Swept From the Past

Chapter 13: The lost Pirates

Hermione left her Arithmancy class deep in thought. She knew she had to tell Harry all she had heard about Professor Burns, but something prevented her from saying anything. Of course, Harry had seen the form the Boggart took, like the few courageous students who had stayed in class. But Hermione didn't tell him all that she had discovered about their Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.

Harry had shown Hermione the letter sent by Lupin. Two sentences had hit her: "You could cause a lot of damage without wanting it. Sirius wouldn't have wanted you to inquire about that." Maybe those two sentences encouraged her to hold her tongue. "A lot of damage..." Hermione knew Professor Burns was very ill, that her disease was caused by a shock. And Harry... Harry wanted to know the truth. But what was the price for that? Certainly Sirius had good reasons for not wanting Harry to inquire about that. Maybe that would hurt Professor Burns more than Harry thought? Maybe that would kill her? Hermione remembered the crisis Burns had in the corridor. And Harry was so impulsive. Hermione wanted to know more before telling him anything. He was much too involved when it concerned Sirius.

Professor Burns seemed to have loved Sirius passionately. And Snape seemed to have strong feelings for Burns. Hermione knew it was something private, something which would hurt at least two people. And she imagined herself in Burns' place, in her bridal gown full of blood. She didn't know what had happened, but it had been terrible for her. Hermione felt pity. If she had been Burns, she wouldn't have liked people to search for information about her, to inquire about her ruined marriage, which spoiled her whole life!

Burns... Sirius... Snape... Hermione didn't know the truth about this love-triangle. Did Snape interrupt the marriage? Or maybe his Death Eater friends did? It depended on the wedding date. The only real date Hermione had was Hallowe'en. Voldemort's defeat happened three years and a few months after Burns and Sirius left Hogwarts. Then Sirius had been taken to Azkaban.

Hermione developed her theories. She chose a date at random. The wedding could have been set two years after Burns left Hogwarts. But in that case, why didn't she marry Sirius a few months later, since she survived the attack? Hermione remembered her first theory, when she thought Burns was shocked because Sirius had been taken to Azkaban. But if so, the marriage and the attack happened on Hallowe'en, or the following day, maybe. Hermione bit her lip. Something was wrong with her reasoning. It couldn't have happened the following day. Sirius was looking for Pettigrew. And everyone knew Harry's parents had been killed. The wedding would have been cancelled.

Sirius said that he had checked on Pettigrew the night Harry's parents had died. Maybe he went to see Pettigrew a few hours before the wedding was set. And maybe Burns was waiting for Sirius to come back to be married? Hermione wasn't satisfied with her theories. She felt something important was missing.

Anyway, if Snape attacked Burns, he was surely still a Death Eater at the time. So it happened before Hallowe'en. Maybe Snape had decided to join Dumbledore after he spoiled Burns' marriage? When he realised the damage he'd done to her.

Hermione smiled slightly. She realised she didn't have the right to inquire about Burns more than Harry. However, she felt close to her in a certain way. The Burns/Sirius/Snape love-triangle reminded her of her own love-triangle. Viktor was famous; almost every girl wanted to be loved by him. Every girl except her. Viktor had feelings for her, but she didn't feel the same. Not the way he would have liked. And she felt something for Ron, an imbecile who would never notice her. Something stronger. Something she didn't understand. Hermione sighed. How complicated! It was much easier when she was in third year, before she met Viktor!

Hermione wanted to know all about Burns. That was a kind of personal quest, something she wanted to discover by herself. She wouldn't share it with anyone. Hermione was convinced it would help her to sort out her own feelings for Ron and Viktor.

She turned the corner of the corridor. Suddenly, she bumped into a gigantic form. She fell backwards. When she raised her head, she saw Hagrid in front of her.

"Are yeh all right?" Hagrid asked. He helped her to get up.

"Yes," Hermione replied. "I was thinking. I didn't see you. Sorry."

"Er," said Hagrid, "do yeh have a minute?"

"Yes," Hermione replied.

Hagrid looked stranger than usual. He seemed ill at ease.

"I jus' saw Harry an' Ron," Hagrid replied. He looked awkward. "They told me I'd find yeh here." He paused. "I thought yeh could... help me."

"What can I do for you?" Hermione asked. She was intrigued.

"I'd like ter offer a present to Olympe... er... Madame Maxime," said Hagrid. "For Christmas. An' I need advice."

"Christmas?" Hermione repeated. "But it's early November!"

"I know," Hagrid replied, "but I want ter offer her something great. Las' year, I offered her a scarf, but I don' think she liked it. I never saw her wear it. I want ter think o' it right now."

Hermione knew Hagrid's taste in clothes. He had probably offered Madam Maxime a green, ugly, woollen scarf spotted in red, violet, and yellow. Something he had found wonderful.

"Do you have any idea of what she likes?" Hermione asked.

"Scarves," Hagrid replied sadly. "An' she likes pets!" His face lit. "Maybe I'd offer her a dog?"

Hermione's eyes became wide. A dog? She couldn't imagine Madam Maxime with a dog like Fang, drooling on her robes. Or Fluffy, the three-headed dog that almost ate Hermione, Harry and Ron in first year.

"Er," Hermione responded, "I don't think she'll like it."

"But everyone likes dogs!" Hagrid exclaimed.

"In fact," Hermione retorted, "I know a few people who fear them. And I don't think Madam Maxime would have time to take care of a dog! Maybe she'd like something more refined? Like a golden chain or perfume?"

"Perfume?" Hagrid asked. "That's a good idea! I didn' think o' it!"

Hermione regretted her last suggestion. She feared Hagrid would buy the worst perfume in the shop. He didn't have taste in perfume either!

"You should ask the shop assistant," Hermione said, to warn Hagrid gently. "When my father buys perfume to my mother, he always asks what the newest perfume is. One day, he chose it by himself, and the result was awful. Don't choose what you like. Follow the advice of a professional who knows what women like!"

Hagrid smiled. "That's what I'll do!"

"So are you going to spend Christmas with her?" questioned Hermione.

"Yes," Hagrid replied, "I invited her to spend Christmas at Hogwarts, an' she accepted! I'm sure Grawp'll remember her! And Olympe'll be glad to see him again!"

Hermione didn't know what to reply. She wasn't convinced Madam Maxime would appreciate seeing her sort of future step-brother one more time.

"Sure," she retorted finally.

There was a silence. "And what about yeh?" Hagrid asked. "Do yeh already know where you're spending Christmas?"

"Not yet," Hermione responded. "Maybe here, if Harry must stay at Hogwarts."

"That's nice of yeh," Hagrid replied.

"It's sad to spend the holidays alone," Hermione said. "I don't want Harry to be the saddest person at Hogwarts on Christmas day!"

"Oh, he wouldn' be the saddest one," Hagrid replied.

What did that mean? Hermione stared at him interrogatively. Who was Hagrid talking about?

"I shouldn'ta told yeh that!" he blurted out. He looked awkward. "Well... er... thank yeh, Hermione! I've ter go now!" Hagrid clumsily left her without telling more.

***

Neville was walking back from Herbology, when he noticed Professor Burns at the end of the corridor. The boy was never wholly reassured by the presence of the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Luna had told him a few scary stories about her, and Neville was convinced they were true. After all, he had seen enough with his own eyes to know Burns was dangerous. Neville kept walking, lowered his head, and stared at the floor. Maybe she would ignore him.

"Master Longbottom," Professor Burns said.

Neville jumped from fear. He avoided her stare. He didn't imagine she would talk to him. Neville shyly raised his head.

"Yes, Professor?" he replied almost non-audibly.

"I would like you to come with me to my office," Burns replied. "Now."

Neville felt blood pulsing in his temples. He felt sick. Come to her office? Why? Did she think he was in on the joke with Malfoy? Neville felt terrified.

"I know why you couldn't defend yourself in the Ministry last June," Burns continued.

Neville sighed inwardly. Sweat beaded on his forehead. So she didn't want to feed him to her snake? Neville wasn't quite sure he was safe, but he knew he couldn't refuse. That would anger Burns.

"All right, Professor Burns," he responded as politely as he could.

He followed her. Neville tried to be as brave as he could. After all, Burns had never been mean to him! But a slight voice in his head told him she could be. Neville couldn't prevent himself from thinking of Malfoy. And no one knew where he was now! No one saw him leave with Burns! What if she killed him and put his body in her wardrobe? Neville trembled.

They both entered the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher's office.

"Sit down," Professor Burns said.

Neville sat silently. Professor Burns sat too.

"Master Longbottom," Burns said after a pause. "I know you are scared of me."

Neville gulped. Would she punish him for that? He trembled.

"You have no reason to be," Burns continued.

Neville was too scared to reply anything.

"You are one of the privileged students I will never do anything to," Burns added.

Neville cast a quick, awkward glance to her. Burns smiled encouragingly. Was she telling the truth?

"I said a few things at the beginning of the year," Burns said, "and you followed my rules, contrary to some students like Draco Malfoy. He was punished for that." She paused. "I'm sure you heard the few subtle allusions Professor Snape made about you in class?" She asked ironically. "Snape is a bastard."

Neville jumped again. He knew Professor Burns hated the Potions master, but he didn't think she would use this word to refer to him.

"Exactly like the previous Potions master," Burns continued, deep in thought. "Anyway, I don't think you are such a catastrophe, Master Longbottom."

Neville stared at her, his eyes wide opened. What?

"I can't deny that you are not one of my best students," Burns said. "But you do your best. It's not your fault if you don't manage to produce strong spells." Burns stood up. "Give me your wand, please."

Neville obeyed.

Burns took his wand and observed it. "Like Mr. Ollivander says," Burns said, "It's not the wizard who chooses his wand. The wand chooses the wizard. Who gave you this one?"

"My... My great-uncle," Neville stuttered. "He used this one many years ago. Since he has another wand, he gave that one to me."

"And the previous wand you used was your father's," Burns replied, "Am I wrong?"

"No," Neville said, "I mean... yes... it was my father's. It was broken last June."

"Your grandmother and your grand-uncle were negligent," Burns said softly. "A few wizard families think that wands can be transmitted from father to son. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't. The wand you have, and had, didn't choose you. They each chose your great-uncle and your father."

"It's because of my wand?" Neville asked, dumbfounded. His mouth fell agape.

"How can you produce a good spell, if you lose half your energy fighting with your wand?" Burns replied. She opened a drawer and took a wand from there. "Take this one," she said.

Neville seized it. He felt a warmth in his fingers, something agreeable he had never felt with his other wands. A feeling of safety.

Professor Burns took a piece of parchment and put it on the table. "Now," she said, "try to levitate the parchment, Master Longbottom!"

Neville focused on the parchment. He cleared his throat, waved his wand, and uttered "Wingardium Leviosa!" The piece of parchment raised easily into the air, much more easily than usual. "It's working!" he exclaimed. He felt very happy. He had always thought he was good at nothing except at Herbology, and... that it was because of his lack of powers!

"How... how did you know?" he asked finally.

"You are obviously not a Squib, Master Longbottom," Burns responded, "since Squibs don't have magical abilities. And a wizard of your level can't produce such weak spells. So I thought it didn't come from you. I asked Mr. Ollivander what kind of wand he sold to you, but he told me he never did. Then I guessed what was wrong. I wrote to your grandmother to be sure of my theories. And she sent me this wand."

"But," Neville asked, "if the wand chooses its owner, why did my grandmother give me this one? Shouldn't I go to Mr. Ollivander's and get another?"

"Well," Burns replied, "I wanted you to try this one first. I had the impression it could fit you well. Since you tried the wands from your father's side, I thought you should try something else. Like your mother's, for example."

"That's my mother's wand?" Neville asked.

"Yes," Burns responded. "And it definitely chose you." She smiled slightly.

Neville grinned. He had been so sad when he broke his father's wand! He had always felt he was unworthy to have it, because he was awful at spells! But now... his mother's wand had chosen him! He felt proud and moved, as if he had found something which would link him to his mother. He suddenly felt close to her, and nothing could please him more! It was just as if, through her wand, his mother had recognised him.

***

The following Saturday, people crowded into The Three Broomsticks. The wizards and the students chattered loudly. Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and Snape sat at one of the tables. Madam Rosmerta took their order. Soon, she returned with mugs of Butterbeer and glasses of Firewhisky.

Minerva McGonagall was rather happy to sit. She had been watching the students to make sure no one was missing. Exhausting! The teachers of Hogwarts had been divided into several groups. It was finally time for Minerva's group to have a break.

"So," Madam Rosmerta said. "Dumbledore eventually allowed the students to come to Hogsmeade?"

"Yes," replied Professor Flitwick. "I don't know what they ate for breakfast, but they were very unmanageable! Almost unruly!"

"Shouldn't there have been four of you?" Madam Rosmerta asked. "That's what Madam Hooch told me."

"It would have been easier," Snape hissed, "if Professor Burns had condescended to join us, as she was supposed to do. However, she generously decided to let us deal with these insufferable students."

"Wasn't it too dangerous to bring the students here?" demanded Madam Rosmerta.

"The Headmaster has evaluated the risks," McGonagall uttered in a tone of confidence. "He concluded that the students would be safe... I don't know if that's prudent. But this morning he said everything would be all right. He said no one would try to attack the village."

"You know how much I respect Dumbledore," replied Madam Rosmerta. "But I don't know if he's right this time. Do you see those strange chaps there?" she whispered.

She designed a group of wizards sitting at a table in the left corner of the room. They chatted loudly with a young waitress. Professor McGonagall looked discreetly behind her, and cast quick glances to the group.

These wizards had strange looks. There was an old man with a wooden-leg, many scars on his face, and a long white beard. There was a thin, blond wizard with an eye-patch, and the biggest one had many rings fixed on his temples, what Muggles called piercings. Professor McGonagall couldn't see the others, because they were hidden in the shadow of a column.

"I don't know who they are," continued Madam Rosmerta. "I never saw them here before, but I'm suspicious! They could be spies of You-Know-Who... Since he returned, no one is safe... and these chaps are dressed very strangely! I've been told they were seen in Knockturn Alley... That's not a good sign..."

The three teachers listened very attentively to Madam Rosmerta.

"And you see this guy?" she added.

She designated a man seated at a table a few meters behind them. Professor McGonagall cast him a quick glance. He was a very tall man, huge for a wizard, but not as tall as Hagrid. He had a bald skull covered with impressive tattoos, and a long, thin moustache curled at the ends. His muscles bulged under a tight, green shirt.

"He's been observing them for almost two hours..." continued Madam Rosmerta. "As if he was waiting for someone... I don't like his stare..."

Professor McGonagall saw the door open. Professor Burns entered. She wore her traditional green cloak, her black leather gloves and her common icy stare.

"Professor Burns," Minerva whispered. Professor Snape, Professor Flitwick and Madam Rosmerta stared at her.

"Hey, mates," the thin man with the eye-patch exclaimed. "Here's the Capt'n!"

He made a sign with his hand for Burns to notice they were here. The whole group turned as if they knew Professor Burns very well. But they weren't the only ones who noticed her. The giant man with the strange tattoos observed her as well. A dark flash crossed his eyes, and he stood to his full height, a menacing expression on his face. He looked very dangerous.

"Hey, Burns!" he cried with anger. "Where's the money you owe me?!"

"Calm down," Burns replied with coolness, "you'll have your money... soon..."

"I WANT MY MONEY NOW!!!" he yelled.

He hit the table with his fist furiously. The table cracked in two. Everyone in the room fell silent and looked apprehensively at the tall, strong man. Professor McGonagall shivered. She wouldn't have liked to be in Burns' place. However, the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher didn't look scared at all.

"You'll have it soon, Bulk," Professor Burns retorted. Her voice was fearless.

"IT'S BULL!" the man shouted.

He propelled one half of the table behind him, as if it had been a simple piece of parchment.

"I WANT MY MONEY NOW!!!" he yelled again.

He approached Burns, his fist raised, ready to hit. Professor McGonagall saw that Snape fidgeted in his chair.

"It will hurt..." said the thin man, who had spoken before. He smiled.

Captain Burns stared at the giant man. She was both silent and motionless. She had a cold look in her eyes and a soft smile on her lips. The man leaned in to hit her. Suddenly, she did a backward jump, landed on her hands and kicked him hard on the face. The blow broke his nose. His head snapped back. Blood ran from his nose. He stared at Burns, dazed by the unexpected attack. Then she brushed away his legs, and made him fall on the floor with a great sound. She quickly took out a long sharp sword from a sheath inside her cloak. She made it whirl in her right hand, and put it under his throat.

"I said soon..." she retorted, a superior expression on her face.

Professor McGonagall sighed. She had feared Professor Burns would be harmed. She turned back. Professor Snape looked a little more relaxed. The group of weird wizards laughed hard.

"All Hail Capt'n Burns!" the thin wizard shouted with amusement.

"ALL HAIL CAPT'N BURNS!!!" the other members of the group replied loudly. They raised their mugs and chinked them. They stamped their feet loudly to honour her.

"Come and drink with us, Bull!" exclaimed Burns. "It's my round!"

She put the blade away from his throat, and put it back in the sheath.

"Madam Rosmerta, two Firewhiskies please!" she said. "Sorry for the table. I'll pay for it." She put three galleons in her fingers and tossed them on the bar.

Bull stood up awkwardly; he sat on the bench with the other guys. Captain Burns conjured a large golden throne and sat sidelong on it. Her legs leant on its arms, which ended with big dragon heads. Then, she drank her Firewhisky.

Then the strange warlocks started an odd song:

"That's Capt'n Burns,

This song she earns,

She's the most terrible Lady

In the entire world, hey!

Even when she speaks,

She terrifies the Freaks,

And you should all care,

About yourself, hey!

'Cause she has an iced stare,

A sharp poisoned knife,

A dangerous sword,

She can destroy your life

'Cause she can kill you,

Freeze every part of you,

She's our Dark Lord!

Our dangerous Lady!

Hey!!! That's Capt'n Burns,

This song she earns,

She's the most terrible Lady

In the entire world, hey!

'Cause she can face a Dementor,

And she's our best instructor,

She likes blood's smell like a bat!

And devours her prey like a Cat!

She will hunt all the mice,

Of this Dark Lord's lice,

She will kick the arse

Of his Bellatrix lass

And we, the Lost Pirates of the Emerald Star,

Cheer up in this simple bar,

Before following her and valiantly battling,

And helping her in the great beating!

That's Capt'n Burns,

This song she earns,

She's the most terrible Lady

In the entire world, hey!"

The assembly around them stared with stupefaction at this loud group of 'Lost Pirates,' as they called themselves.

The teachers of Hogwarts had stopped talking.

"I'll try to find out more about that," Madam Rosmerta whispered. "I'll tell you what I learn."

The Lost Pirates of the Emerald Star? So Professor Burns had used Grindelwald's...? How was that possible? Minerva McGonagall thought the Emerald Star had been destroyed! She had seen it sunk under water, when Grindelwald had died! Now she understood why Dumbledore said the students would be safe.

***

Madam Rosmerta left the Hogwarts teachers' table and went to the bar. She took the two Firewhiskies and a tea towel. She went to the strange wizards' table and served the drinks. Then she started to clean the tables that had emptied since Bull had arrived. She pricked up her ears.

Captain Burns drank her Firewhisky, an amused look on her face. Then, she calmed the men, who were laughing raucously.

"Hey, guys..." she simply said. "You are not very discreet... I guess Madam Rosmerta will not let you in next time. Be quiet. You're lucky she didn't throw you all out already."

Well, Captain Burns was right. Madam Rosmerta didn't like their attitude. She hoped they wouldn't come back!

"We never pass up an occasion to toast you, Capt'n!" said a young man with a bushy moustache.

Suddenly, a little white owl with black wings entered through the window, flew to Burns' right shoulder, and landed.

"What is the news, Misty?" she asked. She caressed her owl's head with her fingers, still covered by her leather gloves.

"Tut, tut," she said, clicking her tongue, "always under foot, that little Blondie Malfoy... Maybe I should skin him and use him like a bear skin rug. Taz! Greg! Mox!" she ordered. "Take care of Crabbe and Goyle! The blonde mouse will be mine..."

Malfoy? Crabbe? Goyle? Madam Rosmerta remembered they had been accused of being Death Eaters. But they had been released! Would those pirates attack them?

"What do we do with his family?" the one who was called Mox asked. "He's got a son and a wife..."

Madam Rosmerta repressed a gasp.

"His wife has been injured," Captain Burns replied. "She has been taken to St. Mungo's. She's not an obstacle. The son studies at Hogwarts. An awful boy with a big mouth and a giant ego. But he's not a threat either. I forbid you to touch him!"

That was surprising. Madam Rosmerta thought Burns would have responded differently.

"And what about Bellatrix Lestrange?" asked another man.

Bellatrix Lestrange? The dangerous Death Eater? Madam Rosmerta shivered.

"Don't worry about Bellatrix Lestrange, Taz," Captain Burns replied. "Remember what I did to the chief of the Giants?"

Taz nodded.

"That was nothing in comparison to what I will do to her," Burns continued. "I will torture her so much, that she will beg me to let her have a Dementor's kiss," she laughed. "She has to pay for many people... two of them are insane in St. Mungo's. They have a son, who will spend his whole life hoping they recognise him one day. They never will."

Captain Burns stopped speaking for several seconds.

Madam Rosmerta knew Burns was speaking about the Longbottoms. She also trembled. Nothing could be worst than a Dementor's kiss!

"She has victimised others," Captain Burns continued, "but for this particular case, she will be tortured severely. But I won't kill her quickly..." she added with a sadistic smile. "I will take my time. I will show her the meaning of the word despair. I will reveal her cowardice. The last wizard she killed was brave and the world needed his presence... Believe me, even Voldemort has never thought of the torture I'm about to use!"

The last wizard she killed? Who was she talking about? Madam Rosmerta flinched when she heard the name of The-One-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. She wondered how that woman could be so fearless, to dare to say his name, to dare to fight Bellatrix Lestrange.

"With all due respect, Capt'n," said Greg. "I know how powerful you are, but she has sent ten of us to St. Mungo's without any effort. The Dark Lord has given her new powers which make her almost invincible. She's very dangerous!"

That Greg was the voice of reason. Burns was probably out of her mind.

"Greg," Captain Burns replied simply, " do you know who I am?"

What a conceited woman!

"You are Capt'n Burns," replied Greg, "a very powerful sorceress and--"

"Exactly, Greg," Burns interrupted. "I'm Captain Burns, a very powerful sorceress. And I have a reputation to keep. Is Bellatrix Lestrange more powerful than I am? Maybe. The future will tell. But contrary to her, I don't care about dying."

She didn't care about dying? Now, Madam Rosmerta was sure Captain Burns was insane.

***

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