Author's note: Blaise, you're the best. *hugs* Especially for you (well, not exactly) I included another Potions lesson into this chapter. And Snape gets to be… well… snape-ish.
Chapter 5: A Wound Unhealing
Feel the presence all around
A tortured soul
A wound unhealing
—Savage Garden: You can still be free
Sariss ambled down the marble staircase, intending to head for the Great Hall. Dinner would be served; most likely, it had already started, taking into consideration that no student could be seen. When she had reached the foot of the stairs, she heard a voice.
"Miss Ravon?"
Severus Snape stepped out of the shadows. She looked at him, raising her eyebrows, thus prompting him to state his business.
"May I have a word with you?"
"What is it, Professor?" She cautiously narrowed her eyes at the vibrations that came from him. Suppressed anger. Not that that was so unusual—this was after all Snape!—but nonetheless… Was it directed at her?
Not good.
Be careful…
"Perhaps I should express myself a bit more clearly. May I have a word with you in my office?"
"Er… sure." And she followed him all the way down to the dungeons into his office.
He closed the office door behind them.
"Sit down, Miss Ravon," he said, indicating a chair. She did so. His voice had a tinge to it that left her no choice.
"Alright then, what is it, Professor?" She tried to sound casual.
"I found it considerably…" he began. "Considerably alarming how you undermine my authority."
What? What's he talking about?
I don't know. You haven't used up the last bit of fluxweed, have you?
I haven't even set foot into that damned dungeon of his!
"Excuse me?" Sariss was confused. What was this all about? She hadn't even—.
"The way you undermine my authority in your lessons."
"What?" Sariss racked her brain. What had she said or done that could have offended him? And, above all, how should he know about anything she might have said or done? She really had no idea what this was about. Sariss glanced up in confusion at the Potions master who was towering over her. A vein could be seen, throbbing at his temple. His black eyes glared down on her, boring into hers. She could see her reflection in his eyes.
If she had still been his student, he might have scared her. Well, not anymore. She simply glared back the same way he did.
"How clearly do I have to state it, so it penetrates this thick skull of yours?"
"A bit more clearly than that, thank you very much!" she hissed, getting angry. There was only so much she could take without throwing it back at him.
"What was it you said? 'Perhaps he should have consulted a certain book?'"
"Wha—?"
It dawned on her. Malfoy. Definitely Malfoy. He's exactly the type to run to his Head of House because of such a triviality. A typical Malfoy. The little—.
Sariss opened her mouth. For a second no sound would come out. Then she snorted; a part of her was suddenly highly amused at the absurdity of this conversation. "What?" she almost laughed. "You take me all the way down here to talk about a single sentence? A sentence I haven't wasted a second thought to since I said it, a sentence I don't even clearly remember saying?"
"Apparently, or so it seems, Miss Ravon, you haven't thought before you said it, either!" he hissed. "Are you thinking at all?"
"Oh, please! This is getting ridiculous!" She rolled her eyes in exasperation. She was about to get really angry. One pointed remark of his, one single wrongly phrased sentence, would be enough to make her explode.
"It is not! This is a matter of authority and respect, which I can't see you showing me."
"I'll display my respect towards you as soon as you show some towards me. Deal?"
"I can't remember when I haven't done so, Miss Ravon. I think I deserve it that you be a tinge more cooperative and thoughtful, if your temper should allow it, of course."
"My temper. There's something I haven't heard before. Not." Somehow, she still managed to keep calm and morbidly amused.
"I forgot to mention 'polite.'"
"I have been as polite as you could ever expect from me, considering the fact that you keep looking at me as though I were a bug." She was surprised at how calm she managed to sound. "Not even when I was a student you treated me like that. What the hell is wrong with you?"
"The question should rather be phrased 'What's wrong with you, Miss Ravon?'"
She flinched. Trust him to aim where it would hurt. And hurt it did.
"There's no more wrong with me than has always been—," she said softly, her voice trembling. She hated herself for it.
Trust this man to hit a nerve…
She only hesitated the fraction of a second before striking back. If he wanted to play dirty… "—apart from having the job you want, that is," Sariss's voice had considerably increased in volume, "as if it wasn't only logical—."
He interrupted her. "Damn right, I wanted it," he admitted, which was rather surprising. "But I know as well as you that I won't get it, alright? Least of all now. And this is not the point here anyway, Miss Ravon."
He simply keeps calling me 'Miss Ravon.'
It's your name, dear.
It is. But do I call him Mister Snape? That would be his name.
No…
See? He'd be quite displeased, too, if I said that.
Nice choice of words… Well, do it, then.
You've got to be kidding. He'd rip my head off.
As if he could.
Right. He probably wouldn't be able to… But he might try…
Now you're kidding.
Yes, I am. But if he 'Miss Ravon's me one more time I'll guarantee for nothing…
"And what is the point, if you'd be so kind as to let me in on it?" Sariss growled.
"Your lacking respect for me—or rather the complete absence thereof," he snarled back, glaring daggers at her as he had done for quite some time now.
"Hah! Listen to yourself!" Finally, she'd caught on what this was all about. "This is solely about your ego! I don't believe it!"
"It is solely about the fact that the students—."
"The students! This is about anything but the students. They don't care about what I said. They probably have forgotten it already! And they care no more for what you said than you care about them. They don't give a damn about you and you don't give a damn about anyone. You don't care what they think about you! You don't give a damn about anything but yourself!"
He looked a bit taken aback now. It was as if a mask had slipped over his face, over his emotional state. "Miss Ravon, I won't—."
However, now that Sariss had launched into a verbal attack, there was no stopping her. Everything that had irked her since she'd arrived at Hogwarts and mostly in the last few minutes surfaced suddenly and she couldn't hold it back, couldn't swallow her indignation any longer.
"And don't even try to tell me that what I just said isn't the truth! You may fool yourself, but you can't fool me. Not when I can sense you all too clearly now when you're alone with me. Everything else you might feel is being covered by this constant anger. You're so angry with everything around you and just because you're angry with yourself—."
"Enough! I'm not going to—."
"I know you, Professor Snape! Tell me one thing. Why does shame and self-loathing become cruelty?"
"Be careful what you're saying, Miss Ravon. I will not be spoken to like that!" he shouted.
"Don't Miss Ravon me!" she hissed. "I am a Professor, just like you are and no student you can bully around as you like! And you will treat me that way! All I'm goddamn trying to do is my job! Do you want me to write a bloody essay about what I might be intending to say tomorrow so you can approve of it, cross out what doesn't agree with you?!"
"You're skirting the issue, Miss—I only wanted to set things straight. It's—."
"And to do that you had to take me straight into—would it be too much of an exaggeration if I called it 'enemy territory' now?"
"Enemy territory! You can most certainly call my office that, now that this conversation has turned into an unpleasant argument!"
She had stood up while he said this and glared at him now with a look that could have melted all the glaciers that covered the surface of the earth within an instant. "That would have required a conversation first, of which there wasn't the slightest trace. Unpleasant, my foot," she spat.
"How was I supposed to know that you possess such small an amount of self-control? Can't take any criticism, can we?"
"We most certainly can take criticism as long as it's constructive and not just there for the sole reason that you feel that something has been taken from you by me, although, at closer inspection, that can't be quite right, can it?" Oh, yes, she could play dirty, too. "Can't bear to hear the truth spelt out, can we?"
"Miss Ravon, has anybody ever told you that you have exactly the temper to turn every halfway civilized argument into a highly nasty and unpleasant row?" Snape snarled.
"Halfway civilized…" she muttered. "Perhaps it wouldn't have become half as unpleasant with other people around. It would certainly have cooled your temper!"
And thus mine, too.
Their eyes had locked during the last sentence. Sariss tried not to blink. This was like staring out a Hippogriff… until it got scared and rose into the air…
The tension could have been cut with a knife.
When Snape opened his mouth—most certainly to yell at her again, which she couldn't stand; she couldn't bear being shouted at since—no don't think about that now—a noise of shattering glass could be heard. Several glasses. Quite a lot, actually. Sariss winced. So did he.
And—using the distraction—she rushed past the Potions master, all but ripped the door from its hinges, walked out and slammed it shut in a way that must have rocked the very foundations of the castle.
Sariss was furious. It hadn't been much of a problem, yet she had exploded—well, made something explode, to be accurate. How could she not? With that man near, how could she not lose it? How could she not react to his anger?
Deciding that she'd rather not cross anybody's path before her temper had cooled down a bit, she made her way out of the castle and took off in direction of the lake. She ignored the fact that it was raining, not only raining but pouring cats and dogs—fortunately an expression that was not taken literally, not even in the wizarding world.
Once she'd arrived there, she slumped to the ground, gasping for air since she'd been running, and buried her face in her hands, her hair falling down all around her, the magically created bun coming undone, soaked, and heavy with rainwater.
She shouldn't have let him make her lose control. She never wanted something like that to happen. Snape was mentally as scarred as she. That shouldn't have happened. On Sariss's part, it had been completely unintended. How was she supposed to fix this tremendous mistake? How could she ever try to make it undone? How was she supposed to look him in the eye now?
As always. You won't look him in the eye. You never did. Well, up until a short time ago.
Why did I have to shout back? I never did. I don't do that.
It was not only your fault. He had a much greater say in the matter. He should have let you explain, at least. You could have come to an agreement, I'm sure.
As if that was of any importance now. How am I supposed to behave around him, now that everything's… I don't know.
Sariss sighed heavily.
After several minutes, the rain fell more softly and a light breeze tore the veil of clouds and made them make way for a gentle evening red, as the rain stopped entirely.
The surface of the lake was once again completely undisturbed and peaceful, as flat and even as the surface of a mirror.
And Sariss, too, had composed herself, forced herself into a calmness. She felt exhausted.
And empty.
~*~*~
Severus Snape had stared after her for some fairly long moments.
"What was that?" he asked himself and shook his head. Was that what he had expected? What had he expected at all? That time had stood still for this girl in the meantime? That life hadn't played cruel tricks on her like it had to anyone else? Perhaps even more? He could remember some of them.
The Daily Prophet had reported enough on Auror missions. She had quite a way with her wand—and without it, too. She had rid the world of some of the worst Death Eaters Severus had ever known. He had to grant her that. He had thought she'd liked the rush of power that overwhelmed you when you cast the Killing curse—although in recent times it was hardly recorded how a Death Eater met his or her untimely end. Thus, it was only an assumption of Severus's. But as a matter of fact, she had resigned because of that curse—or so he had read. He remembered the article now. But only because it had been devastation beyond anything until the Aurors had come.
Severus was still grateful that he hadn't been there that day.
Actually, he hadn't really known that it had been her when he had read the article. The names of the involved Aurors were always kept secret so as not to give the Dark side any ideas.
But Severus had learnt to read between the lines, and Dumbledore had confirmed that it had been her. As Severus perceived it, she had been writing to him on a regular basis, not very often but regularly. The old man would have been concerned otherwise. But she regarded it merely as a necessity to kill the Death Eaters.
What else are we supposed to do if they don't surrender and keep cursing everything and everyone around them? Ask them for a second time and be killed in the process? I don't want to kill them, Professor Dumbledore. I try not to. If only it weren't so hard to let go only a little. It always gets out of hand… I always get out of hand…
That summed it up. Dumbledore had read that excerpt of one of her letters to him. "I'm only glad that she sees it that way," he'd said.
And then Dumbledore had offered her the currently deepest desire of Severus's heart (—not that he'd looked in the Mirror of Erised recently).
The Dark Arts.
Severus should have grown used to that by now. And indeed, he had. He even accepted it. But did he have to like it?
Severus made his way up towards the Astronomy Tower. He needed to think. And that was done best on an empty stomach and far away from those noisy and annoying students. They were having dinner just now. He'd have some peace and quiet up there. And a lot of fresh late evening air.
It was raining outside. So he'd get wet. Who cared? The nights weren't too cold as of yet.
When Dumbledore had informed him about the fact that Sariss Ravon would be taking the position of the Defence Against the Dark Art teacher he had been sceptic. Yes, she was good at what she did, perhaps too good—but DADA? Teaching?
Strange how he still had the image of a small pale child before his eyes when he thought about her, a child in need of protection—and not inspiring any protectiveness in anyone—anyone but Dumbledore. The old man had seen a little girl that had just lost the last of her family to the hands of a creature that must have appeared like a living nightmare to her. A little girl. A child. Although a child unlike any other. To Dumbledore she'd been special instantly. To Severus she'd been a student, not to be treated any different from the way he usually treated his Slytherins—better than the others, but no different from each other.
A mere child.
That might have been the reason why she had freaked out that easily, the fact that she had felt he had treated her like a disobedient child, which he had indeed, now that he thought about it…
She had been a student when he'd only started teaching at Hogwarts, a small, thin, quiet and a bit lonely seeming child—although she'd had two friends who were always somewhere near her. She had constantly been absorbed in a book whenever he saw a glimpse of her. And she had also been a very good student, showing a great deal of talent at Potions bordering on brilliance. Yet, her behaviour was still quite unlike what one expected of a Slytherin. Unusual.
Even as a child she'd had a very strange aura around her that wouldn't let her go unnoticed—and he had a feeling she'd tried very hard to keep a low profile, only speaking up when asked, never looking into his eyes not even for a second to show that he had her attention. She'd kept her eyes averted but her answers where profound and came without hesitation when he asked her a question. How had she managed to look at his face yet not meeting his gaze?
He'd always thought that child was a mystery, for the seven years he'd taught her in Potions, he had never been able to find out what was just not completely right. He admitted he had not paid very much attention, not any more than he had paid the others. Only when he'd become Head of Slytherin House and he'd tried to know his students better—after all, now they were his students and not just any students anymore—he'd noticed her particular behaviour.
He'd told Dumbledore so and asked about her and her family; she was in his house after all. Dumbledore, however, had only smiled and refused to answer. He'd smiled that knowing smile that always managed to make Severus suspicious that the old man knew too much for his own good and also kept way too many secrets…
But now the little girl had grown up. Severus hadn't been prepared for… that. The sharp contrast between the slightly reserved little girl and the… grown-up woman, emanating an air of power that confused him—she must have hidden a great deal of her aura when at school—it confused him just like what had happened when he'd touched her hand on 1st September…
And he hadn't been prepared for her temper either. Once, in her first year at school, he had shouted at her for making something break, an obvious accident actually. Malfoy, Seth Malfoy that is, had made her freak out that way; Severus only learnt about that later. The boy had constantly been teasing her and pulled pranks on her that bordered on cruelty sometimes. The boy had enjoyed every single time Sariss had lost it and broke something doing spontaneous magic. Severus couldn't even give him detention in most cases. He had to keep up his Death Eater reputation among that lot, particularly around the people related to or associated with the Malfoy family. Severus had only wondered how Sariss had managed not to make Seth explode…
But that had been later. The day Malfoy had made her freak out in Potions class had been one hell of a day. One of those days when he could kill someone for breathing too loud, for smiling too broadly. Simply a very bad day from the moment he had woken up.
The Dark Mark had twitched constantly, like toothache. It did that sometimes—at least when it was livid. Usually it was only annoying, but that day it had been different. He couldn't make it go away by ignoring it. Thus, Severus had been in an extremely bad mood that day. The smallest things could drive him up the wall on days like that. And thus, he had yelled something at her. He didn't even remember what it had been. What he did remember, now that he recalled the memory, was that she had covered her face with her hands and had trembled from head to toe, rocking back and forth, not reacting to what Severus said then (which he didn't remember either), but recoiling when he reached for the little girl's shoulder (that, he did remember… all too clearly), only calming down when the girl sitting next to her gently patted her back and told her to take deep breaths so as not to break something else.
It had been a very awkward situation. For everyone present.
When he had spoken to Dumbledore about it (the man had all but adopted her, after all), the headmaster had told him that being yelled at was more or less the only way to really scare her. A trauma she'd suffered on that certain day that had been as dark for the wizarding world as the night the Potters died… Severus couldn't blame her for that. Even back then he had more than known about the incident that had caused it. It was more than understandable that she couldn't bear raised voices. That and negative feelings… A really bad combination when in the proximity of the little fearful girl, that was.
From that day on, Severus had been more careful around her than before, guarding his feelings, too. Not once had he raised his voice against her after that. Hell, he'd barely looked at her for weeks!
And now, he had forgotten everything he'd ever learnt about her and shouted at her, not even holding back his anger. No wonder that it had been a shattered-glass-situation. But this time she had stood up against the one yelling at her. This time she'd hit back, if only verbally. She had quite a way with words, that one. Her words stung like knives when she wanted to. She'd learnt to strike back. No retreat, no surrender anymore. She was in control.
What a change. What a difference. What a temper.
Severus had arrived at the platform. As the Astronomy Tower was the tallest tower of the castle, he could overlook almost all of Hogwarts' grounds, mainly to the south but also parts of the Forbidden Forest to the east and a corner of the Quidditch pitch to the west. But what he mainly saw was the lake.
The rain wasn't falling so heavily anymore; indeed, after another minute or so it stopped entirely. That was good. Severus preferred it nice and dry—although if he left a trail of puddles behind on his way down, Filch would certainly find some students to—.
Wait a second. There was something black down at the lakeshore, near the cliffs.
A human shape. Severus strained his eyes and shielded them from the setting sun that drenched the few remaining clouds in a reddish orange.
The figure rose. It had been sitting before…
It was she! Had she run out into the rain? Well, of course she had. There was his proof. But why? To calm down? Yes, calm down and catch a ghastly cold. Silly girl. Whenever did that girl think before she did something?
You really want her to think? When it was you who started it in the first place?
She deserved it.
Did she now?
Shut up. I'm trying to ignore her.
She made her way back towards the castle. The closer she came the more clearly Severus could see that her shoulders were slumped, her steps heavy.
Somehow, a small forgotten part of him felt almost sorry.
Almost.
~*~*~
Sariss awoke in the early morning hours and checked the time and date. It was 4:12 am on 5th September. It was her twenty-seventh birthday. She stared at the ceiling.
The memories came down heavily on her…
It had happened exactly seventeen years ago. Her tenth birthday had been the day everything had fallen apart. She didn't remember everything that had happened way back then anymore, but she remembered enough to fill her supply of nightmares in abundance. Fortunately, the dreams had stopped a few years ago—well, almost. They had come less and less frequently… and less and less distinct. But no matter how they diminished, her cursed birthday arrived inevitably.
Regarding her state of mind, the argument with Snape the day before hadn't been very helpful either. Fortunately, Sariss wasn't very receptive to catching a cold. Otherwise she would have caught one, considering the fact how long she had been sitting there at the lake, letting the monstrous powers she had, flow into the air, into the water, making the rain fall all the harder, the surface of the lake seemingly whipped and lashed violently by her mere concentration not to let it get out of hand. She could very well have caused an earthquake. Her mind had been in such turmoil; she might very well have destroyed the beautiful Scottish landscape. With a mere thought, she could have done so. Not really with a conscious thought. Not willingly. She never caused those things willingly. The worst things just happened. She felt it coming when it would happen. And straining against it with all her might, she could rein it in, force it back, at least most of the times. Dumbledore had shown her how to accomplish that. Somehow, it was easier for a short while, when she had let go, even if for only an instant.
Pondering over past events that better lay forgotten, Sariss drifted off to sleep again, a thankfully dark and dreamless sleep.
Later that day, at breakfast, no one mentioned the fact that it was her birthday. The lessons went by smoothly. So did the rest of the day. Of course, it would. After all, Sariss did not even deign to look at Snape out of the corner of her eye. It was so easy to simply act as though he weren't sitting right beside her at the high table, as though he didn't exist at all. An eerie quietness settled over her…
When she put on her nightgown that evening, Sariss was grateful that Dumbledore hadn't insisted on celebrating her birthday. So he still remembered that she'd always thought of her birthday as nothing that would deserve any kind of celebration or even noticing. He seemed to have told the other teachers, too—or maybe they remembered on their own—since nobody made a fuss about her, for which she was eternally grateful.
That night, she went to bed with the thought that another year had thankfully passed.
And the following days and nights went by just as quickly. Getting up, dressing, attending the meals, teaching lessons, grading essays. A regular, steady, only slightly changing schedule every day. No unpleasant surprises. Some other people would have found it boring, this feeling of non-existent change. To Sariss it was soothing to be back at Hogwarts. She'd had her share of variation, of adventure, of danger, of war against the Dark side. If only she could get her hands on Voldemort and have her revenge, simply get it over with. Now it was not only for herself as it had been for years. Now it was also for Rick and Rory. If it hadn't been for the Dark Lord…
No. Don't go back there. Not even in your mind. You're fine here. This has always been your home. You're at home. Don't think about a war you're no longer an active part of. You've fought enough battles.
And I'm still fighting. Against myself. Against Snape.
It still irks you? That argument?
I don't know why. It's just that… I don't know. I don't feel so good about the things I said to him.
He deserved every single word.
You think so?
Oh yes.
Perhaps I should speak to Professor Dumbledore one day or the other. What do you think?
If you think that makes it better.
He's the only one I can talk to openly. The only one who understands. The only one left alive.
Sleep now. You're becoming sad and depressed again. That's not so good and you know it. The utter silence, the emptiness…
It's sometimes so loud… But the emotional echoes reverberating inside my head don't feel too good either. I don't know what's better. Silence or this constant pressure of other people's emotions.
Does pretending not to feel anything yourself make it easier?
It never did. Not really… Oh gods, I must remember to get myself some Sleeping Potion. The minutes before falling asleep are just too dark and lonely…
~*~
Sariss was woken up by a soft hand smoothing over her hair, a voice whispering her name.
She opened her eyes. A face looked back at her. A beautiful face with large green-brown eyes and reddish brown curls falling slightly past the woman's shoulders. "Hmm? Mum?"
"Happy Birthday, honey. Look what I've got for you."
Sariss sat up, a bit confused. Was this really happening? But the woman smiled and Sariss simply looked at her and said nothing.
"Sariss? Are you alright?"
"Yes, I am." She smiled back at her mother, throwing her arms around her. "What is it, Mum?" Sariss was a bit startled at the fact that her voice sounded so small and young. But wasn't that normal? Wasn't she a ten-year-old girl?
Her mother handed her a letter with a seal. An address was written on it with green ink. "The letter from Hogwarts," they said in unison.
"In a bit less than a year you will go there and be safe at last."
There was a flash, colours whirled past, voices spoke and fell silent again; the feeling was similar to the one you got when you used a Portkey—and Sariss found herself sitting at the table, a small cake in front of her, a single candle on it. The icing on the cake read 'Happy 10th Birthday'—and Sariss realized that she was dreaming this…
"Make a wish," the woman that was her mother said.
Sariss looked at her for a second. Then she obeyed, closed her eyes, took a deep breath and wished that for once in her life it would turn out different from what she knew.
It wouldn't. It never did.
The door burst open. The candle went out. And a hooded figure walked in.
"No, not you, not now," Sariss's mother said, brandishing her wand, pulling Sariss after her and pushing her behind her to shield her from the figure's view. (Sariss suddenly noticed that she was indeed very small, a child. This was so confusing. Some part of her realized that this wasn't really happening, was it? It had already happened. This was not real—and yet it felt like it…)
Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. Sariss saw the figure draw its hood back, thus revealing its horrible face, and speak to her mother. The girl only stared at the face, those gruesome eyes, the skin that had a leathery look to it, the thin lips that curled in a twisted smile.
Then he looked at Sariss and the little girl that had been clinging automatically to her mother crawled away into the farthest corner of the room.
"No! You can't have her!" the woman shouted and launched herself at him.
"Mum!" Sariss screamed, tears running down her face, frantically scanning the room for something to defend her mother and herself with, for an exit that was not blocked by the horrible figure that was now looming over her mother pointing his wand at her.
"If that's what you want," he said casually, "Avada Kedavra!"
A flash of green light illuminated the room as the woman slumped to the ground. "Mum! No! Mum!" Sariss sobbed, stopping dead in her tracks to get to her mother when the figure started to approach her. The man reached out for her with his claw-like hands…
And Sariss screamed and screamed. At the top of her lungs she screamed for her mother, anyone who would hear her…
~*~
Sariss jerked awake, her breath coming in shallow gasps, her own scream echoing inside her head or even her bedroom. She could not tell. And it didn't matter. It was the same. "Only a dream. It was only a dream…" She wiped the tears from her face and slumped back into the pillows, absent-mindedly registering that her nightgown was drenched in cold sweat, and stared at the ceiling. "Only a dream—again," she whispered hollowly and made a mental note to get her hands on some Dreamless Sleep Potion as soon as possible. "Only a dream… After all those years…"
~*~*~
It seemed that Double Potions would never end that day. Snape was glaring even at the students of his own house. Malfoy looked extremely nervous about that, which prevented him from adding to Neville's confusion. Poor Neville was having trouble to get his potion to thicken. It seemed that he'd never get that right. Usually Malfoy would gloat and tell Neville to add this and that ingredient to make it better—and, desperate as he was during those parts of the lessons, a panicking Neville would forget that it was Malfoy who was advising him to do that and… Well, let's just say that the consistency of the potion would then be the least of Neville's problems.
Not today though. Although Neville was still having slight difficulties, there was at least no Malfoy to trick him into losing Gryffindor twenty house points.
Hermione had been keeping an eye on Neville's potion, too, although she couldn't tell him what to do—and she had a hard time not to. But Snape looked like the first Gryffindor who'd dare interrupt his lecture on the properties of the potion they were brewing would be force-fed some of Neville's unstable Engorging potion.
However, as Neville tried to get his potion to thicken, he seemed to have reached for the wrong ingredient. Harry knew that it wasn't the right one, but it had to be an extremely wrong one because Hermione did something very stupid (at least it was stupid when you knew Snape's mood that day). Fortunately, Snape was just writing something on the blackboard. Hermione gestured for Neville to please not add it. But as Neville wasn't looking in her direction, that was useless.
"Neville, don't!" Harry shouted.
Too late. Whatever Neville had thrown into the almost acceptable potion made it bubble violently at first, and then the cauldron's content went up and splattered the whole ceiling, dripping down in large khaki-coloured gooey drops. Fortunately, the potion didn't seem to serve another purpose than to look like mud and be of extremely gooey consistence.
A cruel and strangely satisfied smile was lingering on Professor Snape's face when he said, "Potter, you've just volunteered to help Longbottom clean up this mess. And twenty points from Gryffindor. Each."
Harry knew better than to object.
"But Professor Snape," Ron said unwisely. "We've got Quidditch practice scheduled for—."
"You may assist Messrs Potter and Longbottom then. I'm sure you'll manage to survive this evening without your know-it-all Potions assistant," Snape drawled and smirked. "Oh, and another twenty points from Gryffindor."
Hermione looked furious. Malfoy looked extremely satisfied. And poor Neville looked extremely downtrodden and ashamed.
"And I want to see three rolls of parchment on the uses of Engorgement potion—," Snape added, "—and don't you dare make bad jokes about its more vulgar uses. It's illegal to use them in that particular way anyway." He threw a look in direction of the Slytherins.
Ron had to suppress a snigger and quickly set to work on some of the gooey substance so that Snape wouldn't notice.
"Class dismissed. You three clean that up—However, if Miss Granger would like to speak in your defence? There's plenty of goo for everyone. One wouldn't believe that Longbottom's cauldron can hold so much garbage if one hadn't seen it for oneself."
What had gotten into Snape that day? Had he had to be present at a Death Eater meeting? Or was he just trying to compensate something else? Maybe he was merely enjoying himself? As it seemed to be his favourite pastime to bully his Gryffindor students around, the latter option seemed like the most likely one to Harry.
Be that as it may, the man's state of mind didn't seem very stable. Better not annoy Snape when he was in that mood.
"No, Professor Snape," Hermione said, apparently or so it seemed reading Harry's thoughts. She appeared calm and was overly polite now.
Snape raised an eyebrow as though he were prompting her to put a toe out of line.
She didn't give him that satisfaction.
"If I may leave, Professor?" she asked formally.
Snape jerked his head in direction of the exit. "Go."
After another sneer in Harry's direction, he swished into his office. Harry heard the door close.
Two hours later and aching roundabout everywhere, the three Gryffindors were finally dismissed as the dungeon was sufficiently clean—although not shiny. In essence: Just as usual.
"I'm sorry, guys," said Neville, when they had put a bit of distance between themselves and Snape. He was blushing to the roots of his brown hair. "I'd do anything to not have to take Potions lessons anymore."
"Don't mention it, Neville," said Ron, rubbing his aching back and moaning.
"I'm not getting it," said Harry. "How can you be so good at Herbology and then blow up your cauldron all the time? You know your ingredients, Neville."
"I know them when I'm in the greenhouses. I can't even remember their names when I'm in the dungeons."
"Then you seem to have a bit of a psychological problem here."
"The problem is Snape," said Ron. "You almost had the potion right, this time. If someone could have told you…"
"I'm not daft. Snape has a bad day. Even Malfoy left me alone because of that. And you two shouldn't have stood up for me. I caused the trouble and I should have been the one to clean it up."
"We were trying to help you, Neville."
"And I'm grateful for that. But I need to get through this alone. The N.E.W.Ts will be soon and I'm already revising Potions. I won't be known as the one student who left Hogwarts without even a beginner's level N.E.W.T at Potions."
"So that's why your potion was almost done. You had already read up on that one."
"Yes, but as I've already said, as soon as I'm in the dungeons and Professor Snape expects me to fail…" He sighed. "I fail."
"Heads up, Neville," Harry said encouragingly.
"Yeah, Neville, look at it that way: One day you might blow up Snape!" Ron said cheerfully. "Purely accidentally of course."
Neville sniggered despite himself.
~*~*~
Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny had been invited to visit Hagrid for tea some time or other. They agreed to do that Sunday afternoon when everyone—even Ron—had finished their homework for the next week.
It was half past four—the perfect time for tea—when they left the castle and strolled down the lawn towards Hagrid's hut.
The pumpkins in the garden next to the hut came along nicely. They were already about four times as big as the Quaffle. On Hallowe'en, they'd be downright huge and thus part of the decoration in the Great Hall. Hagrid must be using some sort of magic on them. As he was officially allowed to do magic since Dumbledore had appointed him Care of Magical Creatures teacher, there were no more speculations as to the opposite. Harry presumed that there must be Charmed seedlings or some kind of magical fertilizer that would have the same effect, but those fruits were the result of several carefully cast Engorgement Charms.
Fang was nowhere to be seen. He usually lounged near the door, enjoying the sun and jumping up whenever someone he knew came towards his master's home. Not so today. Was Hagrid not at home?
Harry knocked anyway and after a few moments, he could hear Hagrid's thundering footsteps approach the door. So he was at home after all.
It opened.
"Oh, hullo, everyone. Come inside…" He gestured for them to come in and threw the door shut.
They were not his only guests.
Professor Ravon was sitting at the table, looking much less formal without the black wizard's robe she usually wore during the lessons. She could have been a student; so young did she look with her hair plaited into a simple braid and wearing a rose-patterned cream-coloured dress instead of her usual black one. It was strange to see something of a different colour than black on her.
Fang had his huge head on her thigh and visibly enjoyed being cuddled and stroked by the for once genuinely smiling woman. She was pretty when she smiled. When the smile was a real one.
"You were expecting more guests?" she asked not unkindly. "Hullo."
"Good afternoon, Professor," said Ginny and Hermione.
For reasons that were still beyond him, Harry settled for a casual "Hi."
Ron forced a smile and nodded in greeting. Harry still couldn't quite understand why Ron was so suspicious about her.
"If it's inconvenient now, Hagrid, we could come back later…" Hermione began.
"Yeah, we wouldn't mind, really," said Harry almost at the same time.
"No. No way," Professor Ravon said. "You stay. Right, Hagrid?"
"Well…"
"I need to leave anyway," she said, giving Fang another pat on his head. "Get off me, Fang… That's it. It was nice, Hagrid. Thank you. I hope we'll repeat this often."
"Sure. 'S jus' like ol' times," Hagrid answered.
Professor Ravon got up, nodded at the half giant, and turned to leave. As she went to walk past the students, she said, "I hope you've finished your homework first." She winked. After all, the Defence Against the Dark Arts essay was to be handed in the following day.
Everyone nodded.
"Good. Then I'll be seeing you in good spirits. Bye, everyone." She put on her cloak. "See you at dinner, Hagrid."
She smiled at him one more time and then closed the door behind her.
"We could have dropped in another day instead, Hagrid," said Ron.
"'S alright, really," Hagrid said. "Cup o' tea, anyone? Sit down, will yeh?"
"D'you know her well, Hagrid?" Harry asked after a while when everyone had a cup of tea and a plate with cookies was set before them. Of course, everyone present had learnt by then that it was better not to eat anything solid Hagrid offered. It was simply too solid. Like rock.
"Who?" he asked back, chewing on a cookie.
"Professor Ravon."
"Sariss? O' course. 'S bin not tha' long a time tha' she was a student herself. An' now look at her. Teachin' jus' like meself. Grown up, me li'l one."
"What was she like?" Ginny asked.
"Well, lonely, even when her bes' friends were with her. But funny. Has a great sense o' humour, really," he said. "But she scares yeh, don' she?"
Ron looked uncomfortable. "Um…"
"Only a bit," said Harry.
"Always had tha' problem," Hagrid explained. "Would've scared me too if Fang hadn' adored her from the firs' day on. Animals are cleverer than mos' people sometimes. Well, if they're given a chance. She had a small problem with ol' Professor Kettleburn's lessons. Got suspended 'cause some creatures got nervous. Hit her hard."
"You tell me," Ron muttered. "When she looks at you, it's as if… I don't know if there's something that feels remotely like it."
"I know what you mean," said Ginny, and Hermione nodded her agreement. "But I think you'll get used to that feeling soon. It's not that she'd have given anyone the impression that she'd rip their heads off, right? Well, perhaps that's not quite right. Rumour has it that she almost ripped someone's head off," she muttered thoughtfully. "Not that it would bother any of us."
"What? Who? Why?" came from the others.
"Haven't you heard?"
"What?" Harry asked.
"The rumour goes that Professor Ravon and Snape had quite a row. Only a rumour, mind you. Some Slytherin first-year supposedly heard them quarrelling in the dungeons when he or she had got lost down there on their way to dinner and was late. He or she overheard them."
"That explains why Snape's been so grumpy recently," Ron said.
"Not that that would be something new," Hermione said.
"Sariss had a row with Snape?" Hagrid repeated. "Wonder why she hasn' told me… But yer right. Snape's bin 'specially grumpy the past days. Almos' thought You Know Who was up ter somethin'—but yeh shouldn' know tha'."
"But we do, Hagrid," Harry said. "And if the Dark Mark is as much of a nuisance as my scar is…"
"'S even more than tha'," said Hagrid. "But don' let's talk about tha' no more." Fang gave a bark as though he whole-heartedly agreed with him. "How's yer summer, Harry? The Dursleys bin not too horrible, I hope?"
"Now that's something, I'd rather not talk about," said Harry. "And the list seems to get longer every passing day."
"I know," Hagrid sighed. "Poor Josie. Could've flown with the Wimbourne Wasps after her graduation. Looked good on her broomstick…" He trailed off and sniffed.
"Looks like we can't even talk about Quidditch anymore without mentioning You-Know-Who at some point or other," said Hermione.
"Well," Ginny began slowly, apparently looking for a safe topic—and finding it. "What do you have in store for us this year, Hagrid? A Manticore?"
Hagrid chuckled. "Yeh don' think I'd bring such a dangerous creature here, do yeh?"
The four students gave him looks that expressed everything.
"Oh, well, guess yeh do… But honestly, I've bin pullin' some strings fer a few weeks already ter be able ter show yeh a very rare beast. Not too dangerous if yeh know how ter treat it. I can hardly wait ter see yer faces."
"I've just discovered that I'm quite the patient one. I'm not so keen on seeing the thing," Ron muttered to Harry. "Let's just hope it's not Aragog."
Next chapter:
A Hogsmeade weekend. Sariss has a little chat with Hagrid over a Butterbeer and remembers the good old times while giving Snape the silent treatment. And Snape prowls around the castle, stumbling upon a certain mirror, and accompanies Dumbledore to his office for a little chitchat.