-Chapter One-

As usual, Gilligan was the first to spot the newcomer on
the island. It was a man in his early forties with longish
dark hair and pale skin. He didn't know what color the
man's eyes were, however, because the man was
unconscious.

"Professor!" Gilligan ran to find the castaway who was,
arguably, the smartest man on the island.

The Professor was in the middle of an experiment which,
as always, Gilligan managed to completely wreck by
running straight into it.

"Gilligan," he chastised, wondering if the boy had problems
with depth perception. "Look at my experiment."

"Professor," Gilligan looked at the various scientific items on
the ground in front of him, "wouldn't you be better off doing
that stuff on a table?"

"Okay, Gilligan," the Professor could not stay angry at his
friend. "what have you found?"

"Oh! Right!" Gilligan couldn't believe he'd almost forgotten
the new arrival. Actually, he could believe it. "I found a man,"

"Where?" The Professor was interested. A newcomer could
mean rescue. "Show me where this man is."

Gilligan lead the Professor to the shore. By this time, the dark
haired man had regained consciousness and had gone
elsewhere.

The Professor was about to scold Gilligan when he saw the
footprints. Following them, he came upon their owner, who was
carefully studying some of the local flora.

"Botanist?" he asked, hopefully.

The dark-haired man turned. "Closer to alchemist," he admitted.
"Professor Severus Snape. This place doesn't seem to have
much in the way of useful plant life. I shall have to improvise, much
as I despise such foolishness."

Gilligan decided to return to the huts. All this talk was
way over his head.

"Improvisation is the heart of great discovery," the Professor
argued.

"Improvisation," Snape replied, "is fine for your line of work, but in
mine it can very well get you killed."

The Skipper looked up from his latest project as Gilligan ran up.
"Can you get the Professor? I need his help."

"He's talking to the other Professor right now."

"The other Professor?! There's someone else here?! We've got to
tell the others. We're being rescue!"

"We are?" Gilligan asked. "Oh boy!" he ran to tell Ginger and
Mary-Ann while the Skipper sought out the Howells to give them
the good news.

Soon, all of the castaways, save the Professor, were gathered
round outside the huts, shouting and talking over each other,
eager to learn more about their would-be rescuer.

The Professor walked up with the new arrival.

The newcomer looked over each of the castaways with a gaze
that could have shattered diamonds.

"You've already met Gilligan and myself," The Professor began the
introductions. "And that's the Skipper."

"Pleased to meet you," the Skipper extended a hand which the
newcomer stared at for a moment.

After an uncomfortable moment, Snape seemed to catch on. "Oh,
of course. One of your Muggle customs." he shook the Skipper's hand
for a moment, then disengaged.

"And this," the Professor continued, wondering what a Muggle was, "is
Mary-Ann, and Ginger."

"Hi," Mary-Ann waved, cheerfully, at him.

"Hi," Snape replied with far less enthusiasm. He doubted any of these
Muggles could help him get off this stupid island. The sooner Dumbledore
learned that it wasn't him that was responsible for what happened and
returned him to Hogwarts, the better.

"And this is Ginger," the Professor continued the introductions.

He stared at Ginger in disbelief as she slinked up to him. Was this Muggle
actually trying to seduce him?

"You must need a good massage," she suggested. "Why don't we get you
into a nice bathing suit and I'll give you a nice backrub down by the lagoon?"

Snape couldn't believe what he was hearing. Come to think of it, his shoulders
were a little stiff. No. He wasn't about to give in to some Muggle seductress.
But a backrub would feel nice. "Very well," he decided out loud. "But I strongly
suggest, young woman, that you keep your hands away from places where
they should not go."

"And last, but certainly not least," the Professor said, returning Snape's attention
to the introductions. "This is Mr. & Mrs. Howell."

"You seem very well bred," Snape observed. "Are you familiar at all with the
Malfoys?"

"Malfoy, Malfoy," Thurston Howell III mused. "the name does seem familiar. I
don't know them personally, however."

"Pity," Snape decided. "I don't suppose you have any owls on the island?"

"Owls?" Thurston asked.

"I was planning to owl a complaint to Dumbledore."

"You don't have a boat?" Ginger asked, petulantly.

The castaways all seemed very disappointed.

"I was banished here," Snape explained, "for something I didn't do. I need
to find an owl so I can write to Hogwarts and demand to know why I wasn't
given a fair trial before they kicked me out."

"Owl mail," Lovey Howell clapped her hands. "Oh, that sounds so marvelously
quaint, don't you think so, Thurston?"

"Indeed," her husband agreed, "very quaint indeed."

(tbc..)