Two Natures of the Beast

Chapter 1: In Which Dumbledore Reveals The New DADA Instructor

Severus Snape sat in the Headmaster's office in the highest tower at Hogwarts, a dark scowl heavy upon his angular features.

Sulking, thought Minerva McGonagall, just because he didn't get the Defense against the Dark Arts position again.

This was the fifth year in a row that Snape had applied for the position, and the fifth year he had been turned down. Albus Dumbledore's voice was oddly gentle as he spoke to his Potions master.

"Severus," he began, "it is not that you lack the skill to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, or that I don't believe you capable of handling the job."

"Well, then-"

Dumbledore held up a long, knobbly finger, silencing Snape's protest.

"The problem, Severus, is that I am unable to find another with your skill at Potions. I won't have the children learn from anyone less. In recent times, Defense Against the Dark Arts has been a popular subject to study. I can much more easily find a Dark Arts teacher than a suitable Potions master. I am truly sorry."

"But, sir, surely..." Snape couldn't believe what he was hearing; he had been done in by his own talent.

"I'm sorry," Dumbledore repeated. "I've already hired the new Dark Arts professor. As a matter of fact, she is arriving today from America. I'd like you to pick her up at the station in Hogsmeade, if you will."

Snape was aghast. "An American?! But, Professor Dumbledore, an American is hardly qualified to instruct our students in Defense Against the Dark Arts! You-Know-Who barely touched our Yankee brethren," he pointed out, truly appalled.

"There is more to Defense classes than Death Eater hunting!" snapped McGonagall sharply. "America has experienced many dark events. The Salem witch trials, all those wars. The place is overrun with werewolves and vampires! And just look what happened when a Dark wizard decided to 'help' his candidate in their last election!"

"Thank you, Minerva, I'm sure Severus is aware of the Dark history of America. Severus," Dumbledore said kindly, "please, give me your support in this. I only want what is best for the students."

"Yes, of course, I understand, Headmaster," Snape replied, burying his irritation and disappointment. He knew when to beat a graceful retreat. "What time shall I meet the train, Sir?”

"Two o'clock, Severus, and I thank you."

With a terse nod, Snape stood and exited the room.

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Snape pounded down the stone stairs, blindly turning corners, returning to Slytherin House by instinct. His mind was racing as he replayed the conversation in his head. As he entered his chamber, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looked like a madman, he realized. His normally pale face was flushed an angry pink. His limp black hair hung messily in front of unfathomable black eyes, which glittered dangerously back at him. His black robes were disheveled from his hasty flight from the tower. He smiled mockingly at himself, caught sight of his yellowed teeth, and quickly clamped his lips shut. He took stock of this unwanted turn of events as he paced back and forth across the room.

He had really thought that this was his year. In light of the promised Dark events beginning to unfold once again, Snape had believed that Dumbledore would want a Dark Arts teacher with real experience. Who better to educate these naive children about what they were up against than himself? After all, he had once been in the heart of the darkness, had been a Death Eater; he knew firsthand what they were capable of. When he thought about the horrors he had seen perpetrated...

As always when he thought about such things these days, he pushed up the sleeve of his robes to look at the ugly stain upon his arm. The black skull still stared accusingly at him from his own flesh. Was this why he was held back? No, he told himself. Dumbledore trusted him. He alone knew the deep and painful regret that Snape felt.

Dumbledore, Snape knew, had a plan. The wily old man always did. For now, hard as it was, he knew he must accept the situation. So he would meet this Yankee female at Hogsmeade as Dumbledore asked, and he would be civil to her. But as always, he would be vigilant. Who knew, he thought, when the opportunity to prove his true worth might come knocking?

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Aurora Jackson sat nervously in her compartment on the Hogwarts Express. She really didn't know what to expect once she arrived at the station. Not only was this her first trip to England, but it was also her first teaching position. The Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, had told her that he would explain everything more fully once she arrived at Hogwarts as the owls were becoming unhappy with their trans-Atlantic flights. When she had complained to her father, who was old friends with British headmaster, about this frustrating lack of information, he had reassured her that Albus Dumbledore was a man to be trusted and she was in good hands. She supposed this would have to do until she met with Dumbledore herself. The situation didn’t exactly imbue one with confidence, however.

She felt the train start to slow, and her heart thudded deep in her chest as she brushed imaginary wrinkles from her burgundy cloak. She smoothed her dark hair, wound tightly in a teacher's topknot, hoping she looked appropriate.  Before now, she had never needed more than a basic ponytail and comfortable clothes. She had tried to model her appearance on what she could recall from her own school days- plain robes, no-nonsense hair, and sensible shoes. In truth, she’d never had much of a fancy wardrobe anyway. She liked things to be practical, serviceable.  She wasn’t here to get a date, anyway. Shaking herself out of her thoughts, Aurora picked up her case, straightened up and marched purposefully off the train.

Aurora looked around the platform, realizing that she knew no-one there. She had, of course, seen many photographs of Albus Dumbledore, but she did not see him in the nearly deserted station. She bit her lip, wondering how she was supposed to get to the school. Maybe she should have brought her broomstick with her? She was about to despair when she sensed a presence behind her.

"Ms. Jackson?"

Aurora whirled around, almost losing her balance. Thankfully, she managed to stay upright, because she immediately realized that this man was not someone you wanted to embarrass yourself in front of. He was tall and sharp featured, and currently wore a look of imperious disdain on his pale face.

"Oh, yes, that's right! I'm Aurora Jackson. And you are...?" she asked, extending her hand to him.

He glanced coldly at it, and, ignoring the niceties, replied, "Severus Snape, Potions master. Come along; I don't have all day."

With that he strode quickly from the platform. Aurora struggled to keep up with his long-legged gait, fumbling with her heavy case. Snape became aware that she was not behind him, and turned around to see what the problem was.

"Oh, for the love of...here, give me your case, Ms. Jackson. I really must get back to Hogwarts. I need to finish my lesson plan. Classes do start tomorrow, and some of us actually prefer to prepare ahead of time!" Saying this, he grabbed her case and once again strode away.

As Aurora practically ran beside him, she huffed, "I'm terribly sorry to have inconvenienced you; it's just that I'm not licensed to Apparate in England yet, so I had to take Muggle transportation from the States. Besides, I prepared my lesson plan while I travelled..."

Her voice trailed away as he simply gave her a cold sneer. Her Yank accent, Snape thought, was as grating as her pitiful excuses. He reminded himself that he had meant to be civil to her, and silently led Aurora to the school.

Once they were there, he led her to the staircase that led to the headmaster's tower and pointed. "Dumbledore's office is up that way. The password for the year is Ton-Tongue Toffee. Go ahead, he's expecting you. I'll have one of the house-elves take your case to your room."

"Thank you, Professor Snape. It was, er, nice meeting you," she said halfheartedly.

"Professor Dumbledore is waiting, Ms. Jackson." He stood there for a moment, then hurried off to his office.

Aurora cautiously ascended the stone staircase, slowly drinking in the strangely beautiful castle around her. She had never seen anything quite like it before. Formerly a California native, she was accustomed to single story stucco buildings. Hogwarts seemed very grand with its stone walls, twisting staircases, and suits of armor.

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Once at the top of the stairs, Aurora was asked for the password by the gargoyle at the top. Stifling a nervous giggle, she gave the one that Professor Snape had supplied her with. The heavy oak door swung inward to admit her to Headmaster Dumbledore’s office. Seated behind an immense and cluttered desk was an older wizard wearing half-moon spectacles and a long white beard. He appeared busy with paperwork, a scarlet quill scratching away on the parchment in front of him. His head was bent over his work in concentration, and Aurora worried that she was interrupting him. At the sound of her footfall, however, he looked up and smiled widely.

“Ms. Aurora Jackson! Welcome!” he exclaimed warmly. “Come in, come in.”

He waved vaguely at the chairs in front of his desk, which were a variety of shapes and sizes. Aurora selected a leather wingbacked chair and gingerly sat down, looking at Dumbledore anxiously. “Hello,” she said, keeping her voice as calm and steady as she could. She hadn’t expected that she would feel so incredibly nervous.

Dumbledore favored her with another smile, which somehow set her instantly at ease. “My, but you resemble your father. Egads, I haven’t seen Septimius in almost twenty years! How time does fly. And now, here is his little girl, all grown up, and working for me. I am sorry, by the way, at the sorry lack of information you received. I hope I am forgiven?” The older wizard’s eyes twinkled mischievously.

Aurora returned his infectious smile. “Of course, Professor Dumbledore, but I must admit I am very nervous. With all due respect, what, exactly, do you expect me to teach these kids?” She ended with a small laugh, but in truth she wasn’t being entirely facetious. There were a lot of directions a Dark Arts class could go, and while she had quite a bit of knowledge under her belt, she didn’t have much field experience.

“Quite simply, I want you to teach them to defend themselves,” Dumbledore said, his homely face serious, belying the light tone in his voice. “The title of the class is *Defense* Against the Dark Arts, but in reality it has always been taught more like a survey course- the history of the vampire, the habits of the kappa, and curses one must never do. In all honesty, Ms. Jackson, my students are not prepared to battle a Dark Wizard; they probably could not even save themselves from one. I leave it in your hands to change that.”

Aurora gulped and and sank back in her chair. The task he was suggesting seemed huge to her. “Sir,” she began apprehensively, but Dumbledore cut off her protest.

“Now, you’ll have attended the Auror’s Academy in San Francisco, correct?”

“Yes, but I didn’t graduate,” she said, flushing a bit with embarrassment. “I’m not sure-”

“That doesn’t matter. I understand that there were extenuating circumstances. I have spoken to all of your instructors- every single one gave you glowing recommendations. I hear you are phenomenal with curses and counter curses, which is something I wish you to focus on. I think you are more than up to the task. I hate to use clichés, but those who can, do, and those who can’t...”

“Teach,” she finished wryly. “Can I at least ask one question?” At his nod, she continued. “Why, all of a sudden, do you want to implement this kind of program?”

Dumbledore’s face grew thoughtful, and more than a little sad. “Ah, now that is a tale I wish I didn’t have to tell. To be blunt, Ms. Jackson, at the end of last year, Voldemort was resurrected.”

Aurora gasped, her whole being recoiling in horror. “You-Know-Who?”

“Call him by his name, Ms. Jackson, and yes,” said Dumbledore. “It began with a boy named Barty Crouch...”

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Later that evening, a very exhausted Aurora was escorted to her bedchamber by one of the school house-elves. She was even more nervous now than she had already been, and it had nothing to do the impending arrival of the students on the next day. During the rest of their meeting, Professor Dumbledore had very quietly explained what had happened at the end of the previous school year. She knew he was counting on her to help protect Harry Potter and the rest of the students.

Aurora was scholastically at the top of her field, but she had never been called upon to face anything comparable to Voldemort. She had only been a child when Voldemort's reign of terror had ended, but her father had told her some horrifying stories of his days as an Auror. He had joined the fight in Europe then, convinced that if Voldemort was not stopped, he would strike out for America next. She shuddered, hoping it would not come to that.

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Snape was sitting in his office the next day, putting some final touches on his lesson plan, when his clock bonged loudly, startling him. He glanced up at the clock, which flashed "Time for the Sorting Ceremony." Gathering his papers, he left for the Great Hall, eager to see who would be Sorted into Slytherin this year. As he rounded the corner he heard the sound off students' voices.

"...Nutters! Imagine, turned down for a fifth time in a row!"

Snape stopped in his tracks, seething to hear students discussing his misfortune. It had been bad enough pretending to ignore the smirk on McGonagall’s face when Dumbledore handed down the verdict. It was quite another thing to be the mockery of the entire school.

"Yeah, well, I'll just reckon he takes it out on us in Potions this year!"

Snape recognized that voice- Potter. The other voice must have belonged to Ronald Weasley. Then he heard a female voice- Hermione Granger.

"Well then, just be quiet and study, and you won't lose any points for Gryffindor!"

Snape stepped around the corner, sliding silently to stand before the guilty parties with that knack he had for impeccable timing.

"Sound advice, Miss Granger."

Harry and Ron shot each other nervous looks. Snape, tamping down his ire, only said mildly, "A word, if you please, Potter."

When Ron and Hermione just stood there, gaping at him, he said sharply, "You two may leave."

Still, they didn't move. Harry whispered, "It's all right- I'll see you at the Feast."

Reluctantly they left Harry alone with Snape.

As Snape drew Harry aside, he noticed that the haunted look had not yet left the fifteen year old's eyes. He felt a sharp stab of pity, understanding only too well what it was like to be surrounded by a hungry mob of Death Eaters, staring into those insane red eyes. He shut the feeling off. That, he reminded himself, was exactly what Harry didn't need. The other teachers here were so soft on the boy, not realizing that they were hurting him more than helping him. The boy needed to be made stronger, not babied. Snape knew that he would likely be sorely tested in the weeks to come. He would not baby Harry.

"Welcome back, Potter," he began. "I do hope you're not planning any mischief for this year."

Harry's green eyes flashed, but he held his tongue.

Snape continued, "I just wanted to let you know that I'll be keeping an extra close eye on you this year. In light of the way you ended things last year, I want to make sure you clearly, and I do mean clearly, understand that further lawlessness on your part will most assuredly not be tolerated. Do you understand me, Potter?"

Harry glared. "Yes, Professor Snape. Anything else, or can I go now?"

"Go," said Snape, "but know that I am watching you."

Harry stalked off. Snape was about to go himself when he found himself faced with an irate Aurora Jackson. She gesticulated wildly as she demanded, "How could you talk to that poor boy like that?!"

"That poor boy, Professor Jackson, is in the constant habit of breaking even the most inviolable of school rules, usually to the detriment of his own safety. That poor boy, yearly, drives me out of my mind with worry that he will throw away the gift of life that was so unexplicably given to him. It will not happen on my watch!" Snape hissed.

Taken aback by his vehemence, Aurora could only stare at Snape.

"Now," he said chillingly, "we must get to the Hall before the Great Feast starts. You don't want to miss your grand introduction!"

She silently followed him as he stalked off toward the Great Hall. She seemed to be making a habit of it, Aurora thought to herself. They slid into their seats at the large professors' table at the head of the Hall just as Dumbledore stood to make his annual speech. Aurora found herself between the still icy Snape and an unbelievably large man who introduced himself as Hagrid. He was the groundskeeper and Care of Magical Creatures instructor, as it turned out. Small talk was pleasant enough, but Aurora couldn’t help sliding her eyes in Snape’s direction every once in a while. He remained as haughty as ever.

Noticing that Snape was pretending Aurora didn't exist, Hagrid tried to reassure her.

"Don' worry yerself none, Aurora. That's jest how he is. He's never nice ter nobody. Bit of a git, he is."

Aurora smiled at Hagrid, glad to at last have met somebody who was being friendly, but before she could reply, she realized that Dumbledore was introducing her.

"...sure you all have noticed that we have a new DADA instructor this term. She has journeyed here from America to share her incredible knowledge of the Dark Arts, and how to fight them, with us. Please extend a Hogwarts welcome to Professor Jackson."

The students clapped politely as Aurora stood up. As she sat back down, Dumbledore gave the word for the Feast to start. Around her, she could hear the excited murmur of the students, catching up after a summer apart. This is going to be all right, she thought. Next to her, Snape continued scowling as he ate.