Water-horse (Snape fan fiction)

Special Consignment

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 "I am here," began Lachlan MacMartin with great unwillingness, "because there is something in the loch which may bring you ill-fortune, and—"

"In the loch! What, an each uisge, a water-horse?" Ewen was smiling. "You cannot shoot a water-horse, Lachlan — not with a charge of small-shot!"

The Flight of the Heron, D.K.Broster (1925)

Each uisge (Gaelic — 'water-horse'): subspecies of kelpie (q.v.) related to the night-horse (ref. Cherryh, p27 and passim). The blood, tail-hairs (when in horse form) and tongue all have applications in various fields of potion-making and particularly in mind control.... Wizards should note that this creature is classified as a Level 6 predator (see Appendix VIII) and may only be obtained under specific licence.

Hoof, Horn & Bone — the Potion Maker's Guide to Body Parts, Vol 2 (Heidelburg Press 1991)

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**Ch.1— Special Consignment**

"Professor Snape?"

The Potions master, marking students' work in a pool of lamplight, failed to look up. His mouth was drawn into a thin line. The fifth year Slytherin class was one of the weakest in the House, and despite impending O.W.L.s, young Tench's Potions work had continued to be poor enough to drag the entire House average down five points. Snape's lips thinned further as he scanned the remainder of the essay, his quill underscoring omissions, inaccuracies and misspellings with jabs of vivid scarlet. Three inches from the end of the scroll, a large and hopeful blot had obliterated half a paragraph of the conclusion.

Snape studied this phenomenon, nostrils flaring unpleasantly once more, and after 'Shoddy work' appended a single, slashing 'T', and the grim phrase 'See me'. From the far end of the dungeon classroom he caught the intake of breath as the girl nerved herself to speak again.

"Yes, Miss Franklin?" Snape said sharply, not bothering to glance in her direction. His peripheral night vision had always been excellent.

Ava Franklin, fourth-year Hufflepuff, emitted the predictable suppressed squeak of dismay that had never once, since her first Potions lesson, failed to irritate him. She was hovering nervously in the doorway as if she thought he might be about to stab her with his quill. "Sir — please, sir—"

"Yes, Miss Franklin?" Snape allowed the scroll to snap shut and fixed her with cold black eyes. No coherent explanation appeared to be forthcoming. "I assume you do have some reason for disturbing me at this hour?"

Ava gulped. "Sir — Professor McGonagall—"

Under his glare, she took visible hold on her message and recited: "Professor McGonagall's compliments, and would Professor Snape please, umm, remove his Potions consignment from the entrance hall where it is causing an obstruction."

Snape sighed and laid down his quill automatically, preparing to get up and inspect the contents of this new delivery. He disliked being interrupted in the middle of marking, particularly when it was going badly, but a Potions consignment was always an event and the prospect of fresh ingredients was a not unwelcome one.

Then his gaze fell on Ava, and he picked up his quill again, his eyes glinting slightly in anticipation. "You may go, Miss Franklin. My compliments to Professor McGonagall, and you may tell her I'll be along presently."

He reached out one hand for the next scroll and unrolled it with deliberation, watching the changing expressions on Ava's face with some enjoyment. It was fifteen years since he'd last found himself in terror of the sharp side of McGonagall's tongue, but the prospect clearly had the fourth-year appalled. Snape's thin, unpleasant smile dawned.