The Name in Red **COMPLETE**

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The Name in Red.

Chapter 3: Inquiry and Argument.
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"Who are you?" the girl asked shakily.

"We were just about to ask you the same question," said Snape.

The frightened girl's eyes shifted to the tall dark man who had answered her. This was not exactly the response she had been hoping to get.

There were several moments of silence. The dark-eyed man continued to stare up at her. Upon looking directly into her eyes, his expression of confusion intensified briefly. The girl looked to the green-eyed woman standing before the foot of the bed. In doing so, she discovered that the woman's eyes were locked with her own, and she was still wearing an expression of shock and surprise while looking back at the girl... she almost appeared frightened.

A few more moments of silence passed in which the girl and the woman at the foot of the bed continued staring into each other's eyes. Then, the woman cleared her throat loudly and shook her head, as if rousing herself out of some disoriented state and back to the reality before her.

"Now dear," she said, striding to her left around the foot of the bed. She walked toward the head of the bead, passing behind the chair in which the nurse woman was seated. "There's no need to be frightened," she said reassuringly, while extending a hand toward the girl who had backed herself up against the wall. "It seems you have undergone quite an ordeal tonight, but you are safe now. Please," she insisted, as the girl made no move.

The girl regarded the woman's hand warily for several seconds. Reassured by the woman's words and tone of voice, the girl had decided that she was not in danger. Finally, the girl lifted a hand of her own and allowed the woman to take it. The woman helped the girl lower herself back down to the bed in a normal sitting position. No longer backed up against the wall like a frightened animal, she let go of the woman's hand.

"There, that's better," said the green-eyed woman consolingly. "I believe it is only fair that, before we berate you with questions as to your identity, that we introduce ourselves first." As she said this, she gave the tall dark-eyed man a stern look. He looked back at her, clearly annoyed.

"I am Professor McGonagall," she began, "This is Madam Pomfrey, our resident Healer," she said, motioning to the woman in the white uniform seated on a chair next to the bed, "And this is Professor Snape," she nodded to the tall dark-haired man, "He was the one who found you and brought you here for aid."

The girl turned to regard the tall man. She nodded once, slowly, and then turned back to Professor McGonagall. She was looking down at the girl expectantly. The girl met her gaze and took a deep breath.

"My name is Sarah," said the girl. "Sarah Garrend."

The three people surrounding the bed on which the girl sat all glanced at each other. These were only the second set of words that they had heard the girl speak. They were apparently unable to recognize her name. This, however, was not the issue at the forefront of their minds as they all exchanged somewhat surprised looks. Her voice was clear now, no longer shaky and frightened-sounding; it immediately made clear to them that she was not from England, Scotland, or Ireland, the three countries which fed into Hogwarts.

Sarah looked around at all three of them confusedly, wondering what could possibly be so perplexing about what she had just said. Professor McGonagall quickly turned back to her.

"Well, Miss Garrend," said Professor McGonagall, "Could you possibly tell us where you are from?"

"I'm not from Scotland, if that's what you're asking," Sarah replied to her. "Or England," she added, nodding her head toward the other two occupants of the room whose accents she had heard and identified. She took another deep breath, preparing to speak again; all three people whom she was about to address, however, had already surmised what she was about to tell them. "I'm from America."

Madam Pomfrey nodded slowly several times, but said nothing; Snape began to absently stroke his chin with his long fingers, looking contemplatively at the girl. McGonagall too looked contemplative, carefully deciding what to ask the girl next. The fact that she was from America did not concern her too greatly; she knew that the United States did have a magical population, but it was a far smaller and less concentrated one than Britain's, as well as the rest of Europe's. There were very few schools of magic there, none of them even coming close to Hogwarts in size or renown. In Minerva's mind, the fact that the girl had been able to see and approach the castle was proof enough that she had to be a witch. It was this fact that drove her to be forthcoming and ask the girl outright, without mincing words:

"Which school of magic do you attend, dear?" she asked.

Sarah's eyebrows traveled halfway up her forehead, and her mouth opened slightly.

"Magic?" she repeated incredulously.

Snape cleared his throat loudly. Professor McGonagall, eyes wide again with confusion, immediately looked up at him, glaring. This gesture of Snape's was clearly to be taken as an 'I-told-you-so'. McGonagall, however, would not accept it. She knew her instincts to be correct, despite Snape's skepticism.

"Yes, dear. Magic," she pressed, looking at the girl once more. "You are a witch. Please tell us which school you attend."

Sarah stared blankly back at her.

"I'm a what?"

Professor McGonagall straightened. She turned to Madam Pomfrey.

"Poppy?" she asked.

Madam Pomfrey shook her head slowly. She knew precisely what Minerva was asking her.

"I examined her fully, Minerva," Pomfrey began, "There was no evidence of the type of trauma, magical or otherwise, that would have caused her memories to be lost or altered."

The girl on the bed looked more confused than ever. Snape spoke up immediately, sounding urgent.

"She is a Muggle, Minerva," said Snape. "I have told you so. She hasn't a clue what you are talking about. I have no idea how she came to be here, but we need to Obliviate her immediately and return her to wherever she came from."

Professor McGonagall rounded on Snape, looking severe. She was interrupted on the verge of speech by Madam Pomfrey, who had quickly risen out of her chair and began to speak, sounding fierce.

"She will not be leaving my care for at least the next couple of days, Severus," she said.

"You intend to keep a Muggle here, Poppy? At Hogwarts?" asked Snape. The tone of his voice made it clear that he thought this to be a terribly foolish idea. "How exactly do you intend to explain any of this to her? You had best contact the Obliviator Headquarters at the Ministry, because I will not be the one to fix her memories before sending her back after you have broken the Statute of Secrecy. Then, while you're at it, you can also explain to them why you saw fit to give a Muggle a full regimen of magical care in a wizard's hospital," he spat, his arms gesticulating wildly.

"She is not a Muggle, Severus, I am sure of it!" shouted McGonagall. Her voice sounded even louder in the big, empty room. Snape began looking defensive. "Never, in the history of this school, has a Muggle simply wandered up to Hogwarts and knocked on the door! She was able to see the castle! She knew there were people here, and she came for help. Were she a Muggle, she would have simply died in the woods. Would that have pleased you more, Severus?"

"Of course not, Minerva," shouted Snape, both looking and sounding affronted.

"I was the one who began treating this poor girl, and I will be the one to finish the job! She is not leaving my care!" added Pomfrey.

"Regardless," Snape continued, "There must be some other explanation for this, Minerva! It is obvious she hasn't a clue about any of this. The enchantments on the castle must have failed when it was so heavily damaged earlier this year."

"There is no other explanation, Severus," stated McGonagall curtly. "I am well aware of your suspicions. The enchantments on the castle have never failed, Severus, despite the damage the school may have sustained over the centuries. They were put in place by its founders and remain intact to this day."

"Then explain her!" said Snape, gesturing, but not looking, toward the girl on the bed.

"She must simply be a Muggleborn who was kept out of school and thereby kept from the Wizarding community, or who the magical officials in her country never contacted to enroll," stated McGonagall matter-of-factly, crossing her arms over her chest. "We will simply need to contact the girl's parents."

Snape scowled. He obviously did not think either of these to be acceptable explanations of the mysterious girl he had found on the school's doorstep.

"Stop being stubborn, Severus," continued McGonagall. "You have seen her. Look into her eyes yourself and tell me that she is not a witch."

"I know it is strange-looking, Minerva," Snape began insisting, "But there must also be some other explanation for-"

He was interrupted.

"Excuse me," Sarah interjected loudly, cutting Snape off mid-sentence. She had sat silently through the heated argument that had broken out on all sides of her. Words could not express her confusion. No matter what exactly was being argued about, or whether or not she was indeed a witch as Professor McGonagall insisted, she knew that Professor Snape was right about one thing at least; she was completely clueless.

There were a few moments of silence in which the three people gathered around the bed had all turned to look at its occupant. It was as if they had forgotten she was here in the midst of their quarreling, and their facial expressions communicated just this much.

"What is all this? Is anyone going to explain to me what's going on?" asked Sarah.

Professor Snape took a deep, calming breath and straightened up. He quickly swept some of his lank black hair away from his face. Crossing his arms over his chest, he looked down at Sarah, giving her a sort of half-glare. She looked up at him. She could feel his black eyes boring into her own. She blinked at him.

Professor McGonagall unfolded her arms, resting her fingertips on the matress. Madam Pomfrey moved to stand at the foot of the bed, looking at Sarah with eyes full of concern.

"Yes, dear," began McGonagall cautiously, "But I am afraid that there is rather a lot to explain."

She looked thoughtful for a moment and seemed to be on the verge of speech. Sarah turned toward her and leaned forward, eagerly awaiting any explanation she could garner. Before she could speak, however, Snape made a jerky movement which caught both Sarah and McGonagall's eyes, and they both quickly turned to look at him.

Out of his robes he had drawn what appeared to Sarah to be a long, thin piece of black wood. Intricate designs were carved into it in places, and it seemed slightly thicker at one end than it did at the other. She briefly realized that this was the instrument she had seen before, which emanated the strange white light. He took this instrument in hand, raised his arm, and pointed it toward a spot on the floor some distance away. Sarah turned her head to look at this spot. McGonagall repeated this movement. On the floor where he was pointing, Sarah could see the shattered flask and its spilled contents. Suddenly feeling a bit guilty at her recklessness in slapping it away and breaking it, she blushed slightly.

"Scourgify!"

Sarah's eyes widened as she watched the liquid on the floor clean itself up.

"Reparo!"

The shattered flask leapt back into its original, unbroken form. Sarah gasped.

"Accio!"

Sarah's eyes followed the flask as it flew up from its spot on the floor and straight into Professor Snape's empty, outstretched hand. Sarah was silent, her mouth hanging agape, and her eyes huge. She simply sat there and stared at the miraculously reassembled flask in Professor Snape's hand. Taking in her expression, Snape smirked bemusedly at her. He then casually lobbed the flask toward her. Her eyes never leaving it, she caught it easily. She craned her head down, scrutinizing the repaired flask in her hands.

"Explain that," he snarked toward McGonagall. He then replaced his wand in his robes and strode over to the opposite side of the room, placing himself in front of one of the tall windows and gazing out into the stormy darkness.

Sarah continued to gape at the simple flask in her hands. Moments previously it had lain shattered in dozens of tiny pieces; now, however, it bore no evidence of ever having crashed to the floor. McGonagall watched her quietly. Madam Pomfrey strode away toward the opposite side of the room as well, busying herself with a large cabinet full of flasks and bottles.

Finally managing to tear her eyes away from the item in her hands, Sarah looked up. Her eyes rested briefly on Snape's back, full of awe, and then she looked up at McGonagall once again. Sarah was completely silent, but wore an expression on her face which almost screamed, yes, please do explain that. She finally managed to squeek, "What was that?"

"That, my dear, was magic," stated McGonagall. She then paused, leaving a few seconds for additional inquiry from the gaping girl. All Sarah did was continue gazing at her, her wide eyes pleading for more information. "I am a witch, you see. So is Madam Pomfrey. And Professor Snape over there is a wizard," she motioned toward Snape, who was still intently staring out of the high window across the room. "We are able to perform magic. What you just witnessed were a few simple spells to clean up the mess, repair the flask, and summon it."

Sarah looked utterly astounded.

"This barely scratches the surface, I'm afraid," McGonagall continued, one side of her mouth curling into a tiny smile at the girl's astonishment with such a simple feat of magic. "I daresay magic can do far more than clean up messes and repair broken bottles."

Sarah nodded once, slowly. She did not look any less astounded.

"Your injuries, for instance," she continued, "Were healed using magic. It is not a cure-all, however, and as you have heard, you will have to remain in Madam Pomfrey's care for a short while longer before you will be completely well."

"And...," Sarah began, her voice faint, "I'm a... I mean, you think I'm a...," the index finger of her right hand was now pointing flush into her own chest in a rather unnecessary gesture.

"A witch, yes," McGonagall finished the girl's sentence for her. "Of that I am fairly certain. This castle is enchanted with protection to keep Muggles-," Sarah tilted her head comically, "-non-magical people, that is," continued McGonagall seamlessly, briefly noting Sarah's confusion at the term, "from seeing it, or even approaching it. Had you been a Muggle, you would have seen nothing but a dangerous old ruin and many signs warning quite clearly against getting close to it. Had you approached anyway, you would have become inexplicably terrified and filled with the urge to flee from the place and never return. But it is plain that all of this is news to you."

Sarah nodded vigorously, clutching the repaired flask tightly in her left hand.

"There are many magical families which live in the Wizarding community here and abroad, completely separate from the Muggle world," she continued. "There is, however, the occasional witch or wizard born to non-magical parents. We call them Muggleborns. Children in magical families are raised in the Wizarding community and are, obviously, quite aware of it. Muggleborns, however, are raised as Muggles, unaware of what they are, aside perhaps from their occasional strange occurrences which seem to have no logical explanation."

At this, Sarah gave several more vigorous nods.

"That is, until, a certain age," she continued, "usually at the age of eleven. A member of the magical community, usually a staff member representing the school at which the child will be given the opportunity of enrolling, will approach their family. Did this ever happen to you, dear? Were you ever approached by someone telling you or your parents that you were a witch?"

Across the room, Snape had glanced back over his shoulder. Sarah shook her head in the negative. McGonagall nodded.

"It is quite possible that this did occur, but that the witch or wizard was turned away by your parents," said McGonagall. "Enrollment in a school of magic is not compulsory, and parents are quite at liberty to keep their children from it once they learn what their child is, if they even believe it in the first place. Needless to say, most Muggles do not take to this news quite as well as you are," she nodded at Sarah. "Still, others are open-minded, excited, and proud of their children, and allow them to receive a different education outside of the Muggle world. We will simply need to contact your parents and ask them when this occurred, and why they decided to keep it from you."

Sarah's surprised facial expression, which had almost begun to resemble excitement halfway through Professor McGonagall's explanation, darkened into a serious one. She cast her eyes down at the flask in her hand briefly, and then looked back up at McGonagall. Snape was still watching the pair discreetly over his shoulder.

"You won't be able to," said Sarah, her voice sullen. "My parents were killed in a car accident when I was a baby. I've lived in foster homes my whole life. I'd just come to stay with friends In Moray, during a break, before I wound up here. I was staying in Dufftown," she sighed, looking down at the flask again. As she spoke, about the circumstances that had brought her into this part of the world, her expression became oddly fuzzy, as if she were trying to remember something that she could not quite put her finger on. Shaking her head back and forth dismissively, she continued speaking. "I don't have any family. None that I know of, anyway," she looked back up at McGonagall, who nodded in an understanding way.

"That certainly might explain why you were never inducted into the magical community," said McGonagall. "The authorities in America must have lost track of you, or thought you dead along with your parents."

There was a pause. Snape turned back toward the window, and Sarah looked back down at the flask.

"Could you tell us how you came to be here, then?" asked McGonagall kindly. "You obviously went through quite an ordeal. You are fortunate to be here. We even believe you were attacked by Centaurs."

"I didn't imagine them, then?" asked Sarah. She was clearly hoping she had.

"I'm afraid they were quite real," called Madam Pomfrey from across the room. Finishing up what she was doing in the cabinet, she approached the bed once again and held out her hand toward the girl. Resting in her hand was a wicked-looking arrow with blood stained on its tip. Regarding it for a few moments, Sarah dropped the flask softly onto the bed and took the arrow from Pomfrey's hand. She examined it carefully.

"I had gone camping with my friends," Sarah began, speaking extremely slowly as if she were trying to piece it all together. Her expression became fuzzy once again, and her eyes took on a sort of glassy glaze, and the tone of her voice fell somewhat flat. "They had gone to get some more firewood and for some reason, I felt like taking a walk. So I did," she said, gazing down at the arrow she was now twirling in her fingers as she recounted her story. "Pretty soon I got lost, I guess." When she reached this point in her story, her eyes began looking significantly clearer. She began speaking faster as if she remembered these particular events with more clarity, and the tone of her voice picked up. "So I just kept walking and walking. It got dark pretty fast. I thought that if I walked far enough, I'd find my way out of the woods, but the forest just got thicker and thicker."

"It must have been hours and hours. I just kept walking and walking. Then it started to storm pretty badly. I got soaked and I threw off my jacket and kept on walking," she continued, "and then the Centaurs found me. I didn't believe they were real. They started saying things. I don't even remember what they said, I was so afraid. They started advancing on me, so I turned and ran as fast as I could. I guess somehow I managed to stay ahead of them. Pretty soon I thought I could see where the forest ended, and I thought that if I could get out of the forest, I'de be able to get away from the nightmares that were chasing me."

"And then," she paused, and held up the arrow, "This must have hit me. I fell pretty hard. I think the Centaurs must have thought they'd killed me, because they sort of slowed down and didn't come up to me right away. I thought I was as good as dead. Then, I looked up, and I saw the castle. I thought, if I could just make it there, I'd be alright. Someone would find me. So I got up and started running again."

"After taking an arrow to the shoulder?" Pomfrey gasped. Sarah nodded.

"I guess I was able to ignore it. All that mattered to me was getting to the castle. Adrenaline, I guess," Sarah shrugged. "So I kept running, but after I finally got out of the trees, one of the Centaurs cut me off and came charging straight at me with a spear." McGonagall gasped. Across the room, Snape had turned back away from the window and was now watching Sarah as she spoke. He began approaching the bed again slowly.

"I was going to try to stop and jump to the side but I fell backward instead. And then...," her gaze on the arrow in her hands intensified as she remembered the moment in which time had somehow slowed and allowed her to avoid being impaled by the Centaur's spear. "I don't know what happened...," she shook her head slowly, her eyes still on the arrow. "It was like... it was like life went into slow motion. I was expecting to die, but I didn't. Everything slowed down. I didn't know what was going on. Everything went quiet, and I could see the Centaur above me, driving his spear down. He was moving, but only barely. I didn't know what was happening, but I knew that I had to get out of the way. So I rolled aside."

Her eyes still on the arrow, she did not see the shocked expressions on the faces of her small audience as she spoke of time slowing down. Snape was now at the foot of the bed, looking down at her, black eyes wide.

"As soon as I did," she continued, "It was like time sped up again. I heard the Centaur hit the ground right next to me. Then...," she paused again, "I don't know what happened then, either... It was like something inside me was telling me what to do. I don't know what it was. Something told me to grab the Centaur's leg, so I did. I didn't know what the hell I was doing. Then my hands tightened even though I...," she briefly paused, wondering how to best explain it, "Even though I never told them to. They just tightened around his leg. And then they felt hot. I don't know what I did..."

She sounded just about as shocked at her words as her audience was. Since coming here and regaining consciousness, she hadn't put any thought into the details of how she was narrowly able to avoid death as time slowed. She hadn't even wondered what exactly she had done to the Centaur's leg, or what strange instinct had driven her to do it. It was all vividly resurfacing in her mind as she told her story, and she sounded absolutely floored. She was almost as surprised-looking as she had been when she first examined the repaired flask. Had she actually put thought into the details of what had happened to her before this moment, she may not have been quite as surprised to hear that she was a witch.

"I hurt him somehow, I must have," she continued after a longer pause, "Because he screamed like he was in pain and reared up again. I let go of his leg and got up and started running. He fell backward into the other Centaurs and stopped them chasing me for a few more seconds. Once I got really close to the castle they must have stopped chasing me entirely. I didn't see them or hear them anymore."

"I found myself near the door," she took a deep breath, remembering the moment the excruciating pain had set back in as she stood only feet from the castle's door. "And I managed to limp up to it. I was hurting bad. I banged on the door as hard as I could, for as long as I could. I yelled for help. And then I collapsed on the steps. That's the last thing I remember before," she paused, looking up at her tall, dark-haired savior. "I saw the light from your," it clicked in her mind, "Your wand. And then I felt you picking me up, and..."

The faint blush that developed across the bridge of her nose and the tops of her cheeks did not go unnoticed by Snape. Luckily, the two motherly women at her sides took it to be flushing due to exhaustion and the stress of retelling her harrowing tale. Sarah swallowed, looking away from Snape and back down at the arrow she held. She decided not to go into details about how she had gazed up into the face of her savior and felt so deeply comforted by him and his reassuring words. She glossed over how she had felt so very safe in his arms.

Before she continued speaking, she quirked a brow at her thoughts. From her brief experience with this man called Severus Snape, the consoling empathy he had shown her as he carried her to safety already seemed strangely uncharacteristic. It was as if a man, completely different from the one who had carried her inside, was standing at the foot of her bed now. He was the man who had insisted that she was a Muggle and argued so heatedly with Professor McGonagall; not the man who had so tenderly carried her inside and reassured her. While she was idly wondering where this other, nicer Snape had gone, she was interrupted from her internal dialogue.

"And?" McGonagall pressed. Sarah had paused for too long, and her audience was obviously eager to hear the rest of her story.

"That's it, really," Sarah said quickly, "And then I woke up here," she said, looking down at the flask lying on the bed. "You all know what happened next."

She continued staring down at the bed. She did not see the silent, shocked expressions the three other people were now exchanging.

"Well," said McGonagall finally, "You have been through quite a lot, Miss Garrend. It is clear that you are exhausted and I think it best that you get a good night's sleep now. You have had an awful lot to absorb. We shall talk more once you are rested."

"Alright," Sarah agreed. She did not realize until just then how tired she really was. She looked up at Madam Pomfrey and held out the arrow, as well as the empty flask. Pomfrey took them from her and, nodding thanks, began to walk back toward the large cabinet on the opposite wall.

"I will be right back with something for you to take before you sleep, Miss Garrend," she called back over her shoulder.

Snape drew his wand from his robes once more and began flicking it along the walls. Sarah watched as the curtains on all of the windows swung closed.

"Thank you for speaking with us. Please, get some rest," McGonagall patted Sarah on the arm softly. Sarah nodded.

Professor McGonagall had already begun walking away when Snape made one last movement with his wand; he pointed it toward the girl lying on the bed and gave it a soft flick, his face twisted in concentration while doing so.

"Agh!" Sarah exclaimed. Her eyes stung. She closed them and brought her hands up, rubbing them furiously. The sting quickly faded and her eyes felt normal once more. Removing her hands from them, she glared at Snape. "What did you just do?" she demanded.

McGonagall turned instantly around, her tartan dressing gown flowing out slightly. She looked accusingly at Snape, who was still looking at Sarah. Sarah looked from Snape to McGonagall. When she met Sarah's eyes, McGonagall's mouth opened slightly and she seemed to nod once to herself. She then looked back to Snape and exchanged a hurried look with him. He gave a curt nod in reply. Turning once again, she strode toward the large double doors and left the infirmary.

"I did nothing, Miss Garrend," stated Snape smoothly, stowing his wand back in his robes. "You are simply overly exhausted and your eyes must be extremely tired. Please do everything Madam Pomfrey asks of you," he gave Sarah a serious look. She blinked at him once more. He then turned. Sarah watched him stride out of the infirmary after McGonagall, black robes billowing.

Another minute or two passed before Madam Pomfrey approached Sarah's bed again. She held another small flask filled with some kind of liquid. She held it out to Sarah, who took it from her gingerly, clearly skeptical of its contents.

"This is a potion that will help you sleep while relieving some of your pain," Madam Pomfrey patiently explained as she noted the girl's anguished expression. "It might not taste very nice, but please, drink it, and try to get some rest."

Still holding the full flask in front of her, Sarah watched as Pomfrey drew her wand from a pocket in her white uniform. She proceeded to flick it at each of the room's many large sconces, whose flames dimmed almost to embers. The room was now very dark.

"Sleep well," said Pomfrey, who turned and left the infirmary through the separate, smaller door on the opposite wall.

Sarah looked back to the flask in her hand and smirked. She was about to take a potion that was the equivalent of a Tylenol PM. Somehow she knew that this strange liquid would be much more efficacious than Muggle pills. Shrugging resignedly, she tilted her head back and downed the flask's contents in a single gulp. She grimaced as it burned her throat.

After carefully setting the flask down on the small cabinet next to her bed, she laid down and snuggled into the sheets. She winced from the dull ache in her shoulder and the pain in her ribs, as well as from the several bruises and small cuts she still had. Resting her head on the pillow, she closed her eyes.

Before she had time to reflect on the evening's events, before her mind had even a moment to race about the fascinating new world that had just been opened up to her, she was fast asleep. Upon waking, however, she would know quite for certain that none of it had been a dream.


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A/N: There you have chapter 3! I hope you enjoyed it. Don't worry, we will be seeing the young canon heroes relatively soon. Please review if you would be so kind :)