Chapter Six

I survived the week! I got through the week without getting caught alone with him. I'm simply not ready to talk with him. It's not really me, you know. It's the uncertainty involved...

"AAAH! Darned, dratty fiddlesticks!"

Celeste kicked her way from under the covers of her elegant four poster bed. She couldn't believe it. She was going to be so very, very late for her first class. She cursed herself for staying up too late. She was going to be in so much trouble with those sixth year Gryffindors. How do they manage to be my first class everytime we have to meet? Celeste quickly dressed herself in a simple blouse and her most inconspicuous pair of jeans and prayed to whatever Gods may be that her students hadn't left her as she was going to be a good thirty minutes late.

Harry was on his way to Professor D'Angelique's classroom, which was adjoined to her office. He hadn't followed Hermione's advice right away. These were dangerous times, and while their new teacher talked the talk, so to speak, Harry was a little wary about trusting her completely. After all, hadn't Barty Crouch, Jr. fooled practically everyone into believing that he was Alastor Moody with the help of just a little Polyjuice Potion? Sure, it would take a skilled wizard to concoct that potion perfectly but judging by that manus spell she did, it was clear that Professor D' Angelique was skilled enough to handle the potion. And certainly, since that trick was used before, surely Professor Dumbledore would have made absolutely sure that Lord Voldemort wasn't sending in more infiltrators into Hogwarts. The Order simply couldn't afford to have more spies working among them.

So, all week, Harry observed Professor D'Angelique. The only thing he found really odd was her Muggle outfits. Otherwise, she was a fine teacher who explained things thoroughly and made sure everyone understood everything. She seemed to be paying special attention to Neville, presumably because he was never really too fantastic at Defense Against the Dark Arts and as usual, no matter how well the teacher explained certain lessons, Neville always seemed to fall behind, even just a little bit. Hermione remarked how nice it was of Professor D'Angelique to do that, especially since Neville was already having a hard time, even after just the three sessions they'd had that first week. However, this wasn't what really convinced Harry. What really caught his attention was how his Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was treating him. Unlike all his past Defense professors, with the exception, perhaps, of Professor Lupin, his third year teacher, Professor D'Angelique treated him very normally. As all of his professors who had dark plans in store for him paid extra attention to him, mostly to his discomfort, and as his current teacher didn't, Harry finally decided to take his chances at the end of that first week of school, and that he wouldn't let her choice of garb bother him. He definitely had a lot to lose by mistakenly trusting her, but he had too good a feeling about her that he felt confident about taking the plunge.

Harry finally found himself outside the classroom door, knowing that there was only going to be one way to find out whether he was right or wrong.

Celeste dashed from her dormitory, which thankfully, was right beside her office which even more thankfully, was adjacent to her classroom. She madly ran through the three rooms, the whole time scoffing some strawberry doughnuts some house-elf had left on her desk. This was, no doubt, Minerva's doing, but she didn't have the time to think about that. She chomped as fast as she could and burst into her classroom. Much to her dismay, there was only one student in her room. Looking up at her bewilderedly was Harry Potter.

"Darn!" Celeste exclaimed. "Golly Harry, do apologize to your classmates for me. I didn't mean to wake up late. My alarm clock didn't go off, I forgot to set it. Can't believe I forgot..." She continued to mumble reprimands to herself.

Harry looked at his very confused looking teacher intently, wondering until it hit him. "Professor, I don't know what you're talking about. It's Saturday."

That stopped Celeste. Geez, what the heck is wrong with me? This is super humiliating! Celeste, get a grip! She closed her eyes, composed herself quickly and grinned sheepishly at Harry. "Oops. My mistake."

Harry smiled back, almost assuringly and laughed a bit. "That's okay, Professor. I guess that happens to everyone once in a while."

Celeste broadened her grin. "Yep, sure does. Well, allow me to make it up to you. Have you eaten breakfast?"

"Yes, I have."

"Is it too late for me to offer you some strawberry doughnuts? No? Good, 'cause here they come. Accio doughnuts!" The plate of doughnuts promptly obeyed her call and came floating down into the classroom. Celeste then heated them with the same charm she used for the blueberry muffins. "Fovere!"

So, if today is Saturday, what is Jamesie Junior doing here? Celeste watched as Harry helped himself to a warm doughnut. As she picked one up for herself, she looked over at her student and casually asked, "So, what brings you to this neck of the woods? It's Saturday, you should be enjoying your first weekend, not hanging out with your teachers."

It was Harry's turn to give his professor a good look-over. She was as casual as she always was during class, which made it hard for most students to believe that she was serious. Though she was probably just about Remus Lupin's age, she, just like Professor Lupin, looked a little older than she probably was. However, that only became obvious when one looked into her deep blue eyes, something which stood out because of her other darker features: her raven black hair, her small nose and ears and her medium-dark complexion. Her sapphire-like orbs looked at him as though she were scrutinizing him (which she probably was) but had a sad, tired and lost look about them that betrayed some past pains.

"Hey, Harry," Celeste said, breaking into Harry's thoughts, "I don't mean to break into your thoughts but you're staring. Besides, you haven't answered my question."

"Oh, right. Sorry Professor. Er…I came down here because I…" What did Hermione say I was supposed to ask? "…I…need help with the homework you gave."

Celeste smiled, finding it amusing that Harry was just as charming as his father was whenever James would try to come up with an alibi. Being a Legilimens, she knew an alibi when she saw one, even if the alibi was honest enough. She played along, and asked, "Well, what kind of help did you have in mind?"

Harry looked up at Celeste. I don't know how but she can see right through me. "Well, I was having some problems writing my report--"

"--because you know what's lying ahead of you and you don't like what you see? Or," said Celeste slyly, "you're not sure whether you should trust your new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?"

Harry just stared. Celeste smiled reassuringly and said, "That's perfectly all right, Harry. I understand. You're wise to stay alert. After all, I could be working for old Tom Riddle. But I'm not,"she quickly added as Harry's expression grew more worried. "All things considered, there's no way I could be working for him, seeing as I spent most of my career trying to throw that guy back to where he belongs." There Harry, grab the opening so I can tell you more...

Harry didn't see this development coming. He was under the impression that he was bound to meet someone with potentially evil intentions and wasn't prepared to find someone as open and sincere as Professor D'Angelique. After all Harry went through in his fifth year, all the sufferings, the betrayals and the loss of his godfather, he felt ready to pour his heart out. Sure, he had Ron and Hermione to share his feelings with, but somehow, he'd always felt that talking to two wizards who were the same age as he but had more normal experiences was never really enough. He knew what he needed; he'd already come to that conclusion before. He needed a parent figure. Before his fifth year, he already had that in the person of Sirius Black. Now, he was back to square one. With that additional problem in his bag of burdens, he couldn't help but feel like telling all to Professor D'Angelique.

Celeste could sense the struggle within the boy, even without the help of her Legilimency. She glanced at the clock in the classroom before speaking up again "Harry, Professor McGonagall told me to go shopping for robes this weekend. She said that I simply can't go on teaching in my Muggle get-ups. Would you like to join me? I'm going down to Hogsmeade."

Harry considered. Here was something strange. A teacher taking him out of the school, not even on a Hogsmeade weekend! The last few defenses inside of him welled up again. And Celeste sensed that.

"If you want, we can troop over to Professor McGonagall and ask permission, or from Albus...er...Professor Dumbledore."

Harry finally smiled his first genuine smile of the day.