Darkly Bound

     23.

     As spartan and sterile as Tilbury's office in the Ministry building was, it was absolute luxury compared to where I had been. Under the harsh florescent glare he chose for his office lighting, he and Cowley were reviewing mountains of legal documents. I had no idea what any of it meant except that there were still questions about what went on that night, but the fact that three Death Eaters had been taken into custody seemed to allow the ministry some freedom to dispense with some particulars of form.

     "I think that's it," said Tilbury finally. "Just sign for this." He produced an oblong box and placed it on the table. "And you can be

off." It was my wand. I reached for the box and the receipt. Off where,was the question. Cowley got up and left the room. "I'll be just outside."

     I signed for the wand and Tilbury rolled up a stack of documents. "These are for your records. Keep them in a very safe place." He accompanied me to the door to the outer office Cowley was there, in the midst of a conversation. I couldn't see who he was speaking with, but the voice was unmistakable.

     "I came as soon as I heard you were back."

     "I only wish I'd known about this sooner. There was no reason she should have been in there at all. It could have been handled right here, right away."

     "Those responsible for the delay have been dealt with. Dumbledore should have been informed immediately." It was Snape. He spoke to Cowley with an odd sense of familiarity. "Thank you Marcus, for handling this."

     "Don't be ridiculous. There's no need to thank me. That young Auror, Thorpe, is unusually efficient; she has an ally there. Or you could thank my wife perhaps. I had no choice once she got wind of it."

     What on earth were they talking about? Perhaps I was deranged.

     "Gentlemen." Tilbury stepped towards them. "We're quite finished now, remember, if there is anything else I can help you with--" Cowley shook his hand cordially while Snape held his glower to an unusually low simmer.

     "Well, Severus, I'll be going now. I'll be allowed in the house now. Dr. Claros, I only wish I could have come sooner. Perhaps we'll meet again under more pleasant circumstances." He walked briskly out the office door.

     I was frozen where I stood. Snape watched me curiously with his hands clasped behind his back. There was only empty space between us. I was utterly confused. How was I supposed to react?

     Nothing, there's nothing! I looked at him desperately and saw at once in his expression that he knew.

     My eyes went to the door that Cowley had just left through. "That lawyer, Cowley. You sent him?"

     "Of course I did. Where did you think he came from? Didn't he give you my message, Doctor?" He was watching me closely, and I had a sudden impression of how disreputable I must have looked.

     "Doctor! He got that from you? I didn't know, I thought maybe--I don't know, from Hogwarts?"

     "No, Hogwarts couldn't be involved in this mess."

     "But how? Thorpe said....he's some kind of celebrity."

     "He is, of sorts." he said, then leaned down as if he were going to whisper a secret, "His wife is a friend of yours. Marcus Cowley is my brother-in-law. He didn't do this for me, he did it for her."

     "He's Olivia's....it was you all along! You got me out of there!"

     He smiled. "Fair's fair. I admit it wasn't quite through the gates of Hell."

     "But it was! It was Hell! I have no vision left, I can't hear or feel anything. I didn't even know you were here!"

     "It's temporary. It has to be. It's only because you were so close to the dementors."

     "I don't know. I just don't know. That horrible toad said they'd taken precautions. What the hell did that mean? What did they do to me?"

     "What can I do?"

     "Nothing. I don't know. Just talk to me. I just need to hear your voice. Recite the alphabet. I don't care, I just can't take any more silence."

     ***

     I didn't need to open my eyes to know where we were.

     "There, you see? I knew this was just the place."

     "It was just simple deduction," I countered. I looked around the library, knowing exactly why he'd picked it.

     "How did this happen?" he asked lifting some matted, filthy hair away from my forehead. I hadn't seen the wound, but his expression told me it must be hideous. "That'll leave a scar if I don't find something for it. Can't have you walking around looking like Potter."

     I sank down onto a couch in front of the fire and looked up at him. "The alphabet, please. Whenever you're ready."

     He pulled a chair over and sat down facing me. "I am not going to recite the alphabet." I couldn't hear his thoughts, but I knew he was turning something over in his head. What he finally said was a shock. "Everyone thought you were dead. Or worse."

     "What? Why?"

     He waved a hand in a gesture clearly meant to prevent further interruptions. "When they finally allowed me to regain consciousness in the hospital wing, I expected that you'd be there, pacing and carrying-on, exhibiting your usual winning behavior; or at the very least I thought I'd be able to sense you in the castle. There was nothing. Not a whisper."

     "Because of the shields at Azkaban."

     "Right, but no one knew you were still there. All anyone knew was that you'd disapparated from the henge with the intention of arresting Avery and his band, and vanished. Don't forget, I know those men. Everything you said about them that night is true. You'd have made as good a prize as I if they could have brought you down. Then Dumbledore showed up with this." He pulled his wand out of his robes. "I had to coax the story out of him. He could only go so far as to tell me you'd gone in to make the arrest. No one had been suspicious of your absence right away knowing that you would have had to stay until the prisoners were processed. He never suspected anything had gone wrong until an owl arrived days later from the ministry with a note saying this was recovered at the site."

     "From the ministry! I gave it to Thorpe. He was supposed to return it. How'd it get to the ministry?"

     "I suspect it went with yours, Avery's, and any others you might have confiscated. So that's where it stood. No one knew where you were or what had happened. Dumbledore fired off an irate letter to someone at the ministry demanding a full accounting of the events. It took three days to get an answer. By then our hands were tied. When he called me to his office to tell me he looked like he'd aged another hundred years."

     "Finding out I wasn't dead aged him a hundred years? That can't be good."

     "Be quiet." He shifted uncomfortably. "Looking back on that just now I think I might have frightened him a bit after he broke his news. He was going on and on, explaining, and all the while I was deciding on the fastest way to get to Cowley. I'd stopped listening to him, forgot he was still speaking. I just turned my back on him and walked out of his office."

     I couldn't help but smile picturing the scene. "I wouldn't worry. I can pretty much guarantee that he noticed nothing unusual in that."

     "Now that is just unfair. I nearly always wait for a speaker to finish before stalking out."

     "Only because the withering stare has more impact if the subject is attentive."

     "Feeling better?"

     "I am. Now let me guess. You didn't contact Cowley, you contacted Olivia."

     "Very good! She was furious, blamed me of course, and Cowley was at Hogwarts before nightfall. I told him about Tilbury, and that was all he needed. I don't know what they conjured up, but I'd advise you to not look too closely into it."

     I sat up suddenly. "Someone switched our wands. That's got to be it. I'd say Thorpe."

     "How could he have done that? He'd be taking an awful risk," he looked surprised, but intrigued.

     "Thorpe took two wands off me that night. It would be a very simple thing to mix up some routine paperwork, don't you think? If Thorpe supervised-- I'm willing to bet that somewhere in that office there is a file that claims there is no evidence of a cruciatus curse having emanated from the confiscated wand taken from the hand of Melpomene Claros."

     "And where does that leave me?" he asked wryly, "Now that your new admirer has left me with the smoking wand?"

     "Hoping they didn't go too far back into your dark and depraved past, I should think. What do you mean 'admirer'?"

     "Harlan Thorpe. Former student, only a fair one as I recall. Hufflepuff. What does that tell you? And young enough to--"

     "You are absolutely evil!" I fought back a laugh. "A former student using priori incantatum on your wand. Oh dear. What horrible detentions did you mete out to him?"

     "None, he wasn't even worth that. He was downright dull and altogether average."

     "Which is why you remember him so vividly. Anyway, If Thorpe switched those results it's better left alone. I've been advised to not look too closely into this."

     "Excellent advice." He looked again at my scabbed forehead. "Wait here," he said as he got up quickly and left the library. I walked over to the glass doors that lead outside and opened them wide. A freezing blast of wind and a fine misty rain hit me head on. It was absolutely heavenly. The smell of fresh air and the bite of the cold was a like a tonic after being shut up in the fetid, overheated infirmary at Azkaban. I took a few steps outside relishing the sting of the cold rain on my face.

     A shout from inside broke my reverie. "What the hell are you doing out there? Come back in before you catch your death!"

     I didn't move, but started laughing. "I've never seen a more beautiful day! It's quite balmy, really!"

     Now he was directly behind me. "More like barmy. Come back in!"

     I followed him, still laughing. "Where did you go?"

     He pulled me over to the fire and pushed me into the chair nearest the hearth. "Once I've finished this you'll go have a hot bath an put on some dry clothes." All this was said through clenched teeth as he shook a bottle rather more vigorously than necessary. "Now sit still."

     I was feeling giddy. "Oooh, S-S-Severus!"

     He glared at me, stopped shaking the bottle and poured out a foul smelling liquid onto a handkerchief.

     "Well that explains the need for a bath."

     "This might sting a bit." He dabbed the cloth onto the scrape on my forehead. It felt like he was running a sword through my head. I saw stars behind my eyes and caught my breath so fast It caused a coughing fit.

     "What the hell is that?" I screamed at him when I could finally manage words. "What have you done? It was just a scrape!" The pain moved to the back of my head and I was sure my eyes were being pushed out from behind. "What is in that damned bottle?"

     "I told you I was going to get something to prevent a scar."

     "So you burn my whole head off instead? I'm going to ask you one more time. What is that?"

     "A simple infusion of various--"

     "What did you infuse them in? I'm sure you could have found something less caustic than quicklime!"

     "It's the causticity that does the job."

     "I am not going to stand here and argue potions with you while my face is peeling off. I'll go have that bath, thank you, and save what skin I have left." I turned and started out of the room. I made it as far as the door. When I turned back he was staring absently at the bottle.

     "May I use that same room?"

     He looked up, surprised. "Pardon?"

     "The same room I used before. Last time. When I was here."

     "Oh. Yes, that's fine," he answered, as if he was listening to, or trying to hear something just out of ear-shot. He looked up again just as I turned again to leave. "No. Wait. I've just had a better idea."

     "You've had a better idea? No, thank you. That last one was quite good enough." The searing pain had subsided into an oppressive throbbing.

     "Please yourself," he said and dropped into a chair.

     "Look," I said taking a step back into the room. "You've done enough. More than enough. I mean that. Sending Cowley, coming to get me--you didn't have to do any of that and believe me I appreciate that you did. If it's all the same to you though, I don't want to put off the inevitable. I'll just get cleaned up, then I'll go."

     "Fine. Do what you like. I was only trying to help."

     I went back to the fireside. "You know that saying 'the road to Hell is paved with good intentions'? Do you know what's written on the bottom step? The one just before you fall off into the flames? It's 'I was only trying to help'. It's the one right under 'I thought you'd like it'." I sat down, rested my elbows on my knees and held my aching head between my fists.

     "Alright, you're on your own. Where will you go?"

     "Well I don't expect there's much reason to go back to Hogwarts. Other than to pack."

     "If you say so. Where then?" His expression was inscrutable.

     "I don't know. Maybe... Sweden?"

     "Sweden? What's in bloody Sweden?"

     I'd found a crack and started to work my way in. "I've heard it's nice. Except for maybe the boxy cars."

     "Boxy cars. Are you planning on driving Muggle automobiles there?" The implacable expression was showing strain around the edges.

     "I might fancy a drive around the fjords. What's wrong with you? Can't you understand the lure of the simple joys of fresh air, a lovely landscape and the chance spotting an occasional moose in its native habitat? Severus?"

     "Hmm?"

     "Are there fjords in Sweden?"

     "I haven't the faintest bloody idea." A vein was throbbing in his temple as he tried to suppress either a violent rage or an attack of hilarity. "If there are, you'd get a far better view from a broomstick. You could get in closer."

     Giggling with a severe headache is never a good idea. Trying to hold back giggles with a severe headache is an even worse one.

     "You'd have to watch out for Vikings. You wouldn't be so foolish as to track down a Viking in its natural habitat, would you?"

     "I don't know. Is it a very good-looking Viking?"

     "A damned sight better looking than the moose, I'd wager."

     "Well then, when you come visit I'll introduce you."

     "To the Viking?"

     "Or the moose, your choice."

     "I'll make a note in my diary." He allowed a lopsided grin, stood up and walked towards one of the groaning bookshelves.

     I stood up with a sigh and headed back out of the room. "Oh, Severus?" I turned back just at the door. He looked over from his search of the bookshelf. "Thank you. Really. It was nice to find out I had someone looking out for me. It's been a long time since I've had that."

     He looked back to his books, embarrassed. "Yes, well--"

     "You don't have to explain."

     He pulled a book down and brushed dust off it's covers. "Look. What I was going to say before. That room you were in, that's fine if you like it, but I was going to suggest you go to up the third landing, to the last door on your left. You won't be sorry. I think it will suit you."

     Still unable to read his thoughts, I had to rely on reading his tone and expression. This was important to him somehow. "Alright. I suppose this room affords a better view of the forest? For my moose viewing pleasure?"

He ignored that and launched back into his familiar attitude. "Don't dawdle."

     I laughed all the way up all three flights of stairs, even with the throbbing headache.

     *

     It seemed odd having too look for a room here by following directions, but once I got to the third floor it wasn't hard to find. I ran my hand along the wood paneled hallway, wondering if I could pick up any energy that had permeated the aged panels. I tried lower down, leaning slightly as I walked. The energy left by children is purer, and more vibrant. I knew the countless generations that had grown up in this house could not have passed through these halls without leaving something behind. The wood was polished as smooth as satin, but that was all my senses were willing to tell me today.

     When I reached the end of the corridor, it was at a pair of large double doors. Looking at them I realized there was a decided lack of doors along this hall, which made me all the more curious to see what was behind these.

     I shouldn't have been surprised, really, but when I opened the doors to that room it seemed such a shock that I nearly closed them back up again and run back down stairs. This was no room. This was what was usually described in romantic or gothic novels as 'apartments'. Most people, lived out most of their lives in houses smaller than this. I stepped into a beautifully furnished sitting room with a breathtaking outlook over the back lawns. It was dark in the room and I left it that way, but I did start a fire. The splendor of the room made me feel more acutely the sorry state I was in. I had to get cleaned up. Getting my bearings, I wandered into an adjoining room, an equally well appointed bedchamber with an adjoining bath. I might as well had stumbled into heaven itself.

     The icy mist had turned into a pounding rain with occasional breaks for sleet. The afternoon was coming on darkly so I lit some candles. Needing to break the silence I decided I needed some music, and so I had created quite a pleasant little habitat for myself. I stood by the fire and shook out the pockets of my filthy robes. This was becoming a habit. If it kept up much longer I might have to have my own private filthy, ruined robes closet assigned. Not much fell out, my wand, some screwed up bits of paper, a couple of coins, a lump of quartz crystal some student had given me for luck--or something, a badly forged hall pass I'd taken off another student, some hair pins and the tarot card Cowley had given me that morning. I tossed the dirty robe over a chair and collected the items off the floor, placing them on a little table next to the window. What a miserable day. It was glorious. If the rain and sleet hadn't been beating against the windows, I'd have opened them as wide as they'd have gone. Instead I looked again at the message on the card. 'A wrong is unredressed when retribution overtakes its redresser.' I knew those words, they had been quoted from somewhere but I couldn't place the source. I closed my eyes for a moment, just a moment I was sure of that, and let the music wash over me.

     "Melpomene?"

     My entire body tensed and my heart stopped. I forced my eyes opened, reached out towards the table where I knew my wand was. Fumbling for it, just briefly, I found and snatched it up in a two handed grip and swung around towards the voice.

     "Stop!" I realized that as the blind panic cleared from my head that it was Snape. He put his hand on the death grip I had on my wand and gently lowered my arms.

     I could hardly breathe. "I'm sorry," I whispered trying to even my breathing, "I didn't know you were there."

     "I'd been stood there ten minutes. You never moved. I was beginning to wonder if you were even still here. What were you doing?"

     I looked at him, astonished. "I don't know. Ten minutes?"

     "And that's just how long I've been here."

     "That's not good."

     "I should think not."

     "What was I thinking?" I asked him, knowing he could still read my thoughts even though his were closed to me.

     "That's the odd thing. Nothing. Not that I could fathom. I don't think you were here."

     "That's even worse." I turned back to the window. "This is a beautiful room, suite, chambers, whatever you landed gentry call it."

     "Thank you."

     I picked up the card I had dropped while grasping for my wand and held it up. "Where did this come from?"

     "Your rooms at--"

     "Not the card, I know where you got the card. The quote. Where'd you get this line from?"

     "It's Poe."

     "Edgar Allan. Right. Amontillado. Bricking people up in walls. Yes, I can see you enjoying that. Poe and his stinking Raven."

     "Amontillado, yes. Raven, no. What's wrong with ravens?"

     "I hate the things. Can't stand the thought of them. They're nothing but filthy scavengers."

     "Really?" he dragged the word out. "Because--"

     I knew what was coming next. "Don't say it! You don't have to remind me."

     "Alright. I won't mention the raven again." But a glint started in his eyes that told me I had not hear the last of it. "I promise. Nevermore."

     "Severus Snape--"

     "Oh dear. I haven't heard my name used in that tone in a very long time."

     "Ravens are off limits. Please. You may rummage around in my head all you want to find out why, but ravens are forbidden as fodder."

     He very wisely let the subject drop. I had no doubt, however, he'd be investigating further. I was thankful at that moment that our mental connection was firmly one-sided. "Well," he finally said, "are you finished...doing whatever it was you were doing?"

     "I think so. I'll fix up this robe then we can go. I was going to write a quick letter first, to make arrangements back home."

     "What? Home where?"

     "Salem, where else? I really should warn someone before I show up out of nowhere months ahead of time."

     He stared at me blankly for a moment, then ran one hand up the side of his face into his hair and scratched his head in a decidedly frustrated manner. "Don't you think you should wait until you hear what Dumbledore has to say first?"

     "Oh and him too. I should write my resignation. It would make it easier for him, wouldn't it?"

     "No. Sit down and listen to me." He waited until I did as he asked, then sat opposite me. He tented his fingers and looked over them. "You really have no idea what's been going on, do you? No, of course you don't. Think about it, think about how Thorpe treated you."

     "Well he was rather....attentive. He did go on and on, 'how'd you do this?' 'wish I'd been there when'..."

     "You don't think the arrest was kept a secret either, do you?"

     "I have no idea, you're telling me it was in the newspaper or something?"

     He nodded slightly. "Not all of it, of course, the Ministry has to be very careful situations like these, certain details were left out. No names, of course, but yes, it was in the newspapers.

     I felt like I was sinking. "Oh" was all I could manage at first. "If there were no names--"

     "Everyone knows the names. It's 'fill in the blanks' at Hogwarts. Students hear rumors about so-and-so's really an Auror, see who turns up missing...parents get owls...."

     I was back to "Oh" again.

     "If it makes you feel any better, how do you think I've come out in this saga? As the damsel in distress, I daresay."

     I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "That part wasn't in the paper, right? I know, we'll both go to Salem."

     "As tempting as that sounds, at the moment I think I'd rather just have something to eat--and more importantly to drink. Would you care to join me?"

     "Yes, that sounds perfect." I got up and followed him out of the room. "What are we going to do when we get back?"

     "I haven't worked that out yet."

     "Well what are people saying?"

     He stopped and looked at me. "Which people? Shall I start with the students? Or would you like to hear what our esteemed colleagues have been speculating?"

     "Well, you know, some of it's tr--"

     "I don't even want to think about it."

     "Oh thank you!"

     "You know what I mean."

     "It's that bad?"

     "It's worse."

     "Well there's nothing else for it, you know. There's only one answer. I guarantee it will shut everyone up for good."

     "What's that?"

     "Tonight, right before dinner, I'll walk up to you and plant a big wet kiss right on you, in front of everyone. But it won't work unless you cooperate. It's got to be the real thing or the spell won't take."

     He kept on walking, never missed a step, never glanced down. "You are an idiot."

     "Maybe, but I guarantee that hall will have never been more quiet and never will be again. There is nothing more noiseless than a shocked silence. Multiply that by, what, 500, 600 souls?"

     "Oh, by the way," he said interrupting my theorizing, "did I mention that you are an idiot?"

     24.

     "I'm not sneaking in. It'd be better if we acted as if we walked in together like this every day. It certainly won't make things any worse." I went ahead not wanting to get any wetter than need be. As expected, inside was barely managed bedlam. Class changes were always hectic, but when everyone was trapped inside in bad weather the place was chaos. A few looked up at us when the doors banged shut, but I didn't notice anything more sinister than a few pointed fingers and whispers behind hands. I spotted just who I needed just starting up a staircase.

     "Miranda Grisham!" Miranda was a seventh year student, I'd often used her as an assistant. A broad smile crossed her face and she began working her way back towards me.

     "What are you doing?"

     I looked up at Snape. For someone who didn't want to be seen with me, he'd missed a fine opportunity to sneak away unnoticed. "Damage control. You've had over a week's head start on me, you should have already done this."

     Miranda had reached me at last. "Professor! You're back! We'd heard so many stories, we didn't know what to think." I didn't miss that her eyes had flickered briefly up towards Snape.

     "Yes, it's those stories we need to talk about. Listen. I want you to find Margot and Christina. On your way, find Jamaica Kinkaid and bring her with you. Jamaica is second year, she'll need this." I conjured a hall pass with a flick of my fingers. "I don't care where they are, or whose classes they're in, I need you all in my office right now. You understand?"

     "Of course, Professor." She darted off without a question.

     "Now you just watch this," I said to Snape before he had a chance to speak. "I'm about to put my little coven into action."

     "Jamaica Kinkaid is in Slytherin House."

     "I know that. I told you about her and you had your chance. Never send a wizard to do a witch's work." I headed for the stairs then turned back and gave him a syrupy smile, "I'll see you at dinner."

     He blanched, looked slightly shaken, turned on his heel and stalked off in the opposite direction.

     ***

     The three older girls sat in my office looking extremely nervous. Miranda had gathered them quickly but hadn't been able to tell them why. Margot probably knew; she was my best student, perhaps best ever, a true adept. Christina was a clever girl, and was extremely popular. She had a talent for being able to ingratiate herself with all the various cliques and cultures around school.

     There was no sign yet of Jamaica, which was fine. I intended to let her sweat a while. She was due a personal interview. "Ladies, don't look so upset. This is not an inquisition, it's not the end of the world."

     "Yes, Professor." They answered in a perfect chorus.

     "Oh this won't do. Are you hungry?" I conjured up tea, sandwiches and some sticky, gooey cakes. That broke the ice immediately.

     I sat down with them. "You all know I trust you completely and I hope you trust me. You understand that anything said in this room will never be repeated?"

     They looked at each other moon-eyed, "Yes, Professor Claros."

     "I need you all to be perfectly honest. I need to know exactly, exactly, what people have been saying here about what's been going on the last couple of weeks. Don't try to spare any feelings, or leave anything out no matter how ridiculous it seems. I want to hear every story, every rumor, every joke. Do you understand?"

     "Everything, Miss?" Christina looked nervously at the door.

     I waved my wand towards it and sealed it with a spell. "No one's at the door, Christina. And yes, everything. In return, I'll tell you the truth. There is usually some truth in these matters. They don't get started on their own. Does that sound fair?"

     They didn't look convinced. Margot was the first to speak up. "Where should we start?"

     I sat in a vague, stunned silence and listened to them. The embroidery the human imagination was capable of was amazing. The children at this school were either reading far too much or not enough at all. It seemed like every plot of every cheap novel had been adapted to fit the occasion. At one point I was half expecting someone to mention pirates being involved somewhere and wouldn't have been the least bit surprised to meet my Swedish viking friend. Then they turned vicious. Poor Christina bore the brunt of this part due to her ability to relate to even the least popular students. It seemed there was a fairly large group of older girls who had recently decided that they did not like me at all. My disappearance was a balm to them, and the circumstances behind it, if what they believed was true, would have gotten a certain other professor sent to Azkaban for life. Fortunately perhaps, running through all of this fantasy was a slim thread of truth. Someone had known I was acting as an Auror, and that had managed to work its way into some of the stories. The arrest of the three Death Eaters was public record. There was, unfortunately, some legitimacy to Snape's report of tales of heroic rescue. The girls went on for a very long time and I had the distinct impression they were barely scratching the surface.

     "Alright, that's enough." I finally let them stop. "I figured as much." I stood up and wandered over to my window. "Have some more tea while I think for a minute."

     "Miss?" Christina asked in a very quiet voice.

     "Yes, Christina."

     "You said you'd tell us the truth," that quiet voice was developing a quaver.

     "That I did. Was there something specific you were looking for?" I would have turned and looked at her, but didn't want to scare her off asking her question.

     "Well," she hesitated.

     "Don't!" hissed Miranda.

     "Hush, Miranda! Let the girl finish."

     "Well Professor, this whole thing started with that spell--"

     "Christina! You don't believe that nonsense!"

     I turned around then. "Miranda, please. Christina has a question, she deserves to be heard." I turned to Christina who was shaking. "The spell those Slytherin girls told you about?"

     The poor girl was on the verge of tears. "I told them there was no spell! I told them you'd never do that. I said no one would do that. I mean, who would even want to put a love charm on old Snape?"

     I sat down next to her. "I can't answer that, Christina. Maybe they could. But there is a spell."

     All three of them stopped breathing. All I could hear was the ticking of the old clock that sat on the mantlepiece. "You may rest assured, it is not a love charm."

     "Professor!" gasped Miranda.

     "Aren't you glad I let her ask?"

     "Some're saying it was dark magic you did. They say you're a--" she looked terrified.

     "Some might say that, I'm sure." I covered my face with my hand for a few seconds then looked back at her. This was going to be tricky. "Dark magic is used to further one's own interests and to gain control over others. Have you ever heard of dark magic being used to save lives?"

     "I don't think so, Miss."

     "No. Of course not. A wise man said to me very recently, 'There is no dark magic where there are no dark intentions.' Try to look at it that way."

     Miranda looked into her teacup like it held the answer to life itself. "What kind of spell was it then?"

     "It was a very old, very powerful and very dangerous one. One that both Professor Snape and I will probably regret for the rest of our lives, but at the time it was necessary. As I said. There are lives at stake."

     Margot was listening to all this with a distant look in her eyes. "Pardon me, Professor, but--" she paused, trying to gather her thoughts. "I'm sorry, but why would you regret it? I can't see why you'd regret being so close to another person. Any other person. You'd never be alone, no matter where you were or what was happening."

     I had no answer for her. I suspected she was hunting for it on her own.

     Christina and Miranda looked back and forth between us waiting for the silence to break.

     Margot breached it. "While you were gone, didn't it help to know that you weren't really ever alone there? It had to have done."

     "There are worse things than being alone, Margot." I said quietly.

     "No, Miss. No, I don't think there are. I do think there are people who tell themselves that."

     I was absolutely dumbstruck.

     "Professor Claros, just what spell was this? What's she talking about?"

     I'd never been so thankful for an impertinent question.

     "Oh, um, Miranda. It was, as I said, a very old spell. But what Margot is talking about is, basically, that now Professor Snape and I share our thoughts and feelings."

     "That's it? Well that doesn't seem so dangerous." Miranda sounded disappointed. "Does he even have feelings?"

     "But it's Snape!" Christina blurted, "Imagine having old Snape in your head all the time!"

     "That's Professor Snape, Christina and do me a favor. Keep the 'old' part to yourself."

     "But Miss, you're not nearly--"

     "I'm afraid I am."

     "Sorry, Miss," She blushed. "Do you really, I mean--you can hear what he's thinking? All the time?" she actually shuddered.

     "Not at the moment, no. That's really just a side effect. It wasn't the main purpose of the thing."

     "So that part is true then? Professor Snape was nearly killed? And you saved him?"

     "Well I don't know if he was nearly killed. He doesn't look like he was nearly killed, does he?"

     "Miss, you promised us the truth," Margot scolded.

     She was right, I was underestimating them. "I'm sorry, I did. Alright. What you should know, and what you must never repeat to another living soul is that Professor Snape and I do have business together outside of Hogwarts. That was why the binding was done. You already know I have been working as an Auror. Professor Snape has been assisting me. He knows a lot of people, and a lot about things they did a long time ago. Things they might still be doing. That night, Professor Snape went to see some of those people. Something went wrong. Yes, I used the spell to pull him out of that situation. It was done from a distance, all by magic. No charging in wands blazing, nothing heroic."

     "But Professor," Christina interrupted, "The paper said you arrested three Death Eaters on your own, before the ministry even got there! All on your own!"

     "Christina, the paper said no such thing!" I snapped, sincerely hoping, since I hadn't seen the papers, that I was right. "Homework: read that paper and bring me a summary of the actual report tomorrow."

     "Yes, Professor," she mumbled.

     "And bring me the paper too, I haven't read it."

     She looked back up at me and laughed.

     "Now listen. If any of you have any more questions about this, you come to me. If you hear any more of this nonsense, you come to me. My door is always open. I'm depending on you to help me stop this now. This gossip and rumor-mongering has to stop. I want the names of anyone you hear spreading any new stories. I don't mean to get them in trouble, I just want to get a handle on where this is coming from."

     "Yes, Professor." They were a chorus again.

     "As soon as you hear any of these stupid stories, just see if you can insert yourself into the conversation. Laugh them off. Tell the others to do the same. The sooner they're dismissed as trivial and boring the sooner they'll disappear. Something else will come up soon enough to draw everyone's attention. Maybe Potter will come up with some new stunt to woo everyone away. That'll make Professor Snape happy too, he'll have someone besides me ruining his day."

     Christina and Miranda clapped their hands over their mouths to stifle laughs. Margot looked at me with an unsettling half grin.

     "Good, now off with you, get to work. Margot, give me two minutes, then send in that snotty little Miss Kinkaid"

     I unsealed and opened the door just enough for them to get through. As they left I muttered a lingui-confundum charm. I didn't want to do that, I trusted them not to repeat what they'd been told, but I remembered too clearly how easily words slip out at seventeen. They were fiercely loyal and Christina especially was far too interested in the binding to let her go back to her fringe friends armed with that information. I cleared away the remains of the tea, and extinguished the fire in the grate. The room was still a bit too cheery for my next appointment. Out went a few candles, I closed the curtains almost all the way, opened the windows a crack, and changed color of my robes to black. A chill was setting in quickly as I slid behind my desk. I had just started scribbling nonsense with a noisy quill when a tiny, very pale but freckled face peered around my door. 'The Source' herself.

     "Ummm....Professor Claros?" she ventured.

     I scribbled a bit more and glanced up at her. She had to be used to this sort of treatment, but she looked terrified. I held up a hand to silence her and continued to pretend to write. I counted off a few beats then dropped the quill and looked at her. "Miss Jamaica Kinkaid."

     "Y..y...y..yes, Professor. Someone said you wanted to see me."

     "Your little friend Janelle?"

     "Um yes."

     "Um yes?"

     "Yes, Miss. Professor!"

     "Have a seat, Miss Kinkaid." She dropped like a stone into the nearest chair. "Your friend Janelle has told me a little about you, Jamaica."

     "Oh yes, Miss?"

     "She tells me you are interested in charms."

     She swallowed hard.

     "Tell me, Jamaica. What sorts of charms interest you the most?"

     "I don't really know, Professor."

     "Ah. I see." I stood up and walked around to the front of my desk. "Let me see your wand."

     She fumbled miserably for some time in her pockets before finding it and handing it over. I took it and gave it a couple of flicks. "Very nice. It should do well. You want a short wand for charm work. Here, look at mine."

The chair she was in scraped backwards on the floor several inches as I drew out my wand and held it out towards her. "Wands aren't much use in divination. Charm work is what I use this for mostly. Oh and a few other things you may have heard about recently. Unfortunately."

     "Yes Miss," came a strangled whisper.

     "Now, Miss Kinkaid, I'd like to thank you for your admiration of my abilities. I've heard the detail you've gone into in describing the great success of my charm work. You're quite the little cheerleader, aren't you?"

     "Um, yes....I mean no, Professor."

     "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm afraid you've got the wrong idea about me. In fact, you've got the entirely wrong idea about charms altogether."

     "The wrong idea, Professor?"

     "Entirely the wrong idea, Miss Kinkaid. For instance, you should be told that it is absolutely impossible to make someone do something that is contrary to their character."

     "Sorry Miss, I don't understand."

     "No? Let me put it another way. You can wave your little wand all you want, you can mutter any incantation you like and you can pour any sweet or foul liquid you can concoct into anyone's pumpkin juice but none of that will ever get them to fall in love with you!"

     The poor little thing was blinking furiously now, "I'm sorry, Miss!"

     "I think you understand me now."

     "Yes, Miss. I do, Miss. I'm sorry, Miss."

     "You will, Miss Kinkaid, tell everyone that what you told them about any charm of mine was a made-up story. You will assure them that not one word of it is true."

     "But Miss--"

     "Don't you dare 'But Miss' me!"

     "It's too late! Everyone's heard it, some of the older girls--"

     "I know all about them. It's no matter what they believe now. As long as you admit what you've done I will consider everything forgiven. I can speak only for myself, of course." I added darkly.

     "Thank you, Miss. I am sorry, Miss."

     "You may go now. But listen and listen well, Miss Jamaica Kinkaid. If I ever hear that you are spreading stories about any other professors, even if it's to do with what they've had for breakfast, you won't be visiting me. Do you understand? Would you rather have had this conversation with your Housemaster?"

     The pale face went even whiter. I could see the blue veins under her skin as she stared into the floor. She probably imagined she was having this conversation with her Housemaster. Which was, of course, the very idea.

     A loud bell broke the silence. "Oh, there's the dinner bell," I announced brightly. "Jamaica, would you like to walk to the hall with me?"

     When she turned her face to look up at me in surprise, I'd relit the candles and fire, and changed my robes back to their original non-black colors. The poor thing looked ready to faint.

     "Um--alright Miss--okay--"

     We set off, with Miss Kinkaid looking nervously behind her.

     "Jamaica is a lovely name. Rather unusual."

     "Thank you, Miss. I was born there. Jamaica, the island, that is."

     "Really? I lived in the islands for a while myself, did you know that? It was a very long time ago."