Chapter 2: Wake Me up When September Ends

"As my memory rests
but never forgets what I lost
wake me up when September ends

Summer has come and passed
the innocent can never last
wake me up when September ends"

-"Wake Me up When September Ends" by Green Day

XXXX

September 1, 2001: Willow tumbled clumsily out of the fireplace into the headmaster's office. She quickly picked herself up and brushed the soot off of her khaki pants and lilac sweater, glancing around the room as she did so. The room was circular and very cozy, filled with shelves full of books, comfy armchairs, an empty gold bird perch, and various strange, silver instruments. The room was dominated by a large wooden desk set in front of a wall full of dozens upon dozens of wizarding portraits of what Willow assumed were the headmasters and headmistresses of the past. She couldn't help but stare in awe as they scrutinized her.

"You must be Willow Rosenberg," said a kind voice from behind her.

Startled, Willow whirled around to see a woman somewhere between ten and fifteen years older than her. She wore her chocolate brown hair in a bob and her amused eyes were the color of cinnamon. "Hey, hi," said Willow, blushing. "Yes, that's me—er, Willow, that is. Willow is me er, I-I mean, I'm Willow. Nice to meet you," she said, holding out her hand to the older witch.

"Charity Burbage," said the fair-skinned woman, shaking Willow's offered hand. "I'm the Muggle Studies professor."

"Oh! So you teach kids about the non-magical world?" said Willow. "That's so neat!"

"Did you take Muggle Studies?" asked Charity.

"No," said Willow, shaking her head, "but I grew up all muggle till I was sixteen and I didn't start practicing magic till I was eighteen."

"So you didn't go to Salem, then?" said Charity in disbelief.

"Salem?"

"The Salem Institute for Witchcraft and Wizardry," clarified Charity. "They have branches all across the United States."

"Oh, nope," said Willow. "I went to a normal—well, mostly normal—muggle high school."

"Mostly normal?"

"It's a long story."

"Of course it is," muttered Charity. She glanced over at one of the strange silver instruments sitting on the headmaster's desk and said, "Well, we'd best be going now. I still need to give you an abridged tour of Hogwarts and show you your rooms before the welcome feast this evening."

"It'll really take that long?" asked Willow; it was only nine in the morning.

"The school is enormous, Willow," explained Charity, "and we're having the feast a bit earlier than normal this year."

"That's good," said Willow, sighing in relief.

"Oh? Busy tonight, are you?"

"Yeah," replied Willow. "My boyfriend is busy tonight and we're staying at the Three Broomsticks till we can find a house in Hogsmeade, so we don't have anyone to watch our daughter tonight. Hence the me being busy. Don't worry, the headmaster knows all about it."

"Well, then," said Charity, "let's get going, shall we?"

"Lead on Macduff!"

XXXX

"…and up there is the Astronomy Tower," said Charity, pointing to a large, wooden door which was propped open enough for Willow to see a set of tall, winding stairs leading up, up, up and out of sight. "It's a favorite snogging spot amongst the students, especially for fifth years and higher."

Willow giggled. "Sounds like the janitor closets at Sunnydale High."

Charity smiled. "Quite," she said. "Well, I think now is a good time to show you to your rooms. We'll just have a small snack to tide us over until the feast and I'll tell you everything you need to know about certain students of ours."

"Sounds like a plan," said Willow.

"Follow me, please." Willow complied, following the older witch down the long, open hallways, down several flights of stairs, and past various empty classrooms.

XXXX

The two women sat in Willow's green and gold sitting room sipping their tea. "So," began Willow, "you were going to give me the 4-1-1 on the students, right?"

"4-1-1?" asked Charity.

"Yeah, 4-1-1. You know: lowdown, info, what's the what—"

"Oh, 4-1-1, right."

"Well?" said Willow, quirking an eyebrow.

"Okay, well first off you need to know about the Head Boy and Girl," explained Charity. "They are always seventh years, they get a lot of extra privileges, and they're allowed to give and take points and assign detentions as they see fit."

"So they're kinda like me?" asked Willow.

"But with fewer powers and privileges."

"Ah."

"Yes. This year's Head Boy and Girl are both Gryffindors—you do know what Gryffindor is, right?"

"Yeah; Albus made with the splainy earlier this summer."

"Good," said Charity, sounding relieved. "That's one less thing for me to explain. Anyway, this year's Head Boy is Percy Weasley and the Head Girl is Cameron O'Neeson."

"Percy Weasley and Cameron O'Neeson are Head Boy and Girl. Got it," said Willow.

"Good. Now, next up we have prefects. There are two per house—one boy and one girl—for fifth year and up—so that's two for fifth year, two for sixth year, and two for seventh year. Got that?"

"There're six prefects per house. Got it."

"Now, prefects have less power and privileges than the Head Boy and Girl. They can award and remove points, but they are not allowed to personally assign detentions, only recommend so to a teacher or the Head Boy and Girl."

"Prefects have less power and can't assign detention, got it," said Willow.

"Good. Now, here's a list of all the prefects and their houses and years. Don't worry about memorizing it or anything; you'll get to know a lot of the students pretty well this year, trust me. Besides, the prefects will be the ones walking around with a shiny badge with a 'P' on it pinned to their chests. Just don't let the Quidditch captains convince you that they can dole out points and detentions because they can't. Roger Davies and Marcus Flint are especially bad about that."

"Shiny 'P' badges for prefects and quidditch captains can't hand out points or detentions. Got it."

"Good. Now, I could tell you about the professors, but there's a staff meeting tomorrow morning to take care of that for me."

"There is?"

"Yes. Usually it's after the Welcome Feast, but the Headmaster had to make some adjustments to accommodate certain professors' needs this year."

"Is it because of me?" asked Willow in a small voice.

"No," Charity assured her. "Well, not completely anyway."

"Oh good."

"Right. Well, on to which students you should look out for and which ones have special needs that you should be aware of."

"Is it a long list?"

Charity couldn't help but laugh. "Sadly enough, yes," she said. "Now, why don't we start with our 'special needs' kids."

"What exactly do you mean by 'special needs' kids?" asked Willow.

"It's nothing debilitating," Charity explained. "They just have a certain…condition, let's call it, that requires special attention."

"Oh, okay then."

"Right. Well, first off, you should know that this year we have a teacher that shares this condition, so it should be a bit simpler to handle—it's the Defense professor who shares it, oddly enough."

"Does this condition have a name?" asked Willow.

Charity paused for dramatic effect before speaking a single word, her voice a low whisper. "Lycanthropy."

Willow burst into laughter and dropped her cup, which shattered on the coffee table. "I-I'm sorry," she gasped, still consumed by laughter. "I-I know it's no la-laughing matter—"

"I should hope not," huffed Charity.

"I-I know," gasped Willow, "it's just that m-my b-boyfriend's a w-werewolf too!"

Charity blinked once. Twice. Then she too burst into uncontrollable laughter. "Dear sweet Merlin," she gasped, "if that isn't the biggest coincidence, then I don't know what is!"

"Tell me about it!"

It took a good five minutes for the two women to calm down enough to continue their conversation. "Anyway," continued Charity, taking a calming breath, "the new Defense professor Remus Lupin—you'll be working with him—is, in fact, a werewolf, as are two sixth year Gryffindor girls—twins, Callista and Cleopatra Lupin."

"Any relation to the professor?" asked Willow.

"As a matter of fact, yes," said Charity. "They're his twin daughters."

"Huh," said Willow. "So lycanthropy can be hereditary. I was wondering about that."

"Yes, it can, apparently," said Charity. "I don't really know how it works—I'm hardly an expert on the subject—but I'm fairly certain it's a fifty/fifty chance. I mean, Calli and Cleo are werewolves, but their older and younger half-siblings by their father aren't—the ones that are in school anyway. I've heard rumors they have a younger half-brother who is as well, but he won't be starting Hogwarts for another couple of years."

"Hm. I guess Oz and I got lucky with our daughter then," said Willow.

"You have a daughter? This is the second time you've mentioned her."

Willow smiled brightly. "Oh yes," she said. "Her name is Lily Willow and she just turned a year old last week. She's just the cutest thing ever! She…" And Willow was off, gushing over her precious baby girl. Charity and Willow spent the remainder of the afternoon chatting about Lily (Willow) and giving warnings and important information about the students (Charity).

XXXX

The teachers were beginning to assemble in the Great Hall in preparation for the students' arrival. As they took their places at the head table, Charity took the time to point out who was who to Willow. "That's Septima Vector, the Arithmancy professor," said Charity, pointing to an elegant, middle-aged witch who wore her raven-black hair in a loose bun. She then pointed to a grumpy-looking, unkempt man holding a rather ugly cat and said, "That's Argus Filch, the caretaker, and his cat Mrs. Norris and that's Sybill Trelawney, the Divination professor," she pointed to a strange-looking woman whose large glasses gave her an insect-like quality. She wore far too many shawls and beads and Willow could smell the incense from across the room. "I'd avoid her if I were you. She's a bit of a loon and she loves predicting people's gruesome deaths."

"Avoid Professor Trelawney, got it," said Willow, nodding her head in understanding.

"Right. Oh, that's Filius Flitwick, our Charms professor," said Charity, pointing to a tiny, cheerful, white-haired man. "He's also head of Ravenclaw and he directs the Hogwarts Choir."

"He's so little!" squealed Willow.

"The rumor is he's part goblin, but he's never confirmed it personally—he's never denied it either."

Willow tilted her head thoughtfully. "I can see it."

"Most think so. Oh! There's Pomona Sprout," she said, waving to a cheerful, rosy-cheeked witch whose flyaway grey hair poked out from under her sunny-yellow witch's hat. "She's the Herbology professor and head of Hufflepuff—my old house. She's such a sweet lady. Oh, that sinister-looking witch over there is, appropriately enough, Aurora Sinistra, the Astronomy teacher." She pointed to a tall, stately witch who wore her golden-blonde hair in a simple braid that framed her severe, yet classically beautiful face. "She's a former Slytherin, if you can't tell from the 'I'm better than you' look on her face."

"I had wondered if I'd offended her somehow," said Willow.

"No, she's just your typical pureblood Slytherin. Oh, that elderly witch there, that's Mrs. Franciszka Siatkowski, the professor of Foreign Wizarding Culture Studies," Charity said, bowing her head politely to the elderly, white-haired Polish witch. Professor Siatkowski returned her greeting regally. "Professor Siatkowski is retiring after this year," Charity added softly so that only Willow could hear. "She told me that she wants to spend her remaining time with her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren."

"Is she sick?" asked Willow.

"No," said Charity, "she's just getting on in years and most of her family lives outside the U.K."

"Oh. Well, I guess that makes sense, then."

"Indeed. Oh, look," said Charity, blushing and smiling at a young man with thick, curly, chestnut brown hair and bright green-blue eyes who had just walked into the Great Hall, "there's Ben Newton. He's the Ancient Runes professor.
"Someone's got a cru-ush".

"Shush you," said Charity, blushing an even deeper red.

"I'm totally right," said Willow. "You likey Professor Newton, Charity."

"Willow! Shush or he'll hear you!" squeaked Charity, still blushing like mad.

"So," said Willow, "how long have you been crushing on Professor Hotty there?"

"Since I started teaching here three years ago," Charity admitted.

"Girl, you gotta get a move on!"

"Oh look, there's Rolanda Hooch," said Charity, diverting to a safer topic as a short witch with cropped, spiky, grey hair and yellow, hawk-like eyes sat down. "She's the flying instructor."

"You're not getting off that easy, missy," warned Willow.

"And there's Irma Pince, the librarian," continued Charity, ignoring Willow in favor of the older, no-nonsense woman who had just sat herself down beside Argus Filch. "She's quite strict, Madam Pince. Oh, and there's Cuthbert Binns," she said, pointing to the only ghost teacher. "He dedicated his life to teaching as well as his un-life. Apparently he went to sleep in his favorite armchair one night and by the next morning he was dead, but he simply left his body behind and continued teaching."

"Does he even know he's dead?" asked Willow in wonder.

"Sometimes we wonder," replied Charity. "He just keeps going on as if nothing has changed."

"Weird."

"Indeed. Oh, that's Snape," said Charity, her voice fighting to stay neutral as a tall, thin, vampire-pale man in billowing black robes swooped into the Hall. He sneered at the room in general from behind his curtain of shoulder-length, greasy black hair. He had cold, black eyes and an overlarge beak of a nose, which created an overall unsettling combination.

"Who is he?" asked Willow.

"Professor Severus Snape," replied Charity, "potions master extraordinaire, head of Slytherin, resident bat of the Hogwarts dungeons, dark arts aficionado, and all around greasy git."

"I take it you don't like him very much."

"Most people don't," replied Charity. "He tends to have that effect on people. The only people who actually like him are the Headmaster and a few of Snape's fellow Snakes."

"Snakes?"

"It's another name for the Slytherins. Gryffindors are Lions or Gryffs; Ravenclaws are Ravens or Claws; Hufflepuffs are Badgers, Puffs, or Puffles; and Slytherins are Snakes."

"Cause of the house mascots and their names?"

"Exactly."

Willow looked up and down the nearly full head table. "Is this all the teachers? Wait, Professor Dumbledore's missing and I don't remember you pointing out the Defense teacher...Is anyone else missing?"

Charity glanced around. "Besides Dumbledore and Lupin, it looks like we're missing McGonagall and Pomfrey. Professor Minerva McGonagall is the Transfiguration professor, head of Gryffindor, and Deputy Headmistress. Madam Poppy Pomfrey is the school's mediwitch. She can be a bit overbearing when it comes to her patients, but she's excellent at her job. Oh, and Hagrid appears to missing as well—Rubeus Hagrid. Have you met him?"

"Oh yes; he took me to Diagon Alley this summer," replied Willow. "He's a sweetie."

"Yes, he is, isn't he? He's the groundskeeper—officially 'Keeper of the Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts'—and this year Dumbledore offered him the Care of Magical Creatures post. He accepted, naturally."

"Oh, how wonderful!" exclaimed Willow. "I'll bet he's so happy!"

"He's ecstatic," Charity said with a smile. "I almost pity his students though…"

"Why?"

"How shall I put this—Hagrid's definition of a 'dangerous creature' isn't exactly the same as everyone else's."

"What do you mean?" asked Willow.

"Well, he's always wanted a dragon for a pet, for one. Rumor has it he tried to raise one in his wooden cabin two years ago."

"Oh."

"Exactly."

"Ah, Willow dear! So good to see you've arrived safely!" Startled, Willow looked up to see Dumbledore, blue eyes twinkling merrily (almost maniacally so), standing in front of her. He was resplendent in royal purple robes with…

"Are those pink elephants singing karaoke?"

"Why yes," said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling merrily (maniacally) behind his half-moon glasses. "They were a back-to-school gift from my dear friend Stanley. Do you like them?"

"They're very…"

"Loud?" suggested Charity, arching an eyebrow.

"I was gonna say colorful, but I guess loud works too," said Willow, smiling nervously at Dumbledore.

"Sweet Morgana, Albus," said Professor Siatkowski from her seat two down from Charity, "did my fool grandson really give those to you?"

"I rather like them, Franciszka; Stanley has excellent taste," said Dumbledore, almost pouting.

"Th-they're very…cheerful," offered Willow.

"Hm, of course they are, child," said Professor Siatkowski. "Stanley would never give Albus anything less. That doesn't make him any less of a fool."

"I'll be sure to pass on your felicitations to Stanley over our Tuesday tea, then," said Dumbledore.

"Be sure that you do that, Albus," said Professor Siatkowski. "And do tell that boy to come see his grandmother while he's here. It's been far too long since I've seen him or that delightful daughter of his."

The conversation was cut off suddenly by a new Scottish-accented voice. "Albus, there's been a spot of trouble on the train." Willow looked over to the main doors of the Great Hall and saw a tall, stern woman walking toward the staff table. Her black hair was drawn back in a severe bun and she was wearing square spectacles. This was not someone Willow wanted to mess with; she meant business.

"Professor McGonagall," Charity muttered to Willow, who nodded in understanding.

"What happened, Minerva?" asked Dumbledore.

"Remus Lupin sent an owl alerting me that dementors had boarded the train not ten minutes ago. He was able to drive them off—thank Merlin—and no one was seriously hurt. However, it seems as though Harry Potter had a rather severe reaction."

Dumbledore raised one bushy, white eyebrow. "What happened?" he asked.

"He fainted."

Dumbledore's eyes sparkled with humor. "I'm sure he loved that."

"With your permission, Albus," said McGonagall, "I'd like to hold him back before the feast so that Poppy can look him over and make sure that he is well."

Dumbledore nodded his acquiescence. "Of course, Minerva, whatever you think is best. He is in your House, after all."

McGonagall nodded stiffly. "I shall go retrieve the Sorting Hat now and prepare for the ceremony. The train will be here in about five minutes, Albus."

"Thank you Minerva," said Dumbledore. McGonagall nodded and left the Great Hall, moving with an almost feline grace.

"Well staff," said Dumbledore, turning back to the Head table and clapping his hands together, "it seems as though the start-of-term feast is almost upon us. Do carry on with you conversations." As Dumbledore made his way to the throne-like chair at the center of the table (situated between Franciszca Siatkowski and an empty seat that belonged to Minerva McGonagall) the chatter started up again.

XXXX

"Willow Rosenberg?"

Willow looked up from her conversation with Charity to find the empty seat on her other side filled by a tall, thin man with tired, amber eyes that were sparkling with joy. He had longish, floppy, sandy colored hair that was streaked with grey. She couldn't help but notice the large, prominent scar that ran across his young face from just below his right eye and across his nose before ending at the bottom of his left cheek near his strong jaw. He wore shabby, patched robes, but despite his overall appearance he looked very kind and rather young—not much more than a decade older than herself, she estimated.

"I'm Willow," said Willow, smiling up at him, unperturbed by the man's worn-down, shabby appearance.

"I'm Remus Lupin, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor," he said, holding out his hand for her to shake.

Willow took it. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Lupin. I look forward to working with you this year."

"And I you, Miss Rosenberg," Remus replied with a tired, but kind smile.

"Please call me Willow," she said, returning the kind man's smile.

"Then you must call me Remus, Willow." He bowed to her in his seat.

Willow laughed. "You're either a complete gentleman or a total flirt, Remus Lupin," she teased.

Remus smiled a mischievous smile. "I've been told I can be a bit of both, really," he teased back.

"Hey, I've got a boyfriend mister."

"And I'm sure he's a lucky bloke, to have captured the heart of a beauty such as yourself."

Willow blushed bright red. "You, Remus whatever-your-middle-name-is Lupin, are a-a smooth talker, a-a flirt, and a-a closet prankster, I bet!"

Remus smirked and bowed his acquiescence. "But of course, fair Willow. Tis my nature."

"I like you," laughed Willow, smiling at Remus.

"I'm glad milady approves," said Remus, grinning back. "I do believe that you and I shall get along famously, Willow."