Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum.
Hermione knew something was wrong with Harry as soon as he came back from running the errand for Professor McGonagall. His cheeks were red and he grabbed indiscriminately at the books that were sitting on the table, stuffing them into his bag with some force. His face was expressionless as he threw the bag across his shoulder and walked silently from the common room without even acknowledging Hermione or Ron.
“What’s up with him now?” Ron asked, watching as his friend’s tousled head popped through the portrait and out of sight.
“I don’t know,” Hermione mused, “but I bet we’ll find out sooner or later. Knowing Harry, probably sooner.”
“I saw Lupin at breakfast. He looked terrible and I overheard him say something to Dumbledore about leaving. D’you think that’s what it is?”
“Could be.” Hermione carefully placed her Charms textbook in her bag along with Arithmancy: Advanced Techniques for the Advanced Student. “Why don’t you catch up with him and find out? I don’t think I could bear it if he sulks for the whole day.”
Ron pulled a face and got up from the comfortable chair he was sitting in. He hated trying to prise information from Harry. It was like trying to get pumpkin juice from a stone: fruitless.
“Are we still on for lunch?” he asked shyly, picking up his stuff from its scattered position around his feet.
“Yes, of course.” Hermione smiled as she grabbed her little box of S.P.E.W. badges. “We can try and sell a few of these too.”
That wasn’t quite what Ron had had in mind but it was better than nothing so he nodded with feigned enthusiasm. He loped off after Harry and finally caught up with him at the head of the main stairs.
“Hang on, mate,” he puffed, as Harry was about to descend into the entrance hall. “Wait for me.”
“Hurry up then,” Harry said irritably. “I haven’t got all day.”
“Keep your messy hair on,” Ron replied once he had finally caught up with his friend. “Who’s got your goat this time?”
“It’s nothing,” Harry said, taking the lead and stomping down the stairs.
“Nah, it is something. You’ve got a face like a slapped Veela. Come on, out with it.”
Harry knew Ron well enough to know he wouldn’t be happy until he had found out so he stopped walking and turned a scowling face to Ron.
“It’s Snape,” he said, lowering his voice so they could not be overheard.
“What’s he done this time? Put you in another detention? Poisoned Hedwig?” Ron grinned.
“Of course he hasn’t poisoned Hedwig!” Harry snapped back in a loud voice.
“Shhhh!” Ron glanced around him to see if there was anyone in the vicinity. The rest of the students didn’t seem to have made their way down from their common rooms yet so they were in luck.
“It was Maeve,” Harry said, lowering his voice again. “I went to drop off some parchments with Snape this morning for Professor McGonagall and saw her in his room.”
“How did you find out where his room was?” Ron asked. It was well known that the teachers’ rooms were out-of-bounds to students. Professor O’Malley had been the exception to the rule in making the whereabouts of her private rooms known, but Ron was pretty sure Snape would never have done the same.
“McGonagall told me, but I’ve known for ages. Some of his pet Slytherins know where it is so they can go and see him when they get stuck on their Potions homework. Nothing like a nice bit of in-house favouritism, is there?” Harry grinned ruefully.
“Okay, so what does it matter if she was in his room. She was probably just dropping something off.”
“Yeah, like her clothes,” Harry spat.
“You’re joking!” Ron’s eyes almost popped out of his head as all sorts of images flashed into his head. “You saw her…in the buff?” He was agog. Ron could only fantasise about seeing a fully formed female without clothes so this was the stuff of dreams.
“No,” Harry replied impatiently. Sometimes Ron acted so stupidly that he could cheerfully have smacked him. “She was in his bed in her night…thingy. I saw her through the mirror.”
“Wow!” Ron was still looking shell-shocked. “Who would have thought the greasy git had it in him. Quirrell, I could understand, all the women fancied him, but Snape? She doesn’t set herself high standards, does she? Imagine him kissing you…it would be like being kissed by a sweaty Horklump.” Ron gave a mock shudder and laughed, but one look at his friend’s face told him that Harry didn’t think it was a laughing matter. “Look, Harry, I hate Snape as much as the next person but you have to admit it is quite funny. Maybe she’ll calm him down a bit, make him a bit less of a complete arse. It could have its up-side.”
Harry merely continued to glare at him in a disgusted manner.
“I just don’t understand how she can do it…. whatever she did…. with him. She knows I hate him and she knows what he’s done to me in the past.” Harry’s appalled face just made Ron want to smile even more.
“I think you’re over-reacting a bit, mate.” Ron said with a shrug. “It’s none of our business what they get up to in their own rooms. It’s not like she’s not doing it to get at you, is she? And she probably wouldn’t have wanted you to see her.”
Harry shook his head.
“Well, there you go then. Let ‘em get on with it. You’re just put out after that disaster with Cho.”
“This has got nothing to do with Cho!” Harry said. “I never really got Cho. She went all weird on me and cried a lot. I don’t understand girls in the slightest and right now I have no wish to, either. I just wish Maeve hadn’t spent the night with Snape.”
“Good morning, gentlemen,” Remus said as he trotted down the stairs with his case in his hand and an air of grim defeat about him. “Off to classes?”
“Yeah,” they muttered in unison. “Charms.”
“Good,” Remus mumbled. “Well I’m off to do a bit of work so I doubt I’ll see you around for a bit. You will take care, won’t you?”
“What are you doing?” Harry asked and Remus smiled in response.
“Now, you know I can’t tell you that, Harry,” he said, turning to the other boy. “Thank you again, Ron, for what you did for me. You saved my life and I hope someday I can repay the debt I owe you.”
“S’all right,” Ron said with a cheerful smile as he thought back to his heroics and felt the warm glow of accomplishment on him.
“Keep yourself safe, Harry. And keep an eye on Maeve for me. I don’t think I will be seeing her for sometime.”
Harry didn’t like the sound of that at all. It sounded like Remus was going away for a long time and that could mean he was spying. When he voiced his concerns Remus brushed them away with a smile.
“No, it’s nothing like that. I’m off to work in Europe for a while. There are things to do that will help our cause and I need to get away from here and London for a bit. Don’t worry, you’ll see me again.”
He gave them both one last pat on the shoulder before recommencing his descent down the stairs.
“Remus,” Harry called and the weary looking man turned around. “I’m really sorry for what we did.”
“You’ve already apologised, Harry. There is no need for more.” He turned to go again but Harry had one last question.
“Have you said goodbye to Maeve?” He knew it was highly unlikely, if she had been holed up with Snape all night. Remus gave him a pained look before walking away without answering the question. As he reached the bottom of the stairs he heard the cold voice of Professor Snape call Harry and he almost stopped to say something. But Remus still felt the sting of Maeve’s inadvertent dismissal so he carried on walking towards the main door and out of the school.
The air was cold as one of the last frosts of winter sparkled in the early morning light. Remus felt the bright contrast of the day with his own grim mood and wished he could swap the two around.
It had been good of Dumbledore to arrange this posting with an institute in Paris. They were a very forward-thinking group that would accept him for what he was and allow him to base himself at their headquarters. It would be lonely, so far away from everyone he knew, but it had to be done. He had made a fool of himself last night with Severus and he felt it necessary to put some space between himself and Maeve. If only to give him time to sort out his feelings and accept that their relationship would always be a platonic one.
He cast one last look back at Hogwarts as he headed for Hogsmeade. It was a beautiful place, rising to touch the clouds with sky-tipped towers. Within its walls was contained such goodness and power that he felt he was walking away from the only place he had ever really felt at home, despite what had happened there in the past. He cut a lonely figure as he walked into the distance, carrying with him a lifetime of troubles.
“That will be all, Weasley,” Severus sneered at Ron, who in turn winked at Harry before hurrying along to Charms. The rest of the students were now piling their way to their lessons so Severus steered Harry away from the stairs and into a quiet corner.
“ I don’t know what you thought you saw this morning,” Severus began.
“I know exactly what I saw,” Harry cut in ruthlessly.
“Silence, Potter,” Severus snarled, annoyed both at himself for getting into this situation and at Harry for his perennially bad attitude. “You did not see what you thought you saw. There was some trouble last night and I offered Professor O’Malley the use of my rooms.”
“Yeah, right,” Harry said, disbelief etched on his face.
“Don’t be so insolent. You will tell no-one what you saw and if I hear the slightest rumour” “ he leaned close to Harry, breathing icily in his face “ “I will know exactly where it came from and the consequences for you will be dire.”
“Great, more detentions,” Harry said, staring into the black eyes fearlessly. There was nothing Snape could do to him now that would, in any way, cause him to lose his temper or suffer. Dire wasn’t a word that had any power over Harry, not after Sirius’ death.
“I am not telling you this for myself, you insufferable child. It is in Professor O’Malley’s best interests that rumours do not fly around the school. Surely even with your limited intelligence you can see that?”
Severus resented the need for this conversation and would have relished strangling Maeve for her carelessness in leaving that door open. But still, if he really examined his feelings, really accepted her presence, then he would have found a part of him that had quite enjoyed having her company in his rooms that morning. How different from the usual tightly ordered routine it had been. Admittedly he had been very uncomfortable with the prospect of discovery but her physical presence had been rather… stimulating.
“Yes, fine,” Harry said in a flat monotone. He brought Severus back to earth and away from the sudden image of Maeve’s pale skin being caressed by the grey blankets.
“Well, what are you waiting for? Get to class,” Severus barked as he whirled away and stalked back to his own classroom where a bunch of terrified first-years were anticipating yet another morning of hell.
Maeve, meanwhile, had left his bats well alone. Knowing her lapsed skills at Transfiguration and the flighty personality of bats they wouldn’t have made good shoes anyway. She waited until the school was safely tucked up in lessons and then flung her cloak around her and slipped barefoot from Severus’ room. As she closed the door behind her she paused, looking back. It was an unwelcoming room, dark and ominous, but she had been strangely happy sharing the space with the ill-tempered Severus. He had snapped and snarled his way through the morning but she put that down to his usual remoteness and the fact he seldom had to share living space with anyone. For a shivering moment she wondered what it would have been like if he had left that creaky couch and joined her in the expansive bed. With a smile at her own forwardness she clicked the door on its latch and scuttled up to her own room. She had half an hour to get ready for lessons and she had no idea what state her rooms would be in after the ruckus last night.
As she walked into the familiar surroundings she could still smell the binding magic from the previous night. Everything was exactly as she had left it, right down to the scattering of papers and notebooks that surrounded the sofa. She ignored the mess and quickly changed into something more appropriate, leaving the silk of her slip in a gleaming heap on the bed. Malachy Meany’s voice filled the silence as she prepared for her first lesson. Her mother was a whore and her father had just wanted her money. Maeve looked up at her mother’s portrait, as if she could find some flesh and blood comfort in the scratchy oil paint. Grainne smiled contentedly down and Maeve realised she hadn’t known her mother all that well. She had spent far more time with her grandmother than with the tall, graceful witch who had given birth to her.
A distant memory of simmering perfume stirred beneath Maeve’s nose. Freesia always made her feel comforted and she now remembered why “ it had been her mother’s scent. Memories of the elegantly dressed witch came flooding back. Maeve had been a solitary child and sometimes she felt a million miles away from her mother but they had always managed to form a connection that was unbreakable. Many evenings Grainne had come to her room to read her a bedtime story and those illicit, late night meetings held a very special place in her memory. It was at these times that she had learned of the history of Ireland and the wonderful tales of heroism and romance. It was on such evenings that she had learned of Lugh Lamfada and his exploits. Maeve had been transfixed as her mother told her of the great Irish warrior Cuchulian and his attempts to defeat the marauding queen, Maeve of Connacht. With a warm realisation she realised that these people were no longer the stuff of fairy tales and long distant history. These had become her story. Was she named after Maeve of Connacht, she wondered? Did her mother choose that name because she wanted her daughter to have a strong sense of her own destiny. So many questions that would never be answered and all the while Grainne stared benevolently down at her daughter.
With a glance at the clock Maeve realised she had only twenty minutes to get to her first lesson so she scooped up Alice’s papers and dropped them back into the box. It was only then that she realised something was missing. She frowned as she looked underneath the sofa and scrabbled about with the cushions. Why, she thought, where books always going missing from her room? There could be only one explanation and it probably concerned Malachy Meany. So Alice had been on to something in her research and had entered it into her diary. It must have been something fairly important if Voldemort had sent one of his spies to collect it. With so little time to get to her lesson Maeve really didn’t give it much thought, vowing to follow up on the idea when she had free time later that day.
In a flurry of robes and books she left her office and jogged down the corridor, surprised by the presence of a few blue bubbles floating along the ceiling. They bobbed upwards before bursting with a gentle pop on the rough stonework. Blue bubbles…. She stopped to watch and wondered why they jogged a memory. Of course, gum wrappers! Not just gum wrappers either but the actual gum. She mentally kicked herself for being so stupidly short-sighted when something so obvious had been in front of her for so long. Her mind made a huge mental leap and connected the gum wrappers that Alice pressed on her son and the fact that she had been finding pieces of the actual gum around the school. But not just around the school “ there had been the piece Ron found on the ground at Abbeylara. She felt a shiver as she made a tenuous connection between the person who could have left them, either by accident or design. Roderick was always in and out of her rooms, he had been sitting with her at lunch when she found the piece beneath the table and, of course, he had been in the forest at Abbeylara. She had no idea what Roderick chewing Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum meant but she felt sure it meant something.
“Roderick,” she called into the emptiness. There was no response and yet he should have been there. At the very least Titus Snow should have been patrolling her room. She walked back towards her door, the thought of teaching temporarily forgotten. As a robed figure appeared at the other end of the corridor she stopped and blinked for a moment before recognising the blonde, pale features of Draco Malfoy.
“Mr Malfoy,” she called, surprised by his presence. “What are you doing in this part of the school?”
“Fancied a walk,” he said with a disrespectful smirk on his face. “Just, sort of, wound up here.”
There were so many things about the boy that unsettled her and she was overeager to be rid of him. His startling blue eyes challenged her as she told him to get to class immediately or lose house points.
“I’m on my way,” he said slowly, before his eyes were drawn up to the remaining few blue bubbles that floated just beneath the beams. He grinned a strange grin as his eyes flicked back to her. “Been chewing gum?”
“And if I had,” she said, alerted by his sudden interest in the one thing she herself was interested in.
“Well, I suppose you would be,” he said. “All things considered.”
“Yes,” she said. Her excitement grew as she wondered if she could lead him on into saying something else. It was impossible to forget who Draco’s father was. Draco couldn’t be expelled or censured just for having a criminal father but she felt sure he still kept in contact with the fugitive. No doubt Lucius Malfoy greatly encouraged his son to follow in his footsteps. “But sometimes you have to do these things, don’t you Draco?” her eyes narrowed, goading him into further speech.
“You do if you know what’s good for you,” Draco replied. “Dad knew before anyone, of course. He was the one that…” He stopped, the realisation of who he was talking to overrode any need to brag about his famous, if elusive, father.
“Did he, Draco?” Maeve said, stepping just a little bit closer to the boy. He had grown in the past few months and was now almost as tall as she was. Maeve had met Lucius once, a long time ago, at Severus’ parents house and he too had been fairly tall. The son obviously took after the father in more ways than one. “The one that…what, Draco?”
The boy flushed slightly before bouncing back with a sly expression.
“Well, surely, if you’re chewing the stuff then you’ll know. Nice plot, keeping it to yourself though. Let the rest of them suffer.” He gave her one last look that clearly suggested he felt he had got the upper hand in the conversation before hurrying off down the corridor.
“What the bloody hell was that about?” she muttered to herself. Things were definitely taking a turn for the peculiar and she realised that finding out what the mystery was surrounding Drooble’s gum was fast becoming a top priority for her. Actually, she thought with a quick look at her wristwatch, her number one priority right now was teaching a bunch of second-years how to repel transfiguring spells. It was fairly advanced magic but she felt sure they could handle it. All her classes needed pushing. Defence Against the Dark Arts had become one of the most important subjects on the curriculum as Voldemort continued to grow in strength. She scurried off in the direction of her classroom but just as she came to the statue of Maelfric the Maleficent she collided with a shifty figure that had walked right into her path. Her sheaf of parchments flew into the air and cascaded around them in a shower of pale, cream ribbons. As she scrabbled to pick them up she barely had chance to notice the fixed grin that Filch the caretaker was wearing.
“Well, we are in a hurry, aren’t we?” he said.
“Yes,” she spluttered, “I’m in a very big hurry if you must know. No, please don’t apologise for walking straight in to me…it’s quite all right.” She stood up with the parchments jiggling around precariously in her arms. “And thanks for helping me to pick them all up, very good of you.” The sarcasm was lost on Filch who merely grinned even wider.
“Seen your pal recently?” he asked, mentally wrong footing her.
“Who?” she snapped, trying to steer a path clear of him but it was proving difficult when you couldn’t see where you were going for parchments.
“Your red-cloaked friend. The one that likes to go for midnight trips out of school.”
“Roderick?” she asked in surprise. “When was he out of school?”
Filch looked very pleased to have scored a bullseye on the surprise front. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he said, rubbing his hands together in a very oily fashion.
“Yes, I would like to know, but I don’t have all day to stand around waiting for you to stop playing games. If I want to know, I’ll ask him myself.” A parchment escaped and flew to the floor at Filch’s feet. He bent down to pick it up, revealing a shining bald patch in the middle of his thinning, greasy hair.
“You could ask him,” he said, holding the roll out to her, “but I don’t reckon he’ll tell you. And I don’t reckon he’ll tell you who he meets with in The Hog’s Head late on a night. I could tell you though, for a price.” And with that he stuffed the roll of parchment back into the pile she was carrying and shuffled off down the corridor leaving Maeve to look after him with a bewildered look on her face. Now she was starting to get very annoyed at the incapability of anyone to give her a straight answer to anything, ever.
She made it to her class with a minute to spare and plonked her teetering load unceremoniously down on her desk with an instruction to the students to settle themselves down. She huffed and puffed for a bit as she gave them their instructions and divided them into groups of three. Her mind was firmly elsewhere and it was taking all her powers of concentration to get this class going. Despite her best efforts the class was an unmitigated disaster. Mala Hopkirk turned Alan Davies into a huge, white rabbit using a charm that she couldn’t remember. No one knew how she had managed it so they spent a precious half hour trying to undo the charm. All the normal cancelling spells wouldn’t work and it was only when Maeve let fly with a particularly brutal Expere Magicus spell did the rabbit gradually transform itself back to the petrified-looking Alan. He still had a little bit of white fluffiness around his cheeks though and the tail didn’t disappear for the best part of a week. He avoided Mala like the plague after that, though secretly Maeve rather admired the power of the spell the young second-year had cast.
With only twenty minutes of the lesson left Maeve was beginning to lose her temper at their apparent inability to throw off the charms. When Katherine Brooke managed to unintentionally give David Jones a bloody nose while trying to turn him into an elephant she finally lost her temper completely. She barked at them all to sit in their seats and write up their findings immediately.
“Not that you’ll have much to write,” she bellowed. “I’m bloody hopeless won’t take very long now, will it!”
The class looked at her reproachfully as Katherine helped David from the room to see if Madam Pomfrey could reset his nose. Now that the pain was subsiding David was rather enjoying the attention of the pretty Katherine. Maeve thought his squeals of pain were more to gain sympathy than genuine cries of distress. It was with the utmost relief that she welcomed the bell to signify the end of the lesson and she dismissed them all thankfully. She was so flustered with them that she forgot to set any homework, it was only later that she realised why they had stampeded out of the classroom so quickly. They wanted to get out before she realised her omission.
As she recovered form the ordeal the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff seventh-years poured in to the room and sat themselves down, looking warily at the blood on the floor left by David Jones’ nose. Maeve cleared it up with a quick “Scourgify” before setting them some text-based work to go through. She couldn’t face another practical lesson before lunchtime, which came around all too slowly.
Just when she finally thought she would have the classroom to herself she felt a presence at the doorway and looked up to see Roderick standing there.
“Hi,” she said briefly and continued to tidy her desk.
“Hello, yourself,” he replied jovially. “Lunch?”
“No, thanks,” she said firmly. “I really have far too much to do…and this time I mean it.”
“Sure?”
“Yes, absolutely sure, Roderick.” She moved towards him, not intending to give an inch because she knew he would do his best to persuade her. She had too much to think about to let Roderick cloud her judgement with his charming smile and easy manner. He moved to allow her to pass and she carried on walking away.
“Sorry about last night,” he said, not moving from the doorway to the classroom.
“What about it?” she asked, still eager to be away and looking over Alice’s books. “Oh, actually,” she continued before he had the chance to explain, “I do have a question for you…one posed by our curious caretaker. Do you drink at the Hog’s Head?”
She couldn’t be certain but she thought she caught the faintest shift in his attitude as he licked his lips.
“No,” he said. “Why would I drink there? It’s a complete hole filled with thieves and miscreants.”
“Okay,” she said, not sure whether she believed him or not. “You’re sure you don’t… meet anyone there?”
He licked his lips again before answering. “No.”
“Okay.” She turned to carry on walking, half expecting him to call her back but he didn’t. He stood watching her go, realising he had a serious problem in the form of Argus Filch that would have to be dealt with, and soon.
Unfortunately Maeve wasn’t destined to get back to her rooms without one last encounter. As she passed the library she spotted Harry looking rather lost.
“What’s the matter, Harry?” she asked. “Ron and Hermione deserted you.”
She realised as soon as the first flush rose up Harry’s cheeks that he knew she had been in Severus’ rooms that morning. That explained why Severus had left in such a strop with a grand slam of the door. Harry was unable to meet her eyes and mumbled something about S.P.E.W. Maeve was uncertain whether he was merely embarrassed at what he thought might have happened or whether he was still harbouring a grudge against the idea that she and Severus might be closer than he would like them to be.
“Spit it out,” she said, mentally shelving her plans to go over Alice’s notes again.
“Spit what out?” he said, running a hand through his already messy hair. “I’ve got to go to lunch.”
“Then why are you standing in front of the library?” she asked pointedly.
“Wanted something to read.” He didn’t convince himself, let alone Maeve, who tapped her foot lightly on the stone floor and regarded him with an inquisitive stare.
“Oh for Merlin’s sake, Harry. Will you stop brooding and tell me what’s bothering you. Did you perhaps find something out you didn’t like?”
“Why?” he asked, changing tack from unwillingness to talk at all to head-on confrontational. “Why do you have to spend so much time with Snape? I’ve really tried to get my head around it. Tried to understand what you see in him, but you know what? I can’t. He’s a nasty prat who has nothing good to say about anyone.”
“We have been here before, Harry,” she said. “I am not going over this again. You have to accept that your view of Professor Snape is tainted by events. I know he has been hard on you and some of your classmates…”
“Yeah right…he’s hard on everyone. Except for the Slytherins.”
“I spent last night in Professor Snape’s rooms, Harry,” she said, “because he caught a Death Eater in my own room. Not just any Death Eater but a member of my own family.” She watched as her words had their sobering effect. “Now, given those circumstances I was rather happy not to have to sleep in my room last night and took up Severus’ kind offer of a bed, and a watchful eye, for the night. He slept on a rather uncomfortable couch. Whatever you want to think about Professor Snape, he has a great deal of courage and occasionally kindness. I do believe he has saved your life on one or two occasions.”
“How did you know?” he asked.
“Hermione is a font of knowledge when it comes to you and your escapades. Please, Harry, don’t judge him on just what you see now. I tried to tell you all of this at Grimmauld Place but you wouldn’t listen.”
“I wasn’t ready to listen.” Harry’s temper flared for a moment and then died as he recalled the scenes from Severus’ Pensieve memories the previous year.
“And are you ready now?”
“I don’t know,” he replied truthfully. “I saw something last year that made me think a bit differently, not really about Snape but about my father and…and Sirius.”
A group of first-years burst from the library giggling and Harry instantly fell silent as they passed. He seemed reluctant to continue with what he had been about to say so, with a feeling of inevitability, Maeve invited him up to her room. He clearly had something on his mind and she wanted, amongst other things, to try and get him to give up on his grudge with Severus. Maybe if one half of the feuding duo gave up then the other could be persuaded to see sense also.
Harry looked suddenly hesitant as they approached her rooms, as if the need to confide was receding. She jollied him through the door and got him to take a seat at her desk, which he did with a little reluctance. He looked curiously at the huge box that she moved over to the window and couldn’t help himself asking what it was.
“It’s a bit sensitive,” she said and Harry thought she looked momentarily mournful. He understood when she told him about Alice and her things.
“Does Neville know?” Harry asked, his eyes drawn irresistibly to the box and its contents.
“No, I’m not sure I want Neville to know. It could be too upsetting.”
“You gave me Mum’s book; you didn’t think that would be upsetting.”
“That was different, Harry. I knew you would want that book; it was a nice reminder for you of your mum’s schooldays. This is something else entirely. This was what got Alice a life-sentence in St Mungo’s.”
Harry remembered the photograph Mad-Eye Moody had shown him last year of his mum and dad with the other Order members. He felt the painful memory of how upset he had been wash over him and he knew that Maeve was right to be cautious. If it had been his mum’s things he would probably have wanted to see them, but in his own time.
“So,” she changed the subject. “What did you see last year that made you think differently about your father?”
Harry shifted in his chair and began to play with the miniature paperweight that sat on Maeve’s desk. It contained a witch on a broomstick flying above a small landscape of a town. As he shook it sparks showered down on the tiny figure and a silver comet whipped across the sky. The model witch turned to him and waved shouting something that sounded like, “Welcome to sunny Scunthorpe, you’ll never leave!” He looked at Maeve with a surprised expression on his face at the fact she could own something so dreadful.
“Oh, that was Eric Bickerdyke, one of the Hufflepuff first years,” she said apologetically. Harry seemed to have a vague recollection of a slightly chubby boy with flat, sandy hair and a permanent stupid grin on his face. “He went there for his Christmas holidays and brought me that back. I didn’t have the heart to get rid of it and to be honest it’s grown on me…she can be quite cheering when you’re feeling a bit grim.”
“Right.” Harry looked at her as if she had gone off her head. “Well, I did something last year that, looking back, I’m not particularly proud of.”
“Okay,” Maeve said, nodding for him to continue.
“I was having Occlumency lessons with Snape and…”
“Is this about the Pensieve?” she asked.
“How did you know?” he asked, feeling a little uncomfortable by just how much she did know about him.
“Remus,” she said. “He told me about what had happened with your previous lessons when I agreed to take you for Occlumency, which incidentally we need to schedule in for this week before I forget.”
“Did he tell you what I saw?” Harry asked, reaching once again for the Scunthorpe witch to see if her cheering effects really did work.
“No, but if it was Severus’ Pensieve memory and he didn’t want you to see what was in it then I can have a pretty good guess. You saw your father bullying him, didn’t you?”
Harry nodded and put the witch back; she didn’t work her magic for him. He knew Maeve would say much the same as Remus had done when he had asked him about his father but he had to know anyway. “Was he really so awful?”
“He had his moments. We all had our moments,” she said cautiously. “He was a very good-looking man, Harry. He was also fairly clever and good at Quidditch. He had no shortage of admirers and he played to the gallery in that respect. He wasn’t a bad man but he was hard on Severus and I don’t think Severus entirely deserved that. They didn’t like him because of what they perceived him to be. Sirius was probably worse than your dad and really hated Severus because of his family and his knowledge of darkness. But you see, Harry, Sirius was just as guilty of the prejudices he accused his family of. He didn’t despise Severus for who he was, he despised him for what he was.” She stopped speaking and let her gaze fall to the tawdry trinket that had been given to her so happily by the young student. “It’s not what we are or where we come from, it’s what we do…a distinction that Sirius and your dad where too young to make at that time. They made Severus suffer for it and on top of what he had to cope with at home it made Severus a little bitter.”
“At home?” Harry asked.
“Severus’ home life was not good, Harry. He could probably give you a run for your money in that department. I’m not going to say any more about that, but what your dad and Sirius did was not helpful.”
“But Snape wasn’t particularly nice either. He called my mum a Mudblood when she tried to help him,” Harry said.
“An instinctive reaction. Wounded pride makes us say hurtful things that we don’t mean. I’d be willing to bet you and your friends have indulged in the same thing once or twice.”
“Yeah, but we’d never call anyone a Mudblood.” Harry was indignant that she would even consider this.
“Harry, six years ago you didn’t even know what a Mudblood was. You would have had no idea of its significance. Severus probably heard the term so much that it ceased to have any meaning for him. For him it was probably no worse than calling someone an idiot. Things are different now, he knows better.”
“You think so?”
“Yes, Harry, I think so.”
“You have a lot of faith in people, don’t you?”
“Someone has to.” She picked up her little witch and gave her a shake. “I have faith in you.”
He didn’t know what to say. She was doing the unthinkable and making him view Severus Snape with less loathing than he had that morning and he wasn’t sure if he liked it. He pushed his chair back from the table and walked over to the box, nudging it gently with his foot.
“I’m afraid of what’s going to happen,” he said. “I’m afraid I’m going to let everyone down. I know what the prophecy is, I know what I have to do and I have managed to get through the whole of this year pretending it’s not going to happen. It is going to happen, isn’t it?”
“Harry, nothing in life is certain. Nothing that’s good and nothing that’s bad is certain. We don’t know how this will turn out.”
“What if I die?”
“We’ll all die eventually.”
“That’s a stupid thing to say,” Harry fired back. “I don’t want to die now. I want my life.”
“But we will all die. And sometimes we don’t need to physically die to feel dead. Don’t allow yourself to think about your death. It’s there waiting for you and only it knows when it will appear. To spend your life, however long or short it may be, looking for it is just a clever way to torment yourself. Enjoy your friends, enjoy your loved ones…just don’t waste your energy on hate and regret.”
Harry wasn’t sure she fully understood his sense of impending doom but he conceded that to live his life waiting for Voldemort to throw one last fell swoop was indeed a waste. He looked again at the box.
“You should let Neville see this. He’ll understand and whatever it is you’re looking for, he might be able to help. I’m going to get some lunch and then throw myself into Transfiguration. I might even try and escape and visit Hogsmeade.” He grinned at her and she gave a playful frown.
“Living your life to the full does not mean breaking every rule in sight and if I catch you out of bounds I will personally flay you, understood?”
“I think so,” he said, leaving the box and picking up his bag from the floor. “Thanks, Maeve,” he said and he realised he meant it. He felt considerably better now than he had after Severus had spoken to him that morning. “Nice nightie, by the way,” he laughed, as he opened the door.
“Don’t push it!” she yelled after him. “Oh and, Harry?”
“Yes,” he poked his head back round the door.
She held out the little witch to him. “Take her. Trust me, she’ll cheer you up when you need it most.”
Harry took the little piece of domed glass and felt its smooth surface beneath his fingers. He grinned as he dropped her into his bag. “I don’t even know where Scunthorpe is!” he said as he closed the door behind him.
She examined the box again. Could she risk upsetting Neville by showing it to him? Neville wouldn’t be able to help, surely? He had been a baby when all this had happened so how could he have any idea what his mother had discovered? She carried the box through to he sitting room and placed it by the fireplace as the portrait of her mother watched her serenely. She lifted some of the notebooks back out and checked her watch. She had half an hour before the fourth years demanded her attention and she intended to make the most of it. Her grumbling stomach would have to wait.
Neville wouldn’t leave her alone as she grappled with the information contained within the notebooks. Why was he so important? Why was his mother giving him these bloody wrappers? What did she want him to know? It had to be connected to Draco and the things he had hinted at with his father. What had he said about allowing others to suffer? So many questions, she thought as she looked up at her mother, and so few answers.
“Why would you give me gum wrappers if you were in Alice’s place?” she asked the portrait. “What would you want to give me if you were in Alice’s situation?” She watched her mother smile that bland smile and was about to turn away when Grainne’s mouth parted.
“Protection.” The soft lilt carried through the room as Maeve looked at her mother in amazement. All that portrait had ever done was smile and look pretty. “I’d want to give you protection, child.”
Maeve looked at her mother and understood exactly what Alice was doing. The answer to the riddle of the Somnus Funestus was in that gum. She tried to grasp at the implications. If you chewed that gum you would be protected against the vapour. That was what Draco had been getting at and that was why Alice was trying to give her child clues “ she wanted to protect him. In Alice’s befuddled brain she couldn’t work out that she should have just given Neville the un-chewed gum… or perhaps she was too afraid for herself. Maeve clutched Alice’s books to her chest as she realised the solution had been there all along and no one had seen it.
Another, more unsettling thought then developed in her mind. Why was Roderick chewing it so avidly? She had a horrible feeling it wasn’t just a coincidence. Could Filch have been right about his late night meetings? If he was then that would mean Roderick had lied to her.
Within seconds she had stuck her head in the fire and was looking out into Severus’ dank room. She scanned the room that had been her haven earlier and couldn’t see him but she could hear movement in the bedroom.
“Severus!” she called from the feisty flames. His fire crackled and flared, bringing him rushing back into the room.
“What’s the matter?” he asked urgently. Maeve had never stuck her head into his fireplace before and he was alarmed.
“Come up to my rooms. I think I have discovered something but I need to speak to you first.” Her face glowed in the firelight and he watched as her cheeks grew bright.
“I can’t just drop everything because you have found yourself,” he said tartly. “Is it something to do with this morning? I’m sorry I slammed the door.”
“No, it’s nothing to do…did you just apologise then?”
“Might have done.” He gave the tube of belladonna extract he was holding an unexpected squeeze and the purple paste shot out onto the floor.
“Amazing,” she said, shaking her head and sending hot sparks onto his rug. “No, seriously. I think I have found out what will cure the Sleepers, but there are complications.”
“Such as?”
“Just come up to my rooms, I’ve got a nasty feeling that the person that’s supposed to be watching me could be part of the problem.”
The tube of belladonna extract spun on the floor as it fell from Severus’ hands and the fire was extinguished by the harsh gust of wind caused by the slamming of the outer door.