His lips tighten into the thinnest of lines and he says nothing. The moment stretches uncomfortably, silence reigns.
'Well, at least you were proven right.'
He just glares.
'I know: there was never any question,' she volunteers hopefully, and still he doesn't bite. Not even a nibble, more's the pity.
'Given Potter was part of the set, it was probably only to be expected.'
That earns her a baleful look.
If you'll recall, I did not fail to expect it, I merely disagree with their priorities. Utterly and completely. Their selection, the curation of this collection of... gormless miscreants is beyond the pale.
'I suspect Professor McGonagall might have a thing or two to say about that.'
She invariably does, the simple fact of which doesn't remotely affect the veracity of the statement.
'Still, it seems unduly harsh...'
At which point an as yet unnamed ginger cries Turkey!, reaches across the table, and filches a certain other ginger's drumstick.
Still feel I was 'unduly harsh'? Hmm?
A now familiar flash of viridian hits the boy and soon he's exhibiting the effects last seen on the Boy-Who-Lived-to-Irk. Unsurprisingly, that spurs him to object. Vociferously.
Oi! Whaddaya think you're doing?! You can't just...
'Put a sock in it Weasley,' she interrupts, snatching her turkey leg from his grubby mitts.
Severus flicks his wand again, and the boy falls silent. Unfortunately it doesn't stop his arms from pinwheeling, and shortly he begins to wobble ominously until he's overset, tumbling to the floor with a resounding thud. The collapse, rather predictably, is accompanied by neither cries of pain nor indignation.
And that, Ms. Bred, is a Langlock. Truly, sometimes you make me wonder, are you witch or not?
You're one to speak, Severus. I see the table is still more suited to Firsties than staff.
And what have you done with Mr. Weasley?
Rendered him more... agreeable.
A certain ginger is inclined to agree.
We still don't hex the children.
Clearly *I* do.
It's the holidays, Minerva, and I find myself stuck in a castle full of recalcitrant children. Personally I think I've exhibited remarkable restraint thus far.
Well could you... unrender him?
I could, I choose not to. Why do people keep assuming I cast spells only to secretly wish to perform the countercharms? I can assure you, I do not.
Have Potter fetch him off to the dorms. It will wear off soon enough.
I swear, sometimes I think you're more childish than the children.
Mr. Potter! A word, if you please.
And while she's busy explaining the situation and the actions required of him to Harry, a certain ginger leans in close to a wiry Potions Master to whisper, 'What is your definition of 'soon'?'
A week at the latest, he chuckles.