The Fire You Touch

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Chapter 8: Enter Gilderoy Lockhart

Aeryn adapted into Hogwarts surprisingly well, figuring out how to navigate the winding corridors with little or no help from the myriad of castle paintings and resident ghosts. She preferred it that way, especially after a particularly nasty episode when she was hurrying from Transfiguration to Charms and asked Peeves the Poltergeist for directions. Five minutes afterward, she had found herself in the very depths of the Hogwarts dungeons, and was forced to wait until the Fat Friar came sailing by to help her climb her way out. Luckily, Professor Flitwick had understood, but Aeryn had made it a point to stay as far away from Peeves as humanly possible from that point on.

Still, Aeryn couldn’t deny how wonderful Hogwarts was. Every corner of the place oozed with magic, from the subtly shifting tapestries that showed a different pastoral scene every time she passed, to the ancient rusting armor that creaked and squeaked greetings to her; from the ephemeral ghosts that passed her in the halls to the giant squid living in the moat surrounding the castle. Everywhere she turned, the heritage of magic-users from days past—her heritage, now and forever, never mind that she wasn’t exactly a witch—surrounded her. It was a dream come true.

Classes, however, required a bit more concentration than Aeryn had anticipated. In order to keep McGonagall from becoming suspicious in Transfigurations, Aeryn pretended to struggle through changing matches into needles. When she was supposed to change a teapot into a tortoise, Aeryn made her turtle breathe steam and have a china-blue patterned shell, even though a simple illusion would have created a perfect transfiguration. Even after these ‘mistakes,’ Professor McGonagall felt Aeryn’s talent was far beyond her years, and decided, after a week, that Aeryn was ready to take the pre-exam for Transfiguration. Changing a mouse into a snuffbox was extraordinarily simple, and Aeryn passed with flying colors.

The same thing happened in Charms. For Aeryn, ‘casting’ spells in Charms class was twice as hard as ‘changing’ objects in Transfiguration. While Transfiguration relied solely upon her ability to trick the teacher’s mind with an illusion, Charms forced her to actually produce the effect of the ‘spell’ on Professor Flitwick. In order to do that, Aeryn had to use her telepathic powers to get into Flitwick’s mind and cause him to react in very specific ways. Although she was careful never to read the professor’s thoughts—that was the only power she refused to exercise with her talent—meddling with his view on reality made her very uncomfortable and unsure. She almost slipped completely when she cast a Laughing charm on him and almost made him start reciting Walt Whitman poetry instead. It was a matter of sheer concentration, and after every Charms class, Aeryn stumbled back into Gryffindor Tower with a splitting headache and fell into a deep, exhausted sleep. It was a relief when Professor Flitwick finally decided that Aeryn had caught up with the first year coursework. For her pre-exam, Aeryn made a pineapple tap-dance across his desk, and left the room feeling quite proud of herself.

With the two true ‘magic’ courses out of the way, Aeryn was able to store her mutant powers away for a while and concentrate on classes that involved more practicality than magic. Magical Theory and History was boring, but Aeryn found it almost relaxing to copy down dates and notes while McGonagall explained the invention of self-stirring cauldrons and the Werewolf Uprising of 1673. Now that she wasn’t in Charms anymore, Professor Flitwick took Aeryn to the towers late at night and taught her some rudimentary Astronomy. Aeryn had already taken some Astronomy in her middle school, and was able to follow the course of the planets and stars with relative ease.

In Herbology, Professor Sprout coached Aeryn how to tend magical plants like Mandrakes and Venomous Tentacula. Plants that moved and shrieked like live animals were a bit of an adjustment, but Aeryn caught the hang of it quickly and soon was transplanting wriggling flowers from one pot to another as if she had been doing it all her life. Professor Sprout was fun to work with, too. She treated Aeryn more like a little sister than a student, and after lessons would brew odd-smelling pots of tea and play wizard chess with her. Aeryn usually lost, mainly because the chess pieces all had minds of their own and wouldn’t do what she said, but it was a nice break from studying.

Care of Magical Creatures was Aeryn’s easiest class by far. Once Hagrid found out about Aeryn’s friendship with Harry, their classes consisted of eating homemade treacle fudge and gossiping over scalding cups of tea in his small hut. The closest Aeryn ever got to magical creatures was when Fang, Hagrid’s huge black dog, drooled on her knee, but every so often Hagrid would share stories involving some dangerous creature he had raised as pet.

"Eh, yeh shoulda seen Norbert when he was a baby, Aeryn," Hagrid said one afternoon, his beetle-black eyes misting over. "Cutest lil’ tyke he was! An’ such a sweet dragon…" He blew his nose loudly. Aeryn, who had already heard about Norbert from Harry but with a slightly differing opinion of the lil’ tyke, nodded sympathetically. But, all things considered, she could tell that she and Hagrid would become great friends over the course of the year.

Professor Snape was a totally different matter altogether.

The Potions classroom was in one of the dungeons, and was cold, with a damp chill that crept into your lungs and made you cough. The room was lined with pickled animals floating in jars, and Aeryn had to try very hard not to look at them. The first day of class, Aeryn had taken a wrong turn to the dungeons, and ended up running into the room five minutes late, her hair in disarray and her cheeks flushed from running. Professor Snape was waiting, and the shriveling look he cast upon her was even colder than the air.

"Let us get one thing straight, Miss Blake," he hissed once she sat down, trying to catch her breath. He placed his long fingers on her desk and leaned over until his face was bare inches away from hers. "It matters very little to me that Dumbledore has taken you under his wing and allowed you to attend Hogwarts. If the choice had been up to me, you would not be here." His black eyes were blistering, empty and dark as a winding tunnel. "But, as our Headmaster obviously has his reasons for accepting you as a student, I shall be teaching you the subtle and delicate art of potion-making. If you think some foolish wand-waving will help you pass this class, let me squash that hope immediately. A potion is a work of art, and I expect nothing less than perfection."

Snape had then set her to work preparing a simple potion to cure boils. Fortunately, the years of having a fuming housewife breathing down her neck while she tried to scrub red wine stains from a white Berber carpet had blessed Aeryn with a cool head and a steady hand, and she had prepared the potion without spilling so much as a porcupine quill.

"Wipe that smug look off your face and sit back down," had been Snape’s only words after she had successfully completed her brewing. For the rest of the hour, he had bombarded her with the names and variants of the fifty most essential ingredients used in making potions.

Defense Against the Dark Arts, which directly followed her Potions lesson, was no better. Aeryn had frantically taken notes as Snape paced the room, lecturing about vampires and the many different ways to ward them off.

"You’re going too fast," she complained finally as a third sheet of scribbled notes slipped from her desk to the floor.

"Use better shorthand, then," he snapped, and resumed his lecture. Aeryn stumbled from the dungeon an hour later, her hand cramped, head spinning, and her legs like jelly.

The relationship had gone downhill from there. Snape could always find something wrong with Aeryn’s technique, whether it was that her mandrake roots were not chopped finely enough or that her Forgetfulness Potion was a shade too dark. Eventually, Aeryn found it easiest not to say anything at all, lest he blister her with his scathing, sarcastic comments.

"He’s a big, bullying git," Aeryn told Hagrid furiously one afternoon.

Hagrid chewed solemnly on a piece of cake and shook his great head. "Well, Professor Snape’s not exactly friendly, but he’s got a good heart."

"What heart," Aeryn grumbled into her mug of tea.

Hagrid gave her a disapproving glare. "C’mon now, Aeryn. Give’im a chance."

"Whatever." But now that she was free from the confines of the dungeon, Aeryn felt a smile returning to her face, even as Fang slobbered all over her knee.

* * *

"Professor Snape?"

Aeryn hesitantly pushed open the door of the Potions classroom. The room was empty save for the pickled animals bobbing along the walls. Breathing a sigh of relief, Aeryn slipped into the room and hurried over to her cauldron, a loaner from Professor McGonagall since she had been unable to shop for her own yet. It was a half-hour before her Potions lesson with Snape, and Aeryn wanted all the time possible to prepare for today’s lesson. She was supposed to be making a particularly complicated Sleeping Potion this afternoon, and had found a book in the library that explained the process simply and without commenting on her intelligence. Aeryn pulled the book from under her arm and sat down on the floor, opening to the section on Sleeping Potions.

Only a week and a half more of this,

she told herself, and then school starts. Real school. Not this one-on-one torture. She couldn’t wait for the rest of Hogwarts to arrive at school. She missed Harry, and she couldn’t wait to meet Ron and Hermione, his two best friends. Just that morning at breakfast, Hedwig had flown into the Great Hall and dropped a letter on Aeryn’s lap. It was from Harry.

Dear Aeryn,

the letter read:

I’m staying with the Weasleys for the rest of the summer—Ron and his brothers rescued me from the Dursleys shortly after they arrived back from holiday

(good for Ron, Aeryn thought). How’s the testing going at Hogwarts? What do you think of everyone so far? Ron and Hermione and I are going to Diagon Alley on Wednesday to buy our school things. Can you make it then? I’d love to see you there. Hagrid would be happy to take you, I’m sure. Owl me back and let me know if it’ll work. Hope to see you soon!

Love,

Harry

"O’ course I’ll take yeh!" Hagrid had boomed after seeing the letter. "Yeh need teh be getting’ yer school things anyways—got a lot teh git, seeing as how it’s yer first year ‘n all." McGonagall gave Aeryn permission to skip her classes on Wednesday and promised to give her a list of supplies she would need before she left.

But it was only Tuesday, and Aeryn still had to slough through the three-hour block of Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Aeryn was rereading the section on how fine to mince the three tablespoons of monkshood when the door of the dungeon creaked open. Aeryn hastily slammed the book shut and kicked it underneath her cauldron.

"Afternoon, Professor Snape," she exclaimed, bracing herself for the expected blast of sarcasm from Snape’s mouth. She rose to her feet and turned around, and her jaw dropped in surprise as she saw a man standing in the middle of the room who was most definitely not Professor Snape.

The wizard flashed a set of dazzling-white teeth at Aeryn and winked. He was very good looking, dressed in a pair of forget-me-not blue robes that matched his eyes, and a pointed hat set at a jaunty angle upon his wavy blond hair. "A very good guess, my dear girl, but quite incorrect," he exclaimed merrily.

"Ah…hello," Aeryn said after a moment.

"Although I must say, I suppose I should get used to being called Professor, shouldn’t I?" The wizard spread his hands with a flourish and smiled expectantly at Aeryn.

Aeryn looked at him, puzzled.

The handsome wizard raised an eyebrow. "I see you are stunned at actually meeting me in person. How delightful! Not entirely unusual, however…once I managed to cause a whole village of witches to faint at my mere appearance!"

"What?" Aeryn was now quite confused.

The blue-robed wizard stepped forward, peering over Aeryn’s shoulder and into her cauldron. "Preparing for Potions! Ah, I see you’ve been doing a bit of light reading…you should read my Gadding with Ghouls, you know, there’s a very nice passage in there about me brewing a love potion for a lonely banshee…"

"Who are you?" Aeryn asked, stepping backward as the man approached.

His grin was blinding. "Oh, you can hardly think clearly, can you? My presence sometimes does that to people." He nodded his head, striking a pose. "Perhaps I can help jog your memory? Winner of Witch Weekly’s Most-Charming Smile Award five times in a row?"

Aeryn gaped at him, dumbstruck.

"No? Perhaps some of my works then. Magical Me? Year of the Yeti?" He was advancing towards her rather quickly now, and Aeryn stumbled over her cauldron as she tried to avoid him. "Traveling with Trolls? Wanderings with Werewolves?"

Aeryn’s foot slipped beneath her and, with a squeak, she toppled over onto her back.

"Now, my dear, there’s no need to fall at my feet! Please get up!" The man bent down and proffered his hand to Aeryn, who very nobly did not flinch away. "Gilderoy Lockhart is nothing if not modest! You make me blush with your devotion, you really do!"

"Modest?" Aeryn gasped as he pulled her to her feet. "I—"

"You must be the young lady Professor Dumbledore told me about," Gilderoy Lockhart interrupted her, putting an arm around her shoulders. "Imagine, a girl your age unable to attend wizarding school until now! How very fortunate that Albus took pity on you and decided to admit you, even at your advanced age!"

"I—"

"And of course, I will do everything in my power to make sure you are prepared before you start classes this year," Lockhart went on, peering into her empty cauldron. "Now, what were you so engrossed in doing before I so flabbergasted you with my appearance?"

"I…Potions class…studying…" Aeryn mumbled, trying to break free of Lockhart’s grasp. Where, oh where was Professor Snape? Aeryn shot a frantic look towards the door, but her head shot back around as Lockhart drew her book from beneath the cauldron and flipped through the pages.

"Ah, yes, you would be working on Sleeping Potions now," he murmured, using his wand to turn to the page Aeryn had last been studying. He glanced down at the directions, gave a small laugh, and tossed the book across the room. "Well, Sleeping Potions happen to be one of my specialties! One time, when I was in Bulgaria…"

"I…Professor Snape…my teacher," Aeryn said despairingly as Lockhart waved his wand merrily and a bundle of bottles appeared on the table beside her cauldron.

"Now, let’s see…ah yes, a pinch of this, and a dash of that…" With a flourish, Gilderoy Lockhart rolled up his sleeves and began to add ingredients to Aeryn’s cauldron. A flicker of flame spat at the bottom of her cauldron and began to heat the ingredients.

"You know," Aeryn exclaimed hastily as Lockhart added a handful of crushed scarab beetles, "Professor Snape is teaching me Potions, and I’m not really sure if he’d like you to—"

"My dear, Severus will be more than happy when he discovers I have taught you this potion," Lockhart reassured her, dropping a spoonful of newt eyes into the cauldron. Aeryn winced as the liquid inside turned bright chartreuse and a foul stench filled the air. "He’s quite a character, don’t you think?" The mixture inside Aeryn’s cauldron began to bubble ominously, but Lockhart paid no attention as he stuck his wand tip into the mixture and gave a quick stir.

"Mr. Lockhart, sir," Aeryn began, backing away slightly as her cauldron began to rock back and forth.

Gilderoy Lockhart screwed his handsome face into a scowl and reached for a bottle of powdered wormwood. "Professor, my dear, after all, I will be your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year…or didn’t you know that?"

"What?" Aeryn shrieked.

Lockhart unscrewed the powdered wormwood and dumped half the bottle into the cauldron. Aeryn’s cauldron halted, shook once, and burped. Aeryn’s eyes went wide as the metal slowly began to turn a bright red.

"Odd," Lockhart said, frowning at the cauldron. "It shouldn’t be doing that."

Aeryn opened her mouth to comment, but was suddenly hurled to the ground as a black-cloaked figure flung itself on top of her. A shout ricocheted through the air, and the glowing cauldron flew through the air a nanosecond before it erupted with a brrrouuup. Aeryn instinctively flung up a protective telekinetic shield as the cauldron’s glowing contents splattered all around her. The remains of the cauldron clanged against the opposite wall and collapsed with a hiss against the floor.

Gasping for breath, Aeryn drew herself up on one arm in time to see Professor Snape grab the stunned Gilderoy Lockhart by the throat and slam him against a nearby desk. As Lockhart struggled, Snape easily pinned his wand hand to his side.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Snape snarled.

"S-S-Severus," Lockheart stammered weakly, a sickly smile forcing onto his lips as he reached up to clench the hand around his throat. "Why—what a pleasant surprise—"

"As the school’s Potions master, my presence should hardly be a surprise, Lockhart." Snape’s coal-black eyes narrowed and his hand tightened slightly on Lockhart’s throat.

Lockhart coughed. "I was—I was merely instructing—this young lady—"

"You never combine crushed scarab beetles and powdered wormwood in a Sleeping Draught!" Snape hissed, thrusting his hooked nose directly into Lockhart’s face. "Never! The mixture combines into a liquid powerful enough to eat the flesh from your bones!"

Lockhart squeaked.

Aeryn looked down at the ground. All around the edges of her telekinetic shield were steaming pockets where the liquid had hit the ground. She shivered.

"Professor Dumbledore—" Lockhart’s voice was choked "—Dumbledore said that—I was supposed to teach—"

"Miss Blake’s Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons are not until two-thirty," Snape interrupted, the words drawn from between his clenched teeth. "May I add, Professor Lockhart, that I have been in charge of Miss Blake’s education up to now, and see no reason to turn her over to you until the beginning of the school year."

"Dumbledore said—" Lockhart began.

Snape’s fingers clamped even harder around Lockhart’s neck. "Headmaster Dumbledore has given me specific instructions to finish Miss Blake’s first-year education, and that is what I intend to do."

"Really—Severus—" Even in its choked state, Lockhart’s voice was haughty. "I think—being the hired professor for the Defense Against the Dark Arts—if you’ve ever read my books—you would agree—"

Snape pushed down on Lockhart’s neck, cutting off the handsome wizard’s speech in mid-sentence. "Don’t give me that, Lockhart," he spat, his voice dangerously soft.

Lockhart clawed at Snape’s hand. "Severus—"

"I know the truth behind those books," the Potions master whispered into the struggling wizard’s ear.

"I never—I don’t know—"

"Two words, Lockhart," Snape hissed. "Memory. Charm."

Lockhart’s forget-me-not-blue eyes popped wide and he ceased struggling for a moment.

"Yes," purred Snape. "You understand, don’t you?"

Lockhart gurgled, pulling at Snape’s hand.

"Stay out of my business, Professor Lockhart, and we’ll get along just fine," Snape murmured, his fingers locked across Lockhart’s throat.

"Sev—let me go—"

Snape’s black eyes flashed fire. "Miss Blake’s education for the rest of the summer is my business, Lockhart," he stated firmly. "And remember, for as long as you teach here at Hogwarts, I, Severus Snape, am the Potions master."

"I—"

"Swear it!"

Snape snarled, his lip curling.

"I—swear—it—" Lockhart choked, his face turning a brilliant purple.

"That’ll do," Snape said casually, and released Lockhart’s throat. The handsome wizard crumpled against the desk, coughing violently as the Potions master stepped away from him, his sallow face impassive.

"Miss Blake." Snape turned to Aeryn. "Are you all right?"

Aeryn, frozen to the floor, nodded once. She opened her mouth to thank the professor, but stopped as he stepped beside her and glared down, his eyes catching and pinning her.

"You are never to prepare a potion in this classroom without my permission," he said softly.

Aeryn shrank back against the stone tiles. "Professor, I—"

"If you ever again disobey my rules, Miss Blake, I shall have you expelled from Hogwarts before you can blink." Snape’s lips firmed into a thin line of displeasure. "Now. After you clean up this mess you have made, we will continue our lesson." He turned on his heel and stalked to his desk, his black robes billowing out behind him.

Aeryn struggled to her feet, her head reeling. With unsure steps, she walked over to the opposite side of the room, drawing her wand as she avoided the still sizzling spots where the failed Sleeping Draught had fallen.

"Professor Lockhart." Snape’s voice was cold as he curled over the papers at his desk. "Leave my classroom."

Lockhart, still crumpled on the floor, climbed to his feet. He coughed twice and stumbled towards the door, the imprint of Snape’s fingers still on his throat. Aeryn chanced to look up as Lockhart reached the classroom, and the sight that met her eyes stilled her fingers. Then the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor slammed the dungeon door.

Snape raised his eyes from a curling parchment and fixed Aeryn with a stare. "Continue, Miss Blake," he snapped.

Aeryn hurriedly began levitating the scraps of her ruined cauldron from the floor, but the sight of Gilderoy Lockhart’s face, twisted into a mask of pure and horrible hate as he glared at Snape, burned vividly in the back of her mind.