Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling; various publishers including, but not limited to, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books; and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
A/N: I know I already have the required 'MarySue-fic' that I don't think will ever get finished (I regret ever having posted it, but I can't bring myself to take it down…) and I'm trying not to go MarySue on this one. Ike is an OC, true, but I've tried to make her a real person – y'all will need to let me know how well I did. I know that JKR has mentioned that Snape doesn't have a daughter – and I did try to make Ike a boy… it didn't work – but… This is fanfiction. Anything is possible. To that end, I realize that not all of the music that Ike listens to had been made by fall of 1996 – the year in which this story starts – but I don't give a rat's ass. All the music I mention is actually in my own MP3 and CD collection, and I have all the songs that Ike has on her IPod as a playlist on my own.
Things move fast in this particular fic. I ain't gonna apologize for that – it's my story, damnit. grin This is a one-shot, but I like the character enough that there may end up being a sequel or other stories featuring her in the future.
Also, I'm sorry if you've been following 'All at Once,' but this idea came to me and wouldn't leave me alone. I originally thought it might be incorporated into 'All at Once,' but when I was writing out Ike's profile, I realized it didn't mesh well – or at all. I am working on the next installment for AaO, but it may take a while to get out. Between the holidays, work, and trying to sleep occasionally, I just haven't had the time to write a whole lot lately. I'd say you can probably expect the next chapter for AaO sometime in the first two weeks of February, but I won't promise anything. (I've only got one more scene to finish for the chapter, but my version of Voldemort refuses to act anything like the version Finnes plays in the GoF movie... I think I need to spank him, what do you think?)
Warnings/Spoilers: Post OotP, disregards HBP, though there are a couple of small details from book six that I've included (Not the horcruxes. They give me a headache.) Set in Harry's sixth year. Rated 'M' for language (if you don't like 'fuck,' I suggest you fuck the fuck off and go fucking read some-fucking-thing else. grin)
Sins of the Father
Ike scowled up at the court-appointed official for what had to be the thousandth time during the flight. She wondered, yet again, just why she was being forced to fly when an international portkey was not only faster, but much cheaper, as well. Before the official could repeat – for what would have to be the thousandth time during the flight – that she needed to wipe that scowl off her face because 'it isn't my fault the courts decided you would be better off with your father than emancipated,' the pilot announced that they would be landing at Heathrow in five minutes. Ike sighed and tightened her seatbelt. She was pissed off. More so now than before her mom had gotten hit by some drunkard who decided traffic was moving too slowly during an L.A. rush hour and began going ninety down the sidewalk. Ike's only consolation was that the guy had killed four other pedestrians before crashing his Pinto into the lobby of one of those high-end fashion stores where you could only shop by appointment – and that was only if you happened to be both rich and famous. Her mother died instantly, the other four weren't so lucky – two had died after several days in the hospital, one bled to death from a severed femoral artery, and the last choked to death on his own larynx. The receptionist at the store had gotten off with little else besides a few cuts and bruises.
Ike had, for the last couple of years or so, been an angry teen; now, though, she was furious. If the drunk was still alive, he'd wish he wasn't had Ike the opportunity to get her hands on him. Her mother, Cassiopeia Smith – and how, oh how Ike wished she had been named with her mother's last name, not her father's! – had been a perfectionist of the highest order. Cassiopeia demanded nothing but the absolute best from someone as insignificant as the butcher, so one can imagine the pressure she heaped upon her only daughter. Acting as most teens do, Ike, understandably, rebelled against that perfection. Instead of the aspiring-actress/model/pop star that most girls her age imagined they were – in Gucci and Prada, had they a lot of money, or GAP, if they didn't – Ike was… different. Ike purchased her wardrobe from secondhand stores like Goodwill, vintage stores like Plato's Closet, and Wal-Mart. Sometimes, if she was feeling particularly angry, she'd treat herself to something from Hot Topic. It wasn't that her mom didn't have a lot of money – as one of the lead magical researchers for Motorola, she was very highly paid – it was more that Ike wanted to prove she didn't need anyone, and so bought all her own stuff.
Her current outfit was typical of the clothes she wore: Tattered and baggy men's jeans, tied off on the right knee with a paisley scarf done in tones of hot pink and purple, held up with plain black suspenders and giant safety pins; mismatched toe-socks (today, her right sock was rainbow stripes, and her left was black-and-white stripes) encased in high-top canvas Keds that had seen better days, with laces that glowed in the dark; she also wore a bright green sports bra under a fluorescent pink mesh tank-top, a black hooded sweatshirt that was unzipped and had the logo for Pink Floyd's The Dark Side of the Moon on both the front and back, and, oddly enough, a Looney Toons tie. The tie was purple and displayed an embroidered Bugs Bunny munching on a carrot.
Ike was very tall, something she had been told she'd inherited from her father, standing at about six-two. She was also very slim, which she got from her mom. She had narrow hips, narrower shoulders, and, when combined with her height, gave most people the impression that she'd once been much shorter and been the unfortunate victim of a stretching rack. Speaking of racks, she didn't have much in that department, either. In fact, from the neck down, most people would have assumed that Ike was completely sexless. From the neck up, however, it soon became apparent that Ike was female. She had long brown hair, which she kept braided in cornrows, each braid secured with a row of multicolored beads – not something a white girl could normally pull off, but when seen as a part of her whole image, it made sense. Her hair color had come from her mom, but the reason she kept it braided was from her father. When it wasn't braided, it was lank, greasy, and needed washed at least twice a day just to keep it looking semi-presentable.
The general shape of her face was more oval than square, though it could be called either, with a high forehead, strong jaw line, and jutting chin. She had her mother's high cheekbones, crystalline blue eyes, and delicately arching eyebrows. Her right eyebrow had a silver hoop in it, her ears were each pierced several times, and she also had a tongue-ring that looked like a Valium. Though her mom had known about the piercings, Cassiopeia hadn't known about the tattoo on Ike's right arm. It was a Celtic knot, formed from a dragon, done all in black and white, and had been inked a mere three days prior to Cassiopeia's death. Ike generally liked her face – she never got zits – except for two things, both traits from her father. Her lips were much too thin, and her nose was much too large, looking more like a bird's beak than a human nose. Until she had been informed of her sudden move that morning, Ike had planned to save part of her money from her job at the YMCA to get the nose fixed once she turned eighteen. The arrival of the court official, however, obviously changed her plans.
Once the plane landed, Ike grabbed her backpack – black with red piping and a red anarchy sign embroidered onto it – and made sure she had everything. Her I-Mage notebook, MMP3 player, and Magicola flip were all in their correct pockets. Her shrunken duffels of clothes and books were likewise in the main compartment, as well as the miniaturized boxes that contained the rest of her worldly possessions.
The court official led her off the plane and through the airport to the office that housed a portkey-authorizing center for the British Ministry of Magic. After a several-hour wait, in which Ike was bored beyond belief, they were finally notified that their portkey to Hogsmeade was ready. The two of them were handed a paper cup and Ike felt the somewhat-familiar sensation of a hook grabbing her bellybutton-ring and spinning her though space to land in the back room of a bar that seemed to have ignored the last century and a half of technological development. Ike sighed, So much for hoping for a broadband connection while I'm here… At least I have my cell. Shudder. Dial-up.
The magical community of the US was very different than that of the rest of the world. Instead of ignoring technology, they embraced it and a think-tank at MIT figured out how to merge electronics with magic in the late eighties. Hence, Ike was able to have a magic-powered cellular phone, notebook computer, and an experimental MP3 player from Apple-Macintosh. In fact, her notebook was also manufactured by Macintosh, and her phone was a Motorola mage-division prototype (courtesy of her mother having been one of the researchers for said division.)
Ike was jarred from her musings on her technology by the opening of the door between the room they were in and the rest of the bar. "Good afternoon ladies," a cheerful woman greeted them. The court official smiled, returning the greeting; Ike simply ignored both of them. She did catch that the new arrival was Madam Rosmerta, and she was the owner of the… bar in which Ike now stood. Ike couldn't help it, however, when Rosmerta mentioned something that captured her attention. "…Professor Snape should be here any moment. I know he got the message, Minerva was in here just yesterday going on and on about what a shock it was…"
Professor? Thought Mom said he was a Potion Master, not a prof. Ike followed the official and Rosmerta into the main room of the tavern. Ike realized her earlier assessment of the bar was dead-on. Peering out a dusty window, she further realized that the 'town' in which it resided had likewise ignored technology; nary a streetlight or telephone pole were to be seen. And is the street cobbled? Do these folks have something against cement? Rosmerta seated Ike and the official at a corner booth and provided them both with glasses of water, per the official's request. I hope this won't take long, I'm starting to get hungry. Ike, tired of innumerable uncomfortable silences, pulled out her MMP3 player and put on the headphones. Before long, she was tapping her foot and bobbing her head to the sounds of a techno-remixed rendition of Beethoven's Fur Elise.
After about a half an hour, the door to the tavern opened to reveal a man that Ike had never before seen, yet instantly recognized. The official stood up and greeted the man. Ike was a little surprised, not many people were taller than she was, but this man had a good three or four inches on her in height. She could also see precisely where her nose and lank hair came from. All-in-all, she wondered what her mom had ever seen in this man. She hit the pause button on the MMP3 player, interrupting Catch 22's Keasbey Nights and heard, "Professor Severus Snape, may I present Miss Eileen Lenore Snape."
Ike scowled at her full name. She'd been named after both of her grandmothers. Luckily, in kindergarten, one of her classmates started calling her 'Ike' for reasons that the child never explained, and the name stuck. Ike waited while the professor signed some paperwork – it didn't take long, only a couple of minutes or so – and the official for the Orange County Magical Children's Welfare and Safety Division reactivated her portkey and disappeared.
Ike crossed her arms over her insignificant chest and glared at her father. He glared back.
"We gonna stand here all day?" Ike spat.
Snape arched an eyebrow, "And if we do?"
Ike rolled her eyes and hit the play button, music now blocking all audio input. She watched as Snape said something, then turned on his heel and strode towards the door. Ike sighed, grabbed her backpack, and followed him, idly wondering just why he was wearing a dress.
Professor Severus Snape had been sitting in the Great Hall, one week before the students were due to return, eating breakfast. His meal had been interrupted by the arrival of an owl. It landed on his plate and ate half his bacon before he could take the letter. The owl escaped whilst Snape read. It wasn't a long letter, but the implications… His past had resolutely come back to bite him in the ass.
He crumpled the letter and stalked away from the staff table, heading towards his quarters, and a tall glass of gin. He poured the gin, took a long swallow, and whispered, "Three, two, one…" And, right on cue, there was a knock on his door. "Come in, Albus."
"Bad news, I take it?" Albus asked, poking his head into Snape's sitting room, eyeing the open gin bottle and the mostly-full glass.
Snape gestured to the old, worn sofa, "You could say that."
"How bad?" Albus took a seat at the end of the sofa.
"Cassiopeia died in an automobile accident."
Albus bowed his head, "I'm sorry, Severus."
"She didn't name a guardian for Eileen. The American government is sending her here." Snape took another long swallow, coughing a little as the sharp liquid scraped through his throat.
"When?"
"Friday." The two Hogwarts professors sat in companionable silence for several minutes. During that time, Snape finished his glass of gin.
"I don't think drinking will help matters," Albus chided when Snape reached for the bottle again.
"I don't know what else to do."
"You could start with having the elves add another bedroom and bath to your quarters."
"Why would I bother when I know you'll have them here as soon as you leave?"
Albus nodded, smiling a little. "Too true."
"Merlin, Albus, I haven't even seen her since she was six weeks old…"
"I would imagine she's somewhat taller now."
Snape chuckled a little, "I would imagine so."
"I know you thought you had… come to terms with what happened between you and Cassiopeia, but it's obvious that this is bothering you more than you thought it would."
Snape snorted, "Cassie wasn't supposed to die, Albus. She wasn't supposed to die and leave Eileen to me! Me! She bloody left and then demanded I never contact her again – which I never did, and then she goes and does something like this!"
Albus stood and laid a hand on Snape's shoulder, "It wasn't done on purpose, Severus."
Snape sat the gin bottle back on the liquor cabinet, "I know." He hung his head. "I know, damnit!" His voice broke on the last word, and without knowing quite how he got there, he soon found himself being hugged by a surprisingly strong Dumbledore while he mourned the loss of his Cassie for the second time.
Friday morning, Snape surveyed the additions to his quarters. A second bedroom had been added off of the sitting room, with its own bathroom next to a closet. Since his quarters were in the dungeons, there weren't any windows. The walls, ceiling, and floor were all grey stone, and the bathroom was like his own, a slightly lighter shade of gray. A smallish desk sat under some shelves that were bracketed to the wall, both the desk and the shelves were a middling shade of brown wood, a little worse for wear, but perfectly serviceable. A tall, narrow dresser was in the opposite corner from the desk, next to the door to the closet. A narrow bed, identical to the ones in the student dormitories, stood at a right angle to the wall across from the door to the sitting room, a matching night stand next to it.
As he got ready to walk down to Hogsmeade to greet the daughter he had thought he would never see again, he realized that Albus had to have notified the rest of the faculty by now, as he had missed the scheduled staff meeting the previous afternoon in order to supervise the changes to his quarters. He had to smile a little, I wonder what the expression on Minerva's face was when she found out? He was pulled from his daydream by a soft chime from his pocket watch. It was time to go.
Snape's first impression of his daughter was, Merlin! Didn't she inherit any of my good features? His second thought was, And just what is she wearing? Following closely on the heels of that thought was, I wish Cassie were here. Before that thought could go any further, though, he was busy signing paperwork for the American official. When he finished, the official left, and he silently stared at Eileen. Eileen was trying to glare at him. Sorry, Eileen. I've been glared at by harsher witches than you. Your mum was a champion…
Eileen crossed her arms over the absurd muggle tie. "We gonna stand here all day?"
Teenagers… No patience. Maybe this won't be as difficult as I thought. Snape arched an eyebrow, "And if we do?" he asked in his best 'do-not-irritate-the-teacher' voice.
Eileen rolled her eyes and fiddled with some sort of gadget on a cord around her neck. "The castle is a short walk from here. If you'll follow me?" He turned and headed for the door. Eileen joined him outside shortly thereafter.
Ike followed the man through a long forested path. Her stomach was rumbling, protesting the twelve hours since she'd last eaten. How much further is his damn house? Why didn't he just apparate there?
Suddenly, Snape stopped and turned to face her. His mouth was moving, and Ike took a moment to reflect that it was rather like watching one of those old Jackie Chan movies that had originally been filmed in Chinese and dubbed over in English. His mouth absolutely didn't match up with the Doors' People Are Strange. She hit the pause button again, and heard, "…apparation boundary. As a professor, I am expected to spend both the Christmas and Easter holidays at the castle, as well as the first three days and last week of the summer holiday."
Ike wondered briefly what he'd said prior to her turning off her music. Hell, don't matter much, does it? Snape whirled around again and led her through an old double-gate. She stopped short at her first sight of the castle. He lives here? Thought Mom said he wasn't rich… Her thoughts were interrupted by Snape's voice. "While here, I expect you to be on your best behavior. You will show the professors your respect, and follow all school rules. I will provide you with a copy of the Hogwarts Charter, which you will read and commit to memory…"
Ike tuned out the lecture as she followed Snape through the entrance hall, only really paying attention when he mentioned important things, like where meals were served. He led her down a hall that imperceptibly slanted downwards, before turning to go down another hall, several staircases, and still another hall. Just where the fuck are we going? China, by way of Hell? Eventually, Snape stopped at a door that looked like it had been taken directly out of tales from the Spanish Inquisition; it was heavy, dark wood, bound with iron strips, arched overhead – though not far – and had a rectangular, barred window hovering at eye-level. The hinges were on the hall-side of the door. If this is my room, I'm going home. This door is a security nightmare! I wouldn't even bother locking it, any idiot could just take the pins out of the hinges and open it that way!
"This door is the indicator to the entrance to my quarters. As I mentioned earlier, Hogwarts' hallways aren't always what they seem. That particular door is merely the hallway pretending to be a door, and just across from it," he pointed to the blank wall on the other side of the hall, "is the actual door, pretending to be a wall."
Huh? Ike blinked. She blinked again when Snape ducked through what appeared to be a solid wall. If I end up as part of the masonry around here, I'm gonna kill someone… She squeezed her eyes shut and followed. When it became obvious that she wasn't encased in stone and mortar, she slowly opened them. The room she was in was roughly the size of three postage stamps, strung together. It was longer than it was wide, and was made even more cramped by the stacks and piles of books and scrolls everywhere, not to mention the bookshelves that covered every inch of wall space. Threadbare throw-rugs were visible here and there under the books. There was a battered old wooden desk just to one side of the door, sitting at an angle to the rest of that wall, several open tomes and thick rolls of parchment were stacked on it. The only available seating seemed to be a worn brown sofa at the far end of the room, sitting in front of a fireplace. The room was lit by balls of mage-light that hovered near the ceiling. Sandwiched in amongst the bookshelves, Ike counted three doors down the right wall. She hoped one led to a kitchen.
Snape stood next to a particularly tall stack of thick books, and pointed to each door. "My room," was the door closest to the fireplace and sofa, "my lab," was the door in the middle of the wall, and "your room," was the one closest to the door to the hall. "You will not enter my laboratory or bedroom without express permission. You will leave all books and scrolls where they are." He checked his pocket watch. "Lunch finished a half an hour ago, and dinner will be served at six. I'll leave you to unpack." He disappeared through the door to his own room.
Bastard, Ike thought. He could have at least let me get something to eat from that dirty little pub'n'grub I arrived in. She sullenly picked her way around the mounds of books and scrolls, refraining from demolishing their haphazard stacks by force of will alone, to her room. She opened the door and dropped her backpack in shock. The room was the size of her old closet back home, about ten feet long and twelve or so wide. "I can't be expected to live here!"
She knew, though, that this… room was hers for the duration. She upended her bag on the bed, miniature boxes and bags tumbling out to cover most of its surface. She picked through them until she found the box she was looking for. It took her a further half-hour to remember what she did with her wand. She found it in the side-pocket of her backpack that had been designed with pens and pencils in mind. She used it to resize the box, setting it down on the bed when she was done, and using her pocket knife to cut the tape on the box. Pulling out a certified-organic granola bar and bottle of mineral water, she wondered just how she was going to be able to store all her things.
It wasn't until she noticed that the ceilings in this suite of rooms were a good fifteen feet high that inspiration dawned. She tucked the granola wrapper into her pocket and used the last of the mineral water to rinse out her mouth before heading to Snape's room. She knocked loudly before flinging the door open. Snape was sitting in a wingback chair that was just as worn and old as the rest of the furnishings, reading a glossy magazine.
"How do I change my room?"
"Call one of the house elves," Snape replied, not even looking up from his magazine.
Ike slammed the door shut and ran back to her room. "House elf!" she shouted.
A second later, the strangest house elf she'd ever seen popped into existence directly in front of her. It was wearing a stack of knitted hats that nearly doubled his height, and several mismatched socks on his feet. He also seemed to be wearing a shrunken sweater, a kilt, and the cummerbund off a tuxedo. "How can Dobby be helping miss?"
"Dobby?" Ike repeated, incredulous.
The elf nodded, "Would miss be liking some tea and biscuits?"
Ike shook herself, Things are definitely weirder here than back home. "No. I need to adjust my room."
"Dobby would be happy to help," the elf smiled eagerly. "What would miss be needing? Carpet? More shelves?"
"Not just yet," she replied. "First off, I need to know if you can raise the ceiling another five feet or so."
Dobby nodded vigorously, and Ike wondered how the hats stayed on his head. "Dobby can be doing that."
"Good, after that's done, I'll need…" she spent the next ten minutes outlining just what she wanted the elf to do.
Changing an existing room in Hogwarts was much easier than adding a new room, and an hour later, all the changes Ike had requested were completed. Dobby bowed low and asked, "Was there anything else Miss Ike needed?"
"Yeah… I missed lunch, and could do with something to eat." Dobby grinned and went to snap his fingers, Ike held up a hand to forestall him. "Just a sec, Dobby. I don't eat meat, eggs, fish, poultry, or anything dairy. You do know what things are dairy, right?"
Dobby nodded again, "Ice cream, cheese, butter, cottage cheese, whipped cream, half-and-half, milk, cottage cheese –"
"That's enough." Ike mentally sighed. She didn't much care for dealing with house elves, but this one seemed to be more tolerable than most. "Do you know what 'organic foods' are?"
Dobby shook his head, "No, Miss Ike."
"They're foods that are grown without the use of pesticides and chemical fertilizers."
"Oh, like the foods that elves help Hagrid grow for the school."
"Good. I don't like eating things that aren't organic. So, with all that in mind, do you think you can come up with something for me to eat?"
Dobby nodded yet again and popped out of the room. Ike turned back to the changes the elf had made for her and nodded. It ain't home, but it's better than it was. The ceiling had been raised to the required twenty feet, and a second floor had been added that covered most of the existing room, so each area had ten-foot ceilings. Dobby had moved the bed, chest of drawers, and desk to the second level for her. He had also added full-length windows along the wall farthest from the door. Granted, they weren't real windows, but they did show her a spectacular view of the Scotland highlands, and would not only give her some natural light, but also let her know roughly what the weather outside was like.
Dobby reappeared just as Ike was about to start unpacking, carrying a covered tray. He sat it on her desk. "Is there anything else Miss Ike is needing?"
Ike shook her head, "Nope. Just a little time."
After the elf disappeared, Ike removed the cover on the tray and smiled. The elf had done well. There was a bowl of thick vegetable stew in a tomato base, several slices of apple, some bread, and a pot of tea. She quickly ate, idly wondering where she'd packed her book of vegan recipes – she was sure the cooks, be they elves or other, would benefit from having additional recipes. Besides, there was a vegan lasagna she was particularly fond of on page ninety-six. When she finished her lunch, she set to the mammoth task of unpacking her belongings.
She was just finishing up when Snape appeared in the doorway.
Severus Snape had spent the majority of the time between hiding in his room and dinner lost in memories while trying – and failing – to read the latest issue of Potion Digest. When the clock on the mantle of the fireplace in the sitting room chimed a quarter to six, he pulled himself out of his maudlin memories and headed for Eileen's room. He hoped that she was done unpacking. Once dinner was over, there would no doubt be uncomfortable questions he didn't know if he was prepared to answer. Opening the door to Eileen's room, he stopped short and stared.
How could all this, even shrunk, fit into that bag of hers? He had noticed that she'd added a second floor to her room, and reflected that it was probably a good idea, considering.
The area under the upper portion of her room closest to the magical windows was the only place that wasn't crowded with things. There were two unidentifiable contraptions, a thick blue mat, and what looked to be a duffle bag hanging from a chain attached to the ceiling. Closer to the door were several pieces of furniture Snape knew Eileen had to have brought with her; there were two large, spherical pillows – nudging one with a foot it shifted with a strange crinkly noise, indicating it was definitely not filled with feathers – one was black with a large red 'A' in a giant circle, the other was bright yellow and boasted a smiley-face; they were sitting on either end of a shiny clear plastic sofa. Between the pillows and the sofa were two crates, likewise made of plastic, both red with white lettering that said 'AE' on them. On the crate to the left of the sofa was a strange ball that appeared to be generating lightning, the other held a lamp that was currently oozing red globules through a clear liquid. Snape noticed ekletrikal cords coming off of both of them and wondered how they were functioning in such a magic-heavy area as Hogwarts.
Directly across from the inflatable sofa was a low table with several shelves under it. Snape had seen a television once, when he was about twenty, and immediately recognized the contraption that was sitting on top of the table. There were three small boxy-looking gadgets on the shelves under the television which he couldn't put a use to. He noticed the ekletrikal cords for them snaking their way between the table and the wall down to the floor, where they were held in place with strips of shiny silver tape. Following the trail of tape under a furry burgundy rug, under the blue mat, to the furthest corner of the room, he noticed a largish yellow box. It hummed faintly and had several glowing lights on its surface. Printed on its side was 'Briggs/Stratton Magic/Electricity Converter Model A698-244-BFG-9000 AC/DC compatible.'
In addition to the sitting area and that area with the blue mat, Eileen also had either increased the number of shelves available or, like next to the television, had brought her own. There were a number of thin, plastic cases with things written on them like 'The Princess Bride,' and 'The Last House on the Left.' On the same shelf unit, there were also bright boxes with legends like 'A Nightmare on Elm Street,' 'Gremlins,' and 'West Side Story.' Snape wasn't sure what they were, but he knew they weren't books. On the shelf on the other side of the television were still more of the plastic cases and boxes, and the bottom shelf had numerous smaller plastic cases, these had tiny writing proclaiming things like 'Mortal Kombat IV,' 'Doom,' 'Grand Theft Auto,' and 'Resident Evil.' He noticed a tall black thing that vaguely resembled a wizarding wireless between the sitting area and the area with the blue mat. There was a large wire shelf hanging on the wall, looking like nothing so much as the outline of a giant salamander, holding numerous plastic cases like those on the shelf near the television, only these said things like 'NIN – The Downward Spiral,' 'Korn – Follow the Leader,' 'Pink Floyd – Meddle,' and 'HIM – Razorblade Romance.'
Snape figured that Eileen must have moved her bed and desk to the second level. He was just about to climb the ladder to said area when Eileen peeked over the balustrade and saw him. She used a pole on the other side of the ladder to slide down.
While unpacking, Ike had grown rather warm and discarded her sweatshirt. She leveled a challenging glare at Snape who had noticed her attire with a quirked eyebrow. "What?" she ground out.
"Dinner will be served in approximately fifteen minutes. I trust that is ample time for you to change into something more appropriate?"
Ike looked down. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing? I ain't showing nothing that'd get me arrested. What more could you want?"
Snape mentally rubbed his temples. Perhaps this will be as hard as I thought. Out loud, he replied, "Change, now." He swept from the room before Eileen could argue with him.
"Bastard," Ike hissed at the closed door. "Who does he think he is?" She stomped over to her closet and began searching through her clothes, grumbling to herself. "He walked out on Mom and me! And now, just because I'm forced here, he thinks he's got some right to dictate my life? Sure, it's just clothes right now, but how long before he starts saying, 'Oh, no, you can't go there,' or 'Don't talk to them…'" She located what she was looking for and was changed in three minutes flat. She lingered in her room, though. She wasn't about to give an inch where her father was concerned.
At five minutes to six, there was an abrupt knock on her door and Snape's voice came through the wood of the door, "I trust you are rather more presentable?"
"Whatever," she shouted back.
"Can you remember the way to the Great Hall, or do you require a guide?"
"I'll get there," she replied. Just fucking leave me the hell alone, asshole.
"If you aren't there by six-thirty, I'll send an elf for you."
Ike listened at the door until she heard the outer door to the suite shut. This should be… interesting. She gave Snape a good five-minute head start before leaving the suite herself. It took about ten minutes for her to realize that she should have paid closer attention to Snape on their way to the suite; she was lost. She growled a little and clicked her fingers, "Dobby!"
"What is Miss Ike needing?" the elf in question asked, popping into the space directly in front of her.
"Show me how to get to the damn Great Hall," she demanded.
Dobby bowed, "It's this way, Miss Ike."
Ike followed the little elf through the twisting dungeon corridors until she recognized a statue. "Thanks, Dobby. I think I can find my way from here."
The elf nodded and popped away.
Once Ike had reached the large double-doors that led to the Great Hall, she paused. What kind of entrance to make? she mused. She noticed a crack of about an inch or so between the bottom of the doors and the floor. Ike stretched out on the floor and peered through it. There were roughly a dozen adults sitting at a raised table at the far end of the room, with four long tables at a right angle to it covering the rest of the room.
Meh, not enough people to bother with a grand entrance. She got to her feet and brushed her clothes off. The clock on her phone indicated that it was twenty past the hour. She merely pushed the door open a crack and slipped through, unnoticed by most of the adults at the table. The one who saw her was an ancient old man sitting in the exact middle of the table. Must be the principal. She kept her face expressionless and made her way to the table, neither hurrying nor lingering.
One-by-one the other adults noticed her. Her father looked up from his plate when she was still about fifteen feet from the raised dais. She narrowed her eyes at him, smirking, daring him to say anything about her outfit.
She was wearing a skirt she'd made in her seventh-grade home-ec class; at the time, it had been long enough to pass her school's dress-code, and now that she was a full foot taller, though no wider, it showed off a good eight inches of leg above her knees. The skirt itself was black, pleated like a cheerleader's uniform, and had metal D-rings holding several accent chains in place. Her top was a tight black fishnet t-shirt over her green sports bra, showing off both her tattoo and naval-ring. The fishnet was repeated over her legs, and her feet were now encased in tall motorcycle boots with steel caps over the toes. She had also coiled her cornrows into a messy pile on her head, securing them in place with her wand. And she was wearing a black velvet, spiked collar.
She stopped directly in front of her father. "Where do I sit?"
The old man in the center of the table stood, "Good evening, Miss Snape –"
"Ike," she corrected, glancing at the man.
"By all means," he nodded. "Please, sit anywhere and feel free to help yourself to the food."
Ike took a plate from one of the untenanted places on the table and looked over the options. The beef dish was definitely out of the question, as was whatever cheesy thing was sitting in the soup tureen. She checked the bread, and noticed that it'd been pre-buttered. She rolled her eyes. Even the bowls of cooked vegetables were covered in butter. This place is a cardiologist's dream; I can practically hear their arteries hardening. After determining that the only vegan-friendly thing on the table was the tea, she took her plate to one of the other tables and called Dobby.
"Yes, Miss Ike?"
"Remember what I said about what I can eat?"
The elf nodded.
"Dinner, please, and make sure you've got something I can eat for lunch and dinner from here on out. I don't eat breakfast."
"Yes, Miss Ike!" The elf popped away again.
"There is nothing wrong with the food available, Eileen." Snape said from his place at the table.
Ike scoffed, "Like hell there isn't." She stood up and strode to the table, pointing to each dish in turn, "This one contains meat, this one has butter, more butter, still more butter, more meat-products, this one has cheese, eggs, and butter. Honestly, how can you people eat this crap?"
"That's enough," Snape sounded a touch angry.
Ike crossed her arms over her chest, "No, I don't think it is."
By now the rest of the teachers present were watching the interaction, trying to hide small smiles. Dumbledore, on the other hand, was grinning outright.
"Sit down, Eileen, and eat what has been prepared or eat nothing at all."
"Fuck you," Ike casually replied. "All I've had to eat today has been a bowl of soup, a couple of apple slices, and some bread. Oh, and a granola bar. I'm fucking hungry, and I don't eat animals or their by-products. I'm sorry if this sounds weird to you, but I much prefer being healthy and not killing innocent animals just so that I can roast their muscle mass. And dairy? Puh-leese! Tell me how drinking the bodily secretions of another species is healthy? Not to mention doctoring it with a multitude of bacteria, an overabundance of sugar, or merely condensing the fat out of it! And don't get me started on chicken abortions!"
By this point, some of the other teachers were looking a little green. Snape was speechless, something that those teachers who weren't currently bombarded with unpleasant mental images were shocked to see. Minerva was grinning like the proverbial cat that ate the canary. "Well, Severus," she whispered, leaning over to him, "she's definitely yours."
Snape had a headache. A big one. It felt as though someone had banished an erumpent directly into his skull. He was trying to ignore it, though. After the scene at dinner, he'd shut himself into his laboratory. Just what on Earth did Cassie tell her? he wondered. And how – HOW!! – did Cassie raise such a foul-tempered brat? He attended several of the potions he had simmering for the hospital wing before heading to his room and some much-needed rest.
As tired as Ike was, she was currently ignoring it in favor of jogging on her treadmill to the sounds of Slipknot's Iowa album. I hate it here. My phone has no signal this far down – there's too much stone in the way. The food is horrendous. I miss my friends. I miss my home. Her thoughts continued much in the same vein for nearly an hour. When she'd finally run out of mental complaints about Hogwarts and the bastard she happened to be related to, she stepped off the treadmill and took a hurried shower. When she finished, she dried off, wrapped her braids in a terrycloth turban, and crawled into bed. Sleep was slow in coming, the mattress was a far cry from her bed back home, not to mention that it was a good four feet narrower and a full foot shorter. She felt cramped on the lumpy mattress and resolved to have Dobby enlarge it in the morning – she was just too tired to deal with it right then.
Saturday, August 31 found Snape wondering if the entire previous few days had been naught but a nightmare. To his dismay, that hope was thoroughly dashed when he poked his head out of his room and saw the new door at the end of the sitting room. He sighed and got dressed for the day. When he went to collect Eileen for breakfast at seven-thirty, he paused outside her door. There was a heavy rhythmic thumping noise coming from the room, along with muffled cries and shouts.
Not knowing precisely what was going on, he slipped his wand into his hand and crouched down, opening the door a crack.
Eileen was dressed in a pair of black trousers and a red sports bra, her braids pulled back into a pony tail, and was beating on the duffle hanging from the ceiling. Barefoot, she lunged forward, and hit the duffle three times in rapid succession, each punch accented with a shout. Without any warning, the noise coming from the wireless set stopped. Eileen seemed to be expecting it, though, and grabbed a small black rectangle. She aimed it at the wireless and soon another series of thumps and metallic screeches started. This time there were words, too.
'Lets go!
Everybody needs to start their own fire,
Everybody needs to riot on their own,
Everybody needs to be something that they're not,
Everybody needs to go it alone
Because!
Livin' so free is a tragedy,
When you can't be what you want to be,
Livin' so free is a tragedy,
When you can't see what you need to see…'
(Powerman 5000, 'Free.' Reprinted without permission.)
Eileen walked over to one of the contraptions near the window while the introduction of the song played, and just as the lyrics picked up, she climbed onto the gadget and started running at full speed. Snape could hear her singing – badly – along with the 'music.'
Snape strode over to the wireless and examined it in closer detail, even though being near the thing allowed him not only to hear the noise, but feel it, too. He saw a glowing red button labeled 'power' and pressed it. The sudden silence was deafening. Snape let out an inaudible sigh of relief.
"What the fuck?!" Eileen whipped her head around, still running, and saw Snape standing in her room. "Oh, it's you." She returned her gaze to looking out the window. "Was there a reason you interrupted my morning workout, or did you just want to see how irritated you could make me today?"
Snape was still rather unsure of how to act towards his daughter. "Breakfast will be served in the Great Hall in half an hour," he said, walking to where Eileen was running in place.
"Piss off. I'm busy."
"At nine o'clock, we will need to get your Hogwarts uniform. The other students will be arriving tomorrow evening. Classes start Monday, and you will be expected to join the other sixth-years."
There was a beep from the machine and Eileen slowed her pace to a slow jog. "So? Like I fucking care."
"I would have thought you would be looking forward to meeting others your own age."
Eileen scoffed, "Not particularly. What I want is to go fucking home."
"That is not an option, Eileen. Until your seventeenth birthday – which is, if I recall correctly, the thirtieth of May – Hogwarts is your home. After that, it is up to you what you do with your life, provided it does not include leaving the wizarding world. Should you wish to return to the muggle world, or the US, you will need to resign yourself to staying here until your eighteenth birthday." Snape recited the information with less enthusiasm than reciting from a dictionary would warrant.
"Fucking figures," Ike grumbled to herself while turning a knob on the treadmill to raise the front edge by several inches.
"And that is another thing we need to discuss, Eileen." Snape scanned the contraption his daughter was running on, hoping to see another helpful little button labeled 'power.' To his dismay, there wasn't one.
"What the fuck is that?" Ike didn't bother moving her head to look at Snape.
"When the other students arrive, I trust you will conduct yourself in a manner befitting a young lady of your age, and not like a seasoned auror."
"What the fuck are you on about?"
"Your language, Eileen."
Ike snorted, "Fuck off. I'll talk how I want to, and there ain't nothing you can do to stop me."
"Isn't there?" Snape didn't like being challenged by the students, let alone his own daughter. "I think not, Eileen." Ike scoffed. "To begin with, you own a plethora of items that, if not directly on the contraband list, would be put there in an instant should a teacher of this school complain to the headmaster about them providing distraction during class time. Such items are, once they've been added to the list, prohibited from the grounds."
"Fuck that!" Ike shouted. Eileen hit a button on the machine and whirled around to face him, the beaded ends of her braids narrowly missing hitting him in the face. "What's going on here is between you and me, leave your boss out of it! The way I see it, I don't wanna be here no more than you want me here, so why don't you do me a favor and stay the fuck away from me!"
Snape closed his eyes and wondered once more just what Cassie had done to his baby girl. "I'm afraid I can't do that, Eileen. I know you don't want to be here, and I'm sorry Cassie died, but what happened, happened. You can't change that, no more than I can, but do not assume things about me you don't know!" The last bit was hissed through clenched teeth.
"Puh-leese!" there was a fire in her eyes that Snape had last seen in the eyes of Cassie during their final fight, all those years ago. "From what Mom told me, you fucking walked out on us when I was a baby! I've gone my entire fucking life without so much as a fucking birthday card from you, and now, just because Mom's fucking dead, and I fucking get shipped off to you, you expect me to believe you fucking care?! I'm more than capable of taking care of my goddamn self, so why don't you just back the fuck off and leave me the hell alone! It's not like it's all that hard! You've been doing that my entire life, so why change now?"
"Is that what she told you?" Snape asked, and had any of his students been present, they likely could have told Ike that she was treading on dangerous ground; not normal dangerous ground, either, but the 'oh-fuck!-I'm-paired-with-both-Potter-and-Longbottom-for-my-project' type. "That I walked out on you?"
"Yeah, that's what she told me," Ike replied, her voice barely above a whisper, yet still laden with a lifetime of being told that the man before her was the biggest mistake her mother ever made. Ike had always been good at reading between the lines, and about the time she turned fourteen or so, she understood that though her mother had never come out and said it, Ike herself, as an extension of Snape, was part of that mistake.
"That's not true… Tell me, Eileen, if I had been the one to walk out on you, why is it I'm still here – in Britain – and she set off for the US? Why is it that you were raised in Los Angeles and not in Spinner's End?" Snape's quiet words seemed to affect her more than shouting would have. "In truth, your mother walked out on me, taking you with her. Tell me, Eileen, what was your mother's last name? When she had been here, it was 'Witherspoon.' I know she changed it to Smith shortly after she disappeared to the US, in an effort to keep me from finding you. It worked rather well, too, until you started school. Did you know there's only one other person in the whole of the US who started primary school the same year as you with the last name 'Snape?' His first name is 'Maximillion' and, at the time, was living with his family in Connecticut.
"I tried to find you, Eileen. I sent letters, they came back unopened. I sent presents befitting a child your age, they, likewise, were returned unopened. When you were twelve, your mother sent me a notice saying that any further attempted contact would be met with court intervention." While speaking, Snape's voice had grown imperceptibly louder and harder. "With that in mind, Eileen, I suggest you stow your hostility. This wasn't my fault."
Ike was a little shocked. Strike that, she was very shocked. She tried to say something, anything, and found her mouth was rather dry. She got off of the treadmill and grabbed her water-bottle from the crate next to her sofa. With her mouth thoroughly wetted, she simply said what was foremost on her mind. "Prove it."
Snape spun on his heel and stalked out of the room. "Get dressed," lingered in the air for several minutes after the door slammed shut between them.
Ike hurriedly rinsed off in the shower, then pulled on a pair of men's jeans – women's jeans were all either too short in the leg or fell off her nonexistent hips – held up by a pair of rainbow suspenders over a t-shirt that had 'Can't sleep, clowns'll eat me' printed in row after row of shaky white text that got smaller with each row. She tied the laces of her Keds and hurried out after Snape. She didn't have to go far, he was sitting on the sofa in the sitting room, an open trunk at his feet. He gestured for her to go ahead and look.
As she thumbed through pile after pile of returned mail, she heard Snape get up and leave. She assumed he was going to breakfast. Most of the letters were addressed to her; only a couple were addressed to her mother. There were twenty-three packages in the trunk, all wrapped in brown paper. She tugged the trunk into her room, and sitting on the anarchy beanbag, sorted all the packages and letters into chronological order. Then she began reading.
And reading.
And reading.
Every now and then, a line or phrase would leap out at her.
…hope you're happy in California, and now that you have started school…
…understand that though your mother and I may have had our differences, I still wish I could have been there for you…
…wonder what you look like now, your mother refuses to send me photographs…
…hope your studies are going well…
…read that you received first-place in the California State Science Fair this spring…
…hope you are doing well…
…wish I could have been there…
…wish your mother and I had been able to work out our differences…
When she reached the last of the letters, she drew a shaky breath. She hadn't realized she'd been crying silently for the last half-hour. She hadn't even bothered with opening the presents, yet. She climbed up the ladder and laid down on her too-small bed. It's all there… Every missed birthday, every missed Christmas. A letter every two or three weeks, and I never knew! Mom never told me! Why? Why didn't she let me know that my father wanted to keep in touch? Why'd she let me believe he was some fuck-hole who walked out on us?
Ike, who was still barely coming to grips with her mother's death the previous week, was now bombarded by the fact that a basic truth upon which much of her life had been based was, in actuality, false, couldn't deal with it. She buried her head under her pillow and cried herself to sleep.
Severus Snape was, by his nature, a rather private individual. It had taken every ounce of willpower he possessed to retrieve that trunk of letters and packages. He didn't feel much like dealing with his co-workers that morning, so he took himself to the kitchen and requested some eggs and coffee. When he finished with breakfast, he felt moderately better and more up to dealing with life in general. He slowly made his way to the Great Hall, and got there just as Albus was beginning the staff meeting. Since it was the last staff meeting before the students arrived, there wasn't much to discuss. Snape confirmed that the Slytherin dormitory was prepped and ready for occupancy, and that all potions for the hospital wing would be bottled and delivered before the train was due to arrive that evening.
When the meeting drew to a close, Severus was surprised to find himself pulled aside by none other than Minerva. "Was there something you needed, Minerva?"
"How are things going with Eileen?"
"You saw it yourself yesterday. Do you really expect things to have improved in the last fourteen hours?"
Minerva smiled a little, "One could hope."
Severus snorted, "Not likely."
"Now, Severus, don't be pessimistic. No one can be expected to take all this in stride; I'm sure if you just give the girl time, she'll come around."
"That's the problem with you Gryffindors – you're too bloody optimistic."
Minerva chuckled, "You might be right, Severus. But house issues aside, if you need advice, feel free to come to me."
Snape arched an eyebrow in her direction. "And just why would I do that?"
Minerva ignored his incredulous look. "Maybe because, with the exception of Albus, I'm the only other member of staff that has had children of their own." She glanced at her watch, "Now, Severus, please excuse me. I need to finish organizing my classroom."
"You had the last week to finish that," Snape pointed out. "Why leave it to the last minute?"
"Had any Weasley ever been sorted to Slytherin, you'd understand," Minerva replied, hurrying out the door.
Snape steeled himself for what he was sure was going to be another argument with Eileen before heading towards his quarters. To his surprise, Eileen was not in the living room. Neither was the trunk. He approached the door to her room and listened for a moment. When he heard nothing, he cracked the door open a tiny bit and saw the trunk had been pulled up next to one of the large pillows. Parchment was stacked around it in orderly rows. He could see that none of the packages had been touched. Leaning a little further into the room, he saw that Eileen wasn't on the lower level. He quickly stepped into the room.
Grabbing the ladder to the second floor, he thought, She'd better not have run off… Climbing a couple of rungs, he spotted feet sticking off the end of her bed. He breathed a little sigh of relief, That would have been the shortest stint in parenting history, less than twenty-four hours. Grimacing at the soft snores coming from Eileen – yet something else they had in common – he pulled his wand and carefully enlarged the bed around her, until her feet were no longer dangling off the end.
He took a moment to get a better look at Eileen. While sleeping, the frown-lines in her forehead had smoothed out, and she looked closer to her actual age, not ten years older. He could see a lot of Cassiopeia in her, something which he had mixed feelings about, and he could also see a lot of himself in her. Sorry about the nose, Eileen. I'd hoped you managed to escape that particular trait… He shook his head at the number of holes she had – piercings weren't that common in the wizarding world, not even very many of the women had any. He quite liked her tattoo, though, and smiled a little at the knowledge that Cassie would have hated it.
Eileen stirred a little and mumbled something incomprehensible. Snape shook himself and hurried down the ladder and to his lab to finish bottling Pomfrey's supplies.
Ike slowly woke up. Her face felt grimy, and her nose was all stuffy. I hate crying, she thought, heading for her bathroom. Always gives me a headache, too. She washed her face and helped herself to an Excedrin Migraine. While waiting for the painkiller to kick in, she headed back to the trunk of letters and packages. I really don't understand… Mom was so mad at him… but she left him? Why? And if she didn't want me, why take me with her? She flopped down on the anarchy beanbag and set to putting the letters away. The clock on her VCR said that it was nearing noon and she wondered momentarily what happened to that nine o'clock appointment Snape had told her about before shrugging it off. With the letters packed back into the trunk, she started to reach for the packages to put them away too, but paused with the first still in her hands.
The familiar spiky script showed her name, and she vaguely recalled that in the UK, magical birds were used to deliver mail. I suppose an address isn't needed in that case. Ike's fingers traced the name. Do I want to know? She nodded to herself, answering her own question. Her slightly-chewed fingernails found a seam in the brown paper and ripped it off the box. It contained a plush doll that had red yarn hair, a blue gingham dress, and large button eyes. It would have been her Christmas present for the year right before her first birthday. She crumpled the paper and stuffed it into the box, setting the doll on the inflatable sofa before reaching for the next box.
For her first birthday, she would have received a stack of several magical Learn-to-Read books. Along the same lines as 'Dick and Jane' in the US, the books were simple stories about a young witch named Sally and her brother, Mark. When individual words were tapped, the word would be said aloud, and if it was a noun, the corresponding picture would cause the appropriate image to blink.
Her second Christmas present from Snape would have been a training wand. The only thing it could do, until a parent unlocked the other capabilities, was change the color of the personal possessions of the child to which it would be tuned. The idea was that as a child grew older, the early training would be of benefit when he or she finally received formal magical education. Ike further knew that such training wands were illegal in the UK, though that was not the case in the US. She'd received one from her mom for her fifth birthday, and had traded it for her current wand when she was fourteen and began going to the Los Angeles Magical Institute – or LAMI for short.
She continued going through all the packages one-by-one. There were several more toys, a toy broom, and more books. The present that would have been for her eleventh birthday was a real wand. The letter enclosed with it said that it had been her grandmother's, and even if she didn't use it, Snape wanted her to have it. For Christmas that year, she would have received a charm bracelet. It came with three charms on it: a miniature cauldron to symbolize her father, a miniature nonmagical portrait of her mother when she was young, and a tiny silver wishing-well for luck. The last present would have been for her twelfth birthday. Opening the package, Ike caught her breath. It was a gold and glass and crystal music box in the shape of a small carousel. Crystal unicorns on gold poles marched around a mirrored centerpiece to the strains of Beethoven's Fur Elise – her favorite piece of classical music.
Ike had no idea what to think. Her world – something she'd thought she'd understood perfectly – had radically changed in the last couple of days, and again in the last few hours. The stones upon which she'd built her life – the fact that her father was a dead-beat, the fact that he never wanted anything to do with her – had suffered severe structural failure. She'd known on one level or another that her mom hadn't really wanted kids and her mom's tendency to expect perfection from an imperfect daughter had led Ike to realizing that the only one she would ever be able to please was herself. Ike hadn't counted on having that foundation so horribly shaken, but the proof was staring her in the face. The only thing she could think was, Why?
Snape's pocket watch chimed, indicating that the time for Eileen's rescheduled appointment at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions was rapidly approaching. He finished bottling the last of the pepper-up potion and flooed it to Pomfrey's office. He quickly washed his hands and hung his work-robes on the peg behind the door to his lab before heading towards Eileen's room.
As before, he paused outside, listening. There was the faint sounds of a music-box playing. Snape winced. Sounds like she opened the presents… He knocked and opened the door. "It is time to go get your uniforms, Eileen."
Eileen was sitting on the black pillow on the floor, staring at the carousel music-box he'd purchased for her twelfth birthday. She looked as though she was caught in some sort of trance. Ever so slowly, her eyes drifted upward and she blinked. "Huh?"
"Uniforms, Eileen. We need to go."
"Oh." Just as slowly, Eileen got to her feet and climbed up to the second floor. He heard some faint shuffling and soon his daughter reappeared, sliding down the pole. He noticed that she'd put the sweatshirt with the rainbow-and-prism design back on, as well as that gadget on the necklace cord. Her wand was tucked into the knot of braids on top of her head. Snape sighed mentally, noting that he needed to get her a wand holster at some point in the near-future.
Eileen was eerily silent as she walked beside him through the dungeons and out onto the Hogwarts grounds. The silence on its own wasn't what was eerie as she'd been almost completely silent since he'd retrieved her from the Three Broomsticks the day before, but that was a stony silence, not the blank, somewhat shell-shocked silence that now permeated her aura. He stopped them at the gates to the Hogwarts grounds and motioned for her to step closer. To his surprise, she did.
Snape apparated the two of them to Diagon Alley, and led the way through the almost-deserted shopping district to Madam Malkin's. A little bell dinged when he opened the door. Eileen had yet to say anything. She followed the seamstress' instructions, and while she was being measured, Snape took a seat near the door. As had been the case since he received the notice about Cassie's death, his thoughts were pulled into his memories.
He was startled out of his thoughts by Eileen's indignant shout of, "Oh hell no! I am not wearing that!"
He looked up and saw that Madam Malkin had finished with the measurements and was about to transfer the pattern of the normal girls' uniform on to the fabric. "What's wrong with it? All the other girls at Hogwarts wear the same uniform." Madam Malkin asked, her voice showing that she'd gone over this many, many times in the past. "A uniform is just that, uniform for all."
"I get that, really, I do," Eileen had her arms crossed over her chest. "I don't do skirts."
Snape cocked an eyebrow, So what was it you wore to dinner last night? A belt?
"I'm sorry, Miss Snape, but it is the uniform –"
"And I suppose the guys have to wear skirts, too?" She spat the word 'skirts' like it were some sort of obscenity.
"Of course not," Madam Malkin smiled. "Why ever would you say that?"
"So they wear pants?"
"I would hope so, trousers, too, for that matter."
The subtleties and differences between American and English terminology was lost on Eileen, the minor joke went over her head. "And just why can't I wear pants, too?"
Madam Malkin did probably the worst thing she could have in the circumstances. She laughed. "Miss Snape, I would assume you would, under the skirt!"
Eileen's eyes narrowed, and Snape recognized the hard anger that surfaced. He'd seen that exact expression on Cassie's face several times when they were still together. "Eileen, calm yourself. 'Pants' is a term for underclothes, trousers are what is seen by the public. And no, you may not substitute the boys' uniform for your own. What you wear during your own time is your business – provided it follows the Hogwarts Charter dress code – but during class time, you will wear the uniform."
He pretended he didn't notice Eileen roll her eyes and huff. She sank back into silence – this time, it was her typical stony silence, not that eerie quiet in which she'd been trapped until being faced with the likelihood of wearing a skirt.
It only took about another half an hour for Madam Malkin to finish up, and Snape took the bags of clothes and robes, paid for them, and led Eileen back into Diagon Alley. "Is there anything else you require before we return to Hogwarts?" Eileen shook her head. "Very well. We shall return to the castle."
Once Ike was back in her room, she set to putting the presents from her father away. She still didn't quite know what to do with the knowledge that her father wasn't quite as much of a bastard as she had always thought. She was also a little irritated that she'd have to wear a damn skirt. And knee socks. Upon returning to the castle, Snape had disappeared. Ike didn't know nor did she particularly care where he went. She grabbed her I-Mage notebook and her cell and headed outside. She had to file her weekly report to Motorola on the functionality of her prototype phone. She also planned to fill in a couple of her friends on the latest developments in her life.
She plugged her phone into her computer and dialed her internet connection. She realized that her savings wasn't going to last long if she continued making international long-distance calls while roaming, and resolved to make sure Motorola knew to transfer her account to one of their UK partners. She also needed to call her ISP and get a dial-up connection for Britain.
It took her about an hour to file her report to Motorola, and another thirty minutes to email her request to her ISP. She was about to shut down and go back inside when her inbox chimed. It was a return email from Motorola, saying that her account would be transferred within the week, and reminded her that she wasn't to share her prototype phone or information about it with anyone. Ike rolled her eyes at the warning. She knew what 'confidential' meant, after all.
After she was done reading the email, she shut down the notebook and headed back to her room, where she proceeded to immerse herself in the collection of wonderfully gruesome and violent video games she owned. So wrapped up was she in the killing of zombies and hell-spawn that she completely missed lunch and was startled out of her video-game induced trance to the sound of her father clearing his throat from her door. She paused the game and looked up. "What?"
"You need to change into your uniform. The Welcoming Feast will begin in approximately half an hour," Snape informed her before exiting her room once again.
Ike sighed and stood, stretching. Her back popped. She got out the horrid uniform and glared at it. She suddenly recalled a couple of accessories she owned, packed away in the back of her closet; holdovers from when she was in junior-high and still wanted to please her mother. She smirked, and had anyone been present, they would have noticed the uncanny resemblance between her and the potion master was that much more noticeable when she was feeling evil. She referenced the Hogwarts Charter dress code, relieved to find that what she had in mind wasn't going to cause any problems in that quarter, and then began to get dressed.
Ike had taken ballet lessons at her mother's insistence from the time she was six until she told her mom to fuck off at the age of fourteen. She still had a couple of the costume bits stuffed in a box. She dug them out.
She cut the feet off of a pair of bright blue tights and pulled them on. Over the tights, she put on knee-high toe socks: a red and green striped one on her left foot, and a purple and yellow one on her right. She also located the plain white, droopy tutu that she'd worn during way too many recitals and put it on under the tweed skirt. The white netting was just visible under the hem of the skirt, and it caused the skirt to puff out dramatically, showing off just a hint of her bright blue tights. Unfortunately, there wasn't a whole lot she could do to the plain white button-up shirt, so she pulled it on and tucked it into the skirt. She spent a good twenty minutes attaching several dozen button-pins to the blazer, on both the front and back; pins that boasted the names of numerous rock bands, a full half-dozen anarchy signs, pins with humorous sayings like 'I know my pets are laughing at me behind my back,' and 'I don't want you to turn the other cheek – it's just as ugly!' She was slightly irritated to find that she wasn't able to add pins to the breast pocket. No matter how hard she pushed the pin, it just wouldn't go through the fabric.
The charter had mentioned 'Robes are to be worn over uniforms during all classes – unless otherwise stated by a teacher – and at all official school functions,' so Ike took the lightweight summer robe, twisted it tightly, and tied it around her waist like a belt. To complete her look, she put on her velvet collar, a Green Day sweatband cuff on her right wrist, a thick pleather cuff with a dragon embossed into it on her right, and her tall motorcycle boots. The last thing she did was charm each of her cornrows into a different color of the rainbow, making sure that contrasting colors were next to each other – blue next to orange, yellow next to purple, and so on.
"I expect you to be in the Great Hall in no less than five minutes," her father's voice sounded through the door.
"Whatever," she called back. As before, she waited until she heard the outer door close before leaving the security of her room.
She arrived at the Great Hall with two minutes to spare. The school principal took in her appearance and smiled, nodding at her. An older witch with square glasses looked amused, as did the tiny little professor she'd not really noticed before. Her father looked rather upset, but since she heard voices outside the Great Hall, she figured there wasn't much he could do about it.
The principal motioned for her to stand next to him, which she did. She wasn't sure why, exactly, but she kind of liked the old man. "Miss Snape –"
"Ike."
"Ike, in order to preserve continuity of previous feasts, once the upper years arrive and are seated, we shall sort you to your house before bringing in the first years to be sorted. Since your father is a member of staff, it is up to you if you wish to live in the dormitory of your house or in your father's quarters; you can even split time between the two, if you wish. However, you will be expected to take meals and classes with your house, whatever it may be." Ike nodded to show she'd understood. "And may I say that is the most interesting interpretation of the Hogwarts dress code I've seen in many years?"
Ike couldn't help it, she chuckled a little, both at the principal's declaration and at the scowl on Snape's face. "It's all in finding the loopholes. I hate being like everyone else."
"Individuality is certainly a trait to be encouraged," he replied, and only then did Ike realize that the old man was wearing dark purple robes that had tiny silver dragons literally dancing around on it.
She smirked at the principal, "So I see," she motioned to the robes. "Never caught your name."
"Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, among a few other accolades." Ike would have replied, but just then the large double doors to the Great Hall burst open, and a veritable flood of students entered, chattering excitedly. She saw that the ones wearing green and silver ties sat at the table on the far left side of the hall, as determined by facing the doors. Those with blue and black ties sat at the next table, yellow and black ties were at the next, and the red and yellow ties sat at the far right.
Ike managed to single-handedly silence the entire school simply by her very presence. Her clothes and hair-colors were designed to attract attention, which they did, and, despite the rainbow cornrows, her resemblance to Snape was still highly recognizable. Nearly four hundred pairs of curious eyes were staring at her. Ike glared at them, and she saw some of the younger kids with yellow and black ties draw back in their seats.
Dumbledore cleared his throat, "Welcome back to another year at Hogwarts, students. Normally, I would ask that you settle down so we may begin the Sorting, but I see you've settled yourselves quite admirably. Well done! Ten points to each of the four houses! Before we begin sorting the new first years, you may have noticed we've a new upper year to sort. Miss Eileen Snape – though I believe she prefers to go by the name 'Ike' – will be joining her fellow sixth years this fall." The hall was unnaturally quiet for having the better part of four hundred teenagers in it. Ike could have sworn she could hear herself blink. Dumbledore turned to the witch with the square glasses, "Professor McGonagall, if you would?"
McGonagall nodded and retrieved a three-legged stool and a large, frayed hat. Turning to face Ike, McGonagall motioned for her to come closer. "Please have a seat," she asked, holding the hat. Ike strode forward, the metal caps on her motorcycle boots clicking in the otherwise completely silent hall. Ike wondered if anyone was even breathing, and if not, it should get very interesting in another minute or three, as students started passing out right and left.
Ike sat on the stool, and McGonagall placed the hat on her head. A voice sounded in Ike's head. "Well, well, well. Who do we have here?"
Ike, hat. So, where am I going?
"Patience, Miss Ike. I can see you've not got a bad mind here – that's to be expected, your mother was a Ravenclaw."
Fine, whatever. Hurry up with a decision already, this stool ain't all that comfy, you know.
"Tut, tut. I'm not finished yet. If I may continue? Though you've got a good mind, when you chose to use it, I don't think that Ravenclaw is the right house for you."
Fuck you, you goddamn hat! Hurry up, I'm starting to get hungry. If you don't hurry up, I'll give the phrase 'eat my hat' a whole new meaning.
"Also," the hat continued, ignoring Ike, "I can see that though you hold strongly to your ideals and are very willing to work hard for your goals – both strong Hufflepuff traits – I fear that Hufflepuff house is not quite ready for you."
Whatever. Did I mention I missed lunch?
The hat chuckled, "You've no one to blame but yourself."
You're doing this just to irritate me, aren't you?
"Not at all, Miss Ike. Some students are harder to place than others. But, back to the task at hand… I can see you share quite a number of traits with your father. You've got clear and defined ambitions, something that not many students can claim."
Would you come to the fucking point, hat? All things being equal, I'd rather not be in the same house as my father. Heh, there's a thought. What house would irritate him most?
The hat laughed long and loud in her head. "Why, Miss Ike, that would be –" A rip near the brim of the hat opened and the collected student body leaned forward as one. "GRYFFINDOR!"
Finally! Ike took off the hat and handed it to McGonagall, who looked to be chewing a hole in her lip to keep from laughing. Ike tossed a glance over her shoulder at Snape, and saw that the headmaster was chuckling quietly and Snape was blinking blankly at her. She tossed him an evil little smile as the stunned students gave a smattering of applause before striding over to the table with the red and yellow ties. She'd noticed her own tie shift and a crest appear on the blazer's breast pocket as she'd taken the hat off. There was an empty seat next to a girl with bright red hair and across from a kid with round glasses and hair that looked like he'd been living his life windsurfing.
Ike watched as McGonagall lead a line of kids into the hall, and realized that it was going to be a while before she could eat. She sighed and removed her MMP3 player from her pocket and settled in. She saw the hat doing something on his stool, but couldn't hear what he was saying, she was too busy listening to Guttermouth's Skater's Anthem. Over the next half-hour, the line of forty or so kids were slowly shuffled to one house table or another. When the last of the kids ran off to the blue and black table, she turned off the MMP3 player, interrupting Supertramp's Breakfast in America album.
She saw Dumbledore get to his feet, "Welcome, everyone, to another year at Hogwarts. Before we begin the feast, I've a couple of notices to pass along. The banned items list has been updated, and can be viewed at any time by either visiting Mr. Filch's office or by perusing the owl-order form for any Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes catalogue. With the absence of Misters Fred and George Weasley from the school, I had hoped that the next notice might be skipped this year, but apparently not. First years are to realize that the Forbidden Forest is just that, forbidden to all students. Some of the upper year students ought to recall that as well." Ike saw the kid with the glasses exchange uneasy grimaces with a girl that had bushy hair and was sitting on the other side of the redhead on Ike's right side. Wonder what that's all about? "I would also like to introduce this year's Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Bartholomew Jonathus Crowley."
There was a scattered sampling of unenthusiastic applause. The redheaded boy sitting next to the kid with the glasses leaned over and whispered, "Wonder how this one's going to try to kill you."
The kid with the glasses snickered, "Ron, don't be silly. Umbitch didn't try to kill me, she only tortured me and tried to get me to take an overdose of veritaserum. She did do her best, however, to discredit me."
"She's still in Saint Mungo's, right?"
"Yeah. From what I heard, she's in the same ward as Lockhart."
The redhead laughed quietly, "Good place for both of them."
While listening to the conversation across the table from her, Ike had missed the remainder of Dumbledore's speech. She didn't care much, though, as the table was suddenly covered in food. She filled her plate with salad and crunched into it, while the rest of the students filled their own plates and the noise level in the room climbed. When she finished, she clicked her fingers and called for Dobby. The kid with the messy hair looked up from his conversation with the bushy-haired girl and the two redheads. "What can Dobby be doing for Miss Ike?"
"You said you'd have food for me at all meals, right?"
The elf nodded. "Yes, Miss Ike. All food without any animal parts is served on the platters and bowls with the swoopy design on them." He pointed to a large soup tureen that was decorated with swirling feathers and leaves.
"Thanks, Dobby." The elf snapped his fingers and disappeared.
"You know Dobby?" the kid with the glasses asked.
Ike nodded, grabbing some stuffed mushrooms off of a platter that had the same design as the tureen. "Yeah. So?" The others around Ike seemed to take this as the sign to begin bombarding her with questions.
"Are you really Snape's daughter?"
"Where were you before you came here?"
"What's it like having Snape as a dad?"
"What did Dobby mean by 'animal parts?'"
"What's with your hair?"
"What was that you were listening to before the feast started?"
"Are you any good in class?"
"What's your favorite subject?"
Ike quirked an eyebrow at her housemates, glaring. The effect should have been ludicrous when combined with her outfit and hair, but it wasn't. One by one, the other students shut up, a result of the previous years of conditioning from Snape in both potions and whenever a student was unlucky enough to happen across him in the halls. She took a bite of a mushroom, swallowed, and began answering the questions. "Yeah, Snape's my father. I grew up in L.A. with my mom. I just got here the day before yesterday, and I never really had any contact with Snape growing up, so I don't know what it's like for him to be my dad. I'm vegan – I don't eat anything that's animal in origin. My hair is like this because I like it like this. I was listening to my MMP3 player – that's Magic MP3 player, no idea what the 'MP3' part means, I never bothered looking it up. I'm good enough in class, I suppose. My favorite class is computer programming." She took a swallow of water from her glass. "Who are all of you?"
The redhead next to her spoke up. "I'm Ginny Weasley, I'm a fifth-year, and that's my brother, Ron. Next to him is Harry Potter, and this is Hermione Granger. The boy on the other side of you is Neville Longbottom. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville are all in sixth year, like you."
"Gotcha," Ike returned to her dinner, ignoring the rest of the students for the remainder of the feast. That Ginny girl is really cute… That Potter kid sorta rings a bell or two… Wish I could remember where I knew the name from… When dessert arrived, she helped herself to a pile of strawberries and listened to the conversations around her. She didn't learn much of consequence. As the feast was winding down, she called for Dobby once more and told the elf to take a handful of her belongings to her dorm room. Couldn't hurt to get to know my roommates a little.
Ike found that the Gryffindor dormitory was a decorator's nightmare. Granted, Ike's interior decorating skill was limited to which color of lava lamp to pair with what bean-bag, but even she knew that the overabundance of red and gold was gaudy in the extreme. Hermione – the girl with the bushy hair – led Ike up to the sixth-year girl's room. On the way up, she was introduced to the other two girls who shared the room; Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. The only thing that Ike could say about the two other girls was that they seemed like they would have fit right in at LAMI. Probably as cheerleaders.
She wasn't sure what to think of Hermione. The girl was obviously highly intelligent, and seemed to want to prove how smart she was at every opportunity. The nerdy aura around her seemed at odds with the guilty look she'd exchanged with the Potter kid during the feast. Ike was pretty sure that, in Hermione's case, at least, appearances weren't all there was to the girl.
Lavender and Parvati spent an hour or two talking about some hot new wizard boy-band that Ike had never heard of – not that she listened to boy-bands anyway – before calling it a night and going to sleep. Hermione had spent the majority of that hour attempting to read, but not getting much done, as she kept peering over the top of her book at Ike, who was pretending to listen to her MMP3 player.
"Was there something you needed?" Ike asked, once the other two girls were soundly asleep. She was slightly amused at the fact that Lavender snored.
Hermione flushed a bit and sat her book to the side. "I'm sorry for staring, but you really look quite a lot like the professor…"
Ike rolled her eyes, "He is my father, you know. I thought it was normal for kids to look like their parents – unless they're adopted, of course. Don't you look like your folks?"
Hermione nodded, "Yeah, but… Well, to be blunt, no one really likes Professor Snape all that much…"
Ike laughed, "I can tell. Don't worry 'bout offending me, hon, I don't like him much. And I caught that implied comment of yours. I wonder what Mom saw in him, too."
Hermione chuckled. "Why are you here now? I mean, if you were living with your mum in the US, why move here all of a sudden?"
Ike's small smile faded quickly. "Mom was killed in a car accident and the courts denied me emancipation. I'm stuck here for the duration."
"Oh," Hermione replied, a little taken aback. "I'm sorry – I didn't know."
Ike shrugged, "No problema, Hermione. I miss her, but we had some… issues."
"Like what?"
Ike shrugged again, "Just some stuff; personality clashes and whatnot."
Hermione nodded, realizing that Ike likely didn't want to talk about it; she was used to that particular evasive maneuver from Harry. "Can I ask you some questions?"
"Sure."
"Why 'Ike?'"
"I hate my name. Some kid in my kindergarten class called me Ike the first day of school and it sorta stuck."
"And the clothes?" Hermione gestured to Ike's uniform.
"What about them? It isn't against the dress code – I checked."
"I realize that, but… I've just not seen anything quite like that in the wizarding world before."
Ike smiled a little, "Well, to be fair, I'm not really the wizarding world type. I like movies, television, computers – I really like computers – and skateboarding. Name one place in the fucking wizarding world where I can have all that."
"So you don't like magic at all?" Hermione sounded confused, she'd not met a witch before who didn't use magic.
"It's not that I don't like it, it's more that I don't see the point. Sure, there are a couple of charms that come in handy – especially if it's been a while since I did my laundry, or if I have to re-braid my hair – but for the most part, magic's not all that relevant to my life."
"Did you go to a magic school in the US?"
Ike nodded, "Yeah, the Los Angeles Magical Institute. It was more like a normal high school than this place, though. All the magic classes, outside of Control, were electives."
"How's that?"
"Well, LAMI, like all the other schools in California – well, the whole US, for that matter – all have to teach specific subjects to a certain level. Math, science, English, history, shit like that. Control is the only required magical class, and it teaches how to ground and center, basic blocks and shields, simple charms, one or two potions, and how to avoid accidental magic."
"So what classes did you take?"
Ike leaned back on her bed, which was between Hermione's and the door. "Lemme think… In ninth – year before last – I took Government, Economics, Algebra I, Spanish I, Beginning Computer Programming, Control, Health, P.E., and English I during the first semester. For second semester, Government, Economics, Control, and Health were all finished – they're only one-semester classes – so I took a study-hall first period. That let me sleep in another forty minutes. I took Novels for another English credit – we needed four English credits to graduate – Statistics, Current Events, Computer Lab, and Drawing."
"You can draw?"
Ike snorted, "Not at all. Need a ruler to make a straight line. But it's an easy class, and as long as you try, you're bound to pass."
"What of last year?"
"Last year, I took Spanish II, Algebra II, and Intermediate Computer Programming during summer classes, so when the school year started, I could jump straight into Advanced Computer Programming, Spanish III, and Calculus. For first semester, I took Composition I, followed by Comp II during the second semester. I also took Chemistry, English II, and Business Skills. I actually took a couple of magic classes, too. Basic Charms for Everyday Life and Magical Technology."
Hermione blinked. "Somehow, I think the school system of the US is rather different that it is here. That sounds like quite a list of courses."
Ike shrugged, "There were nine forty-minute blocks in a school day, with a half-hour for lunch. Had to fill the time somehow. How are things here?"
Hermione shook her head, "Different. To begin with, there aren't any non-magical classes. Do you know what classes you'll be taking?"
Ike shrugged, "No clue. Why?"
"Just curious. You'll probably have Charms, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, and Potions. There are other courses, too, but those five are the main ones that prospective employers look at, along with OWL and NEWT scores."
"Huh?"
"OWL and NEWT. Ordinary Wizarding Level and Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests."
"I don't like the sound of that. If I've not had that much in the way of mage-learning, how do they expect me to keep up with everyone?"
Hermione stood suddenly and motioned for Ike to follow her. Ike warily got to her feet, "Where are we going?"
"The Room of Requirement. We'll see how far behind everyone you are, then I'll know how much you'll need tutored."
"Huh?"
Hermione grinned, "Just follow me."
Ike sighed and followed the much shorter girl down the stairs, across the common room and up another staircase. Hermione motioned for Ike to be quiet as she opened a door. They crept inside. Ike saw five beds in this room, all filled with boys. Hermione tip-toed up to the bed closest to the window and shook its occupant, "Harry. Come on, Harry, wake up."
The kid with the flyaway hair sat up, groping for his glasses, "Whassamatter, 'Mione?"
"Can I borrow your invisibility cloak?"
Harry blinked, still mostly asleep, "The cloak? Why?"
"Because I don't want a detention for wandering the halls the first night back."
That seemed to wake the kid up fully, "What?"
"I wanted to take Ike to the Room of Requirement. Come on, Harry. Let us use the cloak. Please."
Harry rolled out of bed and Ike quirked an eyebrow at his pajamas; they were bright yellow, five sizes too big, a little worn-out, and sported pictures of Twinkies and Ho-Hos. He went to the trunk at the foot of his bed and rummaged around in it for a couple of minutes before coming up with a shiny silver cloak. "Can I come, too, or is this a girls-only thing?" he asked, handing the cloak to Hermione.
Hermione took the cloak and shrugged, "It's up to you. Ike hasn't had much magical education, so we were going to see how much tutoring she'd need to keep up in class."
Harry smiled a little, "Think I'll come along, then. Give me a minute to get dressed, yeah?"
"Sure. Meet you in the common room in a couple of minutes, then?"
Harry nodded and pulled a pair of jeans out of the trunk while Hermione pushed Ike back through the door. Once the two girls were back in the deserted common room, Ike clicked her fingers and called for Dobby. When the elf appeared, she told him to get her track suit from her room in Snape's suite. She stripped in the common room, much to Hermione's amusement, and pulled on the black sweatpants, plain white t-shirt, and her Nikes. She had Dobby take her uniform back up to the dorm for her. The elf had just disappeared again when Harry showed up. "Shall we?" he asked, nodding towards the door.
"Lead on," Ike replied, still wondering just why the name 'Potter' was so damn familiar.
The three of them crowded under the invisibility cloak – it was a tight fit, though not as bad as it could have been; had Ike been less slender, it wouldn't have fully covered the three of them. Harry had a map of the school out under the cloak and was leading the way, as much as he could, anyway. It took quite a while to shuffle their way to the seventh floor, and they had to backtrack twice – once to avoid Filch and once to avoid Snape. Finally, they arrived in a narrow hall next to a picture of a wizard and a couple of trolls in tutus. Ike snickered at the painting, one of the trolls was sleeping, and the other was chasing the wizard around with a ballet bar that he'd torn off the wall.
Hermione walked back and forth in front of a blank space of wall, and suddenly a door appeared. While she was doing that, Harry muttered something and tapped his wand on the map. Ike saw all the writing on it fade from sight before following the other two into the room. The room itself was part gym, part lab, and part study nook. There was a thick blue mat, not unlike the one in her own room, covering part of the floor, a desk with numerous books along one wall, and a potions setup along the wall furthest from the door.
"What should we start with?" Ike asked, pulling her wand from the knot of braids on her head and dispelling the coloring charm.
Hermione shook her head at the girl, "Now, you look even more like the professor."
Ike rolled her eyes and tapped her hair again. It shifted to a bright blue with yellow strands in her braids. "Better?"
Hermione just laughed a little. "I think we ought to start with charms." And so they did.
Over the next couple of hours, the three of them found out that Ike hadn't been lying when she told Hermione that she wasn't all that advanced in magic. She had cleaning charms down pat – making Harry laugh when she said that those particular charms were the ones she used the most, especially since a lot of her clothes had to be dry-cleaned, and that could get expensive in a hurry. She also knew several minor hygiene charms, including one for brushing her teeth that kept her breath smelling minty all day. She ended up teaching that one to Hermione. Ike couldn't do transfiguration at all, and she flat-out refused to do any potions that incorporated animal parts – which most of them did. When they found that out, Harry remarked "I almost can't wait for class now. I wonder what Snape'll do when he finds out?"
Ike shrugged, "I honestly don't give a rat's ass what he does. I'm not going to dissect an animal just to make my life easier – it isn't fair to the animal. Especially since most potions have chemical alternatives in the muggle world. All things being equal, I'd rather take an aspirin if I have a headache than try to choke down some sort of gooey sludge that tastes like a gym-sock smells."
Once they finished up evaluating Ike's magical prowess, the room shifted around them, and the three curled up on a couple of sofas and got to know the newest addition to Hogwarts a little better.
It was nearing three in the morning when the three Gryffindors piled under the cloak for the return trip to the tower. As they were about to part company in the common room, Ike snickered, "There ain't much reason to even bother with bed at this point. I don't know about you two, but I know I'll just be more tired if I only get three hours of sleep than if I stay up all night. I think I'll see if Dobby'll get me a snack and go watch a movie or something."
Hermione shrugged, one of the things they'd talked about earlier was the fact that Ike had several pieces of muggle technology and an electricity converter in her room in the dungeons. "I need some sleep – otherwise, I won't be able to pay attention in class tomorrow. Goodnight, Ike, Harry."
Harry nodded at Hermione's retreating form and turned to face Ike. "I'm like you, if I try to sleep now, I'll just end up more tired tomorrow. Mind if I tag along? I'll show you where the kitchens are."
Ike shook her head, "Come on, then. Do you think we'll still need that cloak of yours?"
Harry crumpled the cloak into a surprisingly small ball and stuffed it into his pocket, "Not likely. Snape usually stops patrolling about two in the morning, and I know Filch doesn't patrol past midnight."
"Should I even ask how you know that?"
Harry grinned a little lopsidedly, "This isn't the first time I couldn't sleep."
Ike smirked, "Ah, a fellow insomniac. Gotcha."
After showing Ike how to locate the kitchens, gathering an assortment of snacks in the process, Ike showed Harry where Snape's quarters were. "It's too bad that Fred and George left last year," he commented, "they would have killed for this information."
Before showing Harry in, Ike turned to face him, "Who?"
"Fred and George Weasley," Harry replied. "Ron's older brothers. They're notorious pranksters."
Ike grinned evilly, "Anyone else around here aiming to follow in their footsteps?"
Harry's jaw dropped.
"Shut your mouth before something lands in it. I mean it, as long as they leave my room alone, I could care less if the whole school wants to prank Snape."
Harry shook his head. "I guess you really didn't grow up with your dad, did you?" He chuckled a little, while Ike cheerfully shook her head. "Somehow, I think that first potions class is going to be very interesting."
Snape awoke, as always, at a quarter to seven. He slowly opened his eyes, wondering momentarily why he felt so sluggish. Then it came to him. Eileen… Gryffindor… Bloody hell… He reluctantly got out of bed and blearily wandered into his bathroom, reflecting that Fate was a cold, hard, ironic bitch at times. Why else would he have ended up fathering a blasted Gryffindor?
When he was dressed and somewhat more ready to face the upcoming day of classes, he was about to head towards the Great Hall when he heard voices coming from Eileen's room. He stepped up to the door, listening.
"Oooh! Behind you!"
"I see it! Damn! Which button – the reload – shite!" There was a loud groan. "This game bloody has it in for me."
Eileen's laughter followed, "Well, duh. The game's got it in for everyone. That's the point."
"Can't we go back to Mortal Kombat? I seem to do better with, what did you call it? Button-mashing?"
Another laugh, "No. How do you expect to ever beat me if you don't learn the controls?"
Snape ground his teeth. He recognized that second voice – how could he not, after five years of classes with the arrogant little snot? He reached up to open the door, but was stopped by the second voice's exclamation of, "Merlin, is it really almost seven-thirty?"
"Yeah."
"We should probably get to the Great Hall for breakfast. We get our schedules today, and most classes start at eight." There was some shuffling and suddenly the door to Eileen's room was thrown open.
Had Snape any lingering doubts as to who, precisely, his daughter had been entertaining in her room, they were dispelled at the sight of Harry Potter standing in the doorway, mere inches from Snape, himself. When the door first opened, Potter had been smiling. When he caught sight of Snape, though, that smile disappeared completely, leaving behind an expression that could only be described as 'the deer-in-the-headlights' look. Snape didn't need legilimency to know precisely what Potter was thinking.
First there would be the realization that he is in my quarters. Next would come the dawning comprehension that he'd been with my daughter un-chaperoned. And, yes, there it is. Terror. "Potter." The boy winced. Snape's musings on what was going on in Harry's head weren't too far off the mark, then.
There was a burst of amused laughter, which rather spoiled the moment. "I don't think I want to know why you just flinched, Harry. It ain't like we were doing anything wrong. I happen to live here," by now, Eileen was meeting Snape's gaze. "And Harry's a friend. We were playing video games before class." She stepped around Harry, grabbing his arm as she did, and pulled him along behind her to the door to the hall. "Come on, let's get breakfast, like you said."
As he watched the door close behind them, Snape had to wonder just when he had lost control of that particular situation.
Ike left Harry, who was, in his own way, as flabbergasted as Snape had been, at the doors to the Great Hall while she sprinted back up to Gryffindor Tower to change into that dratted uniform. She didn't want to repeat her look from the feast the night before, so she changed the colors of the uniform – something that wasn't mentioned in the Charter – so that the skirt was a blinding shade of red and the blazer was lime-green and still covered with the button-pins. She hurriedly changed, and used one of the pins on her blazer to pin the hem of the uniform skirt to the waistband, showing off the tutu, now a shimmery black. She left the tights alone, though she did change the color of her toe-socks so that now they were both alternating stripes of the same red and green of the uniform. Clicking her fingers for Dobby, she had the elf return her motorcycle boots to her room in the dungeons and had him bring her a pair of chunky men's sandals, along with her book bag.
She made it to the Great Hall just in time to receive her schedule. Harry shoved Ron over a bit to make room for her at the table. "We've got Defense first, then a free period," the red head said, and Ike confirmed it with her own schedule.
When the others were done eating, Ike followed them through the halls to the Defense classroom. If she ignored the fact that the floor and walls were stone, and most of the lighting was candles or torches, Ike could almost believe she was back at LAMI. Almost.
There weren't enough students in the class for it to be at LAMI, for starters. And of the students that were there, not a single one of them were speaking Ebonics or Spanish. Hell, the only black kid she'd met – briefly – the night before spoke better English than she did. Finding an empty seat near the back of the class, Ike had just enough time to note that they shared this class with the house that wore the green and silver ties. A kid with pale blonde hair took the seat next to hers, looked like he wanted to say something, but was interrupted by the arrival of the teacher.
He was neither tall nor short, neither fat nor thin, and had medium brown hair and eyes. Ike repressed a snicker when she realized that the man had, according to a Mercedes Lackey book she'd read over the summer, a 'face-shaped face.' There were no real identifying characteristics; no scars, no birthmarks, no tattoos or piercings. He wrote his name on the blackboard. 'Jonathus Crowley.' Ike had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing out loud as an Ozzy song played silently in her head.
"Good morning, students. I am Professor Crowley, and it is my somewhat dubious honor to be your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for the upcoming school year. I understand that you all have had a somewhat spotty history in this particular class, and not a single professor appears to have lasted longer than a year – in some cases, less than a year – in this position for quite some time." The teacher's voice was like the rest of him – unremarkable. "Therefore, we shall begin the year with a small assessment of where you all stand on this particular subject. Please, put your books and notes away – this test is not open-book. When I want to know how well you can research, I will assign an essay. The purpose of this exam is merely to see how much you have learned from your previous professors. It will not count towards your grade, but do not let that be an excuse for you to deliberately do poorly. I am here for your betterment and education, and you are the only ones who will suffer any detriment should you fail to do your best on this exam."
Though the man seemed unexceptional, Ike sensed that he wasn't quite all he appeared to be, that there was a backbone somewhere under that commonplace exterior. She merely got out a pencil and waited for an exam to be passed back to her. She flipped it over and swore under her breath.
1. Name three ways of treating a werewolf bite.
2. What is the incantation of the spell to combat boggarts?
3. Name two effects of dementors, and the name of the spell with which to combat them.
4. What spell is used to counter an expelliarmus during an active duel?
5. Name the three Unforgivable curses.
6. When cast at full-strength, how long does a stupefy hex last?
Ike didn't know a single one of the hundred questions in the test packet. She glanced around surreptitiously. Everyone else was scribbling away on their test-papers. Great, now all I need is to be naked, and this would be the perfect nightmare. Ike sighed and flipped back to the first page and began trying to answer the questions. She wrote, 'Hydrogen peroxide, iodine, and rubbing alcohol' in response to the first one, made up something that sounded vaguely Latin-y for the second, asked 'What the hell is a dementor?' for the third, and so on. She was still scribbling away when the bells rang to end class.
"Please pass your papers to the front of the class before you leave," Mr. Crowley requested as the students gathered their things and exited. Ike noticed that Harry had left already with Ron and Hermione. It was just her, the teacher, and that pointy blonde who had sat next to her. Ike handed her test paper to the teacher before exiting the class, the blonde boy following her closely.
"Hold up," he called after her.
Ike stopped and turned to face him. "What?"
He had a smug, superior sort of smirk on his face that Ike didn't like in the least. "You would be Eileen Snape, Professor Snape's daughter, correct?"
Ike quirked an eyebrow, "The name's Ike, if you don't mind."
"By all means," he replied. "Ike, I am Draco Malfoy." He held out his hand.
"So? Did you need something, or did you just want to declare who you were?"
Draco smiled at her. "I merely thought that it would be… beneficial for you to meet some of the students in your father's house."
Ike rolled her eyes and snorted, "Beneficial to who?"
The strange, cold smile on his face broadened, "Why, to both of us, of course. It occurs to me that though you have been sorted into," he cleared his throat with a derisive little noise, "Gryffindor, your father is still the Head of Slytherin House. Who better to show you around Hogwarts than a prefect in that very same house?"
Ike suddenly was very glad she'd talked the hat out of placing her in the same house as the letch before her. "You are quite probably the most moronic idiot I've ever had the chance to meet – and trust me when I say I've met more than my fair share of idiots. Why the hell would I go around with you? You make my skin crawl."
Draco's pale, pointy face flushed. He drew his wand, "Why, you bloody little –"
He didn't get the chance to finish what he was going to say, nor did he manage to hex Ike. Ike had merely clenched her right fist and snapped her arm forwards. She barely registered the faint protestation of pain from her knuckles at the satisfying sight of blood gushing from the boy's nostrils. "Lemme be, idiot, or else I'll hit you where it really hurts next time."
She could see that Draco was shocked, but angry, too. "My fadder's gonna 'ear 'bou dis!" he yelled before turning tail and running down the hallway.
"And that means what to me, you runty little weasel?" Ike shouted after him.
Just then, the door to the Defense classroom opened. "Is there a problem?" Mr. Crowley asked.
Ike shook her head, "Nothing I couldn't handle." She turned on her heel and headed for Gryffindor Tower.
Much of Ike's first week of classes passed in the same vein as her first DADA lesson – she was continuously surrounded by the fact that she was in classes with kids who were as far ahead of her in magic as she was ahead of them in typing and computer programming. When Friday dawned, she awoke feeling slightly nauseas. During the intervening week, she'd heard more than her share of stories about how Snape ran his classes – to be honest, she wasn't sure how she was going to survive if even a quarter of the tales were true.
So it was with a nearly-overwhelming sense of dread that Ike showered and dressed for the day. After that first morning during which she and Harry had played video games in her room, she'd spent every following night in Gryffindor Tower, rarely venturing into her room in her father's quarters. In fact, aside from meals, she'd managed to completely avoid her father for the entirety of that week, a feat of which she was inordinately proud.
She hadn't even had to return to her room for her morning workouts, as on Tuesday morning, she'd mentioned the fact that she worked out every other morning, and was rewarded with that redhead, Ron, mentioning a room in the castle that could reform itself according to the wishes of whoever needed it. With Ron, Hermione, and Harry tagging along, she was shown to the Room of Requirement. Following their instructions, she paced back and forth in front of the same piece of wall that Harry and Hermione had brought her after the welcoming feast. When she opened the door that appeared, she grinned, though any of the other three would have called it a smirk. Ron actually shuddered at her uncanny resemblance to the professor.
The room was floored with nothing but a smooth, seamless concrete, and was roughly fifty feet wide and a hundred or so long. The ceiling was twenty feet above their heads, and there were seemingly random ramps, rails, blocks, and other cement oddities littered here and there. Ike retrieved her skateboard from her backpack and tossed it on the floor, muttering the resizing charm as it fell. The board was regulation-sized, with a black, sandpapery surface. It's wheels were neon orange. Without giving any sort of explanation, she jumped onto the skateboard, and did a full circuit of the room, before giving particular attention to the half-pipe in the center of the room.
While she jumped, twisted, and flipped on and around the board, Harry, Ron, and Hermione watched in shock. None of them had ever had the opportunity to see an X-game fanatic in his – or her – element before. All three of them noticed that the bottom of her board had rainbow stripes on either end, angling towards the center. The V-shaped center area was black with a spray-painted red anarchy sign. None of the group managed to make it to breakfast that day, but Ron did secure a promise from Ike for her to begin showing him how to skate like she did.
Ike shook off her longing for another morning in the Room of Requirement and shouldered her back pack. Her father had ordered her books – they'd arrived by owl on Wednesday. She followed Hermione to the common room, where they met up with Ron and Harry, before heading towards the Great Hall and breakfast for the other three members of the group. As Ron filled his plate full of waffles and sausage, he looked over at Ike, who was – like always – having a cup of coffee. "I've been meaning to ask, Ike, why don't you eat breakfast?"
Ike drained her mug before refilling it and responded, "If I eat too soon after waking up, I get really sick. I usually have a granola bar or something about an hour or two before lunch."
"Oh," Ron replied, before turning his whole attention to the plate before him.
Ron had been somewhat reluctant to accept Ike into their little circle of friends, but after hearing from Harry how she had been willing to tell potential pranksters where Snape lived – so long as they didn't bother her things – he realized that she was, appearances aside, not her father.
After the bells rang signaling the start of the class day, Ron, Hermione, and Harry had to pry Ike off the bench beside the table. "I don't wanna go!" she protested.
"Nonsense," Hermione replied. "He's your father. It's not like he's going to chop you up and add you to the potions cabinet. Harry and I will be there, too, you know."
"Why isn't Ron gonna be there?"
Ron grinned widely, "I didn't get an 'O' on my potions OWL. Didn't make it into his class – not that I'm complaining, mind you, but at least I don't have to put up with him anymore."
Ike turned somewhat frantic eyes on Harry and Hermione. "I didn't even take any fucking OWLs! Why am I in his class?"
"I would imagine that you're in his class," Harry replied, "because you're his kid and he wants to keep an eye on you."
Ike let go of the bench and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet; not as easy a task as it sounds, primarily because Ike was the tallest of the group, a good three inches taller than even Ron. "That's precisely what I'm afraid of." Ike sighed and grabbed her bag. "Well… May as well get there. I have a feeling I'm not gonna be in this class too long…" Slowly, an evil smile crossed her face. "Yeah, not long at all."
"Ike, you're scaring us," Hermione said in a faux-fearful tone.
Ike turned her evil smile on the three of them, "Good. See you after class, Ron. Harry, Hermione, lead onwards. It wouldn't do to be late for Daddy-Dearest's class."
While heading towards the dungeon classroom for potions, Ike heard Harry whisper something to Hermione that included the phrase 'just like Gred and Forge.' Ike never lost her evil grin during the entire walk.
Because of Ike's original reluctance to head towards the class, Harry, Hermione and she happened to be the last ones to arrive. There weren't many others in the class – three of the kids had blue and black ties, two had yellow and black ties, and four had silver and green ties; including that Malfoy idiot that Ike had decked after DADA on Monday. The three of them sat in the furthest back row, which was also the only open seating available, mere moments before Snape swooped into the room.
Without any sort of prelude, Snape launched directly into his speech, "This is Advanced Potions – as such, no one with less than an 'O' on their potions OWL should be here." He was staring hard at Harry, but it was Ike who stood up.
"Sit, Eileen."
"No."
The entire class wore identical expressions of shock, mouths open, eyebrows raised. They fearfully watched their professor, expecting, no doubt, for him to show some sort of reaction which would make it into the realm of legend; a reaction that would be told about and retold for generations. They were disappointed. "Sit down, Eileen."
"I don't think so, professor. By your own admission, of just a couple of seconds ago – and should your memory be faulty, as can happen as one gets older, I'll quote it for you. 'No one with less than an 'O' on their potions OWL should be here.' Since I never took that particular test, I shouldn't be in this class." Ike was calm, though her voice had a subtle undertone of sarcasm flavoring it.
Surely that will get a reaction, the class thought, and had Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter realized that they were thinking the exact same thing, they indubitably would have been so mortified that no one would have seen them for a good five years. Luckily, though, they had no clue. Snape's only response to Ike's logic was, "Five points from Gryffindor. Sit."
"No, I ain't gonna, and you can't make me," Ike replied, smirking. "You and I both know that there's no way in hell I'm going to pass this class, unless you plan on passing me just because we happen to have the same blood type, and I'm pretty sure that nepotism – though a time-honored tradition – is against the rules."
"Ten points, Eileen. Sit down!" The class seemed to finally take a collected breath; though not the reaction they'd hoped for from their professor, it was enough to see him finally getting angry at the one person that none of them had thought he would.
Ike, not completely clueless, realized that she'd pushed him just about as far as she could for the time-being, sat down. Snape continued on his speech, warning the students that anyone not prepared to work hard in his class had best leave – Ike was tempted to get up and go at that, but decided not to at the last minute. She figured she'd have a better chance of making her father pay for the point-loss if she stuck around, at least until the end of class.
Snape finished up his speech, wishing he dared take a headache draught in front of the students, and indicated they should start on the first practical, which was, as always, written on the board. I swear that child's trying to completely discredit me…
Ike followed Hermione to the potions supply cabinet and started to gather up the ingredients that had been listed on the board. They were working on a burn salve specific to the acids generated by dragons. As such, the potion included several dragon-based ingredients. Ike looked over her copy of the list. Three drams dragons' blood. Hmm… No. I don't think so. What's that? She reached for a jar that held a thick red syrup that was identical in color and consistency to the blood. Concentrated Passionflower extract? That'll do. What else is on that list? Flobberworm slime. Yuck. Again, no. Lemme see… Aloe vera gel will work. And porcupine quills? Why? Hmm… I think I have a pencil or two I can sacrifice. She hurriedly grabbed the other ingredients on the list that were plant-based, and made substitutions for those that were animal in origin before she returned to her workstation. She followed the instructions on the board to the letter… Well, as best she could, at any rate. What's the difference between minced and diced and shredded? Doesn't it all just mean itty-bitty pieces? Whatever. She added her substitutions when the instructions called for the originals.
She stirred the cauldron sixty times in a figure-eight motion before adding her last ingredient.
When she did, the cauldron belched a puff of pink smoke and Ike had time to think That wasn't in the directions, before her cauldron summarily exploded, covering the entire class in a bright orange sludge. There was a single moment where there was nothing but total calm, and then Ike looked up.
Snape had been standing at the front of the class, answering a question from that Malfoy kid when the cauldron had exploded. He slowly turned his head in the direction the ooze had come from. It was rather obvious that Ike was responsible. She saw a muscle under his right eye twitch. Uh-oh… Once more, the class found themselves holding their breath.
Ever so slowly, Snape strode towards the back of the class. Again, the entire class had the same thought, He's angrier than I've ever seen him before. "Eileen… What. Was. That?"
The apprehension Ike had been feeling at seeing Snape so obviously angry completely disappeared. He doesn't look half as menacing as he thinks he does, covered in that orange goo. "An explosion?" she said, a little ironically.
"Yes, I realize that," Snape hissed, "but what –"
"If you knew, then why'd you ask?" Ike was feeling brave. The guy before her was her father, after all. What's he gonna do, ground me?
The twitch under his right eye got perceptibly worse. "What. Caused. It?"
Ike shrugged, and tried to ignore the goo in which she was coated. "No clue. I tried telling you that I don't belong in this class, but no you wouldn't fucking listen, would you? Now, as you can see, there's irrefutable proof I don't know what I'm doing. Can I go now?"
The twitch was now comically apparent. "What. Did. You. Do. To. The. Potion?"
"Followed your instructions, but as a vegan – and I believe I told you before that I don't use animal parts – I made a couple of substitutions." She smiled cheekily at him.
"One hundred points from Gryffindor," Snape ground out before bellowing to the rest of the class, "Out, NOW! Shower, then see Madam Pomfrey, the lot of you!"
Ike grabbed her back pack, intent on following her classmates out of the dungeon, Snape, however, grabbed her ear, "Not you!"
Now, keeping in mind that Ike grew up in Los Angeles, where personal safety could be considered an obsession, and that she also worked at the YMCA and was more than a little obsessed about her own physical fitness, Ike reacted understandably. She merely stomped on his instep – and though he was wearing dragonhide boots, they weren't equipped with stainless steel caps like her motorcycle boots – elbowed his solar plexus, back-fisted his nose, and kicked backward like a mule and hit him… er… well, we've all seen 'Miss Congeniality,' right?
Snape did let go of her ear, though he didn't realize it at the time. He was too busy wondering what the hell just happened. By the time his eyes stopped watering, he was dimly aware of the one sound that he was least hoping for – at that particular moment in time, it ranked just under hearing that Sirius Black was alive and well, and that Harry Potter had just been elected Minister of Magic. He heard Albus Dumbledore laughing at him.
Don't say it, don't say it, don't say it. Please, God and Merlin, don't let him say it.
Albus calmed his chuckles, "Well, Severus. It appears as though you've met your match."
Damnit, he said it. Snape didn't deign to reply. Instead, he wondered if it were possible to obliviate himself of the entire encounter before remembering that his wand was clear over on his desk. Instead, he merely hit his head on the floor. Repeatedly.
A/N2: And now that I'm done with this, I will say that unless everyone hates Ike, I'll definitely have more one-shots featuring her in the future. This was too much fun to write!
Review and let me know how much you like Ike. Or hate her. Really, I don't care which, so long as I get some feedback! :-D
ETA – April 5, 2008: After getting a couple of reviews asking if I had more Ike stories, I figured I'd go ahead and annotate this with the fact that the next Ike story is called 'Friends and Family' and can be accessed through my profile page. Thanks!