A/N: Sorry! Long time no update again...weeell I was in Greece being overenthusiastic about Classics and archaeology. Nuff said.
Rumour had never travelled faster at Hogwarts than it did now, as three figures slowly traversed the length of the Great Hall. It was already racing through the Hall powered by the sense of change and uncertainty in the light of recent events, but here was an unfamiliar face whose presence was, as of yet, unexplained. Following the experiences of last year, and indeed the preceding four as well, no-one could be entirely certain as to who, or indeed what, would be involved in the teaching of Defence Against the Dark Arts this year. With no one teacher staying, or rather surviving more than one year, and all having dramatically different ideas and methods on the teaching of an increasingly sensitive but vital subject, such uncertainty was inevitable.
The woman who walked ahead of Dumbledore, and this was surprising, at least appeared ordinary; brown hair, slightly built, conservative robes in muted charcoal; but it was her presence that was sending the flurries of consternation rippling throughout the ranks of students waiting to eat. Anyone coming to Hogwarts, either for the first time or returning, would exhibit some sort of reaction to its scale or atmosphere, but the face of this newcomer was utterly devoid of feeling despite its focus. The eyes of that face were obscured behind dark-tinted spectacles, adding to the unmoving appearance of the expression.
Within the sea of speculators was a knot of silence. Hermione stole a concerned glance at Ron who was trying to ascertain the origin of Harry's reaction of abject terror at the entrance of the three people nearing the top of the hall. Throughout the evening following his Occlumency lesson he had been particularly twitchy and disturbed in his thoughts, and though this was not unexpected it was pronounced. What was more, he was becoming increasingly uncommunicative. When asked simple questions such as, 'Did you enjoy Seeker practice?' he would merely stare wearily at them and walk off. Having been so vocal before, this bottling-up of emotions was a sudden and worrying change. Her heart sank, another detail to report, another piece of Harry's dignity stripped away without his even knowing, and another fraying thread in the fabric that held them all together.
There was a hush as the trio divided at the top of the hall, leaving the unknown woman standing before the teachers' table while Dumbledore and Snape took their places. It was now very clear that this was to be no ordinary introduction. She began, without any ceremony from Dumbledore, no clearing of throats,
"I am Professor Isla Kittson and I will be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts." There was a flash of gold as she removed her glasses, followed by a gasp from the first years sitting near the head of the Hall.
"Firstly," her voice rose above the swelling murmurs, "it is my duty to inform you that I am not entirely human."
The silence that followed this statement was palpable. Werewolves were one thing, but this woman's eyes were an impossible shade of gold that seemed to spark and swirl at every word. This woman was unlike any person any pupil could imagine.
She continued, "I should have died fifteen years ago when my heart was sacrificed to and replaced with the demon 'me tis'. However, due to reasons I cannot explain now I was tied to that demon as it was to me. We sustain eachother. Me Tis supports my body, which would otherwise die, and I provide it with a host, without which it could not survive for long in this world. This symbiosis is fuelled by magical energy, or if necessary, the life force of the living." She paused momentarily to let this sink into the minds of those who sat, stunned before her.
"Hogwarts is a large and powerful source of these energies, therefore you have no need to fear any vampirism on my part. I retain a source of dragons' blood for emergencies, as magical or physical exertion can drain our strength. If, however," she gazed balefully at them, "under exceptional circumstances we become exhausted, we will be forced to 'feed' so to speak, from the nearest suitable person. This will bear no threat to anyone in this room other than a temporary sense of faintness."
Hermione put a hand on Harry's shoulder as he trembled. What on earth was going on in his head? Granted this was probably the most terrifying teacher Hogwarts had seen for millennia, but something was very wrong here with Harry.
While Hermione had been attempting to work it all out, the not-quite-dead, not-quite-demon professor was beginning to do something extremely strange. Her eyes blazed and, extending her arms in front of her, shadows seemed to gather about her while wind that might have blown from the deepest bowels of the earth roared through the hall. The enchanted sky that adorned the ceiling was darkened prematurely as she appeared to tear the very fabric of the air and pull it apart, leaving a gaping rent. Through this poured forth a myriad of what could only be described, as someone later did, as 'streamers of living elements'. These ribbons of light, fire and ice streamed, whirling around her before returning, as suddenly as they had appeared, back into the portal. A motion like drawing curtains was made and the shadows receded.
"I will not be teaching demonic magic. I became as I am through the experiments of Dark Wizards. I was once a pupil here. It is my duty to teach you all that you must fight in order to survive. There is no reasoning with those intent on evil. Dark must be countered by Dark. Hexes and jinxes are not effective against those who will use unforgivable curses without a second thought. In order to protect yourselves and others you must learn that. Responsible use of curses in order to protect is vital in this approaching time of war. By the end of this year you will be able to defend yourselves appropriately. You will not be victims."
At this, Dumbledore rose, indicating that she should move to the seat at his right.
"Professor Kittson, you have the thanks of all of us. We shall all benefit from your uncompromising but sympathetic approach to defensive magic. We must ensure that we are able to protect ourselves and those close to us in this time of uncertainty. Hogwarts will remain a place of safety, I assure you all of this" He glanced down at the food that was now materialising on the tables. "On a brighter note, the house elves seem to have decided we have waited long enough for our dinner. Tuck in everybody!"
It was fair to say that no one really felt much like eating. Rather they were engrossed in watching their intriguing new professor in every small movement. The awkwardness of professor Snape in her presence had not gone unnoticed, but this was generally put down to his always wanting to have been a DADA teacher as well as his having been ousted from position of 'most scary professor'.
Hermione was desperate to finish as quickly as possible, however. Where had this woman come from? If she were an ex-pupil of Hogwarts, left for dead by deatheaters and now a symbiote with demonic powers, which she had no reason not to be following her demonstration, why had her appearance been so sudden? If she had the power and motives to blast Voldemort from this world why then had she spent so long outside the notice of the wizarding world? She also had a ton of homework from Snape for tomorrow, knowing also she would have to help Harry and Ron as well probably. There it was again! Harry, the very instant he caught sight of professor Kittson had begun to act as if he could sense something terrible about her. Then there was the behaviour after Occlumency, total refusal to communicate, seeming to be preoccupied with the depths of the world's evils. She was reluctant to take Snape's stiffness around the new professor as a sign of his involvement, though he had been a fanatical deatheater, she had no evidence to connect the two. In any case, as she was desperate to do some research, Hogwarts had an extensive collection of Daily Prophet back issues up to several decades old which could not fail to yield some information on Isla Kittson's background. The prophet of paranoia had always run big stories on suspected Deatheater activities in the past, there had to be some information somewhere. Abruptly her thought were rudely interrupted by Ron elbowing her in the ribs,
"Is Ginny ogling Malfoy or am I dreaming? 'Mione, please tell me I'm dreaming."
She looked; Ginny, while toying half-heartedly with her mashed potato, was resting her chin on her hand and staring openly with a small frown of contemplation in Draco's direction.
"Um. Maybe, maybe uh, she's thinking of a way to revenge herself on him." It was a bad lie, and Ron raised his eyebrows at her,
"For what? He hasn't done anything to her, has he?" There was a hint of the overprotective brother in this, however his fears were rapidly laid aside at Harry's sudden break for freedom. "Oy, Harry mate! Where you going?" As Ron scrambled after his retreating figure, Hermione sighed heavily to herself, giving Ginny one last glance before following on. She was joined in her pursuit by Luna, which although unexpected was welcome.
"I could try to talk to him, you know."
Hermione smiled ruefully, "I think that might be good, he seems to be starting to resent our attempts. He would probably appreciate a different approach from someone who he doesn't feel is constantly fussing like Ron and I have been."
Luna shrugged, keeping step with her, "Perhaps. Anyway, I'm going to owl my dad about this new teacher; see if there was anything in The Quibbler about stuff going on when she was taken. I'll bet you were about to do something similar, since you always do your research."
"Well, yes. I suppose so...what do you think about her? It's a bit odd, her turning up now, supper on the second day of term. Where was she before? We could have done with someone like her last year!" She glanced at Luna, who hummed in agreement through a mouthful of hair as she thoughtfully sucked the end of her plait.
"Mfff. I'll leave the detective work to you, but professor Snape has to know something about her, I just know it."
Hermione wondered if Luna's intuition was good enough to trust, and dropped her voice to the barest whisper in the deserted corridor, "Luna...what do you think about the unknown informant? Ginny...she thinks it might have been Draco..."
Luna's eyebrows shot up into her hairline and back down again into a deep frown,
"Draco Malfoy?" she hissed.
"Yeah...I'm not sure but, well, it's possible I guess. There have been those rumours of his being introduced into the Deatheater circle, haven't there?" Hermione shot a nervous look at the Hufflepuff girl, "And isn't the least likely suspect always the most likely culprit?"
Luna appeared to be thinking deeply on this paradox but said nothing, and it was then that Hermione realised they had lost sight of Harry and Ron.
"Damn!" She stopped and stared around, trying to see where they had gone.
"They went right, ages ago, down the passage that leads out into the grounds by the greenhouses."
"So why didn't you follow them?"
Luna shrugged, "Why do you have to follow him all the time? If he's starting to resent you fussing then let him have some space. If you chase him around he's only going to run away more."
The truth of this comment was so simple it agonised Hermione to acknowledge it. Of course she had known it all along. The fact was she couldn't bear to leave Harry alone, or Ron. She needed to know they were there, as they had always been. It was as if she could keep herself believing the trio was still intact, it would be, when the reality was that it was falling apart in her hands. Why was she even bothering? 'Because you care' the little voice in her head told her. She owed it to them to maintain the ties between them, otherwise who else would they have? Harry wouldn't have anyone...
"Luna...if you would talk to Harry..."
"He'll listen, he did last time. Just don't smother him, he needs to fight, not run away."
"But he fought last time, look where that got him! Look what happened." Hermione swallowed hard at the memory. She never wanted to feel that way again. "He got impetuous, he wouldn't listen or think."
"So, he's learned now. He's not a kid. Anyway, I've found a way to help him about his godfather dying. It helped me a lot, knowing my mum was there for me on the other side."
Hermione sighed, feeling a sudden and irrational urge to clap her hands over her ears and shut out the paranoia that was flooding into her mind as the theme of Sirius' death was mentioned. Instead she changed the subject.
"Look, what I said about Draco. It's probably not sensible to spread it around, if it gets out there might be hell to pay."
"I wouldn't say anything. But Ginny could be right, is it just me or have they been watching eachother a lot?"
She nodded, and glanced at her watch, "Ack! I'm sorry, but I've got a Snape essay to do for tomorrow and he wants four feet on the practical uses of poisons. I don't want to cross him now he's in a mood."
Luna waved her hand dismissively, "Go on, I'm so glad I dropped potions this year. I'll see you tomorrow, then."
As she wandered off, Hermione felt torn between following Luna's advice and doing as she had been told by professor MacGonagall the day before yesterday. It was impossible to know what to do. It was stupid to wish that life would return to normal, since what was normal anyway? She had been involved in the Harry versus Voldemort situation form the beginning, or at least since Voldemort's recovery had coincided with Harry being brought out of hiding and into the wizarding world. How could she possibly distance herself from her feelings? On one hand she wanted to make sure Harry was alright, on the other she just wanted to give him some peace and some dignity. Suddenly she caught a glimpse of a room through a door left slightly ajar. The Room of Requirements...
An idea stuck her and as she entered, she took a deep breath, grabbing one of the very handy and numerous pillows that had filled the room while the door shut softly behind her, and then she screamed. She screamed, she kicked pillows, yelled obscenities, threw pillows, howled with frustration and screamed again. It felt rather good. Sniffing slightly, she smoothed down her dishevelled hair, regained her composure and set off again for the Common Room.
I am rather jealous of Hermione – I wanna screaming room! Gods this chapter was hell...I apologise, its really crap but my brain doesn't work. I promise things will improve as soon as I gain some catharsis like poor Hermione.