TN_Chapter 38.
End of November
(19)
The blissful lie-in on Saturday morning only further elevated Anne's mood. Being the long-awaited Hogsmeade weekend, the Great Hall was almost empty when Anne ventured up for breakfast. She found a note from Sophie about her plans in the village, saying she had departed early to show the Beauxbatons around. What she didn't expect were the three second-years who hid in the Entrance Hall to cast a Trip Jinx when she finished eating and scampered away, whooping about showing up an upper year.
Blast them!
Anne collected the notes that had fallen from the library book she was reading by breakfast and resigned herself to a short update on shield charms and soft duelling jinxes in her tower. Pricey couldn't be happier about the turn of events. After about half an hour of target shooting on the small materialised tiger, Anne finally felt a hint of comfort if she thought about Slytherin's Common Room and the next DADA class.
Half a day just for herself without the chore of various homework research or the necessity to turn back time was still novel. She visited Pippin's Apothecary and Gladrags, having a good time sorting through the new shipment of essential oils and finding a flowy midnight blue dress robe with silver and turquoise embroidery running down across the long neckline and around the funnel finger sleeves. It tastefully accentuated her curves and came with an undergarment of the same colour and fabric she wished she could wear, at least as a nightgown, because it felt like water splashing against her skin. Alas, a shared dorm wasn't a place for such silliness. The whole ensemble was useless, and she had nowhere to wear such a piece. But to try it on in the loneliness of the fitting room, silently admitting to herself that after years of embarrassment, she finally felt more or less happy with the way she looked, was giddily empowering and also, if she was sincere, exciting experience.
She walked out of Gladrags like she knew a secret and bit her lips together not to smile. The weather had nothing about it. She felt like the sun was shining and she could kill any beast crossing her path.
Moody walked out of the Three Broomsticks before she entered; his mood advertised by magic his satisfaction about something, but she gave no mind to him. The Beauxbatons boys sat with Sophie and two Ravenclaw girls from the NEWT classes they had taken, but her friend waved for her to join, and Chad Noir got her a chair at breakneck speed. His eagerness to please her was almost as ridiculous as Penelope Clearwater's jealousy, but something gave the boy's attention a similar vibe to what she got used to from Dan White in the summer.
Anne looked him over for the first time with the eye of a possible choice, and she realised that she had never had a lover who knew anything about magic. Would that be different? His hair hung under his cheekbone, slightly curved, unlike Chris Jones's. Nimue, she hadn't wasted a thought on that boy and the awkward first kiss since her third year! But Chad had similar features with his blue eyes and darker complexion… the hair colour was off, though… more similar to Paul's… His long fingers played with his glass, half-empty of the butterbeer Sophie made him try, and Anne could sense he hated, caressing it by the handle like Snape's paler fingers grazed her skin when he healed her bruises after midnight…
No, not like that! Banish the thought!
Anne dismissed the inappropriate memory to an unvisited recess of her mind and smiled at Chad, asking about his last Charms class.
The afternoon slowly grew on them, and the Claws returned to the castle when their seventh-year classmates called them away. Sophie finally let Jacques ask about the hidden corridors and showed the cave-like cove under the shore of the Black Lake, where the boats delivered the first years before the sorting.
"There's a secret entrance from the dungeons," – she told them. "Next time I can sneak you inside, you will see. The stairs to the Entrance Hall are close to the Great Hall, but one can also get into the cave from the other side. Or we can visit the boathouse tomorrow."
"I would love to see the cave," – Jacques decided. "I haven't seen a boat on this lake for the whole month we've been here. I doubt they are free to use. Unless –"
"There are easier ways to get caught than to borrow a boat without permission," – Sophie quickly stopped his imagination, but it was too late with Chad:
"You speak as if there weren't charms to hide a boat if we tried! I say, let's see those crafts and see what we can make of them!"- he said.
Anne sensed Sophie's secret joy about the idea while her friend shook her head with fake hesitance. "It's too dangerous. I can't make you take such a risk! What if we got caught with you like that?"
"If you want to stay behind, you may, of course," – Jacques assured her. "Just show us where to go so we can explore the water."
"You could also meet us in that cave after," – Chad suggested, incidentally slipping a hand around Anne's waist. "We would sail in, and you could make it worth the trouble… what do you think, Anabelle?"
"We could…" – she teased him. "But would we want to do that? What makes the effort worthy for us?"
Chad leaned close to her ear and smelled the perfume on her hair before he whispered: "If you do it, Anabelle, I will make it worth it for you!"
Anne swallowed a smile, and Sophie seemed satisfied. "All right, then we should choose the right time. The first task of the Tournament is in just four days from now. I'm sure you can wait that long! Everyone will buzz around the Champions after, so you can safely float from the boathouse to the dock."
"That's the way," Jacques warmed up even more. "We're having our Tournament with you, sweethearts!" He kissed Sophie on the cheek, and they were off toward their carriage.
"Why do you want them to see the boathouse?" – Anne asked Sophie on their way back to the castle's entrance.
"Not the boathouse. I want them in the cave." When Anne just stared at her, she shrugged. "It's easier to show, and we'll be there before them. Don't worry! I thought the whole thing out. We don't even have to sneak them in like last time when I showed you the corridor from the courtyard! Easier to hide, too. Come now!"
Anne didn't like the vibes of her emotions. They were calculating and anxious, but she knew she wouldn't get her to say anything more, and if she didn't want to let her go alone, she had to play her part. Strangely, Chad's advances didn't give a lasting thrill, either. They were amusing on the spot but couldn't stop her from thinking, and she began to wish she had someone who could do that. Even that midnight blue dress had more success with that than this boy…
Sunday was better and worse. She escaped the castle, spent time with the Smiths, and watched the match with George on the TV. Manchester United had a fantastic game in November. She enjoyed the wins against Newcastle, Aston Villa, and Manchester City. Now, she was blown away when the Red Devils beat Crystal Palace with three scores against nothing, which made George swear he would go out and watch them against Arsenal in person the following week! On the downside, she found that Rachel had caught a cold, and the frustration of making tea with honey and offering ibuprofen instead of a magical brew that would have sorted her out within the hour was hard to endure.
Anne left her aunt with enough handkerchiefs and blankets and hoped for the best while Monday rushed in. Moody ordered them into pairs, sending the furniture to the side of the classroom. This time, she had enough sense to stand far from the pile. Cho Chang lifted her wand against her with an apologetic smile, and she cast a nonverbal Protego, then managed to jinx the girl's wand so slippery that the Ravenclaw had a hard time collecting it from the floor. The other – more important – win was making one of the impudent third years drop his wand with a quick Expelliarmus when she sensed antagonism and cheek from behind a corner down in the dungeons. She hoped his mates would remember to spread the tale, and the ambushes relent because, honestly, she wasn't the kind who walked around with a ready wand.
The afternoon shifts at the St Mungo's overshadowed her Tuesday performance in classes. She'd already lived the morning twice, doing classwork and tending to Rachel, when Spleen requested her presence at the Bugs Ward, and she could tell he kept a keen eye on her. It made little sense for most, for they suspected that Sheambaum might have plans for her future, but as it seemed, Mediwizard Spleen didn't forget her performance under the Frog flu either. Frank told her not to give either of them a mind so she wouldn't be gutted when nothing came off the whole thing, but it was hard to follow this advice. As a Wiz-nurse, she wouldn't just have felt better about herself. It would be an achievement she would have finally reached alone. She would have also earned more money and had some prestige – if not much – which an assistant nurse could never brag about.
The temptation was great, but Spleen said nothing, and she had to beg off for Wednesday because, with all the madness around the Tournament and visitors coming to Hogwarts, she dared not to risk sneaking away for London.
The only memorable moment at Hogwarts was when she finished her Potions class and handed in her already-prepared essay. She put the parchment with her lung potion under her homework and was highly amused by Snape's surprise when he found the mischief. His fingers touched the too-thick pile, and he halted for a moment. Then, finishing whatever he'd been telling the class, he turned towards his desk and separated the two. She only saw his back, but it went rigid briefly before he folded the two parchments and put them to the bottom of the pile. When he turned, he didn't look at her, and his face was blank, but by dinner in the Great Hall, she saw again that amused, contemplative glance she got used to on their last detentions. It told her he had seen her work and had a lot to say about it, most of which she expected to glare at her in red ink and would be mortifying to read through.
On the morning of the Tournament's first task, Snape was immersed in his tense and foreboding self, which all his snakes recognised was better not to poke. Anne guessed it must have resulted from the joint effort of Potter's silliness and Karkaroff's tactlessness, but she had little time to waste lamenting that. Poppy sent word that she wanted to see her, so instead of classes, she hurried to join her in the Infirmary.
They walked to the Forbidden Forest, which gave Anne chills, but Poppy assured her there was a clearing made for the Tournament's purposes. As they followed the wide path and entered the clearing, she saw a huge flame jet shooting above the trees' crown. The following roar left no question about the source, and even if it was shameful to admit, Anne screamed like a banshee, determined to return to the castle as soon as her panic-stricken legs defrosted!
"Stop that, you're scaring them!" – a round-faced redhead stepped closer and asked Poppy to give her a Calming Draught. That finally changed Anne's fright into outrage.
"Scaring them? Them?! Since when are there fucking DRAGONS here, for Pete's sake! Are you nuts?!"
While Poppy enthusiastically agreed, the young wizard had a hearty laugh.
"They are for the Tournament. You're not one of the Champions, are you?"
"I'm not that insane!" – Anne protested. "I help out in the Infirmary tent."
"Cool," – the redhead grinned. "And I make sure the beast won't get too loose. Charlie Weasley, dragonologist. See? There's our team under the trees."
Looking more keenly than to spot a two-story-tall fire-spewing monster, Anne observed about a dozen more wizards who seemed to be in charge. Her stomach was still upset, but she could force some reason.
"Well, thank you for that… Charlie… Weasley?"
The wizard glanced at her green and silver tie as he nodded. "Yeah. D'you perhaps have objections?"
"I only object to dragons, not to anyone who tames them… Can they be tamed at all?"
"They can be managed," – Charlie hedged, and Anne dearly hoped he knew what he was about.
Poppy had already moved through the clearing, and Anne had to hurry after her if she didn't wish to lose her way among the half-erected tents and tribunes. If Snape knew about this insanity, it was no wonder that he was so tense, she only wondered how any of the teachers had agreed to this madness at all.
Poppy was in a bad mood, so they worked in silence. They hung the privacy curtains and separated four spaces for beds, adding and enlarging the miniaturised cots and using cleaning and antiseptic charms on all the surfaces before they prepared the quickly established potions cabinet and unpacked their bags.
"I remember Charlie Weasley," Poppy finally said. "He was a responsible boy. A prefect if I don't misremember. Try not to think about the dragons, duck, just trust he knows what he's up to!"
Considering there weren't many alternatives but to leave her to her own devices or to persevere, Anne mutely nodded and returned to work.
The stands slowly filled with spectators, the air was full of excitement and anticipation, and she could sense the fright of many even without poking her nose out of the tent. Then soon, with four distinctive bouts of dread and apprehension, the Champions arrived into the neighbouring white tent, the last of them adding reluctance to the mix of negative emotions that already made her queasy. The overall weave of feelings was infused with hope, fake cheer, concern, and all levels of worry, bombarded with the enthusiasm and curiosity of hundreds from the stands. When she heard Ludo Bagman's cheerful voice announcing the first task of the Triwizard Tournament and the first Champion, Cedric Diggory, her heart bumped as loudly as if it wanted to match the Champions'. She focused on her inner world and took a mental step back.
Anne wasn't brave enough to peek out and watch Diggory's performance. It was frightening enough to imagine the Arena and all the horrors that Bagman's voice described. Her senses told her everything about the crowd's emotions and the disturbing feeling of such monsters in magic. When it came to the point where the dragon blew its fire onto the Huff, she almost screamed, and Poppy stepped out from the first-aid tent to see whether she was required to get closer to the victim. Anne admired her determination and was relieved when it wasn't needed.
Diggory was carried into their care while Bagman announced Fleur Delacour so Anne couldn't follow whatever happened to the Beauxbatons girl. The burns covered Cedric's left side from his upper arm to his face. Their first priority was making sure the injuries didn't damage his eyesight. Poppy cast the medical chart above his head, and they got to work. The eye was blissfully intact.
The mediwitch ordered Burn Paste and antiseptic patches, which Anne applied. However, with such extensive damage, she could sense that the pain was nigh unbearable. Poppy suggested a Sleeping Draught, which Diggory refused with clenched teeth and a shake of his head. Before either of them could talk sense into him, the Beuaxbatons girl came in, leaning heavily on one of her mates' shoulders.
Poppy closed the curtain on Cedric and gestured for Anne to finish him up. First, she was petrified by the renewing uproar outside, then she gathered herself and tried to find a way to convince Diggory about the Sleeping Draught. She sensed precisely why he was so adamant to refuse it despite the pain. It wasn't mere pride; it was worry. And to understand it better, and to escape from the roaring monsters outside, Anne delved into the boy's thoughts.
The first shock was struggling through the events of Cedric's last hour, watching him steal a golden egg from the she-dragon from his point of view. Anne did her best not to relay how much all that freaked her out; instead, she tried to focus on Cedric's pain. There was a determination to get through it, a hint of self-pity, and a dash of worry for… Potter? Why would everyone worry for the Boy Who Lived all the time?
Reaching for the thought, Anne saw the castle's corridor in front of the Charms classroom and the moment Cedric's bookbag was torn. He felt so embarrassed! Like other times when he thought he was an imposter and would once wake up from this strange dream where the Goblet had chosen him and all his pals now looked at him with adoration… It was lonely in a weird way he had never known… he thought about his father, who kept telling him in his every letter how much he deserved all of it, and his mother, who reminded him never to misuse his peers' trust… He sent them ahead to class. There was no reason for everyone to be late. Not for his sake. He never believed himself truly deserving, he only went along.
Then the unthinkable happened.
The miserable Potter boy, whom he secretly pitied for the mindless cheat that ended him going up against a challenge he most certainly wasn't ready for, showed a spine he secretly wondered whether he himself possessed.
Dragons!
Giant, REAL dragons….
Everybody knew.
Karkaroff and Maxime saw them.
Everybody knew – but he.
Anne finally understood that Cedric would never accept a Sleeping Draught before he was sure about Potter. He didn't dare tell them because he would have had to explain his reasons, too… and the pain was mounting with every second as the adrenaline slowly left his system. Anne sighed.
"Diggory, listen, there might be another way… Have you ever tried meditating?" she asked when Cedric seemed hopeful. When he shook his head, Anne remembered how Snape had protected her mind in her second year and hoped she wouldn't mess it up. "Do you trust me?"
Cedric nodded without hesitation, explaining why she had seemed to be Hufflepuff for her House Head in her early years. Snape had once gotten itches from her blind trust, and now Anne had to admit that receiving such a thing felt peculiar indeed.
"All right, you'll need to follow the deep breathing I show you. I will make you think about pleasant things…" – she faltered, afraid of showing too much. "…with this potion, right?" Anne conjured a glass phial and filled it with water. "You have to drink this. It gives you pleasant thoughts. I need you to follow them. Immerse yourself into them, and whatever pops into your mind, hold on to them. Can you do this?"
When there was another hesitant nod, she made him drink the water and taught Cedric to breathe. She waited until he calmed a notch, then stepped through his eyes again, attempting to relay calm and peace…
Cedric's mind conjured a vision about his home's garden, where the family kneazle lay lazily by the flowerbed, and a fresh pie's scent slowly filled the air… It was nearing teatime, and the birds chirped lazily on the branches above him… Clever boy, hold on to this – Anne whispered to him and stepped behind the vision to find the pain. It took time and effort, but she managed to barricade the worst with memories that carried a sense of home. Like cushions, they dulled the worst of the burnt wound, dimmed the uncomfortable stings of the orange Burn Paste to a breath of the wind, and let the boy calm down.
Anne retreated from Diggory's mind and observed his face briefly. He looked more like himself. She sensed that the tent had since welcomed the third occupant and checked on Krum, whom Poppy had just declared unharmed. Then, with a flourish of activity, the outside buzzed again, and Potter appeared in the opening. She watched Poppy take over and Diggory lingering around as if he had no discomfort. When the mediwitch finally let all of the champions leave, she flopped down on the closest chair and exhaled a sigh…
"Good job, duck," – Poppy sat beside her. "Dare I hope after this someone would think before the tasks are sorted?"
Anne snorted. "Unlikely." And somehow, Poppy found reason to chuckle with her.
The nervous energy left them, and what remained was only the chore of packing up the circus and returning it to the castle and a hint of fatigue neither of them anticipated or welcomed. Anne wistfully thought of Frank's cigarettes, then hopped off her chair and began cleaning the beds, linens, and tools. At the same time, Poppy methodically took stock of the remaining potions before she put them in a safe case and miniaturised the cabinet and the beds.
Within half an hour, they were also ready to dissemble the tent. They left it neatly on the grass for the house elves to collect with the rest of the remains of the day's debris and slowly walked back toward the castle when Anne spotted Chad and his pals with a bunch of Hufflepuff sixth years, playing the ancient game of spinning the bottle by the Lake. Curiously, it didn't make her jealous, only amused.
"You can go, join them," – Poppy offered, following her glance. "You deserve to have fun. It was a long day."
"They are having enough fun without me," – Anne shrugged lightly. "And I think I can live a happy life without ever kissing Sam Sumerby!"
"Unlike the Smith girl," – Poppy chuckled, watching the small crowd. "What about one of the visitors? I heard you and your friend, Miss Borgin, liked to spend time with them."
Anne was astonished. "I had no idea it was worth a gossip!" – she laughed to hide her surprise. "We had a beer in Hogsmeade, and they kept asking about the castle on our way back."
"Is that all?" – Poppy raised an eyebrow, and her curiosity all but clasped around her. "Pomona saw you from the greenhouse. She said you looked in good hands…"
Anne would have blushed if that half-embrace meant a thing at all, but as it was…
"Professor Sprout might have seen friendly banter," – she chuckled at the face Poppy made. "I don't need a matchmaker. Especially not to match me with a wizard like Chad! I admit he looks like a biscuit, but it's rat shite, not chocolate. And he is also not interested."
"If you say so… But with or without a Time Turner, you should think about boys, duck. Life doesn't wait for anyone, and I have never seen you discover your chances."
"I like it boring," – Anne thought about Dan and Paul and how happy she was that her time with them wasn't common knowledge. "Anyway, one misstep from a witch, and all good houses would shun her. I'd rather have my dignity than a famous love story everyone knows, but nothing follows."
"Like Pomona and Filius?" – Poppy asked back with insight. "Perhaps we shouldn't have told you," – she sighed. "But not all stories end badly, even if none of us could make it. Irma was happy for a while, as I gather… or maybe she just thought she had been. And Mona had a few nice years before the war."
"And you, Poppy?" – Anne carefully asked as they mounted the stairs to the hospital wing.
The mediwitch's wistful smile told everything even before she spoke. "I bet on the wrong horse," – she admitted. "It happens. But life is more than delusions in love."
Anne agreed, and Poppy was finally reminded why she wasn't supposed to push her. It was late enough for most to gather in the Great Hall, so she sneaked up to the fourth floor and hurried through the portal to spend an hour with her aunt.
Rachel felt better but had a long way to go to recover fully. Anne finally worried less, but there was still enough to unsettle her. Something irked her about the gossip Poppy told her, although she was also angry at Sprout for spoiling Argus' birthday in the first place. Chad Noir could rot by her, but if Slytherin caught on the rumours, she wouldn't have a calm moment before the year was done, and to top it, her nerves still trembled by the memory of that blasted dragon roar!
Sweet Nimue! She wasn't built for that! She hated duelling and listening to enormous beasts flapping their wings while she tried to work! They felt raw and ferocious in magic, like a force of nature suppressing everything else and making her feel small. Their mere presence forced her to work against their influence on her sensitive nervous system, ringing all bells of danger whatever she was about to do! And the insanity of the magical leaders brought them onto school grounds! Blast them and Hogwarts! Any day at St. Mungo's was more sober with the occasional mad rush, was worth more of her efforts and presented more chance to advance than that bloody castle she had to return to!
She bought her first pack of cigarettes by sheer rebellion and wondered where to light one up before she remembered Sophie's stupid plan.
Anne reluctantly Apparated back to Hogwarts and caught up with her friend on the stairs behind the Great Hall that led down to the docks and the Lake's shore under the castle.
"Ssh! You're too loud!" Sophie pointed her wand at Anne's shoes and charmed them soundless before she hurried on down the stairs.
They arrived at a small hall only lit by a single torch, but Anne remembered it used to dance in light when those precarious boats once spat them on shore as innocent and uncertain first years. On the other side, the tall wooden door carved into the rocks of the castle's foundations stood in darkness. Sophie rushed to it like a witch possessed, lifted a wand, and began to chant. It felt as if the walls tried to move around them.
"Sophie! You cannot play with the wards!" – Anne whispered urgently. "You mustn't!"
"SSH!" Sophie didn't bother to turn and restarted with the spells... the rocks under her feet and around them let go of a part of the magic that sealed the castle, and the door slowly opened. "See? There's nothing wrong with it! It's just a ward, keeping the door closed, come!"
Sophie walked through toward the gust of wind and the smell of dampness and disappeared from her sight. It was mind-blowingly stupid, and Anne only dared to tiptoe after her. Her senses scanned the walls and the door around as she walked through, and she felt that Sophie's magic only opened a breach through the wards. It didn't make it better. Breaching Hogwarts' ward should be punished by expulsion, and she doubted Dumbledore or one of the teachers responsible for casting them couldn't sense that somehow.
"How did you learn this in the first place?" – she whispered, catching up with her friend on the other side. The cave was dark and cold, and she could hear the waves splashing onto the shore. Sophie's cheer and anticipation were in odd conflict with her mindset.
"You're not the only one who can use a library!" – she laughed. "Don't be so nervous, Annie! I've been coming down here since my second year whenever I want a little reprieve. Look!"
Upon her wand's swishing and a spell that sounded like Faxardenta, which Anne recalled as an earlier version for Lumos, the cave sprang to life with at least a dozen hidden sources of light that danced on the stone walls, illuminating overhanging parts and encircling troughs of shadows. Sophie showed her a deep well in the corner.
"There's the entrance from the dungeon side. That part isn't even secured with a ward. I just didn't want those morons to know that way."
"Sophie!"
"I'm responsible enough to protect the entrance, see?" – she tried to convince Anne. "I wouldn't show them how the castle can be breached! I'll restore the wards on our way back upstairs. Now come, I want to show you why we came here!"
"Sophie, someone will know you have opened the wards!"
"Nah, it's only a minor breach. It happens every day, I bet! Kneazles can do it when they roam around… look at here!"
Anne followed her to the Lake's shore, where the castle's ground rock disappeared underwater, and her friend held a piece of toast above the waves. It only took a minute before a long tentacle arm reached out and grabbed it, and soon the water retreated, showing how the length of the rock ran long toward the lake's floor. Anne couldn't see the opening, she only sensed it through magic. It felt like a bulge or a focused knot of intent against the natural formations. It also felt dark and foreboding.
"What the hell is that?!" – she whispered, now feeling truly unnerved.
"I heard there was a room behind it," – Sophie explained. "A chamber of some kind or a vault… I'm not sure. I want them to help us get there."
Anne stared at Sophie. She knew her friend was stringing on the Beauxbatons for a reason, but she had never imagined it was that dark!
"Sophie, I don't think that chamber wants to get opened," – she tried to warn her, but before she could reply, the sounds of the lake splashing around them changed, and the water began to return to its normal level, making them run if they didn't want to swim. They heard the Beauxbatons boys' voices as soon as they returned to the shore.
"Watch it, Romain, you're almost there!"
"Where are you, witches?"
"By gods, this was fun!"
Sophie leaned over the water and touched for the boats the boys' magic charmed invisible, and helped them pull ashore. Jacques was out of his hiding the moment sand screeched under his vessel, and by the time Anne managed to help Romain and Chad out of their boats, his hands were all over Sophie, trying to force the young witch into a kiss to live out his enthusiasm. Anne sensed her friend's reluctance and was about to step in when Chad's arms encircled her waist and pulled her back.
"Slow down, dearest, I deserve a warmer welcome," – he breathed into her hair and palmed her tits from behind as if it was an accident. Romain laughed at the girls' shrieks with a hint of jealousy and some anticipation for further adventure.
"Get your paws off me, you moron!" – Anne tried to thrust Chad away, and she attempted to reach her wand in her pocket. When the boy only snickered, she noticed that Sophie chose a different method around their exuberance and heartily kissed Jacques, who obediently let her go after getting what he wanted.
"You're the shy one, are you?" – Chad asked her, still too close to her ears.
"Hey, I didn't call you for that," – Sophie stepped away from Jacques. "There's something I want you to see."
"Is it as interesting as the dragons?" – Jacques asked her. "Because we almost decided to let you down when we heard it."
"Heard what?" – Sophie turned back to him, halting by the water. Anne saw the piece of toast in her hand and sensed her annoyance.
"The dragons are packed up tonight and will be returned to the continent before the morning," – Romain explained.
"It's not every day you can see four dragons shipped," Chad said. "I wish they would fly them!"
"We came for you, sweethearts," – Jacques's smile was easy to hear in his tone. "I managed to convince them that you also would want to see it! Come, get into the boats, quick! We might get there in time through the Lake!"
Sophie loathed the idea, and Anne was relieved she didn't urge her to get close to those beasts. "Jacques, I wanted to show you something!"
"You'll show it next time," – the boy tried to placate her, reaching for her waist, but she stepped away.
"What next time?! It's right here, you moron! Come and see! You've seen the dragons already at the Tournament!"
"I would, but see, Romain wants his dragons," – Jacques still tried to play nice, although Anne could sense he didn't like her friend making a fuss. "I already promised. Wouldn't your thing be here tomorrow or next week?"
"It's about the timing," – Sophie tried to reason, but Romain, who stood the closest to the opening towards the castle, and Anne, who sensed an odd spur in magic carrying anxiety and frustration, jerked their heads at the same time.
"I think someone's coming!" – Romain was the quicker to announce.
"Sophie, they noticed!" – Anne warned her friend with all her fright. If they didn't get expelled tonight, Snape would still skin them. Especially her. After all the wishy-washiness, she knew he would take something like this as a betrayal. It would be personal, and she shied away from imagining what that would cause!
Sophie finally caught on. "All right, get back into the boats then!" The boys followed her words, but Jacques gave a last go to convince her:
"You could come too, you know!"
"And who would push you in then?" – Anne stepped in, kicking Chad's craft away from the shore. Jacques finally leaned his head under the invisible boards, and he disappeared from sight while Sophie pushed his boat in, and Anne sent Romain's boat afloat with a swish of her wand.
"There is someone in the cave. Hagrid, perhaps it's better if I go through first," – they heard McGonagall's voice. The deputy must have been in charge of this part of the wards, and Anne froze in her panic.
"Come on!" – Sophie pulled her arm and made her run toward the darkest well in the cave's corner. She didn't dare look back when it swallowed them.
They ran through a narrow path that opened to a typical dungeon corridor. Finally, it wasn't sand but the stone floor under their shoes, but Sophie's silencing charm yet held, and their steps didn't echo on the plain, damp walls.
Uncounted crooked corridors and about four flights of stairs later, Anne was panting with a hand squeezed against her burning side and watched her friend collapsing against the wall in a shape that didn't look better than how she felt.
"You're my best friend, Sophie, but I could easily hate you," – she forced the words out, wishing to hurt.
"So what holds you back?" Sophie shot back between gasps.
"I can't decide," Anne tried. "I can't decide which is the real deal. You, as I knew you, or this idiot, taking risks and stringing on those fools!"
Sophie wheezed a bitter laugh and pushed herself from the stone wall.
"What if both?" – she challenged. "This idiot has had an idea since her second year, and you knew my uncle! You even liked coming over! You bought the amulet and were happy to be around! Do you think your legacy is any better than mine? Not all are so lucky as to get disowned, you know? I will do what I must, with or without your help!"
"You're doing this for your uncle? I thought that was just a part of it!" – Anne cried as loudly as she dared and tried to stand taller. "Your uncle wouldn't want you to get expelled for him! And what about your mum? She never wanted you to work in the shop in the first place!"
"Leave my mother out of this!"
"Why? Because she would hate to see you expelled? Because she always worried your uncle would get you into trouble?"
"Because she's a hypocrite living off Uncle Luis's money like the rest of them!" – Sophie shouted in anguish, and Anne finally understood the strange mix of feelings that lingered about her. Sophie was heartbroken and frightened out of her mind, but she probably saw no other way out of whatever ailed her than to take risks, which would usually have been her last choice. She thought of her Aunt Duvessa and knew she could relate.
"Sorry," – Anne said simply and now softer. "I had to know… you should tell it all, so I would know."
Sophie nodded, but she could sense she was far from being placated.
"I told you I will."
Anne watched her friend retreat to the Common Room, her head held high and a smile plastered on her face as if she had no qualms in the world. That was everything Slytherin tried to conquer, and no one understood it in the other three Houses. There was always a reason, and there was always a price. Choose your side wisely, and never betray your allies! Slytherin wouldn't fight its own because the whole system would fail if they did so. Snape knew that and demanded they hold up the fragile balance. But he wasn't omnipotent and couldn't stop kinship from getting in the way of education. If he worked against the old families, most would call the kids home to teach them privately, and there wouldn't be a chance to build a network to hold them up later in life.
She didn't care what the hour was, she had no taste for the dorm or the Common Room. Disappointment and frustration took the better of her, and aside from her friends' problems, she also had her own. Not even to mention all the disturbing facts she was privy to about their Head of House, which all emerged with thoughts about Slytherin and swirled inside her, condemning her father and Snape's spy-thing and all the odd hogwash about the creeps holding to power down in Town. There was no escape from their clutches.
She felt homesick for a better time when everything seemed hopeful and at least a tiny bit normal. She turned into the snake passage to climb to the sixth floor, hazily wishing to feel like Gavin was still around. They could laugh it off, watching the snow fall before the balcony he showed her. That finally sounded like a plan.
Anne rounded the hunchback witch's sculpture and stole to the end of the main corridor by the wall, careful not to make a sound. She found the beginning of the wooden stairs carved into the wall and climbed up the spiral staircase, hoping the creaking wouldn't alert anyone.
It was a vain hope, for when she stepped to the balcony, she promptly faced a wand.
"Dammit, girl!"
Anne found it peculiar how Snape's wand only trembled when he held it back. He turned half-away and mumbled something about an "almost", which Anne preferred never to understand perfectly. Whatever that almost had been, she was simply glad she managed to avoid it, and judging by his razor-thin lips and unusual paleness, she most likely wasn't alone.
"I don't know who you expected, sir. I keep coming here when I feel lonely," – she tried to explain herself, anticipating a harsh question she was sure would have followed as soon as he gathered himself. She wished for no harsh words and hoped, against her better sense, that Snape might leave her this spot if she stated her claim clearly enough. There was no way to have a cigarette with him lingering around.
Anne's glance ran over the rail that hung above the grounds, and her lips turned down when she spotted the bottle of beer he had placed on it. It didn't look like he planned to leave early or expected company at all. His eyes followed her glance, and he reached for his beer.
"Do you perhaps object?" – he challenged, his voice dripping ridicule as he saw her grimace. "Rosier, it would be past time you realised whatever makes you roam around after curfew, this castle is not your particular playground. And especially, this has been my spot for longer than you can possibly claim existence."
Anne tried really hard not to shove into his face that he was standing on what she called Gavin's balcony. Alas, the occurrence in Mind Magic that matched shared interests must have decided that her silent quarrel counted as one.
"This is the Southern Gazebo, and your brother had trouble enough when he tried to sneak up here," – Snape replied to her unsaid claim, then his eyes caught Anne's hand in her pocket. "What do you have in there?"
She reluctantly pulled out the pack of cigarettes.
"I only wished for a few moments to unwind," –she mumbled. "This day–"
Whatever he saw on her face or sensed in her voice halted the storm she had been sure to come. His ready stance for a fight collapsed with a sigh, and he shook his head. It was a miracle on its own, and Anne watched, somewhat mesmerised, as he took a swig from the bottle.
"I thought you had a day off so you could assist Poppy," – he hit a calmer tone.
"I did," – Anne admitted. Surprise wasn't a word beginning to describe what she felt, even if his tone was similar to what she got used to on their last detentions. He had actually taken her as a wiz-nurse. Otherwise, she would have already found herself gliding back towards the dungeons on her arse with a point loss epochs would remember. The least she could offer was an explanation and as much sincerity as her circumstances allowed.
"I only popped down to London to look at my aunt. She's taken ill…" she shrugged as if it didn't bother her to the point of wishing to skip Hogwarts altogether. "There wasn't much joy in returning… you might hear from the Deputy about a minor breach to the wards… I– well, I'm not going to defend idiocy… I just hope you give me some time before you begin to investigate… sir."
"Have you perhaps lost your way around the portal?" He asked sceptically.
"The portal? …Oh, no…it was…" Anne couldn't stand the awkwardness any more, holding the package lamely and spilling the beans. "Sorry, may I?"
"There are few ways you could act more stupid…" – he noted, but Anne could sense some sparks of his wishes as his glance lingered at her fingers working the box open.
"Yes," – she agreed. "Would you-?"
With two raised eyebrows and apparently more entertained than he expected, Snape accepted a cigarette and offered her a tiny flame from the tip of his wand before he lit up. Strangely, the same fume that made her cough just weeks before now felt like salvation. Anne closed her eyes and enjoyed the spot of reprieve.
She would have sworn she could hear his smirk. "What have you done, girl?"
Anne exhaled the smoke and opened her eyes. "I broke out of the castle to meet up with some of the visitors in the cavern port under the castle and attempted to discover some of the vaults that had been left untouched in the eighties," – she told him with one breath and entirely lacking any hint of enthusiasm.
Snape's head tilted to the side, and his mouth slightly hung open. It took only a few seconds for him to conquer his surprise, but those seconds were preciously unique. She knew in advance she would push him to his limits. Still, his voice sounded unexpectedly calm.
"Alone."
Anne shook her head, somewhat stunned he was yet acting so coolly.
"How did Borgin manage to drag you into her plans?"
It was her time to drop her jaw, and his inquisitive look didn't help. The smirk was long gone.
"She's the only friend around my age with magic," – Anne told him the truth. "If I refused to join her, she would have been alone."
He rolled his eyes and turned to rails, only minding his fag for a while. Eventually, he tapped off the ash, and his smirk returned. "The sergeant will have a fit," – he informed her like that was a great joke and the most natural thing that Argus would be made aware of.
"Aren't you… angry?"
He huffed. "That's not the right word, girl… It irks me. But I wish that were my greatest problem, especially after you came forward with the whole unholy mess." He turned and looked her over, speculating and showing some of his surprise. Anne was grateful that his defences let her peek and use her senses this time. She felt his hesitant trust and that he was impressed and interested. She also caught deep-settled fears he was combating, but the walls around his mind weren't low enough to explore them.
"Is this why you singled Sophie out in September?" – She asked impulsively. "How did you know?"
His mind promptly replied I tried to understand you, while his lips slowly formed a different answer: "She's without basic defences. Teenage minds all but scream to be read and understood."
The double take gave Anne a pause, but she tried to catch up: "Was her mind screaming about my summer visit at Knockturn?"
The little surprise he let her sense fluently vanished as he took a swig. "She might have thought me interested in her childish affairs. Imagine my surprise when I found a complete plot to dead-end her career as a student before the NEWTs!"
Anne's eyes fell, knowing he'd already done Sophie a favour. Trying to befriend her, he'd offered her a chance to tell him what she was probably forced to do.
"She should have trusted you," – she silently said. And as an afterthought, she added, sir, although he didn't seem to care.
"Like you did?"
The question was too quick and too forward. All she could do was try to hide her embarrassed smile.
"There's only one thing I can't understand, Rosier." When she kept her silence, he studied the grounds while asking: "What do you want with those morons?"
Discomfort. When he mentioned the morons, she definitely sensed discomfort. Anne didn't hide her surprise.
"The visitors?" She shrugged. "They imagine themselves adventurers, and they envy the Champions. Sophie believes they could help her."
His face became cold, and he began to enlist, "Whitby, from Hufflepuff, is lying at the Infirmary, living down the consequences of an Inflatus on his left ear. Had the imbecile who shot it at him aimed a little better, you could have tended to him at St. Mungo's. He's a sixth-year who committed the great sin of being around when the insidious trio was plotting and, for his misfortune, had learned some French."
Anne stared at him. "Poppy never mentioned."
"Hasn't she?" – he asked back in an openly provocative tone. "Has she told you about a Ravenclaw named Riggby, a fourth year, who once ran into them and received a curse that made him see blood all over the castle and his own hands and face? It's called Imparted Blame, and it's not fashionable at Hogwarts. How deeply twisted one needs to be to impart a vision like that?"
Understanding that he called out her ability to see through emotions and mindsets, Anne thought she had to defend herself.
"I never looked too deeply, although they seemed right pranksters. Mostly, they just wish to recompense themselves for what they believe was a disservice to their selfish wants."
He looked furious for the first time since she entered. "What the hell does a witch see in such gormless cowards? Always three against one, always running to their Headmistress when being caught? Those three half-wits are not mere pranksters, Rosier, you should have known better! Tell me, what the bloody hell do witches see in bullies? What is the allure?"
He stunned her. The information he shared was disturbing enough, but it was more confusing why Poppy would refer such a boy to her. She had no time to contemplate any of it because Snape's initial fury turned swiftly into honest curiosity, which she hardly knew how to satisfy. Even his pale complexion lit up with tiny spots of red on the cheeks, proving that he honestly wished for an answer and a sincere one of that, but she was still struggling with the shock and had never contemplated the visitors this deeply in the first place.
When she needed more time for introspection than what his obvious impatience would have allowed, he turned away as if he regretted speaking up. That didn't matter. Years of meditation and experience with painful truths had their perks, and Anne softly told him the awful answer.
"They are safe."
He turned as if he stepped on a wheel. "What?!"
"They are horrible and would never truly care, which is safe in a sense because it bears no dispute. They won't get hurt or surprise me because they don't give a damn, and I have no expectations. They express their wishes upfront, and it's all so empty as fulfilling them would be. There's nothing to hurt my feelings because there are no emotions, nor is there any chance ever to be."
He only stood before her, visibly struggling to take in everything she said. The coloured spots returned to his cheeks, and Anne thought it was somehow more important for him than just to understand her or the Beauxbatons. He soon proved her right:
"What if I told you there's no guarantee a witch wouldn't come to expect more of someone like them?"
She couldn't help smiling. "I would think that witch had never experienced what I did. I know what it feels to accept love from an honest boy," – she blushed when she recalled Paul, embarrassed about the turn of the evening. "I also know how it feels to distinguish that from something less. This is neither. And I know the difference, so they have no power over me. Not over the core."
"So it's not the witch's fault if she fell under their influence? Is it only innocence, or at least the lack of experience?" – he asked, seeming almost hopeful. Anne wasn't sure why she didn't like it.
"Maybe," – she allowed. "Wizarding society is full of hypocrites. A witch should be inexperienced but also capable of looking through the farce – that's nonsense! Of course, it's also possible that some witches just have no more substance than a boy like them. She would be happy with whatever she got as long as it looks good," – she thought about the Carrows, but Snape shook his head and dismissed the whole idea as if that wasn't the case he tried to explore.
He sank into silence, and Anne finally had the reprieve she'd wished for. Lighting up another cigarette, Anne sat on the wooden bench facing the dark branches of the Forbidden Forest and leaned back to enjoy the silence under the night sky. To think someone was packing up four dragons underneath..! She shuddered and wished she could forget how dragon roar sounded! That, and Poppy's peculiar advice – she was glad she didn't accept it as wisdom… Oh, Nimue!
"That was not what bothered you," – a low voice noted a few feet away, hearing her sigh. She never noticed when Snape turned to examine her.
"I didn't like the dragons," – she summed up a part of it to avoid the rest.
It didn't satisfy him. The question prevailed in his eyes, and she sensed he was waiting. Giving up, Anne tried to pour into words how the dragons felt in magic and the struggle to fight off their influence and slipped into explaining how it made helping Diggory more difficult.
"It wasn't the first time I used Mind Magic on a patient, but usually, I only attempt to reveal the core of the problem. This time, it was different because it was obvious medically. But seeing how uncertain he is in this new role, and understanding the sensitive relationship between the Champions…" – she looked up only to see she still held all his attention. "He was so grateful to Potter! I regretted wearing that silly badge. That kid acted decently, and it wasn't lost on Diggory."
She saw she had given Snape a pause. His jaw worked as if his teeth were clenched together, and his eyes told her that he was having a hard time matching her words to whatever he had thought.
"You might wish to check Potter for ulterior motives before you join his fan group," – Snape warned her but didn't dispute what she saw.
When Anne nodded, he seemed to calm down. Anne noticed that even if he disagreed, his attention never wavered, not even when she fell silent. His eyes never left her face, and they slowly warmed again when she didn't quarrel.
"Dragons are magic, girl. A part of nature like you are. You don't know how you would perceive your magic if you experienced it as you see the dragons. You wouldn't find it fragile but intense, sometimes overwhelming, like an amplified pulse or the wash of juices in a healthy tree. Would the mere presence of another creature of magic distract you if you sensed your own?"
Comfort was about the last thing people expected from Snape. He rarely bestirred himself to offer it, and maybe for a reason if his idea of comforting sounded like a song…
"I don't roar, though," – Anne smiled at him with a hint of cheek to cowardly dull his beautiful words, but it only put an uncommon glint in his eyes that vanished before she could decipher its meaning.
"Maybe you just need to have a reason," – he said with a smirk.
When she didn't promptly reply, he turned away and finished his beer.
"Don't stay long," – he said as a goodnight and left her alone, which might have been the most extraordinary proof of his altering thoughts about her age and place in the world… That, and those inconceivable words.
Anne stared after him, wondering whether that was how he perceived her magic. If it was, she wished she could feel the same! She knew she could never forget the sea in all its majestic colours that flooded within him! Matching his moods to the tide were Pince's most observant words of the month! It also made sense in a way. For if she were a tree, she drank of that endless water, felt nourished and tended to by being close to it…
Hogwash! She shook herself and tried to laugh it off. He couldn't… Nimue! If she answered what now came to mind, he would have seen her as a moron, not a magical tree! However, something told her that wasn't the only danger she avoided when she failed to reply, and perhaps his quick retreat was the most sensible action he could possibly take. It didn't matter. What mattered was that he cared. He valued her opinion, and even giving comfort wasn't beyond him. Which was nice and gave back a sense of secure warmth she sorely lacked since Rachel had taken ill. Just a bloody cold – she mumbled picking herself up. Sophie was already asleep when she returned to the dorm, and there was no sign the Carrows were privy to their shenanigan.
The very next day was Thursday, bringing Charms and Potions, and an afternoon shift at the St. Mungo's which made it impossible to avoid her Hogwarts schedule. Flitwick was the same as ever, but he wasn't the one teacher she had second thoughts about seeing. When the door closed with a bang behind Snape, he marched to the front with his usual long strides, the parchments with their last homework sailed to each benches before him, and he already announced the day's potion, and swished a wand towards the blackboard.
No one noticed in the barely organized scampering to the ingredient cabinets how he landed a book and an extra parchment on the first workbench which only Anne used. She recognised her annotated recipe and slid it into her bookbag, however the book – Advanced Potion Making by Libatius Borage – was so threadbare, she only cautiously dared to open it.
This book is the property of the Half-blood Prince* - she read on the first page in familiar, maybe, compared to what she knew, outlandishly flamboyant handwriting… still, she knew these letters! Anne tried not to chuckle, and didn't dare looking up.
The next page began with Borage's well-known lines, "Indeed, from antiquity until well into the Modern Ages, a physics devoid of metaphysical insight would have been as unsatisfying as a metaphysical devoid of physical manifestation"** and a handwritten comment, Boldly beginning with the blatantly obvious… betrayed the book's owner's dissatisfaction with the opus before the author had space to elaborate.
Anne bit into her lip so she wouldn't giggle like a green firstie in the Great Hall, and she quickly closed the book to reduce the temptation. She still had to put a fist in her mouth, and bite it hard to get over the hysterical need for a laughing fit before she walked to the ingredient cabinet, finally with a straight face. Snape's extremely innocently raised questioning eyebrow didn't help one bit, but she suspected that wasn't his intention.
The Hiccupping Solution, the only potion included in the fifth year curriculum – in a simplified form – out of the NEWT level brews, suggested Bulbadox juice in the blackboard –version, and Sneezewort in the fourth-year book. Anne looked up the recipe in Borage's book, thinking Snape's prank must have had a reason, and found it suggesting Sopophorous beans in the comments while the text originally listed Bulbadox juice. It hardly made sense, but after a quick look at Snape, Anne decided to give his book a chance.
She was halfway into fixing the potion, when it occurred to her, that if Sopophorous beans' juice worked instead of the Bulbadox' then she wouldn't need to solve the acidity of her crushed lucanus stags, and could simply…
Momentarily forgetting about the brew in her cauldron, Anne pulled out a parchment and scribbled up the Arithmancy first for the Hiccupping Solution, then enthusiasm took the better of her, and she also started on her lung potion when the half-ready brew boiled over by her shoulder, and shot up from the cauldron in spectacular yellow flames. Her startled yelp was cut half by the Lid Charm that suddenly covered her cauldron and the overflown mess, and a smirking Professor appeared by her workbench, smug as a cherry pie.
"This appears to be a P for today, Rosier. Tsk," – he sighed with mocking glee – "The best fall the hardest, do they not?"
Anne buried her face into her palms, partially to hide her relieved grin for he spared her an hour at the Infirmary, getting stitched back together, and partially to avoid asking him to kindly fuck off after entrapping her like that. However, she found his joke genuinely funny, and the Sopophoros beans were a strike of a genius, which he must have known already, so eventually she only waited until all attention returned to the other cauldrons, and shot Snape a well-deserved grin for his troubles. She had surprised him with her recipe at the end of the last class, and he had the guts to repay for it with interest.
The St Mungo's shift couldn't began on a better note, and finally she had something to look forward to even afterwards: She couldn't wait to return to Hogwarts and read her way through his probably biting remarks and thoughts attached to her potion recipe. The P had no significance at all.
A/N: *and** are citations from Potter Wiki, and to my best knowledge were J.K. Rowling's original words.