Chapter Ten: What You Know.
Disclaimer: I own none of the material written by J. K. Rowling, or her publishing company, or Warner Brothers.
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When the first hex Gossamer Potter-Gamp had ever experienced struck home she found herself crippled. Sardines pouring from the nose, throat convulsing at the endless presence of rotten fish snaking across her mucous membrane. As oxygen flooded out of her brain the girl reflected on the first three weeks of school. Of the competitiveness that landed her in this terrible predicament.
There had been the Professors that loved her simply for being the offspring of James and Lily Potter. Flitwick had gushed as such upon their first meeting before the whole class. Of course, he also cornered her after class to enquire after her famous, accomplished, Charm's Mistress of an aunt. Enquire, in this case, simply meant to prise away any confidential information Gossamer accidentally knew regarding the Department of Mystery's latest studies. Not appreciating such a rude endeavor the girl, with just as much impoliteness, simply 'enquired' if Flitwick's short stature had yielded an unfair advantage over opponents during his duelling days. Needless to say he now steadfastly ignored her even when she raised her hand to answer questions.
Others still did not seem to care at all such as Professors Sprout, Binns, and McGonagall. Of course, when Gossamer was the very first student, only a hair sooner than Hermione, to transfigure a match to a needle, the strict Professor had revealed a strange expression. The Girl-Who-Lived had not been too distracted by the ten points awarded her House to notice that it was rather wistful indeed.
Of course, it was a major shock to encounter one Severus Snape for her very first Potions class in that first week. Seated beside Daphne, while Hermione had taken to very charitably assisting a genuinely helpless Neville Longbottom as proven in all other classes, they all watched the man sweep into the dungeons. A mass of black fabric and disgustingly unwashed hair. Nose wrinkling Gossamer had instantly begun to peruse her as he spoke down to them in a condescending tone.
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word. Like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach." More silence followed this little speech. Gossamer and Daphne exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. Poor Hermione was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead.
"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood." Hermione's shoulder jerked as though she instinctively wished to answer the question. Instead the girl fought the reluctant muscle down and turned to stare at Gossamer like the rest of the class. Both the bookworm and Daphne looked interested to see how their new friend would fare in Potions.
Gossamer had annotated over half of each of her books prior to arriving at Hogwarts. Consequently she knew the answer. "A Sleeping Potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. Though that is a NEWT level Potion…."
"Where would you look if I told you to find a bezoar, Potter?" Snape's lip curled nastily, though Gossamer could discern an interested gleam hiding in his eyes.
"The stomach of a ruminant given that it is a small stone composed of-."
"What is the difference between Monkshood and Aconite?" He cut her off, jumping to the third question without any pause.
At this point Gossamer was truly lucky to have been so well acquainted with Herbology, for she had not read about that particular plant yet. "Same thing," She half-grunted aloud at the realization that he would merely talk over her.
"Stay after class Potter," He snapped sharply prior to bidding that they begin brewing a Simple Cure for Boils. At one instance both Hermione and herself jumped up to stop Neville from adding the porcupine quills prior to having pulled his cauldron off the heat. At that point the three of them agreed he would only ever prepare ingredients and observe Hermione in action until he became more confident. Moments after what could have truly been a devastating accident Snape forced the class to listen as he preened over Malfoy's ability to stew horned slugs.
"He wants to get in good with Malfoy Senior, no doubt," Daphne had sneered under her breath as they worked. "If Abraxas Malfoy were still alive Snape wouldn't have even bothered with it all."
"Why is that?" Gossamer asked just as subtly.
"The little I know of Severus Snape from Pureblood social circles is that he was a former Death Eater-turned-spy for Dumbledore, and a half-blood. A staunch purist like Abraxas Malfoy never would have associated with a traitorous half-blood." She smiled cheekily at her friend, "Just a little warning to keep in mind for after class, Goss!"
"Did you ever write that apology letter to your parents?" The other First Year rebutted quite coyly indeed.
"No," Daphne sniffed indignantly, "Though I suppose my parents will have already suspected that the Sorting was not quite up to scratch with the delay of my correspondence." Her voice had not quite been as whispery as intended allowing an unsavoury individual to eavesdrop.
"Up to scratch, Greengrass?" Pansy Parkinson chortled behind them whilst Millicent Bulstrode glowered pettily. "How many generations of your ancestors have been Slytherins? Then you threw it all away to sit alongside the lowest scum in Potions?" In a surreptitious movement Daphne twirled her middle finger through her luxurious golden locks. The outraged expressions of Parkinson and her crony were forgotten soon after as Snape passed by each of the cauldrons.
Pink steam indeed misted from the bubbling cauldron which sat before them. Of course, the magenta hue of the Potion itself was not standard. Snape had saved the pair of them for last and dismissed the class upon glancing at the brew. "Who brewed?" He finally asked once everyone had cleared. When Daphne tentatively raised her hand Snape all-but snarled for her to leave. "I will have you know, Potter," He stared with those black eyes, "That your mother was quite the Potioneer as well. I also remember half of the things she got up to as being quite illicit in both the school's rules, and further beyond."
Gossamer wondered how her mother had ever come to be known by such a foul-tempered wizard. "Before pouncing upon any poorly constructed, hair-brained plots you will approach me with a procedural plan. Sufficiently detailed with any necessary research outlined in an accredited format." He glared as if to punctuate that point. "The next time you deviate from my instructions by altering something even so insignificant as the constitution of dried nettles, I shall approve it first. Is. That. Understood?"
"Yes Professor Snape," She answered him without flinching, emerald-green glaring boldly against demonic black.
"Leave," He intoned firmly, sweeping away, "With half-a-point to Gryffindor for the strongest Cure for Boils I have encountered in some years." She scurried from the room none-too-eagerly.
In the following weeks Gossamer surprised herself with just how competitive of a student she was shaping into. Only Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts were proving challenging. Professor Quirrell had proven an incredibly peculiar man who left a wildly unsettling feeling in her stomach. Coco Potter had wasted no time teaching her niece that if someone ever made her feel unsafe she was to trust her gut. She followed that advice, and this was the only class in which she sat in the back.
Charms, of course, was made abysmal due to the fact that she was the only student disliked by Professor Flitwick. Whilst the theory flew over her head entirely both she and Hermione had Daphne to thank for their advanced practical abilities. Beneath the Greengrass girl's assistance they could levitate increasingly large objects with practice, as well as unlock unenchanted doors. Recently the three of them had arrived on equal footing which meant they were attempting the Severing Charm together.
Everywhere else Gossamer found that she was scrabbling ferociously for the top spot. She and Neville competed ferociously for Professor Sprout's attention in Herbology. The Hufflepuff Head often lamented aloud at having lost them both to Gryffindor. Hermione had been the greatest competition in History of Magic as well as Transfiguration. While Transfiguration was almost always a draw Gossamer gained a covert edge in History of Magic by surreptitiously visiting ghosts about the castle for help with her essays.
Potions was indomitably her own terrain. Only Draco Malfoy, Hermione, and Daphne came in anywhere close though they were still far behind. There was something so natural about Potions. Gossamer could draw upon her vast knowledge of simplistic magical plants to tweak the recipes in a favourable manner. True to her word she would do as Snape had asked. Though it was hard. No matter how much effort she put into her experimental plans new inspirations would always appear on the fly. Barely restrainable urges to manipulate the simmering brews into something more potent. Instinctual even.
Then finally there came Astronomy where an unexpected competitor pushed into the foray. Pansy Parkinson, snide little hag she was, had somehow managed to surpass them all in gaining Professor Sinistra's doting admiration. Between sneering that Hermione was 'filthy scum', and Daphne was a 'blood traitor', she proved a meticulous observer of the cosmos. Of course, Gossamer pushed herself even harder to make up for the gap. By the third week she was nearly as dab a hand as Pansy, but it came at a great cost.
On a Thursday, the day after Astronomy, Gossamer found herself approaching the library for a bit of pre-dinner studying. "Off to bury your face in McGonagall's righteous arse, Potter?" Pushing from a shadowy alcove was Parkinson. Flanking her on the right was Millicent Bulstrode while Tracy Davis rounded out the left.
"No," She answered smugly, "I was going to study a particular star chart. While you slip further behin-."
"Shut it," Millicent whipped her wand out with a sadistic glower. The hulking girl looked as though she was ready to perform some deadly form of Black Magic. Gossamer was less than impressed.
"What are you going to do?" She asked snarkily, hands settling defiantly upon her hips. "Shoot sparks at me until I cry?" A coy arch of the eyebrow accentuated her fiery smile. "I have recently mastered the Severing Charm," Tone growing incredibly frosty, "Whichever of you tries to attack me first will be shown no mercy. The Board of Governors will certainly be inclined to side with a student acting in self-defense."
"My grandfather is on the board." A cruel glint glittered in Pansy's dull eyes, "He and his colleagues will side with me over a scumsucking mudwallower any day." She snapped with the elegance expected of any heiress. "Since you are so fond of learning, I imagine it would do you well to get a private lesson with Tracey here. She already knows how to cast a Hex…" In only a few seconds Gossamer was kneeling on the stone floor while sardines wiggled throughout her skull. Gagging violently choked as the three witches laughed.
"Finite Incantatem," A crisp voice interrupted the torture, as she was helped to her feet. Blinking away the awful taste of rotted fish Gossamer glanced into a pair of grey eyes that could only be characterized as wells of compassion. A handsome boy, presumably two years older, stared concernedly down at her. Pansy began to make a smart remark until he pointed his wand threateningly at her. "If I were you," He stared her down firmly, "I would recognize just how out of my depth I was in this situation." His grip tightened on her shoulder. "Perhaps she can impart the seriousness upon you more… Sufficiently."
"No," Gossamer did not draw her wand at his thinly veiled suggestion. "You three, edentulous slags are going to leave. With the knowledge that your integrity is nonexistent. That no one in Gryffindor ever would have ganged up on another student, three-to-one, as you all did today." They all stood staring. Until the older student shot warning sparks prompting them all to scurry off. She waited not a moment later to to rifle through her bag, pulling out a bag of bourbon Charm Chocs. Without glancing at him the Girl-Who-Lived stormed into the library as originally intended. Eventually, with her usual table close at hand, Gossamer finally sat down. "What do you want?"
"I just rescued you from a Nose-Sardine Hex," He sat across from her, eyeing the surprising number of books being pulled from her satchel. "Would it not be reckless of me to leave without making sure you haven't suffered a stroke?"
"I was just destroyed by a Slytherin in a duel after talking a load of horse shite," Gossamer snapped back at him. She turned to glare murderously at the shushing which ensued from Madam Pince's direction. "I do not want to be quarantined by the Hufflepuff that saved me from it all." Green eyes softened prior to flashing apologetically, "Thank you, by the way, I suppose I should say." Her voice grew feebler as the rage subsided, "I don't know your name. You certainly already know who I am though."
"Cedric Diggory, and I really had no choice about whether or not to interfere," He did not seem fazed by her half-crazed rant. There was a kindness to his grey eyes, she noted again. Her mind whirled at the realization that there was a 'Madam Diggory' on the Wizengamot. Certainly it would help her case to befriend a Pureblood with such connections as Cedric Diggory had. Perhaps something good could actually come from the earlier debacle. The only question was how to accomplish it? "Have the Slytherins already attacked you like this?" He wondered whilst staring at her still-reddened face.
"No," She answered, incredibly grateful that her breath no smelled of bourbon instead of rotted fish.
"Then you need to prepare," He stared firmly at her, "Slytherins are far more unified than the other Houses. They will be coming after you in droves until it is proven that you are capable of defending yourself."
"How do I do that?" She admitted to him, "Professor Quirrell gives me the creeps, and Flitwick hates me. I can hardly ask McGonagall to teach me defensive magic."
He swept a hand towards the piles of annotated books sitting before her. "You are clearly no slouch, Gossamer Potter. Not from what I can see sitting here, nor from what I have heard of you already." Cedric Diggory smiled before whispering, "I will let you in on a secret. Something that has helped me immensely with duelling." He sat back, wand withdrawn, "What are you good at? Other than your rumoured genius in Potions and Herbology?"
"Transfiguration," She answered curiously, "I was the first to transfigure my match into a needle."
"Good," He whispered an incantation causing a single match to appear on the table before them. "What makes Dumbledore such a great wizard? What, other than the uncommonly large magical core, allowed him to defeat Grindelwald?" The match floated up in the air with the aid of a Hovering Charm. The third year did not wait for an answer. With another effortless spell the match was transformed into a needle. In another move it was duplicated into at least one-hundred duplicate needles. All of which looked dangerously sharp in that moment. "Dumbledore comprehensively mastered the fundamentals. When he learned how to transfigure a match to needle he did not simply stop there. No, he learned to make more matches. Then I am certain he learned precisely how to send those needles in the direction of unassuming adversaries."
"Can I really learn all of those spells?" Her voice held an interested tone.
"Yes. Conjuring matches is far simpler than conjuring needles. The rest is just a matter of creativity, and sufficient perusal of this very fine library." Standing, the boy nodded down at her. "Also bear in mind that the DADA curriculum at Hogwarts is very poorly overseen. You will probably learn more cutting class than listening to Quirrell." With a charming wink the lad left her sitting alone.
That was when she realized just how much of a slacker she had been in her quest to become as powerful of a witch as Dumbledore.
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"Goss!" Hermione hissed, "Are we really not going to discuss what happened today? You were almost expelled!"
"Now I am on the Quidditch team," The girl retorted quietly, whilst peering through an obscure book written on magical manipulation of surfaces. A week had passed since she was cornered by Pansy Parkinson. Already she found herself soaring beyond her peers although it required an immense amount of work. In between classes her nose was always pressed into a book. During the evenings she could always be found by the Black Lake practicing spells prior to heading for dinner. While Hermione wasted precious talent constantly revising for tests, and Daphne wasted precious talent on writing scurried notes to her enraged parents, Gossamer was making connections. Even Flitwick had been impressed when she managed a Mending Charm in front of him, before he realized that he was supposed to hate her of course.
"The far more important thing here," Daphne sighed disinterestedly whilst aggressively signing the letter which sat in front of her, "Is that Goss has made it onto the Quidditch team. As a First Year." Her icy blue eyes roved disapprovingly over Hermione. "Perhaps she should stand up to ignoramuses like Malfoy far more often."
"Or not," Hermione clapped back whilst pulling her notes out. "The last thing I need is for my friend to push the limits too far and get expelled!"
"Useless," The frazzled girl in question slammed the book shut prior to addressing them both. "Being on the Quidditch team is not something to be excited about. I will lose so much studying time it is hardly even worth the prestige without mentioning the obvious possibility of death." She pulled the wand that was tucked into her bombshell blonde bun out allowing the locks to cascade sleekly about. "If McGonagall had not blackmailed me with detention never would have agreed otherwise." Green eyes roved over to Hermione after. "Dumbledore will never expel me from Hogwarts. Not unless I am caught murdering someone which would result in my being sent to Azkaban anyways."
"Why?" The muggleborn asked confusedly.
"Oh dear," Daphne, who had started reviewing her Transfiguration notebook smiled. "The time has come for us to teach Miss-Know-It-All about the ways of the Wizarding World."
"Answer my question, Daphne Greengrass," Hermione crossed both arms causing her friends to laugh.
"It cannot be answered simply, Hermione," Gossamer spoke firmly, "You must understand how the government operates in the Wizarding World."
"Who holds the power," Daphne supplied.
"Why they hold that power," Gossamer affirmed.
"But if you truly wish to understand," Daphne peered at their muggleborn friend, "You have to do it properly. Our way." When Hermione Granger nodded the Greengrass girl wasted no time at all. "Research these topics comprehensively. Next Thursday we will discuss them together, and I will give you more."
It was a very strange dynamic indeed. A Greengrass sitting with the Girl-Who-Lived and a muggleborn. Though it seemed right. Even when Hermione lectured her about stupid recklessness, and Daphne ridiculed that such a bookworm/Herbology-freak would be the youngest Seeker in generations, Gossamer felt happy. She knew that there was no other place in the world that she really wanted to be.
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Next Chapter: The Start of Much Trouble.