Title: Looking for Magic in All the Right Plac

Chapter Three: That Strange Prickling Feeling

Genre: Humour, Romance, and my response to the WIKTT 'Summer School Challenge.' To see complete rules, go to 'When I Kissed the Teacher' Files Challenge Files, (Closed Challenges).

Rating: PG-13

Warning: Occasional poetry!

Disclaimer: Please see Chapter One. Some chapters have Author's Notes for acknowledgements when needed.


Chapter Three: That Strange Prickling Feeling

After dragging his Monday-morning summer school class through the periodic table and bashing their hard little heads against the indescribably difficult concepts of acid and alkali, Snape was feeling discouraged about his brand-new career as a chemistry teacher. He was almost looking forward to the upcoming evening of poetry. But just after dismissing his class, and whilst he was dumping an armful of quizzes on his desk, a discreet 'Erm, Professor' from behind made him start.

He turned, scowling, to see Hermione Granger standing a few feet from him. She was holding a parchment and looking uncharacteristically smug.

'Yes?' he snapped.

She held out the parchment. 'My Honours project proposal. You asked me to hand it in today.'

Snape's scowl vanished. 'Oh. Of course,' he said, and held out his hand for the parchment. 'Thank you, Miss Granger.'

Her face fell. 'Aren't you going to look at it, Professor?'

He noticed he could actually see her face for a change. Her wild chestnut hair was pulled back and neatly contained at the nape of her neck. It made her look older.

'Now?'

'If you could, please. I'd really like to know what you think. If you approve, I can start my research right away.'

He gave her a long, level look, and after a moment she dropped her eyes.

'Very well. Take a seat.' He indicated one of the benches, and he settled himself behind his desk, unfurling her parchment. He frowned at the messy handwriting. She noticed his expression.

'I'm sorry, Professor. My Enscribing Quill's stopped working, and my own handwriting's appalling. I wish I could use my mother's laptop.'

'Your mother's--what?' Snape wasn't sure whether to be shocked or titillated.

'Erm--it would take too long to explain. Sorry,' said Hermione, and he saw with amusement that she was blushing. Interesting. He began skimming her proposal with the intention of coming up with a quick opinion and sending her on her way.

Then he stopped skimming and started reading. Merlin's skullcap! Had the girl somehow read his mind? She was proposing to analyse the base ingredients of several formerly magical healing potions to determine what, if anything, was unique about their molecular structure and interactions. Exactly what he'd been considering. But she seemed to be taking his musings much farther. For one thing--what did she mean by. . .?

'. . .commercial applications?' he asked, and realised he'd spoken aloud.

'Oh. What I mean is that if we--er, you--can successfully reproduce working non-magical versions of these potions, you may be able to sell them to Muggle companies. For Muggle currency.'

'Really?' said Snape, his brows creasing. 'I've always thought that the results of academic research should be freely shared.'

'Well,' said Hermione uncomfortably. 'Of course. But in the Muggle world, many schools have to rely on private funds to get by, so researchers often sell their ideas.'

'How uncivilised. But putting that aside for now,' said Snape, leaning back in his chair. 'I believe your proposal has some merit, Miss Granger, and I'm willing to consider it. In the meantime, you have my permission to make a start on your reading-list.'

Hermione beamed, her brown eyes shining with pleasure. 'Thank you so much, Professor. I'm really looking forward to working with you!' She bounced to her feet, slung her bag over her shoulder, and almost flew out of the classroom, leaving Snape feeling discombobulated.

Had any student ever said that to him, or smiled at him like that?

The world must indeed be falling apart.

==============

On Tuesday evening, Harry persuaded Hermione and Ron to show up at Lupin's classroom a few minutes early. 'I want a front-row seat when Lupin flattens Snape,' said Harry firmly, steering his friends to a bench close to the centre of the room.

'What makes you think Snape's going to get flattened?' said Hermione, annoyed.

'Oh, sorry. I forgot we're not allowed to say anything bad about your new pet teacher,' Ron smirked.

'Ron, I'd tell you to grow up if that weren't completely impossible.' Hermione slammed her books down on the table and plopped herself on the bench.

In groups of two or three, the other seventh years straggled in. Draco and his little gang, looking insufferably smug, settled themselves opposite Hermione and the boys.

'What drugs are they on?' muttered Ron.

'They think Snape's here to put Lupin in his place and they're expecting to enjoy the show,' said Harry, his green eyes fixed on Draco.

'I'd give anything now to slam a good hex on those Slytherins,' said Ron mournfully.

Lupin came into the room and moved to the centre. As the students fell silent, Snape entered the classroom, his face sullen as usual.

'Professor Snape! Please join me,' said Lupin. Snape approached him and stopped a few feet away. The two former wizards looked at each other expressionlessly. Then Lupin pulled his wand out of his sleeve and raised it.

'Wingardium Leviosa!' He waved his wand at Snape. Hermione suppressed a gasp.

But Snape did not levitate so much as an inch. He folded his arms and smirked at Lupin, who waved his wand again and repeated the spell. Still nothing.

Then Lupin turned to face Harry, Ron, and Hermione, pointing his wand straight at the young woman. 'Wingardium Leviosa!' One of Hermione's books flopped once or twice on the table like a dead fish, but Hermione herself didn't budge.

'Well.' Lupin put his wand away. 'I hope you're all convinced that magic spells--that is, our usual means of attack and defense--are by now almost completely ineffective.'

'So why are we here in a DADA class . . . sir?' said Draco, folding his arms. Harry glared at him.

'Besides reinforcing your knowledge of Muggle culture--a good form of self-defense for all of us nowadays--we've been invited to test a theory about another possible form of power,' said Lupin, giving Draco a cool glance.

'If you have anything more urgent to attend to, Mr. Malfoy, you have my permission to leave,' Snape added silkily.

Draco's eyes shifted to Goyle and to Pansy, each seated beside him. They looked down. Glaring at Snape, Draco put his arms on the table before him.

'If there are no other comments . . .?' said Lupin mildly. 'Right. On with the show. Professor Snape has agreed to attend this class at our Headmaster's invitation, and will provide support for our two guests.' Snape threw Lupin a dark glance, which the DADA professor ignored. 'Our two guest lecturers arrived at Hogwarts only just today, and I'm sure they're a bit tired, so I'm very pleased to see them here tonight. Mr. Sean McCourt and Dr. Maxine Jones.' Lupin gestured to the back of the classroom.

'Doctor?' said Hermione in a low voice as all the students craned their necks. Two Muggles rose from the bench where they'd been quietly sitting and made their way down the shallow steps to the centre of the room. Except for his piercing blue eyes, the Irishman was very ordinary looking: middle-aged, average height, short dark hair, wearing worn brown corduroys and a seedy looking green jumper. The British-American poet, however, was striking in the extreme: as tall as Snape, her graying hair cropped to the exact shape of her lovely head, she wore a turquoise robe that set off her coffee-coloured skin and large black eyes.

As this queenly personage brushed past Hermione and the two boys, Padma, sitting just behind, leant forward and whispered in Hermione's ear--'Doctor, as in PhD. Jonathan says she teaches at something called a liberal arts college in Vermont.'

'Who's Jonathan?' said Hermione.

'My boyfriend,' Padma said, with a hint of a giggle.

McCourt and Jones turned to face the students. The poet glanced at the novelist with a slight smile. He nodded. Maxine Jones raised her proud head, took a breath, and filled the entire room with her voice:

'By this flame, branded
By this water, cleansed,
By earth, unburied,
By air, released.

The spiteful shadow is trimmed from your heel,
The nine wounds from your mother's whip
are washed from your blood,
Your dark of father is filled with father love.

By this star, enlightened,
By night, unchained,
By laughter, reclaimed,
By this kiss, set free.'

Hermione felt the hairs rise on her arms and the back of her neck, as if power were crawling over her skin. Snape, she saw, was standing very still, his eyes fixed intently on the woman in turquoise. Hermione glanced at Harry and Ron. They were looking polite but a bit puzzled.

'This poem,' said Jones, in a quieter, more normal voice, 'is part of a longer work that I call "Spell to Open a Closed Heart." It's meant to be spoken aloud, like an incantation.'

Snape, now flicking his gaze across the rows of students, was startled to see Hermione staring at him. As their eyes locked, she looked away.

'As with any spell or charm,' said Lupin, 'you must not only speak it aloud, but you must also muster the emotional energy, the will, and the belief that when you speak it, something will happen.'

McCourt now spoke for the first time. His light, musical voice also managed to fill the room. 'I notice you've brought the books of poems and stories Doctor Jones and I recommended. But--from now on, we don't want you to bring any books to this class. We'll set readings for you, and we'll be asking you to memorise at least one poem for each class.' McCourt smiled as one or two soft groans greeted this announcement. 'We understand from Professor Lupin that you've already had years of experience remembering spells. So this should be a piece of cake.'

'Did any of you feel anything when I spoke my poem?' Jones asked. Dead silence fell. When her amused glance lingered on Harry, Ron, and Hermione, the boys shuffled their feet and stared at the floor. But Hermione tentatively raised her hand.

'Yes?' said Jones.

'Erm--I felt a sort of prickling at the back of my neck.'

'Yeah--so did I,' said another voice a few feet away. A few other students nodded, and one or two muttered 'Yeah,' or 'Me, too.'

'Have you felt that before?' asked Jones.

'Yes,' said Hermione. 'When casting spells. Especially powerful ones.'

Harry and Ron stared at her. 'Cripes,' said Ron softly. Jones just smiled.

'What I'm asking you to think about,' said Lupin, 'is this: even if forms of magic we're familiar with appear to be vanishing, other forms of power may still be accessible to us.'

For a few seconds, the students stared at Lupin, Jones, and McCourt. Then the former leader of Dumbledore's Army raised his hand. Snape scowled, but Lupin nodded.

'Tell us more about this power,' said Harry Potter.

At this show of open-mindedness, Lupin let out a quiet breath of relief. He'd not been at all certain how this battle-hardened bunch would react to the idea of having to learn about poetry. It seemed so--well, impractical.

But one thing was certain: he, Snape, and the bemused Muggles now had their work cut out for them.

Author's Note:

Maxine Jones' 'Spell to Open a Closed Heart' is adapted from Jeni Couzyn's poem 'Spell to Soften the Hard Heart of a Woman.' Born in 1942, Couzyn now lives in England.