Chapter eleven: Snape Scorched

"She knows about the dog," he said, leaning back in his armchair with a forgotten tome in his lap. "She thinks that's what happened to my leg."

"It is what happened to your leg," she reminded him gently, sitting on her own legs while she scrawled school budgets in a journal.

"Yes, but how does she know about the thing?" He huffed.

She smiled, looking up at him. "Father expressly told no one to go near it. I wouldn't be surprised if the Weasley twins went there directly after the Sorting Feast."

It didn't seem that she was bothered at all by it, but he knew better. He knew she was worried, thinking about it constantly, and it had likely seeped into her dreams. "Do you think she told them about it?"

"Possibly. She and Harry are close. He'll know if it's bothering her and she might discuss it just to wonder aloud what could be the reason."

"They'll think it's me."

"I don't doubt it."

*

"You're wrong," I told him again sternly. "Whatever his reason for trying to get passed that dog, it can't be to steal whatever it is. He- maybe he was trying to protect whatever is under there."

"From who?" Harry challenged. "I don't see anyone else with a limp. He probably released the troll as a diversion. Neville and I saw him heading towards the third floor at Halloween."

It had been two days, and I was starting to wish I'd never told them about it at all. If Miss Elora was helping him, then she knew what happened and she wouldn't help him if he was trying to steal something, a point of fact that Hermione pointed out for me.

"Unless you're implying that Miss Elora is helping him steal it," I said.

He backtracked immediately, as even the Slytherins would never accuse her of anything unsavory, "Of course not. Just, maybe he's tricking her too."

"Miss Elora's smarter than that," I told him.

"Besides," Hermione said, "He wouldn't try to steal something Dumbledore is trying to keep safe, and if he was, Dumbledore would know. We don't even know what it is he's supposedly trying to steal."

Harry nodded. "Right. We should see Hagrid after the game. He'll know."

Hermione sighed. "That's not quite what I meant, you know."

"Are you guys ready to see some real Quidditch?" Fred said, plopping down next to us at the breakfast table.

"QN doesn't count?" Neville asked.

"Nah," George grinned, sitting next to Hermione with a wink. "That's just a bit of fun. You'll see us at Slytherin and let me tell you, that's always the game people wait for. And we'd better win. We just heard McGonagall placing a bet against Snape. She'll be right angry if we lose, she always is."

"Oh?" Hermione asked, not looking at him. "Do you always lose?"

Fred looked personally attacked, sighing very deeply and looking quite put upon. "We haven't won Quidditch Season since Charlie graduated."

George stole a blueberry from Hermione's porridge, popped it into his mouth, and grinned at her. "Be our good luck charm, pidge?"

Like always, she pretended not to notice him and a few minutes later they had to head down to the pitch to meet the rest of the team before the game. Everyone seemed excited for the first Quidditch game of the year and the Great Hall was full of its usual chatter. Even the teachers seemed to be looking forward to it. Professor McGonagall indeed was giving Professor Snape sideways glances, chatting with Professor Sealocke- who I could tell had also bet on the game. Before long, everyone was making the journey down to the Quidditch Pitch and we were walking behind Seamus, Dean, and Ron- the latter of which sporting a twin dyed green hairdo.

"I like your hair," Harry commented, smirking and laughing even more when Ron's face went red. Hermione even smiled.

The stands were nearly overflowing, and everyone was wearing green or red and trying to shout their preference over each other. There was a shocking amount of red, and in fact the Slytherins seemed about the only ones wearing their color. Even Professor Snape was wearing a dark green scarf. Miss Elora didn't wear either color, only blue, and she and Professor Snape seemed to be talking about something important.

"Lilia, look! Here come the teams."

Harry pulled my attention down, and he was practically vibrating in excitement to see them. I could just make out the twins' red heads, and I could see Oliver at the front. Our Seeker's name was Edmond Fray, a fourth year who was terrified of his own sport and at practices- Harry always insisted on going- looked afraid of his own broom, much like he'd fall off. He was probably the most disappointed at Harry not taking his place.

The teams were all mounting their brooms; Edmond clambering onto his, Oliver seeming very focused, and all of the Slytherins mounted with grace in fluid movements. And then Madame Hooch's whistle sounded and fifteen brooms rose in the air.

The best part of the game, though Harry might disagree, was Lee Jordan's commentary. We knew him from spending time with the Weasley twins, and Ron's fear of his tarantula before the creature was confiscated by Professor McGonagall and sent back to his mother. Harry spent the time watching everything very avidly through a pair of binoculars Meredith had sent, while the rest of us were listening very hard at McGonagall and Lee Jordan.

"I mean after that open and revolting foul-"

"Jordan, I'm warning you!"

"Alright, alright. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure..."

Edmonds face, as close as we could tell, was pale and he was holding onto his broom as tight as he could so as not to fall off. Gryffindor was just back in possession when I could see the Seeker's broom jerk to one side. Then again.

I nudged Harry and the others, pointing and handing my binoculars to Hermione to see for herself. A few others around the stadium starting to notice as well, as the broom pulled him around and in spinning circles that the boy would never do in a million years.

The game kept going, though, with Slytherin scoring and the other of the house cheering. And Edmond's broom dipped lower. There were a few gasps, but most of the audience was still watching the game. Harry looked quite concerned when it jerked dangerously close to where we were, out in front in the stands.

"What can we do?" He asked. "You-you don't suppose it's the broom, do you?"

"I doubt it," Hermione said. "There are all sorts of charms on brooms to prevent them from doing this sort of thing."

"It couldn't be from Flint blocking him, could it," Neville asked to no one in particular, his own binoculars glued to his face.

"Can't have been," Hagrid said deeply. "Nothing could interfere with a broomstick but powerful magic, beyond what the likes of Marcus Flint could do."

At hearing that, Hermione brought my binoculars back to her face and scanned the crowds with them. More people were looking at Edmond. Edmond's broom was getting more out of control. "I knew it! Snape's jinxing the broom!"

"Snape?!" Harry said, his thoughts- having been excited and mildly concerned before- were now loathing in an instant.

I perked up, as I hate to admit I always did. "Professor Snape? He would never!"

"But he is!" Hermione said, harshly shoving the binoculars at me and pushing through the crowd with the words, "You guys stay here. I know what to do!"

I glanced towards the staff box, back at Harry and Neville who were both back to the game and Edmond's continuously troublesome broom, and then went after her. "Wait! It's got to be a mistake!"

I finally caught up to her under the stands, where she was pulling her wand out. I grabbed her arm, jerking it away from the direction of Snape's feet.

"What are you doing?" She demanded. "Fray can't fly without Snape messing with his broom, if he has no control he could hurt someone else!"

There was a collective of gasps throughout the stands and both of us hurriedly watched as Edmond Fray's broom shot forward towards Harry and Neville. Hermione shrieked as Edmond hit the stands, breaking the side of it and falling to the sand of the Quidditch Pitch floor. With Harry almost joining him. Everyone was trying to back away from the gaping hole, but someone was hanging by a board and a hand. Harry, with Neville trying to pull him back up.

"Snape's going to kill him," she said, pointing her wand again.

"No!" I grabbed her arm again and tried to jerk it away, but in the struggle the tip erupted, and Professor Snape's robes caught fire.

"What were you thinking!" She demanded.

"It can't have been him," I told her, ignoring the commotion of the teacher's box as they tried to put his robes out.

Hermione's shoulders sagged. "I know you like him, Lilia, but I saw it. You've got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn't blinking."

She didn't say Professor Snape this time, and that made me sad. She was giving me a look to make me understand the seriousness of situation; her brows raised, her jaw set, and her mind replaying Snape. But I couldn't believe it. I just couldn't. Harry was back on solid standing with Hagrid and Neville now, and that lead me to believe that whoever was after Edmond could actually have been after Harry, but it couldn't have been Professor Snape. It just couldn't.

"Wouldn't you need eye contact if you were to counter it as well? M-magic in general needs concentration. What if he was trying to help?"

For a moment she couldn't argue. Then she asked, "Then why did it stop when we set the fire?"

I didn't correct her that it had been an accident, the smell of the scorch still lingering. "It caught everyone's attention in the teacher box. Just because it wasn't Professor Snape, doesn't mean it wasn't another teacher. Miss Elora was right next to him, wouldn't she have noticed?"

I prayed to whatever deity, muggle or otherwise, that might hear- that she wouldn't bring up Professor Snape trying to get past the three headed dog. I could hear her thinking about it.

"I don't know," she said slowly. "He hates Harry a lot, and Edmond's runaway broom would be a perfect excuse..."

"I hate Malfoy," I told her, "but I don't want him dead. I trust him, Mione."

"And I trust you," she said. "Even if I'm unsure about him. But I'll still be watching him closely, and Harry and Neville won't be so easily pacified. They'll be just as convinced as I am. More! And I can't help you convince them otherwise until I figure out how I feel about it."

This was more than I had expected from her, and her mind told me it was more than she was entirely comfortable with offering. "That's more than fair."

She looked back at the feet in the professors' box worriedly. "You don't suppose we'll get in trouble for this, do you?"

I shrugged, and then pulled her away from the scene of the crime. Just in case. Harry was winded and mildly scared once we met up with him and Neville. And Neville was oozing worry. As soon as they saw us, they ran to us and the four of us all started talking at once. People were starting to stare- except Slytherin, who was celebrating their victory.

"Perhaps we should take this somewhere else," Hermione suggested.

"Hagrid said we could come by," Neville suggested.

I perked up. There was no way Professor Snape was trying to hurt the Seeker or Harry, there was just no way! If I couldn't convince them, maybe Hagrid could.

*

"Are you okay?" She patted him down, getting rid of soot and wrinkles and checking him over for burns. "Your robes are singed."

He didn't say anything, but moved away from her to pace back and forth. Quirrell. He hadn't expected him to be so bold. He had to be conversing regularly with him. The Dark Lord did always have a love for the dramatic- perhaps even more than Dumbledore.

"Severus," she said quietly, "Please say something."

"I can't."

Elora sat down on the ottoman in front of his favorite chair. "Obviously you can. Tell me what's going through that head of yours."

"What's going through my head could get me thrown in Azkaban, so no thank you."

"Sev-"

"Elora, please! Let me think without your voice adding to what's already in there! I should have killed him right there."

She inhaled through her nose sharply, setting her gloves and scarf down and standing to join him. "No, you can't have. Killing Quirrell would lose us the only way we could figure out Voldemort's plan and stop him."

"And how are we doing on that front?" He asked her harshly. "Because the last I checked, I was getting set on fire!"

Elora nodded understandingly. "Ah. So that's what this is about. Does she-"

He shook his head. "No. She doesn't think it's me, but Granger does- and so will the other two. If she hadn't been chasing after her friend, she might have been there with Potter and Longbottom wouldn't have been able to help them both."

"Hagrid was there," she reminded him softly. "Hagrid wouldn't have let anything happen to either of them, and you know that."

He nodded, and she was pleased to see that he was calming down. "I trust Hagrid implicitly with anything but a secret, you know that, but I only trust the two of us with our daughter's life."

She smiled. "You've never referred to her as our daughter before."

"Maybe not aloud," he revealed. "Especially if you're going to fall all over about it."

Elora hugged him tightly. He hugged her back.

"You smell like char."

"She is your daughter."

*

"He wouldn't," I tried to tell them.

"He did though," Harry argued. "I was literally hanging hundreds of feet above the ground, Lia. I'm pretty sure that kills people!"

"One hundred and twenty," Hermione whispered to Neville quietly while they watched us.

Harry turned to her. "That's not helping."

"Don't yell at her now, too. I'm not saying it isn't serious, I'm just saying that I don't think it's Professor Snape!"

"He wouldn't," Hagrid said. "Why, Professor Snape would never do anything to hurt a student, specially you!"

Hermione's face was suddenly very interested. "Why him especially?"

Hagrid uncharacteristically said nothing, firm about whatever was a secret staying one. His muddled mind was thinking about the Quidditch match anxiously. I slumped. At least he agreed with me that it couldn't have been Professor Snape.

"It had so be someone else," I told Harry. "I just know it."

"Then explain Snape trying to get past the three headed dog!"

Hagrid sat up straighter with furrowed, bushy brows. "How do you know about Fluffy?"

"That thing has a name?!" Neville gulped.

"Course he has a name," Hagrid told him. "He's mine. Loaned him ter Dumbledore to protect... nothin'. Protect nothin'. He jus' likes bein' inside is all."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "What's that door he was standing on then?"

"His closet."

"Whatever it is," Harry said, "Snape's going to try and steal it."

Hagrid and I chorused, "Rubbish!"

Hagrid continued. "He's a Hogwarts teacher. He'd do nothing of the sort."

"Then why did he try to kill me?"

"He didn't," I told him again. "I can't have been him."

Hagrid pointed with a beefy finger, "Now you all forget this. Forget the dog, forget this mess about Snape, an' stop asking questions about this. Yer meddlin' in things that aught not to be meddled with. It's dangerous and it's between Perfesser Dumbledore and..."

"Yes?" Harry asked eagerly.

I grinned, finally getting something worth while from him.

Nicolas Flamel.

A/N: It's been such a long time since I have posted anything. I have given up on any promises. My New Year's Resolution is to finish a few of these, I promise, just bear with me. Tell me what you think! Next chapter we go home for Christmas, and I'm looking forward to it.