Magic and Mystery

Chapter 10: A Series of Important Meetings

“Mr. Dazai.” Snape spoke clearly, despite the growl underneath his words. “We need to have a talk.”

Only one day in and he’s already in trouble. Figures. Dazai pasted on an empty smile. “Yes, sir?”

Staring down at him with an odd, sharp expression to his face, Snape looked the image of annoyance. The professor stuck his chin out. “I think you’d prefer we discuss this in the privacy of my classroom. Come along.”

Dazai shrugged, following Snape back into the classroom whilst mentally going over everything he’d done in class today. “Is this about asking an ‘idiotic question,’ sir?” He should learn to keep his mouth shut, honestly. Even back home when he’s beaten and bloody, there’s a voice in the back of Dazai’s head that begs to instigate further. He’s usually good at shutting up and following orders, but he hadn’t pegged anyone in potions as a threat enough for such precautions.

Professor Snape spun on his heels until he was facing his student once again. He took in a deep breath as if preparing to say something horribly taxing.

“How is your arm?”

“What?” The startled interjection was out of his mouth before Dazai even registered it.

“Your arm, boy. The one you so foolishly decided to cut into at Diagon Alley.”

Dazai felt his hand unconsciously move to rub at where the cut had been. With how long the Hogwarts’ robes were, even the edges of his bandages were barely visible. “Fine.” He replied almost hesitantly, “Dr. Mori took care of it.”  Well, Mori knew about it at least. 

Snape’s eyes thinned, thought Dazai wasn’t sure what that particular expression was supposed to mean. “I’ll be the judge of that. Give it here.” When Dazai didn’t make to hand his arm over, Snape’s thin lips grew taught. “Perhaps my previous attempts at healing that injury failed, but that doesn’t mean I trust muggle methods for healing. Especially...” Snape’s eyes rolled over those bandages again like he was seeing something more. He cleared his throat. “See Madam Pomfrey for it at the very least.”

“Who?”

“The Hogwarts matron.”

Sighing, Dazai let his posture deflate a bit. “Ah, there’s no use in arguing, right?”

In return, Snape gave a glare that very clearly spelled out this order was not up for debate. Dazai’s gaze wandered under the pressure before eventually landing on Snape’s stock of potion ingredients by the far-wall. Some of those were bound to be poisonous, right? Maybe something to stop his heart or melt his brain—

“Further,” Snape continued. He waited a few seconds until Dazai’s eyes were back on him. “Your outburst in class today is unacceptable.”

It was about that, I was right. With a smirk, Dazai deadpanned, “I’m not even allowed to ask questions in class, huh.”

“Questions  are permitted,” Snape ground out, “ideations of murder are not.”

Murder? Dazai supposed a potion that could kill his enemies would be helpful—he wondered if it was traceable through modern forensic technology. It was an interesting idea, but Dazai waved off the concern with a bandaged hand. “I was just curious. Anyway, if we aren’t going to brew it, then that’s that.”

Actually, he’d been thinking about a new suicide method via instant death potion, but Dazai wasn’t sure how he felt about Snape having that information on him. It wasn’t like he expected the professor to be concerned or anything, but something about the way Snape watched him now gave him pause. Dazai held his tongue on the matter of self-poisoning and pursued less honest endeavors such as: running away.