The next morning, classes began. After breakfast, their schedules were handed out and read over. To her absolute delight and everyone else's dismay their first class was Potions with Ravenclaw. Caitlin felt her heart become light as she anticipated seeing Professor Snape again. She wondered what kind of a teacher he was. Already, it had become obvious that he had a foul reputation, with a penchant for favoring his own students and bullying the rest. This didn't sound like the man who'd striven so hard to help her last night. Down to the dungeons they went, Caitlin selected a spot front and center, not wanting to miss anything. She set her cauldron over the burner, had her books and ingredients out, wand and quill close at hand, and plenty of parchment for notes. Snape swishes into the dungeon, his cloak rippling behind him. The majority of the class had not yet come to order, in particular a Ravenclaw girl was seen making stupid faces at the Hufflepuff students. "Durr, I'm a Hufflepuff," she mocks in an exaggerated drawl, then switches to her normal voice, sharp and nasal, "I would've left, wouldn't you?" she asks a student next to her, who giggles appreciatively.

"Silence!" Snape calls abruptly. He looks at the register and finds the offender's name."You there, Miss...Jane Hubert..." he glides over to her desk. "Ravenclaw?" She nods with a proud grin. "Ah yes, the smart House. I bet you've read through your books over the summer, so as to be well prepared?"

"Well, not all of them, but..." she bats her eyes in false modesty.

"But enough, I suspect. Perhaps you could help me with one of my potions, as a demonstration for the rest of the class?"

"Oh, yes, Professor!" Miss Hubert cried out, eager to show off.

Snape holds out a small beaker of a greyish green liquid. "Here, powdered root of asphodel infused in wormwood. Taste it for me and see if I got it right." The girl takes it from him, smells the concoction with feigned appreciation, and prepares to take a sip. He snatches it back, sending droplets of the mixture spraying in a wide semi-circle. "Idiot! You were going to drink it, weren't you? That would've nearly killed you, foolish girl! For future reference, class, potions come in all types, benign and dangerous alike. Don't just drink anything that's offered to you. Only an utter lackwit would be dense enough to do that! Ten points from Ravenclaw!" He sets the beaker down sharply and the class falls silent. Miss Hubert shrinks back, mortified and sufficiently frightened.

They begin brewing a simple cure for boils, the usual introductory lesson. Even at its worst, Professor Snape supposes that very little damage can be done with this one. Besides, it's always useful to send up to the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey is always grateful when his potions classes can swell her stores a bit. That's one of the things that makes this school self-sustaining. He passes by the students, curling his lip at some of their pitiful attempts. His attention swings to Caitlin's station, drawn by an unfamiliar sound...his grimace grows in irritation, the girl is humming. Badly, and off-key, but happily humming as she makes her first stab at potion-brewing. Professor Snape peeks into her cauldron, where her slugs are stewing away, he sees her turn down the heat, carefully reading each instruction. He circles her like a vulture, she barely registers that he's inspecting her work, so intent is she at stirring in the remaining ingredients properly. Snape takes another loop around the room, away from this happy little amateur. She's no Slytherin, he thinks to himself again as he inspects the other students' cauldrons, finding a few apt pupils among both Houses; others...well, there's time, it's only the first lesson. He throws an occasional look over his shoulder at her, she seems a bit behind, class is almost over. Other students are already clearing up their things and getting ready to leave after he passes judgment on them one by one. Then he hears her cry out as though burned. He whips around, with a rebuke ready at his lips...when he sees it. Caitlin is looking eagerly from the book's description of the final product to the solution which is in her own cauldron.

"I did it!" she cries excitedly.

The other students have all gone by now, leaving her behind. It's just Caitlin and Professor Snape.

"So you have." Hiding his surprise and pleasure behind his usual scowl, he gives her potion a stir, pulls up a ladleful and pours it back out into her cauldron. The color is close enough, it was the right consistency; slow and steady wins the race this time. He pours it off into prepared bottles, barely looking at her. "Take a point for Hufflepuff," he drawls. And with that, he turns his back on her as she clears up and leaves.

Caitlin is practically flying out of the dungeon. Rushing to catch up with the rest of the class which has gathered outside their common room to drop off their cauldrons before their next class, she hails them, rosy-cheeked and elated. "Wasn't that marvelous? Potions is so much fun!"

The others look at her like she's out of her mind. Even Susan looks incredulous. "That was fun? No way! Snape's so creepy."

"He's not as bad as people say. I'm not afraid of him."

Susan shakes her head with an indulging grin. "Whatever you say, Caitlin."

Their next class is Charms, which no one can help but like. Professor Flitwick is the friendliest teacher in the school, and the subject promises to be fun. Unlike Professor Snape, Professor Flitwick doesn't throw them right into it on the first day. He always has the first day of school as a day for introductions and demonstrations. Removed from the feeling of class rivalry in the potions dungeon, the class of Hufflepuffs enjoy themselves and get along well, it almost feels like a party. Caitlin gets a few slight jabs for having a crush on old Snape, but she takes it in stride. There lacks the old malicious tone that she's so used to. It's normal for kids their age to have a crush on their teacher, it's just highly doubtful that Professor Snape has ever had a student admirer. In a way, it makes her look a little braver than the other girls, that she's not afraid of the one teacher who makes everyone else's blood curdle.

Susan Bones was just telling Hannah Abbot about Caitlin's kitten, enrapturing the other girl.

"My parents wouldn't let me bring the family cat, since she's not mine specifically. I'll show you a picture after class," she promised, so that they could see on no uncertain terms that her Domino was the best cat ever. "You're really a Muggle-born? What was that like?"

"To find out I'm a witch? Amazing," Caitlin tells her honestly. "I hope things will be better for me here. My old school...wasn't so good," she adds mildly.

"I heard that Muggles are afraid of magic, that's why we keep to ourselves. That's what my dad said," Hannah says sympathetically. "I think it's really neat that we come from everywhere. Even if they burned every pure-blood at the stake like they used to, we'd still crop up in their own families eventually." This idea, while initially morbid, attracted Susan and Caitlin, pleased that you can't keep a good witch down.

After Charms, they go down to lunch, where again Caitlin is reminded of the army of little house elves that cook for them. She finds tureens of vegetable soup with hot toasted sandwiches along their table, pitchers of milk and pumpkin juice dot every few places to be sure there is enough for all. Caitlin wonders what the house elves look like, if they're happy with their jobs, what else they like to do. Her friends, Susan and Hannah, sit with her and they talk, discussing the differences between their first two classes.

"I don't believe you're not afraid of Professor Snape. Even my older brother was," Hannah announces.

"He's not so bad," Caitlin says shortly, not wanting to get into this topic. "He liked how my potion turned out. I was surprised! I liked Charms, too. That looks tricky, but fun! I can't wait to learn some of those spells he showed us." The other girls agree, wondering aloud what he'd have them start out with tomorrow. They finish lunch and run back down to their common room and to visit Caitlin's cat. After spending the last few minutes of their lunch break playing with the mewing little fluff ball, they swap out their books for the afternoon and head for History of Magic.

It's a double period, taking up the rest of the day, and the kindest thing any of the Hufflepuffs could say is that at least it's their last class of the day. Caitlin and her classmates fought to keep from dozing off, some of them tried to force themselves to be interested for the sake of it being the first day, and certain that in the right hands it could have been a stimulating class. However, any class taught by a ghost of a teacher who is as dull as Professor Binns would be an instant snooze-fest.

She'd forgotten about writing home last night, with all of the excitement, but Caitlin had been reminded at lunchtime when the flock of post owls swooped in with letters and packages for the students. After they got out of History of Magic, she scurried back to the common room with her classmates and found a free table to write at. Smiling to herself as she wrote with quill and ink on the thick yellow parchment, she recounted the previous day to her parents, inserting as many explanations as she could, but already finding that a lot of it seems perfectly normal. She wrote about her trouble about Houses, and all about her talk with Snape and her wonderful first Potions lesson, mentioned that she'd made a few friends already, and that she wished they could come and see her school. It takes up two sheets, front and back, by the time she's finished. She folds them up, stuffs it into an envelope and carefully addresses it. As an afterthought, she scribbles directions to return a reply with the owl if he'd let them. The older student who'd mentioned the Owlery, Lizzie Roberts, agreed to take her to mail her letter.

"Since my parents are Muggles, would it be still be okay for them to have an owl of their own, to make it easier to write?"

As they climb the winding stairs to the tower, Lizzie ponders. "You know, I'm not sure. We could ask Professor Sprout. She should be done with classes by now. We can find her on the way back in. I bet she's still finishing up in the greenhouses."

They reach the top and enter the airy room where the owls all live. Caitlin looks up at them all, amazed. "How do I get one down?"

"Just call it, they're free for any student to use."

Unsure of how to call an owl, she holds her letter up. "I need to send this to my parents, if any of you feel up to the trip." There's a rustle of wings and a dull wooden creak as a bird leaves his roost. A large tawny owl flies down. Just in time, Lizzie hisses "Hold your arm out!" and Caitlin obeys, giving the owl a place to land. She cringes in fright, waiting for its claws to sink in, but this owl is naturally familiar with young students, and holds on gently without digging in his talons. He takes the envelope in his beak with a muffled hoot. Caitlin tells him the address, and even starts giving an attempt at directions, with landmarks, when Lizzie stops her with a laugh.

"He knows what to do. It'll get there."

"How soon?"

They begin their descent through the trap door, Lizzie suggests, "Tomorrow, maybe next day. It depends on how far he has to fly and what the weather is like."

Together, they go down to the greenhouses to see Professor Sprout. She's clearing up after her last class of the day, hushing various plants in a soothing way to calm them after a rigorous day with new students. Lizzie heads back to the castle, leaving Caitlin with their Head of House.

"Miss Stand, how was your first day?"

"Fine, Professor," she answers politely. "I just wrote to my parents to tell them all about it, and I wondered if it would be okay for them to have an owl at home. So they can write without waiting for me to."

Professor Sprout wipes off her hands and gives the greenhouse one final look-around, then turns back to the young Hufflepuff. "I don't see why not. As long as they're discreet about it. They know the rules, don't they?"

Caitlin nods, fidgeting, "Professor Burbage told us that we're not allowed to do magic in front of Muggles, or tell them what we are. But...my parents know, does that count?"

"Well, that's one of the special circumstances. It's only recently been allowed for a witch or a wizard to be open about it to their spouse. When I was your age it would've had to be secret."

"That's too bad. I'm glad it's okay now, and that I don't have to keep secrets from my parents. They're glad I have a place here. So how do I get an owl for them?"

"Well, you could buy one at the pet shop in Diagon Alley, they're usually around ten to fifteen galleons. But I bet if you talked to Hagrid, the gamekeeper, he could let you have a school owl for less than that. And that way you wouldn't have to go to London to get it."

With a bright smile, Caitlin jumps in place, "Really? They'd love that!"

With a kind look, Professor Sprout is happy to have pleased this troubled new student so easily, watching as Caitlin skips down to Hagrid's hut at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. She trusts that Professor Snape's warnings about the girl are valid, but for the life of her she can't see this child being angry or vengeful, and it seems she's already making friends. Perhaps at the weekend she can call her House together for some group activities. She wonders if the other Heads of House have ice-breaking rituals and regular activity nights for their students or if they just let them manage themselves. One of the best ideas she'd ever had, she recalls with a sneaky smile, was way back when she told a batch of new Hufflepuffs not to sneak down to the kitchens. Many a "forbidden" House party had been held as a result of that order. The best way to get children to do something is to tell them it's off limits. As a result, generations of Hufflepuffs held pantry raids most weekends. With students like that, it's no wonder that in a thousand years, Hufflepuff House had never turned out a Dark witch or wizard. Caitlin will learn what her House is all about soon enough, Pomona thinks.

Slightly out of breath, Caitlin reaches Hagrid's house, and with a nervous gulp she knocks on the door. It opens and the hairy, friendly giant beams down at her. "Hello there! What's your name?"

"Caitlin, Caitlin Stand. Professor Sprout told me to ask you about buying an owl for my parents to use. They're Muggles, you see. I want them to be able to write to me if they want."

"Come on in, I don't bite. Neither does Fang," he assures her, holding the door open wider. A large black dog leaps out and greets her, jumping up to lick her face. She nudges him back down and looks all around the one-roomed building. It looks quite homey. She takes a seat in an enormous chair, reaching in her pocket to finger her wizarding coins, hoping she has enough. If not, she's not sure how to get her money in the bank at home converted and sent to her here. Hagrid pours her a cup of tea and gets out a hand-drawn book of all the owls kept in the tower. He goes through a few pages, rejecting ones that are too old or bad-tempered to be kept as a pet. He then brightens and taps one of them in approval. "This 'un should do fer yer folks. Friendly creature, sharp, an he's a beauty, ain't he?" He turns the book to show Caitlin the picture of the brown and white barn owl.

"Oh yes!"

"Name's Spectre, on account as he glides along so quiet-like. Appears right outta the blue like a ghost."

"How much does he cost?" Caitlin asks worriedly, clutching her change.

"Lessee. He was hatched about two year' ago, I don't think I could ask more than three galleons for 'im."

Gladly, Caitlin hands over her gold, glad that she has enough. "My parents will be so surprised! Thank you!"

"Yer a firs' year, aren't ya?"

"That's right. I really love it so far."

"Like any o' yer classes yet?"

"Oh, yes. Potions is my favorite. Everyone else is afraid of Professor Snape, but he's not as bad as they say. He was really nice to me."

"Tha's good, not many kids seem to like his class much," Hagrid observes. He'd often felt a bit of sympathy for the Potions Master, he didn't seem to have any friends among the staff, and nearly all of the students seemed to hate him year after year. True, he had a forbidding way about him, but to be so alone in the world as he seemed certainly didn't seem healthy. "Jus' do yer best and you'll be just fine," Hagrid advises. "I'll have yer owl when he gets back from delivery and you can send a letter along with him."

Caitlin finishes her tea, thanks him again, and scurries back to the castle. As she reaches the steps, she throws back her head and gazes at it. This castle, her home! Her school! It seems impossible to imagine that just a few weeks ago she was being terrorized by her classmates in squat, brick, Muggle school. She spreads out her arms as if in flight, absolutely enraptured by her new circumstances. I'm going to be a witch! She can't seem to get over this fact, something that had been simply a given to a good portion of the students. Whenever she thinks this, she can't help be delighted. A few students caught sight of her from the windows, some rolled their eyes at the silly first year; Professor Sprout saw her on her way back in from the greenhouses, pleased to see the look of sheer joy on her face. Snape happened to glance up through the small window in his dungeon with a slight sneer, wondering what the girl could be so happy about. Then he remembered another eleven year old girl, one who was ready to be pleased with everything this new world had to offer...someone who saw the best in people. He stops this train of thought before he really twists the knife in, he will not allow himself to wallow in self-pity.

Caitlin bursts into the common room. "Susan, guess what! I got an owl for my mum and dad! They're going to be so surprised!"

"I bet! How to Muggles normally get their mail?" Susan wonders.

"Mail is collected at the post office and sent out to the right cities to their post office, and people deliver them. You know, I never really thought about that before, now that I do it sounds really complicated. I think I like owl post better!" Caitlin says decidedly.

"I think our way's better," Susan agrees, "I bet it's faster, too."

"But what happens if the owl gets lost or if someone else catches him?"

Susan and Caitlin find room for them on a cushy sofa. They set their books out to do their homework together later. "I don't think I've heard of them getting caught by the wrong person, but if they get lost the worst that happens is the letter arrives late. That hardly ever happens, though."

"What do people do once they graduate from here? What do your parents do?"

Susan riffles through her parchment and sets up her quills and ink to start on her History of Magic homework. "Well, my auntie raised me and she is a justice on the Wizengamot, that's our high court."

"Wow, that's neat. What happened to your parents?"

Susan looks uncomfortable, then leans in and whispers, "They got killed...by You Know Who."

"Who?"

Still grimacing, Susan can't bring herself to say the name. "Ask someone else, okay? I can't talk about it."

Caitlin cringes guiltily, worried that her flub cost her the first friend she'd had in a long time. "I'm sorry."

"Just forget it. One of the teachers can tell you, or someone older. Let's just get to work, okay?" Susan turns to her pile of homework, then pauses, as if remembering something suddenly. "You didn't do anything wrong, all right? I just don't like having to talk about it."

Still not understanding, Caitlin nods and pulls her books and parchment out of her bag. Having produced a decent cure for boils in Potions, she doesn't have an essay to write on where she went wrong, but her History of Magic homework makes her fall back in her seat, hating the class even more. Sulkily, she scratches out a summary of today's lesson. Both girls are now feeling better, and put their school things away for the evening and head down the Great Hall. Already, the strange and magical castle feels like home, like somewhere Caitlin belongs. As they sit down at their long table, Caitlin hears a bit of a commotion and looks up. There's that boy who got all that attention at the Sorting. People were standing up to stare at him, whispering loudly and pointing, just like they had the night before. "Showoff," she mutters, serving herself beef pot pie and mashed potatoes. Susan looks at her curiously.

"What do you have against him? That's Harry Potter."

"What's so special about him? Why does everyone act like they know him?"

Up at the staff table, Professor Snape catches her remarks with a grim smile, glad that not everyone is so spellbound over the Boy Who Lived. He watches as Caitlin is informed of The Legend of Harry Potter, sees understanding dawn on her face but it shifts back immediately to indifference. While the defeat of Lord Voldemort is most certainly a good thing, she obviously doesn't see any reason to treat him any differently. Snape hopes that others have a similar reaction to the pint-sized hero of the wizarding world. Then, having finished her dinner, Caitlin looks up at the head table, looks right at Snape himself and smiles. The potions master flinches, his lips twitch in an involuntary impulse to return it, which he immediately tamps down again. Still, the girl had touched something in him. He firmly tells himself he doesn't like it, and doesn't give a fig for her. Hufflepuff first year, what a joke! Still...she showed promise, and was wholly undaunted by his forbidding persona. Some students seemed to take him as a personal challenge, determined to make him like them. This one...this one simply seemed to like him.

Caitlin and her friends go back to the common room, each of them pleased in their own way about their first day of school. Caitlin runs off with her book bag and flops down on her bed with her sleek new potions book, reading up for the next lesson. She reads quietly by herself until lights-out, already completely at home in this strange world.

Two days later, she receives her first letter by owl from her parents. In the letter, they tell her how glad they both are that she likes school so much already, they thank her profusely for the owl, despite their previous misgivings and nervousness about the creature's sharp beak and claws, and fill her in on their small bits of news from home. They'd also sent a parcel of homemade oatmeal cookies to share with her friends. Things seem to be going well. Then-

Potions had been off to a decent start, they were brewing sleeping draught when the snobbish Ravenclaw girl, Jane Hubert, took up her spiteful attitude again. After being humiliated in their previous class, and finding out that she'd been shown up in points by a stupid Hufflepuff, she knew where to set her sights...

"Psst, Taran," she hisses loudly to her friend and desk partner. "That one there in front, next to the girl with the pigtails...is that a witch or a wizard?"

Caitlin hears, as Miss Hubert had intended, and flushes magenta. Her hair had been kept cut short since she could remember, probably because her mother thought a heavy mane of inevitable curls would be too much for her to handle. So she had a rather boyish haircut all her life. It was something she was already sensitive to.

"I don't know," Taran whispered back with a giggle, drawing Snape's gaze. "Ask!"

Doing her best to ignore them, Caitlin finishes her potion and pours a measure of it into a bottle to be graded. Snape acknowledges her with a blink and a curious expression on his lips. While Caitlin returns to her desk to clear up, Miss Hubert flicks bat spleen at her, splatting against her robes. Caitlin whips around, still red in the face with anger, and the two spiteful Ravenclaws are beside themselves with glee.

"That's a witch!" Jane wheezes with suppressed laughter. "I thought you were a boy! How'd you get so ugly ?!"

That's as much as she can take. Caitlin's eyes fly wide open and out of her cauldron rises a pillar of fire! It frames her hate-fuelled rage with spectacular horror. Everyone springs away as Snape swoops in. With a wave of his wand, he extinguishes it. "Out! Out, everybody! Not you," he growls, catching Miss Stand by the shoulder. "And I'll deal with you later, mark my words," he promises Jane and Taran. "You both receive detention for disrupting class as well."

Caitlin is coming down from that glorious high as she realizes what she'd done. She looks up at Snape and tears spill. She sobs hysterically as she cringes away.

"Clean up this mess," he orders darkly. "Do you realize you could have killed someone? You can't afford to lose control like that. And for what? A stupid Ravenclaw gets under your skin and all hell breaks loose.

She's on her knees, scrubbing away the scorch marks and the spilled potion. Luckily, there wasn't any real damage done, but her own cauldron will need a good scrub-down to get rid of the ashes. She's shaking with terror, both of her potions teacher and of herself.

"I didn't mean to," she gasps, sniffling.

Snape stands over her, thinking hard about something. "Your hair is too short, for a witch," he observes coolly. "Why do you cut it that way?"

"My mum does it. She doesn't think I could handle it."

This reasoning doesn't make a bit of sense. Snape shakes his head with a sigh, remembering how ridiculously his own mother had dressed him as a child. He almost smiles at their similarities. "After your classes today, I want you to come straight down here. You'll serve detention with me tonight for nearly blowing up the lab. You will come down here every night for the next week, including weekends, am I clear?"

"Y-you mean I'm not kicked out?"

"Not yet."

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

Despite the relief of not being expelled, she's late for Charms by a good 15 minutes. Luckily, Professor Flitwick had been informed of her accident and didn't mark her as tardy. During Charms, she and Susan exchange whispers, retelling the events of their Potions lesson.

"Detention all week? After those Ravenclaws dug into you like that?"

"I could've killed someone, Susan," Caitlin reminds her, it's obviously heavy on her conscience. "I lost control. A...a witch must always be a lady, unless circumstances dictate otherwise."

Enough quiet had settled in class that Professor Flitwick had clearly heard her personal axiom.

"Indeed, Miss Stand. As long as you learn your lesson, I'm sure it will turn out all right in the end."

They go down to lunch after Charms, Susan can tell her friend is still very upset by what happened. "It'll be okay. I would've done the same thing. Those girls think they're so special, like being super smart means they're better than us. You brewed the potion today right and you still had time to blow up your cauldron!" She and Caitlin laugh about this, but Caitlin's giggles are more than half terrified nerves.

"I'm just glad you're not scared of me," she confesses.

"Nah, that was kind of cool."

"Snape told me not to give into the pain, when people try to hurt me. He told me not to wallow in it and have dignity. Now I see why."

"He told you that? That...almost sounds nice," Susan says doubtfully.

"He's nice to me. I think...we're the same somehow. Maybe, he could've been like us, if he hadn't given in to his pain, and I could be like him if I do. I think he would've been a good Hufflepuff," Caitlin suggests.

From the head table, Snape is once again treated to Miss Stand's observations. How he managed to single her voice out of the hundreds of others is beyond him. He certainly isn't trying to. Her highly controversial character study makes him sneer, angry at fate at large. How had this first year student gotten thrust into his class, one so like another from long ago. Able to...see the good in him. The thought nearly makes him throw up. He sees her catch his eye, looking sick with fright once again, and he then finds himself making a downplaying gesture, calm down.

That's all it took to get her to stop thinking she was going to be killed. She flashes him a hopeful smile and actually waves. Snape groans to himself. Professor McGonagall looks at him strangely.

"What is it, Severus? That girl?"

"Caitlin Stand, Hufflepuff, capable potioneer with a dangerously short fuse. She's serving detention tonight after setting the lab on fire. She looked scared to death. I didn't want her thinking I was going to swallow her whole while everybody's back was turned."

Minerva smirks, "It's not like you to offer reassurance to the little hooligans. She actually smiled at you."

"Yes. I cannot for the life of me fathom why."

"You were kind to her," she softly says, now recognizing the name from an earlier conversation with the other heads of house after concerns of the girl's stability had been brought to light. "Pomona said you were wonderful with her on her first night, when she was upset about Houses. Sometimes that's all it takes. A little kindness can be the greatest magic there is." She sips from her goblet calmly before adding. "Dumbledore would disagree, I'm sure, he'd say it was love. But what is love besides kindness put into action?"

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

that night, Snape is preparing his dungeon for his detention with Miss Stand, when he hears her voice ringing against the stone walls, badly off-key as usual but definitely with feeling-

"Down once more to the dungeons of my black despair,

down we plunge through the prison of my mind!

Down that path into darkness deep as Hell!"

She stops abruptly, completely ashen at seeing Snape already there. She thought she was early! Enough for a hideous musical interlude, perhaps. Her jaw hangs loose as she wonders what he's going to say about that.

"No singing," he bluntly informs her. "First, clean up your cauldron, it's still a mess from this morning. Then, we'll begin."

As she scrubs the ashes out of her cauldron, Snape is swooping in and out of his private store cupboard and the student supply closet, arranging ingredients and writing instructions on the blackboard. Occasionally, he glances in her direction. As her fear receded once again, he hears her humming to herself as she works. He sneers at her musical inclinations. Not only could she not carry a tune in a bag, she sounds far too confoundedly cheerful for being down here.

"Ready? Begin."

Caitlin looks up from her clean cauldron at the potion she's to make. It isn't named, so she has no clue what she's trying to make. It looks horribly complicated, and to fit to her schedule of detentions it takes a week from start to finish. She rolls up her sleeves and starts chopping roots, setting her cauldron over a low flame to soften them. Once she gets up a good head of steam, she looks up at Snape, uncertain if she is allowed to speak. Bravely, she tries.

"How did my sleeping draught turn out?"

"Adequately brewed," he answers shortly. It might be enough even for me to get some sleep, he thinks hopefully. His dreams have been haunted for years, horrors lurking in every corner, victims of his terrible transgressions. He hasn't been able to sleep unassisted in what seems like ages.

"Professor? What can I do when kids do that to me again? What would you do?"

Ironic that this child sought his guidance. If she'd known exactly what he had done when faced with the same treatment...Still, if one can't be a good example, one must serve as a warning. "Their remarks were shallow and superficial. Personal appearance bears no weight in magical capability."

Strangely, Caitlin smiles at this. Neither of them would win a beauty contest, she's certain of that. Now that she thinks about it, outward beauty is a strange thing to judge someone by. As though that can tell you what sort of a person you are. Looking at her teacher makes her feel warm and soft all over, with a wonderful floating sensation when he looked back. She continues brewing, giving her potion a stir, checking the directions for what comes next.

"I really like Potions, it's my favorite class so far."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Snape drawls coldly, settling down to grade papers while she works.

"Oh, I'm not trying to suck up, I mean it. I've never been good at anything before. Do...do you think I'm good at this?" She asks, now worried that she'd overestimated herself.

"You show promise. If you can keep from having accidents in the future, calm your temper, you have the ability."

She adds a few strands of her own hair to the cauldron, watches it change color and bubble beautifully. "I can't wait to tell my parents about this. Well, maybe not the detention part, but I'd do this all day if I could."

Snape scowls over the heap of parchment. "If this is too pleasant for you, perhaps you can serve out your punishment another way," he warns. He then starts scribbling on the papers in red ink with gusto. Poor performers always gave him a certain amount of pleasure. There's nothing like taking them down a peg or two.

"Oh, no, sir. I know I'm being punished," Caitlin lies, "I'm missing common room activities for this."

"How dreadful," Snape remarks tonelessly.

For the rest of the week, Caitlin returns to the dungeon, keeping up with her mysterious potion and talking to Snape. She does most of the talking, but he's starting to come out of his shell with her. His scowl isn't quite as in place as it had been, his mocking tone doesn't have the same relish to it. At one point on their last day, the topic returns to the reason for her detention, and Snape abruptly leaves the room. He returns, robes a-billowing, with a small wooden box. He sets it on his desk, removes a key from a drawer, and opens it. He takes whatever is in it in his hand, looking from it to the young Hufflepuff. He sets it down on her desk. It's a small, clear, pointed purple-tinted crystal with a pinch of tiny brown specks embedded in it. It's bound in a curling twist of copper, looped to be threaded onto a chain or ribbon.

"Wear that. It will help you remain calm, so your incident doesn't happen again."

Caitlin stares at it, "What is it?"

"It's a charm. Examine it, tell me what you see."

She looks at it closely, "Those look like seeds."

"What kind?"

Caitlin reaches down into her bag and withdraws One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, compares it to several pictures. Some are close, but not quite right, then...

"Mustard seeds. Protection, courage. This is for me?"

Snape grunts what might be a "yes" before examining her finished product. "That...looks just about right. Now, turn around, so your back is to your cauldron and take off your hat."

Thinking these instructions sounded rather odd, Caitlin obeys. She gasps aloud as Professor Snape seizes her by the shoulders and duck her into the pot! He pulls her out again, dripping and shocked. She still has no clue what kind of potion she just brewed and now...

"Now rinse," he commands, pointing her to the stone gargoyle basin in the wall. Shivering, she ducks her head into the cold, clean water awaiting her. She feels a tingling in her scalp. She comes back up and Snape points his wand at her, sending out a jet of warm air. Caitlin is now dry and warm once again, but still very confused. Then she sees... In the back of one of the metal spoons hanging from the wall, she sees her reflection. Her hair... She runs her fingers through it, it's grown out to chin-length and falls in ringlets. She looks up at Snape in amazement.

"Well, it's a start. At least you won't be mistaken for a wizard anymore. A witch must be a lady,"

Compulsively, Caitlin finishes on top of him, "Unless circumstances dictate otherwise."

Snape flinches, they give each other identical odd looks. Caitlin is the first between them to brave the strange waters. "How did you know that expression?"

"Something a friend would say, back when I was a student,"he murmurs softly, sounding as though he'd seen a ghost. Suddenly angry at the memory, with that he points her out of his dungeon.