Prologue



Out of the velvet darkness of a London alley, a man jumped out and promptly crashed to the ground.

“I hate it,� he spluttered as he struggled to stand up. “I hate Apparition!�

No one was there to listen to his complaint, which came as a relief to him. He wouldn’t have wanted anybody to witness his less-than-graceful manner of Apparating. He’d nearly flunked the test at age seventeen, but with a smirk, he remembered how he’d tricked the Ministry official into thinking he had landed on his feet at the stipulated spot, rather than the knees, twenty feet away. For that was his specialty, tricking people; making them believe with a simple flick of his wand that they had seen and heard things they had neither seen nor heard, or that they had never seen nor heard things they had actually seen and heard. That was how he’d become famous in the magical world of Great Britain and abroad, winning the Order of Merlin, Third Class, and Witch Weekly’s Most Charming Smile Award no less than five times!

In fact, he thought, his face now splitting into a grin that showed nearly all of his perfect white teeth, I’ve just gone and done it again, haven’t I?

The problem with being a famous writer (one who chronicled his own victories against dark forces) was that people always wanted to read more. His fans were crazy about his brave exploits. But there were only so many real heroes he could steal the stories from, so many witches and wizards who had the courage to battle banshees and hags and trolls and vampires and ghouls and what not. For some time, he’d been forced to rest on his laurels (not that he was going to run out of favour with his fans for a while--he still had that smile!), though he hadn’t been idle. He was always on the lookout for gullible magical folk who had more guts than him.

To his delight, two months before, rumours had begun to surface of a wild witch getting rid of about three dozens of Inferi somewhere in the north of Wales. He had wasted no time. Assuming a false identity, he’d hurried to the village and started his investigation. The witch had been easy to find.

And what a witch she was. He had to admit that he’d almost fallen for her. If it hadn’t been for the fact that his own interests must be given precedence above all else, why! He’d have proposed to her. Although she’d been described as “wild�, she’d been wild in an irresistibly voluptuous way, with her teasing cleavage, fashionably ripped robes, tall red shoes, and the enormous head of brown hair. After weeks of flirting, he’d ended up in her cottage earlier that same evening and listened to her thrilling tale over a glass of the most delectable red wine.

“I shall go and get the Spag Bol ready,� she’d said.

He’d nodded eagerly. As soon as she’d left for the kitchen, he’d started to think of a title for his next book. “Something that begins with the letter i,� he’d muttered to himself. His eye had roamed to her modest library in search of inspiration, and found a rather suitable sample. “Interview with the Inferi,� he said cautiously, as though tasting the sound of it. “Good. Very good.�

Unable to hold his excitement, he’d gone to the kitchen and cast a Memory Charm, sacrificing for the greater good the drink and shenanigans he’d been secretly looking forward to. Then, he’d Disapparated. He was so excited that, instead of heading for his own house, he was going to pay his publishers a visit. They worked late into the night; their office would still be open. But as he turned into a corner, he found himself face to face with the one person he’d made sure not to meet again as long as he lived.

“Going somewhere, Gilderoy?� she asked him with a smile. “If you didn’t like the wine that much, you could have just told me, you know.�

“I--I--� he stammered. “H-hello, again, D-Dora. I’m sorry I left like that. I ... Something important came up.�

How the hell had she managed to recover from his charm?

“Ah, I see.� She raised her wand and ran its tip along his jaw. He swallowed, and then laughed nervously. “Something important? Like rushing off to your agent to discuss the prospects of--what was that? Oh yes, Interview with the Inferi!�

“For you,� he said quickly. His wand was deep inside his azure robes; there was no way he could get it out on time, and even if he did, he was sure she’d get to him first. She was the one who had removed almost forty Inferi single-handedly, not him. “I was going to tell them about you.�

“I believe you,� she said. She sounded serious. “You recall everything that I told you about my “interview� with the Inferi, don’t you?�

He nodded.

“Then, you remember how I finished them off.�

“Y-yes.�

“How did I finish them off, Gilderoy?�

An image flared up in his head: long, thin lassos of fire enveloping the mass of undead bodies.

“P-please,� he begged. “You must understand. I had no choice.�

“I think you did. I think you always had a choice, you sad, pathetic excuse for a human being.� Ignoring his protests, she raised her wand.

“You can’t kill me!� he yelped.

“I have no intentions of murdering you,� she told him, as two thin but strong ropes flew around his body to tie him up. “You may be a vile bastard, but you don’t deserve to die like this. I’m only taking you to the Aurors.�

“But I have to teach at Hogwarts this year!� he protested. “Albus Dumbledore has already accepted my letter. Think of the chances you’re depriving the school, the education you’re robbing the students of! Surely, they can benefit if I--�

“You’re teaching at Hogwarts?� she asked, her voice sharp. “Which subject?�

“Defence against the Dark Arts.�

Her eyes widened, whether in shock or disbelief, he couldn’t tell. “I see,� she said, and with a chuckle she released him from the Entrapment Charm. “Then I shall let you go, Gilderoy. I want to know how the school ejects its Defence teacher next June, especially if it’s you who’s going to be ejected.�

And with that, she was gone, her laughter still buzzing around his ear like an annoying mosquito.

Chapter 1: Fresh Queen of Hogwarts



The year was 2013; the month, September; the time, morning. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had welcomed its students, both new and old, with a grand feast the previous night. It was now filling up their tummies with a lovely breakfast, preparing them for their first classes of the term.

Hogwarts had undergone a lot of changes since the Battle of 1998. Oh, the Great Hall’s ceiling still mimicked the sky’s moods; the house tables were left intact. But it was now more common to see students of different houses sitting on the same table, sharing a pint of pumpkin juice. The Headmaster’s chair was occupied by Filius Flitwick, not Minerva McGonagall, who had retired, while a young, nervous looking man sat on Pomona Sprout’s usual seat. One more chair had been added, which was presently empty. A few students would often stare at their new Herbology professor with interest, as their friends scratched their head over the vacant spot. Usually, they ignored the teachers, preferring to catch up with news, discuss the lessons, or just eat and drink.

Before the previous night’s welcoming feast had commenced, Professor Flitwick had made announcements of what to expect that year, as was the tradition of the school. The race for the Quidditch Cup would happen in due course, points would be won as lost as per the students’ behaviour, and Neville Longbottom--most of the students had gasped at the name--would be taking over the position of Herbology professor. In the tumult caused by this last information, many had missed the final announcement: Hogwarts was offering culinary classes at last, and they’d hired a witch for the job. Interested students could apply for the class anytime they were free the next day. They only had to be in their fifth year or above.

Those who had missed the news had been filled in by their friends, and soon, the excited chatters about a big war hero joining the school were replaced by curious discussions about the new subject and the professor, who’d been absent during the feast. In Hufflepuff, quite a lot of people were planning to apply, since theirs was a house famed for their love of food and merrymaking; in Slytherin, only the most ambitious and most devious of students were seriously contemplating the matter inside their head (for they didn’t want to sound too thrilled about kitchen-work, but who knew what could be achieved with the power of fabulous cooking skills?); in Ravenclaw, most were wary of having to drop a subject for its sake, although they were prepared to agree that delicious food surely added a better flavour to life than, say, Arithmancy; in Gryffindor, those who had made up their mind to take on the subject did so to fulfil a dare. (Timothy Grass had bet Morgan McLaggen that she couldn’t bake to save her life; Morgan had retorted that Timothy couldn’t fry an egg to save his. Supporters of the two pigheaded Gryffindor Quidditch beaters had instantly jumped into the back-and-forth of “you couldn’t fill-in-the-blank-with-some-cooking-related-activity to save your life�, and from there on, the challenge spread through the common room like Fiendfyre, until half of the hot-headed Gryffindors in the fifth year and above had resolved to show their peers that they could conquer the art within mere weeks.)

That was why Neville Longbottom had to share the attention of the students with the conspicuous absence two chairs to his left. But where was this mysterious addition to the Hogwarts staff?

She was currently trapped in an incredibly deep alcohol-induced stupor at the Three Broomsticks. A cousin of Madam Rosmerta’s, barmaid of the popular Hogsmeade pub, she’d declined to join the welcoming feast at the school in favour of a “quiet� night at her cousin’s. As soon as she’d hugged her cousin, she’d declared, “You need a wine taster�, and in spite of Rosmerta’s insistence that her wine collection was fine and she didn’t need to take the trouble, she’d proceeded towards the cellar and launched into a wine-tasting spree. Hence, the incredibly deep alcohol-induced stupor. Hence, the sharp poke that Rosmerta was presently bestowing upon her arm.

“Mmmpf.�

Another poke was administered, a little harder this time.

“OW!� she yelled.

“Oi!� cried Rosmerta. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the school?�

“Oh, bloody hell! Where’s my suitcase? I need to change my clothes. Still in my PJ’s. Oh, Christ!�

Pronouncements such as these flowed from her mouth in an uninterrupted fashion for the next few minutes. Rolling her eyes, Rosmerta left her to it and went downstairs to make tea, without which--she’d been made to understand--her cousin couldn’t function for the rest of the day. “PG Tips,� she muttered, staring at the packet that had been handed to her the previous evening. “Looks Muggle.�

Rosmerta’s cousin, who had been selected from scores of applicants for the Hogwarts job, was officially returning to the wizarding world after years of disappearing with the use of disguises. Her erratic and deceitful lifestyle had helped her elude the Death Eaters when they rose again. Having been a loud supporter of Muggleborns and Muggles the last time she’d been living as herself, they’d tried to find her. She’d proved too smart for then, though. It was rumoured that she’d slipped into the Battle to fight the forces of evil. However, no one remembered seeing her, or maybe they did see her but failed to recognise who she was. Calendora, on her part, never brought up the topic in her letters.

If truth be told, Rosmerta had doubted she’d ever turn up again in the magical world, and yet there she was, about to immerse herself at Hogwarts, where thousands upon thousands of witches and wizards gathered. (The math, Rosmerta knew, was somewhat screwed, yet it sounded impressive.) Perhaps, she’d realised she belonged to this way of living, among those who lived with wands. Isn’t home truly where the heart is and vice versa?

“Bollocks,� Calendora said as she finished her tea. “I returned because no one makes Spaghetti Bolognese better than me. Those kids ought to learn from the master chef.�

As usual, Rosmerta knew she was speaking as she did by habit, her words covering what she had on her mind. As Calendora walked out of the pub, clad in jeans and a T-Shirt that bore the title “Gift of the Gods�, Rosmerta suspected the really reasons that had brought her cousin back would remain a mystery.




“We will miss you, Gilderoy.�

Gilderoy Lockhart was preparing to leave St. Mungo’s. According to the Healers, he now possessed full control of his mental faculties. He could recount each of the adventures that had produced his best-selling books, and had regained his magical abilities. His old personality, however, had toned down to a degree; his teeth, for example, had turned yellowish, due to neglecting his Teeth Whitening Charm for nearly two decades. There was something strange about his eyes too. They seemed to glint with a spark unlike his old confidence. Those who tended to him couldn’t agree on what it could mean. Was it grief? Loss? A desire to return to his heroic days, a desire that burnt with a quiet flame? In the end, they stopped wondering. It didn’t matter what it could mean as long as it gave him that appealing broody look.

“Thank you, ever so much,� he said, flashing them all his most charming smile, the one that had fetched him accolades. “I shall miss you all, too. But, as you know, I must go. Though the last War ended years ago, the dark forces never rest. I must get out and do what I can to eradicate them.�

“Of course, Gilderoy!�

Bouquets of flowers and good luck cards were pressed into his ever-ready arms as he left the hospital. His smile nary wavered, disappearing completely only when he was back in his old house. He deposited the gifts, furrowed his eyebrows and poured himself a glass of Ogden’s Old Firewhisky.


There were only four people left who knew about his old secret. Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, to whom he had revealed his modus operandi, and their friend, Hermione Weasley, by association. (The marriage of the latter two astounded him when he first read it in the papers. Really?! From what he recalled of his days as Professor at Hogwarts, he considered Hermione to be a sensible, intelligent student, and Ronald Weasley as the meddlesome kid whose Spellotaped wand ruined his career and sabotaged his chance at writing Champion of the Chamber of Secrets--which, admittedly, wasn’t his best title, but would have been the most successful of his wildly popular books.)

How to modify their opinion of him? Gilderoy already had a plan. An elaborate plan that could go wrong if he wasn’t careful. It involved working one highly controversial and dangerous individual. Even so, they wasn’t his primary concern. No, Gilderoy’s biggest fear centred on the fourth person who could expose him. Her.

“Blast,� he muttered.

Potter may have defeated You-Know-Who, and his friends may be war heroes, but it was that bloody witch that made his knees tremble. The three of them were still visible, still within his reach if he so wished to change their memories. She, on the other hand, wasn’t as easy to find. True, she hadn’t bothered him after their last night in the alley, but he was convinced she was out there, somewhere, a living threat to his success. Why had she let him go? Because he was going to teach at Hogwarts. Defence Against the Dark Arts. He hadn’t managed to escape the old curse; he’d lost his job at the end of the year.

Was that a sufficient enough punishment for her? Gilderoy doubted it. Interview with the Inferi was her tale, after all. But who and where was she? Was she even alive?

He finished his glass of the Firewhisky and poured himself another.

Perhaps, he reasoned, the drink pumping in the confidence he sorely needed, perhaps, it didn’t matter if she knew. Back when he’d gone searching for her at the village in Wales, he’d carefully altered the memories of the witches and wizards he’d spoken to, so that, gradually, they had forgotten the role she’d played in banishing the Inferi. Once his plan for Potter and his friends was carried out, they would have no reason to oppose him.

Who would the wizarding population believe then? Famed author, Order of Merlin-awardee Gilderoy Lockhart, or a dizty-looking witch no one had heard of?

Let her come out of her hidey-hole, he thought with some satisfaction. I’ll find a way to get rid of her once and for all.

Chapter 2: Spring Croll



Teddy Lupin, Hufflepuff Prefect and resident Metamorphmagus, was sniggering.

The Hufflepuff fifth-years had been grouped with Gryffindors, which meant that Timothy Grass and Morgan McLaggen were in the same Magical Cookery class as he. It was a source of endless wonder to him that these two, who as Beaters for the same Quidditch team were required to work together on the pitch, appeared to hate each other’s guts outside of it. After years of sharing classes and watching their antics, Teddy was well-acquainted with their mutual animosity, and though he was a Prefect now and could stop things from escalating if their argument fell to duelling, he’d rather let them bicker in the vicinity and enjoy the constant stream of threats and insults.

“... and I swear you looked like a love-struck rabbit, with your pointed nose sniffing the grass.�

“Oh shut it, Morgan. With a face like that, one would think your mother mated with Doxies.�

Yes, Teddy did feel a twinge of guilt over enjoying this, but only a twinge.

“It was my uncle who ate the Doxy eggs on a dare!� hissed McLaggen. “Not my father!�

“Feck and Begorrah!� Grass exclaimed, making even Teddy grimace. For some reason, Grass was wont to affect Irishness, although he didn’t have a single drop of Irish blood running in his veins. “Really? No wonder your family’s thought of as thick and idi-�

He didn’t get to finish the sentence; McLaggen, although a girl, was a tall, athletic girl, and she had pounced, pinning him to the ground. Immediately, the class was in an uproar, urging the wrestling students on, and Teddy, although further amused by the fight, nevertheless got up and yelled, “All right! That’s enough. Knock it off, you two!�

When neither McLaggen nor Grass heeded his words, Teddy drew his wand and readied to force them apart, but before he could utter an incantation, the wrestlers were thrown off each other.

“Hand-to-hand combat instead of duelling?� said a mocking voice right next to him. “Well, well, well. We’re making progress.�

The students turned around and gasped. Teddy blinked. Even McLaggen and Grass went silent and stared. Standing among them was the oddest creature they’d laid eyes on in their life at Hogwarts. It was a woman, wearing tight blue jeans and a fitted shirt, her head adorned by wild, violently pink hair. She looked like a Muggle who had strayed into the school, which understandably provoked a student into asking, “Who are you?�

“You’ll find out soon enough,� said the woman, as she turned her back on them and moved towards the teacher’s desk, “but first, settle down. All of you. Return to your seats. Lupin, you may close your mouth.�

Teddy blushed, then wondered how she knew his name.

“My name,� she said, as a chalk flew up towards the blackboard behind the word and started scratching letters, “is Calendora Dean Beacon. I am your Magical Cookery professor. Welcome to your first Magical Cookery class. Today, we won’t be dealing with knives and spoons; we’ll warm up to the subject instead. You will each get a copy of the text which we’ll refer to for our practical lessons--I’m giving them away free of charge to celebrate the momentous occasion of instructing young witches and wizards in the maligned art of kitchen-work , so worry not, Grass, you won’t have to cough up any Galleons. Now, time for a roll-call. I’d like to find out your names, though I can already predict which families some of you might belong to. For example, Grass there.�

A stack of books materialised on her desk. With her wand, she directed a copy towards each student as they answered her roll-call. When it was Teddy’s turn, he felt her gaze linger on him before moving on quickly with a slight shake of her head. Frowning, he turned towards his copy. The title read “Shut up & Cook: A Beginner’s Guide to the Art of Creating Culinary Brilliance�. Teddy flicked through the first few pages and watched animated cartoons chopping onions, carving meat, kneading dough and other such activities. He shut the book again and checked who the author was: Crollega Dawson.

“Professor?� said Melissa Carmichael, raising her hand.

“Yes?�

“Is this author the same person who hosted “Spring Rolls Galore�?�

“Why, yes.�

Teddy thought the professor’s lips twitched.

“My Dad’s a Muggle, and he watches reruns of Ms Dawson’s show on the TV. He got a similar book for my mother last Christmas, but that one doesn’t have these ... moving drawings.�

“How odd.�

Now, she was definitely trembling with mirth.

“Uhm. Yeah, I suppose. It’s just ...� Melissa trailed off, looking confused. “Is Ms Dawson a witch, then?�

“Ms Dawson,� said the professor, suddenly straightening up and, in Teddy’s opinion, managing to hide her secret amusement exceedingly well, “who has left her TV career, as of now, is indeed a witch. She was forced to assume a different identity to escape death at the hands of the Death Eaters.�

“Was she a Muggleborn?� asked Harish Dwivedi.

“No,� she answered. “But she was always rather loud about her love for Muggles. Observe the back of the cover.�

Like his classmates, Teddy turned to the back of his copy’s cover and watched a witch’s portrait form on the previously blank surface. It was a woman with sleek blond hair and an ample bosom (he blushed again), smirking up at him. Though he’d never seen her before, there was something very familiar about the way she suppressed her smile.

“Is this Dawson?� McLaggen muttered. “Those are awesome boobs.� The rest of the Gryffindors tittered.

“Awesome?� said the professor, who had apparently heard. “I do hate that word, but for once, I agree with its usage. Five points to Gryffindor.�

McLaggen grinned.

“But I don’t want to encourage discussion of breasts or bums in my class, so five points from Gryffindor.�

“What!� cried McLaggen indignantly.

Professor Beacon ignored her. “Cooking,� she said, getting off her dais and walking among them, “is a misunderstood art form. Most of us tend to think of it as a chore, revering it only as long as it’s somebody else’s hands preparing the meal. And, guess what, that notion isn’t entirely wrong. It does get annoying if you have to cook every day, feeding lord knows how many children--yes, you do have to think of the children, in the end--but cooking can be quite fun. It can relax your mind, and few things can give you as much happiness as watching others heartily devour something made by you.�

Immediately, the smell of his grandmother’s chocolate cake, Teddy’s favourite, washed over him. Puzzled, he looked around for its source (for he was certain he wasn’t at his grandmother’s kitchen, but Professor Trelawney’s former classroom), and saw his friend, Fatima Khan, sniffing.

“D’you smell it too?� he whispered. “The chocolate cake?�

“Hmm?� she said distractedly. “It’s mutton biryani, isn’t it?�

Teddy gaped at her. His nose had never confused mutton biryani with chocolate cake before. “Pretty sure it’s cake,� he insisted.

“What do you smell, Golompierre?� Professor Beacon was asking.

Greco Golompierre went pink. “Escargot.�

“Armitage?�

“Roast lamb with mint sauce, Ma’am.�

“McLaggen?�

“Chicken fricassee.�

“Grass?�

“Irish stew.�

“Carmichael?�

“Welsh rarebit.�

“Jones?�

“Uhm ... fish burger.�

“Dwivedi?�

“Palak paneer.�

“And yet,� Professor Beacon concluded, “it’s chocolate cake for Lupin, and mutton biryani for Khan. Forget the variety for a moment. Does what you smell happen to be your favourite food?� When the class murmured yes, she continued. “How do you feel when someone presents your favourite food to you, nicely done and ready to eat? In fact,� she twirled her wand, “how do you feel now?�

A slice of Andromeda Tonks’ chocolate cake appeared on Teddy’s desk at the same time a bowl of mutton biryani popped up on Fatima’s. Teddy’s mouth started watering, but before he could check if it was just an illusion (which he suspected it was, since Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfiguration dictated that food cannot be conjured), it disappeared anyway, along with the delicious smell.

“How do you feel?� she asked again. There was no response; the class seemed to understand it was a rhetorical question. “Do any of you know how you to prepare your favourite food?� Silence reigned. “Imagine being able to make it whenever you wish. Imagine doing it for someone, surprising them in the morning with a full English breakfast, with nothing burnt. You see, anyone can boil a few eggs, spread butter on toast and call it a meal. When you’re famished, it might do. But coming up with something that takes effort, something that will put a smile on the face of others, make them eager to eat it, that is no mere chore. That is when cooking becomes art.�

She paused. Then, as though realising she’d gone too deep for her own comfort, she coughed and assumed her normal, sort-of-mocking tone. “While I can’t guarantee that your ability to make nice steak will land you a date with that fit lead guitarist of Equally Weird Brothers, I assure you it’s an enviable talent that will serve you well in life. Remember that we human beings take food seriously. We live to eat.�

The students were still quiet, unsure whether to laugh or not. “What a ghastly bunch!� she snapped. “It won’t hurt you to chortle in a while. You’ll need your sense of humour in the coming days. We’re going to learn how to chop, skin, peel, carve, grind, mash, steam, fry, braise, roast, poach, and bake. By the end of the year, I expect you to make your favourite food all on your own.�

“Teddy,� asked Fatima as they stepped off the ladder and headed for Charms, “do you think we can persuade the elves to make us some mutton biryani tonight?�

“Are you asking me?� Teddy raised his eyebrows. “I’m supposed to be the Prefect, remember? No sneaking off to the kitchens!�

She rolled her eyes. “I’m skipping dinner at the Hall and going. You can’t stop me, Pink Man!�

“Say what?�

“Your hair’s bubblegum pink again.�

“Are you sure?� Teddy stopped by a knight’s armour and checked. Fatima was right. It was pink. “Bloody hell! When did that happen?�

“It turned just as she stopped the Gryffindors.� She was watching Teddy change his hair colour to mousy brown with amused smile. “You don’t fancy her, do you?�

“What! Of course not!�

“You want to start controlling your transformations,� she warned as they set off. “People might get the wrong idea.�




“I?� Rita Skeeter said, watching the wizard sitting across her closely. “I write your biography?�

“Yes, Rita,� Gilderoy replied with a smile.

Rita continued observing him. Apropos of nothing, Gilderoy Lockhart, best-selling novelist of yore, had accosted her outside Greengrass Publishing House and implored her to have a drink with him at his flat. Rita wasn’t one to turn down an invitation for drinks, so she’d complied. Now, he was telling her about his plans for a flamboyant return to the magical world, and asking her to join in.

“No need for that,� said Rita coldly. “We both know I’m under scrutiny.�

After Snape: Scoundrel or Saint? was published, Hermione Weasley launched into an investigation of Rita’s sources for the book. Rita would have fought back, had the pesky Weasley woman not threatened to reveal her status as an illegal Animagus. Rita had been forced to retract the fabrications she’d added in the biography (fabrications such as Snape hiding a Squib daughter called Harietta from the wizarding world), and as a consequence, she’d been dropped by Greengrass Publishing House, the biggest publishers in town.

“I can help you get a book deal with Greengrass, if you help me.�

“How?�

“I’m their top cash cow--no offence, dear--and my new book is going to be another explosive best-seller.�

“So, why do you need me to write you the biography?� Rita asked. “Why can’t you get someone more credible?�

Gilderoy put his drink down and said, “Potter and his friends know something about me that they must forget. If you can manage that for me, I’ll secure you your next big biography.� He paused to grin. “You need that, don’t you?�

“You want me to walk up to three people who have no reasons to trust me and then attack them with Memory Charms?� Rita asked incredulously.

“I can show you how to gain their trust,� Gilderoy said, and then added, “Temporarily, anyway.�

“Then, you’ll publish your book?�

“Yes, and I’ll also have a word with Beren Greengrass--nay, I’ll insist--that you be allowed a second chance. And if truth be told, I really wouldn’t want anyone else to do it. You have a gift, my dear lady.�

Rita snorted. Then, she said, “All right. What can I say to those rascals that would charm them enough to suffer another interview with me?�

Chapter 3: The Sirius Moonlite

It was their fifth class with Professor Beacon. By now, Teddy and his classmates had covered kitchen basics such as identifying different kinds of knives and their usage, which charms were useful for washing vegetable and which ruined them of their flavour, how dairy products can be stored with simple cooling spells, etcetera. They absorbed her tips and instructions with varying amount of interest; most of them, Teddy included, simply found her a far more fascinating subject than the subject itself.

For one thing, Professor Beacon appeared determined to wear Muggle attire to the school. So far, she’d come dressed in tight denim skirts and shorts, printed summer dresses, and once a flowy white thing that Melissa said was called a “kaftan�. Unlike the other female teachers, she didn’t favour sensible leather shoes, but bright pumps and tall wedges. Secondly, she didn’t take her meals at the Great Hall. At first, they supposed she ate in her office. But the Hufflepuffs had been enlightened by the house-elves that they didn’t send food to her quarters. Did she cook all of her own meals at Hogwarts, then? Third, she usually put on music. “It helps set the mood,� she’d say, and then, she’d go off tangent, telling them about whichever band she’d selected for the day, and they were all Muggle bands. Teddy felt he now knew more about The Cure, Coldplay, and Keane, than Celestina Warbeck, Weird Sisters or Equally Weird Brothers, three of the most famous and enduring musical artists of the wizarding world.

“Just...� she was saying, fiddling with the charmed circular music player, emphasising the “sssst� as she usually did when she was flabbergasted by something. “You try to discuss music with someone from this end of the world, and all they can think about are those three, or the half-vampire who sang Necks to You. You poor lambs don’t know what you’re missing, I tell you. Ah!� With a brilliant smile, she shot her purple spell at the player. “This is what I’m talking about.�

The room was filled up with upbeat music. It went “Aaaaaahhhhh! Ahhhhhhh! Ahhhhhhh! Ahhhhh! Let’s dance!�

With that, the lesson on “Types of Cheese� commenced. The powerful, throaty voice of the male singer wormed in and out of Teddy’s brain as Professor Beacon conjured images of cheese after cheese, along with their names and uses. His eyes strayed towards her often, though. Teddy couldn’t exactly explain why, but his initial sense of familiarity was growing with each class. For some reason, he was certain they’d met before.

There was no one he could discuss this with. Neither Harry nor his grandmother had ever mentioned anyone whose description fitted Professor Beacon. If she’d been a figure of some importance, surely one of them would have mentioned her. He didn’t want to open up about these feelings to Fatima. She’d tease him. His cousin Victoire might lend an ear, he supposed. She was, however, a typical Ravenclaw. Teddy worried if she’d dive into a full-on investigation about Professor Beacon and start asking people. No, Teddy wanted to keep his thoughts to himself. He wasn’t even sure this was a matter that deserved so much attention.

Later that night, he opened his Potions textbook to work on an essay. “Put on your red shoes and dance the blues,� he hummed absently as he started to jot down an outline for the homework. “Let’s dance.�

Halfway into the introduction, he stopped singing. “Under the moonlight,� he said thickly. “The serious moonlight.�

He blinked, and then abruptly got up from his chair. With deliberate movements that made it look like he was acting under an Imperius Curse, he calmly pulled his trunk out from under his bed and opened it. Under a pile of clothes lay a photo album he hadn’t opened in a while. On the first page was a picture of his parents, with identical mousy brown hair. He hurriedly flipped through the pages until he found what he was looking for. Tonks, his mother, had been a Metamorphmagus like him, and many of her pictures showed her in varying hair colour and styles. One of the shots had been taken on the day she became an Auror. Her hair was a shade of pink that Professor Beacon sported. He blinked again; his throat was suddenly dry.

“No,� he said softly after some time. That wasn’t it.

It was true that, at times, he felt an overwhelming wish to meet his parents, to know them on his own rather than through the second-hand memories of others. Yet this wasn’t a mad, futile desire on his part for his mother to be alive. Teddy bit his lips. Why had that part of the song provoked an epiphany in him?

“The serious moonlight,� he repeated. “Serious...�

With a whoop, he turned to the last page of the album. It had a single snapshot of his father at Harry’s parents’ wedding. There she was in the background, giggling in the arms of none other than Sirius Black, her short black hair failing to mask the air of mischief that accompanied her wherever she went.




Ron Weasley was showing a customer how to use the latest product of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes: Bouncing Butter Balls, a candy that bounced not only inside one’s mouth, but out of it if one wasn’t too careful. “You see, it’ll pop off your arm, on the floor, off the ceiling,� he was saying, “but don’t worry about it getting spoiled. It won’t exactly touch the surface. So you can catch it and ...�

After the lady left with three brand new packets of Bouncing Butter Balls, Ron turned his attention to the next customer who’d been hanging in the vicinity, apparently waiting for him. When he recognised who it was, his face soured. “Skeeter,� he said. “What do you want?�

“Mr Weasley,� she trilled. “I just want to ask you a few questions about someone you know.�

Ron raised his eyebrows. “You expect me to help you?�

“Let’s just say,� she said in a conspirational voice, leaning closer, “I’m working on exposing a fraud.�

“If it’s Harry, then I swear to Merlin I will--�

“It’s Lockhart,� she said.

That got his attention. Ron had never been a fan of Gilderoy Lockhart. “What about him?� he asked.

“Can we discuss this somewhere private?�

Ron hesitated.

“He’s planning on writing a comeback book.�

“All right.�

He led her to the tea room at the back of the shop. Shutting the door behind them, he remarked, “I suppose he’s stealing someone else’s magical feats again?�

“Why, yes,� she said, sitting on a chair and taking out a Quick-Quotes Quill from her crocodile-skin handbag. “If my sources are correct, he confessed his crimes to you and Mr Potter during your second year at Hogwarts? Could you tell me exactly how it happened?�

Ron wondered how she knew, and then remembered who he was talking to. “It was the day we found the Chamber of Secrets,� he said, concentrating on the memory. “Harry and I asked him to help us, since he’d done all those heroic things, right? It turned out he’d been lying all along. He said something about an “ugly old Armenian warlock� who saved a village from werewolves. The Bandon Banshee was also banished by a witch with a “hare lip�. He tracked them down and put a Memory Charm on them so that they wouldn’t...� Ron trailed off, blinking several times. “Uh ... Hang on, maybe I’m remembering this wrong. Uh.�

Rita was watching him expectantly. Ron shook his head, which had suddenly got rather heavy for him. “Wait,� he said abruptly. “That--that’s not really what he said, I mean.� He vaguely registered her toying with a wand. Screwing up his eyes, he tried to focus on what had really happened in Lockhart’s office that day. “What did I just say?� he asked her.

“You told me that two of Lockhart’s greatest fans were an Armenian warlock and a witch with a hare lip.�

“Yeah,� he said slowly. “Yeah, he had an annoying habit of banging on about his fans.�

“Hmm. Is that all?�

Her gaze was too earnest; he felt as though she was staring into his soul. Suddenly uncomfortable, Ron said, “Yeah, that’s about it. I’ve got nothing else for you. Now, if you’ll clear out.�

“With pleasure,� she said. Her was smiling, all thirty-four teeth somehow on display. Ron showed her out, shuddering.




An hour later, Rita Skeeter walked out of Hermione Weasley’s office at the Ministry, and then headed for the Manchester Quidditch Stadium, where Harry Potter usually went to watch his wife practicing. He was found sitting alone, quite conveniently. After his interview, she Disapparated, reappearing at Gilderoy Lockhart’s flat.

“All done,� she told him. He’d hardly begun to bare his pearly whites, when she raised her wand and said, “I’ve cast protection spells to make myself immune to Memory Charms, so no tricks on me, Gilderoy.�

He put a hand across his heart. “I’m shocked you think I’m capable of such treachery.�

“I think you’re capable of more than this,� she said simply. “When are you meeting Beren?�

“Tomorrow!�

“Good.� She threw her coat on his sofa, poured herself a drink, and said, “Now, let’s get started on your life-story, Gilderoy. Where does the story of the imaginary hero begin? How many hours did you spend in the Hogwarts library, perfecting your Memory Charms?�

Gilderoy flushed. “You won’t be writing about that,� he snapped.

“Relax,� laughed Rita. “Just reminding you what I can do if you don’t keep your end of the deal.�

“Of course, I will honour my--�

“I have a stack of documents, gathered from trustworthy sources, Gilderoy. Accounts of your early life.� She paused, allowing herself to enjoy his obvious discomfort. “One false move on your part, and I’ll have them released.�

“Rita, my dear--�

“Meet Beren Greengrass tonight itself,� she cut him off. “If I don’t get my book-deal, I’ll break yours.�

Chapter 4: Girlish Glee


It was the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year. Teddy had broken off from his friends and was walking alone on the street behind the shops. “I want to do some exploring on my own,� he’d told them, but the truth was that he needed some space to mull over things. At school, he had homework, Prefect duties and his friends’ company to keep him occupied. Hogsmeade, on the other hand, provided him solitude; everyone had their own stuff to do.

Whistling a song by Keane, he strode along the less-crowded part of the wizarding village. Teddy was troubled. Ever since Professor Beacon had sauntered into Hogwarts, his life seemed to have got both complicated and excited. Initially, it had been the mystery surrounding her that mesmerised him. Now, it was the possibility of her sharing a history with his father that he had little access to. For no one who’d known Remus as a friend from that era of his life was alive. What Teddy was aware of, he heard from people who heard it from others. If Professor Beacon had dated Sirius, she could give him the glimpse of his father’s youth he desperately craved. Sirius and his father had been very close friends. They’d been part of the infamous Marauders.

And yet, Teddy felt it’d be crass to ambush her after class and pester her to share her past. It couldn’t have been pretty, could it, considering how the Marauders’ friendship ended? What would be the best way to make his request? How did one approach such a subject? The professor was quite funny and friendly, but she made it a point to maintain a distance between herself and the students. Teddy couldn’t imagine a scenario where he just walked up to her, said, “So--uh--Professor, I reckon you dated my dad’s old friend, Sirius, yeah?� and she received his opener with kindness. She was more likely to turn him into a slice of pizza, or something like that.

He’d reached the backside of the Three Broomsticks. He stopped walking, and whistling, and sighed heavily. Should he let it go?

“You stopped whistling that song at the best part, you know,� someone said from above. “This can’t be the end of everything. So, why don’t we go, somewhere only we--�

Professor Beacon stopped singing at the same moment Teddy looked up and saw her poking her head out of a window.

“Prof-Professor?� he stammered.

“Uhm.� She hesitated, and then said, “I had no idea it was you, Lupin.�

“D’you live here?� he asked her, finally understanding something. “Is that why you don’t eat Hogwarts?�

“Er. Yes.�

Why had everybody assumed she lived in Trelawney’s old quarters? “I’m sorry,� he said uncertainly. “I--I didn’t mean to intrude or anything. I mean,� he coloured, feeling guilty without knowing why, “I wasn’t stalking you or anything like that.�

To his relief, she merely snorted. “Boy, you need to open a dictionary and check the definition of the word “stalk�. You haven’t stalked anybody until you learn how to use the Internet and check people’s profiles on Facebook--oh, never mind.� She waved a hand. “I don’t expect you’d know what I’m on about.�

“Erm. I take Muggle Studies. We studied the internet last year. But, yeah, I don’t know what a “facebook� is supposed to be.�

They were both silent for a while after Teddy’s response. This is so weird, he thought. This conversation was the last thing he’d expected to happen in his Hogsmeade trip. He assumed that leaving with a polite goodbye would be the correct way to proceed, but his legs seemed unwilling to move.

“Why are you all alone?� she asked him.

“I just fancied a quiet walk.�

“Because Hogwarts doesn’t have grounds for that sort of thing?�

“Er.�

She smiled. “Your hair’s pink.�

Teddy flushed. “Yeah, it’s got a bit out of control I like your colour,� he said in the same breath. “Actually,� he sighed. “Actually, it reminds me a bit of my mum.�

The smile disappeared from her face. Once more, silence descended upon them. Just as Teddy started to say goodbye, thinking it best to end the awkwardness then and there, she cleared her throat and said, “Why don’t you come up for Butterbeer?�

“Sure!� he said at once, making her beam. “I’d love that.�

She opened the back door for him with her wand. Teddy took the stairs, nervous and hopeful. He wasn’t sure if he’d get an opportunity to bring up Sirius, but this was a good start. She was waiting for him at the landing of the second floor. Today, she had on a green T-shirt and white pyjama bottoms with owls printed all over them. “Come on in,� she said, leading him inside. “Welcome to Calendora Dean Beacon’s heavenly abode.�

The place was an utter mess. Clothes hung all over the sofa in the corner. There was a sock dangling from the top of the cupboard, which was ajar, a pair of dark denim jeans peeked out. Books were strewn on the carpet, and on the bed. The study desk, on the other hand, was cluttered with an assortment of photo-frames.

“Wow!� he exclaimed.

“Don’t expect me to apologise for it,� she sniggered, clearing out the sofa with a jab of her wand.

“Nope. My mum’s old room is exactly like this. Gran and I think she put some sort of a permanent disorganisation hex on it, because it returns to the same old state no matter how often we clean it.�

She said nothing as she shut the cupboard. Her back was turned on him.

“Sorry. I go on about my mum, don’t I?� he said anxiously.

“It’s all right,� she said, and he was relieved to see her smiling again as she turned round to face him. “Sit down on the sofa, wee lad. I’m gonna go downstairs and get us those Butterbeers.�

But Teddy didn’t sit down on the sofa. His attention was caught by the photographs on the table. They were like Muggle pictures; the subjects didn’t move. It wasn’t, however, their Muggleness that had pulled him towards them. They were the most bizarre collection of photographs he’d ever come across.

One of them featured Professor Beacon, looking half-mad. She had her trademark pink hair and wore a black T-shirt with a green “W� on the front. Her eyes were red globes; her mouth was open in a silent scream; her fists seemed to be shaking. Another was of a troll with a bow-tie on his head. The third featured Crollega Dawson and her “awesome� boobs almost spilling over. (Teddy didn’t blush any longer, since he was used to the cleavage by now.) The fourth was of a wild-looking witch with a crazy amount of light brown hair. The fifth was of a nice, decent looking woman in denim shorts, standing next to a man in some sort of Muggle superhero costume. (He recognised it because Harry had taken him to his cousin’s place once. Dudley owned a large collection of Muggle comics, and a lot of them had a guy in this superhero costume on the covers. Teddy thought he was called “Man-Bat� or something like that.) The sixth, however, showed a man with a balding head and a moustache. His attire hinted he was from the sixteenth century or thereabouts.

“What do you think?� Professor Beacon asked, startling Teddy. He hadn’t heard her coming up.

“They’re ... difficult to fit into a single category,� he said, accepting a Butterbeer from her. “Thanks.�

“Shall I tell you who they are?�

“Yes, please.�

“Well, the first is me. Friend of mine took it when I was a bit--uhm--pissed, and raging at vile Muggle shows about fishing. They have these soul-sucking TV specials on extreme fishing. Imagine that.�

Teddy imagined. “Yeah. Can’t think why anybody would want to watch that.�

“Yep. The second’s a female troll. Her name’s Crollolol. She--er--used to annoy people on the internet.�

“Sorry?� Teddy coughed. “A troll that uses the internet?�

“Uh huh.�

“Cool!�

“You know the third. The fourth one is a witch called Caroleadora. Defeated an army of Inferi at a Wales village in 1991 and disappeared.�

“Oh.�

“The fifth’s a published writer in the Muggle world. Her name sounds too normal, so I won’t bore you with the information. That one was shot during her final tour in the United States. The sixth,� she broke into a giggle, “is a famous dramatist and poet in the Muggle world. Active during the sixteenth and the seventeenth centuries. He’s known as Shakespeare to most people, although a few conspiracy theorists insist his true name is Crollalanza.�

She switched attention to her Butterbeer after that, letting Teddy absorb everything she’d just told him. “They are all ... you?� he asked quietly.

“You’re the first person to draw that conclusion.�

“Well, it’s sort of obvious,� he said. “Or is that because they’re all in the same place?�

“Mmm.�

“Wait.� Teddy gaped at her. “Does this also mean you travelled back in time?�

She chortled. “Yes. It’s not quite as great as people make it out to be.�

Teddy continued staring at her for a few more seconds, and then asked, “But why? Why all the disguises?�

“I had to go into hiding,� she told him. She didn’t elaborate, but noticing Teddy waiting, she bit her lips and acquiesced. “The Death Eaters were after me. These people here, in the photographs, are avatars chosen at random. That’s what did the trick, you see. Sure, the names do give away a bit, and yet, why would you connect a sixteenth century dramatist with an internet troll?�

Teddy nodded. “You don’t mind telling me all this,� he remarked, putting down the empty bottle of Butterbeer on the desk and facing her.

“I know whose son you are,� she said.

He held his breath. This was it, his golden opportunity.

“Teddy,� she began, “I--�

“You dated Sirius Black, didn’t you?� he blurted out.

“Wha-yeah,� she said. “Yeah, I did.� A look of relief spread over her face. “Who told you?�

Relieved to find himself still in human form, and not as a slice of pizza as he’d feared, Teddy told her about the photograph taken at James Potter’s wedding. She was grinning now. “The Marauders,� she said wistfully.

“You knew them.�

“I could write a book on their antics,� she said with a snort. “I was three years below them in school. Hufflepuff house. They may have been in Gryffindor, but everybody knew them. I didn’t get together with Sirius until he’d left, though. I was sixteen. He was nineteen, already in the Order. We met at my cousin’s flat. It was my last two weeks of the summer. We met again the next year, and he took me as his date to James and Lily’s wedding.�

As though reading his mind, she said, “Yes, I met your father, too. At school, I had a crush on him.� She laughed. “Eh, I’m a bit of a scarlet woman. Oops!� Teddy shook his head. “He was quite popular,� she continued. “I think it had something to do with his calm, quiet and yet confident nature. He was rather mysterious, unlike the three others, though I’m sure his Prefect badge didn’t do much to hold him or his friends back when it came to pranks. After school, though, he’d changed a bit.�

She stopped, perhaps thinking the topic wouldn’t be pleasant to Teddy’s ears any longer, but he urged her to go on. “I’ll be honest with you, Teddy. Things were rough for him. He couldn’t get a job, and I don’t think he liked his Order assignments a lot. Not that they ever discussed all that in front of me, but it was easy to tell. He always looked harassed whenever we crossed paths.�

Teddy swallowed.

“He still hung on, though, Teddy, and that’s why I respected him. He was braver than a lot of people I knew, including his friends. He didn’t grumble or make a fuss. And he was kind to everyone.�

“Thanks,� Teddy murmured. He wondered if she’s say she was sorry he never got to know him, which others before her had done. Instead, she gathered herself and said, quite bluntly, “Now off you go back to your friends. And, Teddy, please don’t discuss any of this with anyone.�

Teddy promised he wouldn’t, and he kept his promise. In the next few classes, though, she began to ignore him. She didn’t do it in an obvious manner; if he had any queries, she responded in her usual candid fashion. Yet, she refused to meet his eye at any other moment. He felt an immense urge to apologise, but was unsure if that would make things worse. On the last class before the Christmas holidays, he resolved to do it anyway. To his dismay, she’d cancelled the class.

“I wonder what’s wrong,� he said for the hundredth time to Fatima. They were on the train, returning home for Christmas, and she was too engrossed with her copy of the Prophet to pay him attention. “Whoa!� she said. “This Lockhart guy is something, huh?�

“Who?�

“Him!� She shoved the paper into his face. “Lost his memory in a freak accident at Hogwarts. He taught Defence. Remembered everything a few months ago and has a new book out.�

Teddy straightened out the paper and read the article. “Interview with the Inferi,� he said aloud when he’d finished. Handing Fatima her paper back, he said, “That’s a bit of a stupid title.�

“But defeating three dozen Inferi all on his own!� Fatima said emphatically. “Just think of how much energy that would take. I wonder which spell he used to conjure the fire...�

Teddy wasn’t listening. He’d already returned to musing about Professor Beacon’s enigmatic ways

Chapter 5: Think of the Children!



The wizarding world of Great Britain, like any other world of Great Britain, or any other world of the world in general, had a peculiar habit of latching on to glamorous news. Ever since Harry Potter’s reign as “The Boy Who Died, but Not Really, for He Returned to Destroy Lord Voldemort� had lost some of its sheen, it had been desperately waiting for a replacement. That replacement had arrived like a storm in the shape, size and resplendent smile of Gilderoy Lockhart. His latest book had sold out within weeks, and Rita Skeeter had announced she was writing a biography of the man, spanning his childhood, his years at Hogwarts as a Ravenclaw student, his heroic achievements which could be read about in detail in his previous volumes, and his years of coping with amnesia and the subsequent, magnificent recovery.

Neither Andromeda Tonks nor Teddy Lupin, however, cared. They were busy preparing for Christmas, making lists of presents and deciding what food they should have that evening. Now that Teddy was a bit more knowledgeable about culinary matters, he tried to provide his semi-expert opinion on the ingredients and cooking procedures. Andromeda tolerated him with an indulgent smile.

“Do you want to switch cleaning your mum’s room with the Christmas tree decoration?� she asked, scratching her head with a quill as she contemplated what they should give Harry, who wasn’t one to be fussy about presents, thereby making it hard for others to choose a proper present for him.

Teddy usually preferred doing the tree, but said he’d take over tidying Tonks’ former room. He’d just connected with a part of his father’s history; he wanted to be connected with hers, too. After lunch that day, he headed for the room opposite his, which his mother had occupied when she was alive. The clutter provoked a mental image of Professor Beacon’s room. He grinned in a pained sort of way.

As was the ritual, he picked up Tonks’ radio from under the bed and switched it on. Equally Weird Brothers’ Kappas, Not Muses was playing. Although he’d been a huge fan of the band the previous Christmas, Teddy found himself wishing something else was on. Professor Beacon had planted a strange musical fetish in him. Perhaps, Harry could get him a few Muggle songs.

Then, without warning, anger and resentment rose inside of him. “Enough about her,� he muttered. He was becoming obsessed, and for what? What had he done to offend her, anyway? He hadn’t intended to find out where she lived. He hadn’t intended to get invited for Butterbeer. Yes, he’d wanted--desperately wanted--to hear more about his father, but he hadn’t barged into her room and begged her to tell him. Above all, he’d kept his promise, hadn’t he? Why was she rebuking him with the cold treatment?

Maybe, he’d embarrassed her. Caused her to think she’d exposed herself. That only fuelled his wrath. He wasn’t the type of person to backstab or gossip. Teddy would have never mentioned the topic again to even her, forget other people.

“Ugh!� he groaned, banging the doors of his mother’s cupboard shut. He only succeeded at opening them again, some of its content flying out to meet his face. Swearing under his breath, he grabbed all the clothes and pushed them back in, shoving them so hard that the back of the cupboard creaked and slipped, revealing the wall.

Teddy gasped. Twice.

The first time he gasped, it was because he was stunned he had managed to break a cupboard or something. The second time happened because he realised there was a small drawer built into the wall. Had his mother used it to hide things from her parents? He turned around, and raising his wand, said, “Colloportus!�

The bedroom door shut with a click. Teddy reached out and pulled the drawer back. It contained only two things--a scroll of parchment, and a photograph of Tonks in her school robes, her right arm was draped over the shoulder of a slightly older woman in fitting black robes. Teddy had to study the picture for a full minute before he was convinced he was seeing it right.

It wasn’t his mother who had short pink hair in the photograph, as anyone would have expected. It was the other woman. He turned his attention to the parchment. It was a letter.

Dear Tonks,

It feels odd to call you that, but I know you’d never forgive me if I used any other name.

I’m leaving without saying goodbye in person, like the proper coward I am. I couldn’t do that. I love you far too much, darling, to be able to look you in the eye and say that this entire year has been built upon a sham. My feelings for you were honest, but the woman you fell for isn’t me. I’m not Vernalia Kappanakis. Vernalia Kappanakis does not exist. She was only a necessary experiment, one that would have gone on had I not lost courage.

I met you, darling. I should not have fancied you, should I? I should have kept my distance. Yes, you hate it when I drag this up--the age difference, the student-teacher angle--but it’s true. I had no right losing my head like that. Yet I love you and because I love you, I’m ending this.

One day, I’ll have enough strength to show you who I really am.

I wish you all the happiness and luck and love this world can give you, because you deserve all of it.

Yours,
CDB

Teddy took up the photograph again. Bloody hell. It was her.




“Merry--hic--Christmas!�

Rosmerta sighed as she watched Calendora finish another glass of wine and then rest her head on the table. Letting her cousin volunteer for the Christmas decoration had been a mistake; first of all, she’d extended little help. Secondly, her love affair with wine was attaining frightful levels of intimacy. The first few months at Hogwarts had kept her away from the bottle, and Rosmerta had breathed easier, but now it was worsening.

“Why don’t you go up and get some rest?� she said gently.

“Nah. Don’t wanna.�

“Come on, Dora.�

“Don’t--don’t call me that!�

Rosmerta levitated a glittering star to the top of the tree and said nothing, thinking it best to simply do what she had been forced to in the previous week: wait for her cousin to pass out and carry her upstairs to her bed. This course of action wasn’t one she personally liked; she had been trying her best to get her to open up. She’d tried to draw her cousin’s mind away from whatever it was that bothered her, but to no avail. She had even thought of brewing Anti-Alcoholism Potion. The idea had to abandoned once she realised Calendora chose her wine at random; Rosmerta could never tell which one to spike with the potion.

“Can’t do it, Rosie.�

Beneath the slurred articulation of words, Rosmerta could discern real grief. “Can’t do what?� she asked conversationally.

“Can’t show who I am.�

“To whom?�

Rosmerta waited, then shook her head in defeat as the sound of snoring filled up the pub.




Teddy was at the Burrow, where the Weasleys and Potters gathered for a feast every year, three days before Christmas. Though he was fond of everyone, today, he was only interested in talking to one person. As soon as she’d arrived, he accosted her and asked, “Hermione, does the name Vernalia Kappanakis ring any bell?�

“Ohh!� Hermione frowned. “I have heard it. Hmm.�

“She taught at Hogwarts sometime during the 80’s.�

“Defence Against the Dark Arts!� Hermione cried. “I think she taught that at some point.�

“She was the DADA professor for the school year 1990-91, just before Quirrell,� Victoire added from the side.

“Oh yes, she was--� Hermione began to say, but she was whisked away by Percy Weasley, who wanted to discuss something with her.

“Kind of offended you didn’t ask me,� Victoire said. She was grinning, though.

“Sorry,� Teddy said sheepishly.

“She resigned,� Victoire told him. “She was one of the few teachers since Voldemort’s curse and before his death to voluntarily leave the post.�

My father was one of them, Teddy reflected.

“You’ve been acting strange,� Victoire said. “Distant at Hogwarts. Disappeared at Hogsmeade. No time to spare for our library dates. What’s going on, Teddy?�

He saw real concern in her eyes, and Teddy, no longer able to keep it all to himself, took her out for a walk and gave her the whole story. “She keeps popping up in my parents’ life,� he said. “But she didn’t mention my mother at all that day in her flat.�

“Understandably,� said Victoire. “I reckon it broke both their hearts. I have no idea how she slipped into Hogwarts with a fake identity--from what you hear about Dumbledore, he doesn’t sound like someone who could be fooled with a false résumé.�

“She’s very good at it.�

“Maybe.�

“I should let it go, shouldn’t I?�

Victoire slid her fingers through his. “Teddy, if she wants to, she’ll tell you when she’s ready. I don’t think you should nag her into it.�

“Yeah.� He held her hand tightly. “You’re right.�




“Merry Christmas!� Rosmerta wished Calendora cheerfully, shaking her awake.

“Argh! Is it morning already?�

“Yes!� Rosmerta dumped her present on the bed. “Look what I got you.�

Calendora stared at the wine bottle. “Oh, Rosie.�

She sounded tired and grateful at the same time. Rosmerta guessed she must have had enough wine to last several years, but she was also certain nothing would stop her cousin from drinking it anyway, which was why, after much internal debating, she’d taken out the expensive bottle from her cellar, and laced it with Anti-Alcoholic Potion.




“Oh, wow!� Teddy exclaimed, opening the present from Harry. “Look, Gran, he got me a Magical Messenger!�

Ron and George had recently launched a new product which had proved to be an instant hit. The Magical Messengers were tiny enchanted squares of metal with a screen, which could be used to send and receive messages. Ron had revealed at the Burrow that they got the idea from the DA coins and Muggle mobile phones. Andromeda examined it and said, “Convenient, really.�

“It is, isn’t it?� Teddy said happily, whooping when it lit up with a beep. “A message from Victoire! Harry gave her my identification number.�

For a while, he and Victoire amused each other with their messaging, stopping only she said she wanted to finish reading the book she’d got from Grandma Molly. Teddy went off to the kitchen to help Andromeda clean up. When he returned to his room, there was another message from Victoire:

CDB said she fought the Inferi in Wales in `91? Weird. Gilderoy L claims that’s what he did in this book. Guess Wales had a bad Inferi invasion that year, huh?




Calendora came down for lunch, unsurprisingly sober. “Your wine tasted great,� she told Rosmerta. “But I couldn’t have more than half a glass.�

“Funny, that,� Rosmerta said in a casual voice, nose deep in her book. The author, who, in spite of her refusal to date him during their school years, insisted upon sending her signed copies of his new releases, had sent her his latest as a Christmas gift.

“Can’t believe you’re reading that ghastly piece of shit,� Calendora commented as she heated her casserole with warming charms. “I thought better of you.�

“He amuses me,� Rosmerta replied. “He was always so full of himself. He hasn’t changed in that respect. But I have to say, I didn’t expect him to turn like this.�

“Like what?�

“A hero.�

Calendora snorted. “More like a thief,� she muttered.

“A thief?� Rosmerta asked, putting her book down. “What do you mean?�

“Nothing,� the other woman said, starting to eat. “I’m just rambling, I suppose. Anyway, Rosie, I’m leaving next year.�

“What?�

“I can’t continue at Hogwarts.� She didn’t look up from her bowl. “I’m talking to Flitwick once term starts. They’ll need to find someone else.�

“And where would you go?�

“I’ve always wanted to act,� Calendora said. “I’d love to try pantomime.�




“So,� said Teddy, “what you’re saying is...�

“There was only one Inferi attack that year in Wales,� Victoire said.

They were in her room at Shell Cottage. At first, Teddy had thought of nothing of her message, but then she’d urged him to take the Floo and meet her.

“I talked to Aunt Audrey,� she explained. “It was bugging me because it just seemed improbable for so many Inferi to turn up like that at a place. Aunt Audrey is from that village. She was at school when it happened, but she heard from her parents.�

“Does anyone remember who drove away those Inferi?�

Victoire shook her head. “They all agree now that it was Lockhart because of his book.�

Then, at the same time, they concluded, “One of them is lying.�

“Why would she lie, though?� Teddy said. “The book was published after our Hogsmeade trip. It seems like a random story to make up, doesn’t it?�

“Teddy, don’t get me wrong,� she said hesitatingly, “but she’s someone who’s survived purely by deceiving others.�

“I know,� Teddy said, “yet, at the same time, what would she gain from claiming it was her? If she wants people to think Lockhart is lying, she’d be out there, suing him or something.�

“Wouldn’t she have done the same if she was telling you the truth?� Victoire asked.

Teddy didn’t have a response any longer. He couldn’t, not as long as Professor Beacon kept him in the dark.

Chapter 6: Spag Bol



If Teddy had hoped Professor Beacon would have thawed over the holidays, he was wrong. If anything, she appeared determined to avoid him. He tried to talk to her more than once after class, but she’d quickly leave the classroom, escape into her office and then slam the door on him. Meanwhile, Lockhart’s fame was spreading. His books were being translated into twenty languages, and Rita Skeeter’s biography would be out in late February. Finally, Teddy decided to respond in kind. If she was going to be obnoxious, then he was going to act recklessly. He stopped trying to get her attention, leading her into a false sense of security. In the last class before the Hogsmeade weekend, she appeared cheerful enough. Teddy could tell because she paired McLaggen up with Grass for the bakery lesson--she seemed to derive pleasure from forcing those two to work together.

On the day of the February Hogsmeade trip, Teddy detached himself from his friends once more, went behind an alley and using his Metamorphmagus skills, transformed his features into that of a nondescript middle-aged wizard. He casually entered Three Broomsticks and sat down at the end of the bar. As soon as Madam Rosmerta’s back was turned, he slipped away and walked up the stairs towards Professor Beacon’s room. On the way, he changed his features again, his heart beating wildly in his chest as he felt himself growing shorter and his hair lengthen. Then, he charmed his clothes to look like that of a female student’s and knocked on the door.

Professor Beacon could be heard hurrying inside. Teddy began to lose courage as her footsteps drew closer. He’d almost turned away when the door opened. Professor Beacon took one good look at him, and then fainted without further ado.

“Shit.�

Teddy jumped over her body into the room, pulled her aside and then shut the door, cursing all the while. He quickly conjured a glass of water and sprinkled her face with it. After a while, she came round, and gave a half-shriek.

“It’s me, Professor,� Teddy said, returning to his original form. Then, he yelped in pain; she’d kneed him.

“What did you do that for, you little twat!�

“You wouldn’t talk to me otherwise!� he protested, hugging his stomach. “I had to take drastic measures.�

“You nearly killed me with shock, you know that?� she shouted.

“All of this could have been avoided if you hadn’t avoided me in the first place!� he shouted right back.

“What on earth could be so important that you’d stalk a teacher--�

“I wasn’t stalking!� he said, sitting up. “And I found your letter to my mum, okay? Your goodbye letter.�

That shut her up. He hadn’t meant to bring it up at all, but he had to get attention. More than that, a part of him desperately wanted to hurt her. “You left her, didn’t you?� he said mercilessly. “You pulled some stupid trick on the Hogwarts staff and Dumbledore with your Vernalia Kappanakis act. It was one of your little experiments, wasn’t it? Your way of deceiving other people so you could have some fun at their expense? I hope it was worth it in the end, breaking my mum’s heart like that!�

She had blanched. She stared at him, her head shaking with silent denial.

“My mum’s favourite hair colour was pink,� he went on. “Because of you. And you vanished, not giving a shit, probably time-travelling back to the sixteenth century so you could write some shitty dramas to entertain the bloody queen--�

“That wasn’t until later on,� she interrupted him. “My first disguise after shedding Kappanakis was Caroleadora. The wild witch.�

“I don’t give a damn,� he said angrily.

“I do.� She had stood up now. “I never tricked Dumbledore. He knew. I was working on my thesis on magical disguises and glamour theory at that time, and Vernalia Kappanakis was part of it. Dumbledore was one of my guides. He highly approved of my research, and the charms and spells I had amended and invented to keep disguises in place for months. They were so valuable that my project became a secret between me and my guides. To test them, Dumbledore suggested I teach a year at Hogwarts, pretending to be a Greek witch--Defence--and I agreed.�

She turned away from him and sat down on her bed. “I began to enjoy teaching. I got on well with the students and the other teachers. Dumbledore was happy with my work, but he warned me. The DADA post had always been a sort of joke, you know? When I was in school, we’d place bets on the new teachers. Would they be kicked out? Would they resign? Would they disappear? None of us considered the possibility that there could be an actual curse on it. I was over-confident, though. I assured him I’d try my best to outlast the others. Then, I fell in love with a student. Your mother.

“She wanted to be an Auror, so I arranged extra classes for her. We taught each other a lot, actually, and disguises were a particularly fascinating subject for both of us, what with her being a Metamorphmagus and me, well, already living under one. There were times when I was tempted to tell her the truth, but I was under strict supervision from my guides. I couldn’t divulge my real identity. It would have sabotaged the whole operation.�

“You had priorities,� Teddy commented, and he couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice.

“I didn’t complete my research, Teddy,� she said firmly, facing him again. “I left your mum, but I left everything else, too. I didn’t want to be found by my guides, and although I believe Dumbledore could have located me if he wanted to, he didn’t. I started on a unending journey of living under disguises, returning only when I saw another chance of coming to Hogwarts.�

“But the Defence post--�

“--is permanently taken now, I know.� She smiled sadly. “I wanted to come to Hogwarts so I could see you. I never forgave myself, Teddy. I thought I’d approach you and tell you what I couldn’t tell your mother. Evidently, I’m still a coward.�

She abruptly got up and started straightening her bed-sheets. Judging by the sound of sniffing, Teddy suspected she was hiding her tears from him. “I’ll forgive you only if you do one thing,� he said as he stood up. “You’ll expose Gilderoy Lockhart.�

“What?�

“I don’t think it was he who got rid of the Wales Inferi in 1991.�

“Oh,� she said. “I don’t care about that, Teddy.�

“I do,� he told her. “He obviously lied. What’s to stop him from lying again?�

She turned around, and they stared at each other. Finally, a wry smile lit up her face. “You have a point there,� she said.




Rita Skeeter’s autobiography was finally on the bookshelves. To celebrate the occasion, she and Gilderoy had arranged to have dinner at an exclusive restaurant at London. Prickly partners though they were, both felt it was necessary to keep in touch, lest their hold over each other be forgotten.

“Tonight’s chef is a fan,� Gilderoy informed Rita. “She’s reserved the whole place for us.�

“I hope this won’t turn into Gilderoy-talk,� Rita replied drily. “Only, I thought we were here to commemorate my success.�

“Oh, of course, dear,� he said in what he thought was a soothing voice, but in reality came out irritable and strained.

“Shall we order?� Rita asked.

“Ah,� Gilderoy hesitated. “You see, the chef--I don’t know if you’ve heard of her name, but she’s rather famous and a fellow writer like us--pleaded with me to let her serve us her special.�

“Who is this chef?�

“A delightful woman by the name of Crollega Dawson.�

“I’ve heard of her,� Rita said. “Publishes in both the Muggle and the magical world, doesn’t she?�

“Mmhm. And she apparently owns all the books I’ve written.�

At that moment, a waitress walked out of the kitchen, bearing a tray, and made her way towards them. They sat up, ready to feast on whatever fancy, expensive, and exotic food the famous chef had prepared for them. It was Spaghetti Bolognese.

“Spag Bol?� Rita asked archly, not caring the waitress was still there, pouring wine into their glasses. “This is her special?

Even Gilderoy appeared affronted. “Are you sure this is our order?� he said to the waitress.

“Sir, you and your friend are our only customers tonight.� She straightened up and said, quite pleasantly, “If you have any issues with the food, I can fetch Ms Dawson.�

“That will not be necessary--� Gilderoy began to say just as Rita replied, “Yes, do fetch her for us.�

As soon as the kitchen door had closed, Gilderoy rounded on Rita. “Are you sure this is necessary, Rita?�

“It’s my night,� she snapped. “I’m not going to celebrate my first book in ten years with something as commonplace as Spag Bol.�

“You have a problem with my Spag Bol,� someone else said. Gilderoy and Rita turned to see a woman striding towards them. Her blond hair was so glossy and resplendent in the glow of the room that the other two self-consciously smoothed their own hair.

“I can make Spag Bol in my sleep,� Rita sneered. “This can’t be a chef’s special.�

“Have you tried it, though?� Dawson asked her. “It could be that my Spag Bol tastes different from yours. No one, after all, makes Spag Bol better than me.�

“I highly doubt Spag Bol can be anything but Spag Bol, even if you sprinkle it with diamond dust.�

“Now, now, ladies,� Gilderoy began in an attempt to pacify.

“Perhaps, you might be kind enough to have some and see for yourself, Gilderoy,� Dawson said sweetly.

“Yes, of course, I will!�

“Because I’d hate for you to miss the opportunity a second time.�

“Second...?� he asked. His confusion turned to horror as all the doors and windows of the restaurant suddenly shut of their own accord. He gaped wordlessly at Dawson, who had her wand out; Rita, on the other hand, acted more quickly, getting her own wand from her bag.

“Drop it, Skeeter,� Dawson warned, shooting a spell that made Rita scream and drop her wand. At the same moment, Gilderoy came to his senses and lunged at Dawson. They tumbled on to the floor. Rita, armed again, towered over them and asked, “Who the hell are you?�

Gilderoy moved away and produced his own wand, ready to cast Memory Charms once Dawson explained herself.

“I’m Crollega Dawson,� said Dawson.

“The truth, Dawson. I want the truth.�

On hearing that, Dawson started laughing. “The truth? Oh, that’s right. I’ll give you the truth. We have here a wizard and a witch, famed writers and infamous cheats. Gilderoy Lockhart, who snatched other people’s life away from them and made their stories his own. Rita Skeeter, notorious slanderer, already under probation for her smear campaigns. Isn’t it beautifully ironic that you wrote his biography?�

Gilderoy and Rita tensed. “I’ll kill you for this,� Rita said, her voice trembling.

“No!� Gilderoy shouted. “The people at this restaurant know we’re here. I’ll just wipe out her memories.� He turned on Dawson. “I don’t know how you found out about us, but you won’t have to be acquainted with our secrets anymore. Say goodbye to your memories, Dawson. Obli--�

Gilderoy ended his incantation with an odd gargle. Rita started to fume about incompetency, then yelled in fright when she saw why Gilderoy hadn’t finished; the lower half of his face had been covered by what looked like a limitless coil of spaghetti.

“What--�

To her dismay, spaghetti was snaking between her own ankles, tying her up. She bent down to pull at them, but they’d become as strong as ropes. Soon, she and her dinner date were bound, unable to move.

“Told you,� Dawson said pleasantly, “no one makes Spag Bol better than me.�

Eeep!(ilogue)



It was the month of May, and the students inside Calendora Dean Beacon’s classroom were too busy to discuss the biggest, most scandalous news of that week. Gilderoy Lockhart had been sent to jail for fraud. His Order of Merlin had been stripped, and all copies of Interview with the Inferi had been taken off the shelves. Rita Skeeter was joining him, not only for writing another book full of lies, but also because she’d modified three people’s memories with authorised Memory Charms. A new book based on the controversy had been commissioned by Greengrass Publishing House in an attempt to atone for their former endorsement of Lockhart and Skeeter. It was to be penned by an unknown writer called Carmerta Crollalanza, who had been studying the two criminals and following their activities for years.

The students didn’t care because they were in the middle of their practical Magical Cookery exam, which happened to be their last for the year. For this exam, things had been arranged a little different. It was, first of all, Sunday. Secondly, the scores would be given by the student’s family members, who had been invited by the school. Third, it was being conducted in the school grounds. The air was laced with aromas of herbs, fruits, sweetening agents and a trillion other fragrances.

Teddy was working hard on his cake. His grandmother was there. He couldn’t afford things to go wrong.

He allowed himself to relax only when his cake was inside the oven. A few tables along him, he could see Fatima directing three knives with her wand: one for meat, one for the onions, and the third for other condiments. On his other side, about three tables down, Timothy Grass and Morgan McLaggen were working together. To his amazement, Teddy caught them smiling at each other.

Soon, however, the referee had sounded. The time allotted to them was over. He cut a thin slice of his cake, placed it carefully on a table, and then carried it to Andromeda, who was straightening up. She’d warned him in her last letter that she would not be biased.

She accepted the cake, cut a small piece of it, and popped it inside her mouth. Teddy swallowed nervously. When she finally gave him a smile of approval, he could have died with relief.

“I’m going to give some to Professor Beacon,� he told her, before rushing off to find his teacher. She was, however, caught up with a large group of former classmates. Teddy turned back, not wanting to interrupt. Then, Magical Messenger beeped.

Catch me in my office around three. - CDB

He found her packing up when he got to the office. “Are you leaving?� he asked worriedly.

She shook her head. “I’ve got too used to juggling so many personalities, Teddy. I’ll return to the school next year, but these two months in between? I am acting in a Muggle play.�

“An actor, then. What’s your name going to be?�

“Rivera Kingston,� she replied. “I’ll send you and your gran tickets.�

“Thanks,� Teddy said, grinning.

“There’s something I wanted you to have,� she said, taking a stack of paper out of her bag. It was magically bound, but it had no cover. “I once told you I could write a book on the Marauders. Thing is, I started on one when I was with Sirius. It was a joke between us.� With a sigh, she handed it over. “I want you to have it. Consider it your terribly early, or terribly late, Christmas present.�

Teddy accepted it with a nod. Then, he gave her an awkward hug. “We’ll see other again soon,� she said. “Your cake was--dare I say it, awesome.�

They laughed. “Thanks for everything, Professor Beacon,� Teddy said.

“No, Teddy. Thank you for everything.�

“Lions of Gryffindor,� Teddy read out the title of his terribly early, or terribly late, Christmas present.

“It’ll never be finished,� she told him. “But I hope it’ll be enough.�

“It’ll be more than enough.�