Cat's Eye

Ch. 1 In Which there is a New Professor, and Oliver Wood is Tired

There were two things sitting in front of her that afternoon, both of which made her feel the same way- apprehensive, but oddly excited.

A contract, and Professor Albus Dumbledore.

He sat and watched her as she considered, his face showing many things. The wrinkles in his skin and the whiteness of his beard were clues to the advanced age she knew he possessed. She would, in fact, have thought him quite ancient, were it not for his eyes.

The eyes of Merlin himself, she supposed, would have held similar depth of knowledge. Similar depth of caring. And, above all, that twinkle.

"Well?"

He pushed the quill across the desk. She took it, twirling it in her fingers for a moment to admire the sweep of the eagle feather. Then, squaring her shoulders, she set the tip to the parchment in front of her, and signed her name in simple, readable letters:

Ailura Starscribe.

Professor Ailura Starscribe.

That had a nice ring to it.

"Then it's done," said Dumbledore cheerily. "Excellent, Professor. I am very much looking forward to the coming year."

"So am I," Ailura grinned. "Now, when is the Sorting Ceremony?"

"Seven o'clock, but I wouldn't worry. The rest of the students make such a commotion arriving that you can't miss it."

"All right, if you're sure... I'd better go unpack properly, or I won't have dress robes for the feast." Ailura stood up. Across the desk, Dumbledore did the same. He reached out a hand to her, and she shook it firmly, still smiling.

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Following the directions of the kindly portraits, Ailura soon found her way to the tower room that was to be hers. Her trunks were waiting outside the door rather than inside the room, which struck her as curious until she noticed the door knocker.

A lion's head, teeth bared in a snarl, sat exactly at eye level on the heavy oak door. There was no knob.

Intrigued, she looked closely and felt about where the knob should have been. Nothing. Then, on a sudden hunch, she gently laid a finger on the lion's nose. "What do I do with you?" she said softly. The lion stirred beneath her touch and spoke.

"Just put your finger in my mouth."

"Ah, so you can taste me? How clever." Ailura removed her finger from the lion's muzzle and inserted it in between the metallic teeth. Immediately, they clamped down on her fingertip. She felt a prick, almost like a bite, and then the lion released her.

"Professor Starscribe," it growled, "you are now the only one who can open this door. If you wish others to have access, you must bring them here and they must do what you just did." Then it froze back into its previous solidity. The door swung open, and she stepped inside.

Ailura wound her way up the short spiral staircase lining part of the wall of her tower, her trunk following behind her like a particularly obedient dog.

Dumbledore had told her that the tower had been empty for several years before she came. It had previously belonged to a little witch whose Levitating Charms had been very good. The stairs had not bothered her, as she could simply float up them. Ailura was toying with the idea of enchanting them so that they moved like the Muggle escalators she'd seen in London, but had the feeling that she'd end up leaving them the way they were.

Other professors had objected to the tower's layout because of the stairs, but also because of the rooms. It had three small rooms, one on top of the other; a sort of office area with a desk on the first floor, a fireplace and some furniture on the second, and a bedroom on the third. Most professors preferred the one-level arrangement commonly found around the castle, but this was quite to Ailura's liking, since she didn't mind stairs and really liked the idea of living in a tower. Dumbledore seemed to have sensed this, and had offered her the tower straight away.

The second-floor "parlour", as Dumbledore had called it, looked comfortable. The "furniture" consisted of two armchairs and a great number of bookcases that lined the walls. Ailura smiled happily. She had brought rather a lot of books with her, shrunk down to fit in the trunk, so the bookcases were most fortuitous additions to the tower.

Finally, she reached the third floor. There was a canopy bed with heavy curtains, exactly like the ones that the students slept in. A large wardrobe occupied one corner of the room, and a dressing table with a mirror sat next to the tall, wide-silled bay window. Ailura studied the window appraisingly, thinking vague pleased thoughts of cushions and window seats. She motioned her trunk down to the floor by the end of the bed, and waved the locks and latches open. Clothes began floating from the trunk towards the wardrobe, whose doors sprang obligingly open to accept them. Then came the books, which she unshrunk and sent floating down the stairs to the second floor, where they found places on the empty bookshelves. Then came the false bottom of the trunk, which she stowed in a convenient corner.

Kept safe from harm in the space underneath it, nestled in padding, were a few magical items that she had picked up in Diagon Alley, hoping to use them in her classes, and a broomstick.

It had been shrunk to fit in the space available, but Ailura had discovered there were very few things that a competent witch or wizard could not shrink without causing any damage to the item in question. Now, with a loving pat, she restored it to its original size and propped it in a corner, twigs up so as not to bend them.

Then she looked through the wardrobe, selected her favourite set of dress robes, and began preparing for dinner.

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"Hippogriff," said Oliver Wood absently, and the Fat Lady swung aside. He stepped through the portrait hole, his trunk floating behind him, and headed straight for the stairway to the dormitories. He didn't notice the pair of redheads sitting on the couch by the fire, nor did he notice the three girls sprawled on the rug, gossiping idly. That didn't matter, though, as they noticed him.

"Hey, Oliver!" Angelina Johnson called. "Come talk a bit, we didn't see you on the train and we're dying to hear what you did over the summer!"

Oliver smiled wearily. "'Lo, gang." Leaving his trunk by the stairway, he stumbled over to the group and flopped into a chair.

Fred raised an eyebrow at him. "Why so lackluster, Wood? Come on, just a month 'til Quidditch season! You should be full of energy!" he teased.

Oliver propped his head on his hand and blinked his eyes back open. "I'm sorry, I'm a bit slow at the moment... stayed up most of last night. Forgot about a parchment I was supposed to do for Binns."

George shook his head. "How studious of you. And you haven't taken any Pepperup Potion yet?" The answer was obvious to them all as the seventh-year stifled a yawn.

"I wanted a nap before the Feast," he said, "but you lot spoiled my clever plans." Fred and George looked at each other, winked, and took a bow.

"Least we could do for you, after all those early morning Quidditch practices last year," said Fred, with an impish look in his eyes. "Come on, we should go down to the Hall, they'll start without us!" The twins each grabbed one of Oliver's hands and hauled him to his feet. Alicia put both hands on his shoulders and gave a shove, propelling him in the direction of the portrait hole. He laughed, and joined the merrily chattering group as they left the common room.

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Ailura smoothed the front of her navy-blue robes nervously, then stepped into the Hall. She realised that the door she was at was a side door, probably used only by teachers, and led her right to the head table. She recognised some of the professors; there was Poppy Pomfrey, and that looked very much like Tabitha Hooch, and-

A cold voice spoke up behind her. "You, I suppose, are the new Professor... Starchild?"

She turned, to see a dark-cloaked figure behind her. Greasy black hair hung to his shoulders. His sharp, dark eyes looked down a slightly hooked nose at her. She had the

distinct impression he did not approve of what he saw, but made up her mind to be

cordial anyway, and smiled at him. "Starscribe, actually. Ailura Starscribe. And yourself, sir?"

"Professor Severus Snape. Potions Master. Head of Slytherin House." The thin lips twisted in a smile that was almost a sneer. He seemed to be about to say something more, but she cut him off.

"Lovely to meet you, Professor Snape, I'm sure I will enjoy working with you." With that, she turned away from him and proceeded on down the table towards Dumbledore, who was beckoning her to a seat on his right side. She could sense Snape following her for a couple of paces, but pretended not to notice.

As she slid into the chair next to the Headmaster, he said softly "So you've met Snape."

She quirked the corner of her mouth. "Yes, apparently I have. He doesn't seem to like me very much."

"There are a number of students here who would take that as a compliment, Professor..." His eyes were twinkling again. "I don't believe Severus likes very many people. Don't let it bother you, at any rate. You won't likely be dealing with him very often."

Just then, the massive doors at the other end of the Great Hall opened, and a group of students walked in, deep in an animated conversation. They all seated themselves at the table second from the left and continued to talk. More students followed them, moving towards the other three tables as well. None of them paid any particular attention to the head table. That was fine with Ailura, who could then watch the students unselfconsciously.

Soon the tables were mostly full. The head table had only two empty seats, one to Dumbledore's left and one to Ailura's right. The question of whose they were was, however, immediately forgotten in the commotion caused by the arrival of a group of younger students, being marshalled into place by none other than Professor Snape. They all looked very nervous. Ailura decided they had to be first-years, but wasn't sure, since Snape was enough to make anyone nervous.

"Move along, now," called the wizard, waving them towards platform at the front of the room. He pushed through the crowd and went to stand beside the stool in the middle of the platform. Upon it was an ancient and battered wizard's hat. Ailura didn't know how old it might be, but guessed that it was older than anyone else in the room, by a long way. It was dirty, frayed, and patched, its once-dark black faded to a sort of grey. It didn't look like much. Still, the mere fact of its presence meant it had to be something special. Therefore, Ailura wasn't too terribly surprised when it started to sing cheerfully.

"Oh I am the famous Sorting Hat
Who sorted all your friends,
Your parents and your teachers,
It's a list that never ends.
I'll tell you of the houses whose
Great names you've heard before,
If you are brave you'll surely join
The folks in Gryffindor,
Ambition is the key if it's in
Slytherin you're placed,
And Ravenclaw's the spot for those
With brains behind their face.
The Hufflepuffs hold loyalty
The highest of the virtues,
No matter where you end up
Be assured that it won't hurt you,
I've been doing this for years now
And my record's very strong,
I simply look inside your mind
And see where you belong.
So come on, step right up to me
And put me on your head,
I'll find a spot for each of you
To go and sit instead."

The hat finished its tune and the students gave it a round of applause. Snape looked faintly disgusted for a moment, then pulled a piece of parchment from a pocket. "When I call your name, come up and put on the hat," he said, unrolling the parchment and scanning the names printed thereon. "Althwick, Cyrus."

A tall, gangly blond boy stepped up and took the Sorting Hat. He sat down on the stool, then placed it gingerly on his head. It slid down over his eyes. There was silence in the hall. Suddenly, the hat bellowed, "GRYFFINDOR!", making everyone jump. The table second from the left started to cheer, and everyone else applauded Cyrus Althwick as he took off the hat and went to join his new housemates. Snape cleared his throat impatiently and the room fell silent again. "Azeley, Karl," he called.

Karl Azeley was sorted into Ravenclaw. The process was repeated with all the rest of the students, all the way to "Zabini, Pascale", who became a Slytherin; the Gryffindors, particularly the older ones among them, were the loudest at welcoming the new students into their ranks. Nobody seemed to want to cheer for the Slytherins except the Slytherins. Ailura wondered why. Then she remembered that Snape was Head of Slytherin and did not wonder anymore.

Snape rolled up the parchment and tucked it into the pocket it had come from, then strode around the head table and sat down right beside Ailura. He appeared not to notice her presence, so she did likewise. A rather stern-looking witch with gingery-brown hair and emerald green robes had come in a few minutes earlier and taken the seat beside Dumbledore, so the head table was full. All the students and teachers seemed to be waiting for something. That was when Dumbledore stood up and addressed the audience.

"My friends, it is once again the beginning of a new term. We have much ahead of us, and I know your professors have been working very hard to prepare their lessons for you. I would say it promises to be a very interesting year. Now, there are more than just new lessons here at Hogwarts this year." He smiled. "We have two new professors. Professor Remus Lupin has kindly agreed to take on the Defence Against the Dark Arts classes."

A shabby-looking, pale-skinned man stood up at the far left end of the head table. Several students from the Gryffindor table were applauding, but the rest did not seem impressed. Ailura glanced down the head table to see if she could read any reactions on the professors' faces. Most seemed indifferent. Then she saw Snape.

He looked like a thundercloud. She could have sworn he was growling with fury under his breath, and he wasn't even fighting the curl of his lip, which exposed gleaming teeth like those of a dog about to bite. He wasn't just looking daggers at Lupin, he was looking two-handed, poison-bladed, enchanted broadswords.

Obviously, the two did not get along. Ailura sat back in her chair and continued to listen to Dumbledore.

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Down at the Gryffindor table, Oliver was feeling a bit more alert. All the clapping and cheering for the first-year Gryffindors had knocked the fuzz out of his brain. He was only half-listening to Dumbledore's speech when Fred Weasley poked him in the ribs.

"Oi, Olly, look at Snape!"

Oliver did, and could not remember ever having seen Snape look so angry, including the days Gryffindor's Quidditch team had flattened Slytherin. He supposed it must have something to do with the man who was just sitting down again, the new Defence teacher. His eyes returned to Dumbledore- or tried to. However, on the way there, they stalled at the woman sitting between Snape and the Headmaster, and got no further.

She looked about twenty-five, younger than anybody else at the head table. Her long blonde hair caught the candlelight and reflected it like burnished gold. Silvery-blue, slightly almond-shaped eyes twinkled with the same merriment he often saw in Dumbledore's eyes. Quirked in a half-smile at Snape's expense, her full red lips looked deliciously kissable. After the first blink, he realised that she was beautiful, and that he loved her.

There was a strange sort of buzz in his brain, but he couldn't imagine why. It was far too hot in the Hall. He wanted to loosen the collar of the shirt he wore beneath his robes, and wished he wasn't wearing a sweater as well. Seizing his goblet of icy-cold pumpkin juice, he drained it, hoping for relief. It did help. With an effort, he dragged his mind in the direction of his surroundings, though not quite back to them. It wouldn't go, just dug in its heels and refused to budge from the mysterious woman next to the Headmaster.

Everyone was clapping for some reason. He must have missed something important. He joined them, just so as not to look completely lost. Then the hall quieted and he heard Professor Dumbledore speak again.

"The second addition to our staff is the very talented Professor Ailura Starscribe, who will be teaching Hogwarts' new Wandless Magic course. This course is, in fact, a great experiment, as it's never been taught anywhere else either."

The woman stood up and smiled. Oliver's heart soared and sank at the same time. She had such a lovely smile... but she was a teacher. She had to be a teacher. Of all the things she could be... She would never be interested. He sighed deeply at the unfairness of life.

"What d'you think of that, Oliver?" asked George.

"Beautiful," he said softly.

George looked confused for a moment. Then his expression cleared. "Ah... I was speaking of the course... but you were speaking of the prof. Am I right?"

Oliver blushed slightly and looked down at his plate. Luckily he was saved from having to reply, as at that moment the food appeared and everyone, George included, started to reach for it.

He'd just have to get over it, that was all.

That was all. Yeah, right, he thought.

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Ailura acknowledged the applause of the crowd with a smile. Dumbledore wrapped up his usual short speech, and the food appeared on opulent serving platters before them. She helped herself. Meanwhile, she devoted some serious thought to the murmurs that had gone round the room when she had been introduced. Was it possible some of them recognised her name? She fervently hoped not. That was the last hassle she needed to deal with right now. It was enough to be going into a classroom with a bunch of wizard kids she'd never seen before, and trying to teach them something that she'd never taught before. It didn't help to remember that actually, no matter what she was to be teaching, she would never have taught it before.

The Ministry of Magic was already breathing down her neck about her course. If it was a success, she'd almost certainly be offered a Ministry job teaching Aurors. If it failed... but she put that thought resolutely out of her mind. Her career as a serious witch, judged only by her powers and knowledge, would be just fine if she could concentrate on her classes and do the best she could.

At least, she hoped so.