A/N: WOW! I HAVE REVIEWS!
Thank you so much to Shattered Destiny, coolspot, MCMish and Phoenix-
daughter (who has also bravely accepted the position of Beta).
I apologise for the slow update, and am warning that it may be a while before the next chapter - A-levels and UCAS getting me down!
And now, to the story.
Chapter Six: Confrontations
In the run-up to Halloween, the school was starting to buzz with excitement. The third years would finally get their first glimpse of Hogsmeade and everyone, in general, was looking forward to the feast. Well, almost everyone. Hecate Aiwe was still unhappy, and the approaching festivities were making her more so. Not that she would be celebrating in the same sort of way she had at home, but she would be forced into a situation where everyone else would be happy and she would be left with memories. Memories which brought nothing but pain.
She wandered, only semi-conscious of the route that she was taking back to the dungeons as she herself was lost in thought, through the hallways of Hogwarts, attempting to recite the list of curses that she had learnt in the last week, in alphabetical order. It was not too hard, since she had only managed one or two a day - her stamina was wavering, though she wouldn't admit it. Suddenly, with a thud, she found herself on the floor, her book-bag burst and contents dispersed throughout the surrounding area. In front of her, in the process of getting to his feet, was a rather angry- looking potions master. Hecate cringed. "Sorry, Professor. Didn't see you there." Snape took one look at her, waved his wand at the mess on the floor - which instantly re-organised itself - and motioned her to stand. "Please come with me, Miss Aiwe."
He walked silently ahead of her all the way to his office, whence he opened the door and gestured her inside. Once they were both seated, he began: "Miss Aiwe, I'm afraid that we have a problem." "I haven't done anything to Malfoy." she started quickly, but he waved a hand in silence. This fact in itself wasn't exactly true, since there was the incident where she had transformed the buttons-that-had-previously-been- beetles back to their original form and slipped them (with a cunning levitation charm) into Malfoy's dinner. But nobody knew about that one.
"I have not called you here to discuss Mr Malfoy. though perhaps that conversation can be held at a later date." "Oh. So. what did you want?" "The staff and I have become rather worried about your current state of health." "Is this because of my grades? Because I can get them back up, I swear!" "If it were just your grades, then there would be little problem. First- years often slip a bit once they have settled in and the work gets harder. And your current grades are still very good, though your percentile in Potions is now in the low nineties." He took a breath, trying to get his thoughts back on track. "I came to find you, because Professor Flitwick just gave me your most recent Charms essay." "What was wrong with my essay?" Hecate shot, a previously dimmed fire flaring behind her dark eyes. "Professor Flitwick assured me that he was certain that it was of the highest quality, however he could not grade the paper, since to almost everyone in the castle it proved illegible." Snape produced her essay, and Hecate immediately saw the problem. Had she really written her entire essay in Runes? Surely she would remember doing so. With a slight smile, Snape added, "Professor Togram said it deserved full marks - although she admitted to only being able to translate a vague idea of the meaning without a dictionary." "I'm sorry, Professor, it won't happen again." She looked at the floor as she spoke the words very quickly. "I know it won't, because you are going to do something about your attitude to work." Hecate looked shocked. As far as she could tell, there was nothing wrong with her attitude - she got all her work done in plenty of time to a perfect standard. Sure, she had started sleeping later than usual over the last couple of weeks and her class notes were less detailed where her mind wandered in lessons, but all her homework was done. "I know that you think there is nothing wrong with your attitude, but I assure you, there is one fatal flaw." "What's that, Professor?" "You have forgotten to relax."
Hecate paled even further, if that was possible with the already sickly pallor of her cheeks, at the mention of relaxation. "I know that you are never seen doing anything but work, whether in your dorm, the common room or the library. You rarely turn up to meals, and when you do, you are working still." Tears began to smear her vision as he continued to speak. "It is not healthy, and if it doesn't stop, we are going to have to take some drastic measures." Hecate glared at her teacher through the tears that were ready to fall. She knew why she couldn't stop, but did she dare tell him that? "Yes, professor." She mumbled, wet streams trailing her cheeks. He looked at her and there was a sadness in his eyes. "I expect to see you at all meals in the future, young lady, and you must make sure to set aside at least a half hour a day for yourself." He moved his arm slightly towards her, as if to put it on her shoulder, but thought better of it and pulled back. Instead, he quickly turned and started fiddling around in a cupboard, muttering to himself. There was a triumphant "Aha!" and he turned, smile quickly drawn back into his familiar scowl, presenting his student with a bar of Honeydukes' finest. "Albus always makes sure I have some chocolate." Seeing the scandalised look on Hecate's face, the merry twinkle quickly left his eyes. "Professor Dumbledore insists that chocolate will cure almost anything. Eat up." Once the entire bar had been consumed, Hecate was allowed to return to her common room.
She had been on her way to the common room to hide-out the lunch break, but now thought it wiser to turn tail and make an appearance in the Great Hall. She arrived with the main throng of students, and made her way over to her house table. She didn't eat much, since she was feeling rather ill from the vast quantities of chocolate she had just consumed, but she made sure that her head of house saw her eat. After only a few minutes, she left the room.
From his seat, Professor Snape nodded in acknowledgement as she settled as far away from the student populous as was possible in the crowded hall. He noticed her make sure that he was watching before each mouthful, and was surprised that she ate as much as she did after he had given her that chocolate. He wasn't especially pleased when she left so quickly, but at least she had had some lunch. He would give it a week before making sure that she was getting better.
For the rest of the week, she made certain to attend every meal, and to only have one of her 'fun' books with her. This was a vast improvement on the past few weeks, and by Thursday, she was beginning to feel better - once more waking up with the sun and managing to perfect up to four curses a day - of course, this was done in strictest secrecy. She had even followed Snape's advice, and set aside a full half hour every morning for herself. It had taken her almost two days to figure out how to do something 'relaxing' and still occupy her mind. In the end, she settled for a half- hour vigorous exercise regime - it exhausted her (so her mind wasn't able to wander) but at the same time made her feel energised and able to face the day.
But she still made no effort to make friends.
On the morning of Halloween, Hecate woke early, settling into her new routine of exercise in the common room, shower and one-new-curse-before-the- others-wake-up, and forcing herself to forget the date. By the time that Pansy made her way out of the bedroom to start her daily Hecate-baiting - well, staring disgustedly from the stairway at her back as she was hunched over a book and ignoring her; it was the closest that Pansy would get to actually baiting her, since she was terrified of the repercussions (everyone below fifth year was, to some degree, scared of her, and everyone else generally avoided her) - the dark haired girl had gone.
Hecate made her way down to breakfast early, and was the first to arrive at the Great Hall. On the way, she met no one, as it was (even by her own standards) exceptionally early to be going to breakfast. And yet, she was not tired - Snape's theory had been correct, and though she was not about to set any time aside for 'recreational procrastination', now that she had begun eating properly and getting enough sleep, she did feel better. At the top of the dungeon stairs, she found herself facing the large double doors into the hall. As far as she could see, there were no students dining this early. Stepping forward, she leaned against the heavy oak and was confronted with decorations that had not been there the night before. Everybody said that the evening Halloween feast was wonderful and well decorated, and it was not uncommon for the more complex, less noticeable decorations to be put up before the feast, but it wasn't even six am! Unable to forget any longer about the date, and upset by the painful memories that it brought up, she fled. She hadn't noticed a lone, dark figure seated at the staff table.
Professor Snape had not been surprised to find the Great Hall empty at a quarter to six. He was caught off guard when one of the doors swung open, revealing his bedraggled state. He looked up just in time to see a retreating stream of black hair as the door slammed again. There was only one student likely to be up at this hour, and her rapid departure worried him.
It was ten past six when Hecate arrived, briefly, back in the dungeons. She returned to her dormitory to find the other girls still sleeping, and quietly began filling her school bag with thick, dusty tomes. When the seams looked about ready to burst, she took out another bag and similarly filled it until she could barely stand under the weight of the books. Slowly, she shuffled back out of her dorm, through the cold, empty common room and out into the grey stone corridor. She had recently discovered an old, unused potions lab only five minutes and two flights of stairs away from Slytherin house. She would not be found there. She did not care about her promise to Snape.
Once in the pitch-dark room, she set her books on a bench. Securing the door with a charm (she was only about 75% sure that it was effective, since it was of the genre of spell-casting learned in fifth-year and nobody had ever found her for it to be tested) she let the cold, dank air of the dungeon seep into her mind. Collapsing against the door, she was unable to muster enough energy to even light a candle, so she curled up in the darkness, the cold stone floor numbing her, and cried, remembering.
It was October 31st, and the cool evening was settling around the quaint, ivy dressed cottage. Three children were preparing pumpkins for juicing, roasting and other forms of eating, before attacking the hollow carcasses with camping knives, carving faces into them with unsteady hands. The family ritual was even more important this year, as it was the last time that all three children would be at home on Samhain night for a long time. Behind curtained windows, a handsome young man was conjuring cobwebs and other, more unsightly, decorations for this night's celebration. His wife stood over several steaming pots in the kitchen, attempting to find uses for the pounds of pumpkin flesh piling up on the work surface, and occasionally rescuing a large pumpkin shell to be used as a soup vat. All the family were in traditional wizarding robes (although the muggle mother insisted on thinking of them as costumes, and they were not to be worn on any other day) and eagerly awaited the arrival of the village's children. They held the biggest Halloween party for miles.
Hecate brought herself back to the dungeon, reducing her tears into gasping hiccoughs. Even the simple ritual of carving pumpkins would never happen again. She would never run screeching at the Viking poetry that would issue unexpectedly from the doorbell each time she stepped on the porch or laugh hysterically that the other children thought it would curse them. She hit the heel of her hand against her brow to clear the image. She slapped, hit and punched herself until she was bruised and in too much pain to think. Then she began working. Being the efficient type, she had already completed her week's homework assignments, and had mastered several more nasty (but entirely legal and mostly harmless) hexes. Not quite sure what she was intending to do, she retrieved a book from her bag and began to read. She completed that book only to start on another, then another - not stopping until the clouds of night had long since fallen.
When his most difficult charge did not re-appear at breakfast or show any signs of having lunch, Severus Snape thought that he should do something. Leaving the hall shortly before the throng, he walked slowly towards his office. As he suspected, he was almost barrelled down by his students, but showed no immediate signs of their passing. When the first years came into sight, he took advantage of the situation: "Miss Parkinson, Miss Bullstrode, how dare you be so impudent as to bar the way of a professor! My office. Now." He led the two, very scared looking, girls in, and began lecturing them on polite conduct in the school halls. Once he had sufficiently reprimanded them, he turned to more pressing business. "I was under the impression that there were more than just two first year girls sorted into this house. Where is Miss Aiwe? Shouldn't she also be on her way to lessons?" His tone was calculating and showed no particular desire to know where the other child was. "I haven't seen her." Millicent answered truthfully. Her teacher's stare seemed to make her decide that more than that statement was necessary, and she began to babble on. "She hasn't been in class today. She is always gone before we wake up, and after curfew she remains in the common room until we are asleep - she never tells anyone where she goes, the library, mostly, but ." Snape raised a hand to cut her off. "That will do. Go."
As the office door was closed behind them, Snape's still raised hand slammed down on the desk. He had checked the library and almost every spare classroom on the first three before classes begun, but had found no more than the usual teenage trysts. He had hoped that her dorm-mates might have some idea where she might be, but now he was just back to patrolling the corridors. He found himself wishing that the marauders were still alive or approachable, since they at least knew every secret passage going. He stood with resolution - if he had not found her by dinner, he would have to talk to Albus.
Snape didn't have any free periods that afternoon in which to look for Hecate. He was quite unnerved to find that, as well as Hecate, Hermione Granger also did not appear in his classroom. When neither girl came to dinner, he looked anxiously at the headmaster, but was unable to express his worries before the stuttering idiot of a dark arts professor came screaming into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table and gasped, "Troll - in the dungeons - thought you ought to know." Then he sank into a dead faint. Several purple firecrackers brought silence to the hall, and Dumbledore ordered the prefects to get their houses into the respective common rooms and the teachers to follow him. Snape was about to do the latter, when he remembered Hermione and Hecate. Hurrying upstairs he had a second thought - the stone. Quickly he swept up to the third floor. He found Quirrel there already, but also discovered Hagrid's 'guard dog'. Three massive heads swung at the two professors. As Snape swung his nemesis out of the room holding him in an armlock with one hand and closing the door with the other, one of those giant heads swept down on his calf, tearing it open. It was nothing he couldn't stand - he had faced far worse under the Dark Lord, and he marched the other swiftly down the stairs. At the sound of screaming, Severus' grip on the other man slackened, and both hurried in the direction of the girls toilets. When McGonagall joined them, Snape hid his animousity from her and let the other man follow, his pathetic mask returning to place. There was a sickening thud, and the three teachers entered the girls toilets to find Potter, Weasley, Granger and an unconscious troll. It was obvious that the Granger girl was lying about how they came to be there, but at that point in time, Snape was to pre-occupied by the pain in his leg to bother with her. Once the children had been dismissed, he left as quickly as was proper, hurrying to his office. He could not be bothered with Poppy and her whys and wherefores of his wound, and so bound it himself, taking a pain reduction draught, before setting out in search of Albus. Halfway down the corridor he cursed, muttered "Idiot" and headed back in the direction from which he had come. He reached the deepest recesses of the dungeons (or at least those which were accessible to the students, should they care to look) and began searching the old, damp and disused potions labs. Eventually he came to a door which would not open. He tried 'Alohamora' and it seemed to shake in its frame, as if in two minds about opening. He tried again, but putting all his energy into the spell, and the door swung open, a single illuminated candle lighting the form of a girl and her book. The panic that he hadn't noticed building ebbed away and relief flooded his face at the discovery. Hecate, of course, did not see this.
*************************End of Chapter Six*******************************
(Samhain = Halloween)
I apologise for the slow update, and am warning that it may be a while before the next chapter - A-levels and UCAS getting me down!
And now, to the story.
Chapter Six: Confrontations
In the run-up to Halloween, the school was starting to buzz with excitement. The third years would finally get their first glimpse of Hogsmeade and everyone, in general, was looking forward to the feast. Well, almost everyone. Hecate Aiwe was still unhappy, and the approaching festivities were making her more so. Not that she would be celebrating in the same sort of way she had at home, but she would be forced into a situation where everyone else would be happy and she would be left with memories. Memories which brought nothing but pain.
She wandered, only semi-conscious of the route that she was taking back to the dungeons as she herself was lost in thought, through the hallways of Hogwarts, attempting to recite the list of curses that she had learnt in the last week, in alphabetical order. It was not too hard, since she had only managed one or two a day - her stamina was wavering, though she wouldn't admit it. Suddenly, with a thud, she found herself on the floor, her book-bag burst and contents dispersed throughout the surrounding area. In front of her, in the process of getting to his feet, was a rather angry- looking potions master. Hecate cringed. "Sorry, Professor. Didn't see you there." Snape took one look at her, waved his wand at the mess on the floor - which instantly re-organised itself - and motioned her to stand. "Please come with me, Miss Aiwe."
He walked silently ahead of her all the way to his office, whence he opened the door and gestured her inside. Once they were both seated, he began: "Miss Aiwe, I'm afraid that we have a problem." "I haven't done anything to Malfoy." she started quickly, but he waved a hand in silence. This fact in itself wasn't exactly true, since there was the incident where she had transformed the buttons-that-had-previously-been- beetles back to their original form and slipped them (with a cunning levitation charm) into Malfoy's dinner. But nobody knew about that one.
"I have not called you here to discuss Mr Malfoy. though perhaps that conversation can be held at a later date." "Oh. So. what did you want?" "The staff and I have become rather worried about your current state of health." "Is this because of my grades? Because I can get them back up, I swear!" "If it were just your grades, then there would be little problem. First- years often slip a bit once they have settled in and the work gets harder. And your current grades are still very good, though your percentile in Potions is now in the low nineties." He took a breath, trying to get his thoughts back on track. "I came to find you, because Professor Flitwick just gave me your most recent Charms essay." "What was wrong with my essay?" Hecate shot, a previously dimmed fire flaring behind her dark eyes. "Professor Flitwick assured me that he was certain that it was of the highest quality, however he could not grade the paper, since to almost everyone in the castle it proved illegible." Snape produced her essay, and Hecate immediately saw the problem. Had she really written her entire essay in Runes? Surely she would remember doing so. With a slight smile, Snape added, "Professor Togram said it deserved full marks - although she admitted to only being able to translate a vague idea of the meaning without a dictionary." "I'm sorry, Professor, it won't happen again." She looked at the floor as she spoke the words very quickly. "I know it won't, because you are going to do something about your attitude to work." Hecate looked shocked. As far as she could tell, there was nothing wrong with her attitude - she got all her work done in plenty of time to a perfect standard. Sure, she had started sleeping later than usual over the last couple of weeks and her class notes were less detailed where her mind wandered in lessons, but all her homework was done. "I know that you think there is nothing wrong with your attitude, but I assure you, there is one fatal flaw." "What's that, Professor?" "You have forgotten to relax."
Hecate paled even further, if that was possible with the already sickly pallor of her cheeks, at the mention of relaxation. "I know that you are never seen doing anything but work, whether in your dorm, the common room or the library. You rarely turn up to meals, and when you do, you are working still." Tears began to smear her vision as he continued to speak. "It is not healthy, and if it doesn't stop, we are going to have to take some drastic measures." Hecate glared at her teacher through the tears that were ready to fall. She knew why she couldn't stop, but did she dare tell him that? "Yes, professor." She mumbled, wet streams trailing her cheeks. He looked at her and there was a sadness in his eyes. "I expect to see you at all meals in the future, young lady, and you must make sure to set aside at least a half hour a day for yourself." He moved his arm slightly towards her, as if to put it on her shoulder, but thought better of it and pulled back. Instead, he quickly turned and started fiddling around in a cupboard, muttering to himself. There was a triumphant "Aha!" and he turned, smile quickly drawn back into his familiar scowl, presenting his student with a bar of Honeydukes' finest. "Albus always makes sure I have some chocolate." Seeing the scandalised look on Hecate's face, the merry twinkle quickly left his eyes. "Professor Dumbledore insists that chocolate will cure almost anything. Eat up." Once the entire bar had been consumed, Hecate was allowed to return to her common room.
She had been on her way to the common room to hide-out the lunch break, but now thought it wiser to turn tail and make an appearance in the Great Hall. She arrived with the main throng of students, and made her way over to her house table. She didn't eat much, since she was feeling rather ill from the vast quantities of chocolate she had just consumed, but she made sure that her head of house saw her eat. After only a few minutes, she left the room.
From his seat, Professor Snape nodded in acknowledgement as she settled as far away from the student populous as was possible in the crowded hall. He noticed her make sure that he was watching before each mouthful, and was surprised that she ate as much as she did after he had given her that chocolate. He wasn't especially pleased when she left so quickly, but at least she had had some lunch. He would give it a week before making sure that she was getting better.
For the rest of the week, she made certain to attend every meal, and to only have one of her 'fun' books with her. This was a vast improvement on the past few weeks, and by Thursday, she was beginning to feel better - once more waking up with the sun and managing to perfect up to four curses a day - of course, this was done in strictest secrecy. She had even followed Snape's advice, and set aside a full half hour every morning for herself. It had taken her almost two days to figure out how to do something 'relaxing' and still occupy her mind. In the end, she settled for a half- hour vigorous exercise regime - it exhausted her (so her mind wasn't able to wander) but at the same time made her feel energised and able to face the day.
But she still made no effort to make friends.
On the morning of Halloween, Hecate woke early, settling into her new routine of exercise in the common room, shower and one-new-curse-before-the- others-wake-up, and forcing herself to forget the date. By the time that Pansy made her way out of the bedroom to start her daily Hecate-baiting - well, staring disgustedly from the stairway at her back as she was hunched over a book and ignoring her; it was the closest that Pansy would get to actually baiting her, since she was terrified of the repercussions (everyone below fifth year was, to some degree, scared of her, and everyone else generally avoided her) - the dark haired girl had gone.
Hecate made her way down to breakfast early, and was the first to arrive at the Great Hall. On the way, she met no one, as it was (even by her own standards) exceptionally early to be going to breakfast. And yet, she was not tired - Snape's theory had been correct, and though she was not about to set any time aside for 'recreational procrastination', now that she had begun eating properly and getting enough sleep, she did feel better. At the top of the dungeon stairs, she found herself facing the large double doors into the hall. As far as she could see, there were no students dining this early. Stepping forward, she leaned against the heavy oak and was confronted with decorations that had not been there the night before. Everybody said that the evening Halloween feast was wonderful and well decorated, and it was not uncommon for the more complex, less noticeable decorations to be put up before the feast, but it wasn't even six am! Unable to forget any longer about the date, and upset by the painful memories that it brought up, she fled. She hadn't noticed a lone, dark figure seated at the staff table.
Professor Snape had not been surprised to find the Great Hall empty at a quarter to six. He was caught off guard when one of the doors swung open, revealing his bedraggled state. He looked up just in time to see a retreating stream of black hair as the door slammed again. There was only one student likely to be up at this hour, and her rapid departure worried him.
It was ten past six when Hecate arrived, briefly, back in the dungeons. She returned to her dormitory to find the other girls still sleeping, and quietly began filling her school bag with thick, dusty tomes. When the seams looked about ready to burst, she took out another bag and similarly filled it until she could barely stand under the weight of the books. Slowly, she shuffled back out of her dorm, through the cold, empty common room and out into the grey stone corridor. She had recently discovered an old, unused potions lab only five minutes and two flights of stairs away from Slytherin house. She would not be found there. She did not care about her promise to Snape.
Once in the pitch-dark room, she set her books on a bench. Securing the door with a charm (she was only about 75% sure that it was effective, since it was of the genre of spell-casting learned in fifth-year and nobody had ever found her for it to be tested) she let the cold, dank air of the dungeon seep into her mind. Collapsing against the door, she was unable to muster enough energy to even light a candle, so she curled up in the darkness, the cold stone floor numbing her, and cried, remembering.
It was October 31st, and the cool evening was settling around the quaint, ivy dressed cottage. Three children were preparing pumpkins for juicing, roasting and other forms of eating, before attacking the hollow carcasses with camping knives, carving faces into them with unsteady hands. The family ritual was even more important this year, as it was the last time that all three children would be at home on Samhain night for a long time. Behind curtained windows, a handsome young man was conjuring cobwebs and other, more unsightly, decorations for this night's celebration. His wife stood over several steaming pots in the kitchen, attempting to find uses for the pounds of pumpkin flesh piling up on the work surface, and occasionally rescuing a large pumpkin shell to be used as a soup vat. All the family were in traditional wizarding robes (although the muggle mother insisted on thinking of them as costumes, and they were not to be worn on any other day) and eagerly awaited the arrival of the village's children. They held the biggest Halloween party for miles.
Hecate brought herself back to the dungeon, reducing her tears into gasping hiccoughs. Even the simple ritual of carving pumpkins would never happen again. She would never run screeching at the Viking poetry that would issue unexpectedly from the doorbell each time she stepped on the porch or laugh hysterically that the other children thought it would curse them. She hit the heel of her hand against her brow to clear the image. She slapped, hit and punched herself until she was bruised and in too much pain to think. Then she began working. Being the efficient type, she had already completed her week's homework assignments, and had mastered several more nasty (but entirely legal and mostly harmless) hexes. Not quite sure what she was intending to do, she retrieved a book from her bag and began to read. She completed that book only to start on another, then another - not stopping until the clouds of night had long since fallen.
When his most difficult charge did not re-appear at breakfast or show any signs of having lunch, Severus Snape thought that he should do something. Leaving the hall shortly before the throng, he walked slowly towards his office. As he suspected, he was almost barrelled down by his students, but showed no immediate signs of their passing. When the first years came into sight, he took advantage of the situation: "Miss Parkinson, Miss Bullstrode, how dare you be so impudent as to bar the way of a professor! My office. Now." He led the two, very scared looking, girls in, and began lecturing them on polite conduct in the school halls. Once he had sufficiently reprimanded them, he turned to more pressing business. "I was under the impression that there were more than just two first year girls sorted into this house. Where is Miss Aiwe? Shouldn't she also be on her way to lessons?" His tone was calculating and showed no particular desire to know where the other child was. "I haven't seen her." Millicent answered truthfully. Her teacher's stare seemed to make her decide that more than that statement was necessary, and she began to babble on. "She hasn't been in class today. She is always gone before we wake up, and after curfew she remains in the common room until we are asleep - she never tells anyone where she goes, the library, mostly, but ." Snape raised a hand to cut her off. "That will do. Go."
As the office door was closed behind them, Snape's still raised hand slammed down on the desk. He had checked the library and almost every spare classroom on the first three before classes begun, but had found no more than the usual teenage trysts. He had hoped that her dorm-mates might have some idea where she might be, but now he was just back to patrolling the corridors. He found himself wishing that the marauders were still alive or approachable, since they at least knew every secret passage going. He stood with resolution - if he had not found her by dinner, he would have to talk to Albus.
Snape didn't have any free periods that afternoon in which to look for Hecate. He was quite unnerved to find that, as well as Hecate, Hermione Granger also did not appear in his classroom. When neither girl came to dinner, he looked anxiously at the headmaster, but was unable to express his worries before the stuttering idiot of a dark arts professor came screaming into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table and gasped, "Troll - in the dungeons - thought you ought to know." Then he sank into a dead faint. Several purple firecrackers brought silence to the hall, and Dumbledore ordered the prefects to get their houses into the respective common rooms and the teachers to follow him. Snape was about to do the latter, when he remembered Hermione and Hecate. Hurrying upstairs he had a second thought - the stone. Quickly he swept up to the third floor. He found Quirrel there already, but also discovered Hagrid's 'guard dog'. Three massive heads swung at the two professors. As Snape swung his nemesis out of the room holding him in an armlock with one hand and closing the door with the other, one of those giant heads swept down on his calf, tearing it open. It was nothing he couldn't stand - he had faced far worse under the Dark Lord, and he marched the other swiftly down the stairs. At the sound of screaming, Severus' grip on the other man slackened, and both hurried in the direction of the girls toilets. When McGonagall joined them, Snape hid his animousity from her and let the other man follow, his pathetic mask returning to place. There was a sickening thud, and the three teachers entered the girls toilets to find Potter, Weasley, Granger and an unconscious troll. It was obvious that the Granger girl was lying about how they came to be there, but at that point in time, Snape was to pre-occupied by the pain in his leg to bother with her. Once the children had been dismissed, he left as quickly as was proper, hurrying to his office. He could not be bothered with Poppy and her whys and wherefores of his wound, and so bound it himself, taking a pain reduction draught, before setting out in search of Albus. Halfway down the corridor he cursed, muttered "Idiot" and headed back in the direction from which he had come. He reached the deepest recesses of the dungeons (or at least those which were accessible to the students, should they care to look) and began searching the old, damp and disused potions labs. Eventually he came to a door which would not open. He tried 'Alohamora' and it seemed to shake in its frame, as if in two minds about opening. He tried again, but putting all his energy into the spell, and the door swung open, a single illuminated candle lighting the form of a girl and her book. The panic that he hadn't noticed building ebbed away and relief flooded his face at the discovery. Hecate, of course, did not see this.
*************************End of Chapter Six*******************************
(Samhain = Halloween)