Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, not me.
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"I wonder who'll be our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year…" Hermione wondered. "The position seems to be cursed."
"I don't care who they picked, just let 'em announce it so I can eat!" Ron moaned. "I'm starving!" Harry laughed.
"Welcome back to Hogwarts!" Dumbledore boomed suddenly. The great hall fell silent. "After the events of the previous year, I am sure you are all ready for a regular school term, but I daresay nothing is ever regular at Hogwarts." He winked at Harry, who grinned back. It was good to have Dumbledore back. "I would like to introduce you to the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor…or rather, professors." A tiny girl with tawny-red hair stood up, beaming. She looked no older than nineteen. "This is Emmalina Schmeadling-Holland." The girl rolled her eyes and whispered something in Dumbledore's ear. "Ah, I see. Emelye Schmeadling-Holland. She, along with her husband Leverett, will be teaching the Defense Against the Dark Arts class." There was a smattering of polite applause. Emelye smiled again and sat down next to a young man with dark hair, apparently Leverett. "And now, the feast!"
"Finally!" Ron exclaimed.
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It was nearly an hour later when Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way up to the Gryffindor dorms. "I'm so full…I'm going to ruddyburst in a moment!" Ron moaned.
Hermione thumped him on the arm. "Well, with the way you eat, I'm not surprised," she retorted. "Applebaum." The Fat Lady's portrait swung open. "Honestly, Ron if you're not careful…"
Harry lost track of the conversation. A quick motion caught his eye. He looked over and saw a girl. She was dressed in a long silver cloak, with the hood shielding her face. The slender figure darted a swift glance at him, but all he could see of her was the soft curve of her cheek and her long eyelashes. He blinked, and she was gone.
"Har-ry," Hermione snapped. "Hurry up. The portrait's not going to stay open all night."
"Oh. Right," he said, and he stepped inside.
The girl ran swiftly down the stone hallway.
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The Gryffindor sixth-years milled about in the DADA classroom, waiting for Professor Schmeadling-Holland to show up. She had three minutes before class started.
"Harry, are you feeling all right?" Hermione asked.
He looked up. "I feel fine. Why do you ask?"
"You've been so quiet lately," she said. Her brown eyes were concerned. "Are you still thinking about-"
Harry was saved by a tiny figure in brilliant blue robes dashing into the room. "All right! I'm here, everyone!" Professor Schmeadling-Holland chirped. Her tawny hair was held by a ribbon in a half-back style that allowed her long locks bounce everywhere. "This castle is so big…it's a miracle I found my way here…" She beamed as she gazed around the class, until her eyes fell on Harry. He subconsciously flinched, waiting for the look of the recognition and the familiar swish of the eyes up to his scar. But Professor Schmeadling-Holland only smiled at him. He began to relax.
She perched on top of her desk, letting her short legs swing back and forth. "And before I start anything, I'd like you all to pleasecall me Emelye. Emmalina is a horrid name and Professor Schmeadling-Holland makes me sound so old."
Hermione was beginning to look exasperated with the flighty girl. She raised her hand and Emelye nodded to her. "I don't mean to be rude, but…what credentials do you have to teach this class?" she inquired.
"If that's not rude, I don't know what is," Ron whispered to Harry.
Emelye slid off the desk. "Well, Miss…"
"Granger. Hermione Granger."
"Well, Miss Granger, I suppose you're right to ask that question," Emelye sighed. "I am rather new at this teaching thing, but…if you doubt my experience with the Dark Arts, you are mistaken." She moved part of her robes aside, revealing a scabbard buckled around her waist. She unsheathed the sword. "Can anyone identify this?"
Hermione raised her hand, eyes wide. "It's an elf-sword," she said.
"Precisely," Emelye said.
"But those can only be used by people who are-"
"Elves?" the tiny teacher said, eyes sparkling. "Exactly, Miss Granger."
"Does that mean you're a-" Ron breathed.
"Believe whatever you like, Mr.-"
"Ron Weasley."
"I can only tell you that this is Clashclang," Emelye said, stroking her fingers lovingly along the flat of the scuffed blade. "He's a bit battered, but we've gone through a great deal together." She slid the sword back into the scabbard. "And now, if someone can tell me what you've learned previously in this class…"
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The students poured out of the classroom at the end of the lesson. "Well, that was certainly a surprise," Hermione said. "I barely expected her to know which end of the wand was up, but she's quite clever." She checked her watch. "Oh, I'll have to run. I can't be late for Arithmacy!"
"And I've got Muggle Studies," Ron said. He rolled his eyes. "Dad's making me take it, it's going to be such a bore…what about you, Harry?"
"Divination," he said dully. "I cannot believe it."
Hermione and Ron both winced in sympathy. "Sorry about that," Ron said. "We've got lunch next, though, we'll catch up to you then!" The two of them hurried off, leaving Harry to wander up to the tower alone. Now that Trelawney had been reinstated, it was sure to be just as boring as usual.
He was halfway there when he saw a boy sitting alone under a portrait. He was dressed in Hogwarts robes, with a shiny prefect's badge pinned to his front. His hair was red and looked sloppy. Harry blinked. Percy? he thought. But no, Percy graduated several years ago, and this boy's hair was a darker red. Besides, he looked shorter and thinner than Percy.
"Are you all right?" Harry ventured.
The boy gave him a sideways glance, got up with a lazy stretch, and sauntered down the hallway.
"Hey! I was talking to you!" Harry called.
The boy continued to lope down the hallway, and vanished.
Harry stood there for a while, until he realized he was going to be incredibly late for divinations.
He managed to sneak his way into the room without Trelawney noticing, but then he saw with a sinking heart that it was Double Divination. All the seats were filled- except for one in the corner, where a slender blonde was idly playing with a necklace of butterbeer corks. Harry edged his way over.
"Luna, can I sit with you?" he whispered. She nodded.
"Ah, welcome, welcome, my children," Trelawney the airy-fairy intoned. "I am happy to see you all returned to this place safe, as my inner-eye predicted…" Harry tuned her out. He was in no mood for prophecies and predictions. He turned to Luna instead.
"Why are you in a sixth-year class?" he whispered.
"I've been moved ahead in a few of my classes," she whispered back. "They thought I wasn't being challenged enough."
"What-"
"Mr. Potter!"
Harry started. The bug-eyed glasses were staring at him.
"Mr. Potter, share with us your most recent dream," Trelawney said.
He swallowed hard. "I dreamed I was in London, and I rode on one of those red buses," he fibbed.
Trelawney looked a bit disappointed. "Ah, I see what that means," she finally said. "Someday, our own Harry Potter will die, after being struck by a double-decker bus. The inner eye advises you avoid London." The goggle-eyed professor glided off to another student.
"Liar, liar," Luna singsonged quietly.
Harry glanced at her sharply. "What do you-"
She placed a cool hand on his arm. "Don't get so testy," she said. "I don't know what you were dreaming. I just know that it had nothing to do with buses." The gentle hand stayed on Harry's arm, and he knew she was remembering the veil in the Department of Mysteries.
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