But as it turned out, Fiona did see Lenny at breakfast.
"I heard they will be giving out timetables," he explained as Fiona looked quizzically at his empty plate, while spreading a rich portion of strawberry jam over her toast, "didn't want to miss that."
Handing out the timetables was a task delegated to Professor Hawthorn, and he obviously took it very seriously. He carried a long list bearing the students' names, and in the case of sixth-years, notes on which O. they have completed and which N.E. they have signed up to take. Fiona's timetable was quite full, as she was taking Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, and of course, as befits Professor Snape's daughter, Potions.
Lenny's timetable was a lot like her own, minus Care of Magical Creatures. Instead, he took History of Magic.
"History of Magic?" Fiona peered into his timetable disbelievingly, "History of Magic?"
"I find it fascinating," Lenny replied loftily.
"Well, to each their own," Fiona shrugged, "but I'm warning you, around here the subject is taught by Professor Binns, he's a ghost and I could never get through his classes without dozing off. Are you sure you can't eat anything here?" she added pityingly, looking at his empty plate.
"Oh, go ahead," he said sarcastically, "pass that plate of eggs and bacon."
"Ha, ha… very funny…"
As ignorant as Fiona was about Jewish matters, one bit of information she knew for sure. Jews don't eat bacon.
A few minutes later, they started off for Arithmancy together.
During the morning break, Fiona heard a voice behind her in the courtyard. Someone was calling her name breathlessly. It was Anna.
"Hey," said Fiona, "what's up?"
"First Quidditch practice this weekend," said Anna, smiling from ear to ear. She looked very excited. "Will you come and see me fly, Fiona?"
"Practice?" Fiona frowned, "I thought they usually hold tryouts first."
"Usually, yes," Anna nodded, "but Torbjorn says he saw me play last year and he knows he won't find anyone better than me. He told me today I can count myself in already."
"Did he, now?" Fiona's eyebrows became knitted together even closer. She didn't like one bit what she was hearing – not that Torbjorn Rowle was made Quidditch captain, and not that he was so keen to get Anna on the team, which, Fiona knew, had little to do with his confidence in her sister's talent. "I still think he should hold tryouts, if only to be fair."
"Oh, come on, Fiona," Anna laughed airily, "it sounds as though you don't think I'm good enough! Be at the Quidditch pitch on Saturday at ten, right after breakfast."
In the meantime, Septimus was strolling along the courtyard when he heard whispered mutterings.
"Honestly, I wish there was a different school to go to…"
"If he favored the Slytherins until now, I see no reason why that should change now he's Headmaster –"
"Look at the bright side, at least we don't have to endure him during Potions now, that bullying, evil –"
The two Gryffindor third-years had to stop abruptly when one of them, Dan Middleton, had a wand stuck at the bridge of his nose, the furious face of Septimus very close to his.
"You shut your mouth about my Dad!" bellowed Septimus.
Undoubtedly, Dan Middleton didn't feel entirely comfortable with a wand at his face, but he tried to keep his voice steady.
"Snape, isn't it? Go ahead, then, show us what curses you learned from your father – no doubt he still remembers a few tricks he learned from the time he worked for You-Know-Who – go ahead –"
"You are lying!" yelled Sep, "my Dad would never have anything to do with the Dark Arts! He could never support You-Know-Who!"
And forgetting all about his wand, he punched Dan Middleton hard on the nose. There was a sickening crunch and a gushing flow of blood, and Septimus felt himself being pulled up forcefully by the scruff of his neck.
"An' what's that yeh think yeh're doin'?" demanded an angry voice. Dan and his friends exchanged gleeful looks: it was Rubeus Hagrid, the Head of Gryffindor house and Care of Magical Creatures teacher, and they have rarely seen him looking so furious.
"He started it," Dan Middleton said quickly, "he hit me!" The other boy nodded.
"He was having a go at my Dad, he was telling dirty lies about him!" shouted Septimus, breathing heavily with rage.
"Off ter the hospital wing you go, then, Dan," said Hagrid, "move along, now, there's nothin' ter look at," he added to the small crowd of students that had grouped around them to watch the scene. "An' you, Snape, come with me. C'mon."
He marched Septimus forward, into the sunlit grounds, past the greenhouses, and in the direction of his cabin. Once they were standing outside his door, Septimus spoke again. He was more composed now.
"He was saying horrible things about my father, sir," he said, "I couldn't let him –"
"We teach yeh more'n magic here at Hogwarts," growled Hagrid, "we teach yeh how ter control yerselves, and as yer Head of House, Snape, I will tell yeh righ' away that violence isn't tolerated here, an' if yeh hit someone else, unprovoked, ever again, I will take yeh straight ter the –"
"Headmaster?" prompted Septimus, "Go ahead, sir, I will be glad to tell my Dad that – that –"
"Tell?" Hagrid said softly, "surely yeh wouldn' tell on them, lad?"
The words died in Septimus's throat. He knew his father too well not to understand that telling the tale might well result in expulsion for Dan and his friend, if not worse.
"It'll be detention, then, Snape," said Hagrid, "tonight, after dinner, right here. Don' be late, mind, yeh won' go up ter bed until yeh're done."
… "Wow, Sep," James Potter sounded almost jealous, "I think even I never managed to land in detention on the first day of school! What will you be doing?"
"No idea," shrugged Septimus, a grain of worry springing up in his mind. What will he be doing? It will be dark after dinner, and Hagrid's hut was right on the edge of the dark and mysterious Forbidden Forest.
He hadn't told his friends exactly why he ended up hitting Dan Middleton. He muttered something vague about Dan saying nasty stuff about his father.
"Don't worry, Sep," said Albus, "we know Hagrid, he's alright, he won't make you do anything too horrible."
Still, it was with a heavy heart that Septimus made his way down the sloping lawns after dinner. The sun was setting and the grounds looked mysterious in the lengthening shadows, and the way to Hagrid's cabin seemed to take twice as long as it did when he went there in the morning.
"Good, yeh're here," said Hagrid, opening the door after Septimus's tentative knock, "c'min, now, I thought yeh'd do summat useful fer me."
Septimus looked around him. He had met Hagrid several times before he started at Hogwarts, and therefore was not surprised to see that just about everything in Hagrid's house – from the bed in the corner and the roughly carved wooden chairs to the bucket-sized mugs upon the vast table – seemed much larger than he would have expected to see in households of normal humans.
And then Septimus let out a soft "wow", because resting on a rug by the enormous fireplace was a creature of breathtaking beauty, the likes of which he had never seen before – a unicorn foal, pure silver, with slender legs and a silky long tail.
"He's been feeling a bit under the weather," explained Hagrid, "so I decided I'd keep 'im in me hut fer a couple o'days, until he recovers. I need ter prepare food fer him – yeh'll help me do it, alright, Septimus?"
Hagrid gestured towards the table, which displayed a selection of young carrots, celery roots, radishes, apples and pears.
"Start by slicin' a couple of apples," suggested Hagrid, "and offer them ter 'im. If he likes it, cut up some fer tomorrow."
Septimus started working, feeling enormously relieved. The young unicorn seemed to have taken a liking to him, and by the end of the first few minutes, he was already stroking its sleek silver hair.
"Unicorns are really beau'iful at this age," Hagrid told, "this one's abou' three years old. I'll have ter show him ter yer sister, Fiona – we always got along great, me an' her, she really has a sense fer treating magical creatures."
When Septimus finished making a supply of chopped carrots and radishes for the sick unicorn, Hagrid walked him back to the castle. Septimus's heart was light. He felt as though the detention was a real treat, Hagrid was not as threatening as he looked, and he got an invitation to come to tea next Friday, together with Al.
… On Saturday, Fiona made her way down to the Quidditch pitch, which was booked in advance by Torbjorn Rowle. She didn't like what she saw. There was no doubt Anna flew well, but even if she hadn't, Fiona thought that Rowle's enthusiasm would remain unchanged. Anna's willowy figure was darting on a broomstick among the goalposts, her long chestnut hair tied into a sleek, shiny knot. Torbjorn Rowle watched her with an admiration which sometimes passed, unnoticed, into a look of pure greed. After practice was over and the Slytherin players started filing out of the changing rooms, Fiona pulled her sister aside.
"I'm glad you could make it, Fiona," Anna said brightly, "how was I?"
"Really good," winced Fiona, "but… there's something else, Anna."
"Yes?" prompted Anna, a faint crease of concern appearing on her smooth brow.
"I think Rowle fancies you, Anna."
"Torbjorn?" Anna's expression became enthusiastic, "Gertie and Vinny said so too – that he might be – you know – interested." She giggled. "I don't want to get my hopes up yet, though. After all, he's two years older than me, and very good looking – and he's Quiddtich captain! I mean, I certainly wouldn't say no to him, but I might just have to take a ticket and stand in line."
Whatever Anna said, it was impossible not to notice Rowle's obvious attentions towards her. On Sunday morning, he left his faithful knot of Slytherin sixth-years to sit next to Anna at breakfast. Fiona couldn't hear what they were talking about at their table, but Rowle often leaned close to her sister under the pretext of refilling her glass or passing her a plate of rolls, and Fiona saw Anna's dazzling smile every time he did that. It made her blood boil.
She was quite grumpy that evening when she went up to the common room, where she joined Lenny in one of the armchairs by the fire. Lenny was feverishly jotting down a Transfiguration essay; his roll of parchment was trailing down from the table onto the floor, and his quill was scurrying back and forth, filling the parchment with crumpled minuscule letters.
An open box of kosher toffees was lying among Lenny's pile of schoolbooks. Without saying a word, Fiona unwrapped one and popped it into her mouth.
"I ought to start working on that essay for Professor Jones too," Fiona thickly said through a mouthful of toffee, rummaging in her bag for her books, parchment and quill.
"Want to have a look at what I wrote?" Lenny offered, pushing his almost finished homework towards her, "I must say this school has some pretty high standards – took me almost all evening, this essay. Is everything alright, Fiona?"
"Torbjorn Rowle is trying to woo my sister," Fiona confessed, "and I'm afraid he as good as succeeded."
"Torbjorn Rowle?" an expression of unpleasant recognition passed upon Lenny's face, "not Thorfinn Rowle's son?"
"That's the one," said Fiona, "have you heard of Rowle senior, then?"
"Oh, Thorfinn Rowle wasn't just any old Death Eater," Lenny said conversationally, "he had a special corner in his heart for Jewish wizards. Hated us worse than Muggle-borns. He murdered a Jewish wizarding family near Birmingham – I'm not sure if he ever met any Jewish Muggles, but if he did, I don't envy them."
Fiona listened to Lenny with a look of deep disgust etched upon her face.
"I don't think Torbjorn Rowle is much different," she said, "he's more than a bully. He's creepy. He's not simply a troublemaker like, say, James Potter – he's sinister and I don't like seeing him around Anna. I don't like it at all. Obviously he fancies her because of her good looks, but the fact that our father is Headmaster – I doubt he overlooks that, either…"
"And you think your sister might start going out with him?" asked Lenny, concerned.
"I'm afraid so," Fiona nodded glumly, "he's too clever to let Anna see how he treats people, and he can be charming when he wants to. He's not bad looking, I have to give him that, and he's not an idiot."
"Well, if you don't want them to end up together," Lenny said slowly, "provide a distraction."
For a few moments Fiona stared at him, puzzled. Then, a dreamy smile lit up her face.
"There is someone who is rather good at providing distractions," she said triumphantly, "and I know for a fact he likes Anna."