AN: thank you to my reviewers, your kind words have encouraged me to continue with this little adventure in creative writing.

disclaimer: not JKR, just a happy fan that likes to explore her own version of the Wizarding world

Chapter 8

Amazingly enough, I didn't get lost on my way to the headmistress' office. My meeting with Macgonagle went as I expected it. She gave me more background information on the school. and she outlined the code of conduct for teachers and students. She asked me about my teaching experience,

and my career with the Bureau. We spent a good hour getting acquainted. I was also introduced to a few of the past headmasters whose portraits adorned the walls.

"So you're the American..." I heard a sneering voice come from one of the portraits, as I was being introduced to Dumbledore. It was a black haired man who was about my age (at least in the portrait) black eyed, and very long nosed.

"Severus Snape, this is Professor Glinda Goode, from Boston, Massachusetts, USA." Mcgonagle introduced us.

"Hello Headmaster Snape," I said, acknowledging the man in the painting.

"Hello," he answered, then he asked "why do you consider yourself fit to educate our students?"

I was a bit taken aback by the hostility in the former headmasters tone, but chose to answer the rude blot of paint anyway. "Because," I explained, trying not to sound too condescending, "I have been training young aurors in defensive magics for five years. Before that, I was in the field for fifteen years. I spent ten of those years in Special Operations. It was our job to go after predator wizards. Those are the dark wizards that choose to victimize children. I feel the best way to protect children is by teaching them how to protect themselves. I understand that the demise of Voldemort has made some brits a bit complacent but there's still monsters out there, Professor, I figure it's my job to make sure those monsters don't make victims out of these kids."

A few of the other portraits we applauding, and Snape didn't have anything to say. Macgonagle looked a bit surprised. "I think she'll do nicely," The portrait of Dumbledore said, and he winked at me.

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There was another ghost waiting for me when I got back to my office. It was a very young man, he couldn't have been more than sixteen, with a mop of curly blond hair and an innocent face. He was playing with my rat. "Hello there," I said to him.

"Blimy!" he shouted, obviously startled. "Professor Lupin was right, you can see me."

"Yes, I can. My name is Glinda."

"It's nice to meet you Miss Glinda, I'm...well... I was Colin. That's a really nice rat, what's his name."

"He doesn't have a name yet," I said, shaking my head. "Would you like to help me come up with one for him?" Britain's last Wizard War had a lot to answer for. This boy should've been allowed to grow up.

"Would I?" Colin asked. "I already have one, you want to know what it is?"

"Certainly, dazzle me with your skills at rat naming."

"He should be Pitch, cos he's black as pitch. What do you think?"

"It's a great name," I went over to the desk where I'd left the little guy in the collapsable cage that came in his box. I opened the door and gently pulled him out. He crawled up my arm and made himself at home on my shoulder. "Hello Pitch," I said as I gave his back a nice petting.

"Where'd you get him?" Colin the ghost, asked.

"He was a gift from a friend." I explained, "he came from the pet shop in Diagon Alley."

"Magical Menagerie?" He asked almost wistfully "I remember that place," he sat down on the desk, "I am so happy that you can see me, Miss Glinda, I mean all the other ghosts are right nice people and all, but being dead is bloody boring."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, I don't even have my camera with me. I just love taking pictures."

"Do you want to talk about what happened to you?" I asked him.

"Don't really remember it. I just know that I ended up here with the rest of the ghosts. I miss my family, though, specially my little brother. I hope he did all right for himself."

"Would you like me to see if I can find out?"

"You'd do that??? For me???"

"I'll see what I can do. No promises though."

"Thank you so much. His name is Dennis Creevey."

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The headmistress introduced me to my coworkers at dinner that evening. I'd bee seated between Neville and the potions master, who also happened to be the head of Slytherin. He and Neville were schoolmates, but from the impression I got, they were not boyhood friends. Theodore Nott kissed my hand when we were introduced, and spent dinner attempting to ooze charm at me.

"Professor Goode," he said to me as we dined on the lovely feast that the house elves had prepared for us, "what do you think of Hogwarts, so far?"

"It's quite impressive," I answered. "I think I can be quite happy here."

"Has anyone shown you the grounds? I must say the lake is lovely by moonlight."

"I take it, you consider yourself a tour guide?" I wasn't going anywhere with this man, I decided right away. He reminded me of a lizard. I thought it appropriate that he was the head of a house called Slytherin.

"I do know the grounds quite well, I explored them extensively when I was a student here, class of '98, by the way."

"1998?" I asked, "I was in china at the time. There were packs of gong-si wandering around Shanghai, attacking the local muggle population."

"Excuse me, Professor Goode," Hagrid asked, joining the conversation. "What's a gangsey?"

"Please call me Glinda, Hagrid. A 'gong-si' is a type of zombie that is native to china, traditionally they're created someone dies away from their home, or with out proper burial rituals. There was a gang calling itself the Crimson Serpent-lion, they used dark spells to create and control these zombies. The zombies themselves aren't to hard to dispatch, but we had a devil of a time rooting out the gang members. It turned out to be a bunch of kids that had been tricked by a pair of Hu-Hsien into causing all the damage."

"What's a Hoo-seen?"

"It's a chinese Fox demon, they're pretty easily dealt with once you know what you're after, but they can cause some damage before they're caught. They like to cause chaos for it's own sake."

"Sound like nasty little buggers," Neville commented.

"Yes," I agreed, "fortunately they pretty much stay in their own territory, and the Chinese wizards know how to deal with them."

"You've had some fascinating adventures, Glinda. I think that your experiences will be a great benefit to our students." Macgonagle stated.

"Thanks, Minerva," I answered. She'd asked me to use her first name after our afternoon interview.

We spent the rest of the evening chatting about our various experiences. The professors seemed to get along for the most part. I knew that I would get along with a few of them especially well. Theresa Huxtable, the transfiguration teacher, a tall black woman, somewhere in her thirties, sat on the other side of Nott, asked me if I wanted to go into Hogsmeade with her the next day. We were to joing Neville, the muggle studies professor who was a dark haired witch named Selena Haversham, and the charms professor Filius Flitwick, the shortest person I'd ever met, and one of the kindest hearted. I learned later that he was the deputy headmaster, and the head of Ravenclaw.

Both Neville and Nott offered to walk me back to my rooms after dinner. I accepted Neville's offer, and Nott followed us. The dropped me off at the door to my classroom, and as they walked away I heard Nott say to Neville "come on Mate, you've got a perfectly good wife at home. Be a sport here, it's not like she needs a watchdog."

"Don't be a wanker, Nott" I heard Neville say. "She'd hex you into next week."

Thank you, Neville. I though to myself as I headed up to my room. I changed into my favorite t-shirt and curled up with Pitch, and a muggle romance novel. I went to sleep thinking that this must be the most comfortable bed I'd ever slept in.