Ahahaha, so much for updating over the summer. I've had most of this on my memory stick for ages, but I didn't get round to finishing it until lunch today. I barely remembered what had happened, but I made do. Also, there might be a couple of typos and general punctuation fail towards the end 'cause I wrote it on my iPod touch and I edited it all with one hand 'cause I was eating mah din-dins.

Weasely-

If you must know, you won.

I'm currently crashing at Jessa's flat, annoying her while she works and not transfiguring my bed back into the sofa so she can navigate the living room. She won't admit it, but I'm convinced that she only lets me stay for the hangover potion. Either that or my cooking.

Have I even introduced Jess to you? If I haven't then I probably should, considering her and Nat are my bestest buds. I should also track down my not-so-bestest buds while I'm home, though you won't want to meet them I most likely fell out of contact with them for a good reason.

I should also start thinking of lesson plans, but a) I'm procrastinating (it feels weird to be doing this again after 5 years) and b) I need to have an interview before I can officially take up the post. Since they're desperate, it's only a formality. Plus I may have a little wander around the school. You'll have to tell me where all the interesting stuff is. I think Potter mentioned lending me a map, but maps are for the weak. If you have a map, you have no excuse for being late and going where you aren't supposed to.

Oh, hang on - I've just received a letter from the school. What good timing. Blah blah blah, I have a meeting with Headmistress McGonagall at 2 o'clock on Wednesday. And I'll be escorted - is it just me or does that word sound vaguely wrong - to her office so I won't have to arrive Tuesday morning and find the room by trial and error. How thoughtful of them.

Is McGonagall the scary one that can talk to cats? I think she took me around Diagon Alley for school stuff... 15, 16 years ago. Damn, I feel old.

- Skippy

Skippy,

I heard from Ron that it took alcohol to make you agree. I'd be careful if I were you - one of the most powerful wizards in the country knows your weakness. If it makes you feel any better, I only laughed for five minutes.

You have told me about your friends and I feel sorry for the one you're staying with. Do you still sleep in? I can imagine you taking up the living room until the afternoon, with Jessa trapped until you move.

If you have been given the map I think you've been given, you'll be taking back what you said by the end of the first week. We had the Marauders' Map in until our 5th year, then gave it to Harry so he could sneak into Hogsmeade (find the statue of the hump-backed witch).

How did the interview go? You'll know by now that, yes, McGoogles is the scary one, especially if you asked if she could talk to cats. If you did, you would also know that she's a cat animagus. Between her and the caretaker's cat, it's surprising we managed to sneak out as much as we did and not end up with a reflex to run away from cats.

We should meet up one evening now we're in the same country.

George

The interview went very well, thank you.

You have too little faith in me - I know that you aren't supposed to ask your potential employer questions at your interview. You wait until after you've been offered the job, then you can start asking.

I didn't have enough time to explore (though I will remember to find that statue. Sure, I can leave whenever I want, but there's no sense of adventure in walking out the front door) because I was sent to the other muggle studies teacher, who is an incompetent madwoman that I want to set on fire using her own lesson plans. Which she expects me to use. Pffft. One of the conditions of me taking the job was that I could do whatever I want, and that is what I plan on doing.

Here's my to-do list:

1. Quit job

2. Buy briefcase

3. Buy alcohol to store in briefcase

4. Go back to old high school and terrorise head teacher for information

5. Find somebody who wasn't taught by the useless woman and ask to share memories of what was taught

6. Stockpile past OWL and NEWT exam papers

7. ?

8. PROFIT

9. Clean bathtub

So far, I have only accomplished #3. #9 is kinda moot now that Jessa's brother has come back from school and is sleeping on my sofa.

I'm staying with Nat at the moment, but her flat is shiny and new and therefore lacks a bathtub. Instead, there is the best shower ever. It even has a radio in it!

When are you free? I'll have to go back to work on Saturday to resign, but after that all I have to do is prepare for September.

- Skippy

I should be worried for your sanity, but by now it's too late so instead I'll ask you: what do you think of Hogwarts? And what did the muggle studies professor do to deserve being burned alive? She can't be as bad as my 7th year defense professor, the great toad.

Also, I'll add your students to the list of people I feel sorry for. You're going about this logically, so whatever you're planning will be brilliant and effective, no doubt.

Talking of the list, I can help with #5. Although, I will have to ask dad if he remembers what he did for NEWT muggle studies, since I only took it until 5th year. Saturday evening, maybe? I still have some paperwork to do but it should be finished by tomorrow.

George

Yeah, Saturday's fine. As soon as I've finished this letter, I'm off! Yeah, that means it'll be a quickie. Which is good, since I've only got the little scrap at the bottom of your letter to write on. You never write much either - that better mean that you have lots of awesome stories to tell me over a drink or five.

My reply, in order: it's okay, she just bugs me, thank you (that bit is sarcasm, by the way) and yay! I'll elaborate tomorrow, Nat's complaining about the lack of living room space and I need to undo the transfiguration before she revokes my mini-fridge rights. I need that shit for potion storage, man.

Actually, no, I'll just say this about Hogwarts before I forget: when people say that it's a castle, you're like 'yeah, a castle, right.' and then you see it, and OMFG IT'S A CASTLE! I mean, you were expecting a castle, but the word does it no justice. It should be renamed a 'castle-inator' because if that thing could walk, that's world domination right there.

Anyway, see ya later :)

- Skippy

"And then I said, 'Fuck you and the broom you rode in on, I'm doing my own lesson plans,' then she-"

"Come on, you didn't say that!" George exclaimed, eyes watering as he waved his wand, the puddle from his spit-take vanished in an instant.

The pair sat either side of a breakfast bar, a nearly empty bottle of firewhiskey between them and the clock on the wall reading 12:32 AM (Go on, go to sleep). Skippy had arrived in the man's kitchen roughly five hours previously with a bottle of tequila (thankfully unopened as of yet), green eyes shining with untold stories. Since then, they had taken it in turns to update the other on what they had been up to in between singing along to the wireless. Neither of them knew the words to any of the songs, but they had fun regardless.

"Nah." she smiled, lifting her glass and tilting it in his direction. "I did tell her I had no intention of using her plans though. There were no field trips or guest speakers or even showing them household appliances. It was literally just describing stuff and hoping the students drew the right mental picture, if not they fail." George frowned and shook his head.

"That sounds a lot like what we did in school." He paused. "Well, we did get to play with the artifacts, but only because we snuck them out of the garage."

"Garage?"

"Where else would dad hide his toys?" George's grin faded as he remembered. "When we were fourteen..." The change in his tone made Skippy's back straighten up and look at her friend with concern. "Dad had a flying car-"

"Awesome." she interrupted, utterly distracted. "Just, yes."

"Yeah." His smile strengthened as he continued. "Anyway, Ron - my youngest brother - saw us driving it and told us that he'd tell mum unless we went to Surrey to rescue Harry."

"Aww, he must have been absolutely diddy back then." She cooed, off subject. "Wait, rescued?"

"Bars on his window and everything. They were fun to pull off." he added as an afterthought.

"That's still not answering the question."

Ignoring her, he continued, "Then we stole his school stuff." Skippy snorted and drained the glass.

"Fun. Hey, you ever tried whisquila?"

Geoge raised an eyebrow. "That sounds illegal, or morally wrong at the very least."

"Well, probably. You put whiskey and tequila into a shot glass and hope you don't die of liver failure and-slash-or exploded heads. It's fun - you should try it."

He shook his head in exasperation as she reached for the bottle, missing it entirely. She pouted and rested her arms on each other in a drunken attempt at crossing her arms petulantly.

"It's getting late," he said as he noticed the clock flashing the words 'Do you plan on sleeping or what?' at the oblivious kitchen and it's inhabitants. "Are you crashing here or going back to your friend's?"

"Mmm, I'll borrow your sofa. Make it three people in a week." she hummed, slumping over the granite surface. "I like this song, who's it by?"

He strained his remaining ear to make sense of the unfamiliar bars of music before giving up. "No idea." He shrugged, swinging his stool around so he could hop onto his unsteady feet. Skippy followed, sliding sidways off the seat while leaning on the breakfast bar rather than standing with her full weight. She staggered across to George to sling one of her arms around his neck, using the other to stay upright as he swayed under their combined weight.

They shuffled forwards as one, until they reached the living room sofa, where Skippy fell face-first onto the cool leather. "G'nd nigh'." she called, the words muffled by the furniture. George, at the doorway, turned and smiled.

"Goodnight."

Skippy set down the biro with a flourish and straightened the significantly large pile of papers sat on the desk in front of her.

Class lists, lesson plans, specifications, copies of permission slips and reading lists, angry letters from parents regarding permission slips and reading lists - everything she would need for the year ahead was in her hands, neatly ordered and most importantly, completed. The door swung open with a loud thump behind her.

"Miss Hall!" a voice squeaked from the doorway of her office. "The staff meeting - it began 10 minutes ago!"

"Oh, I knew forgot something." she laughed airily. "I'll be along in a minute."

The much older - and shorter - professor shook his head impatiently. "We're not going to be fooled by that one again. Come along." Skippy sighed, but stood up, still clutching her paperwork.

"You're all no fun." she tutted, following the charms professor down the hallway. The staff-room was right at the end of the corridor. Skippy raised both eyebrows as Flitwick motioned for her to enter. "I needed to be escorted here? Really?"

"After what we are calling 'The Great Kitchen Incident', we are taking no chances." the headmistress answered frostily. "What's your excuse for being late this time?"

She deliberated before deciding to tell the truth. "Paperwork." She held up her 'baby', shaking it. "I swear, it breeds." A few teachers murmured in assent. McGonagall cleared her throat and Skippy took her seat quickly. 'Off the hook~' she smirked.

"Now, the students arrive tomorrow," the witch announced as Skippy tuned out.

It had been a week since they made her return to Hogwarts to prepare the classroom, draw up seating plans and the like (none of which she did, of course). Before then, she spent her days at Jessa's flat, at George's shop or on days she felt lucky, under Nat's desk in her office, occasionally drawing up lesson plans but more often than not distracting them. She never got round to moving off of George's sofa, as he could easily manouver around (or shrink) the bed, leading to less yelling and more sleeping.

Regarding her work, it took a while to persuade various higher-ups to agree to her ideas, but she won in the end with mostly-flawless logic and puppy-dog eyes. She felt a sliver of remorse for what she had planned for the kids, but it would be worth it in the end.

All in all, she was glad to be back in England with her friends, and wasn't actively resenting her new job (yet, she mentally added. She didn't hate her job yet.) So when an owl arrived with the order to 'get her arse to school', something Jessa joked that she hadn't heard since she was a teenager, Skippy was not a happy bunny. Not even a mildly satisfied bunny.

The Great Kitchen Incident, as it was dubbed by the rest of her colleagues, referred to the first few days of her stay at Hogwarts in which she 'got lost' and ended up living in the kitchens until the house-elves complained that she had drunk all of the wine. After that, the staff were divided on whether they thought Skippy was disgraceful or interesting. Of course, the latter, including Horage Slughorn, Rubeus Hagrid and surprisingly, Pomona Sprout, were outnumbered by the former.

To be honest, she didn't care what they thought, as if they weren't disapproving of her drinking, they'd be against her age or the fact that she was home-schooled instead of going to Hogwarts. It was less bother to use the map - she had to thank Harry for that - to avoid those she didn't want to talk to.

"Miss Hall... Miss Hall... Stephanie!"

"Huh, yeah, what?" she asked, broken out of her reverie.

"Pass along the staff meeting timetables." McGonagall inclined to the much lighter pile of papers sat next to her own.

"Oh, okay." she replied cheerfully, going back to a state of half listening, half off in a world of her own as she hopped the timetables to the other side of her paperwork, tempted to not place one on top of it.

Was the sorting ceremony supposed to be so boring?

To Skippy, all it seemed like was the short man calling the name of a terrified child, drowning its face in hat until the supposedly inanimate object shouts a nonsense word that will define them for the next seven years; repeat. Ad nauseum.

"Williams, Paige." Flitwick squeaked, prompting a tiny blonde to scurry to the smirking hat.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" it cried moments later. Still full of energy, the girl zoomed to the table that had broken out in weary applause. Finally; it was over.

Talking of hats, why couldn't wizards have hang-ups with top hats rather than the traditional pointed hats? she wondered, resisting the urge to re-adjust her headgear. True, not many can pull the top hat look off either, but it would be a damn sight more entertaining to watch a hundred top-hatted heads bobbing up and down as they tried not to fall asleep from the sheer boredom of the sorting ceremony.

Okay, maybe it wasn't that dull, but she could tell that many of the students woud agree that the affair took too long.

McGonagall stood up, agonisingly slowly.

"Welcome back to another year at Hogwarts," she began, the students half paying attention, half anticipating the feast ahead of them. Skippy tried to pay attention, but she was no stranger to start-of-year speeches, even though this was her first experience of one in the magical world; and there must be some differences. However, formality is boring no matter the circumstances and it's not like they hadn't heard it all before, whether from experience, family and friends or just plain common sense.

"As many of you will know, muggle studies has become a mandatory subject-" There was a muffled uproar, an instinctive reaction when free time is threatened. "Joining the faculty is professor Stephanie Hall," Skippy gave an absent-minded salute. "Who will be teaching the OWL and NEWT elective groups." Many of the older students shared looks of horror while a handful interspersed between them looked smug. Either the useless bat was hated by students as well as colleagues - well, colleague - or she was just. That. Awesome. Of course, she preferred the latter, but the former was the more likely reason.

Though, she wondered, would they change their minds when she revealed her plans?

The older witch finished her speech some time later. Though she was paying no attention at all, whatsoever, Skippy could tell by the split second gap of silence between a clang of dishes and a roar of chatter. The number of students was about the same as in her 6th form and she was hit by a wave of nostalgia for her group of friends sitting on the floor in a corner of the common room, yelling at each other to be heard over the crowds of rowdy teenagers. For claiming a space on the sofas as soon as somebody would stand. For teasing her friends for every stolen glance across the room at their crushes. For hiding every stolen glance across the room at her crush.

"Is everything alright, Stephanie?" Sprout asked, breaking her reverie. She shook the far-away smile and dazed look from her face.

"Yeah, just thinking" she reassured her, picking up her goblet filled with a deep red wine that she didn't remember pouring. Oh yeah - magic. She shrugged internally and took a sip. It was rather tasty. "This is rather tasty." Skippy announced, swilling the cup as classily as she could manage. Sprout's pleasant smile faltered slightly.

It was going to be a long night.

I kinda found reading over this again slightly painful, but hopefully it was good for a couple of laughs. THE FILLER IT BURNS?

Expect the next chapter... Any time. Well, as soon as I remember where I'm going with it (thank God I made some notes) and get time to actually type it. To be fair, I am doing the International Baccalaureate, so even my free time is not my free time. And when my free time is my free time, I'm usually too tired to do anything.

So, thoughts?