In our last chapter…
"Spy?" the young woman asked quietly, eyes hooded. Severus gave a short nod. "So, you are a Death Eater." It was not a question. Another short nod. "Hm." Brethany seemed to consider it for a moment, then nodded. "Thank you, Severus. I'm certain that's an exceedingly difficult role to play, not to mention dangerous. I am grateful you would take such a position." The two considered each other carefully, faces blank. The entire room was silent, conscious of the undercurrents between the two colleagues.
"I suppose it's my turn," Brethany finally spoke brightly. "Brethany Lewis, wandmaker, Legilimens, and well versed in both the Dark Arts and defense thereof; liaison to the American Aurors and the British vampires," there was a stir at this, "And," she paused, "To the American Unspeakables." Everyone froze in their seats, staring at her in shock. Unable to help herself, Brethany grinned and said, "Pleasure to meet you all." Chaos instantly broke out.
And Now…
-Saturday, November 17-
"This is so embarrassing," Brethany muttered to herself, staring down at her outfit. "I haven't worn this since I was…sixteen." The dancing slippers were a bit snug, she mused, the skirt a bit short, and the neck of the blouse a bit low due to the aging of the cloth and the, er, growth of her body. "I'm going to kill Harry for asking me to do this," she muttered as she adjusted the clothing with a wave of her wand.
"If you think I'm having any more fun out of this than you, you are much mistaken," Harry stomped into the room, his face in a scowl. "It's bloody embarrassing, is what it is."
"My words exactly," she muttered back, looking the teenager over. "Harry, we have to do something about your clothes." It was true. All the boy's muggle clothing were ridiculously large and ragged on him; castoffs and hand-me-downs from his (much)bigger cousin. It was never a problem when he wore the Hogwarts uniform, but for extra-curricular activities such as a private dance lesson (and didn't that sound dreadfully improper, Brethany tutted at herself), the baggy t-shirt tucked into horribly large jeans, and clean but ancient tennis shoes were the only clothes he could wear.
"Well, when you come up with some way for me to shop for regular clothes and then keep the Dursleys from confiscating them, let me know," the teenager retorted spitefully. "Dumbledore and his bloody plots within plots," he muttered. "He knows I hate the Dursleys." Brethany rolled her eyes, used to the hormonal outbursts she occasionally brought upon herself.
"Well, Merlin knows we'll do both those things eventually," she sighed. "Until then, we'll go the cheap, temporary route and just transfigure them." The teacher waved the wand over his outfit, reducing the horribly baggy clothing to smaller, snugger items of better materials. "You might want to take your shoes off, Harry, since I'd rather like to keep my toes the way they are." He glared at her, but it was mild. Obviously, he'd regained some control; Occlumency was handy in that respect.
"By the by, did you see Neville on your way up?"
"Yes," Harry answered distractedly as he surveyed the set up of the room. "He was just a tick behind me, so he should be here any moment." And, timed to perfection, there was a knock at the door. Brethany opened it with a grin, then halted when she saw not one, but three teenagers at the door to her classroom.
"Ron? Dean?" Harry peered over his teacher's shoulder to see two of his roommates. "What are you two doing here?"
"Right, let's do this," the two intruders barreled into the room and stood confidently before visibly deflating. "Harry, mate, you know I can't dance worth pants," Ron spoke grumblingly.
"So you thought you'd come crash my dance lesson?"
"Sorry, mate," Dean apologized with a grin, "But where else are we going to learn how to dance? McGonagall?" There was a chorus of groans at that memory. Off to the sides, Brethany had to grin. Now there was an idea.
"All right, boys," she called out. Silence descended as the four teenage boys turned to look at her. "It's fine with me if you all want to learn." There was a mix of grins and scowls. "However, I need to go fetch a few things from my room, so if you would be so kind as to distract yourself for a few minutes?"
Brethany snagged Harry on her way to the door. "Don't kill them, aye?" She took his growl as confirmation and ran down the corridor towards the teachers' lounge. When she entered, there were only a few teachers present.
"Rolanda! Pomona!" The two women looked up at her voice. "Are you two busy? Of course you're not!" They were swept away in a whirlwind of energetic DADA teacher. "I have four teenage boys in my classroom, three of whom want to learn how to dance." Brethany laughed at the stupefied expressions on the women's faces. "Ron Weasley and Dean Thomas invited themselves to my dance lesson with Harry, so now I need a couple girls to be their partners."
"So now you've kidnapped us in order to provide dance partners for your intruders?" Hooch was amused; her golden eyes twinkled madly in a manner reminiscent of Dumbledore's.
"Exactly," the DADA teacher answered, grinning madly.
"I knew you were barmy, Brethany," Pomona Sprout huffed, trying her hardest to keep up with the two younger, taller women. "Who's the fourth boy, then?"
"Neville Longbottom."
"Ah," the Herbology teacher nodded in understanding. "That boy's a lovely dancer, and he's got barrels of patience. He's a good choice as an instructor." Brethany gave a 'hmm' in agreement as she pushed her classroom door open, only to view the boy with 'barrels of patience' slamming another boy upside the head with a textbook.
"Boys!" Caught between shock and laughter, Brethany shouted out to gain the fighters' attention. The tussle halted instantly, and the four hoodlums turned as one to face the three female teachers. "My word! I leave you four alone for five minutes and you start fighting." She tsked disapprovingly. "I won't take points from Gryffindor, but you will be volunteering to help clean this classroom after our lesson." They all looked ashamed except Harry, who managed an expression of lofty amusement, having participated in that 'punishment' many times that term.
"I'm s-sorry, Professor Lewis," Neville apologized sincerely. Dean and Ron echoed the sentiments, while Harry looked on with a grin. "What?" he asked, when the gazes of his dorm mates went to him. "Brethany knows it was just a scrap between mates. Besides, I help clean this room at least once a week anyhow."
"Yes, well, you're quickly approaching having to clean without magic, young man," the DADA teacher scolded teasingly. "Don't make me have you stand in the corner!"
"Ooh, not the corner! I'm so ashamed of myself; I'll never be bad again! Please, don't make me stand in the corner, Professor Lewis!" Eyebrows raised at the expression of pure mischief on Harry's face, an expression that had not been seen there in quite some time.
"If you're good, I won't," Brethany promised with a grin. "All right, I won't punish you with the corner. Your real punishment: you get to learn how to dance!" The boys stared at her, not at all amused. She turned to the other two women. "Do you know, I do believe they're not looking forward to this?"
"I do believe you're right, dear," Pomona Sprout agreed, laughing gently at the boys. "Not that I can blame them. I remember my own first dancing lessons well. Poor Monsieur Dasios! I must have trodden his toes with every step!" The three women chuckled, but the teenagers only became more apprehensive.
The group split up into couples: Brethany with Harry, Dean with Professor Sprout, and a blushing Ron with Madam Hooch. Neville scurried among the couples, directing the boys on where to put their hands, how to move their feet, and how to lead in general. Poor Ron had the worst luck; Hooch was not at all shy about telling him to grip harder, as his hand felt like it was going to slide down her body. The other boys were quite relieved to have tamer partners. The music, magically conjured up by Brethany's wand, changed tempo and rhythm every so often in order to teach the boys how to follow to the beat, though this concept mostly escaped them.
After half an hour of 'dancing', the group unanimously proclaimed it time for a break. The women seated themselves to nurse their toes and shins, and the boys conferred together for several minutes in furious whispers. When the music began again, Harry found himself left with the flying instructor, much to Brethany's amusement. The three couples whirled around the room in a relatively rhythmic manner as Neville supervised and corrected the boys' form. In the middle of a song, the door to the classroom opened and permitted the entrance of some faculty members.
"What in Merlin's name?" Minerva McGonagall watched the proceedings in amused consternation. Beside her, Flitwick squeaked with laughter as Dean failed spectacularly to steer Brethany into a spin.
"I'm afraid to ask," the little Charms teacher chuckled. "Another one of Brethany's little plans, I suppose, though I've no idea how she got Pomona and Rolanda in on it." They watched another moment. "Potter's rather a good dancer, when he has someone else leading." McGonagall snickered quietly in agreement.
The two continued to watch the lesson, unnoticed by the participants until Neville squeaked out, "Professor McGonagall! What- you- here- eep!" and the dancers stumbled to a halt.
"Oh, please, do not let us interrupt this fine display," Filius gestured. All four boys blushed brightly and Professor Sprout pinked slightly. Brethany and Rolanda exchanged entertained grins.
"Professors McGonagall, Flitwick," Harry greeted politely, regaining his composure with some small effort (a benefit of constant Occlumency). "We were just, er, just…" and his composure failed him as he looked to his friends for assistance.
"We were dancing, obviously," Ron spoke up boldly.
"Obviously," McGonagall repeated dryly. "I believe some practice is in order before it will become readily apparent what you are endeavoring to do." The boys winced slightly, but had to agree. "I'm certain that by the arrival of the Yule Ball your dancing abilities will be up to par," their Head of House deigned to reassure them. "Providing, of course, that you put as much effort into it as you put into Quidditch," she looked pointedly at Ron and Dean, "Or your extra-curricular studies," she looked at Harry with a lifted eyebrow.
"Yes, Ma'am," the boys chorused hurriedly.
"Hmph." McGonagall turned to the female dancers with a raised eyebrow.
"Don't look at me, Minerva," Hooch grinned. "This was all Brethany's idea. Not that I didn't appreciate the chance to practice dancing, mind you; I so seldom get to lead." Both Ron and Harry flushed when the flying instructor winked at them.
"Rolanda," Pomona scolded, "Stop that. You'll traumatize them." The professors shared a laugh at the expense of the embarrassed teenagers.
"All right, guys," Brethany took pity on the boys. "That's it for tonight. We'll meet Tuesday evening after supper. Bring your own dance partners, ok? Unless, of course, you want me to invite Madam Pince and Professor Trelawney?" She took in their expressions of horror and disgust. "I thought not. You four straighten up this room, and then you can leave." She turned to her two helpers. "Thank you, Rolanda, Pomona, for helping." The two women nodded in return and left, chuckling. "Minerva, Filius? Would you like tea in my office?"
Moments later, the three teachers were ensconced in Brethany's small office. "Quite the show, Brethany," Flitwick remarked in amusement as soon as they sat down. "I don't think I've ever seen Pomona move so sprightly."
"Yes, well, to avoid Mr. Weasley's overgrown feet," Minerva deduced dryly. Brethany laughed.
"So, what can I do for you two?" she asked brightly, curiosity dancing in her eyes. The two teachers exchanged glances, then simultaneously put their tea cups on the table. Flitwick cast a quick ward against any eavesdroppers, and McGonagall sent a locking spell at the door.
"Brethany," Minerva began, "What do you know about Mr. Potter's home situation?" The DADA teacher froze in her seat. What in Merlin's name…
"I know that he lives with muggles over the summer holidays," the younger woman spoke slowly, measuring her words carefully. "I know that his relatives dislike magic, and that his cousin is grossly favored over Harry." Brethany looked from one to the other. "Why?"
"I was informed by Miss Lovegood that Mr. Potter's family is…unpleasant," Filius squeaked slightly in discomfort. "Her insinuations were highly disturbing to me. When I took my concerns to the Headmaster, he seemed not to understand them; he disregarded any requests to investigate Mr. Potter's family."
"Filius then approached myself, and we compared notes," the Transfigurations professor spoke unhappily. "What we gathered was unsettling, to say the least."
Brethany frowned. "So now you have decided to approach me? Why?"
Minerva and Filius exchanged sly looks. "Because you are in a position to take Mr. Potter out from under his relatives' influence," the older woman explained. "You are his Occlumency guide; you are legally and magically permitted to act as his guardian until he comes of age."
Brethany sat back in her seat and surveyed her guests. "I am aware of the problems with the Dursleys. I have the situation under consideration, and will handle it appropriately. I think that is all you truly need to know at this point." She smiled at the small expressions of relief. "I know how difficult it is to go behind Albus' back; he's like my mother in that regard." Flitwick chuckled, and Minerva looked amused. "I will not involve either of you in deceiving him, as there is no need to." Their relief grew obviously. "I will take care of Harry as best as we can work out between the two of us."
All three teachers settled back in relief as the topic was summarily dropped. "So, Brethany," Filius began, "That was quite the little bombshell you dropped on the Order last week. I do believe Alastor was ready to have a fit." Brethany had to laugh. Yes, the Order had been quite surprised at her pronouncement.
-Flashback-
"I suppose it's my turn," Brethany finally spoke brightly. "Brethany Lewis, wandmaker, Legilimens, and well versed in both the Dark Arts and defense thereof; liaison to the American Aurors and the British vampires," there was a stir at this, "And," she paused, "To the American Unspeakables." Everyone froze in their seats, staring at her in shock. Unable to help herself, Brethany grinned and said, "Pleasure to meet you all." Chaos instantly broke out.
"You're an Unspeakable?" Brethany had to grin at their shock. "But you're too young!" "How did a British Witch become an American Unspeakable?" "How old were you?" "Why weren't we made aware of this?"
"Hey, people!" Brethany held up her hands in surrender. "Can I have some room to answer questions?" The room quieted. "Thank you. To answer the first question, no, I am not an Unspeakable." Voices rose once again, but she raised her hand to quiet them once again. "But I do have a standing invitation to join them. After I finished my second Mastery, I was approached for recruiting. I declined to join them at that time, partially because my power levels were heavily depleted, and partially because I had received an invitation from Albus to teach at Hogwarts. I needed time to restore my magic levels, and teaching seemed an ideal opportunity for that time, whereas working as an Unspeakable would very likely have made the problems worse." Various people looked disappointed at the bland explanation, but others appeared rather relieved.
"I was made aware that several close acquaintances of mine were Unspeakables; it is through them that I have direct access to much of the American Unspeakable network. I have permission to seek advice and information, if necessary, from those contacts. Albus has been dropping hints of Dark artifacts that are supplementing Voldemort's health," several surprised gazes swung towards the Headmaster, "And the Unspeakables are very knowledgeable in that particular area. If it is necessary, I will bring the Unspeakables in. If not, I will keep them alerted as to the general status of the war." Murmurs arose.
-End of flashback-
"You know you enjoyed the ruckus you caused," Minerva accused with an amused look.
"Guilty as charged," Brethany admitted, her eyes twinkling. "I simply couldn't resist." She grinned, then looked at the clock on the wall. "Well, I have scrolls to grade. My sixth years just turned in their twenty inches on an illegal curse of their choice. Miss Granger's will likely take me half the evening to finish reading. I hate overachievers, sometimes." Her fellow teachers grimaced in agreement.
Word Count: 2848