Chapter Three - Clues and Suspicions

The buzzing of the chainsaw in the sunny afternoon told Snape that Celeste was busy in the grounds. Hagrid was operating the saw, but Celeste would not yet let him work unsupervised. She was definitely there too, which gave Snape a chance to search her room. The new term would start in a few days time – it was best to do it now.

In the privacy of his bedchamber Snape charmed his hands to obscure his fingerprints. Then, light as a cat on his feet, he bounded up to the sixth floor and looked along the deserted corridor. He walked its length, throwing open each door to right and left, revealing in turn a disused classroom, a couple of store rooms, girls' toilets, boys' toilets, the female prefects' bathroom, the male prefects' bathroom… Apart from curtains flapping at a window in the female prefects' bathroom and the faint buzz of the chainsaw, each room was silent and deserted. Now for Celeste's room.

He knocked smartly on the door. As expected there was no reply, but he knocked again to make sure and then eased the door open an inch, listening. The distant noise from the grounds swelled to greet him – a window must be open. Peering in, he was relieved to find no one in the room. He tiptoed to the bathroom and put his ear to the door. No sound. He knocked twice and was again rewarded with no reply, so he eased open the bathroom door and verified that no one was inside. He then quickly checked the wardrobe, the trunk, and under the bed. The room appeared to be empty.

He returned to the bedroom door, closed it quietly and sealed it with the Adhaevo charm. It was a 'soft' adhering spell, designed to impede the opening of the door long enough to give him time to get away should the need arise. He went to the service panel near the fireplace and held his wand to it, muttering 'Transparecium'. It was a spell that rendered the panel momentarily transparent to his gaze, like a one-way mirror, revealing whether any living thing lurked behind it. No one appeared to be there, so he eased it open and was greeted by the empty tunnel stretching away into darkness. It connected with the network of small passages the house-elves used to service the rooms. Heaving a sigh of relief, Snape used a spell to seal the panel closed and surveyed the bed-sitting room.

It was a neat and tidy room; orderly and spotless. The stone walls were panelled in mid-brown oak to three-quarter height. By the door was a kind of vestibule area with a row of wrought iron coat hooks fixed to the panelling. The hooks held two travelling cloaks; one in maroon, the other bottle green. Incongruously beside them were two smart, broad brimmed summer hats trimmed with black ribbon – one scarlet, the other daffodil yellow. Wellingtons, winter boots and running shoes stood in orderly alignment on the floor beneath the cloaks.

Across the room, on the opposite wall to the coat hooks was the fireplace, around which were grouped two armchairs and a two-seater sofa, upholstered in rather worn dark red, blue and cream tapestry. In a chimney recess, a heavy oak table stood against the wall. It was clearly Celeste's writing table, and a chair was tucked beneath it. The table's top bore parchment, ink bottles and quills, a spiral bound Muggle note pad, a pad of Post-It Notes and a quantity of Muggle roller-ball pens in a pot. A black chord dangled from a stubby pink pen – it reminded Snape of the chord attached to McGonagall's reading glasses; presumably it fulfilled a similar function. Carefully, he lifted each piece of parchment, tested it with his wand and replaced it as he had found it. He used a similar spell on the spiral-bound pad and the Post-It Notes. They were all blank. He unscrewed the plastic pens and had difficulty reassembling some of them. Nothing was hidden inside them.

The high mantle shelf held a quantity of squat yellow candles and five tall, tapering candles in a wrought iron candelabrum. Behind an armchair and running across the room to divide it from the sleeping area, was a long, low bookcase. Much of it was empty but the few books it held were sorted into subjects – a section on physics, another on mathematics, a section devoted to English classics – mainly Jane Austen, Oscar Wilde and Shakespeare – and, separate from these, a few French classics. Snape picked up volume one of Marcel Proust's Remembrance of Things Past and found it was written in French; as, too, was a copy of Emile Zola's Thérèse Raquin. Replacing the novels carefully, he looked through the science books. As well as college texts there were two or three 'popular' Penguin paperbacks on number theory, relativity, quantum physics and the nature of time. No loose papers were hidden in the books.

He looked around, up and down. The barrel vaulted ceiling was of bare stone, and except for a worn burgundy rug by the hearth, the floor was of bare boards. He moved on.

Backing onto the low bookcase were two chests of drawers, standing side by side. A box of tissues and a tea-tray stood on top. Crowded onto the tray were two oatmeal coloured beakers and several tightly stoppered glass jars. One held sugar, the others tea bags – Indian, chamomile, comfrey and peppermint, Snape verified. Half a lemon wrapped in a twist of cling film, sat on a saucer beside a small knife. Next to it, a screw top jar labelled Green & Black's Organic Hot Chocolate did indeed contain chocolate granules.

The chests of drawers ran parallel to a single bed, neatly made. Snape knew that approaching the wardrobe and the trunk required caution because he may be seen at the window. Glancing carefully out, he discovered that Celeste was a long way off and not in a good line of sight to spot him, but anyone else nearer to the castle might do so. He must not be seen – he had no particular reason to be on the sixth floor.

Opposite the end of the bed, the large wardrobe flanked the bathroom wall, and he found that it contained three sets of plain black work robes, long-sleeved satin evening gowns in jade, royal blue, emerald and carmine, and velvet edged evening robes in appropriately toning, rich colours. High healed satin shoes matched each dress and were arranged alongside more ordinary, black, leather-looking shoes, three pairs of fabric sandals, and a large, flat, empty gabardine bag. Two sun dresses were topped by bolero jackets, one set in scarlet and the other daffodil yellow. The hats on the coat hooks obviously belonged to these summer outfits. A glance at the labels revealed that the clothes came mostly from French and Italian wizarding design houses and that the 'satin' clothes were not true satin, but made of a synthetic Muggle fabric. The few remaining items were of lesser value – a long denim skirt, some embroidered cotton T-shirts and two pairs of narrow black trousers. The wardrobe held nothing but clothes, shoes, and the navy gabardine bag. Next to it, the empty trunk was squeezed against the exterior wall.

One chest of drawers held two fine jersey wool dresses, one in dark red and one in cream, a brown belt in a synthetic suede-type material, jeans and sports clothes – there were track suits, leotards, leggins, socks, a couple of pairs of shorts, some T-shirts and a swimsuit. The other held synthetic 'satin' nightdresses and underwear. But such underwear! Snape didn't need to disturb the lingerie; he could tell enough just by gazing down into an opened drawer. These delicate lace bits and pieces were surely not for a woman with no inclination for the physical side of life. This was the underwear of a woman interested in romance, seduction, sex. But who ever saw them? Who got to undress Celeste, apart from Celeste?

Resenting the ideas and images that coursed hotly through his mind, Snape slid the drawer closed and took a deep breath. He caught sight of his reflection in the wardrobe mirror. A slight flush tinged his normally pale face.

In an angry whirl of robes he rounded the end of the bed, flashed past the window and sat down on the floor. Providing he leant his shoulders forward, his head was almost below the window and he was therefore effectively out of sight, certainly from ground level. He turned his attention to the bedside cabinet.

On its top was a photograph and a black lacquered box with a Chinese Fireball Dragon painted in flaming reds and oranges on the lid. There was also a book; a paperback edition of Richard P. Feynman's QED The strange Theory of Light and Matter – his seminal text for laymen on Quantum Electrodynamics. Snape opened it at random, glanced by chance at the foot of page thirty-seven and thumbed his way through ten pages. The section broadly explained how the classical law of reflection – the angle of incidence equals the angle of reflection – is just a simplification of the way light really reflects from a plain mirror. Feynman's quirky, chatty, New York style was getting on Snape's nerves and terms such as photo-multiplier and diffraction grating left him cold. Angrily, he snapped the book shut.

The lacquered box contained two pairs of leaf-shaped ear clips, one in silver and one in gold; and two very fine wristwatches by the renowned Swiss wizard firm of Xavier-Schwartz-Colbert. Again one watch was silver and one gold. All the jewellery was hallmarked.

He picked up the photograph and checked behind it, inside the frame. Then he looked at the photograph itself. It showed a man and a woman dressed in elegant wizard robes and Snape guessed he was looking at Celeste's parents. He judged the woman to be in her mid fifties. She was a proud beauty with an athletic build, challenging green eyes and flowing red-brown hair streaked with grey. Her arrogant smile deepened as she gazed back at him and she arched an eyebrow. The man looked much older. He too was handsome with startlingly blue eyes, but his long hair fell perfectly straight almost to his waste. It was ash white and looked strangely dead. This uncanny effect was echoed by his build – under his powder blue robes he was skeletally thin. He didn't move. The man's regular features looked as though he had seen much sorrow; the woman's face, by contrast, looked resolute and unconquered. Snape gazed for some moments at these two faces. In her straight-nosed and angelic beauty Celeste most resembled her father, he decided; but she had her mother's inner strength.

He replaced the photograph at its original angle on top of the cabinet and turned to the body of the cabinet. It contained three handbags of different colours, in a fabric that was – like the black shoes – a very good imitation of leather. Behind those he found two small velvet evening bags. The evening bags were empty as were the brown and ivory 'leather' bags. The black bag was clearly the one currently in use. It contained an Apparating licence, a Muggle driving licence, a Co-Operative Bank cheque book, and a Visa credit card in the name of Miss C. L. Lavelle. There was also a purse containing a large amount of wizard gold, another containing Muggle coins and notes, some sort of electronic Muggle device, membership cards for Compassion In World Farming, the British Union For The Abolition Of Vivisection and The Royal Society For The Prevention of Cruelty To Animals; and a pocket diary.

Judging by the dates on the cheque book stubs Celeste wrote very few cheques. The stubs revealed subscription and donation payments to the three animal protection organisations, a cheque made out to 'cash', the monthly settlement of her Visa account balance which varied between a few pounds and a few hundred pounds, and there were other regular payments – quite possibly monthly – to someone by the name of F. Wheeler. The Apparating licence was in the name of Celestine Leander Lavelle and bore Hogwarts as its address; the driving licence address belonged to Cornelius Fudge. Neither showed signs of secret inks nor of having been tampered with. Nor did the membership cards. Snape flicked carefully through the diary. It held a few appointments and reminders scattered throughout the year – 'Post application form today – LATEST' was written against May 11th , 'Interview Today' appeared against July 1st and was crossed through, reappearing on July 6th. 'Start Hogwarts Today' appeared against July 13th. 'Students Arrive' was written against next Tuesday; then nothing until November 1st which said 'Carmina?'. Blank again until December which said 'FL H?' against Christmas Eve and a grid reference. 'O St C 1:00am?' and 'Home?' appeared against Christmas Day. Snape wracked his brain to think of every revealing spell he had ever known but, as with the parchment and note pad, there were no signs of hidden messages; the only items written in the diary were in plain view. What did the initials stand for and why did most items have question marks? Who was Carmina? And who was F. Wheeler? Leafing through the diary again, he saw that the first Saturday in each month was circled, but there was no indication as to why.

He weighed the small but heavy Muggle device in his hand and looked at its numbered keys. This is a mobile phone, he realised, but he had no idea how to operate it and did not expect to be able to do so inside Hogwarts. If it held secrets he had no way of revealing them here. He knew little of Muggle money and nothing of their banking system. Nor their dreadful electronic devices. The credit card was signed C. L. Lavelle; the hologram on its face – a dove in flight – gleamed back at him.

Snape sighed. The only clues he might be able to work on were the circles around the first Saturday in each month, Carmina against 1st November, FL H+ against Christmas Eve, O St C against Christmas Day and the regular payments to F. Wheeler. He crawled along the floor, level with the foot of the bed, stood up and went to the table in the chimney corner. Careful to leave no shreds behind, he tore a leaf from the note pad, chose a blue plastic roller-ball pen and returned to sit under the window. The hideous Muggle pen worked far better than he had expected as he noted details from the diary and the cheque stubs. Stowing the slip of paper carefully into a deep pocket inside his robes, he returned the diary and cheque book to the handbag and replaced the handbag in the cupboard. Once again he took precautions to get away unseen from the open window. He jabbed the plastic pen back into the pen pot. Now for the bathroom.

The room was bigger than he had expected. It was panelled to half height in pine, above which the stone walls merged with the ceiling. The room held a bath with a shower above, a hand basin, a lavatory, a marble-topped washstand and a free-standing wooden towel rail. The wooden fittings and the bath panelling were of pine. In a corner was an empty cane linen basket. As with the bedroom, the window was wide open; the sheer drapes wafting on a gentle breeze.

The external sounds were now different – the chainsaw had stopped and the shredder was in action.

The bathroom was immaculate. All the fabrics were white – the window drapes, a long towelling tunic that hung from the back of the door, the towels neatly folded over the towel rail and the candlewick bath mat draped over the side of the bath. The only items on the marble wash-stand top were a long block of soap the size of a brick from which tablets had been cut, a roll-on deodorant, a hair brush and comb, a pot of lip balm, a glass tumbler and a bottle of mouthwash. The cupboard underneath housed a store of toiletries and a box of Natracare 100 natural-cotton tampons. The toiletries were totally unfamiliar, and apart from verifying that they were what their labels proclaimed them to be, Snape paid them scant attention. The roll-on deodorant was from Animal Aid and bore their Purple Monkey accolade; the lavender foam bath and shower gel were from Original Source. The soap turned out to be Buttered Lavender Swirl from Natural Collection, as did the mint-and-fennel toothpaste and mouthwash, the marigold and primrose lip balm and the box of tampons. At a corner of the bath a lavender aroma therapy candle stood in a glass saucer. There were no cosmetics; not in the bedroom, nor here, and certainly no illegal substances.

Snape was running out of ideas. Short of ripping off the bath panel, checking inside the toilet cistern's ball-valve float, stripping the bed or prizing up the floorboards there was nowhere else to search. Apart from special pouches to take a wand, few of Celeste's clothes had pockets, and those that did were empty. Aside from the Muggle telephone and bank account and the question marks in the diary, it was all quite ordinary – the tasteful possessions of a well-read and wealthy young woman living away from home. There was certainly nothing he could immediately use against her.

Snape caught his reflection in the mirror above the sink and the desperate expression of his pale face made him start. Was it really in order to pry like this? He was after all Hogwarts' distinguished Potions Master and Head of its noble House of Slytherin. He was also a noted hero of the Voldemort wars, the proud bearer of the Order of Merlin First Class. Wasn't this snooping rather beneath him?

No, he was right to do it, he told himself. If he thought it was necessary, it was necessary. In his own mind he needed no further justification. He would seek no one else's permission. If he felt cheap doing it, well, he'd have to live with that; one had to live with all sorts of feelings. He turned on his heal and left the bathroom, closing the door quietly behind him.

After a last look around to see that all was in order, Snape unsealed the service panel and then the door to the corridor. He inched the latter open. Within the castle all was as soundless and deserted as before. He stepped into the corridor and was pulling Celeste's door closed behind him when he felt a tug at his hand. Instantaneously an almighty crash reverberated around the sixth floor. Shocked and trembling slightly, he closed the trainee's bed-sitting room door, and strode up the corridor in search of the noise. Of course! He had left all the other doors open and the female prefects' bathroom door had slammed because of the wind surge through the open windows. Stupid, stupid error! He ought to have foreseen that. Cursing himself for an utter fool, he headed for his dungeon chambers to hide the scrap of paper and remove the charm from his hands. Having done so, he glided out into the sunshine.

At the edge of the grounds Filch and Hagrid were wheeling barrow loads of shredded prunings and piling them into a heap near the paddock. A cart had arrived, pulled by a small piebald horse. Celeste was patting the horse and talking to its driver – a skinny, dark man who sat lazily holding the horse's reins. Sprout was nowhere to be seen. Filch and Hagrid lifted the shredder onto the cart and the stranger handed Celeste a scroll of parchment. She read it, queried something and a long discussion started.

From a distance Snape watched them. He judged that they would be occupied for some time so he went in search of McGonagall.

He found the Deputy Headmistress in her classroom and asked to have a word in private with her. Cordially she conducted Snape to her office and motioned him to a chair. She was friendly enough to begin with but when Snape stated his business her mood soon changed.

"I don't understand you, Severus" she said finally. "Just exactly what is the problem?"

"I don't want her in my classroom" he whined.

"Why not?" McGonagall demanded.

"I just don't!" he shouted. It was rare for him to raise his voice and he felt slightly out of control. "She shouldn't have come here" he added more softly. "Had I interviewed her, I would NOT have chosen her."

"You would have been out voted!" McGonagall retorted icily. "You cannot duck out of this, Severus. You are a key member of staff and cannot opt out of staff training. If you detest this young lady so much, let her come to your Monday morning double Potions lessons, then it's over and done with very quickly each week. Slytherins and Ravenclaws indeed – you can thank her for that! I don't understand your attitude about this. Why do you resent her being here? It's not because she's a woman, is it?"

"Don't be ridiculous" he whispered.

But McGonagall knew she had hit somewhere near the truth. She had lost all patience with this now and wanted the issue closed; she had more important things to deal with than prima-donna Potions Masters. She would brook no refusal and relentlessly pressed the matter home. "Monday mornings, Severus. From the seventh. Double Potions. First thing. She WILL attend. That is final!"

Snape glared at her, but knew he had no choice; he could not override the authority of the Deputy Head and to press his demands would only expose their unreasonable nature. He got up and wrenched the door open. Celeste stood outside. Had she heard? How much had she heard? She had obviously come straight from working in the grounds. Her feet were bare; her muddy boots placed to one side of the doorway. "Is Professor McGonagall free, Professor?" she asked Snape.

"Come in, Celeste" McGonagall called. "Severus is just leaving."

In silence Snape stood back, but only just enough, forcing Celeste to brush past him. He sneered at her. Once outside the door he lingered for a second to listen. He heard a rustle of parchment and Celeste's voice saying "This is the invoice for the hire of the chainsaw and shredder."

"This is dearer than I expected."

"I know, Professor, but–"

"This won't do."

"Yes, but–"

Snape grinned. He had heard enough; it seemed the Golden Girl was already losing her glister. Feeling more at peace with the world, he headed back to the dungeons.

The Great Hall was bathed in soft warm candlelight. Celeste was excited to observe the arrival of the students and captivated by the Sorting process. Filch was not at the Start-of-Term Feast – the arrival of the students always disrupted his relaxed holiday routine, but as the Sorting started Madeline Hooch, the Flying Instructor, took Filch's usual seat next to Celeste.

"We didn't do it this way at Beauxbaton" Celeste explained, indicating the students lining up to sit on the stool. "We had four Houses – Descartes, Roland, Suger, Rudel. I was in Rudel; yellow. Each House had just a single colour; red, green, blue and yellow. We were just listed alphabetically, then divided red, green, blue, yellow over and over again. It was only used as a way of splitting us into convenient sized groups for administration. And of course it made things like inter-house Quidditch possible."

"So people of very different characters found themselves together in the same House" Hooch observed. "That might actually be better than what we do here. There's a lot of rivalry between the Houses. It's not very harmonious. But then it all stems from the rivalry between the four founders of course."

"You were in Slytherin weren't you" Celeste ventured.

"Yes. Ha!" Hooch laughed. "The hat nearly put me in Gryffindor; it kept dithering between the two."

"Would you have preferred that?"

"Nah … well … maybe. Long story!"

"So you had Professor Snape for House Master" Celeste ventured again.

"Ye gods, no! How, how old do you think Severus is? He's a year younger than me!" Hooch snorted with suppressed laughter. "I know he looks old but he's only forty-two. No, the reason I wouldn't have minded Gryffindor was because of Sirius Black." She jabbed a thumb towards the handsome but grim-looking Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor who sat in silence at the far end of the table, two seats beyond Snape and next to Adoración Vector the Professor of Aritmancy and Ancient Runes. Normally Hooch sat at right-angles to Black, as Celeste did to Hagrid. "Believe it or not, Sirius was quite a hunk when we were at school" she explained. He was in Gryffindor. Same year as Severus. Didn't have much time for Slytherins though" she added ruefully. "Ah! He was so handsome. And he had a flying motor bike! He was a friend of James Potter and Remus Lupin."

"Remus Lupin? I know him" Celeste exclaimed. "He's a friend of my House Master at Beauxbaton, Septimus Peor! Remus teaches there too, now – Transfiguration, and he's Head of Descartes House."

"Oh well, small world" Hooch observed.

And it was true – the wizarding world was, compared to the Muggle world, very small indeed – almost in some respects like a large family.

As she looked afresh at the faculty staff, Celeste noticed a curious similarity between Black and Snape. Both wizards were stern of countenance, but whereas Snape's expression was often one of anger, Black tended more to sadness – he had at times an almost 'defeated' look, as if he had seen too much anguish. Celeste knew that disposition only too well and she put her next question with a degree of concern. "But what's happened to Sirius" she murmured, looking anxiously as his mass of tangled dull-grey hair and his ashen complexion. Madam Hooch glanced at Black and sighed; then she lowered her gaze to the table top and gripped the edges of the table with her hands.

"He was falsely accused of a dreadful multiple murder and sent to Azkaban" she whispered. "Managed to break out after twelve years."

"You mean he was the escaped convict" Celeste said, astounded. "The first prisoner ever to break out past the Dementors?"

"Yeah, that's him. Do you remember the Peter Pettigrew business, when that whole streetful of Muggles got blasted to death and Sirius Black got arrested? It happened in eighty-one" Hooch added.

"No, I'm not sure I do remember. Eighty-one. I was eleven. I … life was a bit of a mess then." Celeste looked embarrassed.

"We all have our bad patches" Hooch said sympathetically. "I'll fill you in another time about the Black business. The Sorting's almost over."

Celeste's eyes were again drawn to Snape. She recalled how he moved – usually in a swirl of black robes, or marching down a corridor; vigorous and purposeful, with drive and determination. There was a suppressed ambition, a fierce energy, almost an anger in his movements. Now he sat motionless, watching the Sorting in a calm silence. Strange how he embodies both, she mused – furious activity and utter stillness. In the golden light of the many candles, Snape's expression was intense and also now tending towards sadness. But suddenly his head turned slightly to the left and his menacing eyes slid sideways, locking onto hers. It was totally unexpected and caught her off guard. She felt blood rush to her face. Annoyed to find herself blushing, she looked quickly away, covering her confusion by muttering a comment to Hooch. From then on she concentrated very hard on the Sorting.

They watched a boy called Raymond Wardell who was sorted into Gryffindor and two tiny, scared-looking blond-haired twins, David and Jonathan Wilson, who both became Hufflepuffs. Finally a girl called Sarah Woods was directed to Slytherin, the Sorting was complete and Dumbledore rose to make his customary speech of welcome.

"Well, here we are at the start of another year. And let us hope it will be a year very different from the last – a year of calm study and uninterrupted learning. As it happens, you young people will not be the only ones studying this year. We have in our midst a trainee teacher, who will at times be assisting Professor McGonagall with some administrative duties, but is principally here to sit in on lessons and observe the experienced Professors in action. I am sure she will find it all most instructive and quite possibly entertaining. So will you please welcome Miss Celestine Lavelle." Dumbledore paused, and as the broke into polite applause Celeste rose, smiled at everyone and made a modest bow.

"I must also remind you" the Headmaster continued, "that only third years and upwards are allowed out to Hogsmeade on certain weekends, and the forest – which is extremely dangerous – is out of bounds to all students. And now I think I have delayed the feast long enough. Let the feast – begin."

As the banquet got underway Celeste took up her conversation with Hooch. "I'm so used to seeing this hall empty, it's funny to see it full of students stuffing their faces" she remarked.

"Yes, it's great. Great place, Hogwarts" Hooch mused happily.

"I suppose for you it means home."

"It does now. I left. Got married. Widowed – thanks to Voldemort and his Merry Men. Back here. Funny how life works out. (Hooch sighed, and then an idea occurred to her.) Celeste, now that you've finished gardening for this year, what are you going to do for exercise? You look like the sort of person who likes to keep fit."

"Well, I thought I might go for an early morning run" the trainee teacher explained. "That's my usual thing. I always get up early, and I like to have a run before breakfast. I like to swim too. The prefects' bathrooms are on my floor. The baths are big enough to swim in. Before the students arrived I've sometimes gone for a swim late at night. I think I might still do that if the girls' bathroom is empty after ten o'clock."

"Watch out for Filch then" Hooch advised. "He'll spy on you if he gets the chance. He won't touch, but he likes a good leer."

"OK. Thanks for the warning!"

"How about us running together? Do you mind company? An early jog around wouldn't do me any harm."

"Great!"

"I could show you some good routes."

"Thanks, Maddie!"

They began to work out the details of when and where they would meet. Madam Hooch said no more of Sirius Black's life history; they were enjoying the feast and she didn't want to cast a gloom over the evening.


Author's Note: These are genuine...

Green & Black's Organic Hot Chocolate.
QED: The Strange Theory of Light and Matter by Richard P Feynman, published in paperback by Penguin.
The animal welfare organisations Celeste supports (however BUAV does not issue membership cards).
Animal Aid, which is also primarily an organisation campaigning for animal welfare.
Original Source.
Natural Collection – however they have never made quite all the flavours/varieties I chose to put in this story, and unfortunately Buttered Lavender Swirl Soap was discontinued in 2003.