Philomena

***Friends and Enemies***

Lucius glared at the Owner. "If you can't keep your customers from being attacked under your very nose - "

"Where does ya think we are, Diagon Alley?" asked the Owner, heavily sarcastic. "If you canna keep yer Wand from flyin' off right under yer nose, tha' has nothin' to do wi' me."

"Damnit!" shouted Lucius. "I've been disarmed by an ice-cream man!"

The Owner shrugged. "You might ha' been," he said, "but I wouldna admit it twer it me. Ye had better hope he doesna tell yer wife."

"What do you mean, I might have been, you potion-peddling pipsqueak!" shouted Malfoy. "You just saw the man! What was he doing here?"

"Ah ha' no wish te be insulted in ma own shop," hissed Igor, enjoying himself immensely. "Th' man could ha' be anybody! Merlin's sake, man, ye be in an Apothecary in Knockturn! Didna ye ever think o' Polyjuice? Glamours? Ne wonder ye canna keep yer wand in hand! Ne wonder ye dinna ha' th' sense to disguise yerself!"

Lucius bristled, refusing to admit that the man did have a point. Naturally, the one who had just so easily disarmed him couldn't possibly have been the same man who babbled about ancient history and served cones to students. Somebody was trying to make him do something stupid - like murder an innocent man and get himself incarcerated again.

Taking a deep breath, he snapped, "Your poison didn't work. I paid you well and you had my oath. You broke your word."

Karkaroff pretended to be taken aback. "It didna work? He canna have had an antidote - nobody has an antidote."

"I gave it to him, he drank it, and he is still alive," snarled Malfoy.

"Did ye do it like ah told ye?" demanded Karkaroff. "You slipped it into tea?"

"Into a glass of wine," snapped Lucius. "Instead of dropping dead he complained about feeling a bit heady!"

Karkaroff gave an elaborate sigh. "Well, ye canna expect it to work like tha'!" he said. "The alcohol must ha' been high enou' te dull it, cloak it ye might say. It'll nay do anything tha' way but make him dizzy."

"You didn't warn me there were solutions which would neutralize its effects!" snapped Lucius. "You told me this was your finest, most insidious Poison - and it's been neutralized by a glass of wine!"

"Tha wanted my best as could fool a Master," corrected Igor. "Ma most delicate. Ah'll have ye know nout a soul knows the formula! 'Tis tasteless, overrides each an' every detection Charm - "

"But he didn't die!" shouted Malfoy.

"You should ha' given it tae him as Ah was telling ye to!" snapped Karkaroff right back. "A delicate fine thing a Poison is! Tha canna drop it into anything, like a spice - Ah told yeh to put it in his tea. Told ye it was a finicky brew - tha should ha' asked if yeh didna understand!"

Lucius took a deep breath to compose himself. Not only hadn't his poisoning attempt worked, but he had also been threatened by Florean Fortescue - or someone posing as him - and to add insult to injury, the man he considered responsible for his failure was berating him.

"Will he have formed a tolerance? Can I use the same again?" asked Lucius.

"Not from me, ye canna," snapped Igor Karkaroff. "Nobody wastes my Potions! In his wine, Merlin's Toes! Never heard of a thing more stupid, didna tha take a Potions class in yer life! Have ye no knowledge at all of the Greatest of Arts? "

"Now look here," snapped Lucius. "I paid - "

"For a Poison, not an assassination," replied Karkaroff. "Ah gave yeh what tha paid for."

"I refuse to -" began Lucius.

"If Ah sell yeh ink, it be not my fault if tha lets it go dry, so it canna write," said Igor.

"Damnit, man!" shouted Lucius. "You mean to stand there and say it was my fault?"

Igor blinked at him and said quite calmly, "Aye."

"You'll brew me another," demanded Malfoy. "You will brew me another and if it doesn't work, so help me Cerberus, I'll -"

"Tha'll do nothing, Malfoy," said Igor. "Ah've given yeh what ye paid for. Nobody wastes a Potion of my brewing twice. Get out!"

"Hell's teeth!" swore Malfoy. "I refuse to be pushed about by a Knockturn Alley Philtremonger!"

"Ah refuse to be bullied in mah own shop by a blond idiot who canna tell a Potion from a piggin of Gryffin spit! Who let himself be tossed onto his gluteus maximus and disarmed by a clumsy Wizard with nary a wit of intelligence!"

Lucius drew his wand. "You have two choices. You give me what I want, or - "

The owner cut him off with an unpleasant, malevolent laugh. "Ye'll do nothing, Malfoy."

"Don't be so sure," snarled Lucius.

"Tha canna give a Poison," said Igor. "How would tha detect one? Ah've many friends."

"As apparently does Snape," snarled Lucius.

"Tha's another thing," hissed Igor. "Tha knew he was ma friend. Right foolish of yeh to admit it was him tha wanted teh kill."

"It's no business of yours what I use it for!"

"Then 'tis no business of mine makin' sure tha uses it properly," returned the Owner.

Lucius sucked in a breath. "You'll sell me another!"

The Owner's eyes glittered dangerously from behind his mask. "Nobody wastes a Potion of my brewing twice - especially teh kill ma friends. Get out"

Before Malfoy could think of a suitable retort, the Owner snapped his gloved finger. A purple wall of Magic came towards Lucius, slamming into his chest. A second later, he found himself sprawled outside the entrance of the shop in an undignified heap.

Enraged, Lucius tried to force his way back inside, only to be repeatedly repulsed by extremely strong Wards. Finally, tired, humiliated and defeated, he Disapparated to Malfoy Manner. He had a few questions for his wife.

XXX

Severus was glowering at the note in his hands. It had resisted each and every Detection Charm he had tried. His Nephew watched him with a bemused air.

"Give it a rest, Uncle Russ," Hubert said. "Why's it so important for you to know which one of your students sent you dinner?"

Severus sighed tiredly. "Because it might not have been a student. Considering the power required to Ward against Detection Charms it is almost surely not a student."

Hubert shrugged. "You've already proved that it isn't dangerous. Why is it so hard to believe that somebody just wanted to make sure you didn't miss dinner? Even if it wasn't a student, but one of your colleagues... what difference does it make?"

"None of them would dare," said Snape. "People don't do things like this without wanting something."

Hubert sighed in turn. "Uncle Russ, its quite simple. Either you eat it, or your pour it down the drain."

Snape glared at him. "Doesn't it enter your overly thick skull that they might have an ulterior motive? I'd have to be mad to ingest it."

"You've got to eat something," said Hubert reasonably. "I'm sure you're stomach is settled by now, and with what your system's been subjected to lately, you can't afford to miss a meal. You said yourself it was harmless."

Snape gave an exasperated gesture, glaring at the parchment in his hands.

"It won't give you the answer just because you're glowering at it," said Hubert. "What's upset you so much?"

"I have the distinct feeling that I'm missing something," sighed Severus. "It's niggling in the back of my mind."

"You'll find it," assured his nephew. "Eat something, get some rest."

Snape nodded. "Take care of your brother."

"Right," said Hubert, rising. "I had better get back before somebody tries to discover how I left my room with it locked on the inside. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," replied Snape, as Hubert Flooed off.

Alone at long last, Snape scowled at the parchment. He knew he had seen the handwriting before - but he saw so many samples of writing. Homework from countless students, letters from his myriad contacts.

He recognized only a handful of the students' writing, relying on the Detection Charms to prevent cheating. With a sigh, he resolved to compare the letter to the exams he had on file, and failing a match there, to his letters.

Tossing the offending parchment onto the table, he turned his attention to the tureen. It contained a dark soup, which was steaming and smelled quite appetizing. With a sigh, he scooped out a ladle-full and let it splash back slowly.

Something glittered.

Fishing the item out, he stared at it, nonplussed. It was a Sickle, or what was left of one, cut clumsily, a jagged triangle missing.

With a wry smile, he dried off the altered coin and turned it over in his hand.

"He'll want to reveal himself, then," he said to himself, "with the other piece."

He put the letter and the silver scrap carefully away, then turned back to his soup. His Spells declared it sound, and someone planning to reveal himself would hardly try to harm him. With a sigh, he began to eat.

XXX

Igor threw his head back and laughed until his sides ached. It had been too easy to goad Malfoy - and he had enjoyed the entire experience greatly.

Still chuckling, he gave a glance out of the window just in time to see Lucius storm down the street, yanking his hood over his head. Malfoy was so angry that he failed to notice that the man who knocked into him not only did so deliberately, but was Florean on his way back.

Shaking his head, Igor disarmed the door, just in time for Florean to enter.

As soon as the door was shut behind him, Florean too gave in to helpless mirth. For a moment, they simply leaned against the door and laughed.

Finally, Igor pulled himself together enough to say, "That was a very stupid thing to do."

Fortescue nodded. "I'm afraid it was. You'd think I'd know by now to keep a low profile. It was just that he walked in here with that nose of his in the air..."

"Not to worry," said Igor. "I threw him off the scent - told him he was crazy if he thought you were really you."

"Thanks," said Florean. "Did he accept that?"

Igor nodded. "I think mostly to avoid the humiliation of being disarmed and intimidated by somebody who serves his son ice cream."

Florean began to laugh again. "Did you see his face?"

"It was even funnier when I berated him for ruining the Poison," chuckled Igor. "I thought he would explode!"

"Honestly, though," said Florean, sobering a little, "I do believe I ought to warn Severus. Narcissa and Rabastan were after a bit more than pudding."

Igor shook his head. "Lucius isn't stupid. He'll be watching you after this - if only to try to prove that you weren't you."

Florean nodded. "You're right. Correspondence is watched as it is, and it would look odd for me to write."

"Then I shall tell him," said Igor. "I have to see Severus about something as it is."

"Aren't they watching the shop?" asked Florean.

"To be sure," said Igor. "But they can't read what we write, and he orders enough material from here as it is."

The other man nodded. "Wish I could see Snape's face when you tell him that Narcissa is planning to get her overly manicured fingers on him..."

"I hope Lucius doesn't pester her too much about what you said," said Igor abruptly. "I happen to rather like her."

"Like her?" repeated Florean, nonplussed. "She's not only plotting to have her own husband murdered, but she's -"

"Yes, yes, I know," said Igor. "Still, once must admire a woman with ..."

"Lethal tendencies?" hazarded Florean.

"Gumption," said Igor decidedly.

XXX

Lucius kicked the House Elf who was waiting to take his boots. The Elf hit the wall with a thulk, and watched with dull eyes as his master's silver heels clicked from the room, leaving muddy half circles on the floor.

Lucius stomped towards the west wing, shrugging out of his cloak. He tossed his hat aside carelessly, narrowly missing a Ming vase.

The House Elf scurried after him to take care of the discarded clothing, then hurried towards the kitchens, not wanting to be the one punished for the mud their master was tracking about.

Flinging open the door to the library, Lucius found his wife reclining on the sofa with a cup of tea and a novel.

She looked up and blinked at him. "Have you lost something?"

"My patience!" he snapped. "I'll have you know that have an extreme dislike of hearing from other parties about your philandering in Diagon Alley!"

"My dear," she said, "I do believe if anybody was 'philandering', it wasn't me."

"Damnit, don't play word games with me now!" he shouted. "What the devil were you doing this morning?"

"I went to talk with an old friend, over hot chocolate," said Narcissa mildly.

"Who?" demanded Lucius.

"Rabastan Lestrange," replied his wife. "He wanted to talk about Bellatrix."

"Bellatrix?" asked Lucius. "What about her?"

"She's a bit out of sorts, you know, Love," she said. "He was worried about her. We also talked about Draco, the Dark Lord, and a few other mutual acquaintances."

"Like Severus?" he snarled.

She blinked. "Severus?" she asked blankly. "Oh, yes, he came up - Rab said something about him looking a bit under the weather lately. Asked if I knew anything."

"And did you know anything?"

Narcissa sipped her tea. "I just said it was understandable - he was rather close to Igor."

Mentioning Igor didn't bring the guilty look into his face she expected. Disappointed, she tried again.

"I think it's possible he still thinks the man's alive somewhere, considering there never was a body..." she sighed. "Then, I suppose something or other finally made Severus accept the fact that Igor is dead."

"That's all you discussed?" Lucius pressed. "Everything?"

She shrugged. "Everything relevant. Why? Whose been filling your head with tales of philandering?"

He grimaced, still furious and embarrassed about what had happened in Knockturn Alley. "Don't bother your head about it, my dear," he said. "It wasn't important."

Narrowing her eyes, she watched him turn and leave, the door slamming behind him. Narcissa wasn't at all surprised that somebody had seen her in Diagon Alley as she made it a point to be noticed wherever she went. What was surprising was that somebody had managed to eavesdrop on at least a part of her conversation - why else would Lucius mention Severus?

With a frown, she considered the possibilities. The place had been crowded, and anybody with a bit too much curiosity could have reversed the Charm, albeit with some difficulty. She thought, however, that they either hadn't heard everything, or hadn't told her husband everything. After all, he would hardly be allowing her to sip tea if he knew what she was planning.

It had probably been some gossip causing trouble, she decided. She turned her attention back to her book with a contented sigh, "No one important."

***Unanswered Letters***

Philomena sipped her tea contentedly. It was early morning and she knew it would most probably be hours before her father was up. With a sigh, she reread the letter she had received the previous week:

Philomena,

Your lack of response to my last six letters troubles me. I sense that you are safe, but your lack of communication is a cause for concern - as is your neglect of your usual donation.

I am sure that Lupin has told you the truth of your parentage by now. If this is your reason for shunning me, rest assured that I never wished anybody harm by what I have done - only made the best of things that could not be changed.

I am equally sure that he has noticed your unusual aging pattern - some operative of his did see Mort and Bob on their last attempt at a visit, causing them great distress and demanding the details of your treatment. These he received, though I am sure nothing can be done with what little information he gained.

Surely, you cannot believe that I attempted to do you any harm. I have only ever done what I thought was best. Should you come to maturity the Ministry would surely become aware of the existence of a Seer - or at least of a Witch should it be that your Gift not be retained. Their system for managing Prophesies and Seers is intolerable, and until a way around it can be found it is imperative that you remain as you are.

Perhaps you believe you have reason to be upset with me. One might say I kept you too closely confined, or that I lied to you or hurt you - but can you deny that you flourished in my care? If there were any way I could have taken you with me I should never have sent you away.

Please believe me when I say that it pained me greatly to send you away. Know that you have always been first in my heart.

I shall send one of my friends to look in on you, to be sure that you are treated well and are safe, if you do not reply to this letter by Thursday.

Tread safely,
Uncle Ralf

She had debated telling her father about the letter, but had decided that she would rather handle the situation herself, reasoning that Remus had quite enough to worry about as it was, and that she was far better at manipulating Ralf than he was.

The task of answering, however, had proved quite difficult. In spite of spending hours in composition, she had discarded each letter, never satisfied with the results

"I've put it off too long," she thought, "let's hope it was an empty threat."

She tapped her chin, casting a glance at Remus' door. "I'll tell him it arrived late if anybody does come," she said to herself. "Wouldn't be a stretch considering how foggy it's been."

"Hypocrite," she said aloud tossing the letter to the table. "All for my own good, indeed. As if he hadn't fooled the Ministry before. They haven't noticed anything at any rate - or they'd have noticed the Gift at its first onset, or even my birth."

Can you deny that you flourished in my care?

Had she? Yes, before the Gift had manifested itself, Ralf had been a devoted guardian. She could not complain of her early years. It was only when she began to exhibit the first signs of Precognition that she had discovered his sinister side.

She sighed, and stared out the window watching the fog swirl, lost in thought.

At first, they had continued as they had been, excepting for her sudden and incontrollable Visions. When it became increasingly clear that her Visions were sporadic and there was no telling their accuracy, however, he had tried various ways of perfecting her Gift.

"He just found out there was more in it for him if he kept me in Stasis rather than let me mature fully," she muttered bitterly, "He didn't want to risk the possibility that I could lose the Gift, either."

The Wards rang out, startling Philomena so badly that she spilled her tea in her lap.

"Drat it all!"

Shoving cup and saucer to the windowsill, she grabbed a nearby dishtowel and tried to dry the stain with little success.

Remus stumbled into the kitchen, wand drawn, blinking the sand out of his eyes.

Philomena froze. "I - I spilled - spilled my tea," she stammered.

"Desicco," Remus muttered, flicking his wand at her robes. They dried instantaneously.

"It's stained," she said ruefully, staring at the resultant spot.

"Nothing for it," said Remus. "Tea is tea."

"Cast Abluo," she said.

"You want me to cast a Charm I don't know in my sleep?"

"The Wards startled me," she explained, feeling very stupid. "I can't."

"You were awake at least," said Remus. "Circe's cat! Who would come at six am?"

Philomena shrugged, and demonstrated the Wand movement with her wrist. "Abluo. Please?"

"All right," he said, "but don't blame me if it's ruined for life.

He cast the Charm gingerly, and the stain disappeared. She gave a grateful smile.

"Didn't the Wards say who it was?" she asked, gathering up the letter and pocketing it as she went to get her father's dressing gown from it's hook on the inside of his door.

Remus frowned. "No one they recognized, so nobody that's been here," he said. "Unless somebody's been sent, or..."

She held out the dressing gown for him and he transferred his wand from hand to hand as he shrugged into it. Philomena fussed with the collar, and finally tied the sash. "Can't be seen by possibly hostile company in your pajamas," she said with a smile. "And put your slippers on before you catch a cold."

He sent her a glare. "Since when are you my mother and not the other way 'round?"

She tried to mask her increasing nervousness by going to fetch his slippers.

Remus peered through the window, catching sight of a figure slowly making his way towards the cottage through the fog, and forced himself to loosen his grip on his wand. Clutching impaired one's wrist movement, after all.

"Here you are, father," said Philomena, returning and setting his wool slippers by his feet.

"Thank you, Love," he said, stepping into them. "Is there any tea that you haven't spilled over yourself?"

She scowled at him. "Yes there is - and don't make fun of me, or I shall hide your sugar."

"And I'll Accio it right back," he returned. "Will you get me a cup? I don't want to deal with an intruder decaffeinated."

She smiled, and poured him a cup, adding his usual sugar. "You'll have to reheat it yourself," she said as she handed it to him. "I'm too nervous to cast."

"It's probably somebody who's lost their way," said Remus, not even believing it himself. "Probably looking for Rancotset Way."

He took the tea with his left hand, sipped it, grimaced, and cast the Warming Charm before taking a deep gulp.

Philomena took a deep breath and seated herself on the edge of the kitchen table. "Probably."

"Whoever it is, they're unarmed," said Remus, "but not particularly happy."

Moments later, the figure arrived at the door and knocked quickly.

Remus opened the door a crack. "Yes?"

"Mr. Lupin?" asked the stranger. "The name's Mort. I've been sent to discuss something."

"Who sent you?" demanded Remus.

"Ralf," said Mort. "Didn't he owl?"

"He did not," said Remus, "but talking in the door like this is causing a horrid draft. Step in."

Mort stepped inside and Remus shut the door. "Do put your wand away, Lupin," he said. "I've just come to talk."

Remus moved so that he was between the other man and Philomena, and relaxed his wand arm by his side. "About what?"

"She hasn't been answering her letters," said Mort, crossing his arms and leaning against the door. "And he's worried."

"What letters?" asked Remus.

"He sent a fair few," said Philomena looking at her hands.

"Well, then," said Mort, "Why didn't she answer them?"

"Maybe she didn't have anything to say," said Philomena quietly.

"She could at least let him know she hasn't been eaten yet," sniped Mort. "Honestly, you could let her at a parchment and quill for at least a minute. Have you even been letting her read them?"

"She's read them," said Philomena.

Remus was starting to feel a bit out of depth, and tried to regain control of the situation. "What letters? What does he want?"

"He wants," said Mort, "for her to assure him that she is well, and for her to explain why she hasn't sent her usual ... fulfilled her usual daughterly duties."

"She shan't be giving any more blood," snapped Remus. "It won't be worth a thing to him, not now anyway."

"Please, ma'am," said Mort, turning his attention to Philomena, "just let me talk to your girl for a few minutes? She knows me, and we're good friends from a while back. If she doesn't get her treatments and so on she'll be in a bad way, and I'm sure you wouldn't want -"

"She has no need of your treatment," interrupted Philomena. "And she does not consider you a friend."

"You can't know that until you ask her, ma'am," said Mort. "Please, just a minute or two."

With a start, Remus realized that Mort hadn't recognized her, having last seen her as a child.

"There's no need to ask," said Philomena. "You can tell Ralf she doesn't wish to speak to him."

"That's a bit harsh, don't you think?" asked Mort. "After all, he is her father, and -"

"She's mine," snarled Remus. "He gave her up and he can't have her."

"Please calm down, sir," said Mort. "I know you were upset by her ... condition, shall we say. Your man made that quite clear, but -"

"What man?" demanded Remus.

"Your messenger," said Mort. "Took my Wand, he did. Threatened us something terrible - even made me take Veritaserum! He -"

"I think he means Severus," interrupted Philomena. "He did go to find out the Formula and so on."

"Damn the man," said Mort bitterly. "Caused us no end of trouble. Didn't even have the decency to give an Antidote when he'd finished."

"All that aside," said Remus impatiently, "what exactly did Ralf send you for?"

"To see the girl," said Mort just as impatiently. "To see her and to talk to her, make sure she's all right and if possible get the damn donation before the contract runs out."

"What contract?" asked Philomena, eyes narrowing.

"Never mind that, now," said Mort. "Is the girl up? Can I see her?"

"I am and you are," said Philomena dryly.

"What do you mean you ..." Mort trailed off, eyes widening as he realized what she meant. He looked her up and down amazedly. "You... how did you... how did he...good God."

"Your work and his has been undone," Philomena said. "So you may tell Uncle Ralf that there's no good his asking for my blood since it isn't standard any more. It won't work as he likes. It's been altered too much when the Stasis was ... reversed."

Mort was still staring stupidly at her. "But it was supposed to be impossible," he said. "Ralf said it was impossible."

Philomena smirked. "For him, yes."

"But not for your friend with the crooked teeth and Veritaserum?" asked Mort. "What was his name? Senicus?"

Remus bared his teeth at him. "Stop staring at her," he growled.

"Sweet Sprite of Sicily - they've ruined you," said Mort, ignoring Remus.

She gave a curt nod. "Precisely."

"But - the Ministry!" protested Mort. "What about the Ministry?"

She gave a shrug. "Useless as ever. I've not been documented if that's what you're asking."

"Documented? What are you talking about?" demanded Remus. "And stop looking at her like that."

"The Ministry - surely you know - keeps a record of every Prophesy made by a Seer having reached their full power. They have sensors for that kind of thing - they'd know what she was, and then they'd have come 'round to put all sorts of Monitoring Spells on her and whatnot, and -"

"Stop babbling," snapped Philomena. "Clearly, I have either found a way around the Ministry, or the Ministry is not quite as omniscient as you seem to think."

"It's impossible!" shouted Mort.

"One could also say it's impossible for Ralf's business to survive," she returned. "Now, it so happens that you're spoiling my breakfast. Please leave."

Mort laughed dryly. "You still bluster about when you're frightened, don't you?" he sneered. "I've enough to tell Ralf at any rate, so I'll no longer ... spoil your breakfast. Good day."

With a mocking nod, he slipped out the door and disappeared down the walk.

Remus turned and gave his daughter a halfhearted glare. "I believe you have a bit to explain."

***Sweets and Tea for Three***

Come join me for tea in my office.
Albus

The note looked harmless, but Severus knew better than to believe that tea was all that the headmaster had in mind. Crumpling the note in his fist, he swooped from his office where had been correcting Third Year homework, and made his way towards the Headmaster's office.

He was surprised and a bit concerned when Madame Pomfrey turned into the corridor, and fell into step beside him.

"Headmaster ask you to tea?" she asked.

Snape nodded.

"Me as well," she said. "Any idea what he's about?"

Snape glowered. He hated useless and flippant conversation. "Nobody ever has an idea what he's about."

"I presume it has something to do with your health," she said. "After all, you apparently had a bit of an accident the other day."

"That is none of your concern," he snapped.

"Apparently, the Headmaster believes it to be," she said.

Snape scowled, hoping the nurse would not persist in trying to talk to him.

"You never did tell me what happened to you on Halloween," she said, "and, frankly, dear, you aren't looking well."

"I don't ever look well."

"You look worse, then," she said tartly. "Have you been getting enough sleep?"

"Have you been getting enough patients to keep yourself occupied?" he snapped, adding the password under his breath as they reached the gargoyle.

"I'm simply trying to look out for my colleagues," she said. "If you're in need of medical advice, even if you won't allow me to look after your actual treatment..."

"Yes, yes," he said impatiently, closing his eyes and leaning against the newel as it began to slowly turn, causing the stairs to spiral upwards with it. The stairs always made him dizzy, and closing his eyes helped a bit.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

He managed to scowl with his eyes shut. "Headache."

She sighed, and muttered, "Could have just said so."

The staircase ground to a halt. Severus opened his eyes and stepped onto the landing with a barely perceptible wobble. Pomfrey hopped lightly passed him and rapped smartly on the Headmaster's door, bringing the lion shaped knocker down with a robust clang.

Severus squeezed his eyes shut again; any other man would have winced.

The door swung open to reveal Dumbledore grinning behind a shining silver tea service on his desk.

"Good afternoon," said the Headmaster.

"Some people don't seem to think so," sniped Pomfrey, as she took the chair with the deeper cushions.

Severus sat with out a word, accepting the cup of black tea handed to him.

"With sugar, my dear Poppy?" Dumbledore asked unnecessarily, handing her the cup he had already prepared.

She smiled as she took it and balanced it precariously on the arm of her chair.

The Headmaster pushed a plate of biscuits towards their side of the desk. "I've called you up to have a bit of a chat about Harry Potter."

"Harry?" asked Pomfrey, nonplussed. "But I thought - "

Severus sent her a sidelong glower, sipping his tea. "His lessons progress as usual." he said.

"Is the boy ill?" asked Pomfrey concernedly. "You've let him do something horrid and reckless and stupid again haven't you?"

Albus twinkled. "Now, dear, I only do that once a year."

"Get to the point, Headmaster," growled Severus.

Albus looked impassively over his spectacles at Snape. "Headache?"

"I haven't had time to retrieve a Draught for it between my last class and this!" snapped Severus. "Just tell us what that infernal child did this time and what the two of us have to do with it."

"You suggested last meeting that the boy had to be allowed from the Castle, that the security in place was both useless and cruel," said Albus.

Severus nodded stiffly.

"He really ought to be out in the sun a bit more," said Pomfrey. "It would help for him to replace the exercise he's missing from Quidditch, though I can't say I'm sorry he's out of the path of Bludgers and such."

"Are the benefits worth the risks, though?" asked Albus innocently, sipping his overly milky tea.

Severus knew very well that the Headmaster was trying to make him agree to teach Harry extra Defense lessons by forcing him to suggest the idea himself. He decided to play along, considering that as he was already giving the lessons, it would be well to make them official, not to mention that the boy would be better off with a bit more room to maneuver.

"Perhaps," he murmured slyly, "if he were in the company of a teacher..."

"He has the option as it is and doesn't use it," said Poppy. "He's entirely too considerate of other people's time."

"If any child other than Potter were even half as inconsiderate as he is, they'd have been expelled twice over," snapped Severus, with the sole intention to be difficult.

"If he were given a reason, other than his personal well-being, he would be more inclined to leave the Castle," said Poppy. "After all, the only other reason that he stays in the Castle is the fear that he might draw his friends into danger were he attacked outside."

Dumbledore hummed a bit as he contemplated which sweet to choose next.

"We could kill two birds with one stone and give him extra Defense Lessons," suggested Snape, wanting the meeting over as soon as possible.

"Do you think he's able?" asked Dumbledore. "It could be a strain, considering -"

"Merlin's Toes!" swore Severus. "You've sent the boy against a possessed and insane Wizard when he was eleven. A few little lessons can't possibly -"

"I don't understand why you'd think it a strain," said Poppy simultaneously, "he's practically jumping out of his skin for something to do since you took away his Quidditch!"

Albus cheerfully bit the head off a Necromancer Nugget. "It was suggested he receive lessons," he said, "but I doubt they're advisable, after all, he's about to take his Newts, and he's only just recovering from a nasty bout of the Uncommon Cold."

"What cold?" demanded Snape, just as Pomfrey said, "He wasn't even sick for a whole day!"

Albus twinkled, while Severus and Poppy exchanged perplexed looks.

"Stoats, Albus! It was just a sniffle, not Thestral Pox!" said Poppy. "Honestly, I'm beginning to think Severus is right - you do treat the boy like a piece of unspelled glass."

Albus merely munched.

"The only problem he could possibly have is lack of condition, as he's not been flying outside of class," said Pomfrey, "and that'll come back in no time if Severus is his usual unforgiving self."

"So you say it would actually be good for him?" prompted Albus.

Pomfrey nodded curtly. "Keeping him on his toes is the best thing at the moment, both to develop the reflexes and skills that he needs and to stop him from moping."

"Moping?" asked Albus innocently, nibbling at his Nugget.

"Yes," said Poppy. "You'll have to admit that he withdrew into himself after his Godfather's death. He's hardly recovered from the shock and the traumatic stress of the event, not to mention the fact that you've banned him from leaving the Castle. You stopped his flying, which is one of his greatest passions, and he's feeling confined, and -"

"I don't have time to listen to you psychoanalyze the boy!" snapped Severus. "I think he's recovered, in fact, he's not withdrawn, he has simply matured."

"But you do agree that he shouldn't be confined into the Castle," said Albus, "you mentioned that last Meeting. You also mentioned his claustrophobia; you appeared quite concerned."

Pomfrey laughed derisively. "Probably because he dislikes the boy being underfoot day and night."

"I'll give him the lessons," snapped Severus. "I agree."

"But, Severus," said Dumbledore bemusedly, "I haven't asked you to give any lessons."

Poppy barely suppressed a snort. "You were leading into it, Albus."

"Dear me," said Albus. "I must be getting transparent in my old age - do have a Lethifold Lollypop."

"Revolting things," said Poppy, grimacing at the skewered leathery mass Albus was offering her.

"Distraction shan't work," said Severus. "Do you, or do you not want me to give the boy lessons in Defense?"

Dumbledore stroked his beard for a moment, looking deep in thought. "I suppose..." he said. "Since you offered, yes."

Severus gave an exasperated sigh. "I'll keep you apprised."

"Doesn't the boy's opinion matter - shouldn't we talk to him?" asked the Matron.

"I'm sure the Headmaster will find a way to convince him to be in my office tomorrow at six in the evening, ready to travel," said Severus, setting his empty cup back on the tray and rising. "I am equally sure he will manage that the boy remain unseen and knows we are going to Merlin's Rill."

"You seem to have this planned," said Poppy, looking at him with a curious mixture of surprise and confusion.

"And you think the Headmaster has not?" Severus asked sarcastically. "If I might be permitted to leave...?"

Albus nodded. "Thank you, Severus. The boy shall be told."

"Good day, then."

With a curt nod to each of them, Snape left the office, shutting the door with a snap. A moment later, they heard the grinding squeal of the stairs descending.

Dumbledore let out a sigh of relief.

Pomfrey sipped her tea as though just remembering that she had it and asked, "Is he all right?"

"He is better than he was," said Albus sadly. "I met his Healer."

"Competent?" asked Poppy.

"Yes," said Albus, "but very young."

"How young?" asked Poppy.

"About twenty," said Albus. "And a Muggle."

"Is the man insane?" asked Pomfrey. "Someone that young couldn't possibly have finished any sort of Muggle medical training, and as for being able to treat some supposedly extremely rare and troublesome Magical condition -"

"I trust you'll keep this confidential," said Albus, "but I ... looked in ... on him while they were occupied. He is no stranger to Magic. I have never seen the things he did - afterwards he told me what had been done, but his terminology is nothing I've heard before. I've not been able to find it in any reference..."

"So because of a bit of flashy work and some incomprehensible jargon you assume he's a genius?" demanded Pomfrey. "Damnit, Albus, the man is putting his life into the hands of somebody who can't possibly be qualified."

"It takes more than flashy work to revive a man from what must have been nearly a coma," said Albus gravely.

"A coma?" asked Pomfrey. "I don't understand - what happened to induce a -"

"He lost consciousness several times," said Albus, "due to his ingestion of a toxin, which was meant to be an Antidote, but apparently reacted badly due to some anomaly concerning his blood composition. It resulted in reduced ... well, the Healer called it Energy, but the Monitor showed a decrease in Magic."

"His Magic level dropped?" shouted Poppy. "That's impossible! Insane! It only drops when the patient is dying."

Dumbledore nodded. "I know. The Healer not only told me that Severus had been in no mortal danger, but apparently - you'll understand I cannot tell you from whom - transferred Magic from another source to save his life."

"That's impossible!" insisted Madam Pomfrey. "It's never been done!"

"Just because something has never been done," said Dumbledore, "does not mean a way may not yet be found."

"How did he do it?" demanded Pomfrey. "What did he do? You're telling me some Muggle boy managed to do what our Alchemists, MediWizards, Healers, and Mages have failed for millennia?"

Albus nodded and bit into a biscuit, which shattered and covered his beard in crumbs. "Odd, isn't it?"

"Odd?" repeated Pomfrey. "Odd! A boy - a Muggle, - defies every known law of Metaphysics, transfers Magic, saves a man whose Magic was leaving him, and all you can think of to say is odd?"

Albus wiped his beard with an enormous lime green handkerchief. "Well, it isn't quite so odd once you think about it."

"Isn't quite so odd," repeated Pomfrey weakly. "I think I need more tea."

"Gladly, gladly," said Dumbledore with a twinkle in his eye, taking her cup and refilling it for her, "you see, I've seen a Magic level manipulated before - I just didn't realize that that was what I was seeing."

Pomfrey took a fortifying gulp of tea. "Albus," she said, "you mean to sit there, and tell me, that you've seen this sort of thing before?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Tell me, Poppy," he said, "what does Avada Kedavra really do?"

"It kills," said Pomfrey shortly. "Irreversible, sudden, death."

"Yes, but how," stressed Dumbledore. "How does it kill?"

"It stops the vital organs from functioning, instant death," she replied.

"Yes, yes," said Dumbledore, "but a man whose breathing has stopped can be revived, can he not? As can one whose heart has stopped beating for a time. What makes death by Avada Kedavra so sudden and absolute?"

"It... separates the soul," said Pomfrey slowly.

Albus nodded. "So does the Dementor's Kiss - but those victims continue to live."

Pomfrey made an exasperated motion. "I don't know," she said, almost frantic. "I don't understand!"

Albus sighed. "Avada Kedavra works by intent. The intent of the Caster is to stop life. It does so by stopping everything sustaining life. As you say, the Soul is separated; the vital organs are stopped. What happens to the Magic?"

"It dissipates," said Poppy, "as in any ... sweet Merlin! You mean that the loss of Magic isn't the result but the cause of death? That the Curse annihilates it?"

"Why is it harder to believe that the Curse might destroy Magic than it is to believe that it destroys life?" asked Albus. "Never mind," he added quickly, when he saw she was about to answer, "the point is that there is a curse which does affect Magic itself."

Pomfrey shook her head violently. "No - no, you're making a mistake," she insisted. "You're looking for something so you see it all over the place. If that were right you could use Avada Kedavra to ... I don't know ... create a Squib, if your Intent were strong enough. But you can't."

Albus nodded slowly, "Yes," he said, "but -"

"Avada Kedavra with the intent to kill results in instantaneous death," interrupted Pomfrey. "This results, as with any other death, in the cessation of organ function, the separation of the soul, and the dissipation of Magic. It's not strange that death by a Curse be instantaneous and absolute - there are other causes, Magical and natural, that are just as swift."

The corner of Albus' mouth twitched, as though he were trying not to smile.

"I don't know what your monitor recorded, but there must have been something that interfered, or you misread it, or it was malfunctioning," said Pomfrey, having calmed back to her usual crisp state. "Which isn't too much of a surprise, considering that you said it self-destructed yesterday and the man is still alive. I don't know what the Muggle did that you thought was a transfer of Magic, but considering that he is a Muggle he can't have had any effect on the Magic whatsoever. Something happened to revive Severus, but whatever it was, it certainly wasn't a transfer of somebody else's Magic."

"I suppose you must be right," he said lightly. "No matter."

"After all that, he says, 'no matter,'" repeated Pomfrey. "The children are right. You are mad."

"Perhaps," said Albus, "perhaps. And perhaps we are wrong, and the Muggle is right."

"Perhaps the moon is made of green cheese after all," said Pomfrey snidely.

Albus smiled slyly. "Perhaps it is."

"You've got me completely muddled," she said, almost crossly. "We were talking ... we were talking about Severus' health. And when I pointed out how inappropriate and foolish his choice of a Healer was, you told me some ridiculous story about Magic being transferred and Avada Kedavra and..."

Albus popped another sweet in his mouth, looking for all the world like four year old caught at some forbidden game.

"Well, I stand by what I've always said," said Poppy, "I don't care if his Healer is a twenty year old Muggle who can raise the dead or a fully qualified MediWizard who graduated Summa Cum Laude from Vardwizhar - it's dangerous the way he's set things."

"It's his right," said Albus. "He's permitted to have a personal Healer."

"It's also his right to swim nude in the lake," said Poppy, "but you wouldn't allow that either."

"Not nude, no," said Albus, "the students, you know, impressionable minds... but in the lake, yes."

"Not the point," snapped Pomfrey. "It's a foolish thing for him to put himself needlessly in more danger."

"My dear Poppy," said Albus, "if I forbade my staff from doing foolish things they would hardly do anything. All actions are foolish from certain points of view."

Pomfrey sighed. "I should have known better than to try and have a serious conversation with you."

Dumbledore nodded. "No matter," he said. "Some Chocolate-covered Chizpurfles?"