Aleucard: The prophecy won't be revealed for a long while, not until OotP. My muse doesn't want any of the characters in this story to be evil (minus Voldie and the Death Munchers, of course), so old Albie will be misguided but with good intentions. Don't take this as me saying that he and Jen will ever see eye-to-eye, or even get along.
Armacryss: The hair in front of her face is just her fringe, which are cut to come down to her cheekbones, not the length of the rest of her hair. I knew a couple of girls in high school who had their bangs arranged like that, and aside from some second glances, no one ever bothered them about it. The other students were too busy stuffing their faces to pay attention to the new girl sniffing her drink.
InsanitySorrow 2.0: Read the response to Aleucard for my thoughts on Dumbledore. This prophecy is from Trelawny and replaces the one from canon. Jen's magic is different in that she doesn't use formal spells. Where Sirius, for instance, guides his magic into a certain form through wand motions and incantations, she analyzes what she wants and how it would work, then forces her magic to do that. It's inefficient, follows an entirely different path to achieve the same result, and takes a bit of practice and research (recall the books on physics she had in chapter 2) before she stops screwing a new spell up, but it yields an entirely new perspective on magical theory.
Honest Lunar Raven: The first task is a definite keeper, though I'm still sorting out the others. There will be more tasks; six is my goal, but I'll settle for five. It seems most of the school policies are dedicated to dividing the Houses. Part of the reason Sirius went looking for Jen in the first place is that he knew she was a witch, even if tests said she wasn't. Since she doesn't have the Horcrux in her head, something had to cause the dissonance after Voldie's attack; enter Dumbledore and his paranoia.
Moody is probably the only person who she can easily identify by shape, for a few reasons. Each material responds differently to magic, having a distinct "texture", if you will. She could feel the concentrated magic in the eye, and the leg was both wooden and enchanted, making it stand out. Individual faces are similar in shape, and it's visual clues we mostly use to distinguish people, which is part of the reason Jen can't recognize her friends when scrying; please note that this does not apply to facial expressions, which distort the forehead, nose, cheeks, and lips enough for her to make out. Scars are very different from skin, being made up of mostly acellular fibrous tissue (like tendons) rather than sheets of cells; it's why scars don't stretch well as children age and never tan.
It's that sad time, my friends. This is the last pre-written chapter of Princess of the Blacks, so there will be a bit of a lag as I try to balance publishing all three of my stories. I'm hoping – hoping – to get one chapter done a week, but doing well in my classes comes first.
Disclaimer: Did the Gryffindors ever have House rules to follow? If not, I don't own the Harry Potter franchise; it belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Press, Warner Bros., and whoever else she sold the rights to.
Chapter 12
Settling In
The rain had stopped by the next morning, though the air still possessed a crisp bite. Jen woke early and, after attempting to return to sleep, packed her satchel with her course books, parchment, quill, and ink before strolling downstairs to the common room. She waited for other students to rise, aiming to wile away the time by examining the books in the room's enormous library.
The Ravenclaw's common room was circular due to taking up an entire level of the tower and packed with overstuffed armchairs that would be extremely comfortable to curl up and read in. Two large fireplaces, situated between the door to the rest of the castle and the stairs that led to the dorms, provided heat to counter the cold stones of the uncarpeted floor. The walls, too, were stone, but there were hidden behind curved bookcases that covered every square inch of available space, from the floor all the way to the ceiling. Ladders were attached to rails on the shelves for access to the highest books.
"Enjoying the decor, Miss Black?" a squeaky voice asked from behind her. She redirected her sonar and identified the short figure of her head of house.
"That I am, Professor Flitwick." Turning to face him, she continued, "I take it that this is our monthly meeting?"
"I see Professor McGonagall has explained the process to you. We need to meet once a month at a minimum, but as I tell the first years, my door is always open. Come, let us adjourn to my office." He led her out the door and to a portrait a few dozen feet down the hall. "Curiosity is fundamental," he said, and the painting swung inwards to allow them through.
The room revealed by the opening portrait was a perfect size for someone of goblin heritage, with every item being miniature besides the two chairs in front of the desk that she supposed were meant for guests. A ring of low bookshelves surrounded him, though there were not as many books here as she expected; likely he only kept the various resources he needed as a professor in here, with his personal reading in his private rooms. Swords and warhammers were displayed above the shelves, and a tapestry was hanging behind a bench on his side of the desk. She sat in one chair and declined Flitwick's offer of tea.
"Well then, now that we are situated, I would like to discuss the house rules with you. The library you were admiring is open to all students, regardless of year, though the higher on the shelf a book is, the more it is geared towards upper level students. Private collections are, of course, allowed, but it is your responsibility to keep track of your books when they are in the common room. If you lay one down and forget about it, someone else could very easily mistake it for a House book and shelve with the rest or use it for their own purposes."
"I'll be sure to do that, Professor. Several of the texts I brought with me have special significance to the family, and I really don't want to be the one to lose them." She shuddered; Andi liked the library at home to be just so, and the Baron help anyone who messed it up. If she lost a book, not even hiding in Antarctica would keep the woman from tracking her down.
"In that case, I ask that you be especially cautious. Now, I hope you and your roommate are not having any difficulties—"
"Professor? Mandy Brocklehurst was supposed to be the girl I shared with, but she said that she preferred staying in Li and Turpin's room, so I could have one to myself. That isn't a problem, is it?"
Flitwick stroked his mustache for a moment. "It is highly irregular, but if none of the four of you have an issue, I see no need to interfere. Understand that I will be asking the other girls to verify what you have told me."
"Of course, sir."
"Very good. Ravenclaw is the home of the intelligent, so we strive to excel in our studies. I expect to see all Os and Es at the end of each term, or I will call you in here for a much less pleasant chat than this; the same is true if you fail an assignment. There are a number of sixth and seventh years who are available for tutoring in all subjects if you feel you need assistance, and they post the times for their sessions on the notice board. You may also approach me or the other professors for further explanations or more work if you need additional practice with a spell. Any questions so far?" Jen shook her head.
"I don't want you to think that we're all about grades, however. Social interactions are just as important as your assignment scores, so I encourage all my Claws to spend an hour per day with your peers engaged in something other than schoolwork. You could join one of the school clubs, work on an extracurricular project, or just relax with your friends. Anything that will keep you from pushing yourself so far that you burn out; that is the worst thing you can do. As with asking for tutors, I trust you to be mature and responsible enough to arrange your schedule without me having to look over your shoulder.
"There are forty individuals in your year, which means the student body is too large for us to keep the houses together for all the classes and still keep a weather eye out for any catastrophes. Therefore, you will share each of the core classes besides Astronomy with one other house, and electives will have all four represented.
"You may have heard of the conflicts between the Gryffindors and Slytherins?"
"I have," she replied, curious about the apparent non sequitur.
"Then you know that the worst place to stand is between them. The Muggle playwright Shakespeare once penned, 'the better part of valor is discretion'; if you find yourself in a situation that appears to be on the threshold of violence, seek shelter and leave them to their quarrel." Flitwick leaned forward over his desk, "I would prefer that you not become involved, even if one of the combatants is your brother."
Jen stiffened, how did he know? "I am unsure of what you imply, Professor."
He gave her a feeble smile. "Professor McGonagall pulled me aside after the feast last night and explained your… unique circumstances. For instance, I know about your disability. I admire the tenacity with which you have overcome it, but if you find yourself in need of help, please swallow your pride and ask."
"Who else has she told?" she demanded, furious that detail about her personal life was being spread without her consent. If the rumor mill was even half as good as Tracey had said, the entire school would know before the day was out!
"Pax, Miss Black. She has told only me, and I have told no one. Your secret is safe, but as your head of house, I have to be informed of such students so I might provide any special assistance as needed. I also know of your talent for wandless magic and, as I have said, your parentage. You may have heard your mother was a favorite of mine in school, so let me put your mind at ease; that Lily would treat any child, her own flesh and blood in particular, like she has done to you is abhorrent and not how anyone I wish to know would behave."
Her voice was grim as she stated, "Lily Potter is not my mother. I am a Black, and that is the only family that I want to be associated with. As for the actions of my 'brother', what he does is his concern so long as I am not dragged into it. My only intention as of this moment is to have nothing to do with him."
"Laudable, all things considered. Now, about your wandless magic…" Jen sighed, causing Flitwick to chuckle. "Revealing that talent was perhaps not the best option in hindsight, was it? Take heed, many of your peers will be jealous if they see you eschew a wand, and there are some who will consider it a sign of dark magic. Have you formulated a plan to avoid this, or would you care for some advice?"
"My aunts felt I should err on the side of caution, so I brought a blank wand with me for appearance's sake. Is that sufficient?"
"It should be, so long as you ensure that you carry it with you at all times and use it whenever it is possible for someone to observe you performing magic." He looked at the clock and clapped his hands in surprise. "Goodness, it is almost time for breakfast. Come, I will escort you to the Great Hall."
They arrived only a short time after the first platters of food appeared, and her guide departed for the staff table while she made for the only table that was half-full. She found a smattering of Slytherins present, though Tracey was not among them, while Hufflepuff had a dozen of the lower years piled at the end of their table nearest to the door. Of Gryffindor there were none. Many of the students here were still mostly asleep, and there were even a few who had decided that the hard wooden table made for a usable pillow. Some of them, thankfully, were alert.
She sat gently beside Padma. The Hindi girl was eating a bowl of porridge mechanically, but at least she was conscious enough to notice someone joining her. "Good morning," Jen chirped in an intentionally cheery voice, gaining a glare and an incomprehensible mental grumbling.
Padma roughly swallowed her food and stabbed her spoon into the bowl as if killing her breakfast would persuade the sun to go away and come back later. "Why are you so happy?"
"I had a good night's sleep and a productive meeting with Flitwick this morning. Also, it annoys people, which in turn amuses me." Much like their temper, most Blacks shared a somewhat wicked sense of humor, though only Sirius had to resort to childish pranks for a laugh. "Did you stay up too late last night?"
The other girl muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'Bite me' and continued with her meal. Understanding that further attempts at conversation would be meaningless, Jen pulled trays of eggs, bacon, tomatoes, and toast to her and piled food onto her own plate.
By the time she had finished, her metabolism still running high from forcing her body to rapidly heal twice in a single day, most of the school had found their way to the Great Hall and begun eating. Morag, like Jen, was a devotee of the full breakfast, while Luna, who had calmly meandered to a nearby seat, mixed together equal parts of porridge and sugar to use as a dip for her sausages while she listened to some seventh years discuss the costs and benefits of de-aging themselves to enter the Tournament for the junior champion slot. Pushing her plate away, Jen turned to Morag and asked, "Do you know what classes we have today?"
"Aye, I do." The girl glanced back at the schedule she had pulled from the center of the table. "We've only Transfiguration with the Slytherins this morning, which won't be too bad; McGonagall likes her lions best, but she's not blatantly unfair. This afternoon is all electives. Care of Magical Creatures right after lunch, and then… ugh, two periods of Divination or Arithmancy back to back. That's going to be fun."
"It won't be too bad," Padma contradicted, looking at her own chart. "Not as bad as Thursday, at least. Herbology and Runes in the morning, back to Runes after lunch, and then straight to Defense, with Astronomy that night."
"You forgot Muggle Studies, it's the same time as Runes. It's a very important subject, you know." Morag held a serious face for a moment before both girls burst into laughter.
Shaking her head at the people she seemed to be drawn to, Jen turned to Luna. "And what's your day like?"
Luna's head shot up in surprise, and she sucked the last bit of the sausage she was eating into her mouth with great force. "Care with Hagrid first, then Arithmancy for me, too. This afternoon it's Transfiguration and Defense. Perhaps I'll find out what happened to Professor Moody's wrackspurts."
"Okay, now I'm curious. You mentioned twillcks yesterday, and now wrackspurts; just what are you talking about?"
"They're made-up creatures that get printed about in the Quibbler," interjected an older boy. "Everyone knows they aren't real except for Loony."
"They are real, even if books haven't been written about them. Daddy and I have seen them." Luna's voice was sharper, missing most of its singsong quality, and Jen raised an unseen eyebrow at the girl's sudden change in demeanor.
She sent a calming spell under the table at both of them. "Leaving aside the question of whether or not they exist, I'm still wondering what they are."
"They're invisible animals. Wrackspurts can make your head go all fuzzy, and twillcks are floating worms that slurp up people's thoughts."
Padma jumped into the conversation. "If they're invisible, then how can you and your father see them?"
"We have to use spectrespecs for most of them, but you can hear twillcks chattering if you listen closely. Wrackspurts, on the other hand, have shells that shine in just the right light."
Well, that was a waste of my time. Twillcks and wrackspurts do indeed sound like hallucinations, no more real than the metaphorical man in the – Jen's train of thought jerked to a stop, her blood running cold as she replayed each of the three conversations she had with Luna. Metaphors. Wrackspurts are seen around people with confusion, or perhaps aren't seen around the clear-headed. The rumors I heard this morning make Moody out to be highly paranoid, someone who is constantly aware of his surroundings. If that's true, then… "Luna, do I have wrackspurts flying around me?"
The third year peered closely at her. "You did, but they all just floated away. Most of them are buzzing around the two next to you, now."
Buzzing around Padma and Morag because they're confused about what we're talking about. I was right; Luna and her father are seeing things that aren't real, or at least aren't tangible. It's an additional magical sense, like my sonar, probably a hereditary ability. And if I'm right, the 'twillcks' that told her my name were my own damn mental probes! She traced them back into my head when I tried to read her mind on the train!
Pushing her thoughts to the back of her head to percolate a little more, she resolved both to never attempt to lift Luna's thoughts and to get some old editions of the Quibbler. If the 'imaginary creatures' the articles spoke of were manifestations of the Lovegood family's abilities, then identifying them could shed some light on exactly what she was dealing with.
She picked her bag off of the floor and stood. "Well, if we have a block of free time, I'm going to look around the castle. Second period starts at ten o'clock, right?" Upon receiving nods from all three of the girls, she walked through the front doors and down the hallway. The pounding of a pair of feet from behind her caused her to turn around. "Was there something else you wanted, Morag?"
The girl shook her head as she approached. "Nah, I just figured you'd need someone with you in case you got lost. You know that only about half the castle is even occupied, right?"
"No, I didn't." Getting lost in an area of the castle where no one would even look for her, wouldn't that be embarrassing. "So I take it that you're my guide?"
"Why not? I doubt you know where the classrooms are, and McGonagall gets right mad if you're late. Besides, it's not like we have anything else to do."
The two girls had only a few minutes to spare when they arrived on the fourth floor, where the Transfiguration classroom and McGonagall's office were located. Now that she had walked through the myriad of hallways and passages, Jen was quite glad that Morag had elected to travel with her; several times she would have been lost were it not for the Scot's experience. The trip had been worth it, though, for she now possessed a mental map of the various classrooms and the layout of those sections of the castle. The only one she had not visited was the Arithmancy class, as much to her own chagrin Morag had chosen to take Divination. Considering that the tower the class met in was constantly filled with incense and the professor was obsessed with predicting Potter's death, she could understand her companion's displeasure.
Turning the corner brought her to three people standing outside the class. One of them had a moderate magical core, though it was a tad small, but the other two had cores that were totally at odds with their height and girth. She reached out her mind to catch a glimpse of their identities and mentally smirked; at least she wouldn't have to seek out Draco Malfoy.
"Black," he drawled out. From the movements of his head, he was looking Morag up and down. "At least one of the people you've had surrounding you is the proper sort, even if she's not far removed from Mudblood stock."
Morag shot for her wand, and it was only Jen's hand on her arm that kept her from pulling it from her pocket. The blind girl kept her voice neutral as she responded, "Draco Malfoy, I'm surprised at you; Aunt Narcissa would be beside herself if she heard you use such an uncouth term. And what do you mean, 'one of the people'?"
"The Muggle-lover hasn't been teaching you properly if you don't even know that. The Blacks are a vassal house to Malfoy, so our image will be ruined if you spend all your time with nutjobs and wogs."
Jen drew herself up to her full height. "You walk around with two gormless apes and yet you have the audacity to tell me who I should associate with?" She had listened to the two other boys' thoughts, or what apparently passed for thoughts. They were clearly not cut out to be criminal masterminds; she had never encountered minds that worked that slowly. "Someone has misinformed you, as well. Why would you ever think that the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black would be a vassal to a House that gained Noble status only two generations ago? No, if anything it is your House serving mine."
"How dare you! The—"
"I dare because I am not beholden to a foolish delusion, like some people I could name," Jen said as she interrupted his rant; this had gone on long enough as it was. "Now remove yourself from my presence and reflect on how you should properly address your betters."
Malfoy drew his wand, only to have it summoned out of his hand. For good measure, she did the same to his lackeys' wands as well. "You are a Pureblood, Malfoy; you know what a bad idea it is to turn your wand on the scion of an Ancient House. I'll have pity on you this time, however." She spun on her heel and flung the three foci down the hallway.
"You'll be sorry, Black! When my father hears about this—"
"You should be more worried about what will happen when your mother hears about it." Jen passed by the boy, silently daring him to give her a reason to loose her temper on him. Unfortunately, Malfoy did possess some form of self-preservation, as he only sneered at her and Morag. The boys ran after their wands as the girls walked into the classroom and just missed the clock chiming ten. Finding a pair of seats near Tracey, she tapped Morag's shoulder and took the space in the middle of the table.
"What was all that about?" the Slytherin asked while Jen pulled out her writing implements.
"I'm crossing Malfoy off the list of possible allies," she whispered in response, feeling McGonagall entering from a side door. "I'll tell you more after class."
"Dammit, I always miss the good stuff."
Jen walked out of the Transfiguration classroom with the rest of the class, her mind frantically trying to clear her confusion. For the first hour, McGonagall had delivered a complicated lecture on transforming hedgehogs into pincushions. The fourth year was still unsure why someone would want to use a hedgehog for any transfiguration and why, if ever in need of a pincushion to begin with, she couldn't simply conjure one, but these weren't even her main concerns.
Not once did the professor discuss the creature's anatomy! She knew from personal experience that ignoring internal structures when transforming an animal inevitably led to organs bursting out exactly when she didn't want them to, and yet McGonagall, who was considered a master in her field, hadn't mentioned that risk. It wasn't that she was behind the rest of the class, as neither Morag nor Tracey knew anything about hedgehogs besides that they were painful to sit on but otherwise impossible to find in a haystack – a long and embarrassing story, Tracey had told them with a grimace – but that still didn't explain why the woman spent so much of her time on each wand movement's importance rather than insuring they weren't covered in blood or feces by the end of the period. Was there this large a gap between how wands worked and what she was accustomed to doing?
McGonagall had eventually called on her to attempt the spell, so she assumed that the hedgehogs were little different from mice and hoped for the best. While she was correct in this instance, she would look for books on comparative anatomy in the school and Ravenclaw library. An explosion of offal later in the year would not be appreciated.
She just hoped that her other classes wouldn't be this difficult.
There was no need to worry, she soon discovered. After a quick lunch and a fruitless period in the presence of Madam Pince, she attended her first ever Arithmancy class. The professor there, Septima Vector, was only twenty-six – shockingly young for a Mistress of any field – and did not so much lecture as bounce around the classroom while chattering away at high speed. She certainly knew her subject, though, and was capable of breaking down what turned out to be an extremely intricate discipline into easy-to-comprehend chunks.
Jen had molded magic for years, but never had she realized the sheer number of aspects involved in even a simple spell. Vector demonstrated a basic charm to create a point of light, which the class referred to as Lumos, then proceeded to write its equation and variables on the blackboard. Color, diameter, strength, distance of origin from wand; by the time she had added the eighth and final component, the class's collective jaw had dropped in incredulity. The only thing that put a damper on the double period was that the Granger girl who followed Potter around couldn't keep her hand down and her mouth shut to save her life.
The next morning, she and the other Ravenclaws left the castle bright and early for Herbology, again with the Slytherins, where they squeezed foul-smelling fluid out of the disturbing lovechild of cattails and an enormous pimple, which Sprout called Bubotubers. Jen knew this wouldn't be her favorite course; after just one period, she was already contemplating burning the blasted greenhouses to the ground to avoid this class.
History of Magic was no better. She started drifting off the moment Binns spoke the first word of his lesson, and soon she succumbed to the sandman's efforts. The other Ravens and Badgers did the same, and Turpin quietly informed her afterwards that they read the book to learn the subject rather than pay attention to the specter, and they never bothered writing the essays he assigned. The final exams were graded by the other teachers, but house elves vanished the actual homework. Nodding, she mentally marked the two relevant blocks on her schedule as free time; if all she would do was fall asleep, there was no need to waste her time and attend the class.
Charms was the first time she had the misfortune of being in close proximity to Potter. She could feel him staring at her the entire period, and she couldn't even demand he stop without calling attention to the issue and revealing to Flitwick that she wasn't half as apathetic towards the boy as she claimed. By the time she left, her temper was so hot that she nearly flash-fried a younger student who made the mistake of walking too slowly in front of her.
Thursday brought Ancient Runes. The class was taught by Bathsheba Babbling, who was as old and frail as Vector was young and boisterous. Potter must have spoken to his friends about her, for Granger kept taking surreptitious glances at her. Thankfully, the rest of the previous day had been Lion free, so Jen had time to calm herself and was therefore able to ignore her watcher. When she again felt eyes flicking in her direction after lunch, she elected to forget patience and placed a compulsion on the girl to avoid looking at her. The spell was relatively weak, but it was still enough for the rest of the day. The class itself was mildly engaging, though when she spoke to Babbling immediately afterwards, she was disappointed to learn that Hogwarts students didn't learn how to create and activate runic scripts until N.E.W.T. level. She would simply have to practice Ogham on her own.
Astronomy was, in her humble opinion, a complete and utter waste of time. Ironically, the reason for her thoughts wasn't that she couldn't see through the telescope, though that was certainly true. No, what irritated her was that there were no forms of magic that required knowledge of the stars. The only celestial body that had any effect on them was the moon, but that was easily identifiable with the naked eye. Luna was kind enough to interrupt her rant during lunch the next day and informed her that Astronomy had no N.E.W.T. option, so very few students concentrated on the subject beyond what they needed to pass, not even the other Ravenclaws. Jen could have kissed her for that.
Introductions to two classes were especially interesting, however, and not in a good way.
The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs wound their way down the hallways to the dungeons, still shaking off the effects of their History class. Was that ghost capable of wandless sleeping magic while he was alive?, Jen wondered. The rapidity with which her stupor overtook her was evidence for that thought, but the fact that she was affected no more than her classmates meant it likely wasn't a spell that was used on them. Binns simply was that boring. A Badger she had yet to meet opened the door, and the students trooped inside.
The laboratory is quite nice, she thought. Each round desk had spaces for three students and their individual cauldrons, with fires produced by a cluster of runes set in a small depression. The shelves on the walls were filled with jars of all shapes and sizes; she wondered if they contained ingredients the professor had yet to render or thought were unusual.
Speaking of the instructor, she was, appropriately, giddy as a schoolgirl to be in a class taught by Potions Master Severus Snape. He was one of the youngest Masters of that field in the world, and she had heard he was an absolute genius at reaction analysis. Elsie may have made a living producing and selling potions, but she had never attended formal schooling; Snape would have a great deal more knowledge to impart. She just hoped that his skill in teaching was equal to his skill in brewing.
She sat at a table near the desk and was surprised when Susan and an unknown boy took the other two seats. "This is the girl I was telling you about the other day. Jen, I want you to meet Ernie Macmillan; he's another of my housemates."
"Charmed," Macmillan said in such a pompous voice that she had to force herself not to react in disgust.
"I'm sure", she replied noncommittally, then turned to Susan. "Why hasn't anyone taken out parchment yet? Does Professor Snape not lecture first like the other teachers?"
Susan shook her head. "Snape never lectures, not unless someone really fouls their potion up, and then he just gets nasty about it. He does give essays, though, and they're never good enough for him. How can he expect us to know enough to do his assignment if he doesn't teach us?"
This told Jen everything she needed to know. He must be a stereotypical prodigy. Potions was always simple for him, so he doesn't know how to explain the subject to anyone who has trouble. Combine that with perfectionism, and average students likely drive him to pull his hair out. This class… won't be easy.
The man in question chose that moment to slam the door open and stride in, his cloak billowing in his wake like a sail flapping in the breeze. He stalked to the desk and picked up a sheet of parchment. "Quiet down," he said unnecessarily; as soon as the students saw him, they dropped their conversations and gave him their full attention. "Hannah Abbott."
"Here, sir."
"Jennifer…" He stopped speaking as he stared at the roll, then a sneer twisted his face and he spat, "Jennifer Black."
She was understandably startled at the emotion the man showed towards her. What could have caused such antagonism? "I'm here, professor."
Snape glared at her a moment longer, then returned to the list. "Susan Bones."
Jen pondered over his actions as he called out each name. She had never even met the man, so she surely couldn't have offended him. Then there was the way he treated her surname; was there bad blood between her family and his? That was the only rational explanation she could conceive of for what happened.
The professor rolled up his parchment and carelessly tossed it onto the desk. "You will be making Thickening Solution today. Ingredients are in the cabinet," a flick of his wand opened a door she hadn't noticed, "instructions are on the board," another motion smeared magic upon the slate on the wall above his desk. "You have until the end of the period."
Susan volunteered to get the ingredients, so Jen and Ernie tended to the fires under the cauldrons that were already sitting on the desktop. The boy simply lit the pits, but she took additional time to set her flame to the perfect temperature. In a way, Snape couldn't have assigned a better potion for her.
Most potions were naturally inert, requiring someone to ingest them so that they could react with the stored magic in the drinker's core before they worked. Jen had no core, so those potions were useless for her. The Thickening Solution, true to its name, increased the viscosity of any potion it was added to, allowing it to be used as a cream for topical use, but it also was one of the few potions that contained its own magic, activating whatever it was mixed with before it was applied to the skin. Needless to say, Jen had become quite familiar and comfortable with brewing it out of pure necessity.
Susan quickly returned with enough ingredients for all three of them, and Jen organized her share in the order she would need them. With a few rough chops, she dumped a handful of daisy roots into the cauldron and moved onto skinning the next component while they stewed for five minutes.
"Th-that's not what the instructions say to do," Susan said timidly, but Jen was no longer listening. Shredding ginger, stirring the concoction twenty times clockwise, grinding fish spines into powder; she was totally involved in her task, working with the single-mindedness that Elsie had imparted to her. The ninety minutes passed quickly, and Jen finally ladled some of her completed potion into a labeled vial and stoppered it. She looked at the remainder in the cauldron and sighed. She did not want to waste it, but she saw none of the other students saving any.
She shifted her attention to the professor for the first time since she began working and bit back a gasp of surprise. Where he had expressed anger before, now his face was contorted into a hideous mask while he radiated pure loathing. A bell tolled in the distance.
"All of you, get out. Black, stay behind," he snarled. The two Badgers sitting by her offered weak smiles, but Jen waved them on, ignoring the sympathetic looks she received from the rest of the students.
Once the class was empty, he stalked over to her table. "I don't know how you did it, but rest assured, I will figure it out. I will not abide cheaters in my class, no matter how the other faculty treat you."
"Cheat, sir?" When had she cheated; in fact, how could anyone cheat when they were right in front of him? Susan's words came back to her, and she nearly groaned out loud. She had been so caught up in her routine that she hadn't realized the class was using a different set of directions.
"Yes, Black, cheat," he purred, a tone more disconcerting than any he had yet used. "For someone to come into my class without any experience in Potions and brew even an adequate example of a Thickening Solution, let alone Videki's reduced formulation, simply beggars belief."
Thank goodness, I just might be able to turn this around. "Professor, I do have experience in brewing. I was tutored for several years, and Potions was one of the courses we focused on most."
"Do you expect me to believe that the spawn of Sirius Black would put effort in anything beyond being a rule-breaking nuisance? Forty points from Ravenclaw for lying to a teacher!"
Jen took a deep breath to prevent herself from immediately speaking; Snape was already in a rage, and she knew from experience that thoughtlessly responding could end very, very badly for her. "Professor Snape, you seem to be laboring under a misconception. Sirius is my Family Head, not my father."
"You dare to disrespect me, you—" His voice halted, then he cast a shrewd glance at her. "Not… your father?"
"No, sir. He and I are from two separate branches of the family." Now that her teacher was making no moves to continue his diatribe, she picked up her bag. "If that is all, Professor," she said, then left the room. Maybe coming here was the wrong decision, after all.
Snape stood in place, the gears of his mind churning relentlessly. He looked again at the vial he held and rolled it under his thumb briefly before setting in on the table. "We'll see, Miss Black. We'll see."
Jen slipped quietly into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom a few moments before class started and took the only available desk. It was at the Gryffindor/Ravenclaw boundary, adjacent to another male Lion and behind the two Patil sisters, who were speaking softly in their native tongue. She barely had to wait before they all heard Moody clunking down the hallway, then entering the room.
"You can put those away," he rasped once he had settled himself at his desk. "You won't need your books today." Almost as one, the class put away their textbooks. He then pulled a roll out of the desk and, like Snape had, called out each name before looking at them with his prosthetic eye. He didn't hate her on sight, thankfully, though she did notice that he gave certain students, those from traditionally Dark families, a more intense examination.
"Right then," the scarred man said once all the students were accounted for, "I've had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you've had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling dark creatures – boggarts, Red Caps, hinkypunks, grindlylows, Kappas, and werewolves."
The class nodded unnecessarily.
"But you're behind – dangerously behind, in fact – on dealing with curses. I've got one year to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other—"
A student in one of the front rows – Weasley, she thought – blurted out, "What, aren't you staying?" Moody's eye swiveled to focus on the boy who, Jen suddenly realized, was the other dolt who ran into her in Flourish and Blott's that summer.
"You'll be Arthur Weasley's son, eh? I worked alongside him in the last war with Voldemort," many in the class shivered in fear, Weasley among them, "good man, your father. Yeah, I'm staying one year here as a favor to Dumbledore, then back to my well-deserved retirement.
"So, let's get started. Curses come in many forms, and trust me when I say there's no way to learn a specific defense for all of them. The Ministry of Magic," he growled the name out, "told me I'm supposed to teach you just the more common countercurses and leave the gritty details for the older years. But Professor Dumbledore's got a higher opinion of you than that, and I say the sooner you know what you're up against, the better. I'm going to show you just what dark wizards are capable of so you'll be prepared, you'll be alert. You'll put that away, Miss Brown, when I'm talking."
A girl two seats down from Jen blushed and returned her parchment to her bag.
Moody stood and pulled a fist-sized glass jar from his desk. "Who here has heard of the Unforgivable Curses?"
What followed was a test of their nerves. Three spiders, three fates. One was enlarged and held under the Cruciatus Curse until it was catatonic, not reacting even when Moody grabbed it by the pedipalps and tossed it into the air several times. Another was put under the Killing Curse, and Jen could swear that she felt a cold wind caress her as the creature died. The most disturbing, however, was the demonstration of the Imperius Curse.
That curse was the first performed, and she watched as the spider was forced to dance and turn cartwheels, eventually climbing up the edge of a glass of water and drowning itself. Moody spoke of the followers of the Dark Lord who declared they had been victims of that curse and of the total control the caster had. That was one part of the lesson she understood immediately, for every time police investigated Candyland, she had held them under a spell exactly like this and maneuvered them into various poses with some of the youngest employees while she took photos. They didn't remember what they did, since she wiped their minds of the encounter and compelled them to dismiss the reports of a local child brothel as an urban legend, but Richard still possessed blackmail on over a dozen bobbies. Blackmail that, she just learned, could land her in Azkaban if wizards ever got ahold of it and questioned him.
The students were subdued after that, and they took notes on the three curses until they were dismissed. She smiled and sighed in relief when Dumbledore announced at dinner that night that DADA would be canceled the next day; one period with Moody this week was more than enough for her.
She climbed up the stairs to the North tower, her legs burning from the exertion. She had just finished her second Potions class – Snape had watched with a curious eye but otherwise ignored her – and she refused to spend the last period of a Friday sleeping in Binns's room. From her observations, she could miss the first half of dinner without anyone becoming too suspicious, which meant she had three hours to do whatever she wished, and she knew exactly what that was.
Jen smiled as she threw off the trapdoor and stepped onto the open platform. A few deep breaths of the clean air revitalized her, and then she vaulted over the edge.
Until you sit down and work it out, you have no idea how much of a headache it is using what little information canon gives us and trying to figure out what the weekly class schedule should be for the different years and houses. We don't even know what Gryffindor's schedule is, and that's the house of the main character! Thankfully, I won't have to go through this crap again.
Jen doesn't like her first taste of wandwork, does she? I've already said there are major differences between her magic and everyone else's, so it's probably a good thing she's used to private study. As for the graphic consequences of a botched transfiguration, I've obviously spent too much time in the anatomy lab.
My wonderful yet occasionally trying muse has decided that she's going to do something different (like she doesn't have anything else to work on); many stories portray Snape as either an evil bastard as per canon or a caring, sensitive, kissing-babies-and-playing-with-puppies man under a prickly shell. He's going to be somewhere in the middle here, much closer to the former, but he won't, for instance, try to frame two people and have them executed. Doesn't mean he wouldn't read their obituaries with great satisfaction.
As for his behavior, I truly doubt, even in canon, that he harangues all of the non-Slytherin students; there are some children in other houses with political connections powerful enough to crush him. For instance, do you really see him bullying Susan, whose aunt is the head of the DMLE? Jen isn't a Gryffindor or his worst enemy's child, so Snape can cool down and view her as the heiress of an Ancient house, and therefore off-limits.
Parts of Moody's lecture come from, you guessed it, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, first American edition. If you aren't already sick of reading this disclaimer, you will be before the year's out. Jen doesn't realize how little the magical and Muggle worlds interact, hence her worry over the blackmail.
Silently Watches out.