Armilla

Chapter 11

When I woke the next morning, Snape had already left for class. A tray with my breakfast sat on my bedside table. I didn't feel the slightest bit hungry. My dream kept playing itself over and over in my head. Generally I never remembered my dreams, but this one was certainly different. The woman's face was so clear in my mind. Those eyes were so full of concern that it pained me - and I didn't even know her. The state of her chewed nails showed that she had obviously been worrying about something for a long time.

I sat up in bed and wrapped my arms around my knees, wincing slightly as my nearly healed shoulder protested against the movement.

Emiliana. The woman thought that I was Emiliana...whoever she was. Of course, the woman's eyes didn't appear to be entirely focused on me anyway so she could have mistaken anyone for this Emiliana. And Lucia. Lucia must know both the woman and Emiliana. Maybe the three were friends or sisters or something. But nothing explained why the woman's face was in a weird sort of puddle.

A thought suddenly struck me and I jumped out of bed, making my way to the door. Snape had told me that I had been sleepwalking last night. I had never done that in my life...as far as I knew. I never remembered dreams...except this one. And if Snape hadn't caught me I might have caught that puddle. And I still may find that puddle...

This is ludicrous! a voice in my head said. It was only a dream, stupid. And so it might have been, but I had to make sure.

I opened the door softly, suddenly paranoid that Snape might still be in the wing. I couldn't hear a thing, but then the way that man moved you generally wouldn't hear a thing anyway. Taking my chances I stepped out into the corridor and padded to his door. I put my ear close to it. Nothing. I took a few more steps further away from my room and suddenly realised that I didn't know the way to the landing where Snape had found me last night. All I remembered was a lot of long corridors like the one I was currently standing in.

I wondered down several corridors, sometimes coming back and taking different turns. It must have been over a half hour later when I finally recognised the landing I had been standing on last night.

The triumph I felt at having found it disappeared almost as quickly as it had come when I realised I had no idea what to do now. It was here that Snape had woken me by grabbing my wrists. I was pretty sure the last glimpse I had seen of the puddle was directly in front of me. The long stretch or corridor in front of me was in complete darkness. Of course I could have no reason to expect it to be lit as it was probable no one used that part of the wing.

I took a step forward, and then two steps back. I was no bloody Gryffindor. That corridor was dark and could have traces of any sort of dark magic to go with it. And I didn't have my wand with me.

But I wanted to find this woman. Screwing up my courage, I moved slowly into the darkness, sliding my hand along the wall as I went. I passed many doors, trying the handle of each one. All were locked and I wasn't really surprised. I bet Dumbledore knew what was behind each and every door. It was now so dark that I was completely reliant on sliding my hand along the wall to guide me. The corridor started to slope downwards.

My hand on the wall suddenly slid over something sharp and I gasped as a deep slit was made in my left hand.

"Who is there?" a voice boomed a few feet ahead of me. "Zeta is that you? Honestly, you are no good in the dark...the portraits down here are no good for you...old Ralph the Rejected keeps complaining about you bumping into him. If you want to visit, I'll come to you. Now be a good lass and go back to your portrait where the light is."

I stood there, quite frozen. I didn't know if I was more shocked by my bleeding hand or the low male voice that had startled me out of my wits.

"Now really Zeta! At least answer me. I don't quite know what you're about these days..."

I moved forward towards the voice, quite certain the voice belonged to a man in a portrait. I still couldn't see a thing, but it served as my benefit that the man wouldn't be able to see me either.

"It is not Zeta," I said. "I am a visitor, looking for someone."

There was silence. I presumed I had startled the man. After a moment, he spoke quite excitedly.

"A visitor? A witch down in this part of the castle? That is, I presume you are a witch. Blimey!"

"Er...you don't get witches or wizards down here often then?" I asked.

"I haven't seen any form of life down here in over ten years, my dear. There is nothing down here that draws anyone closer."

"Oh." I felt bitterly disappointed. It seemed my trek down into the darkness had only earned me a cut hand and a chat with a portrait.

The man seemed to sense my disappointment. "Who were you looking for lassie?"

"A woman," I said. "I don't know her name but she knows someone called Emiliana. I would really like to find her."

There was silence again. I supposed the man was thinking. At length, he spoke.

"Well, like I said, there is no one down here that I have seen. But Emiliana does ring a bell."

"You know her?" I said quickly. I knew it wasn't only a dream.

"Well...not very well. I was only briefly acquainted with her. Now what was her other name? ...ah yes, Emiliana McGonagall."

"Mc Gonagall?" I repeated. That was unexpected.

"Yes. Miss McGonagall and I met when she came down here to drop something off. Actually, it was the first and last time I ever saw her. Very pleasant woman."

"When was that?" Finally, information was coming out...

"Oh, over ten years ago. I've quite lost most of my sense of time, you see. But she was the last person to ever come down here. I must say it is nice to have a real person to talk to now. What did you say your name was?"

"I didn't," I said quickly. "What was Emiliana dropping off?"

"Oh I don't know. It is very dark down here...that is precisely why I told Zeta to go back to her portrait. But does she ever listen to me?"

As the man started rambling about the impertinence of Zeta, I decided I had better get back to my room. I had lost track of the time too and I wanted to be back before Snape returned. I thought my hand was also bleeding all over the floor.

I said a hurried goodbye to the man and made my way back up the corridor, being more careful with my hand on the wall. When I finally reached the lighter passages and started to make my way back to my bedroom, I made a point of remembering certain turns and pictures on walls so I would remember the way next time.

I smiled to myself. Of course there would be a next time. But I wanted to have my wand with me next time so I could light up the passage and perhaps see the man in the portrait. Most importantly, I wanted to search for whatever Emiliana had dropped off. If no one had been down there since, surely whatever it was, was still there.

I reached my bedroom and heaved a sigh of relief that there was still silence coming from the surrounding rooms. Snape wasn't back yet.

I found some plasters Snape had left in my room from when he had been healing my fingers and I put them over the cut on my hand in an attempt to stop the bleeding. I opened my Charms book and tried to read. I could see the words but the man from the portrait and what he said kept buzzing in my head. I would go again tomorrow as soon as Snape left.

"You know, it is a waste of my precious time to bring you food if you are not going to bother yourself to eat it, Miss Kemp."

I looked up. Snape was standing in the doorway holding another tray with a steaming bowl. He looked pointedly at my untouched breakfast and then at me.

"Are you so very engrossed in your studies that you do not allow yourself the luxury of eating time?"

"No."

"Indeed. Let it be understood Miss Kemp, that while you are under my care, you will eat every meal I bring you, whether it suits your tastes or not."

"Yes, sir," I said. God, was he in a bad mood. I guessed he had just had a class with Potter and Longbottom.

Snape made the breakfast tray vanish and then set the lunch tray down where it had been.

"Eat," he ordered. As he left the room, I picked up my spoon and started eating. I still wasn't really hungry, but I wouldn't have put it past Snape to force-feed.

I wasn't even half way through my meal when Snape returned carrying a stack of parchment. He dropped some down on my bed.

"Your day's work," he said simply. He then settled himself in a chair and proceeded to mark essays, making a lot of use of his red ink. I watched him for a moment. He usually stayed away in his own room. I supposed he wanted to make sure I would eat all my lunch. I suddenly felt like I was five. He must have felt my gaze because all of a sudden our eyes met. I quickly looked down at my soup, silently willing him into believing I had never looked at him at all.

"Miss Kemp?"

Damn it. I raised my head and once again met his gaze. "Yes, sir?"

"What did you do to your hand?" He said the words slowly, yet his tone sounded deadly.

"Cut it," I replied, looking away.

"Excuse me?"

"I cut it, sir."

"Evidently. How did you cut it?" His tone was now dripping with venom.

Think quickly. Think quickly. Saying I cut it on a sharp object on a wall in a dark corridor when I was supposed to be in my room was not a good story.

"I slipped in the bathroom, sir." I did not meet his gaze.

Snape put his quill down and leant back in his chair. I could feel him watching me closely. I prayed I would not slip up in my excuse.

"What did you slip on?"

"A puddle of water."

"A puddle? Indeed." He raised an eyebrow. "How very...ironic."

I stayed silent. I could have slipped on a puddle, how would he know?

"And what did you cut it on when you slipped?"

"The corner of a tile...at the edge of the bath." Yeah, that sounded plausible enough. After all, I had done that at home once.

His dark eyes were boring into mine. I looked away.

"I see," he said finally. "Well, Miss Kemp, it seems to me that you should be more careful around puddles. You seem to find yourself in trouble whenever you are near them."

I glared at him, only to find him smirking back at me. He looked far from pleased, though.

He stood up when I had finished my lunch and made me show him my hand. He peeled off the plasters and examined the cut.

"A deep cut, I must say. That tile must be deemed a hazard to you, Miss Kemp."

He summoned a potion from his room and put a few drops of it on my cut. Like the first time Snape had healed my hand, ages and ages ago from when I had detention with Umbridge, I felt a sharp pain when the potion touched my skin. I guess Snape thought that was punishment enough because he said no more about the cut after he covered it. He went back to marking essays and I picked up my school work, forcing myself to concentrate on it.

And it went on like that until Snape left for his afternoon classes.