Chapter 38 Bearer of bad news
She felt a pressure, a drawing pull from her neck. She tried to reach up, straining against the weight that held her down and the blackness all around her. She felt as though she were pressed up against something hard and unyielding, suffocating her, but then realized it was just her own body, turning to stone.
'More. I need more.'
'Oh, it's just you again, Malos.'
'Give me more.'
'You have everything, what more do you want?'
Malos hissed at her, dissatisfied.
She awoke, with a bitter taste in her mouth. "Oh man," Senna coughed, "Is it me or is this stuff getting worse?"
Her vision came back in spots. When it fully returned, she saw Madam Pomfrey and Severus Snape standing over her.
"Wonderful Severus, that did the trick." Madam Pomfrey said in a relieved tone, though her eyebrows were still pinched into a very worried expression.
"That's because it is." Professor Snape said dryly. "I've had to change the recipe, the old potion was no longer working."
"What?" Senna's voice was raspy, as if she had been sleeping for a long time.
"Yes, dear, Professor Snape here has been working tirelessly over the last few nights to get a new potion for you. It seems that the Invigoration Draught is no longer strong enough."
Snape's eyes narrowed infinitesimally as Madam Pomfrey had let that information slip—Senna had a feeling Snape didn't want her to know that he'd been 'working tirelessly' for her sake.
Upon further inspection, Senna noticed he had purplish shadows under his eyes, and his hair seemed greasier than usual.
"How long have I been asleep?" Senna panicked.
"A few days," Pomfrey said sternly. "I'm afraid you pushed yourself too much in the task."
"Yeah… but. I won." Senna tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness engulfed her.
"The curse had spread." Snape's voice was cold. "You need to rest or it will get worse."
"What do you mean?"
Snape handed her a mirror.
Senna took the hand mirror and focused on her neck. She gasped. The braided mark grew black veins, like roots of a tree spreading across her neck. The mark now intruded onto her jaw and collarbone.
"At least it's scarf weather." Senna mumbled.
This seemed to anger Snape. A vein pulsed maddly behind his temple. "You are not taking this seriously, Senna, the next time you push yourself too hard, this curse will kill you."
Senna rolled her eyes. "That would make the wizarding world so happy. Maybe they'll even make it into a holiday." Senna said.
For the first time since they met, she watched Snape's features contort into a look of rage. She had never made him this angry. His nostrils flared outwards, and his voice was two notches louder, "Don't you dare be so selfish," Snape roared, catching Senna off guard, "There are people doing their best to keep you safe, and you're throwing away their efforts!"
"I can see that," Senna spat back.
The rage Senna had been suppressing leaked out of her. It met Snape's anger like a challenge.
Madam Pomfrey backed up, looking very uncomfortable. "Oh.. um… Severus—"
But Snape cut her off. "No, you don't. How can you expect me to help you, if you don't help yourself?"
"Severus, we have—" Madam Pomfrey tried to say, but she was drowned out by their argument.
"I do! You're trying to keep me away from Struan, my Headmaster is trying to keep me away from the Aurors," Senna swung her legs over the bed. "What am I supposed to do?"
"You need to do as you're told. Believe it or not, there are competent adults on this matter."
"I can't trust them."
"It doesn't matter. Let us handle this."
"Sev—" Pomfrey tried again.
"I'm sick and tired of spending my life being hunted and prosecuted for something that is beyond my control! I'm not going to stand by and do nothing."
When senna stood, it felt like her head would explode, but she ignored it. Senna forced her lead legs to move, and threw the curtains violently aside—and then came face to face with a flustered Julien Roberts, a calm Albus Dumbledore, Nymphadora Tonks, and a pale and scarred man she had never seen before.
"We have guests." Madam Pomfrey finally finished in a small voice.
There was a moment of tense silence, as the ward's occupants made eye contact with each other.
"Ah… age is a foolish thing, and forgetful when it underestimates youth." Albus Dumbledore broke the silence.
Senna stared at him, uncomprehending.
Then, the pale man with a cane stepped—no, limped—forward. "Ms. Snape, a pleasure to meet you, I am Rufus Scrimgeour." He nodded once at her, but did not offer a hand to shake.
Senna squinted at him through her pounding headache. This was the man Struan mentioned, the Head of the Auror's office, and Tonks' boss.
Senna threw a glance at Tonks. She was looking at the ground, and looked rather stressed. Her eyes had shadows underneath them, and her face seemed even thinner than before.
"Do you need something?" Senna almost hissed the words at Scrimgeour.
That's when Tonks looked up to glare at her—for being so rude to a highly regarded ministry official. But Senna ignored her.
"Whatever it is, make it quick." Madam Pomfrey interjected in a sharp voice. "This girl needs rest."
Scrimgeour spoke after a courteous nod towards Madam Pomfrey. "Yes, indeed, your Headmaster has given me permission to speak to you—"
"No, I did not!" Roberts voice suddenly boomed. His face was red with anger as he faced Scrimgeour. It was obvious he was still very angry and probably blamed the ministry for Senna's state. "You said you needed to speak to Severus Snape."
"That is her name, is it not?"
"No, Senna Severus Snape." Roberts stood in front of her, shielding her with his large body. Senna's head was still too fuzzy to comprehend all this drama. "And, as I've said before, you are not to involve any of my students in matters of British conflict and politics."
"She is a British citizen by birth, so I'm afraid these matters do concern her."
Roberts opened his mouth to spew something back, but Dumbledore had started speaking.
"But she is underage, and her legal guardianship belongs to the Head Nun at her primary residence, the Clearcil Orphanage." Dumbledore added in a calm and authoritative voice, "But in lieu of her dependency, since she is not in her place of residence, that guardianship belongs to our dear friend Julien. So I please ask of you, Rufus, to go through Julien on these matters."
Scrimgeour's eyes narrowed. He was not pleased, but he would not dare argue with Dumbledore on his campus. "Very well, Albus." He paused, then his eyes locked onto Roberts' with frightening intensity. "There were Death Eaters, at the tournament, and we've been investigating this for days. Would you happen to know anything about this?"
"What?" Madam Pomfrey squeaked, "That's impossible—we have had security guards who—"
"Who were unconscious, and one was dead, at the gate." Scrimgeour said coldly.
Madam Pomfrey gasped.
"No, my student doesn't know anything about that, she has nothing to do with it!" Roberts said defensively.
Senna sighed. She was too tired to lie, or play into their political games. "Struan said he'd be watching me." Senna told him.
Her Headmaster spun around, glaring at her with a look of dismay on his face. She didn't mean to betray him after he stood in her defense. But it was the truth, and it needed to be known.
"Maybe he sent someone to watch the game, to watch me, in his place. Or maybe it was Struan himself, disguised as someone else." Senna started rambling.
"Did he mention what his goal with this was?" Scrimgeour peered around Roberts, directly looking at her.
"Not specifically. He wanted to use this curse to teach me a lesson, and expects me to come crawling back. Maybe he came to see how well that was going. He'll be disappointed to know that I have not learned anything from him, and I have no intention of groveling to him for my power back." The last few words were slurred ungraciously. Senna was starting to feel light headed. She hadn't even been awake for very long, yet she was so exhausted, she thought she would collapse right there.
"Hmm." Scrimgeour pondered, he took a small glass orb from his pocket, which was glowing a pale green color. Senna clenched her teeth in irritation.
"Perhaps… but..." Scrimgeour went on.
"But what?" Roberts said through clenched teeth.
"But what of your power? This curse doesn't just take your magic, from what Severus has mentioned a few minutes ago, this curse may kill you. And Struan is the only one who has the cure."
"Yeah, so what?" Senna mumbled, swaying where she stood.
"We have the best healers and curse breakers researching this as we speak. My champion is in good hands."
"I see." Scrimgeour said in a cool voice.
Scrimgeour added something else, in which Roberts gave a sharp retort, but Senna's hearing had turned into static. Roberts was too busy bickering with Scrimgeour to notice Senna starting to lose consciousness, and so she fell.
She was out before she hit the floor.
'More. Give me more.' The hissing voice of Malos filled her head.
Malos' teeth clamped down harder on her neck. She wanted to pull it off her, but she couldn't move, as she was made of stone.
'Ugh! I am so sick of you!' Senna screamed at it in Parseltongue.
'More…'
'Congrats, you've won. You have all of it. I can't even stay conscious for more than an hour.'
'I need more…'
'So what happens when I die?
Malos' hissing grew silent.
'Do you die with me, or do you go back to the void between dimensions?'
Malos didn't answer her question, but she could tell he was bothered by it. It was not often she could break his constant begging for power.
'Well… whichever it is, it's going to be soon.' Senna continued. 'Didn't you hear them? You're draining so much from me, I'm going to die. I hope you like dark places, because either way, that's all you're going know after I die.'
Senna woke up in the infirmary and looked around. She was alone. Her mouth was dry, and there wasn't a bitter taste. That is when she realized she was awake—and it wasn't because someone had shoved a vial of potion down her throat.
Senna quickly grabbed the mirror, observing her neck. The mark was still there, large, ugly, and black. But the black veins had subsided. When she put the mirror down, she noticed another card on the table. It was from Hannah, wishing her to feel better soon. Her heart tugged in an uncomfortable way.
But the more pressing matter came to mind. Could it be… that Malos backed off because he was afraid of death?
Senna smiled at the small triumph.
Excitedly, she snapped her fingers, in an attempt to do a simple light spell wandlessly—but nothing happened.
"Damnit." Senna muttered to herself. So it seemed like Malos didn't back off that much.
Her noise seemed to have summoned Madam Pomfrey to her bedside. She seemed surprised that she was awake without the help of a potion. Though Senna seemed much better, she made Senna stay in the hospital wing for the rest of that day.
And Senna was much better, though her limbs still felt heavy. When she moved her eyes across the room, she felt as though there was a delay in her vision.
Headmaster Roberts had paid her a visit. He did not seem at all surprised that she was awake and in better shape. Senna got the feeling that her Headmaster did not notice a difference because he never paid close attention to her state at all, not like Snape and Pomfrey did.
Professor Snape came by later that day. He was also surprised to see her awake. He set down a crate of vials, shining with sparkly orange liquid, and leaned over her.
"Good afternoon." Senna told him awkwardly, feeling guilty about their squabble the previous night.
"Afternoon." He said cooly, and then his eyes locked on her neck. "So it seems the curse is back to its original state, that is curious."
"Actually, better than that, I woke up on my own this morning," Senna shifted her stoney legs miserably, and turned her head to the potions, "But I could really use one of those right now."
Senna made eye contact with him as he handed her one of the vials. His eyes were cold, no hint of emotion. She couldn't tell if he was still angry at her.
"Thank you." She told him. "For everything that you're doing."
Snape nodded at her, but did not say anything else. He left soon after that.
Viola appeared that evening, her eyes bloodshot and red hair was messier than usual.
"Well, you look—" Viola's bloodshot eyes were wide.
"Stunning? Amazing? Positively badass?" Senna helped.
An unwilling smile tugged at the corners of her lips. And then she rolled her eyes. "Better." Viola finished.
Senna took in Viola's red eyes, and crinkled robes. It was very unlike her to seem undone. "I wish I could say the same for you. But you seem to be having a difficult week."
Viola's cheeks turned a shade of pink. "Shut up." She said defensively, then she threw a heavy bag onto her bedside table, which wiggled precariously under its weight.
"What is this?"
"Notes." Viola said, her eyes on the floor. "I took notes for you in the classes we have together. As for sixth-year charms, herbology, and transfiguration, I took those last year, and I am taking the seventh-year NEWT levels this year, so I brought those notes too." Viola's cheeks were still red. "I figured you didn't want to get too far behind."
Senna eyed the bag of books and paper. "Wow, I don't know whether to be indebted or creeped out that you know my entire schedule." Senna paused. "Thank you."
"Whatever." Viola mumbled, clearly embarrassed. "I can't be seen dating someone who gets failing grades."
"Uh-huh, sure." Senna said, seeing through her mean-girl attitude.
But several questions brewed in Senna's mind. At this point, she realized she didn't know much about Viola at all.
"If you're already on seventh-year classes, do you have anything left to take next year?" Senna asked her.
"I can graduate early if I want. But there are classes I can take if I stay."
"What are you going to do?" Senna asked, curious.
"Not sure yet. It would be nice to get out of this school full of bloody idiots though."
"What are you going to do when you get out?"
"I don't know, maybe something with the ministry, like an Unspeakable, but they only take the most brilliant and committed of wizards."
"What on earth is an unspeakable?"
Viola and Senna talked the rest of that evening. Though Viola hadn't given up the mean-girl attitude, it was still a rather nice night for Senna. Viola stayed until Madam Pomfrey kicked her out for the night.
Senna had spent so much time in isolation, that it was a relief to return to the bustling halls, so much so, that she even decided to attend the one class on her schedule that didn't require magic—History of Magic with Professor Binns. But she soon regretted it as the flat drone-like voice had her nodding off within minutes.
As Senna passed through the halls, the other students steered clear of her. That had not changed. But this time, some of the fear-mixed faces stared at her with looks of awe.
Senna paid no mind to it.
Senna debated going to Herbology later, just to observe. They didn't alway use magic in Herbology, sometimes just shovels and pots, or they spent the entire period watching Professor Sprout gush endlessly over her precious plants. But that would mean coming face to face with Hannah and the other Hufflepuffs.
Senna walked over to the Syltherin table during lunch, ignoring the people who paused to stare at her on her way.
"Had fun in History of Magic?" Viola turned away from Zubieda to look at Senna.
"How did you know where I was?" Senna asked.
"I have my sources." Viola said mysteriously.
"Well, now I know what you should be when you leave Hogwarts," Senna told her, "A professional stalker."
Viola's eyes narrowed into unkind glare.
A thin and short man with mousey grey hair waltzed into the Great Hall. It was so noisy and chaotic with students getting on and off the benches, that the staff table didn't notice him until he was standing right in front of them.
"To what do I owe this pleasure?" Dumbledore asked the man who entered the Great Hall.
"Andre Pickleson, from the department of muggle relations, I'm here for Senna Severus Snape." He announced.
Senna looked up at the sound of her name and turned to face the staff table. Both her headmaster and Dumbledore were standing. Headmaster Roberts motioned for her to come to the staff table.
Viola raised a questioning brow at her, but Senna shrugged. Department of muggle relations? She had no idea what this was about. Unless they were planning on dumping her back into the muggle world, she was a muggle now after all.
Senna stepped out of the Slytherin table and approached the scrawny man.
"Ah, Miss Snape," Senna flinched at the sound of her last name. His voice was high pitched and annoying. "Your brother is here to see you."
"What?!" Senna exclaimed loudly. But the noisy Great Hall drowned out her shouts.
Struan? Here? At Hogwarts? No, that was impossible, no one in their right mind would let him onto the grounds. He was a criminal, the heir to the dark legacy of he-who-must-not-be-named. Fear squeezed her stomach, and she could taste stomach acid in her mouth.
"He is still getting through security, but he'll be here soon." The man continued, not noticing that Senna was freaking out.
"No! You can't bring him here!" Senna told the squirrely man. But then he blinked at her, confused by her sudden intensity.
The Great Hall suddenly became eerily silent, but Senna paid no attention. If Struan was here, they had an emergency on their hands.
It was like the world stopped moving.
"You can't! He's—" what was she going to say? Evil? Dangerous?
"Too late." A deep voice carried down the hall.
Senna looked at their visitor, a disheveled blonde boy with dirty, matted hair. He was scarred and nearly wearing rags—a thin and fraying gray tank top and ripped blue jeans that looked older than she was. He wore wheat boots that were scuffed, with torn stickers. The soles were coming apart, and they were caked with dirt.
Senna's eyes widened in recognition. She knew who this boy was… though he was closer to a man now than a boy. This was Clyde, another kid from the Clearcil Orphanage. She remembered him fondly, only because he wasn't one of the 'good kids' that the nuns favored. He was a delinquent—like her. He defied the Catholic institute's authority, always snuck out into town, refusing to accept the starvation the residents were faced with, so he stole a lot. And was punished a lot. Like she was.
But they were never close. They had run into each other during a few heists. But Senna always worked alone, whereas Clyde had a gang of other boys he worked with.
But he was a muggle… What was he doing here? The Great Hall was so noisy from everyone's thoughts, that she could not make out Clyde's.
"Um," The squirrely man squeaked, "This boy said he was your brother, he requested to come to you, he said he needed to speak to you in person regarding an urgent matter."
"Your brother?" Headmaster Roberts questioned.
Senna jumped. The shock of Clyde's presence made her forget that they were surrounded by people.
"Er.. yes, sort of," Senna stammered, "We grew up in the same orphanage, so I supposed he is," Senna winced, "My brother."
The students in the Great Hall reacted unfavorably as Clyde made his way to Senna. They gasped, pointed, and turned to their neighbors to voice their shock about having a muggle here at Hogwarts.
"The rules of the department of muggle relations state that muggles can visit direct wizard relatives in matters of family emergency." Andre stated.
"Of course." Dumbledore agreed.
Clyde stopped when he reached her, standing two feet from her and the perplexed staff table. He gave her no smile, no handshake, no greeting whatsoever. He just took her in with his cold, yet amber colored eyes. And Senna took him in too. He wasn't wearing any sort of jacket, though it must've been very cold outside. His clothes were dirty, arms were muscular and his skin was scarred from many years of self-neglect and delinquency.
"They make it very hard to find you, you know." Clyde said in a deep and gravelly voice.
"I can only imagine." Senna responded. She couldn't even imagine how he found her, all the way from the muggle world in a different country.
"But I figured you deserved to find out in person, rather than by mail or newspaper…" Clyde trailed off.
"What is it?" Senna pressed, ignoring the intrusive stares coming from all around them. "What is the emergency?" Senna worked hard to look into Clyde's mind, but the noise from the shouting thoughts all around them made it difficult. She managed to catch a glimpse of an image of their hometown.
"No emergency. There isn't anything that can be done, not anymore." His face was stoic, but his feet shifted uncomfortably. "It's the orphanage. It's gone." He paused.
"What do you mean, it's gone?" Senna's voice was an octave higher than it was before.
"It's just gone," He repeated in an emotionless voice, "It burned down. There's nothing left."
"It can't be gone." Senna stared at him in disbelief. It couldn't be true. The institution was rather large, made of cement and bricks. But she saw the memory of flame in his mind, it flashed through his thoughts like a slideshow. Fire. Heat. A wall of flame at least sixty feet tall, engulfing the walls of the chapel, the grub hall, dormitories—engulfing everything.
"Well it is." He said matter-of-factly.
The images of the flame from Clydes mind whirred through her own head. And then came the memories of screaming. Whether it was the screaming of children or nuns, she could not tell. A cold feeling spread from her chest to her arms, and down her body, until her whole body felt like it was made of ice.
"T—the orphans, what—" Senna swallowed, "What happened to them?"
Clyde turned away from her then, Senna could still see and hear the memories passing through his mind. "That's all." He spat. "I just thought you should know before you tried to come back, you know, for school breaks."
"What happened to everyone?" Senna asked again, louder this time.
But Clyde continued to ignore her and walked away.
"Hey!" She reached after him, "I asked you a question!"
Senna reached out in desperation and grabbed the back of his shirt, but his shirt was so worn and so thin that the fabric just tore away as he continued to move forward. She stared at the clump of filthy frayed fabric in her hand, and then looked back up as the rest of the fabric fell off his shoulders, onto the floor forming a dirty pile of rags.
Senna just stared. Stared at the pile of rags that now littered the floor. Then she stared at his exposed back, feeling overwhelming misery when she realized his back was just like hers—scarred from being beaten by the nuns.
He also glanced at the pile of rags on the floor, but didn't comment on it. "We tried." His voice sounded quiet and choked. "We tried to get as many out as possible… But the fire spread way too fast. There was no time." He said gravely. The hall was abruptly quiet again, though she doubted anyone could hear what he was saying now, it was barely audible, but the gaveness of it must be visible.
"How many…" Senna swallowed again. "Did you get out on time?"
"Not many." Is all he said. And then he started walking again, shirtless, and his shoulders slumped. The overwhelming sense of misery that washed over her filled her mind until she felt like she was going to drown in it. She hated that place. She hated everyone in it… So why did she feel such anguish?
"Wait!" Senna tried to go after him, but she forgot her legs were made of stone, and she crumpled down the steps.
Someone's strong arms picked her up off the ground. Whoever it was started dragging her out of the Great Hall. She was aware of her body's movement, of the double doors getting closer, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She was covered in a blanket of misery, a blanket so thick she couldn't feel her legs anymore—it was all she could do to breathe. And she didn't even want to do that.
She watched the stone walls as she was carried into the hall. A high pitched and annoying voice sounded very frenzied in the distance. Clyde had already vanished. She watched in her peripheral vision as the squirrely man from the department of muggle relations chased after Clyde.
This scent. The smell of lavender and vanilla, it was oddly familiar. It brought back memories of warmth, pleasure… and betrayal. It was Tonks who picked her up off the floor. That shock was enough to bring her back to reality.
Senna froze, and then yanked herself from Tonks' grip.
"I can walk on my own, thank you." Senna's voice was polite, but cold.
"Senna." Tonks' pleaded. Senna looked at her face, which was thin, and tired. "I'm sorry about your brothers and sisters at the orphanage." She said in a kind voice.
Senna gave a short bark of a laugh. "I'm sure you're just sorry you didn't get to them first. Didn't you know? We're all just a bunch of criminals descended from dark muggles. Ooohh scary." Senna wiggled her fingers at Tonks, trying to be ominous.
A look of hurt crossed her face, as if Senna just slapped her.
Good.
"What?" Tonks gasped.
"What?" Senna mocked her in her brattiest voice.
Tonks' cheeks turned bright red with irritation. "Senna, I'm just trying to—" Tonks paused.
"Turn me in?"
"No!" Tonks stomped her foot. Senna found it very comical.
"Well I don't really care. Thanks for the lift, though." Senna waved once, before heading down the hall.
"Senna!" Tonks called out as Senna walked, her voice furious. But Tonks did not pursue her.
Senna didn't have the mental capacity to handle Tonks right now. She replayed the memories she had seen in Clyde's head. The memory of the wall of fire, moving so fast that hardly anyone could be saved. The flame seemed unnaturally hot, nearly blue in some points, it moved… unnaturally. As if it were a living creature…
And then she knew.
She knew it deep in her heart.
That this was Struan's doing...