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Assistant: Title: Coil
        Author: Allegory_for_Hatred Allegory_for_Hatred 
        Chapter: 17/33 
        Summary: Dazai's second year at Hogwarts starts with a bang!Between Mori's latest orders, Snape's investigation, and media-fire coming from all angles, Dazai certianly has his work cut out for him. But he isn't going down without a fight. With a steadily-growing gang of friends (subordinates!) at his back, Dazai might just stand a chance of making it through his second year alive....or maybe not. Honestly, Dazai isn't picky.
        Contents: Chapter 17: Home
    

    

        
          
          
            Some concerns about Dazai's next course of action.
          
        

      
        
          
          (See the end of the chapter for  notes.)
          
      
  

  
  
    
    In the center of the desk, a leather-bound diary sat in perfect stillness. Though it had been handled with excess care, the spine was broken and the pages yellowed. A beam of light caught on it. The book seemed to glow.“...Well?”Dazai blinked out of his silent musings. He turned to Draco, who was watching him with an anxious expression.“Well what?”Draco huffed, then kicked forward until he was just a foot away from the desk. Despite the edge to his whole demeanor, however, Dazai noticed he made a point to not get too close to Ginny’s diary. “What now? Getting the diary is what my father wants from you, right? We’re done now?”“Are you going to have Featherbrain ship that to your boss?” Blaise asked.“Even though we’re pretty sure this is what Lucius wants...” Dazai trailed off with a hum. He leaned forward on a palm, deep in thought. Usually, Dazai wasn’t one to hesitate about conclusions like this. But...Dazai let his senses run over the diary. And although the office was always abuzz with magical energy, the diary seemed to be giving off none of it.Well... that wasn’t entirely accurate. The diary had magic. But it had no more than any random wizard Dazai could pass in the halls might. Compared to the Philosopher’s Stone and the Sensing Stone? This thing barely qualified as magical at all! But it wasn’t the nearly imperceptible magic that was bothering Dazai—nor was it the uncertainty of a job-well-done.What was bothering Dazai was that the diary felt more like a person than an artifact.“Dazai?”“What do you mean pretty sure? I thought we were done!”For the second time in as many minutes, Dazai startled out of his thoughts. This time, Draco’s worry was replaced with irritation.“Ah.” Dazai rolled his shoulders tightly. The muscle clicked. “Our research was solid. Now it’s just a matter of verifying things.”“I’m not sure any of our reputations could handle being blamed for another petrification,” Blaise said. Draco winced at the comment. “Waiting to see if another one happens is risky.”Dazai nodded, eyes flicking to Blaise appreciatively as he spoke. “So we won’t wait around.” He tapped a gloved finger on the book’s peeling cover. There wasn’t really any magic there to nullify... but Dazai wasn’t taking any chances. The gloves would stay on just in case. “Remember what Ginny said the other day? Evidently,” he tapped the book again in point, “this ugly little thing can talk.”Draco reeled back immediately. “You can’t seriously be planning to write in it!”Dazai made a face. He looked to Blaise for support, only to find—“That’s an awful idea, Dazai.”“Wha—” he stuttered. “Aren’t you supposed to be on my side, Blaise? You’re my second! What’s with all this hostility?”“I’m being pragmatic.” Blaise lifted his chin to watch Dazai through pointed eyes. “And you’re doing something recklessly self-sacrificial again. This book corrupted Ginny. It can corrupt you too.”“You think so?” Dazai asked, almost hopeful. “Getting corrupted is kind of like dying, isn’t it?”“She only lost her memories,” Blaise countered.Dazai sighed.Draco scoffed. He stared down at the book, then back to Dazai, derisive. “Writing in the book that made the Weasley girl go nuts is the definition of self-sacrificial. It’s like you want to be its next victim.”Dazai considered this for a moment. Then, he shook his head.“You’re both missing the point,” he said, ignoring the twin looks of disappointment he got in return. “For one: I won’t be using it for no good reason, like Ginny was. Since it's for a job I’ll stay on top of things. Second: it probably used magic to corrupt her. Seeing as I can’t be affected by magic, I’ll be fine.”Blaise softened at that, but Draco still didn’t look convinced.“And third,” Dazai continued, crooning, “I have you two looking out for me. If I start zoning out and walking around covered in blood, it’s up to Blaise and Draco to fix me!”Draco raised a brow. “You were zoning out just a minute ago.”Blaise nodded, entirely deadpan. “I’ve seen you do both of those things before, Boss. On multiple occasions.”Dazai coughed into his fist. “Right, well. Starting now.”“You’re absolutely hopeless.”“You love me anyway.”Draco sputtered, his cheeks dusting over pink.Blaise stifled a laugh at the reaction. Dazai wasn’t so kind, and cackled loudly.The light atmosphere only stayed for a moment longer, however. Once their laughter died down, a heavy-set tension settled in the air. Their eyes all fell to the diary at once.Right.Down to business.Dazai drew in a breath. Then, with a methodical hand he usually reserved for Mori’s surgical experiments, Dazai carefully gripped the diary’s cover and opened it.The first page was blank.“Blank?” Draco asked, already leaning over the desk again. Whatever trepidation he’d held before was either gone now, or temporarily put on hold. “I thought Ginny said she wrote in it all the time. Figures she was lying.”Blaise came up on his side. “Not necessarily. It could have a self-erasing charm.”A quick flip through the book revealed every page to be empty of text—Ginny's handwriting or otherwise. The diary’s cracked spine was the only indication anyone had ever opened it at all. Dazai considered for a second, before deciding on a course of action. He grabbed a quill from the desk, daubed it in ink, and hovered it over the page. “Only one way to find out.” He peered up to Draco and Blaise. “Anything you want to tell it?”“Ask if my father—” Draco suddenly squeaked to a halt. “No, no. I’m not talking to a book. That’s got to be below me, right? Blaise, is this below me?”Blaise hummed. “Tell it to stop being evil.”“Horrible ideas, both of you,” Dazai said. “We’ll go with my plan, then.”Draco sniffed, looking embarrassed. “I want it on the record that I think this is an awful idea.”“I concur.”Dazai rolled his eyes. “Dully noted.”Without further ado, he set the quill to paper. Ink bled out from the point of contact.As neatly as he could print, Dazai wrote:
  ‘Hello! Anyone home in here?’
The black ink seemed to soak up immediately, and a second passed without any response. Over the desk, Draco squinted to read the words upside-down. When he did...“Wha—Dazai! What kind of casual question is that!?”Dazai guffawed. “I don’t want to scare it off!”“Making friends with the evil book isn’t any better than Blaise’s idea!”“It’s hardly any worse—”Suddenly, the office door clicked.The three Slytherins immediately tensed up.Dazai was the first to react, swiping the diary off the desk and throwing it on his lap just as the door swung open. Unless someone were to crawl under the desk, they wouldn’t notice the diary’s presence. It was hidden under the long sleeves of his robes and the wood desktop. A frantic glance from Draco and Blaise showed they were just as worried about the diary being spotted. Dazai offered them a thin-lipped, reassuring smile in response.All’s well, that smile seemed to say.Not a second later, Fred, George, Hermione, and Ron appeared at the doorway.Upon seeing Draco, Blaise, and Dazai already present, they blinked, startled. Equally surprised faces stared back at them.Fred and George shook of the shock quickly. They beamed.“What’s this?”“A secret snake gathering? And we weren’t invited?”Draco scowled and Blaise merely shrugged.For his part, Dazai offered a flippant grin. “You know how Slytherins are. Always lying and keeping secrets.”Ron snorted as he made his way across the room. He flopped into the sofa with an umph! Hermione sat next to him a few seconds later. “Is that Dazai lecturing us about house politics? Now I know something is up.”Dazai rolled his eyes, exasperated.“Really, Boss,” Fred chirped, “if you lot are planning some kind of Slytherin scheme, we want in!”“Just pretend we’re not Gryffindor. I promise not to spread any nasty snake secrets we learn! Cross my heart, hope to—”“We were just talking,” Draco snapped. Across the room, Fred and George feigned hurt at the harsh tone. “Mind your business.”Before anyone could get another word in—and sincerely hoping to mitigate any potential fighting—Dazai cleared his throat. Everyone turned to him at once. “How have sales been lately?”The twins perked up, but not nearly as brightly as Ron did.“Fantastic!” Ron said. He was practically bouncing in his seat. Then, as self-declared Bookkeeper for this operation, he confidently declared, “We made nearly double on this week’s test compared to what we were making at the start of the semester!” He bounded over to the chalkboard to write down their earnings. He circled the sum with a grin.“Sure did,” Fred said proudly.While scrabbling around his cloak’s inner pocket, George told them, “Enough galleons to fund a very expensive, Hogwarts-wide prank! Or, you know. Split it seven ways even.” As he spoke, George withdrew several clumsy handfuls of gold, silver, and bronze coins. He unloaded them onto Dazai’s desk.Metallic clanks echoed noisily around the room.When the racket finally stopped, Dazai plucked a sickle from the pile and rolled it between his fingers.Blaise leaned forward to eye the cash with some interest. Though Draco looked more concerned with how gracelessly George had handled the coins. Needing no further instruction, Draco started to rearrange the pile into something more orderly. It wasn’t long before the bulk of their returns became apparent.This was a good haul—Ron hadn’t been kidding. Sure, it was nothing compared to the dough Port Mafia raked in every day. But for Hell’s Hounds’ first real job? A smashing success! Dazai couldn’t help but to preen with pride. He’d assigned his friends a task, and then accomplished it in bounds.He’d like to see Father do that. These days, it felt more like Mori was the boss than Father.“Hey...”Dazai flicked his sickle. It spun several times in the air before he caught it again. “Hm?”Blaise was glancing between the coins and the far corner of the room. When Dazai followed his gaze, he found Egg lazily watching their exchange. A curl of smoke rose up from her nose, but otherwise, she didn’t spare them any action.“Egg isn’t the type of dragon that hoards gold, is she?”Fred and George stiffened at the question. They took a wary step away from the pile, needing no further reason to back off than giving a feral dragon her space.Dazai tossed the coin again. “Nah,” he said, eyeing the listless dragon. She looked tired, and Dazai felt some level of sympathy for her because of it. He’d had enough sleepless nights to ache at just the thought. “Speaking of Egg, I was thinking about taking her home over break.”Surprised silence answered him.Ron shook his head, and a second later he was standing. “You’re taking her home? But she lives here!”“She’s my dragon,” Draco protested at the same time.“She was mine first!”Dazai glanced between them. “Either of you could take her, if you want.” At their affronted expressions, Dazai sighed. “Her growth will be stunted if we keep her cooped up in here forever. I think some time to fly free would make her more ferocious!”Ferocious—as if a feral dragon wasn’t the last thing Dazai needed.To be honest, Egg wasn’t exactly Dazai’s... proudest moment. Really, Dazai had only raised her to get one up on Quirrell. And now that Quirrell was out of the way? Egg was turning into something of a problem. Dazai had half a mind to kill her. That would take care of the issue that was secretly rearing a dragon.But Dazai’s gang liked her.And maybe, Dazai also...He shook the thought away like it was dandelion fluff. Couldn’t have Featherbrain getting any more jealous, now. Regardless, he probably wouldn’t be killing the dragon. Dazai turned an eye onto Draco. He rolled the sickle over his knuckles, showy. Then he palmed it, and the coin vanished from sight. “Assuming Lucius doesn’t throw a fit, you’re welcome to take her back.”Draco blinked, momentarily startled out of his glare. “I can’t just bring a dragon home, Dazai!”“Why not? You did it last year.” Dazai blew a raspberry. “Besides,” he added, just quietly enough that only Draco would hear, “I’m sure Lucius would love to house Egg again, if I'm the one asking.”Draco stared at him. There was a suddenly serious set to his face—as if the mention of Port Mafia’s involvement with Lucius was enough alone to curdle his whole mood. Dazai opened his mouth to soothe over the sore wound. But before he could get even one word out, Blaise let out an objecting, soft hum.“You’re going home for winter break?”Dazai tilted his head.Just on the other side of the desk, Blaise was eyeing him, expression guarded. That contemplative look immediately had Dazai on edge. Blaise when he had something to say could be a real menace.“I was planning on it,” Dazai said as he finally pocketed the sickle. It made a heavy weight of his robe’s front pocket.“Really?” Ron asked. “You stayed here last year.”Fred and George nodded enthusiastically. But there was something considering in their eyes as well. “That’s right! We had a holiday party and everything!”“We harassed Hagrid too, remember?”“Ah... Good times...”Dazai huffed, fondly amused. Certainly, last year’s winter break had been some kind of ordeal. Dazai’s life at Hogwarts hadn’t known peace since.Though... had it ever, really?“I only stayed last year to practice magic with Quirrell,” Dazai told them. He pointedly ignored how most everyone present recoiled at the professor’s name. Even though they knew most of the story behind Quirrell’s death, Dazai supposed it must still be jarring to talk to a murderer. He sniffed, suddenly feeling soured on the subject. “Anyway, Mori wants me home this time.”So said the letter he’d received just this morning. In light of his progress on Lucius’ assignment, Dazai was to return home. To discuss, or plan, or just try on Mori’s newest pretty dresses, Dazai had no clue. Seeing as Mori’s letter had alluded to all three, it was anyone’s guess. Dazai hardly had the patience for it.Yokohama’s ports grew cold in the winter. The wind carried frigid sea air on its breath and filled the docks with that unbearable kind of frozenness Dazai detested. But Hogwarts was cold already, too. Dazai supposed it would be the same wherever he went. Boney fingers cold and chapped.He shifted the robe tighter over his shoulders at just the thought.“Ugh,” Ron moaned, slumping back into the sofa. “Here I was hoping you'd stay. There won’t be anyone to hang out with this time. It’ll be so boring.”Dazai chuckled. “I thought you’d appreciate not having me around to rope you into schemes.”“Aw, don’t say that, Snakey!”Fred and George collapsed into Ron’s sides. They practically smothered him, and earned a loud yelp in response for their efforts. “Ronny here secretly loves your plans!”George poked his younger brother in the side. Ron squeaked. “And what do you mean boring? You’ll have us hanging around!”“Right-O, little bro!”Ron flailed against them fruitlessly. “You two don’t count!”“I’ll be going home as well,” Hermione said. She was leaning away from the Weasley Brother Dog-Pile, looking somehow both fond and annoyed with their antics. “Um... what about you two, then?”Draco gave a polite smile. “The Malfoy family hosts a winter ball every year. Naturally, I’ll be attending.”“I’m going home,” Blaise told them.“Of course you are. The party would be boring without you.”Hermione looked between them, then chuckled a little sadly. “You’ll be together? I’m a bit jealous.”“You can fly out to Japan, if you want to visit me!”“Now that’s an idea,” Hermione mused warmly. “If an impractical one.”Dazai shrugged. Of course, his offer hadn’t been serious in the slightest. Not just anyone was allowed inside Yokohama’s borders. Not without great fuss, at least. And somehow Dazai doubted a friendly visit would be a particularly compelling story for the big-wigs governing Yokohama.
  Regardless...
“Anyway,” he said, drawing everyone’s focus back on him. Even Fred and George stopped messing around with Ron when he spoke. “While you lot figure out where Egg is going, I have a class to get to.”“Right. Your special class with Professor Snape.”“You’re still doing those?”Dazai raised a brow. “Last I checked.” With a practiced ease, Dazai pulled open the desk’s drawer. In the same motion he pulled a textbook out, he slipped the diary in. Then he locked it. “Snape is such a worrywart about magical safety.”George snorted. “Does he know you call him Snape?”“He does,” Dazai grinned as he stood. “And he’s less than pleased about it.”“Nice.”“I’m working my way up to Severus,” he told them.The twins laughed.A chuckle even surprised itself out of Hermione’s lips at his boldness. She shook herself a second after, as if ashamed to find Dazai’s teasing so amusing. Her expression sobered. “These lessons with Professor Snape... they aren’t like your lessons with Quirrell, are they?”Dazai blinked. Around him, the rest of the gang suddenly paused as well.“If you mean,” Dazai said, “is he using our class as a means to get information from me?”Hermione nodded. “Or hurt you,” she said, voice tight like she hadn’t wanted to voice that thought aloud.“Information, definitely,” Dazai told them, blasé. “Hurt me, no.”He’d have to be an idiot not to notice that Snape was prodding him for information. About Yokohama. About Mori. But Dazai got the feeling Snape was just being a worrywart about it. He’d never been led to believe the potion’s master was actually sniffing out the Port Mafia. He was a mild nuisance more than anything.Something to clear up after winter break. Once all this diary nonsense was taken care of.Fred and George shared a look. “Snape-y wants info from you?” “Don’t tell me you’re snitching to him!” Fred gasped, faux-devastated.Dazai raised a brow. “What, about our latest money-making scheme?” He gestured to the neatly-stacked pile of coins on the desk. “Only if you want me to turn myself in,” he teased. Then, “he hasn’t even realized about it yet. Calm down.”Hermione let out a tight, relieved breath at that. Meanwhile, the twins chuckled. Dazai eyed the group for a second, before standing.The diary was safe. The gang was (mostly) caught up.Deciding not to dawdle any longer (he was already going to be about ten minutes late), Dazai walked to the exit. He said a quick goodbye to everyone, paying neither Blaise nor Draco any special attention. He trusted Hell’s Hounds well enough, but that didn’t mean he wanted to risk the other members’ suspicions, still.Not when he was so close.Something caught on the door before it could swing shut.Dazai pulled back from the door as he turned to see what had happened.Blaise had grabbed the hidden door just seconds before it could close. The toe of his boot had wedged into the gap, holding it open.Dazai blinked at him. He waited for Blaise to shut the door behind them before saying, “I don’t need an escort this time. I don’t think.”“Your confidence is inspiring, Boss.”“Eh,” Dazai waved his book around lamely. He didn’t know why he still brought the stupid thing to class, other than to look busy when Snape glared his way. It was an interesting read for all the day it took him to pick through it.“What do you mean, eh.” Blaise made a face. He didn’t object when Dazai started walking again, only saddled up beside him. They picked though mostly empty halls—by now well used to the stares sent their way. “Going home for winter break, hm?”Dazai shot him a passive glance. “That’s what you followed me out here about?”“It is.”Dazai hummed. “I am. I need to pass on you-know-what to Mori. Get information on what my next job will be. Boring stuff like that. Blaise will understand when he gets a job someday. Unless you want to be a house husband?”“It hadn’t occurred to me,” Blaise said.“Consider it. You’re very good at doting.”Blaise sniffed out a quiet laugh. But his typical demeanor was back within the second. “You know, you don’t have to go home if you don’t want to.”Dazai glanced at him. “Aren’t you listening? I have things do to back there.”“I mean,” Blaise said, staring forward blankly, “wouldn’t you prefer to stay here over break? Do something horrible with the twins again.”Dazai considered this. Then, he hastily shook his head. “What a weird question. Blaise should know better than to ask something like this.”“I don’t say it to be mean.”“Blaise is always saying mean things.”Blaise hummed, evidently too used to Dazai’s prods by now to react any other way. “It’s the things you say. And the little things you do.” His steady gaze turned onto Dazai, hovering pointedly over bandaged wrists. “That make me think you don’t like home very much.”Dazai’s shoulders drew upwards. “I don’t like much of anything.”Blaise glanced at him. The discomfort must have been clear across Dazai’s entire being, because he pulled back. “I only mean—I like to think I know you pretty well. I’d think you would prefer to stay here, rather than with someone you clearly don’t like.”
  Prefer to stay...
Dazai sighed, tired. The idea rankled against his brain—sour for all it was true. Hanging around Mori, or his friends? The choice was obvious for Dazai. One grated on every last one of his nerves, and the other was always a promise for fun. Sly smile and sharp words, or friendly banter and secret glances. The discrepancy left something to be desired.But.“That’s not how the world works at all, Blaise,” Dazai said with growing impatience. “Anyway, I do important stuff for the Port Mafia, you know? To leave Mori scrambling without me would be—” entertaining “—evil.”Blaise came to a sudden stop, and Dazai nearly tripped to stop with him.“Aren’t you already a villain, Dazai?” Blaise asked, serious.“Everyone here seems to think so.”“Then I think you should choose to be selfish, about going home or not...” Blaise trailed off. Then, before Dazai could make sense of his meaning, Blaise inclined his head towards Snape’s office. “We’re here.”“Oh.” Dazai blinked. “Really?”Blaise nodded. “I think you still need an escort after all, Boss. Have a good lesson.”“Cryptic as ever, Second,” Dazai called after him.He watched Blaise walk for another few seconds before deciding to finally make his entrance in Snape’s office. He wasn’t that late, all things considered. But Snape could still be a stickler when he wanted to be.
  ...Choose to be selfish, huh?
Wasn’t he already doing that?Dazai turned on his heels, steps purposeful and clacking on the tile. He threw open the door.“Snape! I’m here for my lesson!” He cheered and slammed the door at his back. The bang! was loud enough to rattle potions.Snape swore, hastily reaching out to grab a green potion before it could fall off his desk.Dazai nearly laughed. But he stopped short upon realizing Madam Pomfrey was sitting in on this class as well. She was watching their exchange with an exasperated sort of expression.“Mr. Dazai, what have I said about calling me that? And don’t make such a—”Dazai plopped down into his seat with a vocal oomph! He kicked Snape’s desk while crossing his legs.“—ruckus.” Snape groaned. His brow twitched. “You’re in a mood today.”Dazai tilted his head. “Oh? I didn’t know Snape was so attentive of me.”Snape grit his teeth, looking about a second from popping a blood vessel somewhere vital.“I’m just kidding, Sir,” Dazai soothed half-heartedly. Snape didn’t look convinced. “A friend suggested I try and be more selfish. Since I wanted to annoy Snape today, I decided to commit to it.”“Don’t take advice from the Weasley twins.”Dazai grinned, but didn’t correct his professor. Instead, he cheekily prodded, “you’re only upset I won our bet over Quidditch the other day!”Snape eyed him for a moment. Only once he was certain Dazai was going to behave himself did Snape finally release his iron-tight grip on the potion. He set it down beside a stack of student essays Dazai hadn’t participated in.Pomfrey cleared her throat, expression distinctly amused. “Now, now, you two...”Snape shot her a glare.Dazai smiled pleasantly. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Madam Pomfrey is here today again, hm? Are we finally moving on to a cooler spell?”Snape looked like he wanted to scold Dazai again, but Pomfrey was quicker to the chase.“Based on my observations, I do believe you’re ready to move onto more powerful spells,” she said, voice warm. Dazai perked up in interest. “Perhaps some basic transfiguration would interest you?”“Regardless of what interests him, that’s what he’s learning next,” Snape trampled over Dazai’s excitement.“Like match to needle?” Dazai asked. He recalled trying to learn that particular spell last year and failing spectacularly. That had been so early in the year, Dazai hadn’t even been able to conjure up the magic to make himself ill. The match had just stubbornly sat there, pointless.Snape nodded. He reached into his desk and withdrew a matchbook. Then, he plucked out two match sticks and set them on the desk.Dazai grinned, pleased with himself for having guessed correctly. He drew his wand out without needing to be told.“Not so fast.” Snape held up a hand.Dazai deflated.“We’ll start with an example,” Snape said as he pulled his own wand out. Dazai followed the movement carefully.An example would be helpful. Though he’d spent the better part of one-and-a-half years feeling classmates cast transfigurations spells, and didn’t know how necessary it was. Transfiguration spells all had fundamentally the same magical signature, he thought. But Dazai had only ever tried casting once. A refresher might be useful.Snape watched him, waiting for Dazai’s affirming nod before casting.Instinctively, Dazai perked up as magic swirled to life in the air.The match elongated and sharpened at the point. It shifted color—from a woody brown to a shiny silver. The transformation only lasted for a few seconds, but Dazai could still feel the magic zapping around it for a moment more.Same old feeling. Dazai could replicate that.He glanced to Snape before lifting his own wand, wanting express permission lest he draw the professor's ire again. Snape and Pomfrey shared a glance. It wasn’t until Pomfrey’s quill was hovering over her notes that Snape gave him the go-ahead.Dazai paid them no mind. By now, he was well used to Pomfrey documenting their classes. The scrutiny would only put him on edge if he let it. But her notes were mostly medical in nature, and therefore not of much concern to him. It wasn’t like they were actually going to be able to deduce No Longer Human’s existence.Dazai waved his wand in the same tight motion Snape had. He focused his magic in that familiar shape transfiguration took—something revolving and strange. It swirled up at the tip of his wand and—The match rolled.Dazai stared down at it.That should have worked. Everything felt right, so why..?“Do you need another example?” Pomfrey asked, drawing Dazai from his blistering thoughts. Her quill had stalled over the paper, and Dazai frowned at it in offence.“No,” he grumbled. Maybe if he focused more on the chemical composition of the match-needle...Nothing.Dazai grit his teeth. This feeling of repeated failure was annoyingly familiar. Wasn’t he passed this by now?He tried casting again. And while the magic around them changed shape, the match did not. Snape’s own needle seemed to mock him.Snape, once more, held up a hand to stop Dazai from casting again.“Let’s try something else.”Dazai rubbed his fingers along his wand’s grain. “I don’t need to try a different spell. I just need to figure out which part I’m doing wrong.”It wasn’t the shape or the feel of the magic. Dazai was certain that was correct! And it wasn’t as if he didn’t remember all of the basic transfiguration matrices. Transfiguration didn’t have a corresponding verbal cast, so he wasn’t failing to pronounce anything correctly, either.Snape grunted a sound of acknowledgement. “I don’t mean a different spell.”Dazai blinked. “You don’t?”Pomfrey’s quill tapped thoughtfully against the page. Both Snape and Dazai turned their attentions to her.“How about we try to walk through it, together?” She asked. Then, with a quick glance to her notes, she continued, “Mr. Dazai, just what magical sensation are you attempting to replicate when you cast this spell?”Magic buzzed incessantly in Dazai’s ears.
  “Hm?”
Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. “Don’t act coy,” he groaned.“That’s how you’ve been casting until now, isn’t it?” Pomfrey asked. “Observing the magic being cast around you and recreating it?”Defensive, Dazai leaned away from the desk. But that slight motion was answer enough.Snape looked, briefly, exhausted. “As we thought. Problem Child, if you’d explained how you were working earlier, we could have shaped our lessons around your method ages ago.”“You’re truly impressive to use your magical sensitivity in such a way,” Pomfrey said. Dazai shifted uncomfortably at the praise. “Though I have to agree: why did you keep it a secret, when we could have used this information to help you?”They both stared him down, evidently waiting for an answer.Dazai bristled, the words ‘because I don’t trust you’ weighing on his tongue. He didn’t voice them aloud. Instead, he leaned on the more comfortable persona of bumbling idiot.“Hm? Is that something Snape would want to know?”Snape grit his teeth. “Yes.”“Well, you should have said something, then.” Dazai flapped a hand around. “Here I was thinking you didn’t care.”“Obviously I care, brat.”“Really? With all that barking and spitting, I thought you were the type to be angry all the time.”Poppy cleared her throat. Dazai chose to interpret the fumbling gesture as amused rather than stern. Snape had enough sternness for the both of them.“Mr. Dazai,” she said, turning a quelling look onto him.
  Ah. Not amused, then.
Dazai nodded her way to show he was listening, and Snape made an exaggerated sound once he was turned away.Pomfrey smiled, pleased. “Describe how the ‘match-to-needle' spell feels for you. Perhaps if we can better understand how you learn, we can make this lesson more amenable for you.”“It doesn’t matter. All transfiguration spells are about the same,” Dazai grumbled. Already, he was wishing he could just bully Snape again. At least that was a productive exercise. “I’m missing something else.”“Really?” Pomfrey asked, sounding surprised. Dazai eyed the reaction curiously, but turned back to his match rather than comment on it.In response, Dazai made a vague, turning motion with his hand. That more-or-less summed up transfiguration for him. Spinning, revolving, changing. Like an age-old wheel.“Manners, Problem Child.”Dazai blinked.Right. To Snape and Pomfrey, that gesture probably just looked dismissive. He let his hand drop back into his lap with an unsatisfied fwhump.“If you say so.”...if it wasn’t chemical make-up or magical know-how, then what else was holding him back?Something else—something fundamental, obviously, for him to still be struggling with it. Usually, figuring out the right magical signature was enough to get the spell casting properly. That, and the ability to not get a migraine.“I do say so,” Snape spat.Dazai brushed him off. “I thought Professor McGonagall was the expert at transfiguration. What are you going to help with?”Snape’s jaw twitched. “I assure you, my talents aren’t limited to merely one subject. As the teacher here, I’d expect more respect.”“Sure,” Dazai nodded patiently, “you’re only saying that because Professor McGonagall doesn’t like me, right? She doesn’t want to teach me herself?”Pomfrey and Snape shared a glance. Then, the matron cleared her throat.“Let’s try to stay focused, okay?” She smiled. “You said you think you’re missing something. What part of the spell is lacking, Mr. Dazai?”“The part where it works.”“Clearly,” Snape droned. Dazai shot him an unamused look. “What part precisely, Problem Child?”“I don’t know!” Dazai grasped vaguely at the air. Trying to grab onto that invisible something that would solve his spell. Predictably, no epiphany came to him.The magic was doing what it was supposed to—changing shape just how Dazai wanted it to. But rather than do anything, the magic only flounced about. Completely useless.He said as much to Pomfrey and Snape.The matron hummed, the furrow between her brows telling Dazai she was considering his every word carefully. It was a little unnerving. “You have that much control over the magic?” She asked. When Dazai nodded, her contemplative expression only deepened. “And it’s still not working... but you aren’t feeling sick, dear?”“Not at all,” Dazai brushed off her concerns quickly. He had a good grasp on his magical limits. And between the start of the year and now, Dazai’s limit had grown from one meager spell to several dozen. He wouldn’t be sick for a while yet.More than just a lack of sickness, spells were coming easier to him as well. Wingardium Leviosa was mastered within one class. Then the wand-lighting charm the class after that. Nowadays, it was a just a matter of 'feel the spell, replicate the spell, call it a day.'All the more reason why this current set-back was cause for such frustration.Severus had a similar thoughtful mien about him.“When you cast,” he said, contemplative, “what are you thinking about?”Dazai tilted his head, wondering where this line of questioning was going.What was he thinking about? The spell, obviously! Magic was a simple one-two step of ‘tell the magic what to do’ and ‘make the magic do it.’ There wasn’t anything else to think about. “I’m not getting distracted,” Dazai told him petulantly.“I mean in regards to the spell, brat. I should hope you aren’t letting your mind wander in the middle of class.”Dazai made a face. “I’m thinking, I better figure this spell out quickly or Snape is going to lecture me all weekend.”Snape grit his teeth. “Professor Snape.”“Sure. Him too.”“Now, now, you two,” Pomfrey placated. She tapped her quill against the paper, clearly deep in thought. And though Dazai doubted she was going to be able to solve his current problem, he was at least a little curious as to her current line of thought. “Beginners at transfiguration usually make their mistakes with their wand manipulation.”Snape grunted. He eyed Dazai's wand hand with some interest. “Clearly, that isn’t Mr. Dazai’s problem. His form is adequate.”“Yes,” she shook her head, frowning thoughtfully. “Lack of focus is another major mistake.”“That’s what I was thinking.” Before Dazai could interrupt again, petulant, Snape continued. “Transfiguration spells are very precise. Even a single wayward thought can prevent complete transformation.”“Hence why beginners often make the match shiny, but not pointed. Or sharp, but still wooden.”Dazai considered that.But...“That’s not right at all,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. He huffed out a peeved breath. “Motus Subtilis was more nitpicky than this.”On the desk, the match suddenly rolled as if Dazai’s breath had lifted it through sheer irritation alone. Figured his annoyance was more powerful than this shoddy spell.Snape’s eyes snapped to the match first, then to Dazai himself. He wore an expression like he was debating whether or not to scold Dazai for arguing.In the end, Snape settled on merely glaring.Dazai turned a glare of his own onto the match, certain he should channel his frustration out onto it rather than his own lack of talent. - It wasn’t a lack of talent; transfiguration was just stupid.Dazai was certain of that much. It had been a while since he’d failed so spectacularly at spell casting, and Dazai was only left with the conclusion that transfiguration was some kind of...Well. Dazai didn’t know what. But it clearly worked upon different laws to the rest of magic. If all transfiguration spells had the same magical signature, then there must have been something else. Something Snape wasn’t telling him—or maybe didn’t know about himself.An hour. A full hour. Practicing the world’s stupidest spell to absolutely no result.Dazai was starting to feel like a first-year again. Waving his wand around to no effect.But he knew how magic worked now. Could write a whole book on it, if he really wanted to bore himself with the exercise. Something was wrong. Some invisible step to transfiguration that magic alone couldn’t act on.In short: transfiguration sucked.Dazai opened his eyes and the curious faces of Snape and Pomfrey stared back at him.Another point for transfiguration being stupid: he couldn’t sense out any changes to the magical signature even with his eyes closed.“Transfiguration is the worst,” he grunted. Dazai slumped back in the chair, expression peeved and fingers sore around his wand from overuse. “I want to cast cool spells again. Let’s do incendio—”Just as he spoke, a flicker of fire spurted out from Dazai’s wand. It shot out towards a stack of papers that Snape deftly swiped off the desk. Black charred the desktop, but otherwise didn’t spread the flame. Dazai sighed, dispassioned.
  “Careful—”
Dazai blew a raspberry. “I’m being careful. That was intentional.”Snape’s jaw snapped shut.Pomfrey hummed, evidently unbothered by Dazai’s errant fire magic. She glanced down at her notes, which had been left untouched for several minutes now. “I think,” she said, “we should consult Minerva for the next lesson. I’m sure she’ll have some proper input.”Snape side-eyed her. “My input is plenty proper.”“And hers will be more so,” Pomfrey said. “If anyone can discern what is—as Mr. Dazai puts it—missing from his spellcasting, Minerva can."Snape made a sound—presumably thoughtful. But there was a noticeable tension to his face, Dazai saw. Almost like Snape wasn’t entirely on-board with McGonagall’s involvement.Odd. Dazai had always thought the two professors were fairly close. His eyes narrowed, assessing, but Snape’s face didn’t give any more away.“...as long as you don’t invite Lockhart,” Dazai said warily.Snape and Pomfrey blinked.Then, Pomfrey snorted.Beside her, Snape looked sick at merely the thought.Seeing this, Dazai joined in Pomfrey’s delighted giggles.After a second, Snape finally relented. The corner of his lips twitched upwards vaguely in amusement. He shook his head. “Certainly, that man will not be invited.” He glanced at the door, as if Lockhart might suddenly barge in without warning—a declaration of ‘the hero has arrived!’ on his lips. “He will never be invited.”“That’s the only smart thing you’ve said all lesson, Snape,” Dazai cheerily told him.Snape’s good mood was immediately dashed. “Remind me why I put up with your insolence again, Problem Child,” he grit out.“You barely tolerate me, Sir.”Snape stared him down for a moment, then gruffly spit, “just barely.”“I think,” Pomfrey said, tearing them from their bantering. “Now may be a good time to stop for today.” She cast an exasperated glance to Snape and Dazai both. “Honestly, how you two managed lessons—just the two of you without supervision—is beyond me.”Snape bristled. “We manage just fine.”“We’re only sometimes at each other’s throats, Ma’am.”Pomfrey smiled indulgently his way. Then, serious once more, she rested her notes on her lap. “As for our next step,” she said, “if Minerva is available, I would like to invite her to our next lesson. See what she has to say on the subject.”Snape nodded, looking his usual stern self at being back on topic. “I agree. Although I doubt she’ll be able...” he paused. “Between her classes, her lions, and her other obligations, Minerva will be hard-pressed to find the time.”Pomfrey hummed. “Perhaps over winter break?” She inquired. “She’ll have more time—we all will—to commit ourselves to getting Mr. Dazai caught up with his peers.” She paused, already seriously considering continuing their lessons over break.Snape nodded, also contemplative.Dazai wondered if he should say something.
  “...let's see...”

  “...if we tell Minerva now, she can have her own lesson plan prepared for break...”

  “...the only good time for her, I’m afraid...”

  “...Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday...”

  “...ideally, Sunday, as well...”
He looked between them, watching as Snape and Pomfrey ironed out a class schedule. Dazai watched, bewildered, as the entire plan seemed to cement itself around him—and without him.They could probably meet at the same time. Maybe for longer hours, or for more days. Minerva’s own break schedule would need to be figured out, of course. She was the keystone piece in all of this. She’d need time to learn Dazai’s casting style, then figure out what he was doing wrong. Maybe consult a few books on the subject. Or find her own half-forgotten spell Dazai could practice on. Then assuming everyone was amenable—“I’m going home for break,” Dazai finally cut in.Pomfrey and Snape’s conversation ground to a dead-halt.The traction of their growing plan skidded and stumbled until all that remained was two stupefied faces and Dazai’s own plain interjection.When they just kept staring, Dazai cleared his throat to continue.“I already bought a plane ticket and everything,” he said. “There’s no way Mori will let me stay here just to learn one stupid spell. If it’s such a big deal, just recommend me a book and I’ll read it over the holiday.”Snape’s brows furrowed, suddenly his entire mien filled with tension. There was an odd emotion in his eyes—one Dazai recognized from when Snape decided to poke around too much. It immediately had Dazai on edge. He needed to shut that down fast.Lucky for Dazai, he had the perfect distraction all lined up and ready to go.“...You’re going home.”“I’m sure I can figure the spell out on my own. No need to sound so anxious, Severus,” Dazai deflected, smilingly. The name rolled smoothly off his tongue like it belonged there. Sweet like honey in tea.“You—What—” Snape stop-started. Tension morphed into befuddlement in a split-second twitch of his face. He skipped straight past worried, annoyed, enraged—and right into utterly baffled. “What did you just call me?”“Hm? I don’t know what you mean, Sir.”Snape’s lips pressed into a thin line. A second later, his entire face bloomed red with blood.Rage.His shoulders shook—Dazai recognized the motion of someone about to snap. Father wore that look during his fits.Dazai was already prepared for the strike this time. He wouldn’t be caught off-guard by Snape reaching forward like he had in the past. It was different, like this. Laying the trap, then waiting for retaliation.Predictable.Only scary if he wanted it to be.Shoulders stiff as a cemetery stone and smile just as stabbing, Dazai waited for the inevitable explosion.Snape drew in a breath and—
  And—!
Then let it out slowly.“Detention,” he said, carefully biting out the word like it held any kind of weight. “For a week. I won’t tolerate that level of disrespect. You will call me Professor Snape, and nothing else, brat."Dazai stared. He blinked several times, as if that would clear his vision up—because there was no way Snape was just going to take a deep breath and move on.Or... maybe there was?Because Snape only scowled at him from across the desk.And. Okay. Maybe Dazai should have expected that. Snape was the type of person to bark and spit, but he’d never really lashed out before, had he? Still...“That’s it?”Snape sighed and pinched his brow. “Two weeks detention, then.”“Ah...” Dazai shifted in his seat. “That’s not what I meant.”“I know it’s not,” Snape muttered under his breath. Dazai had to strain to hear him. Then, “Shall I make it three weeks, Mr. Dazai?”At his side, Pomfrey had gone quiet, and her lips were pursed with displeasure. When she saw Dazai glancing at her, she shook an uncertain smile loose. “Let’s not make any more trouble now, you two.”Snape shot her a look. “’You two’?” he echoed, annoyed. “Who’s the one making trouble here, again?”Dazai stared between them.His deflection had... kind of worked.But in an attempt to avoid Snape’s pesky habit of prying into his home life, he’d only come face-to-face with this new weird, passive version of his potion’s professor. Someone who let things slide and was apparently only easy to manipulate in certain directions.Strange! Snape was predictable up until the point that he wasn’t.Dazai didn’t know if he should feel interested or threatened.While Pomfrey and Snape were briefly distracted, Dazai quietly gathered his belongings. He wouldn’t be able to make a silent escape, but the sooner he moved, the less time he’d have to spend here. All his moving around must have caught their attention, though.“You know... no student is required to return home over winter break.” Snape froze Dazai in place with a slowly raised hand. “Even if their guardian requests it.”Dazai made a show of continuing to gather his things, clearly not enthused with Snape’s continued questioning. “That’s sounds like kidnapping,” he said.“What?” Pomfrey startled.Snape let out another breath. Steadying himself, maybe. He wore a particularly serious expression that Dazai had found himself learning to hate more and more as the year went on. “Students enrolled at Hogwarts are placed temporarily in the school’s care. That contract is only repealed once the second semester ends.”Dazai tilted his head.Really? And Mori had still signed him off for this mission? Dazai wouldn’t have thought the doctor could handle having his things legally belong to someone else.But Mori had always been someone for risky gambles when the payoff was grand enough. Dazai shouldn’t be so surprised on that front.Although... “Does that make you my guardian, right now?” He asked.Snape made a face at that, and Pomfrey answered for him. “In a sense, yes. Every staff member at Hogwarts is currently your legal guardian.”"Then I should be able to call you Severus if I want! You know, we’re basically family until May.”“You’ll be in detention until May, brat.”“More time to spend together, Severus! Aren’t we a lucky family!”
  “You—!”
Abruptly, Pomfrey shot to her feet.Dazai and Snape immediately snapped to attention.“What Mr. Snape intends to say is,” she began harshly. Only once it became clear they were done fighting did her tone drop into its usual honeyed cadence. She slowly lowered herself back down. “It is no one’s choice but your own where you spend your break.”“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Dazai mumbled into his chest.Because really—twice in one day?Sure, he was pretty open about disliking Mori, but that was hardly cause for everyone to jump on him about staying on campus! And while sticking it to Mori was always fun, he couldn’t just up-and abandon this job.  Not when it was the Port Mafia’s will. And certainly not when there were so many moving parts.First Blaise. Now this.Were his emotions really so plainly written across his face?Had he been slipping without noticing? Become something that’s easy to read?Maybe Mori was right.Maybe Hogwarts was making him soft.Something blistered in Dazai’s chest. To spite the feeling, he drew a blank frown over his face.“I’m going home for break,” Dazai repeated, this time more firmly. No room for argument. “There’s no choice to consider.”“Mr. Dazai. I need you to think this through properly,” Snape argued.Dazai leveled him with a tired stare.“I’ve given it plenty of thought. You just like making problems where there aren’t any.”Snape clicked his tongue—clearly irritated, but as always holding back from doing anything about it.Instead, they repeated the same waltzing steps they always danced: Snape sniffed out something he deemed worrisome, Dazai told him to mind his own business. Snape lied. Dazai lied. Then they revolved around to bickering again.After a second, Snape’s hand fell to the drawer of his desk.Grabbing the tea, undoubtedly. It was his favorite thing to reach for before starting a bothersome conversation. Dazai waited for the tell-tale clink of his mugs on the desk, a complaint about honey already prepped on his tongue. Though a warm cup did sound nice right now. And it was always nice to give his hands something to distract themselves with.Snape set a charred sheet of paper on the desk.Dazai blinked.
  Huh?
“What’s this?” The question slipped out before he could stall his curiosity. He leaned forward in his seat, annoyances momentarily forgotten upon being caught so off guard. No tea kettle in sight. No familiar snake-skin mug chasing after it.The folded piece of paper wasn’t magic—Dazai could tell. But something about it still struck him as... odd. It churned in his guts, a realization yet unrealized. The fold of the paper was brochure style: divided into three. The paper would have looked expensive if it weren’t for how it had clearly been burnt to bits. Dazai couldn’t see anything written on it from his seat, but that didn’t mean it was blank. For Snape to be showing it like this, it must have said something interesting. Interesting and relevant. Hm...These observations ran through Dazai’s mind in an instant.Such that by the time Snape even opened his mouth to answer Dazai’s questions, the mafioso had already realized the paper’s origins.The feeling bubbling in his stomach was undoubtedly something like dread.“Explain this to me,” Snape said, tapping a finger against the letter. “If you can do that, I’ll permit you to return home.”Dazai stared.Pomfrey did the same—expression surprised. Maybe more than Dazai’s own, which he had shuttered closed into something empty once again.She recognized the letter, but hadn’t expected Snape to mention it, then. Dazai looked between them, hoping to find some weakness there worth exploiting.“...Let me read it, first,” Dazai said slowly. Snape looked ready to argue again. “I can hardly tell you which letter that is without at least skimming it first.”Snape’s expression darkened as if Dazai’s request had decided something foul for him. “You recognize it, then.”“I recognize Mori’s fancy paper.”Snape grunted. Then, he pushed the letter across the desk.Dazai took it without a word, unfolding the tri-fold to skim its contents. There wasn’t much. Most of the letter had been burnt away—likely a remnant from Egg’s early exploits. Probably, Snape had plucked it out of some pile of ash, somewhere. Lucky for Dazai, the letter wasn’t particularly damning. A few lines of Mori being his typical annoying self, was really all. No reference to the Philosopher’s Stone. Nor any mention of the Port Mafia and its ongoing scheme.Nothing critical had been leaked, but the tight band of pressure around his chest constricted all the same.“After all I’ve given you, it would be such a bother for you to fail me now,” Mori had written. Dazai remembered it without having to read it again, but he let his eyes bathe in the curving, black ink anyway. “You won’t be returning home if you don’t do this, understand? Not in one piece, at least, and that wouldn’t be cute at all.”Finished reading, Dazai took a silent moment to look up at Snape and Pomfrey.They both appeared as serious as ever. For once, even Pomfrey’s everlasting warmth was replaced with a severe frown and tense shoulders. They were looking at one another. Evidently, they were having some kind of silent communication. Whatever it was, they lacked the same finesse Fred and George had. A second later, Pomfrey turned back to her notes and silently re-opened them.Dazai glanced back to the letter.Had he really just left this lying around for anyone to take?He was beyond lucky all the important bits had burnt away (Dazai made a mental note to feed Egg something expensive and bl@@dy, later).It was sloppy, leaving this behind. Dazai didn’t do sloppy. He was all clean, efficient work and careful pre-planning. He wasn’t... a heart-on-his-sleeve, evidence leaving fool!What was it Mori said at the start of the semester? I’m not acting like a mafioso.Dazai set the letter on his lap.His eyes fell to the swooping M. underlining the page. Then he pinched the skin of his wrist until it turned cherry red. It burned.“Mr. Dazai...”Right. Everyone here was annoying about that particular habit. Dazai silently redirected his hand to the front pocket of his cloak. He withdrew the sickle he’d stashed there earlier. Then, with nimble fingers, he danced it across his knuckles. The coin flipped onto the back of his hand, then into his open palm. A flash of Dazai’s fingers had the coin vanish from view. One second and a flick of his wrist later, the coin was in his palm again. Repeat.Snape and Pomfrey followed the ostentatious coin tricks with wide eyes. Based on their expressions, Dazai wasn’t sure they were really following the sleight-of-hand. Quick fingers made for confusing work. Dazai liked it that way.Brows pinched, it took Snape nearly a minute before he seemed to realize Dazai was only keeping his hands busy, and not attempting some kind of bribe. He cleared his throat.“This letter,” he said, “it was written by Mori?”“Yep,” Dazai said, popping the p loudly.Snape’s lip twitched. “And yet, he makes reference to someone else being your father.”Dazai rested his head to one side. “I’m adopted.”Snape hummed, as though he’d already suspected something along those lines. He was still too calm—starting with the easy questions and working up, then...Dazai tossed the coin. It spun several times before catching in his open hand. “He’s annoying about it. And so is my father.” He didn’t have to fake the irritation in his voice. The whole situation with Mori treating Father’s waning health was a cluster. Dazai was unfortunately stuck smack in the middle of it. In truth, he didn’t like either of them. Dazai would rather be left well alone. “Next.”“We have quite a few concerns, dear,” Pomfrey gentled. “How about you explain everything to us, and we’ll work from there?”Sitting upright, Dazai considered her request.“Aren’t you going to at least make tea first?” He asked Snape.“Explain the letter.”“Right, right...”Dazai puffed. Snape was really insistent today, hm?“There’s not much to say.”  Dazai snapped his fingers, and the coin jumped into his other hand. “Mori was being annoying, as always.” Snap. “We wrote back-and-forth all last year, but he never managed to write a letter that wasn’t completely insufferable.” Snap. “You know. You’ve met him.”Snape shifted at that, an odd expression on his face. “Briefly,” he said. “Your fath—guardian’s behavior wasn’t exactly my main priority, back then. I seem to recall a cheeky brat taking up all my attention at the time.”“You’re a teacher, shouldn’t you be better at multitasking?”Pomfrey cleared her throat pointedly.“Whatever. You didn’t miss much, other than Mori being his usual slimy self. If I had the luxury of ignoring him too, I would,” Dazai said, sounding almost wistful.“Slimy...” Pomfrey mouthed. “Mr. Dazai, can you explain that?”
  “Of; relating to; or resembling slime.”
Pomfrey’s brows pinched in confusion, but beside her, Snape merely sighed.“Don’t just echo the dictionary at us, Problem Child,” he breathed. “Explanations. Examples. Here—” Snape poked a finger down on the letter, stabbing out a particularly sentence like it had wronged him. “What does this mean?”Dazai leaned forward to read it. Mori had written him,
  “It’s a bit too large for Elise, but that’s what I have you for. You always have looked adorable in white. You’re not pure like that at all.”
“Exactly what it sounds like,” Dazai grumbled. Even just reading over it now, Dazai could feel the drag on soft fabrics over his skin. White lace and frilly hems. A collared neck and a petticoat. Dazai didn’t actually mind wearing more feminine clothes. He just didn’t like when it was Mori doing the dressing. Really, Mori had soured the whole thing for him. “The dress was too big for Elise, so he wanted me to wear it.”“The... dress...” Snape trailed off, seemingly unsure of what to make of that. He glanced to Pomfrey, whose expression was oddly serious.“Don’t get weird about that part,” Dazai sniffed. “I’ll wear whatever I like.”“That’s not what I—” Snape stopped himself. He drew in a labored breath. “Sorry.”“Making you wear this dress... is one of those slimy things Mori does?” Pomfrey asked. Her voice was careful like it was treading a thin edge. Like she was talking to a child. Dazai didn’t like that one bit. When people talked slow and intentional like that, it meant they had something they wanted to say. Something they weren’t sure how to say.And he wasn’t a child. Not really.Now it was Dazai’s turn to make a face. “He just goes shopping with Elise too much,” he said, just as careful as Pomfrey had. “I don’t mind.”He did. But that was beside the point.Pomfrey smiled indulgently—but also somewhat guiltily. Clearly, she didn’t really believe he was unbothered. Though Dazai wasn’t clear, exactly, on what she was so hung up on. Sure, Mori was a creep. But that was old news.“That last comment—” Pomfrey gently prodded.“About purity?” Dazai asked. He tasted the word around his tongue like he’d eaten one of Fred’s joke candies—the ones that burst into garbage flavors rather than cherry or honey or whatever else was actually printed on the box.Pomfrey and Snape nodded.“You could ask anyone about that,” Dazai told them.They shared a look.“Explain.”Dazai flicked the coin. When he caught it, he covered it with his other hand. He made a mental guess at what it had landed on—tails—then uncovered it.Tails.“Well, everyone here thinks I’m evil, right? I’m the so-called Demon Student.”Pomfrey’s look of blistering guilt doubled, and Snape pursed his lips tightly in response.Dazai tossed the coin again. This time as he covered it, he gestured for Snape to call it. When his professor didn’t bite, Dazai sighed and peeked at it himself. Tails again.“Mori was only expressing a similar thought. A demon shouldn’t wear white—something like that.” Dazai paused. “He says I look better in black, you know. Lucky the school uniform is so dark, hm? It suits my figure better.”They stared at him, evidently at a loss for words.Snape shook himself. “Your own guardian thinks that about you?”There was something odd in his voice. Trepidation? Whatever the emotion, it had Dazai fumbling his next coin flip. He hastened to catch it.A failed toss! Dazai took an eager stab in the dark, and called the toss as having landed heads.A quick glance revealed his guess to be right, and he sighed.“But this letter is from before Quirrell’s...” Snape trailed off, a flash of guilt suddenly in his eyes. At once, he straightened. “This isn’t a new development.”“Course not,” Dazai said, flapping his hand around disinterestedly. He paused, then. How exactly should he explain that to Mori, being evil wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. In the Port Mafia, someone without morals was flexible. Wasn’t constrained by anything, except, apparently, that they wouldn’t look good in white. Eventually, he settled on a dry, “call it an inside joke.”He wasn’t laughing, though. And neither were Pomfrey and Snape, who now both looked about seconds from being sick. Dazai wasn’t sure why. Still, he got the feeling he must have mis-stepped, somehow. Or otherwise, that those two were on a completely different page than he was.Drat. The differences between Port Mafia life and Hogwarts life were, once again, a startling pain to reconcile.Conversations of this nature were always easier in the Port Mafia, where ‘he thinks I’m evil’ was more of a brag than anything else. Where having the boss’ doctor’s full attention was only a bad thing if Dazai let it be one.“Mori just knows me,” he said after a second. “How I am.”Snape made a face like he wanted to disagree.“...and when he says, here,” Pomfrey indicated the letter, “that you wouldn’t be returning home in one piece, if you failed.” She leaned away from the page. “Could you please explain that? Please—there's no judgement of you here.”“Fail my classes and be punished,” Dazai lied. “That’s all.”At the word ‘punished,’ Pomfrey and Snape sat at full attention. If Dazai had thought they’d been on edge before, he was instantly proven wrong twice-over. Snape’s stare was intense. Pomfrey’s only mildly less so.“What kind of punishment.” Snape spoke, and it was not a question when he said it like that.Dazai wracked his brains.Because in this context, Mori had most certainly meant “I’ll drop you on my surgical table, have a go, and I’ll decide what to do with you from there.”That was not the answer Snape and Pomfrey wanted—or maybe it was, but not in any way Dazai thought he might benefit from. In any case, Dazai decided it was best to soften his answer. Something a bit less vivisection in nature, and a bit more... pedestrian. Something Draco’s father might do. Or Ron’s, or Hermione’s.Until, abruptly, Dazai realized he didn’t know.‘He’d beat the sh@t out of me,’ was the first thing Dazai thought of. But, thinking back, the most punishment Hogwarts had ever doled out was making him listen to Lockhart talk for an hour straight. So maybe a beating was too harsh? But that couldn’t possibly be right.Detention, then. Or—the homebound equivalent—grounding.That was it. That was the safest answer. To successfully navigate this situation, he’d avoid any talk of violence whatsoever. The last thing Dazai needed was Snape connecting random dots between violence and Yokohama and then, inevitably, the mafia.“Mr. Dazai?” Pomfrey asked, gentle and slow, “you can tell us.”“No harm will come to you. I promise.”Dazai frowned. He’d taken too long to answer, and the abnormal silence must have made him look scared.He was scared, kind of. Scared that he’d been slipping as a mafioso. That the correct answer hadn’t immediately popped to mind. That Mori was right about him.“Ah... my mind wandered off,” Dazai apologized, sheepish.Pomfrey’s returning smile was sad. “That’s alright, dear. Do you need a minute, or..?”He shook his head. “No. Uh—it's a figure of speech, ‘not in one piece.’ He just means I’ll regret it.”Snape gestured for him to continue. His hands were pressed flat against the table, but every so often a minute tremor ran through them.Dazai flipped his coin, fingers precise.Heads, just as he’d thought.The next one would be tails, he decided."I didn’t fail my classes, though,” Dazai told them, “the headmaster let me pass, remember? I didn’t get punished for that.”Tails.The next one would be tails again. Dazai pretended to mis-judge the toss, and caught it in his left hand rather than his right.“But Mori has... punished you. For other things?”“Tails,” Dazai muttered to himself upon spotting the coin. He tossed it again. “Sure. Speaking out of turn, stealing things from his office, scr@w@ng around while he’s trying to patch me up. Things like that.”Pomfrey’s eyes narrowed. “Patch you up?” She asked.“Mori is a doctor,” Dazai explained. Though, really, at least Snape already knew that much. Dazai called the next toss as heads. “Last time he was cleaning up a dog bite, I kicked him in the stomach.” He indicated the spot on his arm where a feisty retriever had sunk its teeth in. “He grounded me to the kennel. I guess I was supposed to learn a lesson, but I didn’t really learn anything 'cept that dogs are gross.”The coin landed heads.Snape and Pomfrey stared, and the next flip would land the coin tails.The truth was that Dazai was simply gifted with the feel of a coin in his palm. The weight of it, the raise on each side, the spiney ridges along its edge like a dead thing’s rib cage. There was nothing random about how Dazai flipped a coin. It was too familiar to mistake. And when Dazai tossed it—how he flicked his thumb, how many times it spun—he already knew how it would land. The tails face was ever-so-slightly heavier on this particular coin, so if he flicked it just like this, it would always land on tails. Flip it like that, and it would be heads.Dazai made a game of it. Of rigging the coin to land tails-end up, then trying to convince himself it had landed heads instead. But it always revealed exactly how he’d told it to, and never flipped itself around without his knowing. Even when he pretended to flub it, Dazai’s hands wouldn’t fail him. There was no such thing as chance in Dazai’s hands.The only splinter of fun this game offered was when he really did drop the coin.“Kennel?” Snape echoed, something horrified bleeding into his words.Dazai’s brows pinched, certain he hadn’t mis-stepped but still seeing that look on Snape’s face as though he had. “Dogs,” Dazai said, simply. “Ugly, smelly things? Bite if you look at them too long, wag their stupid tails if you smile their way?”Snape’s lips twitched, but his annoyance was muted beneath something else. Something... boiling, Dazai thought. “I know what a dog is, Mr. Dazai.”“Then why ask such a stupid question?”Snape gaped, at a loss for words.Dazai glanced to Pomfrey and found her similarly frozen, hand stalled over her notes.He tossed the coin heads, and it landed just that a second later.“And Mori...” Snape trailed away. “...often..?”“I’m very well behaved,” Dazai said by way of answer.They didn’t look convinced—but not in the usual way that had Dazai hiding a cheeky smile. More like they had learned something unsavory.
  Like they were about to throw up.
It was odd, but mostly annoying. Because Dazai had hedged his responses in such a way to avoid that kind of reaction. Though, he supposed, no one was jumping across the table to grab at him, so this could have gone much worse.“Is that all?” Dazai asked. He didn’t wait for answer, deciding in that second both that yes, they were done, and also that his next coin flip would land tails. “I’ll check a book out on transfiguration for over break. And when I come back, McGonagall can tell me all the things I’m doing wrong.”Dazai stood then. He ignored their protests, muted as they were, and showed himself out of Snape’s office.People were such a hassle, he thought. Always trying to make mountains out of molehills!But for all his exasperation, Dazai’s stomach was tied up in sick-feeling knots. His hand was steady—his control of the coin exact as always. But...But he’d left that letter behind when he should have left a gaping hole in his wake. Something had changed about him, hadn’t it? Something sentimental and careless.Mori’s words echoed in his head.Dazai flipped the sickle tails, but tucked it in his pocket without checking. - Later that night, alone in the office, Dazai finally pulled Ginny’s diary back out. It seemed to glow in the harsh moonlight. The shatter of light filtered through stained-glass made the book look like it had been ripped apart in a fit of rage.He turned open the cover.The greeting he’d written that afternoon was gone, now. The page was blank in its wake. It was like he’d never put a quill to it in the first place.Except for the bottom of the page.What was once empty was now stained with ink darker than the darkest of shadows. It still looked wet like it was only just written. But a touch revealed it to be dry. No quill had written this. The words were as much a part of the diary as the broken spine was.A reply.The diary had responded. It was charmed—or it was alive.Egg made an asking sound from Dazai’s shoulder.Printed in curling, black script, the diary had written back:
  ‘I would hardly call this a home.’

  
  

    
      
        
        
          thanks soooo much for reading! : ) happy birthday!next up: the train ride home for winter break.EDIT: no update this week (24-01-17)! i'm taking a little break from writing/uploading : ) happy birthday to everyone in the meantime!EDIT: There will be no update this week (24-01-24). Please do not spam the comment section : ( I hope everyone has a good week.'
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