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Old April 26th, 2013, 2:27 pm
Professor Dumbledore
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Re: Challenge Ten: DADA Class entries

Entry Four

With a loud crack, a house elf Apparated right in front of me. I jumped at the noise and his sudden appearance, spilling a bit of hot chocolate from my mug down the front of my robe. He was an older elf with white hair growing out of his large, batlike ears. He was dressed in a white towel and had a golden locket about his neck.

“The Headmistress wishes to see you,” the old elf croaked. I set my mug down on the workbench and looked up at the portrait of Professor Dumbledore. It was empty.

“Headmistress?” I said, confused. The elf muttered something to himself and grabbed hold of my arm. After a nauseating moment feeling like I had been squeezed through a rubber tube, my vision cleared and I was suddenly in what appeared to be the headmaster’s office. It took a moment for the room to stop spinning. A large portrait of Albus Dumbledore hung on the wall and seemed to be addressing several people standing in front of a wide desk.

“ . . . and I assure you, Minerva, that things would have been much, much worse . . . ah, here is Kreacher. He was assisting Severus in this endeavor . . .”

Professor McGonagall turned and eyed both me and the house elf. “Kreacher, did you help Headmaster Snape protect the students here at Hogwarts?” The old elf bowed in her direction.

“Yes, Headmistress. Headmaster Snape called Kreacher back to Hogwarts the day Master Harry left for the Ministry of Magic and didn’t come back. Each day the headmaster gave Kreacher a healing potion to put into the evening pumpkin juice to help protect the students from harm. The headmaster was upset that Master Harry left Kreacher at Grimmauld Place.” A thin boy, with unruly black hair and glasses that framed bright green eyes, cleared his throat.

“I can just bet he was upset with me,” he said. My eyes widened as I saw the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. This must be the Harry Potter that everyone at school had been talking about ever since I boarded the Hogwarts Express.

“How was he brewing such large quantities of this potion without the Carrows finding out?” Professor McGonagall asked.

“I think that is something Miss Weaver can help us answer,” Professor DD’s portrait said and everyone turned to look at me.

“Well . . .well . . . I can’t . . . I mean . . .” I stammered, blushing furiously upon finding myself the center of attention. “The headmaster did something so that I can’t say were he made his potions.”

“A Fidelius Charm?” Professor McGonagall said. “Miss Weaver, that means you are indeed able to show us this lab. Since Professor Snape was killed several hours ago, you are now its secret-keeper.” I felt icy jolts of shock wash over me.

“Professor Snape is . . . he’s dead?” I felt my eyes start to sting. “But he saved me from Professor Carrow,” I said.

“What are you talking about, child?” Professor McGonagall demanded.

“Professor Carrow wanted our Dark Arts class to practice the spells he taught us before we took the exam.” I hesitated. “He said . . .” my voice dropped to a whisper. “He said they could practice on me because I was a half-blood.” The room was as silent as the grave. “Professor Snape came and took me from class and told me to stay in his potions lab until he came back for me. That’s where Kreacher found me.”

Professor McGonagall seemed to have trouble clearing her throat before speaking again.

“Please show us this place, Miss Weaver.”

I lead the little group - myself, Professor McGonagall, Harry Potter and apparently two of his friends, a girl with busy brown hair and another boy with red hair and freckles - to the corridor with the trolls-in-tutus tapestry. As I thought about the headmaster’s lab, a door suddenly appeared and I opened it. Everyone followed me inside.

My mug of hot chocolate was still sitting on the workbench and I walked over to it. If ever I needed chocolate, it was now. Professor McGonagall inspected the little workroom and found a parchment covered with cramped, minuscule handwriting.

“These ingredients are all healing herbs,” she said. “He really was trying to protect the students.”

“As he promised me he would do, Minerva,” Professor Dumbledore was back in his portrait.

---

My father’s hand warmed mine as we stood at the foot of the two white sepulchers. The funeral had been held several days ago and the tomb of Severus Snape had been placed next to that of Albus Dumbledore’s. Letting go of his hand, I pulled my wand and stepped forward.

Cavum,” I said and pointed my wand at the foot of Headmaster Snape’s sepulcher. A small hole appeared and my father handed me the plant that had been on the headmaster’s desk - the one I had left on the stairs to his office. I removed it from its pot, placed it in the ground and tamped dirt around it. Standing, I waved my wand over it and whispered “Floresco.” The sagging blooms freshened and then flushed with color - white, pink and red.

We turned to go, walking up the hill toward the castle. Stopping for a moment, I looked back. This one plant would eventually multiply into many. Every spring the lilies would bloom at the foot of the headmaster’s grave.



Last edited by Hes; May 6th, 2013 at 10:31 am.
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