Begin Again (Severus Snape/OC Love Story)

Chapter Six: Echoes

        The rest of the day's classes passed by in a blur. I refused to allow the confrontation with Snape to ruin my first day, and gave my utmost effort in my other lessons. Luckily, on the way to Arithmancy, I unexpectedly encountered a rather delightful portrait of a pleasantly gentle giant sipping tea with a shimmery gold-and-green leprechaun. The giant, Enzo, observing that I looked lost, kindly offered me directions along with a "spot of tea" if I'm not in a hurry next time. Thanks to Enzo, I showed up just five minutes late to Arithmancy, an offense that was forgiven – "just this one time" – on account of my newness.

To my chagrin, a mass of homework was piling up quickly; Professor Vector had assigned a forty-two-centimeter essay on the Chaldean Numerology system, which I had begun to tackle during my break after lunch but was only successful in completing a quarter of.

Professor Slughorn, whose class I decided was my favorite so far, had turned out to be an exceptional teacher. We spent the period competing to see if anyone could successfully brew a Draught of Living Death sufficient enough to earn a vial of "liquid luck" – Felix Felicis – in reward. The prize, a golden metallic liquid, would provide its user with a few hours of outstanding fortune.

Brewing the Draught of Living Death proved to be a challenge; Ron adequately concocted a pasty, vile-looking tar, while Hermione, though eventually reaching an opaque, passable draught, spent most of class stirring out the lilac coloring. Even Ernie, who prided himself in his skill at potion-making, sulked in irritation after the contents of his cauldron began to reek of vinegar, went navy-blue, and began leaking out onto the floor, having eroded a hole in the cast-iron.

I'd laughed at him and said, "it's really not so difficult; just focus on the brewing... visualize," mocking his earlier comment in Defense Against the Dark Arts – then regretted my sassiness when mine wasn't much better. The murky black-brown contents bubbled angrily as Professor Slughorn came by to judge the results, earning me a solid 'P,' a very unpleasant look of disappointment from Slughorn, and a snicker of derisive laughter from Ernie. I promised myself I would be more diligent in Potions from now on, having rarely ever earned a score lower than an 'E' in any subject.

After awarding Harry the prize for his flawless, impeccably clear potion, Slughorn – to my relief – gave very little homework: a short summary explaining what likely went wrong in today's lesson, no specific length so long as we provided ample reasoning.

It wasn't until after dinner that, apart from eating, I took time to focus on something other than schoolwork. I had been chatting with Ginny, filling her in on the day's events – intentionally excluding the bit about my quarrel with Snape – when Ernie found me, ready to begin my grand tour.

"Ready to go then?" Ernie asked excitedly, just as Ginny finished telling me how a boy in her Charms class, Dean Thomas, had valiantly come to her rescue when a fire-producing spell went horribly wrong, resulting in her socks catching fire. There was admiration in her tone as she told the story, eyes dazzling with elation.

"Oooh, where are you two off to then?" she asked, a suggestive tone in her voice.

I shot her a 'please-shut-up' glare. "Ernie offered to help me get to know Hogwarts better. You know – so I don't have to keep relying on portraits to save me from missing classes," I said repressively.

"Well, all right then," she gave me an impish smile. "Have her back by curfew Ernest!"

****

Ernie, incidentally, had turned out to be as good a tour guide as he was a wizard, and I was feeling quite assured that I wouldn't have as much trouble finding my lessons tomorrow. Hopefully, anyway. Unfortunately, however, he didn't have the same sound judgement in Quidditch teams. He had changed out of his school uniform and was now sporting a bright tangerine-orange Chudley Cannons t-shirt and jeans.