Disclaimer: See Chapter One
-CHAPTER SEVEN-
Visit to Hogsmeade
The days past by slowly and uneventful until, to everyone's great excitement, the posters announcing the first visit to the village of Hogmeade were pinned to the notice boards in the corridors and common rooms. Ever since Fred and George had told them about the delights of Hogmeade, the only entirely non-muggle settlement in Britain with its famous sweetshop, Honeydukes, Ron drooled every time someone mentioned it. Harry was still surprised that Uncle Vernon had signed his permission form allowing him to go as students weren't allowed to leave the castle grounds without it. He could only guess that Uncle Vernon had been so relieved to see that back of him at the end of the summer holidays that he had signed the parchment slip in the hope that Harry would have a misfortunate accident in the village and never return to Number Four, Privet Drive. It hadn't really been Harry's fault that his greedy cousin, Dudley, had eaten more than his fair share of cream cakes and ended up being sick all over Aunt Marge who had rather foolishly, Harry thought, bought too many cream cakes in the first place. But naturally, Uncle Vernon had blamed Harry snatching his single and rather small chocolate éclair from his hand and sent him up to his room. Not that Harry had minded, the cream in the chocolate éclair tasted as if it was about to turn sour in the heat and he was glad to get away from the obnoxious Aunt Marge.
So on the Friday morning before the Hogmeade visit Harry woke up in a most cheerful mood, even the prospect of double Potions with Snape and a test in Defence of the Dark Arts didn't seem to matter, he just focused his thoughts upon finding Honeydukes' and treating himself to several galleons-worth of sweets.
Professor Snape swept into the dungeon, his black robes billowing behind him; he placed a thin black box upon his desk and then walked to the front of the class.
"Today we are going to study the fascinating subject of poisons, their brewing and applications." A deathly hush fell over the class.
"The best and most common way of administering a deadly poison is to trick, or in failing that, force your intended victim into digesting it by concealing the poison in food or liquid. Other methods are absorption through the skin via a liquid or powered mixture or inhalation by a poison of a gaseous nature. Who can tell me what's the primary ingredient used in most poisonous drafts?" Snape's dark eyebrows arched in surprise as Neville Longbottom's hand shot into the air.
"Longbottom?" questioned Snape, giving Neville a challenging glare.
"Aconite, sir," said Neville in a quiet but determined squeak.
"Correct," Snape replied unable to hide the astonishment in his voice. Harry waited for Snape to reward his fellow Gryffindor with some points towards the house cup for his correct answer; it wasn't often that Neville got anything right in potions. But Snape continued without awarding Neville even one point as he turned his attention towards two large glass jars containing diced up roots that Harry assumed they must have harvested in Herbology at the start of term. "It would seem, Longbottom, that something has finally penetrated that thick skull of yours." Harry could feel a burning anger rising up within him, he knew how terrified Neville was of Professor Snape so it must have taken him all his courage to risk getting the wrong answer, and it was just so unfair.
"Aconite is the main ingredient used in most poisonous drafts. It has a specific bitter flavour that can never be completely masked by other ingredients that may have been added to the mixture…As being able to recognise Aconite's distinct flavour could save your miserable little lives one day I have arranged a brief tasting session for you. There is no need to look so alarmed as much as I would love to poison some members of this class." Snape smiled his dark eyes flashing in the direction of Harry. "I am sure the headmaster wouldn't approve so what I am going to give you is a root that tastes just like Aconite." Snape wandered about the class distributing the diced root from the glass jar as if it was candy. "Now the amount of the Nocturus Bane root I have given you won't kill you, if I had given you Aconite however then I am afraid without the correct antidote none of you would have made it through the night. But I have informed Madam Pomfrey in the event that someone suffers an allergy reaction to the plant…None of you are allergic to the Nocturus Bane root?"
Snape was greeted with silence. "Good…now I want you to place the root in your mouth, don't swallow as I want you to concentrate on the taste." There were some anxious looks exchanged even Draco Malfoy didn't seem too keen to be the first to try the Nocturus Bane root. Harry glanced at Ron and together, after the count of three they popped the root into their mouths. Harry pulled a face as his tongue stung with the intense bitterness, while Ron looked as if he was going to be sick; he spat the root out into his hand, much to the disapproval of Snape.
"A unique favour, isn't it Mr Weasley?" Snape commented with a smile as he watched with glee the revolted reactions of the class. "There are actually some people who are rather fond of the taste, especially if the bitterness is off set with something sweet such as sugary pastries or chocolate. About twenty years ago it was quite fashionable among the young and trendy to finish off a dinner party with chocolate fondue infused with the Nocturus Bane root which tastes very much like Aconite, shock valve I suppose." Harry could help but smirk, he couldn't imagine Snape ever being young or trendy enough to hold a dinner party, besides who would he invite? Planchette seemed to be his only friend, mind you, he could eat for several people.
"And for a time, one could purchase Nocturus Bane root flavoured confectionaries, but don't bothering going to look for them in Honeydukes' tomorrow as these had to be withdrawn, it was far too easy for someone to add the real thing to the sweets. But even a small amount of Aconite can produce symptoms of restlessness, salivation, nausea, a weakened and irregular heart beat, chest pains and frequently…death, within hours so only a fool would carry on eating something that once bitten into tasted with even the slightest hint of Aconite. Now I want you all to carefully prepare the antidote for Aconite and at the end of this lesson I am going to poison someone with the real thing." Snape turned to look at Harry with an evil smile, he might have known Snape would pick him out.
"Well? Get to it," Snape snapped as he swept over to his desk.
"Don't worry," whispered Hermione as she opened up her copy of Magical Drafts and Potions. "This doesn't look too hard."
"That's easy for you to say, Snape isn't intending on poisoning you," Harry returned darkly.
"In silence," Snape snapped as he set a blue flame alight under his cauldron. Harry frowned, Snape didn't usually prepare potions while the class worked, he knew better with the likes of Neville and Ron to become too distracted. So naturally this sparked Harry's curiosity.
"He's up to something," he risked whispering to Hermione. "Can you work on the antidote while I watch Snape?"
"Sure," Hermione grinned. "I could mix this in my sleep…but be careful if he catches you…"
"Don't worry I will be," Harry insisted.
From his seat in the second row of work benches Harry's view of Snape was partly obstructed by the heads of his fellow students in front, for which he was usually thankful. Harry watched Snape take a handful of roots from one of the glass jars but Crabbe's large head was in the way; Harry couldn't read the labels. Snape took two test tubes from a wooden rack in front of him, one was filled with a pale orange liquid, the other something black. He poured both liquids into the cauldron, and then crushed the pieces of root with a marble pestle and mortar, adding this to the now simmering mixture. Snape traced his long ashen finger along the page of the book he was looking at as he silently read, a gratified smile played upon his pale, thin lips. Harry watched as Snape, who was now so engrossed with what he was doing, added a couple of drops from a tube of clear solution into the cauldron which hissed and bubbled, orange fumes spiralling from it.
Snape then carefully lifted the lid off the black box and carefully unfolding the red tissue paper to reveal the contents; hand-made chocolates.
"I don't expect one less will make a lot of difference," Snape muttered to Byron who was sitting on the other side of the desk, idly preening her glossy feathers as he popped one of the truffles into his mouth. After stirring the mixture for several minutes Snape, barely flinching as he dipped a finger into the depths of the steaming cauldron, scooping out a dollop of a sticky black substance. He examined it thoughtfully for a moment then licked it off the tip of his finger, making a face very similar to that Ron had made just before he had spat out the sliver of Nocturus Bane root. Harry felt his stomach sicken; jumping as with an ominous scrape of his chair upon the stone floor Snape stood up and glanced in his direction. Quickly Harry returned to his attention back to his own cauldron that thanks to Hermione was now filled with a dark green mixture that was bubbling away merrily. Snape watched Harry, his black eyes glinting with suspicion but said nothing and took the rack of test tubes to a sink in a shadowy corner of the dungeon, returning with an empty glass breaker and pipette. Snape then sat down back down again and proceeded to pour off a little of the black, gooey mixture that was still simmering in his cauldron. Harry thought he caught a faint odour of citrus upon the damp, stagnant air of the dungeon. But this was soon replaced by the smell of melting chocolate as Snape carefully deposited a few drops of the mixture from the pipette onto each of the truffles that sizzled as the hot goo hit them. Then Snape took up his ebony wand and waved it over the melting confectionery restoring them in appearance to their original form. Snape smiled with wicked satisfaction, looking very pleased with himself as he pushed the chocolates together to conceal the missing one and then gently recovered them in the red tissue paper and replaced the lid. He was just about to clear away the glass breaker, which still held some of the black goo when Neville's cauldron suddenly exploded with a blue flash, splattering the mixture that had been bubbling within over several pupils including Neville and Ron.
"Who was that?" Snape snapped, nearly jumping out of his sallow skin, dropping the breaker that hit the surface of his desk and shattered, splashing him with the still scolding black goo. Bryon cawed loudly and flew up the safety of the book shelves behind Snape. Strange, thought Harry, why's he so jumpy? Snape usually didn't bat an eyelid at the various explosions that occurred on a regular basis in his classroom.
"Who was it?" Snape hissed in pain, clutching at his scalded hand.
"It was Neville," Malfoy piped up trying unsuccessfully to sound innocent, he flashed a sneer at Harry, who glared back.
"Clear up that mess Longbottom, you can help him Weasley, looks like your earlier little achievement must have burn out those tiny grey cells of yours."
Hermione looked at Harry. "That's not fair," she whispered.
"Neither is life Miss Granger, ten points from Gryffindor for your cheek." Harry went to protest, the anger starting to seethe within him once again, he almost wished someone would kill Snape, but a stern look from Hermione stopped him. It wouldn't do any of them any good; only lose more points for their house, besides he didn't want to give Snape the satisfaction of giving him detention or worse stop them going the Hogmeade.
They were all glad when finally climbed the steps out of the dungeon, Snape had begrudgingly abandoned the class ten minutes early, his hand was now badly blistered and he had been more concerned about seeing Madam Pomfrey then administering a poison to Harry. Harry didn't know what have given Snape more pain the burn to his hand or the fact that he hadn't been able to poison him, Harry should have been relieved having escaped being used a the class guinea-pig, but his face was furrowed with anxiety.
"Are you sure?" Hermione asked now looking equally worried after Harry had told her and Ron what Snape had been doing to the chocolates, as they walked to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. They all froze as they saw Snape standing in the classroom doorway, along with Professor Planchette.
"I'm presuming that these were left by you Severus," said Professor Raven holding out the box of chocolates. Snape just smiled thinly, he was trying to hide his bandaged hand beneath the dark folds of his robe. "It's a kind thought but I really can't accept them. I mean…"
"Nonsense, Morwenna," Professor Planchette chuckled as he pulled the box from her hand and whipped off the lid. "Truffles...goodie, my favourite!"
"But…but..." Snape started to protest as Planchette popped the biggest truffle into his mouth. "Mon dieu…zat's disgusting, tastes like…like Aconite" he retorted spitting the chocolate into his hand. "What are you trying to do Severus, poisoned us?"
"Don't be so stupid Leon…" said Professor Raven picking up one of the chocolates and taking a small bite. "Goodness Severus…you haven't…"
"Disappearum," Ron blurted. The truffle and the rest of the box suddenly vanished in puff of blue smoke.
"Mr Weasley," gasped Professor Raven in surprise.
"You idiot boy," Snape rounded on him, spitting enraged, dark eyes ablaze with hatred. "The use of magic is strictly forbidden in the corridors…"
"I..I'm sorry," Ron stuttered in reply as he shrank back from the Potions Master, who had obviously gone insane. "I…I was so nervous about the test…" Snape gave him an anger snarl and glared at Ron all the more hatefully.
"Come on Severus…Monsieur Weasley meant no 'arm, besides zose truffle were 'orrible."
"I do not care, Weasley is constantly flouting school rules. He needs to be punished; he shouldn't be allowed to go to Hogmeade tomorrow," Snape snapped.
"Zat is a bit 'arsh Severus," Planchette gasped, Hermione shot a considered look at Harry who was clenching his fists in outrage at Snape's unjustified cruelness.
"Then…Severus, as it was my truffles that Mr Weasley made disappear I believe that I should punish him," said Professor Raven, she regarded Snape sternly with her dazzling violet eyes. Snape snorted but didn't argue. "Mr Weasley, I shall expect you, here for detention with me after dinner, is that clear?"
"Yes…yes Professor Raven," Ron replied, his face slightly pink, flooded with relief.
"Do you really think…?" Snape started to protest, glaring at Ron.
"Come on Severus, don't be such a terrible bore, of course ze boy should still be allowed to go to 'Ogmeade. You should come with us, it can't be 'ealthy skulking about in zose gloomy dungeons all ze time with only zat raven for company, you do look awfully pasty," Planchette observed in a thoughtfully concerned tone. "I'm taking Morwenna to see a band at ze zree Broomsticks, you are very welcome to join us, ze more ze merrier I say. I mean when was ze last time you 'ad a really good night out?"
"What I choose to do with my weekends is no concern of yours," Snape hissed, his dark eyes narrowing to slits, quickly passed from Planchette to Professor Raven and back again, Harry guessed Planchette must have just struck a very raw nerve. "Unlike you, who can just pick up any old book on magical artefacts and recite from it parrot fashion, my lessons require very careful and detailed planning, I haven't got the time to go gadding it about in Hogmeade."
"Pity," Planchette sighed. "Because if you did zen perhaps you wouldn't be so up-tight all ze time," Planchette returned, with a forced smile that only seemed to enrage Snape all the more. He muttered something cruel under his breath and stormed down the corridor.
"Oh…give it a rest Ron," Hermione snapped, as he told them for the umpteen time how he had helped Professor Raven make an inventory of all the books in her classroom. The detention had taken two hours, there had been awful lot of books and Ron had insisted on completing the task. Funny, thought Harry with a grin as they all walked down the main street of Hogmeade in search of Honeydukes, if it had been any other teacher Ron would have found the detention beyond boredom but as it had been Professor Raven Ron must have thought he had died and gone to heaven! Hermione however did not hold the same opinion as Harry. She was just as angry that Ron had been given detention and guessed Professor Raven, who she really admired, had only stepped in to stop Snape preventing Ron being allowed to visit the village, but she was beginning to find Ron's enthusiasm for their Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher highly irritating.
Even before they reached the door of Honeydukes', it was as if the very air was thick enough to take a bite from, so sweet and syrupy. The shop-front had a large window in which all kind of delicious confectionery was displayed in boxes lined with brilliant white or dark crimson tissue paper.
"This must have been where Snape got those truffles," whispered Hermione pointing to a small box of truffles. Ron gave her a cagey glance; she had already given him a lecture on what he had thought had been pretty quick thinking on his part, destroying the evidence. But Harry still felt light-hearted; he was enjoying the freedom and couldn't help but grin thinking how envious his cousin Dudley would be right now if he only knew. Harry pictured his faced pressed up against the glass, his little piggy eyes bulging in greedy anticipation as he eyed up all the mouth-watering treats in the window, Harry almost felt sorry for Dudley…almost.
"Come on," urged Ron impatiently, tugging at Harry's sleeve, he was eager to get into the already crowd shop and blow all his pocket money for that term on sweets. The most wonderful smell of sugary citrus and rich chocolate flooded their nostrils as Ron pushed open the door. At the back of the shop was a long counter with an old-fashioned brass till and behind this was several shelves, upon which were tall glass jars similar to the ones in Snape's classroom only these were filled not with vile dead things, but sweets of every colour and shape imaginable. There was a large barrel filled to the brim with Every Flavour Beans, and another with Fizzing Whizzbees, levitating sherbet balls. Harry pushed pass some fifth years to find Ron staring at the neat rows of chocolate truffles that were in a glass display cabinet.
"Double chocolate, lemon and lime, rum, coffee, vanilla fudge…which favourite do you think is Professor Raven's favourite?" he asked Harry looking perplexed.
"I don't know Ron," Harry shrugged glancing at the fancy black price labels, written in a silver pen and attached to the boxes with a red ribbon. "Are you sure you want to buy her a box of truffles? I mean they are rather expensive, even for the smaller boxes."
"Why shouldn't I?" Ron snapped indignantly as he looked mournfully down at the small collection of silver Sickles and bronze Knuts in the palm of his hand. "I've just enough for one of the smallest boxes."
"Only…I was only thinking that if you did that wouldn't leave you enough for even a chocolate frog. Wouldn't it make more sense to wait until Christmas, that way, you've got time to find out what her favourite flavour is and get her a decent sized box, your mum always sends you money to get presents?" Ron looked longingly at the truffles and then let out a reluctant sigh. "I suppose you're right, and I did fancy getting some Fizzing Whizzbees and a couple bars of nougat."
After they had left Honeydukes, the pockets of their cloaks all budging with sweet goodies, Hermione, Lavender and Parvati decided to go and explore the shops, Lavender had spotted a dress bouquet; there was a squeal from Parvati as someone mentioned the Halloween Ball, who also wanted to look for a crystal ball. Hermione spied Lucy Featherstone amongst a group of Ravenclaws across the street, Lucy held up a square brown paper package tied with string and mouthed 'I've got that picture framed' with a wink.
"Clothes shopping? How boring can you get, I don't understand why girls get so excited about it," Ron scoffed looking at Harry and Neville, who both shrugged. "Let's go up to the Shrieking Shack and made a start on our sweets," Ron suggested. Neville suddenly went white, "I…I don't know," he stuttered looking anxiously at Harry. "Even the Hogwarts' ghosts don't go near it, well, that's what Nearly Headless Nick told me," gulped Neville glancing in the direction of the shack.
"Come on, Neville," Harry smiled. "It'll be alright, we'll just sit on the lawn opposite. It's no use trying to get in anyway; Fred and George have tried and if they can't find a way in then no one can."
The Shrieking Shack, the most haunted building in Britain, stood upon a grass slope a little way above the rest of the village. As the three of them approached the shack, with its wild over-grown garden and boarded up windows, Harry thought that it did look rather creepy, even in the brilliant sunshine.
"Blimely! it's a right old dump," Ron retorted with slight disappointment as he leant up against the fence, looking up at the dull, grey building, chewing on his nougat bar.
"If you say so," Neville replied bravely, but still looking quite pale.
"In fact, I reckon that's just the sort of place Snape lives in when his not at Hogwarts," he grinned to which Neville managed a weak smile.
"Yeah…and I bet that place is still better than your hovel, Weasley?" they all turned to see Draco Malfoy standing behind them, sneering spitefully, while Crabbed and Goyle sniggered behind him. Malfoy looked up at the old, crumbling shack with an air of disgust.
"At least if you lived there you might have your own bedroom, is it true that your family all have to sleep in one room?"
"Why you…" Ron lunged at Malfoy, his teeth bared, hands clenched tightly into fists, ready to punch that conceited smile clean off Malfoy's face.
"Go on Weasley, if you dare," Malfoy taunted with a hiss as he took a step towards Ron, Crabbe and Goyle, like malevolent bodyguards took up positions beside Malfoy.
"Don't do it," Harry cautioned, placing a hand upon Ron's shoulder. "He's not worth it."
"Weasley's just scared," Malfoy scoffed in malicious delight, he wasn't going to let Ron live this one down, by the end of the evening the whole of Slytherin would know what a coward he was.
SPLAT!
"What…what was that?" suddenly asked Neville, nearly jumping out of his skin as something hit the ground inches from Malfoy's feet.
"Shut it Longbottom," Malfoy glared. "So, are you going to fight me or not Weasley…or perhaps your family honour isn't worth defending, I mean you're only Weasley after all…ouch!" Malfoy head jerked forward as something hit him square in the back of the head, a clod of wet, stick mud covered his blond hair and slowly trickled down his neck. He spun around, looking up at the shack, trying to wipe the mud from his collar; Neville didn't wait to see if he was next in line to be on the receiving end of this ghostly mud, he had already vanished back down the slope.
SPLATTER!
Another clump, even larger this time, hit the ground and covered both Crabbe and Goyle in mud. They exchanged scared glances, their bulging muscles were no use against ghosts and so they followed Neville example, running as fast as their leg would carry them away from the Shrieking Shack. With Crabbe and Goyle now gone, Malfoy didn't look so brave, another splattering of mud, this time hitting him just above the knee and he too made a swift exit. Harry looked apprehensively at Ron who was still all tensed up and flushed in the face and looked all set to break into the shack and confront the phantom that had disrupted the fight. To both of their surprise, there was no more slinging of mud and as they finally walked down the slope back into the village to find Neville, Harry though he heard a chuckle, caught upon the breeze.
It was quarter to six by the time they had all finally arrive at the entrance to the Three Broomsticks. Harry was just wondering if they would make it back to the castle in time for the evening meal when Ron dragged him over to look at something pinned to the door. It was a poster announcing that Beltaine would be playing in the pub that night and half past six.
"That must be the band Planchette was taking Professor Raven to see," he exclaimed excitedly. There was a snort from Hermione who was showing Lavender something at the bottom of a dark green paper bag. Lavender gasped with shrill approval and then thrust a golden, spangled shawl at her.
"Who are Beltaine?" asked Harry as he studied the poster, the figures which stood in a group, some with instruments all smiled back at him.
"I've never heard of them," Ron shrugged. "But I am guessing they play wizard folkmusic by the looks of them."
"And what is wrong with traditional music…I suppose you prefer wizard rock zen?" Ron nearly jumped out of his skin heard the smooth voice of Professor Planchette behind him, wiping what looked suspiciously like mud from his hands with his lace-trimmed handkerchief. He gave Harry a sly wink as he glace down at his watch.
"Ah, Morwenna, right on time," Planchette beamed holding out an arm for her to take. "I was just about to tell Monsieur Weasley about ze delights of traditional music…by ze way,mon cher you look truly exquisite."
Professor Raven blushed slightly but Planchette was right she seemed to look even more beautiful. Bathed in the moonlight her long, black hair, which was streaked red and swept up off her face into a cascade of ringlets seemed to have taken on a silvery glow. She wore an ankle length gown of delicate cobweb lace and black shoes with a stout heel and large silver buckles.
"Maybe the children would like to watch the band with us?" suggested Professor Raven. "I am sure that Professor McGonagall wouldn't mind as long as they promise to stay in the pub and refrained from trying any of the alcohol."
"Excellent idea…zey can get a 'ead start what with the 'Alloween Ball coming up," Planchette enthused dreamily.
"What does he mean?" asked Harry as they all settle around a table just to the side of a small raised stage.
"Dancing, stupid." Hermione rolled her eyes in teasing disgust. "We've already been through this…there's going to be dancing at the ball."
"Everyone 'as to dress up and everyone 'as to dance," smile Planchette.
"What even Snape?" Ron couldn't help but ask.
"Er…yes even Professor Snape," said Planchette.
"As I remember, Severus isn't much of a dancer," replied Professor Raven quietly.
"Zat is true, you would zink 'e would 'ave learnt by now, 'ow else is 'e going to woo the ladies. I mean 'e is not ze most 'andsome of wizards no? I zink 'e would be a lot 'appier if 'e was getting a little l'amour."
"Leon," Professor Raven scolded glancing at Harry, Hermione and Ron, who were all trying their very best not to erupt into giggles.
"I am sorry, forgive me Morwenna," Planchette replied gently taking her hand and kissing it. "But I zink I am right…no? I just can not understand why Severus would prefer to mark 'omework zan be in ze company of a beautiful woman, but zen…" he shrugged "I am French and 'e is not. Ze English are still a mystery, so reserved and frosty."
Professor Planchette ordered them tankards of Butterbeer, while he had a pint glass of mulled mead.
"I am afraid, zey don't do Dragon's Blood wine, I zink it's a bit too specialized for 'ere, but ze new barmaid said she would ask Madam Rosmerta if zey could get a bottle in for you. I got you an orange and chocolate rum, I 'ope zat is alright?" Professor Planchette looked back over his shoulder at the bar, where a very pretty blond witch wearing a tight cerise t-shirt, and big hoop earrings that would have made even Professor Trelawney envious, was busily helping Madam Rosmerta as the Three Broomstick was beginning to fill up now and the atmosphere was vibrant and expectant.
"Thank-you Leon, you remembered," Professor Raven replied with a smile, taking the tall, thin glass from his hand.
"How could I forget, a woman after my own 'eart although I prefer ze double chocolate."
"Why doesn't that surprise me..." muttered Ron under his breath with a grin.
"Well, at least we now know what truffles to buy her at Christmas; chocolate orange," Harry whispered back with a nudge. It was then that the band walked onto the small stage, greeted by rapturous applause, especially from Professor Planchette, who clapped his hands most excitedly.
The leader singer of Beltaine was a tiny, slight woman with a striking face and wild flame coloured hair. She wore a long dark blue velvet gown and a silver shawl. The other members of the band consisted of another pretty witch, who could have been the singer's sister; she was dressed purple and held a fiddle in her hand, a shaggy haired giant also had a fiddle. There was a skinny, wrinkled wizard in red robes with long grey hair, who positioned a small drum been his knees. And Harry guessed must have been a leprechaun dressed in a bottle green suit and hat with a golden pipe in his tiny hand.
"Good evening," smiled the singer (who Planchette informed them was called Isabelle Moon) in a broad Irish accent. "This opening number roughly translated from the original Gaelic language is entitled 'As The Owl Flies' and is among one of the earliest pieces of magical music. A hush fell over everyone as the fiddles, drum and pipe started to play, then the singer's beautifully rich voice filled the air as a thin green mist crept over the stage. The next three songs were very similar in tempo, haunting ballads that the siren-like vocals although sung in Gaelic seemed to conjure up pictures of beautiful windswept castles, fair witches and brave wizards. Professor Raven sat quietly, a slender, pale hand tapping the rhythm out upon her knee, while Planchette was on the edge of his seat, totally enchanted.
"I think Planchette taken a fancy to Isabelle Moon," Harry whispered in Ron's ear.
"Well 'e is French," Ron grinned in return "First Professor Raven, then that new barmaid and now Isabelle Moon…a bit of a ladies man Planchette, you better watch out Hermione, he'll be chatting you up next!"
But Hermione's reply was drowned out the rapturous applause from the audience as Isabelle Moon stopped singing and took a bow.
"Thank you," she replied taking a sip from a bottle of Gillywater, that had been at her feet. "Now I am going to let the band liven things up with a few traditional jigs, so if anyone out there feels like dancing…then be my guest." And with that she took a seat upon a high stool at the side of the stage. The music began again only this time it was more spirited and merry; the little leprechaun was positively bouncing up and down at the front of the stage as he played his pipe. The small space that had been cleared as a dance floor remained empty even though many of the wizards and witches that were standing on the edges were tapping toes or nodding heads in time with the music.
"Oh come on mon cher," Planchette suddenly cried grabbing Professor Raven by the hand and whisking her on to the dance floor. "Lets shown them how it's done."
Ron was already standing on his chair so he could see over the heads of the audience that had started to clap out the beat with the drum. After Harry had safely cleared the table of tankards and glasses, he helped Hermione scramble up for a better view. Professor Raven and Professor Planchette were in the middle of the dance floor, facing each other, dancing in a style that Harry could only describe as an energetic crossed between flamenco and that Irish dancing he had once seen on TV. He could see the dust rising from the floorboards as Raven and Planchette stamped their feet and impressed all that were watching with their fancy footwork. Professor Raven was so graceful; her head held high, her black ringlets bouncing about her smiling face. And Planchette was pretty agile and elegant upon his feet, he reminded Harry of a fairytale prince charming, his sleek ponytail swung from side to side as his dark coat eddied about him like a raging chocolate sea. Every now and again he twisted Professor Raven under his arm and as the flimsy black lace of her gown lifted and swirled about her, there was a flash of her thinly striped red and black stocking. That was almost too much for Ron who promptly fell off his chair, only to quickly reappear red faced and nursing a sore elbow but grinning away happily. Everyone broke into a thunderous appreciative round of clapping, the little leprechaun whistled so enthusiastically that he nearly tripped off the stage. Professor Planchette and Professor Raven continued dancing for several more songs then Planchette returned back to the table looking a little hot but full of praise for his dancing partner.
"Morwenna dances like a wood nymph, so graceful and light on 'er feet…no?" Planchette said to Ron with a heartily nudge as he downed his second pint of mulled mead.
"I guess…I've never seen a wood nymph," Ron replied blushing scarlet.
"Perhaps the 'Alloween ball won't be so bad after all," Planchette smiled heading off to dance with Professor Raven again.
At eleven o'clock the Three Broomstick was still crowded, the Butterbeer and mulled mead was still flowing freely and everyone was in the mood to dance, so Madam Rosmerta kept her customer happy by piping music from speakers that must have been hidden around the pub.
"I know this band," Ron grinned. "They're a favourite of George's, I can't remember their name but the leader singer is a vampire so they can only play gigs at night."
"A vampire?" asked Harry with a frown over the Arabian sounding keyboard intro.
"Yeah…but he lives on synthetic blood…although I bet there are plenty of witches out there that wouldn't mind donating him a pint or two, he meant to be very handsome and his voice is pretty hypnotic."
"Really?" Hermione sighed in a dreamily voice already succumbing to the vampire's deep vocals.
Harry wasn't really listening to Ron either, he was transfixed watching Professor Raven on the dance floor; she didn't seem to notice that Planchette had sloped off to try his luck chatting up Isabelle Moon, who now sat on a stool at the bar. There was something about the way Professor Raven danced, her eyes half closed as she raised her arms to the ceiling and swayed in time with the music which caused a funny sort of feeling in Harry's stomach much like the way he felt when he thought about Cho Chang. Harry wasn't the only one watching Professor Raven dance, Ron looked in even more than a daze than usual, grinning away like a demented mountain troll and there were several older wizards with similar expressions on their faces leaning against the bar. The eerie, rasping vocals undulated over the strange melody and grinding electric guitars together with the shimmering white light and purple smoke seemed to weave a spell over the people on the dance floor so that they seemed to be dancing in slow motion. Professor Raven was easily the most graceful dancer, her long, slender arms casting strange serpent-like shadows upon the wall behind her as she sang along to the lyrics.
The next song played after the vampire singer was a song by The Haunted Cauldron. And to Harry and Hermione's surprise Ron jumped up from the table knocking over his tankard which lucky was empty and hurried onto the dance floor. He was stopped by Professor Raven who smiled grabbed his hands and the two of them stomped up and down nodding their head in time with the music.
"Bloody Hell, Harry," gapped Hermione a little shocked. "What's got into Ron?" But Harry just grinned wildly he didn't know what was funnier Ron having the nerve to dance with Professor Raven or Hermione doing a pretty good if unintentional impression of Ron. Professor Planchette had obviously given up on chatting up Isabelle Moon who was holding hands with the giant that played the fiddle and joined Professor Raven and Ron on the dance floor, much to Ron's disgust. Professor Raven tactfully held both of her admirer's hands until the end of the dance then she whispered something into Planchette's ear. He looked towards the table where Harry and Hermione sat and nodded with a smile.
"Time we were all going," Planchette beamed as he gathered up Professor Raven's cloak and gently draped it over her shoulders. "We should be back in 'Ogwarts before midnight and its quarter to twelve now."
"I think we better take a carriage Leon," Professor Raven suggested as she fastened her cloak with a silver brooch.
Harry took a seat in between Hermione and Planchette while Ron and Professor Raven sat opposite and chatted about Wizard Rock bands. Funny that Professor Raven should have a pin like that Harry thought studying it more closely as they rattled along the dark road back to the castle. It was shaped like the Slytherin House coat of arms, antique looking the silver slightly tarnished the finely crafted decoration around the edges and snake at the centre were worn with age. This pin compared to the ones the modern ones he had seen fastened to the robes of the seventh year Slytherins (that were colourful, stylised versions of Salazar's coat of arms) was a thing of exquisite beauty. Surely such a fine piece would have been something treasured passed down within a family from father to son (or daughter) or maybe even given as a love token between sweethearts but Harry was certain the Hagrid had said that Professor Raven's family had all been Ravenclaws until the Sorting Hat had chosen to place her in Gryffindor. Why would she have a Slytherin House pin and an antique one at that, someone must have given it to her, someone who must have held her in pretty high-esteem to bestow upon such a gift.
Harry yawned, he was suddenly bleary-eyed and tired, but still he could seem to shake thoughts of the pin completely from his mind. He wondered if Professor Planchette could have given it to her, but gut instinct strangely persuaded him against the notion, he had not known her long enough and Professor Raven didn't strike him as someone who would take such a gift lightly, but then again she didn't seem like the sort of person who would steal a magical amulet either. Could this pin have been what Lucius Malfoy had meant when he had suggested she pawned her questionable heirlooms?
Harry's earlier intuition was confirmed as they climbed the steps of the castle when the charming but slightly drunken Planchette tried steal a good night kiss from Professor Raven. She tactfully side-stepped Planchette's clumsy advance with flattered shock, glancing up at Slytherin's Tower before quickly ushering Harry, Ron and Hermione up the staircase and to bed. Leaving Professor Planchette a little red faced and bewildered. Harry looked up at the castle, until his head spun and a dark shadow lurking in the window at the top of Slytherin's Tower disappeared into the gloom.
Harry was still mulling the mystery of the Slytherin pin over as he pulled on his pyjamas, climbed into his four poster bed and drifted off to sleep.
He woke with a start, sweaty and breathless. It was still pitch-black in the dormitory; he could hear Ron mumbling in his sleep and the rhythmic snores of Neville. Harry lie still in the darkness, staring up at the red drapes over his bed as his heart slowly stopped pounding against his chest. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut but he still couldn't get the horrible visions of the nightmare out of his head.
He had dreamt of Professor Raven, dressed in a long velvet gown and cloak, frozen with real fear, ankle deep in a mass of writhing black serpents with glittering, angry red eyes. She seemed to be pleading with someone hidden in the shadows to make the snakes disappear. There was a cruel, cold laugh that Harry instantly recognised as the pin upon her cloak suddenly turned into a silver snake that coiled itself around her throat. As Professor Raven started to choke, her fingers desperately trying to prise the snake from her throat, the figure stepped from the shadows into the moonlight. Professor Snape's arms were folded defiantly, his cold, dark eyes glinting with evil satisfaction and a nasty smile played upon his thin, pale lips as he watched Professor Raven slowly choke to death.
Harry shuddered was this dream somehow connected to what Professor Trelawney had seen in the shard of broken mirror or had his sub-conscious just twisted his thoughts about the Slytherin pin on Professor Raven's cloak and his hatred of Snape while he had slept. Harry had to confess that he hadn't been too convinced by Hermione and Ron's idea that Snape was trying to kill Professor Raven, the potted Belladonna could have been a mistake and Professor Raven was strangely fond of the taste of Aconite although now with the truffles gone there was no way of knowing for sure if they had been flavoured with Nocturus Bane root or poisoned with Aconite. Harry was troubled, he desperately didn't want to believe that Professor Trelawney prediction would come true but after this nightmare all he could concluded was that if Snape was really trying to murder Professor Raven, then maybe he would be forced to kill Snape to save her.
Still restless Harry rose early, before anyone else in the dormitory and decided to pay the library a visit. He pulled both the year books that corresponded with Professor Raven's and his father's graduation from Hogwarts off the shelf and settled himself down at a table in the corner. Harry wondered why he hadn't thought of it before, he had a photograph album, a gift from Hagrid that contained pictures of his parents but he had never actually looked in the year book. But he decided to first take a glance through the now rather tattered booklet in which they had searched to find information on Professor Raven.
He skimmed over the pages until he had reached the section of the book dedicated to Slytherin. He found a page that had a photograph of year seven standing in front of a huge banner with alternate silver and dark green squares exactly the same as was draped over the Slytherin stand on the Quidditch pitch. The Slytherins were all wearing their dress robes, Professor Snape was clad in his customary black; arms folded and his mouth fixed in a taunt indifferent line. Harry suddenly shuddered and quickly turned over the page. He admitted that the bad dream had unnerved him but surely it was only his imagination when he thought that Snape who was staring directly at him suddenly curled his lips into a mocking smile as if he knew Harry was looking down at him. He squinted at the photograph of a Slytherin girl with a long blond plat trying to see the pin that was fastened to her robe. Drawing his wand from under his jumper Harry gave the library a quick glance, good, he was still alone.
"Enlargeus," he whispered as he tapped the section of the photograph he wanted a better look at with the end of his wand. There was a tiny puff of white smoke and the silver pin had grown to almost the size of the page. Harry sighed as it was now clear from the enlarge pin that this one was not that dissimilar from the ones worn now. Harry reversed the spell placed the book to one side and grabbed the other year book.
The first page that he came to as he flicked it open was a photograph of the whole school. He gazed with great fascination first picking out Professor Dumbledore smiling away proudly, his auburn hair just starting to streak with white. Then his mother, Lily with her long flame red hair and dark green eyes which so many people had told Harry he had inherited. Next to her stood his father, James with whom he shared the same unruly black hair and poor eyesight. They were smiling brightly as were all of the Gryffindor students along with those of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, not so the Slytherins. Most of them were solemn-faced apart from the slightly pimped faced, and much plumper Planchette who wore his usual merry grin and next to him stood Snape who smiled weakly.
But it was the tall, deathly pale and painfully thin man dressed in black that stood behind Snape that suddenly interested Harry. His goatee beard was flecked with grey and his face looked almost skeletal with sunken cheeks and dull eyes circled with dark shadows. Harry found it hard to believe that this was the same Professor Bane whose portrait he had encountered hanging at the top of the stair on the way to the Study of Ancient Artefacts classroom. Harry had to admit that the man in the portrait had possessed a commanding, sinister air about him but his complexion, although pale, glowed with health and his intense grey eyes had the sparkle of life. Harry could only conclude that the portrait had been painted just before Professor Bane had died, Harry shuddered from the photography, Bane looked as if he was dying.
Harry forced himself to study Professor Bane more closely, he wasn't smiling but that was understandable, he didn't look as if he had much to smile about. He had his hand upon Snape's shoulder in an almost fatherly manner, Harry remembered Planchette mentioning that Snape had become more that the Potions Master's pet student.
"Enlargeus," Harry used the spell again to take a closer looked at both Snape and Professor Bane. Glancing down at the badge that was pinned to Snape's robe Harry could see that it was more similar in design to the one Professor Raven had pinned to her cloak but not the one. Then Harry saw something silver ornamenting Professor Bane's throat, this was it, Bane's pin was an exact match. Harry wondered as he closed up the book, could it be Professor Bane's pin that Professor Raven now had in her possession and if that was indeed the case, how had she come by it?
What's that?" asked Harry as Errol, the Weasley family owl landed upon the table sending a flurry of malting brown feathers into the air and dropped a letter onto Ron's lap. Harry was now sitting with Ron and Hermione in the great hall eating breakfast having told them about the Slytherin pin.
"That bird's a bloody menace!" Ron grumbled as he pulled Errol, who had collapsed into of his bowl of porridge and rescued the letter the owl had just dropped from a similar soggy fate.
"It's from Charlie," Ron replied as he gingerly opened the pale yellow envelope and showed Harry the letter in his brother's flowing handwriting:
Hello Ron,
Thank you, so much for your letter it was great to hear from you. Third year at Hogwarts, eh? doesn't time fly! I hope that you are working hard, keeping out of trouble and making Snape's life a misery! Please give everyone my love and tell Hagrid that Norbert is doing fine (see enclosed clipping) although he has become far too tame to release back into the wild. But Hagrid's not to worry as I have adopted Norbert; he makes an excellent guard dragon.
Of course I remember Morwenna Raven! Bloody gorgeous as I remember and a demon on the Quidditch pitch! Wow...so she's teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts... you lucky thing! Funny, as I thought she always intended to work for the Ministry of Magic, in the Potions Development and Research Department, she was a wiz at brewing those potions, wouldn't have passed my finials without a lot of help from her (but don't tell mum!). I always regretted not trying to contact Morwenna after I left Hogwarts, but she left so suddenly, the letter I sent to her uncle's address got returned! Oh well, give Morwenna my fondest regards when you next have class with her.
Best Wishes,
Charlie
"There's also a clipping from the Daily Prophet," continued Ron as he unfolded the sheet of newspaper. "Dealing with Dragons, it's an interview with Charlie about his research in Romania…Look there's Norbert. Blimely he's the size of a bus now, we'll have to show this to Hagrid."
"Can I see that?" asked Hermione.
"Sure," said Ron as he passed the newspaper cutting across the unconscious Errol. Hermione took it from Ron and ignoring the picture of Ron's brother standing next to a rather large, Norwegian Ridgeback and turned the clipping over and started to read the advert printed on the back of the article.
"Jenson and Crowley dealers in rare and antiquated magical objet d' art are proudly to announce a grand auction…"
"Yeah so what?" snapped Ron trying to snatch the clipping back out of Hermione's hand. "If you don't want to read Charlie's interview then I do."
"Hang on, Ron," Hermione replied firmly, holding the article out f his reach. "The auction will be held at their main store, in Diagon Alley on the 1st of November and will feature a fine selection of Dark Arts items including the Agate stone, several rare West African fetish dolls and the much sought after original manuscript of the Grimorium Neromanum which is being auctioned for an anonymous seller."
"What's that?" asked Harry
"I don't know exactly," she shrugged, "The advert doesn't say. But a Grimoire is a magical text and necro…doesn't that mean death?"
"Oh something nice and light-hearted then," grumbled Ron as he finally wrestled the article from Hermione.
"But don't you see, that must be the auction that Lucius Malfoy was considering selling his books at before he decided to buy himself back into The board of school governors' favour," Harry said thoughtfully. "I wonder if it is the Grimorium Neromanum that Professor Raven wants so desperately."
"Maybe she's finally had enough and wants to hex Snape with something from it?" Ron suggested, looking up from the article. "I mean there are bound to be loads of spells in there that will cause him a long, painful death, perhaps that crazy, old bat Trelawney's right and Professor Raven is going to give Harry the perfect spell to finish off Snape," he added with a hopefully chuckle.
"Ron!" Hermione scolded. "That wasn't funny," she glance at Harry who was still anxious about what Professor Trelawney had seen in her shattered mirror. "Professor Raven isn't going to kill Snape and either is Harry; actually I think she feels a little sorry for him."
"I don't know why, when he's totally vile to her," Ron retorted with a snort.
"But that doesn't answer the question, if it is the Grimorium Neromanum she wants, how far would she go to get her hands upon it, and why?" Harry said darkly.
"Come on let's go and show Hagrid this clipping of Norbert," said Ron, trying to change the subject.
They found Hagrid not in his hut, but down in the pumpkin patch scratching his head and looking mournfully at the hutch. The large wooden building which now resembled an odd children's Wendy House was still a mismatch of wooden planking and chicken wire, but now it had a sloping roof, two windows and something that looked like a mini draw bridge on chains attached to the arched opening that served as a door. Millie chirped a welcome as she came bounding excitedly across the pumpkin patch to greet them, the tiny bell on her red velvet collar tinkling on the breeze. She skidded to a halt at Harry's feet and making that strange throttled purring sound rubbed herself up against his legs, Harry smiled and scooped her up into his arms. The other Thorny Devils were scattered about Hagrid's feet basking in the still warm sunshine or stalking the last of the butterflies as they fluttered through the long glass, it was amazing Hagrid had been so right to compare these strange reptile creatures to cats.
"You alright there Hagrid?" asked Ron as they joined him in front of the hutch.
"Oh hello Ron, Harry, Hermione," smiled Hagrid still looking a little perplexed. "I was just wondering what else I could do to make the Thorny Devils hutch more homely, I'm going to paint the roof, window frames and draw bridge scarlet…"
"You could always give it some window boxes with flowers," Ron teased.
"Yer know, I think yer right," said Hagrid beaming happily, not realising that Ron had only suggested window boxes as a joke. "Would yer like to help me fix some up then?"
"Er…yeah…okay," replied Ron not really having the heart to refuse.
It wasn't until Ron had finished helping Hagrid make up some narrow, rectangular boxes from the last of the wood and fixed them to the window frames while Harry and Hermione played with the Thorny Devils that he was able at last to show Hagrid the newspaper clipping.
"Just look how much he's grown," Hagrid smiled proudly as they all sat on grass at the steps of the hut, much to Harry relief as there was a strange smell of cooking wafting from within. The Thorny Devils had reluctantly been returned to their hutch with a large dish of double cream and cooked minced meat to keep them happy, Harry wonder if it was another batch of this that Hagrid currently had simmering on his stove, everyone was now sipping at tall glasses of chilled pumpkin juice.
"I do miss Norbert," Hagrid sniffed as he went to hand the clipping back to Ron.
"No, you keep it," Ron smiled hoping the picture of the dragon would cheer Hagrid's spirits. "I'm sure mum will have already bought up as many copies of the Daily Prophet she can get her hands on."
"Why don't you send an owl to Charlie?" suggest Hermione draining her glass. "I'm sure that he wouldn't mind taking some more photographs of Norbert for you, perhaps now he's keeping him as a guard dragon you could go and visit him sometime."
"Yep, I might just do that," Hagrid replied suddenly looking a lot brighter.
They sat in silence for a while just enjoying the sunshine before hunger would force them back to the castle for lunch and the slightly gloomy prospect of sending the afternoon on various essays. Hermione who as always was already up to date on her homework intended to make a start on her costume for the Halloween ball but although she refused to allow Harry or Ron to copy her essays had promised to offered to help them with the trickier questions.
"Hagrid?" Harry asked suddenly breaking the silence. "I was looking through the school year book when my father graduated…"
"Oh?" replied Hagrid who was now giving Fang's coat a brush.
"And I was wondering what happened to Professor Bane, the Potions Master? Didn't he leave Hogwarts the same year?"
"To tell yer the truth Harry," Hagrid said scratching his shaggy beard "I don't know much about Professor Bane, only that he didn't seem to like anyone much, then again not many people liked him/"
"He liked Snape," Ron yawned as he stretched out on the grass, staring up dreamily at the fluffy white clouds that were lazily drifting across the blue skies.
"Yes, Professor Planchette said Bane had his favourites but Snape was his pet," nodded Harry.
"Well you're probably better off asking Professor Snape or Professor Planchette…"
"'Agrid, 'Agrid" as if on queue Professor Planchette came strolling around the lawn towards them, his dark chocolate coat flapping about him.
"'Ello everyone!" Planchette greeted them all with a bright smile.
"Hello Professor," they chorused as Planchette hovered next to Hagrid and gave Fang a pat on the head.
"I was wondering 'Agrid if you still 'ad some of zat delicious stew left?"
"Sure Professor Planchette, I've got some on the stove now, I just go and get you a nice big bowl," Hagrid smiled proudly as if Professor Planchette's desire for his cooking put some sort of seal of approval on it.
"Thank you 'Agrid, I am famished, all zat dancing last night really 'elped worked up an appetite."
"Blimey when isn't he famished, I swear he had four rounds of toast and a bowl of porridge at breakfast," whispered Ron. "He must haven cast-iron stomach to digest Hagrid's stew."
Hagrid reappeared in the hut doorway carrying a huge wooden bowl of steaming stew, the strange smell now stronger in their nostrils as spirals of stream drifted from the breeze.
"Harry was just asking me what I knew about your old Potions master, Professor Bane, and I told him he was better off asking you," Hagrid said standing on the steps and holding the bowl just under Planchette's nose.
"Do I 'ave too?" Planchette complained weakly, eyeing up the stew.
"I've thought you might like one of my bread rolls to go with it," Hagrid tempted, giving Harry a sly wink.
"Oh very well," Planchette finally agreed and brandishing the stew as if it was the Quidditch cup settled down on the grass next to Harry with the bowl balanced on his lap.
"So what do you want to know zen?" Planchette asked after his first mouthful of stew.
"Well," Harry began gingerly. "I was looking at your graduation photograph…"
"Don't I look 'orrible, all zat puppy fat!" snorted Planchette, tearing a chunk from the bread roll and dripping it into the bowl. "And ze day of tze photograph I break out with pimples."
"You looked much better then Professor Bane…"
"Ahh poor Professor Bane, 'e was dying you know"
"Dying? Dying of what?" asked Ron sitting up suddenly interested.
"I am not entirely certain, some kind of wasting disease, although zere was a rumour zat it was ze result of a dark spell zat 'ad gone 'orribly wrong…"
"So Professor Bane practiced the dark arts then?" asked Hermione with a concerned frown.
"No…just a rumour, I mean how could 'e? Surely Professor Dumbledore would 'ave known."
"So what happened to him?" prompted Hermione.
"It was awful, we watched 'im wasting away before our very eyes and no one, not even Professor Dumbledore could do anything for 'im. Naturally Professor Bane didn't want to die and became more and more obsessed with finding a cure, 'e even zreaten our class once with possessing one of our bodies as a means of cheating death, scared ze living daylights out of us, especially Snape, 'e 'ad nightmares for weeks after, convinced if Bane did discover a way of doing it zen 'e would choose 'im as 'e was 'is favourite"
"Do you think Professor Bane ever found away of possessing someone?" asked Ron anxiously.
"I don't know, I zink Snape told me zat Professor Bane left 'im a letter in which 'e explained zat 'e 'ad gone to Transylvania in search of zis doctor zat was studying vampires, 'oping 'e could 'elp 'im. Even zough Snape was a little afraid of Bane, we all were I zink 'e was pretty upset zat Bane 'adn't said goodbye, Professor Bane 'ad been more like a father to 'im zan 'is own flesh and blood."
A strange thought suddenly struck Harry, if Professor Bane and Snape had been that close, like father and son, then it wasn't a huge leap of the imagination to suppose that Professor Bane had passed on his Slytherin pin to Snape. But then how had Professor Raven come by it? Could Snape have given it to her but why?
TBC
R&R!
A big thankyou to Tancred Torrsen and ShadowMagik for the reviews, and also to you guys who have added me to your favs...I am so glad that people are enjoying the fic!