5.
It was Halloween. Vivian was watching the rain dripping down the windows of the Ravenclaw common room. She had been trying to finish her divination homework, but she wasn't really in the mood. Her mind kept turning back to the book she had found in Snape's office a few weeks ago.
It had to have been addressed to her mother. Snape had known her; she could remember his visits to the small cottage where she had lived with her parents. A fondness for muggle literature was one of the peculiarities she had inherited from them, she had never met anyone else in the wizard world who cared about it: most people seemed to look non-magical reading as a bad habit.
The words came back to her suddenly: "so true a fool is love."
No. She thought. That can't be. It could of course, and the more she thought about it the more obvious it seemed. Everyone had loved her mother. The book could only have been addressed to her. She tried to picture Snape in love, and the idea made her burst out laughing. A few people turned to look at her, but she ignored them.
All the same, the idea was unpleasant, and she dismissed it from her mind.
A few minutes later, Lorna came in. She was drenched, and covered in mud.
"What on earth have you been up to?" Said Vivian.
"Quidditch practice." Said Lorna moodily. She was a ferocious beater for the Ravenclaw house team. "Can I borrow your shampoo?"
"Yeah, sure."
Vivian watched her go with a sense of achievement. She had never had friends before, she had been too ill, and before that she had been too shy. True, she was hardly the most popular person in Ravenclaw, but she had a few close friends, which was all she had wanted.
She turned back to her Divination work, but before she had made any headway she was interrupted again, this time by Marcus Fowler, a Ravenclaw fifth year she knew by sight, but had never spoken to. He had light hair and handsome, deceptively ascetic face. Lorna, she knew, had a crush on him, but she had always avoided him; she might have admired him at a distance but he didn't belong to her world. He was too good-looking, too confident, too charismatic.
"Hi." She said.
"I've got bad news." He said with mock solemnity, "Snape wants to see you, and he looks livid."
Vivian glanced at the clock. It was seven o clock.
"Damn it!"
No wonder Snape was livid. She had completely forgotten about the potion in the excitement of the Halloween feast.
She jumped up and began to run.
"Thank you!" she called over her shoulder as she fled.
Marcus Fowler sat down and coolly began to copy Vivian's Divination homework.
"Strange kid." He commented to himself.
*
Vivian knocked nervously on the door to Snape's office.
"Come in!" she heard Snape bark, and reluctantly she opened the door and stepped inside.
Snape was sitting at his desk, marking essays, and she could tell that he was furious.
"I'm sorry." She said at once. Snape didn't reply, so she shut the door and walked over to his desk. Silence.
"It won't happen again." She tried. The words sounded feeble, stupid. Snape finally looked up.
"Do you know how long I wasted brewing that potion?" he asked in a soft, dangerous voice.
"No."
"An hour and a half."
"I'm sorry."
"You will be." He replied nastily. "The ingredients I used were extremely expensive. They are now wasted. Once the brew becomes cold it becomes useless."
Vivian said nothing. She had already said sorry, what more could she do? There was an unpleasant pause.
"Why did you do this?" asked Snape finally.
"I forgot."
"You forgot?" Snape's voice dripped sarcasm. Vivian could tell he was enjoying the opportunity to indulge his dislike for her.
"You were careless." He said nastily, as if she were a small child. "What were you?"
Vivian could hardly bring herself to answer.
"Careless." She finally muttered.
"Exactly." Snape left another pause, whilst he turned his attention back to the pile of essays.
Finally he said:
"No doubt you are already feeling the effects of missing the potion." Suddenly she was feeling sick and dizzy, and could barely stand, she had to grip the desk for support; it was as if Snape had somehow called the symptoms into being.
Vivian nodded, loathing him. He was watching her pitilessly.
" You loose ten points from Ravenclaw." He said, "And you will stay here and help me prepare another brew of the potion."
"Shall I do the dusting as well?" she muttered under her breath.
Snape looked sharply up at her, but seemed to decide she hadn't spoken.
"You can start boiling the water." He said.
*
They had been working for half an hour when there the sound of raised voices disturbed the silent office. Snape looked up from the cauldron and went to the door. He listened for a few minutes and then said:
"Stay here and carry on working." He might hate the sight of her, but she was clever enough to keep making the potion by herself for ten minutes or so. He swept off without another word.
Vivian was by this time shaking uncontrollably. She sat down and tried to steady herself. In truth she could hardly stand, another half an hour and for all she knew she might be unconscious. She breathed deeply and tried to shake the horrible, drained feeling.
How dare he? Had he any idea what working over a hot cauldron meant for someone in her state? As she shivered she felt herself hate him. Somehow she would get him back for this. She had another sense of the power within her, this time with a mixture of reverence and elation, as if she were testing the sharp edge of a sword.
It was half an hour later before Snape returned.
He glanced at the potion.
"This is ready." He said shortly. Eagerly Vivian poured herself a goblet full and drank it hastily, for once not caring about the taste.
Then she turned unsteadily to go; it was hard to walk, the room seemed to be spinning.
"Miss Leroux." She spun round.
"Yes."
"You might be interested to know that Mr Filch's cat has just been found petrified."
"Really?" she said sarcastically. She realized that Snape was watching her carefully.
"Sit down." He said dispassionately, "You're not in a fit state to walk anywhere yet."
Vivian sat down, realising he was right. If she hadn't she would have fallen. He was still watching her; it was unnerving.
Snape was thinking quickly. He had about ten minutes grace before Vivian would be able to leave. He needed to set her talking.
He thinks I did it, Vivian realised suddenly. How she knew this she wasn't sure, but she could have staked her life that Snape held her responsible for whatever had happened to the cat. It must be because of her mother.
Snape had, true to form, tried to put the blame on Harry Potter, who unaccountably seemed to have discovered the cat, but in his heart he knew that this was impossible. The heir of Slytherin. The daughter of Claudia Slane. It made sense.
"Perhaps whilst you're waiting you could try a game of chess on the board you admired so much." Said Snape. How ridiculous, he thought, to be playing chess with Claudia Slane's daughter. It was not a particularly good way to involve her in conversation, but he supposed it would have to do. It was better than trying to talk to her. From the look on her face he could tell that she loathed him.
Vivian tried to think of an excuse. She might have to wait in the office until she felt better, but that didn't mean she wanted to play board games with Snape.
"I'm not very good."
"You'll learn."
Seeing that there was no alternative, Vivian sat down at the elegant chessboard, and the game began.
It was Halloween. Vivian was watching the rain dripping down the windows of the Ravenclaw common room. She had been trying to finish her divination homework, but she wasn't really in the mood. Her mind kept turning back to the book she had found in Snape's office a few weeks ago.
It had to have been addressed to her mother. Snape had known her; she could remember his visits to the small cottage where she had lived with her parents. A fondness for muggle literature was one of the peculiarities she had inherited from them, she had never met anyone else in the wizard world who cared about it: most people seemed to look non-magical reading as a bad habit.
The words came back to her suddenly: "so true a fool is love."
No. She thought. That can't be. It could of course, and the more she thought about it the more obvious it seemed. Everyone had loved her mother. The book could only have been addressed to her. She tried to picture Snape in love, and the idea made her burst out laughing. A few people turned to look at her, but she ignored them.
All the same, the idea was unpleasant, and she dismissed it from her mind.
A few minutes later, Lorna came in. She was drenched, and covered in mud.
"What on earth have you been up to?" Said Vivian.
"Quidditch practice." Said Lorna moodily. She was a ferocious beater for the Ravenclaw house team. "Can I borrow your shampoo?"
"Yeah, sure."
Vivian watched her go with a sense of achievement. She had never had friends before, she had been too ill, and before that she had been too shy. True, she was hardly the most popular person in Ravenclaw, but she had a few close friends, which was all she had wanted.
She turned back to her Divination work, but before she had made any headway she was interrupted again, this time by Marcus Fowler, a Ravenclaw fifth year she knew by sight, but had never spoken to. He had light hair and handsome, deceptively ascetic face. Lorna, she knew, had a crush on him, but she had always avoided him; she might have admired him at a distance but he didn't belong to her world. He was too good-looking, too confident, too charismatic.
"Hi." She said.
"I've got bad news." He said with mock solemnity, "Snape wants to see you, and he looks livid."
Vivian glanced at the clock. It was seven o clock.
"Damn it!"
No wonder Snape was livid. She had completely forgotten about the potion in the excitement of the Halloween feast.
She jumped up and began to run.
"Thank you!" she called over her shoulder as she fled.
Marcus Fowler sat down and coolly began to copy Vivian's Divination homework.
"Strange kid." He commented to himself.
*
Vivian knocked nervously on the door to Snape's office.
"Come in!" she heard Snape bark, and reluctantly she opened the door and stepped inside.
Snape was sitting at his desk, marking essays, and she could tell that he was furious.
"I'm sorry." She said at once. Snape didn't reply, so she shut the door and walked over to his desk. Silence.
"It won't happen again." She tried. The words sounded feeble, stupid. Snape finally looked up.
"Do you know how long I wasted brewing that potion?" he asked in a soft, dangerous voice.
"No."
"An hour and a half."
"I'm sorry."
"You will be." He replied nastily. "The ingredients I used were extremely expensive. They are now wasted. Once the brew becomes cold it becomes useless."
Vivian said nothing. She had already said sorry, what more could she do? There was an unpleasant pause.
"Why did you do this?" asked Snape finally.
"I forgot."
"You forgot?" Snape's voice dripped sarcasm. Vivian could tell he was enjoying the opportunity to indulge his dislike for her.
"You were careless." He said nastily, as if she were a small child. "What were you?"
Vivian could hardly bring herself to answer.
"Careless." She finally muttered.
"Exactly." Snape left another pause, whilst he turned his attention back to the pile of essays.
Finally he said:
"No doubt you are already feeling the effects of missing the potion." Suddenly she was feeling sick and dizzy, and could barely stand, she had to grip the desk for support; it was as if Snape had somehow called the symptoms into being.
Vivian nodded, loathing him. He was watching her pitilessly.
" You loose ten points from Ravenclaw." He said, "And you will stay here and help me prepare another brew of the potion."
"Shall I do the dusting as well?" she muttered under her breath.
Snape looked sharply up at her, but seemed to decide she hadn't spoken.
"You can start boiling the water." He said.
*
They had been working for half an hour when there the sound of raised voices disturbed the silent office. Snape looked up from the cauldron and went to the door. He listened for a few minutes and then said:
"Stay here and carry on working." He might hate the sight of her, but she was clever enough to keep making the potion by herself for ten minutes or so. He swept off without another word.
Vivian was by this time shaking uncontrollably. She sat down and tried to steady herself. In truth she could hardly stand, another half an hour and for all she knew she might be unconscious. She breathed deeply and tried to shake the horrible, drained feeling.
How dare he? Had he any idea what working over a hot cauldron meant for someone in her state? As she shivered she felt herself hate him. Somehow she would get him back for this. She had another sense of the power within her, this time with a mixture of reverence and elation, as if she were testing the sharp edge of a sword.
It was half an hour later before Snape returned.
He glanced at the potion.
"This is ready." He said shortly. Eagerly Vivian poured herself a goblet full and drank it hastily, for once not caring about the taste.
Then she turned unsteadily to go; it was hard to walk, the room seemed to be spinning.
"Miss Leroux." She spun round.
"Yes."
"You might be interested to know that Mr Filch's cat has just been found petrified."
"Really?" she said sarcastically. She realized that Snape was watching her carefully.
"Sit down." He said dispassionately, "You're not in a fit state to walk anywhere yet."
Vivian sat down, realising he was right. If she hadn't she would have fallen. He was still watching her; it was unnerving.
Snape was thinking quickly. He had about ten minutes grace before Vivian would be able to leave. He needed to set her talking.
He thinks I did it, Vivian realised suddenly. How she knew this she wasn't sure, but she could have staked her life that Snape held her responsible for whatever had happened to the cat. It must be because of her mother.
Snape had, true to form, tried to put the blame on Harry Potter, who unaccountably seemed to have discovered the cat, but in his heart he knew that this was impossible. The heir of Slytherin. The daughter of Claudia Slane. It made sense.
"Perhaps whilst you're waiting you could try a game of chess on the board you admired so much." Said Snape. How ridiculous, he thought, to be playing chess with Claudia Slane's daughter. It was not a particularly good way to involve her in conversation, but he supposed it would have to do. It was better than trying to talk to her. From the look on her face he could tell that she loathed him.
Vivian tried to think of an excuse. She might have to wait in the office until she felt better, but that didn't mean she wanted to play board games with Snape.
"I'm not very good."
"You'll learn."
Seeing that there was no alternative, Vivian sat down at the elegant chessboard, and the game began.