To Know Who I Am

Acknowledgements: A thousand thanks to my amazing beta ubiquirk who has helped to make this much better than it was when it started. Any remaining errors are entirely my fault.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize and I'm not making any money from this. If you think otherwise, there's this nice room in St. Mungo's for you.

Chapter 4

The way Minerva explained it, ever since the Tri-Wizard Tournament ten years ago, students had expressed an interest in continuing to have dances at the school. The Muggle-born students had especially agitated for this, citing the dances held in Muggle schools and – more importantly – movies. So, in her second year as Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall instituted two annual dances: one just before the Christmas holidays and one on the weekend closest to Valentine’s Day. They had gone surprisingly well and thus had become an annual tradition. Hence the gown Celia had been told to bring. She figured she could just transfigure its color for the two events. Red could be Christmas or Valentine’s, so she went with green for Christmas. A simple strand of pearls and long white gloves trimmed in silver thread – and shoes to match – completed her look, she thought. She hoped. Even after talking with Aurora and Minerva, she wasn’t sure if this was really what was expected.

They said it sounded fine. Too bad the faculty don’t try out their outfits together like the students probably do. Feedback before I make an idiot of myself would be nice.

Wearing her hair down was the one decision she wasn’t questioning. Mostly she pinned it up to get it out of the way, but what was the point of keeping it long at all if you couldn’t let it loose for dressing up? A couple of combs kept it from falling into her face and several dollops of mousse should be enough to keep it from frizzing up halfway through the night. She forced herself to stop fussing with it as she made her way from her cottage into the castle.

When she entered the Great Hall, she gasped at the transformation it had undergone. The twelve giant Christmas trees had been there for a week, but now they were fully decorated and lighted with what appeared to be either very large fireflies or faeries. The walls were swathed in evergreen branches and holly, decorated in bows of each House’s colors, one wall dedicated to each. The House tables were lining the walls tonight, covered with an insane amount of food considering it was only two hours since dinner.

Many of the other faculty had already arrived except the Heads of the Houses. She supposed they had all sorts of last-minute problems to deal with. Hagrid was there, as were Septima, Firenze, Irma, and Poppy. She approached the dais that normally held the staff table a little nervously.

At least I’m early enough that I can fix this if anyone gives me weird looks.

“What a lovely color on you,” Poppy said by way of greeting.

“Thanks,” she replied with a sigh of relief. Wait, the color’s okay, but does that mean otherwise it’s horrible? “It was kind of hard to be sure what would be appropriate. You don’t think it looks too young or … anything?”

“No, it’s fine,” the nurse assured her.

“That’s a relief. You look great, too,” she added belatedly. Poppy just smiled.

Good, now I only needed to worry about chaperoning – and possibly dancing. I wonder if I’m supposed to dance with Firenze or Hagrid. Or Filius, for that matter. They’re sweet, all of them, but how would that work? I’d probably embarrass myself and them while I was at it.

As she thought this, the doors of the Great Hall opened wide, and streams of students entered, led by their Heads of House. Her eyes went immediately to Aurora Sinistra, the next-youngest female faculty member, and she was relieved to see she was wearing a gown only slightly more concealing than her own. And I see dress robes are almost as good as tuxes, she thought, catching her breath as her gaze settled briefly on Severus. Or possibly better. Damn, that formalwear’s dangerous. She tore her eyes away and forced her attention back to the doors, where Minerva was entering at last. When Severus stepped up onto the dais before her, she very deliberately avoided his eyes and offered a brief nod, which he echoed before turning in a swirl of robes to face the student body.

Minerva gave some sort of speech, but about what Celia had no idea. At least it was short. Then the music began and the faculty spread out to their assigned posts to keep an eye on the students. She noted with interest that Minerva was dancing with Harry and Poppy with Filius, who was using a levitation charm that canceled out the height difference. Of course. I should have realized. Though I’m still not sure how anyone would manage to dance with Firenze. After two songs, those four faculty members left the floor, and she found herself being invited to the floor by Hagrid. She accepted gracefully and wondered if she ought to put some sort of strengthening charm on her shoes.

Fortunately the music playing was a very slow waltz. Reaching his shoulder was out of the question unless she used a levitation charm herself, so she settled for his elbow. When it switched to a much faster two-step, she begged off.

“I – don’t think I know this one,” she said with a wobbly smile.

“Tha’s all righ’,” he replied with a wink. “Think I migh’ jus’ have a bit of a snack.”

He actually did walk over to one of the tables and grab some cakes. At least he didn’t seem offended. Walking back to her post, she wondered if that would excuse her from the floor for the rest of the night. That’d probably be a good thing. Love the dancing. Less crazy for the music. And when the good stuff comes on later, I’m pretty sure it would be undignified for a teacher to be dancing.

She watched the students impassively. So far none of them had done anything that she thought required a reprimand of any kind. Most likely the mere presence of all the faculty was enough to keep them in line for now. The real fun comes later. At least odds are none of them will go outside where I’ll be patrolling, because me dumping cold water on horny teens? Pretty ironic. She shook her head at the thought.

“No? But I have not even asked yet,” Severus said. She turned to face him and flushed, looking down at her hands quickly. And for my next act, I’ll hold a conversation with myself out loud in a crowded room.

“I was thinking about something,” she said, looking back up but still not meeting his gaze. “Sorry, what were you going to ask?”

“I was going to ask you to dance,” he said, his tone clearly conveying that she had just asked a question every bit as stupid as any he heard in his classroom.

“Oh,” she looked up. “Right. Sure.” She fixed a pleasant but neutral smile on her face and allowed herself to be led onto the dance floor. This was seriously dangerous. Why did he have to look so – well, handsome wasn’t exactly the word, maybe striking? She focused on controlling her breathing and her mind as he swept her into position for the Viennese waltz that had just begun. A jolt of static startled her as she set her hand on his shoulder.

“Lovely gown,” he said, making what she assumed was polite conversation as they started to dance. That was unexpected, considering that even during their more pleasant discussions of her research he wasn’t much for the small talk.

“Thank you,” she replied.

“Declaring yourself a Slytherin, are you?”

Startled, she looked up and caught his eyes. “Hardly,” she said with a little laugh. “Green seemed appropriate for Christmas and, you know, an herbologist.”

“I see.”

“Since it’ll be red and gold for Valentine’s, I guess that would be seen as a declaration for Gryffindor?”

“Perhaps.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever understand the importance you people put on House membership. Rivalries in the States tend to be between whole schools, not parts of them.”

He didn’t reply, and she pulled her eyes from his. No sign that he’d tried Legilimency on her, but there was no point in pushing it. She focused on the music and allowed her eyes to close. I can’t believe he’s so graceful. I mean, it shouldn’t surprise me, considering the way he moves. But I never imagined him dancing till a few minutes ago when he was with Irma. Even in this whirling dance, she could pick up his every cue literally with her eyes closed though she couldn’t quite say how. It was enjoyable. She imagined his robes and her gown as they must be swirling about them.

“It is generally considered polite to at least look at the person you are dancing with,” he said after a moment.

Her eyes flew open. “Sorry,” she said. “It’s just that you lead very well. With my eyes closed, it felt like we were dancing on the music itself.”

He raised his eyebrows but said no more until the song ended and he led her back to where he had found her.

“Thank you,” she said with a little bob that was about as close as she would ever get to a curtsey.

“You’re welcome,” he replied evenly with a small nod. She watched as he swept away from her and through the sea of students back to his position along the Slytherin side of the room. And I’m supposed to make what of that, exactly? Just a mandatory faculty dance or what? She turned her attention to the students nearest her and schooled her features to as neutral a smile as she could manage.

~ ~ ~

Gazing impassively at the swarm of dancing students, Severus mentally added the new data he had collected on Professor Reese. She still avoided his gaze whenever she could. He did not believe that outrageous comment about “dancing on the music” for a minute. He did, however, think it would be a very bad idea to actually try Legilimency on her. Clearly she was afraid he would and would no doubt know it if he did. But to the list of her unusual abilities, he now added a rather amazing cardiovascular capacity. He had chosen the nearly frantic Viennese waltz for that reason, of course, and had taken Eloquor Spirabilis so that he would not end up gasping for breath himself. She, he was quite sure, had taken nothing of the kind but had spoken and even laughed while they were dancing without seeming at all discommoded. Even now it looked as though she had done nothing more strenuous than walk across the room.

He noticed also that a strand of her hair had attached itself to his sleeve. That could be useful to analyze, he thought, plucking at the sleeve as if fussing over it and transferring the hair surreptitiously to one of his pockets.

~ ~ ~

When he returned to the Slytherin dungeons after finishing his rounds, Severus bypassed the portrait that guarded his quarters and went instead into the Potions laboratory, warding the door shut behind him. Almost reflexively, he Summoned a cauldron and stirring rod onto his preferred work surface as he proceeded to his storage closet for the ingredients he would need. Once he had arranged the ingredients, he pulled out the hair and examined it. It was a long one, fortunately, and even more fortunately it had a partial follicle tag. A bit of flesh would be much more effective in one of the tests he had planned. It was also coated in some Muggle concoction, which he removed with a Cleansing Charm and a sneer. He stretched the strand out on his work surface and cut it into four equal pieces, which he then set carefully aside.

He meticulously weighed, sliced, chopped, ground, and finally added and stirred the first set of ingredients over a low flame. Once the brew had reached a creamy consistency and a vaguely blue-grey tone, he stood back to let it simmer and took a moment to remove his dress robe and frock coat. Even on the longest night of the year, even in the dungeons, standing over a potion for nearly an hour had him sweating. And students thought his classes were held here for the atmosphere. His hair, which he thought might have actually been passable for the dance, was once again hanging limply about his face. He grabbed a leather thong from his pocket and tied it back.

After fifteen minutes had passed, he returned to the cauldron and saw that the color had developed nicely to the precise shade of slate blue he wanted. Stirring slowly, he added the first piece of hair and watched intently. After nearly two minutes, he had to admit there was no change. Not only was she not a werewolf, which he had already deduced logically, but she was not any other type of animal-human hybrid nor even an Animagus. He picked up his wand.

“Evanesco,” he cast with a note of regret in his voice, and the potion vanished. It would have been the simplest explanation, after all.

He donned his protective gloves and began the next – more volatile – potion immediately. Nearly another hour had passed before he was ready to add the second piece of hair to this mixture, which was a violently boiling acid green. Once he had added the hair, he took a prudent step backwards and waited for several breaths before approaching it. No change here, either. He sighed. He hadn’t really thought she was using Polyjuice, but he’d had to rule it out. After all, while whatever Celia Reese’s mission here was might be legitimate, she would not have been the first Hogwarts professor to be impersonated. He vanished the potion and started to work on the third.

This one took less time but required excruciating precision. Once the ingredients were prepared, he took a moment to strengthen the wards on his lab and added a silencing charm. Then he relit the flame beneath the cauldron and began.

In mere minutes it was ready, shimmering a pearlescent white. He added the piece of hair that had the follicle tag, stirring it in slowly, poised to get out of the way if the reaction were positive.

That’s … odd, he thought, as he watched the hair dissolve, leaving a trail of smoky grey behind it that swirled across the potion’s surface. He continued to stir, anticipating some sort of delayed reaction that never came. Had she been a demon, even part demon, the reaction should have been immediate and potentially explosive depending on the species. This, however, was unprecedented. Human, then, but with just the slightest touch of … something. How convenient that she “does not know” her true parents.

He vanished the potion and began to work on the final test. He had thought it almost irrelevant, a habitual test more than anything, something left from his Death Eater days. There was a potion that would determine whether a potential recruit was actually Muggle-born and it had been used regularly to screen for infiltrators. Not that any Muggle-borns had ever tried to join up, to his knowledge. The young woman claimed not to know her heritage but for some reason referred to herself as Muggle-raised, not -born. That was something she had clearly not intended to reveal in that interesting conversation with Potter last month, but he wasn’t sure why. What little she had said suggested a near certainty that she would, in fact, have been Muggle-born. So did she hedge out of a scientist’s need to say only what was certain, as would be consistent with what he’d observed in their discussions of her research, or because she knew or suspected otherwise? The potion would not tell him that, of course. However, now that the possibility that she had at least some trace of demonic heritage had been raised, well, perhaps the answer to this question might be of some use.

After more careful measuring, chopping, and stirring, it was ready. He added the fourth and last piece of hair to the simmering red broth-like potion. If she were a pureblood, it would remain as it was. If she were Muggle-born, it would turn a muddy brown. As he stirred, it began to darken. His eyes narrowed, and the crease between his brows deepened. The particular rusty shade it had turned indicated that she was a precisely half-blooded witch.

Interesting. But what does any of it actually mean? he thought as he vanished the potion and cleared away his tools and supplies. He glanced at the clock. Nearly four-thirty. Tomorrow morning most of the students would be leaving for the Christmas holiday, and he would have to deal with any number of problems with his Slytherins. He sighed and forced himself to let his questions go for now so that he could get at least a little sleep.

~ ~ ~

With a gasp, Celia sat straight up in bed, her eyes wide and her heart pounding. She swallowed several times and allowed her breathing to return to normal, then swung out of bed. Grabbing a piece of parchment and quill from her desk, she jotted down a quick note, threw on some clothes, and headed for the owlery. Once there, she glanced over the note one last time before giving it to one of the school owls with delivery instructions.

G.

The dreams have started again. I’m already here!

C.

Satisfied that was the best she could do at this hour, Celia returned to her cottage. She briefly considered swinging by the hospital wing to see if Poppy had had any customers for Dreamless Sleep, then decided against it. If the girl had been activated tonight, the last thing she needed was one of her teachers running in half-dressed and asking about her. Grateful that she did not have any particular duties related to the students’ departure in a few hours, she sank back into bed.

~ ~ ~

The next afternoon, Celia was late arriving for lunch. She had skipped breakfast completely and stopped by the hospital wing to check in with Poppy on her way to the Great Hall. Despite the letter she had owled, she had a sinking feeling she knew why her dreams had returned: the girl she was here to guide and protect must have come into her powers. The message was as simple as it had always been. “Please, get to Hogwarts and protect my baby,” the woman had said. Over and over and over. And over. Well, she was already here, so obviously something had happened.

Or was that really it? Most of the students had left for the Christmas holiday this morning. Maybe that was the key. The girl might be one of the few remaining at Hogwarts over the break. That would certainly narrow things down. There were only about a dozen students staying, and of the girls, there were three Ravenclaws, two Hufflepuffs, and one each from Gryffindor and Slytherin.

As she entered the Great Hall, she noticed that it had been changed again since the dance. The usual House tables were gone, and the staff table was no longer on the dais. Instead it was in the center of the Hall and set for all the remaining students and faculty to sit around it. The meal had already started, but there was an empty seat between Hagrid and a Hufflepuff second year. She made her apologies and slipped into the chair.

“Missed ye at breakfast,” Hagrid said.

“Mm,” she answered around a sip of pumpkin juice. “I got a bit of a late start.”

Hagrid’s eyes narrowed. “Ye don’ look like ye slept a wink.”

Celia smiled weakly. “You sure know how to make a gal feel good.”

“I didn’ mean …”

“I know you didn’t; I’m just teasing,” she assured him. “I’m sure most of us didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Hmph,” was all Hagrid said to that as he applied himself once more to his lunch.

The rest of the meal passed with moderate amounts of small talk. If nothing else, Celia managed to determine that Miss Boulstridge, the second-year Hufflepuff, had had a very good night’s sleep, thank you, was looking forward to Christmas, and was thoroughly intimidated by the prospect of any more personal conversation with her Herbology teacher.

Most of the other teachers appeared reasonably well-rested, she thought, though Severus was rather glaringly absent. Surely any trouble with his students had been resolved by now, as the three who had not left, one fourth-year boy, one fifth-year girl, and Lightfeather, were all here at the table. She shrugged mentally. He probably knew from experience what the dining arrangements would be and preferred to stay away. Even though she felt she’d come to know him a little better recently, there was no arguing the fact he was terribly standoffish, particularly with the students.

When lunch was over, Celia made to return to her cottage, but Hagrid waylaid her just outside the castle.

“Celia, are ye all right?” he asked gruffly.

“I’m fine, Hagrid. Don’t tell me I look that bad!”

“It’s just … well, I was out early this mornin’ and I saw ye rushing off to the castle.”

“Oh,” she said. “That.”

“Yes, tha’.”

“I was just off to the owlery.”

“At that hour?”

“Yes, well …” she looked around to be sure no one was nearby. “I had that dream, Hagrid. Same one that sent me here in the first place. So I reported in.”

“Have ye tol’ McGonagall?”

“Of course. And I checked in with Poppy. I thought for sure she’d have had a visit from our mystery girl, but so far, no.”

“What do you suppose, then?”

“Well, if she was activated last night, she hasn’t decided she needs Dreamless Sleep yet. Or maybe the dream just indicates she’s one of the seven girls who stayed for the holidays, even though she hasn’t been activated yet. Or maybe … some other thing that I haven’t thought of.”

“This dream stuff’s pretty slippery, innit?”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “Even when they seem straightforward, half the time they’re just vague clues. Useful when you can figure them out, of course, but frustrating as hell when you can’t.”

They had reached her cottage.

“Hagrid, what did you think …”

“Well, that’s just it, innit?” he replied. “I couldn’t imagine what had ye tearing around looking like that so early. And then ye weren’ at breakfast …”

“No worries, Hagrid,” she said. “But if you were that concerned, you should have just checked with Minerva.”

“Hmph. Wasn’ sure that’d be a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Well, doesn’ matter now,” he said, turning to leave. Before he had quite turned, though, Celia thought she saw a hint of a blush peeking out from just above his beard. “Jes’ glad to know ye’re okay.”

“See you later, then. And thanks.”

“Fer what?”

“For worrying. It’s kind of sweet.”

Celia was almost sure now that he was blushing. Oh, boy. I hope he’s not thinking … I really don’t need any more complications right now.

Turning to open the door to her cottage, she noticed an owl perched in the branches of a nearby shrub. She let the owl in, dug around for an Owl Treat, and retrieved the letter from its leg. She read it twice before setting it down on the kitchen table, disappointed.

C.

Working on it. Stay alert. And discreet.

G.

With a sigh and an almost absent wave of her wand, she reduced the slip of parchment to ashes.

~ ~ ~

The next morning, Celia made it to breakfast in plenty of time. She sat next to one of the Ravenclaw girls and again tried striking up a leading conversation that ultimately led nowhere.

She periodically looked over at the Christmas trees in mild wonder. They looked exactly as they had since the dance the other night, but now she knew a bit more about the magic involved. Yesterday afternoon, she had persuaded Harry to accompany her to Hogsmeade so that she could find appropriate presents for the other faculty members who had remained. She’d been horrified to learn that the faculty and staff who stayed did, in fact, exchange gifts. The few jobs she’d held where gift-giving was done at all had always used either a Secret Santa or some other system that reduced the problem to coming up with just one gift for someone she barely knew.

Hagrid had been easy: his crossbow needed tuning, and she’d found the perfect kit at Dervish and Banges. After their conversation yesterday, she was a little concerned he might misinterpret the spirit of the gift, but it really was the perfect thing for him. The rest were getting stationery and quill sets, decorated for the appropriate House. In exchange for his assistance, she had tried to help Harry find a gift for his friend Hermione Granger. I’m not sure anything I said was helpful, and I’m pretty sure that she’s not actually going to be ecstatic over a bunch of tricks from Zonko’s, but what do I know? At least he seemed happy with them. And he’s got a point about buying books for bookworms.

He’d been even happier to show her how the trees worked and looked way too amused as she’d placed her wrapped and addressed gifts each under the appropriate tree and watched in shock as they vanished. The gifts would, he’d told her, turn up at the foot of the addressees’ beds on Christmas morning. She shook her head as she thought of it.

An owl landing beside her coffee snapped her out of her reverie. She offered it a bit of bacon and slipped the parchment off its leg. She leaned back in her seat and unrolled the letter carefully.

C.

I warned you. W. says your aura shows signs of tampering, although she believes your secret is still safe. Inform Minerva but take no action yourself.

G.

Calmly, she rose and walked around to the head of the table. She handed the letter to the Headmistress and excused herself, saying there was something she needed to take care of.

“Certainly, Professor Reese,” McGonagall said. Then she read the letter. “Professor Reese,” she called out, “please wait.”

Celia had already left the Great Hall and ignored the Headmistress’ request as readily as she was ignoring the directive to “take no action.” Take no action? Who does he think he’s kidding? If somebody around here has been “tampering with my aura,” then I know exactly who it is, and he’s going to explain himself.

There really weren’t a whole lot of likely suspects. Spells to spy on her wouldn’t leave that sort of evidence. But potions using some part of her essence? Oh, that would do it.

No physical violence, she told herself. Probably shouldn’t hex him either. But he’s not getting away with this. She considered and discarded a number of possibilities before she arrived. As she approached the public door to his office, she drew her wand and then pounded loudly.

~ ~ ~

Someone was pounding heavily on his office door. Could they not last two days without some emergency?

“Enter,” he called out without looking up from the essay he was grading.

Two feminine hands slammed down on his desk, one holding a wand.

“What the hell did you do?” she demanded.

He looked up briefly at the distraught Herbology professor, then returned his attention to the essay before him.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” he replied calmly.

“I’m sure you do,” she snapped. “Two nights ago, someone did a bit of magic that caused my aura to look visibly tampered with. I have a fair idea what and how, and you’re the only person here besides myself likely to know how to brew those potions.”

“And what potions would those be?” he asked, still writing. And how, exactly, could she know that?

“All I know for certain is you didn’t hit the right one,” she admitted, “so I’m actually pretty interested to know what you tried and what the hell you thought you were going to accomplish.”

Finally, he set down his quill and looked up at her. He was startled when she locked her gaze on his.

“I have not said I did anything of the sort,” he said, his eyes narrowing but not leaving hers. He was tempted to determine exactly how much she knew, or rather, how much she thought she did. However, there was the minor problem that she would most likely realize what he was about and might even be capable of blocking him. In fact … “Though I am quite curious what you think you are going to accomplish.”

“I’m not leaving this room without answers and an apology.”

“Then you are going to be in this room for a very long time.”

“I really doubt that.” She hadn’t released his eyes from hers, and her expression was so studiously blank it was obvious she was practicing an extremely rudimentary form of Occlumency with some effort. Small wonder, considering she was obviously quite upset.

“By all means,” he was saying, his voice low and dangerous, “try it. You really do not know who you are dealing with. I have stood before two of the world’s most accomplished Legilimens. Do you think you can do better than they? Or perhaps you are simply planning on a staring contest.”

Her fingers convulsed around her wand, and he wondered if she would actually attempt Legilimency on him. It might be amusing if she did, as he was quite certain she would not find what she was seeking or, indeed, anything at all. The Headmistress might be displeased, however. Unlike Albus, she had on many occasions expressed a severe distaste for the art and would probably overreact. He watched the set of Reese’s features shift ever so slightly just before she averted her eyes. He smirked.

“The fact that you invaded my privacy doesn’t justify me invading your mind,” she said. “But I still want answers and I still want that apology.”

“Yes, of course, it’s not that you cannot do it,” he sneered. “You are simply too noble. I’m quite certain you would have been an excellent Gryffindor.” After her comment about inter-House rivalries, I trust she will realize that was not a compliment.

“I notice you didn’t try either,” she pointed out. “Funny, considering you were willing to analyze … what was it, by the way? Some of my hair, I’d guess. That’d be easiest. So, yes, you were willing to put yourself through what must have been hours of work to try and figure me out, but when I’m standing right in front of you, staring you down, you don’t even try to have a look in my head? As I understand it, that’s not very Slytherin of you. Maybe you should have been a Gryffindor.”

“I think,” came a voice from the doorway, “that I am quite glad neither one of you have ever been Gryffindors.” The Headmistress stepped into the room. “I am also glad that you have both showed at least some restraint. It would be most difficult to find replacements for either of you at this point in the year.”

Celia winced, clearly surprised to find Minerva standing there. No, there had been no sound to indicate her arrival, but then cats did have their ways of getting about quietly.

He pushed his chair back from his desk to stand.

“Remain seated, Severus,” the Headmistress continued. “And Celia, you sit down too.”

The younger woman complied as Minerva walked around to the side of the desk so that she could stare down at them both as if they were a pair of students she had caught throwing jinxes at each other in the hallway.

“I am very disappointed in you both,” she said. She held up a rolled-up bit of parchment and pointed it first at him. “Severus, did you or did you not perform experiments to learn more about Celia and her origins?”

“Yes, Headmistress,” he replied, allowing a slightly embarrassed tone to slip into his voice.

“If you had concerns about another member of the staff, why didn’t you simply bring those concerns to me?”

He did not answer right away.

“I’m waiting,” she said.

Quirrell? Lockhart? Lupin? Moody? Umbridge? Well, all right, everyone agreed about Umbridge. Still, really, woman, how many reasons do I need?

“I thought I should have evidence before making any accusations,” he said at last.

“I see.” The rolled-up parchment swung to point at the Herbologist. “And Celia, why did you disobey a direct order to take no action beyond informing me of this problem?”

She winced again before she spoke. “I let my temper get the better of me, Headmistress.”

“I see,” McGonagall repeated. “I am glad to see you reined it in before doing something irrevocable.”

Silence fell as the Headmistress appeared to consider the situation.

“Severus, I am fully aware of Celia’s nature and her reasons for being here, and she has my full confidence. When it is time for the rest of the faculty to be made aware of these things, you will necessarily be the first to know.”

“Yes, Headmistress.”

“Now, will you please tell me, and Celia, exactly what sort of tests you did and why?”

With a much put-upon sigh, he described the four potions. When he came to the third, Minerva looked questioningly at Celia.

“That tracks,” Celia said. “I don’t entirely understand it, but … it makes sense that the result would be odd like that.”

She is not surprised. There is something vaguely demonic about her, she doesn’t quite understand it, and she is not surprised.

The Headmistress nodded and returned her attention to Severus, who continued. Celia appeared baffled when he explained the final test he had run.

“Why would you even care about that?” she asked. “I can see the others. Obviously I’d be a potential danger if I were a demon or a Polyjuiced imposter. Maybe not so much the animal thing. But what possible difference could it make whether I’m Muggle-born?”

He shrugged. “You had let it slip that you did not know your ancestry. And I confess it was something of an old, bad habit.”

Her eyes narrowed and he realized belatedly that he had quoted something she had said that day in Hagrid’s cabin. A foolish slip. She took a long, slow breath and said nothing.

“Aren’t you going to ask the result?” He knew it was not considered as important a matter in the Americas, but surely someone who knew nothing of her origins would be at least mildly curious?

“Why would I? It’s not like it would tell me anything meaningful about who my biological parents were.”

“Perhaps not, but I thought you might find it interesting to know that you are not, in fact, Muggle-born.”

She appeared stunned.

“I see,” was all she managed to say.

“You are, in fact, precisely half-blood,” he continued.

“That doesn’t exactly narrow things down, then,” she said with apparent difficulty. “Either parent could be magical or Muggle.”

“That is true.”

She appeared to give the matter some thought.

“I didn’t think I needed to know that,” she said at last, “but … it does at least answer some old questions. I’ll admit I’m grateful for that bit of information, but I’m still furious that you ran these tests without my knowledge or consent.”

“You would hardly have permitted me to run them if you were, in fact, hiding something.”

“That is not the point …”

“Enough!” The Headmistress glared at them both. “Severus, I believe you owe Celia an apology.”

He glared at her as he said, “I apologize for violating your privacy.”

“Celia?”

She glared back at him. “I accept your apology.”

“Good,” Minerva said. “Now, one last item. While I cannot tell you the precise nature of Celia’s mission here, I have decided to tell you one part of it.”

Celia’s eyes widened at this.

Severus maintained his most studied blank expression.

“She is here to look after a specific female student who has yet to be identified. This student is as unaware of her special status as the rest of us are of her identity, and one of the first signs Celia expects is for the young lady to begin having recurrent nightmares that resist the usual potions to suppress them.”

“I see,” he said noncommittally. That is not precisely news, though it does indicate the dreams are not the entire problem, merely a symptom.

“Ultimately, this student will need to learn to cope with these dreams, and that is part of the work Celia will undertake with her when the time comes. In the meantime, this is the reason behind her research.” She paused. “I understand you have been collaborating with her on that research, and I am asking you to continue to do so.”

Celia bit her lip.

“Yes, Headmistress,” he said.

“Do you think you can trust my judgment and refrain from any additional ‘research’ on her, Severus?”

“Yes, Headmistress.”

“Celia, can you continue to work with Severus on this and keep better control of your temper?”

“Yes, Headmistress.” She swallowed, and he wondered what she had to be nervous about. “I do still think the other Heads of House should know at least this edited version.”

Ah. Well, that would seem prudent, or it would have in September. Now they will wonder why they were kept in the dark until the holidays. Better to wait until the student is identified, I should imagine.

Professor McGonagall looked at her carefully. “I will take your recommendation under advisement.”

Celia nodded, clearly realizing that was the best she was likely to get today.

“In the meantime,” McGonagall continued, “you will both hold everything we have discussed here in the strictest confidence.”

“Yes, Headmistress,” they said, nearly in unison and then glared at each other.

“Good, then I expect you both to get back to whatever you were planning to do today, and Severus, I expect to start seeing you at meals again.”

He only grunted in reply to this.

Celia nodded to McGonagall, turned, and left.

Severus looked down at the essay he had been grading briefly before setting it aside with a snarl. How had the chit learned of what he had done? How in Merlin’s name had Minerva become aware of it? He would never be able to pry that information from either of them now.

Damn them both for getting me to agree not to investigate her any further!

That brought him up short. He had only agreed not to investigate Reese specifically. That actually left rather a lot of room for other research. Truly, if he were to be of any real assistance with her research, he should understand more of the implications for the student who would be in need of this experimental remedy. Any changes in metabolism would, of course, have serious ramifications in terms of the development of any potion.

Picking up his wand, he spoke the password that opened the tapestry leading from his office to his private quarters and wordlessly Summoned a book. Several disarming spells later, the book would no longer flood the room with toxic vapors when he opened it. He paged through the index until he found a handful of references to humans with “demonic qualities and/or heritage.” He skipped the first few sections. She spent far too much time in direct sunlight for anything there to be applicable.

~ ~ ~

The morning of Christmas Eve found Celia puttering around “her” greenhouse. She had finally sent off an exceedingly terse note after breakfast.

You’ve probably heard from M. by now. The situation’s under control. I told you this secrecy business would backfire.

Her continued attempts to draw the young ladies who had stayed for the holidays into conversation were clearly hopeless, she was still furious over what Severus had done and what she had almost done, and she was more confused than ever about what the recurrence of the dream meant. It had returned several times last night, disturbing her sleep and leaving her even more irritated than she would have been anyway.

Of course, this wasn’t the plants’ fault, and she was trying not to take it out on them as she repotted several bubotubers. As she set yet another newly repotted plant down, a small reddish-brown snake slithered out onto her work surface. Surprised, she picked it up and looked it over carefully. She shook her head.

“You do realize you should have stayed outside and hibernated, don’t you? There’s really not going to be many mice or bugs for you in here.” The smooth snake flicked its tongue at her. She sighed. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll find you something. Goddess knows what you’ve been living on all this time. You should’ve been asleep months ago.” She chuckled softly and set it back down onto the table. It slithered over to another batch of potted plants, and she frowned when she noticed which ones.

Right. Two days until the full moon, so Severus was going to need the aconite and vinca today. Maybe she should just summon a house elf to bring one of the pots to him and then bring her a bit of raw meat for her guest. Forget that. It’s not like the elves don’t have enough to do without me making more work for them. I should just deliver them and go to the kitchens after. Her mind made up, she squared her shoulders, cast a quick cleansing charm on her hands and robes, donned her mittens and cloak, selected one of the pots containing the two plants, tossed a cloth over it, and headed out. The cloth was probably overkill for such a short walk, but oh well.

Once she was in the castle, she had to admit it had been a very good idea to shelter the plants. She felt just short of frostbitten from the few moments she’d been outside, and now, while it was nice to be out of the wind, she was wondering if she would thaw out any time soon.

Castles are all dramatic and romantic but even with magic they really don’t exactly stay warm.

As she turned into the hallway toward the dungeons, she was greeted by young Mr. Lightfeather, who was running in the opposite direction.

“Hi Professor!”

“Hello, Mr. Lightfeather. Where are you off to?”

“I’m supposed to go help Hagrid with something.”

She widened her eyes. “Well, get to it, then.”

She watched as he ran back toward the Entrance Hall. He’s come so far. And what a difference when Jarvis isn’t around to torture him. Something about that gave her pause, and she became thoughtful as she continued on her errand.

When she arrived at Severus’ office door, she knocked a bit more quietly than yesterday. There was no answer. She sighed and wondered where she ought to try next. She didn’t know where his private quarters were and doubted he would be in his classroom. He probably had another lab somewhere for his own work, after all, but she had no idea where that was.

Well, the classroom is pretty much the only place I can just up and leave the plants, and he’ll probably go in there sometime.

She barely gave a quick knock before opening the classroom door and walking in, so she was surprised to hear his curt “Enter” as she was already doing so. She only allowed herself to stop for a split second before continuing down the steps toward the front table where he was working over a large cauldron.

“Professor Reese,” he said, “to what do I owe this … pleasure?”

She set down the pot containing the two plants and removed the cloth that was covering them.

“I believe you will be needing these shortly. I needed to come into the castle anyway, so I decided to bring them.”

She paused, not expecting a response but also not sure how to say what she wanted to say next.

He nodded, then asked, “Was there anything else?”

“Yes.” She took a breath. “I encountered Mr. Lightfeather as I was on my way here, and he reminded me of something.”

A raised eyebrow was the only acknowledgement that she had spoken. He did not interrupt his stirring nor look away from the cauldron for more than a split second.

“I’ve always been very protective of children. I’ve even been accused of being a bit overprotective, especially of the smaller ones, and if I believe a child is being seriously threatened, there is very little that I won’t do to prevent them coming to harm.” Insane mother bear on crack, according to … well. He looked up at that. “You have the care of these children on your shoulders more than any of us except Minerva. I’m still seriously annoyed about what you did, but I can’t say I wouldn’t have done something similar in your shoes.”

He flicked a measuring glance at her as she continued. “I was warned before I came here not to trust you. However, from the first staff meeting, I have never seen any reason I shouldn’t. As you have helped me with my work, I felt we were building a decent professional rapport, which is why I felt betrayed by what you did the other night. I apologize for my … excessive response to that.”

He nodded guardedly.

“Why did you think you needed evidence just to raise a concern to Minerva?” she asked. “I would need evidence, but I’m new around here. You’re the Deputy Headmaster.”

It took a moment for him to answer. “I have raised concerns about colleagues before. Those concerns have never been acted upon until damage had already been done.”

“I see.” She paused. Something about that felt ever so slightly off. “That’s not all of it, but I can see that’s all you’re going to say.”

He shot her a questioning look.

“Even without actively using Legilimency, I can almost always tell when someone is lying to me or even telling partial truths,” she said with a shrug. “Useful when students are trying to get away with some version of ‘a dragon torched my homework.’”

His eyes narrowed, and she felt an odd chill in his gaze. She shrugged again to shake off the odd feeling.

“Good day to you, then,” she said.

“Good day,” he replied, returning his attention to the Wolfsbane Potion.

She left the dungeons and headed for the kitchens, her mind already working over the question of what sort of meat a smooth snake might eat safely, or whether there might be a mouse or two around. What she was absolutely not doing was replaying the conversation she had just finished. Or if she were, it was only because Severus had looked at her very strangely, and if he were still nosing around after everything, well, that would be bad. Except for the part where she thought this secrecy bit was ridiculous. What had made him look at her like that? Why was she thinking about how he had looked at her at all?

Mice. Snake food. Kitchens.

She rolled her eyes, stopped in front of the painting that led to the kitchens, and tickled the pear.

---

A/N: Smooth snakes are smallish constrictors on the idea of the garter snakes one finds in the U.S. They actually belong in Southern England and are endangered, but stranger things have turned up at Hogwarts. If you’re curious about them, there’s more info at http://www.bbc.co.uk/nature/wildfacts/factfiles/280.shtml .

A/N 2: I originally thought the magical present-delivering Christmas trees were canon, but they’re not. If I’ve picked up the idea from some other fic, and you know which one, please let me know so I can give credit where it’s due.