With a reluctant sigh, he turned back to the Sports page, grimacing at the picture of Harry Potter in his green Cardiff Dragons robes triumphantly capturing the Snitch and grinning at the adoration of the crowd, carefree as could be.
Three damn years of killings and darkness and he yet will keep his own eyes closed. Stupid, blind, arrogant boy: he'll get himself killed just as his father did, he thought. Tosca crowed happily over the Falmouth Falcons beating the Manchester Magnificents.
Then she sighed and her tone sobered as she said, May as well get it over with, Severus. He turned to the Deaths section, both of them studying with a wince the names on the black-bordered page. Hardly a week went by without five or ten deaths to report, despite the best efforts of spies all over Europe.
Voldemort had become wise when he realized much of his quarry was escaping and had quickly figured that spies were saving their lives. So much of the discussion and revelation of the victims at gatherings of the Death Eaters had been eliminated. The Death Eaters had turned from rattlesnakes giving a rattle in warning to cobras giving a silent and sudden strike.
It would have been disheartening to others, but grimly he and Tosca plowed on, saving those who they could and quietly grieving those whose names hadn't reached their ears. They had saved twenty this past year--twenty who would have otherwise be reduced to a small blurb and a photograph of happier times on the Deaths page.
There were three today. The names seared into his mind. Berea al Amini, widow of the late Minister of International Relations for the Middle East sector. They had caught her husband two months ago and just now finished the job with her. She had been only twenty; had graduated Hogwarts with Potter and the rest, from Hufflepuff. There was also Jasper Hampton, an Auror. And Igor Karkaroff. He smiled a little sadly at that. He finally caught up with you, Igor. Voldemort was nothing if not patient with his quarry--it had taken six years to find Karkaroff, and apparently had caught up with him in a small Russian Muggle village.
He put the newspaper away and got to his feet wearily. A staff meeting was being held now summer was almost over to find a replacement for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, as well as Astronomy. Janney had suffered a nervous breakdown when Voldemort turned up the heat, and declared himself unable to handle the task. He hadn't been in the field since the battle against Rasputin almost ninety years before. And Sinistra…Cassiopeia Sinistra's face had been among those on the Deaths page a week before. Hogwarts was on high alert, with all the teachers and high-risk students (Muggle-borns, children of Aurors and Ministry workers, and the like) being made to stay at Hogwarts over the summer if possible, and for those that insisted on leaving, being put under enough wards on their home to break open Gringott's. Sinistra had been careless, somehow.
Wearily the staff filed into the room Dumbledore held meetings in, and he took his usual chair by the door for quick retreat as soon as it was over. All eyes were carefully averted from Sinistra's chair, standing glumly and accusingly vacant. Janney had agreed to be in the selection to choose his successor, but that ended, he had declared, his responsibilities.
Draco Malfoy gave him a nod and a small smile from his seat, a shadow of worry in his silvery-blue eyes. Snape knew what the young man was thinking, as he knew the same deep inside--if even quiet Sinistra who gave the Dark Lord no offense or cause was slated for death, people like himself and Draco were walking around with the equivalent of an enormous death's-head upon them.
Dumbledore passed around five scrolls to each of them. Sibyl Trelawny was the first to state the obvious. "These," she said, her airy-fairy voice gone serious for a moment, "are all for the Astronomy post."
"They're too frightened," Minerva said, with a soft sigh. They all could remember days only a few years ago when a DADA vacancy produced thirty applicants or more. But to take up such a vital position now put one immediately on Voldemort's high hit list.
Snape tried to catch Dumbledore's eye to volunteer himself to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. He had settled long ago for Potions, and found his happiness there, his niche and talent. But if nobody were willing to risk his or her own life to teach how to fight Voldemort, he'd do it. One more reason for Voldemort to kill him was no bother, really. If the Dark Lord ever caught him, he'd be able to pick and choose at will why to ensure his slow and painful death.
However, Dumbledore gave him a quick smile and a shake of his head, telling him that he had a solution. "I would like you to turn your attention to the second applicant."
Draco spoke up. "Granger?" He sounded surprised for a moment. "She's got an honors degree in Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts, and graduated the London Auror's Academy, and she wants to teach Astronomy?"
"Agreed, Draco," Dumbledore said calmly. "I had sent Fawkes to her with a message once we were aware we had--vacancies," he said the word with difficulty. "I believe you'd all agree she'd make an excellent teacher." General murmurs of approval went around. "However, I had hoped to guide her to apply for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position."
Snape smiled a little. The girl wouldn't dare dream of taking up such a vital position: the very idea would make her protest and offer up people she thought much more qualified. He and Draco exchanged a look though, agreeing silently with Dumbledore's assessment of her ability to teach DADA. Dumbledore knew about her qualifications, of course. Draco knew now about Snape's Animagus ability, and Hermione's, since it was intrinsically tied into his own life and turn from the darkness. Snape and Dumbledore had informed him two years before. The rest of the staff, though, had nary a clue.
Sprout spoke up in bewilderment. "Sir, she's very well versed in the theory of DADA, but don't we need somebody with experience right now?"
Dumbledore cleared his throat. "I am not at liberty to discuss details, but I might tell you that in the past few years, she had been of great assistance to the Ministry and has gained more than her share of practical knowledge of fighting the Dark Arts."
The Headmaster's word was good enough for them, apparently. They all trusted him implicitly, for their own various reasons. And they understood the details being classified--much was unspeakable these days about the war.
"I just hope she's prepared for it," Flitwick said, shaking his head a little sadly.
In short order, Callisto Mycenae was also approved as the Astronomy teacher. With that, the meeting ended and a farewell was said to Janney. It was a month until the school year began now. Snape, Draco, and Dumbledore were the last to leave the room.
"Sir?" Snape said casually. "Might I send Tosca with the letter? I believe she'd enjoy seeing Miss Granger again."
Dumbledore gave him a smile. "Certainly."
"Sir?" Draco asked. "Do you honestly think she'll handle it?"
"I think," Dumbledore said, pushing in his chair and looking at both of them with clear blue eyes, "she will rise to the challenge as she has always done." With that, he turned to go to his office and write the employment offers to Hermione and Callisto.
Hermione was in her bedroom at home the next day reading an advanced text on Illusions. It had truly been a fascinating class, albeit one that saw her completely exhausted in the evening from the magical energy required to practice Illusions for three hours.
Just then, there was the whisper of wings coming through her open window, and she looked up in surprise to see Tosca perching gracefully on her footboard. "Tosca!" she said happily. She hadn't seen the gyrfalcon in three years, since leaving Hogwarts. "Why are you here?" A dire thought came immediately to mind. "He's all right, isn't he?"
Tosca gave a chuckle and dropped the scroll in her beak. Oh, have no worries, my friend. He's as sarcastic and brilliant as ever. I'm actually bringing you a message from the Headmaster, but Fawkes was occupied taking a message off elsewhere, so I got volunteered. She didn't sound too annoyed at carrying the message though.
Hermione reached out and took hold of it. She had applied for the Astronomy position almost a month ago, and this was perhaps Professor Dumbledore's answer. She opened the sealed scroll, read it, and was shocked.
"They want me to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts? No, there has to be somebody better…" she protested, looking at Tosca.
Hey, don't ask me. I wasn't at the meeting! Tosca sighed and said confidingly, Though Severus tells me that there were five applicants. They were all for Astronomy, too. They're practically begging you to take the post, Hermione. You're more qualified than the dreck they've had to rely on these past few years. You know Voldemort and his Death Eaters, and you have the courage to do this. It's no mistake.
"I see. Did Snape approve?"
Assuredly. He and Draco spent dinner reassuring everybody else about your selection. Ha, bet you didn't see that! Malfoy's become rather different, you know, now that he's not acting up. Still a bit of an arrogant piece of work, but…well, you'll see for yourself. Won't you? she added casually.
Hermione laughed. "Well, the Ministry accepted me as an Auror."
Yes, but you'll be able to resume spying if you teach, which is more valuable than being Killing Curse fodder.
"I know. Of course I'll take the post. Do you want to just tell Professor Snape that, or shall I write something for you to give the Headmaster?"
Might be preferable to write it, Tosca said. And you can call him Severus, you know.
Hermione smiled a little to remember those few months of the name sticking on her tongue when she had played the part of Musetta. Hopefully she'd get used to it now. The idea of it was still a daze, but she was thrilled at Hogwarts putting so much trust in her.
The first thing she did while fishing about the study for paper and pen was tell her parents when they came to see what had her flying about like a whirling dervish. "They want me to teach at Hogwarts!"
"That's wonderful," her father said softly. He gave her a small smile. "We always knew you'd be every bit as good as the children born to magic." But there was the sadness in his tone she had come to associate with them realizing that she was growing up and moving away from them into a world they could never understand or be a part of.
Still, they had come to realize that she had to be her own person in these past few years, and although they still weren't overjoyed with losing her bit by bit to magic, they had come to terms with it, so long as she had promised to at least come back and visit.
Her mother asked her to explain what she had been hired for, and she tried to explain it as best she could, without giving them idea of the war against Voldemort. It was too complex, too dark for those not of the magic world to comprehend. But the fumbling to explain and protect them make her feel the widening gap between them even more, and it wasn't without sadness that she recognized it again. A little more sedately, she headed upstairs.
As soon as Hermione was out the door, Tosca called, Hey! Crookshanks! The ginger cat slunk out of his kitty bed in the corner and eyed her sleepily.
Tosca! he seemed to immediately wake up. What are you doing here?
Hermione's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for next year, she said cheerfully.
Crookshanks swished his tail happily from side to side, a somewhat odd habit with him. Well, maybe there's another chance for those two. He's still unmated, right?
Tosca gave a snort. Quite. Approaching forty-one. I tell you, I've been trying for eleven years.
A war isn't perhaps the best time for matchmaking.
It's probably now or never, Crookshanks. And some of the best matches came out of times of strife, eh? Besides, what else can you and I do against Voldemort besides see to their well-being? she pointed out reasonably. Well, I can carry some messages, but otherwise, all we can do is make sure they're happy and able to go spy. What better way to do that than try to get them together? So we underestimated the timeframe before. Won't do that again.
Crookshanks laughed. All right, all right.
Just then, Hermione came back in with paper and a pen, scribbling a quick note, Charming it so that only Dumbledore could open it, and handing it to Tosca. "There you are. See you when I arrive in Hogsmeade!" she said cheerfully, seeing the falcon to the window. "Give him my regards!"
Tosca nodded and flew towards Hogwarts, feeling relieved. She and Crookshanks had a second chance now.