long time no see!

this chapter is longer than the last one to compensate for my lack of updates lol

hope you like it, have a nice life

-alph

Albus is confused.

Albus is confused?

Albus is CONFUSED?!

Oh, Merlin's beard!

The headmaster discretely calms himself with several deep breaths, a mental picture of a sherbet lemon, and a quick spell to rejuvenate the colour back into his cheeks. He has appearances to keep up you see.

You really can't blame him – this is all very new to him – the confusion and all. It's a very foreign feeling…its as if…he doesn't know everything?!

It's terrifying. Its horrifying. Its petrifying.

Albus decides very quickly he doesn't like this new emotion.

The source of this harrowing confusion you may ask?

Malcolm

Emrys.

After Malcolm had left his office after their little discussion on his history-teaching position, Albus was left to seriously question his own sanity.

Perhaps he had been a bit desperate for a history teacher.

And perhaps he had been quite impulsive in hiring this man.

But there was just something about the guy, that made Albus instinctively trust him – maybe more so than any other teachers he had hired before.

But really, hiring a mud-splattered gangly man with extremely weird and powerful magic who basically admitted his name wasn't even Malcolm?

And Albus's so called 'trust instincts' haven't been the most reliable recently, if past events are anything to go by.

Hey, it's not my fault Voldemort had resorted to growing in the back of other teachers' heads!

Albus had subtly observed Malcolm Emrys ever since he arrived in the Great Hall for the first years' sorting (a little bit later than perhaps required, but Albus was willing to let it go for now). Malcolm had proceeded to devour the grapes in front of him, wave at random students, and cheerfully attempt small talk with Severus. A brave or stupid move, Albus couldn't tell.

But then, Malcolm's bright demeanour had changed abruptly. His eyes had widened comically, and was suddenly the embodiment of I-am-going-to-disintegrate-the-entirety-of-hogwarts-with-a-twitch-of-my-left-eye-because-my-life-is-a-pile-of-shit.

But of course, Albus had nothing to worry about – no-one could be that powerful, right? Right? Right?!

Albus had followed Malcolm's flabbergasted gaze, and realised with a bout of perplexity, that it had landed on Aithusa Whitesun, the new transfer student. Now, this was a great factor in Albus's increasing confusion. What in Merlin's name had Aithusa done to offend Malcolm? Miss Whitesun had seemed to be the perfect model student – polite and charming. She had applied to be a Hogwarts student with complete sensibility and finesse, almost as if she had one it before.

But of course, that is impossible. She is only 16, and Albus has never seen her before in his life.

As Aithusa walked over to the stool, she tripped slightly, then fixated a glare on Malcolm.

Malcolm looked smug.

Interesting.

Minerva placed the sorting hat on Aithusa's head, and within seconds, Aithusa had rolled her eyes, annoyance trickled into her features.

Albus was shocked – what happened to the polite, easy-going student?

And his shock continued to bubble over when he snuck a glance at Malcolm, who was staring at the sorting hat, almost in a trance of concentration. There was a flicker of amusement within those deep blue irises.

Then when Miss Whitesuns's sorting passed the 5-minute mark, the students started to become restless – the airy hum of whispering and shuffling started to foam up in multiple pockets of the room.

Albus made a quieting gesture with his right hand.

The room fell silent.

All eyes pinned to the transfer student on the stool.

She is a rather intriguing student if appearances are anything to go by. Her marble skin is sculpted into dramatic curves that seem powerful at first glance, then almost troublesome the next. Her face is pale – so pale – as if one has painted her with a single wash of white paint, only dipping the brush in rosy-red when it came to the tip of her nose. She is skeletal, but not unhealthily so, but it makes her eyes stick out like jewels – two alice-blue irises – almost too bright to be human.

"SLYTHERIN!" Shouted the hat.

Albus sighed. He really thought she had Gryffindor potential.

After the applause, he stood up, announcing "It is my painful duty to inform you that the inter-house Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

The room exploded with complaints.

"This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy - but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely."

The protests stopped, and chins lifted up, curious.

And as Albus begun his speech about the Triwizard Tournament, he never noticed a warlock kidnap a dragon and leave the room.

"You know, sometimes you really are the bane of my existence. Thought I would do a nice little teaching, nice little students. Everything was going perfectly smoothly until a certain albino crocodile decided to get enrolled into Hogwarts!" the warlock said, exasperation tinged within his golden eyes.

"But no," He continued, glaring at said 'albino crocodile', "we don't care about Merlin's mental health, so we decide to ruin his teaching career!" He said in a high-pitched voice.

"-don't you think that's a bit dramati-"

"Did I say you can speak? No. Now, give me your word that you will not get all of your chummy dragon friends to turn into human students just so you can protest for dragon rights...again."

"...b-but - Merly!"

Said 'Merly' determinedly looked away from her bright puppy eyes.

I must not give in. I will NOT give in.

"FINE, Mr kill-joy, fine. Have it your way then." At Merlin's disbelieving eyebrow she added adamantly "I won't – I swear!"

A pause.

Then a nod.

Then the opening of a door.

"WAIT! Merlin don't leave me hanging here!" Aithusa cried, desperately tugging at the magic invisible ropes that Merlin had used to hang her upside down from the ceiling.

"Soz Thuse, places to go, people to see, babies to feed,"

Babies? What was he on about now? Aithusa shook her head, now was not the time. She needed to get Merlin to stop his blasted enchantment!

"Toodles!" The warlock said sweetly, before swiftly ducking out the room.

"MERLIN! RELEASE MEEEEE"

"The names Malcolm!" The cheery voice called back.

The black-haired big-eared man strolled happily out of the room of requirement, casually ignoring the pleads and wails coming from his captive. Aithusa would get out of his invisible ropes soon enough - it wasn't as if they would release her only when she said "O'hail the Great Merlin,"

Merlin wasn't that mean.

He paused his stride, pondering, before walking in the opposite direction to his original. There was no use going back to the main hall now - Dumbledore was probably still announcing the dangers of the forbidden forest knowing him. Nothing important was going to be announced.

So instead strode up the staircase, two steps at a time, into his new classroom, a jump in his step. He opened the handprint-worn door, instantly breathing in the old-book scent like it was food.

Mmmm old books - there's nothing like the scent of ancient tree corpses with ink on them. Delicious.

Sniffing deeply, he looked around his history classroom. It definitely could have done with a scrub.

Dust was vomited on every surface, and the only sunlight in the room had been poisoned by the glass of the windows - stale and feeble, as if it had been in the room to long to get out. The mustiness of the room was revealed through the weak shards of light - particles of who-knows-what floating nauseously in the air. Desks clumsily plonked themselves into disorderly rows, shelves swung queasily from their brackets, the floorboards were warped and – Oh, Merlin could go on.

It was time to get to work before he too got sucked into the room's dullness.

Back in the great hall.

"WHAT!" Harry exclaimed in disbelief, but his voice was only lost in the hundreds of other objections and protests.

What did they mean that quidditch was cancelled? Harry practically lived for quidditch - this - this was evil! Pure evil!

But Professor Dumbledore, ever the dumbledore, just surveyed the commotion through his half-moon spectacles with his usual calmness, obviously expecting this response.

He proceeded to announce something about a 'Triwizard Tournament' taking place. Ron seemed excited; Hermione looked like she was trying not to groan. Harry was just hoping this year didn't have noseless-maniacs or oversized snakes or werewolves trying to eat him. That would be a nice change.

Harry's musings were interrupted with a sharp elbow to his ribs. "OW Hermione!" He hissed.

"Look," she whispered, her eyes flickering briefly up to the teachers' table. "Malcolm has disappeared,"

Alas, she was right. The once occupied seat between Snape and Hagrid was empty.

The trio had had quite the shock when the strange crazy man who had found Crookshanks in Diagon Alley was announced as their new history teacher. They were all questioning the sanity of both Malcolm and their headmaster, and to be honest, neither of them trusted Dumbledore's employing abilities.

Although, saying that, there was just something young and warm about Malcolm, like an old friend. Harry wondered where the other one was - ah, Arthur was his name, yes.

"Hey guys..." Ron started, as Dumbledore brought his speech to a close, "you know that new transfer student..." Harry and Hermione scanned the Slytherin table.

"She's gone as well!" They gasped.

Their eyes suddenly burned with something akin to excitement and suspicion.

"Oh, bloody hell," Ron said, resigned, "I know those faces. We are going to be nosy, and then somehow end up entangled in some elaborate secret plan, aren't we?

"You guessed it."