An Ordinary Teacher at an Extraordinary School

by The Runes Master

What does life within the walls of Hogwarts Castle look like if you happen to be one of the staff?

1. September

August 31, Saturday

Well, isn't it just like a teacher to begin a diary late at night on August the thirty-first. Don't know why I'm doing it at all, to start with, only that my life seems to be getting more and more exciting every day. Maybe it will be fun to read all this in my old age. If I ever get there, that is. And of course since I was so taken with this lovely notebook as to buy it yesterday, while in fact it's completely unnecessary, I might as well fill it with something interesting.

But really, it does feel so weird being a teacher at Hogwarts. For some reason, it feels much stranger than being a teacher at Durmstrang. I didn't think it would, actually, after five years there, but it just feels weird. I suppose it's because I still feel like a student at Hogwarts and it's somehow, well, mind-boggling to know that I don't have to sleep in the dorm, wear black robes and address everyone as Sir or Professor. (I still have this impulse to jump up whenever older teachers enter the room!) Instead, others are likely to address me this way (Mr Filch does, for example. He's still here! Now he has a cat, called Mrs Norris. I've chatted to her a little, she's misanthropic but has a rather amusing dry sense of humour. I had a feeling that she liked me – maybe because I'm one of the few people here who can actually talk to her intelligently).

I've been given a nice spacious panelled room at the top of a tower, with a four-poster bed, a large bay window, a huge oak desk, a comfy armchair and a big fireplace, and also my own private kettle and a few packs of shortbread should I come over peckish. The classroom is directly beneath it and there's a narrow staircase leading there so that I can get down directly, without thronging along the common stairways. The window gives onto the Forest. There's also a large walk-in closet, more like a separate little room really, even with its own small window, with many pegs and shelves and all, where I've put all my outer garments and shoes. It's separated from the rest of the room by a sliding panel, so it's all nice and neat.

I've already made the room quite mine during the week that I've spent here after it was made ready for me. I'm actually writing this sitting in the armchair, the diary in my lap lit by the light of a tall elaborate candle-holder, with a cup of tea at my side on the tea-table and the fire crackling merrily in the grate. I do like it here. I got nearly all my things over from London and the room looks as if I've lived here for years.

Today's been a bit hectic, though. The usual late-August fuss with the timetables and things. Prof. McGonagall has spent about two weeks trying to arrange things so that everyone has a more or less manageable schedule, and still today, after she'd given out the timetables to us, people would come up to her and point out that they had two classes scheduled for the same time or too many classes, or too few. The poor witch is rushed off her feet. I haven't caused her much trouble, since I only have two groups to teach this term, but Prof. Babbling spent quite a long time raging about the stupid schedule she'd been set. I have a feeling that there are just too many students in the school, so that the workloads tend to be quite large and at the same time the number of tutorials one can give seems barely adequate. Ah well, nothing I can do about it.

Oh dear, I've just remembered! I quite forgot the gold! There isn't a Gringotts branch in Hogsmeade, I should have taken out some cash in London. All right then, I'll take the Floo home tomorrow and go to the bank, then Floo back. No! A better idea! I'll go home tonight, then nip around to the bank early in the morning and then, then I'll begin the term in style by taking the Hogwarts express!!! Yes, good thinking.

September 1, Sunday

Well, well, well. Here we are then, start of term. I'd quite forgotten the splendour of the feast here at Hogwarts, and was quite unprepared for it when I went down to the Great Hall (wearing my Doctor's mantle and all! Also had decided to turn my bandage black for the evening not to frighten people overmuch). So weird to be sitting at the top table. Had been no better on the Express, actually. And I think I gave a real fright to that girl – what was her name? Abbott, right. Hanna Abbott. Poor thing! She'd probably never seen anyone skin-change before. I should've gone round the corner, of course. (Will I be able to recall what I'm on about here? Maybe not. What happened was that when we arrived to Hogsmeade, I skin-changed on the platform to be able to fly to the school, see?) I suppose I was just so excited that I behaved like a teenager, showing off, basically. Thank heaven S doesn't know, he'd have most probably killed me for that! He already has, for having flown in the first place. But what choice did I have? If I'd gone with them in the carriages, I'd have had no time to change before the feast. (Yes, yes, I know, bad planning, should have thought about it from the very start.)

Arm's really hurting me, now, though, so he was right. I wonder when this bloody burn will heal? I mean it is unnatural for a burn to stay on for two months!

Had a staff meeting afterwards, but I was so tired I missed half of what was being said. Prof. Umbridge took the floor, mostly, going on about standards, again. S says these meetings are usually much shorter. He also says it's the first time in all the years he's been around when Dumbledore was interrupted at the feast. Actually he looked quite perturbed about the whole thing. I can't say I didn't notice the tension when Prof. Umbridge started talking. She hasn't impressed me as being a very nice person, as yet. We'll see. I think I'm probably wrong. I mustn't let my prejudice against the colour pink ruin first impressions for me. I was rather surprised when she said that school is all about exams, though. At least Dumbledore didn't look like he agreed with that!

Still can't decide whether I'm hurt or relieved about Dumbledore not having introduced me at the feast. Obviously he thought that since I'm only an Assistant Professor, only a couple of groups will actually be dealing with me and I'll be introduced to them by Prof. Babbling anyway, and there's no point in confusing everyone else. Ah well.

I feel a small familiar twinge of horror at the thought of meeting new children, as usual. Wonder how many more years I'll have to spend in the business to stop being nervous about it.

What else to put here before I forget? No, I'll do the story of my resignation afterwards - I'm too sleepy now. Anyways, time to go to bed. Early rise tomorrow. Holidays are over. Baah.

You are still a kid, mate.

September 2, Monday

Wow. Teaching can be fun! No, I knew it, of course, but man isn't it nice to have British kids in the class. I mean English-speaking kids. I can use words like "conversant" or "technicalities", and they understand me! Yay! No more need to stem the abundant flow of my refined vocabulary! I've met one group so far, the ones who are doing their OWLs this term, a motley collection from all Houses. Including the Abbott girl! I was surprised to see her, she hadn't given the impression of being extremely intellectual on the train. Well, maybe I underestimated her. We'll see.

So, they are:

Hannah Abbott (H at the end) - H

Hermione Granger (surprise, surprise! Well, she more or less told me she would be taking these classes back at Gr.P.) - G

Seamus Finnigan - G, with a terrific accent! I kept wanting to slip into North Yorkshire while addressing him. Gotta work on that!

Lavender Brown - G, sits together with Hannah. I think I've been through this before. OK, we'll see. Maybe they were both simply embarrassed.

Mandy Brocklehurst - R, nice brainy girl

Terry Boot - R, active but a bit unruly

Lisa Turpin - R, haven't figured her out yet

Kevin Entwhistle - R, looked a bit blank, maybe it's just summer inertia though

Draco Malfoy - S - haughty beyond description. Maybe he's just shy though. S's protege, apparently. Birds of a feather? I hope not!

Vincent Crabbe

Gregory Goyle - two identical Slytherins who apparently act as Malfoy's bodyguards. This seems to be their only reason for coming to this class in the first place. I don't think a single word I said actually penetrated their skulls. Well, as long as they don't interrupt classes.

Daphne Greengrass - S, bites her quill all the time, but otherwise seems quite nice

Pansy Parkinson - S, a bit burly for her name, very assertive

Theodore Nott - S, a very favourable impression, I think he stands a fair chance of becoming my favourite student.

I talked about Runes, made them recap on what they knew and - of course! - had to tell them about dwimmercraft, because they sort of noticed I wasn't using a wand. (Well, I can't switch into Modern Magic just like that!) They were interested, I think. We'll see how it goes. I've flicked through OWL tasks from some years back, and they are pretty difficult, and I've only got an hour and a half a week.

Glad Cousin Neville isn't taking Runes, by the way.

Anyway... oh, Severus's here.

Hmmmmm. He's just left, having told me a lot of interesting things. Said he wanted to get it off his chest since yesterday. Apparently what I took for innocent idle babble on behalf of Prof. Umbridge is in fact deadly serious and potentially destructive. Being a newcomer, I just didn't see the whole point of what she was saying. Hogwarts, apparently, is an almost independent institution. The Ministry gives us a general curriculum, but it's the Headmaster who decides on the details of the syllabus, such as what particular subjects will be taught and how many lessons and what extra subjects etc etc, and the extra gold is provided by the Board. However, they are now bent on controlling the school much more rigidly because of Dumbledore, who they think is trying to build up more power through recruiting students as his supporters over whom Fudge has no control blah blah blah (S actually used the word "army"), so the "openness, effectiveness and accountability" basically means "we're gonna follow your every step, so watch it." Like, for example, "practices that ought to be prohibited" may very well include just about everything that makes the school interesting and unique, and, of course, Dumbledore's management of it all. In two words: Ministry interference. And that, knowing the Ministry, can only be for the worse. S is livid. I don't really care since I'll be largely following the OWL preparation programme anyway, and the OWLs are set by the Ministry, so I'm more or less on the safe side there, but I do hope it doesn't go beyond just control. I mean Hogwarts has always had this anarchistic strain in it, that's what makes it so attractive and influential - I think.

September 3, Tuesday

Full moon

Everyone's off to work, and I'm sitting up here and writing a diary. Great feeling! My next lesson is on Thursday – the other group – and Prof. Babbling is taking all the rest. She said maybe she'll allot more to me in time, but not just yet. So, instead of teaching, I'm going for a walk around the castle.

Later: Brrr, glad I'm back at my fire. It's cold and damp out there! The walk's been very weird. Everything is incredibly familiar and at the same time completely new. I felt that especially clearly when I passed Prof. Grubbly-Plank teaching some students their Care of Magical Creatures. I felt I'd gone back in time, and wondered fleetingly why I wasn't there among them, studying.

The grounds look very much the same, the Lake, the Willow, the Forest. The castle itself looks the same, feels the same, but there are many portraits that weren't there, half the staircases lead to different places (as expected), and I do get a distinct feeling that a corridor has actually vanished, while a whole wing has appeared. Can this be true? I searched for that passage specifically – the one where I first summoned the Latro, I remember it well – and it wasn't where it used to be, there's a tapestry there now and just solid wall behind it. I also remember that there was a stretch of blank wall just to the right of the common room entrance, which for some reason never had a picture or anything, so we all thought it was special and there were all sorts of home-spun legends about it, and now there's an archway there and a short corridor with a few doors and a staircase leading both up and down. I walked all over the castle before lunch, then walked the grounds. At lunch, I mentioned flying over the Forest, but S gave me such a withering glance I thought better of it. Maybe later.

I remember when S first took me to the Slytherin common room during Easter hols. I wonder why it's generally not allowed for students to visit their friends from other Houses? (Actually, come to think of it, having close friends in other houses is sort of discouraged.) It actually helps you to understand people better, seeing them in their own environment. S fitted in so well with the dungeon and all the green. He definitely looked out of place in our common room when I invited him over the next day. I wonder if anything's actually changed within the Tower? Being a teacher I'm just as cut off from fellow Ravenclaws as if I were a Slytherin myself. I could always ask Prof. Flitwick for the password, of course, but what would it look like if I climbed up there and just stood about smiling like a moron, with all the students around? Heigh-ho. I suddenly understood that I am an alien here now, a completely different person from the boy who used to snuggle up there with a book in the window-seat.

But I do wonder if the runes I carved on it back in '76 are still there...

September 4, Wednesday

Good thing I'm free today: I went to bed straight after breakfast and slept for about four hours, so now I'm quite refreshed. Now am off for more wanderings around.

I wish I could fly properly. There's been no rain today, and I was very sorry I couldn't fly over the Forest. I'm still wary about venturing there on foot, I think some air reconnaissance wouldn't go amiss.

September 5, Thursday

Met my other group – beginners, these, on Thursdays. Slytherins. Put down the list in my teaching notebook. I was a little anxious, but they turned out to be so small and young and ignorant of the subject that I'm feeling somewhat easier now. And it was the first lesson too, so it was more like a lecture, I mainly just talked about what Runes are and what you can do with them etc etc. Real work will begin when we learn them all and get down to using them!

So it's Mondays and Thursdays. Not bad!

Schedule this term:

OWL group: Sept. 9, 16, 23, 30; Oct 7, 14, 21, 28; Nov 4, 11, 18, 25; Dec 2, 9, 16 at 1:10 PM

Beginners: Sept 12, 19, 26; Oct 3, 10, 17, 31; Nov 7, 14, 21, 28; Dec 5, 12, 19 at 10:40 AM

I'm writing this in the staff room. It's a new experience – or, rather, a half-forgotten one, since the Senior Common Room at Durmstrang was a bit different, more of a reading hall, and the closest feeling to sitting here is actually being in my own Ravenclaw common room here at Hogwarts all those years ago. Looks a bit like it, too: all those mismatched armchairs, numerous bookshelves, cupboards and desks. What makes it agreeably different is the presence of a stock of different teas and a bright copper kettle which is always full and hot. It is nice to have a quick cuppa between classes to soften one's vocal cords. Not that I need that much, with my small number of classes, but still. It's also nice to sit here marking, I expect, not holed up on your own, but among your peers, able to join in the conversation every now and then or share a joke or something. I fully expect to spend a lot of time here in the future.

Prof. Babbling allowed me to call her Bathsheba.

A huge plus: looks like they have a much more relaxed attitude to clothes here at Hogwarts. I don't actually have to wear a teacher's mantle, or indeed robes at all. (Esp. as am only Assistant.) Dumbledore told me this himself yesterday evening. At Durmstrang, they liked things to be neat and disciplined, so I had to wear a mantle during the term, whenever I was out of my chambers, a rather grand affair of dark blue velvet with fur trimmings and two silver stripes on the hood (dark blue indicated English, and the silver was for being a Doctor – people with no title had no stripes, and the Head and his two deputies had golden ones, three and two each respectively. I must say, by the way, that colour-coding the subjects was a really good idea, of great use to a newcomer), and even though formally I was allowed to wear whatever I wanted underneath it, anything but black and brown looked silly, jeans and jumpers were definitely not on, so I mainly wore the dark leather and suede bits of my warlock clothes underneath. Here, though, it seems that the rigid dress code applies to students only. We teachers are free in our choice of dress. (Free as anything: Prof. Umbridge wears an Alice band!) I'm going to make full use of this. OK, maybe I won't shock them by wearing Muggle tee-shirts all the time, but I'm not wearing robes if I can help it. I haven't worn robes for seventeen years, and I'm not starting again now, even though everyone thinks I should and Aunties keep telling me how well I look in them. I so enjoyed abandoning them after graduation!

I've suddenly developed a vicious throat-ache, after today's lesson, apparently. Am setting off to the Hospital Wing to ask Madam Pomfrey for some remedy. (I'm telling you nothing's changed. Even Madam Pomfrey's still here!)

September 6, Friday

Looks like I've been missing out on a lot of what's been going on in the community. That's what comes out of not reading the stupid newspapers. There's always a fresh issue of the Prophet on the table in the staff room, and man, do I learn new things from it every day! I honestly can't understand how anyone could be so dimwitted as to believe what it says. Also a pleasure to watch S: he can't help feeling happy every time his behated Harry Potter is mentioned as an attention-seeking liar, but as a member of the Order he knows that they are not really lies (and I mean he of all people would know about whether or not the Dark Lord has really returned wouldn't he?!), so every time I pick up the Prophet he haughtily says something along the lines of "Why do you keep reading this drivel", and then picks it up after I'm finished to look for anti-Potter articles. What a git.

Hmm, look. I wrote "the Dark Lord". Sev.'s influence obviously, but really, how should I call him? Dumbledore says "use his real name", and of course You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named are just plain stupid and cowardly. But Voldemort isn't his real name is it? It's a name he invented for himself to feel more important and scary. His real name's T. M. Riddle, but if I used that, people would probably not understand who I'm on about. I'll have to think about it.

Throat's much better.

September 7, Saturday

Bloody hell! Sturgis Podmore got himself arrested at the Ministry and sent to Azkaban for six months!!! And not only just arrested: he was trying to get through a secret door!

Later: Conferred briefly with McG, S and Flitwick. (Flitwick isn't a member of the Order, strictly speaking, but he's one of our staunch supporters, of course. All of the staff are. Well, I say all, with the single obvious exception of course.) McG had spoken to Dumbledore beforehand. He'd been making enquiries, and the horrible thing is that Podmore was trying to break through The Door, the one that we've been guarding, the one that the Prophecy is behind. D thinks he must have been Imperiused to do it. This is dreadful! That means that there are D.E.s in the very bowels of the Ministry! (Among the Unspeakables?! Or in the Wizengamot?! Gaah!) We just hope he doesn't break down and tell all there is to tell after his stint at Azkaban. D told everyone out there to lie low for a while, and wait for developments. The question is, why did they try to make Podmore take the Pr. if only the people it was made about can touch it? Looks like Lord V isn't aware of that. S was asked to find out.

I wonder what's the secret connection between S and the Prophecy, by the way. Every time anyone mentions it to him, I get a small pang of pain, which means it touches a very sore spot. What can it be? I wish he'd tell me. No point in asking directly, of course.

Right, I see I promised to record the glorious story of my resignation here a week ago, and never got around to it. OK, so here goes.

Where to begin? Probably with the time when I first realised I'd been cut off the Floo network in late June. They sent in a letter, something like "maintenance problems, please bear with us". I bore with them. And then Severus wrote.

It was evening, July 7th, about six o'clock Durmstrang time, when he wrote (using the two-way notebook) and then Dumbledore took over, telling me where the HQ was to be found. I knew I couldn't stay at Durmstrang, because after Karkaroff's disappearance it actually became quite uncomfortable. They knew the Dark Lord was back immediately. Don't know how, maybe there were more Death Eaters among them, maybe they had some other means of communication, but anyway during the time that passed between his reappearance on June 25th and this message, things had taken a definite turn for the worse. Even I could see it. Karkaroff at least had kept some kind of pretence about "studying the Dark Arts for the sake of pure knowledge", but Peter Schwartz the (Deputy) Headmaster would have nothing of that. He was actually hinting transparently at training the students to do the Dark Arts at the last staff meeting. It was then that I first thought about getting the hell out of there, so Sev.'s message was more than welcome. If I was needed back home, I was going.

Now that I look back on it, things look much more logical. Of course I was cut off from the Floo: the Ministry started rooting out prospective Dumbledore supporters, hindering them in any way they could. I wonder if there's a special division that keeps tabs on all of us, like who's friends with who.

So anyway: the moment Sev. over and outed, I took up the quill again and wrote my resignation letter, and went over to Schw's office. He was very civil at first – he had to be, nothing in my contract prevented me from resigning – but I could see clearly that he wasn't too keen on letting me go, which surprised me: surely a replacement would be pretty easy to find in the two remaining summer months? They had given me about three weeks' notice when I had been appointed. I said that, he answered that they were more than content with me, I said thanks, I'm very flattered, but what if I had to leave? He asked why, I said family problems. That was a mistake, of course. He turned nasty right away. "But surely you don't have a family, Dr Heald?" I've always known I'm a pathetic liar, and how could I've known the nosy git had read my file already? He'd only been Headmaster for a week officially! I understood I was trapped, cos you can't just say, oh, sorry, I meant scholarly affairs, so I remained stupidly silent while he produced a letter with a Ministry seal on it.

'Furthermore, I've received a letter from your Ministry last night,' he went on, 'you may want to take a look—'

I don't remember the exact wording, and of course I had no opportunity to copy it, but the gist of the letter, signed by one Percy Ignatius Weasley, Assistant to the Minister (International Magical Co-operation), was that the Durmstrang Institute for Magical Study was entitled to keep me on under all circumstances, and indeed use any method of persuasion should I want to leave (all in the name of international co-operation, of course). My head reeled slightly when I read that. I could see that it was genuine. I could see that my own bloody Ministry was entitling someone to use force against me if need be. I got angry.

'I'm going anyway,' I said. 'I'm sorry, but I just can't stay, magical co-operation or no magical co-operation.'

'Well,' he said, 'then I'll have to use some of the methods of persuasion that they mention.'

I'd like to see you try, I thought. 'For example?' I said.

'For example this,' he said and made a very deft movement with his wand.

Next second I was lying on the floor with half my head blasted off, or so I felt. He remained seated in his armchair.

'Have I been persuasive enough?' he asked.

I was thinking rapidly. There was no way out of this.

'Not really,' I said and hit him back, summoning my staff as he fell off his chair.

For the next several minutes we just fought, and finally I had him cornered, with the end of the staff digging into his chest.

'Will you let me go now?' I asked.

'Not really,' he said and suddenly threw a snake at me. It twisted around my right wrist, tearing off the skin, scorching it, it felt like it was made of white-hot barbed wire. I dropped the staff and started tearing the snake off, because it felt like it would burn my arm to the bone if I left it there. I dimly registered a look of surprise on Sch's face and wondered fleetingly why he wasn't pressing his advantage home, but then the snake finally came off, I threw it down and stamped on it, and he was still just staring at me. By that time, I was beside myself, so when he started to raise his wand again I bound him with Fenrir's chain and took his voice away – I think I was so angry I was using English not Norse, and it still worked – then took the wand out of his hand and snapped it in two, flung open the window and threw the bits into the lake. Then picked up the staff, turned on my heel and left.

I think he was expecting another reaction. Maybe the snake was supposed to bite me and couldn't, anyway something went wrong, as usual with Modern spells used against dwimmercraft defences, and that apparently threw him off-balance. I wonder why his first curse worked though. (Oh, and it's the burn from the snake that makes me wear the bandage. Hurts a little, esp after I strain the arm, and effectively prevents me from flying far, but I suppose it could be worse, really. At least I have no trouble writing.)

I ran to my chamber, washed the blood off my face and wrapped my wrist in a towel. I knew I had a few hours before he'd come round and be able to call for help, and by that time, I had to be thoroughly gone, preferably from the country. I skidbladnir-ed all the books and clothes, stuffed them in my backpack and just ran for it.

As I ran, thanking heaven that at this time, with the holidays on, the castle was practically deserted, I was thinking frantically what to do next. The thing is, at that time, I had no idea where I was. They made a point of me always travelling by Floo between Durmstrang and London, so I didn't even know for sure which part of Europe I was in. (I mean I had thought about it and had formulated a fairly accurate, as it turned out later, ballpark position, but it still covered several hundred square miles of Central Europe.) And they forbid me to skin-change while there, so I didn't get any bird's-eye views. But the Floo was out even if I used some other fireplace in the castle – if the letter from the Ministry was genuine, and I had no doubt that it was, they'd be out to get me, so the network was probably watched closely just in case. I could not Apparate either, because that leaves traces too and your route is pretty easy to find out, and I was meaning to disappear very thoroughly. Flying was out of question, not with the state my arm was in. Stealing a broom was not a very wise thing to do, what with knowing next to nothing about the surrounding terrain and having no idea of the distances involved. So only one thing remained. I'd have to Muggle it.

I crossed the bridge to the mainland, turned back and cast a final look at Castle Durmstrang. As usual when you walk out, it looked like an imposing ruin, with a single feeble light in the window behind which, I knew, Schwartz was sitting bound and gagged. I turned my back on it and walked quickly up the hill.

I'd never been outside the valley, it was part of my contract, and even though my forehead was stinging badly where I got hit, and the right arm was just murdering me, I couldn't but enjoy the spectacular views. When I got to the top of the ridge and looked back for the final time, I appreciated just how beautiful it was – the polished lake, the castle, the forest and the meadows. Who needs Dark Arts in a place like this?

I started downhill, and in about half an hour a village hove into view. I hadn't known there was one. I stopped in my tracks, tense. Then I saw cars. They were Muggles! I almost laughed out loud with relief.

I went down the street, looking fondly at the cars and the electric lamps. For some reason, I was feeling very secure all of a sudden. The few people I met didn't give me a second glance, and why would they? I was of course wearing Muggle clothes, because even at Durmstrang they didn't mind me doing that in a "non-teaching situation", and my maimed arm was out of sight underneath my jacket. The signs were all in German, but then I'd already got that far in my own deductions as well. What part of the German-speaking world though? The three cars that were parked along the street all had different number plates, and anyway I'm not such an expert in Muggle affairs as to tell which is which.

Looking for information, I stopped at the post office. The lady there was very nice, she gave me a little map of the surroundings (the village and the lake, with all the picturesque cross-country walks marked) when I said that I was a tourist who'd lost his way in the mountains. She looked horrified when I said I'd spent the night in the ruin on the lake, said it was very dangerous, and even though she didn't believe in such nonsense herself there was definitely something to the old rumour that the ruin was haunted. When she saw my wrist accidentally, she'd hear of nothing else until she had taken me round the corner to the chemist's, and between them, the two ladies had my wounds cleaned and bandaged in no time. I was thinking of the best way to ask them where I was without looking completely barking, and so asked them what the nearest big city that I could get to was. Salzburg, they said.

Austria.

I slipped off to the loo and turned some of the gold I had on me into local currency, remembering the Modern spell. The amount surprised me. I got enough to pay for the bandages and the fare on the coach that was soon taking me to Salzburg. It was the last coach that day, so I was lucky again.

Once in Salzburg, I started thinking what to do next. Four hours had passed since my skirmish with Schwartz, and I was pretty positive that either the spell had worm off by then or he'd have found a way to get help. I needed to get home, and I also needed to confuse any pursuers. I went to the railway station and bought a ticket to Vienna. The train was only due the next morning though, so I loafed about the town all night. It was incredibly beautiful. It was a full moon night, so sleeping was out of question anyway, and I really enjoyed Salzburg. In the morning, I collected my bag from the luggage room, and soon the train was speeding towards the capital. I went to the airport first and looked up the nearest flight to London, it was to go rather late in the evening, so I spent another day sightseeing. What a beautiful city, sir! While having schnitzel, coffee (pronounced kaffE) and some apple strudel in a cafe (I decided to go completely Viennese for the afternoon), I idly scanned the map the post office lady had given me and discovered with great surprise and satisfaction (Schadenfreude, that is) that the ruin that Durmstrang is posing as was clearly marked there as a "Sehenswurdigkeit". Unplottable! Ha! I've always said that we underestimate Muggle technology.

The plane was late, so I spent three uncomfortable hours at the airport. Perversely enough, while I walked the streets, I felt free and secure – as long as I was on the move. Having to sit in the same chair for three hours, I felt rather more vulnerable and conspicuous. Finally, at about half past two in the morning, I took my place at the very tail of the plane (cheapest ticket) and watched Vienna slide down underneath in a web of bright lights. Two hours later, slightly sick, I was at Heathrow, and in another two hours and a bit (it took me a whole hour to work out where to go to get on the Tube at Heathrow!) I was at King's Cross, at a complete loss what to do, since I hadn't a faintest idea where Grimmauld Place was. S had mentioned that it was "somewhere near King's Cross" (the real Northener that he is, he doesn't know London too well). The first thought, obviously, was to write to S and ask him more precisely, but it was half past five in the morning. I got off the Tube and stood there, looking at the facade of the station. Going home to Gillingham St was not a really good idea if the Ministry was after me. Where do I go from here? I hated to loiter about, but it was cold and dreary outside, so I went inside the station and wandered about, stopping to buy a hot dog from a sleepy-looking vendor and even trying to kip a little in an incredibly hard and uncomfortable seat with no success. Then I mustered up my courage and went back out into the street, lugging my backpack and fostering an incipient dull headache. So? Where's the bloody Grim Old Place? Then I had a bright idea: I went to the nearest bus stop and copied down the map of the area. I knew that Gr. P. would not be marked – as, indeed, was the case – but I was not to be defeated. I decided to walk round the whole area and look for it! That I did, marking off the streets I'd done with a pencil. It started raining heavily all of a sudden, and by the time I found the HQ – amazingly enough, after only forty minutes (I'd gone in the wrong direction first, of course)– I was drenched to the skin and numb with cold. Thankfully, Molly Weasley was there, with a cup of tea to save me.

The interesting thing happened when I actually arrived there: the HQ is unplottable, of course, and all those things, so when you come to Grimmauld Place you don't see it. That baffled me: here's No. 11, and here's No. 13! I started doubting my own sanity, and – since the address was passed on to me by Dumbledore by means of the two-way notebook, and this conversation had been erased when I'd closed it – I couldn't look it up, and they had told me not to commit the address to parchment. So I just stood there looking stupidly between the Nos. 11 and 13, recalling the phrase: "The HQ of the Order of the Phoenix is to be found at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place." As soon as I arrived to the word "twelve", the houses moved aside and there was No. 12, emerging between them like a balloon being rapidly inflated. Astonishingly, I remembered not to use the knocker; instead, I used the Order technology of sending messages by Patronuses for the first time. It was a little silly, admittedly, sending a Patronus to get the message delivered to someone who was a few yards away, but later they taught me the spells that open the door and I didn't have to resort to this method any more. Molly actually praised me for my resourcefulness: she said that most newcomers knock on the door and wake the portrait in the hall, so that it starts screaming blue murder and the whole place is plunged into chaos for a while.

Blimey, it's half past two!

September 8, Sunday

Going on from where I left off yesterday: during my first meeting with the other members of the Order, I discovered that the letter about me sent in to Durmstrang was in fact genuine. I caused Molly no end of pain and embarrassment because I was dim enough not to realise that the Percy Ignatius was a relative (he turned out to be her son. One of her sons, actually.) Anyway, Kingsley Shacklebolt, who's leading the three-year-long hunt after Sirius Black (in the wrong direction), decided I would be better off I underwent a more or less formal "clearing", so the next day I went to Diagon Alley and allowed myself to be arrested by another Order member, Nymphadora Tonks. She took me to the Aurors' office at the Ministry and interrogated me. I denied all accusations squarely and said (in accordance with what Kingsley had said I should stick to, to sound more plausible) that I was sure the letter was a sham and therefore did not think for a second that I was acting against Ministry orders. They were in a tight spot there, definitely, because obviously I hadn't actually done anything to warrant such mass-murderer-on-the-loose treatment, so it would be better for their own image to say that the letter had been a mistake/forgery/whatever. At the same time, if that be so, what are you doing interrogating me? That was the line I took, and Tonks had to let me go after about twenty minutes. The poor girl was so frightened by my demeanour (I tried to be as rude and haughty as possible, for the benefit of all the other Aurors) that she was shooting me apprehensive looks even as we were sitting down to the same dinner at HQ that very evening. Took me some time to convince her I'm not really all that horrible. I liked her, in fact. Maybe even more than I should have.

I also got an (initially) very flattering explanation of why I actually had been treated that way. Kingsley and Tonks agree that the reason for that is dwimmercraft. Apparently I'm supposed to be a rather powerful wizard, whose presence might strengthen the pro-Dumbledore coalition considerably, so the Ministry tried to prevent me from joining. I said modestly I wasn't such a powerful wizard; they then dampened my spirits somewhat by saying, Yes, we know, but Fudge is well-nigh paranoid by this stage, and sees anyone who's in league with D and even marginally unusual as a mortal threat.

Tonks insists on being called by her last name, because she feels that Nymphadora is too much of a mouthful. I can't say that I disagree.

Gr.P. is a rather nasty place. I was very glad I had a flat in Gillingham St and didn't have to stay there all the time. Incredibly gloomy. I was most surprised to learn that it belonged to Sirius Black: I remembered him as a very boisterous and cheerful character (about four hundred times too much so, actually), and it was hard to imagine him growing up there. The screaming portrait in the hall turned out to be a likeness of his mother: she doesn't say anything much to anyone apart from "scum", "filth", "blood-traitor" and "Muggle-lover". And, to add to its overall sinister character, it's been standing abandoned for about fifteen years, and is infested with all sorts of nastiness, mould, poisonous lichen and a deranged smelly house-elf who's spent all these years taking orders from the "sweet mistress".

The house-elf was the cause of my second fight with Black. The first took place virtually twenty minutes after my arrival, when I was reviving myself with a cup of Molly's tea. He came into the kitchen and, once I reminded him who I was, he grinned hugely, strode forward and shook my hand vigorously. I was quite surprised to receive such a warm welcome. Obviously it was too good to last: he said, "I thought you became a Death Eater, together with..." and silently supplied the name with a vague wave of his hand and a grimace. "Glad you're on our side." "He's on our side as well, isn't he?" I said, the joy of seeing an old enemy who's now a friend subsiding somewhat. He looked at me hard: "You're not still keeping in touch, are you?" The expression on his face was now quite insufferable. "We are," I said coldly. "Why would anyone want to keep in touch with that slimy git?" he demanded. I felt I was growing angry. "Does the word friendship mean anything to you, Sirius?" I asked. He was now his old arrogant self. "It does, only you should have been wiser in your choice of friends," he shot at me. The answer came out of my mouth almost before I felt I could formulate a coherent rejoinder: I surprised myself by retorting: "Fine words indeed... from a man who befriended Peter Pettigrew." He looked at me again, hard, and said: "I don't know what Dumbledore is doing inviting the likes of you into the Order," and left the room abruptly.

The second fight concerned Kreacher the house-elf. I was outraged when I learned his name: what sort of name is "Creature", especially for a servant, especially for a non-human servant?! I mentioned this when Black was around. He hates the elf (together with the house, as it turned out), and treats him abominably. The elf is a nasty piece of work, but still. (Calls all the Order members blood-traitors, or else Mudbloods.) So my remark naturally led to an argument. That was another reason I was so glad to go home after being 'cleared': Black is always at home, since he's a wanted criminal and he's not allowed to venture out of doors (he did once, in his dog form, to see the children off to school – and was spotted by Lucius Malfoy at King's Cross! Worse luck), and that keeps him incredibly grumpy and rude. I preferred not to talk to him: every conversation turned into a fight, however hard I tried to remain reasonable. He wasn't happy having me around, either. He brought up incredible things during the arguments to insult me, like, for example, during this one about Kreacher, when he referred to my not-too-upper-class parentage as a reason for my ignorance of the house-elves' ways. I couldn't believe it: an Order member, accusing another one of not being pureblood enough! Everyone present was shocked, and he even had the grace to mumble something like "I didn't mean it that way", but it just shows you: anything goes in fights with me.

I should probably put down for the record that I did tell him that the Healds are known from the Middle Ages and the Whites are not only a very ancient family but also – unfortunately – relatives of the Blacks.

Also for the record: I've been to Hogsmeade today for the first time this year. It hasn't changed much. Madam Rosmerta's still there – she's older, but looks almost the same. Her Butterbeer is as great as ever. The amazing thing is that she recognised me – with a little prompt, of course, once I told her I usually appeared in her establishment with Severus. The weather's been great.

September 9, Monday

This is unbelievable!!!

MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM

DOLORES UMBRIDGE APPOINTED FIRST EVER HIGH INQUISITOR

In a surprise move last night the Ministry of Magic passed new legislation giving itself an unprecedented level of control at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"The Minister has been growing uneasy about goings-on at Hogwarts for some time," said junior Assistant to the Minister, Percy Weasley. "He is now responding to concerns voiced by anxious parents, who feel the school may be moving in a direction they do not approve of."

This is not the first time in recent weeks that the Minister, Cornelius Fudge, has used new laws to effect improvements at the wizarding school. As recently as 30th August, Educational Decree Number Twenty-two was passed, to ensure that, in the event of the current Headmaster being unable to provide a candidate for a teaching post, the Ministry should select an appropriate person. "That's how Dolores Umbridge came to be appointed to the teaching staff at Hogwarts," said Weasley last night. "Dumbledore couldn't find anyone so the Minister put in Umbridge, and of course, she's been an immediate success, totally revolutionising the teaching of Defence Against the Dark Arts and providing the Minister with on-the-ground feedback about what's really happening at Hogwarts."

It is this last function that the Ministry has now formalised with the passing of Educational Decree Number Twenty-three, which creates the new position of Hogwarts High Inquisitor.

"This is an exciting new phase in the Minister's plan to get to grips with what some are calling the falling standards at Hogwarts," said Weasley. "The Inquisitor will have powers to inspect her fellow educators and make sure that they are coming up to scratch. Professor Umbridge has been offered this position in addition to her own teaching post and we are delighted to say that she has accepted."

The Ministry's new moves have received enthusiastic support from parents of students at Hogwarts.

"I feel much easier in my mind now that I know Dumbledore is being subjected to fair and objective evaluation," said Mr Lucius Malfoy, 41, speaking from his Wiltshire mansion last night. "Many of us with our children's best interests at heart have been concerned about some of Dumbledore's eccentric decisions in the last few years and are glad to know that the Ministry is keeping an eye on the situation."

Among those eccentric decisions are undoubtedly the controversial staff appointments previously described in this newspaper, which have included the employment of werewolf Remus Lupin, half-giant Rubeus Hagrid and delusional ex-Auror, "Mad-Eye" Moody.

Rumours abound, of course, that Albus Dumbledore, once Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, is no longer up to the task of managing the prestigious school of Hogwarts.

"I think the appointment of the Inquisitor is a first step towards ensuring that Hogwarts has a headmaster in whom we can all repose our confidence," said a Ministry insider last night.

Wizengamot elders Griselda Marchbanks and Tiberius Ogden have resigned in protest at the introduction of the post of Inquisitor to Hogwarts.

"Hogwarts is a school, not an outpost of Cornelius Fudge's office," said Madam Marchbanks. "This is a further, disgusting attempt to discredit Albus Dumbledore."

(For a full account of Madam Marchbanks's alleged links to subversive goblin groups, turn to page seventeen.)

No comment. At all.

This Percy character again, mind you.

And she didn't even tell us beforehand!

Lunchtime: Ah. Now she has. Just had an extra staff meeting. Taking fifteen minutes off our lawful eating time, and simpering as ever, with everyone watching her incredulously, she informed us about what everyone's already read in the paper. And she didn't give any dates. "The inspection will begin forthwith, some of the colleagues have already received my notes." So you'll be telling me to expect you twenty minutes before the class, will you? Not as if I cared – it's just somehow unpleasant. I mean, we are certified and experienced teachers, while she's just a bloody Ministry bureaucrat who's never taught anything before!

How's she gonna inspect us? I mean OK, Divination's just a sham, Charms or Transfiguration are at least practical, so she can actually judge whether or not the teachers have managed to really teach the kids anything. But what about me and Bathsheba? Does she know Runes? Or does she know Arithmancy? Or, I don't know, Care of Magical Creatures? I mean I wouldn't know if someone was giving wrong instructions about how to take care of a sphinx or something. Is she such a great authority on everything?

Talked to S about it, and he thinks it's all just a pretext. He thinks she's not at all concerned with academic standards and all those wonderful words that she said, and that whatever we do, even we follow the Ministry guidelines to the last letter, she'll still find faults, which, when amassed in a large enough quantity, will constitute a reason for deposing Dumbledore, if not closing down the school. I wonder what the Board thinks about this, I mean they give the cash, they must have a say? Or has Lucius Malfoy blackmailed them all into silence? Come to think of it, if they are really so bent on closing the school, and of course it's a very welcome development for the enemy, then he might even be Imperiusing them. What a ghastly thought.

By the way, I think I should record what I did for the Order in the summer, just in case someone uses the Oblivion charm against me. Mainly, after I was cleared, I hung around the International Relations Dept, finding out the current climate and trying to influence the people who work there, as well as reforging the ties with all the foreign wizards I knew from Uppsala and Kitezh, and of course my numerous relatives, trying to bring them in too (The Kreuzers were all right; the Coopers apparently don't care much about what's happening over here, they think they're safe in Noo Jersey. (Ha! As if.) The Grants I'm still working on. Also, wrote to Aunt Vivienne and the Slaters, but there's been no reply yet. And I'm too scared of Uncle Malvolio to write to Auntie Flo, and somehow I doubt he's not a D.E. himself. Holy Grail, it's a hard life having six aunts!). There was also some guard duty: at the Ministry, and I also guarded the other weapon, the famous Harry Potter (Dumbledore thought I was really well suited for the job, since, unlike the other Order members, I didn't have to use the Invisibility Cloak, of which there are only two. One, now, actually, since Stugris Podmore had one on when he was arrested, the stupid prat.) That was boring, cos nothing ever happened – he did manage to get attacked by Dementors, but that was while another wizard, Mundungus Fletcher (a crook if I ever saw one!), was on duty. I just perched roasting slowly on his Muggle relatives' TV aerial for a few days. It's been an unspeakably hot summer in the south-east, and sitting on the roof in the midday sun covered in black feathers was no joke, I can tell you!

September 10, Tuesday

Noooooo! Not this! Bathsheba's just revealed that we are NOT following any Ministry-approved standard! The guidelines she gave me are all her own invention, and nobody's taken an OWL in Runes for the last three years! The exam papers I've been looking through were in fact some ten years old, since which time she's changed the contents of the course anyway. And the most tragic thing is that she's working on the basis of her own notes etc, and so when Umbridge comes to inspect Runes we don't even have a more or less decently complete-looking programme to show her! So what it amounts to is that I must sit down and produce an OWL-preparation programme AND a programme for beginners, preferably before the end of the week! She said thank heaven that at least nobody's taking NEWTs in Runes this year. Well, that's a relief!

September 11, Wednesday

Writing programmes.

September 12, Thursday

Writing programmes.

September 13, Friday

AAAAAAAAAAARGH!!!!!!

September 14, Saturday

Spent the whole day in the company of Madam Pince again. Nice to have the country's largest library on magic at one's disposal! Just like the old days. I go there when I don't have classes. Sadly, I'm forced to waste most of the time I spend among all those tantalisingly fascinating books, trying to piece together a presentable programme from all the various textbooks and anthologies. I wonder what the students think, they probably don't often see a teacher swotting in the library every day! Moreover, I nicked all the Rune-related books, and they can't do the homework I set them, ha ha. No, of course they can. I do admit I turn to other things when I get bored, getting on bit by bit with my research for the Rune dictionary. I mean programmes are all very well, but I have to report to Ruthwell every so often, and with all my running round Europe in summer and the injury and the Order I haven't done much of what was expected of me.

U hasn't been to any Runes classes yet, thank heaven.

September 15, Sunday

Just had the fright of my life. I completely forgot about the existence of Moaning Myrtle. I was having a bath like a decent person, closed my eyes for a minute and when I opened them again there was this transparent girl sitting on the tap and watching me with interest! I nearly drowned.

We chatted a little – after I'd scrambled out of the bath and wrapped myself securely in a towel, having asked her not to look, with which request I'm not at all certain that she complied – and she turned out to be a little better than I remembered. I only actually came into contact with her once before, when she haunted the boys' loo on the seventh floor for some reason. Not altogether a pleasant memory.

September 16, Monday

I've finally located my sense of something lacking at Hogwarts. I understood what I'd been missing today during dinner. I was scanning the faces of my colleagues idly, remembering what they taught (I remember them all now!), and comparing their number to the number of teachers at Durmstrang, and then I realised what I'd been missing: a teacher of a foreign language! They don't teach any bloody foreign languages here! But that's dreadful! We didn't have any when I was a student, but that was in the bloody seventies, and now the times have changed and the level of international co-operation has grown about tenfold. And they don't have any language training at all! For some reason, they don't even have any formal Latin the way we did, apparently they just learn the spells by heart like nonsense words. How can they invent new ones then?.. That's bad, that is. Studying a language develops your mind, and I'm really happy I learned that before I was too old in Uppsala. (Well, and before that visiting Aunt Marrion in Black Forest also helped, of course.) Hmmm. Duty calls, like. Not that I'm too eager to take on extra work but I'm not really that badly loaded yet... I'm off to talk to the Headmaster.

I'm back! Well, predictably, Dumbledore didn't have anything against the idea. He thought Swedish was too exotic, so in two weeks' time, I'm starting an optional German conversation class for students of years three and upwards. What with the amount of things they have to do, he thinks two hour-long classes a week is quite enough. I can use my Runes classroom. I hope it works – I mean I haven't been teaching a foreign language for five years for nothing, I hope!

September 17, Tuesday

I've made up notices about German classes, asked the house-elves to pin them up in the common rooms. Wonder if this undertaking actually attracts much attention...

September 18, Wednesday

Curiously uneventful day. Just business as usual. Spent almost all day reading.

September 19, Thursday

Bathsheba's found some more work for me. She says it would be good to collect all the texts that we use in the course into a single portfolio. She says that it'll make a better impression on the authorities, and, on the other hand, "where there's one assistant, there are two or more," she said, and it would be considerably easier for anyone new and not too conversant with the intricacies of the filing system in the library to be able to consult this single collection. I see her point. I just wonder what she meant by there possibly being more assistants – are there any more Order members in need of urgent placement?..

September 20, Friday

Just back from my beginners' class, and now that we've got going properly it looks like they begin to enjoy themselves and find the subject quite fascinating. That's very pleasing.

On the other hand, I do get this "oh, I don't want to do this" feeling every time I think about getting ready for their class or going there. I don't get it with the fifth-years. I suppose it's because (a) I'm not really into teaching beginners – although there are certain plus sides there, I still vastly prefer intermediate groups, and (b) there was at least one familiar face in the fifth-year class (Hermione Granger), which had the effect of making them seem less, well, scary.

September 21, Saturday

Spent almost the whole day in the library again, copying out the texts from anthologies, atlases and scrolls. It's ten o'clock at night now, and I hate Runes. I see staves and branches in every criss-crossing shadow on the floor.

September 22, Sunday

Just spent two hours listening to the rerun of Only Ghouls and Kelpies on the WWN. Those timeless old classics. This is, I think, the twelfth time I've heard it and I still enjoy it enormously! Looking forward to next Sunday's episodes! They also announced they'd be launching a new show soon, called The Hex and the City. Apparently, unlike G&K, it's about modern life. I'll give it a try. And it's been ages since they last broadcast Great Incantations, I'd listen to that with pleasure, too. Or, on the music front, Kneazles.

September 23, Monday

Just wanted to record that I underestimated Lavender Brown and Hannah Abbott. Probably they are not the most brainy students in the class, but I've been very pleasurably impressed today (now that they've got over their initial wariness of a new teacher, apparently) by their eagerness to learn and the active part they've begun to take in the discussion. The classes are becoming better and better, in fact. They were all a little overwhelmed three weeks ago, a little shy – except Hermione Granger and Terry Boot – and I had to force them into speaking, but now they've quite come into their own.

September 24, Tuesday

Dammit! It's Aunt Clarisse's birthday! I forgot! Off to Hogsmeade in a hurry to send her a card and a box of chocolate roses with an express owl.

September 25, Wednesday

Looks like my German enterprise is actually attracting attention! A few people I barely know have come up to me and asked questions. That's good, that. Mildly surprised at Hermione Granger not having volunteered to learn German yet! (I mean with all her interest towards Viktor Krum and all that.)

September 26, Thursday

I've started reading a book I borrowed from the library in the village yesterday – it's a good library, by the way, for fiction. It's a Muggle book by a lady called Diana Jones, entitled Howl's Moving Castle, and it's actually about wizards. I'm enjoying it very much. Nothing to do with the real wizarding world, of course, more of fairy-tales come true, but very nice. Maybe I'll even copy it for myself.

September 27, Friday

Sitting in the staff room. Been chatting to Fergus Merrythought, the Muggle Studies master. (His grandmother was a teacher here too, as it happens, way before my time.) I like him, he's cheerful. He's very young (I think he graduated from this very school about five years ago), and the funny thing is that although he's completely and utterly pureblood, he's so enthusiastic about Muggles he reminds me of Arthur Weasley. They fascinate him. I like that. He's always full of jokes, very outgoing, and even more interested in music than me.

September 28, Saturday

Just been talking to Prof. McGonagall. She actually wanted to talk to Severus, but she approached him after lunch as we were standing together, so she let me come along to her office too. She's worried about Hagrid. He should have returned by now, and there's no sight of him at all. She was asking S if he'd heard anything about him in the Death Eater circles, but he hadn't. I couldn't remember any talk around the International Relations Dept either, and I think I would have if Hagrid had got into trouble somewhere in Eastern Europe – formally, I belong to the Desk that deals with that region, after all! The last I heard about him was at the Order's last meeting in August, and he was supposed to be heading for/have reached the Urals, and since Dumbledore decided that seeking support from Kitezh was dangerous before we'd actually established their allegiance, we had no-one to keep an eye on Hagrid there. I hope he's OK.

And I promise it's not my fault that Kitezh haven't replied yet, they were among the first people I wrote to on D's instructions.

September 29, Sunday

Weekends are really funny here. All the teachers wander about, sit in the staff room idly, talk, have endless tea etc. Some head for Hogsmeade's pubs. It feels a bit like being a part of a group of tourists lounging about the boarding house when a mildly boring trip to the local castle has been rained off.

Finished the Moving Castle, it was great! Am off to the village for more books.

September 30, Monday

This new book I've taken, called Castle in the Air, turned out to be a sequel to the Moving Castle! Good, I hope it's just as enjoyable.