Disclaimer: Own it? What nightmare are you living in?

Rating: PG-13

!!!Author's Note!!!: I'm going to be making up a first name for one of the professors in here, but if that character really has a different name then please tell me what it is. Thanks!

!!!Author's Other Note!!!: Sooooooooooo (etc) sorry about how long it took me to update. I'm really, REALLY bad about that sort of thing, and I know that it probably pissed a few people off. So, again, I apologize, but I'm still here.

Feedback: If I could, I'd make a virus that would force your computer to stay at my story until you gave me feedback of some kind, but I'm not that mean a person and I don't want to end up in jail, so I'll just do it the old-fashioned way and beg.

***********************************ShadowElfBard***********************************

Three Days Later

8:49 pm

Undeterminable Location

(Willow)

In the twisted words of Paul Revere, "The students are coming, the students are coming!"

   Yes, they'll be arriving tomorrow. And I'll have to attempt to try and help teach them. Bleh. Teaching a subject that I know I shouldn't even be near, and only as an assistant. I still don't even know whom I'll be assisting, because when I met the professors, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher wasn't there. I'm still not sure whether or not that was a good thing…

   Speaking of teachers, though, I have been able to get to know them a bit better. Well, okay, not all of them. I haven't seen Severe Snake (Severus Snape) since I've come, or Filch-- not that I'm complaining. But I did get to spend some more time with the other professors, and Madame Sprout and I have become fairly good friends. She was showing me this plant yesterday that, as a defensive mechanism, can actually copy the shape of the thing closest to it. I watched as it turned into a stone, a teapot, and me! A very tiny me with roots, but me nonetheless.

   "Miss Rosenberg! A moment, please!"

   I turn around, and see Professor Flitwick running down the hallway. I patiently wait, and he stops in front of me, huffing and puffing like he's just run a marathon. I guess that when you perform magick all the time, you forget to work out a little.

    "I…Dumbledore asked me to…. he wants…" the Charms professor takes in a large gulp of air. "The Headmaster wishes to see you."

   "Oh. Okay, I guess. Where is his office, again?"

   Flitwick turns and points down the hallway with a shaky finger. "That way…go down until…you see…the gargoyle and then…then say the password…"

   I raise an eyebrow. "What's the password?"

   He breathes deeply, pauses, and then says, "Lemon Drop."

   "Lemon Drop?"

   "Lemon Drop," he reiterates with a nod.

    I grin in amusement. "Okay. Thanks, Professor."

   "Please," he says smoothly, finally able to breathe normally again, "we are both professors here now. You can call me Winthrop."

   Giving him a smile, I start off down the corridor before turning around to yell back, "Thanks again!"

   Winthrop takes off his hat and bows. "Think nothing of it."

                                                         *~*~*~*~*~*~*

   Boy, this guy sure loves candy, I think, climbing the stairs to Dumbledore's chambers. I mean, really. Lemon Drop? What kind of a password is that, anyways? It sounds like something that Xander would have come up with.

   I reach the door to the office and knock tentatively. Receiving no answer, I knock again, and then hear a faintly muffled, "come in!"

   With slight amazement I take in the décor of the Headmaster's room and office, feeling very much like a kid in a candy store. There are shelves lined with books, strange and enchanted knick-knacks and statues, portraits of people who I can only assume are his ancestors, and one of the most astonishing things of all, a bird.

   I approach the animal slowly with my eyes full wonder and curiosity, and the magnificent creature tilts its head and gives a soft 'Coo?' of question. Its feathers are a beautifully shimmering red, and its eyes are bright and intelligent. I raise my hand shakily, wanting for some weird and wonderful reason to pet it, and the bird lowers its head and closes its eyes, giving me permission to do so. Once my fingers touch the soft, downy feathers, my mouth breaks out in a wide and almost goofy grin. I stroke its head slowly and gently, before hearing a low, "ahem", from my left.

   I smile apologetically and draw my hand away. "I'm sorry, Headmaster. Was I not supposed to…?"

   "Oh no!" he says quickly, his face open and kind. "By all means, please pet him. I'm afraid Fawkes does not get the true attention that he deserves from me, for my duties here at Hogwarts often keep me occupied."

   I smile in thanks and continue to stroke Fawkes, as he's apparently called, but with Dumbledore here I can't hold back my curiosity for much longer. I give the bird a sad look, and pull my arm away to go and sit in front of the Headmaster.

   "So… why'd you want to talk to me?"

   "Ah, yes," he says, with a nod, pulling away from a book he'd been skimming through. He grabs a bowl off of his desk. "To business, then. Candied leaf?"

   "Uh, no… thanks," I say a bit slowly, watching as he take hold of leaf-shaped candy pieces and chews on them thoughtfully. He swallows.

   "To be blatant, Miss Rosenberg, I was wondering how prepared you are for the arrival of the students tomorrow."

   "I'm as prepared as I'm going to be, I suppose. I've been doing some reading on the subject, I've taken down as many notes as I could, and I've talked with a few of the other professors about it." I shrug. "The only thing that I haven't done is discussed the lesson plan with the teacher who'll be heading the class."

   He furrows his brow. "Why haven't you?"

   "Well, I still don't know who the person is," I point out.

   I watch as the realization dawns on him. "That's true, isn't it? I'd forgotten… Old age does that to a person, unfortunately."

   "So…" I shift uncomfortably. "Who will I be assisting?"

   He seems to brood on something for a moment, and then gives an impish smile. "You know, I've always loved surprises. Do you, Miss Rosenberg?"

   "Yeah, I guess."

   "When I was younger-- much younger-- my parents were quite the sneaky pair. I never knew what I was to receive for my birthday. I remember one year, I'd been certain that they were going to get me a new broom." He chuckles. "I received a bag of enchanted marbles." Then he frowns. "Sadly, I lost them years ago…"

   I blink, completely dumbfounded. Since when were we talking about marbles?

   "Mr. Dumbledore, please, what does this have to do with the professor I'll be assisting?"

   My question receives a warm smile, and he answers quite simply, "I'm going to keep the professor's identity a secret. In fact, come to think of it, I haven't even told the person who is going to be the professor. Hmm."

   I gape in shock. "B-But what about a lesson plan? And, and a schedule? How will we know what to do? We'll probably mess up and then we'll both get laughed at, and the students will hate us, and everything will fall apart, and I'll be deported and sent to Azkaban, and my friends will never see me again, and I'll get old behind bars, and the food will be crappy, and…"

  The headmaster watches in astonishment as I go from cool and collected to having a panic attack in less than five seconds flat.

   "Miss Rosenberg. Miss Rosenberg. Miss Rosenberg!"

   " … Come to my funeral, and-- huh?" I break off in my fear-induced monologue and refocus my eyes. "Oh. I did it again, didn't I?"

   He smiles reassuringly at me (though this time it seems slightly forced) and shakes his head. "Miss Rosenberg, I understand that you are frightened about what is to happen…"

   No I'm not! I think hotly. I'm frightened because an old man won't tell me anything about what I'm going to do tomorrow, because apparently he likes surprises.

   "…But it will be alright. You are a very capable woman, and I have the utmost faith in your abilities."

   "All right," I say with a sigh, not reassured in the slightest but wanting to humor him.

   He smiles again, and then we both stand and shake hands, saying our goodbyes. I turn and walk to the door, only to pause as something catches my eye. It's an old black hat that's hunched over on a shelf.

   Suddenly, that hat straightens. "Hello there."

   I give a little squeak of terror and jump back. "What are you?!"

   Behind me, Dumbledore laughs softly. "Miss Rosenberg, allow me to introduce you to our Sorting Hat."

   The hat bows. "Hello."

   My eyes wide, I take a tentative step closer, and squint to study it.

   "Wow," I murmur.

   The hat gives a little chuckle. "I always was the 'top hat' with the ladies."

   Dumbledore sends the hat a playfully scolding look at the bad joke, but I just can't help but giggle.

   Abruptly, there's the high-pitched sound of a whistle, and then a burst of fire appears in the fireplace. The flames, surprisingly enough, take the shape of McGonagall's head.

    "Headmaster," she says calmly, "we seem to be having a bit of trouble in the Great Hall with the decorations. They aren't cooperating and one of the streamers has attempted to strangle professor Flitwick. We would certainly appreciate it if you could come and give us a hand or two."

   Dumbledore nods his head. "I'll be there in a moment, Minerva."

   The face in the fire smiles in acknowledgment, and then disappears.

   The Headmaster faces me. "It seems that I have something to take care of in the Great Hall. Would you mind waiting here until I return?"

   "Sure, no problem," I say in fake cheer. "Take your time."

   After he's left, I sigh and plop down into a comfy chair next to one of the bookcases. The hat looks at me for a moment, and then frowns.

   "I don't remember Sorting you before."

   "That's 'cause you didn't," I say wearily, my eyes closed.

   "Well I should do it now then, shouldn't I? If you'd like, of course."

   My head snaps up to look at him in surprise. "You could Sort me? Into one of the houses? Right now?"

   "Of course," the hat answers a bit sharply, bristling, insulted.

   "Oh." I blink, pondering the decision. "Would it hurt?"

   He chuckles in amusement at my concern. "No, no, there's nothing to worry about at all. Well then? Want to find out?"

   I bite my lip, and then give a nod. "Okay. What do I have to do?"

   "Just place me atop your head. That's where all the information is, after all."

   And so, following the hat's orders, I pick him up and then slowly set him down on my head, feeling foolish as I wait for something to happen.

  " My, my, what do we have here?"

   I give a start in surprise at the voice in my head, but then calm down when I realize that it's the hat. And the most interesting feeling is going through me…. like, like someone is sifting through files, only the files are my thoughts and memories. It is a tingly, light feeling, but it's also violating and encroaching.

   You…  you can hear me?

   "Loud and clear," the hat replies. "Hmm…. Such memories… you've got quite a past here, girl… No, wait, my mistake…. You aren't a girl anymore, are you? No, no, not anymore…"

   I can almost hear his thoughts as he looks through my mind, privy to all of my secrets and successes, my fears and dreams. My sorrows.

   "Now then, where to put you? You've a ready mind of course, clever and sharp… Ravenclaw would most assuredly suit you well, yes… But one can't overlook that determination, that drive… You could certainly be a Slytherin, yes… the potential is there… And of course there's that courage inside, beating within your heart. There's that need to do what is right and be brave in times of dire need… Gryffendor would fit on you like a warm glove, there's no doubt about that… To be frank, you could fit just about anywhere… but what to choose, what to choose…"

   I bite my lip again, and my knee bounces with nervousness and anticipation. I know that I'm not going to be actually entering any of these houses, and that this is merely to satisfy my admirable but dangerous curiosity, but still… This feels so big, so large, and so so necessary.

   Then, interrupting my thoughts, the hat begins to talk to me again. "The decision has been tough, but I think you belong in HUFFLEPUFF!"

   I wince. "Do you have to yell?"

   "Sorry," the hat apologizes. "Force of habit."

   I take off the hat carefully, and set him back on the shelf, once again chewing on my poor lip. I'm about to ask him a question, when Dumbledore re-enters the room.

   "Hello again, headmaster," I greet him.

   He inclines his head. "Miss Rosenberg. I apologize for that, but everything has been squared away. Now, before I take my leave, was there anything else you wanted to ask me?"

   "Actually, yes. What house were you Sorted into when you were younger?"

   Dumbledore blinks in surprise. "You know, no one has ever asked me that before… But, to answer your question, it was Gryffendor."

   "Oh."

   He squints at me. "Why? Did you…" he glances up at the hat, and, after noticing that it's now on a different shelf (oops!), he smiles. "Our Sorting Hat was good enough to Sort you while I was gone, I presume."

   I grow a bit red. "Yeah."

   The corners of his mouth widen into an even larger grin. "Well then, don't keep my guessing. Where did our esteemed Sorter place you?"

   "Hufflepuff."

   "Really?" He tilts his head and furrows his brow, pursing his lips. "Strange."

   My eyes widen in alarm. "What? What's strange? Is that a bad thing? What do these houses stand for, anyways?"

   "Each one," Dumbledore begins softly, choosing to answer my last question, "stands for certain… attributes, I suppose you could call them. Characteristics. Gryffendor is bravery, Ravenclaw is intelligence, and Slytherin is determination."

   "What's Hufflepuff?" I ask warily.

   "Loyalty," he answers simply. "Acceptance. Justice."

   And even after I bid him farewell and go back to my room, that last word had rings through my mind.

   Justice.

                                                              *~*~*~*~*~*~*

The Start of the Semester

6:21 pm

The Great Hall

(Willow)

I let out a long and heavy breath, gazing around nervously. The students are starting to file in, and I'm in front of all of them, seated with all of the professors, being treated like a professor… Wow. I can officially say that this is one of the most nerve-racking experiences of my life.

   Dumbledore seems so happy right now, his face alight as he watches the students coming in, some younger, some older, some sweating and some laughing. It's as though every pupil that shuffles in is an extra piece of chocolate on a golden plate. I don't think I've ever seen him so thrilled.

   Snape is unconcerned and scowling, as usual, and most of the other professors (There is a new one among them, a middle aged witch who might possibly be the professor that I'll be assisting) also seem to be taking this rather indifferently. They're not much different than the teachers in America, really. Another year, another set of students, another set of troubles.

   The said students all seem to have taken their seats, and professor McGonagall has quieted them down and informed them that the Sorting will soon begin.

   The hat (placed on a stool in the front) then opens its mouth and begins to sing, taking the first years (and myself) by surprise. He sings of the four great Houses, and, comically, of himself, and then wishes them all good luck and tells them to "… have no fear, but think real loud so I can hear". He quiets and applause overtakes the Great Hall, before professor McGonagall once again takes charge and holds up a long scroll.

   "Abenkoff, Harold."

   And so the Sorting begins.

   The first years all jam the hat on their heads, some with eagerness and others with a tentativeness that I can easily relate to. One of the things that I do notice, however, is that not a single Slytherin twitches when putting on the hat. They all sit down with an almost haughty air, and get back up with a smirk. Show-offs.

   Finally, the last person, a Zebadia, Joseph (poor guy) goes up and after the hat proclaims him a "RAVENCLAW!" the Sorting is over. The houses all greet their new members with good cheer (except for the Slytherins, who merely nod in acknowledgement) and then Dumbledore comes stands and the hall goes silent with an anticipatory hush.

   "Good evening students, new and old, and welcome to another fine year at Hogwarts," he pauses briefly and waits until the applause dissipates before starting again. "Before you gorge yourselves on the marvelous feast that is about to begin, I have a few words for you all, of the more serious nature."

   He winks at his audience. "That's two years in a row now, I do believe that this is a new record."

   The older members of the crowd, who know what he's talking about, give small chuckles.

   "But, as I was saying, I have some words. The first, I'm sorry to say, is a banning on student visits to Hogsmeade this year."

   There is quite a reaction at this, and quite a few students stand up angrily and with shock, while others cry out in dismay and protest. Once again, I have absolutely NO clue whatsoever as to what's going on.

   Dumbledore holds up his hands and attempts to calm them. "I know, I know, and I truly am sorry. This simply is one of the rare occurrences where it is out of my control. The ministry is merely attempting to keep you safe."

   On my left, Snape rolls his eyes.

   "It is their belief that you would be better protected on school grounds, and in that regard I have to admit that I do agree with them."

   The students sit back down, albeit reluctantly, and grumble quietly with folded arms.

   The Headmaster looks over them all, and, satisfied that he can continue, does so.

   "Now, as to my second choice of words, I have good news for all of you. I am pleased to announce that Miss Willow Rosenberg, a very capable witch from America, has come to serve as an aide in the Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Miss Rosenberg, if you would stand up please?"

   I stand, fighting down a blush, and nod my head in greeting towards the students. It is hard to judge their reaction, but for the most part they seem merely surprised and curious. Whether it is at the fact that I'm young and American, or simply new, I am unable to tell.  I receive a dappled array of applause (with a particularly loud burst of enthusiasm from the Weasley's and Harry) and return to my seat.

   "Thank you, Miss Rosenberg. And now, in addition, we have another new professor this year, Professor Glinda."

   The middle-aged witch I spotted from before stands up eagerly and waves. She receives the same unenthusiastic applause from the grumbling students, and then sits down.

   Dumbledore smiles. "Professor Glinda will be heading Potions this year."

   The room goes silent with a stillness that not even the dead could compare to.

   The Headmaster's smile widens, and a mischievous glint shines in his eyes. "And so we come to our last announcement, which I'm sure many of you have already guessed. This year, it is my immense pleasure to announce that the Defense Against the Dark Arts class will be headed by none other than our own Professor Severus Snape."

   At first, Snape looks as though he's been told that Christmas has come early and that he'll be receiving eleven months off-- with pay. Then he seems to remember that I am to be assisting the DADA professor, and he looks over at me in horror.

   As Spike would put it, "Bloody Hell."

Review Returns:

eth: *chuckle* Yeah, I know… sorry. Hope this cheers you up a bit!

Davina: I'm glad you enjoy it, and thanks for the review!

Destiny's Dragon (Amber of Heart): I like the new name. It's got a nice rhythm to it. Anywho, thanks for the review!

Darklight: Don't get her mixed up in the Wizarding War? Hrm… Well, I can try, but there are no guarantees I'm afraid. Thanks for the review, I'm glad you like it!

spearsister: Well, like I've mentioned before, the relationship isn't going to be a big part of the story, but it WILL be with a cool guy. At least, I think he's cool. You might not think so, however, but thousands of fan girls say otherwise.

In any case, I truly am so sorry to all of you for taking so long to update, and if none of you review because you're mad at me, I'll understand. *gives audience sad puppy dog look* Ah, well. I'll just have to hope….

            ------Talk to you soon! (I'll really try this time, I promise.)