DISCLAIMER: All Harry Potter people, places and things are the work and property of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., Bloomsbury, Raincoast, Scholastic, yadda yadda yadda. If anyone thinks I invented this stuff, they must have been living under a rock for the past 4 years--and in that case, why the hell are they reading HP fanfic anyway? I'm also making no profit from this, so please don't sue--all you'll get is an ancient laptop and a decidedly eclectic book collection.
A/N: Welcome back, everyone! This chapter starts the story I was really intending to tell when I started The Shepherd, Book 1 being just the backstory, though it ended up growing into a novel in its own right. Be prepared for a long wait for this one to be finished, though. As a fourth-year university student, writing isn't so much of a hobby as a procrastination technique, when faced with my mountains of essays. Chapter 2 should immediately follow this one or be up in the next couple days, others will follow hopefully after Christmas.
Also, for those that read The Shepherd: Book 1; the first time around, I've made a couple wee changes to that text, here and there, from information gleaned from Order of the Phoenix. So if you see something in here that contradicts something I said in Shepherd 1, place go back and check the text before writing to me! You can find it on FFN, the Snapefic Liberation Front Yahoo!Group, as well as on my brand spanking new webpage (see my bio for the link!).
And the same rules from the last story still apply: if I've messed up something in canon, write me! Eve will still not be best friends with the trio, related to anyone from canon, or save the day (or end up as a damsel in distress requiring a climactic rescue, for that matter). And Severus will kill me if I make him Mr. Fluffy-Bunny--if I do, feel free to whack me over the head.
And now, on with the fic!
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The Shepherd - Book 2
by Karen S., "Potions Student".
Chapter One: A Friday in August
King's Cross Station tends to be very busy on summer weekends as Londoners crowd its platforms, desperate to escape the city. Pushing and jostling one another, children and luggage in tow, they hurry onto trains to Cambridge, Peterborough, York; anywhere away from the smog and noise of London.
Forecasted as an unusually nice weekend, this first Friday in August was particularly busy and not a good day for travelling - that is, unless you wanted to get lost in the crowd.
A young woman pushed a trolley across the concourse, oddly calm compared to the harried holiday-makers that swarmed around her. Few people gave her a first look, much less a second. Short, somewhat on the heavy side, with wire-rim glasses and unremarkable wavy brown hair that fell to her shoulders, she looked the height of ordinariness. The neat twin set and long, summer skirt she wore would have looked freshly pretty on others. On her, it never garnered a second glance.
Probably the only thing that would have made her stand out was her relaxed appearance and unhurried, steady gait; the walk of someone who knows precisely where they are going and that they have enough time to get there.
The woman walked toward the barrier between platforms nine and ten, pushing her trolley up to it and leaning against its handle, as if waiting for something. Had any passers-by paid her any attention, they would have seen what it was she was waiting for, but would not have believed their eyes. One moment she was standing there, the next she seemed to slide through the very solid barrier, and disappear altogether. But no one saw it as they hurried by, and so Eve Berger made the familiar move onto Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters with the Muggle world still none the wiser.
The sensation was just as she remembered it: the feeling of falling to the side, the rush of noise in her ears as she was momentarily plunged into blackness, before finally coming out onto the platform. Above her the familiar, ornate clock chimed a quarter to ten, as before her the bright scarlet engine of the Hogwarts Express belched steam over the platform. Through the cloud she could see a few figures bustling around the carriages, greeting each other or hurrying to and fro.
Pushing her trolley toward the luggage car just behind the engine, she had her first glimpse of something unfamiliar: the two carriages which were coupled to the baggage car, each bearing an engraved plate. One said, "Professors' Carriage", the other, "Professors' Dining Car". She remembered the Hogwarts Express on the day the students headed to school; a long line of carriages stretching across the platform like the different segments of a large, iron caterpillar. But she was no longer a student. As teacher, she and the other professors would be arriving a month before the students, to prepare for the upcoming school year.
Eve leaned over and double-checked the card on her trunk for the tenth time that day, both to make sure it was properly directed, as well as to try and make herself believe what was printed on it. Prof. Eve Berger, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Professor Berger. She still had to smile at the sound of it.
After parking her trolley in the short luggage rank, she lifted her cat carrier and briefcase from on top of her trunk, then moved down the platform. Nervous butterflies ricocheted around her stomach, and she was grateful when she spotted a familiar face by the entrance to the carriage, ushering some unfamiliar faces aboard.
"Professor McGonagall!" Eve called, and the woman turned. McGonagall's face looked ever slightly more lined, a very few strands of grey in her obsidian-black hair, but for the most part she had not changed since Eve had last seen her, three years previous.
McGonagall smiled as she spotted Eve, and leaned off the bottom step of the carriage entrance to shake her hand and take her briefcase.
"Eve Berger, I nearly didn't recognize you out of school uniform. Good to see that at least one new teacher this year is from my own house. Here, come aboard. We'll be getting underway in a few minutes."
Eve carefully made her way up the few steps and through the sliding door into the carriage, looking around in wonderment as she entered.
The carriage looked like something a turn-of-the-century millionaire would have owned. Instead of being divided into smaller compartments like the students' train, this carriage was open, looking more like a long sitting room than a train car. The walls were covered in deep blue wallpaper with elaborate silver-leaf scrollwork, silver hanging gas lamps, mahogany tables surrounded by blue damask-upholstered chairs. It had a particularly Victorian richness about it.
Most of the teachers had arrived, or so she assumed. There didn't seem to be enough people on board for all the teachers to be present, but there were very few seats left. Eve slid into an armchair, the one opposite it vacant for the time being.
Professors Sinistra and Vector arrived at the last minute, calling a greeting to Eve as they made their way down the car. These two were apparently the last to arrive, as almost as soon as they took their seats, the whistle gave an ear-splitting scream and after a momentary shudder the train began to move.
Eve looked out the window, heart thumping as she watched King's Cross begin to recede, the train heading through the London suburbs. The view was so familiar that she felt a momentary disorientation. It was hard to believe that she was on her way back to Hogwarts. The three years she'd been away seemed such a long time, and yet the view from the train and the gentle rocking sensation as it clattered along the tracks was so familiar that it felt like no time at all.
Once they were underway, Eve slipped into one of the lavatories at the end of the compartment and changed into her witch's robes. It was a simple task, all she had to do was to tap herself with her wand and murmur the counter-charm to the transfiguring spell she'd cast on herself earlier. She watched as her cardigan grew into a navy robe, her clothing transforming into a reasonable replica of a late Edwardian style, with a navy gored skirt and neat white shirtwaist. She liked using that spell--it felt wonderfully secretive to wear something unusual that no one else could see, like wearing naughty knickers under a very conservative suit.
Another tap of her wand and the sides of her hair pulled themselves into a small plait at the back of her head, the rest of her hair hanging loose. For someone who had never really bothered to learn to do complicated hairstyles, hair-styling spells were a godsend.
Eve looked at herself in the mirror for a moment, turning this way and that, checking that her appearance was right. Though by no means the ideal of female beauty (she was a few stone too heavy for that, and a few inches too short), Eve smiled at her reflection. She looked like herself, neat and presentable. Excessive primping or preening would just have looked awkward as it wasn't in her nature. Besides, with her new robes and her hair up, she looked like a Hogwarts professor. Straightening her shoulders and toning down her smile, she walked back out into the compartment, pausing to talk to some of her old teachers as she made her way back to her seat.
It seemed hardly any time before the teachers were called to the dining car for lunch, and Eve was soon joined at her table by McGonagall, Vector, and a dark-haired woman she didn't recognize.
"Oh Eve, did you ever meet Salacia when you were at Hogwarts?" Vector asked, introducing the women beside her as Salacia Wyvern. "I think she was a couple years ahead of you."
"Nice to meet you," Salacia said politely and offered a hand to shake.
Eve took it; Salacia's grip was firm, but not tight. "Same to you. Is this your first year teaching at Hogwarts?" she asked, and they exchanged the usual small talk for a couple minutes while McGonagall and Vector filled each other in on how they'd spent their summer holidays. Salacia was the Assistant Potions Professor, and had been teaching for a year.
"The conference would have been more fun had attendance been larger," Vector was saying as Eve tuned into their conversation, "But a lot of people from out of the country didn't want to risk coming, even with all the security measures the directors took. Then again, a lot of British Arithmancists didn't come for the same reason."
McGonagall nodded. "We had a few parents write and tell us they were sending their children to schools abroad, as they felt it was safer for them to be out of the country entirely. Though most parents seem to realize that, in Britain, Hogwarts is the safest place for their children to be."
"How many black letters were there this year?" Vector asked, quietly.
"Five for the first years, about a dozen for upper years. They're letters written on mourning parchment," she added, seeing Eve's puzzled expression.
"Ah," Eve said, taking only a second to figure it out. Replies on mourning parchment meant that the student in question had been killed, likely with the rest of their family. The Daily Prophet had reported a few occasions where an entire family had been murdered by Death Eaters. One of her co-workers had lost a brother, sister-in-law and two nieces in that way. Eve well remembered her last three years at Hogwarts and the expressions of those who had just had a black envelope dropped in their lap. It was still beyond her comprehension how anyone could look in the eyes of an innocent child and commit the kind of atrocities the Prophet had only hinted at. But the fact that there were those who could was all too apparent.
McGonagall shook her head. "At least we're doing something about it. When I think of the bloody Ministry--oh, sorry Eve, I mean--"
"Don't worry, Professor. I wouldn't be here if I wasn't as frustrated with the Ministry as you are," Eve replied with a small smile. While the Ministry had eventually accepted that You-Know-Who was back (only after having their headquarters broken into like it was a child's piggy bank, mind), they had never reached much efficiency as an opposing force. Except for the Aurors and possibly the Department of Mysteries (no one was sure what they did, so one couldn't say for sure), most departments were still uncertain of what they could do to help, at a time when complete mobilization was essential for the war effort. It was no secret amongst most of the Ministry staff that most of the resistance was being run out of Hogwarts, though no one would ever officially acknowledge so.
Vector changed the subject to the upcoming school year and the usual small things which occupied so much importance at Hogwarts; who the Head Boy and Girl would be, who were the prefects, what the plans were for the Welcoming Feast and the other school rituals. Wyvern spoke up occasionally, though for the most part like Eve she was silent, evidently preferring to listen.
Eve had other things floating around in her mind anyway, questions she would like to have asked McGonagall if she felt she had a chance of getting a straight answer, things which were an object of curiosity but likely none of her business. The fact that there was an Assistant Potions Professor, for one. None of the other teachers had assistants; at least none that she had heard of. She had her suspicions as to the reason, of course. Having found out about Snape's role in the last war during her first year, when it was announced that You-Know-Who was back she had assumed Snape would start spying again, a theory which was strengthened when she noticed that he would sometimes disappear for a day or so, and look rather worn-out when he returned. She had never even entertained the thought of asking Snape if her theory was true, as there was no way he would tell her, and besides, it really was none of her business. But the fact that he had an assistant was another piece in the puzzle.
She was also curious about what had changed at Hogwarts because of the war. She'd had a few inklings of it in her discussions with Dumbledore and McGonagall over the last couple months, but had yet to see if the war had changed Hogwarts too. That question would have to wait, however. It was something better discussed in private, and it was obvious that many of the teachers wanted to spend the trip in looking forward to the new year and reminiscing about the summer. Eve couldn't blame them. There were many times that she simply wanted to ignore the threat hanging over the wizarding world, even if it was only for an hour or two.
The rest of the trip passed pleasantly enough, Eve spending most of it either knitting or chatting with the teachers. She didn't have much of an opportunity to meet the those she didn't already know, but Sinistra told her that Dumbledore would introduce everyone at dinner that night.
Eve couldn't help but grin as the train chugged into Hogsmeade Station, the sky indigo as the sun sank behind the mountains surrounding the village and school. It was a clear, summer night and as she stepped off the train she inhaled the familiar smell of the clean mountain air, smelling of pine trees and wildflowers.
The familiar carriages were waiting, though they weren't quite as comforting a sight as they should have been. She saw quite a few teachers' faces tighten as they looked between the traces, no doubt seeing the Thestrals which pulled the carriages. Eve silently sent up a prayer of thanks that she still couldn't see them. Ever since she had found out what they were and that one had to have seen someone die to see them, her curiosity about the creatures that pulled the carriages had been squashed.
Eve could hardly contain her excitement as the carriages rattled along, craning her neck for the first view of Hogwarts. Finally they rounded a bend and passed through the school gates, the castle appearing across a small bay of Hogwarts Lake. It didn't look nearly so bright as it had whenever she had arrived back at school as a student, but there were still yellow lights twinkling welcomingly from some of the windows, and she felt a rush of contentment. She was home again.
The carriages pulled up to the front doors and disgorged their passengers. As Eve stepped down from her carriage, she looked up and saw the familiar shape of Professor Dumbledore silhouetted in the large doorway and felt another surge of glee. The headmaster had always been so kind and patient with her, she had missed talking with him in her years away. Inside the hall, torches burnt brightly in their brackets, and Eve couldn't help but look at the main staircase with a feeling of homecoming. It was all so familiar that for a moment it felt as though she'd only returned after a very long summer away.
Professor Dumbledore was in fine form, his eyes twinkling merrily as he addressed the assembled teachers from the stairs. "Welcome back everyone! It is wonderful so see so many familiar faces, both those I know as teachers and those I remember as students. You've had a long journey, so I will save the rest of my announcements until dinner. Everyone can head to their quarters and clean up a little, and dinner will be served in the staffroom in half an hour's time. Just a casual dinner, mind. We'll have a formal dinner at the end of the week, once all the teachers are here. Off you go!"
"Berger, I'll show you to your quarters," McGonagall said, taking Eve's briefcase and they joined the stream of teachers climbing the stairs. They walked up four flights, then turned down a corridor to their right, McGonagall walking briskly, with the ease of someone who knows exactly where they're going, while Eve tried to remember the route.
Finally they approached a heavy oak door at the end of the corridor and McGonagall tapped the lock once with her wand before pushing the door open. "You can set whatever password you want--simply place your wand on the lock on the inside of the door and say whatever it is you want to use as a password. Here we are, your office."
Eve gasped as the oil lamps lit with their entrance and she saw her new office. It was a fair-sized room, rectangular but the far wall was shaped in a half-circle, and had a curved window-seat below high, leaded-glass windows. In front of this was a desk with a crimson wing-back chair behind it and two Windsor chairs in front. There was a large fireplace on the right wall, the only place on that or any of the other straight walls which was not lined in bookshelves. The bookshelves even had a ladder that ran on a track around the shelves, so that she could reach even the top shelf. A large crimson rug covered most of the floor and there were two forest-green, wing-backed chairs in front of the fire. It looked warm and cosy, and it was all hers. Eve had to fight the urge to pinch herself.
McGonagall was already moving toward one end of the room, apparently starting to pull a book off one shelf next to the windows; only she didn't pull the book out, simply tipped it on its spine and let go. With a slight grinding noise, the bookshelf opened into the room, revealing a curving stone staircase behind it.
Eve grinned. A secret passage! She couldn't have already loved her office more if she'd picked it herself.
Eve followed McGonagall up the stairs, peering through the arrow-slit windows to see a glimpse of moonlight reflected off the lake. Another oak door stood at the top of the stairs, and this McGonagall opened easily.
"The book that activated the secret door will only respond to the touch of those you trust, and only when you want visitors, so you needn't worry about locking this door. Good! I see all your things have been put away by the house-elves, though you can rearrange things to suit your taste."
Eve in the doorway, stunned into silence for a moment as she took in the sight of her new bedroom. It was the same shape as the room below, though a little shorter, with the same curved section of windows, though in the centre of this was a pair of french doors leading out onto a small balcony. A huge bed loomed to her left--At least a queen size, Eve thought, so high that there was a small, three-step stair by its side, obviously so the sleeper could get in without climbing. Opposite the bed was another large fireplace, this one flanked by a wardrobe on the right and a vanity on the left. Bookcases lined almost all of the far wall, the only exception being a door which Eve assumed led to the bathroom. Above the fireplace hung a beautiful medieval-looking tapestry, gold threads glinting in the gaslights set in silver sconces around the room. A blue and white jacquard-patterned rug covered the stone floor. The bed had dark blue curtains, as did the windows, each bordered with a silver fleur-de-lis pattern, and the pattern was echoed in the two wingback chairs nestled in the curve of the windows, each dotted with tiny blue fleur-de-lis on a white background. Despite the heavy curtains, the room felt airy. Eve wasn't sure where to look, little things kept popping out at her every time she glanced around. It was all so overwhelming.
McGonagall gave a very small smile, obviously taking pleasure in Eve's astonishment and delight. Eve idly wondered if she had reacted this way when she first came to Hogwarts. It was rather hard to imagine McGonagall being speechless.
"The fireplace in your office is connected to the Floo network; this one allows only messages from whomever you choose. Simply tap the mantel and say the names. Even then, they cannot see into the room unless you tap the mantel when they call. I'll let you freshen up before dinner. Your bathroom is right through that door. I'll see you in half an hour, shall I?"
McGonagall breezed out, leaving Eve standing in the middle of her room, trying to take it all in.
The trance was quickly broken, as Erik hopped off Eve's bed and slithered around her legs, meowing loudly for attention. A food and water bowl stood by the hearth, both filled. Eve picked him up and held him on her shoulder, placing her ear against his side and listening to him purr as he rubbed his head against hers. A moment of familiarity, then she detached Erik's claws from her robes and placed him on the ground again. She hadn't much time to prepare for dinner.
Twenty minutes later she was in the corridor outside her rooms again, having cleaned up, changed, and remembered to set the password as she left. Luckily the directions to the main stairs were fairly straightforward, and within minutes she was standing in front of the staffroom door, feeling a little odd as she opened it. She had only been to the staffroom a couple times before when she'd needed to see a teacher, and so had never really gone inside it. It looked much as she remembered, however; a long, narrow room with a fireplace, many mismatched armchairs and a wardrobe at the far end. Tonight, however, there was a large, oval table in the centre of the room, set for dinner.
As she walked in, she caught sight of someone who looked familiar, but...no, that couldn't be Snape, could it? It was a tall, thin man, black-haired, as Snape was, but the hair was glossy and slightly wavy, instead of the greasy curtain she remembered. Besides, this man was wearing plum-coloured robes, and she had never seen Snape in anything but the plainest black.
Place cards were set behind each plate, and as Eve moved around the table looking for hers she finally caught sight of the man's face. He was definitely not Snape. This man had a long, narrow face, as Snape did, but his nose was more aquiline than crooked, his skin rosy, and his look very boyish.
Eve's placecard was directly across from not-Snape, and he looked up as she sat down, giving her a genuine, friendly smile. "Hallo, there. I'm Crispin Livingston-Bottomley, the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Oh, and please call me Crispin, the last name's far too long to use in conversation." Eve introduced herself, smiling back. His speech was very precice with an upper-crust kind of accent, but his manner was warm. "Sorry, I'd shake hands, but I'd probably knock something over. You're a new teacher as well? Good to know there's at least one other person who's new at this."
"It is. I won't feel half such an idiot if there's someone else who's as dazed as I am," Eve replied.
Professor Sinistra was seated next to Crispin and she gave both of them a smile. "Oh don't worry you two, we were all in the same boat once, as long ago as it was."
They talked for a few minutes as the rest of the teachers drifted in. Professor Binns was seated on Eve's left, and Snape's placecard was on her right, so Eve was glad she at least had been seated across from two people obviously eager to chat. However, when Dumbledore walked in and welcomed them all back to Hogwarts, Snape still hadn't taken his place.
Odd. It doesn't seem like Dumbledore to start without everyone, and Snape is never late, Eve thought. Her attention couldn't wander far, however, as Dumbledore was introducing the new teachers, and Eve had to smile and give a small wave at everyone as she was introduced. Other than Crispin and herself, there was one other new teacher, Amelia Throckmorton, Assistant Professor of Transfiguration. Wyvern wasn't the only assistant professor then. When she thought about it, it made sense to Eve that Snape and McGonagall would both have assistants. Doubtless both were rather busy with their part of the war effort, and McGonagall would probably have to pick up more of the management of Hogwarts, as Dumbledore was basically leading the resistance.
Dumbledore also asked for a moment of silence for the previous Transfiguration Assistant Professor, who had been murdered over the summer. It was a name Eve didn't recognise except from the front page of the Daily Prophet, another wizard who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
That was three teachers lost since the war started; amazing, really, that it wasn't more. Trelawney had died the summer after the Ministry finally admitted what was going on; no one knew for sure what had happened but the rumour at the time had been that she had made a couple accurate predictions, and Voldemort had wanted to know what else she had seen for the future. When she couldn't tell him anything, she was killed. In a sad way, it was more the fact that she had been kidnapped from Diagon Alley that had made headlines, not who she was. After that security was tightened in Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade and other key public places, but few people remembered the name of the witch that had died for their safety.
Professor Sprout had been next, murdered the year after Eve had graduated. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time, visiting her brother, an Unspeakable, for Christmas when the Death Eaters attacked him and his family. Naturally they left no one alive, and so another name had been added to the lists of the fallen, another obituary in the Prophet. At one of their summer meetings, Dumbledore had mentioned to Eve that Professor Vector was the head of Hufflepuff House now.
Dumbledore's voice changed from solemn to serious as he started on the last point of business. "This year, as you know, the curriculum has been modified slightly, to better prepare the students for the world beyond our walls. We will also be continuing with the Defense Association, which Professor Livingston-Bottomley will be taking over. I would like to stress again, however, that despite these measures, despite what we must do to prepare these children to meet the problems we now face, that Hogwarts is still to function much as it always has. We also have an obligation to prepare our students for the world after the war, and to make this a safe and welcoming place for them, where they can be children, and learn and grow into responsible adults without all the pressures of the world on their shoulders. Now on that rather serious note, let's all pursue something hopefully much more pleasant and tuck in."
At his word mountains of food appeared on the table and the teachers gladly turned to less weighty topics. Eve half-listened to the others' chatter as she helped herself to roast beef and mashed potatoes, turning Dumbledore's words over in her mind.
She'd heard the talk at the Ministry about Dumbledore's running of the school, of course. The greater part of the people she'd overheard had agreed with Dumbledore's stance, but there were those that thought he wasn't being serious enough about the threat posed by Voldemort, which was a bit rich coming from the Ministry. If the minority had their way Hogwarts would become an army camp, training child soldiers, burying students under mountains of work trying to make them perfect at everything.
Eve had never had the opportunity to respond to those opinions, but she couldn't have disagreed more. The wizarding world still needed people of all abilities and occupations, even with the war. If the children were merely trained solely to fight in war, how on earth would they live in peace? God willing the war would be won by the good side, and there would be no need for them to fight at all. Besides, they were children. The best thing to do was to try and minimize the psychological scars war would leave, let them be children. They would have to face war soon enough, probably already were facing it, losing family members and friends in its grip.
Dinner was a leisurely affair, and it was an hour and a half later that people began to push their plates away, scraping the last of the puddings from their dishes. Eve was chatting pleasantly with Crispin and Sinistra when an owl floated in through an open window, landing on the back of Dumbledore's chair and handing him a note. Eve hardly took any notice of it, as most of the teachers did, at least until Dumbledore spoke.
"Professor Berger, could I speak to you for a moment please?" His face betrayed nothing, simply looking at her with an expression of unflappable calm. His voice was nonchalant, but Eve still felt a little twist in her stomach. Something wasn't right.
Dumbledore held the door open for her as they walked into the entrance hall, then closed the door behind him before speaking.
"I understand from your resume you trained to be a Medimagic First Responder?" he asked, calmly.
Eve blinked. "Ye-es," she replied slowly, wondering what he was asking that for.
"Good. Would you kindly go up to my office? Professor Snape has informed me he is waiting for me there, but I suspect he may need some attention first."
"B-but surely Madam Pomfrey would be better. Responders only know a little more than first aid--"
"I know. But Madam Pomfrey, as you may have noticed at dinner, is not here. She is in London for a conference and on a sadly needed buying trip for the school's stores. I would do it, but I still need to have a word with a few of the teachers. Will you do this for me?" As if she'd ever refuse a request from Dumbledore, and she was certain that he knew it, too.
"Of course."
"Thank you. The password is 'ice lolly'. I will be up in a few minutes."
Of all the people to perform first aid on, it had to be Snape, the one person who would likely make the worst kind of patient. Her stomach tightening, Eve turned and headed up to the headmaster's office.