Professor McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts, stood in the entryway to the Great Hall, watching the students file in. Next to her stood the Professor of Transfiguration, who was watching them as carefully as her colleague for misbehavior. "You know, Minerva, it almost seems normal by now, to be a teacher instead of a student," said the professor.

McGonagall nodded solemnly. "You do get used to it." She smiled faintly at greetings from some students old enough to remember when she had been Head of Gryffindor House, instead of Headmistress. She watched them pass, her gaze tinged by a slight sadness. "It's finally beginning to feel like the world and the school are back in order again, all these first years who are too young to remember much about the War. They seem innocent and care-free once more."

Both of them had plenty of memories of that time when Voldemort and his supporters had attacked the school, having both fought against him in what later became known as the Battle of Hogwarts.

"Well," McGonagall said in a much brisker tone than before, "that does seem to be all of them. If you would please retrieve the first years and bring them in with the Hat and the stool."

Professor Hermione Granger smiled, recalling when she had been Sorted: She and the Hat had had a lively debate about the merits of the Houses it had suggested, which had lasted for over a minute before it had placed her in Gryffindor. "Of course, Minerva," she said, then walked to the front door to wait for the knock.

The Sorting went off without a hitch, except for "Genus, Janice," who pouted when the Hat put her in Hufflepuff and refused to leave the stool until it had changed its mind. "But my mum was a Ravenclaw," she whined as Professor Sprout led her rather impatiently to the Hufflepuff table.

There was the usual appreciative "Ooh!" at the sudden appearance of food, for which McGonagall gave the signal with little preamble. They all stuffed themselves, even the professors, and Hermione gratefully took in the wide variety of dishes the Head Table had the privilege of sampling.

Finally, McGonagall signaled for silence. "Quiet, please!" she said over the noise in the Great Hall, waving her wand, which was giving off gold sparks. "I am Professor McGonagall, your headmistress here at Hogwarts. I have some start-of-term announcements to make." Slowly, the conversations died out, and when she had their full attention, she pulled a short, rolled parchment from inside her robes. "First, I would like to emphasize that first-years are not permitted to own their own broomsticks." She shot a pointed look at the Slytherin table, where one student apparently had attempted to flout the rule. "However, a generous donation of ten Firebolts has been made to the school." There was much cheering and clapping at this. "Also, Mr. Filch has asked that on return from Hogsmeade, all students allow their bags to be searched-" the cheers turned to groans- "because of the unfortunate incident last term with the owl."

Hermione, rule-abiding though she was, had to stifle a giggle. One of the owls from the Hogsmeade Post Office had smuggled itself into the castle inside a student's bag and proceeded to run amok in the Ravenclaw common room, landing on heads and relieving itself on Professor Flitwick. She pretended to be looking at McGonagall attentively, then noticed a face at the table that had not been there when she sat, a face she recognized.

Asher Erised, former classmate of hers after transferring from the Yorke Academy of Sorcery in the States their fourth year, had appeared, and was now sitting in the chair usually claimed by the Potions professor.

"Finally, I would like to welcome our new Potions master, Professor Erised, who will be taking over from Professor Petalston," McGonagall said, gesturing to Asher, who stood and nodded politely to light applause. Hermione noticed that many of the boys, and even Professor Flitwick, were eyeing her rather hungrily. "She will be teaching from a different classroom than before, so make sure to go to the correct dungeon." Asher nodded again and smiled faintly, but said nothing as she sat back down.

Hermione gazed down the table with surprise. She hadn't known about Jean Petalston leaving, or who would be replacing her. She hadn't seen Asher since they had graduated. She remembered vividly the first time she'd seen her, in her fourth year.

Hogwarts, Hermione's Fourth Year

Professor McGonagall had called for the class to be quiet as soon as everyone had filed in to the Transfigurations classroom. She glanced around the classroom, finally silencing the especially talkative students, who were speculating about the Triwizard Tournament, which Dumbledore had announced at the Welcoming Feast. "Welcome back, everyone. If you would please open your books to page eight, we will be attempting to transfigure mice-"

She stopped speaking abruptly at the opening of the classroom door. Everyone craned their necks to see who would dare interrupt her lesson, but it was Dumbledore. With him was an ivory-skinned, black-haired, serious-looking girl their age who Harry and Ron didn't know, but they were drawn to her at once. Hermione cleared her throat loudly, looking peeved- she noticed that several of the other male students were staring at her as well.

Dumbledore ushered the girl, who was wearing pristine Hogwarts robes and carrying a brand-new Transfiguration textbook, into the classroom, winked at McGonagall, and left. The professor cleared her throat, looking for just a moment as if she was nervous. "Everyone," she began, looking round at the students to assure she had their attention. "This is Asher Erised. She has transferred from her school in the United States." There were murmurs around the classroom; who had ever heard of a transfer student at Hogwarts? "She has been placed with Gryffindor house, and will be attending all classes with Gryffindor." There was more whispering. What about the Sorting Hat?

Hermione's eyes narrowed. Unless she had been mistaken, Professor McGonagall had just said the girl's last name was Erised. She had heard that before: Harry had told her about the Mirror of Erised during their first year, and how it showed your heart's desire when you stood in front of it. She glanced at Harry, seeing that he had been jolted out of his trance by the name, making the connection. Ron's face, however, had gone a bit misty. None of the other students knew about the mirror, so it was lost on them.

"Ms. Erised," McGonagall said softly, "I've placed an extra mouse at that desk there, so if you would just have a seat, we can continue with our lesson. Page eight, please." Hermione stared at the Professor. Usually she spoke briskly and efficiently, but she had sounded almost gentle. What was so special about this new girl? She watched Asher sit, alone, with her back to Hermione's table, a row ahead and to the right. She had opened her textbook and was shuffling through the pages. Her face had been a bit round, Hermione recalled, and just on the pretty side of plain. Her wavy black hair hung above her shoulders. She hadn't made eye contact with anyone, but that didn't stop everyone from staring at her, the boys especially. Hermione kicked Ron under the table as Professor McGonagall started speaking again, stifling a smile at his startled reaction, and resolved to do some research on the American school when she could get to the library next.

After they were dismissed, the boys in the class, including Ron, had all gone up to her to say hello. They seemed oddly intent on the task, puffing themselves up and introducing themselves pompously. Ron had tried to give her a winning smile, but Asher had only raised an eyebrow and pointed out in a flat American accent that he had a bit of egg in his teeth.

"D'you think she's related to whoever made the Mirror?" Harry asked as they waited for Ron outside the door, having been curious enough about her name to resist the urge to go and greet her and consult Hermione instead.

"I think that's more than likely," Hermione said. "It's not a common name, is it? It certainly won't have slipped past Dumbledore. I'll go to the library and see what I can find out about it. I can't remember the name of the American school, so I'll look that up, too. I think it's located in New York."

"Where?" Harry asked, not having read much about other countries. The last time he had read anything about the United States was before he had come to Hogwarts, when he had gone to a Muggle school.

"Oh, honestly, Harry, it's only the largest city in the States," Hermione said impatiently. "Millions live there." She tapped a foot. "Where's Ron?"

She was answered a moment later, as they saw him trailing Asher out of the Transfiguration classroom. She seemed to be studiously ignoring him, walking quickly with her books gripped to her chest. He seemed content to keep following, but Harry grabbed him by the arm. "Where're you going? It's time for lunch."

Ron looked at Harry as if he'd never met him, then said distractedly, "I've just got to make sure she makes it back to the common room alright."

"Really, Ron," Hermione said, then stepped firmly on his foot.

"OW!" Ron winced and looked at both of them, recognition on his face. "What'd you do that for?"

"Come on," Harry said, hiding a grin. "We'll have a chance to talk to her after classes are over, but I'm hungry. Let's eat." At the mention of food, Ron perked up and followed the two of them to the Great Hall.

Ron wasn't the only one who appeared to be bewitched by Asher Erised. The news of a transfer, highly unusual, had spread quickly among the students, and when she appeared in the Hall for lunch, sitting alone at the very end of the Gryffindor table, away from the rest, whispers started up.

"-hear she got kicked out-"

"But Dumbledore let her in, she can't have done anything too bad-"

"-noticed how she doesn't talk to anyone?"

"Probably because her accent is funny."

Hermione had already gone to the library and back, and was sitting at the table with no fewer than four new books, two of which were about other wizarding schools. "It says here that the Yorke Academy of Sorcery has gotten so big in recent years that it had to increase the number of Houses—which they call Clans- from five to seven, and they had to magically expand the school," she said with interest, pointing at a passage from A Brief History of Prominent Wizarding Schools: Then and Now. "I wonder which House she was in?"

"She was probably in a House by herself," Fred quipped. "She doesn't seem to even notice that there are other students here."

"If everyone was staring at you and whispering behind your back, you would probably ignore them, too," Harry said pointedly, knowing full well how it felt. Fred conceded the point with a nod and a mumble, as he had stuffed his mouth full of treacle, and munched on it unconcernedly, leaning back over the diagram he and George were working on. Hermione noticed that George's eyes kept going to Asher's end of the table when he thought no one was looking.

The other classes with Asher that day were much the same: the boys gazing at her hopefully; Hermione making annoyed noises- "She's not even that pretty!"; Asher speaking only to the professors, who didn't seem surprised at all to see a new student joining their classes at the beginning of Fourth Year.

After classes were over, they headed back to the common room. "She didn't ride the train to school, or go to the Feast, or get Sorted," Harry was saying. "The professors are acting like it's not strange for her to just.. show up for the first day of classes."

"Well, they probably knew about her coming," Hermione said. "Dumbledore would tell everyone. I mean, he had to be the one to approve the transfer." She was wondering what kind of circumstances would cause her family to move to Europe. Asher herself certainly didn't seem happy about it- she hadn't smiled all day. "How are they going to fit her bed in our dormitory? It's going to be a bit cramped with six of us."

As they approached the painting of the Fat Lady, they saw McGonagall walking with Asher to the common room as well. "Ah, Ms. Granger," the Professor said, waving her over. "Ms. Erised, this is Hermione Granger. She's an excellent student, and if you have any questions about your classes, she will be able to answer them. She's also in Fourth Year."

This was the first opportunity Hermione had had to talk to Asher, and she stuck out her hand, her face a bit pink at the compliment. "Hello, nice to meet you," she said briskly.

Asher extended her own hand cautiously, shook strongly, and nodded. "Asher," she said shortly, though not as if she were cross. Her face was solemn.

"And this is Ronald Weasley, and Harry Potter," McGonagall continued, pointing at each of them in turn. They started to hold their hands out to shake, Ron looking hopeful, but Asher's hand remained firmly at her side, and she only nodded briefly at them both. She showed no reaction to Harry's name, and said nothing. Ron's face fell and he cleared his throat, suddenly becoming very interested in the border of the Fat Lady's portrait.

"Now, if you'll come this way, Ms. Erised," McGonagall said, muttering the password at the Fat Lady, "I'll just show you around the dormitory and to your room."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered through the hole behind the portrait behind Asher and McGonagall, watching as the Professor led her not, as they'd expected, to the girls' dormitories, but to a small, dimly lit hall that held a disused storage closet and a lavatory.

"Wonder why they're going back there," Ron said curiously.

"Dunno," said Harry. "Maybe they're getting extra stuff for her spot in the girls' room."

Hermione split off from them to make a quick trip up to the room she shared with the other girls in fourth year to deposit a couple of books in her trunk. When she came back down, her face held a small frown. She hurried over to Ron and Harry, who had gotten out their Wizard Chess sets, and glanced around. "There's no extra bed in the dormitory," she said quietly, not wanting Asher to hear her.

"What d'you mean? Where's she going to sleep?" Ron asked, pausing in his arrangement of the pieces. "I don't go there, idiot!" exclaimed one of his rooks, shaking a fist. "Oh, shut up," Ron replied with a scowl, moving him to the corner.

"I think she's staying in that old closet," Harry said, his eyes on something behind Ron. They turned to see Asher emerging from the hallway, her robes gone, dressed instead in a pair of holey black corduroy trousers and a faded orange t-shirt that proclaimed "Rock Lobster '99!"

"She gets her own room?" Ron moaned enviously, moving a pawn forward. "Wish I was that lucky." Harry voiced his agreement.

Hermione remained silent, watching as Asher sat in a far corner and pulled out her books to study, suddenly feeling suspicious. Before the other girl would notice her looking, she pulled a copy of the Daily Prophet out, idly reading the headline: Dangerous Fugitive Captured in Egypt After Weeks Long Pursuit. She flicked a final glance up at Asher before settling down to read. There was something off about the girl, and she had vowed that she would find out what it was.

The suspicion came back to her as she sat down the table from Asher, inspecting the newly appointed Potions professor. As usual, she wasn't saying much, though McGonagall spoke to her from time to time, and she answered in a friendly manner. Her round face had lengthened and thinned a bit, and her wavy black hair was pinned, much like McGonagall's, in a neat bun at the back of her neck. Her robes were cobalt blue and immaculate. She wore little jewelry, except for a thin, tarnished silver ring with an onyx stone in it on her right ring finger. Her hands were scarred around the palms, and she looked weary, with hints of circles under her greyish, hazel eyes.

Hermione caught her own name mentioned in their conversation. "Granger took my place as Transfigurations professor, you two can catch up." Not like they had much to catch up on- they hadn't really been friends, despite being in the same year. Asher had spent most of her time studying or hiding in her room, and had typically avoided social situations with the other Gryffindors.

After the War, Hermione had returned to Hogwarts for her final year of schooling, as had Asher, indicating that she, too, had been out of school during what was supposed to be their seventh year. What had she been doing all that time? Why had the professors accepted it as a matter of course, instead of being suspicious at her absence? Hermione's attempts to find out had been met with polite evasion.

Hermione had accepted the Transfigurations position as soon as she had graduated from Hogwarts, when she was nineteen years old. She was going to be twenty-three in a couple of weeks, and so was Asher, she assumed. Where had she gone between graduating and returning to teach? They had needed a new Potions master immediately, as Professor Petalston had only agreed to fill in for a year after Snape was killed, but had been wheedled into staying longer, as there was no one else.

There was a certain irony in Asher taking Snape's former position, she reflected. Snape had instantly hated Asher almost as much as he had hated Harry, though no one had known why. In response, Asher, unlike the other students, had stood up to him often, and though she lost uncountable points for Gryffindor that way, the other students in their House admired the way she handled him so much that they didn't mind.

Her eyes had gone unfocused while she thought, but she belatedly realized that her eyes had been on Asher. The other woman lifted an eyebrow at her as she conversed with McGonagall, who looked Hermione's way, following Asher's gaze. Hermione looked away hurriedly, flushing, and pretended to be fascinated with her plate as she hid her burning cheeks. She would speak with Asher later, on the pretense of asking after her former classmate's life and health. It would only be polite, after all.