Chapter 2

Aurelia stood before the towering Hogwarts Castle, a place she had only ever heard of in passing stories from her sister and mother. It seemed like a dream now, standing here, facing the stone walls that loomed above her. Her heart fluttered with uncertainty and a hint of excitement, as she adjusted her semiformal attire: a deep green dress with intricate embroidery on the hem, paired with a tailored jacket that felt both elegant and a bit out of place in this ancient setting. A light breeze tugged at her dark hair, reminding her that this decision—this spontaneous choice to leave her quiet life behind and seek something new—wasn't without its risks.

Her friends had insisted that she needed a change, that she had nothing left to lose. Aurelia had agreed, though she had never seriously expected to be accepted to Hogwarts. It was just an interview, after all. They could turn her down, just as easily as they could welcome her into the fold.

As she entered the Headmaster's office, the figure of Professor Albus Dumbledore sat behind a cluttered desk, his half-moon glasses perched delicately on the bridge of his nose. The desk was an eclectic mix of tea cups, snacks, and papers, the room a chaotic maze of objects, books, and peculiar trinkets. It seemed purposeful in its disarray, much like the man himself.

"Do you have any experience teaching, Miss Lights?" Dumbledore's voice was warm, though it carried an undeniable weight of curiosity.

Aurelia hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. "No, sir, not officially. I've done some tutoring, however." Her voice was steady, but the question lingered in her chest. Was this really happening? Could she actually have a place at Hogwarts?

Dumbledore stroked his long silver beard thoughtfully, eyes twinkling behind his glasses. "I see, I see. You see, Miss Lights, I've received a few complaints from Muggle-born students about the Muggle Studies class. It seems the course hasn't evolved as it should. So, I've decided to make a change. A Ministry worker, Flora Hurdman, recommended you. She spoke highly of you. A squib living among Muggles—what a perfect fit."

Aurelia's stomach twisted at the mention of her sister's name. Flora. Her sister had been distant for years, never responding to her letters. Not even the one she had sent after their father passed away. The sudden reminder of her made her throat tighten.

"Flora…put in a word for me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Dumbledore nodded with a smile. "Yes. And I trust her judgment. I believe you're the best candidate. We already have a squib working here, so the community will be familiar with you."

Aurelia blinked, her mind still racing. "So that's it? Just like that, I'm…hired?"

He chuckled softly. "Indeed. You will begin at the start of the term. For now, you can settle into your chambers, familiarize yourself with the castle, and prepare for the semester."

Aurelia stared at him, stunned. She hadn't even considered the possibility of being accepted. The thought of teaching, of taking on the responsibility of an entire class—it was overwhelming. She glanced at the tea and biscuits that sat untouched in front of her. Her mind was elsewhere.

"Miss Lights?" Dumbledore's voice brought her back to the present.

She blinked and cleared her throat. "Yes?"

"Argus Filch is here to show you to your chambers."

Aurelia stood, her legs slightly shaky. She thanked Dumbledore, who smiled at her kindly before she followed the elderly caretaker out of the office. As the doors opened, a tall man stepped into the hallway. His long, black hair framed a sharp, hawk-like face, and his eyes—dark as midnight—swept over her with a chilling, assessing gaze. His attire was black, sleek, and cloaked in a way that suggested he belonged in the shadows.

"Professor," Filch greeted him in a low, gruff voice.

The man nodded curtly. "Filch."

Aurelia could feel his eyes linger on her for just a moment before he moved past them with a swift, almost predatory grace. Filch didn't seem to notice her discomfort, continuing his cheerful chatter about the students and the rotten behavior of the young witches and wizards at Hogwarts.

"Who was that?" Aurelia asked, trying to make note of the unsettling presence of the man they'd just passed.

"Hm?" Filch looked at her, his beady eyes twinkling. "Oh, that's Professor Snape. Potions master and head of Slytherin house."

Aurelia felt a twinge of recognition. If memory served her right, Flora had never mentioned Professor Snape in her letters, simply how much she disliked potions. "He's… new, then?"

Filch's smile faded slightly. "Yes, he's new. But he's certainly made his mark."

Filch rambled on about the students and how they treated him as he gave her a brief tour of the castle, all the while insisting on how important it was for squibs to look out for one another. Aurelia nodded politely, but the words seemed to wash over her, her mind still reeling from the unexpected turn of events.

When they arrived at her chambers, Aurelia took a deep breath. The space was small but cozy, with a flickering fireplace in the corner and a tiny kitchen to her right. To the left, a door likely led to her bedroom, and another led to a simple bathroom. It was quaint. Comfortable. A far cry from the quiet, lonely flat she had left behind.

She walked further into the room, closing the door behind her. She leaned against it, exhaling slowly as the weight of the day sank in. The school was enormous—its halls and staircases stretching on forever. She had heard of the moving staircases and enchanted portraits, but now that she was here, it felt both magical and terrifying.

Aurelia glanced around the room. Now what? She hadn't thought through what would happen if she actually became a professor. Muggle Studies. The term itself seemed vague—was it about society? Culture? History? How could she possibly teach a class like that? The idea was overwhelming, and she needed to figure out the next steps.

The best place to start was with the curriculum. She wandered the castle, asking paintings and house-elves for directions until she finally managed to find a folder of Muggle Studies materials. The library, though vast and grand, was quiet—eerily so. There were no students here, no librarian. It was an empty hall of books, towering above her.

As she sat down at a table and began leafing through the materials, her heart sank further. How to use a toaster? The instructions on how to turn on a television? This was what Muggle Studies had become? She grimaced, finding it more absurd with every page she turned. No wonder the students had complained. How could this pass for a class? She closed the folder with a snap, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration.

"Ridiculous," she muttered under her breath.

She glanced around the library once more, wondering if any of the books on the shelves might offer more serious insights into Muggle culture. She stood up, skimming through the shelves in search of anything useful. After a few rows of potion texts, she finally turned the corner and bumped into something—or rather, someone.

"Oof." Her hands shot to her nose, which had been struck with enough force to cause a sharp sting and a wave of tears.

"Sorry," she said, looking up to see who it was.

It was him again—Professor Snape, standing like a shadow in the aisles of books, his lips curled into a faint sneer. He made no move to apologize or even acknowledge her discomfort. With a dismissive flick of his wrist, he moved past her, continuing his search.

Aurelia stood there, staring after him, her irritation bubbling to the surface. He was… impossible.

"Do you have a habit of simply staring?" His voice came, deep and cold, without even a glance in her direction.

Her cheeks flushed, and she quickly looked away. "No," she replied, her tone just as icy. "I was contemplating whether or not you were a good choice to ask about something."

Snape didn't respond at first, only pulling a book from the shelf and flipping it open, his long fingers skimming the pages. "And what have you concluded?" he asked, still not looking at her.

Aurelia took a step back. "That I'd have better luck asking the shelves themselves," she replied with a hint of bite, walking past him with a determined pace.

She made her way back to the table, gathering her thoughts as she jotted down ideas for the Muggle Studies curriculum—history, literature, and inventions. Practical, hands-on lessons that might actually engage the students.

By the time she was done, the sun had set, and the library was empty, save for her and Professor Snape, who was still engrossed in his reading. Aurelia's stomach gave a loud, rumbling protest. She flushed, embarrassed, when she noticed that Snape had looked up from his book.

"There's food in the staff room," he remarked, his voice smooth and deadpan. "Or you can go straight to the kitchens."

She blinked, surprised by his tone. Was he being considerate? No, surely not. She couldn't help but wonder what his true intentions were. "Sorry," she muttered, avoiding his gaze.

Snape raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "It's been rumbling for some time," he said with a sardonic tone, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at her. "I kept thinking there's an earthquake starting."

With a flushed face, Aurelia stood and gathered her things, purposefully making noise as she clattered her papers together, causing Snape to grimace at the sound.

"Oops," she said with a wry smile, unbothered by the effect it had on him. She marched out of the library, her mind still turning over everything that had happened that day.

What a terribly rude man.

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