Part Nine

It was morning.

The night had passed without much hubbub. There was no surprise

attack by the Dark Lord to recapture his lost daughter or anything

even remotely close to that. Willow personally thought those fears

had been unfounded to begin with, but there were those people who

felt that way all the same. Her father inspired a lot of fear in the

Wizarding World, and for good reason.

But that didn't mean he was coming for her. After much careful

thought, Willow honestly didn't understand why HE would come for

her. She was a child begotten of rape, and while he was the one

doing the raping, still. She wasn't expected, he wasn't anticipating

her. And finally, didn't HE have more important things to do with

his time. After all, plotting world domination is a trying task. Or

so she assumed.

Willow planted herself down at the Gryffindor table, studiously

ignoring all the whispers and squeaks around her. The Slytherin

table was practically squawking with indignation when she wandered

into the Great Hall, surrounded by her cousins and Harry and

Hermione. She knew how they stood on the whole her being in

Gryffindor thing, but wished they would get over it. The Hat had

sorted, time for everyone to deal with it.

"What's on the schedule for today?" Ron asked cheerfully, loading his

plate up with food the second he sat down. Willow watched him fill

his plate with wide eyes, momentarily having a flashback to Xander.

That reminded her of the letter she had to send, the one currently

residing in her pocket.

"Um, guys?" she called for attention. "How do I send a letter around

here? I know its by owl, but I don't have an owl."

Harry smiled reassuringly at her.

"Don't worry. You can borrow Pig or Hedwig."

"Who and who?"

"Harry's owl is Hedwig," Hermione explained from her spot across the

table. "And Ron's owl is Pig."

"Not by choice," Ron muttered, shooting his younger sister a

glare. "All her fault that was."

Ginny responded by sticking her tongue out at her brother before

turning her attention to breakfast and her schedule. Oh, the

schedule! Willow scooped her timetable up, eyes flying over the

lessons she had for the day.

"Oh bloody hell!" Ron declared unhappily, reading over her

shoulder. "First day back and we've got Double Potions with the

Slytherins!"

"This that a bad thing?" Willow asked in confusion, thinking over her

tutoring during the summer. Potions had been one of her favourite

subjects, being very close to Chemistry and therefore not that hard

for this witch to grasp. But why was Ron acting like it was the end

of the world?

"Ignore Ron," Hermione instructed her, nibbling on a piece of

toast. "He just doesn't like Professor Snape."

"Does anyone?" Ron snarled in response. "Well, anyone not in

Slytherin?"

"Snape teaches that class?" Willow felt faint, eyes going up to the

staff table and picking out the black-clad figure of Snape. She gave

a tremor of fear, remembering the man's rather strange behaviour to

her. Not afraid, not angry, but something else entirely. It

bothered her.

"Yeah, but don't worry about him," Harry consoled her. "He's too

busy hating the three of us to even focus on anyone else most of the

time."

"Except poor Neville that is," Hermione sighed, shooting a glance

down the table at the boy in question. "Snape loves tormenting him."

Willow frowned, following Hermione's gaze down the table at Neville.

The boy was reading his own timetable, and paling considering.

Willow watched in interest as he worked himself up to a minor panic,

Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan trying to calm him down.

"Neville is scared witless of Snape," Ron explained, his mouth full

of food. Hermione made a face at him, disgust evident on her mouth.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," she chastised lightly before

returning her attention to Willow. "Neville has a tendency to get

very nervous in class, and Snape likes to feed off that. He

purposely tries to make Neville more nervous, hoping that he ends up

ruining his potion."

"That's just mean!" Willow declared, shooting a reproving glance up

at the staff table. "Teachers aren't supposed to act like that!"

"Well, Snape does," Harry shrugged. "We've given up on hoping for a

change. Just one of those dreadful things you have to put up with in

life."

"What a fatalistic approach," Willow commented dryly, and then

frowned. "You'd fit right in at Sunnydale."

"Oh yes, the Hellmouth!" Hermione was practically bouncing in her

seat. "Tell us more about that!"

Willow bit back a giggle at her excitement, nodding her consent.

"Well, what do you want to hear about?"

*****

The time had come for Potions class.

Willow followed behind her fellow Gryffindors as they made their way

down to the dungeons. Once at the classroom, they all piled on one

side of the doorway while the Slytherins milled around the other

side. Willow caught Draco's eye more than once, a bit unnerved at

his almost constant staring.

Ron didn't like it either, sending a snarl or two Draco's way before

blocking his view of Willow. The redhead didn't mind, taking refuge

behind both Harry and Ron, conversing quietly with Hermione while

they all waited on Snape. She saw Neville out of the corner of her

eye, seeing him almost sweating with trepidation. Her heart went out

to the boy, just looking at his frantic form. Snape must be an

absolute monster in the classroom.

And she was about to find that out personally. With a swirl of black

robes, Snape marched up the classroom door, pausing to sneer once at

his Gryffindor students before ordering everyone into the class.

Willow skittered in behind Harry and Ron, taking the seat in between

Hermione and Neville right behind them. She put all her supplies on

the table in front of her, nervously waiting for the start of class.

Hermione sent her a reassuring smile before turning to leaf through

her textbook. A glance in Neville's direction found the boy

nervously shifting his school materials around, avoiding looking at

Snape for as long as he could.

Her eyes went unwillingly to the Slytherin side of the room, where

sure enough, Draco was still watching her. This time he offered her

one of his smirks, a expression that no doubtedly made quite a few

girls swoon. This guy reminded her so much of Spike, in looks and

danger. He just reeked of trouble, someone that she would do well to

avoid. And so, she turned her eyes away, focusing instead on Snape

at the head of the class.

"Well, time to see how much you've forgotten," the man was grumbling,

snappishly doing a roll call. As soon as Willow's name was called,

the list was over, and Snape was looking directly at the redhead.

"You're going to need to pair up with someone for the first little

while," he barked at her. "I don't want you accidentally blowing us

all up."

Willow frowned at his comment, biting her tongue to keep back a

sarcastic remark. Snape was still looking at her harshly, as if

trying to egg her into snapping back at him. But no, if nothing

else, Willow was a good student. And good students didn't question

their teachers, no matter how wrong they were.

"After you're familiarized with the class, then you can work on your

own," Snape continued, letting his eyes travel over the

classroom. "Now, who to be your partner?"

Willow saw Draco perking up at the sound of that, as well felt

Hermione do the same at her side. But Snape's eyes had yet to fall

on either of them, but Willow knew he would look to Draco first if he

got half the chance. So she spoke up, calling his attention away

from the other students.

"Neville can help me."

The whole class seemed to balk at her words. Snape's eyes flew to

hers, mistrust and disbelief evident in his expression. His harsh

gaze went to Neville, but Willow drew his attention to herself.

"You won't mind, will you Neville?"

The boy gulped, unsure who he wanted to anger. There was Snape, the

man who lived to make his existence hard. And then there was the

daughter of You-Know-Who. And as scary as Snape was, he wasn't as

scary as HIM.

"Okay," he barely squeaked out. There were some shocked murmurings,

one that Snape shouted down in a second. The professor looked back

to her, as if measuring her quietly. Willow met his gaze right on,

keeping her face as innocent and neutral as she could.

With a scoff and look that just screamed 'it's-your-funeral', Snape

turned on his heel and marched back to the front of the class.

"Turn to page 91 in your textbooks . . ."

*****

"But, how?"

Willow giggled, shaking her head at Neville's shocked expression.

She took the boy by the arm, leading him away from the dungeons and

to where Hermione, Ron, and Harry stood waiting.

"I'm not sure what you mean, how?" she grinned, nudging Neville with

her elbow slightly. "Care to clarify?"

"How did you manage to do that? To the potion?"

She giggled again, letting go of his arm when they reached the other

three Gryffindors.

"I didn't do anything Neville," she chided him. "It was your potion."

"But I've never done a potion right before," Neville protested,

gesturing to the others. "Go on, tell her."

"Neville's right," Ron laughed. "That has to be some sort of

historical event. Neville passes a Potions class. There might a

special bulletin in the Prophet tomorrow."

"I didn't do anything," Willow insisted, smiling reassuringly to

Neville. "All I did was ask you questions about the class. And

while you were distracted with me, you couldn't focus on how scared

you were of Snape. Basically, you did the potion almost

subconsciously while you were talking to me. And you did it right."

"She's right Neville," Hermione chimed in. "When you aren't worried

about how Snape is going to attack you, you do well in Potions."

"Which means that Willow here figured out a way to get around the

terrible powers of one Professor Snape," Harry chuckled. "The man is

not going to be pleased if this keeps up."

"Why not?" Willow protested. "He's the teacher. It's his job to

make sure that students do things correctly. It's kind of part of

the learning process."

"But tormenting me is a hobby of his," Neville lamented.

"Well, he can't bother you anymore if you keep doing the potions

right," Hermione offered. "So, just keep doing them right."

"But, I don't know how!" the boy protested. Willow shook her head,

clucking her tongue in sympathy.

"You know how Neville," she told him. "You're just too busy being

scared to do it."

This seemed to quiet him and the others, to the point where Ron

rolled his eyes and began pulling on Willow's arm.

"Come on then!" he ordered. "Enough of this. Neville got a potion

right. We should congratulate him and then move on. It's time for

lunch anyhow."

"Do you ever think with something else besides your stomach?"

Hermione frowned disapprovingly. Ron sent her a smile before

dragging Willow in the direction of the Great Hall.

"Not if I can help it," he retorted, chuckling when Hermione stewed

for a second. Willow rolled her eyes, falling into step with her

cousin.

"Remind me to introduce you to Xander. I think the two of you would

get along great."

*****