1995-11-07: Pie Defies


Snape_icon.gif Pierrick_icon.gif Claire_icon.gif

Special Guest Star: Shannon Delaney of Ravenclaw

Scene Title Pie Defies - Or Why You Should Never Bring Celine to Detention
Synopsis Snape presides over detention. Pie gets fed up. Explosions commence.
Location Potions Classroom
Date November 07, 1995
Watch For Massive Point Loss
Logger The World Snake

Within the darkened classroom, there are several separate stations tonight. One of them is a rather large pile of cauldrons, most of which are in varying degrees of 'disgusting'. Another station is a massive pile of flobberworms and a small, silver knife. There is also a cauldron near that station, ostensibly for the student to put the sliced flobberworms in. The third station, though, is the strangest. It is actually set up for a student to brew a potion. However, it has a huge scroll of parchment and a very full phial of ink nearby. Snape paces at the front of his classroom, robes swirling as he casts a tempus.

Pierrick, for one, looks absolutely miserable as he makes his way into the dungeons for detention, two minutes early. (Better, by far, to be early than late; but not too early, right?) "Professeur," he murmurs, and pauses midway into the room, to stare — mildly horrified — at the setup. Wait, he'd been serious?

A tiny slip of a girl in Ravenclaw colors steps into the classroom at -exactly- the indicated time. Not a moment sooner or later, please and thank you. Everything from her bearing, to her pinched expression, to the too-tight knot of hair she has in a bun screams 'STUCK UUUUP'. And her name would be Shannon. "Professor." she says stiffly, a pout already appearing on her lips when she glances around the room.

Claire is totally unsurprised about having gotten detention. The only thing she's bummed about is that the other half of the fight doesn't seem to have. She is hiding in her cloak, hood up, posture set in Ultra Sulk mode as she shuffles in. "Hello, Professor Snape," she says in a far politer and more welcoming tone than the others did: not because she's pleased to be here, which she obviously isn't, but because she actually likes Snape. And she saw this coming.

"Mister Remi," Snape drawls, gesturing over to the brewing station. "You will brew the Swelling Solution again — the version you completed during my class this afternoon. However, there will be two major changes. Firstly, you will document legibly — and in English — the steps you have taken, whether they are the steps listed in your potions book or not. Secondly, you will pause at the moment you discover the discrepancy in the two brews, and you will inform me, at which time I shall come oversee the next steps in the process."

He swirls away again, stepping over toward Shannon. "Miss Delaney, your task this evening is simple. I need these flobberworms cut lengthwise into two-inch strips. I have completed a few to show you the precision I need for you to achieve. Should you not achieve said precision, I will melt these down for potion stock, and you will complete the detention again tomorrow night." He gestures to the table, and gazes at her for a few moments.

"Good evening, Miss Sutton, since you seem to so inclined to keep to your non-magical heritage, you may clean these," he gestures toward the stack of cauldrons, leaning in toward her slightly. "Without. Magic." With no more instructions than that, he stalks to the front of the room, taking his seat at the desk. "Begin promptly."

"Oui, m'sieur," Pierrick mutters — politely! But after all, Snape hadn't said anything about him speaking in English, right? And 'oui, monsieur' should be understandable enough to anyone who isn't Siobhan Noble! Much chastened, therefore, he continues his trek across the room, to stare forlornly at the pile of ingredients before him. Did he even use that sort of spoon earlier…?

Shannon's eyes dart immediately over to the disgusting flobberworms - notoriously difficult to cut. Surely the sudden green tinge to her expression is predictable, right? As is her disgusted glance at the one student who apparently doesn't seem to mind being there. Or at least, is being nice about it. "Yes, Professor." Polite but sullen she steps over to the cutting station and leans over to study intently the already-cut worms. And she is sorely tempted to ask for a measuring tape. Just to make sure they are -really- two inches. Because she is totally like that.

Oh. Well. Awesome. Claire's punishment is a totally reasonable and manageable one (she works at Coffee Republic during the holidays, after all, dirty dishes are rather their forte) and she doesn't have to do something as impossible as Pierrick's. Her eyebrow certainly goes up when she hears the intended punishment for whatever it is Pierrick did — Frenchie actually did something right? And, furthermore, Snape wants his documentation of it? Huh? "Yes, sir," is her response, as she goes hunting down sponge and soap. And, perhaps, a wet washcloth for her nose.

Snape falls silent as the students head toward their stations, lowering his head to mark a paper with copious amounts of green ink. He scowls, crossing out an entire paragraph from a student's homework, and writing a huge letter on the top. One may rightly assume that it's not an O or an A. "Is there something amiss, Mister Remi?" He looks up to see that the boy has not begun brewing yet. His eyes narrow. "Perhaps you need a couple of noisemakers to simulate the sound you and your classmates sully my classroom with?" He flicks his wand, and there is a soft chattering noise in the air. It sounds more like birds or tree rodents, but if one listens long enough to the sound, it becomes indistinguishable from the noise whispering makes in a quiet room.

He glances over at Shannon. "Do you require a measuring device?" Another flick of his wand, and a small tape measure floats gently over to her desk, unrolling to the precise point. "The flobberworms will not cut themselves, Miss Delaney." Claire is the only student he doesn't chide. It's not because she's a Slytherin, but because she's actually getting to the work. He lowers his head again to scribble on another parchment.

Pierrick looks surprisingly pleased — and surprised, and grateful, actually — once Snape's magic has set the chittering to work. It's almost as if the professor actually wants him to succeed! How odd! If he stops thinking about it as detention, and pretends he's still in class and Snape is all the way on the other side of the room, with his attention directed elsewhere — as, in fact, he is and it is — it's a little bit easier to settle in to work. He wonders if, maybe, having the book be written in English (and archaic English, at that) is what led to his accidental little discovery in the first place. He wonders, as he keeps chopping and measuring things with more flair than attention to the recipe, if he even made Swelling Solution earlier. Maybe it was some other potion entirely!

"Yes, thank you Professor." And when the measure floats over, just to be a snot nosed brat, Shannon really does measure the ones Snape cut first. Before moving on to start cutting at her own disturbingly large pile. What may be her only saving grace is her exactitude. She loathes being being anything less then perfectly precise, as evidenced by the way her face srunches up as she's cutting. "That noise is incredibly irritating." she mutters under her breath, glaring up and over at Pierrick as he thoroughly enjoys the distraction. And Claire… well, the young Ravenclaw just eyeballs the girl as if she's lost her marbles.

Not only does Claire know exactly where all her marbles are, but she's quite adept at using them. Or, in this case, she's just very good at cleaning cauldrons. With a sponge. Slowly. Between filling them with hot water and dumping it out again and sloshing soap around, she's managed to burn her hand more than once, though. Which leads to some distasted hand-waving about to get it to cool off, and possibly a little bit of quiet swearing.

Snape's eyes narrow again as he looks up toward Pierrick. The change in his demeanor is annoying, but he remains silent as he watches the boy work. Trained eyes notice minor changes and he calls them out as he sees them. "You placed four pufferfish eyes in your solution, instead of five, Mister Remi. If that is how you brewed during the class, please note it on your parchment." He sighs at Delaney's behavior. "Miss Delaney, your exactitude is appreciated." He stands, moving toward her, looming over her shoulder. "However," he hisses, "the speed at which you are currently moving will require all of us to be here until the Christmas holidays." And he sounds like he may keep them there that long.

"Miss Sutton!" Now, he's barking at her. "Do not place your hands in the water when it is above boiling. I do not want to have to take you up to the hospital wing to apply burn salve for something you could have easily prevented!" He strides nearly noiselessly over toward the girl, looking down at her hands. Determining them to be mostly unharmed, he strides away again, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"But, Professor." Shannon protests, determined to argue today. "You did say that if I did not do this precisely right, that I would have to be here again tomorrow for the same punishment. And I would much prefer to be doing my homework tomorrow evening. So I must ensure I am doing this correctly." The last words end on a note of immature exasperation of course. Give her a few years, She's just a wee one right now. So as she slices marginally faster, they may only have to be there at this rate until the end of November.

Pierrick is keeping track of his work, so far! That, at least, is a major change from that afternoon — but he's maybe given up on the idea of keeping track in English, judging by the number of accent marks that are showing up on the parchment, if Snape happens to stalk over to read it. He's also … singing? He seems to be singing. He seems, in fact, to be singing very softly, under his breath, the #1 Top Hit Song of French pop music for the summer. "J'irai chercher ton coeur si tu l'emportes ailleurs, Meme si dans tes danses d'autres dansent tes heures," is certainly soft, under the constant-whisper hum of Snape's earlier spell — really, nobody's going to notice it but his potion, right?

Too bad, Pierrick: Claire can hear you. Enough to be annoyed. Her hands, however, have at least begun to feel better, and the water has cooled off — that doesn't stop her from speaking up amidst the scrubbing. "Hey. Remi. Shut up."

"Ten points from Ravenclaw for your cheek, Miss Delaney." Snape whispers, expression hardening. He does step away, though, moving over to watch Pierrick brew. Just in time for him to catch him beginning to sing. "Mister Remi, I believe I asked you to document your work in English." He has a rudimentary understanding of French from reading enough potions recipes in the language, but the students must get used to doing their work in their new language. He grabs a book from the desk as he walks past, and whacks the back of Pierrick's head with it. "Do not sing in my classroom, Mister Remi." Claire gets a Look. This one says, 'Not the teacher' or something like it. "Miss Sutton, do you need more cauldrons?" There are definitely more, if she's lacking in things to keep her attention.

Pierrick bites his tongue when he gets hit with a book, right in the middle of attempting to explain himself — and so he's left to bleed in his mouth, quietly, until he can find a handkerchief. He absolutely didn't bleed in his potion earlier, that much is certain! If he's cursing in French under his breath, well, it's probably very educational for anyone who notices. "I was singing earlier!" he retorts. "You said you wanted it done just as before, m'sieur, I was trying! And if you are wanting documentation accurate I would ask you let me be, I will translate it for you before I turn it in!" SO THERE.

"It was just hard to focus on what I was doing with the — noise," Claire manages, doing her best not to narrow her eyes at Pierrick. Of all the languages in the world, it had to be the one that she finds incredibly grating. And he's still speaking in it! Even if it's just swearing. "Sorry, sir." Scrub scrub.

Shannon doesn't quite appear upset for getting points deducted. But, she does grimace and bend over her work again. Dutifully chopping poor little flubberworms into two inch lengthwise pieces of worm as indicated. Also, her lips twitch with amusement when Pierrick is hit in the back of the head. And then again when the frenchman is insulted. Maybe this isn't so bad. Really.

"Do not sing that song in my classroom, Mister Remi," Severus Snape thunders loudly. Perhaps it isn't the singing itself that is bothering him. He scowls down at the paper in French. "I expressly told you to scribe your work in English." His eyes narrow. "That will be ten points from you as well." He returns to his desk, sitting down and immersing himself in his marking for several minutes, completely ignoring the witches in the room.

White-faced — white-lipped — Pierrick stands there, scowling at Snape, before very neatly and very loudly tearing his parchment into quarters and dumping his cauldron out at the appropriate sink. Without a word, spoken or sung.

Claire stares. Just stares. And then mutters, "Goodbye, Pierrick, it was nice knowing you I guess," under her breath before returning all of her attention to the cauldrons. Nice dirty cauldrons. Not singing in French or stirring anything up. Or being more stubborn than her, and normally Snape puts up with her stubbornness! (Normally it doesn't involve him, either.)

Shannon allows what is suspiciously like the beginnings of a snicker break free at Pierrick's reactions. But she turns it into a cough at the last minute, one that winds up muffled against her sleeve too. "Well, it's obvious what Pierrick did to be here. What did you do?" she asks of Claire. She can't help it, figuring Snape will be too busy beating the snot out of the french guy to worry about her.

"Mister. Remi." Severus Snape begins, his eyes alight with rage. "Perhaps, in your previous institution of matriculation, you were allowed certain liberties because of your social standing, and the unfortunate consequences of your birth into a specific family. However, here in our fine center of learning," He pauses, stalking to where the young man is washing out his cauldron. "You. Do. Not. Receive. Such. Treatment." He draws back from hissing in the student's ear, then moves to his desk, pulling out a special colored parchment. "You will receive a deduction of fifty points from your house, and you will complete the assignment as directed. Any further complaint or negative action in response to my directives will receive another full fifty point deduction, as well as a trip to speak to your Head of House regarding your place in this institution. Be warned that though she may coddle her young lions far too much, your Head has a limit of behavior which she may tolerate. This incident has surpassed it and moved beyond it by several miles." He scribbles out something on the parchment, the words sealing magically and adding a small rune to the bottom that looks like a snake made from two capital Ss.

As occupied as he is with the little rebel, he still has a stream or two of attention to dedicate to the other students. "It is not your concern, Delaney. However, Miss Sutton decided that the better part of valor was not indeed discretion, as many intelligent and esteemed individuals have learned, but the application of fists to the face of another student." It's the trickle-down effect. Pierrick's angered him, so the rest of the students will feel the brunt of his wrath.

Pierrick, too, is full of rage — and so maybe, at some point in the far-off and distant future in which Snape can admire any Gryffindors at all, he will be impressed that Pierrick isn't raging at the top of his lungs, but rather is trying, with moderate success, to keep his temper in rein. "Monsieur," he half-spits, "I do not choose to attend this school that you abuse me, that you strike me, and all for what? That you may deduct points? Do I care for points, when you are determined to see my failure? No! And why should I be? You ask of me, you ask that I do what I did before, then when I do, you strike me and forbid me to do it! I do not care to waste my time, your time, your precious resources that my potion comes to failure and you mock me again! I had heard so many wonderful things about the Potions professor here, at Hogwarts, and I think it is a lie! You are not a good teacher, m'sieur, if this is your fashion!" A terribly bold accusation indeed, from the young lion, whose eyes are flashing their ire now. "And if you are thinking it is my family that gives me leave at the school, m'sieur — my family which gained me my scores in last year's exams — you are both insulting and mistaken!"

"I gave Draco Malfoy a bloody nose," Claire whispers over to Shannon, continuing to scrub and acting as if none of what is going on around her is even remotely remarkable.

Wide-eyes greet Snape's reaction to Pierrick. And, even for his sake, Shannon will pale a few shades. I mean, to go from Snape to McG… that can't be fun. And he looks like he's well on the way that end result. "Nicely done, then." Shannon whispers back, from the corner of her mouth. After she nods all innocent-like at the Professor and then goes back to chopping -exactly- two inches of flubberworm at a time.

"Perhaps you do not care for points. But I will guarantee your fellows will be more concerned with the state of things when they discover that one young cub has cost their hourglass one hundred of its precious rubies. In this institution, Mister Remi, those stones are coin. And you, insolent, defiant young man, have most probably cost your house the cup." He adds a few more lines to the paper. "Miss Delaney, Miss Sutton, keep your attentions to your own work. Miss Sutton, if you complete your own task, you may assist Miss Delaney in hers." He flicks his wand and another sheathed knife comes flying through the air, landing neatly on the desk beside the pile of 'worms. "Mister Remi, we shall now go speak with your Head of House." If he doesn't come, he may well grab his ear. "Come along." He pauses in his movements, muttering something in Latin under his breath. "The Professor is currently out of the castle." He'd forgotten that. He glances around, noticing the large pile of cauldrons. "Sutton. Help Delaney. Silently." He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Remi, you will remain here for the duration of the detention, taking over Sutton's task."

Silently! Claire can do silently — she, in fact, takes silently very seriously as she creeps over to the flobberworm cutting. Too bad this job is nowhere near as soothing and familiar as the old task of washing dishes.

There is a bright side to all of this. With Pierrick inciting Snape to further heights of rage, it seems that Shannon and Claire are going to get away lightly. And the young Ravenclaw, for one, is not going to look this gift french-horse in the mouth. "Yessir." she squeaks, chopping away. As if there's noooooothing going on.

Scrubbing nasty cauldrons is probably a far lighter punishment than Pierrick really deserves for the level of rage he's just directed at Snape, so — all things considered — it's nearly miraculous how meekly his temper burns out. He's still pissed off, yes. He still feels, moreover, betrayed — this man was supposed to be a good teacher, not a lying, conniving, abusive bastard. What he'll do is write up his own version of events and hand that to Professor McGonagall — at least that way he'll have a chance that she'll know the whole story before she skins him alive, right? He'll just also be discreetly intelligent enough to do that when he isn't in the Potions classroom. Scrub scrub scrub. At least he isn't vain about his hands during the school year.

"I have been appalled by the standards I have seen from the incoming students this term." Snape begins, nearly conversationally, though there are overtones of something much darker. He directs his comments to the girls slicing. "Those who have some potential are proven to be less than adequate protegees due to their attitudes and habits. I am left to muse on whether it is merely their nationality or their former institution that is to blame for this. I am more likely to believe the latter, since our own D'Allemange has no issue with following my orders correctly and to the point." It may be unfair, but this is Severus Snape.

Any additional notes fall to the bottom.

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