gingerbred (gingerbred) wrote,
gingerbred
gingerbred

Day 21

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I say, that is quite a bit of gold, Filius says in a hushed tone, taking it in.

That it is, Severus rejoins. He sounds thoughtful.

'I don't think you need to worry. See? There's no crimson,' a certain ginger tries to reassure him.

While I... appreciate your concern, I wasn't 'worried', he smiles. I was thinking if everything were to go pear shaped, we could always grab the ingot and Disapparate.

'Not in Hogwarts!' She almost sounds scandalised, probably because the very thought he hasn't read and memorised 'Hogwarts: a History' (in which that's ever so clearly explained) strikes her as very scandalous indeed. 'At least not as long as you aren't Headmaster,' she amends. There's something odd about the way she says it that has him examine her more closely. 'Of course it you were, you wouldn't. Headmaster. Disapparate. Cut and run. Well not unless challenged and faced with...' Now he's giving her a very strange look - not unwarranted - and she just winds to a stop. 'Never mind. Pretend I didn't say anything. I assume you were being facetious anyway.'

Hmm. The brow lifts, and the Knut drops.

'Oh. Ah. Right. Not entirely facetious.

'Well as plans go, there are worse...' she concedes.

I should think so. He seems ever so slightly offended, his gaze ticking to a small disgrace of Gryffindors nearby. She can see his point. Goodness knows, those three have come up with some perfectly wretched plans over the years. Or will do, whichever.

'Oh I didn't mean to imply... Shall we simply get to building?'

I think we'd best. He's positively smirking now. After you. He waits for her to go ahead of him, his hand slipping - almost incidentally, the sneaky Snake - to the small of her back as she draws abreast. And if she was mindful to pass on his left, so as not to impede his wand arm and improve the chances, well, no one can fault her for being observant, now can they? It doesn't hurt, obviously, that she wields her wand with her left. The fingers of her right hand subtly trace an angular 'P' on his trouser leg as they walk, the rune Wunjo, reassuringly conveying comfort and her pleasure, or at least it would if he's better educated in Ancient Runes than he seems to be in the history of the castle anyway. His broadening smirk as he steers her gently towards the golden pieces on the floor would suggest that he is.

She tries, with modest success, to nibble back her smile, but her expression when she next addresses the Head of Ravenclaw is undeniably a hint warmer than usual. Filius returns the smile with some amusement, rarely surprised by anything anymore, a decided advantage of age and experience.

'Professor Flitwick, would you like to help us put it together?'

I'd love to, my dear. Just love to.

I swear that's Albus' beard. Severus says, taking a piece in hand. With the Midas treatment, but still. Clearly recognisable.

What's that they say? 'Everything old is new again.'

Or his tastes are that outdated. Whichever seems more likely.

Filius smiles kindly at that. You are incorrigible, my boy. Simply incorrigible.

I try, he replies wryly. Privately, the DADA apprentice is sure: he really doesn't; it comes all too naturally.

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Ah, well here we are.

What's the... object? Severus waves a hand idly, indicating the leftover pieces forming... Well she has no idea what they're forming really. That was sort of his point.

I believe the problem is a question of scale. I suspect that's meant to be a micro representation of the castle.

'Oh. Uh. Alright.' She's clearly not seeing it.

Smaller than micro. A nanobuild at best.

I imagine smaller than that. But there's nothing wrong with being small.

'Professor, I'm sure Severus didn't mean to suggest there was.'

In the case specific, Ginger, I wouldn't be to sure of that. You didn't recognise it as the castle either. Too small, too abstracted. In some instances, size matters... She chokes, eyes widening, and he pauses fractionally, a faint smirk the only indication he'd heard. ...If only for the detail it can convey.

Subtlety. So not her strong suit. A fact made all the more obvious when she has to swallow before answering, which only has him smirking more.

Arse.

'But once properly assembled, the context helps us interpret it correctly,' she counters, doing her best to pretend she weren't a disgrace to her Slytherin jumper. Thankfully, the others are kind enough to play along, and the moment passes.

I suppose he should be holding the model... Filius suggests. Which, now that he says so, makes perfect sense, really. That's what hands are for, after all. Well... Yes. She has no idea why that hadn't occurred to her on her own. Presumably the season has her a little distracted, to say nothing of recent events.

With a flick and a swish, he guides it into place. And there we are, the Hogwarts architect.

The problem here is one House is always towards the rear.

'Which way should he face?'

Well which House was he? Sybill asks, not entirely unhelpfully, but perhaps she hadn't thought her question through all that well.

You realise this is the architect of Hogwarts? She nods, only slightly sherry addled at this hour. There were no Houses prior to Hogwarts, ergo, he has no House, and no House can claim him.

Sybill is so used to his disdain, she doesn't even bother looking chagrined. On the contrary, she holds the Potions Master in so little regard as to render his opinion nearly moot. She merely takes a long pull from her glass and turns her back on him, which flummoxes Severus not the least, having a similar opinion of the 'Seer' as she does of him.

In a perfect world, he'd be on a pivoting mount and turn, Minerva weighs in, approaching, steaming cup of tea in hand.

'In a perfect world, the House crests would turn and he'd remain facing front. Perhaps to show which House has the most points?' Minerva recognises the utility of the suggestion and nods appreciatively in agreement. It's all too easy with the apprentices sometimes to see them more as students than colleagues, and the young woman beside her is very nearly finished with her studies. It would probably do to remember that about her.

No, in a perfect world, Slytherin would constantly face front. Minerva snorts, tea shooting uncomfortably up her nose. Filius could swear that some days Severus lives only to get under the witch's skin. He certainly behaves that way at any rate, if that can be called 'behaving' that is. The timing of his remark had definitely been suspicious. If only because in a truly perfect world, Slytherin would always be ahead, he concludes smugly, while Minerva unobtrusively Tergeos her sinuses with some annoyance. He draws his wand and sets the statue of the Architect on its pedestal, the Slytherin crest facing the room. With the way the pedestal had been built, this leaves the Gryffindor crest facing the wall.

Minerva rectifies that almost immediately, twitching her wand and moving to Banish her tea, thirst forgotten. Filius Summons the cup en route, plucking it casually from midair and warms his hands on it. Before he can take so much as a sip, the pedestal has been turned back to front beneath the statue and Minerva stands there huffing in satisfaction. Their little contretemps won't keep the Ravenclaw from enjoying his purloined beverage; he has far too many years as a teacher under his belt for that. He simply steps back out of their way to better observe. Well, that and to avoid friendly wandfire. There are reasons he was placed in Ravenclaw all those years ago.

Severus has no intention of standing for Minerva's manoeuvre and flicks his wand once more, and in a trice the green tile is again front and centre.

And back and forth they go for a little while. Gryffindor. Slytherin. Gryffindor. Slytherin. Gryffindor. Slytherin...

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'They're surprisingly easy to keep occupied,' a certain ginger whispers to the Charmsmaster.

Would the same were true of the children in their respective Houses, Filius replies with a wink.
Tags: adventskalender, harry potter, hogwarts, holidays, lego, mini filius, mini min, mini snape, mini sybill, minifigs, ms bred
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