**Disclaimer** All characters, real or implied, and the marvelous world they inhabit belong to the fabulous J.K. Rowling. I am just playing with them for my own amusement.
Prologue
The droning, consistent buzz of her alarm clock had finally worked its way through her dream. Recognizing it for what it was, she groaned, rolling over to haphazardly slap at it, in a desperate attempt to hit the snooze button. When she failed to find it, she groaned again, and sat up. Opening one bleary eye and turning toward the insufferable contraption that had interrupted her most interesting dream, she finally found the button she was looking for, and stabbed it with her finger, finally quieting it.
She stretched her arms out, then reached to smooth back her voluminous chestnut hair, which seemed to have escaped its hair band in the middle of the night. As she pawed through her sheets looking for the elusive band, her thoughts turned to her dream. It had been so unnervingly vivid, almost more like a memory than a dream. She shook her head, laughing inwardly at herself. Yeah, she thought sarcastically, because dragons are real and they are used to guard underground caverns full of gold and jewels.
"Iris! Are you awake?" called a perky voice. "We're going to be late if you don't hurry up a bit. No time for a lie-in!"
"I'm up, Samara," Iris replied. Stepping into the hall toward the bathroom, she continued, "I'll be ready in a flash, I promise."
"Alright. We're not going to have time to stop for a fry-up, though. I'll whip up some eggs and toast."
"Thanks!" Iris called as she stepped into the shower. As she wrangled her mane of curls into a soapy fright, she tried to focus. First day of term, she thought to herself. This should be interesting.
Blake Rune sat at the corner café, drinking a cup of tea and reading the daily paper as he waited for his fry-up. The waitress sauntered over to him. "Sorry for the wait, but it should be out soon. Need more brew while you're waiting?"
Blake glanced wryly at her nametag before responding. "No, thank you, Rosie," he drawled, allowing just a hint of contempt to seep out before he turned his attention back to the paper. Rosie didn't seem to notice, but just continued on to check with the patrons at the next table.
Blake was not one for much conversation. Such was the nature of his work, and he quite preferred it that way. Even so, he found himself today preparing a lecture for the local university. This was one assignment that he had balked at, but, despite his protestations, and idle threats of quitting, his boss had prevailed. "This is one of the best opportunities we'll have, Blake," he had said. "As distasteful as you may find it, you're the best person for the job. Just remember, it's for the greater good."
Greater good, Blake sneered to himself. I'm not quite sure what that even means anymore.
Just then, Rosie plopped down his breakfast. "Needing anything else, sir?" she queried.
Blake shook his head, his thick, black hair barely stirring with the movement, and waved his hand in dismissal. Rosie huffed a bit this time, but turned and began clearing a nearby table. As he began to eat, his thoughts drifted and he found himself strangely pondering the word "brew".