Chapter 6

Imogen had no idea how to get to the Potions room, and so once she was inside the school, she looked about, hoping to spot a fifth year whom she knew to be in Potions. Ahead of her she saw the back of a tall boy with bright red hair - Ron. She fell in behind him at a short distance, and kept pace with him as he effortlessly made his way to the depths of the castle. While keeping an eye on him, Imogen looked around in the hope that she would memorize the way there. She had learned in the last two days that she had no innate sense of direction, and that she would have to rely on her memory to get her where she needed to go. Fortunately, it seemed her memory was very, very good - when she'd been working on Charms and Transfiguration earlier that morning, she found that for the most part she easily recalled what she'd read before going to bed.

Ron as usual was oblivious to what was going on around him, and was unaware that the new Gryffindor girl was a few paces behind him. Had he known Imogen was there, he would have walked with her, glad of the chance to talk. The girl was every bit as beautiful as Fleur Delacour, but more approachable. He was still annoyed at Hermione for how she'd embarrassed him in front of Imogen at breakfast. He hoped Imogen would sit near him again, so that maybe they would be able to converse. His reverie was interrupted by a guffaw of laughter, and he turned around suddenly. He was surprised to see Imogen, given that he had just been thinking about her. And a few steps behind Imogen were Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy's vile familiar, Pansy Parkinson.

It was Crabbe's stupid laugh he'd heard, which had been preceded by a remark of some kind from Goyle - he didn't quite catch what was said, but he noticed that Imogen's face had turned a bright red. Like Ron, Imogen had very pale skin, and when she blushed (and she was blushing furiously now), the change in colour was very prominent. Ron angrily turned towards Goyle, not even bothering to reach for his wand. Goyle was taken aback by Ron's furious look, and stopped, even retreating a step. The Weasley blood traitor had grown considerably over the summer, and was not someone to trifle with.

"That's right, Goyle - keep your fat trap shut." Ron looked over Malfoy and his other friends, but as they had nothing to say, he ignored the smirks he saw, turned his back on them contemptuously, and took a few quick steps to catch up with Imogen.

"Thanks," she said, still embarrassed. She wished she were better at magic- she would not need anyone to look out for her then. She decided that she would focus on Defence against the Dark Arts more than she had planned. Had she been able, she would have blasted Goyle on the spot with a nasty curse of some kind. But she could not even think of revenge along those lines, and so instead she took Ron's arm, and then turned her head to Goyle, giving him a sweet smile. After looking up admiringly at Ron, she released him, and the two walked on in silence, Ron feeling approximately ten feet tall. Imogen was not surprised that Ron had defended her - he had done the same for Hermione in second year, but rather less effectually in that instance. They arrived together at Potions and entered the classroom. Once Ron was seated, Imogen looked in her school bag, exclaiming that she was missing something. She stepped into the hall, waited a few minutes and then returned, by which point the desks around Ron were occupied by various students. Imogen seated herself such that Hermione was between her and Ron.

Soon everyone had arrived, the usual classroom chatter instantly ceasing with the arrival of Professor Snape, his entrance marked by the harsh slamming of the door behind him. His long, black greasy hair, the hooked nose, the jailhouse pallor - all this was as Imogen had expected. As he walked into the class, he projected an aura of extreme irritation, as if he would rather be anywhere than with this class at this time. She wondered whether he was always like this. Snape strode to the front of the class, and immediately began to address them. Imogen's perfect recall of what "the books" said about fifth year told her that Snape's speech had been altered by her presence.

"Normally I would talk to you now about the importance of your O.W.Ls. I would explain that if any of you have ambitions to study sixth year Potions with me, that you must achieve an "Outstanding" this year - nothing less will do. But unfortunately I find myself somewhat distracted - hindered in fact." He gazed at the class, pretending he was looking for someone or something.

"Is there a new student here? An 'Imogen Iorwroth?'"

"Yes, Professor, I am Imogen," she replied, standing as she spoke, ignoring the professor's deliberate mispronunciation of her name.

"Is it true what I heard in this morning's staff meeting? That I am to have in my fifth year O.W.L class a student who barely qualifies for first year? A completely untutored child, of uncertain parentage, perhaps not much more than a squib, a distraction to everyone else? I hope you can tell me that my understanding is wrong." His voice was low, calm, and full of malice. A few students in the class gasped when he commented on Imogen's ancestry, for in the wizarding world, the imputation of bastardy was a terrible one. The Slytherines in the class for the most part enjoyed the speech, and Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle did not trouble to conceal their laughter - no danger that Weasley or anyone else could take them to task, right in Snape's classroom. Crabbe even made a comment about bastards, which Imogen heard - fortunately, because otherwise she would not have realized just how vicious Snape's comment was. Imogen understood now that when Dumbledore had told her the night before that it would be up to the discretion of each teacher as to how to deal with her, he had not been warning her about Umbridge. It was Snape she had to worry about. But she didn't miss a beat.

"Professor, your understanding of my situation is almost perfectly correct - you summarized it very well, except that I am sure the Headmaster would not have been so rude as to suggest that I am a bastard." But Snape, aside from being vicious, was ill-mannered, and would not leave the topic.

"Then why don't you tell us all what ancient wizarding family you are from? Or if you are muggle-born, tell us who your parents are?"

"Gladly," she replied. "But given that I answered questions for three hours last night after having voluntarily taken Veritaserum, I am sure you can get very reliable answers to your questions from the Headmaster - if he wants to answer them." Hermione gasped at the girl's effrontery, and looked at Imogen in amazement.

"But I am asking you to tell me now, girl." Snape was sure the girl would refuse, and then he could get things off to a good start with her - detention, and then perhaps even removal from his class.

"Yes, and I'll give you the answer. But as you pointed out, I am rather slow, and so it would help me a lot if you would give me the question in writing." This answer infuriated Snape. How could this newcomer possibly know that a student was entitled to insist that a professor put an instruction in writing, if the order did not relate to the subject at hand or a disciplinary matter (in fact, Imogen knew nothing of this - she was just curious whether Snape would have the courage to write down his impudent inquiry). Snape could not possibly put such a question in writing - he would be the laughing stock of the staffroom were he to do so. And as Imogen had not refused outright to answer his question, he could not discipline her. But at least she had given him a way to leave the subject without losing face.

"Gladly, Imogen - and then I will find out if reading is among your few accomplishments. We'll deal with the issue after class. A class that you will not be a part of. You will seat yourself in the farthest corner of this room, and from now on will always sit there when in my Potions class. I will start you on first year work. This term I do not want to hear sound from you unless I ask you a specific question. And everyone listen to this - I forbid all of you from helping Ms. Iorworth in any way whatsoever - either in class or out of it. Your time would be far better spent on achieving a good mark in this course."