It took everything in Remus's power not to go after Mairead. He wanted to wrap the crying girl in his arms and soothe her, to whisper comforting words that would block out everything bad in her life, to apologize over and over until she forgave him. But he knew her well enough by now to know she wouldn't let him anywhere near her after he had just destroyed all the trust he had meticulously built with her over the past three months. So instead he settled for rounding on the other two professors in the room.
"What in God's name was that about?"
Remus looked back and forth between Dumbledore and Professor Sprout. Professor Sprout opened her mouth to reply, looking guilty, but he held up a hand and spoke again before she could.
"Actually, she made it pretty clear what that was about. So my question then becomes: why in God's name didn't you tell me about it?"
Dumbledore bowed his head. "I should have prepared you for this possibility," he acknowledged gravely. "I feared she might respond this way."
Remus looked at the older man in barely controlled outrage. "You 'feared she might respond this way?' And you brought her here anyway? Why?"
"Because I feel it is important for her to learn Defense Against the Dark Arts," Dumbledore replied simply, no trace of shame on his face or in his voice.
"Yes, but - how - why - she's clearly been traumatized!" Remus was actually spluttering and raising his voice. He realized he was losing control. He paused and took a few deep breaths to clear his head. When he felt calmer, he quietly asked, "Why did you agree to this meeting knowing her history of being mistreated by previous faculty members?"
Dumbledore considered Remus silently for a few moments before responding with a question of his own. "How much do you know about Mairead, Remus?"
Remus frowned. "Not much," he admitted.
"Tell me what you do know."
"I know she's in her Seventh Year," Remus began slowly, not sure where this was going. "I know she's a Hufflepuff, she works in the library, obviously she's a partial Squib..." he looked up at Dumbledore, trying to figure out what the wizard was looking for.
Dumbledore's fingers were steepled and he was resting his mouth on them. "What else?" he asked softly.
Remus shrugged. "She wants to be a Healer," he went on, casting about for more information on the girl. "She likes Muggle culture, she... she likes cats, she lives at St. Hedwig's during the holidays -"
"And who is her father?" Dumbledore broke in at last.
"Kenneth O'Keefe," Remus responded immediately.
Dumbledore nodded. "You've met Kenneth O'Keefe, Remus. You barely escaped with your life, as I recall. What kind of upbringing do you think Mairead had with that man for a father?"
Remus frowned again. "Probably a very unhappy one," he said. "Kenneth O'Keefe was a sadistic monster."
Dumbledore nodded once more. "And do you recall who was responsible for sending Kenneth to Azkaban?"
"Mad-Eye made the arrest, I thought."
"Alastor made the arrest, but you and I both know there is more to sending a Death Eater to Azkaban than merely arresting him." Dumbledore stood now and walked over to a window. The gloomy light cast him in a relief that showed his age, all of his experience and his memories. "Whose testimony secured a conviction for O'Keefe?"
Remus had no idea. "His wife's?" he guessed.
"Kenneth O'Keefe murdered his wife," Dumbledore reminded him. Then, gazing out onto the Hogwarts grounds, he said, "Kenneth murdered his wife in front of his daughter when she was eight years old. And she was nine years old when she stood before the Wizengamot. Her testimony was damning. She spoke out not only against her father, but against Walden Macnair, Lucius Malfoy, Barty Crouch, and the Lestranges. What do you think would happen to a witch like Mairead should Lord Voldemort ever return to power?"
"She'd be a sitting duck," said Remus softly, remembering McGonagall's words from weeks ago. He had been mildly affronted to hear a student referred to in such a manner, but now he saw that he had been naïve. Dumbledore didn't want Mairead to attain an O.W.L. in Defense so she could achieve her career goals; he wanted her to have a fighting chance should there be an attempt on her life. No wonder he had required the girl to continue to audit a class she had no affinity for.
"I was there the day Mairead testified," Dumbledore said, clasping his hands behind his back. "I doubt I will ever forget the courage she showed that day. Or the terror." Dumbledore finally turned and looked at Remus again. "Please forgive me if you do not approve of my methods, but I felt a person like her deserves every chance I can give her to live a full life. And despite what you may be thinking right now, I would never subject one of my students to something I did not believe they were strong enough to handle."
Remus bowed his head, ashamed for having doubted the Headmaster.
"So what do we do now?" Professor Sprout spoke up at last.
"Now we wait," Professor Dumbledore said, returning to his seat. "And we see if Mairead changes her mind."
Remus shook his head. "She didn't seem like she was open to changing her mind," he said doubtfully.
"Just give it time," counseled Dumbledore. "She trusts you."
Remus scoffed. "Not anymore."
"Mairead isn't one to hold a grudge," said Professor Sprout hopefully.
"No," Dumbledore agreed, "and she likes you, Remus, and I have found that affection is much harder to destroy than trust. Give her time and she may come to you."
"You'd like working with Mairead, Remus," Professor Sprout said. "She's not normally like this. She's very sweet. I think you would like her."
"I know she isn't," said Remus. "She was obviously under a great deal of strain. And I do like her."
"As do I," said Dumbledore thoughtfully. "She reminds me of another young girl I used to know. She, too, was traumatized at a young age and as a result she also had trouble controlling her magic."
"What happened to her?" Remus asked quietly.
A shadow passed over Dumbledore's face and for a ghost of a moment he looked the saddest that Remus had ever seen him.
"I failed her," Dumbledore said softly. His blue eyes shifted to look up at Remus. "I would very much prefer that history not repeat itself."
...
Mairead spent the next week hiding from the world. The student body's attention had finally turned to something other than her run-in with Sirius Black (namely, to Harry Potter and his freefall from his broomstick), so turning invisible was much easier than it had been at the beginning of the month.
She thanked her St. Hedwig's compatriots for their help and released them from guard duty. This made it easier to avoid her friends, and avoiding her friends meant avoiding questions. She had no idea how she was going to tell Cedric about his father's letter. She had no idea how she was going to tell any of her friends about Amos Diggory's letter, having made a fool of herself with her excitement over the upcoming holidays. Every time she thought of it, burning shame washed over her.
All she wanted was to be alone. Having spent all of her anger in the great conflagration in Dumbledore's office, she was left feeling hollow, hopeless, and exhausted. All she wanted to do was sleep. Getting out of bed felt almost painfully difficult, and she lost long stretches of time over the week staring into space. She felt useless, broken and unwanted, unreliable and prone to hysteria, doomed to failure and too stupid and incompetent to do anything about it.
In Herbology lessons, Mairead stayed as far away from Professor Sprout as she could. The Head of House had tried to apologize to her after class on Monday morning, saying that they had meant well and that she hoped Mairead would give Professor Lupin another chance to help her. This landed with Mairead as less of an apology and more of a redoubling of their earlier efforts to persuade her, and so Mairead found herself reaching for another coping mechanism she had adopted early in life when around adults: she smiled, spoke politely but noncommittally, and shut herself up in a closet inside her mind where no one could touch her.
Mairead skipped Defense Against the Dark Arts on Tuesday and had no plans to go back. She had no idea what awaited her should she have to face Lupin again. He may have lost all of her respect, but he was still a Professor - a Professor to whom she had raised her voice, sworn at, called a moron, and stormed out on. She figured it was best to steer clear of him entirely. She skipped meals if he was in the Great Hall when she went, she ducked into alcoves or classrooms if she saw him coming down a corridor, and had plotted places to hide from him if he came into the library during her shifts, though he never did.
What with being kicked out of Potions and boycotting Defense lessons, Mairead suddenly found herself with a lot of time on her hands. She finally managed to get ahead on her homework, and even found and read a different Muggle novel for Muggle Studies. There was no way she was going to continue reading David Copperfield. Just looking at the cover reminded her of how smitten she had been with the man who had recommended it. She had thought that perhaps he had liked her. Now she knew he had been trying to get close to her so that he could use her. A dark part of her mind wondered if he had deliberately manipulated her into falling for him so that it would be easier to take advantage of her.
She used the rest of her now-free periods to practice wandless magic, as her relationship with her new wand had not improved. By Thursday afternoon she was beginning to experience some success focusing her mind to channel her magic through her fingertips instead of her wand. She was sitting beneath her willow tree staring out at the lake, having managed to cast an Impervius Charm on her clothing to repel the never-ending rain, when she became aware that she was not alone.
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a figure standing under a nearby beech tree, watching her silently. In what she hoped was a subtle maneuver, she turned slightly to pick a clover and stole a glance at the figure. With an unpleasant jolt of adrenaline, Mairead realized that it was Professor Lupin. He must have come looking for her after she skipped his class for the second time. His hair was darker than usual, being wet from the rain, but his hands were in his pockets and he leaned casually against the beech tree as if he hadn't noticed the weather.
She instantly knew that he had seen her peeking, and though she immediately went back to staring at the lake, he seemed to have taken her spotting him as an invitation to approach, for he shrugged away from the tree and slowly strolled over to her.
Fine, she thought, let him come over here. I've said all I have to say.
She stubbornly refused to look at him, even when he sat down on the sodden ground beside her. He kept a few feet of distance between them. Perhaps he was worried she would start railing at him again if he got too close.
The two sat in silence for what felt like ages. Mairead swiftly glanced at him peripherally, and saw that he, too, was gazing at the lake contemplatively. Water dripped off the ends of his hair, but he didn't seem to care that he was getting soaked.
What's he playing at? she thought irritably. Does he honestly think I'm going to be the one to crack and talk? What does he think he's going to get? An apology? Fucking fine. Let the bastard sit there until he washes away.
Finally, after what must have been an eternity, Lupin spoke.
"I like you, Mairead," he began. Mairead said nothing, did nothing to acknowledge that she had even heard him. But he went on.
"You're kind, you're a hard worker, you're conscientious, you're curious and open-minded, you're far cleverer than you give yourself credit for, you're creative, you think on your feet, and you've got an excellent sense of humor. You drop everything to help someone out, and you expect nothing in return. You're cheerful, you're compassionate, you're resilient, and you are quite possibly the most endearing person on the entire planet."
Mairead could see out of the corner of her eye that he was looking directly at her now, but she still refused to look over at him. What was he trying to do? Flatter her into acquiescence?
"But the thing I find most astounding about you," Lupin continued, "is that you are all of these things in spite of the fact that you have been dealt a truly lousy hand in life - and I know you know that, because you are far too intelligent not to realize it. Life has not been kind to you, and yet every single day you choose to be kind anyway. You choose not to let it destroy you. And that, Mairead, is the single most remarkable thing about you."
Mairead could feel her throat growing tight. She still stared out at the lake, but tears were beginning to obscure her view of the water. She hugged her arms more tightly around her knees and gritted her teeth, trying to breathe steadily.
Lupin sat back on his hands. "But here's the problem," he said more quietly now. "I began to like you so much that I forgot to respect you."
Mairead turned her head to look at him before she could stop herself. She jerked her head back just as quickly, but she knew he had seen her surprise. And she saw nothing but sincerity and sorrow in his dark grey eyes.
"I got so caught up in the idea that I could help you that I never stopped to ask you whether you wanted my help," said Lupin softly. "I made an assumption, that assumption was wrong, and you got hurt... I am sovery sorry. I don't think I can communicate to you how sorry I am. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you."
Mairead buried her face in her knees to hide her tears from Lupin. She stiffened her shoulders to try to stop them shaking.
"That's all I came here to say," Professor Lupin said. "Please take care of yourself."
She heard the grass rustle as he rose. When she looked up, he was gone.
...
Remus's heart gave a great leap of excitement when he saw a familiar head of curly copper hair among the crowd of Seventh Years filing into his classroom the following Tuesday afternoon. Mairead didn't greet him the way she used to, with a big smile and a shy wave. Indeed, she didn't acknowledge him at all, but rather headed straight for a seat in the very back of the classroom the way she had on her first day of his class.
Very well. That was fine.
He began teaching the lesson and Mairead sat silently in the back taking notes. She was not engaged the way she normally was in his classes; she never once raised her hand or laughed at any of the humor he worked into his lecture, but he could tell she was paying attention. Remus normally liked to have all of his students participate in class discussions, but he was no fool. He knew a test when he saw one. And Remus was determined he should pass Mairead's test. Part of him wanted to be the most engaging and entertaining he could be, to draw her back in, but he suspected that anything out of the ordinary would only result in scaring her off again. So he treated her like a frightened animal. He followed her lead and behaved as he usually did. He would not ignore her, but he would not go after her, either.
He settled for finishing the lesson as he normally would have, and as she was leaving at the end of class - via the route closest to the wall and not past his desk so she could thank him and say good-bye like she used to - he bid her farewell with a quiet, "It's good to see you, Mairead."
She paused by the doorway. Her face was carefully neutral but her green eyes were full of wariness and uncertainty. She was clearly sizing him up and Remus waited patiently for her to finish her assessment.
Finally, she gave a tiny nod, unsmiling, and continued out of the classroom.
Remus collapsed into his chair with an enormous sigh and a small smile.
He had passed her test.
...
Mairead had stayed by the lake and sobbed after Professor Lupin had left. She hadn't realized just how badly she had needed someone to say something nice to her until he had come along and given her more compliments than she could count.
He always seemed to know what she needed, and the thought both attracted and frightened Mairead. It had taken every ounce of her courage to go back to Defense Against the Dark Arts, but she had dragged herself there nevertheless. She knew that the ball was on her end of the Quidditch pitch now that he had apologized so sincerely and so well. Her heart had been pounding and her skin prickling for the first quarter of the lesson until she realized that he wasn't going to force her to participate in class, nor was he going to call her out for her unexcused absences.
She had told herself that if he did anything out of the ordinary, anything that made her uncomfortable, she would leave and never go back, but he had left her to her own devices, ignored her coldness and lack of respect, and had even gone so far as to welcome her back in his quiet, nonthreatening way. Everything he had done had been perfect, just like he (almost) always was.
She had told herself she would hate him until she died, that the fires of her anger would never extinguish. And yet, she found herself looking forward to seeing him again in class on Thursday, which would be a double lesson with Slytherin. She even went so far as to arrive early so she could hear the comforting rumble of his voice through the door.
You truly are pathetic, she thought to herself. But you are NOT allowed to smile at him. Repeat: do NOT smile at Lupin!
When she arrived, however, she could not hear his voice, nor the voices of his students answering his questions or shouting out ideas like they normally did. In fact, the classroom was eerily silent.
That's strange, she thought.
It was even stranger to see the Second Year Ravenclaw class file out of the room silently and ashen-faced at the end of the lesson. One student was sniffling quietly.
What the hell...?
Mairead walked into the room and immediately saw what was off.
Professor Lupin was not waiting at the front of the class. Professor Snape was.
Mairead's footsteps stuttered when she saw him, and her foot caught on an uneven bit of stone in the floor and she stumbled into a desk. Snape turned his cold gaze on her and sneered.
"Pity," he said softly. "I had been so enjoying not having you in my classes, Miss O'Keefe."
For one moment, Mairead considered turning around and leaving the class, but she had a feeling that, while Lupin may have tolerated her coming and going as she pleased, Professor Snape would not be so understanding. She headed for the back of the classroom and took a seat, head down as low as she could go.
Sarah Quimby flopped down in the seat next to her. "Hey, darling!" she said cheerily.
Mairead smiled at her friend, trying not to look as anxious as she felt. "Hey, Sarah."
"Where's Lupin, d'you think?" said Sarah, pulling out her textbook and not sounding like she particularly cared either way.
"Not sure," Mairead answered quietly.
"Maybe he's off feeling up some other cute Seventh Year girl," Sarah said with a grin, waggling her eyebrows. She had not left off this tactic of teasing Mairead all month.
Mairead immediately felt a flush rise on her face. "Please don't," she moaned, putting her head down on the desk. She wasn't sure what was worse: the reminder of the way Professor Lupin had touched her, or the thought of him touching another girl instead of her.
"Why? You jealous?" Sarah teased. She elbowed Mairead when Mairead didn't respond. "Hey! I've been wondering: d'you think Lupin did mouth-to-mouth on you, too?"
"Stop it!" Mairead snapped. Her head shot up to glare at Sarah and she realized that Professor Snape was watching them.
"Temper, temper," he said silkily. "Five points from Hufflepuff for shouting in my classroom."
Mairead huffed angrily and shot a look at Sarah, who smiled apologetically and raised her hands in surrender.
"Sorry," she mouthed.
Mairead shook her head. "Forget it," she whispered and turned her attention to the front of the class, where it appeared that Snape was belittling Professor Lupin's teaching skills.
"This is the second unhappy occasion when I have had to fill in for Professor Lupin," Snape was saying, "and despite my friendly suggestion that he leave notes for his colleagues who are unfortunate enough to have to substitute for him, he has left me with next to nothing." Here he gestured at what looked to Mairead like a thick folder full of notes.
"As a result, I have no real idea what you may have covered." Snape paused to smile unpleasantly. "Though I can assume from what I experienced from the classes I covered for him twenty-nine days ago that you know very little that will help you pass your N.E.W.T. exam at the end of this year."
Mairead wasn't sure what it was that made her do it - whether it was righteous outrage at seeing someone else treated unfairly by Snape or whether it was that her loyalty to Professor Lupin hadn't died as entirely as she thought it had - but she suddenly found herself talking. "That's completely unfair!" she said indignantly. "He's obviously left you extensive notes and our entire curriculum is built around helping us pass the N.E.W.T.s!"
One of Snape's eyebrows twitched. "I think that will cost you ten more points from Hufflepuff, Miss O'Keefe," he said, sounding as though he were enjoying himself thoroughly. "And I don't entirely know why you speak as though you will be passing any of your N.E.W.T.s, let alone Defense Against the Dark Arts."
Mairead scowled openly at him.
"As I was saying," Snape went on pointedly, "since Professor Lupin left dreadfully disorganized and, frankly, indecipherable notes on this class, I shall be forced to improvise. And so today, we will be covering werewolves."
A frisson of confusion went around the classroom. Hesitantly, Statia raised her hand.
"Yes, what is it?" said Snape impatiently.
"Erm," Statia began uncertainly. "Only... well... we sort of... covered werewolves back in Fifth Year, sir."
Mairead, along with most of the Hufflepuffs in the classroom, nodded in agreement. Encouraged, Statia went on, "And I just... I sort of feel like they were maybe on the O.W.L. exam, and Professor Lupin said that if something was on the O.W.L. it's unlikely to be on the -"
Snape turned his head slightly to one side, forcibly reminding Mairead of a snake deciding when and how to strike. "You 'sort of feel like they were maybe on the O.W.L. exam'?" he mocked softly. "Five more points from Hufflepuff for misconduct." Statia ducked her head and looked down at her desk, blushing and looking miserable.
Snape addressed the whole class. "Professor Lupin is incorrect... as he so often is. Werewolves are among the darkest, foulest creatures to roam the earth, and they are just as likely to come up on a N.E.W.T. exam as an O.W.L. exam. But since you all know so much about werewolves already, I assume somebody ought to be able to tell me how to distinguish a werewolf from a true wolf."
He looked around the classroom, but no one raised their hands. The Hufflepuff students all now seemed hesitant to draw Snape's attention to themselves, and the Slytherins appeared to be enjoying themselves far too much to interfere. Finally, Mairead sighed and raised her hand.
"A werewolf's snout is shorter, the pupils of their eyes are smaller, their tails are tufted, and they exclusively hunt humans, whereas regular wolves are shy and avoid humans," she rattled off, trying her best to sound bored.
"Well, well, someone is a great fan of werewolves, I see," Snape responded, black eyes glittering dangerously. "Although I can't say that surprises me."
"No, I'm just a great fan of following the curriculum," replied Mairead evenly, not caring if she angered him. What was he going to do? He had already kicked her out of her favorite class and ruined her chances at the future she dreamed of. Right at that moment, she felt she had very little to lose. "For example, right now we're supposed to be studying nonverbal spells. It's supposed to be our end of term exam and - oh, hey, look at the time! - it's the end of term."
A long silence followed. The bravado Mairead had felt only moments before evaporated instantaneously, and she knew she had gone too far.
"You wish to study nonverbal magic, do you?" said Snape, his voice quieter than ever. "Very well. All of you! On your feet! Front of the classroom. Now!" he snapped at the class.
Several students jumped. They rose uncertainly, looking wary, though many Slytherins were smiling in malevolent expectation.
Snape waved his wand and the desks all slid across the floor to the back of the room, leaving a clear space towards the front. The Hufflepuff students clustered together, but the Slytherin students began to spread out as if seeking out the best view.
"Miss O'Keefe wants you to practice nonverbal spells," Snape said, his voice threateningly gleeful. "And since she is so devoted to your schooling, she will be the object on whom you shall practice."
Mairead froze.
"What?!"
To Mairead's surprise, it was Henry Gold, a Hufflepuff boy who had always been rude to her and treated her with suspicion, who spoke up.
"You can't use a witch as target practice!" cried Gold.
Snape looked at Gold impassively. "I am not using a witch as target practice. I am using a Squib as target practice," he said coldly.
Gold turned to Mairead. "Run for it," he advised her.
But Mairead was frozen to the floor in fear. She looked uncertainly towards the door, and it seemed impossibly far away.
"Come, Miss O'Keefe," said Snape. "We've all heard what an eager participant you are in this class. You're Professor Lupin's little assistant, aren't you? Now, you just stay right there, and the rest of you will be along the opposite wall," he indicated where he wanted the others to stand. Mairead watched as the Slytherins grouped along the far side of the classroom, wands in hand. Her Hufflepuff classmates did not budge.
"NOW!" Snape bellowed, making everyone jump. Not a single Hufflepuff moved.
Snape's lip curled in disgust. "Very well. Fifty points from Hufflepuff for insubordination! The rest of you," here he turned to the Slytherins. "On my signal, you shall all cast a hex or a jinx on O'Keefe... nonverbally," he said with a sneer. "No curses," he added as an afterthought. "Let's make this a fair fight. For your part, O'Keefe," he said, turning to Mairead. "You will try to block their spells. Let's see if we can't scare some magic out of you after all."
Snape stepped back, leaving a clear line of fire between Mairead and the Slytherin class. Mairead shot a desperate, pleading look at Sarah. Sarah dropped her gaze, looking guilty. Mairead saw that Sarah's wand was in her hand, just like the others.
"Now, on my count," said Snape, and suddenly the Hufflepuff students exploded in protest.
"Please, sir!"
"You can't!"
"How is this a fair fight?!"
"This can't be legal!"
"SILENCE!"
The room fell quiet, and Mairead could hear her own ragged breathing.
"Take aim," Snape said.
"Everybody get in front of her," said Henry Gold, drawing his wand. As one, the Hufflepuffs moved towards Mairead. Snape flicked his wand and the students all crashed into an invisible barrier. He turned back to address the Slytherins.
"Three," Snape said. The Slytherins took aim.
"Two," Snape counted down. Mairead glared at Snape.
"Go to hell," she snarled.
"One."
There was a blinding flash of light. Mairead took a deep breath and braced for impact as fifteen spells exploded out of the Slytherins' wands and hit her squarely in the chest.
...
Remus raked a hand through his hair and sighed tiredly as his Second Year Ravenclaws left the classroom. It was Tuesday afternoon, and he had been fielding the same questions and complaints all day from his students whose last lessons had been overseen by Snape. Despite the extensive notes and instructions that Remus had left this time, he was not surprised to learn that Snape had once again focused his lessons on werewolves. He did not get the impression that any of his students was suspicious of him, but he was still grateful that his next class was his last of the day.
The Seventh Year Hufflepuffs crowded into the room, and Remus could immediately tell from their faces that something was wrong - or rather, more wrong than could be explained by a frustrating class wasted revising werewolves. He scanned the crowd and frowned. Mairead was once again absent. If Snape had said something to her to scare her off again...
Once they had taken their seats, Remus smiled at the group. "Good afternoon," he began. "My apologies for being absent last Thursday -" He didn't get any further before the class erupted.
"He's insane!"
"They all ganged up -"
"We tried to stop them -"
"Snape's a nutter!"
"It shouldn't be allowed -"
"...not fair!"
Remus held up both hands for silence. "Okay, hold on." He turned to a student at the front of the class. "Francie, could you please tell me what happened?"
Francie took a shuddering breath. "He - Professor Snape, that is - he... he had us all - but we wouldn't! And he had the Slytherins... he l-lined her up against the w-wall and he -" Francie got no further before dissolving into tears.
Chaos once again broke out as a dozen voices began to voice their version of events.
"Please," Remus raised his voice above the maelstrom and pleaded for quiet. He took out his wand, conjured a glass, and filled it with water. Offering the glass to Francie, who took it in shaking hands, Remus searched for a calm face among his students.
"Henry," he said. "What happened?"
Henry looked livid, but relatively collected. "Snape said we were going to be studying werewolves," Henry began. "Statia said we'd already covered werewolves -"
"I wish I'd just kept my fat mouth shut!" Statia wailed. Looking over at her, Remus realized that she was in tears, as well.
"Anyway, Mairead told him we were supposed to be covering nonverbal spells," continued Henry, his eyes now burning with fury, "So he had us all stand up, and he had Mairead on one side of the room and the rest of us on the other, and he told everyone to take aim at Mairead and attack her using nonverbal spells." Henry's lip curled in disgust. "We all said we wouldn't do it, so he docked us fifty points. But it was a double class with the Slytherins, and they all attacked her at the same time."
Remus stared at Henry in stunned silence. In shock, he listened as the other students filled in the gaps.
"He called it 'target practice'!"
"He called her a Squib, but she's not! Not really -"
"We tried to protect her but he blocked us!"
"What happened to Mairead, Henry?" Remus asked softly.
"She - she just... collapsed." said Henry. "She was all disfigured and stuff. She was choking on this... this kind of... like a pus that was coming out of her nose and mouth. Snape told Benedict and Mark to take her to the Hospital Wing."
"Is she still there?"
"Yes," Statia spoke up, sniffling. "I t-tried to go see her this morning, but Madam Pomphrey w-wouldn't let me in."
"I'll go," Remus said immediately. He looked around at the class. "I doubt we would be able to accomplish much today, anyway. I'd like all of you to use this period to do something calming. If you're still in distress by this evening I would like you to see Madam Pomphrey for a Draught of Peace. Tell her I sent you. Class dismissed. Please excuse me." Remus snatched his briefcase off the desk and headed for the door. He paused on his way out of the classroom. "Oh," he said, looking back over his shoulder at his students. "And sixty points to Hufflepuff. For standing up for your classmate."
This was the second time that Remus had rushed to the Hospital Wing because of Mairead, and he did not like it at all. Once he arrived, he looked around for the nurse. He saw her emerging from within a curtained-off bed.
"Is Mairead O'Keefe in there?" he asked, not waiting for an answer before striding toward the curtain.
Madam Pomphrey hurried towards him, holding both palms out in front of her. "Yes," she said quietly. "But she doesn't want any visitors."
"Don't be absurd," said Remus, trying to sidestep her. "I just heard what happened - in my class. I've got to see her."
Madam Pomphrey grasped his arm in a surprisingly strong grip. "Remus," she said kindly but firmly. "You are not in charge here. I am. Mairead doesn't want any visitors."
"Tell her it's me!" Remus insisted.
"She specifically told me not to admit you if you came to see her."
Remus gave her a look of exasperation. "But -"
"I'm sure I don't need to remind you how it can feel to be injured in the Hospital Wing," said Madam Pomphrey gently, "and not to want any visitors to see you in a low state."
Remus looked back and forth between the nurse and the partitioned off bed. Finally, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "Will you at least tell me how she is?"
Immediately, the sympathy vanished from Madam Pomphrey's face and was replaced by irritation and indignation. "How do you think she is?" the witch said waspishly. "She was hit by fifteen spells simultaneously. And they were all nonverbal and several of the students are refusing to say what they attacked her with, so it's veritable guesswork on my part to distinguish this from that! And even the ones I can identify clearly mutated when they interacted with other spells, so -" here the nurse lowered her voice and finished in a whisper. "between you and me, the girl is a mess."
Remus glanced at the curtain again, wishing more than anything for James's invisibility cloak so that he could steal a glance at his student and assess her current state. "Will she be all right?" he asked.
"Oh, I'll get her sorted out eventually, you can count on that," the nurse said, still irritable. "But Merlin knows it will probably take quite a bit of time."
...
By the time Mairead was put to rights and released from the Hospital Wing, term had ended. When she had learned that she was going to miss all of her end-of-term exams, she had spiraled into such a panic that Madam Pomphrey had kept her on a steady dose of the Draught of Peace for the rest of the day. In the end, Professor Dumbledore made arrangements for Mairead to complete her exams and projects from the Hospital Wing so that she could keep up with her classes. Patrick Daily, an old friend from Gryffindor, brought her homework to the Hospital Wing every day, and even delivered her completed assignments to her professors for her, so that she wouldn't fall behind.
Her friends had regularly stopped by to try to visit, but Mairead was resolute that no one should see her until she was released. Madam Pomphrey had refused to let her look at herself in the mirror, but Mairead could tell just by the parts of her body that she could see that her face must have been horribly out of sorts, as well, and she knew by exploring with her hands that at minimum, she had grown horns, some sort of beak instead of a mouth, ears that felt sort of like goat's ears, hair all over every patch of bare skin, and boils that burst painfully every hour or so, releasing a sticky, burning pus that stuck to the hair all over her body.
Mairead thought bitterly to herself that the one good thing that had come out of this was a ready-made excuse to Cedric for why she could no longer join his family for Christmas. She had explained this in a letter, since she was unable to speak for two weeks; all that came out when she tried was a kind of off-key "la-la-la-la-la-la-la."
Madam Pomphrey finally declared Mairead recovered and released her on the first day of the winter holidays. The castle was virtually deserted when Mairead emerged from the Hospital tower, a fact for which she was immensely grateful. She went to the library and signed up with Madam Pince to work as many shifts as the librarian would give her, wanting something to distract her and keep her busy over the break. Then, she returned to her Common Room to find it nearly as deserted as everyplace else. There was only one student there aside from her: a First Year boy named Derek whom she recognized from her workshop with Professor Lupin. Mairead greeted him pleasantly and then went up to bed, exhausted and depressed.
Mairead passed the next few days working in the library, reading, and staring listlessly out of whatever window she happened to be next to. Her most diverting hours were spent helping three Third Year Gryffindors who seemed to be constantly in the library. Hermione Granger had brought her two friends, Harry Potter and one of the Weasley boys (Rob?) into the library on the second day of the holidays to try to find research that could help Hagrid. Hermione had explained to Mairead that Draco Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's son, had provoked an attack from a hippogriff in Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures class. The Committee for the Disposal of Magical Creatures would be conducting a trial and the hippogriff's life hung in the balance.
Mairead felt nervous at the thought of crossing not only Lucius Malfoy but also Walden Macnair, whom she knew was involved with the Committee, but another, larger part of her couldn't stand the thought of an innocent hippogriff being put to death, so she threw herself into helping them whenever they were in the library together. She harnessed all of the research skills she had developed over the years and found dozens of journal entries, newspaper articles, and books to help them build a defense.
When she wasn't helping Hermione and her friends, Mairead wandered around in a depressed haze. She was exhausted, and even though she had the time and recognized this would be an excellent opportunity to try to prepare for her N.E.W.T.s, she couldn't muster up the motivation to do much of anything. She had received multiple letters from Ansel, Sophie, Edgar, Sister Mary Agnes, and Sister Mary Margaret inviting her to spend Christmas at St. Hedwig's, but every time she picked up a quill or smoothed out a bit of parchment to respond she wound up staring out at the Common Room or out a window, ink dripping from her quill and leaving blotches on her parchment and clothing.
She passed most of the time sleeping, either curled up in a comfortable chair by the Hufflepuff fireplace or in her bed, which she couldn't be bothered to get out of on days she wasn't working. She slept fitfully, plagued by the same nightmares of her father and his friends and the horrors she had both been subjected to and borne witness to in her childhood, but now she had a new nightmare: her father and his friends lined her up against a wall and all fired on her simultaneously. She would wake from these nightmares soaked in a cold sweat and gasping for air.
Mairead startled awake from a doze one afternoon and realized that it was Christmas Day. She had thought she would be spending this day eating sweets and turkey, giving gifts, sledding, drinking hot cocoa, caroling, and having snowball fights with her best friend. Instead she was laying on a chair in the Hufflepuff Common Room, wearing the same clothes she had been wearing for the past two days, smelling... not great, and her stomach was roiling from hunger. She hauled herself to her feet and forced herself to take a shower. Afterwards, she trudged down to the Great Hall. The Christmas Feast was the first thing that had sounded inviting to her in quite a while.
As she approached, however, she saw that the long house tables were gone and that everyone - students and faculty alike - was dining at one table. She took one look at the faces around the table, saw that Snape was there, and turned around and left as quickly and as quietly as possible.
When she got back to her basement corridor, she hesitated for a moment and then headed for the kitchens. She tickled the pear on the painting, watched as it giggled, and then stepped through into the kitchens.
The smells of the Christmas Feast were still strong, even though she saw that the House Elves were beginning to clean up. Delectable looking desserts were arranged on one long table, ready to go up at any moment. One House Elf turned and saw her.
"Hello, Miss Mairead!" she squeaked cheerfully. She had a strand of garland strung around her long, pointy ears.
Mairead forced herself to smile. "Happy Christmas, Jojo," she said. "You wouldn't happen to have any leftover food from the feast, would you?"
Jojo's ears perked up and she beamed widely at Mairead. "Don't worry, miss! The feast still be going on. Miss can go up to the Great Hall and feast."
Mairead shuffled her feet awkwardly. "Erm, yeah, it's just..." I'm scared? I'm humiliated? I'm worried I'll throw a Christmas pie in Snape's ugly face? "I was hoping for something quieter," she finished.
Jojo's smile somehow widened. "Oh, Missy, it is being very quiet, because you see there aren't many people at Hogwarts this year," she said. "You will go and eat in the Great Hall and it will be nice and quiet."
"Yeah, but -"
"You'll see, Missy Mairead. You will go eat in the Great Hall!" Jojo said.
Mairead looked at the smiling House Elf in dismay. She looked so delighted to share such glorious news with Mairead that she couldn't bear to disappoint her.
"...Okay. Yeah. I'll go do that. Thanks, Jojo."
"I is wishing you a Merry Christmas, Miss Mairead!" said Jojo, waving both hands in joy.
Mairead smiled awkwardly. "Thanks, you too." She turned and shuffled back to her Common Room.
After a brief, unsuccessful dig through her bag to try to find any snacks she may have shoved in there throughout the term, Mairead resigned herself to being hungry. She climbed into bed, still fully dressed, and went to sleep.
Mairead slept through Boxing Day. The following day she was working in the library when Madam Pince walked over to the study carrel where Mairead was helping Hermione, who had come alone today.
"You have a visitor. You're wanted in the Entrance Hall," the older woman said shortly. The two girls looked at each other in confusion.
"Must be you," Mairead told Hermione.
"No, actually, it's you," Madam Pince said. "I've been asked to release you for the rest of the day. It'll be without pay, mind," she added, looking irritated.
Mairead furrowed her brow but gathered up her bag nevertheless and headed to the Entrance Hall. She had no clue who could want to see her.
Maybe it's Sirius Black come back to finish the job, she thought glumly, somehow managing to feel both sorry for herself and irritated at how sorry she felt for herself at the same time. He'd be doing me a favor, really.
When she arrived, she saw a woman in a long black habit and veil. The woman turned at the sound of Mairead's footsteps and broke into a huge smile.
"There's my girl," said Sister Mary Margaret.
Sister Mary Margaret held out her arms for a hug. Mairead felt her entire body sag like she had just put down a heavy load she had been carrying for ages and before she knew what was happening she had crossed the Entrance Hall and was sobbing her heart out on the nun's shoulder.
Sister Mary Margaret didn't say anything; she just stroked Mairead's hair gently and held her close, rocking her back and forth. When Mairead had cried herself out, she pulled away slightly from the older woman.
"Sorry I cried all over you," she said thickly, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.
"All tears eventually dry," Sister Mary Margaret said with a soft smile. She reached up a hand and stroked Mairead's cheek lovingly, wiping her tears away. "Let's go for a walk, shall we? It's been ages since I've been back at Hogwarts."
Mairead and Sister Mary Margaret walked all around the Hogwarts grounds, past Hagrid's hut, past the pumpkin patch, and paused by the lake to admire its crystalline beauty. Sometime while Mairead had been in the Hospital Wing the winds and rains of November had been replaced by a stunning snowfall that covered the trees and grass and made Hogwarts seem every bit as enchanted as it was. Not for the first time, it occurred to Mairead how much she regretted the fact that she couldn't wait to leave Hogwarts and never return. She wanted so badly to love it here.
While they walked, Mairead told Sister Mary Margaret everything that had happened that term. The nuns had received a letter from Dumbledore that Mairead had been attacked by Sirius Black and it was customary for a student's Head of House to write to that student's parents or caregivers if the student spent any length of time in the Hospital Wing, but Sister Mary Margaret did not know anything else that had happened. She listened while Mairead told her about the way the students had applauded her first day back, how everyone had made such a fuss over her and how uncomfortable she had been with all of the attention. Mairead told her about all the trouble she had been having with her wand. She broke down crying again when she told Sister Mary Margaret about failing out of Potions. She found an anger she hadn't realized she had been suppressing when she described Amos Diggory's letter uninviting her to Christmas. She shook with shame and humiliation when she spoke of her disastrous meeting with the Headmaster, her Head of House, and Professor Lupin. Sister Mary Margaret listened to all of this in silence. The only time she betrayed an emotion was when she gasped and clapped a hand over the cross around her neck when Mairead told her about being attacked by fifteen Slytherins under Snape's instruction.
By the time Mairead finished the two had circled the Hogwarts grounds twice and were back at the lake. Mairead hugged a branch on the willow tree she loved so much and rested her forehead against it, weary from the retelling but also feeling relief at finally unburdening the emotions she had been keeping locked up inside of herself.
After a few moments of silence, Sister Mary Margaret breathlessly said, "You have had quite the semester, haven't you?"
Mairead looked over at Sister Mary Margaret. The two shared a look and then quite suddenly, Mairead burst out laughing. She clung to the tree branch for support and laughed until her sides ached and her face hurt. She laughed until her laughter turned back into tears and then cried until she felt emptied out again. She leaned against the tree, hiccuping. A silence fell. Mairead breathed in the cool, winter air. She realized that she hadn't gone outside in nearly a month, and she drew comfort from the silent peacefulness of winter.
Finally she spoke quietly. "I just don't know what to do," she admitted. "I feel like there's no point in my staying here. I'm no good at magic, there's no way I'm ever going to pass my N.E.W.T.s. I'm just faffing about. I might as well just cut my losses."
Sister Mary Margaret thought for a moment, then said, "Well, you can start by packing an overnight bag. I'm kidnapping you back to St. Hedwig's for the night."
"Why?" asked Mairead, brow furrowed.
"Because you need to get away, and you need to get a different wand," Sister Mary Margaret said decisively. "All right, up you get. Go up to your dormitory and pack for one night. I'll meet you back in the Entrance Hall. Pip pip."
...
Mairead spent that evening in the warm embrace that the company of the nuns and children of St. Hedwig's provided. Many had gathered in the Front Hall of the orphanage to greet her when she arrived, and she gave hugs all around, breathing in the comforting smell of the simple castor soap the nuns used. No one asked her any questions, though she caught Ansel looking piercingly at her several times. They made popcorn and cocoa and watched the Muggle film The Bishop's Wife, a Christmas favorite at St. Hedwig's.
The next day, she and Sister Mary Margaret wandered the streets of Diagon Alley, admiring the Christmas decorations that hadn't been taken down yet. Mairead was feeling refreshed and more relaxed than she had in months. Sister Mary Margaret accompanied her as she flitted from shop to shop, picking up belated Christmas gifts that she had not been able to purchase before, having missed the second Hogsmeade trip of the year while in the Hospital Wing.
"I think that's everything!" Mairead said cheerfully after exiting Flourish and Blotts, clutching a heavy bag full of books and trinkets for her friends.
"Not quite," Sister Mary Margaret corrected her. "We still have to stop at Ollivanders."
Mairead pursed her lips unhappily. She had been quite content to spend the morning pretending her problems at school did not exist.
"About that... what if... I mean..." she hedged, then recklessly went on. "What if I didn't go back to Hogwarts?"
Sister Mary Margaret raised her eyebrows, but didn't say anything.
"I mean," Mairead plunged on, "what if I just dropped out? It's not like anyone would miss me, and I just don't see the point. My magic is completely banjaxed and it's not like anyone in the magical community is going to hire a Squib so it all just feels like a waste of time. I might as well just go get a job in a bank or like, a travel agency or something. Or maybe I could work in a bookstore? Plus, I'm of age now. More than of age, actually, as I'm eighteen now. So it's really my choice, isn't it?"
Sister Mary Margaret considered her in silence for a few moments. Finally, she quietly said, "Mairead, I am not here to tell you what to do. I am here because I love you and care for you, and I have been deeply concerned about your wellbeing. You are, as you say, an adult now, and you can make your own choices. I have neither the authority nor the desire to control you. If you wish to leave Hogwarts, I will not stand in your way, nor will Sister Mary Agnes." She smiled lovingly and reached up to stroke Mairead's cheek tenderly. "You have a disability, Mairead. I am not going to insult you by sugar-coating that fact, nor am I going to condescend to you by telling you how I think you should feel about it. But disabilities, like most everything in life, are complex, and there is a difference between being a partial Squib and being a total Squib. You do have magical abilities, even if they are not what you would like them to be. Because of that, Sister Mary Agnes feels that you should have a properly functioning wand, and I agree with her. We are not trying to tell you what to do with it," she said, raising her hands defensively before Mairead could object. "We simply want you to have the tools you need so that you can succeed with whatever choice you make. You can take your wand and bury it at the back of your sock drawer, if that pleases you. But I do have to insist that you have a wand that functions."
Mairead bit her lip, the wind completely taken out of her sails. Finally, she asked, "If I go to Ollivanders and exchange my wand, that's it? I can still not go back to Hogwarts?"
Sister Mary Margaret nodded. "If you have the proper tools and that is what you choose to do, we will respect your choice."
"Deal." Mairead shifted her bags around so she could free a hand to shake with the nun, who let out a girlish giggle.
"Well, now that that's formalized," she teased, "lead the way."
The gentle tinkling of a bell announced their presence in Ollivanders. Mairead looked around the dusty, cluttered shop for Mr. Ollivander. The man had a way of sneaking up on her and she hated to be startled. She had been here many times over the years to help St. Hedwig's new Hogwarts students acquire their first wands, but no matter how many times she visited, Mr. Ollivander always seemed to appear out of the ether just when she let her guard down.
She wandered around the shop looking for the wizened man while Sister Mary Margaret took a seat on a spindly stool. Ollivander was not behind the counter with the till, nor was he by the windows or near the entrance to the shop. She checked the doorway leading to the back of the shop and saw no sign of him. It didn't help that the place was dimly lit and that the light coming through the windows hit the dust that constantly seemed to hang in the air and scattered, creating the impression that the shop was perpetually filled with fog.
Mairead put her hands on her hips and chewed on her lip. She couldn't see him behind any of the many piles of wand boxes that lay about the room in no order Mairead could discern. Mairead took a closer look at the nearest pile of boxes and saw that the contents of each box were at least labelled. Mairead scanned the space and thought to herself that if she were to organize the inventory, she would separate the wands out by wood, then by core, and then by length. She counted the shelves and was just wondering to herself how many types of wood were used for wands when Ollivander spoke from directly behind her.
"I've been expecting you, Miss O'Keefe," he said softly. Mairead jumped out of her skin and whirled around to face the man and meet his wide, unblinking gaze. She noted that Ollivander's eyes were grey, but not like Professor Lupin's. Ollivander's eyes were a flat, silvery sort of grey whereas Professor Lupin's eyes were like storm clouds: they weren't all one colour, but had swirls of lighter and darker greys and, depending on the lighting, tiny flecks of different shades of blue and even, strangely, amber.
Not that she spent that much time looking or anything.
"Oh! Mr. Ollivander," Mairead gasped. "Erm, hello."
"I expect you have come to exchange your wand," said Mr. Ollivander shrewdly.
"Yes, sir," Mairead confirmed. "I'm sorry, sir. I've really tried. Maybe it's just me; I'm sure it's not the wand's fault."
"The wand is never to blame for whose hand fate drops it into," Ollivander said, then added, "Fate, or wizards, that is."
He reached out a hand for her wand and Mairead fumbled in her robes until she withdrew it and offered it to him. Ollivander instantly blanched.
"My word! Not a match at all," he said, snatching the wand from her hand. "It's a wonder you got any results from it at all." He walked behind his counter, bent down, and when he straightened he held a container with "Cleansing" scrawled across the top. He deposited Mairead's wand into the container and stowed it away once more. Mairead looked over at Sister Mary Margaret, who spread her hands in a pointed well-what-do-you-know? gesture.
Mairead wondered if it was blasphemous to roll your eyes at a nun.
"Now, then," Ollivander said briskly. He never finished his sentence, but simply began pulling boxes off shelves. "Let's try this one: willow, with a unicorn hair core. Eight and a half inches. Quite bendy."
He handed Mairead the wand, who took it in her hand and swished it. Ollivander reached over and took the wand from her.
"No, not that one. Let's try another one, just for contrast. This is a rare combination: willow and dragon heartstring. Seven and three quarters inches. Rather less flexible than you typically see in willow wands."
Mairead reached for it but had scarcely brushed the wand with her fingertips when Ollivander withdrew it with a, "Definitely not."
"It is as I expected," he said, replacing the wand in its box. He turned to look at Mairead and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "It appears that you have changed since I last saw you. This is not surprising. A great many students find that by the time they have finished their schooling at Hogwarts they are no longer well-matched with their wands. I think that it is time you branched out from willow." He turned and began hunting among the numerous boxes, humming to himself.
"No pun intended?" asked Mairead with a crooked smile, but the mysterious wizard did not respond, absorbed as he was in his task.
He returned with a single wand box. "Try this," he said, opening the box. "I would be remiss if I did not offer you a walnut wand first. Phoenix feather core. Twelve inches. Somewhat brittle."
Mairead loved the look of this wand. It was a darker wand than she was used to and had strips of lighter wood running through the grain. She picked it up and waved it hopefully, but nothing happened.
"Never fear," Ollivander said, noting her disappointment. "Each wand is unique, just as each witch is unique. It is the combination that truly makes for sublime magic."
Ollivander next handed her an eight and a quarter inch cedar wand with a unicorn core. After that, Mairead waved around a simple-looking seven and a half inch alder wood wand with a phoenix feather core. She had barely closed her fingers around a nine inch hornbeam wand with a dragon heartstring core ("rather like my wand," according to Ollivander) when the wizard plucked it delicately from her hand.
Ollivander took a step back and considered her. His eyes lit up with a somewhat mischievous glint. "I wonder..." he said, and wandered off down an aisle.
He returned with a single box and offered her the wand inside. "This is not the proper wand for you," he explained, "but please satisfy an old man's curiosity by giving it a try. Blackthorn wood with a phoenix feather core. Ten inches, very hard."
Mairead picked up the wand and waved it.
"Hah!" Ollivander yanked it from her hand.
"Is... is that the one?" Mairead asked uncertainly. Sister Mary Margaret sat up straighter from where she appeared to have been nodding off.
"Certainly not!" said Ollivander in an affronted tone. "But we are zeroing in on the target."
Mairead rapidly went through several other wands, which Ollivander whipped into and out of her hands in a frenzy. He seemed to grow more excited with each wand Mairead tried - an eleven inch pine wand with a dragon heartstring core ("quite flexible"), a stunningly attractive twelve and a quarter inch red oak wand with a phoenix feather core, and another lovely walnut wand, this time nine and half inches with a unicorn hair.
Finally, Ollivander smiled in a satisfied way and went off down an aisle. Mairead could hear him rummaging about for nearly a minute before he returned with a single wand box.
He removed the lid and Mairead's mouth dropped open. The wand was breathtaking. It was a warm, honey color with swirls and whorls of a darker, reddish color. Before Mr. Ollivander could even introduce the wand, Mairead reached for it, longing to hold it in her hand. She curled her fingers around the wand and felt warmth blossom from where her fingertips and palm touched the wood and travel up her arm. Holding the wand felt like embracing an old friend whom she had missed sorely. No, it was more than that: it was like finding a part of herself that had been missing. She closed her eyes, breathed in reverently, and when she opened her eyes again she saw that she and the wand were surrounded by a cloud of what looked like gold dust. She laughed, light-hearted, and watched as the cloud expanded to engulf Mr. Ollivander and Sister Mary Margaret.
Mairead exhaled the breath she had taken and the golden effect shimmered and faded slowly, but the warmth she felt remained. She looked up into Mr. Ollivander's unsettling grey eyes and saw that the man was positively beaming at her.
"Larch wood," the old man said. "Ten and a quarter inches, with a unicorn hair core. Very strong." He put the lid back on the box and handed it to Mairead, who tucked it under her arm.
"Larch is a very popular wood," Ollivander explained. "You can see just from looking at it why; it makes for enthralling wands, and they are also incredibly powerful. But many wizards have purchased larch wands for their looks and reputation alone and found them simply impossible to manage. Larch wands are extraordinarily choosy about their owners. I daresay there is more to you than meets the eye, Miss O'Keefe. People would do well not to underestimate your talents."
Mairead dropped the man's gaze, suddenly feeling like an imposter. "Mr. Ollivander, I think there may have been a mistake," she said quietly. "I think maybe this isn't the right wand for me." She tried to hand it back but Mr. Ollivander frowned and even shook a finger at her.
"Now, now, the time in your life for that kind of attitude has passed," he said sternly. "I have told you before that I remember every wand I have ever sold, but so, too, do I remember every witch and wizard I have sold a wand to. You are no exception, my dear. A willow wand was well-suited to you when you were a little girl, but no longer. Just as you must say 'good-bye' to the wand of your childhood, so must you say 'good-bye' to the insecurities and unmet potential of your childhood. You have come very far in the six years since I met you, but you have still farther to go. That wand in your hand will get you there. The doubts in your head will not."
Mairead knew that it was her turn to speak, but she found herself speechless. She didn't know a thing about the potential and talent Mr. Ollivander claimed to see in her, but she did know that she didn't want to let go of this wand. Mr. Ollivander, however, saved her from the need to say anything by strolling over to his till and cheerfully announcing, "And now it is also time to say 'good-bye' to nine galleons."
Mairead and Sister Mary Margaret emerged from the shop a few minutes later, having paid the difference between the wand that Hogwarts had paid for and her new wand. They walked in silence for a few minutes, before Sister Mary Margaret mildly asked, "Did you hear what Mr. Ollivander said in there?"
Mairead nodded absently, deep in thought.
"Are you still thinking of dropping out of Hogwarts?" the nun pressed.
Mairead stopped walking and put her hands on her hips. "I thought you said all I had to do was get a new wand at Ollivanders," she accused.
"I know what I said... but is that really what you want, Mairead?" asked Sister Mary Margaret.
Mairead set her jaw stubbornly. "What I want rarely seems to have any bearing on what winds up happening to me," she said resentfully.
Sister Mary Margaret frowned. "This isn't like you, Mairead," she said, looking concerned. "You're not usually pessimistic."
"I'm not being pessimistic; I'm being realistic!" Mairead insisted. "I'm going to fail out. Might as well save myself some time. Plus, isn't it better to be a dropout than to be a fail-out?"
"What makes you think you're going to fail out?"
"It's already happening!" cried Mairead. "I'm already failing out!"
"I thought you were doing well in your other classes," Sister Mary Margaret argued mildly.
Mairead threw her arms up in frustration. "Yeah, and I was doing grand in Potions right up until the minute Snape kicked me out! Besides," she added resentfully. "the only reason I'm getting okay grades is because the teachers pity me."
The nun crossed her arms. "Oh, they've told you that, have they?"
"No, of course not!" Mairead rejoined hotly.
"Then what on earth makes you think that?"
"They don't have to tell me for it to be true! Look at Mr. Diggory - he thinks I'm a wonderful, inspiring little Squib with no future. He said Cedric is only friends with me as some kind of charity case." Mairead could feel her throat growing tight at the memory of Amos Diggory's insulting letter.
Sister Mary Margaret looked closely at Mairead. "And do you believe he is right about Cedric?"
Mairead looked at the ground. Speaking was difficult, but she croaked, " ... Maybe he is."
"Do you honestly believe that?" the nun asked softly.
Mairead was silent for a long time. "No, I don't think so," she conceded quietly.
"Have you shared any of what's been going on with Cedric?" Sister Mary Margaret asked gently.
"No."
"Why not?"
"He's been really busy," said Mairead, thinking of all the Quidditch practices and Prefect meetings and O.W.L. level homework Cedric had been dealing with and pitying her friend. "I haven't wanted to bother him."
"What do you think Cedric would say if you told him about his father's letter?" Sister Mary Margaret pressed.
"I can't tell him!" Mairead yelped in horror.
"Why not?"
"Because he'd be so upset with his parents if he found out about it!"
"Why?" the nun asked simply.
"Because he'd think they were really out of line! He'd say his Dad was mental for saying that stuff. He'd say his Dad was being really condescending."
Sister Mary Margaret tilted her head to one side. "Was his Dad being condescending?"
"Yeah, of course! He's a total tosser," said Mairead. Then, remembering a part of his letter that had her seeing red, she went on. "Get this - he actually said that maybe one day I'd be old enough to understand that my dad was a menace to society. As if he knows more about what my dad was like than I do. I only freaking lived with the guy!"
Sister Mary Margaret nodded. "What do you think Cedric would say if you told him how you failed out of Potions?" she asked.
"He... he'd say it wasn't my fault," said Mairead quietly. "He'd say that Snape was in a bad mood that day."
Sister Mary Mairead pursed her lips. "Hmm. Do you think Cedric is stupid?"
"What?!" said Mairead in surprise. "No, of course not! Cedric's really smart."
"Do you think he would lie to you?" Sister Mary Margaret asked.
"I - I don't think so," Mairead said. She was starting to become suspicious that she was being led by the nose and suspiciously asked, "Why?"
"Do you think Cedric knows you well?" the nun pressed on, ignoring Mairead's question.
Mairead frowned. "Yeah, he probably knows me better than anyone."
"Do you think Amos Diggory and Professor Snape know you better than Cedric does?"
"Obviously not," Mairead answered. "Why? What's your point?"
Sister Mary Margaret looked at Mairead coolly. "Only that I don't understand why you are letting two men who don't know you, who do not have your best interests at heart, and who frankly both sound like stuck-up blighters have your ear when someone whom you respect, who respects you, and who by your own admission knows you better than anyone would be saying the exact opposite to what they have been telling you."
Mairead stared at Sister Mary Margaret. She was about ninety-eight percent sure that nuns were not allowed to curse. The older woman turned and took Mairead by the shoulders.
"Mairead," she said gently. "You have spent much of your life being tormented by powerful men who wish to control you. But here is something they do not wish you to know: they do not control you. Who you are, what you think and believe, and what you do with your life are for you to decide, not someone else. You cannot choose what others do, and you cannot choose what other people think of you. All you can control is yourself. But despite what people like Amos Diggory and Professor Snape may want you to believe, you are in control of yourself. You get to choose what you think, what you believe, and how you respond to the challenges God sends you. You are not in control of whether it rains or shines; God is. But you are in control of whether you let yourself catch your death or open an umbrella. If you don't want to go back to Hogwarts, then don't go back to Hogwarts. If you want to work in a travel agency, by all means, go work in a travel agency. But please, do not hand over your rights to yourself to men who only care to serve their own self interests and who would far rather see you fail just so that they don't have to change their perspectives on how life works."
Mairead stared desperately at Sister Mary Margaret. "But what if they're right?" she asked, voicing the fear and the doubts that had recently come to take up more and more space in her mind. "What if I am incompetent?"
Sister Mary Margaret looked at Mairead curiously. "Do you honestly believe that is true?"
Mairead shrugged helplessly. "I don't know anymore. I don't know what to believe." She felt tears rising again. "What if I fail?" she said, unable to raise her voice above a whisper. "What if I cause another catastrophe and someone gets hurt? How am I supposed to go back and try again knowing I've already failed once?"
Sister Mary Margaret gazed at Mairead with her clear, blue eyes. "'Be strong and courageous,'" she quoted. "'Do not be frightened or dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.'"
Mairead slouched and fought not to roll her eyes. "C'mon, you know I don't believe in that stuff."
"I know you don't," said Sister Mary Margaret, turning back and continuing to walk. "but life is hard, Mairead. You've got to believe in something."
Mairead stared at her feet as she walked. "I just don't know that there's anything I can believe in," she admitted quietly. "My life already feels completely out of my control as it is. I feel like I'm barely holding things together."
"Well," said Sister Mary Margaret, "then it sounds like the most reasonable place to begin is by believing in yourself."
Mairead took this in. She stared into space, lost in thought. Back when she was a child too young to attend Hogwarts, she had thought of the wizarding school as a greenhouse, and the students as seeds who were supposed to be nurtured and raised into seedlings by the faculty. She had thought that by this time she would have been feeling like a healthy young plant and that her graduation would be like being carried from the greenhouse and planted outside, fully formed and with all the nutrients and powers she needed to do her life's work. But lately she had been feeling more and more like she was shriveling, like she had been cut off from water and her soil tamped down until it was too compact for her roots to grow. Sister Mary Margaret's words were starting to feel like water and sunshine to her.
She didn't want to quit Hogwarts. She didn't want to let her potential shrivel and die.
She looked up at Sister Mary Margaret, who had held her silence, letting Mairead think.
"What do I have to do?" Mairead asked the nun in a whisper.
"You have to stop letting people like Professor Snape hold the reins of your education. It's your education, and you should hold the reins. That being said," she added, "you have to find someone you can trust. Life is hard, Mairead," she repeated. "Too hard to go it alone. If you have to go it alone for a while to find yourself again, then do so. But eventually you need to let yourself trust someone."
"But who?" Mairead asked.
Sister Mary Margaret reached a hand up and lovingly brushed Mairead's wild hair out of her eyes. "Someone who looks at you and sees your potential, not your limitations. Someone who thinks you are lovely the way you are, but who believes you can do more. Someone who wishes to empower you but not dictate what you do with your power."
Mairead said nothing. There was only one person she could think of at Hogwarts who fit that description, but she had sworn she would never trust him again.
She wasn't sure if it was Sister Mary Margaret's words, or Mr. Ollivander's, or the new wand that she still couldn't stop stroking and curling her fingers around in her pocket, but she felt herself coming back to life. Something had lit inside of her.
Finally, she looked up and met Sister Mary Margaret's eyes. The nun smiled at what she saw there.
"Do you have a bit more time?" Mairead asked Sister Mary Margaret. "There's one more stop I'd like to make before going back to Hogwarts."
...
Remus finished marking up the last essay in his pile and set it aside. He put down his quill and stretched his arms over his head, sighing in relief as his back and shoulders popped in several places. He had thanked Merlin that the full moon had fallen during the holidays this month. He may have missed the Christmas feast, but he had also been able to take three glorious days off to rest and recover in his luxuriously soft Hogwarts bed, instead of the one day he had been permitting himself and then forcing himself back to work the following day. He was now feeling rested and energized.
Taking a gulp of tea, he turned to his next task: submitting mid-year grades for his students. He started with the Seventh Years, his not-so-unconscious bias showing when he reached for his Gryffindor students first. He steadily worked through his students house by house. This part was easy. He silently thanked beginning-of-the-year Remus for painstakingly setting up a rubric that made these tally sheets a breeze. He reached for the next grade sheet and paused, frowning at the name at the top of the sheet.
Mairead O'Keefe. Remus sighed and sat back in his chair. Mairead worked so hard in his classes. It was a source of frequent amusement to Remus how painfully obvious it was which of his students did or did not do the assigned reading, and Mairead always came to class prepared. Her essays were fairly well-written and her handwriting nearly always legible (something Remus never thought he would care about until he had spent twenty minutes one day deciphering a single paragraph from an essay by Fred Weasley), and her comments in class were insightful and always furthered discussions. The impossible girl had even insisted on completing her end-of-term essay on nonverbal spells while she was in the Hospital Wing recovering from being hit by fifteen nonverbal spells. He felt it was enormously unfair that he couldn't offer her a grade. He went down his rubric and filled it in, growing more discontented as he went:
Theoretical Coursework: 100%
Practical Coursework: N/A
Readings and Preparedness: 100%
Classroom Discussions: 100%
Homework and Essays: 100%
Attendance: 100% (there was no way Remus was going to dock her points for her absences, as he blamed himself for every one of them)
Final Grade for the Term:
Remus sighed again, his quill poised over the last box on the form. The stubborn rule-breaker in him wanted to award her an O, or at the very least an A. The mature adult in him knew he could not, not without running the risk of calling into question every other grade he awarded to his other students. He glared darkly at the form, downed the last of his tea and wishing it were something stronger, and scribbled an "N/A" for her term grade.
He pushed the form aside and threw his quill down in frustration. He had gone back several times during Mairead's stay in the Hospital Wing and asked to see her, and had been refused every time. He knew she had been released from the Hospital Wing, but by then the full moon had been less than a week away, and he had feared that he would not be able to maintain the stranglehold he normally kept on any baser emotions such as aggression and anger if he had to look Mairead in the eye and face her recriminations a second time. He knew that Snape thought that Remus and his friends got away with murder when they were students, but somehow Remus doubted he could actually get away with it if he flew into a vengeful rage and murdered Snape.
Remus let out a growl. He gripped the edge of his desk in frustration and was rising to go to the kitchens in search of a drink when he heard footsteps approaching his office. He hesitated, halfway out of his chair, and then he heard an insistent knock on his door.
"Come in," he called, sitting back down.
As though he had summoned her with his thoughts, Mairead O'Keefe opened his door and stood in his doorway.
"Mairead," he said in surprise. "Won't you -" Remus locked eyes with her and was stunned into silence by what he saw in the girl.
Mairead's cheeks were flushed red and her jaw was set. There were snowflakes in her hair and on her clothes as if she had just come in out of the cold. She was wearing a travelling cloak that was too big for her, and her chest heaved from either exertion or emotion. Her red curls fell about her face and shoulders with a wild grace that couldn't be deliberately affected. But it wasn't her slightly disheveled and out of breath appearance that stopped Remus in his tracks but something else, something intangible yet undeniable.
It was her eyes. They flashed and burned with a fire and determination Remus had never seen in them before; their dark green colour and the emotions laid raw before him combined to give him the overall impression of a forest fire. It was as though lightning were coursing up and down her body, consuming impurities and leaving only strength in its wake. Her entire being exuded fire and electricity and fight.
She was breathtakingly beautiful.
"Mairead," he said her name again, "what is it?"
She considered him for a long moment, and Remus felt that he might burn up under her gaze. Finally, the girl spoke:
"Do you really think you can help me?"
...
Author's Note: Well, what did you think? Was it too dramatic and angst-ridden? As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts!
Song for this chapter: "Fight Song," by Rachel Platten (Mairead)