Great Collaboration of Doom 3
Chapter Three: In Which Voldemort Arrives at Hogwarts
Dobby was disturbed by the things he had heard. Why was Winky acting this way? What was going on with Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape? There was only one person left to talk to. Professor Hagrid had not been at dinner last night because he had been doing some work in the forest.
Dobby sneaked out of the great oak front doors and scurried down to Hagrid’s cabin.
Dumbledore was fiddling with his dongles when Hagrid, out of breath and rather confused, arrived at his office. The half-giant had been more than confused by Dobby’s explanation, but had managed to grasp that Professor Snape and Twister were involved, so had come straight away. After cleaning up the mess that had caused, he had set off for the castle.
“Ah, Hagrid, I’m so glad you’re here,” said Dumbledore, pulling at his dongles and flicking them. “All the students have been poisoned and I’m going quite out of my head.”
“Jus’ doin’ my job, headmarrsterr,” rumbled Hagrid, in his charming West Country accent. In his spare time he stood in for Adge Cutler at Wurzels gigs. “What’re you doin’ with yourrr dongles?”
“I’m measuring Bowtruckle droppings,” replied Dumbledore, giving them an impressive twist. “Dongles are incredibly sensitive magical instruments, you know. It seems there’s a huge build up of droppings in the dungeons somewhere.”
Hagrid scratched his head with a huge finger. Dumbledore wondered idly whether the rumour about men with big hands was true. He looked down. It was true. Hanging on string from Hagrid’s cuffs were two enormous mittens.
“Let’s get down there,” suggested the headmaster. “Maybe we can lend Severus a… supporting hand.”
*****
Moaning Myrtle was a tad perplexed. Where were all the pretty boys for her to spy on in the Prefect’s Bathroom? Well, technically she wasn’t supposed to use the word ‘spy’, but Myrtle liked to keep an eye on them. You know, just in case one of them slipped on a piece of soap and knocked himself unconscious. As it was, she hadn’t seen anyone tonight.
It was most annoying.
Deciding to explore the school a bit, she discovered that it was deadly quite, so to speak, save for a rather frantic-looking house elf running up and down the corridors. Myrtle didn’t have much interest in the house elves. They dealt with food and that sort of thing and she couldn’t eat food.
She made her way down to the dungeons; sometimes there were students lurking around down there after hours. Well, there wasn’t anyone up on the Astronomy Tower (she had checked), so maybe they were down in the depths of the school.
When a house elf scurried right through her, Myrtle turned sharply. “Watch where you’re going! Just because I’m dead doesn’t mean I’m invisible! That’s what everyone thinks. Myrtle’s dead so she won’t mind! Well, I do mind! How would you feel if someone walked through you?”
Dobby stared at the irate ghost with eyes as wide as saucers. “Dobby is sorry, Miss.” He then proceeded to quickly tell her what was going on in the castle – he had got his explanation down to a fine art.
Myrtle beamed. “You mean everyone might die?” she asked. “Even Harry Potter?”
Dobby squeaked in shock at the ghostly girl’s glee. “How could anyone good want Harry Potter dead?”
Dobby decided that he didn’t like this ghost and became even more determined to help Harry Potter. He scurried quickly to the dungeon to see what could be done.
*****
Snape was carefully adding and mixing the ingredients of the antidote in a huge cauldron. How relaxing to be alone whilst preparing a potion for once. No pesky students, no Madam Pomfrey, just absolute silence.
“Ah, Severus, I see you are busying yourself already. What can we do to help?” Dumbledore had arrived with a frowning Hagrid in tow.
“As a matter of fact Professor, I’ve just finished preparing all the ingredients,” he said, sweeping his carefully chopped mandrake roots into his hand and tossing them in to the cauldron. “This potion is far too complicated for you to make. Only a superior potion maker such as myself will be able to do it. It needs another two hours in order to mature properly, as well as many different stirs, taps and strokes; so I suggest you leave me in peace and go and bother someone else. How about Longbottom in his bath? He must look like a prude, sorry, I meant a prune, by now.”
Dumbledore could not do anything else other than follow this advice, especially as Hagrid was looking at Snape rather murderously for having been so rude. Instead, they left and went down to Snape’s bathroom where they found Neville, still out cold on the stone floor, on his back in all his glory.
Hagrid quickly went and covered him with his moleskin overcoat. “Professor, do you think Winky’s been in here and poisoned him as well, or poisoned his bath water?”
“My, my, Hagrid. You’re very quick today, what’s happened?”
“I don’t know, sir, it may be the same reason you’ve gone all weirdly childish.”
“Which is?”
“It’s not her, sir, it’s ‘others’.”
“I get it. That would also be why Harry wasn’t the one who didn’t swallow the potion! Okay, let’s get to work.” He pointed his wand at Neville’s chest. “Enervate.”
Neville blinked. What was he doing on his back, in the middle of Snape’s bathroom? Why was he covered in what appeared to be Hagrid’s coat? Why was he in Snape’s bathroom? Suddenly it all came flooding back to him and he sat bolt upright, the coat falling off in the process.
“Ah, good,” said a voice behind him. “We hoped you hadn’t been poisoned too. Nice arse by the way!”
Neville twisted around so fast he burnt his bum on the floor.
“Professor! I’ll choose to ignore that comment, but how long have I been out? What time is it? How’s the potion coming along?”
“I’m afraid I can’t answer any of those questions properly as I was not in here when you got knocked out, my watch is in my study and Professor Snape told me to leave him in peace, although he did say it will take another two hours when we saw him. Do you know how it was that you got knocked out?”
“Umm… I slipped on getting out of the bath,” Neville blushed. “I was coming to find you. Or at least, I think I was. I don’t rightly remember.”
“Okay, well now you have found me, in a manner of speaking, and I suggest that you get back into your clothes and we will go and get something to eat as I am hungry and there is nothing that we can do to help Professor Snape.”
With that, Neville got dressed and they went searching for Dobby, Dumbledore politely declining Hagrid’s offer to cook for them.
Two hours, thirteen widdershins stirs, four taps and a stroke later, the antidote potion was complete. Snape took a great deal of pride in his work and, as far as he was concerned, this particular potion was a work of art. There was absolutely no doubt that it would revive the students before the poison killed them, but the idea of waking up all the brats brought a little dismay to his heart.
Still, if they died there would be a lot of paperwork to do, and Snape could live without that, thank you very much.
Dobby was at his feet before he could finish Summoning him. The house elf stared up at him with large, eager eyes, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. He had spent the last two hours watching Dumbledore and Hagrid ballroom dance in the Great Hall for their own amusement (Dumbledore led, naturally), and was pleased to have something other to do than clap politely.
Hagrid was surprisingly nimble on his feet for a man of his size.
Snape sighed. Why did the house elves always have to be so… energetic? “Please inform the Headmaster that the antidote is ready to be administered and that I will require the assistance of anyone who is awake to do so.”
“Yes, sir. Dobby will do that straight away. Dobby is looking forward to bringing life back into Hogwarts, sir.”
“Life?” Snape asked, quirking an eyebrow. “Don’t talk to me about life.”
Dumbledore and Hagrid, with a shaken-looking Neville in tow, came bouncing into the dungeons.
Dumbledore had procured a rose from Madame Sprout’s greenhouses and held it firmly between his teeth, even as it protested and wiggled.
“Ah, Shevvvve…” He spat out the rose and tried again. “Ah, Severus. Well done, my boy. Knew you could do it.” He beamed (though not in the manner attributed to Scotty).
“It was a simple enough potion,” drawled Snape, picking up the rose as it tried to scuttle under a desk. He eyed it angrily and dropped into a glass jar, sealing it up. The rose gave a pathetic squeak and battered against the glass wildly. “Any fool could have made it.” He looked around at the others in the room. “Except, apparently, those left awake.”
“Now, now, there’s no need to be like that, dear boy,” said Dumbledore. “You know we fully appreciate all the hard work you do, Severus. The teaching, the potions, even that little bit of spying on Voldemort you do, though I’m starting to suspect you’re enjoying that a little too much.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Now, we need to administer this to everybody in the school. It only…”
Snape was interrupted by a silvery figure hurriedly materialising through the wall. Moaning Myrtle, as out of breath as a ghost can be, was there.
“Oh, Headmaster!” she squeaked. “It’s a terrible thing. I looked out the window on my way to find some people and I saw all these horrible things lined up on the hills around. I think Lord Voldemort’s on the attack, and he’s brought his orcs… sorry, Death Eaters too! And his Ringwra… no, Dementors!”
Dumbledore looked at his watch. “It’s not June yet, is it?” He tapped his watch, lifting his wrist to his ear to see if he could hear it ticking. “Hmm. Still working. They must be early.” He pushed his sleeve back down, covering up his slightly disfigured hand. “Harry’s not ready for this yet.”
Snape raised his eyebrows. “Shall I go and ask the Dark Lord to reschedule around Harry’s timetable?”
Clearly, his sarcasm was lost on Dumbledore, who said, “Oh, no. No need for that.” He looked at the potion. “I suppose someone should go and wake Harry. And maybe his friends, too.”
Yet again, Dobby was there before they’d even finished thinking his name.
“Dobby, go and wake Potter, Weasley and Granger, they are needed most urgently. Well, more urgently than the rest of the students, although I can’t think why, Potter being as pathetic as he is. It is the Headmaster’s wish though.” Snape sighed. “Here, take this potion and poor seven drops into each of their mouths. Drops, Dobby, don’t kiss them in, I know how much you like him.”
“Ooh, Professor, I can kiss them into his mouth if you want,” giggled Myrtle.
“Oh, not you as well! Am I the only one in this whole, damn castle who does not seem to love Harry Potter!? Geugh!” Hagrid had him up against the wall.
“Apolojoi-ise for thaat,” he roared, with Dobby nodding fervently next to him.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry,” he managed to splutter, then fell to the floor as Hagrid released him.
Dumbledore stepped in. “Umm, look, I know Harry wouldn’t want us fighting over him, so can we get this potion administered before Voldemort starts knocking on the door?”
“Oh yes, Professor Dumbledore, sir,” squeaked Dobby, running out of the dungeon followed by Myrtle who was anxious to catch a glimpse Harry in his pyjamas again. She had rather enjoyed it that time he had accompanied her in the bath, but was disappointed that he ‘had not found time to do it since’. Perhaps he really had been busy with schoolwork.
Or perhaps he just hadn’t taken a bath recently. Since that time, in fact. It was perfectly probable: he had been beginning to smell a lot lately. Not for nothing had the ‘Potter Stinks’ badges made a reappearance.
Snape, meanwhile, was readjusting his robes decorously, glaring at no one in particular. He had rather enjoyed Hagrid having him against the wall, but would tell no one of it. He swept off after the rest of the group, but stopped abruptly as the Dark Mark began to burn on his arm.
He hastily put out his sleeve (when would the Dark Lord learn that while burning Marks were aesthetically pleasing, they were hell on clothing?) and went off in another direction, muttering darkly (in a nice shade of indigo, in fact).
Lord Voldemort was calling, and he wouldn’t be fobbed off with a wrong number.
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Collaborative Fanfic