Author's Note: My apologies for the long wait between chapters. It's been a busy month. Thank you for all your reviews and encouragement. Enjoy…

Chapter 12: French Farce and Familiar Faces

Go ahead, push your luck
Find out how much love the world can hold
Once upon a time I had control
And reined my soul in tight

Well the whole truth
Is like the story of a wave unfurled
But I held the evil of the world
So I stopped the tide
Froze it up from inside

And it felt like a winter machine
That you go through and then
You catch your breath and winter starts again
And everyone else is spring bound

And when I chose to live
There was no joy, it's just a line I crossed
I wasn't worth the pain my death would cost
So I was not lost or found…

-- Part 1 of "After All,"

a song by Dar Williams

For most of the staff, the next day—September first—flew by, because there was so much work to do before the students arrived at 6:00 pm. For Adelaide Mayhem, however, the hours dragged on, because she knew that at the end of the day, when the Sorting Feast was over, she would get to have her first strategy session with Snape.

She, Remus and Sirius had each grabbed a quick breakfast in the Dining Hall and had met up in her classroom at 9 am, as promised. Remus seemed on edge all day, particularly whenever Addy got near him. Sirius was groggy and quiet, and Addy was distracted, checking the clock every 2 minutes, as the miniature Hogwarts express made its way around the perimeter. At times, she could swear it was going backwards. They worked in silence for the most part.

At around 2pm, with four hours to spare, they were done. Relieved, Addy smiled and hugged them with deep, heartfelt gratitude. She thought she felt Remus recoil when she hugged him, but she waved the thought away, attributing it to nerves.

"I really can't thank you enough. I will have to figure out some way to repay you both for this," she said. Sirius was too tired to comment, so he let that one go by.

Remus had slept fitfully and hadn't been feeling well all day, so he went to take a nap. Sirius was heading into Hogsmeade with Hagrid. They were going to pick up a few supplies in town, before greeting the students at the platform. He wanted to be there—in the form of Padfoot, at least--to say hello to his Godson, Harry.

While she worked, Addy's mind had been plotting strategy, although not the kind designed to overthrow Voldemort. While not exactly spoiled, she had grown up surrounded by ambitious Death Eaters, who had instilled in her the belief that no desire was unattainable, no goal too lofty. She had been taught that if she wanted something, she should go out and get it.

And right now, what she wanted was Snape.

She didn't understand it and couldn't explain it. She simply found him magnetic, found herself drawn to him, and had a persistent desire to know more of him. Lots more.

So she had set about figuring out how to get through to him. She knew that pleading and needing and making a pest of herself was not the way to do it. Instead, she came to the conclusion that a little indifference, a little chase, was quite possibly what was needed.

Yes--she would utterly ignore him for the rest of the day, avoid him in fact. This had the added benefit of denying him any more chances to call off the evening's session. So despite her great hunger to see him, she resolved not to pay him any notice until their after-dinner meeting.

Instead, she used the time to better acquaint herself with the castle and the grounds, and refocus her energy on the tasks at hand. Walking always helped her think, and with the arrival of the new month, the intense heat had broken, giving way to a glorious, sparkling day that was just starting to feel more like Autumn and less like Summer.

She gave herself a long tour, strolling from the lake, to the Forbidden Forest, back around Hagrid's hut and out to the Quidditch pitch. Then she made her way back up to the castle. Desperately needing to orient herself, she started at the main hall and followed a path that encompassed dormitories, offices, classrooms and towers. There were enough side corridors and hidden chambers to keep one exploring for weeks, but her cursory tour would have to suffice for now. And it did, indeed, give her a greater sense of comfort with the place.

As she strolled down a corridor that had classrooms on either side, taking mental notes on which lessons were taught where and by whom, she heard familiar, unseen footsteps heading her way from around the corner ahead. Recognizing them as Snape's aggressive gait, she quickly reviewed her options: casually saunter past him seeming lost in thought, or duck into the classroom just to her left. Telling herself that the casual saunter seemed a little advanced for her first move, she chose the practical—some would say cowardly—route, and ducked.

She hid in the empty classroom, her back pressed against the door, listening breathlessly for his footsteps to pass. For a moment she worried that she hadn't been quick enough and that he'd caught a glimpse of the tail end of her robes. But he walked by without hesitation. Addy cracked open the door, looked up and down the hall, heaved a sigh of relief and congratulated herself on her first evasive tactic. When she was sure he was clear, she continued on her survey of the castle, feeling quite clever and not the least bit foolish. Well, maybe a tiny bit foolish.

When she was done, she popped into her office for some tea, relishing the waning period of quiet before the student body descended on them. Addy took her new role as teacher as seriously as she did her role as a spy, and felt that she could make a strong contribution to their cause by firmly preparing her students for the dangers they would face in the world outside. So she fussed over her classroom a bit more, adding several more assignments to her course plan. She knew she wasn't going to be popular, but she was there to sharpen their minds and skills, not to make friends. When she was finally satisfied, she sat down to write an outline of all the information she needed to cover with Snape later that night, happily humming to herself.

As soon as she opened her ink jar, her sleeve fell into it, staining her outer robe. When she stood up, she splattered even more ink down the front. Cursing her own clumsiness, she removed the robe and laid it out on the couch, performing a cleaning spell, before sitting back down again to write. Several minutes later, someone knocked on the door of her office with a single, sharp rap. 'That must be him,' she thought. 'Who else would knock like that?'

***********************

Snape had been sitting in his dungeon classroom, wondering what she was up to. He hadn't seen or heard evidence of her all day. By the time he'd arrived at breakfast, she, Remus and Sirius had already eaten and left. All day he sat there, with nothing else to do, drumming his fingers on his desk and staring at the closed door. He expected her to show up at any moment with some question or favor she needed of him, or at least to check in just to make sure they were on for the night, an occasion for which he was ready with his excuse du jour. When the hours passed and she hadn't shown up, he told himself that she must either be goofing off or had gotten herself lost somewhere in the castle and couldn't find her way back to her own classroom. So, with an exasperated sigh and roll of his eyes, he had set out to locate her. He had, after all, promised Dumbledore that he would act as her mentor, and he didn't want to let his Headmaster down.

First he checked her classroom, expecting to find the three cohorts lazing about. The door was closed and no answer came to his knock, so he opened it and poked his head in. Not only were they not there, but the room was immaculate and looked impeccably prepared. The troll model that Addy had finally mastered was impressive, and her board was covered from top to bottom, wall to wall, with notes and diagrams on conjuring a patronus. Each desk was piled high with textbooks and assignments. Snape grinned with relish, imagining how the students would feel when they saw THAT waiting for them.

He then searched all over the castle, with still no sign of her. Puzzled, he headed back to his dungeons, passing her classroom once more, and noticed that the door was now ajar. He looked inside, only to find the room empty and silent once again. He was about to leave when he thought he'd heard the faint scratching of quill on paper, and turned back to check her office.

When no reply came to his single rap on the door, he hesitated a moment, his hand toying with the doorknob. Then he turned it, and let himself in.

Her office was also empty, yet he could swear he smelled fresh ink. And there was Addy's outer robe, laid out on the very same couch where they had sat the day before, when some kind of understanding had passed between them.

"Addy?" he called.

******************************

When she'd heard him knock, she froze, hoping he would just go away. Then she saw the doorknob to her office start to turn. Quick as a flash, she'd grabbed her ink jar and quill and had ducked under her desk. She had made up her mind to avoid him, and so avoid him she would.

From her crouched hiding spot, Addy could see Snape through a crack in the wood. She watched him look around her office, saw his face screw up as though he recognized the scent of something. Then she saw him walk over to the leather couch. 'Damn…my robe!' she thought, and once again cursed her clumsiness. Hardly daring to breathe, she wondered what he would think if he found her here, hiding under her own desk in her own classroom.

Then she saw him reach out to the couch and pick up a corner of her robe. At first she couldn't tell if he held it scornfully, or tenderly. A moment later, her eyes widened as she saw him lift it to his face, and breathe in its scent—her scent!--while the fingertips of his other hand unconsciously caressed the arm of the couch. His back was to her, making it impossible to see his face, and she yearned to switch position so she could see what kind of expression he wore. Suddenly, he gripped the fistful of fabric he held, crumpled it in his hand and threw it violently back down onto the couch.

He called out her name again, this time sounding agitated.

"Adelaide?"

Addy held her breath. When no answer came, he turned and walked out of the office, closing the door quietly behind him. She waited for a few seconds longer before emerging triumphantly, rubbing her aching knees.

He had come! He had come looking for her. He could tell himself whatever lies and excuses he needed for why he came, but the important thing was that he had sought her out. 'If all my plans go this well,' she thought with a dubious laugh, 'we'll have Voldemort in Azkaban by Christmas.'

*************************************

She waited awhile until the sounds of him had long since disappeared. Then she slipped out of her office and scampered up to her chambers, a ridiculous grin decorating her face.

With about 45 minutes to get ready, Addy decided to slip into a nice hot bath. The enormous tub in her private bath had been calling her name since she'd arrived. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a relaxing soak. As the room filled with steam, Addy disrobed and her mirror gave her some friendly advice on a fragrant, tension-relieving bubble charm.

"Thanks," she said to the mirror. "That's a nice touch."

"That's what I'm here for," came the reply from the glass.

She eased her body into the water and let the heat and bubbles and scent do their work. As she soaked, visions of Snape popped persistently into her head. She watched him—over and over in her mind—fingering the fabric of her robe and breathing in her scent. How she wished she'd been inhabiting that robe at the time! She also visualized those long fingers caressing her own arm instead of the arm of the couch.

As she imagined his touch, she felt her body respond—her breath getting shorter, her nipples getting tight, and an appetite welling up deep and low inside her. She ran her fingers over her face, her neck, her lips, her tongue. Then, groaning as she imagined they were his hands and not her own, she ran them across her breasts, circling her hardened nipples. She already knew the roughness of his fingers, and thought about how they might feel pinching and teasing her. As her hands brushed down her belly, through her triangle of curls down to the soft, waiting spot between her legs, she sucked in her breath, aching for his touch.

She would have liked to stay longer and see where this path led her, but there was the small matter of the Sorting Feast and the official school-year kickoff to attend to. And she would be damned if the she'd let Time catch her off guard again! So she reluctantly withdrew herself from the tub, dried off and got dressed. She did the best she could with her curls and set out.

**************

Addy thought that she was getting pretty well acclimated to the grandeur of Hogwarts, but when she reached the Great Dining Hall, she realized that the castle still had plenty of amazements in store for her. Her mouth agape, she gazed around the room in sheer delight. The beauty and majesty of the vast hall, decked in the four school colors and banners, topped anything she had ever seen.

It was all so different from the dark world in which she'd grown up. There had been riches, of course. Voldemort surrounded himself with excess, indulgences, and perverse luxuries of all kinds. But there was something entirely different about the atmosphere at Hogwarts. It was grand, not grandiose. It exuded hospitality, tradition, warmth, and pride of history. There was a refreshing simplicity in the way the decorations mirrored the natural world outside, right up to the enchanted ceiling through which an otherworldly sunset flared.

As she approached the staff table up the center aisle, she saw that only a few staff members were currently seated: MacGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, Dumbledore, and Snape. 'Good,' she thought. 'Another opportunity to ignore him." She strode confidently, looking everywhere except at him.

Dumbledore had had a devil of a time trying to decide where to place her at the staff table. He was, of course, aware of the tension between Addy and Snape, but he also knew that she would need Snape's help and guidance. There were also the students to consider, several of whom were children of known Death Eaters, particularly Draco Malfoy. He knew that every nuance of Addy's presence would be dutifully reported back to "The Compound," so it should not appear that Addy and Snape were working too closely together, for Voldemort was a jealous and paranoid creature who feared collusion and loved divisiveness among his followers. It would be crucial that she strike just the right balance in her appearance of loyalty. Snape had mastered it, and Dumbledore hoped that Addy would learn from him. He prayed that this would be a skill they could both permanently retire someday.

So, he was faced with the question: should she be near him, or far from him? After long consideration, he determined that she would learn and gain more from sitting beside him, and the two would simply have to make a periodic show of despising one another for the benefit of their clandestine audience.

That decision now led Adelaide to gracefully situate herself next to Snape, secretly thankful that some of the heady scent of her bubble bath lingered on her skin. He looked quite stately in his fresh black robes emblazoned with the Slytherin crest, the silk-coated buttons of his black coat peeking out at his neck and wrists. Despite her fascination with those buttons and the intrigue of where they led, she immediately turned away from him and towards Professor Sprout, who was seated to her left, and with whom she was quickly engaged in a discussion of healing herbs, both magical and muggle. Yes, Addy was nothing if not disciplined.

Snape couldn't help but overhear and would have liked to join the conversation, since it overlapped greatly with his area of expertise. But he had a strict policy against friendly chatter with the other staff members, particularly at mealtimes. It was too distracting, and when the students were around he needed to be perpetually on guard. This self imposed isolation was simply another one of the many sacrifices to which he had committed himself.

He tried to get Addy's attention to suggest that she follow suit and focus, but she had her back to him and was offering no openings. Addy chatted with Sprout, hoping that Snape was listening, as she was quite an expert on herbs. The rest of the staff gradually arrived and took their places. Poor Remus and Sirius were dining together in the kitchens below, since their presence at the school was top-secret. Addy hoped that Remus was feeling better, and made a mental note to visit him sometime later that evening.

She was in the middle of a fascinating discussion of lotus root with Professor Sprout when she first heard it—a low, far-off rumble, like a herd of many creatures on the move with great purpose. Seconds later, the doors of the Dining Hall flew open, and the room flooded with the exuberant vitality of youth. Wave after wave of students poured in—all colors and shapes and sizes—greeting one another with joyful abandon. As young people were wont to do, they hugged, smiled, fought and cried. They lived a whole life in one minute, as though this singular moment were all that mattered, and tomorrow was a world away.

This grand display of unfettered emotion took Addy's breath away, yet she struggled to maintain an outward façade of detachment, for she knew that from this point forward, the many eyes of Voldemort would be watching her for any sign of weakness. Snape discreetly checked on her from the corner of his eye, and was grudgingly pleased to see that she had appropriately shifted her composure.

They saw Draco enter with his thugs, and Addy was dismayed to note that he already had an entourage of sycophants. Draco recognized her and had obviously been informed of her new role as Voldemort's spy. The Jones family had been frequent (if reluctant) dinner guests of the Malfoys, since Lucius was perpetually sucking up to Addy's father, who was Voldemort's closest friend and advisor. Her father couldn't stand Lucius, but Voldemort encouraged Iscarious to gain Malfoy's trust so that they could both keep an eye on the shifty bastard. Addy had known Draco since he'd been born, and had watched as his parents had spoiled and ruined him. She even suspected that at one time, the young boy had had a crush on her.

When their eyes met, Addy gave Draco a sneer-like smile and a slight nod, which she hoped was seen and noted by all. He seemed quite pleased at this recognition, and although it hardly seemed possible, he puffed himself up even more as he and his posse took their seats.

Then Addy turned her attention to the boy everyone was always curious to meet: Harry Potter. She tried to catch casual glimpses of him and his friends. Here he was, this lanky young man with a mop of unruly hair covering the scar which marked the day her life had turned upside down. She could hardly believe that this gentle and charming looking boy was the same figure she'd been taught to regard as evil personified.

Dumbledore waited patiently while the returning students released some of the pent up emotions from the pressure cooker of their teenage psyches, and then gave the signal to MacGonagall to bring in the First Years. The Sorting began and Addy noticed that while Snape clapped politely for each new Slytherin, his eyes scanned the new student intensely, looking for clues as to what kind of Slytherin this child would become, and how he or she should best be handled.

When the First Years were finally sorted, Dumbledore made his usual ominous opening announcements, followed by the traditional welcoming toast. This year, he paraphrased a quote by a famous muggle writer, although he doubted anyone would recognize it as such. Raising his glass, his voice magically amplified, he intoned:

"Here's to aristocracy. Not an aristocracy of power, based upon rank and influence, but an aristocracy of the sensitive, the considerate, and the plucky. It's numbers are to be found in all races and classes, and all through the ages, and there is a secret understanding between them when they meet. They represent the true wizarding tradition, the one permanent victory of our queer race over cruelty and chaos. Thousands of them perish in obscurity, a few are great names. They are sensitive for others as well as for themselves, they are considerate, without being fussy, their pluck is not swankiness, but the power to endure, and they can take a joke."

Then he took his seat, affecting a mysterious, knowing look, and plunged his fork into the platter of sausages in front of him.

Addy had to suppress her delight at Dumbledore's toast, and again at the gorgeous mountains of food that piled themselves in front of her following the Headmaster's remarks. Although her heart leaped, she mimicked Snape and maintained a look of utter ennui. A fleeting question passed through her mind: did Snape share any of these inner joys and wonders? If she could mask them effectively, perhaps that's what he was doing too?

Just as she was about to take her first bite, the doors were once again flung open, this time by a harried looking Hagrid, who marched a disheveled boy up the center aisle, until they stood directly below Dumbledore. The boy was quaking and there was mud all over his Hogwarts robes. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled brightly as the room went silent. All eyes (including Addy's) were on Hagrid and his charge as Dumbledore arose. Out of the corner of her eye, Addy could detect a look of barely repressed glee on Snape's face, and wondered what it all meant.

Dumbledore lifted a furry eyebrow and peered down through his half-moon spectacles. The poor boy swallowed hard. He was a picture of utter misery, and Addy's heart went out to him in his terror.

Since the boy was clearly unable to speak, Hagrid started the explanation.

"'Is toad jumped out er the horseless carriage on the way up 'ere," reported Hagrid. "'E jumped out after it, an' I jumped out after 'im. We bin lookin' fer that toad fer nearly a half an hour, sir. Found 'im, though, we did, over by the lake, o' course."

"H-h-h-headmaster, s-s-s-sir," stammered the boy, arousing a chorus of snickers from the Slytherin table. "I was a-f-f-fraid he would starve to death out there on his own. He's not very b-b-bright and he's not good at f-f-finding his own f-f-f-food."

This inspired outright guffaws from the Slytherins, and a few of the more mean-spirited students from other houses. Addy was utterly charmed by the boy's sweetness and innocence, but knew she had a role to play. So, although she would have liked to go and knock a few Slytherin heads together, she masked a compassionate smile with a look of irritation at this cloying interruption of her meal. That was, of course, exactly how Snape appeared.

"Is Trevor unharmed?" asked Dumbledore. Addy was impressed that he knew the toad's name.

"I think so," said the boy, gently stroking his pet.

"Well then, perhaps the adventure did him some good. Thank you, Hagrid, for your help in finding our audacious amphibian friend, and for escorting him and his owner to dinner. Neville, you must keep a sharper eye on that intrepid toad of yours this year. Now, take a seat, Mr. Longbottom, and get yourself some dinner, before it all disappears."

Longbottom!!!

Addy nearly dropped her fork with a clatter at the mention of the name. This was a name she knew, a name she recognized from her youth. She had remembered it all these years partly because she'd found it to be such a strange name when she first heard it, but also because it had been such a strange day. Although it had been nearly 15 years ago—not long before Falling Day—she could remember the occasion as though it were yesterday. The memory sucked her into a different time and place, back to a day when she'd had a different name, and little comprehension of the events that swirled around her.

It had been morning, and she was in the family drawing room, a vast, ornate space full of ancestral relics. Heavy velvet curtains kept the room in perpetual gloom, and it smelled a bit like decaying paper. Yet Addy loved this room…she had played here as a child, sword-fighting with pirates one day, the next riding in to rescue her dolls from cruel witch-burnings.

But it had been a long time since she'd had the luxury for childish games. She'd awakened early to work on an advanced curse her father was trying to teach her. She was almost 18 and a very strong practitioner of Dark Magic—a young Master, some might say—yet this curse had been giving her trouble since she'd started learning it. Her father had supplied her with a cage full of one hundred black beetles on which to practice, yet she was going through them at an alarming pace, with little progress to show for it. Her father had been away on a mission, and was already overdue. Addy knew he'd be terribly disappointed if, upon his return, she had not yet mastered her assignment. She paged through her father's notes, reading them again and again to discern what she was doing wrong.

The curse was Crucio, and it was the most difficult and powerful one her father had taught her to date. She'd learned everything she knew from him, and his pride and approval were essential to her—she craved them more than food or water.

She knew that her "victims" ought to shudder in spasms of excruciating pain, but that never happened. Instead, she always achieved one of two results—either they would scuttle away unharmed and Addy would have to retrieve them from the far corners of the room, or they would simply die on the spot, in an instant.

She was practicing frantically, trying slight modifications in her inflection and pronunciation.

"CRUcio!"

"Cruci-OH!"

"Cruc-EE-oh!"

Yet beetle after beetle inexplicably managed to escape a painful fate. Addy had reached the height of her frustration, when she heard the front door bang open, and her father entered, swearing loudly.

"Damn Ministry! Those damn bloody Longbottoms! They can very well rot in there for the next hundred years. Serves them right, the bloody fools!"

The last thing Addy wanted was to encounter her father in a dark mood like this, especially when she had no news of progress with which to cheer him. She quietly began packing up her notes, wand and beetles to take them upstairs to her room. As she sought out some lost critters who'd retreated under the couch, she heard her father banging around the kitchen. Pots and china went flying and crashing, as he ranted to her mother, who tried to calm him.

"They wouldn't give it up, Artesia. I've never seen such damn fools in my life as those Longbottoms. I tried everything I knew…everything I could think of," his voice boomed.

Her curiosity got the best of her, and Addy peered through a crack in the door that led to the kitchen. She saw her father storming around the room, her mother desperately trying to lure him into submission with a large snifter of firewhiskey.

"He'll understand," said her mother, soothingly yet unconvincingly.

Addy heard her father give a derisive snort, and she knew he was right. Voldemort did not simply "understand" when one of his wizards failed in an assignment, if that was indeed what had happened. Even though her father held a special, esteemed place in Voldemort's inner circle, comparable to none other, there would still be punishment for failure. Addy grew worried, and listened in more carefully.

"Nothing worked," he raged. He put his face inches from her mother's and enunciated, "No-thing!"

"Was the baby there?" asked her mother, turning away from him.

"No, he was not! And that certainly didn't make things any easier for me. Wait till I get my hands on Malfoy so I can 'thank' him for his background research!"

Whoosh! The fire blazed as he hurled his glass—firewhiskey and all—into the fireplace.

"I did gather, or rather suspect—no thanks to Malfoy—that the baby was sent away to live with his dear grandmama," her father continued. "We'll find them, and we'll get rid of them, but it's unlikely that the old woman knows anything. The Longbottoms couldn't have been THAT stupid."

"Well, how did it end?"

"I tried everything—every trick in the book, for three days--but no amount of pain or torture would get them to speak. Finally, I was heavily into Crucio—it was my final effort, and I was sure they would break. I didn't think anyone could withstand that, Artesia. I've been working on my technique, and with my test subjects I've been able to play their pain like a finely-tuned instrument. Total mastery…"

Addy swallowed hard as his voice trailed off. For one thing, there was a disturbing gleam in her father's eyes that she had never noticed before. He was rubbing his thumbs along the tips of his fingers, as though longing to feel the power of Crucio right there and then. And his voice sounded funny. He was talking about Crucio almost the way one would talk about a…a …lover. Addy shuddered involuntarily.

The other thing that concerned her, as she heard her father's words and thought of her own efforts with her beetles, was that she hadn't really taken into account the pain she could cause with this powerful new curse she'd been studying. Up until then, she had only wanted to impress and please her father, and she simply didn't think of the consequences. But for the first time she thought about what she was actually doing, and although they were only beetles, she realized she felt sorry for them. Addy had always loved animals of all kinds…even bugs…and she really didn't want to hurt them.

Her father quickly snapped himself out of his reverie, and continued his account of the evening's work:

"But these Longbottoms just took it. They screamed, they bled, they convulsed, they cried out in pain, but they would not leak a word of what they knew. Not one bloody word. They just stared at one another until their eyes glazed over—first the wife, then the husband. I believe I actually saw a smile on his face when he saw his wife slip into madness."

Then her father grew silent. He was staring into the fireplace, shaking his head from side to side, sipping from the fresh glass of liquor his wife had provided. His hand worked compulsively over the fresh beard that had sprouted during his mission.

Addy could tell that her father was shaken. In his world, things were black and white. If something was supposed to work, it worked. He was one of the most talented and powerful wizards in the world, and there was no way an ordinary wizarding couple like the Longbottoms should have been able to stand up to him. But for some reason they were, and to Iscarious Jones, the implications of these events were bigger than just this one failure. He took it as an ominous sign…as though the world were turning upside down, and this act of defiance—which should have been impossible—portended bad things to come.

*****************************

An elbow in her ribs snapped Addy out of the memory. It was Snape's. Then came his voice, hissing in her ear.

"Stop staring."

"What?" she said, never taking her eyes off Neville, who had taken his seat across from Harry.

"You're staring at the Potter boy. Stop it."

"I'm not staring at Potter."

"Yes you are," growled Snape, "and the whole school can see. You should look smug and detached, like a proper Death Eater."

Addy looked down at her plate and said, "I wasn't staring at Potter. I was staring at Longbottom."

"Well stop it."

Addy knew he was right. The memory of that night had overwhelmed her briefly, yet she knew she didn't have the luxury of slipping, even for a second. It was just that the final piece of an old puzzle had slipped into place, and she could now see the whole, ugly picture of what her father had been talking about in their kitchen that night, so long ago.

Of course, neither he nor her mother would tell her. Artesia had managed to calm him down, and he had gone into the drawing room to greet his "Addy Lady", as he always did, with a big hug. He had asked her if she hadn't become even more beautiful while he'd been gone, and she'd teased him, telling him that she was too old for such questions. Then he patiently helped her work on Crucio until she had mastered it, and was able to send black beetles into fits of torment with a word and a wand. Addy had never been so unhappy about success in her life, yet she hid her sadness and concern, and accepted her father's praise openly. She would soon learn that that day had opened the gate to a whole new era of her life and her practice of the Dark Arts.

As she tried not to look at Neville, she sat and let the realization sink in--that this sweet, awkward boy had been orphaned 15 years ago at the hands of her father. Well, as good as orphaned—Iscarious had driven Neville's parents into irretrievable madness when he couldn't get them to betray the Ministry and leak the secrets he knew they possessed. They must have been incredibly brave people, and Addy couldn't help but wonder how this boy's life might have been different, if not for the night her father had paid them a visit.

She could do nothing more than push her food around the plate for the rest of the meal, although she did manage to maintain the façade of a "proper Death Eater.". All the while, however, she wondered about how many other families her father had destroyed, and what those infant boys and girls would be like now.

When all plates had been cleaned of both dinner and dessert, Dumbledore led the room in a cacophonous version of the school song, and the students departed for their dormitories. Snape immediately stood up and gave Addy the briefest of looks, which said, "Don't follow right after me." Addy telegraphed back, "Do you think I'm stupid?" Without a word spoken, they understood each other perfectly.

Addy conversed with Professor Sprout as the last of the students trickled out of the Hall. After

about ten minutes she excused herself, stood up, smoothed her robes and her hair, and headed off for Snape's office.

To be continued…