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“That ought to keep them at bay for now. Though be aware- you may feel a wave of despair. It will pass.”
You think about how this warning was so ridiculously understated it’s practically criminal as you fight off shivers from the intense chill emanating from somewhere deep inside your very core. The sensation almost feels as though your entire body has been dipped into ice water, the slight trembling in your hands only growing more prominent the longer you speak with Anne Thisbe.
You almost feel ridiculous for reacting this way. The dementors had hardly gotten the chance to come down from where they swirled against the ceiling before they were stopped by Madam Thistlewood. You initially thought that it was nothing, shrugging off the slight chill as you followed the retired Auror further into the labyrinthine hallways of Azkaban, but it's almost as though being within the stone walls of the building is enough to slowly drain you of all your energy.
The jeering of a nearby prisoner startles you back to reality, and you shake your head slightly as you try to refocus on Anne. She is muttering to herself, repeating her strange rhyme about how it ‘can’t hurt to look for the pages in your book’ before stiffening up from where she crouches.
“Helen? Helen! Know you’re here. Come in closer. Be a dear…” She eerily requests, laughing maniacally as you nervously step away to make room for the Auror.
Now without having to focus on the conversation, you feel the chill return as your hands begin to tremble once more. You nervously look around, trying your best to ignore the sneering faces of those who were shouting your way earlier, movement from above you being caught in your peripheral vision as you slowly tilt your head upwards.
The swirling black cloaks of the dementors trail behind long crooked fingers and hooded faces as they make small circles around the elevated ceiling. They are far enough away that you know they aren’t currently a threat, though you are sure that they are only keeping their distance due to the presence of Madam Thistlewood. Still, the temperature seems to drop even further as they occasionally swoop down slightly lower while making their rounds. They are never low enough that Madam Thistlewood is alerted, but low enough that you definitely are. You are watching one dementor in particular take a low dive which causes one of the prisoners down the hall to crouch in their own cell when a pained cry has you snapping your head forwards once more.
There is some sort of gaseous green magic trailing from Madam Thistlewood to Anne’s hands, the former Auror clamping her hand down onto her neck as she staggers back in pain. Anne is gripping the bars and cackling with deranged laughter as Madam Thistlewood falls backwards, your trembling hands shooting out instinctively to catch the woman as she heavily falls onto you.
You stumble from the sudden weight of her, and the cold sensation suddenly increases tenfold. You look upwards to see the dementors once more descending downwards towards where the three of you are gathered near the cell door. You feel frozen not just by the cold, but by fear as the dark creatures are now closer than ever before. You can’t even bring yourself to flinch as one dips low enough to be an arm’s length away, instead desperately looking downwards towards the Auror practically in your lap. You see the slightly glassy eyed Madam Thistlewood focus on them before the feeling of apparating suddenly crushes you from all sides.
You can confidently say that apparating is now low on your list of favorite uses of magic, the sensation nearly having knocked you off your feet the first time you experienced it coming to Azkaban but now succeeding in doing so as you and Madam Thistlewood drop unceremoniously in front of her home. You pant slightly as you scramble back up to your feet, Madam Thistlewood failing to do the same as she grimaces on her hands and knees in the dirt.
“You’re hurt.” You dumbly say, your own voice slightly foreign to your ears as the unusually loud sound of your heartbeat muffles your hearing. You take a step forward, unsure what you can do to help but willing to try before Madam Thistlewood is looking up at you in pain.
“Go. The cave. You’re safe now. You have what you need. I’ll be alright once I get-” She grits out, another pained cry cutting off her words as she suddenly apparartes away once more, this time leaving you behind.
You stand staring at the spot where she was occupying before disappearing, the dust gently settling back down onto the dirt pathway from both of your scrambling. You close your eyes, trying to will the warmth of the quickly setting sun to halt the slight trembling that is wracking through your entire body, unsure if this is an effect of the dementors or simply shock from what you had just experienced. Either way, the sun seems to do nothing for you, the usual warmth you would feel from the final evening rays doing nothing to cut through the deep chill in your bones.
Upper Hogsfield. Ruins. Cave. Vault.
You repeat the information you have on Jackdaw’s cave to yourself as you continue to sway slightly in the seemingly useless light of the sun, the warmth of its rays failing to reach you as your mind remains clouded from the unsettling turn of events you just witnessed. You jerkily turn your body towards the direction you know you are meant to be going, shuffling up the dirt path and towards the town square. You pass by Mrs. Sprottle, the older woman calling out to you in greeting but falling on deaf ears as you continue to shuffle down the road.
Upper Hogsfield. Ruins. Cave. Vault.
You are walking down a sloping path, wondering why it is even called Upper Hogsfield if the winding pathways all seem to slope annoyingly downwards. The shaking of your body makes it difficult to maintain your footing as you stumble slightly, the action causing you to crash harshly into the wall of what you have always assumed is some sort of brewery. You lean against some of the barrels, your vision growing darker around the edges in a way that you can’t quite blame on the quickly setting sun, and while you felt earlier as though the warmth of the sun was entirely absent, the vanishing rays of light prove that there must’ve been some sort of effect since you now feel far colder than before.
You need help.
You wonder if you can make it to where Claire Beaumont’s stall is located. She is always singing your praises for helping with Upper Hogsfield’s goblin problem, her cheery compliments covering what you know is a still painful feeling of grief for the fate of her brother. Still, she always seems genuinely happy to see you when you stop by, so you think there is a good chance she will at least try to help you.
You push up off the barrel, your hand shooting out to support your stumbling form on the wall of the building as you head back upwards towards the town square. You feel lost in the growing dark, coming face to face with the back of the building that you know has Madam Beaumont’s stall on the other side. You follow the back of the building, the combination of your tunneling vision and the darkening sky having you feel disoriented as you unknowingly pass by where you should’ve turned.
Rather than coming around the back of Madam Beaumont’s stall you are walking across the wood planks of an elevated outdoor bar, the seats almost entirely empty other than a gruff looking barman and someone vaguely familiar on one of the stools. You squint for a moment in an effort to identify either man until the barman makes eye contact with you, his gruff face lit ominously by the dim lighting and only increasing your chilled feeling.
You turn around to make your way back down towards the building you were just leaning against as you hear a low murmuring from the two men behind you. You’re sure if you didn’t already feel like you were dying you would be dying of embarrassment after accidentally stumbling into what is now clearly an adult space and interrupting them. You think that you hear their voice elevate, but you are unphased by what you hope is some sort of drunken discussion rather than them yelling at you. After being verbally abused by countless prisoners today, you simply don’t have the energy for it. Ignoring them, you continue your stilted walk down the steps and back into the dirt.
How you even walked up the steps without noticing, you’ll never know.
Suddenly a hand is on your shoulder, the feeling not even putting you on edge as it normally would as you simply accept the reality of a hand being there in the slight haze in your mind. In fact, its so warm in comparison to the icy feeling still emanating from beneath your own skin that you don’t even mind the sudden hand you’ve acquired.
You are turned around by the hand, the light of the bar illuminating a familiarly scarred face and green coat as you are now looking at the slightly shocked face of Professor Sharp. What is he even doing out here? It's not like he knows about the pages, right?
“What pages? What are you mumbling about?” Professor Sharp asks, his voice cutting through the fuzzy feeling in your head as you continue to try to sap the warmth from his hand on your shoulder. You feel as though you are still swaying slightly from instability, the chills still working through you feeling more powerful now that they are contrasted by the firm grip of Professor Sharp.
“Amos you didn’t serve a student did you?”
“Of course I didn’t! You’ve been here for as long as I have, Aesop. I would think you’d notice a Hufflepuff drinking firewhisky next to you.”
Firewhisky. A fire would be nice right about now. It would probably stop the cold.
“Don’t even think about it. ” Professor Sharp humorlessly replies even though you are fairly sure you didn’t say anything. He is leaning down now as he inspects your face closer in the light, his face twisting with concern. “Did you drink something tonight?”
Your vision is still dark and hazy around the edges as you suddenly are aware of how harshly you’ve been breathing this entire time, the chill of the nearly autumnal air only making each inhale feel more ragged and painful as it only serves to increase the frozen feeling in your chest. All at once your chest and throat tighten, almost as though becoming aware of your breathing has made it entirely impossible to actually do.
“I- I can’t-” You stutter out, remembering now that the entire point of you walking this way was to get help. You raise your hands slightly, the trembling appendages hovering above your chest as you try to articulate the issue. “Help- crushing me. The cold. I- I can’t breathe.”
Professor Sharp now has both hands on your shoulders, his firm and warm grip being the only thing keeping you standing as you feel the trembling of your body threaten to bring you down to your knees. Even with his aid you feel your knees buckle, and as you start to lower to the ground you are distinctly aware that Professor Sharp is crouching in front of you as he helps you sit back against a wood post rather than falling forwards onto your face.
Your knees are laid out flat in front of you before Professor Sharp gently bends each leg, your trembling hands instinctively gripping your now raised knees for support before your head is directed down between your knees. You feel almost trapped in this position, unsure if you want to curl up even tighter to be safer or if you want to stand back up and bolt. Before you can make a decision on what to do, you tune into another sensation.
Professor Sharp’s hand is still pressed against the back of your neck to keep your head down, a calloused thumb moving back and forth just beneath your hairline in an almost comforting manner. You are aware that Professor Sharp is saying something from his crouched position in front of you from the low rumbling sound of his voice meeting your ears, though it's impossible to hear anything over your own ragged breathing.
From between your knees you can see the tips of his shoes and his other hand, his elbow most likely resting on one of his own knees. The hand seems to be moving back and forth in an exaggerated way, the steady motion in tandem with the thumb still moving in slow circles on the back of your neck. You blink harshly as you struggle to remain focused on the rhythmic movement, but soon the warmth of his hand pushes past the haze of your mind and you find yourself breathing shallowly in time with him. You squeeze your eyes shut as you try to breathe in time with the circular motions of his thumb, the comforting pressure of the warm hand on your neck grounding you more firmly into reality as you continue the impromptu breathing exercise.
You feel a pounding on the ground as you slide your eyes back open, now feeling more aware of your surroundings as your breathing grows calmer. Slightly muddy and worn down boots enter your vision just to the right of Professor Sharp, a glass of water being placed gently next to the professor’s still moving hand. You can tell by the slight shift of the hand still on your neck that Professor Sharp has turned to talk to the man- Amos if you remember correctly- though the rhythmic motions continue from both hands even as he is distracted momentarily.
You still feel slightly chilled, but as you swallow uncomfortably from your crouched position you realize how dry your throat has become. You take a couple of deeper breaths before moving your head upwards, the hand on the back of your neck sliding back to rest back on your shoulder as Professor Sharp and the barman both look your way.
Your tremors have subsided significantly, your hand almost steady with only a slight tremble as you reach over your knees towards the glass of water. Professor Sharp is quick to hand the glass to you, only removing his own hand from the glass once he is satisfied that you aren’t about to drop it into your own lap. After a couple of slow sips you quickly drain the glass, gulping the water eagerly almost as though you haven’t had water in days. The empty glass is taken from you once more, Professor Sharp handing it back to Amos before nudging his head towards the bar in a clear dismissal.
You watch the man walk away back towards the still empty bar before your attention is redirected by Professor Sharp gently waving a hand in front of your face. You feel slightly sluggish as you turn your head to look back at the professor, his face somehow both deeply concerned but also focused, eyebrows pitched upwards in concern but with eyes that look almost calculating.
The latent need to get off the ground that you felt earlier suddenly returns with full force, the impending interrogation that you are expecting from Professor Sharp bringing back the feeling of being trapped from your position on the ground. You quickly press your palms to the ground to push yourself up, Professor Sharp’s eyes widening a bit at the sudden motion as he holds out steadying hands your way.
“Careful. The last thing we need is you standing too quickly and putting us right back where we started.” He warns, standing before you get the chance to try to do the same yourself and holding his hands out towards you to help you up.
You accept the help, being tugged to your feet before a hand on your shoulder is leading you up the wooden steps and into the nearest seat. You watch as Professor Sharp shakes out his bad leg before sitting down across from you, guilt bubbling slightly in your stomach as you think about how long he remained crouched next to you on the ground.
Now that you are no longer panicking and the slight tremor in your hands from the still everpresent chill you feel is the only evidence of your little…episode, it seems that Professor Sharp is back to normal as well. His face is carefully blank, similar to the stern no-nonsense persona that you see in potions class. His eyes are set in an overly observant way that is slightly uncomfortable to be on the receiving end of, and you try to ignore how they cut slightly to your shaky hands on the table, eyes narrowing before returning to your face once more.
“Sorry I- I don’t know what-” You begin before being cut off by Professor Sharp holding up his hand to stop you.
“I need to know what happened to you this evening. Were you attacked? Were you cursed?” He sternly asks, his voice sounding more strained than usual as he gets to the final question of you being potentially cursed. You paid a visit to Anne Sallow recently- a visit that ended rather disastrously for everyone as Sebastian’s Uncle caused quite the scene- so you aren’t surprised that the possibility of another student being cursed off school grounds was in the forefront of Professor Sharp’s mind.
You are quick to shake your head no in response, Professor Sharp seeming to lose just a sliver of tension at your silent confirmation that you are unharmed. Even so, he seems less than satisfied with your nonverbal response, so you decide to try to salvage whatever dignity you might have left while also not revealing anything that could potentially trace back to Professor Fig or ancient magic.
“I’m fine. I just got a bit- well I think I just was a bit spooked by something is all.” You try not to wince as your excuse sounds pathetic even to your own ears. Professor Sharp’s expression cracks, his eyebrow pitching upwards in an unamused way as you slouch slightly in your seat. Yeah, not your greatest attempt at lying. That might’ve been worse than when you were caught by Ominis outside of the Undercroft.
“You were stumbling around in the dark, mumbling incoherently, breathing so erratically that you nearly fainted, and you are still shaking. Do you want to try again to make up something more believable, or should we just get to what actually happened?” Professor Sharp presses in a matter of fact tone, his voice taking on a familiar edge that he usually reserves for Garreth as he blatantly accuses you of lying.
He was correct of course, but it still stung.
“I just-” You start, prepared to try to double down on your terrible lie before you look down at your still trembling hands. You don’t even feel cold anymore, like you did back in Azkaban with the dementors, and yet your hands still have a faint tremor to them every now and then.
Maybe you really do need help.
“You just?” Professor Sharp replies, trailing off as he repeats your words back to you almost as though he can coax you into finishing the sentence. Looking back up at the man you see his face is no longer set into that carefully blank expression from earlier.
His eyes still look inquisitive, almost as though he can figure this all out on his own, but he now looks genuinely concerned as well. His eyebrows are furrowed upwards slightly as his face is now in a more open expression. Something about it has you wanting to tell him the truth, but you know that this whole thing is bigger than just going on an impromptu field trip to Azkaban.
The pages could easily lead back to Professor Fig and ancient magic if you aren’t careful.
“Why are you in Upper Hogsfield, professor?” You ask instead, catching Professor Sharp slightly off guard as he raises an eyebrow at the sudden change of subject. You half expect him to ignore the question in favor of continuing to press you for answers, but he surprises you by leaning back a bit in his chair almost in a relaxed way. Somehow seeing him less on edge puts you at ease as well, and you are even more surprised when he begins to actually answer your question.
“Amos and I go way back. We were both in slytherin during my time at Hogwarts as a student, and when I took the teaching position here I remembered he lived in the area and sent an owl. Turns out he owns this lovely establishment, and it's far enough from Hogwarts that I usually don’t run into students.” Professor Sharp explains, giving you a pointed look with his last statement. You look away from Professor Sharp with the silent accusation of you being somewhere you aren’t meant to, instead looking towards the bar where Amos is still standing.
Amos seems to have started listening in since Professor Sharp mentioned his name, and you’re starting to feel guilty for feeling frightened by Amos’ outward appearance earlier in your panicked state. He still has a gruff appearance with his stocky frame and dark, slightly stringy hair framing his face, but with how he rolls his eyes at Professor Sharp's jab about his bar before looking at you with an expression that clearly is meant to be mimicking Professor Sharp’s usual expression in class, you can’t help but feel more comfortable with his presence.
You must’ve cracked a small smile at Amos’ silent jab at Professor Sharp, because the former Auror is soon turning himself to look at him as well. The barman is suddenly very interested in cleaning what appears to be an already clean glass as Professor Sharp lets out an annoyed huff.
“Now that you know why I am here, I think it's only fair that you tell me the same. That is, unless you also know Amos from the class of ‘76?” Professor Sharp asks, though unlike when he was pressing you for information before he still seems to have a more casual air about him.
“Do you know the Auror that lives just a bit up the way?” You ask while gesturing up the path, and while Professor Sharp looks slightly irritated at you asking him another question rather than just telling him what he wants to know, it is quickly replaced with slight confusion as he considers your change of subject.
“I’ve never met her, but I know of Helen Thistlewood. She was apparently quite the Auror back in the day, but we were in different departments for the short period that our time with the Ministry overlapped. Why do you ask?”
“I was with her earlier today. There is a portrait of her great-uncle in the Hufflepuff common room and he asked me to visit.” You answer, though Professor Sharp looks more confused than before, holding a hand up to stop you from continuing.
“What was in it for you, or do you always just do what portraits ask of you? You shouldn't assume that a portrait is trustworthy just because they are hanging in the Hufflepuff common room, you know.” Professor Sharp admonishes, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes at the clear implication that you were dumb enough to be tricked by Minister Diggory’s portrait.
“Minister Diggory knew I was looking for some missing pages in a book I lifted from Peeves. It is actually an interesting read on the history of Hogwarts and seems to be a rare edition. Anyway, some pages were ripped out and Minister Diggory thought that his great-niece had a good lead on it.” You explain, hoping that the partial truth mixed with the story that you’ve heard so far about Jackdaw would come across as plausible. Jackdaw took the pages from Peeves afterall, so it can’t be that unbelievable.
Professor Sharp is sitting up slightly straighter now, his eyes narrowing suspiciously as he takes in your response. You think for a moment that he is going to press you for more information or even call you out on your half-truth, but instead he takes a deep breath before gesturing for you to go on.
“Madam Thistlewood did have some idea of where the pages might’ve been. Apparently the book was owned by a student some time ago who was murdered and Madam Thistlewood was the Auror on the case at the time. She thinks that the girl who was sent to Azkaban was actually innocent, and since I was already looking into the student and she wanted answers we went to Azka-” You know you are slightly rambling, but a sharp inhale of breath from Professor Sharp has you stopping mid-sentence. Professor Sharp’s eyes are almost comically wide with shock, though the harsh set of his jaw makes it impossible to so much as think of his expression as anything but serious.
“Are you telling me that a retired Auror took a student to Azkaban? Even if she were to go through the proper channels there is no way that- you know what? No. This isn’t a conversation where you are going to explain things to me.” At that Professor Sharp is pushing himself to his feet, chair scraping noisily against the wood planks below as he looks towards the direction of Madam Thistlewood’s house.
“Sir, wait! She isn’t even home right now.” You practically shout, and thankfully Professor Sharp has only had the chance to take a few strides away from the table before he stops. He swivels around, and you almost feel taken aback by how angry he looks. At this point you are unsure if the look is actually meant to be directed towards you or if it is meant for Madam Thistlewood, but either way you find it difficult to look him in the eye for long as you redirect your eyes downward.
“And where exactly did she go after your little excursion to the most dangerous location in this corner of the wizarding world?” He bites out, standing behind his seat and crossing his arms angrily across his chest.
“I- I don’t know. She was attacked and- well I don’t even know what it was a-and-” You try to explain, but thinking about it all suddenly has the tight feeling returning to your chest. You aren’t even sure what Anne did to her, just that Madam Thistlewood seemed seriously hurt before she left you behind.
“Alright, let’s just calm down.” Professor Sharp carefully comments, lowering himself back into his chair. You aren’t sure why, but you start to nod your head in response to his instruction and you try your best to breathe through the wave of panic.
You can’t help but feel pathetic at your reaction as you close your eyes to focus on not slipping back into a panicked state. You have faced things far worse than this. The dragon attack. Ranrok at Gringotts. Trolls in Hogsmeade. All of those times you were actually fighting for your life, but for some reason this has you feeling shaken beyond all those other experiences.
“Amos, I don’t suppose you would happen to have any chocolate on you, would you?” Professor Sharp calls out, disrupting your spiraling thoughts as well as Amos from whatever busywork he has occupied himself with.
“Is now really the time to satisfy that sweet tooth of yours, Aesop?” Amos sarcastically replies, though he is still reaching towards one of the lower shelves behind the bar at Professor Sharp’s question before moving towards where the two of you are sitting.
“Are you thick? It's for the kid.” Professor Sharp asks, annoyance bleeding into his voice as he swipes the small foil covered bar from Amos before waving him away. Amos rolls his eyes at the action, giving you a worried glance before making his way back towards the bar to greet some wandering patrons. You didn’t even notice some of the seats beginning to fill up around the bar, but before you can look around any further you are looking down towards where Professor Sharp has pushed the chocolate bar into your hands.
“Even if she has absolutely abysmal decision-making skills, I can’t imagine that Thistlewood wasn’t at least competent enough to keep the dementors away from you both during your little mission.” Professor Sharp comments, though his raised brow reveals that he is still somewhat asking you if what he said is true.
“She stopped them from getting too close, but still it just felt so…” You trail off, and at your confirmation that the dementors didn’t really cause any harm you can see a bit of tension bleed off of the man before he gestures for you to unwrap the chocolate warming in your hands.
“I can imagine that Azkaban was quite the harrowing experience for someone unprepared- a child no less. Even if the dementors didn’t get the chance to try anything, I’m sure their presence was oppressive enough to leave some lingering negative effects.” Professor Sharp explains as you slowly peel back the foil of the chocolate bar before breaking off a piece to eat.
You find yourself nodding in agreement with Professor Sharp’s statement as you chew the chocolate slowly. Even as you swallow the first bite you already feel far better than before. You hadn’t realized how much the dementors had truly affected you, but now that you have been relieved of the oppressive sensation you can’t imagine how you hadn’t noticed it before.
You both sit in silence as you finish the chocolate bar, tension seeming to seep right out of you and be absorbed by the man sitting across from you as time goes on. While your posture loosens, shoulders relaxing and hands finally free of the tremors that have plagued you since entering Azkaban, Professor Sharp seems to be experiencing the opposite.
He sits rigidly, shoulders stiff and hands clasped in an almost white knuckled embrace where they rest on the table. He is looking out towards the pathway where you had stumbled from, jaw set and brows furrowed as if he could summon Madam Thistlewood with an angry glance. You begin to fiddle with the foil wrapper, brushing the small crumbs of chocolate out before beginning to fold the edges over themselves in your hands nervously, the crinkling of your action drawing Professor Sharp’s attention as he turns back towards you.
“Thistlewood. When did you both part ways?” Professor Sharp suddenly asks, his voice matching the serious expression on his face. “Was it before or after she was attacked? Were you there?”
“The woman we went to meet- Anne Thisbe. She attacked Madam Thistlewood while we were there. It was…well I don’t know what she did to her but Madam Thistlewood seemed really hurt. She apparated us back to her home before just apparating away. I don’t know where she went.” You answer, hoping you covered all of Professor Sharp’s questions while trying to ignore the pit that is growing in your chest. Madam Thistlewood was in a bad way when she left you in Upper Hogsfield. She could barely even speak before going to wherever she went, and yet instead of finding help for her you stumbled around until dark and nearly passed out yourself.
Professor Sharp takes in your answer, folding his arms across his chest as he looks lost in thought for only a moment before turning back to look across the open-air bar towards Amos. You aren’t sure what catches the man’s attention, but soon he and Professor Sharp seem to be silently communicating even as Amos serves one of the few patrons sharing the outdoor space with you three. Whatever it is they are somehow getting across to one another, it ends with Amos raising an eyebrow as Professor Sharp’s shrugs before rolling his eyes and refocusing on whatever it is he is pouring behind the bar. Professor Sharp lets out an amused huff before moving to stand, shooting you an expectant look before you move to follow him.
You take a fortifying breath before standing, finding that you feel significantly more steady than before as you move to follow the slow pace of Professor Sharp away from Amos and the bar. You are thankful for the slower pace Professor Sharp has set as you walk back up towards Madam Thistlewood’s home. You make sure to wave at a concerned Mrs. Sprottle as you pass her home, the older woman looking relieved as she notices the Professor accompanying you before she moves to go into her home for the evening.
Professor Sharp leaves you at the path as he goes to knock harshly on Madam Thistlewood’s door. The windows are dark, not even a fire going to indicate anyone is home as Professor Sharp’s second round of knocking continues to get no response.
“I told you, she isn’t home. There is a huge portrait in there though if you want to try calling for him.” You mumble, avoiding the irritated glance Professor Sharp shoots your way before he comes down the steps and back towards you.
“Here I was hoping that today’s events would have dissuaded you from talking to portraits.” He dryly replies, and you can’t ignore the indignant feeling blooming in your stomach from the jab.
Slytherins can be such a pain.
“If you think the portrait is so dodgy, why is he even hanging in Hogwarts?” You hotly reply, Earning another sidelong glance from Professor Sharp.
“Trust me, all the portraits in my commonroom are thoroughly vetted. It seems I will need to speak to Professor Garlick about doing the same.”
This time you bite your tongue, your next response sure to get you detention scrubbing cauldrons alongside Garreth for the next month. Professor Sharp lets out an amused huff as he refocuses back on the pathway ahead of you both, the floo flame coming into view as you both slowly make your way over. Professor Sharp throws out a handful of powder, declaring the name of the Faculty Tower floo flame before gesturing for you to go ahead of him.
“Go straight to the Hospital Wing and let Madam Blainey know I sent you for the night. Tell her you had dementor exposure and don’t you dare think about sneaking away as I will be checking in on you when I return.” He sternly instructs, raising an impatient eyebrow as you remain rooted in the spot rather than moving towards the flame. He lets out an annoyed huff before speaking sternly once more. “That wasn’t a request. We don’t have all night to just stand around Upper Hogsfield”
“Professor…is Madam Thistlewood going to be in trouble?” You mumble, trying to think of something you could say to help the retired Auror before she has to face the full wrath of the former Auror in front of you. Professor Sharp stands still for a moment, simply blinking at you before scrubbing a hand over his face with a sigh.
“Hufflepuffs I swear…that isn’t something you should be worried about. Madam Thistlewood is an adult and she definitely should’ve known better than to take a student to Azkaban. Though, whatever consequences she might face will have to wait. You said she was hurt and she apparated somewhere unknown, correct?”
You quickly nod your head in affirmation to the question before Professor Sharp continues.
“If that truly is the case, people need to be notified. Apparating is dangerous, especially if you aren’t in good shape. She could be splinched or worse. I’m going to ask around for her next of kin, notify them of her situation, and once we are all sure she is well and safe I will...speak with her about responsibility and common sense.”
While he seems far calmer than before, you can’t help but feel a slight shiver go down your spine at the bitter tone Professor Sharp takes on at the end of his statement. You wonder briefly if non-students can be assigned cauldron duty from Professor’s as well before Professor Sharp clearing his throat pulls you out of your thoughts of detention once more.
“Floo. Hospital Wing. Rest. Just try to put today out of your mind. I’ll see you in the morning and you can pester me about your new dodgy portrait and imbecilic Auror ‘friends’ then.” He instructs, his tone kinder than the expression on his face as he looks towards the floo then back to you sternly.
This time you simply nod in response, taking a step towards the still burning green flame. You prepare for floo travel for a moment before stepping forwards entirely, the hazy green form of Professor Sharp watching you blurring until you close your eyes and reopen them back in the halls of Hogwarts.