The Moon Has Spoken

Fiddler soon found out that she liked it at Hogwarts.

Severus had Apparated them both there as soon as she scarcely packed a small case; she had replied nothing when he commented somewhat scornfully that she didn’t seem to think she would be staying too long at Hogw.
.

“Mark my words”, he had said. “Once you get in our world, you get there to stay”. And she had the feeling that there was more to it.
He had regarded her wonderingly and then turned on his heels in a flourish of his long black coat and left the room. She stared to the door after his grand departure, and then raised her shoulders. Well, so the song had unnerved him. Too bad. As Fiddler had said herself, she had to ask.

The last think she did before leaving was a quick phone call to her Chief Resident to let him know that a sudden and rather unexpected necessity to travel to England had arisen, and that she didn’t quite know how long would she be gone.
He accepted her sudden departure with surprising benevolence and bid her farewell and the best of luck. She was still staring at the receiver with utter bewilderment when Severus entered the room to ask if she was ready.

“Yeah…”, Fiddler said absently, putting the receiver back on place. “I just… Well… He didn’t even question me or anything… And I’ve had him berating at me for much less than this…”

“Maybe you’re beginning to control your magic”, he replied in his best professorial tone, that would have had his students cowering behind their cauldrons; but she just said:

“Yeah, I guess so”, and he had no choice but to hold out his rather large hand to her, so he could Apparate them both to Hogsmeade.

Now, that’s a good way of travelling, Fiddler had thought when they reappeared in what it seemed like a living bucolic postcard, full with old fashioned buildings, beautiful gardens and people displaying the most astounding collection of garments Fiddler had ever seen. She looked at Severus, noticing for the first time that, although he wasn’t dressed as the rest of the wizards on the streets, his clothes weren’t precisely normal, either. It was definitely the sort of attire that someone who didn’t have the slighest idea of what did decent people wear would have chosen, she decided.
They walked alon in silence until they reached the gates of a castle that seemed at least one thousand years old, and then Fiddler found herself climbing up a rather inclined path; puffing slightly, she wondered out loud why couldn’t they just Apparate inside the drat castle.

“Because it’s warded”, was the laconic answer.

They were greeted at the very entrance by a wizard in dazzling robes that looked like Fiddler’s idea of Merlin, and a stern-looking witch who turned out to be Fiddler’s aunt.

“Minerva McGonagall, dear”, she said, offering Fiddler a small hand, not unlike her own. She seemed really surprised at the sight of Fiddler. “Well, I must say you certainly do not look like Wally”.

“No, Minerva”, the older wizard said. “She’s the living image of her mother… Without the green face, of course”.

That made made everyone laugh except for Severus. He remained stubbornly tense, with his shoulders squared and his legs slightly flexed, as if he was expecting someone to drop from the ceiling and attack them. Fiddler didn’t give him a second thought, though, and smiled back at the old wizard. She felt she really liked him and assumed he was Albus Dumbledore.

“That would be correct, my girl”, he replied, his eyes twinkling. “And now, I believe it is time to get you settled”.

She nodded and followed them through the stone halls to her new quarters.

“I have given you accomodation in Gryffindor Tower”, Albus informed her merrily, and at her puzzled expression, he proceeded to explain the Four Houses and how were the students Sorted into them. “I do not think there will be need to Sort you”, he added, “for you will not be part of the student body; but if you are curious, I will have you know you come from a long line of outstanding Gryffindors… Minerva here, your own father… In fact, all McGonagalls have been Gryffindors, I believe”.

Fiddler heard a disdainful snort to her right and turned swiftly to look at Severus. He held her gaze contemptuously and arched an eyebrow. Fiddler eyed him from above her shoulder and turned to look back at Dumbledore. Somehow, she knew she had fallen of Severus’ grace, if she had ever been there in the first place. She reminded herself she’d have to learn more about the Houses and the reason why should Severus despise Gryffindors.

“So is Gryffindor for the bravest, Ravenclaw for the smartest, Slytherin for the cunniest and Hufflepuff for… the rest?”, she asked. “Well, I think I have a pretty good idea of which House I would be on”, she smiled when Dumbledore stopped to look at her, for his expression told her very clearly he knew what she was thinking.
It was a song, actually, and it had nothing to do with the Houses, not at first sight, at least.
Dumbledore said nothing as he clapped his palms together and a door opened on its own.
Fiddler walked in, mumbling a fragment of that very song to herself in a very low voice.

Day posesses no key here,
where moon sheds the cold twilight;
This moment is eternity.
Land of raven and bear,
Land of eagle and wolverine,
Dismal are the mirrors of a wolf.


Inside was a stone chamber with ancient furniture, and a four poster bed with blue hangings and matching quilt placed on a corner near a window. A merry fire cracked in the hearth and there was a gray dog napping on a velvety blue sofa.
Her eyes wandered back to that last image, drawn from the contemplation of the primrose desk and the bookshelves swarming with books. A dog?

“Yes, well”, Dumbledore said behind her. “I believe he comes with the rooms. We haven’t been able to remove him”.

“Oh, that’s quite all right!”, Fiddler said happily. “Here, boy! Come here!”

Again that scathing grunt, barely audible, but this time Fiddler didn’t mind it, because the dog had marched directly towards her and now was demanding her attention. He was rather sturdy and heavy, with pointed hears and a long snout, and round blue eyes that shone among his thick bush of gray fur. He looked like a small and plumpy wolf.
Fiddler lifted him from the stone floor and straightened her back to look at Dumbledore.

“Thank you, Albus. It’s been so nice of you to um… take me in. You know, I am still having trouble reconciling with this… um… reality”, she confessed. “And of course, the idea of being half a Banshee is a shocking one. Not that it came as a big surprise… Many Muggles have called me that more that once. It’s the hair, I think”.

“Not just the hair, my girl”, Albus replied, and something in his tone made Fiddler unease.

“Do you by any chance know my Mother’s name?”, she asked.

Fiddler had always been an observer. She enjoyed the way feelings and thoughts found their ways to their owner’s faces, and she also loved to tell them apart. Minerva, for instance, looked very interested in knowing the answer, which Fiddler thought was odd, but then again, there was no guarantee that Wallace McGonagall had introduced his Banshee wife to his Gryffindor family; better yet, there was no indication at all that her parents had been actually married. Severus looked as if he couldn’t care less about the matter, but the expression on Albus’ face was a work of art. Eyes twinkling, face glowing as if he was immensely proud of Fiddler, he smiled widely and took alternative gazes at both her and Severus.

“You know that Banshees usually don’t have a given name like the rest of us”, Albus said, softly. “They’re usually known for either one of her features or the sound of her wailing. In fact, your name is a living proof of that”.

“Oh, that’s right!”, Fiddler said, blushing slightly. “Mother… well you know… my adoptive mother said that I didn’t so much as cry when I was a baby. I actually screeched. Mother told me once it made her think of a violin. Hence… Fiddler”.

“So you know what I am talking about. Now, your real mother had two nominations as I recall… One of them was Lykaios, which means--”

“Wolf-like”, Fiddler said. “It’s a Greek word. She wailed… like a wolf?”

“I am afraid she did, Fiddler. Must have been wonderful to hear, unless she was wailing directly at you”, they both chuckled unwillingly. “And the other”, he continued, “was Belinda”.

He said that in a rather theatrical way, FiddFiddler was startled to see Minerva hold in her breath and look at the Headmaster in polite disbelief; Severus, on the other side, was staring at her with ten times his usual sneer, as if he couldn’t believe his ears. Albus chuckled, and translated:

“It means ‘Beautiful Snake’, Fiddler. And as I said, you’re her living image. Wouldn’t you agree, Severus?”

But he had shifted and was already half way down the hall, long cloak flapping dramatically as he strode.

~§~§~§~


Fiddler had met Harry Potter, of course, along with his best friends, and she had developed a good friendship with them, almost to the point of becoming sort of a big sister to them. They were eager for her to learn all the joys of magic, and they started by instructing her on broom-riding, but they soon gave up on her declaring she was worst than Neville; and after crashing on a tree for the millionth time in a row, she found herself agreeing with them.
They also insisted on her to go with them on Hogsmeade weekends, and they dragged her to Zonko’s and Honeydukes, where she acquired enough chocolate frogs to last her a life time.

“Blimey”, Ron had said, “I think you even outdid me!”

With Dumbledore’s permission, they even got to go to Diagon Alley by themselves, where Fiddler learned she had her very own account at Gringotts Bank, and that her real father had been a really wealthy man indeed. Ginny and Hermione hccomccompanied Fiddler to Madam Malkin’s to shop for witch robes whilst the boys browsed through Quality Quidditch Supplies for the last innovations of their favorite sport. They had visited the Weasley twins, who seemed delighted to meet Fiddler and gifted them with their latest and most certainly dangerous inventions, as Hermione whispered conspirationally to Fiddler. As they passed Ollivander’s, Ron suggested Fiddler should get a wand as well.

“Yeah, I mean, think of it”, he said when the others looked at him questioningly. “She’s a witch after all, isn’t she? She can’t just go about without a wand”.

“Oh, I don’t know, Ron”, Hermione replied. “I am not sure if that’s a good idea. If Dumbledore had wanted her to have a wand, he would have told her to get one”.

And although Fiddler thought Hermione had a point there, no one else listened to her, so they walked inside, but Fiddler tried each and every wand Mr. Ollivander gave her to no results at all. Ollivander was miffed and the kids were growing apprehensive, so Fiddler put the very last wand on the shop back in its box and sighed:

“Oh, well, apparently I am not made for wands”.

“Or maybe there are no wands made for you”, Hermione muttered, looking at her with fearsome respect.

“The wand choses the Wizard…” echoed Harry thoughtfully and they all left the shop in silence.


That episode aside, life was just fine at Hogwarts. Fiddler didn’t attend regular classes, and she instead spent most of her time at the Hospital Wing under Madam Pomfrey’s cheerful tutelage. She had even learned a few spells that didn’t require a wand to cast, and she was becoming quite an expert in medicinal herbs and beverages; in exchange, she had instructed Madam Pomfrey on the basics of Muggle Healing, which the older witch found as remarkable as fascinating.
She also spent a lot of time with Dumbledore. He was teaching her to interpret the images that formed in her head every once in a while, and to focus the faint halo of her magic into something more precise and will powered. She hadn’t mentioned the wand incident, and nor had he, although Fiddler was sure he knew about it. She had soon learned that Dumbledore knew everything that went on around there.

But not once since her arrival had Fiddler seen Severus Snape again. The kids had told her all about him ais nis nasty personality and his bullying teaching methods, giving her a full account of all of Neville’s potions’ catastrophes. They had informed her he was the Head of Slytherin and that he always favored his own House, no matter how idiotic his students were, and that he always was in search of the most feeble excuses to deduct points from Gryffindor, his favorite past-time.

“He once docked points from Hermione for answering correctly to a question”, said Ron, enraged. “That greasy git is just unbearable! Vicious, mean, nasty…”

“Funny”, Fiddler said softly. “He didn’t seem so when we met”.

“Of course not!” Ron replied. “That old bat knows where and when to bend his knees! How do you think he’s survived this long?”

It was then when Fiddler learned that Severus had been a Death Eater, working now along with what Harry referred reverently ae Ore Order of the Phoenix, and that they all asumed that he was spying on Voldemort for Dumbledore’s behalf.

“But he hasn’t changed one bit”, Hermione said, and she sounded disappointed. “I thought he would, you , bu, but old tigers don’t lose their stripes”.

“That’s very true”, Ginny said.

Well that was appalling, Fiddler thought, glancing at the lake from her spot in the lawn. Ginny, Ron and Harry had finished Quidditch practice and they all had packed a picnic and headed for a peaceful, isolated clear near the Forbidden Forest.

“So what’s he upto now?” Fiddler asked.

“Well, no one knows for sure”, Harry said. “Fred and George try to eavesdrop every once in a while with their Extendable Ears, but they never manage to find out anything. Mrs. Weasley won’t let them in the meetings since those Wildfire Whiz-Bangs of them nearly gave Moody heart failure”.

They all laughed at the memory (except for Fiddler), and then Ron added:

“But on the bright side, we’ll be joining the Order as soon as we graduate, so we will definitely find out then”.

“Oh, I think he will object to me being present”, Harry said ruefully.

“Why?”, asked Fiddler a little confused. “I thought that you’re being specially armed for the final battle”.

“So I am”, Harry said. “But he hates me all the same”.

“Ever wondered why?”

“More than once, believe me!”, Ginny informed, shrugging. “Sometimes it seems we speak of nothing but it”.

Harry rolled his eyes with a suffering expression, and Ginny kissed his cheek in silent apology.

“Harry’s father used to hex Professor Snape for the fun of it”, Hermione clarified, because by then everybody knew what Harry had seen on the Pensieve during his failed Occlumency lessons. “So apparently Professor Snape seems to believe somehow Harry should pay for it”.

“He was such a disgusting slimeball”, Ron said fervently. “He had it coming, I am sure. Didn’t he, Harry? HARRY?”

“Yeah…”, Harry replied absently. “He had it coming”.

And Fer ser suddenly got a mental image of two twin snakes biting each other’s tails, one of bright green color and glowing with anger, and the other one knotted with fuming hues of crimson, full of pity and stubbornly denied comprehension…
Then the image exploded in a murderous ray of green light and banished.

“You don’t really think he had it coming, do you?”, they all gaat hat her, bewildered, and Fiddler continued. “Oh, you pity him for the taunted boy he was, but you can’t forgive him for a death you feel he ought to respond for, yet deep in you, you know it wasn’t of his making. But it’s always easier to hate and deny than to understand, and he hasn’t made it any easier… has he?”

No one said a word for quite a while. Finally, Ron whispered: “Blimey, you should replace Trelawney!”, almost at the same time as Harry asked somewhat hoarsely how the hell had she guessed all that.

“I don’t really know”, she answered honestly. “Ever since I can remember I’ve been able to… um… shall we say so, to extract images from other people’s minds when a particularly strong emotion is involved; thi this ability has increased since I got here, mostly because Albus has been helping me out”.

“That is most interesting indeed”, said a cold, drawling voice behind them, making them jump. “I should have known, Potter, that you couldn’t keep your mouth closed for the life of you”.

It was Snape, standing martially with his arms crossed over his chest, glancing below at them with such scorn that even Fiddler felt uncomfortable. The wind was making his long cloak fly around him and bringing his rather lank hair to his face, but it didn’t diminish his imposing dignity in the least. On the contrary, it almost seemed like he’d conjured the wind to add dramatism to his words.
No one dared to speak. Snape’s dark eyes darted from the castle to the five wizards sitting on the grass, and added in his very low, sneering trademark voice:

“You are off boundaries. I believe that will cost you ten points each. Including your… new friend”.

“You can’t dock points off her”, Harry said peevishly. “She hasn’t got a House!”

“I believe I had told you more than thrice to call me ‘sir’, Potter”, was Snape’s reply. “I will have ten more points for that. And as for our guest here, well, I am sure Gryffindors will not mind the loss of points in exchange of the honor of having her as a Resident in your Tower”.

And with that he was gone, his cloak fluttering at his back like batwings.

“Stupid git”, Ron said, when he was sure the dark man wouldn’t hear him.

“Well, he finally got even with the song thing”, Fiddler mumbled thoughtfully.

“What?”

“Um… nothing… just a song that seemed to unease him when we met. Somehow I knew he’d get even, because he doesn’t look like the sort of man that enjoys that kind of exposure”.

“Well, if he only could dock ten points off you he’s losing his touch”, said Harry cheerfully.

They all laughed at that, even Fiddler, because it was really a petty vengeance.

“Don’t be thick, Harry, can’t you tell he’s afraid of her?”, Hermione asked as if she couldn’t believe it.

“What?!?”

“Didn’t you notice that he didn’t so much as look at her? That he didn’t even once address to her directly?”

The kids and Fiddler all turned to look at Hermione.

“You know something, I think you’re right!”, Ginny said, and Hermione beamed with pride.

“Wicked!”, Ron exclaimed. “Now we have a way to get him off backbacks when he acts like an arse!!! ‘Boo, Fiddler’!”

And laughing their guts out at the silly joke, they made their way back to the castle.


~§~

On his way to his dungeons, Snape ran into the giant hourglasses that recorded House points, and stopped to stare at them, hoping to see the one belonging to Gryffindor somewhat diminished. And yes, he counted maliciously, fifty rubies less. But he’d docked sixty points alltogether if he counted the twenty he’d had from Potter and ten from… Fiddler. But only fifty were gone, and as a sneaking suspicion grew in the back of his mind, his ferocious gaze focused on Hufflepuff’s, and as it seemed intact, his eyes flicked then to Slytherin and Ravenclaw Hourglasses.

And realised they both had been docked ten points.









A/N.
TBC, Please R&R!!!
Once again, thanx a million to my beta reader Ian!!!

Disclaimer: All characters and HP universe belong to J.K. Rowling, except for the ones you don’t recognize. The plot as well is mine and solely mine!! No profit is being made!!!!