Adam Cynon awoke in total darkness again. How long had it been now? One day? Two? More? Was anyone even bothering to look for him?

For what must have been the hundredth time, he tried budging the piece of the castle that had fallen on his arm. It was a no-go like all the attempts before, almost like the enchanted stone didn't want him to get it off. What was it? A piece of Gryffindor Tower? That would make the most sense.

But no, if it had fallen that far he wouldn't have survived the impact, nor would he have survived the several smaller impacts that had entrapped him under a veritable quarry's worth of stone.

Being a sixth year, he knew more than a few spells that could free him, if only he could get to his wand, but that was pinned in the pocket within his robes, pressing into his flesh, leaving a mark he was sure could never be removed, even if he were sent immediately to St. Mungo's.

And that wasn't happening any time soon. If he remained there for much longer...

He shifted his concentration to something else, needing to keep his mind occupied. He couldn't hear the battle anymore, and he figured it had to have been over for a least a day. He wondered which side won, and which side's victory would be better for him in his current state.

And then suddenly, voices. Heavy footsteps and the sound of a dog's breathing. Adam tried to call out, his voice was hoarse after days of non-use and inhaling dust, but he managed enough to focus his would-be rescuers attention.

Then he grew fearful. What if that was the wrong side out there?

The rubble moved, slowly. Someone was being very careful. Soon there was a sliver of light, an animal digging and suddenly his face was being licked by a huge black dog. He knew the animal, it was the gamekeeper's pet.

"Get back Fang, you dumb beast, 'ya." The dog obeyed, and a pair of large hands in dragonskin gloves reached in and easily lifted the rock from Adam's arm.

He next found himself being slowly removed from his stony grave, which collapsed as soon as he was clear, having been held up by a spell while they got him out.

" 'Ya alright now, it's all over." The sun blinded Adam as he tried looking into the furry face of the gameskeeper, trying to remember his name, Hagar, Hagra, something like that.

His savior was bruised, tired, but otherwise none the worse for wear, and Adam guessed the Dark Lord had been defeated...again, otherwise the half-giant would have been dead, or worse.

But Adam shook his head, it wasn't over, not for him.

Thirteen Years Later

The Hogwarts Express had arrived into Hogsmeade twenty minutes ahead of schedule, which was good, because Adam had a lot to prepare for before tomorrow's lessons, and with tonight's feast and sorting, time was short.

He looked at the crowd of students gathered around the gleaming red train and remembered the times it had taken him on the trip from London. Most of those times had been good, some less so, but it filled his heart with joy to see it, and the students, looking so well considering the last time he had seen this sight. He had regretted not returning the next fall for his seventh year, perhaps then his last vision of the school would not have been it in ruins, but the choice had not been his. His parents had elected he would finish his schooling elsewhere.

But it wasn't time to think about the past, just the present. He had tried to interact as little as possible with the students on the way up, not wanting to build the personal friendships he had seen so many professors fall prey to while he had been a student there. He had to be stern, had to be tough, he was a Hogwarts professor now.

Headmistress McGonagall had come in person to ask him to teach the subject she had taught him, Transfiguration. She had finally decided to give up pulling the double weight of teaching while running the place. As she had told him in her mild Scottish accent, "My age has finally surpassed my abilities."

True, it had always been his best subject, he had even gotten an Outstanding on his O.W.L., but this was the subject not only once taught by the current Headmistress, but other great wizards like Professor Dumbledore. He was to follow in the footsteps of not one but two of the greatest teachers the wizarding school had ever seen in its thousand-plus years. The last decade, in which he had worked a boring but fulfilling job writing for Transfiguration Today, had not prepared him to fill such shoes.

He had contemplated that thought many times, and it always made him nervous. It was a tremendous legacy to carry, but he just knew he had to come back to this place.

The professor's carriage traveled much faster than the students' thestral-pulled ones ever did, and it was almost no time before he was viewing the castle again.

It was remarkable. It looked almost exactly as it had before that night. When Hagrid pulled him from the rubble, he was certain the Battle of Hogwarts had done irreparable harm to the millennium-old castle, but the fantastic, and dangerous, thing about magic is that it could fix just about anything.

He held that spot by his ribs, the spot where his wand had pressed against his bones, they had managed to repair his crushed arm, but his wand had bruised his ribs even beyond magical intervention. They told him it was because of the ancient, unknown enchantments placed on the stone he was buried under, but he could never be sure. The pain was now his constant companion and reminder.

He found his way to the teacher's lounge easy enough, despite having never been there and, finding his mouth suddenly dry, made right for the refreshment table. There was the usual fare the students would enjoy for the feast, joined by several of the alcoholic variety. He decided on his favorite, a frozen butterbeer, before finally taking the time to look over this room that had always been off limits to him.

It was decorated in the classic style he had come to love the very first day he set foot in the place, with inviting plush couches on one side and large, uncomfortable-looking wooden chairs on the other side of a stone fireplace. All four house banners hung from the ceiling. There were also a few desks with ink quills and blank parchment for the work-minded.

There was a fire roaring, despite the fact that there were only two others in the room besides himself. An older female professor he didn't recognize sat at one of the desks, though it looked like she was asleep, rather than working. The other was sitting in one of those antique wooden chairs, facing the fire, and Adam debated whether he should go over and introduce himself.

He took a long sip of his butterbeer and decided against it. He had just turned to leave when he heard his name.

"Adam?"

He turned back to see that the professor by the fire was the speaker, but the fire behind him (as he was sure now that it was male) shadowed his features. Relieved that the ice had been broken, Adam went to take the seat next to whoever it was.

When he got close enough to finally see the speaker, he pulled up short.

"Professor Longbottom?"

His eager face and brown robes were perpetually smudged with dirt, and as he extended a hand to Adam he could see how blistered the Herbology Professor's fingers had gotten from years of working with his hands.

They shook, "Please, call me Neville."

Adam nodded, pleased. He had never spoken to Neville while they were at school, not even to make fun of him like the rest of his housemates did, but the third year professor was from the class only one year older than his, if not his house, and would make Adam's own entry into this world that much easier. He had hoped to speak to him during the feast, but this served much better.

"Neville then, good to see you."

He sat down in one of those large wooden chairs, confirming his suspicions about their lack of comfort, he had to twist his body a little to avoid putting pressure on his injury.

"Minerva owled me this summer to make sure I was okay with her hiring you."

"Did she really?"

"I guess she figured, given everything that happened while we were at school here..."

Adam waved him off, "Say no more Prof...Neville, it was a long time ago."

"That's what I told her, if we're going to put it behind us, we have to stay united."

Adam nodded, Neville had come a long way since their school days, "but what are you doing here? Aren't most professors in their offices or already at the feast?"

"Got the whole year to spend in my office, don't I? No, the night of the feast I come here instead and just sit in front of the fire, thinking about all the great wizards that have passed through this place, that taught here. Maybe they sat right in this chair, you know? Then I think about how lucky we are that it's still here, that we have a chance to do what they did, to exist in the same space they did."

Yes, he had changed a lot. "I've never thought about it that way," Adam said, watching the fire dance. All those great wizards.

Both great and horrible.

"Speaking of great wizards, I was hoping to speak to Professor Slughorn before we headed to the Great Hall."

Neville shook his head, "Haven't seen him tonight. To tell you the truth, Horace didn't seem himself the last few weeks of term last year. It's funny, after the Battle he was the only one who seemed to get younger for a while there."

Adam looked away, he wasn't ready to talk about that night with Neville. The Gryffindor was a legend for being one of the heroes of the second Wizarding War, and Adam was too embarrassed to compare notes when their experiences had been so different.

Neville seemed to take the hint, "I think it's time to head out." He stood and Adam followed, with a little tweak of pain from his ribs. "I'm sure you'll have time to talk to him in the Great Hall."

They started out when Adam remembered the dozing witch at the desk, "What about her?"

"Oh, no she's fine there."

Adam gave the witch a last look, but figured Neville knew better than he did.

They left the teacher's lounge and the Herbology professor led the way with the assurance of one who had walked the passages many times.

Now that he was in the castle proper, Adam saw that Hogwarts had lost none of its grandeur, none of its enchantment, figuratively speaking at any rate. He couldn't help but think of his last night there.

He had read all the books and Daily Prophet articles that had come out over the years, devouring as much information on that night as possible, and he had learned that some of the ancient spells that had been placed on the castle by the greatest witches and wizards of their day had been broken over the course of the battle by one side or another. Most had been recast, probably as a poor imitation of the original, but the full list of broken enchantments was impossible to know, as no one living was aware of even half of the spells the four founders had placed on the grounds, and those not living were reluctant to pass on what they knew.

He had not spoken to the school ghosts much in his time as a student. After all, his house ghost was not one for conversation and the others were largely uncaring about day-to-day affairs, trying their hardest to avoid the living, but he hoped now that he was a teacher he would have time to get acquainted with some of the older spirits, and possibly get some bits of little-known Hogwarts history out of them. Maybe they even knew what spells were placed on the stones that crushed his ribs.

Who knows, maybe he'd write his own book.

They came up to the door to the Great Hall, that back door that only teachers may use, and Neville stepped aside to let him go through first. Adam took the invitation without comment and stepped through into Hogwarts grandest space.

He stopped in awe. It was exactly as he had remembered it on his first night, with the high ceiling looking as if it were open to the clear night sky and hundreds of candles floating in midair. The older students were already packing the house tables, brimming with excitement. There was no food yet to complete the picture, but he had to take a moment before moving on, realizing that Neville had stepped aside knowing the effect would be grander if Adam went in ahead of him.

"Its never looked better, in my opinion," Neville snapped him out of it and Adam couldn't help but nod in agreement.

There were already a few teachers sitting behind the long table at the front, and the buzz was quickly building as they looked forward to the first-years entering.

He spotted Hagrid standing, actually more like towering, over Professor Flitwick and went straight for him. They had kept in touch over the years, or at least as much as the Care of Magical Creatures professor's lack of letter-writing skills allowed.

"Hagrid!"

"Adam! Good to see ya!" Both of Adam's hands disappeared into the half-giant's meaty paw as they shook. He kind of wanted to hug his savior, but figured better to remain professional in the presence of the rest of the teachers.

But, to his mild surprise, Hagrid drew him in and initialized the hug for him. It wasn't nearly as awkward as he had feared, aside form the fact that Hagrid was so much taller than him that he only came up to his stomach.

"It's good to see you, too," he said after they broke up. "And Professor Flitwick," Adam was sure not to ignore the head of Ravenclaw house and shook hands with him. Going from the large Hagrid to the diminutive Flitwick almost made him laugh, but he held it in.

"I was so 'appy when Minerva told me ya were going to teach," Hagrid told him as Neville came over and also greeted the two older men. "Being a Hogwarts professor is my favorite thing in the world."

"I'm sure I'm going to love it, too."

The half-giant took him on the side and bent to whisper in his ear. " 'Ave you spoken to your brother at all?"

Adam looked around to make sure no one was listening, but Hagrid didn't exactly whisper quietly. "He's...well, better," he lied. In fact, he hadn't spoken to his brother in years, and Hagrid was the only other person here who knew that, but the professor/groundskeeper nodded his wooly head.

"Good, that's good to 'ear."

Adam nodded, acknowledging his appreciation of Hagrid for letting him skirt the issue.

"Anyway, we better sit down, the new students'll be enterin' soon."

Adam took a seat between Hagrid and Neville. He had never seen the Great Hall from this vantage and took a deep breath to find his nerves calming. He was already starting to like his new position.

He looked up and down the teacher's table. There were a lot of faces he didn't recognize, there had been a lot of turnover in thirteen years. He saw Professor Trelawny, looking just as lost as ever, and that was about it besides those he had already greeted.

Neville noticed his confusion and ran through a quick list of each professor's name, subject and house, but Adam didn't catch much of it as the one he was really looking for, Professor Slughorn, was nowhere to be seen.

Someone else was also conspicuously absent. "Where's Professor McGonagall?" he asked Neville.

Neville looked at the empty headmaster's seat, the one Dumbledore used to occupy, as if he didn't even realize it was vacant. "Oh, yeah. She likes greeting the first-years so much that she still does it." Adam guessed her abilities were still quite expansive, despite what she had said about her age. Neville lowered his voice, like he was revealing a secret, "She won't let anyone else touch the Sorting Hat."

The Sorting Hat. He looked to where it was perched on top of the stool in front of the podium. It had whispered promises of greatness to him, of power and influence. It took the Hat some time to finish, and he wasn't happy with its ultimate decision, but he never questioned it.

He had missed out on being part of the most famous Hogwarts sorting of the last millennia by being born one month too late. If he had been born in July rather than August, he would have been sorted alongside a certain lightning-bolt scarred wizard, but instead he entered the school a year later.

The doors on the other side swung open, and Adam instinctively sat up straighter, wanting to make a good first impression.

And there was Professor McGonagall, or was he to call her Headmistress now, he didn't really know, leading the procession of eleven-year olds just as she had all those years ago. The soon-to-be first years' heads spun in all directions, trying desperately to take in this place of awe, which he knew first-hand was impossible.

Adam spared a glance at Neville, and they shared a laugh, had they really been that small and naive?

A little girl caught his attention, her unnaturally dark hair and pointed nose weren't the reason, but rather because she was one of only a few not looking in all directions.

She was staring daggers at the Sorting Hat, as if trying to master it even before she met it. It was more cold and calculating than any eleven-year-old should be. There was something familiar about her, but Adam couldn't quite place it.

He had no doubt which House she would be sorted in to.

The Sorting Hat sang its song, explaining the merits of each House and Adam remembered that the last he'd heard of the hat was that it had been burned almost beyond recognition.

And then Neville had pulled the sword, a true Gryffindor.

He supposed it had been repaired in much the same way the castle had been.

He barely paid attention as the children took their turns to be sorted: as Professor McGonagall read out their names and placed the Sorting Hat on their heads some went here, some went there. Neville clapped hardest for Gryffindors of course, but Adam couldn't blame him after all his House had meant to him over the years.

Then finally, it was the interesting girl's turn. Adam noted her name as Ambrosia Flint, and he wondered if she was the daughter of Marcus Flint, who had been Slytherin Quidditch captain during his first two years there.

As he suspected, it took the Sorting Hat only a few moments to declare her to Slytherin House, and for the first time he saw her smile. She finally looked like a proper child as she practically skipped to the Slytherin table, and Adam promptly forgot about her.

When the last student had been sorted into Hufflepuff (it always fascinated him how exactly five girls and fives boys were sorted into each house every year, no more, no less), Headmistress McGonagall turned to go behind the podium. She looked down the table at the gathered professors, and when she found Adam the corners of her mouth turned up in a little smile.

This actually scared Adam, as he had never seen her smile before. It was as if she knew something he didn't.

He looked up and down the table, not even hearing McGonagall's start of term speech about how she was stepping down as Transfiguration professor, as he made some quick calculations on the Houses of those present, or at least as much as he could remember from what Neville had told him.

"...And with Professor Slughorn's retirement..."

Wait? What was that? That wasn't possible, if Slughorn was gone then...

"...Please welcome Adam Cynon to the posts of Professor of Transfiguration and Head of Slytherin House!"

Thirteen Years Ago

Adam pushed his brother away from the collapsing wall, narrowly avoiding getting crushed by some bricks himself.

“We’re free,� yelled Pansy Parkinson, as that falling wall turned out to be the dungeon’s outer wall and moonlight streamed through into the Slytherin’s cell. Suddenly, the battle seemed a lot closer as the sounds of curses being exchanged were much clearer.

Mr. Filch had put them there as per Professor McGonagall’s orders, but it was only a few hours before the sounds of battle had grown to a fever pitch, and now a stray blast had set them free.

“We should go find the Death Eaters,� Pansy told the assembled House. “Draco is fighting with them, and we should be too.�

When Crabbe and Goyle had escaped with Draco, they had earned the admiration of many of their housemates, so most of them roared in agreement at the thought of joining the fight and started climbing over the rubble to get out. Adam’s brother started to do the same, but Adam held him back. “We should stay here,� he said. “The castle is still the safest place.�

“You can stay if you like, but I’m going with my House,� his brother argued. Adam let him go, then quickly followed.

Now

He knew the entire Great Hall was applauding for him, and he knew he was supposed to stand up and acknowledge it, but he couldn’t have heard right. There was just no way.

Neville gave him a bump with his elbow and Adam stood without thinking about it. He gave a little bow to the student body and his gaze fell on the Slytherin table. They seemed to be the least animated about the whole thing. As the applause died, he shot a glance at McGonagall and there was that smile again. Her trap had been sprung, and he’d fallen right in.

As the Headmistress announced a Professor Cavendish as the new Potions teacher, Adam retook his seat, applauding lightly as a pixie-like brunette at the far end of the table bounced to her feet. She giggled as she received the same half-hearted applause Adam had, slightly embarrassed by the attention, giving the student body a little curtsy as she did so. She glanced down the table at him, maybe looking for a sympathetic face since they were sharing a similar experience, but he could only think about the sudden onslaught of responsibility he had just been blind-sided with.

His favorite dish materialized on his plate, sent up from the house elves down in the kitchens, but he could only pick at it as McGonagall took her seat next to Neville.

Without him having to ask she turned to him and spoke, completely ignoring the fact that Neville was between them, “I’ll save you the trouble of coming to my office later. Horace surprised me with his retirement only last week, I was able to get Professor Cavendish to replace him, but you’re the only Slytherin teaching right now. I have faith in you, you’ll do fine.�

And that was the end of it, there was to be no discussion, she turned away and started her dinner. “Good evening, Longbottom,� she added as an afterthought.

“Good evening ma’am.� Neville looked at Adam for some reaction, but he was so angry he didn’t have one.

No, not angry, terrified. “How could this have happened?� he asked himself.

“It’s not like it hasn’t happened before, eh? Professor Snape got the job the same way after Voldemort died,� Neville said. “The first time I mean,� he was quick to add. “He was the only Slytherin who would dare show his face.�

“But that was only the year after it happened.�

“Yeah, but this time he’s gone for good, isn’t he?� They both looked to the spot by the double doors where a marked runestone had replaced the stone damaged by that final rebounded killing curse. “They must be keeping their heads down longer,� Neville finished.

Adam, really did need to get a closer look at that marker. “Maybe you’re right,� Adam said, taking a deep breath.

After the feast, Adam went directly to the Slytherin common room. Using shortcuts known (supposedly) only by the staff, he managed to slip into the dungeons well ahead of “his� house.

As he took in the opulent furnishings, the already roaring fire that somehow didn’t generate any smoky smell, and the dark windows that looked out on the bottom of the Black Lake, he remembered how cooped up he had sometimes felt in this space.

Oh sure, there were great moments as well, like the time he watched the giant squid scour the lake bed for an hour in search of a particularly resourceful grindylow, but the truth was he never really felt at home in a dungeon, and couldn’t really understand how anyone could.

The unmistakable sound of the door swinging open brought him back to the present. “His� house had arrived.

He heard them shuffling in, chattering about the feast and hypothesizing on the year ahead. When they caught sight of him there was a dead silence.

He could get used to the kind of respect.

He let the quiet linger until the door swung closed behind the Prefect that had shown them in, a strapping boy he realized he should know the name of.

It wasn’t normally protocol for the Head of House to greet his students when they came in the first night, but the position had been turned over so seldom, and almost never to a first-year professor, he felt he was allowed to rewrite protocol.

“As you know, I am Professor Cynon. I want to welcome you first-years to the most noble and traditional house in Hogwarts, and I want all of you to know that, even though I am new to teaching at this school, I will be sure to uphold the legacy of our legendary founder and the great Heads that have come before me.�

“Codswallop!� A student cussed from somewhere in the crowd.

Adam was quick with his ire, “Who dares! Come forward!�

The students parted to the sides, leaving one student alone in front of Adam. It was the little girl whom he had noticed at the Sorting.

She looked around to find herself abandoned by her housemates but, instead of capitulating, she decided to remain defiant.

“He...he was born in America.� Her accusation drew more than a few looks. In fact, he had been born across the pond, his father being an ambassador to the American Ministry of Magic, but his parents were both British and he had gotten his Hogwarts letter just the same.

“He never even finished school here, he spent his seventh year there! And...and,� she stammered, as though she had to continue talking to make her points more valid, “his mother was a Gryffindor!�

This was also true, and she hadn’t been all that happy when he and his brother had been sorted into Slytherin, but how did this little girl know this?

“My pureblood Slytherin parents,� now she was bragging, “wrote to McGonagall to protest his hire, and now he’s even been made Head of House! Just wait until my owl reaches them!�

There, she had puffed her chest out and said her piece, and now she shrunk away, scared of reprisal.

And Adam knew there had to be one. No student should get away with speaking that way to a professor. He had to be tough here, respond to so obvious a challenge so early in his tenure, but how?

He decided he would follow the example set by one of the greatest Heads of House Slytherin had ever had.

He put his hands behind his back and glared down at her as if she were an ant he could crush with a flick of his wand, channeling Severus Snape.

“Ambrosia...was it? Yes, that’s right, Ambrosia Flint. Miss Flint keep in mind that you will be in this castle, under my watch, for the better part of the next seven years. You will see me far more than you will your parents. I suspect you would prefer to be...comfortable during that span, so I suggest you learn to watch your tone.�

He was sure to pronounce every syllable of every word very, very carefully so they would sink in, and that seemed to do the trick. The first-year lowered her head in shame.

“Anyone...have anything...to add?�

The students from the younger classes looked away, but some of the older students held his gaze.

None spoke up. “Then...good night to you all.�

He started to the door, but then turned back, “And Miss Flint I will see you in my class tomorrow night for what may be the fastest earned detention in Hogwarts history.�

He strode out of the room, stiff and upright, and it was only when the dungeon door had closed behind him that he allowed himself to take a breath.

They seemed to have bought his bluff.

His next stop was the Great Hall, to view the marker. It was empty and quiet now, all the decorations for the Sorting ceremony had already been spirited away by some enchantment or perhaps by the house elves below. The enchanted ceiling showed a clear, still, late summer sky, giving the torchlit expanse the solemn feel Adam felt it deserved. As he approached the spot he found his heart catching in his throat, his breathing rapid with anticipation.

There were no words on it, just a single rune, the rune for unity. It was a good statement, it didn’t beg for protection, indicating that maybe those days weren’t over, but it also didn’t praise victory, serving as a warning to always be vigilant and stay together, lest those days come back. It gave off just the right feeling, gave viewers just the right subconscious thoughts, and therein lied a magic only the right word could conjure.

He stood over it in silence with his hands folded in reverence.

“It’s quite a thing, isn’t it?�

Adam jumped, he had not even heard anyone approach. Spinning around, he discovered why that was.

Hovering next to him was the large, translucent form of the Fat Friar, Hufflepuff House ghost. “Yes, it is...sir,� Adam stammered, not expecting to be face to face with a ghost this soon.

“Many new spirits joined us in this castle that night,� the Friar said, and then he floated out through the wall, leaving Adam alone again.

It was strange, the Fat Friar had always been so jovial, it was a little depressing to see him so serious, but he supposed respect was warranted.

He only lingered a moment longer, as he had morning lessons, and an evening detention, to prepare.

“Transfiguration is a precise and delicate art, not like the straightforwardness of your “swish and flick� instant gratification spells.�

Some mild laughter at the joke. Adam knew these first-years had already been to Professor Flitwick’s first Charms lesson and were taught that most basic wand movement.

“You have to picture your subject morphing, melding, taking on the very essence of what you are trying to change it in to. You have to exert your will on it, insist, through your wand, that it become that which it clearly is not.�

He was jumping right into the theory behind Transfiguration, something previously thought too heavy for first-years, but which he felt was needed for a solid understanding of that branch of magic so they could move forward with their studies.

He was pleased to see that they seemed to be picking it up quite easily. These students, after all, were more used to absorbing information in quick doses than his generation had been, thanks in part to the muggle technological devices that seemed all the rage now.

Interaction with muggles and their technology rose quickly after the 2nd Wizarding War, as it had became more acceptable to open oneself up to their way of life. With many of the pureblood fanatics out of the upper echelons of Wizarding society, the young witch or wizard no longer had to feel ashamed to know what the internet was. Indeed, many of those advances in communication had been made with the help of subtle wizarding influence, usually unbeknownst to the muggles.

Not that Adam had ever been on the internet. He supposed he was still a bit old fashioned, all he had deemed to know was how it effected the learning ability of his students, and that he had studied in various wizarding periodicals over the past summer.

He was pleased that that study seemed to have been worth it. As he did a quick perusal of his classroom, the same one he had learned Transfiguration in under McGonagall, he noticed that all the students were engaged in the lesson.

All but one. In the bright early afternoon sunlight afforded by the big windows of the ground floor classroom, the roots of her hair appeared to shine a bright yellow.

“Ms. Flint, are you with us?�

Ambrosia lifted her head from where it had been resting on her desk, negating the hair-brightening effect, but she didn’t answer.

“Don’t forget our little appointment this evening at 6:30,� he tried to sneer like Snape would have, but couldn’t quite bring himself to pull it off.

Instead, he turned back to the lesson.

The fact of the matter was, after the previous night’s outburst, he doubted very much that Ambrosia would ever be interested in anything he had to say, and he wasn’t about to lose any sleep over thoughts of changing her mind.

As if he needed more evidence, she arrived for her detention a half hour late, clearly a sign of disrespect.

“If you were in any house but my own, I would see you suspended, or at least, perhaps orchestrate a more severe punishment.� he told her, harshly pulling out a chair for her to sit in, which she did silently. “As it stands, I’ve decided you’re going to write lines. Better to start small, as I’m sure you’ll be here again, and we wouldn’t want to peak too early.�

He had to bite his tongue from laughing at his own dramatics and resist the urge to try to see the look on her face. No, better to ignore her as much as possible and appear totally serious.

As he cycled around to start back to his desk, she removed her quill and ink from her bag and sat poised to write. “What would you like me to write professor?� Her tone was that overly sweet sarcasm, and she emphasized his title like she didn’t believe he’d earned it.

Adam half-smiled, pretending it didn’t bother him.

It was going to be a long year.

Late September stayed unseasonably warm, and so it was still great weather to be outside after classes in the courtyards around the castle. Adam soaked up the sun, pouring over the latest issue of Transfiguration Today.

“Teddy, watch out!� he heard as a new group of students made their way outside.

He watched as a young Gryffindor he didn’t recognize threw a quaffle to a blue-haired boy that he certainly recognized.

Teddy Lupin. Teddy was of course the son of two great heroes of the 2nd Wizarding War, and with his godfather being the most famous wizard of the last millennium, he was already quite popular, even though just a third year.

He had inherited his mother’s ability to change his hair color and facial features, and his short locks turned a shade of purple in celebration as he caught the quaffle and tossed it back.

Adam envied him. In his school days, being that popular would have solved so many problems, but being incredibly average; average of height, average of weight, average of looks, average of skill, he often went overlooked. The plus side of that being he had been able to largely sail “under the radar� as the Muggles would say, through an otherwise tumultuous era in Hogwarts history.

He went back to his magazine, mostly to see how the wizard who replaced him was fairing in his old job, and left the young to their youth.

He had just finished an editorial on the cruelty of animal Transfiguration when a new ruckus caught his attention.

He looked up to see almost all the students crowded around one area, cheering. Normally, that would mean a duel or fight of some sort. He looked around the courtyard and saw that he was the only professor, so he got up and made for the circle of students.

“Out of the way, out of the way,� the students cleared a path for him.

When he got to the source of the commotion, he found a blue-haired dog whimpering on the ground, and standing over it, the one first-year he was afraid he would see, still brandishing her wand. “Now he looks like the dog his father was!� she announced to the shocked onlookers.

“Ambrosia Flint, what have you done?�

She looked at him with big, innocent eyes that indicated anything but innocence, “But professor, I was just doing as you taught me.�

“Explain!� Professor McGonagall’s voice quivered in an anger Adam hadn’t heard since his school days. He imagined her lips were pursed in that disappointed snarl and he was being stared down by those eyes that could be so cold when she wanted them to be.

But he couldn’t see any of that because he stared at the floor of the Headmaster’s office rather than look at her.

“You know very well who Teddy Lupin is related to, the ultimate sacrifice his parents made for this school! If this gets out they’ll make me fire you!�

“I...I never taught her that, I don’t know how she could have done that, it’s far beyond a first....month’s abilities.�

“It is quite advanced Transfiguration, to change a human to an animal, isn’t it.� McGonagall softened a little.

And Adam sought to take advantage, “That’s right! Even if I had taught her that spell, which...which I didn’t, she wouldn’t have been able to perform the spell to such an accurate degree with so little training in general magic.�

McGonagall eased back in her chair, thinking. “Were any other professors or older students present?�

“No ma’am, perhaps she picked it up at home?� he offered.

But she waved that off, “No, she would have had to practice such a curse, and if she had done any magic before coming to school, even by accident, the Ministry would have known about it.�

Silence passed between them for a few moments before Adam burst out with, “Professor, you have to believe me!�

“Adam, of course I do,� McGonagall surprised him, getting to her feet. “I know you wouldn’t do such an irresponsible thing. But where did she learn it and why did she blame you?�

“I don’t know that either, professor. This girl has challenged me since her first night in the castle, she has some kind of grudge.�

McGonagall put up her hands, resigned, “I’ll have to send an owl to her parents, but I’ll leave out the part about you and exactly who the victim was. As for Teddy, I heard he was able to change himself back after a few minutes.�

“Yes, that’s quite a talent he inherited from his mother. He changed back just as I was readying to perform the spell myself.�

She nodded before adding, “As for his guardians, well, I’ll have to expect they have enough trust in me to deal with it without knowing all the details.�

“Thank you ma’am, I appreciate that.� Now he was able to look at her again.

And immediately he wished he didn’t. “In the meantime Adam, get a handle on this...situation.� She held her gaze on him, and it made him wither anew, “The next time I might not be able to keep a lid on it.�

She couldn’t be more serious.

“Y...yes ma’am,� he gave a little bow as he turned to leave the office.

He was late to the Great Hall for dinner, and couldn’t help but notice a few heads turning in his direction as he took his seat.

“What did McGonagall say?� Neville asked in a hushed whisper.

“She believes me, at least,� Adam told him.

“Well that’s good news. And don’t worry, I know the Potters, if they say anything, I’ve got your back.�

Adam looked at the other professor, truly touched. “Thank you Neville, I really appreciate that, but the Headmistress said she’ll try to keep them, and me, out of it, so only if they say anything.�

“Of course, mum’s the word.�

Adam nodded, another thank you, before his gaze wandered across the room to the Slytherin table. There, despite the week of detentions placed on her, Ambrosia looked happier than he had ever seen her. Other Slytherins from all years were gathered around her, as if she was holding court, as she told the story of that afternoon. It seemed she had garnered herself quite a few fans for the stunt she pulled.

Adam looked across to the Gryffindor table and saw Teddy and his many admirers speaking in hushed tones and occasionally looking across the room to his assailant.

Could that have been her goal, so set the Houses against each other in earnest, back to the days just before the war?

Nonsense, how could a eleven-year-old have an agenda other than grades and friends?

He looked back to the Slytherin table, only to see that Ambrosia was not there. His eyes quickly darted to the back of the room, where he saw her heading for the door,

He knew for a fact her detentions didn’t start until the following day, so where was she going, leaving dinner so soon?

“Excuse me,� he told Neville as he rose from the seat, “I’ve forgotten something important.� He exited via the teacher’s door and quickly made his way around to follow his student.

He was careful not to be seen as he followed her into the spiral staircase where one would go down to the Slytherin dungeon.

As he was about to turn a corner he stopped, hearing hushed voices.

“I tried, but he didn’t get in trouble,� that was the girl’s voice, it was shaky with nervousness.

The other voice said something that was too low for him to make out, like a rush of steam on the air.

“Yeah, maybe with that spell,� came Ambrosia’s reply.

More steam.

“Next time then.�

He heard the girl make off for the dungeon, and then it was his turn to be nervous. He was on the middle of the staircase, if the other speaker came up towards him, he was caught. If it was an older, student, well then, no problem, but if it was another teacher, how would he react? He tried to back up as quickly, but noiselessly as possible, into the open corridor above, but he knew he would be too slow.

But then an odd thing happened. No one came up. He could hear one set of footsteps continuing to the common room, but only one.

Who was the other speaker?

Then it dawned on him.

“It was a ghost, had to be,� he told Neville the next morning as the Herbology professor tended to some gillyweed in the small water tanks he had set up after coming to the school. The Herbology greenhouses were decorated with all kinds of modern equipment and exotic fauna, very different from when they had taken classes there.

“I suppose it’s possible, they would be older, have more knowledge of magic, and not make any sound coming or going.�

“Exactly, but which one could it be? Who would teach her to do that, and who has a vendetta against me?�

“The Bloody Baron sounds like the type of chap that would do something like that, but he likes to keep to himself,� Neville thought out loud. “Why don’t you ask McGonagall?�

“I can’t do that yet, she told me to handle it, and I want to prove myself worthy of her confidence.�

“OK then, don’t ask her, but we both know someone you could ask.�

Adam took a deep breath; he had been hoping to avoid that. “Where would I find her?�

“You already know the place.�

The second floor girl’s lavatory. Long since made famous for containing the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, students and faculty alike still avoided it for the air of doom associated with Salazar Slytherin’s “gift� to Hogwarts.

It was the first time Adam had ever set foot in the place, and he still made sure it was empty of students before doing so.

Empty of living students, anyway. The bathroom had also become famous as the realm of the most well known Hogwarts ghost aside from the House ghosts.

It only took a second for Moaning Myrtle to fly out and get in his face.

“You don’t belong here,� she screamed, contorting her face horribly so as to frighten him.

It did make him squirm, although he had been expecting just such a welcome, “Hello Myrtle,� he tried to greet her as kindly as he could.

“I don’t know you! What do you want?�

“I was hoping to speak...�

“I don’t want to speak to you!�

Her voice got higher with every new phrase she said, and Adam had to scream over her, “Actually, I was hoping to speak to the other one of you here.�

The spirit paused, genuinely surprised.

“I was wondering if you’d come to see me,� a new voice emerged from the snake-fauceted sinks behind him, and he turned around slowly.

His voice caught in his throat as he faced a ghost that was among the youngest by Hogwarts ghost standards.

“Hello, Lavender.� Lavender Brown was a girl from the year above him who had died the night of the battle, a victim of the werewolf Fenrir Greyback. She looked just as he had remembered her, with long, curly hair and her Gryffindor robes. Although Neville had told him her spirit was wandering the halls, he had not been prepared to see it hovering in front of him, and he almost broke down into tears.

He had gotten to know Lavender a little in that final year, before things got really bad for Gryffindors. She had had a tumultuous relationship end with Ron Weasley the year before and they bonded over unrequited love, as Adam had had a crush on Pansy Parkinson almost his entire time at the school.

“How...how have you been?� What a stupid question, she’ll be the same forever, but he didn’t know what else to say. He could feel Myrtle’s eyes roll in derision from behind him.

“Okay,� Lavender said, and he was surprised to realize she actually meant it. “Myrtle’s been great company.�

She nodded to the other ghost. Adam turned to her and she stuck out her translucent tongue.

“I’m sure she has,� he said, trying hard not to lay on the sarcasm too thick. “But Lav,� he turned back to his classmate, “I having a bit of a problem.�

“The problems of the living have nothing to do with us,� Myrtle said.

Adam charged ahead, ignoring her, “A student of mine has been talking with a ghost,� he emphasized the last word to make sure Myrtle heard it. “A ghost that might be teaching her some dark magic. Do (either of you) know anything about who that might be?�

Lavender looked at Myrtle (through him, which was certainly a switch), and her look changed to that of worry.

Myrtle passed through him and he shook with the cold as she looked him in the face. “We don’t gossip about other spirits,� she told him.

Lavender started to drift off and he called after her, “I’m worried there could be more trouble.�

“We don’t talk about the evil ones, Adam, don’t take them on,� Lavender said as she drifted through the wall.

“Wait, Lavender!� he called after her.

Then Myrtle was in his face again, “You need to go now!� She bellowed, before disappearing into the wall herself.

“Evil ones?� Neville said as he watered a devil’s snare that he was keeping out of the sunlight under a sheet.

“That’s what she said.�

“Too bad I had a class, I reckon Lav would have told me more, though she’s been avoiding me for years. Did she mean like, an organized group, or in general?�

“That’s a good question.�

“Well, we only know of one right? So I guess we have to think that she meant it in general.�

Adam nodded, “Sounds better than the alternative.�

“An evil one that’s not talked about?� Neville took a deep breath, “we’ve heard that before, haven’t we?�

Adam’s heart jumped into his throat, “You don’t think? No, it could never be him.� The thought was too horrible to consider.

“Maybe you should go to McGonagall now?�

Adam jumped out of his seat, “It can’t be him, there has to be another explanation.�

He practically ran out of the greenhouses, even though he had nowhere specific to go. He almost didn’t hear Neville call after him, “I guess that’s a ‘no’ then.�

Top scholars had determined that, because his soul had been split into so many pieces, that there was no way the Dark Lord could have retained enough energy to be a ghost.

But the wizarding world still knew so little about how ghosts are created, and hadn’t the Dark Lord cheated the odds before?

No, there was no way. He couldn’t go to McGonagall with such a preposterous notion.

Ambrosia had spoken of a “next time� she would meet the ghost, he decided he would be there for it.