AN: Welcome to chapter two of my extremely weird yet lame story. My sense
of humour might be lost on me, but hey, you might think this is cute.
Don't expect romance too soon, I'm building up the plot first.
Oops, did I say romance? Sorry, I mean anything else "cool".
D/C: Don't even think about taking my spiffy song w/out asking me first! The sorting hat song in the last chapter, I mean. Anyhow, toodles, I don't own HP but I do own Emilia Black. ::smooches:: Bye!
Chapter Two: Lied
Emilia awoke the next morning dreading the next coming days; she was beginning to teach her classes, each one full of brand new students, and she had no idea what to expect from these children—her students. She dragged herself to the sink and washed up; continued by twisted her hair up into an elegant yet messy bun; then slipped on her robes for the day; finished by grabbing her wand, and headed out. Most nervously, she added.
She arrived on time at the Great Hall to spend her fifteen antisocial minutes eating, when she found that the entire school body seemed to be there. Suppressing a sigh, she walked in and sat down. Piling a little bit of food onto her plate, she ate rather nervously. Her stature and her view of her moves were very simplistic: she knew the students would view her as a pushover class and find that it would be easy to get her nerved and disrupted.
She glanced up, and saw the entire school body chatting aimlessly. A loud flutter of wings told her the Owl Post was here; her own owl, Sagittarius, was no where to be seen. She turned back to her food, which she found, was completely gone. Emilia had an excuse to leave. She backed her chair up—o
—right into Severus Snape. She had slammed the back of her chair right into his stomach, as he was walking by.
Wheezing, he managed to snarl, "Watch where you are backing up!"
Emilia stood up. "Watch where you're walking, then," she snapped, just as angrily.
He looked up at her, glaring furiously. "I just happened to be walking by when you back up you chair. How am I supposed to know a tramp like you would try to do that on purpose?!"
"Well," she sneered, "if I were a tramp, I wouldn't back up on you, of all people, you cold-hearted son of a—"
"That's enough!" a voice interrupted. It was Professor McGonagall. "Everyone is watching. Please, either stop or take this elsewhere!" she screeched. Anyone not watching before was now, and the entire room was in a murmured silence.
Emilia stood up straight and brushed off her robes. "I haven't anymore to say to this scum. Good day, McGonagall," she replied sarcastically, and walked out of the room. To her surprise, everyone started clapping loudly. Emilia glanced at Snape, whose cheeks were slightly pink. She didn't think men like that could ever be embarrassed. Laughing at the applause, she walked out of the room in worse spirits then she entered.
When she left the sight of the Great Hall, her shoulders slumped, and she walked a bit more slowly. Her stomach hurt, from the guilt of embarrassing Snape. It wasn't her nature to embarrass others, just put them in their place. And putting him in his place at the expense of his reputation among the students was rather wrong, she thought, looking back. And she couldn't justify it by saying, "Well, his did call me a tramp."
Walking into her classroom, which was situated on the third floor (as it always was), she walked down the stairs leading the head of the classroom. In thirty minutes, it would be filled with her first class, a group of Gryffindor fifth-years. She glanced up and down the room. In the middle of the room was a set of wide sweeping stairs blanketed in polished oak. The stairs lead to rows of one long desk, which was symmetrical to that on the right side. The head of the room held one rather small desk, which was organized with file-holders and file cabinets next to it. A grand blackboard decorated the space behind her, and to her left was a small table, where she planned to keep specimens of what she hoped were interesting creatures.
Students began to file into her classroom, taking random seats wherever they were available. Emilia walked over to her desk and sat down, piling her papers up. Soon, the room was full of abundant chatter. Standing up when the bell rang, she walked to the front of the room, to which was replied with silence. She cleared her throat. "Good Morning," she said brightly, "and welcome to your first Defense Against the Dark Arts Class.
"This year we will be finishing what Professor Moody had started, and then we will continue with Hexes and Jinxes, which should hopefully correspond with your Charms class. I'm warning you all now, at the end of the first term will be a paper that coincides with your Charms paper." She paused to hear groans from the class. It was to be expected. "You will have plenty of time, don't worry. And, I think you'll find this class rather interesting and fun, (so long as you do your homework and come prepared). I daresay, more fun, compared to Potions," she added wryly.
All of them laughed. One young gentleman stood up and said, "Hear, hear!", which made them all laugh even harder. It was quite wonderful, to hear children laugh. It reminded her how much she enjoyed teaching someone. It'd been a long time.
"So, with that, I should like to teach you a bit about the Reverse Spell Effect. This type of spell allows the wand to repeat the spell, incantation or whatnot again. This spell will cause your wand to betray you.
"Another thing to note about the Reverse Spell Effect is that there is a special bond between wands of the same core. This is known as Priori Incantatem, and anyone who was…killed…by that wand, memories or reflections of those people would appear. The spell itself, meaning the Reverse Spell Effect, is Prior Incantato!
"Is there anything else anyone can tell me?" she asked, almost hopefully.
A girl's hand raised dutifully in the air. "Yes, and you are…?" Emilia asked.
"Professor Black, I'm Hermione Granger," she said confidently, and continued, "and there is one more thing about the Reverse Spell Effect. It is useless against the reverse of Disarming and Stunning Spells."
Emilia nodded her consent. "Of course, Miss Granger. That is correct. Five points to Gryffindor," she said, smiling.
She pulled out her wand, and murmured, "Orchideous!" to which a bouquet of flowers emerged from the end of her wand. "Now, I shall demonstrate the Reverse Spell Effect," and turned to a boy in the front row to perform this. "Can I ask you your name, please?"
The boy had a round face and was rather bumbling for a fifth year. "Neville Longbottom, Professor," he replied quietly.
"All right then, Mr. Longbottom, please perform this spell," she asked.
Neville looked around the room, and then finally turned to the teacher. "I don't know—"
"I wouldn't let him near a wand with a fifty foot pole, if I were you, Black," a voice said from the top of the room.
"Pardon?" she said, looking up. It was Professor Snape, standing in the doorway, his back against the wall, and his arms crossed.
"You heard me," he replied, unfolding his arms and walking down with a stack of papers. He shoved them into her hands and turned around. "If the teachers haven't informed you yet, this is Neville Longbottom. I should trust you not to give him anything too difficult, unless you want half the building aflame."
"I think I can pick out my own opinions, Snape," she replied tersely, setting the paper packet onto her desk. "And don't interrupt my classes."
"These papers couldn't wait. Besides, it's not like you were hired for your competence."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Take it as you will, Professor," he sneered, implying her position as a joke, and walked out.
Emilia glared at his retreating back, and turn to Neville. "Don't worry about him, Longbottom, I'll talk to him later. You don't deserve that sort of mockery," she paused. "Anyway, would you like to perform the task?"
"Professor Snape's right," Neville Longbottom replied softly. "I don't think I can. Please, ask someone else."
Emilia furrowed her brow. He may act like that to his students in his class, but he did not have the right to do it in hers.
She turned to the sandy-haired boy sitting beside Neville. "I believe that you are Seamus Finnigan?" she asked. The boy nodded. "Please," she said, holding out her wand, "do the Reverse Spell Effect."
The freckled boy pulled out his wand, and said, "Prior Incantato!" to which a small bouquet of flowers burst out of the end of her wand.
"That's correct! Ten points to Gryffindor for such a grand demonstration. Now, I want all of you to take turns performing simple spells and testing out this new incantation." She gathered up the papers of names. "Now, I'll be pairing you up right now by names, until I've seen what you all can do, and then I'll start to pair you all up by ability.
"Now, let's see…Finnigan and Thomas…Longbottom and Granger…Patil and Brown…Potter and Weasley…" and she continued down the list, pairing up random names. "You have until five of. No serious spells, and if I see any fooling around, you'll be out of here faster than you can say, 'Detention', got it?"
The class paired up quickly, and began to perform the spells they were instructed. Hopefully, that smart Granger girl could show Longbottom a hint or two of confidence; she was quite sure that Snape was the root of his low competency.
She picked up the packet of papers that Snape couldn't wait to hand to her. It was a couple of important memos, and then there was a newspaper clipping. She absentmindedly placed the memos back on the table, and began to read the article.
Inquiry at the Ministry
At twelve o'clock noon yesterday, a non-magical person (commonly known as a Muggle) caught sight of Sirius Black just north of London, apparently near what we know as Diagon Alley. It appears he has tried to fix his appearance, but this Muggle phoned in anyway; by the time the Ministry arrived, Black was gone. We got sight of the Muggle, and asked for a comment.
"I never knew it was such a big deal," the Muggle says, "I just thought he looked familiar, but couldn't place it that a criminal could be so open about his whereabouts."
The Minister refuses to comment on the subject, but his correspondent says fiercely, "Black can't stand a chance; we'll catch him!"
Why did Sirius Black dare show himself around Muggles, especially in such a populated area? Assurance that he wouldn't be recognized? Until he is caught, it seems that the Ministry will start another thorough search.
Emilia gasped. No wonder why Snape was so keen on shoving his into her face as soon as possible. He wanted to see her reaction about this. He must think that they were related; how silly of him. Emilia's line was the mainstream line of his break off. She felt her blood boil; how dare he interrupt her class for this garbage?!
Emilia looked at the clock, and saw it was five after. "All right class, let's call it quits. You homework assignment is to find out who invented this spell and write about his other important accomplishments. That's all. Potter, see me after class," she said tersely, slamming the paper upon the table.
The class began to gather their books and quills, when one of the boys raised their hands. "Yes?"
"Was it you this morning, Professor, that stood up to Professor Snape?"
Emilia blinked. "Yes, of course. Why?"
The student grinned. "We're happy finally someone put Snape in his place."
Emilia looked up at him. "It was wrong of me to do that; it was setting a poor example for you students."
The class shook their heads enthusiastically. "Professor, we've been waiting for someone to do that!"
Emilia smiled wryly. "Just wait until you get to Potions," she said quietly. "You definitely won't be enjoying that class if I know Snape."
The bell rang, and it was the start of the next class. Emilia sighed. A skinny boy with rather untidy black hair walked up to her desk. "Professor Black?"
Emilia looked up at him. "Ah, yes, Potter. Professor Dumbledore asked me to give you some tips on the regular defense against the wonders of the Dark Arts," she said. "I daresay you need much help with that, eh?"
He grinned. "Of course, any help is great," he replied. "Professor Dumbledore talked to me yesterday about that. What time do you want me to come in?"
Emilia nodded. "Yes, that, let's see…" she rummaged through the pile of papers that lay there, and found her date-book. The newspaper clipping fell to the floor as she picked up the book.
He bent down and picked up the paper obligingly as she filed through the months to September. She heard an audible gasp.
Looking up quickly, she saw him place the article on the table quickly. "What?" she asked.
"Er, nothing Professor…" he said, and went rather red. Pausing for a moment, he blurted out, "Yes, there is something. Are you related to Sirius Black?"
"Heavens no, Potter. Not directly, anyway. I do believe our great- great-great grandmother married a Muggle, to which our families took different roads," she said quietly.
He lowered his head. "Sorry," he mumbled.
"No, I was quite expecting it," she laughed. "Nothing like being a Black to bring up questions like those." Or all those other questions. She pointed to Thursday. "Potter, I know you've got Quidditch practices coming up soon, but how about Thursdays, say, seven o'clock?"
"That's fine," he said quickly. "I've got to be going now. I've…I've got Potions," he added sourly.
"Yes, of course. Here, I'll write you a note," she said, taking the newspaper clipping and turning it over to the blank side. She scribbled an excuse to Snape, saying there was something she needed to discuss with Potter, and that was why he was late. She smiled. Down towards the bottom she added: "Snape, the joke's on you: I'm not related to Sirius at all, and if you do that again, I'll send straight for the Headmaster."
The next couple of classes went by quickly, she thought. Finally it was lunchtime, and she was dreading going down to the Great Hall. She didn't want to hear Snape. She could already formulate his words: "How dare you hold one of my students back?!" or about her 'threat': "Tell the Headmaster what? I sent you a newspaper clipping?"
Either way, it sounded silly. She wasn't even really that hungry. So she headed to the library to look up some defenses Potter could find useful.
She walked into the library to find that girl, Hermione Granger (wasn't it?), sitting there with a fairly large book. It was only their first day back, and she supposed Snape wouldn't pin that much homework on them. Or would he? He was one of those people to be really bad in foul moods. That made her feel guilty: she caused these students to have so much homework. And if that was the case, she wouldn't be much of a popular teacher. It would please her nothing more than to be better than Snape. In fact, it even made her laugh a bit. Snape certainly made himself to be quite a fearful teacher; Neville Longbottom happened to be the product of this.
She grazed over the many books that she could use, but none of them caught her eye. Emilia sighed. She'd probably have to search even further, and to her dismay, her stomach began to grumble quietly. Emilia was a bit hungrier then even she supposed.
Scowling slightly, she walked to the Great Hall. It was full of laughter and chatter, and this made her almost frown. She wasn't really in the mood for happiness. Emilia pulled up her seat and shoved a small helping onto her plate, eating quickly. Snape wasn't there. She didn't know whether or not he'd been there, or had yet to arrive. Either way, she didn't really want to stick around to find out or not.
A black figure was standing next to her, and it felt like a chill entered the room. Snape had pulled up his seat next to her. "Quite a nice note you sent me, Black," he sneered.
Emilia finished her bite, and swallowed—a bit harder than she would have liked. "By what do you mean, Snape?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Come to finish your conversation on why I wasn't hired for my competence? There's more of an audience here to hear your views."
Snape smirked. "Enjoyed that, did you? And what about you going to the Headmaster? For what, a bloody newspaper article?"
Emilia set down her fork. She didn't want the murder weapon in her hand when she was through with this conversation. "No. For one, you interrupted my class for no good reason. Secondly, you insulted me in front of the entire class. I don't know whether or not they understood what you said, but I did, and that counts more than the entire room. Thirdly, you make a complete biased accusation about the fact that Sirius and I happen to share the same last name. Can I count for you in the Muggle phonebook the number of Smiths that aren't related, except for the fact that they happen to share the same last name?"
His smirked broadened. "Tsk, Black, you've yet to understand my nature."
"What, you live on looking for ways to make an ass out of people?"
His black eyes narrowed. "Let's talk about this morning, shall we? I'm pretty sure I made it clear to all my classes the reason they have two essays due tomorrow is by all means thanks to you. Let's see your classes enjoy your teaching now."
Emilia sighed angrily, listening to him speak. "How dare you? How dare you pin your incompetence on your students, and blame your foul mood on me?!"
"I think I just did," he snarled, turning back to his food.
"Snape, you are a capital prick," she replied quietly. "If we weren't having this lovely conversation in the middle of the Great Hall, I'd have hexed you by now."
"Can you promise me this?" he replied dryly. "Upholding the Black tradition? You know, one wise man said those who can not think, fight."
Emilia raised her hand unconsciously. Without even proceeding to think, she had brought her hand down on his face, straight across the cheekbone, right where it stung the most. With tears in her eyes, she stormed out of the Great Hall wordlessly, ignoring all the penetrating stares. To her left, someone muttered, "I'm coming to mealtimes everyday. This is so cool!" Another one said, "I wonder who will win this fight? Mealtimes are getting pretty interesting."
Emilia turned the corner sharply, ripping her robe on the corner of the wall, cutting shallowly into her skin. She didn't care. She only wanted to walk as fast as she could out of there. As far away form Snape. How about Antarctica?
She kept on walking, until her legs burned from the pace she was forcing upon them. Her face was tear streaked, and yet she found it very consoling she was able to feel something.
She had finally been able to work where she was leading herself to, and saw it was her classroom on the third floor. She looked about the classroom, and suddenly, she realized, everything was much too neat. Emilia nearly had to physically restrain herself from smashing anything; she did, after all have classes in an hour. Instead, she walked down to her desk, put her head in her arms, and cried.
For the first time in her life, she cried about everything. She cried about the fact she was a Black, to the teachers' discrimination; from the loneliness she felt, to her past, and all the death and violence in between; from the nervousness of teaching to Snape's cruel comments and even cruder jokes. She positively bawled, crying into her arms like the could save her. Finally, after many minutes, she found she could not cry anymore. She raised her head to see a blurry classroom. Emilia suspected she looked affright, and got up, moved swiftly to the bathroom, and washed her face. She finally noticed the stabbing pain in her arm, and looked at it. It was sort of not noticeable, so she left it be. It was a reminder of the fact that she had just shown weakness…to the enemy. When she was satisfied she looked like herself, she came back into the classroom and prepared herself to teach.
She was expecting to see no one, so imagine the look of surprise on her face when she saw Snape lounging casually in her seat at her desk.
Oops, did I say romance? Sorry, I mean anything else "cool".
D/C: Don't even think about taking my spiffy song w/out asking me first! The sorting hat song in the last chapter, I mean. Anyhow, toodles, I don't own HP but I do own Emilia Black. ::smooches:: Bye!
Chapter Two: Lied
Emilia awoke the next morning dreading the next coming days; she was beginning to teach her classes, each one full of brand new students, and she had no idea what to expect from these children—her students. She dragged herself to the sink and washed up; continued by twisted her hair up into an elegant yet messy bun; then slipped on her robes for the day; finished by grabbing her wand, and headed out. Most nervously, she added.
She arrived on time at the Great Hall to spend her fifteen antisocial minutes eating, when she found that the entire school body seemed to be there. Suppressing a sigh, she walked in and sat down. Piling a little bit of food onto her plate, she ate rather nervously. Her stature and her view of her moves were very simplistic: she knew the students would view her as a pushover class and find that it would be easy to get her nerved and disrupted.
She glanced up, and saw the entire school body chatting aimlessly. A loud flutter of wings told her the Owl Post was here; her own owl, Sagittarius, was no where to be seen. She turned back to her food, which she found, was completely gone. Emilia had an excuse to leave. She backed her chair up—o
—right into Severus Snape. She had slammed the back of her chair right into his stomach, as he was walking by.
Wheezing, he managed to snarl, "Watch where you are backing up!"
Emilia stood up. "Watch where you're walking, then," she snapped, just as angrily.
He looked up at her, glaring furiously. "I just happened to be walking by when you back up you chair. How am I supposed to know a tramp like you would try to do that on purpose?!"
"Well," she sneered, "if I were a tramp, I wouldn't back up on you, of all people, you cold-hearted son of a—"
"That's enough!" a voice interrupted. It was Professor McGonagall. "Everyone is watching. Please, either stop or take this elsewhere!" she screeched. Anyone not watching before was now, and the entire room was in a murmured silence.
Emilia stood up straight and brushed off her robes. "I haven't anymore to say to this scum. Good day, McGonagall," she replied sarcastically, and walked out of the room. To her surprise, everyone started clapping loudly. Emilia glanced at Snape, whose cheeks were slightly pink. She didn't think men like that could ever be embarrassed. Laughing at the applause, she walked out of the room in worse spirits then she entered.
When she left the sight of the Great Hall, her shoulders slumped, and she walked a bit more slowly. Her stomach hurt, from the guilt of embarrassing Snape. It wasn't her nature to embarrass others, just put them in their place. And putting him in his place at the expense of his reputation among the students was rather wrong, she thought, looking back. And she couldn't justify it by saying, "Well, his did call me a tramp."
Walking into her classroom, which was situated on the third floor (as it always was), she walked down the stairs leading the head of the classroom. In thirty minutes, it would be filled with her first class, a group of Gryffindor fifth-years. She glanced up and down the room. In the middle of the room was a set of wide sweeping stairs blanketed in polished oak. The stairs lead to rows of one long desk, which was symmetrical to that on the right side. The head of the room held one rather small desk, which was organized with file-holders and file cabinets next to it. A grand blackboard decorated the space behind her, and to her left was a small table, where she planned to keep specimens of what she hoped were interesting creatures.
Students began to file into her classroom, taking random seats wherever they were available. Emilia walked over to her desk and sat down, piling her papers up. Soon, the room was full of abundant chatter. Standing up when the bell rang, she walked to the front of the room, to which was replied with silence. She cleared her throat. "Good Morning," she said brightly, "and welcome to your first Defense Against the Dark Arts Class.
"This year we will be finishing what Professor Moody had started, and then we will continue with Hexes and Jinxes, which should hopefully correspond with your Charms class. I'm warning you all now, at the end of the first term will be a paper that coincides with your Charms paper." She paused to hear groans from the class. It was to be expected. "You will have plenty of time, don't worry. And, I think you'll find this class rather interesting and fun, (so long as you do your homework and come prepared). I daresay, more fun, compared to Potions," she added wryly.
All of them laughed. One young gentleman stood up and said, "Hear, hear!", which made them all laugh even harder. It was quite wonderful, to hear children laugh. It reminded her how much she enjoyed teaching someone. It'd been a long time.
"So, with that, I should like to teach you a bit about the Reverse Spell Effect. This type of spell allows the wand to repeat the spell, incantation or whatnot again. This spell will cause your wand to betray you.
"Another thing to note about the Reverse Spell Effect is that there is a special bond between wands of the same core. This is known as Priori Incantatem, and anyone who was…killed…by that wand, memories or reflections of those people would appear. The spell itself, meaning the Reverse Spell Effect, is Prior Incantato!
"Is there anything else anyone can tell me?" she asked, almost hopefully.
A girl's hand raised dutifully in the air. "Yes, and you are…?" Emilia asked.
"Professor Black, I'm Hermione Granger," she said confidently, and continued, "and there is one more thing about the Reverse Spell Effect. It is useless against the reverse of Disarming and Stunning Spells."
Emilia nodded her consent. "Of course, Miss Granger. That is correct. Five points to Gryffindor," she said, smiling.
She pulled out her wand, and murmured, "Orchideous!" to which a bouquet of flowers emerged from the end of her wand. "Now, I shall demonstrate the Reverse Spell Effect," and turned to a boy in the front row to perform this. "Can I ask you your name, please?"
The boy had a round face and was rather bumbling for a fifth year. "Neville Longbottom, Professor," he replied quietly.
"All right then, Mr. Longbottom, please perform this spell," she asked.
Neville looked around the room, and then finally turned to the teacher. "I don't know—"
"I wouldn't let him near a wand with a fifty foot pole, if I were you, Black," a voice said from the top of the room.
"Pardon?" she said, looking up. It was Professor Snape, standing in the doorway, his back against the wall, and his arms crossed.
"You heard me," he replied, unfolding his arms and walking down with a stack of papers. He shoved them into her hands and turned around. "If the teachers haven't informed you yet, this is Neville Longbottom. I should trust you not to give him anything too difficult, unless you want half the building aflame."
"I think I can pick out my own opinions, Snape," she replied tersely, setting the paper packet onto her desk. "And don't interrupt my classes."
"These papers couldn't wait. Besides, it's not like you were hired for your competence."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Take it as you will, Professor," he sneered, implying her position as a joke, and walked out.
Emilia glared at his retreating back, and turn to Neville. "Don't worry about him, Longbottom, I'll talk to him later. You don't deserve that sort of mockery," she paused. "Anyway, would you like to perform the task?"
"Professor Snape's right," Neville Longbottom replied softly. "I don't think I can. Please, ask someone else."
Emilia furrowed her brow. He may act like that to his students in his class, but he did not have the right to do it in hers.
She turned to the sandy-haired boy sitting beside Neville. "I believe that you are Seamus Finnigan?" she asked. The boy nodded. "Please," she said, holding out her wand, "do the Reverse Spell Effect."
The freckled boy pulled out his wand, and said, "Prior Incantato!" to which a small bouquet of flowers burst out of the end of her wand.
"That's correct! Ten points to Gryffindor for such a grand demonstration. Now, I want all of you to take turns performing simple spells and testing out this new incantation." She gathered up the papers of names. "Now, I'll be pairing you up right now by names, until I've seen what you all can do, and then I'll start to pair you all up by ability.
"Now, let's see…Finnigan and Thomas…Longbottom and Granger…Patil and Brown…Potter and Weasley…" and she continued down the list, pairing up random names. "You have until five of. No serious spells, and if I see any fooling around, you'll be out of here faster than you can say, 'Detention', got it?"
The class paired up quickly, and began to perform the spells they were instructed. Hopefully, that smart Granger girl could show Longbottom a hint or two of confidence; she was quite sure that Snape was the root of his low competency.
She picked up the packet of papers that Snape couldn't wait to hand to her. It was a couple of important memos, and then there was a newspaper clipping. She absentmindedly placed the memos back on the table, and began to read the article.
Inquiry at the Ministry
At twelve o'clock noon yesterday, a non-magical person (commonly known as a Muggle) caught sight of Sirius Black just north of London, apparently near what we know as Diagon Alley. It appears he has tried to fix his appearance, but this Muggle phoned in anyway; by the time the Ministry arrived, Black was gone. We got sight of the Muggle, and asked for a comment.
"I never knew it was such a big deal," the Muggle says, "I just thought he looked familiar, but couldn't place it that a criminal could be so open about his whereabouts."
The Minister refuses to comment on the subject, but his correspondent says fiercely, "Black can't stand a chance; we'll catch him!"
Why did Sirius Black dare show himself around Muggles, especially in such a populated area? Assurance that he wouldn't be recognized? Until he is caught, it seems that the Ministry will start another thorough search.
Emilia gasped. No wonder why Snape was so keen on shoving his into her face as soon as possible. He wanted to see her reaction about this. He must think that they were related; how silly of him. Emilia's line was the mainstream line of his break off. She felt her blood boil; how dare he interrupt her class for this garbage?!
Emilia looked at the clock, and saw it was five after. "All right class, let's call it quits. You homework assignment is to find out who invented this spell and write about his other important accomplishments. That's all. Potter, see me after class," she said tersely, slamming the paper upon the table.
The class began to gather their books and quills, when one of the boys raised their hands. "Yes?"
"Was it you this morning, Professor, that stood up to Professor Snape?"
Emilia blinked. "Yes, of course. Why?"
The student grinned. "We're happy finally someone put Snape in his place."
Emilia looked up at him. "It was wrong of me to do that; it was setting a poor example for you students."
The class shook their heads enthusiastically. "Professor, we've been waiting for someone to do that!"
Emilia smiled wryly. "Just wait until you get to Potions," she said quietly. "You definitely won't be enjoying that class if I know Snape."
The bell rang, and it was the start of the next class. Emilia sighed. A skinny boy with rather untidy black hair walked up to her desk. "Professor Black?"
Emilia looked up at him. "Ah, yes, Potter. Professor Dumbledore asked me to give you some tips on the regular defense against the wonders of the Dark Arts," she said. "I daresay you need much help with that, eh?"
He grinned. "Of course, any help is great," he replied. "Professor Dumbledore talked to me yesterday about that. What time do you want me to come in?"
Emilia nodded. "Yes, that, let's see…" she rummaged through the pile of papers that lay there, and found her date-book. The newspaper clipping fell to the floor as she picked up the book.
He bent down and picked up the paper obligingly as she filed through the months to September. She heard an audible gasp.
Looking up quickly, she saw him place the article on the table quickly. "What?" she asked.
"Er, nothing Professor…" he said, and went rather red. Pausing for a moment, he blurted out, "Yes, there is something. Are you related to Sirius Black?"
"Heavens no, Potter. Not directly, anyway. I do believe our great- great-great grandmother married a Muggle, to which our families took different roads," she said quietly.
He lowered his head. "Sorry," he mumbled.
"No, I was quite expecting it," she laughed. "Nothing like being a Black to bring up questions like those." Or all those other questions. She pointed to Thursday. "Potter, I know you've got Quidditch practices coming up soon, but how about Thursdays, say, seven o'clock?"
"That's fine," he said quickly. "I've got to be going now. I've…I've got Potions," he added sourly.
"Yes, of course. Here, I'll write you a note," she said, taking the newspaper clipping and turning it over to the blank side. She scribbled an excuse to Snape, saying there was something she needed to discuss with Potter, and that was why he was late. She smiled. Down towards the bottom she added: "Snape, the joke's on you: I'm not related to Sirius at all, and if you do that again, I'll send straight for the Headmaster."
The next couple of classes went by quickly, she thought. Finally it was lunchtime, and she was dreading going down to the Great Hall. She didn't want to hear Snape. She could already formulate his words: "How dare you hold one of my students back?!" or about her 'threat': "Tell the Headmaster what? I sent you a newspaper clipping?"
Either way, it sounded silly. She wasn't even really that hungry. So she headed to the library to look up some defenses Potter could find useful.
She walked into the library to find that girl, Hermione Granger (wasn't it?), sitting there with a fairly large book. It was only their first day back, and she supposed Snape wouldn't pin that much homework on them. Or would he? He was one of those people to be really bad in foul moods. That made her feel guilty: she caused these students to have so much homework. And if that was the case, she wouldn't be much of a popular teacher. It would please her nothing more than to be better than Snape. In fact, it even made her laugh a bit. Snape certainly made himself to be quite a fearful teacher; Neville Longbottom happened to be the product of this.
She grazed over the many books that she could use, but none of them caught her eye. Emilia sighed. She'd probably have to search even further, and to her dismay, her stomach began to grumble quietly. Emilia was a bit hungrier then even she supposed.
Scowling slightly, she walked to the Great Hall. It was full of laughter and chatter, and this made her almost frown. She wasn't really in the mood for happiness. Emilia pulled up her seat and shoved a small helping onto her plate, eating quickly. Snape wasn't there. She didn't know whether or not he'd been there, or had yet to arrive. Either way, she didn't really want to stick around to find out or not.
A black figure was standing next to her, and it felt like a chill entered the room. Snape had pulled up his seat next to her. "Quite a nice note you sent me, Black," he sneered.
Emilia finished her bite, and swallowed—a bit harder than she would have liked. "By what do you mean, Snape?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Come to finish your conversation on why I wasn't hired for my competence? There's more of an audience here to hear your views."
Snape smirked. "Enjoyed that, did you? And what about you going to the Headmaster? For what, a bloody newspaper article?"
Emilia set down her fork. She didn't want the murder weapon in her hand when she was through with this conversation. "No. For one, you interrupted my class for no good reason. Secondly, you insulted me in front of the entire class. I don't know whether or not they understood what you said, but I did, and that counts more than the entire room. Thirdly, you make a complete biased accusation about the fact that Sirius and I happen to share the same last name. Can I count for you in the Muggle phonebook the number of Smiths that aren't related, except for the fact that they happen to share the same last name?"
His smirked broadened. "Tsk, Black, you've yet to understand my nature."
"What, you live on looking for ways to make an ass out of people?"
His black eyes narrowed. "Let's talk about this morning, shall we? I'm pretty sure I made it clear to all my classes the reason they have two essays due tomorrow is by all means thanks to you. Let's see your classes enjoy your teaching now."
Emilia sighed angrily, listening to him speak. "How dare you? How dare you pin your incompetence on your students, and blame your foul mood on me?!"
"I think I just did," he snarled, turning back to his food.
"Snape, you are a capital prick," she replied quietly. "If we weren't having this lovely conversation in the middle of the Great Hall, I'd have hexed you by now."
"Can you promise me this?" he replied dryly. "Upholding the Black tradition? You know, one wise man said those who can not think, fight."
Emilia raised her hand unconsciously. Without even proceeding to think, she had brought her hand down on his face, straight across the cheekbone, right where it stung the most. With tears in her eyes, she stormed out of the Great Hall wordlessly, ignoring all the penetrating stares. To her left, someone muttered, "I'm coming to mealtimes everyday. This is so cool!" Another one said, "I wonder who will win this fight? Mealtimes are getting pretty interesting."
Emilia turned the corner sharply, ripping her robe on the corner of the wall, cutting shallowly into her skin. She didn't care. She only wanted to walk as fast as she could out of there. As far away form Snape. How about Antarctica?
She kept on walking, until her legs burned from the pace she was forcing upon them. Her face was tear streaked, and yet she found it very consoling she was able to feel something.
She had finally been able to work where she was leading herself to, and saw it was her classroom on the third floor. She looked about the classroom, and suddenly, she realized, everything was much too neat. Emilia nearly had to physically restrain herself from smashing anything; she did, after all have classes in an hour. Instead, she walked down to her desk, put her head in her arms, and cried.
For the first time in her life, she cried about everything. She cried about the fact she was a Black, to the teachers' discrimination; from the loneliness she felt, to her past, and all the death and violence in between; from the nervousness of teaching to Snape's cruel comments and even cruder jokes. She positively bawled, crying into her arms like the could save her. Finally, after many minutes, she found she could not cry anymore. She raised her head to see a blurry classroom. Emilia suspected she looked affright, and got up, moved swiftly to the bathroom, and washed her face. She finally noticed the stabbing pain in her arm, and looked at it. It was sort of not noticeable, so she left it be. It was a reminder of the fact that she had just shown weakness…to the enemy. When she was satisfied she looked like herself, she came back into the classroom and prepared herself to teach.
She was expecting to see no one, so imagine the look of surprise on her face when she saw Snape lounging casually in her seat at her desk.