A Gift For stgulik: Yes! I Killed An Elf for Your Holiday Pleasure, (Remus/Septima)
Author: are_guile
Recipient: stgulik
Title: Yes! I Killed An Elf for Your Holiday Pleasure
Pairing: Remus Lupin/Septima Vector
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2500 on the schnoz
Summary: A crater-pocked holiday plot with murder, pastries, and the Wizengamot
Author's Notes: stgulik, this was not inflicted on a beta and it shows, but contains everything you asked for (Lupin! Umbridge! A murder mystery! Atmosphere!) and my very fervent desire that you enjoy it. And every blessing on the mods, who got me over the finish line when I was sure I couldn't. Thank you!
Dolores Umbridge jumped the buffet queue at the Ministry Holiday Elevenses and piled six enormous pastries into a box, smiling acidly at the disapproving clerk who saw her do it. "I think it interesting that you've time to stand about gossiping, Thrips, considering the state of gnome relations. That's under your purview, isn't it?" She closed the lid. "Myself, I find working hours are best spent working."
She returned to her office. Anyone with half a knut of ambition could advance in this organization. Most of her colleagues were legacies or sinecures who thought about nothing all week but the weekend, and were more than happy to let a self-starter like herself drive the agenda. She sat at her reproduction Regency writing table, ankles daintily crossed, and shook the excess icing sugar from a Snowy Toadcake. "The waste and extravagance this time of year is appalling, Alma, don't you agree?"
The kitten trapped in the plate meowed silently in agreement and chased after the sugar drifts that snowed down on it.
"Well, we are not on holiday, are we?" she added. She took a large bite of the Toadcake, caught the cream that squirted down her chin with her tongue, and settled into the files piled on the table. Although she'd denied it to the cat, Dolores did feel as if she were on holiday: she had purposefully saved this particularly delicious task to savor during the office party as her own little celebration. Nothing quite so festive and cozy as eating Toadcakes and reviewing case studies of the Anti-Werewolf bill in action! She popped the last bite into her mouth -- it was more than could comfortably fit, but she worked her lips around it -- and gleefully opened the first case file, detailing the conditions in a werewolf shanty town on the outskirts of Dunmeade.
An hour later she pushed back from the desk, sated with proof that the werewolves of Wizarding Britain were being removed from society at a very satisfying clip, thanks to the airtight bill she'd written. And once they had Snape's new potion in distribution, not only would there be no more lycanthropic abominations created through attack, but their desire to create little werewolves the old-fashioned way would end as well. She had all the material she needed to make an excellent year-end report to Fudge, and felt certain she would be getting measured for her Wizengamot toque before the dolts and layabouts out front in reception were finished snapping crackers.
As her quill merrily scritched out the introduction, a paper airplane memo navigated the colored lights and silvery garlands of the office party, dodging Christmas poppers and the awkward dancing of Algernon Twombly, en route to Umbridge's office. It hovered outside the closed door a moment, then shot through the vent alongside and landed on the now-empty pastry box.
Dolores was annoyed at the interruption. "Who else could possibly be working today?" she wondered as she unfolded it. As she read, her features did not move but her face darkened puce. Impossible! And right under his gigantic nose, no less!
She got down on all fours in front of the fireplace, tossed in some Floo powder and stuck her head in. "Professor Snape! A word please! It is my understanding that there is exactly one werewolf at the Hogwarts, and that he is being dosed with new Wolfsbane brewed personally by you. Kindly explain how it is that on the night of the full moon the body of a mauled house elf was left on the Grand Staircase? Snape? Snape? Answer!" There was no response.
Dolores shook the soot from her bouffant. "Well, Alma, it appears we're going on a Christmas holiday after all." She picked up the plate, licked it thoroughly, and popped into her handbag.
***
Hogwarts was almost entirely deserted. The students had departed for holidays three days earlier, and most of the faculty were gone as well. A few students with nowhere to go remained and a skeleton faculty stayed on to watch them. The weeks between terms were traditionally a busy time for the house elves, during which they did a deep clean of the school and corridors, but the quills and bits of parchment and other detritus of the exodus lay unswept in the corridors because the whole house elf community was in a dither of terror and sadness over the murder of Frimby.
Linney the house-elf greeted Umbridge at the apparition point outside the gate and deeply bowed to her. "Linney brings regrets from Headmaster Dumbledore, Madam Junior Undersecretary Umbridge. Headmaster is away on business of great importance. But Headmaster told Linney to make ready a room for asking questions."
Dolores filed this slight away. Someday Dumbledore's interests would be before the Wizengamot and he'd wish he'd jolly well legged it down here to greet her. "That will be fine. Tell me...Linney? What do the house elves think of this dreadful situation? Who do they think the murderer is?"
"Linney is not sure she should say, Madam Junior Undersecretary."
"But you can be a great help, Linney. I am here to find the murderer and make sure Hogwarts is safe for house-elves and students."
Linney's enormous eyes looked left and right. "House-elves are saying it was a...a... werewolf ate Frimby."
Dolores thought she might already be too late; the house-elves were terrible gossips. It would be best if the matter could be dealt with quickly and the word werewolf never hit the papers. There were already those who felt the laws were so restrictive that the Lycanthropic community would lash out. And a major werewolf rebellion was not a rung on her ladder to the Wizengamot! Dolores smiled and shook her head. "Werewolf? Oh, that is nonsense. I can assure you of that! I myself have personally written legislation that prevents werewolves from having jobs or mixing with decent society in any way! There are no werewolves in Hogwarts to hurt house-elves. But there is someone, and I intend to find out who. "
Linney opened the door to a small room with a wooden table and two chairs, and a fire crackling on the hearth. Linney took Umbridge's pink tweed cloak and hung it on the peg behind the door. "Will Madam Junior Undersecretary be wanting tea?" Linney asked.
"What kind of cakes are there today?" asked Dolores as she arranged her files on the table.
"Linney is sorry to say it but there are no cakes. The kitchen elves are too upset to bake. Croney is wailing for Frimby and afterwards ironing his hands for not baking. And then Croney is wailling again."
"Have some Snowy Toadcakes sent up from Honeydukes in Hogsmeade, then. Three. No, four, I think." Umbridge removed Alma from her bag and set the plate on the table nearest the fire, where she purred. "And have Professor Snape sent in."
**
Severus Snape swept into the room with his usual drama, his ridiculous wedding gown of a robe filling the tiny interrogation chamber. Dolores fought the urge to laugh; she knew him well in his spindly-git-gets-pantsed days, and a few galleons dropped at the tentmakers did not rewrite history. "Please sit, Severus."
Snape stood with his arms crossed.
"As you wish," she said, snapping open her file folder. "The facts here are clear. The body of Frimby, a house-elf employed at Hogwarts, was found mangled and dismembered at the foot of the Grand Staircase this morning. His remains were examined at St. Mungo's and it was determined that his injuries are consistent with those of a werewolf attack. The moon was full on the night of the attack, and one of the thirteen people in Hogwarts over the holiday break is a known werewolf you are using as a test subject for the new formulation of Wolfsbane. So tell me, Severus," Dolores said, "do we have a second werewolf at Hogwarts or have you merely failed to contain the one we knew about?"
"Remus Lupin has been asleep and drooling under supervision since sundown last night."
"Oh really? Under your personal supervision, as stipulated by the contract you have with the Ministry?"
Snape did not answer.
Dolores came around the side of the Potions Master. "So, if not you, who exactly was supervising Professor Lupin, hmm?"
Snape looked straight ahead. "Septima Vector."
"Septima Vector? And why, pray, was he with Septima Vector when he ought to have been with you?"
"One of the effects the Ministry wishes to see in the new Wolfsbane potion is the complete absence of libido in the subject throughout the lunar cycle. In order to study the efficacy of the anaphrodisiac, I require the subject to be....capably enticed...at regular intervals throughout the month."
Umbridge's eyebrows went up and she sniffed an appreciative hunh. "Clever use use of materials at hand, Severus. Septima's reputation as rather loose stretches all the way back to our days in Slytherin house."
"Indeed."
"I'll take this up with her, then. Where's that elf? Linney? Linney! Fetch Professors Vector and Lupin to me. And Severus, you may continue doing...whatever it is you were doing instead of keeping an eye on your test subject."
**
Linney popped into Professor Vector's bedchamber and quickly looked away from the rangy nude form of Remus Lupin sprawled on a cushion in a sunny corner, surrounded by candle stubs and silk scarves.
"Ah...um...ah...good morning, Professor Lupin, sir."
Lupin stretched and yawned. Mmmm, for the morning after a full moon he felt incredible. The Oak Moon had been in apogee, maybe that explained it? Or maybe it was just that he was happier in general since Septima had come into his life. The idea of it -- him! A tattered outcast in a threadbare cardigan, companion to the beguiling Siren of Slytherin! He wished Prongs, who'd only taken up with Lily after Septima shot his cocky arse down, were alive to see it.
"Yes, Linney? What is it? Ooops, pardon," he saw that his nakedness was alarming her, so gallantly cupped himself with one hand and bid her to continue with the other.
"Undersecretary Umbridge wishes to see Professors Lupin and Vector directly, sir."
"Umbridge? Here at Hogwarts?"
"Yes sir. In a chamber near the library, sir."
"Whatever for?"
"Oh sir, it's been a horrible morning, sir! Frimby was killed! And the house-elves are in a tizzy and Headmaster is not here! Sir, they are saying that a werewolf killed Frimby!"
The good sun-dappled feeling evaporated immediately and tentacles of dread began unfurling in his intestines. He looked around the bedchamber. "Where's Septima?"
The house-elf's eyes rolled toward the gilt floor mirror, where a bit of parchment was stuck. What a night, Moony! Urgent family business calls in Mantua. . .See you after the hols, you sexy beast!
"Wait, she's gone? When did she leave, Linney?"
"Linney does not know. Here are Professor Lupin's pants, please, sir."
**
There was not much that unsettled Dolores Umbridge. A staid tweed suit, steadfast slip-ons, and the righteous fist of law kept most of life's nuisances at bay. But she was always nervous dealing directly with werewolves, even in their human form. She stroked Alma for comfort and worried her lip until the knock came.
"You asked to see me, Undersecretary?"
She could not bring herself to look at him. Alma arched her back and stalked back and forth across the plate, hissing. "Sit, please. Where is Professor Vector?"
"She's been called away on urgent business."
Umbridge continued ticking imaginary boxes on her parchment, avoiding Lupin's eyes. "My, there is certainly a lot of urgent business off campus today. One would think that the suspicious death of a house elf would rate higher on the priority schedule. When will she return? She is a person of interest in this matter."
"After the holidays, Undersecretary."
"That is unfortunate for you, as I understand she is your alibi for the murder of Frimby the house-elf."
"That's absurd. I haven't killed anyone. Last night was the full moon and I was soundly asleep, under the influence of Professor Snape's wolfsbane potion."
"Was Professor Snape with you?"
"He administered the dose, made some notes, and when he was satisfied the effects were underway, he left."
"I see. Who did he leave you with?"
"Professor Vector. We have an arrangement."
"How charming. And what are the details of this arrangement?"
"Professor Snape leaves me in her care after every third dose of the new Wolfsbane potion. We have a lovely time together -- she always has nice treats and there's a wonderful cushion in the corner. She gives great belly rubs."
Dolores's quill stilled, and she looked up at Remus. "So you mean to say you spend ten nights per month in the bedchamber of wanton jezebel Septima Vector, and she gives you belly rubs and then you fall asleep?"
"Yes. What more could one want in life? Just a comfortable spot on the floor and a bit of rare beef, that's our routine."
Well bless us every one, thought Dolores. Snape's anaphrodisiac works. But if Remus hadn't killed Frimby, who had?
Green flames bloomed in the hearth and the greasy head of Severus Snape popped in. "I have interesting news out of St. Mungo's. Two DNA types have been isolated from the remains. One is that of a male elf. And the other is from a female Canis lupis."
Both Remus and Dolores jumped from their chairs. "Septima!"
The two old schoolmates dashed into the corridor, unsure of what to do next. "Should we call the Aurors?" Lupin asked.
"No!" spat Umbridge. "What we need right now is a fixer. Someone who doesn't mind a bit of international extralegal capering, who can be trusted to keep quiet and do the necessary thing..."
A helix of golden sparks spun into shape in front of them. "Here I am," announced Albus Dumbledore. "Just back from Mantua with the newest addition to Snape's clinical trial in tow. Seems she was a bit aggressive with a love bite she tried to give you last night, got herself infected, and then wandered onto the stairs looking for a snack."
"Love bite?" asked Remus. "I don't remember a love bite at all."
"I imagine you were asleep, dear boy."
"What about the elf, Albus? How will we explain what happened to him?"
"I believe St. Mungo's found that the initial report of werewolf attack was incorrect, and that the true cause of death was trauma incurred from carelessly sweeping up an unexploded Whizzer leftover from the Yule Ball. Occupational hazard, I'm afraid." He turned to Umbridge. "I imagine you'll be on your way then, Dolores."
"I just need to pick up my things from the interrogation room," she said, scooting behind the door to where her cloak hung. She dropped Alma into her handbag and crammed the last Toadcake into her mouth. "Coming!" she mumbled around it.
Recipient: stgulik
Title: Yes! I Killed An Elf for Your Holiday Pleasure
Pairing: Remus Lupin/Septima Vector
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2500 on the schnoz
Summary: A crater-pocked holiday plot with murder, pastries, and the Wizengamot
Author's Notes: stgulik, this was not inflicted on a beta and it shows, but contains everything you asked for (Lupin! Umbridge! A murder mystery! Atmosphere!) and my very fervent desire that you enjoy it. And every blessing on the mods, who got me over the finish line when I was sure I couldn't. Thank you!
Dolores Umbridge jumped the buffet queue at the Ministry Holiday Elevenses and piled six enormous pastries into a box, smiling acidly at the disapproving clerk who saw her do it. "I think it interesting that you've time to stand about gossiping, Thrips, considering the state of gnome relations. That's under your purview, isn't it?" She closed the lid. "Myself, I find working hours are best spent working."
She returned to her office. Anyone with half a knut of ambition could advance in this organization. Most of her colleagues were legacies or sinecures who thought about nothing all week but the weekend, and were more than happy to let a self-starter like herself drive the agenda. She sat at her reproduction Regency writing table, ankles daintily crossed, and shook the excess icing sugar from a Snowy Toadcake. "The waste and extravagance this time of year is appalling, Alma, don't you agree?"
The kitten trapped in the plate meowed silently in agreement and chased after the sugar drifts that snowed down on it.
"Well, we are not on holiday, are we?" she added. She took a large bite of the Toadcake, caught the cream that squirted down her chin with her tongue, and settled into the files piled on the table. Although she'd denied it to the cat, Dolores did feel as if she were on holiday: she had purposefully saved this particularly delicious task to savor during the office party as her own little celebration. Nothing quite so festive and cozy as eating Toadcakes and reviewing case studies of the Anti-Werewolf bill in action! She popped the last bite into her mouth -- it was more than could comfortably fit, but she worked her lips around it -- and gleefully opened the first case file, detailing the conditions in a werewolf shanty town on the outskirts of Dunmeade.
An hour later she pushed back from the desk, sated with proof that the werewolves of Wizarding Britain were being removed from society at a very satisfying clip, thanks to the airtight bill she'd written. And once they had Snape's new potion in distribution, not only would there be no more lycanthropic abominations created through attack, but their desire to create little werewolves the old-fashioned way would end as well. She had all the material she needed to make an excellent year-end report to Fudge, and felt certain she would be getting measured for her Wizengamot toque before the dolts and layabouts out front in reception were finished snapping crackers.
As her quill merrily scritched out the introduction, a paper airplane memo navigated the colored lights and silvery garlands of the office party, dodging Christmas poppers and the awkward dancing of Algernon Twombly, en route to Umbridge's office. It hovered outside the closed door a moment, then shot through the vent alongside and landed on the now-empty pastry box.
Dolores was annoyed at the interruption. "Who else could possibly be working today?" she wondered as she unfolded it. As she read, her features did not move but her face darkened puce. Impossible! And right under his gigantic nose, no less!
She got down on all fours in front of the fireplace, tossed in some Floo powder and stuck her head in. "Professor Snape! A word please! It is my understanding that there is exactly one werewolf at the Hogwarts, and that he is being dosed with new Wolfsbane brewed personally by you. Kindly explain how it is that on the night of the full moon the body of a mauled house elf was left on the Grand Staircase? Snape? Snape? Answer!" There was no response.
Dolores shook the soot from her bouffant. "Well, Alma, it appears we're going on a Christmas holiday after all." She picked up the plate, licked it thoroughly, and popped into her handbag.
***
Hogwarts was almost entirely deserted. The students had departed for holidays three days earlier, and most of the faculty were gone as well. A few students with nowhere to go remained and a skeleton faculty stayed on to watch them. The weeks between terms were traditionally a busy time for the house elves, during which they did a deep clean of the school and corridors, but the quills and bits of parchment and other detritus of the exodus lay unswept in the corridors because the whole house elf community was in a dither of terror and sadness over the murder of Frimby.
Linney the house-elf greeted Umbridge at the apparition point outside the gate and deeply bowed to her. "Linney brings regrets from Headmaster Dumbledore, Madam Junior Undersecretary Umbridge. Headmaster is away on business of great importance. But Headmaster told Linney to make ready a room for asking questions."
Dolores filed this slight away. Someday Dumbledore's interests would be before the Wizengamot and he'd wish he'd jolly well legged it down here to greet her. "That will be fine. Tell me...Linney? What do the house elves think of this dreadful situation? Who do they think the murderer is?"
"Linney is not sure she should say, Madam Junior Undersecretary."
"But you can be a great help, Linney. I am here to find the murderer and make sure Hogwarts is safe for house-elves and students."
Linney's enormous eyes looked left and right. "House-elves are saying it was a...a... werewolf ate Frimby."
Dolores thought she might already be too late; the house-elves were terrible gossips. It would be best if the matter could be dealt with quickly and the word werewolf never hit the papers. There were already those who felt the laws were so restrictive that the Lycanthropic community would lash out. And a major werewolf rebellion was not a rung on her ladder to the Wizengamot! Dolores smiled and shook her head. "Werewolf? Oh, that is nonsense. I can assure you of that! I myself have personally written legislation that prevents werewolves from having jobs or mixing with decent society in any way! There are no werewolves in Hogwarts to hurt house-elves. But there is someone, and I intend to find out who. "
Linney opened the door to a small room with a wooden table and two chairs, and a fire crackling on the hearth. Linney took Umbridge's pink tweed cloak and hung it on the peg behind the door. "Will Madam Junior Undersecretary be wanting tea?" Linney asked.
"What kind of cakes are there today?" asked Dolores as she arranged her files on the table.
"Linney is sorry to say it but there are no cakes. The kitchen elves are too upset to bake. Croney is wailing for Frimby and afterwards ironing his hands for not baking. And then Croney is wailling again."
"Have some Snowy Toadcakes sent up from Honeydukes in Hogsmeade, then. Three. No, four, I think." Umbridge removed Alma from her bag and set the plate on the table nearest the fire, where she purred. "And have Professor Snape sent in."
**
Severus Snape swept into the room with his usual drama, his ridiculous wedding gown of a robe filling the tiny interrogation chamber. Dolores fought the urge to laugh; she knew him well in his spindly-git-gets-pantsed days, and a few galleons dropped at the tentmakers did not rewrite history. "Please sit, Severus."
Snape stood with his arms crossed.
"As you wish," she said, snapping open her file folder. "The facts here are clear. The body of Frimby, a house-elf employed at Hogwarts, was found mangled and dismembered at the foot of the Grand Staircase this morning. His remains were examined at St. Mungo's and it was determined that his injuries are consistent with those of a werewolf attack. The moon was full on the night of the attack, and one of the thirteen people in Hogwarts over the holiday break is a known werewolf you are using as a test subject for the new formulation of Wolfsbane. So tell me, Severus," Dolores said, "do we have a second werewolf at Hogwarts or have you merely failed to contain the one we knew about?"
"Remus Lupin has been asleep and drooling under supervision since sundown last night."
"Oh really? Under your personal supervision, as stipulated by the contract you have with the Ministry?"
Snape did not answer.
Dolores came around the side of the Potions Master. "So, if not you, who exactly was supervising Professor Lupin, hmm?"
Snape looked straight ahead. "Septima Vector."
"Septima Vector? And why, pray, was he with Septima Vector when he ought to have been with you?"
"One of the effects the Ministry wishes to see in the new Wolfsbane potion is the complete absence of libido in the subject throughout the lunar cycle. In order to study the efficacy of the anaphrodisiac, I require the subject to be....capably enticed...at regular intervals throughout the month."
Umbridge's eyebrows went up and she sniffed an appreciative hunh. "Clever use use of materials at hand, Severus. Septima's reputation as rather loose stretches all the way back to our days in Slytherin house."
"Indeed."
"I'll take this up with her, then. Where's that elf? Linney? Linney! Fetch Professors Vector and Lupin to me. And Severus, you may continue doing...whatever it is you were doing instead of keeping an eye on your test subject."
**
Linney popped into Professor Vector's bedchamber and quickly looked away from the rangy nude form of Remus Lupin sprawled on a cushion in a sunny corner, surrounded by candle stubs and silk scarves.
"Ah...um...ah...good morning, Professor Lupin, sir."
Lupin stretched and yawned. Mmmm, for the morning after a full moon he felt incredible. The Oak Moon had been in apogee, maybe that explained it? Or maybe it was just that he was happier in general since Septima had come into his life. The idea of it -- him! A tattered outcast in a threadbare cardigan, companion to the beguiling Siren of Slytherin! He wished Prongs, who'd only taken up with Lily after Septima shot his cocky arse down, were alive to see it.
"Yes, Linney? What is it? Ooops, pardon," he saw that his nakedness was alarming her, so gallantly cupped himself with one hand and bid her to continue with the other.
"Undersecretary Umbridge wishes to see Professors Lupin and Vector directly, sir."
"Umbridge? Here at Hogwarts?"
"Yes sir. In a chamber near the library, sir."
"Whatever for?"
"Oh sir, it's been a horrible morning, sir! Frimby was killed! And the house-elves are in a tizzy and Headmaster is not here! Sir, they are saying that a werewolf killed Frimby!"
The good sun-dappled feeling evaporated immediately and tentacles of dread began unfurling in his intestines. He looked around the bedchamber. "Where's Septima?"
The house-elf's eyes rolled toward the gilt floor mirror, where a bit of parchment was stuck. What a night, Moony! Urgent family business calls in Mantua. . .See you after the hols, you sexy beast!
"Wait, she's gone? When did she leave, Linney?"
"Linney does not know. Here are Professor Lupin's pants, please, sir."
**
There was not much that unsettled Dolores Umbridge. A staid tweed suit, steadfast slip-ons, and the righteous fist of law kept most of life's nuisances at bay. But she was always nervous dealing directly with werewolves, even in their human form. She stroked Alma for comfort and worried her lip until the knock came.
"You asked to see me, Undersecretary?"
She could not bring herself to look at him. Alma arched her back and stalked back and forth across the plate, hissing. "Sit, please. Where is Professor Vector?"
"She's been called away on urgent business."
Umbridge continued ticking imaginary boxes on her parchment, avoiding Lupin's eyes. "My, there is certainly a lot of urgent business off campus today. One would think that the suspicious death of a house elf would rate higher on the priority schedule. When will she return? She is a person of interest in this matter."
"After the holidays, Undersecretary."
"That is unfortunate for you, as I understand she is your alibi for the murder of Frimby the house-elf."
"That's absurd. I haven't killed anyone. Last night was the full moon and I was soundly asleep, under the influence of Professor Snape's wolfsbane potion."
"Was Professor Snape with you?"
"He administered the dose, made some notes, and when he was satisfied the effects were underway, he left."
"I see. Who did he leave you with?"
"Professor Vector. We have an arrangement."
"How charming. And what are the details of this arrangement?"
"Professor Snape leaves me in her care after every third dose of the new Wolfsbane potion. We have a lovely time together -- she always has nice treats and there's a wonderful cushion in the corner. She gives great belly rubs."
Dolores's quill stilled, and she looked up at Remus. "So you mean to say you spend ten nights per month in the bedchamber of wanton jezebel Septima Vector, and she gives you belly rubs and then you fall asleep?"
"Yes. What more could one want in life? Just a comfortable spot on the floor and a bit of rare beef, that's our routine."
Well bless us every one, thought Dolores. Snape's anaphrodisiac works. But if Remus hadn't killed Frimby, who had?
Green flames bloomed in the hearth and the greasy head of Severus Snape popped in. "I have interesting news out of St. Mungo's. Two DNA types have been isolated from the remains. One is that of a male elf. And the other is from a female Canis lupis."
Both Remus and Dolores jumped from their chairs. "Septima!"
The two old schoolmates dashed into the corridor, unsure of what to do next. "Should we call the Aurors?" Lupin asked.
"No!" spat Umbridge. "What we need right now is a fixer. Someone who doesn't mind a bit of international extralegal capering, who can be trusted to keep quiet and do the necessary thing..."
A helix of golden sparks spun into shape in front of them. "Here I am," announced Albus Dumbledore. "Just back from Mantua with the newest addition to Snape's clinical trial in tow. Seems she was a bit aggressive with a love bite she tried to give you last night, got herself infected, and then wandered onto the stairs looking for a snack."
"Love bite?" asked Remus. "I don't remember a love bite at all."
"I imagine you were asleep, dear boy."
"What about the elf, Albus? How will we explain what happened to him?"
"I believe St. Mungo's found that the initial report of werewolf attack was incorrect, and that the true cause of death was trauma incurred from carelessly sweeping up an unexploded Whizzer leftover from the Yule Ball. Occupational hazard, I'm afraid." He turned to Umbridge. "I imagine you'll be on your way then, Dolores."
"I just need to pick up my things from the interrogation room," she said, scooting behind the door to where her cloak hung. She dropped Alma into her handbag and crammed the last Toadcake into her mouth. "Coming!" she mumbled around it.