1993 to 1994
"And that is why the Ministry has decided to station Dementors at every entrance to the grounds."
"And there was nothing you could have done, Albus?"
"I'm afraid not. I have already refused them entrance to the castle, Minerva. The Ministry would not allow me any more concessions than that. They were rather insistent on having the Dementors here, sure they would capture Sirius Black that way." The headmaster looked at Manea. "I trust that you will prepare the students for the worst case?"
"Of course. Although I'm not sure how much it will be worth, in the end. It's not like I can teach any of them the only spell known to protect against a Dementor."
It did not surprise Manea that Severus was the only one who heard the mocking undertone she had so carefully kept out of her perfectly bland reply. How disappointing.
The old man had the nerve to give her an understanding smile. "The Patronus charm is a very advanced spell, after all."
Manea laughed. "Oh, I'm sure it is. I never tried casting it." She tipped her hat in his direction. "I doubt a dead person would be able to cast it, no matter how powerful they are."
The smile dropped from the old man's face faster than Harry Potter would fall from his broomstick at the next Quidditch match if the events unfolded as they had originally. (Manea didn't plan on interfering. Knowing the 'future' was rather useful. No need to change it too drastically.) Dumbledore still suspected her of dabbling in the Dark Arts. As if magic was ever that simple, made of only black and white and the occasional shades of grey whenever it suited him.
"Would the Dementors be able to permanently harm you?" Poppy asked, medical curiosity evidently overtaking her sense of propriety.
Soon, Manea thought, Poppy would get over her reluctance entirely and start badgering her about her 'condition'.
She grinned. "Only one way to find out. I think someone ought to supervise the Hogwarts Train this year, just in case. Why don't I volunteer?"
†
Penelope knew it was rude to stare, but she couldn't help herself and she was not the only one. Most of the older students were staring, too. As if they were seeing a ghost. (Ha!)
She had already heard the rumours that Professor Killgrave had been seen on the train, fending off a Dementor, almost dying in the process (although some whispered that Professor Killgrave really had died, but that was impossible) – yet seeing their Defence Professor sitting at the Head Table as if this were an ordinary day …
Penelope had seen no less than five teachers leave the Defence position during her time at Hogwarts and she had heard stories about all the ones who had come and gone before that.
There was no announcement about the Defence position this year. Only a stern warning about the Dementors roaming the grounds and a change in the Care of Magical Creatures position. It seemed Professor Killgrave truly was here to stay.
Penelope frowned. There should be an announcement about that. It was no secret that the Defence Against the Dark Arts position was jinxed. If the Jinx had finally been broken, surely a celebration or at least some congratulations were in order?
But there was nothing of the sort and Penelope was left to wonder.
Well, she thought to herself, at least their education would finally take a turn for the better. She did look forward to continuing the lessons Professor Killgrave had started with them the year before. And if she was truly here to stay, then Penelope's NEWTs would face no hurdles at all.
She nodded to herself. Yes, this was excellent, indeed.
†
Justin was glad that Professor Killgrave had stayed to teach for another year. He truly was. It was just …
He watched as Granger raised her hand shortly after their teacher had begun the first lesson of the year. "Will we learn about magical creatures this year, then?"
Professor Killgrave always encouraged questions. Justin liked that.
"In part," she replied. "We will also continue your duelling lessons. I don't want you to forget any of the spellwork you learned last year. Every witch and wizard and otherwise should at least have the basic spells for defence ingrained in their minds, have the reflexes to dodge and put up an appropriate shield be second nature. You never know when an accidental, stray spell may come your way. Magic is unpredictable like that.
"As for the creatures we will cover this year," Professor Killgrave continued. "I have selected those you are likely to encounter in your life that pose a mild to somewhat serious threat to your well-being. Harmless creatures are for Professor Hagrid to teach you about and the more dangerous and less common ones will be covered in your NEWT-level years, should you decide to continue this class when the time comes. Now, I want you to write down what you think your biggest fear is and think of a way on how to turn it into something ridiculous, something that would make you laugh. Does anyone have an idea what creature we are preparing to face next week?"
Justin watched Granger's hand shoot in the air once more. Professor Killgrave ignored her, watching the class patiently. Justin was used to these patient looks by now. They still made him feel bad sometimes. He knew that Anthony's class never received them. But Anthony's class was full of clever and ambitious people. Justin's class only had Hermione Granger. But that was unfair. He knew his housemates were doing their best.
He just couldn't help thinking that way whenever Professor Killgrave asked a question no one but Granger knew the answer to and then continued to wait patiently until someone raised their hand and offered a suggestion of what they thought might be a possible answer – another Gryffindor more often than not, though their teacher didn't always call on them, choosing to wait for a Hufflepuff to find the courage to raise their hand now and again.
He sighed.
"Mr Finch-Fletchley."
"Something that will make us face our biggest fear?"
It was a stupidly obvious answer and everyone knew it.
"Correct. One point to Hufflepuff."
Ernie beamed at him, but Justin could only muster up a weak smile in return.
"Anyone else? Miss Patil."
"A creature that doesn't like being laughed at."
Professor Killgrave nodded and awarded Gryffindor a point. It was only ever single points with answers like this. They always made Justin feel guilty for some reason.
Even Granger only received a single point, when she was finally allowed to reveal the answer. It didn't make Justin feel any better.
†
Hestia had always been a light sleeper. It was the reason she did not share a room with her twin sister, even though she loved Flora very much.
Hogwarts was not accommodating to light sleepers, but if you knew where to look for the right spells and got used to keeping your curtains closed at night, hoping not to develop a sudden case of claustrophobia, you learned to get by somehow.
Being forced to sleep in the Great Hall with all the other students was not at all something a light sleeper could manage. For one, the sleeping bags were rather uncomfortable. For another, even with everyone staying silent and falling asleep, it was way too loud. Hestia doubted the teachers would allow the use of magic, even if it was for a silencing spell. People were whispering, people we moving, their clothes rustling, people were way too close and people were breathing.
Which was why Hestia found herself lying wide awake past midnight, feeling annoyed and frustrated and also very, very tired.
It just didn't make any sense for them to even be here in the first place!
If Sirius Black had broken into the castle and the teachers needed to conduct a thorough search, why could they not have simply left the students in their dormitories? Why did they have to bring everyone to the Great Hall? Sirius Black had most likely already fled before his break-in had been discovered and if not, then he had surely used the chaos of all the students being brought to the Great Hall as cover. It would have bought him more than enough time.
And it wasn't like Black was after any of the Slytherins – or the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. Whether the rumours were true that Black was after Harry Potter's life or not, he had attacked the portrait guarding the Gryffindor Tower.
Hestia heard the door to the Great Hall open and glanced over to see Headmaster Dumbledore enter. She looked at the clock and internally groaned. It was three o'clock in the morning.
The headmaster first went to speak with the Weasley Head Boy and then came over to where Professor Killgrave was reading a book not far from Hestia's sleeping bag.
"All is well?" Headmaster Dumbledore whispered.
Professor Killgrave didn't even look up from her book. "As it has been ever since the students were brought here, because why wouldn't it be?"
Headmaster Dumbledore sighed, but before he could speak, Professor Killgrave closed her book with a gentle thump and continued, "I told you there was no use in this. He had already fled. And if he hadn't, there were enough opportunities, several of which you provided him with. Besides, the castle is big enough for anyone with an ounce of intelligence to hide for however long they need to hide."
Headmaster Dumbledore heaved another sigh. "Yes, you made your opinion very clear earlier when I asked you to help us search the castle."
"Someone had to stay behind and watch over the students."
"Our Head Boy and Head Girl and the prefects are more than capable."
"They need to sleep, too Albus. Even if Mr Weasley refuses to rest. And they're still children, themselves. How do you expect them to protect themselves against a convicted, insane mass murderer? If you had left them in their dormitories, this wouldn't have been an issue."
"We needed less guards standing outside the Great Hall compared to all four dormitories."
"There are three teachers out there and I am right here. One teacher waiting in each common room would have sufficed and amounted to the same number. As the Fat Lady has proven, the dormitories are not as easily entered. If Black had wanted to attack, he would have an easier time to ambush us here."
"But he hasn't done so."
"Because he likely never intended to, in the first place."
There was a pause.
"Yes," Headmaster Dumbledore said eventually. "You are probably right. Ah, I see that Severus wishes to speak with me. Have a pleasant night reading, Manea."
Professor Killgrave did not reply, watching him leave with narrowed eyes.
Hestia wasn't sure she heard her correctly, but it sounded like Professor Killgrave muttered, "You won't make as much of a fuss when he actually breaks in, you hypocrite," under her breath.
Then she turned to look directly at Hestia. "Do you need me to put up some silencing spells for you, Miss Carrow? Or would you like a sleeping draught instead? I have been waiting for you to ask for help, but perhaps you simply do not feel safe enough to go to sleep surrounded by so many strangers."
Hestia blinked at her owlishly, feeling as if she had been caught doing something naughty.
†
Sue stared at the offered hand.
"It's only chocolate, dear. It won't bite. It's not even poisoned."
Sue raised her eyes to stare at Professor Killgrave instead. "That's not reassuring at all, Professor," she managed to say. Somehow. It even sounded steady to her ears.
Professor Killgrave smiled. It was not a nice smile. Her smiles never were. "Perhaps you ought to learn some detection spells for poisons and curses and the like, then. You could practice with this chocolate, if you like, but I'm afraid it won't give you any positive results." She tilted her head. "Not that it would be a bad thing, in this case."
Sue took the chocolate.
Professor Killgrave's smile widened just a little bit and then she nodded and turned around to leave. Sue looked between her retreating back and the chocolate. It was still wrapped.
When she finally bit into it, the chill she had felt since her run-in with the Dementor and almost forgotten about left her body and the heavy, drowning feeling she had also almost forgotten about subsided. Still, it left her feeling oddly bereft. Of what, she didn't know.
If there had been anything wrong with the chocolate, Sue never found out.
†
"Professor?"
"Yes, Mr Potter?"
"I, er – Were you – Were you at the match?"
Professor Killgrave looked at Harry with her piercing gaze. Her eyes, Harry noticed, were the exact same shade as the green light he kept seeing in his dreams.
"I'm afraid not."
"Oh. Er – Did you – Did you hear about the Dementors?"
"Of course. I imagine the whole school knows." Professor Killgrave paused, giving Harry a contemplative once-over. "If you are wondering why you fainted when no one else did – I assume it is because you hold much more horrors in your memories than most others do. The close proximity made it worse, obviously. I'm sure there are several other students who would have had the same adverse reaction as you did, had they come in close contact with a Dementor – if not worse. Perhaps you ought to look them up in the library, if you're so curious. I can recommend you a few books. They will be part of the NEWT-level curriculum."
"Is there any way to protect myself against them? Chase them away like you did on the train?"
"There is only one known spell that is effective against a Dementor, but I'm afraid I cannot teach it to you. What I did to the Dementor on the train is also not something you could replicate. Perhaps look up the books I recommend first and then go to Professors McGonagall or Flitwick for help. They can cast the spell as far as I know. Here."
She handed him a list Harry hadn't even seen her write. On it was a list of book titles he assumed would give him further information about the Dementors. Right. Time to find Hermione, then.
He looked up at his teacher, trying not to avoid her eyes.
"Thank you, Professor."
She did not smile. Harry was thankful for that.
"You are welcome, Mr Potter."
He was almost out of the door, when she called him back.
"Your broom should be returned to you by the end of the week. I have taken it upon myself to check it over and couldn't find anything wrong with it, but Professor McGonagall wanted to be absolutely sure."
For the first time that day, a sincere smile bloomed on Harry's face.
†
Breaking into the office was far easier than Cormac had imagined. At this rate, the penalty for losing that stupid dare would be a piece of cake and turn out to be not so bad, after all.
He honestly had not expected it to be so easy. He had also not expected to office to be so ... bare. There was barely anything in it at all! How was he supposed to get proof that he had managed to break in, then?
The desk was empty. The drawers underneath refused to open no matter which spells he tried. The books on the shelves bore strange titles, but weren't personal enough.
Cormac raised his wand higher and slowly turned. There! On the low table, next to the decorative tea set, sat a large bird's skull not unlike the one Professor Killgrave wore on her hat. Cormac nodded to himself. That would do nicely.
He reached out to grab it and then nearly jumped out of his skin when the skull turned to face him.
Cormac stared at it, frozen, not even daring to breathe. The skull's empty sockets seemed to look back at him with an unimpressed gaze.
For a while, nothing happened.
Tentatively, Cormac reached out again. The skull opened its beak and chattered at him.
Cormac ran.
†
"Oh, for Merlin's sake! That stupid tree couldn't have hit any harder, could it?"
Hermione stared in alarm at the dishevelled figure of their Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor coming through the door, angrily brushing off twigs and leaves and waving her hand to let the bloodstains disappear, muttering under her breath how she 'would have murdered the cursed thing when she first laid her eyes on it, if it wouldn't make Pomona sad'.
"Ah." Professor Killgrave swept her gaze over the room. "There you all are."
Hermione was still staring at the place where there had been a massive bloodstain on Professor Killgrave's chest mere moments before. She could have sworn, she had seen a dark, gaping hole behind the tattered robes, but there was only unblemished skin there, now, and it was soon covered once more by a magically cleaned and repaired robe.
Her mind only caught up to the conversation happening right then.
"I was watching the hippogriff's execution," Professor Killgrave was saying in reply to a question Ron had asked, "or I was going to, anyway." She gestured at Harry and Hermione. "I saw the two of you disappear beneath that cursed tree on my way back to the castle and thought it might be better to follow you and make sure everything was alright."
"What took you so long?" Harry asked.
Professor Killgrave shrugged nonchalantly. "The damn tree, of course."
That did make sense, Hermione thought. But for some reason, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it – that Professor Killgrave was intentionally keeping something from them. Hermione's eyes kept involuntarily returning to the spot on her teacher's chest where the bloodstain had been. It didn't help that Professor Killgrave gave her a knowing smile when their eyes next met.
(Hermione shivered when she saw that smile.)
Professor Killgrave turned to where Black was slumped against the wall, then, and Hermione almost gasped when she realised they had forgotten all about Black.
"You don't feel like a mass murderer," Professor Killgrave observed calmly.
Black licked his lips. "Because I'm not?"
Professor Killgrave nodded, as if that made perfect sense. "Who did it, then?"
"Peter," Black rasped. "Peter Pettigrew."
"He's lying!" Harry exclaimed. "Peter Pettigrew is dead! He killed him twelve years ago!"
The next few minutes were a bit of a blur for Hermione as Harry and Black argued back and forth – at some point, Black lunged at Harry – no, at Ron – no, at Scabbers – and Professor Killgrave watched it all calmly, only stepping in to grab the fleeing rat by the tail, which made the poor thing screech and writhe and convulse in pain. (The rational part of Hermione's mind told her that grabbing a rat by its tail hurt, but shouldn't hurt enough to warrant such an extreme reaction. The major part of Hermione's mind was too busy being in shock to pay any attention to the rational part.)
There was yelling and more grappling and rolling around on the floor and more yelling as Hermione stood there, frozen, and Professor Killgrave watched, calmly amused. And then, eventually, finally, Black explained the full story and, suddenly, everything made sense and then Scabbers was turned into Peter Pettigrew and there was more talking and begging and shouting and the next moment, Hermione found herself walking next to Professor Killgrave through the tunnel that would bring them back to the Whomping Willow.
"Professor?" Hermione asked.
"Yes, Miss Granger?"
"How did you know that Scabbers was an Animagus?"
Professor Killgrave smiled, making Hermione shiver. "I simply did. Perhaps you will figure it out one day. You are a smart witch, after all."
The peace didn't last long. It shattered the moment they came out of the tunnel and found themselves face to face with hundreds of Dementors.
Professor Killgrave took one look at them and then pinched the bridge of her nose. "Oh, for fucks sake."
Hermione silently agreed.
†
"Well, that went about as well as expected."
"You let Sirius Black escape on a mad Hippogriff that was meant to be executed."
"The Hippogriff wasn't mad, Severus. Do get your facts straight, dear."
"That is what you are focussing on?"
"Oh, come now. I've only just come back from the dead. Give me some leniency. Besides, it's not Sirius Black you should be worried about, it's Peter Pettigrew. The damn rat also managed to escape."
"Peter Pettigrew is dead. What? Next, you are going to tell me he was the one who betrayed the Potters. Oh, no. Oh, no. Don't you give me that look!"
Manea turned her head to the side, smirk still in place. "Then I suppose I simply won't look at you."
"I am going to get Albus to fire you! Believe me, I will!"
"Aww, but I want to see what the Jinx comes up with next. It managed to kill me no less than three times this year! Although two of those don't really count, because Dementors only suck out your soul and don't, technically, leave you dead."
In response, Severus threw his hands in the air and stormed out of the Hospital Wing.