Disclaimer: Anything recognized doesn't belong to me and there is dialogue taken from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets
2. The Potions Master
"…He loved Big Brother." And with that, ten-year-old Victoria Thomas finished George Orwell's 1984. From her comfortable hollow in the tangled roots of the old oak tree, she turned and grabbed her bag. She pulled out a jumper, which usually would have earned her a crazy look from any passerby since it was nearly thirty-five degrees Celsius outside. But she was alone and had been all day, because she had to be alone to read what she wanted.
Victoria loved her parents, but they were a bit conservative, though that itself wasn't particularly surprising, given her father's job. Mr. Thomas was the pastor of the small country parish in Owlhill. Although loving, they were strict when it came to fiction. Anything that went beyond the realm of reality, like sci-fi or fantasy, was deemed inappropriate, which was why she wrapped 1984, borrowed from the library, in her worn navy jumper and shoved it down into her bag. She pulled her socks and trainers back on, and slung her bag over her shoulder as she stood up. Her blouse was plastered to her back with sweat as she climbed over the roots and trekked through the shallow forest to the winding country road that led back to the village.
Although it was nearly dinner time, the sun still shined hot and bright, but that was to be expected at the end of July. Victoria walked along the road, against the traffic, in the stifling heat until the roofs of Owlhill rose above the slopes of the countryside. She crossed the quiet streets, smiling at the few people still on the streets, and soon she arrived at a modest brick house with a pale blue door.
Opening the door, she could smell roasting chicken. The telly was on in the lounge, the weatherman predicting that the heat would continue through the weekend and into the following week.
As she shut the door, she heard her mother call from the kitchen, "Victoria?"
Victoria walked past the stairs toward the back of the house, "Yes, Mum?"
In the kitchen, Mrs. Thomas, who was a tiny woman with a wide face and graying hair, was holding the now empty roasting pan over the stove with a whisk in one hand with an open bag of flour on the counter, "The gravy's nearly done. Put your things away, and then come set the table."
"Yes Mum," she said. Victoria retreated from the kitchen and up the stairs. She walked into her small room, the evening sun streaming through the window, and put her bag onto her bed. Looking back over her shoulder, she pulled out her jumper, quickly unwrapped 1984 and shoved it under her mattress with other books she wasn't allowed to read like The Hobbit and Stranger in a Strange Land.
Victoria went back down stairs. Her mother had brought the roast out onto the table and Victoria pulled out dishes and cutlery to help. The front door opened, and Mr. Thomas greeted his family as he walked into the dining room, post in hand. He was nearly sixty, bald and wore large, practical eye-glasses. The rest of the family finished setting the table and joined him.
The family joined hands and Mr. Thomas said, "Victoria?"
"Dear Lord, thank you for this food, and thank you for this day. Please look out for all the people who need you in all over the world…Amen."
"Amen," her parents chorused.
Mrs. Thomas began to cut the roast as the rest of the family passed the other food around the table. Once all their plates were filled and they had begun eating, Mr. Thomas began to go through the day's post. Most were bills for the home or letters from family. Letters relating to his work went to his parish office. One letter, however gave him pause.
Victoria noticed her father looking inquisitively at a cream envelope with an old fashioned wax seal. "Dad?" She asked.
"Interesting," he murmured before passing the letter to her, "It's for you."
Victoria checked and the letter was addressed to her:
Miss V. Thomas
The Smaller Bedroom
5 Shannon Lane
Owlhill
Cheshire
Opening the letter, the top paper had a crest with the word "Hogwarts" on a banner above it. The crest was quartered and depicted four animals: a lion, badger, snake, and a raven. The letter, in loopy green words said Dear Miss Thomas, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry… She froze and couldn't continue reading, believing that this had to be a joke. Witchcraft and Wizardry...it was too good to be true.
"Victoria?" Her father said when he saw her face, "What is it?" He carefully took the letter from her hands and read over it, his face going from concerned to furious, "The nerve of some people, really, claiming that Victoria is a witch. Witchcraft, as if anything as preposterous – "
Mrs. Thomas's dropped her fork and it clattered against her plate. Her face had lost all of its color, "W-witchcraft?" She stuttered.
Mr. Thomas, although upset, wasn't oblivious to his wife's sudden discomfort, "Jane, what is the matter?"
She shook her head, "Not here…in the study." She got up shakily and followed her peeved husband into his study.
As soon as she heard the door slam shut, Victoria jumped from her chair to follow. She crept toward the door and was able to hear pieces of her parent's heated conversation.
" – don't believe you! How can you believe this rubbish?"
"Matthew, I saw it, the magic –"
"Jane! There is no such thing as magic!"
"Matthew!"
"You persuaded me! It was your idea to adopt her…" Victoria felt as if somebody had punched her in the stomach. She had absolutely no idea that she'd been adopted, "…you're telling me that magic exists and Victoria is a witch! Jane, be reasonable – "
"How could I have been reasonable Matthew? All I wanted was a baby, and after twenty years I would have done anything to have one. And there she was…"
Mr. Thomas, softened somewhat by his memories of his wife's desperation said, "Jane, I don't believe in magic and never will. I believe in God, I always have and I always will. I have a congregation that depends on me for guidance. I cannot believe in magic. To do so is to question God and his Word. If any of this nonsense were to get out, we'd have a crisis of faith. And you Jane, dear, need to right yourself – "
"Matthew," Mrs. Thomas interrupted.
There was the sound of ripping paper; Mr. Thomas still had Victoria's letter. "We'll forget this ever happened, this practical joke. Victoria is a perfectly normal child, our perfectly normal child…"
At the sound of footsteps, Victoria supposed she ran back to her seat, but all she remembered was ringing in her ears. Her parents came back, her mother's face still wet, but she had plastered a smile on his face. Mr. Thomas, who had a similarly fake smile, turned to Victoria and said, "The things teenagers think are funny." He looked at her oddly; it wasn't quite as warm as it had been. Little did Victoria know, her father would never look at her warmly again.
XxXxX
Later that night, Victoria lay in bed, thinking about the letter and her parent's argument. Her eyes welled up with tears. She shouldn't have been surprised that she had been adopted. Her parents had been nearly fifty when she was born. But the admission and the following coolness hurt her like nothing else. Her mother couldn't look at her and her father looked at her as if he blamed Victoria as if it were somehow her fault.
She rolled over and looked out of the small window. The stars were bright and outlined the garden shed, where Victoria saw the silhouettes of several owls before drifting off to sleep.
XxXxX
The next two weeks were the worst Victoria had ever experienced. Overnight, the once happy family home had become a tension-filled nightmare.
The discovery put a terrible strain on the marriage of her parents. Her mother believed that magic did indeed exist and that Victoria was a witch and Mr. Thomas thought she was crazy. There had been stretches of days where her parents had not spoken to each other.
There were also problems between the couple and their daughter. Mr. Thomas, although conservative and a bit strict, was usually never anything less than loving when it came to his daughter. However, it seemed that recent events pushed him beyond his boundaries. He forbade Victoria to leave the house as if the outside world had something to do with her anomaly. Even though he kept her indoors, he withdrew from his daughter; apparently the sight of her reminded him of the entire unpleasant situation which he prefered to avoid. Of course, the reason for the behavior on the part of Mr. Thomas was never uttered aloud. 'Magic' and 'Witch' had become worse than any curse word.
Mrs. Thomas would look at her sympathetically most of the time, as if somehow she'd inflicted this upon her daughter. But, she would flinch every time Victoria made any kind of motion, as if she was afraid her daughter would perform some sort of spell on her.
Now stuck indoors, unable to read anything other than parent-approved literature, Victoria had a lot of time to think. But what she always thought about was the mysterious letter. Victoria had never really believed in magic, as she'd grown up the daughter of a clergyman. Naturally, she hoped that some of what she had read was real, but there was no proof. However, as Victoria continued contemplating the idea of magic really existing, the more it seemed that she was already living her fantasy.
Last summer, she remembered slipping into a muddy puddle and completely ruining Jane Eyre. The cover had been nearly torn off and the pages were wet and soggy. She cried all the way home since the book was loaned by the library and they'd tell her parents about the damage, alerting them to her unacceptable reading choices. She'd run into the washroom, to try and clean the book. She pulled it out of her bag and promptly dropped it on the counter in complete shock. The novel looked perfectly new, like she'd just bought it at a shop. The librarian had been very confused when Victoria returned a book that was in better condition than the one she'd checked out.
Could magic be responsible for fixing the book?
She also recalled a visit to a water park in the States the previous spring while her parents were on their annual Africa mission trip. While on the giant water playground, one annoying boy kept aiming some trickling water at her and her younger cousin, Abby's faces as they waited in line for a water slide by holding his thumb over the opening like it was a garden hose. Sputtering, unable to open her eyes and fruitlessly trying to protect her face with her hands, Victoria stomped her foot angrily. There was a loud cry and the boy stopped. Victoria looked over the railing and saw that the spigot had somehow reversed itself and was shooting high pressured water into the boy's face.
Looking back, she wasn't sure that these odd occurrences were magic, but in a way it made sense. Victoria shook her head. There was no such thing as magic and she certainly wasn't capable of using it to fix books or fend off bratty boys; she shouldn't get her hopes up. It wasn't as if she'd said "Abra Kadabra" and fixed the book or turned the spigot. It wasn't magic, it was just weird…
But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't eliminate the small swell of hope growing within her. Until recently, she'd had a relatively happy childhood. But ever since she'd found out that she was adopted and that maybe, just maybe, she was a witch and could do magic, which could really exist, she'd felt out of place. And the more she thought about it, she came to the realization that she'd always felt this way. It was one of those things that you didn't quite notice until someone else pointed it out to you; she didn't realize she didn't belong until her parent's argument…
There was a knock on her door, "Breakfast," Mrs. Thomas said, not even opening the door. Victoria heard her retreating steps and got up from her small arm chair by the window, where she'd been lost to her deep musings.
Normally, breakfasts on any weekday, including Wednesdays like today, were nothing special –a bit of toast and some fresh fruit, maybe an egg. However, since the arrival of the mysterious letter and the resulting argument, Mrs. Thomas had lost all her usual culinary enthusiasm. Waiting at their places at the table were bowls of cold cereal. Nobody complained.
The family of three sat down and ate their breakfast in silence. Mrs. Thomas kept her eyes on her bowl and Mr. Thomas skimmed the morning paper. Victoria read today's date and realized that tomorrow, the 13th of August, was her eleventh birthday.
Halfway through their meal, something unexpected happened. Not even nine in the morning and there was somebody knocking at their door. Some might find this odd, but in Owlhill, between the milkman and newspaper delivery boy at dawn and neighbors during tea time in the afternoon, nobody would ever pay the Thomas home a visit unannounced.
Mr. Thomas folded his newspaper stiffly and stood to see who it was. His wife and daughter craned their heads in an attempt to catch a glimpse of this visitor through the archway. They watched as Mr. Thomas opened the door, frown in place, ready to say something rude, when his mouth dropped and he seemed lost for words. The visitor side-stepped the gaping Mr. Thomas and entered the dining room through the archway. At once, they knew what had stopped Mr. Thomas cold.
The visitor was a tall man with shoulder length, greasy hair, sallow skin, and a large, hooked nose. He wore what looked like robes, a frock coat, and a sneer. All in all, Victoria imagined he'd just stepped out of an Austin novel, or more likely Bronte. The man eyes, black, suddenly found her, and she swallowed nervously. However, his hard expression softened, "Miss Thomas?"
All Victoria could do was nod.
The stranger continued, and turned his attention to her parents – Mr. Thomas had come away from the foyer and had situated himself between this intruder and his family, "I am Severus Snape, a professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft – "
He was interrupted by Mrs. Thomas, who pointed her finger at her husband, "I was right! I am not crazy, I – "
Mr. Thomas interupted, "Jane, we've had this conversation before, there's no such thing as magic!" He seemed to have no problem airing his family's dirty laundry in front to Professor Snape, probably because he believed such a character had no credibility.
But at that moment, Professor Snape pulled out a thin, wooden stick and pointed it at their kitchen table. The vase, which until recently had always held fresh flowers, was suddenly a teapot with a flick of his stick. Another swish and all of the breakfast dishes were dancing around the teapot, which had started to emit soapy bubbles. Professor Snape put away his stick and said sarcastically, "Obviously, there is no such thing as magic."
Mr. Thomas collapsed into his chair and cradled his head in his hands. Mrs. Thomas didn't look quite so pleased about being right anymore. However, Victoria watched as the bubbles accumulated at the ceiling, un-popped, and the dishes switched from a waltz to a salsa, with growing anticipation: the swell of hope had blossomed.
Mr. Thomas moaned from beneath his hands and said, his words somewhat muffled, "No, it can't be true. All my life, I've believed, had faith in God and his Word and now – "
"This has nothing to do with you," Professor Snape snapped. "A fortnight ago, a letter was sent to Miss Thomas informing her that she has a place at our school. There was no reply back confirming or declining Miss Thomas's attendance in the fall. The headmaster has sent me here to see if there is a problem and it seems there is."
"You'll teach her to be a witch at this school of yours?" Mr. Thomas asked. He had removed his hands from his face and was now attempting to stare down Professor Snape.
Professor Snape was not a man easily intimidated, "Miss Thomas was born a witch. At Hogwarts, she will learn how to control and channel her magic."
Mr. Thomas, although he had been shaken by the proof of magic, was not about to let it continue any longer, "So I assume she'll need broomsticks and cauldrons?"
"First years are not permitted to have broomsticks, but a cauldron is required for Potions class. Did you not read the list of necessary equipment sent with her letter?"
"She'll not be going! She can't if I don't pay for it!"
Victoria's heart sank. Her father would never let her be a witch. Two weeks ago, she would have thought that he just didn't want her to go so far away for school. Now, however, she knew that her father had, for over half a century, a firm control of reality, one consisting solely of faith and Christian logic. He wasn't about to relinquish it on account of a ten year old, daughter or not.
However, Professor Snape responded coolly, "Hogwarts has adequate funds to assist Miss Thomas in her education." He then turned to Victoria and said almost gently, "Come along, Miss Thomas, there is a lot that needs to be purchased." He extended his hand.
Mr. Thomas stood up, "She won't go with you! I won't allow it!" He put himself between Professor Snape and his daughter, hoping that the physical barrier would deter the younger man.
At the threat, Professor Snape pulled out his thin stick once more. Mr. Thomas flinched and moved away at the sight of it, but Professor Snape flicked it toward the table lazily. The bubbles stopped and the dishes glided back down to the table. He extended his left hand, "Miss Thomas."
In books that she had read, there were always moments that would require the protagonist to make a decision that would forever alter the course of their lives. As she reached for Professor Snape's pale hand, Victoria hoped that this was her moment, and it was.
Once her small hand was comfortably in Professor Snape's, Mr. Thomas made one last effort to stop his daughter, to maintain control of reality. He tried to guilt her with religion, "Victoria, please stay. Don't ignore everything you've ever believed in. You know what'll happen if you become a witch? You won't be among the saved any longer. You're such a good girl, you've always obeyed Scripture, always obeyed your parents." She flexed her hand uncomfortably as she remembered all the books she had to read in secret. Professor Snape started to guide her into the parlor. Flicking his stick, a fire roared to life within the hearth. He then removed a small black pouch. As they, for some reason unknown to Victoria, approached the fireplace, her father tried again , "Victoria, please, we're your family, I'm your father, you wouldn't leave us. Come, let's go back to the way things were."
Professor Snape threw some of powder into the fire, turning the flames green. He pulled Victoria against him, but she was only vaguely registering it. Her mind was still sorting through her father's words, but a second later, she replied softly, "It doesn't matter if I go or stay. Nothing will be the same again, though, will it?"
Mr. Thomas, at last, seemed to surrender to the truth: his daughter was a witch and because of that, everything had changed.
Professor Snape readjusted his hold on Victoria and walked into the green flames calling out, "Diagon Alley!"
The flames flew up and Victoria watch as her parent's horrified faces disappeared. Soon, she saw other fireplaces in other houses flash by. She found herself getting dizzy, and buried her face into Professor Snape's side. Soon, there were flames once more, then only the sound of a…pub – clinking glasses and murmured conversations. Victoria looked around as Professor Snape led her out of the pub's fireplace. She sneezed as she breathed in ash and attempted to brush it off her blouse and skirt. Professor Snape muttered something, and soon the ash disappeared. After putting his thin stick away, he hesitated, before reaching out gently and righting Victoria's crooked headband. With a hand on her upper back, he guided Victoria over to the bar area, where a bald, toothless man was conversing with two old women in witch's hats. "Breakfast for two, Tom." Professor Snape ordered.
Tom jumped, and turned toward Professor Snape. His eyes opened wide and he stammered, "O-of course, s-sir."
Professor Snape then led Victoria to a secluded booth near in the corner near a dingy window. She looked outside and seeing that they were in a city, exclaimed, "Where are we?"
"London, at The Leaky Cauldron," he then gestured for her to look closer outside, "If look closely, you will notice how the Muggles walk right by the pub, as if they don't even see it? The Leaky Cauldron can only be seen by wizards, or witches like yourself."
"What's a Muggle?"
Professor Snape thought this over, not as if he didn't know the answer, but because he didn't want to give her a wrong answer, "Muggles are people without magical blood."
"Like my parents?"
"Correct."
Tom arrived with two plates laden with eggs, toast, sausage, and bacon. A tea tray followed him, floating in midair. After the plates had been set down, Tom scurried off as fast as he could, Victoria calling out, "Thank you!" She put her napkin on her lap as Professor Snape prepared the tea. When he paused and looked up at her, Victoria supplied "Two sugars, please."
The odd pair ate their breakfast in almost silence, Victoria furtively trying to look around at the rest of the pub and its other occupants. At one point, green flames rose in the fireplace and a whole slew of red-headed people came out one-by-one. Cocking her head, Victoria asked, "What is that, how we got here?"
Professor Snape finished chewing, wiped his mouth, and answered, "Floo Powder. One merely needs a pinch of it and to clearly announce their intended destination."
"You can go anywhere?"
"Only to fireplaces that are connected to the Floo Network."
"Oh," was all she said, but she didn't quite understand all of his explanation. She had a lot to learn about magic, which prompted her next question, "Sir, what exactly do I need for Hogwarts?"
Professor Snape paused once more, then reached into his robes, pulled out an envelope, and handed it to her. It was identical to the one she had been sent weeks earlier. She perused the list, "Sir, that thing you used earlier, is that a wand?"
He merely nodded, then got up from the table, reached into his robes and pulled out a few silver coins. She was still examining the coins, when Professor Snape, who'd been nothing but patient with her, said anxiously "Tori, come along."
Victoria got up slowly, "What did you call me sir?"
Professor Snape froze and closed his eyes, letting out a soft groan as if he knew he'd made a mistake. Opening his eyes and keeping his expression neutral he explained, "Just a slip of the tongue."
Victoria smiled shyly, "I like it."
He didn't quite smile, but he placed he hand on her back and gently guided her past the bar, out a door, and into a brick alley. Using his wand, he tapped a few bricks. Soon, all the bricks were scooting out of the way. Putting away his wand, Professor Snape said, "Welcome, Tori, to Diagon Alley."
XxXxX
Victoria was, in her opinion, a well-read girl. She'd been called a 'bookworm' for years now and had a tested University reading level. But never in all the books she had read, had any author described anything as amazing as Diagon Alley. Shops and street vendors sold everything that could ever be associated with witchcraft and wizardry. Everybody wandering the streets were wizards or witches, though some more obvious than others with flowing robes and pointed hats. Some were students like her, but they seemed to avoid Professor Snape like he was the plague. Victoria couldn't understand why; he'd been nothing but helpful and patient as she shopped for her school supplies.
They bought a cauldron and starter's potion kit at the apothecary. It was there that Victoria learned Professor Snape taught potions and was the head of Slytherin, one of the four houses of Hogwarts (Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw were the other three). Victoria secretly hoped to be in his house. As they went from shop to shop, she asked Professor Snape endless questions about everything from Hogwarts to magical history, Quidditch to spells. And no matter how simple or complicated the answer, Professor Snape supplied them with his typical blank face, but occasionally his mouth would twitch into an almost smile at Victoria's childlike awe at the new world around her.
Along with the cauldron, she bought other supplies necessary for learning magic: parchment, quills, scales, robes, hats, and most importantly, her wand – Thirty centimeters, sturdy, phoenix feather, and rosewood, very good for defense, the wandmaker, Mr. Ollivander, had told her. All that was left was to buy her school books.
As they approached the bookshop, Flourish and Blotts, Professor Snape groaned. Victoria looked and saw a crowd of people fighting their way into the tiny bookshop. She also noticed that they were primarily women. Apparently somebody named Gilderoy Lockhart had a book signing today. She pulled out her list and saw that half of her required booklist was written by Mr. Lockhart, who after asking Professor Snape, Victoria learned was famous for defeating a variety of magical creatures and then writing books about his feats.
Victoria didn't have any trouble getting into Flourish and Blotts; the crowd seemed to part for Professor Snape as if, no pun intended, by magic. The little shop was packed with people. Professor Snape stopped her from going in any further, "Wait here, I will get your textbooks."
"Okay," Victoria said and he disappeared into the crowd. She took in the bookshop, its shelves packed with books on every subject. Holding on to her cauldron, she picked one up randomly and saw it was Quick Fixes: Potions for the Everyday Women. While she browsed through the first few pages, she heard the middle-aged witches around her squeal. Looking up, she watched a golden-haired man with a glowing smile and flashy robes step into the room. Victoria guessed this was Gilderoy Lockhart. Another man was busy snapping pictures with a camera that let off great plumes of smoke which appeared to delight Mr. Lockhart, who continued to bask in the attention.
Suddenly, Mr. Lockhart's face lit up and he exclaimed loudly, "It can't be Harry Potter?" The crowed began talking excitedly, and Victoria imagined this Harry Potter was another famous wizard like Mr. Lockhart. But as this Harry Potter was dragged up toward Mr. Lockhart, Victoria found him unlike any celebrity she'd ever seen on tabloid covers or on the telly. Harry Potter was a scrawny boy about her age and he was quite dirty with soot. His hair stuck up all over and he was wearing round eye-glasses. He had a lighting bolt shaped scar on his forehead. The photographer took several pictures of the two. Harry Potter looked uncomfortable whereas Mr. Lockhart grinned and gushed. Holding onto a fidgeting Harry Potter, Mr. Lockhart announced to the crowd that he'd be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts this year.
Victoria turned her attention away from the wizard celebrities, and was reading instructions on a healer approved acne remedy when somebody stopped next to her and said in a cool voice, "Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?" Victoria turned and came face to face with sneering boy. The boy was tall and thin, with pale blond hair. He had directed his insult at Harry Potter, who, with a gaggle of red-headed boys, was trying to get away from camera-loving Mr., or rather Professor, Lockhart. The blond boy continued, "Famous Harry Potter can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page."
Victoria watched Harry Potter's bright green eyes narrow. She then acted on impulse, something that rarely happened and was usually regretted, "Leave him alone."
The blond boy laughed, "Potter, you've got yourself a girlfriend!"
Victoria blushed furiously and looked down at her worn trainers as Harry Potter took a threatening step toward the blond boy.
A red-headed man pushed through the crowd to reach them, "Harry! What are you doing? It's too crowded in here, let's go outside."
"Well, well, well – Arthur Weasley." An older man, another blond, said, waltzing up to the group.
"Lucius," Mr. Weasley said politely, but coolly.
"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear…" He stopped when he spotted someone over Victoria's shoulder, "Snape!"
Professor Snape joined the group, carrying Victoria's books. "Malfoy," he replied civilly.
"Fancy seeing you here Snape," Mr. Malfoy said, twirling his ebony cane idly.
Professor Snape slid some of the books into Victoria's cauldron, "I've come to assist Miss Thomas in purchasing her school supplies."
Mr. Malfoy raised an eyebrow as he reached into cauldron and pulled out a book with the glossy title Hogwarts, A History, "I don't seem to recall this being on the list."
Professor Snape responded, his face completely neutral, "Miss Thomas, is, as children should be, highly inquisitive. I have thus far answered all of her questions, but she might want more information."
"Ah, she's Muggleborn, then?" Mr. Malfoy said the word 'Muggleborn' like it was a dirty word and the rest of the group reacted. All of the red-heads – Weasleys, Victoria presumed – stiffened. Harry Potter shifted next to her, his shoulder brushing against hers. Professor Snape placed his free hand on her opposite shoulder.
Then Mr. Malfoy, for the first time, really looked at Victoria, and his eyes widened. He straightened his cane, and gripped the top tightly, still scrutinizing her, "Interesting."
Victoria lowered her face, put Mr. Malfoy pushed it back up with the end of his cane and looked into her eyes. She felt Professor Snape's grip on her shoulder tighten, "Malfoy," he warned.
Mr. Malfoy lowered his cane and shoved Victoria's book back into the cauldron. He smirked, delighted for some reason, and then gave the entire group one last sweeping glance as he said, "Come along, Draco." He turned and walked back toward the shop's exit. The Malfoy boy gave Harry Potter another glare before following his father.
After the Malfoys had departed, most of the group relaxed. Professor Snape, hand still on her shoulder, began to push her toward the door just as she heard Mr. Weasley say, "Let's wait for your mother outside."
"Thanks!" She heard someone call out as Professor Snape opened the door.
As they exited Florish and Blotts, Victoria looked over her shoulder to catch one last glance of Harry Potter. He smiled softly at her.
XxXxX
It was late in the afternoon by the time Victoria and Professor Snape had finished shopping, so he suggested they stop at The Leaky Cauldron for dinner. Victoria, who hadn't had anything to eat since their breakfast, agreed enthusiastically.
Tom, the barman, once again nervously served the two. At first, Victoria's hunger kept her quiet and Professor Snape, she had figured out, wasn't one to begin conversations, so they ate in relative silence.
As Victoria finished her lamb, she realized that she had been incredibly rude, "Professor! I'm sorry I didn't do it before, but I want to say thanks for the book."
Professor Snape put down his cutlery, "It may not help much. I am sure that I have more than thoroughly gone over the book's content this afternoon, courtesy of your questions," he paused for a moment before continuing, "But, besides sating your curiosity, I hoped it might prove a suitable gift for your birthday tomorrow."
"How'd you know?"
"Teachers are privy to the birthdates of their students."
Victoria beamed, and Professor Snape looked suspiciously pleased with himself.
Victoria's smiles continued through the rest of dinner as she peppered Professor Snape with questions about Potions. After Tom served dessert, she got around to telling him about the potions she'd seen in that book at Flourish and Blotts, but he waved a dismissing hand, "Written by idiots for idiots. Don't concern yourself with trendy potions, Miss Thomas. You'll learn far more useful things at Hogwarts."
At this, she was reminded of something from earlier in the day, something Mr. Malfoy had said. "Sir," she began and Professor Snape stopped eating his trifle, "At the bookshop, Mr. Malfoy…he made it seem like being Muggleborn is bad. Is it?
"Miss Thomas," he paused, and for the first time that day, his composure cracked and he looked unsure, "Tori, you are a novice witch, a stranger to our world. Because of this, you have it in your head that our world is perfect and that its wizards and witches are infallible. To answer your question, yes, being a Muggleborn would be considered bad, but by those in Malfoy's circle. Some, like the Malfoys, believe that magic should only be taught to those of pureblood, that is, those with magical parents. However, those beliefs have been passed on for centuries, but that is all they are: beliefs. There is no credible evidence to prove that purebloods make better wizards or witches. To the contrary, some of my best students are Muggleborn."
"It doesn't matter to you?" She asked. She'd be heartbroken if it did. He was the first wizard she'd ever met and had spent the entire day patiently putting up with her curiosity and ignorance. His approval meant everything to her.
Professor Snape didn't speak right away, but he his face had a faraway look that made Victoria believe that he was remembering something truly unpleasant. At long last he answered, "Not anymore."
Victoria wanted to ask what he meant, but his face had regained its usual blank expression and he resumed eating his dessert. She felt bad for asking him such a personal question, so she tried to change the topic, "That boy, Harry Potter, why's he famous?"
Professor Snape sneered, "Potter, meddlesome, arrogant," he took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to calm himself.
"Professor?" Victoria asked, concerned. She hadn't ever seen him display this much emotion.
"When Harry Potter was a baby, he defeated the most powerful dark wizard in recent history. The Dark Lord cast a killing curse at Potter, but somehow it rebounded back at the Dark Lord. All Potter got was that scar on his forehead," he stopped once more, and then corrected himself, "Potter also lost; the Dark Lord managed to kill Potter's parents."
"He's an orphan?"
"Yes." He said shortly.
Victoria was surprised at the malice used when Professor Snape spoke discussed Harry Potter, so once again she defended him "He didn't look like he enjoyed the attention."
"So it would seem, but just a few months ago, he, after breaking countless school rules, came face to face the Dark Lord once more."
"I thought you said he was defeated?"
Professor Snape sighed, "That is what most in our world believe. Potter may have defeated the Dark Lord as a baby, but the Dark Lord didn't die. He is still out there, desperate for any means of rebirth. He regained strength last year by drinking unicorn blood and nearly succeeding in stealing the Sorcerer's Stone, which would have granted him immortality."
"Do you think he'll ever come back?"
Professor Snape looked at her with a peculiar expression, "I hope not."
XxXxX
The mood had soured their desire for dessert. The pair left their unfinished trifle and made their way over to the pub's fireplace, Victoria's school things in tow.
This time, Victoria managed to keep her eyes opened as they traveled via Floo away from London and back to Owlhill. She watched her father, who looked particularly haggard, drop his tea cup. Standing up hastily, he said, "You're back! Jane, they're back!"
Mrs. Thomas came quickly, but hovered near the door. Her parents stared at the odd shaped packages, cauldron, and school books with funny names.
Professor Snape reached into his pocket; Victoria's parents flinched, but instead of his wand, he pulled out a slip of paper and handed it to her, "Your ticket," he turned to Mrs. Thomas, "On September 1st, Miss Thomas needs to be at Kings Cross Station in London. Her train leaves at eleven." She said nothing, but her mother nodded weakly. Professor Snape then reached for Victoria's shoulder, grasping it fondly, "I'll see you at Hogwarts, Miss Thomas." He flicked his wrist and Victoria's school things floated toward and up the stairs. He briskly walked past the Thomas family, into the foyer, and out the front door.
Victoria ran after him calling, "Professor!" but when she looked out onto dusky Shannon Lane, Professor Snape was nowhere to be seen.
XxXxX
Not surprisingly, Victoria's parents did not ask about her day out with the mysterious Professor Snape. Upon physically seeing her travel through the fireplace and come back through with everything needed for witchcraft, he father shut down. Before he just tried to avoid her; now he wouldn't even acknowledge her existence. She expected that he ignored her out of an inability to cope with the fact that everything he'd ever believed could be wrong, but she was still hurt. He was her father; shouldn't he love her no matter what? Her mother looked at her with watery eyes, but was too timid to do anything that might upset her husband.
All in all, Victoria didn't stay downstairs long after Professor Snape vanished. Instead, she walked up to her room and looking through her school things and found Arsenius Jigger's Magical Drafts and Potions. Smiling, she began reading, desperately hoping all the while that she might be Professor Snape's best Muggleborn student.