The Potions Mistress
Chapter Seven: Professor
Once the situation at the Ministry calmed down sufficiently, I sat my NEWT examinations and passed them all with flying colors. I also submitted my research records and garment prototypes. After observing all post-war formalities, I left Britain for my old haunt in America. My parents had passed away and no one remembered me. I joined the faculty at the local Muggle university and taught beside Callista for five years. There I guided many young students into careers in Muggle medicine and life sciences, ever keeping my eyes open for any whiz-kids like I had once been.
One day I arrived home to find a letter from Britain waiting for me. Professor Snape, still Hogwarts Headmaster, wrote to offer me the post of Potions Mistress and Head of Slytherin House, upon Professor Slughorn's second retirement. Callista encouraged me to accept.
"Your dream was to follow in Severus's footsteps. You should finish it."
I suppose all my experiences mellowed me. I felt content with my life in America. Still I obligingly gave the offer due consideration, mulling the issue over until the week before final exams.
I stood looking at the wand I had not wielded in five years. I ran my fingers over it... nine and a half inches, mahogany with a core of unicorn hair: the wand of a Potions Mistress. I sent word of my acceptance to Professor Snape and made all the necessary arrangements for departure. Callista graciously agreed to cover my classes.
"It'll be a breeze thanks to your wonderful organization skills, dear. Why, nobody will even notice you've left at all!"
My cheeks flamed.
August found me back in Britain. Rebuilding had gone well, though there had been a palpable desire to restore everything to its former state. Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt was now Minister of Magic; hopefully he had the forethought to avoid past mistakes. I boarded the Hogwarts Express; it ran practically empty during summer holidays. Finally the towers and turrets of Hogwarts loomed in the distance, drawing nearer as a thestral-drawn carriage conveyed me toward the gate. Half-giant Rubeus Hagrid had rebuilt his famous hut, and there was a young boar hound puppy romping in the garden. Idly I wondered if his name was also Fang. My eyes sought out the areas of the castle I remembered seeing leveled during the final assault. Magic is truly a time saver for some things, although Muggle construction crews too can do a lot in five years. Magic had worked much faster in the Forbidden Forest, though the new growth was easily discernible to the trained eye. I drew a deep breath. There was no clichéd feeling of coming home, but it smelled nice. It would do.
Professor Snape met me at the entrance. Still tall, imposing, wearing his signature billowing black robes... but his skin had lost much of its sallow tint, and his hair flowed silken. His minute curl of a smile revealed sparkling white, though still crooked, teeth. He hadn't worked as Potions Master in five years either. Being headmaster suited him well.
"Professor Mellarn."
"Headmaster Snape."
"Welcome back to Hogwarts. I am honored you consented to return."
"That many dunderheads, headmaster?"
"You have no idea, Professor."
As both our eyes sparkled with mirth, I thought students should be very afraid.
The following years were simply brilliant. I can't remember enjoying myself more. I'm sure my students can attest that the female of the species truly is deadlier than the male. Many times I overheard laments concerning Professor Slughorn's retirement. Nevertheless, Potions, like the Muggle sciences, is no trifle, and professors must strive for their craft's respect.
I occupied those quarters so familiar from my apprentice days. I maintained the décor and furnishings spartan, but visitors remarked they could detect a certain female touch. I wore robes of the same austere design as the headmaster's, varying only their color among dark shades of blue, green, gray, purple and burgundy. I even indulged the fancy of having a few embroidered with serpent and dragon motifs. As a final touch, I wore my hair in a tight braid coiled around my head, often adding reptilian adornments to the ensemble.
My Slytherins were fond and proud of me, striving to please me without uncouthly currying or expecting my favor. The war had done away with most of the old prejudice, but high birth would always be treasured, as it is everywhere. I encouraged family loyalty tempered by critical thinking, and emphasized the need for choosing one's own path carefully. The old rivalries had mellowed except in Quidditch, where the matches would always be intense, hair-rising affairs, as they are worldwide.
My colleagues' old soft spot for me grew into true and honest respect and esteem. I became great friends with Minerva McGonagall, and we were always amused to witness student reactions upon spying the Heads of Slytherin and Gryffindor being so chummy. Nonetheless we both still felt proprietary about the House Cup.
My old friends were delighted to have me close, and they always visited when they came by our alma mater. Hermione Weasley made my quarters one of her regular haunts, as did Draco, who even invited me to his wedding. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy subsequently included me in their regular guest list for dinner at their manor, and Lucius so approved of my taste in fashion that he had a serpent cane like his old one made specially for me. My students' spooked stares the next few weeks were hilarious.
Two years elapsed before Harry Potter worked up the nerve to knock at my office door. Minerva had announced his visit and nudged him my way. Potter had finished growing and now walked with aplomb—at least until he met my eyes.
"Auror Potter. It is good to see you so well. Please, do sit. Can I offer you anything?"
He had the look of a deer caught in the headlights.
"Pumpkin juice is fine, thanks," he stammered.
I took my sweet time playing the hostess, unnerving him more and more.
"So, Auror Potter. May I inquire how are Madam Potter, young Mr. Potter and young Mr. Lupin?"
He gulped. "Fine, they're all doing excellent."
"That is most wonderful to hear, Auror."
Several moments of tense silence on his part later, Potter exploded.
"Marissa..."
"Professor Mellarn, Auror."
"That's ridiculous, we were..."
"Married, estranged, divorced, buried the son sired on me by Voldemort using your equipment, stood on opposite sides of the battlefield, haven't communicated at all in almost a decade, and now you waltz in here expecting to dispense with formalities of address. Now that's ridiculous, Potter."
He began sweating profusely.
"You still hate me?"
I snorted.
"It would be in keeping with tradition, wouldn't it?"
He jumped a foot in the air at my sneer, and I couldn't suppress raucous laughter.
"Oh, for Salazar's sake, Potter, calm down. Such agitation ill becomes a member of the Auror corps."
He tried to formulate a reply, failed, and stood there looking lost, like the boy he had been when we first met.
"Hate is too strong a word, Auror, and woefully inadequate. You are simply not an important person in my life, and as such do not merit any special concern. However, I bear you or yours no ill will, and shall endeavor to treat you as fairly as the situation demands, and as courteously as is humanly possible."
He nodded dumbly.
"I'm very sorry for everything... Professor."
"Sentiment noted, Auror. It changes nothing, though."
He looked around, desperately searching for a safe conversation topic. He noted the reptile habitat carved into one of the walls.
"Is that Uma?"
"No, Auror. Uma enjoyed the normal lifespan for her non-magical species and passed away three years ago. This is Lilith, a magical king—I should say, queen—cobra."
"May I..."
"Go ahead, Auror. She will be pleased to meet another Speaker."
I busied myself with grading while Potter and Lilith conversed. Looking up when he cleared his throat, I noticed his cheeks were flushed. Lilith had a habit of being brutally frank in her use of language; her name wasn't accidental.
"Can I help you, Auror?"
"It's just... Lilith is very, um..."
"Opinionated and prone to bouts of extremely colorful invective? Indeed. It takes a while to get used to it, but once you do it's most entertaining."
Potter's eyes bulged. He wiped his palms on his robes and made to leave.
"I think I should be going, Professor. Thanks for receiving me."
I grinned.
"You are welcome, Auror. Please do convey my regards to your family."
"I'll do that."
"Oh and, Auror?"
"Yes?"
"Feel free to visit Lilith in future, if you wish."
Potter blanched, mumbled a farewell and, predictably, bolted.
The headmaster found me still giggling when he came by two hours later. His own beetle black eyes danced.
"Need I ask, Professor?"
"I'm sure you don't, Headmaster."
We smirked at one another.
"True. The sight of a certain esteemed Auror exiting the castle as if a dragon were chasing him was exceedingly eloquent."
"Lilith," I pointed.
"Ah, of course. Did the Auror perchance mention that the Ministry has granted your requests?"
My eyes lit up.
"Is that so? What excellent news, thank you, Headmaster!"
"I've called a staff meeting in half an hour."
"I shall be there. May I offer you refreshments in the meantime?"
"That would be most appreciated, Professor. May I prevail upon you to facilitate a conversation with my lady Lilith?"
"Certainly. I daresay we shall all enjoy it."
My requests to the Ministry of Magic were revolutionary. The first was authorization to procure and raise a basilisk at Hogwarts. He or she would replace the one slain by three wizards' idiocy months before my first arrival in Europe. The new basilisk would dwell in the properly furnished habitat of Slytherin's Chamber. Lilith would act as surrogate mother.
I also requested the creation of a corps of Chamber Wardens. While slander became legend, it was much more logical that Slytherin had left his familiar as protection for his school. Undoubtedly Slytherin expected the threat would come from Muggle technology and superior numbers; his proposal of segregating Muggleborns was meant as a precaution. The other three Founders were staunch idealists; they probably deemed the pragmatic idea too pessimistic for their tastes and summarily vetoed it. The enduring prejudices of class and race did the rest.
Slytherin had been right. The irony was the threat had come partially from within. Yet who could pinpoint from where the next threat would arise? Hogwarts needed both its protector and strict safeguards against misuse. The Chamber Wardens working hand in hand with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement were an answer. Teamwork between the school and the Ministry could prevent, or at least decrease the likelihood, of another war. It was a challenge well worth it.
My initiative was successful in the long run. It helped to have a Slytherin as headmaster, and also that Auror Potter never quite overcame his guilty conscience, and thereby remembered his lesson. Moreover, prejudice against Parseltongue waned as perfectly sane witches and wizards remained so after mastering the serpent language. The Chamber habitat was a herpetologist's jungle paradise at which every incoming first year was required to camp out, that Pallas the basilisk may know her human nestlings.
Eventually Parseltongue became part of the NEWT level Defense Against the Dark Arts curriculum. That subject was no longer the responsibility of a single person, but team-taught by all faculty members. The extracurricular Dueling Club equaled Quidditch in popularity and surpassed the sport in active participation. I could not ask for more.
I received much more, however. Apprentices sought me out as Mistress, some even more industrious that I remembered being. Though I threw everything I had at them, even the less gifted soldiered on, making me and our craft proud. Noteworthy among their achievements was a total cure for lycanthropy in its early stages and a partial cure for the advanced condition that limited transformation to a hybrid form and suppressed change pains. My former apprentices also made advancements in the treatment and prevention of many other magical injuries and maladies. St. Mungo's Hospital was rated among the best of the Wizarding world after the inclusion of the Stillsuit among its technology. I had the poignant honor of seeing others achieve what I personally could not, whether they were expecting witches at high risk or victims of critical injury. Someone even contrived to name a ward in my honor. Then the Skinsuit and its derivatives became standard issue gear for Magical Law Enforcement personnel, making me something of a patron saint to Aurors. I found all this embarrassing to no end. I had no designs on such extravagant accolades.
I taught Potions to the children of the war generation. Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy and Albus Severus Potter were Sorted into my House, therefore gaining me as a parental figure for seven years. It became an endless source of mirth to my close friends, a strange little group soon joined by Ginevra Potter and Astoria Malfoy. Neville Longbottom became my colleague, and I shall never forget how he broke the ice at a staff meeting by praising the strength of my arm. Neville and I worked very closely, each tailoring our curricula to bolster and build upon the other's. We also teamed up for our Defense sessions, and routinely staged demonstrations for the Dueling Club, punches pulled out of courtesy.
One day I found a copy of one of those popular Wizarding history publications on my desk. I thumbed through it until I reached a bookmarked page. It spoke of the greatest Potions Masters in history, and as my eyes followed down the article I assumed the most praised would be Headmaster Snape. I did a double take, pinched myself and grappled for a while with sheer incredulity. Not only did my own face smirk at me from the page, but also, at the end of the biographical blurb, Headmaster Snape was quoted... stating I had surpassed him.
I had not broken down since the war. How long had it been? I was fourteen when I followed Callista to Europe. I was nineteen at war's end. I became Hogwarts Potions Mistress at twenty-five. Now my fiftieth birthday was around the corner. It took me thirty-six years to fulfill my life's dream... and go beyond it. Headmaster Snape doled out praise rarely, and never so expansively; therefore it was true. I had to believe it. Oh, but it was so hard!
The article was the first of my birthday gifts. The party itself was a lavish affair, and as I listened to the speeches, I realized those gathered in my name were actually celebrating themselves. Without each and everyone of them, my dream would never have come true. Callista's words washed over me like a balm. Professor Flitwick nearly made me weep when he did as he granted me Mastery in Charms for my work on the Stillsuit and Skinsuit. Headmaster Snape shocked the audience with his openness, leaving more than a few downright catatonic when his silky baritone shone with honest notes of praise, admiration and affection. Then he called me his Philosopher's Stone and presented me with an Order of Merlin First Class. My heart fluttered and my blood became liquid flame, and it was as if I had suddenly mastered the Animagus transformation. That night my soul was a phoenix—an Augury, for I was never fond of garish hues—and when I finally regained the power of speech all I could say was "Thank you," over and over again.
