Hogwarts Mareschal

By: Lore or mess.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I just write fanfictions. Anything else that seems familiar is purely coincidental.

Chapter 20 – And she said "BOOM!"

……Instead of a solid, stationary form of defense, I have found that a more creative way of security lends to far more satisfying results. More often than not, the invader is left incapacitated or has taken an adequate amount of mental trauma that he will no longer pose a threat……

Djemn knew that she had never really said it out loud or given it much thought before, but she really liked this Salazar Slytherin person. The simple and practical way in which he thinks has yet ceased to amaze her. He was a man who understood when the best form of defense was a good offence and he was not afraid to utilize that saying to the maximum when he felt that it was needed. In other words, like her father, his attributes made him a man she could appreciate.

'Not to mention, he also had an excellent sense of comfort.' thought Djemn as she leaned back lazily in the dark green chair behind the desk. She gave herself a moment of blank peace before turning her attention back to the matter at hand. She was currently sitting in the secret room, reading one of Salazar's tomes on mind magic. Really, the way those books from Knockturn Alley described it, it was as though Occlumency was an art of tremendous effort and skill. It wasn't. Salazar made it perfectly clear that any Tom, Dick and Harry who was in any way capable of organizing one's thoughts was able to perform Occlumency. They simply needed practice and a sharp will. Most people have problems learning this branch of magic because of their puny incompetence at steeling one's mind against unwanted sensations. Humans were, after all, cowardly creatures with overzealous tendencies to protect the privacy of their memories from strangers. Their lack of mind discipline simply worked in the perpetrator's favour in breaking apart their mental defenses. Salazar explained that Occlumency was, in reality, not merely the simple act of protecting one's thoughts but a battle of the minds. The one with the stronger resolve will prevail over the weaker and ultimately flush out the invader or gain access to the latter's psyche. The same went for Legilimency, only in the opposite. Though, undoubtedly, the art of invading another's consciousness was doubly harder compared to protecting what was rightfully one's own.

Djemn sighed and closed her eyes, willing all thoughts to leak way and floated into her subconscious. She was not new to this procedure as she'd done it many times before to visit Perspicacity. Back then, she had no idea that this was actually a distant form of Occlumency, the act of disappearing into one's own mind to debate among one's own thoughts. Now that she had read Salazar's clarifications, she somehow understood that all the 'Djemns' she saw inside the stone room were in fact different aspects of her personality, each working to balance out the others.

The idea that she had an automatic little parliament inside her own head gave her a weird sentiment. Not bad, simply weird.

It was little more than a week since she had returned to Hogwarts, and within that time alone, Djemn had had little luck in solving the problem which had been plaguing her mind since the start of the Christmas holidays. To think that she had not realized it sooner. For a month and a half, the man had probably been laughing behind her back every time he saw her. The gall of him. But she was patient. And creative. She was sure she would be able to repay his civility with equal graciousness. Still, righteous revenge aside, the return to Hogwarts had brought about other matters as well. It seemed that Hermione Granger had been hospitalized in the Hospital Wing. Rumours range from her being petrified to her being mauled beyond recognition by Hogwarts' ghouls. Personally, Djemn didn't care much about what had happened to her but a quick word with Jormungand had ensured that the muggle-born had not been attacked. Not by the basilisk, at least. Which relates to another problem. After a rather lengthy discussion with her father, Djemn had decided that, for the time being, the best course of action concerning the Heir of Slytherin was to ignore him. There wasn't much she could do to an unidentified student, regardless of the fact that they had probably been within several feet of each other at some point. Jormungand was doing good in keeping his word and if she continued to appear only in the Secret Room, there was little chance of her and the Heir meeting face-to-face. She knew that eventually, their encounter would be inevitable but until then, the only thing she could do was watch and plan.

DH DH DH DH DH DH DH

Exhale… mist… exhale… mist…

The sharp cry of an eagle echoed overhead as Djemn raised her eyes to the dreary late January sky. It had stopped snowing earlier in the morning and she was in one of the lesser known outer east courtyards of Hogwarts. Statues of mythical figures in all shapes and sizes littered the space, each miraculously devoid of any snow on their smooth concrete bodies. Naked trunks of trees surrounded the small, unusual garden. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Thanatos circle and land silently atop the statue of Camulus, the Celtic god of war. Reaching into her pocket, she felt for the reassuring warmth of Undine's Pearl. Silence permeated the empty courtyard and only the slightest tendrils of chilly winter breeze stroked her cheeks.

'One more time.'

"Thanatos, come."

Djemn stretched her arm out as the white and grey eagle came swiftly at her order. She slowly adjusted her arm till she was looking directly at Thanatos's eyes. Fatigue and strain pulled mercilessly at her mind as she employed the spell yet again for the fourth time. Her hand shook and she fisted it tightly as she repeated the commands like a chant and forced them into the awareness of her familiar. With a jerk, she propelled Thanatos back into the air and watched as he flew a circle then swooped down to recapture the stone that they had been using to practice. Then, with dangerously accurate precision, he dropped the projectile into the small hole Djemn had made in the ground to serve as a target. A small, triumphant cry was heard as Thanatos looped around an icicle-laden tree and came back to land beside her.

Djemn sighed heavily and leaned back against the statue of Apollo behind her, closing her eyes. The spell was a demanding one and simply practicing it was already taking its toll on her. Truth be told, she knew that she was probably taking things a little too quickly. After all, Legilimency was relatively new to her and she'd only been learning the basics when she had stumbled upon this spell. Like a moth to light, it reeled in her attention and set off a whirlwind of devious thoughts before leaving her with enough information to create Operation 11. Some fine tuning and a letter to her father later, all that was missing was for her to ensure that Thanatos could obey her orders to the word when the time finally came to 'drop the bomb'.

Djemn glanced at her familiar, who in turn, cocked his head at her. It was hard, at first. No matter how she tried to force her way into Thanatos's mind, it was like trying to scale a wet glass wall. There was nothing to hold onto. It was only after some time that she became accustomed to the eagle's mentality and saw that the method of a full frontal attack was futile. She had to move like liquid, weaving herself into Thanatos's mind as though performing an exotic dance. Her first successful attempt came after four days of relentless effort. The experience was strange to say the least. She had glimpsed herself through Thanatos's eyes for a split second before foreign, peculiar thoughts started to invade her consciousness. Thoughts such as how she couldn't find more of those scrumptious dead chickens around the school anymore, and annoyance at the bare trees which provide close to no concealment during hunting. Indeed, Djemn was pretty sure those thoughts did not belong to her, though they did provide some rather interesting bit of information. After a few more tries which took up most of her free time in the following week, she was finally able to order Thanatos to do exactly what she wanted him to. To think that a simple matter of deliver and deposit would cost her so much time and effort. It certainly taught her not to underestimate the complexity of magic.

'No matter. Come the time, this will all be worth every second spent in silent humiliation. I merely hope he will not bedamaged too badly.'

With that last thought, Djemn turned and headed back into the school, Thanatos following behind her obediently.

DH DH DH DH DH DH DH

Breakfast was always a noisy affair. It was as though the students from all four houses were trying to outdo each other in a competition to see who could be the noisiest bunch of the lot first thing in the morning. Voices went up to barely tolerable levels, tableware clinked and clanked as though they were being used by people who didn't know a thing about what to do with them, and more often than not, more food ended up on the floor and benches than on the table by the end of the meal, regardless of the ever-refilling plates. It would seem that the highly alluded appearance of the Heir of Slytherin did very little to dampen the hyper dispositions of the students, if only early in the mornings.

Djemn despised breakfast at Hogwarts. It was the reason why she always came and left the Great Hall earlier than the majority of the student population. It wasn't that she couldn't tolerate them. She simply did not prefer to go to class every morning feeling as though she'd just come from witnessing feeding time at the local zoo. Sitting at the Slytherin table where at least some manner of decorum was retained was somewhat placating, but only so much. Fortunately though, on that bright, mundane Monday morning, the usual, noisy, disorderly affair was exactly what she needed. Operation 11 depended on the fact that nobody would pay any attention to anybody. Absolute normalcy was essential.

It was with that thought in mind that Djemn braced herself and stayed in the Great Hall during breakfast that morning, pretending to be busy with some thing or another. More and more students were gradually walking into the hall and the noise level was steadily picking up.

'Good.'

She glanced up at the table diagonally from hers and watched as her target went about finishing his breakfast. Her eyes narrowed slightly before she looked away casually. The time was close now……

As if on cue, the mail arrived. Owls of all shapes and sizes plus an odd aerial creature or two descended into the hall in waves. Monday was always the day with the most mail activity, precisely why Djemn chose this day to execute her revenge. The cries of the birds and the voices of the students rose even higher, making the situation further more suitable for her impending actions. She watched calmly as Thanatos landed in front of her with a letter from her father, as always. Coolly, she took the letter from the offered leg and pushed some bacon towards the bird of prey, sparing only a small glance to make sure that the leather protection on the eagle's feet was still secure. As she placed the newly received letter into her pocket, no one saw her hands withdraw and hide beneath the table. No one saw the odd movements her hands made, as though pulling something apart. And then, even if someone had been looking, no one would have been able to see what she held in her hand when they resurfaced onto the table top, for there was nothing there.

One hand coming up to pet Thanatos, the other discreetly pushing the unseen object into one of his claws, Djemn locked eyes with her familiar and mentally recited the order she been giving him for two weeks now. When she withdrew from his mind, she saw the eagle stare back at her with determined black eyes, holding himself proud and erect before her like a soldier. An indiscernible smile formed on her lips even as her eyes glimpsed to the side and saw her target reach for his goblet.

"Go."

Without any hint of hesitation, Thanatos spread his regal wings and took flight. Like all the other birds intent on leaving the Great Hall, he gained altitude as he headed for the large windows set high in the walls. And once again, no one saw the glinting black talons slacken and drop the invisible object……

DH DH DH DH DH DH DH

Albus considered it the start of a good day. Yes, as he looked over the many students of his beloved Hogwarts, it was the start of a much better day indeed. A burst of laughter came from his far right and he smiled at the sight of young Dean Thomas who was desperately trying to hide the rapidly growing number of red hearts upon his person. It seemed the Weasley twins had discovered a new type of prank to herald the upcoming Valentine's Day not two weeks away. Indeed, things did seem lighter now that a whole month had passed without any sign of the Heir of Slytherin. Albus could only hope and pray that the monster was gone and not merely resting, waiting for the right time to deal a more deadly attack. But it was hard, when somewhere in his subconscious, a voice was constantly telling him that nothing is as easy as it seems.

Glancing to his sides, he smiled again to see his colleagues eating their breakfasts contently. Pomona was once again telling Minerva about one of the mutated plants she'd found in one of her greenhouses and Filius was quite happy humming a little tune to himself as he speared a piece of sausage. Looking to his right, Albus's eyes found themselves on Hogwarts's resident potions master at the rightmost end of the staff table. Severus's customary scowl was evident even as he gracefully finished the rest of his meal. Next to him, Septima looked neither disturbed nor bothered by her neighbor's disagreeable outlook as she sat reading over a piece of parchment. Really, the only two people who the Slytherin head of house tolerated to sit near him and vice-versa were Septima Vector and Rolanda Hooch. And Albus, of course, though Severus always scowled fiercely whenever he did. Everyone else simply couldn't stand that acid tongue of his.

Eyes twinkling, Albus was about turn back to his own meal when, without warning, Severus's hand exploded.

More specifically, the goblet in his hand exploded.

Albus watched with wide eyes as the metal goblet in the potion master's hand burst outwards with a loud 'BOOM!', spewing sparks and flames of unnatural colour. It was as though the world had been cast with an impediment charm as Albus watched the metal pieces fly from Severus's burning hand to his face, drawing deep cuts on his cheeks and forehead. The tea from the now devastated goblet splashed onto the table, unexplainably bringing the bright yellow flames with them. A grunt of pain escaped the potions master's mouth as his body jerked in shock and he wretched his hand back to his chest, gripping it painfully. The fire on his hand was doused but the staff table however, was now starting to burn in several places where the tea had spread.

Albus leapt up and immediately shot a blast of water from his wand towards the flames. What he didn't expect was for the blaze to burn even stronger than before. Intense yellow flames leapt high for a moment before the strangest thing happened. The flames bent back in on itself and began to form what seemed to be blinding balls of light. A loud hissing sound was heard as all the fire became luminous spheres spinning at indescribable speeds on the staff table. The scene was as mesmerizing as it was baffling. Wasting not another second, Albus pointed his wand at the nearest non-liquid solution to put out the fires. Mashed potatoes, of all things available, flew across the table top in giant scoops and landed with loud splats on the spinning spheres, cutting off the sudden light that had radiated from them. The hissing sound stopped, leaving the hall in tense silence.

"Severus! Septima! Are you all right?"

A small movement from the potions master gave Albus the impression that he would have glared at the headmaster for asking such a brainless question but as it was, with his face nearly covered with blood from the cuts, he refrained from doing so. A short inspection later, Albus concluded that while the potions master's blood-stained face was worry-inducing, the real damage had been to his hand. If nothing else, the way it shook slightly and the way Severus was gripping his left wrist with a vice-like grip, told Albus all he needed to know.

"Minerva—"

The name was barely out of the headmaster's mouth before his deputy rushed to the potions master's side, assisting the resisting man to his feet.

"—perfectly capable of walking by myself—"

A fact that was clearly apparent to the headmaster and deputy headmistress but Severus's right hand was white from the force he was using to grip his wrist, so the transfiguration professor remained a hold on his arm anyway. Albus shifted his gaze to Septima and was relieved to see that, aside from a few non-life threatening grazes on her right forearm, she was relatively alright, though understandably shaken. The parchment she had been reading lay abandoned on the scorched and soiled table. Several reassuring words from him had her nodding her head dumbly and standing up to follow Minerva and Severus to the Hospital Wing. Albus watched them go with a thousand thoughts whirling in his mind. He surveyed his students, who had started to whisper and exclaim quietly about the horrific incident. What had happened? Who had done it? How had they done it? Questions everyone wanted answered. Albus watched as numerous accusatory eyes swiveled repeatedly towards the infamous Weasley twins but he could see the two fourth year students shake their heads with mockingly contrite expressions.

"If only, Gred…"

"If only, Forge…"

Many students were not convinced by their act, reluctant to give them the benefit of the doubt. Albus wouldn't too, given their past records, but the headmaster knew that no matter how rough the twins got, they would never intentionally injure anyone with their pranks. For that matter, so wouldn't most of his students. But hesitant as he was to admit it, Severus wasn't a teacher well liked by the majority of the school. Many would probably pay to see him in a little pain. This whole incident could have just been a mean prank gone wrong.

'But prank or not, the fact remains that two of my staff are injured. I will find out who is behind this……'

Albus's eyes hardened as the twinkle dimmed.

DH DH DH DH DH DH DH

The bell rang and the students started to leave the great hall. The hushed whispers continued as friends grouped together and theorized the likeliest explanation behind the morning's incident. No one paid any mind to the small girl walking among their midst. No one thought it odd that she was hiding her right hand in her sleeve. And no one saw the smile at the corner of her lips.

DH DH DH DH DH DH DH

Severus…… had no words to explain what he was feeling at that moment as he slashed his quill furiously across a fifth year's essay. The fresh, black ink of the nasty comment reflected the candles' light for an instant, mocking him, before seeping into the parchment. A low growl emanated from deep in his throat and the potions master had to consciously curl his fingers to keep from ripping the essay in half or flinging it across his office. A deep breath was followed by a round of calming Occlumency before Severus could finally force himself to unclench his fist and relax his shoulders. When he opened his eyes again, his gaze was automatically drawn to the left side of his desk, where his left hand was resting, wrapped in bandages and clamped around a large potion vial. Hot, angry blood rushed to his ears as he once again replayed the events of the morning in his head.

The pain of the explosion, the cuts and later, the healing, all came back to him in a flood of memories. Breakfast that morning had been the same insufferable affair until that goblet exploded in his hand. It had happened all too quickly for Severus to react. By the time he did, his hand was a bloody mess, throbbing like someone had speared it a hundred times with a blunt fork then dunked it in a pool of acid. He hadn't even realized that his face was injured until he felt the blood tickling his eyelashes and the thick, copper taste invaded his mouth.

Then he saw the light in front of him. Spinning spheres, hissing and glowing, dancing upon the staff table. Severus's gaze had been irrevocably caught by the bright display until the mounds of mashed potatoes 'splat'ed unceremoniously in front of him. It was only then that he realized the full impact of the ordeal. Damage control followed.

Severus cursed under his breath when he recalled how the school matron had practically cradled his hand in an attempt to determine the extent of the damage done to it. It turned out that, aside from the obvious injuries sustained from the small explosion, Severus had suffered severe chemical burns as well. Poppy had managed to find traces of concentrated lye from his charred, sorry excuse of a limb. It was then that the nurse had the gall to call him lucky as, with his third to fourth degree heat and chemical burns, most of his nerves were too dead to send any impulses. Or else he'd be feelinga lot more pain. It was also then that he'd snapped at the woman and told her to just fix him.

The process had been long and painful. Some of his hand muscles and most of his nerves and skin had to be re-grown. Not to mention, there was the cuts on his face to address. Septima got off easy. A minor healing spell later and she was off from the hospital wing. Severus on the other hand had to stay. It was only after a few hours that he'd finally managed to feel his fingers again without feeling any pain. His face was still stiff though. As a result of the incident, the potions master's classes had to be canceled. A good thing too because Severus didn't think he could have made it through the day without killing at least one of his students if he had to teach while in his current mood.

Severus stared at his hand. The cotton bandages wrapped around his fingers and palm were there as a preventative measure so that he doesn't injure the tender, new skin with unnecessary friction. The vial in his hand was merely a grip-toy to stop him from clenching his fist and breaking the delicate epidermis with his nails. The first was Poppy's idea, the latter, his. He needed something to calm him down and prevent him from doing any more damage to himself and having a familiar vial in his hand helped him achieve that.

Looking down at his desk, his eyes raked across the essay and the comment he'd left at the bottom. —"If your stunted brain cannot even comprehend the simplest reactions of a moonstone, then I fail to see why you even attempt to coax your underdeveloped faculties towards comprehending the fine art of potions."— It wasn't really the fifth year's fault. And Severus would admit that it was a half decent essay…… if he had been in a good mood. Unfortunately for the fifth year, the potions master was in the worst possible mood and this particular batch of students were the unlucky recipients of his foul disposition.

A deep sigh escaped him as Severus gently flexed his bandaged fingers. He could still feel a faint throbbing whenever he moved them too much and only about seventy percent of his grip power had returned. Suddenly, an overwhelming urge to break, destroy, kill something threatened to undo him but Severus gritted his teeth and willed it to pass. He'd been enduring these little episodes for the better part of the day and it was really starting to tire him out as he restrained himself from desecrating his office. He knew that the only way for him to be rid of these urges before they turn homicidal was for him to find the culprit behind the morning's incident.

'But who? Which unspeakable, impudent, moronic, suicidal person would dare do such a thing? For that matter, how did they accomplish it?'

Severus had drank from the goblet seconds before it exploded and he was very much certain that it had been the normal Hogwarts blend of tea, nowhere anything near the composition of lye. When Poppy had dared to venture a question of whether he had consumed any German pastries that morning, the potions master had been quick to snap at her that her underestimation of his intelligence concerning chemically-doused dough was grossly nauseating. That had been the end of that argument. But now, after having some time to think, Severus was beginning to truly question the nature of how lye had gotten upon his person. Poppy had mentioned that his hand hadn't been the only place she'd found traces of it, his robes were covered in it too.

Logically thinking, it didn't make any sense. Normal explosions create a great volume of expanded gas and force it away from the centre point of origin, causing a shockwave to travel through the air and impel any stray objects in its path. But Severus hadn't been holding any sort of incendiary material — it was a bloody goblet! — so what had served as the explosive? And where had the lye come from? Taking magic into account, it could have been a curse or a jinx but then what about the spinning balls of light? From what Severus could remember, they were made of the flames from the explosion. What was their purpose by reforming themselves as spinning, blazing spheres? There was no curse he knew of that could cause such a reaction and he doubted Albus knew much better when he spoke to him earlier.

Severus fought the urge to pull at his hair, knowing full well that he'd leave his scalp throbbing afterwards. Instead, the eagle feather quill still in his right hand cracked and broke into two under his livid grasp. It was simply too infuriating knowing that he'd been had one over and there was nothing he could do about it because he didn't even know what had actually happened!

A crack appeared on the vial in his left hand and Severus felt his eyes be drawn to it.

'Good. I'm recovering.'

The thought calmed him down somewhat as the potions master turned towards the broken quill and repaired it with a wave of wandless magic. He didn't normally practice wandless magic very often. It was more taxing than wand magic, nearly twice as hard and sometimes more, depending on the type of spell he was planning to use. Many wizards didn't use it and most regard total control of it as unachievable simply because they didn't have the will or the strength to do it. Severus had always enjoyed the knowledge that he was privately quite proficient at it.

Looking down to regard the essay one last time, he rolled it up and let it fall off to one side of his desk, moving on to the next miserable fifth year's essay. The writing was horrible and had Severus been any less used to reading such deplorable scribbling from loud-mouthed, arrogant little brats, he'd have immediately classified the boy as a retard with minimal knowledge of the alphabet. As it was, he already thought of them as little better then that.

It was somewhere through the process of deciphering the essay that a sudden knock came from his office door.

Severus felt one of his eyebrows rise. It was slightly more than an hour past dinner and the perfect time for students to pester their professors with their petty little problems. In Severus's case, the person at the door could be either Albus or one of his students. The first was unlikely as Albus was more prone to fire-calling him and then 'inviting' him to his office, but the latter was even more improbable because his students knew better than to disturb him in the evenings unless it was absolutely an emergency. Besides, the curfew implemented since the Heir of Slytherin was still standing and whoever who dared to slip around it to see a professor was still liable to get punished. And Severus doubted anyone would want to be alone with him after the morning's incident anyway.

Ensuring that his wand was with him, hidden within his sleeve, he stood and stalked over to the door, opening it just wide enough to allow him to peer out. Severus had to school his expression when wary puzzlement turned to surprise at seeing Helesande, of all people, standing outside his office.

"Good evening, professor. May I have a word with you? There is something we need to discuss."

Arrogant even when seeking acquiescence. There was a quality in her tone which indicated that she was merely asking because it was polite and that she knew he would consent to their meeting even if she hadn't. Severus fought against snarling and felt his upper lip curl slightly at the Slytherin student standing before him.

"And what makes you think I would entertain your presence?"

It was against his duties as a head of house to decline when sought, but Severus really did not feel up to listening to some spoiled brat's bewailing, especially in his current mood. A brief memory of the abuse incident in Albus's office resurfaced in his mind and he viciously squashed it like a bug. He did not need to feel any sort of pity or empathy for the girl. He had learned to solve his own problems and so would she, without any help from anyone. He was not a fluffy pillow she could cry on whenever 'Daddy Dearest' decided she needed a spanking. Besides, he doubted that was the case. The Christmas holidays had ended a month ago. Any emotional distress she had received prior should have already been dealt with. If she hadn't, then all the more reason why Severus should turn her away. He wasn't an abuse counselor and he certainly didn't want any details about Helesande's home life, head of house position be damned.

Helesande gave him a long, slow look before her eyes flicked down to rest pointedly on his bandaged left hand, partially hidden by his robes. Her gaze lasted for only a millisecond before they snapped back up to his face. Severus felt a devastating rush of enraged blood and magic surge in his veins.

'This… this insolent whelp…!'

The brass door knob dug into Severus's palm as he clenched it in an attempt to not draw his wand and mutter the first curse he could think of. Helesande continued to stare at him impassively, expression unreadable as she waited patiently for him to invite her in. Gritting his teeth, the potions master held the door open wider and Helesande swept into the room without the faintest bit of hesitation. She took no notice of him slamming the door forcefully behind her and casually inspected the room with mild disinterest.

Severus stalked over to his desk and proceeded to glare heatedly at the only muggle-born student in his house. Said muggle-born seemed content to ignore him for the moment in favour of his office.

"Well?" he snapped impatiently.

At that, Helesande finally turned towards him and lifted a cool eyebrow.

"Are you not going to conjure me a chair, professor?"

Severus could feel himself tense and deliberately pause as his magic threatened to lash out violently at the student before him. Helesande cocked her head innocently at him as he carefully leaned his hands onto his desk and leveled his deadliest glare yet at her.

"I will not let you take that tone with me, girl. You will respect me."

The promise of pain and suffering. Severus could hear it in his own low voice, echoing softly in the stone dungeon acting as his office. But Helesande merely gave him a flat, unimpressed look.

"Do unto others what other do unto you. You cannot ask me to respect you, professor, when you do not respect me."

An amazing surge, hot and ugly, shot through Severus's chest but he locked it down, pushing it aside with the familiarity which came from years of Occlumency practice. Inhaling calmly, he narrowed his eyes dangerously as he remained a tight control over his magic and emotions.

"You seem to believe that it is a necessity for me to respect you, child. While I would simply hate to destroy such a naïve and … mollifying delusion, I find myself unable to refrain from stating that, as a professor, there is no binding need for me to revere you as I am the one who will be dealing out punishments when I find insolent students showing disrespect."

Helesande gave no reply to his words, choosing to simply stare at him with a blank look on her face. A few moments passed as neither said or did anything before a distantly smug expression overcame Helesande's features, a small, sweet smile tugging at her lips.

"How is you hand, professor? I do hope it is not damaged too badly."

Severus's wand was in his hand, his fingers stroking the smooth, dark wood. The girl was too bold, too impertinent, and she needed to be disciplined. Merlin, how he wanted to do it…

The potions master conjured up an armchair in front of his desk without another word and sat down casually. Helesande mimicked him, choosing to not comment on his sudden change of attitude.

"It is not any of your concern. Classes will resume as normal tomorrow."

"I am glad to hear that."

Severus could feel his fingers clenching, but a cool wind blew through his mind and pushed his anger into a dark corner, turning his rage into a cold, calm fury. He needed to remain composed.

"Oh? Is that so?"

The tone of his voice made it perfectly clear that he very much doubted her relief over his injury.

"I have no wish for you to die, professor."

Her words caught him by surprise. Not only because of her sudden relate to death, but because, as she had said it, an immense sense of honesty had been projected from her. Severus's eyes narrowed. Either the girl was a better liar than he was, which was as likely as him wearing a tutu, or she was being truthful, which was in its own way highly unlikely as well. This was not what he'd expected, though frankly, he hadn't known what to expect either. Every instinct, every fibre of his being was screaming to him that the girl in front of him knew the truth behind the morning's incident, and one did not become a spy without acquiring some rather accurate instincts. Severus had been almost certain that she was here to gloat but then she went and said something completely contradictory to his suspicions. The potions master was confused. And he did not like being confused.

"And I do not care what you wish or do not wish for, neither do I have the time to listen to your heart's many insignificant desires. Why are you here?"

"My father mentioned to me that he depicted you as my favourite professor. It is true. Of all the adults in this castle, you are perhaps the only one in whom I hold a positive opinion. Unlike the other professors, you seem to understand what the eye cannot see. Which is why I am so deeply disappointed at your offence against me. I must ask for you to return to me that which you took."

While she was speaking, her voice remained light and careless but Severus could see the determined gleam behind those dark eyes. The simple request was nothing less than a full demand. However, even if Severus had an inkling of what she was talking about, his mind did not progress further than the point where he comprehended that she was accusing him of thievery! The nerve of her! Gritting his teeth, the potions master fought to work his mind around the accusation and gather his wits about him as boiling rage threatened to overcome him again.

"A bold accusation. You forget your place as student. As such, you will serve detention with me after dinner on Wednesday and Friday. Perhaps these sessions will hammer into your ingrate skull some much needed sense of humility. That said, I have not the faintest idea what you're talking about."

Helesande smiled at him. But it was a sharp smile.

"You toy with me, sir. But I am tired of games. I simply want what is rightfully mine returned to me."

Severus snarled. How dare her! "And what proof do you have that I have committed such a crime against you? You dare accuse me of such a disreputable act without a hint of evidence?"

"You were the only one with access to the object. While it pains me to say it, there is no other suspect. Now I repeat, please return what belongs to me."

Severus stood abruptly from his chair, his anger no longer permitting him to sit passively. His fingers itched to strike at the girl in front of him and a curse was gathered enticingly on his tongue. But he forced it back. The enchantments which bound him as a teacher at Hogwarts would not allow him to harm one of her students without provocation, and while Helesande was certainly implying that he was dishonourable, mere words were still not enough to be considered a provocation.

Helesande remained sitting across from him and stared at him without blinking. The smile was long gone from her face and her eyes had hardened to form chips of black onyx. The coldness in them dared him to retaliate and the confidence in her poise made it loud and clear that she wasn't the least bit intimidated by him or what he would do. It was enough to make Severus sick with rage. Her impudence, her arrogance, her sheer nerve to accuse him of something as petty as theft all twisted together to act as a buffer for his anger coiling in his stomach. His injury — which he was almost certain to have been caused by her — and all the incidences where she defied him time and again since he first laid eyes on her came crashing over him like a tidal wave, leaving him dizzy with fury.

Without warning, Severus whipped his wand up—

-Helesande's eyes narrowed-

—and slammed it down onto his desk.

Neither moved as Severus fought to restrain his urge to hurt the girl in front of him. His anger was almost tangible, feeding off him in waves.

"Get out."

His voice was low, soft, as though speaking any louder would undo him. It made him sound almost weak, though only a fool would think that of him as he stood there practically radiating with aggressive magic.

Helesande wisely said nothing as she came to her feet fluidly. For a short moment, her eyes lingered on his left hand, which Severus was aware was shaking lightly. But still she said nothing as she distanced herself from him and approached his office door, yet Severus's silent command for her to leave as quickly as possible was not heard as she paused with her hand on the serpentine brass knob.

"I will not stop until I have what I want. Professor or otherwise."

And she was gone.

Severus stood hunched over his desk, almost trembling with suppressed emotion. With one quick movement, he released his wand and grabbed the closest item to hand — his inkwell — and flung it with all his might at the door. The sharp sounds of the glass shattering against wood bounced around the stone walls of the room but did little to placate him. After that, only the silence of the dungeons answered as the black ink trailed down the door, seeping into the floor like liquid shadows.

Author's Notes: It's been forever, I know. And I am properly ashamed. But here it is, after eight months. The Burn-out Syndrome is still not all lifted but at least it's abating. This chapter took almost four months. And as sad as it is to say, I've actually lost direction with this fic… I don't know where I'm going… at least until before the Chamber showdown. I'm so hopeless…… Please review to give me more insight. Even flames are allowed. I had trouble channeling my inner Snape here so I need to know if I overdid him or something.

A thousand thanks to all my reviewers. You know who you are.

Until next chapter, have a nice day everyone!