Chapter 180: Two Wrongs Don't Make a Right (3)

Catherine tried to focus on Professor Oakenscript's lesson, but her mind kept wandering. The persistent ache from the unsuccessful transformation lingered on the background of her mind, making it nearly impossible to sit still for long. She shifted in her chair, trying in vain to find a more comfortable position.

"Would you mind?" – Snape hissed, his voice barely above a whisper. He quickly returned to scribbling notes with his squeaky, wobbly quill, his cramped handwriting somehow even less legible than usual.

Catherine pressed her lips into a thin line. He was probably the only person who could make her furious in mere seconds. Carter Thorne came in as a close second, but it wasn't quite the same. Yet, despite her dislike for the Slytherin boy, the young witch couldn't deny a nagging sense of sympathy for his situation—both at school and at home.

She knew his housemates were still tormenting him relentlessly, trying to force him to lift the curse on Lavinia and her friends. She'd noticed how he always ate alone, and unless Lily happened to join him during their free periods, he had no one willing to be near him. His robes were often dirty and rumpled, evidence of how often he was pushed around, and she was sure the older Slytherins were still physically bullying him. Occasionally, she spotted bruises on his arms—strategically placed where they wouldn't attract the attention of the professors.

Despite all of that, Snape seemed to have returned to his usual nasty, snarky demeanour toward her, which made the black-haired girl wonder if he felt some twisted relief after his father's death. He had even begun wearing a cologne, the scent drifting toward her whenever she sat beside him. It was surprisingly pleasant—woody and spicy, with hints of flowers, cumin, and vetiver. It reminded her of an open field on a windy day, and though she would never admit it aloud, she found herself enjoying the fragrance more than she wanted to.

When the lesson was finally over, Catherine gathered her books, her hands trembling slightly as she waited for everyone else to leave. The Professor and the rest of the class filed out, leaving her alone with Snape in the small, quiet classroom. As usual, he was focused on arranging the contents of his shabby, worn-out school bag, paying no attention to anything around him.

The girl pulled out a silver box from her own bag that contained a quill crafted from a sleek, ebony feather with a polished brass accent that gave it quite a refined touch. The nob was smooth and precise, designed to make writing effortless. Hesitating for a moment, the young witch left the box on the empty desk and stepped back.

Snape, sensing her movement, glanced at the quill, then narrowed his eyes. His black gaze burned with unmistakable dislike as it fixed on her, catching Catherine off guard. She hadn't expected gratitude, but she'd at least hoped for indifference.

'Why can't he just take it and leave?' – the Gryffindor taught, irritation prickling her nerves – 'Why does he have to make everything so difficult?'

"What is that supposed to be?" – Snape's voice was low and hoarse, dripping with suspicion.

"Isn't it obvious?" – Catherine replied, her confidence faltering.

Snape's scowl deepened. "Why would I care about your new school supplies?" - he snapped, shoving the box to the edge of the desk, away from him.

"I got it for you." – the girl said, feeling her face flush for reasons she couldn't quite explain.

The Slytherin's expression shifted in an instant—from frustration to full-blown fury. "How considerate!" - he hissed through clenched teeth - "Gifting me something I can't possibly afford myself. Should I be grateful, or should I applaud your exquisite taste in patronising charity?"

Catherine blinked, stunned by his venomous response. Her shock quickly turned to anger, her temper flaring. "I was just trying to be civil!" - she shouted back - "Your old quill sprays ink everywhere and makes that annoying screeching sound. It's really not a big deal for me—just take it!"

Snape's face turned deathly pale, ugly red blotches breaking out across his already blemished skin. When he finally spoke, his voice was different than his usual screeching. It was deep and velvety, with a hypnotic edge that sent an icy chill down her spine.

"I see." – he smirked, his lips curling cruelly – "The Queen of Gryffindor decided to throw some Galleons around and look after the poor! How very noble of you! I suppose, now that Lily's out of the picture, you're practicing to become a real lady. Though for that to happen, McMahon would first need to gouge out his own eyes."

"Well, in your case, Lily would need to do that, burn her smell receptors, and she still wouldn't date you!" – Catherine snapped back, fuming.

That struck a nerve. Snape grabbed the silver box and hurled it at her, but the girl ducked, the box clattering uselessly to the floor behind her.

"Are you fucking insane?" – she shouted, her green eyes flashing dangerously – "Are you so bitter that you can't even recognise a simple, nice gesture and instead choose to sulk in your own misery?!"

"Oh, look, here she is—the great Catherine Plantier, saviour of the downtrodden and broke!" – Snape scoffed, completely unfazed by her fury. His voice had risen again, turning into a sharp, high-pitched sneer – "You might fool your lackeys, but I saw right through you from day one. You're pathetic— sanctimonious, selfish, and sly. You've never known what it's like to be alone, to be hated, to never get what you deserve. Now, I suppose you've gotten bored with 'helping' your little puppy Lupin and decided to take on a new challenge—'saving' the slimy git from the dungeons. Isn't that what you've called me more than once?"

Catherine's jaw tightened, but the Slytherin wasn't done. He took a step closer, his dark eyes glinting with malice. "You always look down on people for using the Dark Arts, but in truth, you're no better—you hex people left and right without a second thought. And as for your morals, they're about as steady as a stray cat in heat. Though why any of those wankers would even want to touch someone like you is beyond me."

He paused, his lip curling into a disdainful sneer. "The only good thing about you, Plantier, is that unlike Potter and Black, you're not a coward. At least you fight fair, even though you completely lack elegance."

Catherine stood frozen, a rush of heat surging through her body. Her pulse pounded in her ears, and her hands began to tremble as she fought with every ounce of strength not to unleash a torrent of fire at Snape's stupid face. It wasn't news to her that he didn't like her, but she never imagined he thought so lowly of her. The realisation hit hard, especially given her recent acknowledgment—begrudging, though it was—that she actually respected him.

"Fine!" – she shouted, her voice cracking as she struggled against the tears threatening to spill – "You're clearly completely mental—on top of being arrogant and so utterly thick that you can't recognise a genuine gesture even if it smashes you right in that enormous nose of yours! Have it your way then! I'm never offering you any help ever again!"

The young witch bent down, snatched the quill from the floor, and shoved it into her school bag. Without sparing him another glance, she stormed out of the classroom. Heading toward the Great Hall for dinner, she found herself caught in a bottleneck on the first floor, where a flood of students poured out from their nearby lessons, forcing her to slow down when all she wanted was to escape.

"Hey, Flame!" – Sirius's voice made Catherine turn around. He, Peter, and James had appeared behind her, each holding a different Muggle device in their hands – "Done for today?"

"Yeah." – she nodded, her voice a bit flat.

"What's wrong?" – James asked, his brow furrowed in concern – "You look… off."

"Nothing really." – the girl lied, her tone dismissive. She eyed the pen James was holding – "What are you doing with that?"

"I have to make it work again." – he sighed dramatically – "Pretty sure it's broken, though."

"You probably just need to change the refill." – the young witch suggested, earning surprised looks from the three boys – "What? It's pretty obvious."

"You're brilliant, Flame!" – Sirius beamed – "Alright, how do I get mine to work?"

Catherine glanced at the unfamiliar tool Sirius was holding—some kind of metal device with a sharp, rotating cutting wheel and a handle for gripping. She had no idea what that could be.

"Figure it yourself." – she snapped, adding with a satisfied smirk – "Or you can always ask Marianne."

"Ouch!" – James chuckled – "Come on, you two! Don't start bickering before dinner—I'm starving! Honestly, why can't people move faster?"

As if on cue, a group of fifth-year Slytherins emerged from the nearest corridor, cutting off their path. Lavinia Nott led the group, flanked by Valeria Malfoy, their expressions immediately turning hostile as they locked eyes with the Gryffindors.

"Merlin's ghost! If it isn't Miss Egg-Head and her pack of blood-traitor friends!" – Lavinia sneered, her voice dripping with disdain as the other girls laughed obnoxiously.

"Do you want something, or is this just your daily dose of venom you need to release?" – Catherine asked with annoyance.

"Nothing special, Mudblood." – Lavinia smiled slyly – "I just thought I'd check in on you since there's an odd rumour going around. Is it true you stole Evans' boyfriend? It must be a lie because there's no way someone like Greg McMahon would even look at you twice."

"What is this wrench on about?" – Sirius asked, confused.

"The usual batch of lies the Slytherins cook up about me." – the young witch shrugged – "I was starting to worry, honestly. Normally, they start in the beginning of every month. I thought they'd forgotten about me."

"Told you it was a lie." – Valeria Malfoy cut in, her arrogant smile widening – "She looks worse than ever. Even Black dumped her for Marianne Trundle. At least she has breasts."

The Slytherin girls burst into laughter. Catherine's eyes narrowed, her anger bubbling over. "I may not have breasts, but you know what else I don't have?" - she snapped, her voice cold - "Pimples that spell 'bitch' across my face."

"How dare you!" – Lavinia shrieked, turning scarlet as she noticed the small crowd gathering around, some students openly giggling at Gryffindor's remark. Her eyes flashed furiously, and she hissed like an angry Kneazle, drawing her wand.

The black-haired girl saw the movement and was quicker. She whipped out her own wand, her voice icy and calm. "Expelliarmus!"

Lavinia's wand flew from her hand, clattering to the floor as the fifth-year screamed in frustration, her face contorted in rage. Catherine smirked, enjoying the triumph. In her peripheral vision, she caught sight of Snape in the crowd, his dark eyes watching, and she allowed herself a small, victorious smile.

"Vestimentum Reducio!"

A female voice sounded from behind, and before Catherine could react, she felt the spell hit her. A horrible squeezing sensation wrapped around her, her clothes tightening painfully. She heard a sharp crack, and then the pressure ceased—but it took her a moment to realise what had happened. Gasps echoed around her, followed by laughter and mocking whistles.

The young witch glanced at the pieces of fabric on the floor that used to be her clothes, and panic set in as she frantically tried to cover her naked body. James leapt in front of her, absolute horror etched on his face. Catherine's gaze shifted to Sirius, who stood frozen, his expression twisted in shock, and something inside her broke. She began sobbing uncontrollably, wishing the earth would split and swallow her whole.

"Stop staring!" – James roared furiously at the gathered crowd – "Get lost—NOW!"

"It's not like there's much to see anyway." – Snape's mocking voice rang out over the murmurs, prompting another wave of laughter.

James and Sirius both whipped out their wands, stepping toward Snape, murder in their eyes.

"Stop it!" – Catherine cried through her tears, her voice cracking – "I don't want any more fighting, please… I just… I need to…"

Suddenly, the girl felt the gentle touch of fabric as a cloak was draped over her shoulders. She looked up, her teary gaze meeting Regulus Black's. He looked genuinely disturbed, almost apologetic.

"Don't touch her!" – Sirius hissed, approaching his brother in a threatening manner. Regulus stepped back, his eyes darting away. "I was just trying to spare us all from that pathetic sight." – he said loudly enough for the Slytherins to hear, before turning and walking away.

"Flame, are you alright?" – James asked softly, wrapping the cloak tighter around her to cover her properly – "Come on, let's get you back to the Gryffindor Tower. Can you walk?"

Catherine nodded, avoiding his gaze, feeling her cheeks burning with shame. She doubted she could ever be more humiliated. Tears rolled down her cheeks again as the crowd finally dispersed, leaving them alone in the corridor.

"Hey!" – James said, gently lifting her chin to make her look at him – "I know this was horrible, and I wouldn't blame you if you were embarrassed. But don't feel that way with us. We'll never judge you—ever. Besides, if it makes things any easier, I'll strip right here, right now, and we'll be even!"

"Eww, no!" – Catherine managed to laugh through her tears.

"I'm always available if you reconsider!" – James grinned – "And Sirius too, right mate? Padfoot?"

They looked around, but Sirius was nowhere in sight. A few moments later, he emerged from a nearby classroom, supporting Peter, who looked dazed and unsteady.

"What happened?" – James exclaimed.

"Apparently, some people are such utter cowards that they don't even have the guts to hex you while looking you in the eye!" – Sirius growled, his face livid – "And then they run away and cover their tracks like the rats they are."

"What are you talking about?" – James asked, bewildered.

"It was Bellatrix, Flame!" – Peter finally managed to croak – "I saw her hex you, and then she stunned me when I got in her way.

"She's not getting away with this!" - James declared, his confusion replaced by cold determination. He glanced at Sirius - "We need to figure out our next move—together."

The other wizard nodded, his expression still clouded with rage. "You can bet we'll make her regret it. And not just her—all of them. They all laughed."

Catherine looked down at the ground, her emotional exhaustion washing over her in waves. The thought of taking revenge on Bellatrix seemed pointless. No amount of payback would erase what had happened. She was the laughingstock of the school now, and she doubted she'd ever want to show her face outside the dormitory again.