Unfurling of a Rose

Chapter 5

Who are you?

What kind of a question is that? If I knew who you were, I wouldn't be asking. What are you doing here? Why are you in my head?

Get out of my head.

Get out of my head!

Get out get out get out get out...

~888~

Corielle sat up in bed, shaking like a mouse. She could not remember her dream, but her head hurt terribly. Grabbing her dressing gown, she tiptoed down the spiral staircase from the girls' dormitories to the common room. There was no one about, and Corielle was glad. She liked her privacy, and she had not had enough of it, suspected that she would not have enough of it at Hogwarts. Maybe I ought to ask Filch, Corielle thought absentmindedly, remembering Marcie's less-than-flattering description of the cantankerous caretaker. He should know a good empty classroom I could use as my own.

The fire in the hearth was still burning, and Corielle moved toward it longingly. Fireplaces had always been her haunts. Fires were strange and mysterious to her, and yet they were still a source of comfort. They were always changing; a flame never appeared twice. Their inconsistency soothed her.

A brush of cold air swept across the sleeve of the dressing gown which flowed over her forearm. Corielle turned quickly, flinching at the unexpected sight that met her eyes.

The Bloody Baron was approaching her silently.

Corielle had seen him in the corridors between class, and Marcie and Vic had explained together that he was the supreme ghostly authority at Hogwarts. While unfamiliar with ghosts, Corielle was not afraid of them- they could not do much to hurt her- even when they looked as ghastly as this one did. She knew he was rather stoic and closemouthed, so she did not directly welcome him, only nodded and turned back to the fire. The ghost settled beside her, floating in a sitting position, the blood stains on his majestic tunic shimmering in the firelight.

"It's past curfew," the Bloody Baron announced in a baritone that was much like Snape's, his mouth barely moving.

"I had a nightmare, I think," Corielle replied in way of answering the unspoken question. "And it was too quiet in the dormitory. At least the fire makes noise."

"You are afraid?"

"I'm afraid of everything."

The Bloody Baron turned to face her, his normally blank face registering detached surprise. His blood-stained clothes glistened as he moved. "You cannot afford fear."

Looking back at the fire, the Baron continued, giving the longest raspy speech anyone would ever hear him say. "I know what goes on in my House. I know what goes on within the grounds of Hogwarts. I see things that sometimes even Dumbledore does not see. I keep myself out of most of what takes place, such as the affairs of the Dark Lord, for they were not my affairs when I was alive, much less so now. However, it has been two and a half centuries since one like you, an unlikely, fearful Slytherin that most think Slytherin himself would have shunned, has come to Hogwarts. The last one was another ghost here in Hogwarts that I rather like, so I understand your dilemmas. I understand the pain on your face, and the shame that led to it. I understand more than you know. Being dead, I am given certain... privileges. You are in great danger, young Miss Griffin. Beware, but do not be afraid."

Corielle's mouth hung open until she was aware of how impolite the Bloody Baron would find her reaction. With effort, she pursed her lips together, then swallowed before venturing what she hoped would be a deflective question.

"What... what are you talking about?"

The Baron shook his head. "I will say no more. The rest is for you to find out. But," he continued, holding up one iridescent finger, "should you need a listening ear without a ready mouth, talk to Peeves, the poltergeist. Follow the clatters of mischief, or ask Filch. Mention my name, and he will not harm you. He will treat you with respect, because of my protection, and he'll be surprisingly... understanding with you. I hope." Then he faded away, and Corielle was left with only the crackling of the fire for company.

Suddenly, a flapping of wings interrupted her musings. A dark, ragged owl flew to her chair, deposited a note, then flew away without so much as a 'by your leave.' She unfolded it, and read:

Don't bother coming to early morning tutorials with me the rest of this week. I am otherwise engaged. Just drop your vacation essays on my desk, and I'll read them. I have heard many words of praise regarding your skills. I am pleased, but not entirely convinced. Be at our private classes all the earlier next week.

Professor Snape

~888~

That weekend at breakfast, Draco slipped next to Corielle, who was once again reading her History of Magic text.

"Well, well, well, fancy meeting you here," he said.

Corielle shut her book with a snap.

"Don't you have anything better to do than badger me?" she snarled, standing abruptly.

"No, wait," Draco replied quickly, grabbing her arm. "Don't go yet."

Staring at him warily, Corielle lowered herself back into her seat. Draco did not let go of her arm, and Corielle tried to tug it away discreetly, without seeming impolite. Draco showed no sign of recognizing her discomfort.

"You know, there's supposed to be a pre-seventh-year project in Potions this year as a preliminary for the graduation project, and we're supposed to be in pairs..."

Her response was abruptly to the point.

"No."

Corielle pulled a bit more forcefully on her arm. Draco tightened his grip. Inwardly, he wondered why Snape had instructed him to harass her like this- he could not believe it really could be just to satisfy his professor's curiousity, but he could see no other reason for the instructions he had received. And he certainly was not going to make the mistake of failing to carry out what he had been told to do. So he tried an alternative approach.

"With whom will you do it then?" he murmured in her ear.

"Anyone but you," was Corielle's frantic answer. "Let me go."

His hand slid up her arm in an intentionally seductive manner- it had not failed him yet- hoping to rile some sort of definite response, and in doing so, brushed against the edge of her scarf, slipping it slightly off the top of her head.

With a strangled cry, Corielle abandoned her attempt at rigid self-control and ripped herself from his touch. Then she grabbed her empty breakfast plate, and, teeth bared, she crashed it on top of Draco's head with such force that it cracked in two, and Draco was partially knocked out. Taking advantage of his momentary unconsciousness, she grabbed her scarf from its dangling position and expertly tied it into a precarious knot, managing to do so before anyone could see the telltale wisps of hair that had escaped her carefully designed protection. Then, unrepentant to the violence she had unleashed on her fellow classmate, she turned her back on him and continued eating as though nothing had happened.

It took Corielle several moments to realize that everyone in the Hall was watching, and those who were not laughing their heads off were openmouthed like beached fish. A few people at the Slytherin table clapped, but it was the majority of the Gryffindor table who were in fits. There were shouts of encouragement, and a red-headed girl was giggling into her scrambled eggs.

"You deserved it, Draco Malfoy," Ginny Weasley called as she wiped her chin, blatantly ignoring the cold stares her declaration earned her from several of the other Slytherins present in the Great Hall. Leaving the safety of her own table, she rushed over, tapped Corielle on her shoulder, and shook her hand with an air of one who is bestowing personal congratulation on a comrade in arms. Corielle looked at her as though she was crazy.

"Great moves with the plate there! Frankly, you are an inspiration to all the Gryffindors. We've wanted for years to beat Draco Malfoy into a bloody pulp, and you've at least made the first step in denting that damnable pride of his. We bow to you." Ginny's actions fit her words as she executed a melodramatic bow. Corielle turned to look down at Draco, who by now had recovered to full consciousness, though he was still sprawled out on the floor.

"You have enemies?"

Draco, having had insult added to injury, muttered, "You have no idea."

Suddenly, a shadow loomed over Corielle, Ginny, and Draco.

"Is there something wrong?" came Professor Snape's glacially sarcastic tones, clearly expressing his
disapproval of the sight that met his eyes.

Rubbing his head and trying to retrieve his dignity, Draco winced and replied, "No, Professor, it was my fault."

"Miss Weasley, I suggest you return to your House table."

Snape did not even spare a glance at Ginny as he dismissed her. The red-head immediately complied, shying away from the condescending glare. Snape waited until she was well out of earshot before he continued.

"Miss Griffin, Mr. Malfoy, explain yourselves."

Corielle looked at her plate.

Draco sneaked a look at her, saw her trembling chin, then answered for both of them. "I did something I was not permitted to do. I deserved my punishment."

Snape rested his eyes on Draco, raking his gaze across the growing bump accented by his pallor, letting him squirm a bit, then turned back to Corielle. He waited for her to reply, but she kept her mouth shut. Like Draco, he did not miss the shaking of her chin, and he wanted to slap her for it.

He released a rush of air, and said in a tone of unmistakable exasperation, "Get yourself to the hospital wing, Draco; that goose egg is frightful."

Draco scurried off, inching around the forbidding Professor. Though tempted to wait and see the conclusion of Snape's discussion with Corielle, he knew better than to disobey orders from his Head of House - especially when he uttered them in that tone of voice.

For his part Snape could not believe that Draco still could not relieve Miss Griffin of her scarf. It was just a piece of cloth, for Chrestomanci. Oh well, If you want something done, you've got to do it yourself. His gaze hardened on the elusive Corielle.

Corielle waited for the reprimand, but when it did not come, she thought for a moment he had stalked off. She glanced up hopefully to see if he had gone. He had not, but he stood like a sentinel, patient for an explanation. She made to wring her hands, but grabbed her robes to prevent the habit from expressing itself.

Then, from behind her, there was a flurry of motion, and with a distinctive noise- Myup!- a ginger tabby jumped onto Corielle's lap, and turned into a circle to eye the dark man who dared to stare at her girl.

Corielle was momentarily distracted from her impending doom. Stroking her tabby gently, she addressed it
reprovingly.

"Gwynllion! I thought you had lost your way. You're not allowed in here."

The cat showed no sign that her girl had spoken, but continued the staring contest with Professor Snape. Fur was beginning to rise on the ridge of her back and her tail was puffing out. A low hiss emerged from her throat, and Snape's eyes rose sardonically.

"Gwynllion," Snape murmured. "An appropriate name. She does not approve of me."

Corielle stroked her cat's fur pensively. "She usually likes people. The only other people she does not like are..." Corielle trailed off and pushed Gwynllion, who spoke in protest and sauntered off huffily, from her lap, her face becoming hot. Clearing her throat, she faced the inevitable.

"I'm sorry I hit Draco, Professor." She leaned down and gently picked up the split plate from the floor. "He did something that I had not expressly warned him against, and I just reacted."

Snape took the fragments and examined them. "Quite a reaction, but knowing Mr. Malfoy, he probably deserved it. However, for not responding earlier, five points from Slytherin."

"But..."

"No 'buts,' Miss Griffin. 'Buts' do not work with me, and if you intend to pursue the issue further, your butt will be out of Hogwarts before you can say it again."

He looked her over, from her thin hands to her silk-covered head. Once again, he wondered how to
achieve his ends without seeming to be personally involved. Then he had an idea.

"Come with me, Miss Griffin, into the Entrance Hall."

Corielle obeyed, wondering what horribly devious punishment Snape planned to mete out there. When he had shut the door, blocking out the sounds of gossip about the recent events, Snape whirled around, glowering, with a slight dangerous smile on his unattractive face.

"That scarf is a violation of the dress code here. It clearly states that pointed witch hats are to be used as day-wear. That scarf is not a hat. Take it off and give it to me. I will confiscate it."

Corielle's mind whirled in horror. This new twist had never occurred to her. Was Snape lying? But why
would he do that? It must be regulation, as he had stated so coldly. And yet, even knowing that, her hands
refused to move towards the scarf covering her head. She couldn't... she wouldn't... Her breath began to quicken.

"Take it off, Miss Griffin."

Corielle still made no move to remove her scarf. Snape's eyes narrowed as he glared down at her inert form. He was surprised that she hadn't leapt to obey him - the Mouse, as he considered her to be - certainly didn't have it in her to defy her own Head of House. She was probably just rigid with fear. Well, he'd say something which would spur her to action.

"Take it off, Miss Griffin, or I will take it off for you."

Corielle's hands remained clenched at her side, and Snape marvelled at her persistence. Once again, he was struck by a palpable wave of curiosity to discover what was so important about keeping the scarf on.

Her determination to wear it at all times, especially when he explicitly ordered it off, certainly indicated that it was more than a normal teenager's preference for a particular kind of accessory. No, the Mouse's head scarfs hid something. The question was - what did they hide?Was she bald, gray? Was she disfigured? Was it religious? Was it psychological? Well, whatever it was, he was about to find out.

"This is your last warning, Miss Griffin. Take... it... off."

At this ultimatum, the Mouse in Corielle disappeared. As she raised her head to glare at the Potions Master, her eyes burned with a fierce determination.

"No."

"Ten points from Slytherin," Snape said, his mouth curling into a sneer.

And then he reached for her scarf.

Corielle's hand swung out and grabbed one of the plate shards from Snape and held it in front of her like a weapon. She swiftly thrust it against his hand, and drew blood immediately.

Snape stared at his wound, aghast. This mouse had struck him, had sliced him without a thought, and she looked ready to do it again. His face twisted as he fought to keep his face passive and emotionless.

"Don't... touch... me... Professor. I know everyone wants to invade my private life, but my life will remain precisely that: private. And you are not to invade that privacy. Understand?"

Her transfiguration from meek to strong frankly amazed the Potions Master enough to retreat a step. This was enough for Corielle to transform once again to her original self, and her face fell. The plate in her hand followed suit and shattered on the ground. Snape could see the tears in her eyes, and he wanted to shake her until he saw that glimmer of rebellion that she had shown to him. But the wound in his hand was enough to convince him of the virtue of patience.

"Understood, Miss Griffin, but I urge you to reconsider your actions when faced with these predicaments. Fifty points from Slytherin.

He swiftly pushed the Dining Hall doors open and made his way back to the teachers' table, cradling his left hand.

Corielle slipped through the slowly-closing doors, wanting in all the world to find a hole and pull it in after her. Instead, she went to the Slytherin table and sat down, staring at the place her plate had been. It was then she realized she was still holding part of the plate section she had dropped, and at its tip was a small drop of blood. She guiltily transfigured it into a fork and set it down.

"That was bloody brilliant," said Marcie from Corielle's left. "You even had us lose points." She turned to Vic. "Maybe we should induct her into our mission of driving people insane."

"No, don't," Corielle said, making up her mind, standing, and grabbing her bag, her eyes noticeably red. "I'm leaving." True to her word, Corielle headed to the double doors leading out of the Great Hall.

I attacked a teacher, I attacked a teacher, I attacked a teacher, oh I am in such big trouble, Professor Snape's going to have his revenge, I just know it, I attacked a teacher, I attacked a teacher, but he shouldn't have done that, I thought I had made it clear, oh I attacked a teacher...

"Wait!" called Ginny. Grabbing the arm of the boy next to her, she waved for Corielle to stop. Corielle complied, and when Ginny freed herself and the boy from the bench, she rushed over and introduced herself. "I'm Ginny Weasley. And this," she said, gesturing to the boy, "is Griffin Coriel."

"But that's my... that's my name, Corielle Griffin. Were you the one's talking during the Sorting?"

Griffin nodded. "I was surprised. How do you spell your first name?"

Corielle explained, "It's with the French 'elle,' for girl. My dad promised this man, a Muggle, on his death bed that he'd name his first child after him. The man's name was Cory, but dad wasn't planning on a female first child. So mum had her way with a French name, and dad was able to keep his promise. It's pretty corny, but it's true."

"That's such a coincidence, though. My grandfather's name is Griff, if you can believe it, and dad wanted to name me after him, but mother didn't want to give me a name that sound like a dog's cough, so they compromised."

Corielle gave a guarded smile.

Ginny, with her friendly disposition, slid her arm through Griffin's. "You know, for a Slytherin, you're not that bad. I mean, you decked Draco, you kind of reminded me of Hermione in our History of Magic class, and you two have the same name."

"Mum and Dad were Gryffindors. I'm still waiting for the Howler. They haven't mailed me yet."

Ginny and Griffin laughed. "Well, we'll see you later, Corielle."

"Sure," Corielle said stiffly. Making friends was not her virtue, and though she did not mind those two Gryffindors, she still was a little rusty on amiability. Then she followed through on her words, and left the Hall to start on her potions due in a few days.

"Well, well, what's this? A student getting ready for classes? What shall I do to hinder you?" A colorful, wickedly smiling ghost jumped out of the wall and stopped upside-down in front of Corielle. "Shall I fly in circles until you become so dizzy you can't walk? Shall I try and pull you through the wall? Or shall I strip you naked just as the rest of the Hall comes in?"

"Go away," Corielle said, her voice breaking. She was ready to cry from everything, and this ghost wasn't helping.

"Go away?" the ghost cackled. "Peeves never releases his victims."

Corielle's head jerked up in surprise. "Peeves? Peeves the Poltergeist?"

"One and the same!" Peeves said, sweeping an exaggerated bow. Then, screaming, he dived at her.

"The Bloody Baron said I should talk to you!" Corielle shouted.

Peeves froze in mid-dive.

"The Baron?" He turned rightside-up and peered suspiciously into the red-eyed girl's face. "Why would he do that?"

Corielle said tremulously, "He said I am like you when you were at Hogwarts."

Peeves shifted back in a melodramatic surprised gesture. Then the Bloody Baron's face crept into is mind, and he winced.

"I'm going now." He flipped backward and headed through the wall.

"But wait..." But he was gone.

As he floated through the castle, he glanced back at Corielle. The Bloody Baron had given her protection from him by the mere mention of his titled name.

He did not have a clue as to why.

But she had interrupted his rampage, and now he rushed off to break some glass over which Filch could yell at him. That would make him feel better. If anything, it would get rid of those pesky memories.

The look in her eyes had been so familiar.