The next thing Charlotte knew, she back in her room, curled up in a chair watching Snape make tea. Where he had conjured a teapot from she didn't know, but she focused on his movements rather than do any serious thinking about anything. He handed her a mug and she cradled it in her hands, letting the steam curl around her face and breathing in the scent of water vapor and tea leaves. She was conscious of Snape sitting across from her, slowly sipping from his own mug.
"Who is he?" she asked, finally
"Lucius Malfoy, member of one of the oldest wizarding families in Britain – and believe me, no one is more aware of that fact than he is."
Charlotte snorted, "What was he doing here?"
"He had a meeting with Dumbledore," Snape answered, frowning, "It is not my place to enquire into the Headmaster's daily schedule. Malfoy does have a son enrolled here and he was at one time on the Hogwarts Board of Governors. Don't look so surprised," he said, taking a sip of tea, "Malfoy is a man of considerable influence with enough wealth for many to overlook his supposed allegiances."
"Nice to see that money and power can buy anything in this world as well," Charlotte sneered slightly. "But what 'supposed allegiances'? Was he a supporter of Vol-Voldemort?"
"After Voldemort's fall, Malfoy returned to the fold saying he had been under a spell." Snape paused, "It is widely suspected but not generally known that he has returned to the Dark Lord's side."
"I'd say his penchant for cloaks and harassing innocent Muggles would be a good indication of that."
Snape's mouth twitched briefly into something like a smirk, "Indeed."
"But how did you know it was Malfoy who attacked me?"
Her companion's whole body stiffened. "I have my resources," he replied shortly.
"Whoa, defensive much? It's just a simple question."
The Potions Master growled, "You know nothing of the matter, Miss Parnell."
"Of course, how could I? I'm counting on my tutor to fill me in." Snape made no reply, choosing instead to glower into his tea cup. "I don't know anything about it, not really. I wasn't there." She continued in a softer tone, realizing Snape was not going to comment. "But I've read everything in the library and the Headmaster has told me a little. For what it's worth, I'm sorry. It must have been an awful time. I'm scared, frankly, without ay reason to be. Although, I doubt Voldemort will take the same view of my Muggleness as you do," she said with a brief smile. "Now that I know the guy who's probably gunning for me is an influential elitist who just happens to be a Death Eater, I'm really frightened. I need someone to reassure me, unfortunately that task falls to you."
Snape sighed, "No one should look to me for reassurance, especially not when it comes to Voldemort." He stared darkly into the empty grate. Charlotte was about to change the subject when he began to speak again.
"It does not look good for those who stand against the Dark Lord. Voldemort has returned to full strength and called his followers to him. The Ministry doubts he can be as dangerous as fifteen years ago, but they are wrong. His madness and cruelty have only increased. He has begun culling his own people, killing those who did not respond to his summons or those who betrayed him," Snape said tonelessly. "Once he has completed that task he will move on to the Muggle-born and those who opposed his first rise."
"That's it? We just stand in line and wait for Voldemort to get us? Is there no hope?"
"While Harry Potter and his cohorts have managed to circumvent Voldemort's plans in the past, I find it unlikely that a trio of teenagers is a match for the Dark Lord at full strength."
"Please Professor; do attempt to reign in your optimism." She shivered violently, nearly spilling her tea. Charlotte wrapped her robes tightly around her, suddenly cold in the cozy room.
The Potions Master set down his cup and stood. "I should return to the dungeon, I have a great deal of work to do."
Charlotte looked up at him and nodded, "Of course," she said bracingly, "Thank you for – well, for everything."
Snape turned back at the portrait hole and looked at the girl curled in the large armchair trying to be brave. "Do you know," he began, conversationally, "there was only one man they said Voldemort was truly afraid of?" Charlotte shook her head. "His name is Albus Dumbledore. And, as much as it is wasted on some of us, he cares for everyone at this school like his own family." With a half bow, he was gone.
***
In mid-November, Snape decided to teach Charlotte some basic dueling skills, which ended in Charlotte being rushed to Madam Pomfrey with a broken wrist. Relations between the two were quite cool until one evening Snape asked a mundane question about Muggle science that led to a discussion of the difference between American and English educational systems that led to Charlotte discovering, in the middle of a story about her crazy alcoholic chemistry teacher, that she was no longer out of charity with her tutor. In a swift chain of thought she realized what he had done, drawing her into conversation on a topic that he knew she had strong feelings about. She was rather touched that he wanted her not to be annoyed with him anymore, although, knowing him it was for some practical reason like it being easier to make potion when the person chopping the ingredients wasn't taking her aggression out on the hapless plants. She didn't mind, it was more fun to argue and debate with him then to seethe in a corner. Besides, it wasn't like he had done any lasting damage, or that it had really been his fault. It was her pride that was hurt more than anything. Maybe later she'd ask for a rematch.
One morning in early December, Charlotte emerged from her room to a chorus of suits of armor singing 'Gaudete'. Too late, she remembered Dumbledore's innocent question about her favorite Christmas carol. She could only hope that the carolers would be confined to the teachers' wing and not serenade her all the way down to the Great Hall. Thank Merlin I didn't say Santa Claus is Coming to Town or something equally offensive. The fall term was coming to a close and the whole of Hogwarts was in good spirits. A few days earlier, Hagrid had dragged impossibly large pine trees into the Hall and the faculty (one scowling Potions Master excepted) had spent the evening decorating them. Charlotte had managed to make a credible showing levitating ornaments with Professor Flitwick but spent most of the evening stringing popcorn garlands with Professor Sprout by hand. She was looking forward to the peace and quiet of the Christmas holidays, but every day of vacation brought the new semester and American Muggle Studies closer. The lesson plans were set; it was keeping up the ruse of being a trained witch that she was worried about. The other problem was that once the term started, she would be stuck there until at least the summer. Someday she was going to have to go back to Oxford, but both Snape and Dumbledore were very vague about when that day might be. Having met Lucius without his robes, Charlotte wasn't really in any rush to escape the protection of Hogwarts. At the same time, she couldn't hide from the specter of Malfoy and Voldemort forever.
Conspicuously absent from the companionable faculty gathering was Professor Snape. Charlotte hadn't really expected to see him. His muttered comments at faculty meetings made his feelings abundantly clear; as much as he respected Dumbledore, he was not going to kowtow to the Headmaster's idea of fun. Charlotte reminded herself again to sit away from Snape at the next meeting. She had no desire to be on the receiving end of Dumbledore's less than beatific stares for snickering in the middle of Sybill Trelawney's monologue on the position of the stars.
At last trunks were packed, good-byes said and the train boarded. The looming threat of Voldemort had prompted most families to call their children home for the holidays, only a handful remained at Hogwarts. Besides the habitual presence of Potter and the Weasleys from Gryffindor there were also two first year Hufflepuffs and three Ravenclaws. The children condensed down to one table for meals. The atmosphere was far more relaxed and comfortable than in the bustle of term time. Charlotte only got to partake of this atmosphere at meal times; the rest of the day had altered very little with the holidays. She still saw Snape every afternoon for her lessons, still spent most of the day in the library. She was studying for her Apparition license. Snape had suggested it after another unsuccessful duel. "If you do not have the presence of mind to use a simple counter-curse, I would advise you to Apparate everywhere – he can't kill what he can't catch." Charlotte wryly wondered if Snape had hoped the description of splinching in Apparition for Squibs would put the fear of God in her and improve her dueling technique.
Snape didn't seem to believe in holidays, and Charlotte didn't exactly have a full social calendar, so she duly traveled down to the dungeons on Christmas Eve. The classroom was empty so she went further down the hallway to Snape's rooms. The door was closed, which was not unusual. She hesitated before knocking; it wasn't like him to forget about things. Perhaps he had decided to show some last minute holiday cheer and cancel their meeting. Unlikely, she snorted and rapped on the door. Within moments it was flung open and a disheveled Snape stood before her. He didn't look well; he was more sallow than usual, as if he hadn't slept or eaten in a week – which she knew wasn't the case because she had seen him do at least one of those things yesterday. He was clutching his left arm as though it were going to come off at any minute. He looked at her in surprise, like he had forgotten her very existence.
"Ah, Miss Parnell," he said slowly, "I should have notified you earlier. Our meeting is not possible today; I have some other business to take care of. I trust you will use this time to your advantage.
Charlotte rolled her eyes, always the professor. "Yeah, whatever. Hey, are you alright? You look awful!"
Snape's face curled into a sneer. "Thank you for that assessment, Miss Parnell. Rest assured I am fine. Now, if you will excuse me – ". And Charlotte was nose to nose with the wooden door again. Something was fishy. Behind that unpleasant front he had been anxious, afraid even. Anything that could frighten the redoubtable Severus Snape was serious indeed. She dropped a discrete word in the Headmaster's ear at dinner when the head of Slytherin did not appear.
But Dumbledore simply patted her on the shoulder and chuckled. "Severus is not terribly fond of this time of year. I believe he is planning to visit his parents in a few days. If you knew them, you would be concerned too." Charlotte smiled appreciatively and resumed eating, but she was not convinced. Something was definitely up, and she was going to find out what.
***
"Charlotte? Charlotte!" Someone was hissing her name.
"Wha-?" she sat up and blearily rubbed her eyes. Judging from the window, it had to be the middle of the night.
"Charlotte, wake up!" the voice said again. After a moment of staring at her bedposts she realized that it was Celeste who was calling to her.
"What? I'm awake, I'm awake!"
"You told me to let you know if I saw anything interesting."
Charlotte scrubbed her face with her hands. "And?"
"I just saw Professor McGonagall run down the hall to Madam Pomfrey's room and then they both went in the direction of the infirmary. They looked pretty serious." Charlotte threw her black Hogwarts robe over her pajamas, put on her thick soled slippers and grabbed her wand, just in case. Her striped pajama pants peeked through the folds of the robe, but she figured she was decent enough for public consumption.
"Thanks Celeste, I'll let you know what's up."
Hogwarts after hours was a far different place, dark and almost sinister. A muttered Lumos solved one problem; the other could only be alleviated by moving as fast as possible through the quiet corridors. She paused at the door of the infirmary and looked inside. There was a small knot of people clustered around a bed, among them Dumbledore, McGonagall and Pomfrey, all looking very concerned. Charlotte tried to get a look at whom or what was on the bed, but she was too far away. At that point the Headmaster turned around. He didn't look surprised to see her, although she had been doing her best to be stealthy. The old wizard motioned for her to join the group around the bed. Charlotte moved slowly, afraid of what she might find laying there. The circle parted to admit her and Charlotte had to cover her mouth to keep from crying out. It was Snape, as white as the sheets he lay on, feverish and trembling uncontrollably.
"What happened?" she whispered from behind her hands.
"Severus is suffering the lingering effects of prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus curse," Dumbledore replied. He sounded very weary.
"Is he – will he be alright?"
"I've given him something for the pain," said Poppy briskly, taking his pulse. She had removed his robes for ease of examining him, leaving him in a black short sleeve shirt and trousers. "He's been through worse, I'm confident he will pull through."
"What did this to him?" It made her sick to see her unflappable professor reduced to this state. She knew if he were conscious he would be highly perturbed to see all these people witnessing a display of weakness, however deserved, from him.
Poppy angrily pointed to his left forearm. "That did!" The image of a skull with a snake coming from its mouth was seared in black on the pale skin, like no tattoo Charlotte had ever seen.
"It is the Dark Mark," Dumbledore said, before she could ask, "Worn by all of Voldemort's followers and his means of communicating with them."
"Snape's a Death Eater?" Charlotte cried, backing up a step.
"No," Dumbledore took her firmly by the arm, "He was at one point an ally of the Dark Lord, but for many years now he has worked to fight Voldemort. Since his rise, Severus has taken on the perilous task of serving as a double agent, risking his life to bring us information on the movements of Voldemort and the Death Eaters." He looked around and said, in a far brighter tone, "Poppy has assured us of Severus' safety, let us leave her to her work. Sirius, can I offer you a cup of tea?" He led a man with long black hair out of the infirmary and the others followed suit. Charlotte remained riveted to the ground, unable to look away from the bed.
"Hurry along dear, get some rest," said Pomfrey.
"I'm not tired. Isn't there anything I can do to help? Anything?" Charlotte pleaded.
The mediwitch gave her an appraising look and finally nodded. "I usually apply a cold herbal compress to his forehead; it seems to help with the fever. I'll be just at the other end of the room, getting some Pepper-Up and chocolate ready for when he wakes up. Call for me if anything changes." Wondering how chocolate could possibly help Snape, Charlotte accepted the bowl and cloth she was handed and summoned a chair to the side of the bed. The cold water was fragrant with herbs she had read of in her herbology text, some she had even used in potions. Applying the damp cloth to Snape's hot face did seem to calm him a little. She settled into a pattern: dip, wring, forehead, cheeks, neck, repeat. She focused her mental energy on analyzing the contents of the water rather than do any serious thinking. White willow bark to break the fever, maybe passion flower for the muscle spasms. Dip, wring, repeat. Madam Pomfrey had said something, "He's been through worse." How long had he been doing this? Why did Dumbledore continue to allow him to go off to meet with Death Eaters when he came back like this? She pushed an errant strand of hair away from his forehead. Poppy said he was going to be okay, she reminded herself. The thought of Snape dying brought a sudden, unexpected lump to her throat and a prickly sensation to the backs of her eyes. She shook her head and focused on the compress. Forehead, cheeks, neck. Gradually the tremors subsided and the fever broke. Charlotte noticed that the angry dark mark had also disappeared without a trace. The sky shifted from black to purple to blue. Madam Pomfrey had brought her a cup of tea which now sat empty by her chair. At last Snape began to stir, and with a stifled groan he opened his eyes. His brows furrowed in confusion as he focused on her.
"Charlotte?" his voice was raspy and hoarse.
"Yes, it's me," she answered, taking his hand. "You're safe, you're in the Infirmary." She tried to sound reassuring, not knowing much about medicine, especially of the magical variety.
"How long-?"
"They brought you in around two in the morning, I believe. It's about eight or so now."
"Have you been here the whole time?"
Charlotte nodded. "I wanted to help," she hoped that didn't sound too lame.
"He hasn't forgotten about you." She didn't have to ask who. They had all rather hoped that Malfoy would be too distracted by other matters to still be thinking about the encounter in Queen's Lane. I am safe at Hogwarts, she told herself, and took a deep breath.
"We'll worry about that later," she said bravely. "Shall I fetch Madam Pomfrey?"
He shook his head. "I haven't the strength for the Pepper-up or her bedside manner."
"That sounds like the Professor I know," she grinned. "I'll let you rest."
His long fingers tightened around her hand. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." He made no move to withdraw his hand and she made no move to get up. Having spoken to Snape had finally reassured her that he really was going to be alright and she suddenly realized how tired she was. Once Snape had fallen asleep again, Charlotte drifted in and out of wakefulness until Poppy finally threw her out with the threat that if she didn't get some sleep, the mediwitch would confine her to a cot and make her sleep. As she was returning to her room, she passed the young Ravenclaws going down to breakfast. "Happy Christmas!" they said, waving to her. She had completely forgotten what day it was, but on entering her room she saw that someone had evidently not forgotten about her. There was a pile of presents waiting for her by the fireplace. She decided to postpone bed just a little longer. As she unwrapped the parcels she told Celeste what she had seen. Somehow, the presents from her family had found their way to her, mostly money from her parents. Not that it would do her much good right now – but maybe Snape would take her to Diagon Alley when he was feeling better. She wondered how much money one needed to get a vault at Gringott's. What do I need one of those for? She said as much to Celeste.
"Charlotte, I think you're missing something here. Being a witch isn't a thing you can just turn off. You may not have seven years at Hogwarts behind you, but you are still a witch – you will always be one, even if you go back to America and spend the rest of your life teaching at university. This doesn't end when you escape Malfoy."
Charlotte stared down at the box of chocolate frogs she had received from Professor Flitwick. She hadn't really thought about life after Hogwarts. It was true that somewhere down the line she still saw herself teaching somewhere –in a non-magical environment. Having discovered this world, she realized, she didn't want to give it up. Could she really go back to a place where magic was a fairy story? "Now is not the time to be reevaluating my career goals," she announced.
Celeste laughed, "Probably not, but you're going to have to figure it out sometime. So, finish opening your loot!" Professor Sprout gave her a painting of the Oxford Botanical Garden. A breeze seemed to be blowing in the garden, causing the plants to sway back and forth. It was easily one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen and she set it aside carefully before opening her last present, a pair of binoculars suitable for watching quidditch from Professor McGonagall. Of the faculty, only two people were absent from the gift line-up – Dumbledore and Snape. She didn't mind at all, she hadn't expected anything, in fact she was feeling rather guilty for not giving any presents, she hoped her fellow faculty members would understand. She resolved to write thank-you notes to make her mother proud – right after a desperately needed nap.
***
"Charlotte? Charlotte!"
She sprang out of bed, instantly wide awake "What is it? Has something happened?"
Celeste was laughing at her, "Relax! I was told to make sure you didn't miss the Christmas Feast. From what I've heard, Dumbledore puts on a great party." Despite her uncharitable thoughts towards portraits with skewed ideas of humor, Charlotte had to concede that Celeste was right. The Great Hall sparkled and the tables were piled high with every kind of food. Snape's usual chair at the end of the table was empty, but a word with Madam Pomfrey assured Charlotte that the Potions Master was in fact resting in his rooms. It was a wonderful feast; the food was excellent and the Christmas crackers amazing, but Charlotte's mind kept drifting elsewhere, bouncing from topic to topic, trains of thought that kept returning to the pallid figure in the infirmary.
Once the students had crammed in all the food they could hold they returned to their common rooms. Dumbledore suggested the faculty remove to the staff room for a post-dinner drink. A tea service, a crackling fire and Professor Snape were waiting for them in the lounge. Charlotte felt suddenly awkward, for reasons she couldn't quite explain. She stood lamely in the doorway until Dumbledore gently directed her to a seat in an overstuffed chair across the fire from Snape. While Minerva poured everyone tea, Dumbledore walked over to a table with a well-worn pointed hat on top of it.
"Happy Christmas to all of you," he said into the expectant silence. "I am so pleased to have so many friends around me during the holiday season. May the coming year bring us all peace." He gazed ruminatively into his cup, took a sip and then smiled. "I do have one last gift to discharge, if you all will indulge me. You are all aware of Charlotte's circumstances, I for one am most impressed with the progress she had made in the past term, no doubt due in part to Severus' fine tutoring job," he added, nodding to the potions master glowering by the fire, "Although she did not have a chance to attend a wizarding school as a child –for which I have yet to receive a satisfactory answer from Salem – I would like to make her an honorary member of her appropriate House." Applause from the faculty followed this announcement and Dumbledore approached Charlotte with the beat up hat. He placed it on top of her head and it promptly sank down over her ears. There was a noise like someone or something humming and then a voice cried "Ravenclaw!"
The headmaster took away the hat and gave her a brown paper parcel. "Happy Christmas, Charlotte, I know you will be a credit to your House," he said with a twinkle. Inside the parcel was a scarf in the Ravenclaw blue and bronze. Charlotte put it on instantly and flung her arms around Dumbledore
"Thank you so much, sir, I don't deserve this."
"Nonsense, my dear! I only wish that you could have had the chance to attend a school at the appropriate time. For all their virtues, my American counterparts are shockingly unorganized." Professor Flitwick stood on his chair to give her a whiskery kiss on the cheek. He was thrilled to have an American in his House "the first one ever, if I remember correctly," he squeaked. They agreed to get together in the New Year to talk about the history of Ravenclaw. There was only one person missing from the group congratulating her, she excused herself and went to join the dour Potions Master by the fire.
"Hey," she said, not sure what to say. She wanted to touch his hair, or take his hand as she had last night. Resolutely quashing the mental images that suddenly raced through her mind, she plowed ahead. "How are you feeling?"
It was a relief to see him look awkward for the barest moment. "I am fine, thank you." His acerbic tone was in full force, but his voice was still raspy.
Charlotte sat on the rug in front of him. He didn't tell her to leave, which she took as a positive sign. "So, what do you think?" she asked, fingering her scarf.
"It is a perfectly serviceable scarf."
She made a face, "Not that, me being a Ravenclaw – albeit an honorary one. Are you disappointed? Can we still be friends?" she asked, wondering if he thought of her as her friend.
"Disappointment is not a concern. I certainly never entertained thoughts of you being sorted into Slytherin – you possess very few of the traits we are known for. I suppose it is some relief that you are not a Gryffindor; fortunately your intelligence seems to outweigh your foolhardiness. I see no reason why you being a Ravenclaw should change anything."
Charlotte grinned. "Me neither."