A/N: It's not mine. The original story and characters belong to Rowling. I make no money from this. I just enjoy having some fun.
Fair Warning: Severus Snape may seem slightly OC in this (and the next few) chapter(s), which will have a reason the plot will explain. I will not explain it more. Please bear with me if you can, and know that he wouldn't slip out of character too much—maybe just loosen up a little—with a reason he will later explain.
More notes at the end, please try to enjoy!
TN_ Chapter 27.
Summer 1994.
(18)
August began with nuisances grating on Anne's nerves on all fronts. Gavin hated being left out, Caleb lacked the patience to play host, and Snape showed up at school grounds even if everyone was convinced he'd disappeared for the month, rolling his eyes on Anne's explanation to Professor Sprout about her two days' leave. Of course.
Because how could she entertain her wizarding acquaintance with tales about Muggle football? Then, Mediwitch Brunswick rescheduled her from ingredient preparation in the Alchemy Room to the Artefacts Accidents section under Mediwizard Dagworth.
At least Rachel regained her vitality with their daily walks. She even replied to her publisher and finally agreed to sit down and talk about the unfinished second volume of her essays. Anne's friendship with the Smiths bloomed, and she celebrated George's new assignment.
"Dad's only woe is missing the games with all the new responsibilities," – Kelly explained to Anne on their way to the seamstress. "After that trip to Dundalk, I'm almost tempted to nick his season pass and annoy him by going in his stead."
Anne laughed with her, grateful for the fun. Life was sorely lacking that lately. "You wouldn't dare!" – she teased. "Maybe Gavin should."
"Gavin?" – Kelly laughed. "Anne, your brother couldn't care less about football. He's only pretending for my Dad's sake. But you liked it, didn't you?"
"The match or the trip?" – Anne tried to win some time. A well-behaved young witch wasn't supposed to scream her lungs out among Muggles for a ballgame, but the energy she'd sensed that day mesmerised her.
"Both?" – Kelly offered. "Dad had thoroughly converted you, don't even try to deny it. He's even more successful with you than he was with me."
"Perhaps," Anne blushed, but she didn't even know why. It felt too personal to share the depth of her experience. Talking about Dan would have been less intimate… strangely. She had no regrets, even if the boy had been unavailable since he visited the Lakes with his friends.
The Smith women's seamstress was a relatively young woman in a tiny shop, where they now entered, and Anne finally had thoughtless fun trying up what she'd only seen in Rose's sketchbook. One of the skirts she thought was way too short, but everyone swore she should be braver about it.
"And it's red," – Kelly railed her. "Dan might not be here to appreciate it, but you could try what it's worth if we nicked Dad's pass!"
Anne blushed again and quickly changed. "We're just friends with Dan, you know," – she explained for the umpteenth time, but Kelly only giggled, and from that point, the afternoon didn't improve. It was still better than Hestia's ramblings, though, so she wasn't about to complain.
Then, during the first week of night shifts at Artefact Accidents, she regretted that the foolishness didn't last longer. Marcus Dagworth wasn't an overbearing boss, and he finally learned to listen to the wiz-nurse, too. But trusting him with an apprentice was already an obvious mistake. Apprentice George Blatant was a conscientious young wizard, not unlike Dagworth. Still lacking a genuine leader, he kept sending whomever he could to the other wards to share the responsibility whenever he could.
Effie Brown was also a new addition to the St. Mungo's staff, so the only experienced person of their lot remained poor wiz-nurse Imogene White, and she became shorter with them by the hour. Not once did Anne take up her shift with knots in her stomach.
"Before they proscribe a thing, they should make each other drink a Wit-Sharpening Potion!" – Imogene told her as a greeting on Wednesday, obviously meaning the Mediwizard and his Apprentice. "Vomiting cauldrons are obviously cursed objects. What were they thinking?"
Anne had no time to stare - the agony of the wizard tossing on the stretcher hit her in the chest, and her senses failed to register the rest of the havoc around her. A look into the wizard's eyes showed her the confusion of the man who'd been sent around St. Mungo's wards for the last hour, although all he needed was attention to his burns and an Antidote for Common Hexes to remove the green tentacles that waved from his armpits. When Anne – Effie – shared the thought with Imogene, the wiz-nurse only nodded.
"He's yours. I'll see to the fanged witch in the sixth."
"Fanged witch?"
"Yes, somebody bit her and lost their upper dentures in her ear," – Imogene grimaced. "I'll remove them and apply the Dittany. Will you see to Blatant after you finish with the barfed-on bloke?"
Anne happily agreed. Imogene fared much better with Dagworth than she did. While she administered the Antidote for Common Hexes, Imogene's idea didn't leave her peace, though… Wit-Sharpening Potion… She wondered if Drusilla could tell them more if she had some.
By dawn, she was almost tired enough to forget the idea, but after changing into her Muggle jeans and tee, she fortuitously remembered to hurry up to Apprentice Wiggins in the Alchemy Room.
"Can I help you, Miss?"
"Bert, you should go home. I can't believe you didn't recognise me!" – Anne chuckled.
"Effie," – Wiggins smiled. "I just got…" – he showed her around the messed-up Brewery and shook his head. "You don't look much better than I feel," – he told her.
"Well, thanks very much, I'll remember!" Before the wizard could stammer his embarrassment, she assured him she didn't mind his words. "But you know, you could do me a huge favour, and I'll even help you with the cleaning."
"What do you need, Effie? Another batch of contraceptives? You know I don't care. We have those by the gallon."
"No, erm… are Wit-Sharpening Potions regulated?"
"Not more than the general mind stuff…" – Wiggens finally thought about her request. "Hey, girl, you don't need that! I don't know what Dagworth told you this time, but you shouldn't take it to heart. You're better than he'd been after two months."
The praise was uncalled for and felt like sunshine on Anne's tired soul. "Thank you, Bert!" – she said with honesty. "But it's not for me. I- well, I don't know how to say this, but I have this neighbour…."
She told the tale of an elderly neighbour in dire need of his wits about him when his greedy ilk would visit that day, and Bert Wiggins, bless his sensitive potioneer heart, gave her a double dose of the latest brew.
"Tell your neighbour it was on the house, girl. I had to brew a new batch the other night anyway. We're well supplied."
Making a mental note to get something from the Honeydukes for Wiggins the following weekend, Anne tidied after the all-night brewing. Wiggins was a pig in the Brewery. But a very good-hearted and talented pig Anne would never forget had once pleaded for her to be sent to assist with ingredient preparations. Those had been her best days yet at St. Mungo's.
Now she only needed to Apparate to Caleb's and wait for Drusilla to wake. Her cousin was delighted to have a full breakfast and happily took the Potion with her tea.
"Erm… Drusy, would you mind going over the day your mother disappeared again?" Anne asked, hoping for some luck this time. Caleb sat behind them on the settee.
"I went shopping in the morning. My new dress robe needed to be re-tailored because Madame Wool is just never as accurate as Madame Malkin. Don't you ever believe her recommendations! I'm certain she doctored those! Then, my dear Cuthbert took me out for lunch. He is a Yaxley, you know, and very remarkable with his rod."
"His rod?" – Caleb couldn't avoid asking back.
"Yes, he is an exceptional fisherman with various lovely, expensive rods and poles! You should see him swinging one on a weekend! I'm so proud of him!"
"You're very lucky," – Anne assured her, avoiding glancing at her brother at all costs. "What happened then?"
"Well, he escorted me home, of course, but Mother advised him to return later, which I found strange because usually, he gets to come inside. But I understood everything when I saw the living room! Goodness, that was a disaster! I asked Mother, but she seemed not to hear me. It was one of those days again when she would call me names," – Drusilla stopped to sniff, visibly shaken by her mother's coldness.
"And then?" – Anne prompted her.
"Then she was telling me things like Father's relations couldn't be trusted anymore, that I was supposed to seek out my Rosier cousins to tell them…" – Drusilla suddenly squeaked joyfully. "I remember! I should tell you that my aunt Totty was about to destroy us, and your father should be warned! I don't really know what that means. Totty had always been nice to me. Much nicer than he is," – she gestured to Caleb.
"Well, at least I haven't ever tried to kill your mother," – Caleb suggested. "That might count for something. Think about it!"
"Do you think she meant it?" – Drusy seemed to recognise the problem for the first time. "Mother told me your father refused to accept her after she duelled with Totty. That's horribly impolite. She also said she was held back by your guard dog when she tried to visit here, but I don't know what that meant either because you don't even seem to own a pet. And then… then they came."
"Who came?" – Anne pressed her.
"Mr. Wilkes… but he wasn't friendly at all. Also, he brought with him some of his friends I cannot fathom how he hooked up with. They pulled out every drawer and opened all the trunks… Mother just let them. She pulled me to the pantry room and dispelled the wards so we could Apparate away."
"Where did she take you?" – Anne asked quickly before the potion wore off.
"Nowhere. We hid in the shed at the corner of the back garden. I only left her there because she asked me to come and find you… But Merlin! I was so terrified!"
Anne looked at her brother, who was already on his feet.
"On my way," – Caleb only told her and was off to Devon to find Duvessa.
It took only a few minutes to reassure Drusilla that all would be well. Then the potion wore off, and she sank back into her usual simplicity. She was only happy and proud that she'd finally remembered the message.
Anne was dead on her feet and decided to risk leaving her cousin alone for a few short minutes. Apparating to Rachel, turning back time, and having four hours of sweet, dreamless sleep before she returned to play Exploding Snap endlessly while they waited for Caleb.
The familiar pop of her brother's return sounded like salvation. She rushed into the living room with her cousin in tow, only to send the girl right back to the kitchen with the same breath. Caleb struggled to hold up Duvessa by her arm and waist, and she seemed unconscious and badly wounded.
"What happened?" she ran to them and helped gently lower their aunt on the settee.
"She was like this when I found her," Caleb said, sounding almost defensive. "She wasn't in that shack, but there were tracks. Can you do something about her?"
Anne looked Duvessa over, then with a firm decision, she drew her wand and cast the Diagnostic Charm.
"If they really hid so close to the house, I wonder why she didn't eat or drink at least," – she told Caleb, but he seemed less surprised.
"I wouldn't risk going inside either. There's nothing much left of the building," – Caleb deemed. "One has to wonder what the neighbours were told."
Anne looked the runes over again and slowly listed what she saw: "She's malnourished, dehydrated, her liver is in horrible shape, and that wound on her side seems to have become infected." She didn't even notice the practised tone she used and entirely missed his brother's astonishment. "We need potions," – she concluded, and her stomach jumped into a tight knot.
She didn't have many options. Duvessa couldn't enter St. Mungo's. She would be seen and in danger. She couldn't ask Poppy, but they weren't at Hogwarts, and this wasn't a corridor duel, which meant she would have questions. So, the brewing and the following treatment would rely on her, and judging by the state of her aunt's liver, she doubted she had time to make mistakes.
The school was to recommence within a few weeks, and not one family had already begun their purchases. So her options were Knockturn or Pippin's Apothecary at Hogsmeade. She considered Knockturn carefully because, keeping residence with Caleb, she had started to learn her way around here. Still, when she remembered the state of those shady shops that sold potion ingredients, she knew she wouldn't buy rotten bat-shite in dragonhide gloves from such a place.
Which left her with Hogsmeade. More open and thus more dangerous. But why would she have anything to hide? She only wished to buy common ingredients for common potions: Strengthening Solution, Purifiers, Blood Replenishers, and Dittany. Pippin might only be surprised.
She gathered her things and hurried away. It was better to get it all done before she gave herself time to think because stopping now and remembering she was about to treat somebody without supervision, more, she was about to pour potions she'd never brewed alone yet down a living, breathing human's throat, would have made her throw up and hide under a table.
When she returned and ordered all her purchases nicely on the table, they decided to levitate Duvessa to the bedroom, where Caleb could watch her until Anne fixed the potions. He didn't need to know how Anne's stomach shrunk into a tight knob before her trembling hands made the various bases and added the carefully cut ingredients one after the other. He didn't need to know how often she questioned her abilities while the potions heated, changed colour, changed again, and bubbled up until they were ready.
Anne also hid how anxiously she watched for any sign of poisoning when her ready brews slid down her aunt's dry throat. Then she gasped with fright when Duvessa took a shaky breath and turned onto her side by her own will.
"That's a good sign, is it?" – Caleb asked. "I mean, she's moving. That must be good!"
"Yeah, it's good," – Anne agreed and sighed. I am yet to kill her – that, she only added in her thoughts. "Will you grab the Dittany? I left it on the table."
As soon as her brother left the room, she let her head fall onto her arms, closed her eyes, and just breathed with relief. Cleaning the wound on Duvessa's side with Dittany was nothing compared to what she'd achieved, and she fell asleep by her aunt's bedside until her buzzing wand alerted her to return to St. Mungo's for the night.
And Blatant had the guts to report on Wiggins for letting her do the cleaning up the other day! Anne wasn't in the mood to take his rubbish and stormed down to Mediwitch Brunswick to give her a piece of her mind – stopping short when a sense of a void greeted her before she could enter the open door, and a wizard, clad in a simple black robe and a reluctant sneer, turned his head to face her.
"Assistant Brown, if this is not about petty Apprentices' pernicious prattling, give us a minute, and I will listen," – Mediwitch Brunswick addressed her before Snape could as much as lift an eyebrow.
Anne froze on the doorstep, but her professor still didn't speak or move. She shook herself and apologised, ready to flee when she heard him.
"Don't make her wait, Madame. We are done here. Smethwyck will know the rest."
"Thank you, Professor. We are obliged, like always."
Snape hummed a farewell, and his gaze stabbed into Anne's as he stepped by her in the door. "Assistant Brown," – he intoned like an offence, tilted his head, and walked out through the atrium.
Heat and cold ran through Anne, watching his back and suddenly recalling that day's missed training with Sprout. He didn't come here because of that, did he? Did he?!
"I'm sorry, Mediwitch Brunswick, but I'm afraid it was just about that."
"Well, you know my sentiments then," – the Mediwitch gestured towards the door.
"Yes. Sorry," she mumbled, but then she couldn't hold herself back from running after Snape. She stumbled across the Muggle shop's window that disguised the entrance and still saw his back a few steps down the street.
"Professor," – she called after him and recognised his annoyance from the one glance he threw back at her. Without slowing down, he crossed the street and disappeared into a narrow alley between two buildings on the other side.
"Shite!" Anne wasn't sure if she also stamped her feet, but a more extended flux and variety of cursing had left her lips that evening than ever she could recall. After a hectic night between an overly friendly Mediwizard and his expressively unfriendly Apprentice, she hurried home, turned back time to get ten hours of precious sleep before she turned again and made sure to visit Hogwarts and apologised to Professor Sprout profusely for the mishap.
"Cubs and calves are all the same, Mona," Hagrid spoke up for her before she could even finish. "Let her be! It's summer. She doesn't have long to run around."
"I wouldn't mind it, but I promised to keep an eye on her," – Sprout replied. "And we are also short of time to finish before the school begins. Come with me, Miss Rosier, you will enjoy today. We must decide which bushes you planted are best equipped to grow with magic."
"Are we only planting one of these? And where?" – Anne asked with genuine curiosity.
"I haven't been told," – Professor Sprout laughed bitterly and started toward the back of the Greenhouses. "This secrecy is astonishing, but they seem to enjoy it so much! All I know is that we shall prepare for a hedge to be grown within the shortest time to the greatest height on some future order."
They cut, examined, measured, and experimented with various charms, and Anne finally calmed down under the August sun. Snape must have only showed up to do some business with St. Mungo's. He was an exceptional potioneer and apparently knew not only Brunswick but also Apprentice Smethwyck. This supported the idea of his visit being professional because Smethwyck was allegedly the best St. Mungo's could offer.
Her next turn took her to Caleb's, and she administered the healing potions to Duvessa, this time more calmly, then looked after Rachel. Friday's night shift had to be divided into two blocks, interrupted by the Time-Turner with a few hours of sleep she had behind the Tearoom before she spent her weekend strengthening her aunt and listening to Caleb's worries.
The following week finally brought back the morning shifts and carried Sophie's owl, requesting a meeting. Anne thought she knew what was on her friend's mind, but Caleb seemed curiously reluctant to keep up the acquaintance.
"I don't have time for schoolgirls, A-bee," – he said shortly and dived into the sports block of the Daily Prophet.
Anne found it insulting and flicked into the back of the page. "'Cause wagering on the Quidditch Final is so much more mature!"
"Don't even begin!"
"Why not if I'm right? And you didn't seem this choosy on Fortescue's terrace!"
Caleb finally put the paper aside to stare at her. "You will not support this friend of yours to get… ideas, will you?"
"What? It was you who flirted with her!"
"I didn't. And she-"
Being able to sense Caleb's regrets only added to Anne's confusion. "Oh, of course you did! What happened to discussing details and kissing her cheek goodbye?"
"A-bee, stop it!"
"I don't want to. Why ever should I stop?"
"Because I'm dangerous, can't you see, you daft cow?!" – Caleb leaned close to her and only whispered, but it didn't make him any less energetic. "Open your eyes, A-bee, we are not good friends for anybody! Am I supposed to march into the darkest curiosity shop known on these Isles and play nice to the niece of its owner? Are you nuts?"
"Mr Borgin is not like that- " Anne began, but she wasn't sure if she stated the truth.
"He's probably the most well-connected wizard you could pick from them all, and with all kinds of Dark Artefacts and curses at his back at call. And what am I?" Caleb stopped to make sure his sister understood him. "I'm a son of a traitor for the strongest alliance of the Wizengamot, who defends Death Eaters, and I am a nephew of convicted murderers.
"I have no money or station, and all I've ever learned is that I want the former without the latter. And if all that wasn't bad enough, I also have a hand in whatever you do without understanding it. Is the fog clearing now? Or shall I go on?"
"Caleb, you don't have to", Anne tried, but his brother shook his head, and his emotions roared close to hysteria.
"Don't I? Really? So what am I supposed to do about our aunt here? Or her daughter? Both are on the MLE's list for apprehension. I've seen the bloody memo on my own fucking desk in the office today!" He took a deep breath to calm down before he went on: "As things are, A-bee, you and I are hiding possible criminals, and it doesn't matter tuppence if you can prove them innocent or not. Old Borgin would be justified firing up my petty hide for less if I approached his niece!"
Sensing that their aunt heard the last piece was one thing, but finally understanding Caleb was another, and Anne found she couldn't worry about Duvessa's feelings when her brother was in such a bad mood.
"Are you planning on winning the money to leave?" She asked when the paper caught her eye. Caleb's embarrassment was strong enough to make her blush, too.
"I won't leave you behind," – he mumbled, but it was meaningless for Anne before he explained: "I finally met with the guy Milan knew. He's… he lives nearby."
"What?"
"He's a squib, A-bee. He lives behind the Picaroon Market on the other side of Knockturn. I've been to his Muggle shop."
"Caleb!"
"Look, I don't believe it is our problem, but you keep agreeing with Duvessa that you should warn our father. I will do that for you. And then, I think we should follow your friends to Hurghada."
Anne was astonished. She had sensed her brother's worries but never realised they were so deeply set. Now, she gave him her full attention. "And what are you planning for Gavin?"
Caleb shrugged. "He may come or stay with the Smiths. If he leaves his job at the Ministry, he might have a chance to blend in."
Anne's senses warned her about scheming and curiosity before her aunt entered the door. "What is in Hurghada?" – Duvessa asked. Caleb's rooms were decidedly too small for four people to live in, with their privacy intact.
"Nothing for you to worry about!" – Caleb quickly dismissed their aunt. For Miranda's sake, Anne was glad she had already moved south with Milan so Duvessa wouldn't find her.
She didn't relent, though, and the vile threads of her conniving mind disturbingly tackled magic around them. "Is it that friend of yours whom the Fawleys are searching for?" – Duvessa pushed her.
Before Caleb could show the violence Anne clearly sensed had risen in him, she stepped forward. "Aunt, you are not permitted to out her to Eleonore Fawley. She couldn't help you approach our father either. But I could." When Caleb took a breath to protest, she held her hand up to stop him. "If you flee, you only admit you did something wrong. Duvessa may not be guilty, but she certainly is not an innocent, are you, Aunt?"
Duvessa huffed dismissively. "All I'd ever done was done for the family."
"Oh, please!" – Caleb grimaced, but Anne put a calming hand on his arm.
"The way this family is, no wonder you have doubts," – she told her brother, then turned back to her aunt. "Did you know that our esteemed father attempted to curse me with an Imperius? Or that he poisoned our mother?"
Duvessa's mild surprise filled the air for a second. "You should have told me, dear. I've always been there for you," – she said then with a smile.
"Thank you, Duvessa," – Anne forced a smile too. "Let us repay your kindness, then. We are family, after all!"
Caleb was gobsmacked, but finally, it seemed she had found the language their aunt was speaking.
"It's not necessary, my dear, but just out of curiosity… What do you have in mind?"
"Oh, not me! It was actually Caleb's wonderful idea!"
"Was it?" – Duvessa and Caleb said in unison, suddenly eying each other like two rival foxes above a half-dead chicken.
"Sure! If I understand him right, he can obtain travelling papers, Muggle and Wizarding, and I'm sure he can arrange a portkey or some other means for you to leave for Malmo!" She used their momentary pause to add: "Of course, I cannot ask you to leave Drusy behind if you're forced into a longer stay. Your daughter needs you, Aunt."
It took several moments for Duvessa to digest what she heard, but eventually, her smile turned genuine, and for the first time, Anne sensed a hint of respect crawling to her through the air and magic. "All that, as soon as you arranged a meeting between me and my brother, is it?"
Anne confidently nodded and only explained to her brother about the Polyjuice Potion she had seen at Borgin and Burke's after Duvessa agreed to the plan. Caleb had the sense to escort her down to Everard's shop to ask her about her sanity.
"Father will agree to see me, and Duvessa can warn him. I won't even be in the room. But then we won't have long to get rid of them if Aunt is on the MLE's list."
Caleb sighed and pulled out his wand. He began to draw slow circles aiming at the upper level of the rickety house.
"What are you doing?" – Anne asked.
"Well, it's better to keep them inside with some wards if you don't want your darling Aunt to go astray while I seek out Double Dee."
"Double who?"
Caleb laughed. "The guy Milan knew," – he explained. "He's going by the name Dodger Dewey at the Picaroon Market and as a Mr Jones among the Muggles. Are you sure about this all, sis?" – he asked in a more serious tone.
"I'm just doing what Snape suggested," – she grinned at him. "I'm relying on you, knobhead!" – she explained when her brother didn't catch her meaning. "Either that, or Drusy will arrange a weekend for us to watch Cuthbert Yaxley swinging his exceptional rod!"
"You are revolting!" – Caleb exclaimed, but he snickered with her.
Strangely, misbehaving or trusting in her plans came more naturally to Anne than ever. Perhaps Poppy had been right about working at St. Mungo's, building self-confidence. Not the type that didn't tremble under Mediwizard Sheambaum's gaze or that which didn't suffer from Mediwizard Spleen's change of heart after the hag incident. But she had spoken up when Wiz-nurse White asked about a patient or Apprentice Blatant's newest adventure through the quirks and nooks of mediwizardry. She managed minor injuries at the Emergency Ward before they stole attention from the more severe cases and gained a surer hand assisting Bert in the A-Room even after hours. It all slowly changed her outlook on life, dividing it into salvageable problems and undeniable facts.
Duvessa and Drusy were part of a problem. They didn't need her emotions, only her attention. She cared about them, at least their safety and survival, but her feelings lay with her brothers and friends. She didn't miss Dan because he had been a solution – for better or worse – and had run his route. She didn't worry about tricking their father or helping her aunt escape because those had to be done, like administering emetics. She didn't need to like it for it to work.
However, she was bursting with glee when she sent Caleb to purchase the Polyjuice from Sophie and anticipated covering their tracks in a way that would make Kelly happy. It took some days to work it all out, but at the beginning of August's third week, Caleb showed up at one of her walks with Rachel in the Park.
"I've got the papers," – he told her when Rachel sat on a bench and waved them off to take a turn without her. "The Polyjuice is old, so its effect will be shorter, but all we need is a single hair from you. Drusy wrote a letter to that berk, and I lied I would send it, so the only thing to settle is the date."
"Has Gavin managed to steal Father's schedule for the week?"
"Yes. He even copied the list of his appointments. Must be eager to get this behind us!"
"Don't be unjust. We all want the same," – Anne reminded him, weary of his mocking tone.
"Yeah," – Caleb stared at the park and leaned back onto the tree they stepped under for shade on the hot day. Anne smiled and looked down at their bare feet and Caleb's rolled-up trouser legs. She couldn't wish their aunt to hell if her dealings meant getting closer to her brothers. "Although we wouldn't earn as much as he does when this is over," – Caleb said.
"D'you mean he has a Kelly and the Smiths?"
"You make me sound like a pathetic jealous prat," – Caleb noticed. "Which I am, by all means, but that's not for you to pick on!"
Anne's sudden laughter jingled through the Park, and it got even worse when her brother revenged her elbow in his ribs with a tickling. That moment helped her through the bad part when she had to read through her father's office papers to spot the best date for their shenanigan.
"He hardly has anything on Wednesday afternoon," – she noticed.
"Not because he's usually out then. Gavin couldn't learn why."
"Then let's catch him before he leaves," – Anne suggested. "Duvessa could arrive before the end of his discussion with… this Hugo-fellow, and – " She stopped so abruptly that her brother freaked out.
"What? What is it, A-bee?!"
"I just realised!" – she grinned at Caleb madly. "We need to speak to Kelly! She should nick her father's pass!"
"What on earth are you blabbering about?"
"Football! Wednesday[i] is the 20th, and Manchester United will play against… gods, I don't know against who, but I remember the date! We can do it all within ninety minutes, and thousands of Muggles will provide our alibi!"
Of course, her newly formed plan would need her to show Caleb her Time-Turner at least once, which didn't fill Anne with the same enthusiasm, but there wasn't much to do about it.
Kelly was happy, Gavin was satisfied, and Caleb was deadly serious in the coming days. Anne calculated all the turns carefully and walked through all the locations their plan involved but in Dover and Manchester. Caleb was responsible for those parts of the plan, and he flew around the country on a broom Tuesday night to learn all the spots they could use for Apparation. He borrowed a wand from an acquaintance Anne preferred not to hear about, especially not after learning that it cost Galleons, and they were all set.
The afternoon shift at St Mungo's had to be the first Anne observed. Frank Strawman happily believed her tale about an important date and promised to cover for her if she left early. That small cheat she needed if she wished to turn back time to noon so she could change and get to the house opposite from the Wizengamot with Duvessa and the Polyjuice, while Caleb would wait for them at King's Cross with Drusilla and the borrowed wand. No one would look into unknown Apparations in the vicinity of the station, and her ebony wand was not registered.
Anne tore some hair from the back of her head and poured them into the potion.
"Here," – she offered it to Duvessa. "Don't forget that you are under the Eavesdropping Charm Caleb learned at the MLE. If you dismiss it or get into trouble, I will come after you."
Duvessa rolled her eyes but drank the green and grey liquid. She might have wished for more freedom, but Caleb wasn't to be convinced to let her roam around without precautions. Anne doubted that was what Snape had referred to when he told her about her brother's abilities, but largely, it was still on the same scale.
Anne watched herself crossing the road and wondered if her hips indeed seemed that curvy. She was unsure if she liked that. Perhaps taking up yoga again would be a good idea.
When Duvessa disappeared behind the gates, she held her wand to her ear and listened to the conversation in the entrance hall. Annabella Rosier had to see her father, and she wouldn't be delayed. Her voice sounded unfamiliar, especially after Duvessa got into Monty's office. Her words hadn't been meek at all. Instead, she sounded too familial and demanding. Monty couldn't accept that, and instead of listening to her pleas about ditching the Travers', he admonished her thoroughly. Duvessa wasn't one to bear this, and somewhere in the middle of their altercation, her potion suddenly wore off.
Anne's palm was sweating holding up her wand, and she was about to cross the street to help her aunt, but then she heard her father:
"What could be so bloody important for you to disgrace us both in such a manner?!"
"I've already told you twice!" – Duvessa screamed. "Totty was a Wilkes. Have you forgotten? She played along with Lucius and his abhorrent lackeys! You've been made a fool, Monty. I tried to warn you in vain."
"You've been in the first place and suggested I get rid of Hemo!"
"Well, I was wrong then!" – Duvessa shouted without any hint of regret. "It had been good while it lasted. Now, either listen and crawl back to him or be seen as Lucius's plant."
Anne couldn't hear as much as a breath for seconds, but then her father sounded almost on the verge of tears. "But I owe him, Essa. I cannot reverse this!"
Duvessa almost choked on her anger. "Monty, how could you?! With all poor Evan suffered!"
"Evan is dead." Monty's tone betrayed how comforting he found that simple fact. "No matter how much you wish it were me in that grave, no magic can retrieve him. And Lucius is not as bad as he seems. Ask Hemo. He's even found him useful at times!"
"So that's the way it is then," – Duvessa huffed. "You don't need to worry about seeing me again. But you will hear from me, brother. And so will all your comrades if you joined them already. Be warned because I have all of Evan's letters. You won't find those in a hundred years. Can you remember what that means, brother? Can you recall?"
"Get away from my sight!" – Monty's voice came so low and coldly that Anne's nerves stood on edge even from afar. She couldn't detect her father's emotions at such a distance, but there also was no need. When Duvessa's steps signalled her leaving, she suddenly heard: "Incarcerous!"
"Protego! Stupefy!" – Duvessa's voice countered him. Then, after a few moments of silence, Anne heard her aunt again. "You were never the quicker one. Farewell, Monty!"
The witch the MLE searched for through and through Britain walked out from the Wizengamot's building as if she hadn't had a care in the world.
"You heard every word, my dear," – she stopped beside her niece. "Will you tell your brothers?"
Anne stared at her aunt, trying to figure out through her shock what she'd meant. "That Father is friends with the man who sent assassins on Caleb? His own son?"
"I doubt it was part of their deal," – Duvessa said with unexpected compassion. "If I earned a Galleon every time, Monty was surprised! But he will have no choice but to follow that dirt. He was horrible to my dear Evan, and I bet his private poisoner at Hogwarts brewed the potion responsible for the crime I have only dreamt about committing."
When Anne gasped, thinking about Snape and what such an accusation meant about her following his demands, Duvessa took her arm and made her listen:
"It doesn't matter who killed her if she had to die. She knew all I had proof of in Evan's letters. I've hidden those away from that abysmal venom master, but you're not to search for them, Anabella. They will get you killed!
"I needed a safe place, and you got me one. I will never forget it. Now, know that the Malfoys cannot let it all go. Their interest relies upon the Minister, and Dumbledore's influence is in their way. If the old fool tries to make a hero of a puppet, Lucius will make sure that he fails in something else."
"What does that mean?" – Anne asked, fearing the determination and honesty in her aunt's voice. Duvessa was getting herself ready to do something final. It all sounded like a testimony.
"It means that the World Cup is already doomed. I don't know how. I've heard nothing more than what you know. But I know Lucius. This won't be the first place he blasted. He needs Fudge to fall from grace in the Prophet, for he also teamed up with Dumbledore, and it will happen in a way he can make his point. Be warned, girl, and avoid that event! If you will, I have begun to redeem my debt. Now take me to your brother, and let's get this over with!"
Anne took her wand and Duvessa's arm like a sleepwalker and turned on her heel with the King's Cross' familiar entrance in her mind.
"What happened?" – Caleb implored her, but Anne dismissed his worries with a shrug.
"A waste of time. Are you ready?"
"I am, but" – Caleb looked at Drusilla, who was finishing another letter to her dearest Cuthbert. "Just fold it! I promise I won't peek!" – he sighed and watched as their cousin pointed her wand at the letter until it jumped into the shape of an envelope. "Ready?"
Caleb pocketed the missive and drew the borrowed wand. He took hold of Duvessa and Apparated to Dover. Within a few short minutes, which now seemed like an hour, he returned and took her sister and his cousin. Anne was glad she wasn't supposed to wait longer, but she looked over everyone for Splinching. Caleb did a good job, and even their hiding place seemed safe.
Now, they only had to walk down to the harbour, pay the price for the ferry to Calais, and wait.
"This portkey is not exactly legal, so it probably will raise the French Auror's attention," – Caleb explained to their aunt. "However, they have no idea who to watch for, and by the time they'd find you, you should be somewhere in Lower Saxony."
"Saxony?" – Duvessa looked at him as if she was about to return the portkey.
"You can't seriously believe I could arrange your magical transportation from France to Sweden on such short notice. You could also apply for a portkey at the French Ministry, which I wouldn't suggest, or arrange your route from Göttingen. That was the farthest destination I could find for scholarly purposes. All other portkeys are only provided on personal applications. Would you like to return to the Ministry to complete a form?"
Duvessa sank the broken screwdriver into her purse with a grimace and assured Caleb that he needn't be so vexed. Anyway, the ferry couldn't depart too early after this, and Anne sensed there was no love lost between her brother and other relatives when they watched them sailing away.
"I've done what I could," – Caleb stared long at the sea. "It's your turn, A-bee. How are we supposed to be somewhere else the whole day?"
"With odd magic," she replied, feeling her anxiety returning when she thought about showing off her time turner for the first time. She hoped Caleb would keep his promise about not asking questions, being as unlikely as it was. She cast Tempus and leaned back against the harbour's rail. "Soon."
"Is it scheduled?"
"I'm just too lazy to do the Maths," – she sighed. "Father is ready to team up with the Malfoys, and our aunt believes there will be something major at the World Cup. You shouldn't go there."
"As major as watching Krum play against the Irish?" – Caleb snickered. "That would not stop me if you meant it that way!"
"I didn't, and you know it. I would expect the whole Arena to blow up from all she told me."
"Be serious. No one would get away with something like that!"
Anne wasn't sure what to reply. The quarrel in her father's office frightened her almost as much as Duvessa's last words to her in private.
"I'm dead serious, actually… although I have no idea whatever she was referring to precisely, I heard Father and all their words… Also, she kind of told me more about those blasted letters."
"What?" Caleb suddenly became all excited. "Has she told you where those are? A-bee, that's a gold mine! Where did she hide them?"
However, his enthusiasm and greed were the best arguments against finding and exploiting those letters, so Anne changed direction:
"She told me that the letters could have proven Lucinda's story if she ever turned against the Malfoys and that she knew too much. Caleb, I'm afraid if you hadn't left the MLE in time, you would be either dead or in the Malfoys' clutches by now, just like Father. He said he owed them. I'm getting to worry about him seriously!"
"Let me see if I understand you," Caleb said. He glanced at her, and she sensed his annoyance. "Are you telling me that your main concern now is the man who had cursed you, almost had me killed, and disowned Gavin?"
Anne let her eyes fall and was relieved when her wand buzzed in her pocket. It was time to make a complete three-hour turn, and although she was tired, she anticipated the last part of the plan like a well-deserved price after such a day.
"What is this?" – her brother asked when they hid under a gate, and she put the leather string around both of their necks.
"You promised you wouldn't ask questions."
"Maybe, but this thing looks like those funny little gadgets I sometimes see coming from the Unspeakables." Caleb's hand was already on the leather string, and he tried to make out the curious engravings on the two-sided golden device. "There's something inside of it! Wait!"
Anne pulled the Time Turner away from his reach, and she finally understood, sensing his excitement. Caleb had the typical male gadget rage and was not entirely in control of his reactions. She set the circles into motion as quickly as she could, and after short moments of watching the world's blurry haste backwards, she cleverly picked the leather string from her brother's neck, hiding the device.
"Wait! Have we just-"
"Yes, we are back right after noon, and you promised not to pry!"
That made Caleb grumble, but he grudgingly sat on his mouth so they could finish their plan. He grabbed his sister's hand and swirled with her to Manchester, just a stop away from Old Trafford, so that they could arrive at the stadium in the crowd of excited Muggles. Caleb took to their rhythm with surprising ease, made instant friends and disappeared for some moments.
"I swear the guy thought he made a good deal on these!" – Caleb showed off two passes. When Anne looked worried, he added: "Don't worry about it! The whole day is brought to us by those three hundred gold you refused at Fortescue's, remember? I hated you returning them, so I thought I'd make something like a family trust. We're still saving enough to be secure if something like this comes up again."
Anne wished she could listen to him more or ask questions, but people were milling all around them, dragging them towards one of the gates of an absolutely huge stadium. Even comparing it with what she'd seen before from the outside, this was a behemoth of a building. The whole world seemed to vibrate in reds and yellows, and someone shouted the price of badges. When she looked that way, she also saw pins and scarves. This time, Mr. Smith couldn't stop her from buying one.
"I saw Gavin and Kelly," – Caleb then told her. "Come!"
Anne couldn't stop her gaze wandering all over the crowd, experiencing the usual confusion as always when there were too many unchecked emotions swirling around her. This crowd was full of hope and anticipation. Excitement. Her senses began picking up the vibe and mimicking the feelings. "A-Bee, Come on!"
She clutched her new scarf and laughed at Kelly's foresight, which made her wear that little red skirt. When they finally met her and Gavin, she noticed Kelly matched her appearance, to Gavin's annoyance. But Kelly hugged her and assured her they were about to have so much fun that she wouldn't mind her brother's feelings.
Getting through the turnstiles was more challenging than she anticipated, and somebody pushed her from the back. When she turned, she only saw a friendly nod on a stranger's face. Then they climbed some stairs, and – her breath caught looking down at the spotless green field, the packed stands that seemed endless, and buzzed with anticipation and trembled with chants already!
They found their places, but no one sat for long. The crowd was so thick it could hold her when it waved like a mass on the rhythm of the chants and the game. She sensed again the energy that mesmerised her last time. Now, it was only denser, a little more volatile. It erupted in waves and dragged her senses with the common desire and anticipation for a next good move, for one more miracle….
Truth be told, Anne hardly saw the field through all the turbulence. She couldn't focus or choose from the thousand emotions, not even to distinguish her own. She screamed and yelled with the crowd, ultimately dissolving into it, sensing its every nuance and no particulars at all.
Gavin got them mince pies in the interval, and Kelly talked to her long enough to ground her. She finally gathered that Caleb had assured Gavin that their mission was successful. It also dragged her senses back to reality. Following Kelly's idea, they elbowed their way down to the parapet of the stand and looked over the field.
"I will have to lie to Dad. He'd better not know how cool this day is!" – Kelly laughed. "But you seemed like you were high or something!"
Anne giggled and knew she blushed to her toes, so she looked the other way – only to freeze in mid-motion, staring into two horrified near-black grey eyes staring at her from a vax-pale face!
All her focus shifted to the man in black jeans and a collarless Man United shirt, closing out the elevating buzz. Anger, surprise, jealousy, horror… it all hit her in the chest until she choked on her meat pie, and Kelly had to pat her back until she was ready for a much-needed breath again. She wiped her mouth and looked back at Snape. The ire lessened, and the horror seemed to have become something akin to panic.
"Who's that guy who's staring at you? Anne, do you know him?"
The short moment when she glanced away at Kelly was enough for him to close away his emotion, and when Anne looked back, all she could sense was his usual void.
"Shit," – she mumbled. "Yeah, I –" she was unsure about how to proceed, and a part of her only wished to placate Snape. She almost pitied him for depriving him of his privacy… Then she remembered Duvessa's words. "Er...No. I don't know him." She shook her head and tried to dispense with Kelly's doubts.
"Let's get back to the boys," – Kelly suggested, and Anne only nodded a greeting towards her professor behind her friend's back.
The crowd couldn't wash her out of her mind anymore. At least, she believed that before, just minutes into the second half, Hughes put the ball away with a wonderfully precise long shot into the right upper corner of the gate, and the following craze renewed the daze she had fallen into. The people around her moved en masse as if they tried to step down from the stands, and only the row before her could hold up her weight.
She screamed and chanted happily with the crowd and finally dared to peek towards Snape's row. He stood among the wildest just a step from the parapet and was busy shouting his lungs out. It was so novel she laughed and wished to dance. He had nothing to fear of. There wasn't a soul at Hogwarts or anywhere in the magical world who would ever believe this! But she wasn't even tempted to try her chances!
The Queens Park Rangers had some terrifying moves, but eventually, McClair scored a second for Man United, and the celebration was as mad as before. The last twenty minutes Anne spent in the now familiar daze, absorbing the flow of energy and joy around her, grinning and chanting, and forgetting about all her woes.
Her brothers were more sober than either she or Kelly, trying to keep them upwards and unhurt when more than a thousand people started to flow out of the gates. She hazily remembered someone in the crowd, and thinking of Snape was grounding enough to get back to her better sense. A few minutes into the scrambling, she heard a familiar pop somewhere behind her.
"Was that someone Apparating?" – Caleb scorned, but Anne couldn't have this reprieve ruined by renewed worries.
"What's the chance, really? Don't be a dork!"
She smiled to herself when that reassured her brother, and only later, struggling to fall asleep even with the beers they all had in a Muggle pub, did she question her decisions. Whatever she'd heard about Snape, she still acted like the good little Snake she was supposed to be and kept her mouth, covering for him. Shaking her head, she fished out her neglected guitar from under her bed and distracted herself as much as she could until sleep finally claimed her.
The morning's Herbology training wasn't much better. Now, she was quarrelling with Snape in her head about her right to live freely, conveniently neglecting all counterarguments about helping an alleged criminal or overusing a ministry device for non-academic purposes. She added meaningful conversation about Duvessa's accusations, too, until she was a little bothered by Snape eventually staying away and definitely not asking her about her intrusion on his private life. The whole damned mess about the man hurt her like a hidden wound and frightened her.
"You seem distracted, Miss Rosier," – Professor Sprout noticed. "You must be preparing for the coming semester, are you?"
"No – Yes. Sorry, Professor! It's almost the end of the summer already, and…"
"You'll be having an OWL year, aren't you?"
"Yes, Madame." Anne tried to sound coherent and as normal as she could.
"You don't need to worry about it," – the chubby witch smiled. "But I'm telling you this in vain, am I? We all had to get through the first terror of the wizarding exams to appreciate our true abilities. You will grow into your boots very quickly, Miss Rosier. At least I don't worry about it."
Anne thanked her kindness and did her best not to take her words as patronising. They were kind and reassuring towards the fifteen-year-old she was supposed to be. Yet, in reality, she happened to be days from becoming eighteen. Also, in reality, she soon found herself at St. Mungo's Artefact Accidents Ward with two elderly sisters carried in with various burns and poisonings.
She asked no questions because the witches were incoherent, spread her senses to understand their symptoms, re-enforcing all her findings by watching Imogene's Diagnostic Spells, and got down to work before she had to be advised. Mediwizard Dagworth struggled in a nearby room to save the witches' niece's life, and Apprentice Blatant preached to the devastated father about responsible brewing out in the corridor, driving everyone else nuts in the Ward.
Hearing from Rachel that Kelly had called that night and that Dan was back and had asked about her felt like returning to the sunny side. That morning at Hogwarts, her smile came easily, and she nodded and thanked Sprout profusely for the opportunity. She bid goodbye to Professor Hagrid for the last time before September and was off to see Dan before her shift.
It didn't go as expected because George Smith caught her in the hall, telling her he was finally free and tried to convince all the "kids" to see the match together.
Goofing around with Dan had to wait. Gavin gave a hard pass, Caleb was still at work, and Kelly seemed to anticipate the opportunity of having the flat empty for a change. George had already convinced Anne not to let him go alone, so she found herself on her merry way to Nottingham, ditching St. Mungo's responsibilities for the second time in a month, but without regrets.
Nottingham City Ground was packed and roaring. The match wasn't into the tenth minute, and Manchester United, dressed in their visitor blacks, had already besieged the Nottingham gate with a ball that all but scorched the grass next to the goalpost.
The hastily bought passes only won places for George and Anne to stand. Now, the waving crowd held them up by sheer happenstance, the shouting and cussing deafened Anne, and the booming emotions washed her out of her senses. Nothing was here to ground her, not a touch of a safe spot or a fake last sigh of control. It felt like floating… like being drugged or having senseless sex…
And Nottingham ran down Schmeichel's gate, with Bryan Roy's long shot caught from doing harm, and it all began again.
Anne was beyond having a coherent thought amidst it all. She was happy to breathe when she was allowed to… and the crowd waved and roared… and a head just slightly moved to the right before her in time to actually see Kanchelskis at the right spot to send the ball into the long corner of the net with grace!
The celebratory jumping around that followed pushed her around like a rag doll, and she would have fallen face-front onto a wide, sweaty neck if an arm hadn't hit through the mass of limbs, grabbing her thin top and pulling her straight. It wasn't an option to turn and thank its owner. However, that saving arm had a peculiar vibe. It finally grounded her enough to retrieve some of her senses, and Anne spread her legs at her tiny spot, not to get dragged too far away from George Smith again.
The roaring was yet to subside when Stan Collymore sent the ball ahead with a long kick, threatening the Manchester gate, but soon he ran up again, and from the right side, he scored for the greatest woe of all around Anne on the visitor-side stands. The emblematic Mancunian insults wouldn't have called her attention at this point. Yet, the deep and resonant baritone some steps – and about four people – behind her left shoulder seemed eerily familiar.
While Roy Keane gathered a yellow card, and Anne stretched her senses beyond the judge's "well-wishers" from all around her and encountered a strong stream of sea-coloured emotions: anticipation, mild irritation, amusement… and she finally moved to look. Then George Smith misunderstood her fidgeting and helpfully offered an arm she could lean onto and return to him and the relative safety in the crowd. The sea-coloured set of emotions hinted with some satisfaction and roared up with anticipation as the team attacked again.
Half-time came too soon. Anne had yet to gather her courage. That familiar vibe and colour… surely, she couldn't possibly be as unlucky as to run into her professor – her potions professor, as in wizardry! – twice at a match?
"Better not move from 'ere!" – George suggested. "I doubt we could make our way back."
Anne nodded and enjoyed the fluctuation in the crowd, which finally enabled her to have a free breath and look around until she stared into those same critical, almost black eyes again.
"D'you know the guy?" – George asked her, only indicating Snape with a nod.
Anne remembered all the one-sided arguments that played out in her head, the confusion, the gossip, and her regrets, and finally, her anger rose again. Not as much against Snape, but against the unfairness of life that she always had known but rarely hated like this.
"I can't fathom what the hell he's doing here!"
"I don't really see a reason for your confusion," – George grinned at her, looking over the younger man as he had seen him, dressed to support and now bitterly biting his lips together.
Even Anne began to think their discussion hardly went unnoticed. "I won't be a minute," – she promised to George and squeezed through a group of friends to get closer to Snape. "Hello, sir," – she hit a falsely cheerful tone.
Snape drew off his cigarette and shook his ponytail off his shoulder. "Don't be ridiculous!"
"Erm…" – after about half a minute just standing there and watching him gazing out on the field above her head, Anne finally decided to retreat and fume alone. "It was a pleasure," – she bit out and was about to turn when he spoke:
"Rosi-"
"It is Brown, sir."
"What the- Listen, here, girl, I have no idea what the Hell you'd been thinking, but if any of this gets around, I will not be –"
"Who the fuck am I supposed to talk about it in the first place? Are you truly that delusional?!" Years' worth of silence, frustrations, and confused anger found a way to suddenly erupt her, and momentarily, Anne couldn't care less whether she was digging her grave with her words. "I couldn't have guessed to see you hereof all the places! But don't muzzle your persecution complex. It might also kill you to bridle it!"
"How dare you, little ch-"
"Or else? Will you brew another poison before Malfoy tries to finish another of my kin?"
"WHAT?"
His honest surprise failed to touch her. "You may tell all your brethren that the Rosiers are out. We will not take part in the nonsense, and I don't give a fuck about the Ministry or the Wizengamot! And if he wants to blow up the Quidditch-" –suddenly she rather felt than saw a hand grabbing her arm, and before she could inhale for the next word, she was squeezed through an invisible tube with force and landed on the bank of the River Trent with a loud pop and a furious Snape in her face.
"What the bloody hell are you blabbering about, girl?" – he had yet to let go of her arm, and now he shook it slightly.
"Lucius Malfoy and his plotting for the Quidditch Finals! I know what he's about and what he had done to Lucinda Talkalot and how he tried to blame it on my Aunt! Congrats on not tutoring her daughter, by the way, a wise decision, but you had no reason to tell her I was exceptional if you never meant it! The girl is dumb as a sack of bat-shite but had sense enough to find me when her mother was dying! None of your lot would ever find either of them now!" She gabbled and had yet to notice how her hands trembled, so Snape adjusting his hold on her arm took her by surprise.
"I haven't poisoned Lucinda," Snape said in a cold but even voice. "Has your aunt told you that I did?"
"She told me much more than that, but even Mr Burke confirmed that the gossip wasn't false. I don't care about anyone's business! And I will not be forced into courting that Karkaroff, and if you want to avenge him, I'd better not return to school at all!" – the words flooded out as if they had a sense of their own. "This whole craze is about politics and power, and I never cared for those, and neither do my brothers. Tell them to leave us out, and we won't need to speak up. I have ways to defend myself and those who belong to me! I don't mind if Malfoy blows up the Finals, but he'd better not send an assassin on us again! Tell him that, and you won't need to see me anymore!"
Now, she knew she was trembling but had no idea why. She was still pale and sweaty from the previous high she experienced in the crowd. It must have looked as if she was scared. She knew she should be, but Snape didn't even Occlude. She could sense his worry for her, something almost tender… it drove her up the wall because it made no sense at all and kept being overridden by his darker emotions: bitterness, outrage, spite…
"Because you wouldn't return," – Snape surmised with his eyes narrowed on her. "How unfortunate for you to have given your promise already. I will-"
"Damn gratitude! I'm grateful for my sake and not for my brothers! I owe you, not them!" – she screamed until she noticed how he looked around anxiously, then she laughed about his oversensitivity while he dragged her under the stadium's wall, sitting her on a concrete log.
"Silencio! Muffliato," – being hit with the first spell, Anne had no way to ask about the second, and Snape held the wand readily in hand. He looked ridiculous in a red shirt and torn black jeans, playing with a stick. Yet that stick was powerful enough for Anne to try and gather herself.
"I never wanted your gratitude, Rosier. Keep it! Now answer me, girl, can you calm down by yourself, or will I be forced to get you somewhere with a Calming Draught?"
Anne swallowed nervously. She didn't wish to repeat that forceful Apparation, but strangely, she wasn't afraid of him. She tried to get him to lift the charm so she could ask why he wasn't occluding.
Snape shook his head. "Can you stop the histrionics? It's enough if you nod."
After some deep breaths, Anne slowly nodded. However, when his gaze travelled to her still trembling hands, she lost some of her self-confidence.
"I owe you no explanation, girl," – he began then. "But your aunt may know that she was wrong. I have no idea where Lucius or, as a matter of fact, anyone gets their poisons, but surely not from me. I heard about Lucinda," - he added then, slowly as if he was sorry about her fate. "You should tell me what her end had to do with you and your brothers in the first place. My old acquaintance had nothing to do with her. She was considered the widow of your uncle."
Anne mouthed her opinion violently enough for him to lift his silencing charm.
"Mind your words, girl!" – he warned her.
"Scabior!" – she spat as soon as she could. "My brother was attacked by Scabior, and he was supposed to kill him!"
Alarm suddenly overshadowed his mixed emotions, and Snape leaned forward in his stand: "When?"
"Four – I – shit! It was two years ago. It's hard to keep track of the outer time!" – Anne rolled her eyes. "The fact that I was there to help him doesn't mean he didn't intend to kill!"
Strangely, that had Snape scorning and thinking for a long time. Anne began to wonder if she was about to get away with insulting him, and she was astonished he had yet to scold her.
"What's this lunacy about the Quidditch Finals?"
"There will be an attack. Duvessa was sure, and I wouldn't be surprised by what others said. Dumbledore made the Minister a part of his game with the Tournament. They will not let Fudge get stronger. If they cannot stop the Tournament, they will take away the Ministry's glory as the host of the World Cup. Is there no one you bother to talk to? The whole bloody world knows the drill!"
"I'm out of the business," – he said to himself so softly that Anne wasn't even sure if she heard him right. The thought sure didn't give him any joy, though. He grimaced, sighed, and only looked tired when he rubbed his neck with one hand before his usual hint of a disgusted snarl returned. "And under the circumstances, you thought the best to avoid the only place you should be, girl! The miraculous working of a witch's mind, indeed! None of you need enemies!"
Anne stared at him.
"As much luck as your precious aunt had with her allegations, Lucius might not even attend the Finals," – he grumbled then. "And be warned, Rosier, if I don't see you at Hogwarts on the Welcome Feast, I will find you and drag you back where you belong by an ear. Understood?"
"No, sir."
"No, sir? Are you fucking nuts, girl? Spewing all this balderdash while fuckin' Nottingham might get kicked in the arse without me seein' and no, sir? You and that silly bint just go have your bloody nightmares and spare me the horseshite, you bloody dork! Why am I even –"
He huffed and turned on his heel, and Anne thought he would Apparate, but she was wrong. He only used the moment to calm down. His emotions still ranged from confused, almost tender worry to spite and bitterness, but she could see she made him think.
"I shouldn't have-" she began, but he shook his head.
"Spare me!" He turned back and faced Anne after another huff. "I make you a deal, gal. If you're right about the Final, I will let you get away with this shite. But if you were wrong, you will shovel Thestral dung for the rest of your Hogwarts years, which, either way, you will attend."
"Why is it so important to you?" Anne stood up and tried to search his gaze. "Why does it matter so bloody much if one more Snake finishes or not?"
"I happen to be responsible for those Snakes, Rosier, if it somehow escaped your notice." That unbecoming snarl he sported was not foreign on his face. Anne still couldn't discern the vibes that usually marked honesty, so she shook her head.
"That's not it." She said with conviction. "Sir," she added mockingly, not knowing where she found the courage, but she guessed it was all the same at the moment.
Snape's defences suddenly slipped into place, and she couldn't sense his feelings in magic anymore.
"You will not have an answer for that."
"Why?"
"In your own defence, girl. But if you want to torture me about it, you will need to get your arse back at Hogwarts!"
Strangely, this seemed the first reason that more-or-less made sense, and Anne smiled. She liked this strange side of Snape ever since she first heard him talk to Filch in her second year. But now, calmed down, she nervously wondered what repercussions she had to endure for her dare.
The crowd above their head roared again, and she realised they'd missed the second half. After Snape promised her hell for every missed goal, he Apparated her back to a niche, and she could sense his attention on her back while she hustled through the mass to find and apologise to George.
Coming next: Death Eater parade at the Quidditch Final. (a version)
[i] Considering that the Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire timeline does not match the 1994/5 "Muggle calendar," I adjusted the FA Premier League dates when it seemed important to keep up with the book's version.
So the Manchester United vs Queens Park Rangers match, which originally happened on 20th August, a Saturday, falls on a Wednesday in this story. Consequently, the match against Nottingham Forest on Monday, 22nd August, slipped to Sunday, 23rd August. The changes were made not to disturb the original story's insistence that 1st September needs to be a Monday (instead of a Thursday, which, in that year, in reality, it was). Similarly, 27th August Man Unitednited vs Tottenham Hotspur, in this case, will fall on a Wednesday instead of a Saturday, and 31st August against Wimbledon would happen on a Sunday instead of reality's Wednesday.
I will attempt to bring the two timelines closer from the following chapters, following the Muggle calendar for the matches and the Harry Potter calendar for the canon part of this story whenever possible. Still, there will be inconsistencies for convenience's sake, for which I apologise in advance and will not point out individually in the future.
All other nuances about football (the description of the games, the scores, and the players) will follow sports history as it is not controversial to the Harry Potter canon. It only happened on a different day of the week.