Potions: What would a Girl Do without It?
By Slave4Severus
Disclaimer: I still do not own any of J.K.R. characters. Even though I wish I did.
He must have been a rabid banshee in a past life to deserve this. Yes, that must be the answer. Not being a Death Eater for the past twenty years, but a rabid banshee who must have tortured en masse to deserve the never ending hangover, and another mind-numbing and ungodly-early morning meeting with Albus. Severus clenched his teeth in vexation as he watched the 'chipper' Headmaster offer his usual round of muggle sweets to the occupants of the Staff chamber.
"Could we perhaps begin this meeting, Headmaster?"
Dumbledore suppressed the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth as he looked at Severus over his glasses.
"Rough night, Severus?"
The Potions Master narrowed his eyes. As if the old codger did not know he had been drinking his finest single-malt scotch all night, and not even his strongest batch of hangover potion could rid him of the bleary eyes and cotton mouth.
He could feel the poignant stares and suppressed smirks from most of his colleagues, but only voiced an inaudible 'humph' retreating behind his curtain of greasy, black tresses.
A few snickers and soft whispers later the staff came to order as the last of them, Professor, and Severus used this term lightly, Trelawny appeared and took her seat, straight-backed and sour faced. It was common knowledge that the praying mantis of the North Tower hated mingling with her peers that did not possess the inner eye, though hers seemed in a perpetual state of obscurity. After the jingling of her many hoops and bangles subsided Albus pushed back his heavy wing-backed armchair and rose leaning his hands firmly on the long, mahogany staff table before him. Everyone knew why this meeting had been called, of course, and seemed unnaturally awake and anxious for the Headmaster to explain the appearance of the girl.
Albus scanned the members of his staff with watchful eyes, lingering on his eccentric Potions Master. He knew Severus would be the hardest to convince of his actions in Alanna's interest and convincing him of her innocence or benign presence would prove even more difficult. He would have to accept his wishes of course, but he knew Severus would not acclimate silently; such are the woes of a Headmaster.
"I know that all of you are aware of what has transpired within these walls during the past twenty-four hours. In order to quell any rumors that have been circulating I would like to give a short account of yesterday's happenings."
After reviewing the day's highlights Albus continued.
"I would like to thank Professors McGonagall and Snape for their fast thinking in securing the school and seeing to the students' safety during my absence. Also, a very heartfelt thank you goes to our overtired medi-witch, who has spent many hours saving the life of the young woman in question."
Severus pierced the old man with a cold stare, knowing exactly what he was trying to do; he was stalling.
"Before me I have enough evidence to assume that this child is without any means of protection, and have therefore granted her asylum within our walls. She will attend Hogwarts as a st—"
"Merlin's beard, Albus! Will you finally grace us with the name of the girl!" Severus patience seemed to have run out as he leaned toward the head of the table, eyes narrowed and a cold sneer gracing his thinned lips.
Albus raised his brow and stared over his glasses at Professor Snape, he could prolong the peace no longer.
"It seems that we are hosts to Farrell and Melanie Flint's daughter."
The soft gasps and murmurs rippled through the staff, the ones who did not know who they were discussing were quickly made aware of the girl's parentage. It was, however, the reaction of the Potions Professor that Albus was interested in the most. His gaze never wavered from the dark man, as he made the announcement and watched, while Severus gracefully rose from his chair, staring unblinkingly at the older wizard.
"That is not possible!" Severus hissed through clenched teeth. "I know for a fact that Farrell has never sired an offspring."
"Is that so, Severus? And how did you come to this conclusion?" Albus could not help but bait the man, it just seemed too easy.
Severus straightened and fixed the Headmaster with a glare. "I have been in contact with Mr. Flint's brother Faustus over the past years, mostly concerning his son Marcus, while he still attended Hogwarts. He had always let the small slip of information shine through that Marcus was the heir of the Flint title and estates. Never, has there been any talk of another child in the family. Do you not think it odd, Albus, that there is a supposed daughter of the eldest son residing in our own Hospital wing?"
The real reason of course was that Severus had been to Farrell's estate many times and had never glimpsed or heard a child within its walls. An avid Death Eater such as Flint would have been proud to have borne a pureblooded witch and would have offered her to the Dark Lord at the young age of fourteen, as was customary. The girl in the Hospital wing, however, was definitely older than that.
Farrell Flint had a daughter. The thought was just unimaginable!
"Your concern has been noted, Severus, but I have documents here that confirm who she is and what she has inherited upon her parents death."
"You are going to let a few pieces of parchment confound your better judgment as to the potential threat the girl poses?"
He knew he had crossed that fine line between annoyance and anger when Albus straightened his spine and looked down upon Severus with his flashing blue eyes, the wandless magic radiating from him in rolling waves.
"Are you questioning me, Professor? Do you actually think that I, while you have conveniently been locked in your dungeons for the past seven hours, have not verified the claim that has been made through these documents? The parents are dead! The proof has been established and I will not stand by here and listen to one of my own trying to turn away an innocent!"
"I do not wish to disrespect, Headmaster, but I am only asking for extreme caution in her case. If she truly is who she claims to be then I can assure you that she could have ulterior motives in being here."
At his statement Dumbledore dismissed him from his gaze and addressed the staff as a whole, while Severus seated himself, seething beneath his cool exterior.
"Her name is Alanna Jade Flint, born April 22, 1979. She is the only child of the recently deceased Farrell and Melanie Flint, who both attended Hogwarts as Slytherins during their formative years in the early seventies. Up to this point she has been privately instructed by none other than the head of Magical Studies at Oxford, Professor Carl Correlius, whom I have contacted by emergency owl for academic references in each subject she will take during her stay at Hogwarts. I am pleased to announce that she is proficient in all subjects, but exceeds in Transfiguration, Charms, Care of Magical Creatures, and Potions."
"Excuse me Headmaster, THE Professor Correlius? The one who received his Merlin First Class for his services in the German Wizard Rebellion in 1933?" Professor Vector's small voice could be heard over the second bout of anxious whispers between the staff. Professor Snape's scowl deepened at the approval of his peers who did not seem to heed his warnings at all.
"Yes, Viveka. The one and only. He has asked me to inform all of you to owl him should any difficulties arise with his longtime pupil. He states that she is unusually bright and could pass her N.E.W.T.'s with flying colours if she wished to take them in the near future."
A soft groan could be heard from across the room at that declaration. Professor McGonagall looked at the vexed Potions Professor with an arched brow before she heard the nearly inaudible mumblings.
"Merlin help us! Not another Miss Granger."
"I will trust that all of you will make Miss Flint feel welcomed once she has been released from Madam Pomfrey's care. Until then, please try to quell as many rumors about her as possible. Some very interesting conclusions have already reached my ears that I have found most disturbing." A small smile flitted over his features.
"The meeting is hereby adjourned. Would Professors McGonagall and Snape please stay behind; to everyone else I wish a pleasant Wednesday morning."
Amongst excited chatter, scuffing of chairs, and shuffling of feet the staff left to attend to their morning meals in the Great Hall. Both Severus and Minerva moved closer to the Headmaster and sat in the chairs to his left and right, silently waiting for the older man to proceed.
"There are other matters that need to be discussed at this point. After having spent the past hours pondering Alanna's future I have decided that she will reside in Gryffindor house for the remainder of the school year."
"Should she not be sorted properly, as all the other students, Albus?" Professor McGonagall pursed her stern lips.
"There is no doubt in my mind that the child would be sorted into Slytherin if she donned the hat, however, it would not be wise to place her amongst a potential threat brought on by Death Eater advocates. By placing her in Gryffindor she will not only be protected by her house, but also by any potential friends she should acquire; and something tells me that Miss Flint will get along splendidly with Miss Granger."
Severus quirked a black brow. "Honestly, Minerva. I thought you would be pleased. Another cub for your little pride." His voice oozed sarcasm as he impaled his fellow professor with a black stare.
"Now, Severus, do not be jealous," Albus admonished with a light chuckle.
"Absurd!" Severus spat, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
Minerva pointedly ignored him.
"The seventh-year dormitories are, unfortunately, fully occupied, but I will ask Miss Granger if she would share her Head Girl chambers with Miss Flint."
Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully, rubbing his long beard between the fingers of his wand hand.
"I am afraid that we will need more information on Miss Flint's appearance here. I have read the letter with which she arrived and it seemed that Mr. Flint knew who his assailants were. It would explain why he was so well prepared in leaving his titles, lands, and other worldly goods to his daughter. As a matter of fact, you, Severus, were named in the letter as being one of the men in question that may have assaulted his family."
Dumbledore lightly folded his hands before him, pressing both of his index fingers against his lips in a pondering gesture and looked over his glasses at Severus. The dark man seemed unmoved, however, and he softly continued.
"Aside from the fact that you spent that particular night brewing a potion, that conclusion of course is the farthest from the truth, meaning that we should explore the possibility of Lucius Malfoy being the main instigator. Given the information you have supplied me with from your meeting with Voldemort, he would be the most likely culprit."
Albus moved his attention to the pieces of parchment splayed before him, glancing over them and folding them neatly into a small pile.
"I think a visit is in order, Severus, to obtain any type of information pertaining to this delicate situation. I would like you to leave for Malfoy manor within the hour if at all possible, my boy."
"Of course, Headmaster, but if I may be prudent…" he took an inaudible, steadying breath, "who will be substituting my classes during my absence?" He dreaded the answer by the look of utter delight that spread across Albus' face.
"Why, I will be my boy! I already have this potion in mind for the third year classes that involves the combination between a love and truth formula…"
"Albus, you will desist on teaching my students these ridicules concoctions that seem to spawn from the recesses of your mind. It takes weeks to get them back to where they should be, hence the fact I NEVER take a leave during the school year." Severus tried to remain calm, cold, and collected. It seemed that the old man always knew how to bring the blood in his veins to an instant boil.
"I have to agree with Severus on that." Minerva had been quietly watching how rigid Severus was sitting in his chair, while Albus delivered his little speech. It was the truth of course that the Headmaster always knew what to teach the students during a Professor's absence that would spawn a plethora of questions and havoc upon their return to the classroom. She hated to agree with the head of her rival house, but it was true.
"Remember the time I had been called to the bedside of my ailing sister in Bath? Of course you do, I can tell by that flash of mirth in your eyes," she stated annoyed.
"It took four weeks to convince some of my brighter students that they could actually not transfigure those damnable chocolate frog Wizarding cards into life-like replicas of the face upon them. ESPECIALLY after you supposedly showed them how it was done." Minerva let out an unladylike scoff. "Hence the reason why I, as well, hate leaving my classes to your tutelage."
Both professors looked at each other in silent agreement.
"Oh, come now, Minerva. There has never been anything wrong with giving you a little bit of a challenge, right?" Dumbledore cleared his throat and busily picked up his papers and stood, not even attempting to suppress the broad smile that crinkled every laugh line in his face.
"I will not even lower myself to answer that question, Albus," she said huffily and rose from her seat as well. "If there is nothing else to discuss I will be joining the staff at breakfast."
Albus bowed slightly as Minerva purposefully left the staff room, her heeled boots echoing angrily on the stone floor; the soft thud of the door signaled her departure.
With a small wave of his hand and a softly muttered word Albus placed a silencing charm and faced Severus once again.
"In the letter that Miss Flint arrived with her father has talked about an anonymous contact in the Ministry, whom he had been feeding information to about Death Eater activities. I do not have to tell you my concerns about such a contact and the danger it may pose to our new student. I have already contacted reliable sources in the Ministry who will give us information, should there be any of value. I want to ask you to keep an eye out amongst Voldemort's ranks, just in case…" He trailed off and looked at the younger man thoughtfully, who in return nodded curtly at his superior.
"I will depart within the hour, Headmaster," Severus inclined his head slightly and began walking toward the door, before he was called back once more.
"Oh, and Severus, my dear, dear boy; just one more question?" The Potions Master stopped his long legged walk and turned his face to the side, eyeing Albus over his shoulder.
"Why did you feel the need to drown yourself in several bottles of expensive spirits?"
He could hear the laughter in that damnable voice of his. Cursing himself and nosy headmasters he forcibly cleared his mind and practically flew out of the room, closing the door firmly on Albus Dumbledore's laughter.
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As promised, Severus left the castle thirty minutes later, a lot more sober and clad in one of his better black robes, which sported a hint of silver lining as they billowed in his wake. The October weather had been unpredictable as usual, as gusts of heavy, cold wind tore around his body, as if attempting to unsettle his unyielding stride to the main gates. Leaves and other tiny bits swirled around his dark imposing form, never settling on his person as they cascaded downward in their final dance of autumn. He could smell the crisp promise of the first snow in the air. His eyes glanced upwards into the darkening sky, a far away rumble of thunder rolled over the mountains in the distance. Without breaking his stride he apparated to the central house of Lucius Malfoy.
Just beyond the trees Severus could make out the huge white structure. White, clean, perfect . . . and cold; a remarkable resemblance to the lowlife that owned the place, he mused. Perfection, however, is never quite what it seems, for in the bowels of the manor Lucius spared no expense to install various rooms d'agonie, or torture chambers. There had been numerous nights Severus wished he had not been on the exclusive guest list, participating in staining the floors of the dungeon dark red.
He quickly approached the main gates of the grounds, formally introducing himself by merely stepping through the ancient wards protecting the manor. His eyes roamed over the windows of the east and west wings for any sign of activity, as he took the marble stairs two at a time toward the black front door, which stood heavily adorned with a variety of silver snakes, including a cluster of intertwined snakes that created the door handle with their bodies, and an ornate door knocker comprised of two silver snakes biting into a smoothly rounded piece of crystal; their fangs holding the heavy glass in place. As he raised his hand towards the orb, the door slowly swung open before him. After a moments pause, Severus strode into the front parlor.
"Inform your master that I have come to call on him," Severus' voice was barely above a whisper as his restless eyes scanned his surroundings before settling on the small house elf cowering behind the door.
"Yes, Master Snape, sir." The elf vanished with a soft pop, but not before Severus made note of its appalling condition. A small smirk came across his features. Lucius had to be furious this time based on the appearance of his help. The elf sported not just one black eye, but two, along with various bandages around his arms and legs; this could only mean that Lucius did not look much better.
Within a few short minutes the elf popped back into the parlor, holding its bleeding nose with one of its bandaged fingers.
"The Master will be with you shortly, Master Snape. He would like for you to wait in his private study. If you would follow me please," the beleaguered creature squeaked as it turned around, and as quickly as its limping legs could carry it, scrambled up the stairs to the second floor.
Severus followed at a short distance, taking in the darkened corridors and closed off rooms he passed in his wake. He thought it strange, but kept any type of comment to himself as he was shown into the spacious, and also darkened, study, which had been tastefully redecorated since the last time he had seen it. The four windows were drawn with heavy velvet curtains of forest green while the couch and armchairs before the fireplace were of a tasteful crème colour framed in dark cherry, and placed on a rather expensive looking Persian rug that was clearly meant to be the focal point of the décor. The wall bookcases, bar, and desk were just as he remembered.
"The Master will be with you shortly, sir. Would Master Snape like Mushu to bring some tea?"
"That will not be necessary," he snapped, as he lifted aside one of the heavy curtains to look at the perfectly manicured garden below.
"Very well, sir." With another pop of elf magic, he was left alone.
After a few minutes of looking out the window, Severus turned to the room and silently walked over to the bar, where Lucius always kept stock of his finest. He picked up a bottle of Brandy, looked at the label and discarded it just as quickly before his gaze caught a deliberately hidden bottle of Russian Topaz vodka. His fingers ghosted over the label with reverence as he broke the seal, inhaling its fumes, gingerly filling a scotch glass over halfway; completing his ritual by dropping in three ice cubes from charmed silver bowl.
He may as well enjoy what Lucius had to offer while he waited.
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"Professor Dumbledore, sir. Could I have a moment of your time?"
Albus turned and looked down on Harry Potter with a soft smile.
"Of course, Harry. Do we need to speak privately or is it something we can discuss en route to your next lesson?"
Harry shifted his weight from one foot to the next while a small crowd of Ravenclaw second-years passed them through the double doors of the Great Hall.
"I believe a more private setting would be adequate." Harry smiled nervously and followed the Headmaster to an adjacent antechamber, which he promptly warded and silenced before turning his attention back to the young Gryffindor.
"What is it you needed, Harry?"
"Well, sir. I was wondering if Madam Pomfrey has told you anything about my stay at the infirmary the other day."
"I knew you were spending the night Harry, but other than that she has not mentioned anything to me. She has been very busy with our new arrival, you know."
"Of course, sir. I was only wondering because she mentioned that she would inform you about what had happened to me while I helped her with the girl in the infirmary," he looked up into the questioning eyes of the headmaster and continued.
"I woke up from my potion-induced slumber, got dressed, and went to find Madam Pomfrey for my exit exam that morning. I felt a bit groggy from the potion and had a pretty bad headache to boot, but felt fine otherwise. When I found her she was tending to the badly injured girl, who suddenly began convulsing on her cot. I was asked to help and I did, holding her body down while the nurse fetched a potion vial. I saw her scar, sir. It looks just like mine, only smaller, right here on her neck." His fingers lightly touched the side of his neck in emphasis.
Dumbledore looked at him thoughtfully before he spoke.
"Did you see anything when you touched her, Harry? Anything at all?"
"Only fleeting images, sir. I saw Lucius Malfoy leaning over me, flying at high speed through a forest, hexing Death Eaters, and being caught in a fog-like substance. I also felt pain, sir, as if everything the girl felt had transferred to me by merely touching her. I had to be forcefully removed from her person by Madam Pomfrey."
Harry took a deep breath before he continued.
"What I really want ask you, professor, is if a scar like mine can be produced by any wizard who uses the killing curse, and if so, if it has the same results as mine did."
"To answer your first question Harry, yes, a scar like yours may be created by any wizard or witch who uses the killing curse. However, there are circumstances that have to be in place for such a scar to be created. For instance, in your case there had to be an enormous amount of power behind it fueled with the self-sacrifice of your mother, thus your scar is more visible than the one you have seen on the young lady in the infirmary. Other factors include curse-combinations, blood-based killing curses, and non-direct hits of the curse. We will have to wait for her to wake before we can pinpoint the exact reason for her scar. To answer the second part of your question, no, not all survived killing curses have the same reactions. As mentioned before, power and self-sacrifice destroyed Voldemort, but other effects range from wand-shattering or loss of magic to certain types of deformities or loss of mental cognitive powers."
"Do you believe that Voldemort hit her with the curse?"
"Do you not believe that you would have felt it if he did, Harry?"
Harry contemplated that statement for a moment and agreed. He did not receive any images from Voldemort other than furious, second hand memories he had extracted from a Death Eater.
Albus removed his Wizard watch from his robes and checked the time.
"I am afraid I will have to leave you now Harry. If you are suffering any ill-effects from helping Madam Pomfrey with her patient I advise you to go and see her. One can never be too cautious," he smiled down on him and unwarded the doors with a wave of his hand.
"I am fine, and thank you for taking the time to talk to me, Professor."
"Any time, my child, any time," Albus swept out of the room and quickly walked toward the stairs leading down to the dungeons.
Harry watched him descend the stairs thoughtfully. Even though he felt much better today he was contemplating on visiting the infirmary later to find out if the girl had woken up yet. Maybe he could ask her a few of his own questions. Ron and Hermione could use his invisibility cloak if they insisted on accompanying him.
With this in mind he left the antechamber and made his way to double Transfiguration on the fourth floor.
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Severus leisurely sipped on his drink as he watched the door of the study from his vantage point on the couch. He had been waiting fifteen minutes already and was becoming more agitated by the second. With a quick flick of the wrist he tossed the rest of his drink and stood, walking toward the mantle of the fireplace staring into the fire's golden-red glow.
"Severus, what brings you to my humble home at this time of day?"
Severus looked up into to the huge mirror mounted above the fireplace and stared into the not-so-fresh looking face of the senior Malfoy. Lucius was dressed informally in grey slacks, white half-unbuttoned shirt, and dark burgundy silk dressing gown belted loosely around his slender hips. His usually sleek hair had been haphazardly tied with a black silk ribbon, a few blond tendrils hanging matted and limp around the side of his face. He had a deathly pale hue to his skin and lips, emphasized by the dark circles under his slightly puffy eyes. His usual smirk had been demoted to an odd-looking half-smile, giving Severus the suspicion that he had applied a well placed glamour on his face to hide any bruising.
Severus lips twisted into a cold little smile, while he inspected Lucius from head to toe with a sweep of his eyes in the mirror.
"Lucius, old friend, you are looking rather…well," Severus replied smoothly and turned around to face him.
"I can not complain, old friend," he sauntered slowly into the room, lowering himself into a comfortable looking armchair.
Severus could tell he was trying to suppress the sigh of relief one felt when suffering deep pain and had forced him or herself into sitting down.
"It has been far too long, Lucius, since I have paid you a visit."
"This is why you come by unannounced on a Wednesday morning? Tell me, Severus, who is teaching my heir in your absence?"
Severus arched a black brow and walked back to the bar, refilling his glass. "Your son is well taken care of in my absence."
"Let me rephrase, will you enlighten me to why you are here imbibing from my best bottle of vodka?"
"I was wondering how you were feeling, Lucius." Severus filled a second glass with fire whiskey and handed it to him with an unreadable expression.
"You have woken me at the ungodly hour of seven to ask me about welfare," a lazy smile played around his pale lips, "why, Severus, I am touched! I did not know you were vying for the duties of a common house-elf."
Amused by his own little jibe, he chuckled charismatically, before wincing in obvious pain.
Severus pulled out a small, brown leather pouch from the recesses of his robes. "I suppose you will not need these then, will you?"
Silver-grey eyes instantly focused on the Potion Master's hands with a flicker of recognition.
"So, you have not been feeling a little off-colour lately?" Severus slowly began to untie the leather thongs from the pouch. "I must have been mistaken you with somebody else then," he opened the pouch to reveal four different coloured vials nestled in the soft suede lining. "Even though I could have sworn that you belonged to that high-pitched squeal torn from your chest by our Lord."
Lucius instantly met his eyes in a cold stare filled with fury. He was not aware that there had been a witness to his utterly humiliating display before the Dark Lord two nights ago. He had suffered many bouts of Crucio amongst other physical assaults that he wanted to forget as soon as possible. Unfortunately, he had been commanded not to heal himself and a trip to St. Mungo's was most definitely out of the question. He hated being in debt to someone he loathed.
Severus had begun to twirl a plum coloured, opiate-based pain relieving potion between his long, slender fingers.
"Tell me, Lucius, what did you do the other night to deserve such…atrocious chastisement?" He smirked coldly.
"Where were you that you could not make it to find out for yourself?" He countered with obvious restraint.
"Unlike some of us, I actually do something with my time. You may have heard of it Lucius, it is called working; and no, I am not referring to the barely legal aged Mudbloods you seem to have a taste for," he added sarcastically.
"Your attempt at wit is lacking this morning, old friend," he retorted icily, "but I will be a good sport and participate in this little game you insist on playing."
Lucius shifted his weight slightly as he took a small sip from his crystal glass and eyed the other man critically.
"He was displeased with me because I let something of value slip out of my grasp," he took another sip and did not continue further.
Before Severus could further enquire, they were interrupted by a soft knock at the study door.
"What!" Lucius hissed viciously, while the figure of a house elf apparated beside his chair, offering an ornate silver plate on which a letter had been placed. Severus could make out the familiar flourished writing of Draco's and regarded the other with masked interest.
"Out of my sight!" Lucius spat, before focusing his attention on the letter resting in his hands. "You will excuse me if I do not wait to read this missive," he said loftily and proceeded to gracefully sever the wax seal from the parchment, unrolling it, and finally scanning its contents.
Severus could tell that the older Malfoy was not pleased with the news his son had sent him by the subtle way his nostrils flared and the unblinking stare that came over the other man's face. He quietly folded the parchment and looked up at Severus pleasantly, although his face was still etched with traces of fury.
"I hear a little pigeon flew into a window?"
"You could say that, yes."
"Without breaking anything?"
"Nothing that could not be fixed," Severus placed his glass on the mantle. "I should thank you, Lucius."
"Why is that?" he asked tersely.
"Due to your inadequacies in seizing one little girl, I will have the opportunity to once again reside in the Dark Lord's good graces," he replied silkily.
Lucius had begun to shake with suppressed rage at his words.
Severus moved closer to where the other man was sitting, before softly continuing. "Imagine the rewards he will give me for placing her…beneath my tutelage."
Lucius remained silent, but Severus knew that as soon as he had the means he would retaliate with some form of malice. With an evil smirk he handed him the purple vial and replaced the remaining ones into the folds of his cloak.
"I would advise you to take this on an empty stomach."
With a quick movement of his hand Lucius grabbed the vial from Severus' thumb and forefinger, looking grimly at the swirling liquid within.
"See you at the next meeting, Brother," and with that Severus left the other to his anger.
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"Why do you have to be so short, 'Mione?"
"Excuse me for not being over two meters tall!"
Harry could hear the whispered rantings of his two best friends as they made their way to the infirmary doors. He was beginning to regret ever having told them about returning to the infirmary for a quick check-up and chat with the girl, providing that she was even conscious at this point. He had been thinking about her all day and had been sufficiently distracted during all of his lessons. He was more than thankful that Professor Snape seemed to have taken a mini-holiday and left Professor Dumbledore in charge of his class or Gryffindor would have lost more than the usual fifty points during that class.
A loud sneeze behind him pulled Harry from his thoughts.
"Ronald that was highly disgusting!"
"I can't help it if that mane you call hair tickles my nose!"
Harry rolled his eyes and looked over his shoulder at the deserted hallway.
"If you two can't behave I will march you straight back up to the tower."
Hermione's small voice was the first to answer.
"Sorry Harry."
"Yea mate, sorry."
"Alright, her bed is toward the left end of the ward next to the big window on the end. Make sure that Madam Pomfrey does not hear your footsteps, I will try to get her to tend to me as close to the girl as possible," and before he could forget, "and Ron? Please, try to keep your opinion about her looks to yourself."
A "very funny, Harry" was the grumbled answer he received before they silently approached the double doors of the infirmary. Harry took hold of the ancient, brass door knob and gave it a little push, but nothing happened. The disembodied voice of the medi-witch made him jump back and draw his wand on reflex.
"State your name and form of malady."
"Uhmm…Harry Potter….errr…nightmare side-effects?"
There were a few seconds of silence before a small click could be heard from the door.
"You may enter," the voice said gravely.
"Thanks," Harry responded softly before pocketing his wand and opening the door quietly, scanning the spacious room for Madam Pomfrey. She seemed busy tending to two new patients situated only a couple of beds over to the right of the entrance doors. Harry quickly stepped through and felt the telltale 'swish' of his friends passing him before he closed the door behind him. Without giving the two another thought he focused all of his attention on the nurse, whom he waited for patiently to realize he had entered.
Without looking up from a Slytherin fourth-year the medi-witch addressed him. "Please move closer to the potions cabinet, Mr. Potter, and wait for me on a hospital bed."
"Yes, Madam Pomfrey."
Harry moved to a bed that was right across from the girl's privacy screen and seated himself on the end of it, nonchalantly gazing at the occupant between the sheets. In that moment Ron and Hermione slid off the cloak to uncover their heads only as they too looked at the girl in the bed.
"Wuhmph."
Hermione rolled her eyes before she whispered, "how very eloquent Ron, now if you could translate that for us we could actually respond."
Ron looked over at Harry and then back at the sleeping form.
"You didn't tell me she looked like this!" Ron's voice sounded accusingly, just as it had only an hour earlier when Seamus ate the last éclair from the dessert tray at dinner.
"Yes, I did tell you how she looked like," Harry glanced down the hall to where Madam Pomfrey was still tending to her other two patients.
"You said she looked like Snape!" A small shudder ran through Ron as he remembered his best friend comparing the beautiful creature before him to that pasty, snarling git.
"Honestly!" Hermione had enough of this hormonal banter and moved closer to the girl on the bed. She removed her small hand from the cloak and barely tilted the other girl's head to the right, exposing the scar under her left ear. Just as Harry had told them, the scar really was a smaller version of his own, but that Harry's curse scar seemed to be a head-on hit, hers must have been created from another angle. Before Hermione could touch it Harry hissed at them to get back under the cloak.
"Sorry for the wait Mr. Potter, but I am sure you will understand, especially with all these students still attempting entrance without being seriously ill," Madam Pomfrey's echoing footsteps came to rest right beside him as she pulled out her wand and run it over his form.
"So, tell me Mr. Potter what has been ailing you?"
"Uhmm . . . well I have been very dehydrated lately and have mind-numbing headaches," Harry could see a disembodied hand trying to catch a lock from the girl's hair before it was hit with a small smack from a smaller one, unmistakably Hermione's. Both arms disappeared just in time before Madam Pomfrey whirled around to see where the sound had come from. The nurse walked over to her other patient and tugged at the blankets a bit, smoothing out some non-existing wrinkles before returning to Harry's side and resuming her assessment.
"Well, Mr. Potter, it seems that…"
The doors to the infirmary opened and Albus Dumbledore entered the ward in a flurry of robes and beard. Harry's blood ran cold as he tried to make eye contact with his invisible friends, urging them to take cover from the all-seeing eyes of the headmaster.
Hermione saw the wide-eyed look of her friend and tried to look around the privacy screen to get a glimpse on who had just entered. It was Madam Pomfrey who gave away the newcomer.
"Good evening Headmaster, how may I help you?"
'Oh bugger!'
Hermione began pulling at Ron's sleeves, pressing him down into a kneeling position that she soon followed. She quickly pointed her finger under the hospital bed and received a puzzled look from him. With a not so subtle push, she shoved him under the bed and followed before the Headmaster could round the corner and get a glimpse of them under their cloak. Unfortunately, the space under the bed was very limited and Hermione found her face plastered against his hard upper abdomen, while her body rested between his spread legs; definitely not an innocent position. She shifted her weight a bit and must have hit her elbow against his thigh, forcing a small groan from Ron's lips before his hands took a firm grip on her upper arms and turned her easily. Before she could blink twice Ron had her back hauled up against his chest, her legs wrapped within his in a cross-legged style, and the invisibility cloak fully wrapped around both of them. They were really getting too old for both of them to be under the cloak.
Two pairs of shoes came into view to their right and Ron's arm enfolded around her waist and pulled her closer to him, while his other was busy removing her hair from his face, exposing her left ear to his lips.
"Whatever you do, don't move," he barely whispered, his hot breath tickling across her ear and cheek. Who was he kidding? Hermione did not want to be known as the only Head Girl at Hogwarts to have been caught spying on the Headmaster under an infirmary bed, plastered against the chest, and other areas, of her best friend who, as luck should have it, belongs to the most fertile Wizarding family of the past quarter century! Thus, she kept quiet.
"Ah, Harry, it seems you took my advice to heart."
Harry looked into the smiling face of the Headmaster and nodded.
"Mr. Potter is only dehydrated, nothing a good potion will rid him of," Madam Pomfrey responded quietly and bustled over to the cabinet, selecting one of the many vials before returning to Harry's side, uncorking the liquid in the process. With trembling fingers he took the sky-blue vial from her hand and downed the cool, sticky liquid in one go. As the potion began taking effect he glanced over at the girl on the bed across from him.
"Has she awoken yet, Madam Pomfrey?" There was something about her that forced his protective nature to take over his better judgment. For all he knew she could have been planted amongst them for a purpose. Harry shook himself. If he didn't watch out he would wake up one day and look into the mirror to see the spitting image of Snape.
"No, she has not. However, her health has been vastly improving over the past twenty-four hours and she is stable enough to awaken anytime."
"That is wonderful news Poppy, indeed," said the Headmaster as he took a few steps closer to her bed and looked over his shoulder at Harry. "Now, Harry if you are feeling better I must ask you to return to your dormitory for the evening. Madam Pomfrey and I have important business to discuss."
"Yes, Headmaster," Harry responded automatically and jumped off the bed in a cat-like motion.
"Lots of fluids for the next forty-eight hours, Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey clipped before ushering him toward the double doors.
As the doors closed behind him with a soft thud he allowed himself to think freely about how in the world Ron and Hermione were going to make it out of there undetected. He only hoped that Professor Dumbledore had been too preoccupied to realize Harry had deliberately cleared his mind of that bit of information. With a heavy sigh he made his way back to Gryffindor tower to start on his small mountain of homework. Maybe the two would actually hear something of value while they waited.
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Madam Pomfrey strode back to the Headmaster at a swift pace, stopping only once to verify that the students in her care were truly asleep.
"What is amiss, Albus?"
"Poppy, I would like to talk to you about perhaps forcing Alanna out of unconsciousness."
The medi-witch inhaled sharply. "On what grounds do you think it necessary?"
"We have to find out more about what happened to her, in order to protect her adequately."
"Surely, Albus, this can wait a few more days bef—"
"It can not. Most high-potent protection spells can only be applied while the protected is awake and conscious, and based on what we know about her she will bring a high price amongst Voldemort's followers."
Madam Pomfrey flinched at the mention of the name, but shrugged off the feeling of dread that crawled up her spine whenever it was used.
"If she has not woken by tomorrow morning I will consent to it."
Albus nodded gravely and turned to leave, halting after a few steps.
"Ah, Poppy, before I forget. The small scar on her neck may have been caused by—"
The roaring of the fire at the end of the ward attracted the attention of both adults, while the familiar black figure of the Potions Master stepped through the hearth and down the long isle toward them.
Hermione had been straining to listen to the conversation taking place above her that she did not notice the small sound of frustration escaping her lips when the Headmaster had been cut off, or the big hand that was now firmly planted on those same lips stifling any future sound or movement.
Poppy watched the Potions Master approaching, his long strides eating up the ground beneath his black Oxfords. With a sideway glance at Albus, she formally excused herself and retreated into her small office, too mentally exhausted to tolerate the sharp tongue lashing that usually comes with a side of Snape.
Severus approached the Headmaster and nodded at him sharply in greeting, retreating further down the hall for undisturbed privacy. Regrettably, this also brought him closer to…Miss Flint… lying quietly in her bed just as he had left her last. A cold sneer flitted over his features as he averted his gaze from her form to the waiting Headmaster before him.
"Your suspicions were correct, Headmaster," Severus said idly crossing his arms over his broad chest.
"I have thought as much. Have you found out anything that may help us?" Albus said gravely.
"The Dark Lord has taken out his anger on Lucius, and he is not fit to receive guests of any social status at this time," Severus' lips curled in a twisted smile. "During our visit he received a letter from Draco, who promptly informed him about Miss Flint's arrival. He knows she is here and he is not very happy about these turn of events."
Albus thoughtfully stroked his beard and walked to Alanna's bedside looking down upon her sleeping face.
"We should assume that not only Voldemort, but also Lucius would like to bring her under their control."
Severus stepped around the other side of the bed to fully face Albus.
"I am afraid that it is not that simple, Albus. I not only paid Lucius a visit, but have also inflicted the company of Avery upon myself. According to his truth-serum induced explanation there are at least eight other Death Eaters who would love to inflict pain on Farrell's daughter. She, supposedly, hexed and out-maneuvered eight grown men, while two more are currently missing from the Dark Lord's ranks. Although the likelihood of Avery having been supplied with misleading information is great, we should not dismiss these ludicrous conclusions yet," Severus scoffed darkly before adding. "It seems, Albus, that we may have been graced with the presence of a murderess."
Albus looked over his half-moon glasses at Severus.
"This may pose a problem," he moved slowly to the foot of the bed, "I have asked Madam Pomfrey to wake her forcibly by tomorrow morning; we shall know more by then. In the meanwhile, I have the pressing responsibility of appointing a guardian for the child. I have owled multiple families including the Weasleys."
Ron, who had been shocked since the word Death Eater had fallen, had to forcibly bite his tongue on that statement. He didn't know what was worse, the fact that there could be a murderer under his family's roof, or that a girl, who potentially could be a future girl-friend would probably become his…what…half-sister? An uncomfortable feeling in his arm brought him back from his personal nightmare. It seemed that in his shock he must have pressed Hermione a bit too tightly around the waist, her sharp little finger nails digging into the soft flesh of his forearm. He instantly let up on his death grip and took an inaudible, cleansing breath.
"Do you think it wise, Headmaster?" Severus narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "To affiliate this girl with an Order member may put us at danger."
"Severus, a guardian has to be appointed as soon as possible, for there have already been three other petitions at the Ministry.
"Who?" The question was short and to the point.
"I believe they are Malfoy, McNair, and Knott."
All three names left a bad taste in Severus' mouth. He knew exactly what those lechers would to do a young and possibly innocent girl. She would loose that rosy complexion within four days, of that he was certain. Although he did not trust her or her motives, he did not want to see a girl her age tied to any of those men.
"I will take it upon myself, Headmaster, to keep an extra close eye on her activities while she is here at Hogwarts. Perhaps, I will be able to foil any dangerous behavior that may ensue."
"Of that, dear boy, I am most certain," Albus hid his chuckle behind a bout of coughing. "In interim, I want to advise you that I left a detailed summary of today's Potions classes on your desk. I thought you may be interested in reviewing them before tomorrow."
Severus face turned rigid and cold, as his spine straightened and he forcefully whipped his body around to face the exiting Headmaster one more time. While his robes elegantly draped around his frame he did not notice the black fabric striking Alanna's face in the process.
"Yes, I would very much like to resume my duties this evening. The bloody Baron has already asked for an audience to inform me of the latest rule breaking within my own house," his voice sounded sullen, but firm as he bid Albus a good night and swept out of the infirmary at top speed.
"Good night, Severus," Albus watched the professor exit, before looking over his shoulder toward the occupied bed.
"And Miss Granger?" A high pitched squeak came from under the bed, "Please, make sure you see your Head of House before you retire tonight," with that he too left the hospital wing, softly closing the doors in his wake.
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The warm swirling essence of vanilla slapped her in the face. She inhaled deeply, tasting the rosemary on the tip of her tongue, with a hint of musk. Hmmm…that brilliant house elf must be making Rosemary Chicken again! Sweet Merlin, she was hungry!
But something seemed to be wrong with her eyelids; they would not open on her physical command. Alanna's tongue tentatively licked over her chapped lips in an attempt to moisten them, sending a bolt of pure pain from her lips down to the tips of her toes. With as little movement as possible she analyzed and mentally catalogued every pain exuding spot on her body, concluding that her head and neck hurt the most.
And why, by Merlin's wand, was her bed so awfully lumpy?
She shifted slightly on the mattress and winced at the contact. Either she was lying on sandpaper or these must bee the most uncomfortable sheets known to the Wizarding world.
With an effort that rivaled the strength of a fully grown troll, Alanna finally opened her eyes to be welcomed by an unfocused world drenched in semi-darkness. A ray of soft light fell across her face, shielding her vision from the two people slowly emerging from beneath the bed. With every waking second, she felt the tingling sensations of a headache that grew splitting within minutes, her mouth bone dry, and her tongue a foreign object that needed to be removed. A small motion to her right alerted Alanna to a blindingly orange object, barely ten centimeters from her fingertips. She could make out two huge eyes and a nose looking over the side of the bed at her, and wondered if she must have voiced her thoughts on the Rosemary chicken out loud. Her gaze flitted over the short, fire-headed elf, who was looking at her as if she had grown a second head over night.
'Hello fiery-little-elf. I wonder who you belong to…' little red dots began to dance at the side of her vision and Alanna closed her eyes in a soft groan, fighting down the bout of dizziness that shook her vision. She hoped she could ask for some water before the elf disappeared.
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'Oh, bugger. Oh, bugger. Oh, bugger.'
"Oh, bugger!" Hermione scrambled from under the bed and got up as swiftly as her tingling limbs would let her. Professor McGonagall would find out about her spying ways within the next five minutes and the thought of being caught made her blood run cold. She is evolving into an embarrassment to the title of Head Girl.
"We need to get out of here, 'Mione, before Madam Pomfrey comes and catches us as well," Ron's limbs had fallen asleep during the time spent in their crowded hiding place, that he barely kept himself upright on his knees, bracing himself on the side of the bed. A swift glance at the conscious girl assured him that—
'Wait a minute…the girl is awake!'
The shock must have been evident because she closed her eyes to his gaze and swallowed convulsively she softly spoke.
"Water…"
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Author's Note: Hey everyone! I know you thought I would forget my story, but alas I presented you with a HUGE chapter. I am writing on the next right now, so never fear. If you are as happy with this chapter as I am PLEASE review. It is the food for my tired brain cells. Cookies are welcomed as well! As usual, I bow down to the goddess of all beta's…MYSTICSONG! Who found a better word for loafers.