The Pitfalls of Being an Insufferable Know-it-all

Six

I took my time, walking slowly into the Dyfi forest, enjoying the quiet of my surroundings and finding it a good opportunity in which to order my thoughts.

I'd been in this particular forest before. It was one of the places I'd visited with my team, after we'd identified concerns with the number of Augurey breeding-pairs living within the area. We'd not found anything notable then, and I wasn't sure what I hoped to find this time around. In fact, I was confident I'd find nothing. Still, I could hope for inspiration, if nothing else.

And, I must say, I was inspired, except, it wasn't very productive. It's not often my imagination comes to life, but under the shroud of the canopy and confronted by the quiet all around me, my mind conjured murky scenes of crime and skulduggery; people stealing into the forest in the dead of night, laying traps, maybe—hunting nests…

The images were so vivid, I nearly succeeded in scaring myself. A chill came over me and I paused in a clearing, peering into the dense woodland and listening hard, as if expecting to spot some mysterious figure lurking behind a tree trunk. A figure wearing a black, hooded cloak, maybe…

But I didn't imagine it was Severus Snape, even as I thought back to Cresswell and his claims. Besides, if Snape were involved, he would surely be at the top of any organisation, I thought. He'd have people to do the lurking for him.

I looked all around me, but there was, as expected, nothing. No sign of anyone having recently been there. Nothing…

I turned my head up to study what was above me. It's always hard to identify the potential home of an Augurey phoenix, and there were none visible to me at that time. Anyone looking to interfere in their natural habitat really would have to have specialised knowledge, I decided.

Naturally, Uncovering the Secrets of the Augurey and Other Creatures by Theodore Ridley and Severus Snape, pricked at me impatiently for consideration. Luckily, I'd noted down the institution responsible for publishing this work and I fully intended to pay them a visit.

My next step would be to visit the offices of the Practical Potioneer.

These, it turned out, were situated in London, squashed in between a Muggle restaurant and a bank. There was no time wasted between me returning from Snowdonia and then appearing on their doorstep.

There is only one word that fits to describe the premises I found myself in: dingy. It was in marked contrast to the sophistication of the Society up in Edinburgh.

A bespectacled man looked up from where he sat at a writing desk. 'May I help you?'

I introduced myself and then detailed my purpose for being there. 'Do you retain the original manuscripts of your publications? And if so, would it be possible for me to view them?'

He didn't look too put out by my request and that buoyed me up. Clearly, they were a much friendlier faction of the potion-making industry here.

'Depends what you're looking for,' he replied, assessing me over his glasses.

'It's, ah, a work published seven years ago, called Uncovering the Secrets of the Augurey and Other Creatures. It was written jointly by Theodore Ridley and Severus Snape.'

He didn't look particularly impressed by my choice. He frowned in thought. 'Sounds a bit dry… No wonder you can't find it anywhere.' He smiled. 'I'm sure we'll have it in the archives. Ideally, you should have made an appointment, but I'm not busy, so if you'd like to follow me… You'll have to view it in situ, I'm afraid; we don't allow them to be removed from the building.'

I indicated my ready agreement and followed him down a set of stairs into a gloomy passage. Torches flared to life as we passed by them and we had to walk to the very end before a door materialised.

'Here we go,' said the clerk, removing his wand.

I stuffed my hands into my bag and removed a scroll of parchment and a quill. 'I'm allowed to take notes?'

He nodded as the door opened and revealed an impossibly large room filled with stacks and stacks of papers, folders, boxes, books, plates… It was never-ending.

He saw my expression of dismay, because he said with a little laugh, 'Don't worry; we do have a system, despite appearances.'

It was true. He was able to quickly locate the records for the year in question, and then he rummaged through an alphabetised range of boxes. I watched with great anticipation… Can't believe how naïve I was.

'A-ha!' he trilled, lifting off a lid and peering inwards. 'Oh,' he remarked slowly. 'That's… odd…'

'How do you mean?' I asked, standing there with my quill and parchment poised.

His voice was muffled over the sound of his rummaging. 'It's not here.'

I felt myself droop with disappointment. 'Are you quite sure? Could it have been misplaced?'

He shook his head vigorously. 'No; they're charmed to remain in order; they can't be removed any further than...'

I matched his frown, filled with resignation. Evidently, someone had circumvented the charm. I stuffed my writing implements away with a sigh.

'There must be an explanation,' commented my puzzled companion.

He mumbled something about investigating further, but I took my leave. I felt there was no point me hanging around. They wouldn't find the manuscript; I was confident they wouldn't. I was confident someone had come in, broken in perhaps, and taken it.

The big question, of course, was who?

Uneasily, I thought of Snape. I thought of him 'misplacing' his own copy, taking the only one from the library at the Society, borrowing Ridley's as well, and now, the original manuscript had disappeared from the archives of the Practical Potioneer.

This couldn't be ignored; it added up to something, I knew. I just couldn't, or didn't have the right facts to, put my finger on it. Thwarted, yet again, I stopped off in the Leaky Cauldron for a pick-me-up in the form of some dinner.

Trust my luck, but a few of my colleagues were stood at the bar when I entered. Before I could do a u-turn, I was spotted.

'How's the holiday going, Hermione?' one of them called. 'The office has been really quiet while you've been off.'

This was no casual observation, I was sure; it was very much pointed, and I didn't have the patience to deal with their digs that evening. When they reluctantly offered to get me a drink, I told them I had better things to do and left. No doubt they enjoyed a half hour's moan about me afterwards, but it wouldn't have been the first time, and well, I just didn't care.

I went elsewhere to find sustenance and, following that, spent an hour or two wandering the streets like an urchin, trying to plan out what I would need to do next. I didn't reach much of a consensus with myself, to be honest, despite the time spent deliberating. I considered the possibility of trying my luck with Cresswell again, but doubts over his reliability put me off. Beyond that, I was stuck.

It was late when I finally returned home. I Apparated directly into my living room, collapsing straight onto the sofa with a sigh. I rubbed a hand over my eyes, enjoying a chance to relax, and pondered over the possibility of heading right to bed. It seemed the best option for me after the day I'd had, and I was about follow my own advice, when:

'Well… Shall we sit here all night?' sounded out of the darkness.

I was scared to death at the sudden sound of this voice; it's no exaggeration. I yelped with fright, leapt to my feet, brought the lights to life, and then thrust out my wand in the direction of my intruder.

I gasped in horror. 'What on earth are you doing here? How did you get in here?'

Severus Snape was sitting at my kitchen table, looking as if he owned it.

'What do you want?' I queried again, and, I fear, a little tremulously; though I maintain my wand was steady.

He, however, seemed unconcerned my wand was aimed at him. His own was nowhere to be seen. He stood and I trained my wand to match his progress step-for-step. One of his disdainful looks I received for my trouble.

'Oh, give over, Granger,' he muttered, having the actual cheek to sound long-suffering, when it was me being imposed on! 'If you were really planning on it, you'd have hexed me by now.'

I readjusted my clammy grip on my wand, but did not lower it. It was my indignation over how unfailingly foolish he made me feel that I kept it pointed at him, with a ready hex poised on the tip of my tongue.

He glanced around the room and then the lights were dimming considerably, while the curtains started drawing themselves shut across all the windows. Apparently satisfied, he settled himself into an armchair.

'This is cosy,' he remarked sardonically.

I could only stare.

'Have a seat, Miss Granger.'

The complete front of the man—barging into my home and then ordering me about in it—left me speechless. Still does when I think back on it.

'Sit down,' he said next, when I hadn't moved, and this time, there was an underlying edge of steel in his voice.

'Oh, I'll sit, Snape, but under my own steam, thank you! How dare you intrude into my house like this! By rights, I should bloody well send for the Aurors and have you removed! How long have you been here? Have you had a good little snoop about my things, eh? And these are my lights,' I continued resentfully. 'If I want them dimmed, I'll do the dimming!'

So saying, the lamps roared back to their full glory. Not two seconds later, they were back to a dull glow. I gaped at him, furiously re-igniting them again. It was so ludicrous to be carrying on in this way, but the principle of it pricked so irritably at me that I couldn't help it.

My defiance gave way to helplessness when he just sat there, casually unwrapping a liquorice wand, yes, a liquorice wand, and said, 'Finished?' before putting it in his mouth.

I let out a furious breath and sat down, slamming my wand onto the coffee table so hard I was briefly worried I might have broken it. I put my chin in my hands and worked on calming myself down.

It didn't help that his next words were:

'Believe me, Granger, rummaging around your personal effects is so low on my list of priorities, it's non-existent.'

I glared at him from the corner of my eye; he was examining his cuffs coolly, chewing on his liquorice. I frowned to myself, wondering how on earth I was supposed to play this. After all, I'd discovered certain things about him, unverified things, certainly, that couldn't be ignored. The facts, admittedly, were scant, and so I knew I'd have to tread carefully. He's led me up the garden path once (umpteen times) before—I was determined not to traverse it again.

What can I say? I'm an optimist at heart.

'Why aren't you in Norway?' I asked carefully, feeling this was a reasonable opening gambit.

'Why indeed?' he replied serenely, as if my question had been some unanswerable, philosophical conundrum.

I nearly despaired right there and then over his complete insufferability; I'm not sure that's even a proper word, but if it's not, it's one I made up to apply solely to him.

'What sort of answer is that?'

'What sort of question is it?' he shot back immediately.

'That's where you went!'

'Was it?' he posed, getting to his feet and stalking over to the kitchen table again. He glanced at my ever-present map; I was only grateful my more recent discoveries and observations were documented in my notebook—kept on my person.

Suddenly, he was laughing quietly to himself; a deep chuckle, and I was almost afraid to imagine what it signified.

'People are so gullible,' he murmured, and I felt myself tense expectantly. 'I mean, what the hell would I be doing traipsing around a Norwegian fjord?' He looked at me directly. 'Glaciers, of course, being such an indispensable resource for potion-making.'

He smiled to himself, while I clenched my jaw and wondered if he might be a few sandwiches short of a picnic.

'Are you saying you weren't in Norway? That you never were?'

'Never been north of Scotland in my life.' He sat at the table and pulled one my charts towards him.

'I don't understand,' I admitted reluctantly.

'I didn't you expect you to—you've arrived very much in the middle of this story.'

I decided he obviously enjoyed speaking in riddles and metaphors. I enjoyed it far less. 'Are you going to start at the beginning, then?'

He took his time replying. 'I haven't decided.'

I nearly screamed in frustration. I dug my nails into my thigh to release some of my irritation, and when I spoke, it was through decidedly clenched teeth.

'So what precisely, may I ask, have you broken into my house for?'

He looked up from his study and his eyes narrowed. 'Because you, Miss Granger, are incapable of keeping your nose out of what doesn't concern you.'

My jaw dropped in outrage.

'You've seriously jeopardised my plans—'

'Your plans?' I questioned, jumping to my feet and joining him at the table. 'What plans might they be? Frolicking in the Dyfi forest, perhaps?'

I was trying to match his dry manner of speaking. Unfortunately, instead of annoying him, I appeared to amuse him.

'I assure you, I've never frolicked in my life.'

I could believe that.

'But you have been in the forest?'

'Of course,' he confirmed calmly.

I hesitated about saying anything further, not wanting to reveal too much of my hand, such that it was, too soon. He evidently noticed my indecision, however.

'Something you want to ask me regarding the forest in question?'

Still caught in two minds, I responded with a burning question of my own. 'Why are you here?'

His expression was maddeningly inscrutable as he reached inside his robe and pulled out a small leather-bound notebook. At his leisure, he flicked through it until he found what he desired.

'This morning you visited Mr George Cresswell. Who put you onto him?'

I was astonished. Again. My mouth fell open but no sound came out for a time.

'How do you know I went to see him?' I managed to eke out.

'You really should have taken the opportunity I gave you to get out of this business, Granger.' His mouth was a firm line of disapproval.

'I see… That's what you'd call questioning my integrity in a room full of Ministry officials, is it? An… opportunity…'

Perhaps this is something I should have kept quiet for a while longer, but I was so riled and felt so frustratingly on the back-foot, I couldn't stop myself. And it was worth it for the brief flicker of surprise that appeared across his face. It was very brief; but a concession, nonetheless.

He nodded to himself. 'I wondered at your subsequent actions.'

'Oh, supposed to put myself by the wayside, was I?' I grimaced.

'If you had any sense, yes.'

I rolled my eyes at his insistence on being so bloody cryptic all of the bloody time. I had no idea what he was talking about; it seemed to me he'd managed to answer precisely none of my questions.

'Did you trespass only to affirm my apparent lack of sense?'

'Was merely a bonus, Miss Granger,' he replied with a self-satisfied smirk.

I was about ready to demand he leave, unable to put up any longer with him enjoying himself at my expense. Perhaps he recognised I was at the end of my tether, because what he said next erased a significant part of my ire in one fell swoop.

'If you must know, I've been aware of a scam involving the shipping, and illegal breeding, of protected species in this country. Indeed, I've been looking into it for some time.'

A thousand and one different questions jumped to my lips, but, wisely, I bit them off.

'I was getting close to them,' he continued, 'until your lot came parading through the forests and woodlands with your bloody maps and measuring sticks.'

The scorn was nearly palpable.

I opened my mouth indignantly, but he overrode any chance to protest by leaning forward in his seat and looking properly animated, for a change.

'Yes,' he stated firmly. 'You managed to send them all to ground! What kind of idiot is going to risk their chances when there are Ministry personnel crawling about everywhere? Busybodies sticking their heads into burrows, and flying around treetops, and poking their noses under rocks for sign of a bloody flobberworm!'

He glared at me, and Merlin, it was one of his specially patented ones, because I could still feel it well after he'd turned his eyes back to his notebook. How did he have the ability to trivialise something, something important to me, to the point where I felt a little a bit mortified—for myself? How does that happen? I still can't stand it.

I should very much like to have defended myself, and righteously so, but… he didn't give me a chance.

'Just when I thought I'd picked up the scent again, the bloody Prophet starts stirring up a hornet's nest because you can't keep a lid on anything, and suddenly I'm having to publicly account for myself. Perhaps now you see the merits of a phantom expedition to Norway?'

I was silent for a time—absorbing what he'd revealed. He appeared content to let me have a moment of reflection.

He spent the interlude unwrapping another liquorice wand.

'You wanted to appear as though you were unbothered? To appear as though you thought there was nothing in the Prophet's reports? And with the Norway trip, people would think precisely that.'

'Quite so.'

I looked curiously at the curtains, which he'd been at pains to close once the lights had come on. 'You've been hiding away all this time? How—'

'Irrelevant, Granger. Suffice it to say, I know how to operate incognito…'

I wondered if there were anyone else involved in this supposed charade, but decided he'd not tell me if I asked.

'And fobbing off the Ministry…?'

'The perpetrators would have dispersed long before the Ministry could have marshalled an investigation. Better they just stay out of it.'

His tone was snide, but I only felt a flush of relief that the hadn't really distrusted my work. Of course, this left me feeling not a little foolish. After all, I didn't know this wasn't another tall tale, did I? I hated that, apparently, I could be so easily appeased by him. I summoned the hurt I'd felt as I'd listened to the way he and the others had discredited me, and it was still potent. Regardless of his intentions, he'd used me to manoeuvre his pieces into place. Thinking on this cavalier behaviour served to dampen any vanity on my part.

'You hope to catch them red-handed, then…'

'What else is there?'

'Who are they?'

Maybe my resentment over his behaviour was now creeping into my tone, for he surveyed me piercingly and I tried not to squirm.

'Perhaps you'd like to suggest a culprit?' he challenged.

I thought about telling him what I'd found out—about him. Admittedly, if this story of his would prove to be true, then my doubts could easily be rubbished. The trouble, however, was that I didn't know if it was true. Perhaps that sentimental, emotional part of me believed he was trustworthy. But logic told me to look at the precedents—told me I needed proof. So, again, I mentioned nothing of my suspicions.

'I've no idea,' I said, as blankly as I could manage.

He didn't press the point, but I wasn't so gullible to take it to mean he believed me.

'I've an idea of some who are involved, but this all blew up just when I was near to unmasking the ringleader.'

'I see.'

I didn't see. There was much I still didn't understand. Furthermore, it sounded to me as though he were being deliberately vague, and, naturally, that didn't help my case towards him.

'How did you know I went to see Cresswell today? Have you been spying on me?'

He smirked. 'I hope your vanity isn't too bruised when I say I've not been spying on you.'

I blushed despite myself.

'What did he say to you?'

I wanted to ignore his question, but I thought failing to answer would speak just as much volume as if I did the truth.

'He's seen some people in the forest, at night, that's all.'

'Now there's a crime…' he sneered.

'He doesn't speak very highly of you,' I added, a little antagonistically, it must be said. Still, why I thought he would show any emotion at this, I don't know. He looked like he couldn't give two hoots about Cresswell's opinion.

'You maintain you're unaware who put you on to Cresswell?'

'Yes,' I hissed through clenched teeth. 'You have an idea, though, I take it?'

I felt it was so; if the slight upturn at the corners of his mouth was anything to go by.

'Perhaps.'

Something snapped within me then. 'Look,' I said firmly, getting to my feet. 'I'll admit freely you know more about this matter than I do. If that's only what you wanted to satisfy yourself over, then there, you have it. Otherwise, I fail to see why you bothered coming here to tell me half a story that raises more questions that it bloody well answers. Answers, incidentally, you evidently want to keep to yourself. As far as I can see, this is nothing to do with me. You may go your way, and I shall go mine, and I can only hope we shan't meet in the middle.'

I was proud of my little speech. I was proud of the authority in my tone. I was pleased the derisive note I'd ended on sparked a faint glimmer of anger in his eyes.

And when I pointed my wand at the door for it to swing open, I felt satisfaction. My thoughts were why should I have to put up with this behaviour? I didn't owe him anything. I didn't want to get involved with him; not when I didn't fully trust or understand him. Not when he thought he could manipulate me without care. Not when he rode roughshod over propriety and wouldn't even explain himself for it.

His chair was pushed back with a sharp screech and I only just managed to contain a flinch as he stood. He came around to my side of the table and, for a quick moment, I forgot any satisfaction at getting a rise out of him.

'Nothing to do with you?' he posed, repeating my words with an ominous relish. 'Even knowing half of the story is one half too much; far too much…'

My mouth dried out as he glared down at me and I think I felt myself physically shrink.

'You, Miss Granger, have walked blindly into very real danger.'

I think I became frozen to the spot. My faculties couldn't seem to get beyond his words to process anything further.

I watched the anger in his face melt into a sort of smug triumph.

'Shall I… close the door on my way out?' he purred softly.

Defeated comprehensively.

Again.

AN: Thanks for reading : )