"Severus, a word please."
The familiar voice stopped Severus Snape as he walked down the corridor, alone as always. He had been striding towards his office, preparing to begin yet another year of teaching Potions at Hogwarts. As with the start of every school year, he had hoped there'd be a change in the curriculum, but since he hadn't heard otherwise, he assumed he'd been passed over. Again. The voice in the hallway, however, brought the barest of glimmers of hope.
Snape turned on his heel and treaded over to join the headmaster of Hogwarts where he sat on a bench under a window. The summer sunshine poured in, and Dumbledore stared over his shoulder, looking outside with a wistful look in his vibrant blue eyes. With a sigh, he turned to look at his Potions professor, a tired sort of look crossing his face. It made Snape uncomfortably aware of many things; Dumbledore's age, the work he'd been pouring into the school and the Order, the struggles of the last few years.
"Severus, as you know, the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor has once again been left vacant. And, once again, it needs to be filled. However", he said, stopping the look of hope from spreading across Snape's face, "you will be remaining in your department again this term. You are, quite simply, more needed in Potions than you are in Defense Against the Dark Arts." He held his hand up to stop the protest that struggled to pass Snape's lips. "The discussion is over, Severus. I'm sorry. The Order needs you to remain where you are, and not for someone else to take your place".
Snape drew a painful breath. What hope he'd had of moving from the dankness of the Potions lair had, once again, been dashed. Why he even bothered anymore was beyond him. "Well, Headmaster, may I ask who was good enough to take the position?"
The look Dumbledore shot Snape was filled with more sympathy than the one he gave him seconds ago when he broke the news. Snape hadn't thought that was possible, and felt a cold shiver pass through him. He wasn't used to being on the receiving end of Albus Dumbledore's sympathetic graces. In a small voice, the headmaster replied, "Desdemona Drecorum."
Snape remained seated at the bench, even after Dumbledore rose, patted him on the shoulder, and walked away. He couldn't have risen if he tried; his legs would have simply given out from under him. A look of shock, disbelief, and pain warred for control of his sharp facial features. He couldn't believe what Dumbledore had just told him. He never thought it would happen. Of all people to be filling the position he wanted to teach...after twenty-five years, it was almost too much to expect.
Desi was coming back to Hogwarts.
Students filled the Great Hall for the annual sorting and feast that followed. For the students, there were few changes. The only new face that looked back from them from the Head Table was that of a petite woman, with long auburn hair and striking blue eyes that could be seen from halfway down the Gryffindor table. Seated at that position, and making that observation, were a trio of students known the school over. Three heads were close together in rapid conversation; a mix of black, red, and brown hair known throughout Hogwarts as Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger.
"She mubbe de new Defen Again the Dargarts purfesur" Ron mumbled, his mouth full as usual with the food laden before him.
Harry piped in. "But why is she sitting where crackpot Trelawney usually sits? Why isn't she down near Snape, like all the others?"
"Honestly, Ron, couldn't you at least swallow?" Hermione rolled her eyes at his freckled face. "Probably because she's the seventh person in as many years to hold that job, and Snape's been after it even longer. Dumbledore probably thought it prudent to separate them. Remember, he hasn't always been civil to professors in the past, and last year was certainly no exception."
Harry couldn't stop staring at her. She looked vaguely familiar, like a relative of someone he'd known years ago or something. The blue eyes that looked around the hall struck him, but it was more than just the eyes. It was the posturing, the way she seemed to look around the room, the aura that surrounded her. It was eerie, but he couldn't place it, and that bothered him. He was so intent on staring at her that he failed to notice when a hurled roll hit the back of his head. He barely heard Hermione's warning to ignore Draco Malfoy and his immature tactics. He hadn't even noticed Dumbledore rise and approach the podium.
"Welcome, students, to yet another year at Hogwarts. As many of you know, the times have indeed become troubled and dark, but within this school, we will remain as one large family, as we have for centuries. And now, I'd like to introduce you to the latest member of that family, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Desdemona Du-Drecorum."
Hardly anyone noticed the stutter in Dumbledore's introduction, but Hermione did. "That's odd. Dumbledore rarely ever makes mistakes like that."
"Aw, 'Miony, leave off him. He's probably had a long day, what with the order and preparing for today and all. Let it go", Ron said, preparing to stuff another bite into his mouth as Dumbledore's welcoming speech continued.
Desdemona Drecorum stared out at the large crowd of students before her. Her large blue eyes could pick out students whose parents she once knew. The pair of redheads at the Gryffindor table could only be from Arthur Weasley, she smiled. Poor guy stumbled through transfiguration but was incredible in Muggle Studies. Too bad he'd graduated her first year, otherwise they could have shared horror stories of transfiguration class. The white-blonde Slytherin looked so much like Lucius Malfoy it made her shiver and narrow her eyes slightly. A girl over in Hufflepuff looked like one of the many Abbotts she'd known in school.
Never once did she let her eyes graze over to the opposite end of the table at which she sat.
What possessed her to take this position? What in the name of Godric Gryffindor made her accept when that owl came, asking her to take over the Defense Against the Dark Arts class? 'Desi, girl, you knew better than that!' She told herself over and over. 'You knew he was here! You knew! What were you hoping to prove, anyway? Do you just enjoy raking yourself across coals?'
Desi had no answer for herself.
Then she heard the Headmaster's mistake during her introduction. Although she rose smoothly and gave a look of serene contentment when waving at the congregation of faces in front of her, alarms and bells went off in her mind. He almost...
'But he didn't, so never mind', her inner voice chided.
Finally, the feast was over and Desi was free to flee the Great Hall. Although she remembered being in awe of it once, tonight it had been nothing short of a prison. She smoothly rose from the table and walked out as if nothing was bothering her. Once outside, though, her footsteps quickened as she headed for her office. Out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw black robes swirl behind her as she rounded a corner. 'Not tonight...' she sighed in the safety of her mind, as she wrenched the heavy door open and flew inside the safety of the dark room, closing and latching the heavy door behind her.
"What kind of a day is this, anyway?" Harry moaned as he left his not-so-beloved Potions class, Ron in tow. "It's only the first day of class, and I've never seen Snape so unorganized, so distracted. What's gotten into him?"
Ron shrugged. "Maybe he's been pulling late nights for the Order. Who knows? Doesn't matter; first time in forever where he hasn't assigned three feet of parchment on some trivial thing or another. I'll take this Snape over the overly-abusive-to Gryffindor one any day!"
Something didn't sit well with Harry. Snape had pulled long hours for the Order before, and had never looked so out-of-focus. This was something new. And odd.
Hermione grabbed both of them by the elbow. "C'mon, you two, or we'll be late! Defense Against the Dark Arts begins in three minutes! Don't you want to get there?"
Ron snorted. "Not if this one ends up as big of a crackpot as most of the professors in that class have been."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I overheard McGonagall and Flitwick in the hallway. She's shaping up to be almost as good as Lupin. Maybe we'll learn something with a professor for a change." Both boys just sighed and followed their friend to class.
When they arrived, they were in for a shock. All four houses were in one classroom, possibly for the first time ever. Since the war began, Defense Against the Dark Arts had become a requirement for all the years, and not merely a NEWT level class for the sixth-and-seventh years, but still they'd never all been brought together like this before. An even bigger shock was the petite woman in front of the class. Crimson robes brought out the red highlights in her hair, and she watched them all enter with a careful stare. That was the only indication she was directing the class. She sat, casually perched, on her desk, the chalkboard behind her empty.
The only empty seats in the Gryffindor section were too close to Slytherin for comfort, but nevertheless Harry, Ron, and Hermione took them. Ignoring the snide commentary in a Malfoy-laced voice, the three pulled out books.
Finally, the woman spoke as she rose from her desk. "Good afternoon, class. Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts for the seventh, and final, year for you all. As you all know from last evening, I am Desdemona Drecorum, and I will teach this class this year. Now, from what I've gathered, you've had an interesting few years of learning in this class. You've managed to have one competent teacher out of them all. Among them; a moronic idiot with more teeth than brain cells," (a comment which caused some sighs amongst the girls), "a zealot who wouldn't know dark arts if they offered to come over and decorate her home, a professor in disguise, and a lackey for Voldemort.
"And the first lesson for the day is this," she cried, after watching the vast majority of the room cringe at her use of a particular name. "I will not be wasting my breath by saying such drivel as "he who must not be named" or "you know who". Last I checked, uttering this particular name isn't going to cause the sky to fall or for me to drop dead from a lightening bolt, so the rest of you can stop being so scared of it as well. For crying out loud, his name is Voldemort, people. Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort!" Every repetition of the name got louder, until she was almost screaming, and she stomped her foot with every word for emphasis. "So, get used to it."
She began pacing the room, which was difficult considering the number of students crammed into it. "For today, you can put your books away. I'm going to establish my parameters for this class, and then we'll dismiss. Some days, all four houses will be in here together, and that schedule is on the board." As she said this, she pointed her wand at the empty chalkboard, which instantly filled with words. "The rest of the time will be individual houses. All of you have different talents, and your houses pull together similar ones. However, you cannot all fight the Dark Arts equally. You need to learn how to do so in a fashion you are best suited for. Therefore, this schedule.
"As for this class itself, I want to begin by reminding you of what you're learning to defend against. It's all too easy to assume you understand, but rarely do you truly know. The Dark Arts is more than unforgivable curses or dark marks or evil actions." At every point, she stared hard at another student; her eyes seemed to hit every person in the room, almost all of whom stared back at her with equal intensity. "The Dark Arts are a choice, a way of life. A philosophy, if you will. The Dark Arts is not a destiny, not a fate, and not a birthright." At these words, her gaze burned into Draco Malfoy's shining grey eyes, and for the first time that Harry had ever known him, there was no smug look on his face. In fact, he looked slightly ashamed. "They are not, I repeat, a birthright. We all make a conscious decision, in free will, to turn our lives over to the Dark Arts or not."
By now, Harry could see the new professor's eyes shining as if there were unshed tears in them, and noticed her hands were clenched in shaking fists. Almost as if she noticed this too, she let go, spun on her heel, and walked back to the front of the class.
Breathing deeply, she turned again to face her students. "So, that being said, let us all recall that it is our actions, deeds, and choices that make up the Dark Arts. Not spells or potions or incantations. Free will. So, I will not tolerate any backbiting, any commentary, or any rude remarks about who may and may not end up practicing the Dark Arts. Anyone caught doing so in this class will lose fifty house points and serve a month's worth of detentions. Do I make myself clear?" When everyone in the class nodded in unison, she continued.
"Also, from what I understand, in previous years, you practiced Defense Against the Dark Arts in groups on your own. I strongly encourage you to continue this. In fact, extra credit will go to those who participate in such groups. Sometimes, there are things you need to work out for yourselves, and this will give you ample practice."
The professor continued, offering up commentary on how some of the best lessons in class aren't learned from books, how she expected students to bring common sense as well as their classroom intellect into the room, and other expectations. The class was dismissed with a buzz of excitement from every school house except Slytherin, who all seemed to leave with looks of self-reflection on their faces.
Desi sighed and sank into her office chair as the last of them left. Finally, she was alone with her thoughts. Why did she accept this position, she asked herself for probably the thousandth time. But she knew why. The owl had come, as she knew it someday would. The message inside was clear and direct, unlike the usual style of the man who sent it. Usually cryptic, for once, Albus Dumbledore was straightforward and honest.
"You're the only one I can trust to teach this course that isn't otherwise working with the Order. I know the subject isn't your strongest suit, but you of all people know my reasons for hiring outside of the school for this particular class. You've been in hiding long enough; sooner or later the truth will have to come out. That might as well happen here. I know I have no right to ask this of you, but I'm out of choices. Come back to your home. Desdemona, please, don't make an old man beg. Hogwarts needs you."
The memories of the letter had consumed her; she never heard the rustle of feathers until she felt a beak at her hand, and a smooth head caressing the back of it.
"Fawkes, it's been far too long." Desi reached over to pet the phoenix, as she once had done many years before.
"He's missed you, Desdemona. As have I." An elderly voice spoke from the doorway, and Albus Dumbledore himself entered the classroom. "As you see, while some things in this world change greatly, some still stubbornly remain the same."
"That's something I'd never be able to forget, sir."
"Why the formality, Desdemona?"
She shot the headmaster a dumbfounded look. "Why? Because it's respectful, for one. My parents raised me to respect my elders." A sad sort of smile crossed her face.
He smiled. "Good. I had hoped it wasn't for some other silly reason. Now, how did your first day on the other side of the classroom go?"
Desi sighed deeply, a habit she was developing thanks to being at the school. "As well as expected. I think a few of the Slytherin house have something to think about, if nothing else. Other than that, not really much of anything. It's going to be a long year."
Dumbledore looked at her closely, as if measuring her resolve. "Reach them, Desdemona. If even one or two choose a different path than their forefathers, you've done the Order a great service. Reach them, and then teach them."
Desi rolled her eyes. "What makes you think I can?"
Dumbledore beckoned for his bird to sit on his shoulder as he turned to leave the classroom. "Because, dear child, you've done it once before, even if you don't realize it. I expect you can do it again. And besides, you were always my best student."
Once again alone, Desi sat, more confused than ever.