Chapter 4: Terrorising

Christmas love for my beta, LariLee, and my Brit-Picker, MagicAlly.

I own nothing. Jo owns everything. Sometimes, she lets me mess around with her toys. Happy Christmas, Jo!

The Christmas Rose

Chapter 4: Terrorizing

Four Weeks Before Christmas

Percy Weasley looked nervously about as he descended into the dungeons at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was not that he was afraid of meeting anyone – Professor Snape, for instance – it was only that he preferred to carry out his self-appointed task without any unpleasantness. Say what you will about Severus Snape, war hero, recipient of the Order of Merlin, First Class – he was an unpleasant git and always had been.

Percy reached the corridor leading to the private rooms of the Potions master and began to make his cautious way in that direction. He had every right to check in with the researchers employed by the Office of Experimental Magical Solutions; he was, after all, the Assistant Head of the office. But he had been cut out of the loop, and he did not like it one bit! It was just wrong for Penny to hole herself up for days with Peregrine Smith and Hermione Snape at Simon Lewis' laboratory and refuse to tell him anything about what they had done. He had accidentally overheard a conversation between Penny and that jumped-up Goodwill Ambassador from Bulgaria, Viktor Krum – who did he think he was anyway? Krum showed up and Penny acted as if Percy were a self-watering houseplant; she paid him no mind at all, just fell all over the belligerent-looking Quidditch player in a disgusting display of unladylike behaviour.

At any rate, he had unintentionally heard a conversation between Penny and Viktor in her office, about a supposed incident which occurred when brewing the Christmas Rose Potion. The telling of the story had been interrupted with revolting sounds of snogging and Merlin-knows-what going on behind Penny's closed office door; unfortunately, the Extendable Ears transmitted all of the noises in the room, little though he wanted to hear that. Of course, he had never purchased Extendable Ears, but he had found a pair of them when he was searching the pockets of George's dragon skin jacket – only for a handkerchief, he would never have put his hands in anyone's pockets, otherwise! – and the Extendable Ears had come in quite handy when Penny was unwilling to include him in all of her planning sessions. She left the administrative tasks involved in running the office completely to his discretion, but that was not what he wanted – he wanted to be in the middle of the excitement of the experiments with the Christmas Rose Potion.

From what he had been able to hear between the snogging, the giggles, and the heavy breathing going on in Penny's office – and how very hard Percy had tried to keep from thinking of when the delectable Penny had been his girlfriend, and had been happy to receive his kisses in quiet corners all around Hogwarts! – from what he had been able to tell, some dodgy goings-on had taken place when the infusion of hellebore was brewed at Simon's lab a couple of weeks before. Penny had spoken of a group charm-casting, from which she claimed to have had a sexual experience! Some people might think Percy was a prosy bore, but he certainly knew what kind of magic brought about random sexual orgasms.

Dark Magic.

And if Severus Snape had been involved in the incident, there might very well have been Dark Magic involved. Snape was, after all, just some reformed Death Eater. And who said he was completely reformed? The higher-ups in the Ministry of Magic might not be too happy to know that Penny had involved a Death Eater in the plans and experiments in their office.

So Percy found himself creeping along the ill-lit, damp dungeon corridor, hoping to find Hermione Snape, so that he could attempt to gather more details about the episode. Percy had been around the Ministry long enough to learn that Knowledge Is Power.

Stealing along the passageway, he glanced at each door, surmising that Hermione's laboratory was probably around here somewhere, but unsure of where, and as befitting a typical man, quite unwilling to ask anyone. Reminding himself that he was a Gryffindor, and therefore brave, he finally chose a door and reached out to grasp the handle.

With startling speed, the door was pulled open, and Percy literally stumbled part-way into what appeared to be a sitting room. The obstacle which halted his head-long acceleration was not a piece of furniture, however – it was a house-elf.

Quirk's week had gone from bad to worse. After trying to tell Mistress about what the kitty-babies had been doing, he resigned himself to simply accepting whatever they did as a normal part of kitty-growing. That these incidences of kitty behaviour included feats of magic which were quite unusual for house cats, in Quirk's experience, was just another one of the facts of life as Master's house-elf that Quirk did not understand.

...because the kitties were strange. Even their parents thought so. At all times, the daddy-kitty sat on the desk chair and watched the kitty-babies with his knowing yellow eyes, save when they were sleeping; then, the daddy-kitty slept, too. The mommy-kitty did all the normal mommy-kitty things, nursing them, grooming them, teaching them to use their litter box – but she did not like it when they did the things which upset Quirk, and he wondered if perhaps the mommy-kitty was unaware that growing kitties get up to mischief, as his Mistress had explained to him.

Somehow, Quirk doubted it.

First of all, there was the smooth black kitty-baby, who looked so much like the mommy-kitty. Sometimes, she was right there in front of Quirk – but sometimes she grew so faint that Quirk could see almost right through her – and sometimes she completely blended into the background. If she was standing in front of the red pillow in the corner, the kitty-baby would become red. If the kitty-baby was standing in front of Master's study bookcase, she would begin to resemble the books before which she stood, which sometimes made it hard for Quirk to find her. Quirk called her Fader, because sometimes he could see her, and sometimes he could not.

Then there was the fluffy black kitty-baby. Sometimes, she would be playing on the floor with the other kitty-babies, and then she would suddenly be on top of the tallest bookshelf. Quirk knew that kitties could climb – but no kitty could climb that high, or leap up there with nothing higher than the floor to leap from. It really bothered the mommy-kitty when the fluffy black kitty would be up on the tallest bookshelf, because the mommy-kitty could not reach the bad kitty-baby. Quirk called her Jumper, because she could go so high.

Next, there was the smooth orange kitty-baby. Sometimes, he would be playing with the other kitty-babies, and then he would simply be gone. Quirk did not know where the bad kitty-baby was when he went away. One time, Quirk had been in the tiny kitchen of Master's quarters, preparing a small meal for himself, sure that the kitties would be fine if left to their own devices for just a few moments. As Quirk was spreading butter on his toast, the smooth orange kitty appeared on the kitchen counter where Quirk was working. Quirk was so startled that he hopped back and squeaked. By the time Quirk had sorted himself out, the smooth orange kitty was gone from the kitchen counter. When he hurried into the study, to make sure he was not imagining things, the smooth orange kitty baby was sprawled on the rug with his siblings piled on top of him. Quirk called the bad, disappearing kitty-baby Blinky, because sometimes Quirk would blink and the kitty-baby would be gone.

The fluffy orange kitty-baby was the one Mistress had checked for a fever on the night Quirk had dared to voice his concerns. There was no other way to say it: sometimes the fluffy orange kitty-baby was on fire. It scared Quirk very badly the first time it happened. One moment, the kitty-baby was tussling with his orange brother on the rug; the next moment, the kitty-baby was an orange ball of flame. Quirk had grabbed a cushion and run over to put the kitty-baby out, like an accidental fire in a rubbish bin, but the kitty-baby had, just as suddenly, stopped burning. Quirk had approached him, and bravely felt the kitty-baby's fluffy orange fur. The kitty-baby was very warm, but he did not appear to be burned, even though he had been on fire. Sometimes, the kitty-baby caught fire when Quirk was right next to him, and Quirk would be singed in places. Quirk called the fluffy orange kitty-baby Flamer.

Last of all, there was the kitty-baby who was splotched with orange and black and white patches; Mistress said the splotched kitty-baby was a "calico." Her little face was neatly bisected, one side black, and one side orange, and her fur was smooth. She nursed with the other kitty babies and frolicked with them on the study rug, but she never faded, or jumped, or blinked, or flamed. The only peculiar thing about the splotched kitty-baby was that she often curled up on the chair with the daddy-kitty and cuddled and groomed and slept. The daddy-kitty never had anything to do with any of the other kitty-babies; he would hiss at them if they tried to climb up into his chair. The splotched kitty baby sometimes got a smoky smell about her, if she was too close to Flamer when he burst into fire, or she would be left on her own if Blinky and Jumper disappeared, as they often seemed to do, though Quirk could still hear them, even when he could not see them. It seemed sad to Quirk that the splotched kitty looked so different, and was left on her own so often. Quirk called the splotched kitty-baby Lonely.

Watching over and keeping up with the kitty-babies was becoming increasingly difficult for Quirk. Lately, he had found Blinky in the bathtub, lapping water from the drain; in the clothes hamper in Master's bedroom, sleeping; and once, curled up on the shelf in the larder, as if waiting for a mouse to dare poke its nose into the kitchen.

Fader had actually disappeared for an entire day earlier in the week; since Quirk could not swear there was anything truly wrong with the fading kitty-baby, he had not dared take his worry to Mistress.

Flamer had taken to bursting into a ball of fire much more frequently. Quirk had actually earned himself a burn on his cheek when the kitty had caught fire just as Quirk was bending over the nest to count heads. Oddly enough, Flamer's siblings and parents were never harmed by the fire he produced; only poor Quirk and the rug and curtains of Master's study had suffered, thus far.

Just this morning, when Quirk had returned to the study from a much-needed trip to the loo, he had found Jumper actually hovering over Master's desk, as if wishing to scope-out the unknown territory of the desk-top and report back to his partners-in-mischief.

Only Lonely was a good kitty-baby. She never hurt or frightened or worried Quirk. She was quite willing to let Quirk hold her, and she would purr and rub her bi-coloured face against Quirk's cheek. But then one of Lonely's siblings would do another Bad Thing and Quirk would be running about, trying to set things right.

The good thing about living in the study with the kitties was that Quirk only had to safeguard one room from them.

The bad thing about living in the study with the kitties was that this was Master's study – and the kitties were beginning to Move Master's Things.

Quirk was willing to grant the kitty-babies and their parents a great deal of leeway – but he was not prepared to abandon the basic precept of his training as Master Professor Severus Snape's house-elf: under no circumstances, at any time, was Quirk to Move Master's Things, nor was he to permit anyone else to do so.

One day, Mistress had noticed when Quirk was a bit more frazzled than usual, and sporting a blister from Flamer's latest burning binge, that Quirk seemed out-of-sorts. She had asked him then, "Quirk? Are you okay? Are the kittens okay?"

Quirk had mustered a smile for his mistress. "Quirk is fine, Mistress. And the kitties is just being kitties." Mistress had explained to Quirk that he must expect the kitties to get into mischief as a natural part of growing up, and he was willing to be brave about it.

As for Master, he never seemed to notice Quirk or the kitties, these days; he seemed to have eyes for no one but Mistress.

So Quirk was going about a usual day of kitty-baby-watching when the wards set on the door into Master's quarters let him know that Someone Was Trying to Get In.

Barrelling into the sitting room, leaving his charges untended, Quirk grabbed the door handle and tugged it open – and a tall red-haired man fell into the room.

It was Lonely who wandered out of the study with her tail held high to investigate the next room and the Stranger she smelled. Quirk sat the Stranger down in a chair and went into the kitchen to fetch a cup of tea. The very small kitten crossed the room behind the chair in which the Stranger was sitting, her little kitten nose a-twitch with Wrongness. Lonely crept beneath the chair in which the Stranger sat and sniffed experimentally at his socks, which only confirmed the kitten's suspicions.

The Stranger was a Bad Man.

Lonely summoned her siblings.

Hermione smiled at Professor McGonagall and offered her a tin of biscuits to go with the tea.

McGonagall looked around the room with approval. "You keep a very neat office, Hermione. It is a sign of a well-ordered mind."

Hermione chuckled. "I share this work space with Severus, Minerva. You would not care to hear what he has to say about messiness in his Potions laboratory."

McGonagall regarded her with some amusement. "I imagine it would be nothing I have not heard from his lips before." She took a sip of her strong, unsweetened tea and tilted her head. "I see he was able to mend his fences with you."

Hermione smiled ruefully. "We had some joint fence-mending to do, actually. He told me what you said to him – thank you, Minerva."

"I have never had a daughter," the regal woman said, "but I would have hoped to have had a daughter much as you are, my dear."

Hermione reached across the desk and lightly touched Minerva's hand. "What a sweet thing to say. Were you never tempted to marry?"

Minerva's eyebrows rose steeply. "What would make you think that? I was rather sought after, in my youth." Her eyes took on a far-away cast. "There was a time, before the beginning of the war with Grindelwald, when I quite thought I would be married."

Hermione sat forward, quite interested. "You could not have been very old then," she commented.

"No, I had just left school, and was at University, reading Transfiguration. My –" she paused for a moment, as if determining upon a term – "special friend was a bit older than I, and doubtful that a marriage between us would work."

"Just like Severus and me!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Well, not dissimilar, certainly," Minerva allowed, sipping again at her tea.

"What happened? Could you not convince him?"

Minerva looked thoughtful. "I really did not feel it was my job to convince him. I felt quite strongly that he must convince himself."

Hermione shook her head. "If I had left it up to Severus, I'm afraid he would still be waffling about it." She cocked her head to one side. "Did he? Convince himself, I mean?"

"I do not know, my dear."

Hermione had opened her lips to inquire further when a loud commotion quite close by brought her to her feet. "That sounds like Quirk!" she said and rushed out of the laboratory with Minerva following closely behind her.

Percy was not at all sure what was happening to him when it first began. It felt as if there were tiny needles piercing the skin of his legs through the fabric of his trousers. He reached down to brush at his legs and bumped into a solid mass – then his hand was being pierced by the needles. He shook the hand, to rid himself of the sensation, only to feel a dense object fly away from him. He jerked his head to look at his hand and was horrified to see long, thin scratches appear on his skin, where droplets of blood began immediately to well up.

"What the hell?" he shouted, quite forgetting his officious dignity.

The house-elf hurried back into the sitting room, splashing hot tea everywhere. "No, no!" the elf cried. "Bad kitty babies! Bad!"

Percy then perceived that his scalp was under attack. He craned his head back and saw a tiny black kitten with long black fur floating over his head. As he looked up, the little devil darted out one front paw and delivered a scratch down his rather long nose.

"Ouch!" the incensed wizard shouted. "Bloody hell!"

Quirk was trying to control his charges, to no avail. He could not see Fader or Blinky, and he could not reach Jumper. Lonely was being a good kitty-baby, sitting over on the sofa beside the daddy-kitty.

Crookshanks was watching the display of supernatural kitten-hood with tail-swishing satisfaction, while his mate sat a safe distance away from the Stranger's feet, voicing her displeasure and distress at the top of her Siamese voice.

Percy thought for a moment that he was having some sort of preternatural nightmare. The needle-jabbing had travelled right up his trouser leg and he was having to use his hands to defend his manhood, while the flying cat continued to scratch his scalp. Then another one of the damn felines, this one a bigger, black cat, sat down in the middle of the floor and began to yowl. The house-elf was trying to climb the chair in which Percy sat, to fetch the flying cat. Percy discovered that there was an orange kitten clinging to the sleeve of his robe and sinking its razor teeth into his arm. He was able to take a swing at the orange kitten – but it was gone! He looked around the room for the damn cat, and saw it sitting on the hearth. How had the little bugger gotten all the way over there? And wait – was this another orange kitten? It was running straight at him, as if to leap into his lap. Well, it would bloody well learn what a bad idea that was when he knocked it silly.

Or so he thought – until the running kitten burst into flames just before landing in his lap.

Hermione erupted into the sitting room with Minerva McGonagall hot on her heels. A scene of utter chaos met their eyes. Quirk was standing on top of Percy Weasley, apparently beating him with a coal shovel. One of the black kittens was levitating over Percy's head, while the other appeared to be clinging to the fabric of Percy's trousers and gnawing on his knee – though it was a bit hard to tell, because the kitten was almost transparent. One of the orange kittens seemed to be Apparating close enough to deliver a scratch or a bite to the embattled Percy, then Apparating away before Percy could retaliate, whilst the other orange kitten sat on the floor by Bast, watching the excitement. The calico kitten was sitting on the couch with Crookshanks, who appeared quite pleased with the proceedings. Percy was covered with scratches and bites and his robes appeared to be smouldering.

Moving quickly, Hermione snatched Quirk from Percy's lap and removed the coal shovel from his hand. "What are you doing?" she demanded.

"Quirk is putting out the fire, Mistress!" the elf wailed. "Oh, Quirk is so sorry the kitties is being kitties all over the red-haired wizard!"

In the next moment, Minerva had cast a Shielding Charm to keep the kittens off of Percy. Muttering darkly to herself, she stalked to the fireplace, snatched a handful of Floo powder from the box on the mantel, and threw it into the fire. "Headmaster Albus Dumbledore's office," she snapped.

The Headmaster's head appeared in the fire. "Yes, Minerva?"

"We need you immediately in the Snapes' quarters," Professor McGonagall informed him shortly.

"Step back, my dear; I'll come now."

Minerva stepped back from the hearth and the Headmaster whirled into place.

"Good afternoon," he said pleasantly, stepping down from the fireplace.

Percy was examining the hurts on his hands and arms with a horrified expression. His attackers, not understanding that the magical barrier Professor McGonagall had erected prevented them from further harrying their prey, continued to hurl themselves against the invisible obstruction.

Thrusting an indignant finger in the direction of the kittens, Minerva said, in a voice pregnant with foreboding, "Albus, what have you done?"

Hermione had now plucked the hovering kitten from the air over Percy's head. The other three, realizing that their assaults were no longer succeeding, abandoned their task and scampered off the join their mother on the rug. Within moments, Bast was sprawled upon the floor, surveying the world through half-closed eyes, while the hungry kittens nursed, for all the world as if nothing untoward had occurred.

Hermione released the struggling Jumper onto the floor, so that the small black kitten could trot off to have her share of the meal being offered. With a murmured, "Finite Incantatem," she removed the shield from about Percy's chair and went to exclaim over his hurts.

Professor Dumbledore stood near the fireplace in dark blue robes spangled with stars and moons, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I really could hardly say what I have done, Minerva." He circled the nursing kittens, then cast a curious glance at Crookshanks, who promptly came up and butted his flat face against the Headmaster's fancifully embroidered robes. "I cannot say I had considered the possibility of this beauty breeding with a Kneazle." As he spoke, he bent to stroke Bast's luxuriant black fur.

Professor McGonagall stood rigidly before the hearth, bristling with righteous anger. "Well you had best find a way to fix it," she told him, in no uncertain terms. Then she turned her back upon the bemused Headmaster and crossed over to Percy. "Come along, Mr. Weasley; you will want to visit with Madam Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing."

"No, I won't!" he answered peevishly.

Professor McGonagall stood quietly, waiting for the former Head Boy to comply with her wishes. Finally, he stood with ill-grace. "Oh, all right," he muttered and obediently began to follow Professor McGonagall from the room.

Hermione heard Minerva say, "Good afternoon, Severus," as she and Percy passed out of the room.

Severus stepped through the doorway into the home he shared with Hermione. His robes were a bit less tidy than usual, and there appeared to be a bit of green goo in his hair. His eyes took in the humiliated house-elf, pacing before the hearth and periodically letting loose a loud sob; the Headmaster, glancing speculatively between the house-elf and the cats on the rug; and his harassed-looking wife.

"You didn't tell me we were entertaining this afternoon," he murmured to her with a sardonic lift of his brow.

Hermione chuckled. "It was a rather spontaneous party, I'm afraid," she said, going over to him. "Did you know you have aloe vera gel in your hair?"

"Certainly," he replied. "Mr. Babcock saw fit to share the contents of his cauldron with twenty-five of his closest friends." His eyes softened as they rested on Hermione's face; he made a motion as if to hold out a hand to her and she immediately took the proffered hand. "Is there a particular reason why Quirk is entertaining us with this conduct?"

Quirk, hearing his name on Master's lips, froze in place and looked miserably at his feet.

Dumbledore turned then from his contemplation of the kittens and spoke. "Your house-elf has had a bit of a bad experience, Severus, and I am very much afraid it is my fault."

"In what way could it possibly be your fault, Headmaster?" Severus asked, his tone reflecting a certain flavour of insolence.

"You have a litter of magical kittens here, Severus, which have undoubtedly been giving the elf a difficult time as they have begun to grow into their powers."

Severus turned to Quirk. "Is this correct, Quirk? The kittens have magical powers?"

Quirk looked up with anguished eyes.

"Why did you not tell us?" Severus demanded, much aggrieved.

"M-mistress said the kitties is just being kitties, Master," Quirk said, his voice barely audible.

Hermione sighed. "He's right, Severus. He told me they were levitating and Apparating and disappearing and bursting into flames and I didn't really believe him."

Severus started at the last power. "Bursting into flames? You must be joking."

"No, I'm quite serious."

"No wonder that Weasley smelled of smoke," he muttered. He turned his fulminating gaze to the Headmaster. "Well? In what way do we have you to thank for this delightful situation, sir?"

Dumbledore looked rather longingly at the sofa, but Severus did not invite him to sit. Instead, he released Hermione's hand and crossed his arms over his chest with an air of belligerence.

"Severus, did you ever wonder where Bast came from?"

Severus' eyes narrowed. "Many times," he answered shortly.

"I found her for you," Dumbledore told him.

"Indeed?" Severus responded icily.

"Yes. To insure that she would be able to stay with you, I ... assisted her with a tendency toward Apparation."

"You mean, to make it impossible for me to rid myself of an unwanted cat, you gave her the ability to plague the life out of me!" Severus snarled.

Bast disengaged herself from her offspring and leapt up onto the high back of the recliner, touching her cold nose to Severus' fingertips, as Dumbledore replied, "At the time, I must confess that it did not occur to me what the consequences might be if she were to breed with another magical creature."

Severus automatically stroked the infinitely soft fur on the head of his familiar, while looking over at Crookshanks in some amazement.

"What so-called magical powers does that imitation throw rug have?"

Dumbledore smiled. "He is part-Kneazle, Severus. And, if I am not mistaken, his ability to detect wrongness in another living being has been inherited by the little calico kitten."

Severus frowned. "All of them – ALL of them are magical?" His head was beginning to ache.

"Yes, they are. For some reason they took a dislike to Mr. Weasley. But we cannot allow them to remain in the castle, with the students – it is too dangerous." Severus opened his mouth to retort, but Dumbledore forestalled him with a raised hand. "If I may suggest it, Severus, your house-elf should take the cats to your home in Wiltshire to look after them there. It would be best, I think, if he were given permission to use magic to control them."

At this, Quirk nodded his head vigorously.

"Will this be acceptable?" Dumbledore asked the Snapes.

Severus was glowering. "Certainly, send the fiends to Enchanté to burn it down – then I will have to live in this blasted castle until my dying day!"

Dumbledore had crossed over to Quirk and was smiling down at him. "Your name is Quirk, is it not?"

Quirk bowed deeply. "I is Quirk, Sir."

"Quirk, in a day or so, I will bring someone to help you with the kittens – someone who has had some experience with unusual magical animals."

Severus snorted. "I will NOT have Hagrid living at my house."

Dumbledore gave Severus a piercing glance from his blue eyes. "Hogwarts could not possibly spare Hagrid. No, this will be someone else. I will bring an assistant for you, Quirk – how will that be?"

Quirk bowed again. "It will be as Master decides, Sir," he said in his squeaky voice.

Dumbledore and Hermione turned questioning eyes on Severus.

Severus sighed dramatically. "Certainly; send any number of people to live in my house and eat my food. It can be of no possible matter to me."

Dumbledore smiled and clapped his hands together. "Excellent! Then Quirk and I will move the cats to Enchanté now, if you have no objection."

The old wizard waited as Quirk organized the adult cats into their baskets, dividing the kittens between them. When all was ready, Dumbledore pulled a sweets tin from his pocket; with a tap of his wand and a murmur of, "Portus," the Portkey was made. At last, Severus and Hermione were alone.

"Why was Percy Weasley in our quarters?" Severus demanded, apropos of nothing.

"I have no clue," Hermione replied, kicking off her shoes and stretching her back. She looked him over with a small smile on her lips. "I sort of like your hair with Slytherin green streaks," she teased, reaching up to gather a bit of green goo and hold it up for him to see.

Severus grasped her wrist. "Come along, Madam Snape; I need your assistance."

Hermione giggled and followed him willingly. "How can I assist you, Professor Snape?" she asked.

"You can wash my back, and I will wash your front," he informed her.

"You're on."

A/N: Kudos to my husband and my daughter, Lauren -- he pointed out that Dumbledore could not Apparate the kittens to Enchanté; she suggested the Portkey and reminded me Dumbledore had used one from his office in OoTP. Good little canon Nazis, my family!