The next day was one of my slower ones, and I had an internal monologue of words I couldn't say in front of the kids. My limbs felt like they were moving underwater rather than through air, but I struggled to my classroom that morning. I taught from my desk, using my wand to write on the chalkboard. It was a Wednesday, meaning I had the Fourth years after lunch. They entered loudly, laughing about something or another. I caught mention of the twins and left it alone.

"Sit down, I've got important things to impart on you youngsters today."

In bold letters I had the chalk write on the board behind me in all caps MERLIN.

I turned back around to the sea of young faces and continued to debate showing them the entire first season just because I could, hang the consequences.

"This guy, is a legend. For you guys because of the magical accomplishments and whatnot, but to the Muggles, it was mainly for the King he supposedly advised."

I placed a runestone on the desk that spun a dusky image of 'King Arthur', and if it was Bradley James in costume then who would know but me?

"To you the great 'Merlin' is revered enough that his taking his private parts in vain is the most severe swear you can come up with, but to the majority of muggles he is, at best, a side character."

Now most of them looked vaguely offended and I held up a hand to stop the protests before they could form.

"There are many interpretations of it, the legend is just that, a legend, and you know what they say, Hero's always get remembered, but legends never die."

Some Panic! Is always good for the soul. Maybe next time I'll make a Sherlock reference in class. As it was I was left to continue explaining.

"Okay kids, listen up. I'm going to give the most basic rundown of this thing that ever was, and then a list of books that tell about it. For homework," I ignored the groans, "you will read through at least the descriptions on some of these, then the legend, and pick which telling of it either pleases your little heart the best, or that you find the closest to what you believe is historically accurate. I'm being generous here, this assignment is self-tailored. You can do it very easy and creative-like, or take the technical route. I know some people find creativity easier, and some people take a better liking to facts, this way you won't be graded harshly for something that isn't your forte."

Some kids were thoughtful, some scribbling away as if they already had an idea.

"I hate to do this to you, but this is worth a good forty five percent of your grade," my faux reluctance was obvious enough that most of them looked suspicious, Hermione included, "so really I hope you take the entire three weeks to put together something decent. If you need any help at all come to me and I'll be willing to look over what you have for grammar or understandability and whatnot."

I waved my wand, the wood warm and familiar under my fingertips,

"Now, here is the legend of King Arthur."

I did the most basic bullet point piece of shit to ever grace a blackboard in the history of academics and even Crabbe and Goyle looked a little cheated, Crabbe going so far as to raise his hand in class, nearly giving half the classroom heart attacks.

"But why was the magical sword in the lake?"

I shrugged,

"Pick a legend. Maybe his potions teacher put it there while sort of pretending to be his mother."

The reference was, of course, lost on them, but the strange looks I got were priceless. I had a feeling that for once in their lives a few of the so called 'henchmen Slytherins' were going to be putting real effort into their academics.

"Soooo, I've managed a miracle."

I was leaning against the open door to Snape's office, trying to put on an air of nonchalance, it shattered when he started, startling me at the same time. I blinked at him owlishly, ignoring the reflexive scowl he sent my way.

"What are you on about, Swift?"

"Mara. And I'm talking about Mister Crabbe and Mister Goyle who are at this very moment reading a book apiece and putting their entire efforts into an academic project."

There was something in his expression that I didn't quite catch before it was gone and he sighed,

"While this is interesting news, what brings you down here?"
I nodded, glancing behind me to make sure the door that lead from the classroom to the hall was still firmly shut. When I looked back at him his expression hadn't changed one bit,

"You, actually."

My proposal was met with a raised eyebrow and disbelieving look. I had to drag my sorry carcass out into his classroom, the man following me and paying rapt attention as I outlined a few things on his chalkboard. After I was knee deep in equations and theories he held up a hand to stop me, pinching his nose between forefinger and thumb, sighing.

"And why are you talking to me about this?"

I put the chalk down into the tray, leaning my hip against his desk and crossed my arms.

"Erm, because you're a potions master and I'm adequate at best? This is...ah, delicate work, to put it loosely. I'm not skilled enough for this, you are, and you're not someone I would see fucking it up because of prejudice."

At the look on his face I amended quickly,

"Well, you'd be prejudiced, but you wouldn't let that dictate your actions when it came to the health and happiness of thousands."

He didn't look too convinced, Slytherin to the end.

I sighed,

"And I owe you. You were the one who helped me get the Doctor back, sort of. So I figure the fortune and fame, or infamy, of curing lycanthropy might be worth something."
His expression cleared, going back to his usual mask of blankness. Getting rid of debts owed he could understand. Even if that wasn't really what I was doing here, not really.

In the end he agreed and we hashed out most of the details. I would spend certain amounts of time with him working on it, my theories and xenobiology expertise working hand in hand with his intimate knowledge of potions and their ingredients. He expressed the need for an herbologist for some of the exact specifications of a few particular ingredients and I agreed that it might be necessary for him to read Pomona into the program should he need to.

Back in my room that night I could only complain to the Doctor that the 'secret project' wasn't even secret anymore. He had no sympathy whatsoever. He was very into teamwork among humans, which I always found odd, seeing as he sometimes refused to let us help him, even when the entire universe was quite literally against him.

He spent a lot of time with the Fat Lady lately, hanging around the entrance of Gryffindor tower and giving advice to the students, telling stories of wonder and far off worlds to the younger ones. I made a mental note of moving him to the classroom, or even better, researching how to make him another frame, like Phineas Black who had a portrait in Grimmauld and Hogwarts. Perhaps I could get the Doctor a portrait for my classroom, and one for my home itself, should I ever get one…

~TimeLordOfPie