2,304Chapter 72: Detention Calling Attention
Sans was expecting lunch today to be even more of a hassle than usual, given that the events of the previous night had no-doubt spread and he was fairly recognizable. Alright, very recognizable, what with the white hair and all. Nothing to be done about that, at this point.
So he was kind of expecting to be either mobbed (by the curious, full of questions) or ostracized (by the sticklers, angry about broken rules). He was probably right, too, since the closer they got to the Great Hall—and, more importantly, the crowds of students lurking inside—the more fidgety Stewart became.
"Uh, before we get there, I should tell you," he began, awkward and reluctant: the bearer of bad news. "I don't really know what happened, but we lost a lot of house points overnight and apparently the upperclassmen blame you for it so—" He paused, likely noticing that Sans literally took that in stride. "And you're not worried? You're not."
Sans shrugged. "i lost points, yeah. if they wanna make a point about it, well, i don't really see the point."
"But that's…"
"pointless."
Stewart blinked at him, then seemed to almost physically set his opinions (o-pun-nions) aside. "Anyway, a lot of people aren't happy about the point drop. Er, well, a lot of the Ravenclaws at least."
Given how competitive some of the students at this school can get, the other Houses were probably indulging in a little schadenfreude.
"eh, ya win some, ya lose some."
"Still, it's weird. From what I've heard, people are either angry… or, kind of, distracted? Whatever you did that lost so many points, something else that happened has a lot of people asking questions."
And that look was just asking for some answers. "snuck in, got caught, professor prophesied at me, got sent to the office."
Baffled, Stewart just echoed a confused, "'Prophesied'?"
"apparently."
"Who was it? I've heard that the divinations professor is a hack." Trying to reconcile rumors with reality, he had to check, "Was it really her?"
"presumably?" Sans started down the next staircase—they were being oddly cooperative, perhaps because they didn't see him often. "it's not like she's one of my teachers, but she's… uh, recognizable."
"She looks right mad most of the time."
Sans reminded himself that 'mad' could also mean something like 'crazy', and nodded in agreement.
They were getting quite close to the Great Hall, now able to hear the murmur of students' voices carrying even through the large doors and around a corner. A natural side effect of stone corridors with very little sound dampening, Sans distractedly mused. He judged that the crowd noise was about as audible as it would be when classes were in session, which meant there must be quite a lot of chatter—approximately three-sevenths of the student population were away for winter break, after all.
"considering i may be persona non grata—"
"…What?"
"shall we go in separately?"
Sans made the choice for him, abruptly speeding up to reach the door sooner and pushing it open before he could change his mind and skip the meal entirely.
There was definitely a focus that sharpened in on him, even when he was just standing in the doorway. He debated for a moment if it'd be funny enough to justify simply turning around and leaving again. At least if he ran from his problems they wouldn't be able to stare at him as easily.
But no, they'd just catch up to him later after probably festering into a huge mess.
Not to mention the fact that Luna was already waving him over, which meant that Laura and Neville definitely knew he was here, and Cassius had been side-eyeing him the whole time from his seat at the green table. All of them would be annoyed if he just left, though perhaps for different reasons.
Sans sighed, but joined his multi-colored group at the blue table. A bit later he spotted Stewart entering the room, unnoticed, and joining his own friends farther down.
"You skipped breakfast again, Sans."
Kind of, but also not really. He skipped a breakfast, at least.
Taking a page from Sirius's book, Sans just gave Laura's accusatory stare a complacent shrug. "from where i'm sitting," and so he sat, to emphasize the point, "this is breakfast. i only just got out of bed."
As he collected the portion of food foisted upon him by his friends, he listened to their discussions of presents (and thank-yous) with half a non-existent ear. Only half, of course, because he had to keep a non-existent eye on the slowly gathering students—not too close, yet, but definitely getting closer. He was a stationary target, at the moment, and the swarm was gathering for a feast. If they kept it up, they would end up draining away all of the pumpkin juice from this part of the table.
"—so I was just wondering, really."
Sans blinked and refocused, belatedly noticing that the conversation had turned more fully over to him. "hmm? sorry, neville. i was busy staring at nothing and missed that."
"Do you like flowers?" said Luna, presumably repeating whatever question Neville had just posed.
Or not—flushed pink, he hissed, "That wasn't very subtle!"
Alright, so apparently she'd just asked that out of the blue. Sans looked between them, then to Laura for any clarification. She just shook her head.
"…flowers and i have a history. but most seem alright."
"Oh, good," Luna said, and promptly took out—
"is that a flower crown?"
Yes, obviously, and she put it on his head in short order. She didn't seem to mind that she couldn't actually feel his not-real hair, though it had believable animations through the brief interaction and she flicked at it for fun. He reached up a hand to poke one of the blooms he could see, a not-natural mix of blue and yellow on its petals, as Laura hid a snorting laugh behind one hand.
"we're in the middle of winter, where'd you get flowers?"
Neville raised a hand, like he expected he'd need to be called on to answer. "I wasn't sure what to get you for Christmas, but Luna asked for some of these flowers I was growing because they, uh, reminded her of you?"
That last part was directed more at the girl in question, who just smiled. She looked over the flower crown for another moment—at a slightly different distance now, leaning back in her seat—then held up her hands as if framing them. As if considering something only she could see.
"They would look more like you if the colors swirled together better," Luna remarked, though she didn't seem overly bothered. "Like petal opals," she hummed. "Op-pet-als?"
Sans almost didn't see the connection, at least not to the color yellow. Blue was fairly obvious: his favorite coat was blue, his school team was blue, his magic…
He twitched, then, one hand making an aborted gesture toward his sternum—where his SOUL, with its oddly opalescent colors, rested in his ribcage. Blue and gold, blue and yellow all mixed in silver-grey.
"…you really do look at things from a different angle," he murmured.
"Thanks!"
Neville scratched at the back of his head. "Anyway, uh, I thought the flowers themselves might make a good gift—I mean, the actual plants. But I know not everybody wants to take care of a plant, or knows how, so…"
"that's thoughtful, nev." And it really was, although: "i don't know if the guy who barely remembers to feed himself is fit to look after another living thing."
"And Paddy?"
"paddy can take care of himself."
With a chuckle, some of his embarrassed nerves about his gift idea having abated, Neville offered, "I can charm the pot to light up when it needs to be watered. Then it'd just need a spot with good sunlight, basically."
But before Sans could reply, it would seem that the gathering students had reached a breaking point; perhaps the pumpkin juice really did finally run out. Either way, at least one student couldn't take it anymore and—
"What happened last night?"
—the rain of questions began.
"What were you even doing there?"
"How'd you sneak in?"
"How'd they even know you sneaked in?"
"And why's your hair white, anyway?"
A Ravenclaw does not abide a mystery, alas. Though Sans had been doing well enough in the house so far, last night had clearly crossed a line of some kind.
Plus, with regards to the immediate problem to solve, Sans was the only one there to pester. The other half of the equation—that being the professor who had given the prophecy in the first place—was not in attendance for this meal. Not that she would have been particularly accessible for any share of the incoming questioning, given that the professors sat separately from the students up at the front of the room.
Sans hoped she wasn't missing lunch because of some kind of medical-magical complication with the seer-ing she'd done. After all, the last he'd seen of her, she'd been very unconscious.
That doesn't feel normal, but he doesn't know much about future-vision stuff.
(Anything he'd ever known of events to come was pure lived experience. Unfortunately.)
As the questions continued, one after another after another, there wasn't space for him to try to answer—not that he was particularly inclined to do so.
"Ugh, I had to stay over break and I didn't even get to go," somebody grumbled. "At least I'm smart enough not to sneak in."
Rude.
"How could you lose so many house points?"
"What did the professor say?"
"What is Dumbledore's office like?" pipped in a younger voice. "Did he decorate for the holidays?"
Okay, that last one wasn't too bad, just weird.
"How many detentions did you end up with?"
"At least a week's worth, must be."
"Everyone's said something different, what was the prophesy?"
"Why you?"
Sans had an idea about that, but for obvious reasons he wasn't going to explain. Though, again, he wasn't even given the conversational space to try.
"If that prophecy was given to you, then—"
That question cut off abruptly with a toothy click as the student's mouth snapped shut. In fact, all the questioning cut off, the group backing away slightly as if Sans had suddenly become toxic. He was almost thankful for the reprieve, until he turned around and saw the cause: Professor Snape, looming.
Not exactly the guy he wanted to see, in nearly any circumstance.
A sentiment most of the students seemed to share, given how they'd all immediately retreated as soon as the dread professor entered range.
"hello," said Sans. "uh, sir."
Eyes narrowed—recognizing that the delay there had been on purpose—Snape looked him up and down. "Professor Flitwick has a prior obligation during the time you would have been in detention with him."
Sans opened his mouth to ask, jokingly, if that meant he got off scot-free, but thought better of it. Not that his restraint seemed to matter, seeing the unspoken reprimand in that narrowed gaze; Snape had caught on to what he'd been thinking anyway, just off the change in his expression. It's odd dealing with someone as good at reading others as himself, and Sans still wasn't sure how to feel about it.
(He was leaning towards 'inconvenienced'.)
"As such," the professor continued, "I will be responsible for your first detention."
"ah."
Considering everything: not good.
"You will report to the potions classroom after lunch." Professor Snape peered down at him—or 'stared', 'glared', 'sneered', it was definitely a sharp look of some kind—before seemingly deciding that he'd said enough.
He turned, black robes swirling, and stalked away.
Sans ran through a few mental scenarios for how things might pan out with this change, and concluded: "this might be bad, actually."
"You are so dead," said Laura, sympathetic.
"He's already dead," Luna chirped.
Waving one of his hands at her, fingers splayed, knowing she could see the truth of it, Sans joked, "i dunno, looks pretty alive to me."
Her eyes sparkled with the shared joke, and she airily quipped, "For now."
"ah true. well, i leave all of my random school stuff to you guys, then. split it up however you want." He paused, then shrugged. "and i guess paddy can have the rest."
"For some reason, the idea of your dog with whatever prank stuff you have tucked away is alarming."
"good instincts."
At the very least, the unexpected visit from the school's most beloathed professor seemed to have a sort of repellent effect. Even though Snape was gone—completely, as he'd left the Great Hall shortly after—nobody seemed overly keen on approaching Sans to badger him with questions again.
Not wanting to test the limits of that silver lining, the rest of his midday meal was rather rushed so that he could skedaddle.
Which led him, of course, down to the dungeons.
Sans stared at the heavy wooden door between him and his (probably more problematic than originally expected) detention, impressed at just how menacing it looked outside of his regular class schedule. The difference between sharing the hallway with other students or standing there all alone, he supposed.
Before class, everyone is made to wait outside the lab until the professor lets them in.
Before detention, the expected behavior is less clear. Or at least less clear for Sans: given how many detentions Snape hands out on a daily basis, some students probably have a lot of experience.
After another moment considering options, Sans stepped forward and knocked on the door. He could hear the sound of a latch unhooking, though the door didn't outwardly budge.
"You may enter."
So he did, and the professor gave the instructions in his usual vaguely threatening manner, and Sans got to work.
The detention itself seemed… normal. It was putting him on edge. Just catalog the ingredients in the store-cupboard, counting up quantities and marking it down on the long list he'd been given. Of course, the list already had a number for how much of each thing there should be; maybe it was supposed to make the exercise feel like a waste of time, and therefore more of a punishment.
Busywork.
There had to be more to it—something else going on, he just didn't know what. And with Snape watching from his desk at the front of the room, something tense in the air, Sans was reminded of that time he'd been kept after class for no stated reason.
But, with nothing to go on, Sans just got to counting.
And counting, checking labels, holding the list up against the wall so that he could actually write stuff down and check off items.
And counting, minutes crawling past.
And counting—
Sans regarded the list, then the shelf, then the list again. Counted up the jars one more time, and came to the same discrepancy.
(There had to be more to this.)
"uh, do you keep these somewhere else?"
Snape was still watching him, of course, but with a fresh sense of focus. "Mr. Skelton, don't waste my time with vague statements."
"i think you're missing, like, three bottles of lacewing flies. and maybe a jar of leeches?" He stood on the tips of his toes for a second, trying to read an obscured label just out of arms reach. "yeah, i think so."
"Certain ingredients vanishing from my stock." Dark eyes watched for any reaction. "A very specific assortment, in fact."
Sans paused, hearing an edge to that statement that rang more like a question.
"that sounds like i missed some…" Scanning through the list again, everything else looked alright: either he'd made a mistake somewhere, or he hadn't gotten to them yet. And as he couldn't recall a distraction that could have thrown off an earlier count, he hoped it was the latter. "do you know which ones in particular? nah, wait, don't tell me—that'll be a good double check at the end."
Sans busied himself marking down the presence of a bundle of dried garlic—surprisingly mundane. Then he counted up the packets of dried mistletoe berries, found it matched the expected amount, and was about to move on when the professor stepped over and delicately set down a small shallow box onto the shelf. The label on the side marked the contents as 'Horn of Bicorn', which was not on Sans's list at all.
Which he pointed out, of course. "should i add that, or…?"
"This particular material is not kept in the student store-cupboard." Professor Snape tapped one finger against the lid of the box. "In fact, many of the rarer ingredients are kept in my office."
"alright… so some of this might be kept in your office? i've never been in there." The fact that he could take a shortcut and pop in basically whenever was, obviously, not mentioned.
"Certainly not." He sounded skeptical.
Sans felt rather like he was missing half of this conversation. Clearly the professor was fishing for something—was talking around something—but while the disguised skeleton had plenty of secrets worth being suspicious about, he couldn't figure out which this whole interaction might be trying to get at.
And it was definitely getting at something.
But the list in his hands did give him one idea: "is some of that stuff missing, too?"
He noted down another quantity before realizing that the judgmental silence that he'd been working under up until this point had slanted into consideration. Of what, he wasn't sure; reviewing the last thing he'd said didn't clear anything up. Nonetheless, Snape had just shifted—something had just changed his point of view, and Sans didn't know where he was looking.
"I see. So that's how it is."
"see what?" Sans echoed, still puzzling at the pieces of this interrogation-adjacent detention when it clicked into place. "hold on," he turned away from the potions pantry, wanting a clear read on Snape's reaction, "do you think i have something to do with your missing ingredients?"
That look was definitely a 'yes'—perhaps a 'duh, yes'—even without words.
"this might be a dumb question, but… why?"
"This is not the first time these particular ingredients have gone missing," Professor Snape stated, picking his words as carefully as he stirred his cauldrons. "And you, Mr. Skelton, have the dubious honor of being acquainted with those responsible."
Well, there were a few students that fit that bill, but only the trio would have Snape so grouchy. And Sans did vaguely recall hearing that Hermione had brewed a potion for some kind of scheme back in their second year of school. That wasn't much of a surprise, generally, but it was a shock to learn she'd done it by pilfering ingredients.
"why me and not them?"
That simply got a level stare, so it probably was less of a 'one or the other' situation, and more 'investigate this one first'.
Time to pivot, then. "so what potion can you make with the missing ingredients?"
"Polyjuice potion," Professor Snape answered, blunt but watching closely. "It contains a number of simple ingredients, but does have a few difficult to obtain materials."
The potion name was vaguely familiar, probably because it had come up when he'd been told about Harry and his friends' previous adventure.
Although… that doesn't seem quite right…
"i guess it's not a tricky potion, then?" said Sans, as if he'd never heard of it before. And given he couldn't recall the details, distracted trying to work through both this conversation and the inventory list, it was basically true for the moment. "can't be, if i'm a suspect—given my potions' grades."
Snape scowled—though it might be more accurate to say that his scowl deepened—but reluctantly acknowledged, "No. It is considered to be one of the more difficult potions in the curriculum."
But, of course, even if Sans wasn't skilled enough, he'd be able to get Hermione to brew it for him instead. Presumably.
"if it's a trickier potion, that's more likely to be brewed by trickier people, like the upperclassmen or professors—"
Snape's eyes suddenly narrowed, and Sans realized…
Oh.
Oh, he shouldn't have said that.
As soon as that last word dropped out of his mouth, he knew it was a mistake. Because he'd just remembered where he'd heard of Polyjuice before, and the more interesting example was not from a preteen's school story. Polyjuice potion is a bottled disguise; it probably was a professor filching the ingredients—or rather, a fake pretending to be the guy they'd hired.
And now Sans had just inadvertently pointed the highly paranoid potions professor right in that direction. If Snape actually takes that remark seriously and starts watching for anyone taking regular doses—
Wait.
Is that what had been going on, that odd time the professor had kept him after class for no stated reason? Snape had been checking if he was disguised?
Well, he was, but not via potion. So at least he'd passed that test easily enough.
Whatever test might be happening right now, however, he was less sure of.
Too many revelations, not enough time—the main issue right now is that Snape is likely to be on the lookout. Which may make it difficult to stick to known events, to have that slim upper hand.
But then again, things have already played out differently; as soon as Cassius's name had come out of the Goblet, a lot of things were going to look different no matter what. Not to mention that any of the slightest changes may have already rippled into further unforeseen alterations.
Alright.
Damage control.
"though a professor could buy what they want or just ask, so probably not." He shrugged, and moved on before the unspoken 'why wouldn't they?' could solidify. "there's a lotta extra people in the building this year, too. who knows?"
Sans let the option hang as he shifted focus back to his list and his counting. The professor didn't say anything else, which could be good or bad, and he was still watching closely when he returned to his desk.
Heavy silence settled back over the mostly-empty classroom, only broken up by the scratches of two scribbling quills and the clinking shuffle as Sans rearranged the shelves to count anything at the back.
Maybe Professor Snape wouldn't think much of it.
Maybe he already had.
Nothing for it, now.
At least he was only here for this one detention, with Snape instead of Flitwick. Hopefully the remaining detentions would be less…
Sans cut off that thought with a sharper-than-necessary check mark that nearly bent back the nib of his quill. Come what may, there's no point jinxing anything with optimistic expectations.
Whatever happens, happens.
He'll just have to deal with it.
Author's Note:
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Undertale.
A change in plans, which leads to a potential change in quite a lot of other things.
I'll let you decided if Sans still has the flower crown on in detention. Like, he probably sent it safely away with a shortcut on the walk down, but honestly the mental image is too good to completely pass up.
I'm alive! Spring has sprung!
Where does all the time keep running off to?
I won't make claims on what chapter will be ready next or when, but know that I am still writing and still having fun with it (even if writer's block on TU2ndC has been a real pain for some time now, alas).
So many ideas! Some days I go to write on one of my posted stories, and end up shoulder deep in a different one. And, like, good—but also, Brain, could you focus up a bit?
As ever and always, thank you all so much for the favorites, follows, and reviews!
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Stay safe, and see ya on the flipside, everyone!