The world of Harry Potter does not belong to me. There are some parts of this story that are taken directly from the source. If you recognize it, it's not mine.
Many, many thanks to my beta YellowAsphodel.
If you have any negative comments, keep them to yourself. Or as my grandma used to say, "If you can't say anything nice, keep your mouth shut!" Constructive criticism can be directed via PM.
Broken
Chapter 14
January 5, 1996
The house elves had set forth a feast of epic proportions for the return of Hogwarts' staff. Dumbledore sighed and gazed around at his staff. They were just finishing dessert and waiting patiently for the meeting to begin.
Filch, finishing quickly, stood abruptly. "If it's all right with you, Headmaster," he addressed Dumbledore, "I'll begin my inspection of the castle and grounds."
Albus Dumbledore swallowed a bit of toffee pudding and wiped his mouth. "Of course, Mr. Filch," he replied pleasantly. "Oh, would you be on the lookout for Mr. Potter? I've asked him to come see me. We've several things to discuss."
"As you wish, Headmaster," Filch answered respectfully and closed the staff room door behind him as he left.
"Good evening," he said with a smile. "I hope you all had a pleasant Christmas holiday and are well-rested."
Nods and murmurs answered him.
"Good," he continued, "If everyone is finished?" He paused, and when he was sure his staff was done, he called for the house elves to clear the table. Forcing another smile, he began his opening speech. "I'll just catch you up on a few quick items, then we'll break so you can get resettled in your rooms."
A rather loud belch escaped Hagrid's control at that moment. "Uh, sorry about that," he said with a blush.
Good-natured chuckles rang the room. "Not at all, Rubeus," the Headmaster said with a smile.
Severus stiffened in his seat and stood up quickly. Without a word to anyone, only a brisk nod towards Dumbledore, he quickly left the room.
"Rude," Septima Vector muttered under her breath. "I wonder about his loyalties."
"I always have," Black murmured back as he scooted his chair closer to her.
"Minerva," Dumbledore said softly, "would you be so kind as to conduct the rest of the meeting?" He slowly stood from his chair and moved to the window, his back to the room. His blue eyes lost their sparkle and filled with utter sadness as he watched a lonely, black clad figure running towards the forbidden forest.
Severus stood for a moment just outside of the forest's edge and bent over to catch his breath. A fraction of a second more and he'd straightened up, rolled his sleeve back, and pressed his wand to the throbbing Dark Mark. In a flash, the poor boy was gone, snatched away by Tom Riddle.
The staff room door creaked open a crack, and Argus Filch shoved his head inside. "I caught this fellow snooping around the front gate," he whined. The caretaker opened the door a bit more, revealing a shadowy presence, which he pushed forward. "In you go!"
"It must be young Mr. Potter," Slughorn gushed. "Charming fellow, you know."
"Oh, my!" Pomona Sprout exclaimed under her breath as her jaw dropped.
"Bloody hell!" Rolanda Hooch muttered, her eyes nearly bugging out.
"Hot damn!" Septima Vector whispered sotto voce. "Aurora, would you look at that." She nudged her friend in the ribs.
"Yippee ki yay!" Aurora Sinistra, her eyes rapidly flickering up and down the stranger, muttered back to Vector.
"Have mercy!" Irma Pince murmured as she pressed her hand to her heart.
"Sweet Merlin!" Minerva McGonagal gasped aloud.
"Uh, no, ma'am," came a man's voice. It was a deep Southern bass, and his words poured over the room like whiskey into a tumbler. The tall young man, all six feet four inches of him, ducked his head respectfully and doffed a black Stetson.
He had dark obsidian eyes that danced with merriment. His coal black hair, swept back from his forehead, curled around the collar of his wrinkled white button-down shirt. The shirt fit him well and was tucked into a pair of well-worn blue jeans. They hung on trim hips and were secured by a wide, black leather belt, embossed with ravens.
A grin presented them with the sight of perfect, straight white teeth which gleamed from a sun-tanned face. A strong jaw with a Roman nose gave the face a tough, no-nonsense look, a face that could bring fear to those around it especially with the cheeks covered in a few days' worth of stubble. But his smile showed dimples on either side of his mouth, giving way to a boyish look.
He patted his hat against his long blue jean encased leg, tugged on his blue jean jacket, and wiped his dragon hide cowboy boots carefully on Filch's rug before he stepped into the room. "The name's Merle."
All blood drained from Poppy Pomfrey's face, and the room wavered in and out of focus as the table reached up and pulled her down.
"Poppy!" Pomona Sprout cried out.
Dumbledore wheeled around in time to see Horace set the medi-witch back up-right in her chair. His eyes then focused on the tall stranger, whose entrance had apparently caused the disruption. "Amazing!" the Headmaster said. He moved blindly towards his seat, his eyes trained upon the newcomer.
"Here, Hagrid," Slughorn urged, standing up with a grunt. "Help me hold her up. That's right." He pulled out a vial. "Some simple smelling salts ought to bring her round."
"At her age, common sense should have prevented the problem to begin with. Unfortunately, the malady seems to be a contagious," mumbled Sirius glaring at Septima Vector. Only Pomona Sprout and Irma Pince looked repentant. The other women around the table only glared at Black.
Poppy Pomfrey, pale faced and visibly shaken, came round. "Thank you, Horace," she murmured.
Slughorn, retrieving his smelling salts, handed her a glass of water. "Any time, my dear," he teased her with a smile, "I don't mind one bit having a lovely, younger woman swoon in my arms."
"Are you Merlin Harper?" Dumbledore asked. There was an undertone of uncertainty in his authoritative voice. He stood, hands gripping the back of his chair.
"Merle Harper, sir," the younger wizard stressed his first name. He seemed rather self-conscious of the women's reactions. "My parents liked country music, Merle Haggard in particular."
"Merle," Dumbledore tried out the name. "Please be seated then, Mr. Harper." He gestured, offhandedly conjuring a chair with wordless, wandless magic. "You'll have to pardon us, my boy," he said with a slight chuckle, "if we seem to be staring." He moved around to sit down. "You bear an amazing resemblance to our potions professor."
Harper seated himself, setting his hat on the table in front of him. "You mean Master Snape?" he asked curiously. A slight frown line formed between his eyes. He cast a curious look at the men at the table.
"Severus isn't here at the moment," Dumbledore explained. "Perhaps we should show our good manners and introduce ourselves. I'm Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster."
Merle stood up and reached across the table to shake hands enthusiastically. "I'm honored, sir," he gushed. "Honored. I've heard many amazing things about you, sir. Why, back home, you're required reading."
Blue eyes flew open in amazement behind half-moon spectacles. "I'm, I'm astounded," Dumbledore stammered. "I'm afraid I must reassess your qualifications if that's the poor type of education you get in the Colonies." He laughed.
The answering grin nearly blinded them. "Yes, sir," Merle said as he sat back down.
"Oh, Albus, stop teasing him," McGonagall said with a smile. "Mr. Harper, I suppose you've met Mr. Filch, our caretaker. He's the gentleman who led you in. I'm Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress, Head of Gryffindor house, and professor of transfiguration."
Harper dipped his head respectfully. "Ma'am."
Minerva's face reddened, and she pressed her hand to her chest with a girlish giggle. "Oh, dear," she said, flustered, "I'm very flattered, young man, but I'm no queen."
"Ma'am?" the young man asked. Puzzlement clouded his dark eyes. "I'm afraid I don't understand."
"I think I can translate. Filius Flitwick, by the way," the small man said as he reached to shake hands with Harper, "Head of Ravenclaw and professor of charms." He smiled. "You see, Mr. Harper," he stated, shifting into his lecturing mode, "in the UK, one only addresses the Queen as 'ma'am,' and so it seems a bit -"
"Oh, no, ma'am," Harper blurted, a fierce blush rising on his features, "I meant no disrespect. Down in Texas, we're taught to use the titles 'ma'am' and 'sir' to show respect." He swallowed. "If it bothers you, I'll do my best to curb the habit, but it's gonna be hard."
"I don't think it will be a problem, Mr. Harper," Dumbledore told the young man, "now that Filius has straightened us all out."
The younger wizard sighed in relief. "Yes, sir, thank you," he told Dumbledore before he turned to Filius and added, "It's nice to meet you, Professor Flitwick, sir."
"Rolanda Hooch," the flying instructor introduced herself. "I teach flying and referee quidditch."
"Ma'- " he stopped himself with a grin. "Professor Hooch."
"Rubeus Hagrid," the big man boomed, "I teach care of magical creatures."
"Professor Hagrid," Harper repeated. He shook hands with Hagrid and nodded politely to Hooch.
"I'm Pomona Sprout," the next teacher at the table said with a laugh. "I'm head of Hufflepuff house. We'll have to get you sorted, won't we, Minerva?" She laughed again. "I teach herbology, and I can't wait to pick your brain."
"Ma'am," he drawled back, teasing the older witch. She cackled with delight.
Sitting up tall in her seat, Irma Pince smiled. "I'm Irma Pince, the librarian. If you need any help, just ask."
"Ma'am, um, Madam Pince," he said with a nod.
"I'm Aurora Sinistra, but please call me Aurora," the Slytherin said in a decidedly flirtatious tone. "I teach astronomy. This is my colleague S -"
"Septima," her friend put in, "Septima Vector. I teach arithmancy. It's nice to meet you, Merle. I may call you Merle?"
He grinned at the ladies. "Miss Aurora, Miss Septima," he replied politely, dragging out his Southern drawl flirtatiously. "Of course you can call me Merle." He looked around the room. "In fact, I'd just as soon go by my first name with y'all. Mr. Harper is my daddy's name."
"Remus Lupin," the werewolf introduced himself. "I'll be teaching divination this year. By Jove, you look -" He stopped and shook his head, then reached out to shake hands.
"I'm Sirius Black," Black interrupted. "I've got history of magic." He held out his hand.
Mr. Lupin, Mr. Black," the younger wizard said solemnly. "I'm pleased to make your acquaintance."
"Horace Slughorn," the portly wizard declared. He reached forward with a soft grunt to shake hands. "I'll be teaching potions this year, so I suppose you'll be working with me too." He laughed, his belly shaking. "In fact, I taught Severus when he was a boy. I'm very proud of him, you see, surpassing his old teacher like he did and obtaining Mastery." He paused. "It's absolutely remarkable how much you look like him. Isn't it, Poppy?"
Ashen faced, Poppy nod absently. "You're the very image of Severus. It's rather uncanny," she murmured. Surely it couldn't be! She continued to stare at Harper.
"This is Poppy Pomfrey our school matron and medi-witch," Slughorn explained. "I can't imagine why she's forgotten to introduce herself." He chuckled.
The staff room door creaked open, and Argus Filch stuck his head in the door. "Here's the Potter boy, Headmaster," he grumbled. "You want he should wait here or in your office?"
"Please have him wait in my office, Mr. Filch," Dumbledore replied. "All right, that should be enough for tonight. Minerva, would you show Professor Harper to his rooms? We'll meet for breakfast in the morning in the Great Hall. Good night."