The Hufflepuffs at the back sniggered again; “Gwain, Lloyd!” Snape began to snarl… until his face suddenly convulsed in something of agony and a gasp escaped his lips. The entire class silenced, uncertain eyes watching the professor, wide and curious.

Snape staggered as he turned a little away from them, his face more pallid than usual; his breathing was erratic and his eyes looked haunted, focused at the middle distance.

No one dared ask him if he was okay - he wouldn’t do the same courtesy to them, they figured. Besides, he hated attention being drawn to himself - he usually liked to shift it onto someone else. If they asked, they might just offend him further.

It went on for about half a minute - but those thirty seconds were some of the longest and most anxious that the class had ever experienced in the Potions Master’s dungeon… Snape strove to regain his composure, though he knew the damage had been done; his black eyes glanced over his gaping students, and he swallowed, before speaking, in a hoarse, faint voice; “I must see the headmaster - class dismissed.”

And he swept past the desks and out of the door.

The class erupted with murmurs and gossip; ‘What was that all about?” “Perhaps he won’t come back?” “He must have a guilty conscience…” “But guilty of what?!” “Or maybe he’s ill?” “Maybe he’s…”

Cat shook her head at the whispers before she glanced at Jo; “What do you think?” she murmured.

Jo stared at the blackboard, “Well, he didn’t set us homework and the lesson is nowhere near finished… so he must have finally snapped.”

Cat rolled her eyes, seeing the headline immediately on a faux “Daily Prophet” - Snape Snapped! - in her head. She smirked at it, then muttered cautiously, “Didn’t you notice how he clawed at his arm? As if there was something festering under the skin?”

“I’m not surprised, if you take into account his practice of personal hygiene - or lack of, rather…”

“No, I think it’s something more… ‘tangible’… than that.”

“More tangible than a film of grease?”

Jo received The Stare from Cat, so sighed and said, “So what then?”

Cat stared at the door, “I don’t know.”

Jo stared at the door, too, following Cat‘s blank gaze for a moment; “Yes…” she sighed sarcastically, “It is a gorgeous door. I love the dilapidated, rusty effect on the hinges… c‘est trés beau.”

Cat turned rapidly back to her and they both laughed.

~~

“So what was that all about?” Dale asked over dinner.

Cat and Jo shook their heads, the news having now spread rapidly around the rest of the school. The entire hall seemed to be buzzing with conversation concerning the behaviour of the Potions Master. He hadn’t been seen since he rushed out of his third year class, and everyone was rather curious as to why. It wasn’t like Snape to do that.

“We’ve talked it over, through and through,” Jo replied, twirling some spaghetti bolognaise round her fork before sucking one of the pasta strands swiftly into her mouth.

“Yeah, and we’re still both stumped as to what to make of it.”

Dale shrugged until Jo almost choked her spaghetti over him as she spluttered; “Where would our common room be?”

Cat was caught unawares and it took her a while before she realised what Jo was talking about, though Dale was looking quite worried; “Our common room would be on the third floor past the old coat of armour,” he said slowly.

“No!” Joanne huffed, wafting a hand at him, “Where would the Madison House common room be?”

Dale blinked and stared at Cat, who went on to explain all about the Madison House, and the situation in which the concept had been born, when Snape had insulted both her and Joanne over breakfast. Dale was enraged by Snape’s vindictive words, just as much if not more so than Jo, but was intrigued by the Madison House and what they had discussed about it so far.

“I think the mascot should be wolf,” he resolved, “Wolves stick together in packs and are very clever. Plus, they were once regarded as outcasts - people were mistrustful of them when they roamed wild in the forests of Britain. It‘d fit with the ‘outsider’ concept of your House.”

Jo was thinking about this, still more attached to her fox mascot rather than using its canine cousin, whilst Cat found it hard to stifle her chuckle of surprise; “I can’t believe how seriously everyone’s taking this!” she said.

Dale shrugged, “It’s fun, though, ain’t it?”

“Yeah, about as fun as guessing what Zabini is…” Jo grinned, giving a glance to a skulking individual at the Slytherin table.

Cat frowned, “What do you mean ‘what Zabini is’?”

“No one’s quite sure whether it’s a boy or a girl.”

“What, Blaise Zabini?”

“Yeah,” Dale nodded, “It’s a Slytherin in the year above us.”

Cat cringed at the derogatory use of the term ‘it’; “C’mon guys, how can you not tell?”

“Look at… ‘it’, though,” Jo continued, unable to find another genderless pronoun with which to label Blaise, “It’s not enough that no one knows whether or not Blaise is a girl’s or a boy’s name, but it even looks like it could be either gender. It‘s got no girlish curves, but no particularly masculine points, either. And that hair cut could go either way.”

Cat looked at Blaise again - he, or she, did have long-ish hair, but it wasn’t too long for a stereotypical boy, nor too short for a stereotypical girl.

“Well, the Slytherins must know. He… or she… needs to sleep in one of the dorms.”

“Perhaps it’s a hermaphrodite,” Dale suggested, causing Jo to erupt with laughter.

Conversation remained on poor Blaise for the rest of the lunch hour until it was time for their History of Magic lesson. Or their ‘siesta’, as ninety percent of the class saw it - most people slept or daydreamed their way through the lesson, whilst Professor Binns, all but oblivious, droned his way through more Goblin rebellions and witch burnings.