No One's Lapdog

No One's Lapdog

Chapter one

Snape was looking as though the first person to ask him for a Love Potion

would be force-fed poison (CoS p. 177 Bloomsbury)

The conductor blew the whistle for the last time, and Rowena barely managed to heave her trunk through the door when the train slowly started to move. Catching her breath, she leaned briefly against the wall, looking around. She was in the last carriage, and could see through the window of the nearest compartment that it was already full of students. She cursed silently under her breath, and moved down the aisle, peering into every compartment as she went. Suddenly checking herself, she removed the wand from inside her robe, pointed it at her trunk and said "locomotor trunk", making it float in the air ahead of her.

She had to walk the whole length of the train till the very last carriage, when she finally found a vacant seat nearly at the end. She knocked at the door to the compartment and opened it. Three heads turned towards her, looking curiously at her.

'May I?' She pointed at the empty seats.

'Uh, right - sure,' said the boy sitting nearest to the door.

She levitated the trunk unto the rack, turned and sat down with a loud sigh. The boys were still staring hard at the tall woman with the long black hair cascading down her back.

'Haven't your parents taught you it's rude to stare at people?' Rowena frowned, but smiled when she saw the look of embarrassment on their faces.

'So, let's introduce ourselves, shall we? I'm professor Mulligan, your new Potions mistress. And you are?'

The two other boys were looking at the red-haired boy who had spoken when she entered the compartment; he seemed to be the leader of this little gang. His cheeky green eyes looked directly into hers.

'You're the new Potions teacher?' He looked as if he didn't know whether this was good news or not.

'Your name, boy.' Rowena started to feel slightly annoyed.

'Sorry.' The boy reddened slightly. 'I'm Mark Evans, a third-year, and my friends are Dennis Creevey (he pointed at the boy with the mousy hair and the flushed face), he's starting his fifth year, and my other friend (he pointed at the dark-haired, scrawny boy) is Will Turner, a third-year like me.'

'I see,' Rowena replied. 'So, which house are you in?'

'Gryffindor, all of us,' answered the red-haired boy named Mark proudly.

'That means we'll get to know each other quite well,' Rowena replied with a haughty smile.

'And why is that?' demanded the red-head.

'Because your headmistress, Professor McGonagall, has decided to make me the head of the Gryffindor house, that's why.'

Her piercing blue eyes looked hard at Mark and his friends, daring them to express any doubts as to whether this would be a good idea or not. But Mark, Dennis and Will wisely averted their eyes. Just then the compartment door slid open, and a pretty red-haired girl stepped inside. She opened her mouth to say something to the boys when she suddenly spotted Rowena.

'Oh... Hello! You must be the new Potions mistress. Pleased to meet you.' The girl stretched out her hand to shake hands politely. 'I'm Ginny, Ginny Weasley. I'm a seventh-year, and the Head Girl this year.'

She blushed slightly and looked down, like being made Head Girl was an embarrassing thing indeed. Mark sniggered.

'Ginny? Then I know who you are! You're Harry Potter's girlfriend, you were in the inner circle of those who helped defeat Lord Voldemort last year!' Rowena looked impressed.

The door slid open again, and this time it was the witch with the food trolley. Feeling hungry, Rowena got herself some pumpkin pasties and a few chocolate frogs for dessert.

*

The Great Hall was slowly filling up with students, and most of the teachers were already seated at the table. Rowena had found a seat at the very left end of the table; that way she could keep an eye on both the teacher's table and the house tables as well as having a great view towards the door were the first-years would soon be filing in. Next to her was a vacant seat; she supposed professor Flitwick would be sitting there after he had entered with the Sorting Hat. Seated at the middle of the table was Rowena's aunt, Minerva the headmistress. She looked as stern as ever, making Rowena smile apprehensively. She wondered what it would be like to work under her; she had a strong suspicion her aunt wouldn't grant her any slack for being family, quite the contrary...

Rowena freezed, holding her breath for a moment. She had just discovered who was seated on Minerva's right. It was Professor Severus Snape. Staring disapprovingly at the sallow-skinned and greasy-haired man, she remembered her first encounter with him. She had been eleven years old, she had been so excited going to Hogwarts. She had sat in her first Potions class, eagerly waiting for the lesson to commence. Then Snape had entered the classroom, thin and dark, black-eyed and mysterious-looking, his black cloak billowing around him as he walked, making her eye him with butterflies in her stomach. But what had really made Rowena's eyes glitter and her mouth sag open, were the Potions master's first words to his class. She could still remember some of them: '...the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids ... bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses...' Rowena knew then that Potions was going to be her favourite subject.

But the bliss and excitement hadn't lasted more than a few minutes. Snape had turned on her, embarrassing her with biting remarks about her first cauldron-full, humiliating her. Rowena wasn't the only one in her class who had to pay; most of the Gryffindors got their share; only the smartest and most skilled of the Slytherins seemed to avoid Snape's poisonous tongue and ridicule. Rowena could still feel the embarrassment, the resentment and the anger flowing over her like a great wave. But she hadn't permitted herself to be let down; she had always been a proud, stubborn and strong-willed girl, so she had fought back her own way; working hard, doing well. She had been one of the best students in her year, even in Potions. It gave her great satisfaction thinking about how she had defeated Snape by getting full marks in her final NEWTs. She became suddenly aware that Snape had noticed she was staring at him, and she was not surprised to discover that he didn't look very pleased to see her. She made a grimace before turning away.

Rowena enjoyed the rest of the evening, avoiding looking directly at Snape. Instead she concentrated on the excellent food, talking pleasantly to Professor Flitwick and studying the students in the hall. At last McGonagall got up from her chair, announcing that the feast was over and that it was time for bed. Rowena noticed that Snape got up from the table rather quickly, excusing himself. But he didn't get far. Someone at the right end of the teacher's table, a tired-looking fellow in shabby clothes, stopped him in his stride to talk to him. Snape looked thoroughly annoyed, and just nodded impatiently at what the other wizard was saying. Rowena thought he was being rather rude. Then they quickly shook hands, and Snape strode away swiftly, his black robe billowing in that very snapish way. She caught herself staring after his retreating figure. It annoyed her to admit it, but despite his unpleasant personality, she had always admired him. Potions was, after all, her favourite subject, and Snape was by far the most skilled Potions master she knew.

She got lazely up from the table and walked slowly towards her quarters. Her office was on the third floor, and it had been stocked with all the Hogwarts supply of potion ingredients. She wondered what Snape felt about having it removed from his office, as he had been the Potions master of this school for the last seventeen years. She didn't have to wait long to find out. She had barely reached the door of her office when Snape swiftly rounded the corner, heading straight for her. His upper lip curled unpleasantly.

'Mulligan. Hate to disturb you,' (she could see he meant the hate-part) 'but I need a couple of ingredients for a particularly difficult potion I've been asked to make. I have a private store myself, but am short on myrtle essence and unicorn's hair.'

'And why would you be making that particularly difficult potion when I'm the Potions mistress around here now?' she asked icily.

Snape smirked at her.

'For the simple reason that not many people are as qualified and skilled as I when it comes to making the Wolfsbane Potion. You may have noticed me speaking to Lupin the werewolf just a few moments ago. He wants me to make it.' There was a triumphant look in his cold, black eyes.

She felt anger rise in her stomach. She sneered slightly at him, but answered in a controlled voice,

'I'm happy for you. It must be emotionally straining to have to step back and have a former student taking over your precious Potions position.'

Snape looked at her derisively.

'I'm glad you admit it yourself, that you're merely a child when it comes to the art of potion-making. I must say I don't expect you to be up to the usual standard, teaching Potions.' He smiled coldly.

She gritted her teeth at him.

'Since your memory seems to be very poor, Professor Snape, may I remind you that I graduated as the best student in my year, with top marks in Potions. Even you couldn't stop me doing well, though you certainly tried your best.'

Snape's face turned very ugly, but his voice was dangerously quiet.

'I advice you to watch your mouth, young lady. Don't fool yourself into believing I can't make your life miserable just because you're one of the staff now.'