Chapter Seven: In Which Lily gets a New Teacher

"What do you think?" Lily asks, eyes bright and cheeks flushed. If Tairi didn't know better, she would've thought Lily had lugged all the books and cushions up to the seventh floor herself. As it is, the Room of Requirement is fully equipped to cope with any challenge.

Tairi has heard her father's reluctant story of why the place should be ruined, but somehow she's not surprised to find it's not.

Tairi scans the shelves, eyes resting on the spines of books she's either read or is meaning to read, on the pile of green cushions in the corner, the high ceiling, the Foe-Glass. True to her training, she doesn't let her eyes linger too long on the latter item. "It's perfect," she says, "But who's going to teach us?"

Lily, pleased at having her plan approved, just smiles mischievously. "You'll never guess," she promises.

"Are you sure they'll be up for it?" Tairi persists. "We're talking about nearly all Slytherin House, plus all those cousins of yours you co-opted. Good show, by the way."

Lily preens, unaccustomed to praise for her schemes. "They didn't need all that much convincing," she says modestly. "Be different if Dominique was still in school, of course."

"She hates me," Tairi agrees, almost absently. She doesn't much care what James's cousins think of her. Why should she?

Instead, she runs her hands over the books, thinking that it's a pity potions take such a long time to make. Not that long—some she could finish in less than an hour—but when you're fighting for life and/or limb, you usually need something faster.

"Do you think…?" Lily asks hesitantly after a while. Tairi raises her eyebrows. Since when does the indestructible Potter girl sound hesitant?

"Yeah?"

"Do you think we'll ever get Slytherin back?" Lily asks in a rush.

Tairi supposes she shouldn't be surprised; of course Lily has doubts, don't they all?

"If there's any justice in the world," she says. "Or maybe the next Dark Lord'll be a Gryff, then we're sure to get it back."

"That might be too late," protests Lily.

"And what would we do in the meantime, sit around and knit cunning sweater sets?" Tairi suggests, smiling. "When's your mystery teacher getting here?"

"Right about…" Lily grins, as the door handle turns. "Now."

"Er, hello, everyone," Neville Longbottom says nervously. He's been a teacher for some years now, has seen quite a few rowdy Weasley cousins, and then the less rowdy ones, who seem more on the tortured side, not to mention James Potter, but he has never confronted quite this many Slytherins at one time before.

Though he knows, because Lily, Harry, Hannah, Hermione, and even Dumbledore's portrait have told him, that this time it's Slytherin that's getting oppressed, he still can't quite forget that the parents and grandparents of most of these children were Death Eaters. How can he be sure they're trustworthy, that they will take what's theirs back if they can but nothing else?

On the other hand, Neville always thought History of Magic would've been interesting if Binns hadn't taught it, and if history teaches anything, it's that blaming the children will only turn them into their wicked parents faster.

So Neville takes a deep breath, and looks out on all the upturned faces. The polite, expectant silence, the dark eyes filled with anger, the green ties flung haphazardly around necks or knotted at waists or wrists…They look so solemn—and so young.

Lily's grinning at him, and it's her confidence in him that gives Neville the strength not to stutter. "I'm here to teach you all to defend yourselves," he says. "I know you're trying to get Slytherin reinstated, and I can't be a part of that—as Head of Gryffindor House, I think it's rather a conflict of interest." The older ones glare at that—too late, Neville remembers that he shouldn't encourage House rivalry. "Anyway, that's not the point. Tensions are running high right now, and that can be dangerous. This is strictly a Defense club—but I want you all not to say anything about it, since some people might object—and we've all had enough of trying to explain Hogwarts, I think. Okay?"

He waits, breathless, wondering if he should suggest they all write their names down and curse the parchment like Hermione did back in fifth year, or whether, as Slytherins, they already have some similar method of keeping House secrets.

Apparently, Albus has had the same thought. "Maybe we should all write our names, with Slytherin's Army at the top, you know, so we know who we all are?" he suggests, sounding a bit nervous.

"No way," protests Roxane. "That was how Dad and Uncle Harry and everyone got caught, remember?"

"Actually," Lily speaks up. "I was thinking: instead of writing our own names, how about we each write the name of someone who's conspiring against us. That way, if the list is found, we won't get in trouble."

"And it'll give everyone a chance to think about their personal enemies," Magnus Yaxley says approvingly.

The other Slytherins are nodding, too, and almost all of them have a menacing gleam in their eyes. Neville shivers, wondering if he's really doing the right thing. These children can't all have personal enemies already, can they?

"Professor Longbottom," Luther Dagworth asks. "Do you think you could possibly get us a list of all the people who voted for Abolition?"

"We should research their financial backers," says Scorpius Malfoy. "Politicians never do anything unless there's a lot of money involved."

Soon they're all talking excitedly, hatching plans and pondering research. They're quite ambitious in their choice of enemies, too, although there are a few who go for the classic rivalries. Tyler Higgins 'calls' Rich Hamilton right away. "You don't understand; I have to room with that git!" he says bitterly.

"Now, let's be clear," Neville says finally, rather doubting his words will do any good but unable not to say them. "I'm teaching you to protect yourselves, not try and get some petty revenge."

"Petty?" Tairi Malfoy says coldly. Lily's glaring at him too, Neville realizes. He gulps.

"Right," says Luther slowly. "Revenge. A…no-no."

The others alternately roll their eyes at their professor's naïveté, mouth names of their enemies like curses, or pretend the whole scene is boring them to tears. Somehow, Neville is not reassured.

"How do you feel?" Grandfather asks. His voice is tender enough, but Anne du Winters knows she won't even get a hug, after days and interminable days in St. Mungo's. She's not sure how long she was there in actual fact: a week, two weeks? Three? But it feels like forever.

"Tired," she replies, which is true enough. She slumps down into her favorite chair at the kitchen table, and reaches for a cereal box.

"Ready to go back to school?"

Maybe it's the exhaustion, maybe a stray bit of the curse left over, but Anne tells the whole truth, this time. She won't dance around the subject anymore. What's the point?

"I don't know if I'll ever really be ready to go back to that Godric-forsaken place," she says. "Or at least, I'll have a hard time leaving my dorm, where the moderately sane people are still a majority—or they were back before Halloween. Who knows what's happened by now?"

"You don't feel safe there? Perhaps I should speak to Professor Beaumont—" Grandfather looks mildly concerned. He's even put his Daily Prophet down.

"No," Anne sighs. "She can't do anything. It'll only stop if the Slytherins get their House back. Hogwarts is like a war zone, Grandfather. If only they'd get rid of all the Houses, that might actually do some good."

"Are you sure? Slytherin has long been considered the epicenter of disaster in the Wizarding world, you know."

Anne shrugs, and takes a bite of cereal. She talks with her mouth full. "Whoe'er thinks dat doesn't know the Gryffindors wery well." She swallows. "And it's not very fair, just getting rid of one. I figure people could just have a lottery or something, to decide who's sleeping in which dormitories. And the Quidditch teams could rotate, so the system was actually based on giving everyone the chance to play, instead of all that nepotism—do you realize James Potter, Dominique Weasley, Louis Weasley, Molly Weasley, and Fred Weasley were all on the Quidditch team 'til the eldest three graduated? It's still a pretty Weasley-heavy team. And instead of four Heads of House, we could have different faculty advisors, like whoever you got along with. It'd cut down on the amount of work per teacher, too." She pauses to drink some juice, and notices her Grandfather watching her.

He looks, she decides with some surprise, rather stricken.

"I never meant—" he chokes out. "That is, I—your safety is more important to me than any of this nonsense—I'm so sorry—"

"Grandfather?" Anne says hesitantly, a little confused. She gets up and pats him awkwardly on the back. "I'm okay, really," she assures him. "I'm exaggerating, I'm not really in fear of my life or anything—it's not like this is some kind of war—and I'm going to leave my dormitory, of course I am, I'll have to go to class, won't I? If I missed Transfiguration, Professor Parkinson-Bulstrode'd send Hufflepuff's House points below zero, and I owe my friends better than that—forget what I said, okay? I'm fine, everything's fine—"

"No," says Grandfather darkly, "It's not."

Grandfather brings her to the gates of the castle by Side-Along Apparition, and then they stand there for several long minutes in the cold November air, not saying anything.

"I'm going to make this right," Grandfather's voice is abrupt and loud. But he adds, under his breath, "If I can." Anne hears. "Have a good rest of term, sweetheart," he says, giving her a brief, stiff hug.

"I'll try," says Anne bravely. "I love you, Grandfather."

Dear Harry,

Hannah and I are certainly still coming to Christmas dinner. I may be a Hogwarts professor who takes his duties seriously, but I have a family, too. Daisy can't wait to see you again; I think she's got a bit of a case of hero-worship.

As far as your other concern…I feel it would be inappropriate to discuss my own views on such a controversial and personal topic, but I am, as always, certainly doing my best to look after the children in my care, including your daughter.

As her professor, however, I can't discuss with you any of her affairs not pertaining directly to Herbology and her progress therein. I'm sorry, but it's really only fair to the students.

On the other hand, I think I may say that I have the…situation temporarily under control.

If you have any further concerns about Lily or Albus, you are of course free to owl me.

Yours,

Neville

P.S. If it means anything to you, Professor Dumbledore says wars are often followed by a strong cultural backlash, and that warriors seldom retreat from any sort of fight.

Cryptic, isn't he? Brilliant, of course.

N