Fossick

Fossick

Disclaimer: Jo'd be fair stamagastered gin she kent fit I wis deein wi' her chiels.

Translation: Scots / Doric – Ms Rowling would be a little bemused if she knew what I was doing with her boys.

"I'm sorry, sir, it still isn't clear to me who took the Sword of Gryffindor and why."

The dark-haired wizard allowed himself a small smile. Sometimes he enjoyed this job.

~*~

The persistent pressure in his bladder increased, and his brain crept out of sleep and into wakefulness. Aware he would have to get up and make himself presentable before breakfast, Severus suppressed a groan and rolled out of bed. Stretching and rubbing his arm and bruised head did nothing to relieve the nagging aches.

The reflection frowning back at him from the bathroom mirror looked raddled. Dark smudges under his eyes were testament to a poor night's sleep when his overwrought brain had refused to switch off. He had lain in bed, arms behind his head, staring at the darkened ceiling for hours before falling into a fitful doze. He could never understand why it was the nights when his body was physically spent and dog-tired his mind always decided to go into overdrive.

Leaning heavily on the sink's porcelain, he rested his forehead against the mirror's coolness, noting another purple bruise near his hairline as he did so. With the Dark Lord becoming so much more vicious, it took more energy to continually heal all the smaller wounds. Poppy treated the major stuff, and his robes would cover most minor injuries, but he'd have to remember to spell the visible ones away before taking his place at the staff dining table.

His arm still ached where the infernal Longbottom boy had stabbed him with the Gryffindor Sword.

And there lay another conundrum, which he had yet to unravel. Why were such an unlikely trio stealing the sword, and where was it now? Perhaps he should call them in to his office for interrogation after they served their detentions.

Inhaling the sandalwood-scented steam rising from the filling basin, Severus tried approaching the problem from a different angle. As he leant over and splashed water on his pillow-creased face, he pondered who could have ordered the theft.

Certainly not one of the Death Eaters, given the three students involved, and he doubted if many of the Dark Lord's minions would be aware of the sword's existence, let alone its inherent powers. Whoever wanted it wasn't looking for any old weapon, nor, he suspected, were they seeking the Gryffindor treasure for its school house connection. They had a specific requirement, for which only Godric's goblin-honed blade would be suitable.

He scrubbed the back of his neck roughly as he scrolled through a list of potential suspects in his head. Starting with people inside the castle, working through the teachers and their known associates, moving on to students' families, contacts outside the castle, mentally he crossed off names as he thought of them until he got to members of the Order of the Phoenix.

"That's it," he said to his dripping reflection as he reached for a towel. "Lupin, you great wassock."

~*~

Snape cast a discreet cleaning charm on the stained leatherette before sliding onto the bench seat opposite the shabby looking wizard. Keeping his sleeves clear of the drink-sticky table top, he accepted the pint Lupin handed him.

"Top class establishment," he commented, scanning the room.

"It's handy, and being down by the docks, it's open all day for the passing trade."

"At least with that metal band playing I don't need to cast a Muffliato," Snape said, raising his voice and leaning across the table to make himself heard.

Lupin grinned in response. "It has its bonuses. There's no snobbery or prejudice in this pub. Plus, nobody will look twice at us in here." He nodded towards the bar's eclectic clientele of leather-clad heavy metal fans, sartorially elegant city gentlemen, safety-boot shod dockworkers and student layabouts.

"They must get a few dodgy characters coming in. Did you see the sign in the gents' toilet asking patrons to not eat the urinal cakes?" Snape took a cautious sip of his beer then held the glass at arm's length to examine it. "And, what's this you've given me?"

"Skull Splitter. They're threatening to sell it only in half pints from now on because sooks like you can't handle it." With a feral grin, Remus took a long draught from his pint then wiped the froth from his lips with the back of his sleeve. "Ah, that's just the berries. If you don't like it, I could always get you a Snakebite."

Severus muttered something about daft mongrels into his beer.

"All right, Snape, what did you want me for?" asked Lupin. "I'm sure it wasn't just for sociable chit-chat, a couple of drinks and a gubbing on the arcade racing game."

~*~

Another bloody hangover, Severus thought, gently massaging his temples without opening his eyes. It felt like Thorfinn Skullsplitter was inside his head, hacking his way out with a vicious, Viking axe. Vowing he would never go drinking with Lupin again, the rumpled wizard crawled out of bed and dressed carefully with the minimum of rapid movement.

What made things worse was the fact he had gained no further knowledge about the theft of the Gryffindor Sword and had somehow agreed to teach the Granger girl how to brew Wolfsbane. How did Lupin do that? The werewolf had managed to turn an inquisition into an acquisition. Severus shook his head in admiration, but immediately regretted it and clasped his skull with a groan.

His hands sifted through the potions cabinet, automatically picking out headache and hangover cures. As he tipped them into his mouth, he mulled over his schedule for the day. A quick staff meeting before classes started, where he'd have to remember to thank Minerva for looking after the school whilst he was out last night. He could already envisage her tight-lipped nod of acknowledgement liberally laced with disapproval.

To be followed by a morning of book balancing, which Filius Flitwick would end up looking over for him, 'not that I don't trust you, Severus, but a double-check is always wise'.

Then, after lunch, he had a meeting with the Board of Governors seeking extra funding for replacing study books. Severus knew it was an exercise in futility. As headmaster, he would put forward his case, the board would nod sagely and say they understood, but in these hard times their hands were bound. He would thank them for their time.

But, as they were leaving, one of the arrogant gits would offer him, as head of house rather than as headmaster, some new brooms for the Slytherin Quidditch team, which had been using the same brooms since last term, the poor lambs. He would smile thinly and accept with an inward smirk because he knew he could flog the old brooms and buy the much-needed reference books. Deal done.

After that fiasco, he would be ready for dinner. Some clootie-dumpling with custard tonight to line the stomach before he had to chair another student representatives' gathering would be nice. On second thoughts, Severus realised a heavy, steamed pudding sitting in his belly might send him to sleep when he really needed to be on the case. Tonight there were at least two of his four house reps he wanted to have a bit of a chat with.

Pushing lank hair back from his face then pulling his robes around him, Professor Snape prepared himself mentally for the day ahead before striding out into the school corridors.

~*~

Ten minutes of peace and quiet before the student reps arrived. Ten minutes of feet up, chilling out on the couch with a cup of tea and no demands. It wasn't much to ask for, but as he pushed open the door at the top of the stairs and found a blonde-haired student lying sprawled on his office floor, Snape was reminded his life rarely ran as he expected.

Severus closed his eyes briefly, hoping this was not really happening, but when he opened them again Lovegood was still there, and he felt his pleasant dream melt away and the unusual Ravenclaw's reality intrude.

Snape was at her side in a couple of strides, looking down his long nose into her gently smiling face. He pinched the bridge of his nose and inhaled deeply before asking, "Miss Lovegood, what are you doing?"

"Observing your oculus." Without looking at him, she patted the floor next to her. "This really is the best position; come and have a look."

Against his better judgement, Severus gazed up at the ceiling.

"You'll only get a crick in your neck if you do that, Professor." She patted the floor again. "Down here and look up."

"Whatever she asks, I'd do as she says if I were you, young man."

"On the floor, Headmaster Black?"

"Please, humour her."

"This is most..." Words failed him. Snape realised there was probably more to this than met the eye, knowing the ex-headmaster and the eccentric Ravenclaw. Feeling manipulated into their lunacy, he supposed there was only one way to find out.

"Resistance is futile, Severus, young man."

With a resigned sigh, Snape lowered himself to the floor. He lay down on his back with his head near Lovegood's and his body stretched away in the other direction. Lacing his long-fingered hands across the flat of his belly, he looked up through the circular hole in the domed roof and out at the starry night sky. The air around his face seemed cooler and clearer than the normal atmosphere of his office.

"See that."

"It's Orion, Miss Lovegood."

"It's a bit early in the year for him. Do you think it's a sign?"

"No, it's a constellation."

"I don't think it's a sign either, which means we're on the same wavelength, Professor. I find omens and portents and such like so confusing, don't you? Give me clear facts any day."

"Indeed." Snape's tone was only slightly sceptical.

"See how his belt and sword are right in the middle? Did you know, in the southern hemisphere, his sword doesn't hang down from his belt, it... um... goes, you know..." Luna pointed upwards with a pale finger.

Snape snorted a small laugh.

"But I'm not here to talk about Orion's sword, Headmaster. We need to talk about the other one."

Immediately, the blonde witch had Snape's full attention, but this was probably not information which should be shared. He rose onto an elbow, his eyes skimming the walls in a rapid check of which portraits might be listening. Luna's light touch on his shoulder urged him to lie back down again.

"Uncle Phin advised me of this 'loophole'. If you keep low, with your head directly below the oculus, none of the portraits can see you, nor can they hear. For some reason, the sound travels directly up and out of the hole in the roof. It's like... magic." Luna's voice sounded dreamy.

"Miss Lovegood...ˮ

"Please, don't interrupt. We don't have much time before everyone arrives."

Severus pressed his lips together to prevent a cutting riposte from escaping.

"You understand I can't mention any names because I wouldn't want to get into any trouble."

"Any more trouble, you mean, young lady."

Luna ignored his comment. "Nor would I wish to cause you any problems. Uncle Phin has explained to me what is happening outside the castle with You-Know-Who. I'm not sure if he overheard something or is just being his usual clever self. Apparently, the sword may be useful to some friends of ours who are off campus at the moment for their part in the campaign. I am led to believe, because they've never been removed from the school roll, they can still access our facilities. Wouldn't it be nice if that could continue?"

Luna didn't wait for a reply before carrying on. "The sword is safe, and clever old Uncle Phin knows where there is a replica, which could be stowed away in a more public manner as a decoy. He said if we fossicked about in the Room of Requirement, we'd find one."

"Why..."

"No time for interruptions, Professor." Luna continued, "I've persuaded my uncle to act as go-between for you so you can make contact and sort things out. I know you and my friends are much better at planning and strategy than I am, though I have offered to help if the Horny Gollochs are causing too much trouble."

Snape's mouth gaped a little as he tried to formulate a reply.

"Oh! And they need food."

Severus frowned as Luna got to her feet and extended a hand to him.

"I do believe our time is up. Up you come, Professor. Enough lying around relaxing."

Draco was the first of the student representatives through the office door, and he scowled at the sight of the headmaster being helped to his feet by the petite blonde. More confusing was the slightly bemused look on Snape's face. He wasn't sure what had been going on, but Malfoy decided he'd have to keep a closer eye on both of them.

~*~

Severus sat at his desk, scarcely paying attention to the meeting. First it was Lupin, and now the Black/Lovegood folie-à-deux coercing him into aiding them. He hated having decisions foisted on him, but it looked as if he had little choice but to get in contact with the annoying, but mercifully absent, Gryffindor trio. He shuddered at the thought.

Thankfully, Malfoy and Lovegood had managed to work together long enough to provide a workable roster for the Quidditch pitches. As he perused it, his mind drifted off even further. The idea of jumping on a broom and playing a fast, competitive game of Quidditch on a clear night like this was enticing. He glanced up at the ceiling and, seeing the stars through the oculus, remembered how much he used to enjoy a quick night-time run out with the other staff members.

They hadn't had a game for a long time, with the recent troubles.

Snape wondered if any of the other teachers would still be interested. Hooch and Sinistra? Probably. Minerva? Maybe. He knew how competitive the tough Scot could be. It was a shame Lupin wasn't a staff member any longer; he was always good for a bit of rough-and-tumble. Snape flushed, embarrassed by how that thought would have sounded out loud.

Who was on duty tonight? The Carrows. Dare he leave the school corridors to their ministrations? No, definitely not, he thought. In fact, the children under his care needed extra protection from those two. Issues of student safety had been discussed at this morning's staff meeting. McGonagall and her cronies had suggested a more rigid curfew, for older students to escort youngsters to prevent them getting lost and curtailment of all unnecessary outdoor activities, 'to relieve the poor, overworked Carrows of some stress'. Alecto and Amycus had clearly been unhappy at the idea of losing some of their pupil-tormenting entertainment, but that strict old witch, Minerva, had got her way eventually.

Sighing and shifting in his chair, he pulled his gaze away from the starry night sky and tried to drag his mind back to the reps meeting in progress. A prolonged silence caught his attention, and when he looked around the room, everyone was watching him expectantly. The students seemed most eager for his reply.

"Ye-e-es," he drawled tentatively, not completely certain what was being discussed.

Longbottom's shoulders dipped with relief, and Lovegood beamed at him whereas the Carrows looked furious. Bugger! He'd obviously agreed to something, but couldn't be sure what. Glancing at the chronometer on the wall, he decided he'd had enough for the evening.

"Now we've agreed on that, how about we adjourn for the night?"

As he rose from his desk, the Hufflepuff boy piped up. "What about my topic on the agenda, sir?"

"How about we deal with it first at the next meeting when we are all fresh and eager?" Snape fixed his gaze on the now squirming, flustered boy.

"Until next time my colleagues here will continue with the detention arrangements as before." The Carrows glared at him. Aah! So that was the discussion.

"Mr Malfoy, a word, if you please. Longbottom and Lovegood, Flitch-Fetchers." Severus nodded in the direction of the others, dismissing them.

"It's Finch-Fletchley, sir."

"Of course it is. You'll see to Flitch-Fetching, won't you, Miss Lovegood?"

The Hufflepuff looked confused as Luna smiled dreamily and drifted towards the door. Longbottom was already gone, almost sprinting to get out of the headmaster's office.

~*~

Snape drew Draco closer to the portrait of Phineas Nigellus, keeping his voice low as he spoke. "Headmaster Black and I have a small task for you, Malfoy, if you think you are capable."

The young wizard drew his shoulders back with pride. "It would be an honour to assist two great Slytherin headmasters, sir."

"No need to be so smarmy, young man," sneered Black. "You weren't so great at the last task you were given, were you?"

Draco's cheeks flamed pink. "No, sir," he whispered, his head dropping so neither man could see his eyes.

"We need to be certain which side you are on." Black's voice was also pitched low, not quite a whisper which would have sparked interest in any one of the rooms portraits, but low enough to prevent eavesdropping.

"As I've said, I stand beside Headmaster Snape and align myself with him." Draco raised his head and squared his shoulders, looking both men in the eyes.

Severus squeezed the young man's shoulder. "You're sure?"

Malfoy nodded his confirmation, wondering what interesting, and possibly secretive, task they had in mind.

"Grand! I'm glad we've come to an understanding," said Black. "All I need you to do, young Malfoy, is take care of my dear Luna."

"Lovegood?" Draco's insides slumped. He had envisioned something worthwhile, to atone for his poor showing with the Dumbledore mission, not a babysitting job. His aristocratic upbringing would not let him back down now after he had already agreed. When was he going to learn to find out what the assignment was first before he consented?

"Yes, she's such a delicate child."

Malfoy rubbed his still tender lip. "Luna? Delicate?" He sounded a little disbelieving.

"Indeed, she has a certain ethereal quality." Severus smirked then added, "And Headmaster Black has certain... constraints on how much he can do himself."

"Just so, Snape."

"Luna Lovegood?" Draco repeated, shaking his head. "All I have to do is keep an eye on her, is that right? I don't actually have to... to interact with her, do I?"

"You will keep any interactions absolutely appropriate, young man." Black pinned the young man with a sharp-eyed look. "You'll be very careful with her, won't you, boy?"

When he left the room, Draco's face was the picture of misery. Had he really agreed to act as personal bodyguard for Looney Lovegood? Could life get any worse?

A/N: You all know sunny33 makes this readable. Thanks, clairvoyant, for the admin work.

The pub Severus and Remus visited is based on The Moorings Bar, Aberdeen, Scotland. It used to be one of my favourite last-stop watering holes when in the Silver City. Situated down by the docks, it had a special licence for longer opening hours than most pubs for the passing trade from the sailors. As a result, it also had a passing trade with the ladies who worked the dockside, and it was not unusual to see them coming into the ladies' to freshen up between jobs. The sign about not eating the urinal cakes exists, as does another which says, 'Please note only cubicle number 4 may be used for (quiet) sexual liaisons. The other cubicles are strictly reserved for lavatory function.'

Skull Splitter ale is a double strength beer from Orkney, named after Thorfinn 'Skullsplitter', who was an Earl of Orkney.

Snakebite – a half and half mix of lager and cider. An English publican refused to sell a Snakebite to President Clinton, telling him it was illegal. It isn't illegal; it just can't be sold in half pints because pubs have to give a full measure. A full measure of lager or cider is a half-pint or a pint, so Snakebite can only be sold as a full pint (half a pint of lager and half a pint of cider).

Translations:

Fossick – Australian/New Zealand English – to rummage/search, typically for gold or gemstones in abandoned workings.

Sook – a coward, wimp.

Just the berries – Scottish vernacular – very good.

Gubbing – Scottish vernacular – a beating, defeat, thrashing.

Clootie-dumpling – Scottish – dried fruit-filled, steamed pudding cooked in a cloth (cloot).

Flitch – a side of pork.