Dragon, Fire, Ebony

Torches sent shadows dancing across the walls, shifting and blending to form monsters of the wildest imaginations and darkest fairy tales. The hallway was completely windowless, with pictures of deceased and dreary headmasters lining the walls. Eerie, muffled singing in the background completed the spooky setting.

Adriana sat quietly on the stone bench, her legs neatly crossed under trim black robes and her hat slightly askew. No matter how hard she tried, her hat would never stay on properly. She supposed she must just have a big head.

Whether or not she had a big head, however, she certainly had big ears. She had woven a small sound enhancing charm on her purple headscarf just this morning, enabling her to hear the phoenix's song even through the thickly enchanted walls. She had always been particularly good at charms.

"She's eighteen, Headmaster, it's unheard of!" Adriana flinched as the stern, uncompromising voice penetrated her ears. "They won't respect her, they won't listen to her-"

"For once, I agree with my Gryffindor colleague," the second voice was drier, droller, but equally disapproving. "She's a year out of school... and she went to Beauxbatons! They don't even teach defense against the dark arts there, they teach cosmetic charms!"

A high pitched snort cut the voice off. "Now Severus, that's a bit of an exaggeration," the owner of the voice squeaked indignantly. "And cosmetic charms are quite challenging."

"The point is, headmaster, as heads of three of the houses we've spoken and we all agree that it would be more prudent to hire somebody else for the position," The first voice spoke again, her raspy tone clearly sick of diversions and ready to get to the point of the conversation.

"I completely agree." Adriana gasped as she recognized the voice of the man she thought would be her employer. Her stomach clenched as the feeling of betrayal settled around her. Dumbledore had asked her to take the teaching position, not the other way around. He could have at least notified her that he had changed his mind before he called her all the way up to Hogwarts.

"She is young, she will have a hard time gaining the respect of her students, and she has had limited actual experience." Adriana felt her heart sink with every word. The truth, truth that she could hardly admit to herself, was that she wanted this job. She needed this job, too, but she wanted it even more. "That said, she did graduate first in class with no less then twelve owls, she has spent six months doing research at Stonehenge with an extremely prominent professor in the field of dark potions and her experiences in Switzerland over the past year, although they could be considered narrow in scope, are quite impressive. If you can think of any wizards that would be more qualified for the position, I'm open to suggestions."

The witch in the hallway leaned heavily against the stone wall as silence settled in on the other side. She felt bad about doubting the headmaster, but she knew that if it happened all over again she'd probably feel exactly the same resentment and betrayal.

"Adonis D'Mas." Adriana sat bolt upright at the name, hitting her head on the torch above her in the process. She cursed softly.

"I'm sorry, Minerva, I didn't catch that," Dumbledore's voice said graciously. "Was that a suggestion?"

"Adonis D'Mas," the stern voice said more clearly this time, if grudgingly. "I know we've already hired him as the Care of Magical Creatures teacher, but to be perfectly frank that class isn't quite as important as Defense against Dark Arts. And he's spent more than one year working in the Department of Mysteries." Adriana felt the disdainful snipe like a physical blow and wondered bitterly how many years any of them had spent working at the Department of Mysteries.

"He refused to take the position," Dumbledore responded easily. "Sir D'Mas specifically applied for the Magical Creatures position, and he was the most qualified candidate so he was hired. Would you like to dispute that decision too?"

Silence settled on the other side of the wall once more. Adriana held her breathe, praying that the argument was at last over and her position was secured.

"Now, Ms. Goldwood, would you come in here please?" Adriana jumped and hit her head on the torch for the second time that day. She sighed, deciding she should have known better than to try and listen through the headmaster's walls. But why had he let her listen for so long?

She stood up and found a large gargoyle leering at her, mocking her with his stony presence. "Open?" She guessed aloud.

A chuckle came through her earmuffs. "I'm sorry, Ms. Goldwood, the password is Honey Bean."

"Honey Bean," Adriana repeated, feeling ridiculous uttering these words aloud with only a gargoyle and her employer to hear. The stones before her shuffled around, grating against her ears as they molded themselves to form a slightly crooked door. She straightened her back and opened the door.

The three teachers watched her as she came in quietly and shut the door softly behind her. She looked much older than eighteen, in fact, with her conservative robes and carefully blank visage. She was short, the shortest person in the room excepting of course Professor Flitwick, with small pointed ears that indicated she probably had elfblood running through her veins. Her simple black robes hung loosely over her small frame, a ridiculously tall hat flopping over her head slightly. Her hair was entirely covered up by a thin purple head wrap.

Adriana ignored the three teachers and looked Dumbledore directly in the eyes. "I'm sorry, Headmaster," she said after a few moments of silence. She didn't offer an excuse.

"Quite the contrary." The Headmaster's eyes twinkled. "You've proved you're ability to overcome inhospitable spells through the use of a simple charm, getting around the spell of the walls without breaking it. Quite impressive." He looked at the three teachers, thin eyebrows raised.

"An enhancing charm! Of course!" The charms teacher looked positively delighted. "How did you manage to embed it in the scarf? Very intriguing, I never thought of it myself. Is it permanent, or something that you have to constantly reenchant? Can you do it with other charms? This really is quite fascinating!"

Adriana tried not to laugh at her enthusiastic colleague. All three teachers waited expectantly for her answer, two with their arms crossed and their foreheads wrinkled. Adriana swallowed hard.

"I wove the charm into the scarf with a transformed needle," the young teacher explained nervously. "It can be done with any charm whose effect comes simply from it's presence, such as a cheering charm, so that all the clothe does is give it a more solid and continuous presence. It wouldn't work, for example, with a summoning charm." Adriana paused for a moment and thought about her last statement. "Actually it would, in theory, but the strength of the charm would be divided equally between every single object in it's range so in the end even the most powerfully charmed object would have almost no effect." She smiled, remember a certain charms report she had done back in her sixth year that had resulted in the rearrangement of the furniture in her dormitory, much to her roommates disgust. "As for reapplication, the more strength you put in to charm the longer it lasts, but on average they need to be rewoven every five or so years. Also, certain materials and types of stitches tend to work better with certain charms and make them last longer, even if the strength of the spell is the same."

Professor Flitwick's enchanted quill was furiously scribbling her words down on the corner of his robe. Snape still watched her through narrowed eyes, but Professor McGonagall decided it was her turn to begin her own inquisition.

"You said transfigured needle," she said, her voice testing. "What was it transfigured from?"

"A binding potion," Adriana replied readily. "Obviously an ordinary needle wouldn't be able to thread through the insubstantial quality of a charm, but if you partially transfigure a binding potion so that it only takes on shape of a needle but retains the magical attributes of the potion, it will tie the charm to the fabric." They all turned to Professor Snape and waited for him to begin his own interrogation about the qualities of a binding potion. He opened his mouth to begin.

"Where did you learn how to sew?" He asked, his scratchy voice thick with incredulity.

The room erupted into quiet chuckles.

"Now that we've established that Ms. Goldwood is perfectly qualified to take over all of your jobs," Professor Dumbledore began slightly less benignly than usual, "Perhaps you would like to ask her about her qualifications for the job she was hired for and convince yourselves that she will make a perfectly good teacher." There was a slight edge to his voice that indicated he might have been more insulted than he let on about his judgment being questioned by his three closest friends.

The three teachers turned to Adriana expectantly, their arms still crossed but their faces slightly less patronizing. She tried to calm the butterflies in her stomach before beginning.

"I did graduate top of my class at Beauxbatons," she started, nodding towards Dumbledore. "I was first in dark arts, first in potions, second in transfiguration, fifth in astronomy, fourth in Herbology, first in dueling, fifth in history of magic, first in fencing and second in art." She paused for breath, hating herself for being able to rattle off each and ever class rank like that.

"So basically you were top of you're class because you could draw and wave pointy sticks at people," Snape commented sarcastically, his black eyes glittering humorlessly.

"That's one way of looking at it, yes." Adriana glared right back before continuing in her best professional voice. " As I'm sure you know, at Beauxbatons we spend our sixth year off campus in various study programs. I spent the first half of my sixth year working with Professor Cabby-Patch at Stonehenge University. He had an Apollo in Dark Potions and was working on developing an antidote to the Cruisandromeda Potion, so I assisted him with research and experiment reports and potion-making. It was an extremely interesting and rewarding experience, especially as a student because I got to witness and participate in the brewing of higher level potions, as well as gaining a fuller understanding of the effects each ingredient could have by itself and in a mixture." Adriana's eyes shone as she described several of the potions they had concocted, her voice losing itself in her excitement. Despite himself, Snape found himself nodding.

"I spent the second half of my sixth year in New York City with the English Embassy. I met a lot of fascinating people, both at the embassy and in the American Parliament, as well as learning about diplomacy between countries and the different systems of governments."

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but how exactly does this pertain to defense against dark arts?" McGonagall's voice was sharp and disapproving.

"Well, as I'm sure you all know better than anybody, that was before most of the European Ministries, including Scotland's, officially admitted the rise of you-know-who." There had been a time when Adriana would have just said his name, but she had learned to be cautious about who she said it in front of. "I learned that all the spells and charms in the world aren't going to work if nobody's willing... or allowed... to perform them. The people I worked with..." her voice trailed off and a ridiculous smile grew on her face as her green eyes stared into the past. "They had this amazing ability to rally wizards of a different country in a battle their own country wouldn't admit the existence of." Her gaze focused back on her jury. "I learned not only the more subtle spells to fight dark arts, but also the diplomacy to convince people to use them." McGonagall's thin lips curved into the barest hint of a smile and she nodded, just once. Adriana had to force herself not to burst into a victory dance.

"What have you been doing since you left school?" Flitwick looked up at her, a rare occurrence in her short life. "I believe Dumbledore mentioned something about the Department of Mysteries?" His high pitched voice wasn't short or judgmental, just curious. His wide eyes twinkled.

Adriana nodded. "During the middle of my seventh year France finally caved into growing pressures from the press, the Americas, and most Asian countries, and admitted the existence of Voldemort." Adriana quickly pursed her lips together, furious that she had let that escape. Nobody in the room seemed to notice. "Scotland was among the countries to quickly follow France's declaration. They had in fact already had several counter-measures in process, including the diplomatic assignment I was privileged enough to be a part of, but bringing everything out in the open allowed the ministry to start new programs without having to find loop-holes in the law for the allocation of funds. Obviously most of the security measures still aren't public, just enough to make wizards feel like their government is doing something." Adriana realized she was getting sidetracked into politics. For all she had only been fifth in history of magic, she had always loved it. "Anyhow, because of my previous internship the ministry contacted me shortly after the press release to see if I wanted to join the international team that was sweeping the Swiss Alps for signs of the Dark activity. There had been reportings of strange occurrences around there, and we were sent into investigate along with ministry representatives from the thirteen other countries in the newly formed Countries Against Voldemort's Existence." Adriana smiled apologetically. "I'm actually not really allowed to talk about it more than that, except that the entire mission was not unsuccessful."

Snape snorted. "I suppose it doesn't help matters that Fudge still refuses to join CAVE." Professor McGonagall pursed her lips together and Professor Flitwick gave an indignant squeak. It seemed that Adriana's lack of qualifications was not the only thing the three head's agreed about.

Professor McGonagall turned to Dumbledore, her face sufficiently apologetic although her lips remained thin. "She does seem fairly well prepared for job, and I'm sorry to have questioned you're judgment on the matter." Snape and Flitwick mumbled agreement.

"Oh, that's quite fine, Minerva. After all, what are friends for but to keep people on the very tips of their toes?" His beard twitched contentedly."And I will be the first to admit, her age is a concern. But I feel that her qualifications outweigh this particular disadvantage." Adriana could only hope she hadn't rolled her eyes in the midst of this, a habit of hers when she found something particularly ironic or annoying.

Fortunately even if she had, nobody seemed to notice. Adriana was beginning to feel more than slightly invisible. She wondered how they would react if she performed an invisibility charm right now. One thing she would never be was poor, because when everything else failed she could always make and sell invisibility cloaks. Invisibility cloaks weren't expensive because of the nature of the magic involved, but because of the need for delicate stitching between the silk and the charm if the cloak was going to last for at least a hundred years. Very few wizards had any idea how to sew.

"Very well, Ms. Goldwood, you seem to have passed my colleagues' tests." Dumbledore smiled kindly at her. "You may go get settled in you're rooms, if you wish." It was a dismissal, albeit a very subtle one. Adriana gave a quick curtsy before turning to leave and closing the door softly behind her. The last thing she heard through her enhanced head wrap as she walked quickly down the corridor was Professor McGonagall wondering why they didn't require bows and curtsies from Hogwarts students.

The sky hung a heavy grey over the buildings as two boys walked down a colorful, narrow street, not noticing or completely ignoring the looks the entire crowd sent their way as they lost themselves in a completely normal activity for teenage boys: singing. The first boy's voice was a deep baritone, a heavy kind of voice you wouldn't expect out of someone so tall and skinny who could still pass for twelve or twenty two, depending on what he was wearing and how well he'd managed to flatten his dark hair on that particular day. His companion, a shorter, more muscular but still quite scrawny red head, sang in a light tenor that broke on the low notes. They sang with complete disregard for everything harmonious and enjoyable; their other best friend had once compared their musical talent to Snape's ability to do the Charleston (they had seen him try once, actually, in an experience they tried desperately to forget).

"My name is Francis Tolliver, in Liverpool I dwell," Harry sang, his voice still hoarse from the blueberry and toffee ice cream he had just eaten. His green eyes roved abstractedly around the shops that towered around them, looking for the sign for the new fencing store they had read about in the Daily Prophet. Owls fluttered over their heads in herds, delivering the morning post to the various shops as wizards began to flip the Closed sign to Open with a flip of their wand.

"Two years ago the war was waiting for me after school," Ron followed, trying to sound mellow and somber but lacking the deep voice and general musical ability that would make his voice sound like anything other than tv static.

"We should really switch parts there, shouldn't we?" Harry asked, not looking at his best friend.

"Most definitely," Ron agreed, keeping his gaze straight ahead. Even a complete stranger watching them, as many happened to be at that particular moment and during many others, could easily guess how long they'd been friends by their easy banter and complete lack of embarrassment about their singing.

"Fencing Fetish," Harry commented, stopping in his tracks on the dusty cobblestones.

"Hmm?" Ron asked, still glancing through the copy of Witch Weekly they had picked up at the newsstand. He looked up. "Fencing Fetish," he agreed. They stood together in the middle of the street for several minutes, just looking at the bold orange and purple striped sign with swords crossed over the front. Without a word or a look passing between them, they simultaneously started walking again and pushed through the saloon style door into the shop.

The room they stepped into somehow managed to be immaculate and messy at the same time. Not a speck of dust or disorder was to be seen, but something about the shop, the layers of swords, or the rows of carpets, seemed like it was dissolving to chaos before their very eyes. Dim globes lit the stone walls in most pathetic luminance to take on the name of light.

"Nice," Ron exclaimed, his enthusiasm getting the better of him as he picked up one of the sabers and tossed it up lightly in his hands, trying to look like a professional judging it's weight and balance. The blade cut into his left palm on its journey down and four drops of blood fell onto the oriental carpet.

"Why don't I just take that," a light, disdainful Southern drawl came up behind Ron and plucked the blade out of his hand.

"Hey!" The seventeen year old turned huffily, looking at the blade like it was new toy his mother had just taken away in punishment. "I was looking at that!"

"And I happen to own that," the store owner turned with a swish that would have flipped his ponytail, if he had had one. "Now, I know you two probably aren't old enough to read, but the picture over there should be a sufficient enough of a sign," the man told them, his voice bordering on prissy. Ron and Harry turned to look at the sign he indicated, a large azure blue sign with loud purple letters reading "No children" and moving drawing of a large boot kicking a child out the door over and over again. Harry blinked.

"Um, sir, we have letters from Hogwarts that give us permission to purchase foils for the new fencing club," Harry explained, pulling out the familiar parchment with green ink. The shop keeper looked at it, eyebrows raised.

"Well, fine then." The man's drawl seemed to become more Southern the more upset he became. "Would you like the Arthur Foil or the Hector foil?"

"Hector of Troy?" Ron asked, his nose scrunching up in curiosity.

"Well what other Hector is there?" His voice was indignant as he went over the shelf behind the register and pulled out a flimsy looking piece of metal.

"Hector fenced?" Harry asked, equally intrigued as he followed the shopkeeper to the counter.

"Everybody fenced," the shopkeeper rolled his eyes. "Now, is this satisfactory enough for you to leave?" Harry looked down at the foil the shopkeeper presented to him before realizing he had absolutely know idea what characteristics he should be judging.

"Why don't you tell me whether or not this is a good foil," Harry challenged the owner, meeting his eyes. The man's nostril's flared just the slightest bit and his expression became, if possible, even more indignant.

"Well-" he began, before the bell attached to the shop door rang and a swishing black robe burst in.

"Harry! Ron!" Hermione dashed in and threw her arms around Ron first, then Harry. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming today? We could have gone together." She looked at them in the same scolding manner a mother duck looks at her ducklings. Both boys shifted uneasily under her gaze. Harry threw a sidelong glance at Ron, knowing exactly why they hadn't told Hermione and checking with Ron just to make sure he really couldn't tell their best friend the truth. Ron threw a sidelong glare back at him.

"Last minute planning," Harry told her, hating himself. "Are you joining the fencing club too?"

Hermione nodded, her eyes lighting up to match the bright blue of the shirt she wore underneath her robes. "I took fencing lessons for two years before I went to Hogwarts," she explained. "I always wanted to start it again, but I never had time."

Harry and Ron exchanged looks again, but this time they were light and amused. "Is there anything you haven't done?" Ron asked, his voice more raspy than usual. Hermione didn't notice.

"No," she told them, after a moments thought. She placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and stood on the very tips of her toes to look over him to the blades. "Mr. Eathen, you don't mean to sell them those, do you?" The shop keeper, whose name was apparently Mr. Eathen, rolled his eyes and shook his head meekly.

"No," he mumbled, producing another pair of foils. Neither Harry nor Ron could tell the difference between the first pair or the second, but Hermione nodded her head in approval and took them, handing one to each of her friends. "I already got mine," she answered their questioning looks. "I just saw you two sneaking around in here, or I wouldn't have come in." Her voice was playfully chiding, but questioning all the same. Both boys turned away every so slightly, and Hermione gave in.

"Well, let's go then." She gave an exasperated sigh and grabbed each of their hands, giving them barely enough time to toss the coins on the counter before they were dragged out of the store.

"What else do you need to get?" Hermione asked them, striding through alley as her friends walked meekly behind her. The street was much more crowded now, filled with colorful robes and cloaks swinging together in the morning breeze. Harry pulled out the list he had crumpled in his pocket and smoothed it across his coat.

The Standard Book of Spells Grade 7 by Miranda Goshawk

Dark Defense by Red Cabby-Patch

Two Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Rose Spore

On Your Own: The Complete Wizards Guide to Cooking, Cleaning, and Having Children by Buzi Bunney

Modern World: The Idiot's Guide to Analyzing the Sociopolitical Standards of the World He Lives In by Imsma Terdanou

Ron peered over his shoulder. "Oh, you're taking that Contemporary History seminar?" He asked, looking at the last book on the list. "I figured Professor Binns would be teaching it so I picked that creating moral relationships with Muggles course." Ron wrinkled his nose. "Dad was so proud."

"Neither one of you picked Magikisis and Amalculus?" Hermione asked incredulously, shock and disappointment etched across her face.

"Hermione, I don't even know what those words mean," Harry told her, running a hand through his messy hair.

"That's what you take the class for," she told him archly, rolling her eyes. "Really, the two of you..." he voice trailed off. They weren't sure whether or not her tone indicated mock disappointment or real.

"Two sickles Hermione's the only one in the class," Ron said, pulling out his own reading list.

Harry shook his head. "You're probably right," he admitted, grinning as Hermione glared at both of them. She couldn't keep a scowl on her face for long, particularly not with reading lists and book shops around. She snatched Ron's list out of his hands.

"Let's see... read this... read this... oh, The Arithmancy of Agrarian Magic, good book... Ron!" Hermione looked up, her face bright red. "What is Gothic Passion doing on you're reading list?"

"Huh?" Ron pulled the list back, his own face turning as red as his hair. "Umm...?" His eyes darted around in disbelief. "What class is this for?"

Harry peered over Ron's shoulder. "What types of relationships with Muggles are they teaching you about?"

"They carry this in Flourish and Blotts?" A familiar voice laced with familiar disbelief strode past them, bent over a familiar sheet. Ron hurried after her.

"You got this two?" He asked Parvati, eyes wide. "I thought it was a practical joke." Lavender, next to Parvati and looking flawless in light blue robes and a white cloak, giggled.

Parvati sent an exasperated look at her friend and turned back to Ron. "She hasn't stopped that since we got our reading lists," she told him, rolling her eyes. "We thought is was a practical joke, too, but we owled Dean and Dean owled Seamus and Seamus, of course, being Seamus actually owled the school, and found out it wasn't a practical joke it is actually on the reading list." Parvati didn't speak as quickly as she usually did and her words almost made sense, even if they weren't entirely grammatically correct. Ron took a second to digest the sentence before nodding.

"Must be punishment for everyone trying to take the slacker seminar," he mumbled, whispering obscenities. He looked absolutely disgusted. "Yes, let's all discuss hot, steamy sex with Professor McGonagall." Ron shivered, realizing what he had just said. Lavender laughed even louder.

"Tell me I didn't just use the words "hot steamy sex" and "McGonagall" in the same sentence," Ron moaned, pushing open the door to Flourish and Blotts. Harry and Hermione exchanged sympathetic glances and followed him in.

The store was almost empty, only a few first and second years gawking eagerly over the new books they would have to spend the next nine months looking at. Harry and Ron looked at them pityingly, knowing what the next seven years would hold for them. Hermione had already disappeared with in the rows of shelves, a look of peace settling over her face as she gazed at the books around her.

"So Flourish and Blotts has a romance section," Ron mused, heading towards the back of the store. "Who would have guessed?" Harry could feel his face getting steadily redder with each step towards the bright pink shelf shoved in the corner. He guessed it wasn't something the shopkeeper was proud of.

Sure enough, Gothic Passion was the only book on the entire shelf. Ron picked up a copy and stared at the back cover, his ears turning pink. "I guess I can't switch out, can I?" He asked looking up, his tone resigned. He shoved it in the bottom of his bag and closed it hurriedly, glancing around to make sure no one had seen.

"Let's get away from here," he whispered to Harry, as though afraid that the books would jump out and bite them if they made any sudden movements. His paranoia wasn't entirely unwarranted, however, as that had happened in the past. Harry and Ron began to tip-toe away.

"This is not possible," a soft voice behind them moaned in a light Scottish accent. The two boys froze and turned slowly around. "No no no, definitely not possible." The witch behind them could have been as much as a foot shorter then them and was currently stooped over a copy of the very same book that had been hidden in Ron's bag. She looked like she was about to cry.

"Are you a student at Hogwarts?" Harry asked, curiosity getting the better of him. She wore an odd blue head scarf that covered most of her head, shielding her face.

She looked up at them, her forehead creased in surprise before relaxing in understanding.

"Oh, no," she sighed, explaining. Her green eyes looked tired. "I have to... teach... this." She held the book as far out from her as possible, looking at it the exact same way Ron had two moments earlier.

"To who?" Ron asked, his eyes widening in fascinated shock.

"To you, apparently," she told them dryly. "Oh dear Merlin." She shook her head sadly at the book one last time, then tucked it under her arm. "Adriana... oh, Professor, I guess... Goldwood," she said with a smile, extending her hand. Ron looked at it for several moments, still in shock as everything he thought he knew about his school just flipped upside down.

Finally he took it, shaking slightly as he did. "Ronald Weasley," he told her with a quivering smile. Harry extended his own hand.

"Harry Potter." Professor Goldwood gave them each a quick smile before turning to leave. Both boys titled their heads to the left, watching her leave with equivalent looks of disbelief etched on their faces.

"How old did she say she was?" Harry asked finally, his head still hanging over his shoulder.

"She didn't," Ron told him. He jerked his head back up. "You know, you think you know a place, and then they assign you romance novels and twelve year old teachers." He shook his head sadly. "Whatever happened to the traditional magic school?"

Harry just shrugged.