Davis Confinement

"By the way, you meant Miss Davis?" Professor Sprout asked, gently placing a large pod onto the tray.

Anthony deftly extracted the beans from the pod. "Yes, second-year Slytherin, Roger Davis's sister. Why?"

Professor Sprout hesitated. "I'm not entirely sure... there's something unsettling about that girl. I believe she might not be very popular among her classmates and often feels left out of her house team, so I often have her help me with the plants."

"And?"

"Well, I've noticed she always carries the scent of potions. Not the kind from brewing, but from long-term use... You know, I'm a Herbologist, and I often work with potioneers. I was a bit concerned that she was taking too many potions, but Poppy assured me that wasn't the case. I asked Davis about it, and she insisted I must be mistaken, that she had just come from the Potions classroom."

Anthony was surprised. "Addicted to potions?"

Professor Sprout was startled as well. "No, not that serious. Potions are far better than Muggle drugs. I just think she might have been medicating for injuries, suffering from long-term insomnia, or experiencing poor health. I don't know." She shook her head. "Perhaps I was mistaken, and that would be a good thing."

Since Tracey's grades in Herbology were consistently good and her behavior in class was exemplary, Professor Sprout had never given her detention, so she didn't have many opportunities to speak with her privately.

"I'll keep an eye on it," Anthony promised, feeding the discarded pod shells to an eager Devil's Snare that had slithered over.

…

Friday arrived, another overcast day. The persistent rain gave the castle corners a mossy scent, the chill and dampness seeping into one's bones. Only the crackling fire in the hearth kept the area dry and warm.

Anthony hung his coat by the fireplace and conjured a chair to a suitable size. "Have a seat, Davis."

"Puffapods?" Tracey looked at the table in confusion.

"Yes, we've been harvesting them lately," Anthony replied, gesturing for her to place her scarf and gloves by the fire. "This is the last batch. Please help me shell them."

In the afternoon, he deliberately stopped Professor Sprout, who was trying to help after harvesting the pods, and saved the remaining Puffapods for the evening detention. Professor Sprout mentioned that they were part of the third-year Herbology curriculum, but he wasn't surprised that Tracey could identify them.

Tracey nodded, skillfully rolling up her sleeves as she sat down. "Yes, Professor."

Anthony observed her closely and found no visible injuries on Tracey – as a necromancer, he was confident in his perception – so the good news was that she wasn't suffering from any difficult-to-heal wounds. However, the dark circles under her eyes were pronounced, accentuating her pale complexion, and she appeared tired and somewhat dazed.

"Be careful not to drop any. But I suppose you don't need further instructions?"

Tracey silently opened a pod and carefully poured the beans into the bucket. The shiny little things rolled to the bottom.

"Very good," Anthony said, pulling out a chair and sitting across from her, opening a pod of his own. "Today's detention task is these pods. You can return to your dormitory once you're finished."

The movement of the student's hands opposite him quickened slightly.

...

"How was your week?" Anthony asked, removing the full bucket and replacing it with an empty one from the table.

Tracey considered for a moment. "Very good, thank you. How about yours?"

"Excellent," Anthony replied.

After Pansy's detention ended, he had plenty of evenings free for research and lesson preparation, and the trips to the greenhouse to chat and work with Professor Sprout had been enjoyable. Hagrid had even brought him unicorn tail hairs as compensation for the lack of unicorn sightings on their outings. And since Mr. Weasley lost the bid to be their chauffeur, he had been writing relentlessly to inquire about Anthony's schedule, hoping to engineer a "chance" encounter with the students.

Tracey smiled. "That's great." She added, unprompted, "Thank you for letting me see the shooting stars last time."

Anthony critically examined a bean in his hand. "It's nothing, don't worry about it. Are there any stars to observe in your Astronomy class this Tuesday?" He held it up to the light, then tossed it into the discard pile.

"No," Tracey replied. "It's still cloudy, and we're memorizing star charts for the next lesson."

"That's unfortunate," Anthony said sympathetically. He asked half-jokingly, "Have you been on any nocturnal adventures lately, Miss Davis?"

Given the intensity in her eyes earlier, he suspected the real answer was "yes," though he didn't expect an honest response.

Tracey hesitated for a moment before replying, "No, Professor Anthony."

Anthony raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't sound like a very convincing 'no,' Davis. Where have you been sneaking off to at night?"

A fleeting smile crossed Tracey's lips, but she answered firmly, "Nowhere, Professor."

Anthony shook his head. "Well, I'll leave that question for Mr. Filch to investigate."

...

Anthony checked the beans in the bucket, then straightened up and said, "Well done, Davis. You may go."

She moved quickly, and it wasn't even curfew yet.

Tracey retrieved her gloves and scarf from the hearth, bundled up carefully, and said goodbye to Anthony. "Thank you, Professor. I'll be going now."

Anthony nodded. "Off you go. Don't let me catch you out again, Davis." He glanced at the time. "On second thought, I'll walk you back to the Slytherin common room." Based on his previous experience escorting Pansy, he estimated Tracey would arrive well past curfew if she went alone. Having a professor as an escort was always helpful.

Tracey lowered her head and accepted his offer.

She seemed to prefer a different route back to the dormitory than Pansy, leading Anthony through a maze of stairs and corridors. They ventured further and further off the beaten path, encountering fewer and fewer students. They were also getting increasingly farther from the Slytherin dungeons.

"Do you usually take this route?" he couldn't help but ask after they climbed another flight of stairs. Considering their destination was underground, Tracey was getting more exercise than he had anticipated.

Tracey, lost in thought, snapped back to reality and paled. "No... I must have taken a wrong turn."

Anthony observed her thoughtfully, catching a faint whiff of potion. He looked around – the deserted hallway, the bathroom door plastered with posters – and recognized this as the location of the Weasley twins' old laboratory, before they moved into what was now the Room of Requirement.

...

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