Wishes
By: Airelle Vilka
A/N: Yes, this chapter is named after a play. In case anyone cares, I saw it in school and thought the title would be appropriate. :)
Chapter 15 Into the Woods
The Forbidden Forest had its name for a reason. Airelle, for her part, had never ventured too deep inside it when she was a student; mostly, she and Snape used its outskirts as testing grounds for potions. Everyone was aware of the dangers that lurked between the trees, and not many had dared to enter. There were even rumors of Acromantulae – giant spiders – existing somewhere deep inside the forest, but that was unconfirmed. Still, it was enough to scare off the bravest of wizards.
Bravest and fiercest of wizards, thought Airelle as she and Snape tore through the forest path at top speed, the branches tangling in their hair as if pulling them back warningly. So the question is: what is Neville Longbottom doing there? Airelle could imagine someone like Potter venturing too deep and getting into trouble… but Neville?
The cries were getting softer now, and Airelle found it difficult to keep up with her friend's agile strides as they quickened pace. The sounds were just ahead; they had to be. Airelle cringed and held her wand steady, although her eyes were jerking in every direction as if she were having a conniption fit. I hope we're not too late.
The forest canopy had blocked out the moon now; Snape shook his wand and whispered, "Lumos!" The resulting light allowed Airelle to see clearly the path they were on, bordered by thick pushes and intimidatingly wide tree trunks.
The sounds had stopped completely, and the woods were as silent as a morgue. Airelle's instincts told her the light had been a bad idea. "This is not good," she muttered, bumping into Snape's back as he stopped in the middle of the path, listening intently. "You can see in the dark, so use your wand for an attacking spell, not for 'Lumos.'"
"We need it," said Snape.
"But this is foolish!" she protested.
"We need it, Airelle," he said again.
"Snape! We're like sitting ducks here with your wand revealing our location."
"Does this look like a good time to argue?" he snapped, turning around to face her. Airelle met his dark gaze without flinching.
"Fine, you stubborn arse," she snapped back in exactly the same tone. "Get us killed; see if I care."
Snape's eyes had narrowed. "And how do you expect," he sneered, "to see what's attacking you? You won't be able to see a foot in front of you in the dark."
Airelle stared at him, realizing he'd been thinking about her safety. She felt bad about the verbal bite, but decided to apologize later.
"Don't worry about me," she replied, more softly. "I'm an Auror, I can manage. Now, come on, we're wasting time."
It took a second for Snape to say, "I expect you, then, to be ready to strike at any moment." It seemed he did not wish to continue the squabble; smart.
"Count on it," she answered shortly, and resumed walking. And then, the noises came again.
"D'you hear—"
"Yes," Snape cut her off. "There!"
He swerved sharply to the right, off the path, with Airelle close behind. Up ahead, there was a muffled crying of sorts, almost choked sobbing. Airelle shoved a bush aside roughly and plowed forwards, wand at the ready. There was no time to lose. Snape, however, came upon the scene first, and stopped dead in his tracks.
"What the—"
They had burst onto a small clearing, surrounded by tree with broken, rotting branches and parchment-yellow foliage. Pale, ghostly moonlight peeked through the leaves, illuminating several spots of grass in the center. Wilting flowers stuck out in a disorderly fashion here and there, as if daring a gardener to lay a hand to them. And in the middle of the clearing lay the form of a human being, which looked more like a crumpled heap of cloth that had been discarded. It was a young woman, with long, shiny black hair and regal purple robes that looked so out of place with the rest of the surroundings. Her face was upturned and pale. Airelle stared, and recognized her. She'd seen her an hour or so ago, in the Great Hall.
Delilah, Lupin's new teacher's aide.
Snape paused for a second before sweeping over to her. Airelle glanced around for danger. Seemingly nothing… but those cries…
There was a crack on the far side of the clearing, and both Airelle and Snape whirled and pointed their wands in that direction.
"Wait!" yelled Airelle to her friend as she recognized the bent shape huddling at the base of a tree in the shadows. "Neville!"
Before Snape could say anything, Airelle lowered her wand and rushed forward towards the boy. He was clutching a dead root in his hands; his school robes were torn and dirty; his head was bent, and his back shook with stifled sobs.
"Neville," Airelle repeated, kneeling next to him and tapping him lightly on the shoulder. "Look at me."
Slowly, Neville lifted his head. Airelle gasped; he had a black eye and his upper lip was cut. A thin stream of blood trickled down his chin, but he seemed not to notice it.
"Oh, dear," said Airelle gently. "Can you talk?"
There was a silent nod. Airelle glanced backwards at Snape, who had sunk on his knees beside Delilah and was examining her closely. Faintly, she could hear more voices coming their way. It sounded like McGonagall, and maybe Flitwick…
"You're going to be all right," Airelle reassured the boy, and then raised her voice towards the forest. "Minerva!" she roared. "HERE!!"
Snape stood up and was about to say something to Neville. Airelle gave him a glare that said, 'If you take points off Neville now, I'm going to tear your head off.' Snape either got the message, or had no idea what she meant. In any case, he was silent, which was a good thing. Neville did not need to be traumatized further by the presence of his most hated teacher.
There was some shuffling close by, and Airelle raised her head just in time. It seemed like an entire mob had crashed into the clearing. They were in full dress-robe regalia of all colours, of course, and looked like they'd just come from a Mardi Gras Festival. Airelle squinted, and recognized Dumbledore's long white beard first.
"Headmaster!" she called as the newcomers froze in their tracks, much like Airelle and Snape had done. "It's Neville Longbottom… and…"
"Delilah B. Haze," finished Dumbledore, staring down thoughtfully at the prostrate body of the girl. "Severus?" It was a question that spoke volumes.
"She has been grievously injured, Headmaster," said Snape, looking at the elder wizard with slight worry in his face. "Several pain curses, a medley of charms I have never even seen before, and a partial Memory Wipe. It seems like the attacker had not been able to finish his job properly."
"Perhaps our young friend here may help us clear the situation," stated Dumbledore quietly, walking towards Airelle and Neville, who were both still sitting. "How is he, Airelle?"
"I recognize a pain curse as well," she said, patting Neville's head absently. "There is more, but I cannot place it just now."
"He has had quite a shock," said Dumbledore, stroking his beard. "I think, Madame Pomfrey, that a Sleep Potion is necessary to give some rest—"
"No," came a firm voice, and it took a while for Airelle to realize it had been Neville's. His eyes were flashing in his pale face, and his cut lip dribbled more blood. "Can't sleep—" He pointed a finger away from the clearing, further into the forest, and dropped it. Airelle and the others stared.
"What's out there? The thing that attacked you?"
Another nod, and McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sinistra headed cautiously in that direction, wands in attack position.
"Its useless to search," muttered Snape darkly. "They're long gone by now."
Dumbledore was about to say something, but was interrupted by Neville yet again.
"Dark Mark," the boy gasped, and wiped away the blood on his chin.
Those two words sent the assembled group in an uproar. Some wanted to alert the Ministry right away, some wished to go and search in the forest, and others decided that it would be best to return to the castle. In the middle of this, Dumbledore restored silence.
"Everyone must go back to the school," he announced calmly. "Professors, please make certain no one is left outdoors tonight, in case the attacker decides to return. All students must be in their dormitories within twenty minutes. Heads of Houses, please inform your respective students about what has happened, and assure them that everything is well now. Especially you, Minerva."
McGonagall, who looked even paler than Neville, nodded.
"I think that this was an isolated incident, and no other students shall be attacked," continued the Headmaster. "However, we do not wish to take any chances. So, I leave the students' evening activities to your discretion. Now, let us return, and see what Mr. Longbottom can tell us once he is settled."
Airelle glanced at the boy, who was still shaking. Then at the unconscious figure of Delilah Haze. Then, at Snape. And from the look on his face, the Potions professor did not understand this any better than Airelle did.
The students were not pleased about having to end the Yule Ball an hour and a half early; that was no surprise. But after word got out that there had been an attack, Airelle found herself bombarded by dozens of Gryffindors and other anxious people asking who it was, how it occurred, and the types of questions she did not really wish to spend time answering.
"Please," she said, backing away into a corridor, followed by no less than thirty students, "please, calm yourselves. Everything shall be fine. Now, I suggest you speak--" (here she felt a little bad, but decided, via her own rationing, that it was for the best) "—with your Head of House. I am needed upstairs."
"But, Professor—"
"I heard it was Neville Longbottom!"
"Is he well?"
"Who attacked him?"
"All I know," said Airelle smoothly, "that no one is to disturb him in the Hospital Wing until he recovers. Good-night."
Some angry muttering followed her up the staircase, but she paid no heed. It was understandable; the students were concerned. And if they only knew what Neville had said about the Dark Mark, they'd positively trample her with questions.
Who could it have been? Someone must have lured Neville into the Forbidden Forest. But for what reason? And what did Lupin's new aide have to do with it?
Panting, Airelle decided to head towards the infirmary. Surely, there her questions would be shed some light on.
Ten minutes later, Airelle Vilka found herself pacing her bedroom, absently twirling a strand of her hair, which had fallen out of its bun in the excitement. She had not been allowed to even see Neville.
"I'm sorry," Madame Pomfrey had said through a crack in the infirmary door. "The Headmaster is watching over Mr. Longbottom, who has been given a Recovery Solution. He shall call you as soon as Neville is ready to speak."
Airelle slumped on her unmade bed, which she had not slept in for a week. The students were agitated, the teachers all had worried looks on their faces (with the exception of Dumbledore, who seemed to be perpetually calm), and there were two people lying in the Hospital Wing, one unconscious and the other speaking of the Dark Mark. Fantastic.
She sighed and pulled off her dress robes; the ball was over. As she did so, Airelle's beleaguered mind flew to Delilah B. Haze again. She had not seen the young woman in the school before the Yule Ball, so she must have arrived either that day or during the time Airelle was unconscious in the Hospital Wing. But how on earth did she wind up in the Forbidden Forest, when she'd been talking to Lupin that whole night? How?
Airelle glanced up, took a glass of wine off her nightstand, and drank it straight. Lupin. That was the answer; he'd know when, and possibly why, Delilah left his company. It suddenly occurred to the Illusions professor that she hadn't seen Lupin since that time. He was not in the Forbidden Forest with Dumbledore and the others…
Airelle cursed herself. Lupin was one of the Marauders; James Potter, murdered by Voldemort, had been his best friend. There was no way he could be involved in the attack. No way. But still… perhaps he knew something Dumbledore did not.
She had just made up her mind to go and search for the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor when a slight knock sound on her door. Not curious at all, Airelle rose and shuffled around her bed to the doorknob. Neville had probably recovered, and they wanted the teachers there--
She opened it. Severus Snape was on the other side of the doorway.
"Oh, hello," she said, blinking in surprise. "I wasn't expecting you."
"No one ever does," he replied, but then fell silent and stared at her, as if he'd been shocked with a lightning bolt. Airelle gazed back, arching her eyebrows.
"What?" she asked. "Have I suddenly sprouted extra heads like a Hydra?"
When her friend spoke again, his voice was different. "Am I… interrupting something?" he asked softly, his black eyes glittering.
Airelle frowned. "Of course you're not. What, do you think I'm having a party in here? Come in already!" And she stepped back from the door, allowing Snape to enter. He didn't move.
"Then…why are you wearing that?"
"Eh?" Airelle looked down, and then, it hit her. She had removed her robes, forgetting all about the dress underneath. She had not had a chance to show it to Snape, in the turbulence of the night's events. Dear, you're quite a sight, said a voice in her head tauntingly. Your hair tousled, the dress hanging off your bare shoulders—one would think you'd just—
Shaking her head vigorously, Airelle smiled at Snape. "Oh, this?" she asked. "This…is a dress."
Snape crossed his arms as she closed the door after him. "I can see that," was his response. "Why are you wearing it?"
"Err…" Airelle went deeper into the bedroom and set her empty wineglass back on the nightstand. "I was planning to wear it for the ball… but couldn't, since, you know, dress robes and all," she said hastily. "It's, umm, a Muggle dress, which is why it doesn't look like a robe." She rummaged in the drawer of the nightstand for a wrap to put her hair into its usual ponytail. She could not find it, and eventually gave up, when Snape's voice called from behind her, "I see it does not have a… back."
Airelle grinned and turned around. Perhaps she was going to have fun watching her friend's reaction after all. She could not resist her next question. "Do you like it?"
Snape suddenly looked like he wanted to run, and Airelle raised her eyebrows, trying very hard to suppress a smile. It was not every day Snape looked like this. She doubted anyone had ever asked him that question before, at least as far as skin-showing, tight dresses were concerned. Airelle herself had worn robes all the time during their friendship as students, even outside of school. Well, most of the time. Still, the only Muggle clothes Snape had ever seen her in were long nightgowns, shirts, and pants. But nothing like this, ever…
"Well?" she asked. Snape was, obviously, still trying to formulate a response that would be neither nasty nor too nice.
"I think," he finally said, eyeing her carefully, "that it… accentuates your figure. But I never knew you were so thin."
"If you tell me I'm not eating right, I swear I'll hex you," she laughed, allowing the repressed grin to finally stretch her face and deciding to spare him any more of her questions. "I eat like a pig."
"I do know that much," he smirked, and Airelle looked at him in mock threat. "But seriously," Snape added, "I'm not proficient in my knowledge of Muggle clothing; nevertheless, I think that you do look fine. Even if the dress is a bit--" He paused, as if contemplating a word. "--revealing… for my taste." His eyes had returned to their normal state as their sweeping gaze took in Airelle's entire form, up to the hem. It was a look that made her feel oddly under-dressed. God, not this again. There ought to be a law against eyes like that.
"Ah," said Airelle quickly. "Well, anyway…take a seat. I know it isn't as fancy up here as in your bedroom, but I daresay—"
"I'm not that vainglorious, Airelle," said Snape, and placed himself on a chair opposite the bed. Airelle threw the sheets closer to the pillow to make a space for herself and sat facing him.
"So," she asked, "did Dumbledore say anything yet? About Neville?"
"They would not allow me into the infirmary," he replied, stifling a yawn. It was by now pretty late, though not nearly as late as they'd often stay up in their student days. It showed that Snape was badly in need of a good night's sleep. Now, that's the pot calling the kettle black, said Airelle to herself acidly. If you can't rest because of your nightmares, imagine what a double agent for Dumbledore against Voldemort must dream about.
"Same here," she said. "Madame Pomfrey told me to wait until I'm called."
"Where is Lupin, I wonder?" asked Snape, voicing Airelle's thoughts.
"That's what I want to know," answered the professor, standing up and beginning to pace again in front of her bed. "And what this Delilah Haze has to do with the incident." She leaned on a bedpost. "Strange goings-on, we have here."
Snape was silent for a long time. Airelle looked up at him, and his brow was furled.
"What is it?" she asked, coming closer to his chair. "You are upset."
More silence.
"Look," she tried, suddenly remembering her promise to herself, "if you're thinking of the Forbidden Forest… I'm…eh, I'm sorry for snapping at you." She breathed out through her nose loudly. "I did not mean to hurt you."
He finally looked up, and his eyes were inscrutable; they told her nothing. "It takes much more than a word to hurt me," he replied coolly. "But thank you for the apology."
"Then what is it?"
"I should have known about the attack, as Voldemort's agent at Hogwarts," he replied, looking out into space as if he were not all there. "If it was indeed a Death Eater who attacked Longbottom and Lupin's aide, I should have been informed. But I was not. Moreover," –and at this he sounded like he had been harboring the words for a while—"my own Dark Mark had not burned black for a long time, and no Death Eaters have contacted me. I fear that Voldemort does not believe I returned to him fully. And that means… he may be plotting to kill me."
"That's ridiculous," Airelle said hotly, not daring to admit to herself that Snape might have guessed the truth. "Voldemort has no reason to doubt your loyalty yet. Perhaps Delilah and Neville were attacked for another reason."
Snape's face did not brighten, but his eyes sparkled a little. "Maybe…" he murmured, more to himself than to Airelle. "Maybe this girl knew something that needed to be hushed before she had a chance to talk."
"And Neville simply was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe he decided to be brave, and sneak off to the forest to prove himself. Then, he unwittingly came upon a scene he should not have witnessed."
"Longbottom is, as Americans put it so eloquently, a scaredy-cat," said Snape. "Not even a dare from the likes of Potter would convince him to make a trip to the forest alone."
"You'd be surprised," muttered Airelle darkly, thinking of her broom training with Neville every Saturday and now, every Wednesday as well. He had been gaining confidence… but had that inadvertently turned to stupidity?
"Supposing he did indeed go there by himself," said Snape, "why was Delilah not silenced earlier, before she came to Hogwarts? Whoever attacked her, if it was planned, knew how dangerous it would be to strike in a protected area. Why did this person risk Dumbledore's magic, rather than kill the girl in some grimy alleyway?"
Airelle glanced up. "So, you think she was attacked because she saw something here? At the school?"
"Perhaps," said the Potions Master thoughtfully, furrowing his brows even further over his hooked nose. "But what could she have seen?"
A cold realization sliced into Airelle's heart. "D'you think… there might be another secret Death Eater here? Like… like Moody last year? And when she discovered him, he attacked her?"
"What I wish to know is how she and Longbottom wandered into the forest, whether by force or not. And if this Death Eater, if there is one, is still in the school," said Snape.
"Hmm," sighed Airelle and sat on the table next to her friend. "Hmm."
"We shall just have to see what Longbottom tells us."
"What about Delilah?" she asked.
"Judging from her injuries," mumbled Snape gloomily, "it'll be a while before she can tell us anything. However good Madame Pomfrey is, she won't be able to fix this sort of malady in a few days. We shall be lucky if the girl awakens at all."
Airelle shifted slightly on the tabletop and swung her legs back and forth, so as to give them something productive to do. A thought raked her mind as she stared at the stone floor… What if Snape's right? If Voldemort really knows he's a traitor… this attack has proven that even Hogwarts won't be safe for him… and if he is summoned by the Dark Mark again… then he could be killed and replaced so easily…
Her musings were interrupted by another knock at the door. When Airelle made to jump off the table, Snape said, "Sit. I'll open it."
He swept to the door and pulled it open. There was a soft gasp from the hallway. From between Snape's arm and the rest of his body, Airelle could distinguish a very terrified face, that of a fifth-year Gryffindor girl with bushy brown hair. Hermione Granger.
"Professor!" she squeaked, staring up at Snape as though she had expected Father Christmas and got the Grim Reaper instead. "I—I wanted—"
"To lose points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger?" Snape sneered. "You are not aware, perhaps, that all students are supposed to be in their common rooms now? Or are you, as usual, running about asking for trouble to slap you in the face?"
Hermione looked like she was ready to sink through the floor, but said firmly, "Headmaster Dumbledore wishes to see Professor Vilka in the Hospital Wing immediately." She looked around Snape to Airelle, who gave her a nod of approval.
"Thank you, Miss Granger," said Snape, in a tone that was no less harsh than previously. "Now, go back to your common room, and do not wander off to another part of the castle on the way." With that, he shut the door in her face.
Airelle grinned at her friend when he turned around to face her. "The word 'nice' is not in your vocabulary, is it?" she asked, not even bothering to hide her laughter. Snape did not reply, and the Illusions professor kept sniggering as she followed him out into the hallway.
Once outside, Snape glided wordlessly to a staircase leading to the Hospital Wing, leaving Airelle to lock her door. As she did so, her line of vision caught a figure stirring at the other end of the corridor. She turned her head quickly and recognized none other than Harry Potter himself. Airelle looked back at Snape, who was at the moment walking up the stairs. Swiveling her head back again, she checked her doorknob and, satisfied, gave the Gryffindor the thumbs up. He had probably been worried about Neville, and wanted to be the one to inform Airelle and ask her questions, but Hermione took the job. And a good thing that was, too; Snape would have probably screamed bloody murder if he saw Harry Potter anywhere out of his dormitory now. Airelle made a shooing gesture to Harry, who understood and disappeared promptly just as Snape made his way back down the stairs.
"Coming?" he asked. Airelle shook her head and proceeded after him, hoping Neville was all right. In truth, she was just as worried about the boy as Potter was. Perhaps even more, since she knew about what Neville had said of the Dark Mark… and he was so nice to her…
Well, so much for Thomas Teezy's Teaching Manual's warning not to get attached to students, she thought sourly, and trudged up the stone stairway in the wake of Snape's billowing black robes.
"Ah, Severus, Airelle, good of you to come," was the greeting they received when the infirmary door was finally opened for them. Inside was a medium-sized group of people – Dumbledore, McGonagall, Pomfrey, Sprout, Flitwick, and, to Airelle's relief, Lupin, who was bending over a bed and looking very alarmed.
"Close that door, if you please, Airelle," Dumbledore addressed her. Airelle obliged, and leaned on the door, while Snape stepped forward.
"How are they, Headmaster?" he asked, and his voice was tinged with eagerness.
"From what Remus and Poppy tell me, Severus," said the wizard, who was next to another bed in the corner, "Miss Haze is still unconscious, and it will be a while before she regains her senses."
"But it can be done?" asked Airelle, also stepping forward because the doorknob was digging into her back. Sprout, McGonagall, and Pomfrey all stared at her in much the same way as Snape had, and Airelle once again realized it was because of the dress. She'd forgotten to throw her robe back on before leaving.
"Muggle dress," she said quickly. "Long story."
Dumbledore was smiling when he answered her question. "Yes, it can be done. Remus shall have his aide back as soon as possible. But it is remarkable, really, how she withstood the medley of charms and curses that have been showered onto her."
Lupin bent back up over the bed, and Airelle could see Delilah's head, long dark hair cascading over the white sheet that covered her up to the neck. Her eyes were closed, and her lips were dry and pressed tightly together as if she were having a nightmare. The Illusions professor glanced to the right, to the bed in the corner, near which Dumbledore and McGonagall were standing. Neville was sitting up, straight and rather stiff, against the wall. He was wearing a thicker version of the Hospital Wing nightgown that Airelle herself had worn until that very morning, and a gleaming silver necklace dangled from his neck on a chain, its ornamental beast, curling around the initials N.L., almost alive in the pale moonlight. His chubby face was very white, but his eyes flashed defiantly at the pain as Madame Pomfrey bustled around him, wrapping his arm in bandages. The black eye had healed, and his cut lip had been mended; he looked almost normal, as if he'd been in class, except that the attack seemed to have given him a newfound strength to speak.
"Hullo, Professor," he said, smiling at Airelle and wincing as Madame Pomfrey bent his arm into a magical sling.
"Hi there, survivor," she said gently, brushing past Snape and sitting on the edge of the bed. "How are you feeling?"
"Great," he said with another wince.
"When are we going to start practicing your flying again, eh?" she smiled, trying to get away from the fact that they were in a medical facility after an attack by someone associated with Voldemort.
"Oh, Professor…" He paused and smiled back. "As soon as I get out of here, you may count on it—I won't let you down."
"Excellent!" Airelle patted the boy's good shoulder.
"Our young friend here is very brave," said Dumbledore, looking down at them both from the end of the bed. His eyes were twinkling. "He wanted to speak before taking the rest potion."
"A true Gryffindor," added McGonagall, her eyes glistening in the semi-darkness. Neville blushed; McGonagall rarely complimented him.
"Indeed," said the Headmaster, eyes still twinkling. "Now…" He turned towards McGonagall, Sprout, Flitwick, and Snape. "Have you all informed your respective Houses of the situation?"
When all four nodded agreement, Dumbledore continued, "Excellent. Now, I think that it is time for us to begin. Everyone who wishes to leave may do so."
No one moved. Dumbledore smiled and kept speaking placidly, turning his eyes toward Neville again.
"Very well then…Mr. Longbottom… would you please tell us all what happened, and how it came to be that you and Miss Delilah Haze found yourselves in the Forbidden Forest?"
"I don't remember everything," Neville began, now looking nervous, "but I'll tell you what I do know. I was wandering around the corridors near the library an hour or two after the Yule Ball began…I did not have a date…" He paused, smiling apologetically. "I was not really doing anything, just thinking about things. And then, I saw a young lady come up to me in the hallway. She said her name was Delilah, and she was looking for the nearest bathroom. She said she was Professor Lupin's new assistant."
"Does that correspond with what you witnessed, Remus?" asked Dumbledore.
"Yes," said Lupin, and Airelle saw Snape shoot an odd look at the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. "I was talking to Miss Haze, and then, she excused herself. I did not see her again after that, until…" He trailed off, gesturing towards the bed.
"Continue, Neville," said Dumbledore.
"Well," mumbled the boy as a thick silence descended once again, broken only by his voice and the soft breathing of the people in the room, "she had a pet parrot on her shoulder. It was very beautiful, all blue and red and yellow. I wanted to pet it, and she let me. She said it could even do tricks, and we were both playing with it when-- I guess someone came up behind us."
Snape drew in a sharp breath, and Airelle asked, "Who?"
"I did not really see his face in the dark," said Neville sadly. "But he wore black robes with a red hood. And he…waved his wand at me and Delilah, and said something. It was a lot like that time last year… when we did Curses in Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Moody. And I felt light… and the next thing I know, Delilah and I were outside, near the main doors in the rose garden. And… we saw a boy and a girl. The girl said hello to us, but we did not reply. There was only one thing we needed to do… go to the forest, the man had said. Go to the forest."
"The Imperius Curse," said Flitwick sorrowfully. Airelle nodded. She had never experienced it directly, but she'd seen enough people affected by it to last her a lifetime. Dumbledore and the others nodded in concord also.
"And then what happened?" asked McGonagall, wringing her fingers in a handkerchief.
Neville paused again; it looked like he was straining his memory. "Then…we went inside, and stopped in the clearing you saw. The man… was waiting for us there. He said something to Delilah, about the Dark Mark. Then, he pointed his wand at me, and yelled a charm, and I was thrown backwards into a tree on my arm. It was painful, and I cried out, but I felt like myself again, not light anymore." There was a hiatus in his speech. After a while, Neville began again, looking down and poking his finger at the bed sheets. "But then, something strange happened. My vision was blurry, so I could not see that well. But I knew he was going to hurt me… and suddenly, there was a blast from behind him. I think it was Delilah… she must've done something to him. He whirled around and… there was a blast of red light. She screamed, and fell, and he continued to shoot at her with his wand. I wanted to help but I couldn't get up. It was terrible."
"I imagine so," murmured Dumbledore. "So you think Miss Haze somehow fought off the Imperius Curse long enough to stop your attacker from killing you?"
"I… I suppose," said Neville. "He kept shouting things at her… But there were people coming – they must have heard me yell – and he turned and left into the forest. I stayed next to the tree, and Delilah was…was…" He trailed off.
"And that was when you came in, Airelle," said Dumbledore, looking towards her.
"Yes, Headmaster," she replied. "Professor Snape and I were there first."
"And you saw nobody save Miss Haze and Neville?"
"No one, sir."
"Interesting, rather interesting," said Dumbledore. "Why, I wonder, did our attacker not use the Avada Kedavra--" (Airelle flinched visibly at the words) "--on Miss Haze immediately? Am I correct in saying, Poppy, that she has been stricken with a Memory Wipe?"
"Yes," said Madame Pomfrey, sponging Delilah's forehead. "Not fully, however. I've never seen anything like this mélange of spells before."
"Curious. He must have attempted to hush it all up first, and when Miss Haze struck back, he barraged her with different charms and curses. Perhaps he lost his head at realizing that others would arrive soon… What else can you tell us, Neville?"
"Not much," said the Gryffindor fifth-year softly. "Many people came, and I knew I was safe. And Madame Pomfrey conjured a stretcher for me and Delilah."
Dumbledore shook his head. "Very good, Neville. You have helped us much. Possibly, if this person decides to return – and I have a feeling he will – we shall be ready for him. Now," he continued, turning to the rest of the group, "we have questioned Neville enough. It is late, and we all need some sleep on our first day of the holidays."
Most of the professors took this as their cue to exit, including Lupin and Snape. Airelle, however, was rooted on her spot on Neville's bed, watching the others leave. McGonagall engaged herself in a quiet conversation with Dumbledore, and they went out together, both with intensely thoughtful looks on their faces. Why do I get the feeling Dumbledore knows more about this than we do? Airelle thought. But then again, that man was anywhere and everywhere; he seemed to be omniscient. On the other hand, maybe he was just as confused as the others were. Maybe.
She smiled at Neville. "I think I should tell you, before Madame Pomfrey kicks me out," she grinned, "that I'm proud of you."
"For what?" Neville asked incredulously. "I didn't do anything. I couldn't even… help Delilah."
"Just… for not being afraid to speak out about this whole incident," she said, squeezing his hand. "And for being modest. Your parents would be pleased."
Neville was suddenly silent. Airelle blanched; maybe she should not have mentioned his parents so close to an event involving the Dark Lord. Coughing, she said, "Well, umm, I think I must go now. You get some rest too."
"I'll try and convince Madame Pomfrey to let me go back to the dormitory," he replied, twiddling his necklace (a family heirloom, judging by a crest in the middle) in his hands idly. "My friends… Harry… must be worried."
"You're right on that," laughed Airelle. "I saw him in the corridors. The Gryffindors are anxious; I say, if you're not feeling too bad, you should take the Sleeping Draught with you up to the dormitory and drink it there. At least you'll be with your friends."
"I'll try," Neville smiled. "Thank you, Professor."
"You're welcome," Airelle answered, standing up and heading towards the door as Madame Pomfrey emerged from an adjacent room with a bottle in her hands. "And don't forget your promise about the flying practice."
"I won't!"
"Go easy on him, Madame Pomfrey," she added as she headed outside and closed the door.
It was damp and dark in the dungeons as usual, and Airelle's breath rose in a mist in front of her face. Figuring her friend had gone downstairs, she'd decided to pay him a visit and discuss what they had heard. There was the matter of the man with the red hood… and also, of the missing notebook. Her thoughts swam back to Airelle's conversation with Snape before Hermione knocked on the door. What if Snape was right about Voldemort? she wondered again. I shall never forgive myself if he is called to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named as a Death Eater and killed. It'll be my fault, since he voiced his worries to me…
God, Vilka, get a grip on yourself. There is nothing to worry about yet, Airelle tried mentally. Nothing. Neville is fine; Delilah shall be, hopefully, and Fudge won't probably even believe Dumbledore if he says anything about the Dark Mark. The attacker won't return, and if he will… Dumbledore can be trusted to take care of it. And as for the notebook—like Alica Tylon said, probably just a childish prank.
But deep inside…Airelle knew that was too optimistic. This was not the end of it; every instinct in her body, Auror or not, screamed with the knowledge. The question was: how many of her fears were going to come true?
She turned a corner and came upon an old suit of armor, the hand of which she had turned the previous night. It opened the passageway to the room in which Tom Riddle's--Voldemort's--school possessions were concealed. Airelle stared at it dejectedly for a moment before moving on. What if whoever attacked Delilah had stolen the notebook as well? But when would he have time? And how did he know to take it from Alica and Tracy at that very time? Were the two incidents possibly connected?
Sighing, she resolved herself to converse about all these things with the Potions Master when she saw him. It would not be too long now; the door to his chambers was just ahead…
She made to turn another corner, but stopped dead. There were voices ahead, just around the bend. One of them was Snape's, and the other—
Remus Lupin.
Airelle leaned against the cold stones and strained her hearing. There was a leak in the ceiling next to her, emitting a sinister and steady drip that sounded like Chinese water torture in the stillness. The voices came again, and the coldness of Snape's tone chilled even Airelle's blood.
"Really, Lupin, you expect me to believe that?" he was saying. "Perhaps there is another reason why you were not anywhere near that girl when she was attacked."
When Lupin replied, his voice was deadly calm. "You've gone stark raving mad, Snape, if you believe I am in league with the man who murdered my best friend."
"Oh, I'm not saying that," retorted the other acidly. "Dumbledore may trust you. But Black is a totally different thing, as far as I'm concerned. Perhaps Dumbledore has not realized it as of yet."
Airelle almost gasped. Black… as in Sirius Black? The infamous Azkaban escapee? She knew Lupin was friends with Black back in their student years, but she never dreamed that, even after the death of Peter Pettigrew--
"Think about it, Lupin… a fugitive on the run," muttered Snape. "I know you've been sneaking Black into the school to see his beloved Potter or for whatever reason. You're endangering Hogwarts. Imagine if Cornelius Fudge discovers that a criminal sentenced to a Dementor's Kiss on the spot is found lounging about in these corridors."
"Sirius Black has not been inside the walls of this school," answered Lupin slowly. "But even if he had been… Black is a good man, better than many I've met over the course of my life. He is in no way connected to the attack on Longbottom and Ms. Haze, Snape, and you know it perfectly."
"Are you so certain of that?" whispered Snape, and Airelle could just imagine him backing Lupin into the wall with his dark gaze. Then again, knowing Remus Lupin, that was not likely the picture. But in any case, that was not what mattered. She listened as her friend continued speaking.
"Just how well do you know your friend, Lupin?" asked Snape lethally, as if the question was meant to pierce a heart. "You must not have too much open contact with him, and he'd been a prisoner of Azkaban for twelve long years. What if the trust in him, both yours and Dumbledore's, is misplaced?"
"You are misguided," said the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor with a deep, heavy sigh. "I do not harbor long-standing animosity as you do, and I feel sorry for the fact that you blame a crime on an innocent man."
"I don't need your pity, of all people," sneered Snape.
"Very well, then," replied Lupin, and there was a shuffle of robes. "As long as you know that we are all against Voldemort, I have no problem."
"Just make sure that is true concerning Black," said Snape. "And I'll be watching."
"Keep watching, then, if you choose to waste your time in that fashion."
There was silence from both, and then footsteps headed away from Airelle towards the other end of the corridor. Lupin had left, apparently.
Airelle wanted to sink into the wall. Dumbledore… trusting Black?
"You did not tell me everything that night," she said coolly, stepping around the corner. Snape jumped in surprise, but regained his composure within a second.
"You did not ask," he said.
Airelle was miffed, seriously. "This was important! Dumbledore having confidence in a wanted criminal? You seemed to have left it out during your little conversation about Moody and the Goblet of Fire. Did it slip your mind?" she asked sarcastically, staring up at him.
"There are many things you do not know about, Airelle," said Snape. "But in any event, innocent or not, I do not trust Black, not matter how much Dumbledore does."
"Oh, not this again," scowled Airelle, crossing her arms. Her voice echoed in the corridor, but she did not care. "You know, I think Lupin's right. You hold rancor against Black, and still think he is nothing less than something slimy under your boot."
"Did you happen to forget how he treated the both of us, in school?" Snape asked, stepping closer to her. Airelle promised mentally to give herself points for not backing away.
"No," she answered softly. "But that's over. If Dumbledore trusts Black, I will go along with it, whatever Black may have done in the past. I don't even need to hear why. Dumbledore is wiser and more intuitive than all the people in this school put together. You are brilliant, Snape, but you've held the hate in for far too long."
"Are you my therapist now?" he asked harshly. His face was inches away from hers, and his black liquid gaze could have melted iron on the spot. Airelle stared up at him.
"No, I'm not your therapist," she answered. "I'm your friend. Your best friend, if I'm not mistaken. And frankly, I think you're just being a judgmental slob."
"Am I?" he asked, his voice dropping about twelve tones to an impossibly soft pitch.
"Yes, you are." She continued to look up at him, and neither of them moved a muscle. It was an odd scene; a strange face-off right in front of Snape's 'fake' bedroom, a dying torch on the wall framing their faces, and the inexorable drip, drip of the leaking water somewhere in the background.
Airelle's heart was, for some reason, doing a drumbeat repertoire in her chest. Her stomach muscles began to spasm slightly, partly because of all the stress she'd been through… but mostly because at that very moment, Snape's long, slender fingers curled around her bare shoulders. She suddenly wished she hadn't worn that stupid, God-forsaken dress…
She felt a slight but steady pull on Snape's part, drawing her towards himself. Oh, dear…oh, my God. Somebody tell me again, what am I doing here?
Airelle did not break her eyes from Snape. They sparkled so much, like the obsidian water in Almathea's bath. She could see her reflection in it.
This was it… she knew it. It was really easy, her friends had said once. Just tilt your head, open your lips, and indulge yourself in a delightful game of tonsil hockey. But surely… none of her friends had expected this to occur with Severus Snape, the Slytherin Snake??
Go on, do it, said a voice slyly in her head. I dare you.
Airelle gulped. There was nothing in Thomas Teezy's Teaching Manual that could relate even remotely to this. She was on her own.
Eat your heart out, all you swooning damsels, muttered Airelle to herself, and smiled at Snape.
"Umm… I think it is best for us to talk about all this tomorrow, and over the holidays. With… you know, clear heads and all."
Snape looked at her for a second, and released her immediately. "Very well, then," he said calmly. "Sleep well, Airelle."
She nodded. "Right… you too. Good night." And then, Airelle turned on her heel and left the corridor, knowing she'd have one hell of a migraine sorting all this out in the morning. Of course, she did not see the slow grin that had crept onto Snape's face as he opened the door to his bedroom.
To Be Continued…
