Chapter Eight
The Absent Professor
It was a late morning in early summer, and there was scent of flowers and plants and earth on the air as Bella stuck her head out the window and looked around. Hogwarts was the strangest place she had ever been in, and she had decided the moment she saw it that she was going to explore it top to bottom to the best of her ability in the months that followed. The sun was shining on the lake and the forest in the distance looked dark, threatening, and irresistible. Danger, in its persuasive and insistent voice, whispered to her out of the corner of her thoughts, but she hushed it. There were other things to do today, and she was going to play this smart. Bella knew better than to get expelled right after she got there. And Professor McGonagall was expecting her in less than an hour to begin her placement testing, and she knew better than to screw that up, too.
Bella dressed slowly, taking time to savour her dreamy laziness. The dormitories were empty except for her, and she found something oddly appealing about the long rooms full of beds, waiting for people to come and sleep in them. The room looked expectant. A few years ago she would have laughed at that thought, but now, she knew better than to take anything at face value. Who the hell knew, after all, if the room was expectant? Maybe it was conscious after all, and got bored over the summer with no one within it to keep it entertained. She stood up finally, pulled back her hair in a loose coil and set off to find Professor McGonagall.
It had been nearly a week since she came here. Mrs Malfoy had seen her off, returned to composure. She had met Draco as he left the Hogwarts Express, and waved goodbye to the two of them. She worried for them, hoping Draco wouldn't join the Death Eaters and get himself killed. She worried about what Mrs Malfoy would do if he did. She had given a good deal of thought to what Mrs Malfoy had said to her, and had come to a few of her own conclusions. But she still felt a kind of sick, helpless fear when she thought of the expression on the older woman's face, lips drawn down to a thin hard line, eyes flashing with bitterness. She had believed in something once, and would never let herself make that mistake again.
It was bitterness like that which made Bella cringe. It was the rigid, self contained terror of someone who had lost faith in any cause they had ever believed in, who thought that those who still had any were putting their own heads in the noose. And it was coupled with Mrs Malfoy's fear for her family, magnified by her affection for her son. How horrible it must be for her, who has given up on pride, on honour, on loyalty to the Dark Lord, to see those same deadly convictions framed in Draco's face.
Bella pushed these thoughts back in her mind. I'm here now, and worrying never helped anyone, she thought furiously. She walked a little faster. She wished she could do something. She had never liked inaction. The Sorting Hat had told her as much. It was eerie how it had seen into her mind, had picked out her intelligence, her cunning, the unscrupulous edge to her every thought, and quietly said to her, "Slytherin", but how through all that it had apparently seen the impatient red thread in the green tapestry. It had paused. She knew what it had seen, her forward manner, her innate tendency to stick her neck out.
Bella reached the doorway to McGonagall's classroom, and stopped. She knocked politely and responded to the summons from within.
"Hello, Miss Thorne. Are you ready to begin?"
She was.
Bella was relieved, but not surprised, to learn that she had done better than well on her Transfiguration test. And as time went on, Bella grew more and more confident in her talent as a witch. Though she wouldn't have admitted it to anyone, Bella had been plagued by a gnawing and unshakeable doubt ever since she had known she was coming here, the feeling that no matter how much she studied and how hard she worked, and no matter how good she was she would still find a way to sink herself at Hogwarts. But as the testing went on, she was relieved to find this feeling slipping away, until, one day in early August she woke up and realised it was quite gone.
By that time she had finished all but one of her placement tests, which had all yielded high marks for the intelligence and innate skill that Bella couldn't seem to believe she possessed until she had a second opinion. And by now she had a third, a fourth, and a few more to boot.
But there was still one to worry about, one last hoop to jump through, and it was a hoop that she couldn't jump through until someone was there to hold it up for her. Professor Snape, the potions master and head of Slytherin house, was away. To hear Dumbledore tell it it sounded as though he was off on a well-deserved vacation, and it was not until she had relayed this news to Draco by letter and he had told her a thing or two about Professor Snape that she began to think this was strange. Draco had written that he couldn't imagine Snape on vacation, and he also wondered where he was.
Bella had not given much thought to Professor Snape, though, after learning that he was away, until the days turned into weeks and the school year drew closer. One day, Dumbledore sent for her, and on the walk to his office she felt, for a bit, the old sinking dread that she'd thought, at long last, was gone for good.
But it turned out that she needn't have worried. What the meeting focused on mainly was the unfortunate absence of the Potions Master, and how, in his absence, it would be hard for him to give her the placement test. "But," Dumbledore had said, "not to worry. I can do it in his stead and, I hope, be every bit as hard and strict and pernickety as he is." He had said it with a twinkle in his eye and a shade of a mocking smile about his lips, but Bella, who knew the professor's reputation, felt a twinge at his words.
And while the test went well, and Bella was able to concoct both the obscure form of Heavy Sleeping Powder, and its accompanying Awakening Draught (for the powder itself was so powerful that that sleeper would not be able to awaken on their own, and the draught had to be administered by someone else), and Bella's anxiety was finally banished for the summer, her curiosity was slowly getting the better of her. She had begun to draw wild and fanciful conclusions as to the missing teacher's whereabouts. She remembered hearing Mr. Malfoy talk about him with Draco, over the previous summer. He knew him, apparently, and asked Draco to give him his regards upon returning to school. And Bella thought this powerfully strange, though for the life of her she couldn't say why.
The Absent Professor
It was a late morning in early summer, and there was scent of flowers and plants and earth on the air as Bella stuck her head out the window and looked around. Hogwarts was the strangest place she had ever been in, and she had decided the moment she saw it that she was going to explore it top to bottom to the best of her ability in the months that followed. The sun was shining on the lake and the forest in the distance looked dark, threatening, and irresistible. Danger, in its persuasive and insistent voice, whispered to her out of the corner of her thoughts, but she hushed it. There were other things to do today, and she was going to play this smart. Bella knew better than to get expelled right after she got there. And Professor McGonagall was expecting her in less than an hour to begin her placement testing, and she knew better than to screw that up, too.
Bella dressed slowly, taking time to savour her dreamy laziness. The dormitories were empty except for her, and she found something oddly appealing about the long rooms full of beds, waiting for people to come and sleep in them. The room looked expectant. A few years ago she would have laughed at that thought, but now, she knew better than to take anything at face value. Who the hell knew, after all, if the room was expectant? Maybe it was conscious after all, and got bored over the summer with no one within it to keep it entertained. She stood up finally, pulled back her hair in a loose coil and set off to find Professor McGonagall.
It had been nearly a week since she came here. Mrs Malfoy had seen her off, returned to composure. She had met Draco as he left the Hogwarts Express, and waved goodbye to the two of them. She worried for them, hoping Draco wouldn't join the Death Eaters and get himself killed. She worried about what Mrs Malfoy would do if he did. She had given a good deal of thought to what Mrs Malfoy had said to her, and had come to a few of her own conclusions. But she still felt a kind of sick, helpless fear when she thought of the expression on the older woman's face, lips drawn down to a thin hard line, eyes flashing with bitterness. She had believed in something once, and would never let herself make that mistake again.
It was bitterness like that which made Bella cringe. It was the rigid, self contained terror of someone who had lost faith in any cause they had ever believed in, who thought that those who still had any were putting their own heads in the noose. And it was coupled with Mrs Malfoy's fear for her family, magnified by her affection for her son. How horrible it must be for her, who has given up on pride, on honour, on loyalty to the Dark Lord, to see those same deadly convictions framed in Draco's face.
Bella pushed these thoughts back in her mind. I'm here now, and worrying never helped anyone, she thought furiously. She walked a little faster. She wished she could do something. She had never liked inaction. The Sorting Hat had told her as much. It was eerie how it had seen into her mind, had picked out her intelligence, her cunning, the unscrupulous edge to her every thought, and quietly said to her, "Slytherin", but how through all that it had apparently seen the impatient red thread in the green tapestry. It had paused. She knew what it had seen, her forward manner, her innate tendency to stick her neck out.
Bella reached the doorway to McGonagall's classroom, and stopped. She knocked politely and responded to the summons from within.
"Hello, Miss Thorne. Are you ready to begin?"
She was.
Bella was relieved, but not surprised, to learn that she had done better than well on her Transfiguration test. And as time went on, Bella grew more and more confident in her talent as a witch. Though she wouldn't have admitted it to anyone, Bella had been plagued by a gnawing and unshakeable doubt ever since she had known she was coming here, the feeling that no matter how much she studied and how hard she worked, and no matter how good she was she would still find a way to sink herself at Hogwarts. But as the testing went on, she was relieved to find this feeling slipping away, until, one day in early August she woke up and realised it was quite gone.
By that time she had finished all but one of her placement tests, which had all yielded high marks for the intelligence and innate skill that Bella couldn't seem to believe she possessed until she had a second opinion. And by now she had a third, a fourth, and a few more to boot.
But there was still one to worry about, one last hoop to jump through, and it was a hoop that she couldn't jump through until someone was there to hold it up for her. Professor Snape, the potions master and head of Slytherin house, was away. To hear Dumbledore tell it it sounded as though he was off on a well-deserved vacation, and it was not until she had relayed this news to Draco by letter and he had told her a thing or two about Professor Snape that she began to think this was strange. Draco had written that he couldn't imagine Snape on vacation, and he also wondered where he was.
Bella had not given much thought to Professor Snape, though, after learning that he was away, until the days turned into weeks and the school year drew closer. One day, Dumbledore sent for her, and on the walk to his office she felt, for a bit, the old sinking dread that she'd thought, at long last, was gone for good.
But it turned out that she needn't have worried. What the meeting focused on mainly was the unfortunate absence of the Potions Master, and how, in his absence, it would be hard for him to give her the placement test. "But," Dumbledore had said, "not to worry. I can do it in his stead and, I hope, be every bit as hard and strict and pernickety as he is." He had said it with a twinkle in his eye and a shade of a mocking smile about his lips, but Bella, who knew the professor's reputation, felt a twinge at his words.
And while the test went well, and Bella was able to concoct both the obscure form of Heavy Sleeping Powder, and its accompanying Awakening Draught (for the powder itself was so powerful that that sleeper would not be able to awaken on their own, and the draught had to be administered by someone else), and Bella's anxiety was finally banished for the summer, her curiosity was slowly getting the better of her. She had begun to draw wild and fanciful conclusions as to the missing teacher's whereabouts. She remembered hearing Mr. Malfoy talk about him with Draco, over the previous summer. He knew him, apparently, and asked Draco to give him his regards upon returning to school. And Bella thought this powerfully strange, though for the life of her she couldn't say why.