Chapter 38 for LilyLeona who asked me to update a while ago, but the world got in the way.
"He's never taken this long to carve the chicken before!" Trixabelle irritably whispered to Eileen.
"He's only doing it to annoy you." Eileen whispered back.
Severus ignored them and continued to carve the chicken.
"Come on, Severus. Trixabelle carved a chicken faster than this when she was seven." Aunt Ruth laughed. "She was hungry then too."
Severus began carving at normal speed in irritation.
"You allowed my daughter to carve a chicken with a sharp knife when she was but seven years old?" he asked.
"Well I was hardly going to succeed with a blunt one now was I?" Trixabelle interjected. "Besides I wouldn't say 'allowed' is the correct word for it. They left the room for five minutes in which time I decided that I was bored and carved the chicken."
How very typical of her. Even now, nineteen years of age she was prone to do things that were too dangerous for her, like looking into a basilisk's eyes. But even now, just like then so it seemed, she seemed to get away with it without any long lasting effects.
"Carved is used in the loosest sense of course, eh, Trixabelle?" Uncle John jested. "We hardly needed to cut it after all."
"Well… maybe carved was a strong word. Turned it into flakes more like." She conceded.
"Any other life threatening ventures I should know about?" Severus asked giving his mother a leg of the chicken.
"Eiffel tower." Uncle John, Aunt Ruth and Trixabelle said at once.
For half a second Severus imagined his daughter jumping from it and all but killing herself in the process. He then decided that although she was reckless she wasn't stupid.
"She decided she was going to take the steps down from the second tier." Uncle John began. "Little did she tell us that she would take them at a dead run."
Trixabelle began to laugh and hid behind her napkin when her father's none to pleased gaze landed on her. To Severus it seemed that his mother was right. Gryffindor tendencies were something he was going to have to endure for the long haul.
"Fell flat on her face when she got to the bottom!" Uncle John finished.
"So did you and Aunt Ruth!" she shot back grinning. "And you lay down for about half an hour whereas me and my five year old self was up and running after a couple of minutes. Could have got to the Sacre-Coeur and back by the time you got up!"
Severus served the rest of the chicken in silence bluntly ignoring – or so he pretended – the other stories of Trixabelle's stunts. It was the one that involved a blood replenisher that he intently listened too.
Trixabelle had been out in the grounds of Beauxbatons one afternoon and having done all of her homework was slightly bored. There was an interesting looking tree on the other side of the courtyard and so, like any sixteen year old, she decided to climb it. What she and the staff didn't know was that it was a half breed whomping willow. In fact they were thought to be an impossibility. The tree had always stood perfectly still, only moving in the fiercest of breezes.
It allowed Trixabelle to climb into the highest branches until it began to violently thrash around. She held on for dear life, her heart in her throat. Not able to use her wand as it had fallen out of her pocket when the tree began to move. She resorted to the most undignified way to attract attention that she could think if – screaming as shrilly as she could until someone turned up.
It just so happened that that person was Madame Maxime. She'd quickly immobilised the tree but Trixabelle smacked her head on it knocking herself out. She fell to the ground, terribly bleeding already looking pale.
"That's how we found out that she's allergic to aniseed." Aunt Ruth mused.
Severus sat down after serving himself the last of the meat remembering a rushed floo conversation he'd had almost exactly three years ago.
"Mr. Snape!" a panicked voice called out of his office floo.
Knowing the tone all to well Severus stopped what he was doing and knelt before the floo.
"A student has been found to be allergic to aniseed and needs a blood replenisher. What ingredients do I need?"
"Mandrake from an infant plant. Put it in at the same time as the aniseed but stir anticlockwise. You have the allergic reaction under control?"
"Yes. Thank you."
The head of the medi-wizard then left the flames.
"They never told me it was you." Trixabelle said. "I wish they had. Anyway, Eil… Gran, do you have any stories to tell about Dad?"
"He never did anything undignified in his life." Eileen replied with a roll of her eyes. "Always so serious."
"I don't know." Trixabelle shrugged. "He sneezed the other day."
"People are allowed to sneeze, Trixabelle." Severus commented.
"Well yeah, I suppose. Not five times in a row at the breakfast table whilst talking to Hermione."
Severus looked across the tale to her unable to find a rebuttal that would make the situation seem more dignified. In fact he had a sudden urge to stick his tongue out at her. It was a stupid, childish reaction brought about by his mother's presence he was sure. Or Trixabelle was having a greater effect on him than he had previously admitted. Yes, that was it. Instead though he brought about the incident at Christmas.
"I at least did not almost set the Malfoy ball room up in flames in a fit of anger."
"I was talking to Madame Maxime. In retrospect that reaction was a rather mild one." Trixabelle retorted and popped a carrot into her mouth.
Severus did nothing but roll his eyes and cut into his roast potato.
"Oh my God!" Trixabelle explained. "Pumpkin juice! Dad has a delightful habit of spilling pumpkin juice!"
"Taffy!" three voice called at once.
The rest of the week slowly passed with not a detention to conduct or a student to tell off. There was barely a ripple of mischievousness in the whole castle.
"I don't know what's wrong with them." The Fat Lady said to her neighbouring portrait.
"They had more spirits during the war." The lady politely said whilst rocking her baby to sleep. "I don't know what's wrong with them I'm sure."
"Things are different, my ladies." A lord in a grand painting called down to them from the next row. He then walked into the Fat Lady's portrait. "This time a Slytherin was taken from inside the castle. No one feels safe anymore. And they all know about the Basilisk. The werewolves are scaring people in a way that You-Know-Who never could."
"I think that is quite enough." A voice from the darkness snapped. Severus stepped forward bringing his figure to its full, imposing height. "I do not believe the students require your… inspiring, words."
"What would you have us do, headmaster?" The Fat Lady said with a dramatic wobble in her voice.
Severus stared at them for a long moment and then spun on his heal and strode away. What were they going to do indeed? Parents were sending letters in every day, the board of governs were breathing down his neck, but the ministry was oddly silent.
"Severus!" the Bloody Baron called.
Severus spun round to where the voice had come from.
"Severus! The Potter Boy requires your assistance. He's in your office."
Never one to waste time he Apparated straight there.
The office was filled with Aurors all crowded around the desk which had been cleared to hold a map. All the senior staff were there, a couple of villagers from Hogsmeade were also there. They were bloodied, battle worn.
"Severus, prepare the castle. Hogsmeade is relocating." Potter ordered. "Filius, gather the staff and tell them what's happening, I believe we can assume the werewolves are on the move."
Scorpius is a distraction.
Trixabelle quietly slipped away from the mass of people planning, the mass of people arriving. There wasn't much space to move but she managed to find a stool before she fell over. The shaking had started, sweat dripped down her brow and coldness set in.
Scorpius is a distraction, the unearthly voice whispered. A distraction. But to save everyone else you must save him. To save him you must save everyone else.
Bile rose in her throat, hot and rancid. She closed her eyes.
Putrid air. Rotting flesh. Cold heat. Dampness. Mournful moaning of the damned filled the air. All was dark. She walked downwards. The air became warmer, more difficult to breathe. She passed into a small room. Her eyes slowly adjusted but they could not see far. A beacon of whiteness in the corner. She walked over.
"Scorpius?" she asked.
The beacon of whiteness lifted. Bloodshot eyes looked up at her.
"Trixabelle?" he asked blood coming from his mouth.
"Severus, get over here!" someone in the real world shouted. The voice didn't fully register.
"Trixabelle?" Scorpius asked again. "It's about time don't you think?" he coughed, more blood followed. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten all about your favourite cousin."
"Leave her be." Severus commanded.
People moved back but watched on in interest or just couldn't look away. Severus had been there once when she'd had a vision, but it wasn't like this. She looked nothing more than a shell and the very air around her was fouled by some strange sort of magic. Breathing became difficult, much more laboured. He felt hot and clammy, faintly sick.
Slowly her eyes cracked open. Tears streamed down her face and her whole body shook in shock, her teeth chattered and she was ice cold to the touch. Severus gave her his coat and tired to help her with a warming charm.
"Send for Nathalie Greengrass." He softly commanded. "Go back to planning."
He gently lifted her and took her to one of the rooms that joined onto the office. There was a large sofa there which he placed her on and put a thick blanket over her. The room was surprisingly quiet which was what she needed to recover.
"Severus?" Nathalie asked several minutes later. "What do you need?"
"Prepare a calming draught and Dreamless Sleep. Tell the elves to have some food ready for her when she comes round."
Three days. Three days and she still hadn't come round. The castle had filled up with the Hogsmeade populous, the ministry and been and gone, reporters had interviewed people, photographs had been taken but all of that was lost on the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He'd not left his office. He'd helped make plans, given an interview to the Daily Prophet, but never was he far away from is daughter.
"You need to sleep, Severus." Eileen soothed. She'd watched her son day and night working himself to exhaustion to try and help. But still he'd spent most of his time with his daughter. He'd had maybe six hours sleep since Trixabelle had the vision. "Something to eat at least."
"I'm fine, Mother, I assure you." He replied.
"You are not fine, Severus." Her tone became harsh.
Severus did not reply.
Eileen threw up her hands in exasperation, muttered something and then left the room.
Brown. Everything was light brown. Severus reached up and took the piece of parchment that was stuck to his brow in his hand and pulled it off.
Don't be late for dinner, Dad. You're supposed to set an example remember.
Oh, I'm awake by the way.
Boo.
Severus smirked and then sighed in relief. His daughter was awake, in good spirits if the note was anything to go by and she was hungry. If she'd sat on the bed and refused food he would have worried as she was always hungry after a vision. He sat back in his chair for a moment but then voices started to drift over. Potter's. Draco's. Trixabelle's. Weasley's.
Quickly he got up and strode into the office.
"You find Scorpius you find the others. Find the others you find Scorpius." Trixabelle said and put something on the desk.
"I thought the visions were supposed to tell us something useful!" Draco snarled in desperation.
"I know what condition he's going to be in when we find him!" Trixabelle snapped back. She took a breath and carried on in a calm tone. "At least we'll know how to help him."
"Come on Draco." Astoria's calm voice soothed. "There is nothing more we can do right now. Harry will let us know what's going on as soon as he knows anything."
"What have you learned?" Severus asked.
"That you set a rubbish example to your students." Trixabelle teased and turned round to smile at her dad.
"Your nightmare has done nothing to quell your sense of humour I see." Severus drawled.
Trixabelle rolled her eyes and didn't bother to respond. Then there was a soft knock on the door.
"Enter." Severus said.
The door slowly opened and Nathalie Greengrass stood in the door way, white as snow.
"We brought a werewolf back." she began not moving. "She had moonlight with her. We didn't realise until it was too late…" a stray tear rolled from her eye. "She killed Jonathon. Madam Pomfrey attacked the wolf, but she wasn't good enough. Alya Black was in there helping, she… she killed it."
Trixabelle stood in shock for a moment. Jonathon was the divination teacher who'd replaced Sybil after the Death Day vision and Madam Pomfrey… Poppy. She didn't want to believe it, but it was true. There was no denying it. Not when she saw everyone's reactions.
Without saying anything everyone made their way back down to the hospital wing. Inside aurors were cleaning up, analysing things and giving out aid. In the middle of the room was Poppy's body, torn open through the middle by three jagged claw marks. Blood stained the floor around her like a halo. Her wand was still in her hand, a look of violent determination on her face.
Six feet away was the hulking mass of the werewolf.
All the patients had been moved out, into the Great Hall probably. The only noise in the room came from a bed in the corner where Alya was sitting, holding her knees up to her chest, shaking with shock. Trixabelle broke off from the group and walked over to her.
"Alya?" she softly asked.
"Trixabelle?" tears now freely rolled from Alya's eyes.
"It's okay to cry, Alya." Trix put her arm about the shaking girl and allowed her to cry.
There wasn't much to discuss. Nathalie had said the woman was so injured no one n the village could say for sure who it was and so they'd taken her in at the castle instead of sending her to St. Mungo's in case she was a villager and her family were in the castle too. There had been signs of consciousness all day and Poppy had thought that the woman would gain mobile function within the next thirty six hours, however werewolf healing had sped the process up. Dramatically. Once the wolf was in control there was no stopping it.
"Miss Black will be honoured after this is all over." Harry said and then ran a hand though his messy hair. "Ron, check everyone else for enchantments. We're not taking any more risks. Use Veritserum if you have to."
"Right." Weasley hurried off.
"No one else is dying on my watch." Harry then darkly muttered to himself.
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Next time... A divination class and remember when the Potter boys last got into trouble? Well, Ginny has something so say about it.
J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter