A/N: Yes, I know it's a Sue. Don't look at me like that. It's a direct
result of too much badfic, and PPC-ing. When you swim in it, you pick up...
germs. Feel free to flame, MST and mock. I'm too disgusted with myself. And
like most Sue-authors, I'm skipping pretty much everything until Hogwarts.
Why bother? My Sue's not in it.
*
It was only at the Feast in the Great Hall that Harry noticed something rather odd. He looked over the heads of the bickering Hermione and Ron, presently discussing treatment of cocky first years, towards the teachers' table, and noted the addition of an extra teacher. Defence Against the Dark Arts professor seemed most likely. He shuddered at the memory of Umbridge, and swallowing a mouthful of shepherd's pie, he watched the new professor intently.
He was a thin man, with a rather pinched face, sandy brown hair and worried- looking appearance, enveloped in his robes. Still, he was passing peas to Professor McGonagall, seemed to be harmless, wasn't wearing lavender, and didn't set off sparks of pain in his forehead, so he passed the first test.
He caught Ron's eye, and indicated the new teacher. "Guess Snape missed out again?"
Ron grinned back at him. "That's worth, I'd say, ten house-points from Gryffindor. Evil git. Tough luck we all picked Potions, isn't it?"
"Yeah," Harry shook his head, sighing heavily. "Snape for another two years." He continued the banter light-heartedly, ignoring the concerned look that never really seemed to leave his friends' eyes. Ron tended to forget to be sympathetic if Harry didn't appear unhappy, and Hermione hid her concern a great deal better.
Presently, though, she was scowling at them both indignantly, chewing vigorously in order to tell them off with her mouth empty.
"Honestly, you two, you'd think you'd set a better example to the first years," she shook her head in disbelief. Ron frowned, puzzled, and gave an exaggerated look around.
"Hermione, there aren't any first years here. We're sixth years. They're too flaming scared of us. Except that new cheeky one on the train," he sniffed, with the wounded expression of a prefect whose authority had been flouted.
As the two both continued to argue, Harry smiling at the predictability of his friends, he glanced back up at the table on the dais. A girl leant against the chair, whispering something in the new professor's ear. He frowned, as she looked up, regarded him calmly, then went back to talking with the professor, completely ignoring him.
Harry shook his head, as Dumbledore rose from his seat, the last vestiges of the feast disappearing from the plates.
"Another school year," he began, his gaze roaming over the four tables, each with their new addition of first years. To Ron's intense dislike, the cheeky one had joined the Gryffindors. "And even in these dangerous times, our students have come back to us. I wish to welcome you all," he extended his arms in a gesture encompassing the school, "A few announcements. Mr Filch would like to announce that products of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes are not allowed on the school grounds." Dumbledore allowed himself a small smile at that. Filch's loathing for his nemesises' products was well established by the end of the first hour of students arriving.
"Hagrid would like to let it be known he is looking for several volunteers, third years or above, to exercise some of his new.." Dumbledore searched for a word, some of the students who had experienced Hagrid's lessons already looking fearful, and settled on, "finds for his classes. Professor Grubblyplank also joins us as an additional member of staff." He began clapping, signalling the students to do so.
"Why do they want two professors?" Harry asked, completely baffled. Hermione sighed, and tsked.
"Isn't it obvious?" she hissed. "With Voldemort on the rise, they want as much protection for the students as possible."
Ah. Harry sank back, nodding vaguely. Dumbledore cleared his throat, and the Hall fell silent once more.
"In addition, I would like to welcome Professor Reynolds," he indicated the man Harry had spotted earlier, who flushed a little pink, and nodded quickly. "As Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts." Dumbledore smiled, and folded his hands over his beard. "Prefects, please take your houses up to their dormitories."
"That's us then," Ron said cheerfully. "Hermione, you get the annoying one."
"Ron, he's a boy."
"Still-"the red haired boy tried to argue as the two set off toward the first years. Harry stood up to go, and as he made his way towards the door at the end of the hall, when he brushed someone else in the crowd heading the same way.
"Sorry," he apologised, turning around. The girl who had been by Professor Reynolds earlier smiled back at him.
"It's all right," she said lightly. She frowned at him, stopping. "Hang on," she began slowly, staring at his forehead. "Are you-"
"Yes," he replied, wishing there was a less time-consuming way of sorting out that he was Harry Potter, really. Her eyes widened.
"Really? My dad wrote a whole paragraph on you," she exclaimed. She grinned at his puzzled expression. "He wrote a book. There are lots on that kind of thing, but Dad's boring like that. Bats about the dark arts." Obviously, his complete lack of understanding showed on his face. She laughed, and stuck out a hand.
"Georgia Reynolds. Pleased to meet you. Dad's going to be thrilled, especially if you're doing DADA. He's the new professor here." Understanding dawned on him. She grinned at him companionably, the expression scrunching up her nose, an infectious smile, and he felt his lips quirk up into an answering smile. She had distinct resemblances to the man, he could now see.
He noticed the normal clothing she wore, and frowned, puzzled once more. Georgia sighed.
"Oh, obviously I was stupid to introduce myself now. I'm not at school here. Well, not in the literal sense," she shook her head ruefully. "Dad's a muggle-born, and my mum's a muggle. Me too, I'm afraid. Magic sounds dead fun," she added wistfully. "Dad got the job here, so we followed him. Mum's a teacher too, but a muggle, so she's teaching me, see?" He wasn't quite sure he did, but nodded anyway.
"Maybe I'll meet loads of wizards and witches, and see magic besides Dad's"she finished hopefully. "I've known about it for ages, the wizarding world, I mean, and Dad was so hopeful, poor thing, that I'd be a witch. But I suppose muggle blood won out, and here I am." She sighed. She smiled once more at him.
"Nice to meet you, anyway. I'd better go, probably scared you silly," she laughed. "See you, probably." She ran off toward the now empty corridor, leaving Harry feeling rather as if he'd been knocked flat. She talked a lot.
A few things now cleared up, and far more information than he'd actually wanted to know about his new professor, including yet another mention of him on paper, he reminded himself with a wince, he headed toward Gryffindor Tower.
*
A/N: (the second) I probably should have included the perquisite description of Georgia, but she stuck her tongue out, and ran away before I could. As for the un-betaed state this is in, blame the Suvian tendencies. Furthermore, blame badfic. Any helpful suggestions, please don't. I know how bad this is, I far prefer flames. Unleash your inner evil.
*
It was only at the Feast in the Great Hall that Harry noticed something rather odd. He looked over the heads of the bickering Hermione and Ron, presently discussing treatment of cocky first years, towards the teachers' table, and noted the addition of an extra teacher. Defence Against the Dark Arts professor seemed most likely. He shuddered at the memory of Umbridge, and swallowing a mouthful of shepherd's pie, he watched the new professor intently.
He was a thin man, with a rather pinched face, sandy brown hair and worried- looking appearance, enveloped in his robes. Still, he was passing peas to Professor McGonagall, seemed to be harmless, wasn't wearing lavender, and didn't set off sparks of pain in his forehead, so he passed the first test.
He caught Ron's eye, and indicated the new teacher. "Guess Snape missed out again?"
Ron grinned back at him. "That's worth, I'd say, ten house-points from Gryffindor. Evil git. Tough luck we all picked Potions, isn't it?"
"Yeah," Harry shook his head, sighing heavily. "Snape for another two years." He continued the banter light-heartedly, ignoring the concerned look that never really seemed to leave his friends' eyes. Ron tended to forget to be sympathetic if Harry didn't appear unhappy, and Hermione hid her concern a great deal better.
Presently, though, she was scowling at them both indignantly, chewing vigorously in order to tell them off with her mouth empty.
"Honestly, you two, you'd think you'd set a better example to the first years," she shook her head in disbelief. Ron frowned, puzzled, and gave an exaggerated look around.
"Hermione, there aren't any first years here. We're sixth years. They're too flaming scared of us. Except that new cheeky one on the train," he sniffed, with the wounded expression of a prefect whose authority had been flouted.
As the two both continued to argue, Harry smiling at the predictability of his friends, he glanced back up at the table on the dais. A girl leant against the chair, whispering something in the new professor's ear. He frowned, as she looked up, regarded him calmly, then went back to talking with the professor, completely ignoring him.
Harry shook his head, as Dumbledore rose from his seat, the last vestiges of the feast disappearing from the plates.
"Another school year," he began, his gaze roaming over the four tables, each with their new addition of first years. To Ron's intense dislike, the cheeky one had joined the Gryffindors. "And even in these dangerous times, our students have come back to us. I wish to welcome you all," he extended his arms in a gesture encompassing the school, "A few announcements. Mr Filch would like to announce that products of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes are not allowed on the school grounds." Dumbledore allowed himself a small smile at that. Filch's loathing for his nemesises' products was well established by the end of the first hour of students arriving.
"Hagrid would like to let it be known he is looking for several volunteers, third years or above, to exercise some of his new.." Dumbledore searched for a word, some of the students who had experienced Hagrid's lessons already looking fearful, and settled on, "finds for his classes. Professor Grubblyplank also joins us as an additional member of staff." He began clapping, signalling the students to do so.
"Why do they want two professors?" Harry asked, completely baffled. Hermione sighed, and tsked.
"Isn't it obvious?" she hissed. "With Voldemort on the rise, they want as much protection for the students as possible."
Ah. Harry sank back, nodding vaguely. Dumbledore cleared his throat, and the Hall fell silent once more.
"In addition, I would like to welcome Professor Reynolds," he indicated the man Harry had spotted earlier, who flushed a little pink, and nodded quickly. "As Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts." Dumbledore smiled, and folded his hands over his beard. "Prefects, please take your houses up to their dormitories."
"That's us then," Ron said cheerfully. "Hermione, you get the annoying one."
"Ron, he's a boy."
"Still-"the red haired boy tried to argue as the two set off toward the first years. Harry stood up to go, and as he made his way towards the door at the end of the hall, when he brushed someone else in the crowd heading the same way.
"Sorry," he apologised, turning around. The girl who had been by Professor Reynolds earlier smiled back at him.
"It's all right," she said lightly. She frowned at him, stopping. "Hang on," she began slowly, staring at his forehead. "Are you-"
"Yes," he replied, wishing there was a less time-consuming way of sorting out that he was Harry Potter, really. Her eyes widened.
"Really? My dad wrote a whole paragraph on you," she exclaimed. She grinned at his puzzled expression. "He wrote a book. There are lots on that kind of thing, but Dad's boring like that. Bats about the dark arts." Obviously, his complete lack of understanding showed on his face. She laughed, and stuck out a hand.
"Georgia Reynolds. Pleased to meet you. Dad's going to be thrilled, especially if you're doing DADA. He's the new professor here." Understanding dawned on him. She grinned at him companionably, the expression scrunching up her nose, an infectious smile, and he felt his lips quirk up into an answering smile. She had distinct resemblances to the man, he could now see.
He noticed the normal clothing she wore, and frowned, puzzled once more. Georgia sighed.
"Oh, obviously I was stupid to introduce myself now. I'm not at school here. Well, not in the literal sense," she shook her head ruefully. "Dad's a muggle-born, and my mum's a muggle. Me too, I'm afraid. Magic sounds dead fun," she added wistfully. "Dad got the job here, so we followed him. Mum's a teacher too, but a muggle, so she's teaching me, see?" He wasn't quite sure he did, but nodded anyway.
"Maybe I'll meet loads of wizards and witches, and see magic besides Dad's"she finished hopefully. "I've known about it for ages, the wizarding world, I mean, and Dad was so hopeful, poor thing, that I'd be a witch. But I suppose muggle blood won out, and here I am." She sighed. She smiled once more at him.
"Nice to meet you, anyway. I'd better go, probably scared you silly," she laughed. "See you, probably." She ran off toward the now empty corridor, leaving Harry feeling rather as if he'd been knocked flat. She talked a lot.
A few things now cleared up, and far more information than he'd actually wanted to know about his new professor, including yet another mention of him on paper, he reminded himself with a wince, he headed toward Gryffindor Tower.
*
A/N: (the second) I probably should have included the perquisite description of Georgia, but she stuck her tongue out, and ran away before I could. As for the un-betaed state this is in, blame the Suvian tendencies. Furthermore, blame badfic. Any helpful suggestions, please don't. I know how bad this is, I far prefer flames. Unleash your inner evil.