-CHAPTER SEVEN-
The Invitation The next days were, again, spending time avoiding professor Lockhart. The poor bloke apparently couldn’t or wouldn’t get the hint that Arielle was just not interested in talking to him. While she was worried about all the attention she seemed to be getting from the Defence professor, she didn’t want to bring it out of proportion, so she kept quiet, hoping he would give up and leave her alone.
He didn’t.
It was already October by then and Arielle was slowly growing more and more anxious. It wasn’t only Arielle that was acting anxious though. Neville was also being twitchier than it was normal for him. His dealings with his grandmother had actually grown a bit better lately, which probably had something to do with the letter Arielle had sent to her sometime last year about her treatment of him. Neville was actually happy for once when he told her of his summer. Apparently his grandmother sent him to a Herbology Camp for Young Wizards for a few weeks and he had loads of fun there, learning about magical and mundane plants and now he knew more about them than Arielle did… which was not so surprising, seeing as he was probably going to be a Herbology Master one day. However, even if Neville was happier, there was still something that made Arielle feel a bit worried. He was a bit more closed up than last year and more withdrawn than before, and that was causing Arielle to worry endlessly about him, hoping that he would turn to her when he needed to talk to someone – which he didn’t do.
Her friendship with Luna Lovegood was also on good tracks, and Arielle found it hilarious when Luna and Granger had their spats about almost everything Luna told her. She also found it hilarious that she was probably the only student in Hogwarts at the moment, who was friends with people from every house, including Slytherin. It also seemed that her circle of friends was probably going to grow a bit every year, if it went on like that. Not only did she befriend Luna Lovegood, but she became friends with Ginny Weasley, whom was introduced to her by her brothers, Fred and George. Arielle found out that Ginny was the only girl in the Weasley family for quite a few generations and that she was quite good with the Bat Bogey Hex that they studied about last year. She even got a first seat exhibition to the hex when Draco Malfoy decided to insult Ginny by calling her a ‘blood-traitor’. Malfoy ended up with his bogies flying around his face, attacking him ferociously and Fred (or was it George) had said, “Now I know that size is no guarantee of power,” which sent everyone into hysterics again.
Another funny thing happened in the meanwhile. However Arielle wasn’t there to see it. It apparently happened on the Quidditch Pitch, where Draco insulted Granger by calling her a ‘mudblood’ and Ron Weasley lost his temper and tried to send the ‘eat slugs’ hex towards him, but seeing as he was as incompetent in magic as Arielle was proficient in it, it backfired (probably because his wand wasn’t his, but that of his older brother) and instead of Malfoy belching up slugs, it was Ron that did it. Granger quickly carted him off to Hagrid, to save him from embarrassing himself further. How Granger and Weasley became friends was a mystery to Arielle, seeing as they were as different from each other as night and day, or yin and yang, or black and white. Where Granger was brilliant in her studies, Ron was as bad as a squib. She could hear them bickering from the Gryffindor table every day and could only sigh in relief that she wasn’t a Gryffindor and actually heard what they were bickering about. It was probably something completely stupid.
But let’s not get ahead of ourselves and return to the topic at hand – Gilderoy Lockhart. The man made Arielle feel very apprehensive in class with his looks and winks and suggestions. It also didn’t help her that he called her to the front and told her to re-enact a creature or beast that he defeated. More than once she had to use her inhalator after classes when she inhaled some dust from the floor or when the professor jumped on her or pinned her to the floor. But she didn’t complain, she didn’t want to be a burden on her Grandfather who was bound to dismiss the Defence professor and then were would they be without one? Sometimes though, she just wanted to walk out of the class and never return, but knew she couldn’t because Defence Against the Dark Arts was an important class, not only with Voldemort after her hide, but because of the OWLs that would come in her fifth year.
One thing bothered Arielle more than the others though. It happened on the day when Ron Weasley’s spell backfired. She was just walking towards the Charms classroom when she heard a voice that was almost whispering in her ear, it was so close. “Come… come to me… let me rip you… let me tear you… let me kill you…” It frightened Arielle so much that she ran to the Charms classroom and had to use her inhalator once she reached it, making her Uncle Filius look worriedly over her.
*
But to not just tell the story and move on, let’s stop here and continue with the real story (or at least as real as it can be…). Arielle Potter was walking down the corridors of Hogwarts, having just returned from her walk on the grounds (to escape from her Defence professor’s clutches) with mud on her shoes. Unfortunately, she didn’t know any spells to clean herself up and so was muddy and dirty as she squelched through the corridors, hoping to anyone that could hear her to not let Filch find her. Filch, the caretaker, never really liked her. She didn’t know why, and wasn’t really interested in finding out.
Just as she was about to turn the corridor she noticed that someone was standing near the windows and staring outside. When she turned to see who it was, it turned out to be the Gryffindor ghost – sir Nicholas, or as some of the ruder Gryffindors called him Nearly Headless Nick. The ghost looked surly and distressed over something and after a short inspection Arielle noticed that he was holding a translucent letter in his hands. She didn’t know what that was about and since she didn’t want the ghost to feel bad, she approached him.
“Sir Nicholas?” she said attentively as she neared the see-through figure. “Is everything alright?” The ghost turned about, looking surprised, then smiled at Arielle – she was always on good terms with the Hogwarts ghosts, if you exempt Peeves, who was a poltergeist. “Oh, it’s you, young Arielle,” sir Nicholas replied with his expression a little happier than it was a few minutes ago, before his face clouded over again. “It’s nothing, really. A matter of no importance.”
“But it must be important to you, if you look so distressed over the matter,” Arielle said smartly. Sir Nicholas just watched her for a few seconds, before throwing another look at the letter in his hand and muttering to himself, “It’s not as if I wanted to join… thought I’d apply, but apparently I ‘don’t fulfil the requirements’.” But even if he tried to speak as if it was nothing important there was a bitter look on his face. A moment later, the ghost erupted, “But even so, you would think that being hit forty-five times in the neck with a blunt axe would mean something and would qualify you to join the Headless Hunt!”
So, that’s what the matter is, Arielle thought as she watched sir Nicholas pace (well, not exactly pace, but glide through the air left and right in front of her). She kept quiet though, and good thing she did, because the irritated ghost continued his rant. She knew better than to interfere. It was better to let your qualms out than to keep them inside, was what her Papa always said to her.
“I mean, I’m sure nobody but me wishes that my beheading was quick and clean and that my head had come off properly. It would be far less embarrassing and would have saved me a lot of ridicule and pain. Moreover,…” the ghost shook his head angrily and opened the letter as he continued to read from it in a furious tone, “We can only accept huntsmen whose heads have parted company with their bodies. You will appreciate that it would be impossible otherwise for members to participate in hunt activities such as Horseback Head-Juggling and Head Polo. It is with the greatest regret therefore, that I must inform you that you do not fulfil our requirements. With very best wishes, Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore.”
The angry ghost stuffed the transparent letter back into his translucent folds of clothes as he added, “Half an inch of skin and sinew holding my neck on, Arielle! Most people would think that it’s as good as being beheaded, but oh no – it’s not enough for Sir Properly Decapitated-Podmore.”
Arielle smiled a bit as she neared the ghost and even though it was an uncomfortable feeling, put one of her hands over his as she said, “Sir Nicholas, don’t be upset about it, you’re a much better ghost than Sir Patrick could ever be. What’s so interesting about Head-Juggling anyway? Don’t you think that a ghost of such a status as Sir Patrick would only look ridiculous doing that? And what’s with the Head Polo? If you hit your own head so many times during such a game, wouldn’t that make you stupider? I mean, wouldn’t the brains feel a bit funny, being hit like that?”
It worked a bit, at least, Arielle realised when she saw Sir Nicholas’s lips twitch a bit. She knew that what she was rambling about sounded far-fetched but it was the only thing that came to her mind at the moment. She wasn’t that good with comforting people. Yet.
“And if you’re not accepted in his club, then why don’t you make your own for the ghosts that weren’t decapitated? Wouldn’t that be better – it would make everyone happier and they wouldn’t feel as left out otherwise.”
That seemed to struck the right cord in Sir Nicholas, it seemed, for his face lit up like a candle and his lips stretched in a smile that reached his eyes. “You know what, Arielle Snape?” the happy ghost said, making Arielle blush with pleasure of being called like that (not everyone knew that she changed her surname officially).
“What?” she asked feeling relieved that she didn’t make the ghost opposite her even more distressed.
“You just gave me the most brilliant idea. How can I thank you?”
“You don’t have to thank me,” Arielle hurried to say. “I just didn’t want you to look so miserable.” But it didn’t look as if Sir Nicholas heard her, of if he did, he ignored it.
“I know! Why don’t you come to my five-hundredth Deathday? It’s going to be on Halloween.”
Arielle sucked in her breath. Having a Deathday was a very important day for ghosts. On that day they celebrated the day they died and the bigger the number of the years was, the more respectable the ghosts were. “Are you sure you want me to come?” she asked, a little unsure. “Wouldn’t it be insulting for the other ghosts if a living being would be there too?”
There was a spark of respect that shone through sir Nicholas’s eyes when she said that. It also meant that Arielle did her homework properly, having read a book about the traditions of ghosts.
“I would be most honoured if you could come,” the now calm ghost replied, “I’m sure the other ghosts won’t mind – at least not after I tell them of your idea.”
Arielle blushed again and nodded, agreeing to come to his Deathday Party. Then she got another idea, but before she could speak it up, Filch’s wheezing was heard as he turned the corner and scowled at Arielle. “Filth!” was the first thing that left the old caretaker’s mouth. “Mess and muck everywhere! I’ve had enough of it, I tell you! Follow me, Potter!”
Arielle waved a gloomy goodbye to the Gryffindor ghost and followed the spitting caretaker to his office. She had never been in Filch’s office before. It was a place that most students tried very hard to avoid. There were rumours going around school that were telling that Filch had various chains and manacles inside it and looking around the windowless office now, Arielle could make the rumours true, for there really were torture devices in it. There was also a file cabinet with drawers of students that were punished. She had to put a hand over her lips to hide a grin when she saw that Fred and George had their own drawer there. She was brought back to attention when Filch grabbed a quill from a pot on his desk and pulled some parchment from his desk drawer.
“Name… Arielle Potter. Crime…”
“Hey,” Arielle spoke up and had to step a bit back when the caretaker venomously put his eyes on her. But then she brought her chin a bit higher as she said, “It was just a bit of mud. That’s no crime in my book.”
The moment the words left her mouth she knew she had done a big mistake. If she didn’t know it, she would have guessed it from the caretaker’s expression. His eyes bulged out from his sockets and his lips moved until he was snarling at her. There was even spit flying from his mouth as he screeched at her, “Just a bit of mud! I’ll give you just a bit of mud you insolent brat of a girl! It’s an extra hour of scrubbing to me!”
Turning back to the parchment on the table, Argus Filch started scribbling angrily, while muttering to himself, “Crime… befouling the castle… Suggested sentence…” There was a bit of snot hanging from Filch’s nose and he dabbed at it with a dirty handkerchief making Arielle grimace in disgust.
“Can’t you just spell it away?” Arielle asked, knowing that she was a bit too insolent, but at that moment she didn’t give a Knut about it. Filch stared at her, then moved so quickly that Arielle didn’t see him until it was too late. Suddenly, Filch’s gnarly hands were around her neck, squeezing it hard, making Arielle see starts and start wheezing. Trying to move back a couple of steps, she hit her head in one of the bookcases that were positioned near the entrance to the office. Just as she thought that Filch would really kill her, there was a large BANG! on the ceiling of the office, making Filch drop his hands off Arielle’s neck and storming out of the office with an enraged yell of Peeves’s name. However, Arielle didn’t see nor hear it, for she crumpled on the floor, holding her hands over her throat, trying to get as much air in her lungs as possible. It was kind of working, until the Asthma attack begun. Arielle would shout out her annoyance with it, if she could breathe. Fumbling for her inhalator, she accidentally knocked it out of her sweaty hands and it rolled under Filch’s desk, making it almost impossible to reach it in time to get the medicine in her lungs. There was a dangerous wheezing sound that was getting louder, her feet suddenly felt cold and her chest started to burn. Just as her vision went from blurry to black, something glided into the office.
“Arielle, did it work?” she heard before she blacked out.
*
It was a very annoyed Severus Snape that looked up when the Slytherin ghost glided into his classroom through the doors. He was in the middle of the Gryffindor/Slytherin fourth year class and the lesson was steadily going downhill. It wasn’t only that what was making Severus so anxious lately… well, more anxious than usual anyway. Something just wasn’t right this year and he hoped there won’t be a repeat performance of last year’s escapades, but from what he’d seen so far, it was doomed to be just that. First there was Dobby, Lucius Malfoy’s house-elf appearing at his home, then it was that prick Gilderoy Lockhart who manhandled his daughter in the Flourish and Blott’s, then there was Arielle’s bastard of an uncle, the locked barrier at King’s Cross, preparing himself and Arielle for the Trial of the Dursleys which was to take place just before the Christmas holidays, the times the bond between Arielle and him was making him aware that Arielle was hurting somewhat, making him worry even more, seeing as it was almost always just after the Defence Against the Dark Arts class. He had asked Arielle what was going on many a time, but always received the same answer, that ‘nothing was wrong’. How could there be nothing wrong? He had seen the looks that egotistical moron was giving his daughter and it was bad news to him.
“Professor Snape, please excuse me for interrupting your class,” interrupted him the ghost’s voice from his musings and he scowled at the Bloody Baron, quietly asking him to get on with it and just tell him what he wanted so that he continue his class in peace.
“Yes, what is it?” he finally prompted when there was no forthcoming from the Slytherin ghost. The Bloody Baron looked a bit uncomfortable as he glided closer to Severus and it was all the former could do to not step back when the uncomfortable cold feeling washed over him when the ghost closed the distance between them and whispered something in his ear. It wasn’t the cold air that was breathing in his ears that made him go pale. It was the news that he received.
“Professor, the Headmaster asked me to inform you that he needs you in the Hospital Wing at once. It seems that Sir Nicholas found young Arielle in Filch’s office, all blue in the face and unconscious.”
It was all Severus could do to not bolt to the Hospital Wing at that moment. Instead, he took a deep breath and turned his attention to his students who were watching the interaction with interest. “What are you staring at?” he barked at them with a sneer on his face. “The lesson is over, for homework I want you to write me six feet of parchment on common antidotes.” There was a brief pause in the classroom, and only his bellow of, “What are you waiting for? Get out of my classroom!” made them hurry in putting their books and other utensils in their bags, and in the case of Fred and George Weasley to quickly hide something that they were working on during class. Severus would have inquired as to what exactly the two dunderheads were doing, but at the moment he didn’t care. He cared only about getting to the Hospital Wing to find out what happened to Arielle.
Cursing himself as he quickly walked through the corridors he wondered why he didn’t feel that something was wrong. He cursed himself even more when he remembered that he was Occluding his mind during the classroom so that he wouldn’t erupt and take points left and right. Okay, so he did take points left and right, but he didn’t kill anyone. That counted for something, didn’t it? Shaking his head and snarling at a passing Ravenclaw, he quickened his footsteps and was almost running by now.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Filch's first mistake
The Invitation