A/N: Well here we are friends, chapter eleven. I promise that no one will go broke while reading this. But you will find many Public Service Announcements (and abundant parentheses), since this chappie’s all about safety. So get that thing out of your nose, and read!
For your information, this chappie was sponsored by Dr Pepper (my hero) and oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.
Double Potions wasn’t nearly as bad as usual lately. Oh, the assignments were getting nastier and nastier and Snape was still snide about what the students were turning in, but the class had gotten funnier. The students enjoyed sliding on the residual pudding mess from when Arbitrare had substituted, and would occasionally throw the stuff at each other. They also enjoyed watching Arbitrare, who could often be found in a corner scooping up said pudding mess with a spoon.
This day was no different, with Arbitrare on his hands and knees, trying to gather up a last runny little bit of pudding. Snape was standing over him, making sure he got everything.
“Come on,” Snape was saying as the pudding slipped off Arbitrare’s spoon. “I want to be able to eat off of that floor. Or better yet,” he smirked evilly, “for you to eat off of.”
“Would you like me to lick it off?” Arbitrare asked angrily. “Look, I’m licking it!” He threw down the spoon and started slurping the floor.
Snape shrugged. “Whatever works for you.”
At their table in the back, the trio watched this escapade unfold. “That really is pathetic,” Harry said.
“Well, he kind of had coming to him,” said Hermione, watching Arbitrare drag his tongue across the stone floor.
Harry and Ron stared at her. Hermione, the ultimate patron of the annoying, repressed, and annoyingly repressed, wasn’t outraged by this? The world seemed to have gone mad (“well, duh,” you say).
“You feeling alright?” asked Ron, who had paused his attempted slicing (he’s still caught in a finger trap, remember) of bat spleens to stare at Hermione.
“Of course I am,” replied Hermione, a little impatiently. “It’s just Arbitrare’s always doing such stupid things; he’s worse than half the students. It was only a matter of time before it caught up to him.”
Harry and Ron kept staring. Ron dropped his knife. “Who are you, and what have you done with Hermione?” he asked.
“Don’t be stupid, Ron, just finish cutting those spleens. Harry, stop eating anchovies and stir. I don’t want to fail this assignment on account of you two gawking.”
Harry and Ron did as they were told (Hermione had duct tape, after all), and soon the bell rang and they turned in a sample of their potion and went to lunch.
Since lunch was boring and nothing funny (well, funnier than usual) happened, we’ll jump forward to Defense Against the Dark Arts.
The class had started and Arbitrare hadn’t arrived. The students sat and chatted, flipped through their books, and put some finishing touches on the assignment due that day. After about ten minutes of this, Parvati said, “Should we just get started without Professor Arbitrare?”
“I think we should give him five more minutes, then we get to leave,” said Seamus. Hermione looked disapprovingly over the top of her book.
It was then that Arbitrare finally showed up. He staggered into the room, looking sick and with his tongue hanging out. He continued staggering to the front of the room, then said, tongue still out, “I’m neber doin tha agin.”
The class stared. “Er, what?” said Harry.
“Weh, you know I’s clen Snab’s oom, an I gol fustated an lid la flow clen. Then ih occuh domee tha I’d hafda puh my ton bah ih my mouh sontine.”
The class kept staring. “What?” Harry said again.
“Looh, jus,” Arbitrare waved his hand and turned to the chalkboard. He grabbed some chalk and wrote, “Practice your non-verbal spells while I go boil my tongue.” He then stalked back out of the room.
“You don’t think he really means that?” asked Hermione, staring after Arbitrare.
“I dunno, maybe,” said Ron, getting out his wand. He grinned at Hermione. “I thought you didn’t like him anyway.”
Snape swept up some stairs and down a hall. Dumbledore had called him to his office. It was rather important, the headmaster had said. It had better be, thought Snape. He didn’t trust his classes alone for more than five minutes.
Snape reached the moving staircase leading to Dumbledore’s office. He swiftly climbed the stairs and knocked on the door.
“Come in,” called Dumbledore. Snape entered the room saying, “I hope this really is important, sir, because I just left my classroom in the possession of pyromaniac third years.”
“Ah, Severus, glad you could come. I assure you that you shall be back before your class immolates.” It was then that Snape saw that Dumbledore had been talking to someone else before he got there. “This is Violet Shunn, she’s a Ministry safety inspector. She’s come to give the school a thorough look-over to make sure all our students are safe.”
Snape glanced over at her. She was rather young, a bit too young to be a Ministry appointed inspector, Snape thought. She had blonde hair and glasses, but she looked over the top of her glasses in a very McGonagall-ish way that made Snape sure she did her job, unfortunately, incredibly well.
“Miss Shunn was just about to start her inspection,” continued Dumbledore.
“Perhaps I should start with your class, Professor,” she said, eyeing Snape.
“A wonderful idea!” said Dumbledore happily. “Start from the bottom up. Severus, why don’t you show her the way?”
Snape forced a smile. “Certainly, if I may speak with you for a moment, Headmaster.”
“Absolutely. Miss Shunn, we’ll only be a moment.” Dumbledore smiled politely. The inspector gave them both an odd look and left.
As soon as she was out the door, the plastered-on smiles disappeared from both the men’s faces. Snape turned to Dumbledore and whispered angrily, “Why on earth am I getting stuck with this? I already have enough to do.”
“I know, but it’s a routine check, I can’t do anything.”
“Since when did the Ministry start doing safety inspections?”
“Just now as far as I know, but she can’t find anything too heinous.”
“In this school? Are you insane?”
“Hmm. Well, I’m sure we can come up with something.”
“Like what?”
“Perhaps a bribe?”
“There’s not enough gold in all of Gringotts…” muttered Snape as he left the office.
Snape stood, arms folded, in the shadows at the back of the class as the safety inspector wandered around making occasional notes on a clipboard. The inspection wasn’t going very well. The students were too busy gawking at the stranger in the room to make their potions correctly, and several small fires had broken out.
The inspector made another note on her clipboard, then wandered to the back of the class where Snape was. “I’m finished with this room, Professor, you may take your class back.” She then strode to the door, and as she was leaving said, “And I can show myself around the castle, thank you very much.”
Snape rolled his eyes and muttered some unpleasantries under his breath. He couldn’t be gladder to be rid of the stupid inspector. He was just about to take control of the class once again (they had now succeeded in melting a small hole in the stone floor), when a horrible, sinking thought struck him. If Shunn were to inspect the whole school, she would have to look in every room on every floor, including the dungeons people thought were empty. Snape turned and bolted.
It always seems to happen that when you’re trying to get somewhere before someone else, someone who has a head start on you, that you always get there after them, and usually right at the beginning of a rather unfortunate conversation and/or discovery.
Such was the case with Snape. He ran down the hall and came skidding to a stop in the doorway of one of the dungeons, but too late. The inspector had already found what was inside and had started talking to it.
“My good man, what are you doing sitting on the floor?” she asked incredulously.
“I’m wallowing in despondency,” replied Arbitrare.
“Well, why are you- good heavens, what are you eating?!”
Aribtrare swallowed hard. “Bad potions assignments.”
The inspector was in shock. “Why on earth would you do that?!”
“Snape’s making me eat all these failing potions assignments as part of my detention.” He waved his spoon at a great deal of flasks, vials, and jars behind him.
The inspector rounded on Snape. “What makes you think you have any right to do this?” she asked angrily.
Snape didn’t blink. “He’s in detention. The person in detention has to do what the teacher or other authority figure they’re serving with says. Those are the rules; if you don’t like it, take it up with Dumbledore. Though I should warn you that the rules are more set here than even the headmaster.”
“I don’t think the rules say that one teacher can put another in detention.”
Snape shrugged. “True enough. However,” he smirked slightly, “that’s hardly a safety violation, is it?”
The inspector could only scowl. Arbitrare said, “Ooh, snap.”
Finally, Shunn spoke. “I’m going to go through this entire school,” she started threateningly, “and write down anything, anything, that comes even close to being a safety violation. If your classroom is any indication, I should find more than enough to close this school forever.”
“I don’t doubt that,” muttered Snape.
“What was that?”
“Oh, nothing. Well, I suppose I should let you be on your way.” Snape moved to the side of the doorway, looking like a gentleman. As the inspector passed him, Snape added, “Oh, and do be careful. It would be quite awful if a staircase vanished out from under you.”
The inspector, picking up on the not-so-subtle sarcasm, marched off down the hall. Snape looked down at Arbitrare. “What are you staring at? Finish up all this.” He slammed the door.
It was once again time for Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Arbitrare was once again quite late. After the usual debate of whether the class could leave or not, Arbitrare stumbled in, looking incredibly green. He got to the front of the room and muttered, “Sorry…to…be late…” He swayed on the spot. “Was…eating crap…for Snape…”
“Are you all right, Professor?” asked Hermione.
“I don’t think so…” Arbitrare said pensively. Then all the color, green or otherwise, drained from his face and he fell right over.
There were gasps from the class and everyone stood up to get a better look. “Someone needs to get Madam Pomfrey!” said Hermione. All this got was people looking away from her and whistling.
“Oh, honestly!” She shot a furious look at Harry and Ron and stormed from the room.
“Why is it always our fault?” grumbled Ron.
Snape had once again assumed his position in a dark corner in the back of a room with his arms folded. He was starting to think he should take a summer job as a bouncer.
This time the room he was standing in was Dumbledore’s office, and he was watching the safety inspector attempt to berate the headmaster on running a deathtrap.
“I found 413 violations on just one floor,” she was saying while flipping pages on her clipboard, “and no less than 100 on any of the other floors.”
Dumbledore took it all in, nodding politely. “Continue,” he said.
“The grand total for violations is 1,782.” She looked up from the clipboard. “That’s enough for me to not only close this school, but to raze it to the ground and salt the earth.”
“Interesting.” Dumbledore steepled his long fingers. “I think you’ll find, however, that this school will stay open no matter what you think you’ve found wrong with it.”
The inspector’s jaw dropped. “You cannot be serious.”
“I’m afraid I am. You see, this school is home to our students; we can’t just send them packing like this. Besides, it’s good life training. If you can avoid the pitfalls here, then you can avoid them anywhere.”
The inspector shook her head. “You’re insane, Dumbledore.”
“I suggest you watch your tone,” said Snape dangerously.
“You’re more insane than he is! Why are you even here, anyway?”
“To fill his ubiquity requirement for the day,” replied Dumbledore. “Please be courteous, Severus. You were saying, Miss Shunn?”
“I was saying you’re insane for keeping this place open, and I’m going to send this report to the Ministry-“
“Oh, we’ll never be shut down then,” said Snape.
“Manners, Severus,” admonished Dumbledore.
“I’m sending this report to the Ministry,” Shunn repeated, a bit louder this time, “and Hogwarts will be closed and that’s-“ She got cut off by a large piece of the ceiling falling on her. Dumbledore and Snape both quickly looked up.
The author’s head poked through the new hole. “Whoops.”
Dumbledore looked back down at Snape. “Well, that’s terribly ironic, don’t you think?”
Tada! Chappie eleven! It ended up being a bit long; I think it’s the second longest chapter here. But hey, it was totally worth it. Show your thoughts, ideas, problems, points, power points, potassium, and other such things by reviewing! It makes me feel good to get good reviews, it makes you feel good to get my responses, so everyone’s a winner! Also: kudos to who can guess the pun in the inspector's name!