One Day at a Time
Tarazet
The last time I had seen my brother Tarazet, fifteen years ago, flashed before my eyes and I quickly wished that he was not currently standing in front of me. Besides, what was he doing on Hogwarts' grounds? I was working, did he have no respect for that? How dare he potentially jeopardize my job! I did not want to be seen with a convicted criminal! I felt my blood beginning to boil and after struggling for a split second to form words with my mouth I spat out "What are you doing here?" He opened his mouth to reply but then I angrily cut him off upon seeing the Potter trio approaching my desk. "No, wait, I have students who want to talk to me."
Tarazet's eyes had a hungry gleam as he looked around the room full of bustling students, but when his eyes landed on Harry and his scar, they became absolutely ravenous. I saw a muscle in his arm twitch and I was sure he was fingering his wand. Harry glanced mildly worriedly at Tarazet before looking at me again. "Tarazet!" I snapped and he jumped, startled, before quickly taking his hands out of his pockets and clasping them together in front of him. "Move a bit away from my desk, you're taking up all the space." If I had been in a better mood I would have laughed at my own comment, imagining this skeleton, this wisp of a man taking up too much space. As it was, I watched as he grudgingly stepped a bit further away and gave Harry and his friends a bit more space.
"What can I do for you, Harry?" I said, forcing myself to act cheerful while cautiously watching Tarazet out of the corner of my eye.
"Oh, um, actually," Harry gave a quick laugh, "You see, Ron and I were having an argument and we wanted you to settle it."
Ron gave a sheepish grin and continued, "We were, uh, wondering who would win in a match of a werewolf against a vampire."
I noticed Hermione roll her eyes and say something that sounded like "Boys…"
I smiled in spite of myself and said "I would guess the vampire—they can strategize more than werewolves." Ron grinned widely while Harry looked mildly dejected and with a quick "thank you" the trio left, leaving me alone in the classroom with Tarazet who now leapt forward.
"You have Harry Potter, HARRY POTTER, in your classes, under your thumb, so nearby," he spluttered, his gaunt face twisted with an insane rage, "And--and--and you—you HAVEN'T DONE ANYTHING!"
"Lower your voice!" I hissed. The last thing I needed was somebody to walk in and think I was a Death Eater plotting with my brother.
"The reason for the Dark Lord's downfall, the reason for the slew of arrests after the end of the First War, and he's right under your thumb!" he hissed back.
"I'm not going to do anything to Harry! Drop it!" I said angrily.
"What, are you too afraid?" he snarled. "Too weak? You were never strong enough to do anything useful."
I felt pure rage coursing through my veins and my brain reflexively started going through the hexes I'd like to use on him. "I'm not taking the bait," I spit back. "We're moving on. What was your reason for coming here in the first place?"
"I came here because I couldn't believe that my sister was working for Albus Dumbledore," he sneered, in a tone of voice that was only slightly less anger-filled than that he had used when talking about Harry. "Dumbledore? That blind old bat, who can't tell the difference between muggles and wizards, mudbloods and purebloods? Not to mention one of the men responsible for my imprisonment. How could you?" His voice had a hint of hurt, of being betrayed when he said the last question.
"Is that all?" I asked impatiently. "Dumbledore is a perfectly nice, competent Headmaster," I angrily added, unable to keep myself from arguing back.
"What, are you becoming soft? Weak?" he said in a deadly whisper. "'Dumbledore's nice,'" he imitated my higher-pitched voice. I could feel my anger towards my brother quickly growing. "You've changed, wait, no, I take that back. You were always weak," he continued in his deadly whisper, only his voice cracked on the last sentence and that hint of hurt in his voice reappeared.
"Get out," I whispered, my voice shaking with rage.
"Yeah, you heard me," he said a bit louder, a bit more sure of himself, yet still with that betrayed tone. "You were never strong, you were always weak. Weak and useless!"
Something in me snapped. "GET OUT!" I screamed, suddenly no longer caring whether someone nearby overheard what we said. Tarazet jumped but didn't move beyond that. "GET OUT!" I screamed again, this time whipping out my wand and pointing it at him. Startled—and a bit afraid?—he whipped out his wand and nervously and frantically fired a simple spell at me. I easily deflected it and almost laughed. He essentially hadn't used his wand in fifteen years. If I wanted to I would be able to easily defeat him in a duel, not just defeat, crush, obliterate. I turned away from that appealing idea, though: I couldn't be found beating up my brother.
Lost in my thoughts and my rage I hadn't heard the door open, but I did hear the cold voice which said "Is there a problem here?" I looked up to see Snape standing by the doorway. Snape, in his turn, was looking at a very angry witch and a very angry wizard with their wands pointed at each other. The wall's paint was chipped behind me where I had deflected the spell and Tarazet's wand was spewing a few sparks, as he nervously regarded Snape. Sparks, really? I couldn't help but think with disgust. Did he really lose that much of his magical control while in Azkaban?
The room was silent, pregnant with the different possibilities of what might happen. Finally, through gritted teeth I quietly said: "Leave."
I pointed to the door with my wand and Tarazet pocketed his wand before walking towards the door. He turned around at the door and said, angrily articulating every syllable, "You're such a disappointment, Liseli."
"OUT!" I screamed, ignoring that Snape was standing in the room. The door slammed as Tarazet left, leaving Snape looking at me. My hands had balled into fists but I put them flat on my desk and pretended to be looking very intently at a piece of paper. I was shaking, and I desperately tried to gather my nerves and calm myself down. "I didn't need your help," I angrily said through gritted teeth, standing up straight to look him in the face. I was surprised when I glanced back at my desk, though, for there were two small blood spots on the papers on which I had lain my hands flat. I quickly looked at the palms of my hand and noticed, shocked, that they both had a small wound from which they were bleeding.
Snape strode closer to me and, frowning slightly, said in a disinterested tone, "Did he do that to you?"
"No. My nails must have broken the skin when I balled my hands into fists," I replied, surprised that I had not noticed this at the time.
"Give me your hand," he said in a slightly bored tone.
"Why?" I asked, suspicious.
"I'm not going to curse your hand off," he rolled his eyes. I tentatively held out my left hand. (That way if he did curse it off, it wasn't my wand hand.)
He took my hand in his and laid it palm up. I gave him a bewildered look and almost pulled my hand away before waiting to see what he was going to do. He proceeded to take his wand out and point it directly at the few drops of blood on my palm, before muttering something. The wound fully healed and I let out a quiet "Oh," upon realizing that had been his intention the entire time. I held out my other hand which he took to heal. I couldn't help but be mildly surprised that his hands were warm—I think I had expected them to be cold and scaly, like a snake or something. "Thanks," I said as roughly and not-caringly as I could.
"It's nothing," he replied coldly; he could do the rough, not-caring tone much better than I could.
A heavy silence invaded the room and sat between us. I desperately hoped that he hadn't overheard the earlier part of the conversation and thought that I shared my brother's views, for he seemed to be gazing at me rather intently. I quickly walked to my desk and brusquely gathered some papers together. "Well, I think I'm going to get heading back towards my quarters," I said in a falsely cheery voice, my arms filled with a book and some papers. Snape nodded in acknowledgment and left the room going one direction while I went the other.
…
Disclaimer: Still don't own J.K. Rowling's world.
A/N: So I have to say, that in this story things are never as simple as they seem. On a different note, a very big thank you to ChowLeslieChow, PollyWantCookie, Mywaychan and avalon for reviewing! Reviews always make my day :)