13. Detention

"I suppose her muggle blood is catching up with her," Pansy told her cronies the next day at breakfast. "That Boggart didn't even respond to her."

"Yeah, it changed for all of us," Millicent said. "Why not her?"

"Blood wasn't strong enough to have an effect on it," Pansy explained. "See what I mean? Once you start breeding with those animals, the magic becomes more and more diluted."

"If anyone's an animal, Parkinson," Callie finally snapped, "it's you with that pug face of yours."

"Shut up, Callie." Of all people, it was Tracey who jumped in to defend her dear new leader. "You're the one that lost us five points, you traitorous wench."

"Oh, big deal. Everybody else gets points taken away all the time," Callie argued.

"Not from our own head of house. And over Longbottom? What, do you fancy him or something?"

"No. I just don't fancy any of you. Think I give a damn about your precious points?"

"Well, you better care," Pansy said. "Twice now we've lost the House Cup to those prats. Don't you realize you're in the losing house too?"

"Yes," Callie said, rising from her seat, "and it brings me great joy."

She heard the girl mumble, "Stupid bitch," as she made her way off to the dungeons. It was two minutes to nine when she stopped outside Snape's office and knocked on the door.

"Come in," he called out. He was sitting behind his desk grading papers, but paused when she approached him. "Miss Warbeck," he greeted coolly.

"Professor," she replied.

"Long as you're here, I ought to remind you that your Shrinking Solution was due at the end of Thursday's lesson."

She looked at him in confusion. "I know," she said, "I put it on the cart with the others."

"I didn't see it."

"I know I put it there," she insisted with a furrowed brow.

"Obviously you must be mistaken," he said. "Or else one of your classmates swiped it, or switched your label with their own name. I have everyone's except yours."

Only one person would've pulled such a trick. "Pansy," she said. "It was Pansy who swiped it, if anyone did."

"I suggest you back up your assumptions with some proof, if you're going to accuse anyone. Did you happen to see Miss Parkinson - or anyone else for that matter - messing with your sample Thursday morning?"

Callie was infuriated, but she couldn't deny that she hadn't seen anything. "No," she admitted. "But I swear I turned it in."

"In any event," Snape went on, "I never got it. Unless you would like a grade of zero for the assignment, I suggest you find the time to make another one before our next lesson."

Callie bit her tongue. She'd be helping Neville brew his own solution later on, and could work on her own at the same time. "Yes, sir, I will," she said.

"Very well. Now, for your punishment," he began. "As noble as it was of you to jump to Longbottom's defense, perhaps you fail to understand the consequences of ingesting an improperly brewed Shrinking Solution."

"No, sir, I do understand. Which is why I asked you not to test it on a living creature."

"Hmph. Still haven't learned how to keep your sass in check. For the next several hours, you're going to practice staying quiet, for a change, as you write up a five-foot essay on the dangers of mis-brewing. I want to see examples. No less than ten specific side-effects from ten different potions." He gestured to a wall of built-in bookshelves at one side of the room. "You're welcome to use my library for references. Remember to cite them."

"No need, sir," Callie said, taking a seat. "I'm sure I can manage." She pulled out a quill and parchment and got to work. She was quite pleased with herself as the words flowed effortlessly. She knew all about the dangers of mis-brewing, having fouled up herself a time or two. Though when she described those mishaps in the essay, she left her name out of it.

It wasn't so hard to come up with five feet of material, and when she was finished, the clock said she'd only spent an hour and a half on her work. Gathering her papers neatly, she walked up to Snape and handed them over.

"Five pages, sir," she said.

He flipped through them, counting - and then tore through the papers. Callie's jaw dropped as he destroyed the words she'd just spent ninety minutes working on.

"I could've had that published," she said flatly.

"I said cite your sources."

"I didn't use any."

"Oh, and I suppose you're just as knowledgeable on the subject as Arsenius Jigger or Libatius Borage?"

"If you want a transcript of the text, I can do that too," Callie said.

Snape eyed her disdainfully. "Fine. You can get on that next Saturday. For now I could use some housekeeping." He conjured a rag and a bottle of cleaner, pushing them towards her. "Get to work. Those shelves and that bookcase need dusting."

Callie grabbed the supplies and headed over to a large display not unlike the one in the Potions classroom. Jars upon jars of ingredients, including the infamous dead animals, preserved in solution for future use. Snakes and rats and even a kitten - what kind of potion called for kitten, she wondered.

Despite her disgust and her hatred for the man, she did as good a job as she could to make everything sparkle. Just like potion-brewing, this was busywork, and at least she could let her mind wander. Plus, who knew what other task he'd subject her to if she finished too quickly. May as well draw this out as long as possible.

Gross as they were, the jars of preserved animals - and in some cases, just their internal organs - were somewhat interesting. Callie had been through her mum's anatomy books at home, and been similarly fascinated. I must be sick, Callie thought. But then she came upon a jar that was too much for even her.

"Bloody hell!" she exclaimed, pulling it off the shelf to study. "This is a human!" Not only that but a fetus, just barely recognizable as human.

"Your observational skills are astounding, Warbeck," Snape said sarcastically.

"Why do you have this?" she asked, horrified. "And where did you get it?"

Unabashed, he explained, "I stole it from a muggle research lab in Dublin. Now put it down."

"Gladly," she replied, doing as he said. "But why did you take it?"

"Research," he said without further elaboration.

Callie couldn't imagine what kind of "research" would involve a human fetus, especially in the magical world. "Do I even want to know?" she said.

"No, you don't. Now keep quiet, your voice is irritating."

She moved on from the selves of animal jars to the bookcase. His collection consisted of a couple dozen volumes on potion recipes, a good deal of resources on magical substances - herbs, animal products, and non-living materials like crystals. What he seemed to have more so than anything were books on dark magic. One in particular caught her eye, simply because it looked about two-thousand years old. The title was written in a language Callie couldn't comprehend. She flipped through the pages at random, careful not to tear the worn, almost transparent paper. Halfway through she paused, and though she didn't have a clue what the text said, images of people getting cut up and eaten graced the opposite page. She scrunched up her face in revulsion, yet couldn't look away.

"Something you'd like to share with the class?"

Callie had jumped right out of her skin; she hadn't even heard him come up behind her. Whipping around to face him, she struggled to catch her breath.

He eyed the open book in her hand, spoke something in a foreign language, then translated, "Grecian Arts of Darkness."

"Oh," Callie said, checking the title. "I thought that might be Greek."

"Didn't I set you to dusting?" he said. "This isn't leisure time. Put it away. Carefully."

She slid the book back in its place as gingerly as if it were a priceless work of art. Though something that old may have been just as valuable.

"Picked human fetuses in jars," she said, "books on cannibalism. I don't mean this offensively, sir, but you're a bit twisted."

"That's three."

"Three?"

"Three Saturdays in a row I'll have to spend with you. Or perhaps Professor Hagrid could use some help in the Forbidden Forest."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"How did he get a... fetus, you said?"

She and Neville were in a vacant dungeon setting up their brewing supplies. "Said he stole it from a muggle research lab," Callie replied to his question.

"How did they get it, then?"

"I don't know. Had to have done it surgically, but I don't know why."

"Surgically?" Neville asked.

Callie paused, and then grinned. "Oh, right," she said. "I forgot, you're not used to muggle matters. Surgery is a thing muggle healers do in a hospital. Basically cutting into people to fix whatever's wrong with them."

"Why on earth would they cut into people?"

"Like I said, to fix them. Doctors don't have magic and potions to heal people. They do have medications - what you might call a muggle potion - but that couldn't fix something like a broken bone or rotten organ."

"Bloody hell," Neville said. "It's amazing the whole lot hasn't died off."

Callie recognized this as genuine amazement rather than criticism. "They have their ways," she said.

"Is this all the stuff you learn about in Muggle Studies?" he asked.

"Maybe, but we haven't gotten that far yet. My mum's a muggle."

Neville's brows shot up in complete surprise. "Really?" he said.

"I haven't told you that?" Callie asked. Come to think of it, Hermione was the only person outside her house who knew her blood status. But she was a muggle-born. Callie suddenly worried that others might be just as prejudiced as her housemates were. "So... what do you think?" she asked tentatively.

"About what?"

"About me being half-muggle." She had her back to him, and couldn't guess what he was thinking.

"I... guess I don't think anything," he said. "I mean, most people have got some muggle blood in them."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Do you?"

"Well... I don't think so."

She turned to face him. "Wait," she said, "so you're pure?"

He shrugged. "I don't know anyone muggle in my family. Though, I'm practically a squib, myself."

Callie rolled her eyes. "You're not a squib," she said. "Stop putting yourself down all the time. A little bit of confidence would help you out, ya know."

"Confidence won't help me pass Potions," he said miserably.

"No, but I will. Come on."

They got to work on their shrinking solutions, Callie checking Neville's measurements and making sure he didn't skip any steps.

"The daisies, they're too big," she informed him. "You've got to cut them smaller, almost to a powdery consistency."

As they left their potions to simmer, she noted that the bright green liquid in his cauldron matched the one in her own.

"Just because the daisies were too big? That's what got me?" Neville asked.

"The more you cut 'em, the more nectar that's let out," Callie explained. "Changes the whole composition of the potion."

Neville smiled. "Thought you weren't good with plants," he said.

"I'm not," Callie replied. "Last year I barely passed Herbology, and that was only 'cause I stole Daphne Greengrass's homework. The trick is to leave a few answers wrong. That way the teachers don't catch on."

"You're a cheater?"

"Only a couple of times. And only in that class. I was desperate." After a pause, she said, "Not gonna rat on me, are you?"

"No. Technically I copy Hermione's work all the time in Potions. Still doesn't come out right, though."

They were quiet for a while, watching their cauldrons simmer, before Neville spoke again. "So," he began, "you're friends with Daphne Greengrass? Pansy Parkinson and all them?"

"Absolutely not," Callie replied. "Pansy's the worst piece of human trash I ever met."

"Oh," Neville said. "I only figured, since Daphne let you copy off her..."

"Oh, she didn't let me. I just swiped her homework when she wasn't around. Trust me, I don't like them and they don't like me. Never have, never will."

After a moment, Neville asked, "What's that about?"

Callie rolled her eyes and said, "It started because I'm a lowly half-blood."

"What's wrong with that?"

"My blood's diluted, they said, because I have a muggle parent."

"So? Hermione's got two muggle parents, and she's brilliant."

"Yeah, but they don't think that way. It's not about ability, it's about status. They think they're above everyone else because their families belong to the Sacred Twenty-Eight."

It got quiet again, and then Neville said in a soft voice, "My family's one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight."

Callie looked at him in disbelief.

"I mean, I don't really care about that kind of thing, but..." He trailed off, looking as though he expected her to yell at him or something.

But she was amazed at the difference between he and Pansy, or Malfoy, or any of the others. Not once had he mentioned his family's status. He hadn't even told her he was pureblood until she'd asked.

"Wow," she said after a moment. "Never thought I'd be sitting here socializing with a royal."

"I'm not- I-" he stammered.

Callie smiled, "I'm just kidding. Actually I really didn't think I could ever be friends with a Sacred Twenty-Eighter. Then again, all the ones I've met so far have been arseholes. Present company excepted."

"You don't, like... hate me now or anything, do you?" he asked nervously, fiddling with his robes and turning pink.

"No. You don't hate me now 'cause I'm a half-blood?"

"'Course not. I told you, I don't care about that. I mean, you've got more muggle blood than me, and you're completely out of my league." He paused, and then added, "Magic-wise, I mean."

"Confidence, Neville. Get some, please."

"Sorry."

"Don't be so quick to say sorry all the time. That doesn't help with confidence."

"S-" He caught himself. "All right."

"Now, how many minutes has it been?"

He checked his watch. "Fifteen."

"Ought to be done by now, then." They extinguished the flames underneath their cauldrons and waited for the potions to cool.

"What are we going to test them on?" Neville asked.

"This daisy'll work," Callie said, grabbing one of the extras from their pile of ingredients. "Go ahead and try it."

Neville dipped a spoon into his potion and flicked a few drops on the flower. With a pop, the daisy appeared as a tiny version of itself, little more than a half an inch long.

"I did it!" Neville exclaimed happily. "Bloody hell, I got it on the first try!"

Callie picked up the shrunken flower and said, "Tiny daisy pieces. Everything else was all right. If he ever tests us on this, remember - tiny daisy pieces."

He grinned at her as she grabbed another daisy to try out her own potion. "You're a better teacher than Snape's ever been."

"That's not saying much, but thanks."

"Thanks for standing up for me. And for doing that Immobulus charm on Trevor, that first night."

"Any time," she said, flashing him a friendly smile.

They started to clear up their things, and after a moment, Neville said, "Callie?"

"Yeah?"

Hesitantly, he said, "I... I lied. I did get to face the Boggart. I was the first one, actually."

Callie paused to face him and asked, "Why'd you lie?"

Red-faced, he bowed his head and said, "I was embarrassed."

Callie bit her lip. She'd lied too, and how could she let him confess without doing so herself? "Well, that makes two of us."

"Huh?"

She explained, "It wasn't a mandrake for me. I still detest them, but I'm not afraid of them."

"Oh. So... what was it then?"

She explained exactly what had happened, and Lupin's interpretation that she was afraid of being alone. Neville didn't think it was something to be embarrassed about.

"No?" she said. "Well, what was yours?"

He got a bashful look on his face and said, "Don't laugh, okay. And don't tell any of your housemates."

"I wouldn't tell them anything," Callie said. "And I promise I won't laugh."

He hesitated, but finally said, "It was Snape."

Callie raised her brows. "Snape?"

"Yeah. He terrifies me. Every time I'm in his class I can't relax. Always feel like he's breathing down my neck and he's gonna flip out on me any second."

"Well it's no wonder you do so bad in Potions," Callie said. "But don't let him get to you. Really, his bark is worse than his bite. He can't actually do anything besides mark you down anyway."

"I know, it's stupid, but..." He trailed off with a shrug.

"Anyway," Callie went on, "what did you do to make Snape funny?"

Neville explained, "Well... Lupin told me to picture him in my gran's clothes. So I did, and... there he was in a green dress and feathered hat."

Callie stared at him, stunned.

And then she burst out laughing.