Chapter 20
2nd Jnauary – 12th February 1994.
(16)
With all her homework and the pieces of her Muggle wardrobe that passed her father's inspection packed tightly in her enchanted backpack, Anne was glad to leave the so-called family home behind on the morning of 2nd January. Caleb promised her a Side-Along to the Hogwarts Express, and although the days since Christmas bore no more arguments, the general air of suspicions and frustrated animosity in the house had grated on her nerves.
Monty at least walked them out to the gates, and he had the decency to say an amiable farewell, surprising Caleb, which Anne clearly sensed in the air. The Imperius only hit her after she'd stepped closer and taken her brother's arm, and by the time they swirled onto a corner near the King's Cross, she felt uncommonly peaceful and warm.
"Thank Merlin, these days are over. I don't know what you're planning, A-bee, but I'll make sure not to repeat this in the future," – Caleb told her with a grimace, and she felt hard-pressed to criticize his approach:
"We should respect Father's wishes. He wants the best for the family."
"Yeah, sure," – Caleb laughed bitterly. "D'you want to see Gavin or Rachel? We still have almost an hour. You may choose."
The fuzzy warmth within Anne suggested that would make them disloyal to their father, and she absently shook her head.
"And what about that, Paul-Fellow?" Caleb offered, starting them to walk down the street slowly.
The peaceful calm got confused. Anne could sense some pain lurking under it, and she was reluctant to give the peace up for that. And peace meant to satisfy her father's wishes. She had to count those first so she could enjoy this warmth. It felt so soft, like a bubble of safety. She needed to cling to that. And Caleb threatened this with his childish whims?
"No, you should rather think about your job. You are to help Dad. He loves us. We cannot disrespect him."
Caleb stopped abruptly and searched her empty eyes.
"What are you blabbering about?"
When Anne didn't reply, he shook her, and she could sense his confusion, but the action still seemed so unbearably hostile! She winced and turned away as much as she could. The street seemed also hostile, the whole world… everything wanted her to fall, to get hurt, only her father would keep her away from the madness of it…
Madness…
Empaths go mad… they suffer…. As a last resort, she tried to retreat into the house within her mind through the thick fog that consumed the surrounding forest… she would lose way. She should ask her father about it….
Why would I ever ask him about mind magic? That belongs to Snape! – a little voice suggested, and Anne tried to make sense of the controversy. Hazily, she noted that Caleb was talking to her with growing alarm, but his words didn't register. She had to find her house!
No, your home is the safest place! – suggested the fuzzy warmth. Return to your father! Make Caleb believe him!
The tiny voice confusedly mumbled about mind magic and madness and a little house within ebony woods… or maple woods…
Flip.
Annabella looked up at her brother and shook her head to get rid of that nauseating confusion.
"I'm not feeling well," – she complained.
"Clearly. I wish we had taken a portkey. You should be looked at," Caleb said, searching her eyes for some reason with alarm and affection. "D'you trust me not to Splinch you if I try to get you to Madame Pomfrey?"
Now, that suggestion made a mess of everything again, but Annabella was less inclined to trust her father's competence… or anybody's, for that matter.
"NO!" she protested, tearing herself from her brother's hold. "I don't need anything!" – she stepped even further, with a hint of a wish to disappear, because she felt ill at ease, and confusion was bad… trusting was bad… she needed to disappear, to…
The sudden pull she felt as soon as her brother grabbed her arm was disconcerting, and later, she admired Caleb's skill to Apparate her against her will without causing harm. Still, when they landed somewhere in Knockturn under an alleyway, stinking urine and rotten things, she pushed him as far as she could.
Strangely, Caleb held onto her arm, making it impossible for her to vanish on the spot, and he was crying for someone called Mr. Everard until a wooden door opened on the right, revealing a wizard in his eighties. He wore a leather apron above his grey woollen robes, and his white hair looked a mess, but he stepped to them with unforeseen spring.
"What'd gotten into this bird, laddie?"
"She's my sister," – Caleb made it clear. "She suddenly began to babble about… things out of place… then she said she wasn't feeling right."
"Take her inside!" Mr. Everard motioned them, and Annabella noticed he had taken a good look around the alley before he followed them to the shop.
True to the name, Everard's Venoms was a small and dusty place with various phials, containers, and herbs standing in rows around a wide counter. The owner showed Caleb and the reluctant girl he pulled by the arm through a backroom that hosted various reptiles and insects in terrariums and cages to something like a sitting room at the back, with a window on the street at the other side of the house. The temperature was magically kept high so the reptiles wouldn't suffer. Still, it made the air suffocating for Annabella, who looked around anyway for an escape like one of those caged animals. If she managed to run, she could disappear and hide until she worked out what might have happened. Instead, Caleb pushed her onto a footrest and stood in a way that hid the door from sight.
Annabella began to panic, and she screamed when the old man lifted his wand, but all that happened was that a strange shine suddenly illuminated the air around her body. She could sense it pulsing, and Caleb seemed aghast.
"Dark magic, indeed," – Mr. Everard pronounced to Caleb. "Where could she get cursed?"
Cursed? While Caleb replied to the man, Annabella remembered something fuzzy and calming. She remembered the words she spoke about her father. She would never have agreed with those… and she remembered the woods. For some reason, she kept seeing a forest of maple trees, like her wand's wood. She didn't like her wand. To get rid of the image, she tried to look behind it and recognized a small house that seemed beckoning. Whatever strange daydream this was, it must be better than the scorpion she'd just seen walking inside here!
The inside of the tiny house seemed dark and dusty. She could look around, but she found the place lacking. Really, the ceiling should be taller, the walls should hold frames with paintings and memories, and there was supposed to hang a chandelier somewhere. If she could wish up a dream house, it would not look like this but would have parallel floorboards, a music room, and bookshelves, and the air would not be stalled….
Strangely, it all appeared on her whim. Annabella examined a colourful dodecagram on the wall that reminded her of myriads of things. One of those was a girl called Anne, who was an Empath and owned this place. Because it was she!
The fracture within her that divided her two selves healed that moment, and Anne had never felt more like herself. She knew if she lifted the carpet, she would find the mirror of this place with different woods around it, and she also knew she now owned them both. There wouldn't be a divide or a loss of knowledge anymore. Annabella finally understood Anne. And she was sick. In her soul.
Remembering the fog, she tiptoed to the window of the matched houses and could still see it: It looked malicious and lingered among the trees. The trees seemed to have changed too. There were ebony and maple mixed in this forest. The ebony was strangely vulnerable to the ill-smelling fog. The forest struggled against the intrusion. Anne opened the window, and with a firm no, she tried to send the fog away. It worked just like her whims conjured anything in the house. She could finally hear her brother.
"A-bee! Bloody hell, A-bee! C'mon, little swot, you cannot do this to me!"
She opened her eyes and found herself on the floor, held lamely by her brother while the old wizard struggled to drip some green liquid into her stubbornly closed mouth. She turned her face away, not trusting him.
"I'm fine," – she moaned, and Caleb chuckled with disbelief. "Let me sit!"
"That's a waste of good Wiggenwald!" – Mr. Everard grumbled, pulling the phial away with some hurt and dissatisfaction Anne could sense well in magic.
"Sorry, sir, I didn't mean to," – she breathed, then sighed.
"Whatever happened?" – Caleb alternated his glance between her and the old man.
"She was cursed, I told ya," – the wizard replied. "Missy, can you recall what it felt like? Or the colour, at least?"
"It was fuzzy," – Anne choked out. "Warm, peaceful… I wanted things I don't want… like taking you back to Father," – she looked at Caleb. "We agreed you would stay away!"
"We did," – Caleb nodded.
"But then came the Imperius," – Mr. Everard wisely told them. "Wouldn't be the first time for someone to change under it. What made you faint, Miss? The laddie says ya struggled."
Anne was reluctant to tell them about mind magic, so she dumbed it down as much as possible. "I did. I found a way… under it? Somehow,… as if I could get around it and send it away. It felt like fog and illness…."
"Your sister's a strong witch," – Mr. Everard nodded to Caleb. "Half this strength would have served much back in the war."
"What does this mean?" – Caleb stared at him, uncomprehending.
"She shook it off," – the old wizard concluded. "Let's make it sure!"
Anne sensed the strange pulsing magic about her, but the shine didn't appear this time. Mr. Everard nodded. "Good as new. Now, I'll add this to the rent, laddie. The refuge and the Wiggenwald. This is not St. Mungo's."
Caleb grimaced but nodded. "Of course, sir."
"Polite, too," – the old man chuckled. "Now take your kin and be on your way! I shouldn't mix with whatever had gotten to you."
To Anne's surprise, her brother pulled out two golden Galleons and put them on the table. "Certainly," – he said, and she could feel his grudge. "C'mon, A-bee, we should leave now."
It could have been her first time to look around in Knockturn, but Caleb took her by the arm and Apparated her to Platform Nine and three-quarters before she could even grumble. Just in time, the steam engine was already puffing clouds, and students were waving to relatives from the compartments.
"Just to check it," – Caleb turned to her. "What d'ya think about our esteemed father?"
Anne tried and failed to comprehend that her father apparently had sent an Unforgivable Curse at her. It also almost worked!
"That he is a prize berk, and you shouldn't approach him within a mile without me or Gavin there with you."
"Good girl," Caleb sighed and kissed her forehead. It was so very unlike him. Anne understood how much of a fright she must have given him.
"You will not retaliate, will you?"
"I will not risk another wand making you promises," – her brother grinned at her, "but I will wait for the time and place."
The Hogwarts Express piped, and Anne knew she had no time to argue.
"Caleb!" – she stared instead, desperately wishing for reassurance that the whole world wouldn't turn arse over teakettle while she played around with classwork at Hogwarts.
"I will avoid him," – he grumbled, rolling his eyes. "Promise. Now go!"
Anne had to skip to reach the train, but she was safe in a compartment within ten minutes, with King's Cross fading behind. Thankfully, the train was never as packed after the winter break as after the summer. She thought about the "holiday," and it was too much. Her tears pooled up and fell uncalled but unstoppable, and she grieved for her family and for a lost love for Paul. There was no way back to an innocent boy like he was. There was no way back to the family home, to childhood, to peace. Annabella and Anne weren't that different anymore. Both aspects of her were determined to survive, and being a student at Hogwarts might offer some temporary comfort. Still, eventually, she needed to land herself the means to save herself because no one else would do that in her stead.
When Sophie and Miranda found her, she was over her tears. They were both bursting with cheerful anticipation to share holiday stories and hear about the gift she should have gotten for her mum. That last one finally broke through her apathy.
"Yeah, it was,"- she began, but for the first time in her life, she wasn't ready to finish a lie for her friends' benefit. "It didn't work out as it should have," – she told them instead. "She fell ill. My Gran's also ill. I think she might die, and I don't want to talk about it!"
At least that wasn't a lie. Miranda held her hand, and Sophie cooed nonsense until the Trolley Witch showed up. They drowned all their emotions with chocolate frogs, tearing the cards and throwing them away, but the one Sophie found with Nimue and gave to Anne which made her smile.
The New Year at Hogwarts started with difficulties. The Infirmary was packed with various cases of stomach flu and frog flu, some sore throats, and other typical holiday maladies. Poppy tried to separate the genuine cases from those students who only wished to win additional time to finish homework they hadn't bothered with at Christmas.
Mr. Filch's calendar was also full of the tedious repairs on the Gryffindor portrait, and he only lectured Anne on Muggle Physics while mending the Fat Lady's canvas, which had been torn to ribbons, and restoring the background. Anne admired his skill and struggled with Newton's Laws.
Madame Pince had an influx of fifth- and seventh-years because now all of them were aware of the date and their families' expectations. The students were so busy cramming even during the lunch breaks that she hardly had time to discuss Anne's readings, not daring to leave the Library unsupervised for a second. The addition to the crowd was that strange Gryffindor witch Anne kept seeing using a Time Turner since the last term had begun. She looked haggard, and she read about Magical Law.
There was no good reason for a third year to occupy her time like that, and Anne was curious enough to peek into her notes when she fell asleep: Legal procedures of the Wizengamot; Beasts or Creatures? A Short Compendium by Newt Scamander; Forgotten cases of the Beast Supervision – and the last two she couldn't read with the girl's hair fanning over the table and the titles.
"She's complaining about the young Malfoy boy," Madame Pince explained at the end of January when she finally had some free time after hours for their usual discussions. "I wish she had asked. Alas, I only overheard her exchanging words with Professor Hagrid."
Anne tried not to stare because this was the closest Pince had ever come to gossiping. Instead, she risked asking what the matter could be. Madame Pince seemed astonished she couldn't find out:
"Why, the Malfoys put the case of that hippogriff before the Wizengamot! I thought it was well-known in your Common Room, Miss Rosier!"
Anne nodded with a hint of confusion. It was indeed common knowledge, but she'd never thought it over. She had lessons with the groundkeeper, too, and it was only plain to sense his sorrows and frustrations. She still had never made the connection. He looked at the creatures he cared for with true devotion, not dissimilar to how one would see after their friends. The Gryff girl also reeked frustration and fatigue…
"Could you help her, Madame Pince?"
The witch pressed her lips together disapprovingly and shook her head. "I'm not in the habit of obtruding my favours. And she's never asked."
Idiot – Anne summarily thought, but since it seemed to have bothered Pince greatly, she looked up the catalogue and slipped a short reading list into the girl's book bag. Hopefully, she would believe she had forgotten about it and look up some of the titles. She'd been waiting to sense a change in the girl's demeanour. Still, soon she'd forgotten the whole issue because Poppy changed sometime after Slytherin beat Ravenclaw with a hair's breadth, demanding more precision than ever in her attempts at mediwizardry. At least Anne proved she had adequate skills by fixing smaller injuries after the match.
While Gryffindor beat Ravenclaw on the Quidditch pitch at the beginning of February, Anne used the time to visit Mr. Filch. The castle was almost empty because everyone rooted for one team or the other. Even the Slytherin students showed uncommon enthusiasm, favouring the blue team. There also was a strange bubbly feeling in the Common Room when all prepared for the day: anticipation and mischief. She was glad about it; at least she would have enough privacy to discuss her problem with her friend.
Mrs. Norris curled up in Anne's lap in the caretaker's kitchenette, and her old friend busied himself repairing and polishing an espagnolette lock that had somehow fallen off the French door that connected the greenhouses with the Charms corridor. He mumbled away in his usual comfortable annoyance, and the cat purred in Anne's lap, perfectly synchronized with the crowd roaring outside. She looked at her cooling tea and enjoyed the rare moment of serenity.
"When did you get your first job, Mr. Filch?"
He didn't look up, but the tools slowed down in his hands as he thought about the question.
"I recall that I must have been about fifteen at the time… in '39. That summer, I was selling newspapers on Golborne Road. Had to run between there and Fleet Street every morning, too. Those times I hadn't grown used to getting up that early," – he finally looked up, smirking. "What makes you ask?"
"I'm supposed to be fifteen this year," – Anne hesitantly mentioned.
"Yet you've already told me you're older than that."
"I did… I am," – she nodded. "Mr. Filch, would you believe if I said I'm about to turn seventeen in two months or so?"
"Listen to me, lass!" Filch sighed slowly, and without much enthusiasm, he finally put down the lock and his tools. "I'm not in the habit of doing favours to a lot of people, but your Professor is one of those I respect. And if he tells me I shouldn't stick my nose into your stranger habits, then I will not. I didn't when that harpy kicked me out of the Infirmary. I hadn't when the dried-up plum held you in the Library until curfew. So why should I notice such a thing now? I'm neither your confessor nor your father. Why make this my business?"
"Because I need advice, sergeant. You're the one I trust, and I don't know what to do."
"You must be in a pickle if you believe me to be your best bet. Have you thought about that?"
Anne looked into his narrowed eyes and finally saw the lines and wrinkles of amusement around them. She smiled at the old man widely. "I'd rather be in a pickle with you on my side than with an army of idiots, sergeant, and you know that it's only sensible!"
Filch huffed at the shameless flattery, picked up the locket again, and tried to hide his smile, leaning over his work. There was no use, though. An Empath could sense the warmth around his heart.
"Out with it then, but don't come back complaining!"
"I owe you, sergeant, and it will take longer to right it than I'd thought," – she cautiously began. "Things… changed. I no longer expect to receive an allowance from my family, and my brothers' circumstances have changed, too." Sensing that she was trying the old man's patience, she resolved to be blatant with a sigh: "Our father disowned Gavin. It's not widely known, and it shouldn't be. Caleb won't go home again, and neither will I."
Mr. Filch stopped his work and looked up with warning and suspicions flooding the space between them.
"Has he hurt you by any means aside from being a cowardly dolt?"
"He didn't cause harm," – Anne answered after a moment of surprise, and she silently pleaded with the sergeant to let her be. She wasn't ready to share the shameful truth because what kind of a child would just admit to being cursed by her own father?
She shrugged with unease, but if she thought Filch would ask questions, she was reminded of his rule. Argus Filch did not talk about what didn't involve him. But she could sense he was waiting.
"I shouldn't be seventeen, yet I am," –Anne went on. "I could do my OWLs and leave. Yet, officially, I'm a mere child with no rights in the world. If I could follow my instincts, I would try to find a job. I would try to pay my way, settle my debt, and make a living."
Filch watched her through narrowed eyes. "Honest instincts," – he said, but Anne could sense in magic how alarmed he was. "Yet they are not doing the job for you. I am the last to stand between a young one and hard work, but the world won't let you leave this place."
Anne let her gaze fall and only answered to Mrs. Norris' ears. "If someone convinced the world" – she chanced and didn't finish the thought. Filch was ready with the answer.
"Why would they?" – he asked. "You should ask your Professor. He's the one you'd made a deal with, isn't he? I don't need to know what it was to ask whether your leaving would defeat the purpose."
"I don't know if it would. I don't even understand him!"
"One more reason to talk to him, then,"- Filch offered, but Anne shook her head. She wasn't about to spill the tea with Snape, especially not about his once-schoolmates, Death Eaters, and murderers - like her relatives.
"Then you'd better prepare to make peace with your kin because you will keep returning to them for two more years," – Filch said with finality.
It was unacceptable, and Anne soon left him to his lock to polish away in peace. She had enough on her plate anyway. Paul didn't take her letter well. She tried to convince him that it didn't work out and that she could not see him during the winter break, but he doubted both. Caleb wrote about visiting her the next Hogsmeade weekend. The seventh year demanded personalized schedules for their NEWT studies. And Poppy took up the habit of testing her on various aspects of Healing Magic.
That night at the Infirmary was slow, especially compared to the uproar in the Common Room she'd just lived through before turning back the time. The Malfoy gang lost fifty points for the House with a silly prank. Impersonating Dementors was admittedly funny, but risking a student's life was controversial, even if that student happened to be the Boy-Who-Lived. So, the upper years didn't enjoy the joke.
Anne guessed it must have been different to be the boy's year mate. She was still with Sophie when she pointed out how lucky the boy was to know some advanced spells. Heck, even if they couldn't summon a Patronus, it was a straight miracle he could pull it off. The other miracle was seeing Draco alive and walking after their House's Head chewed him out. Obviously, Snape's godfatherly devotion didn't extend to accepting idiocy.
After closing up the shop – meaning checking on the students in the ward, cleaning the phials, and tidying the storage cabinets – Poppy herded her into her office to test her on healing spells, yet again. She could only draw Anapneo, for lack of a practice dummy, but she had to set right the rat skeleton Poppy produced from her drawer with a Ferula, then with a Brackium Emendo. The Episkey was only a chance for a short reprieve before an Ossio Dispersimus was rebuilt with an Ossio Aedifice. She knew the most challenging part was yet to come. Poppy always left the Experse Doloris, Somnus, Rennervate and Reparifors Charms for the last, knowing the psychological strain they put on the caster.
Before they could reach those, the hearth outside shone with green flames, and Professor McGonagall's hushed but urgent voice called for the mediwitch's attention.
"What happened, Minerva?"
"Sirius Black attacked again. I couldn't reach Severus' hearth. Is he with you?"
"I'll call him," Poppy said, crunching by the fire. She waved for Anne to fetch her Professor from the Brewing Room. "Did somebody see him? Are all the children well?"
"Ron Weasley saw and alerted us all," – Anne heard McGonagall's voice from the hearth. "Merlin, I almost doubted his words, but this abysmal mockery of a painting admitted he'd let the scoundrel through, I–"
The storage room walls excluded the rest of the gossip, which Anne regretted but was more concerned about disturbing Snape. When she knocked on the door, she expected a dragon.
Something crashed on the stone floor, and the sound was followed with ungodly cursing. Some mumbling, probably a spell or two… then steps, and the door tore open.
"What!"
"Professor McGonagall is looking for you, sir, because Sirius Black attacked the castle again," – Anne gabbled as quickly as she could.
For a second, he only stared at her, then Anne felt the tickling at the back of her skull, and she produced the short memory of Poppy crouching by the fire just moments ago, not hiding her annoyance over his method.
"I'm telling the truth, sir!"
A detonation of fury, frustration, and vengeance suddenly filled the air, and Snape hurried out to the witches with a snarl.
"If you're capable of a Stasis Charm, I need three of those placed, girl!" – he growled back from the storage room's backdoor before he disappeared, surprising Anne to no end.
Nimue's tiny panties! What a bloody honour! – a little voice snickered in her mind, and Anne tiptoed into the lab, still feeling like an intruder after months of being banned from here whenever Snape took over. The middle-sized copper cauldron stood on the main workbench surrounded by half-chopped lion's teeth and something like powdered bezoars. It was bubbling ominously and had a shade like the windy sunsets. Anne cast the first Stasis charm and looked around for the next two targets.
A small cauldron, probably iron, and something yellowish like… after the smell of it, Anne thought it must be a simple brew of setwall. She cast the Stasis over it, as required, and looked on. There were no more cauldrons. On the right from the copper cauldron, she saw carefully prepared stone bawls with honeybee pollen, hydrangea, carnation, lavender petals, lily roots… Wait a minute!
Anne cast a hasty Stasis Charm over the stone bowls so the petals wouldn't contaminate or get blown off by the draught and turned around to reassess the ingredients. Flowers of truth and honesty, with the root of pureness, valerian tincture, dandelion roots and petals, and aconite – also known as WOLFSBANE!
Anne gasped as loud as a small yelp of surprise and horror when she recognized the ingredients of the Wolfsbane Potion and deduced that it could only have a need if there was a WEREWOLF!
SWEET HOLY LAST CRY OF INNOCENCE! A WEREWREWOLF WAS AROUND!
Staggering with shock and fear, Anne turned out from the Brewing Room with a distant aim to alert people… to tell somebody… anybody… to –
"Duck, hold the fort while I see that first year in the Hufflepuff quarters! No one is to leave the Common Rooms under the circumstances." – Poppy met up with her at the storage room's door. "I won't be long, but for all that is good, don't you leave here! That horrible mockery of a man may strike anywhere. Merlin, help us!"
Clutching her wand, she hurried away, and Anne remained with her mortal fear and six sleeping students in the ward, watching the shadows in every corner for either a murderer or a werewolf. At the moment, she would have chosen to meet up with Black to avoid the beast!
For the love of the old gods, what were they thinking?!
Anne paced for a while to rid herself of her nerves, then hid in the office because that seemed safer…, but also more selfish… What would she do with six kids if the werewolf or the killer showed up here?! She conjured a small chair outside the office door and sat down, pulling herself as small as possible and hugging her knees. Her ebony wand dangled in her hand, and she kept recalling the most offensive spells she'd ever known. Perhaps the one against Erklings would do, but would the ground swallow the bastard if she cast on the third floor? Maybe a Reducto then….
Time seemed to crawl, or she just didn't sense its passing. To cast a Tempus was out of the question. She tried to keep her wand ready every second. They would come… they might come… A ward full of invalids must be an easy target, and if any of the foul things sensed she was alone… Sweet Nimue, where was Poppy? She wasn't sorted into bloody Gryffindor!
Shuddering with fear, Anne eventually convinced herself to loosen up a little. She'd read enough DADA papers to know panic wouldn't help her. The Conjucitivitis spell worked on dragons. Probably, it would slow down a werewolf, too. Then she would scream at the top of her lungs till everyone woke up and fled. Only little Teddy Cochran would be stuck with the Sleeping Draught he received with the Skele-Gro. She was about to make up a plan for how to evacuate the boy when the flames in the hearth turned green, and Anne shot her first Stupefy blindly into them.
"Fuck! What the-"
The voice seemed eerily familiar, and Anne's panic redoubled before she hurried to the Floo, almost colliding with her House's Head as he emerged from the green flames, wand in hand.
"Professor Snape!" She gasped, still holding her wand against him but forgetting about it to the point she was surprised he had halted.
"Who did you expect?" – his unfriendly tone promised no good, just like his raised eyebrow looked unsettling.
"The- the werewolf," – Anne finally realized she was holding him at wand point and hastily lowered her arm. "Or the killer," – she added. "I apologize, sir."
Strangely, it seemed she caused Snape a sudden cheer; at least his dark satisfaction filled the air about them, and his lips pulled into a wide smirk that counted as a grin for him. The wand disappeared from his hand so swiftly Anne couldn't even see where it was hidden.
"No need," – he nodded, then with a small inclining of his head, he commanded Anne to follow him behind the storage closet. "If you work on your aim, we won't worry about this wing in the future," – he remarked, letting the girl pass by his outstretched arm as he held the Brewing Room's door. "Recognizing potions, Rosier?"
Surprised by the friendly tone, Anne shyly stared at the stone floor. "It was- It wasn't hard, sir."
Snape walked around in the Brewing Room checking the Stasis Charms, then letting out a long, tired sigh, he turned back to Anne. "Not hard indeed," – he repeated. "What are you going to do about it?" – he suddenly demanded.
She swallowed hard and felt the panic crawling back up her spine. "People should know. Everyone should know so they could escape!"- she stared into Snape's eyes, trembling with fear and determination. He didn't miss either of those. She could feel his undivided attention, a hint of wariness, and some fury, but that didn't seem to be aimed at her.
"And what are you about to tell them? That you saw a potion? When? What business did you have in this lab?"
"I might get punished for being where I wasn't supposed to," – Anne hesitated. "At least not supposed by the majority of the world… but… they still should know."
"Would you take punishment to tell then?" – he challenged, and Anne knew his words were never empty. If he was to act unfairly, she had nothing to make him change his mind.
Now, she couldn't sense Snape's emotions anymore. Somehow, it only added to her awakening ire. "My person is less important than to avoid such a threat. Sir."
She saw the doubts and the pity in his eyes, even if she couldn't sense them. "Do you believe that?"
"Yes."
Perplexingly, Snape huffed, shook his head, and turned halfway away, averting his eyes. "Listen here, Rosier, it doesn't matter if I agree with you or not. I forbid you to tell."
Anne almost choked upon his words. They made no sense, yet they made perfect sense. He's been brewing this potion for the last five months, and no one was the wiser. Poppy should know, though, she suddenly realized. Yet she didn't say a word either. Anne kept staring at the Professor, trying to make sense of the man. He was working his arse off, but still, he undertook such a binding duty. He obviously agreed with her and hated to keep the secret. Otherwise, he wouldn't have phrased the ban the way he did. Was he expecting her to go against him? It was nonsense. He had no reason…
Snape slowly turned his head to examine her face while she was thinking. Anne didn't know what her features displayed, but she wasn't ready to talk.
Why would someone go against his conviction like that? Why would she, really? Except Snape had authority over her, and she recalled that he was brewing on Dumbledore's order. It was Dumbledore's potion – she repeated to herself with growing fright. Then she gasped. When Miranda mentioned how Snape was off-hinge, she told his words about Lupin being such an abysmal Professor he couldn't make them recognize a dark creature from a first-year textbook.
"Why?" – she burst out. "Because it's Dumbledore or Lupin? Which is the werewolf?"
With amusement masked as uncharacteristic patience, Snape lifted an eyebrow: "What do you think?"
Anne tried to tap the air about him, but he was closed as a shell despite his expression, which had never been more open. She did amuse him and must have given him that dark satisfaction she had sensed earlier. She wished to understand why.
"The Headmaster was here last year and before, and I haven't seen you brewing, sir. So either he was bitten over the summer, which is unlikely because I've read that the major pack of werewolves in Britain specialized in young children and infants, or it is Lupin…" – she suddenly remembered the substituted classes and gasped with the force of recognition. "It is Professor Lupin! Who would make a werewolf teach in a school?! Why? This is nuts! The parents should know! The Ministry should know! Dumbledore cannot do this!"
Snape held her gaze unblinking, and when she finished, he only said: "And yet I forbid you to tell."
Anne panted with a sudden urge to claw at his face or hit him, which Snape must have realized because his lips turned down bitterly, but he still held her gaze. For the first time, she couldn't save the question, and she didn't mind if he knew he pushed her to her limits.
"WHY?"
On her demanding tone, Snape's eyes narrowed, and he finally stepped closer. She could sense his anger again, which was probably too great to subdue, or he just didn't care anymore.
"Because," – he began in a voice low as a rumble – "if I wasn't allowed to out him for these past eighteen years, you are not allowed to forestall me and ruin the fun."
Anne's eyes might have rounded on the word he chose, but what kept her silent was the bitter hate and vengeance Snape finally didn't cover with any attempt to Occlude. This was personal, and if she stepped against him, she would cease to be a student and upgrade herself to an enemy. And Anne wasn't ready for an enemy like him.
"Sir, I don't like this," – she mumbled. "Are you certain he's taking all the brews?"
The intensity in Snape's gaze relented, and he nodded to Anne's belated surprise. In retrospect, she was astonished to get away with such a question. It almost made her re-evaluate her opinion about Filch's advice, but then Snape asked after Poppy and her problems had to retake a backseat.
"She was called to the Hufflepuff Common Room. She said she wouldn't be long, sir."
She felt his alarm sooner than she heard him.
"When was this?"
"I'm unsure, sir, just after I finished with the Stasis Charms."
"That couldn't take longer than fifteen minutes even with your sniffling around," – he mumbled in a strained voice as if to himself, and next she looked, he was out of the door.
All Slytherin knew their Head of House was abrupt and episodic, but this display was over the top even for him. At least if there wasn't a valid reason to worry for Poppy, which now kept Anne alert more than any of the other threats. There was a werewolf, but she had sat in his classes for these last months without a problem. To such a beast, she would have considered him boring, although he did have a penchant for favouring dark creatures over spell work. Anne still shuddered to recall the lesson when he produced a Boggart and was grateful for the Ravenclaws for their enthusiasm to stand in line to defeat it. She had multiple fears. She didn't wish to know which was the deepest.
Poppy arrived alone and contrite. She wished she had notified Anne about the troll guards on the corridors that kept her with the Hufflepuffs even after the Headmaster called off the search, and Snape also updated her about the Wolfsbane incident.
"I've known Remus Lupin since he was too short for a formal school robe," she said. "If all the werewolves were like him, the Ministry wouldn't try to sanction them as half breeds."
"But why does Professor Snape hate him so much if he's…" – Anne faltered because calling a werewolf tame or well-mannered both seemed ridiculous. "If he's like this," – she finished instead.
Poppy seemed to measure her with a glance, then she shook her head with a sigh. "I wish I could tell you, duck, I honestly wish."
Whatever she omitted, her sorrow filled the air. It still startled Anne when she realized in her next Defence class that Lupin was aware she knew his secret. He didn't ask her a question but kept looking her way until he asked her to stay behind when the class was over. Anne tried to look calm and unassuming for her classmates' sake. The last thing she needed was any of them asking questions she wasn't allowed to answer. She still couldn't see why everyone was so laid back about such a thing – a werewolf casually teaching at a school!
The door closed behind the last student with a soft thud, and all to hear in the room was the chirping of the caged bloodsucking chiropteran and the slow chewing noise from the Dugbog's terrarium. Anne couldn't sense the mortal fear of the Mandrake it had been eating since the second half of the class. The poor creature must have fainted before the Dugbog got through his leaves.
"Thank you, Miss Rosier, for staying behind," – Professor Lupin gently cleared his throat before stepping closer, but he halted when Anne startled and sat on the top of a nearby desk instead, with a dissatisfied grunt. "I assure you, I have no intention to frighten or hurt you," – he softly carried on, but when Anne didn't reply or look at him, he sighed.
"You are a very clever young witch, Annabella, are you? I hear you also help out at the Infirmary. I almost wish we had this conversation there. Madame Pomfrey knows how many days I'd spent within those walls in my youth, and were it not for this new potion, we would have met there."
Anne's eyes rounded out with the memory of her horror some nights before. Had Professor Lupin showed up that night, she wished her aim was better indeed!
"I already promised to keep your secret. Sir," –she added the honorific as an afterthought only to satisfy that curious hint of protectiveness she could sense in Lupin, not daring to search for its origins.
Professor Lupin smiled then. He surely must have meant it in a benevolent way. "Yes, I've heard about that and wish to express my appreciation. Also… I thought you might have questions…"
Anne understood he kept his voice intentionally soft to soothe her, but she also caught on his less noble emotions: he was calculating, alarmed, and, again, curiously protective. As if it wasn't him who threatened Anne, but he thought it was the other way around. She tried to grab after this feeling, and her glance wandered to look into Lupin's light eyes. On the surface of his thoughts, she recognized the Potter boy. It was absurd. How would she threaten the Boy-who-lived by any means or measure?
"Did Professor Snape tell you about that?"
"Professor Snape?" – Lupin obviously found the idea funny. "No, Annabella, Professor Snape didn't mention you. I'm surprised if he speaks ten words to me on a better week. No," – he swallowed his amusement. "However, Poppy was worried about our future lessons. You see, Annabella, I see classes as cooperation between me and my students. I wouldn't jeopardize this partnership with
misunderstandings," – he overemphasised the words.
Anne paled at the thought of partnering with a werewolf, but Slytherin didn't burn bridges if that wasn't necessary. "I imagine you didn't choose your predicament, Professor," – she faltered out.
"I didn't." The Professor looked suddenly very serious. "You might have heard about Fenrir Greyback, Miss Rosier. He bit me before I reached the age of six. If it wasn't for Albus Dumbledore, I wouldn't have received an education, and if it wasn't for Poppy Pomfrey, I wouldn't have had the stamina to finish this school."
Despite his apparent wish to call for her empathy, Anne didn't like how he played with her name. "And if not for Professor Snape, you couldn't teach at Hogwarts," – she softly pointed out, only to irk him.
The amusement returned to the Professor's expression, but only outwardly. She couldn't sense a clue of it in the air this time. "No, without his efforts, I obviously couldn't. Unfortunately, his exceptional skills in brewing such a difficult potion no other place than at the Infirmary has mixed you up with these circumstances."
Anne raised only an eyebrow, noticing how her worries and alarm became suddenly Snape's fault instead of the werewolf's. She would have spotted his game even if the resentment she sensed in him didn't give her a clue.
"Unfortunately," – she repeated. "Am I really allowed to ask you questions, sir?"
Professor Lupin leaned closer on the top of the desk with interest. "Certainly,
Annabella. This discussion is to make you feel at ease."
"Thank you, sir," – Anne managed to smile, dismissing the idea to ask whether her name irritated him. She had a bigger chip: "If you are not close friends with Professor Snape, how come he has known about your condition for eighteen years and yet he didn't mention it to a soul?"
She could sense she had given a severe pause to her Professor even before he adjusted his seat as if he wished to stand up and walk around the room or before he cleared his throat and licked his lips, wearing a sudden frown.
"What did he tell you about his reasons?" – he tried for a nonchalant tone. Gryffindors just can't play pretend – Anne thought and refrained from smirking.
"Nothing, Professor, I'm only aware of the fact."
"Well, I don't suggest you ask him," – Professor Lupin looked her firmly in the eye. "Severus might find the question uncomfortable." He paused and pinned a smile on his face. "I hope we are not to have any misunderstandings, Annabella. Your Professor is very keen on presenting me with my potion at every turn."
"Yes, I trust him," – Anne smiled with sweet politeness.
"I would never try to deceive you into believing us friends," Professor Lupin said after clearing his throat. "But we know each other for a long time with Professor Snape. And as adults, we appreciate each other's strengths and flaws… for the sake of cooperation."
"Cooperation," – she nodded, trying to cut this discussion short.
"You seem such a mature young witch to your age, Annabella. I'm confident we would be able to cooperate in our classes."
"Of course, Professor," she replied, quickly gathering her book bag.
There wasn't anything else to politely say. Just be kind and never forget your potions. And do you happen to also know any vampires among the staff? Neither seemed a good note to finish this conversation, and she longed to get out of the classroom.
"I'm delighted to hear that," – Professor Lupin smiled and finally stood to open the door for her. Anne wistfully thought about Snape's practice of just lifting a wand and letting his door pop open while she inched by the werewolf and got through the threshold.
Whatever he wished her to believe, her skin was practically prickling with fear. Leaving Hogwarts behind couldn't come soon enough! If only she had a job to pay rent like her brothers! Then, her sole problem would remain her father's lack of consent. Oh, shite. Life was only getting crazier and more complicated instead of smoothing out like she imagined adulthood would be.
Honestly, she could do foul things to Snape at the moment because being rescued as a struggling Empath shouldn't have meant being stuck at her mid-level schooling as an adult, too… who was she supposed to talk to? Sophie was her equal at the moment, but she knew she would use her Time-Turner again and again until she might lose her too. By her age, she should be preparing for her NEWTs with Miranda, and no one was the wiser! She supposed she could also take them with the amount of homework she'd researched for others over the years! Even if she lacked practice.
But then, it wasn't Snape's fault. She called this whole mess upon herself and should perhaps stop the train before it wrecked by returning the Time-Turner. But what would that mean? She couldn't do all her classes, not even the homework business, her only income, and couldn't receive tutelage from Pince. She would sink back to the crowd, where she might belong, only to wait three years in dull boredom. Without money, at least if she didn't plan to return to her family home, accepting her father's rules. That couldn't be the way!
Instead, she tried to focus on Caleb's imminent Apparition lesson in Hogsmeade and its possible implications. Hogwarts was a madhouse with a werewolf, countless secrets, bloody trolls on the corridors, and leadership that employed beasts, but she wasn't about to stay and suffer it anymore.
"All right, so there was this bloke from the Ministry, blabbering nonsense, but he was right about one thing: if you don't focus completely, you could truly leave your head behind," Caleb spoke in Mr. Sprout's back garden with uncharacteristic strictness. Or perhaps he changed – Anne mused. Her brother had never been known for displaying emotions or taking things seriously, but Anne saw the reason for these minor alterations in his personality. She wondered –
"A-bee, I just said, focus! Merlin's pants, I thought you were a swot enough to grab that!"
She shook off her thoughts and nodded. "Sure, sorry. Whatever shall I focus on?"
"Magic is intention. Some, I heard, could do this as children when they wished to get away. Can you imagine how much a kid should wish to escape to do such advanced magic? It's crazy! But they sometimes do it!"
Anne thought about her childhood habit of disappearing when she felt overwhelmed, and she only bit her lips together, nodding.
"I'm just saying you're good enough to do it. Much sillier people learn."
Anne grimaced. "Thanks a lot."
"Hey, I –"
"What shall I focus on, Caleb?" – she asked him again with an exasperated eye roll.
"Right," –he cleared his throat again. "It's just strange, you know? Usually, you are the one to lecture… so, you see that circle I drew on the soil there?"
She nodded.
"Well, get into it!"
"What?"
"Your life depends on it. You must appear there. Turn on your heel like I showed you, and just want it!"
"Just want it?"
"Did I stutter?"
Anne huffed and turned on her heel, focusing on her heel - so obviously nothing happened, but at least she believed she had mastered the move. She took a deep breath and looked at the circle. She needed to get there.
She turned on her heel and teetered. When Caleb tried to speak, she shushed him. She was focusing on the turn - a mistake. Okay. Before her next turn, she believed she should assess the whole thing. Obviously, focus was necessary, and her brother mentioned intention. When she disappeared, she intended to disappear. She wished for nothing else in the world but to get swallowed into invisibility. Probably that's why she had learned the Disillusionment Charm so easily… she recalled that desperate wish, the need to just get away and –
"Oh, WOW, A-bee, that's… aw- Shite! Where are you?! Oh, bloody hell! I should have never –"
"Relax, you dunderhead, I'm standing right here!" – she called out to him, choking on laughter but touching an invisible hand on his shoulder. "I messed up. Give me a minute!"
As soon as she could figure out how Anne reappeared in the same spot she had been standing all along, Caleb pulled her by the ponytail like he used to when they were five and nine.
"You're a disgrace,"- he hissed. "An ugly, wicked wretch! Why the hell did you have to do this?!"
Anne screamed with pain and hysterical laughter. "Get off me, you berk! I didn't mean to!"
"I hate you," – her brother told her with conviction. "One more move like that, and you can wait for Gavin to come up here by Easter."
"If you leave, I will practice alone," – she sniffed now with annoyance.
"Hardly, if I curse you first," – Caleb deemed. "Now get at it! I would love to tell him you suck at this and couldn't do it!"
Anne lifted a hand to strike him on his arm, but Caleb turned on his heel and appeared a good five metres away in the circle. "You'd have to catch me first, lamely-A-bee!"
She huffed at the old nickname the boys used to call her in their garden and turned on her heel, only to lose balance and fall on her backside. When Caleb laughed up, no other wish remained in her but to catch him and shut him up. She jumped and turned almost mid-air, and when she felt a strange strangling sensation, she got so frightened her sole wish was to appear in that blasted circle alive and whole!
Dizzily, she looked around when the pressure eased and tried to find the source of that horribly loud crack.
"That's a good girl!" – Caleb celebrated at her side and tried to hug her, but her fists came strongly against his chest!
"You're horrible and mean, and I never want to play with you!"
"Tell on me then," – Caleb laughed. "You know how to do that!"
Before his sister lifted another fist, he popped away to the other side of the garden. Ultimately, they played chase for about an hour, and the crack she'd heard for the first time slowly subdued to sound like a pop.
Finally, she leaned over a pot of asphodels, clutching her side and panting.
"I'm done," – she forced out the words. "This is murder. I don't care if you're a berk anymore."
Caleb came to her, grinning and filling the air around them with pride and cheer.
"I haven't had this much fun since fifth year," – he admitted. "You're okay, A-bee. Don't believe anyone who tells you other."
She didn't feel okay. She felt wrung-out and starving, and she told him so, so Caleb offered her a drink at the Hog's Head.
"Gavin said there are nasty folks," – Anne hesitated.
"Sure," – his brother grinned. "But we have nothing to hide, so let them be. Once you need to see them!"
And seeing them, she did. The Hog's Head was less packed than the Three Broomsticks but had more to offer to gawk at. Only, she was uninclined to stare at all, especially after a woman – witch? – dressed like an ancient mummy stared back at her with those glittering yellow eyes. The glasses looked dirty, and the air smelled like a stable.
"This one's safe. Drink up," – Caleb gave her a fire whisky. "Both alcohol and fire are germicides," – he snickered in a low voice, and Anne did her best not to grimace because the long-bearded bartender still stared as if he had heard them.
"I so hope this is not the kind of establishment you had favoured when you went astray some years ago," – she told her brother when he finally agreed to leave. "I would have worried more if I knew such places existed in reality."
Caleb laughed at her. "You want to know what kind of places exist? I can give you a tour someday," – he said as if that was a joke. However, Anne found herself curious enough, and by the time they made it to the Hogwarts gates, she convinced her brother to make good on his promise next time.
"You can Apparate now, so we can ramble around a bit," – he shrugged. "But only if you do as I say and don't be overly friendly with anyone. I would hate to watch that."
"Jealous? I should think someday a gal would come to be friendly with you, too, berk. Maybe a blind saint with a complex to save you?" – Anne teased.
"Not one of those I found had anything to save another," – Caleb told her, not rising to the bait. "They're usually looking for a saviour themselves."
"Pity," – Anne said now with a hint of seriousness. "You know what? Take me out rambling, and we can forget them."
"That bad with that Paul guy?"
Anne shrugged. "He's nice, but too nice. I wasn't into being saved, you see."
"Just don't be a blind saint," – her brother warned her. "I'll look at the registry back at work, but if you haven't received an owl for our playing around yet, I doubt they watch for underage Apparations."
She was grateful for Caleb's new job's perks because, working at the Department of Transportation, he could see if her ebony wand left a trail behind. Anne hugged him with a smile. She was about to thank him when her brother also produced a shrunken package from his cloak's pocket and handed it to her.
"Gavin helped to buy these. Don't open it until you're in your dorm."
"What is it?" – Anne tried to measure the package, but it was too small to give a clue.
"Well, not a Christmas present, but something we thought of…" – Caleb shrugged. "Write to Gavin if you want to. He will show me."
Anne nodded and pocketed the package. Mr. Everard wasn't a fan of frequent owls; they'd already established that. Her brothers agreed that even Mr. Smith fared better with owls.
Climbing up the hill to the castle, she once waved back and saw Caleb disappearing from the gates. The Firewhisky and the memory of her success heated her the same, and when she ran into the Carrow girls in the Entrance Hall, she didn't give them any mind.
"What business did you have in the Hogs Head? We saw you!" – Flora asked her, a little too loudly for her taste.
"Being a tourist," – Anne tried to shrug her off.
"Sure, and you also want us to believe that!" – Flora cackled, stepping closer. "I only saw one of your brothers. Has the other one run to the hills already?"
"I've already told you to stay away from my brothers," – Anne hissed with sudden alarm. She had no idea how the Carrows would have heard about their family business.
"Your father is a shameful coward. Don't you think people wouldn't see it!" – Flora told her in an ominously low voice. "Dorothea Travers is too fine a witch to be threatened, you know."
Anne recalled her aunt's letter, as she had gathered, probably to Dorothea Travers, and her brother's, Sloan's, struggles in the Wizengamot that turned old Haemophilus Macmillan against their father. She had no idea where the Carrows stood in this mess, though.
"Are you friends with ol' Dotty?" – she plastered a smile and tried to check the name she had seen in that letter.
"You should learn some respect!" – Flora cried, and Anne sensed her hatred and ill will seconds before she pulled her wand.
Falling over by a Trip Jinx, she also noted she should have used that warning to reach for her wand. Alas, when her hand slipped into her cloak's pocket, she could only grab the boys' package, which made everybody laugh around her.
Professor Lupin approached from the Great Hall and asked about the commotion, and she had to be the one telling him she had only slipped on the marble floor. When he offered her a hand to help her stand up, Anne's courage failed, and she scrambled backwards, crawling to get away, which made Flora and Hestia roar up with laughter. Malcolm Urquhart also came to her aid.
It was like a nightmare, but then Professor Snape approached, too, in a flourish of billowing blackness, asking the meaning of the display, and she almost fell back on her bum again when the mixed emotions of her two teachers reached her senses.
"Your student slipped, I gather," – Lupin informed Snape, and Anne finally stood on her feet, far enough from her classmates to subtly find her wand.
Snape's gaze only flashed at her for a millisecond before he stepped into the crowd.
"Well, that's a reason for a gathering! Misses Carrows, Mr. Urquhart, thank you, you are dismissed. Rosier, on your way to the Common Room, I imagine."
"Yes, sir."
"This girl must be a great help for Poppy," – Anne heard Lupin telling her House's Head while people finally dispersed. Surprised by his curiosity, she halted, which seemed to encircle her teachers like a bubble. It clashed with Snape's distrust and contempt.
"You must have deduced that from her clumsiness, I'm sure," – Professor Snape replied with venom.
"Oh, I wouldn't think it was clumsiness but rather a disagreement among your students. I was about to learn more of their discord when you interrupted."
"Had they told you that?" – Snape challenged.
"I don't need to be told when I see bullying in the corridors."
"I'm sure about that, Lupin. Alas, your expertise fails you. Rosier is one of the most useless slobbers I've ever had the misfortune to endure. A blessing if Poppy can put up with her presence where we keep the dittany. Anything else?"
Anne held her distance and supposed that she only reinforced her professor's words in her attempt to mask her lagging behind as she fumbled with her cloak. They would have had the edge to bite her if she couldn't sense a hint of fright and a generous dash of protectiveness standing in Lupin's way. She had no idea what might have called for those emotions, but she had sense enough to finally hurry down the stairs to her dorm.
Her blissfully empty dorm, to be precise. So she could finally look at her presents:
"Engorgio!"
The package grew on her bed till it covered her pillow, and she greedily attacked the linen string. Two new school robes and the outfit Kelly had lent her before Christmas fell out of the wrappings, with a beautiful red and black purse. It held two hundred Galleons, a note with a promise for more, and a thank you card for Mr. Filch. Anne grinned madly and instinctively knew that the last items came from Gavin and the Smiths. She also expected Filch to have kittens when she'd presented him with a Muggle card after a Hogsmeade day!
Giddy with anticipation, she hurried into the small bathroom to celebrate the new robes by wearing them already, but not before she hid all her presents in her trunk. She enforced the Colloportus and the various Antitheft Charms by renewing the Fire-protection. Her ebony wand was overworked that day, but she would never trust a Carrow again.