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Those who live by the sword ( a record of one day)
This is the third of a series of four stories detailing the relationship between Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape. It takes place on September 2, 1996, and is really more a vignette than a story (my sister tells me it comes across very well as the opening of a novel, but I don't know what will happen further on - I may continue if I get inspired!)
For now, it is about 4,100 words long. It is rated G, and the main characters are Dumbledore, Snape, and three Ravenclaw first years. The story follows the cut. This has not been beta read, except by my sister, so crit is welcome.
Those Who Live By the Sword
(September 2, 1996)
As she walked to her very first class at Hogwarts, Joanna Vance tried hard not to reach for her new friend's hand. The castle seemed huge and scary to her, and the classroom, when they had filed in with the other first year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, was more than scary. It was dimly lit and decorated with pictures of people being tortured and killed - or so it seemed to Joanna. She did not want to look at any of them. This left her no alternative but to stare straight at the the man who stood at the front of the room waiting for them, but he was, if anything, more alarming than the pictures. He was a thin man with very dark hair and very pale skin, and he stood so still that, but for his glittering black eyes, he might have been a waxwork. Joanna heard a boy next to her mutter under his breath, "Crikey! Is he a vampire?" He looked exactly like Joanna's idea of a vampire, and the thought scared her even more; after all, if giants and unicorns were real, why couldn't vampires be, as well?
Joanna knew this man's name was Professor Snape. The older students in Ravenclaw had been grumbling about him last night, and commiserating with the first years who would have to take his first Defense class Monday morning. "Don't let him frighten you," a tall boy called Michael Corner had said to her and the other first years. "He's nasty, but the Headmaster would never let him actually hurt anyone. He'll take lots of points, if he gets a chance, and he's a demon for detentions, but you'll be all right if you pay attention and do exactly what he asks. At least, you should be. It worked in Potions; don't know what he'll be like in Defense." To Joanna, this seemed like good advice, and she intended to follow it to the letter.
She and her friend Valerie - also a Muggleborn - sat together toward the back of the classroom. No one wanted to go to the front, and there was some pushing and whispering as the rest of the class filed in behind them. The professor's lip curled as he watched them. Joanna felt sorry for the Hufflepuff boy who ended up sitting in the first row right in front of him. But the beginning of the class seemed normal enough: Professor Snape simply called the roll, and the voices of the boys and girls round her responding "here sir," sounded reassuringly familiar, so that she might have been back at her primary school. She was the last to be called, and when the professor called her name, and she responded, he looked at her very sharply. His gaze was so intense that she felt physically shocked, as though she'd been hit with a jolt of electricity. It was a relief when he looked away and began pacing back and forth and defining the Dark Arts. Valerie had already got out pen and parchment and was writing down what he was saying; Joanna tried to follow her example, but she simply couldn't write that quickly, and she didn't dare ask Professor Snape to slow down or repeat himself. She set her quill down on the desk and decided she would ask to copy Val's notes when class was over.
The professor finished his introductory speech and turned to face the class. "Now," he said, "you will be learning how to defend yourselves against magical assaults. What are the three components of a hex?" A moment of total silence followed this question, and Joanna bit her lip, hoping he wouldn't call on her. Three components? She could only think of one. Professor Snape's gaze raked the class, finally coming to rest on Valerie. "Miss Maxwell," he said, "would you care to enlighten us?"
"The words, sir?" Valerie ventured softly. "You have to say the right words."
"Well. That is a bit less than a third of the answer. Can anyone assist Miss Maxwell?"
Again, there was absolute silence. "No one?" the professor said. "Am I to believe not one of you has ever done magic before?" Val looked at Joanna in bewilderment; Joanna knew she must look equally puzzled. No one raised his or her hand, and no one spoke. "Very well, " Professor Snape continued, "we shall define the basics, since none of you seems to know them. Write this down." He waved his wand at the blackboard at the front of the room and said, "The first component of a hex is, as Miss Maxwell has said, the words; however, the correct term is the incantation. At this stage, you will speak incantations aloud. The second component is the intention, which the incantation helps to focus. The third is your wand." He faced the class again and said, "Since all three of these components are necessary for a successful hex, what is the single most useful action you can take against an enemy who is trying to curse you?"
The boy who had whispered about vampires raised his hand. "Mister Rafferty?" Professor Snape said.
"Get rid of their wand, sir," Rafferty answered.
"Inelegantly expressed, but essentially accurate. Since it is impossible to perform most sorts of magic without a wand, depriving an enemy of his wand will normally give you a considerable advantage. The incantation is Expelliarmus. Repeat it, please."
"Expelliarmus," the class repeated in chorus. Professor Snape then pointed to various students and asked them to repeat it individually; Joanna whispered under her breath along with them. Professor Snape cast another very sharp glance at her as she did so, but he made no comment. He did not call on her.
"Adequate," he said finally. "Now, wand motions. Some of you -" and his lip curled again, "may have the notion that larger motions result in a stronger spell. This is incorrect. Can anyone tell me why?"
Once again, there was complete silence. Professor Snape snorted and murmured under his breath, "Wonderful. Yet another class of illiterates," and Joanna felt her face go hot. "Let me phrase the question differently, then," he said. "Why is a wand essential to most controlled magic?"
Joanna was pretty sure she knew the answer. She chewed on her lip, wondering whether she dared, and then slowly raised her hand. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Val's hand was also up, and a Hufflepuff girl two rows ahead of them had raised her hand as well. For a moment Joanna considered letting one of them answer, but she didn't get the chance. "Miss Vance?" Professor Snape said.
"A wand lets you aim, sir?" she answered, annoyed with herself as she heard her own voice rising into a question, just as Valerie's had done.
"And?" Professor Snape asked.
Joanna was silent. And what? Hadn't she answered the question? She saw Professor Snape shaking his head, and felt her cheeks getting hotter. "Write this down," he said. "As I said earlier, there are three components to any successful spell; the incantation, the intent, and the wand. A spell is a controlled use of magical power, to a particular end. As the incantation provides mental focus for the energy of a spell, a wand provides physical focus. Therefore, you must use your wands with precision. How should you direct this spell?"
Rafferty had raised his hand again. Professor Snape raised his eyebrows and nodded. "Rafferty?"
"If they're in front of you, you want to aim it straight at them. At their wand."
"Why?"
"So their wand will go behind them. And you can get them in the back when they turn around to get it."
Professor Snape smiled; a twisted, feral smile revealing sharp, yellowish teeth. "Good," he said. "Two points for Ravenclaw. However -" after a beat, he went on, "Miss Maxwell. Go and stand against the door, if you please." At first, Joanna wondered why he had picked Val, but then she saw that her friend's desk was nearest the door; there was no one behind her. Valerie got up and did as the professor had requested, looking puzzled. A split second later - so quickly Joanna hardly saw it happen - a beam of light hit Val's wand, which flew out of her hand to strike the door and landed under her desk, several feet in front of her. The whole class gasped. "Thank you, Miss Maxwell. You may return to your seat," the professor said. "It is not always advantageous to send an enemy's wand behind him," he continued. "You must consider his location and vary your approach accordingly. But the strategy Rafferty has suggested is the easiest to learn, and this is how you will start. You need merely aim at your opponent's wand hand; no wand motion is necessary. Now split into pairs and attempt to disarm each other. Miss Maxwell?" For Valerie had raised her hand.
"I can't do this, sir," she said.
"Why not? Are you a Squib?"
Valerie raised her chin. "I'm a Quaker, sir. I can't do violence to another person. It's wrong."
"I think you will find that others are quite capable of doing violence to you. You will learn what I teach you, or you will fail this class."
"Yes sir," Valerie said. She was pale, and Joanna could see tears in her eyes, but her voice was firm. "But I can't do this. It's violent."
"I did not ask for your opinion, Miss Maxwell, " Professor Snape said. His voice was very quiet, and there was an expression on his face that Joanna could not identify; he seemed almost puzzled, rather than angry. He continued, "Ten points from Ravenclaw for speaking out of turn. And you will write me an essay explaining exactly how disarming an opponent constitutes doing them violence, and also what forms of defense you consider allowable. Twelve inches, to be handed in at the beginning of the next class."
"Yes, sir," Valerie whispered.
As the professor turned and began walking back to the front of the classroom, Rafferty's neighbor, a tall boy with curly hair, turned and hissed at Valerie, "Why couldn't you keep your mouth shut?" The next moment his wand flew from his grasp to hit the wall to the left. "I do not recall asking for your opinion, either, Mister Jones," Professor Snape said. "Five more points from Ravenclaw. Now, divide into pairs and practice. You have twenty minutes; do not waste time."
There were twenty five students in the class, so Val, Joanna and Rafferty ended up in a group of three. "I'm not going to attack you," Val told the other two, "at least, not until I've talked to my parents about it, but you can try to disarm me."
"That's cool, " Rafferty said. "We can take it in turns, okay? My name's Joe."
"Okay," Valerie and Joanna said in chorus. Then Joanna said, "But weren't you with that other boy?"
"Jones? Nah, he's with Tyler. Anyway, you two have got some guts."
Joanna was pretty sure Rafferty meant to compliment them, though she would never had said anything like that to a boy. She didn't have any brothers or sisters and boys puzzled her sometimes. But Joe Rafferty was fun to work with. Each of them managed to disarm each other, turn and turn about, while Val watched, repeating the spell with them. Then Joe tried to disarm Valerie while Joanna watched. She was so focused on what her friends were doing that she jumped when she heard Professor Snape's voice behind her. "Miss Vance. With me."
"Sir?"
"I should like you to attempt to disarm me."
Joanna's eyes widened in shock. Was Professor Snape really asking her to attack him? But she had always been in the habit of obeying her teachers, so she faced him and, squinting a bit because he was so scary-looking, pointed her wand in his general direction and whispered, "Expelliarmus". Nothing happened.
"You are not going to hurt me, Miss Vance. Try again. And keep your eyes open this time."
Flushing, Joanna stared straight at the wand held loosely in the professor's large, bony hand and nearly shouted, "Expelliarmus!" This time a beam of light from her wand hit the professor's and knocked it from his grip. It landed on the desk just behind him. "Better," Professor Snape said. "Remember, though, that in most duelling situations it is more helpful to look at your enemy's eyes than at his wand. Now try it with Rafferty."
Joanna turned back to Joe and Val - who had been staring in wide-eyed silence - and said, "Um. Do you want to try me first?"
"All right," Joe answered. He and Joanna now tried to disarm each other while staring into each other's eyes, but they weren't very successful. For one thing, Joanna found it was a lot harder to aim when she wasn't actually looking at Joe's wand hand, and for another she had always been bad at staring contests, and found herself getting the giggles. Joe did better, at least as far as the giggles went, but all three of them collapsed into nervous laughter when they heard Professor Snape scolding the Hufflepuff boy at the front of the room. He was saying, " Abboud, why are you flailing about like an injured hippogriff? Didn't you hear me tell you not to move your wand? Idiot boy!" Luckily, all three of them had managed to recover their gravity when Professor Snape called the class to order. He said, "I expect all of you to know this spell perfectly by the next class." Joanna noticed he was staring straight at Valerie as he spoke. "You will also read the first chapter in your textbooks and write definitions of the four basic types of defensive spells. Twelve inches, to be handed in at the beginning of your next class. You are dismissed."
Along with the other students, Joanna hurried to pack up her quill and parchment and book and wand. She began looking around for landmarks when she left the classroom; they had to get to Professor Flitwick's class next and she wasn't at all sure where it was. As she hesitated, Professor Snape swept by her. It seemed to her that he touched her shoulder lightly as he passed, but he said nothing. He was walking very fast, and had turned the corner before she thought of asking him for directions.
"Joe, " she asked, "do you know how to find . . .", but she never finished her question, because the boy called Jones interrupted her.
"We're thirteen points down!" he grumbled. "I hope you keep your mouth shut next time." He was glaring at Valerie.
"Why, you're not superstitious, are you?" Valerie answered. Joe chimed in, "You're a fine one to talk; you lost us five!"
"Come on," Joanna said, "we'll be late for Charms. How do we get there?"
"I''ll tell you if your friend promises not to say anything stupid in the next class," Jones said. Joanna stared at him indignantly, trying to think of a smart reply, but Val answered first.
"I think I can promise that," she said calmly.
"Okay. Down that way, where Snape went, but go straight ahead instead of turning left." He sounded so confident that they all trooped after him.
As the children he had left were opening the door to the Charms classroom, Severus Snape was kneeling on the floor of the headmaster's office. His wand was out and he was running it over Dumbledore's hand and forearm, murmuring in a strange language - not the usual Latin, nor even Greek, but something full of glottals and diphthongs that might have been Arabic or Gaelic. The older man sat quietly, gazing at Snape's bent head. There was an empty, unstoppered flask on the desk in front of him. The Headmaster's fingers looked like twigs that had been burned nearly to charcoal; the blackness and withering affected not only his hand, but also the forearm nearly up to the elbow. As the younger man chanted, the blackness receded, so that Dumbledore's veins seemed to pulse with life again. His arm seemed to become flesh almost to the wrist, but his hand remained dead and withered. "It is spreading, is it not?" he remarked softly.
Snape finished his spell and slid his wand into a pocket. "Yes," he answered, looking up. His eyes were bleak.
"How long do you think we can keep it at bay? The traditional year and a day, perhaps?"
"I don't know," Snape responded. He was still kneeling in front of the headmaster, and his head was again bent. "Headmaster," he said, "Draco Malfoy has been given my old assignment. I tried to speak to him last night, but he avoided me. He does not trust me."
Dumbledore sighed. "Poor boy. He is probably too afraid to trust anyone. You must, of course, prevent him from attempting it. I do not think, however, we need worry about his succeeding; Draco is no killer."
"Yes," Snape said again. "I promised his mother that I would protect him, " he added more quietly.
Dumbledore looked at him rather sharply, as though he heard another meaning behind the younger man's words. "Well," he said. "Of course you will protect him, as you would any student in this school." Snape looked up, into his headmaster's eyes. After a moment's silence, he answered, "Of course." Then he rose to his feet.
"You had the little Vance girl in your first class, did you not, Severus?"
"Yes." After a pause, he added, "She seems to have some talent." The headmaster watched something flash in his eyes; it might have been grief, or anger, or regret. A moment later, the young man burst out, "Headmaster, what is a Quaker?"
"The Quakers are a Christian sect. They take literally the adage that those who live by the sword must also die by the sword. They are, of course, quite right."
Snape snorted. "That's the only way I know how to live," he muttered.
"We have been at war since before you were born," Dumbledore said. His eyes were sorrowful. "We have all been living by the sword, but we must not forget there are other ways of living. I take it there is a Quaker among the first years?"
"Yes. The Vance girl's friend, Valerie Maxwell. She refused to learn "Expelliarmus"; said it was violent." Snape snorted again, his expression contemptuous, and continued, "If she will not learn what I teach, I believe she should leave this school. I shall not allow her to endanger her fellow students through voluntary ignorance."
"I see," the headmaster responded. "But there are other roles the child might play, are there not? Even in war, there are tasks other than fighting." Snape did not answer, so Dumbledore continued, "What punishment have you given her?"
"None. I set her an essay on what she considers allowable means of defense. She is to give it to me on Thursday; then I intend to speak to Flitwick about her."
"And you took points from her, of course."
"Of course," Snape answered. "I will not permit that child to dictate to me what she will or will not learn." His voice was tight and he had begun pacing.
"Well. That seems reasonable enough," Dumbledore said mildly. "Try not to be too hard on her, Severus. As I understand it, the Quaker philosophy is actually quite admirable."
"If she remains here, she will learn Defense, even if I have to fail her five years in a row."
"I hope we may all be here five years from now," Dumbledore said. At that, the younger man stopped pacing and turned toward him. His face was very pale. "Severus," Dumbledore continued, "I know Draco looks up to you. You may be able to turn him from this path."
"I will do all I can."
"I know you will," Dumbledore responded. Severus Snape said nothing, but bowed his head slightly. "Do not be too hard on yourself, either, Severus," the headmaster said. "We can only do what is possible to us. Do you understand me?" Severus raised his head again and looked Dumbledore in the eye for a long moment. Neither man spoke, but, as if at a signal both had heard, the momentary tension between them relaxed. Dumbledore sighed and looked down slightly, as if still in thought. Snape, for his part, looked away, toward a table of spinning instruments. Almost unconsciously he reached out a forefinger to touch one; a hollow fretwork globe with a slightly flattened base. A smaller globe rested in its center, as though held with invisible wires, and another within the second globe, and yet another within the third. As the young man touched it, the globes began to rotate rapidly, and all four spheres produced a tone - first the base note, then a minor third, then a fifth, then a seventh. The chord was very faint, but it seemed to fill the room. Severus jerked his hand back and turned to Dumbledore, who was smiling. "Take it, Severus, " he said. "I know you have had your eye on that one since you were eleven."
"What does it do, Headmaster?"
"Oh, that varies with the person. For example, I never heard it do that before."
"It must do more than make music. How long did it take you to figure it out?"
"Two months, I believe."
"Give me three, then."
"You might master it sooner. It seems to respond well to you," Dumbledore said.
"I'll let you know," Severus said, and pocketed the globe. Like Dumbledore, he was smiling slightly. "Thank you, sir," he added.
"You are quite welcome. I shall be interested to hear what you discover," Dumbledore said. "And, Severus?"
"Yes, Headmaster?"
"I should like to talk to you and Filius on Thursday evening about the little Maxwell girl."
"At what time?"
"Oh, eight o'clock, I think. Please tell Filius when you speak to him."
"I shall," Snape said, and walked toward the door. But then he turned back toward Dumbledore, one hand on the door handle. Headmaster?" he said.
"What is it, Severus?"
"If Valerie Maxwell will not learn Defense, I believe she should be expelled."
"I am aware of your feelings, Severus. However, that is Filius's decision, and I do not believe he will agree. We will speak about this on Thursday."
Severus Snape nodded, saying nothing, and left the office.
At nine o'clock that evening, Professor Snape sat in his office with a pile of papers in front of him. He had given his third year Gryffindors and Slytherins a quiz on basic defensive spells; his main purpose was to find out if they had actually learned anything from that madman, Barty Crouch, and, if so, whether they had retained it through Umbridge's reign of utter neglect. But the students - particularly the Gryffindors - had, of course, seen it as an unfair punishment. So far, he found, as he had expected, that the third years were nearly as ignorant as the first years. That worried him, but he was not displeased to be able to penalize some of the worst grumblers among the Gryffindors. He finished commenting on the last quiz and added it to the pile; then he pulled the fretwork globe out of his pocket and set it on his desk. It began humming the moment he touched it, but became silent and still as he took his hand from it. Severus looked at it, considering. What would happen if one touched it with a wand? He pulled his wand out to try.
At the same time, in the Ravenclaw common room, Joanna and Joe were practising while Valerie wrote a letter to her parents. Joanna could disarm Joe every time now, provided she was looking directly at his wand, but she managed it only about half the time if she tried to look into his eyes. Joe was a little better at it; he always stared straight into her eyes and still managed to disarm her two times out of three. Just now he had knocked her wand back onto the windowsill behind them. She turned to pick it up and faced him, pointing her wand toward the center of his body. "Expelliarmus," she cried. Joe's wand jerked backwards and clattered onto the floor. Now it was his turn. The children were getting tired - they had been practising for nearly an hour, and it had been a long day. But neither of them wanted to give up. If anyone had been listening outside the common room door - Filius Flitwick, for example - he might have heard the two treble voices, growing quieter from fatigue, but still determined, answering each other in a steady rhythm.
"Expelliarmus"
"Expelliarmus"
"Expelliarmus"
For now, it is about 4,100 words long. It is rated G, and the main characters are Dumbledore, Snape, and three Ravenclaw first years. The story follows the cut. This has not been beta read, except by my sister, so crit is welcome.
Those Who Live By the Sword
(September 2, 1996)
As she walked to her very first class at Hogwarts, Joanna Vance tried hard not to reach for her new friend's hand. The castle seemed huge and scary to her, and the classroom, when they had filed in with the other first year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, was more than scary. It was dimly lit and decorated with pictures of people being tortured and killed - or so it seemed to Joanna. She did not want to look at any of them. This left her no alternative but to stare straight at the the man who stood at the front of the room waiting for them, but he was, if anything, more alarming than the pictures. He was a thin man with very dark hair and very pale skin, and he stood so still that, but for his glittering black eyes, he might have been a waxwork. Joanna heard a boy next to her mutter under his breath, "Crikey! Is he a vampire?" He looked exactly like Joanna's idea of a vampire, and the thought scared her even more; after all, if giants and unicorns were real, why couldn't vampires be, as well?
Joanna knew this man's name was Professor Snape. The older students in Ravenclaw had been grumbling about him last night, and commiserating with the first years who would have to take his first Defense class Monday morning. "Don't let him frighten you," a tall boy called Michael Corner had said to her and the other first years. "He's nasty, but the Headmaster would never let him actually hurt anyone. He'll take lots of points, if he gets a chance, and he's a demon for detentions, but you'll be all right if you pay attention and do exactly what he asks. At least, you should be. It worked in Potions; don't know what he'll be like in Defense." To Joanna, this seemed like good advice, and she intended to follow it to the letter.
She and her friend Valerie - also a Muggleborn - sat together toward the back of the classroom. No one wanted to go to the front, and there was some pushing and whispering as the rest of the class filed in behind them. The professor's lip curled as he watched them. Joanna felt sorry for the Hufflepuff boy who ended up sitting in the first row right in front of him. But the beginning of the class seemed normal enough: Professor Snape simply called the roll, and the voices of the boys and girls round her responding "here sir," sounded reassuringly familiar, so that she might have been back at her primary school. She was the last to be called, and when the professor called her name, and she responded, he looked at her very sharply. His gaze was so intense that she felt physically shocked, as though she'd been hit with a jolt of electricity. It was a relief when he looked away and began pacing back and forth and defining the Dark Arts. Valerie had already got out pen and parchment and was writing down what he was saying; Joanna tried to follow her example, but she simply couldn't write that quickly, and she didn't dare ask Professor Snape to slow down or repeat himself. She set her quill down on the desk and decided she would ask to copy Val's notes when class was over.
The professor finished his introductory speech and turned to face the class. "Now," he said, "you will be learning how to defend yourselves against magical assaults. What are the three components of a hex?" A moment of total silence followed this question, and Joanna bit her lip, hoping he wouldn't call on her. Three components? She could only think of one. Professor Snape's gaze raked the class, finally coming to rest on Valerie. "Miss Maxwell," he said, "would you care to enlighten us?"
"The words, sir?" Valerie ventured softly. "You have to say the right words."
"Well. That is a bit less than a third of the answer. Can anyone assist Miss Maxwell?"
Again, there was absolute silence. "No one?" the professor said. "Am I to believe not one of you has ever done magic before?" Val looked at Joanna in bewilderment; Joanna knew she must look equally puzzled. No one raised his or her hand, and no one spoke. "Very well, " Professor Snape continued, "we shall define the basics, since none of you seems to know them. Write this down." He waved his wand at the blackboard at the front of the room and said, "The first component of a hex is, as Miss Maxwell has said, the words; however, the correct term is the incantation. At this stage, you will speak incantations aloud. The second component is the intention, which the incantation helps to focus. The third is your wand." He faced the class again and said, "Since all three of these components are necessary for a successful hex, what is the single most useful action you can take against an enemy who is trying to curse you?"
The boy who had whispered about vampires raised his hand. "Mister Rafferty?" Professor Snape said.
"Get rid of their wand, sir," Rafferty answered.
"Inelegantly expressed, but essentially accurate. Since it is impossible to perform most sorts of magic without a wand, depriving an enemy of his wand will normally give you a considerable advantage. The incantation is Expelliarmus. Repeat it, please."
"Expelliarmus," the class repeated in chorus. Professor Snape then pointed to various students and asked them to repeat it individually; Joanna whispered under her breath along with them. Professor Snape cast another very sharp glance at her as she did so, but he made no comment. He did not call on her.
"Adequate," he said finally. "Now, wand motions. Some of you -" and his lip curled again, "may have the notion that larger motions result in a stronger spell. This is incorrect. Can anyone tell me why?"
Once again, there was complete silence. Professor Snape snorted and murmured under his breath, "Wonderful. Yet another class of illiterates," and Joanna felt her face go hot. "Let me phrase the question differently, then," he said. "Why is a wand essential to most controlled magic?"
Joanna was pretty sure she knew the answer. She chewed on her lip, wondering whether she dared, and then slowly raised her hand. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Val's hand was also up, and a Hufflepuff girl two rows ahead of them had raised her hand as well. For a moment Joanna considered letting one of them answer, but she didn't get the chance. "Miss Vance?" Professor Snape said.
"A wand lets you aim, sir?" she answered, annoyed with herself as she heard her own voice rising into a question, just as Valerie's had done.
"And?" Professor Snape asked.
Joanna was silent. And what? Hadn't she answered the question? She saw Professor Snape shaking his head, and felt her cheeks getting hotter. "Write this down," he said. "As I said earlier, there are three components to any successful spell; the incantation, the intent, and the wand. A spell is a controlled use of magical power, to a particular end. As the incantation provides mental focus for the energy of a spell, a wand provides physical focus. Therefore, you must use your wands with precision. How should you direct this spell?"
Rafferty had raised his hand again. Professor Snape raised his eyebrows and nodded. "Rafferty?"
"If they're in front of you, you want to aim it straight at them. At their wand."
"Why?"
"So their wand will go behind them. And you can get them in the back when they turn around to get it."
Professor Snape smiled; a twisted, feral smile revealing sharp, yellowish teeth. "Good," he said. "Two points for Ravenclaw. However -" after a beat, he went on, "Miss Maxwell. Go and stand against the door, if you please." At first, Joanna wondered why he had picked Val, but then she saw that her friend's desk was nearest the door; there was no one behind her. Valerie got up and did as the professor had requested, looking puzzled. A split second later - so quickly Joanna hardly saw it happen - a beam of light hit Val's wand, which flew out of her hand to strike the door and landed under her desk, several feet in front of her. The whole class gasped. "Thank you, Miss Maxwell. You may return to your seat," the professor said. "It is not always advantageous to send an enemy's wand behind him," he continued. "You must consider his location and vary your approach accordingly. But the strategy Rafferty has suggested is the easiest to learn, and this is how you will start. You need merely aim at your opponent's wand hand; no wand motion is necessary. Now split into pairs and attempt to disarm each other. Miss Maxwell?" For Valerie had raised her hand.
"I can't do this, sir," she said.
"Why not? Are you a Squib?"
Valerie raised her chin. "I'm a Quaker, sir. I can't do violence to another person. It's wrong."
"I think you will find that others are quite capable of doing violence to you. You will learn what I teach you, or you will fail this class."
"Yes sir," Valerie said. She was pale, and Joanna could see tears in her eyes, but her voice was firm. "But I can't do this. It's violent."
"I did not ask for your opinion, Miss Maxwell, " Professor Snape said. His voice was very quiet, and there was an expression on his face that Joanna could not identify; he seemed almost puzzled, rather than angry. He continued, "Ten points from Ravenclaw for speaking out of turn. And you will write me an essay explaining exactly how disarming an opponent constitutes doing them violence, and also what forms of defense you consider allowable. Twelve inches, to be handed in at the beginning of the next class."
"Yes, sir," Valerie whispered.
As the professor turned and began walking back to the front of the classroom, Rafferty's neighbor, a tall boy with curly hair, turned and hissed at Valerie, "Why couldn't you keep your mouth shut?" The next moment his wand flew from his grasp to hit the wall to the left. "I do not recall asking for your opinion, either, Mister Jones," Professor Snape said. "Five more points from Ravenclaw. Now, divide into pairs and practice. You have twenty minutes; do not waste time."
There were twenty five students in the class, so Val, Joanna and Rafferty ended up in a group of three. "I'm not going to attack you," Val told the other two, "at least, not until I've talked to my parents about it, but you can try to disarm me."
"That's cool, " Rafferty said. "We can take it in turns, okay? My name's Joe."
"Okay," Valerie and Joanna said in chorus. Then Joanna said, "But weren't you with that other boy?"
"Jones? Nah, he's with Tyler. Anyway, you two have got some guts."
Joanna was pretty sure Rafferty meant to compliment them, though she would never had said anything like that to a boy. She didn't have any brothers or sisters and boys puzzled her sometimes. But Joe Rafferty was fun to work with. Each of them managed to disarm each other, turn and turn about, while Val watched, repeating the spell with them. Then Joe tried to disarm Valerie while Joanna watched. She was so focused on what her friends were doing that she jumped when she heard Professor Snape's voice behind her. "Miss Vance. With me."
"Sir?"
"I should like you to attempt to disarm me."
Joanna's eyes widened in shock. Was Professor Snape really asking her to attack him? But she had always been in the habit of obeying her teachers, so she faced him and, squinting a bit because he was so scary-looking, pointed her wand in his general direction and whispered, "Expelliarmus". Nothing happened.
"You are not going to hurt me, Miss Vance. Try again. And keep your eyes open this time."
Flushing, Joanna stared straight at the wand held loosely in the professor's large, bony hand and nearly shouted, "Expelliarmus!" This time a beam of light from her wand hit the professor's and knocked it from his grip. It landed on the desk just behind him. "Better," Professor Snape said. "Remember, though, that in most duelling situations it is more helpful to look at your enemy's eyes than at his wand. Now try it with Rafferty."
Joanna turned back to Joe and Val - who had been staring in wide-eyed silence - and said, "Um. Do you want to try me first?"
"All right," Joe answered. He and Joanna now tried to disarm each other while staring into each other's eyes, but they weren't very successful. For one thing, Joanna found it was a lot harder to aim when she wasn't actually looking at Joe's wand hand, and for another she had always been bad at staring contests, and found herself getting the giggles. Joe did better, at least as far as the giggles went, but all three of them collapsed into nervous laughter when they heard Professor Snape scolding the Hufflepuff boy at the front of the room. He was saying, " Abboud, why are you flailing about like an injured hippogriff? Didn't you hear me tell you not to move your wand? Idiot boy!" Luckily, all three of them had managed to recover their gravity when Professor Snape called the class to order. He said, "I expect all of you to know this spell perfectly by the next class." Joanna noticed he was staring straight at Valerie as he spoke. "You will also read the first chapter in your textbooks and write definitions of the four basic types of defensive spells. Twelve inches, to be handed in at the beginning of your next class. You are dismissed."
Along with the other students, Joanna hurried to pack up her quill and parchment and book and wand. She began looking around for landmarks when she left the classroom; they had to get to Professor Flitwick's class next and she wasn't at all sure where it was. As she hesitated, Professor Snape swept by her. It seemed to her that he touched her shoulder lightly as he passed, but he said nothing. He was walking very fast, and had turned the corner before she thought of asking him for directions.
"Joe, " she asked, "do you know how to find . . .", but she never finished her question, because the boy called Jones interrupted her.
"We're thirteen points down!" he grumbled. "I hope you keep your mouth shut next time." He was glaring at Valerie.
"Why, you're not superstitious, are you?" Valerie answered. Joe chimed in, "You're a fine one to talk; you lost us five!"
"Come on," Joanna said, "we'll be late for Charms. How do we get there?"
"I''ll tell you if your friend promises not to say anything stupid in the next class," Jones said. Joanna stared at him indignantly, trying to think of a smart reply, but Val answered first.
"I think I can promise that," she said calmly.
"Okay. Down that way, where Snape went, but go straight ahead instead of turning left." He sounded so confident that they all trooped after him.
As the children he had left were opening the door to the Charms classroom, Severus Snape was kneeling on the floor of the headmaster's office. His wand was out and he was running it over Dumbledore's hand and forearm, murmuring in a strange language - not the usual Latin, nor even Greek, but something full of glottals and diphthongs that might have been Arabic or Gaelic. The older man sat quietly, gazing at Snape's bent head. There was an empty, unstoppered flask on the desk in front of him. The Headmaster's fingers looked like twigs that had been burned nearly to charcoal; the blackness and withering affected not only his hand, but also the forearm nearly up to the elbow. As the younger man chanted, the blackness receded, so that Dumbledore's veins seemed to pulse with life again. His arm seemed to become flesh almost to the wrist, but his hand remained dead and withered. "It is spreading, is it not?" he remarked softly.
Snape finished his spell and slid his wand into a pocket. "Yes," he answered, looking up. His eyes were bleak.
"How long do you think we can keep it at bay? The traditional year and a day, perhaps?"
"I don't know," Snape responded. He was still kneeling in front of the headmaster, and his head was again bent. "Headmaster," he said, "Draco Malfoy has been given my old assignment. I tried to speak to him last night, but he avoided me. He does not trust me."
Dumbledore sighed. "Poor boy. He is probably too afraid to trust anyone. You must, of course, prevent him from attempting it. I do not think, however, we need worry about his succeeding; Draco is no killer."
"Yes," Snape said again. "I promised his mother that I would protect him, " he added more quietly.
Dumbledore looked at him rather sharply, as though he heard another meaning behind the younger man's words. "Well," he said. "Of course you will protect him, as you would any student in this school." Snape looked up, into his headmaster's eyes. After a moment's silence, he answered, "Of course." Then he rose to his feet.
"You had the little Vance girl in your first class, did you not, Severus?"
"Yes." After a pause, he added, "She seems to have some talent." The headmaster watched something flash in his eyes; it might have been grief, or anger, or regret. A moment later, the young man burst out, "Headmaster, what is a Quaker?"
"The Quakers are a Christian sect. They take literally the adage that those who live by the sword must also die by the sword. They are, of course, quite right."
Snape snorted. "That's the only way I know how to live," he muttered.
"We have been at war since before you were born," Dumbledore said. His eyes were sorrowful. "We have all been living by the sword, but we must not forget there are other ways of living. I take it there is a Quaker among the first years?"
"Yes. The Vance girl's friend, Valerie Maxwell. She refused to learn "Expelliarmus"; said it was violent." Snape snorted again, his expression contemptuous, and continued, "If she will not learn what I teach, I believe she should leave this school. I shall not allow her to endanger her fellow students through voluntary ignorance."
"I see," the headmaster responded. "But there are other roles the child might play, are there not? Even in war, there are tasks other than fighting." Snape did not answer, so Dumbledore continued, "What punishment have you given her?"
"None. I set her an essay on what she considers allowable means of defense. She is to give it to me on Thursday; then I intend to speak to Flitwick about her."
"And you took points from her, of course."
"Of course," Snape answered. "I will not permit that child to dictate to me what she will or will not learn." His voice was tight and he had begun pacing.
"Well. That seems reasonable enough," Dumbledore said mildly. "Try not to be too hard on her, Severus. As I understand it, the Quaker philosophy is actually quite admirable."
"If she remains here, she will learn Defense, even if I have to fail her five years in a row."
"I hope we may all be here five years from now," Dumbledore said. At that, the younger man stopped pacing and turned toward him. His face was very pale. "Severus," Dumbledore continued, "I know Draco looks up to you. You may be able to turn him from this path."
"I will do all I can."
"I know you will," Dumbledore responded. Severus Snape said nothing, but bowed his head slightly. "Do not be too hard on yourself, either, Severus," the headmaster said. "We can only do what is possible to us. Do you understand me?" Severus raised his head again and looked Dumbledore in the eye for a long moment. Neither man spoke, but, as if at a signal both had heard, the momentary tension between them relaxed. Dumbledore sighed and looked down slightly, as if still in thought. Snape, for his part, looked away, toward a table of spinning instruments. Almost unconsciously he reached out a forefinger to touch one; a hollow fretwork globe with a slightly flattened base. A smaller globe rested in its center, as though held with invisible wires, and another within the second globe, and yet another within the third. As the young man touched it, the globes began to rotate rapidly, and all four spheres produced a tone - first the base note, then a minor third, then a fifth, then a seventh. The chord was very faint, but it seemed to fill the room. Severus jerked his hand back and turned to Dumbledore, who was smiling. "Take it, Severus, " he said. "I know you have had your eye on that one since you were eleven."
"What does it do, Headmaster?"
"Oh, that varies with the person. For example, I never heard it do that before."
"It must do more than make music. How long did it take you to figure it out?"
"Two months, I believe."
"Give me three, then."
"You might master it sooner. It seems to respond well to you," Dumbledore said.
"I'll let you know," Severus said, and pocketed the globe. Like Dumbledore, he was smiling slightly. "Thank you, sir," he added.
"You are quite welcome. I shall be interested to hear what you discover," Dumbledore said. "And, Severus?"
"Yes, Headmaster?"
"I should like to talk to you and Filius on Thursday evening about the little Maxwell girl."
"At what time?"
"Oh, eight o'clock, I think. Please tell Filius when you speak to him."
"I shall," Snape said, and walked toward the door. But then he turned back toward Dumbledore, one hand on the door handle. Headmaster?" he said.
"What is it, Severus?"
"If Valerie Maxwell will not learn Defense, I believe she should be expelled."
"I am aware of your feelings, Severus. However, that is Filius's decision, and I do not believe he will agree. We will speak about this on Thursday."
Severus Snape nodded, saying nothing, and left the office.
At nine o'clock that evening, Professor Snape sat in his office with a pile of papers in front of him. He had given his third year Gryffindors and Slytherins a quiz on basic defensive spells; his main purpose was to find out if they had actually learned anything from that madman, Barty Crouch, and, if so, whether they had retained it through Umbridge's reign of utter neglect. But the students - particularly the Gryffindors - had, of course, seen it as an unfair punishment. So far, he found, as he had expected, that the third years were nearly as ignorant as the first years. That worried him, but he was not displeased to be able to penalize some of the worst grumblers among the Gryffindors. He finished commenting on the last quiz and added it to the pile; then he pulled the fretwork globe out of his pocket and set it on his desk. It began humming the moment he touched it, but became silent and still as he took his hand from it. Severus looked at it, considering. What would happen if one touched it with a wand? He pulled his wand out to try.
At the same time, in the Ravenclaw common room, Joanna and Joe were practising while Valerie wrote a letter to her parents. Joanna could disarm Joe every time now, provided she was looking directly at his wand, but she managed it only about half the time if she tried to look into his eyes. Joe was a little better at it; he always stared straight into her eyes and still managed to disarm her two times out of three. Just now he had knocked her wand back onto the windowsill behind them. She turned to pick it up and faced him, pointing her wand toward the center of his body. "Expelliarmus," she cried. Joe's wand jerked backwards and clattered onto the floor. Now it was his turn. The children were getting tired - they had been practising for nearly an hour, and it had been a long day. But neither of them wanted to give up. If anyone had been listening outside the common room door - Filius Flitwick, for example - he might have heard the two treble voices, growing quieter from fatigue, but still determined, answering each other in a steady rhythm.
"Expelliarmus"
"Expelliarmus"
"Expelliarmus"