"I can't believe you get along with Filch," said Harry. He was sitting at a picnic table that Hagrid had set up outside of his hut. Ron sat next to him, Lindsay sat across from him, and Hermione was seated next to Lindsay. Everyone had their cups of tea. Huge rock cakes and some dainty tea biscuits were set out on an impressively large tray. They were waiting for Hagrid to emerge from his hut and join them.
"He's not so bad once you get to know him."
"Who would want to?" snorted Ron.
"I just like to get along with everyone," said Lindsay. "My mom called me a people-pleaser. Anyway, Filch is a sweetheart compared to Mr. Roberts. Did I mention him before?"
"No, you haven't," said Hermione, without lifting her head from an impressively thick Arithmancy textbook.
"He was the elderly uncle of one of my medical school classmates. He was quite ill. He had terminal cancer and needed looking after. Becca was too busy to look after him herself, so she asked me to help. We took turns checking in on him. He was a nasty piece of work. He hit people with his cane, threw things, and I'm told he even bit a few people. It took some effort, but we eventually became good friends. It's like what Hagrid says about animals, 'you have to find what calms them'. People are the same; you have to find their triggers. Mr. Roberts' trigger was literature. He had a vast knowledge of literary works. Personally, I never had much of an interest in literature, beyond what I had to read for school assignments. I was always more of hard cold facts sort of person."
"You can relate to that, can't you, Hermione?" said Harry with a wicked grin.
Lindsay blew on her hot tea a few times before continuing. "It was my night to look in on him. He was living in his library by this point. He couldn't make it up the stairs anymore…"
"That's so sad," said Hermione. Harry was politely listening. Ron looked bored.
"…I gave him his dinner, which he threw at me. I moved and it hit the pockets doors behind me and splattered onto some of his books. He became very upset and asked-well, pleaded really-that I clean them. I did, and then I gave them to him for inspection. We started talking about them, and that opened the door. I spent a lot of time with him after that. He taught me so much. I never thought that talking about books would teach me so much about people."
"I'm not sure I follow," said Hermione.
"There's a first."
"Shut up, Ron," snapped Hermione.
"When you read a book everything seems so obvious. The ink is black, the pages are white, and the words are all there in front of you. Mr. Roberts showed me that the real meaning is rarely the obvious one. There are secret meanings between the lines. Many times the writer isn't even aware of them. They're parts of the writer's subconscious that manage to escape onto the page for others to find. So books…well not so much books in general, but creative works are very much like people. The real person isn't usually the one we see, but someone deeper, someone hidden."
"You've totally lost me," said Ron.
"Why am I not surprised?" said Hermione.
"Then again, there are those people who don't hide much of anything-right, Ron?" said Lindsay with a grin, her cup of tea hovering about her lips. She took a sip and began again. "He was a living skeleton toward the end. He became so weak that he needed help with the smallest things. I remember the first time I helped him wash. He bore the indignity stoically, but I cried like hell-after I went home, of course. He was in tremendous pain, but he never complained, not once. I begged him to let me stay with him. I kept telling him how worried I was, but he just said in that very haughty way of his, 'Don't be silly, I'm going to live forever.' I checked on him one morning, on my way to class, and he was gone. He looked so peaceful; all the pain in his face was gone. I really miss him…I'm not talking too much, am I?"
"Just a bit," said Ron. Hermione kicked him under the table.
"I have to respect blunt honesty," said Lindsay.
"Look, there's Snape with his wand out," said Ron. "I wonder what he's up to." They all turned to see Snape with his wand drawn, sprinting toward the tree line and disappearing.
"Ah, the double entendres that are running through my mind right now."
"See that they stay there, Miss Gray," came the stern voice of Minerva McGonagall from behind Lindsay. She was quickly striding toward Hagrid's hut.
"Yes, ma'am," said Lindsay.
"Double what?"
"Double meanings, Ronald," said Hermione.
"Huh?"
"I'll explain it to him later, Hermione," said Harry.
"That guy moves like greased lightning," said Lindsay as she set down her huge tea cup.
"He isn't called the Greasy Git for nothing," said Ron.
"Hagrid!" hollered McGonagall.
Hagrid popped his head out of the window of his hut. "What can I do fer yeh, Professor?"
"One of your beasties has gotten loose!" Everyone at the table rose and charged toward the spot where Snape had just been seen, and nearly ran over Professor Flitwick in the process. They ignored McGonagall's instructions to stay put. They could hear branches breaking and the angry shrieking and snarling of an animal. They followed the sound and found an injured hippogriff. Snape was trying to corral it when it reared up and snapped off a tree branch with its wing. The branch dropped onto the top of Snape's head, and he collapsed to the ground unconscious. Lindsay was running so fast that she slid to a stop and fell on the ground next to Snape. She spied his abandoned wand and stuffed it into the side pocket of her boot. The injured hippogriff was just about to take a swipe at Lindsay's head when Hagrid appeared and forced it back. Everyone else had arrived by this time and set about confining the animal. "Professor Flitwick!" shouted Lindsay. "He has a head injury. He needs his head and neck braced before we can move him."
"I can do that," answered Flitwick as he focused himself. Instantly, a white brace appeared around Snape's head, neck, and chin. Lindsay's hand was on his arm. A faint blue light encircled Snape's body as he was raised off the ground.
"I can run faster than you, sir," said Lindsay.
"Go, girl, go!" shouted Flitwick.
Lindsay sprinted back to the castle with Snape's unconscious form at her side. The voices of six people shouting instructions to each other died away quickly as she dashed across the grounds. She entered the castle shouting "Make way! Make way!" not that it was necessary. Apparently Snape could clear a room even in an unconscious state. She quickly made it to the hospital wing shouting for Madame Pomfrey. Lindsay floated Snape's body over an empty bed and lowered him onto it as Pomfrey materialized at her side. "He has a head injury. We need to check for brain trauma, cranial fractures, vertebral compression fractures, and..."
"Out!" shouted Pomfrey in indignation.
"I'm a trained physician!" Lindsay shouted back.
"Out, I say!" screamed Pomfrey and shoved Lindsay out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
Lindsay paced angrily in the hall outside the medical ward for a few seconds before remembering the injured Hippogriff. She moved as quickly through the castle as she could, but it was difficult without Snape's presence to get everyone out of the way. She finally made her way to the outside grounds and bolted to join everyone she'd left only moments ago. The Hippogriff was contained now. Stray branches, logs, and stones of every size were held together magically to form temporary walls. The poor animal was badly injured and looked wild-eyed. Its left wing was broken and it had shards of glass sticking out of its side and chest. It was emaciated; all of its ribs were clearly visible. Lindsay wasn't sure if it was dirty or not, but its coloring appeared to be charcoal grey.
"He was flying erratically and hit one of the greenhouses. Pomona's making repairs right now," said Flitwick to Hagrid.
"He's in right sad shape, poor thing," said Hagrid. "Anyone know where he come from?"
"We thought he was one of yours," said McGonagall.
"Not mine," answered Hagrid, shaking his head. The more he looked at the poor animal, the angrier he became. "Never seen 'im before. None o' Hogwarts' herd 'as that dark color. It's very rare that."
"Is there anything we can do to help, Hagrid?" asked McGonagall.
"No, too many people will jus' frighten 'im. I'll need to win 'is trus' 'fore I can help 'im."
Hagrid shooed everyone away. Hermione went to collect her book from Hagrid's picnic table while Ron and Harry strode back to the castle behind Flitwick and McGonagall. "We should go and see if Pomona needs any help, Filius. Then we'll check in on Severus."
"They're both going to be in fine humor, Minerva."
Lindsay was the only one to linger. "Should I fetch your med bag, Hagrid?"
"I'd appreciate that," answered Hagrid. "But leave it on the ground 'ere and try not teh let 'im see yeh."
Linsay nodded and sprinted back to Hagrid's hut. His medical bag was sitting on the floor next to the table. Neither Fang nor Buckbeak roused when she entered to retrieve it. Hagrid's bag was a large brown leather satchel full of basic veterinary supplies, ointments, potions, and various types of anti-venom. Some of them he'd made himself and the more complicated ones had been made by Snape.
Lindsay strained to lift the bag and struggled with it all the back to Hagrid. She let out a low whistle as she approached the temporary stockade and Hagrid raised his hand to let her know that he heard her. She placed the bag on the ground then returned to the castle without another word. She avoided the hospital wing under the assumption that Snape would be asleep for at least a few hours. She settled on the lawn to watch Fred and George toss a bludger back and forth. Moments later, Hermione settled down next to her with yet another large book in her hands.
"You're gonna go blind, Hermione."
Hermione ignored the comment. "I stopped to see how Snape was on my way back. He's sitting up-"
"He's awake?" blurted Lindsay. "I thought for sure he had a bad concussion."
"He does. That's why Madam Pomfrey won't let him out until tomorrow morning. He's not at all happy about it."
"He's sitting up and talking with a concussion?"
Hermione looked exasperated, as she often did when explaining something to Ron, but she didn't get a chance to elaborate as Draco Malfoy sauntered up to them with Crabbe and Goyle in tow. Fred and George saw Malfoy approach the girls and seriously considered hitting him with the bludger before deciding to settle behind the girls, hovering on their brooms. They missed the beginning of the conversation, which is the only reason they didn't hex Malfoy on the spot.
"Well, look what we have here, boys. It's a squib and a mudblood."
Hermione's face reddened in anger, but she didn't get the chance to retort as Lindsay beat her to it.
"It's obvious that there's some tension between us, Draco-" began Lindsay as pleasantly as usual. Her placid tone made Hermione that much angrier.
"How dare you speak to me, you piece of filth!" Draco drew his wand and hexed Lindsay, thinking that a squib wouldn't be able to retaliate. The spell had barely been released from his wand and it was shot back at him. He flew into the air and landed, panting, on the lawn about ten feet away from where he'd been. Crabbe's and Goyle's tiny brains had difficulty processing what had happened and stood in confusion for several seconds before tending to the irate Malroy. He rose, slapping Crabbe's and Goyle's hands away, and shot a venomous glare at Fred and George before leaving. The twins laughed hysterically as the three of them ran away.
"I can't help but wonder what kind of home life that kid has. He mustn't have had very good role models," said Lindsay, still undaunted.
"That's exactly what George and I were thinking."
"It's like you read our minds," said George.
"What's that in your boot?" said Hermione pointing to Lindsay's boot.
"It's my wand," answered Lindsay without looking. "These boots have pockets on the sides. I love these things; they wear like iron. Great for hiking and working outdoors-"
"No," said Hermione in frustration. "That looks like Professor Snape's wand. Professor McGonagall was looking for it."
"Oh, you're right! I forgot I put it in there. I'd better give it back to him." Lindsay rose and headed for the hospital wing.
"What did you hit Malfoy with? I saw a flash of blue light, and I didn't recognize the spell."
"We didn't hit him with anything," answered Fred.
"I thought it was you," said George.
"It wasn't me," said Hermione. "My wand is still in my pocket."
"It couldn't have been Lindsay," said Fred.
"She's worse than Neville," said George.
Fred nudged George as he watched Crab and Goyle trying to keep up with a swift-running Malfoy. "We should've hit him with the bludger."
###
Lindsay reached the hospital wing just as Dumbledore was leaving it. "Hello, Professor." Dumbledore smiled, but didn't answer. He pointed to his mouth as he was obviously eating something, most likely something sweet. Lindsay nodded to him and entered the hospital wing. McGonagall was the first person she spotted. "I have Professor Snape's wand. Sorry, Professor, I stuffed it in my boot and forgot about it."
"That's a great relief, Miss Gray. Filius and I searched everywhere and couldn't find it. We thought the Hippogriff might have eaten it."
Snape was sitting up in bed. His arms were folded across his chest, and he looked to be in a particularly unpleasant mood. Lindsay was surprised to see that he had no bandage on his head. His hair and face were clean. Obviously Madam Pomfrey had washed it while he was unconscious, most likely so she could dress the wound on the top of his head. Lindsay stood next to his bed. "I bet you're happy to get this back." She pulled Snape's wand from her boot. The instant she touched it, a powerful jolt of energy ran through her hand. She stared at it in wonder.
"Is something wrong, Miss Gray?" said Snape.
"Yeah…um, I mean, no, of course not. Here you go, Professor." She handed the wand to him and patted his arm. "I've just remembered something, Professor. I'll be right back." She turned and darted out of the ward.
"No running, Miss Gray," shouted McGonagall. Snape groaned and put his hands to his head. "Oh, forgive me, Severus. I forgot myself."
Lindsay dashed up the hall and caught up with Professor Dumbledore. She pulled her wand out of her boot and held it up for him. "It's fake! You gave me a fake wand!"
"It's a paperweight," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
"I've been walking around with this thing for almost two months." Dumbledore grinned broadly at her. "It's not funny, Professor…well, alright it is. It's hilarious, in fact. But why-why would you deliberately make a fool of me?"
Dumbledore took her arm, and she stashed the fake wand back in her boot. "I didn't do it to make you look foolish. It did it because you're terrified of your abilities. A wand would amplify your magic, thereby increasing your fear. You must accept what you are-"
"You saw what I did. I got angry and destroyed an entire room. What if someone had been in there?"
"But no one was in there. You wouldn't have harmed anyone if there had been. Your concern for other's welfare is too great."
Lindsay shook her head. "I can't control it, Professor."
"You have much more control than you realize. Come up to my office with me. I want to show you something." They ascended the stone staircase to the Headmaster's office. He strode over to a cabinet, opened it, and with a wave of his hand, floated a stone bowl embossed with runes onto a table. "Do you know what this?" Lindsay shook her head. "This is called a Pensieve. It can store memories and allow them to be viewed. Now, I want you to recall Severus getting injured."
"Why?"
"Just, trust me. Is the memory clear in your mind? Good, now imagine yourself giving it to me." Dumbledore raised his wand to Lindsay's temple and drew out a long silvery thread and placed it in the Pensieve. "Now lean into the bowl. I assure you it's perfectly safe."
Lindsay did as Dumbledore instructed and found herself running alongside…herself. "This is weird," she said, but no one seemed to hear her. She followed her other self to the Hippogriff. She winced as she watched the branch smash onto Snape's head. The events replayed just as she remembered with one exception. She thought Flitwick had levitated Snape's body for her to transport, but she was seeing herself do it. Not only did she do it without dropping him, but she made it all the way to the hospital wing without assistance.
She stood up from the bowl, a shocked expression on her face. "I thought Professor Flitwick lifted him. I have a photographic memory, how could I not remember correctly?"
"Because you didn't want to," answered Dumbledore. "To accept that you can control your magic, means accepting that it's a part of you." He strode over to a small jar on his desk and brought it over to Lindsay. "Lemon drop?"
"Oh, yes, thank you. My parents traveled extensively and, obviously, so did I. I've visited huge modern cities, and ancient towns and cities full of equally ancient customs. I've been to some of the most remote places in the world and met all manner of people, but I never felt so out of place until I came here. This is a world within a world, and I'm lost in it. My sense of reality has been turned upside down."
"Magic is not a curse, Lindsay, but a great gift; a gift made all the greater because your magic is unique."
"Everything is so new, Professor. I feel like I'm in a dream, and I don't know what's real and what isn't."
"What makes you think that dreams aren't real?" countered Dumbledore. "Perception versus reality, it's a confusing deliberation at the best of times. As a musician, you have greater aural acuity than most people. Does that mean your musical perceptions are false just because others can't hear what you hear?"
"What if I do something wrong?"
"Then you'll try again until you've got it right, just like we all do. Trust yourself, Lindsay. It's high time you faced your true nature. And stop punishing your body. This grueling exercise routine of yours is unhealthy. You think if you exhaust yourself enough, you'll exhaust your magic too. I'm afraid it just doesn't work that way."
Lindsay looked shocked. "How did you know?"
"I'm a busybody," replied Dumbledore. He smiled at her, and his eyes began to twinkle again. "Now, go and visit Severus. I know you're eager to question Poppy."
"Right again, Professor," said Lindsay. "Thank you, sir."
Lindsay returned to the hospital wing feeling lighter, as though a great weight had been lifted from her. She entered to see McGonagall seated next to Snape and looking like she'd rather be elsewhere. Madam Pomfrey was trying to encourage him to eat. "Hello, all," said Lindsay. "Sorry I ran out on you, Professor Snape. Now that I'm back, I promise to give you my full attention."
"Lucky me."
"So how are you feeling, any dizziness or nausea?" Madam Pomfrey harrumphed as she stood next to McGonagall, carefully observing Lindsay.
"No, just a slight headache," answered Snape.
"Extraordinary," said Lindsay. "May I look at the cut on your head?"
Snape frowned and seemed unsure how to answer such an unexpected question. "I suppose," he said slowly.
Lindsay gently pushed his hair behind his ears and cupped his face in her hands. Snape stiffened, uncomfortable with the unfamiliar contact. She first looked into his eyes and muttered, "No dilation." His hair was parted centrally, right where the majority of the gash was located, which made spotting and treated it easier. There was a clear paste smeared liberally over it. There was very little swelling. The gash was closed and the skin was already well-knitted. "Was there any brain swelling, Madam Pomfrey?"
"I wouldn't be worth much if I couldn't handle something as simple as a swollen brain," answered an increasingly perturbed Pomfrey.
"Any vertebral damage?"
"Some minor compression fractures, but nothing I couldn't mend."
Lindsay released Snape's face and kissed the top of his head, well away from the injury. His eyes widened and he rubbed his hand over the spot as if it were itchy. "I'm in awe of your skill, Madam Pomfrey."
Poppy's vexation immediately cooled and she thanked Lindsay. "I did nothing special; any medi-witch could've done the same." She turned her attention to Snape. "You had better eat that, Severus, if you plan on leaving this ward by tomorrow."
"May I sit, ma'am, or were you two having a private conversation?"
"Please do join us, Miss Gray," answered McGongall, who appeared to be very relieved to have another person join them, especially one as loquacious as Lindsay.
Lindsay sat on Snape's other side and instinctively scooped up his hand so it rested between hers. He glowered at her, but didn't pull away. "You're probably wondering why I ran out of here like I did."
"Not really," answered Snape.
"I am a bit curious, Miss Gray," said McGonagall, shooting an acid look to Snape.
"When I took Professor Snape's wand out of my boot, I felt a jolt of energy from it. I hadn't noticed it earlier because of all the excitement." Both McGonagall and Snape appeared baffled. "My own wand doesn't do that." They still looked confused. "So I ran after the Headmaster and he informed me that my wand is actually a paperweight."
McGonagall blinked. "I'm sorry, Miss Gray, did you say that Professor Dumbledore gave you a paperweight?"
"Yes, I did."
After a moment of stunned silence, McGonagall's cheeks began to flush. "All this time!" she began. Snape winced. "No wonder you've been doing so poorly. I can't believe Albus would do such a thing to you. You're taking this awfully well, I must say."
"I was a bit angry at first. But I do love a good joke, even if I'm the butt of it."
"This is no laughing matter, Miss Gray. Albus' little lark has wasted both your time and ours. Not to mention how foolish you must've felt. Stop smirking, Severus!" McGonagall rose abruptly. "I'm going to have a talk with him. Severus, eat that! It's not poison, you know." She stormed out of the hospital wing slamming the door behind her.
"Yikes, I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of that," said Lindsay. She pulled Snape's tray of food over the bed where she could get a better look at it. Her other hand still held his. "Let's see what you've got here. That looks tasty," she said as she picked up a fork. "Do you want some help?"
Snape yanked the fork from her hand and dislodged his other hand from her grasp. "I do not," he growled. "I'm quite capable of feeding myself."
"All right, Professor," said Lindsay, who sounded like she was placating a petulant child.
Madam Pomfrey returned and was very pleased to see that Snape had begun eating. "Do you need anything, Severus? No? I'll be back with something to help you sleep when you're finished. He'll be needing some rest, Miss Gray…."
"Yes, ma'am," replied Lindsay and rose to leave. She leaned in to kiss Snape's forehead, but he flinched away. She smiled and kissed the tips of two fingers and touched his shoulder with them. He looked at her as though she'd lost her mind. "Pleasant dreams, Professor."
###
McGonagall stormed up to the Headmaster's office, her anger growing by the second. Dumbledore lowered his magazine to greet her. "Minerva, what a pleasant-"
"How could you, Albus?" she shouted.
"Lemon drop?"
"No, I don't want a blasted lemon drop! A fake wand, how could you do that to the poor girl? You made her look like a fool!"
"Minerva-"
"Weeks! For weeks she's been trying to use a paperweight as a wand! No wonder her spell-casting has been so disastrous! If she'd been a matriculated student, she'd have failed half of her classes! Wait till Filius hears about this! If I didn't know better, I'd swear you were one of the Weasley twins!"
"Minerva, are you quite finished? It was for her own good. I didn't do it to embarrass the girl."
"What possible good could come from a juvenile prank like that?"
"You saw how she was when we met her. She was terrified of magic. A real wand would've only frightened her more."
"We are experienced instructors, Albus," said Minerva indignantly. "We could've helped her through it."
Dumbledore shook his head. "It wouldn't have worked. She'd have given up and gone home the first time she used her wand. The girl's immersed in a world where magic is expected, completely the opposite of how she's been brought up. She feels uncomfortable and out of place. A need to please others is a great part of her character, so it was important for her to be here long enough to form attachments. She respects you, and she'll want to prove herself to you. It was a harsh lesson for her, I admit, but it was a necessary one. I think we'll be seeing great improvements in her."
###
The jokes about Snape's clean hair and overnight stay in the hospital wing were endless: he lost a fight with an enchanted shampoo bottle; he'd had his first shower and got sick; he accidentally fell into a large soapy cauldron, and on and on they went. Snape must've been aware of them because, according to Neville, he was even meaner and more vindictive than usual. Students from all of the houses, except Slytherin, saw a drastic rise in detentions.
There was a crowd of Gryffindors in varying years in Lindsay's rooms. Her door was open. Students were coming and going, helping themselves to whatever edibles that Ron had left in her kitchenette. The twins had somehow found a crate of butterbeer. Lindsay preferred not to ask them how they'd come by it. She sat in her desk chair with her guitar in her lap, strumming it softly. It seemed like every kid that came in had a new Snape joke. "I don't want to be a stick-in-the-mud, guys, but it's not funny to ridicule someone behind his back. He doesn't have the chance to defend himself. " All heads in her near vicinity turned in her direction, a slight feeling of tension rose in the air.
"You're not actually defending The Greasy Git, are you?" asked Fred. He'd transfigured Lindsay's violin into a ukulele and was presently strumming it.
"I suspect a curse," said George. He rose with his wand drawn and began to scan Lindsay with it, trying to detect dark magic.
"I haven't been cursed, George."
"Cursed people always deny being cursed," replied George. "Can't find anything, Fred."
"Hmm, this is puzzling," said Fred.
"Oh, stop it, you two. I'm fine. It's just that I value honesty. If I have a problem with someone, I like to discuss it with him and get it settled rather than talk behind his back."
"We'd say it to his face, but our instinct for self-preservation is too great," remarked George.
"We're not being dishonest," explained Fred. "Since The Git abuses his authority as a teacher, we feel no guilt whatsoever in ridiculing him behind his back. Tit for tat, right George?"
"Right, Fred."
"I hate to say this, but you two can be really cruel sometimes…wait a second," said Lindsay, looking around the room. "Have you seen Neville?"
"Nope," replied the twins.
Lindsay rose, placed her guitar in her vacated chair and headed for the common room. No one there had seen Neville either. "I bet he forgot the password again," muttered Lindsay. She moved Sir Cadogan out of the way to find a very flustered Neville standing in the hall trying to recite a rhyme. He wasted no time getting into the common room before any of the teachers caught him.
"I tried to put the password in a rhyme like you told me," said Neville, "but Sir Cadogan kept shouting at me and I got confused."
"Poor Neville," said Lindsay as she gave him a quick hug. "We'll find something that works for you."
"I think I should just write the passwords down from now on. I'm going to turn in. Good Night, Lindsay."
Loud applause erupted from Lindsay's rooms. "Lindsay, you're missing it," shouted Jackson, a sixth year boy who'd taken quite a shine to Lindsay. "George transfigured your guitar into a three-and-a-half string lute. He and Fred are performing a song they wrote."
"There's no such thing as a three-and-a-half string lute," replied Lindsay.
"There is now."