Severus held his nose and leaned back under the surface of his oversized, herb-scented bath. He held his breath for twenty seconds and then shook his head to disperse most of the shampoo from between the fine strands of his hair. As he resurfaced, he used both hands to push his hair back. Taking his wand from the bath's side, he was using an Aguamenti Spell to rinse away the last of the suds when he heard the first cry of alarm.

He instantly climbed from the bath, grabbing a hunter green towel from the neatly folded stack on the shelves and wrapping it around his hips. "Infernal Gryffindors!" he muttered under his breath as he passed through his sitting room. With a well-practiced swivel of the wrist and a flick, he Transfigured the towel into a full set of robes and footwear as he walked down the hallway. When he stepped through the disguised doorway from his quarters, he looked every inch his usual sartorial self, except for his slicked back hair.

A glance in that direction revealed a huddle of older pupils at the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room. "Back inside and close the door!" he barked. "If there is anything that concerns you, I shall inform you upon my return."

He strode toward the entrance hall at a brisk walk, his eyes checking every corner and crevice as he approached. He slowed as he neared the top of the stairs, taking care not to lose his footing on the stone chips that littered the staircase and the floor above. With luck he would be able to impose a hefty points deduction on the miscreants for destruction of school property, and possibly even a detention or three if Potter were involved. The boy was an arrogant little liar with no respect for authority. Dumbledore hadn't even allowed Severus to settle Draco in the hospital wing before he swooped in to make it clear that, having committed an assault so grievous it amounted to attempted murder, just like his godfather, Potter would get off practically scot free. The old man's continued indulgence made the brat believe he was untouchable, and while Severus had no definitive proof as to how the boy had come to cast a dark spell known to few others, or how he was suddenly so improved in Potions class, he could ensure Potter suffered the full force of any penalties were he involved in this destruction.

Severus emerged from the archway, immediately taking in the back of the winged statue just feet away as well as the trail of bloody droplets that led up the marble stairway to the upper floors.

He scanned the centre of the stairwell, unable to see the precocious Miss Granger but quickly spotting the youngest Weasley boy.

The boy looked down into the space below, his wand trained on some opponent only he could see. The right side of his face was a mask of blood, but more startling still was the boy's look of wide-eyed unblinking horror.

Rushing footsteps from above were followed by Minerva's brogue. "Mr Weasley, what is the meaning of this commotion?"

Both boy and man turned instinctively to the source of the voice.

Minerva peered over the banister, dressed in a red tartan dressing gown with her black hair a loose curtain to the middle of her back.

Severus felt a touch on his sleeve, no heavier than a strong breeze. The world around him blurred into swiftly moving, abstract shapes. His stomach swooped as if he had cartwheeled off a cliff. His inner ear told him up was a concept as meaningless as north at the magnetic pole, and vertigo sent him tumbling forward onto his knees, his hands clutching at the damp grass on which he rested, as if his grip alone could stop him drifting off into space.