Inscribed in Air & Fire
~ An HP fanfic by Snape Ophelia ~
CHAPTER 10
Annwyd woke up to the sound of knocking. The light filtering through the drapes told her it was mid-morning, and the knock was most likely Lolly or another house elf bringing breakfast. That meant she had already overslept. Still, she could not quite bring herself to get up and answer the door. Her eyelids slipped closed. I should get up, she thought. But by the time the thought had formed, she was already asleep once again.
When she woke up the second time, it was definitely late morning, probably close to noon. She was more fully awake than before, but she still felt reluctant to leave her bed. Her head ached and her mind felt oddly cloudy. Well, it was always a little cloudy in the morning, but more so today than usual. She hadn't felt especially well the day before, but in spite of spending a quiet evening indoors and going to bed early, she was as tired as if she'd been up half the night. Her eyes felt puffy and her whole body was heavy and a little sore I must be getting sick, she decided with a groan.
After staring at the ceiling for a few more minutes, she dragged herself out from under the covers. It was only then that she realized she had apparently gone to bed still wearing her favorite sweater and trousers. She hated sleeping in her clothes. I guess I must have been really out of it.
She took off the slept-in clothing and was a little surprised to see the dress she had worn to class yesterday folded in a neat square on top of her dresser. She had always been careless with her clothing, and whatever she had worn the day before was generally found strewn across the floor the next morning. And if she had been struck by a rare urge to be tidy, why hadn't she hung the dress in the wardrobe where it belonged? Odd, she thought fuzzily, and yawned.
She put on a bra and underwear, a relatively unwrinkled pair of trousers and her second-favorite sweater. Then she thought about finding something to eat for breakfast, or lunch, or whatever it was time for. Her only class on Tuesdays didn't begin until three, so she had only slept through her office hours. That, at least, was good.
She dragged a brush through the tangles in her hair and then headed out the door. If she didn't see a house elf nearby, she could always go downstairs to the kitchens and carry a meal back to her quarters herself.
Just outside her door, she almost ran into Dumbledore.
"Annwyd," said the old wizard pleasantly, "I was just coming to pay you a visit."
"Good morning, headmaster," she replied, trying to focus her still-bleary eyes on him.
"It was indeed a fine morning," he chuckled, "but it is now half an hour past noon. I was concerned when you didn't attend the staff meeting. Is everything all right, Instructor?"
Staff meeting? She groaned inwardly. She had forgotten all about it.
"I'm sorry, Professor. I only just woke up. I seem to be a little under the weather."
He fixed her with a bright blue eye. "Yes, you do look a bit peaked. Will you be up to teaching your class this afternoon?"
She had certainly intended to, but now that Dumbledore seemed to be offering her an option, the thought of finding some food and then crawling back to bed suddenly sounded very tempting.
When he saw her hesitating, Dumbledore said kindly, "Why don't you go back inside and rest. I'll have lunch sent up and I'll ask Madam Pomfrey to come round and check on you in a bit. If you're not feeling better after lunch, we'll make some arrangements for your class."
"Thank you," she said gratefully. "That's very kind of you. Hopefully it's just a bit of a cold."
After Dumbledore wished her a speedy recovery, Annwyd retreated into her room.
~*~
"Now, when did you start feeling out of sorts?" asked Madam Pomfrey. The school nurse had arrived almost immediately after Annwyd had finished lunch and had started peering at her and asking questions with few preliminaries.
"Yesterday afternoon," she replied. "Really, Madam Pomfrey, I'm sure it's nothing serious. I should really teach my afternoon class. Maybe a dose of Pepper Up Potion…."
"I'll decide about all that," said Pomfrey briskly. "Now, what symptoms did you first notice yesterday?"
Annwyd paused for a few seconds to think. "Nothing in particular. I just didn't feel very well."
The school nurse gave her a disapproving glance. "One always feels bad in some particular way, Miss Gwir. So what was it? Headache? Stomach ache? Fever? Hmmm?"
"Um, no, none of those. I don't think so."
"Well, what then?"
The truth was that, when she tried to recall the late afternoon and evening of the previous day, she was drawing a complete blank. She remembered leaving her office at around three or four o'clock. At the time, she seemed to have felt fine. A little worried about her classes maybe, but not ill. And after that—
Well, after that there was nothing. Just the knowledge that she'd felt unwell. But she hesitated to tell Pomfrey that she couldn't remember a single thing from yesterday evening. It sounded silly.
"I…I suppose I felt unusually tired. I stayed in my rooms and went to bed early. I even fell asleep with all my clothes on, which I normally never do. And I woke up feeling out of sorts. My head hurts and eyes are sore and I feel kind of achy all over. That's about it." Not terribly helpful perhaps, but better than nothing. "Just a bit of a cold I imagine."
"Do you have a sore throat? Or a cough? Sinus congestion?"
"No. Maybe I'm a little hoarse, but that's all. Mostly I just feel awfully tired. And sort of…fuzzy."
Pomfrey took out her wand.
"Well, let's just have a look then. Corpus morbus cognosco."
The wand tip took on a faint golden glow, brightening when she moved it closer to Annwyd. The nurse circled the wand around her patient's head and torso, watching the tip, which remained steady and bright. She repeated the circling motion three times with the same results. Finally, she replaced the wand in her robes, stepped closer and inspected Annwyd's face, looked in her eyes, listened to her breathing.
"Well, your color is certainly off, and your eyes look irritated, but I don't see any sign of illness or infection." Pomfrey fixed her with a look half-stern and half-sympathetic. "Been having a good cry, have we?"
"No!" said Annwyd, surprised. "Nothing like that."
"Hmmm." The nurse clearly didn't believe her. "How are your classes going?"
"Fine."
Pomfrey waited.
"The students have been a bit more trouble than usual this past week or so, but I'm sure it will be all right."
"Mm-hmm."
"Really," said Annwyd, with a touch of irritation, "it's nothing serious."
"Anything else on your mind lately? Family problems maybe? A fight with a friend?"
"No," she said firmly. Once again, Pomfrey looked doubtful. It was starting to get annoying. Couldn't the woman see she was telling the truth? There were no "family problems"—she hadn't seen her mother or Aunt Hafina in months—and, well, Professor Lupin was acting a bit strange for no clear reason, but that hardly qualified as a "fight."
The nurse gave her a look that clearly said, If you don't want to tell me, that's fine—but don't think I don't know. Annwyd probably would have been more exasperated if she didn't feel so tired.
There was a longish pause.
"Well," said Annwyd at last, "do you want to give me a dose of Pepper Up?"
"No," said the nurse in a tone that brooked no arguments. "You do not have a cold. Nerves is what it is." Annwyd started to protest but the older woman raised a hand to cut her off. "We don't have to discuss it if you choose to keep things to yourself, but the body doesn't lie. You've clearly been overwrought about something, and a Pepper Up Potion is the last thing you need. I recommend that you take the afternoon off and relax. Sleep if you feel like it. If not, do something you enjoy. Get a good night's rest tonight, and tomorrow I expect you'll feel better."
Annwyd merely nodded. The suggestion to get some rest was not one she felt inclined to argue with.
"And," added Pomfrey as she turned towards the door, "I suggest confiding in someone. Doesn't need to be me of course. But it's not good to keep too much to yourself."
Annwyd thought of repeating that there was nothing to confide, but it suddenly seemed like too much effort. And Pomfrey wasn't likely to believe her anyway.
"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey. I appreciate your concern."
"Take care of yourself then, dear. And remember what I've told you."
Annwyd nodded, fighting off yet another yawn, and the nurse left.
~ * ~
Early that evening, Annwyd was dozing in an armchair, a book of poetry open on her lap. For the last few hours, she had drifted fitfully from dull waking to light sleep. When she was awake, she tried to read, but found it hard to concentrate. As she drifted away from consciousness, the half-read poems continued in her head in Grandfather's voice. He was reading aloud to her as he often did. And that was good, of course, comfortable and cozy.
Except that, as the poems went on, she found it harder and harder to understand what Grandfather was saying. The rhythm and meter sounded vaguely familiar, but somehow she couldn't make sense of the lines. It was almost as if, without her realizing what had happened, he had started mixing in words from a foreign language, just a few at first, then more and more, until finally it was nothing more than nonsense.
Annwyd looked up at Grandfather's face, frightened that she couldn't understand him. Was he playing a game with her? Talking in nonsense words? But no, it clearly wasn't a game. His expression was serious, almost grim. She could see his face so clearly, but now even the sound of his voice was fading. His lips continued to move and his kind hazel eyes regarded her solemnly, as if imploring her to pay more attention. But finally his voice went completely soundless. There seemed to be a wall of glass between them.
Grandfather's face looked worried, the customary laugh lines rearranging into lines of tension. He was trying to tell her something important—he was even pounding on the glass now, trying to make her listen. She looked for a door, an opening, a way to get back to the sound of his voice, but there was no door in sight, only the invisible barrier.
"Grandfather!" she cried out, reaching towards him—and something sharp pressed painfully into her stomach.
For a confused second, she couldn't tell what had happened. The light was suddenly brighter and Grandfather's face had vanished. But she could still hear him pounding on the glass and could still feel something hurting her stomach. Then her head started to clear and she realized that she was curled in her faded velvet armchair, her body twisted into a tight ball, a corner of the open book jabbing her belly. It was another second or two before she realized that the pounding had started up again even though the rest of the dream had faded. Someone was knocking insistently at the door.
She stood and hurried toward the door on legs that felt stiff and uncooperative.
"I'm on my way….just a second!" She cleared her throat, which felt raspy. "Who is it?"
If whoever it was answered, she couldn't hear it. Then, just as she was reaching for the knob, she heard a familiar cool voice, barely audible through the door. "Professor Snape."
Annwyd's hand froze. For a split-second, a wave of something like panic washed through her. Her stomach dropped and her heart gave a sudden lurch. Then, just as quickly, the feeling was gone, leaving her feeling cloudy and slightly confused once again. She opened the door.
"I heard you were unwell, Instructor."
For a second, Annwyd just looked at him. If she herself looked a little off-color, Snape looked positively dreadful. His face was drawn and his skin so pale it was almost translucent. She could see the outline of veins at his temples and under his eyes. His hair looked even more lank and untidy than usual. His eyes, however, were clear and sharp as always, bottomless black.
"P-professor…" she stammered. There was a odd spinning sensation in her head and something like a flicker of movement at the edge of her field of vision, as if the shape of the world were subtly rearranging itself just beyond the reach of her awareness. She glanced around, but nothing looked abnormal and nothing was moving.
"I hope you weren't sleeping," said Snape.
Her gaze wandered back to catch his again, and all at once she found herself glad of his arrival. Whatever odd fit of nerves was playing out in her head, she felt calmer looking at his eyes. His steady gaze seemed like a safe, fixed point of reference in a world that had gone fuzzy and unpredictable at the edges.
"I…no…well, actually, yes I was. But I'm glad you knocked…I was dreaming something…" she trailed off. "Please, come in."
She backed up and opened the door wider. He hesitated briefly, then acknowledged the invitation with a slight bow of the head and stepped inside.
Annwyd returned to the sitting room, gesturing him to follow. She had no idea what the purpose of his visit might be, but it seemed very desirable that he should sit down and stay for a while. In a small part of her brain, this struck her as slightly odd. She wouldn't have expected that Snape would be a welcome visitor when one was feeling ill and out of sorts. In fact, she could clearly remember an occasion in his class when another girl, a fellow Ravenclaw, had asked to leave early to visit the nurse. Snape had eventually given the girl permission, but only after a series of derogatory comments that made an onset of stomach flu sound like a personal moral failure and a disgrace to her entire house as well. For an instant Annwyd wondered if the Potions Master had stopped by to upbraid her for missing her afternoon class. But the thought carried little weight. She was happy—oddly relieved—that Snape was there.
She settled herself into one of the comfortable armchairs and watched as Snape sat down, a bit stiffly, in the other. Always so formal, she thought as her eyes followed his movements. She had found this off-putting in the past, but at the moment it seemed rather comforting.
"Professor…I…" as she started to speak, she noticed that he was observing her intently in return, and she lost the gist of whatever she'd meant to say. She ran a hand through her hair, which she realized was still tangled from her fitful nap, and surreptitiously tried to smooth it out.
Snape continued to watch her in silence, apparently waiting for her to speak first. After a pause, Annwyd said, "I'm sorry if I seem a little disoriented. I was dreaming something when I heard you knock…."
"Nightmares, Miss Gwir?" His voice sounded cool, as it normally did, but tinged with an undertone of concern.
"Well, yes, it was sort of unpleasant." Snape arched an eyebrow and waited expectantly, as if the content of her dreams was something of particular interest. This also might have seemed a bit odd if she'd felt inclined to consider it. She didn't, however, feel so inclined. "It was something about my Grandfather. I can't remember exactly…. It seemed frightening, but now I'm not sure why."
She felt a tiny bit foolish discussing a nightmare with Snape and half expected him to scoff at such nonsense. But instead he nodded thoughtfully and leaned back in the chair, relaxing slightly. Apparently, he wasn't annoyed after all.
"Madam Pomfrey mentioned that you were ill. No doubt that accounts for your sleep being disturbed."
"I suppose so."
"Our esteemed nurse believed you might require a sleeping draught, and she came to me to replenish her supply. Since Pomfrey appeared busy, I offered to bring it to you myself." He removed a small glass vial from his pocket and rolled it between his long fingers, then his gaze returned to Annwyd's face. "It sounds as though a dose of Dreamless Sleep is indeed in order." He seemed to be scrutinizing her even more carefully than the nurse had done. "I hope your indisposition is nothing serious."
Annwyd flushed, feeling suddenly touched by his concern. It was really awfully thoughtful of him to check on her, especially when he looked more than a little ill himself. Busy or not, Pomfrey would have delivered the potion. Snape had clearly made an excuse to visit her. The thought caused a bubble of warmth to expand in Annwyd's chest. The Potions Master might be cold and irritable most of the time, but really he was nice…. Well, maybe not nice exactly. But nonetheless, someone she could rely on.
"I'm sure it's nothing serious." Annwyd smiled at him. She could feel the warmth in her chest creeping into her voice. "Pomfrey told me it was 'nerves,' whatever that's supposed to mean. But really I think it's just a touch of a cold."
"Very well, Instructor," said Snape. "I will give you this and leave you to your rest then. Unless there's anything else that you require."
Annwyd was vaguely distressed at the thought of his leaving. "Yes, actually there is," she said, before he could rise from the chair. She tried to think of an excuse to ask him to stay, then blurted out the first thing that came to her. "Maybe you could tell me what this mysterious talk is about. The one I asked you about yesterday afternoon…."
She trailed off, momentarily distracted as her thoughts reached back to the previous day. Yes, she could clearly recall the brief conversation in his office. It was one of the last things to stick in her memory before the afternoon and evening faded into a strange haze. She shook her head, wondering if Madam Pomfrey had been right. Maybe there was something wrong with her other than a cold.
"Miss Gwir, I would prefer to discuss that particular matter after you are feeling well again." Today's refusal was not nearly as curt and sharp as yesterday's, but his voice was nonetheless firm.
"Really though, Professor," Annwyd persisted, "if you don't tell me, I'm only going to worry." She paused, shaking off her thoughts of the strange memory lapse to better concentrate on the topic at hand. "Am I—am I in trouble for some reason? Have I done something wrong with my classes?"
Snape gave her a long measuring look. He took a breath and his expression softened slightly. "I do not intend to berate you for your teaching skills, Instructor. Nor have you, to my knowledge, committed any infraction of Hogwarts rules."
"Ah. Well, that's a relief." Annwyd ventured a small smile, which was not returned. "So why not just tell me? It can't be that bad, can it?"
Snape scowled in a way that was not exactly reassuring. "Miss Gwir," he said finally, "do you recall our meeting with Dumbledore on the day after your arrival at Hogwarts? The headmaster, if I remember correctly, informed you that Lord Voldemort has returned. And that your particular skills might be useful in the fight against him. That is, roughly, the matter I wish to discuss. Beyond that, I insist that we wait until you are well."
Annwyd nodded in acquiescence to his last comment. At the moment, she could think of nothing to say in any case. Truthfully, as the term had progressed, the headmaster's dire words concerning the Dark Lord had been far from the forefront of her mind. It was not that she doubted what Dumbledore had told her. If he said that Voldemort had returned to power, she supposed it must be true. But it was hard to imagine that it really had anything to do with her. Other concerns had seemed far more pressing.
While she was musing on this, Snape had gotten to his feet. "This vial contains two doses of Dreamless Sleep. I suggest you take half of it tonight and the other half tomorrow night, if needed. We will discuss…the other matter…soon enough."
He stepped towards her, the potion in his hand Looking up at him, Annwyd found that she was far less worried about the impending conversation than she might have expected. Catching his dark eyes, she held his gaze for several seconds. His look was not warm, but it was clear and determined and steady. In spite of his obvious exhaustion at the moment and the unhealthy pallor of his skin, she couldn't shake the feeling that Professor Snape was someone she could count on. Yes, she concluded, whatever the details of their talk turned out to be, everything was going to be all right.
"It was kind of you to visit me," she murmured, still looking into his eyes.
Snape blinked and looked away for an instant. When his gaze returned to hers, his eyes had narrowed and his mouth had twisted into another scowl, as if she had just accused him of some thoroughly reprehensible vice.
"It was not kind, Miss Gwir. I am merely attending to my duties."
Annwyd suppressed a smile at the this reaction as she reached to take the vial that he was offering. It seemed so utterly like him to resist any effort at appreciation. And impulsively, before he could draw his hand out of reach, she suddenly clasped his fingers in hers and held them.
"Thank you."
Snape's eyes widened and his hand felt tense in hers, but he didn't jerk away as she half-expected. And when, several heartbeats later, his disentangled his fingers from her grip, he did so surprisingly gently.
"Sleep well, Instructor. I trust that tomorrow will find you much recovered."
And then he was striding out of the room in a swirl of black robes, leaving her with the sleeping potion in one hand and the warmth of his fingers still tingling through the other.
Before he could reach the door leading out to the hall, however, Annwyd rose to follow him.
"Severus—"
She couldn't say why his given name, which she had never used before, suddenly came quite easily to her lips. But somehow it seemed natural. She found that liked the sound of it.
He paused for a second, then turned with that oddly formal grace she was growing accustomed to. If he was surprised by her manner of addressing him, he didn't show it.
"Yes, Instructor?"
"Perhaps you should take a dose of that sleeping draught yourself. You look…well, you look as if you could use it."
He allowed himself a small sigh and, for the first time, a little of the weariness lining his face crept into eyes as well. He works too hard, thought Annwyd. He doesn't take care of himself. The thought made her unaccountably sad.
Snape nodded rather curtly, but his voice remained mild. "Thank you, Miss Gwir. I will consider your advice."
Just as he was closing the door behind him, leaving the room feeling rather empty, Annwyd heard a high-pitched female voice from down the hall.
"Excuse me, Sir. Could I trouble you to assist me?"
Annwyd's head jerked up. She knew that voice. Falsely bright and cheerful on the surface, a bit cold and brittle underneath.
But it wasn't…was it?
Snape murmured something indistinct outside the door.
"I'm trying to find the quarters of one of the teachers, Miss Annwyd Gwir, but I'm sure that those miserable house elves have misdirected me." The voice was louder and closer now, and was followed by a sugary little laugh.
This time there could be no mistake. It was her.
Snape's response was just loud enough to be audible. "I'm afraid Miss Gwir is rather indisposed at the moment, Madam. Perhaps someone else can help you with something."
"Indisposed? Nonsense, Sir. She can hardly be too indisposed to see me." The surface sweetness faded from the voice, leaving the hard edge. "Now kindly tell me where I can find her quarters."
What on earth is she doing here? wondered Annwyd as the conversation continued in the corridor.
"Perhaps, Madam, you should tell me the nature of your business."
"My business, as I have told you, Sir, is to locate Annwyd Gwir."
Reluctantly, Annwyd advanced to the door and pulled it open. Snape was standing immediately outside, arms crossed, blocking the door. Rather protectively, she thought, with a touch of warmth. He seemed to be engaged in a staring contest with a witch wearing elaborate lavender robes of crushed velvet. A silver fur-lined cloak was draped prettily over her arm and the sweet smell of perfume filled the hallway. The woman's hair, a brighter red than Annwyd's, was caught up in a flattering French twist held by a jeweled clip. Her eyes, clear and hard as cut emeralds, were locked on Snape's. She didn't seem to notice that the door had opened.
The two people facing each other outside Annwyd's rooms were clearly unaccustomed to having their best icy stares returned so boldly, and the clash of energies in the hall was palpable. Annwyd was almost tempted to stay silent and observe the spectacle, waiting to see who would blink first. However, given the set of Professor Snape's shoulders and the jut of the woman's chin, she supposed that might take a long time. Instead, she pointedly cleared her throat.
Both staring figures turned to face her. Taking a deep breath, Annwyd nodded a brief acknowledgement to Snape. Then her gaze went to the emerald-eyed, lavender-clad witch. Unlike Snape, Annwyd didn't return the woman's stare for very long. Her eyes found the floor rather quickly.
Though she didn't see it, Annwyd could sense the look of petty triumph that the woman now flashed in Snape's direction. When she spoke though, her tones were sweet and bright once again.
"Annwyd, darling—I thought I'd never find you!"
Annwyd twisted a lock of tangled hair around her fingers. She forced a nervous smile and raised her eyes.
"What a nice surprise, Mother. I didn't expect you."
Annwyd's mother swooped forward immediately, pulled her into a feather-light embrace and kissed the air at each side of her face.
"I've missed you, Annwyd!" she exclaimed breathily. "It's been far too long. And," she added in the same bright tone, "you must introduce me properly to your colleague. He's been so helpful."
Snape looked more than ready to make his exit, but Annwyd mumbled a brief introduction. "Er, yes, Mother. This is Professor Snape, the Potions Master."
"Charmed, I'm sure, Mrs. Gwir," said Snape in his driest voice.
"No, darling," Mother laughed, patting his arm, which produced an undisguised flinch and grimace. "I haven't been 'Mrs. Gwir' for years now. But apparently my daughter doesn't bother to talk about me"—she interjected a melodramatic sigh—"or you'd know that it's Mrs. Whistbury now. But you may call me Amanda."
Snape looked more likely to cough up a live newt than to call her 'Amanda,' but Mother pretended not to notice. As long as she was getting her own way, Mother was a great adherent of the social niceties.
"And you must be Severus Snape," she continued. "I know your third cousin, Selina. And I'm sure that Mr. Malfoy has mentioned you as well. Or was it Mr. Crouch? No, no, I do believe it was Lucius."
Annwyd was about to interrupt before Mother could do any further name-dropping, but Snape beat her to it. "Indeed," he said, his voice now positively icy. "And no doubt you may convey my regards to all my long-lost relatives and acquaintances. But now, if you will excuse me, I have work to do." Snape nodded to Annwyd, gave the smallest possible jerk of his head in Mother's direction, and swept down the hall and around the corner.
"Well, well. So that's Severus Snape," said Mother loudly and cheerfully, not waiting until he was safely out of earshot. "He appears to be just as unpleasant as everyone says."
"Please come inside," said Annwyd quickly, taking her arm and steering her through the doorway before Snape could return or anyone else could happen by.
~ * ~
An hour or so later, Annwyd's mother was perched regally in the same armchair Professor Snape had occupied earlier. Annwyd was curled in her own favorite chair. Over her mother's shoulder, she could see Lolly clearing the remains of dinner from the table in the next room. There was a sound of breaking crockery and a stream of squeaky apologies when one of the plates slid off the tray and onto the floor.
Annwyd ignored her mother's look of disgust and hastily called out her reassurances. "Don't worry about it, Lolly. It's only a plate. It's all right. Really."
Lolly could hardly be blamed for dropping something, thought Annwyd. Mother had practically driven the house elf to tears during the meal, complaining about the cleanliness of the silver, the quality of the food, the temperature of the tea, and everything else imaginable. Lolly had run back and forth to the kitchens a dozen times trying to make everything acceptable, and by now the elf was trembling with anxiety.
"You wouldn't be saying 'it's only a plate' if you were buying the crockery," said Mother. "I swear, those awful elves of mine break a dish a day. They do it on purpose you know, just to see if they can get by with it."
"If it's such a problem," suggested Annwyd, "couldn't you do Reparo on the dishes?" Her own use of the simple repairing spell was iffy at best, but Mother could perform it perfectly well.
"Well, yes, dear. But it's the principle. They're supposed to be saving us work, not causing us more of it."
In the next room, Lolly had gathered up the bits of crockery and she hastily left the room, bowing and still squeaking apologies under her breath. Annwyd silently vowed she would never snap at the elf again.
A second later it occurred to her that this was a strange thought. When had she ever snapped at Lolly? She tried to concentrate and felt a strange splitting, something like a mental version of double-vision. She felt a distinct twinge of guilt for being unkind to the house elf, while, at the same time, she was certain that she couldn't remember doing any such thing.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden sharpness in Mother's voice.
"You haven't heard a word I've said, have you?"
"No—I mean yes, I was listening. The house elves. Breaking dishes. On purpose."
Mother sighed. "I can't imagine how you manage to teach a class, Annwyd. You can't stop daydreaming long enough to follow a conversation. How do you ever remember a whole lecture?"
"I seem to be doing well enough."
"I was saying, darling, that you must attend this party. You simply must."
"This party…?"
"The party that Jeffrey and I are throwing for Mr. Kernhopper." She gave another martyred sigh to show the trials of not being properly listened to. "As I just told you, Ptolemy Kernhopper has just been promoted to the head of the Office of Misinformation and we're going to have the most marvelous party to celebrate."
Annwyd wondered if she was expected to know who Ptolemy Kernhopper was.
"It's one of the most important jobs in the DRCMC, so naturally we're all very happy for him."
"The D-R-C-M-what?" asked Annwyd.
"The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. You do know what that is, I hope."
"Yes, of course I do," said Annwyd, a little defensively. "I just never heard it called by its initials."
"All of the Ministry people call it that. It's just too much of a mouthful otherwise, don't you think?"
"Yes, I suppose so," said Annwyd neutrally. I will not be embarrassed or feel inadequate for not hob-nobbing with the Ministry, she told herself, especially since everyone at Hogwarts thinks they're a bunch of incompetent idiots.
"If it wasn't for the Office of Misinformation," said Mother, "we'd never keep the Muggles from finding out about dragons and such. So it's really a great honor for Mr. Kernhopper. He'll be the youngest head of that office ever."
"Well, yes. That sounds, um, very nice for him."
"Yes, but the point is that everyone who's anyone will be there. So you must come and meet all my friends."
Annwyd briefly considered pointing out that Mother had spent the past several years carefully letting "everyone who's anyone" believe that she didn't have a daughter. But baiting Mother was never worth the effort. And apparently, now that she was employed as a teacher at Hogwarts, Annwyd was acceptable enough to be reintroduced into Mother's world.
"I'll come if I can work it into my schedule," she said instead.
"Rubbish," said her mother. "How busy can your schedule be? You don't teach night classes, do you?"
"Well, no—" Annwyd admitted.
"Then it's settled. I'll expect you. And don't worry, I'll find you a suitable escort."
"Really, Mother, thank you, but I don't need an escort."
"Of course you do, darling. It's a formal party—you can't arrive alone! I'll find someone charming, I'm sure."
"If I must go with someone," said Annwyd, "I'd rather not be stuck with a stranger." The gods only knew what kind of awful wizard Mother would pick. "I'll just invite someone I know, all right?"
"Oh!" There was a sudden squeal of interest. "You're seeing someone! Who is it? Do I know him? You must tell me!"
"No, Mother," Annwyd sighed, feeling weary. "I'm not seeing anyone. But I do have a friend I could ask."
"Ah." The interest faded to disappointment. "Well, I hope it's not that Snape fellow I saw coming out of your quarters. I mean, the Snapes are a fine family and his cousin Selina is lovely, but he seems a little lacking in the social graces, don't you think?"
Annwyd found it hard to imagine inviting Snape to a party, particularly one of Mother's parties. And certainly not after he'd met Mother.
"No, I was thinking of Professor Lupin. I doubt you've met him." She was pretty sure that Lupin's social circle was far from Mother's.
"You don't mean…." Mother paused and sniffed delicately. "You don't mean Remus Lupin, do you?"
"You know him?" asked Annwyd with surprise.
"No, of course not!" She sounded unaccountably offended. "But I certainly know of him, and you absolutely may not invite him."
Annwyd was rather taken aback. "Why not?"
"Annwyd, darling, it may have been awhile since I attended Hogwarts myself, but don't think I don't keep up to date on the latest. I know all about your Professor Lupin, and really, I must say I'm shocked to hear you even consider it. How would it look? No, no. That won't do at all."
Annwyd could not for the life of her think why the idea would be so shocking. Was Lupin a Muggle-born wizard then? Had Mother become that narrow-minded? Or was it just because he was poor?
"You just leave it to me, Annwyd. I'll find someone to take you and you'll have a lovely time. I promise."
Annwyd wondered if Mother realized how she made "you'll have a lovely time" sound like a mortal threat.
"So all that's left," Mother went on, "is to talk about your clothes."
Annwyd felt exhausted and she was hoping the visit would end soon. Then she could swallow the Dreamless Sleep potion and go to bed.
"I believe I can manage to find something to wear. And I'm sorry I can't visit with you longer, but the truth is, I'm not feeling well. I really think I ought to call it an evening."
"Well, dear," Mother sniffed sadly, "I wouldn't want to trouble you with my presence. But really, we ought to discuss your outfit. Because here's the thing—everyone's going to be dressing as Muggles! Won't that be fun?"
"Muggles? Why?" said Annwyd, her face blank. As far as she knew, the high-society of wizardry never dressed in Muggle clothing if they could help it.
"It was my idea, actually. It's sort of a joke, you see. Ptolemy Kernhopper always swore that he'd never take a job that had anything to do with the Muggle world. But then of course when they offered to make him the head of the Office, he said yes quicker than a Snitch. So I thought we'd tease him a little by all dressing as Muggles at the party. Isn't that funny?"
"Um, yeah," Annwyd said doubtfully.
Mother was clearly disappointed that Annwyd didn't applaud her delightful cleverness in concocting this novelty.
"Even Lucius Malfoy thinks it's a good idea," she added with a touch of defensiveness. "At first he thought it sounded rather tasteless, but I've convinced him it will be ever-so-amusing. And my dressmaker wasn't keen on it either at first, but now she's practically in a tizzy—studying Muggle styles and taking orders left and right. So I'm sure she can make you something dazzling."
"But I already have clothes that can pass for Muggle," said Annwyd. Other than the robes she'd purchased at Diagon Alley, all of her clothing came from the years when she'd lived with Grandfather. All of it was intentionally nondescript and simple so it could be worn in the local village without raising eyebrows.
"Yes, no doubt, dear" said Mother, eyeing Annwyd's sweater and trousers with disdain. "But we'll be dressing as fashionable Muggles. Wealthy Muggles. No one will be impersonating the local peasantry."
More and more, this whole thing was sounding like a nightmare. Annwyd found herself wishing she had never opened the door when she heard her mother's voice in the hallway. But at this point, she was too tired to argue. She nodded wearily.
"Very good then. I'll have Belinda send you the dress when it's finished and I'll let you know as soon as I've found you an escort." Mother took an envelope and a small, cloth-wrapped package from her pocket and laid both neatly on the end table. "Here's your formal invitation and your Portkey. I figured with the Portkey, no one needs to know"—she lowered her voice to a near-whisper—"that you can't Apparate."
"Thank you, Mother," said Annwyd dryly. "That's very considerate of you."
Annwyd got up and, thankfully, her mother did the same. She walked her to the door, grateful that the visit was almost over.
"One more thing, darling," said Mother as they crossed the room. "You won't use those silly glamours at the party, will you?"
Tired or not, Annwyd was finally losing patience. "Do your friends know that I teach Glamours at Hogwarts? Or is that supposed to be a secret too?"
"Now, dear, there's no need to get snippy. Yes, of course they know what you teach. And mostly they're all gracious enough to think it quaint and charming. But that doesn't mean you have to push it right under their noses, does it?"
"Good night, Mother," Annwyd said firmly.
Her mother gave her a last appraising look. "You know, Annwyd, maybe I was wrong about that last part."
Annwyd glanced over at her in shock. She couldn't remember Mother apologizing for something she'd said. Ever.
"I would appreciate it if you wouldn't make a fuss about your glamours at the party, but if you wanted to do a little…you know…" Mother's hand wiggled in the air in a clumsy imitation of the casting motion. Then the hand dropped to hide itself in the folds of her robe as if it were embarrassed by its actions. "If you wanted to do one of your tricks to perk yourself up a bit"—she gestured with her other hand at Annwyd's face and hair—"that might not be such a bad idea. Because, really, my dear, you do look dreadful."
She gave her daughter a wave and kissed at the air in her vicinity, then flounced through the door in a swish of lavender velvet.
Annwyd stood stiffly in the doorway and watched her go. For a second she bit her lip in indecision. Then, before the velvet-clad back had disappeared from sight, Annwyd sketched a pattern in the air and closed the door.
That was childish, she told herself. Very, very childish.
Nonetheless, she felt better than she had since Mother's arrival. And it didn't hurt anything, did it? Not really.
She found the vial of sleeping potion and swallowed half of it, then undressed, leaving a trail of clothes across the floor. As Annwyd climbed into bed at last, she wondered how long the glamour she'd cast would last. The illusion was small and simple, so it might be good for a full three days, or even four. Mother would never notice it herself. But for the next few days, everyone else who encountered Amanda Whistbury would be convinced that her face was dotted with large and conspicuous warts.
Contemplating that happy thought, Annwyd fell asleep.