Lindsay reached the hospital wing just as Dumbledore was leaving it. "Hello, Professor." Dumbledore smiled, but didn't answer. He pointed to his mouth as he was obviously eating something, most likely something sweet. Lindsay nodded to him and entered the hospital wing. McGonagall was the first person she spotted. "I have Professor Snape's wand. Sorry, Professor, I stuffed it in my boot and forgot about it."
"That's a great relief, Miss Gray. Filius and I searched everywhere and couldn't find it. We thought the Hippogriff might have eaten it."
Snape was sitting up in bed. His arms were folded across his chest, and he looked to be in a particularly unpleasant mood. Lindsay was surprised to see that he had no bandage on his head. His hair and face were clean. Obviously Madam Pomfrey had washed it while he was unconscious, most likely so she could dress the wound on the top of his head. Lindsay stood next to his bed. "I bet you're happy to get this back." She pulled Snape's wand from her boot. The instant she touched it, a powerful jolt of energy ran through her hand. She stared at it in wonder.
"Is something wrong, Miss Gray?" said Snape.
"Yeah...um, I mean, no, of course not. Here you go, Professor." She handed the wand to him and patted his arm. "I've just remembered something, Professor. I'll be right back." She turned and darted out of the ward.
"No running, Miss Gray," shouted McGonagall. Snape groaned and put his hands to his head. "Oh, forgive me, Severus. I forgot myself."
Lindsay dashed up the hall and caught up with Professor Dumbledore. She pulled her wand out of her boot and held it up for him. "It's fake! You gave me a fake wand!"
"It's a paperweight," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
"I've been walking around with this thing for almost two months." Dumbledore grinned broadly at her. "It's not funny, Professor...well, alright it is. It's hilarious, in fact. But why--why would you deliberately make a fool of me?"
Dumbledore took her arm, and she stashed the fake wand back in her boot. "I didn't do it to make you look foolish. It did it because you're terrified of your abilities. A wand would amplify your magic, thereby increasing your fear. You must accept what you are--"
"You saw what I did. I got angry and destroyed an entire room. What if someone had been in there?"
"But no one was in there. You wouldn't have harmed anyone if there had been. Your concern for other's welfare is too great."
Lindsay shook her head. "I can't control it, Professor."
"You have much more control than you realize. Come up to my office with me. I want to show you something." They ascended the stone staircase to the Headmaster's office. He strode over to a cabinet, opened it, and with a wave of his hand, floated a stone bowl embossed with runes onto a table. "Do you know what this?" Lindsay shook her head. "This is called a Pensieve. It can store memories and allow them to be viewed. Now, I want you to recall Severus getting injured."
"Why?"
"Just, trust me. Is the memory clear in your mind? Good, now imagine yourself giving it to me." Dumbledore raised his wand to Lindsay's temple and drew out a long silvery thread and placed it in the Pensieve. "Now lean into the bowl. I assure you it's perfectly safe."
Lindsay did as Dumbledore instructed and found herself running alongside...herself. "This is weird," she said, but no one seemed to hear her. She followed her other self to the Hippogriff. She winced as she watched the branch smash onto Snape's head. The events replayed just as she remembered with one exception. She thought Flitwick had levitated Snape's body for her to transport, but she was seeing herself do it. Not only did she do it without dropping him, but she made it all the way to the hospital wing without assistance.
She stood up from the bowl, a shocked expression on her face. "I thought Professor Flitwick lifted him. I have a photographic memory, how could I not remember correctly?"
"Because you didn't want to," answered Dumbledore. "To accept that you can control your magic, means accepting that it's a part of you." He strode over to a small jar on his desk and brought it over to Lindsay. "Lemon drop?"
"Oh, yes, thank you. My parents traveled extensively and, obviously, so did I. I've visited huge modern cities, and ancient towns and cities full of equally ancient customs. I've been to some of the most remote places in the world and met all manner of people, but I've never felt so out of place until I came here. This is a world within a world, and I'm lost in it. My sense of reality has been turned upside down."
"Magic is not a curse, Lindsay, but a great gift; a gift made all the greater because your magic is unique."
"Everything is so new, Professor. I feel like I'm in a dream, and I don't know what's real and what isn't."
"What makes you think that dreams aren't real?" countered Dumbledore. "Perception versus reality, it's a confusing deliberation at the best of times. As a musician, you have greater aural acuity than most people. Does that mean your musical perceptions are false just because others can't hear what you hear?"
"What if I do something wrong?"
"Then you'll try again until you've got it right, just like we all do. Trust yourself, Lindsay. It's high time you faced your true nature. And stop punishing your body. This grueling exercise routine of yours is unhealthy. You think if you exhaust yourself enough, you'll exhaust your magic too. I'm afraid it just doesn't work that way."
Lindsay looked shocked. "How did you know?"
"I'm a busybody," replied Dumbledore. He smiled at her, and his eyes began to twinkle again. "Now, go and visit Severus. I know you're eager to question Poppy."
"Right again, Professor," said Lindsay. "Thank you, sir."
Lindsay returned to the hospital wing feeling lighter, as though a great weight had been lifted from her. She entered to see McGonagall seated next to Snape and looking like she'd rather be elsewhere. Madam Pomfrey was trying to encourage him to eat. "Hello, all," said Lindsay. "Sorry I ran out on you, Professor Snape. Now that I'm back, I promise to give you my full attention."
"Lucky me."
"So how are you feeling, any dizziness or nausea?" Madam Pomfrey harrumphed as she stood next to McGonagall, carefully observing Lindsay.
"No, just a slight headache," answered Snape.
"Extraordinary," said Lindsay. "May I look at the cut on your head?"
Snape frowned and seemed unsure how to answer such an unexpected question. "I suppose," he said slowly.
Lindsay gently pushed his hair behind his ears and cupped his face in her hands. Snape stiffened, uncomfortable with the unfamiliar contact. She first looked into his eyes and muttered, "No dilation." His hair was parted centrally, right where the majority of the gash was located, which made spotting and treated it easier. There was a clear paste smeared liberally over it. There was very little swelling. The gash was closed and the skin was already well-knitted. "Was there any brain swelling, Madam Pomfrey?"
"I wouldn't be worth much if I couldn't handle something as simple as a swollen brain," answered an increasingly perturbed Pomfrey.
"Any vertebral damage?"
"Some minor compression fractures, but nothing I couldn't mend."
Lindsay released Snape's face and kissed the top of his head, well away from the injury. His eyes widened and he rubbed his hand over the spot as if it were itchy. "I'm in awe of your skill, Madam Pomfrey."
Poppy's vexation immediately cooled and she thanked Lindsay. "I did nothing special; any medi-witch could've done the same." She turned her attention to Snape. "You had better eat that, Severus, if you plan on leaving this ward by tomorrow."
"May I sit, ma'am, or were you two having a private conversation?"
"Please do join us, Miss Gray," answered McGongall, who appeared to be very relieved to have another person join them, especially one as loquacious as Lindsay.
Lindsay sat on Snape's other side and instinctively scooped up his hand so it rested between hers. He glowered at her, but didn't pull away. "You're probably wondering why I ran out of here like I did."
"Not really," answered Snape.
"I am a bit curious, Miss Gray," said McGonagall, shooting an acid look to Snape.
"When I took Professor Snape's wand out of my boot, I felt a jolt of energy from it. I hadn't noticed it earlier because of all the excitement." Both McGonagall and Snape appeared baffled. "My own wand doesn't do that." They still looked confused. "So I ran after the Headmaster and he informed me that my wand is actually a paperweight."
McGonagall blinked. "I'm sorry, Miss Gray, did you say that Professor Dumbledore gave you a paperweight?"
"Yes, I did."
After a moment of stunned silence, McGonagall's cheeks began to flush. "All this time!" she began. Snape winced. "No wonder you've been doing so poorly. I can't believe Albus would do such a thing to you. You're taking this awfully well, I must say."
"I was a bit angry at first. But I do love a good joke, even if I'm the butt of it."
"This is no laughing matter, Miss Gray. Albus' little lark has wasted both your time and ours. Not to mention how foolish you must've felt. Stop smirking, Severus!" McGonagall rose abruptly. "I'm going to have a talk with him. Severus, eat that! It's not poison, you know." She stormed out of the hospital wing slamming the door behind her.
"Yikes, I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of that," said Lindsay. She pulled Snape's tray of food over the bed where she could get a better look at it. Her other hand still held his. "Let's see what you've got here. That looks tasty," she said as she picked up a fork. "Do you want some help?"
Snape yanked the fork from her hand and dislodged his other hand from her grasp. "I do not," he growled. "I'm quite capable of feeding myself."
"All right, Professor," said Lindsay, who sounded like she was placating a petulant child.
Madam Pomfrey returned and was very pleased to see that Snape had begun eating. "Do you need anything, Severus? No? I'll be back with something to help you sleep when you're finished. He'll be needing some rest, Miss Gray...."
"Yes, ma'am," replied Lindsay and rose to leave. She leaned in to kiss Snape's forehead, but he flinched away. She smiled and kissed the tips of two fingers and touched his shoulder with them. He looked at her as though she'd lost her mind. "Pleasant dreams, Professor."
###
McGonagall stormed up to the Headmaster's office, her anger growing by the second. Dumbledore lowered his magazine to greet her. "Minerva, what a pleasant--"
"How could you, Albus?" she shouted.
"Lemon drop?"
"No, I don't want a blasted lemon drop! A fake wand, how could you do that to the poor girl? You made her look like a fool!"
"Minerva--"
"Weeks! For weeks she's been trying to use a paperweight as a wand! No wonder her spell-casting has been so disastrous! If she'd been a matriculated student, she'd have failed half of her classes! Wait till Filius hears about this! If I didn't know better, I'd swear you were one of the Weasley twins!"
"Minerva, are you quite finished? It was for her own good. I didn't do it to embarrass the girl."
"What possible good could come from a juvenile prank like that?"
"You saw how she was when we met her. She was terrified of magic. A real wand would've only frightened her more."
"We are experienced instructors, Albus," said Minerva indignantly. "We could've helped her through it."
Dumbledore shook his head. "It wouldn't have worked. She'd have given up and gone home the first time she used her wand. The girl's immersed in a world where magic is expected, completely the opposite of how she's been brought up. She feels uncomfortable and out of place. A need to please others is a great part of her character, so it was important for her to be here long enough to form attachments. She respects you, and she'll want to prove herself to you. It was a harsh lesson for her, I admit, but it was a necessary one. I think we'll be seeing great improvements in her."
###
The jokes about Snape's clean hair and overnight stay in the hospital wing were endless: he lost a fight with an enchanted shampoo bottle; he'd had his first shower and got sick; he accidentally fell into a large soapy cauldron, and on and on they went. Snape must've been aware of them because, according to Neville, he was even meaner and more vindictive than usual. Students from all of the houses, except Slytherin, saw a drastic rise in detentions.
There was a crowd of Gryffindors in varying years in Lindsay's rooms. Her door was open. Students were coming and going, helping themselves to whatever edibles that Ron had left in her kitchenette. The twins had somehow found a crate of butterbeer. Lindsay preferred not to ask them how they'd come by it. She sat in her desk chair with her guitar in her lap, strumming it softly. It seemed like every kid that came in had a new Snape joke. "I don't want to be a stick-in-the-mud, guys, but it's not funny to ridicule someone behind his back. He doesn't have the chance to defend himself. " All heads in her near vicinity turned in her direction, a slight feeling of tension rose in the air.
"You're not actually defending The Greasy Git, are you?" asked Fred. He'd transfigured Lindsay's violin into a ukulele and was presently strumming it.
"I suspect a curse," said George. He rose with his wand drawn and began to scan Lindsay with it, trying to detect dark magic.
"I haven't been cursed, George."
"Cursed people always deny being cursed," replied George. "Can't find anything, Fred."
"Hmm, this is puzzling," said Fred.
"Oh, stop it, you two. I'm fine. It's just that I value honesty. If I have a problem with someone, I like to discuss it with him and get it settled rather than talk behind his back."
"We'd say it to his face, but our instinct for self-preservation is too great," remarked George.
"We're not being dishonest," explained Fred. "Since The Git abuses his authority as a teacher, we feel no guilt whatsoever in ridiculing him behind his back. Tit for tat, right George?"
"Right, Fred."
"I hate to say this, but you two can be really cruel sometimes...wait a second," said Lindsay, looking around the room. "Have you seen Neville?"
"Nope," replied the twins.
Lindsay rose, placed her guitar in her vacated chair and headed for the common room. No one there had seen Neville either. "I bet he forgot the password again," muttered Lindsay. She moved Sir Cadogan out of the way to find a very flustered Neville standing in the hall trying to recite a rhyme. He wasted no time getting into the common room before any of the teachers caught him.
"I tried to put the password in a rhyme like you told me," said Neville, "but Sir Cadogan kept shouting at me and I got confused."
"Poor Neville," said Lindsay as she gave him a quick hug. "We'll find something that works for you."
"I think I should just write the passwords down from now on. I'm going to turn in. Good Night, Lindsay."
Loud applause erupted from Lindsay's rooms. "Lindsay, you're missing it," shouted Jackson, a sixth-year boy who'd taken quite a shine to Lindsay. "George transfigured your guitar into a three-and-a-half string lute. He and Fred are performing a song they wrote."
"There's no such thing as a three-and-a-half string lute," replied Lindsay.
"There is now."