Xoanon

By rhitmcshanm

Quiet.

I said, Quiet. I heard something. There. Down the hall, I saw something move. I slowly got to my feet and stalked my prey. The  flickering torchlight that dimly lit the hallway would play tricks on most people’s eyes, but not mine. Mine are still strong even after years of late night patrols. The faculty keep hinting that I can  retire at any time, but who I am is partly defined by my ability to find students breaking the rules. I am not quite as quick to spot  troublemakers and rule breakers as I was in my youth, but,  nevertheless, I have not missed one yet.

 On my patrol this particular day, it wasn’t precisely after hours—dinner was scheduled to begin in a few minutes—but this dungeon hallway should have been deserted. My suspicions were aroused. I  followed the interloper. The person stopped, and I crept closer. It was the current Head Girl. What she was doing down here in the bowels of the school when she rightly belonged up in Gryffindor Tower was yet another question to be answered.

 I don’t like this girl. Not at all. She is loud and bossy and always  in places she shouldn’t be. But…she does have a familiar that has  caught my eye once in a while. A more handsome cat one will never find. He never notices me watching him, unfortunately.

 She had paused in front of one of the myriad mirrors that lined the school’s hallways. Nervously, she brushed down her slightly bushy hair with a hand and checked her image to insure her simple, elegant  cosmetic charms were still in place.

 “Dear,” the mirror spoke suddenly, “you look lovely. What on earth is it that has you so nervous?"

 The girl shook her head mutely and clutched something tighter to her  body.

Now that I noticed it, I could see she was holding some sort of green  package.

 “Not going to tell me?” the mirror inquired in a hurt tone.

 “Well...” the Head Girl replied, taking a final look at her appearance. “I was just—“

 It was at this most inopportune moment—I had really been curious  (despite what they say about curiosity killing the cat) about her reasons for being where she shouldn’t at a time when she should have been elsewhere—that a sound was heard from further down the hall.

 The girl’s eyes widened as she saw another form stalking down the hallway, and she took off like a freed snitch. She didn’t even notice me as she flew by.

 The other figure drew closer. He didn’t seem to have noticed the girl his appearance scared off. He was supposed to be down here at least.  The ever-scowling face of the current Potions Master was impossible to  miss. His pallid skin was a stark contrast to his dark robes and his  lank and dirty hair was enough to make a mother sick. I stepped further out in the hallway, intent on continuing my rounds, when he ran into me. He ran into me. And he didn’t even stop and apologize. In fact, I am not even sure he noticed. Through my anger, I realized that this was very odd behavior for him too.

I sniffed the air. Perhaps there was something—some contaminant—that was causing these people to act abnormally. My acute sense of smell could detect nothing other than the usual mold smell that pervaded the  dungeons. It wasn’t something I could sense then. I shrugged and gave it up as a lost cause. They were just strange. One could spend years trying to figure these people out and never succeed.

 My rounds complete for the early evening, I decided to head up to the Great Hall and get some dinner. Most of the stuff served there was definitely not to my liking, but every once in a while, a scrap of something delectable would be served.

 Taking a few shortcuts my years of patrolling had discovered, I managed to arrive just in time to see the Head Girl hurry away from  the Head table. The room had a few students in it, but the evening  rush had yet to fully begin. No one but me was paying attention to the  Gryffindor witch. She sat down with a smug look on her face. I peered  up at the Heat Table to see what she possibly could have done. There. On one of the plates. She had placed the green package on one of the professors’ plates. None of them had arrived yet, so I was unsure  whose plate it was. (You’ll have to forgive my lack of insight. As I said before, I rarely attend meals in the Great Hall.) The girl fidgeted in her seat as more students filed in. Her friends—the ones who were in trouble even more often than she was—sat down around her.  They didn’t even notice her preoccupation. I did. I took a seat and watched intently, certain that a scene was about to unfold.

 The Potions Master swept into the room. He stalked down the aisle,  ignoring all the laughing, smiling children—intent only on getting to the Head Table, eating his meal, and ending the miserable day. He was  several paces from the chair with the package when he came to an  abrupt halt.

Aha! It was his chair! Curiouser and curiouser.

 He eyed the package as though it were a bubotubor pus bomb. Angrily,  his eyes swept the room, searching for the person who would have the  temerity to place such a thing on his plate. The Head Girl was now fully occupied in conversation with the two troublemakers. Despite her outwardly innocent appearance, the glare of the Potions Master fixed unerringly upon her. He looked as though he were going to sweep over there and take away every single point Gryffindor had ever earned in  her seven years at the school, when the gnarled hand of the Headmaster  clapped him cheerfully on the shoulder.

 “Oh, look! You received a present!” the Headmaster enthused, eyes twinkling.

 “Why don’t you go see what it is?”

 Realizing he was trapped by a force more powerful than an Unforgivable, the Potions Master succumbed to the inevitable. He sat  down at his usual spot with more than a touch of uncharacteristic trepidation and pulled out his long, ebony wand. Muttering a few spells, he insured the package was not cursed in any way. Seeing that it was clean, he gingerly reached out a long elegant finger and opened a corner of the wrapping. Nothing happened. Feeling a bit bolder, he peeled away more of the brightly colored paper. Suddenly, something  changed.

 He stiffened, eyes going wide. A moment later a distinct flush crept  over his usually pale face. One of his colleagues—the one who is a false cat, having just arrived, noticed the uncharacteristic behavior of the Potions Master and stepped forward, trying to determine what  had affected him so. Her eyes landed on the package, still partly covered by wrapping. She stiffened, eyes going wide. A moment later, a  distinct flush crept over her usually pale face. I crouched, certain  that some magical curse had affected the professors when suddenly the  Potions Master shot up from his seat, grabbing the present and wrapping in one smooth motion, and practically stalked from the room.

 The Headmaster walked up to the other affected faculty member and quietly asked if everything was all right. She shook her head and  whispered that she was fine. The witch took her seat calmly, but  throughout the meal, her eyes would stray to her colleague’s seat, and  she would turn scarlet.

 With an unconcerned shrug, the Headmaster took his own seat, and the  meal began. The usual feast was uninterrupted except for one more  incident. In the middle of the meal, a large owl swooped through the  rafters. It dropped a letter into the Head Girl’s lap. This was only  remarkable because it was not the usual mail time and no other owls appeared. The Gryffindor witch opened the letter, read it, and tucked  it into her robes. She offered the owl a bit of her meal and continued  to eat as though nothing had happened.

 I left the Great Hall sated and ready to begin a night of patrolling. I resolved to keep an eye on that dungeon corridor.

 It was after eleven and I had just caught a pair of Ravenclaw’s trying  to sneak back into the library—doubtless to do more studying—when my  sixth sense alerted me to a possible rule breaking. I practically flew down to the dungeons, certain that’s where the disturbance would be. I was right.

A cloaked figure was stealthily making its’ way down the hall when I got there. I watched, silent, not raising the alarm, determined to see what would happen. The figure stopped at the door to the Potions  Master’s chambers. A hand emerged and knocked on the heavy wooden door. Several long moments later, the door creaked open and the Potions Master stepped out. The cloaked figure removed the hood of the  cloak and I could see it was the Head Girl.

 “You wanted to see me, sir?” she asked quietly, holding out the letter  she had received at dinnertime.

 Faster than Harry Potter can snag the Snitch, the Potions Master’s  hand shot out and grabbed the girl’s arm. He roughly hauled her into the room without uttering a sound. Her initial shriek of alarm was cut  off by the slamming of the door. Not to be deterred in my quest for some clue as to what was going on, I hurried over to the House Elf entrance into the suite and squeezed myself through.  The sight I was  greeted with was unsurprising. The Potions Master was standing over the cowering girl, yelling.

 “What were you thinking?” he shouted. “Were you even thinking? Were you trying to embarrass me in front of my colleagues? Was this some  sort of joke?” His face grew redder as he continued his tirade, and  his lank hair swung in front of his face. Ever since he had been the  victim of an April Fools joke gone awry, he had never tolerated ‘funning.’ “What in the name of all that is magic possessed you to give me that? And at dinner no less!?” He waved his hand at his desk and for the first time, I saw the object that had caused all the trouble.

 Oh.

 Oh my.

 I could feel a blush creep up my face, and I never blush.

 It was…a statue, a wooden figurine. Of the Potions Master. In his birthday suit. Au naturel. And it was incredibly detailed. Every hair, every feature was replicated in exacting detail. Everything…I looked closer…surely it couldn’t be that big…my blush deepened as I realized the direction of my thoughts.

 I almost gave myself away with a snicker when I realized what the false-cat-woman must have seen.

 “Do you want to get me fired? What if one of the students had seen  this? Merlin, what if Hootch had seen it?!” he sat down in the chair  with an exhausted sigh. “Please,” he practically begged—something extremely unusual for this man, “please tell me why you would do this?”

 The Potions Master was silent, waiting for the student to provide an  answer as to why she had done what she had done. I myself was curious to know how she had known what details to replicate.

 “I…I…,” she began quietly. She looked up at the haggard man. With a small smile, she got up from her seat and sat in his lap.

 I blinked.

 “I was thinking, ‘Happy Birthday, Severus,’” she said, giving him a kiss.

 I blinked.

 Snape sat there immobile for just a heartbeat before gathering the  witch into his arms. He returned her kiss, and I was about to leave  them in privacy when he finally asked, “You know I can’t stay angry at  you, Hermione. But promise me you will never do anything like that  again.”

 “I promise, Severus,” she whispered, kissing his neck. “For the record,” she said between kisses, “I did try to sneak into your rooms  and leave it here in private, but you spoiled that plan by not staying  in your office.”

 Snape only grunted and moved his head to allow her better access, but I could see that something was on his mind. He finally pulled her head  away, looked into her eyes and asked, “What is it…for… exactly?” He  looked both extremely confused and turned on by her attentions.

 She smiled softly and said, “It’s a xoanon.”

 I could be mistaken, but I believe I saw a smile twitch at the corners  of the Potions Master’s lips. After that, they needed privacy, so I  showed myself out. Now I know how the girl knew all the…intimate…features to carve into the wood. Mystery solved.

 Some day, I intend to make my mystery-solving abilities into a career.  I'll open a shop. Frida Norris' Private Investigative Services. I am out of this dump of a castle just as soon as I have saved up a little  more money. No more "Mrs. Norris, find those kids!" for me! That man chases small humans around and expects me to do the same. He just doesn't understand the thrill of hunting mice and other rodents. At least those are a challenge. Humans. I will never understand humans.

 ***The End***