CHAPTER 36

I take a seat next to Astoria and Christopher with my friends in the Great Hall. "Part of me wondered if you'd make an appearance for breakfast today, Charlotte," Christopher comments. "I just thought you'd skip out like you did yesterday. Where were you, by the way?"

I smile at him. "I was at breakfast yesterday, Christopher."

"Physically, yes, but you were not present."

"Excuse me?"

"Do you consider staring blankly and not speaking for the whole of breakfast to be a true representation of having breakfast with your friends?"

"Boy, I was up half the night. Forgive me for being tired. Why am I being interrogated?"

He shrugs. "I just wanted to see you defend yourself. Pass me the eggs, will you?"

I look over at Astoria who is doing a very poor job of holding back her laughter. "I feel like you encourage him more than you really should," I say to her as I reach for the eggs.

"If you were in my position, I'm sure you'd do the same."

When the owls swoop into the room, two drop letters off for me. Then a note flutters onto my table—I open this immediately and smile because McGonagall has lifted our temporary ban on Conjuration lessons. While Snape probably had something to do with this, I won't ask him because it might make him never do something so kind again.

So right after breakfast, as McGonagall told me to do in her message, I leave my friends and head to her office. "I'm guessing Slytherin didn't win the match yesterday because I've heard no gloating in the common room," I say casually when I first arrive.

"Potter has turned out to be a rather good captain. He's banded together quite the team."

"Did you expect any less from a boy who's been on the team since his first year?"

Pride shines in her eyes very briefly. "I expected no less from him." It's no secret that she's fond of Harry Potter, as most of the professors are, with the exception of Snape of course. "I noticed that you weren't there."

I shake my head. "I was trying to sleep."

"Sleep? At that hour?"

"My lessons with Professor Snape went longer than we planned. I didn't get back to the common room till . . . roughly three yesterday morning."

"Professor Snape kept you up that long?" she asks with a disapproving tone.

"He's determined to help me get into the Order, so I'm not complaining. In fact, I should be thanking him. My birthday is quickly approaching, and those late nights practicing will probably determine whether I make it into the Order. But I'll admit that it can be difficult to stay focused when I'm that sleepy, so I guess it's good that it's a weekend."

"I wondered why he seemed so unresponsive when I tried speaking with him after the match," she says. "I suppose he was just as tired as you were."

"Well, I would certainly hope so. If not, then I want a dose of whatever he's taking to stay awake."

She smiles but changes the subject. "Is it safe to assume you have still been working on Conjuration though our lessons have been on hold?"

"Yes, but that's not to say I've gotten any better."

"With that attitude, I'm sure you haven't."

Nearly an hour later, there's finally a breakthrough, and for a second, I don't believe I'm the one who performed the Conjuration. One minute there was nothing in front of me, and the next moment there was a chair—not the miniature version that I've been able to do, but a truly normal-sized chair that is as boring as any other in this room. "Professor," I say quietly. Only ten minutes ago did she devote her full attention to marking essays rather than watching me helplessly attempt to Conjure anything despite my form and pronunciation being correct. She sets the quill down, her lips turned up slightly in a tiny but proud smile. I almost believe I'd do anything to make her stay proud of me like that. "I think I Conjured a chair—unless you did that to keep my spirits high."

"That wasn't me, Rodgers, I assure you."

I take a step closer to it and sit down gingerly, smiling broadly because I did it. After months and months of one disappointment followed by the other, I've finally done it! Seconds later, the chair disappears—I land roughly on my backside and grown both in pain and frustration before laughing in utter disbelief and exasperation, flopping onto my back and covering my face with my hands. "I should've known."

"Are you injured?" she asks from the other side of her desk.

"Just my pride," I whine.

There comes a short, breathy laugh from her, and I smile, then myself back up to my feet and pop my back. McGonagall watches me with great amusement and a touch of concern. "The quality of the Conjuration might not have been what you were hoping for, but you managed to Conjure a normal-sized chair, which is more than you were able to accomplish before."

"If this chair breaks or disappears when I sit on it, I'm going to be upset, I think." I sit down in front of her desk carefully. "I'm almost beginning to believe that I'm not meant to Conjure anything."

"How do you expect to become a professor if you give up?"

A laugh escapes me. "Who said anything about expecting to become a professor?"

"Your young friend, Mr. Collins, seems to believe that is your wish. He and the other first years believe that's why you were willing to continue tutoring them. And from the sound of it, you seem to be quite gifted at it. You managed to teach Mitchells the Switching Spell, something she has been struggling to do from fear of failing."

"That's just the intimidating quality you have, but I've never said anything to any of them about wanting to be a professor."

"An intimidating quality?" She seems surprised. As if she doesn't attempt to be intimidating. "Do you find me intimidating?"

"When I first met you, I thought you were going to kick me out of the castle. Then I spoke to you about Transfiguration—I asked why I couldn't use Transfiguration to change things into bread. I felt like a complete fool. And I remained afraid of you—I still half-expected you to kick me out of the castle—until you saved me from Professor Snape."

"I believe you Stunned him," she says.

"That's right. And I thought he was going to kill me. Granted, he did have a legitimate reason to be so upset with me." I smirk at the thought of our fight and at how easily we got under each other's skin. "He once frightened me as well. Then he started teaching me Occlumency, and I learned that he is not nearly as horrifying—or as terrible of a person, for that matter—as he likes people to believe."

"So you trust him now?"

"I do. He's seen the darkest of my memories, he knows things about me that I didn't even know about until these lessons started, and I really have no choice but to trust him."

She seems to debate something internally, then asks a few short moments later, "Was there anything in particular that led you to trust him? Something he's said or done? You were so uncertain when you came to visit over the break."

"I'm afraid there's not one moment in time I can point to. We share similar experiences, which is something I wouldn't have believed before he started teaching me Occlumency. But the spell rebounded a few times, and I saw his memories. I'm surprised he didn't Obliviate them." I shrug. "If you're asking what makes Professor Dumbledore trust him so much, I'm afraid I can't answer." Well, I could answer because I think I know what the true answer is: Snape's love for Lily. But I can't tell McGonagall this because I'm not entirely sure if that's correct and because I'm sure there's a reason why Snape and Dumbledore see fit to keep that a secret.

"We'll probably never know," she says.

"That's probably true, unfortunately, but if I ever find out, you'll be the first person I tell." I look down at my hands and wring my fingers together. Such lies.

"Is there something you wish to tell me?" she asks after a few minutes of my silence.

I want to tell you the truth about Snape. I sigh. "I got a letter from Bellatrix the other day, and I guess I should have told you sooner because you're the Deputy Headmistress and there's a Death Eater sending letters to a student but . . ." She doesn't need to know about the casual conversation Bellatrix and I have begun, but she should maybe know about the first letter my mother sent earlier this term.

McGonagall pauses for a moment, considering, before asking what Bellatrix had said.

"She said the usual stuff. She told me not to trust anyone because if they know who I truly am they'll kill me. She said I have to watch myself because things will be dangerous at Hogwarts this year. She said that I have to be careful because the Order is patrolling the castle at night—I don't know how she knows that. She said that if anyone in the Order finds out who I am, they'll take me for leverage."

"Do you have this letter?"

"I burned it."

"You—you burned it?"

"I was angry." Heat flushes my face even though I wasn't the one who destroyed the letter. "Snape sometimes describes me 'emotionally compromised.' And I think he might be right because I didn't realize what I was doing until it was too late."

"Everyone experiences moments like that in their life," she says kindly. "After everything you've been through, I would be shocked if you were not."

"If only everyone could be as understanding as that."

"Not everyone realizes what you've been through."

I look away from her.

"Rodgers, with the Order patrolling the castle and with Professor Dumbledore here, I don't believe you need to worry about what Bellatrix said might happen this year—about someone dying."

It's like she can read my mind. "You're certain?"

"Yes."

Guilt pricks at me a bit as I think about how I could warn McGonagall, but I know that my discretion is for the best because Draco would be in danger if I told the truth.

I leave shortly after that and take a detour to the library before returning to the dungeon. There, I find a table and begin writing an answer to Bellatrix.

Dear Mum,

Please tell my aunt that I am simply wracked with guilt for that betrayal and I swear on my honor to never do that again. I look forward to seeing her again.

My Astronomy O.W.L. was particularly atrocious. There were precious few opportunities to learn that while on the run. Perhaps that subject can be added to my holiday lessons next summer—if you're amendable to it, of course. I'm not sure it'll serve me as well as nonverbal spells, but I wouldn't mind learning from you if that's allowed.

I'd love to play some more card games with you both.

The only other Hogsmeade weekend I know of is 1 March.

Aurelia

After sending this letter back to the manor, I return to the Slytherin Dungeon where I find Daphne and the others playing a round of Exploding Snap and join in without any complaint. "Have you told Fred about the Slug Club Christmas Party?" Christopher asks.

I snort. "You think that's a conversation I want to have?"

Astoria says, "Well, you did get a letter from him this morning. You could always make it an addendum at the end. Make it sound like you don't want to go but that you're doing it as a favor for someone else. Ginny's part of that club too, right? You could make it seem like you're just trying to keep an eye on her. You know what, no, don't pull that card. Reserve that for a later date. Just make it seem like you don't want to go."

"So you want me to lie to him?"

Grant looks up quickly, smiling deviously. "Well, this is scandalous. Do you want to go to the Christmas party with Zabini?"

"He's attractive," Julia says without looking up from the book in front of her. "Can you really blame her if she wants to go with him?"

"You're all ridiculous," I say. "I'm just going to tell Fred the truth—Zabini asked me to go, and I said yes on behalf of another friend who needed me to."

"And just who would this other friend be?" Astoria whispers, glancing around the room conspiratorially. Daphne glances up at her but makes no comment. "As far as I can tell, you don't branch out beyond us really. And I don't think any of us asked you to say yes."

Ella chuckles. "She's got a point, Charlotte."

"You don't know all the details of my life."

I feel at home as their laughter washes over me.

I stand just outside Snape's office door that night, debating whether I should even attempt speaking with him. As curfew approaches, nearly twenty minutes after I first began standing here, I finally decide and knock—there is no answer, but I try once more regardless, only to receive the same result. Rather than attempting to knock again, I open the door and walk inside. "Professor," I greet him.

He looks up from the papers on his desk. "I thought it might be you knocking on my door so close to curfew. You do know you have to be back in the common room in ten minutes, yes?"

"First of all, if you knew it was me, why did you remain silent instead of giving me permission to enter?" He frowns at me. "Second, you keep me practicing Occlumency into the ungodly hours of the night, so why is it such a big deal if I fail to make it back to the common room of my own volition? And third, I came to ask you something."

"It does no good to give you permission or not because you'll just enter either way, as I'm sure we're both aware. Having permission from a professor to remain out later than curfew is different than staying out because you feel like it. And I'm sure there's no point in telling you I have no desire to hear your question."

"Yeah, there's no point in that, because this is incredibly important."

Snape grimaces, his attention back on the papers before him.

"You took the Unbreakable Vow to protect Draco, correct?"

He makes an uncommitted sound.

"And if I learn something about what he's doing, I should probably tell you about it, right?"

Finally, he looks up at me. "What have you learned?"

"I imagine you're aware that it was Draco who cursed the necklace?"

"Surely you didn't barge into my office to offer such an obvious piece of information."

"He's trying something else. I . . ." Snape can't know about the Vanishing Cabinet—I can't betray Draco's trust like that, not when he's trying to stall his mission so I can be free this last Christmas—but I feel the overwhelming need to confide in Snape. He needs to know something about Draco's plan so he can better protect him. "He's trying to find a way to get the Death Eaters into Hogwarts. He thinks he's found a way." Snape leans forward in his chair, now intrigued by what I have to offer him. "And he's trying to perfect it, trying to make sure the Death Eaters can breach the Hogwarts protection spells, circumvent them, enter through an area that is not well-guarded and does not have charms blocking it."

"Do you know how he plans to accomplish this?"

I shrug. "He hasn't seen fit to divulge that much of the plan yet, but I thought you should know that he thinks he's found a way."

He nods. "You may leave now. We will resume your lessons tomorrow."

But I need to tell you about the Vanishing Cabinet. I get up and leave his office.

"Where'd you go?" Daphne asks me when I join them in the common room again.

"I needed to ask Snape something."

"Wanna share with the group what you needed to ask him?" Ella asks innocently, not looking up from her the game of Exploding Snap that a few of them are still playing.

"Not in the slightest, but thanks for the suggestion."

She grins but still does not look at me.

When no one else asks about my meeting with Snape, I reach into my robes and pull out the letters from Zoe and Fred that still need answers.

I read Zoe's first and learn that her job at the Three Broomsticks is going well. She's become a favorite of Rosmerta. She's finished the painting of her liberating me from Snape and Hogwarts and wants to show me in person the next time I come to Hogsmeade.

She, of course, signs off with yet another Marcus Aurelius quote, which, despite my frustrated act, has become one of my favorite Zoe traditions.

P.S. If my calculations are correct, your birthday is just a few weeks away, yeah? Which means your lessons will be over soon as well. So, here are some wise words from your great namesake: "Sprint for the finish. Write off your hopes, and if your well-being matters to you, be your own savior while you can."

P.P.S. Don't literally write off your hopes though. Those are important.

I smile at her words. "Fred?" Astoria asks me.

"No, this one's from Zoe."

"They both write you regularly?"

"Yeah."

She turns to Daphne, and they begin speaking quietly.

I ignore them and start my reply, making sure to congratulate her on her role as Rosmerta's favorite and answer all her questions about the classes I'm taking and my lessons with McGonagall and Snape. Then I ask her for advice.

I need some help. Draco has told me his plan—well, not all of it, but enough. He needs me to distract Snape during the Slug Club Christmas Party (a party for Slughorn's favorite students, the ones who have connections in the Ministry or will probably make it far in life and be able to help him). I know you hate him, but you know my connection with him, and I feel like I need to help him in order not to raise suspicions. Anyways, Draco had Zabini—yes, Blaise Zabini—ask me to this party because Snape will be there. I have to tell Fred about this party, right? But how do I do that? What do I say? How do I make it clear that I don't really want to go with Zabini but I need to for Draco?

Sincerely,
Charlotte

P.S. I've been reading Meditations like you told me to, and here's a quote for no apparent reason: "Time is a river, a violent current of events, glimpsed once and already carried past us, and another follows and is gone." You're welcome.

I then begin my letter to Fred, making sure to mention absolutely nothing about the Christmas party.

As my birthday quickly approaches, my lessons with Snape become more exhaustive and intense. We practice long past curfew without any breaks, and try as I might to be frustrated with him about this, I simply cannot be. He's doing all that he can to help me join the Order, regardless of how inconvenient this extra work is for the both of us, which makes it impossible to be truly angry with him. And I especially can't be angry with him because I've actually become so much better.

Even in my sleep I can almost always manipulate my thoughts so Snape only sees what I want him to see, and I can lie almost perfectly to him now while under the effects of the Veritaserum. But I think my progress has come at a price. Snape has begun trying harder to break into my mind, because now, every time I shuffle back to the Slytherin Dungeon, there is a pounding in my head so intense I can hardly keep my eyes open. I've debated bringing this up to him but decided against it. With our track record, he'd only use Legilimency with more force just to make the headaches worse because "the Dark Lord wouldn't take pity on you in that manner."

But I'll deal with any number of headaches to be able to stop him from seeing my memories. I just need to be able to hold my complaints long enough to face Dumbledore's test to prove that I can join the Order.

One of my many problems is solved a few days later when I receive another letter from Zoe during breakfast in the Great Hall. Despite the ever-painful pounding in my head, I smile broadly when Milo swoops down to me when the owls all arrive. I waste no time tearing it open and reading what she has to say.

Marcus. Zabini? ZABINI? As in Blaise "I'm better than everyone and hotter than everyone and the most perfect human being who ever walked the other so don't come near me" Zabini? Why? Why would Draco ask you to do something so absolutely revolting? I got the chills just imagining you walking into the Christmas party on his arm—literal chills. And for a moment I contemplated cold-blooded murder. The only problem is that I've no idea how to sneak back into Hogwarts to kill him.

However, I see why you would say yes. Draco needs you, and you care about him. So you're obviously going to have to go, aren't you? Ew. I can't stand the thought of Zabini touching you with any part of his body—whether he escorts you like a gentleman or if he walks into that party with his arm around you. And Merlin, what will you do if he makes a pass at you? You know what, no, kick him in the balls if he does that, yeah? Just don't let him touch you at all really, because he's disgusting and will leave a stench on you.

Now that I've got that off my chest, I can see your dilemma with the Gryffindor. I assume he knows about you and Draco? If not, this becomes much harder.

Make it seem like you don't want to go. Write him complaining that Draco has asked you to do this absolutely nauseating favor. Tell him it's not something you want to do. Make it seem like this is the worst thing that could've happened for Christmas.

If you need a little leverage, offer to send him a picture of you in the dress you wear. I'm also assuming here that you do in fact have something to wear to this thing? If not, you can borrow something of mine. Don't argue.

Anyways, back to the task at hand. Here's how you should do this:

1) Make it seem like you absolutely hate the idea of going to this Christmas party

2) Then make it seem like you even more so hate the idea of going with anyone who isn't your Gryffindor

3) Make sure he knows that you find Zabini revolting (you do, don't you? please tell me you do)

4) Explain to him that this is on behalf of Draco—don't say why Draco needs you to do this unless he writes back and asks

5) Offer a picture—I'm sure that'll win him over

If that doesn't work, burn his letter and act like you never got it. I know what you're thinking—"Oh, but Zoe, that's lying and I love him." Oh well. You love Draco too, right? Or you feel some sort of loyalty to him and want to help him. This'll work, I promise.

Zoe goes on to answer my questions about the Three Broomsticks, but I don't spend time reading it right now. I'm developing what I should say to Fred in my next letter to him.

Now that part of the Slug Club Christmas Party issue is out of the way, I need only to focus on Occlumency and how I will defend myself against Dumbledore's tests when my birthday arrives.