Boris Vlaud stood looking through a gap in the heavy drapes of the window beside his father's hospital bed, watching Giselle going down the sloping lawns to the groundskeeper's hut.
She is pretty, he thought. Not for the first time he wished she were a Slytherin girl. That she was a Hufflepuff gave him some encouragement, however, since it was said that 'opposites attract.'
He closed the gap in the drapes. Yes, she was pretty and desirable, but she was also a complication.
Had Sanguino succeeded in having her abducted by Hexaba LeStrange, then Giselle might now be a beneficial addition to 'The Group,' as Boris thought of it. But fate had other plans, apparently. And how ironic that the person who foiled the abduction, who derailed Sanguino's little scheme, was the Head of Slytherin House.
But then, how understandable, too. Snape was a Voldemort supporter, a Loyalist among the Death Eaters. He did not particularly care about Lucius Malfoy. And though he showed some favoritism to Draco, that was just a ploy to keep himself within the circle of grace should Lucius gain enough followers to overthrow any attempt by the lingering spirit of Tom Riddle to resurrect itself.
Boris frowned. Evidently the belief that Snape was secretly disloyal to Riddle's memory due to the murder of Lily Potter was untrue. The source had been wrong. And yet... and yet...
How could a Snitch pea be wrong?
And hadn't Sanguino insisted that Snape harbored a keen fondness for Lily Potter's spirit, going so far as to generate a living portrait of her?
But it was true, also, wasn't it, that this Lily woman, the mother of that obnoxious show-off, did not trust Snape, and that she blamed him for the death of her husband, for her own death, and for the attempted murder of her son? She blamed Snape as much as she blamed Sirius Black, her secret-keeper who betrayed her location to Riddle. Sanguino was certain this was true. And the Snitch pea confirmed it.
There it was again, the call of the Roc! Such an unearthly cry!
"Father, did you hear that?"
Leon Vlaud shifted painfully in his bed and tried to sit up. The pain was too much. He sank back on his pillows.
"Son," he said, "tell me. Reassure me. When you are out in the sunlight, you no longer feel any discomfort?"
"None at all. It is pleasant."
"You had such a difficult summer, in so much pain. It is gone now, gone completely? But your blood thirst, it has grown stronger?"
Boris hung his head and sat in the bedside chair. "Yes," he replied. "But Sanguino was confident the other night that 'together' we can find a cure. And remember what I told you, Father, that he says we are not to trust Madame Pomfrey. She is too conventional."
Leon stared narrow-eyed at his son for a moment. Then he looked away and said, "You were not the one who bit me in my sleep?"
Boris sat up, shocked. "Father! How could you think that? It is absurd! Bite my own father? No, no, it was a villager I bit that night. I... I drained him... I drained him of every drop of his blood. I did not want to have to sneak out again the following night."
Leon sighed. "Then it must have been this Charlie Weasley fellow."
"But the Snitch pea says--"
"To hell with your Snitch peas!"
Leon grimaced in pain and let out another long sigh. "There... the bell. Your lunch hour has expired. Come back this evening."
"Yes, Father. I will read to you from the Marquis de Sade."
"Good, good."
Giselle had to pile four big cushions on the chair seat in order to rest her elbows on the table in the hut. Everything here was so much bigger than the ordinary things in ordinary rooms. And the mug that Hagrid had given her for the popberry juice was so large that she needed both hands to pick it up. It was like drinking out of a bucket.
Hagrid was tending the pumpkin patch while Giselle finished writing about the aerodynamic quality of the hickory straws on broomsticks for her Advanced Flying class. That done, she worked out the solutions for the predictive equations assigned to her in Arithmancy last week. She was surprised to see that they foretold an upswing in her love life.
Love life? "As if I have one!" she said aloud to herself.
This got her daydreaming about Charlie. She always ended up embarrassed when she let her imagination become a little too grown up.
Where was he now? With Dumbledore in the Forbidden Forest, looking for a bloodsucking, shape-changing bird-like dragon. Oh, it was just a simple little routine thing like that? She breathed a laugh that was a mix of worry and infatuation.
Poor Charlie, she thought, bothered by a starry-eyed teen girl with no sense in her head whatsoever. Hmm...
"Welcome, Gryffindors!"
Hagrid's voice boomed, startling Giselle out of her reverie. No use trying to do anymore homework, she thought. And hopping down off the chair, she took her mug with her to a window near the door; Fang following her lazily.
Hagrid stood beside an iron cage in which was coiled a large centipede with scaly purple skin and what looked like buckteeth. It would surely be several meters long when it stretched out, similar to the size of a boa constrictor.
The Gryffindors were seated in two rows on the grass, at a respectable distance from the cage. Harry and Hermione sat hip-to-hip in the front row. Neither looked very happy. Ron was in the back row next to Lavender Brown, who eyed him appraisingly.
As Hagrid spoke lovingly about the Centisnake, Giselle wondered once again why Ron was acting so aloof toward his closest friends. Could it be that he was jealous of Harry? Why? Because Hermione gave more attention to Harry? Or because Harry had been selected by the Goblet of Fire to be co-champion along with Cedric? It was incredible that Harry had been selected, and quite against the rules, but Dumbledore accepted it. Why so? Why didn't the Headmaster just say no? Was Ron jealous because Harry was treated in a special fashion by Dumbledore?
"Whoa!" grunted Hagrid as he grabbed the Centisnake just as it began to wrap itself around a screaming Gryffindor girl whose name Giselle didn't know.
In the next instant the class was looking on from the top of the slope, out of breath from their run.
"S'all right," Hagrid said, patting the scaly beast on the head and giving it an affectionate hug.
Giselle was not looking forward to her Care of Magical Creatures class.
She went back to the table. There was a nice breeze coming in from the gardens behind the hut, through the back window. Unfortunately there was something else coming in that wasn't so nice.
Giselle snatched at her wand on the table but missed.
She flung her arms around in wild abandon as she stumbled backwards over the living-room rug. She was too horrified to scream, gasping for breath as she swatted desperately at the fledgling monster that swirled around her, screeching and snapping its crimson beak in quick darting lunges at her head and neck.
She finally managed to let out a piercing cry as she swung a small length of firewood at the wing-flapping, hot-hissing avian dragonette. But a glimpse out the front window showed Hagrid chasing after the Centisnake, the class trotting along behind him with shouts of encouragement.
Giselle tossed the piece of wood at the hideous creature when it alighted on the mantle of the hearth. Running in leaping strides she threw herself on top of the table, scattering her school books and grasping her wand as she went sliding off the opposite edge to crumple on the floor amidst a flurry of parchments.
When she rolled over, a sharp-feathered wing slashed across her cheek. She gasped out a shield spell that evaporated with the awkward flourish of her wand.
The door crashed open.
"Stasis Maximus!"
Giselle lay stock still. Even the drifting papers hung suspended in the air.
Charlie Weasley rushed over to the back window and put his head out. Dumbledore appeared in the gardens.
"Did you see it?" Charlie asked him. "What was it?"
"Just a blur going off into the forest. But I've little doubt that this is the fledgling that Giselle saw in the wicker cage. It was no illusion. And it means, I'm afraid, that the Roc is hatching a brood in its lair, wherever that happens to be. Tonight, take Hagrid with you, along with any of the dragoneers who care to volunteer, and find that lair. Try the complex of caves to the northeast."
"Will do," Charlie said determinedly.
He disspelled the effect of his hex.
At once Giselle scrambled to her feet, flinging her arms around Charlie's neck. She sobbed on his chest and stood trembling against him.
He rubbed her back. "There, it's all right. Look, you've a souvenir in your hair." He pulled lose a feather from her locks.
"Class dismissed," said Professor McGonagall. "And do remember that your first quarter quiz is this coming Monday."
The Ravenclaws filed out of the classroom in their usual orderly manner, erupting into levity only when they were well down the corridor.
Snape watched them go, impassively, then with the same demeanor he entered the classroom.
He stood in the shafts of late afternoon sunlight that folded over him in patterns, waiting for McGonagall to turn from her desk where she was brushing cat hairs off the blotter.
"Severus," she said, coming toward him.
"You wished to see me, Deputy Headmistress?"
"About Mrs Dursley. Evidently she senses the presence of Lily here in the castle."
Snape arched a brow. "I find that difficult to believe."
"I'm not so sure it should be. She requested enrollment after her sister received the letter of invitation. Dumbledore was kind enough to send Petunia the written entrance exam. She failed it, but not by much. I recall that Albus and I considered having her registered as a squib. The Board nixed that idea. And now here she is, in our midst, bewildered by the magic she sees, but, even so, having a degree of second sight. Severus," McGonagall added firmly, "she believes that you have knowledge of Lily's spiritual presence here. But she's afraid to ask you about it."
"Of course she is."
McGonagall took a deep breath, her hands clasped, and said evenly, "Albus and I are aware that two years ago you met with Winderthal Hummerhorn, one of three magic artists authorized to create living portraits. You went to Lily's grave in Godric's Hollow and took some of her remains. This particular type of necromancy requires it. And an ounce of blood from someone sufficiently like the Subject. Who was the blood donor?"
Snape went to a window, turning his back to it, outlined by the glowing rays, and faced McGonagall. "Hermione Granger," he said.
"Miss Granger?" said McGonagall, surprised. "And she obliged you?"
"I used a ruse," Snape replied. "She believed it was for a purpose other than the true intention. Something concerning a health potion for a ministry official. She had no reason to doubt me."
"And her blood was efficient?"
"Yes. Like Lily, she was born to a muggle family, was sorted into Gryffindor, and, in my opinion, was equal in talent to Lily. I realize that my endeavor was unlawful. But I trust that I am of high enough value to Dumbledore so that my indiscretion is forgiven."
"Never mind that, where is the portrait?"
"In my quarters. But the Subject has been missing for over a week. I have not located her. I confess that she... that she has not reconciled herself to me."
"Severus, don't you understand that Lily will want to see her son?"
Snape turned to face the window and its view of the central courtyard.
"That isn't possible," he said.
McGonagall was silent a moment, her anger rising. In a strained calmness she said, "You have placed an Ignorantus curse on her. You have deprived her of the knowledge of her son. And in what way? Does she believe him to be dead? To be attending some other school? What does she think?"
Snape replied with just a hint of reluctance, "She thinks that Harry believes she killed her husband and attempted to kill her baby, so that she could return to me. The curse is so strong that she has no hope of changing her son's belief. Her only hope for happiness is reconciliation with me. But even such a powerful spell as I have cast upon her has not been able to change her attitude toward me. However," he added, turning to look McGonagall in the eye, "in time the spell will work its way through her stubbornness. In time... in time..."
McGonagall shook her head in a dull amazement. "Never mind that as well," she said. "You say Lily is missing. Who is responsible for that?"
"Obviously I have yet to determine the culprit."
She went up to him and glared into his dark, defensive eyes. "I don't know what good Albus sees in you, Severus. I really don't."
She turned abruptly and walked over to her desk. "That is all."
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