Disclaimer: The wizarding world is based on the Harry Potter books by J.K. Rowling, I do not own most the characters, obviously. However, if you do not recognize the name from the books either your memory is lacking or it is an original and thus mine.

The air was scented faintly of ancient blood, dried and flecked into the grains of sand, dug into crevices of impenetrable granite. The presence was undeniable to the wolf as it paced around the stones, sniffing, eyes drifting up the night, catching the moon in its interloping from flecked cloud to cloud. A snarl rose in its throat as the winds shifted, bringing voices, smells.

"And why should we trust him?" came a voice, timid, suspicious. "Didn't even have the loyalty to take the dark mark."

"Wormtail, you fool," hissed another voice, this one snide and full of contempt, "our Dark Lord has other means than the mark to control his servants."

The wolf snarled, stretching its legs as it continued pacing, feeling the wind drift again and taking in the air of silence from another direction. The woods about were quiet; nature itself abhorred the presence of these men, debating the worth of the one who had just left their midst.

It was, perhaps, the sort of thing a proper animagus should bring straight to the attention of the Ministry, but no. There were too many things needed to explain this particular wolf's presence here. It snorted out dust before loping back into the forest, contemplating on what it had heard.

Once in the forest it was little more than a shadow, deepening others as it passed. Its fur was almost pure black, though its underside had white patches, and there were flecks of white about its snout. When light hit them its narrowed eyes glittered an odd colorless silver rather than the almost standard gold or bronze.

Morning was dawning by the time it had stopped, sitting on its haunches and panting softly. A town was relatively nearby and the area was starting to reek of people. In a moment, as wolfish eyes narrowed, it shifted, the human figure taking its place no less dark. A hood was brought about a pale face, shadowing most features, the cloak hanging loosely about an indistinct form.

Taran stood slowly, craning its neck to either side fingers from neck up the hidden jaw line and into hair with enough length that it showed despite the cloak, raven black without a hint of brown blemishing it, its only highlights in shades of blue. The silver eyes remained, filled with concern over one thing. No matter what came, all it knew was that the water it was treading was deep, and no matter what spells it could call forth on a moment's notice, it would do no good without sufficient caution.

Taran would have to be very careful from this point on...very...careful.

o-o-0-o-o

The school grounds were eerily quiet without the presence of the students. Taran was, perhaps just a bit nervous as it drew the cloak more tightly about itself. Eyes shifting from hallway to hallway it made its way forward, stopping in front of the gargoyle in resident guard of the headmaster's office, or at least, what others called such. Technically it was a grotesque, since gargoyle, derived from the same root as gargle, only applied to the stone figures that helped with drainage outside a castle. Not that Taran was about to point out the long standing idiosyncrasy now. "Skiving Snackbox," it said, voice clear and carrying, despite that it scarce capped a whisper, holding to it the airy quality of a forced hiss. What an interesting password for the headmaster of a school to be utilizing.

As the entrance revealed itself behind the grotesque Taran slid forward, moving slowly up the stairs before pausing at the final door to the headmaster's office. Straightening up just a bit it cleared its throat before giving a solid knock on the wooden door.

"Come in, come in," came the cheerful reply, before Taran had even had a chance to pull the hand back for a second knock.

Forehead wrinkling slightly, Taran opened the door, stepping into the room, eyes sliding from portrait to portrait before resting on Dumbledore. The aged wizard before him scarce fit the image of the one man Voldemort feared, he showed wisdom, yes, and there was perhaps power lurking somewhere, but foremost he seemed almost mad, if madness it could be called. A curious man, but then, he'd have to be, to even consider hiring Taran as a professor.

"Well, well, Taran Dilerd, please, have a seat, and don't bother keeping up your cowl, I can assure you it is quite unnecessary."

"I prefer it," Taran almost growled while taking the offered seat, watching the headmaster with sharp eyes.

Dumbledore was grinning at it, shaking his bearded head softly, in amusement perhaps. "Suit yourself, Professor, yes, I said Professor, because I've decided from what I've seen of your qualifications that you are, in fact, suited to teach our Defense Against Dark Arts class. Severus feared that by hiring you I'd be...how did he put it, letting the wolf loose amidst the sheep... but I have complete faith that you are the err...person for the job."

Taran's fists clenched ever so slightly at the wolf comment, though beyond that its reaction was kept to a minimal. It wasn't an easy thing, keeping straight-faced at the curiosity if Dumbledore-and the named professor-knew it was an unregistered animagus. However if they did, it seemed they had decided to keep quiet about it, something that eased Taran's mind some, considering this was perhaps its greatest secret.

"You...are going to accept...aren't you?" questioned Dumbledore after a long pause, seeming far less curious about what the answer would be and more about when it would come.

Taran fought back a wince that was scarce visible beneath its hood anyway. It had zoned out a bit in thought. If the headmaster had been seeking to know the truth to the implications, he would have it there. Taran grinned and gave a sharp nod as first acknowledgement, despite knowing that it would barely be notable, a mere shift in the fabric of the cowl. "Of course I accept, headmaster, it would be a privilege to help this fine school in preparing its pupils to deal with what lies ahead."

"Very good then," replied Dumbledore, something about his voice implying a...knowledge of Taran's sincerity. "You can find your room on your own I trust?"

The man was unnerving, unnerving in that for all his seeming honesty and overall simplicity, there was a great deal that lay hidden. It was enough to make Taran a bit uncomfortable. Perhaps Taran wasn't ready for this yet, but it was now or never; there was no choice but to continue. Taking this last question as a dismissal Taran stood, giving a simple, succinct nod, "I'm sure I can manage, thank you for opening the position to me."

With that it swiveled on its heel and made way back down the stairs and too its own room, curious what sort of impression it had made. This was its first teaching position, all its blunders could be chalked up to nerves, hopefully that was all it would be taken as. Taran shook it all off and breathed deeply in; so far so bad, but so long as it kept nerves to the background things could hardly go worse.

Author's Notes: Be forgiving of 'it' usage in reference to a person, however Taran is making a point of not telling anyone (even me!) a gender, so alas, I've had to manage. The main reason I went with 'it' was because though awkward seeming for a person, it worked fine when said person was a wolf, so I figured with some adaptation it would work. This is an interesting story for me in that it is my deep preference to only work with characters of my own creation rather than another author's for fear of maulization. However with this story's main as a teacher at Hogwarts I'm going to be deeply entangling my writing in the lives of Rowling's characters, likely throughout the whole of this fan-fiction. Be forgiving...please...

I'd rather like to know what people think of this, and of Taran, conspiracy theories, minor observations, etc. It would amuse me deeply. ;)