Devin spent another day in her room, pondering her recent vision, thinking about the boy she'd met, her prophecy, Sybill, her tarot card reading, and Dumbledore's job offer. She sat in a chair by the window and stared down at the cards she lightly toyed with. She'd tried reading her future again and again but after a while, the cards stopped responding. She'd gotten similar results anyway; change, caution, patience. But trying to force a different result wouldn't get her anywhere and she knew that. She just wanted something to tell her otherwise. She wanted something to tell her to run away like she wanted to. Just run back to America and keep her gaze far, far away from Britain.
Yet, nothing did. Not the stars, the tarot cards, the bones, the trinkets. Not one method of Divination gave her the answer she wanted, just the answer she needed to hear even if she didn't like it. It wasn't until that evening when she'd stepped downstairs to get a breath of air late at night that something changed. The boy—Harry—was sitting at the bar with a single light on doing his homework. No one was around to bother him this late but he seemed so small sitting on that stool; reminding her of Orion, her son.
Her throat went tight at the sight and while the two were vastly different—in both appearance and in general—it still pushed her toward the answer she'd been avoiding all week. So, she turned around, climbed the stairs back to her room, and dropped into her chair. She dragged a hand through her hair, fingers catching on the scar on her head and following it back toward the back of her neck as she took a deep breath. She exhaled shakily before grabbing her quill and writing her answer to Dumbledore. Cygnus was wide awake and more than happy to take it when she finished and once he was off, Devin sagged against the desk and dropped her head into her hands, hoping to all the Gods in the world that she wasn't making a terrible mistake.
Harry Potter had finally gotten to see his friends the day before they were to take the Hogwarts Express to start the new term. He was glad to have some company even if all the other Weasleys came with and made The Leaky Cauldron rather loud and rambunctious for dinner that evening. Things had calmed down afterward for the most part, everyone full and well-fed, tired with the busy day coming up the next morning. Harry wasn't able to go right to his room though, hearing Ron and his older brother, Percy, arguing. He offered to go get the rat tonic Ron had left downstairs to keep them from continuing their fight, slipping quietly down the stairs only to stop outside the parlor door where he could hear people arguing.
It was Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, bickering about Sirius Black and him. He knew why, kind of. Sirius Black was an escaped criminal and a danger to a lot of people. He was a murderer and a supporter of Voldemort. He just hadn't expected to hear from them that Sirius Black was possibly coming after him.
"The only thing we know for sure is what Black's after—"
"But Harry will be perfectly safe at Hogwarts."
"We thought Azkaban was perfectly safe. If Black can break out of Azkaban, he can break into Hogwarts."
"But no one's really sure that Black's after Harry—"
Harry jumped when there was a slam from one of them hitting the table.
"Molly, how many times do I have to tell you? They didn't report it in the press because Fudge wanted it kept quiet, but Fudge went out to Azkaban the night Black escaped. The guards told Fudge that Black's been talking in his sleep for a while now. Always the same words: 'He's at Hogwarts… he's at Hogwarts.' Black is deranged, Molly, and he wants Harry dead. If you ask me, he thinks murdering Harry will bring You-Know-Who back to power. Black lost everything the night Harry stopped You-Know-Who, and he's had twelve years alone in Azkaban to brood on that."
Harry felt a little nauseous at the thought of someone—a murderer—coming after him because of this whole Boy-Who-Lived thing. He never wanted that. Hell, he didn't even know he was a wizard in the first place but finding out that he was famous for something he didn't even remember doing? It was unnerving. He just wanted to be a normal boy. Or, well, not normal since there's the whole magic thing but still. Now there was a criminal after him?
He heard the couple move and hastily ducked out of sight as they left the parlor and climbed the stairs to their own rooms. He waited until he was sure they were gone to grab the bottle of rat tonic under their table, only to jump when someone spoke up behind him.
"Shouldn't you be asleep?"
He turned, fear trickling down his throat but relaxed upon seeing a somewhat familiar face. It was the witch he'd met at Flourish and Blotts. He'd forgotten she was staying here as well. He'd noticed her a few times at meals though he hadn't seen her since their encounter at the bookshop. She was… interesting, like many of the other witches and wizards he'd watched come and go through The Leaky Cauldron. Her hair was a brilliant shade of silver even though she looked rather young, not older than forty at most and Harry doubted she was that old. Her roots were darker, possibly black or brown, though he couldn't tell in the shadows of the hall. His eyes were too busy running over the scar that ran across the side of her head where it was shaved short as she ran a hand through her hair with a sigh.
Harry noticed she had a floating trunk behind her and hastily moved out of the way so she could finish descending the stairs. She didn't question his presence again, simply setting her trunk down for the moment and rubbing the back of her neck where Harry saw the scar from her temple trailing down toward her back. He was tempted to ask about it but he didn't know her and felt it might have been rude, so he stayed quiet for a moment as she dropped down to sit on the trunk to wait for something.
"Are, um… Are you leaving?" Harry asked, drawing her emerald eyes to him.
"Yes. I only planned to stay for the week…" She frowned, turning away and looking a little frustrated. "Hadn't planned to stay in Britain for any longer than I needed to."
Harry hadn't even noticed her accent wasn't English but American, drawing more curiosity from him. "You're American."
"Irish, technically," she informed him. "Though I spent a good part of my life in America. Less in Britain but… I was born in Ireland. Co. Donegal in a small little house in the middle of nowhere." She smiled fondly, glancing at him. "We had sheep."
He smiled a little back, rolling the rat tonic vial in his hands, uncertain of what more to say but not feeling uncomfortable enough to leave. She was curious and didn't act like he was famous or treat him any differently than anyone else. After what he'd just overheard too, he was a little hesitant to head back upstairs to try and sleep knowing that Sirius Black was after him.
"Did you find the answers you were looking for?" The witch asked, drawing his attention.
"Sorry?"
"You were looking at death omens," she reminded him, twisting something between her fingers.
It was a deep red stone, Harry realized, though he didn't comment on it and just attempted to respond to her question.
"I, um… I wasn't really looking for anything. I just saw the cover and… thought I saw something similar."
"A Grim?" She asked, earning a nod from him. "Why?"
Harry stared in surprise at the question before she winced, waving a hand in front of her.
"Sorry. That's… I'm sure that's a stupid question. It's, um… Sorry, I'm not used to trying to explain things."
"No. I… I saw a black dog. At my house in Surrey. I-It could've been a stray, I guess."
"Oh, no. You're misunderstanding me," she said, confusing him further. "I was asking why you thought it was a Grim. People don't just go looking for death omens unless… unless they're running from someone, I mean. A kid shouldn't…" She looked a little conflicted. "Sorry. I know you're… you actually have a reason, I suppose. I just forgot who you were."
Pressure welled up in Harry's chest at that, making his throat tight. She forgot who he was? Him? Every witch and wizard in Britain and even further beyond that knew who he was. He even reached up and touched the scar on his forehead, knowing it was at least partially in view since he relaxed while the Weasleys were around. He didn't think that who he was would be something an adult forgot about, yet here she was, sheepishly tugging at a wrapped part of her hair with some feathers in it and anxiously twisting that rock in her hand.
"I don't think…" She started, trying to find words to help the situation she'd put herself in. "I still don't think you should go looking for death omens. You're just… You're young and shouldn't have to think about stuff like that. And even if it was a Grim, you wouldn't—shouldn't have to think that it's something that will happen now. Death—"
"Happens to everyone," Harry repeated, remembering her words from the last time they met. "Eventually."
She cracked a small smile and nodded, looking away. "Sorry. I'm… I'm a shit teacher really."
"I don't think so," Harry offered. "I, um… I think you'd do alright. Teaching."
She managed a small chuckle, getting up from her trunk and stretching her arms above her head; her sleeves sliding down on her robe to reveal tattoos trailing up her arms. "Well, I'm sure we'll both find out."
Harry wasn't sure what she meant by that but watched as she drew her wand and levitated her trunk once more.
"I'll see you later, Mr. Potter."
"Y-You too, um…"
"Devin Callahan," she answered, nodding her head at him before stepping out of the pub and vanishing without a trace.
Devin shifted awkwardly in her seat as she glanced around at the other professors seated at the staff table. They were all older, more experienced, and she suddenly felt more than inadequate for her position. She'd never taught anyone in her life other than her son and while she knew a lot about Divination and Seers, she still felt out of place among the older staff members. Her only relief was the one other professor who looked around her age, seated on her left but he looked rather… stern and unapproachable. Vaguely familiar as well but she set that thought aside as Professor Flitwick sat on her right and immediately sported a large grin.
"Ah! Hello. My, you're a familiar face. Miss… Kellogg?"
Devin cracked a small smile, not minding too much that her own head of house struggled to remember her name. But at least he recognized me a little. "Callahan. Devin Callahan."
"Yes, that's right! Oh, what a surprise! Another Ravenclaw at the table."
"Is she?" Professor Sprout asked, leaning over on his other side. "Ah, yes! I remember you now. You did excellent work on your Herbology O.W.L.s. Your essay on Belladonna was exceptional."
"Thank you. I, um, had some experience with it so it wasn't too difficult to figure out," Devin offered sheepishly, still feeling uncertain about having taken this job and waiting for the inevitable question of—
"Are you here for the Dark Arts position?"
"No, no. Mr. Lupin took that one, didn't he?" Flitwick countered and Devin flinched slightly when she heard a scoff from the man on her left, glancing briefly at him before begrudgingly turning back to the other professors.
"I… I'm taking the Divination position," she admitted, earning surprised looks from them.
"Divination?" Sprout questioned. "We only just lost… Well, I'm sure you're aware."
Devin nodded, swallowing back the lump of guilt and mourning in her throat. "My aunt was… friends with Sybill. I was the only one who could get her things and Dumbledore was looking at getting a Ministry worker… It just felt disrespectful to… not take it. She wanted me to teach even though I, um, don't know the first thing about it."
"You will do fine, I'm sure," Sprout replied with a soft smile as Flitwick bobbed his head.
"Yes, and if you have any questions, I am more than happy to assist."
"Thanks. I… I appreciate it," she said as another figure stepped up to the table and sat down.
He was also young, thankfully, though looked a little run down both physically and in his appearance. His face was scarred and he wore tattered robes, but he offered a sheepish smile to Hagrid on his right and looked generally friendly. It wasn't long after him that Dumbledore himself sat and requested for Flitwick to take McGonagall's place. There had been an incident on the train. One that would be discussed at the staff meeting after the feast. Devin got the feeling it had to do with the new… residents staying on the Hogwarts grounds and repressed a shiver as students started to crowd into the Great Hall. She was not a fan of Dementors but at the very least was grateful she could defend herself from them, even if they did bring up some foul memories.
She was distracted from those thoughts though as the sorting hat was settled on a stool and the sorting ceremony began. She idly clapped along for those sorted into Ravenclaw and even for those others sorted into other houses. It felt strange to be on the other side of things, to be looking down at the students instead of feeling that anxious nervousness of sitting on the stool herself. The tingling feeling of a Sight started to come up and she quickly fought to shove it away. Only a brief flash of it passed through her vision but not enough to be noticeable and she made a mental note to unwind in her rooms once she was able. She couldn't have the Sight constantly trying to throw things at her while here. She wasn't home anymore where she could let them come and go as needed. She had to have more control over it.
The doors opened as the sorting was finished and Flitwick went to take the sorting hat away, allowing McGonagall to step up to the staff table and take her seat along with the two children she'd been speaking with. Devin recognized one of them to be Harry, unsurprised to see him sit with the young witch at his side at the Gryffindor table. Before the students could start murmuring about their late arrival though, Dumbledore stood to greet them all.
"Welcome! Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast," he said, eyes staring out over the four house tables in front of him. "As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the Dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business."
They shouldn't have even touched the train, Devin thought with a hint of frustration, knowing Dumbledore's hands were tied thanks to the Ministry but still not pleased about that. It was a train of children who didn't know how to defend themselves against that. Harry Potter being on board makes it worse… and not just him. There are kids here who have family who… The war has ruined a lot of things and these children aren't oblivious to that. To experience those dark feelings again, because of a group of scared politicians is—
"On a happier note," Dumbledore said after warning the students about wandering outside of certain areas. "I am pleased to welcome three new teachers to our ranks this year. First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."
Lupin, the haggard young man who'd joined the table a bit late stood for a moment, offering a shy smile to those awkwardly applauding. A few at the Gryffindor table clapped a bit harder but he sat down as the clapping faded and Dumbledore continued.
"As to our second new appointment… Well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs," Dumbledore explained. "However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties."
Hagrid didn't stand, too busy staring at his hands nervously with flushed cheeks as the Gryffindor table burst into applause. Dumbledore gestured for the students to calm down and spoke once more, voice more solemn.
"And finally, I am devastated to say that there was an accident this summer that led to the passing of our Divination Professor, Sybill Trelawney. It was sudden and tragic and we at Hogwarts were devastated by what happened. However, with all the sad endings there sometimes comes something good from it. Therefore, while it was a little last minute, we have managed to procure a new Divinations teacher, Professor Callahan."
Devin stood somewhat awkwardly, bowing her head slightly as another scattering of applause echoed through the Great Hall and she sat, catching sight of Harry's surprised expression as well. He hadn't known what she'd meant when she left before but now it was rather obvious and—if anything—he looked a little pleased about it. Devin only hoped she wouldn't mess anything up while teaching and allowed a hint of relief to roll through her when the food finally appeared and she could occupy her quivering hands with her meal instead of dwelling on her anxieties about teaching.
The strong drink she'd been given helped somewhat and she mentally made a note to drop by the kitchens and thank the house elves for it. Once full of food and feeling a little drained, she relaxed in her seat and waited for the students to be shooed off so the staff could move to have their meeting. It didn't take long before Dumbledore dismissed the students to bed and she cracked a small smile when Harry and two other students—friends of his—hurried over to congratulate Hagrid on his new position. She was just pushing her chair in to head off with the rest of the staff though, when Harry approached her, surprising her as his friends stood near him a little awkwardly.
"You didn't tell me you were going to be a professor," Harry said, a little accusatory, and Devin cracked a small smile at him.
"If it helps, I didn't know until a few days after I ran into you at the bookshop."
He frowned, eyeing her and making to say something more but McGonagall waved at the little trio.
"Go on, Mr. Potter. To bed with you three. You can ask more questions later."
"Yes, professor," he muttered, giving Devin a glance before bounding off with his friends.
As she joined the others on the way to the staff room, she flinched when McGonagall spoke to her.
"I didn't know you knew Mr. Potter," she said, glancing at Devin with a hint of curiosity.
"Everyone knows Harry Potter," Devin tried to brush off but McGonagall frowned.
"Yes but not everyone is as familiar with him as you seem to be."
Devin dragged a hand through her hair, ignoring the way McGonagall's eyes flickered to her scar briefly. "We just bumped into each other while I was staying at The Leaky Cauldron. He asked me a question about Divination after seeing a book at the store."
"I see. Well, I hope the answer you gave him was… useful," the older woman said, drawing a small frown from Devin. "Apologies for not… believing in such things as much as you might be. Sybill was eccentric even on the best of days and while you seem to be more level-headed, Divination is not something I bother with."
Devin ground her teeth for a moment. She understood people not believing in Divination magic. It was often hard for people to look at the future for several reasons; fear, lack of connection with the Sight, or sheer disbelief caused by false Seers, to name a few. However, she felt there was something personal here between McGonagall and Sybill.
"Sybill was struggling," Devin said shortly, not facing McGonagall in an attempt to keep her temper under control. "She may exaggerate at times but from what I've been hearing, the more recent years have been hard on her. So, if anything, someone should have been checking up on her when she started being less level-headed. Divination has little to do with a mental break from a woman who's been forced to live in isolation surrounded by people who make fun of her and her beliefs."
The last part came out sharper than she liked but her point had been made. Sybill was still a person and they had shut her away and mocked her and her practices while she'd been here. McGonagall's comments only proved to Devin that she'd been one of them. There had been little to no sympathy behind her words about Sybill and that frustrated Devin when Sybill was a good person. When she worked hard for her students and cared about them. Hearing that the staff were against her as well only made things worse.
McGonagall looked slightly startled by the confrontational attitude Devin gave her but bit her tongue to keep from replying sharply. Devin had lost someone close and now wasn't the time to bicker about the dead. That, and her words made guilt stir in McGonagall's gut. She and Sybill might not have been friends but she wouldn't have wished the woman to die. That being said, it made McGonagall uneasy to think that if she'd just checked on Sybill, her death might have been prevented.
Thankfully, they didn't have time to dwell on it as they entered the staff room where some were already waiting. Not wanting to be anywhere near Dumbledore's seat or McGonagall—at this point—Devin settled down in the set beside the scowling man from dinner. He shot her an annoyed look but didn't protest and she was content not to disturb him. She could tolerate being ignored over fighting about Sybill and people's beliefs on Divination. If anything, Devin just wanted to go to bed. She had classes with the Third Year students first thing in the morning and with the Fourth years after lunch. She didn't want to think about her lesson plans or how terrible things might go on her first day. If it was her choice, she'd relax up in the tower in Sybill's office with her pipe and just let loose for the evening but she couldn't when she had responsibilities waiting for her. Why did I agree to this damn job?
"Good evening," Dumbledore hummed, having just strolled in and drawing her gaze up away from the wood grains of the table in front of her.
She hadn't noticed when everyone arrived and lightly rubbed at her eyes for a second to try and focus once more.
"I will attempt to not take too much time as I know we will all have a busy day tomorrow. So, I will attempt to keep things brief. First, a warm welcome to Professor Lupin and Professor Callahan. While you both may be familiar with some of us and with the grounds, do not be afraid to speak up and ask for assistance if needed."
Devin nodded alongside Lupin and Dumbledore was quick to continue.
"I also wish to speak about what occurred on the train. It is… unfortunate that we are having to play host to the Dementors of Azkaban—"
"We're a school," McGonagall snapped. "These halls are full of children. I don't know what the Ministry was thinking."
They weren't, Devin mentally noted, agreeing with McGonagall on that much at least.
"It certainly won't be any good for learning," Professor Sprout commented as there were a few mutters of agreement. "Is there nothing we can do, Albus?"
He shook his head solemnly. "Unfortunately, the Ministry has made it clear that they are to stay until Sirius Black is apprehended or there is significant proof that he is not coming to Hogwarts."
That drew Devin's attention, idly remembering her Sight of Sirius Black but being uncertain of some things, lifting her hand and drawing the Headmaster's gaze.
"Yes, Professor Callahan?"
"Devin is fine," she offered first, though she didn't like him she still wasn't used to the title of Professor. "I just… I'm a bit out of the loop. Why would Sirius Black come here?"
"You don't know?" McGonagall questioned. "For Potter, of course."
Devin frowned, opening her mouth to say something before changing what she was going to say. "Apologies. I've not been living in the country for some time so I'm not aware of the connection between them. Why would he come for Harry?"
"He's one of You-Know-Who's followers," Professor Sinistra informed. "He's the one who got Lily and James Potter killed."
"I will explain further after the meeting, if you wish, Devin," Dumbledore offered. "For the moment, just know that the Ministry fears he is headed this way and for Harry's sake, Dementors have been placed around the edges of Hogwarts grounds. I won't allow them to come any closer, though do keep an eye on the more… unruly students who may try to wander off out of curiosity."
McGonagall sighed. "I'll have my hands full with the Gryffindors for sure."
"I'll keep a close watch on the grounds," Hagrid declared. "Do patrols even, after hours."
"That would be appreciated, Hagrid," Dumbledore hummed. "Though don't forget your responsibilities as a teacher now."
" 'Course," he said with a small grin tucked behind his beard.
"We will also have our usual patrols after lights out, though there will be two people now instead of just the one," Dumbledore declared, gesturing to McGonagall, who stood and began to hand out slips of paper with the groupings. "Other than that, I do believe we have nothing more to discuss at this meeting unless there are any questions?"
Devin had some but bit her tongue, not that it stopped the Headmaster from noticing.
"Then, you are all free to go. Devin, if you would stay a moment to continue our earlier discussion?"
She nodded, feeling uneasy with the memory of her Sight so obviously conflicting with what was being said about Sirius Black. McGonagall stopped by her though, drawing her attention as she placed a second piece of paper before her.
"There are a few spare rooms left if you'd rather not stay in… in the Divination classroom. I'm sure it's… hard for you."
Devin was a little surprised by the softness of her words and felt a hint of guilt for how she'd acted toward the woman before. "Right, um… thank you."
McGonagall nodded, gesturing to the sheet and pointing out a crossed-off one. "That one was taken by Remus. Professor Lupin, rather. The rest are still available. Let me know if you need assistance locating them."
Devin looked over the few options but shook her head. "No, I… I believe I know where they are. Thanks."
She nodded and stepped out with the few other professors, leaving Devin with Dumbledore who smiled pleasantly, despite the sight of it making her stomach twist.
"Shall we move to my office? Someplace a little more comfortable."
Devin wanted to argue that there wouldn't be anywhere she felt comfortable with him, much less his office, but nodded and allowed him to lead her out of the room. She followed him through the hallways and passages, remembering them being full of students and feeling herself drift off into a small Sight of her shoving her way through crowds of students, on the run from a few others who were chasing after her and shouting, before Dumbledore's voice cut through the slight ringing in her ears.
"Lemon drops."
The gargoyle statue in front of his office moved aside and they began their trek up the stairs. She'd only been in his office once before and swallowed the lump trying to form in her throat to prevent her Sight from causing more issues. It really made her memories difficult to deal with when she could fall into them at any moment. The last thing she wanted was to do so with him watching.
Thankfully, she grounded herself well enough, gripping the jasper stone she'd pulled from her pocket tight, letting the cool feel of it calm her down as she stepped into the room and kept her gaze focused solely on his desk. She could feel the eyes of the Headmaster's portraits and hear the soft coos of Dumbledore's phoenix. He waved her toward a chair that she took a seat in and focused on the feeling of the fabric under her hands and took a deep breath, slowly letting it out as he spoke.
"What do you know off Sirius Black?" Dumbledore asked first.
"Not much," she offered. "I've seen the papers, what they're claiming."
His gaze shifted to hers rather quickly at that and realized she'd already screwed up. "Claiming," he noted. "You don't believe he's guilty?"
"I… I don't know," she offered instead, not saying anything about her Sight because she didn't want him to know. "I just… I don't know enough to answer either way. I've been in America."
"You went to school the same years he did," Dumbledore informed her, having looked into her and finding out that much, apparently. "He, James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew were a close-knit bunch of friends during those years at Hogwarts."
"I was a bit of a… recluse," Devin muttered, not wanting to admit that she'd gone out of her way to forget as much about her years here as she could. "Spent most of my time with a head stuck in a book, sir."
"Yes, a Ravenclaw through and through," Dumbledore hummed, accepting her answer well enough, much to her relief. "The Potters were hidden away during the war at one point due to a prophecy."
My prophecy, Devin knew, tightening her grip on the stone in her hand.
"The only one who knew their location was their Secret Keeper. Sirius was the most logical choice and he told Voldemort where they were."
Devin flinched at the dark wizard's name but didn't protest its usage. She flinched out of fear of the villain and what he would do should he find out she was the Seer who'd viewed that prophecy. Or him finding out that she could See so much more than that. Dumbledore had no such fear.
"He then fled to a nearby town and killed a dozen muggles and Peter himself," Dumbledore continued. "He's been imprisoned in Azkaban for the last twelve years but according to the Minister, before he broke out, he was heard muttering about someone being at Hogwarts. Hence, the Dementors now patrolling the grounds."
"I… I see," Devin muttered, thinking back to that Sight and how wrong it was.
It didn't make sense. None of it did. Her Sights did show her possible futures but they also showed her ghosts of the past. Not possibilities that may have happened but facts that had already occurred. She Saw Sirius Black facing Peter Pettigrew but the accusations being thrown… Sirius was blaming Peter for what happened. The contradictions made her head spin and being unable to question it without bringing up her Sight was frustrating. She reached up and rubbed at her face, trying to think back to her time at Hogwarts and remember what she could about Sirius.
"He… He was a Gryffindor, wasn't he? Sirius, I mean," she muttered and Dumbledore nodded.
"Yes. A bit of a black sheep, really, in the House of Blacks. It's why it came as a shock that he betrayed Lily and James. The Potters often took care of him after he'd run from home. They were close. He was even named Harry's Godfather."
"So, he wouldn't—" She cut herself short, toying with the words to try and say what she wanted but having to be so very careful. "He was the last person who would."
"Yes, one would have assumed so."
There was something there, in his voice, that made her glance over at him. Does he… She felt that bitterness toward the Headmaster build again, swallowing back the sharp taste of bile rising in her throat and turning her gaze away as she stood.
"I understand. Sorry for… for making you explain."
"As you said, you were out of the country for some time. It is only right to give you the full picture."
She bit back the sharp words on the tip of her tongue, turning to head toward the doors only for him to stop her before she reached them.
"And Devin?"
She glanced at him from over her shoulder, hand on the handle of the door.
"If there's anything you may need, you can come to me."
Not even on my deathbed, she mentally spat, just giving him a nod and stepping out. She was really starting to regret this decision of hers to teach at Hogwarts. It wasn't even the first day and she was already stressed, struggling to hold back frustration and anxiety. She'd stormed up to the Divination tower, feeling it all bubbling under her skin, and once there she cast a silencing charm on the classroom, using her wand to push aside desks, chairs, mats, and whatever else in the way before conjuring a few practice dummies.
Her jaw went tight and with a growl of anger, she removed her gloves and cast spell after spell. Cutting, blasting, tearing the dummies apart with whatever spells she knew before storming up to one of them and slamming a hard fist against its wooden head. They lay at her feet, splintered and beaten as she panted, out of breath and covered in a light sheen of sweat. Her knuckles stung, her skin cracked once more, and dripping blood down her fingers but some of that burn faded and she allowed herself to take a long, deep breath.
She held it for a moment, tipping her head back and closing her eyes before letting it out, leaving her shoulders to sag with the release of weight. It wasn't her usual method of handling stressors and Sybill would highly disapprove, but if she did her usual, she wouldn't be in very good shape for the class she had in the morning. She opened her eyes and clicked her tongue at the thought, vanishing the dummies and swiping her wand through the air, bringing back the furniture and letting it fall into place before going to get her trunk from Sybill's office.
McGonagall had been right that she wouldn't be able to sleep in her rooms for some time. Just being in there made her See ghosts of Sybill's time at Hogwarts, so she took her things and started back down the stairs to find one of the rooms she'd been offered. One was in the dungeons which she immediately didn't want due to the lack of windows. She needed somewhere she could see the sky but not be too far off from where her classroom was. There was another over in the staff tower but she knew if she did that, then she'd be far too close to the other professors. She wanted to keep some distance and prevent them from stumbling into her while she was doing things they may disapprove of or when she simply didn't want company.
Then, she spotted one just down the hall from the astronomy tower. Relief trickled through her since the worst she might run into was Flitwick on the way to his classroom or perhaps the other new teacher for Defence Against the Dark Arts. When she found the room as well, her relief grew. It had large windows near the bed, an attached bathroom so she wouldn't have to go to the staff rooms to bathe, and an oak desk that she ran her bare hands over. Her eyes flickered closed at the touch of it, Seeing brief images of those who'd once used the desk and smiling softly to herself as she opened her eyes once more.
At the very least, this room was safe. Safe from memories, from pain, giving her a view of the night sky where she could perfectly spot the constellation of Orion from. Her eyes watered at the sight and she settled herself on the windowsill, propping up a leg and leaning her forehead against the cool glass. She sighed softly, enjoying the view for a moment wishing she could draw her pipe and relax properly but instead rose from her perch, bandaged her hand, and soon climbed into bed. Tomorrow would certainly be just as stressful as today and she needed to rest, closing her eyes to the sound of a fire crackling in the fireplace, imagining she was back home in America in her cabin in the woods.