Severus put a few drops of his potion into Umbridge’s cup while continuing to carry on a conversation with Pomona on his other side. It still felt strange to have to turn his head so far to see her, but he was getting more used to it, although he did plan to look into magical replacements for that eye when he found the time. He’d given Umbridge two days after he’d gotten back before he’d begun to dose her again, but considering what she was getting from the students he wasn’t sure that she even needed it at this point. Apparently her little fit after the appearance of the swamp the other day hadn’t been the first time that she’d ended up in the infirmary being treated for the side effects of hyperventilation—the first time had involved Peeves and some kind of sticking solution. Devon had started laughing halfway through the story, and much to Severus’ annoyance he hadn’t been able to understand more than one word in three of the rest.

As Minerva had mentioned, Umbridge was avoiding the Divination teacher entirely, not to mention Alastor who as far as he’d been able to determine she was actually hiding from whenever possible. Nor were the other teachers helping matters. Severus had gone out to speak to Hagrid for a few moments and he hadn’t seemed overly clear on the situation—probably because he was still spending most of his time with his friend in the forest—but Minerva for one wasn’t one to let a chance at a snide comment go by, and Rhiannon had a habit of breaking into chuckles every time she saw the other woman. And Filius hadn’t been able to bring himself to banish all of the swamp so there was a small section of corridor outside her office still teaming with swamp life that couldn’t be helping her confidence levels.

“How are your exercises going?” Poppy asked, falling into step with him as the meal ended.

“Better, I suppose.”I now only drop about half the marbles.

“Don’t forget that you have a follow-up appointment with the mediwitch tomorrow at St. Mungos.”

As if I’d get away with forgetting. He nodded in agreement.

“And you haven’t been overdoing things, correct? Remember, the connection won’t be fully solid for at least two weeks.”

“I’ve been following instructions, Poppy.” And for a wonder, he had been. The last thing he wanted was to have it become disconnected and have to go through the whole process again.

“Well, all right. I wanted to let you know that you can stop taking the muscle-rebuilding potion. I checked the reports from St. Mungos against what I’ve been observing, and it seems that you’re as healed as you’re going to get.”

He thanked her politely enough as she turned back for the infirmary, but he wasn’t sure just how that statement made him feel. It was one thing if he was finally back to normal, but quite another if he was going to remain at some level of disability for the rest of his life. He hadn’t precisely been stressing himself lately, but it would be nice to know that if he needed to fight—or run—he would be capable of it. You survived a torture session with a full complement of Deatheaters…quit complaining and be grateful that you’re still alive. True enough or not, it wasn’t something that he liked thinking about, and with a shake of his head he increased his pace. This would be Harry’s first Occlumency lesson since he returned, and as far as Severus knew Albus still hadn’t spoken to the boy. He had no desire to deal with a sulky child who was quite capable of pitching him across the room, particularly one he couldn’t legitimately reprimand for it since he had no control over the ability. Well, no proven control…Severus still suspected that he’d been adding force during their last session before his trip to St. Mungos.

Harry gave no sign of remembering their earlier conversation, though, although he did seem a bit distracted as he chattered on about the first Quidditch match of the season. It had been on Saturday so Severus hadn’t seen it. Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff had played first this year since one of Umbridge’s edicts—something idiotic about student organizations, I think—had kept the Gryffindor team off their brooms long enough that there was no way that they could have been expected to be ready to play. The Gryffindor-Slytherin match that was normally played first would be happening in about three weeks.

Severus honestly hadn’t paid a great deal of attention to the different Quidditch teams this year. Normally he would have, if only to have something to twit Minerva about, but he’d had other things on his mind. He waved at the boy to take a seat as he crossed his legs and sank to the floor. “Have you been practicing?”

Harry shrugged and sat down, arranging his robes carefully. “I try, but…it’s like I told you before. When I’m by myself I don’t make anything move when I do Occlumency.”

“Hm.” Severus was tempted to ask whether he had sent Albus flying anywhere, but whether he did or didn’t the only thing the conversation was likely to do was remind Harry of his irritation with the headmaster and his present situation. Not what I want to deal with just now. At least the mutt and the werewolf have returned to the continent if the rumors that I've heard are correct. “Clear your mind, then. Legilimens.”

Attic…attic…at—cupboard, with banging occurring overhead, and—attic. “Excellent.” Not only had Harry managed to redirect him back to the attics, but also Severus hadn’t ended up flat on his back on the floor in the process. He re-entered Harry’s mind without warning and got nearly a minute of their latest Quidditch practice before he was thrown completely out. The youngest Weasley boy didn’t look particularly competent as a Keeper, and unless the Slytherin team had suffered a drastic drop in ability they had a more than fair chance at beating the Gryffindors this year. When Harry realized what he was doing he did end up flat on the floor half a meter from where he’d been, but at least he hadn’t been tossed into the wall this time. “And that was better as well.”

“I still don’t think it’s fair,” the boy grumbled.

“Very little in this war is fair.” As you should well know, even if Albus is being ridiculous. “Now, again.”

They continued the lesson a bit past the usual time, until both of them were too tired to continue, but Severus was generally pleased with the progress that had been made. He was still getting thrown about, but at least he was getting thrown about across shorter distances. “Next Tuesday at the usual time. And cont—where the bloody hell did that come from?”

Harry turned an interesting shade of red and snatched the snake up off the floor, hissing at it as he stuck it into his cloak pocket.

“Mr. Potter?”

“Sorry, Professor.”

“New friends?”

“They’re, uh, helping me with something.”

They? As in more than one? Being carried around in his pockets? Apparently Potter was more persuasive when speaking with snakes than he was with people if he’d gotten them to accept that situation. “Indeed? And what would ‘something’ be?”

“Nothing, really. Just…I need them for Umbridge.”

He was half-tempted to press, find out what the boy was talking the snakes into doing, but this seemed to be a case of the less known the better. Besides, if it works I’ll no doubt hear about it soon enough. “Just make sure that you take all of your little friends with you when you leave.” The fact that they were his house’s mascot didn’t mean that he wanted to have them slithering about in his quarters. “And be careful when you choose to speak to them.” He didn’t doubt that the fact that someone at the Ministry knew that Harry was a Parseltongue—it would have been impossible to keep secret after his little demonstration during the dueling club a few years back—but whether or not Umbridge was personally aware of his ability…. “And practice your Occlumency.”

Harry nodded, and Severus let him out of his quarters and turned for his room. Normally he wouldn’t go to bed so early, but he was tired. And there was the visit to St. Mungos tomorrow to look forward to. They’d told him that he’d need to come back several times for check-ups since they were allowing him to leave earlier than normal, but that didn’t mean that he had to like it. I suspect that they only allowed me to leave early because they were tired of dealing with me anyway.

A heavy banging on his door woke him a good two hours before breakfast would be served, and shrugging on a robe over his nightclothes he headed into his sitting room and snapped at the visitor to enter. Albus wouldn’t have bothered knocking, and he couldn’t think who else might be looking for him at this time. When he’d been Head-of-House there had always been the possibility of a sick or injured student, but….

“I need Doxycide,” Alastor snapped back as soon as the panel swung open.

“Pardon?” Of all the requests that he would have expected at this hideously early hour of the morning, that was not one that would have occurred to him.

“Doxycide,” the ex-Auror repeated shortly. “Far as I can figure someone thought it would be funny to put half a dozen of them in Umbridge’s office, but the little idiot didn’t think to seal the window. Two of the bloody things flew out and down into my chambers. Tried to zap ‘em, but it didn’t even slow the buggers down.”

Severus tried to hide a smirk as he recognized a few bites on the other wizard’s face and arms—they were fairly obvious if you knew what you were looking for—and did his best to reply in an even tone. “It appears that you could use a supply of the venom antidote as well.”

“Rather get the things out of my quarters first and deal with the results later.”

“I’m not even sure I have Doxycide on hand, but….” He shook his head and stepped out into the corridor, motioning for Alastor to accompany him to the supply room. Doxycide wasn’t something that there would normally be any need for at Hogwarts—it was far enough north that the little creatures weren’t comfortable here—but there were plenty of things kept in the storeroom that weren’t used every day. Or even every decade. “I take it that your window wasn’t sealed either?” he asked as he began to rummage around on one of the lower shelves. “That doesn’t seem particularly vigilant.”

There was a growl from behind him, and although he hadn’t heard anything that indicated that the older wizard had drawn his wand Severus wouldn’t put it past him. “Watch your tongue, boy. It’s shielded against wizards, wands, spells, animagi, owls, potion mists, and half a dozen classes of dangerous magical creatures. Biting fairies didn’t make that list.” He was silent for a moment. “Although they very well might from now on. Things are bloody nuisances.”

“Hm.” Severus considered pressing the point—surely it would have been easier to simply seal the window entirely rather than be so selective—but he didn’t want any spells flying about in his storeroom. “If I’ve got any, it’ll be back…ah.” He pulled out a small canister. The liquid was blue-black rather than solid black, but it looked to be approximately the right consistency and when he unscrewed the top it had the correct strongly-acidic smell. “Well, you can try this. It’s old, but it might at least slow them down. No venom antidote, though, you’ll have to ask Poppy for that.” If nothing else, she’ll be able to get some from St. Mungos fairly quickly, although it would be amusing to watch him try and explain the marks to one of his classes…how he was bested by two fairies smaller than your average owl.

“Hmph.” Alastor took the bottle grunted something that could—if one was charitable—be interpreted as thanks, nodding slightly before turning to make way up out of the dungeons.

“You’re welcome,” Severus muttered after him before resealing the storeroom and returning to his quarters. He wasn’t likely to sleep again before it was time to be up and dressing for breakfast, so he summoned that bloody jar of marbles and began to shift them around.

Breakfast began quietly enough, toast and eggs sparkled in right on time and Rolanda was more than happy to discuss the recent Quidditch match with him. Apparently the new Hufflepuff seeker was something to see, and Ravenclaw’s beaters were working together particularly well this year. He was pouring himself another glass of pumpkin juice when there was a shriek and Umbridge pelted down the length of the Great Hall with two little black creatures following hard on her heels and making dives at her skirts.

“Well, they do infest drapes,” Rolanda observed between shrieks as the new arrival finally came to a halt in front of the High Table. “I suppose I can see the resemblance.”

“It’s the crumple-horned snorkacks!” Umbridge managed to cry in fairly understandable English.

“Oh, nonsense,” Minerva said firmly. “They’re nothing but Doxies.”

“Where did you find Doxies at Hogwarts?” Filius asked.

“I went into my office to pick up my schedule for the day and they were—eek!” She leapt aside as one of them tried to crawl up her skirt rather than burrow in from above. “There were at least twenty of them, all around the window. I tried to shoo them out, but it was sealed, and—” Another leap to the side and a vicious bat at the nearest with her hat. “Help me!”

“Severus?” Albus asked.

“I believe I can say with some certainty that I haven’t any Doxycide in my storeroom at the moment, but I’ll be more than happy to check.” He managed a casual glance in Alastor’s direction, keeping it casual more by force of will than anything else, and caught a flash of amusement in the true eye that flicked towards him for a fraction of a second before rejoining the magical one as it focused on the High Inquisitor. Severus looked down before his whole expression gave him away…that Alastor would harass the woman he had no doubt, but that he would help seal biting fairies in her office was not something that he would have expected of the ex-Auror. Umbridge was still swatting at the Doxies, and he stood. “If you’ll excuse me.”

The canister of Doxycide was back on the shelf where it had rested previously, but the level of liquid was much lower. Hm. I didn’t realize that there was a counter for the Proprius Obfirmo, at least not without the password. It’s supposed to be a permanent locking spell after all. But then, he was an Auror for at least a bit longer than I’ve been alive…suppose he should know a few tricks. Have to see if he’ll let me in on that one. It was just barely possible. He debated for a moment dumping the Doxycide and claiming that there was none left, but if the things started flitting around the hall it would be a royal pain trying to track them down later.

When he arrived back in the Great Hall, the student crowd seemed to have grown larger despite the fact that classes would be starting soon. Most of their attention was focused on Umbridge who was still swatting at the Doxies swarming her skirts. “It seems I was wrong. It’s several years old, but there’s a bit left.”

She snatched the bottle from him and began spraying wildly. The Doxies were obviously going to be perfectly safe; Severus had to dodge backwards rather quickly to avoid catching multiple squirts directly in the face.

“Might I suggest aiming?” Minerva offered from the High Table.

///////////

Severus let himself into his quarters and gave the panel a more vicious slam than necessary. Umbridge had called yet another staff meeting for after dinner this evening—she’d begun doing it with deplorable frequency of late—and each seemed to accomplish less than the last. It would have been impressive if he hadn’t been forced to attend.

He was actually starting to become curious whether or not there were long term effects to the nerve-shattering potion that he’d never noticed before…after all, he’d taken it for less than a week himself, and most of his studies had been concentrated on that time frame. Not that he planned to stop dosing her of course; he’d gradually gotten into a fairly regular schedule since his return and it was definitely showing in her behavior. Of course swamps outside her quarters and Doxies in her office were helping a great deal, not to mention the constant harassment from Peeves and random students. And Nifflers, which tended to appear in her office or quarters every few days as well and were getting much smarter about how and when to go after her jewelry. He had no idea who kept putting them there, or how they were even getting to Hogwarts for that matter—it was possible that it was the same pair, but then Hagrid would have to be in on it and the half-giant really wasn’t the type for that kind of behavior—but provided they stayed well clear of his quarters he didn’t plan to question it.

His mind registered a figure sitting on his couch abruptly, and he had his wand raised before he realized that it was Harry. I really need to change that password! Although, to be fair, having the brat stand around in the dungeons waiting for him probably wasn’t a wise idea either. “Is there something that I can help you with? I do believe that you should be in class right now.”

“I have a couple more minutes…anyway, it’s Divination. I was wondering if we could skip the Occlumency lesson tomorrow, or at least put it off until a little later. Angelina wants us to get in an extra practice before the match against Slytherin this weekend, and….”

“Ah, the all-important Quidditch.”

“Please?”

Severus glared but was inclined to grant the request. At this point it was more along the lines of Occlumency practice than Occlumency lessons…there was little left that he could actually teach the boy, he just needed to get stronger. And stop throwing me around the room. “I suppose missing one day won’t cause any permanent harm. Mind we’ll pick up the next week same as always; don’t expect to get off every time your captain decides you need to spend more time on your broom.”

“Yes, sir,” he said with a grin. “Thank you.”

“I suggest that you find something else to tell your friends besides that I just let you off, as well.” The last thing I need is my reputation ruined, especially when I’ll have to start teaching the brats again come January.

“Yes, sir.”

Harry stood to go, and Severus waved a hand in dismissal. He had a few things he’d like to try before supper. Nothing complicated—he didn’t care to chance another explosion in his laboratory just yet—but it would be good to be brewing again now that he’d finally been cleared by the mediwitch in charge of his case. And been poked at by half of the rest of the staff for their amusement, I suspect.

He hadn’t been in his laboratory since the fiasco with the Confusing Concoction, and before he was able to try anything he had a more than fair amount of cleaning to do. Would it have killed me to wipe things down earlier? Well, considering what his state of mind had been at the time, it might have. Still….

Three hours later he lifted the cauldron carefully from the heat and checked the color. It had the correct sheen, and the consistency and odor seemed right as well. “Excellent.” He’d have to let it cool to be certain, but it appeared that he’d actually managed to make a cauldron of Doxycide. Which wasn’t in itself particularly impressive—it wasn’t in the student textbooks, but if it had been it would be in the volume sold to fourth years—but considering that he hadn’t managed to brew anything of late it was still satisfying.

He set the cauldron on the opposite counter and started to clean away the mess. He still couldn’t do as much with the clamp as he could have with his hand, but…well, it was a start. Part of him was tempted to try another one, but he didn’t particularly want to spoil his success. Better to plan out what he wanted to do first. I believe I can skip the first and second year texts, but a few of the third year texts get a bit more complicated in terms of timing. They’d be easy enough normally, but when I need to be adding multiple ingredients at once…. He skipped lunch, sorting through his books and planning out a schedule for the next few weeks that would hopefully bring him back to his previous level of proficiency. Or at least give him a more than fair estimate of what he was capable of and what he’d need to work on. He was tempted to skip dinner as well, but not only would Poppy get on his case, Umbridge might come looking for him so he didn't miss the staff meeting, and he didn’t want her in his rooms. Dinner itself wasn't particularly enjoyable when he knew that he was going to be lectured for an indeterminate length of time afterwards, and from the subdued state of the rest of the High Table they felt about the same.

“And here we go again,” Minerva muttered as the professors began to trickle into the staff room after dinner.

He rubbed at his forehead. “Any clue as to what this one might be about?”

“She hasn’t had a reason for the last two.”

He shook his head and took a seat in the back, the better to be overlooked. “At least the weekend’s entertainment should prove to be interesting. Granted from what I’ve heard your team hasn’t performed particularly spectacularly on the practice field, but….” In truth he hadn’t heard anything of the sort—aside from Harry’s chattering, his glimpse of Weasley’s abysmal keeping abilities, and a word or two from Rolanda, he’d heard nothing about the Gryffindor team and even less about Slytherin’s—but he could hardly admit that.

“I beg your pardon?” Minerva took the seat beside him with an expression of shock and outrage that was only half-feigned. “I haven’t the faintest idea who you’ve been speaking to, but I can assure you that my team is in excellent condition and perfectly prepared for the game.”

“Really? I seem to recall you saying the same thing when young Ms. Johnson played Seeker and forgot that she was supposed to be catching the Snitch not chasing the Quaffle.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about. And if you would please recall just whose house is the reigning champion?”

“Gah. Pure luck. If we’d played Quidditch last year, I assure you that you wouldn’t have kept it.”

“Perhaps you suffered a head injury that you weren’t aware of—you should tell Poppy about these delusions of yours.”

“Delusions?”

Severus bit back a groan as the healer took the free seat on his opposite side, and Minerva gave him an absolutely evil smile. “It’s nothing, Poppy. Minerva hit her head this morning.”

“I most certainly did not!”

Umbridge cleared her throat, and when that got no response banged her hand on the table in front of her a few times until she’d drawn the attention of the majority of the room. “Now, I’m sure you’re all wondering why I’ve called you here,” Umbridge began.

No, not really. Mostly I’d like to leave now. And I suspect everyone else here feels the same. He caught a glimpse of Filch leaning against the other wall and smiling and amended his thoughts. Almost everyone.

“Well, as you know I’ve been reviewing the classes and making suggestions for improvement. With less than a full month left until the winter holidays, Minister Fudge has indicated that he would like to tour the school for himself and see how things are progressing. Next Friday he and several other Ministry officials and guests will be visiting, and I believe that there will be a special presentation at dinner.”

Severus glanced over at Albus to see what the headmaster thought of this little invasion of his school, but his expression bland except for a hint of a twinkle in one eye. What he could possibly find even slightly amusing about this situation….

“And what’re we supposed to do while they’re visiting?” Alastor demanded. “Put out a dog and pony show?”

He’d taken one of the seats nearest the door, and by some amazing coincidence she’d given her little announcement from the other side of the room, but even so she shrank back a bit as he spoke. “I’m sure that everyone here has appropriate lesson plans prepared that will show the Ministry that Hogwarts is indeed teaching the younger generation to use their abilities properly.”

“I don’t suppose you need a volunteer for any sixth year transfiguration classes next Friday?” Severus hissed in Minerva’s direction.

“You’re volunteering?”

“I’m volunteering the Minister. He’d be of far more use as a side table than he is holding his current office.”

She suffered a sudden coughing fit that had Poppy glancing over with concern in her eyes, but after a moment she regained control and waved off the mediwitch. “I’ll be sure to consider it.”

///////////

Severus grinned at Minerva’s groan as the Quaffle once again flew through the middle ring on the Gryffindor side. They'd spent most of the last three days sniping on and off about their respective teams chances, and while she might have come out a bit ahead in the war of words it certainly didn't look like Gryffindor was going to live up to her claims. Not that Slytherin was playing particularly well, at least not judging by the standards of previous years—or maybe it was just that those bloody human Bludgers in the forms of the Weasley twins kept getting in the way—but with that kind of Keeping if they game kept up much longer they were going to win the game no matter which Seeker finally managed to get his hands on the Snitch.

Goyle the younger took a swing at a Bludger and nearly fell off his broom, and Severus hid a wince. Surely there was at least one better player than that particular child at tryouts. He had taken a careful glance at the guest stands before taking his own seat in the professors' stands—no sense getting himself killed for a sporting match—and had been surprised to see that Crabbe and Goyle the elder were both absent, as was Lucius. He rarely missed a game, particularly one that his son was in. Perhaps that was why Draco wasn’t playing quite as intensely as he normally did…in an unusually clumsy move he had nearly run into the commentator while dodging a Bludger aimed in his direction early in the game.

Severus could hear chanting from the Slytherin side in-between decidedly partisan announcements from Lee Jordan—perhaps Draco’s little blunder was intentional?—something about Weasley being a king born in a bin. It didn't make much sense to him, but whatever they were saying must have been more audible on the field judging by the glares the youngest Weasley and Harry were both shooting at the Slytherins. If nothing else, the chanting was proving to be a useful distraction, and Severus couldn’t help a chuckle as Jordan’s next line of commentary ended up being a listing of Gryffindor players who managed to drop the Quaffle right after they caught it. “Yes, I can see they’re careful prep—” he broke off his taunt to Minerva as Harry dove suddenly.

Draco was right beside him, both of them ignoring the action around them as they dove towards the dirt, and Severus leaned forward to see the Snitch flying along perhaps two meters from the grass. The two Seekers were nearly neck-and-neck…Harry’s fingers reached the Snitch first, though, and the spectators in the Gryffindor stands came to their feet cheering. And then a Bludger struck Harry in the back of the head, sending him flying forward off his broom, and Severus and the rest of the professors came to their feet as well. Bloody hell, if he lands in the infirmary again... The rest of the Gryffindor team, minus the youngest Weasley boy, had landed around him so it was difficult to see anything, but it appeared that he was climbing to his feet. Not severe, then.

Draco was on the ground as well, and apparently he’d said something unwise because a fraction of a second later one of the Weasley twins and Potter were across the small space separating them. Severus was fairly certain that Harry was the one that actually managed to land on Draco; Crabbe the younger got in the way of whichever Weasley twin had moved with him. A Muggle-style fight? Bloody hell, Draco is going to get clobbered. For all that he was the smaller of the two, Harry at least knew the basics of that sort of fighting…Draco was more likely to harm himself than the other wizard. There was nothing that Severus could do from here, not without hitting everyone involved. An idea that is sounding better by the moment. Minerva clearly felt the same; her wand was out but she couldn’t seem to decide where to aim. The second Weasley twin was struggling mightily against three members of his own team—and appeared to be close to freeing himself which would not help the situation—when Rolanda was suddenly there jinxing back the brawlers.

By the time Severus and most of the rest of the spectators were able to make their way down from the stands the field had been cleared, and he retired to his rooms still curious what had caused that little stunt. If he’d still been Head of Slytherin House he’d have found out on short order—it would have been a biased version, but at least he’d have known something—now he had to wait a respectable amount of time before cornering Rolanda or Minerva and seeing what they’d found out. I believe I’m starting to understand Harry’s frustration with having to wait and see what happens.

He didn’t actually have to wait that long…the Gryffindor Head-of-House was still livid at dinner, and not just at the two—three, if you count the Weasley twin who’d barely been kept out of the fight—errant members from her house team. Apparently Fudge had been passing new decrees behind their backs, one of which apparently gave the High Inquisitor more power than the professors she was here to oversee. It made a sick sort of sense on paper, but knowing what that woman was capable of…. Severus was no more pleased to hear about that than the rest of them; it wouldn’t be long before she could overrule Albus, and when that happened things could become very unpleasant. Of course, we’re assuming that that decree hasn’t already been passed and she simply hasn’t had a reason to tell us about it. Not a good situation to be in.

He tapped his fingers on the tabletop lightly. There had to be something that they could do to reduce the power that she held.