"Empaths Aren't Meant For Revenge"

Severus finally comes home . . .and he is not happy with what has gone on!

It had been over eight hours since Kit had found Arista's note explaining where she was going and why. During that time, the SR's had done little save discuss what might be happening with Arista and her unauthorized pursuit of the Ghost Master. Mel was inclined to swear at her friend's reckless stupidity and pace, while Trish worried endlessly that Arista might be killed fighting the evil sorcerer. Kit was torn between admiring Arista for her determination and courage and at the same time glad he didn't have to confront the white-cloaked wizard again. As for Drake, he chafed at his enforced confinement, for neither of the girls was allowing him to do much besides rest and drink water and fruit juice every couple of hours. He wished he'd been able to speak with Arista before she left, he might have been able to talk her out of her wild scheme, or at the very least convince her to take her with him.

The waiting was driving him mad, and as a result he grew irritable and snappish. "Quit acting like my mother, won't you?" he growled at Trish when she came to ask if he needed anything else to drink or eat that afternoon. "I'm not on my deathbed yet."

"You very nearly were, you know!" Trish said shortly, her brown eyes flashing. "And don't take that tone with me, Drake Lockwood, I'm not your little sister!" She slammed the glass of pumpkin juice down on the coffee table so hard the table rattled and some of the juice slopped over the edge and onto some of Severus's potions journals that were scattered nearby.

"Damn it, now see what you made me do!" she cried. "I'm in enough trouble with Severus as it is, the last thing I need is to wreck his magazines!" she pointed her wand and muttered a quick drying charm.

Drake flushed, immediately regretting his bad temper. It took a good deal to get sunny Trish riled, she was normally the most easy going of them. "Sorry, Trish. I didn't mean that the way it sounded. It's not you I'm mad at. I'm just . . .I don't know, sick of being stuck here when I should be out there, helping her hunt down that bastard."

"And you're worried about her too," Trish said knowingly.

"Yeah. She's got more training than I do, she's good, but she's not in the same class as a real Hunter, like Colin or Jenna. Her going off solo like that . . ." he shook his head. "It wasn't smart. The best Hunters work with a partner, most times."

"Her mother didn't."

"Her mother was in a class by herself. And half the time she did have a partner, the dragon Fireflash. And Amelia didn't go solo until she had a year or more of experience, at least that's what Colin Flynn told me. Arista's not even a fully trained Dark Hunter."

"She's got Scout though. He's trained to track down and apprehend criminals."

"Right, but even Scout's no substitute for a Hunter partner."

Trish eyed him thoughtfully. "How do you know so much about Dark Hunters, Drake?"

He glanced away, embarrassed. "I, uh, have been studying up on them. Colin gave me some books on Hunter protocol and the requirements I need to apply to the Dark Hunter Academy in New York City."

"You're thinking of applying there?"

"Yeah, I've been considering it."

"Why there and not here, as an Auror?"

"Because the Ministry won't approve you for an Auror position until you're twenty-three at least. I don't want to wait that long. The Academy will take me right after I've graduated Hogwarts, provided I pass all their entrance exams. Besides, Hunters are a lot less . . .structured than the Auror Department. They're disciplined, but you can use your own initiative if you have to, and they're a lot more willing to teach you combat magic. I like their style. They do more than just catch criminals, they fight them, with magic and without it. They're the best at what they do, and I want to be the best too. Like Amelia Amarotti was and Colin Flynn is. And Severus too, come to think of it."

"Severus isn't a Dark Hunter."

"He bloody well could be if he wanted to. You didn't see him in action the way I did last summer, Trish. He kicked the Dragonmaster's ass good, and a bunch of other dragonslayers too. He's not just a Potions Master, Trish, believe me. If he were teaching us Defense, we'd be prepared for anything, trust me. I had one session with him before we took on the dragonslayer assignment and it was incredible." Drake smiled reminiscently. "He really knows his stuff, and God, he worked my ass off, but I learned more from him in an hour and a half than I ever did from all the other teachers we've had in five years at Hogwarts."

"But if the professor's so good at Defense, why won't Dumbledore let him teach it?"

"I don't know. I guess Dumbledore's got his reasons, but it's crazy. Maybe he doesn't want to lose his Potions Master, since he's one of the best in his field?" Drake speculated. "One thing I do know, is that I'd trust him at my back more than anybody else in the Auror Department, even Mad-Eye Moody. And I'm not just saying that 'cause he's my Head of House or anything like that. I'm not a suck up like Malfoy or Flint or Montague."

Trish nodded in understanding. "You've seen a side of him that hardly anyone else has. Like Arista and I have. He let you see the man, not just the snarky teacher."

"Exactly. And I have to admit, it impressed the hell out of me. He's more than what he seems, a whole lot more."

"I know. I just wish he'd let the others see it too. Half the Gryffindors think he's nothing more than a greasy git who doesn't know the meaning of the word nice. And all of them wonder how I can stand living here with him. But they don't know the Severus I do."

Drake shrugged. "I'm sure he has his reasons too. Maybe one day he will, who knows?"

"And maybe pigs will fly," Trish chuckled. "While we're wishing, I guess we'd better wish that Arista gets back in one piece before Severus does. Otherwise we're gonna see a side of him none of us will like at all, heaven help us."

Drake grimaced. "That girl! Some of the things she does make me want to shake her, I swear it."

"Me too." Trish commiserated. "But for all of that, we love her anyway."

"Yeah," Drake agreed, then went beet red once he realized what he'd said. "Ummm . . .I mean . . ."

"It's okay. I won't tell anyone. Promise."

"How long have you known?"

"Awhile. Since you two came back from America," Trish admitted.

"Was it that obvious?" he groaned.

"Only to someone who knows you really well," Trish laughed.

"Does Arista know? Because she, uh, never said anything."

"You'll have to ask her that question, Drake. I'm sure she'll be happy to answer it," Trish said mysteriously.

"You think?" Drake looked hopeful and scared at the same time. "Because I don't want her to think I'm pushing her into anything if she doesn't feel the same way, you know? I don't want to ruin our friendship, and I don't know if you can still be friends with someone and love them too."

"Of course you can, silly!" Trish chuckled. "That's the way it was for Severus and Amelia. They were friends and lovers."

Drake gaped at her. "How the blazes do you know that? He said that to you?"

"Of course not. Arista learned that from Jenna and she told me. Severus rarely talks about Amelia, I think it makes him too sad. Anyhow, if they could do it, why not you and Arista?"

Drake was silent for several moments, considering the possibilities. Slowly, he nodded. "You're right. I was being an idiot. Thanks, Trish. When Arista gets back, I'll talk to her. I should've done it before, but well, it never seemed to be the right time."

"Sometimes you have to make time."

"Where'd you learn all this relationship stuff anyhow?"

"Number one, I'm a girl, and some of it's instinctive. Number two, I learned a lot about what not to do from watching my mother with all of her boyfriends. Sometimes watching things fall apart is very instructive. My parents' marriage is a good example. Neither of them ever made time for the other, it was always me, me, me. They never really talked either, not about what mattered. That's the main reason why they split up. Well, that and because my mum can be a first class harpy bitch. But my dad let her walk all over him too. That's one mistake I'll never make."

"Is that why you and Rowan aren't going out anymore?"

"Partly. And it's also because he's a conceited jock who thinks I study too much and that Severus is a jerk."

"Who needs him then?" Drake asked angrily. "He's nothing but a peacock, Trish. You can do much better."

"Aww, that's sweet of you, Drake. You're the nicest Slytherin I know."

"Uh, well, like I said before, there're king snakes as well as cobras in my House, so don't judge us all by the way Marsh and Hathaway and their kind act. Not all Slytherins are bad."

"And not all Hufflepuffs are pushovers," Trish added.

"That's for darn sure," Mel agreed, coming into the room. "Who's hungry? I'm starving. Kit's making hamburgers, or trying to."

Trish rose to her feet hastily. "He is? I didn't know he could cook."

"Uh . . ."Mel began.

"I'd better go see what he's up to, before he sets the house on fire or something." Trish ran into the kitchen.

Mel and Drake looked at each other. Then they both burst out laughing.

No one was laughing an hour later, however, when Snape returned unexpectedly from his covert mission for Dumbledore. Trish had managed to save dinner and they were all lounging around in the den, discussing Quidditch, in the case of Mel and Kit, and the upcoming year of classes, in the case of Drake and Trish, when they heard the sound of a key turning in the lock.

Everyone froze. "Oh God, what do we do?" Mel hissed.

"Just act normal, Seton, you dope," Kit growled, looking as if he wished he were a thousand miles away and anything but normal.

The door opened, and a weary looking Professor Snape entered. He tossed his cloak on the coat rack before glancing up to see the four friends seated in his living room. "What's this, a slumber party?"

Libby awoke and whuffed softly before ambling over to the Potions Master, tail wagging. Severus reached down to scratch the puppy's ears and Libby licked his hand ecstatically. Comfrey appeared out of the air and rubbed about his ankles, purring a welcome.

"Uh, hi, Professor," Kit managed, not looking him in the eye, instead pretending to read one of the magazines on the table. He didn't think Snape noticed, the professor was busy petting his cat.

"Hello, Kit," he answered.

Mel and Drake echoed him, fake smiles plastered all over their faces. Trish rose to her feet and came over to give him a hug, as was her wont. "Hi, Severus," she said, wondering if her voice sounded nervous or not. "Uh, I've got some leftovers in the fridge if you want to eat something."

"Later, maybe," he answered, returning her hug. Then he glanced about the room for his daughter. "Where's Arista?"

Time seemed to freeze, and none of them dared to look at each other.

Then Mel blurted, "She, uh, took Scout for a walk just now."

Snape seemed to find nothing unusual with that, he simply nodded, then continued past them to his bedroom to get showered and changed out of his robes. They waited until they heard the shower running before they started to talk, quietly.

"Mel, how could you say that?" Trish hissed, her brown eyes wide in her round face. She was a terrible liar, and she made it a point to never to lie to her guardian, for fear he would regret his decision to take her in and send her away to live in some orphanage.

Mel spread her hands, looking guilty and defensive at the same time. "What? I had to say something. If we didn't answer him it would've looked weird. And it is partially true, she did take Scout for a walk."

"To hunt down a necromancer," Drake said dryly.

"What are you going to tell him an hour from now when Arista isn't home yet?" Kit asked in an undertone, shooting a look at the closed bedroom door.

"The truth," Drake answered before Mel could open her mouth. "It's no use in lying to him, Mel, that'll only make him more furious."

"At least let him eat first. He'll be in a better mood if he's not hungry, right?" Mel surmised, chewing her nails.

Trish nodded. "Probably. And maybe we'll get lucky and Arista will show up."

Kit and Drake rolled their eyes at the blond girl's optimism. "Like that'll ever happen," Kit muttered. "We'd have a better chance of a meteor crashing into the house."

"It doesn't hurt to hope for the best," Trish shot back, disgruntled by Kit's cavalier dismissal of her opinion. Then she sighed and said, "As long as I'm hoping, I might as well hope not to be grounded for the rest of the summer."

Mel cast her friend a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry I dragged you into this. None of this would have happened if my stupid powers hadn't manifested."

"That wasn't something you could control," Drake pointed out. "As for the rest of it, we chose to help you, you didn't make us. We knew the risks when we agreed to fight Wrackspur, so don't you dare go blaming yourself for this, Melinda Seton!" He shook his arm pointedly in the tall girl's face. It was healed on the outside, but it still ached and he felt very tired and weak.

"But—"

"But nothing," Drake cut her off. "You and Arista are two of a kind, always taking responsibility for the decisions others make. What one of us chooses to do is out of your hands, and so are the consequences of that action. We're not little kids, Mel, we can make up our own minds and live with it. I knew it would be dangerous when I agreed to go back, but the danger was worth it because good came out of it, the Tower ghosts set free and the curse broken and Wrackspur defeated."

"You think that was worth you almost getting killed?"

"Yeah," he answered. "You'd do the same for one of us."

"Maybe," she shot back, then grinned to show she wasn't serious.

"Drake, how good do you think Arista's chances are of finding Wrackspur?" Kit asked softly.

"Better than even, with Scout tracking. He always gets his quarry and the trail was fresh. He should have no trouble tracing Wrackspur. As far as Arista bringing him in, she's been well trained, better than any of us, and I'd say she has a good chance of succeeding. Better than she does of surviving Snape's temper when he finds out."

As if on cue, the bedroom door opened. Severus was now wearing a pair of gray cargo pants and a long sleeved blue shirt with the saying Sarcasm—just one more service I offer printed in large letters across it. He'd traded his black boots for comfortable sneakers and his hair was pulled back in a neat tail.

"Neat shirt, sir," Kit remarked, his mouth quirking in amusement.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Trish picked it out. Arista's still not back yet?" he frowned at the door. "What'd she do, take Scout to China?" He shook his head then walked into the kitchen to grab a bite to eat.

The kids breathed a sigh of relief when he departed, though one and all wondered what had become of the professor's keen powers of observation.

Actually, Severus had noticed the way the kids wouldn't meet his eyes squarely, the swift furtive glances, and the nervous tapping of Trish's hand against her knee. He suspected they were covering for Arista for some reason, and he would soon pry the information out of them, but he preferred to do so after he'd eaten dinner, he was less apt to give himself an ulcer that way.

So he allowed himself a leisurely supper before he returned to the den to grill his daughter's friends on Arista's whereabouts.

He went on the attack immediately, narrowing his eyes and giving all of them one of his famous Snape glares, the kind that made you feel as if he could see right through you. "All right, now which one of you is going to answer my question truthfully?"

"What question, sir?" Trish asked, greatly daring.

"The only one I haven't yet gotten a straight answer to, Tricia Greenbough," he began sternly. "Where is Arista?"

"Uh, well, you see . . ." she began, stammering and twisting a lock of her hair around and around her finger.

"Yes?"

Drake cleared his throat. Severus darted a sharp glance at him. "You have something to say, Lockwood?"

Drake nodded, forcing himself to meet the Potion Master's dark piercing gaze. "Yes, sir. But before I answer your question, I have to tell you something else. And I think you might want to sit down, Professor, 'cause this could take awhile."

Snape arched an eyebrow. "Really?" Then he picked Comfrey up off of his recliner and sat down, putting the gray cat on the back of it. "Talk, Lockwood."

Drake obeyed, telling Snape how they had gone to visit the Tower of London, the conversation with the ghost of Anne Boleyn, the discovery that Mel was a ghostwalker and the request that they help break the curse set upon the ghost in the Tower.

Snape listened carefully to the boy's words, noting that as implausible as the tale sounded, Drake did not hesitate once when he told it, and his eyes remained fixed steadily on Severus's own. Severus was a master at deception and he could tell that Drake was not lying. The others too seemed more relaxed as soon as Lockwood had begun speaking, relieved to be rid of the burden of truth, perhaps.

He held up a hand midway through Drake's tale, casting a searching glance at Mel. "You're a ghostwalker, Seton?"

"Yes, sir, I am," she said quietly.

"Prove it. Shift into your phantom form."

"Okay," Mel agreed, then blurred into her phantom form.

Severus blinked, the swiftness of her transformation had caught him by surprise, even though he knew she was telling the truth. "Do you know how rare your talent is, Melinda Seton? There hasn't been a ghostwalker—a true ghostwalker—in over five centuries."

"I know that, sir." She changed back into solid form. "Queen Anne told me. She also told me that You-Know-Who wouldn't like it if he learned that a new ghostwalker was around."

"That is correct. He wouldn't like it at all. You challenge his mastery over death by your very existence. But that is neither here nor there." He turned back to Drake. "Continue, Lockwood."

Drake did so, detailing how they had fought the Ghost Master and his own injury by Fade, as well as Arista's healing of it.

"Let me get this straight," Severus began slowly, his temper beginning to ignite as he listened to the extraordinary risks the five teenagers had taken in daring to go up against the likes of an experienced dark wizard like Dirk Wrackspur, who was an old contemporary of Voldemort and well-known to the Potions Master as a member of Voldemort's inner circle of Death Eaters. "You five decided to have a duel with one of the most notorious criminals in London on the say so of a five-hundred-year-old dead woman?"

"She needed our help, sir, and it didn't seem right to just refuse her." Mel began.

"But it did seem right to risk all of your lives to break a centuries old curse?" he repeated with an edge to his voice. "Did all of you inhale a Heroic Imbecile Potion or something? Because that's the only way I can think of to explain the sheer stupidity of your actions." He fixed them with his most disapproving glare. "I suppose it never crossed your mind to inform an adult about this request? Or that it might have been a carefully orchestrated trap, a lure to draw you in, so the Ghost Master could finish off the last ghostwalker in Britain?"

"But why would they want to do that, sir?" Mel asked. "They were slaves to the Ghost Master, they just wanted to be free of him."

"Maybe so, Miss Seton, but the fact remains that slaves do what their master wishes, and you could have been walking into a cleverly disguised trap. And if that had been the case, do you know what would have happened then? You would have died!" he growled. "Died alone with no one the wiser, another conquest for Wrackspur, another victory for Voldemort."

"But that didn't happen, Professor Snape," Kit said. "We beat Wrackspur."

Snape sneered at him. "You beat Wrackspur, Ambrosius, by a combination of sheer dumb luck and because God watches over fools and reckless teenage wizards. If he'd been less arrogant, he could have killed you all in five minutes, using the Killing Curse. Not all the potions in my book would have saved you then." He scowled at Trish, who was hanging her head. "What happened to your promise to me, young lady? Didn't take you but three days for you to break it."

"I'm sorry, sir."

"Good. You should be. It's going to cost you too, but I'll get to that in a minute. What I want to know now is where the bloody hell is my other daughter and her magehound? Enlighten me please, Lockwood, since you seem to be the only one with guts enough to tell me the truth."

"Arista's gone to hunt down Dirk Wrackspur, Professor. She left this morning, we think."

Severus's hands clenched into fists. "Of all the idiotic, reckless, insane stunts!" he exploded, his eyes blazing with anger coated with fear. "Who the bloody hell does she think she is? Bloody God damn Merlin? Even her mother never—" he broke off abruptly, recalling that Amelia had indeed done something similar when she had gone to hunt down Nightshade alone. That was different. Amelia was a trained professional, sent out on an assignment, not a mere fifteen-year-old with barely two years of defense training. She's a Healer, not a Dark Hunter, blast it all! "How long ago did she leave?"

"Uh, I found the note when I woke up this morning, so maybe eight hours or more," Kit guessed, then winced when the Potions Master swore furiously.

"She took Scout and my Blackstaff with her?" the others nodded swiftly. "That's something, anyway. The Blackstaff's a good thing to have in a fight. Even so . . .You all have spellophone rings, how come it didn't occur to all of you brilliant scholars to call her on one?" he demanded scathingly.

"I don't know, sir," Trish said in a small voice. "We should've, though."

"Damn right you should've!" Snape roared at her. "Think, don't just react, that's something all of you need to learn. Arista especially, she's got a habit of rushing in where angels fear to tread, just like a Gryffindor."

"I think she was trying to protect us, sir," put in Drake loyally.

"I know that, Lockwood!" he snapped. "It's the curse of her Amarotti heritage. But if she's out there trying to protect you, whose going to protect her?"

"Scout?" Kit blurted before he could think better of it.

Snape shot him a withering glare. Kit cringed. "Don't be a smartass, Ambrosius." He twirled the ring about on his right hand. "Let's see if I can contact her," he muttered, half to himself. If not, he would cast a locator spell and go search for her himself, he vowed.

* * * * * *
Remus Lupin could not have been more shocked had a genie materialized in his room and offered him his heart's desire than he was when Arista walked through his fireplace with Scout and the notorious Ghost Master in tow.

Lupin knew of Wrackspur, his reputation as Voldemort's enforcer had preceded him, as had many stories of his cruelty and need to inflict pain upon Muggles and wizards alike. The Order of the Phoenix had long kept tabs on the Ghost Master, hoping to catch him in an illegal summoning and thus have an excuse to arrest him, but they had never managed to do so. The Ghost Master covered his tracks too well, vanishing like the spirits he commanded every time they drew too close. Most of the information they had on him had been gathered by Severus, who had described him as one of the most cold-hearted killers ever. Snape had told Lupin that Wrackspur would cheerfully slit his own mother's throat and smile, if he thought it would benefit his master.

Yet here he was, trussed as neatly as a Christmas goose for the pot, and who had brought him but a mere fifteen-year-old girl? Lupin could not help but whistle softly in admiration. Arista Snape was amazing, that was all there was to it.

Once they were safely inside his rooms, Lupin quickly placed a scramble charm over the fireplace, so no one could use Floo Powder to enter the room. Then he snapped a glowing force cage about Wrackspur, for he was taking no chances on this valuable prisoner escaping.

Then he sat back down on the tiny green sofa and said in a tone that was two parts wonder to one part disapproval, "You mind telling me how you managed to capture Wrackspur, Miss Snape?"

"You know about him then?"

Lupin nodded. "He's on the Ministry's Most Wanted list."

"I'm not surprised," she said, her mouth twisting into a grimace of disgust. "Scout was the one who tracked him down. He wasn't expecting anyone to come looking for him that wasn't a dark wizard and I caught him off guard."

"He doublecrossed Voldemort?"

"No, he failed a task Voldy set him," Arista informed him. Lupin grinned at the nickname. She quickly went on to explain about the ghosts in the Tower and Mel's being a ghostwalker and their battle with the revenants and Wrackspur.

"That was very brave of you, fighting the revenants like that," Lupin began. "Brave and also extremely stupid. You could have gotten killed, you should have contacted an adult before you went after them."

Arista winced. "Please, Remus. We didn't have a choice."

"There's always a choice," the werewolf argued.

"Fine. It was the best choice we could make," she shot back.

"I disagree. However, the point's moot now." He sighed. "Now I'm glad I never had kids, if this is the kind of thing you do. I take it Severus has no idea what you were up to?"

"God, no!" Arista chuckled.

"Didn't think so. Therefore I'll spare you my lecture, since he can give you one better than I can, God knows. What made you bring him here?"

"Because Dad told me that if he were ever away or unavailable and I was in trouble or something, I should contact you. I figured this qualified."

"It did, and I'll make sure he goes to trial and gets put away for life. I can't mention your name, you understand, but he'll get what's coming to him regardless."

Wrackspur huddled in a ball on the carpet, glaring at Lupin with his eerie gold gaze. Scout growled softly and the necromancer whimpered low in his throat and cringed away.

"Remus, can I ask you something?" Arista began hesitantly.

"Sure."

"Do you know where my dad goes on these little trips of his?"

Lupin looked startled. Then he said quietly, "I can't answer that, Arista. Whatever Severus does is between him and Dumbledore, they don't discuss it with anyone else. You'll have to ask Severus himself."

"I will." Along with a bunch of other questions, like why Wrackspur believes he's a Death Eater. She felt suddenly weary, tired beyond belief, tired and wounded in spirit. All she wanted now was to go home and sleep, and pray that her sleep did not contain nightmares.

Suddenly, her spellophone chimed. She reached into her pocket and pulled the midnight blue disk covered with silver sparkles out. Opening it, she hit the Receive key.

Professor Snape's face appeared out of the image gel in the bottom of the disk, and he looked ready to spit nails. "Arista, it's your father, if you get this message, I want you to get your ass back home right blasted now, young lady! You are in serious trouble, am I understood? If you're not home in five minutes, I'm coming to find you. Goodbye."

She winced. "Damn! I hoped I could get back before he came home. Just my rotten luck."

"Better hurry, he's not in a very patient mood."

"Or a forgiving one, I'll bet," she sighed, reaching for the Floo powder.

"Can't say I blame him. I'd be having a fit too if I came home and found my only daughter gone hunting a criminal alone."

"See you, Remus. And thanks for everything."

He waved off her thanks. "It was the least I could do. Good luck, Arista."

"Thanks." She whistled for Scout, then stepped into the fireplace. God, I am so dead. She tossed the Floo powder down and said clearly, "Snape residence, Spinner's End."

The next instant she vanished in a cloud of brilliant emerald smoke, leaving Remus to contact the Ministry and inform them that one of the most notorious criminals in the wizarding world was in the custody of the Order of the Phoenix.

* * * * * *

When Arista stepped out of the fireplace, Severus felt immense relief and searing anger at the same time. His temper prodded him to make some kind of sarcastic comment, but that impulse soon died when he caught sight of her eyes. They were no longer the eyes of a fifteen-year-old, but bright with painful knowledge. The knowledge that only comes after looking into the face of true evil. He knew the look, Amelia had worn it after defeating Slade, he'd seen it countless times when he looked in the mirror. He had hoped to never see it in Arista's eyes. The fires of his anger faded to ash.

Scout bounded out of the fireplace, obviously happy to be home and proud of completing yet another mission. He frisked up to the Potions Master, who had been standing slightly to the left of the coffee table. Severus petted him and told him he was a wonderful dog, then conjured him a steak dinner as a reward.

Arista glanced around at her friends, who bore mixed expressions of relief and warning. Plainly, they'd been on the receiving end of Snape's temper already. She flashed them an apologetic look, the last thing she'd wanted was for them to be in trouble with him over her.

"Did you find him?" Drake asked, and Arista was relived to note that he was much better than he had been this morning.

"Yes."

"Where is he then?" Kit demanded, peering hard at the fireplace, as if expecting Wrackspur to appear there.

"I turned him over to Lupin, who'll give him to the Ministry." Arista answered.

Mel opened her mouth to ask something, but was interrupted by Snape. "She'll answer all your questions later. Right now, you and I need to have a very long talk, young lady. Upstairs now." His tone brooked no argument.

"Yes, sir," Arista replied, knowing it was better to just get it over with. And yet, forbidding as his manner seemed, she got the odd feeling that he wasn't all that angry with her anymore. Which didn't make a bit of sense, and she wondered if she were reading him wrong. Perhaps after using her gift on Wrackspur that way, it became unreliable.

She mounted the stairs slowly, feeling much the way Anne Boleyn must have felt climbing the scaffold on Tower Green for her execution. This time he's gonna ground me for life, I just know it. I'm going to spend the rest of my school years under house arrest. And the worst part was she couldn't even resent him for it, for she knew she deserved it. She had known when she began this caper that it would end this way.

Upon entering her bedroom, which was thankfully, not the disaster it usually was when Mel and Trish shared it, she removed her pack and set it down near the closet. She'd have plenty of time to empty it later. She placed the Blackstaff against the closet door, she would give it back to her father after he was done screaming at her, it was safer that way.

She was grateful he'd decided to scold her in private, he could have done it in front of her friends and embarrassed her even more. Then again, that wasn't his way, to allow himself to lose his temper in public. She took a seat on her bed, hands folded in her lap, and wished this were over. Her head throbbed unmercifully.

Snape entered the room a moment later, closing the door behind him and casting a Muffliato charm on the room so they wouldn't be overheard. Arista hid a wince, this was worse than she thought. He tucked his wand away, then came to stand over her, fixing her with a most disapproving frown.

"I distinctly remember asking you not to get into trouble while I was gone, Arista Eileen Snape. Correct?"

"Yes, sir." She met his gaze steadily.

"Then would you mind enlightening me as to why you felt the need to go chasing after a dark wizard alone with only Scout for a companion? I know all about the Tower and Melinda's being a ghostwalker, you needn't repeat it," he added sharply when she opened her mouth.

"I was angry," she found herself saying, much to her surprise. "His stupid fell hound had nearly killed Drake, and he had gotten off with barely a scratch. It bothered me a lot. Sure, we'd won, the curse was broken and all, but it wasn't enough. He was still free, still able to hurt people, and he was Voldemort's follower. Worse he knew about Mel, what she was and all. I was afraid he would report that back to his master and then Voldy would send his Death Eaters out for her, to either capture her or kill her."

Snape nodded. "He would have, most definitely." Then he arched an eyebrow. "Voldy?"

"Mel's idea. If you can't beat them, humiliate them utterly," she returned with a hint of her old spirit. "I knew it was only a matter of time, and while she was safe here, she might not be at home. No one was safe as long as Wrackspur was free, able to give Voldy information."

"So you took it upon yourself to play Hunter and go after him."

"I had to go, I was the only one with more training," she argued. "I was the logical choice. One of us had already gotten hurt, I wasn't about to risk anyone else."

"Except yourself," he growled. "Why didn't you go to Lupin first, instead of running off to face Wrackspur alone? That would have been a logical choice."

"I didn't think of it," she admitted. "I was stupid, okay? Is that what you want to hear?" He remained impassive. After a moment, she continued. "I was careful, I took precautions, same as I had when we went to face him at the Tower. I'm not a total imbecile, you know." She went on to detail the preparations she'd made and how Scout had picked up the trail right away, bringing her at last to Wrackspur's front door.

"Then what happened?" Snape asked, and his voice was no longer stern, but soft.

"The door was locked, so I opened it with a Fastinus charm. He was afraid of Voldy coming for him, I think, because his place was warded against dark wizards, but not anyone else." She told him of how he'd tried to spring an ambush, how Scout had attacked him, and she had broken his wrist with the Blackstaff and tied him up with the constrictor rope. "He was so smug, even when I told him that he'd go to Azkaban. He laughed, said Azkaban didn't scare him, that he'd escape just like Sirius Black one day. He said some other things too, about you . . .lies, all of it," she said quickly, not wanting to get into that now. "I needed to know if he'd contacted his master, told him about Mel. But he wouldn't answer me. He reminded me what was in store for her once Voldy did find out, how he would come for her and kill her, and he smiled when he said it, he enjoyed thinking about how they were going to torture her or whatever!" Arista cried, her eyes flashing. "I could feel the satisfaction coming off him, it was—sickening. I . . .lost my temper. I asked him to tell me the truth and he said "make me". So I . . .went in his head . . .I know it was wrong, but I had to know if Mel was in danger and I hated him so much . . ." She began to shiver and then she closed her eyes. "When I was in his mind, I saw everything, he hadn't told Voldy yet about Mel, but he was planning to, soon as he got up guts enough . . .I saw other things too . . .his life, how he became what he was . . .it was horrible, Dad, he killed his own father, he was Muggleborn and he hated it, he thought he was better than they were, and he killed his father for money for his magical experiments . . .He liked hurting people, he loved the power it gave him . . .that was why he joined Voldemort, so he could rule alongside of him . . .I've never felt anything like that, so evil, so twisted . . .He didn't feel any remorse when he killed, none! He was cold, he might as well have been dead for all the feeling he had for the ones he killed . . ."

She opened her eyes then, and in them burned an awful knowledge. Snape moved over to sit next to her, but remained still, not saying anything, allowing her to continue revealing what had occurred in the cottage at her own pace. She needed to get it out of her system.

"I'd read about people like that, but reading's one thing and feeling it's another. It made me sick . . .and it also made me mad. Then I saw what he feared, his worst nightmare, and when I left his mind, I took it with me. He was afraid of me at first, asked what I was that could penetrate his mind without a spell, I told him and he sneered at me. Then he said that even if he did go to Azkaban, he would find a way to escape and join Voldy again and continue his campaign of death. He meant it too. He'd been a dark wizard a long time, Dad, he was sixty or something, but he used necromancy to make himself look younger. When he said that . . .I lost it completely. I-I fearcast at him, you know what that is?" Snape nodded. "I took his nightmare and made him relive it . . .all of it . . .I used my empathy as a weapon, something I swore I would never do. I swore an oath and I broke it . . .because of him. But that's not the worst part . . ." her voice trembled, and in her eyes was now shame and remorse and self-loathing. "The worst part was that a part of me . . .liked it. I was glad I hurt him . . .I wanted him to be in pain, me the Healer!" She stared down at her hands. "I stopped, once I realized what I'd done . . .but it was too late . . . what I did . . .it made me like him . . .no better than what he did to all those people . . .a monster . . ." she trailed off, her voice a painful rasp, tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes.

He caught her chin in his hands, forcing her to look at him. "Look at me, Arista," he ordered. "You, a monster? Never. You are nothing like he is, you never could be. Not in a thousand lifetimes. You regret and he never can. What you did was wrong, but that does not make you his equal, child. He's a murderer who kills for the fun of it, you can barely kill a spider without feeling guilty."

"Didn't you hear what I said, Dad?" she cried. "I hurt him and I liked it . . .what the hell does that make me?"

He grabbed her in his arms and hugged her to him. "It makes you human, Arista mine. That's all. Only human, just like everyone else. You're an empath, not a saint, you're allowed to make mistakes, yes, you are, don't shake your head! Anyone else, me, Lupin, Colin, would have felt the same as you did afterwards . . .the very same. It's natural to want revenge on those who have hurt you or your friends, hell if I'd been there, he wouldn't have been merely scared he would have been dead! Now, does that make me a terrible person?"

She shook her head, sobbing against his shirt. "It's not the same . . ."

"Why not? Because you as a Healer, hold yourself to be a paragon of virtue? That because you heal, you must never know anger, or hatred, or any of those petty emotions?" he demanded harshly. "Who's being arrogant now, Arista Snape? One mistake does not condemn you for life, sweetling. You always get a second chance." He held her tighter, stroking her hair and her back, over and over. "And you deserve a second chance, trust me." He sighed softly. "Shhh . . .it's okay. Empaths aren't meant for revenge . . .it costs you too damn much . . .but that's a good thing, a very good thing, Arista mine. . .We need compassion like yours in this world, to balance out the monsters like Wrackspur and Slade and Nightshade."

He held her for a long time, and was reminded of yet another night, over fifteen years ago, when he had held another empath this same way. You are so like your mother, child. So very like her.
At last Arista sat up and wiped her eyes. "Dad, how did Mom ever handle going after scum like that on a daily basis? How did she stand it?"

"It wasn't easy for her. Not at all. That's why she ended up here, because after Slade she was an emotional wreck. The only way I could help her was with a dreamwalk spell. She was good at what she did, but it cost her more than she would ever admit. Empaths aren't meant for revenge, that you need to leave to people like me, who are better able to deal with it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I'm tougher than you emotionally, I don't allow guilt to eat me alive, especially not over a piece of slime like Wrackspur, who doesn't deserve a shred of pity from anyone," he answered bluntly.

"Dad, when I told him who I was, he recognized my name," she began hesitantly. "He knew you. He said . . .this has to be a lie, but he believed it was the truth . . .he said you were one of them—a Death Eater. That you were a spy for Voldemort. I told him to shut up, but I could feel the truth in his words. He told me to ask you about marks or something, I didn't get all he was saying, but . . .It's not true, is it?" She gazed up at him, her eyes pleading.

Professor Snape sighed heavily. "For him, it's the truth. But it's not the whole truth."

"What? I don't understand."

"You will. I never intended to tell you this now, it's too early to reveal my hand this soon, but now I have no choice. What Wrackspur said was true, Arista. I am a spy. I'm Albus Dumbledore's secret agent, working undercover to gather information to bring down Voldemort. That's what I've been doing for the past fifteen years, inbetween teaching."

"My God! But why you?"

"That's not so easy to answer. But I'll try and explain it to you. Now be quiet and pay attention, because I'm only going to say this once." He cleared his throat, cursing Wrackspur from the depths of his soul, and then he told his daughter everything about his other life, his secret life as a spy that he had never revealed to anyone save Dumbledore and Amelia.

Severus tells his story to Arista, but will she understand and accept his past? Coming up next!