The next week began predictably enough, everyone having settled into the rhythm of the school term. The first set of assignments were beginning to trickle back to the teachers and as a consequence, tables piled high with scrolls of parchment were beginning to become a familiar sight in the staffroom.

Pretty much everyone taking Muggle Studies was enjoying themselves, much to Amelia's delight, which unfortunately meant that they'd put more than usual into their first batch of homework. While she was greatly impressed by this effort, she found herself beginning to wish that her students would stick to the page limit.

Hermione had quickly reached the conclusion that Divination was a complete waste of her time and spent a good amount of Monday lunchtime in Amelia's office, alternating between impersonating Sybill Trelawney and fuming about Snape's latest attacks on Neville. The story of the Boggart had apparently not been to the older wizard's taste, so he was taking every opportunity to bully Neville; one advantage of his fury from Amelia's point of view, was that he immediately vacated a room whenever Lupin entered it. The two of them had made great use of this the previous evening and had successfully chased the Potions Master around the castle in a delightful fit of childishness.

Hermione was regaling her cousin with an energetic impression of Sybill sighting the Grim when Remus wandered in. Once he'd informed her that Harry and Ron were looking for her she hurried off, rather embarrassed. The two adults managed to contain their mirth until the office door had snapped closed, but then they roared with laughter.

When they'd pulled themselves together Remus pulled up a chair, saying "I take it that Miss Granger has a healthy respect for Sybill."

Amelia rolled her eyes. "They've certainly got on the wrong side of each other. I believe Sybill insulted book learning almost as soon as they sat down."

"Ah. Well no wonder Hermione can't stand her, I should have guessed…" he chuckled.

"I take it that you were less than impressed with the subject in your own third year?"

"It just seemed unscientific," he said, shrugging. "Of course, it wasn't Sybill back then, it was Professor Nottage; he was pretty good as a seer, but a bloody awful teacher. He used to talk in such a soft voice, and at such a length, that none of us ever managed to get anything done in class, which more or less trebled our homework."

"We had one of those in year seven – sorry, first year – for Geography. I more or less memorised the textbook that year… colouring the maps in when he wasn't paying attention was quite fun though."

Remus chortled. "I hear that Sybill has a practice of killing off one student a year… possibly in the hopes of one day being proved right. Minerva was livid."

"Hermione was pretty steamed, too," she agreed. "She picked on Harry this year."

"What?" cried Remus, standing suddenly.

"What on Earth's the matter?" she asked in mild alarm.

"It's just – Black, he's been sighted nearby, and with a prediction like that – you know the Ministry thinks he's after Harry –" he was becoming increasingly agitated.

"But it's Sybill!" she cut in, anxiously. "According to Poppy, she's predicted the death of one child every year since she got here, and every one of them is in perfect health!"

"Yes, but with Black on the loose – well, she may be right – Harry could be in danger!" he was pacing the room now, his long strides making quick work of the limited floor space.

Amelia held his arm, halting his progress.

"The only thing Harry is in danger of right now is dying of natural causes," she bridled a little under his incredulous gaze. "Oh, look! If Sybill waits long enough she's bound to be right eventually. There's no real reason to suppose that Black has business with Harry or anyone else at Hogwarts, no matter what the Ministry say." Although she sounded confident, Arthur's words sprung unhelpfully to mind 'He's at Hogwarts…'

Remus turned to look at her then, and she saw real fear in his eyes.

"Is there?" she demanded.

"Well…"

Amelia felt her demeanour cascade from incredulity to concern.

"Look, Hermione and Ron look out for him; if someone's going after Harry I can't see either one of them stepping aside to let him through."

They sat back down, closer to the fire; it seemed to Mel that in the firelight her scruffy Professor had aged suddenly.

"Sirius Black was a big supporter of Lord Voldemort," he began, quietly. "You know of Harry's claim to fame, I assume? It's only natural to assume that Black would want to kill the person who, to all intents and purposes, destroyed his master.

"They say that when Black was caught," he continued, slowly, and it seemed that the words wounded him a little, "he was laughing. He'd just murdered thirteen people and blown a residential street apart. He was fairly deranged when they took him to Azkaban, I can only imagine what twelve years in that place did for his handle on reality."

He shuddered, and they were quiet for a moment, Amelia struggling to imagine the possibility of being able to go madder than a giggling mass murderer; Remus was apparently lost in his own thoughts.

"That's not the worst of it you know," he said darkly, a shadow having clouded his already sombre features. "The night that Harry's parents were killed, they had been hiding from Lord Voldemort for some time. Black served them up to him on a platter. If he hadn't, well… they may have been here now." And Harry and I wouldn't be alone, he thought, bitterly.

"They'd been school friends, you see, and James and Lily trusted him completely."

Amelia realised that her hands were pressed against her cheeks and quickly removed them, leaving faint white fingerprints on her skin.

"Remus… that's awful – there are no words…"

"And now, with Black being sighted so close to Hogwarts and Sybill's prediction."

They looked at each other for a moment in the flickering firelight.

"I don't think we should make too much of it…" Amelia began slowly, as Remus's eyebrows arched skywards. "The school is surrounded by Dementors, drenched in protective magic and full of talented witches and wizards – even if he did come for Harry, he'd be caught before he crossed the entrance courtyard."

"He's eluded Dementors before…" retorted Remus, apparently determined to cling to his discomfort. Amelia lost her temper.

"Oh for Gods' sake Remus, it was just a cup of tea! My primary school teacher could make better predictions than that old fraud!" she snapped, exasperated. She stood up abruptly and walked back to her desk. "Anyway, don't you have class in a few minutes?" she demanded.

"I do actually," he said, somewhat meekly. Her expression softened a little.

"Look, I'm sorry. Black is a real threat, but Harry is well protected here, and I don't think we should allow some false prophesy go to our heads – particularly when by all accounts Harry isn't letting it go to his."

His features softened.

"You're probably right… though I may speak to him – just to see how he's doing!" he added, seeing her dander rise again. "I was good friends with his parents; I owe it to them to see he's alright."

Seeing that Amelia still looked dubious he decided to lighten the mood. With an altogether too calculated air of innocence he added, "It'll just be a cup of tea," and retreated at top speed, narrowly avoiding the cushion that rebounded off the wall next to his head.

0o0o0o0

Having marked her fifth-year students' initial project plans, including an uncharacteristically thorough example from the Weasley twins, Amelia headed down to the staffroom, passing a cloud of angry Snape as she did so, his cloak billowing out behind him.

She watched him stalk down the corridor in bemusement before shaking her head and entering the staffroom; it was as if every stone in the building had insulted his mother.

Poppy Pomfrey was occupying a chair near to the newly Boggart-free wardrobe and was doing her level best not to meet the eyes of Professor Dockrill, who was ostensibly hiding behind his own beard. The room's only other occupant hadn't noticed Amelia come in.

Sybill Trelawney, as draped with amulets and shawls as before, was stood in the middle of the room, muttering to herself in confusion.

"I can't imagine what it was I said… perhaps his star is in the wrong quarter, after all Saturn is rising this week… I've told him I've seen it, but he just won't –"

Poppy, sensing a chance for escape stood, and with as straight a face as she could muster, put a comforting arm around Sybill's shoulders.

"You could always double-check the cards, my dear – or consult the runes –" she glanced at Professor Dockrill, who was suddenly very interested in the embroidery on his sleeve (and desperately resisting the urge to comment on said 'runes'), "to see what the best way to approach the problem could be…"

Sybill looked up, apparently overjoyed. "Do you think – that could be it you know! I'll go directly!"

With that, she turned to rush out back to her trapdoor-guarded tower, shawls and jewellery whirling around her like some demented exotic dancer; Poppy only just dodged back in time to avoid being caught in the various layers of chintz.

She squinted at Amelia through her inch-think, bottle-ended glasses.

"Oh my dear, it's good to see you again so soon – you must beware my dear, I sense your path runs into darkness."

Sybill swept past an astonished Amelia and into the corridor beyond.

"Well," sad Poppy, apparently at a loss.

"What in Gods' names was that all about?" asked Amelia, not sure if she was more perplexed by the alleged seer's general behaviour or of her casual, if vague, assessment of the perils of Amelia's immediate future.

Professor Dockrill, who had been startled out of his detailed examination of his somewhat ornate cuffs, rolled his eyes.

"She rather enjoys making dramatic proclamations at people, I shouldn't let it worry you… and as for the rest, well!"

Poppy reclaimed her seat and Amelia followed suit. Poppy and Martin exchanged knowing looks; Martin, she noticed, was now grinning.

"Go on," she prompted. "You can't just put that out there and leave me hanging."

"Sybill has, how shall I put this: a long standing affection for Severus," explained Poppy.

"Claims to have seen them together in one of her 'visions'," Martin put in. "Severus has been made perfectly aware of her intentions on several occasions – some of them rather publicly. It's safe to say that he doesn't return her affections –"

"Quite clearly."

"– but she won't give up. Understandably, the whole situation makes him deeply, deeply uncomfortable."

"And although it makes anyone else in a two-hundred metre radius equally uncomfortable," Martin interjected, that tell-tale twinkle in his eye, "it's also bloody hysterical!"

"Martin, really!" admonished Poppy, slapping him playfully on the arm, though she herself was smiling. "Now, if you two will excuse me, the Ravenclaws are trying out for the quidditch team today – I'm expecting some spectacular injuries."

"Perhaps you'd join me for a cup of tea, Amelia," proposed Martin, watching Poppy bustle off. "I'd love to hear what my brother's been up to recently."

Amelia warmly agreed and followed her colleague towards his office in the base of the western tower. As they crossed into the first floor corridor all of the torches snapped out quite suddenly and the windows clouded over, leaving the two teachers – and several abruptly unhappy students – in pitch darkness.

After a few minutes of confusion the source of the charm was located in the form of two sixth-year Hufflepuffs, apparently determined to put some of their innate creativity into terrifying a few hapless first-years. After daylight had been restored and detentions doled out, the two colleagues continued on their way. Behind them a Ravenclaw first year remarked to her friend, "I wouldn't want to meet either of those two in a dark alley…"

0o0o0o0

Upon entering Professor Dockrill's office, Amelia was once again struck by the similarity between the two brothers; the room reminded her strongly of her bright college days. Two Lewis chessmen were gurning at one another and biting their shields on the wizard's desk; there was a suit of armour in the corner, currently being employed as a coat rack; a selection of swords and battleaxes were leaning against the room's many bookcases. To her growing delight, Amelia noticed that every inch of wall that wasn't taken up by bookcases was covered by maps – many of them familiar.

She was reminiscing about muddy boots in distant, rain-soaked fields when she caught sight of a trio of familiar faces, grinning and waving out of their frame. She grinned, remembering her old tutor and her somewhat cantankerous partner in crime. There was a model of a dalek next to the picture; it appeared to be engaged in combat with a tiny plastic knight. Some things must just run in families, she mused as Martin strode back in with a proffered mug of tea, which she graciously accepted.

The teachers spent an absorbing afternoon discussing the various sites and finds they had in common, Martin often revealing magical aspects of the North Atlantic of which Amelia had hitherto been unaware.

Their discussion ended with Martin lending her a fascinating book on the use of magic during the Pictish-Viking transition in the Northern Isles. She was still engrossed in this two evenings later, contentedly curled up with a mug of tea in an alcove overlooking the Clocktower courtyard.

She was at that point particularly intrigued by a reference to an Iron Age tablet recording the names of indentured House Elves when she was rudely disturbed by the sudden appearance of Severus Snape, who, with a whirl of his robes, flattened himself against the wall of the alcove in apparent terror.

Amelia reflexively reached for her wand – her recent conversation with Remus having made her battle-anxious – but Severus shook his head, desperately. Perplexed, she raised her eyebrows, questioningly, one hand still hovering over her wand pocket, book grasped tightly in the other.

The noise of an opening door and the patter of determined footfalls answered her query and she rose, about to speak, but Snape waved frantically at her to be silent. The footsteps paused some way along the corridor, and then out of the darkness came a tremulous voice:

"Severus, darling, where are you?"

Realisation dawned and Amelia, who was in danger of being engulfed in the hilarity of the situation, cocked her head to one side and gave Snape a questioning look. His dark eyes pleaded with her and he appeared to be attempting to disappear through the wall.

Amelia moved out into the passage before Snape could stop her, face carefully confused, book poised as if Sybill had simply disturbed her quiet reading.

"Sybill? Is everything alright?"

Professor Trelawney, visibly startled, checked herself.

"Oh – yes, my dear… I've been looking for Severus, did you see him pass?" a shadow of suspicion crossed the seer's face. "He's not back there with you is he?" she demanded, moving forward purposefully; behind her, she glimpsed Severus slide down the wall in dread.

Not wanting to become entangled in a truly bizarre love triangle, Amelia raised her hand to halt Sybill's progress and said, in mock disappointment, "What, in my cosy little alcove? No, no. I'm afraid there's no such starlit tryst in store for me this evening, I'm afraid."

Amelia glanced at Sybill's absurd glasses and took a gamble.

"He dashed past me not five minutes ago – said he needed some plant extracts from Pomona from one of his classes – something about Albus instituting a last minute change to the schedule…"

"Oh, well…" the other woman began, distractedly. "If he's on the Headmaster's business, then… Herbology, you say? Hmm…" she appeared to come to a decision, and with a flurry of shawls made a beeline for the greenhouses, calling "your aura is showing kindness tonight, dear," over her shoulder as she departed.

Amelia sat back down in the alcove and surveyed her fallen colleague before, succumbing, at last, to silent laughter.

Snape, still slumped across from her, glared at his rescuer from between his fingers for a good thirty seconds before he too began to laugh.

They remained thus for some time: one slumped against a wall, the other against a window, tears of silent and unexpected laughter streaming down their faces, trying not to catch one another's eyes in order to prevent their peculiar situation from worsening.

Once they had regained some semblance of composure they stood, Amelia collecting her things, Severus his thoughts.

"You know, I was beginning to think you couldn't laugh," she glanced up him, his sneer wavering for a moment as he appraised his new colleague.

"I consider many things at which people laugh unfunny – and I have my rather dour reputation to think of," to her surprise, Amelia noticed his eyes sparkling with mirth. "I tend to keep my amusement to myself."

"Well I'm glad you chose to share."

He nodded graciously, sneer still firmly in place.

They walked together towards the main staircase, silently contemplating their new alliance.

"Thank you," he said.

"Hmmm?"

"For distracting her – she doesn't give up."

"You could tell her that you don't feel that way about her…"

Severus stopped dead and turned to Amelia in frustration.

"I have told her, time and time again; she just won't take no for an answer –"

"You've told her then, that her love is unrequited?"

"On many occasions – I don't know how much plainer I can be!" he threw his head back in irritation. "It's getting absurd. I know the staff are laughing at me, and now the students are beginning to as well."

Amelia looked the frustrated man in front of her up and down and decided, rather on impulse, that he needed her help.

"Look," she began, "if you need somewhere to escape for a bit, come and hide in my office – I'm sure Sybill's inner eye won't find you there." Seeing the hesitant expression on the older man's face, she added. "You could bring your marking, or a good book, or –" she smiled, remembering an earlier conversation, "just have a cup of tea."

Severus appeared to be considering this.

"And in return?"

"Pardon me?"

"It has been my experience, Miss Brown, that people seldom do things for others – particularly those who are new to a place."

Stung and affronted, Amelia snapped, "Oh, you Slytherins! Well, if you don't need my help!"

Severus had the decency to look sheepish – her offer was tempting, after all. Despite her defiantly chirpy manner and complete inability to stifle her own amusement, he had seen on several occasions his new acquaintance's absorption in books. At least she has the ability to be quiet, he thought.

"Sorry, I suppose I do." He looked for a moment as if he were about to say more, but apparently thought better of it.

"… I guess you could teach me some potions – I mean, you are aware of my… situation, and the scuttlebutt is that you really know your way around a cauldron."

He nodded his affirmation with raised eyebrows, possibly at her weird turn of phrase. Again they walked in silence for a time, until, as if unsure his mind was in one piece, "Did you really just say 'scuttlebutt'?"