No one knew how it had happened, least of all not Severus Snape. One moment, he was bleeding out onto the floor of an old abandoned building; the next he was reinstated to his old Defense Against the Dark Arts post with a name so clear that it had an Order of Merlin, First Class to show for it.

At the current moment, however, Snape was sitting in the faculty lounge alongside Minerva McGonagall, still headmistress of Hogwarts eleven years after the fall of Voldemort. Snape’s own promotion to the position of deputy headmaster meant that instead of grading essays or beginning new lesson plans, he was stuck here, awaiting what would almost certainly be a tedious interview for the newly-reopened position of Muggle Studies professor.

After Voldemort’s fall, the Ministry of Magic and Professor McGonagall both agreed that to promote magical awareness of Muggle achievement, Muggle Studies would become a part of the mandatory curriculum for first- through fourth-years at Hogwarts. The position had immediately been filled by a Muggle-born named Alicia MacQueen; however, Alicia had recently married a French wandmaker whose work was becoming increasingly well-known. She was moving to France to live with her husband and teach at Beauxbatons Academy, and now Snape was drumming his fingers on the table while rereading the first resumé to come in by owl post.

Snape looked up at the grandfather clock along the adjacent wall. Nine fifty-nine. In less than sixty seconds, Mrs. – what was it? – Ivy Freeman would be late.

At exactly nine fifty-nine and thirty-eight seconds (Snape had taken to counting), Ivy Freeman walked through the door.

Ivy was nearly as tall as Snape with a wiry build and thin face. She brushed her long, dark red curls, the right side of which were streaked with white, away from her face and checked her watch. She spoke with an American accent. “Am I – ? Oh, dead, of course.� She sighed and smiled. “Unfortunate side effect of a non-magic background, I suppose, that none of the electrical equipment crosses over. Anyway, I’m Ivy Freeman.� She extended her hand for McGonagall to shake.

“Minerva McGonagall. We’ve been in contact.�

“Of course,� Ivy replied. She turned to Snape. “And you would be Severus Snape?�

“Your skills of observation are positively blinding,� Snape answered dryly. He did not take her hand.

The woman’s ice-blue eyes flashed. “Yes, well, I figure that the ability to put two and two together is a skill highly valued in professors,� she said. “My skill set also includes inductive reasoning, from which I gather you’ve received my resume and have a few questions about it. Ask away.� Her voice had hardened, but she was still smiling. She turned to McGonagall.

“Well, yes, we do have a few questions. Your credentials seem to be in order: you were a physics professor at a Muggle university for eighteen years. You have lived among Muggles, learned their history, their science, their culture,� McGonagall said. “The one thing I don’t see here is your magical credentials. There are no records of you at the wizarding academy in Salem or from the American Ministry of Magic. Are you –� she paused delicately, “A Squib?�

Ivy bit her lip and looked down. McGonagall continued: “You see, we’re just concerned about your ability to control a class of witches and wizards. Without magic, well….�

“Oh, I didn’t say that I didn’t have powers,� Ivy said. Snape raised an eyebrow. “Fine,� she said. “I’ll go into the next room. Whisper amongst yourselves, and from the other room, I’ll tell you what you’ve been saying.� With that, she walked out and closed the door.

“This is absurd,� Snape said, not bothering to lower his voice. “What is this, a Muggle parlor-trick?�

“That’s not lowering your voice,� said Ivy. Oddly, it sounded as though it was coming from within the room.

“Is she in here?� McGonagall whispered. “Invisible, do you think?�

“Nope,� the voice answered. “Not invisible. Still outside. Ask the witch in the painting of the rose garden. I’m talking to her, too, you know.�

“What sort of spell are you using?� McGonagall asked at her normal volume.

“No spell. I’m manipulating the air molecules in your room to vibrate at the pitch of my voice,� Ivy said. “Likewise, I can hear what you’re saying because my ears are sensitive to the vibration your voices make when you speak. I can also hear all of your movements, or at least roughly estimate the by the small currents you make. See, right now, Professor McGonagall, you’ve just scooted out your chair slightly.�

McGonagall froze, as she had just done exactly that. She continued pushing her chair out and walked over to the door. She quickly pulled it open to show Ivy in conversation with the witch in the painting of the rose garden. Snape followed McGonagall into the hallway.

“Has she been out here the whole time?� McGonagall asked the painted witch.

“Oh, well, certainly,� the witch answered. “We’ve been having a right nice conversation. Fine lady, she is.�

“Then…?� McGonagall’s voice trailed off.

“Multitasking,� Ivy explained with a smirk directed at Snape. “Part of my skill set. Anything else you need to know?�

Snape looked from Ivy to McGonagall, and between the confident look on the former’s face to the impressed look on the latter’s, he knew that this insufferable redheaded woman had got the position.

With Ivy Freeman, two had come for slightly more than the price of one. Upon receiving the news that she had secured the Muggle Studies position, Professor Freeman had asked Professor McGonagall about the possibility of her daughter Alexis coming in as an aid to all of the professors, doing odd jobs and organizing papers in return for room and board. Ivy explained that Alexis had had some sort of run-in with a gang back in America while working as an English professor, forcing them both to leave the country. Bleeding-heart Gryffindor that she was, Professor McGonagall had agreed to give Alexis the position for a month, which would be extended if she proved helpful to the school’s professors.

Snape had seen Alexis only once before the start of the school year. She was carrying a box of papers for her mother when she and Neville Longbottom, carrying a large potted Mimbulus Mimbletonia, collided in the middle of one of the corridors.

“Oh, dear,� said Longbottom, pulling out his wand to repair the pot, which had shattered upon hitting the floor. “I’m sorry, I –�

“It’s fine,� said Alexis. She waved her hand and the excess dirt swirled back into the pot, neatly covering the plant’s roots. “I should have been watching where I was going. I can be a total klutz sometimes – most of the time. I’m Alexis Freeman, by the way.�

“Neville Longbottom, Herbology professor. So you’re the new teachers’ assistant?�

“Yes. Just tell me if you need anything…I don’t know, weeded or organized? Anything, really. I’m here to help.�

“Oh. Of course,� said Longbottom. “See you round.�

“Nice meeting you.� She gathered up her papers, and they both continued in their own directions. Alexis gave Snape a quick smile as she passed him. She had shoulder-length dark brown hair and bright blue eyes, although in hers a softness replaced the icy, piercing sensation that characterized her mother. Snape had only seen such softness in one other pair of eyes before, but those eyes had been green, not blue. As much as he hated to admit to himself, the kindness in Alexis Freeman’s eyes and in what little he had seen of her behavior reminded him painfully of Lily Evans.

* * *

When Snape reached the sign-up sheet for Alexis’s aid, he found himself unable to schedule a time with her for the next two days. Longbottom and Hagrid seemed to have the most work for her to do, then her mother, although Snape noticed that McGonagall, Slughorn, and Trelawney had signed the sheet as well. Snape signed her up for two hours in his room for the coming Thursday.

Meanwhile, student conversation was abuzz with news of the pretty twenty-something who could do magic without a wand. Whenever Snape passed Alexis in a hallway full of students, the boys often turned to look at her, and once, he had seen a small crowd gathered round her, the students all craning their necks to watch as she held a ball of fire in her hand.

Snape turned to break up the crowd, but Filch got there first.

“What’s going on here?� Filch asked. The students scattered, and the flames disappeared.

“I was just showing them something,� Alexis replied. “I’m sorry; I won’t do it again. I wasn’t aware that I was breaking any rules.�

“You’re clogging the halls,� Filch growled. “Now move a—�

Filch’s cat, Mrs. Norris, had come from around a corner, a dead rat in her mouth. She darted up to Alexis and dropped the rat at her feet, lowering her torso in what looked to Snape remarkably like a bow.

“Why, thank you,� Alexis said. She curtsied to the cat, who began weaving between her legs.

“Well, I never…� said Filch. “Mrs. Norris likes you!�

“Oh, is that her name?� Alexis bent down to scratch the cat’s ears. Alexis shrugged. “I’ve always been a cat person.�

“Yeah, come…� Filch tried to pull the cat away from Alexis; it didn’t want to go. “I’ll let you get on your way, then.� Filch bowed jerkily, then continued down the hall with a loudly miawling Mrs. Norris. Alexis smiled at him and waved goodbye. She picked up the rat and nearly collided with Snape when she turned around.

“Oh!� she said. “I’m sorry. You’re Professor Snape, right?�

“Yes.�

“I think I’m signed up to help you tonight. Was it seven-thirty…?�

“Seven-fifteen,� Snape replied brusquely. “Don’t be late.� With that he turned and strode away, leaving Alexis with a look of surprise on her face and a dead rat dangling from her hand.

* * *

Alexis arrived at the classroom of Severus Snape at exactly seven fourteen p.m. The door was open, but she knocked lightly anyway.

“Well, are you awaiting an engraved invitation?� Snape snapped. “Come in. You are very nearly late.�

But I’m not late, she thought. Her mother and many of the students had warned her about the sallow man with the dark, stringy hair and the dour personality. She had told herself that Snape couldn’t be nearly as horrible as they made him out to be, but he seemed determined to prove her wrong.

“You,� he said, “are going to organize summer essays. They’ve been graded; I want them according to year in ascending order, then according to house. Spread them out along those back tables.�

Alexis was horrified, but not by the work required. The work, she expected. But Snape could not have possibly graded his papers in such a fashion so as to leave them all in one heterogeneous pile that would require separation; it made no sense. No, Snape had fabricated work for her to do, and he had made it as tedious as possible.

What was worse was that he hadn’t left a record of what assignment went with which year. She could feel him watching her realize this, but she refused to give him the pleasure of having to tell her which assignments were the more difficult, as if she couldn’t tell the difference herself. Not to be caught struggling, she immediately set out to separate the assignments, judging by length, difficulty, and sophistication of writing how old the students were.

Within half an hour, Alexis had separated the essays by year into something like ascending order. Unfortunately, none of the students had written the house to which they belonged on their essays. When she opened her mouth to ask to see some class lists, Snape rose from behind his desk and walked out of the room.

Fine, she thought. I’ll figure them out myself. If I’m wrong, he can damn well correct me.

She began with the students that she had met while here, most of whom were Ravenclaws. For them, she made Ravenclaw piles within their respective years, and upon recognizing some of the names and putting the name with the year, she at least confirmed that she had properly matched the essay assignments with the right years. She recognized a few Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, and one Slytherin, and so made piles for those houses as well.

When she had run out of students whose names she recognized, she began to stare at the remaining papers. She had been an English professor; could she try to pick out which house each student was in by the way he or she wrote? She sighed and discarded the idea; it would take too much time, and even then, she still might be wrong.

After ten more minutes of staring at the graded papers in front of her, Alexis began to notice something about the ink that the grades were scrawled in. In the dim light, she hadn’t noticed it before, but the grades were written in different colors on different papers. She soon made out four colors: dark red, forest green, navy blue, and deep ochre, which when cross-referenced with the students whose names she recognized confirmed that the ink colors corresponded to Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff.

Alexis was just straightening up the piles that she had made when Snape returned with a mug of tea.

“Well?� he asked. Alexis gestured to the twenty-eight neat piles before him. She half held her breath as he flipped through each pile, frowning but unable to reprimand her. “Fine,� he said. “But next time, organize each class by alphabetical order. You may go.�

“Yes, sir,� Alexis replied, ready to tell him what he could do with his alphabetical order.