"What the bloody hell do you mean?" Ron exclaimed softly, glancing over his shoulder with an unfeigned shudder. "The woman's mad. Did you see that look on her face?"
"Harry!"
George and Fred Weasley ran up behind them. "Is it true?" Fred demanded, the mischievous light in his eyes banked in a rare moment of seriousness. "Did she really try and kill you?"
Harry didn't answer until they turned a corner. "It was just a demonstration." His voice was weary.
"I wouldn't be surprised if it wasn't," George declared. "She's like Snape--"
"And McGonagall--"
"And Mad-Eye Moody--"
"Rolled together."
"Into quite an eyeful," George added with leering thoughtfulness. "Weird clothes, though."
Ron and Hermione had been watching the twins finish each others' sentences, heads turning back and forth as though at a tennis match.
"Now that's creepy," Hermione muttered. "Oh, I'm sorry."
The third year boy who had bumped into Hermione took one look at the silver 'P' stitched onto her robes, ducked his head, and mumbled an inaudible apology before rushing on.
"Strange," she murmured.
"I agree with you," Ron deadpanned. "She'd be a 'wow' if she weren't a stark raving lunatic!"
"She isn't that bad," Harry lied. "I mean, here I am, right?" He adjusted his robes so as not to trod on them.
"That accent," Fred said, grinning in admiration.
"Go on, hit on her," Ron muttered. "Don't blame me when she blows your bloody brains out." He stopped as the group walked past a staircase. "I have to go to Charms," he explained. "Better go before these change."
"Oh," Harry said, genuinely disappointed but also grateful for a change of subject. "Well, at least you don't have to face McGonagall yet."
"Yeah, I'll have to face her without you."
Ron used the word inclusively, but Harry saw him sneak a glance at Hermione. He pressed down a smile.
"Muggle Studies is this way," Fred said. "We'll escort you through the halls, Ronniekins."
Ron, who stood level with his twin brothers by now, swung at Fred, who ducked and ran laughing down the stairs.
"No running in the corridors!" Hermione shouted after him.
"Don't bother, 'mioney," said George, grinning. "He wouldn't listen to you if you were Head Girl."
"Muggle Studies?" Harry asked, surprised.
"Yeah. Dad finally roped us into it." George rolled his eyes before
shouting after his twin. "Oy, Fred, wait up! Come on,
Ronniekins."
Ron waved at Harry and Hermione before giving chase to George. Hermione only smiled and shook her head.
A thousand noises suddenly exploded in the school. Bird squawks, gavels tapping, bells ringing, water splashing, prima donnas singing, all from different classrooms. Hermione gasped as Harry cringed. "We're late! Ohhh, we're late for Transfiguration on the first day!"
"Come on!" Harry tugged on her sleeve and started running.
A minute later they skidded into McGonagall's classroom, which overlooked the Quidditch field. No witch sat at the professor's desk and for a moment Harry felt his heart leap in hope until he noticed the stiff cat with the markings around its eyes sitting on top of a stack of folders.
The cat leaped gracefully to the ground, whereupon it immediately became a woman in emerald robes and a tall, crooked hat. Hermione and Harry sidled to their seats.
"Miss Granger," said McGonagall sternly, walking to stand in front of Hermione. "I trust you have a reason for your tardiness."
"There was a lost first year in the corridors, ma'am," Hermione said, meeting the professor's eye.
"Ah. And you, Mr. Potter? I suppose you stayed to help?"
"Yes, ma'am," replied Harry, trying to lie as convincingly as Hermione.
McGonagall's thin lips pinched together. "You needn't have done so--Miss Granger is the prefect, not you." From the corner of his eye, Harry could see Malfoy smirking. "Five points from Gryffindor." She turned her gaze onto Hermione. "And ten points to Gryffindor."
As soon as the professor's back was turned Harry and Hermione exchanged a smile.
"Now, class, I trust you all reviewed your books over the summer," McGonagall said, with more than a touch of sarcasm in her voice. "Who here can refresh our memories further by turning this," she held up the infamous pincushion, "into a porcupine?"
No one moved, except Hermione, whose hand shot straight up. Naturally, McGonagall ignored her.
"Mr. Longbottom." She approached Neville's seat, set so unfortunately at the front of the class, and placed the pincushion before him. "Please demonstrate."
All the Slytherins snickered. "Watch the idiot git blow himself up again,"
Harry heard Malfoy hiss to Crabbe and Goyle. He
turned and shot a venomous look at the blonde boy over his shoulder.
Neville stared at the pincushion for a moment, drawing a deep breath. Then he picked up his wand and intoned in an uncharacteristically steady voice, "Metamorphose porcupine."
The pincushion twitched, changed color, and slowly morphed into a sniffling little creature covered in spikes.
McGonagall, eyebrows raised in understated surprise, leaned over and surveyed the porcupine critically. "A few pins still left," she said, gingerly picking out two white-headed ones. "But on the whole, satisfactory work, Mr. Longbottom. Ten points to Gryffindor."
"My God," Hermione murmured, "what's happened to Neville?"
Harry grinned. It was almost enough to make him forget about Professor Carmen Rysk, who had said her name was Professor Harrison.
Almost.
****
Several late owls flew over the Great Hall during lunch. One of them dropped a letter into Harry's lap and flew away to the Owlery without so much as a by-your-leave hoot.
"See, Hermione, the reason she doesn't call on you is that she wants to see how many more times it takes until your arm falls off. Which won't be long...whatcha got there, Harry?"
Harry flipped the rather weathered envelope over to see simply:
Harry
The handwriting was instantly recognized by both Ron and Hermione as they leaned over his shoulders. "Padfoot," Ron muttered.
"Hurry up and eat," said Harry quietly. "We'll open it in the common room, if no one's there."
"I'm full," said Hermione instantly, shoving back in her chair. "Damned if I leech off the house elves too much, anyway," she added under her breath.
Ron rolled his eyes and shovelled a last-minute spoonful of rice into his mouth before standing as well. Harry tucked Sirius's letter inside his robes and together they walked into the foyer outside the Hall.
"Well, well, look at this." A cold, drawling voice reached their ears as they began to ascend the stairs. "Potty, the Weasel, and the Mudblood."
Ron, standing lowest on the stairs, whirled around with frightening vehemence, wand drawn and pointed at Malfoy, who was flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. His freckles stood out starkly against a pale face suddenly much whiter than usual with fury. "Take that back," he growled.
Malfoy arched an eyebrow insolently. "Or what, Weasley?"
Hermione, standing above Ron, reached down and grabbed his shoulder. "Ron, don't worry about it...come on, ignore him."
"Well, how about it Potter?" jeered Malfoy, dismissing Ron's threat with insulting nonchalance. "Even going to show up for Defense Against the Arts tomorrow? You looked like you were going to faint. Watch out, Harrison might be a Dementor in disguise."
Ron's jaw clenched, his desire to hex the sneer off of Malfoy's face obvious. Hermione's grip on his shoulder turned dangerously firm; he turned his shoulder and began walking up the stairs but without putting away his wand.
"That's right," drawled Malfoy maliciously. He sounded gleefully thoughtful, as though he had suddenly remembered something most delightful. "Pass along my congratulations to your brother, Weasley, for being the only one of your kind with any brains...only one who could see what a family of Muggle-lovers he came from..."
Harry turned around, his brow furrowed, about to ask what Malfoy meant. He only got a glance of the vicious anger contorting Ron's face before his friend whipped violently around.
"SHUT UP!" roared Ron, pointing his wand with a shaking hand. "Stupi--"
"Ron, no!" Harry fumbled for his wand. "Expelliarmus!"
Ron's wand arced through the air to Harry. From the corner of his eye, Harry saw Hermione catch Draco's wand. He blinked.
Ron turned sharply and stared at Harry in angry disbelief. Harry flinched and looked away.
"What is the meaning of this?" Hermione gasped as Snape came sweeping down the stairs, his sallow face severe. The Potions master looked between the two groups. A nasty, eager sort of smile twitched at his lips.
"They tried to attack us, Professor," Malfoy said with sickening confused helplessness. "Me and Crabbe and Goyle, we were just walking--"
"Detention for a week, all three of you, and twenty points each from Gryffindor," snapped Snape. He turned to look at Harry. "Not even the end of the first day, Potter, and already in trouble," he said softly. "How typical."
"Challenge: twenty points each to Gryffindor," a new voice said from above. Everyone's head snapped up to see Professor 'Harrison' leaning over the balcony railing one floor above. "I'm afraid you didn't see everything, Professor Snape, so I have to counter your punishment." The young woman emphasized Snape's title in a vaguely sarcastic manner. Snape's lip curled. Rysk vanished from sight and reappeared as she made her way down the steps, her robes billowing impressively behind her in sharp contrast to her Muggle clothing. "Malfoy provoked them," she said simply, stopping beside Snape. "Detention, Malfoy." Subtle disgust ran deeply beneath her icy voice. "For picking a fight. And lying about it."
"I doubt, Ms. Harrison, that Mr. Malfoy did anything of the sort," Snape said in a dangerous voice, advancing a step towards the new teacher, trying to use his height to intimidate. Unfortunately for him, Rysk stood barely a centimeter shorter than he.
The American's eyebrows rose a hair. "I saw the entire thing, Snape." Harry noted that the usual amicable air between teachers was absent as far as these two were concerned. Indeed, Rysk seemed to be using her civility as an insult. "Are you questioning my integrity?"
Snape glared at her.
"Five points from Slytherin," announced Rysk in a voice that brooked no argument. "Five from Gryffindor, and detention for you, too, Weasley. Five points each to you two," she glanced at Harry and Hermione, "for preventing a fight. Now, return the wands."
Harry held out the wand to Ron, who practically snatched it away with a blank stare. Hermione, swallowing her disgust, marched stiffly down the stairs and offered Malfoy his. He took it with only a ghost of his usual smirk, not looking very happy at all.
"Mr. Weasley, you will report to the dungeons after supper," Snape started.
"No." Snape's head snapped up to Rysk; his eyes narrowed. The young professor continued coolly, "Since I saw the entire thing, that would put me in charge. Do you have a problem with that, Snape?"
The Potions master's dark eyes spit daggers at Rysk before he turned on his heel and stalked off, his footsteps ringing out on the flagged stone floor.
Rysk watched after Snape for a moment, and odd look flickering across her eyes, before turning back to the students.
"Professor...Harrison," Hermione spoke up, stumbling a bit over the name. "Please, if you're going to punish Ron, give the rest of us detention, too...we were using magic between classes."
Ron remained angrily silent.
Rysk ignored Hermione. "Weasley, be in my room after dinner tonight. You," she said to Malfoy, "will stay after class tomorrow. Understand?"
"Yes, Professor," replied Malfoy with insinuating politeness. Behind him, Goyle grunted something under his breath.
"Good." Rysk's eyes flicked over the students. "Get going."
Ron turned and began running up the stairs. Harry tried to catch his sleeve as he passed. "Ron, I'm sorry."
With a look of disgust Ron shook Harry off and continued his dash to the Gryffindor room. Harry stared after him helplessly, feeling like scum.
"Come on, Harry," said Hermione, resting a hand on his arm. "We'll talk to him."
Professor 'Harrison' was left alone in the vast foyer. She watched Malfoy swagger back into the Great Hall with an imperceptible curl of her lip and stared after Harry Potter until he vanished around a corner, Hermione's hand on his shoulder.
"The boy who lived," Rysk murmured under her breath, sounding strangely bitter and amused at the same time. She began walking up the stairs, one hand trailing over the railing, when a flash of white on the flagged tiles below caught her eye. She stopped and stared at the envelope--it must have flown out of Potter's robes while he was reaching for his wand. Rysk made a mental note to work on drawing wands in her class; Potter's handling of it had been quite messy.
Glancing around to make sure she was alone, Rysk vaulted over the railing and landed softly on the floor below with catlike grace, something she wasn't supposed to be able to do. After all, she was just a normal witch, albeit with streaked hair and a penchant for Muggle clothing.
Her lips tugged up into a sardonic smile.
She picked the letter up, intending to return it to its owner. Her intentions swiftly changed as she flipped the envelope over and saw the handwriting.
Rysk's grey eyes widened. "Fucking..."
The letter disappeared into a pocket within her robes and travelled with her to her personal chambers.
Lupin, and now this. I'm really starting to regret this...
