Chapter 294: The Idea of Team-Building
"So when you say 'team‑building', what you actually mean is dragging this many magical creatures into the depths of the Forbidden Forest?"
High over the Forest, on the back of a hippogriff, Snape's mouth twitched as he took in the scene around him.
A flock of hippogriffs flew alongside his. The one nearest, slightly larger than the rest, and gliding more effortlessly through the air, carried two young people on its back. They were sprawled comfortably over the feathered shoulders, playing a game of wizard chess. Unfortunately, both of them were dreadful at it. Watching two hopeless players peck away at each other's pieces was enough to make anyone's head hurt.
Not that this was the main problem.
The main problem was that, in Snape's opinion, Evans had brought far too many "friends" on this so‑called team‑building jaunt.
Evans was not, by nature, an overly cautious person. This was not the sort of wizard who would bring overwhelming force just to steamroll a beginner‑level challenge.
Yet if that were true, how was Snape supposed to explain what he had glimpsed when they released the hippogriffs?
He had only glanced into the case in passing, but that single look had shocked him.
Even through the narrow opening, he had seen several beasts that had no business being anywhere near a wizarding settlement. A Thunderbird. A Chimaera. A Horned Serpent coiled in dark water. And at the very edge of his vision, the horned head of a dragon easing out of the shadows.
He should have realised on the spot. There was no way this boy had gone to all this trouble for a bit of team‑building. Evans and Dumbledore had clearly agreed to do something extremely dangerous in the Forest.
Two of the other hippogriffs were carrying Albus Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel. Each of those names on its own was enough to cause a stir if mentioned in the right circles. Yet here they both were, and on top of them there was an entire case full of magical creatures.
And after assembling all of that, Evans had still gone out of his way to drag Snape along. Just how dangerous was their destination meant to be?
That had definitely been Newt Scamander's case as well. If so, exactly how many "friends" had Evans invited that he had needed to borrow it?
Watching the trees racing by beneath the beating wings, Snape felt strongly that he had boarded a stolen ship and was now too far from shore to get off.
Team‑building with a handful of staff was one thing. Team‑building with this many highly dangerous magical creatures looked more like a plan to scour the deep Forest clean and roast everything they found over a bonfire.
Evans, naturally, showed not a hint of guilt. He moved his queen to capture Sothia's rook, knocking the piece off the board, and launched straight into a smooth explanation.
"Team‑building is when the leader of a group organises a series of non‑work activities for the team… Wait. No one saw that. I take it back. One move undone."
He waved his hand at the board. The toppled queen righted itself and slid back to her previous square. The shattered rook pulled itself together again.
Sothia scowled.
"No. I was about to win. You are not allowed to take that move back."
"Just this once. Next time I'll let you undo one."
He made this promise with great solemnity and continued, cheerfully peddling his nonsense.
"In any case, the point of team‑building is to motivate the group, strengthen cohesion, and get rid of any awkwardness between members." He looked up at Snape with his most harmless smile.
"We are all on the same team, aren't we? Professor Dumbledore is our leader, isn't he? The leader takes the team out for a tense and exciting outdoor activity. How does that not count as team‑building?"
Snape's lip curled.
"At the moment," he said icily, "I am beginning to feel I am not well-suited to this sort of extra‑curricular activity. I believe I would be better off in my dungeon brewing potions. Perhaps I should take my leave."
"You can't do that. You're already here."
Evans laughed, completely unfazed.
"Besides, you know perfectly well how strong everyone is. Nothing is going to happen."
As he spoke, he reached into his pocket and produced an enormous cauldron, then several bulging sacks. With a flick of his wand, he sent the cauldron and the bags drifting through the air to settle neatly on the back of Snape's hippogriff.
Merlin only knew where he had found hippogriffs this large. Their backs were so broad that even with a cauldron and several sacks, there was still room to spare.
The moment he saw the cauldron, Snape felt a cold prickle of foreboding.
Perhaps he had not been invited merely to lend his wand in a fight.
Perhaps he was here as… labour.
Evans's next words confirmed the thought.
"Anyway, Head of House, look. I 'accidentally' came across a huge haul of ingredients for restorative potions and healing draughts over the last couple of days. And a good lot of dittany as well."
"It will take us a full day to reach our destination. We'd only be sitting around otherwise. Why not brew a few potions on the way and keep your hand in? Don't worry, the ingredients are all mine. You don't have to pay for anything."
Snape's mouth twitched again as he stared at the cauldron.
So that was why Evans had gone out of his way to invite him.
In the wizarding world, every fast‑acting healing potion came with a short shelf life. At the outside, they lasted two weeks, and from the moment they left the cauldron, their efficacy began to drop. Within a day, they were down to half strength.
If you wanted your emergency medical supplies at peak power when you expected trouble, the best solution was to bring a potioneer and have them brew the potions shortly beforehand.
Which made him, very clearly, the potioneer in question.
He ground his teeth, glaring daggers at Evans.
He had known from the start that every word from the boy's mouth was a lie.
Team‑building, bonding, friendship. What Evans really wanted was a convenient potions mule.
Snape briefly considered appealing to Dumbledore. One glance at the older wizard, though, killed that idea on the spot. Dumbledore was perched comfortably on his own hippogriff, watching the exchange with lively interest.
There would be no help there. If Snape opened his mouth, he would not get justice; he would just give that mischievous old man more material to enjoy.
He should count himself lucky if Dumbledore did not join Evans in trying to talk him round.
Snape exhaled slowly and closed his eyes, forcing his temper down. It took several minutes before he felt calm enough to look properly at the cauldron and the sacks of ingredients.
He gave a short, cold snort and drew his wand.
Fine. He had known before he set out that Evans was up to something. If all that was required of him was a few batches of potion, that was already better than some of the scenarios he had imagined.
And if nothing else, this unexpected work broke up what would otherwise have been another desolate Christmas.
Evans's voice cut cheerfully across his thoughts.
"Oh, and do try not to singe the hippogriff's feathers, will you, Head of House? The one you're riding has a temper. If you annoy it enough to knock down your wind shield, that glorious mane of yours is going to—"
"Silence. Get away from me."