Harry rushed inside, the others short on his heels. A cold sense of foreboding trickled down his spine. So many of his Hogwarts memories involved terrified shouting, and he did not need Trelawney's crystal ball to brace himself for the trouble that was sure to wait ahead.

At the opposite side of the Great Hall, Alicia stood over a prone figure laying half sprawled over the staff table, the tablecloth underneath stained an alarming red. Coming closer, Harry recognised Zacharias Smith's straw blond-hair. At first glance, he couldn't see any signs of a struggle, the breakfast dishes around Smith still pristine in their settings.

Healer instincts taking over, Harry was already casting diagnostic charms without being aware of even drawing his wand. He reached to the tablecloth and smelled his fingers cautiously. Not blood, wine from the goblet lying overturned at Smith's hand. Was the man drunk? Alicia was babbling too hysterically for that, but Harry ignored her, concentrating on Smith, whose skin was cold to the touch. He felt no pulse even as his spells told him the same. Too much time had passed for any intervention, magical or muggle.

Harry dragged Smith up by his shoulders, already knowing what he was going to see. The sight of the not-quite grimace and vacant, fixed eyes made Professor Babbling at his side gasp, her hand over her mouth. The discoloured froth dried around Zacharias's lips was not at all natural.

"Why is it blue?!" Alicia wailed.

"This can't be happening right now." Oliver paced back and forth in front of the table, head lowered against his broom.

Close by, David was looking at the body with wide eyes, startlingly similar to Smith's in colour and stillness.

Girlish voices resounded throughout the Hall, their loud cheerfulness jarring in the face of Smith's somber end.

"Don't let the students see this," Harry said when nobody moved.

The two first-years halted near the Christmas tree, confusion on their faces.

Waking from her reverie, Babbling gave him a faint nod and ran over to usher them back.

"What's happening here?" McGonagall's Scottish brogue sounded from the doors.

"I think Professor Smith is dead," one of the girls said, while the other was craning her neck around Babbling to see the body better.

"What utter nonsense, Miss—Zacharias?" McGonagall halted and repeated Babbling's earlier gesture, her hand fluttering to her mouth.

"Somebody poisoned him!" Alicia cried. "It must be the wine!"

Harry intercepted her hand as she reached for the goblet. "Let's leave the evidence for the Aurors." He gently closed Smith's eyes and levitated him from his seat to hang suspended over the table, careful not to disturb anything. Despite his confident tone, he was not actually sure what the correct procedure was here, and the muggle crime novels he was fond of reading were not of any help.

The dead body looked incongruous and almost indecent suspended against the backdrop of the glittery Christmas tree. Even in death, Smith managed to tarnish something that Harry held dear, he thought resentfully.

"If we can't leave, how are the Aurors going to come?" Oliver asked, resuming his pacing.

"The Floo network is still uncooperative, and I suspect will remain so until after the storm is over," said McGonagall.

"We can't just leave Zach like that!" Alicia was tearing up again.

"I'll put the body under a special stasis charm," Harry offered. "But moving him from the Great Hall would be for the best."

Memories of the war flooded through him. Yesterday's feast had kept them at bay, but Smith's body, lying here in the crisp light of day, brought back the images of Remus and Tonks at the exact spot. He forcibly shoved his thoughts to the back of his mind. Now was not the time.

"I didn't think I'll see the young dead here again," McGonagall said, unconsciously echoing his thoughts. In her black robe, she looked as if already in mourning, weary beyond her years. She turned to the visibly trembling David, who had been silent so far. "My condolences, Mr. Shaw. I know you were not close to your Uncle—"

Smith was the boy's Uncle?

"You are right, Headmistress. We weren't close." Dragging his eyes from the body, he looked at McGonagall and then at Harry. "Excuse me." With that, he turned on his heel and ran out of the Great Hall.

"Poor boy," said McGonagall. "I hoped the younger generation would be spared from—"

"Are we going to just ignore that somebody in the castle has poisoned Zacharias?" Alicia demanded, her voice rising shrilly.

Severus Snape chose this moment to appear. "What's this commotion? Mr. Shaw has just rushed past me as if he saw a ghost." His step faltered almost imperceptibly when he saw the body floating over the table, and his face turned into a tight mask. "I see."

Her voice rising a hysterical octave, Alicia pointed her finger at Snape. "It's you! You killed him!"

It took some time for Harry and McGonagall to calm down Alicia who attempted to pounce at Snape with her fists. Snape himself stood motionless and silent, not even getting out his wand when Alicia threatened to hex him, not that Harry thought she actually had a chance. Through it all, Oliver was sitting at the Gryffindor table, doing nothing to soothe his agitated paramour. Instead, he was glaring at his broom in front of him, making Harry wonder about his priorities.

McGonagall pursed her lips. "We are all very upset, but let's not fling accusations about, Professor Spinnet."

"He is a former Death Eater who can brew any poison imaginable. Who else could it be?"

Several expressions flitted across Snape's face: hurt, fury, resignation, before he settled into a sneer. "What possible reason do I have for poisoning our esteemed colleague?"

"This! This right here! You're always belittling him! Just yesterday, you called him an inane buffoon at breakfast! You hated him!"

"If I murdered everyone I ever insulted, there would not be a single soul left in Hogwarts."

"This is not the time for jokes, Severus." McGonagall searched Snape's face as if trying to parse the truth.

"Are you also suggesting I had something to do with this, Minerva?"

"Of course not. We'll wait for the storm to end, and the Aurors will find the culprit."

Snape held her gaze. She looked away first.

"I'm sure they will." He turned to the body, nostrils flaring.

Harry felt for the man, even though he was sure Snape would skin him alive for any display of pity. But it seemed that McGonagall was once again willing to believe the worst of Snape, or at least entertain the possibility. Alicia's accusations must have been a bitter pill to swallow coming from a colleague, even though Snape might not have much regard for her, but McGonagall should have known him better than that.

"I'll have the wine and Smith's blood examined to identify the poison used." Snape's voice was even, as if he was in his classroom, standing over a cauldron and not a dead body.

"Ha! Let's allow the cat to investigate the mice's disappearance," Oliver scoffed, speaking up for the first time. His cloak was still on, if undone, its sleeve hitched up so he could glance at his wristwatch every other minute.

Snape didn't deign that with more than a withering glare.

"I actually think it's a good idea. Some poisons don't stay in the body, even under stasis," Harry said. "Aurors can always run their own tests afterwards," he added, forestalling Alicia's protests.

"Harry Potter, our new potions expert." Snape curled his lip.

Harry drew a fortifying breath. "I'm a Healer; our training included a good deal of potions knowledge, poisons in particular. Believe it or not, I passed all my exams and completed my hours in the Poisonings Department."

"Remembering your performance in my classroom, I weep for the state of our healthcare today if this is the case."

Right. It seemed Snape was determined to be as big of a git as he had ever been. Harry's sympathy was fading quickly, replaced by irritation.

"Don't let any of the evidence into his hands, Harry," Alicia said. She sagged against the wall behind the staff table with a heaving breath. "Oh, poor Zach."

"I doubt Professor Snape would be stupid enough to poison Zacharias like that."

"Like what, Potter?" asked Snape. He looked at Harry like he would at a cauldron waiting to boil over.

"In the middle of the Great Hall and with incriminating evidence lying around."

"If it looks like a Bludger and is coming in your direction, you first accept that it is, in fact, a Bludger and move as far as you can from it, and only then decide if it maybe was something else," said Oliver.

"Clearly, you are a man of great wisdom." Snape bared his teeth.

"I'll contact the Aurors as soon as I get to my training camp."

"How are you going to accomplish that in a magical storm, you nitwit?"

"I was thinking about trying one of the hidden passages to Hogsmeade and apparating from there." Oliver jutted his chin before checking his wristwatch.

"Hogsmeade must have the same problems with the Floo network as we do," said McGonagall.

"I'll simply apparate."

"And your foolish corpse would be no doubt somehow blamed on me as well," Snape said.

"I'll take my chances."

"Well, this is a moot point anyway." McGonagall pinched the bridge of her nose. "All the passages were blocked after the war."

"What are you even doing here, Wood? Seeking employment after Saturday's fiasco?"

Oliver blanched, hands curling into fists. That was a low blow from Snape, if understandable after his accusations. Despite Puddlemere's Seeker catching the snitch, the Falmouth Falcons won 420:410 after Oliver missed two Quaffles in his hoops within the last ten minutes of the game. The Prophet questioned the wisdom of giving him the Keeper spot on the English team for the World Championship, even going as far as to list other Keepers who could potentially replace him.

"I don't need a new job, Snape," he barked. "And you soon won't either. It will be hard to keep it all the way from Azkaban."

"Mr. Wood, there's absolutely no need for this sort of remarks. And while I'm happy to see all the alumni back at school, Severus's question is valid under the circumstances."

"He was visiting me, Headmistress," Alicia said, defiance in her puffy eyes. "And did not leave my quarters from the dinner yesterday until half an hour ago."

McGonagall's lips turned into a thin line. She opened her mouth to say something before shaking her head slightly. "No matter. We need to notify the rest of the remaining staff."

"And see if there are any other unaccounted guests staying," Snape added.

McGonagall shot him an annoyed glance. "And that." She looked at Smith's body, visibly at a loss. "Where do we..."

"The Hospital Wing is occupied by Judith, but we can partition a bed there," Harry suggested. "That way I'll be able to keep an eye on the body."

"The body!" Alicia cried, standing straighter. "How can you be so clinical, Harry?! It's Zach, your friend!"

Harry had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from commenting on that ludicrous statement. Instead, he simply said, "I'm a Healer, Alicia. We must keep a cool head in situations like these."

"Right."

"But I'm truly sorry for your loss," he added belatedly.

McGonagall drew her wand and brought it down in a corkscrew motion. The sound of a gong reverberated through the castle, making the floor vibrate. She repeated the spell two more times. "The teachers will know to go to the staffroom," she explained to Harry and Oliver, startled from glaring at his watch.

Harry carefully levitated the body from the table. "We should protect the scene in case the poisoner comes back while we are all there."

"Just keeping an eye on certain teachers would be enough, I'd say." Oliver got up, finally shedding his cloak.

"I'll arrange for one of the ghosts to guard the doors," McGonagall said with a furrow of her brow.

"I shall accompany you, Potter. You might lose a body part along the way, but I shall be the one to explain its absence to the Aurors."

"I can manage the first-year spell just fine," Harry said through his teeth. Having the second wand would make his task much easier, but Snape did not have to be such a prickly bastard about his offer.

Oh, who he was kidding. Snape absolutely did. The man seemed to be no more able to refrain from having a dig at him than the late Zacharias could from being a pompous prat.


The solemn procession with the body of Zacharias Smith floating in front went out of the Great Hall and split. McGonagall, Alicia and Oliver headed for the staffroom while Harry and Snape directed the body upstairs. On their way, they came across Flitwick coming down. The tiny Professor gasped and almost missed his step off the moving staircase, eyes widening under the bushy brows.

"Come, Filius, I'll explain everything," McGonagall called him with a sigh.

Snape opened the door to the Hospital Wing and stood stiffly as Harry lowered the body on the cot at the opposite end of Judith's and conjured a screen around it. From his many stays here, Harry remembered Madam Pomfrey having curtains somewhere but did not want to rummage through her things any more than necessary.

His companion had no such apprehensions. When Harry turned to check briefly on Judith, Snape marched to one of the cabinets and took out an empty glass vial.

"I will draw some blood for examination," he explained. A scowl crossed his face. "Or you can do it yourself to make sure there are no undue manipulations. I believe you know the procedure?"

"I trust you to do it."

"Do you think it's wise, Potter?" The words dripped with irony.

"I don't think you had anything to do with this, Snape. Not your style."

"And what would be my style, pray tell? Flinging him from the Astronomy Tower?"

Harry choked on a laugh. "Wouldn't do to repeat yourself, now would it," he muttered.

"What did you say?"

He coughed, feeling guilty at once. "If you absolutely needed to poison somebody, I'm sure you know a hundred ways to make it look like an accident," he said louder. "A slow-acting formula that would look like a natural disease and never be traced back to you, like Cantarella or something."

Snape looked at him in surprise that he quickly hid under a scowl. "Dabbling in dark potions, Potter?"

"You still seem to have trouble believing it, Professor, but I'm a fully-trained Healer now. We need to know poisons to be able to cure people of them."

Instead of a reply, Snape turned to Smith, rolled the sleeve up the pale limp hand, and put his wand to the forearm. "Sangvento," he articulated, clearly for Harry's benefit. The vial in his other hand slowly filled with dark blood. He put it to his eye level and frowned.

"What is it?"

"I'll inform you after I have the results," he said. "I've noticed you're remarkably unconcerned about the demise of your supposed friend."

Harry filed this deflection away. "I'm not sure why everybody decided he and I were friends."

"No? Smith seemed to believe so. Why, back in September, he would tell anybody willing or unwilling to listen about your meeting over coffee."

"What?" Harry furrowed his brow. "In Septe—Oh, that. I guess we did, in a strict sense of the word." At Snape's unimpressed look, he elaborated. "His mother is the Head of my Ward. He came to see her and ventured into the doctors' lounge, where we—my colleagues and I—were having coffee. He himself refused to drink it, though. Said he'd rather have poison from your stores than our swill."

"Charming."

They stayed silent for a minute, staring at Zacharias's slack face. Harry disagreed with Healer Smith on virtually everything, from patient treatment to whether jeans should be allowed under the Healer robes, and saw her as a stuck-up pureblood who was not half as progressive as she thought herself to be. He wouldn't, however, in a million years wish burying her son upon her. Suddenly contrite about his earlier callous words, he vowed to try and find the culprit while they were snowed in.

He glanced at the Roman profile of the man beside him. Snape appeared to be deep in thought, dark eyes holding a faraway expression. Harry wondered why he believed in the man's innocence, where in the past he would have been determined to believe the worst. Maybe he did kill his colleague, after all. Harry knew nothing about their history in these recent years. Besides, Smith could bring one to homicide, just by being himself.

But no, even though they had not seen each other for years, he knew who Snape was behind that barbed tongue. Of course, the man himself would vehemently oppose the notion, throwing some insults about Harry's intelligence and arrogance for good measure. But he knew that for all his faults, Snape was no cold-blooded murderer, and more importantly, he was not stupid.

"What are you staring at, Potter?" Snape asked without turning his head.

Naturally, Harry could not share any of his thoughts with their object for fear of being hexed, so he drew his wand and ran several diagnostic charms. The fact that he was only thinking of them now to cover up his awkwardness was a little embarrassing.

"The time of death is around five thirty," he said, glancing at the clock on the wall with its short hand pointing west. "I'll leave the full autopsy for the experts but examine the body later if it turns to be necessary. Your blood analysis should be enough for now."

"I'm sure you've waited long for this chance to order me around," Snape said waspishly.

Harry bristled. "This not what I meant and you know it."

"Do I?"

Harry thought back to his words. "I guess I reverted back to my work habits. That's what I'd say to our resident poisons expert, and I certainly wouldn't mean any disrespect by that."

"That would be a first," said Snape. He reached for the pocket of Smith's robe and took out his wand.

"Oh, I didn't think of that!" Harry exclaimed and braced himself for the inevitable barb about his thinking abilities. He walked right into it, he guessed.

To his surprise, however, Snape said nothing, even though the unspoken remark felt loud and clear between them. Whenever Harry thought he figured the man out, Snape always found a way to surprise him.

"Priory Incantato." Snape touched Smith's yew wand with his own. Plain maroon wood contrasted starkly against the carved light handle.

A translucent goblet appeared in the air, and an equally ghostly wand tapped it. In a few seconds, the goblet was filled. The last feat of magic Smith did was to request some wine from the kitchen.

In reverse order, the wand then revealed Accio, Lumos, and the Shoe-Lacing Charm.

"Who ties his shoelaces with magic?!" Harry asked. This spell came in handy several times a week with children, especially when they were too busy throwing a tantrum to bother, but the idea to use it on himself never once crossed his mind.

The shadow of a cork shot up from the wand.

Harry watched as it slowly dissipating over their heads. "Oh. So he was already sloshed."

"It appears so."

"He might already have been a bottle in when he came to the Great Hall. We must check his room. Maybe his own bottle was poisoned, not the wine from the kitchen?"

"That's a possibility, I suppose, but this poison appears to be a fast-acting one." Snape stuffed the wand back into Smith's pocket unceremoniously. His expression turned snide. "Eager to play a detective?"

"Oh, why do you always have to be so…"

"So?" he prompted, as if genuinely curious.

"You know what? Let's go to the staffroom. I bet everyone is there already."

"After you, Potter." Snape made a mocking gesture with his hand.

Harry suppressed a sigh of exasperation.


The staffroom was indeed full when they entered. The voices speaking over each other were heard even through the closed door, but the conversation turned into an awkward silence when Harry and Snape entered. Snape strode to a well-worn plush chair in the corner with his usual flair, seemingly unbothered, although Harry had noticed the tightening in his jaw as he sat down.

There was food on the tables, even though no one except Oliver seemed to be eating. Alicia was attempting to burn a hole in him with her stare from across the desk as he dug into his full English enthusiastically. Her glare only intensified when she looked over at Snape.

"Back from seeing his handiwork already," she muttered, too loud for it not to be deliberate.

"Professor Spinnet!" McGonagall said in a forceful tone of voice from her place at the larger table in the middle of the room. "We've just talked about—" She cut herself off, sending a glance at Snape herself.

Snape pointedly studied his nails.

"I took the liberty of ordering us food here and arranging with the house elves to serve breakfasts for students in their common rooms," Professor Babbling said from across McGonagall. She took taking the toast from one of the many plates on the table and slathered it with jam. "The girls were most upset. And curious. I myself don't remember having such a morbid imagination at that age."

Harry took the seat next to her. Flitwick had his own child-sized chair and table, and a haggard-looking Filch was skulking in the shadows behind the fireplace, leaning heavily on his cane.

The door opened again, and Trelawney swanned inside, shuffling a tarot deck.

"The dreadful gong roused me from my sleep," she proclaimed. "Was my Third Eye proven correct once again? Did this blizzard indeed bring us doom?"

"Professor Smith was found dead in the Great Hall earlier this morning," McGonagall said, sounding tired. There were shadows under her eyes that Harry had not seen yesterday.

Trelawney floundered, cards pouring to the floor. Despite her words, she clearly did not expect her predictions to come true.

Alicia got up to help gather the cards, but Trelawney raised a warning hand.

"Wait, my dear girl. We must be wise to read the message Fate is sending us." She kneeled down, touching the cards that landed face-up on the tip of the pile. "The Devil; Lovers, reversed; the Emperor, reversed; Justice," she mumbled. "All the Major Arcana. Great upheavals are ahead, great upheavals and great revelations. A malicious figure is lurking in the halls of the castle, hands red with blood. But in the end, the truth will out."

"Very informative," Snape said under his breath.

"Divination is an inexact subject, Severus. It will make sense when it's time."

"Thank you for your input, Sybill," McGonagall said dryly as Trelawney gathered her deck and took the chair closest to the fireplace. "Right now, our duty is to the students."

"I did my best to console the first-years, but it would be unwise to leave them to their own devices. And I haven't even got time to see David yet," said Babbling.

"Poor bairn. He tried to keep calm, but you could see how hard his Uncle's death affected him."

Alicia scoffed. "You just bet. He's a nasty little thing, always mouthing off to Zach. Ever since Zach came to work here four years ago, there wasn't a lesson where Shaw didn't act out."

"According to Smith himself, I presume?" Snape asked. "Because Mr. Shaw gave me a very different account of their relationship, one I'm inclined to believe."

"He would. And naturally, you'd take the side of one of your snakes, Snape, no matter what."

"If what happened to Judith Shaw is any indication—"

"It was an accident!"

"One that had no place in a classroom. Zacharias Smith was not fit to teach arse-licking to Kneazles, let alone Defence Against the Dark Arts to children."

Flitwick coughed into his beard.

"Severus!" McGonagall chided. "Show some respect. Mr. Shaw is not the only family of Professor Smith here."

Oh? That was another piece of news to Harry. Although being pureblood in the Wizarding Britain meant Smith had to be somehow related to most other pureblood families. Ron acted all indignant when Sirius told him about his relation to Malfoy, but last year he finally confided that his Great-Aunt Muriel's maiden name was Goyle.

"Despite us sharing the family name—before I took my husband's, of course—Zacharias was actually my second cousin four times removed," Professor Babbling shrugged. "Before he came to teach at Hogwarts, we hadn't seen each other beyond the occasional birth, wedding or wake. That isn't to say I did not appreciate him as a person," she added.

Harry could swear there was a snort coming from Snape, but when he looked over, the man's expression was bored.

"Of course, Bathsheda," Flitwick said sympathetically.

"But what I meant to say is I didn't truly know him, never having time to connect with dear Zacharias with my limited schedule at Hogwarts. Which is more time than David and Judith had with him, I might add."

"It wasn't Zach's fault, either," Alicia spoke up. She seemed to be the only one here to regard Smith with any fondness.

"Wasn't it?" Professor Babbling asked evenly.

"Maybe you don't know, being a distant relative and all that, but Zach told me all about it. The Shaws's mother—Zach's sister—broke his and his family's heart."

"Oh, did she?"

"She cut all ties with the family and got involved with some lowlife who dropped out of Hogwarts after his fourth year—"

"Did Zacharias tell you why exactly Richard Shaw had had to drop out of Hogwarts, girl?" Professor Babbling asked sharply, dropping her amicable expression for the first time.

"N-no, I never asked. It was clearly a sore subject."

McGonagall's lips became one thin line.

"The boy was bitten by a werewolf from the Greyback's pack, if I remember correctly," Flitwick said, shifting uncomfortably.

Professor Babbling nodded. "Very promising young man. But the case was highly publicised, so while the Prophet was running sympathetic headlines, the Board of Governors refused to let him back to continue his studies."

Some unidentified emotion flashed across Alicia's face. "I didn't know that."

"No, you wouldn't. The parents disinherited Eliada over marrying a werewolf but have been telling everybody that it was she who cut ties with the family. When they are forced to acknowledge her existence at all, that is."

Harry thought back to his boss. Healer Smith loved to talk about her son but never even mentioned having a daughter.

"Wizarding World is still backwards in many regards," said Flitwick.

"This kind of attitude is nothing new for the Smith family. We've always been good at magicking a horn to an ass's forehead and calling it a unicorn."

"Isn't it a little harsh, Bathsheda?" McGonagall asked. "The Smiths have always been a light family."

"Naturally, if you mean not following You-Know-Who and presenting an image of law-abiding citizens. It's all about the image, though. Avoiding scandals at all cost. Oh, how I miss Aunt Hepzibah, even though the old hag was laid to the ground half a century ago. Had three husbands, none of whom stuck, swore like a sailor, and lived her life to the fullest well into her hundreds, never caring what others might think."

A picture of Hepzibah Smith from the memories Dumbledore had once shown him popped in Harry's mind. Yes, she had been the type.

"She had a priceless cup belonging to Helga Hufflepuff herself, and everybody tried to outdo each other in brownnosing. Dearest Aunt kept the family on a short leash with threats of crossing them out of her will."

"I thought the Hufflepuff's cup was lost to the centuries," said Flitwick.

"It was lost alright. In the end, she got poisoned, allegedly by her house-elf, and the cup was never to be seen again."

"A house-elf?" Oliver asked, tearing himself away from his sausage and eggs for the first time.

"That was what the family claimed, at least, and they even threw the poor creature into Azkaban. Everybody pretended that the priceless heirloom had not gone missing, and that Aunt Hepzibah did not have a young lover barely out of Hogwarts. Some smooth-talking pretty face working in Knockturn's pawn shop of all things, never to be seen there again after her death. Hopefully, the cogger got a taste of own poison in the end."

Harry wondered if he should reveal the identity of the 'cogger' to her. She deserved to learn what happened to the Aunt she seemed to hold in high regard, but how would he explain his knowledge? He did not fancy getting into details about the Horcruxes or the fate of the Hufflepuff's Cup. He had had enough problems with Gringotts for the breakout to have the Smiths complain about their damaged property. Professor Babbling might seem alright, but his boss still brought up the time when Harry had let a toddler throw up on her designer shoes three years after the incident. He could only imagine her reaction to destroying her family's heirloom with a basilisk fang, piece of Voldemort's soul or not.

"And now, yet another death by poisoning, Bathsheda," said Trelawney. "Are you sure it's not a case of a generational curse?"

"A generational curse of misjudging people, perhaps."

"What do you mean?"

"Aunt Hepzibah should have been careful whom she opened the doors of her house to, and Zacharias... He was always a bit inconsiderate, prone to offend and even hurt people with his thoughtless words and actions, if I'm being honest. And you know what they say about women scorned." Professor Babbling said, busying herself with a teapot.

"What are you implying here, Professor Babbling?" Alicia straightened at Oliver's side.

"I'm not implying anything, my dear. Should I?"

Harry shifted his gaze between them. Had Alicia been involved with Smith?

"I loved Zach and would never do anything to harm him, even after we broke up!" she said hotly.

Oliver frowned at her, his cup freezing mid-motion in his hand.

"You two did make quite a scene of it," Snape drawled.

Alicia's shoulder gave an angry little jerk. "Heat of the moment."

"In fact, your hot defence of his virtues seems rather strange right now, since you pretended he didn't exist for the last two months."

"We were giving each other space."

"Even when he would ask you to pass him salt during breakfast?"

Oh, no. No. You don't get to use our separation to shift the blame from yourself, Snape."

"We checked Zacharias's wand," Harry said quickly before the conversation went further downhill. "And it seems he ordered the wine from the kitchen. Although he had started drinking before coming into the Great Hall, so we don't actually know if the poison wasn't in something he already owned." Snape was reasonably sure it was not the case, and Harry rather agreed, but mutual figerpointing was not going to help the situation.

"We need to consult the house-elves if it was Hogwarts wine," McGonagall said.

Trelawney, who was raising her cup to her lips, quickly put it back. From his table, Harry noticed the suspiciously red shade of her tea, along with the lack of steam.

"How could he order it from the kitchen?" Oliver asked.

"Over holidays, teachers can just say the name of a dish or a drink they wish—within the menu, of course— and it will appear," Babbling explained. "You must remember that from the Yule Ball?"

"I graduated the year before."

"And of course, teachers can communicate their food preferences to the elves."

Harry wondered what preferences Trelawney communicated for the content of the dainty china teapot she had on her table.

"Bloody useful," Oliver said. The idea seemed to rouse him from the sulk he had been in since Alicia's 'love' comment. "I'm always wracking my brain counting my macros. Quidditch players need their daily protein!"

"What brain?" Snape muttered.

"What time do the elves set the tables?" Harry asked McGonagall.

"Usually around five in the morning."

"Are you going to play detective, Harry?" Alicia asked. "I remember you doing that a lot while when we were students." She seemed to be much less favourable to him now that he did not back up her suspicions about Snape.

"Funny, Professor Snape asked the same question."

The meeting only deteriorated from there into more distrustful sniping. Before leaving them to it, Harry remembered to take his own breakfast, haphazardly putting a ham and cheese sandwich together.

He rarely felt particularly hungry and often forgot to eat when he had a lot on his mind—legacy of his miserable childhood with the Dursleys'. His meals were easy to keep track while at Hogwarts, but a year on the run followed by a year of training had him look like an Inferius, and lime-green Healer robes did nothing to help the image. Hermione staged an intervention, going as far as enlisting others in his programme to keep track of his meals, and soon Harry learned to have three of those a day, no matter how hectic it was. Because otherwise, his year-mate would monitor his daily protein for him, and did you know that a single flobberworm had a nutritional value of a whole chicken breast?