(epilogue) The Girl Who Hated Severus Snape

The days passed.

The students had not been told, but all of them knew, that Alice and Felix had been sent to the Ministry of Magic's Department of Magical Maladies for treatment. In the case of Alice Minsky, her therapy was the counselling and gentle interrogation by the Ministry's representative from the German wizarding communities.

No one at the Ministry, aside from Arthur Weasley, wanted to hear anything about a possible return of Voldemort, and to this end the respective committees threw their energy at pursuing the rumors about a Grindelwald Society.

Cedric had managed to talk his father into letting him try out for the open beater position. This helped him with his depression over Alice's absence. There was no lack of girls hoping to take Alice's place, but poor Cedric seemed unconscious of their flirtatious overtures.

Even Giselle thought to put her best foot forward. She felt a thrill of hopefulness every time Cedric whacked a bludger at her during practice sessions.

The only cloud marring Giselle's otherwise sunny disposition was the undeniable feeling that the dementors were becoming more than just a distant presence. Especially at night, with the strict curfew keeping everyone indoors, there came that feeling of an approaching darkness. Auntie, who was not normally one to gossip, occasionally mentioned to her niece that Harry Potter was involved in some way with the to-do about the fugitive Sirius Black, and that Albus seemed to be giving him a free hand.

But Giselle tried to put all this aside. She had developed a keen interest in the astrological aspects of her Astronomy class. She couldn't say why, except that it was something she overheard Draco mentioning to his Slytherin girlfriend, something about a very rare and terribly significant conjunction of planets that had occurred on his birthday. It made him smug to talk about it.

Then there was Bea's enthusiasm for Herbology that was beginning to rub off on Giselle. And so the weeks passed. The Pre-Christmas Quidditch tournament was won by Gryffindor, to the heartbreaking disappointment of Deidre.

Giselle spent the Christmas recess at Auntie's vacation cottage in Ottery St. Catchpole. She found herself attracted all of a sudden to Charlie Weasley when Arthur and Molly brought the whole brood over to Auntie's for Christmas Eve. But, really, Charlie was too much her senior. Not good at all to pine for someone beyond one's reach, she thought.

But then, why not? Santa could make anything happen.

(6) The Girl Who Hated Severus Snape

Snape's first coherent thought was to realize he was on a bed in the hospital wing.

Faces came into focus. Nearest him was Dumbledore. Across from the Headmaster stood Remus Lupin. Past the foot of the bed the figures were somewhat hazy, but gradually he recognized Pomona Sprout, and, standing next to her, the students Diggory, Minerva's niece, and one who roused his consciousness more than the others: Alice Minsky.

Slowly, due to the pain it caused him, Snape turned his head, looking for the boy, Felix Franklin, who had transformed into a vicious lupine creature. He saw the partition that afforded him some privacy and a vague view of the beds across the center aisle, but no sign of the attacker.

"You understand, Severus, that you must re-live the event in your mind in order for the healing potion to take full effect," said the gentle voice of Dumbledore.

Snape nodded. He could not speak. There was a breathing tube in his badly mangled neck. He noted the empty goblet Lupin was holding, and he remembered the agony of swallowing the potion, the sharp spasms of pain he experienced with each swallow. He was aware that the initial effects of the potion had dulled his pain to a level that was bearable, and that his memory of the event was beginning to shift his mental perspective from the present to the recent past.

Then suddenly it enveloped him totally. He had just paid a student vendor three knuts for a cup of mulled wine, and was turning his attention to the game. His house team had scored with the quaffle on three occasions, frustrating the Hufflepuff keeper. Her team executed their flights down field with excellent discipline, though their attempts to score had resulted in blocked shots and several interceptions. But it was obvious that Giselle McGonagall was superior to Draco in the seeker position. The arrival of the Snitch boded ill for the Slytherins.

Snape was only dimly aware that his memory was not all one piece, but was a patchquilt of thoughts and emotions from others besides himself. Yet in the re-living of this terrible event he accepted these sudden shifts of perspectives quite as a matter of course.

~~ Giselle's going to ruin it all, Alice thought, and with a vicious swing of her beater's bat she sent the bludger at her own seeker.

~~ Felix lost control of his broom in a moment of dizziness. He bounced off a Slytherin chaser and spun in a wobbly circle, his arms and legs going numb, his mind frozen in a fear that brought up thoughts of crawling and barking, of his mother's shrieks of despair.

~~ Giselle was in a state of denial. She angled down on her Meteor with such velocity that in seconds she had passed the hideous thing on the Shooting Star. She could not bear to think what had happened to Felix, if indeed this snarling beast of prey was him; yes, a thing on the hunt. She knew it instinctively. But to keep her sanity she must just go for the Snitch. She tried to think of nothing else. She strove with every ounce of will to catch up to it. She hadn't more than half a moment to reach the Snitch before it would be lost among the bleachers.

~~ Lupin, seated two rows up from Snape, was the first to understand the awful import of the Hufflepuff beater's uncontrollable antics. In the next instant he was certain of it. He stood and with his willow wand he conjured that which he himself could hardly bear to see: the matriarch of the woodland nymphs, a pale skeletal figure gowned in poison ivy and belladonna. The illusion grew in intensity and size as the airborne werewolf rushed ever closer to the faculty box. At sight of it the mutant beater howled in a mix of terror and defensive anger, but did not swerve from his target. The illusion vanished as its intended victim tore through it.

~~ It's done! thought Alice, exultant, her heart pounding with the sweetest wrath. She swept down to the far end of the pitch as horrified spectators gasped and screamed. Landing next to one of the easement ways, she stood trembling, gazing back at the swirl of splinters caused by the force of Felix's impact with the faculty box, the frantic movement of teachers, the figure of Dumbledore waving his wand at the slumping form of Snape, and that nuisance Giselle rolling over on the icy grass with a red dripping Snitch in her upraised hand. How wonderful to have destroyed the hated Snape and won the match in the same stroke!

~~ "Filius, your assistance," said Dumbledore, "conjure stretchers for Severus and Mr Franklin. Send for Madam Pomfrey. Pomona, we shall need supplies from Greenhouse number two. Consult Remus on that. Minerva, have Madam Hooch detain the Hufflepuff team members."

~~ Sprout could not apparate on the school grounds, but she could do the next best thing. She charmed her feet to carry her at great speed to the greenhouses. She entered number two like a blast of wind.

At once Sprout saw that something was amiss. The worktable near the carnivorous plants had been disturbed. The Maltese licorice plants were missing; removed from their clay pots. This puzzled her, for she could not think why anyone would chose to steal these rare specimens when more functional plants were available. Maltese licorice had very limited uses, primarily as an antidote for the consumption of contradictory mixtures, such as catnip and dogwort, glad-diola and weeping willow.

But there was no time to ponder this little mystery. Sprout snatched up the ingredients Lupin had listed for her and then went off like a roadrunner, back to the scene of the tragedy.

Giselle watched Snape's eyelids twitch. He moaned, shifting his legs under the quilt. He was coming out of the healing trance. Pomfrey had removed the now unnecessary breathing tube and was unwrapping the bloodied cloth bandages. The wounds were nearly gone.

Giselle looked past the half-folded partition and reassured herself that Felix, asleep on his side in a nearby bed, was normal again. At the footboard Auntie was whispering to Professor Trelawney, who had a mortified look on her thin angular face.

Dumbledore had the Snitch in one of those small gift bags that patients are given. Giselle had gathered from his comments to Lupin that Felix, in his wolf form, was led by the Snitch as if he had been chained to it. She recalled getting hold of it just as that bizarre image of a goddess pointed its gnarled stick at the werewolf. This had so startled Giselle that she screamed with eyes closed and threw herself down and to her right, her broom losing its aerodynamic energy. She couldn't remember coming to ground, just the cold feel of the grass.

She felt Alice's agitation. It wasn't like the girl next to her was afraid of what punishments might come her way, but rather it was like she was angry at having to explain herself, either truthfully or otherwise. Dumbledore had questioned her briefly on the walk to the Infirmary room, her and Cedric, who had accompanied her when Madam Hooch's detaining spell was gathering the team together amidst the general hubbub of the dispersing crowds. Now she stood there unresponsive to Cedric's shy caresses. Her face was a mask of stubbornness.

"Were it not for Miss McGonagall catching the Snitch," said Dumbledore to the room at large, "the flying wolf would have followed the Snitch straight to Professor Snape with a result even more grievous than what we witnessed. As it was, Giselle caught the Snitch after it had struck Severus and was about to strike again. Had she missed it, I fear the Snitch would have been in the fanged jaws of the werewolf and led it directly at Severus' head... or his heart."

All it took was the Headmaster's inquiring look at Alice for the girl to begin her defense. "I had no choice," she was saying in an exasperated voice, glancing around at the teachers. "The assistant school master of Durmstrang is, according to rumor anyway, a devotee of You-Know-Who. He and Granpapa Igor made it clear to me that I must co-operate with an escapee of Azkaban for the liquidation of Professor Snape. And I will tell you why," she added, her face red with a suppressed fury, glaring at Snape. "That man there, that contemptible egoist, murdered my father!"

Everyone was surprised by this except Dumbledore. He was merely intrigued. He looked somberly at Snape, who was staring at Alice with what appeared to be only a mild interest. This angered the girl even more.

"I see you can't deny it," she said, as Cedric stepped back from her, dazed by her comportment.

"Have you had contact with Sirius Black?" the Headmaster asked her.

"No! I've no idea where he is hiding. He sends a raven when he wants to contact me."

"Were you aware of Felix Franklin's shape-changing propensity?"

Alice was silent a moment. Her face paled slightly. Giselle could feel the girl struggling to calm herself, to think in the crafty manner her Durmstrang education had taught her.

"I suspected as much," Alice said with a devious smile. "I tell you I had no choice but to obey my superiors. The raven brought me a message and some sprigs of a plant which Felix was to chew this morning before our match with Slytherin."

Dumbledore raised his brows. "And the boy obliged you?"

"I..." Alice made a helpless gesture. "What could I do but cast an enducement hex on him?"

"Ah. I see. A mild form of the imperius curse. And do you realize that the unauthorized use of such a hex may get you a year's confinement in the juvenile detention center on the Isle of Azkaban?"

Alice flared up again. "Must I repeat myself over and over again? Had I disobeyed them, the Grendelwald Society enforcers would have--" She gasped, a hand to her mouth.

Giselle sensed that a secret had been inadvertantly revealed. Dumbledore smiled and said, "Don't worry yourself over that. I have some small knowledge of this dark society. And I understand why you would harbor a strong dislike for Professor Snape, though you ought to consider that your father, Gunther Minsky, had put Severus Snape in the same predicament that your superiors have put you; a case of having to act in self defense."

Alice glowered at him. Giselle could see that the girl was not the least mollified by Dumbledore's comment.

"A last question," the Headmaster said, raising the gift bag. "How was the Snitch ensorcelled?"

Alice forced a laugh. "Oh, that is very simple. It is a Snitch from Durmstrang. Our Snitches are much more challenging than your timid ones. The raven brought it to me. It was crafted so as to respond to my influence. But don't blame me for that," she amended with a cold, defensive look at the attentive teachers.

"Yes, we know," drawled Dumbledore. "And now let us leave the patients to their rest."

[Next: the epilogue.]

(5) The Girl Who Hated Severus Snape

The two teams faced each other in the center of the pitch as Madam Hooch came flying toward them low to the ground, holding out the quaffle.

In the tense moments before she tossed upward the enlivened ball, Dumbledore leaned closer to Snape in the faculty box and said, "I had a revealing chat with the Sorting Hat this morning. I would've liked you to be there, but you were nowhere to be found."

Snape was prepared for the implied question. "A leisurely walk to Hogsmeade for a supply of bezeors," he said in a casual tone, "and to check on the placement of the dementors. They are unexpectedly docile for their kind."

This part of the answer was true enough. Dumbledore seemed pleased. "A convenient little enchantment of mine keeps the dementors unnaturally sociable, until such time that their darker nature may be needed. Cornelius knows nothing of this, and we'll want to keep it that way, Severus. An effective spell on dementors is not supposed to be possible, barring the patronus."

Snape nodded. "And what, pray tell, did the Sorting Hat have to say? I assume this is in reference to the placement of Miss Minsky into Hufflepuff house?"

"Exactly. And the Hat's confession was a revelation, to be sure. It explained that the dormitory to which Alice Minsky was assigned at Durmstrang is symbolized by a beaver gnawing on a tree. The Sorting Hat saw this as very close to a badger, the Hufflepuff symbol. But even so, it would have sorted her into Slytherin but for a curious concept that Alice was expressing at the back of her mind during her stay on the sorting stool."

A roar from the crowd as the quaffle rose up and the teams took flight. Snape waited for the volume of noise to diminish before saying, "And--?"

"What it saw was Alice performing curtsies for Professor Sprout, who, as you know, is the Hufflepuff head of house. But that wasn't all."

They were distracted by the loud "oohs" and "ahhs" from bleachers above them as the keeper, Deidre, zipped sideways on her Nimbus-- a quite difficult manuever-- and blocked the thrown quaffle with a knee. Bea caught it on the rebound and off went the Hufflepuff chasers; Cassandra and Roscoe circling Bea with a synchronized swiftness that had the Slytherin chasers darting about them like a disturbed hornets nest.

"And--?" said Snape impatiently.

Dumbledore assumed a thoughtful expression. "Alice was exuding a feeling of studious contentment, a desire for a peaceful orderliness, a trait we associate with the Hufflepuff student. Now, either she is honestly wanting to be this pleasant sort of hardworking scholar, or she was deliberately misrepresenting herself to the Sorting Hat."

Snape caught the action at the far end of the pitch and gave a snide smile as Slytherin took possession of the quaffle after a bad handoff by Roscoe. He then looked questioningly at Dumbledore. "Assuming the latter is true," he began, "that she intentionally misled the Sorting Hat, one must wonder why she chose a house so unlike her authentic personality. One thinks of your spellbound dementors acting like a welcoming society."

"Oh I wouldn't go so far as to-- good throw, that! Right through the center hoop. No, I wouldn't compare Alice's deceit to that of an enchanted dementor. I'm inclined to believe that she chose Hufflepuff so as to stand out within a rather unglamorous crowd."

Snape frowned. "You believe it's as innocent as that?"

"Then give me a reason to believe otherwise, Severus."

Snape pretended to watch a furious chase for the free-falling quaffle so as to ponder his answer. He feared that Dumbledore had set a trap for him.

Did the Headmaster have a clue about the death of Alice Minsky's father? Did he suspect that Miss Minsky had arranged the transfer with, perhaps, her well-known grandfather, Igor Spassky, for the purpose of exacting a form of revenge against her father's killer? Or could it be that the clue hung in Alice's mind, not Dumbledore's, and that she was here to learn the whole truth about Gunther Minsky's demise? Did she know her father was a Death Eater, and a very ambitious one at that?

There was a midair collision that sent Alice, Felix, Cassandra, and two Slytherin players tumbling to the sand pit near the goals. "Penalty Slytherin!" shouted Hooch. The flick of her wand took five points off the green side of the scoreboard.

Snape looked disgruntled, but it wasn't the foul that made him so. "I have only speculations stemming from a growing conviction," he said, "that Alice Minsky is to some degree a menace to me."

Dumbledore raised his brows. "A fifteen-year-old taking third-form courses is a menace to you? What makes you assign such a motive, and such a dangerous skill-level, to this young girl?"

"This young witch," Snape corrected him, "from a dark arts academy known to have engendered more Voldemort enthusiasts than all the other magic schools put together."

"Are you circuitously indicating the mysterious death of her father?"

Snape stiffened. He was oblivious to a second Slytherin score and the eruption of cheers amid waving green scarves.

"I knew Gunther Spassky," he said with a forced calmness, "before the death of James and... Lily... Potter on that terrible Halloween night. It was my despair over Lily's death and the knowledge that Gunther was involved in planning the murders that turned me against him... and against the Dark Lord."

He looked away, seeing nothing of the streak of gold arching up into the clearing sky. His stern features told Dumbledore that the potion master wished to say nothing more about the subject.

On the advice of her second cousin, Joey O'Shannon, back-up seeker for the Chudley Cannons, Giselle flew in broad figure-8's about two hundred meters above the pitch. She rode "like a feather," as it was called, so as to be ready at a moment's notice to accelerate in any direction.

As she had expected, Draco followed her a short ways behind. She could hear him snickering and making cat-calls at her. It was therefore doubly pleasing when one of Alice's bludgers sent a Slytherin chaser careening in a steep descent that had him knocking his own beater so hard that the bat was dropped. Even better, the bat fell toward the Slytherin stands, causing a panic among the green-scarvers. Too bad Hooch was there with her wand to arrest the bat's fall just in time to prevent a sore head or a broken nose.

Giselle was surprised at herself. How could she think such a thing? Had she been hoping for an injury among the Slytherin fans?

The flash of gold ended her self-recrimination in a heartbeat. She was off like a bullet; Draco's shout fading away in the rush of her flight and the rumble of the crowd.

Giselle swept under a high-flying bludger that angled down after her, until one of Alice's slammed into it. There was that moment of blurred figures swerving out of Giselle's way, then the panorama of bleacher towers with snow-capped mountains beyond. The Snitch ceased being a streak and became a winged orb that seemed to be taunting her, as if saying, 'Catch me if you can!'

Giselle tried a subterfuge. She looped away from the Snitch.

Out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed Draco looking momentarily confused. Likewise the Snitch seemed to wonder at the odd behavior, hesitating before flitting off toward the Gryffindor stands. That was all the time Giselle needed.

With a burst of speed she brushed past Draco, and, stretching out a hand to grasp the blur of tiny wings, flinched in pain as a bludger struck her extended arm.

She went spinning like a maple leaf.

From below she heard the shrill voice of Bea saying, "Alice! What the --!" And that emotionless reply: "Sorry."

Giselle leveled out just inches above the canvas roof of the Gryffindor bleachers, her feet dragging along a wooden beam as she flew out toward the open air where she had the biggest fright of her life. The snarling face of a wolf passed by her, the uniform cape flapping behind the misshapen body that dove downward on its Shooting Star Deluxe 7.

Impulsively she followed, despite her scare and astonishment.

The glitter of the Snitch was out ahead of the monstrous stranger on the swift broom, and in a flash of terrible insight Giselle knew what this nightmare was leading to.

It happened in a chaos of screams, shouted spells, the blurring of spectators and a splintering of wood.

Only one thing about the disaster stood out in her mind when Giselle regained consciousness on the grassy sideline of the pitch. She had caught the Snitch, and it was covered in blood.