Out of the Clear Blue Sky
Chapter Seven - Settling In
A/N: Some more evil writer's block, but it's taken care of. Enjoy!
Because Tracey looked to be about the same age as the older students, some were disinclined to give her the respect she deserved as a member of the staff at Hogwarts. This concerned Albus and Minerva, but Tracey managed to nip any disrespect in the bud, mainly by refusing to take any guff from any student. Though most were taller than her, she had long ago learned how to use her size to her advantage, although she had to adapt her methods somewhat to allow for magic. It didn't take long for the students to learn it wasn't wise to cross Professor Cooper.
The week passed by in a blur for Tracey. True to her word, she didn't read the books Professor McGonagall had given her to study for the Animagus transformation except after dinner. She spent the days sitting in on the sixth and seventh year classes, just listening, so she could get a feel for how each professor taught their classes, and get used to having lots of students around. For this, Tracey was grateful. It meant she would be less likely to screw up in front of the students when she started teaching Transfiguration classes. She was nervous enough about it in the first place. Though she'd progressed rapidly during the two or so months since her rather unorthodox arrival, she was still a little unsure of herself.
When Saturday arrived, Tracey breathed a sigh of relief. She had enjoyed sitting in on the classes, but there was something to be said for leisure time. Tracey curled up in a corner of her sofa with one of the books Professor McGonagall had given her, fully intending to devote part of her day to reading, but a knock at the door disturbed her before she even read a word. Sighing, she set the book aside and got up to answer the door. "Good morning, Professor."
"Hello, Miss Cooper," Professor McGonagall replied, adjusting the pile of parchment in her arms. "May I come in?"
Tracey nodded and stepped aside. "Yes, Professor."
The older witch swept past Tracey into the room. "I have some assignments for you to mark, Miss Cooper."
Tracey stared at the pile as Professor McGonagall set it on the writing desk. "You want me to mark _all_ of those, Professor?"
She nodded as she turned to Tracey. "Yes, these assignments are all from the first year through third year classes."
"That wasn't my concern, Professor," the redhead confessed.
"Oh?" A black eyebrow rose. "What _is_ your concern, Miss Cooper?"
Tracey met the professor's dark green gaze a little sheepishly. "I was hoping to get some extra reading in today."
Professor McGonagall smiled slightly. "Mark those assignments, and then you'll be free to read whatever you wish."
Tracey nodded. "Yes, Professor."
The dark-haired witch left without another word. Tracey glanced at the sofa, sighed, sat down at her writing desk, picked up her quill, dipped it in an inkbottle full of red ink, pulled the pile of parchment towards her, and began to read.
* * *
Tracey was very nervous. Minerva had asked her to teach the first year Gryffindors and Slytherins that morning and Tracey had agreed. She'd spent the previous evening preparing for the class itself instead of doing her reading for the Animagi transformation. Now she sat behind the teacher's desk, auburn hair pulled back into a twist, rectangular glasses perched in the bridge of her nose, and deep blue robes embroidered with silver layered over a pale gray dress. She struggled to appear calm, wanting her father to be proud of her.
She watched quietly as the students filed into the classroom. Many did double takes when they saw Tracey instead of Minerva, but they took their seats without commenting. They assumed they would be given an explanation. When the last of the students had taken their seats, Tracey stood to address them. "Hello, class. Professor McGonagall asked me to teach today's lesson. All I ask from you is that you give me the same respect you give Professor McGonagall. Is that clear?"
There was a general murmur of assent. "Good. Now, it is my understanding that most of you can Transfigure a match into a needle now." Students nodded. "Excellent. Now we will be moving on to something a little more complex."
The students exchanged excited looks. "Before we do, however," Tracey flicked her wand at the board and it was soon covered with her neat, precise, slightly loopy handwriting, "you will need to copy down these notes."
The students groaned and rummaged in their bags for parchment, quills, and ink. As they did so, Tracey collected the homework Minerva had assigned them over the weekend. Leaving it in a pile on the desk, she moved up and down the rows, making sure the students were copying the notes. "Miss Lawson, that doesn't look like the notes to me."
The redhead blushed furiously and, stuffing the letter she'd been writing into her bag, she hastily resumed copying the notes.
"Mr. Bates, have you finished copying the notes?" she asked the boy with curly brown hair beside the redhead.
"Yes, Professor." He handed his parchment to her.
She skimmed over what he'd written. "You missed a whole paragraph, Mr. Bates." She returned his parchment to him.
"Where?" he asked, puzzled.
"Right there." She pointed it out.
"Oh." He began scribbling furiously.
"Slow down," she told him, "it's not a race."
He nodded without looking up and his scribbling slowed down.
When they finished copying the notes, Tracey handed out bottle caps for the students to change into buttons. As they attempted to do so, Tracey again moved up and down the rows, providing help when it was needed and prodding students when necessary.
By the end of the class period, few students had managed to change their bottle cap into a button. Tracey collected the results of their attempts and sent them on their way. When the door closed behind the last student, a sleek silver tabby cat who'd been watching from the windowsill jumped down and turned into Minerva. Tracey smiled timidly as the older woman approached the teacher's desk. "Well?"
Minerva didn't speak for a moment, choosing to study the notes Tracey had left on the board. Finally, she turned to the smaller woman. "You have a knack for teaching, Miss Cooper."
Tracey's smile became bolder. "Thank you, Professor."
Minerva nodded to the pile of parchment on the desk. "Mark those tonight before you do any reading."
Tracey sighed and nodded. "Yes, Professor."
* * *
"Strawberry laces." The gargoyle jumped aside and Harry stepped onto the spiral staircase. He reached the top and knocked on the door. It opened silently and he entered Professor Dumbledore's office.
"Good evening, Harry," the Headmaster greeted him. "Have a seat."
Harry sat in the chair opposite Professor Dumbledore. The Pensieve sat on the desk between them, patterns of white light dancing on the ceiling above. As Harry watched, Dumbledore put his wand to his temple and, drawing it away, placed the thought in the Pensieve. When he was done, he looked at Harry. "There is a reason Professor Snape placed some of his thoughts in the Pensieve before teaching you, Harry."
The boy looked down at his knees, ashamed. "There are some things he didn't want me to see."
"Yes, Harry," Dumbledore replied. "That is why I must ask you not to look into the Pensieve anymore. To do so is to invade the privacy of whoever's memory you find yourself in. Whether it is mine or Professor Snape's."
Harry looked up and met the Headmaster's gaze. "Yes, Sir."
Dumbledore picked up the Pensieve and set it aside. "Now, are you ready to begin?"
Harry nodded. "Yes, Sir."
"Very well." Dumbledore sat down in the chair behind his desk. "You must first learn to empty your mind. Let go of all your feelings, Harry. Let go of your anger and your hate. They will only give Voldemort a foothold."
Without realizing it, Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Slowly, his eyes drifted shut.
"Good Harry. Now, I want you to focus on keeping your mind clear. Don't let me into your mind." Harry nodded. "_Legimens._"
Harry could see his memories, but it was as if there was a gauzy material between himself and the memories. He fought the invasion with his mind, pushing Dumbledore out. When Harry opened his eyes, he was still sitting in front of Dumbledore's desk and the Headmaster had his wand out, but relaxed.
"Very good, Harry. It's a start." Dumbledore began scooping his thoughts out of the Pensieve. "Don't forget to clear your mind before you go to bed every night. I'll see you on Wednesday."
Harry nodded and left, feeling a little drained.
* * *
Tracey, bundled up against the cold September winds, joined Xiomara for the Quidditch tryouts, particularly Gryffindor. "I'm glad Dumbledore let Potter rejoin Gryffindor's team."
Tracey nodded and her eyes were drawn to the boy, who was standing with Ron Weasley. "They need three new players, don't they?"
Xiomara nodded as she watched Ron take flight. The redhead had become much more confident in his abilities since Gryffindor had won the Quidditch cup. "Although it wouldn't hurt for them to find two new Beaters."
Tracey shrugged. "You know the game better than I do, although Ron's idea of having them strictly protect the Chasers in that last game against Ravenclaw seems to have worked."
Xiomara nodded again. "Yes, it did."
Neither said anything more, watching as students of varying levels of talents and skills passed the Quaffle back and forth, occasionally trying to get a shot past Ron. Harry hovered nearby, watching closely as the Quaffle changed hands. Finally, Harry called a halt to the tryouts and he and Ron huddled with the two Beaters to discuss which of the students trying out should be made Chaser. After a long discussion, they announced their choices for Chasers and Ginny Weasley was at the top of the list. Harry also announced he would be training a Seeker to take over when he finished at Hogwarts and told Colin he would help the younger boy train.
As the Gryffindors trudged up to the castle, Tracey lingered to help Xiomara with the Quidditch balls. "What'd you think, Tracey?"
"Interesting," Tracey replied, lifting one end of the box containing the four balls. "I have vague memories of Quidditch, but I'd rather watch it instead of play it."
Xiomara shrugged. "Your flying has improved, but you really need to get over your fear of heights."
"I know." Tracey sighed. "I just prefer to keep my feet firmly planted on the ground."
"Why are you afraid of heights, anyway?" Xiomara asked as they climbed the front steps. "Not that I'm prying, but I _am_ curious."
Tracey thought for a moment as they approached the older witch's office. "I really don't know. That part is still a bit of a muddle."
Xiomara nodded as she opened her office door with a wave of her wand. "I understand. I just thought I'd ask."
They placed the box on its shelf and settled into chairs, Xiomara behind her desk and Tracey in front of it. "May I ask you a question?"
Xiomara pulled a cigarette out of her pocket and lit it with a tap of her wand. "Not at all. Ask away."
"Is there anything going on between you and Professor Snape?" Tracey asked, eyes bright with curiosity.
The question didn't seem to surprise the taller witch. She took a long drag of her cigarette and blew the smoke out slowly. "I suppose you could say that he and I have an...understanding." Tracey nodded and watched as Xiomara took another drag and slowly released it. "Is there a reason you asked?"
Tracey shook her head. "Just curiosity."
Xiomara nodded. "Don't you need to be somewhere else right now?"
Tracey looked at her watch and yelped. "Crud! Professor McGonagall wanted to see me two minutes ago! Bye, 'Mara."
Xiomara watched the younger witch go with a grimace. "I hate that nickname."
* * *
Just as Minerva was getting impatient, her office door banged open to admit a flushed and breathless young woman. Tracey's glasses were askew on her nose and her hair had come loose from the braid she'd pulled it back into. "You're late, Miss Cooper."
"I know." Tracey entered and closed the door behind her. "I was talking with Xiomara and lost track of time."
Minerva nodded and indicated the homework assignments sitting on her desk. "Take a look at these and tell me if you can find anything wrong with them."
Tracey picked up an assignment and began skimming through it. Making a sound of annoyance, she adjusted her glasses and resumed studying it. "They didn't do the formulas correctly. If they tried to perform this spell, they're liable to end up with a bright green hedgehog instead of Vanishing it."
Minerva made no comment, indicating the next homework assignment. Tracey picked it up and studied it carefully, bright blue eyes reminiscent of her father's. "Two mistakes in the formulas, but they cancel each other out."
Minerva indicated the last homework assignment. Tracey picked it up and stared at it. Slowly, she turned the assignment the other way and stared hard. She then turned it sideways. She turned it the other way. Finally, she looked at Minerva. "Whoever did this assignment had no clue what they were trying to do."
Minerva bit back a smile. Instead, she tapped the first assignment. "Your assessment of this assignment was correct. I had the student re-work the formulas before I allowed them to attempt the spell." Her finger tapped the next assignment. "I allowed this student to attempt the spell, but asked that they re-work the formulas." She indicated the assignment Tracey still held. "This student was told to do the homework over again before I even allowed them _near_ a hedgehog."
Tracey stifled a chuckle and set the assignment back on the desk. "Was there anything else, Professor?"
"Yes, Professor Dumbledore asked to speak with both of us tonight after dinner," Minerva informed the younger witch. "He didn't say what he wished to speak with us about."
Tracey nodded. "Thanks, Professor. I'll be going now."
Minerva nodded and watched the young woman go. "She's so much like her father."
Chapter Seven - Settling In
A/N: Some more evil writer's block, but it's taken care of. Enjoy!
Because Tracey looked to be about the same age as the older students, some were disinclined to give her the respect she deserved as a member of the staff at Hogwarts. This concerned Albus and Minerva, but Tracey managed to nip any disrespect in the bud, mainly by refusing to take any guff from any student. Though most were taller than her, she had long ago learned how to use her size to her advantage, although she had to adapt her methods somewhat to allow for magic. It didn't take long for the students to learn it wasn't wise to cross Professor Cooper.
The week passed by in a blur for Tracey. True to her word, she didn't read the books Professor McGonagall had given her to study for the Animagus transformation except after dinner. She spent the days sitting in on the sixth and seventh year classes, just listening, so she could get a feel for how each professor taught their classes, and get used to having lots of students around. For this, Tracey was grateful. It meant she would be less likely to screw up in front of the students when she started teaching Transfiguration classes. She was nervous enough about it in the first place. Though she'd progressed rapidly during the two or so months since her rather unorthodox arrival, she was still a little unsure of herself.
When Saturday arrived, Tracey breathed a sigh of relief. She had enjoyed sitting in on the classes, but there was something to be said for leisure time. Tracey curled up in a corner of her sofa with one of the books Professor McGonagall had given her, fully intending to devote part of her day to reading, but a knock at the door disturbed her before she even read a word. Sighing, she set the book aside and got up to answer the door. "Good morning, Professor."
"Hello, Miss Cooper," Professor McGonagall replied, adjusting the pile of parchment in her arms. "May I come in?"
Tracey nodded and stepped aside. "Yes, Professor."
The older witch swept past Tracey into the room. "I have some assignments for you to mark, Miss Cooper."
Tracey stared at the pile as Professor McGonagall set it on the writing desk. "You want me to mark _all_ of those, Professor?"
She nodded as she turned to Tracey. "Yes, these assignments are all from the first year through third year classes."
"That wasn't my concern, Professor," the redhead confessed.
"Oh?" A black eyebrow rose. "What _is_ your concern, Miss Cooper?"
Tracey met the professor's dark green gaze a little sheepishly. "I was hoping to get some extra reading in today."
Professor McGonagall smiled slightly. "Mark those assignments, and then you'll be free to read whatever you wish."
Tracey nodded. "Yes, Professor."
The dark-haired witch left without another word. Tracey glanced at the sofa, sighed, sat down at her writing desk, picked up her quill, dipped it in an inkbottle full of red ink, pulled the pile of parchment towards her, and began to read.
* * *
Tracey was very nervous. Minerva had asked her to teach the first year Gryffindors and Slytherins that morning and Tracey had agreed. She'd spent the previous evening preparing for the class itself instead of doing her reading for the Animagi transformation. Now she sat behind the teacher's desk, auburn hair pulled back into a twist, rectangular glasses perched in the bridge of her nose, and deep blue robes embroidered with silver layered over a pale gray dress. She struggled to appear calm, wanting her father to be proud of her.
She watched quietly as the students filed into the classroom. Many did double takes when they saw Tracey instead of Minerva, but they took their seats without commenting. They assumed they would be given an explanation. When the last of the students had taken their seats, Tracey stood to address them. "Hello, class. Professor McGonagall asked me to teach today's lesson. All I ask from you is that you give me the same respect you give Professor McGonagall. Is that clear?"
There was a general murmur of assent. "Good. Now, it is my understanding that most of you can Transfigure a match into a needle now." Students nodded. "Excellent. Now we will be moving on to something a little more complex."
The students exchanged excited looks. "Before we do, however," Tracey flicked her wand at the board and it was soon covered with her neat, precise, slightly loopy handwriting, "you will need to copy down these notes."
The students groaned and rummaged in their bags for parchment, quills, and ink. As they did so, Tracey collected the homework Minerva had assigned them over the weekend. Leaving it in a pile on the desk, she moved up and down the rows, making sure the students were copying the notes. "Miss Lawson, that doesn't look like the notes to me."
The redhead blushed furiously and, stuffing the letter she'd been writing into her bag, she hastily resumed copying the notes.
"Mr. Bates, have you finished copying the notes?" she asked the boy with curly brown hair beside the redhead.
"Yes, Professor." He handed his parchment to her.
She skimmed over what he'd written. "You missed a whole paragraph, Mr. Bates." She returned his parchment to him.
"Where?" he asked, puzzled.
"Right there." She pointed it out.
"Oh." He began scribbling furiously.
"Slow down," she told him, "it's not a race."
He nodded without looking up and his scribbling slowed down.
When they finished copying the notes, Tracey handed out bottle caps for the students to change into buttons. As they attempted to do so, Tracey again moved up and down the rows, providing help when it was needed and prodding students when necessary.
By the end of the class period, few students had managed to change their bottle cap into a button. Tracey collected the results of their attempts and sent them on their way. When the door closed behind the last student, a sleek silver tabby cat who'd been watching from the windowsill jumped down and turned into Minerva. Tracey smiled timidly as the older woman approached the teacher's desk. "Well?"
Minerva didn't speak for a moment, choosing to study the notes Tracey had left on the board. Finally, she turned to the smaller woman. "You have a knack for teaching, Miss Cooper."
Tracey's smile became bolder. "Thank you, Professor."
Minerva nodded to the pile of parchment on the desk. "Mark those tonight before you do any reading."
Tracey sighed and nodded. "Yes, Professor."
* * *
"Strawberry laces." The gargoyle jumped aside and Harry stepped onto the spiral staircase. He reached the top and knocked on the door. It opened silently and he entered Professor Dumbledore's office.
"Good evening, Harry," the Headmaster greeted him. "Have a seat."
Harry sat in the chair opposite Professor Dumbledore. The Pensieve sat on the desk between them, patterns of white light dancing on the ceiling above. As Harry watched, Dumbledore put his wand to his temple and, drawing it away, placed the thought in the Pensieve. When he was done, he looked at Harry. "There is a reason Professor Snape placed some of his thoughts in the Pensieve before teaching you, Harry."
The boy looked down at his knees, ashamed. "There are some things he didn't want me to see."
"Yes, Harry," Dumbledore replied. "That is why I must ask you not to look into the Pensieve anymore. To do so is to invade the privacy of whoever's memory you find yourself in. Whether it is mine or Professor Snape's."
Harry looked up and met the Headmaster's gaze. "Yes, Sir."
Dumbledore picked up the Pensieve and set it aside. "Now, are you ready to begin?"
Harry nodded. "Yes, Sir."
"Very well." Dumbledore sat down in the chair behind his desk. "You must first learn to empty your mind. Let go of all your feelings, Harry. Let go of your anger and your hate. They will only give Voldemort a foothold."
Without realizing it, Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Slowly, his eyes drifted shut.
"Good Harry. Now, I want you to focus on keeping your mind clear. Don't let me into your mind." Harry nodded. "_Legimens._"
Harry could see his memories, but it was as if there was a gauzy material between himself and the memories. He fought the invasion with his mind, pushing Dumbledore out. When Harry opened his eyes, he was still sitting in front of Dumbledore's desk and the Headmaster had his wand out, but relaxed.
"Very good, Harry. It's a start." Dumbledore began scooping his thoughts out of the Pensieve. "Don't forget to clear your mind before you go to bed every night. I'll see you on Wednesday."
Harry nodded and left, feeling a little drained.
* * *
Tracey, bundled up against the cold September winds, joined Xiomara for the Quidditch tryouts, particularly Gryffindor. "I'm glad Dumbledore let Potter rejoin Gryffindor's team."
Tracey nodded and her eyes were drawn to the boy, who was standing with Ron Weasley. "They need three new players, don't they?"
Xiomara nodded as she watched Ron take flight. The redhead had become much more confident in his abilities since Gryffindor had won the Quidditch cup. "Although it wouldn't hurt for them to find two new Beaters."
Tracey shrugged. "You know the game better than I do, although Ron's idea of having them strictly protect the Chasers in that last game against Ravenclaw seems to have worked."
Xiomara nodded again. "Yes, it did."
Neither said anything more, watching as students of varying levels of talents and skills passed the Quaffle back and forth, occasionally trying to get a shot past Ron. Harry hovered nearby, watching closely as the Quaffle changed hands. Finally, Harry called a halt to the tryouts and he and Ron huddled with the two Beaters to discuss which of the students trying out should be made Chaser. After a long discussion, they announced their choices for Chasers and Ginny Weasley was at the top of the list. Harry also announced he would be training a Seeker to take over when he finished at Hogwarts and told Colin he would help the younger boy train.
As the Gryffindors trudged up to the castle, Tracey lingered to help Xiomara with the Quidditch balls. "What'd you think, Tracey?"
"Interesting," Tracey replied, lifting one end of the box containing the four balls. "I have vague memories of Quidditch, but I'd rather watch it instead of play it."
Xiomara shrugged. "Your flying has improved, but you really need to get over your fear of heights."
"I know." Tracey sighed. "I just prefer to keep my feet firmly planted on the ground."
"Why are you afraid of heights, anyway?" Xiomara asked as they climbed the front steps. "Not that I'm prying, but I _am_ curious."
Tracey thought for a moment as they approached the older witch's office. "I really don't know. That part is still a bit of a muddle."
Xiomara nodded as she opened her office door with a wave of her wand. "I understand. I just thought I'd ask."
They placed the box on its shelf and settled into chairs, Xiomara behind her desk and Tracey in front of it. "May I ask you a question?"
Xiomara pulled a cigarette out of her pocket and lit it with a tap of her wand. "Not at all. Ask away."
"Is there anything going on between you and Professor Snape?" Tracey asked, eyes bright with curiosity.
The question didn't seem to surprise the taller witch. She took a long drag of her cigarette and blew the smoke out slowly. "I suppose you could say that he and I have an...understanding." Tracey nodded and watched as Xiomara took another drag and slowly released it. "Is there a reason you asked?"
Tracey shook her head. "Just curiosity."
Xiomara nodded. "Don't you need to be somewhere else right now?"
Tracey looked at her watch and yelped. "Crud! Professor McGonagall wanted to see me two minutes ago! Bye, 'Mara."
Xiomara watched the younger witch go with a grimace. "I hate that nickname."
* * *
Just as Minerva was getting impatient, her office door banged open to admit a flushed and breathless young woman. Tracey's glasses were askew on her nose and her hair had come loose from the braid she'd pulled it back into. "You're late, Miss Cooper."
"I know." Tracey entered and closed the door behind her. "I was talking with Xiomara and lost track of time."
Minerva nodded and indicated the homework assignments sitting on her desk. "Take a look at these and tell me if you can find anything wrong with them."
Tracey picked up an assignment and began skimming through it. Making a sound of annoyance, she adjusted her glasses and resumed studying it. "They didn't do the formulas correctly. If they tried to perform this spell, they're liable to end up with a bright green hedgehog instead of Vanishing it."
Minerva made no comment, indicating the next homework assignment. Tracey picked it up and studied it carefully, bright blue eyes reminiscent of her father's. "Two mistakes in the formulas, but they cancel each other out."
Minerva indicated the last homework assignment. Tracey picked it up and stared at it. Slowly, she turned the assignment the other way and stared hard. She then turned it sideways. She turned it the other way. Finally, she looked at Minerva. "Whoever did this assignment had no clue what they were trying to do."
Minerva bit back a smile. Instead, she tapped the first assignment. "Your assessment of this assignment was correct. I had the student re-work the formulas before I allowed them to attempt the spell." Her finger tapped the next assignment. "I allowed this student to attempt the spell, but asked that they re-work the formulas." She indicated the assignment Tracey still held. "This student was told to do the homework over again before I even allowed them _near_ a hedgehog."
Tracey stifled a chuckle and set the assignment back on the desk. "Was there anything else, Professor?"
"Yes, Professor Dumbledore asked to speak with both of us tonight after dinner," Minerva informed the younger witch. "He didn't say what he wished to speak with us about."
Tracey nodded. "Thanks, Professor. I'll be going now."
Minerva nodded and watched the young woman go. "She's so much like her father."