The Price of Lust And Love
School hadn't yet started, and somehow the castle seemed oddly empty without it's beloved students. The woman snorted at the thought, and made her way to the castle's entrance. As expected, the great doors were opened, and a woman awaited the visitor.
"Hello," she said when the stranger was close enough. Her accent was heavily English, and the strange woman's hand twitched, suppressing the urge to strangle her right there.
"Good day." She let her own Scottish accent leak through in dollops. "I'm here to apply for the job of Professor to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts."
"Well, then." The woman gave her a forced, tight-lipped smile, then turned on her heel.
"Follow me." She walked off, leading the visitor toward the Headmaster's office. She stopped in front of a large statue of a gargoyle, and bespoke it, saying, 'chocolate frogs.' The statue sprang into being, and leapt aside, a revealing a stairwell.
The woman - Professor McGonagall, as she gathered from the ad she'd read - walked up the stairs, and knocked on the door that awaited her. At the call to enter, she opened the door and walked in, politely holding it for the Scot. She walked in gracefully, head high, the briefcase she held not once banging against her leg.
She looked around the room, and spotted a perch near the door, on which stood a most strange bird. She studied it a moment, then turned to the man sitting behind the desk on the other side of the room.
"A new fired phoenix, I presume."
"Very astute of you, Miss." He too was English, though his accent was not so thick. She gave him a wry smile.
"As much as I'd love to, I'm here to apply for a job, not talk of a phoenix's life cycle - however interesting it might be."
The man nodded, a smile of his own appearing.
"Of course. I'm assuming that you are here for the opening of the Defense Against the Dark Arts position?" Before she could answer, he continued. "Of course, that is the only job opening we have, unless you desire the not-so- coveted job of caretaker's assistant?" His face was completely serious, but his eyes twinkled. It was to bad she had no sense of humor. Her eyes were hard, her jaw tightly shut. Her voice was icy as she spoke.
"That would be a complete waste of my talents, headmaster." She waited for his name to be given.
He responded in kind, becoming completely solemn. "Dumbledore," he said. "Professor Albus Dumbledore. And might I know the name of the woman who wants this job?"
"Demarga Ildder." She reached out a hand, which Dumbledore shook briefly. With a wave of his hand, he invited Ildder to sit. She did so, putting her briefcase on her lap and opening it.
"These are my recommendation papers, and my degree from Oxford's division for magical people. I majored in Dark Arts and their defenses." She waited, as Dumbledore looked the papers over. He took his time going about it, and for a moment, Ildder wondered if there was some mistake in the papers. But then Albus offered her a smile.
"These are all in order, but could you tell me what you would teach the students?"
"What I have learned myself. I will teach them how to protect themselves from the most powerful of Dark Arts curses and charms, depending on their age."
"And what of the Unforgivable Curses?"
Surely those in even the third year would know them!" She looked genuinely surprised. "Know of them, that is," she amended quickly.
"The fourth years and up learned them last year. I'm afraid that the students are a bit lacking in some areas of dangerous beasts, and defending powerful spells."
Ildder smiled. It was a cold thing that made her eyes look far harder than they were. "Not a problem." Her apparent glee at being hired - and she had no doubt, now, that he wouldn't hire her - was easily recognizable by Albus. He watched her carefully a moment, then allowed a smile.
"You're hired."
School hadn't yet started, and somehow the castle seemed oddly empty without it's beloved students. The woman snorted at the thought, and made her way to the castle's entrance. As expected, the great doors were opened, and a woman awaited the visitor.
"Hello," she said when the stranger was close enough. Her accent was heavily English, and the strange woman's hand twitched, suppressing the urge to strangle her right there.
"Good day." She let her own Scottish accent leak through in dollops. "I'm here to apply for the job of Professor to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts."
"Well, then." The woman gave her a forced, tight-lipped smile, then turned on her heel.
"Follow me." She walked off, leading the visitor toward the Headmaster's office. She stopped in front of a large statue of a gargoyle, and bespoke it, saying, 'chocolate frogs.' The statue sprang into being, and leapt aside, a revealing a stairwell.
The woman - Professor McGonagall, as she gathered from the ad she'd read - walked up the stairs, and knocked on the door that awaited her. At the call to enter, she opened the door and walked in, politely holding it for the Scot. She walked in gracefully, head high, the briefcase she held not once banging against her leg.
She looked around the room, and spotted a perch near the door, on which stood a most strange bird. She studied it a moment, then turned to the man sitting behind the desk on the other side of the room.
"A new fired phoenix, I presume."
"Very astute of you, Miss." He too was English, though his accent was not so thick. She gave him a wry smile.
"As much as I'd love to, I'm here to apply for a job, not talk of a phoenix's life cycle - however interesting it might be."
The man nodded, a smile of his own appearing.
"Of course. I'm assuming that you are here for the opening of the Defense Against the Dark Arts position?" Before she could answer, he continued. "Of course, that is the only job opening we have, unless you desire the not-so- coveted job of caretaker's assistant?" His face was completely serious, but his eyes twinkled. It was to bad she had no sense of humor. Her eyes were hard, her jaw tightly shut. Her voice was icy as she spoke.
"That would be a complete waste of my talents, headmaster." She waited for his name to be given.
He responded in kind, becoming completely solemn. "Dumbledore," he said. "Professor Albus Dumbledore. And might I know the name of the woman who wants this job?"
"Demarga Ildder." She reached out a hand, which Dumbledore shook briefly. With a wave of his hand, he invited Ildder to sit. She did so, putting her briefcase on her lap and opening it.
"These are my recommendation papers, and my degree from Oxford's division for magical people. I majored in Dark Arts and their defenses." She waited, as Dumbledore looked the papers over. He took his time going about it, and for a moment, Ildder wondered if there was some mistake in the papers. But then Albus offered her a smile.
"These are all in order, but could you tell me what you would teach the students?"
"What I have learned myself. I will teach them how to protect themselves from the most powerful of Dark Arts curses and charms, depending on their age."
"And what of the Unforgivable Curses?"
Surely those in even the third year would know them!" She looked genuinely surprised. "Know of them, that is," she amended quickly.
"The fourth years and up learned them last year. I'm afraid that the students are a bit lacking in some areas of dangerous beasts, and defending powerful spells."
Ildder smiled. It was a cold thing that made her eyes look far harder than they were. "Not a problem." Her apparent glee at being hired - and she had no doubt, now, that he wouldn't hire her - was easily recognizable by Albus. He watched her carefully a moment, then allowed a smile.
"You're hired."