Chapter One

The American

Drew flicked a bit of lint off his robes, which were a simple, all-purpose black, and looked at himself in the mirror. He sighed. It was a good thing the headmistress at Hogwarts had lost her eyesight, because he didn't look like a very reputable character.

Mostly, it was the eye, or lack thereof. His eye had been missing for five years, and it still surprised him to see the empty socket, sometimes. He could've had a false eye, he thought, but that seemed cowardly, somehow. Better to admit that it was gruesome and live with it. His face was remarkably devoid of scars, but it was obvious something had happened to him. The cheekbone under his missing eye did not match the one under his good eye, and his chin and jawline were very uneven.

He shrugged. "Get on with it," he told his reflection firmly, and snapped his eyepatch into place. It might be cowardly to get a false eye, but best he didn't frighten off the children with the gaping socket. He pulled a shock of dark hair free of the band for the patch, and gave the mirror a sort of grimacing smile. He was worried about his interview, and he suddenly missed New York.

He limped out of the lovely but impulsive Tillie's flat, leaning heavily on his cane and cursing the damp weather that made his leg ache especially, and into an alley. After a quick look about to be sure no one was watching, he Disapparated.

"Headmistress?"

"Yes, Poppy, what is it?"

"The candidate is here for his interview. Argus is bringing him up."

"He's early," McGonagall observed with no evident malice or praise. "Be a dear and fetch Zacharias, would you?"

"Of course, Minerva."

Minerva gently touched her robes and her hair, checking to be sure she was presentable. She still insisted on conducting the interviews personally, but she preferred to have Zacharias here to be her eyes. He was a trustworthy boy, Zacharias Smith. He'd taken the job of teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts when Potter first turned down the offer directly after the end of the war, and he'd taken over as Head of Hufflepuff as well, when Sprout had left the country. He was good with the children, if a bit aloof, and had done a great deal to reestablish the reputation of the school after it had been nearly deserted in the two years of war with Voldemort after Albus had died. It had been difficult to find people willing to take jobs at the school, and she'd started having to look outside Hogwarts alumni for candidates. She'd hired a French woman who'd been a student of Beauxbatons to teach Transfiguration, and to become Head of Ravenclaw, as Filius was beginning to feel his age and needed a little more time to himself.

This year, Minerva had suffered a double blow that she was attempting to recover from. Horace Slughorn, who'd been good enough to stay after his one year out of retirement, had passed away, and then Charlie Weasley had decided to return to Romania and his beloved dragons. Charlie's five years at Hogwarts had also gone far in regaining students. As the brother of the mighty war heroes, and a fun-loving man whom the children adored, it hadn't been hard to repopulate Gryffindor house and restart Quidditch teams when they finally had enough students. Having the affable Slughorn as Head of Slytherin had rebuilt a portion (though admittedly a very small portion) of faith in that house.

She'd been able to convince a Slytherin boy named Kilburne who'd only graduated two years ago and had gone on to a Muggle university to return to the school to take up as Head of his house, and to teach Ancient Runes, which hadn't been taught since he'd graduated. Now, she needed a flying instructor, a Potions master, and a Head for Gryffindor. The candidate whom Filch was probably bringing up here right now looked promising. He was interested in teaching Potions, and he'd responded to a note she'd sent by saying that he was a fair flyer and might be willing to instruct the first years in proper broom handling. He didn't think he'd have time to be involved in Quidditch, as Charlie had been, however, not if she wanted a dedicated Potions master. Minerva thought that could be gotten around, but it remained to be seen if he would be any good for Gryffindor. He admitted that he knew little of the four Houses here, having gone to a very small wizarding school in the United States.

"Professor McGonagall?" called out a voice in unison with a rap on her door.

"For Merlin's sake, Zacharias, you're a professor yourself, call me Minerva."

"Of course," Zacharias said smoothly, but Minerva knew better. She reminded him so often she'd lost track of it. She conjured up a chair so he could sit beside her, and then she felt him doing magic.

"What's that?"

"Just adding a cushion, Minerva," he answered, and she could hear the warm smile in his voice.

"I'm glad you got here before our candidate," she started to say, but then there was another rap at the door.

"Headmistress, here he is," announced Filch.

"Thank you, Argus. Come in, then, young man."

"Thank you for your time today, ma'am," he began, and though his speech was very proper, it had that flat Americanness to it.

"Not at all, I'm very grateful to have you apply here. It's Mr. Stevens, isn't it?"

"Yes, ma'am, Drew Stevens. Please, call me Drew."

"Drew," she repeated, not liking it one bit. One used first names between professors, not candidates. "Remind me where you're from?"

"New York City, but my school was in New Hampshire."

"Yes. Now, then—"

"Mr. Stevens, what happened to your eye?" Zacharias interrupted bluntly.

"What do you mean?" Minevera asked, her voice sharp.

"Forgive me, headmistress," Stevens said calmly. "I'd forgotten, I'm afraid, that you would need my appearance described. But I'm sure your assistant would be happy to."

"I am Professor Smith, the Deputy Headmaster," Zacharias returned. "Headmistress, he has a patch over one eye and appears to have had a serious injury to his face at some point."

"That's right," Stevens said agreeably. "I also walk with a cane, you failed to mention that."

Zacharias responded with silence, and Minerva's impatience flashed again.

"Well, if it's important, explain, if not, let's move on!"

"It's not very important," Stevens said slowly. "It was a werewolf attack."

Minvera very deliberately did not flinch away. "I see."

"And you're a werewolf yourself, then, Stevens? Were you planning to mention that?"

"I am not a werewolf," he said calmly. "I was not bitten. I'm sure you've heard of the problem Canada is having with lycanthropy?"

Everyone had. Hermione Granger—well, Hermione Simpson now, she'd married that Canadian Healer—and Remus Lupin and his wife Nymphadora had spent several years there lending their assistance to the struggle. Minerva nodded at him to continue.

"I spent some time up there, when they still needed as many people to fight as they could find. I was savaged by a werewolf who had not completed the transformation and who was more intent on battering me than biting me. I usually hesitate to mention it because I have met too many ignorant people who assume that contact of any kind leads to a lycanthropy infection. Forgive me for assuming the worst of you."

Smoothly done, Minerva thought, impressed, and she judged Zacharias impressed as well, by his silence. Stevens had explained himself, laid to rest any fears, and clearly indicated he was ready for a change in topic, all without ever being too direct or rude. He seemed to be a calm, collected individual with a quick mind. He might indeed make a decent Potions master. However, she did not give up, and she forced the rest of the story out of him. An amazing story, it seemed, though he'd given her much of it by letter already. He was nothing if not hard to kill.

Then they discussed his experience with Potions work. It seemed he'd had a competent instructor and ample opportunity to use and improve upon his education since graduating about ten years ago. He was nearly the same age as Zacharias, it seemed. Convinced that his knowledge of his subject was satisfactory, she turned the topic to the other positions she wished him to fill.

"Now, then, about flying and Quidditch," she said abruptly. "You had indicated a concern that you would not be able to fulfill both duties with all the attention they need. Honestly, Charlie Weasley had far too much time on his hands, with the number of students we have at this point, and being a head of house on top of it still didn't require all his time. I will admit that in another year or two, if we continue to expand as we have been, it will become necessary to divide the duties again. However, I believe at this point, as do several others, that you will find it easy to manage. The first year class is the only one large enough to split up by houses for lessons, therefore there will be a smaller number of classes to teach. It should be no trouble."

"I see your point," Stevens said agreeably. "Well, I'd certainly be willing to try. Flying lessons shouldn't be difficult, and I played enough Quidditch in school that I think I can referee matches with no trouble. I'm sure I can do it. It's the other thing you mentioned that concerns me . . ."

"Becoming Head of Gryffindor House?"

"Yes. I see that you're trying to, ah, kill three birds with one stone, and I have to admit, I've been wondering why."

Cheeky, Minerva thought, but had to concede that it did look odd. "Mr. Stevens, let us be perfectly frank. I'm sure you know at least the basics of what went on here when Harry Potter was in school and in the war that began with Headmaster Dumbledore's murder."

"I do."

"Then you can probably understand why I have had a great deal of trouble attracting applicants to positions at this school. Zacharias here has done a great deal to restore faith, teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts for six years and laying to rest the idea that the position is cursed. However, we still have an exceptionally small number of students in Slytherin House, and you are the only candidate I have found for the Potions job. You know of Severus Snape, I assume."

She hoped that Stevens could not see the utter agony that still went through her when she thought of Severus and what he had wrought. She was nearly blind, and it did not do to seem weak in front of anyone more than could be helped when they were likely to underestimate her.

"Yes."

"As for needing to fill three positions at once, I had hoped to offer the headship and the flying instruction to another person, but he has turned me down, and I've left it a bit late to go looking for anyone else."

"I do understand, headmistress. I understand very well. My main concern is only that I would not be a good fit for Gryffindor House. As I said, I know little of your houses, but I'm not sure that I would fit in."

Minerva sighed. "Well, we've run into this situation before. I have a teacher here from France who is now the Head of Ravenclaw, though she was unsure of herself. We have a Sorting Hat, you know, that sorts the students into their houses. What we did with Professor Milles was simply to ask the hat whether there was any reason she would not fit in with Ravenclaw."

"Ah," Stevens said, sounding still quite calm. Did nothing faze the man? Well, of course it wouldn't, if his past was to be believed.

"I have to say I'm surprised," Zacharias interrupted, "that you don't think you'd make a good Gryffindor, Mr. Stevens. Battling werewolves for your country, and applying to teach at a school when you only planned to be here on holiday? Didn't you know Gryffindor prizes courage?"

Now Stevens did seem to be distinctly uncomfortable. Well, Zacharias had that effect on people. Besides, Minerva was too keen to hear his answer to try to repair the peace.

"I had heard it more that Gryffindor prizes courage over reason and strategy," he said. "It's rumoured that Gryffindors are reckless and stubborn. No offense to you, ma'am, I hear you were Gryffindor yourself. I only meant to explain what I'd been told."

"Well, Mr. Stevens, I can tell you that Gryffindor does place value on bravery, but also on intelligence and compassion. It's the house with the largest number of students right now, possibly due to previous members. Harry Potter and the Weasleys, our war heroes."

"Well, as long as I'm not expected to rush off to die in battle," Stevens said with a weak laugh, and Minerva felt a prick of exasperation amidst a wave of depression. This was how it always happened. The candidates realized what had come before them, and felt they couldn't live up to it, and they disappeared faster than a bag of sweets in the student's common room.

"Would you at least be willing to give it a try?" Zacharias asked with impatience. Minerva would have given anything to be able to see the faces of the two men rather than the sort of pale blobs floating above dark blobs she did see.

Stevens was very quiet. Then, "Yes," he murmured. "Yes, I will try."

"Excellent. I will fetch the Sorting Hat, headmistress."

Zacharias left to do just that, and Minerva fixed her failed eyes on the blob that was Stevens, hoping her gaze was steady and not wandering.

"Well, Mr. Stevens, I am prepared to take you on as our Potions master, even if the hat shares your concerns about headship. I can always try leaning on my other candidate a little harder. What do you say?"

"Well," he said, sounding surprised. "I say that's very good news, headmistress. Thank you very much. I'm grateful for the opportunity."

"Here we are," Zacharias said heartily, and Minerva felt her heart squeeze a bit in anticipation. "Just put this on, like so, and—"

"All right, then," Minerva interrupted, tilting her face up to the hat. "I realize he's older than the students, and it would be quite difficult to sort him. I only want to know if you see anything that would bar him from Gryffindor."

The hat made a disgruntled noise and muttered a bit.

"What's that?"

"As I've told you," the hat grated out, "adults are always more difficult than students, but this is impossible. He's horribly conflicted and complex. If I had to make a guess, I'd say this was a Slytherin or maybe a Ravenclaw, but there's enough confusion that you could put him anywhere. I see Gryffindor boldness, sure enough."

"Thank you for lending us your advice," Minerva told the hat gravely, and Zacharias removed the hat back to its resting place to await the beginning of term in two weeks.

Stevens didn't speak.

"Well, Mr. Stevens?"

"Ah," he let out a desperate sound, trying to answer. "I'm sorry, headmistress, but that was a very odd experience."

"Take your time, then."

"I . . . I'm willing, I think. To take all three positions. For this year, anyway, as long as it's possible to review the situation next year when we see the number of students coming in."

"Well, that's settled then," Zacharias said in a hearty and completely false voice.

"Congratulations, Mr. Stevens, or Professor Stevens I should say," he laughed, also falsely. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

Stevens shook hands with both of them, thanked them until Minerva nearly wanted to stop up her ears, and finally departed to prepare himself and pack his things. He said he would return next week to settle in and get to know the castle a bit before the students arrived.

Zacharias turned to Minerva as soon as Stevens was out of the room. "I don't trust him, Professor."

"Well, he's understandably a bit reserved. Give him time to get to know the place. He's only been in the country for a few weeks, after all."

"It's not that, Professor. You didn't see his face—beg your pardon, but it's important. When you were asking him about Gryffindor, he looked very queer, and when you suggested the hat, he nearly panicked. I honestly expected him to bolt out of the office while I was fetching it."

Minerva frowned. "It could be that he was only nervous about it, but you're right, we rarely see that much fear in our first years. Well, it's too late to be helped now, Zacharias. Just watch him. After all, what on earth would he want to hurt us for?"

"Indeed," Zacharias mused.

"He's very young, isn't he? To have all those injuries."

"I'll save my sympathy for the day he convinces me he deserves it."

"You're always looking for enemies, aren't you?"

"I'd think you of all people would understand it, Professor. After what Snape and Malfoy did here, one can't be too careful."

Minerva frowned. She would not become paranoid. She refused to allow the past to do that to her. "What worries you?"

"His story. His Muggle employer in New York City confirmed he's worked there for four years, correct?"

"Yes. And beyond that, in the wizarding world, he has no past between his school years and leaving to live as a Muggle. His government asked it of him. I understand, there are times when things must be done that you would prefer not to let the public see—"

"But they can't confirm he worked for them?"

"He was invisible, Zacharias. The whole idea is that he didn't work for anyone."

"But you could have asked them. Everyone knows who you are, Headmistress."

The look she turned on him shut him up for a moment, but Zacharias was really just like a dog with a bone, she thought. He was determined not to trust this Stevens lad.

"Well, then, assuming his story is true, all right? Assuming that . . . how could you think he will be able to teach children? If I had children, I wouldn't let him near them."

Minvera sighed. "I have a feeling."

"A feeling," he said flatly, and Minerva abruptly was angry. He had no right to question her, none at all.

"Yes, a feeling, Zacharias! I had a feeling that Harry Potter could play Quidditch, I had a feeling Severus was going to do something awful, I had a feeling that a young boy barely out of school could help me lead Hogwarts back from ruin, and now I have a feeling that this poor boy who seems to have been bathed in blood will be good with children! It's a feeling, Zacharias, and as the Headmistress of this school, my feeling is that you need to stop questioning me and welcome your new colleague. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes," he said shortly. "If you'll excuse me, then, I have some things that need to be seen to."

He departed the office, and Minerva tried to calm down. That never would have worked if Zacharias didn't still think of her as his professor, she thought ruefully. Merlin, sometimes she hated her feelings.