Becoming Familiar with a Man of Misery

Chapter 3 ~ The Potions Class

Hermione hurried down the dungeon corridor. Raucous was disillusioned, but it was easy to see she was carrying something. If the Professor appeared, he’d ask her what she was doing. She didn’t want to show her hand. She slowed when she realized that the Professor was in class. Raucous was silent in the dark cage. He was used to this, being transported in the dark, then the cover lifted to reveal several idiotically smiling faces staring in at him. He was a perfect gentleman until he was let out and fed. He immediately would set about testing the limits of his new owners’ patience. Since he had been brought back to the shop seven times, the irate purchaser(s) failed the test badly.

This was a different situation. He didn’t like the witch who had him. She was soft, he could tell. He wanted a master who was worthy of him, someone strong and preferably ill tempered. Someone who would appreciate his mischievous ways. Well, the witch wasn’t his type, but her offer had been interesting…he would behave himself as long as it was in his best interest. He hoped she wasn’t leading him on, if she was, she’d have a lot of bird shit to clean up.

Raucous felt the cage being set down and stood up expectantly. The cover came off and he was looking into the wide, amber eyes of the witch who had purchased him for two knuts. Raucous was an extremely bright raven, and although he didn’t grasp the full concept of money, he knew that knuts were the lowest form of it and it was better that he be bought with galleons. Ah well.

Hermione peered in the cage at the bird, wondering if it were safe to let him out, considering the hell he was raising at the Magical Menagerie.

“If I let you out, Raucous, will you behave yourself?” she asked the bird.

Raucous tilted his head at her as if to ask, “What do you think?”

Hermione’s eyes darkened. She was not about to get shit on.

Raucous saw the witch was hesitant about letting him out, and cawed, scrabbling at the cage with his clawed foot.

“All right, I’ll let you out, but I warn you Raucous, I am good with a wand, faster than the shopkeeper was. I want us to stay on good terms, but if you start acting out, I will stun you. Understand?”

Hm. Maybe the witch wasn’t as soft as he thought. He still didn’t like her. He cawed assent, and Hermione opened the cage door. Raucous hopped out and stretched his wings to their full extent. Hermione admired the bird. His feathers were very glossy, and he looked quite impressive with his wings spread out.

Raucous folded his wings and looked about the tiny room with distaste. He hoped the wizard she had referred to had better accommodations. He looked up. Ah, there were rafters. He hopped off the table and flew up to inspect them. Yes, they would do just fine. There was no way he was going back in that cage if he could help it.

Hermione looked up at the bird, who was walking the rafters as if counting off paces. Her stomach growled. She was famished. She walked to the floo and picked up some floo powder and tossed it into the fireplace.

“The kitchens,” she said.

Raucous cocked his head at this. He knew that word. Kitchen meant food, and he was starving. He watched as Hermione ordered a sandwich and a glass of pumpkin juice. A squeaky voice replied. Presently, a house elf winked in holding a platter with a sandwich on it and a glass of juice. It sat it down on the table. Hermione thanked the elf and was just about to sit down in the armchair to eat, when Raucous dove down, grabbed the entire sandwich and flew back up to the rafters, where he sat the sandwich down and tore great pieces from it, wolfing them down. Mmm. Ham. One of his favorites.

Hermione scowled up at the feeding bird, her hands on her hips. Well, he couldn’t very well tell her he was hungry, but he could have been more polite about the sandwich. He was a familiar, so he knew what he did was wrong. She thought about the Potions Master, who probably would have enjoyed seeing the raven steal the food of her plate. Yes, Raucous would be perfect for him. Hermione went back to the floo and ordered another sandwich. The house elf appeared again, looking at the small witch with interest. It had only been about two minutes since he brought the first sandwich. She must be very hungry.

Hermione looked up at Raucous, who had finished her sandwich and was leaning over the rafter, eyeing her plate again. The witch pulled the sandwich close to her breast protectively, picked up her pumpkin juice and walked into her bedroom. Raucous soared in after the witch and perched on her dresser, watching her eat rather hungrily. Raucous really wasn’t hungry, but he was a covetous bird. He’d gladly take Hermione’s sandwich just because he could. But the witch was watching him closely as she ate, and gave him no snatching opportunities.

Finally she finished, and drank down her pumpkin juice. She gave a satisfied sigh and looked at the raven. He was very large.

“Raucous, we need to talk,” she said.

The bird cocked his head at her, then flew over to the bed, perching on the headboard and looking at the witch intently. Her hair was very shiny. He liked shiny things, and was considering plucking out a couple of her hairs to take with him back to the rafters.

“The name of the wizard I want to give you to is Professor Severus Snape. But I can’t let him know that it is me who is giving you to him. He is a very cold, angry wizard. He hates everything,” she said.

Raucous cawed appreciatively at this. A wizard after his own heart.

“You are going to have to make him want to keep you. He’s not going to want you. Hopefully he won’t hex you when he finds you in his classroom. But I suggest you behave yourself and show him how useful you can be,” she said, “This afternoon I am assigned to his class as an assistant. I want to disillusion you so you can observe him and see what he is like for yourself. You’ll need to fly to a high spot and stay in one place for the entire class so no one will see your shimmer. If after watching him, you don’t want to be with him, I can release you. I won’t take you back to the shop. You can live in the wild, a free bird.”

Raucous looked at Hermione as if she were mad, but the witch couldn’t tell. The wild? To fend for himself and compete with other animals for food? Not to mention be on the constant lookout for predators who would love to get their jaws on his glossy feathers. No. He was a domesticated bird. He didn’t do ‘wild’. He would go with the wizard no matter how bad he was. The badder the better.

The raven didn’t even consider Hermione as a master. She already annoyed him. The witch obviously was one of those anal human know-it-alls that had to plan everything out to the smallest detail. And how dare she even suggest he be released into the wild? Raucous felt like pecking her in the head.

The raven snapped his beak at Hermione.

“Oh. You aren’t too keen on the ‘released to the wild’ idea. Well, we can always look into adoption,” she said.

Raucous thought he might prefer going back to the shop and being killed. He could only imagine the kind of family she’d find for him. He really needed to get on this evil wizard’s good side and fast. He nodded at Hermione just to keep her from making more unwanted suggestions as to what to do with him if the Snape wizard didn’t take him.

Since there was no more food, and the witch had told him what he needed to do, Raucous soared back into the sitting room and roosted up in the rafters, ready for a nap. He looked down and positioned himself over the cage on the small table. There were no windows to fly out of to do his business, so he made sure if he shit, it would land in the cage. He didn’t want the witch to hex him. He stuck his head under his wing and drifted off.

In her bedroom, Hermione was pacing back and forth. She wasn’t feeling too happy about her class assignment under the Professor this afternoon. She hoped he would act as if nothing happened between them and not treat her too badly in front of the class. He was usually made sure to have horrible jobs for her to do, like scooping out entrails, or demonstrating how to dissect small animals. She was used to dissecting already dead animals, but he insisted she use live ones because the body parts were fresher.

She sat down on the bed and sighed. Why did she want the wizard so badly? Even if he did accept her, he would probably be cruel to her, probably make her do all kinds of twisted acts to him. She felt herself heating up at the thought of him ordering her to undress him, then making her kneel and…

The clock on her wall chimed. It was time to go to Professor McGonagal and grade yesterday’s transfiguration assignments.

First she needed to change her knickers.

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Hermione hurried back to her rooms. Potions class started in fifteen minutes. The Professor usually took a break between classes. Most likely he wouldn’t be there when she arrived with Raucous and could get him situated before class started.

She walked into her study and looked up at the sleeping raven.

“Raucous, wake up! We need to go!” she called up to the bird.

Raucous pulled his head out from under his wing and blinked down at the witch for a moment as he remembered where he was. He stretched every part of his body, fluffed his feathers a couple of times, then dropped down, landing on top of the cage. It had served its purpose all right. He looked up at the witch and cawed.

“Hold still,” Hermione said, drawing out her wand and tapping the bird lightly with it. A cold feeling washed over him.

“All right, hop on my shoulder,” Hermione said to the shimmer. Raucous complied, holding on to her a little tighter than necessary with his claws.

“Ow!” Hermione said, pushing at the bird until he adjusted his hold. He made a little chuckling noise as the witch walked out of her rooms and up the hall to the Potions classroom. She entered and as she had hoped, no one was there. She looked around and her amber eyes fell on a tall bookshelf in the corner.

“Go up there, Raucous,” she said pointing at it. The bird flew over and settled on the top of the shelf just as the Professor walked in. He narrowed his eyes at Hermione.

“Talking to yourself, Miss Granger?” he sneered at her, walking toward his desk and opening a drawer, taking out some parchments..

“Just thinking out loud, Professor,” Hermione replied, willing her voice not to shake.

The Professor thrust the stack of parchments at her.

“If you have to be in my class, then make yourself useful. Mark these papers, and don’t be a bleeding heart about it, Miss Granger. If they are in error, they are in error. There is no partial credit for an answer that isn’t absolutely correct. Do I make myself clear, or am I going to have to re-mark the parchments like I did last time? If I do, I will put in a request that you not assist me…your university credits be damned,” he said to her snarkily.

Raucous liked this wizard. He put the witch in her place right away with no apologies. And he had done it in a smooth, low voice that was very commanding.

“You won’t have to go over them sir. I am very aware of your methods of marking,” she said, “I just thought it would encourage the students if…” Hermione began.

The Potions Master cut her off, his black eyes flashing with loathing as he looked at the witch.

“Don’t think, Miss Granger. You’ll hurt yourself. This is my class, and I do things my way. I don’t coddle these dunderheads. No one coddled me and I learned. Keep your useless ideas to yourself,” he said dismissively, sitting down at his desk, opening his drawer and taking out another piece of parchment and reading it.

Scowling slightly, Hermione walked to the back of the room and took her seat behind a small table. She set down the parchments, opened up a small bottle of red ink, picked up a quill, dipped it into the ink and began to mark them as students slowly filed in.

Raucous noticed how quiet the students were as they took their seats. The raven had been around youngsters before. They were usually much louder than this, almost as raucous as he was, but not this group. He also noticed not one sat in the front row, but filled up the chair in the back rows first. Each student would enter and anxiously scan the rows, then each face would light up with relief as they found a seat in the back. The faces became more anxious and less relieved as the students seated themselves closer to the front. A look of absolute dread darkened the countenances of the late arrivals, who found themselves regulated to the second and first rows of the class.

The wizard hadn’t moved from his desk or looked up as the students arrived. But he seemed to know when they were all seated because he looked up slowly and glared at each and every one of them. The pupils all stiffened, a few going white under his gaze. Raucous was particularly impressed when a young black wizard’s face went good and pale. Now that was fear. Obviously the class was terrified of the wizard.

Professor Snape rose slowly from his desk, and walked around it, standing directly in front of the class. His movements were unhurried and deliberate, but had a distinct air of threat about them. The class all leaned back as if one entity of many heads. The Professor’s eyes swept the class slowly, falling on each and every student with a look of disdain.

He began to speak in a low, quiet voice.

“The parchments you handed into me two days ago on the uses of Bubertuber Puss were abominable. Not one of you wrote anything beyond ‘it causes boils to erupt’. Have none of you heard of the library? It is a place with books that provides detailed information about different subjects. You go there, find a book on your topic, open it and READ. Then you process the information and apply it to your assignment. Of course, processing information requires a brain, and it is obvious that brains in this class are in very short supply.

“You have all received failing marks for this assignment. Each and every one of you. I am reassigning this paper, for half marks only. Those of you who do not find at least ten uses or reactions for Bubertuber Puss, will find yourselves with a failing mark and spending detention in the Forbidden Forest harvesting Thorny Night Blooming Zedock Root without gloves. Am I understood?”

A whisper of “Yes, Professor,” flowed across the classroom.

The Professor’s dark eyes rested on Hermione, who was busily marking parchments at the back table. A small, cruel grin flashed across his features before his cold expression returned. Raucous noticed it.

“Miss Granger,” the Professor called.

Hermione looked up at him.

“Yes sir?” she answered.

“Kindly go into the lab and wheel the covered cart into the classroom,” he purred at her, “We are having a hands on lesson today.”

As Hermione left the class to retrieve the cart, the Professor looked at his students imperiously and started to pace.

“The art of Potions Making requires much more than brewing. The Potions Master must gather his ingredients from an assortment of different media, and knowing the composition of that media is very important. What we are going to do today is extract various items from the media of my choice, set them aside and identify them,” he said silkily, his black eyes glittering.

Hermione rolled the covered cart in. There seemed to be a pile of something underneath. What it was Hermione had no idea, but it was soft when she pressed down on it, the impression of her fingertips remaining after she withdrew her hands. As she approached the Professor held up his pale hand, indicating she should stop where she was. Under the cart was a large scoop, and a number of platters.

“Miss Granger, you can remove the cover and distribute the media to the students,” the Professor said, a small, unpleasant smirk on his face.

Hermione removed the cover and immediately gagged, covering her nose and stumbling back from the cart. It was loaded with fresh, fragrant dragon dung. Little bits of things were sticking out of it, some of them moving. The entire class had a similar reaction, and Raucous danced on top of the shelf with glee. Oh, this wizard was GOOD.

“Miss Granger, collect yourself. You are supposed to be my assistant. Surely you can act in a more mature manner,” Severus said derisively. “Now, serve up the ingredients for the students.”

The students in the first row formed a line in front of the cart, their noses wrinkled in disgust as Hermione scooped up large portions of dragon dung, plopped it on the platters and handed them to the students, who returned to their seats, placing the dung in front of them. After every one of them had been seated, the Professor told them what they had to do.

“You are going to remove all foreign objects from the dung and set them aside. The dung must be left smooth and objectless. Miss Granger will then collect the processed dung and store it. It has very magical properties and is useful in a number of ways, which I will go over with you all tomorrow. Now, because the objects in the dung are not always visible, you will need to feel your way through it and find the objects using the sense of touch as well as your eyes. You will not be able to wear gloves, which would desensitize the sense of touch,” he said, a small smile playing around his pale features as the students issued small protestations of disgust.

He looked at Hermione who was watching him with a look of pure dislike on her face. He was punishing the class for their abysmal performance on the Bubertuber reports.

“Miss Granger, please demonstrate,” he purred at her.

Raucous could have shit, he was so delighted.

Hermione slowly scooped up a pile of the smelly dung, put it on a platter and stuck her hands into the stinking mess. It was wet and sticky like mud. She felt around, working it between her fingers, and pulled out a bit of bone, setting it to the side. Then she removed a long, pink worm, and almost puked as she set that aside as well. For ten minutes she sifted through the dung, removing object after object. Finally, there was nothing left in the dung.

The Professor smirked at her.

“Miss Granger, you performed that task as if you’ve been doing it your whole life,” he commented, then turned to the class.

“Begin!” he said imperiously, “And you will receive failing marks for the day if the dung is not totally object free. Even one small sliver of bone can ruin the batch, so I expect you all to be very thorough. I will return by the end of class.”

He walked over to Hermione who was wringing her shit-covered hands.

“Miss Granger, tag every returned platter with the student’s name, then after class I want you to check their dung to be sure they have removed all objects from it before storing it in the vat I have sitting on the counter in my lab,” he said to her before exiting the class and heading for his potions office.

Hermione scowled after him.

Raucous was rolling silently with mirth on his feathered back, his claws in the air as he writhed on the top of the bookshelf. It was difficult for him to keep quiet, he wanted to squawk loudly with laughter. If ravens could cry, tears would be streaming uncontrollably down his beak. This was just too damn good. Dragon dung.

The Professor was the Master he had always dreamed of. So vindictive, so sarcastic, so very, very evil. He was smooth too. It was obvious he was punishing both the class and the witch, but had done so within his authority as a teacher. Raucous was in love. He particularly liked how the Professor excused himself from the stench. Nice touch.

As he watched the students work with the dung, a couple of them throwing up in the process, the raven knew he had found the Master he’d been looking for his whole life.

He just had to get accepted by the dark wizard. Nothing else would do.

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A/N: Lol. Professor Snape is a trip. Poor Hermione. Poor class. Raucous is in love. Let’s see if he can wing his way into the dark wizard’s world. Please review.

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The Burning Pen

Becoming Familiar with a Man of Misery
by Ruth Solomon

The story content is adult in nature and can contain graphic sex and violence. Those under the age of 18 are asked to leave this site immediately. You are not welcome here. The author is not responsible for those under-aged who view these works.

CHAPTER 4

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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