Emily barely had a hand up to knock on the door to the Charms classroom when she heard Flitwick's voice ring out in an echo.
"Miss Prince! Do come in and have a seat." There was a loud crashing noise heard from the back of the room, followed by Flitwick again. "I'll be with you in just a moment."
As she entered the Charms room, she was surprised by how much natural light the windows let in this early. She'd only ever been in Charms in the afternoon when the sun was at its worst, but it turned out it was bad even in the morning. There were stands of desks rising in angles on each side of the classroom, each row leading down to where Flitwick stood on a stool, to make himself tall enough to be seen. With nobody in it, the classroom looked so much larger than it had been.
Flitwick's desk — Emily realized now that Flitwick's voice had, in fact, come from beneath it — was set in the centre of the room, covered with papers and parchment and various volumes of The Standard Book of Spells, which served the students well through their O.W.L. year.
She took a seat on top of one of the student desks nearest the centre and struggled against the uneven weight of her bag until she let it down with a loud thud.
"Please excuse me; I made the unfortunate mistake of opening a Chocolate Frog while distracted, and I'm afraid it's gone now, alas." Flitwick crawled out from beneath his desk and climbed atop his stool in front of it. He reached behind him and grabbed a piece of parchment from the surface of his desk, examining it before he spoke. "I see you did rather well on your O.W.L.s last year. That O in Charms was well-deserved indeed."
"Thank you, Professor."
Emily had a matching copy of her O.W.L.s results balled up in her fist and clutched it tight as if it were some sort of good luck omen.
"You'll surely have options aplenty, my dear, and were I looking to retire soon, I'd recommend you for my post! But being only ninety-seven… well, I suppose that's a bit irrelevant then, isn't it?" He chuckled and shook his head before he turned back to her again. "Have you given any thought to your plans after Hogwarts, Miss Prince?"
She had done research over holiday about her career options, at Flitwick's recommendation. She brought all her information with her to Cannes and Paris, hidden from her mother's disapproving eyes, of course, reading through the travel and searching until something clicked. And then suddenly the answer was there, in front of her, as if it had been there the whole time.
"I think..." She glanced down at the paper in her hand and swallowed the lump in her throat. "Well, sir, I think I'd like to become an Auror."
"An Auror?" Flitwick recoiled in surprise. Every muscle in his face twitched in sync. "That's certainly an ambitious goal, my dear. I'm rather curious to know what brought you to that decision."
"My father worked as an Auror. It's an important job, protecting the magical community and all."
Flitwick sighed and said, "Ah, your father…" He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, examining Emily's face before he continued, "It's an immensely rigorous program, you know. You'll need top marks in at least five subjects, and nothing lower than Exceeds Expectations."
"I did my research. I know that they only take a few recruits from each year, but I feel confident that I can qualify." Despite the undeserved O in Potions, she had the marks to merit a spot.
Flitwick adjusted his glasses on his face and regarded her with a concerned curiosity. "This was admittedly not the response I had been expecting from you, Miss Prince. When I think of Auror candidates, a certain profile comes to mind..."
"The Ministry says they look for candidates who are strong in character and aptitude."
"And brave above all else," Flitwick added, his voice echoing through the emptiness of the Charms classroom, louder and harsher than she had remembered hearing it before. "With what happened at the World Cup… the Dark Mark appearing… more Death Eaters and Dark Wizards cropping up each day… We cannot settle for anything less than the best and the bravest."
"But Professor, surely you don't subscribe to the belief that only Gryffindors can be brave."
"Certainly not. After all, it's not only Slytherins who exhibit cunning and ambition, now, is it?" He smiled at her, and it crinkled into the corners of his eyes. "Still, I'll admit that although you have many skills and talents, a strong nerve does not lie high among them."
"I'm sorry, what?" Emily looked at him through knitted brows before her muscles loosened. She tried to hide the insult that slapped her across the face.
"What I mean to say, my dear, is that you seem to lack what I call a proclivity for reckless abandon. In the face of distress, you adhere to rule and regulation. And the Ministry does not actively seek out those who unrelentingly follow the rules."
"I don't always follow the rules," she argued.
"Ah, but you do. It's part of what makes you such a good prefect."
"Well, I can learn to be more reckless."
"Miss Prince, there are many things one can learn from books, but one cannot study away that which exists deep down inside of them," he said.
"But it's possible that if I train, I —"
"I'd like you to consider these," he said and handed her two thin, coloured pamphlets. "It's still good work — important work — that I believe would best utilise your talents."
She took the pamphlets and stuffed them into her bag without a second glance.
Professor Flitwick let out a deep sigh. "I am not looking to upset you or deter you from your chosen path, Miss Prince. It's my job to offer my suggestions, but the decision is ultimately your own. Sit for the Auror exam and give it your all. I've found that if a Ravenclaw puts her mind to something, there is little in this world that can stop her."
Emily took a deep breath, avoiding her professor's polite eyes.
He smiled again. "But I've kept you away from Potions for far too long; I'm sure Professor Snape will have my head... and yours."
Oh, right. Potions.
She glanced down at the O.W.L. results still balled up in her hand. There were only two Os she had received: Charms, of course, and Potions. Only one of those was earned, and she wasn't much looking forward to seeing Severus to find out more about the inaccurate mark.
"Whatever your choice, my dear, I certainly wish you all the best." Flitwick stood up from his stool and shook her hand with both of his. "And if you see Mr. Davies on your way, please do let him know that I'm ready for him."
Emily walked out of the Charms classroom, pulling the door shut behind her, and when she turned around to continue on her way to the dungeons, she nearly ran right over a tall brown-haired boy in Ravenclaw robes who greeted her with a polite, "Oh, hey, Em."
She greeted him back before she even realized who it was.
Roger Davies's blue and bronze tie was loosened from around his neck, and the top button of his white shirt was open, drawing attention to his Adams apple and collarbone. His hair fell into his eyes, and he shook it out so that it splayed across his forehead.
"Hey, Roger," she corrected herself. On instinct, she shoved the pamphlets she'd been given further down into the bottom of her bag. "Flitwick says he's ready for you, just so you know."
"Thanks. Where are you heading?"
"Potions." She paused, then added, "Unfortunately."
"That's where I'm coming from!"
"Go figure," she said and let a casual smile pass across her face.
He flashed a charming pearl-white grin her way, accompanied by a pair of slightly raised eyebrows as he offered, "Maybe we can meet up sometime tonight before patrols and catch each other up on what we missed."
"Sounds good to me." A flush rose to her cheeks as she pulled her hair back so that it fell behind her shoulders, her fringe still hanging in her face.
"All right, great, yeah." His voice was almost a stutter, but he quickly straightened himself up. "And, um, if I don't see you back in Potions, I'll see you later, yeah?"
She nodded, her curls bouncing with the motion against the bunched fabric of her robes. "Good luck with Flitwick."
"Good luck with Snape," he called over his shoulder as he moved to the classroom. "You'll need it more than I will."
Oh, right. Snape. Potions.
Damn.
When Emily got back to the dungeons, she was grateful to see that Violet and the twins had found seats near the door, with Violet in the front — of course — and the boys behind her. All the students in the class were sitting in disconcerting silence, textbooks open on their desks, though few students, if any, were reading.
The open seat was next to Violet, so she slid into that one, hoping to sneak past Severus without him seeing her.
"Miss Prince," his voice droned from the front of the room, "don't think I didn't notice your late entry into my class."
"I was just — "
"That's enough." His lips puckered before he spoke again. "The first chapter in your textbook. Silently."
She pulled out her copy of Advanced Potion-Making from her bag and yanked it open. As her eyes took in the first chapter's title, "Advanced Potions: A History," she groaned under her breath.
From her side, Violet whispered, "You're lucky you missed the lecture about how bad our O.W.L.s were."
Emily was careful to ensure her voice was practically inaudible to all but Violet as she hissed back to her, "But he requires an O just to get in!"
"We were all confused, too, but it seemed best to just let him go with it."
"Got a penchant for the dramatic, that one," George added from behind as he nodded toward Severus.
Fred leaned forward. "Don't worry, though; we'll get the chance to prove we're not all dumb gits next class when we retake the bloody O.W.L."
"… Can he do that?" Emily asked.
Violet's response was a blasé: "Apparently."
"Honestly, McGonagall could've thrown us into anything. I'd retake Divination over Potions!"
"Hey! Divination's not that bad," Emily whispered, but the boys ignored her.
"And how will we have time to perfect Weasley's Wizard Wheezes with all the homework Snape's gonna assign?"
"Damn," George said, leaning back in his chair, almost stunned, and pursed his lips. "I'd hardly considered that, Freddie."
Violet scrunched up her nose. "I think that may have been the point."
"A futile effort, though, as I'm sure McGonagall realizes," said Emily with a sardonic roll of her eyes.
"And if not, she certainly will." A glimmer of mania shone in the twins' eyes.
"You two have so much potential," Emily said, her voice still a hushed whisper but now with a twinge of whine to it. "Why waste it making joke candies?"
"Simple, Princey — money."
"Yeah, nobody pays us to do homework," George agreed.
"If I started, would that keep you out of trouble?"
"Silly, Princey." Fred twirled a finger through a lock of Emily's hair, tangling himself up in the auburn ringlets, and when she hissed a harsh ouch, he smirked. Violet's laughter was muted from behind her hand as Fred whispered, his face mere centimetres away from Emily's. "Nothing can keep us out of trouble."
There was a moment of brief silence, punctuated only by the sound of turning pages before Violet turned again to Emily. "What'd Flitwick say, anyhow, when you told him about the Auror thing?"
Emily snorted. "Obviously, I'm just meant to bartend at the Hogs Head for the rest of my life, if that clues you in to how it went…"
"That would at least get us free drinks, yeah?" Fred joked.
She shoved him hard in the side and tried not to smile. "Oi, I'm serious though. I'm having a real crisis."
"You can't have a crisis at sixteen," he argued back, tongue-in-cheek. "And besides, if you want to be an Auror, just do it."
From the front of the room, Severus suddenly stood up, his chair scraping against the floor behind him. "Miss Prince, Miss Briggs, and Misters Weasley; is there something in the word silent that makes it difficult for you to understand? Or perhaps you believe that you are, for whatever reason, above the rules I enforce in my classroom?"
The four looked at each other, uncertain of what to say that might keep them out of further trouble.
Severus spoke again. "Ten points from Gryffindor and Ravenclaw for each of you."
The rest of the class was spent in silence — real silence — as Severus hovered around the room, breathing down the necks of each student who so much as hiccoughed. And when it was finally over, everyone breathed a sigh of relief as they all rushed at the same time to the door.
Emily was almost halfway into the corridor when Severus drawl called her back, and her bag felt like an anchor over her body. "No so fast, Miss Prince."
Fred, George, and Violet waved a quick bye and mentioned that they'd catch her in lunch later as they booked it down the hall. Grumbling under her breath, Emily trudged back to Severus's desk, hitting her feet hard against the stone floor with each step. "Yes, Professor?"
"I feel the need to remind you that being a bright pupil and second year prefect will not excuse you for poor behaviour." There were deep lines carved into the skin of his face. "Disobedience… tardiness…"
"You knew I had my meeting with Professor Flitwick this morning," she said and adjusted her bag on her shoulder.
"I did."
"So why am I in trouble for tardiness?"
His mouth turned to a sneer as he replied, "There is no favouritism in my classes. Surely you know that by now."
"Then how am I still in your class?" She pulled the crinkled copy of her O.W.L. results from her pocket and slapped it against his desk. "I failed your O.W.L."
"Don't be absurd. You got an Outstanding. Clearly." His narrow, bony finger tapped against the grade on the parchment.
She inched forward towards him, almost defiant in tone as she spoke. "My brew was a disaster, and you know it."
"Your brew was excellent," he said but didn't look up from the paper.
Emily scoffed. "It didn't work to calm my nerves at all."
"Too much exposure dilutes the potency, as you ought to know from class."
"I saw the proctor's face," she argued. "It was all wrong!"
"That oaf from the Ministry wouldn't know a Calming Draught from a Pepper-Up Potion. He deferred entirely to my judgment. And I graded as I saw fit."
With a sigh, she folded her arms against her chest. "Even still, my essay was an incomprehensible mess."
His eyes flickered up to look at her and then back down as he said, "Substandard for your usual, I will admit."
Emily threw her arms up on reflex. "Exactly! Probably an A, maybe an E, but never an O." Her shoulders dropped as her arms fell back to her sides, and she ran a hand through her hair. "Honestly, I want to do this on my own, not with your generosity."
"I am hardly known to be the generous type."
Her gaze was hard-met, and she straightener herself up, still too short to be even with him. "If I didn't make the grade on my own merit, then remove me from the class."
"No." His skin was sallow, stretched taught across his face, every bone sharp and angled and severe.
"Then I'll go to Professor Dumbledore and remove myself," she said. She pulled the strap of her bag tighter to lessen its load and turned as if she were moving to leave.
"You'll do no such thing."
A laugh caught itself in Emily's throat, and she said, "What, are you using your class to nanny me? I'm not a child, Severus!"
As soon as his name escaped her mouth, she wished she could grab it out of the air and swallow it back up before it reached him. But it was too late — it already had.
And his face grew dark and hardened as he growled, "You will never call me that again."
She crumpled in upon herself, mousey beneath his towering shadow. "Yes, sir."
"No one is in this class who has not earned the right to be in this class. Beyond that, I feel no obligation to detail the intricacies of my grading." He paused and looked up at her with challenging eyes. "That's the last word I'll have on this, is that understood?"
"Yes, sir." She turned to flee at her first opportunity, the moment he sat down at his deskchair again. Her bag held her back with its heft as she rushed to the door, her fingers wrapping around the knob, and she pulled it open as quickly as possible.
"Wait." His cold voice stopped her in her tracks, and with a wave of Severus's hand, the door slammed shut, yanking Emily's arm with it. "What's this I hear about Aurors?"
"I told Professor Flitwick at our meeting that I'd like to become an Auror after Hogwarts," she explained and rubbed her elbow where the door had pulled too hard. Severus flinched against the statement.
"You ridiculous girl," he spat, shooting up from his desk chair, "what makes you think you ought to be an Auror?"
The challenging sentiment caught her by surprise for the second time today. Still reeling from Flitwick's near-insistence that she was hardly Auror material, it shouldn't have caught her so off-guard that Severus was also vehement against the idea. For her mother's sake, she was sure. And to a certain extent, that made sense — at least as much as Severus ever could.
"Well, my father was —"
Severus slammed a closed fist hard against his desktop, and Emily jumped back in response. "You have no idea what your father was."
She didn't remember ever seeing him so angry. His ashen complexion was lit up with splotches of red, and his teeth, crooked and yellowing, were bared out at her like fangs. She could see his whole body rise and fall against his breaths, his eyes narrowing down at her as she opened her mouth to speak.
Emily collapsed under the weight of his accusation. Her face went white, her jaw tight, her fists clenched and trembling as she stared down at the floor with tears brimming the edges of her eyes, threatening to stain her cheeks as they burned with embarrassment.
"There is real danger involved in being an Auror, and contrary to your smug self-confidence, you are not invincible." Severus continued, as he pushed his chair back to the desk and walked around to come face-to-face with her, "And for your concerning lack of respect, I'll see you tonight for detention in my classroom."
"I have prefect patrols tonight," she countered.
"Then you'll serve it before patrols."
She thought about Roger and how they had planned to meet up later that night. She thought about sitting next to him on one of the velvety blue sofas in the Ravenclaw common room as they passed their schedules back-and-forth between each other and talked until they needed to leave.
From out of her daze, she said, "I have things to do before then."
"Perhaps you ought to have considered that before you showed such blatant disrepute."
With a shaky breath and against clenched teeth, she replied, "I'm truly sorry, Professor."
He didn't look up, didn't turn to her, hardly even acknowledged that she was there. But as she turned to walk away, dragging her schoolbag behind her, the heels of her uniform shoes scuffing the ground with each shuffling step, she heard him reply, "As you well should be."