from the emotional roller coaster and right now, I can totally empathize.

“Castle says there’s at least forty cursed.  As you've likely guessed, it's basically an emotional amplifier,” I explain, handing Snape his wand back while Dumbledore retrieves his own from atop Lupin’s desk, still watching me a bit cautiously.  “But the amplifier… if you know of anyone who’s seemed especially depressed or angry enough to do damage to themselves or others, we should probably track them down first.”

“Could you repeat the counter?” Dumbledore asks with a serious nod.

“It sounds a bit Slavic. ‘Ahnthrokhos’,” I say again, a little slower, then again in syllable chunks until they've all repeated it perfectly.  “The doors will open if reassured we’re there to help, but it might take a minute.  The castle's just as freaked out as most of the students and the other staff.”

“Lets get to work then,” Dumbledore agrees and finally leads the way out.

Snape watches me from the corner of his eye, so I try to look as natural and reassured as I can, brushing my shoulder against his, glad when he returns the gesture.  (I'll never tease him for any of this, but it's nice to know he's just as fond of me as I am of him.)

Still, it’s a long afternoon ahead.

***

Considering the number of duels we’d stopped, it’s a miracle no one is dead.  There might be a few babies born in nine or ten months (amplified love often leads to sex), but we won't be attending any funerals.  The students and staff both are shaken enough for Dumbledore to cancel classes for the remainder of today and the next, and I wonder if asking for a castle-wide, purely ‘fun’ day tomorrow wouldn’t help even more.  Maybe turn the Great Hall into a movie theater or something similar.  Sadly, not even a mini-holiday keeps at least a dozen parents from showing up at the gates, demanding to see their children while a dozen more arrive to take their children home.

For now, I’d just like to get the castle back to normal, which is turning out to be a bit tricky.  Much like the students and staff, the castle can't quite recall when and where it got cursed. (I have the bizarre suspicion that our cursing perpetrator used the castle itself to do the cursing.)

“Alright, big guy, let’s see if we can back trace the problem, hm?  Which floor did the curse start from?”

The castle stones rustle a little while it works that problem out and eventually decides it was a low level, which… isn’t that helpful, but it’s a start.

“Okay, okay,” I sooth, petting the foyer floor of my apartment where I’m half-sitting propped up with my hands behind me.  “And when did you start feeling something wrong, hm?  Dumbledore thinks it was almost the exact time I started working the counter curse.  What do you think?”

This time, the doors creak as it considers, but refutes the timing and thinks it was before then.

“Really? Alright, that’s a good avenue to explore.  Discrepancies are just clues coming to light,” I assure it.

“Have you asked the castle shades yet?” Little Syn asks, still focused on her game. “We really do see nearly everything.”

“Another good avenue to explore,” I agree, grinning up at her.  “Thanks.”

“That’s what we’re heeeerrreeee forrrrrr,” little Wyn sing-songs, eyes sparkling.

“You guys are excellent reminders,” I agree. “Happy moments and all.”

“Not all happy,” little Syn mumbles under her breath, shoulders hunching a bit and yeah, there’s more than our share of horrible memories, too.

“Sometimes we need to make the good outweigh the bad,” I offer, but it's a weak argument because it’s something I’ve never quite managed, either.  “And hard memories—“

“Help prepare us for harder days,” the shades (okay, freaky) from all the hallways chorus all together.

I huff with a smile, despite the tingle down my spine. “Yeah, yeah, lesson learned and still learning.”

“Never stop learning,” little Wyn agrees, nodding smartly.  “That’s what the badger always said.”

My heart twinges a little but I force a smile anyway.  “What’s the best thing you ever learned, then?”

“Flying,” little Syn grins, pushing a bishop into place.

“Spying,” little Wyn adds with a mischievous smirk and I snicker.

“You did have a knack for being sneaky,” I murmur, eyes dropping when my chest twinges a little harder.  “What’s the worst thing you ever learned?” I ask impulsively and they both look at me, eyes going soft and sad and now I wish I hadn’t asked because it’s awful that I’m sure what she’ll say.  And what he will.

“Learning to live without you,” little Wyn says softly and yup, my eyes sting and well up a little.

“Yeah, that sucked for me too,” I croak, nodding.  “And you, missy mischief?”

“Learning to ask for help,” she says slyly and little Wyn snickers.

“How is that the worst thing you ever learned?” I demand, force-banishing my tears.  I would’ve assumed ‘pretending I’m not in pain’ might make the list alongside 'live, human, self-dissection'.

“Because we never learned it very well,” little Syn huffs, but there’s a twinkle in her eye that’s totally a mischief me thing just before her eyes tick up over my head.  “Wouldn’t you agree, Professor?”

“Really?” I huff blandly, both amused and exasperated, but dutifully tip my head up and back to see Snape on the stairs, smirking right back at little Syn.  “You are entirely too quiet for my own good,” I tell him bluntly.

“I’m pretty sure someone silenced my shoes, but only when I’m down here... and I know it wasn’t me,” he snarks back and the kids both snicker.

“Oh,” I sigh, recalling the sound of a herd of cats. “Forgot about that.  Sorry?”

He rolls his eyes and finishes his silent descent while I will his footsteps audible again.

“She’s right, though.  I’m fairly certain asking for help is the least of your talents,” he agrees, but there’s a hint of friendly chiding under the words and now it’s my turn to roll my eyes.

“Probably, yeah,” I agree right back.

“So what can I help with?” He asks, like it’s a terrible chore of some kind, but sincere all the same.

“I’m diagnosing the castle,” I explain.  “Trying to figure out where, exactly, it got cursed and maybe run an echo on it.”

His eyebrows lift.  “Excellent idea.  Have it narrowed down yet?”

“One of the lower floors, which I assume means basement through second floor; anything higher feels like ‘mid-levels’ and ‘upper-levels’.”

“Asssk the shaaaaddddes,” little Syn and Wyn chorus together and Snape smirks, tipping his head at the pair.

“They might have a point,” he says and a brand new hunt begins.