Through dark and damp corridors, musty smells seeping into her nostrils, she let her footsteps slap in the echoing silence. No one would see, no one could know, how bright her eyes in the dark, the joy that ran through her veins, giving her as much life as that crimson substance that coursed throughout her body. Deep in the recesses of her mind, Joan Elle Norris welcomed the smile tugging the corners of her mouth upward as she contemplated her latest and what would most likely be her best. She would bring down that simpering towhead to the level that he deserved. How would she do it? By employing one of the best techniques any master prankster had ever used: humiliation.
The corridors were rapidly brought to life by her sudden and most appropriate raucous laughter. Letting her outburst die, Joan Elle turned her head first one way, then the other, finally grinning and wandering on, as though nothing unusual had just shaken the secret corridors. Oh yes, this would be one for the history books. It would take a great deal of time for someone to top this one!
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Smells of darkened water and wet stone pursued her to her next destination: Potions class. This would be the day she pierced the pride of the blonde-locked Slytherin prince.
With a carefully practiced downward stare and bluntly chiseled blank features, Joan Elle took her accustomed place in the dungeons -- by the way, being one of the very few classrooms she enjoyed residing in -- and waited patiently, a slightly bored expression eating away at her smoothened features. She planned perfectly all the meticulous little details that would have annoyed anyone else and bored them to tears. She was completely confident all would go off without a hitch. Nothing could go wrong.
Joan Elle's classmates and fellow second-years' gradually trickled into the dungeons, most of them still eyeing the room with obvious distaste -- especially that horde of horrible prancing kittens, the Gryffindors. THOSE could never understand the delicate and oh-so-precise balance found herein.
'They are merely victims of Professor Snape's practiced art. True perfection.,' she thought with a smirk.
Absently the Slytherin noticed various students filing around her, all of them chatting amiably, gesticulating energetically at this or that. Norris noticed with great satisfaction the silence that fell when those students spotted her, and she enjoyed the awkward shuffling away from her presence. 'So . . . nothing has changed since yesterday.' Nor had she expected it to. ' No matter,' she thought to herself. ' They'll all be surprised at the change soon enough.'
Silence fell immediately as Professor Snape, Slytherin's Head of House, entered the classroom. He had this glorious talent for captivating the attention of all his students. Anyone who would dare defy him would be punished severely...or, as severely as he dared.
Eyes glittering brightly in the pale torchlight, Joan Elle allowed herself a small intake of breath -- admiration, she believed, for this amazing teacher.
As the fierce, black, billowing robes settled around his stately figure, Professor Snape made the routine glare around the room -- pausing, of course, on a few select Gryffindor faces -- before stating today's work. With a familiar sneer, the dungeons' master spoke into the drippy silence.
"Turn your books to page three-hundred seventy-four. Today's task will involve the continuing delight of concocting the antidote to a laughing potion. HERE," heads snapped up and every pair of eyes followed his pointing finger, "...are your instructions. You may begin. You have one hour."
Quickly dragging out her cauldron and several of the potion's key ingredients, Joan Elle Norris placed each carefully so as to conceal the wand she had just put under the side of one of her books. Under the pretense of looking up the potion's process in her book(for confirmation of course), Joan Elle allowed herself a seemingly lazy glance around the darkened room.
Draco Malfoy was goofing off as usual -- showing off for Parkinson, no doubt, the simpering priss. Joan Elle couldn't stand either of them . . . from Draco's white-blonde hair and pale skin to Pansy's whining, high-pitched voice and pug-snub of a nose. SHE would receive her retribution soon enough as well, but for today, Draco was her target. One person at a time, she grinned.
Shortly, she found herself frowning at something she had not noticed before. That blonde klutz...an excuse even for a Gryffindor...was sitting behind some of the Slytherins! She had obviously come too late to find a proper seat with her proper mold. 'No matter,' she thought, noting how that girl wasn't in the direct line of fire and wouldn't be much of a nuisance where she was. Rather annoying to have a kitten among the serpents, but she'd ignore that for now.
Her center boiling in anticipation, Joan Elle took a deep breath. Professor Snape had been making his rounds, disguised sneers to open disdain marring his face as he took note of each student's progress. He passed by her cauldron with a smooth blank face, barely glancing in her direction. Laughing ironically to herself, she realized her invisible act worked even on some teachers. How amusing.
Joan Elle stood up slowly, making a pretense of looking attentively into her cauldron, as though studying its current state. While doing so, she allowed her left hand to stray over to her concealed wand. All the other students but two were concentrating on their "antidotes." Draco and Parkinson seemed distracted as well, so none saw as she lifted her left arm, pointing it straight at the back of Draco Malfoy. She sneered in delight.
At that moment, a petrified first-year entered the dungeons and awkwardly wove his way to Professor Snape's side. The little unknown piped up a hesitant demand for the teacher's attention.
What luck! Joan Elle thought to herself. Just the thing to divert his attention properly -- someone younger to scare out of his wits.
Joan Elle took careful aim, muttered the two Latin-based words as incantation for HER spell, and watched in gleeful anticipation as the sparks flew toward that Slytherin brat. This would teach him . . . and if not, she had more up her sleeve. His life would be MISERABLE.
Unexpectedly though, Joan Elle spied out of the corner of her eye a golden mane of feminine hair and wide eyes behind thick spectacles flying right at her. She tried to jump out of that klutz's way, but wasn't quick enough this time. One of THAT GIRL's arms flailed out, seeking a balance she didn't have, and knocked Joan Elle's arm enough to divert her perfect charm. With a loud squawk of outrage and indignation, and a black glare to the stammering Gryffindor at her feet who was the cause of this embarrassment, Joan Elle turned around. Barely noting the stammered apology of THAT GIRL, Joan Elle was immediately drowned in the furious deep, dark eyes of the Professor.
"I will see both of you after class. And you will both take zeroes on today's assignment."
With a suddenly suppressed outburst of mirth, Joan Elle returned to her table. Professor Snape's robes were florid pink! It was no wonder the Professor looked so livid.