Eight

Many thanks to my beta, Soul Bound.

Professor McGonagall arranged the mass of papers on her desk into neat piles, scowled at them and rearranged them again. She then sighed heavily, taking off her glasses, and rubbed her eyes wearily. When would Madam Pomfrey come? She had Flooed to the hospital wing as soon as she had been notified of the attack on Hermione and Severus, but a grim faced Madam Pomfrey interceded and blocked her from entering the ward proper to see them. The mediwitch informed her that Hermione had life threatening injuries...whereas Professor Snape had a minor surface wound to his upper arm...before quickly dashing back into the ward through the swinging doors.

It was Monday again tomorrow, and Professor McGonagall looked at the neat, organized piles of work waiting for her. Deciding she should make use of this time in the office, the older witch put her glasses back on, picked up the proposed teaching schedule for next month and started reading. Her eyes moved along the lines of words, but her mind refused to link them up with their meanings, so she slapped the schedule back down again angrily. It was completely futile. When would Shacklebolt arrive anyhow? Sometimes Professor McGonagall wished she had been born in a different time. She would have loved to be an Auror. The physicality of being out amongst everything really appealed to her...much better than being stuck behind a desk at any rate.

A green whoosh of flames lit up the fireplace. Professor McGonagall thankfully stood up and walked around her desk to greet Shacklebolt, who stood dusting the ash off his broad shoulders. At last some accurate information...the gossip around Hogwarts had been running red hot. Shacklebolt was the consummate, discreet professional who would report clearly and concisely. It was for these reasons that she had yanked him and Jones from Ron's investigations. This attack had to be handled carefully and judiciously. It had huge potential to spiral out of control.

'Good evening, Mr. Shacklebolt. Thank you for coming by; please have a seat.' Professor McGonagall indicated a chair at a communal worktable at the center of her large office. She clapped her hands, and two cups of tea appeared before them.

The tall man sat down wearily. 'I came as soon as I finished. Hestia is writing up the report now, and you'll have it on your desk tomorrow morning.'

'Good, thank you.' The professor sat in the chair opposite, placing the ink and parchment tidily in front of her. She looked down at the blank parchment and twirled her quill. 'So, what information do you have?'

After quickly taking a sip of tea, Kingsley spoke evenly and clearly. 'When Hestia and I arrived at Foxton Lane, we found and recovered nine bodies, all males. We identified five of them as known Death Eaters. They operated out of the western cell and had been under surveillance on many occasions. The other three are unknowns, so we are running wand checks right now to find out their identities. We need to know if they have any links to the western cell division.' The Auror hesitated, then added, 'There may be one other.'

Professor McGonagall looked up with raised eyebrows from her note taking, her quill poised mid air

'We had just finished the investigation when a Muggle police car drove up the lane quickly. We heard more noises of Muggles and cars, so Hestia and I went to investigate. All the commotion was coming from a nearby farmhouse, which is about ten minutes from Foxton Lane. The place was swarming with Muggles, and there was a body covered with a white sheet, but we couldn't detect any traces of magic within the immediate vicinity. The Muggles were highly agitated, so it was difficult for us to investigate further.'

Professor McGonagall stared into the middle distance and said thoughtfully, 'No, it's too much of a coincidence. I would like you to monitor all the Muggle newspapers from that area. We need to find out more information to see if the incidents are linked.'

Kingsley nodded, his gold earring glinting in the candlelight. He then frowned and rubbed his chin. ' You need to be aware also, Headmistress, that the causes of death were ... unusual. Five had been killed with a standard killing curse that traced back to the Professor Snape.' He paused, then, shaking his head, declared quietly, 'But four were killed by some curse or hex I have never encountered before.'

Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows in surprise.

'They are so unlike anything I have seen. I couldn't even say if it was magic.'

Professor McGonagall tapped her polished fingernail in thought and asked, 'How did they die? Was it some sort of new Muggle method?'

'No, I wouldn't say that either. Two of them looked as if they had exploded from the inside out. At first I thought they had been hit by something a Muggle would use like a hand grenade, but on examining the remains that were left, it wasn't consistent with that possibility.' Kingsley added frankly, 'It was a gruesome sight.'

The professor was surprised at his comment. The man sitting in front of her was a veteran Auror whose very line of work exposed him to the uglier sides of wizarding life in all its gruesome glory.

'The third body's physical symptoms indicated the cause of death as suffocation, but again, we couldn't find any traces of known magic nor any physical evidence. And finally, the fourth body seemed to have suffered some sort of cardiac arrest.'

He looked at Professor McGonagall directly, the whites of his eyes standing out in the low light. 'Miss Granger seems to have some unique abilities.'

'Ah, yes, it does appear that way,' the professor replied mildly, but inwardly lurched at the shock of what Hermione was capable of.

Just then Harry came bursting through the door without knocking, his brow furrowed. Both the professor and Shacklebolt looked up, momentarily startled at the sudden noise.

'Oh, Shacklebolt, I hadn't realize you were here...good to see you.' Harry's expression changed in an instance. Smiling, the young wizard strode up to him and pumped his hand energetically.

'Nice to see you too, Harry. Well, professor, I'll take my leave now. The report will be on your desk tomorrow, but I'm available if you want to talk more.'

Professor McGonagall said a silent thanks to Kingsley and his discretion in front of Harry. She nodded her gratitude and walked the tall wizard to the fireplace where he disappeared in a whoosh of flames. The professor breathed in deeply before she turned to face Harry, who was pacing the length of her office, running an agitated hand through his hair.

'Have you heard any more news?' he questioned anxiously, collapsing dramatically into the chair in front of her desk.

The professor calmly collected her notes from the worktable and sat down behind her desk. 'Nothing yet. Madam Pomfrey will be up the moment she can to let me know Hermione's progress.'

'Isn't it time you actually do something, Professor?' Harry's eyes were flashing.

'What exactly do you mean by that, Mr. Potter?' she asked, her tone as cold as steel. How dare he question her.

Harry swallowed nervously. 'Well, about Snape? I mean, there is an another attack only days after Ron. Hermione's seriously injured, and he has nothing more than a scratch... It sounds highly suspicious to me.'

'You do mean Professor Snape, don't you?'

Harry flushed and nodded, but his eyes were still burning angrily.

'I quite assure you, Mr. Potter, that if I had any suspicions about Professor Snape, you would be the first to know. Right now the Order is stretched to capacity investigating two attacks in less than a week, so I suggest you keep any personal issues you may have with Professor Snape to yourself. I do not have the time or the inclination to listen to any more of them.'

The young wizard dropped his eyes and started picking at his fingernails despondently.

With a twang, Professor McGonagall felt sorry for the complex young man in front of her and offered in a much softer tone, 'As soon as I know anything more about Hermione, I will let you know immediately.'

Harry looked up; his eyes were shinning with unshed tears. 'I went over to the hospital wing, but they wouldn't even let me in to see her.'

'They are not letting anyone in, Mr. Potter. They did not let me in either. It is so they can concentrate on working on Hermione. She is in the best possible hands, and I have full confidence that they will be able to help her.'

'Yeah, I know, but what if she dies like Ron? It's something nobody wants to talk about, but I know Hermione was badly hurt. Everyone is talking about it. I feel so useless, so helpless. There seems to be nothing I can do. Everybody else is out actually doing things...making a difference...and all I do is sit here nice and safe behind the wards while my friends are getting attacked and killed because of me.'

Professor McGonagall weighed her words carefully. 'I know it must feel that way, Mr. Potter, but you do make a difference. I listened to you at Ron's service, and you truly moved me, and I know you touched everyone there in a significant way.' She saw Harry wanted to interrupt and held up her hand. ' I know you are going to say that they are only words...but you must believe me when I say words can mean everything when said at the right time. All we can do is leave Madam Pomfrey be so she can concentrate on healing Hermione. She is the only one who can do that. Like you, I am waiting on what she can do.' The older witch saw Harry's leg jiggling in suppressed agitation and tried to steer the conversation towards his studies. Harry took his apprenticeship very seriously, and she knew it gave him a sense of purpose and achievement that was vital to his well being. 'How is your reading coming along? Have you finished McKernal's works yet?'

Harry's leg stilled and his brow furrowed. 'Yes, but I'm still unsure about some of the physiological calculations he wrote about. I didn't find it very clear, and I need to write on it this week.'

The professor let out a quiet sigh of relief that he changed topic so readily. 'I agree. I think that was his one area of weakness. It's good that you picked that up. What you need to read now is Adam's work on Inanimate and Animate Conversions and Calculations; that's the area he excels in. I have a copy of it here if you want to borrow it now?'

'That would be wonderful, Professor. I need to get a better understanding of the underlying principles, and McKernal just confused me further.'

'I will just be a moment.' Professor McGonagall lifted a nearby lantern and went to the back of her office, which was lined with floor to ceiling bookcases all in shadow. She lifted the lantern so that it cast a wider circle of light and spotted the book on the top shelf. As the professor was moving the nearby step ladder, she heard the door opening and Harry's voice snarl, 'You traitor.'

And Severus' deep voice replying, 'And a pleasant good evening to you, Mr. Potter. I see you are being as useful and effective as ever, sitting and relaxing while others are out actually achieving things for the Order.'

Professor McGonagall groaned...trust Severus to go for the jugular...and swiftly hopped up the ladder, grabbing the book. She needed to intercede as fast as she could; she rather liked her office as it was...intact.

'I know all about you, Snape. Your days are numbered.'

'Goodness me, I am positively quaking with fear. The Great Harry Potter has spoken,' Severus drawled.

Professor McGonagall moved quickly to the front of her office in time to see Harry reach for his wand. 'That will do, Mr. Potter,' she barked out.

A red faced Harry looked over at her scowling, but lowered his wand. She fixed her eyes firmly on Harry's. 'Here is the Adam's book; I suggest you go and read it. I will be in my office all day tomorrow should you want to discuss it.' The Headmistress handed him the book and led him by the elbow to the door. 'As soon as I hear anything, Mr. Potter, I will inform you immediately.'

Harry nodded and left.

When the door closed, Professor McGonagall let out a sigh and turned to see Severus standing still and upright next to the fireplace. 'You do understand, don't you, Severus, that you do not make my job any easier.' All she got was an irritated grunt, which was all she had expected.

The witch grabbed fresh parchment, a bottle of ink and a quill from her desk and sat down again at the worktable. Severus moved soundlessly across the room and sat down opposite her. As always, she treated the man in front of her with a great deal of caution. His face looked more drawn than normal, but nothing in his movements indicated he was hurt.

'Madame Pomfrey informed me that your arm had been injured.'

Severus waved a hand dismissively at his upper left arm. 'Virtually healed now...a simple hex wound.'

Professor McGonagall dipped her quill into the ink. 'So tell me what...'

But she was interrupted by a flushed-cheeked Madam Pomfrey coming rapidly into the room. Did nobody know about knocking around here? Professor McGonagall thought irritably.

'Thank goodness you are here too, Professor Snape. I need to talk to you both about Hermione.'

Professor McGonagall's heart sank, and she quickly gestured for the mediwitch to sit with them. 'What is it? Is she all right?

The plump woman quickly glanced at the only other chair next to the black robed wizard, hesitated, then sat down next to Severus with a frown, edging her chair away from him. 'I'm having difficulties stabilizing her. It's all highly irregular. She's not responding to any of the healing treatments or potions. I've never encountered anything like it. Norah is monitoring her now.'

Professor McGonagall saw Severus frown, making his features even harsher, and he drummed his fingers on the table, his sharp eyes fixed on the table in front of him.

'Is she responding at all to any of the treatments? And if so, how?' he asked abruptly, his eyes still on the table.

'Yes, but not in the usual way. The simple wound healing charms have caused her wounds to fester, and the standard anti-infection potion isn't having any effect. I don't dare treat the curse wound eating into her back for fear of what might happen. She needs to be stronger before it can be treated,' replied Madam Pomfrey, avoiding looking at the wizard.

'What are her vital signs like?' Severus turned and looked sharply at the small woman.

The mediwitch shifted uneasily in her seat. 'Highly erratic...but she's fighting strongly. I would appreciate it, Professor Snape, if you could come and cast your opinion. I am at a loss to know what to do, but the back wound needs treating urgently.'

Severus nodded slowly, his gaze still fixed on her. Madam Pomfrey made to stand but stopped when Severus started speaking in a low voice, his eyes back gazing intently at the table in front of him. 'I think there is information about Miss Granger that given the circumstances is imperative that I must impart.'

Professor McGonagall was instantly curious. What could Severus, of all people, know about Hermione that she did not? Although, she had been surprised when he had volunteered readily to accompany Hermione, but she had not given much thought to it, so relieved she was at finding someone at such short notice. And last night...was it only last night?...she'd found them sitting together at the Burrow. Nobody ever sat next to Severus voluntarily. How interesting.

'But first you must understand that I will only tell you things that are pertinent to the immediate situation...do not question me further. As it is, I am informing you both of things that by rights Miss Granger may not agree with you knowing. So your utmost discretion is required.'

Professor McGonagall nodded and saw curiosity written all over the mediwitch's face as she too nodded in agreement. Severus adjusted his teaching robes on his shoulders and cleared his throat, which after knowing him for almost all his adult life, told her that he was nervous. How intriguing...it was not an emotion she often observed in the Potions master.

'As you are aware, Miss Granger has been living and studying in the south, but what you probably are not aware of are the vastly different and complex magics and traditions that permeate the area. Now, Miss Granger has practiced these magics at some of the deepest levels. How I interpret the current situation is that there is a conflict between Miss Granger and the type of magic used here. That is why the standard treatments are not working as they should.'

'Please explain some more, Severus. What do you mean there is a 'conflict'? I have never heard of that before.' Professor McGonagall looked at him piercingly.

The wizard flicked his eyes to hers. Even after years of being around the man, the Headmistress still found his cold gaze disconcerting, and it took all her will power not to look away.

'Miss Granger must be completely immersed in one of the many possible types of southern magic which is resistant or more likely in conflict with the type of magic used here.'

Professor McGonagall carefully weighed up the situation. Although the man sitting opposite her was grimly repellant, his redeeming features, which she often had to regularly keep reminding herself about, were his intellectual might and his ability to give the correct information at the right time. The fact that he chose to reveal what he knew about Hermione and risk raising interesting questions in both her and Madam Pomfrey's mind about him meant that he considered it consequential enough to take that risk.

'I've never heard of any of this before,' Madam Pomfrey said with a huff, 'and I've seen many different things in my time...different magic in conflict, indeed.'

'You had better believe it if you don't want another death on your capable little hands,' he snapped. The mediwitch flushed deeper.

Professor McGonagall quickly interceded. 'What do you suggest can be done for Hermione?'

'I have never had direct experience with this, but I do believe knowing the underlying reason will help us to formulate an appropriate approach.' Severus replied with only a hint of irritation.

'But how can it be possible? In all my years as a mediwitch, I've never seen, read or even heard of a 'conflict of magic' or whatever you want to call it. Why should we believe you?' challenged the plucky mediwitch.

Professor McGonagall suppressed a groan. It was all so predictable. Madam Pomfrey would do a bit of blustering and try perhaps to aim a few jabs at Severus, who may or may not explode, and then eventually accede to him. She only hoped it would not take too long or would not be too volatile.

Severus' lip curled in contempt. 'Tell me what choice you have? I know that the curse on her back is further weakening her as we speak. So please take your time at getting your tiny little mind around the idea that there may be traditions other than your oh-so-perfect one which might provide the answers. So please, Madam Pomfrey, there is absolutely no hurry. Or better yet, you tell me your ideas, as I am sure that was what you were rushing into this room to do, and you have got plenty of them.'

The mediwitch flushed and opened her mouth to reply, but Professor McGonagall quickly asked, 'What suggestions do you have, Severus?'

'Given we do not have access to the magic Hermione is accustomed to, we may have to borrow from some of the Muggle methods,' replied Severus in a controlled way,

Madam Pomfrey looked startled and blurted out, 'Oh, Merlin, their barbaric ways! I have no knowledge at all of their ghastly procedures.'

Severus rolled his eyes contemptuously at the woman. 'And why am I not surprised? Would not want to break out now, would we?' Then, as if pulling himself into check, he pointed out slowly and clearly as if talking to a very young child, 'Muggles do not use magic, which is good. We cannot use magic on Miss Granger.' He let out an irritated sigh and looked at the Professor. 'I have Muggle medical textbooks that I can check on, and the more conservative aspects of Potions, which don't use any magic, could be used as well.'

The mediwitch shrugged her shoulder in resignation. 'I do believe this is the only path we have left for Hermione, which is more than what I had when I came in. And I suppose I did ask for your opinion, Professor Snape. I have no alternatives but to give these new methods a try, but I do hold grave concerns about it all.'

That was not too bad, thought the Headmistress, and she had to respect the mediwitch's ability to put her patient's needs first, even above her own prejudices and pride. She saw a muscle twitch in Severus' clenched jaw and knew that the wizard was restraining himself as well. He too must want Madam Pomfrey to quickly accept the situation; otherwise he would not have contained his temper as he had.

'I'll come down and see her now.' He stood up fluidly, tall next to the small witch.

The witch and wizard nodded their distracted farewell to Professor McGonagall and exited the room rapidly.

The Professor slowly picked up her parchments and wandered over to her desk and started to file them. What an interesting evening...Severus actually revealing something about himself. In all her years of knowing and working with the wizard, he never once let slip his knowledge of the south nor had Albus even hinted at what Severus knew. Maybe the former Headmaster had not known either, which would be surprising to say the least. As far as the witch knew, Severus was as disdainful about the south as everyone else. Although, she reasoned, he was very quick to be disdainful and contemptuous of most things.

But he certainly had an in-depth knowledge to recognize Hermione's symptoms as he did, and he was correct about the complex traditions; it was something northern witches and wizards knew nothing about. In fact, most witches and wizards she knew had a generic view that it was a poor, dysfunctional area with loose morals. Mind, she had been exactly the same until Anthena fell in love and eloped there to the scandal of entire wizarding community. Professor McGonagall flung her quills and ink into the drawer of her desk. What a mess that was...but there was no way she was going to abandon her sister, despite the huge pressure and isolation she had to endure. Anyway, as it turned out, Anthena never once regretted her decision, and Tonga was a good man in every way to her. The professor lifted the lantern and casually extinguished the remaining candles with the flick of her wand. It was certainly was a fascinating evening, she thought and closed the office door with a click, warded it and made her way slowly up the corridor.