Snape in the Magic City

Chapter Three

The Bat Lick Elementary School got out at three o'clock. Daisy and Priscilla saw the children off and then started on their own way home, waving goodbye to the Quodpot crew, who were just finishing up their work. The crew captain and two of the wizards were up on their brooms, passing a Quod back and forth as they sped towards the far cauldron, and two other witches were painting the team's name on the front of the stands. BAT LICK BLAZER was scrolled in bright orange across the white background, and as Daisy watched, one of the painters waved her wand and a fiery S curved up from the downstroke of the R.

"I hope that's a practice Quod," said Priscilla.

No sooner were the words out of her mouth than with a loud POP! the Quod exploded. Scraps of leather flew in every direction. One hit a painter-witch in the back of the head, causing her to drop her wand, which immediately began shooting fiery letters into the bleachers.

Daisy had ducked at the moment the Quod had exploded. She straightened up now to see with relief that Priscilla had not been hit. But her relief changed to alarm when Priscilla set off across the field towards the wizard who had caught the Quod just before it exploded. The young man lay sprawled on his back in the grass, his broom hovering, quivering, not a foot away from him.

Daisy hurried after Priscilla, relief flooding her again as the wizard reached up with one hand and removed a large scrap of leather from his face.

"Are you all right, Bo?" the crew captain asked as she jumped from her broom and slid to her knees beside the prostrate figure.

Two eyes peered up at her out of a face scarlet either with embarrassment or perhaps from the impact of the Quod.

"I'm fine," said the wizard; and he grinned sheepishly.

"You're fine!" Priscilla looked neither alarmed nor relieved. "What about the rest of us?" she demanded. "What about every Muggle who must've heard that Quod explode?"

"They'll think it's a hunter shooting a possum?" The crew captain's grin was anything but sheepish. "Come on, Bo, let's see if you can get up. I've got to go see how Alice is."

The crew captain put out her hand and grasped the one Bo held up to her. The wizard who had been flying with them stepped forward and took Bo's other hand. Together they pulled the young man to his feet. The captain peered closely at him for a moment; then she said, "You're OK," and set off towards the stands, where the two painters were sitting, one examining the back of the other's head.

Daisy looked at Bo, who was gingerly feeling his face as if to make sure every feature was still there. His skin still looked a bit pink to Daisy; but that could have been his normal complexion, she thought, or sunburn from working out here all day.

"Do you want to come inside?" she asked him.

Priscilla made a sound of impatience, but Bo just grinned again.

"I want a drink," he said. "Does that place where we ate lunch serve bourbon?"

Priscilla repeated her wordless comment.

Daisy smiled at both wizards. "The Fly does," she said.

"The Fly?" Both men looked as intrigued as boys, Daisy thought. Squicked, and delighted. Priscilla, on the other hand, looked just like a teacher.

Daisy felt her own lips twitch. "The Fly On Inn," she said.

Bo grinned outright. "Can we?"

"You can't," Priscilla replied, as if he were one of her students. "Come on. Let's see if you can walk that far."

She quirked her eyebrow at the other wizard.

He appeared to understand the look. "Come on, Bo," he said. He placed a hand under Bo's elbow. "Lead on, ladies."

* * * *

The Fly On Inn was wizard-owned but Muggle-operated. This meant that it served bourbon as well as imported firewhiskies; it also meant that there were a jukebox and a telephone.

Priscilla had stopped by the Fly after school on Thursday to phone her parents. She had dialed their number, but had gotten only a message saying their phone was out of order because of the storm. She had tried their other number with no better results, and had not been able to reach her brother either. She had told Daisy she guessed she'd have to drop by the Fly again this afternoon. Daisy thought that despite her attitude towards Bo and his accident Priscilla was really glad to have two male escorts this time.

Daisy and Priscilla were not regulars at the Fly. Few witches were, but more came on nights when a live band was booked and the dancing tended not to degenerate into brawling or debauchery.

At this early hour, even on a Friday, the place looked quite respectable. The bar was doing a good trade in beer and munchies, and the jukebox was standing solidly with no help from any of the customers. The brooms and rakes in the entry were propped in a neat row against the wall, flanking a plow that had oak handgrips and a gleaming, well-honed blade.

"Wow!"

"Whose is that?"

Bo and his buddy paused to admire the plow. Daisy saw Priscilla's cheeks flush; the two men must have noticed as well, for with one more admiring glance at the plow they went on inside.

But a tall, curly-haired wizard was sitting at the far end of the bar, pewter mug in hand; and Daisy did not think Priscilla chose the table nearest the door just because it was also nearest the phone. Of course, sitting at this particular table meant less sawdust from the floor clinging to the hem of one's robes, but Priscilla had the most effective way of muttering "Amoveo!" that Daisy had ever heard.

The four of them seated themselves; and after a meaningful glance from Priscilla, Daisy got up again and went to the bar to order the drinks. A delivery wizard was on the phone, apparently trying to sort out directions--or a relationship--and the second rule posted on the board behind the bar stated plainly, You Wait--You Drink.

Daisy ordered two light Briarbeers and two bourbons and went back to the table without so much as a glance towards the far end of the bar. She lowered the tray of glasses onto the table and, pocketing her wand, sat down, while Priscilla and the two wizards counted out coins and stacked them in front of her.

Bo reached for his glass and held it up. "Ladies," he said--and at the same moment the delivery wizard snarled, "Oh, I've got it, all right!" and banged the receiver back onto the hook.

Priscilla got up with a look that didn't need words, and headed for the telephone. As she went she drew her wand from her robes, and for a moment Daisy wasn't sure whether she meant to clean the receiver or jinx the delivery wizard.

Daisy turned back to Bo and his crewmate and lifted her glass of Briarbeer. "Gentlemen," she said, and smiled. And thought, Oh, honestly, guys, you two are young enough to be my . . . kid brothers!

* * * *

Daisy and Priscilla were home by four-thirty, later than usual but well before suppertime. Priscilla had not wanted to stay at the Fly once she had made her phone calls, and since the crew captain had arrived with Alice, Daisy did not feel she and Priscilla were abandoning the two wizards in unfamiliar surroundings. Indeed Bo, and Hoyt, the other crew wizard, had seemed more at home in the Fly than Daisy had ever felt there. And when their captain and Alice showed up, Daisy figured she and Priscilla had fulfilled their obligations as hostesses.

The two friends had walked home together. Priscilla had again been unable to reach her parents, whose house telephone was evidently still not working and whose "cell phone"--whatever that was--had not been "recharged" before the "power" had gone out.

This last bit of information Priscilla had from her brother, whose cell phone was--as usual, Priscilla said--"up and running."

So was Richard. He had been to their parents' house, had taken them a cooler and some ice, and was trying to get them a generator. No, no trees had fallen on the house. No power lines were down in the yard. Mother and Dad were fine, just a little stressed out. They did not want to go stay with Richard and his family. Priscilla did not need to come down.

"You know what means, of course," Priscilla had told Daisy as they walked home.

Daisy had nodded. She might know very little about Muggles, but parents were parents.

"It means Dad's not sleeping and Mother hasn't stopped trying to get him to eat. Only she can't cook, because she can't use the stove or the microwave. If Richard can get them a generator they can plug the refrigerator in, but Mother's awfully picky about food kept in a cooler."

Daisy had nodded again. She'd thought about walking slower as Priscilla talked faster, but she knew from experience that Priscilla's mind wouldn't stop racing until they were in Birmingham with her parents.

And Daisy's cousin.

Now Priscilla was in the kitchen, baking. She had said she wanted to listen to the radio, to hear the latest news about the hurricane cleanup in Alabama. But Daisy knew she just wanted to be busy doing something.

Daisy herself had changed into an old set of robes and gone back outside to prune the Alihotsy that grew by the front steps.

The Alihotsy didn't really need pruning, but like Priscilla Daisy needed something to do while she waited for her cousin to arrive. She had no doubt that he would arrive. Severus Snape was not the nicest person in the world: as a child he had been a downright Knarzle and according to the family pumpkinvine he had not improved much with age. But he was family, and blood was thicker than--well--than pumpkin juice. And Scotland was a long, long way from Bat Lick, Kentucky; and Apparating over great distances was unreliable even for highly skilled wizards like Severus.

So Daisy had come outside to wait for him. And to prune the Alihotsy, so that when he arrived he would not think she had been out here waiting for him.

She had half expected to see him waiting for her and Priscilla, sitting in the porch swing when they got home from school. That was what people did in Bat Lick when they came to visit someone and found them away from home but a note by the door saying, Gone into town. Back any minute. If the note said Picking apples instead, or Milking, or Gone fishing, the visitor would come to the orchard or the barn or the river to offer help or just so they and you could have the pleasure of each other's company that much longer.

Daisy had never found that much pleasure in her cousin's company. He could be just as sarcastic and brusque as Priscilla, and he never counteracted these moods with the silliness that occasionally struck Priscilla, nor with the mischievousness Daisy's other male cousins often manifested now as when they had all been children. She had never seen him drunk, either--which distinguished him favorably from some of the Brightsmith men--but she would have preferred the occasional drinking bout to Severus's perpetual . . . whatever it was. "He's just uptight," Daisy's mother had always said. Daisy's father had put it more bluntly: "He's got his wand up his ass."

But he was the only person Daisy had felt she could ask to help Priscilla's family. Her Brightsmith relatives were all either young, married, and busy with kids and/or careers; middle-aged and busy with careers and/or grandchildren; or too old to travel long distances to try and deal with Muggle catastrophes. Uncle Emrys did live within a hundred or so miles of Birmingham, but as a member of his local WAND he was still in south Florida helping victims of Ivan's last predecessor.

As for her mother's side of the family, which included Snapes as well as Scamanders, Daisy knew even better than Priscilla how much use most of those pure-bloods would be in a houseful of Muggles. Daisy was, after all, half Scamander herself. And the Pratens had never even met a witch or wizard until Priscilla had received her letter from Horndrake Hall School of Magic. Among the Pratens people wrote letters to schools applying for admission. You didn't get a letter literally from out of the blue from a school you didn't know existed, especially such a letter hand-delivered by a party of people like none you or your parents had ever seen outside the pages of a Muggle book of fairytales.

Daisy could not imagine anyone sending Severus Snape to tell Muggle parents their child had been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. But he did teach Muggle-borns there, as well as half-bloods and pure-bloods. He knew better than to drop in on a teacher in the middle of a school day. And if a situation called for someone who could help a couple of middle-aged Muggles without being obvious about it; who was a master of deception as well as of potions; there was not a better person for the job than--

"If that's Herbifolia prisca it should be pruned under a waning moon," said a voice behind her. Daisy jumped, and whirled around, to see a tall dark man in a long black traveling cloak standing not ten feet from her.

"Severus!" She didn't know whether to hug him in welcome or hex him for scaring her. She smiled and took a step towards him; but stopped at the look he gave her, a look such as Priscilla might give an over-eager Crup puppy. Daisy clenched her fingers tightly around her wand, and turning back to the Alihotsy said, "This is just plain old H. appalachiana. It doesn't care when it gets pruned."

"And a good thing, too," Severus replied. "Where's the toilet?"

"It's this way." She started up the front steps.

"Just show me."

His tone was more caustic than spurge sap, and caused her cheeks to redden with a different irritation.

"It's pink." Daisy pictured the bathroom as she spoke. "Pink tiles, pink tub, pink--"

Severus gave a curt nod, and Disapparated.

* * * *

"I wish I were a Legilimens," Daisy told Priscilla, whom she found in the kitchen making tea.

"I don't." Priscilla pointed her wand at the kettle, which had just begun to whistle. The kettle rose from the stove and drifted towards the teapot that waited on the counter.

"I should have directed him to your bathroom," Daisy went on, watching the steaming water cascade from the kettle's spout into the teapot. "The sink in mine is full of oak galls."

"Oh, Daisy!" Priscilla sounded nearly as exasperated as Severus. "You promised you wouldn't mix any more potions in any of the sinks!"

"This isn't a potion. I'm just soaking some oak galls so the students will have something besides pokeberry ink to write with. You're the one who gets so tired of grading papers written in red-violet."

"Violet-red," Priscilla sighed. She looked as if she were about to say something more, but at that moment there was a distant gurgle and rush of water through plumbing; and Severus appeared in the kitchen doorway.

He fixed Daisy with his dark eyes. "If you add those nails to the oak galls now," he said, "you'll have ink by the time you return from Birmingham."

Daisy beamed at him. Priscilla said, "It's nice to see you, too, Severus." She sent the kettle back to the stove. "Come and sit down now, both of y'all, before the tea gets cold."

Severus raised an eyebrow, suddenly looking to Daisy like a taller Priscilla, with a five o'clock shadow. "Tea?" he said. "We're not Apparating straight on to Birmingham?"

"Not until you learn how to pronounce it." Priscilla spoke as she might have to one of her students. "Birming'mm is in England. Birmingham is in Alabama. And I'm not Apparating anywhere until I've had a cup of tea and a brownie."

Severus appeared to suppress a shudder, which Priscilla seemed not to notice. She sent the teapot to the kitchen table, where cups and saucers waited with her mother's sugar bowl and cream pitcher and a plateful of pecan brownies. She lowered the teapot onto a hotpad, and seated herself, arranging her robes around her as if she were playing hostess to Muggle royalty, or at least the British Minister for Magic.

Daisy turned from Priscilla to Severus. "I guess we better eat something," she told him. "No telling what we'll get when we get to Birmingham."

Severus replied with a look that took her back to their childhood. Then he took off his traveling cloak, revealing an outfit similar to the clothes she'd seen on Muggle dads at Quodpot games, and took a seat directly across the table from Priscilla.

* * * *

"There's a small wizarding community at a place called Creek Rise," Priscilla told Severus. "It's just a couple of miles from my parents' house. There's a wonderful old building there that the Muggles think is an abandoned general store. But it was one of the first magically built stores in the area, back when white wizards first settled there."

Priscilla grimaced as she said these last words. Daisy saw Severus notice. But all he said was, "It's still open, then?"

"I hope so! The restaurant served redeye gravy." For a moment Priscilla looked and sounded almost dreamy.

"A local delicacy?" Severus asked, looking as if he wondered whose the red eyes were, and how they were extracted.

"Mm-hmm." Priscilla bit into a brownie as if it contained red eyes as well as pecans. "There's nothing like country ham and biscuits with redeye gravy for breakfast on a cold morning."

"And the average morning temperature in Alabama in September is . . .?" Severus's gaze shifted from Priscilla to Daisy.

Priscilla made a small sound of amusement. "You can take the teacher out of the school," she murmured, "but not out of the teacher."

Severus's gaze, directed at Daisy, went suddenly flat black.

A moment before, his eyes had sparked with interest in the conversation. Now they were as cold and empty as a snake's. Despite the warmth of the tea and the kitchen, Daisy shivered. "Yes," she said, as quietly as if a pit viper had slipped into the room. "Once a teacher, always a teacher."

Severus blinked, and looked away. Daisy drew a deep, shaky breath. Priscilla picked up her cup and took a sip of tea.

Across the table from her, Severus reached out to the platter and with a fingernail pried a pecan-half from the top of a brownie. "Bit dodgy," he said, "Apparating into a store neither of you has seen in more than two years. What if they've shifted all the jam and honey pots to what used to be the great empty space between the marrows and the watermelons?"

"'Cleanup on aisle four!'" Priscilla laughed.

Severus stared at her.

Priscilla stopped laughing, and bit her lip. Then she picked up her teacup again and drained it.

Daisy thought, I've got to tell her something about Severus's "second job." What, exactly, I don't know. But--

Priscilla pushed her chair back from the table and stood up.

Severus did the same.

Was he being polite? Daisy wondered--or just in a hurry to get going? He was, as Priscilla had so bluntly observed, a teacher; they all had to be back at school on Monday.

"I'm going to go brush my teeth and change my clothes," Priscilla said, "and then I'll be ready to go. Are you all packed, Daisy?"

Daisy sighed, and got up from her chair. "It won't take me a minute." If that long, she added to herself. She might not have any skills when it came to magical-Muggle relations, but she could pack a suitcase. "I guess I better put on some Muggle clothes, too," she said.

"Excuse us, Severus." Priscilla sounded perfectly composed now. "Just make yourself at home."

He nodded, and with a tiny movement of his wrist his wand slipped out of his shirtsleeve and into his hand. Daisy knew that by "make yourself at home" Priscilla meant "go sit down in the living room and put your feet up," but Severus evidently interpreted her words differently. He gave his wand a small wave, and the teacups and saucers and things rose from the table and began to make their way towards the sink.

"Thanks, Cuz," Daisy smiled at him.

He lifted an eyebrow in reply, and with another wave of his wand, muttered, "Accio brownie!"

"We'll be ready to leave shortly," Daisy said. "Did you bring your toothbrush?"

Severus gave her a look; and jerked his head towards his traveling cloak, draped over the back of the fourth kitchen chair.

"I guess you'll have to use the kitchen sink, then--I don't want any toothpaste on my oak galls."

Or anything else, Daisy thought; and seeing Severus's wand quiver, she Disapparated.