The Interviewee Who Lied

AN – I'm so excited to finally introduce my OC, Neasa, because she's honestly one of my favourite characters I've ever written. Bear with me for this chapter because there is still groundwork to lay.

0o0o0o

JULY 1995

On a hot, sunny day – which held no clouds in the sky – a witch with black hair, short heels, and a travelling cloak draped over her arm appeared in Hogsmeade High Street, clutching a chipped coffee mug. She shrunk and pocketed the Portkey and made her way to the Hogwarts castle, holding her hand above her head in a vain attempt to keep the sun from burning her.

In her other hand Neasa Casey held a folded newspaper clipping which showed an advert for the position of school secretary at Hogwarts. Applicants should owl their CV in advance and present themselves at the castle on July 28th at midday.

Neasa simply had to apply as soon as she'd seen the advert – much to the confusion of her mother, who, on hearing her second daughter wanted to work abroad, had made it clear to Neasa how she felt about it all.

"I can't understand why you have to go away," she'd said, with her heavy Derry accent. "What's wrong with Dublin?"

"There's nothing wrong with Dublin," Neasa had replied, her own accent a strange balance between north and south.

They'd had this conversation at the reception of her sister Bess's wedding to a half-blood wizard, when Neasa had told her parents of her intentions to work in Scotland. Her father raised no objection except to nod and hum at what her mother was saying.

"Why are you going?" her mother asked, leaning forward a little.

"I can't tell you – I'm sorry," Neasa said – and it was the truth. Her family had been through hell and back – and that made them close, but there were some things her parents just couldn't know about her life.

"Is it… anything dangerous?" her mother asked. When Neasa frowned in confusion, she added, "I mean – I know I'm not really up to date with what happens in your world–" (her parents were both Muggles) "–but Bess has said things – about – that Dark wizard – you know the one… some people are saying he's returned… Do you believe them?"

"I do," Neasa said simply. Her mother looked away, her eyes falling on Bess dancing with her husband. She sighed wistfully.

Neasa could feel it coming – The Question. A question her mother asked every time Neasa was single. It was forever the same one – "Are you seeing anyone?" – but it was always phrased differently: "Have you been out recently?" – "Is there anyone in your life at the moment?" – "Is there anything you want to tell me?"

The Question was always preceded by a solid two minutes of fiddling with the clasp on her handbag, checking the time on her watch, sighing wistfully a couple of times, and glancing meaningfully at Neasa's father for support. Once her mother had completed all of these steps – in under a minute and a half – she looked intently at Neasa and asked delicately, "Are you happy?"

This was a new variation on The Question Neasa hadn't heard before.

"I'm fine," she replied gently.

"What happened to John?"

"Snake allergy."

Her mother gave her a scolding look, and Neasa said defensively, "I couldn't get rid of Athrea!"

"Well, if you ask me a relationship is all about compromise," her mother said. "Look at Bess – she swore she'd never marry a banker. You're thirty-five. You can't leave it forever."

Neasa didn't reply – she was used to this nagging and it didn't bother her as much as it once did. Even so, it niggled at her: should she have given Athrea away for John? Who chooses a pet snake over a man who irons his own shirts?

A moment later she heard her mother sigh again, saw her gaze settling on Bess once more, now dancing a slow dance with her new husband at the far end of the ballroom.

"Siobhán would have loved that dress," her mother said softly. Neasa's father finally seemed to come back to earth and turned to his wife, concern in his eyes.

Neasa's mother looked at him and said, "It's that time of year."

Her father looked over the top of her mother's head at their newlywed third daughter, who was sharing a laugh with her husband and another dancing couple. Neasa took a large mouthful of white wine.

Her mother glanced at her and said, "Visit Siobhán before you go. She'd like that."

Neasa was approaching the tall iron gates of Hogwarts, pulling her from her reverie. Just inside the gates was a staff member – a tall, thin man who wore robes of all black with sleeves that finished past his wrists. He was lazily fanning himself with a slip of parchment.

As Neasa drew closer the man looked up from the ground and, after a glance at the parchment, asked in a monotone, "Neasa Casey?"

"Neasa Casey," said Neasa.

"Excellent," the man said, tapping his black wand on the gates, which unlocked. Neasa stepped past and waited for him to lock them again. "I'm Professor Snape – I'll be on the panel," he added.

He silently led the way to the castle, Neasa falling into step beside him. Professor Snape had messy black hair a little shorter than Neasa's and obsidian eyes, contrasting his pale skin. He walked with purpose, so Neasa copied him.

Her eyes scanned the surroundings: behind them, a large black forest with enormously high trees; ahead, the castle, with towers so tall they seemed to scrape the sky. She spotted in the distance a small hut, jut big enough for one person to live in, and a black dog panting outside the door.

"What do you teach?" Neasa asked to fill the silence.

"Potions," said Professor Snape.

"I was never good at Potions – I was always one for History of Magic."

"Can't imagine why."

"Sorry?"

The Professor glanced at Neasa. "I've never heard anyone who went through Professor Binn's classes say they enjoyed History – not to say anything negative about a colleague, but…"

Neasa smiled. "I didn't go to Hogwarts."

"Beauxbatons?"

"Bríd," said Neasa. "The Irish school of magic."

"Bríd," Professor Snape echoed quietly. "Yes, I've heard of it. Is it a good school?"

"It's a great one."

"Where's your accent from?"

"Derry – in the North of Ireland."

"You mean Londonderry?"

"They're the same place," Neasa replied stiffly. "I'm in Dublin City now."

0o0o

Professor Snape had asked Neasa to take a seat in a corridor just off the Entrance Hall, on a row of chairs where three other candidates were sat – two women and one man. The Professor called them through in turn – Neasa was second from last.

She followed him into an empty classroom, where the three-person panel sat at a long table with a single chair in front of them. Neasa recognised Albus Dumbledore sitting in the middle, with Professor Snape on his right and a witch in tartan robes on his left. She shook their hands in turn and claimed the single chair, her cloak folded on her lap.

With the introductions over with, Dumbledore got straight to the point: "Could you tell us what made you apply for the job?" he asked. The witch to his left – Professor McGonagall – was poised to take notes.

"I believe I would be well-qualified," Neasa began confidently. "I've worked as a secretary in the Irish magical school for the last five years, and before that I worked with the Irish Ministry of Magic too."

This was a lie.

"Yes, you have some excellent references," Dumbledore said. "Please continue."

The references were falsified.

"I applied for the job because of the experience I have, and the experience I will gain. But I'm also a very organised and punctual person – and I'm used to secretarial office work."

This wasn't true.

"Have you worked in Britain before?"

"No – this would be my first time working abroad," Neasa fibbed.

"How would your colleagues at your previous workplace describe you?" Professor McGonagall asked. She had a prim, Scottish accent.

"I think – I hope – they would say I'm committed, and confident, and approachable," Neasa said with a smile, emphasising the point. "I'm a good leader – even though that isn't required of me in the job – so I think they would say that, too."

"May we have an example of your leadership skills?" Professor Snape asked. Neasa hadn't prepared for this question.

"I… well, I captained my House Quidditch team for three years when I was at school and we won for all of those three years," she calmly replied.

"So you work well on a team?"

"I do – I work best with other people," she said simply; the Professor only nodded.

"What are your own interests?" Professor McGonagall asked. "It says on your application you excelled in Muggle Studies and History of Magic."

"Yes – I don't believe in mixing the wizarding and Muggle worlds, but I do value learning about Muggle society, having grown up as one. And History of Magic was my favourite subject in school – so I hope to pursue it further. I would like to teach in History one day."

This was very untrue.

0o0o0o

It hadn't taken long for Albus and Minerva to decide which candidate best suited the job: one could hardly hold a quill, one had a terrible reference, one was quite simply incompetent – and the last one was Neasa Casey.

Severus didn't waste much breath on what he thought of the candidates – but Casey remained on his mind long after he'd escorted her from the grounds. Where the other candidates had been nervous in Albus's presence, Casey had firmly shaken his hand; when the others stuttered and stammered under Minerva's piercing eyes, Casey had smiled confidently.

Severus wondered absently why she was still a secretary in her thirties when she could so easily be a Professor. Why did she want to leave Dublin? Why did she omit the 'London' in Londonderry?

In the evening Severus felt his Mark burn, and he could guess the reason why: he first told Albus where he was going and then Disapparated to the Riddle ancestral home, where the Death Eater meetings were being held.

His cloak whipped up dust on the stairs as he made his way to the drawing room, where he knew he'd find Voldemort waiting – having seen no others arriving he guessed he'd been summoned alone. The door was open when he got there; Voldemort was standing by a window, gazing out over the grounds.

Severus knocked and inclined his head; Voldemort glanced at him.

"My Lord."

"Take a seat, Severus," Voldemort motioned to two armchairs in front of an unlit fireplace, "make yourself at home."

Severus knew better than to do that, so he claimed the chair facing Voldemort, who remained by the window.

"I believe Dumbledore held a number of interviews today for an addition to his staff," Voldemort said. "What decision has he made?"

"He's chosen an Irish witch for the job – her name is Neasa Casey and she is– well– he thinks her well-qualified, My Lord."

"What do you think?"

"She is intelligent – she will make a decent secretary – however, she will be of no use to us: one of her keenest interests is Muggle Studies."

Voldemort cursed under his breath; they were low on numbers and he was looking to recruit just about anyone.

"Is she Muggleborn?" he asked.

"I don't know, My Lord," Severus lied.

"It matters not," Voldemort said bitterly. "If she is a Muggle lover she would never join our ranks."

"Even if she is of no use, I don't believe her to be any obstacle either. I know nothing of her politics but I don't think she would join the Order of the Phoenix or fight on Dumbledore's side – she appears too… weak-minded. My Lord."

Severus knew it was a lie; Casey was anything but weak-minded. He had only met her twice but he admired her; she had a quiet confidence about her, a gentle nature, and she was clearly intelligent – but he pushed that to the back of his mind. He didn't want to risk distractions when employing Occlumency, not when the lives of innocent people were in question.

Voldemort contemplated Severus's last words for a few moments, tapping his long nails on the windowsill, and then said at last, "Has Dumbledore found a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?"

Severus cringed as he retold everything he knew about Dolores Umbridge.

0o0o0o

A cold, windy Monday afternoon found Severus, one again, being told to escort Casey into Hogwarts so she could meet with Albus and get to know the castle. He was only waiting by the gates for a minute before Casey approached from up the lane, her clothes and hair soaking wet.

"Travel well?" he asked ironically, unlocking the gates.

"Just fine," she said bluntly, stepping past him.

Severus showed her the spell to unlock the gates – one Albus had invented himself – and after a bit of practice she was able to perform it wordlessly.

They walked to the castle in silence, but Severus couldn't stop asking himself why Casey's cloak was dripping wet; finally, his curiosity got the better of him, and he asked, "Why – may I ask, Miss Casey – it's a sunny day, so why do you look like you've fallen into a lake?"

"Oh," Casey said, sounding fed up, "my Portkey was destined for Hogsmeade High Street but I actually landed directly under a fountain – and – well…" she motioned to her soaked clothes with a resigned look, and, for the first time in many weeks, Severus laughed out loud.

Casey glared at him at first, which only served to make him laugh more, but as they approached the school a smile crept onto her blue lips and she chuckled softly.

"I guess it is sort of amusing," she said.

When they were at the griffin statue Severus explained about the changing passwords and the moving staircase – then at last they were inside the Headmaster's office, where Albus sat behind his desk. A new desk had been set up for Casey just in front of a bookshelf – there was a small wooden block on it with her name engraved into it, as well as an inkpot and some quills.

"Severus," Albus said, just when Severus was turning to leave, "won't you stay? I have a matter to discuss with you once Neasa and I are finished. Take a seat."

Albus waved his wand and a second chair appeared in front of his desk; Severus sat next to Casey, who took off her wet travelling cloak.

"Bad weather in Dublin?" Albus asked cheerfully.

"My Portkey landed me under a fountain," Casey explained.

"Dear me – Severus – would you put Neasa's cloak by the fire?"

Albus looked expectantly at Severus, who was tired of being given orders but didn't fail to notice the shiver in Casey's voice from the cold. He took her cloak and went to light the fire, leaving the cloak – which held a soft scent of perfume – levitating by the flames.

When he returned Casey was flicking through the famous staff rulebook, and Albus was saying, "I must warn you – the rules change place each time you open and close the book."

It was annoying, but secretly Severus found it quite amusing. He watched as Casey opened the book to a random page and read over her shoulder:

Section VII

–Any injury inflicted accidentally or otherwise on a staff member, by a student, is to be dealt with directly by the Headmaster.

–The student's punishment shall be decided by the injured staff member. At a minimum, the student shall receive a long period of detention and a letter to inform his/her parents.

–If a Prefect, they shall have their Prefect badge revoked.

Casey closed and opened the book again, to the same page, and read,

Section IX–The breeding or housing of forbidden or dangerous magical creatures by staff members is prohibited under all circumstances.

Casey looked up. "How are you supposed to–?"

"With great difficulty," Albus said, smiling.

Severus noticed that Casey's hands were very slightly purple, and he found himself making three cups of hot tea and offering her one – out of pity, he told himself.

Casey accepted it with a grateful smile, which Severus returned; then he said, rather pointlessly, "I work in the coldest part of the castle."

Casey blinked, her eyes a soft hazel. "And?"

"I mean… well, tea helps."

He pointed hopefully to his own cup of tea.

"Ah," Casey said, with a nod. "I see."

Severus awkwardly cleared his throat. Casey smiled at him again, and he hid behind his cup, deciding to keep his mouth shut. Clearly the fatigue was really getting to him.

Albus and Casey continued chatting and Severus remained as a bored witness – or at least he was bored at first, but then he found that he couldn't stop listening to their conversation – or, more accurately, Casey's Londonderry accent. He'd never met anyone from that part of Ireland before – every sentence she spoke sounded like a question and she used words he'd never heard before.

Even long after she'd left, he couldn't get the sound of her voice out of his head.

0o0o0o

AN - obv I had to make up an Irish school of magic for Neasa to attend since it wouldn't be true to her character if she went to Hogwarts. The Irish Ministry of Magic is another thing I've had to invent, I'm pretty sure that in canon the British Ministry has responsibility for Ireland too.