Prisoners of Azkaban, Probationary Diaries August 2009, Prisoners #19-09-1979 and #09-01-1960
oooOooo
August 19, 2009
Millicent stayed for a supper of Scotch Broth to discuss who might vouch for Severus. The resulting list is short. Most Slytherins unlikely to hex him on sight are either half-bloods, and thus excluded by law, or dead. His best bet might be Blaise Zabini and his wife Gabrielle, née Delacour. Millicent gave us their address. Owling them was my first task today. Madam Clif-Wyrt still feels guilty about the job; she let me send that owl free of charge. And when I lingered before the bulletin board, she watched me with pity in her eyes. I appreciate her sympathy. But I need more than that. Her good will won't keep me free.
When I left the Owl office, Madam Agan was waiting for me outside, her face hidden by the hood of her cloak. She did not seem to employ an Impervius Charm, although it was raining Crups and Kneazles.
"You need help," she said.
I wanted to shake my head and move past her. She frightens me. Worse, she scares Severus.
But I could not; it was true: I needed help. I couldn't move my left hand anymore. Severus' poultices and Healing Charms only kept the blood poisoning from spreading. How could I work like that? Even with magic, you need two hands for most jobs—especially the kind I might be allowed to do.
Agan produced a vial. "For your hand," she said.
I wanted to take it home, so Severus could analyse it. But she wouldn't allow that. What choice did I have?
I held the swollen lump of my hand out to her.
Swiftly, she poured the liquid over it. The last drops she sprinkled on my right hand. I barely glimpsed the substance. Milky. Pearlescent. A split second of almost-recognition—I've seen this before!—then it was gone, absorbed by the wounds—
—and I gaped at a hint of scars, letters faded into illegibility.
I stood inside the narrow dry column of my Impervius Charm and stared, at my hands, at her.
"Why?" I asked her. "Why are you doing this?"
Agan ignored my questions. "You are looking for work," she stated.
That must have been obvious to the most casual observer. I nodded.
"You should try the Tower House."
"The ancient western gatehouse of Hogwarts," she added, "beyond the edge of the Forbidden Forest.—An old witch lives there who cannot leave the house. Maybe she needs more assistance than her house-elf can provide." With that she turned and disappeared into the alleyway next to Scrivenshaft's on the other side of the street.
Writing this, the blood-quill cuts my skin with clean and clear incisions. I barely feel the pain. I am certain I've seen the substance in Agan's vial before. But based on my description and its effects, Severus does not recognise the potion.
Maybe Padma and Parvati are wrong, and Amrita Agan doesn't mean us any harm. Tomorrow I shall go to the Tower House. Perhaps there I shall find out more.
oooOooo
A/N: Many thanks to Ayerf for looking this over.
Further notes:
# A recipe for Scotch Broth may be found here: http:// www. scottishrecipes. co. uk/scotchbroth. htm (take out the spaces to use the URL)
# The western gatehouse is my own invention.
# While the substance in the vial is canon, its chemical composition and effects are not. Also, in canon Hermione never saw the substance.