Aurora

Arriving at Hogwarts, apparently, only pleased me so far. Anna, after a skirmish with Pansy in the compartment, was blacker than clouds, and even more determined in her desire to take revenge on Draco. The rest of the way, I stared out the window, watching the green hills, tall mountain firs, small streams and beautiful lavender fields rush past.

I replayed our plan over and over in my head, finding all sorts of flaws in it, but also the necessary justifications.

One could have ordered a bottle of love potion from the Weasley twins' shop so as not to run into trouble, but this had a number of other disadvantages: firstly, Filch checked all the mail that came from there with all the strength of his fanaticism, and the first thing he did — confiscated suspicious-looking vials of sparkling pink liquid. Of course, the twins claimed that they disguised their goods with all sorts of charms, but it was foolish to take their word for it, considering how many negligent buyers had already been caught by the caretaker. Secondly, their potion was unlikely to be of high quality — the maximum effect from it would rather last a couple of hours. One has only to remember how they sold Crabbe Puking Pastille without an antidote — he began to vomit right in Snape's lesson, and there was nothing to stop vomiting. And then the whole class had to take the rap, because Snape made everyone turn out their pockets right in the lesson, conducting a thorough audit of students for prohibited items and confiscating everything in a row. Everyone had to stay for punishment and collectively clean the stinking cauldrons of the remnants of potions, and even then we mentally cursed both Crabbe and the twins. Since then, not a single Slytherin in this rotten store has ordered anything. Here it is better to approach the matter with all due diligence and responsibility than to fall for the scams of these petty Gryffindor scammers.

The Great Hall greeted us cordially, as usual, to the sound of noisy students and the clink of cutlery and goblets. Thousands of lighted candles hovered above our heads, illuminating the Hall with a warm, flickering light, their gleaming reflections reflected in golden plates filled with a variety of dishes: there were meat and kidney pies, and a turkey baked with apples, and my favorite molasses pie, and vanilla pudding with blueberry syrup. I watched with envy as everyone pounced on food, stuffing their mouths, and grimly noted that I didn't feel hungry at all, despite the fact that, apart from coffee on the train, not a crumb had been in my mouth all day.

Suddenly I had an insight why I didn't want to eat. I grimly realised that I had run out of the potion that gave strength. Today I did not take it — and after all, it usually helped me from constant ailments.

When I was little, I was taken to St. Mungo's and told there that I was suffering from what the Muggle world calls anemia, hence the pallor, low energy, sometimes even fainting. Pleasant, of course, not enough, though not fatal. I still remember that Narcissa went to the reception with me. She really treated me with almost maternal care and affection — I think she always dreamed of having a daughter. For the rest of my life, I will remember the look of horror on her face after what we heard in the hospital. The healers have told us that there is no cure for such a disease — at the moment there are only potions that help to suppress some of its symptoms. I was supplied with huge stocks of different medicines each time before leaving for Hogwarts, but every year I noticed that their effect became more and more weak. Of course, it was necessary that the potions were freshly made, so every week they were delivered to me by owls, but the effect was still weak. In Potions lessons, I was always the first in our class, which Snape always stated with unnecessary sarcasm, constantly comparing me to this nerd Granger. So, I got the idea to learn how to prepare my own medicines, despite their complexity.

With a smile, I remembered what my first such attempt had led to.

I was in my fifth year. In the Restricted Section, Anna and I found the right recipe, it was a matter of ingredients. During dinner, when everyone was gathered in the Great Hall, we surreptitiously carried out the first attack on Snape's personal supplies. The idea was not the best, but at that time we could not invent a better way. While Anna was on guard, I opened the door with Alohomora, and went inside without any obstacles, wondering how you could be so presumptuous as to lock your private office without first equipping it with the best protection spells. Doesn't look like Snape.

Everything inside me rejoiced, and adrenaline rushed through my veins. Hell, I'm almost like Potter!

I looked around the room curiously. On all sides, I was surrounded by a huge number of all kinds of shiny jars, flasks, beakers and test tubes filled with various kinds of liquids, plant or herb roots, or some kind of incomprehensible indistinct something that I could not give any definition. Well, he's really conspiracy theorist! I thought, disappointed to find that none of the jars were signed. I had already raised my wand, preparing to use Accio, but a low, icy voice that suddenly cut through the ringing silence of the room made me shudder. My wand fell to the stone floor of the dungeons with a resounding thud.

"If I were you, I would try to give a reasonable explanation for your presence in my office at this hour. At any time. Without my permission. Or, remind me... maybe I invited you?"

I turned around sharply, and the menacing figure of the professor appeared before my eyes. As usual, his black frock coat was tightly buttoned, his head haughtily tilted to one side, and his arms crossed over his chest. He didn't seem at all surprised to see me here. His dark eyes bored into me with terrifying insight, as if penetrating into the very core of my consciousness, forcing me to open up to him.

Hell. He can read minds — flashed through my head.

"You are, oddly enough, right. Therefore, I immediately warn you — leave your miserable attempts to lie."

Hell! I'm in trouble Of course, he instilled fear in all of Hogwarts, but he was always gentler with his students. He probably won't punish me. It will be enough just to apologize, muster the will into a fist and try not to look so pathetic in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, sir. I just..."

"Come to say goodnight to me?"

Snape grinned sarcastically, raising an eyebrow slightly.

"Miss Lestrange, I hope you realize that if some Gryffindor dumbass like Potter or Longbottom were in your place right now, he would have been flunked out of school long ago. Gryffindors are known for their tendency to run into trouble without realizing the consequences. But you, Miss Lestrange..."

He paused, giving me an appraising look from head to toe, as if wondering if I was even worthy to study in his faculty. My heart was beating wildly, and my cheeks were flushed. How could I be so stupid and presumptuous?

Snape, meanwhile, continued to chastise me, lowering his voice to almost a whisper:

"You, Miss Lestrange, have disappointed me severely. I thought you were an intelligent girl and a budding witch. You are very lucky to be in Slytherin. So why the hell are you dishonoring your house's name?"

Saying these words, he came close to me and took my chin, as if looking straight into my soul. Chills ran through my skin at his touch. I have never been so ashamed in my life.

"If you're in urgent need of the energizing potion you obviously came here for, why didn't you bother to go to Madame Pomfrey's infirmary and ask her to make it for you? Or, didn't contact me directly. Or am I instilling such wild fear in you?"

He knows! But how does he...

"You have to be a complete idiot not to notice that you are ill, and ill seriously."

Snape walked over to the bookshelf, pulling a thick, battered book out of the dense rows. Opening it to the right page, he froze for a moment, studying what was written, and soon slammed the book shut.

"You don't have anemia, Aurora. If you want to feel better, you will have to wait until you are of legal age. In the meantime, to relieve your condition, you will drink a potion that I will prepare for you."

I didn't believe my ears. Have I been deceived this whole time? And he's going to help me instead of punishing me?

"What? Are you sure? How can you know?"

"Headache? Feeling unwell? Tired, pale? Prostration? Do you seriously think that such symptoms can be hidden from prying eyes for so many years?"

"But… If it's not anemia, then what is it?" I asked timidly.

"You don't need to know this. The only thing you have to learn for now is that the symptoms of the disease should go away when you turn eighteen*. However, there may be others that are even more... curious. Remember, Aurora, Hogwarts will always help those who need it. Especially if it's a matter of life and death. I cannot allow my students to die right under my nose. Or, even worse, they lied to me."

My heart was relieved. He's not going to punish me. Quite the opposite, he wants to help me.

"Thank you, sir. I will be very grateful for your help. I'm sorry I tried to do this without you knowing."

Snape's pale face changed for a moment, but then became habitually impenetrable.

"I didn't mean to disturb you and make such a personal request. And, honestly... I was ashamed. I was strictly forbidden to talk about my illness to anyone, as well as to seek help. I didn't want this to happen."

"Is that how? Well, now you know how things really are. You can take this for now," Snape said, handing me a vial of some greenish liquid.

I took it and immediately grimaced at the persistent smell of mint and coriander.

"Come back for a new portion later this month. Without delay, at the appointed time."

His voice no longer sounded threatening or intimidating to me. Now its notes just pleasantly calmed me and gave me a feeling of security and peace. Someday I will be completely healthy. He will help me cope.

"Now, I'm going to ask you to leave my office."

I nodded and turned around to leave but he stopped me.

"And one more thing. I hope you're smart enough not to tell anyone what you've just heard."

He looked at me, expecting to hear my affirmative answer, which was not long in coming.

"Of course, professor."

I smiled at him and quietly left, silently closing the door behind me.

The corridor was still dark and deserted — it was almost night.

"Did he catch you?" Anne's voice was heard excited, "but how? If I saw him coming, I would give you a sign. But there was no one in the hallway, I swear!"

"Well, either he can walk through walls like a ghost, or there's just a secret back door leading to his office that only he knows about," I said and smiled.

"Are you in big trouble? Although, you look suspiciously pleased."

"He is not what he wants everyone to think he is."

Looking at my friend's incredulous face, I told her everything.

*

Remembering now the events of bygone days, I was surprised at my own impudence. Snape brewed a potion for me every month and I had hope that everything would really be as he said. However, he never told me why all the symptoms of the disease should disappear by my age of majority. And for now, I didn't want to think about it.

As I pondered the recipe for our potion, I wasn't particularly pleased at the thought of betraying the Head's trust again. But now I had a better plan — he definitely wouldn't find out.


The age of majority for wizards is 18, not 17 as in canon.