AN: Just a few loose ends to tie off, but many more left hanging, I fear. I hope to get back to you all!
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19. The Snape-Potter-Longbottom Trempath
Harry was familiar enough with the aftereffects of the Trempath to know that he would probably be reliving Frank's moment of excruciating triumph all night long. But it was worth it. He was sick of the hospital wing, so he took an ice pack to his dorm and hoped he wouldn't wake his roommates more than three times. He still had the leftover hellebore, and he swigged it down gratefully.
The next thing he knew, it was broad daylight. When he swept his curtain aside, everyone else was gone except Neville, who was standing by Harry's bed.
"What time is it? What are you doing here?"
"Don't worry, Harry," said Neville. "I came back early this morning. You were still asleep, so I went to Professor McGonagall to see if I could get you excused from morning classes. She wanted to know why you hadn't gone to Madam Pomfrey if you weren't feeling well, and I ended up telling her the whole story. Well, not all the details, jus the general idea. You should have seen her face, Harry. She looked even happier then when we won the Quidditch Cup, and she told me to let you sleep as long as you wanted."
"Thanks, Neville," said Harry. "I owe you one."
"Don't be silly, Harry. Professor Dumbledore wants to see you as soon as you've had breakfast. I brought some up for you. Bacon and eggs. It's in the common room."
Now that Harry thought of it, he was hungry. But first, he needed a wash. When he was dressed he went downstairs to meet Neville in the common room. He was surprised at how well he felt as he attacked his breakfast. It might have been the day after a tough Quidditch match, but nothing more strenuous than that. Before long Harry and Neville were climbing the spiral staircase to Dumbledore's office. When they went in, they found Lucretia Longbottom already there, as well as Octavius and Severus Snape, Ivy, and Salazara, who had wound herself around Ivy's left arm and shoulder.
Dumbledore rose from behind his desk to greet them, his blue eyes blazing with joy. "Harry, I've seen the Longbottoms. The difference is astounding. I can't even begin to express my thanks."
"But sir," Harry demurred for the second time, "I didn't do it. It was Salazara."
"But she couldn't have done it without you, young Harry," Lucretia reminded him.
"Yes, Octavius, Neville, and Lucretia have given me a detailed report, and it was clearly a team effort. Your part was vital, Harry." There weren't enough seats for all of them, so Dumbledore conjured a couple of extra ones, and Harry and Neville sat down. "As for you, Severus," the Headmaster continued, also seating himself, "I will personally make certain that your role in the Longbottoms' recovery receives the long-delayed recognition it deserves."
"Thank you, Albus," said Professor Snape stiffly, trying not to look too eager.
"Now, Octavius, although I owe you a debt of gratitude as well, I am not entirely satisfied with your conduct," Dumbledore said, turning to Ivy's father.
Octavius lifted his eyebrows. "Perhaps I overstepped myself in the way I chose to dispose of Lucius Malfoy and his accomplices …?"
Dumbledore waved that away. "No, no, spending time in a painting won't do them any harm. Quite the reverse if anything." He leaned back in his chair and stroked his beard pensively. "No, there's something else that concerns me. Octavius, how could you have been so careless as to mention your research on the Dementor's kiss in Aurelle's hearing?"
Before Octavius could reply, Ivy spoke up. "It wasn't Father who brought up the subject, Professor Dumbledore. I did."
"I see. But how did you find out about it from him, Ivy? Was he negligent or merely lacking in judgment?" asked Dumbledore coldly.
"He wasn't careless, sir!" Ivy defended her father fiercely. "I just had to find out what he was doing that made him look so sober and eat all that chocolate. I asked him, but he wouldn't tell me, and I … I …" She hesitated.
"You read my research notes, didn't you, Ivy?"
"Yes, Father," said Ivy. "I'm sorry, but I had to. You didn't actually tell me not to. You just said they were very private and anyone who read them would suffer dire consequences…"
"Quite," he sighed.
"Octavius, you're perfectly capable of making your notes completely secure," Dumbledore remonstrated.
"That's not what I do, Albus. What I did was to make sure that they would be read only by those who were meant to read them."
Dumbledore shook his head. "How you make that discrimination is beyond me, Octavius."
Octavius looked surprised. "I don't make it. The method itself sifts out the idly curious."
"I am familiar with some of Octavius' devices," interposed Professor Snape. "Ivy must have shown great determination and ingenuity to circumvent them."
"Surely they wouldn't have been biased in her favour," Dumbledore demurred.
"It was all meant to happen," said Ivy. "Don't you see? It wasn't anyone's fault. Father tried to prevent Aurelle from seeing Crouch's face in the mirror. But I took the mirror from his hand and gave it to her. You can't cheat destiny." She stroked Salazara's middle head as she said this.
"But there are those who bend destiny to their will." The headmaster looked as stern as Harry had ever seen him. Ivy met his piercing stare. "Am I to understand, Ivy," he questioned her, "that if Aurelle Longbottom loses her life for the sake of young Crouch, you too would hold yourself responsible for helping to bring it about?'
"Yes, sir," Ivy whispered, very white. She swallowed hard.
"I gave Aurelle the Marauder's Map," Harry tossed in for good measure, feeling entitled to his share of whatever blame was going around.
"Do you suppose I want to lose Aurelle when we've just got her back, Albus?" Octavius demanded. "Remember, I still haven't given the go-ahead for this."
"I know, but Aurelle is so persistent and single-minded. She'll give us no peace until the thing is done," said Dumbledore.
"Maybe that's not a bad thing," said Octavius.
"You would consider letting Aurelle Longbottom do what you are afraid to do yourself, Octavius?" asked Dumbledore ominously. "You would permit her to be a guinea pig for your experiment, when you don't have the nerve to sacrifice yourself first?"
"That is correct, Albus."
"Even feeling as you do about Aurelle?"
Octavius' eyes turned cold and flat. "My feelings for Aurelle Longbottom are not open for discussion."
"Professor Dumbledore," said Ivy in a shaking voice, "when Father told me about what happened to Granny, I begged him not to—I'm not as generous as Neville."
Neville went scarlet with embarrassment. "Don't, Ivy," he pleaded with her. He turned to Professor Dumbledore. "Sir, I don't see how you can let Ivy and her father take all the blame for what my Mum is planning," he said indignantly. "It's her decision. And especially when if it hadn't been for them breaking a few rules, I don't see how things could possibly have turned out the way they were supposed to, and Mum would still be unconscious, and Dad ... You know what I mean," he ended in confusion.
"I know exactly what you mean," said Harry, who had been thinking the same sort of thing himself.
"Young Mr. Longbottom is quite right," agreed Professor Snape, and Lucretia gave him a grateful look.
Professor Dumbledore picked up a paperweight from his desk, a glassy globe with a tiny apple tree in full summer leaf inside it. He turned it over once, the apples swelled, reddened, and dropped, and the leaves yellowed and fell; a second time, and snow came down and coated the bare branches; a third time, and flowers budded and bloomed; a fourth time, and the blossoms scattered and the leaves returned.
"I don't blame Ivy and Octavius, Neville," said Dumbledore gently, setting the paperweight down again.
"You don't?" Neville asked, justifiably puzzled.
"Not at all. I am filled with admiration for them."
"You've been testing them, sir," Harry discovered.
"Not only them. Myself as well," said Dumbledore. "I have from time to time condoned a certain amount of rule-breaking among my students, when it seemed wise to do so." Harry caught the merest suggestion of a wink aimed in his direction.
"Indeed," grunted Professor Snape.
"It never hurts to re-examine that policy, and it is often easier to search for flaws in it when it is practiced by someone else. Practiced, in this case, with such energy and devotion." Dumbledore was smiling now. "As you say, Neville. What would have become of your parents if Octavius had not sent Ivy to school with Salazara? If he had not colluded in the escape of young Crouch from Azkaban? If Ivy had not stolen Harry's wand, and convinced Draco Malfoy that he had broken it? If she had not brought Salazara with her to St. Mungo's? All in clear violation of longstanding rules."
Neville seemed to think Dumbledore expected an answer. "I—I don't know, sir."
"Precisely, Neville. We never know what would have happened as a result of different choices. Perhaps another way of helping your parents would have appeared."
"So what you are driving at in your usual roundabout way, Albus," Lucretia summed up, "is some point about breaking rules for the right reasons and taking the consequences."
"Even the really, really serious ones," added Neville.
Dumbledore spread his hands. "I don't know why I bother pontificating, when so many others do it better than I."
"But not just for the right reasons," Harry pondered. "There's such a thing as knowing what you're doing. Some people just seem to know things without being told." He looked over at Ivy and Octavius. Ivy looked smug. "And some have Runespoors to help them," Harry couldn't help adding.
"Nobody taught you to speak Parseltongue, either, Harry," Ivy returned pleasantly. She didn't stick out her tongue at him, but Salazara's right head made up for it.
"Much of that insight owes to the Lefay blood in the Snape line. The Lefays have been seers for time out of mind." Dumbledore paused and began turning the paperweight again. "I think of Iris often. I miss her independence of thought. She and I understood each other well."
"You know she was unjustly accused, don't you, Albus," growled Professor Snape in a voice that allowed no disagreement.
"I have known for years, Severus," said Dumbledore. "You have not allowed me to forget it."
"I saw Mother not long ago," said Octavius. "The spark of mirror-life is still there; it may not be too late to save her. I've been watching for a chance to take one of the Kissed into a painting to see what would happen. Young Crouch was the guinea pig for that test."
"An eminently suitable choice," Dumbledore approved.
"The success of that trial gives me hope that I have bought some time for Barty and Aurelle," Octavius went on. "And now I am determined to do the same for Mother."
"And for yourself, Octavius?" Dumbledore probed.
"I don't know yet," Octavius said, as he had to Ivy the day before.
"You don't know?" repeated Dumbledore.
"He doesn't know if he's the right person," Ivy explained. "I've talked to Salazara about it, but she's being her usual cryptic self."
"Ah, the right person," Dumbledore nodded. "I see." He gave Octavius a searching look. "Well, since you are the one writing the book on reversing the Dementor's Kiss, I suppose we'll have to leave it at that."
"If you don't trust Octavius to act with honour in this matter, perhaps I should resign my teaching post here at Hogwarts," threatened Professor Snape, looking thoroughly put out.
"That's quite unnecessary, Severus," said Octavius, laying a hand on his brother's arm. "I suspect that in this case the question is not one of trust, but of philosophical differences between Albus and me, even though we manage to agree about rule-breaking."
"Quite right, Octavius, but we won't go further into that now," said Dumbledore, putting the paperweight down with the tree in full bloom. "I spoke with bitterness because Aurelle is dear to me, too, and yet you haven't taken offence. And where Iris is concerned, you'll have all the help I can give you."
"Thank you, Albus," said Octavius. "That is all I could ask."
"Now," said Dumbledore, closing that subject and turning to another, "I have a message from Frank Longbottom for Harry and Severus. He would very much like to see both of you one more time, as soon as possible. Today, if we can spare you. I told him I thought we could manage it."
"Do you know why he wants to see us, sir?" asked Harry.
"Oh, don't worry, Harry, the hard part of your job is finished. I believe Frank has a pleasant surprise for each of you." Dumbledore's eyes crinkled in a smile. "As soon as classes are over this afternoon, get yourselves over to St. Mungo's without delay."
"If you're certain that it's absolutely necessary,"sniffed Professor Snape, as if he didn't relish the prospect.
"Believe me, it is," Dumbledore assured him. "I won't hear of your begging off. Neville will be going too, and he can make sure you don't forget. Now, I believe it is time for lunch, so I will excuse you all. Lucretia, Octavius, you're welcome to join us for it. Off you go, then."
When Harry and Neville went down to the Great Hall, Professor McGonagall caught sight of Harry and came over to him, smiling all over her face. "Mr. Potter, congratulations—Longbottom told me all about it—we're all very much in your debt." She wiped away a tear. "Yours too, Miss Parkinson," she added as Ivy appeared, having dropped off her Runespoor beforehand. "Though if I had known what you were up to …" She shook her head, still smiling.
"Ron and Hermione helped too," Harry reminded her, as they came up behind him. "Yeah, we did," said Ron. "But Harry spent the most time in the trenches. And say, Professor, you should have seen Neville. He was amazing."
"I'm not a bit surprised," said Professor McGonagall. "Although he didn't mention that part." Neville blushed again.
As they sat down at the Gryffindor table, Hermione asked, "So Harry and Neville, what did Professor Dumbldore say when you and Ivy went to see him this morning?"
"Lots of things," said Neville. "Some of them not very nice."
"He came down pretty hard on Mr. Snape," said Harry, who found that he was hungry again despite the lateness of his breakfast.
"No kidding," said Ron, helping himself to sausage and mashed turnips. His face was clean-shaven again; in fact, it looked as if he had actually shaved, and not very skillfully.
"Ivy too," said Neville. "He said he didn't really mean it but I think he couldn't help it. He wasn't a bit happy about my Mum and Mr. Crouch."
"Can we hear all about it at Hagrid's this afternoon?" Ron asked hopefully.
"It'll have to be tomorrow, Ron," said Harry. "Professor Snape and I have to go and see Frank again today. He asked us to come."
"What for?" Ron wanted to know.
"No idea," Harry shrugged.
When they arrived at St. Mungo's, Neville stayed out in the waiting area while Harry and Professor Snape went into the room where Neville's parents, their beds pushed together, were lying hand in hand.
"Harry. Severus. Thank you for coming," Frank greeted them.
"We know it's a great deal to ask of you after all you've done," said Aurelle, "but it's fortunate that you're here, because Dr. Leech is going to break the link between Frank and his Trempath so that another patient can use it."
"And then will you be going home?" Harry asked.
"No, they won't let us out of here for weeks and weeks," said Frank.
"They say we still have a lot of recovery ahead of us," added Aurelle. "We'll probably be seeing Madam Nightingale several times."
"I expect she's got her hands full right now with her three new group members," said Harry.
"Dr. Leech won't let me talk to Barty yet," said Aurelle regretfully. "He wants me to wait till I'm stronger."
That made Frank chuckle. "As if she hasn't already proved her strength."
Professor Snape shifted his feelt impatiently. "Why have you summoned us here, Longbottom?"
"I was coming to that, Severus. I can repay a tiny part of the debt I owe to both of you, by using the Trempath one last time."
Professor Snape looked dubious. "It's really not necessary—" he started.
"Oh, but it is," Aurelle asserted. "You see, every time a Trempath is used successfully, its power increases. Every one of its partnerships is imprinted in its memory. This particular Trempath, the Snape-Potter-Longbottom Trempath, will be highly prized when Frank returns it. But if possible each transaction must be balanced and complete."
"You'd better go first, Harry," said Frank. Harry stepped over to Frank's bedside and took the Trempath, with no inkling of what would happen. A thunderbolt of sheer joy almost took his breath away, and with it came an unshakable conviction that everything would come right in the end, no matter how hopeless it appeared, and that the finality of death was only an illusion.
"You see," said Frank, "I had to share this with you too, after the Curser. It's only fair."
Harry looked at the Trempath and saw it sparkling like a Christmas tree; he saw Frank and Aurelle watching him open the best Christmas present he had ever had.
Harry knew that the Frank Longbottom's mind was as scarred and maimed as the body of Mad-Eye Moody, with his magic eye and his wooden leg and the chunk missing from his nose. Yet they had both survived, and Frank's wounds were just as honourable as Moody's, though not as obvious. Now Harry was beginning to see past the scars. Amazingly, despite the intimacy of the Trempath, he had only begun to know the person Frank really was.
And then, "You knew my parents," Harry exclaimed, because Lily and James Potter were there in his mind in a way they had never been before, not as his own mother and father, but as Frank and Aurelle's friends. No particular memories came to his mind, but Harry knew they were there; all he had to do was ask. But that could wait. For now, just knowing James and Lily were with him was enough.
A sudden thought made Harry start to give back the Trempath, but Frank wouldn't allow it. He said, "The Trempath follows a basic law of human interaction, Harry. Pain shared grows less; joy shared grows greater."
"Right. I knew that," said Harry, grinning like a fool, so happy he didn't know what to do with himself. He almost needed to check to see if he had sprouted wings. "Anybody need a Patronus?" he asked no one in particular. Finally he said, "I don't know if I can take much more of this," and handed the Trempath back. This time Frank took it, but Harry still felt as if he had come into a fortune whose existence he had never suspected.
"Come over here, Harry," Aurelle beckoned him. Harry walked around to her bedside and she pulled him down far enough that she could kiss him, while Frank reached over and put a hand on his shoulder. "You'll have to come and celebrate with us when we get our wands back, Harry," Aurelle invited after she had released him.
"Of course," Harry consented. "I'd be honoured."
"And Ron and Hermione and Ivy and Salazara," added Frank. "And you too, Severus. Now come and take your turn with the Trempath."
"Really, I think I had best be getting back—" began Professor Snape, distinctly twitchy.
"Not until you get what's coming to you, Severus," Aurelle insisted sweetly.
"It's not really all that bad, Professor," Harry managed with a straight face, and then exploded with laughter after all.
A fleeting expression of panic crossed Snape's face. For a moment he looked trapped. A venomous scowl gathered between his brows, but before getting the full benefit of it Harry said, "I'll just, er, wait outside," and left the room hastily, shutting the door behind him.
Neville looked up from the pamphlet he was pretending to read. "How was it, Harry?"
Harry just shook his head, unable to describe it. "Did you know about this?" he asked at last.
"Dad told me this morning what he was planning," Neville answered. "He hoped the timing would work out. It looks like it did."
"Must have," said Harry. "I haven't touched the ground yet." He sat down, leaned back, and plunked his feet on another chair, in clear violation of longstanding rules.
"And Professor Snape is having it now, is he?"
"I hope so," said Harry. "After he saw what it did to me, he wanted no part of it. I must have looked a right idiot."
"Happens to me all the time," said Neville. "Remember the Broken Record Spell?"
"Yeah, and the tutti-frutti Jell-O," Harry snorted. "Good job you were there, Neville. Marshmallows and all. Say, I've wanted to ask you, which was scarier for you? Snape and the Broken Record Spell, or Lucius Malfoy?"
"Snape," said Neville. "No contest. And that spell was horrible. But both times, I was so mad I hardly knew what I was doing."
"I've learned to watch out for that nasty temper of yours," said Harry. "Especially with Mr. Malfoy. I think I would have felt the same if it was my Mum."
"I still can hardly believe it, Harry. Mum and Dad—it's like they're back from the dead."
"I know. Salazara was terrific, wasn't she?"
Neville apparently understood that Harry would turn aside any attempt at thanks. "What do you think a Runespoor would like for a present, Harry?" he asked.
The Longbottoms' door opened and Professor Snape strode out. "Time to go, Potter," he said abruptly. Harry unhurriedly removed his feet from one chair and stood up from the other.
"See you, Harry," said Neville. "Bye, Professor Snape. I'll be back again tomorrow."
"See that you're not late for class, Longbottom," Snape warned.
"Yes, sir," said Neville. "We won't be meeting in Secret Room Number Eight on Wednesdays anymore, will we?"
"I suppose not," Snape ruminated. "Unless … perhaps you would like to continue?" His eyes brightened and he rubbed his hands together.
Neville's jaw dropped at the suggestion. "Well, sir, I really don't—I mean of course it was very—" he stammered.
"Just checking, Longbottom," said Professor Snape, his lips quirking with amusement.
"He's having you on, Neville," murmured Harry, shooting a suspicious look at the Potions Master. "Anyway, you'd have to do it without me, because I'm through."
"No matter," Snape dismissed the idea. "You both did better than I expected." His tone made it sound as if he hadn't expected much, but all the same, from him it was a generous admission. "And I have many demands on my time."
As they made their way back through the corridors to the designated fireplace on the Floo network, Harry wanted to ask Professor Snape what his time with the Trempath had been like, but he didn't want to sound too nosy. "So," he finally said without looking at his teacher, "You took your turn, Professor Snape?"
"I did, Potter," Snape told him, staring straight ahead.
"I hope you, er, liked it," Harry ventured. He decided not to ask if Snape had had a kiss from Aurelle.
"Evidently you did, Potter," Snape observed.
Harry grinned again at the memory. "Yeah, I reckon," he said. "It was … well, you know how it was." He didn't dare inquire about Iris Lefay. "Sir, will you join the rest of us at Hagrid's tomorrow when we celebrate? Ivy's father is invited too, naturally."
This time Professor Snape looked at him. "Seriously, Potter?"
"Seriously, sir. It's only right that you should come."
Snape pursed his lips. "It's a lot of fooishness, but I might spare a few minutes," he allowed. "Just to make sure things don't get out of hand."
The next morning (it was Saturday), Hagrid's hut was more crowded than Harry had ever seen it. Lucretia Longbottom had come, and Octavius and Ivy sat on either side of Professor Snape, each holding one of his arms so he couldn't bolt. Harry suspected that they had dragged him there by main force. Salazara had draped herself comfortably over all three of them. Ron had outdone himself in the matter of purloined refreshments, and Hermione and Neville had helped him carry them across the grounds and were helping him unpack and set them out on the table. For once Hermione had nothing to say about overdoing it.
When Harry stepped through the door, Hagrid grabbed him and started pounding him almost insensible. "Yeh did it, Harry! Yeh did it! I can' hardly believe it!"
"It wasn't me," Harry said for the third time, reeling from the impact, and from the Trempath high that still felt like walking on clouds.
But Hagrid wasn't having that. "I don' want ter hear any more of that 'It wasn' me' codswallop," he said sternly. "Yer goin' ter stand there, Harry, and take it like a man, if I've got anythin' ter say abou' it. Ron, Hermione, make sure everyone's got a drink." He waited until everyone had a mug of butterbeer (Ivy had to let go of her uncle's arm). "A toast," announced Hagrid, holding his mug high, "ter someone who never gave up till the job was done—HARRY POTTER!" Loud clanks and deafening cheers.
"Okay, I surrender," said Harry when he could make himself heard. "But it would never have been possible without NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM!" More cheers, and tears from Lucretia.
Neville jumped to his feet from his seat on the floor, spilling half his butterbeer. "I nominate IVY PARKINSON!" Loud cheers followed, and some impressive table-thumping from Octavius and Severus Snape.
Ivy rose more gracefully, and declaimed, "Neville, I accept your nomination, and raise you THREE CHEERS FOR UNCLE SEVERUS!" Harry led the cheering, and Octavius clapped his brother on the back until Severus choked on his butterbeer.
"Most irregular," he coughed. When he had managed to catch his breath he proposed dourly, "All due credit to Octavius." This brought more applause, more cheers, and a piercing whistle from Ivy.
Octavius stood up and pronounced, "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you SALAZARA, the Little Runespoor that Could."
"BRAVO!" roared Hagrid, and drained his mug with a flourish.
Salazara, now ensconced around Ivy's neck, raised her middle head, and the rest of them hushed to listen. "Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs," she hissed quietly. Harry and Ivy both translated.
That stopped them in their tracks. "Well, Wormtail in the Map, I suppose," Hermione admitted. "Of course that would be who you meant."
"I wonder how he's enjoying his tapioca," reflected Ron. "And while we're at it, what about Mad-Eye Moody?"
"You mean the one in young Barty Crouch's body," Hermione deduced.
"Yeh've lost me," said Hagrid.
"It's frightfully complicated," said Harry. "I suppose you want to hear the whole story of Thursday night."
"But first," Neville interjected, "A hand for the rest of the team—Ron, Hermione, Hagrid, and Gran." They all gave a final cheer, and Lucretia needed her handkerchief again.
Octavius and Lucretia wanted to hear everything from the beginning, so Neville began with the first time Harry had seen Frank Longbottom. They all told it, interrupting and correcting each other and adding explanations. Professor Snape even contributed some information about his tutorial methods. When Neville got to the part about the breaking of Harry's wand-double, both the Snapes listened with close attention.
"You took a terrible risk, Ivy," said Octavius, shaking his head. "Even though the mission didn't go astray, you or young Malfoy might easily have been expelled from Hogwarts."
"She is young and ignorant," Professor Snape stated coolly, "perhaps fortunately in this case. One who was older and wiser might not have acted with as much resolve."
"Not doing it would have been even riskier," Ivy countered. "For Draco especially. I'm still convinced of that."
"Especially after the way Mr. Malfoy threatened you," Neville put in. "And Draco too."
"I haven't forgotten that," said Octavius tightly.
"I haven' heard that part yet," said Hagrid.
"We're getting ahead of the story," noted Hermione.
"Yeah, Neville, you were just explaining how Ivy cried herself to sleep every night for a week," Ron prompted.
"No, tha' was me," said Hagrid. "I was more upset than Harry."
"Don't bet on it," said Harry.
"Say, Ivy, have you talked to Draco lately?" asked Ron.
Ivy wrinkled her nose. "Yes. I told him the whole thing was my fault, and that I'd told his father so, but that didn't make him feel any better. He doesn't want to have any more to do with me. Fortunately he seemed to think dumping was the worst thing he could do to me."
"He doesn't deserve to feel better," Harry exclaimed heatedly. "And you're way too good for him, you know that, Ivy. He can go back to Pansy; she's more on his level."
Somewhat to Harry's surprise, Professor Snape stayed until the end of the recital. He showed particular interest in the inside of Lucius Malfoy's office. "I wouldn't mind having a look round myself," he muttered.
"Octavius could take you," suggested Lucretia.
Lunchtime found them still bringing each other up to date, with the food showing no signs of running short. The house-elves had supplied them with an all-day high tea, featuring beef pies, jam tarts, tipsy trifle, whole roast chickens and hams, watercress sandwiches, and the like. When the party finally broke up, well along in the afternoon, Ron stuffed most of the leftovers back in the hamper to take up to Gryffindor Tower. Neville insisted that Ivy take something too, but all she would accept was some caviar for Salazara, who had shown a marked taste for it.
After Hagrid had given him another drubbing by way of farewell, Harry went round to Hagrid's garden , followed by Hermione, Ron, Neville, and Ivy. "Mr. Crouch!" he called. The ghost of Crouch Senior appeared, looking as somber as ever. "Yes, Potter," he answered in a dejected voice.
"Octavius Snape took your son into a painting, and he can talk now," said Harry, hoping to avoid lengthy explanations. "I thought you might like to go and see him."
"It's just a stopgap," said Crouch sourly.
"Yes, but at least you could talk to each other," said Hermione. "And have you heard that Aurelle Longbottom has offered to redeem his soul? Mr. Snape has been studying how it can be done. And the Longbottoms are themselves again, did you know?"
The ghost of Crouch was silent for a moment, drifting and nervously rubbing his almost-invisible moustache. Harry got the feeling that Crouch preferred brooding on his fantasies of revenge to the prospect of actually having his troublesome son restored, most likely to be clapped back in Azkaban. At last Crouch said, "Generous of her, but I don't know if it would be wise. I suppose I'll have to see him. Give my respects to Frank and Aurelle."
Hermione wasn't finished with him. "I think you should also apologise to Winky, your former house elf," she lectured him, "and while you're at it, what about Iris Lefay?"
"Perhaps Weatherby could look into it," hedged Crouch, looking uneasy.
Ivy gave Crouch's ghost directions to the Secret Room Number Eight and Madam Nightingale's clinic. As they left to cross the grounds to Hogwarts, Harry remarked, "The news doesn't seem to have cheered him up much, does it?"
"When did you ever see him cheerful in life, Harry?" Ron asked him, and Harry had to admit that he had a point.
The next Monday they had double Potions with the Slytherins just as if nothing had happened. Well, not quite …
As he sat down, Draco Malfoy looked daggers at Harry over his cauldron, in which he was getting ready to prepare the Wart Removing Draught they had been assigned to read about. "What have you done to my father, Potter? Whatever it is, you'll be sorry."
"It wasn't me," said Harry (again), heaving his bag onto the next table. "Haven't you heard? Professor Snape's own brother put Lucius in a painting. Ask Professor Snape."
"You're lying," retorted Malfoy. "I know you're behind it, Potter."
"I'll take that as a compliment," said Harry, whose good mood was still holding up.
"Or why not ask Ivy? Your precious Ivy beat you at your own game, Malfoy," Ron couldn't resist taunting, "and now her father's done it to yours. I always knew Slytherins were their own worst enemies."
"Why don't you stay out of this, Weasley?" blazed Malfoy. "What do you know about it, anyway, you little low-life?"
"I saw him," jeered Ron. "He didn't look a bit happy. But it's lucky for you he's there, because I wouldn't want to be the one to have to face him about … you know what." Ron jerked his head in Harry's direction.
"Even though she took the rap for you," Harry added. "She's got more stomach for it than you have, Malfoy. I'm surprised that even you would hide behind a girl." With that, Malfoy drew his wand, and Harry drew his; but Malfoy popped his back in his robes with a crafty smile before Snape, who had just entered, could catch him holding it.
"Silence, Potter!" thundered Professor Snape, striding to the front of the room. "And put your wand away before I confiscate it. We don't use wands in this class. What is the meaning of all this?"
Ever literal, Neville answered the question. "Malfoy started it, sir."
"All I saw was Potter's wand out," contended Snape. "All I heard was Potter making inflammatory remarks. I will have to take points from Gryffindor."
"But that's not fair, sir," protested Neville. "You came in after it started."
"Do you dare question my discipline, Longbottom? I would advise against it."
"Y-yes, sir, I do," Neville whispered.
Ron gave Neville a warning nudge. "Remember where you are! This is Potions class!"
"Oh, right," said Neville. "But still …"
Professor Snape scowled blackly at Harry and Neville, but seemed to be having trouble summoning the old, familiar hostility. However, he had to keep up appearances. "Potter and Longbottom, two points from Gryffindor … no, three … for each of you, for your impertinent behaviour." He made it sound like six weeks in a subterranean, rat-infested dungeon. "Now we will review the ingredients for today's potion. I trust there will be no more disturbance. I have provided warty toads on which to test your mixtures, but I also have a wart-inducing potion already made up in the event that a human trial seems indicated."
Harry had hard work not to burst out laughing. Ron, next to him, seemed to be having the same problem, and Harry didn't dare catch his eye.
That evening Harrry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville had returned to the Gryffindor common room to work on homework. "I don't know what got into me," said Neville, looking pale and shocked. "I can't believe I actually did it."
"Did what, Neville?" asked Ron. "Sauced Snape in Potions?"
"No, not that. I—I asked …" he trailed off.
"You asked Ivy to the Spring Dance?" Hermione guessed. Neville nodded.
"You didn't!" Ron exclaimed gleefully. Harry knew that Ron was remembering his own ill-fated attempted to take the lovely Fleur Delacour, from Beauxbatons, to the Yule ball the previous year.
"I really did," said Neville.
"She said yes, didn't she?" Harry said, grinning.
Neville nodded again. "That's what I really can't get over. We're going to meet in the Great Hall."
"But Neville, you, er, your dancing …" Ron didn't quite know how to put it.
"I know," said Neville. "Ivy saw me with Ginny at the Yule ball last year. She made me promise to let her teach me a few dance steps before the night."
"Well, there you are," said Hermione. "You'll be fine. I'm sure she's an excellent dancer and a good teacher, too."
"She does everything well," said Neville.
"So, you really like Ivy, do you?" said Ron.
"She's the prettiest, bravest, and almost the smartest girl in the school," said Neville positively, but giving Hermione her due.
"What other Slytherin would dare to be seen with a Gryffindor?" Ron asked the universe.
"I con't think of many Gryffindors who'd want to be seen with Slytherins, either," Hermione commented. "You'd better watch your back, Neville."
"Yeah, even playing chess with her in the Great Hall is kind of risky," Ron told him.
Neville shrugged. "At least I'm safe from Salazara," he said unconcernedly.
"I wasn't planning to go at all," said Harry, "but this I have to see."
On the night of the Spring Dance, Ivy was wearing robes of a deep blood-red, much the same shade as the Durmstrang school uniform, but far more sheer and clinging, with no room for a Runespoor to lurk undetected. She had reddened her lips to match, and a ruby pendant hung on her forehead from a fine silver chain threaded into her upswept black hair. She looked every inch the enchantress. Neville stared at her without a word, and Ron whacked him on the arm.
"Neville," he said, "Your date's here." Ivy winked at Neville and took his arm, and finally he woke up from his trance and stuttered, "You look b-beautiful, Ivy."
"Try stunning," suggested Harry, also looking at her with appreciation. "I see you have a third eye tonight, Ivy."
"I always do," she told him, grinning, "but you can't always see it."
* * *
AN: Of course Barty Jr. doesn't deserve to have Aurelle give her life for him. But in a horrible way he needs her more than Neville does. I couldn't bring myself to write her death into the story, so it might, after all, be years in the future. Just the epilogue to go now.