A/N: This story is post-Hogwarts and HBP. I kind of wanted to do what I wanted with it so I decided to stick with what I wanted and hopefully there won't be any die-hard fans all over my ass on this one.
Summary: Post Hogwarts and HBP. Harry Potter has managed to destroy Voldemort despite his sadness over Dumbledore's death. Since he has disappeared and Hogwarts had been run by the Second-in-Command, McGonagall. Now that she's stepping down and literally naming a non-traditional American as it's heir, would the world so quickly accept this new Headmaster?
Chapter One: Any Chance of A Regime Change?
The white walls of the apartment and the stainless steel appliances gave the feeling that no one who lived there intended to stay very long. In fact, the would be ex-tenant had lived there for several years off-campus, spending her time reading, writing, and marking papers. She had been in America for far too long. A lifetime.
The air in the bathroom was heavy with fog and heat. The silent occupant always enjoyed a hot shower to take her mind off the trying days at Salem's Tertiary School for Witches, teaching girls from eleventh to twelfth grade years. A reddish brown hand swept across the mirror and a young woman stared into the depths of her dark brown eyes, wary of what she saw.
With curly hair that fell to her bronze shoulder and smooth, shimmery skin, she was the daughter of an Englishman and an inner city school teacher from Washington, DC. A quarter European and an outcast to her mother's people. She frowned in the mirror, knowing exactly what the muggle-borns felt and why her grandfather fought so hard for their status in the wizarding world as her people fought for their place in America. Even if they didn't claim her.
She sighed again and wondered what she would do with her unruly mass of hair. It was too curly to be tamed by a comb and air-dried and it was too straight to perm. She'd made that mistake long ago it was a good thing that her hair was so thick or she would've looked diseased.
"I can't believe you did this to me pa-pa." she whispered to herself in a light English accent. She would be making her way to England for the first time since her grandfather's death. He'd dumped his crazy responsibilities into her lap the night he was murdered and she had been training and biding her time, hoping his underlings would forget his will. But to no avail. She'd gotten the call a month ago and now she would have to suck it up and fulfill a dead man's wish. Why he would appoint her, she had no clue. From what she heard, England was in a state of chaos directly after the war and was still holding trials and rebuilding its government to this day.
Naima didn't even know a thing about England except the big clock's name is Ben and their Queen's Elizabeth. Yep. That was the extent of it.
"So, did everyone turn up?" Came Minerva's annoying voice. Draco stared ahead and suppressed a moan. It always put him in the mind of someone trying to drive a banana through his head.
"Yes, Professor McGonagall," Longbotton began, "Everyone except--"
"I'm so sorry we're late," flustered, both Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley breathlessly broke through the door. Minerva seemed unamused.
"While I am confidant of your abilities to teach at this institution, I am afraid to say that I can't find you reliable. I will not tolerate such behavior."
"What behavior? We haven't done anything," Said the gangly red-head.
"As much I'd hate to think of it, let alone speak of such atrocities, I believe the Headmaster is referencing the spontaneous rut the two of you must have had before you realized you were late and dramatically came bursting through the doors."
"How dare you assume"
"Assume? You barely had enough time to button your blouse the correctly." He nodded with a smirk. Granger looked down at her shirt and blushed deeply and folded her robes over her shirt, too embarrassed to correct herself in front of everyone.
"Now that everyone is here, I would like to get started. Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger, please have a seat so we may continue." The two took their seats opposite Draco, glaring the whole way. It had been five years since they themselves had attended school. Weasley, in a move that would surprise and baffle him for years to come, had decided to go to a Wizarding community school for two years to earn his N.E.W.T.s. Bushy-Haired Bowling Pin Granger studied under Professor Vector a year after the war had ended and took her places only last year as the Arithmancy teacher. Draco, himself, came out of hiding after a last moment change-of-heart just before the final battle between good and evil and decided he didn't want to chance it in Azkaban if he somehow, by the grace of God, were able to survive Voldemort after his failing to kill Dumbledore.
Professor Snape, unfortunately, earned his name back in the eyes of Voldemort after he'd done the deed and worked for some secret organization against the snake up until the final battle, passing off important information on Voldemort's manpower and weaknesses. He retired after the death of the world's would-be dictator and now lives in some remote area in Northern England, knowing that the world would never forgive him for taking the life of the man that worked so hard to deliver them from the evil that threatened the sanctity of the world, regardless if it was on his orders.
When Draco hadn't been the one to kill the old coot, he breathed a small sigh of relief, despite the horridness of it all. Dumbledore was a powerful man. And if it were not his final words to him or the very power his body emanated the moment he set his wand on him, Draco might have been the one to kill him. Thankfully, he was not turned into that monster, and Severus had taken the flak.
Not to say that he was a social miracle.
None of the circles wanted him. Not the high-class, not the low-class, not the royal, nor the peasant. The students who he went to school with were wary of his presence, and the younger school girls were charmed at his 'rebellious' ways. So, despite his efforts in the last battle, everyone seemed to turn their backs on him and scoff. Even the great amount of money he had meant little if people would never resort to its use for fear of being an outcast like him, or worse, accused of supporting a former Death Eater.
There, he'd said it.
He was stupid enough at some point to accept that damnable mark that would scar him for the rest of his life. No one would want him now. The only person he had was his arrogant mother who still muttered incoherent things about the rise of a pure race and strange things about his father who had been locked up in Azkaban for good. He was thankful that he had avoided that but was still depressed that this was what he would have to endure for the rest of his life. Not to mention that he couldn't meet any girls his age without getting the cold shoulder, or go a day without being inappropriately touched or teased by some minor.
"Now," Minerva began, bringing Draco out of his deep thought, "I have brought you all together to tell you some important news. I am retiring." The room was in an uproar, and Draco's calm, yet excited body remained still and silent as everyone screamed about not wanting any other leader or not wanting to see her go and how terrible it was, blah, blah, blah...
"Please be still." she shouted over them. It took a while for the room to quiet down, but it remained tense as people only settled slightly, their bodies still in a position to spring to action at any moment.
"I have decided that I have grown far too old to manage a school and perform my duties as the Transfiguration teacher. I am stretched far too thin and on good conscious I cannot maintain that position. Instead, I have appointed a new leader, one that was intended to take over Hogwarts in the case that...well, that the Headmaster would expire."
"That would be the Deputy Headmaster, Minerva, that would be Draco." Said Know-It-All-Granger. Draco's body froze up. He wasn't even thinking clearly. Of course he would be the next in line. But he was sure that the current Board of Governors wouldn't like that. No. An ex-Death Eater Headmaster would not do at all.
"In this case it would not, dear Hermione." Draco was taken aback. What was this? Was she going to appoint someone like bushy-haired Granger or bumbling-idiot Weasley? Please, dear Merlin, not Longbottom.
"In fact, the former Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore intended for someone else to take over the school in the case of his death. I have only been an acting Headmaster until the party was old enough– and willing enough– to accept the job."
"Old enough?" Draco repeated, incredulous.
"Yes, old enough," came her short reply.
"We're going to have some seventeen-year-old running our school."
"She isn't seventeen, she is twenty-one."
"Twenty-one? That younger than us, Ms. McGonagall!" Longbottom exclaimed.
"I am well aware of that, Mr. Longbottom, but I can assure you, she is highly qualified for the job."
"I mean, has she even had a teaching job yet?"
"Yes, in America for four years."
"She was hired straight out of school?"
"She was quite impressive from what I hear. Not a veteran auror, but I have heard some amazing things about her.
"Why would Dumbledore recommend some random chit to run his school?" Draco began. "Why not Potter?"
"He had a feeling that Potter would not appreciate to be in the limelight post-war. He figured he would want a peaceful life after we've taxed him so." Potter took the liberty of doing that without having to be told. The world hadn't heard of him since the last battle. Some believe him dead, others who haven't met him believe him to be some mythological character the ministry created to facilitate patriotism. But Draco knew better. He was pulling a Snape.
"He has appointed someone that was in his direct bloodline. A young American witch by the name of Naima Dumbledore."
"Naima? Isn't that Arabic? Dumbledore has an Arab..."
"Grand-daughter. And she isn't Arab." McGonagall sighed.
"That's a weird name for an Englishwoman." McGonagall sighed. "We are besides the point here. I am certain of her capability and her reign here as the next Headmaster will mark the beginning of a period of rest and stability."
Draco frowned and muttered, "You sound like the PRs during the rise of the Third Reich."
The ride from Hogsmead to Hogwarts was quick and painless. As the sight of the castle swam into view, Naima found herself in awe. As much as she'd heard of this place, it still didn't prepare her for seeing it.
The academies in Salem were huge college campus' and were located in the seeing eye s of the muggles. It was so unnecessary to cover the schools in the historically magical town, and the schools were located in painfully obvious locations and were even recognized as institutions by the local government. Of course, the names of the courses were coded, and the students had to keep up with their muggle class studies such as math and science and English as well as fulfilling many other classes that prepared them for the SATs. But of course, the rest were coded and the students enjoyed their magical sides soon after. This is why it was so necessary to send them to school for the full fourteen years of school that the everyday muggles endured.
Their facilities were state-of-the-art, but like her company apartment, it lacked personality. And as she adjusted her pleated skirt and carefully stepped out of the invisibly drawn carriage in her Steve Madden pumps, she had to remind herself that she was not in a fairytale and that her grandfather really once ruled the halls of this magnificent creature.
As her eyes cut to the great doors in the front of the castle, she checked her hair to be sure it stayed in it's perfect waves and checked in a compact mirror to see if her makeup stayed. Se smiled at her reflection. I hope I impress them. I can't imagine how many people I've pissed off already and I haven't even set foot inside the castle yet.
"Ms. Dumbledore! So nice to see you!" Naima smiled as she was greeted by a stately older witch in black robes. She forgot how formal this school was. She had to change the rules a bit. There's no way she's running around in those ugly, itchy...
"So pleased to meet you!" A young woman, perhaps a bit older than she, ran out and extended her hand. Naima was relieved when she saw her in dark green robes. A little too conservative still, but at least I know I've got options.
She shook her hand and looked behind him to see that the rest of the staff had come out to greet her from the current Headmistress to the tiniest house elf. She attempted to shake everyone's hand and assured them that she was happy to make their acquaintance.
Whoa, was Draco's first reaction, The old coot was dipping into chocolate. He looked her down and decided the move didn't heed a bad result. She was cute, for an American. When she had shook his hand, he was alarmed that she did so with a strength that spoke of sincerity and wisdom. I guess with a wizard like Dumbledore, it's a rule for power and wisdom to be inherited.
But he still wasn't convinced. This girl pushed him out of his would-be prominent position as the Headmaster. And although his more intelligent side argued that he would never last because of an overwhelming amount of complaints the school would receive, he was resigned to believe her to have conspired with McGonagall to snatch his authority away.
"This is the Great Hall where we dine. Breakfast is served from six am until morning classes begin. Lunch is from eleven to one and dinner is from seven to nine." The woman named Minerva McGonagall closed the great doors and swept down the hallway. "I will now show you your office and your rooms."
After a three hour tour and the retrieval of a magical map of the compound. Naima was tired, hungry, and overwhelmed. The place was larger than looked on the outside– not to mention the strange rooms that appeared out of nowhere and moving staircases. She'd seen moving portraits but Salem didn't have as many.
When McGonagall finally showed her the office, she was relieved to finally take a seat, and out of respect, sat in front of the desk. McGonagall smiled. "You don't have to be polite. You are the new Headmaster. Please, take your seat."
"I don't think I'd be comfortable filling my grandfather's seat just yet." The thunderous voice frightened her so much that a strange, foreign noise escaped her throat and she whipped around at the sight of it.
"And just why not?" It was the portrait of her grandfather, smiling that knowing smile of his. And Naima couldn't help but think that the painter really got the twinkling eye thing down.
Jaiasa here! I hope you all liked my new story, and not to worry! I finally bought a new laptop since my old one's keyboard was a little shoddy (about one year too late). I welcome all forms of criticism! I'm no wuss! Please do your worse (or your best-- whichever suits you) and don't hesitate to R&R.
Love Ya!