The Gathering: The New Order of Merlin Book 1

73. Greasy Git

       Naps were the nicest invention in the history of mankind. Merlin stretched like a sunbathing cat and lingered in his bed for a while. The clock said that the evening feast was about to start. He had to hurry and eat fast to make it to detention on time. He considered using the 'I'm sick' excuse to get out of it but knew that it wouldn't stick for long, and Snape would only get even more annoying, so he grudgingly got up.

He sat down in the Great Hall with Harry's gang and filled them in on his thieving progress.

"Here's the boomslang skin," he handed it to Hermione who took it with glee. "There was no bicorn horn in the storeroom. Where else could he keep some?"

"There's a locked room inside his classroom. I think there are ingredients in there," she answered.

"Right. I'll check there next."

"So, tonight," Hermione cleared her throat and stirred the food on her plate. "I'm available if you want some tutoring?"

"Sorry, Hermione. I've got another detention with Snape."

"Oh, of course." She dropped her fork, and it sunk into her mashed potatoes. "Whenever you're ready, let me know."

Harry and Ron sniggered at a joke they didn't share. Merlin was hoping to drop the tutoring now that he was on better terms with the gang, but if Hermione was this excited to be a tutor, then he thought it better to extend.

Later that evening, Snape seemed pleased to see Merlin. Of course, he was informed of the "low blood sugar" incident, but Merlin expected an extra-awful job awaiting him.

Snape drawled, "You did not show up yesterday. Do you think your responsibilities exist only when it suits you?"

"I was unconscious, sir."

"I didn't ask for excuses."

Snape gestured at the classroom which was filthy after a full day of messy potion-making. "I want everything spotless, all cauldrons, ladles, tables, and the floor."

Merlin gaped at the classroom with foreboding. So, he was a house-elf for the night. Would he get his own pillowcase to dress in?

"And refrain from fainting here. We wouldn't want you to hit your head and contaminate my classroom with your bodily fluids again. Where you might lack skills at everything else, you appear to excel at bleeding out."

Merlin cleared his throat to stop himself from smiling. He'd made an impression, alright.

He got started, and Snape worked on grading essays—while standing, of course. The cauldrons reeked and soon Merlin recognized what mixture the last class had worked on: the Swelling Solution. His hands were now thrice their size. Snape should have provided him with protective gloves. Ah, but that was the punishment for missing detention.

Oh well, there was no need to suffer. Merlin whispered an incantation to ease the swelling and another one to protect his hands and forearms. He couldn't wait to see Snape's reaction later when his hands were okay. Whenever Greasy Git wasn't looking, and he rarely was, Merlin used magic to continue his scrubbing job while he lazily looked on. By the time Snape finished grading, Merlin was already mopping the floor with casual indifference, whistling an old folk tune.

Snape's lip twitched. "You finished all the cauldrons?"

"Yes, sir. They're sparkly clean."

Snape's gaze lingered on Merlin's hands which were not swollen. Then, he walked up to inspect neatly stacked cauldrons and asked in a monotone voice, "What spell did you use?"