First class of the year is Monday morning, Seventh Year N.E.W.T. transfiguration. Minerva's at the back of the class, disillusioned. This will be one of my most difficult classes, and she didn't mention to me that she'd be watching my first class. It'll be difficult because I'm supposedly younger than two of my students. I have to command their respect as a teacher, as a mentor, but I'm physically younger than all of them.
Thus, a demonstration.
I'm standing at the front of the classroom, eating an apple, waiting for the final two students to arrive.
"Oh, good, you're all here," I say, holding the apple core in my left hand. "Here" is the N.E.W.T.-level Transfiguration classroom, a nice, wide-open room for changing large things into equally large things. I flick the apple core, point my wand at it, and a magnificent griffon is standing at the front of the class. It gives an equally magnificent screech, before padding its way to the back of the class, past all the students, and taking a seat next to Minerva.
"Welcome to Seventh Year Transfiguration. I am Professor Evans. You will refer to me as Professor, as I will refer to you as Mister or Miss, then your surname. My goal for you this year is large scale transfiguration, such as what you just witnessed, or such as this," I point my wand, turning a nearby desk into a flock of birds that quickly take roost in the rafters alongside Hedwig. "Or this," I point my wand at a rather large trunk, and change it into a single, lone white ferret that stays precisely where it is.
I give a negligent wave of my wand, and the class syllabus duplicates itself from my desk, and flies onto all of theirs.
"For those of you who like to study ahead, this is the syllabus for this year. While I will not expect quite as fantastical work as I perform, it will be appreciated. Let's begin with some of the theory behind this, and then start in on the practical."
0x0x0x0
Once they all file out I wave my wand, returning everything, including a rather confused bear, to their original forms.
"So how'd I do, Professor?" I ask
She drops her disillusionment charm, only somewhat surprised I noticed her.
"How quickly did you see me?"
"As soon as I walked in. So really, how did I do?"
"I was impressed. You took charge of the classroom quickly and skilfully, and presented the material in a competent way."
I nod, taking what I can get from her.
"A little light on theory, I know, but I've always preferred practical skills to theoretical knowledge. I'll make sure they understand what they're doing, and what dangers they can run into before letting them do anything."
"Very good, Professor Evans."
"Thank you, Professor McGonagall."
We both walk to the Great Hall for Lunch. As soon as I enter, a number of eyes are on me. I can already tell the gossip mill is churning out rumours left and right, just like I expected. I sit next to McGonagall, remaining largely quiet through a conversation between her and Sirius Black. I scan the students, and spot Malfoy, Weasley, Granger, all where they should be. I notice Harry at the Gryffindor table, chatting with one of the other second years... Devin Conway, was it? Him and a few of the other students.
With Voldemort gone, I don't have to worry about Hermione getting killed by a troll, but... huh. I do have to worry about her leaving, because she doesn't have any friends. I mean, yes, Magic is wonderful and everything, but... why stay, if she doesn't have any friends? Why bother, when even fewer people like her?
Thinking back on old Slughorn gives me an idea. And, also, some ideas for more lessons for interested students. Right now, I need to get into the habit of things, before adding more onto my plate.
I make my way through the rest of the week, with only two more interesting classes of note. One of them, of course, is the second year Gryffindors.
It seems this Harry has the same taste in friends that I had, as Devin Conway attempts to fall asleep halfway through my class. Hedwig informs me, and voices my displeasure by landing on him and digging her claws into his back.
He jumps, screams, while Hedwig flies up to my arm.
"Thank you, dear," I tell her.
"You're welcome." She flaps back up into the rafters of the room.
"What the bloody hell?" asks Devin, while Harry is smirking.
"Mister Conway. Classrooms are for learning. Dorms are for sleeping. Please remember this distinction if you wish to continue in my class. Miss O'Malley?"
"Professor, what was that white bird?"
Hedwig lands on my shoulders.
"Class, this is Hedwig. Hedwig is my familiar. Say hello, class."
"Hello, Hedwig," says a chorus of small children.
"Hello, class," says Hedwig. "Be good, because I'll be keeping an extra eye on you for Professor Evans, alright?"
They're all pretty surprised by Hedwig talking back. She jumps over to the desk, and a quick burst of magic gets them paying attention to my lecture. The legality of Hedwig is an interesting legal grey area. I'm a registered Warlock, which means I'm sort of expected to have a weird creature as a side-kick. On the other hand, she was a post owl, and that falls under magic creature breeding laws... maybe. Tack on the fact she's sentient, and it becomes a legal quagmire that'd take a few years to sort out.
Finally I get to the class of first years.
According to Hedwig, Minerva's back, and she's under an invisibility cloak. After a few wandless spells I can guess that it's the Potter family cloak. I ignore it, and change into my wolf animagus transformation, and sit on a nice ottoman I conjured. I can smell Minerva's smirk of amusement, as I watch the various students take their seats. I recognize each and every one, Hermione Granger and the other Ravenclaws up front, all the 'Puffs in the middle, Slytherins are a mixture of up front and back and to the left, while the Gryffindors take up back and to the right.
Harry isn't in this year, but Ron still manages to walk in five minutes late.
I growl at him as he sits down. Jumping off the ottoman I give them all a fright as I change into their Professor.
"I am Professor Evans, and I will teach you Transfiguration. Transfiguration will be some of the most difficult, dangerous, and rewarding magic you will ever learn. Allow me to repeat that, because it is important. Difficult. Dangerous. Rewarding."
"First and foremost, Transfiguration is changing something into something else." I tap my wand against my desk, changing it into a rhino for effect. It snorts with derision as Hedwig lands on its back. "Transfiguration, as magic, is visualization. That's a long word, but to sum it up better, what you see in your mind is what you'll get out of your wand. I wanted a rhino, I got a rhino. If I want an elephant," I tap the rhino and it changes into a full-size African bull elephant. "I get an elephant." It trumpets for effect. I cancel it all, getting back my desk.
"We won't be starting with rhinos and elephants. Instead, we'll begin with something small and simple."
I had to refresh my memory for the correct wand motions and incantation, but now I've got a bunch of eleven-year-olds waving their wands and chanting in bad Latin at matchsticks. I walk amongst the students, helping their pronunciation and correcting wand movements as I go. Hermione is still the first that gets it, but a few of the other kids start getting silver matchsticks as well. A bit better than my first lesson, but I don't recall McGonagall going around correcting pronunciation as much as I did.
"So, how did I do?" I ask once the students have filed out.
She tries to play dumb.
"Professor, don't make me change back into a wolf and mark you. That seems to be a very nice cloak if I couldn't detect you."
"And just how did you see me this time, Miss Evans?"
"I used to be a post owl, ma'am. I have excellent hearing," says Hedwig.
McGonagall nods, considering me carefully.
"It is not often a familiar changes so much from such a bond, Professor Evans."
"She cares very much about me, Professor McGonagall," says Hedwig.
"Consider your job kept, at least until we see the grades at the end of the year, Miss Evans."
"Of course."
I wonder how long until Sybill loses her job?
0x0x0x0
The one thing I can't stand about the job is how many papers I have to correct. Mind you, I have no-one to fault but myself... still. I'm sorting through forty pieces of parchment. Normally, I'd have Hedwig help, but she's off delivering a letter to Tonks for me.
Naturally, my fireplace turns green, and a head pokes out.
"Jamie, you there?"
"Just correcting papers. Come on through, Tonks."
Tonks steps through with Hedwig perched on her shoulders. Both of them shake off the dust, Hedwig landing on the desk to investigate whichever essay I'm looking at.
"Hermione?" asks Hedwig.
"Yeah," I say, setting aside the two feet of parchment. "I'm tempted to just start marking hers O without reading them. So how are you, Tonks?"
"Pretty good. Missed you, this week."
"Missed you, too. Believe me, all the munchkins can't make up for some good conversation. Have you been practicing like I told you, too?"
"Do you always think about teaching?" asks Tonks.
"I like my friends to be able to protect themselves. It's a bit of a habit."
Tonks nods, looking a little sad about something. I decide to drive home on that for a little bit.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing, nothing."
"So what'd you want to do? Head down to Hogsmeade and get some lunch?"
"Sure, that'd be good."
"Come on, then. I'll buy, seeing as how I'm gainfully employed thanks to you."
I'd not be the first to admit Tonks is a nice girl. She has a lot of energy, a lot of softness that I remember Andromeda saying the war stole from her. It's nice to talk with a wizard who doesn't gush about who I am, who doesn't have that shared look of pain and horror that I have. Towards the end, even if I wanted to, I couldn't go amongst the muggles. Too many scars, and a strange limb. That, and with the ever growing pace of technology, the "Implements of Paranoia" I carried on my person caused more and more problems with the technology around me.
To be honest with myself, Tonks is a nice girl. I could fall for her, maybe. Knowing Remus is dead, knowing I'd never hold my Godson. Except, well, it's pretty obvious she doesn't swing my way, now isn't it? The joys of being a man trapped in a woman's body.
I'd drink, but I swore off the stuff a long time ago.
So, instead, I'm going to Hogsmeade to be the friend of a pretty bird.
0x0x0x0
"You will reverse your punishment, Evans," grumbles Severus Snape at the staff meeting. Third week in, and I'm already butting heads with him.
"No."
"As his head of house, I will deal with him."
"No," I reply. "He called one of his fellow students a mudblood in my class, and he will serve his detention with me this Saturday. I don't care if he's in your house, he will serve his punishment with me."
Severus is grumbling under his breath, while Sirius is smirking. McGonagall has her usual stern look.
"And just what will Mister Malfoy being doing during your detention?" asks McGonagall.
"He will be writing an essay comparing grade performance of muggleborn versus pureblood children. If he wishes to claim muggleborn are ignorant and stupid, he will attempt to back it up with facts."
Hermione actually wrote this paper as an extra-credit project to turn into Snape. Snape wasn't overly concerned with the facts… except it was later found in one of his desk drawers. I'd like to think me and Hermione were among his favourites, even if he never admitted it to anyone except Albus.
Sirius snorts with derision at this proclamation, while Flitwick and Sprout are both amused by my detention.
"I think that is an acceptable detention, Professor Evans. The punishment stands."
The rest of the staff meeting is pretty boring. I recall the conversation I had with Hermione, after Draco's "ignorant and stupid mudblood" comment to her.
"Miss Granger, as you might have guessed, there's a fair amount of prejudice in the magical world."
"I… I have," she replied, not looking up from my desk.
"Miss Granger, before I took this job, I was considering getting a job teaching in the muggle school system. If you wish for any help or tutoring for taking your GCSEs, you need only ask."
"You wanted to get a job teaching muggles?" she asked, surprised.
"I've wanted to be a teacher for a long time, Miss Granger. That I got this job was amazing luck on my part, and I will not waste it. But if you do decide the magical world isn't for you, I will do everything in my power to make sure you're prepared for the muggle one."
"Th-thank you, Professor."
"Remember, my office door is always open, Miss Granger. Come by this Friday afternoon, I want to talk with you about something when you have some free time."
"Of course, Professor. Again, thank you very much."
"Was there anything else?" asks McGonagall, bringing me back to the meeting. With that, the staff meeting breaks up. Sirius immediately tries chatting me up. He's an incorrigible flirt, and I'm more embarrassed than amused when he flirts with me. He's lightened up quite a bit, but I think he wants to loosen me up, some.
"I'm liking your punishment for Draco. I'd hate to be a bad student in your class."
"I think I'd hate to have you as a student," I reply.
He guffaws at this, but continues unabated.
"Well, I'm meeting with Andromeda and Ted this Saturday for dinner, and I believe they're dragging Miss Tonks along. How about you come along, eh?"
"Well, if Malfoy doesn't finish his essay by the time we need to leave, I suppose I can just make him continue work on Sunday," I say, considering this.
"That's the spirit!" says Sirius. "Just stop by my office, and we'll floo down to the Three Broomsticks, alright?"
I nod, thinking about Tonks. I haven't been seeing her as much, but we've been meeting for dinner on and off, when I don't have nightly patrols with the prefects. I've taken her to the Three Broomsticks once or twice, but I've also been hunting down good muggle restaurants in the "area." I'll have to speak with Ted about Tonks never having eaten pizza. Not quite as good as American pizza, but I'll save trans-Atlantic portkeys for special occasions.
0x0x0x0
Friday afternoon with Miss Granger is an educational experience for her; namely in how to drink tea, how to teach, and how to tutor.
It goes pretty well. I teach her the formal rules for pureblooded ladies drinking tea (she learns it out of sheer curiosity), and intermix it with questions about explaining transfiguration concepts. She realised what I was asking her for when I said, "Right, you and I would understand that explanation, but what about someone who hasn't read the book? Or, worse yet, has but doesn't understand it? There's been a lot of research by muggles into how children learn best. Some learn by having it explained to them, some learn by reading it, some learn by watching someone else do it, and some learn by just doing it."
Hermione has this sudden revelation, and she has this glazed look over her eyes as she considers everything she's ever done with people.
"I've been driving people away by talking like that, haven't I?"
"Probably," I reply. "I was planning on having tea with some of the other students, something similar to this. Would you like to come?"
"I think I'd like that."
I hadn't spent a long time thinking about this very topic. No, not at all.
0x0x0x0
Saturday morning, quarter past ten. It seems Mister Malfoy believes he doesn't need to come to my detention. It is time to make an example of him, I feel.
I once spent a weekend bender trying to understand the Marauder's Map, and how it worked. There were two parts to it. First was fairly straightforward, mapping the castle. Second was a bit more insidious, and I came to suspect Remus played a large part in it. The map is tied into the castle wards. Apparently, about two hundred years ago, one of the Headmasters had the bright idea of having Hogwarts herself keep track of attendance, rather than the teachers, so identifier wards were added. However nobody could figure out how to actually input the schedules for each student, and nobody wanted to tear out the identifier ward itself, for fear of damaging all the other ones. The map uses this identifier ward, because nobody bothered with locking it down.
Thus, the white slate I'm holding in my hands. Part of the joy of making the rounds is adding locations to the map. I've added quite the number of secret passages, and have been working on finding all the ones in Parseltongue. Slytherin, it seems, liked to be able to sneak into places. I haven't had a chance to explore the tunnels from the Chamber of Secrets, but I've got all year.
"Mister Malfoy," I say at half-past ten.
"Go 'way," he mumbles, turning over in bed.
I wave my hand, and the covers are ripped off the bed, the bed itself is overturned, and Malfoy is spilled onto the (cushioning charmed) floor.
"I dislike repeating myself, Mister Malfoy," I say, adding a silencing charm so I don't have to listen to him whine. "I stated you had a detention at ten this morning. It is now half past ten. Get dressed."
Draco starts screaming at me, and I give him a minute to realise he's been silenced.
"You have five minutes to get dressed. If you are not, I will be taking you as you are dressed." I make a note of setting a muggle watch. I conjured it just to annoy him.
He then spends the next five minutes, glaring at me, dressed in silk pyjamas. Green and silver. Unsurprising.
My watch beeps. I levitate him, and he attempts to yell at me some more as I take him from the Slytherin Dorms. Severus Snape stalks up to me as I leave, but I refuse to actually stop moving forward.
"What do you think you're doing?" he asks, sneering at me, as we start up the steps out of the dungeons.
"Mister Malfoy is late for his detention. I woke him, and gave him five minutes to get dressed. He decided, instead, to do nothing."
Severus considers this, as he follows me through the halls to my classroom. I drop Malfoy into his usual seat.
"Mister Malfoy, the books in front of you are grade records for the last fifty years. If you do not finish your essay today, I will see you tomorrow. I will allow you to leave for lunch at the appropriate time, but you will return. Do you have any questions?"
He speaks for a minute, before realising I haven't released the silencing charm. He then raises his hand. I undo the charm, and nod at him.
"When my fath-"
"Your questions needed to be related to your detention, Mister Malfoy. I have dealt with greater and more terrible wizards than a Malfoy. Your father does not concern me. Professor Snape, I believe the Headmistress already stated his punishment stood as it was, and he should consider himself lucky I don't extend it given I had to retrieve him. Was there anything else?"
He considers me for a long moment.
"A prefect will be by with more appropriate garb for Mister Malfoy," says Severus, before stalking right back out.
I take a seat at my desk, and grade papers, releasing the silencing spell on Draco for a few minutes.
"Mister Malfoy," I say, reading over an essay by one of the fourth years. "I should remind you that I will be keeping you here tomorrow if you don't finish that essay. I suggest you start work on it. If you have questions about how you should go about doing it, Hedwig or I will be more than happy to help you."
Malfoy grumbles something about stupid mudblood teachers and even stupider birds, but he realises defeat if Severus couldn't rescue him.
It's an hour of quiet scratching, the book unopened, before Malfoy hands me a foot of parchment.
"Mister Malfoy, I am not looking for unoriginal sayings," I say, looking over the essay. It's the usual blithering drivel of propaganda. "One of the first rules for answering a question, is to actually answer the question. I am looking for original research. I am looking for you to prove whether or not muggleborns are stupid via the grades in the book. If you can prove it, then you are right. If you cannot, then you are wrong. Sit down, and try again. Now, can I help you, Miss…?"
"Mrs. Potter," says Lily Potter. She walked in while I was ranting at Draco. "Can I speak with you in private?"
"Hedwig, keep an eye on Mister Malfoy, and if necessary, teach him statistics. Mrs. Potter, if you would adjourn to my office?"
"Of course," she says. I can tell she doesn't trust me in the slightest. Hell, I wouldn't trust me in the slightest either. She has collarless sleeves, and her wand is in a quick-draw holster.
"I do believe you're the first parent to stop by and ask questions about their child, so pardon me while I'm a little rough at what I'm supposed to say," I tell her, acting as nonchalant as possible for Draco, as we enter my office. I take a seat behind the desk, while she glances about. She stops at the massive skull of the basilisk, mounted on my wall. The teeth are all elephant ivory, and it took a long time to clean the skull enough to put it near people, but it makes an excellent conversation piece.
She manages to ignore it, though, and look straight at me. I don't think she entirely knows what to say, so I start the conversation for her.
"I'm surprised James isn't with you."
"I figured you wanted to keep your job," replied Lily. "Besides, Tonks said a number of good things about you. I wanted to see for myself."
I nod, openly thankful.
"I'm surprised my description wasn't in the paper."
"James and I… well… we talked, before we got anyone else. He doesn't like it, but, well… we were worried about Sirius."
I blink.
"He was Obliviated, wasn't he," I say.
"He was. We want to hold off on releasing any more of the story, for now."
"Sometimes, it's best for the little white lie," I reply. I feel very Dumbledore in saying it, too. "I hadn't really intended it to happen that way."
"And how did you intend for it to happen?" she asks.
"Well… just me and him, really. I just planned on confronting him about it, destroying the Horcruxes, and being on my way. It's just… he deserved it."
"I'm surprised you didn't wear a disguise."
I smile.
"I considered doing it while wearing a Darth Vader mask, actually, but I think Albus would have taken it the wrong way."
She gives a morbidly amused smile.
"You could have gone with a Guy Fawkes mask," says Lily.
That stops me for a moment.
"So you aren't here for revenge?" I ask, carefully.
"Memories are difficult things to edit, and even more difficult to do it well," she says. "Her death was…" Lily falls silent. It's clear she's still hurting, but she presses on. "It wasn't edited, but it wasn't… right."
The memory was clear. It was a death. It was ghostly, strange, but true. It had a sense of truth to it, a sense of horror and bewilderment, surrounded by the wings of someone caring and loving. To say it was both confusing and straightforward is an understatement. So I say something as close to the truth as possible.
"I… she needed to understand. After I took her from that place, she needed to understand, needed to comprehend that someone didn't want to hurt her, actually did care about her. There was no way to get through to her physically. She didn't give a single reaction from any physical touch or action, which surprised me. So I tried mental. I tried as little as possible, I really did, but…"
I stop, and take a moment to centre myself.
"Well, the results were obvious. It happens, with people like us. Someone shows they care, and they can't understand it. They can't accept it. And she was so fragile. So small and fragile, there wasn't anything I could do. There wasn't anything I could hold together, and try to keep."
I don't even realise Lily has come around the desk, until her hand is on my back. I can feel the warmth there, even as I fail to cry.
"Who are you?" she asks, quietly. "Who are you really?"
"I'm Jamie Evans, now, Mrs. Potter. There's nothing left but what I make."
She's quiet for a time.
"And your parents?"
"My father disowned me by blood," I say, the honest truth. "I never knew either of them."
We're both quiet for a time.
"Was there anything else I can help you with, Mrs. Potter?" I ask, trying to move the conversation to something else.
"What happened to Jessica's body?"
"Why?" I ask. "So you can give her an empty grave?"
Lily winces at that.
"We plan on it," says Lily. "Once Sirius' Obvilation is undone, she'll be given a grave. We'd prefer to have a body in it."
I blink at that.
"I'm sorry Mrs. Potter, but I cremated the body. The ashes were spread on a small plot behind my house, and I planted a holly tree on it, and there's a small marker."
It's a lie. A very large lie. The part about the holly tree and the marker is true, though. I did plant one in the backyard, specifically for her. I knew what wand would come into her hands.
She's quiet, silent as she sits down in the chair.
"Give me a moment," I say, and I wandlessly open my office door.
"Mister Malfoy! If you continue to insult my familiar, you will spend several of your upcoming evenings feeding Hagrid's thestrals!"
"Yes, Professor," says Draco, unsure of what I just threatened him with. The door closes, and I return to my conversation.
"We... we'd like to visit. Soon," she says, finally.
"Monday evening?" I ask.
"I'll have to ask James."
I nod.
"So how long will Sirius' Obliviation take to be removed?"
"You've met him. How long do you think? And why do you care so much?"
"So I have a rough estimation of when I need to leave the castle and find a new job."
"You're leaving?"
"Won't I have to?" I ask in reply.
On this, Lily is silent. Good. She doesn't trust me. She's taking this intelligently, so she avoids answering.
"He's started meditating, but he hasn't even found the missing parts of his memories. They're old, and Albus would have done a thorough job. It might be months before he really starts finding his memories."
"Good to know," I say.
Obliviations are tricky things, especially undoing them. Albus, as the castor, could have undone it easily, especially with the Elder Wand, but now that he's dead that avenue is closed. The added problem is that you can't tell the person what the Obliviation is. That guarantees that the person can't properly retrieve the memories. Memories are strange things: knowing the subject causes the brain to fill them in, rather than actually retrieve them. Thus, James and Lily can only state that Sirius was Obliviated, and when he was Obliviated, but can't state why or what the memories were. Add on the fact that it was done with the Elder Wand? It'll be a while. Maybe I'll finish out the year, maybe not.
"I wish him the best of luck. To lose memories like that... I'd murder whoever did it." I shake my head, thinking of James, and change the subject. I'm becoming too maudlin, Hogwarts brings back these kinds of memories. "Was there anything else, Mrs. Potter?"
"Just how is my son doing?" she asks. A question I can answer honestly and easily.
"Decently. His essays need work. I've been meaning to duplicate a few muggle textbooks on essay-writing for some of the pureblood students, just to let them choke on it. I'll have to ask one of my muggleborn students her thoughts on the matter. His practical work is very good, though. I presume he's received outside training?"
"He has a Ministry exemption," replies Lily. There's a kick in the pants if I ever felt one, and one more reason to piss on Dumbledore's grave. "James has been drilling him for the last few years."
"It shows. He's light on theory, at least for Transfiguration, but it's a difficult subject."
"James isn't always the best teacher. I understand you received your mastery?"
"It's required for the job. McGonagall decided to use my interview for the job as my interview for my mastery." I roll my eyes. "I really wasn't expecting to get the position at all. I was hoping I could just disappear amongst the muggles for a few years."
"Why?"
"What the hell did I have in the magical world? No parents, no family, and the stigma of being a muggleborn according to the Ministry. Hell, I might as well be, given that I'm disowned."
"Who were you disowned by?" she asks.
"I can't even say whose family I was once part of, Mrs. Potter. As a member of an ancient family, you should know that."
"You can't even…"
"It's to make sure I can't claim otherwise," I half-mutter, half-growl.
Lily nods.
"Did you even like them?"
"Who?"
"Whoever disowned you."
"Never met them," I replied. My head's running a mile a minute. If McGonagall said anything… then I have to keep to that story. Let it run its course. I am a Parselmouth, after all. "I was raised by some of my parents' relatives. They had… expectations that I either couldn't or didn't want to meet. Tried anyways, for all the good it did." Half-truths, but no lies, I have to wonder if she's seen pictures of Riddle at all.
The way Lily nods suggests she actually was told McGonagall's theory, or she's arrived at it herself.
"What was… what was Jessica like, when you knew her?" she finally asks.
"Broken. There was no other way to describe her. She was a machine, an automaton. She was largely catatonic, only reacting to orders. As soon as I… as soon as I dared to show her that I cared, she just… didn't believe it. It was the straw that broke the camel's back. She just tipped over and never got back up again. The light left, and... and I could feel the bitter chill of her soul leaving. Have you ever been around a Dementor when it's applying the kiss?"
Lily shudders.
"A yes, then. It was... she was like one of those bodies, afterwards. An empty, lifeless shell that hadn't figured out it was a corpse yet."
"I'm surprised you didn't kill us, as well," she says, following a moment of self-disgust.
"Tonks says Harry was a good kid, so I figured I'd give you the benefit of the doubt," I reply. "Dumbledore has his long history of mistakes, if anyone cared to look."
"Really? Such as?"
"Albus had a younger sister, Ariana. When she was six, a group of muggle boys attacked her, assaulting her because she could do magic, and she was a witch, and therefore, she was different. A freak, one might say." It was a low blow, I know. "So her father went out, found the three muggle boys, and killed them. He was sent to Azkaban. Ariana, however, never regained control of her magic. So they kept her at home, hoping she'd get better, but she never did. Soon enough after it happened, the Dumbledore family moved to Godric's Hollow, trying to leave behind the stigma that followed them."
"Albus was a bright young boy, who turned into a bright young man. But with his mother's death by Ariana's uncontrolled magic, he found himself trapped. He was supposed to go off and become a grand sorcerer. He was intelligent, powerful, and full of hope and promise. Instead, he was trapped at home, caring for a sister who was worse than a squib. A broken little girl."
She considers those words, a comparison to her own child.
"Then, he met another bright young man named Gellert."
She's struck by that name.
"You can ask Bathilda Bagshot. She'll tell you they were friends. If you're lucky, she'll mention they might have been more than friends. Albus believed in the power of love. I assume he told you that Remus' love for your children, as though they were his own, was what saved them?"
Lily nodded.
"Albus believed that love has power. That it could conquer all, that it could fix the world's ills. That it would save his sister, that it would save Gellert, that it would even save Voldemort. Except... except after Gellert, he felt his love could only destroy, that his love wasn't pure. So he tried to never love, to never care again."
This isn't true. It's a pretty lie, but I'm more than aware of what Albus' love did to Gellert, just as what his pain and misery did after Ariana. That pain and misery is destroyed. The love, though, is locked away, hopefully to never be seen again.
"When Albus' brother, Aberforth, came home from Hogwarts, he got into an argument with Gellert. Albus joined the argument, and soon wands were drawn. None of them ever said who cast the spell, and I doubt any of them want to remember, but Ariana was dead. Murdered. Albus cast out Gellert, but could not cast him out of his own heart. Aberforth hated Albus, but made sure to keep an eye on him... as family should."
"That's very sad, but what does that have to do with anything?"
"Once Gellert began his reign of terror in Europe, Albus took six years to finally face him, to finally fight the man he counted as his closest friend. During that time... during that time, there was another young boy who needed help, who needed love. Albus met this young boy in an orphanage, and attempted to cow that young boy with power, with fear. Except... that young boy had already tasted power. He already knew fear, and wanted that power, wanted others to fear him. He didn't like people having power over him. He didn't like others having anything over him, so he sought power. He sought power over others, he sought to have them beg and grovel at his feet."
"Voldemort," says Lily.
"Tom Marvolo Riddle," I add. A twitch of my finger shows her the same trick Tom showed me in second year. "I am Lord Voldemort."
I wondered what was going through her head as she looked at those words. She probably knew Bathilda, and would ask her about all of this. The rest? Well, I might be expected to know this.
"Why Evans?"
"It seemed a suitably offensive muggleborn name to pureblood sensibilities," I reply. In reality, it's the only magical name I'm allowed. I'm not an Heir to the Blacks, Harry is. There's some old pureblood and goblin rules here, that Lily isn't aware of, and no one is going to make her aware of anytime soon.
Lily nods, and drops the bombshell that tells me Minerva told.
"You'd have picked Lupin if it weren't line theft."
"Maybe," I reply, a small smile on my face. She really doesn't know. Huh.
She smiles.
"I... I can understand what you did to Albus. That he... that he did that to my daughter... but you're definitely living up to either name. Evans or Lupin."
"Thank you," I reply. It... it feels like validation. Not the best, but the little abused boy in me always looks for approval. Having her approve of me? Well that's heart-warming gold for me.
Lily eventually heads on her way, after chatting about her son and James for a little bit longer. Draco tries to turn in another essay.
"Very good, Mister Malfoy. You're thinking more like a Slytherin in cherry-picking your evidence. Unfortunately, relying entirely on Severus Snape's potions grades does not a good proof make. Let me show you how to lie like a muggle."
It was Mark Twain that said there are lies, damned lies, and statistics. It was Aaron Levenstein, however, that said statistics are like bikinis. What they reveal is suggestive, but what they conceal is vital. Draco, however, has no idea what a bikini is. Which, really, is his problem, not mine.
And no, I will never wear one.
0x0x0x0
Dinner involving Sirius is a chore, apparently. I can completely agree with Snape. He's an arrogant prick. Azkaban, it seems, mellowed the bastard.
He's taken it upon himself to annoy the ever-loving fuck out of me, because he's figured out I like Tonks. I look like I'm taking it well, but only because of how I'm raised. One solid emotionless mask, coming right up.
It started with him ordering clams as an appetizer, combined with a conversation on pearl diving. It went downhill from there.
By the main course, Tonks is pretty uncomfortable, Andromeda and Ted are glaring, and Sirius is continuing blithely onwards like the Titanic into the Arctic Circle.
Dessert is skipped, and Sirius is informed he can get the check.
I wait for him at the path up to Hogwarts.
He's grinning like the fucking idiot he is as he walks up to me.
I deck him. With magical assistance, I break his jaw so I don't have to listen to him talk. A body bind makes sure he can't get away, and I levitate him. The occasional silent Enervate ensures he is awake and in pain.
"Black," I begin. I'm probably speaking with my old voice of command. I used to do this with stupid hit-wizards, and stupider Dark Lords. "I don't know what you were thinking, you stupid little shit, but it clearly wasn't warranted, wanted, or in any way condoned by anyone else there."
There's a grunt of pain.
"I know you're awake, Black. I don't particularly care how you figured out I liked Tonks. In fact, I don't even want to know what convoluted leaps of logic your twisted and idiotic mind used to arrive at that correct solution. I especially don't want to know why the flying fuck it thought your behaviour tonight was a good idea. I suspect there is a complete disconnect between your brain and sense of common decency."
"Whatever your reason, it is clear what your motive is. If you didn't want me around Miss Tonks, fucking say so. You're a goddamn Gryffindor. Be upfront. You are not a Slytherin. Your cunning plans are doomed for failure. I'm well aware that McGonagall has spread about her theory as to who my parents were. Your hatred of all things Slytherin is more than well known. Hell, Snape whines about it every other staff meeting."
The doors to Hogwarts are ripped open by my magic, and I'm pretty sure Sirius can feel the miniature thunder-cloud of my magic. Hell, he can probably see it at this point.
"As Miss Tonks' Head of House, you needed only to state that you did not wish for me to speak with her, instead of ruining a perfectly acceptable friendship. Since you, however, have made your position clear, I accept it. I will cease speaking with Miss Tonks. I will cease any attempt of communication with your entire family, except on professional matters." We stop outside the door to the infirmary. I turn around, lean over him, and really let the power flood my voice. "If you ever tell anyone, especially Tonks, I will kill you. Is that understood?"
He nods, terrified. He can probably feel my voice in his chest.
I drop the levitation charm, and once I'm at the end of the corridor, release the body bind.
It was stupid of me, trying to become friends with Sirius. I'm not Harry anymore, I can't be his friend, or his Godson, or anything else. I head back to my quarters.
I'd drink myself stupid, but I don't want to deal with Draco Malfoy while hungover.