The days seemed to slip by for Harry. After all, quidditch practice had
begun in full, classes were going unusually well, and Ron was still giddy
after earning his masculinity back. Ron and Harry had just gotten out of
Arithmancy when they passed Sarah in the hallway.
"Oh, good day Ron, Harry," she nodded to each of them in turn. "How goes classes today."
"Not too badly, actually," Ron spoke up. "We haven't had much in the way of homework lately. Mind you, I'm not complaining. Say, are you a fan of quidditch? I sure am. Isn't that right, Harry?" Harry peered at Ron, wondering what was causing him to be so, for lack of a better term, perky. Harry merely shrugged.
"Yeah, you are. You can't seem to take your mind off of it," Harry's slight jibe was completely lost of Ron, who continued to beam proudly.
"That's right. It's constantly there. What'd you expect to be in there? Potions? Bah. . ." Ron sniffed and looked up at Sarah, whose eyes seemed to have glazed over. She smiled sardonically, and the look in her eyes faded.
"Don't like potions, hm? It's a fine subject. After all, where else can you learn to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death?" Her grin became even wider at the quizzical looks of the two boys.
"Hey, I've heard that somewhere," Ron scratches his head, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. "Blimey, I hate it when that happens, when something's on the tip of your tongue." He shrugged. "Oh well, probably not important."
Harry chuckled softly, "Anything Snape says rarely is." He turned to Sarah as well, her face slightly red from stifling a laugh. "Sadly enough, though, I wrote that down. Say, did he tell you the same thing?"
She lowered her hand from her mouth, the moment of laughter finally passing. "Indeed he did. I call it the "Bow Down to my Majesty" speech. The name seems to fit quite well." All three burst out laughing, then softened it to a chuckle when footsteps were heard. Low and behold, it was Snape, looking like his usual dreary self. He instantly looked at Harry and Ron, whom immediately stopped.
"Aren't you two supposed to be at lunch?"
"See you later, Sarah."
"Yup, bye."
The two sped off down the corridor, not wanting to tangle, or have another word, with their depressing professor. Sarah smiled at Snape, who turned a slightly hostile glare on the young woman.
"Ms. Dumbledore, I find it highly unlikely that you three were talking about anything useful, so I would encourage you to not fraternize with those two. Their brains are already scattered enough as it is with quidditch and troublemaking, especially Potter." He crosses his arms over his chest, daring her to dispute his claim. Which, of course, she would.
"Professor Snape, trying to control whom I socialize with? I must say, I am surprised at you. One would think that type of behavior would be more fitting to a jealous lover, and not a former teacher." Snape's arms fell as did his sneer. He gained the look on his face within a heartbeat, and looked to reply but no words came. Completely speechless, he turned on his heels and headed down the nearest stairwell, leaving Sarah with a rather wide grin on her face. She sighed happily and touched the castle wall with a hand. "How I have missed this place."
She shook her head in amusement as the nostalgia wore off, and she headed down to lunch. It was already halfway over when she arrived in the Great Hall, and there were several spots open at the Gryffindor table as she sat down. Sarah was happy that she was no longer getting strange and mystified looks from the students. Her mood and thoughts changed when a flash bulb went off less than half a meter from her face.
"Oh blood hell!" Sarah groaned and rubbed her eyes hard, trying to get the black spots out of her vision. "What in the name of . . .who was. . .I'll kill him! The moment I can see again, their head will be mounted on my wall!"
"Oh, Colin, you had better start runn. . ."
"Don't tell her my name!"
Yet the boy took his advice and started running out of the Great Hall, much to the chagrin of the Gryffindors. When Sarah's vision finally cleared, she saw the sniggering faces of every student at the table, minus Hermione, whose nose was placed firmly in a book entitled Magic and Machinery: How Science Has Ruined Magic. Not seeing her enemy in sight, she grudgingly returned to her meal.
Thankfully, lunch ended without further complications. Sarah caught up with her grandfather as he was about to head out."
"Good afternoon, Sarah. Can I help you with something?" He crosses his hands behind his back, and began walking alongside her.
"Actually, yes. I've looked at that paper you gave me, and I believe your initial assumptions were correct." Dumbledore nodded slowly, and stopped walking. Turning to her, he sighed. "So, they are muggle in origin then."
"I'm afraid so, Grandpa. The marks on the paper clearly indicate that they were made with a ballpoint pen, and not with a quill. But, there is good news."
His eyebrows rose, wondering what could be good about any of this. Then seeing her grin, his perplexity rose. "And what might that be, my dear?"
"Well, since Voldemort's followers abhor anything remotely muggle, there are only two possibilities. One: Somehow a muggle found out about us and sent us that paper, knowing it would unnerve us. Or two: someone's playing a prank on us."
Dumbledore nodded again, absorbing the information. "Let us hope it is the second choice, Sarah."
"Oh, good day Ron, Harry," she nodded to each of them in turn. "How goes classes today."
"Not too badly, actually," Ron spoke up. "We haven't had much in the way of homework lately. Mind you, I'm not complaining. Say, are you a fan of quidditch? I sure am. Isn't that right, Harry?" Harry peered at Ron, wondering what was causing him to be so, for lack of a better term, perky. Harry merely shrugged.
"Yeah, you are. You can't seem to take your mind off of it," Harry's slight jibe was completely lost of Ron, who continued to beam proudly.
"That's right. It's constantly there. What'd you expect to be in there? Potions? Bah. . ." Ron sniffed and looked up at Sarah, whose eyes seemed to have glazed over. She smiled sardonically, and the look in her eyes faded.
"Don't like potions, hm? It's a fine subject. After all, where else can you learn to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death?" Her grin became even wider at the quizzical looks of the two boys.
"Hey, I've heard that somewhere," Ron scratches his head, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. "Blimey, I hate it when that happens, when something's on the tip of your tongue." He shrugged. "Oh well, probably not important."
Harry chuckled softly, "Anything Snape says rarely is." He turned to Sarah as well, her face slightly red from stifling a laugh. "Sadly enough, though, I wrote that down. Say, did he tell you the same thing?"
She lowered her hand from her mouth, the moment of laughter finally passing. "Indeed he did. I call it the "Bow Down to my Majesty" speech. The name seems to fit quite well." All three burst out laughing, then softened it to a chuckle when footsteps were heard. Low and behold, it was Snape, looking like his usual dreary self. He instantly looked at Harry and Ron, whom immediately stopped.
"Aren't you two supposed to be at lunch?"
"See you later, Sarah."
"Yup, bye."
The two sped off down the corridor, not wanting to tangle, or have another word, with their depressing professor. Sarah smiled at Snape, who turned a slightly hostile glare on the young woman.
"Ms. Dumbledore, I find it highly unlikely that you three were talking about anything useful, so I would encourage you to not fraternize with those two. Their brains are already scattered enough as it is with quidditch and troublemaking, especially Potter." He crosses his arms over his chest, daring her to dispute his claim. Which, of course, she would.
"Professor Snape, trying to control whom I socialize with? I must say, I am surprised at you. One would think that type of behavior would be more fitting to a jealous lover, and not a former teacher." Snape's arms fell as did his sneer. He gained the look on his face within a heartbeat, and looked to reply but no words came. Completely speechless, he turned on his heels and headed down the nearest stairwell, leaving Sarah with a rather wide grin on her face. She sighed happily and touched the castle wall with a hand. "How I have missed this place."
She shook her head in amusement as the nostalgia wore off, and she headed down to lunch. It was already halfway over when she arrived in the Great Hall, and there were several spots open at the Gryffindor table as she sat down. Sarah was happy that she was no longer getting strange and mystified looks from the students. Her mood and thoughts changed when a flash bulb went off less than half a meter from her face.
"Oh blood hell!" Sarah groaned and rubbed her eyes hard, trying to get the black spots out of her vision. "What in the name of . . .who was. . .I'll kill him! The moment I can see again, their head will be mounted on my wall!"
"Oh, Colin, you had better start runn. . ."
"Don't tell her my name!"
Yet the boy took his advice and started running out of the Great Hall, much to the chagrin of the Gryffindors. When Sarah's vision finally cleared, she saw the sniggering faces of every student at the table, minus Hermione, whose nose was placed firmly in a book entitled Magic and Machinery: How Science Has Ruined Magic. Not seeing her enemy in sight, she grudgingly returned to her meal.
Thankfully, lunch ended without further complications. Sarah caught up with her grandfather as he was about to head out."
"Good afternoon, Sarah. Can I help you with something?" He crosses his hands behind his back, and began walking alongside her.
"Actually, yes. I've looked at that paper you gave me, and I believe your initial assumptions were correct." Dumbledore nodded slowly, and stopped walking. Turning to her, he sighed. "So, they are muggle in origin then."
"I'm afraid so, Grandpa. The marks on the paper clearly indicate that they were made with a ballpoint pen, and not with a quill. But, there is good news."
His eyebrows rose, wondering what could be good about any of this. Then seeing her grin, his perplexity rose. "And what might that be, my dear?"
"Well, since Voldemort's followers abhor anything remotely muggle, there are only two possibilities. One: Somehow a muggle found out about us and sent us that paper, knowing it would unnerve us. Or two: someone's playing a prank on us."
Dumbledore nodded again, absorbing the information. "Let us hope it is the second choice, Sarah."