Chapter seven: Snape Stalked

Classes were... different. I think. Before Hogwarts Meredith home schooled me, and the only person my age I'd ever really interacted with was Harry. Now, the four of us found ourselves in the center of attention- everyone whispering about Harry. Everyone's thoughts were on Harry, and as much as I loved my best friend, I think we were both getting tired of his name. Students, no matter the age, stared at him in the corridors. No one dared to come up and strike up a conversation, half of them afraid he might do to them whatever it was he did to Voldemort, so they whispered about him just loud enough that they might as well not have been whispering at all.

Flower,

Do behave yourself, Lilia. I know about QN- my blood pressure is just fine- as it's been a tradition for a long time, but aside from that obey the rules. They're there for a reason. Things are different in the magical world, very different, and I don't want you getting hurt. I've already mentioned this to Harry in my letter to him, but do watch out for each other. You're not keeping your promise about staying out of trouble if you're threatening other students, whether they were insulting your friends or not. How do you think Hermione would have felt if someone had gotten hurt? Or in detention? I'm glad Neville talked you into sense.

Have you heard anything about Occlumency lessons? I've thought about sending a letter, but I don't want to rude when we've already talked to Miss Lavois about it. Let me know as soon as you know. How are your classes? Do you like your teachers? Are they nice? I'm so proud of you! I would have been proud no matter the house, so long as you're happy. I'm very happy for you, having all of your friends sorted into your house.

Lilia, dear, I understand that you want to find your parents. I'm glad for you that you learned something more about one of them, but please just focus on school. Don't go off getting yourself into trouble trying to find them. I promise, one day I will help you do so, but when you're older.

The house is so empty without you and Harry, and I'm looking forward to having you both home for Christmas. I miss and love you both. Look after each other for me. And tell Harry to share the treacle tarts I sent him- and you share your biscuits!

-Meredith

Teachers weren't much better. Our Charms teacher, whose mind was just as difficult as the goblins' had been, had squeaked at Harry's name on the attendance sheet. Most of the them thought about his parents, and the sad story it was. Some were caring, some were pitying, but unless he asked outright I said nothing about them to Harry.

Neville, while seeming clumsy in our other classes, excelled in Herbology. It wasn't that he wasn't smart, and he had read with us about our classes, but there was something about the plants when we went out to the green houses that calmed him. Harry and I were very glad we'd read up on our course work, making it easier to keep our heads above it. We weren't exceptional, but it did help. But Hermione was amazing at all of it. There wasn't a subject we attended that she was not ahead in, aside from Herbology. Her favorite, was Transfiguration.

Professor McGonagall was an exceptional teacher, I thought. As did everyone else it seemed. No one dared misbehave in her class, first week of school or not. She spoke in an even tone that never wavered as she read off our names for class, passing Harry's as easily as she had everyone else. Our Latin teacher, who introduced himself as Johnathon Sealocke, did the same- an extraordinarily handsome and genuinely kind man with pomaded hair and a pencil thin mustache that everyone seemed to swoon over. His thoughts weren't shielded, and as awful as I felt for it, I peeked. I was starting to regret so many people having the ability to block me, despite my agreement to learn Occlumency. I wasn't used to it, and I felt blind when someone did.

Professor Sealock seemed to know remarkably little about Harry's parents outside of the stories, and kept it in his mind to treat him no differently than he did everyone else. He liked Harry, Harry who found a natural gift for languages that was disheartening. I was very glad that he found a talent, the way Hermione and Neville did, and there was a confidence in him from it- but I didn't have anything like that.

"Cheer up," Fred told me at breakfast on Friday. "Maybe you'll be lucky enough to have the least melted cauldrons in Potions. Snape's a right git on the best of days, and worse when someone melts a cauldron."

"Don't scare them," George said, looking over Hermione's shoulder at our schedule. "They've got double Potions today."

Fred sent an apologetic look and a shrug. "Want us to break you out of it?"

Hermione's eyes widened at the suggestion, and Fred quickly took it back before she could lay into him about such a notion.

"Sorry, sorry. Just, keep your head down and don't look him in the eyes if you value your soul."

The four of us laughed somewhat nervously and I looked up at the High Table to the person in question. He was talking to Miss Elora, the way it seemed he always was, but feeling my gaze he met it with the same mental smile he'd given at the Welcoming Feast.

Professor Snape's classroom was deep in the dungeons, cold and damp from being near the lake. The door was open when Harry, Neville, Hermione and I got there, and most of the Slytherin house were already seated. This was the first time we had a shared class with them, and when we too took our seats, Malfoy sneered at us to cover the anxiety in his mind. Harry glared back. Harry sat next to me, with Neville and Hermione in front of us, and we waited. Professor Snape was in the room, at the front of the classroom, but I couldn't see him. I could feel his mind, that there was a mind and I couldn't read it. It felt like his.

More people trickled in, quickly taking seats as they did- already knowing the stories. I wondered if Snape was staying out of sight to spy on us, decide who was going to be trouble and who wasn't. As the church like bell for class rang, the door at the back of the classroom slammed and everyone- myself included- turned back to watch the professor come in. There wasn't anyone, until we turned back around and the dark man stood there as though he had been for sometime. I smiled, knowing what he'd done there, and he glanced at me to acknowledge it.

He began the roll call, quietly saying each name but everyone heard him perfectly. He paused at Harry's name, adding to it and calling him 'our new celebrity'. Then, he began to lecture.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking. As there is little foolish wand waving in here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic."

That was magic, his words holding everyone captive- Gryffindor and Slytherin alike- and all holding their breath to really begin brewing. He was like Meredith. When he was done, there was silence as his dark eyes roved over everyone- sizing us up- before landing on Harry.

"Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

OH! Harry knew this one. I knew this one. Silently, I sighed a breath of relief that Meredith made us read from our texts; even though we probably would have done it anyway.

Indeed Harry answered, "T-the Draught of Living Death, sir?"

Professor Snape scowled. "And where, Potter, would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"The l-stomach of a goat."

Professor Snape stalked, slowly walking around the classroom like a big cat. A panther, perhaps. He was thinking.

"Miss... Sterling."

I perked up, glancing back at him for my question. "Sir?"

Again, there was a mental ghost of a slight smile. "What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"There isn't one, sir."

"Ten points to Gryffindor."

There was silence. Fred and George had spent the morning telling us about how unfair Professor Snape was. He's a git, they said. They told us he was prejudiced against anyone not in Slytherin, and most especially against Gryffindor- taking ridiculous amounts of house points for equally ridiculous reasons.

No one said anything, the Slytherins seemingly as confused as we were. I turned to look at where he was in the back of the classroom, but he wasn't looking at me... and his mind was as silent as ever. One mind who wasn't quiet, was Malfoy's. His thoughts were angry, aggressively so, and aimed towards me along with a glare that could have wilted Meredith's entire garden.

"Why isn't anyone writing this down?" Professor Snape asked testily.

The class began to pull parchment out and copy what he'd said. Class flowed smoothly, just as it had with the other subjects. He seemed relatively mild, ignoring the Gryffindor students rather than playing the monster everyone had led us to believe. That is, until he split us into pairs to begin working on a cure for boils. Harry was paired with Hermione, and I with Neville.

It started out fine. Preparing ingredients was in the first chapter of our texts, as was the potion. Professor Snape circled everyone, waiting for a mistake, and spending a remarkable amount of time criticizing everyone- Harry especially. Even when I turned my back to finish an ingredient and Neville added the porcupine quills too early. Our cauldron melted, and with it, the near perfect potion. Neville was sprayed with most of the potion, and while the acidic green slime crawled the floor, eating peoples' shoes, blotchy red boils rose up on Neville's arms. There were screams, a few I'm not too proud to say were my own, and Neville collapsed in painful whimpers.

As predicted, Professor Snape swooped down like a cauldron avenger- saving the Wizarding World one melted cauldron at a time, but at the wrong person.

"Why didn't you tell him not to add the porcupine quills until after it was off the fire?" He barked at Harry. "Supposed he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? Two points from Gryffindor."

I could tell Harry was about to argue when Professor Snape whirled to face me, who was helping Neville up. Meanwhile, Hermione convinced Harry to stay quiet.

"Miss Sterling, take him to the hospital wing immediately."

"Y-yes, sir." Hastily, Neville and I left- and overheard Professor Snape taking more points as we did. Why did he seem to hate Harry so much?

"Are you okay, Neville?" I asked, being mindful about his boils.

He whimpered an affirmative. "I'm okay. Do you know where the hospital wing is?"

He brought up a very good question. The four of us had only seemed to get from class to class by following our classmates thoughts and asking the odd upperclassmen where were supposed to go, but everyone would be in class for the next half hour.

"Mr. Longbottom? Miss Sterling? What are the two of you doing out of class?"

I knew before I turned around that it was Professor Sealocke, his mind always delightfully open and pure. And when I did turn around, Neville mewling in pain as he turned with me, there he was; mustache and all. His movements lacked Professor Snape's grace, Miss Elora's dance, or Meredith's mosey, but was at the same time no less interesting to watch. It was like he was always in a calculated hurry. His eyes, just as calculating as his stride, narrowed further at my friend and his mind flooded with concern. He quickly stepped forward to help hold him up.

"What's wrong?"

"Potions accident," I told him simply. "I'm supposed to take him to the hospital wing, but neither of us know where it is."

His face softened slightly, the tightness around his eyes and mouth smoothing, and he placed a soothing hand on each of our shoulders. "Come on. I'll escort you."

I thanked him and he started walking in the general direction we were already heading. He kept a contented smile on his face, just the slightest quirk at the corners of his mouth, and his mind open but not thinking of anything in particular. When he noticed me watching him with a not at all discreet expression of curiosity, the smile slowly spread to a sideways smirk. His thoughts changed direction rather purposefully to a memory of Professor Dumbledore at the beginning of the year staff meeting. He was discussing me, and my Legilimens, and encouraging the teachers with the ability of Occlumency to use it; and offering those without to learn. Sealocke was telling me he was aware I could hear him.

"Then why don't you use Occlumency?" I asked, not worried about Neville as he already knew.

Professor Sealocke chuckled heartily. "Unfortunately, I don't possess the slightest natural affinity for it. I tried to learn a long time ago- a friend tried to teach me- but I found it was a lot more trouble than it was worth. I'm perfectly capable of getting by with deception and mental distraction."

"I thought anyone could learn Occlumency?" Neville asked, momentarily distracted from his boils.

Professor Sealocke noticed, but said nothing. He nodded at the question. "That's more or less fundamentally true. Think of it like... anyone can learn to paint, right? But with some people it clicks, and some people just don't have the gift. Ah! Here we are. In we go."

He opened one of the doors that I hadn't noticed we'd stopped in front of, and the inside looked exactly like what one might expect for a school's hospital wing. There were beds on either side of the large corridor-like room, one or two of them block from view by a separating curtain. A kind looking woman with beady blue eyes appeared, from around one of the curtains and rushed to us faster than I'd have guessed she could move.

"Oh! A cure for boils gone wrong, I suppose. Come in, come in. We'll get you washed up."

"How did you know," I asked, peering into her open mind.

She glanced at me, her eyes locking on mine before she recoiled. Her mind didn't change from thinking about Neville and the person behind the curtain who had a flying accident, but there was definitely something different. She quickly recovered, however, and gave a genuine smile.

"My dear, when you've worked here as long as I have, you begin to recognize. Professor Snape is a creature of habit. I knew I'd be on the look out. Now, you, Mr. Longbottom, need to come over to this curtain and get undressed. We'll hose you down and there's a salve."

I went to follow, to look after my friend, but she stopped me. "There's nothing for you to do right now. Go back to class, and I promise he'll be out before supper."

I hesitated, looking to Neville to be sure he was okay and sending thoughts of comfort. He sent back a lopsided smile. "It's alright. Just, would you grab my things? I left them at our seats."

I nodded. "I will. And, Harry and Hermione and I will come to see you in a little bit. You can walk to dinner with us. If you need us-"

"I know," he said, being herded away by the woman- Madame Pomfrey.

"Come along, Miss Sterling," Professor Sealocke said. I'd forgotten he was there. "I'll take you back."

We left the hospital wing, I was certain I could find it again later, and walked back towards the Potions classroom. Neither of us spoke until we were at the turn and he sent me off the rest of the way alone.

"What's wrong?" I asked, curious at his sudden stop.

He gave a charming smile. "Nothing at all, but I do have a few more things to do before my classes this afternoon. Besides, Professor Snape and I have something of an agreement to avoid each other. You go on."

That only made me even more confused, but something seemed to happen everyday that made me confused or curious or paranoid. I watched him walked away towards his classroom and went my own way to the class.

Everyone was packing up to leave when I came back in, the bell for class ringing with a baritone echo as I passed through the door. Quickly, I slid to the side to avoid the stampede that usually rushed the door when the bell sounded. And indeed many of the students, primarily Gryffindor, stood to leave before stopping at Professor Snape's voice.

"I didn't excuse you," he said in an even tone, his voice a deep resonance as well. "The bell does not excuse you, I do, and I will keep you until supper if I wish to. Sit. Down."

I didn't move, watching, but everyone else quickly dropped into their seats. For a moment he made everyone stay like that- eyeing them for signs of impatience. Here and there someone shifted at the sounds outside of the classroom, the next of Professor Snape's class waiting outside the door patiently as if this was nothing out of the ordinary.

"You may leave so long as you can do so in a civilized manner."

Again, everyone rose and began to hurry out the door.

"Civilized," he reiterated, and they slowed down.

Harry and Hermione saw me and perked up, the latter glancing back at Professor Snape and to Harry. "We'll wait outside for you, Lilia."

"I'll just be a second," I promised.

Neville's stuff was still at our cauldron area, which had been cleaned up already, as was mine. I slipped my bag over my shoulder before grabbing his, sliding his book back into it's place.

"Five points to Gryffindor," Professor Snape said, not looking at me. "I'm sure Mr. Longbottom appreciates your company to the hospital wing."

I looked over to him, his tense body language making me adopt my own. "Thank you, sir."

And Occlumency begins this evening after dinner.

My eyes widened at the opening of his mind to inform me, and I tried to venture further in. I didn't get anywhere, being trapped and caught in a typhoon and shoved out of his mind. It felt very real, and I coughed from the water in my lungs.

"It's very rude to go snooping into someone's mind, Miss Sterling," he said in a light, amused tone.

"I'm sorry," I said automatically.

He smirked, an almost smile that reached his dark eyes. "No, you aren't."

I frowned, looking at him under furrowed brow and from the side of my eyes. But I said nothing, walking towards to the door to leave.

Eight o' clock, Miss Sterling. Please be forewarned that I do not tolerate tardiness.

This time, I stayed out.

A/N: So, Sealocke is an accidental OC that I hadn't planned on until this chapter. I created the Latin class, because it actually bothers me that there isn't one in Hogwarts even though nearly all of their spells are derived from it. So it needed a teacher, and Sealocke happened. I have plans for him now, he's expanded possibilities in my mind. Blame my husband for the name, I originally was going to name him Jonathon Every, but he didn't like that. I looked at other names, asking his opinion and of course being the sailor he is... he chose Sealocke.

Yes, I am making Snape slightly out of character. He hates Harry for who his father was- and Harry's resemblance to him makes it that much easier- and is willing to justify himself anyway he can. I think that's a very human quality. I mean, really, I think everyone has disliked/hated someone because they remind them of someone else. I do, and I've been on the receiving end of it. And, I have had multiple teachers who have used that line... "The bell doesn't excuse you, I do." Particularly a math teacher I had in middle school. She was rather unpleasant. Snape hates Harry, but he can't bring to even pretend disdain with Lilia. Thus, this.

I hope everyone likes it. Next chapter will have Occlumency, twins, Elora, and maybe the flying lessons. Let me know opinions, thoughts, etc.

Mia.