A Firm Hand.
Rain lashed against the castle walls with all the ferocity of an angered god behind it. As the huge drops of water pounded the threshing lake the wind thrust itself into the equation, turning the water into a grey foam of distress. The violent weather cast a shadow of gloom over the staff and students alike. Quidditch practice had been cancelled, Hagrid’s Care of Magical Creatures lessons had been abandoned and Professor Trelawney had looked on in dismay as her carefully prepared mounds of dirt, which she had intended to use for a geomancy lesson later that day, were washed away to form tiny rivulets of mud. She sighed and wondered if they could study the wind instead.
Harry and Ron hung around, despondently, at a second floor window on their way to their first lesson.
“Raindrops the size of balloons,” Ron observed with a scowl.
“That wind would blow you straight out of the Quidditch pitch,” Harry added. “You’d probably end up in Scandinavia.”
“Or worse, you could end up back at Grimmauld Place with mum mooning around.”
“Yeah, that would be bad…erm...” Harry quickly realised that insulting your best friend’s mum wasn’t quite the done thing but Ron just grinned.
“Wouldn’t it just,” he said, pulling back from the window and catching sight of Hermione’s untamed hair bobbing into view. Their lunch yesterday had been a success, not a great success, admittedly, but nothing had gone drastically wrong. Well, not unless he counted one of the first years catching Ron with a SoapSud Hex to the mouth because Ron wouldn’t take no for an answer when he tried to foist one of the S.P.E.W. badges on the unsuspecting girl. Hermione had found it quite amusing but felt honour bound to remove the bubbles before they set to work cleaning Ron’s robes as well as his mouth.
“You have to be more persuasive, Ron,” she had tutted. “Trying to pin them on using force is just going to get you into trouble.”
But once she had been cajoled to put the badges away, they had gone down to the lake with some sandwiches that Hermione had arranged. The weather had been considerably better than it was today so they had spent a pleasant half an hour watching the water and enjoying one another’s company. There had only been the slightest hint of shyness at first but it had soon disappeared as they got into a heated discussion about Arithmancy and whether there was any point to it.
“Hermione!” Ron shouted. He thumped Harry on the shoulder and said he would see him later as he jogged down the corridor towards Hermione.
“See you later, Ron,” Harry said, almost sadly. He didn’t really want to admit to himself that he felt left out, but he did. They had been happy enough as a trio and now it seemed to be coming to an end. As he walked towards Transfiguration though he found himself realising they hadn’t always got along. There had been countless arguments last year and even this year had had a shaky start. Perhaps it was natural for friends to drift apart, but he couldn’t help thinking that Hermione and Ron weren’t drifting apart at all. Quite the opposite in fact, they were getting extremely close.
He was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t see Neville come bounding down the corridor towards him with a big, daft grin on his face.
“Hello, Harry,” he said. “I’ve lost Trevor again but Luna said she thought she had seen him in the Ravenclaw common room and she’ll bring him down later. I wonder what it’s like in there?”
“No idea, Neville,” Harry said disinterestedly. “Probably full of books and serious- minded attitudes, knowing the Ravenclaws.”
“That’s a bit unfair, Harry,” Neville replied jovially. “They’re a great bunch, really. I wanted to ask you something though.”
“No, I haven’t done my Transfiguration homework,” Harry said.
“It’s nothing to with that,” Neville said, taking slight umbrage that people always thought he was after copying homework. “I just wondered, ‘cause you hang around a lot with Professor O’Malley, if you knew anything about that bloke that’s watching her.”
“Nah,” Harry replied and with a flash of annoyance directed Neville in Ron’s direction. “Ron’s the one that’s met him properly. I’ve seen him a few times and he seemed okay. Why?”
“Because I saw him and Snape having a right argument yesterday. Snape was going to…” Neville stopped, realising that Snape had prevented Neville getting into trouble for casting spells on a teacher. He realised that to mention the Cruciatus Curse would have been a bit unfair, especially given Harry’s hatred of the teacher.
“Going to what?” Harry’s attention focused at the mention of Severus.
“He was going to punch him, I think,” Neville lied. “They were having a pretty nasty argument about her. That bloke said some horrible things.”
“Snape’s always saying horrible things,” Harry said.
“Not Snape, the other one.”
“Now, now, gentlemen.” Professor McGonagall stood there with a look of impatience on her face. “Are you coming to my lesson or not? Chattering will not get these tables Transfigured.”
Harry shrugged at Neville. Whatever arguments Snape got himself in to, they were none of his concern.
Severus had been determined that he would not oversleep again and had managed to wake himself at five-thirty. Creeping from the warm bed, he had gone to sit in the other room with an early-morning cup of coffee, being careful not to make any noise that would wake the still sleeping Maeve. He shivered as he hurriedly dressed, making a mental note to purchase some new night robes. Something black, perhaps, with a little motif. The fizzing of his fire interrupted his ruminations about nightwear and he turned to see Professor Dumbledore smiling placidly at him. With a furtive glance towards the bedroom to make sure that Maeve was still asleep he bade the headmaster a good morning. It was unusual, but not unheard of, for Dumbledore to want to speak with him at such an early hour.
“Now, Severus,” the headmaster said. “It’s good to see you are up already. I want to see you in my office for a few moments before classes begin. I think I have solved out problems regarding a teacher to fill Maeve’s post and possibly your own. Perhaps you could call in on Maeve and tell her I’d like to see her also.” There was a look in Dumbledore’s eye that Severus couldn’t quite place. As the flames cast shadows across the aged face he thought he was imagining it.
“Of course, Professor,” he said. “I’ll make sure she knows.”
Dumbledore couldn’t help the mischievous smile that crossed his lips.
“Perhaps you could take her a cup of coffee through now, Severus. It looks very reviving and I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.” With a wink and a crackle, his head vanished from the fire leaving Severus gaping at the thought that Professor Dumbledore knew exactly where his Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor had slept that night. Only this time it had been without a good reason.
For the hundredth time in the past few days Severus Snape asked himself what on earth he thought he was doing. It was complete and utter madness to be pursuing this doomed relationship with Maeve. Eventually she would either tire of him or she would leave Hogwarts and where would that leave him? Alone and bloody depressed, he reflected pessimistically. It had happened before and would inevitably happen once again. He just couldn’t understand why he had left himself open to it all over again. And, of course, this situation of her sleeping in his rooms was unacceptable. The evidence for that was in Harry’s visit the previous morning when he had seen her. He was well aware that Hogwarts allowed professors’ spouses to take up residence in Hogsmeade, but she was not his wife and in any case, that would be entirely unsatisfactory. What sort of husband and wife lived in separate places? Although, on reflection, he couldn’t help thinking that that arrangement would have suited his mother and father very well— perhaps his mother would have been saved a bruise or two.
He felt his eyes prickle from the heat of the fire, which he was still staring into intently, and he rose from his seat. Placing the coffee quietly at her bedside he could not resist the urge to touch her smooth skin. As she moved beneath his touch the necklace that she always wore moved and slithered to one side. Beneath it he noticed that the skin was puckered and tinged with an unnatural whiteness. It wasn’t a scar; it looked fresher than that. It struck Severus then that the necklace itself was burning a white noose around her neck and he felt unexpected revulsion. Her hand reached up to scrabble at her throat and righted the necklace as she gave an involuntary yawn. Maeve’s sleep-heavy eyes opened and she took a moment to revel in her surroundings. She considered it something of a personal triumph to have found her way here after the protestations she had heard from Severus at the beginning of the school year.
“I made you coffee,” he said, putting the sight of the tainted skin from his mind. “Professor Dumbledore wants to see us as soon as possible. It would seem he has covered your classes.”
“Thanks,” she said, sitting up sluggishly. “What time is it?”
“It’s a quarter to six,” he replied.
“Ugh!” she grimaced as she picked up the steaming mug. “That’s far too early.”
“Funny,” he said. “I always got the impression you were a morning person.”
“I am, but not a pre-seven-o’clock-in-the-morning person. There’s a limit.” She looked at him with a smile. “I always had you down as a night person after your performance yesterday.”
“I was late yesterday,” he said sharply. “It disconcerted me.”
“Sorry.” She put the cup down and threw back the covers, jumping from the bed with the renewed energy the coffee had given her. “I’d better get ready for Dumbledore then, hadn’t I?”
“I’ll wait in the other room,” he said, displaying coyness at the intimacy of watching her dress.
She whipped the dress over her shoulders and watched as he hurried from the room. “I won’t be a minute,” she called after him. “I take it Dumbledore has managed to persuade Remus to stay on for a bit?”
Severus stopped the hurried combing of his hair and debated telling her the truth. She would over-react; women always over-reacted in situations like this. He settled on a small white lie.
“No, I’m afraid your friend had to leave. Work to do for The Order, I believe.”
“Oh,” she sounded very let down. “But he didn’t even say goodbye.”
Walking in to the room her face displayed her disappointment and Severus gave her a sympathetic look.
“He had to leave at very short notice, Maeve. He probably didn’t have time.”
“He could have sent me an owl or left me a message.”
“I’m sure he will,” he said encouragingly and opened the door, checking that the coast was clear before motioning her out. The last thing she needed to be worrying about was that selfish werewolf and its unrequited love.
Professor Dumbledore was waiting in his office with a smile on his face. It had taken some persuasion to fill Maeve’s position, albeit temporarily. He was aware the students had already suffered from her loss before Christmas and he didn’t want to disrupt them further but it couldn’t be helped. He did think that her replacement would be more than satisfactory though and it had been something of a coup for him to obtain the services of the very capable young man. It had caused a few problems with a certain member of his current staff but that could be easily overcome and was a minor inconvenience when weighed against the possible effects of Maeve working full time on the gum issue.
Dumbledore knew he was being slightly sentimental in allowing Maeve free reign with this. He should have handed it over to the Ministry and have them deal with it but something prevented him from doing that. He had a feeling it had a lot to do with Severus and his actions yesterday. The Ministry had a lot of failings and, despite the new Minister for Magic, he still felt uncomfortable handing things over to them He was most worried about Voldemort’s spies getting wind of any developments in combating their new weapon. It was far better to keep this in-house and allow Maeve to work at it with the two Sleepers they had. Always assuming, he thought bitterly, that the stricken witch and wizard didn’t die first.
The door opened to admit Maeve and Severus and with one glance Dumbledore knew his suspicions about her presence in Severus’ rooms had been correct. Professor McGonagall had told him about her late night encounter with the two of them. Maeve wore a very healthy glow while Severus looked at him furtively and made no attempt at a greeting.
“Good morning, Maeve, Severus,” he said in an enthusiastic tone. “I’m grateful you could see me at such short notice. I wanted to introduce you to Maeve’s temporary replacement.”
Both professors looked towards the man sitting in the other chair and Maeve found herself grinning.
“Charlie! Fancy meeting you here,” she laughed and held out her hand to the unconventional young man. He rose from his chair immediately and shook it. “You’ll be popular with my classes.”
Charlie Weasley looked vaguely embarrassed, as if this was not the place he wanted to be. It had taken some persuasion both from the headmaster and from his mother to get him to accept the post. He had wanted to be in the thick of things, fighting for both the community and for his dead brother. Charlie had seen Bill fall, he had watched as the green bolt tore through the older Weasley’s spirit. It was not something Charlie had yet come to terms with, and he didn’t feel he would while cooped up at Hogwarts. Nevertheless he smiled politely and mumbled a few niceties. He watched as Severus coldly nodded and couldn’t help reflecting that that greeting was more suited to his current frame of mind. Charlie had been hardened significantly in the past few months with The Order and no longer felt he had any use for emotion or pleasantries.
“I am sure Maeve will show you around and give you some lesson plans to help get you through the first few days. Hopefully this won’t be for long, Charlie. I know how you have enjoyed your work for The Order.”
Charlie frowned. Enjoyed was completely the wrong word and he wondered sometimes just how much the headmaster was in touch with the current goings-on around him. How could he possibly believe that anyone enjoyed their work for The Order when it led to such destruction?
He knew that his mother also wanted him to keep an eye on Ron for her during his stay, and of course there was always the possibility that Charlie would be able to get through to Percy. Not that Charlie wanted anything to do with the brother who couldn’t even be bothered to turn up for Bill’s funeral.
“So, Maeve,” Dumbledore said to his still smiling teacher. “You have the time to conduct your investigations and I am sure Severus will help you as much as he can. I do not need to…”
“Let me know how important this is,” Maeve finished for him. “No, Professor, you do not.”
“Good, then all is settled.” He stood up and Charlie followed suit. “Perhaps you would like to show Charlie to his new classroom while I have a quick word with Severus.”
Maeve shot Severus a look that suggested he had better spill the beans later about whatever it was that Dumbledore couldn’t say in front of Charlie as she ushered her replacement out of the door. Severus, meanwhile, looked deeply uncomfortable at the prospect of a lecture from Professor Dumbledore about his new roommate.
“Regarding your little altercation yesterday,” he began, in a sombre tone. Severus disguised the look of surprise well; he hadn’t been expecting a return to that. “You will, no doubt, be pleased to learn that I have requested that Roderick be replaced. I realise the situation is untenable after what was said between the two of you. I also appreciate that there may be a security risk.” Dumbledore looked very saddened by this admission, and well he should, Severus thought. It was tantamount to an admission of failure on the part of the older man. “He has left already. I still believe he is a good man, but I accept he may have problems that should have been picked up before he was posted here.”
“They should have been picked up before the powers that be allowed him to become an Auror.”
“Severus, if you applied to become an Auror I would support you,” Dumbledore said. It was this simple sentiment that finally made Severus a little ashamed of his condemnation of Rampton. Although the feeling of shame didn’t last long, well, it lasted as long as the pause between Dumbledore’s last comment and his next. “I want you to know I am very pleased about your current situation regarding a member of my staff.”
“Current situation?” It was useless to bluff and Severus knew it but it didn’t stop him trying.
“Maeve is a remarkable young witch. I happen to believe that you are well matched.”
“Well…”
“However, I must ask you to refrain from sharing your rooms with her unless absolutely necessary.” He watched as Severus drew himself up with indignation, he would try and bluster his way through this but Dumbledore was not to be distracted. “There are procedures for married professors, Severus. You and Maeve are not married and I would expect you to behave as such.”
“Of course,” Severus replied quietly, accepting the admonition. “It will not happen again.”
“I do hear that the Three Broomsticks has some rather nice rooms. Perhaps on the odd occasion that you are not on duty…” Dumbledore allowed the thought to rest in the air as his eyes toyed with the increasingly embarrassed younger man. He had great respect for Severus but he couldn’t help teasing him now and again. “That will be all,” he continued, letting Severus off the hook. “I hope that between you, you can get to the bottom of this gum mystery. I rather fear we are rapidly running out of time and the only chance we have against this weapon is to be found in a cure for its effects.”
Severus nodded sharply and pulled his robes tight around him as he almost ran from the room. Never again would he allow his heart to get the better of his head; it was destined to end in an embarrassment such as that he had just suffered.
As he made his way to his office the seedy form of Filch, who was grinning like a Cheshire cat, waylaid him. It was obvious from the man’s heightened colour, and inability to keep his hands from rubbing the parchment he carried, that he had something important to tell him. Severus stopped a few paces away from him. Argus may well have been an exceptionally useful spy but he usually smelt of farm animals, Merlin only knew why.
“Now then, my friend,” Filch said in a wheedling voice. “It is good news.”
“If you are referring to the departure of a certain Auror then yes, I cannot disagree.” Severus eyes slid towards the parchment. “You have something for me?”
“Just a little something I thought you might be interested in, I found it beneath his bed. Not very tidy for someone that puts on that many airs and graces.” Filch waved the parchment in the air just a few inches from the end of Severus’ long nose.
Severus knew better than to reach out and take it. There was always an elaborate dance to be done with Filch when one wanted information from him. Filch liked to feel he was doing a person a favour while at the same time extracting something from them that would enhance his own standard of living. But woe betide anyone that either snapped at the caretaker or expected something for nothing during these little exchanges.
“Sleeping all right, Mr Filch?” Severus asked quietly, not taking his eyes from the parchment and certainly not looking into the rapacious eyes of the other man.
“Now that you mention it, Professor, no I’m not. It’s all these blasted kids. The thought of them running up and down the school, getting up to all kinds of devious acts, keeps me wide awake. I’m not happy unless I am patrolling the corridors, Professor Snape. But I’m not a young man and a good night’s sleep now and again wouldn’t go amiss.” He scratched at his scalp, causing a few bugs of indeterminate origin to fly into the air.
Severus hid his revulsion well and smiled icily, this time making eye contact.
“I think I can help you, Mr Filch,” he said. “If you would like to pop by my office a little later I will have a very effective potion ready for you. It will ensure a few peaceful nights.”
“And it will be better than that muck that Pomfrey makes?”
“Oh, yes. It is much more effective than those watered-down measures. So…”
The parchment found its way into Severus’ hand and Filch gave him a grin that revealed a few blackened teeth before shuffling off in the direction he had come. Severus slipped the parchment into his robes and carried on in his way. If he was impatient to read its contents he didn’t show it— control should have been Severus’ middle name.
An over-blown, blackened sky sat oppressively over Rampton Court. The trees rustled in discontentment at what was happening beneath their roots. Had they been able to withdraw the probing tendrils that provided them with their nutrients then they would have done so. As it was, they occasionally felt the taste of darkness in the moisture they leeched from the land. The caverns beneath them rumbled with irritation at the use to which they had been put. They had gone from being a harmless pastime to being the vessel for one of the most evil plots ever perpetrated upon Wizardry and the wider world.
Lucius had awoken with a sense of purpose that morning. He knew the crop was ready to be harvested and once the Dark Lord’s Potions experts got hold of it then the domination they so desired would be closer than it had ever been. He dressed slowly in layer upon layer of the very finest clothing that his tailor could provide, smoothing the front of his robes down with care. Blond hair hung loosely down his back and he couldn’t help admiring himself in the mirror that stood in the corner of his cavern. He thought, with a flash of resentment, that it was such a shame he would have to wear that ridiculous mask when he left his rooms. It looked ludicrous and was the sort of thing that Muggles would wear. Such was the potency of the plant they were growing that magic wasn’t enough to protect them from its devastating effects. If he had considered the foolhardiness of developing something for which there was no known cure it didn’t seem to bother him. It was only Muggles that were dying during its cultivation, and the odd Mudblood.
Footsteps echoed off the walls and he rolled impatient eyes heavenward. He had never thought he would see the day when he considered a door to be a luxury. All that closed his cavern off was a tapestry hung from the ceiling above the archway that led towards the rest of the underground tunnels. The footsteps grew louder and he realised whoever they belonged to was heading in his direction. With one last glance in the mirror he walked swiftly towards the hanging threads of silver and black, twitching them to one side to face his early morning visitor.
“Good morning, Sir.” Edward Mullion stood before him, scruffy locks of hair falling into violet eyes and hiding his expression from view.
“What is it, Edward?” Lucius said. “I have things to get on with and I have no time for problems this morning. If it is Narcissa tell her she will have to go home and I will send her an owl when I get the chance.”
“No, Sir. It is nothing to do with Mrs Malfoy.” Edward looked awestruck as he prepared to impart his news. “We have a visitor, Sir.”
“I have no time, Edward. I already told you that.”
“It’s the Dark Lord himself, Sir,” Edward said, his face unable to conceal the wide-eyed wonder he felt at having seen their illustrious leader. “He’s waiting in the white cavern with a lady. He wants to speak with you immediately, Sir.”
“Why didn’t you say so straight away, fool!” Lucius snapped. Voldemort did not like to be kept waiting, each second that the Dark Lord wasted waiting for someone would be accounted for and at some point he would demand the time be paid back somehow. “Out of my way.”
Lucius pushed straight past the smaller man, who fell heavily against the cool wall of the tunnel with a muffled gasp of pain. The small mask he had been wearing slipped slightly and he grabbed at it in panic, hurriedly setting it firmly across his mouth again.
“Sir,” he called. “You have forgotten your mask.”
“If you think I will receive the Dark Lord wearing such a piece of silliness then you are a bigger fool than I thought you were. There are more important things than one’s own life.”
Edward watched him go with knitted brows. He didn’t like Lucius that much but Edward always worked on the principle of ‘better the wizard you know’. At least Lucius didn’t beat him; well, not unless he absolutely deserved it anyway. But he had heard some tales of other Death Eaters who were wickedly cruel and would beat servants for no reason at all. Lucius was quicker with his tongue than with his hands and Edward could live with insults. He cantered back up the tunnel to take up his position in the cavern that was serving as an office. He liked his position as secretary. It seemed slightly incongruous to have a fully functioning office in such a den of wickedness but there was so much to consider that this was the only way of coordinating it. He sat back at his desk and smiled to himself happily. His father would have been so proud to see how far he had come under the Dark Lord, despite Edward’s own reservations about the experiments they were conducting. Another Muggle worker had died that very morning on her way to water the crop that was to be picked later that day.
Edward looked up as he heard the sounds of someone coming down the corridor. A tall man appeared at the archway connecting the room to the tunnel and Edward gave him a questioning look, his hand automatically reaching for his wand.
“No, no, my good man… there will be no need for that,” the newcomer said with a smile. “We are on the same side. I’m here to see Lucius Malfoy.”
“Mr Malfoy is rather busy this morning and won’t be seeing anyone,” Edward said, only just managing to keep the news that the Dark Lord was here from bubbling out of his mouth.
“I’ve come rather a long way and I think he will be somewhat pleased to see me.”
With an elaborate swish of his red cloak, the man pulled a chair away from one of the other desks and sat down, crossing his long legs languidly. Edward didn’t know why, but he disliked this man on sight. Perhaps it was the flamboyant, over-confidence or the assumption that he could just waltz in there and start giving out orders. It wouldn’t wash with Edward though and he pursed his lips in agitation, hoping the other man would get the message that he was not welcome here. It failed because the man couldn’t even see his lips, a fact that Edward was forever forgetting. The mask covered any movement of the mouth and if he wanted to express displeasure he would have to be rather more direct.
“You really can’t just hang around here,” Edward insisted. “I have work to do and I will not be watched.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” the other man replied. “And I promise I’ll look away.” A grin touched the corners of his mouth and Edward realised he was being mocked slightly.
“What is your name?” Edward said impatiently. “I’ll take your name and as soon as he is free I’ll ask him if he will see you… but don’t expect miracles.”
“Roderick Rampton.”
Edward raised his head and looked again at the man. It couldn’t be a coincidence?
“That’s right,” Roderick nodded. “My dear old dad was the one that torched this place. Good, isn’t it?”
“You should have said,” Edward said with a smile. “I wouldn’t have been quite so unwelcoming.”
“Don’t worry about it. Now, I could murder a cup of coffee or anything stronger if you have it.”
“Oh, we’re not allowed to drink or eat here. It’s not safe. You should be wearing a mask to prevent against accidental contamination. We eat and drink in the black cavern because it’s been sealed off from the rest of the tunnels.”
“Point me in the right direction, then,” Roderick said, leaping up from his chair in ripples of red. “I’ll find my own way there.”
Now that Edward had the provenance of Roderick’s last name he wasn’t remotely concerned about letting him wander freely around the place. No doubt Lucius would be more than pleased he had made the man feel welcome. He gave quick directions and Roderick was gone almost before he had finished.
He couldn’t wait to tell Lucius he had another unusual and important visitor, no doubt he would be exceedingly pleased.
Maeve was scanning the list of ingredients that the Drooble’s Best Confectionery Company had sent her in response to her owl requesting that they divulge the recipe. She had actually had to send three owls, each one getting progressively more severe, as she tried to wrangle the secret ingredients from the very protective company. In the end she had threatened them with the combined forces of Professor Dumbledore, the Wizengamot, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and their own deaths if they did not comply. Begrudgingly they had forwarded her their secret recipe on charmed parchment that meant only she could read it. Privately Maeve thought they were being ridiculous but she agreed to their demands for utmost confidentiality.
She couldn’t believe the muck they put into it. People were giving this stuff to their kids! Barbary Bluejuice was the thing that gave it its intense colour and was a dye extracted from the skin of a baboon’s backside. Congealing Clumpther, which was taken from the leaves of a particularly pungent plant that smelt of mouldy cheese or sweaty feet depending on the season, was the thing that bound all the other ingredients together. They apparently rendered it tasteless by the addition of a clear liquid called Blandiflora, which in itself could cause your body hair to fall out. Avialeum was a manmade potion that was added to give the bubbles their exceptional flying ability… she read on in ever increasing disbelief. The only positive thing was that at least kids weren’t swallowing this rubbish.
And yet, despite all the distasteful ingredients, there was something here that could cure those poor people of their illness and she and Severus had to find it. It would be a little like trying to find a single spell in a whole library of spell books. She was becoming increasingly worried about Arthur, who was still clinging to life in St Mungo’s with the doting Molly stretching herself beyond the bounds of what was possible to keep up her work for The Order and be at his bedside. Only one other Sleeper had died and he also had had a previous illness that had weakened him, in the same way that Simeon had. She now knew that Arthur had suffered a very bad bite from some kind of serpent the previous year and she was very worried for his safety.
She was irritated, therefore, when a knock at her door interrupted her thought processes. Tapping the parchment with her wand to activate the charm and render the writing invisible she called for the visitor to come in. Her annoyance vanished when she saw the pale, tired face of Harry, who had just finished lessons for the day. A quick glance at her clock told her it was almost four in the afternoon and she had been bent over this parchment for three hours with taking a break.
“What can I do for you, Harry?” she asked.
“He’s back,” he replied in a resigned voice.
“Who’s back?” For some reason she thought of the recently departed Roderick and she waited for confirmation.
“Voldemort’s back.” Harry put a hand to his forehead and was about to touch his scar when he stopped himself. It was bad enough that it was there without him continually having to draw attention to it.
“How do you know?” she asked, her stomach churned a little at the thought that he could only be back with very good reason.
“He tried to get into my head again,” he said. “I could feel it but I managed to stop him before he settled himself in. I saw something, though, I saw a lot of fields and trees.”
“Well at least the Occlumency practice has paid off,” she responded in a half-hearted way. “Did you recognise the landscape?”
Harry shook his head. “It could have been anywhere. For all I know it was your house. I’ve never seen it.”
Maeve stood up and went to the bookshelf, pulling down a small photograph album. It contained many images of Abbeylara and it might help Harry say whether it was the Irish estate or not. He shook his head as he leafed through the pages.
“No, that looks quite green and healthy. This place looked dead, as if everything had packed up and left.”
“What makes you think he is back then? We don’t even know if he’s been anywhere. He may have just popped over to Abbeylara for a few days. There is nothing to say he had taken up residence there.”
“Why would he try and get into my mind again after all this time? Why would my scar hurt? No, I’m telling you, he’s back and he means business.”
“Have you told Professor Dumbledore about this yet?” she asked, knowing as she did so that he probably hadn’t.
“I dunno, I don’t think he’ll listen to me. He didn’t exactly involve me in much last year, did he?”
“He will have to be told Harry, this is important.”
Maeve wasn’t sure what to think about Harry’s revelation. There wasn’t much they could do even if Voldemort was close by. The best they could do was keep their eyes peeled for anything strange and watch each other at all times. She highly doubted that Voldemort would try and breach Hogwarts so at least Harry was safe. But if Voldemort was back in the country then it could be something to do with the Funestus Somnus. With a feeling of dejection she wondered if it was ready for a major launch on the population.
“Okay, Harry, thanks for telling me. Don’t worry too much about it, it could mean anything. Just make sure you don’t wander off and…”
The look he gave her silenced Maeve immediately.
“Sorry,” she grinned. “You’re not a child… you don’t need telling this… but just watch yourself, all right?”
Harry stood up to leave, not entirely reassured by her words. As he placed his hand on the door handle, the door vibrated with a firmer knock than the one he had given. He immediately pulled open the door to reveal the troubled face of Severus Snape. The worried look was immediately replaced by a scowl as Severus saw that it was Harry who had opened the door.
“Good afternoon, Potter.”
Somehow, Harry thought with resentment, he always made the word Potter sound like something that had crawled out from under a particularly large stone.
“I was just leaving,” Harry replied, pushing past the teacher without any further conversation.
“Charming little soul,” Severus observed acidly as he closed the door behind him.
“His scar’s hurting again,” she said as her new visitor sat down in the seat so recently vacated by Harry.
“Ah.” That one word, that wasn’t even a real word, conveyed a great deal to Maeve and she wasn’t entirely taken by surprise when Severus rolled up his sleeve to reveal the hideous dark mark that was burned onto his forearm. The previous night it had been very pale, almost invisible, but now it was an angry black. It screamed out at her from his flesh that something was about to happen and they were floundering around trying to guess what that would be.
“When?”
“This morning,” he replied.
“Does it hurt?”
“Of course it bloody hurts!”
“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to…”
“I know, I know,” he said with a nod of his head. “It seems Potter and I share at least something, a brand is a brand, whatever the reason it has for being there.”
She reached a hand across the table and touched his. It was a small gesture and one that quickly passed but it seemed to ease the smouldering anger in his arm and he yanked his sleeve back down over the offending limb.
“I also have these to give you,” he said, reaching into his robes. He handed her the picture that Neville had given him first and as she flipped it over she couldn’t help her heart missing several beats. He then handed her the parchment that he had bribed off Filch earlier.
As she unravelled it and read Roderick’s scrawling handwriting her eyes widened. She read it through twice before looking at Severus.
“But how did he know?” she asked.