It was around eight o'clock when I left my quarters for breakfast. I had dressed myself in a fresh pair of jeans, a shirt as green as my eyes, and an assorment of black rubber bracelets. I wished the wolf in the portrait a good day, which she seemed to enjoy very much, and followed a group of fourth- and third-year students down to the Great Hall.

The majority of the school was in the giant room. The older students were hungrily scarfing down cereal and waffles and such, while the first years looked too nervous to eat. I glanced at my seat at the staff table. It looked inviting, but something inside me wanted to have some mental stimulation. I walked to the Gryffindor table and sat down near the end where there were not so many students. I was creating a small pile or pancakes and sausage on my plate when several people plopped down near me.

"Aren't you supposed to be eating at the staff table?" Hermione looked from me to my chair and back. "Won't you get in trouble for sitting with us?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "If I'm going to be with you guys in your classes, I think it's okay for me to sit here." I cut my pancakes expertly then took a bite. "Beside," I added when I swallowed, "I am a former Gryffindor." A low rumble of thunder shook the room. "Damn, enchanted ceiling." I shot a glare at the cloudy sky. "So when are you guys holding tryouts for a new Keeper?" I asked Harry.

His emerald eyes widened a bit; I guess he didn't expect me to address him. "This Friday. Angelina Johnson is our new Captain."

"She's a fair-mindded person," I muttered around another bite of pancake.

There was a whooshing sound above our heads as hundreds of owls of all colors, shapes, and size flew in. A particularly heavy owl soared over my head and sent a cascade of rain droplet on my head. I snarled at the bird but it was already at its owner. It must be raining.

A barn owl brought Hermione a Daily Prophet, which she promptly disappeared behind as soon as she paid the owl. Ron, Harry and I had just finished eating when she closed it with a huff. "There's absolutely nothing in here. Nothing on Dumbledore or you," she muttered to Harry.

"May I ask, Mr. Creary, why you are sitting with the students, instead of at the staff table?" McGonagall appeared behind me, clutching a large stack of student schedules.

"I thought I'd get my fill of chatter before becoming subdued by the observing of students and seriousness of being a teacher's help." I tried to sound as serious as possible, but my smile slipped through.

McGonagall rolled her eyes and swatted me on the head with a schedule, which she handed to Ron. "You will never change, Creary." There was warmth in her words. She gave the students seated around me their schedules. "Don't make a habit of it. You are still a teacher's assistant and must act like one."

I raised my hand in a salute. "Yes, ma'am."

"You've got to teach me how to do that," said Harry as McGonagall walked away.

"Which part? Make her smile or get hit with a piece of paper?"

Harry smiled brightly at me, but it turned into a frown when he looked at his schedule. Ron had a look of sheer horror on his freckled face. Hermione was the only one who looked calm as she studied the piece of parchment McGonagall gave her.

Ron let out a low groan. "History of Magic, double Potions, Divination and double Defense Against the Dark Arts. I don't think I can handle Binns, Snape, Trelawney and Umbridge all in one day."

"You can buy one of your brothers' Skiving Snackboxes," Harry suggested.

The Weasley twins popped up out of nowhere, something I got used to when they started Hogwarts. So they created. . . Skiving Snackboxes? Sounds interesting.

"We are here to provide our services," said Fred.

"But we will only do it for a price," said George.

I smirked at the red-headed twins.

"We can give you a Nosebleed Nougat cheap if you want." Fred looked at his younger brother's schedule and winced.

Ron narrowed his eyes and took back his schedule. "Why is it cheap?"

"We haven't created an antidote yet, so you kind of shrivel up from bloodloss," answered George. "Maybe I should sneak one into Snape's evening meal."

I shook my head, amused. "There's not a drop of blood in his body, just potion."

"Fair point." Fred grinned at me. "It's great to have you back." His smile fell a bit into a weary one. "You're not. . .uh. . . gonna tell anyone about the Snack boxes are you? I mean, you're not going to take away points or anything?"

"I'm not sure if I have that power," I admitted. "But these things are a work of genius so why would I report it?"

The twins' faces nearly cracked under the pressure of their grins.

"Well, I got to get going." I pulled myself to my feet, brushing crumbs from my shirt. Why I didn't fasten my cloak is beyond me. "I'm overseeing Umbridge's class with the fifth years today, and I am so fuckin' excited."

"Sarcasm is a dirty language, Talis," said George.

I smirked at the twin. "Wash out my mouth, Mother."

George adn Fred collapsed into a fit of laghter with Ron soon joining them. Hermione did not look amused, but Harry did. I bid them a good day then left feeling lighter than I have in years.

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I set my supplies - jar of ink, several pieces of parchment, quill - on the desk I believed was to be mine. It was smaller than the teacher's but bigger than the students'. Umbridge was standing before her desk, casting suspicious glances at me whenever she thought I wasn't paying attention. She was still wearing that damned pink cardigan and had added a little black bow to her attire. I thought it looked like a fly that had unwisely decided to light upon a pink toad. I was half tempted to tell her that, but I didn't want to spoil my first day as an assistant by being a wise-ass.

The bell rang, echoing throughout the castle and hurting my ears just as it had when I was a student. The door opened with a small squeak, and the students filed in. They didn't look too happy to be in an unfamiliar teacher's territory. Some of them look relieved when they noticed me sitting at the front of their desks. I gave a smal encouraging smile and a few returned it.

When all the students were seated, Umbridge greeted them as if they were toddlers. Few students returned her greeting; I noticed Harry, Ron and Hermione were along the others who didn't speak.

"That simply won't do!" Umbridge looked around at the student with a broad smile on her even broader face. "When I say 'Good afternoon, class,' I would like you to reply 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.'" She turned to me. "I would like you to return the greeting as well, Mr. Creary."

I raised an eyebrow. "I am not a student, Professor."

"My dear, I believe you are in my classroom to assist me. And I would like you to greet me with the students." There was a dangerous glint in her eyes, but I wasn't going to be bullied by a Ministry-approved official.

"My dear Professor, I believe I was hired by Professor Dumbledore, not you." I blinked my eyes innocently and smiled sweetly, knowing fully well that my fangs were glinting. "I will not be treated like your students or like your pet, ma'am."

Umbridge's smug grin fell into a scowl more befitting of her face, but her smile was back in a blink. She turned back to the students and made them greet her.

"See? That wasn't so difficult, was it?" Her simpering tone had returned; I wasn't the only one to grimace. "Wands away, please, and quills out." She opened her bag, which was as pink as her cardigan, and withdrew a rather short wand. I wanted to say something like 'Let's compare sizes.' or something stupid like that. She tapped the blackboard with the tip of her wand. The words "Defense Against the Dark Arts: A Return to Basic Principles" appeared at once.

"When I applied to this post, I became aware that this subject has been fragmented and disrupted. The unforunate changing of teachers, including the ones whom did not follow a Ministry-approved curriculum, has dropped you below the expected level for students who have entered their O.W.L. year."

I rolled my eyes and leaned back in my chair. I bet she was appointed because she was only one who would thoroughly kiss the Minister's ass.

"We will be learning defensive magic through a carefully constructed, theory-centered, Ministry-approved course. Please copy the following." The aims for the course appeared under the first set of lettering. "And, Mr. Creary, this will be an excellent time for you to reintroduce yourself to these arts in a safe, practical way."

"I believe remember everything my teachers in this subject have taught me, Professor. I do not need to be taught something I already know."

I could hear a few quiet snickers from the students, but Umbridge did not look pleased at being challenged. "Maybe I should have a word with the Headmaster."

"Professor, he will tell you exactly what I have just said."

I knew she would have given me a detention if I had been a student. Her annoyance was evident when she addressed the class. "I believe everyone has a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard, correct?"

I fought down the urge to roll my eyes as the toady woman made the students answer her like some kind of parrots. Then she ordered them to read the first chapter of the book. I glanced up at the ceiling - someone needs to do some dusting - when Umbridge said out of the blue, "Did you want to ask something about the book?"

"Not about the book," said Hermione's voice. I looked at her and noticed she was massaging her wrist. "It's about your course aims."

"What is your name?"

"Hermione Granger."

Umbridge's tone darken a bit. "Miss Granger, I believe the course aims are quite clear if you read them thoroughly."

"I did read them, but there's nothing in the aims about using spells."

I glanced at the blackboard. Hermione was right. There was absolutely nothing about using spells to defend yourself. When I was a student, I had my wand out everyday in this class, whether was practicing a spell or trying to weasel in some fun.

"Why would you need to use spells, when you are in a safe classroom? I hope, Miss Granger, that you do not believe you will be attacked in here?"

Ron flared up beside Hermione. "We're not going to use magic?!"

"I must insist that students raise their hands if they want to talk." Her smile grew more venomous when she turned back to Hermione, who had her hand in the air. "Did you need to ask somehing else?"

"Yes, Professor. Isn't the whole point of Defense Against the Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells?"

"Are you a Ministry-trained education professional, Miss Granger? I do not believe so. Therefore I do not believe you are qualified to decide what the 'whole point' of any class is. Wizards and witches who are more qualified, older, and wiser than a fifth year students have created this new program. This is how you can learn to use spells in a secure, risk-free way."

Students in every corner of the room began a protest that burned my ears. Umbridge was getting more and more irritated by the second. Maybe Dumbledore should have warned the students about the way this woman taught, unless even he did not have the power to make her teach a certain way. Maybe the Ministry was more embedded in the school than any of us thought.

"Who do you think would attack children such as yourselves?" Umbridge's voice was sickly sweet, and I knew this toad was about to sprout fangs. My hand inched toward my wand still incased in its sheath strapped to my thigh.

"Maybe Lord Voldemort." Harry's voice was thick with anger.

I looked at the green-eyed teenager. Did he not know that he was only baiting Umbridge? I willed him to keep his mouth shut.

"Ten points from Gryffindor."

Upon hearing those words, I had to remind myself that I was not a Gryffindor anymore nor was I the one who was getting points docked.

"I want to make a few things quite clear. You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned. This is a lie." She said the last four words as if trying to explain somehing to a five year old.

"It's not a lie!" Harry protested.

"Dentention, Mr. Potter!" I wanted to hex the smug look off her broad face. "Tomorrow. Five o'clock. My office." She sat down behind her desk and tented her fingers. "Now, the Minister would like you to know that you are not in any danger from any Dark wizard."

I wanted to growl 'Except you' but kept silent. I glanced at Harry; he looked as if he was about to burst like a stressed balloon.

Umbridge seemed to catch onto Harry's brewing anger. "If you are worried, please come and see me anytime outside of class," she said. "If someone is spreading lies about returned Dark wizards, I would like you to inform me at once. I am here to help you. I want to be your friend. Now, I want you to finish reading the first chapter of your book."

Harry rose to his feet, obviously ignoring my mental pleas for him to shut the hell up before he finishes digging his grave. "According to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead on his own, huh?"

I raised the hand that was not clutching the handle of my wand and pinched the bridge of my nose. I remember Diggory. He was a good student, great maker of friends, and decent Quidditch player. His death had rocked Hogwarts to its core. No one, other than Harry, knew what happened to Cedric, but I know Harry would not murder a fellow student in cold blood.

"Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident." Umbridge sounded like she was baiting Harry just as much as he was baiting her.

"It was murder," Harry ground out through gritted teeth.

A dark smile practically dripping with venom appeared on Umbrdige's face. She withdrew a brilliant pink notepad and a quill from a drawer in her desk. She scribbled something down then made a 'come htiher' motion with her finger at Harry. "Please take this to Professor McGonagall." Harry snatched up the note and turned to the door. "Mr. Creary, you will join him."

I rose to my feet, releasing my grip on my wand, and strolled over to teh teenager.

"All he did was sit there," Harry objected, glancing at me.

"He should have agreed with me," Umbridge replied in a too sweet voice. "Take him to the Head of Gryffindor, " she added, looking at me with beady eyes.

I nodded and followed Harry out into the hallway. Classes were in session so the corridors were deserted, except for the occasional ghost.

"You could have stood up to her, you know."

I arched an eyebrow and looked down at the younger teenager. "And how could I have done that?"

Narrowed green eyes glinted with anger and frustration. "You are an assitant to the teacher. You could have stopped her!"

"What good would it have done?" I asked evenly. "Just as you said, I am only an assistant teacher. I do not have the power to tell a teacher what to do and what not to do." I stopped walking in the middle of the hallway. Harry halted about a yard from me and looked back. "Could you not see that she was baiting you? Honestly, Harry. She's from the Ministry; she knows she can get away with practically anything. And yet you allowed her to bait you."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "She has no right to say Cedric's death was an accident." He sighed heavily, as if trying to get a heavy weight off his shoulders. "No one believes me. That I saw Cedric get murdered by Voldemort. It was. . . It shouldn't have happened."

"If it means anything, I believe you."

Green eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open. "What? Why didn't you say anything before?"

I shrugged. "I don't like to hero-worship people, but I do believe that Voldemort is back, Harry. I know he has the ability to kill people without feeling regret. And there has been a lot of odd goings on lately that seem to point toward the Dark wizard." I continued down the hall with Harry at my side. "Umbridge was appointed by the Ministry to 'teach' students that they will not be attacked, ever. I think it's complete bullshit."

Harry gave a small snort of laughter. Something about my colorful language makes these students laugh for some reason. We rounded a corner, and ran into the ghost most hated by the students and many of the staff, Peeves the Poltergeist.

"Well, if it isn't Potty Wee Potter and Fairy Creary!" Several of the inkpots he was juggling fell to the ground at our feet; I snarled as the ink splattered on my sneakers.

"What do you want, Peeves?" I growled the same moment Harry said, "Get out of it."

"Ooooh, is the Fairy getting angry at little ol' Peevsie?"

"Come on, Harry." I grabbed his sleeve and made him keep walking down the corridor. Unfortunately, Peeves decided we would be his victims for the moment.

"What's wrong, my Potty friend? Has Fairy Creary corrupted you? Seeing visions? Speaking in tonuges?" The poltergeist blew a wet raspberry.

"Leave us alone!" I barked as we went down a flight of stairs. Peeves slid down on the banister of the steps on his back, keeping in time with our steps.

"Oh, Mr. Creary, it's been told that he's gay. Not just happy and joyful, but in that way. He is with the Potty wee lad. Whom everyone believes is completely mad!"

"Shut the hell up!" I reached for my wand, but a door opened up with a bang. McGonagall appeared with a frown on her face, looking very much displeased at my shouting.

"What is going on?" she demanded as Peeves zoomed away through a wall. "Potter, why aren't you in class? And why aren't you helping a teacher, Creary?"

"We were sent to you, Professor," I grumbled, glancing over my shoulder at the spot where Peeves disappeared; I knew there was a possibility that he would be listening in. But he was no where to be seen.

"What do you mean, sent to me?" McGonagall's eyes narrowed into slits, reminding me of the cat that she was.

Harry handed her the note Umbridge gave to him. McGonagall scanned it quickly behind her square glasses then motioned for the two of us to follow her into her study.

"Is this true?" she asked once we were seated in the squishy chairs before her desk. She sat down in his chair and set the note on the desk. Harry glanced at me, but I kept my eyes on my former professor. "That you shouted at Professor Umbridge?"

"Yes." There was a timidness in the way that he answered that told me he didn't like getting on McGonagall's bad side.

"You called her a liar, to her face?"

"Yes."

"You said that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned?"

"Yes."

"Is this true?" she repeated, looking at me. "Mr. Creary, did this happen while you were in the classroom."

I nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"Have a cookie, Potter, Creary."

"Thank you." I picked up a Ginger Newt from the open tin on her desk. Harry followed suit, though he was more hesitant. I bit off the Newt's head so it would stop wriggling. "Umbridge's teaching abilites are questionable, Minerva." I knew I should not address her by her given name in the presence of a student, but what the hell. Beside, Dumbledore asked me to report to him or McGonagall about Umbridge. "She's using books as if they are some kind of lifeline. The only spells allowed in her classroom can only be performed by her." I glanced at Harry, but he was busy gnawing on his Newt. "She seems. . . sadistic."

"We can not do anything about her teaching techniques, Talis."

My given name caught Harry's attention, and out of the corner of my eye I could see him mouthing my name to himself, as if testing the word on his tongue.

"But you need to be careful when you are around her. Even you, Potter. Misbehavior in Professor Umbridge's classroom can result in more than the loss of points and detentions." She pinched the bridge of her nose for a second. "Use your common sense, Potter. We all know where she comes from and to whom she is reporting."

I jumped when the bell signalling the end of class chimed. I should have destroyed that thing in my seventh year to save future students like myself from a headache. A sound similar to thunder filled the castle. I wanted to clamp my hands over my ears.

McGonagall glanced at the pink piece of paper. "Professor Umbridge is giving you detention every evening this week starting tomorrow."

"But, Professor, can you-"

"No, I can't, Potter. She is your teacher and has the right to give you detention. Your first detention is tomorrow at five o'clock, and you will go to it."

Harry turned his green gaze to me. "Talis - Mr. Creary, can't you do-"

I shook my head reluctantly. "It's as Professor McGonagall said, Umbridge is your teacher. I am only an assistant teacher. The most I can do is give points or take away points from students." I glanced at McGonagall, and she nodded in confirmation. Yes, I got the power! "I'm sorry, Potter, but there's nothing I can do."

"But I was telling the truth." Harry narrowed his eyes in a glare. "Voldemort's back. You know it, Dumbeldore knows it, the Ministry knows it but they're hiding it."

"Potter! Do not speak his name!" McGonagall straightened her glasses. "This is about keeping your head down and your temper under control, not about truths and lies!" She rose to her feet, and Harry and I followed her example. "Have another cookie."

"Thank you," I said, taking another Ginger Newt. I noticed Harry didn't take one and nudged him with my elbow. He grumbled his thanks and took a cookie. McGonagall's face was strict but her eyes said she was happy Harry had taken a cookie. It meant that he was at least attempting to keep his temper under wraps.

"At the start-of-term feast, Umbridge made it perfectly clear that the Ministry is trying to interfere at the school. Tread carefully around Professor Umbridge, both of you."

I nodded and flashed a smile that showed off my long canines. "Don't worry, Professor. We'll stay out of trouble, even if I have to hogtie this one and lug him around." I could see amusement flicker in her eyes. "That's my warning, Potter," I said, looking at the younger teenager, who looked up at me with bright green eyes. "I've done it before, I'll do it again."

"Apparently you forgot the detention you got by doing that," McGonagall muttered before walking to the door. "Remember what I said, Potter: Tread carefully around Professor Umbridge."

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"Your first name is Talis?"

I nodded, glancing at the paintings on the corridor walls. I wonder if the wolf from the portrait guarding my door could visit other pictures. I didn't see her so I looked at Harry and his two friends. It was Hermione who asked the question.

"How do you pronounce it?" There was genuine curiousity in her voice.

"Ta-al-iss, and my last name is pronounced Crah-ear-ee." I smiled slightly. "You can not call me by my first name in the classroom; there you will address me as Mr. Creary, or Professor Creary if you want to give my ego a boost. But outside of class I don't mind if you call me by my given name."

Hermione giggled softly, and Ron flashed me a look that said he was jealous. "What class will you be helping out with tomorrow?"

I shrugged. "I'm going to talk to Dumbledore about letting me help out with the Care of Magical Creatures class. I'm rather fond of magical animals."

Ron nodded as though satisfied with my answer and continued down the hall in comfortable silence. Hermione's eyes kept flicking towards Harry who was looking at the floor. Something told me that he was in for an earful when the trio returned to the Gryffindor Common Room. I returned to searching for the wolf. After several quiet minutes Harry finally spoke.

"Talis, what did Peeves mean?"

I furrowed my eyebrows for a moment. "What do you mean?"

"The idiot called you a fairy. He asked is you had. . . corrupted me and said you were. . . gay."

"Um. . ." I paused, my opened cloak billowing around my ankles. I brought a hand up and slid my fingers through my hair. "Forgot about that." I looked at the trio of younger teenagers who had stopped a few feet ahead of me. They were looking at me with open curiousity. "I knew that would come back and bite me in the ass."

We stood there in an awkward silence until Ron broke it. "Is it true?"

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Is it true that I'm gay? Yes." I looked down at the floor; it was shiny enough that I could see my reflection: a tall, slightly muscular nineteen year old wizard with short, spiky dark brunette hair complete with neon green bangs, face marred by a long scar that race downward from the left eyebrow to the chin, and acid green eyes. I wanted to curse the floor into a million pieces. "I've been able to keep it secret. So I didn't get hurt, you know? It's not easy being homosexual in a predominately heterosexual world." I touched my scar, tracing the puckered flesh with my fingertips. I looked up at the trio. "I am who I am, and I'm not going to change for anybody."

Harry, Ron and Hermione stood there in silence. I could not tell what was racing through their minds, and I probably didn't want to know. I walked past them and continued on my way to my quarters. "I'll see you in class tomorrow." I didn't hear footsteps following me. I decided that that was a good thing.

The wolf was waiting for me when I got to the portrait. "Lupus cor."

"I have one too," she said, then the portrait swung open.

I stepped into my sitting room and flopped down on the sofa, kicking my shoes into a corner. I draped my arm over my eyes and heaved a sigh.

"Methinks it has been a long day for you." The wolf's voice echoed throughout the quiet room. There must be a picture frame somewhere in the room that I had overlooked yesterday and this morning. "Do you need someone to talk to?"

"Depends on if this someone is non-judgemental and actually cares."

"I will listen to your worries and fears. We both have a habit of bottling our emotions when we should be talking about them."

I sighed again. I guess the wolf was good company compared to others. "Peeves practically announced to Harry Potter that I was a wand-biter. Then I confirmed it to him and his two friends."

"The Harry Potter boy. . . His friends are Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, correct?"

"Yeah."

"Are you worried they will not accept you as who you are?"

I nodded into my arm. "It's a heterosexual-dominant world; I've already got the scars, emotional and physical, to prove that."

"My dear pup, you have forgotten something. Ron and Hermione have accept Harry as the savior of the Wizarding World. Hermione and Harry have accepted Ron from coming from a large and poor family. Harry and Ron have accept Hermione as a book-smart girl who can answer almost anything." The wolf gave a soft bark. "If they do not accept you, I would be very much surprised. As for your scars, I was there when you got the one on your face."

My arm dropped to my side as I sat up. My eyes darted around the room until they found the picture frame. It was on the wall beside the bookshelf. The wolf was sitting amongst a field of pretty rose roses. "You were?"

The wolf nodded. "Yes. I was chasing the flock of sheep from the fourth floor. I still can not understand how he could have done that to you. The two of you were inseperable, you and Blue Jacobs."

I winced at his name. "That was a long time ago."

"I do not know why he did it, though. I only saw the moment he sent to the curse." The wolf cocked her head to the side; her ear twitched when a rose brushed against it. "Will you clarify?"

"He didn't want to be with me." I could feel my eyes begin to burn from unshed tears. "We were. . . We were virgins when we met, and I thought we could actually be a couple. We had sex for the first time in our sixth year, and it was great. But Frieda Loughes stepped into the picture. He left me for her, and when I confronted him about why he was being distant, he told me he wanted me to die and cursed me." A tear escaped the corner of my eyes. "I never laid eyes on another man. I didn't want to feel that kind of pain again." The tear raced down my cheek, paused on my chin then dropped onto the couch. "Am I a disgrace to my kind? For wanting to mate with another male?"

The wolf had been listening intently. I could see her eyes shimmer as if she was holding back her own tears. "No, you are not a disgrace for wanting a male mate. It's common in our kind. As for Blue Jacobs. . . I'm very sorry he did that to you, pup. But there will be others. You must look to the future, not dwell in the past."

I nodded, but I knew it was going to be hard. When your heart is broken like that, it is very hard to forgive and forget. Then green eyes flashed in my mind. Confusion coursed through me. Blue Jacobs had been named after his eyes, which were the lightest of blue.

"Go down to dinner, pup. Everything will be okay."

I hope it will be.