“You know that position is cursed,� my brother, Reynard, had said to me.

He hadn’t been the first one who had said it; I doubted he’d be the last.

I had shrugged, as was my way every time someone said that to me. “It’s a difficult subject to teach. The Dark Arts are dangerous. People get hurt…�

“People die teaching that course!� he said with just a bit more emphasis than was necessary.

“Two people have died. Two,� I repeated, holding two fingers up just in case he didn’t understand the concept of the word ‘two.’ “Professor Zippendorf was at least eighty years old and shouldn’t have been hired in the first place. Professor Thorpe was just bloody stupid.�

“Why do you suppose Zippendorf was hired?� asked Reynard speculatively. “Why in the world would Dumbledore hire a man who—�

I had interrupted him firmly. “Dumbledore always has his reasons. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to prepare not just one syllabus, but seven of them.�

“If I were you, I wouldn’t put ancient Egyptian curses on any of them,� Reynard said, reminding me yet again why Thorpe had died.

“Bugger off, Rey.�

He left, but was laughing as he did.

So, here I was, three hours later, staring at the course requirements that the Headmaster had given me. Basic Theory for the first and second years, though I could introduce a few Dark creatures in the second year: Doxies, for example. The third year seemed to centre on Dark creatures: boggarts, hinkypunks, werewolves, vampires, and the like.

Wait. Was I supposed to find and maintain the creatures I’d need for the class? How else could the children practice their spells? A boggart was no real trouble: a nice trunk would work nicely to contain one. But a hinkypunk? I wasn’t all that happy about having to traipse around the marshes looking for one. Thank goodness the Headmaster wouldn’t expect me to bring in a werewolf. Though, now that I thought about it, maybe I could find a werewolf who might be willing to come in and talk to the classes about what lycanthropy was really like…

No. The parents would not like that idea at all. I snorted to myself. A werewolf at Hogwarts. I was mad for even thinking of it.

The fourth and fifth years would learn about curses and counter-curses. It was a fourth-year Ravenclaw class that had killed Professor Thorpe. Well, it wasn’t the children that did it; it was the small Egyptian figurine that Thorpe had found and brought to class. One would think that a Defence Against the Dark Arts professor would have checked the thing for curses beforehand.

Sixth and seventh years would be learning advanced theory and curses and — I shuddered — about Inferi and Dementors. The sixth years would also be learning about the Unforgivable Curses. Nasty things. Considering that we were only two years from Voldemort’s defeat by a mere toddler, most of the children would already know what those curses were and what they did. Some of the children would have parents who had experienced them first hand — including those who had used them.

Which brought me to another one of Reynard’s teasing-but-not remarks: “How are you going to teach the children of those who killed our sister and her family?�

“It was the parents, not the children,� I had insisted. But I knew I’d be looking at the class lists for the names Malfoy, Black, Rosier, Nott — Travers…

As talented as our sister, Marlene McKinnon, had been it hadn’t been enough to save her. Was Rey right in what he had said? That I was only taking this position because of her? Yes, I suddenly decided. If I could prepare just one child, just one student, to face Dark Magic — and win — that would be enough for me.

With a firm nod, I put my quill aside and picked up the parchment I had been working on. I hoped the Headmaster wasn’t going to regret hiring me because of misspelled words or grammatical errors by his new teacher. I decided to put my work aside for now. In the morning, I’d look over each syllabus one last time to make certain I was pleased, then I’d owl them to Hogwarts.

As I was figuratively straining my shoulder patting myself on the back, my eyes swept over my small bedside table and landed on the small stack of textbooks lying there.

“Oh, Boggarts,� I muttered. I had forgotten I would also send a list of whatever textbooks I would require my students to have. The Headmaster had strongly suggested that I might consider something other than what Thorpe had been using. Apparently, it used nineteenth century vernacular, and was about as exciting as what one would think. In short, it was difficult for the students to read and was deadly dull.

I had found my old textbooks and had been reviewing them. I wondered how many of them were still being published — in newer editions, of course. The problem was, I didn’t have the money to go buy textbooks just to see which one defined “curse� to my satisfaction, or which ones wouldn’t suggest execution as the perfect way to handle a werewolf. I needed to go to the library. Or, maybe…

I went downstairs to the sitting room. Glancing outside, I saw that Reynard was working in our herb garden. Pleased that he was keeping himself busy — and out of my way — I figured now would be the perfect time to contact the Headmaster.

He had told me to use the Floo network for a fire-call, if necessary. So I quickly conjured a fire, tossed a pinch of Floo powder into the fireplace with a flourish, and called, “Hogwarts, Headmaster’s office.�

There was a dizzying moment, and suddenly, I was gazing into Albus Dumbledore’s twinkling blue eyes. “Ah, Professor Moriarty! It’s wonderful to see you!�

The title sent a warm, pleasant thrill down my back. I was a professor. I would be teaching at Hogwarts this year. And, by Merlin, I was not going to be taken in by all that rubbish about the position being cursed…

“What can I do for you?� the Headmaster was asking.

“Oh. Uh…� Quite intelligent speech for a new professor. I pulled myself together. “I’ve been working on my booklist for the students, and I was wondering if the library had newer editions of some of the textbooks that I used when I was at Hogwarts.�

Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. “I cannot say for certain. However, if you’d like to owl me the list of books you’re interested in, I could take it to Madame Pince.�

“Would you?� My relief and enthusiasm bubbled up a little too quickly, and I saw him try to hide a smile. “It would help me greatly.�

“It is no trouble at all, Professor Moriarty. By the way, while you are here, let me ask you a question. Have you worked out how you were going to get the creatures you’ll need for the second and third year students?�

I sighed. “No, sir. I was hoping you would have some ideas as to that.�

“As a matter of fact, I do.�

Of course he did. He was Albus Dumbledore. I just resisted breaking out into laughter.

“Do you remember Remus Lupin?� he asked. “Gryffindor, just two or three years behind you.�

I nodded. I did remember him. I remember that Marlene had mentioned him several times in passing in the year before she died. It seemed like she ran into him a lot.

“He has a way with interesting creatures,� the Headmaster continued. “If you make a list of the creatures you’d like to cover, and when you’re expecting to do so, I can ask Mr Lupin to get them for you. He might even surprise you with a creature or two that you aren’t expecting.�

“As long as it isn’t a basilisk or a sphinx, that would be wonderful,� I told him. Inwardly, I sighed, because that would mean another list that I’d have to make.

“Good!� He rubbed his hands together in satisfaction. He seemed quite pleased with himself for some reason. Because I would get the creatures I wanted? Because Remus Lupin was going to get the job? I had no idea.

“I will send the list of books and creatures to you in the morning,� I said.

He promised me he’d take the booklist to Madame Pince right away, and that he’d speak with Lupin very soon.

So, knees aching from kneeling on the slate hearth, I retreated from the Floo and went into the kitchen to get a cup of tea. It was nearly time for our evening meal, and, of course, Reynard had done nothing.

As I prepared my tea, thoughts of the coming year pushed the thoughts of what to prepare for dinner right out of my head. It was a dream come true, to teach at Hogwarts! But along with that exultation was fear. What if the students didn’t like me? Oh, I know I wasn’t there to be a friend. But what if they really didn’t respect me or like the class? I was realistic enough to know I’d make mistakes, but what if they were huge mistakes? How would I handle the troublemakers? Gideon and Fabian Prewett came to mind, as did James Potter and Sirius Black. Their antics had made me laugh. But now, I was on the other side of the desk, as it were. Would I find those same tricks and pranks amusing?

I slumped down into a chair, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. What if none of my fifth year O.W.L. students or my seventh year N.E.W.T. students passed? What if I wasn’t able to keep up with all the essays? What if I gave too much homework? What if I didn’t give enough? What if I didn’t get along with the other professors?

The kitchen door banged open, making me jump several inches off the seat of the chair.

“Hey, Cass,� Reynard said, smiling. Before I could say anything, his smile disappeared. “What’s wrong?�

I couldn’t help the tears that sprang to my eyes. “I think I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life. How could I think that I’d be able to teach at Hogwarts?�

There are times when my brother knows how to say the right thing. Those times are few and far between, but when they come… well, let’s just say it’s like eating something sweet after eating something salty. It’s exactly what you need at that moment. And he came through with flying colours for me.

“Sis,� he began as he sat down in the chair next to mine and put his hand over my clenched fist. “You have dreamed about this since you were a little girl. We used to play ‘Hogwarts’ when we were little: I was the student, you the professor… You’re smart, you’re talented, you know how to think on your feet. And, Merlin knows, every child that ever meets you loves you. You’ve taught for two years at Madame Zelda’s Elementary School, and hasn’t it gone well?�

He waited for me to nod.

“Madame Zelda even gave you a recommendation, right?�

Again, I had to nod.

“And didn’t Dumbledore say that he was fortunate to find someone with your qualifications and your capabilities?�

“Yes, but—�

“No, Cass. There’s no ‘but’ here. He knows you can do it. Madame Zelda knows you can do it. Even I know you can do it.� He chuckled. “I know I’ve been teasing you about this, but I’m only doing it because I know you’re going to do wonderfully. You’re going to be a great professor. Trust me.�

“You really think so?� How could someone with my qualifications and capabilities be so bloody insecure?

“I know so,� he said, grinning broadly.

We sat there for a moment, just staring at each other. Then I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and stood up. “I suppose dinner won’t make itself.�

Reynard laughed. “No. But, you know what? Let me do it tonight. I know you’ve got booklists to work on, and you said you were going to go through your teaching robes tonight to see if you were going to need new ones.�

I felt my left eyebrow rise. “And what do I have to do for you then?�

“Nothing!� he laughed, making shooing motions with his hands. “Go! Get out of here!�

I reluctantly headed for the doorway as he went to the cupboard and started rooting around for something to eat. But there was one thing I needed to say.

“Rey?�

He glanced over his shoulder at me. “What?�

“Thank you.�

Again, he grinned. “No problem, sis. I’m just glad I could be here in these rare moments of crisis.�

This time I returned the smile.

“Yeah, don’t let it get to you, sis,� he continued, turning back to the cupboard. “You’re only going to be there for a year. That position’s cursed, you know.�

I stuck my tongue out at him, though he couldn’t see it, but he was laughing anyhow.

As I headed up the stairs, I couldn’t help but chuckle too. I had a good feeling about this. I just knew I’d break the supposed curse on that job. Nobody had been able to hold it for more than a year for the past thirty years? I’d prove them wrong. It would be a fabulous year. I’d charm the faculty. I’d amaze the students...

I’d be there next year if it killed me…