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A Nagini and Severus Tale	By : MJurjevic Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > General Views: 3508 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the Harry Potter Fandom, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
Chapter Twelve: The Haunted Bed and Other Dilemmas: Part One

Summary: Settling down for the evening in each one’s respective Houses, Nagini and Severus are confronted with a variety of dilemmas.

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Nagini lay in her canopy bed, breathing in the sweet fragrance of the cinnamon-scented healing balm which she had rubbed on her neck before lying down. She reflected on how earlier, after unpacking, she had rushed to change into her nightgown, and in doing so, she had forgotten about the welts on her back from Abraxas’ flogging.

Having been perched on one corner of Nagini’s bed, Hibiscus saw the swollen lash marks and then gazed at Nagini with her protuberant eyes, saddened at the sight of the mercurial Malfoy’s marred skin; but then, the effervescent blonde witch simply commented, "Some of those wales still look angry." Lithely crossing over, Hibiscus picked up one of the small tins of balms, which Professor Flitwick had given to Nagini earlier in his consultation study, and she offered, "Let me help you."

Nagini had been too ashamed to say anything, but merely turned away from Hibiscus. After a few seconds of silence, the uneasy Malfoy lowered her gown to her waist and waited. Neither girl spoke as the sylphlike blonde witch carefully rubbed the balms of dittany and murtlap on Nagini’s back. When Hibiscus had finished applying them, she returned the salves to her roommate’s vanity table and smiled serenely. "You’ve nothing to be ashamed of… The person who did this to you should be ashamed."

Nagini did not reply; softly, Hibiscus wished her good night and slipped through the shimmering curtain which curved around, sectioning off and enclosing each separate sleeping area of the dormitory room, used in the late evenings for privacy. The pensive Malfoy waited a second and, assured that all had retired for the evening, carried one healing balm with her to her bed. She untied the midnight-blue curtains from each bedpost and drew them closed.

Lying down, she then raised her nightgown to her waist, and took some balm, slowly rubbing it on an older, burned scar on the inside of her upper left thigh. It probably won’t help it to disappear, but it can’t hurt, just to soothe the dryness… Slowly, she massaged the salve on the taut, thin skin. It no longer hurt her physically, only a tingeing tightness now and then. As for any emotional scar regarding how she had received it, she had grown used to that; accepted it as a part of her life: an irreparable part. On some level, it actually had strengthened and shielded her, for she allowed no one to touch her, only very selectively; therefore, she felt she could control and not allow anyone to hurt her. Physically, as well as emotionally, that is.

As the soothing fragrance of cinnamon, mixed with the essence of Murtlap, filled the air of her now enclosed canopy bed, she recalled the event in which she had received the mark:

"Gunther! Rolf! That’s it, hold her down, tight!" The young blond wizard, Karl Von Sturmberg of Durmstrang, commanding them, swirled his wand upwards, using all his concentration, and whispered, “Flagrate!” A burning, fiery line appeared in the air, and Karl began to draw with his wand a specific shape: a straight vertical line, adding a circle on top of the line, and then, he enclosed both line and circle in a triangle.

With the symbol of Gellert Grindelwald complete, he guided it towards the tightly held figure of Nagini, fastened to the floor by his two bullyboy mates. "Spread her legs," hissed the vicious Von Sturmberg. "Wider!"

Pulling her skirt up to her waist, Von Sturmberg guided the burning symbol to her inner thigh and branded her flesh. Over her screams from the searing pain, Karl crouched down more comfortably between his yobbos. Satisfied Grindelwald’s symbol had burnt into her permanently, he lifted the fiery line in the air above them and grabbed her hair, jerking her head upwards. He spat out, "Now, you and all will know you for what you are—an abomination created by that heretic hag who you called your mother: Lucretia de Malfoy!"

The seconds that followed were all one blurry wave of hatred and blinded violence.

Before the Durmstrang bullyboys could further continue and carry out their hate crime, all three assailants were thrown away by the explosive force of a nonverbal hex from the avenging witch. Gunther’s head had cracked against the dark stone wall, and he lay unconscious; Rolf’s wand arm’s elbow had snapped, broken, on his body’s contact against the stone. The leader’s body had been knocked back and slid across the floor. Karl lay near the brink of a dangerous precipice, one of the open-sided staircases of Durmstrang.

Through tears of uncontrollable rage, in the blink of an eye, Nagini had Accioed her wand from Rolf’s pocket. In wrathful fury, she pointed it at Von Sturmberg’s fading Flagrate spell, the lines weakly hovering still in the air. In wrathful Parseltongue, she hissed an Incendio spell. As the dark fire took the shape of a serpent in its swelling flames, it swallowed the dwindling Flagrated symbol, and with a decisive swish of her wand, Nagini directed the cursed flames to pursue its intended human target: Karl Von Sturmberg.

Once set on fire, he had, naturally in the torturous pain, panicked, running and thrashing about, and had fallen backwards off the open-sided stone staircase, plummeting to his death.

Blinking back the painful memory, Nagini wiped the tears off her cheeks and tucked the healing balm under her pillow.

Pushing the horrid event aside, Nagini continued to ruminate and willed herself to think over the immediate day’s events; she refused to dwell on Abraxas, Qualmsick or anything else related to Malfoy Manor or further back in her past. She turned on her side and reflected, rather, on her newest surroundings and the other witches she was now sharing this serene, elegant room with.

She remembered how Hibiscus had helped her finish unpacking her belongings from her trunk after the evening meal when two other witches entered the Ravenclaw dormitory room.

"Hello! I’m Charity Burbage, and this is Mildred Bagnold. We’re two more of your roommates."

Nagini shook their hands.

"Mildred’s sister, Millicent, is rumoured to be the next Minister of Magic; so, you’re rubbing shoulders with the elite here!" teased Charity good-naturedly.

"Don’t listen to Charity; I’m not a pompous prat like Belby, spouting off my family’s positions," assured Mildred.

Nagini’s fifth roommate entered wide-eyed and gave a knowing look to Nagini. "The haunted bed!" croaked out Trelawney.

As all of the canopy beds with midnight-blue curtains in their room seemed identical, Nagini only looked at the portentous witch, not knowing how to respond.

The level-headed Bagnold asked, "You’ve already met Sybill, yes?"

Shaking Trelawney’s limply offered hand, Nagini quickly turned back to organize the remaining items that she had tossed on her bed. As she placed the array of marble-handled brushes, combs and hairpins in proper order inside the centre drawer of her ornate vanity table, Nagini sentimentally thought of the little elf. Dobby! He remembered how I liked these so much and packed them!

But then, the sweet memory of Dobby faded, replaced by unpleasant ones of Malfoy Manor. Nagini gazed fleetingly at herself in the blue and bronze trimmed, oval looking glass above the table and saw the dark circles under her eyes. Her back muscles twinged. Distracting herself by stretching her neck and rolling her shoulders gently, she looked around the room in more detail as the other girls chatted randomly.

The Ravenclaw dormitory was a light-filled, rounded chambre with bewitched constellations on its high, domed ceiling, mirroring those found in the common room. As Nagini gazed upwards, the stars, almost imperceptibly, moved, continually forming different formations. She blinked and took a deep breath, admiring the pleasing décor of the sleeping chambre. On its graceful arched windows, there hung blue and bronze silk draperies. The rich midnight-blue carpet gave softly under her feet, and beside each bed, an antiquated bookcase protruded out, beckoning to be filled with tomes of wisdom. Peaceful… Lovely, just lovely!

Hibiscus had picked up the old dragon-skinned book Nagini had unpacked, placed on her bed covering beside Lucius' used sixth-year books and his Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy.

"Ooooh," cooed Hibscus, opening the slightly tattered, fragile binding. "Runes! Ancient Runes and glyphs – You’re quite a Runologist!"

Seeing the other inquisitive Ravenclaws immediately flock around Hibiscus to get a gander at the antiquated curiosa, Nagini quickly dispelled the notion. "No, I’m not at all—can’t even read one symbol! It was my mother’s book."

Hibiscus’ protuberant eyes, filled with wonder, gazed upwards, and she asked, "Oh, Nagini, may I borrow it for a few days? To show to Xenophilius? He’ll be quite delighted—runic scripture is one of his specialties! Some runic texts scribed in pamphlet-like parchments are occasionally circulated within the student body. They were penned by Xeno; he is quite passionate about Runology."

"Yes!" squeeled Charity in excitement, pointing steadfastly on one page. "Muggle runes!"

Gazing at Nagini in awe, thoroughly delighted, Burbage sputtered, "Your mother was a scholar in Muggle Studies? Fluent in the ways of the Elder Futwark? It’s unprecedented! Fascinating!"

"Burbage is a Muggles freak," joked Mildred. Seeing the worried look on Nagini’s face, she clarified, "Madly keen on all things Muggle—ancient and new!" Then Mildred remembered, "Oh, speaking of eccentrics, Professor Flitwick wishes to see you in the consultation study. It’s the little snuggery straight across the common room from the base of the dormitory steps. It’s like his second office—but just for Ravenclaws, of course.” The unrestrained Bagnold snapped her fingers searching for a phrase. "What’s the word Muggles use, Charity? Oh, yes – pronto!" She smiled, pleased with herself. "Just love it—sounds like a spell!"

As Nagini crossed to leave, she saw that all four roommates had perched around on her bed, utterly immersed in the strange old book. So much for my bed being haunted! Even Sybill’s joined in! They were all captivated and chirping excitedly. Nagini didn’t bother to interrupt their ‘Oohs’ and ‘Ahs’ as they shared esoteric observations from each new discovery the book held.

Silently slipping out, Nagini made her way down to the wide, circular common room, passing in front of the white-marble statue of Rowena Ravenclaw. Giving an admiring look to the founder of the Ravenclaw House, she saw Professor Flitwick’s door open.

The tiny wizard appeared and called out, "Ah, Miss Malfoy! Please, do come in!" She crossed through the spacious room filled with bookcases, tables and chairs, and soon found herself warmly greeted and snuggly seated in the cosy little study.

The half-goblin wizard smiled and noted, "Quite a day for you, Miss Malfoy!"

Suddenly nervous under the wise gaze of her Head of House, she could only reply, "Yes, sir."

Cordially, Professor Filius Flitwick got out a circular tin from his desk drawer. He opened and placed it in front of her on the desktop. A Baroque tune tinkled out. Nagini peered closer and saw little colourful cupcakes inside it. Filius waved gracefully over the tin with his wand, and the icing covered pastries began to twirl and swirl, forming stately minuet movements, only to then jerk and jive in a rhythmic pattern as the tune exuding from the box changed to upbeat Jazz.

Nagini smiled at the sweetness of such a display of Light magic. "It’s lovely…"

"Have one! They’re as delectable as they are delightful!" Filius assured her, helping himself to one. Nagini took one as well. As she bit into the tasty cake, Professor Flitwick then referred to a list he had been analyzing on his desk and gently explained, "The Headmaster has proposed the following for your present timetable; the staff will immediately begin to assess your skills during classes. In a fortnight, we will re-evaluate you. If need be, we’ll adjust your curriculum, and at that time, add on a few electives to help fill out anything missing from your," Flitwick hesitated, "past training, private or otherwise."

Finishing her little cupcake, Nagini took the parchment Filius proffered. On it was written: Potions, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Charms, Herbology.

"As your housemates may have told you already – Lovegood and Hope can be quite thorough – Ravenclaw House prizes learning, wisdom, wit and creativity in its members. I look forward to the diversity and individuality you shall bring to our House. You are the first Malfoy ever to be Sorted into Ravenclaw—" Flitwick broke off, as another thought occurred to him, and reached for a small loosely wrapped, half-opened packet. He gave it to Nagini.

"This was, um, delivered earlier, intended for you."

She unfolded the wrapping. Nestled inside were three small tins. The scent of cinnamon protruded heavily from one. A tiny note was underneath them. Written in spidery, cursive handwriting, it read: ‘Cinnamon… oil-based chamomile, dittany, and essence of Murtlap’. Nagini gave a confused look to Professor Flitwick.

"I checked them," he admitted, slightly embarrassed. “They seem to be healing balms…" Gently, Filius enquired, "Have you an injury?"

Nagini blinked and stared at the tiny, tarnished tins. Thinking quickly, she said, "No. No, I just usually have some with me as a precaution. I’m very clumsy. Prone to accidents…"

Suddenly, a flashback of waking up in her boudoir at Malfoy Manor and, gazing through a haze of excruciating pain, she saw Dobby being kicked by Lucius. Her blond cousin, who was holding a similar, larger tin as those in her lap, was hissing at the wretched little creature, "Don’t you dare touch her! Use some of your filthy powers to apply it to her back!”

Lucius! Lucius must have brought these to me! Momentarily feeling guilty for snubbing him earlier, she explained further to her Head of House, "I must have forgotten to pack them. My cousin delivered these?"

Clearing his throat, Flitwick delicately informed her, "This packet, the contents therein, was confiscated by Prefect Belby from a second-year, Terry Boot. Mr Boot can’t remember exactly who gave it to him, although he does remember that it was a Slytherin." Flitwick cleared his throat again. "There has been an incident: Marcus is in the Hospital Ward, nothing too serious; however…" It was difficult for Filius to say it directly. "Miss Malfoy, although we strive and pride ourselves here in Ravenclaw to resolve conflicts of interest, beliefs, and such, intellectually, diplomatically, wit over brute force, as it were—there are always unforeseen exceptions to the rule. Marcus and Lucius are these. Our Mr Belby is the exemplar, model student: our Head Boy," Nagini bit the inside of her lip to not huff derisively, "however, any time he and Mr Malfoy are left to their own devices, there have always been incidents." He gave a knowing look to Nagini.

"Professor Flitwick, please, what has happened?"

"Marcus was found a short time ago, face down, in his own blood from a broken nose. Someone had used a Petrificus Totalus on him and kicked him in the face. Inappropriate behaviour has occurred before between the two." Flitwick pushed his glasses up a bit, momentarily stalling; but then, he asked, "Were you expecting Mr Malfoy to deliver these? Would you be willing to attest to this before myself, Professor Slughorn of Slytherin, and the Headmaster?"

Nagini’s eyes widened in panic. To squeal on Lucius? But what if it wasn’t him? Of course, it was—who else? Only he knows why I would need these...

Hesitating, Nagini asked, "Professor Flitwick, surely Marcus knows whether it was, indeed, Lucius or not? Surely, he can identify him?"

"That is the crux of the matter; Marcus’ pride won’t let him name a name, and without anyone else to do so, my hands are tied."

"I’m sorry, Professor," Nagini felt her face burning in cowardly shame, but couldn’t bring herself to agree to do it. Lucius! Moreover, there was the faintest nagging doubt in her mind connected, incomprehensibly, with the scent of cinnamon filling her senses. It wasn’t Lucius’ face, but someone else’s, an unidentifiable presence in her subconscious, teasing and intangible. "I—I can’t say it, for certain…"

Disappointed, Flitwick’s attention was distracted as he noticed Nagini’s hair changing. Dark red streaks flowed through her brunette locks.

"Ah, yes, wonderful! The Headmaster informed me that you are a Metamorphmagus."

Self-conscious, Nagini touched her hair. "Not – not a pure –," she stopped, having become flustered. "My Metamorphmagus powers fluctuate from voluntary to involuntary responses, reacting to various emotional stimuli." Nagini stopped and waited. At that moment, she was feeling guilty, ashamed, but also angry for having to be put on the spot. She dwelt on what would happen if she stepped up and accused Lucius on behalf of Marcus. What will it gain me, except for more trouble? She fingered the bewitched ring on her finger. For whatever reasons, Belby doesn’t want to accuse Lucius himself, or he would have… It’s unfair for Professor Flitwick to ask me to! If Marcus won’t… And yet, if I truly want to disassociate myself from Lucius and show my loyalty and respect to Flitwick, the Ravenclaw House, I should do the right thing...

Through her fog of doubt, the faint, unidentifiable imaged face triggered by the cinnamon scent became clearer to her: Severus Snape. Her brow knitted; she was utterly confused.

"Professor Flitwick, I’m sorry, but perhaps I could sleep on it? If that is all for now, may I please be excused?"

Knowing it was best for the young woman to get some rest, Professor Flitwick complied, "But of course, Miss Malfoy. If you haven’t any questions for me at this time, do return to your dormitory. You can ask or discuss with me anything which comes to mind in the morning. You’ll start your day off with two hours of Charms, back to back. How do you find your room?"

"Lovely, sir, truly lovely." Thanking him, she rose to leave, only to turn and ask, "Sir, my wand? I was told—" Abraxas’ devious smugness flashed through her mind, "that I would receive it upon my arrival."

"Ah, yes, the Headmaster shall give it to you right before Charms class. After breakfast, you may go directly to his office and, afterwards, come to room 2e, the Charms classroom, located on the third floor."

Taking the little tins and thanking the Ravenclaw Head again, she left, eager to return to her room. She sighed heavily, dreading having to meet with Dumbledore alone. The last time she had spoken with him was in the bowels of the Ministry, the day of her hearing in front of the Wizengamot. Moreover, she could never forget her very first meeting with the omnipotent wizard before that in her gaol cell; his deceptive, grandfatherly blue eyes had seared through her with wrathful judgment, smiting her shields of denial and avoidance instantaneously.

She quaked in her boots at the memory of the angered Dumbledore. Her only comfort was that she would be reunited with her wand. With this hope, and that the Headmaster would be mercifully brief, she returned to the dormitory room.

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A Nagini and Severus Tale