To Know Who I Am
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Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female
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Adult ++
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Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
23
Views:
4,105
Reviews:
23
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter 5
Acknowledgements: A thousand thanks to my amazing beta 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 5
On Christmas morning, Celia found herself with a dilemma. She had several presents at the foot of her bed, but was she supposed to open them right away? The students would, obviously, but what was expected of the faculty? On the one hand, she might look greedy if she opened them before breakfast and the others had not. On the other, if she didn’t open them, she might look ungrateful. Details like this really ought to be included in the nonexistent new faculty orientation, immediately after “how to control the staircases.”
Curiosity won out, and she rationalized that it would be better to appear overeager than ungrateful as she brought the gifts into her sitting room. She started with the gifts from her colleagues. Hagrid had given her a fletching kit that promised to improve the range of her crossbow. Harry had clearly taken the hint he’d pried out of her and spread it around, as she had chocolates from him, Filius, Irma, Poppy, and Aurora. No Cockroach Clusters, she noted with relief, though he had included a Sugar Quill in his own gift.
Severus’ gift was a small book on experimental Potions theory. It was one she had often seen referenced in her review of the literature but had been unable to find. Had she mentioned that? Perhaps. Whether she had or not, however, it was very thoughtful. She wondered when he had placed this beneath the tree and whether it was supposed to be a peace offering.
The Headmistress’ gift made her smile: a calendar with photos of rare plants for each month. Wizarding photos, of course, that showed changes of light, dark, and wind periodically.
Finally, she opened the present from her own teacher, wondering briefly how it had arrived. It felt rather heavy to have been sent by owl. She tore the paper and lifted the note off the box.
Celia gasped as she lifted the cover. A Foe-Glass. Clearly her teacher was still concerned about what had happened. She had to confess, it would be interesting to see what it showed the next time she met with Severus. She winced when she thought about how much it must have cost. Yes, her teacher had married into money and didn’t tend to think much about it, but Celia felt her own Hannukah and Christmas gifts to the couple now looked horribly cheap by comparison.
Idiot. Like it’s a contest or something.
She looked over the sitting room for a good place to put it. There was one spot, visible from the kitchen as well as the bedroom, that looked as if it would be perfect. There was a small booklet underneath the Foe-Glass, explaining how to key it to oneself, how to mount it properly, and other useful information. She re-closed the box, resolving to read it thoroughly before doing anything with it. First, she’d better get to breakfast.
~ ~ ~
Breakfast on Christmas morning was pretty informal. The students drifted in and out, though there was always at least one faculty or staff member present. No one had spelled out a particular schedule for this to Celia, so she wasn’t sure exactly how this was supposed to work. When she arrived in the Great Hall, Harry was sipping his tea and reading a letter with a large snowy owl perched on his chair while a couple of students were nibbling at toast and talking animatedly about their gifts.
She took a seat and smiled as her cup filled with strong coffee, and eggs, sausage, and toast appeared on her plate. Her usual. The continual and casual use of magic here still often felt overwhelming to her, but she couldn’t deny that it was often very convenient.
“Merry Christmas,” she said to the table generally, then blushed as Harry and the students replied, “Happy Christmas.”
“Right, I’ll get the hang of this whole ‘separated by a common language’ thing yet,” she said in a tone she hoped was lighthearted.
“I don’t know,” Harry said. “I think a little variety spices things up a bit.”
Celia smiled and took a large sip of her coffee before beginning her breakfast. She waited until the students left before speaking again.
“Thanks for the sweets,” she said.
Harry smiled. “Thanks for the writing set.”
She laughed a little. “Sorry I couldn’t come up with something more original.”
“No, it’s perfect,” he replied. “Why do you think I suggested it?”
They fell into a companionable silence until another pair of students arrived.
“Well,” he said, “I’d best go check on the Gryffindors and see what trouble they’re up to. Your turn to mind the breakfast table, then.”
Her eyes widened. “So are there some sort of shifts nobody bothered to explain?”
“Not exactly,” he replied. “It’s your turn until the next faculty or staff member arrives.”
“Oh, okay then,” she said, wishing she had brought something to read. “See you at dinner. Happy Christmas.” This last was directed to the next cluster of arriving students.
“Stick to your usual,” Harry said with a smile. “You sound like you’re trying too hard.”
She rolled her eyes at him. Comparing gifts has to be way higher on their priority list than analyzing what I say. Then again, maybe that was his point.
Once she had finished her breakfast, she found herself sorely wishing she’d brought the booklet about her new Foe-Glass or maybe the potions theory book or really anything at all to read. Well, I could try Summoning one of them, but with my luck, it’d go straight through a window or something. Instead, she contented herself with sipping at her coffee and watching the students’ animated faces until Poppy Pomfrey arrived and took the next “shift.”
~ ~ ~
Christmas dinner was enjoyable enough, he supposed, once the students finished pulling crackers and devouring everything in sight and left to go play with their new toys or whatever it was they did. Not that he was overly fond of socializing at length with his colleagues, but after an hour or so of drinks and inane conversation, most of them had wandered off to visit whomever it was they all went to visit, leaving him in relative peace. With so few students about, he did not even particularly worry about patrolling, unless he wanted to. The ghosts could keep an eye on things and let him know if anything required his attention. It was something to look forward to, and for now, at least, the students had gone.
He barely registered most of the conversations around him, once he had got through the requisite “thank yous” and “you’re welcomes” related to everyone’s gifts. Mostly.
“Had I mentioned that I’d been having a hard time finding that book?” Celia asked.
“Yes,” he replied. “Once or twice.”
“Well, it will be very helpful, I’m sure. Thank you,” she said. She looked as though she wished to ask him something else but thankfully did not.
She did, however, excuse herself almost as soon as Filius had left, even though he knew she was not planning to leave the school. Reflexively, he almost considered investigating but then recalled Minerva’s edict. Fine. After the holiday was done, however, he could make it a point to speak with her, and perhaps they could resume what was apparently becoming a collaboration on her experimental potion. And he would have his eyes open.
~ ~ ~
Two mornings later, there was a knock at his office door just as he was preparing to leave for breakfast. He turned from the portrait that led directly to the hallway and went instead through the tapestry that led to his office. When he opened the door, he was startled to see young Mr. Lightfeather with Miss Hollingberry of Gryffindor in tow.
“What in Merlin’s name are you doing here, Mr. Lightfeather?” he asked. “Shouldn’t you both be on your way to the Great Hall?”
“Good morning, Professor Snape,” Lightfeather replied. “I just wanted to ask you … well, you said tomorrow we could do some more practicing with defensive spells after Christmas was done, and I wondered if Gwen could join us.”
Severus looked down at the tiny blonde. She was staring at her shoes and trembling slightly.
“And is there some reason why Miss Hollingberry cannot approach her own Head of House, who happens also to be this school’s Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor?”
The girl’s flush told him all he needed to know. How incredibly … silly.
“I see,” he continued before either could respond. “And why do you require this additional tuition, Miss Hollingberry?”
“I … I don’t really know, sir,” she stammered, a hint of tears in her voice, and turned to leave. “I’m sorry.”
Lightfeather held on to her hand, rendering her unable to actually leave. Severus found that both compelling and disturbing.
“Sir, only she’s so afraid all the time. She didn’t grow up with magic, you see, and we won’t even start learning any of the things you taught me until the second term in class. So I thought maybe she wouldn’t be so scared if she knew she could block things if anyone ever really did try to hurt her,” the boy explained. “She wouldn’t be any trouble, I promise, sir. You’re already teaching me, so I thought maybe you wouldn’t mind showing her, too?”
Severus leaned back against his desk and pinched the bridge of his nose. There truly ought to be some rule about springing bizarre ideas upon one’s Head of House before breakfast. He would have to propose one.
Afraid all the time?
“Miss Hollingberry, are you by any chance suffering from recurrent nightmares of some sort?” he asked.
“N-no, sir,” she replied. “I mean, I had a few when I first got here, but Madam Pomfrey gave me a potion that made them go away, and after a couple of weeks they stopped.”
So, whatever else may be going on here, she is not the mystery student. He pondered how to handle the situation and briefly longed for the days when he could have simply ordered them both to leave and cease wasting his time.
“Miss Hollingberry,” he said at last, “do you realize the trouble this might well bring you?”
“S-sir?” she asked.
“Your fellow Gryffindors would no doubt consider it a personal affront if they were to learn that you had passed over your own Head of House to request the assistance of the Head of Slytherin, not to mention what they would most likely think of your apparent friendship with Mr. Lightfeather.”
“I … I can be friends with who I want, sir,” the girl replied.
So, she does have a bit of a spine, then. That will bring her trouble if she does not have the skills to go with it. However …
“I did not say otherwise,” he replied. “I am merely pointing out that while inter-House rivalries are not remotely what they once were, you should be aware of the potential problems if you pursue this course of action.”
He watched with interest as the girl straightened her shoulders slightly and set her jaw.
“If they want to pick on me for being friends with Colin, they’ll do it anyway,” she said.
She has a point. Very well, then.
“Mr. Lightfeather, while prejudice against Muggle-borns is no longer sanctioned in Slytherin House, you may also find yourself at odds with your housemates regarding your friendship with Miss Hollingberry.”
“They don’t seem to care,” the boy said. “But if they do, well, I can be friends with who I want, too.”
With a nod, Professor Snape turned his attention back to the young witch.
“You will first approach your Head of House, Miss Hollingberry. As a matter of professional courtesy, the professors in this school do not teach one another’s subject matter without good reason.” He looked down his nose at Mr. Lightfeather. “In the case of a student from my own House, it was entirely at my discretion to choose to tutor Mr. Lightfeather, and I simply notified Professor Potter of this. Your situation is entirely different, and you will first ask for the assistance of your own Head of House. If he does not wish to tutor you himself or does not have the time to do so, you may, with his knowledge and permission, accompany Mr. Lightfeather to his tutoring sessions.”
“Thank you, Professor Sn …”
He held up his hand.
“If you do join us, I will not be increasing the length of these sessions, nor do I intend for Mr. Lightfeather to sit through a repetition of all he has already learned in the past two months. Therefore you will read the relevant sections of your Defense text and observe for the first two sessions before attempting to participate. Do I make myself clear?”
Both children bobbed their heads. Miss Hollingberry’s face was once again quite red. He raised his eyebrows and looked down at them.
“Yes, sir,” they said in unison.
He let out a resigned sigh.
“Get to breakfast, both of you,” he snapped. “And for heaven’s sake, don’t walk about holding hands like that. You are only eleven and twelve.”
After a flurry of “no, sir,” “yes, sir,” and “thank you, sir,” the pair finally left. Severus stared at the door for several moments, wondering just what exactly had possessed him to agree to this at all.
~ ~ ~
Later that afternoon, Celia was just finishing repotting the Venomous Tentacula when she heard the door at the other end of the greenhouse open. She glanced over her shoulder and was surprised to see Severus striding toward her.
“Good afternoon,” she said absently, turning her attention immediately back to the temperamental plant. She patted a bit more soil down firmly and set it to one side before turning to deal with her visitor.
“Good afternoon,” he replied.
“Was there something in particular you wanted?” she asked.
“Yes. Now that the holiday is past, I thought we could speak about …”
“Excuse me,” she cut in, turning toward the motion she had just seen on her workbench and grabbing for it. She turned back to him holding the little reddish-brown snake. Awkwardly, she fished for her wand and Summoned a covered basket. As she lowered the snake into it, she said, “For the last time, that is not a bunch of other snakes for you to play with. It is a plant that will gladly eat you for lunch. So until I can figure out how to stop you going after it, I guess you’ll have to stay in here.” She closed the lid and shook her head. “Foolish thing. I’m sorry, you were saying?”
Severus just looked at her oddly.
“What, you’ve never seen anybody talk to a snake before?” she asked.
“Not in English,” he replied dryly.
“Oh, right. Sorry.” Think before you speak much?
“You keep a snake?”
“Not exactly. It apparently decided to winter over in here, instead of going into hibernation when it should have. I only discovered it on Christmas Eve.”
“I see.”
“I used to keep snakes when I was younger. Corn snakes. I’m not sure how different this type is, but I’m pretty sure it would just die if I put it outside now. Considering it seems determined to commit suicide by plant, maybe that’d be worth the risk.” She shook her head. “Anyway, you were saying?”
“What? Oh, yes. I had planned to ask you at lunch when you would like to resume work on that potion of yours; however, you were not there.”
“Is it that late already?” She pulled off one of her protective gloves and looked at her watch. “I guess it is. Quite a bit past, in fact.” She thought for a moment. “If you have a bit of time now, why don’t you come in for a cup of tea, and we can talk about it then.”
“That would be acceptable,” he replied.
She pulled off the other glove and tossed them both on top of the basket, picked up her wand and tucked it away, then led the way through the doorway that led directly into her kitchen. Pulling her wand back out and giving it a few flicks, she set water to boil and Summoned the tea set onto the counter. Severus hung his cloak on the hook by the door as he entered. She waved him to his usual seat as she stepped into the sitting room to Floo the elves for sandwiches and cookies. They giggled at her request, as they always did, but she just couldn’t order biscuits without expecting a side of gravy to go with them. At least they had gotten over punishing themselves for it.
As she turned to go back into the kitchen, she glanced quickly at the Foe-Glass. Cloudy, but empty. Well, that was good to see. If Severus were her enemy in any sense, she should have seen his image there.
The water was just beginning to boil as she returned to the kitchen. She set the tea to steep, picked up the tea tray, and gestured for Severus to join her in the sitting room. Once they were seated, she said, “So, now we can dispense with the polite fiction that you agreed to help me out of sheer intellectual curiosity.”
“Indeed.”
“Not that I believed that,” she continued. “It was obvious that you were looking for information. A little too obvious, actually. But I can’t deny that you’ve given me some very useful ideas, starting with the one that launched this project in the first place.”
The tray she had ordered from the kitchens appeared on the coffee table. She offered it to him, and he selected a sandwich before saying, “I truly never intended that remark as advice.”
“I didn’t suppose you had. However, it was about the only thing that hadn’t been tried. The best I had managed prior was the Living Death variant, and all that accomplishes is the ability to become lucid in the dreams and choose to wake up from them. There’s therapeutic value in that, but it’s still a long way from a solution.”
“You ought to come up with a new name for it, you know. It’s sufficiently different that it is misleading to simply call it a variant.”
She shrugged. “It’s not a priority.” Deciding the tea had steeped long enough, she poured two cups and handed one to him. He accepted it and glanced up at the wall that held her Foe-Glass.
“That’s new,” he said archly.
She chuckled. “A Christmas gift from the person who discovered your research. Or, at least, discovered that someone had been poking around my essence somehow. Apparently she decided I could use the help.”
“I see.”
“Actually, the point is that there is nothing to see in it right now.”
“Are you sure you’ve charmed it properly?”
“Are you saying you ought to show up in it?”
“I am not saying anything. It was a simple question.”
“Yes, I am quite sure I have charmed it properly.”
“Hmm.”
Quiet fell as both nibbled on sandwiches and sipped tea, and when the conversation resumed, it focused on Potions theory and plans to test the latest batch of hybridized herbs when they matured in a few weeks.
~ ~ ~
Two days later
“Are you completely mad? If you add the bearweed/milfoil cross first, then all this … mint soup that follows will negate everything you were hoping to accomplish by hybridizing it in the first place.”
“It needs to simmer far longer than the mugwort and the spearmint, which are not ‘mint soup’ and will lose their protective and strengthening qualities if they go in first.”
“Not if you add diced silverweed.”
Silence.
“Oh.”
~ ~ ~
Five days later
“I don’t suppose you considered the possibility that the crushed aneton seeds will simply evaporate if you do not reduce the heat before adding them, while reducing the heat would cause the rest of your ingredients to congeal into a pile of useless sludge?”
“That would be the reason for the ‘insufferably complex stirring pattern’ at that stage. The Arithmantic pattern derivation came almost directly out of Potions Development Theory. You remember … the book you gave me?”
“Oh.”
“Speaking of books, didn’t you say you have the cover that belongs to your Advanced Potions book attached to the book this cover belongs to?”
“Yes.”
“And didn’t you mention something about bringing it today?”
“I may have done.”
“Is there some reason not to switch them back?”
“I suppose not.”
“So, are you going to remember to bring it next time?”
“Perhaps.”
“Now who’s hiding something?”
Silence.
“Fine. I will bring it next time.”
~ ~ ~
One week later
“You do realize there is absolutely nothing more we can do with any of this until the bloody plants mature, Severus.”
“Yes, but the Headmistress wishes to see us continuing to work on the project.”
“I’m fairly certain that the Headmistress is aware that plants can only be magically hurried to a certain point without losing the very properties for which they are grown.”
“When you’ve known her for more than thirty years, I will take your assessment of her patience seriously.”
“Oh. Well, then, there is always the second potion for actually working with the dreams.”
“And what is that one supposed to accomplish?”
“Ummm … let’s say you needed to be able to share the content of a prophetic dream with one or more people, directly, without the use of Legilimency or a Pensieve.”
“And why would those tools be unavailable?”
“Can you just trust me that there are situations in which they are?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Not so much.”
“And how is this potion supposed to accomplish this?”
“It has to give the ability to project images and sound. I’d say ‘like a hologram,’ but that probably wouldn’t mean much.”
“Wouldn’t a charm work better for this?”
“Probably, but that isn’t an option, either.”
“Why ever not?”
“I really can’t say.”
“I think I liked it better when you had to at least pretend to come up with an answer. At least that was amusing.”
“The students are coming back tonight. I’m sure they’ll be happy to amuse you.”
Silence.
“So what were you planning for the base of this potion?”
~ ~ ~
The return of the students and resumption of classes necessitated a return to only weekly meetings over tea, but then there wasn’t much more to discuss about the dream-blocking potion, and less to work with for the dream-projecting potion. Meanwhile, the much-rested students were providing additional challenges.
The term was barely into its second week when Celia, hurrying on her way to the weekly staff meeting, was startled to hear sounds of hexes being fired back toward the main entrance. She followed the noise and discovered the culprits to be Messrs. Jarvis and Lightfeather, surrounded by several other students. Lightfeather was deflecting Jarvis’ spells pretty well and not firing off any of his own, so for a moment, she considered letting them just have it out. Then she saw a Tripping Jinx ricochet onto one of the spectators.
“That’s enough,” she called out, storming forward through the watching students. “Break it up, now!”
Jarvis fired off one last spell, and time suddenly slowed to a crawl. Lightfeather turned toward the sound of her voice, shifting his wand arm and the angle of the shield spell he was using. Jarvis’ spell glanced off the canted shield and ricocheted almost straight up, where it collided with a second-floor staircase that was in the middle of shifting to a new position. The hideous sound of shattering stone assaulted Celia's ears and, as she watched in horror, the stone staircase swung down, dangled precariously, and plummeted toward the two boys.
“Move!” she yelled, then ran to the boys, who appeared frozen in fear, and pushed them out of the way. The staircase landed behind her with a crash that felt as though it shook the castle's very foundations. She turned and was shocked to see that it had landed on end, cracks running through it, and was beginning to topple lengthwise toward the students on the far side of the hall. Without time for thought, she ran underneath the leaning structure and caught it before it could complete its descent.
“Move!” she repeated, this time to the shocked children behind her. “I said move, now! Clear this hallway!”
A few students shook out of their stupor and began to leave, dragging their friends with them, just as several other faculty members arrived to investigate the noise. As quickly as she could, she walked her hands along the stairs and her feet backwards along the floor, easing the staircase down as she went, until finally she reached the end and lowered it to the floor with an almost gentle thud.
She turned to see who had arrived. Minerva, of course, and Severus, with Filius and Harry not far behind. Soon it seemed that the rest of the faculty was clustering behind them in an odd visual echo of the now-scattered students. Celia looked at Minerva and winced.
“Professor Reese, what on Earth happened?”
“Dueling students,” she replied simply. “Well, Jarvis firing off spells and Lightfeather just trying to block them. One ricocheted and hit this staircase,” she gestured to the fallen stone structure, “while it was moving, and it fell. It would have landed on the students who were watching the altercation.”
“I see.” The Headmistress considered for a moment. “Professor Snape, Mr. Filch, please see what you can do about this … rubble. Professor Reese, please join me in my office where we can discuss this further. The rest of you, please return your students to your classes and try to conduct them as usual. Whoever has Mr. Jarvis and Mr. Lightfeather this period, please send them to me.”
The crowd dispersed as everyone followed her instructions. Severus gave Celia a long, measuring look before turning to Filch and joining him in assessing the damage.
~ ~ ~
Once they were seated in the Headmistress’ office, Celia allowed herself to realize how sore she was. She rubbed at her arms absently.
“Are you hurt?” McGonagall asked.
“Not really,” she replied. “Just a few strained muscles. I’ll be fine.”
“When you are finished here, you should see Poppy.”
“That’s really not necessary.”
“Please do so anyway.”
Celia nodded and waited anxiously to hear what would come next.
“First, thank you,” Minerva said. “I gather we would have been sending Poppy several badly hurt children, or worse, if you had not acted.”
Celia nodded again.
“But now I must ask: why did you not use magic?”
Celia looked down at her lap and then back to her employer.
“It wasn’t my first instinct,” she admitted. "It is so deeply ingrained in me to use magic only when there is no other way, especially when there are others around. It might actually have been better if they’d hit a different staircase, higher up. If it had been going to explode into shrapnel, magic would have been my only recourse. As it was, once it hit and started to lean, on some level I knew I could ease it down physically, so that was my gut reaction."
Minerva sighed. “I don’t know how we can explain this away,” she said. “Quite a few students and most of the faculty saw you holding a staircase, which, unless I miss my guess, would have been difficult for Hagrid to support.”
“That’s true.” Celia thought for a moment. “I’ve had similar things happen around Muggles. They’re actually easier; they’ll convince themselves of almost anything to avoid seeing something that doesn’t fit their expectations.”
“Wizarding children, on the other hand, are far less likely to do so, to say nothing of the faculty and staff.”
“Well, if we’re still going to keep this all secret, then I’d say something true but misleading is probably the way to go …”
Minerva narrowed her eyes.
“Not the truth about me, or only the least significant bit, just things that are true and lead to reasonable conclusions. First of all, the whole truth about the hexing that caused the accident. Maybe that will discourage the next foolish students who decide to duel in the halls.”
Minerva nodded, though her expression was dubious.
I guess that might be kind of asking a lot.
“Then, as far as my response, we can use two facts. First, until coming to Hogwarts, I’ve been accustomed to being almost continually among Muggles, and so my first instinct was not, unfortunately, to reach for my wand. Second, there are many documented cases of women performing astonishing feats of strength to protect or rescue children, usually but not always their own. It’s not a huge stretch that a childless teacher might manage the same sort of maternal protectiveness toward her students. And it is true, even though it has nothing to do with what happened today. But, letting it get spread around will lead to a logical connection. Some of the Muggle-born students may have heard and might share similar stories about mothers lifting automobiles off their kids and whatnot, which would help.”
“That may work for the students,” the Headmistress pointed out, “but what about your colleagues?”
“Well, Severus already knows there’s something odd about me, so this is just one more bit of proof. You’d be a better judge than me whether the rest will buy this diversion or will at least pretend to, knowing that you are obviously okay with it.”
Minerva became thoughtful. “I will take your recommendation under advisement and let you know what I decide. For now, though, I want you to see Poppy. Surely women who lift automobiles off of children suffer from bruises and other injuries after the fact.”
Celia looked down at her unblemished hands and arms. She concentrated briefly. Her hands and wrists became mottled in bruises, and her robes developed a ragged tear along one shoulder. “Will that do?”
“You might add one along your cheek,” advised the former Transfiguration professor. Celia complied, adding a scrape along the cheek adjacent to the tear in her robes. “You can remove them once you reach the hospital wing. Poppy would be able to tell they are not real.”
Celia rose to leave.
“Please send up Messrs. Jarvis and Lightfeather,” said the Headmistress, as Celia turned to leave.
“Minerva, I know I only arrived at the end,” she said, “but I would like to reiterate that I only saw Mr. Jarvis casting spells at Mr. Lightfeather, and Mr. Lightfeather shielding himself.”
“I know. However, I shall want to hear all of it from both of them before rendering any decisions.”
Celia nodded and exited. As she made her way to the moving staircase, she began to hold one of her wrists as though it pained her and tested to see whether she could feign a convincing limp. When she reached the gargoyle at the bottom of the stairs, the two boys were standing there, waiting anxiously. They looked at her with expressions that were a mix of awe and fear, and in the case of Lightfeather, guilt. She glared murderously at Jarvis but took pity on Lightfeather.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “Madam Pomfrey will have me fixed up in no time. However, you two had best get up to Professor McGonagall. She doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
The boys stepped onto the staircase, which began to rotate as soon as they were on it, cycling them up to the office. Celia started off down the hall toward the hospital wing by a route that used only staircases that remained firmly in place along the castle walls, limping slightly and cradling her right hand. She encountered only a few students before she reached the hospital wing, and had no doubt they would add her “injuries” to the tales that were no doubt already circulating and growing.
~ ~ ~
The following afternoon, Severus kept his appointment with Celia for their weekly tea and collaboration. He was, of course, primarily interested in the previous day’s events.
“You seem to be healing quite remarkably,” he said in a casual tone.
“Poppy is very good at what she does,” she countered.
“I find it truly amazing that she managed to reattach your arm, mend your skull, and have you back in perfect condition in time for dinner last night.”
“Is that what they’re saying?” Celia appeared amused. “I’m surprised it hasn’t escalated to a near-death experience yet. Oh well, give it another day or two.”
“I have also heard more tales about the amazing feats of women lifting large objects in the defense of children than I would ever have dreamed possible.”
“Oh? Well, that’s good. They seem to have the sense not to talk about it in my classes, so I wasn’t sure. I’m glad to hear that the supporting evidence is flowing as freely as the gossip.”
He raised an eyebrow at that. He had not expected her to admit to the deception quite so blatantly.
“What?” she protested. “I didn’t expect you to buy it in the first place. I don’t really expect that most of the faculty and staff really do, but obviously you wouldn’t.”
He nodded, conceding the point. He had been aware she was uncommonly strong but had still been taken aback by what she had done. He and Minerva had arrived just as she yelled for the gathered students to leave and he thought his heart might have actually skipped several beats at the sight of this young woman being crushed under the stone staircase before his mind finally processed what he was actually seeing.
“I think it does strain credulity to compare moving a one-ton object off the ground to catching a one-ton object as it falls,” he pointed out.
She rolled her eyes at him. “I didn’t catch it as it fell,” she said. “One end had already connected with the floor before I looked back and saw how it was going to land. If most of the force hadn’t already been absorbed by that first impact, I’m sure I would have been squashed like a bug.”
“Pleasant image,” he said, suppressing a most uncharacteristic shudder.
“Not particularly,” she replied. “So, are we going to rehash this all afternoon, or shall we talk potions?”
He felt oddly relieved by the change in subject. While the incident had made him more curious than ever about just what, exactly, this woman was, something about it all was disturbing him on a level he did not care to experience much less examine.
He set with relish to the much more familiar and less fraught task of demolishing her latest propositions. A potion to cause a person to be able to project visual images into the air for others to see? Ridiculous.
It would be useful if she continued to come up with these absurd notions, however, as it would be several more weeks before the hybrid plants would be ready for the first trials in the far more realistic, but still highly unlikely, potion to suppress prescient dreams. If Minerva did not continue to receive updates on their progress, and he had no doubt she was asking them both separately, she would surely start hounding him to speed the process, which was already progressing at the fastest possible rate.
If it were possible to hasten things, I certainly would. I cannot wait until that first potion either fails, as it almost certainly must, or even succeeds. These meetings have become a waste of time, for all that they keep Minerva pacified. Add in the time I now spend tutoring Lightfeather and his little friend – also Celia’s fault, by Merlin’s beard! – and it is no wonder I have barely finished reading half of last month’s International Journal of Potions. The sooner this foolishness is finished, the sooner my life can return to some semblance of normalcy.
He took a sip of his tea and wondered briefly if the house-elves might start serving some of these blends she used. They did tend to grow on one, and he rather thought he would miss them once these meetings finally became unnecessary.
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 5
On Christmas morning, Celia found herself with a dilemma. She had several presents at the foot of her bed, but was she supposed to open them right away? The students would, obviously, but what was expected of the faculty? On the one hand, she might look greedy if she opened them before breakfast and the others had not. On the other, if she didn’t open them, she might look ungrateful. Details like this really ought to be included in the nonexistent new faculty orientation, immediately after “how to control the staircases.”
Curiosity won out, and she rationalized that it would be better to appear overeager than ungrateful as she brought the gifts into her sitting room. She started with the gifts from her colleagues. Hagrid had given her a fletching kit that promised to improve the range of her crossbow. Harry had clearly taken the hint he’d pried out of her and spread it around, as she had chocolates from him, Filius, Irma, Poppy, and Aurora. No Cockroach Clusters, she noted with relief, though he had included a Sugar Quill in his own gift.
Severus’ gift was a small book on experimental Potions theory. It was one she had often seen referenced in her review of the literature but had been unable to find. Had she mentioned that? Perhaps. Whether she had or not, however, it was very thoughtful. She wondered when he had placed this beneath the tree and whether it was supposed to be a peace offering.
The Headmistress’ gift made her smile: a calendar with photos of rare plants for each month. Wizarding photos, of course, that showed changes of light, dark, and wind periodically.
Finally, she opened the present from her own teacher, wondering briefly how it had arrived. It felt rather heavy to have been sent by owl. She tore the paper and lifted the note off the box.
Thanks for the Sneakoscope Dreidel! That is such a cute idea! I hope this will come in equally handy.
Celia gasped as she lifted the cover. A Foe-Glass. Clearly her teacher was still concerned about what had happened. She had to confess, it would be interesting to see what it showed the next time she met with Severus. She winced when she thought about how much it must have cost. Yes, her teacher had married into money and didn’t tend to think much about it, but Celia felt her own Hannukah and Christmas gifts to the couple now looked horribly cheap by comparison.
Idiot. Like it’s a contest or something.
She looked over the sitting room for a good place to put it. There was one spot, visible from the kitchen as well as the bedroom, that looked as if it would be perfect. There was a small booklet underneath the Foe-Glass, explaining how to key it to oneself, how to mount it properly, and other useful information. She re-closed the box, resolving to read it thoroughly before doing anything with it. First, she’d better get to breakfast.
Breakfast on Christmas morning was pretty informal. The students drifted in and out, though there was always at least one faculty or staff member present. No one had spelled out a particular schedule for this to Celia, so she wasn’t sure exactly how this was supposed to work. When she arrived in the Great Hall, Harry was sipping his tea and reading a letter with a large snowy owl perched on his chair while a couple of students were nibbling at toast and talking animatedly about their gifts.
She took a seat and smiled as her cup filled with strong coffee, and eggs, sausage, and toast appeared on her plate. Her usual. The continual and casual use of magic here still often felt overwhelming to her, but she couldn’t deny that it was often very convenient.
“Merry Christmas,” she said to the table generally, then blushed as Harry and the students replied, “Happy Christmas.”
“Right, I’ll get the hang of this whole ‘separated by a common language’ thing yet,” she said in a tone she hoped was lighthearted.
“I don’t know,” Harry said. “I think a little variety spices things up a bit.”
Celia smiled and took a large sip of her coffee before beginning her breakfast. She waited until the students left before speaking again.
“Thanks for the sweets,” she said.
Harry smiled. “Thanks for the writing set.”
She laughed a little. “Sorry I couldn’t come up with something more original.”
“No, it’s perfect,” he replied. “Why do you think I suggested it?”
They fell into a companionable silence until another pair of students arrived.
“Well,” he said, “I’d best go check on the Gryffindors and see what trouble they’re up to. Your turn to mind the breakfast table, then.”
Her eyes widened. “So are there some sort of shifts nobody bothered to explain?”
“Not exactly,” he replied. “It’s your turn until the next faculty or staff member arrives.”
“Oh, okay then,” she said, wishing she had brought something to read. “See you at dinner. Happy Christmas.” This last was directed to the next cluster of arriving students.
“Stick to your usual,” Harry said with a smile. “You sound like you’re trying too hard.”
She rolled her eyes at him. Comparing gifts has to be way higher on their priority list than analyzing what I say. Then again, maybe that was his point.
Once she had finished her breakfast, she found herself sorely wishing she’d brought the booklet about her new Foe-Glass or maybe the potions theory book or really anything at all to read. Well, I could try Summoning one of them, but with my luck, it’d go straight through a window or something. Instead, she contented herself with sipping at her coffee and watching the students’ animated faces until Poppy Pomfrey arrived and took the next “shift.”
Christmas dinner was enjoyable enough, he supposed, once the students finished pulling crackers and devouring everything in sight and left to go play with their new toys or whatever it was they did. Not that he was overly fond of socializing at length with his colleagues, but after an hour or so of drinks and inane conversation, most of them had wandered off to visit whomever it was they all went to visit, leaving him in relative peace. With so few students about, he did not even particularly worry about patrolling, unless he wanted to. The ghosts could keep an eye on things and let him know if anything required his attention. It was something to look forward to, and for now, at least, the students had gone.
He barely registered most of the conversations around him, once he had got through the requisite “thank yous” and “you’re welcomes” related to everyone’s gifts. Mostly.
“Had I mentioned that I’d been having a hard time finding that book?” Celia asked.
“Yes,” he replied. “Once or twice.”
“Well, it will be very helpful, I’m sure. Thank you,” she said. She looked as though she wished to ask him something else but thankfully did not.
She did, however, excuse herself almost as soon as Filius had left, even though he knew she was not planning to leave the school. Reflexively, he almost considered investigating but then recalled Minerva’s edict. Fine. After the holiday was done, however, he could make it a point to speak with her, and perhaps they could resume what was apparently becoming a collaboration on her experimental potion. And he would have his eyes open.
Two mornings later, there was a knock at his office door just as he was preparing to leave for breakfast. He turned from the portrait that led directly to the hallway and went instead through the tapestry that led to his office. When he opened the door, he was startled to see young Mr. Lightfeather with Miss Hollingberry of Gryffindor in tow.
“What in Merlin’s name are you doing here, Mr. Lightfeather?” he asked. “Shouldn’t you both be on your way to the Great Hall?”
“Good morning, Professor Snape,” Lightfeather replied. “I just wanted to ask you … well, you said tomorrow we could do some more practicing with defensive spells after Christmas was done, and I wondered if Gwen could join us.”
Severus looked down at the tiny blonde. She was staring at her shoes and trembling slightly.
“And is there some reason why Miss Hollingberry cannot approach her own Head of House, who happens also to be this school’s Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor?”
The girl’s flush told him all he needed to know. How incredibly … silly.
“I see,” he continued before either could respond. “And why do you require this additional tuition, Miss Hollingberry?”
“I … I don’t really know, sir,” she stammered, a hint of tears in her voice, and turned to leave. “I’m sorry.”
Lightfeather held on to her hand, rendering her unable to actually leave. Severus found that both compelling and disturbing.
“Sir, only she’s so afraid all the time. She didn’t grow up with magic, you see, and we won’t even start learning any of the things you taught me until the second term in class. So I thought maybe she wouldn’t be so scared if she knew she could block things if anyone ever really did try to hurt her,” the boy explained. “She wouldn’t be any trouble, I promise, sir. You’re already teaching me, so I thought maybe you wouldn’t mind showing her, too?”
Severus leaned back against his desk and pinched the bridge of his nose. There truly ought to be some rule about springing bizarre ideas upon one’s Head of House before breakfast. He would have to propose one.
Afraid all the time?
“Miss Hollingberry, are you by any chance suffering from recurrent nightmares of some sort?” he asked.
“N-no, sir,” she replied. “I mean, I had a few when I first got here, but Madam Pomfrey gave me a potion that made them go away, and after a couple of weeks they stopped.”
So, whatever else may be going on here, she is not the mystery student. He pondered how to handle the situation and briefly longed for the days when he could have simply ordered them both to leave and cease wasting his time.
“Miss Hollingberry,” he said at last, “do you realize the trouble this might well bring you?”
“S-sir?” she asked.
“Your fellow Gryffindors would no doubt consider it a personal affront if they were to learn that you had passed over your own Head of House to request the assistance of the Head of Slytherin, not to mention what they would most likely think of your apparent friendship with Mr. Lightfeather.”
“I … I can be friends with who I want, sir,” the girl replied.
So, she does have a bit of a spine, then. That will bring her trouble if she does not have the skills to go with it. However …
“I did not say otherwise,” he replied. “I am merely pointing out that while inter-House rivalries are not remotely what they once were, you should be aware of the potential problems if you pursue this course of action.”
He watched with interest as the girl straightened her shoulders slightly and set her jaw.
“If they want to pick on me for being friends with Colin, they’ll do it anyway,” she said.
She has a point. Very well, then.
“Mr. Lightfeather, while prejudice against Muggle-borns is no longer sanctioned in Slytherin House, you may also find yourself at odds with your housemates regarding your friendship with Miss Hollingberry.”
“They don’t seem to care,” the boy said. “But if they do, well, I can be friends with who I want, too.”
With a nod, Professor Snape turned his attention back to the young witch.
“You will first approach your Head of House, Miss Hollingberry. As a matter of professional courtesy, the professors in this school do not teach one another’s subject matter without good reason.” He looked down his nose at Mr. Lightfeather. “In the case of a student from my own House, it was entirely at my discretion to choose to tutor Mr. Lightfeather, and I simply notified Professor Potter of this. Your situation is entirely different, and you will first ask for the assistance of your own Head of House. If he does not wish to tutor you himself or does not have the time to do so, you may, with his knowledge and permission, accompany Mr. Lightfeather to his tutoring sessions.”
“Thank you, Professor Sn …”
He held up his hand.
“If you do join us, I will not be increasing the length of these sessions, nor do I intend for Mr. Lightfeather to sit through a repetition of all he has already learned in the past two months. Therefore you will read the relevant sections of your Defense text and observe for the first two sessions before attempting to participate. Do I make myself clear?”
Both children bobbed their heads. Miss Hollingberry’s face was once again quite red. He raised his eyebrows and looked down at them.
“Yes, sir,” they said in unison.
He let out a resigned sigh.
“Get to breakfast, both of you,” he snapped. “And for heaven’s sake, don’t walk about holding hands like that. You are only eleven and twelve.”
After a flurry of “no, sir,” “yes, sir,” and “thank you, sir,” the pair finally left. Severus stared at the door for several moments, wondering just what exactly had possessed him to agree to this at all.
Later that afternoon, Celia was just finishing repotting the Venomous Tentacula when she heard the door at the other end of the greenhouse open. She glanced over her shoulder and was surprised to see Severus striding toward her.
“Good afternoon,” she said absently, turning her attention immediately back to the temperamental plant. She patted a bit more soil down firmly and set it to one side before turning to deal with her visitor.
“Good afternoon,” he replied.
“Was there something in particular you wanted?” she asked.
“Yes. Now that the holiday is past, I thought we could speak about …”
“Excuse me,” she cut in, turning toward the motion she had just seen on her workbench and grabbing for it. She turned back to him holding the little reddish-brown snake. Awkwardly, she fished for her wand and Summoned a covered basket. As she lowered the snake into it, she said, “For the last time, that is not a bunch of other snakes for you to play with. It is a plant that will gladly eat you for lunch. So until I can figure out how to stop you going after it, I guess you’ll have to stay in here.” She closed the lid and shook her head. “Foolish thing. I’m sorry, you were saying?”
Severus just looked at her oddly.
“What, you’ve never seen anybody talk to a snake before?” she asked.
“Not in English,” he replied dryly.
“Oh, right. Sorry.” Think before you speak much?
“You keep a snake?”
“Not exactly. It apparently decided to winter over in here, instead of going into hibernation when it should have. I only discovered it on Christmas Eve.”
“I see.”
“I used to keep snakes when I was younger. Corn snakes. I’m not sure how different this type is, but I’m pretty sure it would just die if I put it outside now. Considering it seems determined to commit suicide by plant, maybe that’d be worth the risk.” She shook her head. “Anyway, you were saying?”
“What? Oh, yes. I had planned to ask you at lunch when you would like to resume work on that potion of yours; however, you were not there.”
“Is it that late already?” She pulled off one of her protective gloves and looked at her watch. “I guess it is. Quite a bit past, in fact.” She thought for a moment. “If you have a bit of time now, why don’t you come in for a cup of tea, and we can talk about it then.”
“That would be acceptable,” he replied.
She pulled off the other glove and tossed them both on top of the basket, picked up her wand and tucked it away, then led the way through the doorway that led directly into her kitchen. Pulling her wand back out and giving it a few flicks, she set water to boil and Summoned the tea set onto the counter. Severus hung his cloak on the hook by the door as he entered. She waved him to his usual seat as she stepped into the sitting room to Floo the elves for sandwiches and cookies. They giggled at her request, as they always did, but she just couldn’t order biscuits without expecting a side of gravy to go with them. At least they had gotten over punishing themselves for it.
As she turned to go back into the kitchen, she glanced quickly at the Foe-Glass. Cloudy, but empty. Well, that was good to see. If Severus were her enemy in any sense, she should have seen his image there.
The water was just beginning to boil as she returned to the kitchen. She set the tea to steep, picked up the tea tray, and gestured for Severus to join her in the sitting room. Once they were seated, she said, “So, now we can dispense with the polite fiction that you agreed to help me out of sheer intellectual curiosity.”
“Indeed.”
“Not that I believed that,” she continued. “It was obvious that you were looking for information. A little too obvious, actually. But I can’t deny that you’ve given me some very useful ideas, starting with the one that launched this project in the first place.”
The tray she had ordered from the kitchens appeared on the coffee table. She offered it to him, and he selected a sandwich before saying, “I truly never intended that remark as advice.”
“I didn’t suppose you had. However, it was about the only thing that hadn’t been tried. The best I had managed prior was the Living Death variant, and all that accomplishes is the ability to become lucid in the dreams and choose to wake up from them. There’s therapeutic value in that, but it’s still a long way from a solution.”
“You ought to come up with a new name for it, you know. It’s sufficiently different that it is misleading to simply call it a variant.”
She shrugged. “It’s not a priority.” Deciding the tea had steeped long enough, she poured two cups and handed one to him. He accepted it and glanced up at the wall that held her Foe-Glass.
“That’s new,” he said archly.
She chuckled. “A Christmas gift from the person who discovered your research. Or, at least, discovered that someone had been poking around my essence somehow. Apparently she decided I could use the help.”
“I see.”
“Actually, the point is that there is nothing to see in it right now.”
“Are you sure you’ve charmed it properly?”
“Are you saying you ought to show up in it?”
“I am not saying anything. It was a simple question.”
“Yes, I am quite sure I have charmed it properly.”
“Hmm.”
Quiet fell as both nibbled on sandwiches and sipped tea, and when the conversation resumed, it focused on Potions theory and plans to test the latest batch of hybridized herbs when they matured in a few weeks.
Two days later
“Are you completely mad? If you add the bearweed/milfoil cross first, then all this … mint soup that follows will negate everything you were hoping to accomplish by hybridizing it in the first place.”
“It needs to simmer far longer than the mugwort and the spearmint, which are not ‘mint soup’ and will lose their protective and strengthening qualities if they go in first.”
“Not if you add diced silverweed.”
Silence.
“Oh.”
Five days later
“I don’t suppose you considered the possibility that the crushed aneton seeds will simply evaporate if you do not reduce the heat before adding them, while reducing the heat would cause the rest of your ingredients to congeal into a pile of useless sludge?”
“That would be the reason for the ‘insufferably complex stirring pattern’ at that stage. The Arithmantic pattern derivation came almost directly out of Potions Development Theory. You remember … the book you gave me?”
“Oh.”
“Speaking of books, didn’t you say you have the cover that belongs to your Advanced Potions book attached to the book this cover belongs to?”
“Yes.”
“And didn’t you mention something about bringing it today?”
“I may have done.”
“Is there some reason not to switch them back?”
“I suppose not.”
“So, are you going to remember to bring it next time?”
“Perhaps.”
“Now who’s hiding something?”
Silence.
“Fine. I will bring it next time.”
One week later
“You do realize there is absolutely nothing more we can do with any of this until the bloody plants mature, Severus.”
“Yes, but the Headmistress wishes to see us continuing to work on the project.”
“I’m fairly certain that the Headmistress is aware that plants can only be magically hurried to a certain point without losing the very properties for which they are grown.”
“When you’ve known her for more than thirty years, I will take your assessment of her patience seriously.”
“Oh. Well, then, there is always the second potion for actually working with the dreams.”
“And what is that one supposed to accomplish?”
“Ummm … let’s say you needed to be able to share the content of a prophetic dream with one or more people, directly, without the use of Legilimency or a Pensieve.”
“And why would those tools be unavailable?”
“Can you just trust me that there are situations in which they are?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Not so much.”
“And how is this potion supposed to accomplish this?”
“It has to give the ability to project images and sound. I’d say ‘like a hologram,’ but that probably wouldn’t mean much.”
“Wouldn’t a charm work better for this?”
“Probably, but that isn’t an option, either.”
“Why ever not?”
“I really can’t say.”
“I think I liked it better when you had to at least pretend to come up with an answer. At least that was amusing.”
“The students are coming back tonight. I’m sure they’ll be happy to amuse you.”
Silence.
“So what were you planning for the base of this potion?”
The return of the students and resumption of classes necessitated a return to only weekly meetings over tea, but then there wasn’t much more to discuss about the dream-blocking potion, and less to work with for the dream-projecting potion. Meanwhile, the much-rested students were providing additional challenges.
The term was barely into its second week when Celia, hurrying on her way to the weekly staff meeting, was startled to hear sounds of hexes being fired back toward the main entrance. She followed the noise and discovered the culprits to be Messrs. Jarvis and Lightfeather, surrounded by several other students. Lightfeather was deflecting Jarvis’ spells pretty well and not firing off any of his own, so for a moment, she considered letting them just have it out. Then she saw a Tripping Jinx ricochet onto one of the spectators.
“That’s enough,” she called out, storming forward through the watching students. “Break it up, now!”
Jarvis fired off one last spell, and time suddenly slowed to a crawl. Lightfeather turned toward the sound of her voice, shifting his wand arm and the angle of the shield spell he was using. Jarvis’ spell glanced off the canted shield and ricocheted almost straight up, where it collided with a second-floor staircase that was in the middle of shifting to a new position. The hideous sound of shattering stone assaulted Celia's ears and, as she watched in horror, the stone staircase swung down, dangled precariously, and plummeted toward the two boys.
“Move!” she yelled, then ran to the boys, who appeared frozen in fear, and pushed them out of the way. The staircase landed behind her with a crash that felt as though it shook the castle's very foundations. She turned and was shocked to see that it had landed on end, cracks running through it, and was beginning to topple lengthwise toward the students on the far side of the hall. Without time for thought, she ran underneath the leaning structure and caught it before it could complete its descent.
“Move!” she repeated, this time to the shocked children behind her. “I said move, now! Clear this hallway!”
A few students shook out of their stupor and began to leave, dragging their friends with them, just as several other faculty members arrived to investigate the noise. As quickly as she could, she walked her hands along the stairs and her feet backwards along the floor, easing the staircase down as she went, until finally she reached the end and lowered it to the floor with an almost gentle thud.
She turned to see who had arrived. Minerva, of course, and Severus, with Filius and Harry not far behind. Soon it seemed that the rest of the faculty was clustering behind them in an odd visual echo of the now-scattered students. Celia looked at Minerva and winced.
“Professor Reese, what on Earth happened?”
“Dueling students,” she replied simply. “Well, Jarvis firing off spells and Lightfeather just trying to block them. One ricocheted and hit this staircase,” she gestured to the fallen stone structure, “while it was moving, and it fell. It would have landed on the students who were watching the altercation.”
“I see.” The Headmistress considered for a moment. “Professor Snape, Mr. Filch, please see what you can do about this … rubble. Professor Reese, please join me in my office where we can discuss this further. The rest of you, please return your students to your classes and try to conduct them as usual. Whoever has Mr. Jarvis and Mr. Lightfeather this period, please send them to me.”
The crowd dispersed as everyone followed her instructions. Severus gave Celia a long, measuring look before turning to Filch and joining him in assessing the damage.
Once they were seated in the Headmistress’ office, Celia allowed herself to realize how sore she was. She rubbed at her arms absently.
“Are you hurt?” McGonagall asked.
“Not really,” she replied. “Just a few strained muscles. I’ll be fine.”
“When you are finished here, you should see Poppy.”
“That’s really not necessary.”
“Please do so anyway.”
Celia nodded and waited anxiously to hear what would come next.
“First, thank you,” Minerva said. “I gather we would have been sending Poppy several badly hurt children, or worse, if you had not acted.”
Celia nodded again.
“But now I must ask: why did you not use magic?”
Celia looked down at her lap and then back to her employer.
“It wasn’t my first instinct,” she admitted. "It is so deeply ingrained in me to use magic only when there is no other way, especially when there are others around. It might actually have been better if they’d hit a different staircase, higher up. If it had been going to explode into shrapnel, magic would have been my only recourse. As it was, once it hit and started to lean, on some level I knew I could ease it down physically, so that was my gut reaction."
Minerva sighed. “I don’t know how we can explain this away,” she said. “Quite a few students and most of the faculty saw you holding a staircase, which, unless I miss my guess, would have been difficult for Hagrid to support.”
“That’s true.” Celia thought for a moment. “I’ve had similar things happen around Muggles. They’re actually easier; they’ll convince themselves of almost anything to avoid seeing something that doesn’t fit their expectations.”
“Wizarding children, on the other hand, are far less likely to do so, to say nothing of the faculty and staff.”
“Well, if we’re still going to keep this all secret, then I’d say something true but misleading is probably the way to go …”
Minerva narrowed her eyes.
“Not the truth about me, or only the least significant bit, just things that are true and lead to reasonable conclusions. First of all, the whole truth about the hexing that caused the accident. Maybe that will discourage the next foolish students who decide to duel in the halls.”
Minerva nodded, though her expression was dubious.
I guess that might be kind of asking a lot.
“Then, as far as my response, we can use two facts. First, until coming to Hogwarts, I’ve been accustomed to being almost continually among Muggles, and so my first instinct was not, unfortunately, to reach for my wand. Second, there are many documented cases of women performing astonishing feats of strength to protect or rescue children, usually but not always their own. It’s not a huge stretch that a childless teacher might manage the same sort of maternal protectiveness toward her students. And it is true, even though it has nothing to do with what happened today. But, letting it get spread around will lead to a logical connection. Some of the Muggle-born students may have heard and might share similar stories about mothers lifting automobiles off their kids and whatnot, which would help.”
“That may work for the students,” the Headmistress pointed out, “but what about your colleagues?”
“Well, Severus already knows there’s something odd about me, so this is just one more bit of proof. You’d be a better judge than me whether the rest will buy this diversion or will at least pretend to, knowing that you are obviously okay with it.”
Minerva became thoughtful. “I will take your recommendation under advisement and let you know what I decide. For now, though, I want you to see Poppy. Surely women who lift automobiles off of children suffer from bruises and other injuries after the fact.”
Celia looked down at her unblemished hands and arms. She concentrated briefly. Her hands and wrists became mottled in bruises, and her robes developed a ragged tear along one shoulder. “Will that do?”
“You might add one along your cheek,” advised the former Transfiguration professor. Celia complied, adding a scrape along the cheek adjacent to the tear in her robes. “You can remove them once you reach the hospital wing. Poppy would be able to tell they are not real.”
Celia rose to leave.
“Please send up Messrs. Jarvis and Lightfeather,” said the Headmistress, as Celia turned to leave.
“Minerva, I know I only arrived at the end,” she said, “but I would like to reiterate that I only saw Mr. Jarvis casting spells at Mr. Lightfeather, and Mr. Lightfeather shielding himself.”
“I know. However, I shall want to hear all of it from both of them before rendering any decisions.”
Celia nodded and exited. As she made her way to the moving staircase, she began to hold one of her wrists as though it pained her and tested to see whether she could feign a convincing limp. When she reached the gargoyle at the bottom of the stairs, the two boys were standing there, waiting anxiously. They looked at her with expressions that were a mix of awe and fear, and in the case of Lightfeather, guilt. She glared murderously at Jarvis but took pity on Lightfeather.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “Madam Pomfrey will have me fixed up in no time. However, you two had best get up to Professor McGonagall. She doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
The boys stepped onto the staircase, which began to rotate as soon as they were on it, cycling them up to the office. Celia started off down the hall toward the hospital wing by a route that used only staircases that remained firmly in place along the castle walls, limping slightly and cradling her right hand. She encountered only a few students before she reached the hospital wing, and had no doubt they would add her “injuries” to the tales that were no doubt already circulating and growing.
The following afternoon, Severus kept his appointment with Celia for their weekly tea and collaboration. He was, of course, primarily interested in the previous day’s events.
“You seem to be healing quite remarkably,” he said in a casual tone.
“Poppy is very good at what she does,” she countered.
“I find it truly amazing that she managed to reattach your arm, mend your skull, and have you back in perfect condition in time for dinner last night.”
“Is that what they’re saying?” Celia appeared amused. “I’m surprised it hasn’t escalated to a near-death experience yet. Oh well, give it another day or two.”
“I have also heard more tales about the amazing feats of women lifting large objects in the defense of children than I would ever have dreamed possible.”
“Oh? Well, that’s good. They seem to have the sense not to talk about it in my classes, so I wasn’t sure. I’m glad to hear that the supporting evidence is flowing as freely as the gossip.”
He raised an eyebrow at that. He had not expected her to admit to the deception quite so blatantly.
“What?” she protested. “I didn’t expect you to buy it in the first place. I don’t really expect that most of the faculty and staff really do, but obviously you wouldn’t.”
He nodded, conceding the point. He had been aware she was uncommonly strong but had still been taken aback by what she had done. He and Minerva had arrived just as she yelled for the gathered students to leave and he thought his heart might have actually skipped several beats at the sight of this young woman being crushed under the stone staircase before his mind finally processed what he was actually seeing.
“I think it does strain credulity to compare moving a one-ton object off the ground to catching a one-ton object as it falls,” he pointed out.
She rolled her eyes at him. “I didn’t catch it as it fell,” she said. “One end had already connected with the floor before I looked back and saw how it was going to land. If most of the force hadn’t already been absorbed by that first impact, I’m sure I would have been squashed like a bug.”
“Pleasant image,” he said, suppressing a most uncharacteristic shudder.
“Not particularly,” she replied. “So, are we going to rehash this all afternoon, or shall we talk potions?”
He felt oddly relieved by the change in subject. While the incident had made him more curious than ever about just what, exactly, this woman was, something about it all was disturbing him on a level he did not care to experience much less examine.
He set with relish to the much more familiar and less fraught task of demolishing her latest propositions. A potion to cause a person to be able to project visual images into the air for others to see? Ridiculous.
It would be useful if she continued to come up with these absurd notions, however, as it would be several more weeks before the hybrid plants would be ready for the first trials in the far more realistic, but still highly unlikely, potion to suppress prescient dreams. If Minerva did not continue to receive updates on their progress, and he had no doubt she was asking them both separately, she would surely start hounding him to speed the process, which was already progressing at the fastest possible rate.
If it were possible to hasten things, I certainly would. I cannot wait until that first potion either fails, as it almost certainly must, or even succeeds. These meetings have become a waste of time, for all that they keep Minerva pacified. Add in the time I now spend tutoring Lightfeather and his little friend – also Celia’s fault, by Merlin’s beard! – and it is no wonder I have barely finished reading half of last month’s International Journal of Potions. The sooner this foolishness is finished, the sooner my life can return to some semblance of normalcy.
He took a sip of his tea and wondered briefly if the house-elves might start serving some of these blends she used. They did tend to grow on one, and he rather thought he would miss them once these meetings finally became unnecessary.