Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and ideas owned and created by J.K. Rowling. As such, this author disclaims any proprietary interest in the story set forth and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's Note: This story officially takes place during year 6 at Hogwarts, however, with a few very limited exceptions, it is set as though HBP did not occur. This author is still undergoing intensive psychotherapyover the outcome of that one!
Please note, this story is rated M for language and scenes of adult content. Do not read if you are not of legal age!
Big thanks to Salogem24 - I couldn't have done this without your help or encouragement!
An American Muggle in Hogwarts
Chapter One: The Unexpected Assignment
Central Intelligence Agency Headquarters- Langley, VA
When Megan Jones, newly appointed CIA agent, heard of her first assignment, she thought for a brief moment that it was a joke, some sort of hazing ritual for new agents. Supervisory Agent James Marshall called her into his office, and after a few brief words of welcome, immediately advised her that her first mission, and one of the strictest secrecy, was to be the American representative in a delegation of various nations to observe the wizarding world in Britain.
"Wizards!" she said incredulously, "Like Merlin? They really exist?"
"I have no idea, Agent Jones," Marshall replied curtly. "I have only just learned of such a thing myself, from no less than the Vice President. It seems that the dramatic increase in mass homicides and terrorism may be coming from a new and unexpected threat altogether, a rogue wizard named Voldutran or some such nonsense."
Megan couldn't help but stifle a laugh as she waited for the punch line to end this ridiculous nonsense. When it did not come, she tuned back to Marshall's speech.
"Apparently, these wizards are located all over the world, including here in America, but they are all very enigmatic and try to avoid contact with the…normal world. However, some agency in Britain called the Ministry of Magic has felt it is time to let us all in on their little secret as this Voldu-whatever is getting out of control. Your job is to represent this agency and gather some much-needed intelligence. I want a report sent every other day to my office. You are to report to me only, and tell no one of your mission nor divulge anything that could compromise the security of this country. Do you understand your mission, Agent Jones?"
Hell no, she thought inwardly, considering the whole idea to be preposterous. The reason she became an agent in the first place was to protect her country, and here she was being shuffled off to play magic tricks in Britain! However, feeling it prudent not to voice her true feelings on her first day of work, she replied, "Yes sir, thank you for your confidence in me."
He grunted in reply, and handed her an airline ticket to Heathrow Airport, departing that very afternoon.
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London
Megan arrived in London the following evening, and having not slept at all on the plane, attributed the sight that welcomed her, at least initially, to sleep deprivation. Two very weirdly dressed men stood in the airport lobby holding a sign that appeared to say the word "Muggles", which had then been crossed out and replaced with "Non-magic Folks". Assuming that meant her, Megan approached the closest man, who was wearing black spandex running pants with a bright yellow mohair turtleneck. Having never been to Britain herself, Megan was unsure if this was standard fashion in the country and chose not to judge the man on his bizarre outfit. Instead, unsure of how exactly to approach him, and this being her first assignment, she flashed her badge in his face and said "Agent Megan Jones, CIA...er... Central Intelligence Agency. United States. Of America."
Way to make a first impression, she thought sheepishly to herself.
The yellow mohair man seemed nervous himself and said "Right then, I'm Aidan O'Brian, aide of International Magic Cooperation Office for the Ministry of Magic, and this here (pointing to his companion wearing a pink sweat suit) is Mick Kinane. On behalf of the wizarding world and Ministry of Magic, we'd like to welcome you to London. Now, if you'll just follow me please, we will be taking you to the Ministry, where you will join the rest of your delegation and meet with the Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour."
Megan took a deep breath and trailed the strange men outside to their waiting car.
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Ministry of Magic- London
An hour later, Megan was beginning to seriously regret ever having accepted the assignment, not to mention applying to the CIA in the first place. The trip to the Ministry had started off just fine; she was ushered into a nice, nondescript sedan, which although was driving on the wrong side of the road, seemed to be normal for at least this part of the world. However, after the car reached its destination, events began to take a major downturn when her escorts quickly steered her into a crammed telephone booth that transformed into an elevator, plummeting them all countless stories underground.
Worse than that, once the telephone booth/elevator finally stopped, she was led into a large room with numerous fireplaces that were spurting with green flames, and if Megan hadn't been so fatigued, she could have sworn she saw people standing in the flames. She hardly had time to gawk at her strange new surroundings, for her guides quickly deposited her into a large conference room and departed.
Situated in the middle of the room was a large rectangular table made of dark, rich wood, and supported by ornately carved legs. Along one side of the table sat what appeared to be the rest of her delegation. Two men and two women, all from different countries based on their looks and attire, were sitting nervously and shifting uncomfortably on their wooden seats. Sitting across from them were several of what Megan guessed to be wizards. While they were both male and female, they all were dressed in robes and cloaks, and looked to be like something Megan had envisioned in a Charles Dickens novel.
The wizard in the middle stood up and said, "Welcome Miss Jones! Please do take a seat. Now that you have arrived, we may commence our meeting. We do thank you all and your individual countries for coming at our request. Before we get down to business, I feel some introductions are in order. My name is Rufus Scrimgeour, and I am, as you may have guessed, the Minister of Magic for Britain. Seated with me, from left to right, are Nicholas Hines, Jonathon Magnier, Dolores Umbridge (she looks like a toad, Megan thought to herself), Arthur Weasley (he gave Megan a big grin and nodded his head), and Albus Dumbledore." Megan's attention shifted to a kindly old man with a very long silver beard and twinkling, blue, eyes.
"Now, it is our intention to pair each of you with one of our wizards, so that you may each observe a different and unique aspect of wizarding life," continued Rufus. "Mr. Hernandez of Mexico will be joined with Mr. Hines, head of the International Magical Office of Law. Miss Shumilov of Russia will be pairing with Ms. Umbridge (at least I'm not stuck with that unpleasant, old bitty, thought Megan gratefully) working in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Miss Kishimoto of Japan will be paired with Mr. Weasley, head of the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects. Mr. Shafa of Iran will join Mr. Magnier, Healer in Charge at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. And lastly, Miss Jones will be paired with Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
I'm getting sent back to school? thought Megan disbelievingly. What a waste of time! How can I possibly learn anything useful relating to terrorism and national security watching a bunch of teen pre-wizards playing at recess and drinking milk at snack time!
"Now that you have all been paired up," finished Rufus, "you are free to accompany your escorts to your respective destinations. They will provide you with the necessary accommodations for your stay. I'd like to schedule a debriefing with all of us here a week from Monday, however, if you need to reach me sooner, feel free to send an owl to my office."
An owl? Does he mean an actual bird or is that just British lingo for calling someone on the phone?
"Er, your host will explain an 'owl'", said Rufus as though reading Megan's mind. "Now I wish you all the best of luck in your endeavors!"
With the meeting adjourned, the newly paired partners stood up and began to talk amongst themselves. Megan felt slightly reticent as Albus Dumbledore approached her. From initial appearances, he seemed very kindly, like a favorite grandfather, or even Santa Claus, but something else about him suggested that he was not one to be trifled with.
"Miss Jones," he said merrily, "What a pleasure to meet you! I hope your journey was relatively painless?"
"Yes, thank you! And it is nice to meet you too, Mr. Dumbledore."
"Please, call me Albus. There is no need for such formalities; after all, we will be spending a lot of time together in the upcoming week. Now, I am sure you must be exhausted after your travels, if you'd like, we can proceed to Hogwarts without further ado."
"Hogwarts," replied Megan, "what an unusual name!"
"Indeed," said Dumbledore as they walked out of the conference room and turned down a corridor. "I trust you will find much at Hogwarts to be unusual. It is quite a remarkable place."
"So kids go to Hogwarts to learn magic tricks? Like how to pull rabbits out of hats?" asked Megan.
"Well, not exactly, as I am sure you will be finding out soon enough," he replied with a smile. "Although, the students do learn how to turn rabbits into hats."
Rounding a corner, they reached the large room with the fireplaces. Sure enough, green flames were shooting out of the grates, and wizards were stepping in and out as if it were a perfectly natural thing to do.
"Floo networks," explained Dumbledore, as though sensing her shock. "It is one method that wizards and witches use to navigate throughout our world."
"Is that how we are getting to your school?" trembled Megan. "I thought we might be taking a school bus or something."
"Alas," replied Dumbledore. "We do not have a bus that travels to Hogwarts save the Knight's Bus, and I fear that would be a more dreadful experience for you than the Floo Network. Now fear not, it is an entirely painless process, all you need do is take a good handful of this powder (he pulled some sandy material out of pouch), and drop it into the grate at the same time you clearly say 'Hogwarts'. Do you feel you can do this?" he asked, staring at her intently.
Megan prided herself on her ability to rise to the occasion in the face of great adversity. After all, she had graduated with highest honors after completing CIA training, and despite her petite size had given all her male classmates a run for their money. However, those trials seemed to pale in comparison to the task she was facing now: willingly submitting herself to be burned alive. Unfortunately, there seemed to be no other transportation option available, so not wanting to appear less than stoic, she nonchalantly lied, "Of course! This looks like a piece of cake compared to that time I single-handedly took out five of Castro's bodyguards!" She grabbed a handful of the powder, marched into the fireplace, flung the powder to the ground, and yelled "Hogwarts!"
With a rush of cold flames, and a sensation of spinning, she suddenly found herself cast into a new fireplace. Megan slowly stepped out from the fireplace, but not grasping how dizzy the experience had made her, she tripped and toppled onto the ground falling to her knees. Impatiently brushing her curly, dark blond hair out of her eyes, she shook her head, and suddenly found herself staring at a pair of black boots. Moving her head steadily upward, she saw the boots end with a pair of black trousers, then meld into a high-necked, black robe fastened together with countless buttons, finally merging into the face of a scowling man with curtains of black hair partially disguising his rather large nose and deep, black, eyes.
Before Megan could say anything to the tall, mysterious, stranger, she heard a whoosh from the fireplace behind her and glancing around saw Dumbledore step lightly from the grate and whisk the soot off of his robes.
"Ah!" said Dumbledore merrily. "I see you have already met our own Professor Severus Snape!"
Looking back into the face of the scowling man, she managed a polite smile and getting to her feet said as confidently as she could muster under the circumstances, "Nice to meet you, I'm Agent Jones. Megan Jones. Of the CIA. That is, the Central Intelligence Agency. Of the United States. Of America."
I've really got to work on my introduction spiel! Megan chided herself inwardly.
"A pleasure, I'm sure," replied Snape with what Megan thought to be a slight sneer, but she quickly brushed away the thought; she hadn't the faintest idea of what she could possibly have done to irritate a man she had known for less than one minute.
"Miss Jones, Professor Snape will be your personal escort while you are our guest here at Hogwarts," explained Dumbledore. "He will be happy to accommodate you in every way possible (Megan didn't think he looked too happy or accommodating) and will be assisting you in your task of gathering information about magical education. He is the Potions master at this school, and one of the most valued and knowledgeable members of our staff."
Megan couldn't help but scrutinize Snape while Dumbledore was talking. He had a dark and shadowy facade that she couldn't help but find intriguing, and her heart skipped at the sound of his deep baritone voice accentuated with a wonderful English inflection. Naturally, as any 27 year old single woman whose biological clock was ticking would do, she happened a casual glance down at his left hand and was slightly pleased at the absence of any ring on his rather long and elegant-looking fingers.
Don't get too excited, she thought to herself, he could still be in a committed relationship, or gay or maybe wizards don't even wear rings...
Before she could finish her thought, Dumbledore concluded his welcoming speech and asked, "Would you like to be shown your quarters Miss Jones? You are surely exhausted after your travels, and I've no doubt you desire some well-earned rest!"
"Thank you, Albus," she replied. "I am rather tired."
"Then by all means! Severus, will you please escort Miss Jones to her room and see that she is properly settled in?"
Snape gave a jerk of his head and snapped, "Follow me."
Ignoring what Megan thought to be a rather rude reply, Dumbledore merely said, "Do have a good night Miss Jones! I look forward to seeing you at breakfast tomorrow in the Great Hall. And welcome to Hogwarts!"
"Good night Albus. Thanks for all your help!" she replied as she followed Snape down the stairs and out the gargoyle statue entrance to what Megan assumed must have been Dumbledore's office.
Megan was immediately enthralled by the sight of Hogwarts and quickly discovered that was no mere school, but a castle, and from her initial glances, a large one at that. She had little time to enjoy the scenery though, as Snape rapidly strode away, forcing her to half-jog to keep up with him.
"So, Professor," she said trying to be polite, as it quickly appeared to her that he was perfectly content to remain mute, "how long have you been teaching here?"
"Nearly fifteen years," he replied curtly.
"Wow!" she said. "You must really enjoy teaching!"
"Were it not for the students, it would be a mildly tolerable profession," he retorted.
Not having any answer to that, she became silent and turned her attention instead to the surroundings. Glancing at one of the many portraits that lined the hallways, she suddenly gave a loud shriek. Whirling around, Snape snarled, "What is the matter?"
"That portrait is moving... all the portraits are moving!"
"Well of course they move! They were living beings once, after all," he spat and continued striding forward.
What is this guy's problem? she asked herself.
She thought of several good comebacks but decided to remain diplomatic and continued to follow Snape down a long series of staircases. Snape watched her closely through narrowed eyes when she let out a gasp of shock at the sight of a staircase moving, but not wanting to give him another opportunity to make a brusque remark, she remained otherwise silent.
After a time, they entered into what appeared to be a massive dungeon with crude, stone walls illuminated by numerous torches.
Snape lazily pointed at a massive wooden door and said, "This is the entrance to my office," and continued walking down the corridor. A second later he waved his hand at a portrait of a sleeping cobra and said, "This is the entrance to my private quarters."
A moment later, he stopped in front of an arched doorway that sported a small portrait of a leafless tree and said, "This is where you will be lodging."
Megan turned the door handle and made to enter the room, but the door did not budge and she ended up smacking her face against the heavy wood.
"Owww..." she moaned, rubbing her nose, "do I need a card key or something?"
Snape emitted what sounded suspiciously to be a rude snort of laughter and drawled, "The door won't open unless you give the guarding portrait (Snape pointed a slender finger to the tree) the proper password. Your password, for the time being, is Whomping Willow."
The tree shook its branches and the door swung open of its own accord. Snape moved aside while Megan stepped into a rectangular, stonewalled room. At one side of the room stood a large four-post bed with lacey white curtains and against the other sat a wooden desk. In the corner, two high-back chairs were arranged in a semi-circle around a large hearth glowing with a crackling fire. All in all, it looked quite cozy.
Megan suddenly noticed that her luggage, which she completely forgot about upon her arrival at Heathrow, was sitting in a neat pile in the corner next to her bed along with a plate of sandwiches and what looked like a cup of steaming tea.
"Will you be...requiring...anything else from me this evening, Miss Jones?" interrupted Snape in a tone that seemed wholly discourteous tone.
"No, thanks, I think I'm all set here. What time is breakfast? And how do I get to this Great Hall from here?"
"Breakfast is served promptly at seven forty-five. I shall be outside of your door, promptly, at seven forty tomorrow to escort you to the Hall. Be advised, Miss Jones, while the Headmaster wishes you to accompany me and observe my classes and daily routine, I will not tolerate tardiness or pointless interruptions."
Megan, feeling exhausted and irritated with this rude man, retorted, "In that case, be advised that I am hardly ever tardy and rarely ever make pointless interruptions. Good night then!" and she jerked closed the door behind her.
"Serves that slimy fellow right!" giggled a portrait of a young, pretty, woman hanging next to an ornately carved clock on the wall beside the fireplace.
"Thanks!" replied Megan, feeling slightly proud of herself at getting the last word at Snape and only half-realizing that she had just spoken to a picture.
Megan grabbed a sandwich and began unpacking her luggage. She set her laptop on the desk and pulled out her alarm clock which she placed next to the bed (She couldn't be tardy for breakfast in the morning) and set about locating a plug. Panic set in when she could locate no plug, nor any sort of light switch, for that matter.
"Excuse me," she timidly asked the portrait of the girl. "Do you know where I can plug in an electrical cord here?"
"A what?" replied the confused girl. "What is an eklectical cord?"
"Never mind!"
Megan realized that she would have to ask Snape for help, as she knew there was no way after her trans-Atlantic flight that she would wake up of her own accord tomorrow morning. Plus, she needed to use her laptop to begin her report to Marshall. Bracing herself, she stepped out of her doorway and approached the portrait of the cobra guarding Snape's room. As she reached out to knock on the door, the sleeping cobra suddenly rose up and tried to strike her hand. She screamed and jumped back, and Snape's door suddenly flew open.
"Is there a good reason you are lurking outside my door, Miss Jones? I wouldn't dare assume you are making a pointless interruption," Snape said smugly.
"I can't seem to find a plug in my room for my alarm clock and I don't want to oversleep in the morning!" she said, feeling slightly embarrassed.
"Miss Jones, did you not notice the clock on the wall inside your quarters?" he asked in a disbelieving tone.
"Yes, but it's not an alarm clock... is it?"
"All you need do," he said speaking very slowly as if addressing a young child, "is tell the clock at what time you wish to rise, and it will alert you when such time arrives."
"But what about the plug? I still need electricity for my laptop and my hairdryer!"
"Laptop? Hairdryer?" Snape inquired in a disinterested voice.
Replying very slowly as if she were addressing a young child, Megan answered, "A laptop is a tool upon which to write, and a hairdryer is a tool which, as the name implies, dries one's hair when it is wet. Both require the use of electricity."
"You'll quickly find here at Hogwarts that, fortunately, Muggle trinkets and inventions are of no use. If you wish to use a tool to write, may I suggest what every one else uses: parchment and ink?"
With that, Snape muttered something inaudible and immediately a long, feather, quill, ink jar, and roll of parchment flew from the room and landed into his outstretched hands. He dumped them unceremoniously into her arms.
"As for a...hairdryer? Perhaps you could stand in front of the fire? Or use a towel?"
Megan wanted to reply that he obviously didn't understand the importance of hair care, as evinced by his own lank and slightly greasy hair, but refrained from her insult as his recent display of magic set her quite at unease. Instead, she screwed her face into a smile and politely said, "Thanks for the suggestion. I'm sure I'll manage. When in Rome, eh? Good night then."
"Good night" said Snape and quickly slammed his door shut.
The cobra hissed at Megan and she hurriedly fled back towards her quarters. Approaching her own portrait, she decided that there was no way she wanted Snape to know the password to her room. She thought for a moment, struggling to come up with a password that Snape would never be able to guess.
"Uh…excuse me, tree," she started hesitantly. "I want to change the room password to 'Digital Camcorder'."
The tree shook its branches in acknowledgment and the door swung open. Stepping inside, Megan tossed the parchment and ink onto the desk and decided she was in no mood to begin her report now. She pulled on her pajamas and brushed her teeth in the small bathroom, thankful that at least these wizards used things as toilets and showers; she could only begin to imagine the horrors of having to ask Snape what to do when nature called.
Pulling back the covers to her bed, she said to the clock, "I wish to wake up tomorrow morning at six thirty."
The clock chimed in response, and Megan closed her eyes, but before she allowed sleep to wash over her, she chastised herself for ever considering Severus Snape to be potential dating material.