Disclaimer: I don't own Parvati Patil... (which sounds weird) Nor do I own Harry Potter and its associated characters.
Summary: Parvati is in her mid thirties, unmarried (extremely late for Witch standards), broken up with Blaise Zabini, used to work for Slughorn at the Wizarding University, now appointed to Charms teacher at Hogwarts. Who would have known? Maybe things are looking up? Then Lavender dies.
4. What the hell am I doing here?
When you're in Hogwarts you think that later in life you'll amount to something great. You're eleven, or ten for some, and starting out like a chick creeping from her mother's wings, eagerly blaring at the world, noticing for the first time that you have wings.
For some, especially the Muggle-born, this came with awe and wonder at everything. In some bad cases it would lead to megalomania, while equally bad on the other side of the spectrum, you would find a girl withered away and shy, deciding she would not use magic for the rest of her life. While those born of wizarding families tended to have a better retention of their members from falling out of magic, this was not always the case. Wizard born were also at risk of being born a Squib. But more importantly, wizard born were also at equal risk to get disillusioned of the world as any child.
If there's anything that I plan to do when I say I'm "going to be a responsible adult", it was generally in this vein of thought. The last thing on my mind is to make favourites, curry favors, and let the children feel that their destiny has been set at birth. No, Harry, we are not all born with a great big chip on our shoulders. And I suppose that while some of our classmates scorned you for your flamboyant adventures that you wailed about that you had not brought it upon yourself, others live their lives in mediocre dullness that pervades every facet of society.
If there's one thing I plan to do, I am not going to leave anyone behind.
"Miss Patil!"
Someone calling my name. Oh, right. I'm in Sprout's office.
"Oh, yes," I smile brightly. A few years working under Slughorn makes you force all sorts of fake smiles.
"I was telling Neville and yourself how the OWLs are important this year," Sprout is showing pretense of patience. This is not good. "The Ministry is considering setting up a new school up North, an international school with the help of our sister schools; we aim to pool our resources in this sordid economy to give some much needed vigor to the new generation."
"Of course, Ma'am," Neville has become quite the charm. He had been really stumpy as a boy. The least of the Gryffindor Five. That's what Lavender and I called them, ranking them each quarter. It was usually Dean or Harry at the top of the list with Neville or Ron at the bottom. But now with Seamus and Dean working the beat, I would place him on par with Ron and just behind Harry. He may be not as rich as Ron, but he certainly has the calm and dependable gravitas of a true Stud-
"Miss Patil!" Sprout pulls me out of my wool gathering again.
"OWLs!" I gasp. What was she talking about? Oh, yes. OWLs are important... because... International School. Damn.
The International school was another sign of how the Wizarding world, after centuries of seclusion, was emulating its Muggle counterpart. Once there was no need for all this talk of "efficiency" and "economy" and "aptitude". Even the poorest witch could eke out her existence in relative comfort, because Magic. But now with the influx of such effluence that required more and more high precision magic, magical commerce was becoming a thing of the next generation, with magical corporations hogging secrets to their product's manufacture. Magical corporations like the Weasley's and the Malfoy's have become the household name. While during my generation children dreamed of opening a joke shop, or traveling around the world to find mystical creatures, now they dream of taking on a steady job working for the Weasleys or getting a government appointment like becoming an Auror.
And why I'm here, of course. A professorship at Hogwarts. Who am I to complain?
"I want you to work extra hard on getting those OWLs up," Sprout demands. "Make sure that we raise our GPA, but more importantly I want significant Star Pupils applicable to the annual Tri-Wizard."
That's another thing. The Tri-Wizard. Once a grand event that marked a celebration of cooperation, now became an annual competition between schools where dozens of students competed for moderately achievable goals, and where Malfoy P & C and Weasley Muggleware competed to place a billboard on the sidelines.
"We're still a few years off for Albus Potter and Rose Weasley to join our ranks, but I'm sure that as friends of The-One-Who-Lived you would be well suited in molding the students into competent allies for these bright leaders of the future."
I vomit a little in my mouth.
Neville give off a small cough, reminding Sprout about something or another. "Professor, since Parvati's here, I want to discuss-"
"Do you think that's wise, Neville?" Sprout peers over her glasses at Neville. Then, as though making a 'decision' she turns to me, "You may leave us, Miss Patil."
Neville tries to say something, but I don't have time for his high minded designs even if it were offered on a silver platter. They can go make their grand schemes and designs all they want. I was going to see my Students.
I think I recognize a name or two from the sheet, but most of them are generally unfamiliar.
There is only one girl who garners all the attention in this school, and that is Victoire Weasley. It is impossible to miss her, being the first grandchild of the wealthiest wizard, and a daughter of the most beautiful witch I feel that my eyes are sucked towards her. I try not to stare.
Of course, I've met Victoire before, but I doubt she remembers me. She had posed for Teen Witch a few years ago when Blaise and I were still a thing, and Lavender invited us to a dinner party. None of the Weasley clan were there, but Victoire was scheduled for an appearance. Lee Jordan wanted to do a movie with her as his star, but despite his begging and pleading Bill said no. And Victoire had been then, and even now, modest, well mannered, highly gifted, bright, beautiful and popular as ever.
She looks at me respectfully, pertinent and calm. There is no know-it-all air, no haughtiness, no scorn about her lips. She is simply a student here, and she seems to mock my own apprehension.
"Welcome to Charms," I begin. There is no fanciful display of the Lockheart, no gravitas of Snape, no strictness of McGonagall. I am inviting everyone to come along. "I am Parvati Patil, and I will be leading you fifth year students through your OWLs this year."
At the mention of OWLs, a boy, whom I've memorized as Dave Wood, Oliver's boy, raised his hand.
"Professor," he looks handsome as his old man, but has a keener glint in his eyes. "I'm not aiming to get high marks on my OWLs. I have tryouts for the Manchester United wizarding junior branch this year. So, my trainer says that I need the extra time for practice as much as I can manage."
My smile remains fixed on my face. To deny him would embroil me in a lawsuit with Oliver Wood. Then again, I had a pep talk with Sprout this morning.
"We'll see what we can do-"
"I'm not being disrespectful, Professor," Dave interjects, "but I do have training, today."
"I'm sure if you put your time and effort any day of the-"
"My trainer's invited Victor Krum to give me pointers today, ma'am." I can see he's trying to be as polite as his eager young mind could possibly manage. "I have to be on the field by noon. I just wanted to tell you without being absent from class, ma'am."
With Dave gone, the class proceeds haphazardly. I had prepared a whole bunch of material for the students but it comes out in the wrong order.
"How is transfiguration different from charms?" I begin, but the students are impatient. They have already sized up their professor and I feel their lack of confidence in me slipping away rapidly.
I know it's basic Charms 101, but it's fundamental and important. Before I begin my rant of why Charms in important, Victoire raises her hand. I brought this one on myself, since I've opened it with a question.
"Transfiguration changes what is, charms changes what it does, Professor," Victoire is patient but her choice of words are brief in extreme.
"Yes, Victoire," I reply, trying to work that into my lecture, "that is the crux of it. Transfiguration-"
"Don't we get points, Professor?" a girl in the back, one Ginny Randall - Neil's daughter, I suppose, they've all begun taking names of the Trio - speaks up.
I got an earful on the points system from Sprout, the other day. Hand them out often, but not in large amounts, and by a sufficiently objective standard or I'll be hearing complaints from the parents.
"Two points for Gryffindor-" I try to smile.
"Girls or boys, ma'am?" Ginny Randall looks upset.
"Does it matter?" I immediately retort, but I regret it.
"Girls and boys are marked separately, Professor," Victoire tries to explain in a calm and patronizing tone, "at the end of the year, the House Banner may go to the house with the highest points, but we also receive a percentage boost in our Student Evaluation based on House and Dorm, ma'am."
I think I read about something like that a while ago, or perhaps it was one of the lengthy laundry list of instruction from Sprout.
I take a deep breath.
"This is for the House," I recover my composure. I am the teacher here. No, I am not going to resent the children for being children. Despite their calm and knowing demeanor, they are still students learning of the world. "What is the importance of a House, Ginny?"
"We are graded by the house, Professor," Ginny seems exasperated. She is so different from her namesake. Then again, half the boys are named as some variation of Harry.
"It's not about the Grades, Ginny. It tries to foster a person's inner character by surrounding one with those who would encourage those traits. All traits of the four houses are important. And to be a member of a house, means that the sorting hat has seen that it is important that a certain aspect of you grows to help you with your life. Your house members are your closest of friends-"
"It's not like you're close with the Weasley family, Professor Patil," Ginny is on full confrontational mode, I see.
"Ten points deducted from Gryffindor." I smile back, and add with a wink, "Girls only.'
The other Professors are huddled around Neville during lunch, though he does send a few furtive glances my way. I have to admit, I did suspect he had a thing for me when we were in school. Old flames are fickle and volatile. I ignore him and sit at the end of the table with Sybil.
"I heard you deducted a ten from Gryffindor," Sybil smiles as she settles down. She orders a Madame Spinnet's diet special. The food at the dining hall has changed to become 'optimized' to a student's needs. Alicia Spinnet went into the culinary business after her elbow injury and made headlines with how Hogwarts was 'poisoning' the students with unhealthy meals.
Now everything tastes like paper.
I shrug.
"Ten is big, Parvati," Sybil smiles, waving her arms before me. "I foresee a future in which you will be plagued by a flock of angry Gryffindor parents."
Sybil has found some humor in her later years, mostly making fun of herself.
"What's up with Neville?" The professors weren't eating much, which was understandable, but everyone was teeming in on what Neville had to say.
"Oh," Sybil frowns dismissively, "he says that there is some Dark Danger brewing in the underbelly of the Magical community. Something to do with the recent vandalism by the Neo-Death Eaters."
"But you're not buying it?' I grin, expectantly.
"If there was a new Dark Lord for the new Death Eaters, I would have predicted it," she shrugs.
Somehow that is not very reassuring.
Marauder's Maps are one thing that remains forbidden in Hogwarts to this day. Except to the faculty.
For the faculty, the WWW (no one seems to call them by their full name of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, anymore) has provided a highly advanced Marauder's Map XP for School and Academia, which color codes students, based on highly advanced rune algorithms. Sometimes it gets glitches and crashes into a Blue Mist of Death, but shaking it vigorously often works wonders.
Right now, I am creeping out of the School grounds for a well needed R&R.
Of course, as a faculty I can leave whenever I'm not on Night duty. But I just couldn't bare people seeing me smoke. So I eschew the common pubs, and find the spare key that Blaise gave me long ago.
His private offices are empty, but I see that Blaise has been here recently for a 'fix' as he calls it. He injects himself with Redoxomine, which calms the nerves and helps you go to sleep. I once told him that I would never use a Malfoy product, but he laughed and told me that Malfoys, unlike the Weasleys, never use their own name on their brands. They own several subsidiary Potions and Charms companies each bearing their own label, but are essentially all Draco's. Without my knowing, I was probably Malfoy's biggest customer just by smoking his cigarettes.
We sort of got each other out of our respective bad habits, back then. I nagged at him until he quit 'fixing himelf up', while he constantly charmed my cigarettes that they reeked of foulness beyond shit.
Then all hell broke loose. There never really is a happily ever after for the likes of us, is there?