White Heather for Protection

Time Flies. So Does a Broom

"But why can't fresh nettle be used instead of dried nettle? Their engorgement property would make Swelling Solution more potent and hence lessen the required dosage," Heather reasoned.

It was the first Wednesday since second year had started and she was once again having an extra lesson with Professor Snape. Fred and George still hadn't stopped giving her funny looks whenever she rushed through dinner on Wednesdays.

"Accounting for that minuscule amount of sap in the fresh nettle during the brewing is a tedious and rigorous process. It requires a longer simmering time at a fixed temperature to allow the excess water to boil off while trying to keep the pufferfish eyes from burning," Professor Snape lectured while he worked with his cauldron of Swelling Solution.

He then sneered contemptuously. "In other words, the recipe was published with simpletons in mind so that even amateurs could brew it, even if it would be much weaker."

Heather smothered a chuckle and asked the Professor if he would demonstrate the simmering process again. Eventually, Heather got the hang of it and she cleaned up her workspace.

"I'm done; may I go now Professor?"

"I would like a word before you leave, Miss Potter."

Heather was surprised, but took a seat in front of the Professor.

"As I am sure you recall, Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup and thus the House Cup last year," he said scornfully.

Heather nodded, though she still didn't know where this was going.

"Their seeker, Mr Charles Weasley, has just graduated. This leaves them with just a substandard team."

Well, she wouldn't exactly call them substandard. She had heard from Fred that their new captain, Oliver Wood, was an excellent keeper and highly devoted to the sport. Still, she waited patiently for the man to broach his point.

"There has not been a Slytherin win for the Quidditch Cup in years. Definitely not since the second Weasley took position." Professor Snape looked at her expectantly.

"Err, yes," Heather said uncertainly, "I really hope Slytherin has a chance now that Weasley has graduated." She really didn't know what the Professor was angling for. Surely he didn't hold her back just to have small talk about Quidditch of all things.

The wizard's eye twitched in irritation as he said with forced patience, "Madam Hooch assures me that you are a satisfactory flyer."

Heather's mind clicked in understanding. "Sir, you are suggesting that I try out for the team?" The glint in his eye told her that 'suggest' was an understatement.

Well, Heather enjoyed watching the matches, and the twins had gone on and on about how fun the sport was to play. As she thought more on the subject, she found herself warming up to the idea. Fred and George would be trying out as beaters too. It would be fun to compete against them.

"I'll consider the idea, Professor Snape," Heather replied after her contemplation. She didn't want to actually commit to it yet.

He wasn't quite fooled by her nonchalance, judging by the triumphant look on his face. "Of course, Miss Potter. Have a good evening."

~~~

Heather did eventually go for the try-outs. Her year mates glared daggers at her, but she ignored them like usual. They couldn't do anything with Madam Hooch watching, anyway.

She caught the snitch three times in the hour-long period – three times more than the other candidates. It seemed that her rapid reflexes had proved once again useful. Well, the Dursleys had to be good for something.