Hi All,
Quicker update to make up for my slip last time. I can only apologize, I tried to say sorry with that childish tale for your entertainment. Hopefully it worked. Did it? :)
HP belongs to Rowling!
Please let me know if you like this story!
TN
Chapter 8.
(14)
From 2nd September 1992 to 7th September
Anne's head was spinning. She'd returned to her Common Room only ten minutes after the others had seen her following Professor Snape, using her Time-Turner for the first time as her Head of House instructed. She had been tempted to eavesdrop on herself by his office's door, but that would have been too dangerous. She must not meet herself under any circumstances. So she ran up to her dormitory, told everyone there had been some issue with her schedule Snape wished to discuss, and pulled the curtains around her bed.
Professor Snape had explained that they were to bend the rules to make her time to learn mind magic. He demanded at least one hour of daily meditation following Ephsos' technics and promised other sources to add later to strengthen the defences on her mind. He'd described those as close to non-existent even with Anne's success in holding off his Legilimency and stumbling through her life so far avoiding madness. He had questioned her efficiency even without knowing about the Muggle camp.
There were two different sets of rules for Anne to abide by. One of the Ministry, and one established by her House's Head. Writing them all down in a Muggle notebook, Anne almost chuckled. Which one of those two sets of rules was the more demanding was anybody's guess.
Never talk about the Time-Turner.
Never mention mind magic.
Never engage in any kind of discussion about time, Occlumency, Legilimency, or whatever she sensed as an Empath.
Never miss a day of meditation.
Never miss a meal, but she may take them in the Great Hall or the Infirmary.
These she could understand.
Then there were those rules she couldn't fathom:
Never approach Professor Snape when he is not alone in a warded room (– because he's persecution complex had an arse of its own to lay eggs? - she guessed).
Never look anyone in the eye (– Seriously?)
Never engage in lengthy disputes with Gryffindors. (As if she wished to!)
Never to attempt to make sense of what she'd sensed in Professor Snape's office. (Because that would give instant madness, just like this list?)
And finally, be ready for a short experiment on the third-floor corridor ten minutes before curfew this coming Saturday. (Anne didn't even have thoughts to add to this one.)
The final one that she should sit in the last row in her Defence class and closest to the door was probably some strange Snape joke, so she didn't write it down. Her Professor had said that with a shrug and rolling his eyes, after all, adding that was only what he would have prepared to do.
Anne turned the page in her notebook with a long-suffering sigh.
The first order of business was to figure out when to turn back time and where. Then she should finally brave the section about meditation technics in Ephsos' book, even if they didn't make much sense to her.
The term began with a Tuesday, so she supposed she should attend her double Transfiguration class, turn back time, and go to Ancient Runes with Professor Babbling and Muggle Studies with Professor Burbage before lunch. She drew a timetable.
If she got up at seven and got ready for the day, she would spend nine hours between breakfast and lunch with classes. That was a whole day before lunch, and Professor Snape stressed the importance of having regular meals and rest. But if she went for Transfiguration from her dormitory, turned back, had breakfast, then attended Runes and Muggle Studies, and only then went to lunch with her classmates, she would make time to rest and eat, making the half-day more similar to a regular day at Hogwarts. It was manageable, mainly because the classrooms were on different floors.
Of course, she also should sit in a double class with Binns until 5 pm, turn back time to 1 pm, and attend Divination class with Sybill Trelawney to have a free period for Ephsos before Prep time and dinner. Which would make her day twice as long as usual, without a chance to see Mr. Filch, pop into the Library, or visit her beloved tower.
She also wondered how she was supposed to get her double homework load done in a single prep period with all the noise around, or even at all, after eighteen hours on her feet. And she was supposed to repeat this for a year? Anne remembered her initial struggles with sleepiness in the Astronomy tower and opted for adding nap time, but when and where?
The problem boiled down to mathematics, and she was grateful for Rachel's efforts and insistence upon her learning it. She counted the hours she'd spent awake daily last year, the hours she'd spent between meals, and with her peculiar way of socializing, giving an hour to Mr. Filch, one to Madame Pince, and at least one more for research and additional preparation. She saw no other way around the problem but to insert time for rest, and probably also for Ephsos' meditations because she didn't have a convenient free period every day. Both would make her days longer than reason would suggest or approve.
It was midnight when she was ready with a week's altered schedule in her notebook, and the three other girls' soft noises filled the dorm. She didn't risk reading Ephsos and exhausting herself even before she began, and decided to call it a day. She'd almost fallen asleep when she realized it was already her birthday, and she would turn fourteen in about an hour… she closed her eyes with a smile.
Tuesday didn't begin at seven; she woke about six thirty for an exuberant Hestia swiping her curtains to the side, attacking her senses with glee and anticipation, and gifting her a signed paperback of Travelling with Trolls by Gilderoy Lockhart.
"It's horrible we don't get to see him before Wednesday! He is as cute as on the cover, and everyone will have DADA before us! It's horribly unjust!" – Hestia complained after wishing her a happy birthday. "I told you I would remember this year! Open it!"
Anne read the first inner page: To a very special witchling, with kind wishes, Gilderoy Lockhart. She struggled to smile and focused on her little house in her head to hide from the assaulting emotions. By the time she paged to the third image of the same blond wizard, she felt safe enough to look up.
"Thanks, Hestia. My brothers told me about him. It sounded like he turned Diagon Alley tits-up."
Hestia enthusiastically agreed, and even Flora and Sophie sat on her bed to read Lockhart's words.
"No surprise, he's the favourite of the Witch Weekly. I even have his poster," – the fourth-year girl admitted with a grin. "I have Defence after lunch. I'll tell you what he's like."
"You just want to brag," – Flora told her, but she laughed. "Why don't you put that poster up, or are you too jealous to share?"
They climbed then up on Hestia's nightstand and fixed Gilderoy Lockhart on the wall so Sophie could watch from her pillow as he merrily waved and bowed to the room. Anne laughed at them until her tears poured out and disappeared into the bathroom before anyone could invite her to join them for breakfast.
Last year's success in Transfiguration after discovering her black wand was her only saving grace. Class 34 on the third floor was soon filled with repressed sighs and frustration, and Anne wouldn't have left her hiding spot for a full vault in Gringotts. She only peeked at the world from the windows of her mind's house.
Professor McGonagall laid out the fundaments of a difficult year, with theory on Animagic, transfiguring objects to animals and magical creatures and back, spiked with hardening and softening charms, and conjuring flowers for a break. They began with a teapot to tortoise just to crown the morning. Anne wasn't the only one who could have cried.
Now, the first test of her new life, where to turn back safely? It was tempting to use her side tower, but Anne had already scheduled some hours of rest there before lunch, so she couldn't use it if she didn't want to see herself. Walking down the main stairs, she remembered the dusty passageway with the spooky spider webs that led behind the Library from the Charms classroom and turned back on her heel.
Back on the third floor, she chose the Charms corridor, entered the passageway and turned back time. She waited with bated breath, but the castle was quiet. Anne tiptoed along the passage and arrived at the Library. It was way too tempting to enter, and Madame Pince had just opened, so it must have been seven indeed.
"Already?" – the witch only asked Anne, but she was smiling. "I found your owl thoughtful, Miss Rosier. You look well."
"Thank you, Madame Pince. It's very nice to see you too! May I–" Anne gestured to the desks, and Madame Pince nodded. They'd already established that she wasn't a morning person. Anne dived into her Transfiguration homework, and, only minutes after class, she got it down soon enough.
"Madame Pince, I meant to ask if I may be of any assistance this year. I like it here, and I thought-" – Anne struggled to express her wish to find a new friend, completely forgetting about her impossible workload for the year. Asking Pince to let her assist her was a priority throughout the summer, and the question asked itself without balancing the facts.
"Honestly, I would be glad if someone opened the doors for the morning birds like you, so I could break my fast like other humans do," – Madame Pince admitted. "However, it is not a duty for a third year, Miss Rosier, no matter how dependable."
"Perhaps in the evenings? I could put back the books following the catalogue and talk to you sometimes?"
The strict witch contemplated the offer, but then she nodded. "That would do, Miss Rosier. I'll see you after seven whenever you have the time."
"Thank you, Madame Pince!" – Anne grinned and hurried to have breakfast with the Carrow girls. Now she could even tell them she'd been in the Library after a shower, which made a good excuse for disappearing after they all left the dorm.
Ancient Runes was on the sixth floor, at a safe distance from every other class of the third year's schedule, and Professor Bathsheda Babbling held a thorough and detailed introductory course. She began by explaining the use of Spellman's Syllabary and the Rune Dictionary. She also expanded on the curious names that helped identify a part of a rune and explained the runic alphabet. She seemed patient enough, and asked for shortened notes for homework about everything they'd covered. Anne found her approach manageable, and she enjoyed the logic.
Unlike in Muggle Studies, where she couldn't find any leading thread to get her through the class. Professor Charity Burbage was a joyful witch, ready with a laugh and a hectic approach. She also seemed knowledgeable even if she was yet to mention anything Anne didn't know, but she avoided advertising this. They had a long reading list but moderate homework.
Following the schedule, Anne drew about midnight she retreated to her tower, cleaned it with some practised Scourgify, and turned back three hours to rest. She should store some books here, her guitar, and as much food and juice as she dared to nick from the kitchen. By the time the three hours were gone, she was so hungry she knew she wouldn't sleep if she could. That was one more problem to solve; she needed an alarm to wake her if she fell asleep here!
Lunch was not fun, with all her classmates debating McGonagall's crazy setup for the year. Anne regretted she didn't choose the Infirmary instead. Oops, she forgot about the Infirmary! That was one more place to go for lunch; she could go there for lunch before she retreated to the side tower, have a good rest without dying of hunger, and maybe could play her guitar too, and get ready with some reading… probably that amounted to a five hours turn… before lunch at the Great Hall! Perhaps five hours back to rest, then five hours again to read in the Library – if Madame Pince wouldn't mind seeing her in class time – would she? Then she could act as if her afternoon was a second Tuesday! That would work…. At least, she hoped.
The double History of Magic carried no surprises. Anne only regretted she didn't know Ephsos' meditations already; it would have been an excellent period to practice. As it was, she could only inspect the reading list for the year and add all the items to her schedule. With all the reading for Muggle Studies, she wasn't afraid of running out of recommended books before March.
All her classmates returned to their Common Rooms before dinner, but Anne used the fact that this year's classes were held in Classroom 4F on the first floor and disappeared towards the Library. She walked around it to the passageway, got to the third floor, turned back five hours, and climbed up to the North Tower. It would have been easier to use her favourite pass through the fourth-floor corridor behind the tapestry of Nimue, but she was afraid that others would see if she overused that route.
Professor Trelawney was – a peculiar witch. This was about all the extent Anne let her thoughts run with her, afraid of forming an opinion because she knew she needed this subject for Ephsos' sake. Insecurity, gloating, pride, and minority complex mixed so substantially in the Northern Tower that she couldn't escape its effects if she hid with all her focus on herself.
Which wasn't the way around this class. Because Professor Trelawney coveted the secrets magic could offer and pushed everyone she could to mime her approach. It took an hour before Anne realized it wasn't she who wished for the knowledge her teacup could offer, and she closed Unfogging the Future with a thud. The classroom was way too small and way too scented to breathe evenly, and Professor Trelawney obviously disliked her seeming change of heart.
"Miss Rosier, let me see your teacup," – she walked closer. Anne thought she looked a tad unsteady on her feet; probably the fumes from her hearth should be faulted for that.
"I – I think it's a bouquet," – Anne tried, chequing the picture in her book. "It means good luck, success, and happiness in love?" She wouldn't have minded those, but the Professor shook her head.
"No, no, Miss Rosier, I can clearly see a coffin under a saw. You must have a loved one close to the Great Journey, do you?"
"No, Madame, all in my family are in good health," – Anne replied, a little frightened.
"That's what you think, poor child… the saw… it shows trouble from people you don't know yet. But you must take heart; it's crowned with a mountain." Trelawney sailed away, leaving traces of her perfume and confusion behind.
Anne first looked into her teacup and tried to make out everything the Professor had mentioned. If she leaned her head to the left, she guessed she could see the mountain… the Unfogging the Future advised that it meant a powerful friend.
Take heart in a powerful friend…. Sounded like good advice if a loved one was to die and unknown enemies would put her in danger. Crowned with a powerful friend? Anne looked up crown just for the hell of it. It meant success and honour. Death, danger, success and honour, and a powerful friend. She wasn't sure if she wished for Professor Trelawney to be a talented seer or a horrible quack.
Anne stole into her side tower again for her free period, this time carrying Ephsos' book. She paged through the visualization techniques because she couldn't make heads or tails of elemental magic and found the breathing techniques and descriptions of steady and comfortable positions to practice them.
Looking through the drawings, she was unsure how she was supposed to feel steady and comfortable standing on her hands, bending around her waist, reaching her ankles from behind, or bending backwards from a standing position until her arms touched the ground. Honestly, she was unsure if she would ever feel relaxed and comfortable even sitting cross-legged without folding into herself like a collapsible gauging rod.
She tried. Then she sat by the wall and tried again. Ephsos stressed the importance of posture, so she did her best to approach what she saw on the drawings and attempted the first breathing technique only then. She was supposed to only breathe evenly, without thinking of anything but the act of it.
HOW?
After about a dozen intakes of air, she felt nauseous. It didn't work. Her head was spinning, and she was sure she would throw up in a minute if she didn't stop! Arrgh! Why would breathing be so complicated? What the hell did it have to do about mind magic at all?
She walked about in her tower for a few minutes and calmed down. Thinking about cleaning the windows and sourcing something to drink and eat to store here took her attention from breathing to the point she didn't notice taking air anymore. She only realized this by looking at Ephsos again. Breathing was automatic, unnoticed. Just like she hadn't noticed living others' emotions until just a day before. She could conquer this.
Not trusting in her posture, Anne sat with her back against the wall again, and this time she didn't try to rein in her breathing. She listened to it. She tried to take its measure like a foreign entity's. How did it work? It seemed to have calmed with her heartbeat, which she now felt awkwardly intense. If she focused hard enough, she thought she could make it faster or slower at her will. Would her breathe even out if she slowed her heart down?
Anne felt so lightheaded that she was unsure if she would faint or fall asleep, which gave her a fright enough for her heart to thud faster, and she gasped for air. She would not throw up, she promised herself, then was amazed by the connection. She was only sitting cross-legged on the floor and could make her body do all these amazing things by listening to her breathing? She knew that breathing was crucial for life - in theory, now it seemed it was the thread of life, and everything else was hanging from it!
The Bloody Baron showed up in her tower, and Anne ran down confusedly to her Prep class only to notice she was already twenty minutes late. Shite, she would need to set the alarm somehow! There was no way to avoid humiliation; she had already showed up and couldn't turn time back now! Professor Flitwick looked annoyed, but at least he didn't take points.
Preparation. Anne found she focused more easily than expected after eighteen hours on her feet. The calm she felt was not unlike after having a few hours of sleep, and even if she sensed the madness around the room, she could hide comfortably just like she used to in an easier class last year. Her focus didn't waver.
She only had the Ancient Runes and Divination homework besides the reading for Muggle Studies, but next week she would need to prepare for Arithmancy, Defence, and Herbology too. She should add more time for homework if she doesn't want to lag behind.
Anne chose the Infirmary to have dinner in peace and was glad to greet Madame Pomfrey. The mediwitch was sorting through her storages and Floo-ed for Professor Snape to inquire about some medical potions her schedule suggested she should have already received.
"I've had a busy night, Poppy, it still needs five hours to sit, but you'll receive it all with the Antidotes for Common Hexes before midnight," – Professor Snape's voice promised.
"Are you still brewing?" – Madame Pomfrey asked of the fire, a little concerned.
"Almost ready," – Anne heard the tired reply. "Have you seen…?"
"She's here, having dinner."
"Thank you, Poppy; I owe you one."
"Don't you mention, duck, just squeeze in some rest for my sake?"
"I'll do my best. If you don't mind-"
"Of course, I leave you to it," – Madame Pomfrey finished and pulled her head back from the fire.
Anne peeked towards the storage room's door and wondered if the mediwitch left it ajar on intent. She'd already known she must have been a bother here, and only Snape could have arranged her frequent reception. Now she also wondered whether Madame Pomfrey wished her to notice that or even something more.
She hadn't even thought about the origins of the medical potions, even less if their two hours long conversation had inconvenienced Professor Snape. He made her turn back time and have a good night's rest while he stayed and went on brewing whatever the school would need for the term. It seemed unjust. And thoughtful. Much more thoughtful than she had been. Which reminded her….
"Madame Pomfrey, would you mind if I took the end of the sausage for Mrs. Norris?"
"No, Miss Rosier, just make sure it's not the spicy one!"
The mediwitch's voice came from the depths of her storage room, and Anne didn't want to hinder her, so she said a hasty goodbye and hurried to see Mr. Filch and his cat. No one answered her polite knocking, so she let herself into the caretaker's office and sat by the table.
Anne woke with a start when a raspy cat tongue licked her thumb. She lay headfirst on the table with Mrs. Norris standing above her in all her hairy oddness and sniffed around her palm for any remaining delicacy. Mr. Filch shambled in through the door to his quarters with a tray holding a teapot and two cups.
"I won't make it too strong, lass; you seem knackered enough if you've already fallen over," – he poured the tea right after he put down the tray. "But you deserve something, for loyalty's a rare treasure. I'm always sayin', am I, Mrs. Norris?"
"Meow," – the ugly cat agreed and jumped into the old man's lap, soon purring contentedly, occasionally licking the memory of the sausage from her whiskers.
"I missed you, Mr. Filch," – Anne said with a yawn. The cat looked up, so she added: "And you too, Mrs. Norris, I've proved it, haven't I?"
The cat nodded her head on her master's lap and slowly blinked.
"She approves," – Mr. Filch commented. "Now, what made you so drained on your first day?"
Anne sipped from her tea to win time. It was horrible. Not much more than hot water. She should have thought about answers; it was logical to be questioned about her dealings. Alas, she was too exhausted to think now.
"I cannot tell you, Mr. Filch. I would if I could."
The old sergeant's eyes narrowed, but he must have decided to trust her, and that proved how lucky she was to know him as a friend.
"Does your Professor Snape know about the reason?"
Anne quickly checked her memory for the list of rules and she could answer this one. "Yes, he does. But he doesn't want me to tell it."
Filch smirked.
"The lad's never been one to shares his secrets," – he nodded all knowingly. "I won't ask."
"Mr. Filch, how… How come you are such close friends with Professor Snape? I mean, it's wonderful, but how come you are, and no one seems to know?"
"That, lass," – Filch let out a rusty chuckle - "is a very long story. Too long for you to hear before your bedtime. Now go," – he added after Anne yawned again despite her best intentions. "You'd better continue at your own place what you'd begun here!"
It was useless to argue.
"Good night, Mr. Filch," – she yawned again and never remembered how she got back to her dorm, just fell asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow, still dressed in her school robe, with her bookcase in hand.
Sometime before dawn, she woke with a start when something icy touched her ankle. The Bloody Baron was hovering above her bed, with arms crossed in front of his chest, looking angry.
"What now?" – Anne whined at the ghost, annoyed. "I'm not in my-" She remembered to shut her mouth at the last moment before she betrayed her secret tower, and looked around her dorm. Sophie's curtains were closed, Flora slept with her mouth hanging open, and Hestia softly snored on the fourth bed by the door. "What do you want?" – she whispered to the Baron.
The ghost stared at her chest long enough for her to look. The Time Turner hung loose above her robe. It must have escaped from its confinement when she was tossing in her sleep.
"Oh! Thanks, I guess…" – Anne hid the device quickly. "Are you supervising me?" – she whispered to the ghost, intending to joke, but the short and decided nod surprised her.
"Why- How? Did Professor Snape ask you to look after me?"
Another short nod. It was unmistakable.
"But why?"
The ghost only hovered.
"Shite. Well, thanks for trusting me, anyway…."
The Bloody Baron's face pulled into an ugly grimace, and he pointed an accusing finger at her chest before he dashed away.
Anne harrumphed into the darkness. Bloody rules! It seemed she wasn't supposed to break them even in her sleep! At that particular moment, half an hour before the first light would break above her parents' house, far enough from the mountains to even bask in their glory, Anne Rosier would have sworn that her Head of House was a paranoid madman who deserved at least the better parts of all the stinging nicknames most students had for him. One thing was to establish rules and be a strict acerbic prick and overall a nuisance. But to direct a ghost like the Bloody Baron to oversee a girl in her sleep in her dorm was over the top, even from a maniac like him!
That she was certain this time the outrage was her own emotion and no one else's, lent little comfort. However, it was sufficient to make her wide awake. She checked her notebook and amended her schedule, noting all she'd learned the day before. She must insert nap time, or she would peg out before knowing what the hell the maniac wanted with her on the third floor before curfew on Saturday. Which would have been a waste, for she was ready to die of curiosity already.
The first note on her to-do list was learning some warning charms or establishing alarms and alerts somehow in her tower – she was unsure of the details, so she had to research. Then there was the issue of Madame Pince, who agreed to have her around just to be abandoned on the very first evening. Anne felt her cheeks reddening with shame. And there was the issue of homework, yet not overly pressing. She tiptoed into the bathroom and was up by the kitchen at half past six.
She asked the house elves for some bottles of pumpkin juice and shameless measures of biscuits. She also received two apples and a sandwich she'd never asked for but hid in her bookcase. The school was still asleep or grumpily hiding in the Common Rooms and quarters, so she walked up to her side tower and hid the treasure. It needed a table or a cupboard, but her Transfiguration skills were not yet ready to attempt any difficult conjuring work. At least she had a clean rug, a pillow she took from her dorm, her guitar now safely restored to its righteous place, and, of course, Ephsos' trice damned book with a wide bookmark at the breathing technics.
Now she was ready to hang around the Library fresh as a pear before Madame Pince showed up. Funnily enough, the wizarding literature was brimming with alarming spells, charms, and wards. Then there were the warning charms, wards that warned for intruders or identified different entities, spells to warn about required things throughout the day, and much more, at least by the catalogue's marks.
It took an hour to choose a warning charm to set on her wand for any specific time. Then it would notify her with silent and discreet buzzing, a simple enough ward to chime if she slipped and wanted to enter her tower while she was already inside, and a spell to make an object flash in the colour of a sunbeam when she had to be elsewhere. She could link that to her notebook. The hardest part was choosing an adequate object to signal. She thought she needed something she always had at hand, but her wand would have been suspicious; a piece of clothing could be lost or forgotten…
Suddenly Anne remembered the friendship bracelet she got in the Music Camp from Judy Silversmith. It was undoubtedly Muggle, but not overly suspicious, and she could fix it on her wrist, never taking it off. She, of course, had cut it as soon as she'd arrived at Rachel's and put it in her Charms textbook because that was what she was reading at the time. Hooray for the swots! Anne threw a hasty goodbye to Madame Pince and ran madly down the stairs to her dorm to retrieve it.
Professor Snape disapproved, but Anne was still sore about the Baron's visit, so she didn't care about his tirades. She tore open her Charms textbooks and Reparo-ed the bracelet, casting the spell to notify her about her schedule in her notebook. It worked on the second try! Anne kissed the ebony wand and accepted Sophie's laughter and opinion about her sanity. Then the bracelet flared up because she was already late from Defence.
Classroom 3C was conveniently close to the main staircase, so she didn't have to run along the halls. Anne slipped inside just a moment before the oak door opened on the gallery and sat at the last table in the back. She would have chuckled to follow Snape's, no, the Insane Maniac's, advice to the tee if she wasn't hit promptly in the chest with Gilderoy Lockhart's unlimited aplomb like a tornado. Anne gasped, and the blond wizard nodded to her with smiling condescension.
"Oh, yes, this is me," – he began the most curious lesson on the Dark Arts anyone had ever heard. "It was more than gossip; I am sure you are relieved to know that. We had little time to become friends when the Headmaster introduced me, so let us start with the most important: How much do you know about me?"
A set of parchment flew from the teacher's table and sorted itself to the students. Anne gasped again in shock when she saw it was already a quiz. Then she read the first two questions and looked up bedazzled. All questions were about him or his books, and Professor Lockhart smiled with unrestrained self-confidence until Anne felt her arm itching to swish into the air and talk about her issues with this approach.
Wait - she wanted to scream at herself. Wait, wait, wait a minute! I never wave my hand; no way this is – oh, gods!
Anne's hand flew into the air.
"Yes, Miss–"
"Rosier, sir. I'm sorry, but I must… I must leave." She gathered up her things and already stood up. "To the Infirmary," – she added with a strike of reason. "I'm very sorry, sir, I must!"
"Of course you are; who wouldn't be sorry? Now let's see how the others fare with the questions-" – she heard behind her back, slipping through the door.
She felt like herself again in the safe corridor and wandered ahead without looking where her legs took her.
"Stupid. Stupid, worthless…."
"Miss Rosier? Can I help you, dear?"
She looked up at Madame Pomfrey and was close to hugging the witch, sensing her care. No, that was not good either; she might have only begun to care about the mediwitch because she cared about everyone around!
"No, Madame, I'm sorry, I just needed fresh air."
"Are you sure? You should be in class, Miss Rosier. Have you felt faint again? You look flushed. Do you need my assistance, or shall I notify your Head of House?"
Anne's eyes rounded wildly.
"No! No, thank you, Madame Pomfrey, we don't need to disturb him," – Anne tried to think and get over her panic. She'd walked on the third-floor corridor to get away from Lockhart, and now she realized she'd ventured to the Infirmary wing. "I had to leave my Defence class; I didn't feel like myself," – she admitted, surprisingly close to the truth. "But since I have fresh air, it is much better."
The mediwitch looked her over with some suspicions. "A lot are affected by that man, dear; there's nothing to feel ashamed of," – she finally sighed. "I remember when he'd been a student here, he was less popular, but I guess we all have our moments sooner or later."
Anne understood her pity sooner than her words and gasped for the third time, now with a recognition: "No, it's not like that, Madame Pomfrey… I am not taken with his… personality. On the contrary… I wasn't ready to… see… such exuberance in Defence," – she navigated her words, avoiding the restricted. It felt like that strange Muggle game in the camp when they had to describe an object without mentioning forbidden words. How would you say you held a ball without saying it was rounded?
She was unsure of her success when the mediwitch's eyes narrowed again.
"Let me run a quick check, Miss Rosier, and if you're as right as you say, I'll let you go to your next class."
Anne swallowed hard. Was it possible to identify an Empath by any health scans? She nodded because she had no better idea.
"Right as rain," – Madame Pomfrey announced just a few minutes later, letting Anne finally get up from the Infirmary's bed. "I've been wondering what caused your episodes last year, Miss Rosier. I have to tell you that I was sorely tempted to report your case to the Headmaster before your Head of House convinced me that you only needed time."
"Yes, he gave me time himself, and I am getting on, Madame Pomfrey," – Anne confessed, courting the truth. "I've never received formal education before Hogwarts, and sometimes I find crowd and exuberance hard to bear."
"Do you? Well, we may try a few mild sedatives in case you feel overwhelmed or experience anxiety. I have known Professor Snape to deal with panic attacks before."
Anne didn't know why this surprised her. Kids in Slytherin had all kinds of problems just like anywhere else. "Has he?"
Madame Pomfrey smiled and put her tools and wand away.
"Oh, he's a gentle soul, but no one would believe that. I've been working here too long and remember too much, dear. Now, if you feel strong enough to return to your class, then-"
"Please, Madame Pomfrey!" – Anne exclaimed with a fright. "Couldn't I be let to the Library instead, or maybe I could help you here with something?" She would have done anything just to avoid that class.
"I'll note that I kept you for observation, but I will not give you a slip for your next class."
"Thank you, Madame Pomfrey!"
The mediwitch turned to her storage cabinet with a list in hand she must have put down when she'd heard her approach the Infirmary.
"Is there anything I can help you with while you observe me?" – Anne asked, still grateful for her help.
She spent the next hour and a half running in and out of Madame Pomfrey's storage room, replacing potions in the cabinet following the list. At the same time, the mediwitch reorganized the storage in the farthest depths of the storage room. She told Anne about the need for daily cleaning, the special cleaning charms the Infirmary used, the hardships of storing the more sensitive brews, and the efficiency of a brewing station behind the storage room.
"I would even show you, dear, if you're so interested, but your Professor Snape would bite my head off if I as much as touched the doorknob without his permission. That's all right, though; he'd saved countless limbs from that room over the years, so he's earned the right to it, which I won't dispute."
"Is Professor Snape also working in the Infirmary wing?" – Anne stared at her with surprise.
"On occasion," – Madame Pomfrey nodded. "Some sensitive brews don't react well to the sloshing when transferred, and medical cases are better solved with close attention. I'm lucky to have a potioneer at his calibre so close, even if the Infirmary could do with one or two more sets of hands. He is a busy man."
"Why doesn't Professor Dumbledore hire an assistant?"
"Oh, he'd tried a few times, but the board wasn't accommodating. These are boring issues, Miss Rosier. Funds and employment… a boarding school with its insane workload is not most people's favourite daydream when they plan a career in potions or mediwizardry. Even the Professors don't get hired assistants, and I can't recall the last time anyone had an apprentice around here."
Anne still remembered what a difference a research assistant made in her aunt's life, and she tried to imagine her professors' workload. They had three classes of most core subjects for five years, each with two houses at a time, which made for thirty periods a week, plus the NEWT classes. No wonder Professor Snape corrected essays whenever she saw him in his office. If she added to that the prep classes and the detentions he supervised, the average two or three hours he spent in the Slytherin Common Room a week, and brewing for the Infirmary, she was surprised he didn't use a Time-Turner himself.
Now Mr. Filch's struggles seemed less unique compared to her teachers', and it occurred to her for the first time that neither Madame Pince nor Madame Pomfrey had a vice.
"Let's not dwell on the challenges, girl, this is a fine day, and I appreciate your help. Now, time for you to leave if you don't want to be late for your next class!"
"Yes, of course… thank you, Madame Pomfrey!"
Anne toddled off to her Herbology class as if she weren't totally confused about life. People were definitely not even similar to the image most had about them. And calling Snape an Insane Maniac in her head didn't sound so cool anymore. She also made a mental note to consider if she was so sensitive to her teachers' struggles because of the Empath-thing or by natural inclination. Madame Pomfrey must have many of these thoughts on her long nights at the Infirmary after all, and suffering was indeed in the air there.
The Herbology courses that year began with Mandrakes revision, and they had to sow these strange plants in seedbeds for the second year's use later in the year. It was more peaceful and silent than repotting them, so it didn't hurt her equanimity. It was also easy to turn back time with five hours unnoticed outside of the castle, and going for breakfast instead of lunch was a welcome occupation after so many hours on her feet. Gods, was she starving! Will the whole year revolve around making sure she has her regular mealtimes? She should have asked for a bite at the Infirmary!
Divination was her first class on her second morning, and Professor Trelawney didn't have a sunnier day than the last one. At least Anne knew more about Tasseography than before. They had to see to their partner's teacup this time, and Arthur Cadweller got sore when she foretold him of an accident.
She presented her imaginary shopping list for Muggle Studies and sat still while the class contemplated the benefits of Muggle supermarkets contra open-air markets. They had to revise the differences between cooking charms and Muggle kitchen techniques for homework.
As she had no free period in the afternoon, this had to be the day Anne first tried to nap in her tower. She turned back five hours after Muggle Studies and had her sandwich with pumpkin juice before laying down on her rug, setting her wand to wake her with a buzz.
The floor was hard, and the small pillow didn't do much to help. After squirming for half an hour, Anne began to panic. She had two sets of afternoon classes, Astronomy practice after midnight, and promised to meet Madame Pince after Preps! How was she supposed to do any of that if she fell on a table or a desk, again, asleep?
She remembered Ephsos' breathing techniques and decided to at least try those. She turned on her back and began to listen to her breathing. If she focused hard enough, she didn't even hear anything else from the castle, and she wasn't nauseous lying on her back. Just before she would have recognized she managed to empty her mind for the first time, Anne fell deeply asleep.
Her wand's soft noise came from far away, and she needed a full minute before she understood its meaning. The sun shone through the tall windows, and the world was beautiful in a magical castle. Then her bracelet shone bright, and Anne hurried to her double Astronomy class. They had theory in the afternoon and practice at midnight.
After Astronomy – which was easier in theory than composing charts – she hid in the third floor's passage and turned back time by five hours again. It was high time for lunch, and she ate like a wolf. A moderately domesticated wolf with a sense of table manners, but still. She had to work on scheduling better meal times.
Anne's first Arithmancy lesson finally made it worth all the troubles, struggles, and downsides of her magical education! This was m-a-g-i-c at its prime! She had never felt this gratified for being a witch, even in Charms! Septima Vector didn't give an entire speech against foolish wand-waving like Anne remembered her first Potions class, but she definitely could have.
Numerology and Grammatica had such a logical structure most reading for the Hogwarts curriculum couldn't brag about. It began with Pythagoras, and so did the lesson. Anne loved the idea of the Universe being a logical system which could be broken into its essential elements, numbers. Arithmancy understood letters like different attributes for numbers, and Professor Vector drew up the Greek alphabet as a point of origin to convert between the two sets of signs.
Now her studies in Ancient Runes seemed even more critical. Anne also remembered that when she'd first searched through her brothers' room for reading material, she'd been looking for Hebrew letters and signs to understand what her grandmother had been talking about. She asked Professor Vector after class, who was happy to acknowledge the connection, although she was certain there was more to the religious approach that would never be taught at Hogwarts. Anne was still pleased about her new favourite subject and maybe even happier about Vector's five points for her insightful question. This was her first clear win of the week.
Professor Kettleburn looked much less promising. Anne had seen him before but had never observed him to such length, and the result was horrifying. The Professor already lost two limbs and an eye for his subject, and all in the class vowed not to follow his example.
Kettleburn began the lesson by explaining why the subject's name had changed from Magical Beasts to Magical Creatures after the long and arduous work of Newt Scamander. It was impossible not to feel exceptional respect for that wizard. Then the Professor divided the students into those who came to see a unicorn foal and the rest. After marching them all into the Forbidden Forest to show a golden foal, the sooner, the better, he made all return to the castle and asked those four girls, who said this was their only goal, not to join his class again.
"You've already got what you wanted; now let us work! It's not too late to join another elective class."
For Anne's silent regrets, they all chose Divination. At least she instantly liked Professor Kettleburn better. She could feel his outrage, amusement, and black humour, which weren't far from what she had already known and appreciated in Professor Snape.
Anne hid in her tower to practice Ephsos' breathing for an hour because she wanted to learn how to stay awake. It was a close call, but she could empty her mind without nodding off. She walked down to her Prep class refreshed and proud of her achievement, and tried to practice the deep breathing techniques she'd read about while doing her homework. It helped her focus, and she finished Muggle Studies, Divination, and Herbology in one period. It was miraculous!
She still needed to find out how to read all of Lockhart's books in two days and make time for her Arithmancy homework: learning the Greek alphabet. She would have asked Professor Vector to teach her the language if her schedule was any less full.
She went on having dinner in the Great Hall not to inconvenience Madame Pomfrey and then to finally be good to her word and assist Madame Pince after closing the Library, only to turn back with two hours and finish her homework in her side tower. It was less efficient this time; she felt knackered even with the napping. Oh, that was so long ago!
She turned back again at the base of the wooden stairs on the fourth floor, returned to her dorm seemingly right after dinner, closed the curtains around her bed, and promptly fell asleep. Her wand woke her ten minutes before midnight. Flora and Hestia had already packed up their things for Astronomy practice, and they climbed up to the highest tower of Hogwarts, yawning together.
Hestia mentioned that Malcolm nosed out when the Gryffindors held their Quidditch tryouts and that all third and second years agreed to show up by the Quidditch pitch on Saturday.
"We're in this together, don't forget that all of us took detentions last year just because you couldn't judge a Hufflepuff for what she was."
Anne didn't need the reminder and promised to be ready to boo the Gryffindors on Saturday. She had noticed, though, that Hestia's rage and prickliness were more bearable with the breathing Ephsos taught, and although she still hid in the house in her head, she didn't feel the need to stay as far away from Hestia's stings as she usually would. Probably it was time to try the rest of Ephsos' suggestions if they worked so well.
After the abysmal Astronomy practice, Anne returned to their dorm, closed the curtain around her bed, and shamelessly turned back time to midnight, getting in two more hours of additional sleep than her classmates. It was for educational purposes… as in 'for the purpose' of being upright and getting further education. What was the difference?
Having two almost forty hours long days behind her, Anne struggled to wake up at seven on Thursday. She hoped her body would somehow miraculously get accustomed to the insane demands, but knew it was unlikely. She should find a way to have sufficient rest between her full day in the morning and a full day in the afternoon. She was under the shower when the divine stroke of a genius hit her! The side tower had two small rooms she had never used, only cleaned. If she could figure a way to get a bed in one of those rooms…. She stopped the water with disappointment when she realized that her Transfiguration skills were hardly enough to help.
At least the History of Magic double class was not too demanding. She had breakfast after a practiced five hours turn after class and proceeded to Arithmancy on the seventh floor. The following Ancient Runes class made her day, and having it on the fourth floor made her escape to her tower easier.
Five hours back again, Anne cleaned up one of the side rooms in her tower and had some biscuits and a bottle of pumpkin juice before Ephsos's next breathing technique.
It was the visualization of taking in clean, light-coloured air and breathing out something darker, gloomier, supposed to clear her system and thoughts. It calmed her mind enough to make the previous meditation a lot easier, and she fell asleep on the hard floor without any problem.
When her wand buzzed the wake-up call, she turned back again, finally had lunch instead of breakfast, and went for her double Charms class. Thursdays' challenge would be the homework, she noticed as soon as the Prep period arrived. Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Charms, and History of Magic all required detailed essays, and in the case of Charms, practice too. She also had her first translation to make and found it hard enough without any practice using the Syllabary. And she was yet to open a book by Gilderoy Lockhart.
Perhaps she would opt for turning back once more and doing her homework in her tower simultaneous with her afternoon classes in the future, but yet Anne was content leaving the rest for the weekend. Instead, she showed up in the Library and tried to get Madame Pince to talk about her precious books. That was an unlikely but well-appreciated way of winding down because Pince knew the most extraordinary and sometimes outrageous stories behind a tome or an author. Rachel had frequently told her that every book had its story, but none of what Anne had heard yet have been as engaging as the librarian's favourites.
Pince could be a fun witch to be around if one let her have her way and listened. And although she'd never gossiped about real life, flesh and bone people, she seemed to know all the delicious and often saucy details about dead authors and publishers and shared without being prudish.
Anne also made sure to pop into the caretaker's office for at least a greeting and to scratch Mrs. Norris' ears and belly. Then she was off to sleep in her dorm. Most likely, she wouldn't have such an easy Thursday when the term progressed, but if Anne had learned anything in her last few days, that was the value of time, nourishment, and rest. Her day was about thirty hours long if she counted in sleep, even without finishing her homework. Or reading Lockhart. Damn.
On Friday morning, Anne prepared conscientiously for her Defence class experience. Even if she had no adequate homework, she put in tremendous effort. She got up at six and began with Ephsos' second breathing technique before showering until she approached the bathroom in a trance-like calm. Then she made sure to practice Ephsos' first breathing technique while she hid in her usual little house and only peeked through the windows. She emptied her mind as much as she could by the time the Professor glided through his oak door up on his balcony and greeted the class.
Anne's quill made her notes almost automatically, without her ever engaging her thoughts with whatever Lockhart thought to say. Her face was so blank the Professor remarked upon her possible illness that held her away in their previous class. When Anne affirmed that she had indeed been to the Infirmary, Professor Lockhart insisted on her staying in the last row and directed everyone to leave space for her.
Consequentially, even Malcolm Urquhart avoided Anne in the year's first Potions class, giving her the first reason to appreciate Lockhart.
Now the problem was to somehow push through her defences, at least to the point of offering a "normal" reaction, but Anne failed. Her breath came slowly and evenly as if she was asleep, and her face remained blank. Not that Professor Snape had any problem with that. On the contrary! He stepped into the Potions classroom with the usual bang of the door closing behind him, spotted Anne's uncharacteristic blankness, and smirked at the blackboard while showing his wand at it.
"Wiggenwald Potion revision," – he began without preamble. "All of you who manage to make an acceptable base may come forward for their quiz. You have thirty minutes, not more. Otherwise, I can guarantee that none of you will finish the test. Begin!"
Anne faintly heard the Gryffindors' groans, but her body moved with sheer focus on her task. Only a base, she repeated to herself, and her mind recited the ingredient list and brewing time as if she were reading it from her notes.
A look at the blackboard after she gathered her ingredients. Step one, check, step two, check, and step three was different from the book's suggestion but congruent to her notes from last year. Check. Cauldron – fire, small flame – Horklump-juice – dittany leaves – salamander blood. Cutting the leaves diagonally – pouring them into the cauldron – adding the juice before they browned – salamander blood before it boils up – red liquid. Check. Stir until orange, clockwise. Check. Anne raised the heat and added more salamander blood until the potion reached the turquoise colour of the required base.
"'Panic attacks,' Miss Rosier?" – Snape silently asked as he put the quiz on Anne's desk, and with an absent wand move, Evanesco-ed the ready Wiggenwald's base from her cauldron. "Those of you already done with the base had better only raise your hands unless wishing to collide with the dunderheads around the storage cabinets.
"I will deduct points for every single incident, Miss Mirfield; those were two already. Please find your seat with that – bulbadox juice? I amend my words, Miss Mirfield, that's a 'P' for today. Put down your items before you hurt somebody and return behind your desk!
"Miss Midgeon, this is not the Chatty Witch's Charming Chimes; if I hear your voice one more time without permission, you will scrub the Owlery with Mr. Filch the entire evening!"
Anne cursed under her breath. Of course, this impossible Maniac had to confuse the Hell out of her, mentioning the idiocy she blabbered in the Infirmary a day before! Was he angry? It would have been worthless to reach into the air around Snape; she wouldn't sense a thing, but the fact she stopped to contemplate it destroyed her focus.
Don't panic! – she tried telling herself. She was at least still safe in her head. Quiz – you know this – she repeated to herself and did her utmost to focus on those envisioned shelves in the backroom of her mind. She had all her Potions notes and only needed to read them.
How does Fire Protection Potion protect? By giving the consumer an icy sensation against the flames.
List three essential ingredients for Strengthening Solution! Human arm bone, Fanged Geranium, snake fangs (powdered) – on second thought, she numbered the ingredients by the time of adding to the brew, 2-1-3.
Identify the potion by ingredients: rat tails, billiwig stings, porcupine quills! Hair-raising Potion.
Anne worked her way through the two double sheets of parchments, feeling behind every minute. The classroom noises slowly muted around her, and her breath evened out. By the last question (Describe bat spleens and give at least one referenced use – pink, mellow, Swelling Solution), she was almost sure she was alone in the classroom because the others must have already left.
Putting her quill down, Anne looked around with surprise. Professor Snape was at the back of the classroom, vanishing a failed attempt for the Wiggenwald's base that emitted thick brown fog, and only four people were yet writing. What?! She realized she'd somehow returned to that dream-like calm state she'd been working towards for almost an hour before Defence class. Her astonishment destroyed the major part of her focus, and she was left with only the protection Professor Snape had described as feeble some days ago – it seemed like a lifetime – but she couldn't complain. Maybe she was yet to master Ephsos's breathing techniques, but she'd just proved they worked!
She turned back time as soon as she was safely outside of class and went for breakfast with the others. Hestia and Vaisey were busy organizing with the second years for Saturday afternoon. Flint, the Quidditch captain, couldn't be smugger; only the Malfoy kid came close to his airs and ego with that horrible self-satisfied sneer he wore.
Anne ran up for Ancient Runes with great anticipation, and the class was as wonderful as she had hoped; even her translation didn't fall too far off the mark. She danced up to Divination class in the Northern Tower and regretted her choice to take this elective ten minutes into class.
The scented smoke from Trelawney's hearth was slightly nauseating, although if she let it lure her into an altered state of mind, she couldn't care about that. However, that altered state was unachievable hiding at the back of her mind. Already eleven hours into her day without a rest, Anne eventually packed three points for Slytherin for the alleged opening of her mind's eye and a headache. She trudged over to her side tower, turning back time by five hours again, and fell on the stolen pillow, only remembering to make her wand alert her at the last minute before she fell asleep.
Five hours later, with tousled hair and starving, she showed up for lunch in the Infirmary and asked for a headache potion. Madame Pomfrey faulted the brown fog in the third year's Potion class and mumbled about Jack Sloper's lacking manners, who'd just left after emptying a similar potion vial without a word.
"I thought I would see you more frequently, Miss Rosier. Professor Snape expected you to take all your meals here like last year. He wasn't happy to hear about your mishap on Wednesday."
Anne swallowed the piece of veal fillet before she let herself try to imagine a happy Professor Snape… his being unhappy about life, in general, was considered a default.
"I'm trying to return to my normal life as much as possible, Madame Pomfrey. He must have seen it too. And I'm getting better at it every day."
"Well, if it gives you a headache, then you are pushing yourself too hard, in my opinion. You may take it even as medical advice: be more patient with yourself, dear! Your body, magic, and mind are all linked together, and you shouldn't force yourself against nature."
Anne hang up on her words. "Against nature? What does magic have to do with nature? I mean… how much of my experience with… magic" – she said instead of mind magic – "is due to what nature wants and how much is what I force? How could I distinguish the two?"
Madame Pomfrey sat down for the first time since Anne had known her. "You're asking profound questions for a thirteen years old witch-"
"Fourteen," – Anne interjected.
"Already? You must be the oldest in your year," – the mediwitch reflected, and Anne had to nod. She wasn't sure if she liked being the oldest; thankfully, most didn't seem to mind it. "Anyway, to search the connection between magic and nature and the use of magic for or against nature is a deeply philosophical endeavour. As far as I remember, your House's Head used to be preoccupied with it at your age or a little later. He could advise you or arrange a discussion with the Headmaster, who'd even published about the subject in his youth."
"Did he?"
"As I recall," – the mediwitch nodded. "Madame Pince can surely guide you. I don't believe all about his studies on Charms and Transfiguration are classified for the Restricted Section. But what I mentioned is mostly about the aspect of your health. Being a witch, you are also a magical being as much as a human. If you force yourself against your nature, it will damage your well-being. Merlin knows I had to tell the same to your Professor Snape more times than I care to count."
"Is he forcing his magic against nature?" – Anne asked, surprised. Was that not the same as describing the Dark Arts in some older books?
Madame Pomfrey chuckled. "I meant his human body. We all have limits of capacity, Miss Rosier, and you should learn to appreciate that just like everybody else, even in your House. What did you do to reintegrate into that so-called 'normal' life of your classmates?" – She asked after giving some moments for Anne to organize her thoughts.
"Well… erm…" Anne struggled against the truth. The mediwitch's attention felt wonderful, and she was already slipping into that fuzzy happy feeling she always experienced whenever somebody showed some care… but what could she say? Mentioning mind magic was against the rules. Mentioning the Time-Turner was also against the rules. She had a distinct impression that Snape's unhappiness would multiply tenfold if she even thought to mention his involvement, so what did she do that she could tell about?
"Well, I found a book on my…" – 'mum's' - she wanted to say but didn't dare – "one of my relative's shelves, in… in the summer. And it described breathing techniques and positions, which seemed very hard… But I tried, and they help, so the crowd bothers me less, and…."
"Have you heard about Muggle yoga?" – Madame Pomfrey asked with a scowl, trying to shell out something from her incoherent mumbling.
"I – Isn't that uncommon?"
"It is, but certainly not unheard of!" – the mediwitch laughed. "Don't be so shy about it, dear; everybody knows you are great friends with Madame Pince, Merlin only knows how you've achieved that! She is well-known for her devotion to this Muggle art, and I can tell how much it helps her health charts, even if no one gives two hoots about it. Why don't you let her convert you for her passion? Your secret would be safe with me!"
"Friends?" – Anne hung up on the word, and Madame Pomfrey laughed again before finally leaving her for her lunch.
"Don't you be ashamed of it, Miss Rosier!"
"Thank you, Madame Pomfrey!" – Anne cried after her when the mediwitch left her alone in her office, still in high spirits. Since when was she supposed to be great friends with Madame Pince? And who would have thought that she….
Anne left her half-eaten lunch and rushed to the Library. She made up a heinously winding tale about a book with breathing techniques and her phasing out in Potions, resulting in Madame Pince telling her that a young witch could not have an idea what she'd been about without guidance. Anne then admitted to all her failures and the librarian was finally sufficiently hooked to promise help after hours "to untangle the mess Anne made of it all."
Transfiguration was more challenging due to her own exuberant feelings than any others, and Anne still felt some triumph when she headed to the greenhouses for Herbology. She hid under the first trees at the edge of the Forbidden Forest to turn back time for the double Care for Magical Creatures and was ready to collapse of exhaustion when it was over.
Unfortunately, it was too early for that. She fell asleep in Prep class, but thankfully, Professor Flitwick didn't mind that on a Friday. Then her classmates went on to nick some snacks from the kitchen, and she approached the Library to help Madame Pince close and tidy up the place after the day.
"Try to return those books without magic, Miss Rosier!" – Madame Pince advised when Anne finally finished double-checking the fifth-year Ravenclaws' returned books.
"Lift from your legs and use your core muscles!" – the librarian advised in a slightly impatient tone.
"What muscles, Madame Pince?"
Irma Pince put down her hat, wand, and glasses and determinedly approached. "Here," - her palm showed to Anne's thighs and bottom - "Your legs. And your core," – she showed around Anne's lower back and belly. "Use this part of your body!"
She tried.
"No, no, Miss Rosier! Can't you squeeze your abdominal muscles?"
Anne tried again, and the pile dangerously canted to the side in her hands.
"Put that down, girl!" – Madame Pince lost patience – "and take off your school robe! You're decent under it, I trust?"
"I- I am, Madame– What are we going to do?" – Anne hesitated, but Madame Pince already divested her outer robe and stood before Anne in her full-length black skirt and light blue ruffled neck blouse.
She waited for Anne to do as she'd asked.
"Now, let me see what you're doing!"
Very soon, it was clear as day that Anne couldn't do anything right. Her posture was lacking, her stance imbalanced, and her muscles neglected. After five minutes, she was honestly surprised she was even upright and walking, and they were yet to hit the breathing question. Of course, doing it all her life couldn't mean she had an inkling how to do such a thing right! She breathed through her mouth with rare exception, panted by the slightest exercise, and could only pack the sole accomplishment of being a good stair climber, which, by Pince's evaluation, gave her a modicum of endurance. (She used 'stamina,' but Anne's paperback-trained sensibilities immediately altered the word.)
"This is Mortimer the Accomplished' s third theorem disputed by a student of not lesser a wizard but Paracelsus himself," – Madame Pince put a book on Anne's head. "I cannot stress enough how disappointed you would make me if I had to see it fallen on the floor. Now stand straight and breathe, girl; let me see your lower abdomen do the work! Deep breaths, Miss Rosier! Slowly!"
It wasn't slow enough, and Anne began to feel nauseous again. Her back hurt just by standing, and Madame Pince kept lecturing her about balance and patience.
"You are supposed to put equal weight on your legs and pull in your backside, girl, so your back can be straight, see?"
Anne's first lesson in standing and breathing took about half an hour, and she hurt at places within a few minutes she had never known existed. To crown her shame, Madame Pince put away the fifth-year Ravenclaws' returned books in the end with a swish of her wand.
"You sorely lack the most basic skills, Miss Rosier, but if you wish to learn them, you may join me after hours. I usually practice in the evenings at home, but I can make an exception for your sake."
"Are you not living in the castle, Madame Pince?" – Anne realized with surprise she had never thought about the librarian's quarters before.
"No, Miss Rosier, I have a cottage in Hogsmeade. Unfortunately, I doubt you would get permission to visit even if you turned back time so you would never be missing from the castle."
"Turn back," – Anne gasped – "I'm sorry, Madame Pince, but I don't–"
Pince showed a finger at Anne's necklace. The Time-Turner was still safely hidden under her top, but the golden chain was plain to see when she discarded her school robe.
"It's not the first time I've seen that device, Miss Rosier. Am I right to presume you were supposed to keep it a secret?"
Anne swallowed hard. "Wh- yes, Professor Snape wouldn't be glad to know I failed on my first week."
"Then you'd better go straight to tell him yourself," – Madame Pince nodded. "I know a thing or two about your Head of House; the only way you can placate him will be honesty," – she added, seeing Anne's fright. "If he still seems unreasonable, send him to me!"
"Thanks, Madame Pince; I'd better go straight to see him. Thank you for the lesson!"
"Goodnight, Miss Rosier! See you on Monday!"
Anne was starving and wished for nothing but dinner; even the bracelet shone on her wrist that her scheduled meal time was overdue, but she was too frightened to eat. To see Madame Pince on Monday, she should survive the weekend, but at the moment, she wasn't sure if that was even possible. What would Snape say if she approached him with news about her mistake? She hurried down to his office and knocked in vain.
Stupid! Stupid! He must be in the Great Hall! Thinking about it, Anne was unsure if her House's Head would return to his office for a Friday night. She waited on the dim corridor with less and less faith for half an hour, afraid to walk away and too freaked out to think up a solution. Then the Bloody Baron showed up at the end of the hallway.
"Baron, wait, can you–" Anne ran towards the ghost to ask where to find her House's Head, but it disappeared through a wall, and she almost collided with Professor Snape's annoyed self, mumbling about insipid house ghosts.
"I'm sorry, Professor! I've been waiting for you but was unsure if you'd come!"
"So you have arranged for the Baron to fetch me, Miss Rosier?"
"No!" Anne gasped, "I would never even- But sir, he must have realized I've been- Professor, I messed up! I'm so sorry; the Baron even tried to warn me, but I–"
"Silence!"
Anne shut up immediately, although she was yet to stop the tears that escaped her eyes. She knew Snape wouldn't appreciate her histrionics; it wasn't the moment she could help it, though…. Her Professor opened his office door and herded her inside. He didn't turn to look at Anne before he warded the door and hearth. Then he sat on the edge of his desk and lifted an eyebrow.
Anne took a breath to talk, but nothing came out. She tried again. 'Honesty to placate him' - she remembered.
"I'm sorry, Professor, I broke the rules. It wasn't intentional. But now Madame Pince knows about the Time-Turner, and I know I shouldn't have, but I needed her help… and Madame Pomfrey said she was into yoga, and I couldn't just get it right, so when I went for the headache potion, and she told me about all those things about Professor Dumbledore, and you, and Pince, I had to ask! And she admitted to all of it, even let me –"
Snape was up as if pushed by a spring on her third incoherent sentence and strode through his office and back. Now he swooped down at Anne:
"She did WHAT?!"
"Well, Madame Pomfrey–"
"What did Irma Pince admit to you, girl?" – Professor Snape demanded.
Anne swallowed nervously, Snape looked madder than her worst fear.
"That she was indeed into yoga," – she replied with a trembling voice, and her Professor turned away that instant; his flurrying fright and relief chased each other in the air around them. "She agreed to teach me; she is wonderful and so kind! She even said I would be welcome to visit her cottage, although she didn't believe I would get permission even if one of my selves stayed behind in the castle with the Time-Turner. Because she recognized it, sir… when she was teaching me… I didn't let it slip, but she saw the chain and–"
Snape was staring her down from standing by the hearth. Strangely, his narrowed eyes betrayed more disbelief than anger.
"Have you just described Irma Pince as kind?"
Anne's eyes rounded wide. Was that what bothered him? And why was he so frightened just a minute ago?
"She is an exceptional witch and has always been kind to me," – Anne told her Professor a touch too primly.
Professor Snape's expression reordered into a rarely seen sneer, then he chuckled bitterly. The whole process seemed like a seldom-used engine kicked into gear, and Anne would have sworn she heard him cry out for Hell under his breath.
"You will excuse me, Miss Rosier," – he eventually said, pulled his wand, and dismantled the ward on his heart.
With a snippet of Floo powder Professor Snape then painted the flames green and called into the hearth:
"Irma Pince's cottage, Hogsmeade!"
For a few seconds, nothing happened, then Anne heard the librarian's sarcastic voice from the flames:
"Rus? I guess I should fake surprise…."
"Madame Pince," – Snape's tone was full of hidden warning – "would you do us the favour of coming through?"
A minute later, Anne saw the Hogwarts librarian in her black skirt and light blue ruffled neck blouse, eying her Professor Snape with defiance and hints of some inside knowledge in her eyes that she was not supposed to understand. Professor Snape looked as annoyed as usual, aside from some of the previous mirth in his eyes. Anne couldn't read his emotions, but she sensed great affection and forced temerity in Pince.
"I just heard about your offer to my student, Madame Pince." Anne wondered why that name sounded so unnatural from her Professor's lips.
"And now I'm supposed to regret debunking your little plot, am I?" – Madame Pince sighed. "You should have known better, Severus. Poppy and I have already talked this through. You cannot expect all to be imbeciles, even if there are enough to count blind around us."
"Then pray tell, what that plot would be, Madame?"
"Pushing this girl to her limits to stand her out for Slytherin and antagonize the Headmaster, I assume. It hadn't escaped Poppy's notice how hard you fought against reporting anything about her condition to him."
Snape's eyes narrowed the way Anne was suddenly sure he at least attempted to look into Pince's mind. "And her condition would be…?"
"Social anxiety," – Irma Pince replied. "Hard to miss it, really. The girl is neurotic by nature and you even push her. That doesn't mean she can't make all those OWLs you are preparing to show off for Slytherin accomplishment," – she added with some snark. "We've both been there, Poppy and I, as you very well know it. The poor girl deserves some help. And if I can give her that, I will. Just like Poppy," – she held up her chin, daring Professor Snape to cross her.
He only smirked. "I'm standing here all chastised, and as you've said, debunked, Madame, please convey my utter lack of regrets to your friend," – Professor Snape answered, unphased by the way Madame Pince's gaze was throwing daggers at him. "Now, about your help to my student," – he went on, "were you honestly plotting to lure her into your home for this training? Or am I to imagine you making her Greet the Sun on the Library's floor?"
"She can very well step through the way I did if you just comply, Severus."
"And why would I sacrifice the peace of my office, Madame?"
"To buy our silence, Professor," – Irma Pince pressed her lips together, showing her stubbornness.
"Miss Rosier?" – Professor Snape turned on Anne on a whim. "Can you find the time to go with this insipid plan, determined to ruin my solace every night of the week?"
"I would try not to be a burden, sir," Anne tried to reassure him, stunned to hear such a debate about her.
"Alas, it seems inescapable," – her Professor deemed. "I will pay for these meddling witches' silence with my sacrifice if…."
Irma Pince's eyebrow shot up in a familiarly inquisitive way.
"If both you, Madame, and Poppy Pomfrey swore to keep confidence, especially abstaining from informing the Headmaster about my little plans and our arrangement."
Madame Pince rolled her eyes with a sigh. "Severus, really!"
"I mean it, Madame, you will swear and make your alliance clear on the matter. No information about any of my students, their endeavours, achievements, or issues would leave these rooms."
"You have my word," – Madame Pince sighed, then she became palpably annoyed when Professor Snape kept on waiting. "What, you need a wand oath? Here, I swear I will not cross you in any way related to Miss Rosier. Now, Severus, you will have to learn some trust."
"A little late, Madame, wouldn't you agree?" – Snape's features betrayed a story Anne was sure they wouldn't relate in front of her.
Pince's former self-confidence seemed to have deflated. "I've never expected you to forget, Rus. Now, let me go home; it was a long week."
Professor Snape stood aside from the hearth and dismissed his wards for her to step through. Madame Pince vanished in the flames after a short farewell to Anne.
"You will never utter a single word about this, Miss Rosier, or I will have my hands off of you," – Professor Snape warned after re-warding the hearth. "No more slip-ups," – he added, and his office door popped open. "I'm expecting you at eight for only ten minutes on weekdays. Have I made myself clear?"
"Yes, sir, thank you," – Anne hastily replied. "Good night, Professor!"
She had no patience for the Great Hall or the Infirmary; she ran up to her side tower, ate some hidden snacks and grabbed her guitar to calm down before returning to her dorm, turning back time for the curfew's sake.
Every day was longer than what she'd bargained for, and from now on, she would even need to add some rest before the evenings. Snape called Madame Pomfrey and Madame Pince meddling witches, and she was forced to agree. Even if they hardly scratched the surface of her real problem. Snape still never admitted to anyone that she was an Empath, he'd rather went with their theory about trying to show off her OWLs. Why was his persecution complex so bloody strong? And what the hell was he planning for Saturday before curfew?