Hunted

Chapter 10: Ransacked

The motorcycle engine sputtered, coughed, and then fell silent as it stalled out completely. The flying machine hovered in midair for a fraction of a second that seemed to last an eternity. Paul Hawkins uttered a stream of curses, while frantically jabbing at the controls and cranking the throttle. Angela, who was seated behind him on the enchanted motorcycle, gasped. Her eyes flew open wide, flicking from the controls to the meadow far below, the likely location of their crash landing. She emitted an ear-splitting shriek of terror, believing that her worst nightmare was about to come true.

The motorcycle pitched forward, heading directly for the ground. Paul's fingers stabbed at the yellow flight button. He yanked on the handlebars with all the brute strength his burly arms could mutter, but could not get the machine to level off. The vehicle and its occupants accelerated in a free fall.

Angela glanced at the ground rising to meet them and then squeezed her eyes shut. The wind howled as it rushed past her ears. She felt her stomach rising to her throat, choking off her screams. Her prayers of deliverance rose, as her body plummeted earthward. The fall seemed interminable.

Then shouts filled her ears, an unintelligible blending of different voices, all yelling at once. Among them, she heard her husband's voice and her dead father's. The inside of her eyelids flashed with red light. And she felt a jolt that nearly broke her hold on her brother. The motorcycle righted itself. Its descent slowed.

Her eyes fluttered open and stared in amazement. Angela, Paul, and the motorcycle were encased in what appeared to be an enormous soap bubble. The glycerin orb floated in the breeze, gently lowering them to the ground. Angela breathed a sigh of relief.

She stared out of the transparent sphere. Her eyes lighted on Remus, a tortured expression on his face, as he whisked in close on his broomstick. His wand was clutched in his right hand, still aimed at her. She cast him a grateful smile and whispered a word of thanks. Then her gaze swept over the concerned and shocked faces of Moody, Tonks, and the Weasleys, all circling the perimeter of the orb on brooms with their wands pointed in her direction.

The soap bubble touched down in the middle of a meadow, not far from the Lupin cottage in Beecher's Knoll. It burst with a delicate pop! The motorcycle dropped the last meter, bounced once, and rolled forward to a lazy stop.

Angel leapt from the seat. She couldn't wait to get off of that infernal machine. Her frozen legs gave way and she crumbled into the weeds. She sat on the ground, her heart still pounding in her chest. But she was relieved to be alive and back on terra firma.

Remus landed nearby. As soon as his feet hit the dirt, he tossed his broomstick aside and ran to her. He knelt by her side and pulled her body to him. His face was ashen and riddled with concern.

Angela melted into his arms. Pressed against his chest, she noticed that he was damp and shivering. His threadbare cloak was not sufficient to protect him from the freezing night air during the flight.

"You're so cold." Her stiff fingers fumbled to rearrange his cloak more tightly around his frame.

"Don't concern yourself about me," he said, searching her eyes. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, thanks to you." Angela shot him a wan look. "But you will never ever get me to fly again." She stared from Remus to her brother, shaking her head. "Not a broom. Not a motorcycle. Or anything else."

"Well, it was fine except for that last bit." Paul dismounted from the motor bike, looking more than a little shaken himself. He leaned on the machine for support. "For a moment, I thought that was the end." He hesitated, still breathing hard. "I could have sworn I saw Dad."

"Me too," Angela replied, flashing him a sympathetic look.

"Thanks, mate." Paul held out a chilled hand to Remus. "I owe you."

"Think nothing of it," Remus replied, rising.

Remus helped Angela to her feet. Paul turned to survey the motorcycle by the light of his wand and checked for damage. By now, the rest of the convoy had touched down as well. They shook out their stiff limbs and blew into their frozen fingers.

"What do we do now?" Paul asked. "I'm sure that I could get this beast running again, but not without petrol or light or the proper tools."

"Our cottage is just a short walk down that road." Remus motioned to a rutted country lane about ten meters away. "The motorcycle will be safe there. And we could get warmed up a bit before continuing to headquarters."

"Sounds like a brilliant idea to me," rejoined Tonks, rubbing her hands together to warm them.

"Right then," Remus said, "if all the gents push the motorcycle, we should make it. Angela and the ladies can lead the way."

A crescent moon hung low in the evening sky, casting soft shadows over the country lane. A few stars peeked between the wispy clouds that dotted the heavens. The Lupin cottage and adjoining Den were shrouded in darkness, sheltered in the shadows of the forest rising behind it.

Angela's hand pushed against the small wooden gate that marked the entrance to their property. She held the gate open. Amid grunts and shouted words of instruction, the men maneuvered the heavy motorcycle over the uneven ground into the yard. Tonks and Molly walked beside them, illuminating the path with lit wands. Angela noticed that something was not quite right.

Her eyes stared at the bare branches of her favorite rose bushes. They looked bent and broken in the dappled shadows. Was it just a trick of the moonlight? Her gaze strayed to the door of the cottage. That too looked strangely skewed, as if the door was standing ajar. But that couldn't be. They would not leave the house with the door open.

Her hand released the gate. The door swung shut on spring-loaded hinges. Angela's feet walked the gravel path to the cottage, her wand held in front of her and her eyes fixed on the front door. When she reached the front stoop, she gasped. The door to the cottage hung open, suspended from a single hinge.

Angela sprang to the door and squeezed herself through the opening. Once inside, she raised her wand and uttered an incantation. The lights in the house flickered on, illuminating the destruction within. She stood dumbstruck just inside the threshold, surveying the damage to her abode.

The once neat and orderly kitchen was a shambles. Every cupboard door hung open, the contents strewn about the room. Flour, sugar, and herbs mingled with bits of broken pottery and bent cutlery. A dented cauldron rested on the floor. Chairs were smashed, their woven rush seats torn from the wooden frames. Fragments of glass littered the stone floor and sparkled in the light of the flickering lamps. Jagged shards protruding from the metal frame were all that remained of the large picture window that had overlooked the front of the property.

Angela's eyes stared out that window to see her husband sprinting across the yard. He burst through the door to her side. His face wore the same pale expression of shock and disbelief that she knew must have been on her own.

Angela now looked through the opening of the massive fieldstone fireplace shared by the kitchen and the sitting room. Through the gap, she could see stuffing protruding from the sofa, its cushions slashed open. Bookshelves had been emptied of their contents. Pages lay strewn around the room. The sitting room had been ransacked as well.

Angela gasped and started down the hall toward their bedroom. But Remus grabbed her arm. He cast her a warning glance.

"Let me go first," he whispered, licking his lips that had gone dry.

Remus headed down the hall, carefully picking his way through the debris. Angela followed right on his heels. Both had their wands drawn and walked with cautious steps, unsure of what lay around the next corner.

Remus' hand reached for the knob to the bedroom door. He threw the door open and flattened himself against the wall beside it, waiting for the fall out. After a minute of silence, he peered through the doorway, his wand held at the ready in front of him. His mouth fell open and his arm dropped to his side.

"What is it?" Angela inquired, staring at him with a quizzical look.

Then she peered into the room herself. Her eyes opened wide. Her lip quivered. She just stared, blinking back her tears. The dresser and trunk had been opened and emptied. Shredded clothes blanketed the floor. Bed coverings and pillows had been slashed. Little white feathers covered every level surface. Words, in blood-red lettering, were smeared on the wall just over the bed. Filthy half-bloods, you must die!

A sob escaped Angela's lips. She shook her head in disbelief. Then she spotted their wedding picture, still sitting upright on the nightstand. The glass was cracked in the frame, but miraculously the photograph remained undamaged. With her eyes fixed on the precious keepsake, she entered in the room and wove through the debris to the nightstand. Her hand reached for the photograph. But just as her finger was about to touch it, Remus bounded into the room and grabbed her hand.

"No!" he screamed, holding her back. "It's a trap!"

Angela's gaze whipped from the photograph to his face with a puzzled look. She could see the fear lingering in his blue-grey eyes. Then he turned back to the photograph. He pointed his wand at it with a shaking hand. The minute he touched wand to frame, the photograph vanished.

"A Portkey," he explained, his voice trembling. "If you had touched it, you would have been taken." He swallowed hard. "We've got to get out of here now. We have to warn the others. Come and don't touch anything."

He grabbed her arm and pulled her from the room. They ran back down the hall, stumbling and skidding over the articles in their path. The rest of the party waited on the front porch, peering in at them with shocked expressions. They darted aside, as Angela and Lupin bolted from the house.

"Get out of here now," Remus commanded, panic in his voice. "They know we're here! Everyone to headquarters. Apparate!"

Wands were raised high over head. A round of incantations rang out in the night. And nine bodies disappeared into thin air with a thunderous crack!

* * * * * * * *

Angela lay face down on the chenille bedspread in Remus' old bedroom at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. She sobbed into the pillows, weeping as though her heart would break. Their beautiful cottage in the countryside, everything they owned, was destroyed, and with it, her dreams. And the threat against their lives was more than she could bear. She had no desire for consolation, wanting only to grieve and give vent to her anger.

She heard the latch to the bedroom door click and footsteps approaching the bed. She recognized the tread of her husband's steps, but she didn't look up. He sat on the bed beside her. His hand rested upon her head, his fingers running through the soft tresses with a gentle stroke.

"Angela, please don't," he coaxed in a whisper. "I can't bear to see you cry." He hesitated. "I...brought you some chocolate."

She lifted her head from the pillow and turned to face him. Chestnut curtains of hair obscured her tear-stained face. She stared at him through eyes red from crying.

"It won't help," she sobbed, bursting into tears again. "Nothing will help."

Her head dropped back down onto the pillows, buried in her arms. Her shoulders shook with grief. She felt the warmth of his hand, now rubbing her back.

"Please, Angela," he cajoled.

She could hear the heartache in his voice. She looked up and gazed into his caring face. His blue-gray eyes were tinged with pain.

"Our home," she sobbed. "Our lovely little cottage. Ruined!"

"I know you're upset and rightly so," he pleaded. "But they are only things."

"But what are we going to do?" she asked, tears still trailing down her cheeks. "We have so little money to spare and babies on the way. We can't afford another place. And it will cost money to repair all that damage."

"Dumbledore has asked us to move back here to headquarters." Remus stared at her. He swallowed hard. "It's for the best."

Her eyes popped open wide. "No!" she insisted, shaking her head. "You know how I feel about this gloomy, old place. I can't possibly stay here."

"It's only for a while." He cast her a pleading look. "Dumbledore thinks that the Death Eaters are going after the Order, trying to take us out one at a time. With all the attacks, he wants someone permanently stationed here at headquarters. The rotating schedule isn't working. Mundungus Fletcher doesn't show up half the time."

"Why does it have to be us?" Angela slammed her fist into the pillow. "I want to go back home. I won't let them chase me from my own home."

Remus' expression turned grim. And again that worried look flashed across his face. "But you'll be safer here," he reasoned. "With all the protections that Dumbledore's taken, there's nowhere safer."

"Every time I close my eyes I see that awful threat." Angela shuddered. "And in our bedroom of all places. I can't bear to think..." She broke off, unable to continue.

"Hush now," he whispered, gathering her into his arms. "It's all right. Don't think about that. They were bound to make threats. I don't intend to let anything happen to you."

She sobbed into his shoulder. Tears washed down her face.

"Angela," he whispered, taking her face in his hands and brushing away her tears with his fingers. "Your safety is all that matters. We'll be fine as long as we have each other." He searched her eyes with a hopeful stare. "Then it's settled?"

Angela's head gave a feeble nod. She did not want to stay at Grimmauld Place. But what other choice did she have?

"Tomorrow morning, Mad-Eye and I will go to the cottage," Remus said. "We'll salvage everything we can and close the place up."

"I'm coming with you," Angela insisted, casting him a determined look.

He stared back at her, doubt evident in his eyes. And she knew that he didn't like the idea. But he didn't argue back. "All right," he relented.

Angela threw her arms around him. For several minutes, she just held on to him and drew comfort from the warmth of his embrace. Remus' fingers brushed her hair from her eyes. Then taking her face in his hands, he kissed away her tears, working his way down her cheek. He ended with a tender lingering kiss on her lips. He stared into her eyes, his forehead resting against hers.

"Are you ready to come downstairs now?" he whispered, still cradling her face in his hands. "Molly's making dinner. You should really eat something. And Fred and George are plotting defensive measures for their joke shop and the Burrow. When I left, they were working on motion sensors that squirt Stinksap and something resembling a Bat Bogey Hex involving rubber chickens." His face broke into an amused grin. "Come on," he cajoled.

Angela returned a wan smile. Her head nodded. She placed her hand in his and allowed him to lead her from the room.

* * * * * * * *

Ravena lay on the bed in the Hogwarts hospital wing. Her shoulder seared. Agonizing pain shot across her chest with every breath she took. When were those damned pain killers going to kick in?

Madam Pomfrey was tending to another patient behind a screen. A deep male voice blubbered like a baby, while the Healer worked on him.

"Just hold still," Madam Pomfrey coaxed. "I've almost got it."

Ravena heard the young man sneeze. The Healer uttered an exclamation of surprise. Something small and metallic flew across the hospital ward, ricocheting off of walls, window panes, and light fixtures with a ping, a clink, and a clang. A small metal nub rolled to rest on the stone floor near her bedside.

"We're done, Mr. Crabbe," Madam Pomfrey said. "You may go."

A large meat-hook of a hand brushed the curtain aside. A hulking young man with a sullen expression on his face skulked out of the infirmary. His dark eyebrows were knitted together in an angry scowl.

Ravena turned her head to watch him go. She winced, as another sharp pain traveled the length of her shoulder. Her head sank back down on the pillows.

Madam Pomfrey bustled over, eyeing her with an anxious expression. "Enid's Analgesic Elixir working yet?" she inquired.

"No!" Ravena whispered, with as little movement as possible.

"Hmmm," the Healer mused. "Perhaps I need to up your dose." Her fingers reached for the magenta bottle on the bed stand. She administered another teaspoon of the potion to Ravena. "We'll give that another few minutes to work, then I'll be back to manipulate that shoulder into place."

Madam Pomfrey bustled down the empty ward to her office. Ravena stared up at the ceiling and studied the hairline cracks in the plaster. She gritted her teeth and cursed her bad luck. This was her fourth accident this term, all of them occurring in her N.E.W.T. level class. This new Defense Against the Dark Arts curriculum was certainly taking its toll on her body.

Just then, the door to the infirmary creaked open. She heard footsteps approaching her bedside, but did not dare to move her head for fear of the pain. The pale face of the Potions Master loomed into view.

"Hello, Severus," she whispered. "I suppose you've come here to gloat."

"On the contrary," Snape replied, with a genuinely concerned look. "I heard that you had another little mishap in your class today and have come to check on you."

"Well, if you had come to gloat, you would have every reason." Ravena sighed. "You warned me not to introduce fencing into the curriculum. And I sorely wish now that I'd followed your directive."

"What misfortune happened today, pray tell?" Snape cocked an eyebrow. "Let me guess. Could it perhaps have involved Mr. Longbottom?"

Ravena rolled her eyes. "Actually, Mr. Crabbe was directly responsible for my injuries today," she snapped. "But yes, Mr. Longbottom was involved."

"Of course." Snape's lips curled into a look of scorn. "So what happened?"

Ravena sighed again. But her agony had dissipated a little, as the drug took effect. She glanced up at him with a mournful look.

"Today was our first fencing practice," she explained. "I had placed Mr. Longbottom with Mr. Crabbe, an unfortunate pairing in hindsight. Somehow the button came loose from Mr. Longbottom's foil and end up lodged in Mr. Crabbe's left nostril. How in the devil it got under his mask, I shall never understand."

Snape's eyebrows shot up for a moment then fell back into place. "Yes, one wonders," he said, with an incredulous sneer.

"Well naturally, a fist fight ensued, a real Muggle brawl," Ravena said. "The entire class would have joined in, had I not intervened to break it up. The upshot of the whole affair is that I ended up crushed under Mr. Crabbe's considerable weight. The next thing I know, the three of us are being escorted to the hospital wing: Mr. Crabbe with the button hopelessly jammed up his nose, Mr. Longbottom with a gauntlet attached to his face, and me with a fractured clavicle, a dislocated shoulder, and perhaps a broken rib or two."

"A gauntlet?" Snape cast her a quizzical stare.

"You know, a fencing glove," Ravena retorted.

"I know that," Snape spat. "But how did it end up attached to his face?"

"Don't ask," Ravena rejoined, with a warning look. "I haven't the foggiest idea how that happened."

Snape crossed his arms over his chest. A smug look played on his face. "I trust that you have meted out appropriately severe penalties."

"I have assigned both Masters Crabbe and Longbottom detentions," Ravena replied, with a perfunctory wave. "I have not, however, decided the exact nature of their duties." She arched an eyebrow. "Although I'm sure that you have suggestions for me."

"Naturally," he replied with a look of relish.

"Although you do realize that the final decision is mine," she added, with a sly smirk.

"Naturally." The pleased look vanished from his face.

"It appears that I will be out of commission for at least a week." Ravena glanced toward the door to the Healer's office. "Madam Pomfrey muttered something about broken ribs and punctured lungs and wanting to keep me under surveillance for a while. Would you be so kind as to assume my teaching duties while I am indisposed?"

"I would be delighted." Snape's face broke into a wide grin.

"Thank you," Ravena rejoined, now smiling back at him. "You will find a complete set of lesson plans on my desk in my office."

By now, the Analgesic Elixir was working wonders for Ravena. Not only had her body gone completely numb, but she was feeling delightfully lightheaded and giddy as well. She stared up at the ceiling, remembering the events of earlier that morning. Without warning, she erupted in a fit of giggles.

A worried look flashed across Snape's face. He stared at her with an expression of puzzlement. "What is so amusing?"

She grabbed his arm. She motioned for him to come closer. He obliged, casting a furtive glance toward Madam Pomfrey's office door.

"You should have seen the look on Crabbe's face," she whispered, with a conspiratorial glint in her blue eyes. "It was priceless. And then Longbottom, I have never seen him so determined in all my life. He balled up his fist and landed the most...." She broke off, sniggering. Her hand swiped a tear from her eye. "He landed the most perfect right hook to the side of Crabbe's head. As a teacher, I know that I'm not supposed to take sides, but I've never been prouder in my life." She dissolved into another round of giggles.

"Ravena!" Snape scolded, staring at her with a look of stern disapprobation.

Ravena just looked back at him, blinking. "I'm sorry," she said, trying and failing to match his serious stare. She snorted again. "It must be the elixir. Wonderful stuff. You really must try some."

Snape's brow knitted with a look of concern. "I think I shall fetch Poppy," he said, turning to go.

"Don't leave," Ravena insisted, grabbing his arm once more. She stared up at him, her vision swimming in and out of focus.

He faced her again, his dark eyes boring into hers. That worried look was deeply etched on his forehead. "What?" he inquired.

"Your eyes," she whispered, a dreamy expression on her face. "They are beautiful. Dark and mysterious, like obsidian or maybe onyx. And there's a fire behind them."

"Poppy!" Snape yelled, not removing his gaze from Ravena's face.

The Healer bustled from her office and approached Ravena's bedside. Her eyes swept over the patient with a studied look. "What's going on?"

"Apparently, she's hallucinating," Snape rejoined.

"Well, she's not in any pain," Madam Pomfrey replied. "So let's get that shoulder back into place. Severus, give me a hand please."

Ravena could not feel anything at all. But she watched as Madam Pomfrey and Snape took hold of her useless right shoulder. Seconds later, she heard a sickening pop, as the bone was manipulated back into the socket. She groaned, her head falling back on the pillow. Her eyes closed and she lost consciousness.

* * * * * * * *

A week had passed since the fencing mishap. Outside, a mid-December snowfall had blanketed the Hogwarts grounds in a coating of glistening white. A few lingering flakes whirled in the air. A chill wind whistled through the frosted panes of the mullioned windows in the staff room. Inside, a cozy fire burned in the fireplace.

Ravena entered the room, her eyes coming to rest on the lone occupant. Severus Snape sat in the overstuffed chair closest the fire, reading the evening edition of the Daily Prophet. A smile of delight formed on Ravena's lips. She sauntered across the thick carpet and settled herself into an upholstered chair nearest the Potions Master. Ravena coughed. Snape peered over the top of his paper at her with a curious stare. His lip curled into a smirk.

"Ravena!" Snape said, cocking an eyebrow. "So Poppy saw fit to release you?"

"Yes, she pronounced me cured," Ravena replied, "although my shoulder is still a bit stiff." She shrugged her shoulder and it emitted a disarming crack.

Snape's head jerked to stare with a dubious look. "Perhaps you should return to the hospital wing?"

"I'll be fine," she replied. "But this does put a crimp in my lesson plans for the semester." She cast him a hopeful glance. "Perhaps you would be willing to assist me with the fencing lessons?"

Snape threw his head back and laughed. "Do you take me for a fool? I have no desire to witness further calamities, thank you."

"Well then," Ravena sniffed, with a disappointed look. "I will just have to hire an assistant. Perhaps I can make arrangements over the Christmas holidays."

"Perhaps that would be best." Snape reclined in his chair with disinterest.

"And Severus." Ravena edged forward in her seat and cast him an inviting smile. "I did want to thank you for the lovely flowers that you sent. I was unaware that wizard Amaryllis actually trumpet. They are quite enchanting."

"You are welcome," Snape replied, with a self-satisfied smile.

Ravena sidled over and perched herself on the arm of his chair. She had intended to settle herself into his lap, when the door to the staff room clicked open. Startled, Ravena jumped to her feet. Her head whipped around to face the newcomer. Her shoulder popped again. She winced, as a bolt of pain traveled down her arm.

Minerva McGonagall strode into the room with her usual stern expression on her face. Ravena struck a casual pose. Her hand massaged her sore shoulder.

"Good evening, Minerva," Ravena greeted.

McGonagall acknowledged them both. She took a seat on the other side of the room and opened a book. With her square spectacles balanced on the end of her nose, she poured over the text. Snape leaned back in his chair and snapped the newspaper open. He held it up, returning his attention to the news. Ravena eyed the front page.

The face of General Spartacus Cornwall stared out of the paper at her under a headline that read "GENERAL SCORES A COUP." The general's bushy mustache bristled, as he smiled out of the paper. His chest was puffed out to show off the many medals decorating the front of his uniform. A new medal, emblazoned with the words Minister of Magic, was conspicuously added to the lot.

"So Cornwall won after all," Ravena commented. "I heard that it was a very close election. Cornwall vs. Malfoy right down to the wire."

"Yes," Snape confirmed, with a slight nod, not looking up from the paper.

"So how is Lucius taking the defeat?" Ravena inquired.

"I would not know." Snape lowered the newspaper, now glaring at her over the top. "I have not seen him for months."

"Mother is livid," Ravena remarked. "She backed her precious cousin to the very end. Throwing parties. Hosting fundraisers. When the official results were announced, she flew into a rage. She alleged foul play, ballot tampering, voter fraud, and the like." Ravena smirked. "Imagine Lucius accusing someone else of foul play."

"And how do you know this?" Snape inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"I just got an earful," Ravena answered, scowling. "Mother sent a howler to me in the infirmary of all places. As if I had anything to do with it."

The door to the staff room flew open a second time. Haight Ashbury strode into the room. A peace medallion dangled from a chain on his neck and two buxom beauties hung on his arms. His round red face wore the broadest of grins.

Ravena's eyes raked down the two women's bodies from their bleached-blonde hair and perfectly tanned faces to their white go-go boots. They wore scarlet miniskirts trimmed with faux fur and matching bustier tops. Ravena stared with instant dislike.

"Hallooooo," Ashbury chimed. "Just wanted to introduce the newest members of my crew. These are my new teaching assistants Candi and Barbi. Identical twins." He danced his eyebrows.

"Obviously," Ravena sneered.

"Ah," Ashbury replied, gesturing to Ravena. "Girls, this is Ravena Hawkins. She teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts."

The twins giggled, vacuous smiles on their flawless faces. Their fingers wigged a greeting. Ravena rolled her eyes.

"Charmed," Ravena replied in a tone that betrayed her contempt.

"And this is Minerva McGonagall," Ashbury said.

McGonagall responded with a terse greeting and a cold disapproving stare. The elder professor's lips were drawn so thin that Ravena knew she had an ally. A smug smile appeared on Ravena's lips.

"And this, ladies, is Severus Snape," Ashbury remarked. "He's the Potions Master. You'll be seeing a lot of him. His office is right across the hall from mine."

Snape, who had risen to his feet when they entered, nodded his head in greeting.

"Hi!" the ladies cooed, waving. They looked at each other and tittered, that silly girlish laughter.

Ravena gritted her teeth and rolled her eyes once more. Then her gaze settled on the Potions Master with a dubious stare. What was that look on his face? Where was the mocking glare that she expected to see? Ravena insides churned.

"Well, off we go to meet the other professors," Ashbury said. "Come along ladies." Ashbury turned back toward the door, ushering the women out before him. "See you later," he added, closing the door to the staff room in his wake.

"Where did Ashbury find those two?" Ravena fumed. "Working as elves for some department store Father Christmas, no doubt. Perhaps that job was too taxing for them."

"What's the matter, Ravena?" Snape sneered. "Can't handle a little competition?"

"Competition?" Ravena scoffed. "They aren't even in my league. And don't tell me that you approve of those dime-store floosies wandering about the school half-dressed?"

Snape cocked an eyebrow. His dark eyes bored into hers, studying her face with a calculating look. "Interesting," he remarked, smirking. "Is that jealousy I detect?"

"Don't be absurd," Ravena said with a scornful little laugh.

"Then one wonders," Snape replied, stroking his chin, "why the catty remarks?"

Ravena's eyes narrowed. She gave her head an angry toss, causing her shoulder to crack again. "On second thought, I think I will return to the infirmary," Ravena huffed, rubbing her shoulder and frowning. "I could use another dose of Enid's Analgesic Elixir."