“My name’s Teddy—Teddy Lupin,” said Teddy. 

“Victoire Weasley,” said the silver-haired girl. 

“Samantha Riddle—you can call me Sammy,” Sammy said. “Pleasure."

Standing at the head of the class was a petite woman with light blonde hair swinging down to the center of her back. She was dressed in all black.  She looked like a sheathed dagger, dangerous at a moment’s notice.

The woman sprawled her hands on the front desk, crowding a red-haired Ravenclaw, and leaned forward. “I am Professor Seward,” she stated. Her voice was not loud, but it rang clearly in the deathly quiet classroom.

She passed no one as she made her way up to the common room, one step at a time.  She pushed up with her legs, one by one.  Her rhythmic footsteps beat out a tune of suspected-suspected-suspected…

Sammy reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.  Looking, not at the ruined face, but at the frayed and ripped corner of the painting, she mumbled, “Scurvy-grass.”

"We'll show those Slytherins right up, everyone I know's been riding broomsticks since they were three!" boasted a wiry boy with mousy brown hair.

Sammy had rubbed her arms uncomfortably; she had never ridden a broom, nor did she have any desire at all to get on one.