Accidental Encounters

Chapter Two: The Familiar Face in the Unknown

It was the sudden change in temperature that always made Hermione disoriented after apparating. The Burrow had been sunny and warm and cosy, but here in the main street of Hogsmeade, a crisp breeze was causing her robes (her old school robes transfigured to look like plain black ones) to snap about her legs. The trees in the distance had lurched severely to one side, their leaves roaring. Above them on the horizon, Hogwarts sat serenely, not at all concerned by the gale that was blowing, or the angry dark clouds that had gathered along the sky.

Trying to shield her face from the approaching storm, Hermione hurried along the street, bypassing all of the familiar landmarks of her school days: Honeydukes, the Three Broomsticks, the jokeshop and of course, the bookshop.

Following the directions she had memorized from her orientation papers, she took a sharp turn next to the Apothecary, with the intent of heading up the side street. She was thwarted however, by a towering black figure blocking the path. She looked up, and found herself face to face with Professor Snape.

Hermione couldn’t help herself. She had a nasty tendency of just blurting out the first thing that came to mind, and this occasion was no exception.
“Professor! What are you doing here?”
“Good afternoon, Miss Granger. As it happens, I, too, am enjoying a summer break, and chose to enjoy this day of it in Hogsmeade. I trust you have no objections?”
Out of the classroom, out of the castle, Snape seemed different. Still quite prickly, certainly, but not quite so … nasty. He wasn’t really smiling down at her, but he had raised an eyebrow and was surveying her quizzically.
Hermione gaped a minute, and was formulating an apology that didn’t sound too contrite and student-like, when Snape spoke again.
“And if I may ask, what precisely are you doing, wheeling about Hogsmeade with half your worldly possessions in tow?”
The fact that she was tearing about Hogsmeade, carrying virtually everything she owned, suddenly seemed quite odd to Hermione, and she laughed a little. Snape looked surprised at this, and then wary.
Hermione replied, “I am on my way to my new job. I am based here in Hogsmeade, as it happens. Perhaps you could direct me. I am looking for Linpin Lane.”

Snape looked pained, as if he would rather not escort a young woman down a country lane. Still, Snape was still quite the gentlemen and took a bag from her. Just as Hermione felt her mouth begin to drop open in surprise, he turned back to her and said causticallShalShall we get on with it then? Lets not make a painful task even worse than it is already.” Same old Snape. Hermione met his eyes and forced herself to reply politetly, “Of course, Professor. I appreciate you putting yourself out for me.” And she strode on ahead of him, quite sure of where she was going, but not at all sure why she had even asked him for directions.

***

Snape caught up easily, and his long strides would have soon allowed him to overtake her except he measured his speed to hers. They walked along in silence, and had turned into Random Road when the Potions Professor broke the quiet.
“So tell me Miss Granger, how has your esteemed performance on the NEWTS led you to a career in the back streets of Hogsmeade? Someone with your skill should be in high demand in London, perhaps even overseas.”

Hermione didn’t miss the buried compliment, but chose not to comment on it right then. Instead she said, “I am working for the Ministry, with the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad. Specifically, I will be working in potions, taking care of thfectfects of any botched potions, whether from experiments, sabotage, carelessness … I am based in Hogsmeade with someone working in Tranfiguration and Apparition issues, and another working on Charms and Curses. We may be based here, but we are responsible for cleaning up all accidents in Northern England and Scotland.”

Snape simply raised his eyebrows again. “Interesting. The AMR Squad is an essential body of an otherwise useless Ministry. Without them, the world would be full of Mr Longbottoms. Tell me though, why did you choose to become the Potions Officer?”

Hermione almost smiled at him, wondering if she should take advantage of the opportunity to either stroke or destroy his ego. In the end, she told most of the truth.

“Potions has always been one of the my favourite areas of study. I had been planning, since sixth year, to purse a career in potions when I finished at Hogwarts, and this is really all that has come up. Teaching is not an option (here, Snape only blinked), research can’t support me, much as I would love it, and working in an Apothecary is not quite the same, don’t you agree?”

Snape nodded and said, “I do. And your reasoning is quite sound.”

They had turned into Linpin Lane, and Snape had stopped in front of an old, lean-to cottage.

“I wish you luck in your chosen career, and also in any research you may have the opportunity of undertaking one day.”

Hermione smiled again, but didn’t respond immediately. She was a little nonplussed by this different Snape. He wasn’t what you would call nice, but …. He had been quite the gentlemen. And out here, despite the wind and thunder and rapidly fading light, he looked strong and almost regal. The grim light had highlighted his features, including his prominent cheekbones and the flecks of grey-blue in the murky blackness of his eyes. It was the first time Hermione had seen him as a person, and not the feared, hateful Potions Master. It quite disconcerted her.

Snape, it seemed, was disconcerted also. He looked a little unnerved by the way Hermione had been looking into his eyes, as if she were examining the depths of his soul. The air between them, having been polite concern at best, had now gone back to being uncomfortable, and they both made to speak at once. Snape, however, simply nodded his head in an indication for Hermione to go first.

“Well,” she said, “thank you for bringing me here. And, of course, for your kind sentiments.”

Again, Snape looked uncomfortable. He looked up at the sky, where Hogwarts loomed impressively, and said, “Yes… Thank you, Miss Granger.”

And with that, he was gone.

***

Hermione was almost feeling regretful that Snape had left her side, for now she had to face this rundown cottage on her own. Heaving a sigh, and still feeling a little like a lamb on its way to death, she passed through the rickety wooden gateway, and walked up the twisting, overgrown path.

The cottage had a small porch in the front, made of old wood. The supporting beams lent out at crazy angles. There was all sorts of detritus strewn about the porch, including broken broomsticks, cauldrons which were now acting as pots for spidery-looking plants, boots, books, and way up one end, an old upright piano. Cobwebs were hanging off it, and Hermione wouldn’t have been surprised if something was living in it.

The door was originally red, but was faded and peeling, so the shiny gold plate screwed to the middle of the door looked entirely out of place. The plate was engraved, “Ministry of Magic: Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, North Division”.

Hermione had been doubting for some time if she was in the right place, and was somewhat relieved to see the sign, although she was a little confused by the surroundings. She knocked loudly on the door, and almost missed the faint “Enter” which floated out.

The door was stuck. Hermione tried several times to open it, before she finally gave it a decent shove with her hip. It sprang open and she fell over the door jam, to be greeted by a small wizard not much bigger than Professor Flitwick, her charms teacher, had been.

The small wizard gave Hermione a large smile, and said sympathetically “You’ve got to give it a bit of effort, that door. A bit tempermental.”

Hermione straightened up and looked properly at him. He had fuzzy grey hair, a long nose, and he was wearing two pairs of spectacles – one near his eyes, and another pair way down his nose. He was dressed in oversized black robes which were dragging along near his feet, and he was holding a rabbit. He dropped the rabbit and told it, “Be a dear, Dolly, and be nice to our new colleague.” Dolly simply sniffed at Hermione’s feet before jumping past her and through the front door. The wizard just gave another big smile.

“I am so delighted to have you here, Miss Granger! I have been waiting for you for some time. As you know, our old Potions Officer suffered some injury in a bit of a botched potion of his own a while ago, and we have been running a little tight since then. Oh, come in, come in. I expect you’ll want to know where you rooms are. And you office, of course. And I’ll have to introduce you to Mrs Tibbetts, she works in Charms and Curses. Oh, and of course: I am Elizar. Elizar Bacon. I do Transfig and Apparations. I mostly deal with splinches and the like. Amateurs can get themselves into an awful mess. You have your apparation license I trust? Of course, you’ll be needing it on this job. We apparate all over Northern England to clean up people’s silliness.”

Elizar finally took a breath, and Hermione simply blinked. She was entirely overwhelmed by the small wizard, who talked more than anyone she had ever met. Even more, she was beginning to think he was a bit of an eccentric. That suspicion only increased when he ushered her down the hallway and through a doorway on the right. It was a long, narrow room that ran the length of the cottage, and it was crammed with bookcases that reached the ceiling. The bookcases were each overflowing with books, jars holding heaven knows what, Wizard photographs and other odd silver spindly instruments, the likes of which she had only ever seen in Dumbledore’s office. What didn’t fit on the bookcases, mostly books, were piled about the room. It was so full, the Hermione missed the fact that there were three desks in there somewhere. Near the door was Elizar Bacon’s, obviously, because it was as small as a child’s desk, quitquite close to the ground. Halfway up was another desk covered in what looked like half the stock of Honeydukes, and at the end of the room, near a window looking out onto Hogwarts, was an empty desk. Her desk.

Elizar had disappeared, something about finding Mrs Tibbetts. If the rest of house was like this, it could take some time to dig her up. So Hermione wondered over to her desk, and put her things down. She sat on the chair and looked out of the window, up to Hogwarts. Not for the first time, she wondered How on earth have I ended up here?