Confused Memories

Chapter 8

"Mac! C'mon, Mac, open up!" Harmon Rabb pounded on the door to his friend's apartment. A door opened down the hall. Seeing the familiar man, the woman said, "If you're looking for Sarah MacKenzie, she hasn't come home yet. I haven't seen her for nearly three weeks."

"Do you know where she went, ma'am?" Harm asked.

"I believe she went to London on vacation. She was supposed to have returned last week; maybe she decided to stay longer."

"Thank you, ma'am," Harm said. She smiled and closed her door.

Taking out his cell phone, Harm punched in a number.

"Commander Turner," a familiar voice answered.

"Sturge, buddy, how the hell are ya?" he asked.

"Harm?" Sturgis asked incredulously. "It's good to hear from you! So you're still up and flying, huh?"

"Yeah. I'm hoping to get back in the courtroom soon, though. But that's not why I'm calling. Have you seen Mac lately? I'm only in town for two days, and I wanted to see her."

"No, I haven't. She went on leave a few weeks ago. I think she was supposed to return last week. The Admiral's been walking around like a bear with a sore paw--he nearly scared Coates to death yesterday."

Harm sighed. "You think something's happened to her?"

"I hope not, Harm. Listen, buddy, I'll talk to you later. I have court in ten minutes."

"All right. Later, Sturgis." Harm turned off his cell. Eyes narrowing, he turned it back on and hit the speed dial.

"Webb."

"Webb, it's Rabb."

"Well, to what to I owe this honor?" Clayton Webb asked sarcastically.

"Mac's missing."

There was silence on the other end of the line for five seconds. Then Webb demanded, "What do you mean, 'missing'?"

"I mean that I called JAG, and no one's seen or heard from her for weeks. Mac isn't the type to go UA, either."

Webb sighed, "I know." He paused. Harm could practically hear the wheels turning in his head. "Well, I'll put out some calls and see if I can track her down, Rabb. Thanks." He hung up.

Harm stared at the phone in his hand. Clayton Webb just thanked him? That had to be one of the signs of the Apocalypse. Shrugging, he put the phone away.

---

Chapter 9

"Hurry, Sarah! The first years are going to be here any minute!" Hermione said, pounding on the door to Sarah's room.

On the opposite side of the door, Sarah waved her wand toward the door. It opened, allowing Hermione to slip inside. She looked around, taking in the décor. "Wow, Sarah. It seems you're taking inter-House cooperation a bit too seriously." Splashes of color decorated the walls--greens and blues interspersed with reds and yellows made Hermione feel she was standing inside a rainbow.

Sarah sighed. "Don't blame me. This was all Albus' doing. I'm still trying to figure out how to reverse it."

Hermione nodded sympathetically. "He does tend to overdo it, doesn't he? You should see what happens to the Great Hall at Christmas." The two witches sighed, both knowing that, with any luck, Sarah would be returning home by then. "Anyway, you really need to hurry."

"I don't know what to wear!" Sarah exclaimed.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Grabbing a robe, she said, "Here. Put this on."

"But you're wearing red."

"For Merlin's sake, Sarah, this isn't a beauty pageant! Fine. If you don't want to wear red, put the gold on." Sarah opened her mouth to argue. "You can wear the green tomorrow. Just get dressed!"

"Aye, aye, ma'am!" Sarah quipped. She turned to pick up her gold robe, and stopped in mid-reach. She put a hand to her temple.

Hermione frowned. "Sarah? Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm... that seemed familiar."

"What?"

"The 'aye-aye' part."

Hermione smiled. "See! I told you you would start remembering things soon! We can do some research tomorrow. Try to remember some other things while we're waiting. Now, let's go. Hagrid should be here with the first years by now."

Sarah slipped the robe over her head and grabbed her wand. "Okay. Let's go."

The two women made their way down the stairs of the Divination tower. As they approached the Great Hall, the noise level increased dramatically. Sarah bit her lip. "Hermione--I don't know if I can do this."

"Of course you can. Come on, come on," Hermione said impatiently. "You've been doing fine in your practice sessions. I've learned more about Divination in five days than I did my entire time at Hogwarts." She grinned. "Of course, that could be because I dropped out before the end of my third year..." Sarah smiled. She had laughed hysterically when Hermione and Harry had told her about Sibyll Trelawney's horrible teaching methods, and how Hermione had staged a one-student mutiny.

Hermione ushered Sarah into the Great Hall and to their seats at the staff table. Sarah looked out on the faces of the students and felt faint. She took a deep breath. She could do this. She could. She had stood before large crowds before and taken charge... What? Wait...

Before Sarah could focus on the fleeting memory, the wide double doors of the Great Hall opened. Professor McGonagall marched in, a gaggle of frightened, soaking-wet first years following her.

Sarah sat and watched, riveted, as the students put on the Sorting Hat and it called out the House in which they would reside for the next seven years. "We didn't have anything like this at Salem," Sarah whispered to Hermione.

Hermione, applauding a new Gryffindor, nodded absently. "I read in Hogwarts, A History that the American schools wanted to go their separate ways from the European schools. It didn't have much other information about it, though."

At the end of the Sorting, Dumbledore stood to greet the students. Sarah smiled fondly at the aged wizard. Eccentric he may have been, but he was a powerful wizard, both in magic and in mind. She snapped out of her musings as she heard Albus say, "I would like to introduce our new Divination teacher, Sarah MacKenzie. She has come from the United States to replace our own dear Professor Trelawney for the term."

"Stand up, Sarah," Hermione hissed. Sarah did as she was told. She smiled at the seated students. The whispering started immediately. Then the students--particularly the older males--began whistling and clapping. Sarah grinned in relief and sat.

"Yes, thank you all." The noise stopped almost immediately when Albus spoke. "I am certain you are all hungry, so--let our feast begin!" Food appeared on the tables, and Albus sat.

"Are you feeling better about this, Sarah?" Hermione teased.

"Much," Sarah smiled. This wouldn't be so bad after all.

****

The next day, Sarah was reconsidering that thought. Her first class started in ten minutes, and she was a nervous wreck. She took a deep breath. She could do this. It wasn't that difficult. Not as hard, say, as defending a murderer...

Her eyes widened, and she dashed to her desk. Grabbing a quill and parchment, she dipped the quill in a bottle of ink and scribbled down her flash of memory--if, in fact, that was what it had been.

Okay. Class. Sixth-years of all Houses. She could do this. She made her way up the stairs and into the classroom.

She smirked as the watched the students looked around in shock. She had removed the poufs and low round tables, and replaced them with regular long tables and stools, similar to the ones they used in Charms or Transfiguration. The wispy pastel curtains were gone, as well. Instead, she had put up curtains in vibrant jewel tones--ruby, emerald, sapphire, topaz. She closed the door and cleared her throat. The students turned around to peer at their new professor.

"Please take your seats," Professor MacKenzie instructed. The students did so, whispering amongst themselves.

"I realize that you are following a curriculum. However, I would like to remind you that as sixth years, you have chosen of your own free will to take this course. Therefore, you believe yourselves to have some aptitude for the subject. I would like to give you a little test today." She smiled, then asked, "What is the most important part of Divination?" The students sat at their tables, confused. "Well? Take out a quill and a piece of parchment. You have thirty minutes to compose your answer." There was a mass scrambling for bags, and then the soft scratching of quills.

Sarah sat at her large oak desk, studying each student. It seemed that the students had separated themselves similar to the way they had in the Great Hall. The two Slytherins sat at the far side of the room, near the windows. The three Ravenclaws were next to them, then the two Hufflepuffs. On the other side, nearest the door, was a lone Gryffindor. His head was bent low, and he was scribbling away. Sarah smiled slightly. The fabled Gryffindor courage that Hermione had been talking about, she supposed. Not many students would be brave enough to take a class away from their friends--especially this particular subject. Even when she was a student, Divination had been ridiculed.

Setting his quill down, the young man looked up at Sarah. Blushing slightly, he looked away shyly. Sarah smiled and stood.

"Are you finished, Mr...?"

"Benjamin McCoy, Professor." He spoke with a slight Irish brogue.

"Mr. McCoy." Sarah took his parchment and walked back to the desk. Scanning the writing, she nodded.

Five minutes later, she looked at her class and said, "Time's up. That means stop writing, Miss Jameson." The Ravenclaw reddened slightly.

"Accio parchment!" Sarah said. The rolls of parchment flew at her, and she caught them in her arms. Setting the rolls on her desk, Sarah said, "Very good. You've all written something about Divination." Sarah picked one essay from the pile. "Okay, first thing--I don't want to have to cast a Translation Charm each time I grade papers. This means you need to write neatly. If I can't read it, it gets sent back. And considering the amount of writing you'll be doing, I don't suggest you have a paper sent back more than once." The students groaned at this announcement, and Sarah continued, "Secondly, I realize that many of you feel this is an easy course, one that you could pass with your eyes closed. However, I take this very seriously, and I refuse to teach a student who does not. Divination can be a very dangerous subject. Not in the way that, say, Potions is--but dangerous in the mind." Sarah's face became shadowed for a moment. "If you do have any talent in this field, it can be very difficult, indeed. So I ask you, if you do not plan to work hard at this, to please leave now. It will not be held against you if you do." The Ravenclaws straightened in their chairs. Sarah remembered Hermione's advice. 'If you give a Ravenclaw an intellectual challenge, he'll refuse to back down. Hufflepuffs are loyal; once they start something, they will finish it. The Gryffindors--well, you know I don't like to speak ill of my own House, but Gryffindors tend to be a bit more flighty. They're there for you in a tight spot, but they don't like to focus long-term. Slytherins... well, don't get me started on that subject.'

Sarah looked around. No one had moved. "Good. Well, then, I would like to begin. What have you gone through with Professor Trelawney?"

One of the Ravenclaws raised his hand. "Mr. Yarrow?"

"We've done tea leaves, scrying, crystals, omens, and dream interpretation."

"Thank you. Five points to Ravenclaw. Now, have you covered anything useful?" The class stirred. "Yes, you heard me correctly. Have you done anything that is helpful? Have any of you actually Seen anything?" Confusion showed on the students' faces. Benjamin sank down in his seat, in the way of students everywhere who do not wish to be called upon.

"Quiet, please!" The teenagers settled down, and Sarah continued with her lecture. "I didn't think so." She sighed. This would be a long, hard trek. "Please be prepared to take notes during our next class. Leave your books behind; I will have what you need here. Your homework for tonight is to write six inches on what you would like to cover this term. Dismissed." The class stood in unison, chattering. "Mr. McCoy? Would you stay behind for a moment, please?" The dark-haired boy hung back from the crowd.

"Can I help you, Professor?" Ben asked curiously.

Sarah picked up his parchment. "This is an excellent essay, Mr. McCoy. You are right--self-control is the most important part of the Sight. Not many people realize this, especially at your age." Ben blushed furiously. "I'd like to perform an experiment." Handing the boy her quill, she asked, "What do you see?"

He closed his eyes. "A woman. She's sitting by a window. It's raining. A man bursts into the room. She turns around--" he stopped an opened his eyes. "That all I can see."

Sarah smiled reassuringly. "That's a lot for a first try. Don't worry." She paused, then asked, "Do you have any other Seers in your family?"

Ben's eyes became shuttered. "My great-grandfather was." He refused to say any more.

Sarah nodded. "We'll work on it. Don't worry; we'll get your Sight under control." He looked up, startled. She smiled.

"You may go to your next class now." She wrote something on a spare scrap of parchment. "Here's a note. I don't think Professor Flitwick will mind your being a few minutes late."

"Thank you, Professor," Ben said. He started toward the door.

"Oh, and fifteen points to Gryffindor," Sarah added. The boy grinned broadly and hurried down the stairs.

Sarah sat back in her chair and sighed. Then she groaned. Third-year Ravenclaws were arriving. "Enter," she called to the assembled group outside the classroom.