Lindsay sat on a large overstuffed sofa in the common room, flanked by Fred and George. She had just been introduced to Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Neville Longbottom. Neville was talking about his grandmother when Lindsay felt something poke her head. She turned to see a paper airplane floating in the air next to her.
"You'd better read that," said Hermione, but Lindsay was beaten to it by George.
"I bet it's from Snape," said Ron. "Likely a detention for being foreign."
"You're half right, Ron," said George. "It is from Snape. Apparently Lindsay's first potions class is in fifteen minutes."
"It's just like him to give you your first lesson on a Saturday, only three hours after you've arrived," said Harry spitefully.
"I met him in the headmaster's office this morning," said Lindsay. "He seems a bit shy." The twins burst into laughter. "What's so funny?"
"'Seems a bit shy', she says," repeated Fred.
"'What's so funny', she says" repeated George.
"Snape," began Fred, "is a petty, nasty, wanker..."
"...with a particular hatred for Gryffindors," finished George. "He's commonly known as the Greasy Git and is the most hated teacher at Hogwarts."
"I had a teacher like that in middle school--huge woman. She had a metal yardstick that she'd hit the kids with. She was like a ninja with a thing," said Lindsay.
"Ninja?" said Ron.
"Later," replied Harry.
"I bet you were terrified of her," said Neville, who'd gone pale and was beginning to look ill.
"No, we got along just fine. I stayed out of her way, and she didn't skull me with her yardstick." Lindsay rose to change her clothes for what she anticipated to be a messy class. She slung a well-worn, olive-green, canvas messenger bag over her shoulder and left for the potions lab. She was escorted by the twins, who sang dirges all the way there. She was about to knock on the door when she heard a smooth male voice on the other side of it say, "Enter." Fred and George both gave her a thumbs-up as they silently backed away.
"Good to see you again, Professor," said Lindsay cheerily as she opened the door. Snape was skulking around a work table. "Your timing is impeccable." Lindsay was wearing the same warm smile she'd shown him earlier. Snape had steeled himself for her visit and was determined not to make such a colossal ass of himself twice in the same day. An array of herbs, some fresh, some dried, and some bottled, were arranged on a table behind him, along with a cauldron and other potions-making supplies.
"Sit," said Snape. She obeyed and looked up at him, calmly meeting his gaze. He couldn't stop a small flush of color from appearing in his cheeks. He held up the stalk of a dried plant with small pink flowers. "What is this?"
"Dittany," answered Lindsay.
"And this?" Snape held up another stalk, this time the flowers were large and white.
"White Dittany."
"Give me another name for it."
"False Dittany."
"And this one?" He held a stalk that had light purple flowers.
"Um...also False Dittany."
He held both stalks of False Dittany in front of her, very close to her face. So close that she leaned back slightly. "How do you know?"
"Their leaves are identical, and they both smell lemony."
He turned and placed all of the stalks on the table behind him, then turned back to her. "What is a bezoar?"
"It's a concretion most commonly found in the gastrointestinal organs of ruminant animals." The rapid-fire questioning continued for a full thirty minutes and covered a great portion of the textbook she'd been required to study. He then told her to take out her textbook and prepare the first potion using the ingredients on the table. All of the labels had been removed from the bottled herbs, and Lindsay had to smell them to identify them. She picked up a small brown bottle and un-stoppered it. She sniffed it, but couldn't identify it. "I don't know what this is." Snape arched an eyebrow and said nothing. "Okay, I'll just set it aside then."
She successfully chose the correct ingredients and began brewing the potion. Her textbook sat next to her and was turned to the correct page, but she never looked at it. Snape was puzzled, but remained silent. He slowly walked around her, studying her from every angle. She smelled faintly of gardenia. Her hair, which was tied back, was thick, wavy, and lustrous. It was an uncommon and fetching shade of dark red. His incessant pacing around her didn't seem to bother her in the slightest. She appeared relaxed and confident. Her eyes were downcast as she focused on her work. He thought it odd that her face showed no signs of consternation. Most new students look nervous and confused, and frequently check and re-check their textbooks.
He inspected her potion when it was done and said, "This is acceptable. Brew the second one." The contents of the cauldron disappeared with a silent flick of his wand, and Lindsay immediately set about brewing the next potion. Again, she brewed it correctly without looking at her textbook. He then had her brew a third with the same results. "This lesson is over. You may go."
###
Seven worried faces were gathered in front of the common room's fireplace, all waiting for Lindsay's return. "Is everything alright?" asked Lindsay.
"You were gone for hours," blurted Hermione.
"We thought maybe he poisoned you," said Neville.
Lindsay began to laugh, but stopped abruptly when Neville's expression didn't change. "Teachers don't poison their students, Neville."
"You don't know Snape," said Harry matter-of-factly. His eyes looked heavy and half-closed as he stared into the flickering flames, his arms folded across his chest. He appeared to have only a mild interest in the conversation.
Lindsay wasn't sure how to take their reactions, so she chose to change the subject. "There was a creepy, blobbish, man-thing floating around the hallway singing a very rude song. It disappeared through a wall. Anybody know what it is?"
"That would be Peeves," said Hermione. "He's a poltergeist, best to stay away from him if you can."
Lindsay looked relieved. "Oh, good, I thought I was hallucinating."
"There's a lot you have to get used to," said Harry through a yawn.
"Well...tell us what happened," urged Ginny.
"That was the most grueling class I've ever had. I'm exhausted. First he asked me a bunch of questions, and then I had to brew three potions--"
"Three?" shouted Hermione.
"Git," mumbled the twins.
"There weren't any labels on the bottled herbs. I had to identify them by smell. I felt like an idiot."
"I hope he doesn't do that to me," said Neville, swallowing hard with a noticeable tremor developing in his hands. "What if he makes me drink something...?"
"Neville," said Ginny as she placed a reassuring hand on Neville's shoulder. "Calm down. Think happy thoughts."
"I hope you have an awfully good sense of smell," said Harry.
"The photographic memory really helps," answered Lindsay.
"What does that have to do with smelling things?" asked Ron.
"Herbal scents are described in detail in the potions textbook, Ronald," said Hermione. "If you opened it once in a while, you'd know that."
"I think I did badly. He said the potions were acceptable, but that's it. He said nothing else the whole time I was there, except to tell me to leave."
"Snape only talks when you've made mistakes, so you must've done well," said Hermione. "I've never heard him tell anyone that a potion was acceptable. That probably means you did very, very well."
"Or very, very bad," said Ron.
"Ignore him," said Hermione.