Witch in Waiting
"So let me get this straight", said the voice on the other end of the phone, "there's this guy, he's a little … how did you put it? … out-wordly, you had sex with him and now you cannot see him for some reason and don't know what's what? – Sorry, sweetie, but I'm not sure I quite understand …"
Elena Horwath sighed into the receiver. Talking to her best friend Katja after months was a fine thing and she hadn't realized how much she'd missed it. However, it was also complicated. There was so much that Katja didn't know yet and Elena hadn't anticipated just how difficult it would make their conversation. "It's hard to explain", she murmured, "he's different from most men. You'd have to meet him."
"I wouldn't mind", Katja replied cheerfully.
Elena pictured the scene – her friend Katja, the psychologist, meeting Severus Snape, the wizard – and she groaned inwardly.
"You see", Elena struggled, "a lot of things have happened since we last spoke. I mean, it's been a long time ..."
"Not exactly my fault", said Katja with only the faintest hint of reproach. "I tried to reach you several times, but you were always out."
"Yes, I've been very busy."
"Busy with uni? Or with your aunt? How is she, anyway? Actually, she didn't sound too bad when I spoke to her on the phone a few weeks ago."
Good god, that was difficult. Elena shifted uneasily on the sofa in her aunt Anna's living room where she had snuggled up and decided – in a mood of loneliness and since she had virtually nothing else to do – to reconnect with her friend. So eager had she been to hear Katja's voice that she hadn't thought through the consequences.
"Anna is fine", she said, glad to be able to impart some good news.
"Fine? I thought she had Alzheimer's?"
Drat. Were there no safe topics anymore? But then, Elena realized, she had started it all.
"Not any longer", she answered eventually.
"Not any longer?" Katja repeated incredulously. "Sorry, sweetie, but no one recovers from Alzheimer's! – You probably mean to say that it hasn't gotten any worse …"
"No", Elena said firmly. "She is healed. Completely. - Actually, he healed her."
"Your mystery man?" A peal of laughter came over the Channel from Innsbruck, Tyrolia, where Katja was doing an internship in a psychiatric clinic. "So he's a doctor?"
"Not exactly."
"Then what is he exactly? And how, pray tell, is he able to cure Alzheimer's? Because if he can really do that, he must be something like a prodigy and I know a few people over here who would really like to talk to him."
"He wouldn't talk to them", Elena explained. "He's a very private person."
"A private person who can cure Alzheimer's but is not a doctor." Katja sounded increasingly mystified.
"I guess you could say he is some kind of healer."
"A healer?" There was a pause. "Listen, Ellie, you didn't get involved with some guru heading a sect, did you?"
In spite of herself, Elena giggled. "Not exactly that, either."
"'Cause that would really make me worry for you. I mean, we all had our esoteric phase when we were teenagers, but …"
"It's nothing like that. Severus … well, he has very special talents …"
"His name's Severin?"
"No. Se-ve-rus."
"Good Lord, poor guy! Where his parents hippies or something?"
"Well. They were certainly not part of ordinary society."
There was a pause. The telephone line crackled. Elena could almost picture Katja, sitting at some desk probably, dressed in white shirt and slacks, her forehead in heavy creases. Quickly, she continued before her friend could ask any more questions.
"Like I said", she prattled on, "he has very special talents. He can heal all sorts of diseases, but he's really a teacher, you see, at a … private boarding school … and he can …", she stopped herself. She'd been about to say 'fly without a broom' (and whenever she remembered how Severus had saved her and himself by flying off a burning tower, a shiver ran down her spine). "He saved my life", she said instead. "He really did."
Another pause. – When Katja spoke again, her voice was guarded. "Well. If that is true, I am grateful to him."
"So am I", Elena said dreamily.
"That being so, it makes me wonder, Ellie."
"Does it?" Elena murmured with no surprise at all.
"Yes. It makes me wonder … what kind of people you got yourself involved with. – Don't get me wrong, but we've always been honest with each other and I'm asking myself why your life needed saving at all …"
"I saved his, too!" Elena said quickly, realizing only then that the remark didn't exactly improve on the situation.
"Well, that's grand", there was a definite note of irony in Katja's voice now, "but it doesn't make it any clearer why …"
"I've changed", Elena broke in. "I'm not … as you used to know me."
"What? … I mean … I'm not sure …"
"Do you remember what I told you once? That I predicted my uncle's death as a child?"
"Yes, I do remember. Things like that happen. Not commonly, but so-called prescient phenomena are well documented in psychology. Experts assume that there are subconscious mechanisms at work, particularly in children who haven't yet learnt to separate conscious and subconscious perception. C.G. Jung was very interested in such occurrences, and although he's a little bit out of date …"
Elena broke in impatiently. "And do you remember how cats always follow me around? I mean, I can go nowhere without a bloody feline at my heels …"
Lux, Elena's black cat who lay rolled up beside her gave off an affronted meow.
"Of course they follow you around!" Katja replied, laughing. "They know that you're ever prepared to spoil them. Cats have a sense for easy victims, they're opportunists, always on the gravy train."
Elena and Lux exchanged meaningful glances. Katja was really a dog person.
"It's more than that", Elena said.
"What d'you mean, Ellie?"
Elena took a deep breath. "What if I told you that I was a witch?"
Another peal of laughter from the other end of the line, although Elena knew her dearest friend well enough to catch a slightly chilly note. "Of course you are a witch! So am I! We don't let any guys bully us, do we? – And I sincerely hope you won't let that Severus guy bully you!"
Not for the first time, Elena marvelled at how people always heard what they wanted to hear and preferred to ignore what didn't fit their world view. Katja had chosen to interpret the word 'witch' as 'feminist' or 'independent woman'. Elena felt an abyss opening up between herself and her old life, her family and friends in Austria and everything she had known. In this moment, when she sorely needed the connection – because she felt lonely, because she wasn't allowed to see Severus and didn't even know who he was right now and how he would be when they saw each other again – the realization was a stabbing pain in her chest.
"Severus doesn't bully me. I mean, he can be a bit grumpy sometimes … he's not really endearing in that sense … but he treats me well."
"Treats you right, you mean", purred Katja. Her voice dropped conspiratorially, probably she wasn't alone. "Good sex?"
"Yeah …", Elena sighed. "But – Katja … when I said 'witch', I meant it."
"Meant what?"
"I can do magic."
No reply for at least five seconds. And then: "Bist du fesch[1]?!"
"I'm not kidding! I am a witch. I have a wand, I can make things move with it … actually, I'm doing it right now!"
In fact, as if proving it to herself, she had picked up her wand – which had arrived this morning by owl, accompanied by a scrap of parchment bearing no more than a hurriedly scribbled Thanks and the initials S.S. (he really was taking the no-contact thing very seriously) – and made the textbooks on the coffee table zoom around frantically. Pity she had no video phone.
"Ellie, honestly! Since we haven't spoken in such a long time, I'd rather we talked seriously."
"I am serious! I'm going to show you when I get back for Christmas, I promise. If you could just believe me for now …"
"Listen", Katja broke in, and there it was again – the chilly note. "My lunch break is over. We had this kid brought in today, seriously psychotic from too much weed, he keeps thinking his bed's on fire …"
"Oh." Elena's heart sank with disappointment, not only because the conversation was cut short, but also because she sensed that her best friend didn't believe her one bit and needed time to digest what she had been told. "How's Jamie, anyway?" she tried to hold on, referring to Katja's new boyfriend, an American.
"He's fine", Katja slurred hastily. "Looks like the parade of narcissist assholes that was my love life is finally over …"
"I'm glad to hear that. Maybe you could come over, you and him? It'd be so good to see you, and to meet Jamie …"
"That's not going to fly any time soon. As an intern, I'm practically a slave. You wouldn't believe the hours I have to put in …"
"Then give me some advice at least!" Elena noticed how desperate she sounded. "'Cause I don't know what to do! Once again in my life, I'm sitting here, waiting for a guy to … well, call … and the waiting makes me maudlin, it makes me …"
"Break the pattern", Katja said firmly. "Seriously, I mean it. If you find yourself in the same situation all over again, do something new, something you've never done before. Take the initiative, for instance. Don't sentence yourself to passivity."
"But …"
"Look, I really have to go." It sounded final. "I'm going to call you in a few days, alright?"
Elena struggled for something to say, but couldn't come up with anything. "Fine", she sighed eventually.
"Bye, sweetie. And … take care, OK?"
There was a click and the connection was cut.
For a few minutes, Elena remained seated on the couch, phone in hand, staring at an elusive point suspended between the coffee table and the TV set. She felt a little anger at Katja's reaction, but that soon waned. After all, her friend couldn't be blamed. If anyone had told Elena a year ago that they were able to do magic, she would have laughed and probably even referred them to Katja or one of her colleagues. The revelation of being a witch was simply too much. It made her aware once more of the distance between herself and her old life.
Break the pattern.
'Easy to say that', she thought gloomily, 'when all I can do is sit here until that damn inquiry is over …'
She slumped back on the couch and issued another drawn-out sigh. The large clock in the corner of the sitting room was ticking away and to Elena, it seemed to beat the rhythm of depression. It was now almost a week ago that she had been discharged from St. Mungo's, the wizarding hospital, where she'd been treated for a serious form of smoke poisoning. Now positively cured, she felt in principle full of energy but had nowhere to shove it. Her aunt Anna had recently gone to visit one of her friends somewhere in the country – since Severus Snape had cured her Alzheimer's, the old lady was enthusiastic about travelling and reconnecting, fully aware that every minute of life had to be savoured – all of Elena's papers and assignments for her university courses had been duly carried out and since she was still on sick leave from the dancing school, that didn't provide any distraction, either. As a result, these days she found herself sitting at home mostly and, well, waiting. Waiting until that bloody hearing at the Wizengamot was finally over, so that she and Severus could see each other again and resume their lessons of magic. Resume something else, as well, maybe. However, at this point Elena was none too sure about that.
She was bored out of her mind. Of course, she had Lux for company, but he was a cat (as much as he might claim that he was really a jinxed wizard) and behaved like one, frequently taking off for hours on end and coming back full to the brim with adventures that she could not share. She'd had some visitors in the last few days, Remus Lupin being one of them, but he had a life and, more importantly, a small son and always seemed very busy. A girl called Hermione Granger had dropped in a few times, as well, first at the hospital, then at Elena's home. Obviously, she had been the one taking her and Severus Snape to St. Mungo's after the lighthouse event, although Elena couldn't remember anything about that. She had liked the young witch well enough – although she considered her a bit of a nerd – but the acquaintance was too recent to provide any true comfort.
And there had been Eddie Hincks, of course, his handsome face aglow and ever so pleased to see her recovered. Had it been up to him, he'd have visited her every day. Elena knew all too well that he fancied her. And so, out of a sense of responsibility, she had cut his visits short on some pretext or other so as not to give him any ideas. Although that had probably been a wise decision, it had also brought her back to square one, sitting at home and waiting.
Having too much time on your hands had serious disadvantages. It made you think too much. It also made you overanalyse things until they got twisted in your mind. During her stay at St. Mungo's, remembering that night in the lighthouse – when Severus and she had thought that they were going to die and had, quite boldly and unexpectedly, indulged in passionate love-making – had soothed her. She had thoroughly enjoyed the shivers that memory had sent through her and it had helped her recover, as well, because she had been eager to get out of that place to see how things would develop. However, there had been no development since, any chance of it forestalled by that damn hearing.
She hadn't minded at first. When Severus had paid her a clandestine visit one night at the hospital, informing her on what was to come and that they must not see each other for a while, it hadn't marred her optimism. It wouldn't take forever, she had told herself, they would see each other again eventually and pick up where they had stopped.
By now, however, doubts had started to creep in. She remembered how he had been during that visit – distant, taking her hand almost reluctantly and only because she'd practically made him do it. What a marked change from the night in the lighthouse, or the next morning when she had come to rescue him – and succeeded against all hope – when he had grabbed her by the neck, kissed her roughly, whispering 'I was angry at you for leaving me' into her mouth. Maybe he'd had second thoughts?
It was actually quite possible. Severus Snape, after all, was probably the most controlled man she'd ever met, not the type at all to allow himself any weakness. Maybe he regretted the exception that he had made that night, in an extreme situation? Maybe he even resented her for goading him into sex? After only six months of being a witch, Elena Horwath still felt that she didn't know nearly enough about the wizarding world. However, her impression was that it was quite a prudish community with morals dating from an earlier age. She, however, was a child of the twentieth century with no qualms at all about indulging in sexual pleasures if she really wanted it. Maybe that had shocked him, at least when he'd come to think about it? Why, for all she knew he might even consider her a slut!
But she wasn't. Sure enough, she'd had her share of pointless sex in life, but that was part of adult experience. With Severus, it had been different, the passion born out of emotion rather than curiosity. But how was he to know that? To him, she might just be another promiscuous Muggle tart (and she knew that he had such notions).
It was bloody ridiculous. She, of all people, feeling guilty about robbing an almost forty-year old man of his virginity! Actually, she should be pleased that she had gotten to him in that way …
Becoming restless again by her thoughts, Elena jumped up from the sofa and walked around aimlessly. It invariably brought her to the kitchen where she gazed out of the window to the dismal little house that was Snape's. There was no sign of life, although she knew that Gilly, the house-elf, must be there, pottering about and cleaning frantically. Once or twice, Elena had considered going over and visiting the little creature. However, she had not done it so as not to get Severus into any trouble. She knew – because both Remus Lupin and Hermione Granger had informed her accordingly – that he was being watched by the Ministry to ensure that he would not contact her. She also knew – from Severus himself – that she might have to give testimony. Yet, to this day no one had contacted her and by now she thought that it might never happen. She was doomed to wait it out.
Suddenly, a jolt went through her. "This can't go on!" she scolded herself, not really aware that she'd been talking aloud. With determined strides, she went back into the living room and over to the stereo. She searched her numerous CDs until she'd found what she wanted and needed. Queen. No one like the late Freddie Mercury to cheer you out of gloom!
It took her a while to get into it, but after five minutes she was dancing madly, shaking, twisting, to the beat of Crazy Little Thing Called Love. In only a short while, she worked up a fine sweat, feeling her mood improve, and not for the first time did she offer up a silent prayer of thanks to whoever had invented music. Lux sat on the sofa and watched her critically, but Elena didn't mind and continued to dance with herself, to Don't Stop Me Now and eventually Fat Bottomed Girls. It did the trick and she forgot the world for a while.
Suddenly, she was startled by a very loud wailing meow. Lux had jumped onto the back rest of the armchair, staring at her adamantly.
"What?" she demanded irritably, panting.
'Didn't you hear?' Lux said in his usual non-verbal manner – Elena had been able to communicate with cats in that way ever since she could remember. 'Someone's knocking.'
She stopped short, stared. "Seriously?"
'No wonder humans have such a bad sense of hearing', Lux grumbled silently, 'since you insist on deafening yourselves with loud music … Get going!'
For a brief moment, Elena froze. She knew only one person who would insist on knocking instead of ringing the doorbell, and that person was none other than Severus Snape. Now suddenly nervous, she combed her hair with flying fingers, then ran for the front door, tore it open … only to be sorely disappointed in the next moment.
Three strange men were standing on the doorstep. They were groomed and wore formal suits. However, the suits looked as if they'd come out of a forgotten suitcase left behind in the 1930s, and by that she knew immediately that her visitors were wizards.
"Yes?" she breathed.
"Ms Horwath? Elena Johanna Horwath?" The man heading the group had spoken. He was also by far the oldest of them, with a hawk nose, piercing grey eyes and a thin thatch of hair plastered across a balding head.
"Yes!" she coughed, still out of breath. Her respiratory system was still a little shaky from the smoke poisoning.
"My name is Ansgard Periwinkle", the man said sternly, eyeing the young woman in her tattered jeans and sweaty T-shirt. "I've come from the Ministry of Magic and would like to talk to you for a minute, if you can spare the time." His voice sounded like something rattling in a tin can.
Elena issued another bout of coughs, but this time it was to mask her discomposure. This was it! The visit from the Ministry Severus had warned her about. "Of course!" she said, a tad too loudly, and stepped back. "Please come in!"
The man stepped gingerly across the threshold, closely followed by his companions. Elena led the way into the living room where the stereo was still blaring "… AND ANOTHER ONE GONE, ANOTHER ONE GONE, ANOTHER ONE BITES THE DUST …". She dashed towards the source of the music and pressed the stop button with trembling fingers. What a marvellous first impression she must leave, especially to people who had experienced quite a lot of dust-biting recently …
"Sorry about that", she sputtered, "I was practicing, you see, I'm a dancing teacher …"
"Ah", said the old man called Periwinkle, seemingly unimpressed.
"Interesting choice of music", said one of the men in his wake. He was small, lithe, with black hair and a well-groomed black moustache, not unlike Freddie Mercury's. His eyes were twinkling, though, and something seemed off about him. It took Elena a few seconds to realize what it was: he looked a little bit like a goblin, particularly the long fingers and nails. The third man appeared to be the youngest, had light brown hair tied in a ponytail, beads of sweat on his forehead and a nervous twitch around his mouth. Elena noticed a marked resemblance with the old man who started to speak in his tin-can voice again.
"May I introduce my assistants to you", he said, and it wasn't so much a polite question than a dry statement of intent. "Mr Finn McVey, my secretary, and Waldemar Periwinkle, whom I am currently training." He looked upon the latter – who was obviously related to him – almost coldly, as if there were no ties whatsoever. Maybe that was his idea of professionalism. "How good of you to receive us, Ms Horwath", he went on, although it didn't sound at all as if he considered her gracious, but rather as if it was the least one could expect. "You must be very busy. Please be assured we won't keep you long."
His stare was so intense it made her flinch. 'Periwinkle … Periwinkle …', she thought, searching her memory, 'where have I heard that name?'
"Won't you … have a seat?" For no reason at all she had developed a hiccup. "Would you like tea? … But, no … I'm afraid I haven't bought any … coffee maybe? Water from the tap?"
Periwinkle sneered slightly. "That's not necessary, Ms Horwath. We are not here to dawdle." He spoke with an authority that was chilling, went over to the sofa and sat down determinedly, his companions choosing the armchairs which left only a rickety chair for Elena. "Do you know why we are here?"
She nodded and dragged the chair nearer to the coffee table. "I've been informed that the Ministry might pay me a visit."
"Informed by who?" The question from Periwinkle came like a whip, intended to catch her off-guard.
She took a deep breath. "Mr Remus Lupin told me", she replied as evenly as she could. "He is an acquaintance of mine."
"Is he." Periwinkle said tersely. Suddenly, he held a pile of papers in his hands, seemingly conjured out of thin air, and rustled them. "Well, ma'am, before we start, might we get some details straight?"
Elena gulped and nodded. 'Here goes …' she thought.
The questioning started innocuously enough and the only thing she had to do at first was to confirm that, yes, she was indeed Elena Johanna Horwath, born on 7th May 1974 in Vienna-Florisdorf, Austria, to Gerhard Michael Horwath, Muggle and mechanical engineer, and Rosemarie Elisabeth Horwath, née Hautzenhofer (Elena had to bite her tongue hard so as not to grin at Periwinkle's pronunciation of the name), Muggle and housewife. She wondered where the man had those details from, but then she remembered that Snape had registered her for an Apparition course with the Ministry a couple of months earlier, which had probably been the point when the data had gone on record. Periwinkle then proceeded to ask her whether she was an officially recorded witch in Austria, and when she said no – because she hadn't yet known she was one when she'd last been home – he cautioned her sternly to make up for this omission as soon as she had the opportunity. "You are practically a rogue witch, Ms Horwath", he said with a piercing glance, "no magical administration likes those, not even that of Austria, I'm sure."
Elena felt that she was already at a disadvantage, something like an illegal agent, and she shifted uncomfortably on the chair. Her hands were suddenly cold and there was a funny fluttery feeling in her stomach. Out of the corner of her sight, she caught an amused twinkle in McVey's very dark eyes and she squared her shoulders, willing herself to sit very upright.
"You know who we would like to talk about today, Ms Horwath", Periwinkle the Older finally said, and he made it sound like a challenge.
It was on the tip of Elena's tongue to say 'Severus Snape' – because she guessed that this was really the direction the men were headed. However, she stopped herself just in time. "Of course", she said with a semblance of confidence, "you want to talk about Pawel Komarek."
Uncomprehending stares answered her.
"There must be a misunderstanding", Periwinkle the Younger stammered, and Elena had the impression that the efforts of those words made him sweat even more.
"It is Pavel Volodimir Leshnikov we wish to speak about", Periwinkle the Older corrected with a hint of dry reproach.
Elena nodded frantically. "Of course", she said, "that's his real name. Not the name I knew him by, though. But we are talking about the same guy." She tried for a reassuring smile in the younger Periwinkle's direction, but merely caught a stern glance by his older relative (father? Grandfather?).
It took the older man some time to assimilate the new information before he continued with his interrogation. "Please, Ms Horwath, explain to us how and under which circumstances you met Pavel Leshnikov."
And so she told them the story how, a few months ago, she had taken on a new assignment at the dancing school, an about forty-year old man, allegedly from Poland and by the name of Komarek, who wished to learn how to dance in one-on-one lessons. She explained how to her he had played the role of Muggle perfectly so she had never suspected that he was really a wizard whose only intention was to use her to get to Severus Snape, her teacher of all things magic.
"You never suspected anything?" McVey interrupted her account, eyebrows quirked.
"Never", Elena said firmly. "He was really very, very good. I mean, I lived as a Muggle all my life, I would have noticed if something had been, you know, off about him. But he was perfect. The clothes, the attitude … he drove a big Mercedes … I mean, a car … he sometimes spoke about his job, claimed that he was a banker in Birmingham, and although I certainly don't know a lot about banking and finance, he seemed to have all the details right, he was absolutely convincing."
"From what we were able to learn from the Bulgarian authorities", snarled Periwinkle, "he and his mother were forced to live among Muggles when he was a child. The country was under a Communist regime then, wizards were persecuted and had no choice but to blend in."
"That explains it then", Elena said with a rueful smile which the hawk-nosed man didn't reciprocate.
"Do you know where he lived?" Periwinkle wanted to know. "If he was living as a Muggle, he would have had a base somewhere, somewhere to keep this Mer … the car."
"I have no idea", Elena confessed. "And I must admit I never asked. He mentioned once, though, that my home was on his way to the dancing school, so I'm guessing Birmingham, since he also worked there … I mean, claimed to work there …"
"We can't be doing with guesswork, Ms Horwath", Periwinkle said doggedly and rustled his papers. "How long had you known Professor Snape at this point?"
"About two months, probably."
"Explain to me how you met him."
So again Elena launched into a story, this time on how she had met Snape, her neighbour, during a crisis with her aunt Anna whose Alzheimer's had taken a turn for the worse last summer, and how Severus had provided her with a potion to heal her. She thought that she was on safe ground there, that it was a good opportunity to paint him as a saviour and healer, but the account didn't seem to impress Periwinkle. In fact, he wrinkled his nose. "Thrusting a magical potion into the hands of a naïve Muggle girl", he remarked coldly, "never mind the Statute of Secrecy."
Only then did she realize her mistake and felt the heat rise in her cheeks. "He only wanted to help!" she claimed passionately. "He did, too, my aunt is completely healed now. – And after all, I'm not a Muggle!"
"You didn't know that then, did you?"
"Not then", she admitted, biting her lower lip.
"And did Professor Snape at any point care to Obliviate your aunt, seeing that she is a Muggle that had experienced magic?"
"No", Elena murmured and then, following a sudden inspiration, added, "he mentioned that he was afraid to upset her mental state by it." It was a complete lie – Obliviating Anna had never even been mentioned – but it rolled off her tongue effortlessly. McVey and the younger Periwinkle exchanged glances, and even the older man had nothing to say and cleared his throat. "Please continue with your story, Ms Horwath."
She did. Told the three men how Snape had found out that she was a witch and had set out to teach her. That account invariably brought her to the attack that she had witnessed in his house, the one in which two thugs called Aubrey and Kerr had put him under a Cruciatus and almost killed him, hadn't it been for her intervention and immense luck. However, Periwinkle didn't appear all too interested in that part, reminding her that it was all on record with the Ministerial Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He was eager to get back to Leshnikov aka Komarek instead.
"When did you finally realize that Pawel Komarek, as he called himself, was not who he claimed he was?"
"When he kidnapped me on Halloween Night", Elena replied and even now, she felt a shiver running down her spine.
"As late as that?"
"I'm not saying I was very clever about it", Elena said darkly. "But that only proves what a superb actor he was."
"Do I understand correctly that Professor Snape never met your … dancing student … before that?"
"No, he didn't. I think they caught a glance of each other once, but that was only very briefly."
"What happened then?"
Elena took a deep breath. She had to watch it now. As evenly as she could, she recounted how Leshnikov had taken her prisoner in a lighthouse, using her as bait. How Snape had come for her, but had been incapacitated by a disc installed on top of the tower, a disc inscribed with Sanskrit letters that blocked out all magic and how in physical contest, Leshnikov had been the stronger and more brutal man by far. Then the cold and lonely night in the lighthouse when they had thought that they were going to die. Of course, she didn't mention the love-making. She did, however, tell them that she had found the Time Turner in the pocket of Severus' travelling cloak while he had been fast asleep.
For the first time, a predatory gleam appeared in the older Periwinkle's eyes.
"So Professor Snape had a Time Turner in his pocket? – Why exactly do you think that was?"
She shrugged. "I believe it was an heirloom. From Albus Dumbledore."
McVey shifted on the sofa and the younger Periwinkle looked troubled.
"Did Professor Snape tell you that?"
"His house-elf told me. I'm yet to get to that point …"
"So you found the Time Turner and used it? How exactly did you know how to do that?"
Elena suppressed a sigh. "I had used it before."
"Indeed?" Now the gleam became almost greedy. "How did that come to pass?"
"Professor Snape let me occasionally use it to catch up with my work load", Elena confessed and tried hard to make it sound bright and innocent, although her nervousness flared up again and made it hard for her to sit still. "You see, I'm enrolled at Birmingham university, in linguistics. I also have to earn money at the dancing school to support my aunt. And then my magical studies on top of that, and me being such a late beginner, anyway … it all became a bit much."
"Why not drop one of these pursuits instead?" McVey had spoken up. His voice was low and had a strange pitch. "Muggle university, for instance?"
Elena realized suddenly that this was the point where she could gain some respect for herself and she made an ill-tempered face, squared her shoulders once more. "Not you, too", she hissed, "Professor Snape said the same thing. You wizards really are an arrogant bunch, you know?!"
Three pairs of very startled eyes stared at her.
"You don't seem to realize that I've been a Muggle all my life", she went on ranting, "that I was on the way of making myself into someone in my world, build a career, ensure that I could someday keep myself. You seem to think that as soon as magic comes into play, everything else is unimportant. But guess what – it isn't! I still don't know whether I can ever be someone in the wizarding world, whether I will be able to find a paid job, because I started so late. I have no one to look after me – and I wouldn't want it – I will have to look after myself for the rest of my life! So don't you think that it would be bloody stupid if I dropped university, now that I've come so far and don't know whether the magical world can provide a future for me? – Hell, I wish you'd all stop and think for a change!"
Silence dropped. Even old Periwinkle's face had gone blank, while the younger one looked slightly sheepish. At last, McVey spoke.
"I'm sorry, Ms Horwath. Maybe we haven't considered your position well enough."
She gave of a – slightly dramatic – sigh. "No one does", she said dismissively, "nor did Professor Snape, at first. However, eventually he came to see my point. Which is why he let me use the Time Turner occasionally. Obviously, there was a precedent. A very bright Hogwarts student who'd taken on too much in her third year at the school. As a result, Professor Dumbledore made the decision to let her have the Time Turner to get through her schedule …"
"Hermione Granger", the younger Periwinkle piped up, looking at his relative almost imploringly, "the one of the Golden Trio. It's a well known fact that she was allowed …"
"Yes, I know", the old man cut him short coldly. "I'm sure Dumbledore thought that he was very clever, and of course he never asked the Ministry for permission. I guess, though, that this gave Professor Snape the idea and made him think he had license …"
"I wasn't a third-year Hogwarts student", Elena broke in, still fuelled by her outbreak, "but an adult. So I think it was quite safe to assume that if Hermione Granger handled the Time Turner responsibly, I might …"
"It is still gross negligence!" snarled Periwinkle. "To give such a powerful piece of magic to a novice!"
"I can assure you that Professor Snape had me learn the Time Turner rules by heart before he let me use it. In fact, I could rattle them off even if you tore me out of sleep. – Do you want me to prove it?" She made an eager face, as if all set to go through the whole set of rules here and now.
Periwinkle the Older sneered. "That won't be necessary, Ms Horwath."
But she was emboldened now. "Also, may I remind you of the fact that if I hadn't known how to use the Time Turner, Professor Snape and I would be dead by now and we wouldn't have this … cosy little interview."
Periwinkle glared at her with narrowed eyes and said nothing. After a while, he cleared his throat. His facial expression changed, becoming once again calculating. "Have become friends, you and Snape, haven't you?"
"I wouldn't say that", Elena replied lightly. "Professor Snape is very professional, you see. After all, I'm only his student."
"Has he ever spoken to you about the past?"
"The wizarding wars, you mean?" In spite of herself, Elena was beginning to enjoy this. Her little burst of temper had miraculously given her the upper hand, upset the balance of power, and she suddenly found it easy to contort the truth without so much as blushing. "Well, he'd answer the occasional question when I asked, but nothing personal. What I know about that time, I learnt chiefly from the Daily Prophet and from what Mr Lupin and Mr Potter told me."
"You know Harry Potter?" Waldemar Periwinkle had spoken and he stared at her with wide eyes, a hint of enchantment in his voice. The older Periwinkle turned his head sharply, silencing him with one of his stares.
"I've met him", Elena said evenly. "In fact, he and his girlfriend took some dancing lessons with me."
"Really?" Ansgard Periwinkle's voice was dripping with sarcasm.
"Really." She replied, voice dripping with boredom while she met his eyes.
"Tell me one thing, Ms Horwath." It was obvious Periwinkle was preparing for a new attack. "Since you seem to be so well informed on the events of the wizarding wars, are you aware of Professor Snape's part in them?"
She gave him a dazzlingly naïve smile. "Of course I know how he sacrificed himself. That he put his life on the line to ensure Harry Potter could defeat Lord Voldemort."
A malicious sneer appeared on Periwinkle's mouth. "Yes, the hero story. But do you also know that Severus Snape used to be a loyal and high-ranked Death Eater? That he provided horrific poisons for their cause? And that he was very probably involved in heinous attacks?"
Elena felt like gulping, but hid it and nodded.
"Didn't that … scare you, Ms Horwath, knowing that you were dealing with a person that used to be a criminal, and on a daily basis, too?"
She forced herself to hold Periwinkle's gaze, tilted her head, while her brain was working overtime trying to assess the man and to find his weakness. She concentrated on her stomach, the place that gives birth to intuition. It was hard to connect to it because her hands felt cold again, the nervousness came back and made her heart pound, so she breathed, willed herself to stay calm. "Are you a religious man, Mr Periwinkle?" she asked finally and in a very soft voice.
The question caught him off guard, but he, too, had marvellous self-control. "I believe I am, Ms Horwath. I also believe that faith plays a far more important role in the wizarding world than it does in the Muggle sphere, at least nowadays, which I find very regretful. Wizards are very much aware who they have to thank for their gift. And as for me, religion has certainly taught me to tell right from wrong." The predatory gleam in his eyes now mixed with one of triumph.
"Good", she replied. "'Cause I was brought up religiously, as well. In fact, I went to a convent the first four years of my school life. Nuns and all that. One of the stories from the Bible that left a marked impression on me was the one of the prodigal son; the bottom line being that God is more pleased by a reformed sinner than a person of lukewarm righteousness. – I'm sure you've heard that story, Mr Periwinkle?"
When another breathless silence dropped, she knew she'd hit the mark. Ever since she had embarked on her magical studies under Snape's careful tutoring, she had noticed that it had done something to her empathic qualities, that she was – in certain circumstances – able to sense what people felt and what the essential parts of their psychological make-ups were. Periwinkle, she had intuited, was in fact a religious man and he set a lot of store by his own righteousness. She knew that her words would not improve on his opinion about her; but at the same time, she also knew that the interview was now at an end, that she had rattled his cage and he had no idea on how to proceed.
When he spoke again, the tin-can voice sounded strangled. "Thank you for that education in religion, Ms Horwath. And thank you for making the time."
"Hey, wait! – Don't you want to hear the rest of the story? How I got Professor Snape and myself out of the lighthouse?"
"That won't be necessary", Periwinkle grumbled and got to his feet, "you have already regaled Mr Remus Lupin with the details, as far as I know, and they are on record. As far as this interview went, we were chiefly interested in details on Mr Leshnikov. And since you were not able to tell us anything new here, for instance as to where is base was, I'm afraid you won't be of any further help to us."
She rose from her chair, gave him an amiable smile. "I'm sorry about that", she said with feigned ruefulness. "But I promise I will contact you if I remember anything."
"I expect no less", Periwinkle replied haughtily, turned on his heel and went towards the front door without so much as a good-bye or looking back. Waldemar Periwinkle scurried after him hastily, only McVey lingered a little, assessing Elena from head to toe. Eventually, he brought forward a little card which he thrust into her hand.
"In case you need to contact us", he explained. "If you remember anything, for instance."
He bowed very slightly, gave quite a mischievous grin – which might also have been ironic – and followed the other men without haste.
"Good day to you", Elena chimed after them, "it's been lovely talking to you!"
As soon as the front door was slammed shut, she went over to the stereo again and indulged in another round of Freddie and We Will Rock You, full blast.
[1] Austrian slang for „Are you kidding me/fooling around?"
