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A full week had passed since the term had begun, but the girl remained in
the room of the hospital wing. The woman had cast many spells over her removing
her scars and healing old wounds, thus enabling her a greater range of motion and
an increased agility. However, one scar was still left untouched: the collar mark
about her neck; something about the severity and the obscurity of the mark left the
woman with a pit in the bottom of her stomach; unable to cast the spell to remove
it, the scar was left it intact. The girl seemed perfectly at ease with it however, not
bothered by it in the slightest for she made no complaint, but she neither
complained nor praised; she merely said nothing as though she were incapable of
making speech. The woman did examine her for this unsightful ailment, but the
young witch seemed to possess all the mechanisms required to bring sound to life.
By the following Monday, Mac was released to attend classes and verily do as she
pleased, the collar scar, however, still very much intact.
There were whispers and stares as she entered the magnificent hall and took
her place timidly at her house table; the tables confused her, each was for each
house, that she understood; there was one for the house of Ravenclaw, the house of
Hufflepuff, for the house of Gryffindor, and for her house, the house of Slytherin,
but they were not permitted to mingle between houses? Were they not all people
in the end? Did it matter their differences? Did they forget their similarities?
Quietly she ate and hurried towards her transfiguration class to find herself her
shadowy seat in the corner.
She found the class to be quite entertaining, if one might use the word in a
crude manner. Not five minutes had passed before she had finished the day’s
lesson and sat with her knees curled up tight to her chest simply waiting for the
remainder of her class to complete its work or the clock on the wall to call an end
to the class. Slipping into a daydream, the professeur paced over to her side to
examine her notes and her seat work. Unable to find fault, she left the girl alone
and continued her inspection of the other students’ work.
Mac’s other classes continued in such a manner, she simply had a particular
ability. In the staff room that evening while the teachers congregrated to unwind
before chasing their students to bed; the topic of conversation was of this odd
collared girl with the torch like hair.
"Finishes her work within five minutes then sits curled up not making a
sound..."
"Not a quill with her things, but keeps perfect notes..."
"Silent, but Pomfrey says she can talk..."
"And what about this neck of her’s..."
"Poor wretch, ‘spect she’s not a home to go to. You see her at meals?
Lord, you’d think she’d died and gone to heaven the way she looks at the food;
even a bowl of porridge in the morning, almost see something in her eyes, the poor
dear..."
They all agreed that Mac was indeed a peculiar creature, not overly certain
where she had come from, just that she was there with them now. One amongst
the crowd, however, had remained silent up until now. Like a snake he twisted
himself a little straighter in his chair and hissed,
"She’s trouble." The severe looking woman turned to him and nearly
growled,
"You believe everything short of a snake is trouble Severus Snape." Smoothly
he hissed,
"Is that a threat my dear Minerva McGonagall? You are not one to choose
favourites, now are you..." Her eyes seemed to darken but she forced a smile. As
she opened her mouth to speak the caretaker of the castle school came into the
staff room, puffing a touch as though he had run from the other end of the building
to this room. After steading him a moment, he angry stated,
"A fine lot you are, lounging about around here. Students screaming there’s
a lion running loose in the castle; I tells them no, and to quit telling lies else I’d
write them up for a detention, until I lay my eyes upon it." The professeurs looked
between themselves, quite anxious and a touch fearful. The caretaker continued,
"It’s not like any lion you’ll find in the muggle world, no, it’s coat is a flaming red
and it has a white--"
"Collar." The severe woman had cut him off, "A mark worn into the fur
like it were harnessed by a collar bound to tight?" The caretaker simply nodded.
The woman turned to the others. "We have an illegal animagus running about our
halls: Mac."The Rampant Lion
