Special delivery for roses_at_sunset, part 2 Title: Some Things Begin As Ice Author/Artist: Recipient's LJ name:roses_at_sunset Pairing: Michael Corner/Lisa Turpin Rating: R Summary: A case involving potions analysis force Michael and Lisa to finally deal properly with each other Word Count: ~23,500 words Warnings/Content: None Disclaimer: The characters and situations do not belong to me. No copyright infringement is intended. Author Notes:roses_at_sunset, trust me when I say this is not the pairing I intended to write, as looking at your list the rest were much more suited to my 'norm'. Then, somehow, this happened. I really really hope you enjoy it, because working with characters of minimal canon is a worrisome thing in exchanges, and I struggled with this a fair bit.
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Lisa tried to keep herself walking calmly once she'd let been into the Hogwarts grounds. Her inclination was to hurry, but she tried to tell herself that this was no different than any other case she had been called in on. Everybody was alive, that's what the Aurors had mentioned when they'd Flooed her at the Ministry, and it wouldn't do to seem overeager and gauche in the face of pressure. It wouldn't help her reputation at the department, and it wouldn't help Michael's perception of her either – at least the perception she wanted him to have.
Still, she wanted to get inside the castle as soon as possible.
She gave minimal acknowledgement to faculty as she passed, only a few of them up and about at this hour regardless. She disliked returning to Hogwarts at the best of times, and now she only wanted to get to the headmistress' office.
When she got there, the calmness of the castle was left behind for complete and utter chaos.
There was a veritable crowd of people in Minerva's office it seemed. Her eyes immediately sought out Michael much to her chagrin, but considering the fact he was sitting up and arguing, the churning in her stomach settled to a certain extent. There were bruises and scratches all over him, and there was bleeding coming from his left side which he was pressing a cloth to, and some ineffectual Mediwitch was trying to deal with, though he kept pushing her aside.
Pansy Parkinson was there was well, in a much similar condition – and Lisa's eyes narrowed at her. There were a few professors too, only two that she recognized, with one of them being Neville Longbottom from her year. It was the headmistress who was running the show from behind her desk, but Harry Potter stood stoic at her shoulder, his Auror robes very familiar to her. Lisa sighed internally. He was one of her least favourite to work with, though at least he was very competent. It was gratifying to see him eye her gratefully though when she came in, calm in the storm of the office.
Her eyes drifted back to Michael once more, reassuring herself again that he was fine. Then, she cleared her throat.
"Miss Turpin," McGonagall said, surprised.
"The potions consultant I told you about," Harry said quietly, as the rest of them settled down slightly. Earning a quiet, "Ah," in response.
"I was given minimal details before coming in," she said by way of explanation, making her way over to the crowd around the desk.
"We are fully capable of looking into this ourselves," Michael had barely acknowledged her, which had an odd sting to it, "we are the ones who saw the cauldron, we are the ones who smelled the potion, we...."
"It's policy Michael," Harry was saying apologetically.
"Well bollocks to that," he said crossly, earning him a sharp look that would have cowed them all five years ago from the headmistress.
Lisa was rather surprised. She wasn't used to animosity from Michael. She wasn't used to animosity in general either. Her role was such a peripheral one, and usually after the fact, that she usually faced little opposition. This wasn't like when the Aurors took over from hit wizards, and animosity abounded. She wasn't quite sure what the objection to her presence was. Part of the problem was that she still really had no idea what was going on. All she knew basically was that there had been an explosion at Hogwarts, and a potion had been involved. She only knew about Michael because she had known to press and ask.
"I think you need to realize the objection isn't to your skills with potions Michael and the ability to aid in the investigation," Pansy said in a bored tone, examining her fingernails even as she sat there in torn clothes with a bruised face, "it's to me."
It brought all the attention to her.
"There is no doubt of your qualifications Miss Parkinson," McGonagall began carefully, "but...."
"My character on the other hand?" Pansy said with raised eyebrows, though her voice was cool despite the subject.
Harry was less diplomatic. "I'm glad you weren't hurt," though his tone suggested he wasn't sure of that, "but you may feel free to bugg...to go home. We will contact you if you need any more information."
Pansy looked at him steadily, "Glad to see we've got past childish pettiness Potter."
"Pettiness? You call not trusting somebody who...." Harry broke off, biting his tongue. He was rash, she'd learned that in the past, but he did have some sort of filter. "We can handle this Pansy. Go home."
It was interesting to listen to the byplay, and everything that was being said, and everything that wasn't. Years later, and they were still stuck at Hogwarts, still stuck in the past. Lisa liked to rein judgement on Harry and some of the other Aurors emotional responses – but she couldn't blame him here, not entirely. She hadn't even been there for the Battle of Hogwarts and she couldn't make herself respect Pansy. She couldn't respect anybody who had been allied with Voldemort in any way shape or form.
"We will contact you with the news about the job," McGonagall was still saying things so carefully, but they all heard the judgement there. They also knew there would be no positive news about the potions master position. Lisa wondered how she had got an interview offer in the first place.
"Right," Pansy said, getting to her feet regally, despite her outward appearance. "Merlin, I don't think I could have stood being around such self righteous Gryffindors every day anyway."
A movement from Neville Longbottom caught Lisa's eye. He seemed to be looking at Pansy in assessment, and was going to say something, but Michael beat him to the punch.
"No," he said abruptly, "Pansy is just as qualified as I am, and we all bloody well know it. We know that between the two of us, we have the best shot as to figuring out what's going on with that potion. I'm not letting myself or anybody get the job over her just because she is a bit of a bitch with an unfortunate history, and I'm not letting you kick her out here just because you don't like her. Slytherin doesn't equal evil, and we can't live with those prejudices anymore."
They all looked at him in shock, Pansy most of all.
Lisa felt a pang in her chest for a moment that she didn't want to acknowledge. Michael had been one of the constants through everything. She didn't want him, didn't want that complication, but she was used to him – and used to knowing that he carried a bit of a thing for her no matter how she acted, or how much she kept him at bay. To see him standing up for any other woman, and Pansy Parkinson of all people, burned in a way she didn't want to admit to. He wouldn't do that if there wasn't something there.
She did what she did though now with everything that poked and prodded at her emotional side though. She pushed it aside, concentrating on the moment.
"Mr. Corner...."
"I know, I know," he said wearily at the headmistress' address, "I just screwed up any chance of working for you. But we're not telling Lisa a single thing about what we observed unless we're both kept in on this. Both of us. If you're going to entrust somebody enough to mould the future generations, they need to be trustworthy enough to consult with the Aurors on this. If you don't, there were no points to these interviews anyway."
For a second McGonagall pressed to fingers to her forehead, looking all of her years.
It was Harry who answered, because after all once he'd been called in it was his investigation, "Fine." Apparently he had matured a lot in the last few years.
"Glad you have a backbone to be proud of Potter," Pansy said, and Michael put his head back in frustration.
Harry clenched his hands, but didn't respond to her. He talked to the headmistress instead.
"It's dark magic, but it doesn't seem dangerous yet," he said quietly, "and they need to be here at the school to look into things. Put it out you're having trial teaching periods, with these two first. Keep Lisa on under a similar pretence – most will believe you had other applicants. I'm going to do a search of the castle tonight and start interviewing people here at Hogwarts, and I'll send Aurors and hit wizards by on a regular basis undercover. We'll get this solved no matter what."
They were all going to one big happy potions family under the Hogwarts roof it seemed. Lisa's lips thinned.
"Somebody needs to tell me everything that's happened," she interjected.
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"Lesson plans in addition to nightly research," Michael yawned as he griped. "I'm going to start falling asleep while terrorizing the third years."
"You could go home at any time," Lisa said coolly, not even looking over at him, making notes from a textbook they'd found at the back of the library on dark potions. "You're here at your own insistence."
He wanted to ask what had crawled up her arse and died, but it was Lisa, so he held off. She hadn't just been icy since she had arrived, she had been a downright bitch. It wasn't just Pansy he didn't think; he had done something to draw her ire as well.
Pansy ignored them both.
It was tiring though. As Lisa wasn't a real candidate for the position here at Hogwarts anyway, she was handling all the first year classes, but nothing else. He and Pansy were spitting the rest – him handling all the Slytherins and Gryffindors, her handling the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. He liked it a surprising amount, even if McGonagall kept checking in every hour. However he was tired constantly, not getting a lot of sleep. Most of their investigative efforts were limited to the night time hours once curfew hit for the students.
Most of the castle was unaware what was going on. The Aurors and McGonagall had insisted on that. They didn't even know what was going on; they certainly didn't know who might be involved. Outside of Madam Pince, Neville and Professor Binns were the only other two.
"I finished the list," Michael said, returning to business. He pushed the parchment out for the other two to see. Pansy had waved off trying to do anything with the runes, though he didn't quite believe she hadn't seen any of them, but he had a mind like a steel trap for detail anyway. "Anybody recognize any of them?"
Of course none of them had taken runes at the NEWT level.
"No," Lisa said, though it pained her to admit it, "but I can go get a textbook and...."
"Or we could call in our very own runes expert," Michael snorted, "which will be much more fast and efficient."
Lisa closed her eyes, "This is a low key operation so we don't invoke suspicion from...."
"We have magic," Michael snorted, "and the ability to leave school grounds. I think we can manage to talk with Terry."
"Lovely," Pansy said drily. "More of your kind. It has been such a pleasure thus far."
"I think he's the best option for keeping this confidential to people we trust, unless any of you Slytherins managed a NEWT in the subject?" Michael asked open endedly, knowing full well none of them had.
She didn't respond, but went back to her own pieces of parchment.
Lisa sighed, "Merlin, this is turning into a disaster. I'll consult with Harry and then owl him."
Michael supposed that was the best he could hope for. He felt at loss with Lisa right now more than he did with thinking about whatever the hell was going on at Hogwarts. He usually did, but this was taking it to the extreme. It didn't help that none of them were in their element here, feeling it out as they went along, and trying to coexist with one another. Pansy had been treating him with hostility because he'd dared to stick up for her – continuing as the most contrary female he had ever met. Lisa barely spoke to Pansy, except when she had to, and when she addressed Michael it was with annoyance. His life was less simple than ever.
The bruises had healed with some basic charms, and the Mediwitch who had taken over for Madam Pomfrey had healed up his left side with an hour in the infirmary. Even the most astute of students couldn't tell he had been injured.
They had some guesses at what the substance had been that had knocked him and Pansy out, letting Norman - or rather Norman's impersonator - escape. There were multiple potions that with a charm would produce that sort of effect. Once he finished analyzing what the Mediwitch had isolated on their bodies he'd be able to tell exactly – his midnight brewing experiment, determining potion ingredients with the counters. That substance didn't really matter all that much though.
It was that one in the rune covered cauldron that did.
Michael still had no idea what it was though. None of them did. He didn't know either why Norman had felt the need to brew it in the Room of Requirement when he'd had the lab to work in. Textbooks were revealing nothing, and neither was any of their background experience.
"Describe the smell again."
"Definite bubotuber pus," Michael said, though it had been the twentieth time he was asked. "There was a definitive underlying smell of petrol."
"I doubt he was brewing up a batch of acne control potion."
"However the odour was there all the same," he said evenly, not allowing himself to get annoyed with the vague insult in her tone.
"Bubotuber pus, black beetle parts, salamander blood, and an overwhelming amount of mandrake and pomegranate juice," Pansy said as if bored, not looking up from her papers.
When they both stared at her surprise, she gave a little shrug. "What, I have a greater sensitivity than your plebeian noses." It would have helped if she had mentioned that part a little sooner, but it was true nobody had asked her directly.
Michael had to admit he was impressed, as he hadn't managed that sort of detail.
Lisa stared at Pansy inscrutably, and then said, "I suppose I can see what part of the appeal is."
Maybe he was being deliberately obtuse but he had no idea what she was talking about. Pansy for her part didn't seem quite as confused. A mocking smile swept across her face, "So it's like that, is it then?"
"I don't know what you mean," Lisa said frostily.
"Of course you don't," Pansy mocked, turning back to her work.
Michael decided that he would never be able to understand the ways of women, and simply ignored whatever was going on there and turned back to his books. He wasn't quite sure why though – it wasn't like he didn't know the properties of those ingredients off by heart. It didn't leave him any closer however to figuring out what the combination was for. Brewing with them too would be useless without knowing the steps.
"Bugger," he murmured, shoving the chair back, "I'm going to bed. I'm getting useless."
"Time for me to head off too then," Pansy said, gathering up her stack with a wave of her wand. It wasn't said suggestively, but with a pointed look at Lisa it gave a wealth of meaning.
In the end, he didn't say anything. He looked at Pansy curiously as she got up from her chair, and nodded a good night to Lisa. He shrunk down his own reading material, shoving it into the satchel he had brought along. They left Lisa sitting behind, watching them with an unreadable expression as they walked off.
Pansy walked quickly on ahead of him before he could ask what the bloody hell was going on.
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"That's Dagaz," Terry said, pointing to the fourth rune on the list Michael had been able to recall, "it means breakthrough....dawn. It essentially means 'day', and is strongly associated with life. It's the ruin of transformation."
The four of them had gathered in the Hog's Head pub, where they were most unlikely to run into a batch of students or well, anybody really. It wasn't exactly a popular hangout even now, and would never hold a candle to the Three Broomsticks. Aberforth Dumbledore was content with what it was, and for that Michael was grateful – it gave them a place to meet in relative secrecy rather than a much more complicated solution. They all had ordered a pint as a matter of course, but the drinks sat untouched on the table around them. A dicto-quill hovered behind Lisa's left shoulder, taking note of everything that Terry said for future reference.
Michael pointed to the one that had come up the most frequently, "How about that one?"
Terry examined it, "Berkanon, the rune of growth and fertility. Growth, new life, rebirth – and all that."
"All that?" Pansy asked sharply, not satisfied with his dismissal.
He shot her a look, "Exactly that. Every synonym your mind can imagine."
Terry was better than a textbook. He knew every runic meaning off by heart, how they interacted, and how they were used. After a quick crash course, he had started to go down the list of the ones Michael could remember. The only downside was that he had never heard of runes being used in conjunction with the brewing of a potion. Just like none of them had – unfortunately. The best they could all do was the wildly speculative theoretical, and that was something Lisa couldn't be satisfied with.
Lisa looked down the rest of the list: Jera, the rune of success; Hagalaz, the rune of disruption; Sowilo, the rune of energy.
"How about these last two?" She asked, motioning towards the only ones unidentified as of yet.
"I don't know," Terry looked uncomfortable with the admission, not liking to cop to a lack of knowledge. They all leaned over the symbols, studying them a little bit closer, as if that would somehow impart some random new knowledge. "It's not part of any runic alphabet that I'm aware of."
The Hog's Head was completely silent around them that time of day, while they stared at the two last runes. Lisa felt her head begin to pound. This was far from the sort of thing that she normally dealt with, and while a change of pace was nice, she preferred challenges that she could solve, and solve on her own.
It was Pansy who spoke in a very quiet voice.
"That one is Kriznaz," she said, "the rune of obedience. The last one is Finch, the rune of death."
Three pair of surprised eyes slid her way.
"They're dark magic," Pansy added, as if the meanings could leave any doubt.
Lisa wanted to hex the woman. There were so many things for provocation she could call on. For two days now, she had seen the list Michael had made, and hadn't said a word. There were the petty reasons too, like the fact she managed to yet again know things that Lisa didn't, and the fact she'd pretty much openly suggested she was shagging Michael. Not that Lisa was going to let herself care about that, not really.
"You're just mentioning this now?" She said.
"I was hoping the all knowing expert would be able to tell you," Pansy said, but some of the normal bite was out of her tone, "so I wouldn't have to have the lovely interrogation as to why I know something like that. Perpetuating the myth that I'm evil incarnate is rather tiresome most of the time, if you want the truth." She was trying for flippant, but not quite pulling it off.
"How do you know?" Michael asked, but his voice was much gentler.
Pansy hesitated, but lifted her head, looking at them all defiantly – as if daring them to judge her for anything. "The Dark Mark," she said, "I was there, when they cast it on my father. The final part of the spell, to give more power to the link, was inscribing the Kriznaz rune on the forehead of the skull during the incantation. My father was quite happy to explain – he was so proud of the bloody thing." There was a heavy bitterness in her tone.
"The other," she hesitated only slightly, "I found myself, looking through the books in our library after that day. Dark Magicks, stereotypical nonsensical title. I have a whole other list of magical runes that aren't based on harvests and moon cycles, and whatever other nonsense that come with the light. Not that they're applicable here. You'll be gratified to know that we don't have those books anymore, my family. Not since the Aurors sacked our house properly, and we were left with nothing."
Her hand seemed to be twitching on the table, and all of a sudden she made a tight first before shoving her chair back quickly and getting to her feet. "I need another fucking drink." She was ignoring the completely full pint on the table in front of her.
"That rune, Finch I mean," Michael said, "it was a different colour on the cauldron. Black where the others were red."
"He would have been casting the converse meaning then," Terry said, but his tone was distracted as he too got to his feet.
Life then, Lisa assumed, rather than death - still linked to the dark though, an extra force not given in the standard runes of life and rebirth. Still, what did it have to do with the potion, what did it have to do with anything. They had so much more information, but yet were somehow still so far from the truth of whatever was going on.
Her attention was distracted by the sight of Terry approaching Pansy at the bar. She violently shrugged off the comforting hand that he put on her shoulder, but he didn't leave. He was talking quickly, likely words of comfort, not that Lisa was sure that Pansy deserved them. Still, no matter what feelings she was blinded by, it was obvious there was more to the woman that she initially assumed – she wasn't just the stereotypical Death Eater, if she ever had been one at all. Still, Lisa wasn't going to be the one going over there, she didn't have that much forgiveness in her. Sometimes she wondered if she was capable of the tender emotions at all really.
Terry's hand had made its way to Pansy's shoulder again, and this time it wasn't shrugged off. He always did have a way with women.
"He's moving in on your girlfriend." Lisa said, more sharply than she meant to, to Michael who still sat beside her.
It made her think for a moment too, of Padma. One of these times for Terry, there would be a woman who would stick. At some point, it would be too late for them to get past...whatever they had going there.
Michael let out a burst of laughter, "My girlfriend? I finally get the comments from yesterday."
"Well, you should be the one offering a shoulder," she said, lowering her gaze to the parchments in front of them.
"Relationship advice?" Michael seemed amused.
Lisa wanted to hex him, though she refused to show it.
Michael didn't say anything, and she didn't look at him – didn't want to. Unfortunately there was only so long that she could preoccupy herself with looking over the runes again without seeming ridiculous. When she raised her gaze, he was looking at her assessingly; it made her feel uncomfortable, and made her want to lash out. Unfortunately or perhaps fortunately he was the one who spoke first, not giving her a chance to make herself ridiculous.
"Pansy and I aren't involved," he said, his tone completely serious, "we're coworkers and...I don't know, as friendly as somebody can get with somebody as prickly as her. That's it though – not whatever you're imagining."
She ignored the fact that his response brought a sense of relief. "I didn't ask," she said archly.
"But you care."
"Only in so much as I hate to see a former housemate involved in a destructive relationship."
"No," Michael said, "you care."
He was leaning towards her now, not letting her pull away. At least not physically. Lisa could retreat though emotionally, which was something she did best, and she was feeling threatened enough to do it yet again. "I have never given you any indication to believe anything but casual concern," she said frostily.
"No," he said quietly, "and that's the damndest thing. You barely give a hint you can tolerate me these days, yet I'm pretty fucking sure there's something there."
He really wasn't supposed to be perceptive in the slightest. Then again he was a Ravenclaw bloke, perhaps she should have expected a little bit more. Lisa felt both guilt and panic at his words, but was determined not to show any of it. Michael didn't look like he was going to back away however, or be put off by whatever she was going to say. That shifted the reaction to blind panic, and she stared at him with her mouth pinched, for once feeling completely at a loss – not a feeling she relished.
It was perhaps rather fortunate that they were interrupted by Terry and Pansy coming back to the table.
"Done planning the fastest route to get me to Azkaban?" The woman asked snidely, sitting back down.
It was Michael who tore his attention away first. "Shockingly enough, not every conversation I have revolves around you."
Lisa found herself the one left behind, looking at the spot where he had been gazing at her just moments before. She consoled herself in turning her churning emotions on Pansy. "If you're done indulging your persecution complex, we have work to do."
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When they finally left the pub, it was late afternoon. Terry had taken a room for the night in the town, and the three of them were walking back to the castle. It not being a Hogsmeade weekend, there were no students or others making the trek.
Michael wasn't exactly stealth in his glances over at Lisa. She had determinedly put Pansy between them as they walked, like he would actually try to accomplish a personal conversation with the viper tongued Slytherin around regardless.
"I think they're trying to bring back the Dark Lord," Pansy said.
That certainly drew his attention away from his personal woes. "What?" He asked sharply.
"Think about it," she said, the snow crunching under their feet as they walked, "all the runes. Birth, life, rebirth and growth, energy – all associated with dark magic. And the potion...mandrake is the essential ingredient in bringing back people who are petrified, salamander parts are used for strengthening, so is pomegranate juice."
"Why do you think that it means it has anything to do with He Who....Voldemort?" It was Lisa who asked this time. She couldn't say the name with the same defiance he did, even now. Not after being almost destroyed by it.
"Nothing points that way." He chimed in himself.
"For Ravenclaws you are bloody dense," Pansy said sharply.
"Explain it to the unenlightened then," he said, rolling his eyes.
Pansy paused, but said. "You didn't see them, what they were like – the Death Eaters. You didn't live with one day after day. Most of them would do anything for him, even now. "
"Like you would...." Lisa began.
"No," Michael said, cutting her off with a sharp look, "we're not going there." He might fancy Lisa, but that didn't mean he was blind to her faults. Her irrationality where Pansy was concerned was one of them. He wasn't vain enough to even consider that even most of it was due to him, even if maybe a very small part was. She was this way with everybody who even might have been linked to Voldemort and the Death Eater cause. She didn't bother to look beyond the superficial. Pansy might be a bitch at times, but she wasn't evil.
"I don't need chivalry," Pansy snapped.
Merlin save him from contrary females. "I'm not playing Auror in golden robes," he said tiredly, "just saving us from another snarky fight." He thought they were both going to hex him with the way they looked at him.
"If some people could stop making this personal," Pansy said, "we could discuss this rationally."
For a second he thought Lisa was going to argue, just for the sake of arguing, but she sighed and pressed her lips together tightly – not saying anything. He could see what Pansy's point was, but at the same time he wasn't sure if that was enough to make that leap in judgement. Outside of the fact that Voldemort had been the driving force behind so much of the evil that had happened in their lifetime, that didn't mean anything here. There was no logical link to suggest it. He had been defeated, and the Horcruxes had been destroyed. Not that he knew the whole story, he hadn't been one of that golden Gryffindor trio, but he knew enough.
The Horcruxes.....
"Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem," he said slowly, "one of the Horcruxes. It was destroyed in Room of Requirement. By Fiendfyre."
"Your point being?" Lisa asked.
Pansy had clued in to what he meant. "That was why whoever was impersonating the professor couldn't just brew his potion in the lab. If that sort of link was needed....there had to be a reason he was willing to levitate his cauldron through a castle where he had the potential to run into anybody."
Michael simply nodded, trying to think it through further. It still wasn't proof enough to satisfy his Ravenclaw mind, but the circumstantial evidence such as it was made him want to lean that way.
"If they wanted to do it at the school," Lisa said, "and needed the site of a Horcrux destruction, it would be the easiest one to use I suppose. Though I still think this is grasping."
"Why the school though? There were other Horcruxes weren't there?"
It was a good question, and one Michael didn't have an easy answer for. He had guesses though; if it required a potion of complicated brew, it would have been a time consuming process. They would have been required to brew in close proximity, because it wasn't as if that cauldron could be Apparated with. It was all supposition though – literally all of it.
"It feels right," Michael admitted, "but at the same time, there's no evidence of it. We're still just guessing. Merlin knows Voldemort deserves everything laid at his feet and more, but there's nothing really pointing to his resurrection even being a part of it except very biased gut feelings."
"If we were Gryffindors," Lisa said with a trace of a smile," that would be enough to have every former Death Eater arrested and killed on sight."
Pansy almost snickered, almost. Michael outright grinned though, and not just because Lisa had deigned to make a joke. It was the one thing the three of them could find camaraderie in – poking fun at former Gryffindors. It wasn't entirely off base though. There was an odd kinship between the stereotypical aspects of Ravenclaws and Slytherins that wasn't there between the other houses. One statement wasn't going to make the three of them friends, but it was something that wasn't fighting for once.
"I wish we could duplicate the potion," Michael mused.
"I wish we could have captured that git who was at Hogwarts and tortured him for information," Pansy retorted.
"Blood thirsty wench."
"Practical," she countered.
They both grinned at each other, but it was more the challenging baring of teeth than any real humour.
"If you could stop with your verbal foreplay," Lisa said with frost in her voice, "we have more important things to get on with."
This time Pansy did let out a full throated laugh. "You've really got her knickers in a twist, don't you? I just don't see it," She said to Michael, with raised eyebrows, before turning back to Lisa, "listen Turpin, it's tempting to play along and stoke the fires of your jealousy a little further, but that would mean I have to actually pretend real interest in Michael here – and I'm not sure my stomach is up to the task for an extended period of time. I would say you should let him shag you already so you can stop with the snide comments, but I find I quite enjoy the verbal sparring. Not that you're capable of anything truly witty."
"I don't...." Lisa began, showing a crack in her facade, but Pansy cut her off.
"I don't really care one way or another," she said, walking on up ahead of them.
Michael felt drained. He didn't know what was going on with Lisa, and for once he didn't have the energy to either be cavalier about it, or to push her. He knew that was what it was going to take in the end for her to really talk to him, brute emotional force – he didn't think she was capable of it otherwise. It wasn't an easy thing to do though, and not something he really wanted to. It really might just be easier to fancy her from afar until she found some uptight Ministry bloke to marry she could have no emotional connection whatsoever with.
"We should get back," he said simply, walking on after Pansy.
Like he knew she would, Lisa didn't say anything, only walking alongside him.
Once back on the castle grounds, they walked together in silence. "Meeting in the library..." Lisa began, but whatever she had been about to say was cut off by Pansy motioning quickly for silence.
It was a badly done disillusionment charm - that must be it. For a moment Michael saw nothing there, but then there were flashes of cloaks moving, and of people. They were gathered near the steps that led up into the great hall, but off to the side. What couldn't be hidden though, at least not enough to make it completely invisible against the background in twilight, was the cauldron. Just like the last, there were runes inscribed, but only half the end amount. All of them could hear the murmuring of spells. He had no idea how they had got onto the grounds, but things were more relaxed now, and there were ways around the security of the school as had been made obvious even their time there – and not always used for good.
Michael might have been one of the rashest Ravenclaws, but he would have called for backup of some sort.
Pansy by contrast pulled out her wand with a quick, "Homenum revelio."
With that, there was no hiding the people gathered. When it had simply been parts of people not hidden by the spell, it had seemed like at least twenty. In reality, there were only four of them there. They were all masked in the cloaks common to the Death Eaters, with those bloody masks. It might just be for simple concealment of their identities, but Michael doubted it. They were here as Death Eaters. Not only did he feel worry and a moment of omgwhatdowedonow, he felt a surge of only slightly out of place anger. They were supposed to be past this now, this was supposed to be done, and this was supposed to be defeated. Hogwarts at least was supposed to be safe now – everything they had done was supposed to assure that fact since it hadn't been for them.
One of the Death Eaters slowly lifted up their mask. "Pansy?" He said, incredulously.
Pansy was frozen on the spot, not following through on her former impetuousness with the spell. He could tell that she recognized the man standing there, and it wasn't who she had expected to find. It wasn't her father though – it couldn't be. She might be tight lipped with her history, but he knew the man was in Azkaban, one of the few whose crimes had been serious enough for it.
"Mr. Crabbe," she said, the term of respect sounding odd on her lips.
"You need to help, or get from here girl," he said. His tones were far from the cultured ones Michael came to expect with the purebloods who seemed to comprise the Death Eaters. "If yer anything like yer father though, we could use you. You always had a knack with potions."
Michael had unconsciously stepped in front of Lisa, knowing that attention would be paid to them sooner rather than later. She didn't push him aside, but seemed to be fumbling in her robes for something.
Some of the colour was returning to Pansy's starkly pale face. "How can you be doing this?" She snapped. "Your son died. Wasn't that enough of a sign that you should give this ridiculous cause up? You brought Vince to his death as sure as anything." There was actual pain in her voice. "He was a boy stupidly looking for your approval."
It took him a second to identify 'Vince' as Vincent Crabbe. It shouldn't have though. Crabbe was one of the ones who had relished in giving 'detentions' the year of the Carrows at Hogwarts, and he was the one who had died in his own creation of Fiendfyre. To Michael though, that horrible boy hadn't been a 'Vince'. He hadn't even been human in his mind. He hadn't pictured Slytherins as actually giving two Knuts about each other either, especially the ones like Pansy and Draco – and maybe Blaise, who had always been on top. Apparently they had been just as much a family, and just as capable of being hurt.
"Don't be lecturing me on morality. Not one of your family."
"Right then," Pansy said, her nod stiff. "Right."
"So that's the way it is then? Yer father would be ashamed of ya turning blood traitor. Mudbloods and the like running the world now while the deserving toil. We've got a chance to change that, to bring him back – just need to use the residual magic from three of those destroyed Horcrux things."
It took that for Michael to recognize the site as an approximation of where Neville had sliced off the head of the snake.
"Like he was such a great solution the first time around," Pansy said snidely, "if you didn't have your fucking eyes opened, you...."
"Pansy," Lisa said quietly from behind them, "don't provoke them, I just have to...."
She wasn't given a chance to finish, nor was Pansy given a chance to argue with him. One of the others who hadn't removed their masks cast the first spell. It was an Avada, much to Michael's shock, as Lisa pulled him one way while Pansy dove to the other side. The light of the spell barely missed them.
He was up with his wand as quickly as he could be, but it wasn’t fast enough. It was to be expected though, he hadn't lived a life of duelling dark wizards – he dealt with potions. He hadn't had to be on his guard for years now.
It meant he was simply having to dodge another spell rather than cast one on his own.
For all he had leapt to Pansy's defence before, if he was honest he hadn't expected her to fight here. Not really, not when she had likely history with whomever were under the masks in front of them. Instead though, it was her who was able to actually use her wand while he ineffectually tried to avoid the spells of others.
He kept trying to glance back towards Lisa, to make sure she was okay, but there wasn't time. He could hear activity beginning in the castle, as people realized what was going on.
It was a fire spell that hit him in the end. Apparently not all the Death Eaters were going strictly for death. It hit his cloak, causing his clothes to burst into flames. He panicked, unable to help it. His thoughts were too scattered to cast a proper counter curse, and all he could do was drop to the ground, rolling around, trying to put the fire out.
He was barely conscious of Aurors running in from the front gates, the anti apparition wards having kept them from coming directly in.
It hurt as much as the Cruciatus that he'd born before, more than any hex or hit from the Carrows. No matter what he did though physically, it wouldn't put out the magical flames. He was burning, and he was coughing, and he couldn't breathe, and it fucking hurt....
"Michael," Pansy's voice seemed to come from a distance, "hold bloody still would you." She didn't sound calm though, and Lisa's face floating beside hers looked distinctly panicked. Michael didn't think he would ever see anything like that. It was almost calming to hearing her entreaties, demanding that he get through the spell.
As Pansy murmured the charms, the burn of the flames turned into gentle licks, decreasing his pain – though it took a thousand more Aguamenti's it seemed before the fire was put out after that part.
Between the smoke though, and the pain, he was barely aware of what was going on.
"Knew you cared," he murmured, before passing out in completely embarrassing fashion.