Soo…in keeping with my wild work ethic…

boos from crowd

I've decided to let you in on one of my babies-my Harry Potter project. I know it's choppy. I know it's wildly crossover, though you wouldn't know it yet. But you're smart people- make connections, make inferences, connect things, think outside the standard HP box.

Meet the Harry Potter fic. Don't own it, never will, as well as all affiliated crossover parties. And I'm not British, though I am an anglophile. I love the English. So bear with, please, for your sake and mine.

"So, what d'you reckon the teachers gonna be like this year? Maybe he'll stick around for more than one year." Ron asked his two comrades as they trekked through the corridors after lunch.

"Like that's going to happen. Anyway, I heard the new professor's a woman." Hermione remarked.

"Let's hope to god she's not like Umbridge." Harry cited the previous fifth year's professor, a witch in the employment of the Ministry who had come to Hogwarts with the express goal of putting Albus Dumbledore out of the position of head master. Unfortunately for her, it had not worked, and Cornelius Fudge had been left with a mess at the Ministry to prove that Voldemort was indeed back.

"She didn't make any long winded speech at the feast, that's a good start." Ron pointed out.

"She wasn't even at the feast." Hermione made this sound as though the observer would have had to be an idiot not to notice.

"Good point." Ron sounded crestfallen at his slip-up. When they finally did get to the classroom, and into their seats, the teacher sitting at the desk at the front of the room both shocked and surprised them.

The female equivalent of Lucius Malfoy sat behind the polished and uncluttered desk, peering intently at her class over the slim sheaf of papers she was holding. Whenever someone sat down, her eyes flickered from the paper to the student's face, as if she was trying to read her students like a book. Her silver blonde hair hung loosely around her face, a gilt frame of fine thread.

However, when she at last put her papers down and stood up, they could see that her eyes, unlike Lucius and Draco's steely grays, were a vibrant, energetic blue. Harry was reminded of Mad Eye Moody's magical eye. But her eyes did not swivel jumpily in their sockets, as though they were afraid of something, but remained calmly surveying her class. Somewhere in a corridor, a magically magnified bell rang, signaling the start of class. The teacher looked at her class list again, then at the rows of serried desks in classroom twenty. The entire room was silent, staring at this woman who was going to be teaching them.

"Tut, tut, some of your classmates appear to be late." She sounded amused and at the same time, enraged. Ron leaned over to whisper to Harry.

"I'd be willing to bet a lot of money its Malfoy. First day's not even out yet and he's already breaking rules."

"Mmm." Harry wasn't surprised. Maybe this woman was related to Malfoy. But she didn't seem the type who would let him slip past with an infraction like that, lowly as it was. The door creaked, and all the faces turned from the teacher to the door. It opened, admitting Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. They seemed extraordinarily pleased with themselves. The woman got up from behind her desk, and silently strode across the room. The entire class sat transfixed, unwilling to make a sound, wondering what the teacher would do.

"Mr. Malfoy!" Her voice boomed across the silent room. Malfoy, who had his back turned, stiffened at the sound of her voice, his face filled with fear.

"Yes, Aunt Gabe?" His voice shook, as he turned around to face the woman.

"How dare you think you could get away with tardiness in my class! Your father may be my favorite brother, but you are by no means my favorite nephew. When in this class, you will address me with all proper respect as Professor Malfoy. Detention for your lack of deference and ability to watch a clock properly. And, if it happens again, your father shall be informed. Now, go to your seats." Her rigid, manicured finger pointed to the top row. Draco's face, which was already very panic stricken, turned a little more so. He managed a nod, and hastened up the steps to the topmost row of seats, sliding in amidst whispers from the Slytherins. The woman turned to the class.

"As Draco has been kind enough to inform you, I am indeed his aunt. He has also demonstrated for me one of the rules of this classroom, and that is if you are late, you will be duly punished. As well as doing these things, he has also shown you that I do not choose favorites. Even from among my own kin." She paused to let this sink in, and continued with her opening remarks.

"I am Gabrielin Malfoy, and I will be your Defense against the Dark Arts teacher. I do not like having to lecture, and I will make you read sections from the textbook during class only as punishment. However, there will be days when you will have to read, and I will have to stand here, talk, and have you take notes. It cannot be avoided. But for the most part, this should be a very fun class for those among you who do your work, and participate actively in class. Before we begin, I would you to look at the papers in front of you." With a snap of her fingers, papers appeared in front of everyone.

"Look over this list of spells and hexes. Mark the appropriate column if you have a) heard of the spell, b) Know what it does, or c) can perform the spell. Any questions?"

No hands were raised, so she waved them to their work. Harry directed his attentions to the sheet of paper. The spells listed on the front were easy enough, but on the back they started to get difficult. Harry remembered Hermione mentioning them all at one time or another. He looked at his deskmates. Ron's face was screwed up in concentration, his quill halfway in his mouth. Hermione had finished, and was reading the textbook. Harry set down his quill, and his paper whisked itself to a tidy stack on Prof. Malfoy's desk.

Ron took on last look at the paper, made a few more marks, them set his quill down. The parchment flew to the teacher's desk, settling on the pile with a slight crumple. Several more papers flew to the stack, and when Prof. Malfoy had gotten all of them back, she straightened the pile and flipped through them, seemly satisfied with what she saw.

"Very well then. Your only assignment for this class will be to begin reading your textbook, and I will quiz you tomorrow on the first chapter, so I would not skive off, if I were you. You may begin now, if you like, as you still have ten minutes left of class."

Harry picked up the large, brown book in front of him and started to read. There had been many defense against the dark arts textbooks he had not liked in the past, but the author, Morrigan Kier, made more sense than most textbook authors are bound to do, presenting the information in, well… an informative and interesting manner. He flipped to the back of the book, holding a finger in the spot where he had stopped reading, to read what the author's background was, not really expecting to find one. Normally not the thing one normally finds in a textbook, but it was there, nonetheless. Harry read it.

"Morrigan Kier is a part of one of the most foremost wizarding families of Scotland, and is actually a descendant of the Noble Wizarding house of Black. He enjoys writing books for student's usage, including "A history of Wizard Hate" one of the foremost collections on the behavior of Muggles, and " Wizarding Psychology; A study of Dark Wizards." In his spare time, Morrigan enjoys playing with his six year old daughter, Venus, and hunting on his estate, Loch Guinness, with his wife of thirteen years, Pyralis. He is a devoted member of the Dark Force Defense League, the International Confederation of Wizards, and The Black Raven Writing Club."

Harry thought about this for a moment. Morrigan must not be on the Black family tree at Grimmuald place, either, if he had written these books. And to be a member of the Dark force Defense League? He was certainly not on there. Sirus would have told him all about it, if Sirus…

He looked up to see the professor staring at him intently. It was not a cold, unnerving stare, like Snape's, but more of a pensive one, as if she were trying to decipher some ancient riddle. Harry caught her gaze, and then looked quickly away; his scar had hurt when he looked in her eyes. Harry looked at the bell, silently willing it to ring so he could get on to potions, or what ever it was he had next. All he wanted was to get out of Professor Malfoy's classroom.

--

Ron put it very adequately on the way to transfiguration. "That woman gives me the creeps. And a Malfoy to boot! She can only spell trouble."

Harry quite violently agreed.

As I said, bear with…all things come more to light with time. You'll see my motives for Morrigan eventually.

So. What do you think of Lucius' sister?