A Push In The Right Direction

DISCLAIMER: YOU KNOW THE DRILL TO J.K WHAT IS HERS AND TO ME, MY CHARACTERS AND PLOT. NO MONET BEING MADE!!!!

That morning she woke with a renewal of energy. Today was her first day of class. The morning seemed to fly away before she even realized. With gathering her things, bidding Remus a far-well, and catching a bite, Naria felt that no more than ten minutes had past as she entered her class room when more than three hours had.

For the first time, she surveyed her classroom. Her desk sat at the front of the room and next to it sat a chalkboard. In front of her desk were banks of seating along the sides leaving and area open in the middle of the classroom.

This classroom brought back a memory or two. Professor Inheayis had taught Spells when she had been a girl. It had always been one of Naria's more enjoyable classes. She had had some special aptitude in this class and had been promoted to the sixth year class for fifth year was mainly for getting used to the idea that magic could be done with out tools on a regular basis. Even in the sixth year class she had fast overshadowed most of the class and at the end of the year she had been first in her year and in the sixth year classes as well.

She remembered the ease in which free style magic came to her. The ability to call things to herself had always been rather easy and that was the type of thing that mainly fifth years did. The week she had spent in the class had felt like she was back in her first year and had turned to trouble making. Luckily for her, the teacher had not seen this as most would, but had rather seen it as the call for help. Her boredom had been suffocating her in the class and the teacher saw the truth. Naria silently wished she could be as perceptive a teacher as Professor Inheayis.

Ex-Auror Sojair knew that her aptitude with spells was unique. It was an upper level class and even those in it were hard pressed to master it. Though Naria put little stock in Divinations, Spells was akin to the subject in as much that the students needed some natural abilities in the subject to succeed in it even just a little. Many powerful wizards and witches had little hope when it came to mastering this difficult subject. That being the case, Hogwarts still taught the subject to every incoming fifth year student, but beyond fifth year the students had to show aptitude or they would find their time wasted in the class. Professor Sojair appreciated the fact that they did require it of fifth years. She may have to be less stanch on grading, but it was a valuable experience even to those who were not truly gifted in it. Those who could remember even the most basic lessons found it useful. For example, Naria had known Aurors who were separated from their wands and though they were not far away, they had been able to call them to themselves, thus not perishing in the battle that had originally separate them from their wand. These Aurors were of course in the minority. Most people become frustrated by spells and quickly forget even those basic lessons, which ever witch and wizard should be able to succeed at, lest they be squib.

With purpose she moved to the front of the room and to her desk. She placed her things down on the desk and made it her own. Her quill, she placed on the desk and a roll of parchment; upon this roll of parchment was the names of her first class. She had been happily surprised that her first class would be with the Gryffindor fifth-years. Placing a few more things from her case out she surveyed her new space. She knew there was a side office that was to be her office, but she just had not gotten that room into a state of order.

Next, Naria's attention went to her lesson plan.

After the end of breakfast a few students began to pile into her class and with in five minutes it was nearly filled. And as the bell rang the last few students filed into the room. She let them retrieve their things, parchment, quills, and most pulled out their wands. She made her way to the front and began.

"Morning, class. My name is Professor Sojair," with that statement she magicked a chalk into action without a wand. As the name was scrawled onto the board in cursive. Naria continued. "As I'm certain you all know. this is Spells."

As Naria announced the name of her class one last student came into the classroom. She knew who this boy was just from the description Remus had given her. "Neville.?"

"Sorry, Professor. I got lost."

"Very ease to understand. Please, in the future, arrive on time," she said to the boy with a gentle smile on her face. She was aware of how Snape treated this boy and she felt that extending a little more patience and understanding would be in order. "As I was saying, my name is Professor Sojair and I will be your Spells teacher through your exploration of how magic can be used in a slightly more abstract context. If you have a wand out on your desk could you please raise your hand." A good half or more of the class raised their hands. "Among those who have they're hands raised could you tell me when we will be using those wands in class?"

"For Spells Professor," answered a boy named Dean.

"Now those who do not have their wands out, could you please tell me why that is?"

Immediately Hermione Granger raised her hand high in the air. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Spells is the study of magic that is preformed with out devices that hone ones magical power," the girl answered rather proud of herself.

"Correct. Ten points to Gryffindor. Now then I could not have stated that better myself. So every one who has their wands out would you please put them away. We won't be using them in this class so it is not necessary for you bring them here.

"Through out this year I will be introducing you to the basics of Spells and how they are preformed. Now then does any one know any Spells?'

Again Hermione raised her hand, but she also noticed Neville uncertainly raise his hand into the air. She called on Neville rather than Hermione. "Yes, Neville?"

"Well. well.the Aceshio spell," the boy answered uncertainly.

"What does the Aceshio spell do?"

"It.it.it is equivalent to the Accio charm. It calls things to you."

"Can you demonstrate this spell?"

"Y. ye. yes, Professor Sojair," Neville said his voice becoming even less confident, if that was possible. He stood up and focused on a book on the other side of the room, "Aceshio Book." With his out stretched hand the book came to him. Naria could tell that he was as surprised as anyone else that this had actually worked.

"Very good, Neville. Ten points to Gryffindor." As the boy sat down, back in his embarrassed state she continued, "Now then anyone else?"

This time people were more confident and began to raise their hands. Towards the end of their time together Naria again brought the class to a focus. "Spells are very advanced magic. That is part of the reason only fifth years and above study them. They give you far more latitude than Charms, but they also have their drawbacks. They have their own unique dangers. For one, they can completely drain you if you do not know what you are doing. Through out this year we will learn the fine art of spell casting. When to and when not to use them. And most importantly, the correct way to use them.

"Now then, I know you all hate it, but I think as a teacher I have the duty to assign a bit of home work, so I will," with that there was an erg from the class, "But I will give you this reprieve, most of this class will be in class work so as long as you a pay attention in class I am certain you will get all and more from this class.

"Right, Homework? I want a single roll essay on the basics of spells and another on the inherent danger of spell casting," with that there was another erg, "Due on the next class."

"Also next class we will begin double sessions with the Slytherin fifth years," again an erg. "Well, I do believe the bell will be ring so off you go," Naria ended her class.

-=(^)=-

"At least she's nice," Ron said.

"The Slytherins won't be," Harry pointed out.

"Two rolls of parchment?" said Dean exasperated to Neville. Neville, however, seemed not to care so much about that.

"She treated me as if I wasn't Squib."

"That's because you aren't a Squib, Neville," Hermione interjected. She hated the way he was bullied by Snape. Neville may not be as talented as some of the others students, but she knew Neville would find his place.

"Nearly," he said a tad defiantly.

As he finished his statement the Professor's voice called from thee classroom, "Oh, wait. Neville could I have a word with you?"

Neville turned and returned to classroom a stripe of color blazed his cheek. "Yes, Professor?" his voice came, again in its unsteady timber.

"Neville, I overheard your conversation in the hall."

"Yes, Pro.Professor Sojair," he was now certainly embarrassed.

"Would you please sit?" Naria said quietly, indicating a chair by her desk. As she looked at the boy who refused to meet her eyes she then decided to see if she make the atmosphere a tad social. "Tea?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

With that Naria summed her kettle and prepared a spot of tea for herself and the boy. As she sat down and handed him his cup, she asked what had been on her mind, "Do you really believe that?"

"Do I really believe what, Ma'am?"

"That you are a Squib," Naria clarified and then sipped her tea.

Neville hesitated before he answered, "Yes." As soon as his answer had escaped his lips his eyes went down trodden again. "I'm told so every day and so far it seems to be true."

"I want to know who calls you that."

"Every lesson, Snape practically yells it to the class. He practically announces that I'll never be talented at anything. That I'm destine to be Filch. He's not the only teacher that thinks so. Other say it in fewer words, but I know that's what they think. They either give me easier tasks or they shake their heads at my failures. That's all they see when they look at me and that's all you will see eventually when you look at me," it all came pouring out. It seemed to be that Neville had held this in for far longer than any one should.

"Professor Snape. Neville, I want you to ignore what Snape says about you. It isn't his place. And I want to tell you something. You are anything, but Squib. You showed that today. Maybe your skills simply lay in Spells. All wizards have their skills. Some never master Spells and others. it's their only talent. I can see talent in you, Neville. You simply need discover what that talent is for yourself. One day I know you will be a skilled wizard and you will have your strengths. I also know they will always over shadow your weaknesses and you must remember. we all have them. I my self could never understand divination. It seemed to me they were making it all up. That you simply predict the worst and see what sort of shock value you get." As she was speaking, Naria silently wondered to herself if his lack of aptitude for magic others mastered so easily was because of the traumatic events in his life.

Neville noticed the soft smile that spread across her face. He noticed the twinkle in her eye and the truth seemed to be what she had said, or at least he thought so.

"Thank you, Professor Sojair."

"Of course. If you ever need to talk my door is all ways open. Now then I do believe it is lunchtime. If you don't want to miss it, of you go."

"Ma'am, I heard. I heard a.a.a rumor," Neville stuttered.

"I'm not generally in support of rumormongering, Neville, but what did you hear?" she asked as she looked down upon him.

"That. that you knew my parents," he looked back down at his feet. His voice was chocked. He wanted to say so much, but it simply wouldn't come.

"It is true. I knew your father from my work with the Ministry," she answered quietly. She remained reserved to this weighted question.

"What. what were they like? I mean, what were they like before.before. Well before you know?" Neville said quietly. No longer did he keep his eyes down trodden, but rather he met her gaze evenly. There was a strange determined quality in his gaze. They glinted with tears that had sparkled down the boys face. So long he had wanted to know that, which no other could or would tell him. His gaze held her where she sat, demanding an answer.

"Your. your father was a good man. He saw Voldemort for what he was before any other. He also paid unduly for that. He. he was very perceptive. I don't know as much about your mother. I do however know one thing. your father loved her very much." Neville looked up at her again, but what would be said would not leave his lips. "Now then I think that's enough today," Naria's eyes then looked upon her watch. "Its rather late, most of the food will be gone. Do you want me to conjure something up for lunch? It would be a pity to have to wait till dinner for food, especially since you have potions."

"Thank you, Ma'am," Neville said absent-mindedly. With that she magicked a plate of sandwiches for the two of them to share. She noticed how he hardly ate a bite, but she could understand. Neville's thoughts weighed heavily on him.

-=(^)=-

Neville remembered that night all to well. He had been only one, but the screams resonated through his mind. First his mother. Hers were probably the worst. He remembered as she pleaded for help and for mercy. He remembered this only egged them on. He saw and he heard. The howls were probably the worst thing he had ever heard.

When it was over Neville was left to his grandmother and his parents to mental ward. They had been driven insane by the Crucio Curse and they would never be the same thing.

-=(^)=-

Naria looked at the boy. He was so engrossed in thought, engrossed in memory. Naria watched as his eyes glazed over.

-=(^)=-

"Help me. Help me," she scream. Again and again, she screams. The piercing scream cutting through the night.

-=(^)=-

She shook him hard. This was becoming dangerous, "Neville. Neville."

The boy looked up at her, disturbed. A soft stream of tears ran down his face. The glisten down his face, a bright streak of shining, glinting light.

"Tell me."

He looked at her unable to speak or unwilling to speak. He stood up promptly and spoke, "Sorry I have detained you, Professor Sojair."

As the boy left Naria called back to him, "Remember, my door is open. "

-=(^)=-

That evening she was still consumed with what had been said. Neville should have never been separated from his parents, just like a hundred or more other children, as well. She hated the man responsible for that more than she had ever despised another. Voldemort was an evil man and now he was on the rise again.

She knew where she stood. She had always known, when it came to this most basic and most complicated of decisions, where she stood. She knew that when it came time either take a stand or step into line she knew she would make a stand. She knew that no matter, what, she had seen the truth of Voldemort. She knew the evil the man and his supports were capable of and she knew the price for not standing up, just as she knew the price for standing up, but comparatively and humanly speaking the price of ones soul is worth more than one's life. The price of being cursed would always be worse than death.

She had once wondered where she would stand. That had been during her days at Hogwarts. She knew that she probably would not fold, but she would never be certain. After that first day on the job, her position had been secured. She knew what they were capable of, things she would never be able to do. She was fundamentally different from these people. She knew the value of life and limb. She also valued sentient life with a reverence they seemed to not understand, Muggle and Wizard alike.

She also knew resistance was possible. She had resisted even with one of the unforgivable curses upon her, directing her actions. She had resisted and fought. She had escaped once before. She had not turned, nor had she done what could not be said even when she should not have been under her control. At that moment, her resolve had almost failed her. She had wondered whether anything could really be done about Voldemort and at that moment that thought almost won over. Fortunately for her she had remained strong to the ideals of the Order of the Phoenix. She had kept her convictions in the worst of time and in the best of times and she knew this round around would not be much different. She was still haunted by the deaths she could not prevent.

She however, did fear. She understood that which was Voldemort far better than anyone should. She had even met him. The encounter still haunted her. It had been when Snape had still been working for the Dark Lord. Their promise had come full circle. Next time she had certainly not been so lucky, nor the next. As Voldemort rose further, rose to his near pinnacle of power, she was being stalked. She did not know whether it was for Voldemort's enjoyment or some one else until later.

On one of the many assignments she had been sent on as an Auror she had been caught.

The Death Eaters, they had waited for her. They had been taunting her for months and it was slowly getting to her. She could only take so much death and dieing. She only could take so much of those who had been tortured out of their minds. She could only take so much of their half blanketed threats and innuendo. She could only take so much.

She had entered the residence expecting two things, more death and more taunts. But no she had only found one of those things. She had found more death, yes. This time no taunt waited for her. No, rather those who left the taunts remained for her. She hadn't had time to react. Before the wand had even become level, the curse was placed upon her.

She felt the pain and she knew instinctively what had happened. She knew that in all likelihood by the end of the night she would lay dead like so many before her. But no, not such an easy fait awaited her. As soon as the curse had been applied, she fell to the ground and the curse had been broken. She looked into the eyes of those who had cursed her. They wore long, flourishing, black capes. Dark as night described them. Mostly she had not an inkling about who they were, but one stood out in her mind.

She stared at him. She recognized him from the gray of history, from the fog that was the past. He had been at Hogwarts when she had been there. What was his name? Snape! She now remembered him. He had been a Slytherin with the usual bad attitude who enjoyed harassing a couple of other students from her house who were a year younger. Once he had asked her to the Yule Ball. Normally she would not have accepted, but she felt that she could not turn him down for some odd reason. She had never found herself taken with him, but she had known that he was taken with her. A sickening smile that looked more like a grimace crossed his face. A cruel cackle entered the room as their eyes locked for the briefest of seconds. "So this is why you cannot show me complete loyalty," came a high voice. It was the sort of unnatural voice that made shivers run up your spine. "This Auror is why?"

She looked at Snape as he heard his masters voice. She could tell that a shiver had run up his spine as well. He was afraid of Voldemort. That was not really surprising, Voldemort was as hard on his supports as he was on his enemies. When Snape did not answer the owner of the voice stepped forward. He observed the source of one of his most loyal support's failings. Naria was afraid, more afraid than she had ever been before. She did not want to look into his face. She did not want to see that which she had fought. She was afraid that even a glimpse of this man would be her undoing. "You hunt me Auror Sojair. You haven't even seen the face of your enemy. Look at me," Voldemort ordered. When she did not comply, he pointed his wand at her and placed the Imperious curse upon her. She heard the whispering in the back of her mind. It called to her to do as it said, but she knew her thoughts. She resisted. Becoming frustrated with its affects he then placed the Cruciatus curse upon. Once again her body writhed in pain.

As Voldemort spoke these words, the incantation that spurred one of the worst experiences, a look spread across Snape's face. This had been more than he had clearly bargained for. This only made Naria's experience worse. Voldemort was using her torture as a lesson for this man. He was trying to rid him of all human emotion. Trying to rid him of this like care and compassion.

She could tell Snape was close to reacting, close to stopping this. Just as she knew this she knew he was afraid, afraid of the man who he had pledged loyalty to.

As the curse finished, Voldemort spoke again, "My young servant, here, has only been able to give me obedience, not loyalty. He is far more loyal to you then I would of thought. You should see him squirm as I tortured you. Its quite humorous."

Naria was not amused. In fact, she was furthest from still keeping her eyes down trodden through out his speech.

"He's quite taken with you. I don't see why, your just like any of the other witches and wizards who have faced me, bold until the fact."

Naria looked up in anger. He was taunting her. He knew she had been close to many a great wizard and witch who had fallen at his hands. She was shocked by what she saw. Voldemort looked as if he was part snake, with glowing red eyes and nostrils reminiscing of a snakes as well, with only the slightest slits comprising them. She was afraid, but undeterred., "They were far greater men and women than you. Perhaps your loyal "servant" has a heart," she spat at him.

"Oh, I truly doubt he has a heart. I think I've trained that out of him by now. If anything is left of it, it is because of you," he coolly retorted. "I guess I was wrong though. Have you a spine, unlike the others, unlike even my own supporter? Perhaps you are made of strong stuff than I thought. It's a pity you could not be turned. You could of raised above even your highest imagination. The power that is offered is limitless."

"At what price? The destruction of all that is worth living for?"

"Power has a price, like anything else."

"It would not be true power. If I sided with you I could only ever rise so far," she snapped back.

"It would be more power than you have now."

"Yes, but what if I don't seek power above all else?" she said coolly.

"I know the human heart just as I know your heart. I know that to seek power is human."

"Am I human?"

"Of course you are. Or at least wizard and muggle are still related closely enough that we have similar drives. There is little point in lying to me. I know your heart far better than you yourself do."

"If I had sought power like that I would have been placed in Slytherin," she said in response.

"Oh, but you know as well I that you nearly were. Did the sorting hat not say that you had potential. The potential to display a very bright future indeed? Did the hat not say that they could teach you the skills you needed? The only reason you weren't placed in that house is because you refused to see your own potential. You refused to let the house do its job. It did what it did only because you demanded that it bend to your will."

"The hat understood 'choice'. I 'choose' not to be placed in that house. I saw my potential did not lie in the dark arts."

"Oh, but haven't we proven that false. You know as well as I that the 'dark arts' were what drew you to be an Auror."

"I'm an Auror to stop people like you."

"You're an Auror because you are fascinated by the power they provide. I know you've used the unforgivable curses. I know you nearly killed with Avada Kedavra ."

"That was along time ago and the whole point is that I didn't. I choose not to kill just as you 'choose' to kill."

"I do not deny my choices. I have made them without regret."

"But I wonder if your 'loyal' servant feels the same way?" Naria held his gaze. She knew she was going to die. That fact was undisputed, but she wasn't going to go out begging for mercy that would never come. If she did, what would be the point of her life? Her fight would have been pointless if she gave up now.

"Won't beg from mercy?" he said reading her thoughts. "We'll see about that. Maybe if you won't, Severus, here, will?"

Naria wasn't afraid of what was to come. She could will away some of her sensation of pain. It would be far worse if she called out and so she set herself against that above all else. As pain washed over her a second time she clenched her jaw shut tighter than she had done before. As her body wreathed in pain, she detached herself from the moment and focused on the man for whom she was an example. As the torture lasted longer, she watched Snape beginning to break.

The kid who had once suffered from the same superiority complex as any other Slytherin was discovering that he had a heart and this was killing him. He could hardly handle it. Already, his face was streaked with a stream of glinting tears. She knew he would break. She could see the wreathing of her tiny body getting to him, but it would not be her principles sacrificed.

Finally after what had seemed like an eternity, in reality only the flicker of a few heart beats time had actually occurred he called out, demanding that this be stopped, demanding that her suffering end, "Stop!"

Voldemort's high pitched laughed filled the space of the small muggle house, but he did not let up. Evenly, he kept his wand leveled at her. "I demand Loyalty. With her I will never have loyalty from you."

Snape was not put back in line by these words however; moving from his place in the circle of Death Eaters that encompassed her he stood next to his master. Looking at her and then towards his master. Naria could see the beginnings of a plan formulating in his mind, details taking shape. She saw the spark in his eye, the spark of betrayal. She knew before he did it what he was going to . He lunged on to her, protecting her from the curse that Voldemort placed upon her. He then began wreathing in pain. Voldemort pulled away his wand and looked at Naria.

She felt exhausted, but listened to what the snake man said, "I told you he could never give me loyalty." Then addressing his comments to Snape he spoke again, "Kill her."

Snape laid puddled on the floor. His robs ensnaring him and he did not comply, either from the pain or the weariness of making the decision itself. "Kill her," Voldemort venomously spat again.

Snape began to pull himself off the floor. Standing again he pointed the wand at her and then he looked at his master.

"KILL HER!"

"She could be far more valuable to us alive, Master," Snape said quietly. Not only did he not want her dead, but this was the simple truth of the matter.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes as he looked to her; thoughts racing, thoughts calculating. Could this Auror be of value to him? Could she even though she refused to let go of her petty compassion for Muggles and all?

"She has valuable connections with in the Ministry," Snape said quietly. Snape could clearly see the same process occurring that she was, could see the same wheels turning, could see Voldemort coming to the same conclusions.

"You remain yet 'obedient' to me," Voldemort hissed. "But your loyalty is hers. Fortunately for her, your obedience is enough to save her this night. Wingardium Leviosa," Voldemort pointed his wand at her and her form rose in the air. It would have been pointless to have her try to walk; her body still wreathed on occasion from the pain that had been afflicted upon it. She may have been able to block out some of the pain, but now she was not only hurt, but also exhausted and afraid. Her limp and nearly lifeless body floated. Conscience remained with her for only so long. The question that flooded her mind was what was to be done with her. The Dark Lord would only keep her so long before he tired with her, she knew. In all likelihood, death would makes it call upon her soon, but it was latter than she had originally thought. A few seconds was still a few seconds, and with those. A life time could be lived. or ruined. Her decision would be what made or broke her.

In her head, before her reasoning had left her, she had began calculating a plan. She could be given all the chance she needed to escape; unlikely, but if the opportunity presented itself she certainly would not baulk at it. She also knew that Snape could very well be her key to survival and she was going to have to try to play him for all he was worth. Maybe enough to unlock her from her fait, but of that she could not be certain.

Life was a gamble. With every breath you take you risk. Risk was dangerous, but it could also be the only way to survive. Non-action at times could be far more risky to ones health and well being, though.

-=(^)=-

When she woke up, she found herself in a cell. Her whole body throbbed, but especially her head. She had woken with a start from a dream, a horrible dream. Her breath came as a ragged torent as she sucked up as much of the sweet, life-sustaining air. Then it dawned upon her. the images she had seen had not been those from a dream. No, they had not come from an over active sub-conscience. They had been remembrances of the previous night.

That night had seemed like a nightmare. It had not seemed possible for it to be the truth, but apparently she was wrong. Not only was it the truth, the fog of memory and pain had at least obscured a part of her reality. They had made it easier to bear yesterday, but today there was no such luck. Naria received both memory and pain full on.

She sucked in another breath of air and another burst of reality. The air in this room was not sweet. No, it was anything but. It was dank and musty, like the air of a cellar. The room was overly wet and had never been given the chance to dry out. Where ever it was, she decided that it must not have very good ventilation. She licked a finger and with her hand she felt the air and sure enough there was no current running through it, no indication of fresh entering or exiting this place.

As Naria's eyes focused she saw her surroundings. An eight by eight room. Dark as night. A rickety bed sat in a corner. That had been where they had dumped her. From the ceiling she could see chains and realized what this place must have been.

She sat in a dungeon. Its darkness designed to repress the lighter flights that her soul might make, the chains left there to intimidate her. She would of been intimidated if they had not already done far worse to her. No, this room was pleasant compared to what she had experienced mere hours ago.

At the thought of time she wondered: What had woken her up? This was a question to which she had no answer. May be it was the raise in temperature that was associated with the presence of another body, maybe it was the simple movement of air; or maybe it was the impregnated silence that filled this place? It was a silence that was screaming to be filled. It was the sort of silence one experiences when they are trying to stay extra quiet and fear they will be heard. May be she could hear a ragged heart beat that thumped out of control? What ever it was someone or thing had been here and recently.

Naria raised herself off of the pallet and began to resurvey this room, looking at every nuance and detail. Examining the state of its mortar and stone. It was in all likelihood reinforced with magic and even it was not, any plan involving escape through structural integrity failure would take forever without a wand. Naria silently marveled at Muggle ingenuity. What she was able to do with magic they could match without magic. To her the Death Eaters and Voldemort's dislike and fear of Muggles seemed irrational. Muggles were no better, nor worse than wizards, they were just different.

This propensity for the desire of pure-blood disgusted her. Many said that the people who said so only said so because they were Mudblood, but Naria could refute that fact. Her lines were more pure than even Voldemort's himself. In her family there had never been intermarriages with muggles. This was not because of pride nor because of prejudice. No the Sojairs were not the type to spend much time with Muggles and no, this was not because of a dislike or fear, it simply was. Naria was one of the exceptions. She had strayed into a field of work that periodically lead her to Muggle dealings.

As she surveyed her temporary dwellings, the door of the room opened. Standing in it was Snape. As she was about to say something, Snape raised a finger to his lips, silencing her desire to speak. Silently he swept into the room; his black cape billowing after him. Silently the door shut behind him, as if by magic, and in all likelihood that had been the case. After the door shut his demeanor changed from that of an unsympathetic captor to a man of sympathy and compassion; it changed to that of man who did not want to see what was to come. He broke the silence, speaking in little more than a whisper that made up his voice. It did not have its normal menacing under tone, no, it had one of worry entangled with hope. "They can not hear us. You are to be kept until either your usefulness is spent or until you join Voldemort. Since I truly believe either will happen soon, we must hurry and find away for you to escape before Voldemort tires with you."

Naria looked into his eyes. They were full with worry and the weariness of some one who had suffered greatly, "What has he done to you?"

"That is not of importance," Snape hissed quietly.

"Tell me," she said into the silence.

"Nothing he wouldn't have done any other day."

"Why do you stay?" she asked to this cold answer.

"I would be dead if I left," Snape retorted into the void her question had left.

"Severus, why did you join Voldemort in the first place?" Naria asked looking at the ground and her feat.

Silence was what answered her immediately. She could see Snape trying to answer this for himself in the first place. She could see him coming only to one true answer. Naria silently wondered what he would tell. Silently wondered whether it would be the truth. "I sought power and he provided it. My ambition has ruined me and all I have ever cared about. My ambition is what will be responsible for your death if I can not figure out how to get you out of here."

Naria knew from the trembling quality of his voice that this was the truth. He had been afraid to even admit to himself until now. At least her death would have some purpose. Maybe it would transform this man. Maybe it would revert him back to a state before he had found a fascination with the Dark Arts. "You are not the cause of this," she said trying to comfort him. She had once thought she reviled this man, but she knew he was human and his errors were human like anyone else's. Hopefully he would see the truth of her words.

"If I had not sought Voldemort and had not followed him, my inability to be truly loyal would not have brought this sentence upon your head."

"Maybe it would not have come so soon, but I have been marked since I became an Auror. Before you left Hogwarts he taunted me. I found my name scribed across the walls of victims' houses in blood. No, Voldemort has had my death warrant signed even before you were a supporter."

"Not your death warrant. He wanted you on his side. He sees power in you. He knows that if you were to support him his rise would be easier," Severus said quietly, his dark eyes examining hers. She felt as if this man could look inside her soul. She felt as if he knew some profound truth about her that she had not discovered. "You also come from a powerful family. The Sojairs are respected in the Ministry and beyond. Part of Voldemort's plan has been to weaken the Ministry from within and Aurors are in an especially good place to do that."

"Which is why if it is a choice between darkness or death, you must not get in the way."

"He may not dispose of you because of your power. He seeks a Slytherin line and your power comes from the same source as his. You too have the blood of Slytherin cursing through your veins. He does not tell the others, but this is the case. I wonder how it was not discovered while you were at Hogwarts. You could of unleashed the Chamber of Secrets as well as he. You heard the Baslik. You could of controlled it, unleashed it."

"The Baslik called on occasion, but I knew not to seek it. It called for blood, something I was unwilling to give it," she said quietly. She had always been ashamed, in part, by the blood that moved through her veins. Others thought Slytherin had only one heir. They had been wrong. He had, but one 'male' heir. He had, however, fathered another child. A child of pure blood and that was the line that she had inherited. She knew there was more light in her veins than any of Slytherin's poisonous and hate filled instincts.

"He will seek you relentlessly. Fortunately, we will have some time. He has planned that you be left here for another day. He hopes to have your soul filled with fear and worry. He hopes to squelch your hope to make you easier to turn."

"Severus, promise me something," Naria whispered into the silence. His gaze met hers again. "Promise me that if he seeks an heir that you kill me."

He glared at her. He had not bargained for this. No, he had not come to kill the only person he cared about. He shook his head fervently in a strong no.

Naria could not except this answer, "Voldemort is bad enough. An heir of our combined blood could bring destruction upon all of us. Slytherin's blood is that of cursed line. We are forever in search of power. Never satisfied. This search leads to hate and resentment. It can turn the best intentioned person to a course of darkness. Do you want the world to fall further into darkness after Voldemort's passing?"

Snape looked at her, looked into her eyes, examining the truthfulness of her statement. He was formulating a decision. He could see her survive at the cost of everything or he could see her die, "If it comes to that.I will do as.as you ask." He did not want to see the woman he loved die, but he saw the truth and logic in her words.

She was more hopeful now then ever before, life or death at least her worst fear would not come to pass. Voldemort would not be able to purify the Slytherin line. He would not be able to make it more potent. Naria did not even want to imagine the ramification if an heir was secured by Voldemort. With both the blood of Slytherin and trained hatred this new member of this rare line could collapse all she cared about.

Her blood had never been much of a consideration of hers until now. She had known the truth and had feared it a bit, but she also knew that she had a far more pure ally in her quest to stay on the light.

She looked again at Snape. His eyes were filled with tears. He did not want her dead and he knew Voldemort would seek what she feared soon, meaning that she would seek Severus's hand do the work that none other would do. A glint, like the one she had seen on his face the previous night, now trickled in the same place. "It won't come to that. It can't come to that. I will find away to get you out of this place. I will find away to save you from Voldemort and me," he said in a chocked whisper.

She walked up to him. Her gaze held his with such intensity. The electricity that had filled the Muggle's house the previous night filled this space as well. It held the same power. Looking into his eyes, into his soul that had once been blackened by hatred, but that still held a glimmer of what was light and right she touched his face. Her hand ran down his cheek, wiping away the tears. "Don't cry," she soothed him. She herself felt like doing the same, but would not, could not.

-=(^)=-

He looked at her. He had not wanted this to come. He did not want his hand to be the one that loosened her tie to this plane, to this life. He had loved this woman, he still loved this woman, but at the same moment he knew that her words held the truth. Voldemort could not purify the Slytherin line. The very thought revolted and disgusted him, but not for the same reasons it disgusted her. Yes, they were convincing reasons, but he had an even more instinctual reason not to see that fate pass. He could not abide by the thought of another man touching her, bringing pain to her.

He could feel her sense his thoughts as she gazed into his dark eyes. He could feel her hand run his face and the softness of her touch surprised him. His life had been filled with things that were harsh since he had left the safety of school and had joined this man who struck fear into the hearts of all, even his own followers. The year he had spent with out her had caused him more pain than he had ever suffered until this day. It was in that time that his mind had fallen to things more dark and he had been brought to Voldemort's side.

He did not want her to move her hand, he did not want her to look away. Moving his hand so that it enveloped hers. He felt the softness of her skin. He silently wished this moment would not end. He did not want her to pull away, he did not want to think about the reality of the situation. No, this was a pleasant fiction; one he had lived in his own head for far to long. To bad it was a fiction. He knew that she probably did not feel the same, but during this moment it did not matter to him. All that mattered was the warmth of her touch and how it brought him to a place before the Death Eaters and Voldemort.

Moving his other hand, he touched her face. It, too, had the moistness of tears. He silently wished that she never had reason to cry.

There was an electricity in the air. He had had a yearning for her touch. For so long his life had been filled with disappointment and pain. Her presence made him forget or at least not care. As he stared into her eyes he felt himself being drawn into there depths.

He did not know if he could return her tenderness, but more than anything he wanted to. He wanted to share this moment with her, wanted reciprocation on his feelings. With her he felt a feeling of complete acceptance, a feeling of love. He leaned down and kissed her. Her lips were sweet, and brought comfort to him that he had not felt for along time. The last time he had had such a feeling comfort and joy was the last time he had shared a moment such as this. It had been the night of the Yule Ball.

Neither wanted to pull away. Both of them had needed this, had wanted this. Their existence seemed to culminate at this point, but then he drew away. He did not draw away from fear like he had thought he would. No, he wanted this more than anything. "They will be missing me."

And with that he swept out of the room. Leaving her standing there. He would return, but now there was more pressing needs. He had to figure out how to get her out of here. He did not know what he would do if harm came to her and he did not want to know.

-=(^)=-

She had been locked in this room for two days now and she feared that Snape would not be able to do as he had said he would. She looked around the room for what most have been the hundredth time. She had to get out of here. Especially if what Snape said was true. Voldemort could not purify their line.

Almost as if on cue, that figment of here worst nightmare entered the room. His eyes were as she remembered and she feared them. "So, have you reconsidered my offer, Auror Sojair? No? Well, that's alright. I don't need your agreement. Just remember I can make things easier for you if you give me agreement. I let you think what I've said over. Just remember death will come, when and how is up to you."

-=(^)=-

That night he returned. This time he knew they would not be seeking him anytime soon. He had been given the chance he would need to get her out of here. Voldemort and most of the Death Eaters would not be returning. They were off playing with Muggles.

"He came today," Naria said with a panicked voice.

"He's getting impatient. I personally thought this would come sooner, but Voldemort has more patience than even I thought. Fortunately, he will just have to wait a little longer. Pretty much everyone has left and I should be able to get you out. Here," he said throwing her wand to her. "Now then, I brought a cloak and mask. You should blend in enough. And I should be able to get you out of here. Just follow me and don't say anything."

Naria pulled the black cloak over her slight shoulders. Its weight was almost over powering due a lack of energy from being deprived of sustenance and suffering from worry. Its dark folds hid her body. Severus saw her fumble with it.

-=(^)=-

She was so weak. He watched her trying to master the cape. He wished there was an easier way, but there was not. When it became clear to him that she would not be able to master the garment he took the initiative. He rearranged the garment over her slight shoulders to make it easier for her. He could tell that she would also not be able to close the clasps. Yesterday she had seemed so strong, today. Like a dotting mother hen, he closed them for her.

-=(^)=-

She sat there, feeling ridiculous. She could not even button her own cloak. Next, Snape fastened the mask to her head and lifted her hood to hide her long lengths of blond hair.

"Follow me," he called to her quietly.

Naria mustered all the strength she had and followed Snape. He seemed to move so fast. The mask reduced her visibility. All she could see was Snape's back. Silently, she fingered her wand. She had felt naked without its warmth in her hand. As an Auror, it had become an extension of her person.

She prayed that Snape knew what he was doing and she also hoped that he would not get her sentence. As if her thoughts were presentable in reality, a roadblock presented itself.

"Severus, where are you going?" asked a masculine voice. Its owner was short, but she could tell little else other than the fact that he enjoyed his food a bit to much. His face, unfortunately was covered by the same sort of mask she herself wore.

Naria's heart began to beat unevenly, pounding faster and faster. Were they caught?

Severus rounded on the man. She noticed how this seemed to drive fear into his heart. She could tell that who ever this was he was afraid of Snape more than collogues should be. Snape's voice came as a menacing hiss, "The usual, Wormtail, Voldemort's orders."

She knew that name, but from where? She had no idea. She was also surprised by how even Severus's voice sounded.

"Right, well. enjoy," said Wormtail, trying to escape Snape's menacing gaze.

Snape turned and she followed him. It had not taken long to get out of this place. She was surprised at how they were not caught, at how she had not been questioned. Snape lead her into some woods that had surrounded that place. They marched deep into the darkness of the woods. When nearly all light save that from the stars and moon made its way barely through the thick trees, Snape stopped.

She was more weary than she had ever been before. Finally, being nearly free, she collapsed on her knees in the darkened forest.

-=(^)=-

Severus kneeled next to her. He lifted off of her hood. He knew that she had been weak before this journey, unable to button her own cape. Now, she would certainly be weary. Her blond hair cascaded underneath the rest of the cloak. Next, he removed the mask. Her face shined brilliantly in the pale light of night. Carefully, with nimble hands, he unfastened the buttons and the cape slid off her shoulders. With its weight off of her, he noticed her breath more easily.

"You must go soon. When Voldemort returns, he will come looking for you. Go to Professor Dumbledore. He is the only man Voldemort fears. He will be able to help you," Snape said quietly to her in earnest. "Apparate to Hogsmeade. You should have enough time to get to Hogwarts before Voldemort misses you. And remember, he will be searching for you. Hide some place. I don't know what would befall us if he can get his hands on you again. Oh, tell Dumbledore I will aid him. I can tell him of some of Voldemort's more ambitious plans. Now go."

Naria looked at him, regarding him in silence. "What about you? Voldemort will know won't he?"

"No, I meant what I told Wormtail," Snape said in silence.

"Your going to kill Muggles?" Naria asked in shook.

"No, no, no. Just give 'em a bit of a scare. I won't have deniability other wise," Snape answered her. Standing up, he extended a hand to her so she could also raise herself off the ground. She held on to his for a second. He looked into her eyes. He did not want to leave her, but they had to part their separate ways. But before they had to go that had a little time. He kissed her gently, a kiss she to reciprocated in kind. He did not want this to end, but it had to. "Go, before you run out of time. I'll be fine," he said trying to sooth the worries he knew she was suffering from.

And with that she let go of his hand. With her wand, she apparated out of his life.

-=(^)=-

That was an incident she had never told Remus about and for good reason. No one other than Snape knew of her bloodline. A line that she was ashamed of. She was afraid f its power. Its seduction, how it could entangle ones senses, prompt them to do things that one was not normally prone to. At least this time the Baslik was not calling to her, Harry had rid her of that annoyance. She had never been prompted to let it out, but could of, she very well could of controlled it, used it as she saw fit. Naria could so easily become Slytherin's avenger. She could have opened the Chamber. She had known where it lie, she simply had not been tempted by the calls for blood.

The difference between herself and Voldemort were very simple. She had 'chosen' not to follow her genetic predispositions. Naria was not one who could rote that type of events. Nay, she had a calling to prevent them. Blood or no Blood, she had stronger Gryffindor predispositions than anything else.

After dinner in her and Remus's quarters, alone, she decided that she needed to speak to Remus when he got back from dinner with the staff. Naria knew he was probably wondering where she was, but Naria had not felt like eating under the eyes of Dumbledore. Some times she felt that he knew that which she had never said. Nor did she feel like sitting under Snape's gaze for two very good reasons: One, he knew. Two, they had a past that just shouldn't be thought about to any great extent.

That too, she had never told Remus. Sometimes a secret or two is better than a ruined relationship. She knew that he too had things he would never tell her, could never tell. She had come to accept that part of her fiancé.

-=(^)=-

Through out dinner he had wondered where ever Naria had lost herself. He had been looking forward to hearing about her first day. As was the rest of the staff, but she had never turned up for dinner. He had also missed her at lunch.

Through both meals he had been forced to endure Snape's glare with out respite. Naria had been respite last time. It had been far more bearable then. He had at least had a place to focus his attention with out being askewed as being rude.

After dinner, he made his way to their quarter's in the staff hall. Already, he had checked her classroom and had not found her in there.

Upon entering, he saw her sitting alone in front of a fire that had been lit by house elves. She still wore her robes from work, but her hair was unceremoniously loosened from its braid. She looked as if a truck had hit her, so engrossed in thought she had not even noticed him enter the room. He knew he could move stealthily, but Naria had extraordinary senses, fine tuned from her previous line of work.

He decided that it would be best if he broke her concentration, considering as she was doing nothing in particular. "Naria, you were missed at dinner." He smiled sort of vaguely

Those simple words drew her out of her own little world and back into reality. He made his way to a place next to her. She looked even worse from the frontal view. Silently he wondered about what had happened. He had not heard about anything like one of the students being hurt. No, on the contrary, he heard only good things about her teaching methods. "Why weren't you there? The teachers were looking forward to hearing about your day," he said trying to engage her. That did not work so he tried something else," What's the matter, Love?"

Naria met his gaze. He could tell that what ever it was he was only going to hear a partial truth. He had learned to accept that side of her. The side that only let her say part of what she was feeling. He knew she had a repressed side, much like he did, and of this side she had never said a word. He had always silently wondered, but had chosen not to push. If she, at some point, chose to speak he knew she knew he was there for her. "Nothing."

"Tell me," he demanded quietly.

"Nothing. really," she said, this time a tad more convincingly, but he knew she was lying, it was plain to see.

"Naria, tell me what happened. I'm not going to accept nothing."

Naria looked into is eyes. He could see something dancing behind their blue depths. He could see her considering what exactly to say, editing her words before they were spoken, "Neville Longbottom."

"What bout Neville?" he asked trying to figure out what her cryptic words meant.

"He asked me about his parents today," she said in a voice that was almost quieter than a whisper.

"What did you say?" Remus wondered. He knew Naria had known the Longbottoms from her job at the Ministry. He also knew what had happened to them.

"A little as possible. I told him the truth though. I told him that his parents were good people who shouldn't of suffered the way they did."

"What's the matter then?" he asked, confused about why should seem so depressed by this.

"We all have things from out past, things we remember and Neville surfaced some of my less pleasant memories," she said looking into gaze.

"What is it you remember?" he had known she had some part of her past she chose not to share, but he had never known what it was.

"Voldemort. The Death Eaters. Slytherin." The last name came as a particular surprise. Why Slytherin? But this time it was she who asked the question, "Do you want children Remus?"

He was a bit taken back by this question. He had not been prepared for it considering the topic of conversation. It lead him to think carefully about how he would answer this weighted inquire. "I. think that at some point, that yes, I will want children. Not yet obviously, but at some point."

Naria nodded her head as he answered. She then spoke words he had not expected, "I can't have children."

Remus shook his head confused, "What do you mean can't? There's nothing wrong with you, and even if there was it could be cured by a charm."

"No, Remus. That's not what I meant. I'm healthy. pursay. And no it isn't because I don't want children. I simply can't," she said confusing Remus even further. She was healthy, but could not have children and it was not because of medical condition?

"But. why?"

"I have a blood line that should not be passed on," she said matter-of- factly. As she met his eyes.

"What do you mean? Why can't your line be passed on? This doesn't make sense."

"Remus, but it does. Dumbledore is wrong about Voldemort on one account. He is not the only living magical person with Slytherin's blood. I too carry that curse in my veins. I too could of opened the Chamber of Secrets if I felt so inclined. I too could of directed the dementors and giants to do my bidding. I too could of tried to kill Harry. I too could have been the one responsible for your friends deaths. Don't you see? Slytherin's line must not continue. It is evil, filled with a seductive and ensnaring power. It can cause even the best intentioned person to do what can not be spoken," she said trying to explain that which as so hard to put into words.

"That's impossible. Only one person has Slytherin's blood. It's not you," Remus said quietly a bit in shook.

"Remus, I was once captured by Voldemort and the Death Eaters. The reason he captured me? He wanted the purest Slytherin heir he could achieve. He figured that if he could not achieve immortality an heir to continue his work would be second best remembering the lesson of his own great grandfather. Do you know why that didn't happen? Your foil saved me. Severus chose not to let Voldemort continue our line. He's the only reason I'm here to day. He's the only reason Voldemort doesn't have an heir with an even purer amount of Slytherin's blood. That Sorting Hat had told me the same thing, so you see it is true," Naria continued with out a stop. She had to tell Remus all that she had not told him about her blood line.

"I.I."

"It's true Remus. I have his blood, something that cannot be passed on. But I don't have his drives."

Remus looked at her. Something in her voice told him that what she said was the truth, but another part of him didn't want to believe it. He didn't like the idea of the woman he loved coming from the same line as that which was responsible for so much death and devastation.

"Naria, I. believe you. I.I don't need.I don't. I love you," he said. Out of all he could say that was the only thing that truly mattered. "You have accepted me when no other would. It seems hypocritical to do anything less for you." He knelt at her feet where she sat. Looking into her eyes he took her hands in hers. He could see the tears running down her face. He felt that she should never have that look upon her face. He moved in a gesture to wipe them from her eyes. Drying them, trying to make the surface signs of her pain go away in a symbolic way to rid her of the inner causings.

He wished a thousand times over that people like Voldemort had never happened. He wished that no one should feel the pain he had. No one should loose their friends to the hands of another friend. No one should have a fiancé who worries on the consequences of her bloodline being passed. No one should have to deal with the pain that this women has in her life. He did not even want to think about all things this woman had seen.

Even though he told her he did not want children that night, he knew there was a flaw in her beliefs, in her arguments. She had missed one important lesson. It is not your blood lines that determine your nature; it is your choices. He was saddened that she had not learned this lesson, but when she did he would discuss children again with her. He knew they could raise wonderful children. It did not matter that they would carry the blood of Slytherin or a werewolf.

-=(^)=-

A week or so latter she had recovered herself. At breakfast she answered the numerous questions posed by the staff with a smile and hardly a flicker of a thought went to her conversation with Neville and the memories it had stirred up for her. Only for a second did her thoughts fall to that past with which she rarely thought when Snape descended upon the table and took his place at the table. Naria thought idly to herself that Snape should not leave his dungeon. It was where he belonged, but then she remembered how much she owed him and how much she had once cared for him; she silently apologized to him within her own head.

She wondered what it was about him now that made her think such horrible thoughts about him, or maybe it was simply herself. Maybe she had become the one who was cold and callus. What ever it was, the man definitely had a quality that made her a tad on edge these days when before he had not. Logically she could not find a reason. Snape would have been called even harder in the days she knew him. Through part of it he had even still been a Death Eater and even then she had not feared and recoiled from him. No, something had profoundly changed in herself, she was nearly certain. Maybe it was the fact that night she had come so close to surrender and he had seen her at her weakest or maybe it was something else. Maybe she refused to accept something about herself that either this man knew or represented or there was and even simpler explanation, but that was ridiculous. How could that be true. No it definitely wasn't true. Or are you rationalizing? No, You love Remus.

Again Naria noticed Snape staring at her and she averted her eyes. She did know one quality of his gaze that made her feel uncomfortable, she felt as if he could read what she was thinking, and on a deep, animalistic level that made her nervous, more nervous than was perhaps logical, but it was deep enrooted into her mind and unlikely to change. Naria, like every one else, was a creature of habit and of nature and that was simply a part of her nature.

This time the young Spells Professor knew how Remus had felt. To sit here alone with this man's unshifting stare was quite disturbing. At least before she had had Remus to divert her attention. She understood, however, why he had not showed. He would have a strenuous day with his classes. First period he would have the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor fourth years. They would be going over the unforgivable curses: a rather strenuous subject. Then he would have the Gryffindor Fifth Years and the Slytherins; for some reason that combination kept coming up. Naria knew patterns develop and then it takes little reinforcement for them to become hard wired. In that class they would be going over magical creatures, in particular, one Remus knew a great deal about, the werewolf. She had noticed how tense he had gotten when she asked what he would be teaching today and she full well understood, or at least understood as well as someone without the condition could. What Naria offered him was acceptance. She had never judged him. No, she had always tired to avoid that particular quality. She had found it detrimental to judge before the fact in her previous occupation and she carried that quality with her.

Naria silently missed her old job just a tad. She had enjoyed her work countering the evil her blood kin could do. When Voldemort had risen she had been in her light. She had found herself a career that she had been good at. That being said, it was probablely one of the most difficult things she had ever experienced. She could remember every crime scene in detail. She could remember the looks etched on the dead faces, and the screams of terror the living made even after the ordeal. She remembered every messaged scrawled in blood on the wall that endited her, she could remember them word for word. They had all been designed to taunt her, to put her so on edge that she made stupid mistakes that would bring her to the hands of those who had scrawled them.

Dumbledore asked quietly, disturbing her disturbing train of thought, most to Naria's pleasure. "Have you met the Weasley boys yet?"

"Yes, Professor Dumbledore, I do believe that I will have them in my first class today."

"Do call me Albus, how long have we known each other?"

"Yes, Albus," Naria said with a friendly smile, her attention diverted from both thoughts of the past and the man who now clearly despised her.

"I'm certain you've been warned about them. All being said, they are good and intelligent boys, just remember they easily become bored and that is mainly when they become trouble some," Dumbledore said to her with the voice that expressed a body of wisdom that had been developed over numerous years of teaching and life. He knew more about people and their ways than anyone Naria had ever met. Behind his half moon spectacles lay his eyes that still had a twinkle even with all this man had seen and observed in his life. He had seen the rise and fall of the most power on both sides of the ideological fence. He had been a teacher to the greatest wizards and witches, even a teacher to Tom Marvolo Riddle. Horrible and wonderful, he had seen it all and more. He was probably the one and only hope when it came to stopping a resurrected Voldemort with or without a government that acknowledged the fact. He was also one of the main protectorates of the boy who was at the center of this. Naria silently wondered what this man had seen to have gathered the look he had in eyes right now. What secret did he have? He had seen things as bad or worse than she and yet he retained that undiminishable twinkle.

She was always slightly shocked by the amount of wonderment he seemed to poses for someone who had seen so much. Most people developed ideas about how the world worked and kept them static; Dumbledore, however, seemed to always question his own preconceptions about the world and people, seemed to leave them open and input new data as it became clear to him, that was perhaps why he was so keen on offering second chances to those no one else would of. He had offer Remus a chance and then had extended. He had reaccepted Snape. And he had seen the error in his actions in helping having Sirius convicted. Naria, like so many, looked up to this man and his wisdom about life and people.

What probably found Naria the most striking about him was the fact that with all that. With all his wisdom and all his knowledge, he was still a man and that was all he wanted to be seen as. He had once told her as a girl that all he had ever wanted for Christmas had been a pair of good sturdy socks, but instead he always got books. Next year she got him a pair of nice, sturdy socks and watched his reaction. Sure enough, he seemed happier that Christmas, not that he was not happy every Christmas, just more happy.

One day Naria hoped that she had similar eyes, and a similar understanding disposition. "I had figured that to be the case, Albus."

"Oh and I suggest disarming them during the beginning of class. They do enjoy breaking in new teachers," Dumbledore said with a knowing voice.

"Just don't rearm them before my class," said Snape coolly.

"Why would I do that Severus?" Naria asked him with a devilish secret smile.

Snape met her gaze with an even stare, judging her, questioning her, trying to discern her motives, and for the first time that night she didn't feel as if he could tell what she was thinking. Naria could go on the hunt as easily as he and Naria could win.

Looking back to Dumbledore, she finished her conversation with him and made her way to her class rooms to begin her first lesson of the day.