Author's Note: Big thanks to lucidity for helping me with this project and to all of you reviewers! Now to answer the big question for those of you not so familiar with J.K. Rowling's creation: Who is Professor Paul Osborne?
Answer: Professor Paul Osborne is actually not part of Rowling's world. He's a made up character who I have inserted as the Professor of Muggle Studies. To find a likeness of him, check out Queer Eye for the Straight Guy's Carson.
Disclaimer: I own nothing created by J.K. Rowling
Chapter Two – First Day
"Welcome to Hogwarts, Professor Quiggle," said the stern Headmistress.
Holly blushed. "Hi," she said lamely. A few titters from the faculty were heard, and Holly wanted to sink into the floor and die. Way to make an entrance, Quiggle, she thought dourly.
"Well, go on then! Take a seat!" Headmistress McGonagall said impatiently.
Holly took the first available seat next to a blonde wizard in tangerine cashmere robes. Smiling briefly at him, she sat down in the old brown leather wingback chair.
"As I was saying," the Headmistress continued briskly, "as you all know, Headmaster Dumbledore is no longer with us." She paused sadly. A melancholy feeling swept the room and not a single smile was seen among the Hogwarts' faculty.
"And," McGonagall continued awkwardly, "that means that I have been appointed Headmistress," she didn't look the slightest bit proud of it, "and we've gotten a few additions to our faculty. Professor Holly Quiggle will be taking over as the Transfiguration Professor in my stead, and Professor Remus Lupin will be rejoining our faculty as the Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor," she briefly indicated to Holly and Professor Remus Lupin who sat on the opposite side of the room from Holly and the tangerine robed wizard. "I have called you all here a month earlier than scheduled to discuss a reorganization of the faculty and curriculum for this year now that Albus is gone as well as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, so you will have adequate time to prepare your lesson plans. Simone, if you would pass this around …"
The meeting lasted three hours and Holly had stopped listening after the first forty-five minutes, as her mind was elsewhere. It seemed to Holly that this school was more concerned that there would be an attack by former Death Eaters, than with a complete magical education. New emphasis on Defense Against the Dark Arts, defensive potions, as well as a modification to Muggle Studies – Holly really didn't see a point; Voldemort was gone, after all; but she had made the mistake of questioning the Headmistress.
"Headmistress McGonagall," she began hesitantly. "Er, what is the point to an emphasis on Defense Against the Dark Arts and defensive potions? Voldemort's gone."
A few in the room had gasped or winced at the mention of the vanquished Dark Lord.
McGonagall had speared her with a cold look, "Professor Quiggle, seeing as how England bore the brunt of the atrocities of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, I wouldn't expect you to understand the meaning behind this decision. Furthermore, you are the Transfiguration Professor, so I fail to see the reason why you are concerned."
Holly stupidly plunged ahead, forgetting that the Headmistress was her new boss, "Headmistress, he's gone. Voldemort's gone. So—"
"Professor Quiggle," McGonagall seethed. "End of discussion."
Holly was genuinely puzzled. Why was there an emphasis on DADA? It just didn't make sense. However, feeling the bite of McGonagall's glare, she ceased to question the cold Headmistress.
A thick silence fell over the room and Holly felt every eye upon her. She began to feel sick. It was her first day and already she was making an ass of herself.
It seemed like an eternity before Professors began standing up to leave. The blonde tangerine robed wizard next to Holly grinned at her. "Americans," he teased, a lock of hair falling into his eyes.
Holly raised her eyebrows in question.
"Don't worry, McGonagall's bark is worse than her bite," he said. "She's been more on edge since Dumbledore passed. And," he lowered his voice, "she's afraid that the Death Eaters will break out of Azkaban and hunt us all down, one by one."
Looking around, she spotted the Headmistress engaged in a furtive conversation with a tall, pale-skinned, greasy-haired wizard in black robes. Furrowing her brows she asked, "Paranoid?"
"Just a little," he replied. "I'm Paul Osbourne, by the way," the wizard before her said, sticking out his hand.
"Holly Quiggle," she said, taking it. "What do you teach?"
"Usually, I teach dance, cooking, and the arts," he said, sighing; "Now it's all about Muggle Wars and Muggle psychology." He groaned, glaring at the parchment in his hand with the new curriculum printed on it. "Apparently it's more important than Muggle lifestyles." He rolled his sky-blue eyes.
Holly laughed. "I teach Transfiguration."
Paul smiled sunnily, his blue eyes twinkling. "I know."
"Yeah…I forgot," she said awkwardly.
"The girls and I are going out to get a drink this evening, would you like to come?" he asked.
Holly smiled. "I'd like that. What time?"
It had been a harrowing afternoon for the American Professor. A very disagreeable Squib by the name of Argus Filch (caretaker of Hogwarts), had grudgingly led her to her tiny chambers on the second floor, talking all the while about the children who he would like to "hang by their thumbs from chains suspended in the darkest dungeon." Holly had shuddered when he had said that, and was grateful to be rid of him when they had arrived at the old wooden door of her chambers. Opening the door, Holly was greeted with an unwelcome sight. Her chambers were bare and empty (save for the plain furniture) and very cold, not unlike her new boss. There was one window that let in a stream of late afternoon sunlight, illuminating the thin, gray coverlet on the four-poster bed. Holly sighed, she would be grateful when her trunks arrived before supper that evening.
However, that was not to be. Holly had received an Owl from MPS in Diagon Alley, informing her that her trunks would be delayed by at least a week due to a potion explosion in shipping. She was outraged. There's the English for you, her mother's voice singsonged in her head. She could only hope that her things would arrive in their original condition.
To top off her first day most spectacularly, she had run into (literally) the very dark greasy haired wizard she had seen talking to the Headmistress earlier at the meeting. She had been walking down a corridor on the first floor with the parchment from MPS in front of her face, arguing with it.
"Who in their right mind ships explosive potions by freight? The fricking English that's wh--ooof!" she had run into something, rather someone.
"Do you mind?" came a sharp acidic voice from above her.
She looked up into the face of hook-nosed wizard with very menacing black eyes. "Sorry, I—"
He simply glared at her, "Watch where you're going!" he barked sharply.
Holly was taken aback, "I said I was sorry," she said indignantly.
He said nothing, and with a parting scowl, he went on his way, his black robes billowing behind him.
"Ass. I bet someone like you would ship explosives by freight," she muttered not quite under her breath. The black-robed wizard had heard her and turned around menacingly, however, before he could say anything, Paul rescued her, swooping down the corridor in the opposite direction, sporting a set of azure robes. "There you are! Where have you been?" he asked breathlessly.
"Stupid MPS," she muttered, handing him the parchment.
He took it and read it, "Come along," he said dismissively; "we've got to get to the Great Hall for dinner if we're going out for drinks later."
"Right," she said, allowing Paul to drag her away. She couldn't wait until that evening -- she needed a drink. The way things were going today, she wouldn't be surprised if she needed ten drinks before it was all over.
The evening fared far better than that day for Professor Holly Quiggle. After a quick dinner, Paul whisked Holly to the Entrance Hall of the castle, where two witches were waiting. After hugs of greeting, Paul asked, "Where were you two?"
A tall black-haired witch spoke in a rich voice, "We went back to my rooms to get ready and one of the house-elves brought us dinner."
Paul frowned. "You could have told me."
The black haired witch smirked. "You weren't around."
The other witch, a brunette in lemon yellow robes spoke up, "Paul, aren't you going to introduce us?"
Paul suddenly remembered Holly.
"Holly," he said, with a hint of exaggerated grandeur. "May I present the beautiful Simone Sinistra, Professor of Astronomy," he gestured to the black-haired witch. Without a moment to let Simone introduce herself properly, he continued, bowing deeply, "And the equally beautiful Victoria Vector, Professor of Arithmancy. Possibly the most brilliant witch at Hogwarts." He gestured to the brunette witch, who was frowning at Paul.
"Oh stop it, Osbourne," Victoria said playfully. "Pleasure to meet you, Holly," she said smiling.
"Yes, don't listen to that twit, Holly," Simone said, elbowing Paul in the ribs. "He's obviously full of crap."
"Thy words woundeth me!" cried Paul, melodramatically placing a hand over his eyes.
"Oh do shut up," Simone said. Smiling at Holly she said, "You're American. Have you ever tried a butterbeer?"
Holly smiled. "No, actually I haven't."
Victoria spoke up, "Then we're off to the Three Broomsticks!" She looked at Paul, who was still pretending to be wounded. "Oh you!" she said, grabbing his hand. "Let's go!"
Holly found herself at ease with Paul, Victoria, and Simone, who all seemed to be good friends. They were all around the same age as Holly, though Victoria was the oldest – she had just turned thirty the month before.
"Merlin, it was awful!" Victoria said, pulling a package of cigarettes from her robes.
"For something so awful, you seemed to enjoy yourself quite nicely," Paul commented lightly, snipping a cigarette from her pack.
"Idiot," she said, with a mock glare. "I had enough firewhisky to make a two hour lecture on flobberworms interesting."
Simone snorted in laughter. Holly giggled.
"So, Holly," Simone drawled, "how do you find Hogwarts?"
Holly hesitated. "I've only been here for less than a day, and I'm homesick already," she admitted reluctantly.
Paul inhaled on the cigarette dramatically, "I told you, McGonagall's bark is worse than her bite."
Holly reached for the cigarettes asking, "May I?"
Victoria nodded, lighting Holly's cigarette for her.
Taking a shaky inhale, Holly said, "It's not just that," and she began to tell them about the MPS fiasco and Argus Filch.
"Yuck," Paul said, "That man has not seen the inside of a bathtub since 1978."
The witches exploded into laughter.
Giggles subsiding, "Tell me," she said, taking another sip of her butterbeer (she found that it was actually very good). "Who is this wizard who swoops the corridors like –"
"Severus Snape," the three chorused.
"Who?"
"He's the Potions Master. Nasty git of a wizard if you ask me. Lives in the dungeon with the rest of the snakes," Victoria said, her lip curling a little.
"Snakes?" Holly inquired.
"Slytherin House," replied Simone.
"I wonder if he washes his hair," Paul said innocently. "The greasy git."
"Paul! That's not very nice!" Simone said, giving Paul a reproachful look, "Severus is our colleague." She snuck a look at Holly to gauge her reaction.
Holly saw this, "He's no friend of mine!" she said vehemently. She told them about running into Professor Snape earlier that evening.
"And he just left you with a glare? Unscathed? Count your lucky stars!" Simone said.
"Simone!" cried Paul, mocking her earlier comment. "He's our colleague."
"He's an ass is more like it," Holly blurted out.
The three burst into laughter.
"Simone, Victoria, I like this one," Paul said, grinning. "Can we keep her?"
The four returned very late to the castle, and found Argus Filch prowling the near empty castle. After receiving a little talk about how unsafe it was to wander the castle in the dead of night, they stumbled away, giggling.
"Oh damn it!" Holly said, smacking her forehead. "I forgot where my chambers are!"
Paul coming to her rescue said, "Don't worry, I remember! They're right next to mine!"
The four paused in the middle of two intersecting corridors. Simone clasped her arms around Holly. "It was so good to meet you! Do come along next week!"
"Next week?" Holly echoed.
Victoria gave her a quick hug before replying, "We do this every week. It saves us from the insanity of teaching."
They laughed, "Well good night, you guys!" Holly said, as Paul began leading her in the opposite direction from the two witches.
"Good night!"
Once they began walking down the opposite corridor, arm in arm, Holly said, "Thank you so much. I really appreciate you taking me along tonight."
Paul took her arm, "Oh hush you," he said teasingly. "I wasn't about to leave you alone to wander the castle with only the old fuddy-duddies to associate with."
Holly grinned. "Well thank you, sir."
"You're welcome m'lady. Now come along. We don't want to run into Filch again. Or worse," he paused, "Snape."
Paul had insisted in seeing Holly's chambers and once inside the dark set of rooms, he sighed.
"What?" Holly asked.
"This is horrible."
"Thanks," she rolled her emerald eyes. Drawing her wand from her pocket, she pointed it at the fireplace. "Incendio!"
"That's better."
"You're welcome."
Before it was all said and done, Holly and Paul had transfigured much of the bedroom to a level of comfortable suitable for the night. The hard mattress of the bed had been transfigured into a soft feather mattress; and the thin gray coverlet had been transfigured into a thick silver jacquard duvet, with matching throw pillows (Holly had thought it was a bit much). The plain mahogany furniture, Paul decided to transform into a carved suite of furniture.
"Now let's do the common room!" he said, excitedly.
"I'm tired."
"Tomorrow then?"
"We'll see," she grinned at him.
"Well good night then," he said embracing her.
"Good night, Paul. And thank you," she said earnestly.
"Posh," he said. "Don't worry about it."
Holly sighed as the door clicked shut behind him; at least the day wasn't a total waste.
A small girl with white-blonde hair twisted into two tiny pigtails concentrated hard on her task. Crayons were scattered all over the floor and the girl's tiny brow was furrowed in intense concentration. She selected her colors carefully and crafted her picture with equal caution. Finally finished, she grasped her prize carefully and bounded out of the room. She came to the end of the hallway and stood in the doorjamb of a room belonging to a teenage girl with blonde hair and piercing blue eyes.
"Tuna!" the little girl cried.
The teenager looked at the toddler with disdain.
"Pitcher! Tuna, Wiwy, me!" she exclaimed happily, thrusting her picture in the teen's face.
The older girl snatched the picture from the sticky hands of the little girl. Scrutinizing it critically, she declared, "I do not have blue hair!"
A soft "plop" resounded through the room and the young girl began to laugh and clap her hands in delight.
"What did you do?" the teen girl growled.
The small one just pointed at the teen and laughed happily. The teen grabbed a hand mirror from the dresser nearby.
"IT'S BLUE!" the teen shrieked. "I'M GOING TO KILL YOU! YOU LITTLE FREAK!"
The teen turned on the small girl, who had stopped laughing and started screaming in fright.
Suddenly a redheaded girl appeared at the doorway, "What's going on he---?" She stopped at the sight of the other girl's blue hair and burst out laughing.
"IT'S NOT FUNNY! I'll kill that little freak!"
The red-head stepped in between the young girl and her would be attacker, pointing a wand at the older girl's throat, "Touch her and I'll give you blue hair permanently!" she threatened, her green eyes flashing.
The blonde girl just gave an annoyed sniff and turned her back on them. The little girl felt her protector's arms around her, lifting her off of the ground and carrying her out of the room. Once in the hallway, the older girl set the small one on the floor.
"Are you ok?" she asked worriedly.
"Tuna's mean," the little girl said miserably. She held out her picture. "See, I draw Wiwy, Tuna, and me."
The red-haired girl took the picture and smiled, "I've got purple hair?" she asked gently.
The toddler nodded bashfully as a "plop" sounded quietly – she pointed to the older girl's hair and smiled.
"I like it, don't you?" The older girl asked the young one as she examined a lock of long purple hair.
The little girl launched herself into her arms and said in a muffled voice, "Love you Wiwy."
When she let go, she found "Wiwy's" vacant green eyes staring up at her in death. The little girl was older now and she was shaking. Looking around she found herself in the middle of a ruined house, holding on to the dead woman.
"No," she breathed, "No! Lily, no!" She grasped onto the woman harder, sobbing into her hair.
A hand clamped down on her shoulder and she turned to face a man with a horrid silver mask, insane red eyes jeering menacingly at her.
"NO!" she screamed, struggling. And far off, the sound of a baby's desperate cry resounded through her brain.
"NO!"
"NO!" Holly exclaimed in her sleep and launched herself upright in her bed. Her heart was racing and she was sweating. It had felt so real, the sadness, the fear – everything.
"Just a nightmare," she said breathlessly to herself, "A nightmare, nothing more."
Unconvinced at her own words, she shook herself mentally, "Note to self, butterbeer causes nightmares." At her own words she laughed and felt ridiculous for being scared of a nightmare.
Readjusting her covers she lay back on the bed and fell back to sleep straightaway. By morning, the only thing she remembered was a madwoman with blue hair.