"The release of atom power has changed everything except our way of thinking...the solution to this problem lies in the heart of mankind. If only I had known, I should have become a watchmaker."

-Albert Einstein

Chapter 35: Walking Sticks

Saira watched idly as the staircase swung away from the steps she stood on, barring her from her destination. Though she had plans to meet with Sinistra in only minutes, she was in too much of an absentminded funk to resort to her usual string of curses. Her encounter with Dumbledore had been days ago, but it had left her in the sort of pensive mood that made her poor entertainment for the fiery witch. The staircases, surprised to meet with so little resistance, reconsidered their morning torture and allowed her on her way.

She didn't even notice.

Her feet acted on their own accord, taking her to the castle gates where they'd agreed to convene. Sinistra had insisted on hauling her out to get new clothes since she'd mangled shoes and pants to the point where even the house elves refused to touch them. –Thanks, Fluffy.—

Saira remembered the multiple fanged heads charging towards her and shuddered. Where she'd once thought that the key to invoking true horror was in the threat of the unknown, recent events left her reconsidering. It seemed that magical realities could turn out to be far more frightening than anything her Muggle mind could conceive. But she didn't want to think about that just now.

"Hey, Sinistra...anything new?"

"Not a bloody thing, Hansen. Wish it were otherwise, but Saul doesn't seem inclined to propose before the holidays."

"Say that again?"

"Propose. I suppose you Muggles have something akin to marriage contracts?" Sinistra grinned.

"How long have you been dating him?" It was intended as a rhetorical question.

"Long enough. At my age, it's all relative. Besides, we can always divorce if it doesn't work out."

"It sounds like you've been doing your pre-nuptial counseling with Britney Spears."

"Huh?"

"Never mind." Saira felt a smile cracking through the gloom on her face.

"Now that's better," Sinistra approved. "I thought you were going to sit there sulking for the whole walk into town."

"I do not sulk," Saira huffed.

"My mistake. Perhaps you always look as though you're suffering the effects of last night's firewhiskey."

"I wish!" Saira felt like a good stiff drink might not be the worst idea Sinistra had ever had.

"Well, we are heading into town…might as well enjoy all there is to offer."

"So to speak."

"Indeed. And, while we're on our way, you can explain to me why Snape is even more of a lout than usual lately, why Dumbledore has you in his office every five minutes, and why Slytherin seems to be expanding the boundaries of their dormitory to include the hospital wing."

"That's a tall order."

"It's a longish walk." The two women headed down the muddy path to Hogsmeade.

"Well, for starters—I hadn't realized Snape was being more himself than usual. I haven't seen him in nearly a week." —True enough, and I did promise Dumbledore I'd keep my mouth shut.— Snape had ended up being relatively fine physically, with only his mood worse for the wear once Poppy spent some time un-concussing him. He hadn't even missed a day in his teaching schedule, though undoubtedly most of his students wished it were otherwise. If he was feeling any poorer than usual it could only mean particularly focused torture for them.

Saira had a feeling that the wizard Malfoy had taken away wasn't so lucky. After all, one doesn't usually "dispose of" the living. She'd tried to convince Dumbledore they should report Lucius to the wizarding authorities but the Headmaster had disagreed, explaining that her word against Malfoy's would be useless in wizarding court and only mark her as a target for more attacks. She was still peeved.

She continued their conversation. "As for Dumbledore—well, it sort of has to do with the whole Pritchard thing. He thinks that I was a target for the poison."

"Yes, yes," Sinistra interrupted impatiently, "Hooch brought me up to date on all of that after Malfoul got himself put in charge of the whole investigation. But why was Goyle hit with a memory charm? Someone worried he might talk?"

"That's the going theory."

"Hmm." Sinistra was silent for a few minutes while she turned some thoughts around in her head.

"And, Hansen—what's up with you? You seem in a funk to rival our Dungeon Master."

"Ha. Just tired, mostly. Sort of sick of all the anti-Muggle stuff going on. You know, the usual."

"So it has nothing to do with seeing a horde of Death Eaters in the Forbidden Forest?"

Saira's eyes opened slightly as she looked at the witch next to her.

"Say that again?"

"You're sounding redundant this morning; it's quite unbecoming." A glimmer of amusement danced in Sinistra's eyes. "Snape and I go way back. Despite our best intentions, we're friends of sorts. I pulled for him when he came to Dumbledore all those ago, and I've seen him getting treated by Poppy many times since. Including a pretty recent time. I thought you might want to talk about it."

Saira was silent for a minute. She did want to talk about it, but wasn't sure where to begin attacking what had become a rather drawn out missive in her mind.

"Do you know about my brother?"

"Of course. I could hardly continue to hold my reigning title of Hogwart's Dirt Digger Extraordinaire if I missed that little tidbit," the witch teased.

Saira smiled. Somehow, Sinistra's complete lack of tact made it easier to talk to her. You rarely had to guess what she was thinking, for one.

"Well, he had an aversion to magic that I couldn't understand when I first heard about it. I thought he was a little daft to be able to do all these amazing things but choose not to exploit the talent. I had this fairytale idea that magic created a potential for people to do really great things and that there was a sort of creation and discovery made possible only through the use of it. Only, it turns out that magic can be used in some seriously horrific ways, and the fairytale is more along the lines of something the Grimm Brothers might have written."

"They're famous Wizard historians. Did you know that?"

"Ah…no. But I'm not surprised."

"But you are surprised that magical people have as much free will as Muggles?"

"Huh?"

"Come on, Hansen—do you think Muggles are the only ones who have a propensity for evil? It's not the magic that does anything wrong. Even the Dark Arts, judiciously applied, have their use." She looked a little too knowing for Saira's comfort as she continued.

"Your brother made a choice and maybe that was fine for him. But it's sort of like saying 'if you don't like the country, leave.' Sure, that means you don't have to face situations you disagree with. But it also means that you don't take a role in making things any better."

Saira didn't look convinced. "Shouldn't it matter how you try to make things better? The ends don't always justify the means, and so few people here take responsibility for the consequences of their actions. Even on Dumbledore's front, I don't think there's much of that going on."

"Oh?" Sinistra seemed more amused than offended.

"Well, he told me that for the last few years, they've been depending pretty heavily on the efforts of underage wizards to further their cause. Have you ever heard of the Crusades?"

"Hansen! You're as bad as I am…" Sinistra was snickering. "It sounds trite, but Harry Potter is no ordinary boy. And I know it's absolutely absurd that he should be facing off against Voldemort time and time again, with a frequency that uncannily matches the passing of school years, but the kid's managed to keep himself alive so far and he's done some serious damage to Voldemort's plans. We'd all be in pretty bad shape if it wasn't for him."

Saira shook her head and switched her argument to one she thought Sinistra might take more seriously.

"Then what about Snape?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why is he allowed to act as a double agent, when it means he's more likely to get tortured and killed? Dumbledore actually encourages him to go to Voldemort."

"And what would happen if he didn't?"

"Um…"

"He'd be needing more work than your pet car. Voldemort doesn't take well to betrayal. Not to mention…"

"What?"

"Hansen, you're underestimating people."

"Huh?"

"Do you think Dumbledore went and hired Potter and Snape? He couldn't make those two hardheads do what he wanted if he used up every last draught of magic in the castle. Potter's been chasing down trouble since he got here, and Snape—well, you've met him."

Saira involuntarily grinned. "Still, using an 11 year old boy?"

"Have you actually talked to Potter?"

"Not in any depth."

"That kid has been on his own personal mission ever since he found out Voldemort killed his parents. It's almost frightening to watch something consume a boy so much, but he seems to go about it responsibly…wait, on very brief reflection, I take that back. At any rate, he knows the risks involved. It's no good sheltering people."

"But how do you fight evil if you sink to its level?"

"Nothing is that binary. Evil wouldn't succeed if it didn't have 'good' things to offer some. And Good could never defend itself if it didn't fight hard and occasionally fight dirty. A battle is rarely a pretty affair, unless Saul's orchestrating it."

"How did I know you'd find a way to work him into the conversation?"

"Maybe you have some latent psychic powers. Perhaps you should have an afternoon tea with Sybil?"

Saira shuddered her response, and Sinistra cackled.

"Anyways, if you're so sick of hearing me talk about him, we should get you a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend?"

"Not unless Hooch is offering…"

"She's seeing some player from the Cannons this week."

"Yeah, she told me when we were repairing some of the school brooms. She had some joke about Snitch-hunting…"

"Sounds like Hooch."

"She credited you as the source…"

"Wouldn't know what you're talking about."

"I thought not." Saira smiled. She didn't exactly agree with Sinistra, but she still felt better airing her misgivings. And, she could see the streets of Hogsmeade approaching. The two changed their conversation to topics less likely to make the front page of Rita Skeeter's rag as they negotiated streets busy with witches and wizards.