Certain Dark Things || Book Five

xlxi. the gallows witch

xlxi. the gallows witch

It hadn't been Elara's intention to eavesdrop.

To be fair, she was in the greenhouse long before Snape and Harriet left the house to use the garden for their training session. She set out after lunch, knowing it would take her an absurd amount of time to harvest what she needed. Indeed, she'd killed one of the yew trees already and was hoping no one would notice or attribute it to her. She continued harvesting the bark from the second tree, going slow and using her gloves and the scraper made of bones. She cracked a window for a bit of air, flipping the latch to pivot the glass out on its stiff hinges, and thus she heard when Harriet and Snape came downstairs.

For a while, they exchanged nothing but spellfire, and Elara listened to the pop and whistle of moving magic, the heavy thumps of their steps on the cold flagstones. Snape barked the occasional correction, Harriet would curse, and they'd go again.

When their dueling slowed, Snape said, "That article was a monumentally stupid idea," and Elara stiffened.

"Probably," Harriet agreed, which matched what she'd said when they left Skeeter at the Tarland Tavern. Despite her reluctance, she didn't throw the blame on Elara or Hermione. "But it's already been done."

Elara knew Hermione was currently at her desk writing a scathing letter to Rita and questioning whether or not to make good on her threat to turn the woman in as an illegal Animagus. Elara had cautioned her against it. Skeeter kept to the letter of their agreement, if not the spirit, and it would only behoove their working relationship if Hermione gave her warning and moved on. If Rita kept pushing, Hermione would have no choice but to turn her in, and the rotten beetle needed to be reminded of that.

"Vol—The Dark Lord wasn't...angry, was he?" Harriet asked, hesitating. "He didn't hurt you again after—?"

"That is none of your business, Potter."

"It is though, isn't it?" she rushed to say. "It's a consequence. It wasn't—I did the article with Skeeter, whether or not it was my idea, I still did it, and if the Dark Lord hurt you because of that—."

"You cannot shoulder the actions of others," Snape replied, sounding testy. "In your narrow perception of the situation, would you also demand credit if the Dark Lord saw fit to reward me for your choices?"

Harriet stayed quiet for a moment. "That's...different. That's from—y'know, your job."

"The coin is two-sided, Potter. Either reward or consequence, they are both mine to bear and both results of my own decisions and the decisions of the Dark Lord. Don't be a martyr. It's tiresome."

They dueled again. Elara set the scraper aside and leaned over the bench, peering out the window. Had anyone been there to witness her doing so, she would have definitely corrected their assumption that she was spying. She was only—curious. So, Elara peeked out the window, craning her neck until she spotted Harriet and Snape.

The latter returned his wand to the brace hidden by his sleeve, looking unruffled aside from an inexplicable scorch mark on his upper arm. Two crudely made swords had been driven into the earth, and Harriet busied herself by yanking them free and grunting with the effort. She canceled the Transfiguration, and they returned to rocks that she placed by the fountain again. Snape smoothed out the path with a silent spell.

Elara watched how Snape turned his head, his gaze settling on Harriet as she tidied the garden. In a rare, unguarded moment, Elara saw emotion flicker over his narrow, sallow countenance, his brows drawing together, his lips pursed in a pained grimace. It startled her, seeing the staid Potions Master appear so anxious, if only for an instant. A moment passed, and his face resumed its usual distant, cool affect. Harriet finished fixing the begonia and turned to him again, tucking a loose curl behind her ear.