#6 - Detention

Professor Snape opened his office door rather abruptly while Arthur was in mid-knock. His expression was emotionless, yet a sense of displeasure was evident.

'Follow me.' Snape briskly walked to the Potions classroom, throwing open the door with a flick of his wand as to not slow his momentum. 'As you have forgotten the proper and most basic practice of cleaning a cauldron, your detention shall be spent becoming reacquainted.'

It was a rather dread-inducing sight that awaited Arthur. On one of the counters were three cauldrons - and upon closer inspection, though such closeness was hardly necessary, the insides looked as if something rather foul had exploded within. There were general cleaning supplies nearby, such as rags and soap. It wasn't optimistic that a particularly strong scrubbing brush was also provided.

'Begin,' Snape sneered. 'I shall inspect each cauldron before you may proceed to the next. Let us hope you have the sense to dedicate yourself to the task, as to avoid further wasting my time with your ineptitude.' 

There was no mistaking that his worst-than-usual mood remained from that afternoon.

Professor Snape eyed Arthur suspiciously. He could see through the boy's pretense, of course, but it was no less strange to receive that reaction rather than be met with insolent groans and protests. Not that every was brave or foolish enough to voice such thoughts, but so rarely did a student just accept their task.

He had other things to focus on though. Snape perused some of the jars on the walls, only diverting his attention when the classroom doorway became occupied. Professor Hathmore entered, giving Arthur a surprised look, then headed to the front of the room where Snape stood.

The Professors spoke in low, important tones - words or clues of which Arthur was unable to decipher. Hathmore handed Snape a leather-bound book with some sort of crest on the front, then a copy of what appeared to be a very old letter.

Both Professors glanced over when Arthur sneezed, as if the sudden noise was a reminder that they weren't alone. Hathmore put his wand away, hinting that perhaps Arthur's lack of eavesdropping ability was for a more magical reason.

'And what have you done to incur such a punishment, Mr Hocking?' Hathmore asked, wandering over to peer into the cauldrons. He grimaced in sympathy, though his stern gaze also implied he had enough faith in Snape's methods to assume there was at least a semi-legitimate reason. It was just an unexpected student to be faced with such consequences.

'You may proceed to the second cauldron,' Snape said. He'd inspected Arthur's efforts with the first cauldron and was satisfied enough with its cleaned state. It appeared that the boy was capable of cleaning cauldrons the proper way after all.

Professor Snape glared at Arthur's neutral description of his transgressions, and thus rectified it by explaining exactly what the boy had done. Any sympathy Hathmore had left for Arthur's predicament vanished. However, mercifully, Hathmore didn't comment further - he could see the boy was learning his lesson enough as it was.

'I should get going. Madam Pince has located the remainder of the maps,' Hathmore said, focused on Snape again though this time Arthur was well within earshot. 'Think about what I said, Severus. Loyalty is a fickle thing these days, even within the walls of Hogwarts itself, but it's not too late.'

'I'm well aware,' Snape said with sourness in his tone.

He glanced at the book while Hathmore left, clearly deep in thought about something far beyond Arthur's understanding. Snape shot a glare at the boy, then returned to the front of the classroom. He set the book aside, and began to carefully peruse the letter as if he expected it to catch fire if he rushed.

The task was tedious and felt to go on forever. His hands were getting numb or sore from all of the scrubbing - what exactly had exploded in these cauldrons to put it in such a stubborn state? After a while though, finally, it seemed to be getting cleaner.

Professor Snape had tucked the old letter away, and resumed peering at various jars lining the dim classroom walls. He made his way over to Arthur to inspect the cauldron, but it wasn't nearly clean enough for the boy to proceed just yet.

He was satisfied that the detention was having its intended impact though, as an exhausting and horrid task such as that often lingered. Perhaps this is what Arthur would think about before he had any foolish ideas about using magic on his cauldron again.

Snape returned to the front of the room. As the door remained open, the sound of voices drifted into Arthur's earshot. He couldn't tell who it was, but it didn't sound like students. They clearly weren't happy with each other and soon went their separate ways. Footsteps approached, and Professor Fairburn hurriedly wandered by the open doorway without even noticing it was occupied.

Snape eyed her as she briskly went by, then returned his attention to the book in hand.

It was at the point in Arthur's task when he could no longer be sure of passing time. Had it really been hours or was he just that sore from the constant scrubbing and cleaning and scrubbing some more? However long or short it had been, Professor Snape was suddenly back by Arthur's workspace. He peered into the cauldron and nodded, indicating to the third and - mercifully - last one.

Actually, there was a pause as Snape considered if the third one was indeed necessary. He hardly liked wasting his time supervising detentions, but also those cauldrons were in especially bad state. Yet Arthur had endangered himself and everyone in that classroom today. Snape had to make absolutely sure the message sank in, as next time the boy might not be so lucky.

Snape glanced at the time and decided to mentally put a limit on the detention though, as he did not wish to have to send Arthur to the Hospital Wing with hand injuries or such. He sought some thick cleaning gloves from a cupboard though, and tossed them to Arthur. He made sure to aim for the boy's face rather than the counter beside him, in case his action appeared to be one of kindness rather than precaution. 

He sat at a nearby counter without saying a word, focused on some notes in front of him. 

Arthur couldn't tell if the third cauldron was worst than the others or if his tedious task had just worn him down so much that it felt worst. Either way, the end of his scrubbing ordeal was not yet in sight.

Whatever had exploded in that cauldron seemed to have conflicting properties because the soap kept turning to dark blue foam when used in continuous scrubs. Then it would turn to white liquid when he stopped. It didn't cause harm or make the scrubbing efforts obsolete, but it was a distraction that made it harder for Arthur to see if the cauldron was getting cleaner.