Ebb and Flow

Hogwarts, September 1987

***

What am I doing here, Althea thought as the large doors shut behind her--the loud echo caused her wince slightly. I really shouldn't be allowed around children; I don't consider myself a good role model...what is Dumbledore thinking? Is Dumbledore thinking? Of course, he's thinking--just not thinking as a normal person would think.

"I remember you," she heard a voice say to her right.

Althea quickly turned to face Filch, just as grim and surly as she had last seen him over ten years ago.

"Locking my Mrs. Norris in that broom cupboard, yes I remember you," he continued, narrowing his eyes.

Althea bit her lip as she did her best not to snicker. Which broom cupboard, she reminisced, looking at Mrs. Norris as the cat weaved between Filch's legs. How many times had we locked that obnoxious cat in a broom cupboard, a drawer...that one time we almost succeeded in boxing her up and sending her to Ecuador.... Unfortunately, Filch interrupted us at the last minute and we had to chuck that crying cat out of the box, and then pretend we were snogging in the Owlery. It took twenty minutes to remove the owl feathers from my hair--oh, but we had that meddling cat.

"It was never proven we did so," she replied with a small smile. "Anyway, I suppose you brought my bags..." she started, but trailed off as Filch walked away from her. "Right, you odd little man," she murmured, frowning, "what do I do now?"

This place has not changed. The same portraits, the same smell...honestly, Hogwarts must have always been a musty castle--and drafty too, she thought, snugly wrapping her cloak around her shoulders. No, this place truly has not changed.... I wonder how many of my old professors are still here. I thought many of them would retire after we left--well, except for--

"Good morning, Auntie," she said with forced happiness as McGonagall strode to greet her.

McGonagall pulled Althea into a tight hug. "I almost didn't recognize you," she replied, holding Althea in an unreasonably long embrace. "I didn't realize you would arrive so early. I thought you'd take the Hogwarts Express."

Althea awkwardly jerked herself from McGonagall's embrace. "I was, but I decided against it. I wanted to be completely settled before the feast tonight."

As McGonagall pulled away, she inspected Althea. "Yes, you need to eat; you're so thin, look at you. And your hair, it's shorter," she commented and tugged at a shoulder length curl.

Althea blushed and stroked her hair. Since Azkaban, she had become more self-conscious of her appearance. Her figure had lost its youthful fullness, her arms and shoulder no longer bore tattoos, her eyes were dull and lifeless, and on many occasions, she forced herself to smile.

"You don't like it?" she asked, smoothing a curl behind her ear.

McGonagall shook her head. "No, no, it's lovely. I would never have expected you to cut your hair. You took such great pride in its length. I'll never forget the time Sirius...oh, never mind," she said and rested her hand on Althea's arm.

"It's all right, Auntie," she replied quietly, "it has been some time now."

Almost six years, she thought and gently bit her bottom lip. It was only this year that I could say his name without the bile rising in my throat. Ever since his imprisonment, Sirius's name was always spoken in hushed tones around Althea, and in some circles, his name had become as feared as Voldemort. The hushed tones and refusals to utter his name were welcomed by her, for before her time in Azkaban, the mention of his name caused enormous amounts of rage and hate--to the point, she lost herself and became as evil as she thought he was--it took Azkaban for her to see the truth. Sirius was broken and pathetic, and upon a year of reflection, Althea slowly began to feel sorry for him. However, the forgiveness Sister Margaret talked about was elusive to Althea. She would never forgive him.

"Yes, it has been some time," McGonagall replied, frowning thoughtfully. "How many years has it been since I've seen you last? Six?" she asked and Althea nodded. McGonagall sighed before she continued, "Your grandmother has left me completely ignorant of your whereabouts. Of course, she always kept me from you."

"Yes, Gran is the overprotective sort," Althea replied and sighed. "I am the only one she has left. She was never right after my father died...sort of touched in the head, you know," she explained and pointed to her temple.

"Even before," she remarked quietly. "Accused my sister Vesta of stealing you."

Althea produced a nervous laugh. "Oh, Auntie," she replied with an uncomfortable smile. "So, where could I--"

"Where have you been?" McGonagall interrupted, looking at Althea inquisitively.

Althea took a deep breath. "Where have I been?" she asked and bit her bottom lip.

It's already starting, she thought as McGonagall nodded with genuine interest. If there is anyone I won't be able to fool, it's McGonagall. Bloody hell, of all the people I have to first meet.

"Well, after Prudence passed, I spent my time as a Relief Healer in Transylvania," she explained, hoping to satisfy McGonagall's curiosity.

"Yes, yes, I knew about the Relief Healing," she replied plainly, waving her hand dismissively. "But after. You couldn't have spent all these years in Transylvania."

"No, no, I couldn't have," she replied quietly, looking at her shoes. "Well, I suppose--"

"Althea, you're here," Dumbledore interrupted, which caused Althea to jump slightly--she had not heard his entrance.

Both Althea and McGonagall turned their attention toward Dumbledore. "Oh hello, Headmaster," Althea replied with a weak smile. "I was just--"

"I'm glad to see you've made it safely from the Congo," he continued, looking at her from over his half-moon glasses.

"The Congo?" McGonagall asked, raising an eyebrow as she turned from Dumbledore to Althea--Althea smiled sheepishly.

Dumbledore placed his hand on Althea's arm. "Yes, I'm sure once she's settled Althea will tell us all about the headhunters, witch doctors, pirates, and all sorts of sordid things she encountered on her travels," he explained with a small smile as he ushered Althea from McGonagall.

Althea sighed with relief as Dumbledore guided her through the corridor. "Thank you, Headmaster. Clever with the Congo," she whispered as Dumbledore directed her toward a door.

Dumbledore stopped mid-turn of the doorknob. "Yes, I must say it was rather clever," he replied, smiling to himself. "I believe you'll be pleased with your office," he continued as he opened the door. "You might recognize a few of the articles."

The late summer sun cascaded through the large windows, highlighting the Muggle masks and paintings her father had acquired during his travels. Althea smiled as she walked toward her desk--her desk. She was a professor. I would never have imagined myself back at Hogwarts teaching, she thought, her fingers lazily stroking the rough grain of the ancient wooden desk. She paused for a moment, quietly laughed to herself, and directed her attention toward the bookcase behind the desk. A few of my father's books and travel journals that I have never seen before, she thought, her fingertips lightly touching the worn book bindings. Where did Dumbledore find these?

"Your father left those in my possession," Dumbledore answered, "I thought it was time they were returned to you."

Althea picked up a picture frame and smiled. "Thank you," she replied as she looked at the photograph of herself sitting between her parents. The young Althea squirmed and giggled as her parents kissed her cheeks. "Thank you very much."

"You've never seen that photograph before, have you?"

"No," she answered, stroking the side of her mother's face with her thumb. "It's been so long...I almost forgot what she looked like," she continued, slowly looking from the photograph to Dumbledore. "Sometimes, I wonder if my memories are real or if I've just imagined them--grasping at something, I suppose."

"It's not unusual to want to remember our loved ones," he replied, looking at Althea thoughtfully.

Althea placed the photograph on the shelf, and leaned her back against the bookcase. "Lily and I--while we were here--would try to imagine what you were like when you were around our ages," she began and laughed, rubbing her forehead. Althea folded her arms before she continued, "She thought--well, we thought--you had some clandestine, tragic love affair.... We were two very silly girls--our heads in romance books and not in our textbooks."

Dumbledore laughed as he studied Althea. "If I were to have a clandestine, tragic love affair, I'm sure all of Hogwarts would be informed of it," he replied and sighed deeply.

"It wouldn't be very clandestine, would it?" she asked, smiling.

Dumbledore smiled. "I believe you are wondering why I hired you," he began and Althea nodded. "I need you--not for your teaching abilities--you will make a fine teacher, but I need you to complete something for me.... I need you to complete your parents' work."

Althea lifted herself from the bookcase. "Their work? The work that brought about their deaths?" she asked, frowning slightly.

Dumbledore nodded. "Behind you are your parents' notes on the subject--"

"Headmaster, sir, I don't believe I am the one to complete it. I mean--"

"I believe you are the only one who can complete this work," he continued over Althea's protests. "You will be safe here. No one, but us know that the work still exists."

Althea was about to protest, but realized this was part of the deal. Her life was no longer her own, but belonged to Dumbledore. I have no choice, she thought, looking at the worn journals behind her. I have the rest of my life to complete their work, but why is this work so important? Anyone could complete this--why me?

"Once you begin reading the journals, you will discover the reason for its importance," he explained and walked toward the door. "It is some time before the feast. You have plenty of time to discover all that is in your office. However, we would enjoy your presence in the staffroom before the feast," he continued as he opened the door. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye," Althea murmured as she watched Dumbledore shut the door.

Althea looked back to her bookcase. Her stomach tightened and she took a deep breath as she touched one of the book bindings. Slowly, she slid the book forward, but thought better of it. Later, she thought, sliding the book back in its place. I don't want to further spoil my day.

***

"More wine?"

Althea held up her hand. "Oh no, no thank you," she replied, shaking her head. "I think one glass is fine, Professor Sinistra," she added, pointing to her glass.

Professor Sinistra laughed with an awkward loudness, induced by the wine. "Oh please, call me Berenice," she replied, pouring more wine for herself. "We're colleagues," she added, taking a sip from her glass.

"Right," Althea laughed nervously, placing her glass on the table next to her. "It will take time to grow accustomed to being allowed in the staffroom.... Well, legally, anyway."

Sinistra took another large sip of wine. "You, snuck in the staffroom?" she asked, her voice hoarse from the wine.

"Well, yeah," she answered, folding her arms. "It was ages ago when I attended, but we'd sneak in and steal a bottle or two of wine," she continued conspiratorially and motioned with her head to the door that led to the wine cellar.

Sinistra looked at the door to the wine cellar. "Really," she breathed, continuing to look at the door. "You're telling me that students, students broke those charms?" she asked, looking back to Althea.

"There weren't charms guarding the alcohol when I was a student," she replied and winked.

Suddenly, the staffroom door behind Althea opened and Sinistra rolled her eyes. "Let me introduce you to him," she murmured, frowning. "He spends all of his time in a dungeon so he's not the most socially adept."

"Oh, I don't mind," she replied, smiling nervously.

Another professor I have to meet, she thought, straightening her robes. I thought I met all of them, or maybe I haven't. I don't really remember. I'm tired of smiling.

"Oh, you will," Sinistra remarked and smiled to greet the newly arrived professor.

Althea turned to greet the new professor. Oh, I do mind, she thought, frowning. Snape's face paled as Sinistra pushed Althea forward to greet him. Snape had not changed. He was a little older, but still as sallow skinned and greasy as he was before. Althea wondered if he owned anything other than black.

"Severus, this is Althea Morrigan, the new Muggle Studies Professor," she explained and Althea did her best to nod respectfully. "Althea, this is Severus Snape, Professor of Potions," she continued and Severus did not nod. He stared at her--an awful sneer developing across his face.

Althea refused to hide her dissatisfaction any longer--she sighed and rolled her eyes. "I think I'll have another Pumpkin Pasty," she said curtly and walked toward the pastry table.

Althea took the largest Pumpkin Pasty and shoved half of it in her mouth. Of all the horrible, awful people I could have possibly worked with, this has to be the worst, she thought as she swallowed the large bite. Unbelievable Dumbledore would hire such a--a thing. To let that man around children to teach them...traumatize them more like it. What am I thinking? He hired me--well, I didn't apply, but still, she thought and popped the rest of the Pumpkin Pasty in her mouth. I wonder if other professors are atoning for past sins?

Althea felt Snape to her left and painfully swallowed the rest of the Pumpkin Pasty. "Snape," she said coolly, taking a piece of Professor Flitwick's Famous Fudge.

"Muggle Studies?" Snape sneered, pouring a glass of wine. "Flunked out of Healer Training, I see."

Althea's jaw tightened. "No," she said sharply, taking a bite of fudge. "I wanted a change of career."

"Or they asked you to change," he remarked, placing the cork in the bottle.

Althea quickly turned to face Snape. "Couldn't get the Defense Against the Dark Arts job so had to settle for Potions?" she replied and smiled as Snape's jaw twitched.

Snape shoved the cork further into the bottle. "It would be wise for you to keep your distance from me," he said, staring Althea down. "Stay out of my dungeon and we won't have a problem.... Of course, you'll spend most of your time in the boys' dormitories. Unfortunately for you, Morrigan, professors aren't allowed to spend the night."

Althea sighed and rolled her eyes. "You can be assured I will never go in your dungeon," she began, resting her hands on her hips. "But that's where they're keeping you now, is it? You were never one for the sun, were you now, Snape? Always afraid the grease in your hair would catch fire, I suppose."

Snape's eyes narrowed. "My, what a strong woman you've become," he began--his voice waspish. "Able to make remarks without the bully of a boyfriend behind you. Where is he now?" he continued, a maniacal gleam shown in his beady eyes. "Right, in Azkaban."

"He's only where you should be," she replied heatedly, the rest of the fudge crumbling in her hand.

Snape's face changed to one of grotesque triumph. "You think you have my character all mapped out, do you Morrigan? You're wrong again--as usual," he sneered, showing his uneven, yellowed teeth. "Just like you were wrong about Black. It cost you greatly, didn't it?"

Without hesitation, Althea grabbed a butter knife from the pastry table and held it to Snape's throat.

"What a lovely first impression to the rest of the faculty," he whispered, slightly leaning away from the knife.

Althea held the knife closer to his throat. "I'll slit your throat," she growled through her teeth.

Suddenly, to her left, she heard Dumbledore clear his throat. Placing the knife back on the table, she took out her wand.

"And that's when I was able to find my wand and blast the headhunter with a Stunner Spell," she continued and mimicked blasting Snape with a Stunner Spell.

"Oh," Flitwick gasped and Althea turned to see the rest of the faculty staring at the pair. "Scary stuff, the Congo."

Althea bit her lip as she placed her wand in her robe pocket. "You have no idea," she replied, blushing slightly.

"I believe the students have arrived," McGonagall said, standing.

"Ah, everyone," Dumbledore said happily, motioning toward the door.

Althea forced a smile as she allowed the rest of the faculty to leave before her. She turned to leave, thought better of it, and took another piece of fudge.

***

"You can do this Althea," she said aloud, looking at herself in her mirror. She made a determined face, but frowned. "Oh bloody hell, who am I fooling?" she lamented, resting her head against the mirror. "Remus is the professor, not me. Lily would have the biggest laugh at this," she murmured, and looked up toward the ceiling. "I hope you're laughing."

Sighing, she charmed the mirror smaller and placed it in her desk drawer.

"Right, papers, books, quills sharpened...I think everything is here," she said and closed her case. "Everything except my nerves."

Althea left her office and walked the corridor to her classroom, in her mind feverishly reciting the day's lesson plan. I'll introduce myself--nicely, of course. I won't say too much about myself because I have a tendency to babble when nervous--how does Remus do this? Anyway, I call the roll--that will take up time. Then, I'll ask their expectations for this class--more time gone unless they're shy...damn it, I'm here, she thought, looking at the large door that led to her classroom. Inside, third year students would be waiting for her, their faces transfixed on her as she would walk to her desk--she prayed she would not stumble. Althea took a deep breath as she placed her palm on the doorknob. You can do this, she thought, releasing her breath and opening the door.

The students sat at their desks, some with books opened, but all with parchment, ink, and quills, poised to begin the lesson and to take notes. Althea smiled slightly and placed her case on her desk. Doing her best not to frown at her trembling hands as she fumbled to open her case, Althea quickly glanced up to observe the students intently looking at her. What a brilliant way to start, she thought as her case finally opened--the top of the case slamming into the desk. Come on, Althea, calm yourself--they're thirteen. It's the first day and they're not expecting much. Muggle Studies has always been an easy class. Jane took it to catch up on the new editions of Witch Weekly and James and Sirius took it too catch up on sleep--wait, they took Divination for that, too. No, Muggle Studies was for skiving off because they'd lament and groan as they went past Arithmancy to get Remus's attention. Oh, they were so loud too when Remus would ignore them! Then I'd pretend to swoon and Remus would volunteer to take me to the hospital wing. Bloody hell, I'm stalling, she thought, placing her papers on her desk. Right, get on with it!

Althea cleared her throat as she leaned against the front of her desk. "Good morning," she said and the students murmured a lazy greeting. "Well," she continued, sitting atop the desk, which brought a gasp from a few of the students, "I'm Professor Althea Morrigan--oh, you won't need your quills today."

A number of students sighed gratefully and Althea smiled.

"You've probably done enough writing already," she remarked and some students nodded. "Potions, right? Two feet of parchment?"

"No," a blonde-haired boy grumbled, folding his arms, "two rolls."

Althea whistled at the amount. "Two rolls of parchment on the first day? He must have been in an awful mood," she replied, letting her feet kick against her desk. This was not so difficult. She had found something in common with them--a mutual dislike of Snape.

"No, he was in a very good mood, Professor," another boy with sandy blond hair said, twirling his quill across his desk.

More of the students started to murmur about how awful Snape was as a teacher. "All right, all right," Althea said, withholding her laughter, holding up her hands. "I think you should continue these conversations at lunch. I think I should call the roll to learn your names," she continued, reaching behind her for the roll. "Gryffindor...Hufflepuff...Ravenclaw...No, no Slytherin," she commented, looking at the parchment.

She slowly lifted her eyes to see shocked faces.

"It was sort of a joke when I was a student," she explained and the students laughed nervously. "Anyway, I suppose I could ask you to say your name and where you're from," she continued, which brought groans from a few of the students. "Don't worry, I'll start.... Well, I've already introduced myself as Althea Morrigan, and as you've probably guessed Morrigan isn't a Wizarding name--my grandfather was a Muggle. I spent my last few years as a Relief Healer--yes?" she asked, pointing to a redheaded girl with a raised hand.

"What is a Relief Healer?" she asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

"Oh, it is a special program for Healers to provide their services to remote areas. For example, I started as a Relief Healer in a remote village in Transylvania--"

"Whoa, cool," a boy with black hair blurted.

"Where else?" another boy with curly brown hair asked.

"The Congo and Egypt," she answered, smiling--no, this was not bad at all.

"I've been to Egypt," a girl with wavy, blonde hair said excitedly.

"Really, where?" Althea asked, leaning forward on her desk.

"Alexandria," she said proudly.

"I spent two years there. Remarkable library, don't you think? Pity Muggles think it destroyed," she remarked and smiled. "Oh, but enough of me. I'd like to know your names and where you're from. We'll start here," she continued, pointing to her right as the children groaned.

Althea listened and nodded with each introduction. However, the introductions did not take as long as she expected. Right, their expectations should consume the rest of the class, she thought as the last child finished his introduction.

"Fantastic," she said, clasping her hands. "Now, what are your expectations for this class? What do you expect to learn this year?" she asked and the students frowned thoughtfully. "Yes, Matthew."

Matthew furrowed his eyebrows. "To learn about electrikaty?"

"Excellent, you're very close. It's electricity," she explained and stood. "Here, I'll write it on the blackboard." Althea took a piece of purple chalk and wrote electricity on the blackboard. "You may want to write this down," she added, turning around; however, the children did not reach for their quills. "What's the matter?" she asked, furrowing her eyebrows. "Yes, James, right?"

The brown-haired boy nodded. "The professors usually use their wands to write," he explained, pointing to the wand sticking out of Althea's pocket.

"Right, they do. Good observation," she replied, smiling. "It is a Muggle Studies course, after all. Now," she continued, rolling the piece of chalk between her index finger and thumb, "this year you'll learn the basics--electricity, automobiles, items around a Muggle house, Muggle dress--those sorts of things. As you progress in this class, year by year, you'll learn Muggle music, literature, sport, etiquette--do any of you know how to use a telephone?"

The children shook their heads.

"It's a method of Muggle communication. You'll learn how to use one--possibly later this year," she explained, sitting atop her desk.

A black-haired girl raised her hand.

"Yes, Katherine."

"Will we learn about Muggle school?" she asked and bit her bottom lip.

"Of course," Althea replied and the girl smiled slightly. "I believe that is a great first assignment--oh, don't groan! I won't have you use any parchment! No, what I want you to do is think of classes a Muggle student your age might take," she said as the class quieted. "For example, all of you take Herbology--the study of magical plants. A Muggle student has a similar class: Botany--the study of nonmagical plants. So you see, you can start by looking at what you take and thinking of what they would take. I believe that if you have friends with Muggle siblings, they could help you with ideas. Be creative and don't worry if it's right or wrong. Next class, I will lecture on the sorts of classes Muggle students take.... I know you have enough work with that Potions essay."

The black-haired boy groaned.

"Oh, Vincent it's not that horrible...is it?"

"The properties of wormwood," he replied gruffly.

"It is," she replied, making a face the children laughed at. "Wormwood, third year? I don't believe I learned that until Healer training--oh! I think I might have given you a clue as to one of the properties," she explained with feigned innocence.

She fought a small smile as the children scrambled to write on their parchments.

"Please don't tell Professor Snape I helped you with your Potions essay. I dare say he wouldn't like that."

"We won't," Katherine replied happily.

"Good--oh the bell!" Althea replied with genuine relief. "Remember, just think of classes!" she said over the noise of students chatting and packing their bags.

She nodded and forced more smiles as the students filed out of her classroom. Alone, Althea observed her classroom--her classroom. The thought that she would be a teacher was still as preposterous as the day Gran told her. Sighing, she flung herself backwards onto her desk and covered her face with her hands. No, it was not as awful as she thought it would be--not as difficult as Snape had made Potions. Now I understand why James and Sirius skived off this class, she thought, stretching her legs out before her--her foot accidentally kicking a desk.

"What an absolutely useless class!" she lamented and groaned.

"Precisely why you teach it," she heard Snape say from the doorway.

Althea lowered her hands and looked at Snape. "Clever, but I think I'll apply for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position after Professor Winchester retires after this year--his heart, you know. I reckon I'll get it before you," she replied with feigned sweetness.

"Remembering your days at Hogwarts," he sneered, his eyes narrowing.

Althea laughed as she looked from side to side at the desk. "Why a desk when there are comfortable beds in the boys' dormitories? Honestly, do you have some sort of list you read off, or have you spent these ten years memorizing them?" she remarked, still reclining across her desk. "Very pathetic, even for you."

"Have you forgotten how to sit up?" he replied derisively, folding his arms.

Althea rolled her eyes. "No," she said, sitting up, "just demonstrating something you've never seen. Why are you still here?"

"The Headmaster would like a word with you before lunch," he answered, annoyed.

Althea sighed as she rubbed her temples with her fingertips. "Fine," she replied, "you can go now."

Without another word, Snape turned and left her classroom. Lord, give me the strength not to blast him across a corridor and into something incredibly sharp and metal, she thought, looking up toward the ceiling.