The Salem Witches Institute

Chapter One: A Surprising New Professor

It was a Saturday afternoon when the new teacher arrived at the Salem Witches Institute.

Most of the students (all females - this is, after all, a WITCHES school) were outside, enjoying the mild autumn sunshine. Some were doing homework, practicing their wand work or hastily scribbling notes for the next Transportation Spells test. Some had taken to the sky upon their broomsticks, their skirts and robes and ponytails flying freely behind them as they zoomed in and out above the trees. Other girls were clustered together, giggling and gossiping over the latest issue of Witch Weekly. "Did you see that picture of Ryan Wiggins, lead singer of the Owls? He's so hot!" "No way, Jeff Featherridge is WAY cuter!"

The teachers could be seen roaming the hallways and haunting the classrooms within the institute as well, even on the weekend. Mrs. Lark was nose deep in her Advanced Hexes class's essays on how best to make an enemy look like a cross between a toad and a peacock. Mrs. Pennington was helping a few of her younger girls master the precise art of the Scourgify spell. ("Oh, you stick out your ring finger, not your pinky!") Ms. Aurora Belwithe, however, knew none of this, nor did she care. She was too busy singing along to the music playing on her headphones and dancing within her office to really care.

She wasn't entirely wasting her afternoon, however. She was a teacher, (Advanced Potion Making) however young she was, (a mere twenty-four years old, and very pretty to boot) and she had loads of work to do. She had seventeen cauldrons full of Lemonwurt potion to be tested and a whole pile of Withering Dryreaves to be chopped, but she had more important matters to deal with first. Not singing and dancing within the private confines of her office, however, although she was doing this, too, and heartily enjoying herself to boot: she was working on a very complex, very difficult potion that Madam Melwyn Beemer, the headmistress of the school, had personally asked her to concoct: the Wolfsbane Potion.

Of course, Aurora had complied readily. There was nothing like a good challenge, according to her, although the headmistress wouldn't reveal exactly WHY she needed the Wolfsbane potion made, and six month's worth of it at that. It had taken two weeks for the brew to simmer and boil, and today was the day that the last ingredient could be added, the crumbled bits of corn hairs, and Aurora was only two pinch-fulls away from completion . . .

She pushed aside a stray hair that had fallen out of her high brown ponytail and adjusted her fashionable cat-eye glasses upon the bridge of her nose. Tap tap tap went her high-heeled, lace-up granny boots to the rhythm of the music, and she unconsciously began to sing louder and more off-key the harder she had to concentrate. Just a little bit more corn hair . . . hardly a pinch, and it should begin to smoke and whistle . . .

SCREEEEE! The cauldron began to rattle and smoke, and Aurora laughed out triumphantly and jumped in delight, nearly hitting her head atop a low hanging shelf. The smoke rings swirled lazily through the air, and she watched their progress until her eyes led her to the two people who were now, suddenly, standing right before her desk . . .

"Ahem," came the unmistakable clearing of the throat from the headmistress herself, who was watching Aurora with a vague sort of annoyance. She was standing next to a man who was wearing shabby robes and carrying a tattered old briefcase.

"Headmistress Beemer!" Aurora cried, starting in surprise. "Ahh . . . how long have you been, err, standing there?" She immediately shoved the headphones off of her ears, where they clattered onto the floor behind her.

"Oh, since about the second line of the chorus of the song you were singing," she replied in falsely cheery tones. Madam Beemer was an imposing older woman with a crown of white hair and a rather wide chest. She had the unfortunate habit of making people very nervous in her presence. "Didn't you get my notice this morning?"

"Well, no, actually," Aurora admitted sheepishly, blushing. "I've been working on the Wolfsbane potion you asked for. It's nearly finished."

The man beside her visibly paled. He looked like he had long been battling some sort of sickness; he was young, but his shoulder-length brown hair was already flecked with gray, and he had dark circles under his eyes.

"As we have seen," Madam Beemer replied shortly. "Well, it's no matter. I just wanted to introduce you to our newest teacher, Professor Remus Lupin. He's from Hogwarts in England; Headmaster Dumbledore recommended him to me to help Mrs. Crickett teach her Defensive Magics classes."

Lupin smiled brightly and extended his hand. "How do you do?" he asked in his soft English accent.

But Aurora wasn't paying attention. "Teacher?" she asked, as if she hadn't heard correctly. "But . . . he's a man!" she blurted before clapping a hand over her mouth and turning three shades redder than she already was. "I mean to say . . . that is . . ."

"This," Madam Beemer interrupted with a snort of derision, indicating Aurora, "is our youngest teacher, Ms. Aurora Belwithe. As you can see, she is HIGHLY perceptive." Aurora bit her lip but said nothing. "Yes, Remus is, in fact, a man, and the first to be teaching within the Salem Witches Institute. I've no doubt as to his ability to do so, either."

Aurora finally took Lupin's hand and shook it weakly. A man, teaching HERE? It was almost unheard of!

"I was showing Professor Lupin around the school, but, unfortunately, a slight problem has occurred with Mrs. Menorla's hatching of the griffins. Would you please show him around the remainder of the grounds while I head to the barns to help?"

"Of course!" Aurora breathed, a bit too eagerly.

Madam Beemer quirked an eyebrow. "Good. I will see you on Monday, Professor Lupin." With a curt nod of her head, she left the office.

Remus smiled shyly. It WAS a bit odd to be the only male within a school full of girls. Not that he wasn't grateful; on the contrary, he was just glad that Dumbledore had been able to get him a job, even so far from home here in America. Jobs were hard to come by for him; he was a werewolf, and therefore treated with caution and sometimes outright hatred from most of the magical community. He was a danger, to himself and others, if he didn't take the Wolfsbane potion every month before the full moon, and he had highly doubted that Madam Beemer would take him on as a teacher if she knew of such things. But the woman proved more open than he had even hoped; she was an old associate of Dumbledore's and knew of his secret and it didn't change her view of him whatsoever.

He doubted that Ms. Aurora Belwithe knew this, however. He was willing to bet that she didn't know that the potion she was brewing was really meant for him. At the moment, however, she was saying nothing; she seemed to have lost her ability to speak. Her forgotten headphones could still be heard playing the music faintly from the floor behind her. With a little "oh!" and a jump, she seemed to come back to herself with a smile. "I'm so sorry, I've been so rude . . . please, sit down, I've just got to bottle this potion . . ."

Remus set his briefcase down and walked over to the desk, handing her the empty glass bottles she had ready. With a wave of her wand, she began to stream the liquid into the flasks; it was rather sloppy, however, and some of the stray stuff sizzled menacingly on her desktop. "Oh, I hate this part," she muttered in frustration.

"Let me try." Remus lifted his wand and the potion jetted easily into the bottles; they even screwed themselves shut with a little flick of his wrist.

"Wow, had a lot of practice, huh?" Aurora stated, eyeing him respectfully.

"I am awful with potions, actually," Remus admitted truthfully. He watched her clean up a little and cleared his throat. "I've heard a lot of good things about this school. I'm glad to be able to work here, even though it may be a bit . . . odd . . . to have me on as teacher."

Aurora nodded. "I think it's good of you to be able to help Mrs. Crickett with the Defense classes, though. She's got enough to deal with besides all the classes she has to teach. Besides," she wiped her hands on her red skirt, "I think that girls these days should be prepared to handle themselves in the real world, if you know what I mean."

Remus raised his eyebrows. Did she mean what he thought she meant? He wasn't sure how far removed from the imminent threat of Voldemort the Americans were; the only reports concerning Voldemort he had ever heard had happened within Europe. "What's wrong with Mrs. Crickett, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Oh, it's not Mrs. Crickett, it's her poor husband." Aurora frowned sadly. "He's been very ill lately. She's always having to leave for days at a time to be with him. It's a wonder she hasn't cracked under all the pressure." She sighed, remaining silent for a polite few moments. "Well, shall we continue your tour then?" She could just imagine the countless giggles and questions she would get from all the girls when they saw her leading a man around the school! And she had to admit, despite his ragged appearance, he was rather handsome . . .

Remus grinned. "We shall." He allowed her to lead the way out of her office and around the rest of the school.