A/N: Been away for a week, but had no choice. How has life been? Great? Well then, on to this chapter where I try to inject more intrigue and ponder myself when I'll start giving answers. Shouldn't be too long though, another chapter or two and then I start clearing stuff up. Tell me what you think of it in a nice little review?
Disclaimer: Not mine, like I said before, working on my own stuff. How does the name "Dark" sound for a fantasy/mystery/horror original novel?
*****
Chapter Nine
My first impression of Susan Bones, the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, was that she was a rather unhappy woman. She rarely ever smiled; her lessons were lacklustre, often punctuated with Ministry-supplied maxims on the evils of anarchy and sedition, and difficult to recall when it came to end of the year exams. In her eyes one could read the sad story of her life, as painful as so many others, but so consuming that she had allowed them to transform her into a stoic adult. Unmotivated, unconvinced of her usefulness and apparently unwilling to change she could not help the transfer of her mood to her charges and it depressed us. I once asked Mum then, wondering like my father if there was some way, some thing I could do to help her, but she told me to leave it alone. "Not everyone can be saved, Magnolia, what's going on with her... she has to deal with on her own." Then she smiled brightly with sparkling eyes, kissed my forehead and gushed, "Oh you're so like your Dad."
I didn't agree with her on both counts but said nothing. Then later I decided to do all I could to make Professor Bones happy during class times, even if it was just a smile. It worked well too, for a time we were treated to the most light-hearted, interactive classes yet... and then I received her marks on my end of the year exams and that came to an end.
The woman who charged into my dormitory early that Monday morning after the Dementor attack was an entirely different person. She moved with confidence, marching right up to my bed to yank off my comforter and say, "Miss Potter? Wake up, Miss Potter, wake up! You have to come with me. Your father's requested that I teach you a few things in light of recent events and that requires an early start, so wake-up!"
I groaned, protesting the sudden exposure to the cooler surrounding morning air, and said, eyes still tightly shut, "It's still the break! It's the day before Christmas Eve!"
She refused to hear it. "Wake up, Miss Potter! I would've thought that you of all people would want to learn everything they can about protecting themselves after facing a pack of Dementors...."
I sat up at once, forcing my heavy eyelids apart in the thankfully dim room, protesting, "I do! I do want to protect myself... but there's the whole rest of the day, after breakfast, when I'm not so sleepy!"
At this she sat down on the bed and lifted my chin to look at me. Then she asked, "You haven't been sleeping?"
I was sure that, given the night in the Infirmary my fatigue would not yet be obvious, but it would only be a matter of time. I had spent so much of the night before turning about in my bed that I'd only fallen asleep somewhere around three. Of course I wasn't going to give her any details, and especially on the enigma that was becoming Connor Romulus Lupin.
"You try sleeping after someone tries to do you in. First in the bathroom, and then those Dementors..." I muttered, disgruntled and looked away from her around me.
The blizzard had dumped so much snow overnight that the windows were almost completely blocked, but the small fire burning low in the fireplace before all five beds provided the necessary light and heat. And the heat was making shaking off sleep-my of late elusive, but once met, entrancing companion-rather difficult. It was at the wonderful place where it wasn't too bad without a blanket, but was even better under one. As a matter of fact, once she left I planned to do just that, not waking up until hunger finally forced me from sleep somewhere around mid-afternoon.
She released my chin to rest her hand reassuringly on my shoulder, and say, "Don't worry, your Dad gave me explicit instructions that I was to teach you to defend yourself by any means necessary."
I scoffed, "You're my Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, aren't you supposed to be teaching me that anyway?"
She gave me a look that said clearly "Touché" and then a warning glare. "Your father said `by any means necessary'; we're going above Third Year Defence. Meet me in my office in fifteen minutes, don't show up and I'll come to get you." She then rose and left, her long, blonde braid swinging neatly behind her. I looked after her until she disappeared through the dormitory door again and then fell back into the bed with another groan.
I wanted, no I needed to learn to defend myself, I knew that, but I thought I'd handled myself well out there in the snow Saturday night.
Then I remembered the image of the Dementor over Connor's shoulder, and my blood ran cold.
An early start never hurt anybody.
.
Professor Bones was waiting for me in her office, braid tied up in a knot behind her head, sleeves of her robes drawn up and wand out and at the ready. And as soon as I came through the door she called out, "Incarcerous!"
I did the only thing I could do; I ducked out of the way, throwing myself to the floor before her feet. Then I cried out in protest, "What are you trying to do?"
"Teach you to defend yourself!" she responded in kind, and then coming over to help me stand, smiling, added, "Oh Miss Potter, I just thought practical instruction would be better than theory. You can't use theory when you're facing Dark Creatures head on."
"I know," I grumbled, "I just thought you would give me some kind of warning first. I mean, you're not a Dark Creature, and you're trying to teach me, not kill me."
Suddenly she was biting her lips, looking guilty, and then she turned and went to lean against her desk. Maybe I'd spoken too quickly about a personality change. There was a moment of awkward silence, where she sat thinking and I nervously looked around her office-noticeably bare of mementos, decoration or anything that would define it as hers-and then she said, "I'm sorry. I... I really don't know how to approach this lesson. When your father sent that owl yesterday I was so caught up with this memory of Professor Lupin in my Third Year, how good he was and I just wanted to replicate it. It's probably the reason his son's so good, but I'm not Remus Lupin." She exhaled. "He wants me to teach you the Patronus Charm, Shield Charms... basically defensive magic you should be learning in your Fourth and Fifth Years, and how to duel proactively. He wants me to turn you into a little soldier, but I can't do that. He was the teacher, he should be doing this!"
She sank her face into her hands and groaned in frustration. I looked at her at once completely lost, genuinely confused and more than a little worried. This morning in my dorm I thought I'd finally met Professor Susan Bones, though under less than pleasant circumstances, and now it looked as if that was just a temporary burst of self-esteem. She was too far gone; she'd lived this way for far too long to be helped by anything I or my father could manage.
Thinking quickly, I said, "Er... maybe we should do this later? I mean, you could use the time to come up with something you could try... and I could have breakfast...."
To emphasise this point my stomach rumbled noisily. She looked back up at me, flushing pink, and nodded, "Yes... yes, that might be a good idea.... But don't think I'm letting you off; you are coming back this afternoon. I'm the teacher here, I can do this."
I nodded back at her, smiled and then hurried out of the office wondering if she really believed that.
.
Down in the Great Hall-after a thankfully brief, though unsettling walk through torch-lit halls with long shadows and dark corners in which strange noises did mean that there was something there-it was now at last breakfast, and I took my seat at the Gryffindor table amidst plates of toast, steaming cups of hot chocolate and Connor busily scribbling away on a length of parchment. Kimberly, who was seated facing me, whispered across, "He's been doing that since I came down, won't say who he's writing to. Cheating on you already, huh?" When I glared at her, she grinned and then asked, "Where were you this morning? I woke up and you were gone."
Connor didn't look up but I did notice the awkward jerk his quill made on the paper. I replied to Kimberly, looking at him out of the corner of my eye, "Professor Bones is back, said my Dad told her to give me private lessons."
He inhaled sharply, cleared his throat and began another sentence. I continued, "He's worried that I won't know how to defend myself, since whoever this is seems intent on using the Dark Arts...."
Kimberly, being Kimberly, said then, "What's he worried about that for? You've got Connor here to protect you."
I rolled my eyes and looked away to the Slytherin table. Rigel was there amidst a few members of his usual posse, none of who I knew personally or cared to, and as I looked at them he turned to me and smiled. I smiled back and mouthed, "Where-were-you-yesterday?"
He looked puzzled a moment, before replying, "Dorm. Sorry."
I shook my head at him, and then turned back to Kimberly, who was saying, "... was the bravest, sweetest thing they'd heard about in a while. Stanislav's going to have to watch his back; he's got some stiff new competition."
"What?" I asked, lost.
She rolled her eyes at me now and said, "Connor's been commended in Witch Weekly for trying to rescue you Saturday night."
I looked across to him at once, to find him looking up at her equally as stunned and going red in the face. "The Daily Prophet also said that the Minister of Magic wants to award him a special medal for it. Along with that Special Award for Services to the School from Professor McGonagall this is just your year, isn't it?" she asked him with a teasing smile.
I got angry. "What for? He was trying to protect himself too! He would've done the same for anybody else-you would have, wouldn't you?" I turned to Connor to find him still staring at Kimberly shocked. Seeing that he was to be of no help I turned back to her and said, "It's all just a publicity stunt, I'm sure of it. His Dad's done loads for the Wizarding world during the war and he didn't get as much as an official mention."
She shrugged, "That may be so, but he deserves it."
I flushed pink, and stammered, "W-well, y-yes, he does." Then at once turned to Connor and said, "I never said `Thank you', I never got the chance to but... thank you, Connor, for what you did. I don't think I'd have been able to do the same in turn, but-"
He silenced me with a smile, and said, "It's nothing. I couldn't possibly leave you out there to get hurt, but you're welcome anyway."
Kimberly looked between the two of us and gushed, "Aww, you two are so cute!"
I turned back to glare at her, and she tried to silence it by snickering into her hands but was by no means apologetic. When I looked back to Connor, taking dramatic deep calming breaths, it was to discover that he was writing again. Curious, I asked, "Who are you writing to?"
He didn't look up, "Pen pal, do you have one?"
"No," I replied. "You have a pen pal? Where are they from?"
"The Continent-listen, have you seen Rigel?" he asked, stopping to look up at me. I was surprised, taking a quick peek, to see that he wasn't writing in English.
But then I was equally so by his question, I thought he'd made it very clear that he didn't like him yesterday, and why. I replied anyway, "He's right over there, didn't you see him when you came in earlier?"
His eyes quickly flickered over to the Slytherin table, where Rigel was laughing heartily at a joke from one of his female Housemates, a pretty Mulatto girl named Bijou Zabini, (the daughter of his father's former friends, Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini) then to Kimberly for a moment, and then he put a hand on my shoulder, drawing me down to him and whispered, "Someone told Dad about the baby. He confronted Mum about it when she got there this morning."
I sat up away from him and folded my arms, trying to conceal the fact that the touch of his warm breath had raised goose pimples on my neck, "Your Dad's awake? When did that happen?"
He smiled a little. "Late last night, I just got the letter this morning. But did you hear what I sa-"
I cut him off, irritated, "Yes I heard, but don't expect me to feel sorry about that. I understand where your Mum's coming from, I've met Uncle Lupin, but Rigel's got a point."
His expression was one of wearied acceptance in the face of my response, but he continued anyway, "So you think he did it?"
"Is he mad about the baby?" I asked, in a placating tone, intentionally ignoring his question.
"What? No.... And yes. He's worried about the baby, how it's going to be dangerous and stuff like with me, and he is angry about what she did, keeping it a secret and going to work anyway. But he's just as happy that everything's all right, and that he's going to be a Dad again," he replied.
"Oh, well then, why are you angry with Rigel? I doubt he sent that owl to your Dad, he wouldn't do that," I told him, trying to convince myself. "He is upset about it, that's obvious, but he wouldn't have gotten involved, it's none of his business."
Strangely, Connor asked, "How much do you really know about Rigel?" Stranger still it sounded more like a statement than a question.
Angry again, I snapped, "I know more about Rigel than you think. He wouldn't do that; he didn't send your father that owl!"
"How can you be so sure?" he demanded, his eyes now a scary charcoal grey.
"Because he wouldn't, it's not like him. Rigel would never interfere, he considers himself above gossip and you know that!" I snapped. Feelings aside, I was not just going to sit there and allow him to nark on Rigel when he had also done something wrong. I myself was wondering if he'd really sent it, the evidence was overwhelming, but I was far from willing to admit that.
Suddenly, someone said behind me, "What's going on here?" and I cringed. It was Rigel, and he really shouldn't have been there then. He must have seen us arguing from across the room and come to intervene, complete with entourage, but that was a mistake. Connor didn't think, he flew up out of his seat, around me and lunged at Rigel. Surprised, but not unprepared, Rigel grabbed hold of him and swung them both down to the floor. A moment later I was left staring down, shocked, at an open fist-fight.
The reaction was extreme, and faintly I wondered if it had more to do with their old rivalry than this recent infraction. Wizards settled differences with wands, Muggles used their fists, and the only time I'd ever heard differently was from Mum recounting Dad's Fifth Year. To actually see it happening... everyone else was too stunned to attempt to intervene.
It was inevitable then that it would be one of the teachers who would have the presence of mind to interrupt-in this case Professor Flitwick-who arrested their movement with a wave of his wand and said, "Detention! Mr Weasley... Mr Lupin, I am shocked at you... twenty points from Slytherin and Gryffindor! In fact, come with me!"
He freed them and they quickly and carefully extricated themselves from each other and began to follow him out amidst the peering eyes of the entire Hall, heads bowed in shame. Rigel was regularly the instigator of trouble, so many were not surprised to see him, but Connor just yesterday had been a hero. And just as they got to the door, Connor turned back to me with an apologetic look on his face.
I looked away, refusing to accept it, refusing to feel guilty, and then, late as usual, an idea came to me. If Rigel had sent that letter, how did he know that Uncle Lupin was awake?
There were only four people in the Infirmary that morning, Connor, Aunt Tonks, Rigel and myself, not counting Madam Pomfrey. Rigel had stormed out angry, and that just left us, none of who would have told. It had to be Rigel, just had to be, but how?
My train of thought was interrupted by the sound of paper being snatched and torn and I looked up in time to catch Bijou destroying Connor's letter to his pen pal, daring all around to stop her. I drew my wand and called, "Accio letter!"
The fragments flew out of her hands and landed on the table before me in a neat pile. She glared at me, but did not touch me (evidently she too was at the mercy of Rigel's rules where I was concerned) and stomped away with the entourage back to the Slytherin table. It was rumoured that Narcissa Malfoy had been attempting to make them friends since they were five, if she only knew what Rigel really thought of Bijou she would probably give up. Or try harder.
With a quick, whispered spell I repaired the letter, and then carefully looked it over to make sure that it was truly fixed. Being unable to read or recognise the language he was writing in Connor's privacy was assured, but it also made determining errors difficult. It looked okay though and I was setting it aside then when something hit me.
There was someone who might know that Uncle Lupin was awake, or had awoken before his wife did. This person had connections, loads of them, and would be just vicious enough to get involved. I was suddenly glad that I hadn't told Rigel about the Invisibility Cloak, for the person who'd most likely told Uncle Lupin about the baby was Narcissa Malfoy.
*****
No sooner than had I entered Professor Bones' office that evening-now fed and significantly more rested than this morning-than did she attack me again. But this time it was verbal, "Did you have anything to do with Mr Lupin and Mr Weasley's fight this morning?"
I shook my head. "They don't like each other; they've never liked each other."
"Do you have any idea why they were fighting?" she asked.
"No," I lied. And I was yet to speak to them to clear up matters. I was sure that Rigel had told his grandmother about the pregnancy, she then investigated Uncle Lupin's condition and struck gold. Before the message could get to Aunt Tonks her owl was on the way to the hospital. But he and Connor had apparently spent the day with Professor Flitwick and I took an hours-long kip in the people-filled Common Room before the fireplace.
Professor Bones didn't look convinced, but she did not comment, instead saying, "I've come up with a lesson to keep you occupied for the rest of the evening. And if it works out it will continue for the rest of the break and into the school year. It might not be fair to your classmates, but circumstances have determined that we have no choice."
There was something about her now, looking across at me in her office as the sun was extinguished in blue just out her windows that recalled the confident woman of that morning. She really had taken the time to get acquainted with her new position as personal tutor, get comfortable in her shoes and once she was there, take charge of the situation. I was in for trouble by the looks of her, and strangely, I didn't mind that much.
Hesitantly, (she had gotten really comfortable) I asked, "Er... do I get tomorrow and Christmas day off?"
She looked at me surprised, but then smiled, "Yes, even I've got plans for Christmas; you do in fact get until Boxing Day off. But after that I want you here with me every evening, no protest, and I'm also going to give you something to practice on the interim. Please do try to do it, the bulk of work requires actually facing your opponent and I've decided to borrow Professor Lupin's idea of using a boggart. The other stuff you can do on your own."
"Really," I asked, halfway between relief and disappointment.
She just continued smiling, "Yes, really. And we're going to start simple. The Patronus Charm requires a
lot of strength, concentration and a Dementor. Duelling, which you know, requires two people, two wands and quick
reflexes, mental and physical. From now until the day after Boxing Day you need to practice this and I've arranged
to have you tutored by Miss Camilla Longbottom."
"But she's the best duellist in the school!" I exclaimed.
"I know that, that's why I asked her," she replied. "Back before the war your father was often considered the best student in terms of practical studies in the school. It was your mother's idea to start teaching us but he was the one who did it, and we benefited, greatly. If you're going to learn something that is important to your future and have access to someone like that, you are well-advised to take advantage of the situation."
"I understand that, but... she's going to destroy me. She's the best duellist in the entire school, of one thousand students, better even than Flitwick was, I've heard," I replied.
"I know that, that is why I chose her," she said simply. Then, "Her father on the other hand.... Neville as I remember couldn't duel to save his own life, next thing I know he's a war hero with a young daughter, being awarded medals for services to the Wizarding world. Goes to show, sometimes people can surprise you."
She continued after this, apparently forgetting I was there, "That Camilla.... I didn't even know Neville had a girlfriend, at school he was just that bumbling near-Squib who spent far too much time in the greenhouses with Professor Sprout and couldn't sit through a class without suffering some kind of injury. The only girl I ever saw him with was that Ginny Weasley, but then she was his date for the Yule Ball when she was thirteen and long before anyone thought she was anything special. The things he must have gotten up to after Hogwarts closed... he should have been seventeen when Camilla was born."
I had pondered interrupting for some time, but it was at this last question that I said, "Er... Uncle Neville adopted her."
"What?" asked Professor Bones, apparently realising that she'd said that aloud and looking distinctly embarrassed for it.
"Camilla," I explained, feeling distinctly discomfited carrying on this conversation with a teacher, "He said he adopted her. She was a war orphan; her parents were killed early on."
"Oh?" she asked, with interest. "Is that so?" Then she smiled, "Neville is too sweet, even though he was a bit slow he was always a really sweet, respectful person. But he bought himself some trouble; she's such a pretty girl...."
My unease worsened, I replied unsteadily, "I guess...."
At last she said, "I'm sorry about that. Back to the lesson, we're going to duel. Assume the position...."
"Wait, just like that? Aren't you going to teach me any new spells first?" I asked, panicking slightly.
"Oh no, I want to see what you can do first," she replied, and walked away to one side of the room. Reluctantly, I walked to the other end and raised my wand.
.
As I left her office after, feeling very battered and badly bruised, I wondered if this was my father's way of teaching me to be more vigilant. ("See Magnolia, if you don't learn to be just like me, you'll go to bed unable to lie in bed because you hurt all over.") I didn't like it one bit. And like Professor Bones said he was the one to be teaching me all this, but he never had. Though he never lied to me about his past, he never really attempted to pass on more than he thought necessary for a normal witch to know when she started school either.
To us, my siblings and I, our parents' past was ours to know. Any question, no matter how embarrassing or silly, once asked would be answered. It was how I knew exactly how my father had defeated Lord Voldemort, and Horcruxes and all for, as he explained to my mother, I deserved to know that there was true evil in the world as well as good. It was how I knew about Mum and Uncle Ron and the Relationship That Never Was, for she wanted me to understand some of the reasons for the press' dislike of her. And it was even how I'd come to know about their lives before they went to Hogwarts, and my father's in particular. I didn't tell Rigel but I was the one who'd recognised Dudley Dursley's ex-wife and children when we met them that day in London for just some weeks before my father had taken Milo and me out to see where they lived.
Yet when it came to magic and our education in it he hesitated. Aunt Luna had explained that during the Second War, and in particular his last battle against Voldemort, he'd been touched by Dark Magic, very Dark magic that he did not wish to pass on to us. As a matter of fact he'd been so anxious about it before I was born that he'd gone to some of the most learnéd wizards in the world to determine if it was possible. So far there was nothing wrong with me, except for the Quidditch thing, for which I again blamed my mother, still he must not have been entirely convinced.
Never before had I wished those learnéd wizards had managed to do their jobs.
I was on my way up to the Common Room, determined to have a bath before going down to dinner, when I unexpectedly ran into Camilla and Connor in the hall. They did not see me and for that I was most grateful, for they were in the middle of an argument that this time I could clearly hear. Camilla was saying, or rather nearly yelling, "-you do that? Have you forgotten that you have other things to do? You have detention and no Time-Turner; you can't do three and four things at once!"
"I know that, I know that but you have to understand-"
"Understand what? Do you really think that Rigel could've somehow found out that your father was awake before your mother did and send him an owl, really? Think Connor, you're not stupid, you know he didn't! You just wanted to fight with him, and you know that! Your stupid little feud is doing you more harm than anything he could ever actually do to you!"
There was a moment of silence where Connor seemed to be considering this and then he said, "But he must have told someone... his grandmother...?"
Well, that saved me a difficult conversation, thank you Camilla.
"And you couldn't have deduced that by yourself this morning, before getting yourself detention for a month? How are you going to-?"
All of a sudden someone blew a raspberry behind my ear and sang out, "Spying Potty? Naughty, Naughty, what would your father say?"
Peeves. And as I turned, horrified, pleading with him to stop it and go away, he began to sing louder, "LITTLE MISS POTTER, IS AN EAVESDROPPER, WHO HAS-"
"Langlock!" called Connor, and I turned to him and Camilla, who had come running the moment Peeves first began to sing, warm and red-faced with embarrassment.
Meanwhile behind me Peeves found that he was suddenly speechless and was very furious about it. He at once darted towards Connor, intent on doing some damage, when Camilla raised her wand and called, "Arresto Momentum! Be gone!"
In a flash he vanished and we three were left in the almost quiet hall, staring at each other. And for an awkward moment too we did just that, looking from one to the other in a silence punctuated by the crackling of the torches and the muted sounds of the floors above and below. At last I was the first to speak, apologising, "I am so sorry, I was on my way up to Gryffindor Tower when I saw you and I didn't want to interrupt and I couldn't go back and-"
Camilla cut me off, "It's okay, you can go. Sorry for blocking the hall."
Connor did not look at me, or would not, and I made to go. Then remembering, I stopped and said to Camilla, "Professor Bones said that I was to arrange with you for a time that we can have duelling practice?"
She looked at me momentarily puzzled and then said, "Tomorrow at five, everyday at five, I've got free time then after I've attended to Dad's plants."
"Okay," I replied and turned to go. Once again I stopped though and this time turned to Connor and said, "I'm glad your Dad's okay, and I hope he goes home soon. And your Mum and the baby too, I hope she doesn't have any problems with the baby."
He finally looked at me, but he was not angry, just embarrassed. "Yeah, thanks. She's actually got a month still, according to her doctor. We're going to call her `Zoe Andromeda Lupin'."
I lifted my eyebrows, "Really? Your mother agreed to that?"
"No, I want to call her `Zoe', she said `Andromeda', though I think she was joking so it will probably be `Zoe Cecilia Lupin, for Dad's Mum," he replied. "But if it's a boy, she insists that we will call him Remus John Junior. Both Dad and I are hoping it's a girl."
I stifled a snort, and said, "I like `Zoe' too; it's a nice name, means `life' right?"
"Yeah," he replied.
"That's good to know, I don't know what my name means at all, and since it's a flower, I doubt it has a meaning," I said.
We'd forgotten that we both had somewhere else to be. Camilla didn't, but made no attempt to remind us of this as we stood in the hall talking. As a matter of fact she just leaned against a wall as Connor replied, "It means `Magnol's flower', it was named for a French explorer, and as a flower it symbolises `nobility'. And your middle name, `Ingrid', means `daughter of the hero', so it fits you quite nicely."
"Oh really?" I asked, now blushing. "Do you know what Connor means?"
"`Hound-lover', Mum's idea of a joke. And `Romulus' to match my Dad's `Remus'. Grandma Tonks didn't like it though because she said `Romulus' killed `Remus' in history, but Mum just said she was being melodramatic," he said, laughing.
"Oh, okay," I said, and then looked at Camilla. "What does `Camilla' mean?"
"`Camilla' means `attendant' and `Tegwen' means `beautiful and blessed', but Uncle Neville renamed her and she won't tell me what her original name was," he said.
I looked back at Camilla, "`Camilla' is not your real name?"
She looked slightly upset. "It is my real name; it's just not the name I was born with. Dad changed my name when he adopted me."
"So what was your name?" I asked, innocently.
She did not fall for it. "Like Aunt Tonks doesn't like to be called `Nymphadora', I don't care for my old name. That name died with my parents."
I couldn't leave it alone, I asked, "Why wouldn't you want to be called by the name your parents gave you? All they left you was that, wasn't it? Isn't that all you have?"
I didn't mean it as insensitively as it came out but Camilla interpreted it as such. She said coldly, "If you knew them you'd be glad that that was all they left. I don't remember my mother at all, and I barely remember my father, but from what I can he was... he used to treat me like a little recruit to the Cause, a soldier-in-training towards the Dark Lord's ultimate goal. Yes, my father, my parents were involved with Death Eaters; they believed in the Cause, it was their entire lives. So no I don't care, and no I don't want to tell you what my name was, because, like them, it's dead and gone."
And with that she turned and stormed away down the hall to the stairs. I was left standing with Connor feeling thoroughly ashamed of myself and completely embarrassed. I turned to him and tried to apologise, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...."
He waved it away with a smile, "Don't worry about it. I said the same thing and she slapped me. She knows you didn't mean offence, and in my case my Mum doesn't like her name too so I should've known better."
I didn't believe him, and looked away to the stairs where she'd gone. He continued, "Hey, you want to know what Rigel's name means?"
"What?" I asked.
"It's from the Arabic word for `foot'," he replied with a grin.
I laughed and then my hunger made its presence known with a low rumble. Stumbling through a "Later", I turned at once to head up to the dormitory, but Connor stopped me with a hand, "Hey, where are you going? The Great Hall's this way."
"I know," I said. "But I've got to have a shower first, I smell like Guillaume-er, he doesn't like to bathe... or Milo and Carl for that matter, but...."
To my surprise he suddenly leaned forward and sniffed me, inhaling deeply at my neck. My jaw dropped, but he smiled, "No you don't. Let's go, they're serving roast."
I was not allowed to protest; he took my arm and led me away to the stairs.
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