Chapter 9

Muggle Potion

Charity spent the holidays at home with her parents. She was surprised to find that still nothing appeared in the Daily Prophet regarding the attack on Mr. Weasley. On her second morning back to school, however, an even more disturbing story filled the front page. It was a story that even the Prophet couldn't possibly ignore: Ten prisoners had escaped from Azkaban, the wizard prison. All ten had been imprisoned for committing atrocious acts as Death Eaters. The Ministry assumed that the breakout had been facilitated by Sirius Black, a very dangerous Death Eater who'd escaped from Azkaban two years earlier. Black had narrowly escaped near re-capture at Hogwarts almost a year after his escape and had not been heard from since. Couple this with the rumors about Lord Voldemort's return, and it was no wonder every square inch of Hogwarts was buzzing with speculation.

Professors were discouraged from discussing the matter with their students in a new decree issued by Doloris Umbridge. Although annoyed at being told what she could and couldn't talk about, Charity thought the decree was probably for the best. No sense falsely alarming the children. The way she figured it, the newly freed prisoners were likely already whooping it up with Black on some far far away tropical island and posed no threat to anyone in the northern hemisphere.

Meanwhile, Professor Hagrid had been put on probation by Professor Umbridge. That lucky Pocket Dragon, which Charity'd finally given to him after his return to Hogwarts two months ago, appeared to be working in reverse. Not only had he been placed on probation, but every time she saw him, he seemed to be coming off some new mishap with his magical creatures. Fresh bruises and cuts constantly decorated his face and hands these days. Charity felt a twinge of guilt when she thought about him and Trelawney being on probation; she knew she'd probably be paddling the same leaky boat alongside them if she hadn't tricked Umbridge with her Muggle jokes.

Rather than getting weighed down by this ominous start to the New Year, Charity preoccupied herself with other matters. At the end of the first week back, she sent the following message to Snape at breakfast:

Important: Research over holidays revealed potions currently being used by Muggles. Must test on wizards and witches. Meet me in my office tonight 20:00.

- Professor Burbage

The note disintegrated into a puff of sparkles, catching the attention of the professors sitting near Snape. He gave Charity a brief, undecipherable glance down the table. That evening, Charity waited in her office but was not at all sure that he would show. At precisely 20:00 she sat watching her fireplace but instead heard a tap at her door, which she opened to find Professor Snape. Bnickel became excited by the entrance of a visitor and kicked his heels noisily around his hutch. Snape barely gave the rabbit a glance and kept his distance.

"Welcome Professor Snape. Thank you for coming," Charity smiled. "I have everything set up in here," she said and led him through her grapevine wreath. Snape hesitated for a brief moment but then followed.

On the counter in her kitchenette was a large bottle of clear liquid, several smaller bottles of varying colors, a jar of green olives, and a silver cylinder, which bowed out slightly at the middle. Snape narrowed his eyes at the supplies and asked, "What's this?"

"It's the ingredients for a Muggle potion. In just the right doses, it appears to make Muggles very exuberant and happy, but too much will either knock them out or make them violently ill. Or both. I think they call it a 'Martini.'"

Snape shot Charity a venomous look, to which she replied, "Oh come on, Severus, I know you are very important and very busy, but I wanted to thank you for your help with my potions last term, and I knew you'd never come if you knew the visit was purely social." She was already shaking the cylinder and poured him a drink in a conical glass. As she handed him the drink, she asked, "One olive or two?"

He grudgingly took two. After taking an angry swig from his glass, Snape stood with Charity in an uncomfortable silence, during which she contemplated her motives. Why had she thought inviting Snape over was a good idea? Surely she knew to expect his unfriendly reaction. Was she just trying to take the Mickey out of him? As fun as that was, she was sure it wasn't the entire reason. It bothered her the way he walked around in such a stormy mood all the time. It was as if the weight of the world was constantly pressing down on his shoulders. While most everyone else only saw his severity, she also saw sadness. A sadness that, for some reason, she felt compelled to lighten. She wanted to give him a lighthearted respite from whatever it was that occupied his gloomy thoughts.

With his drink nearly gone, Snape's anger seemed to ebb. The lines that typically creased his forehead softened, and the dark clouds in his black eyes appeared to be breaking up. He surprised Charity when he abruptly said, "I've been thinking about your theory regarding Muggles and potions. I suppose in time - at the right time - potions could be a unifying factor."

Charity felt an unexpected thrill that he had actually considered her theory. She jumped right in. "You know, it's actually rather funny that Muggles haven't stumbled on some of our potions already. Look at this," she said as she reached into one of her cabinets and pulled out a small bag. She dumped the contents onto her counter. "Age defying eye creams. Wart remover. Look, here's one that will make the muscles in your arms bigger when you sprinkle it on your porridge every morning. All Muggle products. I'm telling you, it's only a matter of time before they stumble onto something truly magical."

While Snape was looking through the small pile, Charity poured from a bright green bottle into the shaker and, without asking, refilled both of their glasses, saying only "Appletini."

About half way through the new concoction, Snape said, "But Muggles don't have access to the ingredients that we use to make our potions."

"Half the wizarding world doesn't have access to the ingredients that you have!" Charity said, thinking of the rows of nefarious jars that lined his office shelves. Snape allowed himself a small, wicked smile, and Charity began to think that maybe there actually was something magical about these drinks after all. Snape was becoming downright companionable.

"I suppose you're right," she continued. "But what's to stop an owl from one day carrying, say…Abyssinian Shrivelfig seeds into a Muggle garden where they can thrive?"

"Don't you remember..." Snape said, looking at her incredulously. "No, I guess you were too young. Devil's Snare was once brought to a densely shaded forest near Muggle residences." Charity looked horrified. Devil's Snare was a vicious plant that would ensnare and strangle unsuspecting victims.

"How--?" Charity started to ask.

Snape answered her with a simple, "Death Eaters." Something in the way he said these words ran like ice down Charity's spine and temporarily offset the effects of the alcohol. Even though she was too young to know much about it at the time, she had heard plenty of stories about the horrible things Death Eaters had done to non-followers and Muggles. Now ten…no eleven…of them were on the loose. The familiar storm clouds gathered again in Snape's eyes, so Charity quickly busied herself with making the next round of drinks and searched for a change of subject.

Snape also seemed to make an effort to keep the topics light after that, but Charity could tell he was distracted. She began to feel the drinks swimming in her head and wasn't ready for him to suddenly set down his glass and tell her very seriously,

"If the time comes for wizards and Muggles to live closer together….when the time comes," he corrected himself after a sharp look from Charity. "You must be very careful. Don't try to rush it. There are dark forces working against this very thing happening at this moment, so you mustn't be too eager." He looked into her eyes with concern, as if searching for comprehension of his warning.

"Porfessor Snape, are you worried abou' me?" Charity asked, slurring slightly as a drunken smile widened on her lips.

"Yes, Porfessor Burbage," he said, slowly rolling his eyes to the ceiling as if he dreaded what he was going to say next. "Because I like you."

Charity screamed and laughed in victory. She jumped off her stool and pulled his face to her with both hands. She gave him a quick kiss on the mouth and then jumped back with another victorious yelp. Snape was caught completely off-guard by her reaction and stood rooted to his spot, looking utterly bewildered as to what to do. Charity only laughed harder. Lucky for him, she'd gone beyond her two drink limit and soon passed out cold, sparing him the need to react.

With a clearer head the next day, Charity had time to reflect on Snape's warning and wonder about its significance. Did this mean that he actually believed that what's-his-face had returned to his full powers and that the escaped Death Eaters had joined him? Did he actually know something that the general public didn't, or was he just towing Dumbledore's party line?

Charity sensed that Dumbledore considered a select group of professors at Hogwarts to be his higher council. Snape, along with McGonagall, was senior in that group. Charity had often suspected that a lot more went on up in Dumbledore's tower room than formulating curriculum, especially after McGonagall's interrogation the previous month; Hogwarts had clearly become more than just a school for witchcraft and wizardry. Sometimes the castle almost felt like sort of a base of operations for…for something. Were they plotting against Voldemort or for Fudge's job?

Snape's concern regarding dark forces had certainly seemed genuine. Perhaps he was merely being cautious because of the escaped Death Eaters…but could there be more to the story? Could Voldemort really be back? The mere thought was chilling. Charity found comfort in the knowledge that if, in fact, Voldemort was back, at least Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall were on to him. Surely they'd be working with others in the wider wizarding community to prevent his return to power. But shouldn't the Minister of Magic be part of that group? Why would Fudge stand out so strongly against them if the story were true?

Charity gingerly shook her head and muttered to Bnickel, who was lying lazily on her lap as she stroked his favorite spot between his ears, "Politics. See why I don't get involved?"

Ever since the evening of Muggle Potions, Snape and Charity had become noticeably friendlier with each other, even if Charity was the only one who actually noticed. When others were around, Snape was respectful but very formal with her. It appeared he wanted to keep their newfound friendship a secret. Charity reasoned to herself that he'd worked hard and long on his reputation as the resident anti-socialite, and it probably wasn't so easy to give all that up. Besides, respectful was a big enough improvement for her.

She seemed to run into Snape much more often these days and wasn't sure that this was entirely coincidental. She'd be looking for a book in the restricted section of the library and see him through the bookshelf, searching in the next aisle. Or she'd find him examining the hump on the one-eyed witch near her office. Whenever they did find themselves alone, they would have the nicest beginnings of a conversation - peppered with just the right amount of sarcasm - but within a few minutes, someone would walk by, and he would stalk off. When Charity wasn't bumping into Snape, she sometimes surprised herself by thinking about him.

A couple months into the newfound friendship, the school was thrown into an uproar. A group of students were found to have been secretly meeting to practice their Defense Against the Dark Arts. The Ministry seemed to think it was part of Dumbledore's plot to take over; not a far stretch seeing as the group called itself Dumbledore's Army. Rather than stick around to be prosecuted by the Ministry, Hogwarts' headmaster had gone into hiding. Charity's opinion of the Ministry had plummeted since meeting Professor Umbridge, so she figured that if Dumbledore was indeed forming his own army, he probably had good reason, and she was glad he'd escaped. Nevertheless, the situation didn't bode well for the students and staff left behind at Hogwarts, especially because the newly vacated position of headmaster was immediately filled by the one and only Doloris Umbridge.

Umbridge began her first day as headmistress with a literal bang. At about lunchtime, the castle corridors filled with loud booms and bright sparks as enchanted fireworks zoomed through them. Charity had been grading papers in her office before she ran out into the hallway to see what was causing the racket. A sparkling dragon flew through the hall toward her, and she ducked back into her office, slamming her door just in time. A few minutes later, she peeked out to see Professor Umbridge, followed closely by Filch, running down the corridor with a wild look in her eyes. Umbridge and Filch were flailing about ineffectively with a wand and a charred stick, respectively.

"Burbage!" Umbridge gasped as she passed. Her voice seemed to have lost all of its girlish charm. "Get your wand out of your arse and HELP!"

Charity dashed to her desk and grabbed her wand. She came back out into the hallway just as Umbridge and Filch's frantic bodies disappeared around the corner and Professor Vector emerged from his Arithmancy classroom looking thoroughly confused.

"Renegade fireworks," Charity explained as a huge Catherine wheel came charging down the corridor. She pointed her wand at it and shouted, "Evanesco!" expecting the firework to vanish. Instead, it split into ten smaller Catherine wheels that went bouncing all around. Charity flattened herself against the wall and barely avoided getting singed by a few of the burning wheels. She then noticed a silvery flash zoom into her office. She looked in and expected to see her papers aflame, but it was just Peeves, speechless and trembling from head to foot. She'd never seen him in this condition; the fireworks running rampant throughout the school had spooked him terribly. She shouted for him to stay in her office and slammed the door to protect him and her paperwork from damage.

Meanwhile, Vector was battling with a rocket that seemed to have taken a fancy to him. He performed an extinguishing charm, which worked nicely, but it didn't save either him or Charity from low-flying firecrackers, which first knocked Vector off his feet and then Charity, who fell on top of him. They laid on the stone floor, trying to catch their breath, when a group of sparklers came along and spelled out, 'Nanny Nanny Boo Boo,' in the air above them. The two professors looked at the words and then at each other and simultaneously broke into peels of laughter while flashes of orange, green, pink, and gold glitter whizzed and bounced and sizzled above them.

Wiping tears from her eyes, Charity noticed that the explosives were grudgingly moving away, as if some force was pushing them down the hall against their will. A rogue rocket made a mad attempt against the force, only to be repelled. Charity looked to the opposite end of the corridor and saw Snape, with his wand outstretched, calmly walking down the hall, muttering some sort of incantation under his breath. Seeing Snape so seriously taking on the rollicking combustibles brought on a whole new wave of uncontrollable guffaws.

As Snape pushed the flaming show to the end of the hall, he paused next to the pile of his fellow professors. He held out his wand-free hand to Charity, who took it and pulled herself up. Professor Vector sat up and took several deep breaths in an attempt to quell his laughter while looking nervously at Snape. Vector seemed to expect some sort of reprimand. Charity tried to explain to Snape what was so funny, but all she could get out in her jag of giggles was, "whoosh...boo boo…" She shook with more hilarity at every syllable. Snape merely shook his head, with one corner of his mouth turned up ever so slightly, before continuing down the hall. Vector looked bemusedly between the two of them, while Snape pushed the explosives around the corner and into the next corridor where Umbridge and Filch had disappeared.

Umbridge's voice could be heard moving further away as she screached, "Snape! Snape stop! Don't you see us here..."

At one point, the relationship between Charity and Snape almost moved beyond friendly. Trelawney had finally been sacked in early March and replaced by Firenze, a centaur from the Forbidden Forest. Hiring a part-human was quite an unusual move for the school and had been done by Dumbledore before his departure. It was generally assumed that the only reason Umbridge hadn't gotten rid of Firenze yet was because she was too busy dealing with other matters at the moment. Feeling a bit rebellious, Firenze and Professor Sinistra organized a small staff party out on the Hogwarts lawn, right under the new Headmistress' nose. They were expecting a meteor shower in the late hours one April evening and had invited all of the other professors, minus Umbridge, to view it with them.

These days the outdoors was much preferable to inside the castle, which had become overrun with dung bombs and random explosions ever since the Weasley twins, Fred and George, had decided they'd had enough of the place and made a very dramatic exit. It seemed as if at least half the remaining students were vying for the unofficial title of new school troublemaker, and they were all making an excellent case for themselves. Even so, it was a very small party that gathered on the lawn that evening, comprising only Firenze, Sinistra, Sprout, Flitwick, Snape, and Charity. McGonagall was embroiled in yet another conflict with Umbridge, while several other teachers were already busy preparing for the end-of-term exams. Madam Pomfrey was stuck up in the infirmary with a group of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws who had apparently gotten ahold of some bad berries in a treacle tart, likely the work of the lead trouble-maker-to-be.

The attending professors had appeared mildly surprised when Snape, the last to join the group, came strolling down the hill towards them with his cloak blowing out in the breeze, like a large bat descending upon them. They seemed to half expect him to shoo them back into the castle, but instead he came and stood silently among them. The party soon became smaller when Sprout and Flitwick received a note dropped by a passing owl that they were needed at once in the infirmary. Apparently another wave of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had just shown up with the same berry symptoms.

Firenze was restless. His paws continuously scraped the ground as he gazed up to the heavens with more than a few nervous, downward glances toward the Forbidden Forest; he had not left the Centaur herd that lived there on good terms. The group of professors stood at a fair distance from the forest, but Firenze was still taking a chance just being out there, especially at night.

"It shouldn't be long now," he said and told them that the return of this rare event was of great significance. He declined to expound on the nature of this significance in his secretive, Centaurian way.

The moon was big and bright, but thousands of stars were visible in the open sky, which was bordered by the tall trees of the Forbidden Forest on one side and the sharp spires of the castle on the other. Firenze seemed hardly able to contain himself when he abruptly announced, "Please pardon me. I must run up to the nearest hill for a closer look." He galloped off before he'd even finished his sentence.

Professor Sinistra was almost as itchy and called after Firenze, "I say, wait up, I'll join you!" She ran off after Firenze, and Charity and Snape found themselves unexpectedly alone under the starry sky.

Keeping her eyes trained upward, Charity asked Snape, "Do you study astrology?"

"No. I prefer to focus on the more, eh, proven branches of magic."

"So, you never wished on a shooting star?"

"Yes, I suppose I did when I was a boy."

"Aha! So you admit that you were once a child," Charity exclaimed. Snape glanced towards her questioningly, so she explained, "Oh, it's just that I have trouble picturing you ever being anything but a wicked potions master who thrives on sucking the joy out of children. To think that you were actually once a child - now that's an event of great significance," she teased, still looking up at the sky with a tiny smile playing on the corners of her mouth. Through her peripheral vision she could see Snape shaking his head slightly. Now that she had him on the subject…

"What kind of games did you play as a child? I was fond of cat in the cupboard."

"I don't know," he answered shortly.

"You don't know?"

"My childhood was a long time ago – a lot longer ago than yours."

Not willing to give up, she pursued, "Well, were your hair and eyes always this dark or did you start out blonde-haired and blue-eyed and get steadily darker as time went on?"

His black eyes stayed fixed on the sky as he answered, "I suppose I started out a bit lighter and have become darker over the years."

"Do you have any pictures of you as a child? I'd love to see them. Where did you grow up?"

Snape seemed exasperated by this line of questioning and said, "Questions, questions – do they ever end?"

"You could just answer them," she said. "Or…"

"Or?" Snape asked, looking down at her.

Turning her pretty face toward him, Charity said, "Well, if you're not going to answer them, I suppose you could stop them at the source." She blushed and grabbed his eyes with an engaging look. Snape's exasperation seemed to melt as he stared down at her. Charity could see that he was thinking about taking her up on her offer, and she grasped onto his hand under the long sleeves of his cloak. But Snape waited too long, and soon a shuffling noise came at them down the hill.

"Are we too late? Did we miss anything?" It was Professors Sprout and Flitwick rushing back from the infirmary.

"No, you didn't miss anything," Charity answered, giving Snape a disappointed look. She had gripped Snape's hand tighter because she knew his instinct would be to pull away at the sight of others. She was right about that, but when she refused to let go of his hand, he only shot her a reproving glance and stopped resisting.

"How are the students?" Charity asked.

"Oh fine, fine. I daresay they'll think twice about a second helping of dessert from now on. I suppose I should add a unit on 'how to detect a bad berry' to Herbology next term," answered Professor Sprout. As she was speaking, rumbling hooves approached.

"Look up…western sky…there it is!" shouted Firenze breathlessly as he pointed to the sky.

They all looked up and saw what looked like hundreds of stars streaking through the night. It was magnificent. They watched in wonder and silence as Charity and Snape remained standing very close to each other, their clasped hands safely hidden under Snape's long sleeve. Charity was surprised to feel what she was pretty sure was a silver and glass mood ring on his finger. She wondered what color it was just then.