The week was spent in anticipation of the upcoming match, and I was on an almost constant sugar high, joining in the excitement. I showed little illusionary versions of some of history's greatest moments in sports, explaining briefly how things like that lifted spirits during dark times. I decided on a whim to put one of my pet projects into action.

"Mister Weasley, would you mind staying for a second?"

Percy Weasley was many things. Kind probably wasn't one of them. But he had potential.

He grabbed his things, walking over to my desk, where I actually sat at my chair for once,

"Is there something wrong, Professor?"

I shrugged,

"It really depends on how you want to look at it. I understand that you wish to pursue a career in government?"

He nodded, looking slightly suspicious, the instinct probably ingrained in him from years of living with the twins. Good. Caution was a useful trait to have.

"Well, I have a dilemma. You see, the British Ministry of Magic has a considerable hold on my life at the moment, but I find I'm having trouble figuring out certain aspects of it. I was hoping you would be willing to help me with this. There's some research I was hoping to get done about a certain...delicate issue, and need someone trustworthy and knowledgable. Would you be willing to help me with this research project of mine? I understand that while this project would be a good way to exercise your skills it is your NEWT year. Therefore, in exchange I would be willing to help with any of your other classes."

He had drawn himself up proudly at the 'trustworthy and knowledgable' part, and wasn't phased at the mention of NEWTs.

"Of course I'm willing to help, Professor."

We scheduled out a time for that evening for him to report to my classroom, and he left for his next class, clutching the excuse note I had given him.

That evening when he entered my classroom I was sitting on the desk, waiting for him.

"Have a seat, Mister Weasley. Did you ever wonder why I was teacher here, rather than in America?"

He shifted guiltily and I waved a hand,

"Doesn't matter. What matters, is how I ended up in Britain. Please don't discuss what I tell you here with other students."

I was given a swift promise, and I continued.

"I'm told I was involved with an Apparition accident. The main theory is that I tried to apparate away from danger without my wand in hand, and I missed my mark. I landed in Muggle London, seriously confused, and concussed. Agents from the ministry aggravated my injury, despite all their rules and regulations, ignoring their usual procedures that would prevent further harm from coming to me."

His expression said he could tell where this was going, and he was dreading it.

"They apparated you somewhere, didn't they?"

I nodded, and he continued.

"And now you can't remember why you were so desperate to run away?"

I gave him a half smile, putting my elbow on my knee, and my chin in my hand.

"Mister Weasley, I'm Muggle raised. I woke up in Saint Mungos, with no memory of magic at all."

His horrified expression was that of a Pureblood who couldn't imagine life without magic.

"But the Minister helped you, didn't he? He got you this position at Hogwarts?"

I shook my head.

"Minister Fudge was present when a Healer questioned me to find out how much I could remember of myself. His very first suggestion was to obliviate me further, and to 'dump me with the muggles'."

Percy's world was being shaken to the core, but I continued.

"His legal counsel advised against it, so he contacted Hogwarts and left me to Professor McGonagall. His solution was to simply retrain my control with magic. I wasn't allowed to contact the American Ministry. The only reason I have a job at all is because I'm qualified to teach this subject and the Headmaster wished to add it to the curriculum once more. It was a convenience hire, and I got lucky."

He was staring into space now, and I had to wonder if he would chose Fudge's side, the man he had never met, or the teacher he'd known for a few months now. I sighed,

"Mister Weasley, I understand if you don't want to help me with this project. I could always-"

"No."

It was unusual for him to interrupt, so I raised an eyebrow and let him continue.

He looked determined, and I could see why he was Gryffindor, rather than Slytherin for that ambition of his.

"I'll help. If the Ministry can cover a mess-up this severe then what else have they hidden?"

I smirked, swishing my wand to summon the law books from my office.

"Let's begin, then, shall we?"
We set a schedule that evening, of when we would meet and for how long. Three days a week, for varying hours each day. I left the door to the classroom wide open, and several students would wander in occasionally for help. I would give them quick explanations, and send them on their way. It didn't take long for word to spread about our research project, and I heard the twins complaining to their brother at breakfast the next day about how he had corrupted me to his pompous ways.

I had snorted tea through my nose, getting a few giggles from Remus and a put-upon sigh from Snape. That evening I informed the Doctor of what I was doing, and my vague endgame. He had simply raised an eyebrow at me.

"So you've decided to mess with time?"

I shrugged and he rolled his eyes.

"Good luck then. You're going to need it."

Telling Sirius was a bit more fun.

"I've set some of my plans in motion for that coup d'etat."

He choked on his chicken and I cackled.

"I've surprised a dog! Oh, happy day. This is a new one for me. Well, sort of. There was that time in Barcelona...I think. Anyway, I have that to do now, and I have more people to talk to outside of class, other than you."

I stuck my tongue out at him for a second before going somber again.

"I've done a bit more 'mass murderer research'. The article Fudge supposedly showed to him that supposedly gave him reason to escape had no mention of Harry Potter. And those reports of muttering "He's at Hogwarts" in his sleep, all of a sudden, well it's bullshit. Sirius Black knew how old Harry Potter was, he'd know he was at school. No, he was talking about someone in that article. The article was about the Weasleys going to Egypt. The only Weasleys 'at Hogwarts' are Percy, my chosen for the Minister's position, you'll be pleased to know, the twins, and Ronald. All are in Gryffindor, so they could feasibly be the one under attack, but why the hell would someone want to kill any of them? I understand the twins make a few enemies with those pranks of theirs, but they hardly sent a Hogwarts toilet seat to Azkaban. And it wouldn't be worth death, if they had. If I was in prison I would laugh my ass off to get a toilet seat in the mail. Randomness is good for the soul. Ron's rat is probably here, but it's a rat."

I huffed,

"So I've gone exactly nowhere. At least I have the match to look forward to."

The dog gave me a doggy grin, and I rolled my eyes.

I wonder what you're thinking. What do you think of my search for the truth? Or do you just stick around my insanity because I'm a steady source of food?

I scratched his ears one last time before standing.

"I'd better go. I've never met a dementor before, and I'd like it to stay that way. See you tomorrow, canine."

The day before the match Remus was 'ill', and students stormed around after Defense Against the Dark Arts. I winced in sympathy, being more gentle than usual with those who'd had the misfortune of having Snape teach the class. My detention approached quicker than I was expecting. Draco entered the room, bag in hand, scowl in place. I rolled my eyes, motioning to a desk.

"Have a seat, Mister Malfoy, and turn in the assignment from your last detention."

I read through it swiftly, setting it down the moment I'd finished, turning to the board, writing the individual traits down and turning back to him.

"You just meshed together the mantras from all of the divisions of the American Military. Congratulations. There are muggles out in force that fit your description of strength."

He spluttered,

"Muggle soldiers can't do magic!"

I raised an eyebrow, leaning against the board.

"You didn't say 'magic', you said 'those who are adept at their art'. Well guess what, they tend to be really good at what they do. I say that as someone who was taught to loathe soldiers in any and every form."

He was glaring at his desk now.

"Draco."

He looked up at me, surprised.

"These views you hold, where did you hear them?"

"...my father."

"Okay, so they're what your father thinks. Someone once said that we are only the sum of the influence of the people around us. I disagree. I believe that each of us has purpose, will, and spirit. Each of us come with a destiny, one that we can change, if we try hard enough. You are not your father. By whipping out the name of your father each time you need to win an argument, you overuse that card. If you cling to your father and his connections, then you shall never make your own. You shall forever be known as your fathers son, rather than your own person. Is that what you wish? To just be a shadow of what you're capable of, forever hidden behind the accomplishments of your father?"

He shook his head, face slightly confused and a little pained.

"Then form your own opinions. Observe what's going on around you. You have been looking, but you haven't been seeing."

I let him chew on that for a second.

"What do you want to do for a living?"

He raised an eyebrow expression going haughty. I cut him off before he could continue.

"Living off your families money counts as hiding in your father's' shadow, you know."

His mouth snapped shut and I continued.

"And as for taking up a similar position in the Ministry that he arranges for you...bit of the same principle. What do you want. Not 'Mister Malfoy', not 'Heir of the House'. What does Draco want from life?"

I think I broke him. He could have withdrawn, put on that pureblood mask once again, but I don't think he knew what to do with this situation. No one in a position of 'authority' such as a teacher had ever truly confronted him about this before. Probably out of fear or wariness of his father.

"I don't know."

He sounded heartbreakingly lost, so I folded myself into my usual position, sitting on top of the desk.

"Well, what classes do you enjoy the most?"

"Potions. Ancient Runes. Arithmancy."

I raised an eyebrow,

"No Defense? I'm told that's a favorite."

He shifted in his seat, refusing to meet my eye.

I shrugged,

"Okay then, there are plenty of careers involving those three. Most of it involves research."

I thought for a second.

"I know you also like Quidditch, yes?"

Tentative nod.

"Well, something where you could fly, use those three subjects, and gives you a modicum of control over your own existence...there are a few things like that."

I uncurled, slipping off my desk and opening one of the drawers, summoning the pamphlets I needed. I had gathered a rather stupid number of them before today, anticipating this conversation happening eventually.

I walked over to his desk, placing them gently on the edge.

"Have a look at these. If one appeals to you then you can see which classes and grades you'll need for them. If you ever have questions or need help then remember, I'm always here. You're young and intelligent. Don't let having money stand in the way of being the kind of person you want to be, or having the kind of life you want to live."

He looked up from the pamphlets, finally meeting my eyes.

"Did you have this problem?"

I smirked,

"Oh hell no. I started with nothing and fought my way to power. I had a position of influence, I had connections. But I'm here now, and that's over. You can go. Have a nice weekend, Mister Malfoy. Do try to stay out of trouble, this time."

He gathered the pamphlets and left, and I had to wonder if those pamphlets wouldn't meet a hasty end the moment he got back to the dungeons.

~TimeLordOfPie