Our American Cousin

V

Confucius Says: A Full Course Load Is Road to a Full Heart.

"Good morning class, and welcome to seventh year Transfiguration." Sara looked over her new head of house. The women looked, in Sara's mind, the way a witch is suppose to look-pointy hat and all. Very few of her own teachers wore "traditional" clothing. Nice pants and a stylish blouse were more the norm at NewMexMagic. "This year we are going to be preparing you for your NEWTs. This means remembering everything you've learned to date. I expect your transfigurations to be quick and flawless, with extra attention paid to the small details." There were collected groans and moans about the room. "Now, a quick test to see if you did your summer reading." Most students blanched a little. "Take your quills and change them into birds, but set them to automatically change back after one minute."

Sara had thumbed through the textbooks while on the plane, and had realized that she was about two years ahead in Transfiguration, and at least a year ahead in what passed for Charms. She did, however, have to borrow a quill from the young man next to her, as she had brought a nice collection of ball point pens to Hogwarts rather than the standard quill. Once the quill was procured she quickly produced a small crow, which began eyeing Hermione. Harry produced a strange white raptor (of a variety that never existed), while Draco created a nasty looking vulture that changed back a little too quickly.

Professor McGonagall shook her head, but after many years of teaching, she was rather unsurprised. Most of the students had other things on their mind than summer homework. Her eyes kept seeking out students that weren't there. Some hadn't survived. Some had been pulled from school. And some had joined the ranks of Voldemort, throwing their lot in with the side that looked to be on top. Truth be told, she was still rather surprised to see Draco Malfoy. She had been more surprised when early in the summer, Filch had opened the door to Hogwarts to find Draco standing there, luggage and dignity in place. For several days, he had moved silently around Hogwarts like an old man. She had seen Snape move like that, after taking a long Crucio from Voldemort, for some imagined slight.

From what she had witnessed at the feast last night, the remaining Slytherins either clung to Draco like a life net of rebellion, or shunned him completely. Minerva couldn't help but wonder how long it would take before Severus found himself scraping someone's insides off the wall of the Slytherin common room.

Minerva McGonagall's attention was dragged back by the sound of most of the birds turning back, and Neville desperately trying to catch his pidgeon. At least the exchange student seemed to be up to par. But she couldn't help but wonder at Albus's logic of inviting an exchange student, in a year when the chance of Hogwarts getting directly attacked was stronger than ever.

Professor Severus Snape scanned across the 7th year Gryffindors and Slytherins. The class was small, in part because he only accepted top students into his NEWTs prep course, and because many of the Slytherins who should have been there, weren't. There was only a handful of Gryffindors who dared this course. One, of course, was that Granger girl. Snape would have liked nothing more than to throw her out, except she had the highest honest Potions grade in the room. Another Gryffindor was the new student who had raised a glass to him the previous night. Front row center was Draco Malfoy, looking somehow smaller than he should have without the presence of his two thuggish bodyguards. The families of Crabbe and Goyle had not felt the need to return two potential front-line Death Eaters to school. Not that Severus particularly cared. He cast his eyes over the newest addition to the class one more time. She had dark hair, a dark complexion, and dark eyes that seemed nearly unreadable.

"I am going to make the assumption," Snape started, "that none of you, with the possible exception of Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy, actually did your summer reading. Too bad. This is about to be the hardest year of your life. Take out your quills and begin taking notes. Today we will be making the Silitans skin stripping potion." Snape began writing the ingredients on the board as he lectured. The skin stripper was actually a fairly easy potion, it just involved huge quantities of the ingredients. He paused as he noticed a hand rise in the corner of his eye. "Yes, Miss Todacheenie?" Sara paused for less than a heartbeat.

'If you think that you're going to put me off guard by actually pronouncing my name right, you've got another thing coming,' she thought. "Professor, I was wondering if it would be feasible to substitute the Eluder Bluder plant with a Zapata bladder pod, seeing as how they are in the same genus and possess similar anti-carcinogenic properties?" Snape blinked twice and Sara took it as a cue to continue. "Especially seeing as how this is a low magic potion, and the Zapata bladder pod is a far more common plant. Also, does this potion work in a similar way to the Betorns skin stripper? Or are we talking about two different animals here?" Snape considered his answer for a moment. He could have thrown her out for being impertinent, but it was certainly a valid question.

"Having never encountered a Zapata bladder pod, I would not know the exact answer to that question, however it is unadvisable to substitute any potion ingredient without extensive testing first. As for your second question, Betorns skin stripper is an illegal instrument of torture, where as the Silitans skin stripper is a cleaning agent that will remove the first layer of skin, taking any skin-borne infections with it." Sara gave a nod and turned back to her note-taking. "One point to Gryffindor for an intelligent question." Sara looked up, and for a quick moment caught Snape's eye. In the classroom, you could have heard a pin drop, and in the depths of hell, the damned swore a single snowflake fell from a burning sky.

Flitwick always liked to see new wands. He managed to get his hands on every wand that came through the school. As Charms teacher, he had to know what kind of wands the students were using. He looked at the American girl who had seemed to have teamed up with Potter and his gang. He had recently read an interesting article on some of the things Americans had been doing with wands the last decade or so, and was rather hoping that this girl would have one of the newer styles that he could examine. He desperately tried to remember her last name from the feast. Looking at his roll sheet, he realized that he had not the slightest notion as to how to pronounce it correctly. He'd just have to be on a first name basis with her. From what he'd heard, that seemed to be common in American schools.

"Sara." Sara looked up from her class book to the tiny professor at the sound of her name.

"Yes, Professor?"

"Might I weigh your wand?" Sara gave a moment of hesitation. She had yet to meet a Charms teacher that didn't love to get their hands on new wands, but at the same time Sara hated handing hers over. 'Play nice' a small voice in the back of her mind that sounded surprisingly like her mother whispered. Sara put on a bright smile that never quite reached her eyes.

"Certainly professor." Sara approached the front of the room, and gently placed the reddish piece of wood into Flitwick's gnarled hands. Looking closely Flitwick found it to be covered in the finest woodburning work he'd seen. Most European wizards did not decorate their wands as such, but he heard it was quite common among Chinese and Siberian wizards. However, these markings did not seem to be from either place. They had an oddly geometric quality to them.

"My my my. This is interesting."

"Custom made by my grandfathers," Sara volunteered.

"Oh, it is nice. Family made wands often bond so much closer than even the best bought one. Would you tell the class what it is?"

"It's made of heartwood of a still living redwood."

"That's a very resistant wood. Good for high energy magic. Not found in Europe much. What's the core?"

"Powdered eagle stones..." Sara mumbled. Flitwick's breath caught, and he dropped the wand as if it burned. Sara caught it mid-fall. "Willfully given," she added.

"Oh," Flitwick stammered a little. "I've heard of wands with cores of eagle stones, but you must kill a thunderbird to get one. It's," Flitwick paused "dark magic." The class whispered to itself. Sara cradled her wand. She had nearly lost it once before, and was not keen on the concept of it being confiscated as an evil article. Not that Sara really believed in the concepts of ultimate good or evil.

"Sometimes a thunder bird will 'will' its stone into creation when it knows it's dying, or even willfully sacrifice itself for it. Strong magic, just a little grayer." Sara held the red piece of wood carefully. It was not like any of the other wands in the room. And not just the wood and the core.

"What are the symbols carved into it?" the Charms professor asked, after a moment to get his thoughts together.

"Charms, protections, blessings, history. Just stuff." Sara hoped she could blow off the question. The symbols had been burned ever so carefully into it by her grandfather when he was in a trance state. Not even he was sure of the full strength of the wand.