Orion's Pointer

AN: Naturally, JKR owns all characters, except the ones I've invented. I've tried to keep this as canon to Goblet of Fire as possible, with which this story runs parallel.

~*~

Dumbledore paused for a second in the middle of writing the last note to look up at the silver-haired figure standing a few feet to his left; she'd not moved since he'd started writing almost fifteen minutes ago. She seemed to find the phoenix fascinating, and why shouldn't she? Few people, even in the wizarding world, had seen such a bird in their lives. For her, this was a mythology come to life right before her, and her eyes gleamed in barely-concealed excitement, mouth slightly open.

Fawkes seemed to share her innocent curiosity. He'd been flicking his head from side to side to look at her, first with one eye, then the other, his crimson and gold crest bobbing. Only due to their long partnership did Dumbledore know that Fawkes was amused about something. He shook his head slightly; the bird had the strangest sense of humour at times.

Sighing, the Professor went back the letter before him. His quill scratched away at the parchment, breaking the near silence of his office. The sun had not been up for more than an hour, and there was still a chill in the air that the small fire under the mantel had not been able to completely dispel.

Dumbledore signed the parchment with a flourish and then leaned back in his chair, waiting whilst the ink dried--it gave him time to think about the day ahead. He tapped a finger on his desk. There was still some doubt in his mind with regard to the woman's presence at the school, but in times such as these, choices were in short supply. They must make do with what options they did have. He nodded to himself. The timing was awful, though.

"He's so beautiful. I've seen them in books, but I had no idea!"

Dumbledore looked up, smiling, just in time to see Fawkes puff out his chest feathers. "He is pleased that you think so," he replied, his eyes twinkling in repressed laughter. Fawkes loved to be admired. It was the bird's only conceit.

The woman turned her face towards the Professor with a delighted expression, the two long locks of silvery hair on either side of her face swinging gently with the movement. "You can communicate with him?" she asked, surprised.

Dumbledore began to fold up the parchment on his desk. "In a fashion," he admitted. "We couldn't discuss the finer points of Wizengamot legislation, but we do have a reasonably good understanding of what the other is thinking."

The woman pursed her lips thoughtfully and turned back to Fawkes who was elegantly ruffling his feathers for her attention. Gathering up the small pile of letters before him, Dumbledore stood and walked around his desk.

"I see that you have been given school robes. I do hope that they will not make you feel too uncomfortable."

The woman gave a little start and turned towards him. Fawkes made a grizzling noise at the loss of his rapt audience.

"Enough concession has already been made for me," she pointed out, brows slightly raised. "It would be churlish of me to baulk at wearing at least some item of standard uniform." She held out her arms and billowed the black material about. "Somewhat looser in cut than I am used to. I think I shall trip over them a few times before I get used to them." She smiled at the Professor. "But then, I always was a bit clumsy."

"I find that hard to believe," Dumbledore chuckled as he handed her the sealed letters. She looked through them and at the names on the front, a slight crease appearing between her brows. The Professor placed his hands on her shoulders. "You'll do fine," he assured her. "However, if you prefer, I can hold off your participation until tomorrow, until after I have a talk with the teachers."

She looked back up at him quickly. "No," she said firmly. "No, it's best that they see me as just a late-starting student, nothing more. Of course, that may not be possible. I am noticeably older than the other students, and from what I understand, there have been less than a dozen mature-age students here in the last fifty years. I'm almost certain none were of my kind. Questions are going to be asked before the day is out."

"Then we shall deal with them as they arise," said Dumbledore confidently.

"The situation is not ideal," she told him. "No one is more aware of that than I, and I realise that I have caused you great inconvenience." She tapped the wad of letters against an open palm. "Perhaps I can stay in the background as much as possible until your overseas visitors arrive, and by then I'll be old news. However, it's been many years since I've been in an educational institution. I am hard to wrangle at the best of times," she admitted wryly, "but I will do my utmost to... fit in." She seemed not to like that possibility, if the down-turned shape of her mouth was anything to go by. "So much for stealth."

"People may simply be curious as to the reason for your presence, but you'll find that they'll be most welcoming. I have utmost trust in all my staff." He dropped his hands from her shoulders and walked back to his chair. He didn't sit, but turned back as if a thought had just occurred to him. "The students may not be so circumspect in questioning you, but I'm sure you can handle it. Children blithely ask questions that others might hesitate to."

The woman tilted her head to one side. "Ah. Not to worry. I've dealt with difficult questions before, Professor! Or should I say, Headmaster."

~*~

The day was turning out to be one of the most intolerable he'd had for some time, and that was saying something. Between exercising phenomenal willpower to not shout at the first-year students for being so impossibly inept, delivering a blistering lecture to his NEWT students for shoddy assignment work that'd be lucky to scrape pass-marks, and having most of the second-year class wasted by one of the students breaking out in pus-filled boils after knocking over their cauldron and having to be taken to the infirmary, it was a miracle that his teeth hadn't splintered from all the grinding.

Snape's jaw tightened reflexively. There was still one teaching session to go, a double at that, and he had no doubt it was bound to be the worst of the lot. It was almost a given that Longbottom would manage to concoct some liquid monstrosity that would have everyone fighting to get out of the classroom before they passed out from the noxious fumes.

As he stalked along the corridor to the classroom, he had only the vaguest awareness of students scurrying to get out of his way before he mowed them down, either with his boots or with his tongue. A couple of teachers who were heading off to their own teaching commitments gave him a wide berth--Flitwick even about-faced and disappeared back into the room he'd just exited with astonishing speed, slamming the door behind him.

Word of the Potions master's approach had managed to travel sufficiently to clear the corridors ahead, and he traversed the final stretch to the dungeons without seeing another soul. Barging the door open to the classroom, he swept in, already drawing breath to let loose a diatribe on the assembled students.

"I cannot even begin to describe my disappointment at yesterday's efforts to create a simple yet successful Purging Draught. You have all outdone yourselves and dropped my expectations of your abilities to an all-time low." He grabbed a battered book off the bookcase as he stormed past and slammed it onto his desk with an ear-splitting crack in order to punctuate this opening statement in dramatic fashion.

"I have no intention of suffering the disgrace of having an entire class fail their end of year exams," he hissed, "yet despite my best efforts, that is exactly the result that you are all charging towards with reckless abandon!" He hooked a small cauldron out from the equipment cupboard with a long finger and smashed it down on his desk next to the textbook, putting a rather sizeable dent in the wood.

"Since you have proven yourselves incapable of handling even a simple potion without bungling it, I find myself forced to dumb it down for you even further." Ripping open the ingredients cupboard, Snape snatched out several bottles and a couple of pouches of dried animal viscera and swept back to his desk.

"It would be beneficial, and indeed something that would stun me rigid, if you all paid attention to what I am doing instead of allowing your minds to wander off to whatever distorted reality you currently find more worthwhile than your studies." He curled his lip, only just warming up for what was shaping up to be a truly magnificent rant, and flicked his eyes up at the students. It was only at that point that he realised that no-one was paying any attention to him.

Few things were able to stop him when he had the bit between his teeth, but this certainly qualified as one of them. Snape blinked in mild surprise. None of the students had noticed the pause in the verbal tirade. Every head was turned towards a figure seated slightly left of centre of the room. He blinked again. The woman was completely unfamiliar to him. Older than the students around her, she was of a comparable height, at least whilst seated. Silver grey hair framed a slightly rounded face, with two locks at least half a span in width falling to a level below the table in front of her. The rest, shorter at two hands length, was arranged in a somewhat messy mane behind her head. She was the only one in the room looking at him.

"Who are you?" he asked bluntly.

The woman did not answer straight away. If anything she seemed slightly surprised at his question. She pursed her lips before answering. "Chara Parr...sir."

"What are you doing here?" he snapped, irritated at this unexpected obstacle to the completion of his tirade. A vein in his temple started to pulse. Past experience told him that it heralded a skull-crusher of a headache. His shit of a day would be complete when that came home to roost.

The woman had risen from her seat and was heading towards him, a letter clutched in her hand. The heads of the students swivelled to follow her. Now that she was out from behind the table, he saw that her two long tresses reached down to hip-level. She was short for her apparent age, but not abnormally so. Still, there would be a number of students in the class taller than her at only half her years.

"I was told to give you this, Professor." She proffered the letter as she stopped two feet in front of him, the desk barring her way.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Longbottom, who, in his usual subtle style, had his mouth hanging open stupidly. Snape's irritation deepened.
"Longbottom, close your mouth or I shall stuff something in it--probably that disgusting mess you brewed yesterday!" The boy's jaw clicked shut.

Parr still held the letter out, head tilted to one side and one eye squinted half-closed as if studying him. Now that she was closer, he could see a faint scar running from her hairline down across her left eye and stopping just short of her ear. Part of the eye's iris was misted; the injury had obviously scratched the surface of the eye itself. She'd been lucky not to lose her sight in that eye. Whilst the scar was faint, it looked deep--something caused by a very sharp object.

Scowling, Snape plucked the letter out from her grasp and looked at the handwriting on the front. He grunted, recognising the style, and looked back at her. He thought he'd seen the corners of her mouth twitch up, but there was no evidence of it on her face now. She stood, waiting, her round eyes fixed on his. People didn't usually stare at him. His manner customarily had others averting their gaze. Black bored into grey as he opened the letter.

"Next time, Miss Parr, I would appreciate it if you could hand me important missives before the class begins," he instructed in a silky voice. There was a collective intake of breath from the rest of the class. They recognised that tone as a forerunner to some spectacular unpleasantness from the Potions master. "I dislike being interrupted."

His rebuke seemed to have no discernable effect on Parr, other than an almost imperceptible lifting of her eyebrows. "Yes, sir. I'll be sure to remember that next time." She backed away a few steps and then turned to reclaim her seat. The other students continued to gawk.

"Page two hundred and twelve," he barked at them, "is what you should all be staring at. This time, try actually reading and comprehending what is written there and perhaps you will not botch today's lesson the way you did yesterday's!" As the class fumbled about with their books, he read through the letter.

The bearer of this letter, Chara Parr, has been granted a place at Hogwarts as a student. I apologise for the late notification and trust that she will not disrupt your class more than is necessary. Her tutors have informed me of her approximate skill level in your subject, but you are at liberty to reassign her to a different year-level class at your discretion.

Should you have any concerns, I will be more than happy to speak to you at the closure of the day's teaching.

Albus Dumbledore

Snape stuffed the letter in his pocket. Tutors? Was she some pureblood that had refused entry to Hogwarts at the usual age? It was rare that it happened, but not unheard of. However, her age appeared to be that of one who would ordinarily have passed through a tertiary educational institution and spent a handful of years in her chosen career already. That she was here, now, made Snape wonder why she would have returned to a high school level.

Would it be expected that she would receive special treatment? He huffed and folded his arms, glaring at his new student, determined that he would disabuse her of that notion as soon as possible. Although she had donned a school robe, the rest of her attire was certainly not standard issue Hogwarts uniform. Instead of a jumper, she had on a high-collared jacket fastened all the way up which almost hid what looked like a material binding around her neck. A bandage? Snape couldn't get a good enough look at it to determine. Unlike the other girls in the class, Parr wore charcoal grey trousers that stopped some inches short of her ankles in folded cuffs, and a pair of black, tight-fitting boots. At least the colours were similar to that of a Hogwarts uniform. Still, it was a mark of favouritism that her attire differed. This, coupled with her late arrival three weeks into the start of term, suggested that there were different expectations surrounding this student. Snape considered making a comment about it to her, but until he discovered the specifics of her circumstances, it might be unwise.

The other members of the class were starting to fidget, so it was time to get the lesson underway. He went through each stage of yesterday's lesson in painful detail, slipping in snide comments wherever possible. Perhaps guilt would force them to try harder, or even simply try. Situations like this were truly insufferable...idiot students stumbling about through the subject as if their brains had been removed.

Other staff members waxed lyrical on the "joys of teaching", harped on about the satisfaction of seeing their students flourish under their tutelage and clucked on incessantly about the bright futures they saw expanding in front of them. Such conversations had him staring in wide-eyed amazement in such a way that he was often asked if he was feeling alright. Flitwick was the worst; he let his students get away with all sorts of nonsense and they loved him for it.

"I want each of you to take a good look at what this Purging Draught is supposed to look like, and you'll notice that the abominations you created yesterday bear no resemblance whatsoever," Snape sneered and swept away from his desk. The students trudged disconsolately up to peer at the desired end result, spirits already flagging. Granger was the only one who seemed even remotely confident, but then her arrogance knew no bounds. Parr actually looked genuinely interested at the creation, but then she hadn't attended the previous class, so she didn't have the nervous disposition of the others as they scuttled back to their desks. He noticed that she paused longer than the others, sticking her head over the cauldron and taking a tentative sniff. Judging from the way she screwed up her mouth, she found the smell no less disgusting than most. Often the Purging Draught had the desired effect without even being taken internally. The threat alone of having to take a measure of it had people's digestive tracts clenching violently. Having to teach this class gave Snape the same sensation sometimes.

"Don't pair up with the same person you did yesterday," he snapped as the class started to segregate. "Perhaps different combinations will yield better results. Longbottom, you pair up with Miss Parr this time. I'm not sure Thomas could handle you trying to asphyxiate him again." He heard Malfoy snigger loudly.

Parr glanced about, trying to place a face to the name of her assigned partner. Longbottom crept towards her sheepishly, shoulders rounded forward defensively. She smiled encouragingly at him and he perked up a little. Snape smirked. Let's see how long that lasted. Longbottom's ineptness had the most patient of people tearing their hair out after ten minutes.

Ten minutes later however, Longbottom was chortling behind his hand over something that Parr had been whispering to him, and for a wonder their cauldron wasn't belching black acrid smoke. He quirked an eyebrow and rubbed a finger and thumb together, considering. Parr was handling being paired with the worst student in the class better than he had expected. Someone else would have to face his ire this time. Automatically he stalked over to Potter and Weasley, confident that they'd be struggling.

Snape had just begun to berate Weasley for not chopping his dried pokeweed roots finely enough when he heard a squawk behind him. Turning round he saw a red-faced Malfoy kneeling on the ground with his arm twisted painfully in Parr's grasp. She wasn't even looking at Malfoy, but her fist was clamped firmly around his wrist.

"Is there a problem, Miss Parr?" Snape understated, gliding towards Malfoy's crouched form.

Parr looked up from her cauldron in mild surprise. "No, Professor." Longbottom was gaping like a fish again, his eyes flicking between Parr, Snape and Malfoy.

"Then perhaps you can explain why Mr Malfoy is grubbing about on the floor with his wrist in your grasp." As if on cue, Malfoy started to squawk again.

Parr stared straight at Snape, eyes innocently wide. "Mr Malfoy and I are currently experiencing a disagreement, Professor."

"Do you usually solve disagreements by trying to break someone's wrist, Miss Parr?" The woman twitched her head to one side, obviously catching his tone but displaying no abashment. He loomed closer. "It would be advisable to let go of him before something regrettable happens."

"I would be happy to, Professor, as soon as Mr Malfoy opens his hand."

Snape widened his eyes. "Detention on your first day doesn't auger well for the rest of the year, Miss Parr. I suggest you let go of him now!"

Parr merely continued to stare at him with that mildly surprised expression. Malfoy was desperately trying to lever her fingers off his wrist with his other hand. His trapped hand was clenched shut in a white-knuckled ball.

"Miss Parr, I am not in the habit of repeating-" He saw her fingers tighten and Malfoy yelped like a kicked dog as his wrist bones ground audibly against each other. The boy's tortured hand popped open, dropping something on to the floor. A second later, Malfoy hit the floor as well, cradling his now-free yet mangled wrist.

Everyone except Parr looked down at the object Malfoy had dropped. It was an innocuous-looking shrivelled lump that could easily have passed as a piece of twig.
"Mr Malfoy seemed to think that our potion needed something extra added to it," Parr explained calmly. "I disagreed."

Snape's mouth compressed into a thin line. Much as it pained him even to admit it to himself, Parr had done them a favour by stopping Malfoy from putting that piece of desiccated streeler into the cauldron. Everyone in the room within a ten foot radius would have been vomiting explosively for some hours.

Snape grabbed Malfoy by the collar, hauled him up off the floor and propelled him towards the door.

"Go to the infirmary," he hissed. "Anything that's broken, get it fixed!" He slammed the door behind the troublemaker. The rest of the class had frozen into tense, shoulder-raised positions, visibly dreading what might happen next but perversely intrigued nonetheless.

"Anyone not attending to their work will find themselves responsible for losing house points," he threatened. Everyone suddenly decided to stare very hard at their cauldrons. Hooking Longbottom's collar with his finger, he pulled the boy aside and stood right in front of Parr, who was sniffing at her cauldron, oblivious to the wizard-shaped thundercloud.

"You, however, Miss Parr, will not be escaping punishment for disrupting the class." His eyes searched the left side of her robes. Instead of a house shield there was only the Hogwarts crest. "What house are you in?"

She looked up, rubbing under her nose with one finger. "I haven't been assigned to one."

Was she being obtuse? He waited a few seconds to see if she would suddenly "remember". She just stared at him; she seemed to do that a lot.

"Detention will have to suffice, then," he countered smoothly. "Quite an achievement for your first day, wouldn't you say?" Parr's face remained impassive. He swept back to Weasley to finish chastising the boy for his shoddy knifework.

What remained of the lesson time passed without further drama. Fortunately there was noticeable improvement on the previous day's efforts, so today was ending slightly better than he had forecast. Even Potter and Weasley's potion proved passable, although the consistency left something to be desired. Goyle had struggled on as best his could with Malfoy still in the infirmary, just narrowly avoiding an Unacceptable. Snape passed silent judgement on Longbottom and Parr's effort-- only petulance would give them less than Acceptable grade. Parr paid him no attention whatsoever. She was scratching out some notes in a workbook, but she seemed to be having trouble with her quill.

"I want a sample of each of your potions on my desk and your equipment cleared away before you leave," he instructed, leaning against a column with his arms folded. "Additionally, on my desk no later than tomorrow, six inches of parchment on why your individual attempts yesterday went wrong and the possible consequences to a recipient of such a poorly-brewed potion." The students scurried to comply so they could exit as quickly as possible. Parr was talking to Longbottom earnestly, her hand on his arm. The boy looked confused--probably wondering why his arm bones weren't being broken--but then that was a frequent expression for him. He nodded vehemently at Parr and was rewarded with a smile that Snape didn't think that Parr was capable of: it was all dimples and white teeth. The boy blushed like an idiot and busied himself with tidying as Parr labelled their sample flask. Snape thought he lip-read a swear word as she struggled with her quill again, but she was already moving to his desk to deliver the flask. Longbottom shot out of the room before anyone else, and Parr wasn't going to be that far behind him. Stuffing her workbook and quill into her bag, she turned to follow the other members of the class.

"I sincerely hope you haven't forgotten your detention, Miss Parr."

She stopped three feet from the door. The other students flowed around her, picking up their speed as if to avoid any overspill of unpleasantness. Her head turned slowly in his direction.

"I expect you to be here straight after dinner," he announced. Her eyebrows drew down and her lips thinned in blatant irritation. She went to turn away again. "Next time I see you in here, you hair is to be tied back instead of draping near an open flame. It's worse than Granger's." Snape didn't bother to see the effect that statement had on her before pushing away from the column and drifting over to his desk. The heavy classroom door slammed with gusto in response.

~*~

A/N: Many thanks to my beta, froggie_becky, who was both encouraging and swift. Feedback appreciated.