SIX
"So it didn't work," said Hermione.
Advanced Spells and Hexes was the only class during which one could get a word (other than "Hush!") out of Hermione. Professor Luddivon tended to repeat himself so many times that if you listened closely for the first twenty minutes you generally got all there was to get from a subject. Hermione had taken to drawing little sketches in her margin of Luddivon pontificating in various poses, his snowy hair sticking up like a dandelion gone to seed and empty cartoon balloons issuing from his mouth. Today's lecture was 'Repellments and Curses: The Differences Between Them.' Hermione had already explained to Ron and Harry what a Repellment was until a sweat broke out on her upper lip, so between the lot of them they could nearly predict what Luddivon's next point would be. The professor was so nearly deaf that one had to shout to be heard, so group whispering was safe enough.
"Don't be nervous, Ron. Ignore him." Hermione nodded down at Luddivon. "Just remember, Repellments repel negative magical energies from the afflicted person. It's like a high-power Cleansing. And curses do the damage. That's all you really need to know for the test." She sighed. "I wish you'd think this whole reconnaissance thing over, Harry."
"They won't meet in the greenhouse again. I think I've cured them of that. The offices are probably out since they're both so close to Dumbledore's. Probably not in their classrooms, either. The haunted chapel?"
"Could be on the top floor with the bats," suggested Ron.
"After we've managed to steer clear of it all this time?" Hermione said. "That's just ironic enough to be likely. Trouble is, this place is full of trysting spots. Unused student dorms, that whole suite behind the Hogwarts Alumni Memorial Yearbook Shelf in the library, the odd room that moves around and you don't know where it's gone. I never really thought about it, but this must be the best place on earth for doing things you shouldn't and not getting found out. I mean, we always get found out, but the teachers almost never do."
"So what are we planning here, exactly?" asked Ron. "Are we out to stop Evensong? What if nothing's happening and Snape is just getting her off somewhere to boff her."
In the collective revulsion that followed, it was unanimously resolved that none of them would ever again use any permutation of the word 'boff' in connection with Snape.
"What if they go to the Forest?"
"Then we'll just have to stick close to them," said Harry. "If there's a way through that Forest then Snape knows it."
"The psychic residue of a curse and a Repellment may appear identical even to the highly trained eye," Luddivon droned on. "Many people who have received a very powerful Repellment are often mistaken for victims of curses. Now, can anyone tell me--"
"I think it's time we let the professors take over, Harry," said Hermione. "This one's too big for us."
"No!"
It came just after a pause in the lecture and everybody jumped.
Luddivon clapped his hands. "Exactly right, Potter! There is no way of identifying the causal agent--the wizard, as it were--behind a Repelling. Five to Gryffindor for the prompt answer. There are, however, ways of determining the originators of certain curses, which, if you will turn your books to page 1125--"
"No," said Harry again, more calmly. "Like it or not, Snape has saved my life more times than probably we any of us know. I owe him."
"Harry, Sirius said don't get in over your head. Who do you think you are, anyway?"
Without thinking Harry replied, "Odysseus."
* * *
The Defence Against the Dark Arts hall was almost unrecognisable this year, as Evensong had insisted that the heavy, dark draperies and shutters be opened, so that even the complete troll skeleton in the corner took on a buttery glow in the late-afternoon sun. In the sun it was hard to keep in mind that this was a school that had once owned a flesh-eating three-headed canine, and Evensong's discussion on Unseen Menaces in Fens and Bogs had taken on new levity when a sparrow flew through the open window and was trapped until Courtland Thomas thought to catch it in his cloak and toss it out again.
As Harry edged past the professor on his way to the door, his long shadow fell across Professor Evensong's desk. Evensong's lavender-grey eyes flicked up and caught him. She put her quill back into her inkpot.
"Mister Potter," she said, in a low voice. "Could I have a word alone with you?"
It was certainly the most polite invitation to an execution he could expect. Evensong gestured toward a chair, then folded her hands on her desk. Her braid had loosened in the course of the day and white tendrils framed her face in a soft fringe.
"You know, don't you?"
Something about her entreating expression made lying out of the question. Harry nodded.
"Severus told me as much. I should have guessed from the way you were behaving." She reached across the desk and took his hand. "I'm asking you to forget everything that you might have seen. Don't try to remember anything more; it doesn't concern you. And don't say anything else to upset Severus."
There was a short pause during which Harry attempted to conceive of anything so dire it might upset Professor Snape.
"Okay. Done. Forgotten." He tried to take his hand away, but short of a single violent jerk there was nothing he could do. Evensong's touch, though gentle as she rolled his hand in hers, was strong, like steel springs under her skin.
"Don't be so nervous. I don't want to hurt you. It's just that it's in my nature to fight for the things I care, and it's very difficult for me to break that instinct. Here at Hogwarts, I've had to learn to fight in other ways."
She broke off suddenly, staring first at Harry's palm, then into his eyes, then down again. The loose hairs which hung round her face swayed and lifted as if from electricity, and her voice took on a mellow, ringing depth.
"There's a darkness in you, Harry." She ran her nail down the centre of his palm, and he felt the scratch down his spine. "When I performed your Cleansing in the infirmary, I knew it was my own spell I was ridding you of. I didn't say anything, then, because I was afraid that if some of the story came out, then it all would. But I saw the darkness then, just as I sense it in you now. It's very near the surface, Harry. You must know yourself that it's there. If you wanted . . . I could make it go away."
Black water swelling . . . somewhere his mother was singing . . . .
"No, Professor. If it's all the same, I think I like my darkness just where it is."
Her fingernail traced the same lingering, tickling path on his palm. "A pity. Dark calls to dark, Mister Potter. You wouldn't want to attract the wrong sort of people."
She let go of his hand just as he yanked it away. His own force drove him to his feet. She rose as well, tall and pale as a young birch, azure robes rustling. Her light hand rested on his shoulder.
"The offer stands, if you should ever decide," she said. "Until then, please. Forget. All we want is to be left alone."
Her hand slid away, slipping down his upper arm to the elbow in a prolonged caress that drew a knot in Harry's throat. She turned her back to him, and began to gather her things, and suddenly she was very young-looking, younger than Hermione perhaps, and very lonely. With a great pain Harry pushed aside the yearning to put his arms around her, let her know it would be okay, that he would leave her and Snape alone and perhaps it would be a very good idea for her to take the darkness away because it did hurt . . . and why was he agreeing with everything she'd said?
It took everything in him to walk out the door, but with every step the weird compulsion to succumb grew smaller. By the time he turned the corner at the end of the hall and began down the stairs toward the library, the memory dwindled, sank into blackness, leaving only an aching emptiness where it had been. Only a shuddery feeling and the slow dull thud of his heart reminded him of how effortless, how satisfying it had been to surrender. He took the last two flights of stairs at a gallop, and when he finally paused at the bottom landing his heart was racing, but his mind was clear.
That was when Ginny Weasley touched his elbow and he damn near levitated.
"Hullo, Harry. Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you. I thought you heard me."
"Give me a moment, Gin," he said, leaning against the stair post. "I've temporarily forgotten how to breathe."
"Okay." She waited patiently, as if Harry hyperventilating was a common occurrence. At just shy of fifteen Ginny had grown up to be a fashion model for the Hermione Granger Line of Girls' Schoolwear: red, frizzy hair chopped short at the neck, reading glasses, a pink pullover jumper with a large red G on it, and her textbooks bound together with a strap. She had a sprightly, chipmunky grin and her inexhaustible energy levels gave her the impression of wiggling even when she was standing still. Looking at her, Harry instantly felt more drained than before.
"I'm supposed to give you a message," she said when he seemed to have regained control over about seventy five per cent of his bodily functions. "Ron says forget about the library, just go back to your room as the library is being fumigated. Some moths started chewing on a book in the Restricted Area and accidentally nibbled a Duplicating Spell, and now the place is full of 'em. Miss Pince had a complete nervous breakdown."
Irritably he wondered why couldn't she have caught him before he was down three flights of stairs. "Thanks, Ginny."
"Are you boys up to no good?"
"Yes."
"Ooh, can I come?"
"I . . . don't think so, Ginny. Thanks for telling me, though."
"No problem." Her gold-speckled nose wrinkled. "Have you been eating peppermints, or do you smell like peppermints all the time?"
"Not that I've noticed. I'm not too fond of peppermints." Weird kid. That's what happened when you were the only girl in the Weasley brood.
"You certainly smell of peppermints." She shrugged one shoulder. "See you about, then."
Ginny took off down the hallway, swinging her books by their strap. Harry sighed and, turning around, began the weary climb up the stairs to Gryffindor, wishing as always that Hogwarts would just install lifts like every other place in the world. Even a magical lift would do.
It wasn't until she'd skipped off down the hall that Ginny realized her mistake. She could have slapped herself; he must think she was totally thick. Not peppermints. Cinnamon.
