Chapter 14
Bella's POV
A few weeks later, in mid-March, we were all in Potions class.
I think everyone was generally surprised at how…pleasant Potions can be….without a greasy-haired git breathing down your neck, of course. People had quickly come to realize that, even though Esme was very kind, she did not permit people to goof off…The first Potions class was hilarious. I think everyone was kind of scared of her at first. That was a laugh—people scared of Esme, of all people. Ha!
"Settle down, class, settle down," Esme said, and when the class was silent, she continued, "Today, we will be learning about Antidotes. Golpalott's third Law—who can tell me—Ah, yes, Miss Granger?"
"Golpalott's Third Law states that the antidote for a blended poison will be equal to more than the sum of the antidotes for each of the separate components." Hermione recited immediately.
"Correct, Miss Granger. Ten points for Gryffindor!" At that, Esme launching into a slightly lengthy lecture.
"…Bezoars are stones taken from a goat's stomach and are useful antidotes to most poisons…." That was handy to know…
"…and so, I want each of you to come and get a phial from my desk. You are to create an antidote to that poison or potion by the end of class. I got different poisons and potions that you most likely have not dealt with before. By the way, presenting a Bezoar does not count.—" Several groaned. "—Don't forget your protective gloves. Good luck!"
After classes, I went back to the Potions classroom. I wanted to talk with Esme about something, mainly because I hadn't gotten much of a chance to speak with her lately, with homework and lessons and then, of course, Dumbledore's lessons.
I was talking with her, catching up, when Professor McGonagall walked in, rubbing her forehead, exasperatedly.
"Oh, hello, Minerva," Esme said, smiling kindly to the aggravated woman.
"Hello, Esme, Bella," She inclined her head, smiling slightly. "Esme, can I get that bottle of Mead from you?"
"Of course." Esme said, but went to a cabinet behind her desk and retrieved a bottle of Oak-Matured Mead, from Madam Rosmerta, I guessed. "I thought you said you confiscated it from a few suspicious acting Slytherins?"
"It isn't like they'll be getting it back," McGonagall sighed, pouring herself a glass of the honey-colored liquid. "Damn poltergeist will be the death of me," she muttered.
"What happened?" I asked, curious as to what made her so angry.
She sighed. "Peeves thought it was entertaining to attack the students in the four Common Rooms with a paintball gun. How he got it, I have no idea…"
There was only one student here who would have one.
"Emmett," I cursed.
Esme and McGonagall raised eyebrows at me.
"Well don't act surprised. We're talking about the guy who was planning to crash the Weasleys' flying car into Snape's office!" I said.
Esme shook her head. "I'll talk to him about that."
McGonagall nodded. "This year is terrible. The Dark Lord at large …all the security updates…the Ministry butting into Hogwarts business…" she paused and added in a whispered, "…Albus being gone so often."
I guessed I wasn't supposed to hear that. Hm. Maybe Ginny, Hermione, and me were right…
Was it just me, I wondered, or did the color of the Mead look…off?
"All of it is giving me a headache. Thank goodness it's Friday. I need this Mead." She muttered, before taking a large sip from the slightly suspicious glass of Mead, and before I could ask about its hue.
Hardly a heartbeat later, I immediately knew something was wrong.
"Professor!" I exclaimed, alarmed.
The Transfiguration Professor collapsed onto the ground. Her green eyes were bulging as she writhed on the floor, choking.
Poison!
The word echoed in my mind, and before I even realized it, I exclaimed, "Esme! A Bezoar!"
Esme shot to a cabinet at vampiric speed and pulled out the wrinkled stone. She threw it at me and, amazingly, I caught it, ignoring the sting from impact, I shoved the shriveled Bezoar into my professor's mouth.
She gave one last shudder, then collapsed, unconscious.
"Bella, get help!" Esme told me. "I'll see to her for now! Go!"
I shot from the office, thankfully not tripping once.
People were rounding the corner of the corridor, among them were—
"Headmaster!" I near shouted. "Madam Pomfrey! Carlisle!" I ran to them as swiftly as physically possible for me.
"What is it? What's wrong?" Dumbledore asked, alarmed.
"Professor McGonagall!" I gasped, almost unable to breath. "Poisoned! Esme's office! Emergency!"
As soon as I said McGonagall and poisoned, Dumbledore shot towards Esme's office, an expression of dread mingled with panic and a great fear.
Not too much later, I was sitting in the Hospital Wing.
Esme was still very…distressed, so I'd told them of what'd occurred.
I'd never seen Dumbledore so…afraid. Nothing I'd ever seen or heard of made Dumbledore afraid…until now.
Carlisle and Madam Pomfrey had said, just a few moments ago, that McGonagall would be fine. She'd just need to stay in the Hospital Wing for a week or two and keep taking essence of rue.
All the professors—Dumbledore, Flitwick, Carlisle, Esme, and Madam Pomfrey—had all praised and thanked me at some point for thinking clearly and reacting swiftly and for the Bezoar.
Ultimately, the Bezoar saved her life, according to Carlisle. She'd have to stay to recover, but she'd live.
Dumbledore was sitting at her bedside, looking worrisome and tired, holding McGonagall's limp hand. It was sweet. Flitwick had gone to alert the other professors. Madam Pomfrey was flitting here and there, doing various things. Carlisle was comforting Esme, who seemed extremely troubled and sad. I could tell seeing that was hard on Esme. She was too much of a gentle soul.
And me? I was sitting near my teacher, but far enough away to allow privacy.
I was mulling over my thoughts. Something didn't sit right in my mind…
Then Esme's words echoed from my memory…
"I thought you said you confiscated it from a few suspicious acting Slytherins..."
I gasped, bolting upright.
The Mead wasn't meant to poison McGonagall…
"It was meant for someone else..." I murmured, my mouth wide open in shock.
"Pardon?" Dumbledore said, looking up. "Did you say something?"
"Yes, I thought of something." I told him. "Esme told noted the mead had been confiscated from a few students. What happened?"
He nodded, grimly. "Two nights ago, she had been on patrol in the corridors, watching for students out of bed. She had been near the entrance to Gryffindor Tower when she saw a few students running away down the halls. They vanished before she could apprehend them. She recalled seeing silver and green on their robes." Slytherins, I thought. Of course. "She found something they'd dropped in their haste. It was a present, wrapped. It was addressed to a certain Gryffindor. Inside was the Mead, she found. She cast a spell to ensure it had no added...ingredients it shouldn't possess, but, even still..."
"The poison must have been immune to methods of magical extraction." I murmured, before asking, "To whom was it addressed?"
He looked to me for a long moment, debating whether or not to tell me. But he didn't reply.
As if Dumbledore speaking was a cue, McGonagall stirred in the hospital bed.
"A-Albus?" her voice was weak, cracked.
"I'm right here, Min. You're okay, love." He comforted her, embracing her gently.
That was the moment in time when a studio audience would go, Awww…
"What…what happened…I was drinking some Mead….and…now…" McGonagall sounded weak. I didn't blame her. I'd be, too, if I'd been poisoned.
"Apparently the Mead was poisoned, my dear. Luckily, Bella, here, was in the office and got a Bezoar just in time." He smiled to her, but added when he looked to me, "That was good thinking, Bella. Thank you."
My face was pink, but I nodded. "It was no problem. Esme had just taught us about them today, too, so I can't take all the credit…"
"Never the less," McGonagall replied quietly, "I owe you my life. Thank you."
"Erm…no problem." I replied awkwardly. I paused then hesitantly asked, "Are you two…um, well…Are you two…" I didn't know how to phrase it.
The two professors chuckled. Dumbledore replied, "Yes. We are married."
"Oh." I said. Hey, wait a moment… "Ron and Harry owe me five Galleons." I muttered.
They looked at me strangely. "We kinda had a bet…" I said, my face beet red.
Oddly, they laughed.
"I told you that the students take bets on us," McGonagall told her husband quietly, "Just as we bet on them."
"You bet on us?" I asked.
Dumbledore smiled and replied, "It's a tradition, of sorts. Who wins the House Cup. Who wins the Quidditch season. Who gets the highest marks. Who passes or fails the O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. Who end up together. Things like that."
"Really? I didn't think being a professor was that boring. Anyways, we just bet on things like, well, if you two were married…and the Weasley twins had created a betting pool on the fate of the D.A.D.A. professors each year…that's a tradition now." I smiled.
McGonagall looked at me disbelievingly, but then she muttered, "Those Weasley twins…"
I smiled, then a thought struck me. "Ah, man!" I exclaimed. "I can't get those Galleons after all!"
The two professors looked utterly bewildered.
"I'm not allowed to tell anyone, am I?"
"I suppose it couldn't hurt if Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and the Cullens. They can keep secrets." Dumbledore said.
"Cool," I said to myself. "So I do get five Galleons."
They looked at me strangely again.
"And gloating rights." I added quietly.
Then most of the staff entered the Hospital Wing, going to McGonagall's bedside, Carlisle and Esme joining them. I tuned them all out, but I couldn't help but listen when I heard my name.
"Quick thinking on Bella's part," Flitwick remarked, "Using a bezoar....You must be very proud of your student, Esme."
"Hm? Oh, yes," Esme murmured, "Very proud..."
"I think we agree," McGonagall spoke up, sounding stronger now, "Swan's actions were heroic, but the question is, why were they necessary?"
"You mentioned you'd confiscated a bottle of Mead not too long ago," Snape said, examining the bottle of poisoned Mead, "Are we to assume this is the same bottle?"
"It is," the Transfiguration professor replied. "I had cast a charm to detect and remove any added ingredients that should not have been present, but the poison must have been immune to methods of magical extraction."
"Who did you confiscate it from?" Flitwick asked, "And who were they going to give it to...it looks like a gift with that ribbon."
"The students fled before I could stop them," she replied, "But I am certain I saw green and silver on their robes."
"Who was it for?" asked the Muggle Studies teacher, Charity Burbage, asked.
McGonagall sighed and looked at me as she answered. "Bella Swan."
Several gasps echoed through the infirmiry, but were swiftly hushed.
The Death Eaters were still apparently making an effort, then...
As if last years' efforts weren't bad enough. Now they were hurting others.
I stood. "I'll be going now, Professors. I'm going to go to the Common Room. I hope you feel better, Professor McGonagall!" I called over my shoulder. Just before I exited from the door, I turned and asked, "Should the rest of Gryffindor know why we'll not be having Transfiguration lessons for a week?"
The Headmaster and his wife smiled at my wording, but McGonagall replied, "Go ahead. They'll find out eventually. Tell them I am okay, though."
"Can do!" I said, smiling to my two favorite professors and the rest before bolting to the Common Room.
"Abstinence." I said when I got to the portrait.
"Wait!" the Fat Lady exclaimed before I disappeared into the Common Room. "What is going on around here?" she asked me.
"Well…" I hesitated but briefly explained what'd happened to McGonagall.
"Goodness!" she exclaimed, but she let me through to the Common Room.
I walked past the alarmed portrait into the Common Room, and let out a little yip of surprise when I walked in to see nearly every Gryffindor in the Common Room, watching the door vigilantly. Apparently waiting for me…Creepy.
