Frustrated by Fleur

From that day on and for a period of time, nothing exciting actually happened. Celena's lessons went on as usual, she carved times to meet her parents and Uncle Remus and his family, and during one particularly leisurely, stress-free weekend, she even had time to travel to London and meet Fleur for a shopping spree and a few drinks in the Diagon Alley. Fleur, whose social life was much richer than Celena's, thanks to her own beauty and her famous husband Bill Weasley, saw Timothy at several gatherings, always accompanied by Alexa Douglas. Usually very courteous, Fleur refused to speak to him and blatantly ignored him, pretending he doesn't exist, when he made an attempt to greet her.
- Eet eez outrageous, - she said to Celena while they were sitting over their drinks in The Leaky Cauldron, a pile of shopping bags carelessly tucked under their table, - 'E 'as let Alexa's father buy 'im! 'E eez ready to be enslaved just to 'ave an eezy life…
- Drop it, Fleur, - Celena waved a dismissive hand and took a sip from her Gillywater. As two extremely pretty and well-dressed young witches sitting on their own, she and Fleur attracted a good deal of admiring glances from wizards who were passing by, but Celena pretended not to notice. Every man with an ardent gaze and manly, cleanly shaved jaw seemed to her like a twin of Timothy. – He's a prat, and if he's capable of selling himself to get an easy position in a cauldron-making company, I'm better off to have discovered this before I actually married him.
But Fleur pressed on.
- Ma chérie, - she said, resting her chain on one of her elegantly gloved hands, - 'E eez not worth ze ground you walk on, but 'ave you ever stopped to theenk what 'e made you look like? Are you aware of ze fact zat eet looks like 'e ditched you – and actually 'e 'as?
- I'm sure there are people who simply love savoring this situation, but why don't they stick their stupid gossip up their –
- Non, chérie, non! – Fleur cried out, looking scandalized, and shot a look around her, making sure no one heard Celena, - surely you don't meen zat! What you need eez to be seen weez a nice young man, to dispel ze rumors zat you are alone and desperate!
- Oh, don't be silly, I might be alone but I'm certainly not - Celena started, but by the familiar determined look on Fleur's face, she realized her best friend wasn't just expressing a theoretical idea, - Fleur! – Celena demanded, - you haven't already set me up on a date, have you? Have you?
Fleur didn't bother to answer. She glanced at her watch, then turned around to look at the bar's entrance, and a gracious smile spread over her lips. Celena, who was sitting across her, couldn't help but see the man who walked in.
Well, it wasn't as bad as it could be, she told herself, when she saw the kind, freckled face, broad shoulders and unchanging travel robes of Bill's brother, Charlie Weasley. She was introduced to Charlie at Fleur's wedding and found him quite nice, but she would rather be somewhere less crowded than The Leaky Cauldron, which was undoubtedly chosen deliberately by Fleur; she would have preferred for Fleur to stay, too, instead of hastily shaking Charlie's hand, kissing Celena on the cheek and vanishing with a satisfied giggle.
- Do you remember me, Miss Costello? – Charlie asked, taking the seat that was previously occupied by Fleur, - we met at my brother's wedding –
- Oh, sure. You can call me Celena…
- I know this is all very stupid, - he said after a small pause, during which he ordered a large flagon of mead and some roast beef with mashed potatoes for both of them, - but Fleur isn't someone to be argued with, and you should look at the positive side – it could have been Percy…
- Oh? – Celena nearly choked on her drink, - surely Fleur wouldn't..? – She has met the third Weasley brother too, and his manner, although improved a lot lately but still dull and snappish, seemed out of place in his nice, warm, close-knit family. But at least they were all on speaking terms again, after a long period of total estrangement.
- Oh yes. Fleur said we can arrange this between us, and she doesn't care who it is, but one of us will have to go. We tried appealing to Bill, but he just said you are lucky Fleur didn't think of asking Fred or George – or both of them. So eventually, I took pity on you, - he said with a wink and broad grin, which Celena gratefully returned.
- Oh, Fleur at her best, - Celena was annoyed, but couldn't help laughing at the same time, - but if we are already here, I'll try not to be too unpleasant company.
So they ate heartily, and it wasn't so bad really. There were many common acquaintances so that the conversation didn't stop, and eventually the talk turned to Charlie's work and the different sorts of strange beasts and people he encountered thanks to his position as Dragon-trainer and traveling all around the world.
- I love the different races, - he told Celena, - goblins and centaurs and gargoyles… by the way, has everything been quiet since that night? I've heard all about it from your uncle, - he explained.
- Yes, fortunately – I've seen Goliath a few times since that happened and he told me they are more careful now. Move only in packs… Charlie, - she stopped, struck by a sudden wave of inspiration, - I know you and my uncle have an idea about who could be Angela's attacker…
At first, she thought Charlie wouldn't speak, despite the softening influence of his third drink, but then he leaned forward and whispered:
- Angela was Petrified, no doubt about that. But it wasn't a regular, wand-made spell, or we could have revived her in a much easier way. It was, as we guess, powerful magic of some non-wizard, part-human species. I'll tell you more – the Ord- your uncle, I mean, thinks it was done as a warning – a very grim warning – by someone who has a feeling of deep loathing for the gargoyles, and especially Wyvern clan.
- Oh, come on, - Celena started from his scarred, burned hands to his clear grey eyes under slightly singed eyebrows, - I know my uncle and I'm sure his guess was more particular. You want me to think you don't know anything, Charlie? I'll find out anyway, you know…
Charlie was silent for a moment, then leaned closer and said:
- Werewolves.
She almost had to read his lips. She opened her mouth, closed it, and frowned:
- Oh, Charlie… - she shook her head, - if it's true, this is really serious… werewolves were really quiet since the Second War ended – and how does it explain the magic performed on Angela? She wasn't bitten, just Petrified.
- That's a part we can't satisfactorily explain either, - admitted Charlie, - however, the Scottish gargoyles and the werewolves waged war on one another ever since the First War, when the gargoyles refused to join You-Know-Who. The gargoyles beat them up roughly more than once or twice, too… so now they have vengeance coming upon them. We won't exclude the possibility that they aren't acting on their own, either.
- It's not all, then, is it? – She inquired, staring anxiously at Charlie's grave face.
- No, - he shook his head, - werewolves aren't a very brave crowd. You know how it was during the two Wars. In the First War, when He Who Must Not Be Named promised them rich rewards and plenty of blood, they became fearless and violent. Then, there was a quiet time while he was gone from power… and during the Second War they were strong again, led by Fenrir Greyback, as you remember.
- He Who Must Not Be Named is gone, - Celena paused, - and so is Fenrir Greyback.
She wanted to sound determined, but there was a lingering trace of a question in her voice.
Charlie looked around nervously. The bar was packed, but this was exactly what made it safer – nobody bothered to listen to them. He leaned closer.
- They are gone, no doubt, - he said, fiddling two big, short-nailed thumbs together, - but it doesn't mean they left nothing behind.
- The Horcruxes were destroyed, - said Celena, - it is known. Same goes for many other Dark artifacts, and even though some might have remained…
- I should have said "no one".
- His supporters? But they have no one to follow. No master to serve.
- I speak, - Charlie said softly, - of a son.
Celena gaped at him and opened her mouth to speak, but he silenced her firmly, looking anxious:
- I will not say anything more. Too risky. You aren't supposed to know anything at all. Speak with Hagrid – or better, put the whole matter out of your mind.

Quidditch

It cannot be said Celena was indifferent to her fiancé's betrayal, but she didn't experience the hollow, terrible feeling of total loss she thought she was supposed to feel after her initial shock about being betrayed died away. But strangely, she was just sick to her stomach whenever she thought of it, quick to convey her mind to other venues. And even more peculiarly, the excitement of the memorable night when she brewed Reviving Potion for Angela was like balm to her wounds.

Timothy Whitechapple was a brilliant, talented young wizard with a glorious future ahead of him, but maybe he wasn't such a great catch after all, Celena reasoned, if he found it possible to get engaged to another woman without bothering to explain anything first.

Celena didn't read the social column again after that day, so she didn't know whether Timothy already married Alexa. Frankly, she didn't want to know, and she didn't try contacting him either. She didn't want to think what would happen if she received an owl from him one of these days.

She was happy she had enough on her mind to keep her going. Her lessons were becoming more challenging now that her younger students have mastered the basics, and she had plenty of essays to read through and rate every night. She also continued giving private lessons to Dennis Creevey each Monday. She found it pretty much pointless at first, because Dennis almost always achieved top grades for his homework; but during their one-on-one sessions she noticed Dennis was indeed very slow when it came to practical work, although sometimes she almost got the impression he was faking it.

- Now, Dennis, - she said one evening, trying to keep frustration away from the tone of her voice when once again, the Jaded Jelly he was supposed to make looked like a mix of sand and mud, - I know you can do it properly, I saw your work in class today –

- I – I don't always work entirely on my own in class, - Dennis replied, rather guiltily, - sometimes Martin gives me a hand when I'm having a hard time. But I know I need to work on my own.

- Well, then, let's try once ag – Celena started, but at that very moment Dennis knocked his cauldron over and semi-liquid mess splattered the floor.

- You know, Dennis, I think we'll have better luck next Monday, - she said exasperatedly, cleaning up the dirt with one wave of her wand, - tell me the truth, did you prepare for today's lesson at all?

- Not much, - Dennis admitted quietly, avoiding looking at her, and added hurriedly, - I mean, I did a bit… I know it's no excuse, Professor Costello, but we have Quidditch practice four times a week now, and tonight we even skipped dinner to be able to stay longer –

- That explains it, then, - Celena said firmly, - you are just hungry, aren't you? How would you like to have a bite to eat with me, Dennis?

- Thanks a lot, Professor Costello, - he said, the tips of his ears going red, - the truth is that I'm starving. But we won't eat here, right?

- Of course not, - Celena smiled, - Dobby!

The elf appeared out of thin air with a loud "crack".

- You is wanting something, Miss Costello? – Dobby asked in his high-pitched little voice, staring at her adoringly.

- Yes, Dobby… I wondered – could you bring some tea and sandwiches up to my office?

- Dobby will do anything for Miss Costello! – Dobby said, puffing up his hairy chest, - Dobby is hearing about Miss Costello's bravery, and Dobby says, I is always knowing Miss Costello is noble and kind to all creatures!

- If you mean what happened to Angela, Dobby, that was my duty as Master of Potions in this school, - said Celena. She rarely flushed brighter than now. Dennis stifled a little laugh he disguised as a cough; Dobby wore odd socks and three hand-knitted hats, one on top of the other.

- Miss Costello is as humble and modest as she is noble! I'll have your tea brought right away, - he added, bowed so low that his long, pencil-like nose almost touched the floor, and disappeared with another "crack".

- Oh, he's always like that, - Celena shrugged, trying to sound matter-of-fact, - come on, Dennis, or the tea will get cold before we go upstairs.

Dennis only looked up when he finished his fourth sandwich, and Celena was halfway through her buttered crumpet.

- Thanks a lot, Professor Costello, - said Dennis, draining his teacup in one huge gulp. – I wouldn't have lasted until breakfast. We have been training really hard all week.

- Playing against Slytherin next weekend, I've heard? – asked Celena, adding sugar to her tea.

- Yeah, - Dennis brightened, - we'll show them!

- Surely, - Celena smiled, - and even though I'm not supposed to take sides, as a teacher, since this is a private conversation I feel I can tell you I will be definitely supporting Gryffindor. …When Dennis arrived in the common room that night, he found Martin and Melissa doing their homework by the fire. Samantha had already gone up to bed. Both of them had running noses from the long and rainy Quidditch practices they had all week. Dennis was the team's captain and Keeper; both Martin and Melissa played Chasers. Dennis slumped into a comfortable squashy armchair next to his two friends, and stretched his legs with a look of utmost satisfaction on his face.

- Hi there, - said Melissa, - are you hungry? Your brother and his friends were nice enough to save us something from dinner.

- It's awfully sweet of Collin, - Dennis said slowly, the expression of extreme smugness etched all over his features, - but I'm not hungry. I just had tea with Celena.

He was grinning so broadly he didn't even notice Martin blotched his piece of parchment because he was shaking with silent laughter.

- Oh, - said Melissa, raising an eyebrow, - how did your lesson go, then?

- Well, she calls me Dennis now… - he said dreamily.

- Did you get that trick of the Jaded Jelly this time? – asked Martin.

- … And she knows we're playing against Slytherin next week, and she said she will definitely support Gryffindor…

- Of course she will support Gryffindor, - said Melissa, sounding almost as exasperated as Celena not long ago, - I mean, she's alright, isn't she? And she's a friend of Hagrid's.

Dennis suddenly sat very upright in his armchair.

- A friend? A close one? – He demanded.

- Don't be stupid, Dennis, - snapped Martin, - if you asked me, but I know you never will, I'd tell you to drop these ridiculous private lessons and stop calling Professor Costello Celena and knock everything over whenever she's around…

- No, you wait, - Dennis cut across him mid-phrase, a manic gleam in his eyes, - you just wait till you see what I'm planning for Christmas!

…

Melissa Hanson was quite right, of course. Celena, indeed, hoped Gryffindor would win the upcoming Quidditch match because Hagrid was her friend, and because – although, as she kept trying to tell herself, as a teacher she was supposed to be unbiased – she couldn't help disliking most of the Slytherins and tried to avoid being near their Head of House, the hook-nosed, surly Professor Snape, as much as possible.

So next week on Saturday morning, she wrapped a red scarf around her neck and pinned a crimson and gold rosette to the front of her robes, and then went down to the Quidditch pitch with beaming, excited and nervous Hagrid. She noticed about three-quarters of the spectators – nearly everybody who wasn't in Slytherin, in fact – were wearing this or another red garment. They found seats in the front row. Snape was sitting at some distance from them, upright and stiff, wearing green-and-silver gloves and a rosette of matching colors.

Celena was pleased to see the Gryffindor team was clearly better trained – they acted like one being rather than like seven separate minds. Seeker Samantha Gardner was light, agile and speedy and mastered her broom like it was part of her body.

It wasn't that the Slytherin team was bad, either; but it was clear that the two most important people on the team were the two fierce Beaters, Wilkies and Darthy, who swung their clubs menacingly, looking rather like a pair of trolls.

This particular Quidditch game was neither long nor too nerve-wrenching. For about half an hour, the crowd enjoyed watching Martin and Melissa trying to score while dodging the Bludgers aimed at them by the Slytherin Beaters' blows; but the score was only forty-twenty in Gryffindor's favor when Samantha Gardner caught the Snitch and the red and gold crowd erupted in cheers and applause, while the team landed, all of them in a many-armed hug, although the face of Dennis Creevey could have looked happier after such a spectacular win. Samantha was patted by everyone on the back, Hagrid cheered louder than anyone, Celena clapped until she couldn't feel her hands anymore – the first Quidditch game she watched in many years! Snape looked more unpleasant than ever. When Celena passed by him, she distinctly heard him saying to the Slytherin Seeker: "Pathetic, Davenport, you had it right under your nose!"

… - She could have caught the Snitch some minutes later, - murmured Dennis as he walked back to the castle with Martin and Melissa, Samantha lingering behind in her circle of fervent admirers, - I mean, we all know Samantha's brilliant, but I didn't even have the chance to save anything.

- You're raving, mate, - Martin said seriously, - even if Samantha knew what this was all about, she would never risk losing a game just so you could impress Celena…

An Eventful Night

There were more courses than usual at the Halloween feast, but Celena hardly ate anything until the puddings appeared. Then she got a grip on herself and ate three large portions of chocolate tart. She didn't feel hungry, but there was something comforting in the warm, rich savor. Suddenly she wished she were home.
After the last morsels of food disappeared, the plates and goblets were left sparkling clean again, the candles were extinguished and the students headed for their common rooms, Celena followed Lupin and Hagrid to the oak front doors.
- Are yeh comin' with us, Celena? – Hagrid asked. Lupin opened his mouth, about to reproach him, then looked at Celena, still shaken and miserable, and his expression softened.
- Alright, - he said briskly, - come along. Don't expect anything too exciting, though.
A part of her wanted to crawl under the warm blankets in her bedchamber; but she wasn't particularly sleepy yet, and felt revulsion when she thought about Timothy's note, still folded under her pillow. So she followed them through the chilly evening mist.
They walked down the familiar narrow, dark path in the Forbidden Forest, illuminated only by the thin beams of light issuing from the tips of their wands. It was a cold night, starless and cloudy, and there was a feeling in the air it could start raining any minute.
They reached the familiar clearing, expecting to see Goliath and perhaps a few others. But to Celena's surprise, there was a large commotion, more gargoyles than she has ever seen at once, crowded around the middle of the clearing, Goliath's massive, tall figure towering above them all, anxiety etched in every feature of his powerful, usually calm face. When Celena, Lupin and Hagrid approached, the gargoyles noticed them and parted, allowing them to see what the commotion was all about.
Celena recognized her at once. It was a female gargoyle with long, black, braided hair, lavender skin and a thin, feminine silhouette – Angela. She was sprawled on the ground, stiff as a board, her unseeing eyes wide-open and glassy. Demona was kneeling beside her, her face tear-stricken, pale and without its usual signs of malice. Lupin and Hagrid exchanged a worried glance as they, too, kneeled to examine Angela's unbending limbs.
- Hurry, friends, - Goliath called out to them, - I was about to go and look for Hagrid. We don't know who or what did this to her, or how it happened. She was found on the outskirts of Hogsmeade.
- She is alive, - said Lupin finally, peering into Angela's stony face. Demona shot one look at him, gasped for breath and buried her face in her hands, trembling with suppressed sobs, not noticing Goliath's heavy arm on her shoulders.
Lupin lightly tapped Angela's arm with his wand and said "Ennervate!"; everybody held their breath for a second, but nothing happened. Angela continued lying motionlessly on the ground.
- Either she hasn' bin petrified, or the spell doesn' work the same way on gargoyles, - suggested Hagrid.
- It's very dangerous, - said Lupin, looking very somber as he met Goliath's eyes, - we mustn't let her meet the dawn in this state. We can't know for sure what will happen if she does. No, Goliath, it's better not to move her again. I think there is one thing we could try, though. We have a superb, highly qualified Potion-maker here. I believe you can make Reviving Potion, Celena?
The Reviving Potion, the complex, incredibly powerful solution that served her in so many times of unrecognizable maladies in the time when she worked at St. Mungo's! She remembered how to make it, of course, even now ingredients and measurements were quickly running through her brain, but –
- I can, but I don't have Liquid Moonlight! – Celena cried desperately, wringing her hands.
- Snape has Liquid Moonlight, I'm sure o' that, - said Hagrid, - he kept lots o' rare ingredients to himself.
- Well, there's only one thing we can do, then, - said Lupin. – Celena, you must go to the castle immediately and ask Professor Snape to give you what we need, or take it from him by force, it doesn't matter right now, there's no time to waste – Hagrid will go with you and I will stay here with this lot –
Celena was about to open her mouth and tell her uncle what she thinks, even now, about he prospective of having to take anything from Snape by force, when she heard a clear, ringing voice:
- I'll go with you. – A graceful, beautiful creature unlike anyone Celena had ever seen before, stepped out into the clearing; a tall centauress, with a palomino body and a milk-white torso of a woman, half-concealed by a roughspun tunic. She had blonde hair and startlingly, blindingly blue eyes.
- Already heard, haven' yeh? – Asked Hagrid, unsurprised.
- I'm Olrun, - she said to Celena, - Firenze's sister. Come. I'll walk with you to the castle. One shouldn't walk alone on a night like this. Hagrid can stay – it'll be faster for just the two of us.
Celena accepted the offer gratefully, anxious to get to the castle as soon as possible, which wouldn't happen with Hagrid tearing through the brambles. She wondered whether Olrun would offer her to ride on her back, but she didn't. Perhaps the dignity of centaurs doesn't allow it even in situations like that. As they walked – or rather, Olrun walked gracefully and Celena trotted alongside her, until the clearing was blocked from view or voice – Olrun inclined her beautiful head to Celena and said:
- I think we should send and envoy up to the school before we get there, Celena Costello.
She was looking straight at Celena with that penetrating blue gaze of hers. Celena started back for a few seconds.
- Oh, right, - she said softly.
And then, she did something very strange. She opened her mouth, but no words came out of it. It sounded like a rustle of leaves on a quiet summer night. And at that very moment, a creature jumped onto Celena's arm out of the nearest tree. It was a small creature who looked like a bit of tree himself, but also like a small, bearded man with twigs for legs and arms. By knowledgeable wizards, it would be recognized as a Bowtruckle.
Celena said something to him in that same peculiar rustle, and he jumped from her arm back to the branches of the nearest tree, then propelled himself over to the next one, and the one after next, swiftly advancing towards the castle.
Celena and Olrun followed as quickly as they could – or at least, Celena almost ran, panting, while Olrun just took quick, wide steps in a graceful and dignified way. When they reached the oak front doors, Olrun said:
- I will wait for you here, - and remained standing, shuffling her hooves, while Celena went through the doors, crossed the Entrance Hall, and hurried in the direction of Snape's office.
She had never been in his office before, but she knew where it was supposed to be. Even though Snape stopped teaching potions and his Defence against the Dark Arts classes were held several floors about, he didn't move his office and quarters from the dungeons. Celena was, in fact, quite happy she didn't have to inherit it, because she still found the dungeons somewhat unwelcoming, despite all the changes. She also knew the common room of Snape's house, Slytherin, must be somewhere around too, but she could never guess which one of the dark corridors might lead to it.
Finally, breathing heavily, her hair a messy tangle, she came to a halt in front of a plain, old, heavy black door that bore a tarnished silver plate saying, "Professor S. Snape". Unable to think of a visit that would be less welcome, she raised a hand and knocked so vigorously she hurt her knuckles.
The door opened very abruptly. Snape towered over her, tall and bat-like, wearing emerald green pajamas and a silk black robe over them, but clearly wide awake.
- Professor Costello. What do I owe the pleasure to? – He asked coldly.
- Evening, Professor Snape, - Celena said hastily, trying to steady her breath, - no time to explain – I need some Liquid Moonlight, it's urgent –
With a sinking, horrible sensation at the pit of her stomach, she saw how very little impact her words made on him. He just stood there, with no inclination to move. Meanwhile, in the Forbidden Forest, Angela was running out of precious time.
- I should make it clear, Professor Costello, - said Snape, - that I never said I have any Liquid Moonlight. And even if I did, it would be a very small stock – a very limited stock – and I wouldn't be too quick to part with it.
Now Celena was sure he had it, but Snape was clearly enjoying this display of authority. Should she just hex him and explain later?
- Listen, it's a matter of life and death! – She said anxiously. – I need to prepare a Reviving Potion –
- For whom? – Snape interrupted icily.
Celena felt a surge of anger. Does it matter who is in mortal danger? And then she remembered Snape didn't want the gargoyles in Hogwarts at the first place…
- Someone's badly hurt. In the Forbidden Forest. There's no time to waste, Professor Snape, please –
- Who? – Snape repeated, clearly basking in the glow of his superiority, - because if it's a centaur or a gnome or some other half-breed, I must tell you I really couldn't care less…
Celena was about to panic. She half made her mind to point her wand at Snape, force him to give her the liquid, and justify herself later. But at that moment the door opened and Professor McGonagall came in. The Bowtruckle Celena sent to the castle earlier was sitting on her shoulder.
- What's going on, Celena? – She asked. – I got your message and I've been looking for you everywhere. It's lucky I heard voices. What happened?
Oh, thank goodness, Celena thought with an enormous rush of gratitude. She felt as though she swallowed a mug of hot Butterbeer in one go.
- I need Liquid Moonlight to make a Reviving Potion, Minerva, - Celena said, - it's urgent. One of the gargoyles looks like she was, and we cannot think of another possible way to revive her before the break of dawn.
- Which one? – Professor McGonagall asked.
- It's the chief's daughter, Angela.
- Then let us not waste any more time, - said Professor McGonagall. – Severus, I know you always have some Liquid Moonlight. I am sure you will give your full assistance. Now, if you excuse me, I must go and send and owl to the Ministry about this.
And she left.
- Oh, very well, - snapped Snape. Dislike etched in every feature of his face, he reached to one of the upper shelves. As he did it, the sleeves of his robe fell down and Celena couldn't hold a gasp that left her mouth involuntarily.
On Snape's left forearm, she saw what looked like a small, black tattoo. It was rather pale and blurred, but Celena recognized it at once. It was –
- Yes. – Snape said calmly, slowly, contemplating the skull-like shape on his forearm, and seeing Celena's expression of horror and shock. – The Dark Mark.
He thrust a small glass phial into Celena's hand.
No, this can't be, Celena thought. Sure, she thought Professor Snape was rather unpleasant, he was always biased in favor of the Slytherins and the walls of his office were covered with many jars containing ugly, slimy things and Dark artifacts, but from there to being –
- A Death Eater? – Whispered Celena, feeling her knees weaken.
- You said there was no time to waste, Professor Costello, - he said, piercing her with those cold, black, glittering eyes of his.
Celena pressed her fingers tight around the small phial and literally ran for it.
No, there wasn't any time to waste, of course. The Reviving Potion was to be made as quickly and accurately as possible, and Celena wasn't even sure if it was ever tried on a gargoyle. There wasn't anything else she could think of doing for Angela, though, so she hurried to her office and brewed and stirred and mixed fervently, adding ingredients with shaky hands and eventually stabbing her forefinger with a sharp needle, to let a drop of her blood fall into the potion, which turned instantly to a dark, greenish shade and gave off a strong smell of weeds. She made a cauldronful, and it was more than enough. She scooped it all into a large bottle, corked it tightly, and ran into the Forest again, accompanied by Olrun, in a hurry to add one last remaining ingredient – a hair from Angela's head.
It was nearly midnight. The gargoyles, her uncle and Hagrid all formed a dense circle around Angela, who was still lying as motionless and unfeeling as she was when Celena left; unaware of anything that was happening around her. Upon noticing Celena, everyone stepped away, looking grim and pale. Celena knelt beside the unconscious Angela, pulled out one of her thick, shiny black hairs and lowered it into the bottle, which she uncorked. Instantly, the potion inside it became indistinguishable from clear, fresh water. Only its smell lingered, setting it apart from Veritaserum, which has no odor at all. Celena carefully raised Angela's head and forced some potion through her tightly pressed lips.
For a few horrible moments, she was sure it didn't work. But then Angela coughed and opened her eyes.
- What was it? – She asked weakly. - I… I have never felt this horrible…
Her normally lavender skin was now a pale, grayish shade. Celena, Hagrid and Lupin exchanged disappointed looks. They hoped Angela would tell them who or what attacked her. The other gargoyles were looking extremely relieved, though; Demona was supporting Angela, helping her stand; Olrun the centauress was stroking her back.
- Someone is after us, - Demona said. Her fists were clenched and her eyes were gleaming white with fury, like a Thestral's. – It's fortunate we happened to be near those who give us shelter and aid us, but it doesn't bring us any nearer to finding the source of this evil.
- Among the few statements of yours I can agree with, Demona, - Olrun said rather stiffly. For a second, they glared at each other. Then Demona turned away and her eyes became again their usual black. Those eyes reminded Celena of something else she saw earlier, and she walked straight to her uncle, who was deep in a hushed and hurried conversation with Goliath, on whose shoulder his daughter was now leaning, exhausted. They stopped talking abruptly when Celena approached.
- I will never forget this, - said Goliath, looking down at her, his eyes sparkling with what she would think to be tears if she could believe it, - we are indebted to you forever. We will double our vigilance. We will find the culprit, eventually – but it would all be worth nothing to me if my daughter couldn't be saved.
For a moment it looked as though he wanted to hug her, but then he thought better of it and squeezed her hand instead – or rather, her arm. His steely fingers were powerful, it was obvious he could easily crush her bones if he wanted to, and Celena didn't envy the reckless creature that got itself on his wrong side. He threw a protective wing over his wife and daughter and steered them away.
- Rather sensitive for a gargoyle, isn't he? – Lupin said, smiling.
- Uncle Remus, - started Celena off the bat, getting hold of the sleeve of his robes and whispering straight in his ear, - did you know Severus Snape used to be a Death Eater?
Lupin stared at her for a long second, with a mixture of puzzlement and alarm on his face.
- You mean, you didn't know? – He shook his head in disbelief, - but yes… it was such a long time ago… and you spending all those years away in France…
- I had absolutely no idea, - Celena continued quickly and quietly, - I mean, I knew from the start he's a nasty piece of work, but I could never guess he has a –
- Listen, - Lupin said firmly, - just put that out of your mind, alright? I don't like Snape any more than you do. But this isn't anything you should trouble yourself about. A lot can be said about Snape, but he is on our side. Trust me. Right now, we have more pressing matters to deal with.
He sounds so certain, thought Celena. How come?
- Yes, - she said, - what did you come here for in the first place, uncle? You said you had something to discuss with Goliath?
- Oh, don't bother; - Lupin waved a weary hand, suddenly looking more tired than ever. – I had a guess of two about their supposed persecutor – or I thought I had, before tonight's attack. I can't know if the attacked targeted at them in the first place, or – and this worries me even more – someone who was trying to break into Hogwarts for some reason. In any case, I told Goliath to assemble his folk in twos and threes on their patrols, and to forbid them to go alone like Angela did tonight.
Lupin, Hagrid and Celena stayed a while longer in Hagrid's hut and had a couple of very strong drinks each, to relax from that night's anxiety. Later, Lupin traveled home by Floo powder through Hagrid's fireplace, and Hagrid escorted Celena to the castle's front doors.
- Yeh really proved yerself tonight, Celena, - he said, pulling her into a bone-crushing hug. It was almost like being in Goliath's arms after all, only without the talons and fangs. Celena tried her best to smile and keep breathing until Hagrid finally broke off and blew his nose on a large spotted handkerchief.
- Hagrid, - said Celena, who felt awfully hot in the face, - can Severus Snape really be trusted?
She told him about the incident in Snape's office, with him accidentally revealing the Dark Mark on his arm. Just like Lupin, Hagrid didn't look surprised in the least bit.
- Oh, we suspected him loads o' times. Loads an' loads o' times. But no, he's on our side now. Nasty git, though.

Facing the Unexpected

And after a long, long break - which involved a wedding, a honeymoon, and the birth of a baby - we're back!

Timothy wrote and said he won't be able to make it to Hogsmeade on Halloween day. He wrote that he is very sorry he couldn't find the time to drop by, and assured her they would see each other soon, perhaps next weekend. Celena, disappointed, felt a bit annoyed for a fraction of a second – they have settled this weekend such a long time in advance, what work could possibly be so urgent? Then she realized she had better just go and have a good time with the other teachers. She folded Timothy's note and put on a long, thick cloak against the chilly wind outside.

So in a couple of hours, she found herself sitting in The Three Broomsticks, having a drink with Professors Sprout and Flitwick, and the Headmistress, Professor McGonagall. Hagrid decided to stay in the castle to finish putting together the decorations for the night's feast.
Professor Sprout ordered Madam Rosmerta's famous oak-matured mead; Professor Flitwick was smacking his lips as he sipped his sherry, and Professor McGonagall was enjoying a Gillywater. Celena wasn't in the mood for drinking anything too strong, so she asked for a large, steaming mug of hot Butterbeer. The bar was full of laughing, talking students and some of the other teachers. She noticed Professor Vector and Professor Sinistra talking to Madam Rosmerta at the bar. Professor Snape and Professor Trelawney, however, were nowhere to be seen.

- I must say you are doing very well, Celena, - said Professor McGonagall. – The students all like your classes, and I've never seen the N.E.W.T class so packed! I always thought it's a shame so few students remained after the O.W.L. In previous years, we had students of all houses doing their N.E.W.T level together – it's the first time in many years we actually have enough students to keep dividing them in half!
- Perhaps now they expect to hear instructions on how to make the Philosopher's Stone! - Professor Sprout winked.
- You know I don't have the faintest idea on how to do that, Pomona, - Celena smiled. – Grandpa Nicholas never taught anyone.
At this point, their conversation was interrupted. Professor McGonagall, who was sitting with her face to the door, got up to greet a man who just stepped over the threshold, shaking the hood of his shabby traveling cloak off his face. He had a kind, rather tired face, and much more grey in his brown hair than would be expected for a man of his age.
- Uncle Remus! – Celena exclaimed, getting up to greet him. It was such a pleasant surprise to her, on a day that started in such a gloomy manner. Remus Lupin approached the table and was shaking hands with everyone. Celena noticed that Professor McGonagall, unlike Professors Sprout and Flitwick, didn't seem surprised to see him. He hugged Celena, drew a chair for himself and ordered some mead.
- Dora says hello, - he said, drinking deeply. – How are things up at the castle, Minerva?
- Good, - she replied cautiously, - but you are still most welcome to stay for the feast, Remus.
- I will, thank you, Minerva, - he nodded.

Stay for the feast, when Dora and little Teddy are waiting for him at home? Celena fought the urge to raise an eyebrow. She saw Professors Sprout and Flitwick found it strange too. But then, for the following half hour, she couldn't detect anything out of the ordinary in what her uncle said – they just talked about family matters, Celena's classes, Teddy's funny first words, the renovations at Celena's parents' shop, the latest publications in "The Daily Prophet", and no matter how hard Celena tried, she failed to notice a trace of anything unusual.

After they paid for their drinks, Celena and her uncle walked out of the pub alone. Celena thought it would be wiser not to interrogate Remus right away, so to weaken his resistance, she dragged him along to Gladrag's Wizardwear, and together the chose a nice new winter cloak for him, one she assured him Dora would approve of. Celena bought a new cloak for herself as well, with a matching hat, and only when she was contemplating a pair of gloves, she had to ask:
- Why are you here, Uncle?
- Oh, never mind that. I have business in Hogwarts, - he replied vaguely, trying to brush her off.
- Why are you hanging around in Hogsmeade, then? – Celena pressed on.
Lupin paused for a while, looking very uncomfortable, let out a sigh, and then said:
- Oh, alright. I need to speak with Goliath. Hagrid told me you've met him.
- Yes, I have, - she nodded. It was obvious now why Lupin had to linger until it was dark, so that Goliath and the rest of his clan would wake from their daily hibernation in stone. – Do you have an idea who attacked them in Scotland? – She added in a whisper.
- I couldn't tell you more even if I knew something, - he said flatly.
- Oh, I'm sure you have an idea, - Celena continued badgering him. – Otherwise, why bother coming? I'd love to know what it has got to do with the Ord-
- Shh! – hissed Lupin. – Not here! It's packed with people! And besides, - he continued in a very different voice, suddenly looking not at Celena, but contemplating the neatly packaged new cloak in his hands, - I decided to come early and stop in Hogsmeade because I knew you'd probably be here, and I wanted to talk to you about something else.
- Something else? – Celena repeated, puzzled. – Something you couldn't discuss in front of the other teachers? What is it?
- You didn't have a look at The Daily Prophet, today, did you? – He asked. His expression was very strained as he handed her a copy of the most popular wizard newspaper.

Celena took it, not understanding. The front page was covered with notices of changes in the Ministry; congratulations to the new Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic; announcements of recent broomstick safety regulations; and a large commercial dedicated to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.
- I see nothing special.
- It's right at the back. – Lupin said grimly.
Confused, Celena opened the very last page of the "Prophet". Normally she never got as far as that while reading her morning newspaper. It was the social column, reporting weddings, births, funerals and other important milestones in the more or less important and famous wizard families.
- So, - she said, - Celestina Warbeck is getting divorced for the third time, that's nothing unexpect-

And then she stopped breathing, as if all air had been knocked out of her. She read and re-read once, twice, ten times, refusing to believe her eyes, trying to blink away the hot, angry tears that suddenly blurred her vision, unable to swallow because of a painful constriction that obstructed her throat.
At the very bottom of the column was a small notice, just a few lines telling about the recent engagement of the promising young wizard Timothy Whitechapple and the gorgeous Alexa Douglas, daughter of the richest cauldron-maker of Northern Ireland. There was only a small, smudged picture of Alexa, but it was enough to show that she had curly, flaming red hair and smiled as though she wanted to leave no doubt that each one of her teeth is perfect. Celena furiously wiped her tears away, feeling sick to her stomach.

- Dora figured you probably don't read the social column, - Lupin said darkly, avoiding her red and puffy eyes, - and she thought you should see it yourself, as soon as possible, before you hear someone whispering behind your back.
- I don't get it, - Celena said quietly. – I just don't get it… I understand he might have wanted a marriage to better advance his career, but then - all that time, all that effort, begging me to consent to marry him… why? What's the point?
- I'm sorry, - Lupin said gently. Celena opened her mouth to say something else, but the words were simply lost on their way out. Forgetting all about the gloves, she stormed out of the shop, Remus at her heels, laden with packages.

Lupin stayed for the feast. Celena was sitting between her uncle and Hagrid, which was in itself some comfort, because none of them was interested in gossip, and she was still in a state of mixed disbelief, anger and confusion.
- I don't believe it, - she said in a low whisper, - I mean, he did write less in the last weeks, and he didn't come to see me lately, but still, I didn't expect something like that. Behind my back! Without saying a word! You'd think I had tried to hunt him down, but no – he actually proposed three times before I accepted. Maybe he just likes being engaged!
But a small, a very small and nasty voice inside her head told her she should have seen it coming. Timothy was a man who liked living an easy, smooth, rich life, and his new fiancée seemed just the woman who could provide that – tenfold the comfort and luxury his and Celena's jobs and her share in "Costello Concoctions" could ever bring. Now that she thought back on it, in the past weeks Timothy was clearly avoiding her, being cold and distant. How come she didn't notice it before?

Dennis's Secret

The days went on, and surprisingly soon, the Hogwarts castle started seeming very much like home to Celena. She became quite friendly with most of the staff members, especially Hagrid, and Professors Flitwick, Sprout, and Trelawney. Professor McGonagall was nice too, in her own stern way; but as Headmistress she was a bit distant. The castle itself seemed more welcoming too – she stopped getting lost on her way to the dungeons or the staff room, and Peeves found it more difficult to surprise her now.
What's more, the students ceased interrogating her about being related to Nicholas Flamel, or about whether she had the faintest idea about how to make a Philosopher's Stone, and started appreciating her lessons on their own accord. They learned that the standards she used to evaluate their homework were pretty high, but still she was much more agreeable than Professor Snape, and the dungeons were so much nicer these days.
Snape, maybe because of his natural nastiness, or maybe from the dismay it caused him to hear that the subject of Potions grew much more popular than when it was taught by him, continued making his sly, acid-dripping comments whenever he could, hinting he still thinks Celena isn't skilled and experienced enough to teach – but in such a subtle way all she could do was fume silently. He did it most often in front of the compassionate audience of students from his own house, Slytherin. Indeed, the Slytherins didn't seem quite as fond of Professor Costello as the rest of the school, but didn't dare to show it openly.
Neither Uncle Remus nor the others made the slightest suggestion they were still doing work on the behalf of the Order, although Celena could swear she saw her uncle frown with hidden knowledge when she told him about the prophecy Firenze made to them in the Forbidden Forest. She decided to let it be for now. She also spent a few more times in the company of Firenze, who was the wisest and most gracious of all beings she knew. They had long discussions unlike any conversation she had before.
A couple of times she met the gargoyles again, accompanied by Hagrid, but didn't enjoy these visits as much as he did, even though Goliath, Angela and Korian were starting to grow on her.
She spent her weekends reading countless essays on the properties of moonstone and potion-preserving, visiting Hagrid in his cabin, strolling down the neat little streets of Hogsmeade with her fellow teachers. Several times she traveled home by Floo Powder.
She finally saw Timothy, even more than once, but never for long – he seemed busy. He hinted there was an important project he was involved in, an excellent opportunity. She understood. After all, she was absorbed in her work as well, and it was rewarding to know her students were doing well. To her great relief, most of her sixth-year N.E.W.T students were now more or less at the same level, and she promised the ones who have been doing extra homework that this measure will soon be stopped.
It was even more surprising, after she made this announcement – which caused an unmasked outburst of delight - in class, to receive a request for extra lessons from Dennis Creevey, who didn't have to do additional homework in the first place, and who seemed to be doing fine, except for an occasional fit of clumsiness from time to time.
She was in her office when it happened. It was the night before Halloween, and the house-elves have just finished decorating the castle for next day's feast. Hagrid grew some of the largest pumpkins Celena had ever seen, and dozens of splendid Jack-o-lanterns illuminated the Great Hall. A smaller one even stood on the desk in Celena's office, adding to the festive atmosphere. A Hogsmeade visit was to take place the next day, and Celena was happily anticipating it. She could go to Hogsmeade every weekend if she liked, of course, but it was somehow so much merrier with all the students around. She fancied a cup in The Three Broomsticks with the other teachers, and thought she'd look at some winter robes, because the mornings were becoming steadily frostier.
She was contemplating that when she heard a knock on her office's door. She threw a glance at the clock; it was getting late, about time for all the students to return to their common rooms, and she was surprised to see Dennis when she opened the door.
- Good evening, Professor Costello, - he said timidly, - may I have a word?
- Come in, Mr. Creevey. How can I help you? Would you like a cup of tea, perhaps? But be brief, unless you fancy being caught and given detention by Mr. Filch for breaking curfew. – Er, no, thank you, Professor, - mumbled Dennis. – I'll make it quick… I need your help, Professor; I think I could do with some private lessons, if you have the time… perhaps once a week? – He said hopefully, and then added as an afterthought, - whenever you find it most convenient.
- Extra lessons? – Celena frowned. – Are you certain you need them, Mr. Creevey? Sure, I could make some time for you, but I find your work in class satisfactory, and the essays you hand in are nothing short of excellent. I'm very pleased with you.
- That's the thing, Professor, - replied Dennis, blushing for some reason and looking not at Celena, but rather at the pumpkin on her desk. – I think I've learned the theory off by heart, but it doesn't help to really polish my practical work, and what's Potion-Making without a skilled hand?
Celena sighed.
- In that case, Mr. Creevey, we have no reason to put it off. If you want to truly perfect your work, I am, of course, more than willing to help you… we shall start next week, Monday night, seven o'clock, the Potions classroom. It might be a bit cold down there, but I daresay it's roomier than my office. Now off you go, Mr. Creevey, it's getting rather late.
- Thanks, Professor! – Dennis said excitedly and hurried off to Gryffindor tower, careful to avoid Filch.
… - Extra lessons? – Martin Nordholm gaped at him in disbelief, - you are taking extra lessons?
Dennis first blushed, then said defiantly:
- Yeah, I am. Celena agreed to start next Monday.
- Celena? – Martin sounded astonished. Then he said in a flat voice, - you fancy her! I don't believe it – you actually fancy her!
- Shut up! – Dennis hissed, looking around, but they were quite alone in the common room, except for two second-year girls who sat absorbed in a game of wizard chess.
- I should have known, - Martin continued in a quieter voice, - from the very moment I saw you in the Potions class. You hated Potions, you always did. You would never continue if Snape stayed –
- Oh yes I would, - argued Dennis, - I need it, a N.E.W.T in Potions is required in loads of places.
- So is a N.E.W.T in other subjects, but I never see you spend half the night working on your homework for those! I mean, you give her two rolls of parchment when she asks for twelve inches…
- Oh, shut up, - repeated Dennis exasperatedly.
- And you shouldn't forget we have the first Quidditch game in no time, and I'm sure you don't want to lose to Slytherin, and the new Beater we have, that Saunders guy, is doing lamely so far, and your cozy private lessons mean one practice less every week –
He broke off, noticing that Dennis didn't take in a word of what he was saying.
- Listen, - he said impatiently, and Dennis finally turned his head towards him, a dreamy, misty look in his eyes, - Professor Costello is cool and not half bad, but she's a teacher, do you get it? You don't think you could really –
Dennis opened his mouth to speak, but Martin raised a hand.
- Don't bother, - he said, - but whatever you do, please don't call her Celena.

Forest Dwellers

Hagrid strode towards his cabin's door, Fang following him. Buckbeak continued to snooze in front of the fire. Celena went after Hagrid and Fang, out of the cabin and towards the dark shadow of the Forbidden Forest.
- Are we going in there? – She asked with a hint of trepidation in her voice.
- Yeah, - said Hagrid, - aren't afraid, are yeh?
- Oh, not at all, - said Celena, thinking privately it will be all right as long as they stay away from gremlins and acromantula that, as she heard, were lurking somewhere in the depths of the Forest.
They followed a winding path under the dark shadows of ancient trees, their wands alight. The path looked as though it was made recently by a large animal that fought its way through thick bushes.
- Is it far yet? – Celena asked, panting and drawing her cloak tighter around her shoulders. She liked forests, but this one seemed very eerie. She thought she could hear two pine trees behind them bending closer and whispering to each other, but thought it would be best not to mention it.
And then, there was a sound of hooves and a very strange being stepped into the clearing from between two trees. He had a lean, muscular torso of a man and a palomino body of a horse. There was a bow and quiverful of arrows attached to one of his shoulders.
- Hullo, Firenze, - said Hagrid. The centaur inclined his magnificent golden head in welcome. Indeed, it was Firenze, who after the final battle with Voldemort was mercifully forgiven by his herd for "meddling in affairs of humans" and allowed to return to the Forest.
Celena looked at him in awe. She had never seen a centaur before, but of course she knew all about them. She approached and stretched out a hand. Firenze took it, and two pairs of equally dazzling blue eyes met.
- Tha's Celena Costello, Firenze, - said Hagrid. – She's a teacher at the school, on'y just started.
Firenze continued looking intently at Celena, with his sparkling, penetrating gaze, as if he could see something no one else could. He seemed to find her just as interesting as she found him.
- The stars have spoken, Hagrid. – He said finally, after a long pause. – Wizardkind will have to follow, yet again, a dark and twisting road, although the danger isn't quite like it was last time – not yet, at least.
- If there's one thing I wish, - interrupted Hagrid, looking unimpressed, - an' I mean, on'y one thing – it's that the stars'd be more specific when they speak. He Who Must Not Be Named is gone –
- Past and future, blended together, - continued Firenze, paying little attention to Hagrid's words. – A great opportunity and a great peril. The humans might not have noticed it yet, but every single tree in this Forest speaks about it in the rustle of its leaves.
He looked directly at Celena when he said this, and she looked back and gave the tiniest of nods.
She was wondering if the whole point of going this deep into the Forest was to meet Firenze, who was of course fascinating, but provided no explanation to why Snape had a disagreement with Professor McGonagall. But then Hagrid cleared his throat and asked:
- Anyway, Firenze, we were going ter go a bit further in. I hope somebody's there?
- They woke at dusk and went hunting, - replied Firenze, - I think Ronan and Magorian went to show them our best spots. I believe I heard Goliath come back a little while ago, though.
After saying this phrase, of which Celena understood very little, he raised a hand in goodbye and disappeared once more into the trees.
Celena decided not to ask anything, and they went on along the winding path. After a few minutes, she thought she saw a flickering light, and then they stepped onto another clearing, much larger than the one where they met Firenze. There was a bright fire burning in the middle of it, and someone sat in front of it, devouring something raw and bloody Celena didn't wish to examine from a closer distance. She turned to Hagrid and opened her mouth only to find out speech has temporarily left her. She looked instead at the creature that now got up and approached to greet them.
It was clear he wasn't a man, although his face was almost human, with a broad jaw and a wide, low forehead. As tall and wide as Hagrid, wearing nothing but a loincloth held by a thick leather belt, he looked somewhat frightening. Celena saw now that what was wrapped around his shoulders was not a cloak, but his own enormous, bat-like wings. His long, neatly braided hair fell almost to his waist.
There was something definitely reptilian about him; his lavender skin was scaly, and Celena noticed with a jolt he had a mighty lizardish tail. At the same time, there was something feline about his hands and feet with sharp, tiger-like talons.
- Hello, Hagrid, - he said in a deep, booming voice. – Good to meet you again. I see you brought a friend along?
- Yeah, - Hagrid said casually, as if they were talking over drinks at a cocktail party, and shook one of the enormous taloned hands. – I thought she's like ter meet yeh. Celena, tha's Goliath.
Celena was never prejudiced against different races, but Goliath, whatever he was, looked positively wild. She thought she was starting to understand what the conflict between Professors Snape and McGonagall was about. She resisted, however, the temptation to round on Hagrid and ask, "What is he?" – Instead, she turned to the lavender, scaly creature and asked:
- Who are you?
- I am the leader of this clan, - he said, - residing now in this forest with the kind permission of Professor McGonagall, the Headmistress of Hogwarts.
- Oh, - she was unable to say anything else. Goliath looked, in fact, quite friendly if she ignored his menacing, powerful tail that swished from side to side, his sharp talons and his love for raw meat, but she could privately understand why Snape wasn't exactly eager to have an entire clan – she wondered how numerous – of huge lizard-like men prowling the school grounds.
She looked at him, trying to figure out where she might have seen something like him before, having a weird feeling it was something very basic and obvious she was failing to recognize.
- Goliath's a gargoyle, Celena, - Hagrid finally said, peering at her face and seeing no comprehension.
- Oh! – Celena exclaimed, taking a step back and looking at the lavender giant's face. – Of course!
She knew now. She must have head of these creatures, if not seen them, at least once. But where? And then, she remembered - Fleur and Bill's wedding, over a year ago, a freckly, good-natured face, hands covered with burns and scratches…
- You don't happen to know Charlie Weasley, do you? – She asked tentatively.
To her surprise, Goliath gave her what was undoubtedly a wide smile. She noticed with a shudder his mouth was full of long, sharp, pearly-white teeth that were now covered with blood from his interrupted meal. She felt her knees weaken but pulled herself together. Goliath seemed to have noticed it too, because she licked his teeth with a flexible, cat-like tongue.
- I met and befriended Charles Weasley years ago, when I wasn't a leader of this clan yet. – He said, staring absent-mindedly at Fang, who was now devouring what remained of his dinner. – He gathered knowledge and researched different creatures that can be found in Wyvern Wood, where we resided until recently. I helped him. He is a good man, and it was him I turned to when I realized our clan needs a new place to stay in.
- What happened, then? – Celena asked. Hagrid looked like he was already familiar with the story.
- There were attacks. – Goliath replied darkly. – One of our numbers was killed, and two were kidnapped. We never found them or the attacker.
- But who could?! – Celena was puzzled. Who in their right mind would risk attacking the likes of Goliath, who not only were armed with steely talons, fangs and muscles, but who could also fly? And the scaly skin, she figured, would probably provide protection against most spells and jinxes. Well, a dragon could beat them, she supposed, but that wouldn't be so hard to figure out…
- Could have been the supporters of He Who Must Not Be Named, - said Goliath, patting Fang, who was now sniffing hopefully at his heels. – They knew we were not on their side during the two Wars. We fought against them. They might have come to seek revenge. But that's just one suggestion – we never found out, because it happened during daytime.
- Yeh see, Celena, the special thing abou' gargoyles's that they freeze ter stone with the firs' ray o' sunshine an' stay that way 'til sunset, - explained Hagrid, seeing the puzzled expression on her face.
- Oh! – Celena nodded in comprehension, - I understand, then – but it leaves you in a very vulnerable position, doesn't it?
- Indeed, - Goliath inclined his head in agreement. – Unless we have something or someone to protect us during daytime, we choose the darkest, deepest, most secret hiding places. What happened was a blow, but we didn't lose hope. We didn't want to leave Wyvern Wood, where our ancestors, hunters and warriors, led happy lives for centuries. We went into the very depths of the forest and lived there for a while longer. We were very careful. We spread around for our day hibernation, in twos and threes, so that the enemy, if he reached us again, wouldn't at least find all of us at once.
- But then something else happened, right? – Celena asked, her attention involuntarily captured by the story. – Because eventually you left Wyvern, right?
- The enemy, whoever he was, found our rookery. One night, there were three eggs – the other night, they were gone.
Celena opened her mouth to ask, but then thought it makes sense, considering their reptilian appearance, that gargoyles lay eggs, like dragons or salamanders.
- So I knew it was not a time for pride, - continued Goliath. – I contacted Charles Weasley. I flew to Wales to see him and he promised to help us. He mobilized a few of his friends, to protect us during daytime, while he was negotiating and making arrangements with the Headmistress of Hogwarts to allow us to live here. Minerva McGonagall met me and told me we may live here, if we treat the other creatures of this forest with kindness and respect. In return, we patrol the Forest, the school grounds, and Hogsmeade. We miss Wyvern Wood, but it's not bad here. The centaurs have been generous enough to share their hunting places with us. And hopefully, more eggs will soon appear in our new rookery…
Goliath was interrupted by a group of his fellow gargoyles, who emerged into the clearing carrying deer, birds and even snakes – apparently, tonight's hunt was profitable.
Celena was relieved to see that Goliath was easily the largest of them. No one else was quite as tall and broad, although most of the gargoyles were taller and clearly stronger than humans. There were many of them, males and females, elders and hatchlings, with different colors of skin and hair. Celena also noticed that not all of them looked as human-like as Goliath. Many had beak-like faces or horns.
The clearing was now very crowded; the gargoyles spoke to each other (with strong Scottish accent), examining each other's prey and glancing curiously at Hagrid, Celena, Fang and Goliath. Three of the gargoyles approached them. Two of them were clearly siblings, a male and a female with delicately blue skin, ruby-red hair and of a fair, light complexion, much shorter and smaller than Goliath. The third was a young female who was built along the same lines as the first two, but actually resembled the gargoyle leader with her lavender skin and a long, wild mane of black hair. Celena noticed that despite the variety of sizes and colors, all the gargoyles had the same slanted, black eyes. The blue, red-haired male looked the friendliest of the lot, and somehow the most civilized, although just like the rest, he wore only a loincloth on his hips (the females also wore something like a halter-top), and was carrying several large chunks of raw meat spiked on a sharp stick. He stretched out a hand and Hagrid shook it.
- Hello, Korian, - he said.
- We are one clan, - said Goliath, - but that is my closest family. Here's my wife, Demona, - he gestured towards the female with blue skin and red hair, who was holding what looked like a sack of dead birds, - my daughter, Angela, - the young female gave Celena a friendly nod, - and my wife's blood brother, Korian.
- Humans, - hissed Demona, looking up at her husband and leader and ignoring the rest of them, the end of her long, flexible tail twitching. – Humans were the ones who forced us into hiding, yet you, Goliath, still seek the protection of humans and insist on inviting them here, into our midst…
- You must remember Hagrid, my heart, - said Goliath, all of a sudden not looking that big anymore.
- I remember him, - said Demona, shooting a nasty glance at Hagrid. – But not her. Who is this human female? – She asked, glaring openly at Celena.
Celena was forcefully reminded of the welcome she received from Snape.
- That's Celena Costello, Demona, - said Hagrid, looking rather taken aback. – She's a teacher up at the school…
But he stopped, because he saw Demona was staring at Goliath, and he was glaring back.
- I thought it was discussed by all of us, - said Goliath, towering over his wife, who drew herself to her full height but still looked tiny next to him, - and I thought we all agreed that humans and gargoyles, despite stupid old-age misunderstandings, are natural allies!
- We didn't all agree with that, oh no, - said Demona, baring her teeth, he eyes flashing dangerously. Angela and Korian wisely retreated.
- And I thought, - Goliath spoke louder, - that Professor McGonagall and her fellows, who offer us shelter, are our friends with whom we are linked by bonds of mutual protection, not intruders who –
- Um, well, now yeh've met Celena an' all, - said Hagrid, who was clearly starting to feel uncomfortable, - an' we'll drop by sometimes… so… bye for now, Goliath.
But the pair of gargoyles paid no attention to him. Goliath and Demona were deeply in what looked like one of many rows, hissing and spitting like a pair of angry cats. Demona actually looked more like a feline than a reptile. Her skin didn't resemble dragon hide so much, and her movements were graceful. She would be quite pretty for a gargoyle, Celena thought, if not that contorted, Snape-ish expression, and those sharp, bared teeth.
They left the clearing unnoticed and went back by the narrow, winding path, Fang at their heels.
- So, how'd' yeh find them? – Hagrid asked, looking rather pleased with himself now that they have left the scene of fight.
- Um, alright, I mean, Goliath is just fine, Korian and Angela seemed quite nice too…
- Demona's a bit rough, - he admitted, - yeh see, one o' the eggs that have bin stolen was theirs, Goliath told me, an' she took it pretty hard –
- Understandable, - Celena nodded.
- Yeah, an' she's mad at Goliath fer not makin' her his Second, an' she's prejudiced agains' humans jus' like some o' us wizards are against them gargoyles. Some make a link between them an' vampires, just because gargoyles hunt at night…
As she wished Hagrid goodnight at the doors of his cabin and walked through the dark, cold grounds and upstairs to her office, Celena thought it was very unlikely she would ever visit the gargoyles on her own. True, Goliath seemed somewhat like Hagrid - big and mean-looking, but of a much kinder nature than you could think – Demona, however, was not someone you'd like to corner in the darkness.
It was very late already – the stroll took more time than she thought it would – but she didn't go to bed right away. Instead, she sat down at her desk, lost in thought. She left the window open before she left, but no sign of Wilbert's visit could be seen. He didn't come. There was still no word from Timothy. Disturbed, her head heavy, she finally went off to bed.

Tea with Hagrid

Madam Pomfrey managed to get rid of Celena's flowery appearance fairly quickly. The rest of the first week of term wasn't quite that exciting. The students were much more respectful, she thought, than they could be expected to be to such a young and inexperienced teacher. Celena's relation to Nicholas Flamel, the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone, played a part in that of course. Many of the students were familiar with "Costello Concoctions", the older ones might have even seen her behind the counter a few summers ago. Her classes were interesting – she tried to leave most of the theoretical part for homework (which, she admitted, placed a rather large load on her students), and during her lessons she gave occasional fun treats that weren't included in the study program.

On her third day as a Hogwarts teacher, she gave a detention for the very first time, an act she hoped to put off longer; there was no choice, though. A third-year Hufflepuff boy thought it would be fun to make his classmate's cauldron explode, and believed his involvement would go unnoticed if he pointed his wand from under his desk and muttered the incantation quietly. It was lucky that the Shrinking Solution they were making wasn't ready yet, because the bubbling liquid spluttered the walls, floor, ceiling and most of the students and their possessions. No real damage was done, but the guilty Hufflepuff student was made to scrub the mess off all by himself, without using magic, which took most of the evening and left Argus Filch, the caretaker, absolutely delighted.

She had no post all week, since Remus Lupin's and her parents' short notes, but on Friday afternoon two owls arrived, tapping their beaks impatiently on the window of her office, and holding a large parcel between them. The parcel contained a large quantity of homemade pies and a few jars of her mother's excellent fudge. There was also a letter from her parents, written by her father, telling nothing but that everything was as usual at home, and asking her about all the details they could possibly think of.

For a long minute, she gazed out of her window, vaguely hoping to see another owl, a handsome tawny named Wilbert that belonged to her fiancé, Timothy. But there was no sign of Wilbert on the clear horizon. Why hasn't he written? She knew Timothy was very busy at the moment with the perspectives of his new job at the regulation and control of cauldron-making industry, and that was why she resolved not to pester him with owls every day. She expected him to send her a word that day, though, inquiring how her first week in Hogwarts had gone, and possibly attempting to arrange the next time they meet, for exciting discussions of wedding preparations – the guests, the dress, the cake, the musicians and the party.

She and Timothy met when she was fresh out of Beauxbatons Academy. With only vague plans as to what she should do next, she was spending time with her parents, helping them at "Costello Concoctions". Brewing potions was natural and easy for her, so she hummed merrily on one rainy day, when the shop was empty, without the promise of too many customers. She prepared for long, undisturbed hours of counting supplies, balancing books, and replenishing stocks, when the doorbell suddenly rang and a tall, handsome young wizard entered, his traveling cloak dripping water all over the floor. He threw back the hood of his cloak and gave her a charming smile that made her feel as though her knees were made of marshmallow, soft and about to bend any moment. She was determined not to let him notice, though. She steadied herself against the counter and tried to sound businesslike and efficient as she said:

- How can I help you, young man?
- I came to ask a few questions about the cauldrons you use here in your shop, - he replied. He had a very rich, very male voice that made her feel as though her heart was beating in her throat. – But not before you tell me your name, my lady!

… Timothy came every day of that week, making more and more notes about cauldrons on a clipboard he always carried with him. He charmed Celena and her parents, and when his pretexts for visiting ran out, he continued coming anyway. Celena, with her beauty – which wasn't obscured even in Beauxbatons by the constant presence of Fleur, a dazzling part-Veela, near her – was used to male attention, but no one courted her as persistently and artistically as Timothy had. He proposed to her several times, but she felt something was stopping her. I'm too young; she tried to explain, even though she had to privately admit to herself this wasn't the whole story, maybe not even the most significant part of it – what was it, then? Why did she decline the proposal of a man who took hold of her thoughts from the moment she saw him? She didn't have a clear answer. Only during the summer before she started her job in Hogwarts, she accepted Timothy's proposal and was now engaged to be married to him. The wedding was supposed to be held next summer. Why didn't he write?

Celena placed the letter from her parents on top of the stack of essays she was supposed to check and rate that weekend. She decided to leave both the essays and the letter for tomorrow morning, and now go and visit Hagrid. She could see the light in his cabin through her window.
A magnificent sunset colored the sky gold and scarlet while she walked across the grounds towards the crude, large cabin where Hagrid lived. It was a warm evening for the season, but she took her cloak just in case she would stay out for a long time and it would get chilly as night falls.

- C'min, c'min, - said Hagrid after he peered through the half-open door to see who this was. He looked clearly pleased to see her, which she was rather relieved to see, as she got no invitation.
Everything in Hagrid's cabin seemed about twice the size it would be for a normal man. The quilt-covered bed could accommodate at least three people. A bucket-sized cup stood on the vast wooden desk, and Hagrid's enormous boots, wide and deep enough for a child to hide in, stood by the door. His boarhound, Fang, was looking strangely small here, even though he was almost equal to Celena in height when he stood on his hind legs in an attempt to lick her face.
Celena knew, of course, that Hagrid had giant blood – his mother was none other than the fearsome giantess Fridwulfa, who went into hiding many years ago. She didn't mind the chair she sat on was so high for her that her feet were actually dangling from it, unable to touch the ground – in fact, she felt almost the same way whenever she visited Madame Maxime's office in Beauxbatons…

- Oh! – she exclaimed, glancing at the huge, winged, sharp-beaked grey creature curled up on a rug in front of the fire and looking upon her with one of his fierce, orange eyes. Celena, getting a grip on herself and remembering what she was supposed to do, gave a small bow, more like a nod. The creature returned it and seemed satisfied.
- Uncle Remus told me you keep a Hippogriff here, - Celena told. Hagrid beamed.
- Tha's Buckbeak, - he said, - we've bin tergether fer years. 'Course, he stayed with Sirius Black fer a while… until…

There was a moment when none of them could think of anything else to say. Celena never had the chance to meet Sirius Black, but she, of course, knew all about one of her uncle's best friends, unjustly accused of mass murder, imprisoned in Azkaban for many years, forced into hiding and eventually killed by one of Voldemort's most faithful supporters…

- My mother sent sweets, Hagrid, look, - she said finally, showing him the parcel she got earlier. – Only it's boring to eat them alone. Why don't you make tea and we try some of these?
- Lookin' good, - Hagrid said eagerly and busied himself with the kettle. When Celena was given a mug of boiling tea she could drown herself in if she tried really hard, she took a strawberry-jam filled tart and bit into it. It was fresh-made and delicious. Hagrid swallowed his in one mighty bite and reached for another one.

- So, how was yer firs' week as a teacher? – He asked through a mouthful of tart. Celena thought of the cauldronful of half-brewed Shrinking Solution smeared all over the classroom, of her flowery appearance after the application of Beauty Balm, of Snape's snide remarks and of being interrogated non-stop about being a great-great-great granddaughter of Nicholas Flamel.
- It was as fine as I could expect, I guess, - she finally said, smiling brightly. – What about you, Hagrid? Is it difficult, being Head of House?

- Well, I always got along fine with them Gryffindors, - said Hagrid thickly, for her just took another pie from the pile in front of him, - my old House, ye see. But it's one hell of a responsibility, ye have ter sort all sorts o' problems an' make decisions, an' if anyone gets in trouble with one of the teachers they get sent straight ter me an' I'm supposed ter decide what next… what with classes an' bein' gamekeeper, there's quite enough ter be goin' on with, as ye can imagine. But this is somethin' I've dreamed of fer years.

- Have you considered moving into the castle and finding someone else for the gamekeeping duties? – Celena asked.
- Nah, nobody's up ter the job, - Hagrid waved an enormous hand in dismissal, - Charlie Weasley mighta done it, but he's too busy righ' now, with…
He stopped abruptly, and the part of his face that wasn't covered by tangled black beard or hair reddened slightly. Celena pretended to not have noticed, although it confirmed something she had been thinking about all week, ever since she received that note from Uncle Remus. She continued talking as if she didn't hear anything interesting.
- We didn't have houses in Beauxbatons, you know, - she said, - it spared a good deal of rivalry and competition that exists between the different Houses here, and instead we could dedicate ourselves to gaining knowledge and mastering our magical skills… not that it's not an interesting tradition, the Sorting and everything. But I think the pupils whose names are down to Ravenclaw for example are crafted more or less of the same material anyway, it's all about intelligence and determination…
- I think ye'd be in Ravenclaw if ye went ter Hogwarts, - observed Hagrid, drinking deeply from his mug of tea. – They're like yeh, all intelligent an' serious, trust their brains more'n anythin' else.
- I like the Ravenclaws. – Celena agreed, nodding. – I've noticed it's them who try the hardest and take classes more seriously. I just don't understand what's the reason of pairing their classes with the Hufflepuffs, they don't get along really well… and Gryffindor and Slytherin students clearly dislike each other, and they're always paired up too.
- I think 'tis part o' the strategy o' bringin' the different Houses closer. Create bonds, more like… have them make friends with each other… pity it's not workin'.

Both of them pondered this while they ate and drank some more. And then, all of a sudden, Celena asked:
- Hagrid, why does Professor Snape dislike me so much?
Hagrid choked on his tea, then chuckled.
- What's so funny? – Celena demanded.
- Hasn' bin nice ter anyone, s'long as I know him, now, has he? I remember Snape as a kid, lonely an' broodin', up his neck in the Dark Arts. Talented, no doubt 'bout that, but a nasty little piece o' work all the same.
- What's he got with me, though? – Celena frowned. – He ignored me most of the time and I'm fine with that, but sometimes he tries to make me look bad in front of my students. It's clear he was against my appointment in the first place. And he always favors the Slytherins.
- Not any fairer than nice, - said Hagrid. – Yeah, I s'pose he thought yeh're too young ter teach. An' he sees yeh do things differently than he used to do – givin' everyone a chance and encouragin' everyone – an' people like it, an' it irritates him. I know he thinks tha's a bad move.
- Professor Snape underestimates me. – Celena said. – I know more than he thinks about Potions.
- With a family like yours, how could yeh not? Don't mind Snape an' go on with yer business. Besides, he's bin in bad spirits fer another reason as well… they had a disagreement with Professor McGonagall.

There was a look in Hagrid's eyes that stated only too clearly he is dying to tell more, but is waiting to be persuaded.
- Please, go ahead, Hagrid. – Celena encouraged him. – I won't tell anybody, I promise.
She didn't say anything else, but privately thought it might have something to do with what her uncle and another member of the Order, Fleur's brother-in-law Charlie Weasley, were up to in the past weeks. She was very eager to know. And Hagrid cracked.
- Oh, all righ'. I'll show yeh. Let's go.