The Man of the Moment

Chapter Nine: Teacher, Tailor, Soldier, Spy

The next morning after breakfast, Harry returned to his common room as he had been instructed the previous day. There were excited murmurings as the entire Gryffindor student body waited to hear whom their new Head of House would be.

"I've got a galleon on Professor Vector!" Euan Abercrombie proudly announced to one of his classmates as Harry entered the room, and Harry assumed that Dean had managed to continue his betting venture without the aid of his trusty transforming leather-bound book.

"I put seven sickles on Professor Beauchamp," Jack Sloper said to Euan. "I reckon she could be an outside contender."

Harry stood next to Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Neville.

"We haven't heard anything yet," Hermione pointed out. "McGonagall should be here any moment."

"If what we heard in our detention's anything to go by, it'll be Persephone," Ginny pointed out. "I'm gutted Dean stopped taking bets at seven o'clock yesterday evening."

Ron seemed very interested by this piece of news.

"How do you know?" he asked. Ginny groaned, then smiled and tapped her nose.

"I have my sources," she said, cryptically. Harry sighed.

"Snape and McGonagall were discussing it in the dungeons. She seemed adamant that Persephone get the job, and wanted Snape to help her convince the other Heads of House," he replied. Ron nodded in understanding.

At that point, Hermione nudged both Harry and Ron, at which they looked up at the entrance to the common room. McGonagall was standing there.

"Can I have your attention, please?" she commanded, and the Gryffindors fell silent.

"After much deliberation, we have finally decided on your new Head of House, who will be Professor Beauchamp. I hope you will give her a warm welcome and not too much hassle whilst she is settling into her new position within the school," McGonagall announced, ushering said woman in. There were excited murmurs from the students, not least from Jack Sloper, who had just won himself a sizeable share of the takings from that particular bet.

"Well, hi," Persephone said, somewhat sheepishly.

"Wow, are you going to be our Head of House for ever?" Dennis Creevey asked. Persephone laughed.

"Well, for a considerable amount of time," she replied. "I can assure you that no-one lives forever. I'm going to have to swap my current office and classroom today to accommodate my new responsibilities, so those of you who have Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons after today will need to go to your old Transfiguration classroom."

"What about our Transfiguration lessons after today? Where will they be?" Natalie MacDonald asked.

"Your old Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom," Persephone replied.

"My brain hurts," Dean said, and the students present burst out laughing.

"You got through your O.W.L. exams- I'm sure you'll cope with swapping over two of your classrooms, Dean," Persephone replied.

"Speaking of which," McGonagall announced, "you all have classes to get to right now; dismissed!"

At this, the students made their way out of the Gryffindor common room and towards their respective lessons.

"We've got Charms now, right?" Ron asked. Hermione nodded.

"Yes," she replied, though she looked thoughtful.

"What's up?" Ron asked.

"I was just wondering who our new Transfiguration teacher might be," she said.

"I didn't know they'd decided yet," Ron replied. Hermione shrugged.

"But Persephone seemed to be in an awful hurry to swap her office and classroom over," Ginny pointed out. Hermione shook her head.

"I think that had more to do with ensuring she, as our new Head of House, has her office near to our common room," she replied, "although I do think they might be holding a few interviews today..."

Harry couldn't help but grin.

"Well, I reckon Ginny knows as well as I do how Snape will feel about the decision," he added. Ron looked at him.

"Snape? What's he got to do with it?" he asked, indignantly.

"McGonagall was asking him if he had any suggestions for a new Transfiguration teacher," Harry replied. Ginny giggled.

"And you'll never guess who he recommended," she added.

"Who?" Hermione asked. Ginny grinned.

"Alex Ridley," she replied. Hermione nearly dropped her bag.

"Alex? As in the Alex who almost impaled him on the end of her sword?"

"As in 'Brethren of Tyr' Alex?" Ron chimed in. Ginny nodded.

"The very same," she replied. Harry looked at Ron and Hermione's shocked expressions,

"I know, it's ridiculous," he said. Hermione shook her head.

"I'll say- Professor Snape isn't exactly the type of person to let such a thing slide. He's held the Shrieking Shack incident against Sirius for, well, forever!" she pointed out, as Ron held the door to the Charms classroom open for her, at which she seemed quite surprised.

"Oh, thank you, Ron," she said, before sitting herself in their usual seats in the corner of the room.

Professor Flitwick was teaching them about Protean Charms this lesson; which Hermione paid rapt attention to, despite the fact that she had evidently mastered the technique in year five with her fake Galleons for the DA. Professor Flitwick was so pleased with her level of understanding that she earned another twenty points for Gryffindor before they had even moved onto the practical work for the lesson.

"Maybe you can give me a hand with this, then, Hermione," Ron grumbled, as he struggled to make an apple display a series of messages with the swish of his wand. Hermione sighed and began to explain the principles once again.

"It's simply a matter of willing the change you want- in this case, the message- once you have cast the spell, and not before," she said, patiently, though Harry got the feeling that she was getting a little irritated by the difficulty Ron appeared to be having in grasping the concept. Clever though she undoubtedly was, Harry thought she'd struggle in a teaching profession. His own apple, on the other hand, was displaying messages. The only problem was, they weren't the messages he wanted to display; instead he kept getting snippets of lyrics from some Celestina Warbeck song he'd heard over the Wizarding Wireless Network during his time at the Burrow appearing all over the skin of his apple.

Very soon, Harry became aware of derisive laughter coming from a nearby table.

"Ooh, how moving, Potter!" Pansy cooed, mockingly. Draco laughed.

"Potter; the Boy who Lived and also the President of the Celestina Warbeck fan club!" he taunted. Ron glared angrily at him.

"Better than being the Groupie of the Death Eaters," he spat back, at which Draco looked simply furious.

"Shut up, Weasel! You think you're so hard just because your father's found himself in a position far above his aptitude. Trust me, he won't last long as Minister, people will soon see what a blundering fool he is!" he retorted, hotly.

"Hmm, sounds awfully like what happened to your father- both in and out of the Ministry," Hermione mused, whilst casting another Protean Charm on an orange. Draco turned beetroot in colour.

"No one asked for your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood!" he hissed. Ron stood up out of his chair.

"Shut your face, Malfoy, you stupid git!" he snapped.

Draco looked at Ron's apple with distaste.

"You're the one that can't even perform a Protean Charm, Weasley. I'm sure there's a saying somewhere about how cauldrons shouldn't call crows black. Except I'm clearly not a crow," he said, clearly amused by his own words. Pansy Parkinson giggled enthusiastically alongside him. Ron waved his wand, and threw his apple at Draco.

"Oh, it looks like I can, doesn't it, Malfoy?" he said, sarcastically. Draco's face turned a deep shade of crimson as he read the message on the apple, and Ron burst out laughing. Draco scowled, and threw the apple back at Ron, clearly with the intention to strike him with it, although Flitwick managed to catch it with considerable ease.

"Oh, well done, Mr. Weasley, you're the first person after Miss Granger to get it! Ten points to Gryffindor!" he said, beaming.

Ron looked stunned.

"But that message was well rude..." he trailed off, and showed Harry what the apple had imprinted onto its skin. The message read 'Ball boy tricks the runt of his brothers'. Somehow, Ron had managed to change the message whilst the apple was in the air, which Harry thought was a far more impressive achievement than the one he got the points for.

"Ron, what did the message originally say?" Hermione asked. Ron faltered for a moment, then cupped his hand to Hermione's ear and whispered something that caused her to turn the same shade of crimson as Draco originally did.

"Ron, that's utterly disgusting!" she remonstrated. Ron shrugged.

"Well that's why I wasn't going to tell you?" he retorted. Hermione looked at him with suspicion.

"Why?" she asked. Ron fumbled with his apple.

"Because, you're a girl... A not-yet-adult girl, at that!" he hastily added.

"Since when has that ever stopped you?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at his response.

Once their Charms lesson was over, Harry found himself walking back to the Gryffindor common room with Ron and Hermione via the fourth-floor corridor, due to the fickle staircases switching position on them mid-climb.

"Malfoy's such a git," Ron grumbled, as they passed a couple of classrooms that Hermione pointed out were used for the Arithmancy lessons.

"We know, Ron, but you shouldn't let him get to you- he isn't worth the energy," Hermione replied, as they ascended another set of staircases that went up to the seventh floor.

They were soon greeted with the sight of McGonagall and Persephone floating boxes of equipment towards Persephone's new office, which, unlike McGonagall's old office, was near the Gryffindor common room.

"Minerva," Persephone was saying wearily, "you realise he might have been just as offended by your request as you were by his rebuttal, right?"

McGonagall seemed bewildered by this remark.

"Whatever do you mean?" she asked. Persephone sighed.

"It's all to do with the Ritual of Draconis. You never, under any circumstances, go near a dead person's coffin- it taints the dead and possibly impedes their passage through to the afterlife, leaving them languishing in Purgatory. Not to mention how the dead despise the living, and will apparently use any method they can to return and wreak havoc," she explained. McGonagall looked horrified.

"I had no idea! I didn't think Severus followed many of his tribe's customs," she replied. Persephone shrugged.

"Well, we don't follow many of them, but we certainly observe the rituals of death and birth," she said. McGonagall looked perturbed.

"What's the matter?" Persephone asked.

"When Severus was at school here, I don't recall him travelling around much in the holidays..."

"Ah, well, his father split from the tribe, I think. Married a Gaje..."

"A what?"

"Someone who was not of gypsy stock. It's pretty much frowned upon, you see, although less so if the Gaje is female because it's the men who carry on the line. However, they eloped. I get the impression that his mother wanted to settle, and his father went along with it, only to resent it later on. Nasty business- I didn't enquire into it much further. Aunt Porphyria never took me to visit them, and they died when I was four, I think," Persephone said, conversationally.

"I never knew... Severus isn't one to indulge much about his personal life," McGonagall replied, softly. Persephone managed a grim smile.

"Somehow, that doesn't surprise me... Hi, guys, back from class already?" she asked, suddenly acknowledging Harry, Ron and Hermione's appearance.

"Yeah, we've come for yet more of Hermione's books," Ron grumbled, at which Hermione slapped him on the arm. Harry was certain that both Persephone and McGonagall fought to hide their smiles.

"I happen to have been doing some extra reading on universal translators- you know, enchantments that can interpret text in different languages..."

"I know the ones," Persephone replied. Hermione briefly looked at the floor, before offering her best smile.

"I was wondering if perhaps I could practice on... on that book, you know, that I acquired," she asked, sweetly. Persephone looked at her.

"You might want to practice on something a little less tricky, Hermione," she teased. Hermione's expression became stony.

"But I really want to read what that book says!" she replied. Persephone bit her lip to smother her giggles.

"And I really want to see how long I can wind you up about it for," she teased.

"Well, can I?" Hermione asked. Persephone looked uncertain.

"Our Translation guys are going over it," she said, "I told you before- not in Hogwarts! You can look at it in the holidays, do you hear me?"

"I do, I do," Hermione replied. Persephone's facial expression remained serious.

"I mean it, Hermione. At the moment, we only know that it isn't dangerous to actually read. When you do get your hands on it, the second you find anything even remotely untoward, you tell me, all right?" she ordered. Hermione nodded.

"I promise," she replied. Persephone nodded.

"Good," she added, before bidding them goodbye and hovering her box down the corridor. McGonagall turned to face them.

"Oh, Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley- might I remind you that you will be required to sit in on the final interview for our new Transfiguration teacher this evening? I would like you to prepare some questions from the pupils, if you could," she announced.

"Of course, Professor McGonagall," Hermione replied. Ron nodded.

"We're right on it, Professor," he added. McGonagall smiled and walked down the corridor, floating a long box that Harry was certain held a few of Persephone's swords.

That evening in the Great Hall, Ron and Hermione were busy asking various students for questions.

"Oh come on, it can't be that hard, just think of something!" Hermione demanded of Dean, who shrugged.

"I dunno," he protested. "Why can't you two make up some questions? You are supposed to represent our opinions..."

"Yes, but we need your opinions to do so!" Hermione retorted. Dean smiled.

"Hermione, I trust your judgement completely," he replied, before turning back to the task of eating his dinner. Hermione sighed.

"Oh, this is hopeless- you're all so apathetic!" she shouted at the Gryffindors, who looked steadfastly at their plates.

"I used to be apathetic," Neville pointed out. "Now, though, I just can't be bothered."

The whole table of students sniggered.

"I've got a question, Hermione," Jeremy Archer announced. Hermione beamed.

"Oh, good!" she exclaimed. Then her expression snapped to one of suspicion.

"This is an actual, sensible question, right?" she asked. Jeremy nodded.

"Of course!" he retorted.

"Okay then," Hermione said, holding her quill and parchment ready to jot the question down. Jeremy coughed.

"What kind of stuff are you thinking of teaching us, and are any such decisions due to current events," he asked. Hermione scribbled it down.

"Thank you, Jeremy, that was a really good question," she replied, and Jeremy beamed.

"No problem, Hermione," he replied, before continuing with his meal.

"I've got one, Hermione," Ginny added. Hermione turned to face her.

"Go on, Ginny," she said.

"Do you feel it necessary to dole out detentions to students who get a fit of the giggles in your class and simply can't help it?" she asked. Ron looked sideways at her.

"You've got another detention with Snape?" he asked. Ginny nodded.

"Yep," she replied. Ron looked stunned.

"That's twice in two days! Even I haven't managed that, and I partner Harry in Potions!" he exclaimed.

"What was it this time, Ginny?" Neville asked. Ginny sighed.

"Snape told Catherine Price off for heating her cauldron too quickly. He said she has a habit of getting rather overexcited and rushing to finish, when concentrating on the preparation would be more satisfying. I cracked up," she explained, and Harry saw Ron fight the urge to laugh.

"That seems a rather spurious reason to give out a detention," Hermione pointed out. Ginny shrugged.

"Well, it's Snape, isn't it?" she replied.

"Yeah- he gives me detentions and takes points away for no good reason, and he hates me," Harry added. Dean frowned.

"That seems daft, though- if you hate someone, why keep giving them detentions... what if it's because he likes you, Ginny?"

Seamus whooped with laughter.

"I can picture it now!" he said. "The Potions Master giving poor, innocent Ginny late-night detentions..."

"Ours is a forbidden love, Seamus," Ginny deadpanned, and everyone laughed but Dean.

"I've got a detention tonight too, remember?" he replied. "Anyway, somehow, I can't picture Ginny as having ever been particularly innocent," he added, with a smile. Ron glared at him.

"Excuse me?" he asked, coolly. Hermione grabbed his arm.

"Come on, Ron, we need to ask at the other tables," she ordered, dragging him away before he and Dean could get into a verbal fight.

Harry saw Luna enter the Great Hall, and immediately get accosted by Hermione, parchment in hand, demanding questions for the candidate Transfiguration teacher. Luna leant over a little and said a few things, which Hermione scribbled down. As soon as Luna looked up, Harry beckoned her over.

"Harry, why do you insist on bringing her over here?" Dean asked, uncomfortably.

"Because she's my friend," he replied, confrontationally. "Is that a problem?"

"No, not at all... it's just her and Ginny gang up on me," he said, eventually. Harry stared at him, stunned by his words.

"And that bothers you?" he asked. Dean shrugged.

"For the boyfriend of said girl, Ginny and Luna together are almost as scary as Ginny and Hermione together," Dean replied.

"Hi, everyone," Luna said, sitting down next to Dean whether he liked it or not. "Hermione and Ron are canvassing student questions for the new Transfiguration teacher- I thought I'd ask if they considered the transfiguring of animals into inanimate objects a useful part of the curriculum, despite the fact that over two hundred animals are damaged each term in our school alone as a result of such practises. I don't agree with hurting animals for the sake of teaching," she announced, proudly.

"But Luna," Neville said, "you're not taking Transfiguration."

"So?" Luna queried, her protuberant eyes boring into Neville. "That doesn't mean I can't have an opinion."

"Okay," Neville replied quickly, as though he didn't want to argue.

"I would like to have a lesson with the new Transfiguration teacher, though," Luna commented. "I think I might have spoken to her earlier."

Suddenly, the sound of at least twenty items of cutlery hitting ten plates assaulted Harry's ears.

"You've seen her?"

"You've spoken to her?

"She's a her?"

"Yes, yes and yes," Luna replied, calmly. "She seemed nice, if a little blunt."

"Ooh, what did she look like?" Lavender Brown suddenly piped up, seeming to forget Luna's reputation as Hogwarts' resident oddball for that moment.

"About Harry's height," Luna replied.

"So, short then," Dean joked.

"Ha, ha," Harry replied, in mock amusement.

"She had curly black hair, dark skin, a rather noticeable scar on her upper lip and she sounded like Neville when she spoke," Luna finished.

"I guess Alex Ridley really will be our new Transfiguration teacher, then," Ginny commented to Harry, who nodded.

"Yeah. I wonder if Ron and Hermione know?" he asked. The two exchanged glances.

"We should tell them," Ginny confirmed, as they both got up out of their seats and went to find the Head Girl and Boy, who, having spoken to students from all the other houses, were currently trying to drum up some kind of response from the Slytherin table.

"...If you have anything you'd like to ask the..." Hermione was trying to get some sort of response from the Slytherins at the table, but they were looking at her with utter distaste.

"Granger, kindly remove your Mudblood self from our presence," Draco drawled, to fits of giggles from Pansy Parkinson. Ron glared at him, and looked just about ready to hex him into oblivion, when someone spoke up.

"I'd like to know if she can speak Cantonese," Szeto Ang piped up. Hermione tried, and failed, to suppress a snigger.

"What's so funny?" Szeto asked, defensively. Hermione smiled.

"I'm sorry, it's just that Jeremy Archer told us about what happened in your class..."

"Oh, Jeremy!" Szeto exclaimed. "Yeah- he's pretty cool..." His cheeks tinged pink. "I didn't know Beauchamp could speak it. I was so embarrassed- I thought she was going to give me a detention."

"Professor Beauchamp is fairly lax when it comes to things like that," Ron said.

"Word of advice, though- don't go out of your way to make her angry. She can be very strict when she feels the need," Hermione added, and Szeto blushed again.

"Thanks- she didn't look like the kind of teacher you'd want to annoy. In fact, she kind of reminded me of our Head of House," he replied, conversationally. Draco snorted into his goblet and made some comment to Pansy about how Professor Snape wasn't a raving lunatic, and Harry had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from loudly refuting that claim.

"How does the new teacher feel about extra help after lessons? Could you ask them about that, Hermione?" Crabbe asked, and Harry almost stopped dead in the hall from shock. Hermione seemed unfazed, however.

"Certainly, Vincent," she replied, scribbling down the question on her piece of parchment. Ron turned around and caught Harry's gaze- from the look on his face, he was as stunned as Harry about he whole affair.

"Oh, well in that case, I do have a question, Granger," Draco shouted, as Harry got to the Slytherin table. Hermione held up her quill.

"Yes, Malfoy?" she replied, tartly, but with a semblance of courtesy.

"I'd like to know how the new Transfiguration teacher feels about having to sully themselves teaching Mudblood scum like yourself," he said, breezily. Pansy and a few of the other Slytherins whooped with laughter. Harry noticed that Szeto looked both embarrassed and disgusted.

"Hermione," Harry whispered into her ear, "the new teacher's Alex Ridley."

Hermione looked at him, and at Ginny, who was trying not to laugh, and broke into a grin.

"What's so funny?" Ron whispered. Hermione explained, and he to began to grin.

Hermione turned to Draco, and smiled at him.

"Of course, Draco, I'll just jot down your question," she said, scribbling on her parchment. "...Sully themselves teaching Mudbloods like yourself," she read out as she wrote.

"Mudblood scum like yourself," Draco corrected. Hermione beamed.

"Oh, how silly of me," she replied, whilst Ginny and Ron broke into peals of laughter. Draco looked annoyed.

"What's the matter with you two Weasels?" he spat.

"Be sure to put his name down, Hermione," Harry added.

"And what, precisely, has this got to do with you, Potty?" Draco hissed.

"Well, we'll be sure to pass that on, Malfoy," Hermione said, tucking her quill into her robe pocket.

"Yeah, with your compliments," Ron sniggered, before he walked out of the hall with Hermione, Harry and Ginny, leaving a stunned Draco in their wake.

Before they got to the entrance of the Great Hall, Harry became aware of footsteps rushing behind him. He pulled out his wand, half-expecting Draco to attempt an attack on him, when instead he saw Szeto Ang tug gently on Hermione's robe sleeve.

"Look..." He faltered. "I'm really sorry about that. I know I've only been here two days, but those guys are idiots. We're not all like that," he said.

"That's sweet of you, Szeto," Hermione said, and Harry noticed the boy blush yet again. "But you don't have to apologise for them- I know what they're like," she explained.

"But I want to," he countered. "I've heard them in the common room, wittering on about pure-blood this and pure-blood that. It's wrong, not to mention extremely tacky. My father always said to me, that to a true pure-blood wizard, the status of others matters nought. My mother always said that a wizard's power lies not in the blood in their veins, but in the fire that burns there." He paused for a moment in thought. "Well, she said something remarkable similar in Cantonese to me, anyway," he finished.

Hermione smiled.

"Well, thank you, Szeto. That means a lot to me," she replied, sincerely. Szeto blushed yet again.

"You're welcome. I'll see you soon," he said, before running back to the Slytherin table to join his friends.

Ginny put her hands to her face.

"Aww! How adorable!" she squealed, before remembering about her detention and rushing off to find Dean.

"It's nice to know there are some Slytherins who aren't as pig-headed as Malfoy," Harry commented.

"It is, isn't it?" Hermione replied. Harry noticed that Ron seemed oddly quiet.

"What do you think, Ron?" he asked.

"I think that kid fancies you, Hermione," he replied, cheekily. Hermione looked at him doubtfully.

"Ron, he's twelve!" she exclaimed. Ron shrugged.

"So? I still think he fancies you. He could hardly get two words out to you without glowing like a torch!" he retorted.

On their way up to the common room, Harry mentioned Luna's opinion on using animals in Transfiguration class.

"There's always one," Ron groaned. "Fred and George said Angelina Johnson got like that during third year- she got into major trouble with McGonagall for refusing to participate in classes. It wore off eventually."

"Well I think it's marvellous that Luna feels so strongly about such an issue," Hermione said, stubbornly. "Perhaps I should talk to her about S.P.E.W.," she mused. Ron grabbed Hermione by the arm.

"Let's just go to this interview thing, okay?" he ordered, dragging her down the corridor.

"We'll see you later, Harry," Hermione called back, having pulled herself out of Ron's grip and slapped him hard on the arm in retaliation. Harry sighed and continued up to the common room, where many of the Gryffindors were sitting around playing games or doing their homework. Ginny and Dean were nowhere to be seen, but Harry knew this was because they both had a detention with Snape, as Dean was in big trouble with their Potions teacher for his attempt to take bets for which member of staff might have had a hand in Dumbledore's death. Harry tried to push the thought out of his mind, for he, Ron and Hermione held a view about Dumbledore's death that very few of the other students seemed to- that his death was terribly sad, and they would miss him.

Harry went silently up to his dormitory and unlocked the third lock of his trunk, pulling out his mother's diary again. He sat on his bed and opened it up to the last unread entry. For some odd reason, just reading it, seeing his mother's handwriting, comforted him in some way. He could almost imagine what it might have been like to write to her, or talk to her, and hear what she had to say. For a moment, he could picture her and Persephone chatting away about issues only they could truly understand; much like Ginny sometimes did with her mum, or how Hermione said she talked to hers.

'22/08/75

I am so tired. I had no idea that giving birth was such hard work- I've got an entirely new respect for my mother now, and she didn't even have the advantages of a relatively pain-free wizarding birth. Well, to recap over the last few hours, Porphyria and François rushed me to a hospital in Bulgaria, where Severus' aunt Isabella works as a Birth Giver. They wouldn't let him in with me, though I heard him ask. Apparently, the Snapes don't allow males in the birthing area- I think it might be a religious thing. To be honest, I felt kind of relieved- I didn't really want him with me, anyway. I just wanted the whole thing over and done with, and to get on with my life.

It took a good seventeen hours for the baby to finally be born- Isabella almost had to use a summoning charm to help her out. Turns out she's both a premature and late baby- she should have been born sometime in September, you see. It was only a month early, though, so Isabella says she's perfectly fine and healthy.

Yes, Severus was right- it really was a girl. She's quite cute, too. They took her away to clean her off (and you should have seen her! Covered in gunk, it was really quite disgusting), then they let me hold her. She screamed her head off first; then she seemed to get used to me, and fell asleep in my arms. She felt very warm and heavy, and her head smelled of those Rusk things my mum used to make me eat as a toddler (and I still eat now, to tell you the truth, but only if Mum's babysitting and happens to have them in the house). Isabella told me I had to name her, a special name that nobody but I would ever know, so I did. And no, I'm not telling you what I called her! It's private- not even Porphyria knows it.

Porphyria and François came to see her soon after, and Isabella filled in a birth record for her, although it was quite unlike any I'd seen before, and that includes in the wizarding world. She got me to sign a few pieces of paper, and that was it- I am now officially no longer the mother to my own child. I managed to smile and look relatively happy as they cooed over the new addition to their family, and lie that I was fine when Porphyria asked, and reply in a friendly manner when they both insisted that if I ever wanted to see her, I had only to ask, and they would arrange for me to go over to France, or they would come over to me if it was during term-time. When they left to sort out the more legal details with Isabella, I burst into tears. I know it sounds stupid, and I know there is absolutely no way I could raise that child, but I don't want them to take her away. I don't care what the legal mumbo-jumbo now claims, she's my baby!

"Are you okay?" a voice asked, and I jumped in shock. It was Severus. Apparently they'd let him in to see the baby- pity they didn't inform me of that fact.

"Yeah, I often cry like this when I'm okay," I spat back, although the effect was admittedly lost somewhat when attempted between sobs. He sat himself down at the edge of my bed.

"You know, Porphyria isn't having you on- she really means it when she says you can visit the baby whenever you want. And she and François are really kind people- she won't want for anything. They'll look after her, get her to the best wizarding schools, give her everything..."

"Everything I can't," I finished his sentence for him. He looked surprised.

"I didn't mean it like that, I just meant you're doing the right thing by her," he replied, softly. I looked up at him- all the time I'd known him since last December, and I had never heard him speak like this, as though he really cared one way or the other about how I felt. I couldn't think of anything to say, so I just carried on crying. Severus didn't seem to know how to react to that; he just gently put his arm around my shoulders as though I was made of glass and handed me a handkerchief.

"What should we call her?" he asked after a while, once I had calmed down. I shrugged.

"Does it matter?"

"I think it does," he replied, quietly.

"Then you pick," I replied. He moved away from me and went over to the crib in which my baby was sleeping, and picked her up. Part of me wanted to stop him.

"She's sleeping," I pointed out, but he didn't seem to notice my words.

"Hello there," he whispered, cradling her in his arms. She opened her eyes sleepily for a moment, and rested her head quietly against his chest, without so much as a sniffle. She seemed to like him a lot more than she did me.

He carried her over to the chair next to my bed, and sat down, all the while gently rocking her in his arms.

"She's adorable, isn't she?" he whispered to me. "The cutest kid in the ward, aren't you?" he whispered to the baby, who looked up languidly in his direction, and seemed to agree with him.

"I wonder where you got your blue eyes from?" he cooed, and I couldn't help but think that this was the most surreal thing I would ever see in my life- Severus Snape, class weirdo who hexed people for fun and was an all round oddball, clucking over a small baby as though he were a mother hen watching over his brood.

"All babies have blue eyes when they're born," I pointed out. "They change colour when they get a bit older."

Severus nodded in response, and continued to rock the baby. He appeared to be thinking about something.

"Well, how about I pick her general name, and you pick her tribe name," he suggested. Perhaps it was the pain-relieving potions I had been taking (apparently, I'd been shouting out about how Tessa was putting the wrong ingredients into our potion just before the actual birth), but I didn't understand what he was talking about, and said as much.

"Well, she'll have the name you gave her that nobody will know, the name she will be known as by the whole world, and the name that only tribe members can use," he explained, with his usual air of impatience. I shrugged.

"Fine. You pick," I replied. Somehow, it didn't matter to me what she was called; what mattered to me was that I couldn't be a mother to her.

"What about Patience?" he suggested.

"That's a Puritanical name, and a somewhat awful one- no way!" I scoffed. To my surprise, he smiled cheekily.

"See, I knew you cared," he replied, before scrutinising my baby further.

"I'd like a 'P' name," he said.

"Fine," I replied.

"Hmm... what about Persephone?" he suggested, awaiting my approval. At that moment, the baby shifted her head a little, and grabbed onto Severus' little finger with her hand, and pulled on it gently.

"I think it's got her approval," I replied. "That's good enough for me."

Severus smiled, and kissed her on her forehead.

"Your turn," he said, and looked at me expectantly. My mind went black. For the life of me I simply couldn't think of a name for her.

"What about Proserpine?" I suggested, eventually. Severus looked bemused.

"Interesting choice," he replied. "I was expecting something more along the lines of Jennifer, or Mary."

"I just thought what with Persephone being the Greek Goddess of the Underworld, that Proserpine would be a good choice, seeing as she was the Roman equivalent," I explained. Severus looked horrified.

"I had no idea..." He trailed off, apparently concerned with his original naming.

"What's the problem?" I asked.

"Naming her after Death? That's got to be a bad omen," he replied. I couldn't help but giggle.

"It's just a name," I said. "It doesn't mean she'll turn out to be associated with the underworld as a result- real life is not like the 'Mr. Men' books!"

Severus looked confused.

"They're kids books. Each one focuses on a particular character- they all have no necks or bodies, and consist solely of a bright colourful face with two arms and two legs- well, except for Mr. Sneeze, who didn't even get any arms. They all suffer from an acute case of nominative determinism, personality wise. My favourite was Mr. Bounce," I explained. Severus still looked confused, and I suddenly realised I had discovered a huge culture gap between us both. Feeling tired, I lay on my side and watched him and Persephone from over the top of my bedcovers.

It was about then that Severus did perhaps the strangest thing I have ever witnessed. He loosened his one hand from underneath the baby, and rested her against his chest with his right hand holding her steady. He then untied his neck scarf and unfolded it out into a flat square of red fabric, which he then wrapped around the baby like a miniature blanket. I wondered briefly whether I should ask him why he did such a thing, but I was too tired to worry about it...'

"Hey up, Harry," Ron acknowledged as he entered the dormitory.

"Oh, Hi, Ron- back already?" Harry asked. Ron looked confused.

"I've been gone for hours, mate," he replied. "It's half ten. I think the others might be coming up to bed soon."

Harry was surprised that the time had gone so quickly, and relieved that he hadn't really received much homework yet.

"How did the interview go?" Harry asked. Ron grinned darkly.

"Our new Transfiguration teacher is Professor Ridley," he announced.

"How do you think she'll handle Malfoy and his attitudes to Muggle-borns?" Harry asked aloud. Ron grinned from ear to ear.

"Hopefully with extreme physical punishment," he replied, before undressing behind the curtains of his bed and putting his pyjamas on. Harry laughed.

"Yeah, she's not exactly the passive type," he replied. He heard Ron laugh heartily behind the curtain.

"Well, we'll find out tomorrow- Transfiguration after lunch, remember?"

"Yeah," Harry replied, yawning as he did so. He flopped his head down onto his pillow without so much as getting changed into his nightclothes, and managed to wonder how Alex Ridley would make the transition from leader of a former terrorist group specialising in interrogation, to school teacher. He supposed that in some schools there was very little difference in the skills required for both, before he fell asleep.

The next afternoon, Harry, Ron and Hermione were sitting in the common room, waiting for their Transfiguration lesson.

"I'm sure Ridley will be fine," Ron said, cheerfully. "If she can handle Death Eaters, she can handle a class of kids."

Hermione looked unconvinced.

"Her handling is what worries me. I've a feeling she might be a little... overzealous," she replied. Harry glanced across at her.

"What do you mean?" he asked, and a quick look at Ron showed he was equally baffled. Hermione sighed.

"Well, she is a Muggleborn..."

"So? Most of the staff at this school couldn't care less!" Ron interjected. "And what about you? I've hardly ever seen you fly off the handle at Malfoy's comments."

Hermione sighed in irritation.

"Yes, Ron, but I'm not... I'm not..."

At that moment, a group of white-faced fourth years entered the room, and quietly sat down in a corner.

"What's up with you lot?" Ron asked, accusatorily.

"Transfiguration," Dennis Creevey replied, quietly.

"That bad?" he asked. Dennis nodded.

"Worse than Snape," he replied.

"How can she be worse than Snape?" Harry asked. Dennis' eyes widened.

"Snape's not a psychopath!" he replied, loudly. Hermione got up and went over to him.

"What happened?" she asked, soothingly. Dennis looked at the floor.

"There was a fight, between me and Malcolm Baddock. He called me a Mudblood," he explained. "And Professor Ridley just flipped. There was no warning. Now, I don't usually feel sorry for anyone in Slytherin house, but Baddock couldn't walk out unaided, he was so terrified."

Hermione pursed her lips.

"We need to talk to her at some point, Ron," she said. Ron looked bewildered.

"I still don't get why you think she's so..."

"Because she's mixed race!" Hermione blurted out, suddenly. " I think she might be a bit more sensitive to the whole pure-blood thing than most."

Ron beckoned her over.

"Hermione, what are you on about?" he asked. Hermione sighed.

"Alex's dad is black, her mum is white- she's mixed race. She's about- what, early thirties?"

"She took her N.E.W.T.s fifteen year ago..." Harry quickly did some sums on his fingers, but Hermione beat him to it.

"She's thirty-three. That means she was born in the sixties, and was a teenager through the seventies. In Bradford. Do you see where I'm going with this?"

Ron and Harry both shook their heads. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Look, Bradford had a reputation... Haven't you noticed that scar she's got on her lip? And the one on her left cheek?"

Ron shrugged.

"Sure, but she's been fighting Death Eaters and the like for years- you'd expect her to get a few," he replied. Hermione shook her head.

"They don't look like the kind of scars one gets when fighting wizards. They look like the kind one gets when they've been attacked with Muggle weapons," she replied.

At that moment, Dean and Ginny walked into the common room.

"Hey, guys," Dean said, cheerily. "Looking forward to Transfiguration?"

"Dean, have you seen Professor Ridley?" Hermione asked, suddenly. Dean nodded.

"Yeah. She's a fox," he replied. Ginny slapped him on the arm, at which he looked at her apologetically.

"What would you say if I told you she grew up in Bradford in the seventies?"

Dean's expression changed to one of alarm.

"Bloody hell," he whispered, hoarsely. "It would explain the scars..."

"I rest my case," Hermione said, folding her arms in grim triumph.

"Hermione, I don't understand what you're on about!" Ron shouted in irritation.

"Alex Ridley grew up in an environment where racism was rife," Hermione said. At Ron's blank expression, she elaborated.

"Up until a few decades ago, some Muggles believed, and I supposed a few still do, that people with different coloured skin shouldn't mix. Some Caucasians believed that they were above Afro-Caribbeans, purely because of the colour of their skin; which is ridiculous..."

"Oh, so like the pure-bloods and the Muggle-borns," Ron interjected.

"Yeah, kind of," Dean replied. Ron laughed.

"But... but, that's ridiculous!" he roared. "I mean, what possible difference does having a certain colour skin make to a person?"

"The same difference as being born to Muggle parents, or wizarding ones," Dean replied. Ron stopped laughing.

"So, none. I get it now," he replied, sadly.

"During the seventies, Muggle Britain underwent serious problems- there were regular strikes, little electricity because the workers went on strike, water was rationed for much the same reasons, and the dustbin-men went on strike, so the streets were filled with rubbish. A lot of it was to do with job losses and trade union disputes- some people blamed those who had migrated to the UK from other countries, and so in some areas, black people were seen as the enemy. It was nothing like over in America- but interracial marriages weren't exactly considered acceptable. Bradford certainly suffered from this," Hermione said, with Dean nodding in agreement.

"So, imagine if Professor Ridley, who grew up in an environment where, as a child, she may well have been persecuted because of her colour by her peers; then found herself in the wizarding world, where she was persecuted because of her blood. It amounts to the same thing, really- she's spent her entire life being persecuted because of whom she was born to. I reckon she'd be more sensitive to Muggleborn prejudice as a result," she continued. Dean paused for a moment, as though he was about to say something.

"Yeah, what she said," he added, quickly.

Ginny looked at her watch.

"By the way," she said, "you've got Transfiguration now. Have fun!"

"Oh joy, I can hardly wait to see how this turns out," Ron said, without any actual enthusiasm. He got up and walked towards the exit of the Gryffindor common room, and Harry followed with Hermione and Dean. Once they were outside, they saw Neville walking in the direction of their now Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.

"Neville, we've got Transfiguration on the first floor now, remember?" Hermione shouted after him. Neville clapped his hand to his head.

"Oh yeah, sorry," he said, running after them.

"Why couldn't they have just kept the same classrooms?" Dean complained.

"Because Professor Beauchamp needs to be able to keep an eye on us, so she needs to have the office and classroom nearest our common-room," Hermione explained.

"Why doesn't she just Apparate?" he asked. Harry noticed Hermione turn an odd shade of red and clench her fists.

"Because, you can't Apparate or Disapparate within Hogwarts!" she said, through gritted teeth.

Soon enough, they reached their old Defence against the Dark Arts class, which was now filled with all manner of interesting pictures and photographs of Transfiguration experiments, some of which were clearly Muggle, for they didn't move. Harry had the feeling Alex Ridley may have painted one or two of them herself, though he didn't know whether she had an artistic streak or not. He sat down somewhere near the front of the class, and Ron, Hermione, Dean and Neville soon followed, clearly feeling that if they banded together, the experience might be less of a concern. Lavender and Parvati also sat nearby when they entered the classroom, and Harry began to wonder exactly how far Dennis Creevey's story had spread.

"... She's got some nerve!" Harry heard Pansy Parkinson seethe from somewhere behind him. "You should have seen Malcolm at lunch, Draco. He was terrified!"

"Don't worry," Draco sneered. "I'll give her something to object about."

The Gryffindors exchanged concerned glances.

"Oh dear," Harry said, quietly.

"Oh dear, indeed," Hermione added.

"You don't think Baddock was just... exaggerating, do you?" Lavender offered, meekly. Hermione shook her head.

"I really, really don't," she replied.

At that moment, Harry heard a familiar clicking of boots, followed by the shutting of the classroom door.

"You know, suddenly, I feel kind of trapped," Dean whispered, just before Alex Ridley passed him and walked towards the front of the classroom, at which point she turned to face the class and leant casually against her heavy oak desk. Harry noticed she was very smartly dressed in a black skirt and corseted top with green sleeves, and her wild black hair had been pinned back into a small, tidy arrangement. However, this could not disguise what Harry thought were the more obvious signs of her real profession, for the deep scar on her upper lip was still prominent, as was the shallower one that ran along her cheek. She smiled slightly, which was not enough to expose her gold canine tooth, and began the lesson.

"Good afternoon, class. My name is Professor Ridley and I shall be taking you for your final N.E.W.T. year. Now, I've been reading Professor McGonagall's notes, and my class will cover the same things, so there will be no need to worry about content. I do, however, hope to impress upon you the versatility of this subject. Transfiguration is more than simply changing hedgehogs into pincushions- it's about disguise, deception and improvisation. If you're stuck in a situation where you are in desperate need of a decoy to divert an attacker, and all you have around is a rock..."

At this point, she picked up a paperweight that was resting upon her desk and placed it on the floor. She pointed her wand at the item and muttered a few words- it suddenly resembled a life-size copy of herself, right down to the scar on her upper lip. She muttered, "Finite incantatem!" and it returned to its original state. She picked the paperweight back up and placed it onto her desk, whilst the class 'oohed' and 'ahhed' appreciatively at her efforts.

"Wow, that was pretty cool!" Neville whispered to Harry, who nodded.

"But I don't know what Luna was on about- she does not speak like me!" Neville huffed. Harry merely smiled weakly- he personally thought their accents sounded quite similar.

"She's clearly from West Yorkshire! Typical Southerners- they reckon every accent north of Oxford sounds the same," Neville continued to fume, and Harry was rather relieved that he had chosen to keep his opinions on Neville and Alex's accents to himself.

Draco, predictably, had raised his hand. Alex nodded toward him.

"And you are?" she asked, slightly contemptuously.

"Draco Malfoy," he replied. She nodded for him to continue.

"I was just wondering," he said, "why you showed us a defensive application for Transfiguration. Isn't that what Defence Against the Dark Arts is for?"

Alex surveyed him coolly.

"We are at war, Mr. Malfoy, as I'm sure you are aware. Most of what you will learn in any subject will relate to that, for it is the reality in which we live," she replied, sharply, looking at Draco critically, as though she was waiting for him to talk back. He did not respond, so she continued with her speech.

"I will not tolerate slacking of any kind- if you are stuck with practical work, or confused with a concept, I expect you to either work it out yourselves, or to come and find me for extra help, which will be gladly given. I will not stand for offensive behaviour of any sort, either directed at myself or at each other. Failure to adhere to such basic rules will result in you no doubt coming to know me by the name my fourth year class have given me and think I don't know about- 'The Evil New Transfiguration Harridan'."

There were nervous titters at this remark. Alex waited for it to die down before continuing.

"For the rest of you, I expect a lively, intelligent exchange of ideas, theories and practical work, and for this to be reflected in your exam results. Don't give me any reason to be disappointed," she warned, and Harry knew in that moment that he was likely to work as hard as he physically could in order to remain in her good graces.

"Golly, she's even stricter than McGonagall- I didn't think that was possible," Neville whispered.

Soon enough, they were busy working on Minute Transfigurations, which involved changing parts of wizarding photos so that their appearance was changed just slightly from the original. Harry was struggling to convert his photograph of a small dog on a field chewing a stick during a sunny day into one with considerably heavier cloud cover. Try as he might, he kept turning the dog blue and the field cloudy. At one point, the stick turned into Aunt Marge's leg, and it was all Harry could do to stop himself from laughing.

Alex was walking between the rows of desks, appraising each student's efforts and offering constructive criticism; occasionally demonstrating the methods herself. Ron, much to Harry and Neville's surprise, had managed to successfully turn his photo of a small girl in pigtails into one where she wore her hair loose.

"Wow, Ron- how did you manage that?" Neville asked. Ron shrugged.

"I just transfigured the whole thing," he replied. "Who's going to know?"

"Ron!" Hermione scolded. "The whole point of Minute Transfiguration is that you only transfigure a minute portion of the object- it ensures they avoid being revealed by magical detection devices!"

It was then that Harry noticed Alex was standing right behind Ron and Hermione. They evidently had noticed too, for Ron looked very nervous indeed, and Hermione was blushing profusely. Alex broke into a smile, and Harry saw that gold canine tooth peek into view. She clapped her hands.

"Listen up, class," she ordered, and the class became silent and all fixed their eyes on her.

"Miss Granger here has just made an excellent point. I was going to bring it up later, but we might as well do it now. Go on, Miss Granger, tell them what you just told Mr. Weasley here," she cajoled. Hermione repeated her explanation of why Minute Transfigurations were necessary when dealing with magical detectors.

"Excellent work, Miss Granger, ten points to Gryffindor, I feel. Continue," she said, and the class carried on with their work, having hastily jotted down the point Hermione made in their notebooks. Draco looked especially annoyed.

"Yeah, well done, Granger," he taunted. "It's a pity that big head of yours can't come up with a way to hide your dirty blood. You know, lightning really can strike twice..."

Suddenly, there was a collective gasp, and the class went silent. Alex Ridley had stopped mid-pace, and turned on her heel to face Draco. She looked most displeased, and it reminded Harry of Snape at his most furious, except without the angry hotness of suppressed emotion.

"Would you care to repeat that, Mr. Malfoy?" she asked in a voice so cold, for a moment Harry thought a Dementor had entered the room.

"I... I didn't say anything, Professor," Draco replied, as charmingly as he could. It clearly didn't impress Alex.

"Of course you didn't," she replied sarcastically, and dragged a chair from an empty desk and placed it directly in front of Draco. She sat on it, folded her arms, and leant onto the back of the chair, her eyes boring into Draco's.

"Now then, little boy," she whispered. "I don't know where you picked up the ludicrous idea that you can lie to me and get away with it, but you might as well dispense of it right now- I will not be lied to, I will not be tricked, and anyone foolish enough to think they can will not get off lightly. Do you understand me?"

Draco nodded silently. Alex continued to stare him out.

"You evidently have a hearing problem of some description, boy. Either that or a memory deficiency, for I made it very clear earlier in the lesson that I will not stand for offensive behaviour towards other students. Do you remember?" she goaded, at which Draco nodded silently again. Harry couldn't help but think her words were somewhat ironic, for she had been the one who ensured he did receive a memory deficiency, by setting her team of Healers to wipe Draco's memory of having ever set foot in the Brethren of Tyr's headquarters.

Alex stared more closely at him.

"I do not accept deliberate deceit from anybody, least of all you. Forget that again, and you will be very sorry that you did. Understand?"

"Yes..."

"Yes?" Alex glared at him expectantly.

"Yes, Professor," Draco hastily replied. Alex smiled coldly.

"Good. I'm thrilled," she said, frostily. "Now, apologise to Miss Granger, and we'll say no more about it."

Draco looked across at Hermione, and faltered. Alex rolled her eyes.

"For every second that you delay, I shall take five points from Slytherin House. If that means running into a negative tally, then so be it," she added, calmly, as the bell for the end of lessons rang out across the school.

"But, Professor, the bell..."

"Is a signal for me, not you, Malfoy. We will stay here all night if we have to- nobody leaves this classroom until I have heard you deliver a satisfactory apology to Miss Granger. It takes sixty hours of sleep deprivation to induce visual hallucinations, Mr. Malfoy- I happen to know that to be true."

She sat back in her chair a little, but did not take her eyes of Draco. He sat defiantly back in his chair, but this defiance was clearly wavering. Alex looked at her wrist-watch.

"Well, that's thirty-five points already, Mr. Malfoy," she said.

"For Merlin's sake, Draco, grovel like you've never grovelled before!" Pansy hissed.

To be honest, Harry was amazed it took Draco as long as it did to eventually apologise, despite the fact that it was only thirteen seconds before he cracked.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Hermione," he stammered, and looked as genuine as Draco could. Then the bell rang.

"Right, I want two feet of parchment on the methods and practical applications of Minute Transfiguration by this time next week, and include an additional reference list- I want to see primary and secondary literature cited! Malfoy- I want to see a three-foot essay on the medical advantages of outbreeding on my desk by five o'clock tomorrow evening in addition to your homework. Class dismissed," Alex called, and the class quietly tidied away before leaving. Harry noticed that Draco looked even paler than usual, and that Pansy had linked arms with him in a show of support.

"That was a nasty essay to set- talk about hypocritical..."

"Or an eye for an eye, Parkinson," Alex commented, coolly, before Pansy led Draco out of the classroom at a quicker speed.

"Okay, now I know how the fourth years felt!" Ron exclaimed as they walked towards the Great Hall for dinner. As interesting as their lesson had been, Harry couldn't help but wonder what other nicknames Alex Ridley would accrue beyond 'The Evil New Transfiguration Harridan'. Somehow, though, he just knew that she wouldn't care one iota.