Sunday, 29 August 1993
Hogwarts Express
The last two weeks of break passed phenomenally quickly. Thankfully, Mary was still excused from attending the horrible weekly tea parties. Her excuse was the stress of the lingering threat posed by Sirius Black, but really she just didn't want to go. Lessons resumed (magic lessons being dead boring, as she was reduced to practicing left-handed wand-movements and the simplest of charms and jinxes ad nauseam) and there were a flurry of owls and appointments which led to a somewhat erratic schedule. The dicta-quill, Mary decided, was worth every knut. Dictating letters and essays was far faster than writing them by hand, even if she did have to spend a whole day attuning it to her speech patterns.
On the news front, Lilian had little to report, aside from her own boredom and longing for school to resume. Hermione, in contrast, was a wealth of information. She had overheard her parents saying that Professor McGonagall had mentioned something about taking over Mary's muggle guardianship, which was terribly exciting. Mary could only assume that they hadn't said anything to her about it because she was still being punished for her latest misadventure. She hoped they would do it. The Grangers would be much better guardians than the Dursleys.
There was bad news as well: The Ministry was refusing to reinstate Hermione's special permission to use magic at home. She was less upset about this than she could have been, since the exemption was only for spells up to Grade 3, and she wouldn't have wanted to practice them much longer anyway, but it was the principal of the thing. They had, at least, officially removed the count of underage magic from Hermione's record, so that she was no longer in danger of official punishment if she slipped up and used her wand over the summer. Apparently she had been looking for books on freeform magic, anyway, because she wanted to be able to do magic undetectably. Emma had begun writing letters to Bill Weasley asking about the types of wards that would be necessary to placate the ministry's security.
Hermione also informed Mary that she was starting a Muggleborn and Muggle-raised students group, and Mary had to join. Mary agreed, though she wasn't sure exactly what such a group would do, aside, perhaps, from answering questions from younger students about how to get along in the magical world. She would have done that anyway, and wondered if her membership in the group would increase or decrease its popularity, given that her fame as the Girl Who Lived had now been somewhat tarnished by the title Heir of Slytherin. At Catherine's direction, she had spent a few days at the beginning of the summer skimming through old Prophets to get a feel for her public reputation, and the reviews were mixed to say the least.
Finally, the older girl reported that she had found a wealth of information on magical tattooing, but none of it was anything like the process Mary had described, resulting in the Libra symbol over her breastbone. The Ravenclaw had moved on to looking at marks created through rituals, but everything she found was either very confusing or incredibly vague, with references to texts which the assistants at Flourish and Blotts informed her were restricted, available only in German, or out of print. Needless to say, it was very slow going.
On the appointment side of things, Mary was taken to St. Mungo's for a thirteenth-year check-up (where she was pronounced healthy by the Healer, though she did look a bit askance at the scars Mary had accumulated in the past two years and the muggle cast); an oculist, who updated the prescription on Mary's glasses and informed her that no, she could not just use magic to fix her eyes, at least not until they stopped growing worse, which they likely would in time; and to visit Gerald Fulton, her Office of Child Welfare Caseworker. She hadn't been to see him in over a year, but she was able to assure him that (despite her broken arm) she was as happy and healthy as could be expected, and she had no problem with her current magical guardian. Professor McGonagall might be a bit distant and strict, but there was no one she would choose as her guardian instead (the only person she might consider would be Snape, and that would make their already complicated relationship even worse).
The last weekend before school started, Catherine took Mary back to Peaseblossom and Puck's to be fitted for formal robes. These, she said, were the traditional thirteenth birthday gift from the family, which Mary should have received, but hadn't, in the excitement surrounding Black's escape, the rituals, and Mary's subsequent attempt to run away. Mary was quite pleased to receive a birthday gift from the Urquharts and Aunt Minnie. If she had given it any thought at all in the chaotic whirl of emotions that had surrounded her birthday, she might have felt a bit slighted at the fact that they hadn't given her one, but in truth, she had completely ignored it. She supposed, in hindsight, that two years wasn't long enough to be used to people giving her gifts.
The hobs were not altogether pleased to see Mary and her cast again so soon, but they did not refuse the commission. By the end of the fitting, Mary almost wished they had. The outfit included not only stockings, bloomers, a skirt, an undershirt, an underrobe, an overrobe, and a very pretty, entirely ornamental belt, but an actual corset made with dragon-bone, which was worn between the loose undershirt and the fitted underrobe, and forced Mary into an uncomfortably upright posture at all times.
It did, she admitted, give her a more womanly figure, but between the corset and the spindly high heels Catherine transfigured to go with the robes, Mary could hardly walk. Catherine said sardonically that that was rather the point. It was an outfit for seeing and being seen, and accordingly looked very dramatic: the sheer, silvery over-robe forming shifting patterns over the cloudy, dappled grey of the underrobe, the bright, spring green of the skirt peeking out from the hem of the robes as she moved, and traced in leafy embroidery at the cuffs and collar. The older girl declared it perfect, and insisted that now Mary would have to attend the January session of the Wizengamot, just to show it off.
After the fitting was completed, Mary was taken to a witches' salon to have what Catherine referred to as 'that horrible muggle haircut' reversed. Mary herself didn't think the haircut was so bad (if she had hated it, it surely would have grown out by now). It was messy, but still long enough that she could pull it into a ponytail. The stylist, however, somehow coaxed her hair into growing out long enough that the curls stretched into waves, and rinsed it in a potion to restore its natural color, which Mary had to admit looked better.
Before Mary knew it, the last Sunday in August was upon them, and it was time to catch the Hogwarts express. As she had the year before, Mary floo'd to the platform, where Catherine un-shrank her trunk and bid her a fond (albeit hasty) farewell. Eirene, the owl, was sent on ahead, and her cage stowed in Mary's luggage. Hermione had gotten a particularly bad portkey time – eight-thirty – and rather than drive up to London ridiculously early for the second time in three weeks, Emma and Dan had let her port' directly from Kent. They sent their love to Mary and greetings to Lilian, and hoped to see the girls over the winter hols. The three girls together managed to manhandle their trunks into a compartment (Lilian and Hermione did most of the lifting, while Mary, the shortest and skinniest of the three, 'supervised') and the Weasley twins showed up just after the nick of time offering to help.
Hermione did let them pull her trunk down and retrieve the potions ingredients she had bought for them before returning the trunk easily to its luggage rack.
"Thanks, Hermione," one of the boys began.
"Mum would never let us out of her sight long enough to get any of this stuff," his brother finished.
"So you've said," Hermione replied with a grin. "Do I even want to know what you're planning?"
"Dunno?" "Do you?" "It's nothing bad." "R and D." "We'll show you this weekend if you like."
The Ravenclaw looked suspicious, but her curiosity had been piqued. "Yeah, alright. I'll meet you in the usual place?"
"Third floor," one of them confirmed. Both nodded. "Righto, we're off to bother Ronniekins, then." "Ta, lovelies!"
"Lovelies?" Lilian echoed, staring after the retreating twins. "Since when do the Weasleys flirt?"
"Since last year," Hermione said, slightly pink.
"Before or after Catgirl?" Mary asked, and dodged Hermione's slap at her shoulder. "Too slow! What happened to cats having good reflexes?"
"I'm ignoring you," the older girl informed her.
"Aww, you're no fun," Lilian complained.
"Bet that's the real reason she's still speaking to them," Mary said derisively.
Hermione's only response was a rude hand gesture to the pair of them, as she retreated into the same book she had been reading since she had port'ed in that morning.
"C'mon, Lils, let's see if we can find Remus. He said he'd be taking the train with us this year."
"Why?" the older Slytherin asked, following Mary out of their compartment and down the train.
Mary rolled her eyes. "Security. Supposedly the Headmaster thinks the train might be attacked."
"Merlin, can you say paranoid?"
"I know, right?"
Remus was finally located in the last compartment of the train. He appeared to be sleeping.
"Shabby sort of bloke, isn't he?" Lilian whispered, taking in his several-times-mended casual robes and unkempt hair. Mary stepped on her toe. "Hey!"
"That was rude."
"He's asleep."
"Do you think we should wake him?"
"I dunno. You're the one who knows him. Do you think he'd want to talk to us, or keep sleeping?"
"I don't know. It's not like I live with him. You don't exactly write letters in bed, do you?"
"Maybe we should just come back later."
"Yeah, alright, I guess," Mary agreed, just as Remus cracked open one light brown eye.
"No need, pup, I'm up," he said, his voice low and grumbly with sleep.
"Hi, Remus! We can let you sleep for a while if you want."
"Nah, 's alright. I'll have a nap later." The man stood and stretched.
Mary suddenly noticed how worn and ill he looked. "Are you alright?"
"Bit under the weather. Who's this?" He changed the subject. "The Lilian you're always writing about?"
"Yeah, Lilian Moon. Lilian, meet Remus Lupin, the Last Marauder and I guess Professor, now. I suppose I'll have to get used to calling you Professor Lupin."
"Pleasure, Miss Moon," Remus replied, bowing correctly over Lilian's hand as she extended it. "And yes, it's Professor Lupin in public, I'm afraid."
"Professor Lupin," Lilian completed the greeting.
"Well, you can still come sit with us, right?" Mary asked excitedly. "We're about halfway up."
Remus hesitated, but eventually said yes, and grabbed his suitcase to follow them back. Like everything else he owned, it was rather battered and worn, and in fact was held together with a large amount of carefully knotted string.
Hermione looked up when they returned to the compartment, her eyes flicking over the new arrival with interest. "I thought this was your first year as a professor," she said, without introduction.
"It is," Remus replied, clearly confused. "Would you be Hermione?"
"Yes, yes, Hermione Granger, first of her name," she said, waving away the proprieties. "And you're Remus Lupin, our new Defense professor. But it's on your case?"
Remus chuckled. "Oh, that."
Mary looked down to see 'Professor RJ Lupin' stamped in peeling letters across a corner of the case. "Do you sometimes find Hermione a bit scary?" she muttered to Lilian.
"Only almost all the time," the girl responded, just as Remus explained, "It was a gift from my friends for graduation. They always called me the professor of our group, you see."
Hermione nodded, clearly more interested in returning to her book than in continuing small talk, though this was not exactly unusual.
Remus seemed to see it, too, because he asked politely what she was reading.
"Flanders' treatise on extra-planar physics. It's quite fascinating."
No one else seemed to think so, as an awkward silence developed after Remus' noises of polite disinterest. "Why?" Mary asked. The title alone made her head hurt. Extra-planar physics, really?
"It's one of the only books on the mechanics of ritual magic I could find," Hermione frowned at her book. "And I'm beginning to think that Flanders was either insane, or high on potions fumes or something. It's interesting, but completely mad."
"Who's completely mad?" A dreamy voice floated into the compartment, followed by, "Oi! Luna! What'd you stop for?"
"I've found your compartment," Luna replied calmly, poking her head inside. "Hello, Hermione Jean. Who's completely mad?"
"Petrie Flanders." Hermione held up the book.
"Oh, no, he's sane, it's just reality that's mad. Are you our new Defense Professor?" she asked, but before Remus could answer, Ginny's voice came in from the corridor again.
"Luna, if this is our compartment, let me in."
"Sorry, lovely to meet you, sir, but Ginevra Phyllis is clearly impatient today," she disappeared from the doorway, and Mary heard her say, "It's not my compartment, it's yours. You really do need to learn to listen more closely, Ginevra."
"How many times have I told you to call me Ginny? And what do you mean it's not your compartment?" Her head appeared around the door. "Hi, guys!"
"Two-hundred and seventy-six. And I'm going to find Aerin Mae. Farewell."
Ginny rolled her eyes expressively at this. "Bye, Luna," she called, and then added as they heard the sound of her humming retreating down the train, "I've known her as long as I can remember, and she still drives me batty. Mind if I join you?"
Ginny was welcomed warmly, and struck up a conversation with Hermione and Lilian about their respective summers and her new wand, which was apparently nothing like her old wand, while Mary caught Remus up on everything that had happened since her birthday. She had decided that it was really all better explained in person, rather than by letter.
Shortly after the train began its journey north, Fred and George appeared again, looking for their sister for no apparent reason. Mary introduced them to Remus, without thinking, as the Last Marauder, and after a hurried, whispered conference wherein it was determined that Remus was, in fact, one of the same Marauders who had created the twins' favorite artefact, they nearly fell over themselves, fawning over the ageing former prankster and begging for stories of his misspent youth. They sat on the floor at his feet as he regaled them with tales of mischief and mayhem, roaring with laughter as he described James Potter's courtship of Lily Evans (the course of whose true love really did not run smoothly) and the Prank War of '74. These stories carried them over until lunch, when the boys had to return to their compartment for their sandwiches, and Remus looked as though he was desperately in need of a nap, no matter how fun and entertaining it might be to recount Professor McGonagall's reaction to her robes being switched with a tartan dressing gown in the middle of his seventh-year welcome feast.
"During the sorting, Gred!"
"The balls, Forge!"
"We have to top that, Gred!"
"We can only dream…" 'Gred' trailed off as they headed down the corridor.
"Do… do you think I should have told them we got detention for a month for that?" Remus choked out between his own laughter.
Hermione, who had appeared to be paying no attention at all, absorbed in her mad metaphysics book, answered quite suddenly, "I shouldn't think it would make much of a difference. Snape –" ("Professor Snape," the Slytherins chorused.) "Yes, him. He's already given us all detention for the next three months of Saturdays, give or take a bit. At their rate, they'll be booked up until they graduate by the end of this year."
Ginny went pale, presumably at the thought of Fred and George unrestrained by the threat of additional detentions. Mary, on the other hand, went pale at the look on Remus' face as he asked, "What did you do?"
"We're, erm… not allowed to say," she squeaked.
"Miss Potter, I'm asking as your professor," Remus raised a tired eyebrow.
"No, really, I can't say. You'd have to ask Snape."
Remus gave Mary a dubious look at this, but thankfully Hermione changed the subject. "Why do you get to call him Just Snape when you correct me every time?!"
"Because he likes me more than he likes you," Mary deadpanned, and the rest of the compartment burst into laughter.
"Okay, stop, stop," Remus begged. "You can't be seriously telling me that Severus Snape invited a Potter to be informal with him."
Mary nodded. "But I'm pretty sure he thinks of me as a bastard Evans, so, you know…"
"He's still got a crush on Lils after all these years? Merlin's balls!" Then, apparently realizing that he was supposed to be a professor, he corrected himself: "Erm, sorry. Beard." All of the girls ignored this. It wasn't as though they never swore amongst themselves. Mary and Lilian in particular had picked up bad habits from the Quidditch team.
"He insists it's more of a brotherly affection."
"When have you been talking to Snape about his feelings?" Lilian asked, shocked.
"She can't have done," Ginny responded. "He hasn't got any."
"Hmmm, yes, I'm making it all up," Mary lied, glad for the excuse to avoid Lilian's question. The brassy Slytherin narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but Mary just gave her best too-innocent smile, and she let it go. They would talk about it later.
Sunday, 29 August 1993 (Afternoon)
Hogwarts Express
After their lunches were finished, Mary, Lilian and Ginny decided to visit other acquaintances. Hermione waved absently as they left. The first compartment of relatively friendly faces they ambled across was the majority of the Slytherin Quidditch team, who were in the midst of a debate about the Irish Quidditch team's Firebolts, which all of the girls joined eagerly. Lilian was on Flint's side, arguing that a matched set of brooms was best for a chaser squad, while Mary joined the beaters in defending different brooms for different player classes. Everyone knew Comets were better than the Nimbus for chasers, but a seeker needed more maneuverability. Ginny, surprisingly, supported Bole in his argument that if a new broom outperformed the top models in every class – speed, maneuverability, and braking (which was what the Firebolt claimed), there was no reason not to have everyone fly the same broom.
When it became clear that Flint wasn't going to win the debate, he changed the subject. "What the fuck happened to your arm, Potter?"
Mary blushed. "I did a barrel roll into a tree-branch a few weeks back."
"So, what is that thing?"
"It's a cast," she said blankly. "You know, muggle healers use them for broken bones?"
And then, of course, she had to explain the whole adventure, including how she, their madcap daredevil, had crashed into a tree, of all things, why she had been taken to a muggle hospital, and why her arm hadn't been healed properly as soon as she was rescued. She was very red by the end of it, and made a hasty get-away, followed by the guffaws of the older boys.
Most of the Gryffindor Quidditch team (excepting Thorpe and Wood), plus Lee Jordan, were only a few cars down, discussing their chances of finding a really good seeker this year. Thorpe wasn't bad, but he was, in Mary's opinion (and apparently that of his teammates) rather average. The Slytherins lost Ginny there as she tried to convince her brothers it wasn't completely mad for her to try out.
Aerin and Luna were three compartments down, but Aerin was still being short with Mary, so they moved on relatively quickly, Lilian saying loudly as they went not to worry about her, she was just in a snit because it was that time of the month. There might have been some truth to the accusation, or else Lilian had been taunting her sister an awful lot this summer, because Aerin had followed them into the corridor with a shriek and sent a Bat Bogey Hex at her. Lilian blocked it easily before blowing her sister a kiss. "Love you, too, sis!"
"Piss. Off. Lilian." Aerin had answered coldly. Lilian refused to explain what was going on between them. Mary made a mental note to ask her about it when Lilian finally cornered her about the Snape thing.
They found the Slytherin pranksters, fifth-years, now, a few compartments down. Morgana and Perry were snuggling on one of the benches, clearly together, and Adrian had been joined by a girl Mary vaguely recognized from Quidditch trials the previous year. He introduced her as Lindsay Turner, a fourth year and his girlfriend. He looked very proud at this, and no one had the heart to point out that Turner rolled her eyes at the title.
Mary once again had to explain what had happened to her arm and why it hadn't been healed properly. Like everyone else, the pranksters seemed to agree that it was a fair punishment. "Too reckless by half," was Perry's comment. Lilian had laughed her arse off at the Heir of Slytherin getting called a Gryffindor, while Mary just narrowed her eyes threateningly at the Wilkes boy. Morgana, perhaps fearing for her boyfriend's safety, changed the subject.
"So how was the rest of your summer?" she asked with a smirk.
"Oh, well, aside from Sirius Black escaping, dealing with the Accidental Magic Office, and the bloody Weasley twins acting like we're still friends? It was alright," she shrugged. "My birthday ritual was really amazing."
This statement caused an uproar among the Slytherins, mostly asking why she had been dealing with the Accidental Magic Office, though Lindsay asked why she was ever friends with the Weasleys in the first place. They all knew about the Sirius Black situation already – the pureblood gossip grapevine was a highly effective intelligence network.
Mary, just to punish Wilkes for implying she had been acting Gryffindorishly, and the rest of them for laughing at her broken arm, chose to address the fourth-year instead of the others. "Because you can't just be allies with Gryffindors," she said simply, which garnered her appreciative smirks. "And now they're not catching my hints at all that I'm not pleased with them."
"What have you done?" Morgana asked.
"Mostly just ignored them and reverted to icy politeness."
"Well there's your problem," Adrian chuckled.
"What?"
"You're still being polite! They're Gryffindors and Weasleys. Subtlety is not in their vocabulary. They're not going to get it that you don't want them around if you don't actually push them away, rude as it most definitely would be," he elaborated.
Mary sighed. She had no practice being rude to people. Normally she tried to get them to stick around, not drive them off. Turner, apparently realizing that Mary didn't want to talk about it, asked the third-years if they were excited about Snape's extra class.
Mary and Lilian stared at her with complete incomprehension. She smirked. "I can't believe Moon didn't tell you!"
"Tell us what?" Lilian asked.
"Oh, well, now I'm not going to ruin the surprise if no one else has." The fifth-years sniggered. Mary groaned.
"Fine, then, be that way," Lilian said, affecting boredom. "We're bound to find out eventually."
"Yep!" Turner said brightly. Lilian's false disinterest clearly would not work on her.
"Let's go, Liz," she said lightly, "I think there are still others we were hoping to see, yes?"
Mary nodded. "We haven't seen any of our year yet, after all."
And with that they slipped out of the compartment, now with the goal of finding anyone who knew anything about their new class and what it might entail.
Unfortunately, they didn't encounter any likely candidates. They did find two compartments full of firsties. Lilian informed them that their House was determined by a spelling test, and Mary told them that it was determined by the methods they used to get through an obstacle course.
They ran into Blaise, Daphne, and Theo, along with Zacharias Smith and Fay Dunbar near the back quarter of the train. They were running a book on which new students would be sorted into which house. Mary put a galleon on Dave Rhees to be in Slytherin, while Lilian bet that he would be in Ravenclaw, because muggleborns never went to Slytherin. Mary didn't feel she knew any of the others well enough to say, but Lilian put another galleon on each of the Professor's Ducklings for Hufflepuff. Mary hoped they wouldn't end up there: the girls had seemed so overwhelmed by the shopping trip that she couldn't imagine how they'd handle living with the Hufflepuffs. The girls handed over their money and agreed to sit with the other Slytherins at dinner to catch up on their summers before continuing down the train so as not to block the corridor.
The remaining members of their year had a compartment to themselves just a few places down, but since all six of them were present, and unlikely to budge up so that they could sit, they stayed only long enough to exchange formal pleasantries before slipping away. Mary, for one, was glad that she wouldn't have to explain her flying accident to Malfoy, who was sure to mock her about it forever, anyway, once the rest of the team filled him in.
In the very last compartment, formerly occupied by Remus, they found Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom with their Gryffindor yearmates, animatedly discussing the new Care of Magical Creatures textbook. Neville, apparently against Ron's recommendation, had decided to take Ancient Runes rather than Care of Magical Creatures. He was very glad he did when he saw the book Ron pulled from his trunk, still tied shut with the twine from the bookstore.
"I'm telling you, Ron," Neville was saying, "I don't care if it's supposed to be an easy O, any class with a book that tries to eat you is one I'm glad I'm not in."
"Oh, come off it Nev! I give it three weeks of Runes until you're begging to switch!"
"Not likely!"
"Have you guys heard who the new prof is?" Lilian asked, leaning on the half-open door.
Neville shook his head, while Ron said, "Excuse me, did anyone ask you?"
Lilian shook her head sarcastically slowly, and rolled her eyes at Mary, who was leaning on the wall, out of sight of all the boys but Neville. "No," she drawled, "I asked you…"
"Like we'd tell you anything, you slimy snake!"
"What the hell is your problem, Weasley?" she asked, "I was just making conversation."
"My problem is you, and all your slimy friends. You know it was Malfoy's dad who got my sister possessed last year, and you still go around making bloody nice with him!"
This was news to Mary, and she thought it probably was to Lilian as well, though the older girl hid her surprise. "Draco Malfoy is not his father," she remarked lightly. "And I'm here 'making nice,' as you put it, with you, even though two of your brothers kidnapped my best friend, aren't I? Civility is a virtue."
"Is it now?" a broad, Irish accent answered. Seamus Finnegan, Mary thought.
"Well, in some circles," Lilian smirked.
"Piss off, Moon!" Weasley said, sounding very flustered at the thinly veiled insult.
"Fine, fine, I can tell where I'm not wanted. Gryffindors," she said, with a jaunty false salute. The girls lurked in the corridor long enough to hear Dean Thomas say, "I thought you said Potter was alright."
"Yeah, well, that's what Ginny says, but her memory's been messed with. No one really knows what happened down there. And even if she wasn't the Heir, they're still stuck-up bitches, her and Moon both."
Longbottom cleared his throat timidly and changed the subject: "Have you heard anything about a new Professor?"
"Nah," Finnegan answered. "I heard Kettleburn was retiring, but not who they've got to replace him."
At that Mary and Lilian finally headed back up the corridor toward their own compartment.
"Stuck up bitches, are we?" Lilian repeated irritably.
"Well," Mary said, considering the statement, "given that he's come off the worse in every single interaction I've ever had with him, and you snark at him every chance you get, and neither one of us would touch him with a ten-foot broom because he's such a classless arse, I'm going to go with yes… but in a good way."
Lilian was still laughing at that proclamation when they re-entered their compartment, and was immediately shushed by Hermione.
"Professor Lupin's sleeping," she whispered, by way of explanation. "What's so funny?"
Sunday, 29 August 1993 (Evening)
Hogwarts Express
Lilian recounted their adventures up and down the train, forcing the Ravenclaw to crack several smiles, as Mary stared blankly at a window, watching their reflections. They had to be close to the castle, now. The rain which had started unnoticeably hours before was now pelting hard against the glass, and the lanterns had been activated along the luggage racks. It seemed much later than Mary knew it really was, and she was beginning to think that Hermione, curled up with her book, had the right idea.
Suddenly, the train started to slow down.
"We can't be there yet," Hermione said, looking at her watch.
"Well, we've never stopped anywhere but Hogsmeade before," Lilian pointed out. They were no longer bothering to keep their voices down, but Remus slept on, undisturbed.
The noises of the train fell away, and the wind and rain seemed to become correspondingly louder. Lilian stuck her head out the door, and reported that there was nothing obviously wrong, just in time for the train to come to a full stop with a jolt, sending her careening into Hermione's lap, and luggage throughout the train out of its racks with distant bangs and thuds.
"Oof!"
"Sorry, Jeanie!"
"Budge off, Lili!"
"I'm trying!"
The lights went out with a small pop.
"Ouch! Lili, that was my hair! Get off!"
"Your hair is everywhere! Why don't you ever put it up?!"
There was a thump as Hermione pushed Lilian to the floor – or at least that's what Mary thought had happened from the other Slytherin's sudden swearing. She wasn't paying too much attention, instead pressing her face to the glass, peering into the dark.
"Lumos!" Lilian muttered, still sitting on the floor. "What the bloody hell is going on?"
"How the bloody hell should we know?" Hermione answered, lighting her own wand.
"Remus? Remus, wake up!" Mary demanded, prodding the man hard in the shoulder. He grabbed her wrist instinctively, nearly growling at her until he realized where he was and who he was holding in place.
"Sorry, Mary," he said, wandlessly conjuring a handful of fire and moving to the door. It slid open slowly just as he reached it, revealing a towering, cloaked figure, its face completely hidden beneath its hood. It reached out a glistening, grayish, slimy-looking, scabbed hand toward the wizard, who stepped back, though he kept himself between the thing and the girls.
The thing – it couldn't be human, not with a hand like that – drew a deep, rattling breath, and Mary suddenly realized she was cold… so cold. It felt like there was ice inside her skin, stabbing deep, into her very heart.
Mary's eyes rolled up. She was blind! Blind and freezing, drowning in cold. There was a rushing like water in her ears, and she was being dragged down, roaring growing ever louder.
Then, from far away, she heard screaming, terrible, terrified, pleading screams. She wanted to help whomever it was, and tried to move her arms, but she couldn't… a thick, white fog was swirling around her, inside her –
"Liz! Elizabeth! Are you alright?"
Mary opened her eyes to find that there were lanterns above her and the floor was shaking – the train was moving again, and she was somehow lying on the floor. Her friends were kneeling next to her, and Remus was watching as he rummaged around for something in his much-larger-on-the-inside suitcase.
Mary felt very sick. There was cold sweat on her face when she reached up to adjust her glasses. Lilian and Hermione helped her back up to a bench, laying her gently on her side.
"Are you alright?" Lilian repeated.
"Ugh, no," Mary groaned. "What happened? What was that thing? Who was screaming?"
"No one screamed," Hermione said, answering the easiest question first.
"Sure it wasn't Parseltongue?" Lilian asked.
"Yeah, no, it was a woman. A human woman, she was pleading with someone not to kill someone…"
Mary's recollection was interrupted by a loud snap. Remus was now breaking an enormous slab of chocolate into pieces. He passed them around, urging the girls to eat it.
"What was that thing?" Mary asked again, popping a bit of chocolate into her mouth rather half-heartedly. A warm sensation began to spread through her body, and she ventured a bit more.
"A dementor," Remus said quietly. The girls stared at him. Mary, for one, was in shock. Surely the dementors were supposed to stay at Azkaban! "Eat your chocolate," he repeated. "I need to go talk to the driver." And with that he vanished into the corridor.
"What… what happened?" Mary asked, swallowing hard. Obviously the dementor had made her relive her worst memory, and she had a sneaking suspicion as to what that memory was, but she had no idea what had been going on outside her head.
"Well…" Hermione began hesitantly, but grew more confident as she explained, "That thing, the dementor, stood there and looked around – I mean, I think it did, I couldn't see its face – and I got all cold, and I remembered, well, terrible things – Tom, and Slytherin-me – and you, you…"
"You just slumped to the floor," Lilian provided. "Fainted, or something. And then you went stiff and started, like, twitching. It was scary."
"And then Professor Lupin realized what was happening and told the thing to sod off – that none of us was hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks – but it didn't go, so he shot some silvery spell at it, and then it finally glided away."
Mary shivered. "I'm never going to prison," she said, drawing a small laugh from Lilian, and a concerned look from Hermione. She didn't mind, as long as it drew attention away from the fact that she had gone all to pieces, and they hadn't. She continued to nibble her chocolate as Lilian explained exactly what dementors did, a detail which had not come up in their many discussions of Sirius Black's escape.
Hermione was appalled. "So that's what the Prophet was talking about – humane treatment of prisoners," she said with a shudder. "Good God, it felt like I'd never be happy again!"
"We'll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes," Remus said, returning from the front of the train. "Better?" he asked, looking around to see that the girls were still working on their chocolate.
They nodded silently, none apparently feeling very talkative anymore. When they finally arrived at the platform, there was a greater rush than usual to get off the train, despite the icy rain. The fresh air helped almost as much as the chocolate had. Mary watched the terrified firsties make their way to Hagrid, adding another debit to Sirius Black's account for ruining their first trip to Hogwarts.
The girls pushed their way through the crowd, and managed to make it into the first round of carriages up to the castle, joined at the last second by Ginny, who grabbed Hermione's hand tightly and refused to let go. Mary would have been willing to bet that Ginny's worst memory was even worse than hers – at least she had only been a year old, and hadn't known what was happening. Hermione murmured soothing words in the younger girl's ear, holding her close and petting her hair until she stopped shaking.
Mary deliberately stopped listening after she caught the words 'Tom' and 'stronger than him.' She very much did not want to think of him forcing her youngest friend to attack people, controlling her like a puppet and driving her to attempt suicide at the age of eleven. Yes, she decided, Ginny's worst memories were probably much worse than hers, and thanks to Snape's Inception Charm, Hermione shared them. She wondered what they had seen, but not enough to ask.
Lilian didn't look much better, her face very, very pale, even now. Mary squeezed her hand tightly, wondering if she had seen the memory of finding out her little brother had died, or if there was something even worse in her past that Mary didn't know about.
She knew her thoughts were morbid, but she couldn't seem to stop them. They grew stronger and as they approached the gates of the castle, a wave of cold sickness engulfing her once again as their carriage passed between two dementors standing, like guards, on either side of it. Mary leaned back into the seat cushions and closed her eyes as Lilian crushed her hand, and Hermione drew Ginny closer, so the smaller girl was nearly sitting in her lap.
Finally they were through, and safely stumbling through the doors of the castle, only to hear a voice calling, "Potter! Granger! I want to see you both!"
Lilian looked concerned, and Ginny released Hermione's hand with obvious reluctance, but neither of them was about to argue with the Deputy Headmistress. Mary and Hermione followed the Professor to her office, where the Professor said, rather abruptly, "Professor Lupin sent a patronus ahead to say that you were taken ill on the train, Mary."
Madam Pomfrey came bustling in before Mary could say that she was more concerned about Ginny than herself. She was about to protest the mediwitch's presence, before she realized that she could finally get her bloody arm healed.
"It was a dementor, Poppy," the Professor said, and exchanged a dark look with the matron.
"Setting dementors around a school," she muttered, peering at Mary and feeling her forehead. "Yes, she's all clammy. Terrible things, they are, and the effect they have on people who are already delicate…"
"I'm not delicate!" Mary protested.
"Of course you're not," the matron said patronizingly, taking her pulse.
"What does she need?" the Professor asked crisply. "Should she spend the night in the Hospital wing?"
"Oh, no! Come on! It's the first night! I'm fine!"
"She needs some chocolate at the very least," Madam Pomfrey said, ignoring Mary's protests and trying to look into her eyes.
"I've had some! Remus passed it around."
"Did he, now? Glad we've finally got a Defense teacher who knows his remedies." There was an approving glint in the matron's eye.
"So I'm good, then? I can go?"
"Are you sure you're feeling alright, Miss Potter?"
"Yes. I'm not magically exhausted or actually ill or anything!" she declared. "But, erm… if you wouldn't mind…" she held out her arm and pulled up her sleeve to reveal the muggle cast.
Madam Pomfrey tutted and subjected her to a ten-minute lecture on muggle healing and why she ought to have just gone to St. Mungo's before fixing her arm, but Mary thought it was worth it. She gleefully conjured a rainbow of sparks as soon as she could move her wrist again. The lecture continued until the Professor and Hermione reappeared. Mary hadn't even noticed that they had slipped out while she was under the matron's steely gaze.
The Professor cleared her throat. "If that's all, Poppy, we do need to get to the Feast."
"It most certainly is not all, Minerva McGonagall! We will be having words this evening!" Madam Pomfrey snapped. But she did let them go.
Despite the lingering effects of the dementor, Mary was practically skipping to be able to use her wand arm again, and Hermione looked very pleased with herself, too.
"What was that about, then?" Mary asked her quietly as the Professor hurried ahead.
"Just a class scheduling issue," Hermione said. "It's dealt with, anyway."
"What classes are you taking, again?"
"All of them," Hermione said with a faint blush.
"Hermione!" Mary was shocked. "I know we said to sign up for everything, but we didn't expect you to keep everything!"
"You can't tell anyone. I'm doing some lessons with other houses, and some independent study to make it work, but it should be fine!"
"You're going to go spare! That's like a whole extra course-load!"
"It's only two classes more than you," Hermione retorted.
"And twice as many as last year! What good are you going to get out of Muggle Studies?! Your parents are muggles!"
"But it'll be good to get a wizarding perspective, won't it?"
"Aren't you supposed to be studying for your O-levels, too?"
"Well, yes, but that's in my free time."
"You aren't going to have any free time with twelve classes, genius."
"It'll be fine, Lizzie, you'll see," Hermione insisted, clearly still pleased with herself and her schedule, as they entered the Hall. Professor Flitwick was just carrying out the Sorting Hat. "Oh, we've missed it!" she added softly.
"Meet you tomorrow at lunch?" Mary asked.
"Yeah, suppose so. If I'm not here, I'll be in the library," Hermione answered. She bounced away toward the Ravenclaw table as Mary scanned the crowd of Slytherins for Lilian and the other third-years. Daphne, Blaise and Theo had vanished, but Lilian was about halfway down on the Hufflepuff side.
As she reached her friend, she realized that something was very wrong. No one was talking at all, and there were a lot of surreptitious stares being thrown down the length of the table at a very small, very damp-looking firstie.
She didn't have a chance to ask about him, however, because as soon as she sat down next to Lilian, Dumbledore stood to make an announcement.
"Welcome!" he called across the hall. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast," he cleared his throat. "As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business."
A discontented grumble broke out throughout the table. Mary distinctly heard Malfoy say, two seats down on the opposite side, that his father would be hearing about this. For once she agreed. She thought she might send an owl to Catherine and Emma as well. The last thing the school needed was demonic prison guards swarming around it.
"They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds," the Headmaster continued, "and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave the school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises – or even Invisibility Cloaks," he added blandly. Mary rolled her eyes. How stupid did the Headmaster think they were? "It is not in the nature of a dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl to make sure that no student runs afoul of the dementors." Mary wondered idly who the Head Girl was. She knew Percy Weasley was Head Boy, because Ginny and the twins had complained about it, but no one had mentioned the Head Girl.
"On a happier note," Dumbledore continued, "I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year: First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."
There was some scattered, unenthusiastic applause. Only the girls and the Weasley twins clapped hard as he stood and made a short, formal bow, looking very shabby next to the other professors in their best robes.
"Look at Snape!" Lilian whispered in Mary's ear.
Their Head of House was staring at Remus with pure loathing. Mary had hoped that they would be able to work together, despite the fact that they hadn't gotten on in their school days. In his letters, when Remus had talked about Snape, it was with a sort of nostalgic and rueful air, as though he was not proud of his younger self, but perhaps amused by his foolishness. It appeared Snape didn't remember their schoolboy feud nearly as fondly.
Bugger.
"As to our second new appointment," the Headmaster said as the lukewarm applause for Professor Lupin died away, "Well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs." That was not news at all. "However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties."
Mary's jaw (figuratively) hit the floor. No way. There was no bloody way she was taking any class taught by Hagrid. She was sure he knew his creatures, but they'd probably be slaughtered by a "cute" "little" quintaped or something in his first class. Absolutely not.
"Do you think Snape would let me drop Creatures?" she asked Lilian, her question lost in the tumultuous applause from the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables.
"Probably," Lilian whispered back, "but I'm keeping it. It'll be good to get out of the castle more, and I want to keep the option to drop one of the others if it's really horrible."
"Well, I think that's everything of importance," Dumbledore announced. "Let the feast begin!"
The golden plates and goblets filled with food and drink. Mary served herself and then finally asked Lilian why everyone was so tense.
Lilian's eyes sparkled with mischief as she whispered, "We've got a muggleborn!"
"What?!" Mary replied, rather too loudly. "Is it Rhees?"
Lilian nodded.
"Well, you seem awfully cheerful for someone who just lost a bet. Where did your other firsties go?"
"Two Hufflepuff, one Gryffindor," Lilian said, waving away Mary's question. "Can't you just wait to see how things shape up this year? It's going to be brilliant. I bet at least five upperclassmen get hexed for breaking the truce and Rule One."
"Lilian," Mary said seriously, "his first month is going to be even worse than mine was. I wouldn't wish that on anyone."
"Going soft, Potter?" Blaise whispered in her ear. She startled, badly, and he sniggered at her. "Budge over, Moon."
He joined them on the bench and Mary punched him in the shoulder, hard. "Don't do that, you arsehole."
"Not my fault you weren't being observant. Now, what's this about you being a blood traitor?" Mary hit him again.
"I think he likes that," Lilian smirked. "It doesn't seem to be having the intended effect."
Blaise reached out and wrapped an arm around each of them, pulling them close and murmuring in Lilian's ear, "Of course I do, but then, you always knew I was a sick puppy, Moon." He ignored Mary's struggles to free herself from his evil clutches.
"Save it for the common room, Zabini," Lilian grinned, pushing his pouty face away from her own.
"You know you love it, Moon. So, Potter," he said, changing tone and course, releasing Lilian completely (she stuck her tongue out at him before turning to Lawrence Chesterfield, last year's reserve keeper and apparently the new fifth-year prefect). "I owe you fifteen galleons, right?"
"Yes. Yes you do."
He slipped a handful of gold into her pocket with the arm that had been casually holding her in place and finally let her go.
"Where're Daphne and Theo?"
Blaise shrugged. "Networking, and being an antisocial creeper respectively."
"I do hope you appreciate the irony of you calling anyone else a creeper," Mary snarked.
"Ah, but I'm a social creeper, which makes a world of difference, right Moon?"
"No," Lilian threw over her shoulder without breaking off her conversation with Chess.
"You wound me, cruel female!" the boy declared dramatically.
"Whatever," she returned casually.
"Aren't you and Daphne dating?" Mary asked.
"Dating might be too strong of a word. We're friends. Our parents are in pre-pre-nuptial negotiations. It's an open relationship." He waggled his eyebrows at her.
"I'm… very happy for you both?" Mary said questioningly.
He waved this away. "Nah, it's no big deal until we're at least fifteen."
"Right…" Mary knew many of the Old Families, including the Greengrasses, wrote betrothal contracts early, but it was something else entirely to put it in the perspective that two kids her own age were already thinking about marriage.
"Anyway, how was your summer? Flint, Bole, and Montague were telling an amusing story about you flying into a tree and having an adventure at a muggle hospital. Don't tell me you went native over the break."
Mary flushed, but wiggled her fingers in front of his face. "It's fixed now! They can go to hell!"
"Language, Potter! I'm just saying, even I've never actually run into a tree."
Blaise was actually a very good flier, he just had no hand-eye coordination and therefore no skill when it came to Quidditch. "I didn't just 'run into a tree,' I was flying slalom under the tree line during a thunderstorm, and got distracted by a lightning strike just in time for a branch to knock me out," she admitted.
"Well, at least you didn't just run into a tree. Daphne did that once, when we were about eight. It was hilarious. Ask Astoria sometime. She tells it the best. Anything else fun and exciting I should know about?"
"Nope," Mary said, popping the p.
"Are you sure?" Blaise asked teasingly.
"Of course I am. What exactly are you insinuating?" she added suspiciously.
Suddenly, Blaise's lips were very close to Mary's ear. "I hear someone's favorite godfather is headed to Hogwarts," he whispered in a sing-song tone.
"Not exactly what I'd call 'fun and exciting,' Zabini," Mary said, raising a very unimpressed eyebrow at him.
"Well, exciting at the very least," he said with a shameless grin. "I'm off to find Theo. Ta!"
And with that he smoothly extricated himself from the bench and sauntered away.
"What was all that about?" Lilian asked.
"I… think he just tried to give me a friendly warning."
"Weird."
"Very."
Shortly after that, dessert was served. Mary and Lilian chatted about their new professors with their nearest neighbors and when they grew bored of that, began a running commentary on the activities of Snape and Sinistra at the High Table. There was something subtly different about their Head of House, something that had changed since they saw him at Diagon Alley, and it took nearly until the end of the feast for Lilian to put her finger on what.
"His hair!"
"What about it? Snape shoots furtive glance at Sinistra, who appears to be checking out Remus, possibly only to irritate Snape."
"It's shiny and, well, normal looking."
"Wait, he broke the hair curse?"
"Must've done. Ooh, Snape's left hand vanishes behind the table. Judging by that expression, I doubt it's doing anything innocent down there…"
"Sinistra, boiling mad, or potentially just boiling, gives Snape a smouldering glare."
"Have you been reading Hermione's romance novels?"
"No," Mary said, too-innocently. "Only the particularly well-worn scenes of Catherine's. Why?"
Lilian sniggered. "Your sexy dialogue needs work."
The Headmaster stood again and cleared his throat. "Now that the essential task of feeding and watering ourselves has been all but accomplished, I believe we have time for a few more words.
"As always, the Forbidden Forest is still forbidden to all students. Argus Filch has added an additional seventy-three items to the lists of banned items posted on his door, which I advise you to consult before your next trip to Zonko's, and, we mustn't forget: soporific, defenestrate, petrichor, and ambisinister. Now, if you will all pick your favorite tune, we shall have the school song before we're off to bed!"
The Slytherins, as was traditional, plugged their ears and waited until the cacophony of the school song died away, to be replaced by a young man's voice saying, "This is Lawrence Chesterfield speaking. Second-years and up are to make their way to the common room to meet the ickle firsties. The password is Bitis inornata. You all will have a five-minute head start, as always. Remember, the password is Bitis inornata."
A moment later, he was back, announcing to the firsties that they would meet in the entrance hall in five minutes.
"How the bloody hell does he come up with these passwords?" Lilian grumbled as they made their way toward the common room.
"They're all viper species," Mary said. "I asked last year after it got changed to 'pureblood' all break. Snape chooses the first one, and it's always a viper, and then the prefects take turns over the rest of the year."
Lilian looked around furtively. "Should you be saying that aloud?" she whispered.
Mary shrugged. "There's about a hundred of them. I think it's safe enough."
"Hmm. Maybe that can be the new Snape Fact."
"Snape Fact?"
"You know, all the things they warn the firsties about: Snape is an ex-Death Eater, Snape is not anorexic, Snape is not a morning person, never ever knock on the door to Snape's personal quarters… I think they keep an actual list somewhere for new prefects."
"Why would they need a new one?"
"Well, obviously his hair is no longer cursed, so they can't use that."
Mary grinned as they entered the common room. It was a relief to be back. "I dunno, I think they could get more mileage out of the Snape-Sinistra thing."
The girls flopped down on a couch near Theo and Daphne. Blaise had draped himself across the two of them like a very large cat, and Daphne was playing with his hair.
"Don't you three look cozy," Lilian observed.
"Save me, Moon, Potter!" Theo demanded. Now that she looked more closely, she could see that Blaise's apparently casually draped limbs were specifically placed to pin Theo to his seat and prevent him reaching his wand.
"No chance," Mary said, giving him an overdone look of pity. "If we get too close, he's bound to pull us in as well."
"Bloody wanker," Theo grumbled, trying to prise one of his arms free. Daphne sniggered at him.
"What the hell happened to you over the summer, Zabini? You never used to be this… physically affectionate," Lilian said, a hint of real curiosity under her feigned distaste. Mary was well aware that Blaise was a good-looking boy. In a year or two, she was sure he would rival Kirke and Diggory for the title of most attractive boy in school. She doubted her friend had any problem with his manhandling her in the Great Hall.
"Either I've decided to embrace my true heritage as an incubus, or Number Seven finally bit it, and I'm in need of comforting," he said, with a completely straight face, then added, with puppy-dog eyes for Theo, "Why won't you love me?"
"Fine, I'm not gay, you fucking psychopath! Let me go!"
Blaise sat up at that, releasing his victim and tousling his hair back to its usual perfection. "Well, that's all you had to say, wasn't it. Was it so hard?"
"What? Calling you a psychopath? No, that's easy enough." Theo moved to Mary and Lilian's couch, safely out of Blaise's arm's reach.
"No, admitting you're not gay."
"Maybe I lied. It's still none of your business."
"Wait, you were pinned to the couch because you wouldn't admit you're not gay?" Mary asked, dumbfounded and more than a little confused.
"That and I don't like being touched and the sadist over there knows it," he said, glaring at Blaise. Apparently no further explanation was forthcoming.
"Dark Powers, Theo, chill. It was mostly because I was bored." He checked the time with an idle flick of his wand. It was already a quarter past ten, and Snape was nowhere to be seen.
Their Head of House finally arrived almost five minutes later, appearing out of the labyrinth of tunnels which made up the dorm, rather than through the main entrance. Mary wondered if he had come in through a side-door, or if he had been there all along.
Ten minutes after that, the first-years finally made it through the door, several minutes slower than last year, which meant that Chess and Morgana, who had apparently been made the female prefect, though she hadn't said anything on the train, were not congratulated for an improved time. This was not, however, entirely surprising, since there were at least four or five more students in this year's class. They introduced themselves quickly, as did the prefects. Soon after that, the upperclassmen were dismissed. Lilian gave Mary a questioning look when she made no move to leave. Mary waved her away, explaining that she fully intended to wait and speak to Professor Snape about dropping Hagrid's class.
Mary didn't know if it was her imagination, or the ordeal with the dementor, or if Professor Snape really was belaboring every point of his welcome speech, but it seemed to last ages longer than she remembered from her first year. He spent a particularly long time on the Truce and the House Rules, and sent Dave Rhees, whom Mary now recognized under his pointy hat, a significant look when he told the students to come to him if they were being bullied. On the other hand, he sent her a significant look when he said that Black Arts were forbidden at Hogwarts, which she thought was a bit unfair, given that she definitely didn't remember participating in any Black Arts rituals, and probably hadn't done so voluntarily. (She hoped.)
Finally, he had quizzed the new students on his speech, and swept dramatically out of the room.
Shite! She had forgotten about his penchant for dramatic entrances and exits. As the firsties followed Chess and Morgana to their rooms, she poked her head out of the main doorway. As she had hoped, Professor Snape was leaning against a wall, waiting to smirk at her.
"Hello, sir."
"Hello, Mary Elizabeth. Need I remind you of my office hours, again?"
Mary bit back a smile at his habitual sarcasm. "No, sir. I was hoping to speak to you about Care of Magical Creatures."
"What about it? You have thirty seconds."
That was fine. It couldn't take more than two to say: "I want to drop it."
"Why?"
"Because it's being taught by Hagrid."
"He is a professor now, Miss Potter."
"Sorry, sir. Professor Hagrid." Snape made a motion for her to elaborate. "The same Hagrid – Professor Hagrid – who named a Cerberus 'Fluffy,' and tried to raise a dragon in his hut, and took a bunch of first-years into the Forest to hunt something that could kill unicorns, sir! Like I told Lilian, we're liable to get killed by an adorable Quintaped called Boris or something. I want out."
Snape's face twitched in what Mary hoped was a suppressed smirk before he said, "Very well, I will have your schedule altered accordingly. If that is all…?"
She wanted to ask him what his problem was with Remus, but that could wait until she wasn't about to fall asleep on her feet, and they weren't in the middle of a public corridor. "Yes, sir," she said, genuinely grateful to be out of that particular class. "Thank you, sir," she added, turning back to the door to the common room. She found she couldn't remember the new password for the life of her. After checking to make sure that Snape had already headed for his quarters, she hissed open at the apparently blank wall. It did so and she headed for her own bed, smirking broadly.
It was very good to be back.
