Avenging Fire

Helena never did manage to get to sleep. Not that she had given it much of an effort. After a long pace, an even longer soak in the bath, and then a thorough rifle through the wine and spirits she’d brought from home and with long pulls from several of them, she still couldn’t relax.

You could have killed him.

She even brought out her sabre and did a bit of shadow fencing. Nothing seemed to work. Tossing the sabre on her bed, she decided to sit down and actually read Gavin’s book that supposedly would tell her everything she needed to know about what she was. She was surprised at herself that she hadn’t devoured his book straight away. Manifesting as a Paranormal should have been earth shattering enough to cause anybody to want to learn about the phenomena. Perhaps it was because it hadn’t sunk completely in yet. Most likely it was because she was still a bit afraid of it. Not the fear one has of the unknown, but the fear of possessing something that could quite possibly loom out of control. Much like what almost happened earlier.

Dutifully, she had been practicing like Gavin told her, but she felt somehow disconnected from her own manifestations, like it was accomplished only by rote memorization. Take a moment, concentrate, and then poof! It just seemed it should be more phenomenal, more…what, magical? Maybe that was how it was supposed to feel, she thought. The witches and wizards in her family couldn’t really describe in detail the processes of their own magic for that matter.

“Apart from the incantations and wand movements, you just…do it.”


But even the incantations and specific wand movements might not be necessary according to Steffen. Once her brother became a Spells Master, he began researching an innovative approach to magic. Because their father was a Geological scientist, both Helena and Steffen were quite knowledgeable of Geological theory at a young age. Steffen thought that the Earth’s electromagnetic field could be harnessed and channeled. He had been confident that if he could develop a method for this, magic could uncouple from archaic incantations and perhaps even the wand itself.

She remembered how he used to rant and rave, pacing the floor animatedly. Helena always thought that if he would have worn a long, white lab coat during his rants, he would have looked like the stereotypical mad scientist.


“Think of it, Hel! If I’m successful, this could be the first theory of magic in over a millennia that is based on scientific principals! The applications could be endless! At least it’ll finally drag the wizarding world into the present day. Magical theory hasn’t changed much at all since ancient times and not only that, they’re happy to keep it that way. Bloody traditionalists. So dismissive and afraid of anything that smacks of ‘Muggle.’ D’you know, a lot of the wizarding world still doesn’t believe men went to the moon! Even when you show them the proof they scoff and declare it ‘Muggle trickery.’ Xenophobic idiots!”


Nonetheless, Steffen had been undeterred and quietly worked towards developing a working theory based off his hypothesis that he had actually first conceptualized in his final two years at Hogwarts. By the time he was killed, he had acquired a massive amount of research materials and his own research notes filled several boxes. The family had carefully packed it all away as part of his legacy to his children.


Helena wondered if he had shared his ideas with any of the faculty and if so, what they had thought about it. She made another mental note to inquire of his old head of house, Filius Flitwick.


She ultimately convinced herself that the reason she had put off coming to grips with her recent Paranormal development was because shuffling through Hogwarts’ library was more important. If she wanted to get home, she had to understand what was happening so that perhaps a way could be found. This had then led her on a ridiculous, and now abandoned, quest to look for brass name plates.


Brass name plates? Honestly. You’re a poor detective you are. He could have a thousand name plates all over the castle. It doesn’t answer anything.


Flopping down in the armchair in front of the fire, she opened Gavin’s book and began to read. When the clock chimed the 9 o’clock hour, she realized that she had missed breakfast which was fine with her. She really didn’t want to face the faculty who had witnessed her not-so-little accident. When it chimed noon, she opted out of lunch too. When it chimed three, she remembered Poppy’s invitation to tea at four and closed the book.


Gavin had proven to be a decent and reader friendly writer. There were only three chapters left and she had to admit, she wished she had read the book straight off. The first quarter of the book was devoted to the history of Paranormals. Like her mother had mentioned in her letter, Paranormals had been used (or conscripted as Gavin described it), by non-magical people during the Separation Wars. During ancient times, long before the spread of the Abrahamic religions, the different branches of humanity co-existed harmoniously. But then, and no one really knows why, the harmony ended, culminating in a splitting of the world into two separate realms.


Into the magic one went the witches and wizards, taking along with them the creatures whose existences now are dismissed as myth, but whose faint echo can still be seen in ancient frescos, adornments on vessels, and inanimate clay fetishes. Into the other went those without magic, with their knowledge of the physical. Eventually each world developed according to its qualities; magic for one, and what would eventually become science for the other.

This had resulted in both worlds being thrown into their own versions of the Dark Ages. Those with magic had little, if any, practical knowledge of agriculture, architecture, mathematics, what is now known as physics (to build lever and pulley systems amongst other mechanical systems), and military strategy against opposing kingdoms.

Those without magic had relied on the Magical’s talents to help in the building of civilization. The pyramids of Egypt, the Greek Parthenon, and the ancient Stonehenge could not have been feasibly built without magical assistance, even though modern non-magical academics have offered plausible hypotheses on how these ancient feats of architecture were accomplished.


The last bastion of the harmonious coexistence between the two worlds, the library at Alexandria in Egypt, that housed scrolls and codexes of magic alongside those of science, philosophy, and mathematics, was burned to the ground and its keeper of knowledge, Hypatia, was martyred by religious zealots of the new cult of Christianity which sprung from the barbarous loins of Bronze Age desert tribalists. When Mary was pregnant with the twins and she and Steffen were thinking of names, Helena’s father even suggested the name Alexandria and Steffen had readily agreed for the symbolism alone.


As much as the lack of knowledge of the physical brought on a Dark Age for the Magicals, religion was what sent the non-magical world into its own Dark Age and ensured that the rift in humanity would be maintained.

Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.


Helena already knew about the Great Separation and the splitting of humanity through reading her brother’s textbooks and other books belonging to her magical family members. Interestingly, no mention of Paranormals had been in any of them. Indeed, it wasn’t until her own emergence as one that she had even an inkling such people existed.


There had never meant to be intermingling between the two peoples, but obviously that hadn’t been honoured. Half-bloods or less had always existed, so consequently, Paranormals did too. Almost as if nature itself abhorred what humankind had wrought and worked to counter it, despite that frequently these blended humans were not fully accepted in either world. But then, nature always acts without regard for human endeavors.


The second quarter of the book concerned itself with what she was currently experiencing: traumatic first manifestations, physical side effects, gaining mastery over abilities, and incorporating a radically different self-concept and awareness. Reading antidotal experiences of Paranormals accidently harming those around them did nothing to dispel Helena’s anxiety however. Gavin had obviously put the antidotes in to persuade the reader that accidents early on were not intentional, but were the first clumsy steps of a toddler Paranormal.


The final third of the book that Helena had yet to read contained Gavin’s practical advice on how to blend quietly in with society to remain undetected, how to cope with disturbing mental images in the case of Pre and Post-Cognants, how to plausibly explain away instances of being seen in two different areas at the same time in the case of Bilocators, developing selective attention and learning to ignore internal Paranormal phenomena in order to function in daily life, and finally a moral appeal to all Paranormals reading the book to not use their abilities to harm or to give themselves an unfair advantage over their fellowman.


But the final section would have to wait. Poppy was expecting her for tea.


*&*&*&


“Just as I suspected. You never did sleep, did you? And, I know for a fact, you weren’t at breakfast or lunch.”

Poppy was standing with her hands on her hips beside her desk, her wand jutting out from her right fist. A tea service lay waiting. Helena offered a shrug of her shoulders and a twitch from one side of her lips as an explanation. The healer tisked and lifted her wand for a quick scan.


“I’m fine. Really.” Helena said, moving away from the tip of Poppy’s wand.

“Oh do stop worrying, will you? The only thing wounded on Argus was his pride. It wasn’t the first time he’s found himself the recipient of a good jolt from scaring the stuffing out of someone. You’d think he’d learn. At any rate, he’ll probably give you a wide berth from now on.”

“I suppose it’s for the best.” Helena said relieved. She found Mr. Filch entirely unpleasant.

Madam Pomfrey poured each of them a cup of tea and folded her hands on her desk as spoons magically stirred inside their cups. She looked at Helena hopefully.

“I must confess that I had somewhat of an ulterior motive in asking you to tea this afternoon.”

“Oh? What’s that?” Helena asked, eyeing the spoon and waiting for it to finish its task. She remembered the time during a family Christmas dinner when they were both in their early twenties that Steffen had enchanted a spoon so that it kept leaping off the table and trying to hang off her nose. Once she had caught it and wrestled it under control, she leaned over and bonked her brother on the head with the errant piece of flatware.


“I wanted to ask if you would mind terribly if I wrote about your case for ‘The Healer’s Quarterly’ journal.” Pomfrey handed the current quarter’s issue to Helena and pointed at a call for article submissions. “Mostly what I deal with as a school Healer is broken bones, enchanted candy mishaps, nervous stomachs, and students with buttocks transfigured onto their heads.”

Helena bit her lips together to prevent sniggering juvenilely when Poppy nudged her with an elbow.

“And considering the rarity of Paranormals, to have had the experience of caring for one at first manifestation…well, I think it would make for a very interesting article. I’ve asked the headmaster and he’s given his permission so long as I protect your identity.”

“Really? I…huh, I don’t know what to say! If you want to, sure. Do you need me to sign a consent?”

“We don’t do things like that. Your spoken permission is enough.”

“You have it then.” Helena then chuckled in amusement. “You know, I think I’ve written hundreds of case histories myself. I suppose it’s now my turn to have one written about me.”

“Is that what you did…er, do?” Poppy caught herself.

“I do a little bit of everything. Case assessments for the courts and hospitals. The clinic I work for is associated with the university and we work with the psychology department on some studies, so I do a little academic writing too. We also have an intern program for those doing their clinical rotations. I see some patients. I was going to put in for associate director of the intern program next year but now…”


“You’ll get back.” Poppy said, patting her arm. “I can’t wait to get started! I’ll outline my paper tonight after dinner which I expect you to be at! No good writing about how I was successful nursing a newly manifested Paranormal back to health if she then goes tits up on me.”


Despite the current emptiness of the infirmary, the shocking choice of phrase by Poppy caused Helena to choke on her tea as she burst into laughter.


*&*&*&

After perfunctory nods of greeting by Hogwarts faculty, Helena’s presence was subsequently ignored as the staff animatedly discussed the upcoming Quidditch match between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. This was a relief to Helena and after a quick I-told-you-nobody-would-mention-it glance from Poppy, Helena tucked into some braised chicken.

“You may as well pay me those 15 galleons now, Filius. My Puffs have got it in the bag!”

“Go on and pull the other one.” Flitwick snorted in response.

Her brother had never been one for Quidditch. This wasn’t to say that he didn’t appreciate the sport, or enjoy flying. Helena had always said that it was because Steffen often went against the norm. All young wizards, it was assumed, were highly interested in Quidditch. That alone would have caused Steffen to dig his heels in and go against the stream.


“It’s kind of pointless if you stop and think about it. I mean, no matter what you do, the game is over when the Seeker catches the Snitch, even if it’s only ten minutes into the match. The Snitch has a ridiculous amount of points assigned to it so even if your team is doing well enough, the moment some tosser catches it, game over. Now dueling…that’s another matter. Someone wins a wizarding duel it’s because of talent and razor sharp reflexes.”

Helena used to take great delight in goading her brother about his enthusiasm for wand-dueling since he was so reticent to go up against her in a bit of sabre fencing.

“Granddad paid good money for our fencing lessons and now because you’ve abandoned steel for wood, I could wipe the floor with you!” she would boast to needle Steffen into answering her challenge.

“In your deluded dreams maybe.”


“Please. You’re such a girl’s blouse. Five pounds says I can either disarm you or score a contact within the first couple of minutes.”


“Prepare for abject humiliation, Creepzilla.”

It always ended with Steffen a few pounds lighter in the wallet.


“Do you know much about Quidditch, Doctor?”

Helena snapped out of her reminiscing and looked up to see Sprout and Flitwick looking at her.

“Not so much. Steffen didn’t play and my cousins either didn’t try out, or weren’t good enough to be chosen.”

Professor Sprout’s eyes took on a devious gleam.

“The upcoming match is between my house and Ravenclaw. Perhaps you’d like to bet on Ravenclaw. Do you have any galleons? Not that it matters. I’ll take pounds. I’m not proud.” she said, thoroughly confident that Hufflepuff would emerge the victors.


“Pomona! Really now!” Professor McGonagall chided and Helena offered an apologetic half smile to decline the offer from Hogwarts’ resident bookie.

“Can’t blame a witch for trying.” Sprout huffed in return.

Flitwick regarded her for a moment, widened his eyes a little, and wagged a finger in her direction as if he was remembering something. Just as he was opening his mouth to voice his recollection, Sprout started in on how she thought Ravenclaw’s weakness lay with its Chasers while Flitwick rolled his eyes.

“Sorrie I’m late! Found some gnomes gettin’ into the cabbages. Had ta sort it out.” Hagrid said as he bustled in and squeezed in at the faculty table.

As Hagrid tucked a napkin in his collar, Helena remembered that she wanted to talk to him and find out why he had only spent three years at Hogwarts and to fill him in on what she had found so far. Biding her time, she returned to her own thoughts as Hagrid weighed in with his opinion on the upcoming Quidditch match.

Once the discussion died a natural death, Helena excused herself for the evening. Before making her exit, she leaned down to murmur in Hagrid’s ear. Snape, sitting to Hagrid’s left, attempted to listen in, curious as to what Dr. Nyx wanted with Hogwarts’ gamekeeper. As it was, he was only able to hear Hagrid’s purposely softened reply.

“…’round ten o’clock should be…done with…gnome traps.”

Dr. Nyx touched Hagrid’s shoulder in acknowledgement and started out of the Great Hall.

“Doctor! A word if you don’t mind.” Flitwick quickly patted his mouth with his napkin, excused himself as well and hurried to catch up with her.

“The Headmaster mentioned you brought a device with you and asked me if I would examine it and determine if I could find a way to make it work here. I completely forgot until this evening. You see, Peeves got into my office and completely turned it upside down. I just finished getting it sorted.”


Helena wondered if Peeves was another cat of Filch’s.

“Oh. Don’t worry, I forgot about it myself.”

“At any rate, come with me to my office and we’ll discuss it. Besides, I have something you might like to see!” Flitwick’s eyes twinkled.


Helena wondered what the head of Ravenclaw’s office looked like before this Peeves had gotten a hold of it. It reminded her of some her own University professors’; books and stacks of paper were everywhere and in no apparent order. Her own desk at the clinic often appeared as such, but like her and her professors, it obviously made perfect sense to the diminutive man. Flitwick motioned to a chair on the other side of his desk as he began shuffling through the papers on top of it.

“I taught your brother as you know, and when I was piecing my office back together, I found this!” Flickwick handed Helena a moving wizarding photograph of a number of students. “Front row, in the middle.”

There stood her then 16 year old brother, smiling at the camera and surrounded by housemates and friends, one of which had an arm propped casually on one of Steffen’s shoulders. Steffen’s hair at that point was just past his shoulders and he had begun growing his soul patch. And as was typical Steffen, his Ravenclaw tie was loose, giving him a rakish air. Helena watched the picture loop, her brother’s head turning towards another student and laughing at something that was said. On the other side of the photo was another group of students from a different house stood poised.

“That was taken by another Ravenclaw student shortly before a Quiz match. Thanks to your brother and his sponge memory, we won many matches. And, I also found this.” Flitwick handed Helena a piece of parchment.

The parchment appeared to be a memo written by Dumbledore and to Professor Flitwick. In it, Flitwick was advised to speak privately to Steffen about his use of underaged magic outside of school. Dumbledore had even referenced specific incidents that Helena remembered. Mostly because they were episodes of Steffen’s brotherly mischief that had been directed towards her. Torn between embarrassment and melancholic sentimentality, Helena just sighed and finally smiled, albeit a little sadly.

“I have to apologise for my brother, Professor. I’m sure he was a handful at times.”

Flitwick waved his hand dismissively. “It’s rather absurd that the Ministry insists on trying to enforce the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy in families such as yours. It isn’t like the wizard’s Muggle family members aren’t aware of the wizarding world, after all. Besides, trying to curb the natural inclinations of a witch or wizard youth is futile. You might as well ask the rain to stop falling. At least the Ministry turns a blind eye in most cases involving mixed families.”

After another long look at the photograph, Helena handed both items back to Flitwick who once again waved his hand. “You may keep those, Doctor. I’m sure, considering what…well, even little things such as these become precious.” he said kindly. “Now, about this device of yours, what is it?”

Helena explained the best she could about her laptop to a wizard that had very little dealings with the non-Magical world. Flitwick rubbed his chin.

“But it isn’t vital to me, I suppose. I don’t see how I will have much need of it here. I don’t want to take up a lot of your time. Steffen always said that while it’s possible to get electrical things to work in the wizarding world, it’s complicated to do so.”

“Yes but as he said, it is possible. The Ministry frowns on it of course. Misuse of Muggle Artifacts they call it. However, it won’t be as if you’ll parade around Hogsmeade, flashing it about. And, since you’re down in the sub-dungeons and away from all the ambient magic floating around, I think I can whip something up! Did you know your brother figured out how to enchant a contraband Muggle…Stare-E-Oh…I think it was called, when he was a student here? I remember I was in the Ravenclaw Common Room when I heard a horrible din coming from his dormitory. I of course ran in, thinking someone was teasing a Kneazle, only to find your brother and a group of his friends bouncing their heads to an appalling piece of what could only loosely be called music.”

Helena lowered her head to stifle her laughter. She and her brother loved rock and heavy metal music although they frequently argued over Jethro Tull versus Led Zeppelin or Megadeath versus Motorhead. She could however see how an insular wizard like Flitwick might not appreciate the genres. When Steffen had finished University and went to work for a spells research and development company, he had also enchanted a stereo with a cassette player for his office.

“The Wireless doesn’t play a lot of non-Wizarding music. You know me, I can’t live without my tunes. How can I develop new and original spells without Judas Priest? Dude.”

“I remember asking, ‘what in the name of Merlin’s hairy ears is that racket?’ I was told that it was a song about immigrants by some fellows who named themselves after a leaden type of balloon.” Flitwick shook his head.

Helena thought for a moment then broke out into laughter.

“He must have been playing ‘The Immigrant Song’ by Led Zeppelin then. Just be glad he wasn’t playing something by Motorhead!”

“At any rate, I confiscated the Stare-E-Oh until the end of term. My word! I’d never heard such a noise! Right then, why don’t I come to your quarters this weekend and take a look? Not promising anything, but we’ll see.”


&*&*&


After not sleeping the previous night, Helena was very tired and ready for bed however she sat in one of her quarter’s armchairs studying the photograph Flitwick had given her instead.

“I really miss you.” she said, watching the image of her brother loop endlessly in the same moment of time. “I wish I could ask you what to do.”

Her eyes strayed to other points in the photograph. She found Wizarding photographs highly distracting because of the movement. The other group of students in the picture didn’t move as frenetically as Steffen’s Ravenclaw teammates. They were more serious natured and obviously were trying to portray an air of self confidence. Since the photo was in black and white, it was difficult to tell which house they belonged to. She was just about to put the picture down for the night when her attention was drawn to a student in the other group.

The dark haired young man had apparently hidden himself as best he could behind his teammates. While everyone else in his group was looking towards the camera, his head was slightly bowed with his gaze upon the floor. At some point during the taking of the picture, the photographer must have called for him to raise his head.

“That almost looks like…but no, it couldn’t be. Could it?” Helena spoke aloud. She squinted at the young man and tried to imagine him taller, older, and after his aquiline nose had been broken once or twice. When she did, it became very obvious she was looking at a young Severus Snape.

Her first instinct was to run upstairs, pound on his office door, and demand that he relate his memories of attending school with her brother but she just continued to stare at his image. She wouldn’t have guessed that he and her brother were the same age. To her, he seemed much older than 37.

“He looks so…depressed.” she remarked to herself as his image looped and his head bowed once more. Naturally, this new surprise would have to be followed up on as well, but in the meantime, her eyelids were shutting on their own and she didn’t want to oversleep and miss meeting Hagrid tomorrow at 10 in the morning.

“Goodnight, Steffen. I’ll see you tomorrow.” she yawned as she put the photograph down.

----------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Never work in clinical research if you like to write! Sheesh.
Sorry for the slow update.

Thanks to all who have been following this story. Just to reiterate, Helena is 35 and her brother was two years older than her, and now she’s found out that Snape and her brother were cohorts at Hogwarts. I think JKR said at some point that there are around 1,000 students at Hogwarts.


Just in case any of you aren’t familiar with Led Zeppelin’s ‘The Immigrant Song’ (a sin!), you can listen to it here. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nBmueYJ0VhA
I’m sure you can imagine Flitwick running on his short legs up to the boy’s dorms to silence the music that Steffen undoubtedly played very loudly. Now tell me, what kind of wizard wouldn’t enjoy a song about the Vikings?


Sorry if this chapter was a little heavy on historical narrative but it was necessary.


Speaking of history, I mentioned the library at Alexandria (Egypt) and its librarian Hypatia. The library and her story is a very interesting (and infuriating) one. Carl Sagan even talked about her in his series Cosmos. An incomprehensibly vast amount of knowledge was lost during its burning. We can only imagine how much more advanced we might be had it not been destroyed by zealots of the then fairly new religion of Christianity. I consider her a feminist icon. If you’re interested…

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hypatia

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Library_of_Alexandria


Thanks again for all the reviews and encouragement!