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 –kaftanâ€. 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.â€
The room was filled up with upbeat music. It went –Aaaaaahhhhh! Ahhhhhhh! Ahhhhhhh! Ahhhhh! Let’s dance!â€
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.â€
Halfway into the introduction, he stopped singing. –Under the moonlight,†he said thickly. –The serious moonlight.â€
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...â€
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 ...â€
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?â€
–Mr Weasley,†she trilled. –I just want to ask you a few questions about someone you know.â€
Ron raised his eyebrows. –You expect me to help you?â€
–Let’s just say,†she said in a conspirational voice, leaning closer, –I’m working on exposing a fraud.â€
–If it’s Harry, then I swear to Merlin I will--â€
–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?â€
Ron hesitated.
–He’s planning on writing a comeback book.â€
–All right.â€
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?â€
–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?â€
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 lipâ€. 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.â€
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.â€
–Yeah,†he said slowly. –Yeah, he had an annoying habit of banging on about his fans.â€
–Hmm. Is that all?â€
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.â€
–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.â€
He put a hand across his heart. –I’m shocked you think I’m capable of such treachery.â€
–I think you’re capable of more than this,†she said simply. –When are you meeting Beren?â€
–Tomorrow!â€
–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?â€
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.â€
–Of course, I will honour my--â€
–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.â€
–Rita, my dear--â€
–Meet Beren Greengrass tonight itself,†she cut him off. –If I don’t get my book-deal, I’ll break yours.â€