Divined Intervention

"Wakey wakey, Little Muggle Maggie!"

Maggie opened her eyes with a scream. Hovering two inches from her nose was a face. She could see the top of her bed canopy through it. The broad, obnoxious grin widened into an inhuman grimace, and the ghost tugged on his bow tie, making his eyes bulge out. Maggie skittered sideways on the bed, thumping to the floor hard on her backside.

"Ooh! Saucy little tart, you are! Love the lacy bits." Maggie turned scarlet and pulled down on the oversized t-shirt she was wearing to no avail. Rage replaced modesty, and she shoved herself off the floor roughly with both hands.

"What the hell are you, and what are you doing in my room?" Her fists balled up on her hips and she stared into the hovering annoyance's eyes with palpable fury. For the first time, the spirit looked a little intimidated, and he backed away a few feet.

"Just making nice-nice with the introductions, Madam Muggle Maggie!" He bowed low, flipping himself over in the process and looking at her through his legs. "Peeves the Poltergeist, at your service." He leered. "Especially as long as you dress like that. You're a fine improvement over Silly Sibyll… she had knobby knees."

Maggie glared through his extended wolf-whistle, tapping her foot. Peeves snickered, then perked up at the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps. They stared at each other, unblinking (which was easier for Peeves, as he didn't really have to.) Maggie felt a dull throb in her right wrist as the adrenaline began to wear off, but didn't let it distract her.

"Madam Carter! Is everything all right?" A squeaky voice asked, muffled by the door. Maggie racked her brain, hunting for names, as Peeves flew out through the ceiling of the room, cackling.

"Begins with F…F…Filius… Flitwick!" she whispered at last, then yelled through the door. "I'm fine, Professor Flitwick. Just had an unexpected visitor." Quickly, she grabbed her borrowed robe off a hanger and pulled it on, holding it closed a bit awkwardly as she opened the door. Filius looked up at her and blushed, then averted his eyes.

"Ooh… terribly sorry, Madam Carter…didn't mean to interrupt anything…" He started to back away. Maggie blinked a couple times in confusion, then gasped.

"Oh dear lord… No, Professor… not THAT kind… some ghost named Peeves decided to wake me up." She covered her mouth with one hand, smothering a cackle. "Heavens… I'm new in town, I'm not that good… er, fast… ER, never mind. Foot, meet mouth."

Filius shook his head. "Peeves… horrid creature, really. We're all rather used to him around here. Odd, he doesn't usually bother the professors … perhaps it's just because you're new." He looked thoughtful. "My first year, he tipped me into a pudding at the Welcoming Feast and called me a cherry."

Maggie bit her cheek hard to stop herself from laughing. Filius didn't seem to notice.

"Breakfast will be starting soon… shall I wait for you?" Filius bowed. "We can discuss a Banishing Charm for your rooms. Most of the professors have them to keep the ghosts out."

"Sounds like a plan." Maggie looked down at herself, stopped, and shook her head. "Actually, I still need to make myself somewhat presentable. I'll see you down there!"

She leaned against the door after she closed it, then looked around the room carefully before attempting to get dressed.

"Nice tattoo," the mirror commented. Maggie jumped, then groaned loudly, too exasperated to care. Apparently, privacy was at a premium in this new residence. She tossed the robe over the mirror, who protested loudly and at great length, and began her morning routine.

***********

Breakfast was sparsely attended. Dumbledore and Severus were in a conference, Elvira was off doing broomstick maintenance, and Hagrid was, according to Delphine, "sleeping one off." But the chatter was lively and amusing, mostly consisting of theories about the newest in the line of Defense Against the Dark Arts professors ("After last year's vanished, and the one before her tried to kill young Mr. Potter… Vi's got a Galleon on a well-dressed hag, and I'm favoring a vampire…") and the latest Gilderoy Lockhart book (Hexes, Lies, and Memory Charms: Myself, Exposed… Tabitha had been dreadfully disappointed that it wasn't illustrated.)

Minerva nudged Maggie gently. "So, up for another journey today?"

Maggie stopped playing with her porridge for a moment. "As long as I don't have to cross another time zone. I don't know what day it is anymore." She smiled her best game smile. After the rude awakening that morning, her head ached with lack of sleep, but it didn't seem to be dampening her curiosity one bit. "Where to?"

"It's Tuesday, and we'll be going to Diagon Alley in London. It's the best place for finding all the equipment you will need to get started on your wizarding career, and the only place to get a proper wand." Minerva sipped her tea. "I have to pick up some books from Flourish and Botts. They were kind enough to find me a reviewer's copy of Animagi Through The Ages."

Maggie grinned, headache fading. "Cool. Full speed ahead, then."

***********

She had tried scrolls. She had survived the Genie Express.

By comparison, Floo powder sucked. Lots.

Maggie was very firm and vocal in this as she swooned out of the fireplace, tripping headlong over the low grating and landing in an ungainly heap at Minerva's feet. A few passing witches and wizards tittered slightly as she disentangled herself from her Hogwarts robe and straightened up with some help from Minerva, who clucked sympathetically and was kind enough not to laugh.

The streets teemed with wizards and witches of all shapes and sizes, ducking in and out of innumerable shops. Flourish & Botts. Herb shops. Secondhand robe shops. Windows full of cauldrons, broomsticks, and all sorts of creatures.

"I'm in heaven." Maggie grinned up at Minerva. "I've died, and I've gone to heaven. Wow." She gaped unashamedly, knowing full well that she screamed Tourist.

"It is indeed a fine place. We arranged to have your funds from the American Magical Association deposited here at Gringott's." She strode purposefully towards an enormous building, and Maggie almost lost her as she tore herself away from a window display of books with moving pictures on the cover. A quick and exhilarating cart-ride later, Maggie had a sizable pouchful of gold coins and a wicked gleam in her eye. Minerva mopped her brow with her handkerchief, looking a little less prim and a bit more green until they got outside and she had a few breaths of fresh air.

"That was better than most rollercoasters I've been on," Maggie raved, skipping a little in her excitement. Minerva looked at her in utter disbelief (as did several passers-by), shook her head, then guided her down the street to Madam Malkin's.

Madam Malkin's was a revelation for Maggie. Fabrics of every texture and color, and it seemed as though the robes were designed just for her body type. After a lifetime of trying to buy clothes designed for women with no bust and no hips, she was finally home. Minerva had steered her towards some very nice, basic, business-style robes, and she had indeed stocked herself with a few proper classroom outfits, but she couldn't resist a couple fun purchases. "I mean, I won't be working 24-7, now, will I?" she chuckled as Madam Malkin had helped her into a very pretty midnight-blue number with a deep V-neck. "Besides, what kind of Divination professor would I be if I looked too respectable." Minerva couldn't fault the logic, and they'd left with a respectably-sized parcel.

"You may wish to pace yourself, Maggie. We still have a long ways to go." They walked into Flourish and Botts, where Minerva was greeted enthusiastically by the shopkeeper. He bustled her into the back for a moment, and Maggie began to pore over titles. She'd always loved bookstores, and this one proved beyond her wildest ken. She looked over the subject heading signs over the shelves. Transfiguration. Magical Creatures. Muggle Studies. Arithmancy. Potions. Divination. She flitted around the shelves, picking up books and flipping through them, entranced by moving illustrations and deliciously arcane descriptions of potions and spells.

"Do you really think she'll cut it?" A familiar voice from the other side of a bookshelf made Maggie set down the copy of Fantastic Beasts she'd been scanning.

"Perhaps as a student. But as an instructor? Far too green. Even the first-year students will see that she's barely a witch." The second, hushed voice sounded familiar as well. Maggie leaned forward, eavesdropping in earnest now. "She is, at that. Muggle-born, not an inkling of our ways, not even properly brought-up from the looks and sounds of her. Lowest sort, Americans."

The first voice dropped a bit. "She's a diviner… with luck, they'll just think she's a fruitbat like Sibyll and not notice."

"Never met a diviner who wasn't at least a little mad. Here's hoping this one doesn't have delusions of competence."

Maggie's face fell as she realized her paranoia had just been justified. Unfortunately, it wasn't the only thing that fell. Her hand slipped on the shelf, knocking two books through to the other side.

Estelle Sinistra and Tabitha Vector looked through the gap, startled. Maggie looked back at them, smiling fixedly.

"Hi, ladies. Nice day for shopping, eh?" Maggie picked up a book beside the hole. "Hope I didn't interrupt. Just needed my copy of…" She looked at the cover and choked back an ironic chuckle. "Friend or Foe: Spells for Survival in Hostile Territory. Sounds like a page-turner." She nodded stiffly to them and wandered off to find Minerva.

"Maggie! I've taken the liberty of arranging all the books you'll need for the year." Minerva smiled at her, then frowned. "Anything the matter?"

Maggie forced a smile. "No, I'm fine." The sentiment, paper-thin though it may have been, faded when she saw the stack of books. "Oh….wow. It's as tall as I am. Taller." She looked at it in disbelief, panic washing away the sting to her pride. Standard Books of Spells 1-7, Fantastic Beasts, The Complete Transfiguration-Basic through Advanced, Magical Drafts and Potions… it towered, leaning ominously. She swallowed hard. Minerva patted her shoulder consolingly.

"Never fear. You have the full support of the Hogwarts faculty. We're all at your disposal." Minerva looked back to the shopkeeper. "Perhaps we'd better arrange shipping as well… I don't think we'll be able to carry those."

Maggie looked back over her shoulder. Estelle and Tabitha had already slunk out the door, looking guilty.

"Last stop. Ollivander's Wands… he's an amazing man, Mr. Ollivander. Fine craftsman, and an amazing memory." She chuckled. "He still remembers my first wand." The door closed silently behind them.

"Rosewood, single unicorn hair, seven inches long," a voice sighed from behind a shelf. Maggie turned around as Mr. Ollivander stepped out, smiling fondly. "Lovely spring to it. Good afternoon, Professor McGonagall. Good afternoon, Miss Carter."

Maggie blinked, then looked at Minerva. "Does everyone know who I am?"

Ollivander just chuckled. "Some people just stand out from the rest. Now, shall we?"

Maggie watched as he pulled down a long, slim box and took out a slender wooden rod. Up close, they looked much less like lengths of dowel and more like miniature works of art. Discreetly, she slipped off her wrist brace and tucked it into a pocket. She accepted the wand with curious eyes. The wood was polished, and it widened slightly into a very graceful hand-grip. She looked to Ollivander mutely. He waved his hands in a graceful sweep. Maggie took the hint.

Pins and needles shot up her arm as she waved the wand. She restrained the wince as Ollivander took it, shaking his head. "Hmm… maybe this one."

She waved wand after wand, the pain getting a little worse each time, but she kept her face neutral. Maybe it's normal, she silently hoped. Ollivander, unfortunately, didn't seem to be fooled. His eyes were fixed on her right hand, studying the twitching of her tortured muscles.

"You're a diviner." She nodded. "I wonder… here, try this… it's a little unusual, but perhaps…" He went into the back for a long moment, then came back with another wand. The handle bent gracefully into an ergonomic curve that fit her palm perfectly. She couldn't help but smile as she lifted it and waved.

The room glowed gold just before she collapsed.

**************

"Harry!" Hermione closed the gap between them in half a moment, nearly dropping her parcel of books as she hugged him. He grinned back eagerly. "How's your summer been?"

Harry shrugged, running a hand through his mop of permanently-mussed black hair. "It's with the Dursleys. About as well as can be expected." He smiled again, brightly. "So, sixth year is upon us. Looking forward to the O.W.L.s already, I'd imagine."

Hermione looked down her nose at him haughtily. "I don't suppose you've started studying yet, have you?"

"Just because some of us see more to life than a giant stack of books…" Ron sidled up to them, thumping Harry on the back amiably. "I think you have competition, Hermione. You should see the stack of books I just saw some poor chap haul over to the post office. Looked like the entire inventory of Flourish and Botts." Hermione craned her neck to look down the street, curious. "Oh sod it… now she's going to have to pick up more books. I'm already carrying half of hers!" he whispered, nudging Harry. They both laughed as Hermione whirled, a dour look in her eyes.

"Some of us like to stay informed even when it is warm out, Mr. Weasley." She sniffed, then looked back down the street. "I wonder what that is all about?"

The boys followed her gaze. A cluster of witches and wizards were gathered outside Ollivander's, chattering excitedly. They moved as a unit to investigate.

"…poor thing just fainted dead away." An old wizard gestured emphatically with his wand, then made a falling gesture. "Looked like someone hexed her as she was trying out the wand, but tweren't anyone there who would have."

"Dark Magic afoot… can strike anywhere, you know. Even wand shopping isn't safe." A thirty-something witch looked around herself, thin hands twitching nervously as she pulled her red cloak around her protectively.

Almost without realizing it, they had formed a triangle, each facing outward, back to back to back.

The trio looked at each other. Reflexively, Harry looked around at the shadows near the shop. Ron placed a hand on his shoulder, and he relaxed. The silence between them was deafening. Over the past five years of friendship, the three had more reason than anyone to be paranoid at the mention of Dark Magic; at sixteen, each of them had experienced more Dark Magic and Death Eaters than many Aurors faced in an entire career….especially in the past year.

Hermione gave a shuddery sigh, then laughed nervously. "Some witch faints in a wand shop and we brace for battle. What kind of world do we live in?" There was a note of sorrow in her voice.

Harry patted her shoulder. Ron gripped her hand gently, then released it as he turned to face center. "So. We have school supplies to purchase and ice cream to devour. Shall we?" He bowed, gesturing back towards the main thoroughfare. Hermione hefted her book parcel and began to walk away with him. Harry watched the throng of onlookers a moment longer, then shook his head and walked after his friends, wondering if he'd ever know what it was to feel safe.

**********

"Thank heavens you were here, Poppy. And you, Rubeus." The voices were a little garbled over her.

"I picked a good day to order the Pepperup Potion, it seems." A stout woman was standing over her, back to her. "Poor dear. The damage must be quite extensive if she fainted just from selecting the wand."

"Mr. Ollivander was in a righ' state. He insisted that she take it as a gift. 'A very potent match,' he said. He also suggested a Magic Conductiv'ty…something or other." A deep rumble from her left. Mr. Hagrid. She finally looked around herself. White curtains surrounded her bed. A hospital? Oh crap, what happened?

"Magical Conductivity Survey. As soon as she's up and around, I will attempt it. Depending on how severe the damage is…" The woman shook her head. "It won't affect magic not performed with wands as much, but anything more than potions or divination may just not happen for her."

Maggie's jaw tensed stubbornly. "Oh, like hell," she murmured. The woman jumped slightly and turned around. Maggie blushed and stammered an apology. "Sorry… didn't mean to scare you… I just don't want to think that my magic career is over before it's started."

Minerva strode over to the side of the bed and patted her on the arm. "Of course not. None of us do." Her smile seemed a little less than confident in Maggie's eyes. "We're just concerned for your health. You fainted in the wand shop, dear. Hagrid and Madame Pomfrey were across the street, and they helped me to get you back to Hogwarts. We're in the infirmary now."

"Is there room for one more?" Dumbledore peeked around Hagrid, who stepped out of the way quickly, bowing slightly. "How is the patient?"

"Embarrassed." Maggie sat up, pushing herself to the edge of the bed with both hands. Her right arm was numb from the elbow down, a fact she studiously ignored. "I'm ok, everyone. I don't know what happened. Too much excitement, maybe."

Madam Pomfrey gave her a stern look, then produced her wand and tapped Maggie's right ring finger. The reaction was swift, loud, and violent. Her arm spasmed and jerked back, almost knocking her over. She screamed in pain and outrage, and the world went dim and red.

"As I thought. Damage to the conduit. There's potions and therapeutic spells, but extensive use will be an issue." Madam Pomfrey bustled away as Maggie rubbed her right arm, too shocked to say anything. The tingles had come back and brought friends, and were darting up and down the length of her arm, fingertips to shoulder, like an army of daggers.

"I didn' know we were using the Cruciatus Curse in the infirmary these days," Hagrid muttered, glaring at Pomfrey's departing back, then turned to Maggie. "All right, Maggie? Yeh don' listen to her, now. You'll make a fine witch. I can tell. You got it in yer eyes." He patted her left shoulder gingerly, and as gently as he could manage. Her teeth clicked together.

All that was in her eyes was a lot of tears. Had to get your hopes up. New opportunities. New adventures. And your damned body tosses 'em out the window. Always been the way. Couldn't pass the physical to be a cop. Couldn't take your final exams to finish the last quarter at school because of the stupid hand flaring up during the essays. Couldn't even get a decent job. She looked away, and tried to summon a smile for Hagrid with no luck.

Dumbledore's voice broke her reverie. "You strike me as a woman of great courage and determination, Margaret. You have come this far, leaving everything familiar behind to learn about what you truly are. I do not see you letting anything like this hamper your newfound talents." His gaze was thoughtful, but serious. She looked back at him.

God, he really does remind me of Dad. An old Dad, but still… The smile that flitted to her lips was genuine.

"Yeah, I'm about that stubborn."

Madame Pomfrey reappeared bearing a steaming beaker of something that smelled a lot like her mace canister. Maggie's eyes went wide.

"Drink this. It should reduce the inflammation." Maggie stared at the stuff. It was bubbling. She looked to Minerva and Dumbledore, who nodded.

"Here's to good friends…" she said with a half-smile and chugged it. The pain vanished, but that could have been because her insides were boiling and she was too distracted to notice. When she straightened up, the feeling had returned to her hand. She flexed it and smiled.

Madam Pomfrey looked her over. "I have a feeling I'll be seeing you often, then. You keep using that hand, and you'd better get used to the taste of that potion. I'll do some research, see if I can't find a more permanent remedy for the injury, but honestly…" She raised her hands in a flustered gesture. "You're a medical miracle, Miss Carter. No witch or wizard has survived this long without either blowing themselves up or winding up too mad to do magic at all. I've heard of cases of conduit damage before, but nothing quite this severe. Perhaps I can modify one of the treatments…" She nodded distractedly. "It will be educational. In the meantime, I will keep the potion well-stocked."

Maggie, a little floored by her honesty, had gone a bit pale at her assessment. "Thanks… I appreciate the help," she said faintly, then pushed herself off the bed. "Thanks, everyone. Sorry to be so much trouble."

"No trouble 'tall," Hagrid said, clapping her on the shoulder and almost knocking her back onto the bed. "Oh! Almost fergot. Here… Mr. Ollivander gave me this."

He handed her a slim box. Apple, 10 inches, hair from a centaur's tail was written in loopy script on the top. Maggie smiled softly and opened the box, pulling out the wand to look at it.

Her smile was determined as she looked at the assembled faculty. "I will learn how to use this." She brandished it, and gold sparks shot out the end. A few tingles shot up her arm, but they were easy to ignore.

Dumbledore nodded, a thoughtful smile crossing his face. "Yes, Margaret. I believe you will."

*************

There was comfort in routine. Maggie found that as long as she was staying busy, she didn't have time to think about how confusing her new world was, or how much she missed her old one. And there was more than enough to keep her busy. Her classroom provided a welcome physical release to her frustrations, as she scrubbed the woodwork and aired out cushions on the wall below the North Tower, much to Filch's bemusement. He seemed to appreciate the effort, though, and set to reupholstering a few of the poufs that had sat particularly close to the fire for a few too many years.

Then, there were her studies. Five years away from college had made her forget how miserable studying could really be, and the stack of books stood on her footlocker as a daily reminder of how much studying she had to look forward to. Thankfully, she was a brisk reader, and was managing to muddle through the history and theory of magic faster than she had hoped, racking up a few chapters every night before bed. The spells themselves, however, proved an arduous memorization puzzle she was sure she could never surmount.

Motivation, however, was easy to come by. While her stubborn pride left her arm in constant agony as she attempted to practice unlocking her footlocker and transforming stray dust bunnies into bunny slippers, it also gave her reason to keep torturing herself. She had daily invasions from Peeves, who seemed to find her inability to wield a wand intensely amusing and even song-worthy. His endless ditties about "Little Muggle Maggie and her Wonky Wand" were always worth another two attempts at wand-wielding, no matter the discomfort. After a few days, though, she found him fairly easy to tune out, and began composing counter-ditties to "Pissant Peeves the Asinine Apparition."

The best motivation was mealtimes in the Great Hall. For the duration of the week after her trip to Diagon Alley, conversations died quickly when she walked into the room, and almost everyone averted their eyes before greeting her. It took a lot of effort to keep going to meals at all, but she gritted her teeth and smiled her way through it. The only people who did not change at all towards her were Dumbledore, and Severus; even Minerva tended to get a little quiet on her approach.

Dumbledore was as cordial as ever, a warm spot in an otherwise cold environment. Severus, on the other hand, regarded her as coldly as ever, if not more so. He watched her fixedly every time she went to lift her fork with her right hand, then opt for her left at the last moment, eating what little she took awkwardly and as quickly as she could without being rude. It only added to the constant, pervasive nausea, making her feel a lot like the mouse she'd once had to feed to Ray's snake when he was out of town. She knew he could see her weakness, and a distant part of her mind wondered when and how he'd strike. At the same time, it was almost flattering to have someone pay that much intent attention to her every move… a thought that she sentenced herself to extra hours of scrubbing the floors for more than once.

What the hell is his beef with me, anyways? She sloshed the bucket with her ankle as she turned to scrub the bottom molding of the wall. Yeah, I maced him. Get the hell over it. Yeah, I suck as a witch. I just started. Get the hell over it. Her wrist was howling at her as she tore the rag over the woodwork. Yeah, I'm a gimp. GET THE HELL OVER IT! She chucked it into the bucket with a splash and walked over to a table, picking up her textbook du jour.

Magical Droughts and Potions. She skimmed over the ingredients for the first basic potion and sighed, hauling her cauldron out from under another table. It would be really nice if she had someone to ask about it, or a lesson plan… I am so not asking Severus Snape for lessons. I'd sooner…study Arithmancy. Her new tools were still bright and scratch-free as she pulled them out, looking over the packets of ingredients and shuddering. The herbs didn't faze her. She'd used them for years. The other things…crushed beetles, dragon's blood…REAL dragon's blood, moth wings… She measured them with a sense of nausea and guilt. Living with Tina had instilled a little bit of unease about creatures dying for her personal use. It hadn't stopped her from enjoying a good hamburger, but for some reason, cutting up slugs for a boil-curing potion didn't sit well.

She was about to add the porcupine quills when a noise behind her distracted her. She fumbled the packet, startled, and the whole thing fell into the cauldron with a splash.

"SONOFA…." Boils began to spring up along her arm. She spun around to face the intruder, sputtering. Argus Filch stood there, looking horrified, holding a freshly-upholstered pouf.

"Ach, girl! Why aren't you doing that in the Potions Lab?" He took a look at the fire in her eyes and opted to withhold further questions. "Let's get you to Madam Pomfrey."

Grudgingly, she allowed him to help her into the dumbwaiter. "First floor," she grumbled, and it began its now-routine descent with a creak. Somehow, Argus met her at the exit and walked with her to the hospital wing. He tried to cheer her as best he could by regaling her with his own Peeves woes.

"Damned poltergeist snatched my favorite set of shackles out of my desk yesterday… have him banished yet… don't know how he's stayed here so many years…"

"Favorite what?" Maggie looked at him, intrigued. Argus reddened a little.

"They're just something I kept around, from the good old days when they'd let me hang up the little buggers who broke school rules all the time…none of this namby-pamby detention nonsense…Taught the little vandals some discipline, it did…"

Maggie decided it was safest to smile and nod until they got to the infirmary.

"If it's any consolation, I did the same me first year, with that potion," he confided as she opened the door, then wandered off. Maggie did not feel consoled.

Madam Pomfrey took one look at her and threw a pinch of powder into the fire. "Professor Snape!" she called.

Maggie cursed audibly. "Do we really have to bother him?" she asked plaintively, ignoring the nurse's annoyed look.

"Indeed." Severus's voice rose like a chill breeze from the fire. Maggie almost put her hands over her face in humiliation, but stopped before the boils made contact. His disembodied head looked her over once, and a smirk crossed his face. "I'll be right there, Madam Pomfrey."

Maggie looked at the ceiling as the nurse abraded the boils to remove some of the potion bits. The pain was a welcome distraction from the gut-wrenching embarrassment. "I should have stayed in Rochester." Madam Pomfrey looked at her curiously.

"Why, dear?"

Maggie laughed bitterly. "Let's see. I'm a gimp as a witch, I can't even do a basic-level potion, I can't use my wand without practically crippling myself, the staff thinks I'm a flake, and I tend to agree with them." She shook her head. "I should be back home cutting fabric, forget this whole thing. If I'm going to go mad or blow myself up, I might as well. Save you a lot of medicine and save the rest of the staff a lot of amusement at my expense." She kicked her heels idly at the edge of the bed, listening to the dull thump without satisfaction.

Madam Pomfrey's reply was cut off by a voice from the door. "Giving up so easily, Miss Carter?" Maggie growled softly.

"Hello, Professor Snape. Sorry to bother you." Maggie turned her head to face him. His tall, thin form loomed in the doorway, eyes fixed on her boil-covered arms. He smirked a little.

"Attempting to concoct a potion for the resident gossips, Miss Carter? There are more subtle ones to try, with less risk of personal injury." He stalked into the room, towering over her.

She craned her head back to look him in the eye, realizing she had never really noticed how much taller he was than she. Her half-smile fixed grimly on her face in an attempt to not look intimidated. "Argus's timing was poor. Too many porcupine quills spoil the soup, apparently." She winced as he laughed dryly, and knew in the pit of her stomach that he recognized the spell.

"Untrained wizards should never attempt to make potions without appropriate supervision. I always tell my first-year pupils that on the first day… when we concoct that potion." He uncorked a bottle and handed it to Madam Pomfrey. "Eleven year olds are much more reasonable about such things."

Maggie seethed. The potion burned on her arm, fuel for the fire in her eyes.

Severus nodded at Madam Pomfrey. "You may wish to keep that on hand. More students may have need of that, come start of school." His gaze returned to Maggie. "If you wish some guidance, you will find me in the Potions Lab." He bowed, a twisted sort of grin crossing his face. Maggie nodded curtly.

"There's a valuable piece of advice that has been handed down to every mediwizard I know, Margaret." Madame Pomfrey said softly, laying a hand on Maggie's shoulder.

Maggie's eyes stayed fixed on the doorway, watching the swirl of black robes as Severus exited. "Do no harm?" she asked tensely, wondering if she'd sensed her intense desire to kick him in the groin.

Madam Pomfrey chuckled. "Don't let the bastards get you down."