DISCLAIMER: The characters aren't mine. I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling.

SPOILERS/BACKGROUND: Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

Reviews always welcome!

CHAPTER 35:

TEACHING AND LEARNING

Willow was slow getting out of bed on Tuesday morning, and actually fell back asleep before being reawakened by the breakfast bell. She cast a glance at her reflection in the mirror and gave a muffled groan; her hair definitely had the look of a girl who had been tossing and turning in the night.

"Did you not sleep well?" Squiggles asked.

"Not really," Willow admitted quietly. "I was thinking about Tara again." The other Willow in the portrait across the room cast her eyes downward, and the image of Harry patted her shoulder comfortingly. Willow smiled wanly. She had often wished that she could step into the portrait, just to be with the illusion of her boyfriend.

"Sssorry to hear that," the snake said, though the dry, impassionate language of the snakes was hardly a good medium for sympathy.

"Urgh, it's OK," Willow groaned sleepily. "Anyway, I need to get to breakfast."

"Very well then."

She made her way down to the Great Hall and took her customary place at the end of the Slytherin line. Since the episode with the Porcomorph Hex, the Slytherin elite had reluctantly left her alone. Elaina Delacroix had assumed the head of the table by virtue of being the only prefect present who had not been in on the battle with Willow, but even she had never approached Willow, quickly getting the hint that the enigmatic American exchange student preferred to be left alone.

She was in the middle of a rare second helping of whortleberry waffles when the mail arrived. She kept her fingers crossed; it hadn't really been that long since Harry had written, but it had been longer than average, and counting the letter that Willow had sent out the previous day, she had written him twice without hearing from him, though he wouldn't be getting her second letter until this morning.

Her heart gave a small leap as a young, nondescript tawny brown owl fluttered down and settled in front of her. Harry had been refraining from using Hedwig because of the bird's fame, though he had been clearly getting a little disappointed that she wasn't feeling more confident about their relationship being public. From the sound of things, Hedwig was getting a little upset as well; Harry had described numerous times when the owl had gotten rather prim with him when he had brought in a stranger to carry his mail. She gave an apologetic look to the snowy-white owl across the hall that was busy delivering her owner's letters to Ron and Hermione, and to several other Gryffindors today as well. Harry had apparently been busy writing over the last few days. Soon, she promised inwardly, for what felt like the thousandth time. Soon. As she did so, she noticed that the Gryffindors, which, as they always did, tore their letters open immediately with childlike enthusiasm, all seemed rather excited by whatever it was he had to say.

She quickly finished her waffles, pocketed a few sausage links for Squiggles, and took her leave, wandering off to the library.

Ron and Hermione were already there. They had to have left the Great Hall only moments after Willow briefly returned her attention to her food. For some reason, they gave a surprised expression when they saw the look on her face.

"Aren't you happy?" Ron commented curiously.

"Why? Huh?" Willow asked, puzzled.

"You … oh Ron, she hasn't read it yet. Willow, read your letter!"

"I was kinda planning on it," Willow answered defensively, somewhat taken aback by their enthusiasm. Nevertheless, she quickly tore her letter open, her curiosity more than piqued by their sudden excitement.

Dear Willow,

I received an unexpected visit yesterday. Dumbledore stopped by to see how I was doing. He had some good news for me … and good news for you, too.

By this Thursday, I'll have spent enough time at home to renew the protection I get from living here. Good thing that it doesn't actually go by the school calendar … lunar cycles or some such, I have no idea. So I'll be coming back on the first train Friday, and this time, I won't have to go home again. I'll be here for the Hogsmeade visit on Saturday, for finals week, and on through fall term. I can only hope that you're feeling as good about that as I am.

I can't wait to see you again. Three more days. Until then,

Love,

Harry

Willow read it, and read it again, and read it again, the smile on her face growing wider each time. Eventually, she simply crumpled up the letter and held it to her chest like he was already there again. Four days. He would be there in four days.

"Right then, now you look a little happier," Ron observed.

"I'm still processing," Willow replied breathlessly. "I'm going to get all glowy here any second."

"Glowy? Is it too dark in here?"

"It's a Muggle figure of speech, Mr. Weasley," a kindly voice from the booth next to them corrected him. "A rather American one, at that, I might add," it continued a moment later.

The speaker emerged from the booth a moment later, but Willow had recognized the voice. She smiled as Albus Dumbledore straightened from the booth next to them. She had no idea how none of them had managed to notice him, but she had a feeling that Dumbledore had any number of ways to avoid being seen if he wished.

"Professor!" Willow greeted him, genuinely excited to see him. She hadn't seen him in a while save at meals, and he was absent increasingly often even then, and she had missed the kindly old man's presence.

"Good morning, Willow," he returned her greeting. Ron and Hermione added their own greetings a moment later, which Dumbledore returned politely.

"Were you looking for me?" Willow asked.

"I was indeed," Dumbledore confirmed. "I was wondering if I could borrow your help for the rest of the day, and maybe tomorrow."

"Um … well, sure," she agreed, hoping that she wasn't volunteering for anything exceptionally dangerous. "What do you need help with?"

"As you might remember, I've been teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts once a month."

"Sure." Snape and Moody had divided up Lupin's other classes, but Dumbledore had kept his word about teaching one class each full moon; Willow could imagine the likely reaction of most of the students had he called them off.

"I was hoping I could get you to teach with me this afternoon. Moody tells me you've become quite accomplished in a few months, and Rupert tells me you've wanted to be a teacher for some time."

Willow's eyes widened. Surprises never stopped in this place. She had always guessed that Moody had been keeping Dumbledore informed of her progress, though they had never really talked about it, and she had guessed that Dumbledore had been keeping track of her in other ways, anyway. But the fact that Dumbledore had been keeping in contact with Giles was unexpected.

She asked a question along a different line to cover her other thoughts. "Today? The full moon isn't until next week, is it?"

"It is not indeed," the wizened wizard confirmed. "However, as summer finals are next week, I have agreed to teach my classes this week instead."

"Oh, well, sure, I'll do what I can."

"Splendid, splendid. Classes begin at nine o'clock and go to four."

Willow arrived at the door of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom ten minutes before nine not really knowing what to expect. She had indeed always wanted to be a teacher, but had always been more likely to picture herself teaching computer science or biology than witchcraft. Of course, a lot had changed over the past few years, and even more over the last few months, but it was still a rather new experience that filled Willow with no small amount of anxiety, even if she would just be Dumbledore's assistant for the day. A few students were already there, and Willow waved at them shyly; these were the third-years, and she didn't know a single name among them, not even among the Slytherins. She made her way quietly to the front of the class and stood near Dumbledore, who was busy writing some notes on the chalkboard.

"'Morning again," she said.

"It is still indeed a good morning," Dumbledore answered with a smile.

A few moments later, the room was full, the nine o'clock bell sounded, and Dumbledore clapped his hands for silence.

"Good morning, everyone!" he called happily.

"Good morning, professor," the group of about forty students replied in unison.

"Splendid to see you all again!" he continued. "I'd also like everyone to please offer a good morning to Miss Rosenberg, who will also be teaching with me today."

"Good morning, Miss Rosenberg," the class said, and Willow smiled. Thinking back to her middle-school years in California, she hadn't remembered most groups of thirteen-year-olds being so polite.

"Good morning, everyone," she said, in the most teacherly tone she could muster.

"Splendid, splendid," Dumbledore said again. He seemed rather fond of that word. "Now, Professor Moody tells me that you were just finishing learning about will-o'-the-wisps and were about to start on red caps, yes?" General murmurs of assent answered him.

The lesson passed quickly, and Willow actually found it relaxing doing some of the lower-level work that she had burned through weeks ago. Will-o'-the-wisps were sentient phantom lights that liked to lure unwary travelers into bogs and quicksand, and which fed off their victims' mental energy as they sank. Dumbledore gave Willow a Weasleys' Portable Swamp to set up in the hallway outside, and Willow enjoyed the class' reaction when Dumbledore led them out into a hallway that had been converted into a festering bog for a good fifty yards in both directions. Dumbledore released a few of the phantom lights, and Willow alternated between showing the different ways to defeat a will-o'-the-wisp and standing back and letting the students try them. There were several ways of going about it; the Water-Walking and Solidification Charms were effective because it allowed the students to walk right over the patches of quicksand and entrapping mud, which would eventually convince the will-o'-the-wisp to give up rather than expend its energy fruitlessly. Darkness spells of various varieties were useful to simply block their light and ignore them. Willow knew a spell to drain psychic energy, which could actually kill a will-o'-the-wisp, but it was from a sixth-year textbook and Dumbledore never asked her to show it to the class until the end, just as a demonstration of things to come.

Dumbledore stood by the door of the classroom and kept watch, making sure no one actually got hurt; the Weasley twins' swamps were getting good, and the water was surprisingly deep in places. He also occasionally announced a point or two for one House or another whose members were performing well.

A lesson on red caps followed, followed by a quick review of hinkypunks just before the class ended and it was time for lunch. Dumbledore quickly dissipated the swamp to let his hungry charges charge off towards the Great Hall. Willow stayed behind, sensing that he wanted to use the opportunity to talk to her.

"So … how did I do?" she asked.

Dumbledore laughed lightly. "Very well, Willow, very well indeed. In fact, I was hoping I could talk to you about that for a moment."

"Um … sure."

"As you well know, we're going to have a lot more students here after next week."

"Sure."

"And there is also a war building. Voldemort's power is growing and his forces are massing."

"I kinda heard."

"Yes, of course. However, I make it a point to spend as much time as possible at Hogwarts. The future of the wizarding world is forged within these walls, and I am quite attached to this place … to its students, even to its food. Have you tried the whortleberry waffles yet?"

"I have," Willow agreed, with a smile. "I'm attached, too."

"Indeed," Dumbledore continued, the light twinkle sparkling in his eye that always made him so instantly endearing. "Well, as you are well aware by now, Harry will be returning here Friday, and regular fall term will be starting a week from Monday. It is therefore important that I be here as well."

"OK."

"However, there is a great deal of grave import happening every day in London. The Order of the Phoenix is needed there every day."

"The what?"

Dumbledore smiled, well aware that she hadn't known of them beforehand. "I beg your pardon. A group of wizards and witches that I founded some time ago to lead the resistance against Voldemort. We came out of retirement, so to speak, last year."

"Oh. Sorry, I hadn't heard of them."

"Few people have, Miss Rosenberg, few people have," he said, an amused twinkle in his eye. "It's a secret organization, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone."

"Oh, right." Willow gave him a questioning look. "Well … thank you," she said.

"Well, I am the head of the Order, and I've been spending quite a deal of time in London with the Ministry recently, planning the defense. However, with the Ministry and I finally beginning to get on the same page, it is less important that I be there and more important that I be here. However, it is important that the Order have a high-level representative to stay in London to coordinate our efforts."

"So who's your second-in-command?" Willow asked.

Dumbledore smiled in a way that let Willow know she had stumbled on the crux of the matter. "Alastor Moody."

Willow's mind raced. That certainly made sense, if half the rumors she had heard about Moody's exploits as an Auror were true.

"Is he leaving?" Willow asked. Then, more nervously, "Does he need his books back?"

Dumbledore laughed. "Ever the ambitious student, I see," he chuckled. "I'm beginning to see what the hat saw in you. Yes, he's going to have to go to London, and I'm sure he'll want his books back. However, that was not the real point."

Willow's mind worked again, trying to follow where he was leading. "Are you asking me to join?" she asked cautiously.

Dumbledore's kindly face sobered slightly. "Not yet, Willow, not yet. Moody certainly has a high opinion of you, and there are few people that can claim that, but not yet. None of the other members know you well enough, and we try to keep the group small."

"That's all right," Willow said quickly. She wasn't really disappointed about not being asked to join an organization that she knew next to nothing about and had only just heard of; she was more disappointed with herself that she couldn't figure out where Dumbledore was going. "So where do I come in?" she asked.

"Well, after this week, Moody is going to have to leave for London. He will leave as soon as Harry arrives on Friday."

"All right …" Willow still didn't see where she entered into the picture.

"That will leave us with a Defense Against the Dark Arts position open."

Willow's eyes bulged, and she gaped at him incredulously. "You can't be serious!?"

Dumbledore smiled at her surprise. "He's been grooming you for the position for some time," he noted. "Loaning you his books, asking you to teach Harry—your letters should prove good experience for writing lesson plans. And I quite liked what I saw from you in just the past two hours."

"Goddess …" Willow breathed. Then, a moment later, something occurred to her.

"Wait … no, I'm sorry, I can't …" she breathed.

"Harry will be taking Defense Against the Dark Arts specially from me," Dumbledore interrupted with a smile. He seemed to be much better at reading her than she was at reading him, Willow noticed. "He scored higher than anyone since Tom Riddle on the Dark Arts O.W.L. last June; in fact, he has already been teaching other students himself."

"Oh." Willow breathed a sigh of relief, though she still hadn't fully made up her mind about whether or not to accept.

"You don't need to answer right away," Dumbledore said. "I'd like to see how you do with the second and first years this afternoon, anyway. But please consider my offer. All of my other choices are also in the Order."

"Thanks," she said, not knowing what else to say.

Lunch passed, and Willow returned to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom to help Dumbledore with the second-year class; the topics of the day were Cornish and Welsh pixies, which Dumbledore released into the classroom one at a time and allowed the second-year students to attempt to capture them again. Willow moved around the room, helping the students with their enunciation and wand movements whenever she spotted any of them doing anything wrong, and encouraging a few of the more shy students to be a little more confident in their spellcasting. When the bell rang, Willow looked up at Dumbledore and offered him a shy smile, walking up to his desk.

"Thanks," she said quietly as the last of the second-years filed out and the earliest of the first-years began to nudge their way in. "This is really relaxing, actually. Why didn't you bring me in here before?"

Dumbledore laughed, and answered lightly, "Most of the staff actually don't find dealing with large groups of adolescents so calming," he said lightly. However, he held her eyes as he said it, and Willow suddenly heard his voice in the silence of her mind. I had to wait until you were feeling good about yourself again.

Willow quickly understood, and nodded. With Harry and Buffy gone and her friends increasingly unavailable, her self-confidence had been rather strained and she had put herself under a lot of stress. In addition, her thoughts had begun to grow darker again when she thought about Tara and Warren and Dawn in the car. Knowing that Harry was coming back had been a huge boost for her mood, however, and the darkness seemed much further away than it had just a few hours earlier.

The first-years filed in, and Willow smiled lightly at Vincent Byron as he took a seat near the front. He waved at her as he came in; apparently, the word had gotten out that Willow had left her hermitage to help Dumbledore with his lessons today.

"Good morning, everyone!" Dumbledore said as the two o'clock bell rang. The usual round of introductions followed.

"It appears Professor Snape has been pushing you rather hard," Dumbledore noted. "You've already made it to Disarming Charms. Impressive. Well, well, this should be quite interesting." He quickly had the class move their desks to the side of the room.

"Very well," Dumbledore continued. "Everyone please pair off, and let's see what you've learned."

The students quickly paired off, but there were thirty-seven students in the class, so there was one student left without a partner. As it turned out, that was Vincent. Willow looked at Dumbledore, who smiled and shrugged, before going over to the first-year boy.

"You can practice with me, if you'd like," she offered.

Vincent, who had been about to group up with another two Slytherins to make a trio, turned at the sound of her voice. He smiled a moment later, and gave her a polite bow. "I'd be honored," he said, bringing a smile to Willow's face.

They took positions across from each other at the front of the room, each at the end of the two lines of students facing each other that had formed as the practical session got under way.

"Go for it," Willow encouraged him.

Vincent nodded. Willow suddenly realized that almost all the others had stopped, and were watching the two of them. She didn't realize she would attract such attention. Vincent swished his wand, and chanted clearly, "Expelliarmus!" Willow didn't bother to defend; she wasn't here to practice dueling. She let her wand fly from her grasp, and gave Vincent a quick thumbs-up. Only three of the other first-years in the room had been able to make it work on the first try.

"Do keep practicing," Dumbledore called from the front of the room, and the rest of the class, as if suddenly awoken from a daydream, quickly resumed their own practice.

"Did you just win some status?" Willow joked as she retrieved her wand.

Vincent laughed. "Not really. You didn't block."

Willow smiled. He definitely took the Game seriously, but then again, he also seemed to be pretty good at it.

"Come on, try again," she said.

"Aren't you going to try?" he asked.

"I don't think I should," she said simply. "I'm the teacher. At least, sort of." She wondered at the sound of that in her voice, however. I'm the teacher. She found that it had a rather pleasant ring to it.

Vincent shrugged. "Very well," he said, and he disarmed her again.

She was recovering her wand from the third time he disarmed her when he called, "Block it this time."

Willow laughed, and shook her head modestly. "That's not why I'm here," she reminded him.

"I know," he said. "I just want to feel how far I have to go."

Willow smiled. He was definitely ambitious, and Moody had even commented once that the lad had the intelligence of Ravenclaw's best and the ambition of Slytherin's worst. "Maybe later," she demurred.

"Very well," he said, but a sly grin split his face a moment later, and Willow tensed.

"Rictusempra!" he chanted.

"Protego!" Willow reacted instinctively. She was not about to let herself get magically tickled in front of an entire room full of eleven-year-olds. She had had enough of that when she had been an occasional babysitter back when she was genuinely sixteen. Apparently there was something universal about eleven-year-old boys and tickling. In fact, she thought with a wicked grin as memories of a certain night above a shop in Diagon Alley resurfaced, many apparently never grew out of it.

"Thanks," Vincent said with a smile and a graceful bow. She had deflected his spell easily, but he had gotten what he wanted, and Willow had to give a resigned smile. He had a long way to go, but he was only eleven and already had a better control of his wand and his will than many of the third-years she had watched slogging through the swamp earlier. If he stayed as proportionately far ahead of the class as he was, Willow was almost positive he'd be a prefect in four years, unless there were some big surprises in the rest of the incoming class in the fall.

"All right then!" Dumbledore called. "Well, before we put the desks back, I believe we have time for a game of Dodge-Charm. Two points to the winner, one to second place. Good luck, everyone!"

Willow quickly backed out of the way, guessing from the look Dumbledore sent her way that she wasn't supposed to participate in this one. Charms suddenly started flying in all directions, and Dumbledore quickly summoned a clear, semicircular shield in front of himself and beckoned Willow to get behind it as well. She was only too eager.

Several minutes later, Vincent Byron was left squaring off with Torrence Appleby across the room. Willow was surprised to see the shy, slender Gryiffindor whom she remembered from the stairwell all those weeks ago as one of the last two remaining, but then remembered that Torrence was one of the three others to have worked the Disarming Charm correctly on the first try at the beginning of the lecture, so she had to have been practicing. What had the hat said about her? Hmm, shy are we? But there's something under there … yes, definitely, such a spark burning in there, if we can bring it to life …

"Expelliarmus!" Vincent chanted.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" the girl chanted at the same time. A wand that had been disarmed from someone else floated up into her outstretched hand, and she held her actual wand behind her, allowing Vincent's charm to knock the other one from her hand.

"Expel …," Vincent chanted again, but he broke off in mid-chant as the other girl began to try the same tactic again. He grinned. "Rictusempra!"

The other girl was not expecting that, and gave a sudden squeal of laughter as the force of the Tickling Charm wrapped around her ribs. Vincent cast another Disarming Charm a moment later, and it was over. Willow put a hand to her forehead and shook her head, but quickly stuck her wand out from behind Dumbledore's shield and chanted "Finite Incantatem" to end Vincent's spell, since had hadn't lost his wand or cancelled the charm. Vincent turned and smiled at her sheepishly. Dumbledore lowered the shield a moment later.

"Well done, all of you!" he said. "And yes, two points to Vincent Byron for his victory, and one to Torrence Appleby for a splendid effort as well."

The rest of the lesson didn't require partnering off, so Willow returned to her spot at the front of the class as the first-years pushed their desks back into place for a lesson on some basic detecting charms. As with the other classes, Willow walked around helping students individually where she could while Dumbledore stood and lectured from the front. It seemed like barely any time had passed when the dismissal bell rang.

"Well, what do you think?" Dumbledore asked, once all the students had left the classroom.

"Hmm. I think Vincent is a little too fond of that Tickling Charm."

Dumbledore laughed, his eyes sparkling merrily. "Indeed. I do believe he tried that on you just to see if he could do it. I believe he may have had his eye on Torrence for a few weeks now."

"Dumbledore!!" Willow flushed. They're both only eleven! she thought to herself. People weren't really starting that young back in Sunnydale, were they? Then again, they might have been, and she would have missed it completely.

Dumbledore chuckled. "It's surprising how much one can see from the teachers' table," he noted sagely. "And I've been occupying that seat for a great many years now. But speaking of the teachers' table … are you still interested?"

Willow sighed. She still had no real idea what she was getting into, but when it came down to it, she had enjoyed these lessons. Nonetheless, she only half believed what she was saying as she answered, "You know what? I think I am."

The venerable wizard smiled. "Splendid. Alastor will be pleased to hear it, I'm sure. And, I believe, a certain aspiring Auror will be as well."

Willow smiled. He probably would, at that.

Author's Notes: I hit the 500 review mark! W00t! (And neither Harry nor Draco have even reappeared yet … wowzers!) Thanks to everyone who's been with this fic for a while now; this is definitely the biggest fanfiction project I've ever undertaken and you guys have made keeping going on this a heckuva lot easier. [Bows. Not worthy! Not worthy!]

Coming Soon: Chapter 36, "Reunited." Harry returns. 'Nuff said.

Sneak Preview:

She turned around at last. Harry was more visible from this angle, and he was rising to his feet. She felt her heart rise into her throat.

Vowel sounds, she reminded herself. Just manage a few vowel sounds.