To Make Much of Time

Disclaimer in chapter 1, acknowledgements at end.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Some two weeks after testing the Hogwarts students, the Senior Undersecretary was sitting down to a cup of milky tea and a plate of chocolate biscuits when her door swung open. She struggled to her feet.

"Minister! To what do I owe the honor?"

Percy's mouth was a tight line as he slapped the evening edition of the Prophet on her desk. "This is the problem."

Dolores skimmed the front page. "I fail to see anything to be upset about. It's not as if anyone expected the Cannons to do well this season."

"Not that! I meant this!" The Minister tapped an article at the very bottom right of the front page, which was partially obscured by an advertisement for Priam's Peerless Pomade. "What have you to say for yourself?"

The Undersecretary swallowed hard. Some eager new reporter at the Prophet had done his or her homework and had uncovered something that was distinctly not in her plans.

"Surely, this is an exaggeration."

"I wish it were, Dolores, I wish it were. I've been over the reports myself. In the two weeks that the Department of Deflorestation has been open, approximately twenty appointments have been made, but not one young person has appeared for his or her appointment. The families are furious."

A line appeared between the Undersecretary's eyebrows. "The charmed amulets should reveal their location."

"Yes," agreed Percy, taking a large sip of her tea, "they should, but they're not. One moment, they're in Hogwarts, and the next moment they've vanished without a trace."

"What do you mean, 'without a trace?'" asked Dolores, eyes sharp.

"They're simply not traceable," said Percy, sitting across the desk. He seized a biscuit and shoved it into his mouth. "It's as if the amulets simply cease to function."

The Undersecretary bit back a few sharp words. "What steps have been taken to locate them?"

"Everything I can think of," said the Minister heatedly, "but the Headmistress opposes me at every turn. She refused to let my observers into the school. She bullied the governors into passing an ordinance forbidding students to miss classes for their appointments. As it is, the only times we're allowed to bring children here are on weekends and at night after curfew. However, they disappear sometime before curfew and for entire weekends, and we receive no signal from their amulets when they're gone."

"Are they missing classes?" asked the Undersecretary hopefully.

"Not a one," said Percy grimly. "I did manage to check all the students' wands for any suspicious spells, like invisibility, concealment, and traveling spells, but I came up empty-handed. Blast it, the Headmistress has been about as helpful as a first year's Aguamenti in the great London Fire, and we're completely dished if we haven't some answer for the parents!"

"Are they getting outside help?" asked Dolores.

"We've been patrolling the edges of the anti-Apparation barrier since the law was passed," said Percy, sucking sulkily on a piece of shortbread. "If someone has organized a resistance, it's someone inside Hogwarts. All of the likely suspects have been monitored, but we have nothing concrete to base accusations on."

Dolores's mouth flattened into a scarlet slash across her broad face. "Granger," she whispered.

"What?" The Minister's mouth was full.

"Nothing," said the Undersecretary. "I was just thinking that perhaps we might enlist friendlier help at Hogwarts. It seemed to me as if the Headmistress was hardly amenable to the legislation and is therefore unlikely to lend us her best support."

"Damned insubordination."

"Too true," agreed Umbridge. "I will visit Hogwarts myself and see if I cannot find a solution to this problem before this new set of questions reaches a broader audience."

The Minister sighed contentedly. "I knew you'd know what to do, Dolores. You always do."

"Now, if you would be so kind as to authorize this Portkey to the Hogwarts dungeons, I'll be on my way."

The Minister took another sip of tea and blinked heavily. "Yes, of course. Anything you like." He tapped his wand shakily on Dolores's crystal inkwell. "Have a good trip. And don't let that prat Snape talk down to you."

"I don't think you need to worry about that," said Dolores, seizing the inkwell. "Have a restful evening."

Umbridge disappeared in a swirl of light.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Severus Snape was in the middle of grading fourth-year essays when the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic was deposited unceremoniously at his feet.

He glanced down his nose at her as she regained her equilibrium.

"Undersecretary Umbridge. Be so kind as to enlighten me as to what you are doing in my classroom."

"Don't take that tone with me, Snape!" she growled. "I've had enough of your superior airs. What the hell has been going on here?"

He arched an eyebrow at her. "I haven't the pleasure of understanding you."

"The defloristees, of course!"

"The lambs to the slaughter? What about them?"

Dolores crossed her arms. "I thought perhaps you could tell me."

"I haven't a thing to tell you," he said. "I have personally counseled four of my Slytherins that it's really for the best."

"You mean that you don't know what that Granger brat is up to?"

"Granger?" Snape smiled thoughtfully. "She's taken on the Department of Deflorestation?"

"Who else would have the brains to hide the defloristees where we can't trace them?"

"I see. And the Headmistress is pleading plausible deniability."

"We've been monitoring her Floo day and night. There's no concrete sign of resistance."

"How difficult for you," commented Snape blandly. "I suppose it's a foregone conclusion that you expect me to investigate on your behalf."

The Undersecreatry smiled at last. "Not if you can name someone else who's keeping you out of Azkaban."

"Really, Dolores. One might think you have an axe to grind."

"Order of Merlin or not, Granger cannot oppose the Ministry so cavalierly."

"I don't think she's being at all cavalier," commented Snape with an amused smirk. "I'm sure she's thought long and hard about it."

"Just get me my answers, Snape," she said through clenched teeth. "And I'll see that Magical Law Enforcement stays off your case for a few more months."

"With such enticement, how can I refuse?"

The Undersecretary's face hardened. "I'll expect a report in three days. See that you have something useful to put into it."

She seized the crystal inkwell and disappeared.

Severus Snape sighed in annoyance and threw a handful of dust into his fire.

"Minerva?" he called. "We need to talk."

The Headmistress's head slid in from the side of the fireplace. She was grinning broadly. "I heard every word. Did she honestly think she could Portkey in here without my knowing? You were marvelous, Severus. It is so good of you to play the double-agent for us again. I haven't had this much fun hoodwinking the Ministry since the Triwizard Tournament of 1932."

"Please tell me you haven't any idea what she's talking about."

Her face became impassive. "What would I know about Miss Granger's activities in the Library?"

"Obviously more than I do, since that foul woman never mentioned the Library."

"Ah."

"'Ah,' indeed," said Snape disapprovingly. "So now we're all under Ministry scrutiny thanks to the rash actions of some petulant teenagers."

"They're hardly children anymore, Severus," chided the Headmistress, not unkindly. "I for one applaud their ingenuity and independence in the face of this utter nonsense."

"Then you know what the girl is up to!"

"Not remotely," said the McGonagall with no small amount of smugness. "Though I suspect Filius might be able to give you a clue if you want to know what kind of magic the students can perform without using their wands. If you want a bone to throw to Dolores, I suggest you install yourself in the Library and wait."

Severus frowned. "Am I never to cease babysitting these infernal brats?"

"Cheer up, Severus," said the Headmistress with a fond smile. "This one may surprise you. I am looking forward to your report immensely." She started whistling an infernally catchy tune and disappeared into the fire.

Severus strode to his quarters and poured himself a generous glass of Scotch.

"Here's to you, Miss Granger," he said, holding the tumbler aloft. "And the devil take your brilliant ideas."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

If Severus Snape had to choose a room in Howgarts in which to have a stakeout, it would have been the Library. In spite of this, he was bored out of his skull. There was no sign of Miss Granger, and his patience was wearing thin. He had been lying in wait in an unlit alcove since shortly after supper, and he had already burned through two short novels and a beginner's guide to silver smithing. It was ten minutes until curfew, and the library was so still that he could hear the hissing of the wall torches.

The sound of the great Library doors opening made him start, and it was followed by a flurry of footsteps and whispering voices. They were too far away to be entirely understood, but they were drawing nearer. At last, they passed the aisle in which he stood hidden.

Eureka. Granger, one Hufflepuff, two Ravenclaws, and, indignity of indignities, two of his Slytherins. Her face looked different in the dim light- sharper somehow. Her body was tensed, as if sensing her surroundings. She held the lantern in her right hand, and he was surprised to see an unsheathed sword in her left. What on earth was Granger playing at?

He silently emerged from his hiding place and followed just outside the warm glow of Granger's lantern. He followed them in silence through the stacks, past the Restricted Section, past the Potions books and the Transfiguration tomes, until at last, they came to stop at the end of an aisle of arcane Charms texts. Severus crept down the adjacent row so he could hear them better. He peered through the small space between the top of the books and the next shelf up.

"All right, this is it," he heard Granger say. "Does anybody have any questions?"

The Hufflepuff raised his hand hesitantly. "What if we say it wrong?"

The girl smiled at him. "Then nothing will happen and you'll try it again. Don't worry, you'll do fine. I'll demonstrate and wait for you inside. Do you all have your copies of Hogwarts: An Art History?"

The students nodded.

"Good. Then no matter what happens, you'll be able to find your way. I'll go first.

As children learn in school to open doors
With passwords or intimidating glares
So we stand forth to enter into yours
Not naming Muggle sweets or tick'ling pears.

The entrance that we seek is not a door
Through which another room is accessed, no-
We seek to visit those from days of yore,
And those to left above and right below.

For kindness we are loath to even ask
Safe passage we will have no guarantee
And yet we gladly shoulder this dire task
That in this place we should find liberty.

For as a windowpane admits the sun,
Shall this thin frame deny the hopes of none."

To Severus's shock, Granger disappeared.

The other children didn't seem terribly surprised. In fact, they were crowded at the end of the aisle, whispering excitingly.

With varying degrees of confidence, each of the children recited the mediocre sonnet, and each of them disappeared in turn. The last, one of his Slytherin fourth years, read haltingly enough that she had to start over. When she disappeared, the parchment from which she had been reading fluttered to the floor.

After listening for a minute or so to make sure he would not be detected, Snape crept to the end of their aisle and retrieved the fallen parchment. He studied the lines in silence for a few minutes before he realized what the poem was. He swore loudly. It was brilliant. She was brilliant, the insolent brat.

He examined the portrait at the end of the aisle. It contained some historic personage or another casting a flashy spell of some sort. Granger and her ducklings were nowhere to be seen; they must have moved on. While the portraits would be safe enough, there were a number of paintings that he would never dare to enter, and he doubted that Granger had the knowledge or strength to be truly safe in a network connected to them. It had always been his responsibility to pluck ungrateful students from danger they didn't comprehend, and this was no exception. He steeled himself and began to read her poem aloud.