PML: Of Crabs and Goats

It was, it must be said, a masterful plan -- particularly for a Second Year.

Severus had saved his pocket-money all term; had finagled a library pass out of Professor Kettleburn solely for the purpose of forging the signature; perfected the same; and sent an order to Magical Menagerie in Diagon Alley for a single Fire-Crab. They weren't at all common -- variety inflammatus was found only in Fiji, and the one quality which set them apart from all other Carcinides maenas, beside their jeweled carapace, was that they shat fire.

Severus suspected he would have quite a lot of fun with that Fire-Crab. There were several things an inventive and daring Slytherin could accomplish with one, in fact -- not least of which was loosing it upon the Gryffindor Common Room. But in this instance Severus aimed for the highest possible level accomplishment, as he did in most things.

This was no pointless prank inspired by idle mischief, either -- far from it. Severus stood to gain two things from pulling this off: respect and admiration from his own Housemates -- all the way up to the Sevenths, who, as far as he knew, had never achieved the distinction of pulling off such a spectacular prank; and the trumping of Gryffindor House on behalf of Slytherins.

There had been quite a competition since the beginning of term to see which House could manage the sneakiest, most effective prank against various members of the faculty. So far Gryffindor had scored by charming Professor Binns' chalk to write naughty words, and Slytherin had responded by circumventing the Gryffindor Head's wards and charming her dressing gown to revert to Slytherin green with the Slytherin crest prominently plastered across her bum. (McGonagall had been livid.) With that coûp Slytherin had significantly upped the ante -- given the insult to their Head of House the Gryffindors were out for blood. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

But no one had yet targeted the Headmaster. Severus rather thought this would win the competition for Slytherin conclusively and, consequently, earn him adulation from his House and all the rest as well.

The Fire-Crab had arrived last week (a somewhat puny specimen with a single tiny gem in its shell -- the most Severus couls afford) and was, for the moment, secreted safely under Severus' bed in its fire-proofed and Silenced crate. Today was the Quidditch Final (Gryffindor versus Slytherin), and Severus took steps to ensure that he had a reasonable explanation for missing it -- a sudden attack of his usual stomach complaint, which Madam Pomfrey treated by the simple expedient of giving him medichocolate and sendng him back to his dormitory to have a lie-down.

There was a murmured conversation out in the Common Room: Severus heard Nott say, quite clearly, "No, Lucius, I'll get him," before he lumbered up the stair.

"You're letting down the side, damn you -- Malfoy says he's going to fag you unmercifully if you don't get your arse to the Pitch right now --"

He stopped and took in Severus' decidedly green cast of skin and the sweat beading his brow.

"No," Severus said, glaring, and shoved a parchment at Nott. "Got an excuse from Pomfrey. Show that to His High-and-Mightiness."

"Well, bugger me," he said (not that he had to worry about that -- he was Slytherin Least Likely To Be Buggered, even as a punishment by the Upper Forms; too unpleasant for them). "I'll show 'im, but --"

"He's not going to like this," Nott muttered, and scrambled back down the stairs with the parchment.

There was ominous silence from the Common Room, and then Malfoy shouted up, "If I find out this is a hoax, Snape, you'll bloody well regret it."

Severus let out another heart-rending moan and heard Nott say, "He really looks bad, Lucius. I don't want him puking on me --"

"Oh, very well," Malfoy snapped at Nott, and added in a yell, "You're going to make this up to us, Snape. Can't have the rest of the House thinking you can just skive off -- or the School thinking you're too good to support the team."

Then I'll have to make certain you bloody well don't find out -- at least until I pull this off.

He rather thought even Malfoy would overlook his lack of appreciation for Sport, under the circumstances.

He waited until the Slytherin Common Room was entirely silent, rose from his bed, pulled the Fire-Crab from its hiding-place, and Reduced the crate until it fit neatly into his robe pocket before slipping from the Dungeons and making his way to the ground floor.

He lurked in the arcade near the Headmaster's Office, waiting for one of the faculty to visit Headmaster before the Quidditch match. McGonagall obliged -- and hey presto! he had the Headmaster's password (Liquorice twist). It was quite easy.

He waited until McGonagall and Dumbledore left the premises for the Quidditch Pitch -- Dumbledore neglecting to ward the stair or change the password -- before trying to break in.

It worked. The gargoyle shot him a suspicious look when informed of the password, but it slid aside and Severus mounted the stair.

Headmaster's Office was very quiet -- the hum and whir of the various oddments muted, as if they only reached the peak of operation in Dumbledore's presence -- and Fawkes sat snoozing on his perch, utterly unconcerned with Severus' intrusion.

As if to counter that observation Fawkes lazily lifted his head and stared at Severus, lingering on the pocket where the Reduced crate nestled: the Phoenix gave a little trill that sounded disarmingly like a chortle, and then tucked his head back under his wing.

Severus moved about the Office, intent on sensing any warded openings. It was entirely possible that there was no loo for the Office itself, of course -- that the only one nearby was in Dumbledore's private quarters, in which case Severus could simply give up (He'd ward his private rooms, surely), and move on to Plan B: setting the destructive little crab loose in the Gyffindor Common Room or, better yet, the Girls' Dormitory.

But some cautious magical prodding of the walls revealed a sealed arch, and Severus made a stab at guessing the password.

Still no response, not even a shiver in the fabric of the wall: he was obviously on the wrong track.

Think, Idiot -- what would he use for a loo password.... Aha! Think beverages.

"I'm sorry," he said apologetically to Fawkes. "But I really have to go, you know. I don't think I can make it back downstairs."

Fawkes quirked his head and stared hard, as though gauging Severus' sincerity, and then finally gave another little burble. (It sounded suspiciously like "Loo.")

That's what I get for overlooking the obvious, Severus thought in disgust. He took the time to turn back to Fawkes and say, quite courteously, "Thank you. I shan't be long."

Fawkes simply gave him another tolerant look and settled himself more firmly on his perch.

Severus opened the door and stepped through, firmly closed it, and took stock of the situation. He hadn't quite believed he'd get this far, and having no idea of the layout he hadn't determined where to secrete the crab: the loo was surprisingly basic for the Headmaster's quarters, with only a toilet, basin, and a cabinet for towels -- not much scope for hiding anything.

Can't put it in with the towels -- they'll catch and start a fire... and if I put the little bugger in the bowl it will scuttle down the u-bend and enter the piping -- could wind up anywhere.

He settled, finally, on tucking the crate behind the water-tank, and decided to weaken one side of it just enough so the crab could do the rest of the work and free itself in the next twenty-four hours or so. Dumbledore would likely end up with singed ankles rather than arse, but under the circumstances that was acceptable too.

He pulled the box from his pocket and Engorged it -- ignoring a passing thought that it seemed much heavier than it had at the beginning of the week, when he'd first received it -- and then placed it behind the tank and judiciously chipped away at one end of it until he could just make out one of the crab's eyes and both antennae poking through the gap. It chittered at him in annoyance (it looked rather cramped), and he sternly said "Quiet, you," and put a silencing spell on it so it wouldn't betray its presence.

He smirked as he slid his wand up his sleeve, flushed the toilet for Fawkes' benefit, and turned to the door to make his escape.

The first hint that everything was going awry was the sound of splintering wood.

Severus, back pressed against the door, still possessed enough rational thought to make one or two pertinent observations as he fumbled in his sleeve for his wand. One:

Bloody hell, it's three times as big as it was. Note to self: check growth rates in captivity, next time.

However Severus had thought the plan would play out, it wasn't this way. At worst he'd thought he'd be caught -- that the wards protecting the Office would alert Dumbledore, and he'd get a spectacular series of detentions.

He had not anticipated winding up in the Infirmary face-down on a bed, a gown rucked up about his waist, and with Burn Healing Paste slathered all over his arse. By Pomfrey, no less, she of the lovely gargantuan bubbies that were the source of the majority of wet dreams in the Slytherin Boys' Dorm.

He'd had plenty of time to come up with a cover story for Pomfrey's ears as he limped painfully to the Infirmary, thanking his stars that the castle was otherwise deserted: he'd "stuck his wand in his back pocket," alas, something all students were cautioned against doing for precisely this reason, "and somehow the damned thing had gone off." It wasn't unknown for some students to loose control like that (though, by the gods, it didn't happen to Severus), but he'd willingly take the charge of stupidity or incompetence over malfeasance, at this point.

He'd managed to avoid the worst of Pomfrey's scolding when she bustled in, irate at being called from the match by the wards on the Infirmary doors. The worst, though, was that he had unfinished business in the Headmaster's Office. He was in such pain after he'd Stupefied the Fire-Crab that he'd just taken off, intending to return later to clean up the mess before the Quidditch match was over.

So much for that idea: Pomfrey insisted he remain in the Infirmary, and he knew Dumbledore wouldn't be misled by the excuse of a misfiring wand.

Visions of expulsion flitted through his head, and he shuddered at Aloysius' probable reaction. A Snape, expelled outright or sent down for term from Hogwarts -- and for a prank.

On the other hand, Aloysius' wrath might be preferable to the ragging and humiliation he'd undergo at the hands of the other Slytherins, not to mention the rest of the school.

Pomfrey hadn't had long to fuss over him or poke at his story -- there'd been a spectacular three-way collision on the Pitch, and she was currently occupied with two Gryffindors and a Slytherin, all with broken bones and at least one with a nasty concussion (Severus hoped it was Lucius Malfoy, but the moans eventually convinced him it was one of the Sevenths, Avery).

The screen surrounding his bed scraped against the floor: Severus lifted his head to peer at the intruder, and found himself staring upward into the bemused eyes of Headmaster Dumbledore.

"Mr. Snape," Dumbledore said gravely. "Madam Pomfrey says you've got a nasty burn." His eyes flitted to Severus' paste-smeared bum, and his face convulsed for a moment before he got his features under control again -- but not before a suspiciously gleeful snort escaped him.

"I mean, it'd be a shame for you to be stuck here while the Final's going on --"

"Postponed, I'm afraid," Dumbledore said, "by mutual agreement of Gryffindor and Slytherin. There's been some mucking about with the brooms on both sides, apparently, so we shall reschedule for next week. You know," he continued as he fetched himself a chair and sat next to Severus' bed, "it's quite funny, Mr. Snape, the extent to which some people will go to wreak havoc -- especially when there's a game involved."

Dumbledore lazily waved an arc in the area about the bed and cast a Silencing Charm before gently asking, "I think, Severus, that perhaps you can enlighten me as to why there is a Stupefied Fire-Crab in my toilet?"

Severus screwed his eyes shut and nearly buried his face in the pillow. This is it -- no getting around it now. The only thing trying to wriggle out of it would get him was more outrage from Aloysius.

"Yes," he whispered, and dared to look Dumbledore in the face. "I put it there."

"... you know, I don't believe we've had a Second try to sabotage the Office for a very long time. In fact, I don't think we've ever had one. Ten points for precocious ingenuity, Severus -- though I fear I shall have to deduct ten for not thinking through the consequences."

That was interesting -- if points were being given and taken, the implication was that he was still eligible to have it done. That he might not, in fact, be expelled -- though sending down for the remainder of Term was still a distinct possibility.

"Every four or five years the Lower Forms decide it would be great fun to play tricks on the teachers," Dumbledore went on. "They never seem to consider that the faculty are a quite obvious target, and we've contingencies to deal with them. Some faculty, like Professor McGonagall, even feel it's rather jolly to play along, within reason. And sooner or later someone decides the Headmaster is the pinnacle of accomplishment -- I sometimes feel as though I've a bulls-eye painted on my forehead."

"Oh, I understand entirely. In fact, it's been done for hundreds of years: it was certainly a well-established tradition when I was a student. What most students do not know -- for it certainly isn't noted in Hogwarts, A History -- is that the Headmaster's Office is warded specifically against such tricks and mischief. Has been since 1855. I was a Fourth, at the time."

Dumbledore's face remained grave, but his eyes sparkled mischievously: Severus blurted out, "You didn't --"

"Oh, my, no -- not that I didn't pull my share of pranks, but the Headmaster's Office was too audacious even for me." He pulled a tin from a pocket of his robes, offered Severus a sherbet lemon, and took one for himself. "It was my brother Aberforth. Two years older and quite brilliant when it came to pranking, if a poor student. Or perhaps a poor student because of all the pranking, I'm not certain. We were quite close, and he often involved me in his plots. Arthur and Felix Weasley left Hogwarts before you came here, of course, but undoubtedly you've heard of them?"

"Well, Aberforth and I were the Arthur and Felix of our time -- only more so, because Aberforth would stop at absolutely nothing for the sake of a good prank, while I had my limits. Which is why he was the only one disgraced in the kerfluffle over Headmaster Nigellus' pet goat.

"Headmaster was rather old and crotchety by that time, you see -- and one of the things he was funny about was his goat. Treated it like a child, let it wander about the corridors, took it along to Quidditch matches -- I think he would have fed it at the High Table, if the other faculty hadn't objected rather strenuously. No one knew why he was so odd about it, though there was no limit of scurrilous speculation: but I suspect that the animal was simply a cherished familiar. Rather like Fawkes is to me -- although you should never let Fawkes hear you call him a familiar, he'd be quite outraged. Perhaps it provided Nigellus with bezoars: they will occasionally chuck them up spontaneously, and Headmaster seemed inordinately concerned about poisoning. He had more than a few enemies, not least in his own family.

"In any event, Aberforth decided there was a distinct physical resemblance between Headmaster and the goat, and determined to find a way to twit Headmaster about it.

"So he snuck into the staff room, acquired a hair from the back of Headmaster's chair, and bribed one of the Sevenths -- the Potions teacher's son, as it happened -- to whip up a batch of Polyjuice Potion."

"But that's an inter-species magichemical transformation!" he blurted. "That's a Class 3 offence!"

"Precisely, but Aberforth didn't consider that because he was woefully ignorant when it came to regulations. Or he simply didn't care and didn't think he'd be caught -- which is actually far more likely, just between the two of us.

"What is worse (from Aberforth's point of view, at least) is that he picked a particularly bad night to pull the prank. The Prime Minister had attended the Quidditch Final earlier that day -- his son was on the Ravenclaw team -- and decided to stay for the Feast afterward as Ravenclaw had won. Aberforth didn't know this, because he missed dinner in favour of setting up the prank.

"He lurked about outside, and when he determined the Feast was drawing to a close he nipped up to Headmaster's Office and fed the goat the Polyjuice."

"Oh, it does, but goats will eat anything, you know. And I'm very glad you said 'supposed,' Severus, that's not a thing for students to be mucking about with, no matter how advanced they are in Potions. Anyway, as soon as the transformation was completed Aberforth nipped back down the stairs and hid in the nearest alcove in the corridor -- probably the same one you hid in today," Dumbledore noted imperturbedly, "and his intention was to stick about and enjoy the fireworks. But he hadn't counted on the Prime Minister accompanying Headmaster back to the Office for a glass of port before heading back to the Ministry."

Severus guffawed and then clapped a hand over his mouth: Dumbledore's mouth twitched, and then he actually grinned.

"Precisely. It's quite all right, Severus, it is a funny image: quite dignified Headmaster Nigellus ushering the Prime Minister into his office only to discover an exact duplicate of himself on the floor, on all fours and absolutely naked, and placidly chewing a copy of Aristotle's Poetics. Headmaster was, to vastly understate it, extremely wrothful. You could hear the yelling all the way down the corridor and in the Great Hall."

"Well, the goat was alarmed because it wasn't supposed to eat Headmaster's books, for one -- in fact, Headmaster had charmed the books to repel it, but the charm didn't work. Presumably the Polyjuice defeated the charm -- after all, if Headmaster, or what the spell thought was Headmaster, wanted to eat his books rather than read them, that wasn't the charms' business. So goat-Nigellus bolted and scarpered out of the Office and down the corridor, and the Sevenths spent a half-hour trying to corner it in the Quad. Aberforth did a runner as soon as he saw it dash down the stair, so he missed the rest of the excitement."

"It was obvious that it was Polyjuice, of course -- within the hour the goat had reverted with no harm done, thankfully. There were only so many students that could have brewed Polyjuice, and only one, Walker, that might have had easy access to the stores -- and faced with the possibility of taking the full blame or of grassing on Aberfoth and sharing the punishment, Walker caved. He and Aberforth were both sent down for the remainder of the term and had to do the year over -- a pity, in Walker's case, because he'd already prepared for his NEWTs and then had to take them a year late."

"Oh, my, Severus, don't assume that simply because the name is the same. The most skilled Potions Master alive, a respected member of the Salisbury faculty, nearly expelled from Hogwarts? He wouldn't appreciate that at all." Dumbledore innocently popped another sherbet lemon in his mouth.

Severus determined to do some extra-curricular research in the almuni rolls at the next possible opportunity.

"And that is why the Headmaster's Office has been warded against student hijinx since 1855," Dumbledore concluded as he sucked on the sweet.

"How were you able to get in, let alone get so far along -- and with Fawkes' complicity? I have tweaked the wards a bit. You see, it makes no sense to me to absolutely forbid some things. We are here, after all, to educate, and it seems to me that sometimes Experience is the best teacher of all. So, provided the pranks are essentially harmless, anyone with enough ingenuity can get into the Office and set up their prank. The problem is that the wards will turn the trick back upon the prankster. Fawkes is aware of this, and that's why he collaborated."

Severus felt his face begin to burn, and he shoved it deep into the pillow: Dumbledore evidently couldn't contain himself, and chuckled, and Severus felt a gentle pat on his shoulder.

"Frankly, Severus, better you than me," Dumbledore said. "I do quite a lot of sitting, you know. And it may not be very kind of me, but I admit I rather enjoy seeing what potential tortures the students try to inflict on me. As I said, you're rather more inventive than most -- the rest usually try to adulterate my sweets."

"Oh, I'm certain you are. And will continue to be for a good week, I should think. That's quite enough punishment, as far as I'm concerned."

"Well, you're not going to be in any condition to fulfill any significant detention. And I rather think," Dumbledore said carefully, "that Lord Snape will not see the matter in quite the same way as I, will he? Aloysius never did have much of a sense of humour."

"So, no sending-down or letter home, either. What I do expect of you is this: the next time you're tempted to indulge in something of the sort -- and I do hope it shan't be directed at the Faculty -- that you think through the possible consequences quite carefully, and that you understand that there consequences you can't possibly anticipate. Is that acceptable?"

"Good. I assume you'd be happy if the true details of your escapade are kept quiet -- you'll just have to take some ragging for putting your wand in your pocket -- and I'm happy to leave it at that, too, on one condition: you do not tell anyone else about the warding. It would not only spoil the whole point of teaching a lesson, but it would ruin a great source of amusement to me personally. Agreed?"

"Very good. You rest, then, and listen to Madam Pomfrey -- let her boss you about, you deserve it. And next time," Dumbledore said, and reached over and tapped Severus' temple with a forefinger, "think twice."

"Oh, it's fine, Severus. It was coming around just as I was leaving my Office. Hagrid is capturing it even as we speak, and no doubt he'll add it to his menagerie -- you might care to help him with feeding it, when you're on your feet again. Now, if you'll excuse me, I suspect there will be some scorch marks to repair in my loo."

Severus spent the rest of the week-end in the Infirmary, and sat rather gingerly in classes for the following week.

Dumbledore was true to their agreement to remain silent -- with one notable exception.

When Severus went to the Gamekeeper's hut to check on the crab (out of a vague and annoying sense of responsibility), Hagrid asked quite matter-of-factly "What'd ya feed 'im, Sev'rus? I've never seen one get this big. Got ya good, dint he?"

He grinned when Severus froze and added, "Never knew you were so int'rested in Creatures."

"I'm not complainin', mind," Hagrid added with a gleam in his eye. "I've got big plans fer the li'l bugger. You don't tell Kettleburn I've got 'im now, and I won't tell Kettleburn how ya must've got 'im."

Severus fervently hoped he never found out what those plans were, and pointedly made no further visits to the captive crab.