I'll Stand Alone

Part 3: Walking in the Forest of Memories
-No one can touch me, not even far away prowlers in the night.
You many never know the real criminals.-

Lilika was in the middle of brushing her teeth when the Grey Lady faded in behind her and quietly said: "I think you should know Professor Snape was in your room last night."

Upon hearing this little announcement, Lilika choked on her brush, then spat toothpaste all over the mirror.

"He WAS?" she gasped, steadying herself on the rim of the sink as the mirror went into a fit. "Wonderful!"

"Clean me off! This is disgusting!" the mirror screamed. Lilika hastily grabbed a tissue and began to wipe the irate mirror off, shaking with suppressed laughter.

The Grey Lady looked completely shocked. "Why are you laughing? Don't you even care that he was invading the privacy of your bedroom? Him, an unmarried and a certainly unwelcome man invading a young woman's private room...it's unheard of! Indecent! Immoral! He was touching you!"

"Was he now," Lilika said, suddenly feeling thoughtful. "Where exactly did this touching occur?"

"Your upper arm. Right about here," the Grey said, pointing a pale grey finger at Lilika's left arm while Lilika's smile continued to grow until it stretched nearly the length of her face. "Are you sure it was my left?"

"Quite." Lilika snickered, feeling the calm and rosy glow of satisfaction that came from a job well done. "He fell for it! He bloody fell for it! Oh, Snape you may be brilliant, but you're just told almost everything about you that I need to know! Well...almost everything."

"I don't quite understand. He fell for what?" the Grey asked, her face scrunched into a delicate frown.

Lilika waved her off. "It's honestly not that important in a world-shaking sense, ma'am. Though, I do have a question for you."

"Go on."

"Who's the best source of information in Hogwarts?"

"What kind of information are you looking for? That is a rather broad question."

Lilika shrugged. She left the bathroom and moved over to the bed to pull on her stockings and find her shoes. "Gossip-type information, maybe." She snapped the buckle of her right shoe into place. "Someone who knows the dirt on Professor Snape."

The Grey Lady looked warily at her, one eyebrow raised in polite disapproval. "You're not trying to get him in trouble, are you? He was certainly in the wrong for sneaking into your room, and deserves punishment, but this...dirt you ask for sounds like you're trying to find something sordid. Professor Dumbledore does think quite highly of him, you know. I wouldn't try and start trouble just for personal satisfaction."

"My lady, I'm not trying to get Snape into trouble," Lilika said, feeling just a tiny bit exasperated. She wasn't that petty. Well, only when someone really pissed her off. He had started it. "It's important. I might need this information. It could have," she hesitated, "a bearing on my personal history."

"I see," the Grey Lady said after a long, quiet moment. "Then I shall take you to see the Fat Friar."

"Thank you so much," Lilika replied, smiling. "Can it wait for a moment? I'd like to write a short letter." The Grey Lady smiled slightly in return.

"Think nothing of it. After all," Her pale, silvery eyes flicked skywards. "I have all the time in the world."

Lilika grabbed a spare quill and a good piece of parchment and settled down at her desk.

Dear Aunt Charlotte,

How are you? It's been a while since I've heard from you, but that's probably more my fault then yours. After all, I didn't tell you I was moving. Plus, I forgot to thank you for the lovely dress. Unfortunately it's no longer in my possession, as a bear ate it off the line one day. It was still nice though.

I'm sorry I can't tell you where I am now, but I think it's the best place. I feel safe here and hopefully I will be.

Auntie, I have to ask even though I know you hate bringing up the past: Did you ever hear of someone named Severus Snape mentioned around the house? He's...around where I'm currently residing and he is, to be blunt, an asshole. Hated me from the moment he laid eyes on me. Anyway, I need to know anything you might know about him. I tested him yesterday and the reaction proved positive. I'm just going to confirm my suspicions.

Please write soon! Much love to Uncle Jean.

Love

Lili

She folded up the parchment and tucked it into an envelope, neatly lettering it:

Madame Charlotte du Jardin
17892 Rue de Baton
Felice France

"Ahhh," the Grey Lady said from over Lilika's shoulder. "Your aunt is French?"

"No. Just moved there." Lilika pulled her shawl around her shoulders, fumbling with the clasp as she tried to pull the fabric tight around her. "I'll go up to the Owlery, then we can find the Friar."

Finding the Fat Friar proved a little difficult, but after asking directions from at least seven different ghosts and three Prefects, they learned he was down by the kitchens.

Lilika had stopped counting the passageways to the kitchen, as one looked the same as the other-twisting and poorly lit with bare grey walls. Following the Grey Lady also left her rather breathless, as the Lady swooped and dipped and occasionally went through walls without remembering her change was mortal and unable to follow without getting a face full of blood.

"Ah, at last. Fat Friar! The Dark Arts Professor would have a word with you, if it is convenient."

The Fat Friar looked up from where he was seated and beamed, his broad face stretching even wider. He looked almost entirely round from where Lilika was standing. Standing beside him was a thin, distinguished looking ghost with a large collar.

"Of course! For you, my dear Lady, it is always convenient," the Friar said, smiling as he bowed over the Grey Lady's hand. The Grey Lady lifted an eyebrow, but Lilika caught her hiding a smile behind an upraised hand. The Friar then turned to her.

"It's nice to meet you, my dear! I've been wanting to get acquainted with you ever since you ever since you arrived, but alas, I haven't had the time," the Friar said, then chuckled. "It's nice to have such a young lady around the castle for once...not to disdain the other teachers, but they are a bit on in years, very little fresh blood..."

"Friar," the other ghost said in what sounded like a warning tone. He bowed to Lilika. "Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, Gryfffindor's ghost, at your service." She bowed back and Sir Nicholas looked pleased. "You're really supposed to curtsey though, but it's nice enough."

"Now, whatever did you want to have a word about, Professor?" the Fat Friar asked, offering her the chair he had been previously hovering over. Lilika took it.

"What can you tell me about Professor Snape?"

The Fat Friar rolled his eyes. "Oh, him. Lemony fellow, isn't he? Brilliant, brilliant, no doubt about that. Young too, to be both one of the greatest Potions Masters and head of Slytherin House. But a more unlikable fellow I've rarely seen."

"Young?" Lilika asked, feeling both eyebrows go up. This was interesting. She leaned forward. "How young exactly?"

"Oh, he's miles behind the other teachers in terms of age," Sir Nicholas said casually. "He'll be thirty-six this coming year, I believe."

"Thirty-six?" Lilika asked, disbelief creeping into her voice. Her hands clenched on the arms of the chair. "The bastard went on about how young I was and there's only a lousy eight year age difference? He's not exactly growing moss is he?" She sighed, feeling a little discouraged. It seemed like Snape had been trying to seize on any reason present to keep her out of Hogwarts. Maybe he had something against short, pale, brilliant girls with black hair. "Yet another reason to make his life a living hell."

"Calm down," Sir Nicholas said, and plucked at her sleeve, causing her to shiver violently as his icy fingers brushed her arm. His touch left a small cold spot. "Sorry about that. But you can see Snape's not exactly a hot topic around here. The Friar puts up with Peeves, but can't even say much good about Snape-see what kind of fellow he is? Though I'm sure you already know, since you're threatening him with damnation already."

Lilika frowned, feeling a little overwhelmed at all the things she still had no idea about. She hated being left out of things; there was nothing she despised more in the world then looking foolish in front of other people. "Who's Peeves? Another one of the ghosts?"

The jaws of all three ghosts dropped almost simultaneously.

"You mean you don't know? I would have thought Peeves would have gotten you right at the start-you being the new teacher and all..."

"Incredible. I simply can't believe Peeves would waste such a golden opportunity. He is a poltergeist, my dear Professor and a most vexing one."

"I don't like this. For Peeves to ignore fresh meat like this-beg pardon, Professor-either he's losing his touch..."

"Which I very much doubt."

"Or he's planning something even worse then usual."

All three nodded, apparently in perfect agreement. and looked very grim. Even their colour seemed to have gone darker, from misty silver to a stormy, unpleasant grey. It made Lilika think of too-thick pea soup.

"None of us can control him, you see," Sir Nicholas explained. "Only the Bloody Baron. Except you have to practically wait years to get one word out of the Baron." He ran a thin white hand over his face, sighing. "I honestly don't like this. Peeves delights in being the rudest and annoying creature in Hogwarts, and I've simply lost count at the number of times we've tried to get him thrown out, but Dumbledore is almost too forgiving at times."

"Snape's almost the same case," the Friar rumbled and Lilika jerked back to attention, glad they'd finally gotten back to her topic, as her question was still unanswered.

"What I really wanted to know about Snape..." She paused, and then plunged on. "Was he or was he not a Death Eater at some point?"

The Friar nodded, his round cheerful face grim. "Aye. So you've heard. I don't believe it's wrong for you to know, as it's an open secret among the staff, but he was. Many years ago. Don't be worrying he's a threat to you-he gave that up long ago. Turned completely. Dumbledore trusts him and what Dumbledore trusts is good enough for me to trust."

"I'm not afraid of him, but he seems to have taken a violent dislike to me," Lilika said, feeling sour. "Thank you. This confirms what I need to know."

The Fat Friar and Sir Nicholas both turned to look at her. "You're not planning trouble, are you?" they asked, almost in unison.

"No!" Lilika snapped, feeling her temper rise again, and tried to bring it back down by thinking of ice cream and Antartica. Why did everyone look and her and automatically think 'evil'?

"I merely wanted to know because I have...issues with Death Eaters. As in I don't like them and I find it more then a little insulting that a former Death Eater thinks I'm evil and a threat to life and society and whatever for absolutely no reason other then being me. Snape is carrying himself with a rather high hand."

The Grey Lady looked stern. "Professor Snape has indeed been going too far. I won't give you the particulars, but he seems to think Professor Jardin is a threat to Hogwarts for no reason that I can see. He's becoming almost paranoid."

"Well, the Dark Arts professors have been rotters, almost all of them," Sir Nicholas said thoughtfully. "He actually does have a reason to be concerned..."

"ARGGGGGH!!" She couldn't hold it in any longer. "I AM NOT EVIL!"

Everyone jumped and Sir Nicholas held out his transparent hands in a gesture of peace, backing away slowly. "I didn't mean any insult my dear girl, of course you're not like those others!"

"Enough," the Grey Lady said calmly. "If you have no further questions Miss Jardin, I suggest we end this interview. There's a small army of new arrivals coming in this afternoon and myself and the other ghosts must tend to them."

Lilika blinked. "New arrivals?" She couldn't possibly mean more students...could she?

"New ghosts," the Grey Lady replied. "The Headmaster very generously lets stray ghosts live at Hogwarts." She sighed, her pale face becoming even longer with melancholy. "Poor things. Most of them come here because the place they were haunting was demolished, or they were forced out by unsympathetic mortals. Some come simply because they are lonely."

"...I see," Lilika said. Hogwarts really is a refuge for everything.

"Until we see each other again," the Grey Lady said and she, the Friar and Sir Nicholas promptly winked out, leaving Lilika to find her way back alone through the twisted corridors.

Overheard in the hallway:

"Can you believe that new Dark Arts professor, Harry? I thought maybe a lady would be normal, but they get weirder every year. Next year they'll just send us someone straight from St. Mungo's. Or a flesh-eating zombie."

"I didn't think she was all bad. Just...intense."

"Intense? Just intense? When she talked about eating You-Know-Who? I reckon that's enough proof she's a complete loony. Hey, Hermione. Do snakes really taste like chicken?"

"Ron, don't be stupid! How would I know?"

"You're the know-it-all of Gryffindor Tower, aren't you? I thought you might have come across it or something in one of the million books you've read in the last three days."

"We're going to be late for Charms! We don't have time for this!"

They left at a run, robes flapping behind them.

She sighed and turned back to the tapestries she was rearranging for the new arrivals.

"Home sweet home," Lilika said.

The tiny cabin that she had lived in before coming to Hogwarts looked resentful and neglected, but she couldn't help that. After the attack, it was no longer a haven, just a reminder that she'd never really be safe. Maybe when I'm dead.

She'd returned on the weekend to gather some more of her things and get a few ingredients she needed for her creation. She'd fled so quickly to Hogwarts that she'd only had time to pack one trunk and had a devil of a time flying it to the school on her broom. She'd ended up flying lopsided practically the whole time because of the extra weight. It had gotten even more fun when she'd ran into that storm and there was also that flock of ill-tempered geese...

I was in a cold sweat the whole way, hoping Dumbledore would accept me. It's lucky I saw the ad in the Daily Prophet. It's lucky they have such trouble keeping the Dark Arts teachers. It's lucky I know so much about Dark Magic. It's lucky Dumbledore is so kind.

I have too much luck.

She was busy hauling an old truck from her cellar out to the yard. It wasn't actually a yard, just a small clearing in front of her house, and the woods crowded up on all sides beyond it, thick, dark and bristling. This deep in the woods, she'd thought no one would find her. Nobody had, for eleven years.

"Extra trunk, check. Books, check. Spare broom, check. Dress robes, check. Pictures, check. Three jars of vole blood, check. Wine collection, check. Empties for recycling, check. Spare linens, check. That's everything."

Her important papers-birth certificate, deeds to the family houses, deed to her house, address book, were in the pouch at her side. "That just leaves my wand." She'd put it down on the table in the kitchen when she had gone to get the trunk and she turned to go back into the house to get it.

Hate to forget it. Hate even more to lose it. I don't fancy the thought of another meeting with Mr. Ollivander.

Just as she started back to the house, a small, sharp noise like cracking ice came from behind her. Naturally, she turned around.

Several trolls were coming up the pathway towards her, so she did the only sensible thing a wandless witch could do; turn and run like hell. Three steps later, the path was blasted apart in front of her eyes, sending her flying down hard into the dirt. Lilika let out a yelp as she hit the ground, feeling something bend in her ankle.

A short, lazy snicker reached her aching ears and she managed to look up enough to see a hunched figure clinging crookedly to a broom floating a little above her house.

"How did you know?" she screamed. "How DID YOU KNOW?"

"Get her."

The trolls began lumbering up the path before her, swinging their large, thick clubs back and forth like a pendulum. Lilika scrambled ackwardly to her feet, her breath coming short and painfully, and tried once again to make it back to her house.

There was a small whistling sound, and several chunks of Dark Magic began hurtling out of the sky and smashing into the ground before her. Her heart tried in vain to claw it's way out of her chest.

No wand...no wand...I have no choice...I don't want to use that again...

The first troll was going to reach her very soon.

She thrust both hands out, sighed in resignation and tried very hard to do nothing but concentrate. "Enseigne." A pale glow leapt out from her hands and spread around her, shielding her. This was one of her more inspired inventions, born out of long hours of work and sheer necessity. A itchy, throbbing tingle was starting in the center of her hands and she winced. It would be a perfect spell if it weren't for one side effect. Her hands felt like they'd been dipped in fire.

That was the rub.

The Dark Magic splattered harmlessly off the sides of her barrier while she concentrated on not throwing up. Smoke wisped up from her hands. Be strong...be strong... hold it up until the trolls get to it...

It's just like last time. I can't get away.

Lilika could feel the blisters rising on her hands, as the barrier continued to spread slightly until it touched the first troll. It slumped to the ground.

The blood from her burning hands was running down her arms and sparkles danced in front of her vision. The acrid smell of burned flesh was rising around her, trapped inside the barrier and she gagged, her throat feeling like a giant's hand was squeezing it.

Two more trolls to go.

Lilika nearly bit off her lip from the pain. I'm not going to be able to use my hands for days.

The last troll collapsed and Lilika managed to stand for a few more seconds before falling with it. Her hands were blackened, ruined and covered in blood. A few tears slid down her face, trickling off the end of her nose. The salt made her eyes burn.

"Thank you. I wanted to make sure the last time wasn't a fluke. The Master will be pleased with me." The voice was hoarse and distorted, as if it had been forced into sounding much differently then usual. "You're very interesting."

She managed to look up. The figure snickered once more and vanished with the same popping sound the trolls had used to appear.

"You're welcome," Lilika whispered, feeling the grit from the ground pushing painfully into her cheek. She closed her eyes, felt the bitter taste of blood sliding over her tongue, and quietly passed out.

She fumbled with her spoon, trying to get a good grip on it. It was so hard with your hands swathed in bandages.

Lilika dropped her spoon, giving up, and it fell with a clatter to the table. She pushed her chair back and sat with her hands folded in her lap, trying very hard to ignore the other teachers' stares. She could feel her face heating up and turning red.

There was a difference in being the center of attention for weakness.

McGonagall was looking at her, eyebrows raised. "Not hungry?" she asked, forcing Lilika to turn her head and pay attention.

"No," she almost whispered. Her sleeves weren't long enough to completely hide her hands and the bandaged tips were clearly visible. Lilika heard a sudden, sharp intake of air and knew McGonagall had seen.

"My lord child, what happened to your hands?" McGonagall was suddenly in front of her, trying to pull her hands into view and Lilika gave up the battle, letting the older woman see, letting the whole table see. Probably the whole damned Hall could see too. She looked around, not wanting to meet anyone's eyes as most of the teachers flocked over to her fussing, and wondered where Dumbledore was.

She didn't need this attention.

Alone of all the teachers, Snape had not moved from his place at the table. His narrow black eyes were flickering back and forth rapidly, clearly trying to stare at her hands without anybody noticing. A dark and thoughtful frown crossed his face.

"It's nothing, Professor McGonagall. Nothing at all," she said wearily.