White Heather for Protection

The Danger Begins

"Well said, Miss Potter!"

All four students spun around. There stood Professor McGonagall, flanked by Professor Snape and Professor Quirrell, who had sunk to the ground, whimpering at the sight of the bound and bloodied troll.

"It seems Miss Potter here has berated all three of you sufficiently. Of course, she should heed her own advice." The elderly witch stared meaningfully at Heather, who returned the stare steadily. Professor McGonagall seemed satisfied by what she saw, because she nodded approvingly and continued.

"5 points each from Gryffindor for disobeying instructions. 10 points to Mr Potter and Mr Weasley for protecting a housemate." The Transfiguration Professor then looked at her fellow Head of House.

Professor Snape looked at the downed troll and smoothly said, "5 points from Slytherin for reckless self-endangerment. 5 points for the courage to protect others in the face of danger. 10 points for adequate use of spells beyond the expected skill level."

The Deputy Headmistress nodded in agreement. "Confringo and Expulso, you said? Incarcerous as well, it seems. NEWT level spells, Miss Potter. Very well done," she said, looking impressed.

Heather blushed lightly in embarrassment. Luckily, she hadn't fallen back on wandless magic in her panic. That would have been difficult to explain. To divert attention from her, she latched onto Rian and fussed over him.

In her preoccupation, she missed the fact that her Head of House was favouring his left leg.

~~~

Heather speed-walked from the Great Hall to the dungeons. She had been so caught up in thoughts of that defensive spell for use against dark creatures she had been working on that she had almost forgotten about her appointment. She knocked briskly on the door and entered the office.

"Professor Snape?"

The dour man looked up. "Ahh, our resident celebrity arrives. Rumour has it that you have added Cornish pixies to your repertoire of conquered creatures."

Holding back a snicker, she said tonelessly, "Professor Quirrell seemed a tad flustered." He had been hiding under his desk while the gnomes wreaked havoc in the classroom. "I simply lent some assistance." She'd used a herding spell and placed them back in their cage. Then she'd asked someone to fetch Madam Pomfrey to tend to the incapacitated Professor.

Professor Snape raised a condescending brow at the mention of his colleague. "Indeed? The tales of your heroism and magical prowess have been greatly exaggerated then." He stood and walked to the lab.

"I share that class with Gryffindors," she said by way of explanation. Meanwhile, she observed the Professor's usually elegant gait. Something had been off with his posture for a week now. It wasn't very noticeable, but it was there.

"Are you injured, sir? You're limping slightly." Had he been wounded during the troll incident?

The man straightened and gave her a nasty look. "I am in perfect health. Your concern is unwarranted and unappreciated." He then strode to the ingredients cupboard with his usual grace, obviously straining himself to do so.

"And here I thought your standards of perfection were much higher than that," Heather muttered to herself. The Professor must have had sharp hearing, because he narrowed his eyes in irritation. "Have you seen Madam Pomfrey, Professor?" His silence told her all she needed to know. She looked heavenward. Men.

Pointing at the lab bench, she said firmly, "Sit down and let me have a look at it then, sir."

For a moment, his carefully bland expression gave way to shock. "Excuse me?"