Chapter 33 I Know the Likes O' Him
Maura held on to Minerva McGonagall's arm tightly. There was certainly something about magickal travel that didn't agree with her! It didn't seem to matter if it was by Apparation or Portkey; she felt nauseous and dizzy. She drew a deep breath.
"Let's get you up to Poppy straightaway," said the witch, looking Maura up and down. "You've been through most of the nine Hells, and Lucius Malfoy..." she made a wry face. "Poppy will know what to do."
"I wish she could erase my memory!" Maura replied. "Professor McGonagall, could we walk to the Infirmary?" Minerva laughed and they left the Great Hall, where the Portkey had deposited them and made for the staircases.
Poppy Pomfrey was waiting for them. "Hecate's hindquarters, girl, you're a fright! Minerva, I'll take her now." She seized Maura's arm and bustled her towards a bed. Sisters Brigit and Agrippina converged on her, and began to strip off her clothes. Brigit's eyebrows drew together and she uttered a stream of Gaelic obscenity on seeing Maura's bruises and scrapes.
Maura giggled; her feisty old aunt Rose had known every curse word in Gaelic and used them fluently and frequently. "I haven't heard that in ages!" she said, as Brigit hurled a particularly virulent imprecation at Lucius Malfoy.
"Och, I know the likes o' him," the Druid said. She pulled off Maura's knickers and threw a sheet over her. "Let us see..." She dove under the sheet, and Maura put her hands over her face.
Sister Brigit emerged from the sheet, her lips compressed into a thin line. "Not much of a man, is he? And he shoots blanks."
Sister Agrippina bent over double, hooting and gasping until she was fairly breathless. "Blanks, oh, hahahahahaha!" Madam Pomfrey hastened over.
"What's this, then, Brigit?" She saw Agrippina trying to contain herself, and the wry smile on Brigit's face. "Oh," she said. Maura was still trying to process the information: he shoots blanks... "You don't have to worry, my dear. Mr Malfoy is, erm, sexually dysfunctional; he left nothing of himself within you."
Maura sat up. "All that, and he can't – he doesn't --- "It wasn't funny; it was disgusting, and pitiful. "I'm not surprised," she stated. "Big braggarts aren't often great performers."
"Come, Miss McNicholas. Let's get you into a nice bath," said Madam Pomfrey, and she and Sister Brigit led Maura away behind a screen where a huge claw footed bathtub, filled to the brim with rosemary-scented water, awaited her.
Hermione placed the vase of flowers on Maura's bedside table, rearranged a few blossoms, and then sat herself down cosily on the edge of the bed.
"Quite a turnabout!" she said, helping herself to one of Maura's Chocolate Frogs. "The last time you were in the Infirmary, it was I in the bed and you visiting me!"
"I'm going to be just fine," said Maura, hitching herself up on her pillows. "Madam Pomfrey insisted that I stay overnight. She put some kind of charm on me "to get rid of any unwelcome beasties." She chuckled. "You've not heard my tale, Hermione. Are you sure you're up for it?"
Hermione laughed. "Well, starting from the end, you were rescued by the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall in their Animagus shapes, and that's quite something! Now, tell me what really happened, and don't leave out one sordid detail!" She pulled the curtain around Maura's bed.
Madam Pomfrey paused in her inventory of the linen-closet. Peals of laughter rang from behind the curtain around Maura McNicholas' bed, punctuated now and then by a snort, a loud "Ewwww!" "Cor!" and finally a soprano shriek duet that set everyone's teeth on edge.
"Agrippina! Would you please tell that lot to shut it? Sick Wizards and Witches need their rest, and those two harpies are disturbing them!" Sister Agrippina quickly went over and drew the curtain open. Hermione Granger, still in her dressing-gown and slippers, for she had not yet been discharged, lay on her back across Maura's feet, hiccupping helplessly. Maura leaned over sideways, trying to reach her water pitcher. She had the hiccups as well.
"Look at ye! Hysterical it is, eh?" Sister Agrippina poured cups of water for both girls, fussed them both into proper sitting positions, and put her hand at the back of Maura's neck. "No fever, at any rate." She leaned over: "Ain't it daft, gels, how them what don't have it brag about it, and them what has it don't have to say a word!" She winked. "I don't fancy blonds anyway." She took Hermione's hand. "Time for ye to get dressed and go about yer business, Miss Granger. They'll be wantin' ye to help downstairs. Himself said as soon as ye're fit, I should send ye down to the laboratory."
"Oh, thank you!" Hermione hugged Sister Agrippina, called over her shoulder, "I'll be back to see you, Maura," and went to dress.
Maura sat on the edge of her bed and swung her feet over the side experimentally. No dizziness; that was good. People always said that was what you should do after being in bed for quite a long time. What now? There's a battle brewing, and I really don't think I can be of any help. It's time for me to go home, and if they need me, Hermione and the Headmaster know how to find me. She looked around at the tidy Infirmary. There were only a few patients left, and they were getting ready to be discharged. She leaned back against her pillows, and thought about Hogwarts.
Ron and Harry had told her about so many things – the amazing Sorting Hat ceremony, the feasts at Samhain and Yule, the Leaving Feast at the end of the school year, and the close friendships amongst the students made Hogwarts seem like Heaven.
I'm a little old for all that, Maura thought to herself. They're all eighteen or so – I'm twenty-seven, done with college, been on my own for quite a long time. But Hogwarts was magical; it was sanctuary and fantasy kingdom and fairytale domain all together, and now it was about to embark on a war that could end the magic castle's days forever. I know Hogwarts will live forever in the words Mrs. Rowling wrote, but there's so much she doesn't, couldn't know! I love it here, I've come to know and love the people, but it's time for me to go home. I'll just have to wait for the next book.
Rubeus Hagrid carried a large armful of quarterstaffs into the Great Hall, handed them to the Ravenclaw prefect who was acting arms-master, and made his way down into the dungeons. He needed to talk to Severus Snape. Of all the masters, Severus was the worst-tempered, least-liked and one of the strangest, but there was a bond between the Potions Master and the half-giant, two men who were 'different' and had suffered because of the difference.
Hagrid could not forget the beautiful ghost with the strawberry blonde hair. He had an awful feeling that her appearance boded ill for the coming battle; ghosts other than their own Hogwarts resident spectres were just not seen in the countryside! Was she someone who the Death Eaters had murdered? He recalled that when a Death Eater took a life, there wasn't enough left to the poor thing to even raise a ghost, little say one that moved! He rapped on the laboratory door.
"Enter!" He pushed open the door. Severus Snape and Sherlock Holmes were putting stoppers into blue bottles of potion. Neville Longbottom and Draco Malfoy were re-stocking chemicals and herbs back onto their shelves. Two House-elves scrubbed cauldrons at the huge sink.
"It looks like yeh finished yer work, sirs!" Hagrid boomed.
Snape turned around, a phial in his hand. "Yes, Hagrid, for the time being we are done. We have accomplished our task, that is, this task. There is much to do; the call to the Death Eaters could come at any time. Come, we are all expected in the Great Hall for a briefing by the Headmaster."
"Erm, can I talk to yeh for just a minute before yeh go, Severus? It's important or I wouldn't bother yeh."
Holmes put his jacket on. "Shall I give you your privacy, Hagrid?"
"Oh, no, sir, it don't matter, as a matter o'fact, yeh might know owt about it, what I seen, that is." He sat himself down ponderously on a stool, which creaked under his weight.
"Well, Hagrid? What is it?" Severus Snape's brows beetled; he was impatient to attend the briefing, but he realised that the half-giant would never approach him with something unimportant.
Hagrid twisted the edge of his tunic in his huge hands. "I seen a ghost," he said. "Oh, not in the castle, but out by the lake. Me an' Fang were walkin' and I thought I seen summat on a flat rock by the East side, you know the place, Severus? Near where the lilies grow?"
"Have done with the expostulation, Hagrid!" Snape exploded. "What kind of a ghost?"
"At first I thought 'twas a Muggle lad, packin' things into a rucksack. Then I realised it was a girl, a very, very pretty girl, with long blonde hair all floatin' down, but she was wearin' Muggle men's trousers an' coat, with a man's cap, an'—"
"Just a minute!" cried Holmes. "Do you mean to tell me that you saw what you thought was a young man, but it turned out to be a young woman?"
Hagrid looked at Holmes as if he was daft. "Yes, o' course, it's what I said, you. Then she saw me, and she was goin' to say something – and then she disappeared."
Holmes dropped his face into his hands. When he looked up there were two red spots on his cheekbones, and he looked – sheepish.
Snape looked at him. "Holmes? Are you all right, man? What is it – do you know what he's going on about? A young woman dressed in a man's clothes? Did she show any wounds, or signs that she had been murdered?"
"No, there wouldn't be," said Holmes. "She certainly was not murdered. The borders between worlds are thin here, as I have found out. It is most likely that she saw you, Hagrid, as you saw her, for a moment, and then the world-borders shifted and you were gone. No, she's very much alive."
"But who –"
Holmes' eyebrows rose, he shrugged and threw his hands in the air. "It's Russell, of course. God help me."