Wretched little beggar

Whispers and Cookies

Nothing notable happened during the rest of the week, and Saturday came quickly enough. And with it, the promised detention.

M had woken at dawn in cold sweats, and since the morning was free of classes, had decided to pay the Forbidden forest a new visit. Though she didn't see anything of any real interest - except for a stream that appeared to run the wrong way - she at least managed this time not to get too lost and return in time for lunch.

As soon as the Gryffindor set foot in the great hall, Professor McGonagall's crisp Scottish accent rang from the other side of the room.

-"There you are, M. Professor Flitwick has warned you that you are to do your detention tonight?" The witch waited for the girl's nod before continuing. "You are expected at 8 o'clock sharp in front of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, where you will be helping Professor Lockhart answer his fan mail."

That green-eyed glare could have sent shivers down anybody's spine. The animagus was not exempt, though she maintained a straight face.

-"Is there a problem?"

M looked down glumly at her shoes and didn't answer. This would teach her to generalize detention to writing lines in an empty classroom.

-"I thought so. Oh, and remember to visit Professor Snape's office after dinner to receive your Wolfsbane potion."

The deputy headmistress left, and the young girl was left to wonder what excuses she could possibly make up to skip that detention.

***

That afternoon passed at an alarming rate, and, much too quickly, M had finished eating dinner and was heading down to the dungeons. Hogwarts' large halls were almost entirely empty as most of the students were still eating, and the silence was welcome for a change.

After a few shortcuts, the young girl arrived in the lower parts of the castle. The air there was cold and humid as always, and the distant dripping of water could be heard. She got to the door of Snape's office and, reluctantly, raised her fist up to knock. Before she even had the chance to do so, though, the man's drawl sounded.

-"Come in."

M pushed open the heavy wooden door. The room was as dark and gloomy as when she had last seen it, strange jars lining the walls and potions bubbling in a corner. She couldn't help but glance at the fireplace; that picture was yet another mystery she hadn't solved.

The head of Slytherin was sitting at his desk, grading what looked like essays. Barely a week had passed since the beginning of class, how had he already found the time to test his students? He didn't look up when the girl entered, and just pointed at a cup at the edge of his desk, from which blue smoke was rising.

She moved to grab it, braced herself, and downed it in a gulp. It still tasted as horrid. M set the cup down, turned around, and left the room without exchanging another word with the teacher.

Now that that pleasant encounter was over, she was going to be late for her tête-a-tête with Lockhart. And after several minutes of careful consideration, she had finally decided she had more to lose if she skipped than if she suffered through those annoying hours. She had been in more uncomfortable situations before anyhow.

So, however reluctantly, she hurried down the drafty corridor and up multiple staircases until she reached the second floor. She hesitated for a moment, then clenched her jaw and knocked.

The door flew open at once, almost as if the man had been waiting on the other side, and Lockhart beamed down at her.

-"Ah, here's our little scallywag!" He said. "Come in, dear girl, come in."