Chapter 3: Lady in Black
First ones
to walk this path of night
Lady in black, lady in white
…
May the quest begin!
—Nightwish: Nightquest
"Ron, are you sure you have everything?" shouted Mrs Weasley in the random direction of where her youngest son was, that is, in his room up the staircase—five landings higher than she was.
"Sure, Mum."
"Athena?"
"On her way!"
"Your books?"
"Yes, Mum."
"Your new robes?"
"Yes, Mum!"
"Your homework?"
"Yes!"
"Enough ink and parchment?"
"Mum, we're having Hogsmeade weekends on a regular basis," Ginny intervened, as she swept past her, carrying Pig's cage and her trunk, thus saving her brother the trouble of having to shout another set of 'Yes, Mum's.
"Are you finished packing, Ginny?"
"Yes, Mum—and I've got my books, robes, broomstick and a lot of things I won't even need." She went through the doorway to join her father.
"Harry?"
"Everything's packed, Mrs Weasley. Really." Harry levitated his trunk down the narrow staircase. Hedwig's empty cage was sitting on top of it. The Snowy owl had already been sent on her way to Hogwarts. So had Pig and Athena. Crookshanks was the only pet to enjoy the privilege of travelling with them—although he hadn't seemed very happy when Hermione had stuffed him into his basket.
Mrs Weasley sighed. "You've all grown up so fast."
Mr Weasley was waiting outside; two huge black cars had been provided by the Ministry to take them all to King's Cross station. He helped Harry with strategically placing his luggage and Hedwig's cage in the car's boot.
Ron's stuff came last, Mrs Weasley running after her youngest son, still asking him if he had everything.
Harry couldn't help chuckling as he crept into the back of the first car. Hermione was already there, Crookshanks on her lap inside the basket and spitting. She greeted Harry with a, "What took you so long? Honestly…"
Ron and Ginny scrambled in after Harry.
"Well, we're packed and ready to go, aren't we?" Ron said brightly. "I almost thought the only words I'd be speaking today would be 'Yes, Mum!'"
"Me too," said Ginny.
Mr Weasley sat down in the front seat next to the driver. "We're ready," he said.
"Yes, sir." And with that, they left The Burrow, the other car following them. The rest of the Weasley family were sitting inside, trunkless, cageless, Hogwarts-robeless and keen on seeing them safely to the train.
As soon as they'd arrived at King's Cross station, Fred, George, Bill, and Charlie hurried off to get them trolleys on which they could set their luggage. Then it was through the barrier to platform nine and three quarters where the Hogwarts Express was waiting for them, the scarlet engine breathing steam already.
"Let's put our luggage away first," Hermione suggested and they saw their luggage was put into the luggage van. After that, they all returned to the assembled Weasleys. Fred and George kept wiping imaginary tears away.
"Take good care. All of you," Mrs Weasley said, blinking back tears.
A chorus of "Yes, Mum,"s and "Yes, Mrs Weasley,"s answered her.
"Come on, Mum, get a grip on yourself. It's not as though they were out of the world," Bill said, patting his mother's shoulder.
"And good luck for your exams," Mr Weasley said.
"Dad, the N.E.W.Ts are ages away!" Ron pointed out.
"They'll be upon you faster than you think."
"Write as soon as you've arrived, so we know that you're safe, alright?" Mrs Weasley said, pulling Ginny into a somewhat awkward hug, as Ginny was a head taller than her mother.
"Yes, Mum. I promise."
"And write whenever something's amiss, alright?" It was Ron's turn to be hugged and kissed good-bye by his sobbing mother.
"Yes, Mum—You're suffocating me!"
"Sorry, Ron."
Hermione, too, received a hug and Harry had his hair ruffled by Mrs Weasley. Why was it that everyone had to ruffle his hair? Ron did it to annoy Harry. Ginny did it because she liked it. Mrs Weasley did it for reasons that were beyond Harry. And Sirius did it… well… because he was Sirius.
"Don't cry, Mum. You'll have Bill and Charlie and Percy at home, not to mention Fred and George," Ginny said, and Mrs Weasley rummaged in her pockets for a handkerchief on which she blew her nose.
"Actually, I am already being expected," Percy said. "And so are Bill and Charlie."
"Yes, we just wanted to see you to the train and say good-bye."
"And then we're off, too," Charlie added. "But we'll try to stay in contact more than ever."
"Watch over our little sister, will you, Harry?" Bill said. "And you too, Ron."
Harry nodded. Weren't they overly anxious as to their safety? Hogwarts was the safest place to be—as soon as you were there.
The whistle sounded, indicating that the train was about to leave.
"We've got to go, Mum, Dad," Ron said.
"Bye, everyone." Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny jumped aboard the train, the doors closed right after them, and they went on the search for an empty compartment, which they found around in the middle of the train.
They slumped into their seats. Hermione opened Crookshanks's basket—the ginger cat curled up on her lap and purred as she stroked his head. Then she drew a large book out of her bag. Harry recognized it as Hideously Advanced Charms and Spells, his copy of which he had stored safely in his trunk.
"You can't be serious, 'Mione," Ron voiced Harry's thoughts. "We're not even back at Hogwarts. School hasn't even started!"
"No reason not to inform myself what awaits us this term, is it?" Hermione asked smoothly. Crookshanks purred again. "He agrees with me." She grinned and returned her attention to the book.
Around noon, there was a knock at the compartment door and the witch with the trolley asked, "Anybody hungry?"
"We're always hungry," said Ginny, quite clearly looking at Ron as she said this.
Ron wrinkled his freckly nose at his equally freckly sister. "You're one to talk. You'll look like the Fat Friar one day if you don't stop eating so much."
"You're one to talk. The house-elves down in the kitchen know you by your footfall already."
"We'll have a bit of everything, right, everyone?" Harry asked. "I'm buying. Regard it as a belated birthday party substitute."
"Very much belated, I must say," Ron said. "Wait, Ma'am!" he exclaimed when the witch made to hand a box of Bertie Botts' Beans to Ginny. "Better give the Every Flavour Beans to me—or we'll only get the disgusting ones as soon as my sister's sorted the edible ones out."
"That was not my intention, Ronald," Ginny said almost regally.
"Really?"
"Yes, I merely wanted to sneak a few Ginny Gems in." She grinned broadly and snatched the Beans out of the witch's grasp.
"There you are, dears," the witch smiled and gave the pumpkin pasties and beans and Chocolate Frogs and a bit of whatever else she had on the trolley to Hermione and Ginny who were sitting closest to the compartment door.
Harry paid exactly a Galleon, and the witch went on along the corridor. "Hungry anyone?" he heard her ask again before he closed the door.
Ron was already busy unwrapping the Chocolate Frogs.
"I can't believe it!" he exclaimed after the fifth or so frog, his voice muffled by the Chocolate Frog he was chewing on. "I almost thought they forgot to put him in."
"Whom?" Harry asked blankly.
"Agrippa!" Ron exclaimed. "I can't believe I've finally got them all—until new ones are added, of course. Oh, that I live to see the day to—there's another Dumbledore."
"How many Dumbledores do you have already, Ron? Fifty?" Harry asked.
"More," said Ginny.
"But not much more than that," said Ron. "Oh, Agrippa, if you knew how long I had to wait for this moment. Quiet, everyone, I'm reading the info—."
The door slid open and Neville entered the compartment. "Say, you haven't seen—?"
"A toad?" the whole compartment chorused.
"Trevor," Neville finished, grinning despite himself. "I seem to lose him constantly when on the train. I take it you haven't seen him?"
"No," Hermione said. "Just pray Malfoy hasn't caught him."
"Oh, dear… Thanks anyway. In my next life I'll get myself an owl or a cat…" he muttered.
"Maybe the problem is not that your toad is a toad, but that Trevor is Trevor," Ginny said.
"You mean he's doing it on purpose?"
"Looks like it, doesn't it?"
"A toad with a sense of humour," Harry chuckled.
"Well, I'm off. I'll try to find him before he gets himself caught by someone who doesn't mean him as well as you and I do. See you later."
"And not quite as toadless, huh?" Ron said, securing the card inside the pocket of his shirt.
"Sort of… Trevor!" Neville called, proceeding down the corridor. "Excuse me, you haven't stumbled across a toad? He's about that size and—."
Ginny, sniggering, pulled the compartment door shut. "Harry, would you hand me the other bags of Beans, please? I'd like to sort them out before anyone else can do that."
Harry did so, despite Ron's objections. "How do you see whether it is a toffee or an earwax-flavoured one?" he asked. "To me they look all the same. To me even the sardine-flavoured ones look like toffee."
"That will be my secret," Ginny winked. "There, have a strawberry one."
"I don't trust you."
"You're breaking my heart," Ginny pouted. "Alright. I'll eat it myself then."
Harry snatched it from her. "Alright," he said slowly, "the only question now is, did you count on me declining the offer so you could trick me into eating a whatever-disgusting-flavour one, or did you rather count on me doing what I did?"
"Only one way to find out," she said happily. "By the way, what do you take me for?"
"A Weasley," he replied wryly.
"Honestly, I swear to a bag of Ginny Gems that it's really a strawberry-flavoured bean. Besides, if I hadn't chosen it for you, what would you have taken it for?"
Harry eyed it suspiciously before he finally popped it into his mouth. He so enjoyed teasing Ginny when it came to wizarding sweets. "Mmm. It really is strawberry. Can you determine a peppermint one, too?"
"Try me."
"Go on," Harry prompted.
"I've got an idea," Ron grinned suggestively. "How about if we ask Ginny to determine the flavour of one bean at a time—."
"You're already doing that, Ron." Hermione had looked up from her book for a moment.
"And what happens if she—hypothetically of course," Harry added quickly, "if Ginny gets it wrong?"
"I won't get it wrong. I'm an expert!" she playfully punched his upper arm.
"You've always been good. But not that good. Anyway, Ginny, if you fail," Ron said, "you'll have to reach into the bag with your eyes closed and eat whatever bean you get, no matter if it's lettuce, or spinach, or earwax, or vomit, or tar, or—."
"There are tar-flavoured ones?" Ginny asked blankly. "Just kidding. Of course, there are tar-flavoured ones, too. And before any one of you asks himself how I found out how to determine their flavours, let me state that I suffered them all numerous times before I got the hang of it. Courtesy of Fred and George."
"Poor Ginny," Harry teased. "Have a treat."
"That's exactly how they always caught me when I was little," she said wryly.
An hour and about three bags of Beans later, Ginny sighed and said. "Face it already. I won't fail. Not when it concerns the Beans," Ginny said proudly. "Let's play something else—. The one you're holding is dirt, by the way."
Ron dropped it as though it were a hot potato.
Ginny pulled out a deck of Exploding Snap cards and began dealing out the cards. Hermione preferred to continue reading the book.
"How are we supposed to be sure that the ones you said were bad really are the bad ones?" Ron asked.
"You can't," Ginny said brightly. "Unless of course…" She raised her eyebrows suggestively.
"Erm…"
Ron looked almost relieved when he was spared the answer by the compartment door sliding open. But he froze almost instantly, as everybody's—well, at least of the assembled people—least favourite person all but slithered inside. (Crabbe and Goyle stayed outside, as their bulky bodies wouldn't have fit into the now fairly crowded compartment.)
"The Potter gang—," Malfoy began. That was apparently his way of saying 'hello'.
"What happened to Potty and the Weasels?" Harry asked casually, arranging his hand. With cards like the ones he had, who could stop him from winning?
"I don't like repeating myself."
"And that when he so obviously repeats himself so very often," Hermione muttered, not even bothering to look at him.
"For you, I make an exception, Mudblood." Malfoy had caught her meaning.
"I don't like repeating myself either, Malfoy, but for you I'd make an exception and bitch-slap you again." She casually turned the page of her book. "Your memory's not the best, is it?"
"The past. Who cares about the past? You can have it. The future is mine—or rather ours," Malfoy sneered. "We only needed the past to prepare the future if you know what I mean."
"What if we don't?" Ron asked challengingly.
"Then you're even stupider than I thought. Must be excessive contact with half-bloods and the Mudblood bitch."
"That's it!" Harry and Ron jumped up as one, shoving Ginny out of the way who had also jumped to her feet, the cards falling to the floor, brandished their wands and pointed them at Malfoy.
"Out!" Harry shouted, whereas Ron settled for an insult for which Mrs Weasley would have made him de-gnome the garden every day—if she'd heard it.
"Think you can threaten me?"
"Do you?" Ron challenged.
Malfoy merely smirked but before he could reply, a girl's voice called his name, "Draco, what's taking you so long?"
He rolled his eyes before throwing another death glare in Harry and Ron's direction. "Nothing, Pansy. And shut up!" he called and added. "Soon it will be nothing at all. Watch your back, Potter. Last night was only the beginning."
With that, he turned, squeezed through the narrow gap between Crabbe and Goyle and was gone.
"We should have taken points from him," Ron muttered. "Can we do that before the start of term?" He arranged his Head Boy badge, looking eerily like Percy as he did so.
"We could. A round fifty," Hermione agreed, slamming her book shut, "if we wanted to."
"At least," Ginny said, a murderous look on her face.
"The more the merrier," said Harry dryly. "He cost us more points than Snape and McGonagall could ever have taken away on their own."
They picked up their Exploding Snap cards again and started on another game as it was hardly possible to determine which cards were whose anymore.
After a while, Ginny spoke up, a thoughtful look on her face. "What happened last night?"
"Well if you don't remember…" Harry began.
"No. I mean, yes. I remember what happened in my room—." ("Oh, please!" Ron exclaimed. Harry blushed. Ginny rolled her eyes, and Hermione quickly stifled a giggle.) "But honestly, Malfoy said that last night had only been the beginning. What happened last night?" She furrowed her brows in puzzlement.
Harry's face must have displayed an expression similar to the ones he saw on the others' faces.
"I don't know…"
The compartment door opened again.
"What is it now?" Ron said, not even looking up from his cards. "Go and bother someone else, Malf—!"
"Erm…" a small voice answered, "Excuse me?"
Harry looked up from his cards. "Oh. Hi."
There was a girl standing in the doorway. Harry knew her by sight although they'd never spoken to each other. She must be a third or fourth-year; Harry did the calculation.
"Well, unless Malfoy had some serious hexes hurled at him…" Hermione said.
"Oops, my fault. Didn't want to be rude," Ron apologised. "At least not to you. So, no offence."
"None taken," the girl said softly.
"Can we help you?" Harry asked, as she appeared to be quite shy.
"Hi, Harry," the girl began hesitantly. "Sorry, I just wanted to ask… You haven't seen Josie, have you? I thought she might be with someone who's also on the Quidditch team."
"No," Harry said. "Haven't seen her. Why?"
"Me neither," said Ron.
Ginny and Hermione shook their heads. "Sorry."
"Oh, well, we've probably just missed each other. Excuse me."
"No problem."
"If we see her we'll tell her you're looking for her… er…"
"Rebecca," she smiled. "You wouldn't know my name."
"Rebecca," Harry repeated. "We'll tell her if she drops in here, looking for you."
"Thanks. See you." The door closed.
"It's like a beehive in here," Ron said, shaking his head and returning his attention to his hand.
~*~*~
As their journey northward progressed, it started raining outside; thunder rolled in the distance as a bright blue bolt of lightning zigzagged over the previously gentle violet and orange evening sky. Within a matter of moments it became dark as the deepest night, numerous bolts of lightning illuminating the dark clouds as another clash of thunder rolled over the sky, the rain splashing violently against the windowpanes.
"We'd better put on our school robes. It's only a few more minutes," Hermione said, finally shoving the book back inside her bag.
They did as Hermione had suggested and soon arrived at Hogsmeade station. It took her a while to persuade Crookshanks to crawl back into his basket. What seemed to convince him to do so was neither Hermione's prompting nor Ron's irritation at the cat's behaviour but the fact that another clash of thunder rolled outside and that the rain was by now coming down in buckets.
"If only we were already at the castle," Ginny muttered, as they left the train. "This is going to be the worst storm we ever had."
"Ghastly weather," Harry agreed, casting an Impervius Charm on his glasses. "Look. There's Hagrid."
Hagrid was hardly to miss since he held up a gigantic yellow umbrella.
"It's a miracle if he's not struck by lightning," Ginny said.
"Firs' years over here!" Hagrid shouted over the thunderstorm. "Firs' years come here! Don't yeh worry—Hi there, Harry!" he called and waved.
Harry waved back before Ginny pulled him towards the carriages and inside the one Ron and Hermione were already sitting in. Hermione was wringing out her soaked clothes and hair. To put it mildly, her hair wasn't even remotely as bushy as usual at that moment.
The sound of falling rain and thunder accompanied them on the last part of their journey to Hogwarts. They could hardly wait to arrive there, enter the warm and cosy and above all dry Great Hall and leave the ghastly weather behind.
The carriages stopped at the front doors and the students prepared to jump out and run into the castle as quickly as possible.
That proved unnecessary since—.
"Miss Granger, Mr Weasley?" Professor McGonagall approached them as soon as she had seen them get out of the carriage. She, too, was holding a huge umbrella—although not quite as gigantic as Hagrid's—in her hand to shield herself from the rain and wind. It looked like it would be an enormous thunderstorm.
"Good evening, Professor McGonagall," Hermione said.
"Good evening… Erm, listen, there's something I have to talk to you about. If you'd be so kind as to accompany me to my office? We won't be disturbed there."
"Sure," Ron and Hermione said as one and exchanged worried glances at McGonagall's expression.
"I'll wait—."
"Perhaps, Mr Potter, you should come, too. It's… well… It concerns you, too. Actually, it concerns all of us…"
Harry nodded. "See you, Gin. I'm sure it won't take long."
"Okay," Ginny tried an encouraging smile before she ran inside. Harry, Ron and Hermione were reasonably protected by Professor McGonagall's umbrella as they followed her inside.
Professor McGonagall led them up the marble staircase and along the first floor corridor until they arrived at her office door.
"Please come inside," she said, and they did so, exchanging some uneasy glances. What ever could be of such importance that the Professor needed to speak to them alone and in her office? Why this secrecy? They hadn't done anything that could be regarded as rule breaking. Well, not yet. Besides, the Professor looked far too anxious for the matter to be something as simple as the taking away of a few house points.
Professor McGonagall sat down at her desk, gesturing for them to sit down also.
"I have been entrusted to break some awful news to the Head Boy and Girl. I do not envy you of the task that is upon you two, since it is upon you to inform the students of Gryffindor House before the Headmaster tells the whole school. Prepare our House for what he will tell—."
"What's wrong, Professor McGonagall?" Hermione asked, concerned.
Harry, too, was concerned. Why was the usually so straightforward Professor beating about the bush? If only she'd get the 'awful news' out and let them see for themselves if it was so very awful as she made it seem.
"Yes, what is it, Professor? And what am I doing here?" Harry asked.
"Mr Potter, you as the Quidditch Captain are also facing a crisis, since, you see," McGonagall took a deep breath, "Josie Lane is no longer with us."
"What do you mean, no longer with us?" Ron asked. "Where is she?"
"Professor, she's not…" Hermione began.
"I'm afraid so, Miss Granger," McGonagall said softly, pulled out a handkerchief and blew her nose. "Josie is dead."
Silence fell heavily on them when the Professor had finished speaking.
Harry jumped up and walked to the window, looking out over the Quidditch pitch, which was illuminated by a series of lightning bolts. "How?" he asked hoarsely. "How did it happen?" Harry knew the answer before the Professor confirmed his suspicions.
"Death Eater attack," McGonagall replied. "Last night. Early morning to be precise. That's why the news has not spread yet. I myself received it only an hour ago."
"We'll break it to the Gryffindors, Professor," Ron said. "Count on us."
"Good. Now for practical matters," McGonagall said, sounding more like the Professor McGonagall Harry was used to. "As the Gryffindor Captain you should perhaps consider to schedule Quidditch tryouts, Mr Potter. The team needs a new Chaser."
"Yes, Professor."
"I expect you to play just as well as the previous years. We'll show them that for every one they kill, there are many others willing to take their place. We do that in the grander scheme of the wizarding world. Let's do it also in the small community that is Hogwarts."
Harry nodded and saw Ron and Hermione do the same.
"Dismissed," she said as they left the office. "I wish the new school year had started more cheerfully."
"Let's hurry," said Hermione.
"She would have been in her fourth year," Ron said. "I liked her. She was fast."
"Rebecca won't get over it easily," Harry muttered.
"Who?"
"The girl on the train. She was looking for Josie, remember?" Hermione said.
"Oh."
In silence, they made their way back down the marble staircase to the Entrance Hall and slipped into the Great Hall where the Sorting was just about to begin. McGonagall was already there. Obviously, she knew a shortcut. Harry made a mental note to consult the Marauder's Map on that particular passage some time or other.
They'd missed the Sorting Hat's song.
Quickly they made their way towards the Gryffindor table. Once they'd arrived, there they started explaining to Ginny what McGonagall had told them while the Professor set the Sorting Hat on the first new student to be Sorted.
Ginny gave Harry a kiss on the cheek to soothe him and hugged him; actions that still made him blush crimson—even though she'd done this dozens of times already. Ginny had once commented that the colour his face turned under circumstances like this complemented her hair beautifully. He had no idea if that was really so or if she only teased him with comments like this…
Josie. Dead. She'd made the team when Harry had been made Captain two years ago, when almost the entire old team had graduated. She had been so talented. Ron had always joked that she'd been Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell combined in one. She'd been small and fast. She'd have made one hell of a Seeker if Harry hadn't been on the team. As soon as Harry would have left Hogwarts, who could tell if the new Captain wouldn't have made her a Seeker? Well, that would not happen.
Because the Death Eaters had struck once more.
Ron and Hermione went off to inform the other Gryffindors. The girl Harry knew as Rebecca by now looked very anxious already, looking up and down the table and back again. As Hermione bent down to her and—Harry was sure about that as she had always been more sensitive than Ron—gently broke the worst news a friend could ever get about his or her friend to her, Rebecca immediately broke into tears and cried miserably, while Professor McGonagall only threw her a sad and compassionate glance but continued with the Sorting of far more careless first-years.
Dennis Creevey who was sitting next to the girl gently tried to comfort her. He had been a close friend of Josie's, too. This wasn't unusual since Josie had been in his year. He had seen her in most of his classes. The girl, however, seemed beyond comfort and tried desperately to muffle her sobs. Dennis was as shaken as everyone else and threw Harry a helpless glance from where he was; his blue eyes were strangely bright.
The atmosphere was quite subdued from then on. The first-year Gryffindors were at first puzzled why they didn't receive as much applause as, say, the new Slytherins.
Ron and Hermione took their respective seats again, looking very pale and depressed.
"I never want to have to do that again," Ron whispered shakily, his face very white. Hermione said nothing. At that moment, it was very likely that she didn't trust her voice enough to speak.
Harry didn't feel like talking either. Somehow, the full impact had only hit him a few moments ago when he had told Ginny. His mind hadn't quite grasped the meaning of "Josie's dead" when McGonagall had said it, when they had discussed the practical matters of Quidditch tryouts, when they had returned to the Great Hall…
The Sorting continued with Harry hardly paying any attention to anything aside from the fact that Josie wouldn't be there any more. Quidditch tryouts. How could anyone think about something as trivial as Quidditch now? Harry couldn't think as practical as McGonagall. But sooner or later he'd have to.
The threat the Dark side had been posing for quite some time now had become more real. Darkness had revealed its ugly face and thrown a shadow over all of Hogwarts…
However, there was no more time to ponder those things since the doors of the Great Hall were pushed open from the outside and a dripping wet hooded figure dressed all in black scuttled in.
No voice could be heard any longer. The smallest sob was quickly stifled.
A gust of wind swept through the room, the wind howled through the Entrance Hall and into the Great Hall—it almost sounded like whispering voices—until the heavy front doors of the castle fell shut.
Harry shivered for a moment. Thankfully, the figure closed the doors before continuing down the aisle towards the high table.
As it crossed the room in long strides, it lowered the hood of its cloak, revealing the face of a young woman.
She looked quite pretty—although in a quite unusual way—even though she had to walk through the storm. The Dursleys would have suspected her a witch at first sight.
Her oval face was pale, almost too pale to look healthy. But perhaps that was only because of the sharp contrast to her black robes and her heavily soaked hair that was almost black with water. The flickering light of the candles—they still flickered, although the doors were closed—danced over the few long strands that hadn't been restrained in a sophisticated—but now rather drenched—pile on top of her head, making it appear as though there were streaks of a very dark red in it. Her hair was very long, and since it was soaked like her cloak, it looked probably even longer than it actually was. The strands were snaking all the way down well past her hips, almost down to the hollows of her knees.
Tentative whispering voices could be heard, whose content went along the lines of "Who's that?" or "Do you know…?" The still to be Sorted first-years backed up a little.
As she reached the high table, Dumbledore nodded, and she walked around the table and towards him, then extended her hand in greeting. "Professor Dumbledore," she said in a voice that was quite pleasant-sounding.
Harry breathed a sigh of relief. If this was a new teacher, a voice like that would be much easier to listen to than, say, something similar to 'Patty-pumpkin's'. He'd had his share of unpleasant voices.
Dumbledore smiled, but didn't take her hand. He drew her into a crushing embrace, apparently not caring that she was dripping wet. They must know each other quite well…
~*~*~
She walked up to Dumbledore and extended her hand to greet him. But he pulled her into an embrace, completely ignoring the fact that she was completely soaked. "Sariss. It's good to have you back here, little one," he whispered.
"I'm glad to be back too, Professor. Oh! Sorry," she said sheepishly, noticing that she had quite thoroughly drenched his beard and robes. "Those Impervius Charms really aren't what they are cracked up to be. They don't work so well on clothes; better used on inflexible objects. I shall have to investigate and try to find something of a bit more efficiency."
Oh no, you won't. You'll be very busy either way. No need to look for more work.
No one asked for your opinion.
No one ever asks me.
Yet, you're always commentating on the matters at hand, aren't you?
Someone has to. It's my job to be critical and helpful.
Helpful?
"Don't worry about that. A little water won't make leeks sprout out of my beard or something." Then he became sombre. "Listen… My condolences. I really understand why you didn't attend their—."
She held up a hand and interrupted him, "We already had that conversation." Her voice was shaky.
Don't lose the grip on yourself now. Now is not a good moment for that.
I know that!
Wait at least until you're alone in your new quarters.
YES! You're so annoying. As if I'd ever cry in front of Snape of all people. I can almost sense him glowering at me.
Have you forgotten—?
No, I haven't.
But—.
Not now. I've only just arrived.
"Words tend to have more meaning when they're spoken than when they're merely written down, don't they?"
Sariss shrugged. The subject was closed on her part.
"What kept you so long?" Dumbledore asked kindly when she didn't answer.
"Do you really have to ask? Look out the window. And I'm telling you, what you see out there is only the beginning. Farther east it's much worse—and I didn't even have a hand in it—not that I could deliberately have had a hand in it."
"That bad?"
"If you like to call hailstones as big as chicken eggs in September bad, then yes."
"I see. I'm glad you made it despite the ghastly weather."
"So am I."
"Perhaps you should take your seat. We're holding up the Sorting," he pointed out. "That was quite an entrance by the way."
"Sorry." She smirked.
"No problem. You gave some of the students quite a scare."
"I assure you, as always this was quite unintended."
"In some cases, however, that could prove an advantage…" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he said this and he smiled.
As if I needed a scary entrance to scare children…
"Well, if you say so," Sariss smiled back weakly, turning to greet the other professors, but was once more stopped by Dumbledore who whispered, "Be careful with Severus. He will not take it lightly that he has been denied the DADA post once again… But I already explained this to you—and him."
"Yes, you did. And I think I can handle him. After all, there has never been bad blood between Professor Snape and me."
Yet.
"I really hope you're up to it… You know his temper."
"I know my temper." His eyes twinkled strangely as she said this.
That said, Sariss moved to walk past Dumbledore, but felt a hand on her shoulder. Sariss turned around. "Professor Sprout, hello, sorry, I was a bit preoccupied…"
Time seemed to stand still at Hogwarts. The Herbology teacher still looked like she had… Was it already ten years?
"It's really nice to see you back here, Miss—Professor Ravon now, is it? You'll have to bear with me forgetting this." Sariss nodded and smiled slightly. "Say, you don't think you can give some students a bit of detention soon? The Venomous Tentaculas need some clipping…"
"Any preferences?" Sariss asked dryly. Professor Sprout must have found this incredibly funny since she grinned from ear to ear. Admittedly, it was funny in a certain respect when one left out a few of the things that had led to this particular detention for certain people Sariss had never been very fond of. That had been a long time ago…
"Just kidding—but nonetheless…"
"I understand," Sariss said and nodded once more at Professor Sprout and the other teachers on this side of the table—some of them she knew; others she did not know yet. Then she made her way around Dumbledore's chair towards tiny Professor Flitwick on whose chair had been set a wooden chest so he could look over the table and reach his goblet and plate as soon as the feast began.
"Miss Ravon," Flitwick squealed.
"Professor Flitwick." He grasped her hand and shook it energetically. When he let go he rubbed the hand he'd touched her with furiously with his other hand—Sariss knew her hands were as cold as ice; and not just because she had just walked through a thunderstorm and was still dripping wet—but thankfully his smile did not even waver.
"What a pleasant surprise it was when I heard that another one of my former students would be teaching here—oh, but then it's Professor Ravon… Anyway, very nice, very nice indeed."
Sariss returned his smile, remembering to cast a weak Drying Charm on herself. With a small wrist movement, she did so. The warmth of the Charm washed over her for a moment, drying her clothes—and then was gone as if it had never been there. It had always been like that.
"Lovely Charm-work, really," said tiny Professor Flitwick and Sariss's smile came without too much force.
"Good ter see yeh, li'l girl," said Hagrid's booming voice from the far end of the table.
"Hullo, Hagrid." He was still big and very hairy, exactly like he had been when Sariss had left Hogwarts. "Good to see you're well."
"Couldn't be better," he replied with a broad smile. It was hardly visible because of all that hair, but one could always see him smile when one looked at his eyes.
She still felt a bit uncomfortable with all this enthusiasm over her presence here—but in a certain respect, it was nice to have this feeling envelop her like a blanket—if only a very thin one…
However, about a second later, she didn't have to care about enthusiasm anymore, since Professor Severus Snape, her former Potions master and Head of House, stood and extended his hand towards her. She could tell it was a forced gesture. After Dumbledore's letter, she'd expected something like this. Snape did not take kindly to those who stole the position he'd desired for a very long time—but who would grant him his wish knowing that he had been a Death Eater once? Lead us not into temptation…
It must anger him beyond reason that he'd been denied the position as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher once more, because of a woman, a girl he'd once taught Potions. He was apparently a bit chauvinistic and narrow-minded when it came to the Dark Arts, wasn't he?
Did she blame him for that? She wasn't quite sure what to make of him.
He did have much experience in this particular area—but so did she now, even if it was from a different point of view…
"Miss Ravon," he said frostily.
"Professor Snape," she answered, accepting his hand.
He flinched at her touch and drew his hand back extremely quickly. To Sariss it felt as though she'd closed an electric circuit. Perhaps the static electricity of the thunderstorm had somehow put her hair on charge and then… No, since when did that happen to damp hair? She must have imagined it. Besides, it was stupid to even think there could be a natural explanation for Snape's so very visible flinch. The far more obvious reason was all too unnatural.
Don't show that he managed to make you—.
But he did.
Right, as if it wasn't enough that because of her position at Hogwarts she had become his natural enemy. Couldn't he have drawn back his hand a bit more subtly, without making her feel… repulsive? For a fraction of a second, she closed her eyes in defeat.
This was even worse than she had feared.
But the way he was looking at her now… He looked… startled, perhaps even a bit puzzled? Who could tell his expression?
Well, one thing's for sure. He guards his emotions well.
It's not as though you could really read them now, is it?
Unfortunately… Or fortunately.
Next chapter:
Snape's POV on Sariss, a flashback with my very own Sorting Hat song, a look at the usual quarters of a Hogwarts DADA teacher. Sariss holds her first lesson ever—and kind of likes it. And Harry feels that something's not quite right…