Snape was genuinely furious this time. For half an hour without pause, he subjected Eliana to a stream of scathing sarcasm.
"What a prodigy you are, Miss Richie. Little Hogwarts Castle can no longer contain your grand ambitions. Is the vast Forbidden Forest your new domain?"
"The Forbidden Forest. Do you know what 'forbidden' means? Or did I, poor speaker that I am, somehow tell you to go into the forest?"
Eliana, who had listened for half an hour without hearing him repeat himself once, poked her head up, then hesitated. Huh? Who's a poor speaker?
The moment she looked up, Snape caught her. He seized the back of her collar and lifted her into the air like a kitten held by the scruff—small, pitiful, and helpless.
He turned her around in midair.
"Let me see. Hah. Both ears are present. Why, then, do you only hear half of what I say? Hmm?"
Eliana guiltily lowered her eyes. She glanced left and right, anywhere but at Snape.
She let out a tiny mew through her nose. It meant nothing in particular; she was merely acknowledging that she had heard him this time.
Snape, too consumed by anger to care about her response, took one look at the crown of Eliana's head—her ears—the back of her neck as she ducked her head—her paws rubbing together—and his venom poured forth like a fountain with its tap thrown wide open.
"Miss Richie, you blah blah blah..."
"What a pity you're not in my house. I have no authority to expel you..."
Eliana, dangling in the air again, stole a glance at Snape.
Pitiful little me.jpg
Snape gave another cold laugh. "I nearly forgot. You're a Gryffindor! Hah, what a perfect example of a foolish, reckless, arrogant little lion cub. I doubt even the