Disclaimer: I am not making money from this story. I don't own Harry Potter or any characters you recognize. Some of these characters I completely made up. Not like that will help…
A/N: I keep forgetting to thank my good friend Claire, who has been such a wonderful help!
"It is one of the irritating things about old teachers. I am afraid they never quite forget their charges youthful beginnings." - Dumbledore, HBP, p.442
Chapter 2
Andy stood in front of the mirror and tried desperately in his fourth futile attempt that morning to tame his jet black hair. Although his mother and aunt had tried absolutely everything in their power (and that was a lot) to make his hair cooperate since Andy was four, his dad would just rumple it up again and tease that nobody would recognize him if his hair actually looked presentable. Andy's dad, the famous Harry Potter, was the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor here at Hogwarts and a popular teacher amongst the students and the faculty. His mom was Ginevra Potter, hero of the second war against Voldemort and flying instructor/Quiddich referee (except when Andy himself was playing and professor Krum had to do the honors.)
Andy was in his sixth year here, and was practically inseparable with his two best friends, Castor and Heather. Castor was his cousin, his Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione's son, and as Andy looked at his reflection he saw Castor over his shoulder bouncing up and down on one foot trying to pull on a perfectly knitted sock. Castor was completely obsessed with books, practically lived in the library, and had the highest grades in the school. He often could be found amongst the dusty stacks, having been immersed in a certain book for hours. Castor loved to read about ancient prophecy, despite Aunt Hermione's continued attempts to try to steer him away from it. He may have been quite the bookworm, but he also had no common sense to speak of. Andy liked his little quirks, like always talking with his mouth full and how maliciously he played wizard's chess. He had short, curly brown hair that marked him as Aunt Hermione's son, but the deep blue eyes were definitely Uncle Ron's.
Heather was so different from Andy and Castor. She was what she liked to call an "accident". Her parents had her very late in life; they were older than everyone else's parents. She was raised mostly by Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione with Castor, though, because her dad, Gilderoy Lockhart went A.W.O.L. for awhile (Dad, Uncle Ron, and Aunt Hermione never liked him very much anyway). Her mother, affectionately remembered by Andy's parents as Tonks, died when Heather was born prematurely. Heather was the beauty of Gryffindor Tower, and although she had her mother's power to spontaneously change her appearance, she only did to escape the confines of the invisibility cloak on the three friends' midnight wanderings. When she wasn't Mrs. Potato Head (a muggle toy) she had long, perfect blonde hair that fell in soft waves over her shoulders and a blinding smile that she mischievously used to talk her way out of absolutely everything. She was clumsier than Castor, and had broken every dish in the Burrow more than once… let alone the delicate instruments in her adopted mother's office here that Dumbledore had left for all the headmasters and headmistresses who would come after him. Heather would smile it all away, and together the three children had grown up with the some of the most famous people of the wizarding world.
Andy smiled to his reflection while thinking about Heather. Andy hadn't seen her all summer because she had to go visit her dad in France. He and Castor had missed her, but they didn't see her at all on the train. Despite the fact that all three were in some way related to the headmistress, she was very stern about making sure their experiences were as normal as possible. That meant a.) riding the train to school with everyone else, and b.) mountains of detention.
oooo
Heather had been humming to herself all morning. She was going to see Andy again! Ever since they were young she had thought he was funny and smart, and liked him so much, but she hadn't been able to tell him that for fear that he would reject her and that their friendship would be ruined. (Aunt Ginny had told her that she had had the same sort of relationship with Uncle Harry, and they ended up married, so there was some hope). This was her year. She would tell him that he made her throat dry up when he hugged her hello, and that she couldn't stop smiling whenever she was near him, and he would say that he feels the same way and everything would work out ok.
Before she could tell Andy anything, however, Heather had to deal with the new girl. Emeline was beautiful, with her silver hair and porcelain doll complexion. Not even the permanent sneer could disfigure her face. The two girls had met at a party in France when Heather was visiting her biological father that summer. The girl had immediately introduced herself as Emeline Malfoy when Heather had walked in. They talked for awhile, while their fathers discussed Arthur Weasley becoming the Minister of Magic in England. Soon Heather discovered that Em would be transferring from the school she'd been in the last five years (a frilly little French place called Beauxbatons, isn't that where Phlegm was from?) to Heather's own school because her mother had died the previous year and they had no more ties to France. Emeline was afraid, but Heather had promised that nothing weird would happen to her.
That's how Heather got roped into playing tour guide this morning, introducing Emeline to the castle she loved as much as the Burrow, or Hagrid's Hut.
oooo
Draco Malfoy knocked on the door of the office he had only seen once or twice before when it had been occupied by that old coot Dumbledore and his bloody phoenix. Now it was occupied by the know-it-all mudblood he had spent his entire adolescent life tormenting. He cursed his awful luck, knowing that if Gabi had lived Emeline would be able to stay at Beauxbatons, but she- they- didn't belong there anymore. He took a deep breath as his face slid into the sneer that had plagued Hogwarts for seven years and squeezed Emeline's slender shoulder as the door with the obnoxious griffin knocker slowly opened. He was met with a straight faced Hermione and a young blonde girl about Emeline's age who politely kissed her on each cheek before asking his daughter what she thought of Hogwarts. Draco glided over to the headmistress. "Granger," He spit his greeting at her, "Why wasn't I informed about you inheriting this dump until last night?"
"Hello to you too," Hermione sarcastically replied, "It's not Granger anymore, Malfoy. I'm married to Ron now."
"That weasel! Well, at least the minister's daughter in law can sodding satisfy his bloody plug collecting addiction." Draco was livid now. How much had he actually missed? 'Has this bloody school finally gone off the deep end? I can only hope that some of the professors these days are decent!'
"Malfoy, I would appreciate it if you didn't act as if we were ignorant children here. If you are going to complain about the Minister of Magic, do it on your own time. Don't waste mine." She stared menacingly into Draco's cold, grey eyes to solidify her point. "I have been headmistress here for four years, it is not my fault you ran away to France with Fleur's little sister and haven't been keeping up." She walked over to the glistening hair and ivory skin that was Draco's daughter, smiling politely." Hello Ms. Malfoy, Heather will help you out for awhile. If you ever need anything, just ask her, ok?" Draco felt his face slowly settle and his fists unclench as he looked at his daughter, then suddenly his body tensed again as he realized the Hermione was trying to be nice. To HIS daughter. Emeline did not need Hermione's pity.
"Come darling," he growled at Emeline, "We must make sure the house elves unpack your things correctly." He swooped out the door with his daughter in tow.
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Breakfast was eventful that morning. Owls were hooting, children were talking much louder than necessary, and with his delivery of The Daily Prophet Harry ended up with about four feathers landing on top of his kippers. He had talked to Hermione about what happened earlier that morning in her office, and wondered what in the world he had ever done to deserve Malfoy back in his life. At first, he cursed his rotten luck at having Draco's daughter as a student, but then he was hit with a sudden stroke of inspiration. All he knew is that he didn't know Emeline Malfoy, only Draco. Maybe Emeline was different than him. Maybe she wasn't a horrible pure blood mania infused git like her father was- is. Harry remembered his first potions lesson and how Snape had automatically judged him based on his father's behavior. 'If I automatically assume she's a right foul git, aren't I as bad as Snape was?' As if on cue, Emeline effortlessly floated into the great hall with Heather who showed her where to sit at the Slytherin table. Heather wandered back to Andy, Castor, Darcie, and some of their other friends. Harry smiled and turned to Hermione. "She'll do just fine."
