School Days
Sorry, the document upload clicked on the wrong story & I didn't notice it. Here's the correct chapter!
The cockatrice alarm went off right above her head, its infernally loud screech yanking
her up out of a wonderful dream, a dream where the first day of school was still a month away.
Groaning, Arista sat up and whacked the stupid thing over the head until it quit screaming.
Then she glanced blearily at the clock on her nightstand. 6:35. She shoved her head back under the pillow. Just as she was falling back asleep, there came a knock on her door. "Arista! Time to get up," her father called, sounding infernally wide awake.
"Ughnn . . .Ten more minutes, Dad!" she called, sticking half of her face out of the pillow.
"Fine, but you better be awake next time I come up here," he warned.
Arista mumbled something and promptly fell back to sleep. The ten minutes passed in a heartbeat. The next thing she knew, Professor Snape was shaking her shoulder and growling, "Arista! Get up, you've only got an hour to get dressed and eat breakfast before you have to be at Platform Nine and Three Quarters."
His daughter opened one eye and said sleepily, "Why can't I just skip school today? I'm too tired."
"That's your own fault. No one told you to stay up till two in the morning reading under the covers," Snape pointed out mercilessly.
She opened her other eye. "How'd you know?"
"I'm your father. I know everything. Now let's go."
"Do I have to? My head hurts. I think I'm coming down with something."
"Oh, stop being so dramatic," he ordered crossly.
She buried her face in the pillow again.
Incensed by her stubbornness, he gave her a swat on the bottom. "Up, young lady!"
"Okay! Okay!" she cried, sitting up and scowling at him. "I'm awake. Happy now?"
"Mind your attitude, miss," he snapped. "You've got ten minutes." He left the room.
Arista made a face at the door. She contemplated her warm bed again. Then she contemplated her father's temper. It wasn't worth it getting him in a bad mood. Unable to avoid the inevitable, she crawled out of her bed and began to dress in the clothes she'd laid out the night before. A dark blue skirt and a matching top, over which went her school robes, black with the blue Ravenclaw crest.
A week ago, she'd gone back to Hogwarts and been Sorted into Ravenclaw, she'd be going as a fourth-year even though she wasn't quite fourteen yet. Dumbledore had given his permission, since she'd passed all the fourth-year entrance exams with flying colors.
She ran a brush quickly through her short auburn locks, taming them down somewhat. Then she stood for a moment, examining herself in the mirror. Was she too pale? Did her eyes look too big? They were so dark, they dominated her face. Why oh why did she have to wear these stupid robes? They made her look like a nun going to convent school. She wished heartily she were back in America, who didn't have dumb things like apprentice wizard dress codes.
"ARISTA EILEEN SNAPE! If I have to call you one more time—!"
"Coming!" she yelled down the stairs. "Don't have a canary, Dad!"
She glanced one last time in the mirror, then grabbed her school satchel and her wand and said to Comfrey, "C'mon, furball. We'd better get down there before he bursts a blood vessel." She hurried down the stairs, nearly tripping over her blasted robes.
"What is the matter with you this morning?" Severus asked, giving her a warning scowl before dishing up a plate of blueberry pancakes and bacon. "Sit. Eat. You're going to be late unless you hurry."
"You want me to choke?" she muttered, chewing and swallowing as quickly as she could.
"Never mind. But why you chose today of all days to dawdle is beyond me," he said, eating his own breakfast at top speed.
"Do I really have to go? Can't I just stay home and you can tutor me?"
He stared at her in astonishment. "What kind of a question is that? You'll go to school just like everyone else. Professor's daughter or not, you don't rate special treatment. This isn't like you, Arista. Surely you can't be afraid of going to Hogwarts? You're months ahead of most of your classmates, and you already know most of the
teachers."
"It's not that. I know I'll ace my classes, wouldn't dare not to, being your daughter," she retorted. "I just don't want them all staring at me."
"Who? The other students?"
"Yeah. You know, because I'm like Harry Potter—The Boy Who Lived? Only I'm The Girl Who Healed. They're all gonna be talking about it—that I healed the Longbottoms, and whispering behind their hands and stuff. I hate it when people stare at me," she said miserably.
"Then you just stare right back at them. Like this," Snape said, and demonstrated one of his famous glares.
"Dad! I want them to like me, not be scared out of their wits."
"You're worried that they won't like you?" he repeated incredulously. "Arista Snape, what's not to like? You're pretty, you're smart, and you're my daughter." He smiled at her encouragingly. "You'll be fine. After you faced down Nightshade, you're not going
to let a bunch of silly teenage wizards scare you, right?"
"I . . .guess not," she gave him a wan smile. The truth was, she was more nervous now than she had been going to confront the dark sorceress. Then, she'd only risked death. Now she risked four years of petty slights and humiliation if she didn't fit in. She wasn't sure which was worse.
And being the daughter of a professor wasn't going to help things any, though of course she would never say that to her father. She knew some kids would hate her just for that alone, assuming that the other teachers favored her because she was Snape's daughter, even when she earned her own way and always had. And some kids would try to be her friend just because they thought she could help them get in good with her father. She didn't even want to think about how the rest of them would react, knowing she was already famous for healing two people who had been labeled incurably insane.
Maybe when the train comes, I should just throw myself in front of it. Then she shook her head. No, I can't do that to him. That's a coward's way out, and one thing I'm not is a coward. Comfrey jumped up on her lap, purring fit to burst. Arista stroked the soft cat, allowing the animal's aura to calm her frazzled nerves. At least she would have Comfrey with her to hold and talk to if things got bad. That was something, at least.
She reached up to touch her locket, which was, as always, warm to the touch and radiated a soothing wave of love. My locket and my cat. Guess I'm as ready as I'll ever be. She pushed her plate away.
"Ready?" Severus asked, waving the dishes into the sink, where they began to wash themselves. He rose and came over to stand in front of Arista. "Here, let me look at you." He eyed her critically for a moment, dabbing her face with a napkin and straightening her robes.
"Perfect. You look beautiful."
She flushed. "Well, sure, you're gonna say that."
"Hey. I don't say things I don't mean."
"So if I was ugly, you'd tell me?"
"But you aren't. Now stop worrying, you're going to give yourself an ulcer. Remember, if you have a problem with your schedule, see your Head of House. That's Professor Flitwick. If he can't resolve it, come see me, you know where my office is. I'll send
Nightfall off with a letter to Remus Lupin telling him you've finished the improved Wolfsbane Potion, and he can try it if he wants."
"It's still experimental," she cautioned.
"I know, but he may want to try it anyway. That'll be up to him." He brushed a speck of dust off of his robes. "You have a pretty heavy course load this term, but I don't think there's anything you can't handle. You'll have my class second period, I believe, so be prepared! I'm going to be doing antidotes this term, and I expect you to be the top
of my class, Miss Snape."
"I will, sir. Wouldn't want to embarrass you or anything," she said.
"Come on, put Comfrey in her carrier and let's get moving. We don't want to miss your train."
"Heaven forbid," he heard her mutter, before she opened the cat carrier and put a sleepy Comfrey inside.
* * * * * *
The train ride was not as interminable as she'd feared, she slept for half of the way with Comfrey cuddled on her lap, she had a compartment to herself for some reason. She was woken up by the friendly witch who manned the trolley of candy, snacks, and drinks, asking if she would like anything.
She bought three Chocolate Frogs, they were her favorite, and a bottle of butterbeer. She also asked for a cup of water for her cat.
"Such a beauty, she is!" praised the trolley witch, putting out a hand to touch Comfrey's silky fur.
Comfrey immediately rubbed up against the witch's hand, vibrating with purrs. "Oh! Such a sweet kitty! Part fairy cat, is she?"
"Yes, ma'am. She loves people."
"And no wonder, she's a friendly little thing." The witch continued petting the cat for a moment, then drew away and said, "Well, I'd best be getting on, else I'll have a riot. Have a good year, dearie!"
Arista picked up Comfrey and snuggled the cat up to her chin. "Thanks, kitten. You're a good icebreaker, you know that?"
Comfrey winked. Then she settled down next to Arista and began to groom her fur. Arista took out her book on healing antidotes and began to study it. Might as well get a head start, she thought, because she would have to be on her toes in her father's class. His warning hadn't been mere talk, she knew it meant he was going to push
her hard, harder than most of his students, and she meant to be equal
to the challenge.
By the time the train came to a halt, she had read half the text and was feeling marginally less nervous about the coming year. At least she knew her way around the school, and she had one friend in Neville Longbottom, who practically worshipped her after she had healed his parents. She put Comfrey inside the carrier and tucked it under one arm and her school bag over her shoulder. As she stepped off the train and onto the platform, there came an ominous rumble of thunder. Oh, great! Just what I need, a thunderstorm.
She saw Hagrid at the end of the platform, calling, "All firs' years, line up over here!" Traditionally, the first year students were rowed across the lake by Hagrid.
"Hey, Arista!" he boomed as he caught sigh of her. "How was th' rest of yer summer?"
She waved back at him, coming over to stand next to him. "It was great. How about you?"
"Ah, it was good. You've got my Care of Magical Creatures class this term, righ'?"
"Right after my dad's," she said, having already memorized her schedule.
"Good! Good! I think you'll have fun in it. Though I don't think you'll have t'rescue any more mermaids!" he winked at her, and she grinned back at him. "You best get goin', it's goin' t' storm any minute now."
"See you!" Arista turned to walk back through the knot of first years towards the older students.
As she did so, she could hear the rumor mill start up behind her.
"Who's that? I've never seen her before."
"Transfer student from America, I believe."
"That's not what I heard. I heard she's Professor Snape's daughter!"
"Seriously? Snape's got a kid? No way!"
"And she's the one who healed Neville Longbottom's parents over the summer. I read about it in Witch Weekly and the Daily Prophet."
"That's the Girl Who Healed . . .you know, Arista Snape."
"I heard her parents were divorced or something, that's why she was raised in America . . ."
Arista rolled her eyes. Here they go with the divorce thing again. Poor Dad. Next thing they'll start saying he abused his wife or something.
"I heard her mother died . . .killed by a dark witch or something . . ."
Arista forced herself to ignore them, continuing to walk toward the waiting horseless carriages that took the older students to the school. She passed a knot of third year boys, they also were whispering her name.
"I feel sorry for her . . .what with Snape for a father . . .can you imagine?"
Why how dare they? she thought furiously. How dare those little creeps say such a thing? Feel sorry for me because I'm Professor Snape's daughter! He's worth ten of THEIR fathers any day of the week!
One of the other third year boys laughed. "Yeah, he probably keeps her locked in his dungeon . . .making potions or whatever . . .maybe that's why her mother took her to America?"
Suddenly Arista had heard enough. Her temper flared and before she stopped to think, she had whirled and stormed over to the group of snickering third-years, who wore Gryffindor and Hufflepuff badges.
"If you have something to say to me, why don't you just say it to my face?" she snarled, glaring at the boy. "Or are you only brave enough to talk behind my back?"
"N-No!" stammered the boy. "Sorry."
"You should be!" she snapped, then spun on her heel and walked away, before she did something unforgivable, like pushed him into the lake. The nerve, speaking that way about my dad! Behind her, she heard the boy she'd yelled at whisper, "God, she's got as nasty a temper as her old man!"
That's right, kid. I DO have a nasty temper, especially when somebody talks trash about my father, she fumed. She clutched her locket in her fist, breathing hard, trying to regain control of her temper.
She was concentrating so hard that she bumped into a tall slender girl with curly black hair. "Oh! Sorry, I didn't mean . . ."
The other girl turned around. She was wearing Ravenclaw insignia too, and had sparkling blue eyes and a friendly grin. "That's okay. I trip over someone or something at least three times a day. You're new here, right? I'm Melinda. Melinda Seton, but everybody calls me Mel." She stuck out her hand.
Arista shook it gratefully. "Arista Snape. Pleased to meet you."
"Professor's daughter, huh?" she said knowingly.
"That's right. He's my father," Arista said proudly.
"That's cool. I'm related to staff too, Professor Sprout's my aunt, on my mother's side." Mel told her. "Not that it makes a difference when it comes to grades or anything. Everyone always thinks having a teacher as your relative means you get away with murder, but they're way off the mark with that one!"
"Tell me about it!" Arista said feelingly. "If I ever got in trouble at school, my father would skin me alive! Or ground me for life or something."
"Ain't that the truth!" Mel laughed. "One time I missed a homework assignment and somehow my aunt found out . . .oh boy, was she spitting mad! She made me weed the garden for two days straight . . .to improve my memory, she said."
"Bet it worked."
"Yup. I never forgot another homework assignment. Or if I did . . .I made damn sure she never knew about it," the other girl confided in a whisper. She grinned at Arista. "Hey, is it true, what they wrote about you in the paper? Did you really heal the Longbottoms with some kind of impossible magic spell?"
Before Arista could answer, a tall willowy girl with upswept golden hair in expensive green and black robes shoved past them. She looked down her graceful nose at Melinda and sniffed. "Well, well. Looks like Staggering Melly's found a friend." She eyed Arista scornfully. "Looks like the Giant and the Dwarf if you ask me. Better watch out, if Melly steps on you, she could kill you. She tripped over Flitwick one day and nearly squashed him flat!"
Then she burst out laughing, joined by several other pretty girls who were watching. They walked away before Arista could say anything. "Who was that snob?"
"Brittany Marsh. She's in Slytherin. Thinks she's queen bee 'round here," Mel grimaced. "Watch out for her. She's fifth year, plays Quidditch, she's their star Beater. She also likes to pick on anyone she thinks is beneath her, which is everybody, according to her. I don't think she'll give you too much of a hard time, though, seeing as you're Professor Snape's kid, and he's her Head of House."
"Why did she call you that awful name?"
"Oh, that. It's because I trip over my own feet." Mel admitted, blushing. "See, I grew three whole inches at the end of last term, and I still can't mange to make my feet do what they're supposed to. So I, uh, tend to fall a lot."
"Don't worry. You'll grow out of it soon." Arista predicted. "And when you do, I'll bet you'll be more graceful than her."
"Thanks. I guess you'd know, being a Healer. So, is it true?"
"About the Longbottoms? Yeah. I'll tell you more when we get in the carriage." Arista said, moving forward to grab one of the box- like contraptions. Thunder boomed overhead. In her carrier, Comfrey meowed. She hated thunderstorms.
They found themselves sharing the carriage with a plump blond-haired girl from Hufflepuff who introduced herself as Tricia Greenbough. Also inside was a skinny sandy-haired boy with gray eyes called Christopher Ambrosius, Kit for short. He wore a Gryffindor House badge.
All of them, it seemed, had run afoul of Brittany Marsh.
"I hate that conceited snake!" Tricia said angrily. "She calls me Bessie, like I was a cow! She's more stuck-up than a fence post."
"I don't like her much either," put in Kit. "She calls me Merlin's Mistake, 'cause I'm hopeless at Transfiguration spells. And my family is descended from Merlin Ambrosius."
"The Merlin? As in King Arthur's great wizard?" Arista clarified.
"Yeah, that's the one," Kit said, blushing. "Sometimes I wish it was someone else. Having a famous ancestor, especially that one, is a royal pain. Everyone expects you to be this brilliant wizard, and here I am . . .the family joke. I can barely turn a pocket watch into a water clock."
Then Tricia asked, "Hey, weren't you in the paper or something over the summer, Arista? They were calling you—"
"The Girl Who Healed," Arista finished. "Because I cured Neville Longbottom's parents."
"Cured them of insanity, right?" Mel confirmed "How did you do that?"
"I, uh, learned some Healing techniques in America and I tried them out and they worked." Arista improvised hastily. She didn't want to advertise the fact that she was empath, that was the last thing she needed, for people to find out she could sense emotions and project her own. She'd be labeled a freak forever.
"Now that's absolutely amazing." Kit whistled. "See, now you should have been born an Ambrosius."
Arista blushed. "I've always been able to Heal, so it's kind of instinctive. Neville told me about his parents and I figured I could try and help them, so I did. It wasn't anything anyone else wouldn't have done."
"You mean anyone else could have done," Tricia corrected. "They were in there for years and years because no doctor could figure out a cure. Until you came along."
Arista decided to shift the topic of conversation away from her incredible act of Healing, and introduced them to Comfrey. The cat was a big hit, everyone wanted to pet and hold her. Comfrey ate up the attention.
Just then, the carriages reached the castle, and they all got out and entered the Great Hall. The first years were all lined up, waiting to be Sorted into their Houses. Arista glanced over to the far end of the Hall, where the staff table was. She saw her father seated next to Professor Sinistra, the Astronomy teacher.
She quickly followed Mel to the Ravenclaw table and they sat down. Mel introduced her to several other students, they all greeted her politely. Everyone was focused on the Sorting ceremony, so Arista was able to relax and not have to answer any more awkward questions.
She made a mental note to speak to Neville as soon as she could, to tell him not to say anything about her empathic gift.
Mel nudged her and whispered, "Was your dad upset that you got Sorted into Ravenclaw and not Slytherin?"
"No, he was okay about it. He said if the Hat said I was a Ravenclaw, then that was where I belonged. He also said that no matter what House I was in, I was still his daughter. In a way, I'm glad I'm not in his House, then he won't be hovering over me so much. And that snot Brittany Marsh is there, and if I had to share a room with her, there'd be problems. Like me shoving her bed out the window with her still in
it."
Mel put her hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles. "Ooo boy, would I love to see that! But your dad would probably have a fit if that ever happened."
"Damn straight he would. And that's why I'm glad I'm not a Slytherin."
"You've got him for Potions, though."
"Uh-huh. And that means he's going to be on my back every lesson, probably. He expects me to be the top of my class. He's a perfectionist, you know."
"So are most fathers," Mel said sympathetically. "You'll probably be neck and neck with Hermione Granger. She's in Gryffindor, and one of the smartest kids here."
"I don't mind the competition, it'll help me keep my edge. And I'll make damn sure I outperform that Marsh Maid."
Mel grinned at the nickname. "The Marsh Maid. I like that. I'll have to remember that. Sounds like she ought to be scrubbing toilets or something. In any case, beating her in class won't be a problem. She only squeaks by academically. Her real strengths are Quidditch and her popularity with the Galleon and Wand set—you know, the
pretty rich girls."
Of which I'll never be, thank God! Arista thought, giving her locket a squeeze. Half the girls in Slytherin are pure-blooded bigots. I wonder how my father can stand them, seeing as he's a half-blood himself? Maybe he just pretends not to hear them, or see them, or whatever. Although, by their standards, I'd be a pure-blood, since both my parents were wizards. Unless they won't count my mom as good enough because she's an American. As if I cared what they thought anyway.
She turned about to watch the final students being Sorted, and her eyes met those of Professor Snape. He gave her a crooked smile, one that she knew no one else saw, that was just for her. She nodded and winked back, reassuring him that she was all right.
Severus caught the wink and breathed a sigh of relief. At least she's found a friend already. Thank God she won't be like me, a social outcast for most of my school days. And she was worried that she wouldn't fit in! Then he turned his attention back to Sorting Ceremony, mentally reviewing the new students in his House.
Then Dumbledore stood up for the annual beginning of the year address, and everyone hushed and looked at him. The students listened in disbelief as he told them of this year's new surprise—the Triwizard Tournament. They would be competing with students from other wizarding academies, namely Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. There would be a champion chosen from each of the three schools by the Goblet of Fire, and those three would compete in the Tournament. But you had to be seventeen or older to enter, so that let Arista off the hook.
The students eagerly discussed the Tournament, it was reputed to be extremely dangerous, apparently some competitors had died during it several years ago. But that was only to be expected, magic was a dangerous field, as Arista knew perfectly well. She also watched Dumbledore introduce the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Alastor Moody, also known as Mad-eye. He had one eye and one leg from being injured in battles with dark wizards. He had come out of retirement to teach the class as a personal favor to Dumbledore.
Arista eyed him thoughtfully, wondering how he would measure up to Colin and Jenna, who had been fantastic teachers in that subject. Or her father, who had also taught her some new defensive and offensive spells as well. From what Mel had told her, they hadn't had very good teachers in that subject two years ago.
"The only decent one we've had so far was Professor Lupin, and he had to resign because people found out he was a werewolf."
"I've met him," Arista said. "He's a really nice guy. And maybe someday he won't have to worry about his werewolf curse any more."
Mel quirked an eyebrow. "Come again? You can't cure lycanthropy."
"Not yet. But I'm working on it," Arista confided. "This past summer, I've been experimenting with extending the life of the Wolfsbane Potion, and if it works, maybe someday we can cure werewolves."
"Not too ambitious are you, Snape?" Mel whistled.
"Well, somebody should help them," Arista said. "I mean, how would you feel if you had to become a ravenous beast every month?"
"Horrible. Well, I wish you luck. And if they don't hurry up with the food, I'm going to become a ravenous beast all by myself," Mel stated. "I skipped breakfast this morning, I woke up late."
"Me too. But I still ate something, my dad made blueberry pancakes and they're my favorite."
Mel looked shocked. "Your dad cooks? Mine wouldn't come near a stove if you paid him."
Arista laughed. "Mine cooks all the time. He's really good too. I eat better here than I ever did when I lived with the Flynns." She explained to Mel about her guardians and the reason why she'd grown up in America.
At last the food arrived, and they quickly filled their plates and began eating. Arista released Comfrey from her carrier and fed the cat bits of roast lamb and chicken under the table. Maybe this year won't be so bad after all, she thought as she ate another slice of ham glazed with brown sugar.
* * * * * *
She thought differently two weeks later, though not due to any difficulties with schoolwork. She'd always been an ace at academics, and her classes were not all that difficult, even Snape's Potions. She had that with the Hufflepuffs as well as the students from her own House, and none of them could match her knowledge or expertise when it came to mixing antidotes, which were a Healer's specialty. Her
father was careful to treat her no differently then he did his other students, though he did always ask her questions that most of the others wouldn't know the answers to, to test her memory. She won more points for Ravenclaw than any other student in her House those first weeks.
Her name became a byword in her House for information, as the other students often sought her help with homework. "If you don't know the answer, just ask Snape," was a common phrase in Ravenclaw. Arista got so tired of answering questions that she and Mel made a signboard and posted it in the common room. It was titled "Ask Arista, and She'll Get Back to You". On it students posted questions and she did her best to answer them.
"Maybe I should start a study group," she said one afternoon, when she'd answered twenty notes in addition to doing her homework in four subjects. She also met with Madam Pomfrey for extra credit tutoring in medicine.
"You crazy? You already do enough around here, Arista. You're gonna burn out if you don't quit reading and studying." Mel predicted.
"I like reading. It's fun."
Mel rolled her eyes. "You're nuts, Snape."
"Takes one to know one, huh, Seton?"
"Yeah, we're both lunatics. Did you finish that essay Moody assigned us yet?"
"Got it right here," she held up a piece of parchment.
Mel examined it. "God, what'd you write, a book? Mine is only half that length."
"I grew up with Dark Hunters, remember? So I know a lot about curses and stuff." Arista explained. Their assignment had been to list and explain different kinds of curses and how to counter them.
"You know a lot about everything."
"Not everything, Mel. I don't know much about Quidditch. Or how anyone can stand to be around Brittany Marsh without wanting to put their fist through her perfect teeth."
"Wondered that myself. Guess you have to be part of her fan club to know," Mel snorted.
"Ugh! I'd sooner make friends with Hagrid's Blast Ended Skrewts. At least if they bite you it's because they're hungry and not being a malicious backstabber."
"Malicious. Now there's a good word to describe her. The Malicious Marsh Maid. I'd better write that down too," Mel got out a scrap of parchment and scribbled on it.
"What are you doing, keeping a list of all the names we make up?" Arista asked.
"Yeah, and one day I'm gonna tell her off and use all of 'em." Mel said. "When she's not got half the Slytherin team around her or her stupid pack of Brittany-Wanna-Be's."
"Can't wait to see it."
"See it? You aren't going to be seeing it, you're going to be saying it. I'll need help to remember it all," Mel said with a mischievous smirk.
"Why don't you use a mnemonic?" Arista suggested. "That's how I tutored Neville and helped him remember potion ingredients."
"Good idea," Mel said, and began to write again.
"Shouldn't you be doing your Divination homework?"
"Stuff it, Professor. This is more educational. Maybe I'll write a book someday. How to Insult A Person in Twenty Words or Less by Melinda Seton."
"It can go right next to my book, Antidotes and Anodynes: A Healer's Compendium by Arista Eileen Snape."
"Where do you come up with these things?"
"My head. Why?"
"Because I couldn't make up a title like that if I tried."
"Is it terrible?"
"Terrible? It's bloody brilliant!" Mel said. "And what's more, you'll probably really write it too."
"When I graduate. I don't have time now." Arista smiled, then took out her Transfiguration homework.
A day later, she was walking across the grounds near the Quidditch pitch when she heard a familiar voice say, "Now, Ducky, you ought of learned more respect for your betters by now. You're a disgrace to your House, you know that?"
Gales of laughter followed this statement, mainly the high pitched giggles of girls, but there were some boys mixed in as well. Arista felt her throat tighten. Oh no. Brittany's found a new victim to torment. Why can't she just leave people ALONE? Arista looked over at the grassy knoll that separated the Quidditch pitch from the rest of the grounds. Sure enough, there was knot of students standing around, watching Brittany taunt her latest victim.
Arista stiffened. Though she was careful to maintain her shields, she could occasionally feel a person's emotions through them, if that person were projecting very strongly. She could feel the boy's pain and despair coupled with humiliation like a stream of cold water dashed in her face.
It was something she could not ignore.
She had gone out of her way to avoid Brittany and her gang of bullies, not because she feared them, but because she feared she would lose her temper and get into a fight with them. Fighting would earn her a detention if any teachers found out, and a detention would bring the wrath of Professor Snape down on her head.
But this—this was too much.
She stalked over to where the other kids were watching avidly as Brittany gleefully hexed a boy around Arista's age, small with dark hair and eyes that blazed impotent hatred at the girl, for she had put a Butterfingers hex on him and he kept dropping his wand.
Then one of the Slytherin team who was watching decided to join in the fun, and tripped the boy, sending him sprawling on the ground.
The others roared with laughter. To her astonishment, as the boy tried to get to his feet, she saw a coiled serpent on his robes.
They were tormenting one of their own House. Apparently, nothing was sacred to Brittany Marsh and company.
"Aww. Poor Ducky fell down," Brittany cried. "His feet are as clumsy as his tongue."
The boy glared at her angrily and pointed his wand, but he stuttered so badly that whatever hex he tried to cast didn't work. The others watching, mainly Brittany's group of Slytherin girls and boys, plus a few others from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, all burst
out laughing at the boy's mangled curse.
"This is the way it's done, Ducky. Pay attention now!" Brittany ordered. "Expelliarmus!"
The boy was knocked off his feet by the power of her disarming charm, and his wand flew out of his hand, landing some three feet away.
Isn't anyone going to do anything? Arista wondered angrily. Are they all just going to stand around and watch? Apparently so. The boy tried to scramble to his feet and grab his wand, but one of the other Slytherin boys kicked it out of the way. It rolled to a stop by Brittany's foot. She picked it up with a nasty smirk that reminded Arista eerily of Nightshade. "Want your wand back, Ducky?" she chuckled. "Then ask me. Say please give me my wand, Miss Marsh. P-p-pretty p-p-please!"
The others howled at her mocking imitation of the boy's speech.
The dark-haired kid went bright red and shut his lips tightly, glaring up at his tormentor.
"Say it, Ducky! Pretty please, Miss Marsh!"
Several of the boys were doubled over, convulsed with laughter at Brittany's wit.
Arista had had enough. "Who the hell does she think she is? The Queen of the Universe?" she growled and began to push her way through the knot of students. If no one else was going to put a stop to this, then she would. Two years as a Dark Hunter's apprentice had instilled in her a code of honor and justice that was second to none, and she could not simply stand by and watch the poor kid being tormented
and not do something.
"Knock it off why don't you, Marsh?" Arista snapped, stepping forward out of the circle of onlookers.
Brittany turned to eye Arista coldly. "This is none of your business, Snape. Why don't y'all move along now, Yank?" she drawled in a terrible imitation of a Southern lady.
Two or three girls began to snicker.
"I'm making it my business," Arista declared, moving to stand directly in front of the bigger girl.
"Is she insane?"
"She's gonna get pulverized."
"Don't she know who Marsh is? The star Beater of the Slytherin team."
"Marsh wouldn't dare hurt her . . .that's the professor's daughter."
"It won't matter who her daddy is, not when Marsh just got her afternoon entertainment interrupted."
Arista heard all of the whispers from behind her and smiled thinly. "Leave him alone, Brittany."
"Or what? You gonna run and tell your daddy on me?"
"I don't need him to handle the likes of you, Marsh Maid," Arista sneered.
Brittany went red. "What did you call me?"
"You heard me." A sudden inspiration hit, and she chanted loudly:
"All hail Brittany Marsh, Queen of the Fen!
Slithering snakes and scorpions are her friends,
Relative to a rat, sister to a salamander,
They all worship her.
So bow your heads one and all,
To Her Most Graceless Majesty—the Hag of Slytherin Hall!"
There was dead silence.
Then Brittany screamed, "You're dead meat, Snape!" and charged at her.
But Arista was waiting for that and she slipped away from the other girl's rush. She pivoted on her left leg, bringing her right foot up in a classic strike position.
Brittany wheeled, fist lifted, and Arista leapt, quick as a dragon in flight, her foot slamming into the older girl's chest and knocking her down.
"How do you like that, Marsh Maid? It's called Flight of the Dragon."
Brittany was already climbing to her feet, mad as ten giants.
"Pound the Ravenclaw chick, Brit!" one of the Slytherin girls yelled.
Arista balanced on the balls of her feet, trying to recall all of the lessons Colin had pounded into her. She lifted her hands, ready to block the other girl's punches. Hands, get those hands up! she could hear Colin bellowing in her head.
Brittany swung a hard right, and Arista blocked it, catching it on her palm and deflecting it off to one side. Another punch, and this one was deflected too, knocked harmlessly wide. Then Arista stepped back, giving herself some space to throw a
punch of her own.
Only she forgot that Brittany's friends were behind her, and they didn't believe in fighting fairly. One of the girls grabbed the back of her collar, twisting it so she was nearly strangled. She reached instinctively for her throat, leaving herself open to Brittany's return punch.
It hit her square in the eye. Pain exploded in the side of her face, and she felt something wet trickling down her cheek. She couldn't see out of her left eye, for the blood dripping into it. Desperate for air, she choked, trying to throw off the hands clinging to her collar.
A fist slammed her in the stomach and she was helpless to retaliate. She crumpled, and the hands holding her collar let her go.
"Stop, Brit. You don't want to damage her permanently," said a boy's voice."Remember who she is."
"Oh, I'll remember, all right. She's a stupid Ravenclaw chick who got her behind whipped by a Slytherin." Brittany said, a satisfied smirk on her face. The others laughed uproariously. "Go home, Yank, with all the other rejects we shipped to America."
Arista was hurting too badly to form a coherent reply, but her quick mind thought up one. At least my home isn't a swamp like yours, Marsh. And you'd of never beat me if one of your friends hadn't cheated and strangled me.
She heard them depart and only then did she raise her head from her hands, which were sticky with blood. She was alone, or so she thought until the Slytherin boy they'd been tormenting came to kneel in front of her.
"Y-you'd b-better get to the Hospital Wing," he told her. "Y-you've got a c-cut over your eye that's bleeding r-real bad."
"Yeah, I know. Got a handkerchief or something?"
"H-here." He pressed a faded scrap of blue cloth into her hand.
She pressed it firmly to her eye, wincing slightly. "It's not bad. Cuts on your face always bleed worse than ten hells." And hurt worse than ten hells. I wish I could use my healing talent on myself. But that was the one drawback to her power. She could use it on others, but not herself.
"They always pick on you like that?"
"Nearly every day," he said slowly. "They think it's f-funny, b- because I stutter when I'm nervous."
"Stupid imbeciles!" Arista snarled. "What's your name?"
"Drake Lockwood. Thanks for trying to h-help me."
"You're welcome. Too bad it wasn't much help."
"It w-would have been, if Miranda P-Parker hadn't grabbed you that way." Drake pointed out. He held out a hand, and she accepted it. "That was great, the way you knocked Marsh down. And that p-poem was wicked too." He grinned shyly at her.
"I work best under pressure." She grimaced, for the front of her robes were covered in blood. "I'd better go change before some teacher sees me like this."
"Right. I have t-to go to class now. Herbology."
"See you around, Drake," she waved at him as he turned to go. He smiled back, then was gone, running down the path to the greenhouse.
That's one more I owe Brittany Marsh, Arista thought wearily, wishing her eye didn't hurt so much. She removed the handkerchief Drake had given her, the bleeding had almost stopped. Now all she had to do was make her way back to her dormitory and change her robes before anyone else saw her. Sure wish I had an Invisibility Cloak
or something like that. Luckily, most of the students were in class by now, and so were the teachers. She peered at her watch. She had about twenty minutes before she had to get to her Transfiguration lesson. Plenty of time to change and clean up her face.
She kept her head down as she made her way back towards the castle. Bits of her impromptu poem ran through her head and she smiled to herself. She had to tell Mel that one, the tall girl would get a real laugh out of it.
She managed to make it inside the castle unseen. But there her luck ran out. For as she started to climb the stairs to Ravenclaw Tower, squinting to see out of her good eye, who should she see but Professor Snape, returning from delivering a Stargazing Potion to Professor Sinistra.
"Arista? Why aren't you in class?" he asked, then he caught sight of the blood on her robes. "My God, what happened to you? You're all over blood!" He grabbed her shoulder, halting her escape.
"It's nothing."
"The hell it isn't. Look at me."
She slowly lifted her head. "It's just a little cut, Dad."
"What happened?" he repeated, taking the handkerchief from her eye and tilting her head up.
"I ran into a door."
"A door attached to somebody's fist. Who hit you? I want names." His voice was a low rasp of fury.
She made as if to pull her head away, but he held her chin firmly. "I can handle it myself. I may be the teacher's kid, but I'm no snitch. I was stupid, I didn't watch my back, but I'll get the idiot back someday."
"That eye needs ice and some salve. Come with me," he ordered. "You can think about your revenge while I see to your face. Was it a girl or a boy?"
She sighed. "It was a girl, of course. No boy would hit a girl unless he was a coward. But that's all I'm going to tell you."
He helped her down the stairs and into the dungeons. His classroom was empty, as it was between periods. He was seething, but he managed to rein in his temper. If I ever find out who is responsible . . .I'll give them a detention like no other. And whoever it is better pray they aren't in my House . . .Severus thought darkly.
Arista allowed herself to be led into Snape's office, where he pressed her into his chair. He moved about her, gathering a jar of salve from a cabinet, a basin and a clean cloth from a drawer. He poured water from a pitcher on his desk into the basin.
"Look up," he said, beginning to wash her face with the wet cloth.
"Dad, I've got Transfiguration in fifteen minutes," she objected. "I'm gonna be late."
"Hold still. This once, I'll write you a pass." He gently sponged the blood from her eye, to his relief the cut on her eyebrow wasn't as bad as it looked. He uncapped the jar of antiseptic salve. "This is going to sting a bit, but don't move," He took her chin in one hand and dabbed the salve on.
She hissed, her eyes watering, but remained still. "Good girl. Almost done." He carefully outlined her eye with the salve, it would bring down the swelling that was sure to follow. "This arnica and calendula flower salve should prevent that eye from bruising too badly."
He snapped his fingers and an ice pack appeared on his desk. "Hold that on there, while I write you that note." Severus ordered, finding a spare piece of parchment on his desk and picking up a quill.
"I didn't know you knew how to do spells without a wand."
"I can do some. Your mother showed me how," Snape answered, scribbling rapidly. "There. Give this to Professor McGonagall."
"You didn't tell her about this, did you?" Arista cried in dismay.
"No. I said you were assisting me with something. Keep that ice on there for another five minutes, then you can go back to your room and change. And later tonight—"
"I know, I should put another ice pack on it and some more salve," she recited. "I can heal better than I can fight."
Snape scowled blackly. "If I ever find out who hurt you . . ."
"Dad, please! Let me handle it. I'm no crybaby, to come running to you for every little thing."
"Very well. I'll let you deal with it this time. But if something like this happens again . . ."
"It won't." Arista said determinedly. I'm going to teach Marsh a lesson she'll never forget, that much I can promise you. Severus gazed down at her, pride warring with protectiveness. She's more like me than she knows. I always fought my battles alone too. Because I had to. But I don't want that for her. I won't interfere, this time. But next time, if there IS a next time, whoever did this is going to regret it, or my name's not Severus Snape.
The Potions Master gave Arista the jar of salve and the ice pack to take with her. Arista thanked him and hurried back to her room to change, the note for McGonagall tucked in her pocket. This once, she was glad she was the professor's daughter, since now she didn't have to make up an excuse as to why she was late for class.
A/N: So, any predictions about what's going to happen next???