Title: Yellow Eyes
Author: Merry
Archive: fanfiction.net
Summary: Madam Hooch takes a year off...
Spoilers: GoF
Rating: G, so far
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement is intended, this is for entertainment purposes only and I am making no money, I promise!
Originally posted: ff.net 2/6/02
Notes: (if any) The very beginning is set near the end of GoF, I may or may not mention much about it. I'm assuming that Harry's 4th year is my freshman year of high school.
Warnings: (If any) Just another "Someone Goes To America and Comes Back With Someone New" story; and I made up a name for Madam Hooch. If you know the real one, leave a review!
Feedback: (email address) shootmenowplease@hotmail.com, or leave a review!
Albus Dumbledore bowed his head. "Very well, Madam. I assume you'll only be gone for one year?"
"Yes, sir. My brother has secured me a position in America." Minoa Hooch watched the Headmaster apprehensively, lest he object.
True to form, his clear blue eyes revealed alarm. "America! Monoa, are you sure you want to go that far? Muggles have the same sports in Great Britain as in the States."
"I am absolutely positive. Being so close to Hogwarts would tempt me to return often, and that would confuse the students."
Dumbledore sighed, but consented. "Very well, very well. I will arrange for you to Portkey over shortly after the end of term."
For the first time in several months, Minoa grinned excitedly. "Thank you, Albus! I have a list of recommendations for temporary replacements, if you'd like it." She yanked a folded piece of parchment out of the front pocket of her robes, and handed it to the older man.
"Before you leave, I have one thing to ask." Dumbledore told her, still reading down the list.
"Yes?"
"While you are abroad, I would rather you change your appearance. Hogwarts teachers are very distinctive, you especially. Would you consent to using an Aging Potion?" He looked up.
Madam Hooch paused, then spoke. "Of course, Albus. Should I use a different name, perhaps?"
Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, that seems like a good idea. You are, after all, quite well known. Now, about your substitute..."
~
When Vernon Dursley snatched the ringing phone off of the hall table and barked a, "Hello?" into it, he was surprised to hear what sounded like a telemarketer with a very queer accent at the other end.
"Hello. May I please speak with a Mister Harry Potter?" The woman's voice asked.
Vernon snarled at her to wait, and hollered up the stairs. "Boy! Telephone!"
Harry came racing down the stairs, looking confused. "Me?"
His uncle handed him the phone with a nasty smile. "Telemarketer. You had better be polite, boy!"
"Yes, sir." Harry put the telephone to his ear. "Hello?"
"Happy Birthday, Harry!" Hermione's voice sounded delighted to hear him. "Don't say anything besides yes or no, and tell him I'm taking a survey."
"Alright," Harry responded warily, eyeing his uncle (who was standing behind him listening).
"Are you doing okay?" She asked, sounding anxious.
"Yes," He assured her.
"Good. Things have been quiet so far this summer, Harry, nothing major has happened. Well, nothing you won't find out about in September. Anyway, have you heard from Ron?"
Harry thought of the several letters Ron had sent, one complete with a wizarding picture of the Dream Team. "Yes, I have."
"I thought as much. All right, Harry, I'm glad to hear you're doing well enough. I have to go soon, and I don't want to make your uncle angry."
"All right. Goodbye." Harry told her, and hung up the phone. Before his uncle could barrage him with questions, Hermione's "Happy Birthday" flashed through his mind. Was it his birthday?
Harry turned to face his uncle. "What did she want?" Vernon demanded, getting red in the face.
"She was taking a survey about birthdays," Harry responded cooly, and escaped up the stairs to check his calendar.
Author: Merry
Archive: fanfiction.net
Summary: Madam Hooch takes a year off...
Spoilers: GoF
Rating: G, so far
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement is intended, this is for entertainment purposes only and I am making no money, I promise!
Originally posted: ff.net 2/6/02
Notes: (if any) The very beginning is set near the end of GoF, I may or may not mention much about it. I'm assuming that Harry's 4th year is my freshman year of high school.
Warnings: (If any) Just another "Someone Goes To America and Comes Back With Someone New" story; and I made up a name for Madam Hooch. If you know the real one, leave a review!
Feedback: (email address) shootmenowplease@hotmail.com, or leave a review!
Albus Dumbledore bowed his head. "Very well, Madam. I assume you'll only be gone for one year?"
"Yes, sir. My brother has secured me a position in America." Minoa Hooch watched the Headmaster apprehensively, lest he object.
True to form, his clear blue eyes revealed alarm. "America! Monoa, are you sure you want to go that far? Muggles have the same sports in Great Britain as in the States."
"I am absolutely positive. Being so close to Hogwarts would tempt me to return often, and that would confuse the students."
Dumbledore sighed, but consented. "Very well, very well. I will arrange for you to Portkey over shortly after the end of term."
For the first time in several months, Minoa grinned excitedly. "Thank you, Albus! I have a list of recommendations for temporary replacements, if you'd like it." She yanked a folded piece of parchment out of the front pocket of her robes, and handed it to the older man.
"Before you leave, I have one thing to ask." Dumbledore told her, still reading down the list.
"Yes?"
"While you are abroad, I would rather you change your appearance. Hogwarts teachers are very distinctive, you especially. Would you consent to using an Aging Potion?" He looked up.
Madam Hooch paused, then spoke. "Of course, Albus. Should I use a different name, perhaps?"
Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, that seems like a good idea. You are, after all, quite well known. Now, about your substitute..."
~
When Vernon Dursley snatched the ringing phone off of the hall table and barked a, "Hello?" into it, he was surprised to hear what sounded like a telemarketer with a very queer accent at the other end.
"Hello. May I please speak with a Mister Harry Potter?" The woman's voice asked.
Vernon snarled at her to wait, and hollered up the stairs. "Boy! Telephone!"
Harry came racing down the stairs, looking confused. "Me?"
His uncle handed him the phone with a nasty smile. "Telemarketer. You had better be polite, boy!"
"Yes, sir." Harry put the telephone to his ear. "Hello?"
"Happy Birthday, Harry!" Hermione's voice sounded delighted to hear him. "Don't say anything besides yes or no, and tell him I'm taking a survey."
"Alright," Harry responded warily, eyeing his uncle (who was standing behind him listening).
"Are you doing okay?" She asked, sounding anxious.
"Yes," He assured her.
"Good. Things have been quiet so far this summer, Harry, nothing major has happened. Well, nothing you won't find out about in September. Anyway, have you heard from Ron?"
Harry thought of the several letters Ron had sent, one complete with a wizarding picture of the Dream Team. "Yes, I have."
"I thought as much. All right, Harry, I'm glad to hear you're doing well enough. I have to go soon, and I don't want to make your uncle angry."
"All right. Goodbye." Harry told her, and hung up the phone. Before his uncle could barrage him with questions, Hermione's "Happy Birthday" flashed through his mind. Was it his birthday?
Harry turned to face his uncle. "What did she want?" Vernon demanded, getting red in the face.
"She was taking a survey about birthdays," Harry responded cooly, and escaped up the stairs to check his calendar.