Unfurling of a Rose

Chapter 2

After much ado at the dinner table, and when the plates were spotless and stomachs were considerably fuller than before, each House headed for their own common room. As the Slytherins exited the Great Hall and descended a flight of stairs, Corielle trailed behind Marcie and Vic. The two sixth-years were as kind as to be expected to Corielle, though they were slightly distant with the newcomer; being Slytherin, their instinct was guilty until proven innocent, and though they actually felt Corielle a fine, if timid, addition to the Slytherin family, they were not about to let her know it. Still, they led her in the easiest way to the Slytherin wing (a few trapdoors and doors behind tapestries) down in the dungeons.

In one of the murky underground corridors, the Slytherins came to a halt in front of a great bare expanse of stone. Leaning forward, Marcie announced the new password.

"Grindelwald."

For a moment, there was no reaction, and Corielle worried that they might be in the wrong place or using the wrong password. But then the wall folded back to reveal a dark common room, cold, stark, and not at all welcoming. It was softened only by several green lamps and an enormous fire burning at the opposite side of the room. The flames did not succeed in dissipating the overall chill, physical and spiritual, that permeated the air of the dungeons, perfumed with scents such as burnt paper, spices, carrion, and preservatives. Marcie explained in an undertone that the smell was due to the fact that the Potions classroom was directly adjacent to the Slytherin quarters. In front of the fire were clusters of winged chairs. In the largest of these chairs reclined a man. All Corielle could see was his legs, but somehow, without having Marcie or Vic explain, she knew that this was Professor Snape, the Head of Slytherin House.

"I've heard he's changed a lot since last year now that the Dark Lord's dead," Marcie whispered to Corielle.

Professor Snape sat brooding into the fireplace as he heard the rumbling of his pupils footsteps. He gave no indication that he knew they were there.

The summer break had been a strange sort of limbo, and though he despised teaching idiots and morons who did not care about his subject, he was glad he would have something to occupy his time. And maybe... just maybe there would be one or two students up to scratch. Both Potter and Longbottom, to his lasting surprise, had managed to graduate the year before, thank Chrestomanci for small mercies. And Draco Malfoy was back this year, by all appearances apparently wiser after two years' absence.

Who knew? Maybe this year would be even a quarter decent, although he would have to deal with Shaman and Fireflow, the Catastrophous Couple, for yet another term; Snape speculated this with distaste. Sometimes those two were worse than the Weasley twins in their own way, particularly since they were Slytherins, and therefore his responsibility.

Once certain that all his Slytherins were assembled, he swept around to face them, glowering at all of them.

"A new year," he said. His tone was soft, but he never needed to raise his voice to be heard; it carried effortlessly over the silent students. "A year of peace and turmoil, trials and tribulations, destruction and reconstruction. I will expect nothing less than perfection from my Slytherins." He surveyed the students, and his contemptuous sneer made it obvious to the assembly that many would not satisfy his expectations. Such was the power of his convictions that the students were willing to do anything to deserve praise by their Head- or die trying.

"Salazar Slytherin demanded his students to achieve greatness far above the average rung, and he chose accordingly. Before he succumbed to insanity, he was considered the greatest of the Hogwarts Four. The reason for this was his desire for students with great ambition and great abilities. It was with this desire that he collaborate with the other three founders to establish the greatest wizarding school of all time. Salazar's emphasis on ambition became the criteria for all who entered his House, even though this quality is considered by some to be Slytherin's fault. Despite this dismissive attitude of the general populace, as we in the Slytherin House know, there is much to be said of ambition. It embraces all the positive elements of every other House of Hogwarts, in addition to having what they lack.

"Ambition requires bravery, a trait generally credited to Gryffindor, but not their reckless, blind courage. With tenacity comes failure, a 'look before you leap' analogy, if you will. And a Slytherin will never fail because of recklessness." Snape's lip curled condescendingly.

"Ambition requires cleverness, Ravenclaw's trait. Without knowledge, ambition is but a dream, and any fool can dream; without ambition, in which Ravenclaw is ultimately deficient, what use is knowledge?

"Ambition requires hard work, dedication, and loyalty, all Hufflepuff traits, because ambition is again a dream without a focus or that for which to fight. But it is equally true that without the focus of ambition, hard work, dedication, and loyalty are wasted from lack of purpose.

"While acknowledging the qualities of the other Houses, it is clear that Slytherin has more that makes them extraordinary.

"Cunning, which equals cleverness in everything until it surpasses the latter by being more devious; resourcefulness, knowledge of when rules must be broken, solitude, and, additionally, a bit of insanity. It spices otherwise dull world." He observed with amusement the shock on his pupils' faces. Then his eyes lighted on Marcie and Vic, and his glared pointedly at them. "Only a little bit, though," Snape snapped at them. The pair grinned innocently in return, and he was secretly pleased with their daring.

"In conclusion, stand tall, be strong, and in short, win Slytherin the House Cup. As you are well aware, I do not consider you guilty of any academic or behaviour transgressions unless you are caught in the act. If a teacher gathers up his or her courage to complain to me about suspected activities, I will duly note that complaint civilly. If you are caught, you deserve any punishment meted out to you. And be warned. Though I know I am considered soft in my own House, I will not tolerate any petty misbehavior that wastes precious time. In other words, do not get caught if you insist on breaking the rules and expect me to help you. In that event, you will have to rely on your own powers of persuasion to sway punishment unless you have a feasible, preferably honest, excuse." Here Snape shot a look at Draco. The Head was satisfied to see his favorite pupil looking aptly ashamed and slightly embarrassed.

"Do I make myself clear?" There was absolute silence; all the students, especially the first years, quailed beneath Snape's fierce stare and inimical words. Students accustomed to Snape's acrimony listened to their Head in silence, and did not attempt to answer what seemed to be a rhetorical question.

"I said, 'Do I make myself clear?' "

His Slytherins woke from their stupor and nodded their heads tremulously.

"Good," Snape spat. He was one of the chosen few who could make a pep talk sound like a reprimand.

One girl who stood next to the Catastrophous Couple was not moving, not a single hairbreadth. To a casual observer, she appeared to be Petrified. Snape's eyes narrowed as they focused on her. Then they widened slightly as he realized who she must be.

A raw rabbit, he thought as he raked his eyes quickly over her. She's pretty enough, at least as much as I can tell, but she's scared to death. I don't know what she's doing here- at Hogwarts, let alone Slytherin. I wonder how long it will take before she runs.

Snape sighed inaudibly in annoyance.

I guess I'll have to put up with her for the Headmaster's sake. Don't know why he's interested in her, but I'm not about to argue with him now. His health's not what it used to be. Any shock, no matter how small, will kill him. Frowning darkly, he swept toward her.

During Snape's speech, Corielle was seriously wondering if she had been placed in the right House at all. She had read in Hogwarts, A History that the Sorting Hat had never made a mistake, but everyone had to make one at least once, even a charmed Hat... As the Slytherin throng broke up, each student going to his or her dormitory, a few students remained.

Corielle and Draco stayed in their position, both disconcerted, but for completely different reasons. Draco was still remembering with a particularly cutting sting what had happened two years ago in this common room where they had stripped him of his wand. He had been reunited with it only a few weeks earlier, and now he stroked it absentmindedly, staring at the floor, but aware of the two other people in the room.

As Snape was pondering his doubts, Corielle was frozen to her spot, and she did not notice anyone else around her. Marcie and Vic had left, and she was imbued with a new sort of desperation, that of having a friend, then finding that friend no longer by her side. She was totally disconcerted and completely out of her depth.

Corielle was so immersed in her own thoughts, she failed to hear the rapidly approaching footsteps of her Head behind her. Indeed, she had not even realized he was still in the common room at all.

"Miss Griffin," Snape murmured from behind her.

Corielle jumped approximately a foot in the air, then whirled around to face the Potions Master. She struggled to find an excuse, and finally stumbled out, "I'm sorry, Professor, I wasn't paying attention." Then she blanched as Snape gave her a cold, pitiless sneer.

Snape raised one eyebrow disdainfully. "Take care that you pay your full attention plus a hefty interest from now on. Your first class is advanced Potions, I believe. I take it you've read your required reading list."

His last statement was not a question.

Corielle took painstaking care to avoid his penetrating eyes, but even so, it took all her grandmother's training to prevent herself from fidgeting. But somehow she managed to, and answered with some sort of semblance of calmness, "Yes, sir." She was glad she could give a truthful answer.

He ignored her answer - Corielle had a fleeting thought of medival torture by Professor Snape for answering a question incorrectly, but forced the vision away as she realized Snape was still speaking. She tried her best to pay the attention he had commanded.

"Private class with me begin at nine, but I want you there at seven thirty. If you are late, even by a minute, that will be five points from Slytherin. And let me tell you something, Miss Griffin, I do not like to take points off my own house, and what I do not like, you do not like, so you will be on time. We need to discuss how you will get through this year without any previous training. It will be necessary to test your skills practically as well as mentally. You've made it into Hogwarts, but you have the distinct disadvantage of coming into my House late in your years, which Salazar Slytherin would most likely never have tolerated. You will have to work ten times as hard as any other student to earn my favor. I will not cosset you, Miss Griffin. Are you listening to me? You are not looking at me. Look at me."

Corielle forced her eyes onto his face, and forced her eyes to meet his, and forced herself not to flinch from his cold gaze. "I understand, sir."

"Very well." Snape permitted her a twisted smile. "Pleasant dreams, Miss Griffin. Draco," he acknowledged in the general direction of the pale boy, who nodded his head in response. In a swirl of billowing robes, Snape stalked out of the common room and into his chambers.

Corielle remained motionless after Snape's departure. Her fingers pulled at the edges of her scarf, as if she wanted to withdraw into it completely. If I can't see you, you can't see me, she thought unreasonably. Then more sternly, Come on, Corielle, pull yourself together. You can do it, you know you can. You can do any task he sets before you. Don't be afraid.

She laughed mirthlessly. Don't be afraid? That's a joke. I'm terrified.

Then, unexpectedly, she felt a hand on her shoulder, and for the second time that evening, she jumped.

"Are you okay?" asked Draco, releasing her shoulder as Corielle adjusted her scarf.

"No," she answered honestly.

"Why?"

"Because."

"Why?"

Corielle turned sorrowful eyes on Draco. "I can't tell you," she said simply.

Then she edged around him, wanting to leave it at that, but Draco was not finished.

"What are you afraid of?" Draco's voice was low, hushed, and might have been mistaken for one of seduction. It was this last quality of his speech that made Corielle shiver apprehensively.

After a pause, she replied. Her voice was as soft as his had been, but with a slight edge to it.

"Everything."

Then, followed by Draco's persistent stare, she climbed the stairs to the sixth-year girls' dormitory.

This is going to be an awful year.

~888~

At precisely six thirty the following morning, Corielle sat up in her four-poster and rubbed her eyes. Before she even got out of bed, she retied a new scarf over her head, throwing her old one into the laundry chest at the foot of her bed. Then, as quickly as she could, she grabbed a new set of brightly-colored calico slacks and tunic and put them on.

"Where on earth did those come from?" murmured Marcie in awe from the next bed. Corielle started. She had thought everyone was asleep, but Marcie's head was peeking out from between her curtains. Corielle swallowed self-consciously, then explained.

"My aunt lives in India, and she knows I like calico, so she gets them custom-made for me." Looking at Marcie's expression, she felt the need to add some kind of defence for her unusual choice of clothes. "Don't worry, I'm putting my robes on over them."

"It's just that Salazar Slytherin never did like Muggles. Thought they were inferior, he did."

"Well," Corielle snapped, never her best in the mornings, "I've also read that he didn't like Squibs, but I'm here."

"You're not a Squib."

"I thought I was, and anyway, what is it to you what I wear?"

"Nothing and everything. Not to sound threatening, but I can make or break you here. But I won't tell. Besides, they suit you."

If Corielle had not been so polite, she would have been sarcastic, but she did not enjoy being nasty. Besides, why throw away a perfectly beneficial friendship? she reasoned with herself. Then she winced and mentally kicked herself. I've only been here a day, and I'm already acting selfishly.

She finished dressing behind her curtains, then stood up to go to the lavatory to redo her hair.

"How come you get to be so tall?" Marcie complained good-naturedly.

Corielle shrugged and slipped through the door. No one else was up at this hour, but she still felt the need to hurry before the general gossiping crowd of giggling girls that haunted the mirrors invaded her privacy.

Reaching the bathrooms, Corielle untied the knot at her chin and slid the silver scarf off her head. Deftly removing ninety or so hairpins, ripples of silky, fine, deeply dark red hair cascaded down her back, over her shoulders, and below her waist. She had inherited the strange hair color from her grandmother on her mother's side, and many strangers had stopped her in the streets when she was young to inquire about the supposed artificial hue.

As much as her hair bothered her -for more reasons than one- she couldn't bear to part with it. She took out her brush, and ran it gently through the general rats and tangles that had accumulated in the week since she last let her hair down. As hurried as she was, she had time only for a brief wash and a hastily braided knot that covered her entire head.

Just as she heard the approaching twitter of the crowd of girls that all seemed to invade the bathroom at the same time, she finished arranging the silver scarf on her head so that not a single crimson strand could be seen. She was quick and efficient- some of her relatives had even gone as far as forgetting the color of Corielle's hair, she had been wearing the scarves for so long. The bathrooms doors were thrown open as she slid in the last pin.

"Hey, new girl," cheeped a fifth-year inquisitively. "Why are you wearing that?"

"I'm not going to answer that," Corielle stated simply. The fifth-year gave Corielle the evil eye ward in response. Corielle paid it no mind; she knew that some people would be vulgar, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Corielle shot a look at the mirror, something she had managed to avoid at home for several years, and shuddered. Her dreams that night had been less than desirable. Without meaning to, her thoughts flew to the last scenes of her nightmare.

"Get through the house, Corielle, darling," her uncle whispered enticingly. "Get through the house. If you go the wrong way, I can't guarantee I'll be gentle." He pushed her into the dark maze where nineteen out of twenty doors would open to him. "If you get through the right way, maybe I'll let you lead..."

Corielle shook her head violently. No, she would not let herself think of It. She was safe now. But her face fell as she remembered why she needed to be awake so early.

~888888~

---The evil eye ward is where the hand is balled into a fist with only the index finger and pinky pointing outward. It was used during superstitious times against odd people who gave ordinary people odd looks. In this context, it is equivalent in vulgarity to the Finger.