"Since you are in your sixth year here at Hogwarts you hardly need a run- through of my expectations. This year we will be covering a variety of rather complicated potions, which will be continued in your seventh year. Now, I stress that the only reason you are here is because you have managed to do well on your O.W.L.s, so I expect the same dedication to this class as the class of last year. Any shirking will result in removal." Snape paused, surveying his captive audience. His eyes lingered on Harry Potter for a moment, trying not to sneer. Much to his chagrin the boy had made a fair score on his Potion OWL, and was thus accepted into sixth year potions. Weasley had made it as well, and there was no surprise that Granger had received top marks on everything. Another attempt to hide a sneer. No Longbottom; that was no surprise. The boy was lucky to cut his roots right.

He took a deep breath before continuing. "Now, this week will be devoted to the Polyjuice Potion. It's a difficult combination, and I doubt that any of you shall succeed the first time, unless you've brewed it before." He cast a sly look in Hermione's direction. "After the initial brewing it takes one month to mature. After that month long period we will begin the testing." A pause. "But first things first. I see you all have your cauldrons, and I trust they've been scoured thoroughly. Ah, Goyle, I can see just by your face you must have forgotten that important detail. There's a sink in the back." He watched the chunky student scramble to the back of the room in order to wash out his cauldron. A few other students followed him. Snape sighed and waited for them to return. Children still, he thought bitterly. As soon as the last student had returned to their seat, Snape continued.

"I see by that little mishap that summer has gone to your heads. I will let you know now; I will not be so lenient as I have been today. In the future you must handle your own cauldron before lessons and if you don't, then you might end up with some, shall we say, dangerous combinations. I would not like to try those out if I were you. Hmm, where were we? Ah yes. Polyjuice Potions. I am putting you in groups of three for your first batch. Maybe in numbers there will be a chance that you can at least get it remotely correct. One person from each respective group is going to come up to my desk to pick up ingredients." He paused, thinking. "Oh, and another thing. Do try not to be wasteful. I know some of you can't help it, but try your best or I might just take the cost of replacement out of your own pocket. The directions are on the board." He tapped it once with his wand and lines of his spidery writing began to appear.

He sat down behind his desk as a queue of students formed in front of it. He took his time, carefully measuring out the exact amounts of the ingredients the potion called for. Any wastefulness and he would know. Normally he wouldn't care, but these were expensive and not to mention dangerous substances. He smirked smugly when Ron Weasely ended up in front of him, looking completely cowed. "Ah, Mr. Weasely. I know you've chosen to work with Potter and Granger, and let me assure you, if I find out about any shenanigans I shall have your head." He then handed Weasely everything he would need and turned to the next student in line.

Soon the piles of ingredients scattering his desk were greatly reduced, and he was able to sit back and watch the students' progress. He could spare a few moments before walking around to help or criticize. His eyes scanned the people working diligently. It was nice to see they had taken his threats to heart. There was no doubt in his mind that they knew he meant it. Fewer students meant fewer accidents. Fortunately there were no papers to grade yet. He could just sit back and observe. Malfoy was joking with his cronies Crabbe and Goyle, and Potter was in the midst of a hurried conversation with both Ron and Hermione.

"Please, Mr. Potter. Share with us, what is so interesting?" Snape hoped to get Potter in a trap, to embarrass him, but he was surprised by his answer.

"We were only wondering what the new Defense teacher would be like. We have that next."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure there's little she can do about your impudence, Potter. You forgot the 'Professor.'"

"I'm sorry, sir."

"Good. Now, cut the chitchat and get to work. You too Malfoy."

Fifteen minutes passed before Snape stood and began to wind his way around the classroom. He observed every group, scrutinizing their technique and attentiveness. "Miss Patil, is your bicorn horn supposed to be chunky? Are you trying to make soup, perhaps? Because if you're attempting to make a potion, you had me fooled." He lingered a moment at her cauldron, and then moved on, passing out praise or criticism. He paused in front of Ron Weasely, Harry Potter, and Hermione Granger. He stood over them like a carrion vulture, watching every movement they made. Surprisingly he could find no mistakes. "Tell me, Miss Granger, when did you last make a Polyjuice Potion?"

Hermione didn't miss a beat. "What are you talking about, sir?"

Snape sneered. "Amazingly, I can find nothing wrong with your potion. So I was just wondering when the last time you made it was. I figured you had to have made it sometime for it to be so, well, perfect."

Granger's eyes shifted away from his. "Beginner's luck, perhaps?"

Although he knew she was lying, he had no proof. "Perhaps." He pursed his lips and moved on, ready to bother someone else. To tell the truth he felt cheated; he was looking forward to torturing Potter and Company on their first day back. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Malfoy's raised hand, and spent the next fifteen minutes combining thinly veiled criticism with example as he helped the boy shred his boomslang skin. He couldn't help but wonder how Draco had ever passed his Potion OWL. Given, the boy had barely squeaked by, and if Snape had his way Malfoy wouldn't be sitting in the classroom at all. But, his father was a powerful personage and had insisted that his son continue training in potions. So, despite his abysmal OWL scores, Draco had once again installed himself between Crabbe and Goyle, joking and laughing at other's expense. Lucius had been the same way; smug, self-assured, and arrogant.

Snape sighed as he registered what time it was. "Ten inches on the properties of boomslang skin. Put your ingredients and cauldrons in the back; we shall continue tomorrow." The bell rang and he turned his back on the class, flicking his wand at the board to erase the words he had previously put up there. He slumped behind his desk, steeling himself for the first year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws that were to come.

She stood in front of the class, staring at the expectant faces. Each and every pair of eyes was fixed on hers, and she returned them glare for glare. It was necessary to make a powerful first impression; not cruel, but strong. She clasped her hands behind her back, took a deep breath and began. "Now, I have heard your Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons have been, for the most part, few and far between. I know your previous professor Remus Lupin was of some help, as was Professor Moody." She paused with a smirk playing on her face. "Or what we thought was Professor Moody." A few sniggers greeted her comment and her smirk broadened into a grin. "I also know you had a certain Delores Umbridge last year, am I correct?" She could tell by the grimaces on the faces in front of her that she was. "Well, you will find I am no Professor Umbridge. My methods are odd, my teaching style loose. Maybe it's because I've never taught before. Maybe it's because I understand what it was like to be where you are now: expectant, eager, and even if you don't admit it, easily hurt." The class breathed an audible sigh of relief. She spun on her heel and began pacing. "However," she continued, "I will not be taken advantage of. If that turns out to be so, you will I find I can be a formidable enemy, and one you do not want." She stopped in front of her desk and picked up her wand from where it laid on the edge. "To start: my name." She tapped the board and a slanted cursive name appeared on it. It read a simple 'Aislinn O'Flannery.' She repeated the name to the class, pronouncing it like 'Ashling.' "I've worked as an Auror for four years, and before that I worked for the British Museum.

"But that's a Muggle job!"

Aislinn smiled at the furiously blushing face of Neville Longbottom. "Yes, that it is. But I also lived as a Muggle for about ten years."

Sounds of disbelief met her ears and she grinned. "You heard me right. I lived as a Muggle by choice, in London." She could tell the class was confused, and she sighed. "Maybe I should start this by telling you a bit about myself. I attended Hogwarts just like you, and graduated with high marks. However, three years spent on my own in the wizarding world wore me out, so I moved to an apartment, bought a car, and went to college in London. I got a Muggle degree in anthropology and started working for the British Museum until four years ago, when I met an old friend and started working as an Auror. Up until two years ago I lived a Muggle life with a magical job. It is only recently I've moved back into this life. Any questions?" She stood facing the crowd, her hands on her hips.

"How old are you, ma'am?" asked Malfoy, smirking.

Aislinn turned to him with a smirk. "You must be Lucius' boy Draco. I've heard much about you. And as for the answer to your question, sir, it's none of your business." She grinned at his shocked face. "I think I should start taking roll." She strode to her desk and picked up a sheet of parchment. "Thomas Addicks? Ah, good. Elizabeth Bettancourt? Nice to see you."

It continued until she reached Seamus Finnegan. "Ah, Finnegan. A good Irish name. Dia dhuit."

Seamus smiled and replied, "Dia is Muire dhuit."

"You're from the Killarney Finnegans, I would wager."

Seamus nodded, and then asked, "Are you from the Dublin O'Flannerys, ma'am?"
"No, they're cousins. My family lived outside of Cork."

Seamus' face darkened visibly as he muttered a simple "oh." If Professor O'Flannery noticed this, she did not pay it any mind as she continued on. Soon roll was complete and O'Flannery retreated to her desk. "I think we should start with a course description of this year. If you, at any time want to say something, please do not be afraid to ask it. I'll answer all questions, except those concerning my age or my sex life." An audible chuckle came from the students. "I do not mind if you call me Aislinn, Professor, or O'Flannery. However, "Ash" and "Mick" are definitely out of the question." She grinned broadly at the students assembled. "This year we will be starting hexes. I understand from Dumbledore that you have covered magical creatures and curses. I know you also have a Charms class with Professor Flitwick, but hexes are something different entirely. Now, can anyone tell me how they're different?"

Hermione's hand went up like a shot and Aislinn smiled at her indulgently. "This must be the brain of the school, Miss Granger. I'm looking forward to your participation. Please, enlighten us."

Hermione began ticking through a list of why hexes were different than charms when O'Flannery cut her off. "Thank you very much, Miss Granger, but that will do for now. But those were excellent answers, each and every one of them correct. Charms are often used to manipulate objects or energy, whereas hexes are used much like curses: to manipulate people and often cause harm. Many can be quite dangerous, but then again so is the situation we are in. To put it quite bluntly I am teaching you hexes so you can defend yourself. The Ministry is having kittens that I am instructing you in this, but I feel it is necessary, as does Dumbledore." She suddenly stopped speaking and took a few deep breaths.

"This class is called 'Defense Against the Dark Arts,' and that is what I am here to help you do: defend yourself and others. So, let's begin."

The next hour was spent productively as Professor O'Flannery drilled the students in the types of hexes and when they were to be used. She gave out points like mad and took very few away. It was obvious she knew her stuff, but was patient when someone else didn't. Seamus' dour face was the only thing that appeared to be amiss in the class.

"Cheer up, Seamus," Ron said to him as they were exiting the class.

Seamus waited until he passed out of Professor O'Flannery's sight before he said anything. "Ron, I don't think you understand that she's not who she says she is. I've heard of her family, and it's not a pretty story." He hurried past Ron and down the corridor leading to Charms.

"I wonder what that was all about," said Hermione. "Of course she's who she says she is! If she wasn't Dumbledore wouldn't have hired her!"

Harry nodded, but couldn't shake his sudden suspicion. What exactly did Seamus mean? Surely she wasn't a Death Eater! Dumbledore wouldn't have allowed a Death Eater to be present on Hogwart's campus. There was no way she could deceive the headmaster...was there? Harry decided not to say anything to his friends until something more substantial in the way of evidence revealed itself. He threw one last look over his shoulder before hurrying off after Seamus.

Snape was watching her eat. She said nothing, although other teachers conversed among themselves about the day's events. He didn't miss a detail. He noted in particular how she delicately cut her meat and slowly transferred each bite into her thin mouth. She was raised in an aristocratic family that was for sure. Her table manners were impeccable. He had been trained in much the same way, although it didn't show at times. Severus snorted. She looked up at him, matching him glare for glare. She forced her lips into a tight smile. "A bit jittery today, weren't they?" she asked.

Snape snorted again. "They're like that all year. The sooner you understand that, Miss O'Flannery, the better off you'll be."

She glared, blinked, and once more transferred her gaze down to her plate. Snape had figured she would have said something bitter in return, but it seemed she didn't want to fight. Where was the angry emotion he had seen last night?

He rubbed his temples as Dumbledore began to speak. It was something about the first day of the year being pleasant and successful and other such mindless prattle. He respected Dumbledore greatly, but at that moment Severus just wished he would shut up. All he wanted was a stiff nightcap and dreamless sleep. He chanced a quick look over at his mysterious neighbor. Her eyes were still downcast, and her lips were tensed as if she was thinking of something painful. He was not surprised to see that she was rubbing her tattoo. She definitely was a nervous little bugger. I wonder what she's hiding, he thought.

As soon as Dumbledore finished his speech, Snape was off to his room. The last thing he wanted was to be cornered into doing hallway patrols tonight. The classes and bumbling students had thoroughly worn him out. It was only when he heard the loud report of heels on stone that he stopped.

He knew who it was before he turned. "It's not kind to follow people, Miss O'Flannery," he growled.

The footsteps stopped. "You left so quickly I could not stop you at dinner." It was her voice; the clipped and contrived accent merely there to disguise another, less appealing brogue.

Severus sneered although he knew she could not see his face. "I did not want to be stopped, Miss, not by the likes of you."

Silence.

He turned around slowly to see her standing about five feet away from him and very still. "What are the likes of me, Snape?" she asked. There was something feral to her voice, something dark.

Severus thought for a moment before speaking. "People like you, O'Flannery, are uncouth, contrived, and wholly unfit to be here. You should learn basic manners before you start teaching students."

Rage flared in her eyes, but she chased it back down, visibly fighting to control her anger. "And people like you, Snape, are narcissistic fools with the false belief that they are better than anyone around them, and therefore not bound by the basic laws of formality. I merely want to be your friend. If not that, at least see me as an equal. I beg you treat me as such."

Snape chuckled sardonically. "My dear woman, if you think that such eloquence will win my affection, you are sorely mistaken. Not everyone here wants to be your friend. Some of us want nothing to do with you." He gave her a sickly sweet smile and turned away, billowing down the corridor to his rooms.

Aislinn O'Flannery retreated to her own chamber quickly, hurrying down narrow hallways trying not to burst into tears. How could he! He did not even know her yet dared to make assumptions. If only he knew the truth of what she had seen... She stopped short.

A giggling spirit floated about five feet in front of her, blowing raspberries at her. Aislinn rolled her eyes at the mischievous ghost. "Peeves," she sighed irritably as she tried to go around him. It seemed Peeves had other ideas. He giggled as blocked her path.

"Silly little mick, you can't go that way!"

Aislinn glared at him and turned around, only to find Peeves lounging in front of her. "Can't go this way either."

Aislinn stamped her foot in anxiety. "Well I have to go somewhere, you annoying little fool!"

Peeves merely laughed. "Dance a jig for me, little leprechaun. Little leprechaun girl!" He laughed at her again, stuck his tongue out and disappeared.

O'Flannery wanted to scream. Would nothing go right for her that night? The students had been incredible, but that horrid Snape and belligerent ghost had ruined it for her. She half considered calling it quits and heading back to an apartment, but what good would that do? She would not go back to her Auror job. She was too under appreciated, and no one really wanted to be affiliated with her. Not with her background, anyway.

It was that moment she turned around to keep walking when she stumbled over Hermione Granger. "Sonuvabitch!" she muttered as her left elbow hit the floor. Hermione had hit her knees on the stone floor, and was wincing as she rubbed a scrape. "Are ye all right?" asked Aislinn.

Hermione nodded and accepted the proffered hand. "I am, thank you. Sorry I ran into you."

Aislinn smiled. "'S no problem, dear." She suddenly grimaced as she noticed Hermione's smiling face. It was obvious she wasn't trying to hide her accent. She blushed.

Hermione must have realized what was going through her teacher's mind. "Don't worry," she said. "I like it better when you don't hide it. It gives you personality."

Aislinn grinned. "Thank 'ee. I've just never really, y' know, been happy with it since I've lived in London. Some o' the English aren't too keen on the Irish."

"I don't mind them at all."

"Well bless ye child. But ye should head on t' bed. See ye tomorrow." Aislinn waited until Hermione's back disappeared down the hallway before she continued on her way. At least there was someone here who appreciated what she was doing.

Hermione walked jauntily into the Griffyndor common room.

"What's the pep in your step for?" asked Ron with a raised eyebrow.

Hermione smiled a patronizing smile and began humming.

"Come on, out with your secret," muttered an exasperated Ron, rolling his eyes.

"Oh, I just found out something about our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor," she said, grinning happily. "She was the one at the club."

"I knew it," shouted a triumphant Ron and he did a little dance in his chair. "I told you she was the one!" He paused and stared at Hermione for a moment in confusion. "But how did you know?"

Hermione shrugged. "I ran into her in the hall, and she conveniently forgot to disguise her accent. When she speaks regularly she sounds just like the woman on stage, although a bit less drunk. If you get close enough to see her face she has the same features. It's her."
Harry made a little noise of indifference. "So she plays at a club. Big deal."

Hermione glared. "Just thought you'd want to know since you had some silly bet going."

Ron slapped his forehead. "That's right! Harry you owe me five Sickles." Harry sighed and pulled out his money purse. Ron's smile of delight could light up the room. "This means we can go see her play. That is, if she still has her band together."

Hermione shook her head. "Nope, Ron. I don't want to get us in trouble by leaving school grounds. I should have never told you!" She sighed and jounced up the stairs to the girl's dormitory.

"What got into her, I wonder?" said Ron.

"Dunno," answered Harry. "Probably just miffed because she didn't win the bet." He pushed five silver Sickles over to Ron with resignation. "You won fair and square, mate."