The Doctor is in
“I can’t believe you said that to her. What am I saying? Of course I can believe it.” Giles muttered, after Buffy stormed out of the hospital having spent a total of fifteen minutes in Severus’ room.
“Well, I can hardly believe that you’d let your minors insult you so thoroughly, yet that seems to be the case.”
“Buffy and I have a good working relationship. You have no right to upbraid her so.”
“As head of Slytherin House, it is my duty to make sure the members of my house get the respect they’re due.”
“That’s a load of bull; I haven’t been in Slytherin for at least a decade. You shouldn’t have insulted her, or her mother, and you know it.”
“A good mother would raise her child to be respectful of her elders.”
“Joyce is one of the best mothers I’ve ever met. Don’t you dare insult her.” If the Scoobies were there, they would have classified his glare as Ripper-esque. “Buffy has suffered enough to earn her the right to make comments. I don’t want you saying anything derogatory to her.”
“Oh yes, let’s do give the tortured hero every benefit of the doubt so that she never has to account for her actions. That will surely make the world a better place.” Snape spat out.
Giles opened his mouth to retort then frowned. His voice was noticeably calmer when he observed. “This isn’t about Buffy, is it? This is about James’ son.”
“This has nothing to do with Potter.” Severus muttered, but Giles noticed the heart monitor pick up a bit.
“This has everything to do with Potter. You haven’t known Buffy long enough to hate her so thoroughly.”
“That means I’m right, doesn’t it? You never did like that James’
son succeeded at toppling your idol.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“And now you have to teach the boy too, don’t you?”
“Obviously not, if I’m stuck in a muggle hospital room until I die.” Severus retorted.
“I wonder if you might consider this the better option.”
“Now you’re sounding like that crazy doctor.”
“Perhaps, but I bet my diagnosis is far closer to the truth than anything Dr. Rosenberg could come up with.”
“You sound so sure. Has the watcher’s council taken up divination now?”
“Hardly, but I have extensive practice reading you.”
“Not as well as I can read you.”
Giles met Severus’ eyes. “I don’t need legilimency to know you’re still fighting the past.”
Severus glanced up at the ceiling stubbornly. “At least I stayed and fought.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re the psychologist. You figure it out.”
“Let’s try it from the top!” Professor Flitwick called out.
“Boil, boil, toil and trouble…” Giles sang along with Wilbur Whimple, or rather, Giles sang and Wilbur croaked.
Flitwick waved his wand to cut them off. “Maybe we should try this one at a time. Mr. Giles, if you would please?” Giles began the first line of the school hymn. They had been working on this song since the beginning of the term and he was beginning to wonder if Flitwick knew any other songs.
“That’s very nice, Mr. Giles. Now, Mr. Whimple?” Professor Flitwick offered a helpful grin at the pudgy Hufflepuff. Wilbur attempted to sing, but other than succeeding marvelously at blushing, the attempt was a complete failure. “Ah, perhaps we need to work on that part later.” Professor Flitwick flinched. “For now, would you like to sing the bass part?”
“Okay, sir.” Wilbur sighed, trying to ignore the giggling from the sopranos. He always got relegated to singing with the frogs.
“Let’s pick it up from Cauldron, so that we have all parts!” Flitwick tapped his wand on the podium, but before he could give a downbeat, there was a knock on the door.
“Excuse me, Professor Flitwick.”
“Professor Dumbledore, what a pleasant surprise. Would you like to sit in on our rehearsal?”
The headmaster waved at the class, smiling and nodding at the choir, but his face sobered up as he answered. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t come to observe the choir. May I speak with you in the hall?”
“Yes, yes, of course. Ladies and gentlemen, please wait quietly while I go out and talk to the headmaster.” Professor Flitwick hopped off the podium and followed Dumbledore outside.
“What do you suppose that’s about?” One of the Ravenclaw girls asked.
“I suppose if it’s really important, we’ll find out.” Wilbur shrugged.
Rupert watched as the Slytherin girls walked off to the far corner of the room and began whispering amongst themselves. The other students sat down on the risers, leaving plenty of space between them and the Slytherins in the corner.
“So, how long do you suppose they’ll be out there?” Another Ravenclaw girl wondered.
“I don’t suppose it really matters, does it?” Rupert answered. “We’ve been on the same song since the beginning of the semester. I don’t think missing ten minutes, or even thirty, are going to matter in the long run.”
“That’s for sure.” One of the Gryffindor girls agreed. “I thought choir here would be something like choir back home, but this is ridiculous.”
“You must be a muggleborn.” A Ravenclaw observed.
“You mean all wizarding schools have lame choirs?”
“It’s not lame.” One of the Hufflepuffs spoke up. “Professor Flitwick just wants to make sure we sound really good on this song.”
“I get that, really I do. I just think it would be nice to have some variety. Maybe the school fight song as well as the anthem and the hymn. Or maybe something completely different … we should do a musical!” Rupert was amused by how the Gryffindor’s green eyes sparkled with her suggestion.
“I can see it now, The Hogwarts Choir and Drama Department would like to present the Wizard of Oz!” Rupert teased.
“Oh that would be perfect! We could have a Gryff play the cowardly lion, a Ravenclaw play the scarecrow, and a Hufflepuff play the tin man!” The muggle born students laughed, and some of the wizard raised girls chuckled, just to blend in.
“But what would the Slytherins play?”
“Oh that’s obvious.” Rupert grinned. “I’d be the Wizard.”
“Why do you get to be the wizard? Shouldn’t we all play wizards… or witches.” One of the Ravenclaw wizard-borns cut in.
“Well, for one thing, the play only has one wizard and that Wizard is in the Emerald City, which is green like Slytherin. For another thing, the Wizard was a sly scoundrel that got what he wanted- I can’t think of a better house to play it. Ignore the man behind the curtain, bwa-ha ha!”
“That’s brilliant!” The Gryffindor giggled.
Rupert grinned. “Well, we can suggest it to Flitwick as soon as we finish the school hymn, how about that? By the way, what’s your name?”
“Lily, Lily Evans.” She offered.
“Lily, that’s a pretty name.” Rupert smiled winningly. “I know it’s crazy not to know everyone’s name after we’ve been here for a year, but I blame the teachers.”
“Well, I know that you,” Rupert pointed to one of the inquisitive Ravenclaws, “are Ms. Bosenbody and you,” he pointed to another, “are Ms. Peasegood.” He said in his best professor impersonation. “But, I don’t know anyone’s first name outside of my house.”
“Yes, and what a lovely house it is.” Another Gryffindor glanced at the Slytherin delegation across the room.
“Well, we do have our charms.” Rupert winked at her.
“So, what’s it like to be a Slytherin?” Ms. Bosenbody asked.
“I suppose it’s a bit like being a boy.” Rupert answered.
“How so?” The girls all leaned forward.
“Well, I don’t exactly have any other experience to compare it with, so I can’t rightly say.” All the girls sighed. “What? You wanted a better explanation?”
“Well, actually yes.”
“It’s a house. I keep my stuff there and go to sleep there. What do you want me to say?”
“No, we meant the other part.” One of the Ravenclaws clarified.
“What? You mean, about being a boy?” The girls nodded eagerly. “What kind of a question is that?”
“Well, what do boys like?”
“What do you think Whimple?” Rupert tried to pass the question on, but the Hufflepuff just blushed and shrugged. “Well, boys like lots of things, like quidditch, or football, or…” Rupert paused to think. “Explosions; explosions are very cool.”
Some of the girls rolled their eyes. “But what do boys like, like in a girl?” One of the giggling Hufflepuffs asked.
“Why are you asking me?” Rupert frowned.
“Good point, I mean if you’re in choir…”
“Please don’t finish that thought.” Rupert interrupted Amelia Bosenbody. “I guess you can say it depends on the guy.”
“Well, what do you like?” Lily quickly asked.
“Me?” Rupert’s voice squeaked. He had a feeling that this was what his father was talking about last summer when he insisted on having the birds and the bees talk. There was something in that lecture about how the queen bees always had their stingers and it took nothing to get a swarm ready to sting, so it was best just to stay away from the hives altogether, but at the time Rupert thought he dad was just stalling from the exciting part. “Well, I like a girl who has a pretty smile.” He offered, figuring it was far less offensive than the first three things that popped into his head.
“And?” One of the Ravenclaws prompted.
“And… um,” He looked to Whimple for help, but Wilbur just looked as if he was too afraid to touch the conversation with a ten foot pole- and he thought Hufflepuffs were supposed to be stupid. “Well, it’s nice if the girl is clean, you know. If she smells pretty, that’s better than if she doesn’t?” All the girls nodded as if he were offering the meaning of life. “So, um, what do girls like?” He hoped he could turn the conversation around on them.
“Chocolate.” They all answered.
“Hear that Whimple? The secret to dating is to become a Cadbury bar.” Rupert rolled his eyes.
Before the conversation could get any farther, Professor Dumbledore came back into the room. “I’m sorry class, but Professor Flitwick had to leave for a family emergency. I’ll be covering his classes while he is away.” The students all stared at the headmaster in shock. “So, stand up, get in place.” He offered cheerily. “Now does anyone have any requests? Yes, Ms. Evans?”
“Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” the Gryffindor answered,
earning a few snickers from the muggleborns.
“Hmm, I’m not familiar with that one, but it sounds like a lovely thing to make up as we go along. Alright class, on five…”