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TN_Chapter 40.
December 1994
(19)
She simply needed that dress robe from Gladrags.
Funnily enough, reaching a shop in the nearest village to Hogwarts during the school year without a proper Hogsmeade weekend going on was more difficult than getting lost for days in London or popping to Whitby in North Yorkshire to watch the sea reaching the shores for an hour of recreation. (She should know!) Anne didn't dare go in her Muggle clothes, but a school robe wouldn't do either. She finally opted for a full skirt and the green greatcoat she'd gotten from Poppy, changed the colour to a non-assuming dark grey, buttoned it up to her chin and hid her face in an enormous scarf and a hat.
She hoped she was forgettable and avoided Pippin's, only relaxing a little when she thought she saw two boys in Hogwarts robes just behind Honeydukes. They turned the corner so swiftly, she wasn't sure if she saw two identical red manes peeping out from under the beanies. The vision reminded her of Sophie's Gryffindor year mates, and if they could take a turn down in the village by some inexplicable means, she decided that so could she.
Anne slowed her steps and took a deep breath. It wouldn't do to call attention by looking as anxious as she felt. Thankfully, when the bells chimed in the shop's door and the familiar boy turned behind the counter, he didn't seem to give two hoots about her identity but offered several accessories and underwear to go with her chosen dress robe, eventually making her leave a month-worth of her St Mungo salary for garters, silk stockings, a new set of stays that went well with the undergarment and a wand holder that were all imperative to purchase if she wished to look fit for a ball. Why she couldn't dance a reel with each sixth-year boy without buying four new knickers and a silver and purple striped pair of socks, though, she would never know…
Emboldened by her success, Anne also entered Honeydukes and bought some fizzing sweets, chocolate cauldrons, and a few bars of their unique caramel and milk chocolates for her brothers and the Smiths for Christmas. She had already found an anthology for Madame Pince in London and a witch's hat for Poppy with a tiny veil at the tip. At this rate, she wouldn't have to brave Diagon Alley with the worst tumult that flowed there before every greater occasion.
"Sorry, Miss!"
"Sorry!"
Two boys about double her height and visibly shivering in their Hogwarts robes hurried away after bumping into her, clinging in their wake with the sound of butterbeer bottles shaking together, but by the time she turned with all those satchels and parcels, they were nowhere around. Anne shook her head and walked to the far edge of Hogsmeade, hazily recalling that Filch mentioned multiple hidden ways out of the castle but determinedly didn't try to find out which way those bad eggs could have used. She had her problems and knew enough to stick to them, not multiply them.
She hid the goods in the tunnel and turned on her heel to avoid missing her shift. Only an additional two and a half hours turn, and she had what she feared of behind her. Of course, there was the lamenting on how the clothes would magically travel from the tunnel to her dorm, but she postponed that in favour of a good sweeping up at the A-Room, smiled at Bert, and hurried on to Spleen's realm, where she recently kept finding herself assigned for. She wondered if she was supposed to talk Brunswick out of her new habit one of these days. As far as she knew, Mediwizard Spleen hadn't liked her since the hag incident, but even the thought of working for Sheambaum made her heart leap with joy.
Midway into her work hours, she decided worrying wasn't worth it. Everything was better than being at Hogwarts, and even if she never liked Apprentice Tinker, wiz-nurse Agatha Prix was also at the Bugs Ward and patient enough to teach her. Hogwarts had become a wasp's nest anyway, especially since the announcement of the Yule Ball. As silly as she felt about Sophie making arrangements with the Carrow girls in her absence, the further the insanity mounted around dates and plans, the more grateful she became.
The three Beauxbatons boys Anne got to know the best among the visitors, never got through the short argument in the cave port under the castle. Anne hadn't considered how her straight refusal of Chad's advances estranged the boy, but returning on good terms with Sophie, she finally heard the rest of the tale.
"I tried to talk to them, but Jacques insisted we meet alone," – Sophie had told her in an empty classroom two days ago when they ditched Preps. "He… he had ideas…" – she shrugged, and Anne could sense in the magic around her how uncomfortable the memory made her. "I know you told me, but… I thought I could do it. I thought I wouldn't mind…" – she looked up at Anne, and she knew Sophie was checking whether she repulsed her. She didn't. All she felt was pity and a strange nag in her memories, reminding her of that first kiss with Chris Jones.
"You've never been kissed before, have you?" – she asked Sophie, and when she shook her head, Anne nodded and took her hand. "It wasn't like I had imagined it either. You're wiser about it."
"How can you say that?"
Sophie stared at her as if she had said something outrageous or shameful. Anne couldn't understand at first. The moment felt so important that her focus on her friend's emotions dismissed the sense of that familiar presence behind the door. Then it all turned into politics instead of romance, and she hated the whole mess, grateful for having had the good sense to only try with Muggles.
"I should have pulled through," – Sophie accused herself. "It wasn't that horrible! I should have tried harder so we would have their alliance and I could make them help! But now, the best thing to do is to hand them all over to Flora because she doesn't want anything but a moment's glory and a good time, and I'm stuck with you and no one else to finish the job for Uncle Luis!"
It was Anne's turn to stare. "Can you hear what you're saying?" Anne suddenly didn't feel much difference between talking to Kelly and abusing her over her rare half-witted notions about clothing and boy bands that would only get on her brother's nerves, and knocking some sense into her best friend at Hogwarts. "You don't hand three boys over to anyone! They are people with free will. It's bad enough you were trying to use them! But even more importantly: Kissing someone shouldn't be not-overly-horrible or endurable. That's not what it is for, and I don't give a frick what Hestia's sick romances are trying to imply about forced marriages among purebloods and high-standing families! Your uncle might have asked you to do something you don't really want to do, but I bet he still wants a shop assistant and not a courtesan!"
"Annie! I'm not –!"
"I know that," – Anne quickly reassured her. "But if you want me to help you, I want you to stand up and swear right now that if you once again kiss a boy, that will be because you cannot not-kiss him. Because the whole deal is about something good and not something resentful you should endure or undertake!"
Sophie looked at her for a long time, and only her changing emotion helped Anne guess her myriad thoughts.
"Was it like that for you?" – Sophie eventually asked. "When you kissed someone first… did you do that because you couldn't not-kiss?"
Strangely, it was. Although that wasn't about a boy, but another girl's kindness and curiosity. Kissing Amy back had been involuntary, and she never regretted it. Sadly, Anne didn't expect Sophie to understand that part.
"No," – she eventually answered, thinking of Chris. "I thought I knew what I wanted, but really, I had no idea… it was silliness and wishing for a bunch of things that wasn't about the kiss or the boy, only in my mind… but it was like that for the second time."
"The second…? Merlin! How many boys have you been kissing?!"
Shoot. Anne realised belatedly that oversharing and deep honesty were neither traits for Slytherin's House.
"I – "
"Why, isn't it Miss Borgin and Rosier again!" – the door opened, letting through the all-too-well-known void in the texture of emotions before the dark robe billowed in. "Partaking in our humble duties before the ball must feel beneath the witches of your standards. Alas, if you can't find the time to join the Preparation Classes, you might have to find it to satisfy your detentions!"
Snape addressed his words mainly to Sophie, barely looking anywhere else but at her, just like Anne couldn't recall receiving a direct word from him since before the "dance class" in the ballroom a week prior. She tried to play along and avoided the gazebo, but now the idea was too alluring:
"Detention for the 25th? Sir? In the evening?" Anne realised her voice sounded too eager even before Professor Snape slowly turned towards her. His glance flared with something… probably annoyance.
"Don't tempt me!" – he warned her, although it must have been clear how much she meant what she said. He returned to Sophie with all the venom the lower years feared so thoroughly. "That will be five points, Borgin, and a warning. Don't let me find you anywhere outside of your scheduled duties again!"
Anne sensed his double meaning, but Sophie either did not or she only wished for a quick escape.
"Yes, sir, sorry."
Their House Head nodded and almost seemed ready to leave when he added as an afterthought: "If you're so reluctant to enjoy a party, Rosier, you should think more about songs and put your mind to their meaning."
Taken by surprise, Anne could only blink at him. "Songs, sir?"
"Haven't you heard of the ballad of the blithesome witch, who brewed lewd potions, but she was no snitch? She dispersed them freely, so the night felt less eerie, and the dance she went to ended with no glitch."
Anne's jaw dropped, and it took a second, but then she caught the meaning. "Oh!"
"Oh, indeed, girl," – Snape's features didn't change a modicum from his earlier annoyance, only his eyes showed challenge instead of impatience. "Have you heard about this song before?"
"Maybe, but that was long ago, sir. Now, I don't expect I'll forget it," – Anne promised and promptly gazed down at her shoes so she wouldn't betray her amusement over his need to bite into his cheek to stop that tiny smirk from forming.
"Make sure that you don't," – Professor Snape warned and presented a flawless billow out of the classroom, which Sophie rewarded with a short whistle as soon as he was far enough not to overhear it.
"What the hell was that about?" – she asked Anne.
Of course, explaining it away was less fun than using the Hogwarts Brewing Room without supervision or making a hundred phials of contraceptive potions, only a part of which landed in Poppy's cabinet, and secretly handing the rest instead directly to the Carrows, Florance Hornblow, Thymea Elderton, even Sophie, and whoever heard about the source among the sixth and seventh years Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws… not that all of them wanted to misbehave. Still, it was better to be safe than sorry, and Anne wasn't about to forget Gilderoy Lockhart testing the Infirmary's capacity on a Valentine's Day, not even if that was a long time ago.
She still grinned thinking of it all while washing the bedpans for Spleen, and she even imagined a tune for the words, with which – after some contemplation – she was sure Snape must have come up on the spot. It was amusing enough to escape lamenting what he might have overheard. She knew he must have suspected she wasn't a virgin since he read through her notebook and found the recipe for the enhanced contraceptive potion next to some entries about Dan White. There surely was a reason why he kept addressing the whole issue as lewdness. However, that thought gave no joy, so Anne clung to the tattered remains of the good times before the ball's announcement.
A day later, after her shift on the 24th, she visited the Smiths and left her presents under their Christmas tree. She turned back time to early afternoon and stole the shrunken parcels that hid her ball robe and whatever accessories down to the dorm. It was only a day before the Yule Ball, and probably asking Brunswick for leave would have been a better than plan than getting ready with the girls after her morning at St Mungo's and watching the Smiths celebrating with her brothers. She would be knackered by the time of the ball, even if she slept five hours in her tower before it. She couldn't help it. The prospect of a formal dance with the sixth-years left her cold, so she chose what she preferred.
On Yule's morning, she made sure Argus found her new batch of salve, a pair of cufflinks to replace his battered old ones, and a card. She gladly accepted his tea and shortbreads with the shawl he found for her that year. It was silver-grey with pink embroidery and would have gone beautifully with her coat if she had changed just the colour to the usual graphite she preferred. Being called posh after that when she bumped into Frank at St Mungo's backdoor felt like a compliment.
Sheambaum demanded her presence at the Poison Ward, and after her shift, he took her down to the Hospital's bowels and introduced her to the storage system underneath the common areas. The stockrooms were enormous, and two apprentices were already busy sorting out the outdated ingredients before taking ledgers. Scott was nowhere in sight, and Lovehex and Bert liked working with her. Despite the enormous workload, both felt very much Christmassy, and Anne stayed long enough to be late for Aida's lunch even after turning back time.
The food was delicious, and exchanging Muggle clothes and books with Kelly, Aida, George, and Rachel, as well as magical trinkets with her brothers, felt sweet and warm. But the best part was bathing in Caleb's rare moments of peace and joy before she reluctantly excused herself, Apparated to Knockturn into the small flat above Everard's Venoms, turned back time with five hours, and fell on the sofa deeply asleep.
When she returned to Hogwarts, it was again past three in the afternoon, she had twenty-eight hours behind her back since seven in the morning, and she had no good explanation for why she had missed the light lunch or where she'd been since noon. Duh. Anne expected Snape to shoot her a disapproving look, but he didn't as much as glanced at her direction when they crossed paths in the Entrance Hall or the Common Room. Did she misunderstand something when she decided to avoid the gazebo lately? It was healthier, for sure. She had no intention of becoming a smoker and still had half of that pack of cigarettes intact, which was reassuring, but she missed those free discussions immensely.
Then Higgs entered the Common Room and notified their House Head how Headmaster Karkaroff had entered the dungeons and was seen waiting by his office door, and Anne was only grateful she hadn't put herself at the receiving end of his scowl.
Bloody moron'd better not see the box! – Snape's voice echoed in her head as if he was talking to her, although he didn't even glance up, only called for the Malfoy boy to join him.
Flora nudged Anne to finally retreat with the rest of them to the dorm and get ready together for the ball. She was too astonished to mind her. What box? And why was this a common interest?
Snape's glance shot to her, but all it carried was a flash of fright, which the boy obviously missed when he stepped closer.
"But there is –" Malfoy began, and Anne sensed his reluctance, then she heard his godfather grumble:
"He has to wait, Draco. Your mother asked me to hand you a parcel."
"Hey, are you coming at last?" – Flora urged Anne, and she finally followed the girls among Draco Malfoy's glee splashing in magic as he asked after a lunch his family must have held.
Anne wondered what was on Snape's mind joining the Malfoys for a Christmas meal, but guessing was hopeless and eavesdropping unseemly. She would drive herself into madness if she let herself wonder about such things and whatever boxes because this occurrence must have been just that: a special brand of madness she'd better avoided. Snape was right. Half-information and fractions of emotions would only lead them astray.
She let Flora's enthusiasm knock her worries away and focused on the Carrows' alterations to the dorm. This time, they did marvellously for the occasion: the wall between the dorm and the adjacent lav was transfigured into one water-smooth mirror. Sophie already admired it with Hestia when they entered.
"Elderton mentioned a charm for it," – Flora bragged. "But McGee forbade the elves to assist us, so we must do each other's hair." She looked at the dress robe Sophie hung above her bed on the pelmet. "Is that what you're wearing?"
The robe flowed from the hanger in a modest A-line, the caramel-coloured chiffon gave dimension to the golden-sand fabric underneath, and the golden moon-shaped flitters on the chiffon elevated the effect to near perfection. The only problem was the enormous bow right under the decollete, which would probably shift all attention from Sophie's nicely carved waist to her barely existent features above them. Anne initially wanted to protest Flora's venomous question, but upon closer look, she had to concede her point.
"Better than frills," – Sophie shrugged, but her insecurity pulsed around the room. The cut was well-thought-out, though. Hestia promptly jumped to defend her baby-blue dress robe, and a short squabble followed about which concept was more childish until Hes let her sister cut some of the frills – because "I don't trust you two within five yards from my dress!" – and Sophie conceded that the bow looked ridiculous.
When the Carrows monopolised the showers after that, and Sophie collapsed on her bed, Anne tried to keep the box and whatever indications out of her mind. Even through closed doors, the air filled with the scent of vanilla and cherry blossom. Determined to act as the witch she was supposed to be here, Anne unpacked her new dress robe, but Sophie's silent despair made it hard to focus on anything else.
"I'm sure we could alter it if you want," – she told Sophie, giving up pretence.
"There's no fabric under it. Only the bow's wings cover that part, see? It would be right at the front. You can't hide a cut there!"
Anne disagreed. "It's only what, five centimetres? You enlarged your school robe longer than that!"
"But not of chiffon!" – Sophie whined, eager to complain now that the Carrows were not present.
Anne walked over to her bed and examined the fabric. Such transfiguration wasn't the forte of either of them, and she tried to rely on whatever she had learnt from her gran and Kelly, wishing at least one of them could help. She hesitantly clamped a handful of the chiffon and noticed it wasn't see-through when folded.
"Sophie, what if we didn't mend the satin front after we cut the bow? We should let it lower. Then build a neckline from the outer layers of the chiffon, and –"
"Could you make it a little frothy? You know, just so it would appear as if I had busts?" Sophie leaned closer and pulled the fabric upwards to show what she meant.
Anne did her best to follow. "Do you mean like a broad lining?"
"Yeah, we could even let it flow a little like this, and you know… Oh, c'mon, Annie! I know I have no bust! But it could appear as if I had something there!"
Anne tried to persuade her that she had no reason to wish for a better shape. With her delicate waist and long legs, Sophie was closer to a Muggle model's build than she would ever be, but it turned out that was not what Sophie would have wished for.
"You know, we can't all be as lucky as you are at the fore-front, but just once in my life I could look the way," – she pleaded. "Annie, can you transfigure it? Can you see it before you?"
As much as she regretted it, she knew she couldn't. Anne gave another shot to persuade her. "Sophie, I would give all my money to have a waist like yours! I mean, look at you! You're so lean and tall! You should focus on that instead…"
"You'll have a waist with a wide belt under your tits," – Sophie waved, "and mine would look better with a bust that shows the difference. Please, Annie, I suck at Transfig, and you know that!"
"Yeah, 'cause McGee loves my classwork, doesn't she?" – Anne grumbled. "Although… if we used a cutting charm anyway and instead sew the edges here, see?"
"I could sew up the chiffon the way I wanted!" – Sophie laughed with triumph and reached for her wand.
When the Carrow sisters returned from the washroom, Sophie was already busy at work. Anne only waited a few minutes to be sure Flora and Hestia were more concerned about their hairdo than with Sophie's struggles with her dress before she hit the shower. There, she was blissfully unaware of the cutting remarks and gossip, only minding the hot spray and her favourite soaps, which definitely were more sophisticatedly scented than whatever the Carrows decided to pour over themselves. It was a petty joy but enough to cheer her up. No matter what she wished for, the night was for the Yule Ball, and it would have been silly if she didn't even try to enjoy it.
Flora hurried to meet her date before Anne dried her hair, and Hestia left with her sister, saying she would meet them in the Common Room.
The enormous mirror didn't feel friendly at first, but after the stays sat on the undershirt and Sophie had time to twist her hair into a chignon on her nape, Anne saw someone similar in her reflection she remembered from a year ago when she first wore a dress her gran had dreamt for her, or at Gladrags the other week. She might not have legs Rod Stewart would ever deem hot enough to sing about, but that didn't mean she had to feel ashamed or hide. The shapeless school robes distorted her vision when she thought about herself. It was for the best if she didn't wish for attention, but pretty discouraging before a ball.
Sophie slipped into her fixed dress robe, and Anne's focus shifted to the vision she suddenly became.
"You look like a creature of the night with all these glinting moons and the golden hue of the fabric," – she smiled. "Mythical… I hope you can see that!"
Sophie beamed at her, and it felt like a hug, with all her friendliness and warmth filling the magic between them. "Your turn," she said and helped Anne into her midnight blue robe, fixing the magically broadened belt high to give her the waist she craved.
Was it too shallow to gasp with pleasure? Anne's thoughts ran amok for a second, and she wondered whether even Snape would say it wasn't bad. Would he repeat that she looked different? Of course, she knew he didn't mean it that way… Sophie chuckled at seeing the faraway face she had made, and Anne laughed with her. It was silly. Then Sophie declared her a perfect vision of the sea at night. "This colour makes you look so powerful and feminine, Annie. I haven't seen you like this before."
"Then it will do," – Anne laughed at her, hardly believing a word she said.
Somehow, it seemed that Sophie didn't believe her either, but complimenting each other wasn't only amusing, it also felt so right after the gravity of their former worries. Who cares about family drama and House politics in a well-cut new dress? The more exorbitant the praises became, the harder they giggled, and they stepped into the Common Room in the highest spirits, struggling to maintain a straight face and show some of the dignity the dresses demanded.
Warrington and Lucian still hurried towards them as if they carried salvation. A glance at Per, who kept to the weathered green sofa and listened to Hestia's chatting with his head hung low, explained more about their enthusiasm for new arrivals and new topics than anything they could say. Hestia Carrow stuck out of their group like a sore thumb. The two girls shared a knowing smile and let their dates lead them over to the short table.
"Merlin, Rosier, you should have shown me this rag! The colour makes you look so old!" – Hestia's cry rose above the mandatory exchange of compliments. "Here, let me fix it," – she lifted her wand, but Sophie was the quicker:
"You try to change the colour, and I'll hex your robe to choke you!" – she warned her, and only the boys snickering could alleviate the moment's seriousness.
Anne used her ample experience in deflecting her venom and kept a plausible smile.
"I think it goes well with that hairpiece," – Per offered, and Lucian swiftly moved the conversation to the prospect of dinner and the concert after the dance.
Warrington put a hand on Anne's shoulder, and she turned to see what he wanted. "You know she's just jealous, do you?" – Cas whispered into her ear. "I know this is only casual, but you look like a dream…"
Anne's eyes widened in surprise, but she didn't sense anything untoward about the boy, only wistfulness and embarrassment. "Thank you, Cas," – her smile broadened. "You clean up very nicely yourself! And the blue cravat was the most thoughtful choice."
The boy coughed and suddenly showed serious interest in the pattern on the thinking carpet. "Yes, well… only so you can find me in the throng… you know, when the music part comes…" – he shrugged, and Anne was convinced that just a few years ago, she would have been mesmerised by his shy eagerness, which wasn't that far from what she used to like so much about Paul.
She remembered how Per tried to call her attention to his friend and asked if he missed Quidditch, and Warrington happily chatted about the team's plans for the next year, losing his shy hesitance within minutes. Anne was proud of herself until Lucian raised his eyebrows and congratulated her wordlessly with a nod. It would have been better if no one noticed the hopelessness in Warrington's situation.
Adrian Pucey arrived with the fourth-year Tracey Davies, and the sixth years escorted each other to the Entrance Hall to watch the crowd and wait for the champions. They had fun commenting on the various scents and visions around, having fun at the lower-year girls' expense, whose appearance changed so fundamentally with the countless make-up charms and potions they must have used that even recognising some of them became a challenge.
"Look at that one," – Lucian suggested a Ravenclaw to Per, "Isn't she one of the fifth years?"
"Nah, I wouldn't know. Hes, what do you think?"
Hestia shrugged and kept on her tiptoes, hoping to find her sister in the crowd.
"There's no subtlety with these daft bints, look!" – Adrian pointed at a Huff girl, one of his year, who giggled so hard with her Ravenclaw date, the boy couldn't step on the steps while dragging her on his arm.
"He should have brought a stake to prop her up," – Sophie suggested when they both stumbled and only the crowd caught their weight.
"Perhaps the Huffs raided Greenhouse Seven again," – Cas suggested, grinning.
"Well, if they reaped Sprout's hash, they should have shared it with all the Houses," – Tracey deemed. "But why would it only affect Isobel?"
"You know her?" – Lucian filed away the Huff's name for future use.
"Fleetingly," – Tracey affirmed with a nod. "We both worked our arses off two weeks ago when Sprout gave me detention. The wretch should have shared if she paid herself back!"
Adrian stared at her. "What on earth do you have to do for Sprout to assign you detention?"
Tracey shrugged, and Per took a more benevolent approach: "Hey, it's not a problem if she's ready to party! Whenever did we have a ball? I'm more concerned about those flitters by the great door! Look at that!"
They all turned, and Cas snorted when he saw the girl. "I bet they will glow in the dark! You lot gonna envy her foresight when the Weird Sisters arrive!"
"You can hang her under the ceiling. Flitwick didn't allow a disco ball…" – said Per.
"And I'll send up some sparks if I want to dance, mate," – Sophie assured Warrington. "Wands at the ready at the constant and all that shite."
Cas and Per snickered as softly as they could, and Lucian replied: "Sure thing. I'm constantly vigilant to catch sight of dinner," – Lucian replied to her.
"Or the Huff's hash," – Adrian jotted in.
"Where's that cockroach, anyway?" Per looked around when the others chuckled. "Will he spoil this blast, too?"
They looked above the crowd to find Moody, but all they could spot were McGonagall and Flitwick struggling to keep the masses at bay. Suddenly, the old oak doors turned open, and the Durmstrang students marched in with their various dates on their arms. There was Hornblow and Elderton, both visibly pleased to find a loophole around Snape's strict rules for the evening, and a young girl in a pale blue dress on Krum's arm who seemed vaguely familiar to Hestia and Anne.
Before they could sufficiently discuss the new arrivals and Per could elaborate on the conjured rose bushes before the entrance, McGonagall called away the Champions, and the Great Hall's winged doors opened for the rest of them.
"Now your dinner is around the corner," – Cas heartened Lucian when they spotted the tables that peppered the premises, all laid already with the nicest service Hogwarts could offer.
"There's hope," – Lucien agreed. "And where will you sit?"
There were tables in the front that could accommodate a dozen guests, but none of them were mad enough to sit close to the Ministry officials and the teachers. Down the Hall, the tables were on the smallish side, only having six seats around each, and the Slytherin bunch looked a little perplexed.
Adrian peeked at Tracey and then around. "I guess it wouldn't do to nick two plates and turn two chairs…" – he began, but as soon as they gathered around to examine their choices, one of the tables recognised the need and obediently slipped closer to another, and the service rearranged itself on the enlarged space. "Neat!"
The Champions walked in, and the Hall applauded them. Anne sensed the disturbance in the crowd when most – especially the Gryffindors pointed to Krum's date. She couldn't see the reason. The only thing remarkable about the girl was that none of them could recall seeing her before.
Sitting down, Sophie exchanged some polite words with Tracey about the silver frost on the walls and the hung garlands with mistletoe and ivy. Cas absently played with the lantern on the table, and Lucian discussed the menu cards with Per. Anne's curiosity turned to the front to examine the Ministry delegation.
Ludo Bagman always emitted the most puzzling vibes, mixing anxiety and amusement, vigour and secrecy… she never had the sense that he was honest or trustworthy. The young man by his side was different. His eagerness was genuine, even if Anne suspected it could drive a saint up the wall, and he seriously tried – albeit failed – to be pleasant. They were talking to the champions, and she watched the redhead who repeatedly formed a word… Was it …crow – croo – Crouch?
She looked around the greater tables. There were Krum, Potter, Diggory, and Delacourt with their dates, leaving space only for the two headmasters and Madame Maxime. Bagman and the young man – probably a Weasley – were seated nearby with an exceptionally gruntled Madame Hooch entertaining Ludo Bagman… Anne craned her neck… That must have been the Ministry table with two staff members from Bagman's crowd she didn't know, an empty place, three of the House Heads, and Sinistra, Babbling, Moody, goddamn him…
"I can see that you found the cockroach," – Warrington leaned closer, frightening her out of her skin. He laughed when she gasped and winced at his sudden presence. "What's wrong?"
"I don't see Crouch."
"Be glad about it!" – Lucian suggested without missing a beat.
"But Snape's also nowhere," – Sophie noticed now, peeking in the same direction. "Isn't he supposed to sit with the rest of them? There's McGee and Sprout, even Flitwick…"
Per almost stood up to see better. Adrian had to pull him back. "He's at the back!" – he suddenly said, pointing towards the backroom behind the Great Hall where the Head Table should have been. "Oh, my pantsless spellbound Merlin! Is that Sinistra going to him?"
Sophie and Anne turned in unison. "WHAT?!"
Nothing short of being shocked, the two girls watched Professor Aurora Sinistra standing from the table, walking up to Snape, putting her hand on his black-clad arm, and playing escort back to the table. Anne opened herself up for any kind of sensation in magic that could explain the phenomenon, and she sensed a hint of glee from McGonagall and Sprout, decided annoyance from the part of Moody, and amusement from Professor Sinistra. Surprisingly, the annoyance seemed to echo from a nearby table where Madame Pince sat with Charity Burbage, Argus, Trelawney and others, and Anne didn't entirely trust herself about not feeling the same.
"Oh, knock it off. Sinistra is a snake, too," – Adrian suggested, seeing the girls' astonishment. "Per, you keep mentioning he had to attend balls frequently back in the day when they still yearly held them."
"Yeah, well…" – Per was less assured in his opinion, but Anne couldn't care less.
With her gaze fixed on Snape and her senses wide open to gather emotions around the front tables, Anne couldn't have missed the Headmaster's covert nod if she tried. Snape shook his head slightly in reply before he turned his attention to his menu card and mumbled something to his plate. The anxious awareness from Moody's side would have alerted a less skilled Legilimens, and Anne was certain he also noticed the exchange.
They ordered their dinner, and the chat quickly turned away from the teachers' peculiarities so she wasn't tempted to share her thoughts. All too soon, Dumbledore stood up and sent the empty tables to the sides of the Hall, enlarging the parquet, and Warrington descended into an easy bow before her. The champions opened the dance, and they were among the first few dozen couples who joined them, swirling around Lucian and Sophie, then Per and Hes, who wistfully stared over her date's shoulder toward Flora and the Beauxbatons boys having fun under the ogee curved arch windows.
Anne was momentarily engaged with the intricate pattern the sixth-year Slytherins thought out to keep exchanging partners within their circle and almost conceded that the Weird Sisters didn't suck when it came to music, even if she wouldn't have chosen their album against Muggle punk until Adrian had to sit one round out because Tracey danced with Per and Hestia disappeared. As Sophie pointed out, it wouldn't have been worrisome if her sister wasn't still dancing with Romain Canin, but neither could spot the other two misfits of their crowd.
Cas looked for Snape, but he wasn't in the Hall, so they decided to look for Hes themselves. Per and Tracey ran the length of the Great Hall, and Sophie looked into the lavs on the ground floor, but they were nowhere. Finally, Cas took Anne's hand and navigated her out of the castle, suspecting that the fairy-lit rosebushes would have been the best choice if someone was about to have a short romance. They walked by several couples, variously preoccupied with their pursuits along the gravel path before Anne's senses were overloaded with the vibes of lust around her and begged Cas to turn back and ask the others if they found anything. They looked to the great door, and Warrington laughed up:
"Merlin, can you imagine how hard that snotty Malfoy boy would giggle if he saw Potter meandering the lanes with his sidekick?"
Anne stopped short and couldn't believe her eyes. The Gryffindor champion walked past the rosebushes with the youngest Weasley boy instead of his date or the curly witch they kept around. It was a laugh even before Snape turned up from nowhere with Karkaroff on his heels and, judging by their faces, probably sent the boys on a short route to hell.
What bothered her more was Karkaroff's impression in magic. His concern grazed the level of panic, and Snape kept blasting apart the bushes, probably dishing detentions like sweets in a chocolate factory. Warrington nudged her to return to the castle if she wanted to talk to Sophie and Tracey, but suddenly, she was reluctant to move. There was something eerie about the duo, and it didn't help when Karkaroff stepped closer to Snape, trying to snatch his arm. Anne gasped, and even Cas went still, watching in shock as their House Head dodged the Durmstrang Headmaster, sidestepping him swiftly, wand in hand. His stance looked menacing even from afar, and Karkaroff blanched at whatever he told him.
It wasn't surprising to see Karkaroff leaving in a hurry, but when Snape looked around, Anne knew even Cas was silently praying for whatever means to divert his attention. She watched Snape shudder and pocket his wand before he walked inside the castle at a measured pace. He didn't look happy at all, and she wished he wasn't occluding, but she couldn't sense him with her magic even as little as she could at other times.
"Come," – Warrington touched her elbow and urged her back towards the castle. "Something tells me we shouldn't gossip about this with anyone."
Anne's senses finally returned from the scene she had witnessed, and her surprised glance sought out Warrington's eyes. The boy shrugged abashed and kept navigating her towards the oak door.
"I might have seen something similar after classes the other day. Although Snapey suggested I hadn't seen anything, and I believe him." His words failed to explain the grave emotions Anne sensed around him. It wasn't exactly fear but rather a dark knowledge and sadness about something inevitable. It was the sure conviction about something dark and joyless anticipation.
"What did you not see, Cas?"
Warrington looked at her gravely, but he didn't stop walking. "The Mark. Karkaroff showed Snape the Mark."
"Shit." Anne let the short whisper slip out so she wouldn't ask why he would do that. It was insane! He must have known how much Snape despised him. Why would he think that would change by showing off something that abhorrent?
Warrington stopped her before they reached the door. "Anne, whatever you think, you shouldn't mention this to anyone."
"Don't worry, I'm not totally deranged. And we didn't see anything anyway."
He nodded with relief mixed with those rare disturbing sparks of admiration she tried to keep at the minimum. Then he let her into the castle, and the warmth and the lights rendered all former worries surreal. When Sophie and Per approached them from the Great Hall, it was easy to act like they had witnessed nothing.
"Now we can't find Flora either, and Romain won't talk," – Sophie reported, visibly annoyed.
"Let me speak to him," – Anne stepped towards the Great Hall, but Per stopped her.
"Erm, not that way… I'll show you."
"What did you do to him?" – Cas promptly asked, but Per silenced him.
"Shut up!"
It should have been a warning that Warrington was snickering before they reached the empty classroom Per and Sophie showed, but Anne didn't think of it. Her surprise was only the greater when she found Romain walking around a lonesome chair, trying and failing to untangle the shoelace that held him hostage to one of the chair legs.
"What did you do to him?" – Anne turned to Per when, instead of leaning down and unhooking the knot, Romain turned and walked around the chair in the other direction, frowning in his deep mental gymnastics to understand the nature of his captivity.
Cas's snorted snickers turned into soft whines as he slapped his knee in amusement. He did his utmost not to betray their whereabouts by laughing up aloud, and Per was grinning madly as he said:
"Nothing horrible, just tied his shoelace to the chair's leg. Childish, I know… It's really not my fault if he couldn't work it out after Borgin's Confundus hit him."
Anne turned to Sophie, but she only shrugged. "He had to be dealt with before he tried something stupid."
"Is that what you want to tell Snape, too?" – Anne put her hands on her waist, but it wasn't the moment to confront her friends. Rolling her eyes, she stepped before Romain, stopped him in his tracks, and told him: "I'll let you go if you tell us where your friends took the Carrows."
Expecting only incoherent blabbering, she looked into the boy's eyes and silently slipped into his mind for directions. The landscape appeared distorted like in a drunken haze. The room was blurry, and the chair or the Slytherins' presence didn't register, but she saw a wild hare leaping through a pool and followed it into a memory her question must have stirred.
Romain stood by a staircase moulded of a solid stone wall, which already gave him the shivers. The floor-high door creaking open and the infernal cold whooshing out from a dark place didn't make it any better, but Jacques went for it, and his reluctance would only earn him mocking…
Anne broke the connection and softly asked again: "Where?"
It was unnecessary, but Sophie and the boys had to hear it from Romain. Thankfully, the French boy was still preoccupied with the memory. From his mumblings, they could clearly state only one word: "froid".
Per livened up. "Froid? The bastards took them outside of the charms! I don't know much, but froid means cold!"
"And if they know a cold place inside the castle?" – Anne challenged Sophie. "What if they wanted to seem funny?"
Cas and Per turned to the girls in confusion, and Sophie shook her head. "No, they wouldn't. There's no reason for them to go there…"
"What are you two talking about?" – Cas asked Anne, and she wished she could tell him. But it was Sophie's secret, and she had to toughen up and own her stupidity. She merely looked at her friend and waited.
It took longer than Anne expected, but after a few moments of inner struggle, Sophie let an unladylike curse slip her mouth, pulled her wand, and aimed at Romain: "Finite!"
"What are you doing?" – Per protested, but Sophie sidestepped him.
"Did they think opening the vault I showed you would be fun?"
Romain stared at her like he didn't understand what she was asking, but then he must have recognised he was hopelessly outnumbered and nodded. Sophie turned on her heel and started for the secret corridor, but the rest of them were delayed as Romain had no idea what the state of his shoe was and fell through the chair as soon as he tried to follow her. It was way too funny for Warrington and Per to leave the classroom with any measure of seriousness, and Anne stuck behind them, now worried about Sophie.
Out in the corridor, she picked up her dress robe and sprinted to the main staircase with the boys on her heels.
"What's that place?" – Warrington panted behind her.
"Remember the tales back in your first year about Rakepick and all the rot around her?"
Per got to her other side, running up the stairs. "I do."
"Well, Sophie knows where those things were done."
"What?"
The next landing moved away with Sophie and was yet to return, so they stopped short and Anne had a moment to explain.
"Look, Cas, this is also just a thing we never saw, okay? There were vaults, corridors, and dark magic, and those who played with Rakepick all got caught up with them. Sophie wanted to prank the French guys, and we took them there for shits and giggles, but now they probably wanted to show it to the Carrows, and I doubt it would end well. You don't need to come. I doubt this is still part of a group date or whatever…"
Warrington stared, but mixed emotions didn't slow Per Derrick, who quickly dismissed her warning: "Don't be daft, Borgin is one of us!"
Anne was touched. She doubted her year mates would have said the same about her.
"Cas?" – Per demanded.
"Okay, this whole thing never happened, and we aren't here," – Warrington replied, taking a deep breath and loosening his shoulders. He suddenly looked as focused as before a match for the Quidditch Cup. The staircase returned for them, and he was ready. "Let's go!"
They ran up to the third floor, carefully avoiding the Infirmary side. Anne led them to the stone wall of a side corridor, where Sophie was already busy trying to get inside a tall door that shouldn't have been there in the first place.
"Can you open it?" – Per asked her with practicality, his wand standing tall.
Anne sensed Sophie's astonishment even before she spoke: "What are you all doing here?"
Cas shrugged. "Backup. Go for it, Borgin!"
Sophie turned back to the tall door, and it finally creaked open after a series of her charms. The cold or the darkness wasn't less eerie than they had been for the first time a few months before, but it occurred to Anne how the room vibrated now differently. As if it shrunk since then or lost some of its might… but the terror and disappointment lingering in the air seemed more important for now.
"They are inside," – she reported.
Per stepped before Sophie. "Hey, I hate to be the good boy, but should we do this alone?"
"And who would you call here? Snapey?" – Sophie turned on him. "Will you tell him the whole story of how three of the school's guests learned about restricted places? Or how Annie countered dark magic outside of classes for fun?"
"Don't get your knickers in a twist, gal, he merely asked," – Warrington reminded, but Anne could sense that she was way too afraid to think right.
"It's okay, Sophie, we don't know what's going on in there," – she tried to convince her. "Per was only being careful."
"Yeah? Well, he shouldn't be here in the first place, and so he wouldn't get hurt," – Sophie countered. "I didn't want this!"
"No one said you did." Warrington was everything placating. Those guys are nuts. They deserve what they get. Per only thinks that it's better to live with a detention on your file than… you know… kicking it before you must."
Sophie finally relented. "What do you suggest then?"
"I don't even know what might be inside," – Per shrugged. "Have you both been in there?"
The girls nodded without enthusiasm.
"The door opened this time more easily than before. Last time Annie needed a lot of juggling, like cursebreaker," – Sophie told them. "There's something inside like a frame shooting freezing hexes, and you don't want to get hit, but once someone reaches the frame, the humbug stops, and it's just a chamber. I have no idea what could have been kept there before, but now there's nothing. Only the remains of what used to guard whatever it was."
Per slowly nodded.
"Humbug and hexes," – Warrington repeated. "So… would a Shield Charm protect you?"
Sophie looked at Anne. "We never tried."
The thought about hexes recalled a memory, and Anne begged for just two minutes. She ran full speed to the corner of the side corridor, and when she was sure they couldn't see her, she turned back time with only half an hour. Now, there was no need to hurry. The castle up here was silent. She took her time to calm down and walked to the fourth floor, slipped behind Nimue's tapestry, and climbed up to her tower, where the charmed crystals were hidden in her desk's drawer. She took a handful and returned to the side corridor, willed herself invisible, and waited for her younger self to pass by. When her former self left, she hurried back to the others.
"Before we try the Shield Charm, you should have one of these."
They looked at her in confusion, but Anne prompted Sophie to examine the crystals in detail,
Sophie was astonished. "Where did you get these?"
"Long story," – Anne hedged, "but can you use them?"
Sophie grinned. "Sure!"
Per and Cas weren't that simple to convince. They weighed the crystals on their palms and struggled to understand the exchange.
"What are these?" – Warrington asked again.
"Charmed crystals," – Sophie hurried to help him. "You charm or transfigure it, it doesn't matter. Whatever magic you use will link it to your magic and make you bulletproof… so to say."
"To a point," – Anne corrected, remembering the ugly show of the coal-coloured edges and the dead crystal after her detention with Moody. "It's worth a shot."
They charmed or transfigured their crystals, and Per cast a strong Protego Amica around their whole group before Sophie turned towards the door again and braved the evil chamber.
The sight told a whole tale of adventuresome incompetence. Judging by the position of the blocks of ice Flora and Jacques were frozen into, they must have entered first, Flora probably playing the mighty witch and Jacques trying to free her when the first hex hit, only to freeze next to her. Flora's wand hand hopelessly stuck into the ice, but how and when Jacques lost his wand was a mystery. Instead of heading for the frame on the other side of the chamber, Chad must have tried to free them. His body lay motionlessly, his hand still reaching towards his friend, and Hestia took cover behind her sister's ice block in an endless argument about the best approach to free her.
It would have been funny without the wall piece constantly shooting freezing hexes at them, but it did, and Anne was grateful for Per's foresight casting that Protego Amica.
"This is ridiculous," – Sophie cried out, obviously sharing Anne's sentiment, but she also showed the difference in her approach within a second when she shot a strong blasting curse towards the frame. "Reducto! Hell, Reducto!" – she repeated. "Annie, don't you remember how you once made it snow in the dorm?"
That was a lovely memory. More importantly, it recalled the curse she hadn't used since her second year.
"Reducto," – Anne shouted at the wall piece, but their curses made little impact even with Warrington's help, who quickly caught on. "There's nothing to it. One of us has to cross the chamber," – Anne cried over the impact blasts' noise to Sophie.
"I will go," – she nodded and didn't wait for Anne to cast a shielding charm over her, but the freezing curse left her unharmed, swallowed up by the crystal's charm.
"Protego Amica!" Anne shouted, aiming at Sophie. She followed her at a wand point as she ran across the room, finally blasting the frame off the wall with Warrington's continuous help. The boy cast a series of Reductor Curses above Sophie's head like a counter-barrage.
The silence was sudden and almost eerie. Hestia's frightened panting was the only noise they could hear. Then Per looked around and let the shield fall.
"Well, that was subtle," – he noted, looking at the four-foot-wide blackened hole on the wall.
"Who said the Ball wouldn't be a blast?" – Warrington snickered.
Sophie chuckled with them. "Good thing the whole mess will be hidden again, right?"
"For fuck's sake, now you've had your moment, could you also get me out of here?" – Flora rasped out. She probably tried to sound menacing, but with her teeth clattering, it was hardly more than a whinge.
Following protocol, Anne stepped to the three victims and first examined Chad.
"Leave him alone and help Flora!" – Hestia cried behind the ice block.
"He's unconscious," – Anne dismissed her and cast a Diagnostic Charm, not giving a tuppence whether the others found it strange. The runes signed no inner injuries but a magical impact. The boy must have been only hit by a Stunner. "Ennervate!"
Per crouched down to help Chad when he came to, and Anne stepped to Jacques, worried about his silence. His tears reddened his face, and he seemed to try to mumble, but he could not form words. A Diagnostic Charm revealed several magical impacts and various minor burn marks.
"Whatever did you cast on him?" – Anne demanded from Flora.
"Langlock," – she shrugged. "Oldy but goodie, my aunt said it once had been hot. And he got on my nerves."
Anne frowned. Wasn't that one of the spells she found on the margins of Snape's Potion Book? She hardly had the time to solve this puzzle now. She shook her head and focused on Jacques.
"Finite Incantatem!" – she pointed her wand at his mouth, and complaints in a mix of English and French words began to softly pour from the boy. His eyes looked so tired and tortured that Anne almost pitied him. Her Levitating Charm held him up while Sophie's wand melted the ice. Then they lay him on the floor, and Anne put a stasis on his wounds until she could get him Burn Paste.
Meanwhile, Cas and Per freed Flora similarly from her captivity, and Hestia hugged her sister with relief. One of the odd things about the Carrows was their steadfast loyalty to each other while they happily betrayed or tortured anyone else. Their emotions filled the air now, and it would have been adorable had Anne known the sisters any less. She cast a Diagnostic Charm over Flora.
"You could use a Calming Draught, but you'll be fine," – she told her. "If you begin to cough, you should ask for a Pepper-up from the Infirmary. Do you want me to get you a potion?"
Flora's face changed so quickly to show her baleful distrust, Anne found it eerie.
"Why would you bother?" – Flora spat. "Why did any of you come here at all? You jealous bint! Couldn't just let us have a night, could you?"
Per indignantly explained to her how and why he wasn't about to let his date disappear without a word, be the bird whatever much repulsive or stupid, and Sophie added some plain words of her own, but Anne didn't wait for the squabble to die. She left the room, hoping Poppy wouldn't ask much if she nicked a Burn Paste, three Calming Draughts, and conveniently forgot the Pepper-up so Flora could look after herself as she pleased. She was surprised when Warrington caught up with her before she could reach the Infirmary wing.
"That was amazing," – he began, adjusting his steps to hers. "Where did you learn this?"
Anne recalled the old excuse for lingering around the Infirmary and reminded him of her frequent illnesses in her second year. "If you spend too much time around Poppy Pomfrey, she grows on you," – she finished. "Maybe it would be better if you waited outside so she wouldn't ask too much."
"Sure," – Cas agreed, but his emotions read differently. Anne knew she had amazed him, and he wasn't about to forget her or that night. Snape would kill her for this. His first rule was not calling attention, and Warrington just wanted to gift her that: his unrelenting attention. Anne rolled her eyes and did her best to finish this mess quickly.
By some grace of Fate, or maybe because this time they were finally unnerved by the old castle and its odd occupants, neither Jacques nor Chad protested when their treatment depended on their oath to keep their mouths firmly shut. It was Sophie's idea, but Per strongly supported it, and the Carrows already left before Anne and Cas returned with the potions. The ironic punishment for their errant ways came by Argus' hand, who stopped the four tired Snakes in their descent on the main stairs and, finding the unsolicited Calming Draughts, proceeded with all the severity of the school's rules for Infirmary potions, promising point loss and detentions by their House Head's hands.
Despite it all, Per and Sophie wanted to join Lucian in the Great Hall, where the Weird Sisters were through providing polite salon music and finally began their concert. The disco vibes and the tumultuous emotions as a school-full of wiz-kids let loose proved too much for Anne, so she said good night. Warrington insisted on escorting her back to the Common Room, so she had to sneak out like a snotty second-year after curfew to explain herself to Argus. He wasn't enchanted by her performance that night.
"If you came to wiggle out of your due punishment, you should have stayed at the shindig," – Argus Filch grumbled as soon as he saw her. "I know mischief when I see it. You've been in the mud up to your ears, lass."
"I didn't come to debate that," – Anne readily accepted. "If I had any woes, that would only be because half of the perpetrators weren't caught."
Argus looked her over through narrowed eyes. "If that's the way of it, your professor will sort it out. I will warn him. But you should know, lass, this is the last thing he needed to be added to his night."
When Anne nodded, showing her regrets, Argus finally reached for his tea things, signalling he was done chewing her out. Anne sat by his table and let her anxious energy leave her system with a long sigh.
"I imagine he must have had a hard time with Headmaster Karkaroff running him down outside. We saw it," – she explained when Argus looked up at her words. "For a moment, I thought he was ready to curse him."
"He is too disciplined to do so, although it wouldn't go amiss, I gather," – Argus grumbled. "He has enough on his plate without your meddling, lass. You shouldn't have pushed him."
"I didn't push him!" – Anne protested, but Argus shook his head.
"Is there green in my eye? After all the rot in the summer, you somehow managed to get his hackles up so high I couldn't even mention you anymore, then you vanish from my birthday as good as if together, and the next time you bother to visit, it's Christmas already."
Anne wanted to protest or argue, but as Argus crankily puttered with the biscuit box, renewing waves of concern and fear rolled off of him, disturbing the magic in the room. She loved his crankiness, but this level of alarm would have been shocking even without the dreadful words telling how her old friend had seen her ways. And it all gone even worse as Argus mumbled on:
"I know Rus Snape like the back of my hand for longer than I care to look back, and he thinks too much of things that would never help him. And I know you, lass, enough to know you would chat your life away at my table if there weren't somewhere you already poured out your soul. He has better things than to be your "somewhere". Even Irma noticed and asked me to talk to him. But that didn't go down well, either. Not well at all."
"I like talking to him. That much is true," – Anne softly said when Filch finally set the small table and was ready to join her. After all that was said and whatever she sensed from his emotions, it seemed a minor miracle he did so, but Argus also had a soft spot for her still, which undeniably showed under the fear-driven admonishment. "I never wanted to neglect you, sergeant," – she added, trying to charm him. "It won't happen again, I promise!"
When Filch harrumphed, she decided to tease him out of his horrible mood: "But Madame Pince looked all bit a proper witch even in such a beautiful ball robe, didn't you think, Argus? I saw you two waltzing. I thought you would make a fine dancer, sergeant Filch, but I couldn't have been bold to imagine her smile so widely when you turned her around!"
Filch's fleeting grin signalled her partial win, but his eyes soon narrowed on Anne again.
"If you think you will get away with more cheek…."
"But Sergeant, I'm telling you the truth!" – Anne laughed, finally putting her friend at ease.
"She did smile, did she? I'd noticed that myself," – Argus smiled and poured two cups of tea. "But Annie, I meant what I said. You shouldn't call too much attention. Irma noticed how you gave pause to not one young man in the room, and even if I'm inclined to agree that it should be the way of it, your professor will not indulge you with any kind of frivolity. The devil knows what you agreed upon, but having your kin and this unavoidable fight in mind…"
"Are you talking about the Dark Mark?" – Anne stopped him to ask. She wanted to see clearly, but Argus only muddled up everything:
"Now, lass, there's no need to discuss the World Cup again!" he quickly dismissed her next question with a wave of his hand, but Anne could sense his duplicity and alarm.
Why would Argus lie to her? It was still hurtful, even if she sensed how reluctantly he did so, but it was also evident as day that he wouldn't volunteer information. It might have been because he mentioned her kin or because of the covert accusation about Snape, or maybe she was only too tired to think clearly… Anne lost patience, looked Argus straight in the eye, and sank into his mind.
The memory that bothered him was right at the forefront. Argus did his best to talk around it, but looking at Anne was enough to evoke all he wished to hide.
He was just returning from the library, where the fire let Irma Pince back to her Hogsmeade cottage, leaving the keys to close the witch's realm to him. Years counted or not, it still gave him a boyish grin when a woman of a good sort trusted him with something important to her. Argus rounded the first-floor landing, ready for a celebratory cup after a night that went well, when Rus stormed in from a hidden passage in a mood befitting a savage.
Anne hurried through a dozen coarse grumblings while she watched from Argus's point of view as the two men withdrew into the caretaker's office. Snape's gripe included repeated promises about Karkaroff's disgraceful end and various thoughts about dunderheads and "the wizarding world's questionable taste in music if one would degrade the word so low as to include whatever the Weird Sisters added to the night…"
But Filch seemed especially hung upon the part of "…that insufferable menace lurking over the entrance when this idiot decided to swing out his Mark! I swear down, sergeant, I can't decide which one's the dafter, but what the hell should I expect where Albus fucking Dumbledore takes pleasure in gloatingly denouncing my whole bloody House!"
Upon Argus' question, he told a tale about the Headmaster asking whether he wished to flee like Karkaroff would if the Dark Lord returned. The words flew so casually from Snape's tongue, not even stirring disturbance or doubt in Argus' mind; for a second, Anne was afraid she'd lost all sense of reality… Then came the unforgivable words of the oldest Gryffindor alive: 'We sort too soon" as if a Snake couldn't or wouldn't be trustworthy or brave. He couldn't stand firmly on principles, like – in Anne's opinion – Professor Snape mostly did, and any kind of heroism or better-chosen values should necessarily belong to a Gryff.
At this point, Snape was roaming circles the kitchenette, punching into random objects while Argus' neck began to hurt following him around. However, when he urged him to calm down, he must have chosen the wrong words:
"We know he's talking bollocks. Just look at the lass, Rus. You call her a Hufflepuff, and Poppy says she should have been a Ravenclaw. Nothing good ever comes from trusting that cap's nonsense. You should know that the best."
"Didn't I get enough punches to earn the right to be a happy Snake?!" – he turned on him, outraged. "The girl is the best thing ever happening to this House! I wish I had a hundred like her to deal with!... Bloody wench…." – he added a moment later but in a more peaceful tone and a slight smirk around his lips. It seemed he stopped to contemplate having a hundred Anne Rosiers on his hands. "With this attitude about the rules, she would never make a Hufflepuff. I told her, plain and simple, she shouldn't call attention, and have you seen what she had done to herself?"
"There wasn't much havoc that I recall," – Argus carefully noted.
"No? Perhaps you haven't seen her. A knockout walking! A brutal one! Jesus! Not calling attention is not a difficult chore, but watch now that snotty-nosed buster slobbering all over her! What an arse!" – he didn't finish, only lost momentum and stared at the wall for a second, enough for Argus to interject:
"Rus, do you hear yourself, son?"
Anne sensed Filch's astonishment, and at this point, it rivalled only her own. Snape turned and stared him down.
"I'm only saying that dressing up to the nines is in no way the right approach if one tries to avoid –"
"A Ball?" – Argus helped him to find the right word. "Have you noticed there's one currently held outside?"
"Don't be ridiculous!" Snape waved him off with all the uncomfortable titbits he obviously wasn't ready to contemplate or discuss.
At least Filch understood his gesture as such and prepared to see him go. "Ridiculous must be the word, lad," – he pointed out, unsurprised when his only answer was a baleful grimace as Snape stormed away.
Of all the disturbing aspects of her visit in Argus' mind, the worst was his suspicious glance when she cut eye contact. The last thing Anne wished to risk was their precious friendship, but she couldn't regret learning about… oh, gods, it couldn't be true that they all expected the Dark Lord to return?! Warrington should have kept Snape's secret, but Anne saw no danger in sharing it with Filch:
"Argus, I didn't talk about the World Cup." She said. "I meant… I heard about Karkaroff's Mark. He still has it or has it again, and he was seen when he showed it to –"
"He keeps pestering him about it. Is that what you've been looking for?" Anne looked up at his challenging tone and knew Filch had found out that she had at least attempted to peek into his thoughts.
"Sorry."
"You still have the grace to blush," – her old friend grumbled. "I know what you tried to do because the Headmaster does it freely with everyone. Rus tells me you barely know enough to protect a secret, so I will let this go, lass. But I warn you, I wasn't born yesterday."
His tone was calm and grave. He showed no anger, only sadness. It was worse than the worst punishment. Anne felt her eyes grow warm with tears she knew better than to shed.
"I'm terribly sorry, Argus, I grew impatient. It won't happen again, I just –"
"Just?" Strangely, she sensed in him hope, perhaps hope to mend whatever breach grew on their shared trust, or just to make it better or worth it by some means….
"I could sense… I had a feeling that you wanted to lie to me," – she corrected herself. "I never felt that way before, and I-" – Anne tried to think about anything that would justify breaking into a friend's mind to force the truth from them before they were ready to share, and she came up empty-handed. "I'm sorry, sergeant, it was wrong."
"At least you know it," – Argus grunted and packed away the biscuits. It was such a basic way to show displeasure and so effective that Anne had to smile.
Argus sat back at the table and sipped his tea as if nothing had happened. Then he suddenly asked: "Do you have any living relatives bearing the Mark?"
After her faux pas, Anne couldn't accuse him of being intrusive or pushy, even if such a question was way too personal to tolerate from any other.
"Not to my understanding. My father never took it, and my brothers are too young. My aunt married a Travers who didn't bear it, and so, to my best knowledge, they wouldn't even know if the Marks returned. I heard they had faded after…" She shrugged because those times were beyond words. Those times were horror and fear, not logical thoughts. Even less the way she recalled them.
"They had," – Argus affirmed. "Now they are back to those who bore them. I wish I wasn't the one who told you."
Anne stared at him. "Why?"
"Because an old selfish bastard can wish for things, too, that's why. I enjoy discussing cats and studies, even films or books and a good meal, like a person, and not my bloody schedule or politics as it's the fashion here around… but you were right about needing to know it. Don't discuss it, and don't panic, for Merlin's sake! But He is about to return."
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