The bell announcing second period was still echoing through the corridors when Snape saw Professor McGonagall coming down the ornate marble stairway. He paused by the entrance to the dungeon.
"Minerva, a moment, if you will."
She seemed harried, her brows knit in that look of sterness that so unnerved the first-years.
"A moment I can spare," she replied, meeting him by the marble statue of Shin Ling the Eunuch, the first wizard to have successfully apparated without losing anymore body parts.
Snape spoke quietly, lest a student overhear his speech. "I don't harbor the least suspicion that your niece is in any way involved in this little mystery about a crazed Snitch, but the fact that she was engaged in seeking it on the two occasions it has targeted me is, at present, our one avenue of investigation. I trust you have spoken to her and that she understands the gravity of the situation?"
McGonagall smiled thinly. "Gravity is an apt term, Severus. And yes, she is quite aware of the situation. Now you'll pardon my haste, but I must have a word with Pomona--" she meant Professor Sprout-- "before my next class. Oh, and have you heard," she said in a whisper, touching his sleeve, "Sirius Black is thought to have been seen in Godric's Hollow, just the other day, by Matilda Bagshot. You know how the Aurors have been scouring the countryside looking for him ever since his escape from Azkaban."
As expected, Snape's reaction did not mask his intense dislike for the one who had tormented him all through his school days. But beyond his stiffened posture and the hard darkness of his eyes, there was nothing more to note. His grim bearing was heightened, that was all.
"Well, well," was all he said. "I will not delay you further, Professor, except to say that my examination of the Snitch revealed nothing of any evidential value."
Just then Harry and Ron came skidding around the stairway bannister, late for Potions as usual.
"No running!" said Snape in a sudden burst of anger that had McGonagall glancing back at the scene with a knowing expression. Severus would be in a foul mood for his next class.
"Five points from Gryffindor," he announced in his soft, gravelly voice.
Hufflepuffs had their classes with Gryffindors on Mondays. And so it was that Giselle witnessed the frantic arrival of Potter and Weasley just as Snape came striding into the dungeon classroom.
She affected a calm air, taking her Potions textbook from her bag, when really she was a little tense. Auntie's talk of a conspiracy against Professor Snape, and the likelihood of postponing Quidditch until the culprits were found, was depressing and frustrating.
Bea, her team mate and best friend, sat next to her, gushing about how her Matron plant in Herbology was seeding; digging tiny holes with its leaves and placing its seeds very lovingly in the soil, covering them and patting the little mounds with audible sighs. Giselle feigned interest, but really such everyday sorts of things like gardening and recipes that Bea enjoyed like a good little girl seemed almost sacrilegious to Giselle now that her world was threatening to blow up in her face.
"Turn to page eighty-nine, Part Two of Alchemical Distillations," said Professor Snape.
As Giselle turned pages she glanced around the classroom. That know-it-all thing-- was her name Hermione?-- was tapping page 89 and itching to raise her hand, probably. In front of her was Alice.
Now, Alice was the exact opposite of Hermione, Giselle thought. Alice sat there as if she were patiently waiting for a train. She never spoke up unless called upon by the teacher, and it seemed that Snape deliberately ignored her. Well, perhaps he didn't like Durmstrang transfers.
Everyone said that Durmstrang students were a bunch of Grindelwald wanna-be's. Giselle pictured them lurking in shadows like Dracula or something.
But Alice... no, she was not like that, despite her ferocious Quidditch playing. But there was nothing wrong about being excellent at Quidditch. Why, Hooch said it was Miss Minsky that gave the Hufflepuff team a real chance of winning the Cup this year. Imagine! Dumbledore was just a boy the last time Hufflepuff won the Quidditch Cup.
But... Giselle questioned whether Alice was unlike Durmstrang students. Look how she was glaring at Snape. That brief flare-up of... hate? Well, it certainly looked like she was hateful of him, for just that one second anyway.
"In an orderly manner you will acquire the needed ingredients at the supply cubboards," Snape was saying, "specifically for Exercise number two. You will then proceed to the back sinks and fill your size D cauldrons one-quarter full. And we will all appreciate it, Mr Weasley, if you would stop picking your nose."
Alice was in the habit of taking a sandwich with her out onto the grounds during the lunch hour. She went down that delightful path winding between the flower beds, past the stately elms, to where she could look up, nonchalantly, at the roof of the castle library. Today, to her excited surprise, she saw what she had been told to watch for.
A raven.
It stood cocking its head from side to side, no doubt looking for her.
Alice noted the few students who were milling about on the broad porch, chatting and flirting. The trees would hide her from their view somewhat. In any case she had to let the raven see her. She crossed a stretch of grass that was covered in autumn leaves and stood in a patch of shade, waving a hand at the raven.
It flew down and alighted on a low branch. There was a small envelope in its beak. Alice said in a sing-song voice, "Give me, give me, raven blue, all that I request of you." She snapped her fingers. "The message."
The raven dropped the envelope and immediately flew off, cawing as it passed over the oak grove by the greenhouses.
Alice picked up the envelope. Her heart pounded as she slit open the parchment.
'Be watchful of the Grim,' she read. 'Report to me if you see it. The enclosed message is for Professor Trelawney. See she gets it straightaway. It is time for her to enter the Circle.'
"Hello!"
Alice nearly jumped out of her shoes. Stuffing the paper into her skirt pocket she turned, her cheeks flushed, and saw that handsome chap who was always smiling at her in the Common Room and whenever he passed her in the corridors.
Fredrick? No, no... Cedric. That was it. Cedric Somebody. A funny kind of last name she could never remember.
Alice took a teeny bite of her ham on rye. She tried to look casually interested.
"You know, I've been wanting to kis-- I mean, wanting to meet you," Cedric said and almost laughed. "You know, meet you in a sort of-- place that was private. I gather you like a stroll at lunch? Some fresh air?"
Alice shrugged, holding her sandwich just above her shoulder. "I hear you're a good Quidditch player. Why didn't you try out for our team?"
Cedric looked embarrassed. "My grades were slipping. Father insisted I focus on my academics. But if I get my grades up, I'll try out next year. Did you play Quidditch at Durmstrang?"
"Actually, no. I took private Quidditch lessons during summer recess between my third and fourth terms."
"Oh ripping. Who was your master?"
Alice gestured vaguely with her sandwich as she thought how best to answer that. Finally she said, "You know Bruno Spassky, the Slytherin seeker?"
Cedric grinned as boys do when they sense a rival and want to make light of it. "Oh I've seen him around."
"His grandfather was on several World Cup teams. He's been instructing me."
"Oh I see. I wonder... Muggle Studies is showing a muggle film tonight, and I was wondering..." He noticed the smirk Alice gave him at the mention of muggles. "I say, there's the bell. May I walk you to our next period? It's Divination, isn't it?"
Alice looked away, smiling.
"Yes, it is," she said.
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