Potions, What Would a Girl do without it?
By Slave4Severus
Disclaimer: If you still think I own any of it then you are just daft! Except of course Alanna and her family….and that Professor…and..well you know..LOL
"That was pretty wicked in there," Ron grinned down at her as they walked through the Entrance Hall toward the double doors.
Alanna gave him a small smile as he opened one of the doors that lead to the grounds. A rush of crisp, cool air greeted them, along with a cloudless, deep blue sky. The wind and the sun played along the treetops in the distance. Alanna closed her eyes and inhaled the autumn air deeply. It felt like ages since she enjoyed a day outside and the fragrant air with such relish.
As they all walked down to where the class was held, Alanna found herself sandwiched by the two young men, who proceeded to talk about a type of sport over her head. She was thankful that they did not pay close attention to her trembling hands as she tucked a few strands of her hair behind her ear. All of a sudden, she felt the hair on the back of her neck rise, as though somebody was staring at her. With a quick look over her shoulder, she saw two rather burly looking guys behind them. Their robes were trimmed with the same green fabric as the Head Boy's had been, their expression murderous as they proceeded to crack their knuckles in a silent threat.
She furrowed her brow at the peculiar display and kept on walking, listening to Ron and Harry talk about broomsticks.
One minute she was walking down a meadow to a small hut and in the next, she found herself on the ground staring up into big, brown eyes and a pink tongue. She scrunched up her nose and giggled loudly as the dog proceeded to lick her face and neck, making little whining noises.
"Fang! Geroff her!" Ron pulled the boarhound from Alanna's fallen body; the dog promptly lunged once more while Harry pulled her disheveled form from the ground.
"We knew he was the friendly type, but I've never seen him react like this," Harry watched Ron struggle with the beast, as it continued barking excitedly at Alanna.
Cleaning off her hands on her robes, she looked down at the animal with a brilliant smile, prompting Ron to let go of it in surprise. Steeling herself for the impact, she leaned down and met him half way, petting the furiously licking dog while cooing soft endearments.
"Fang!" A booming voice interrupted her petting. The dog perked his big ears and turned his body halfway to gaze up at his very, very tall master.
"You know bet'er than tha'!" He gruffly said, Fang running to the side of his master.
"Hagrid, this is Alanna Flint," Harry made the introductions, while she whispered a cleaning spell over her muddy robes.
"Pleased to meet yeh," he shook her small hand with a little squeeze. "I've heard yeh enjoy the beasties?"
Alanna smiled up at him. "Yes, sir."
"Well, then yeh in for a treat," a smug smile formed on his ruddy face, turning his eyes into merry slits.
"Allrigh' you lot, get summat closer now," he called out to the rest of the class, as they gathered around a small clearing beside a huge pumpkin patch. In the middle of the clearing burned a rather big magical bonfire, its flames turning an assorted array of colours; the base glowed hot blood red.
"Harry I need you to come a bi' closer and call 'em for us. They're a wee shy now." Hagrid urged Harry to come closer to the fire, the rest of the class watching him apprehensively in a semi-circle.
In a fluid motion, Harry kneeled a few feet from the fire. "Saaaaayaaaccchhhhaasssasshheeeethhh."
Alanna froze, staring down at him in disbelief; if she had not heard it with her own ears, she would not have believed it. Parselmouths were very rare and mostly associated with dark wizards. She hated to admit it, but felt a twinge of something that could have been identified as jealousy.
Her view shifted slightly as a small grey head with ruby red eyes poked out of the fire.
"Ashwinder," she breathed softly and watched a small ash coloured serpent slither slowly toward Harry.
"This is wha' yeh call an Ashwinder. Yeh have probably heard abou' them in yer potions class. Their eggs are verra hot and can burn dow' houses summat fierce."
The Ashwinder had finally slithered far enough to encounter a hissing Harry. Alanna was fascinated by their interaction, the small snake forking its tiny tongue at his outstretched hand; something however caught the creature's attention behind Harry. With a soft hiss, it bypassed the young Parselmouth and aimed straight for Alanna's feet.
Harry turned with a surprised look that settled on her crouching form, the Ashwinder having reached its destination. The serpent stealthily slithered up her outstretched hand and under her robes where it coiled around her elbow, the tiny red eyes looking out from the darkness.
"All righ', everyone else gather roun' the fire and coax out yehr own Ashwinder. Your assignment is ter find them a good hidin' place for them to lay their eggs at. Be verra careful no' to touch the eggs! Professor Snape will be freezin' them a' the proper temperature," Hagrid ushered the remaining students, Ron included, to the magical fire where multiple Ashwinders have come from the fire, ready to lay their precious eggs.
Alanna felt the small tickle of the snake's tongue and laughed softly at its antics, carefully pulling up her sleeve and stroking its slick, grey scales.
"Do they always do that?" Harry had moved up closer to her and stroked the head of the serpent.
Alanna knew what he meant. "Yes, they do. Since I have been a toddler every type of animal has taken a liking to me," the snake hissed softly and twined itself between her fingers.
"Have you been always able to do that?" She looked up into his green eyes.
"I was not aware that I was a Parselmouth until I was about eleven years old, and even then I was not aware of speaking a different language," he smiled a bit and listened to the soft hissing of the snake.
"What is he saying?" She watched it slither toward her shoulder, before it hid under her mass of hair, draping itself around her neck.
"She is telling me how special you are," his voice had lowered as he stepped closer, his eyes falling down to the base of her neck.
Alanna swallowed heavily. "Oh?"
"Yes," he said softly, raising his hand and touching…the snake. Alanna's pulse rate raced, staring up into his eyes that were so very close to her own. She did not even react to the soft hiss right by her ear, Harry however blinked and stepped back two steps.
"Are they good things?" she asked breathlessly.
He cocked his head to the side and smiled sweetly, "Would there be bad things if I'd ask?"
'Merlin she hoped not!'
"Should we go find a secluded spot for her?" She retrieved the wiggling Ashwinder from her neck and let it slither down her other hand toward Harry. Careful not to touch her, he let the snake slide onto his outstretched arm. Alanna walked in front of him, searching for their Ashwinders perfect egg laying spot.
"Why did you feel the urge to go to her?" He asked her quietly.
"Ssshe iss magic," she replied matter-of-factly.
"We are all magic here."
"Thisss isss different magic. Ssssheee possesssses animal magic."
Harry furrowed his brow. "Is it like my magic?"
The Ashwinder became inpatient with him, "No, you talk to usss. Ssshe hasss animal magic. It isss a powerful innate feeling of trussst her esssssence ssignalss to uss."
"Is this a dark type of magic?" Harry had to make sure.
"No. Her gift isss pure," the snake coiled itself around his wrist and squeezed a bit.
Harry knew through experience that animals did not trust easily, always being weary of human contact, especially serpents. Alanna possessing a certain type of inner light that naturally attracted them said a lot about her character.
"How about this spot?"
Harry looked up and saw her kneeling before a small space between two boulders that seemed to be perfect for the Ashwinder, who hissed with appreciation. He kneeled opposite of her and let the snake wind itself to the ground, where it promptly slithered up to Alanna, hissing at her and blinking its little red eyes. After another rub from her fingers, the snake made its way into the dark alcove.
"What did she say?" Alanna asked him seriously.
"She said how fortunate she was to have met a human such as yourself before she died," Harry said softly. "And she wants you to have three of her eggs as a gift…her last wish."
She swallowed down her pity for the small creature.
"I will honour them appropriately."
Harry and Alanna held their silent vigil until a soft red glow emerged from the niche. She carefully got on her stomach and peered into the darkness, where the small form of the lifeless Ashwinder had curled itself around her burning nest of eggs. Harry got down next to her and pulled out his wand, before he could speak the levitating incantation, however, she touched the tip of his wand.
"No, let me…" her eyes never left the eggs as she pulled forth her own wand. With a small swish and a soft incantation, she separated three eggs from the nest. Her left hand forged through the pocked of her robes bringing forth the larger vial that had harboured her nutrient potion from this morning.
"Could you scurgify this for me Harry?"
He did without question and watched her work. With a soft incantation "congelare suptile" the eggs froze in mid air, turning from fire red to a light pink. He held out the vial in which she placed the eggs, corking it quickly and handing it to her. She glanced at them and replaced the vial in her pocket.
Alanna continued to levitate the eggs from their hiding place.
"You left one behind," Harry mentioned.
"Leave her one egg; she gave her life for them. She deserves not to have died for potion ingredients alone."
They both got up from their feet, Harry casting the cleansing spell on both of them while Alanna levitated the precious cargo toward Hagrid, who stood by the magical fire placing the gathered eggs into a fireproof container.
"Alrigh' now, class dismissed. Good work all o' yeh."
The students retrieved their things and headed off to the castle for the noon meal, all except for Ron, Harry, and Alanna, who helped Hagrid, extinguish the fire and clean up the clearing.
"That was a very informative class, Professor, thank you," Alanna smiled at him before she turned and walked toward the castle herself, leaving the three men behind.
"Did yeh hear tha'? Thank me, she did," Hagrid sniffled a little and walked toward his hut where Fang waited for him.
"She's a remarkable woman, isn't she," Ron said watching the sway of her hips as she walked up the slope of the meadow.
"You know what, Ron?" Harry watched her departure as well, "You have impeccable taste in women."
Ron grinned at him like a fool.
"Too bad she is your sister."
Harry ran before Ron could whack him upside the head for his comment, laughing hard as they ran to catch up with Alanna.
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The Great Hall was packed with students and teachers alike, the noise level reaching a medium sized roar. Ron preceded them, of course, opening one of the double doors and walking over to the Gryffindor table. Alanna stopped before reaching it and took a deep, steadying breath.
"Are you going to be alright?" Harry asked her softly.
"I hope I will," Alanna sighed to herself, "I am not used to hordes of people…staring," she wrung her hands unconsciously.
"Never tell anyone that I told you this, or I may have to hex you," Harry looked down at her seriously. "Someone once said to me 'Celebrity is as celebrity does,' if you do not draw attention to yourself you will be fine," with those words, he pushed a confused Alanna into the Hall.
The clatter of silver on porcelain plates all but vanished, as did most of the conversation; everyone watching the journey of the famous pair. Alanna did her best to keep her chin up, homing in on a familiar face in the sea of strangers that made up her house table: Hermione, who smiled at her confidently nodding at Harry over her shoulder.
She quickly took the seat next to her roommate and deposited her bag beneath the table. Most of the chatter had returned to its previous decibel, making her feel confident in looking up from her lap. Harry, again, sat across from her smiling with assurance, while Ron gave her a little wink of courage. She returned their smile and helped herself to a scoop of Cottage pie and a Cornish pasty.
"Did you have a good class, Alanna?" Hermione was in the process of slicing a big, red apple.
"Yes, we had the pleasure of harvesting Ashwinder eggs. Rather fascinating, really."
"Yea you missed a good class Hermione," Seamus said two seats down, "there are snakes in existence that don't fancy Harry."
Alanna looked down at the boy who spoke with interest.
"Seamus Finnigan," he extended his hand over another boy's plate, and she shook it, "and this here is Neville Longbottom and Dean Thomas over there."
Alanna made a little wave at the other two who smiled back and nodded, something in her peripheral vision caught her eye however, forcing her to glance up at the staff table. There he was, all shrouded in blackness a menacing scowl overpowering his features, and staring right at her.
Oh. Sweet. Merlin. In the light of day, the man looked older than Methuselah! He had to be at least twenty years her senior. The heat of embarrassment crept up into her face.
Perhaps he was the sort of man only to be viewed by the light of the catacombs.
An evil little smirk materialized on his lips and she furrowed her brow in vexation. There was something about him that…
"You weren't eating that, were you?" Ron grabbed the Cornish pasty from her plate, effectively severing her connection with Severus.
"You know those are made with real Cornish Pixies," she said without hesitation.
Everyone at the table that was within hearing distance stopped and watched Ron bring the pasty to his mouth, stopping at her declaration. A few breathless seconds later the entire group started laughing and slapping Ron on the back, mocking him to take a bite of 'blue blighters.' He turned a bright red and placed the pasty back on her plate with a manly shrug, mumbling about having 'lost his appetite.' Alanna raised her brow at him in challenge.
"I'll get you back for that one," he smiled evilly at her.
"Great, I am looking forward to it," she replied smoothly, getting up from her seat with her bag in hand.
"I need to go upstairs before potions; would you like to accompany me?" Hermione asked gathering her own belongings.
"You read my mind," she said and followed her toward the doors, waving at the rest of the group.
A short while later, they both emerged from the Head's common room, Hermione sporting a full bag of books and Alanna carrying three different types of potion tomes in her arms.
"Do you think that the professor will have time to talk to me about my extra work in his field?" Alanna asked eagerly.
"I don't see why not. He is difficult, mind you, and very pigheaded in his ways, but he always has an ear for new theories," Hermione replied, not wanting to dishearten her enthusiasm.
"A real Potions Master," Alanna mumbled under her breath.
Hermione had heard and smiled at the eagerness, she could not even remember the last time the word potions did not accompany a plethora of pained groans and 'greasy git' comments. To a degree, Alanna reminded her of a muggle student, experiencing things for the very first time, the fact that she was a pureblooded made this situation seem surreal.
With hurried steps, they descended the stairs into the dungeon, coming precariously close to arriving late. Alanna breathed in the familiar air and tried to calm her beating heart. She hoped they would cover the Soul-resurrection potion this term, the twenty parchment essay she completed a few weeks ago burning a hole into her satchel.
The sconces were not lit in their green hue of night, but sparkled a rich yellow colour that lit their way adequately as they reached the door to the classroom, left ajar only just.
They silently walked into the classroom, Alanna making up the rear and closing the door quietly behind her.
She could feel the eyes burning into her before she had turned to face the room. With a mounting sense of dread, she turned her body, seeking out their origin.
A loud crack echoed through the room as Alanna's books dropped to the floor.
"Ah, Miss Flint," he said softly. "Our new – celebrity Gryffindor," he said the last word with so much disgust that Alanna could feel indignation rise up from the pit of her fluttering stomach.
He was seated like the black clad Angel of Death at his desk at the front of the class, a look of pure loathing on his features.
"It seems you have competition in the art of Fame, Potter. Five points from Gryffindor for attempting a grand entrance into my class, Miss Flint. Now, pick up your books and seat yourself next to Mr. Longbottom," he sneered maliciously.
Alanna silently retrieved her wand to levitate her books to her assigned seat.
"Manually, Miss Flint. There will be no foolish wand waving here."
A soft snicker could be heard from the handful of Gryffindors in the class. His head snapped to their faces, his eyes black slits of suspicion, while Alanna picked up her books from the floor.
Straightening she searched out the face that belonged to Mr. Longbottom and found a quivering hand toward the back signal her to the empty chair next to him. 'Neville' she thought and made her way through the seated row of students to her seat.
"Now that you have wasted five minutes of class time with your clumsiness let me introduce myself," he fluidly rose from his chair and walked around his desk, leaning against it with crossed arms.
"My name is Professor Snape, resident Potions Master of Hogwarts. You will address me accordingly when you speak, is that understood?"
Alanna gritted her teeth and nodded.
"Is that understood?" his voice cut through the silence.
"Yes, sir, Professor Snape."
If his sneer could turn any crueler, it did then. "I do not believe I like your attitude Miss Flint." The students around her held their breath in fear what would come next. Alanna only stared at that familiar face of the man she thought to be the caretaker. All planes and angles, his age not apparent in the dim light of the dungeons and her body reacting to that insufferably sarcastic 'battle' they were having.
"Ten points for your cheek," with those words he dismissed her as if she were rancid slab of butter.
Her anger was beginning to bubble up into her pale face. 'How dare he try to lord his station over me this way.'
"I do not want any further interruptions from anyone for the rest of class. I have had my fill of insufferable half-wits," Professor Snape rounded his desk and pointed at the small blackboard, indicating them to begin their potions.
Alanna was furious with the man, her thoughts on telling him anything of what she had researched flying swiftly out of the non-existent window. Why did it have to be him? She would never be able to concentrate on her brewing now with him stalking around the room.
"Would you like for me to bring you the ingredients?" Neville asked her shyly in a hushed voice.
"Silence, Mr. Longbottom!"
Alanna narrowed her eyes at his turned back and looked over at Neville, squeezing his hand reassuringly, before both got to their feet to retrieve their ingredients. She passed the blackboard on her way and stared at the potion that the class would attempt to brew.
Vanishing Serum.
Alanna's brows quickly came in contact with her hairline. Was he serious? She had studied and perfected that potion three years ago, Professor Correlius having stressed its importance to only placing an invisibility charm on oneself. She should have taken his advice last night when she had been found out. The potion would not have given her away, as the spell had.
"Is there a problem with your assignment, Miss Flint? Or do you make it a habit of gaping like a fish?" He had turned from the blackboard and graced her with a cold look down his crooked nose.
She returned his icy stare, unblinkingly. "No, sir."
"Is it that you need an engraved invitation to begin your brewing? Or are you too inept to read as well?" He smirked at his own jibe.
With a final look at his person, she moved to the school stores in search of ingredients. She walked into the dimly lit room as Neville came out smiling nervously at her. Proceeding to look up the alphabetized vials beginning with moonstones, picking up the jar and tilting it to the light, and finally scrutinizing its contents, finding it lacking.
There were only two moonstones left in the receptacle: their colouring and size not enough to brew the potion to her satisfaction. She replaced the jar and picked up the vial with the shredded male boomslang skin, the green texture differing greatly from the brown female. With an expert eye, she approved of the ingredient and moved on to the next: Peruvian Vipertooth scales. Thankfully, these looked like a fresh specimen, although the Jobberknoll blood and the blackened mandrake root could have been replaced a few months ago.
Alanna left the stores with two ingredients and made her way to her station.
"I do not know who taught you how to brew potions, Miss Flint, but at Hogwarts we require the full ingredient list to brew a potion. Would you care to explain why you are only carrying two of the five ingredients listed?"
Alanna stopped and turned to look at him. "I would rather not say, sir."
"Please, enlighten us. Unless of course you plan to use…other means…to produce the proper potion," a few people that she could identify as Slytherins snickered at this.
"If you must know, Professor Snape, your ingredients are not fresh enough to be used effectively for any potion."
The smirk melted from his face, replacing itself with a blank expression with glowing coals for eyes. She had accomplished a goal of most students that were not Slytherins: utterly infuriating the Potions Master. One could have heard a pin drop inside the classroom and would have been deafened by the sound. Hermione closed her eyes and groaned to herself, while Harry and Ron prayed that Alanna would not be killed by Snape's temper.
"If you refuse to use the school stores for your assignment you will have to leave this classroom," he threatened.
Alanna raised a brow. "Not to worry, Professor, I have the ingredients needed. Unless of course you would like me to come back later and finish my potion after school hours," she hoped he remembered the Headmaster's allowance of using his facilities.
"Ten more points from Gryffindor for talking back, Miss Flint. Now get to work."
She turned and quickly took her seat, removing a small case of vials from her bag, enlarging it under her table with her wand. She lifted the darkly stained box onto the table's surface, carefully opening it and searching for the proper ingredients, holding them up to the light as well to assure herself of their potency. Satisfied she removed a beautifully coloured moonstone, fresh mandrake root, and a full vial of Jobberknoll blood.
Neville stared in awe at the rows of small vials, rapidly becoming interested in the rarer bottles of dried plant essence.
With a practiced flick of her wrist, she ignited the fire beneath the cauldron placing the moonstone into the center of the distilled water. A few minutes past and the water bubbled happily within, emitting multi-coloured steam. She casually glanced at Neville, watching his fumes turn a nasty mud colour, and quickly moved over to her potions 'kit', getting another moonstone to replace the sad excuse he was working with.
Without saying a word, she placed the stone on the table between them and pushed it toward his side. Thankfully, Neville understood immediately and quickly took his cauldron off the fire, carrying it to the front of the classroom where two huge washbasins were located.
"What do you think you are doing, Mr. Longbottom?" Professor Snape looked up from his grading and pierced the boy with his black eyes.
"Rrr..rebrewing my potion, sir," he explained feebly.
Within seconds, the Potions Master loomed dangerously over Neville's cauldron, judging for himself if the liquid had to be discarded.
"Your potion was progressing adequately…" Neville looked up at him in surprise, "now, however, your results will be jaded having taken your cauldron from the fire. You would think that after six and a half years you would get that into your thick skull, Longbottom."
Neville visibly cowered from the professor.
"Go back to your station and try to fix this mess," he growled in parting, Neville doing his best not to look too put out, as he returned to his seat.
Alanna could not believe her ears. How could he be so unfair! To top it all off it was his bloody fault the moonstone was unusable.
Neville heaved his cauldron back onto their table with a sigh, placing it back onto the fire. Alanna moved as quickly as she could, dropping her wand from her sleeve into her waiting hand and softly speaking incantation that would clean the cauldron of its content, stone and all, her eyes never leaving professors form.
Neville blinked and gave her a quick look of astonishment. How could she have done that without Snape noticing?
Alanna pushed the stone at him once more and he took her cue and placed the ingredient into the rapidly filling cauldron, then placing it on the magical flames.
For two full hours, the class worked in silence; the occasional sneer coming from the hovering professor as he made his way through the ranks to investigate oddly fuming potions. Alanna had kept an eye out for Neville, who seemed to have a knack for either stirring improperly and or adding the wrong substance to his brew. She had caught him four times before he blew either of them up by lightly placing the tips of her cold fingers on his wrist, looking up from her own cauldron at the prowling Potions Master. Neville had stopped his actions immediately and either reread the instructions on the blackboard or watched her grasp her ladle firmly to show him the proper stirring procedure.
She never said a word. She never looked his way.
Neville knew that either would have tipped Professor Snape off to what she was trying to do. Oddly enough, he had learned more in this triple period than he had all term.
"Mr. Longbottom, I have not heard the telltale signs of your failure?" Neville jumped at the cold sneer right behind him. "Has anyone been helping you?"
Neville gulped.
Alanna had to bite her tongue. Hard.
All she wanted to do was turn around and wipe that sneer off his perfectly pale features. She could feel his eyes on her once more, burning right through her head. Carefully removing her ladle and placing it beside her station, she tried her best to ignore the insufferable …heavenly smelling…most erotically voiced….brute… 'Oh, bloody hell!'
"Well? Answer me boy," he had moved around the table to face them both.
"No, sir."
He tried; Alanna had to give him that much.
"Mr. Longbottom. Has it ever occurred to you that lying could possibly infuriate me to such an alarming degree that you would feel the after affects of my wrath up until you graduate? IF you graduate?"
"Is this what happens when a Master of Potions decides to teach?" Her voice was soft, but everyone heard it, including…
"What did you say?" A muscle had begun to tick in his tightly clenched jaw.
"I am sure your hearing is functioning perfectly, Professor," she said meeting his icy gaze.
"I will not take this type of insolence in my class. You will remove yourself from my sight at once."
Cold.
Furious.
Sexy.
With a narrowing of her eyes, she shifted and concentrated on removing her completed potion from the fire. With trembling hands, Alanna quickly ladled a sample into a clean vial and stoppered it with a cork. A few spells later, she moved to place her belongings into her bag, vial still in hand.
All students, even the Slytherins, were shocked at her backbone and reckless tongue; all movement having ceased during their confrontation.
"I will be watching you, Miss Flint," his voice was soft and seductive. Not that he was trying to be seductive; however, his voice sounded seductive even when he was angry and growling. Alternatively, perhaps it was especially when he was angry and growling, Alanna was not entirely sure.
"You and everyone else who thinks it is necessary to keep me in this castle," she responded tartly.
"My position demands your respect!" he hissed at her, his face only inches from hers.
"Respect is earned, Professor," she spat out the name as if it were the Dark Lord's own, "and you, sir, cannot expect me to respect a man who demoralizes his students every chance he gets."
With those words, she thrust the vial at his chest and walked toward the classroom door, ignoring the stunned faces of the students.
"Perhaps you will learn that respect tonight."
She stopped in her tracks.
"While serving a four hour detention with our caretaker, Mr. Filch," he said smoothly.
Alanna strode out of the classroom, the door slamming behind her with a satisfying smack. Sweet Merlin, she would make him pay for this!
As soon as she found out what detention actually entailed.
Author's Note: congelare suptile – Roughly translated, Latin for 'freeze delicately or gently'.
To ALL OF MY REVIEWERS: Thank you kindly for your words of encouragement! You are all loved greatly old and new! Please, let me know what you thought of this chapter! I need a day or so for a break, but I'll resume writing ASAP.
Thank you to Mysticsong, or rather Mysticsnog, for her great beta skills!
Thank you to my muse…who…must have..missed..my last email…:SNIFFLE: PinkCorsair!