Chapter Seven

(A/N: I want to apologize for the ludicrous wait between chapters, and also to thank anyone who is actually still following this story. Don't ever go to art school if you want to get anything else done. ;))

"What?!"

The house-elf backed up, cowering before Professor Snape's desk. "I-I said that an officer from the Ministry, sir, she wishes to talk to you."

Severus ran his hand through his short hair, nearly pulling it out in his agitation. "I heard that part. What did you say the name was?"

"Now, Severus," Dumbledore broke in, raising his hands in a placating gesture. He turned to the small creature before them, looking kindly down on him. "What was the name of the officer, Dobby?"

"Ch-chavez, sir." The house-elf held up a small, rectangular piece of paper. "Here's the card, sir."

"You should have given me that straight off," Severus snapped, taking the card from the elf. Heart pounding, he turned the card over in his hands, and stared intently at the name.

M.A. Chavez

M.A.

Maria Aurelia. It couldn't stand for anything else.

So she married Gabriel Chavez after all, Severus thought. No surprises there, he was always in love with her. But what is she doing here?

Of course, it could be a coincidence. M.A. could stand for something else, couldn't it? Just another woman of Spanish heritage and similar initials to the girl he had known as a child, that was all.

He didn't believe it for a second.

"Severus?" Dumbledore asked gently.

"She's in the entrance hall, you say?" Severus asked, and Dobby nodded vigorously.

"Would you like me to accompany you, Severus?" Dumbledore asked.

Snape considered. He could not escape talking to Mariela now, no matter what. Dumbledore would be suspicious if he flatly refused to see her, and he had no wish to explain to the headmaster precisely how he knew her. If he had to speak to her at all, it might as well be in private.

"No. No thank you. I will go myself."

"Very well, sir." Dobby bowed, and ducked out the room as quickly as his feet would carry him. After a long moment, Dumbledore turned to leave.

He paused briefly in the doorway, and remarked, in a voice almost inaudible, "If you need assistance, Severus, do not be too proud to ask."

"No, Headmaster. I will be fine."

The door shut with a snap.

He could simply avoid her. Just leave her standing in the entrance hall. She would leave eventually.

Please. You've known her since you were a child. She wouldn't leave. She'd simply pester until she got what she wanted.

You could have instructed the house-elf to lie and say that you were out. You didn't.

He would have to talk to the Ministry sooner or later, if only to find out what they knew. He had been prepared for that. But he had not expected to be forced to see Mariela. Despite his attempts to deny it, Severus had developed a deep distrust for coincidence in all its forms.

Severus did not care at all for indecision. He would make up his mind.

He would see her. And send her away when she was through.

Decision made, Severus thought as he strode through the door to his classroom.

                                       **********************************

Mariela drummed her fingers against the stone wall, unable to find a reassuring rhythm. She turned away from the wall in frustration, only to-

"Madre de Dios!" she cried.

"What a lovely greeting," the tall figure in the beautifully arched doorway replied, stepping into the light.

He still looked very much as he did at age nineteen. He was still tall and lanky, like his father. And yet, the angles of his face were harsher somehow, and his eyes much colder.

I wonder if I look different, Mariela thought, struck by the sudden idea. Perhaps that's why he almost looks right through me.

"I knew it would be you," Severus said, holding up Mariela's card. "Why are you here?"

"I'm here about the attempt on your life yesterday," she replied in her most official tone of voice.

Severus gave her a sideways glance, looking almost amused. "Really. And the Ministry has information?"

Mariela hesitated. "Well…no, actually."

"Then you are here to….what? Wish me a speedy recovery?"

"Cut the sarcasm," Mariela snapped. "I'm here to talk to you about what happened. Officially, the Ministry has called off the investigation-"

"In that case," Severus replied, cutting her off, "You shouldn't be here at all, should you? It could be considered….against the rules, couldn't it?"

"If I were here on duty, yes," Mariela replied. There was no point in trying to deceive him. "But I'm not here as a Ministry official."

She took a deep breath. "I'm here as a friend."

                                    *************************************

I'm here as a friend.

Damn you, you foolish woman! Still as annoyingly  persistent as ever, Mariela. Still so naïve, so in the dark. You don't know why I left, you haven't seen me in years, and yet you come to me as a friend?

He wasn't the same person anymore. It was a simple, undeniable truth. But Mariela…she was the same. She would never understand, not in a thousand years.

"As a friend, Mariela? Or 'Mrs. Chavez', I suppose I should call you now."

"Whatever you prefer," Mariela replied impatiently. "Just answer me this--did you see who attacked you?"

Severus gave a short, derisive laugh. "If I had, I would not have left enough of him to stuff a matchbox with!"

Mariela raised a dark eyebrow. "I'll take that as a no. Did you hear anything, at least?"

So the Ministry knows nothing, Snape thought, attempting to push his memory of the man's laughter out of his mind. In that case, this conversation has served its purpose...and I cannot look at Mariela much longer. She reminds me of the past--and that is never a positive thing.

"I still don't see what business it is of yours, Mariela," Severus replied, turning to leave. "Good day."

She stepped in front of him, blocking his path. "Oh, no you don't."

"Get out of my way!"

"That was rude," she countered. "And here I thought your father raised you to be a gentleman!"

Her words hit with such force that Severus was sure for a moment that she had cursed him. However, he managed to recover quickly.

"Never mention him in my presence," he hissed, looming over her like a rattlesnake poised to attack.  "He is out of my life!"

"The attack's worried him," Mariela said quietly, looking up at him. Her brown eyes seemed to burn into his black ones. "He's as proud and arrogant as you are, so of course he won't say so. Truth be told, he didn't treat me any better than you just did."

That isn't like Father, Severus thought, his mind racing. He is usually courteous...when he isn't turning his only son out of the house, anyway. And he's never spoken harshly with Mariela, not that I can remember.

But it changed nothing.

Mariela's features softened, as she stepped closer to him. To his surprise, he did not back away.

"Even if the Ministry has decided the case is closed, I don't agree with them," she informed him. "What's more, if there's someone out there attacking people, they shouldn't remain loose. If you won't think of yourself, think of the others who could get hurt if we don't find the perpetrator!"

He could tell her. He could tell her what he knew, of the voice he had heard just before the explosion...and of the laughter that haunted his dreams. And she would put the information to good use--the woman had a knack for unearthing the truth.

But some truths should remain hidden, Mariela. Or at least, left in the hands of those best equipped to handle it. Someone wants me put out of the way, and I am not willing to risk any unnecessary casualties. Not even my father. Or you, Mariela.

"You cannot help me," he said, feeling strangely devoid of emotion. "And I can tell you nothing. Now let me pass, or I will have our gamekeeper escort you out."

"I'm not holding you prisoner," Mariela replied. "So there's no need for threats. But if you do remember anything, if you need help...don't be too proud to ask for it."

Snape looked at her in surprise, though he tried to mask it. She stood aside for him, and he swept past her.

When he reached the end of the corridor, he turned once more.

"Go home, Mariela," he said. "Go back to your perfect life...and forget me."

He pushed open the door, and let it close behind him.

The sound created a booming echo in the ancient hall. 

                                                *********************

"Excuse me, sir!"

Remus Lupin broke into a run, every footstep bringing him closer, until at last he was facing a tall, white-haired wizard.

"What is it?" the wizard asked. "And you'd better make this good, son, I haven't got much time."

"Are you Alexander Bertram, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?" he asked.

"I am," Bertram replied. "Just Bertram will do. Can I help you?"

"Can you tell me where I can find a Mariela Chavez?"

Remus had been scouring the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for the better part of a half an hour in search of this woman. He was beginning to wonder if he'd simply imagined her.

Bertram ignored the question, and stepped closer to Remus. "Who are you?"

"My name is Remus Lupin, sir. I spoke to Officer Chavez yesterday, at the cemetery-"


"Oh," the older wizard said. "Sorry, but we can't be too careful nowadays. You were a witness to the crime?"

"Not exactly," Remus replied. "But the wizard who was attacked is a...er...friend of mine."

I'm glad Snape is nowhere near, he thought. I don't want to think about how he'd react to what I just said!

"I see," Bertram replied with a resigned sigh. "Well, I'm sorry about your friend, and I hope he's recovered. As for Chavez, I sent her home earlier. The investigation was called off--"

"What?" Remus asked. I can't have heard that right. Did he just say...

"The investigation was called off." Bertram repeated the words slowly, as though Remus were learning English for the first time.

"Why?"

"I don't know. Are you a reporter, son?"

Remus almost laughed. This was the second time in two days that someone had asked him that. "No, sir. Would it be all right if I left Officer Chavez a note in her office?"

Bertram considered carefully. "I suppose," he said reluctantly. "But I'll escort you there myself, and out of the building when you're through."

"I understand perfectly," Remus replied politely. He had expected that.


Alexander Bertram regarded him suspiciously, and motioned for Remus to follow him.

Several younger witches and wizards scurried out of Bertram's way as he led Remus down the corridor. Only a few streaks of light managed to filter through the narrow window, and Remus felt more than a little claustrophobic.

A few moments later, Bertram stopped in front of a door. After tapping it with his wand, he murmured something under his breath--a password, Remus guessed. The door swung open, and Bertram stepped aside to allow him into the office.

                                           **************************************

I'll have to fly back to the office, if I want to make it in without being noticed.

Mariela had always found Muggle expressions amusing. For example, they talked of 'flying' places to mean 'going somewhere very quickly'. But she was literally flying--on a broomstick.

Well, give me the high life, she thought, sorry that Septimus wasn't around to appreciate her terrible pun. But then, he had been so strange lately.

She did love to fly, and though she was tempted to take her time about it, she managed to arrive back at the office in less than an hour.

The receptionist was so used to seeing her that he probably wouldn't have looked twice, even if he hadn't been absorbed in his book (Wizards' Guide to Wooing Witches, Mariela noted as she tried valiantly not to laugh.) There was no use in attracting undue attention.

She made her way down the familiar hallways. Most people, it seemed, were out on duty, or in their offices working. In either case, it worked well for her. It would be awkward to run into anyone--especially Mr. Bertram--after she'd been dismissed for the day. Bertram was no fool, he'd want an explanation.

Mariela was so focused on her thoughts that she didn't even notice the figure coming from the opposite end of the hallway, until--

"Ooof!"

"Watch where you're going!" Mariela snapped, jarred out of her reverie.

""Chavez, is that you?" Alexander Bertram demanded, bending down to help up his companion, the man who Mariela had knocked down.

"Yes, sir," Mariela replied, as the man got back to his feet. It was then that he brushed the light brown hair out of his eyes, and she recognized him.

"You!" she cried, before her manners could assert themselves.

"Officer Chavez," he greeted her calmly.

"We were just looking for you," Bertram put in, looking from Mariela to the brown-haired man. "Mr. Lupin here left a note in your office. Might I ask what you're doing back here, Chavez?"

"I forgot that I had an appointment to see Mr. Lupin," Mariela replied, not batting an eyelash. "You know me."

Bertram rolled his eyes skyward. "I do indeed. Why the devil didn't you mention you had an appointment, Mr. Lupin?"

"I'm afraid that I am not well-versed in the workings of the Ministry," Lupin replied. "It didn't occur to me."

Alexander sighed. "Oh, very well. But remember what I told you, Chavez—the case is closed. Don't go beating at stone walls."

"Yes, sir," Mariela responded obediently.

Bertram looked as though he didn't believe her for a second, and threw them both a glance as he made his way back down the hall.

When he was safely around the corner, Mariela rounded on Lupin. "Well?"

************************************

"So, what do you think?" Loki asked, leaning back in his chair.

"That you're crazy," Anthony replied, frowning at the map that was spread out between them on the small card table in his hotel room.

"No, I'm not. No one's used it in years, and no one wants to. It's completely isolated."

"But the Shrieking Shack?" Anthony demanded. "I'm not that much of a fool, Lestrange. Everyone in these islands knows that it's haunted."

"No, everyone believes that it's haunted," Loki responded, raising one eyebrow sardonically. "Don't you read, McKinnon? The Shack was built in the 1970s, but no one knows precisely why. All anyone knows is that around that time they heard mad shrieks and howls, and decided that it was haunted. But," he went on significantly. "Those sounds only occurred once a month. At the full moon."

Anthony stared for a moment. Once a month—but that would mean---either a poltergeist reenacting the same event at the same time each month, or—

"A werewolf?" he asked.

"What's more, the land is owned by Professor Minerva McGonagall of Hogwarts," Loki continued. "And a student later discovered to be a werewolf was admitted that year."

"How do you know all this?"

Loki shrugged, the smirk never leaving his mouth. "I talk to the right people, and they point me in the right directions. From there, all any bloke has to do is use his head. That place isn't haunted, which makes it perfect for your little revenge crusade."

"But no one can get in there, Lestrange!"

Anthony didn't really think this would be a problem for someone like Loki, but he felt the need to say it just the same. He didn't like this young man, or trust him in the least. Still, he had to wonder…

What kind of people raised you? Why are you this way to begin with?

His own foster mother, Marguerite, was a kind but misguided woman. After his adoption, she had put away the pictures of his parents, hoping to wipe the memory of that horrible night from his memory forever.

Anthony had pretended, for her sake, that he didn't remember. He couldn't speak of it to her, or to his foster father Henri. They wouldn't have understood—and how could they?

When he was sixteen, he found his parents' photographs in the attic. He'd taken them into his bedroom, and they had stayed with him ever since. Looking at those faces that he could barely remember, he wanted more than ever to bring their killers to justice, so they could rest in peace at last.

Or is it so that you can rest in peace at last? An irritating voice in the back of his mind demanded.

"No one outside Hogwarts, it's true," Loki replied, chuckling. "And I doubt Professor McGonagall's going to hand over the key. But you know someone at Hogwarts, don't you? Someone close to Snape?"

"If you mean Fleur Delacour—"

"Of course I do. You're a handsome lad, as the maiden ladies say. She's a beautiful girl. You do the math."

Anthony almost hexed Loki on the spot. Fleur was a bit self-centered, it was true, but she hardly deserved to be used that way.

"We'll have to find another way," he snapped. "And get your filthy ideas out of the gutter, Lestrange, she isn't that kind of girl."

Lestrange put his hands in the air in a mock surrender. "If you say so, McKinnon. Now, what do you say to some dinner? All this planning for another wizard's demise makes a man hungry."