Chapter 3
concentration \Con`cen*tra"tion\, n. [Cf. F. concentration.] 1. The act or process of concentrating; the process of becoming concentrated, or the state of being concentrated; concentration.
Concentration of the lunar beams. --Boyle.
Intense concentration of thought. --Sir J. Herschel.
2. The act or process of reducing the volume of a liquid, as by evaporation.
The acid acquires a higher degree of concentration. --Knight.
3. (Metal.) The act or process of removing the dress of ore and of reducing the valuable part to smaller compass, as by currents of air or water.
The next morning, Rebecca woke feeling hung over. Her head pounded, she felt sick to her stomach. The light streaming in the open window made her feel worse. She quickly drew the curtains over them.
"You and your aversion to light," said a high pitched voice behind Rebecca. Rebecca turned to find her flatmate Gabby standing there. Gabby was something of a sun-worshiper. She did not actually worship the sun, as some of Rebecca's friends did, but she was tan all year round, with peroxide blond hair. She was sickeningly thin and wore extremely revealing clothing.
Gabby was almost never home at night. She always spent the night with some boy or other. She was quite Rebecca's opposite. The two got along wonderfully, though. Rebecca liked having the flat quiet and empty at night, and Gabby liked having Rebecca gone at work all day so she could sleep. The two girls hardly ever saw each other.
"You think it's easy keeping my skin like this?" joked Rebecca. In the year since her graduation from Hogwarts, the faint tan she had obtained playing quidditch had disappeared completely.
Gabby slouched against the doorway to Rebecca's room. "You all right?" she asked. "You look hung over."
"I feel hung over," groaned Rebecca.
"What did you do last night?" A small smile was forming on Gabby's lips. "Don't tell me you actually went to a party?"
Rebecca grinned back. "No, I went to a meeting of the cult my fiancé is in. Then we came here and tried to think of a counter-curse for a mind control spell. then he made me tea, put a bunch of herbs in it and I went to bed." Everything she said was true, but Gabby would interpret it as sarcasm. She had laughed when Rebecca had first told her she was engaged. Naturally, Rebecca had no pictures of Severus to show Gabby, as in the few pictures she had, he was moving. That would not go over well with Gabby, a muggle. Rebecca had long ago given up on trying to convince her flatmate of Severus's existence.
Gabby threw up her arms in surrender. "All right, all right. I give up. You don't have to tell me. I'm going to bed."
Rebecca stared at the spot where Gabby had been. "You just got home?" she called incredulously.
A slamming door was her only response. Shaking her head in amazement, Rebecca climbed out of bed. She was a night person herself, but to come home at - she glanced at the clock - nine o'clock in the morning? Yikes! I'm going to be late! she realized, rushing for the door.
After sticking her head in the hall to make sure Gabby had gone to bed, Rebecca pulled her wand from under her mattress. Living with a muggle has serious disadvantages, she grumbled inwardly, magically closing her door.
She then opened the door to her wardrobe and pushed the muggle clothes hanging there aside. Carved into the back of the wardrobe was a snake. It was a crude carving; Rebecca had done it herself with a penknife, but it worked as a portal to a magical room. She whispered the password, "parseltoung," and the back of the wardrobe slid silently open. She stepped through into a tiny room. Books were piled everywhere, stacks and stacks of boxes containing potions ingredients were heaped in one corner, and several robes, cloaks, and other wizarding wear hung on one wall. All this was illuminated by a floating candelabra in the centre of the room.
After she dressed, she dissapperated. Many times, Gabby had commented on how she never heard Rebecca leaving for work. Rebecca had asked if she would prefer her to stand in the foyer with a briefcase, shout, "I'm off, then, dear!" and slam the door behind her. Gabby had promptly thanked her for not doing this, though she often complained that Rebecca moved as silently as a cat.
"A bit distracted today, are we?" asked Merl, Rebecca's supervisor. Rebecca blinked. She had been lost in thought, not even realizing that she had not moved for a full minute since her apparition.
"Sorry, Merl," she apologized, reaching for the parchment he was holding out to her. Mentally upbraiding herself, she got to work. She had a right to be distracted, after all, but paying attention to her potion was vital. She worked for the Ministry of Magic, experimenting with different potions, most of which would be put to use by Aurors.
Once again, though, her mind was wandering. Last night, Severus had told her that Voldemort had forbidden him to see her again, unless it was to capture her and bring her to Voldemort himself. Of course, she had had no choice but to ask him to keep himself out of danger of the Dark Lord's wrath and stay away from her. He would not be coming to visit her again unless it was vital.
She sighed aloud and tried once again to focus on the basilisk venom she was measuring. If she spilled any. . .
Severus had taught her the properties of basilisk venom in sixth year. They had been holed up in a corner of the library together. . .
She forcefully snapped her mind back to the present. Why was she thinking of him like this? He had never interfered with her work before. Was it because now, more than ever, she was afraid for his life? Why did I have to get so mad at Voldemort last night? Why the hell did he have to go and join the Death Eaters anyway? What was I thinking, letting him? she wondered. Now they were both in danger, because of her. Obviously, Voldemort thought her weak, or he would not have allowed her to leave alive, but he could be plotting something sinister. . .
"Keep your mind on your work, girl!" she yelled aloud.
"Couldn't have said it better myself." It was Merl, looking concerned. "If you can't focus, take the day off, Beck. We don't need you blowing up the building."
With a sigh, Rebecca dissapperated again.
