Disclaimer: Don't own it, never did, just taking them out to play, not
making any money. But leave Katie alone, she's mine. grins
Chapter Five, In Which We Go To Potions
Hermione came to a dead stop five feet from the door to the Potions classroom. Her face was completely white. From inside the room, Kate heard a low, sinister voice. "So, Potter, it seems as though Miss Granger really does do more in this class than keep the inept Mr Longbottom from melting three cauldrons a day. It would appear that she also holds your ability to think."
"Oh no..." Hermione breathed. "I'm late... and I was going to ask him – " She clapped a hand to her mouth, holding back whatever she had been about to say.
Kate glanced at her for a long moment, and made up her mind. She grabbed Hermione by the wrist, scooped up her bag from where it had fallen unnoticed to the floor, and dragged her into the classroom.
hr
Snape was distracted from tearing into Potter by the entrance of the two girls into his classroom. The taller, whom he vaguely recognized from dinner the night before, dropped Hermione Granger's wrist and pushed her towards the empty seat in the back of the room. "Ah, professor, my apologies. I grabbed Hermione to show me around the castle, and I'm afraid I delayed her to your class. I hope she's not too terribly late?" She looked him straight in the eye, a slight smile on her face.
He blinked, slightly surprised by her obvious lack of fear. Of course, she had never been his student, but apparently no-one had told her of his reputation, either. IOr perhaps they have,/I he thought, as her smile started to fade. He felt his eyebrow raise without conscious thought. "Indeed, Miss...?"
"Katharine LaFontaine, sir. Head Girl. Or whatever."
Her face, not quite one he knew, combined with the name, started to tickle the back of his mind with a mostly-forgotten memory. He shelved the thought for the moment, and frowned at her. He glanced at the back of his classroom, where his student had seated herself and was trying very obviously to be invisible. "Thirty points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger, and you should know that it would have been a detention as well had Miss LaFontaine not spoken for you. I will not tolerate tardiness. This is the first day of class, Miss Granger, and I highly recommend to you that you not continue this as a trend for the rest of the year." His voice had dropped, and become very quiet. It was clear that every student had heard him nonetheless.
"Professor? I have a request for you, sir."
His eyes snapped back to the interloper in his classroom. "What is it?" he hissed.
"Well, sir, I was hoping that you might allow me to audit a few of your classes. Professor Daigné at El Dorado recommended your work most highly when I told her I was coming to Hogwarts, and mentioned her great disappointment that she was unable to convince you to be a guest lecturer, especially as she had to make do with that Munkfrede ass. If you are a quarter as good as she said you were, you would blow him out of the water, and it would be in my own best interest to sit in on your class, if you would let me. I promise I'll stay out of the way, if that's what you would like, and I would like you to know that I haven't melted a cauldron in years. And it was only the once, anyway, and it really wasn't my fault." She ran out of words, and stumbled to a stop, biting her lip.
Her sheer nerve at once both infuriated him and intrigued him. He knew of no student who would willingly take his classes were they not either required or recommended for graduation; in his years teaching, he had only had a few students who truly loved the art and science of potions making. Never had he had any student ask to take his class when they would receive no credit from it.
Still, perhaps he would have refused, but he remembered Tenu Daigné very well. He recalled her invitation, also. She had asked for him to come in late August, or perhaps over his Easter holidays. He had not been able to do so, and had not been able to explain why. His position in England was fairly tenuous at the time, and there were other things he had needed to do – things he had been required to do, although he had not wished for them.
She was the reason he knew his way around Kansas City.
And to learn that when he had been forced to refuse her invitation, she had gone and asked that oaf Munkfrede to take his place... The knowledge hit him, like a door slammed in his face. It shook him badly, and only years of ingrained habit kept him from showing an ounce of it to those in front of him, every eye in the classroom fixed firmly upon him, and waiting for his reaction to this extraordinary request.
IBesides, it would appear as though the student at least, if perhaps – maybe – not her teacher, shares my opinion on that dratted Munkfrede...would it be so bad, to have someone who wanted so to learn?/I
He kept his voice very low, although he let the cruelty leak out of it. "Are you so very sure, Miss LaFontaine, that you wish this thing of me? There are many who will think you quite insane for such a request, you know. I myself am not convinced that you are not. Is there so much to gain from watching me take points from these foolish Gryffindors that you would spend hours in the dungeons for no obvious gain?" He held his breath, although he never would have admitted it, waiting for her answer.
She smiled then, a real smile, directed entirely at him. And she laughed, although it was for only a heartbeat. "Silly man, of course it's worth it, you're the most brilliant Potions Master in a century, aren't you? It would be utterly stupid of me to throw such a chance away. And even the teachers who most disliked me would have to grant me that I am not /I stupid." Her eyes flashed at him, and she sobered. "Please, I would like this very much, sir."
He considered her for a moment, and then realized that he'd already made up his mind as soon as she had finished her first sentence. He felt one corner of his mouth crook slightly upwards, no more than a few millimeters, but the furthest it had moved in an unprompted smile in years. IVery well, Miss LaFontaine, you have your chance to prove whatever it is that you need to. I hope, for your sake, that the results are to your liking. /I
He let out a sigh, one that hinted – broadly, with a sledgehammer – of much suffering, and the call for patience that was overused and therefore in minimal reserve. "/I," he spat, "but do not think that if you disrupt my classes you will not be punished. I may not be able to take points from your house, and I may not be able to give you detention, but rest assured that I /I have control in this classroom." She smiled again at him, and quickly seated herself in a dark corner of the room, one from which she would be able to see and hear without being in anyone's way.
INow why did I say that?/I he found himself wondering. Perhaps she unnerved him more than he had thought. He narrowed his eyes, frowning at his class, who quickly and overindustriously returned to work.
hr
Kate sat and silently laughed to herself at the antics of the students as they tried to avoid Snape's gaze by a strange combination of productivity and fear. It reminded her of a bumper sticker she had once seen – "Jesus Is Coming! (Look Busy!)" She watched as he swept back to the front of the classroom, a scowl on his face. He started writing on the board, clearly having interrupted himself in the middle of the instructions for a potion to berate Harry before she and Mina had come into the room.
She contemplated the board for a moment, and glanced at the students, most of whom were now taking notes. Although a few seemed to have dicta-quills, the rest appeared to be writing laboriously with quills. IScrew /I Kate thought with a snort. She did not care for having her hand all cramped from writing, and the dicta-quills looked messy, not to mention slow. She thought for a moment, and realized that she'd started idly fiddling with her new toy, the pager end of her intercom system. She told herself that she was not tempted to play Bejeweled. Really.
A memory froze her for a moment, then, and was followed by an evil grin. She pulled out a pen from her bag and thought for a moment, and quietly Transfigured it into a small three-legged stand. She looked at her pager for a moment, and spoke a charm over it as well, and then set her new camera phone in its tripod, pointed it at Snape, and told it to begin recording. She sat back then, to listen fully. She had never been any good at taking notes and paying attention at the same time.
Chapter Five, In Which We Go To Potions
Hermione came to a dead stop five feet from the door to the Potions classroom. Her face was completely white. From inside the room, Kate heard a low, sinister voice. "So, Potter, it seems as though Miss Granger really does do more in this class than keep the inept Mr Longbottom from melting three cauldrons a day. It would appear that she also holds your ability to think."
"Oh no..." Hermione breathed. "I'm late... and I was going to ask him – " She clapped a hand to her mouth, holding back whatever she had been about to say.
Kate glanced at her for a long moment, and made up her mind. She grabbed Hermione by the wrist, scooped up her bag from where it had fallen unnoticed to the floor, and dragged her into the classroom.
hr
Snape was distracted from tearing into Potter by the entrance of the two girls into his classroom. The taller, whom he vaguely recognized from dinner the night before, dropped Hermione Granger's wrist and pushed her towards the empty seat in the back of the room. "Ah, professor, my apologies. I grabbed Hermione to show me around the castle, and I'm afraid I delayed her to your class. I hope she's not too terribly late?" She looked him straight in the eye, a slight smile on her face.
He blinked, slightly surprised by her obvious lack of fear. Of course, she had never been his student, but apparently no-one had told her of his reputation, either. IOr perhaps they have,/I he thought, as her smile started to fade. He felt his eyebrow raise without conscious thought. "Indeed, Miss...?"
"Katharine LaFontaine, sir. Head Girl. Or whatever."
Her face, not quite one he knew, combined with the name, started to tickle the back of his mind with a mostly-forgotten memory. He shelved the thought for the moment, and frowned at her. He glanced at the back of his classroom, where his student had seated herself and was trying very obviously to be invisible. "Thirty points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger, and you should know that it would have been a detention as well had Miss LaFontaine not spoken for you. I will not tolerate tardiness. This is the first day of class, Miss Granger, and I highly recommend to you that you not continue this as a trend for the rest of the year." His voice had dropped, and become very quiet. It was clear that every student had heard him nonetheless.
"Professor? I have a request for you, sir."
His eyes snapped back to the interloper in his classroom. "What is it?" he hissed.
"Well, sir, I was hoping that you might allow me to audit a few of your classes. Professor Daigné at El Dorado recommended your work most highly when I told her I was coming to Hogwarts, and mentioned her great disappointment that she was unable to convince you to be a guest lecturer, especially as she had to make do with that Munkfrede ass. If you are a quarter as good as she said you were, you would blow him out of the water, and it would be in my own best interest to sit in on your class, if you would let me. I promise I'll stay out of the way, if that's what you would like, and I would like you to know that I haven't melted a cauldron in years. And it was only the once, anyway, and it really wasn't my fault." She ran out of words, and stumbled to a stop, biting her lip.
Her sheer nerve at once both infuriated him and intrigued him. He knew of no student who would willingly take his classes were they not either required or recommended for graduation; in his years teaching, he had only had a few students who truly loved the art and science of potions making. Never had he had any student ask to take his class when they would receive no credit from it.
Still, perhaps he would have refused, but he remembered Tenu Daigné very well. He recalled her invitation, also. She had asked for him to come in late August, or perhaps over his Easter holidays. He had not been able to do so, and had not been able to explain why. His position in England was fairly tenuous at the time, and there were other things he had needed to do – things he had been required to do, although he had not wished for them.
She was the reason he knew his way around Kansas City.
And to learn that when he had been forced to refuse her invitation, she had gone and asked that oaf Munkfrede to take his place... The knowledge hit him, like a door slammed in his face. It shook him badly, and only years of ingrained habit kept him from showing an ounce of it to those in front of him, every eye in the classroom fixed firmly upon him, and waiting for his reaction to this extraordinary request.
IBesides, it would appear as though the student at least, if perhaps – maybe – not her teacher, shares my opinion on that dratted Munkfrede...would it be so bad, to have someone who wanted so to learn?/I
He kept his voice very low, although he let the cruelty leak out of it. "Are you so very sure, Miss LaFontaine, that you wish this thing of me? There are many who will think you quite insane for such a request, you know. I myself am not convinced that you are not. Is there so much to gain from watching me take points from these foolish Gryffindors that you would spend hours in the dungeons for no obvious gain?" He held his breath, although he never would have admitted it, waiting for her answer.
She smiled then, a real smile, directed entirely at him. And she laughed, although it was for only a heartbeat. "Silly man, of course it's worth it, you're the most brilliant Potions Master in a century, aren't you? It would be utterly stupid of me to throw such a chance away. And even the teachers who most disliked me would have to grant me that I am not /I stupid." Her eyes flashed at him, and she sobered. "Please, I would like this very much, sir."
He considered her for a moment, and then realized that he'd already made up his mind as soon as she had finished her first sentence. He felt one corner of his mouth crook slightly upwards, no more than a few millimeters, but the furthest it had moved in an unprompted smile in years. IVery well, Miss LaFontaine, you have your chance to prove whatever it is that you need to. I hope, for your sake, that the results are to your liking. /I
He let out a sigh, one that hinted – broadly, with a sledgehammer – of much suffering, and the call for patience that was overused and therefore in minimal reserve. "/I," he spat, "but do not think that if you disrupt my classes you will not be punished. I may not be able to take points from your house, and I may not be able to give you detention, but rest assured that I /I have control in this classroom." She smiled again at him, and quickly seated herself in a dark corner of the room, one from which she would be able to see and hear without being in anyone's way.
INow why did I say that?/I he found himself wondering. Perhaps she unnerved him more than he had thought. He narrowed his eyes, frowning at his class, who quickly and overindustriously returned to work.
hr
Kate sat and silently laughed to herself at the antics of the students as they tried to avoid Snape's gaze by a strange combination of productivity and fear. It reminded her of a bumper sticker she had once seen – "Jesus Is Coming! (Look Busy!)" She watched as he swept back to the front of the classroom, a scowl on his face. He started writing on the board, clearly having interrupted himself in the middle of the instructions for a potion to berate Harry before she and Mina had come into the room.
She contemplated the board for a moment, and glanced at the students, most of whom were now taking notes. Although a few seemed to have dicta-quills, the rest appeared to be writing laboriously with quills. IScrew /I Kate thought with a snort. She did not care for having her hand all cramped from writing, and the dicta-quills looked messy, not to mention slow. She thought for a moment, and realized that she'd started idly fiddling with her new toy, the pager end of her intercom system. She told herself that she was not tempted to play Bejeweled. Really.
A memory froze her for a moment, then, and was followed by an evil grin. She pulled out a pen from her bag and thought for a moment, and quietly Transfigured it into a small three-legged stand. She looked at her pager for a moment, and spoke a charm over it as well, and then set her new camera phone in its tripod, pointed it at Snape, and told it to begin recording. She sat back then, to listen fully. She had never been any good at taking notes and paying attention at the same time.