The guest bedroom in Madam Pomfrey's quarters was still dark when Harry woke up. He had hoped that a night of sleep would help him put the crazy events of the day before into perspective, but his mind was abuzz with infinite questions. Hopefully, he would still be able to discuss them with Snape. The man had given Harry a cold shoulder after they left the Headmistress's office late last night, but while it rankled, Harry felt he was in the right and had nothing to apologise for.
Even before emerging from the heavy duvet, Harry could hear that the storm showed no signs of stopping. The whole night he had been waking up to its ebbs and flows. This meant that once again, he was spending Christmas Eve at Hogwarts. The brooms he had bought for his godchildren—a proper one for Teddy, a toy one with a saddle for Rose and a broom-shaped mobile for baby Hugo—would have to remain unopened for a little bit longer. Now that he reconnected with Oliver, he was suddenly a little more self-aware of how Quidditch-obsessed he would come across. Especially since he got Ron a Chuddley Cannons' Keeper's jersey.
Harry's bare feet shivered even with a thick rug on the floor. Instantly awake, he hit the dying embers in the fireplace with a fresh Incendio, and a shower later, the room was almost fit for the living. He put on his festive mismatched socks, the only present he got himself every year for Christmas, and his old Weasley jumper the house-elves had washed for him during the night. Not much thought usually went into his clothes, but having something else to wear would be nice. He thought about the soft cashmere turtleneck Hermione gifted him last year and considered transfiguring his jumper into something similar. Transfiguration was never his strong suit, however, and it was not worth the risk of ruining the fabric. With the Weasley family expanding and all the new grandkids on the way, Molly did not have the time to knit a jumper for everyone for a couple of years now, so he wanted this one to last.
No magic could tame his hair, but Harry made a valiant attempt, stopping halfway to wonder where the vain thoughts came from. After all, he had not bothered the day before. Not one to lie to himself, he vanished the conjured comb with a sigh. He knew precisely whom he wanted to impress.
On his way to the staffroom, Harry walked past the ever-cheerful Fat Friar, Hufflepuff's house ghost guarding the doors to the Great Hall. Hopefully, the third time was a charm.
This early, the staffroom was almost empty. Only Professor Babbling was there with a plate of eggs Benedict in front of her, wearing a royal ermine fur robe Harry could not help but stare at for a moment.
"Inside, every woman is a queen, my dear boy. You'd do well to remember that," she said, eyes twinkling.
"You definitely look the part, Professor," Harry said with a grin, sitting down and heaping deliciously fluffy eggs and bacon on his own plate as well.
"Do call me Bathsheda." Babbling looked down at herself and shook her head with a laugh. "I don't know where the house-elves found this ancient thing, but I'm taking it with me." At Harry's questioning look, she explained, "I never stay for the night, so I don't have any spare clothes here. Warming charms make my skin itch, and I can't very well ask any woman on the staff: Minerva has a foot over me, Alicia is a century younger and probably poisoned a member of my family, and Sybill's shawls are all soaked in incense and sherry."
"I thought all the teachers lived at Hogwarts." That explained why he had rarely seen her around.
"Ancient Runes is an elective, so I don't have nearly as many lessons as the core subject teachers. Septima and I come here three days a week," said Babbling. "I used to have quite a heavy schedule when I was younger, portkeying between Hogsmeade and digs all around the world."
"Digs?"
"Old tombs and lost cities, ones that goblins hadn't laid their greedy hands on. Gallivanting with archaeologists and cursebreakers and deciphering old hieroglyphs."
"You deciphered some new language, right?" Harry wracked his mind, trying to remember Hermione's gushing about the subject and the teacher from fifteen years ago.
"Minoan language, yes. Two manic summers in the labyrinths of Crete. We had to leave everything and run from Minotaurs three times over the last summer alone. That's when I decided to focus on lectures and working from my office from then on."
"My friend, Hermione, was your biggest fan when we were students. Now I see why."
"She's a bright one, that girl. Elder Futhark was plain flying for her. Reminds me a bit of Judith, actually," said Babbling.
The door to the staffroom opened, and McGonagall strode inside, her heels drumming a no-nonsense rhythm. "Is this Queen Anne's lost robe, Bathsheda?" she asked, amusement crinkling her eyes.
"I have no idea, but I hope not as I've had already set my sights on it."
She took her place at the head of the table. "It can go in place of that pay raise we discussed."
"Albus would never be such a cheapskate. He was a man of grand gestures."
"Perhaps. But since I was the one managing the finances and other lowly matters, the outcome would still be the same."
Babbling made a queenly gesture with her shoulders. "You're twisting my arm, Minerva. Didn't Sybill see great misfortune in your teacup that could be avoided by doubling the teachers' salaries last year?"
"No, it was just her own salary."
"I'll have her scry for my doubled paycheck when she comes down for breakfast."
"Based from what I saw yesterday evening, I doubt she will," McGonagall scoffed.
"Too much zeal in communicating with the world of spirits?" Babbling asked with a wry smile.
"She was rushing from a suit of armour at the bottom of her tower, convinced somebody was behind it. So I took away the spirits she was communicating with and got her to her room—which was no small feat, mind you."
"What if she did see someone?" Harry chimed in.
"When Sybill gets like that, she's not in any state to distinguish between reality and delusions of her inebriated mind. When I got back to her Tower, she rambled that Albus Dumbledore's ghost haunted her Christmas stocking." McGonagall pursed her lips in disapproval. "She keeps herself relatively in check when the students are around, but the holidays are always like that."
"Poor dear," Babbling shook her head. "Zacharias's death and waiting for the murderer to jump out from the nearest corner is taking a toll on all of us. Yesterday's trip to the library to grab my books was a white-knuckle experience," Babbling said, gesturing to a stack of books at the nearby table.
"I don't think the perpetrator would still be in the library after all this time," McGonagall said, busying herself with a teapot. "But you are right, Bathsheda, this is the most trying holiday since 1998." She turned to Harry. "How's Miss Shaw faring, Harry?"
He noticed that she had not tried to deny the perpetrator's existence this time but was quick to change the subject. "I'll be waking her up from the coma today."
"That's great news!" Babbling exclaimed. "I'm sure young David would be beside himself with joy. Will she be up for visitors today? I'd hate the girl to be alone on Christmas Eve."
"If everything goes well, you can come after lunch."
"I'll make her my special Christmas cookies, a family recipe. Some Smiths still know the value of that."
Just as Harry finished his breakfast and rose to leave the staffroom to Babbling and McGonagall's bickering, Snape ushered David in. As much as Harry wanted to, he had no opportunity to discuss anything besides giving the boy a heads up about his sister. Snape made a show of being inconvenienced having to escort David to the Hospital Wing, from which Harry assumed he was still sulking. Since Snape promptly refused when Babbling offered to take over the duty, however, he could not be too serious about it.
On a whim, Harry charmed mistletoe over the door to the office and lit the fairy lights on the small tree on the bedstand at Judith's cot as he waited for Judith to wake up. A half dozen potions stood lined up there as well, prepared in case of any complications. So far, Harry's charms had not found anything amiss. He had levitated her gently down onto the cot and dispelled the magical stasis two hours ago, so the steady rising and falling of her chest were the result of natural sleep.
Judith turned her head restlessly from side to side—a sign that her spine was healed correctly—and her rust-coloured eyelashes fluttered open.
She looked at Harry in sluggish confusion. "Harry Potter? What a strange dream."
"Hello, Judith," Harry said, putting his hand on her shoulder to prevent her from trying to sit up. "Yes, I'm Harry Potter, your Healer. I'll be helping you to get better until Madam Pomfrey returns, which might be a few days. How're you feeling?"
"Like I've been run over by the Knight Bus."
"Understandable. Please don't try to get up for now."
"Have I missed Transfiguration?"
"It's the twenty-fourth of December."
"No way!" Judith's eyes widened. "What was the spell Roberts used? It hurt so much! Dad always says the transformation is like all of his bones melting, and that's what it felt like. My father has lycanthropy," she added, sticking her chin out, a gesture she shared with her brother. As a daughter of a werewolf, she must have faced a lot of prejudice from peers and lousy Uncles, which only seem to make her Hufflepuff loyalty stronger.
Was Teddy, who was going to start Hogwarts next year, destined to be on defensive about his parentage as well? Harry resolved to talk about this with McGonagall after the murderer was found, for whatever good it would do.
He smiled encouragingly to put Judith at ease before nodding. "Yes, I know. My family friend, the father of my godson, was a werewolf. He described it similarly once. It was, in fact, a Bone-Melting Curse."
"Roberts doesn't like me much, but I never expected something like that."
"Judy!" David's voice loudly demanded from the door. "Why didn't you say anything about that b—girl bullying you?"
"If you want to stay in the ward, behave," Harry said in warning. "No shouting and upsetting your sister."
The boy hurried over, leaving the dark figure of Severus Snape to skulk at the entrance.
"Sorry," David said, rocking on his heels. "But this Roberts girl is a right actress. Apologising and wailing that she did not know what had come over her until your bestie showed up and set the record straight. You should have told me."
Judith made a face. "And have you overreact? I can deal with Roberts myself."
"She almost killed you!"
"I still cannot believe it," she said with a frown. "Whatever Iris told you, Roberts isn't really that horrible. She is Ravenclaw's Queen Bee and above us peons, but her idea of bullying is to make stupid comments about my clothes. Not curses."
"Did something happen between you two in the lesson?" Harry asked. With Smith's murder overshadowing everything, the matter would likely be dropped otherwise, so he wanted to set the record straight.
"No, she looked really apologetic before firing the spell. Before the lesson started, she said that she was sorry it had to be this way. I thought she meant her ruining my Charms project."
"She was sorry it had to be that way?" David repeated incredulously.
"Was there anything else unusual in her behaviour?" Harry asked, on guard now. The situation was definitely weird. What were the odds of two mystery attacks happening in a close succession independently of each other?
"Now that I think about it, yes." Judith creased her brow again. "Roberts was late to the lesson and couldn't find her homework until her friend got it from her own bag. She was also really clumsy throughout which is not how she usually is." Startled, Judith asked, "Do you think she was Confounded? David once was during the Quidditch Match, and he thought the Quaffle was a garden gnome."
"And I still caught it," David said, momentarily smug. His expression darkened again. "If this girl was acting weird, Smith is even more to blame."
Judith looked at him in worry. "I hope you didn't get in trouble with him because of this?"
David gulped, eyes darting to the dark screen. "N-not really. You see, Judy…" he trailed off.
"I think that's enough excitement for today," Harry interrupted. The girl could learn about Smith's fate later when she regained more of her strength. "Judith needs rest and recuperation right now. You can stay, David, but only if you don't keep her awake."
David gave him a grave nod, settling on the chair.
"I've only just woke up," Judith said, eyelids drooping.
"No protests. I'll be in the office. David, call me if your sister needs anything." Harry tucked Judith's blanket in, noting that she was half-asleep again. He turned to where Snape had been standing to find the man already behind his shoulder.
He really wished Snape would stop playing 'catch the rulebreaker' with him.
Thinking of much more interesting games they could be playing instead, Harry went to his office. Snape followed, striding inside with more drama than Harry felt was warranted. Barely refraining from rolling his eyes, Harry left the door of the office ajar and cast a Muffliato on it instead. Snape looked oddly at him, and it took Harry a moment to guess why.
"Do you mind me using your spell?" he asked. After a decade, casting it felt as routine as Lumos.
"This one, no," said Snape. "There wouldn't be much point in any case; it's become common knowledge by now. I regularly find students using it to protect their inane conversations against me. I'm blaming you for that fully."
"I didn't share it with many people, but useful spells find their way around. Do you still create them?"
"Occasionally." Snape shrugged noncommittally, leaning against the mantelpiece.
"You have to tell me about them one day."
"Do I?" He kept Harry's gaze. "Well then. Perhaps if you visit me in Azkaban."
"You're not going to Azkaban."
"It's a predictable outcome."
"Predictable outcome of war would have been us both dying miserably. Yet here we stand. We'll find out who the real murderer is." Harry flopped onto Poppy's chair. "Do you think it's the same person who cursed Judith?"
"I have no doubt of that."
"Imperius or Polyjuice?"
"Clumsiness and disorientation can be a by-product of an inexpertly cast Imperius Curse, but I find it much more likely that they were a result of the attacker being unaccustomed to Miss Roberts's body."
"Yeah, I remember feeling really awkward when I Polyjuiced into Goyle—" Harry cut himself short.
"Why would you need to transform into Gregory Goyle of all people?"
"Er, long story."
"The one that involves Boomslang skin from my stores?"
"I have no idea what you are talking about." Harry willed his flush away. "Anyway, why would anyone do that to Judith?"
"That's obvious." Snape took the Hogwarts snow globe from the mantelpiece, studying it instead of looking at Harry. The globe looked much more delicate in his long, potion-stained fingers than in Alicia's earlier. "The Bone-Melting Curse will not kill you immediately unless you're very unlucky but requires extensive medical treatment."
The meaning took a moment to sink in, distracting Harry from staring at Snape's hands. "So you're suggesting they did that to bring me into Hogwarts."
"This is the only reason I see in this situation."
"But how did they know Madam Pomfrey would call me?"
"Poppy mentioned her granddaughter-in-law having a difficult pregnancy and asking her to deliver the baby over holidays."
"And we worked together before. She might've mentioned that too in the staffroom or something."
"She did," Snape admitted with a lemony expression.
"Somehow, I'm not surprised it's all about me," Harry said bitterly. He leapt to his feet and looked out of the door to where Judith lay, asleep.
David glanced up at him and beamed, mouthing 'Thank you'. Harry nodded and gave him the thumbs up, feeling his insides turn to ice with familiar guilt.
"Stop wallowing this instance," Snape said.
"I'm not wallowing." Harry sounded sullen even to his own ears.
"You do. Miss Shaw is awake and will recover. Your martyrdom is misplaced and not attractive in the slightest."
He returned to his chair, both annoyed and grateful to Snape for this attempt to snap him out of his sudden funk, even if it was delivered in Snape's usual abrasive manner. "I bet the attacker chose her because she's the daughter of a werewolf. Even if the parents had kicked a fuss and contacted the Aurors, there would have been no investigation."
"This was certainly a factor, although I'd say animosity between Smith and the Shaws played an equally important role."
Once again, Harry felt unease at the prospects of his godson, another child of a werewolf, here at Hogwarts. "I had hoped that after all this time things would have improved at Hogwarts."
"Minerva is attached to the idea of preserving Albus's vision of the school." Snape stared at the castle behind the glass dome.
"You don't agree?"
"It's as good card as any to play against unreasonable demands of the Ministry and the Board, and I shudder to think what would happen if some innovations I've heard from my colleagues were to be implemented. But there's definitely room for improvement."
"Do you regret not being the Headmaster anymore?"
"What a horrifying thought," Snape said, aghast. "All the paperwork would succeed where the Dark Lord and generations of brainless students failed and bring me to an early grave. The only good thing about that position would be not having to fight tooth and nail for my ingredient budget every year." His expression darkened as he put the snow globe back onto the mantelpiece. "Of course, it's a moot point since no one in their right mind would allow a former Death Eater to occupy this position. Minerva had to deal with enough outcry when I chose to remain as a teacher."
"So you actually enjoy teaching?" Harry blurted before realising how it must have sounded.
For a man easily offended, however, Snape did not appear to be particularly bothered. "Someone has to do this thankless task." Weirdly enough, this sounded close to a yes.
Harry always assumed Snape hated his job and had been surprised when he took his old position a decade ago. Perhaps he continued out of habit, seeking normalcy after his spying career had been finally over for good after the war. After all, Snape had spent a better part of his life within these walls. But nothing Snape ever did had a single, straightforward reason.
"And since this is my task, I do not tolerate being disrespected in front of my students," Snape added with sudden steel in his voice. It seemed he was still mad about yesterday.
"I do respect you, and I might like you now, but I was not going to stand aside while you're getting carried away scaring those little girls."
"You might like me now?" Snape repeated incredulously, as if Harry had claimed that the ghosts were solid. Trust him to focus on the very thing Harry was not ready to discuss.
"Well, I thought it was obvious. Trust me, this came as a surprise for me too. Not that..." Damn. Smooth-talking was not his strong suit, but he didn't have such a case of foot-in-his-mouth since that disastrous date with Cho. Heat rising to his cheeks, Harry decided that it was time to cover up. "Anyway. Don't you think it's strange how the Headmistress is so adamant that there's nobody else in the castle?"
Snape regarded Harry for a long, silent moment, making him feel even more wrong-footed. "Yes," he said finally. "This surprised me as well."
A cough from the wall broke the tension Harry did not realise had built between them. Dilys Dervent appeared in her frame and looked between them quizzically before passing McGonagall's request for Snape to join her in her office. With a nod and an assessing look to Harry, Snape took his leave. Harry stared at his retreating back, wondering which of the two sentiments he had agreed with.
