1995-06-23: Through the Looking Glass...No, Really


Siobhan_icon.gif Alistaire_icon.gif Snape_icon.gif Whitmore_icon.gif

Scene Title Through the Looking Glass…No, Really
Synopsis Sio thought Alumni Weekend would bring nothing but trouble. Guess she should have listened to her own head.
Location Hogwarts
Date June 23, 1995
Watch For Swearing and crazies and…puppies. Oh my?
Logger Snaples/Sio

Alumni Weekend.

It's a good idea in theory. Even in practice - during more peaceful times - it doesn't sound too bad. Unfortunately, in times like these, it sounds like a really, really stupid plan. At least, that's how Siobhan sees it. It's why she's standing out in the early summer's drizzle looking as if she swallowed something foul. Nevermind that it's an excuse to see Alistaire - for whom she is waiting - before school's out. If it weren't for that, she'd be up patrolling the corridors like a cat before a thunderstorm. Even now, she's got her right hand wrapped tightly around her tiny wand. Almost all of wizarding Britain went to school here; isn't this just asking for something to go wrong?

Unfortunately, no one asked the Aurors if this was a stupid idea or not. One particular Auror, Alistaire Phoenix by name, Apparates to the limits of Hogwarts' defenses against such things, a spot he's learned to pick out after years of testing to figure out where the boundary is and whether it changes or not. The Auror in question has something of a sour expression on his face, his left eyebrow furrowed as he then stalks toward the school's grounds, heedless of the drizzle. His wand isn't yet in hand, but he's always been a quick draw. If not for the fact his lady was awaiting him, he'd say sod this for a game of soldiers.

Whitmore is himself today. At least at this point. No one minds an Unspeakable wandering the halls again, chatting with the door knocker for the Ravenclaw Common Room, frequenting those places he knew long ago. He's walking around with a half-smile on his face, remembering those less complicated days.

The former Potions Master, Severus Snape, has a hundred reasons to avoid Hogwarts - a thousand, even. But all he needs to come rushing back is one. What reason is that? There is no telling. Dressed, as is usual, in black he moves swiftly through one of the Castle's secret passages. He knows them well and that is what allows him to pass into what should otherwise be one of the most secure buildings in the United Kingdom.

In a dim and cobwebbed corridor, an ancient statue politely steps to one side and allows the spiderlike figure of Snape to step past. He turns, lifting a finger to 'shh' the stone creature before he sweeps off down the hall.

Eyes squinted into the late-afternoon's gloom, Siobhan catches sight of Ali while he's still a good ways away. A bit of mischief crosses her expression and she steps back a pace, then another. The main doors are left slightly ajar to accomodate the day's foot traffic, and she uses that to her advantage. Inside, she leans against the back of the closed door and watches, ready to spring her soggy-huggy trap as soon as her target comes in out of the rain.

Alistaire might be watching out for Siobhan, and he's watching out for Trouble, but he's not really watching out for Siobhan Causing Trouble, so as he passes near the doors, he glances over his shoulder just in time for her to get him but good, and because he's got a flying Siobhan monster trying to pounce-hug him, his wand hand is unfortunately not able to reach into his inner pocket for said wand, and he says something extremely rude in a very loud tone of voice. "What're you playing at?" he demands with a scowl once he realizes who it is and what she's up to. However, to soften the verbal blow, he swings his lady friend around and hugs her sickeningly tightly before putting her back down and continuing to look around with an almost Moody-like paranoia about him.

Oh, well. Time for reminiscences has passed. Whitmore sighs, ducking into a quiet room to change his appearance with the spells and charms he's learned in the Department of Mysteries. No sense getting caught for who he is with this situation. Not when the alterations only take a few moments. While the couple are spending their time reconnecting, he whistles, walking past them back out into the drizzle. He's got a present for the school, and he's gone to go get it.

Snape continues to move down the corridor, the slightest of touches causing a heavy, ironbound door to swing open for him. Emerging into the more well-travelled parts of the school, he practically swoops towards his destination.

"S'just a hug, Ali." Siobhan's protest dies into a giggle, however, when she is swept up off her feet and swung around in a circle. "Yes. That is what we call a Proper Hug." She's a bit breathless, but still grinning. At least, that is, until the whistle catches her attention. Something about the stature of that dark-shrouded figure makes the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Unconsciously she steps a little bit into Alistaire, then tilts her head to one side and starts to…to follow him. No, not Ali; the other one. She keeps her pace to a casual amble, catching the Auror's hand in hers to bring him along as well. "So, how's work been?" She sounds all right, but something about her posture is a little stiffer than it had been, her eyes a little warier.

Alistaire isn't stupid, but as soon as he heard the whistle, he was already turning in the correct direction. If anything, Siobhan's 'casual' ambling after Whitmore is one he would have started himself if she hadn't begun first, because his own suspicions are aroused simply /because/. So, having Siobhan already leading the way in the correct direction to investigate causes the Auror to grin with delight, even as he's baffled by his hand taken, then realizes, DUH, that's why. "Oh, the same old thing. False leads on certain bad guys' locations, craziness going on here we can't do anything about, explosions abounding. Really boring at the moment, which means anything severely serious could happen at any moment."

Whitmore isn't gone long, and when he does return, he's got someone slung over his shoulders. A young girl, by the looks of it. "Excuse me. Gonna take her up to the Hospital Wing…" He gives Siobhan a specifically bright grin. He walks back toward the castle to carry her up the Grand Staircase. Only he doesn't go to the infirmary. He heads off another direction.

He spots the young Potions Master and gives him a grin. "Do you have a suggestion as to placement?" The voice is low, but might carry. This voice is high and annoying. Were it his own, it would carry less so.

As Whitmore spots him, Snape quickly retracts his hand from the wall and turns about. His features are grim, shadows catching in the deep lines that give him an appearance older than his actual years. He shakes his head at the question, waving a dismissive hand.

"An interesting choice of words," he says with a slight curl of his lip, "Hurry it up. You may not have allowed for the time we will require to escape here but I have."

That voice… That, that unmistakable tone and cadence. As the man turns and heads up the stairs, Siobhan stops dead. Absolutely dead. All color seems to have fled from her skin and for a moment, her jaw moves soundlessly up and down, as if someone had let all the tension out of a springed hinge.

It's him.

Only that thought has to hit her mind before everything snaps into action at once. "You rat bastard!" she cries. "What d'you think you're doing?" Wand out and held tightly, she's racing up the stairs after him, barreling down the wrong hallway for only a few steps before that annoying voice causes her to stop, spin and start again in a manner that would be comedic under other circumstances. "You vicious, cold-hearted beast!" she all but screams, hurling a Reducto in his direction. "Give her back!" Whoever her is, they're bound to be in trouble. This is, after all, the very same man who left her under Crucio for over two minutes.

She hasn't seen Snape there yet.

Alistaire's hand is suddenly freed as Siobhan goes completely mental, but then he hears the voice as well, and he knows his lady wouldn't go mental for no reason, so he barrels on after her, wand also in hand. When she yells out a spell and very rude words, he simply uses one word: "STUPEFY!" It's probably good he hasn't seen Snape yet either… although there are such things as errant spells…

Whitmore drops his burden, as she's beyond need anyway, and turns to face his attackers. The young face is covered in oddly shaped, green pustules, and her appearance is very like a young ghost of Siobhan's acquaintance. Cousins or something. "I did save time for such things, however, plans are always altered by…" Damn. A spell comes flying past, and he ducks. "You." He gives her a feral smile, and draws his wand out of his pocket smoothly. "Shall I repeat our last encounter, bitch?" He casts up a wordless shield to protect him from any hexes thrown his way. "Ahhh. And I see you've brought a lapdog."

"Quickly now," Snape demands, the urgency now in his voice as he turns quickly. His back pressed against the stone wall to avoid the flying spells, he retrieves his wand and chides his fellow Death Eater.

"You simply cannot resist, can you? Take care of them now."

He won't be alone in the fight, however, for Snape wheels around the corner and lifts his wand. There is a hint of recognition, yes, but no hesitation as he flings a wordless spell at the pair designed to knock them from their feet.

"Retreat to the Armour Gallery," Snape commands, barely audible under the sudden din of Ouch Magic, "There is a way out there."

"Only if you fancy spendin' the rest of your feckin' life in Azkaban!" Only when Snape whirls around the corner and casts, she's taken off-guard enough that the spell makes a direct hit. Flung back against the wall with an audible grunt, Sio blinks back tears of pain and gasps for breath. The fact that there's a body staring at her with unseeing eyes that sit in an all-too familiar face really doesn't help matters either. Consequently, when she follows, she's more stumbling than running; at least for the first set of steps. As she moves, she can feel her shoulder twinging, the Tournament injury that just never quite set right. One good bang against stone apparently doesn't sit well with it.

The…Armour Gallery? Funny place for the pair to run to, but Siobhan's not going to question a pair of madmen. "What did you do to her?" she demands harshly while still advancing. She's gone down into almost tunnel vision, now. Nothing exists except for her two targets. "Incarcerous!" cast twice in raspy tones laden with hatred, anger and betrayal. "Stupefy!"

Alistaire leaps high, hurdling Snape's spell with gangly legs, lucky he didn't get nailed. Thus, the two errant wizards still have an enraged… but not foolhardy… Auror on their tails. The body can wait for later. "Stupefy!" he calls, aiming at Snape out of habit. It's not that he was in the same dorm as the Marauders, no. It's mostly because Snape's betrayal was a knife in his lady's side. And he cheerfully ignores the snipe at him. He knows what he is to Siobhan, and these cretins don't need to know.

No. No, Whitmore can't resist. The spells aimed at him bounce harmlessly off his shield. He gives Siobhan a feral grin, totally ignoring the Auror for now. This has become personal. Perhaps he knows her family, or perhaps he just hates to leave a job undone. "Oh… I know the perfect thing for you, dear…" He twirls his wand in a looped pattern, and shrieks, "Decipio en tabula proxima!" 'I trap you into the nearest painting.' Or something like that.

Having completed the curse, a pale green light seems to shoot from his wand in a widely angled beam, taking in Siobhan's fallen form. The curse? "The Portrait Curse." He laughs that high-pitched, evil laugh, and watches the effect happen. "The grammar in that tome was horrendus, but it seems to still work, eh?" He's nigh hysterical. He turns to follow Snape out, still completely ignoring Alistaire.

"I wouldn't know," comes Snape's reply, although he's not focusing on Whitmore at this point - no, he wouldn't treat this as one big, laughable game. This is serious. Very serious.

"Make sure you've cast it well," he adds, "It would be unfortunate to have to report a failure on top of the other inadequacies when I next speak with the Dark Lord."

As Snape beats a retreat, he raises his wand to conjure a shield of his own - narrowly evading the Auror's spells.

Before Siobhan can even inhale a breath to retort, a wide-angled beam knocks the air clean out of her. Again. Only this time, it doesn't seem to hurt so much. It didn't hurt at all. And she can't breathe, but… Somehow that's okay. Blinking swiftly, she tries to make sense of the world around her, but it's all gone wonky somehow. Not in a way that would be easy to specify, but something definite. And then, she's not even there at all, blinking instead at a starry expanse of sky moments before being bowled over yet again.

To those watching, it would have been an odd sight indeed. That green light encompassed Siobhan like an eerily large phagocyte, shading her into greenscale and removing her third dimension. Once she appears no more substantial than a bit of art, she simply disappears. POP! Gone. No longer there. Vanished.

It takes a few moments for Alistaire to realize that Siobhan isn't right behind him, and he pounds to a halt, staring at the monstrous germ-like thing that transforms her into… nothing. And then his gaze swivels around to look at the two men, and there is something distinctly Terrible about that gaze, as if no power on this earth is about to save them from his wrath. His anger at Snape is set aside for moments, so he can deal with Whitmore, the one who actually did the deed. "STUPEFY!" he bellows, spittle practically launching itself into orbit as he screams the spell, muscles in his neck like cords, his blazing with fierceness.

And doesn't that gaze telegraph volumes. Whitmore glances toward the painting nearby, just long enough to see the young woman there before turning toward the angry Auror. "Oh, my. You're an angry one." His laughter has become higher and more frenzied. "Right then." He leans to the side, narrowly avoiding the stunning spell as he leaves both the body and the painting behind to get away. If he can't get to the gallery, he can always get out the way he came in: with his own face and voice, casually strolling through the halls of his Alma Mater.

"Recite the passphrase we discussed," Snape demands of Whitmore, wand still drawn as he attempts to refocus Alistaire's rage on him, "Get moving now!"

The pecking order may not be perfectly obvious with Snape, but everything about his tone suggests he is done toying around with his fellow Death Eater. He scowls at the Auror, putting himself between the pair for the moment and brining his wand down in a twisting arch through the air. From it erupts a hissing snake, a large and dangerous-looking constrictor which slithers towards his foe.

"Oof!" Thankfully, it appears Sio'd been sitting, so when she's knocked over by what seems to be a very enthusiastic canine, there isn't far to go. Pressed back into what feels like very soft earth, she feels the rasp of a tongue against her cheeks and - giggling with a bit of mild hysteria - pushes the mass of soft fur off her chest. "Oi now, where am I?" The dog doesn't seem inclined to answer in anything beyond a short 'yip' and a 'woof'. As helpful as that may be for Lassie's owners, Siobhan is at a bit of a loss. It's dark outside, so aside from knowing that there's a gorgeous sky overhead, she can't tell much else. Except… There's a shaft of light across the ground coming from her right. Pushing to her feet, she staggers off in that direction, trips over a stone and finds what looks to be the beginnings of a wall. Hanging on that wall - or it looks like it is, anyway - is a fair-sized frame showing the hall she'd just come from; complete with Angry Auror and Snappish Snape. "Oi!" she calls, pounding her fists against a very solid image. "Oi! I'm up here!" Up, because the view through that…painting, shows her to be at least ten feet off the ground. Probably hanging in that row of paintings everyone wants to forget exist. "Ali! Alistaire!" Pounding palms now, she turns her fear-born ire against Snape. "What 'ave you lot done to me? Where am I? Look at me!"

Alistaire frowns as it seems that Snape is the one in charge, his mind calculating ways and means and then that blasted Slytherin conjures a huge snake. His counter-spell is as silent as it's deadly, intending on blasting the constrictor right back at its creator. Dimly, he can hear the familiar cries of his lady in danger, but she's safer now where she is than in the thick of this, despite her considerable skill. "Traitors and cowards," he mutters scornfully, not very loud, but loud enough to be heard. And then his next spell is one of hilarity more than anything else… an invisible hand trying to yank a certain carpet out from under Whitmore's feet.

In his own skin, Whitmore is quite dextrous. However, when he's spelled himself to be a little bigger or smaller, that changes. He wobbles as the carpet underneath him moves, and jumps just enough to avoid falling on his arse. He does catch his hand against the wall. His wand hand. A sickening crack is heard as his weight presses just the wrong way against his wrist. "Damn you!" He wants to hex this Auror so badly. His pain-fogged brain finally catches what his fellow Death Eater is saying. "Elements of this situation can be rectified." What? It's the passphrase. An odd one, but it's something that can always apply. Something always goes wrong. He winces as he moves, cradling his arm to his chest, then pocketing his wand with his non-dominant hand. "Bloody Hell, Snape. Get us out of here." Yes, now he's needing help.

Snape's features immediately become a stony, vicious mask of fury almost verging on the absurd. Murmured though the Auror's words may be, that does not keep them from the Potion Master's ears and he reacts with perhaps undue rage. For someone usually so calm and composed, Snape seems to fly well off the handle all of a sudden.


A vicious flash of light arcs towards the Auror as Snape cuts his wand through the air like a knife. Even as he marches bodily towards his enemy, he seems to have the presence of mind to charm the carpet with a hasty spell over his shoulder. Attempting to bundle Whitmore away towards the Armour Gallery. He'll get them out of there in his own time.

He's tall, but he's also very good with ducking, although Snape's spell does manage to trim the top of his hair. If he were a girl and vain, he'd suddenly be all over Snape like fur on a cat, biting and hissing for that diminishing of his coiffure. However, he's not a girl, although he does frown some more at the bits of hair that sprinkle down onto his freckled nose. While he's in the middle of full-on wrath mode, he's trying to play this cannily. His next spell is one born of the need to vent his anger and throw his attacker off. "EXPELLIARMUS!" He grimly notes Whitmore's injury, but doesn't smile, he's still got Snape to deal with.

Snape's repsonse has a dual effect on the Ravenclaw man. Whitmore cackles for a moment until his laughter jars the hand against his chest. He swears loudly and colorfully, completely unconcerned that he's using words that the students in this school don't really need to hear. "Come on! Leave him alone!" He strides toward the gallery, moves quick yet steady in the attempt to keep the arm immoble.


By some bizarre twist of fate, Snape calls out the Cruciatus Curse at the same moment Alistaire attempts to disarm him. As the two flashes of light meet in air, the aftershocks ripple backwards along the lines of the ether - flinging Snape backwards into one of the armoured displays with a loud clatter.

Injured judging by the torn clothing about his midsection and the blood that is dripping onto the cobbles, he is still made of sterner stuff than this. Rising to his feet, he turns his wand over his head in a wide circle. The suits of armour spring to life, clanking and clattering in the direction of Alistaire to cover the escape of the two Death Eaters.

Alistaire's Disarming Spell would have been sufficient to the cause if Snape hadn't been so eager to break the law and be an evil git, so the rebound makes the Auror go tumbling in the opposite direction from his assailant and new member of Alistaire's rogue's gallery of villains he really wants to see strung up by their intestines. Alistaire's got a cut on his cheek and his coat's got a few tears in it, but his ire is definitely up, as he shouts, "Confringo!" repeatedly to blast each suit of armor out of his way as he inexorably trails the two Death Eaters. "I may not get you right now, Snape, CONFRINGO!" he adds to nail another suit of armor, "but you two are going down at some point. That is not a threat or a promise. That is a FACT."

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