Secrets

Secrets

We dance around in a ring and suppose, but the Secret sits in the middle and knows.

Robert Frost

Chapter 1

The Great Hall at Hogwarts was swarming with be-robed students and teachers on their first day back at school. The four house tables were crowded with black clad teenagers waiting for the traditional sorting of the new first-years into their new houses. All four House colours adorned the walls of the Great Hall in the guise of enormous banners sporting the House crests. Hundreds of lit candles floated overhead and the enchanted ceiling above them reflected the starlit autumn sky outside.

The teachers all sat at the high table, in their usual seats: Headmaster Dumbledore in the middle of the table, looking impressive in his dark, sanguine robes and long white hair and beard; tiny little Professor Flitwick on his left side, and Professor Snape in his usual austere black robes next to him; Professors Sinistra and Binns on Dumbledor's right and the enormous, giant of a man, Hagrid, at the end of the table. There were two chairs sitting empty, however. The chair on the Headmaster's immediate right, usually occupied by Professor McGonagall, and the chair on Professor Snape's immediate left. It wasn't long before Professor McGonagall entered the Hall, followed by the excited and rather nervous group of new first-years. The sorting was about to begin. And still, the chair next to Professor Snape remained empty. There were whispers already starting to fly around the Hall. This wasn't usual at all. All teachers were always present at the sorting, but one of them was still missing. Educated guesses led to the conclusion that the missing teacher was the new Defense against the Dart Arts professor. None of the previous teachers seemed to have been able to hold that position for more than one year at a time. Professor Snape's more than usual sour expression served as evidence that whoever was to fill that seat would be holding the Defence against the Dark Arts position in the school. It was common knowledge that he had been after that position for years but could never quite get his hands on it. Instead, he had been, and still was the Potions Master of the School.

The first eleven-year old boy was now sitting on the traditional three-legged stool and Professor McGonagall in emerald green, her expression strict but not unkind, was setting the sorting hat on its head.

'Slytherin,' the hat cried and the Slytherin table erupted in loud applause as the boy made its way towards them and sat down in an empty seat.

'Gryffindor,' came the next cry, and then Hufflepuf, Hufflepuf again, then Ravenclaw. It went on like this for several minutes, the hat taking less time for some students, much longer for others. Eventually, all the new first-years were sorted and the hat and stool were taken away, and Professor McGonagall took her usual place at Professor Dumbledore's right-hand side. The Headmaster stood up to address the school, as he always did before the start of the usual, beginning of term feast; and still the one chair remained empty. He opened his mouth, but didn't manage to speak, because at that precise moment, the doors of the Great Hall creaked open and someone walked in. Dumbledore's face brightened with a wide, welcoming smile as he squinted at the distant figure over the top of his half-moon glasses.

'Perfect timing,' he said, apparently addressing the school and solitary figure that had just walked in all in one. 'I'm so glad you made it my dear,' he continued. 'You're just in time. I was about to introduce you, even in your absence.' Several hundred surprised teenaged heads turned to follow the figure as it approached the high table. It wore a black velvet looking cloak that billowed elegantly behind it. The cloak's hood covered the figure's head so it was impossible to see its face. The light from the hundreds of floating candles in the Hall caught the cloak's flowing folds and suddenly no one was sure exactly what its colour was anymore. It still looked sort of black, but every now then, depending on how the light fell on it, its sheen seemed to change. At first it acquired a dark greenish shine, and then that turned to purple, which in turn suddenly looked a bit silvery, but still, in the end, one could call it nothing but black. By this time the figure had reached the foot of the high table. It stopped, pulled its cowl from its head and a cascade of dark hair tumbled out of it, falling all the way down to the figure's waist. For a moment her hair looked about as black as her robes; as she moved her head, however, her fluid curls caught the light of the candles, and suddenly they shimmered auburn. Some of the students gasped softly, others 'oooohed' and 'aaaahed'. The figure raised its head to look at Dumbledore and everyone was surprised to see Snape's expression change, for a second, from his usual sour cynicism, to something approaching amazement, or as close as anyone could imagine he would look if anything ever managed to amaze him.

'It's so nice to see you again Albus,' a soft, feminine voice said, as the figure looked up the Headmaster.

'Why don't you come up here and join us,' Dumbledore said warmly, 'and I'll introduce you to everybody.' The woman inclined her head and, turning, went up the few steps that led to her seat. To everyone's utter amazement, Professor Snape's eyes narrowed strangely and never left her as she travelled this small distance. He only looked away once she had reached her chair standing next to his own. He looked, coldly, straight in front of him, as she pulled the chair back and sat down. As she turned to face the Hall for the first time, everyone immediately realised what it must have been that had given Snape his unusual expression.

Whatever one might have been able to say about the school's staff -everyone was fair (except Snape), most of them were kind (except Snape), most of them were competent (including Snape, but excluding Professor Trelawney) -none of them however would have won any awards on looks; at least not until now.

The woman sitting next to Snape was, first of all, much younger than any other of the teachers at the table. She looked to be in her late twenties, maybe, with a stretch of the imagination, in her early thirties; and she was strangely impressive. Her face had strong dark features, beautifully shaped eyebrows, enormous dark-grey eyes and perfect lips: not too full, not to thin, but beautifully sculptured. Beneath her cloak she wore robes that seemed to have been made of the same material as the cloak itself. You could only call them black, but they weren't really black. They changed again, from green, to purple to silvery grey. She smiled at them and the entire Hall fell silent. Professor Dumbledore opened his mouth again.

'I'd like to introduce you all to our new staff member, Professor Iris Raveneye. She will be taking on a new subject that we will start teaching from this year at Hogwarts, namely, Invocation-Evocation.'

Snape's head snapped around to stare at Dumbledore. It looked as if he was just as surprised as all of the students were. The rest of the teachers seemed perfectly composed and thoroughly un-surprised. Snape's eyes narrowed again, as he immediately began suspecting that the rest of the staff had conspired to keep him ignorant of this -and he was right.

So who was going to be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts then, the students started to wonder, as apparently, did Snape. Dumbledore continued talking very quickly, however.

'This subject will only be available to fifth-years and above, however, so don't all rush to sign-up. It will be an elective subject, so Prof. Raveneye will hopefully also have enough time to offer us some help on the subject of Defence Against the Dark Arts.'

Prof. Raveneye inclined her head politely, and Snape's face turned very sour once again, extremely quickly.

'However,' the Headmaster continued suddenly, with an unmistakable amused smile just playing at the corner of his mouth, 'Defence Against the Dark Arts is a subject that is taught throughout all seven years, so it is inevitably burdened with quite a heavy workload. As this is the case, Prof. Ravenclaw asked me if she could share the subject with one more member of our staff, to which, of course, I agreed wholeheartedly. She requested that it be shared with Prof. Snape...' Dumbledore's voice trailed off in slightly overdone innocence, as he turned to look at Snape, '...if that's alright with you, of course, Severus,' he added.

Snape sat there looking at Dumbledore with a thunderstruck expression on his face, which made a large number of his less favourite students snigger in amusement. He collected himself quickly, however, and was back to his old, cold self as quickly as you could say Defence Against the Dark Arts.

'Yes. I don't see it will be a problem,' he said smoothly.

'Excellent,' Dumbledore exclaimed. 'So you will work out the details with Prof. Raveneye and will let me know about it in due course...'

'Of course, Headmaster,' Snape said silkily, and Dumbledore turned back to the assembled students.

'These were the announcements for today, so, let the feast begin!' he cried and the golden plates and goblets in front of everyone suddenly filled with food and drink.

'I hope you don't mind,' Prof. Raveneye said quietly, in a tone of voice that indicated she didn't really care whether he minded or not, as she delicately picked at her food with her fork.

Snape didn't answer immediately. He was still contemplating whether he should feel insulted that the only way he could get his hands on this job was by sharing it with another teacher (who had had to ask specifically for him in the first place), or whether he should feel pleased that someone at least had recognised the fact that he was the man for the job.

'I'm sure I will cope,' he said quietly in the end, settling for non-committal. Out of the corner of his eye, however, he could see Prof. Raveneye's handsome face, and the barely controlled smirk of amusement that flickered over her lips -and he found himself forgetting about the smirk, and only being able to think about her lips -until he almost forcibly made himself snap out of it and realise that she was finding this amusing. The realisation was enough to bring his usual dour self to the surface again, with renewed zeal. He decided that he was insulted after all and his piercing dark eyes didn't wander in her direction again all evening.

*

'What can I do for you?' Snape asked, with the slightest of sneers just audible in his voice as Prof. Raveneye walked into his office that same night after the feast had finished.

'I believe we need to decide which years each of us is going to be teaching,' she replied coolly, yet without the slightest hint of sarcasm in her voice.

'Of course...' he said, leaning back in his chair, steepling his fingers and looking up at her for the first time, his pale, rather drawn face framed by hair that fell down to just under his jaw line and had the colour of good quality ink: It was black; utterly black, not dark brown approaching black, not even the kind of black that is so dark it gives the impression of blue. It was simply black; exactly like his eyes. The edge in his voice was still there, as he continued after a couple of moments. 'Presumably you'll want the last three years...' he said sourly, letting the sentence drift off.

'You presume a lot,' she answered, her immaculate eyebrows rising slightly. 'I would rather have the younger ones, in fact,' she continued after a short but meaningful pause. Snape didn't so much as blink. He just sat there, his sharp, calculating eyes appraising her for a few moments. For a moment, he looked as if he was going to ask her something, but the moment was gone as quickly as it had arisen.

'Fine,' he said instead, leaning back down over his desk and picking up his quill again. 'Now, if there isn't anything else, Prof. Raveneye...'

'Actually, there's just one more thing,' she said, surprising him. 'I'd ask you to please call me Iris. I don't care for titles much...' she added, shooting him a magnificent smile, turning elegantly on her heal and heading for the door again. 'Goodnight Professor Snape,' she added just before she disappeared, leaving the dungeon that served as his office feeling substantially emptier than it had just a few short moments ago. He shut the sensation out of his mind, however, and continued writing calmly, his quill producing the only other audible noise in the dungeon besides the sound of his own breathing.

*

The students in the classroom she walked into were laughing, chatting amongst themselves and being generally unruly, much as you'd expect a class of fifteen-year olds to be. A hushed silence descended over them all very quickly, however, as soon as the first ones noticed she was there.

'Good morning,' she said coolly to them as she walked over to her desk and turned to stand in front of it facing them. She took a moment to look around at the young faces, all looking at her with overt curiosity, some of them with something a bit more than that; the latter ones all belonging to boys, she quickly noticed. She suppressed an urge to smirk, and let her eyes rest on a dark-haired boy with glasses, sitting between a bushy haired girl and a tall, lanky boy with possibly the reddest hair she had ever seen. 'Harry Potter', she made a mental note, but didn't let her eyes linger on him too long. She picked up the register and started reading out their names. After all had declared themselves present, she set the register back down on her desk and, turning to face them once more, folded her arms across her chest.

'Right,' she declared. 'This class, as you all should know since you have chosen to attend it, will be instructing you in the arts of Invocation and Evocation. These are not techniques to be attempted lightly, which is the reason the subject is only being offered to fifth-years and above. We will start with a lot of theory, I'm afraid, so don't get your hopes up too high about conjuring up Gods and Demons any time soon.' A distinctly audible groan rippled across the classroom, as she had expected.

'In fact,' she continued as if she hadn't heard them, 'I wouldn't be expecting anything too spectacular to happen during this year at all, unless for some inexplicable reason some of you in here turn out to be exceptionally talented.' She looked around at them coolly for a moment, giving them time for the news to sink in. Her eyes fell on a thin, white-blond boy sitting near the back, between two enormous looking fifteen-year olds. They had their heads bowed and were obviously sniggering.

'Mister Malfoy, would you care to share with the rest of the class the reason for your amusement?' she said dryly. The boy's head immediately snapped up, a look of surprised shock registering on his features. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Harry Potter group lean forward in a futile attempt to hide their faces as they chortled silently.

'Er...' Malfoy began in vain, but she quickly interrupted him.

'If you fail to see the seriousness of this subject, I suggest you refer to your Head of House for information on how to drop it and pick a more appropriate one. May I suggest Muggle Studies...' she let her voice trail off meaningfully, while Malfoy's face turned a peculiar shade of purple.

'My father will hear about this,' the boy spluttered through almost incoherent fury.

'Yes, Mister Malfoy, I'm sure he will,' she continued in precisely the same cold tone and without so much as batting an eyelid. 'And twenty points off Slytherin for your insolence.' She glared at him coldly, daring him to retort. The boy turned even redder, if that was at all possible, and she could see him trembling with rage now. He opened his mouth to speak.

'Twenty five points, Mister Malfoy,' she cut him short. 'And one more word out of you will make it thirty.' The boy clamped his mouth shut and just sat there, shaking. Satisfied that he wasn't going to so much as breathe another word in the near future, she turned to look at the three teenagers in front of her, still trying unsuccessfully to stifle their laughter.

'And five points off Gryffindor for continuing to find this amusing,' she added unexpectedly. The sniggering stopped abruptly. The red-haired boy opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it when he saw her face.

She looked around at the class meaningfully before continuing.

'Now, if it has finally become clear to you all that this is no laughing matter, we shall continue,' she said, and turned to write on the blackboard. This was the test, she knew. If they kept quiet while her back was turned, she had got through to them. Complete and absolute silence greeted her back as she picked up a piece of chalk and began writing on the board.

'I don't believe this,' Ron whispered to Harry as they hurried out of the classroom once the bell had rung. 'Who said looks weren't deceptive? As if one of them wasn't enough? She's a female Snape! If she looked any different I'd be prepared to wager she was his long lost twin, or something! And I thought McGonagall was scary!'

'At least she's not picking on Gryffindor,' Harry murmured resignedly. 'And now we know why she picked Snape to share Defence against the Dark Arts with!'

'She's strict, I grant you that,' Hermione cut in, 'but I tell you, she knows what she's doing. And she's SO cool!' she added with a sigh that translated into 'I wish I was like that'. Ron and Harry stared at her in slightly disgusted disbelief.

'I can't believe you just said that,' Ron said as they disappeared down the corridor.

'Oh, come off it Ron! Did you see her hair?' Hermione continued in a veritable trance. 'It was all wavy, and glossy, and it sort of... cascaded down her back!'

'You were looking at her hair!' Harry exclaimed unable to believe what he was hearing.

'-Why isn't my hair like that?' Hermione interrupted him with another sigh.

'-Why isn't your entire face like hers, is what you mean!' Ron jibed wickedly.

Hermione shot him one baleful glance and strode off, head held just a little bit too high, towards the library. Ron shook his head and looked over at Harry.

'Girls!' he muttered.

*

Iris was sitting at her desk, preparing for the next class she would have to teach that afternoon, when a knock came at her door.

'Come in,' she called out softly, without looking up. She heard the door open, and then close and then soft footsteps walk to the middle of her office and stop there. She heard the rustle of long robes and the faintest scent of dried herbs and musk reached her nostrils. 'Professor Snape, how can I help you?' she said calmly, before purposefully shutting the book in front of her and looking up, straight into his eyes. He held her gaze for a moment, no more, the cold blackness of his eyes seemingly calculating, analysing every smallest detail about her; what she said, how she said it, who her mind worked, if at all possible.

'I doubt you can,' his calm, silky voice finally shattered that shortest moment of silence. 'I have come to enquire about a student from my House. He appeared particularly upset about a certain comment he alleges you made and certain points that were deducted from Slytherin.'

'Yes?' she asked unblinkingly, daring him to suggest any bias on her part. 'What about him?' The corner of Snape's mouth twitched for a moment in what she could only imagine was a sneer. She held his gaze, expressionlessly and waited. Behind Snape's own expressionless eyes, his mind was working with the sort of insight and alacrity few people have the pleasure of ever knowing. She was playing him at his own game and she was good at it. She wasn't giving him an inch and wasn't planning on doing so in the future.

She also had the sort of stare he only very rarely came across. A calm, chilly stare, not unlike his own, only, whereas his eyes seemed to suck a person into a seemingly bottomless blackness, hers, large and limpid seemed to show you nothing but your own reflection. If he had been anyone else, he knew he would have found it unnerving, and that was phrasing the sensation in the mildest possible terms. Now he knew why Malfoy had made such a fuss. Not that he didn't deserve it, the little brat, but he had to been seen to be doing something about it, at least.

'I was just interested in finding out exactly what happened,' he said smoothly, suddenly changing tack without so much as blinking. There was no point antagonising her. It wasn't going to get him anywhere at all. 'Malfoy has been known to have been, shall we say, economical with the truth before...' Snape let the rest of the sentence trail off meaningfully.

'I'm not surprised,' she said calmly, now that he had done his weighing of her, they had played their little game and they both knew where they stood. 'He seems to me to be the worst sort of spoilt little rich-boy I've ever had the displeasure of laying eyes upon,' she said.

Snape couldn't control the smirk that rose to his lips at her words and she saw the corner of his mouth twitch again in amusement. He wasn't that bad, after all. She really had no idea, now that she had met him, why everyone had been warning her about him all along. All you needed to do was to acknowledge his intelligence and not treat him like a moron. Surely it wasn't that difficult for people to see. It was plain as daylight.

'Yes. Mister Malfoy isn't the most amiable person one is likely to come across, it is true. Doubtless his less affable traits are severely aggravated by the many afflictions of adolescence.'

Iris couldn't suppress a smile, herself, at this. Snape's way with words didn't leave much to be desired. If there was one thing she appreciated in a man, it was wit, and Snape had just entered the top three in her list of the wittiest men she had ever met -the exact position he occupied on that list was yet to be determined. Amused as she was, however, she didn't volunteer any more information on the matter. If he wanted more, he would have to ask her directly. It wasn't really any of his business, anyway, and both of them new that that wasn't the reason he was there having this conversation with her. He was just weighing her up, testing the waters, Malfoy was just an excuse. She was the new girl in the playground and he was one of the old pack. He needed to know where she stood -not only in relation to him, but in general attitudes -and what her limits were.

'So, would you mind telling me what Mister Malfoy, in his boundless subtlety did this time?' Snape asked at last.

'He was insolent, arrogant and flippant. He was made an example of. -Along with Mister Harry Potter and Co.' she added as an afterthought. She saw Snape's eyebrows rise in surprise at her last sentence -obviously the points she took off Gryffindor had not reached his ears just yet. Mister Malfoy must have conveniently neglected to mention that insignificant little detail to his Head of House.

'The subject I teach, Professor Snape, as I'm sure you are aware -much like your subject -requires the utmost seriousness of mind of those who choose to study it, and I try to impress that on my students as early on as possible.'

He appreciated the well-chosen compliment, she could tell. His dark eyes sparkled as the slightest curling of his lips reached them for the first time.

'I see,' he said, simply. 'Of course you are right. I might have a private word with Mister Malfoy on the matter. I take it as a personal insult for any Slytherin to exhibit flippancy of this sort,' he added calmly.

She smiled at him genuinely for the first time.

'I'm sure it's not necessary. If he has not learnt his lesson yet, he will soon enough,' she said, the slightest hint of danger in her voice. It was obvious to Snape that she wouldn't be letting Malfoy out of her sight for an instant from now on; the boy wouldn't be able to so much as sneeze in her classes, which was a realisation that offered him a deep sense of satisfaction. He was about to take his leave when she spoke again, unexpectedly.

'I was about to go down to lunch, Professor Snape, would you care to join me?' she said as she got up from her seat. He only looked startled for a fraction of a second, and then his eyes twinkled mysteriously again, although his lips never moved. He stared at her for a moment and then spoke.

'Certainly. It would be a pleasure. I have a favour to ask of you, however, Professor Raveneye. I would ask you to start calling me by my given name.'

She stood up, walked around the desk towards him and stopped, facing him, her eyes smiling up at his.

'Severus is a wonderful name,' she said suddenly. 'It has power. In my line of work, as I'm sure you know, the name is all-important, it defines the personality and vice versa. It gives the entity its power and us power over the entity. Please stop calling me Professor Raveneye. I am Iris,' she added as she turned abruptly and headed for the door. She didn't see his mouth curl in an appreciative smirk as he gazed at her retreating back, before striding off after her. If nothing else, this year promised to be interesting, at least.

They walked down to the Great Hall together, but didn't so much as exchange a word. Neither of them was the type to talk idly, if they had nothing to say, and they were comfortable that way. As they took their seats at the Teachers' table, Ron nudged Harry and nodded in their direction.

'See?' he said, quietly. 'They've already started hanging out together. When was the last time you saw Snape in anyone else's company if they could possibly avoid it? They look like a couple of bats!' he added in the end as an afterthought. Harry chuckled and Hermione snorted, tossing her head dismissively at Ron's comment.

'I think you're just jealous!' she said maliciously. 'You just know that a woman that looks like that would never be interested in you!'

Ron stifled a theatrical snort in turn.

'Hermione, if I had to look like Snape for a woman like that to be interested in me, I'd rather stay the way I am and go out with Pansy Parkinson!' Harry burst out in uncontrollable laughter, as the image of Ron and Pansy Parkinson together jumped unbidden to his mind. Ron also started laughing quietly as the same picture started to rise up in front of him, evoked by Harry's continued hysterics. Hermione shook her head and tut-tutted.

'Honestly! Boys! You only have one thing in your minds, don't you? I didn't mean she liked him that way, for goodness sake's! I just meant that he probably can't believe his luck, getting the chance to hang out with a woman like that, when he's... well... you know...'

'-Evil?' Harry interjected.

'-I was going to say ugly,' Hermione glowered at him. 'We've been through this before Harry! He's not evil. Otherwise Dumbledore wouldn't have him here, remember? And he's saved your life once, remember that at least?'

'Yeah, yeah, I remember!' Harry agreed grudgingly.

'He's still the nastiest git I know, though,' Ron rallied to Harry's defence, 'even if he isn't evil. And I for one think he is. And if that woman can find anything in common with Snape to talk about, then she's probably just as evil as he is! I mean, you saw what she was like in class today!'

Hermione shook her head and decided she wasn't going to continue this conversation.

Out of the corner of her eye, Iris noticed the small huddled group in earnest discussion, the two boys occasionally erupting in laughter, and shooting the odd glance in her direction. The Granger girl seemed to be the only sober one in the group. Iris suppressed a smirk and forced herself not to look directly at them. Instead she skewered a piece of carrot with her fork in a manner that suggested that that particular action was engrossingly fascinating.

'We've been spotted,' she murmured so that only Snape could hear her. 'The news will be out within the next half an hour.'

Snape looked up at her, frowning in incomprehension. He distinctly disliked incomprehension and that made him irritable.

'What on earth are you talking about?' he almost growled. He also didn't like the veiled insinuation of her words. 'What news?'

'The news that your secret evil cult in league with the Dark Forces just acquired a new member,' she murmured sardonically, sneered, and ate another piece of carrot. 'I would have thought it was obvious,' she added as an afterthought. Snape's eyes narrowed as he looked at her, still trying to understand what she was talking about, and then the penny dropped. His head snapped round in the Gryffindor table's direction, his eyes fell on Ron, Harry and Hermione and the fire in their dark depths transmuted from simple irritability to overt anger. The change must have been something almost physical, because, almost immediately, Harry's head turned too, as if of its own accord, and he met Snape's scowling gaze.

'Uh-oh!' he breathed and swiftly turned back to Ron and Hermione, showing Snape nothing but his back. 'I think he's heard us.'

Hermione looked dubious.

'Is that even possible at this distance?' she asked and raised her head to look at what Harry had obviously seen. She regretted it too late, as her eyes too, inadvertently, locked unto Snape's. Quickly, she looked back down again, blushing brightly and feeling the tips of her ears burning. 'He does look pretty angry, doesn't he?' she agreed with Harry now. 'I've no idea how he did it, but he must have heard something, otherwise why would he be looking at us that way!?'

'I reckon it's that woman,' Ron interjected without looking up at the Teachers' table. The last thing he wanted was to find himself eye to eye with Snape. 'She doesn't miss a bloody thing, I tell you. She's scary!'

'Either way, I vote we get going. That evil git's bloody stare is making me uncomfortable,' Harry proposed.

'Agreed!' Ron said sombrely.

'I have to go to the library anyway,' Hermione added, casually, as they got up to leave.

'Why am I not surprised? Ron scoffed to himself as they exited the Great Hall.

'So, what's it about Harry Potter that rubs you the wrong then?' Iris asked off-handedly, as they watched the small group retreat towards the enormous oak doors of the Great Hall. She was watching them discreetly -in fact, it would hardly have been possible to tell if one wasn't sitting next to her and staring directly into her face. Snape on the other hand, openly hadn't taken his eyes off them for a second.

'The same thing that you find irritating about Malfoy: flippancy,' he answered dismissively, 'and arrogance. Potter should know better. Potter is over-indulged by everyone and he does nothing but show utter contempt for everyone's efforts to keep him alive. He believes he knows better; always. And this sort of arrogance is the sort that gets people killed. He needs to learn discipline, and I see no one making any effort to teach him any such thing!' Snape concluded hastily, his mind not really into the conversation. He was thinking about what she had just said. It hadn't registered immediately, but once it had the thought had taken over. What exactly did she mean when she had said 'his evil cult'... 'in league with the Dark Forces' no less... It could just have been an innocent attempt at humour, nothing more than a remark that alluded to nothing else but the fact that they both seemed to have a preference for black robes. On the other hand, in his personal experience, minds as quick and observant and tongues and sharp as hers seldom made 'innocent' -and never so shallow -remarks. He looked back down at her, despite himself noticing the handsome curve of her neck as she leaned down to pick up her napkin that had slipped from her lap, and she seemed totally unconcerned. He made a mental note to have a chat with Professor Dumbledore. He should have done that already, he chastised himself. He had been lax, and if there was ever a time when he couldn't afford to be lax, it was now. She had been at Hogwarts for an entire day already and he still knew nothing about her.

'I see,' she said as she picked up her napkin. 'I absolutely agree with you. Talent, intelligence, ambition, bravery... They're all meaningless without discipline and hard work.' She didn't see the second genuine smile of the day that touched his lips briefly and fled before she turned to look at him; she only saw the sparkle it left in his eyes. Yes, Snape thought, if all this wasn't an act just put on for his benefit, he could see himself getting along marvellously well with the new Professor. It certainly made a change from the past four years at least. First Quirell, then Lockhart, then that dreaded Lupin and finally a Mad-Eye Moody impostor of all things! It was certainly a welcome change; especially considering what this year had in store for him... for all of them it seemed. The thought made the previous gleam in his eyes disappear again, and his usual bitter scowl contorted his pale features once more. His sudden change in mood didn't escape her notice, but she said nothing. If she wanted him to trust her she had to give him enough space for him to come to that conclusion naturally, slowly, one step at a time. She couldn't very well expect him to be any more trusting than he already had appeared to be. People like Snape needed ample room to breathe... and think... and do their research she added to herself with a secret smirk. After all, she needed to do the same before she came to her own conclusions.

She stood up slowly from the table and he rose with her, out of courtesy, she could tell. He was desperate to take off to somewhere secret and private. He was positively perched, like a raven, ready to take flight at the first opportunity. She wouldn't keep him, she too had her own private affairs to take care of.

'I would like to thank you, Severus, for your stimulating company. I never expected lunch-times at Hogwarts could have been as interesting!' she added with a wry smile.

His black, calculating eyes held hers for a moment and then his lips curled up slightly in his best attempt yet at a smile.

'I confess to a similar pleasant surprise,' he began coolly, his silky voice strangely hushed. 'It has been many years since the last interesting lunch-time I remember that didn't involve foolish, mischievous students and inane magical jokes.'

She shot him a lop-sided amused smirk which made her, strangely, seem even more impressive than usual.

'Anyone in particular I should be watching out for in that particular department?' she asked, and it was the last question he had expected to hear. 'Every school has them,' she continued. 'Who is it here?'

'I believe you need to be keeping an eye out for the truly formidable Weasley twins, currently pursuing their seventh year of indefatigable mischief in this school,' he informed her coldly. Simply remembering the Weasley twins aggravated him, so he usually chose not to do it unless expressly forced to: as in when he punished Gryffindor for their antics. Try as he might though, he found that he couldn't loathe them in the same profound way he loathed Harry Potter, because Fred and George Weasley were exceedingly good at Potions -which explained the way in which they achieved most of their magical pranks. Harry Potter, on the other hand, was exceedingly good at Quidditch -which was something that failed to impress Professor Snape in any way, shape, or form. Even that insufferable know-it-all, Hermione Granger, was better than Potter. At least she had brains and she had discipline. She put her brains to good use, which was more than he could say of most of the people he knew, let alone most of the students.

'I believe I will be meeting the formidable twins very shortly then, as I am teaching the seventh-years in twenty minutes,' she said slyly. 'Thank you for the invaluable information. It is always good to know what you're up against, preferably well in advance,' she added with a wry smile and turned to leave. 'I will let you know how it went at dinner. And good luck with your Defence against the Dark Arts this afternoon. I believe you've got Potter's group!' she called back at him without turning and without him seeing her amused grin.

Snape scowled at her back as she retreated then turned on his heel, his robes whirling ominously around him, and headed for Dumbledore's office. This could not be pure chance. The woman must surely be putting on an act. He needed to get as much information about her as he could get his hands on, and the person that would have that information was Dumbledore.

*

She had started the seventh-years with more or less the same speech she had delivered earlier to the fifth-years. It hadn't been hard to spot the Weasley twins. They stood out in a crowd like two sore thumbs. Like their younger brother Ron, they had been cursed -or blessed, depending on your point of view -with the brightest red hair and freckles she had ever seen. And they positively radiated mischief. Thanks to Snape's useful information, she didn't give them the chance to act on it, however, although she was sure they must have had something already planned.

'Mister George and mister Fred Weasley,' she said smoothly as she finished her initial introduction. 'I should warn you that I will be watching you both very closely and will not tolerate any sort of humour, antics or practical jokes in my classroom. Count yourselves warned. Your reputation, I'm sure you will be proud to know, precedes you and as you probably hold no fear of personal punishment, you should keep in mind that if I even so much as suspect you of any sort of mischief, one hundred points will automatically be taken from Gryffindor.' She saw them scowling quietly in their corner but they didn't dare say anything. 'The same goes for everyone else,' she added, 'that might be tempted to take this subject lightly. One hundred points off any House whose students exhibit anything less than the seriousness that befits their age!' she finished coldly. Perfect silence greeted her as she paused. 'Wonderful,' she concluded. 'Now we can get one with actually learning something, hopefully,' and she turned to the board.

*

Harry, Ron and Hermione scurried hurriedly out of Snape's classroom, glad to be able to finally get out of his sight. He had spent almost the entire lesson scowling sourly at them, and never wasting an opportunity for a nasty remark. Finally teaching Defence against the Dark Arts, as he had always wanted, didn't seem to have improved his mood in the slightest.

'What does it take to make this guy happy?!' Ron wondered rhetorically as the three of them hurried from the classroom.

'At least he didn't take any points off Gryffindor today,' Harry said, trying vainly to see the bright side of things. 'It could have been worse!' And they disappeared around the corner.

Snape left the classroom, behind them, and walked swiftly back to his office. After his rather brief chat with Dumbledore that lunch-time, he hadn't had the chance to process the information he had gleaned from him. He had now reached that time of day when he was getting desperate for some privacy, and some peace and quiet. He opened the door to the dungeon that served as his sparsely furnished office and locked it shut behind him. He sat at his desk, laid his arms down in front of him, laced his fingers and his jaw tightened involuntarily, as he started running through what Dumbledore had told him about Iris Raveneye again in his mind. No wonder he had had no idea where she had come from and knew nothing about her or her background. She didn't come from Hogwarts. In fact, she came from a different country altogether. You couldn't tell by hearing her speak, but she had been born in France, from British parents. She had spent most of her life travelling back and forth from the continent to Britain and back again, and when the time had come for her to go to school, she had been sent to Beauxbattons, rather than Hogwarts. In the midst of Voldermort's reign of terror, Snape had to admit that her parents had done the most reasonable thing. She would most likely have been in much less risk there, than at Hogwarts. This was where Dumbledore's story had become a bit vague. The reason she had come back to Britain, when she had come back to Britain, and what she had been doing before she had come to Hogwarts, had all been rather confused and unclear. If he didn't know any better he would have been sure that Dumbledore was trying to keep something from him. In fact, he did know better. Dumbledore had his own methods and his own devices and these didn't always tally with Snape's own. Undoubtedly, sooner or later he would find out what was going on, but for the time being, the more he thought about it, the more it looked like Dumbledore had his own little plan all thought out here, and Snape was being excluded from it. He didn't quite feel bitter about it, after all he trusted Dumbledore's judgement implicitly... well, most of the time, he had to admit to himself, since no one could hear his thoughts right now..., but he would never say that in public. He owed Dumbledore more than he could ever hope to repay. If he felt that Dumbledore had one fault that was -in his opinion -that the Headmaster was too liberal with his trust. There was one thing he was absolutely certain about, however, even after the not very enlightening conversation with Dumbledore. That woman was not all that she seemed. If she was nothing more than a good high school teacher, then he, Severus Snape, was a kitten; a plump fluffy white one, he thought to himself with a disgusted sneer.

*

Over a month went by, reasonably smoothly, for Iris. Most of her students were behaving themselves by now. The scores of points that were being deducted from all four Houses within the first three weeks of classes had obviously served to convince them that she was serious in her threats. Even the Weasley twins had managed to control their insatiable thirst for mischief, at least in her classes. Draco Malfoy spent every single lesson glaring balefully at her in overt hatred, but it didn't bother her. At least he was behaving himself. She had a sneaky suspicion that Snape had had a private chat with him even though she had expressly asked him not to. She was aware that she wasn't the most popular teacher in the school, at least for most of the students, but that also failed to disturb her. Her job was to teach them how to protect themselves against some of the Darkest creatures alive and some of the evilest, most dangerous curses that could be cast against them. She needed them to take this seriously, whether they liked her or not was irrelevant. And in her Invocation classes, she had to teach them how to communicate with beings beyond their paltry, mortal comprehension. If the only way to make them understand that this was not something not to be taken lightly was by becoming unpleasantly severe, then so be it.

Everything seemed as close to normal as it could ever be in a School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. There was always the occasional accidental explosion, several cauldron meltdowns, countless new charms going remarkably wrong -but nothing Madam Pomfrey couldn't fix -and of course the odd flying accident. The only other thing that had struck her in the past month was the way Snape's generally unpleasant manner had taken a turn for the worse, if that was at all possible. He seemed to now be in a constant state of vengeful viciousness. Recently, he had also started looking even paler than usual, his face starting to become positively gaunt. She was willing to bet that he had lost at least five pounds in the past three weeks, and there wasn't that much on him that he could afford to lose. Even his eyes looked flatter than usual. They only seemed to flare up briefly at the occasional hapless student that had the misfortune of getting on his bad side and consequently received ridiculously disproportionate punishment for their -invariably inadvertent -mistakes. She could see now that even most of the other teachers had started avoiding him; all except Dumbledore, of course, and McGonagall who remained, as usual, unfazed by his manner. Iris herself didn't attempt to avoid him, but didn't actively seek his company out either. Observation, in cases like this, was better than actual involvement. If there was one thing she could tell instantly was when someone needed breathing space. Besides, if there was anything she decided she needed to know, Dumbledore was sure to provide her with the relevant information.

Then, suddenly, one Sunday afternoon, a knock came at her office door.

'Come in,' she called out softly and looked up from her enormous, leather-bound tome of Communication with Entities of the Higher Planes. Snape swept soundlessly through the door, leaving it open behind him. He wasn't planning on staying long, she noticed, expressionlessly.

'Iris, I wonder if I might have a word,' he said in a hushed, subdued tone she wasn't used to hearing from his lips.

'Certainly,' she said, the slightest frown of concern now creasing her flawless brow.

'I was wondering whether you could find the time to cover my Defence against the Dark Arts classes for the coming week,' he said quickly, as if he was afraid he wouldn't be able to say the words if he stopped to think about it. The words came out with an effort, as if he was forcing himself to say something he deeply resented. She wasn't surprised. She knew he had been after that position for years, and now he was being forced to ask her to take over for a week. Knowing Snape, it couldn't have been pleasant for him; and the reasons for him leaving couldn't have been anything but compelling.

'Of course,' she said calmly, trying not to let him notice her concern. 'No problem at all.' He nodded curtly, without so much as another word, and swept out the door again. Two seconds later, seemingly as an afterthought, her door slammed shut, apparently of its own accord. Her lips twisted in an amused smirk that was simply impossible to contain. She hadn't so much as touched her wand. The smirk faded quickly, however, as more pressing thoughts crowded in her mind, fighting with each other for her attention.

She sat at her desk, motionless, thinking, for at least the next half-hour. Then, as if she had very suddenly made her decision, she stood up and strode out the door.

'Chocolate Frogs,' she said absentmindedly at the Gargoyle that stood guard outside the hidden door that led to Dumbledore's office. The Gargoyle casually leapt into action, drew aside and the hitherto unseen door swung open. An enormous spiral staircase appeared behind it, leading somewhere so high up it was impossible to see. The moment she stepped on it, the staircase started revolving -not unlike a muggle escalator -taking her higher and higher up into the tall tower. When the staircase stopped moving she was standing in front of yet another door. She raised her hand to knock on it, but a voice from within cut her short.

'Come in Professor Raveneye.' She couldn't help but smile to herself. Good old Dumbledore! What's the use of being a wizard of his almost incomprehensible powers if you can't tell who is about to knock on your door? She pushed the door open and walked in to a perfectly circular office, lit by a wonderful warm glow that wasn't entirely clear where it was coming from. The paintings hanging on the walls, all the way around the office, were of old headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts. Some of them were quietly dozing off in their frames, some were holding earnest whispered conversations and one or two particularly hawk-like headmistresses were watching her every move with profound interest.

'What can I do for you?' Dumbledore asked her from behind his desk, his bright blue eyes twinkling kindly at her over his half-moon glasses, as he motioned to her to take a seat.

She took a seat in one of the comfortable, high-back leather chairs facing him, and laced her fingers in her lap.

'Some information would be nice, to start with...' she said with a wry smile.

'Yes...?' Dumbledore prompted her gently. She nodded -mainly to herself -with a quirky grin twisting her exquisite lips, as if to say 'ok, I'll get on with it'.

'Do you know why Snape's asked me to cover his Defence against the Dark Arts classes this week?'

'Yes,' Dumbledore replied calmly but not unkindly, and stopped there. She stared deep into his eyes for a couple of moments, trying to decide whether there was any point in hoping for more of an elaboration from him.

'Is he going to be leaving Hogwarts for the next few days?' she decided to ask, since more information wasn't forthcoming.

'Yes,' Dumbledore replied monosyllabically again.

'Is he going to be seeing whom I think he is going to be seeing?' she asked in such an apocryphal manner that even Dumbledore allowed himself the tiniest hint of a smile before donning again his previous sibylline expression.

'Yes,' he answered after the briefest pause. Despite herself, she felt her heart give a little flutter at his words. Her eyes didn't so much a blink, however.

'Shouldn't we be keeping an eye on him?' she asked rather more hastily than she would have liked.

'No,' Dumbledore said, and her heart gave another, slightly sharper flutter this time, which must have registered in her eyes, because Dumbledore decided to venture beyond monosyllables for the first time since she had walked in, 'We considered it would be too dangerous,' was all he said -all he needed to say, and she understood. That was not to say that she was liking what she was hearing, however. She fell silent, only because there were so many things she was wanting to say all at once, it was simply easier to say nothing; and more eloquent, it emerged, since Dumbledore decided to reply to everything she hadn't said.

'It cannot be helped, Iris,' he called her by her given name for the first time. 'It is too early to risk any surveillance...' his voice drifted off into silence, strangely, as if a thought was just occurring to him. 'Unless,' he began, tentatively, 'you know of any way that escapes me which might be less... obtrusive than usual...?' She didn't speak for a few moments while she considered her reply.

'Maybe...' she said in the end, even more cautiously than Dumbledore had spoken before. 'It will depend on the distance...' she continued, still formulating the idea in her mind.

'That is something I do not know,' he replied seriously. 'I don't think he even knows exactly.' She shook her head suddenly and a deep frown was now creasing her brow.

'No. It won't work. Not unless I know the exact location... Well, unless he decides to go by broomstick, that is,' she added lightly with a forced smile. Dumbledore smiled back at her.

'Somehow I doubt that is going to be the case,' he said, his eyes twinkling kindly again. 'I'd be fairly sure Apparition is going to be the mode of travel.'

'Yes. So would I,' she agreed. 'Unless he could be persuaded to carry a little something with him?' she added hopelessly, knowing what the answer to that would be.

'You know that can't be done,' Dumbledore said, serious once more. 'I would have to tell him what that little something was and why he would be carrying it, and that would mean telling him what you are and why you are here. And I think we've both agreed that, in the interests of his, yours and everyone else's safety, we shouldn't do that,' Dumbledore concluded, and then, quite suddenly, started off again. 'You do know it's been driving him completely spare not being able to figure out why you're here, don't you?' he said, grinning widely again, obviously deeply amused by the whole situation.

'He's a suspicious bastard, isn't he?' Iris said with a laugh that held no malice in it whatsoever. Dumbledore nodded sagely.

'Severus isn't the most trusting of people, it is true,' he agreed with a smile, 'and I would be ungraceful if I didn't admit that he has been correct in his predictions on people more than once. He has also been known to have been horribly mistaken in several instances, as well. But frankly, he cannot afford to be any less suspicious, or any more trusting. Fortunately for us, my dear Iris, he still hasn't made up his mind about you. To be sure he is suspicious, but only because he has found me to be less forthcoming with information than usual.'

Iris smiled wanly at him, not really wanting to say anything for a couple of moments.

'Albus, what I said before, it can be done. As long as it's in this country, all I need is a location. I understand that it probably is impossible now, seeing as it is still so early, but afterwards, if you have a location, I can keep a very unobtrusive eye on things,' she said, emphasising the key word in the sentence. Dumbledore nodded soberly.

'Rest assured, my dear Iris, that your assistance will be called upon the moment it is possible for you to give it. Now, try and not let yourself worry too much and enjoy the rest of your Sunday. I would recommend a large helping of chocolate fudge cake with cream, to steady the nerves. It always works for me, and there is always sure to be some in the kitchen,' he added meaningfully with a wide, warmly innocent grin. She smiled broadly at him and stood up from her seat.

'You know, I might just try the chocolate cake formula since you so highly recommend it. If nothing else, it's sure to be more enjoyable than brewing and drinking calming potions right now,' she said with a mischievous grin. She turned and headed for the door, but paused, looking back, when she heard the Headmaster's voice again, behind her.

'Maybe I should recommend chocolate therapy to Severus, also,' he said as if considering the many possibilities of such a prospect. Iris spluttered involuntarily, almost choking on her own sudden laughter.

'Somehow, Snape doesn't strike me as the kind of person who is likely to appreciate the many epicurean, and therapeutic, qualities of chocolate,' she managed between gasps of laughter.

'Oh, I don't know,' Dumbledore said, his voice acquiring a peculiar, far-away quality, 'maybe you can teach him...'

The end of his sentence was greeted with what could only be described as a snort, followed by more laughter.

'Goodbye Headmaster,' was all she said between almost hysterical chuckles, and she made as if to close the door.

'Unlikely, you think?' Dumbledore's voice came innocently from behind the half-closed door.

'Highly,' she answered and the door swung shut, half drowning her continued amusement. Behind the door, Dumbledore shrugged, and then smiled.

(End of Chapter 1)