Chapter 8: My Shining Hour
Blast that contemptible man! Clancy huffed, as she ascended from the depths of the devil's lair back into the light of reason. He has the audacity to call ME low? He's the one who lives in the dungeons! And, why does he always wear black? Is he afraid we'll forget he's mysterious and evil? I have an excuse for being edgy today -- PMS. What's his excuse? He's in a foul, dark mood everyday!
Professor Dumbledore was alone in the staff room when Clancy walked in. Robes lifted up above his ankles, he was dancing a little jig.
"I'm glad to see you're feeling better, Albus," Clancy said.
"Yes, well, aches and pains come and go," he replied brightly, still dancing. "My health has always been unpredictable."
"Why did you send me down there with that ridiculous book?"
"I'm anxious for you and Severus to become friends. That's what you want, isn't it?" Dumbledore ended his dance, and regarded Clancy seriously. One look at her face told him things had not gone well. "Was it as bad as all that?"
"It was horrible. He told me I was low, he tried to poison me, and he smashed a jar of eels at my feet."
"Well, I'm glad I sent you to him on one of his better days. Things could have gone much worse. You didn't say anything to provoke him, did you?" Dumbledore inquired.
"No. I merely suggested he might try reading glasses." Then, attempting to be completely honest, Clancy added, "I may have made one or two regrettable remarks -- but purely in self defense."
Dumbledore laughed heartily. "Perhaps it would be best to ease off for a bit. Meddling is a deplorable habit, and I plead guilty. I do plan to have a talk with Severus, however."
"No, please don't," Clancy begged. "He'll despise me all the more. The thing is, I still don't know what I've done to make him hate me."
"Think for a moment: Your Aunt Hillary was the first real emotional connection that he made. What ended their relationship? It was her marriage to your uncle -- an American, Muggle musician. Then, you come along -- an American, Muggle musician. Why should Severus like you?" Dumbledore asked. "He has a powerful reason for distrust."
"Yes. That does make sense," Clancy agreed. "But he told me I'd be wise to be afraid of him. Should I be?"
"Not in the least. He merely likes to be intimidating. And what, may I ask, was your response when he said that?"
"I told him I was afraid of him, but not in the way he wanted me to be. Please don't ask me what I meant by that, because I really don't know."
Dumbledore convulsed with laughter, and removed his spectacles to wipe his eyes. "You two certainly are a pair. I think it would be advisable, for now, to focus on your teaching and let matters take their course. You have my word as a wizard and a gentleman that I will not interfere again."
Clancy was greatly relieved to hear Dumbledore's promise, although she noted he had one hand hidden behind his back at the time.
The autumn months flew by as Clancy absorbed herself with choir activities in preparation for the Yule Concert. The students were a delight to work with, especially Eloise Midgen, whom Clancy particularly enjoyed.
Clancy had brought Aunt Hilly's baton along with her for good luck, and had adopted the habit of using it to conduct both choirs. A baton at a California middle school would have seemed pretentious, but at a grand castle such as Hogwarts, it fit right in.
She saw very little of Snape, and preferred it that way. For meals at the High Table, she always chose a seat at the opposite end from wherever he was seated. If she arrived first, Snape followed suit.
Clancy occupied her days by observing classes whenever time allowed. One session with Professor Binns was quite enough. His lecture was so dull, that the novelty of being taught by a ghost soon wore off. She occasionally dropped in on Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration classes, but her favorites were Herbology with Professor Sprout and Charms with Professor Flitwick. Naturally, due to her strained relationship with Snape, Clancy avoided Potions altogether. She steered clear of Defense Against the Dark Arts, as well. The subject frightened her, and she had strong reservations about Gilderoy Lockhart: He was much too charming, and much too shallow.
Professor Flitwick dropped by the choir room often to visit with Clancy. The little wizard seemed to take an avuncular interest in the young woman. She invited him to watch the choirs rehearse one evening, and he was favorably impressed. Afterward, he stayed for a chat.
"When did you acquire that?" Flitwick asked, pointing to Clancy's baton.
"This old conductor's baton? It belonged to my aunt. I brought it along as a keepsake -- and for good luck."
"This isn't a conductor's baton, Clancy," Flitwick told her, as she handed it to him to examine. "This is a wand."
Clancy reflected for a moment on what Flitwick had just said. Everything made sense now. Those confusing memories of her childhood at last seemed clear.
"Your aunt was a witch?"
"Yes, she was. I only learned of it after her death, however. She left this baton, I mean wand, for me in a hatbox, of all places."
"I see." Flitwick rubbed his chin and continued, "You enjoy auditing my classes, don't you?"
"Oh yes, very much so. Charms fascinate me."
"You may want to bring your wand along next time, just as an experiment. Wands don't work as well for others as they do for their original owners, but since your aunt left it to you, perhaps it was her intention that you use it -- for more than just conducting, I mean."
"It might be fun to try. I think I will, Filius," Clancy said eagerly.
"Your aunt was not a blood relation, though, from what I understand, so don't build your hopes up too high. And you're beginning a bit later than most. Magic is easier to learn when one is younger, so I'm making no guarantees," Flitwick cautioned. "We'll just have to wait and see what happens."
"Even learning the simplest charm would do," Clancy sighed. "I sometimes feel so inferior and unaccomplished compared to everyone else around here."
"You needn't," Flitwick said. "Hogwarts accepts all kinds. Take me, for example."
Clancy waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't. She'd often wondered if Professor Flitwick might be something other than completely human, but she'd always been too polite to ask.
As the Christmas holiday drew closer, Professor Dumbledore summoned Snape to his office. "Have a seat, Severus," Dumbledore invited, motioning him to a chair. "I want to speak with you regarding Miss Norgard."
"What has she to do with me?" Snape asked defensively.
"That's entirely the point I wish to make. As headmaster, one of my duties is to ensure that all members of my staff get along well together. If I detect a problem, I must address it."
"I see no problem. She chooses to ignore me, so I --"
"From all that I have observed, the avoidance is mutual. I want to share with you something about Miss Norgard that I don't believe you know. I invited her here because she was unhappy and needed a change. Her aunt passed away, and she has no other family. Her aunt and she were extremely close, and she took the death very hard."
"Aunts!" Snape scoffed contemptuously. "Useless relations."
"Not everyone shares your sentiments, Severus. Her aunt was a very dear friend of mine."
"Forgive me, Albus. What is it, precisely, you wish me to do?"
"The Yule Concert is tomorrow night. I will expect you to attend, of course."
Snape's face fell.
"It would be a polite gesture if you were to drop by the choir room afterwards and compliment Miss Norgard on the performance. You might even find another way to compliment her, as well."
"I never indulge in empty flattery," Snape grumbled.
Dumbledore gave Snape a stern, paternal look over the top of his spectacles.
"That's not what I'm suggesting. Just make the effort, Severus. That's all I'm asking of you."
"Yes, Headmaster. I'll ... try."
The Yule Concert was a success. Both choirs sang exceedingly well, performing a mixture of Wizarding and Muggle holiday standards. Much to Clancy's disappointment, Eloise Midgen had refused to sing a solo. Due to her complexion troubles, which had grown even worse, Eloise chose to hide in the back row.
Elated from the evening's excitement, Clancy returned to her classroom to reflect upon her first taste of glory. Seated at her desk, she looked up in surprise as Professor Snape walked in. He crossed the room while Clancy steeled herself for a verbal assault.
"I wish to congratulate you," Snape began. "You're obviously a better teacher than --"
"Than I am a singer?" she challenged, still stung by the bitter memory of their first meeting.
"Than I thought a Muggle could be. The performance was entertaining, and your students seem quite devoted to you," Snape choked out.
"Thank you," Clancy replied, softening slightly.
Snape paused for a long moment, searching for more to say. "Good night, then," he said, at last. "I have some work I need to --"
"Ah! Professor Snape! There you are!" Gilderoy Lockhart called, strutting gaily into the room to join them. "Lovely concert, by the way, Miss Norgard," he said, flashing his white teeth as he acknowledged Clancy.
"You wish to see me?" Snape asked Lockhart.
"I just finished conferring with Professor Dumbledore. He told me you'd be delighted to serve as my assistant tomorrow night at my Dueling Club." Lockhart smirked and raised a hand to smooth his hair.
"Did he, indeed?" Snape said through clenched teeth.
"Yes. Eight o'clock in the Great Hall. Please be on time. You'll come, won't you, Miss Norgard?" Lockhart asked, as he continued preening. Without waiting for her response, he strode over to the piano. "I used to play a bit. Do you mind?"
"Not at all. Go right ahead."
He began to play, quite clumsily, a lighthearted, monotonous tune.
Clancy noticed a muscle near Snape's jaw throbbing. There was a murderous look in his eyes. "I've never seen a real sword duel before," she said, trying to break the tension. "Will you be wearing plumed hats?"
"It's wizard dueling, Miss Norgard, done with wands," Snape explained, annoyed by her ignorance. "And, no, I do not intend to don a plumed hat. As for that popinjay," he muttered, casting a withering glance at Lockhart, "a plumed hat may very well be a staple of his wardrobe."
Clancy smiled. Lockhart played on, revelling in the pleasure of his own company.
The musical interlude was wearing on Snape's nerves. "I really must be going," he told Clancy. He regarded her for a moment, then added, "The color of your hair is rather attractive by candlelight."
"Oh! Do you really like it?" Lockhart gushed, assuming the compliment was meant for him. "I'm developing my own line of hair care products. Did I tell you?"
"Yes, I believe you've mentioned it," Clancy confirmed, "several dozen times."
"Ah, music!" Lockhart rhapsodized, still struggling to play the same simple melody. "Music hath charms to soothe --"
"The savage Cornish pixie?" Snape interjected smoothly.
Lockhart stopped playing and froze. "You haven't seen any flying about anywhere, have you?" He gulped, then gave a nervous shudder. "I though they'd all been captured."
"It would seem so, but one can never be too sure," Snape answered.
"Well, I think I'd best be running along," Lockhart said, edging toward the door. "If you should see any pixies, Professor Snape, you'll know what to do with them, won't you?"
"I believe a few ideas might occur to me."
Clancy laughed as Lockhart made his exit. "You're very clever, Professor Snape. I can appreciate your wit when it's not directed against me. Good luck, tomorrow. I'll be rooting for you."
"I promise not to disappoint," he said, with a faint glimmer of a smile.