"I can't believe you get along with Filch," said Harry. He was sitting at a picnic table that Hagrid had set up outside of his hut. Ron sat next to him, Lindsay sat across from him, and Hermione was seated next to Lindsay. Everyone had their cups of tea. Huge rock cakes and some dainty tea biscuits were set out on an impressively large tray. They were waiting for Hagrid to emerge from his hut and join them.
"He's not so bad once you get to know him."
"Who would want to?" snorted Ron.
"I just like to get along with everyone," said Lindsay. "My mom called me a people-pleaser. Anyway, Filch is a sweetheart compared to Mr. Roberts. Did I mention him before?"
"No, you haven't," said Hermione, without lifting her head from an impressively thick Arithmancy textbook.
"He was the elderly uncle of one of my medical school classmates. He was quite ill. He had terminal cancer and needed looking after. Becca was too busy to look after him herself, so she asked me to help. We took turns checking in on him. He was a nasty piece of work. He hit people with his cane, threw things, and I'm told he even bit a few people. It took some effort, but we eventually became good friends. It's like what Hagrid says about animals, 'you have to find what calms them'. People are the same; you have to find their triggers. Mr. Roberts' trigger was literature. He had a vast knowledge of literary works. Personally, I never had much of an interest in literature, beyond what I had to read for school assignments. I was always more of hard cold facts sort of person."
"You can relate to that, can't you, Hermione?" said Harry with a wicked grin.
Lindsay blew on her hot tea a few times before continuing. "It was my night to look in on him. He was living in his library by this point. He couldn't make it up the stairs anymore..."
"That's so sad," said Hermione. Harry was politely listening. Ron looked bored.
"...I gave him his dinner, which he threw at me. I moved and it hit the pockets doors behind me and splattered onto some of his books. He became very upset and asked--well, pleaded really--that I clean them. I did, and then I gave them to him for inspection. We started talking about them, and that opened the door. I spent a lot of time with him after that. He taught me so much. I never thought that talking about books would teach me so much about people."
"I'm not sure I follow," said Hermione.
"There's a first."
"Shut up, Ron," snapped Hermione.
"When you read a book everything seems so obvious. The ink is black, the pages are white, and the words are all there in front of you. Mr. Roberts showed me that the real meaning is rarely the obvious one. There are secret meanings between the lines. Many times the writer isn't even aware of them. They're parts of the writer's subconscious that manage to escape onto the page for others to find. So books...well not so much books in general, but creative works are very much like people. The real person isn't usually the one we see, but someone deeper, someone hidden."
"You've totally lost me," said Ron.
"Why am I not surprised?" said Hermione.
"Then again, there are those people who don't hide much of anything--right, Ron?" said Lindsay with a grin, her cup of tea hovering about her lips. She took a sip and began again. "He was a living skeleton toward the end. He became so weak that he needed help with the smallest things. I remember the first time I helped him wash. He bore the indignity stoically, but I cried like hell--after I went home, of course. He was in tremendous pain, but he never complained, not once. I begged him to let me stay with him. I kept telling him how worried I was, but he just said in that very haughty way of his, 'Don't be silly, I'm going to live forever.' I checked on him one morning, on my way to class, and he was gone. He looked so peaceful; all the pain in his face was gone. I really miss him...I'm not talking too much, am I?"
"Just a bit," said Ron. Hermione kicked him under the table.
"I have to respect blunt honesty," said Lindsay.
"Look, there's Snape with his wand out," said Ron. "I wonder what he's up to." They all turned to see Snape with his wand drawn, sprinting toward the tree line and disappearing.
"Ah, the double entendres that are running through my mind right now."
"See that they stay there, Miss Gray," came the stern voice of Minerva McGonagall from behind Lindsay. She was quickly striding toward Hagrid's hut.
"Yes, ma'am," said Lindsay.
"Double what?"
"Double meanings, Ronald," said Hermione.
"Huh?"
"I'll explain it to him later, Hermione," said Harry.
"That guy moves like greased lightning," said Lindsay as she set down her huge tea cup.
"He isn't called the Greasy Git for nothing," said Ron.
"Hagrid!" hollered McGonagall.
Hagrid popped his head out of the window of his hut. "What can I do fer yeh, Professor?"
"One of your beasties has gotten loose!" Everyone at the table rose and charged toward the spot where Snape had just been seen, and nearly ran over Professor Flitwick in the process. They ignored McGonagall's instructions to stay put. They could hear branches breaking and the angry shrieking and snarling of an animal. They followed the sound and found an injured hippogriff. Snape was trying to corral it when it reared up and snapped off a tree branch with its wing. The branch dropped onto the top of Snape's head, and he collapsed to the ground unconscious. Lindsay was running so fast that she slid to a stop and fell on the ground next to Snape. She spied his abandoned wand and stuffed it into the side pocket of her boot. The injured hippogriff was just about to take a swipe at Lindsay's head when Hagrid appeared and forced it back. Everyone else had arrived by this time and set about confining the animal. "Professor Flitwick!" shouted Lindsay. "He has a head injury. He needs his head and neck braced before we can move him."
"I can do that," answered Flitwick as he focused himself. Instantly, a white brace appeared around Snape's head, neck, and chin. Lindsay's hand was on his arm. A faint blue light encircled Snape's body as he was raised off the ground.
"I can run faster than you, sir," said Lindsay.
"Go, girl, go!" shouted Flitwick.
Lindsay sprinted back to the castle with Snape's unconscious form at her side. The voices of six people shouting instructions to each other died away quickly as she dashed across the grounds. She entered the castle shouting "Make way! Make way!" not that it was necessary. Apparently Snape could clear a room even in an unconscious state. She quickly made it to the hospital wing shouting for Madame Pomfrey. Lindsay floated Snape's body over an empty bed and lowered him onto it as Pomfrey materialized at her side. "He has a head injury. We need to check for brain trauma, cranial fractures, vertebral compression fractures, and..."
"Out!" shouted Pomfrey in indignation.
"I'm a trained physician!" Lindsay shouted back.
"Out, I say!" screamed Pomfrey and shoved Lindsay out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
Lindsay paced angrily in the hall outside the medical ward for a few seconds before remembering the injured Hippogriff. She moved as quickly through the castle as she could, but it was difficult without Snape's presence to get everyone out of the way. She finally made her way to the outside grounds and bolted to join everyone she'd left only moments ago. The Hippogriff was contained now. Stray branches, logs, and stones of every size were held together magically to form temporary walls. The poor animal was badly injured and looked wild-eyed. Its left wing was broken and it had shards of glass sticking out of its side and chest. It was emaciated; all of its ribs were clearly visible. Lindsay wasn't sure if it was dirty or not, but its coloring appeared to be charcoal grey.
"He was flying erratically and hit one of the greenhouses. Pomona's making repairs right now," said Flitwick to Hagrid.
"He's in right sad shape, poor thing," said Hagrid. "Anyone know where he come from?"
"We thought he was one of yours," said McGonagall.
"Not mine," answered Hagrid, shaking his head. The more he looked at the poor animal, the angrier he became. "Never seen 'im before. None o' Hogwarts' herd 'as that dark color. It's very rare that."
"Is there anything we can do to help, Hagrid?" asked McGonagall.
"No, too many people will jus' frighten 'im. I'll need to win 'is trus' 'fore I can help 'im."
Hagrid shooed everyone away. Hermione went to collect her book from Hagrid's picnic table while Ron and Harry strode back to the castle behind Flitwick and McGonagall. "We should go and see if Pomona needs any help, Filius. Then we'll check in on Severus."
"They're both going to be in fine humor, Minerva."
Lindsay was the only one to linger. "Should I fetch your med bag, Hagrid?"
"I'd appreciate that," answered Hagrid. "But leave it on the ground 'ere and try not teh let 'im see yeh."
Linsay nodded and sprinted back to Hagrid's hut. His medical bag was sitting on the floor next to the table. Neither Fang nor Buckbeak roused when she entered to retrieve it. Hagrid's bag was a large brown leather satchel full of basic veterinary supplies, ointments, potions, and various types of anti-venom. Some of them he'd made himself and the more complicated ones had been made by Snape.
Lindsay strained to lift the bag and struggled with it all the back to Hagrid. She let out a low whistle as she approached the temporary stockade and Hagrid raised his hand to let her know that he heard her. She placed the bag on the ground then returned to the castle without another word. She avoided the hospital wing under the assumption that Snape would be asleep for at least a few hours. She settled on the lawn to watch Fred and George toss a bludger back and forth. Moments later, Hermione settled down next to her with yet another large book in her hands.
"You're gonna go blind, Hermione."
Hermione ignored the comment. "I stopped to see how Snape was on my way back. He's sitting up--"
"He's awake?" blurted Lindsay. "I thought for sure he had a bad concussion."
"He does. That's why Madam Pomfrey won't let him out until tomorrow morning. He's not at all happy about it."
"He's sitting up and talking with a concussion?"
Hermione looked exasperated, as she often did when explaining something to Ron, but she didn't get a chance to elaborate as Draco Malfoy sauntered up to them with Crabbe and Goyle in tow. Fred and George saw Malfoy approach the girls and seriously considered hitting him with the bludger before deciding to settle behind the girls, hovering on their brooms. They missed the beginning of the conversation, which is the only reason they didn't hex Malfoy on the spot.
"Well, look what we have here, boys. It's a squib and a mudblood."
Hermione's face reddened in anger, but she didn't get the chance to retort as Lindsay beat her to it.
"It's obvious that there's some tension between us, Draco--" began Lindsay as pleasantly as usual. Her placid tone made Hermione that much angrier.
"How dare you speak to me, you piece of filth!" Draco drew his wand and hexed Lindsay, thinking that a squib wouldn't be able to retaliate. The spell had barely been released from his wand and it was shot back at him. He flew into the air and landed, panting, on the lawn about ten feet away from where he'd been. Crabbe's and Goyle's tiny brains had difficulty processing what had happened and stood in confusion for several seconds before tending to the irate Malroy. He rose, slapping Crabbe's and Goyle's hands away, and shot a venomous glare at Fred and George before leaving. The twins laughed hysterically as the three of them ran away.
"I can't help but wonder what kind of home life that kid has. He mustn't have had very good role models," said Lindsay, still undaunted.
"That's exactly what George and I were thinking."
"It's like you read our minds," said George.
"What's that in your boot?" said Hermione pointing to Lindsay's boot.
"It's my wand," answered Lindsay without looking. "These boots have pockets on the sides. I love these things; they wear like iron. Great for hiking and working outdoors--"
"No," said Hermione in frustration. "That looks like Professor Snape's wand. Professor McGonagall was looking for it."
"Oh, you're right! I forgot I put it in there. I'd better give it back to him." Lindsay rose and headed for the hospital wing.
"What did you hit Malfoy with? I saw a flash of blue light, and I didn't recognize the spell."
"We didn't hit him with anything," answered Fred.
"I thought it was you," said George.
"It wasn't me," said Hermione. "My wand is still in my pocket."
"It couldn't have been Lindsay," said Fred.
"She's worse than Neville," said George.
Fred nudged George as he watched Crab and Goyle trying to keep up with a swift-running Malfoy. "We should've hit him with the bludger."