(1938-10-27) Taking the Rap
Details for Taking the Rap
Summary: Douglas tries to take Medusa's punishment for her, and things go far worse…and far better…than anyone might have guessed.
Date: 27 October, 1938
Location: Caretaker's Office, Hogwarts
Related: Sickly Sweets
Characters
PringleDouglasMedusaFlint

Apollyon Pringle is having a wonderful evening. Not only did he finally give the owlery floor its yearly scouring (a cleaning job that will be unrecognizable by tomorrow), but within minutes he is expecting a prized detainee — one of those students that seems to get away with just about anything she likes, and a Malfoy no less. A cruel grin curls his lips as he fills out the preliminary information on his discipline record.

There is a light chap on the door, which when opened reveals a contrite looking Macmillan. "Mister Pringle, sir," he greets, folding his hands behind his back and double checking he's here first with a quick glance around. "Um. I'm here for Malfoy."

At the sound of the knock, Pringle waves his wand to swing the door open. Rising with a grin of predatory satisfaction, it quickly fades to a disappointed scowl when he sees not Medusa Malfoy, but a face he's much more familiar with. Hardly a prize at all, as he expects to see Douglas Macmillan quite regularly. "Where is she?" he growls, as if Douglas had her stashed away somewhere.

"I'm here in her place," Douglas explains, straightening up. "I sent her in here with the chocolates in the first place, so I'm getting the detention instead. Doesn't look good for Flint to have his new Overseer in detention, see?" He even gives the man a grin, despite a slight nervous tic.

Medusa has had hours to prepare herself for what she expects; cruel and unusual punishment. She has braided her hair, worn thick tights so he can't be all pervy and look at her pants if she ends up being hung upside down. Taking a breath she raps her knuckles on the door channeling her uncle's cool demeanor. Maybe she'll even bring up the chair of governors in conversation with the caretaker.

Pringle crosses the distance to Douglas in an instant, staring the boy in the eye from literal inches away. "That's not your decision, Macmillan. Now get out of my office before-…" Then comes the knock, and his savage smile returns. "That'll be your little bird now, won't it." Another slash of his wand opens the door once more for Medusa. "It is true then, Malfoy? Macmillan put you up to your sweet romancin' of me?"

Douglas glances back to the door, setting his jaw. "Look, Pringle, if you touch her, I am going to fucking chin you. I don't care who you think you are, you're just some washed up old codger who sweeps the floor for a living. Malfoy's Magijugend. And you're a glorified fucking sweep."

When the door swings open Medusa walks in, exuding her usual confidence. There is a flicker of surprise in her gaze when she sees Douglas. She steeples her fingers together and brings them up to her mouth. "Why would I want to romance you, Mr Pringle? I told you the truth earlier but you didn't believe me. I don't know who left those chocolates. I saw some boy running away from your office when I arrived." But then Douglas opens his mouth and Medusa reaches out to grab his arm, hissing at him, "What are you doing?"

Pringle has never looks so much like the child-eating beast he is rumoured to me. His grin stretches impossibly wide, baring his teeth as he tilts his head and his neck gives an audible pop. "You just made my evening, Macmillan. You think you've got the stones? Take your poke, then. Go on. You've wanted to for years. Let's have it." At least he seems to have forgotten Medusa for the moment.

Douglas jerks his arm back from Medusa's grip, hand going for his wand as he draws himself up to his full height. "Like it takes stones to beat some old man whose only friend is a mop," he mocks, that tic still there as Pringle's neck pops. "Fuck off back to whatever hole you crawled from."

Medusa pushes the door shut behind her and leans back against it, her mind whirling through the possibilities of how this can be handled. "Yes he is a pitiful creature who gets his jollies from torturing small children." She concedes this truth. "And yes, he is vile to look upon and likely has never found any kind of gratification that didn't involve giving pain to someone else." This too she concedes. "But your valiant defense of me, which while heroic might mean that you can't go to the dance with me and my costume is rather nice." She looks around. "I wonder if my uncle has ever been in here. I wonder what he might think of the marks still on my body from the ropes I was incarcerated with earlier."

Pringle was braced for Douglas to try something. He was hoping for it, in fact. Despite having his own wand in hand, he doesn't bother with a spell. With reflexes like lightning, the Caretaker's hand darts out to snatch Douglas by the wrist, twisting the young man's wand-hand up and at a painful angle. "That was stupid, boy. You think you've spared your girlfriend? Now I just get two of you." His eyes firmly on Douglas, he barks at Medusa. "Malfoy! Find a seat."

And Douglas was ready for Pringle to try spells at him, not to be twisted around like this. He cries out as he folds to try to get out of the arm lock. "You're breaking it! You're breaking it!"

"No," says Medusa, crossing her arms over her chest. She even goes one better and sits on the floor, which is sort of like taking a seat so it is a marginal victory. "I'm not going to be compliant since you intend to use violence anyway and do remember who we are Mr Pringle. We're not some orphaned mudbloods you can get away with breaking the arms of or some half-blood pikie like Higgins."

"Drop the wand," the Caretaker snarls at Douglas, applying a bit more pressure to the wrist. It may not be breaking, but it certainly feels like it will in the hands of a pain expert like Mr. Pringle. Medusa gets a laugh, "You think I give a whit who your uncle is, lassie? You're an idiot if you thought I was goin' to be violent with you, though you're makin' me reconsider. Typical cocky pure-bloods. You think you can spit on the honour of this school and walk away, free as a bird. Not on my watch!"

When the door opens this time, there is no knock. Pringle's attention snaps to, ready to snarl at the intruder, only to find the craggy countenance of Headmaster Flint looking on with a mildly confused scowl. "What is going on here?" he demands in a cold, even tone.

Douglas actually whimpers as the pressure increases on his wrist, losing him all the man points in the world, but the wand drops.

Medusa scrambles to her feet. "Mr Pringle is breaking Douglas' wrist Headmaster." She sniffs and bites the inside of her cheek so her eyes water. "Douglas came to take the punishment I had been given because he knew it was for something I didn't do. All I wanted was to ask him about what the Magijugend could do but he didn't listen."

Flint listens to Medusa, but makes no response, his eyes flicking expectantly to the Caretaker.

Pringle roughly pushes Douglas back against the wall and scoops up the fallen wand, turning to face Flint. "Headmaster. This blighter thought it wise to threaten me for doin' my job. So it put him back in his place. I haven't even had a chance to begin Malfoy's punishment, though she's diggin' herself deeper as we go."

The Headmaster calmly surveys the three of them, nodding slowly. Idly scratching his chin, he takes a few steps into the room, shutting the door behind him to avoid the possibility of eavesdroppers. "I have consulted with Professor Slughorn, and he agrees that Miss Malfoy's loss of house points was sufficient discipline for being in your office without permission. After all, we have no evidence that she was responsible for the rest of it, and surely an Overseer would not lie to you. She knows far better." With every word Flint speaks, Pringle's eyes get wider, and one can almost smell smoke emitting from his nostrils.

Douglas thuds against the wall, rubbing at his wrist with a hiss of pain. "I told you she's Magijugend, Mister Pringle," he insists, screwing up his eyes against the pain. "And that's why I'm here."

Medusa smooths out her robes and says, "I wanted advice from Mr Pringle on how we could encourage the right kind of behaviour while doing as you asked, Headmaster, and staying within the school rules." She doesn't even look at Pringle. This is Medusa Malfoy. "Douglas and I spent some time after lunch discussing a social gathering for the Magijugend. That is when I told him what had happened to me this morning and I believe, being an honourable pure-blood wizard he felt it his duty to protect me."

Flint interjects before Pringle can snarl a retort. "Honourable, yes. But foolish. Being a Magijunde does not entitle one to break school rules, Mr. Macmillan. One hundred points from Gryffindor, and a week of detention. Quite frankly, you are lucky I don't have you expelled for threatening a member of the school's faculty. Do not disappoint me again." As Flint lifts his chin imperiously at Douglas, the platinum Eye of Truth pendant hanging from his neck catches the light, gleaming.

Finally, Pringle gets a word in. "You're letting her off? You know bloody well that she's guilty as sin, and came in here gettin' lippy with me while I was dealin' with her cocky boyfriend!"

Douglas sets his jaw once more, giving Pringle a filthy look. He manages to keep his mouth shut, for once in his life, and just gives Flint a nod, still rubbing his wrist.

Medusa looks up at Flint, her fingers going to her own Eye of Truth which she has been wearing visibly since it was bestowed upon her. When Pringle speaks she doesn't even look at him, just shakes her head sadly. "I would ask, it were possible Headmaster for us to use our detention to better serve the cause by researching great pure wizards in preparation for lectures to the followers of the Truth?"

Pringle gives Pringle a reproachful look, but maintains an even tone. "I have explained my position, and Miss Malfoy's head of house is in agreement. There is no more discussion to be had. Miss Malfoy, I am sure that Mr. Pringle will take you suggestion under advisement. After all, I think we are all aware that studying may be more painful for Mr. Macmillan than many of the devices in this office." Though Flint smirks, there is nothing gleeful about it. He gives Medusa a firm nod, "Let us leave these gentlemen to their duties."

As Flint goes to open the door, Pringle practically quakes with anger. "Is this what passes for discipline at Hogwarts now? It applies to everyone but your pet projects? I'll report this to the governors, if I must."

That earns a stern retort from Flint, who growls back. "Do that, Mr. Pringle. I am certain that Enceladus Malfoy will be quite interested to hear all about this incident." For a moment, the glares between the two most hard-edged men at Hogwarts threaten to shake the castle down. But, at last, Pringle turns his gaze to Douglas, settling for what will undoubtedly be a session of taking out his frustration and anger on the Macmillan boy.

Douglas looks up, giving Medusa an awkward smile and a shrug, flexing the fingers of his right hand to get the feeling back. "Do your worst, Pringle," he responds, with perhaps a little more courage in his tone than in his heart right now, judging by that nervous tic in his cheek again.

"Yes sir." The mention of her uncle's name elicits the faintest of smirks from the Malfoy. That's the thing with being wizarding royalty, they look after their own. Medusa uses the opportunity of the stare down between Flint and Pringle to take a look at Douglas for the first time. She smiles at him and silently mouths the words, 'I love you.' When Flint is ready to leave she follows, head held high and haughty as ever.

Apparently, Flint isn't quite as concerned for Douglas as he is for Medusa, because he doesn't give the boy a second look as he leads the Malfoy girl out. As they enter the hallway, a snarled, "Stupefy!" precedes a flash of red light, and the door slams with an ominous boom.

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