Faith Knight and the Prisoner of Azkaban

The castle was huge, of course, gothic and terribly old. The numerous paintings that hung on the stone walls were sprinkled with dust that collected in the corners of the frames, the people in the pictures fruitlessly trying to wipe it off. It had the feeling of past grandeur, the space was magnificent, the architecture elaborate, complicated and reminded Faith of Celtic designs she had seen in her motherís books at home. It was, however, still breathtaking, the sheer size alone amazing, and the glinting gold and the vivid colours of eccentric witches and wizards contrasted with the earthy feeling of the building, as if had always been there. And the moving stair cases. They were, as Faith put it, ìfantabulousî.

Walking through the huge oak double doors into the Great Hall was nerve wracking. It was a grand entrance that Faith felt she didnít deserve, she felt that slipping into the study body like Lucy slipped innocuously into Narnia would be more apt. Not to mention the fact that her and Jack stood out a lot among the first years, who were gibbering about trolls and wrestling in a frenzied manner. The sorting surely couldnít be that bad?

Jack put a steadying hand on her shoulder, and at once she felt Jackís aura, steady, calm, placid, so different from her pent up energy and she relaxed. Then started worrying again - this time a new worry. ìJack, what if we get put in different houses?î she whispered, eyes wide in panic. He shrugged. ìThatís all the comfort youíre gonna give me? Whereís my comfort? Whereís your advice that will instantaneously calm my nerves? Huh? Where-î

ìShhh,î whispered Jack, who was looking ahead to McGonagoll, who had started to read out the names for the new students for them to be sorted. It had started.

But really. If eleven year olds, which was all the soon to be first years really were could get sorted, could be brave enough to sit on a stool in front of the entire student body plus the professors and put on a crumpled old wizardís hat that would read your mind and judge your personality, in front of the entire school , then so could she. Probably.

McGonagoll didnít seem so bad. She was Scottish, which instantly endeared her to Faith, who was Scottish herself, although she did not have as strong an accent as McGonagoll. Faith thought that she looked a tad uptight, standing with amazingly rim rod straight posture, with a stern expression on her face, her lips thin and tight. Faith reached out with her mind and felt her aura, something she did to most people. It wasnít like reading someoneís mind (which was impossible - although Occulmency was close) all Faith could feel was her mood - tired but indulgent, and her basic personality - tough on the outside but a real softie underneath it all. Faith smiled, a decent teacher, thank god.

ìKnight, Faith,î called the professor in question. Faith snapped back to reality, shaking her head a bit. Remember to breath, she reminded herself, otherwise weíll die. The walk up to the stool felt like eternity and she wondered if she would be sent home for obstructing school property if she was sick all over the sorting hat. She glanced at the teachers briefly, noting Dumbledore, who was slightly conspicuous, a short teacher who probably wasnít all human, a man dressed all in black who looked evil, a nurse and a man who looked pretty sickly but young. She turned round, caught Jackís eye, winked, sat on the stool and crossed her legs, trying to be casual.

The hat was on.

Hello, hat.

ìAh, Miss Knight! I did not expect a nine life enchanter ever to cross Hogwartís doorstep, I hardly know where to put you. Hufflepuff, perhaps,î Faith looked over to the Hufflepuff table, who were watching avidly, but kindly. ìyou are loyal, but you will lack the intellectual stimulation you need,î Faith snorted, intellectual stimulation? Me? ìor Slytherin, you are a cunning and convincing liar.î Faith took a fleeting look at the Slytherin table, her telepathy sensing some veryÖwell negative, to put it one way, auras. ìRavenclaw maybe-î Iím not a nerd. ìBut itís got to be GRYFFINDOR!î

Yay me. She smiled, uncrossed legs, took hat of, stood up, saluted at Dumbledore in a rush of good spirits and strode over to her new house mates.

*        *        *        *        *        *

ìYou bastard,î

ìGood morning to you, too, yes I slept like a baby, a baby in a coma, actually, wrapped up in cotton wool-î

ìHow dare you-î

ìFaith, címon-î

ìI mean, after all Iíve done for you-î

ìWhich is what exactly? Last month you got me drunk at that wizard bar and got me involved in a fight with a Swazerce demon-î

ìOnce again, that wasnít my fault-î

ìAnd there was that time you dragged me through the sewers in London-î

ìThere were criminals hiding down there!î

ìExactly! Why would we want to go down there? And then-î

ìThis isnít about me, you bastard-î

ìBack to the name calling, I see,î

ìYou went and got yourself sorted into another house, I mean, really-î

ìAre you going to eat that?î asked Fred Weasely, his eye on the sausage on Faithís plate. Faith stopped glaring at Jack, for a second and shook her head and Fred forked the sausage onto his plate.

ìFred! Itís rude to interrupt!î admonished Fredís older brother and Head Boy, as he had pointed out to Faith continually in the very few hours they had been acquainted.

ìIím incredibly sorry,î deadpanned Fred, ìDo continue, your yelling match this early in the morning is like music to my ears.î

Faith smiled and apologised, then turned to Jack. ìYou are evil and I hate you,î she whispered, eyes narrowed. Jack rolled his eyes, he knew she didnít really mean it and would forgive him in a few minutes once she realised she had access to another Houseís common room and therefore ample opportunity for pranking.

ìArenít you ësposed to be at the Ravenclaw table, mate?î asked George, Fredís twin, genially, his mouth full of toast. ìNot that we mind having you here, that is.î

ìThatís right, clear off. I know youíre just trying to get away with having two breakfasts without looking like a pie,î joked Faith. Jack rolled his eyes and ruffled her hair, then walked over to his table.

ìInteresting relationship you got with your boyfriend, so caring, so loving; its almost nauseating,î commented Fred, genially. Faith choked on her orange juice.

ìEwe. I donít think so. Jackís my friend, who just happens to be male. I we ever dated I would have to kill myself. Repeatedly,î she said, her nose wrinkled.

ìSo does that mean heís up for grabs?î asked her fellow seventh year, a girl called Lydia. Faith shared a dormitory with her, Jess and Miranda and they seemed nice enough, neither serial killers nor people who collected stamps. She hoped they would become friends - Jack was useless at girly conversations and she had missed that.

ìYou can grab him alllll youuu likeee,î replied Faith, her voice dripping with mock innuendo and her eyebrows raised suggestively. Lydia giggled and Percy looked shocked.

ìWe should get to class,î he mumbled, a pink tinge spreading across his freckled face. Faith smirked - and to think he had a girlfriend! Hogwarts was going to be fun, fun, fun.

*        *        *        *        *        *

Faith Knight had never been so interested in a person as she was with Remus Lupin. Tentatively probing his aura when she first entered the Defence against the Dark Arts classroom, she detected as many layers as an onion - boy, was this man complicated! She was immediately fascinated.

Apparently, the last teacher had been some incompetent idiot called Lockhart who attacked some kids called Harry Potter and Ron Weasely, last year, and Obliviated himself. Professor Lupin was his replacement, apparently there was a jinx, or a curse on the DADA job and Lupin certainly didnít look as though he would last any longer than his predecessors.

He was tall and thin, a bit too thin. He was shockingly pale and his blue eyes shone out on his face - the only colour. His hair was brown and short and neat and normal. He was averagely normal looking. Faith bit her lip. There was something about him, though. She had retracted her aura, and she still felt it - it was annoying her, like when you see someone you know but you donít know where from and you wrack your brain for an answer and one doesnít come.

She was sitting next to Lydia - who was pretty cool, muggleborn like herself and very talkative, especially on the subject of Jack who she was quite taken with. The class was small, clearly Lockhart had not instigated a particular interest in DADA, although Faith was sure Lupin would reinstate popularity into the subject.

He was talking now, she noted, taking out her textbook, pencil case and lined paper. Lydia gave her a weird look, looked at the paper, her own parchment and back at Faith again, raising her eyebrows. ìI like my lined paper,î said Faith. îOtherwise my handwriting gets huge and before I know it Iíve only written three words on the entire page-î

She realised she had just interrupted Lupin, on his first day, in his first class, which was very rude, and she was new too, and now he was standing over her, arms folded, looking slightly amused. ìWell, Miss-î

ìKnight,î provided Faith, helpfully. ìSorry. I guess I just really like my paper,î she said, and the class laughed. Lupin smiled and told them it was a practical lesson today - at which the class seemed surprised - apparently Lockhart had given them tests on his favourite colours.

ìSo, unfortunately for Miss Knight, she will not be able to use her paper this lesson,î he smiled, making the class laugh. They cleared their stuff away and Lupin swept his wand across the classroom, the tables and chairs stacking themselves up by the walls. ìWands out,î he said. And he then rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, took a box from off his desk. It was grey, oblong, about as big as a computer and had a huge padlock on it and several complex containment spells. Faith wondered what was in it,

*****

ìUm, well. I was wondering if, yíknow?î said Faith, admonishing herself for her lack of expertise at thinking on her feet. ìLike, it would be really cool, if um, yísee?î What is wrong with me? Iím usually so good at lying! Then it hit her. It had to be phrased in a way that Remus Lupin would like. Although he didnít look it, he was a proud man, and wouldnít accept what he perceived as charity, even if the person was only trying to help. Even if they werenít just trying to help, their motives werenít purely altruistic and they wanted to be around Remus Lupin a bit more, and maybe get to know him. Oh yeah, and maybe they knew he had been friends with Sirius Black and they wanted information. ìI want to be a teacher!î

That sounded weak, even to her. She broke about ten school rules a day, Snape (or Sparky as she liked to call him) gave her a detention everyday, and McGonagoll, her head of house, referred to her as ìthat childî. If she had blurted that out to McGonagoll, she would have reprimanded her for lying, and Snape would have laughed in her face - except it wouldnít be a laugh, it would be a scowl, and then he would have thrown her out his office, whereas Remus (which is how she thought of him but couldnít call him, she learnt her lesson after calling Snape Severus) was levelly and almost interestedly looking at her. Did he find this funny?

ìSo anyway, I thought that maybe, hopefully, possibly, pleas- ably-î

ìPleas-ably is not a word, Faith,î scolded Remus Lupin. His lean frame leant against his desk, which was surprisingly messy, arms crossed with a blue shirt was visible underneath his teachersí robes. He was gazing at her neutrally, probably trying to discern whether or not she was lying.

ìRight. So anyway. Oh screw it. Can I be your teacherís assistant person? You could let me mark some first yearís essays and help with lesson plans and mark grammar errors and stuff-î If she angled it in a way that looked like he was helping her, not the other way around, she was fairly sure that he would help her, although not necessarily believe her.

ìYour own grammar is terrible. How do you expect to mark other peopleís grammar?î asked Lupin, looking amused. Faith felt outraged.

ìWhat? Cheek! My grammar is fantabulous!î she cried out, before realising that she was talking to a teacher. ìI mean, Iíll work on that.î He didnít look mad though, Lupin was incredibly relaxed and according to Lydia, Faith was his favourite seventh year, to which she had jokingly replied that she was everyoneís favourite seventh year. But, she rather agreed, she seemed to get away with murder in his class. She once fell asleep (she stayed up all night reading several yearbooks from the library in hope of finding Sirius Blackís one, which is how she found out Lupin and Black were friends. She was getting rather obsessed with Black. She was concerned, because she had heard Harry Potter and his friends talking on the train - accidentally of course - about how he was trying to kill Harry. She felt it was her obligation to help) in class. Apparently she fell out her chair although she was of the opinion Lydia pushed her, and talked in her sleep about dinosaurs and juggling cannon balls.

Lupin had helped her get up, looking quite annoyed, then asked her about the three obscure Dark hexes. When she had answered perfectly, then added extra information about who created them (Jem Gleebenstock) when (1678) and in what situations they were used (areas where the air was full of sulphur for full affect and to inflict heart attacks) and how to block them (the Protgeneo charm - more complex than Protgeo), he seemed satisfied. Although he still continued to pick on her, he was never angry when she arrived late, which she continually did, asked random questions about manticores when they were studying werewolves and handed in lists about how to annoy Snape instead of essays by accident. And she earned about two hundred points for Gryffindor a week, although she lost about the same in Potions. She seemed to have a natural affinity for DADA, which she contributed completely towards the teacher. She only wished she were half as good at her other subjects.

ìIíll talk to Dumbledore about it,î he said finally, one arm wrapped round his waist and the other stroking his chin. Faith squealed, jumped off the desk she had been sitting on, hugged Lupin and rushed out his office, banging the door. Lupin stood there, shaking his head and smiling.

****

ìHowís Ravenclaw?î asked Faith. ìDoes the common room have bookshelves up to the ceiling? Do people get cry if they get their homework back and shock, shock, horror, horror, theyíve not got full marks?î she teased, swinging her legs back and forth.

They were sitting on the roof, or rather, chimney pots on the roof and star gazing. The sun had just set and rays waves of colour into the sky, dark reds and oranges, sitting on the chimney pots on Hogwarts roof, with the sky above, the lake and forest and quidditch pitch below was breathtaking. It was also slightly cold, she could see her breath so Faith wrapped her coat more tightly around her, dully noting it was a half moon. Since they had started school two weeks ago, they had hardly seen each other, which was what Faith had been afraid of.

ìNo. Donít stereotype. Theyíre nice people. They are rather bookish, but not obsessive and theyíre not boring,î he insisted, scratching his head. Faith turned and studied him for a second. She could see what Lydia ranted on about; he was good looking. He was tall, maybe six foot. Faith couldnít tell within the inch, like some people; he was taller than her, she knew that. And more muscular. He had tried out for the Quidditch team and got on, so he was working out now. Faith felt her loyalties tested. Would she support Gryfindor, her house (and Oliver Wood - the hottie) or her best mate in the world when it came to a Gryfindor vs. Ravenclaw match? She brushed it aside for now and continued looking at him while he continued protesting about how the stereotypes of the Hogwarts houses were degrading and false and gave everyone a pre-conceived notion about how to treat everyone. ìJust look at Gryffindor/Slytherin rivalryÖî he was saying. Faith agreed with him and had been ranting about it to Lydia yesterday and she knew from experience he didnít want someone to agree with him right now - heíd have to stop ranting for one. Best to let him get it out his system.

He had a long nose, she noted. It was straight, a rather noble nose. He was quite tanned and had light green eyes and dark brown hair. He wasnít physically repulsive, she supposed. And he was fun, hadnít they invented roller tennis, the best game in the universe (a combination of tennis and roller skating, best played inside where it became dangerous)? Hadnít he been a shoulder to cry on when she got upset at the cruelness of the world? Didnít they know all each otherís secrets? Well, except for her Sirius Black obsession, although she was going to share that soon. She would need help breaking into the Ministry of Magic to duplicate his files. And her tiny, small, miniscule, barely-even-in-existence crush on the DADA teacher. But that wasnít important.

And she knew and understood him and his faults. Why wasnít she attracted to him? It bothered her a bit, but then, if she was attracted to Jack, then she couldnít set him up with Lydia on the first trip to Hogsmeade, and where would be the fun in that?

Jack had stopped speaking and was looking at her expectedly. ìI understand,î she said, neutrally, hoping that was the right answer. He smiled.

ìI knew you would,î he replied. ìWeíre only in two classes together,î he lamented. ìCharms and Transfiguration.î Jack was a wiz at transfiguration, he could do the most complex spells first time, perfectly, while Faith was still struggling on her fifth. Faith told Jack he should just get it over with and marry McGonagoll several times every day. She told herself it was because he was a pureblood and had known, and still knew more about magic than she ever would, but deep down, she knew. It made her really upset, she was easily the worst in the class and had heard several comparison towards Neville Longbottom - which wasnít flattering even though she liked him.

ìWeíll see each other at weekends - although you were busy at Quidditch try outs last week,î she encouraged. He sighed.

ìAnd most other weekends,î he paused. ìBut thereís a Hogsmeade weekend soon,î he said, brightening up, ìwe could go to that?î

ìFantabulous!î cried Faith, all excited at getting to explore the only wizard village in Britain, Honeydukes, the Three Broomsticks, the shrieking shackÖshe looked over at the full moon involuntarily almost. InterestingÖ.But wait! She had forgotten about, ìLydia!î

ìWho? Is that the blonde youíre hanging out with? Pretty girl, but Iím prettier,î he said. Faith rolled her eyes. Jack was so silly sometimes.

ìYeah. Sheís way cooler than you,î said Faith, in a matter of fact voice. ìLess hygienically challenged.î Jack snorted. ìBut she fancies you, the poor deluded soul. So Iím setting you up. Iíve decided that the Hogsmeade weekend would be perfect, because that way, when she finds out how boring you really are, she can be distracted by all the wonder that Hogsmeade.î

Jack looked unimpressed. ìWell, first off, of course she is attracted to me, who isnít?î Faithís turn to snort. ìSecondly, you canít tell me what to do. I can and will push you of your chimney. Thirdly, we are going to Hogsmeade, together, because I want to see if I can lock you in the Shrieking Shack,î

ìCool. Wish Iíd thought of that,î praised Faith, grinning.

ìI know. And weíre going to try and get served fire whisky at the Three Broomsticks-î he continued, getting into his stride.

ìCanít. Weasely twins tried and got shot down,î revealed Faith. She was quite fond of the Weasely twins, she felt they all had the same explosive, disrespecting authority rebellious attitude. They were damn funny.

ìWeíre of age,î argued Jack.

ìApparently, all students arenít to be sold alcohol,î said Faith, who looked disappointed. ìShame, really.î

ìWell, we could-î

ì Go on a date. Youíll have fun, youíre allowed to show off ëcos I wonít be there to hit you,î offered Faith, who thought she was winning. ìIíll go with someone else.î

ìOh alright. But I better have fun. If I donít, Iíll kill you. A lot,î threatened Jack. Faith just smiled and shook her head. They looked out at the stars for a minute, twinkling happily at them like thousands of Tinkerbells really far away. ìSheís the pretty one, right?î asked Jack, who was sounding a lot more interested.

Faith nodded. Faith Knight, master manipulator.

*****

ìSo why did you and Jack move schools? And for the last year?î asked Lydia. It was the end of September, a whole month until the Hogsmeade weekend, or The Date as it was now known as. Lydia had decided that she had to look perfect every time there was a chance that Jack would be in the vicinity, in case he saw her when she was looking sweaty, or had a sudden spot outbreak and decided he didnít want to go on a date with her after all. She was quite adamant about it. Faith supposed she just really liked Jack, so was trying really hard, but wished she would calm down. A month, a month! And what happens when they actually start dating? Faith wanted to cry. Except she didnít, she ignored it and gave neutral remarks when Lydia stood in front of the mirror, posing.

ìIím not sure. Itís tooÖpreppy,î she decided. She took her jeans off and folded them over her bed and scrambled about in her drawers, throwing pink t shirts, green jumpers, more jeans over her head. ìA skirt, maybeî she mumbled to herself.

Faith was lying on her bed, reading the Witch Weekly magazine, watching the pictures moving. Apparently a new broomstick was on the market, something called a Firebolt and it was amazing; international players were using it. She needed something to talk to Oliver Wood about and he was Quidditch mad.

ìSo?î asked Lydia. She was now in a red v-neck top, and a black knee length skirt, which contrasted well with her light blonde hair.

ìHmmm,î said Faith. ìWhat shoes are you going to wear with that?î she asked. Lydia looked concerned for a second, then dug in her cupboard. ìAre you sure youíre not trying to hard? You might want to go for the casual look, yíknow?î Please go for the casual look, she pleaded internally, and not turn up for dinner in a ball gown. They were now half an hour late for dinner and her stomach was rumbling. Lydia claimed they would ìmake an entranceî. Whatever that meant.

ìYeahÖyouíre right,î conceded Lydia, after a last glance in the mirror and pulled her jeans back on. ìSo why did you join this late? Get kicked out?ì she joked.

ìOh totally,î she deadpanned. She hated lying to Lydia like this, but she couldnít tell the truth. Dumbledore didnít even know the truth, so she could hardly tell Lydia, even if she really did want to. ìNo, we just really wanted to go to Hogwarts, instead of the smaller academies. Hogwarts is really cool. We just wanted better opportunities,î she lied.

ìHogwarts is amazing,î agreed Lydia, as they finally left their dorm and walked out the common room. ìI mean, just look at it!î They stopped for a second.

There was a drop of fifty feet below them, although they were protected by a balcony. The painting of Septimus Zaida in his gold robes, was directly in front of them, twice as large as in life, eating grapes the size of balloons. Looking up the spirals of the staircases and the ceiling, from which a huge chandelier hung, and moving stair cases. It was all rather surreal. They jumped on a staircase now.

ìFaith, stop jumping up and down! What are you on, springs?î said Lydia. They hopped off the stairs and Faith grabbed Lydia and dragged her down the stairs leading to the Great Hall.

ìIím really hungry!î

They half ran into the hall, Lydia complaining loudly about being manhandled, when lots of students turned around and stared at them. Lydia, who hated being the centre of attention, turned bright red faster than lightening. Faith looked up at the staff table, saw Dumbledore smiling and Remus, waved, then-

ìNo! Theyíve eaten all the quiche!î

Lydia wanted to die of embarrassment. Could Faith act less like a five year old for a change? They sat down at their table, to the grinning faces of the Weasely twins. ìSaved you some quiche, Faith,î they said simultaneously. She smiled gratefully and got stuck in.

ìFaith!î hissed Lydia, not touching her food. ìCould you be less of a psychopath?î Faith looked up surprised, as did some of the other seventh years, Oliver Wood, Hugh something or other and Jess, looked over. Lydiaís voice grew more exasperated and louder. ìThat was so embarrassing! Do you have to act like everythingís a joke? With a huge grin on your face? Canít you be more normal?î she shouted, her face still red and her eyes angry.

Faith looked at the ground, completely silent and serious. ìI suppose I am kind of ridiculous,î she said, her voice flat. She stood up, walked away from the table, her eyes suspiciously full of tears. She hugged herself, suddenly feeling horribly alone. Then she turned back and walked towards Lydia, who had a guilty look on her face. The people at the table looked at her apprehensively, thinking that she was coming to start a fight, to retaliate with Lydia, but she just picked up her quiche.

ìForgot this,î she mumbled, wrapping it in a napkin and walked away again.

*****

Later on that night, she found herself outside Professor Lupinís office. After having had a huge blow to her self confidence, which wasnít as stable as she previously thought, she wasnít sure if she wanted to go inside. But she needed a friendly face. She needed to tell someone, at least the part she was at liberty to tell.

She knocked and popped her head round. ìHi. Can I come and talk to you?î she asked. Remus stood up, walked over and pulled the door open.

ìOf course. You donít even need to ask,î he replied. She sat down in front of his desk, and once again, he leant on it. They sat in silence for a while, Faith examining her nails, and Remus looking at her tear stained face, noting her resemblance to someone who had once been his friend. He held a tissue out to her.

ìThanks. My eyeliners run,î she mumbled. She bit her lip, stood up and walked over to his bookcase. ìI need to tell someone. Jack already knows, Iím not sure if Lydiaís talking to me and Iím not telling McGonagoll,î she said. ìI donít want to go all teenage angst on you-î she began.

ìYou can tell me anything, Faith,î said Remus, calmly and concernedly. She sighed.

ìThis is so cheesy. And clichÈ. And downright annoying and its only because Iím overly emotional right now that Iím revealing anything and stuff. Iím not articulating this very well, am I?î she asked, turning around very suddenly and Remus was worried to see tears flowing down her face again. ìMust stop crying, Iím such a loser,î she mumbled to herself.

ìNo youíre not, Faith,î he soothed, and lead her back to her seat and dragged his seat next to her. ìGet it off your chest, itís obviously bothering you, youíll feel much better,î he urged, sitting down and holding her hands.

ìOk, well, last yearÖî

****

ìAnd she told you all this?î asked McGonagoll, visibly shaken. Dumbledore had not said anything yet, Remus was sure he was still thinking. ìWhy not me? Iím her Head of House-î

ìI suppose sheís more comfortable with me, she did ask to be my teacherís assistant,î explained Remus, he turned to look at Dumbledore, who was sitting behind his desk, his face pensive.

Dumbledoreís office was amazing. A white circular room, it was lined with previous Headmasterís, who were snoring right now, their chests lightly going up and down. The wooden floor was covered with Persian and Arabic mismatched carpets that smacked over opulence, and there were more books, huge textbooks with crisp yellow pages laid out on the floor, and strange magical objects, like a spinning globe, and other odd knick knacks decked out his office. But Fawkes was truly the most magnificent. Remus was sure that James had been sent so many times to the Headmasterís office just to see Fawkes, misbehaving just an excuse. Shame it had been his Burning Day recently.

ìIt is unfortunate that Faithís family have died recently. It was certainly not in her files sent from her previous school. Allowances must be made-î

ìNo!î shouted Remus. They both stared at him. Remus Lupin, yelling at the Headmaster, was not a common sight. ìShe told me I could tell you, but that you shouldnít treat her any different, and pretend you donít know,î he continued.

ìRemus,î began McGonagoll, ìThatís just silly-î

ìNo, Minerva,î interrupted Dumbledore. ìif that is her wish, we must adhere to it. Treating her differently would only remind her of her parentís demise.î He looked tired, Remus noted, as he always did when something tragic happened.

ìShe wants to be my teacher assistantÖî began Remus, absentmindedly. McGonagoll looked up, sharply.

ìAbsolutely not! That girl has enough to contend with!î she cried, outraged. Dumbledore looked at Remus quizzically for a second.

ìPerhaps it would take her mind of less pleasant topics,î he said quietly. McGonagoll scowled, her lips pursed and drew herself up taller in her chair.

ìShe lacks the concentration, the discipline, and may I say it the intelligence-î she listed.

ìFaith Knight is a lot more intelligent than she shows,î interrupted Dumbledore. She frowned.

ìI doubt it. In Transfiguration she spends too much of her time staring at Oliver Wood or giggling with Lydia Brown. Filius tells me that in Charms she barely pays attention and is averaging the class, Severus gives her detentions weekly! And in Divination, well. She is apparently very good, but that probably has more to do with her personality than any talent in that area-î she ranted, going pink in the face.

ìShe is excellent in my class,î Remus fairly stated. ìCompletely disorganised, but brilliant. She has more knowledge of the subject than any seventh year I know, and practically, she goes from strength to strength. And, admittedly, she is fun to work with, outspoken, asks interesting questions,î he continued. Dumbledore stared into the distance.

ìWhy is it that she works for you, but none of her other teachers?î he asked rhetorically. ìI think that, if you were to tell her that she could become your teacherís assistant,î

ìBut Albus! She doesnít even want to be a teacher! Her motives are most likely-î cried McGonagoll, who felt this meeting was going from bad to worse.

ìIf,î continued Dumbledore patiently, ìIf she was too improve in Transfiguration, Charms and Potions by one grade. I think that, perhaps, that would work,î he said, his eyes twinkling. Remus felt sure he was teasing him.

ìIíll do my best,î he offered, tiredly. God knows, if she could help with the first and second yearís markings he would be a lot less tired. Maybe this was a good thing. Then he remembered it was Faith Knight they were talking about.

****