#5

Hogwarts hadn’t changed a day. No, it had been she who had done all of the changing. It bore that same smell that it had always done. A mix of sweets and learning. Liquorice. Liquorice and musty books. That was what it was. Beauxbatons was different. It smelt like sweet fresh water and macaroons. It was not nearly as warm and homely as Hogwarts, which wrapped around you like a blanket, but to her it had been home. The ornate halls and Louis XVI furniture had been stately and imposing but they had been all she had known for four years. Hogwarts’s inner workings had almost been forgotten.

And yet here she was, stood in the entrance hall with her sky blue cloak huddled around her against the nippy autumnal wind that was blowing in through the doors that students and teachers alike were filing in and out of. She had been abandoned by the person who had met her at the gates. Baldric Wood, the History of Magic professor. He had swept off in dark robes towards the grand staircase, informing her with a few words over his shoulder that he was going to find the headmaster, whom he expected to be instructing some of the first years down in the dungeons.

The Potions professor had apparently gone on sabbatical. The Divination professor, too, it seemed.

She had remembered Baldric from when she had been at Hogwarts. She had recognised him almost instantly once he had gotten close enough for her to see him properly. He remembered her, too. He had smiled widely and had given her a somewhat awkward hug. He’d taken her bag, as well, even though she had applied several charms to it to make it lighter and expandable on the inside. As they had walked they discussed the past few years. Britain had been through the wars, in some ways.

With Baldric, life had been relatively simple. He’d enrolled at the magical university at Inverness and as part of his degree he had done a teaching placement at the school. Theodore Rookwood, the headmaster, had liked him so much that he’d kept the former student on. The school had even decided to fund his tuition at the university.

He was an excellent teacher, from what she could glean, and he had ample experience. She could only claim the ability to tutor N.E.W.T students. This was all entirely new. She’d almost wanted to ask him how to do it and how to be good at it but he looked the type to have particular expectations of his colleagues – at the very least competency – and she had no idea if she could fulfil any of them.

So, while he had gone off to find the headmaster, she continued to stand in the entrance hall, soaking up the feelings of nostalgia.

“Welcome home, Professor Finnigan.”

Looking down from the ceiling that had drawn her eyes, Melissa Finnigan found herself looking at the headmaster of Hogwarts – a remarkably young man but one who bore a wisdom about him that belied the youth of his features. His smile was warm and easy as he approached her and she found herself smiling back at him. She decided he would be likeable. He had been kind and courteous in his letters to her, assuring her that if she had any questions, he would help her out.

She still hadn’t had the nerve to admit she wasn’t entirely sure if she was qualified for the job, however.

“I confess, I’m not sure I recall much of my time here.”

Her voice was smooth. It was far from the coarse tone that she had left Britain with in the wake of her father’s death. Her mother had made provisions for the twins. Uncharacteristically amiable, Lavender had offered her children a fresh start. Elliot, Melissa’s brother, had declined. He had moved in with their uncle, Arthur, and his family, and finished his schooling at Hogwarts. In truth, she wasn’t sure what he was doing now.

Melissa, however, had asked her mother what constituted a fresh start. It had been more or less a week after Elliot had moved out. She had still been undecided. Lavender had sat back in her chair, nursing a hefty glass of white wine despite the nature of her ex-husband’s death, and had admitted she did not know, though she did not see her future in Britain.

Together, they had planned out what to do. Over those following nights they found a flat in Paris and, a few owls later, Melissa was also enrolled in Beauxbatons. For the rest of the summer she spent time with her mother, dealing with her grief and working out the new country – and, indeed, new city – that they had moved to. The pair learned French, rather clunkily at first although proficiency came with time and practise, and they blended in. They became part of the culture. They took on the traits.

Thus, the voice that parted the rouged lips of the blonde woman only gave a hint of her place of birth and the barest touch of her heritage – although the baritone of the dark haired man had given her pause, the natural desire of her tongue wanting to slide back into an Irish brogue. She resisted and smiled coolly instead, offering him her hand to shake.

Smirking, Theodore turned it over and leaned down, his mouth brushing her knuckles.

“Hogwarts will always be here to welcome you home,” his words seemed like an echo of someone else’s and the look on his face more or less confirmed it in her mind but she enjoyed the sentiment all the same. She liked to think it was.

“It’s not changed,” she told him, taking back her hand. “Everything’s just as I remember it.”

He chuckled wryly, shaking his head. “More has changed than you know, love.”

Melissa raised an eyebrow. “With all due respect, Headmaster, I’m not your love.”

Rookwood had the grace to look abash and he inclined his head apologetically before passing his hand through the air, levitating her things.

“Come,” he encouraged brightly, forgetting the slight flash of temper from the witch. “I want to show you your rooms and then I think I should introduce you to our deputy headmaster. He will be … showing you the ropes, a bit.”

Melissa dutifully followed gracefully behind the headmaster, letting him weave through the thronging crowds of students piling onto the staircases to get to their next classes. She attempted to remember the route so as to make it to and from the great hall for dinner. It was futile, she realised. She did half remember the way to the kitchens, though. She had snuck out so many times in her first years at the school that she was sure she could do that particular path in her sleep even if the others were a bit hazy.

They reached the top of the staircase on the sixth floor and a door opened, clearly expecting them. Theodore invited her down a long, well-lit corridor. The walls were covered intermittently in large portrait doors, clearly marking out the rooms of the teachers. At the very end of the hall, the space swept out into a large common room that she supposed to be the staff lounge. A few people were there – two in the kitchenette portion, drinking coffee while three others were crowded around a table, furiously marking papers. This would be her soon enough, she realised with a start.

“Back here – that one.”

Theodore doubled up and stopped outside a portrait of a waterfall and lagoon. He smiled at her and she found herself watching the lagoon surface, feeling as though something would break through. Sure enough, something did. A beautiful mermaid broke through the water and lifted herself out of the lagoon to sit on a rock outcropping at the very front of the picture. Her hands went to her hair, a pleased look reaching across her face when she realised the headmaster was there, and Theodore didn’t hide his pleasure at the sight of her, either. Melissa fought the urge to roll her eyes.

“This is Professor Finnigan, Adela. Melissa, this is Adela. She’s your watchman.”

“Enchanté,” Melissa supplied immediately, only just realising how cumbersome the English had felt in her mouth.

“You haven’t visited me in a while, Theodore,” Adela crooned, ignoring Melissa altogether. This time, the witch couldn’t stop her eyes from turning over in their sockets.

“Well, love, you don’t have to worry about being lonely. You’ve got this company, now.” Theodore smiled indulgently at the creature. “Let us in, love?”  

She sighed affectedly. “Fine.”

The portrait door swung open and Theodore rattled off something about setting up a password with the mermaid. Melissa had no idea what would keep the creature sweet. Something to do with the headmaster, no doubt. The mermaid seemed particularly enamoured with the man. Melissa could understand why. He was magnetically attractive. But, for a painting of a mermaid, she would have thought any designs on his affections were something of a lost cause. Who was she to judge, though?

“So, this is you!” Theodore declared brightly, setting down her bags for her.

Melissa let her eyes sweep around the room. It was compact but she liked it. The four poster double bed dominated the room. Neutral curtains were hung about its frame with matching bedclothes adorning the mattress. The room followed a similar theme with dark wood and beige being the dominant colours. She had an enormous amount of shelf space and there was a trunk at the foot of her bed as well as a chest of drawers and a wardrobe. A door went off to what she supposed was the bathroom and a small seating area was closest to the door, facing the fireplace just off to the side of it. On the other side of the door was a table which she supposed would soon be covered in work things. All the same colour, more or less. Though Theodore informed her quickly it could be changed.

“It’s just … you know. Just clean and simple for whoever was moving in.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, setting down her bag before reaching to unpin her travel cloak. “This will do nicely. I think I shall set about changing things after dinner, before unpacking.”

Theodore nodded and let his eyes sweep across the neat figure of the witch before him. Once the cloak was shucked from her shoulders he was allowed the pleasure of viewing the formfitting robes she wore. Belted at the waist with a heavy silver buckle, the dark blue robes were cut in the European fashion. The neckline was square but expansive, revealing her sharp collarbones and the tops of her swelling breasts. The detailing was intricate; hand-sewn he was sure. They were her best robes, he decided, although he would be surprised at every turn after such an assessment. With her hair falling in soft curls over one shoulder, her beauty was striking. Even though it was her mind and talent he’d hired her for. But blimey, the witch herself did help.

“Headmaster, need I remind you that my eyes are up here?” Melissa’s voice was airy but her tongue was sharp with warning. Theodore swallowed.

“Not at all, lo—” He paused, clucking his tongue against the roof of his mouth as she lifted a sculpted eyebrow questioningly at him, as though daring him on pain of a curse to finish the word. “Professor,” he amended smoothly. Her lips softened from their tight purse into a satisfied smile.

“Good.”

“You’re…” Theodore cleared his throat. “You are next door to the deputy headmaster’s room so he will be on hand to help at any hour, with anything.” He winced, wishing that her mind didn’t go to the double-entendre that his had chuckled at him for.

“I do believe I understand the inner workings of my bedroom,” she responded tartly. “I shall solicit him during his office hours.”

Theodore nodded, swallowing again. He needed to get out of there, he decided. The witch was too level-headed. Too stoic. Too everything all at once. He gestured for her to follow him and put some space between them, ignoring Adela as he passed through the portrait door. He waited for the witch at the end of the corridor while she decided the password and pushed on once she turned to follow him.

Melissa was not certain anymore whether or not she particularly liked the headmaster. He was good at his job, she had to give him credit for that, but she neither enjoyed his penchant for terms of endearment when she was far from dear to him nor his wandering eye. She glanced down at herself, knowing that she should not have been so affronted by his stare. She passed a hand over the front of her robes and decided to let go of some of the tension she felt. Relax, she told herself furiously.

They made their way down a few staircases and it wasn’t long before Melissa had no clue where it was that she was headed, or where it was she had come from. The school was too big and the layout too hair-brained for her tastes. She had no idea how she was supposed to get on. Perhaps she truly would need the deputy headmaster at odd times of day – most probably to discern where she was and how to escape. She had a feeling he would be come rather familiar with her Patronus in that case.

Theodore slowed as they reached what she presumed was their destination. He brought his index finger to his lips and then, with his other hand, pulled down on the handle of the door he’d stopped outside. As quietly as possible he opened it up and admitted them into the room, closing it as soon as she passed over the threshold.

The classroom was enormous – tall more than anything, in fact, with a vaulted ceiling done out in the gothic style she quite admired. It was rather warm, too, despite the large expanse. It had an echo-y quality to it by the virtue of its size and that perfectly amplified the voice of the man at the front of the room, lecturing the students before him. Some, she noted, were taking notes feverishly, their quills moving at the speed of a Snitch. Others were rapt with attention, hanging off of his every word.

She could only hope that she was as effective.

Looking up, determined to put a face to the sound, she felt surprise dawn on her features. She remembered him, most definitely. It had been a few weeks ago when she had last seen him. Theodore had courting her for the position still and she had been unhelpfully non-committal. A visit to Hogsmeade with her friends, Alice and Oliver, had taken them to the Hogs Head – the newly renovated pub that was apparently the place to be. He’d been charming enough but that had been the thing – he’d been too charming. The offer to buy her a drink had been one she’d declined. And she was certain, actually, that it had been the headmaster that he had been with.

Seeing him in the cold light of day was a different experience altogether, though. He was even more handsome than he had been in the half-light of the bar. It was a shame he had to be, well, him, though.

Class finished not five minutes after they arrived and as the students filed out, Theodore pushed further in with Melissa following dutifully behind him. She was getting rather bored of following along behind him, though. She had forged her own path for long enough. She didn’t walk in the shadow of anyone else. Even if this was such a benign action, it still rankled with her somewhat. She disliked the helplessness her ignorance of the school created.

“Keiran!” Theodore positively beamed as they reached the dark haired man. Melissa took stock of the pair of them, wondering whether there was some sort of blood relation between them. They certainly seemed to be the sum of very similar parts. She filed that thought away for later.

“Melissa Finnigan, meet Keiran Hayes,” Theodore stepped back as Melissa moved forward, holding her hand out demurely to the wizard.

“Enchanté,” she gave him something of a coy smile before retracting her hand.

“Keiran’s going to be your helping hand for the first month or so, aren’t you mate?” Theodore clapped his hand jovially on the man’s shoulder. “As I said, all hours if need be but mainly with the teaching guff,” Melissa raised an eyebrow, wondering how he could be so blasé about it, “he’ll be handy. The best we have, this one.”

He turned and addressed Keiran. “Melissa’s taking over from Professor Pomegranate,” his eyebrows rose meaningfully. Both men knew what had happened to her. She’d upped and left all of a sudden and had been last seen heading into the Forbidden Forest. The centaurs had confirmed that they’d spoken to her but after she’d left them, no one had seen her since. Merlin only knew what had happened. They could only hope she was happy.

Melissa had read something about the woman in the Daily Prophet, though she had only read so much of the newspaper before deeming it a rag and putting it back down again. It had been too long. She also didn’t remember reading much of it even when she lived in Britain the first time.

“Best Divination student at Beauxbatons,” Theodore waxed, a talking résumé for her, clearly. Melissa bristled a bit at the praise, no entirely sure if she deserved it. “A proper Seer, too. Say, how do your visions come through?”

“Visions are rare,” Melissa responded formally. “They require a lot of magic and are very exhausting. I have only ever had one.” And that had come true, too. “My abilities work through skin-to-skin touch. When I was younger and had less control I had to wear gloves.”

“Huh,” Theodore grinned. “What did you see in my future, love?”

“Me hexing you for continuing to call me ‘love’,” she quipped instantly.  

Theo’s smirk widened. “I’ll leave you two to get better acquainted,” he declared. “Learn from him. Teach her to teach. All that garb. I’ll see you both at dinner – it’s in an hour, by the way.”

With that, Theodore bid hasty retreat, the door falling shut behind him. Melissa brought her hands together behind her back and lifted her head, her eyes flashing with quiet confidence as she met Keiran’s gaze.

“Teddy bears and little socks,” she voiced after a few beats of silence. “That’s what’s in your future. Although, I also sensed doilies but that doesn’t really mean anything if you don’t want it to. I think everyone’s grandmother has doilies in her house so experiencing them is in all our futures, really.”

She found a smile – a quick flash of her lips upwards, hoping she’d made something of a decent impression, even if her first one of him in the bar had been less than ideal. It was a new start, she decided. Everything was. Start. Start over. Start again.

Perhaps Keiran should have been in a better mood than he was, that morning. After all, he had been woken up early by the sound of an owl tapping at his window. His hands came up to pass over his face and through his hair. The tapping became more impatient, though, so he shoved the covers back and rolled out of bed. His feet hit the floor before his eyes opened properly, but when they did open, his eyelids revealed a pair of starkly blue eyes. They seemed heavy with sleep still, but when he caught sight of the owl in question, they brightened.

Keiran had to step over his shirt, shooting it a disdainful glance. Why hadn't he put that away? He made a note to do so after opening the window, and continued on. Once the latch was opened and the noise stopped, Keiran greeted the owl gently. She pecked at his fingers almost affectionately, and he let his eyebrows pull together curiously. What had endeared him to the owl was beyond him, but it registered as she got ruffled up when he reached for a treat. Ah, that would do it.

Of course, he had recognized the owl immediately. It was his best friends', and although he was still bemused by the fact that they shared one now, he looked forward to whatever was in the scroll attached to her leg. Perhaps it was because he parchment looked far nicer than anything Robin could be fussed to find, and a great deal neater than Avery's letters often did. She tended to write quickly and wherever she was, and Robin had never bothered finding non-crinkled pages. This one was pristine, which piqued the professor's interest without even trying.

He took the scroll from her, waiting until she flew off before pulling the window shut again and unrolling the scroll in his hand. The page was covered with a bizarrely fancy and curly script, and as soon as he laid eyes on the contents he knew what was happening. They had finally picked a date. A smile pulled at his lips, despite the fact that he was sort of losing both of his best friends in this deal. He had accepted the fact since their engagement, though, and he was set to be there for them no matter what.

Even if it meant that he would have fewer nights out with his best - and worst, one might argue - mate.

So despite how pleased he was for them, there wasn't the sheer happiness and excitement that should have gone along with such an announcement. He had much to do, as far as work went, and he couldn't help but wonder if he could just sneakily replace Robin with Theodore and prevent anyone from being the wiser. If nothing else, he would have someone there who was more likely to save him if he got to the point where he knew things had gone too far. He could never go through with what he started, as far as pub nights and unknown women went. But he had a grand time finding out if they'd let him.

He completely forgot about the shirt on the floor; his mind was too occupied for his typically tidy habits.

He was in a rather decent mood through breakfast and through the first few classes of the day. But then lunch came, and he had been forced to miss his usual meeting with the first years who wanted tutoring. He had sent a note to Livia, hoping she would be able to cover, but he never found out if she made it. Theodore was busy with something today, he was told, so it was up to him to reprimand an errant Gryffindor duo who had been more than a little bit reckless. They had been so disruptive that he had threatened to send notes to their parents and take away their right to play at the upcoming Quidditch match against Slytherin. Not that he would have minded.

Of course, that had shut them down quite effectively. And then he was free to head back to his office and get his things together before class started again.

When Theodore entered, Keiran hardly glanced his way. He would know his cousin anywhere, of course, so he didn't pay him any attention. Whatever he needed could wait until after he finished his lecture.

First years were easy enough to teach if you kept them interested. That's why the board behind him had a piece of chalk marking down the general formula for Transfiguration in giant letters. The desks in his chosen room were down a couple of steps from his teaching platform, and the chalkboard took up nearly the entire wall behind him. No matter where he stood, in theory, students could see the information he had going. It was loads easier than making up some sort of worksheet; Keiran couldn't be bothered to carry the stupid things and pass them out, anyway.

The Dangers and Limitations lecture was one of his favorites, particularly when it came to how important it was that they didn't take any stupid risks. They oughtn't, of course, transfigure something that couldn't untransfigure itself, then just walk away. That much was obvious. But the students watched, their eyes flicking between the board and their professor. All he was doing at the moment, really, was standing there with his hands in his pockets - his lifelong habit - and his gaze sweeping across the students to check for hands raised in question.

To finish off the lecture and encourage them to do the reading before the next lesson, when they would be working on their first actual spell-casting, he pulled out his wand and reached out towards the long desk behind him. A paperweight had been sitting there, waiting for him. If he were being honest, he was way too excited for his example, and tossed the object before it settled back in his palm. He repeated this twice, pretending he didn't notice the frowns coming from his students.

On his last go, he threw the weight much higher, startling students in the front row, before lifting his wand and speaking. "Avifors."

By the time the ball was descending, it had transformed into a bluejay, which gathered its wits fast enough to avoid crashing into the floor. The bird escaped to the rafters at the far end of room and the students turned around, wide eyes following the motion. A thoroughly-pleased smirk appeared on his face and he tucked his wand away, looking down at his feet. Tempering his pride a bit, his expression softened to an amused smile by the time he looked up again.

"See you next class," he concluded, leaning towards them before backing up and turning towards his desk.

All thoughts of the Headmaster had escaped about as quickly as the bird that now tweeted from its perch. He just hoped that the weather wasn't too cold for the little thing if they made it outside. He, of course, was only half-accepting of frosty temperatures. But he supposed he had to be, considering where he worked.

Back on topic, reader, he jerked back around when Theodore greeted him. He let his shoes scuff the ground a bit as he approached the steps that would lead down to the main level of the classroom. They weren't too tall, but the ran along the entire length of the room, so he gave his cousin a grin before turning his gaze on the woman who had apparently entered with him. He hadn't noticed her before.

One eyebrow lifted slowly, but he pushed it back down and gave a bit of a nod before glancing down at her hand. Yep, she was the same one. Surely Theodore remembered? Keiran lifted his own hand nonetheless, leaning down and holding eye contact until he had pressed a barely-there kiss to the back of her fingers and had righted himself again, releasing her.

"Pleasure's mine," he assured her in return, assuming quite simply that she had used the French in jest.

Theodore's voice drew the older man's gaze. Why did he imagine that Keiran wanted to be stuck with this job? Hayes wasn't sure, but he had a feeling that he wasn't hiding his surprise very well. In fact, he drew his chin back slightly and let his brow furrow before shrugging one shoulder in resignation. At least she was interesting.

But... all hours? Merlin.

Ah, so that was why. Divination. Theodore thought it would be fun to watch his cousin bristle and roll his eyes for the next month or however long it took for her to get her act together. Keiran looked to the ceiling, stuffing his hands away again in an effort to stop fidgeting. His lips rolled together briefly before he tried to appear more polite. She was sassing Theodore, which was a great sign. But the visions? Keiran had never believed in such things. Of course, he wasn't sure that Theo or his brother would have agreed with him on that front.

In truth, he was rubbish. He had never seen a thing, and had a hell of a time believing in things he couldn't see with his own eyes.

Theodore escaped, and Keiran was thrilled to note that, at the most, he would only have to deal with this for an hour today. It wasn't that he wasn't a nice, civil guy. He tried to be. But he had lessons to prepare and dinner to get excited about, and Divination to ignore. In short, he was swamped.

What was she on about? He knew that he had been looking at her but it was mostly out of curiosity. That was why she'd been at the bar. Keiran wanted to shake his head. Theodore, you clever sod.

But stuffed bears and small socks? He frowned, uninterested. He could do just as well without those things. Although, he mused, perhaps she meant Peter's son. The boy had his fair share of those things, surely? And Keiran sometimes watched him so Peter and Sarah could-

No.

Considering such things meant that he believed her, which he obviously didn't. Even if she was bizarrely compelling. Realizing that he was due to say something, Keiran offered a tight smile that wasn't really much of one at all.

"You'll forgive me if I don't take that too seriously," he said firmly, one corner of his mouth lifting of its own accord. She was expecting him to believe that his kissing her hand would tell her such things? He doubted it. She could think whatever she liked, though, if it didn't affect him.

"However," he began, turning and retracing his steps up to his desk, where he began to organize his papers into a neat stack. "I do think that Theo is correct. We should start discussing your plans, where your room is, that sort of thing. As long as I've been here, all Divination professors have liked the upper dome. If you'd like to head upstairs, we can take a look at it before we're due to introduce you in the Great Hall."

Upon being relayed details of her daughter’s first day at Hogwarts, Lavender Brown would be seated before the fireplace eating brie with fresh bread and a large carafe of wine. Her new fiancé, René would be sat next to her, a book in his lap, idly sipping from his glass after every sentence or so. When her daughter finally got to the details of her mentor of sorts, Lavender would look to her fiancé and the pair would share an amused look before laughing warmly. The blonde woman would then lean forward, closer to the fireplace, and declare that the man her daughter had met was an unbeliever.

The term unbeliever was one that added a whimsical, almost religious quality to what the Finnigan woman considered a very important art. Her mother and (nearly) step-father’s type, as well as the professor the former had studied under at Hogwarts, did little to bring academic respect to their subject. However, both had been writing articles for Diviner’s Monthly – and René had been publishing books – for years. They had contributed an invaluable wealth of material to their subject, even if the elitism and exclusivity that they felt it should enjoy only made them more laughable.

Also, the pair had developed a recent interest in Ichthyomancy and had been spending far too much time in the Boulogne studying fish for good sense. They were intelligent but their madness was undeniable.

The witch could see by the wizard’s body language that he held no stock in her subject. She felt she understood something of why just by seeing the subject he taught. He was an accomplished wizard, that she could see, but he seemed to deal in the earthy and the physical. She dealt in the airy and the indistinct, what she called the truly magical. It required a leap of faith. Transfiguration, and in many respects Charms and Potions, demanded no such commitment from its practitioners.

The surprise on his face had, in turn, surprised her, however. She would have imagined that the headmaster had at least told his second in command what was going to happen. She had been informed the mere basics herself but she had thought that senior members of staff would have understood what was to happen. He didn’t even seem to realise she had been coming—although that she forgave herself for imagining. She would never be as important to Hogwarts as the core subject professors.

Hers had been damned as rather woolly by an incredibly important pillar of British wizarding society long ago. Its importance in education had been relegated to virtual anonymity in Britain ever since. She couldn’t believe how quickly she had already begun to yearn for the continent. At least her tutors at Beauxbatons had never doubted Divination’s importance. Had she made a mistake in turning down the post when Professor Henri vacated it that summer? Quite possibly.

“Your future is quite settled,” Melissa informed him, her voice light, as though inviting him to the prospect of further disregarding her predictions. “The pictures are incredibly exact. There’s plenty of room for change, of course, but those two are most definitely in your near future.” She raised her eyebrows playfully, a smile curving her lips upwards. “Maybe start planning now. Just so you’re ready.”

She remained where she was as he moved towards his desk. She let her eyes flick quickly over his retreating figure. She couldn’t deny the hum of attraction that she felt coiling in her belly. Her fingers still tingled from where his lips had grazed over them and she was determined to convince herself that it was down to the force of the pictures. They’d jarred to the forefront of her mind, bypassing all of the occlumental barriers she had put up in order to protect herself from bombardment. She had been lying to Theodore – she hadn’t been looking for his future – but Keiran’s had presented itself to her for reasons she couldn’t decide. They would reveal themselves with time, she was sure.

“The curriculum here is different to that at Beauxbatons,” she informed him. “Although I have read all of the prescribed textbooks.”

The productivity of that weekend had been unparalleled. She, Alice, and Oliver had found themselves a pretty café in a leafy part of wizarding London and had worked their way through all of their work for the coming week. Melissa had gone through seven cups of hot chocolate by the time she put the last textbook down. Alice had taken a break and took her quill from her mouth, the question of how Melissa found the curriculum already dancing off of her tongue by the time she’d lowered the quill down.

She didn’t like it, in short. It showed on her face and was evident in the disdainful turn of her tongue as she said the word. It was the kind of Divination her mother loved – mad, not practical. There was little in there that students could take into the wizarding world. Beauxbatons was different in that regard, to the extent that Alice – who had never particularly taken to the subject – read her tealeaves every morning. Most, at a bear minimum, consulted the cloud glass that they had all been given as first years to determine whether their day would be good, bad, or in the middle, and prepare accordingly. Hogwarts seemed to breed, well, unbelievers.

“I don’t have my timetable, either, so I was unable to plan accordingly before I arrived.”

It was as though Theodore seemed to consider the same thing at that point in time. A bang sounded on the table behind her and the witch turned to see that a stack of books had landed on the desk. She moved forward, her hands fluttering to the sides. She could sense the headmaster had recently handled them, or at the very least his magic had. On top was the aforementioned timetable as well as a scribbled apology for his behaviour. The stack of Divination books – she glanced at their spines – were to keep her sweet.

She looked to Tuesday. Her first lesson, blessedly, was with third years. She could at least start at the very beginning. She had no idea what state she’d find the seventh years – her seventh years now – in. She had enough time to construct an introductory lesson. She would start with the cloud glasses, she decided. It would take very little to transfigure a class set of them – although a professional in that field would be abler to do it than she could. She had always been better at Charms.

“Third years,” she announced, turning back around to face the professor – her colleague, now. “I’ll begin with the basics. Everyday Divination that they can use. Perhaps some Tessomancy, too, because what Brit doesn’t like tea and biscuits?” She smirked a little bit and set down the laminated parchment.

“I don’t believe I have been informed of my mandate,” she admitted, crossing her arms over her chest, her brows furrowing a touch. “Headmaster Rookwood merely hired me – or at least it certainly feels that way. To what extent did my predecessor prepare last year’s sixth years for their N.E.W.Ts? I am concerned that the outgoing professor did not adequately equip them to handle the examinations and I resent, very much, being burdened with reforming them and being judged on what is, in real terms, only nine months’ work with potentially incredibly varied results.”

I also sincerely doubt my ability to fix it, she wanted to add. She left it unsaid, however.

“Is the upper dome well lit?” She asked, wanting to backtrack somewhat from what she felt was an outburst of temper that did not need to be left at the Transfiguration professor’s door. “I would like a lot of light. It is not a shadowy art, after all.” She smiled a bit, finding some humour in her own words.

“If possible … is there … is there a trick you know to getting around? It’s been years since I’ve been here. The only route I know is the quickest from the seventh floor to the kitchens and back without being seen by the prefects and that does not necessarily help much.”

Keiran had to choke back the snort that was readily available at his lips when she tried to convince him that her claim was realistic. It didn't seem to be worth arguing over it, though, so he pushed away his irritation. It was obviously not something that she would drop, considering her profession and interest in the area. Of course, she didn't seem too impressed with the bits and pieces she was expected to teach.

Or, at the least, she was unimpressed with the literature on her subject. He couldn't disagree, really. There were some fairly questionable ones for Transfiguration, as well, though he had considered sorting out better ones someday.

Keiran was ready to blame Theodore for his frustration, though. If the request had been made, if he had known how serious and just... irritating the woman would be - well, of course he would've said No. A firm No despite his cousin's best efforts.

It was just lucky for the Headmaster that she was attractive. Otherwise, Keiran wasn't sure he could've put up with it.

"I'm afraid I haven't the foggiest as to your timetable, either," he informed her, just in time for the resounding thud of the books and things that Theodore had sent her. Finishing rather lamely, he added, "I'm not the one who plans those things..."

Lifting the stack of papers he had collected and sliding them into his folder, Keiran tucked them under his arm, letting that hand settle along the side of his thigh and the other return to its hidey-hole. He did his best to hide the boredom that set in when she began using terms he had long since forgotten the meaning of. Perhaps it wasn't boredom, really. Keiran didn't accept this possibility, but it wasn't as though the woman in question seemed boring. No, there was something particularly intriguing about her. Likely, as far as he was concerned, it was to do with the fact that she had very clearly told him to piss off. More than that, she was now stuck with him. And that couldn't be anything but amusing.

However, he had never understood Divination, didn't want to, and yet when she spoke about it Keiran could practically see the passion she felt for her subject. And that was most certainly interesting.

"I'm more of a coffee man, myself," he returned with a bit of a smirk designed to match hers, making his way back down the steps and leaning against the desk across from the one that now held her set of texts.

She turned the subject back to him, in a way, and he frowned right back. As if he knew such things if Theodore had not told her. The more she spoke, the more he wished he knew the answer, if only because he could lead her to the classroom and hopefully change the subject. He knew it was his job to help her with the problems she was posing, but the feeling of inadequacy wasn't dissipating. Why did she speak so sternly? It wasn't like she was still in an interview. She needed to loosen up.

"Melissa, was it?" He began slowly, lifting one eyebrow. He waited for her to confirm it somehow before continuing on. "Right. Listen, Missie. If you want to fit in here, you're gonna have to ease up a bit. At least outside of lessons. Titles aren't necessary for your colleagues, and I wouldn't count on anybody having the slightest clue about the previous lessons and how poor or well-done they were. Frankly, the students are the only ones who will be helpful for you there.

"Why don't you just start with a little quiz? Even if it isn't marked. See where they're at. But I should be the last person you expect answers from when it comes to your subject." Lifting a shoulder, he went on, "Theo might know something. It would be fun to watch him get riled up if he doesn't, anyway, so perhaps you should ask him. Even if he doesn't like it, I'll get a massive kick out of it, so by all means."

Her next line of inquiry was much more suitable for his realm of knowledge, so he nodded, gesturing towards the door. "Always seemed that way to me. If not we can always work something out. Natural light, I'd assume, would be preferred? I'll show you where it is."

Just as he started to lead the way out, he realized that she now had all of these books to carry with her thanks to the Headmaster. Going up and down the stairs and then finding a place for them at dinner would be quite a monster of a task. He paused, pulling out his wand and opening his folder. One of the pages he didn't need was ripped, the corner torn off. That piece he held out in his palm before transfiguring it into a pouch. That pouch was charmed to hold more than it appeared to, and he stepped around her, setting the books inside it one at a time.

That pouch was then held out to her without a word, not half because she was already speaking. After a moment, he found his first genuine smile for her arcing across his lips.

"It takes a bit of time," he conceded. "I've got a map in my quarters I can give you after dinner. The key is to figure out when the stairs feel like moving about," Keiran mused aloud, leading the way out of the room and holding the door open for her. As they started up the first set of stairs, he determined that it would do well for him to at least appear more friendly than he had before. Because, really, he was a rather lovely chap when he wanted to be.

"I'm afraid you've caught me on a rather off day. I don't intend to be this unhelpful all the time, I assure you."

Later on, long after dinner, Melissa would sit down, pour herself a glass of wine and consider his words. In the moment itself, she was more concerned with trying to keep the shock off of her face. Later, she would muse that perhaps she could have been less, well, different. She should have been able to pick up the mood at Hogwarts, from both Baldric and Theodore. She’d missed it, despite being a rather intuitive witch. She had taken almost too much of Beauxbatons with her, even if the curriculum far out-stripped the one that Hogwarts had been using.

While out for dinner with her friends in mid-week, Melissa would bring up the comment and Oliver would give her a look over the rim of his glass and ask why she had been dwelling on it. Because it confirmed what she’d suspected and that was she was entirely wrong for the job at hand. She had planned to be entirely professional at all times and be exacting in the same way the professors she had studied under had been. She wanted to make up for all of the swirling feelings of inadequacy and the anxiety of it being her first real job, one she did not feel qualified for, by being perfect.

“Not everyone’s going to understand why though, sweetheart.”

Between them, Alice and Ollie were the perfect pseudo parental team. Alice soothed her worries, reassuring her that everything was going to be okay, and Ollie produced some practical advice that left Melissa feeling a little bit more optimistic about integrating herself with her colleagues. In that very moment, she could have done with their wisdom. The surprise had made its way onto her face, too. It was damn near impossible to keep off in the end. And was that a touch of hurt, too?

And just where did he get off – Missie?! She bristled at that one, disdain replacing the other feelings almost entirely.

She also sincerely doubted that Theodore would know anything about Divination, the subject itself or its manifestation at his school. He looked to care about as much as his Professor Hayes did. “You’re on your own then, kid,” her father would have said.

“I have a name, thank you very much,” she huffed, “use it correctly. And I will remember, in future, to forget posing questions about the school to its deputy headmaster.”

She had half a mind to turn on her heel, then, and leave. There was, however, the problem of finding her way back to her room or, at best, out of the castle altogether. She already had something of a plan in mind – she could go back to Beauxbatons and study Charms for a few years and take over from Professor Renard. But then … she’d have to look her mother in the face and tell her she’d let someone get under her skin and put her off of her job. She would have to admit she had failed before she had even begun. Her pride wouldn’t allow it.

He seemed a less irritated by her with his follow-up and Melissa didn’t know whether or not she should be reading into any of it. She nodded, appreciating the suggestion.

She was relieved that they were making their way out of his classroom, even if she did resent having to carry the books Theo had been so kind as to leave her. She would have sent them along to her room but she had no idea whether they’d make it or not so she put a feather-light charm on them – mainly because there were no pockets in her robes – and sufficed to carry them. He surprised her, though. Again. This time for good.

Melissa blinked at him as he created the bag and proceeded to pop the books inside. She took it, gratefulness shining on her face. She murmured an earnest thank you and pulled the drawstrings together before slipping them over her wrist. She fell into step beside him, her long legs allowing her to keep up with him. She thanked him again for opening the door, offering him a bright enough smile. The witch, it seemed, had begun to relax. Not a lot but just enough.

“It’s alright,” she replied, her hand falling to the banister as they climbed the staircase. “I’m not really on form, either. I’m just …” she shook her head. If the welcoming and easy-going Baldric wasn’t someone she could confide in about her concerns, the tempestuous man beside her definitely wasn’t. “Never mind.”

“Maybe we should start again?” She suggested hopefully, stopping at the top of that particularly staircase that was beginning to shift. She held out her hand. “Melissa.”

"Yes," Keiran replied immediately. "You do have a name. And I did use it. Or are you picking which things you wish to listen to? Eventually, you'll learn that nicknames are a good thing. But I am more than happy to revert to the formal, professor. And you needn't be petulant about it. Divination has never been a key subject here, so why should I be prepared to give you stacks of information about it? Just because it isn't yet doesn't mean you can't make it that way, though, so perhaps you should step up and do something about it. No one else here can, so if you want it bad enough, you'll make it happen."

He lifted his eyebrows as if to ask, "right?" Keiran didn't think he sounded too harsh, really, considering he could have completely left off the bit about her potential to do something good for the school. He could have said it with a much more terse tone of voice as well, but it had been offered instead with one of disappointment. Yes, in her. But that came from his belief that people chose the teaching profession because they wanted to make a difference, not because they wanted to be stiff and unfriendly and pretentious.

But that was his temper getting the better of him, not an accurate representation of the way he genuinely felt about her.

Her thanks surprised him enough that he stopped in his steps and gave her a wide grin, his eyes crinkling a bit at the sides. It was there and gone in a flash, with something of a laugh that was really just a breath out. He sometimes forgot the truth about himself which stated that gratitude, above most other things, won him over. Gratitude, appreciation, humor, and advice could turn his mood around entirely, even if two of those were rather selfish. Entirely selfish, actually. But he wasn't a Slytherin exclusively for his ambition, was he?

The fact that she nearly confided in him gave Keiran another thing to add to that list. Even though she apparently couldn't go through with it. Of course, he had no reason to blame her on that score, because he hadn't been the friendliest of hosts thus far, nor the most helpful of mentors. He may not have signed up for it, but he knew full well that he should have been more prepared and more willing. He did catch the way he deflated when she changed her mind, though. He had looked up in surprise and curiosity, but turned his gaze down to the steps and Keiran nodded instead.

"First day jitters," he suggested, hoping to make it a bit easier, and to dispel some of the awkwardness that had seeped into the air between them.

As the staircase jolted beneath them and started rotating, Keiran came to a stop beside her, registering that despite his position and her knowledge in areas he couldn't begin to discuss, they were on an even keel, an even playing field. They had to be. But that didn't mean he wouldn't be pedantic about her name, later. At that moment, however, there were more important things. Like making sure she didn't quit and, in turn, Theodore didn't kill him. She was their best shot at having a halfway-decent Divination department, and they all knew it. Above all else, he loved the school, and wanted it to succeed.

"Keiran," he replied simply, extending his hand to match hers. It was entirely lost on him that she would be open, yet again, to whatever images might decide to surface or betray him to her.

He held onto her until she deemed it fit to pull away, his eyes never leaving hers either. He took stock of the situation afterwards, pointedly ignoring the fact that his pulse felt a bit quicker than it should have. The staircase had altered the path they were supposed to take, but it hardly mattered since another had shifted above them. So he started off again, trusting that she would follow him.

It seemed to be in his best interest to keep his mouth shut until it was absolutely necessary for him to speak, which came as he stepped into the classroom he thought she would wish to claim. They had a few others, but this one had always been his second favorite - besides his own, obviously. Light was streaming in through the windows, though it was the dregs of the day's glow at that point. A few rays struck across the tops of desks, with flicks of dust floating within the beams of lights.

"It may need a bit of, well, fall cleaning," he offered with a shrug, "but I didn't realize you were coming, so that's not been done yet. At any rate, I figure it's got quite the charm to it."

Stepping into the room proper, he ambled about, waiting to see if she approved, and ended up standing at one of the windows, gazing out over the grounds. "I never understood the subject, but I always loved the view," he confided, hoping to fill the silence with something more positive than their earlier attempts.

In one moment, he made her want to push him off of the staircase to an early death. In the next, he made her feel like he got it. He understood. Millie looked up from the portraits she’d been inspecting that were thick on the walls. She’d been hoping to find a familiar face in there somewhere, something she remembered of the school. Instead she found someone who did genuinely seem to get where she was coming from, even if he seemed irritated with her for being so. She wasn’t carrying herself well. That she knew. She couldn’t help but feel confused by him, though. Did he like her, did he not? Was this going to be a long, long month?

“They’ll have nothing on tomorrow,” she joked, her features taking on a gnawing look of anxiety. It would be a sleepless night, she was sure of it. The jitters would not even come close to the full blown panic attack that would no doubt ensue in the midst of getting dressed the following morning. She bit the inside of her cheek and tried to shake herself out of it, tried to think about something else. Him. Think about him. He was easy enough to think about, given he was right in front of her.

She slipped her hand into his and braced herself. She was no readier this time than the last. The beating, living images of his future dashed under the shields she had spent years tirelessly refining to keep such things out and they filled her very consciousness, plucking at every sense to the point where she was sure she had heard the bell-like tolls of laughter. She was stunned by the strength and the vividness. It was almost as though she was there.

They abandoned her as quickly as they appeared, her reluctance to dip into the warm waters of his future letting them disappear. Yet, she couldn’t quite bring herself to let go. She couldn’t deny that there was something in the feel of his hand, gentle yet firm around hers. She felt almost breathless for it, though she was sure it had something – everything, she tried to convince herself – to do with his future. Seeing it had made her silly, that was all.

“I’m going to have to find a way to keep you out,” she said with a little laugh that played off some of the seriousness as they set off once more. “My occlumency must not be as good as I thought because your future it’s just … wham. Completely …” she shook her head, unable to quite articulate herself properly on the matter. She’d never experienced anything quite like it, not since she’d been young(er) and out of control of her powers.

The last little leg of the trip up to what would be her classroom was the most pleasant of all but nothing was as wonderful as stepping into the room itself. She had asked for natural light – Hogwarts had most definitely delivered.

“Honestly, I didn’t realise I was coming, either,” she replied softly, letting her hand trail across one of the table tops as she passed on the way to the windows. The grounds were beautiful. That she had not forgotten. In the light that was beginning to warm with a sunset, it was picture-perfect. She only wished she’d brought her camera from home.

“It was accidental, really. I wasn’t even going to do anything this year, apart from travelling, maybe. Then Rookwood sends an owl out of the blue and, well, my family thought it was a good idea. I guess we’ll all find out tomorrow whether it was or not.”

A shy smile pulled at her lips and she stepped forward, her hand coming up to touch the cool glass.

“Well, if I’m any good. Maybe you’ll change your mind, hm?” She teased gently. “Why Transfiguration for you?”

"I can't imagine that there's a whole lot to it, to be honest," he replied, looking over at her. "I've gotten... well, nearly everything I want out of life. But I can't quite help the last thing, so I've taught myself to be content with it."

Keiran wasn't quite ready to explain what exactly he meant by that, and turned his gaze back to the path that was set before them in hopes that she would drop it. As they entered the room and he settled by the window, she spoke and drew his attention away from the grounds and back onto her.

He wanted to assure her that she would do well, which surprised him. Perhaps there really was something about this room. No matter how thoroughly frustrated he had felt in class whilst sitting there, there had always been some sort of overriding calm about the place. Perhaps it was the fact that he could see the blues of the sky and the greens of the forest. He had a grand view out of the side windows of his own classroom, though it had a bit more of the lake than the sky in that case. But he didn't mind it so much. Maybe he wouldn't have minded being a Ravenclaw, if Slytherin hadn't been an option.

Ah, but that was just vanity.

Melissa moved across to the windows as well, and he turned his shoulders to face her as she approached. Her hand reached for the glass and his own hid as he folded his arms across his chest and leaned one shoulder up against the pane. The light only dashed across part of his face, but she was properly bathed in it. Luckily for him, he wasn't blinded as the light missed his eyes and cut across his cheeks and jaw instead.

When he looked down at his feet, where one crossed over the other to keep him balanced, he ignored the sudden blindness that attacked before he righted himself again.

"I was... expected to go into Potions," he explained, choosing his words carefully. "My father is particularly well-known for it, and my brother followed suit. There are some perks to being the youngest, though," he added with a bit of a smile, turning so he could lean his back against the window fully and relax against it. His eyes took in the room again as he went on.

"Following instructions was too easy. Ingredients, heat, stirring... it just didn't hold me the way it does them. That's not to say that I think less of them for it, because I don't. Not really." His eyebrows pulled together and he paused for a moment, considering whether or not that statement was true. "It isn't fair for me to say the work they do is easy. My father works tirelessly to create new things that will help others. He has that Gryffindor spirit in him, I suppose. That goodness in him. My brother was the same, but for different reasons. Hufflepuff that he is, he always had that goodness, too. I found my calling in... changing things. Sometimes for the benefit of someone, sure," he shrugged one shoulder. "But often times it's just convenient to change something into another thing that fits better. It just makes sense to.

"Perhaps," he mused quietly as he pushed off of the window and started back towards the door, "I'm just not.. good enough."

Stopping in the middle of the room, he spun abruptly to face her. Surprising even himself, he lifted his chin and prepared to take the brunt of his own self-deprication. "Divination is meant to help people. I know that. And sometimes what I do does the same. But I never believed enough - in other people, ...in myself, maybe. Not until I found that transfiguring things was something I understood, something I excelled at. And by then, there was nothing else for it."

With that, he drew in a breath, staring at her and the way the fading light framed her in that window. Then he cleared his throat and looked away.

"I think we should go. Theodore is expecting us at dinner."

Content was a phrase that Lavender Brown would have scorned. Did scorn. The flew in the face of contentedness. She had to be entirely, splendidly happy in order to be calm and stationary. She had been running after happiness her entire life. She’d found it, her daughter thought. Now, anyway. The younger of the two blondes was more like Keiran in the respect that she was content. She liked the familiarity and the stability of contentedness. Moving back to Britain, moving back to Hogwarts, was the closest she’d come to mirroring her mother’s caraway intent on seizing what she wanted. She didn’t even know if it was what she wanted. She’d just gone for it. Lavender was proud, anyway.

“I don’t think your life is over yet,” Melissa pointed out with a wry smile. “I’ll work on it – see if I can’t get those itty-bitty socks out of my head.”

The view was enough to steal the nagging concern of his future from her mind. The wryness of her smile smoothed away and she sighed happily, eagerly looking forward to the mornings when she could step out and run around the lake, retrace her former steps and seek out her old haunts. Perhaps it had been a good choice to come back – to come home? – after all.

She turned to watch as he began to speak, her eyes flicking intently over his face as she absorbed every word. She had always been a quick study. With people, her results varied. She had never had anyone explain anything about themselves, openly, with such detail, however. She found herself almost worrying for him, though she didn’t think he’d want her to.

She made to follow him almost immediately and ground to an abrupt, starting stop when he turned back to her. She brought her hands together in front of herself and looked at him hesitantly, wondering if she should say something. In the end, she smiled at him. She hopped down from her spot and crossed the room to him. She reached out, gently curling her fingers around his.

“I think you’re good.” She told him earnestly before lifting her hand up from his to nudge at his cheek with her knuckles. “A bit of a git – but good. And, remember, you didn’t just choose Transfiguration. You also chose to teach. You are good. That’s more than enough.”

She drew herself up and inhaled before smiling brightly and letting go of the breath. She breezed past him before they got sucked into prolonging what she definitely thought constituted as a moment. Alice would have a field day when she found out. Maybe Melissa would hang onto that one for just a little bit.

“I think I remember the way!” Her voice pealed with delight as she exited the room.

I told you she was a quick study, didn’t I? Well, for all of her anxiousness, she did pay attention to the routes she had taken with the headmaster and with the Transfiguration professor. Putting the two together was easy enough and they soon arrived outside of the Great Hall, the blonde shining with pride and more than a few stray stray sunbeams.

“Oh,” she drew up just before the doors, falling back rapidly to his side. “Where do I sit?”

"Please do not gift me tiny socks for Christmas."

His humor had been thoroughly thrown out the window by the time Melissa jumped down from the windowsill. In fact, despite the rush that being so honest and contemplative had given him, he regretted telling her for a breath of time. The last thing he expected was for her to touch him again, nonetheless twice and so nearly intimately.

Sometimes it's the very people who no-one imagines anything of... who do the things that no-one can imagine.

The quote flickered through his head the instant she brushed her fingers across his jaw. He didn't know what exactly his brain was trying to tell him with that, but he got the feeling that it was incredibly important. Or was it Melissa who was important? Keiran shook it away as she smiled and walked past him towards the door.

She had a point, to be fair. And he wasn't sure if the thought hadn't hit him whilst he was talking. His decision to work with kids had never been lost on him. He didn't know why, really, but that moment of inner turmoil felt good. Violence, even inwardly, felt good. He never allowed himself to think, to wonder, about what other sort of life he could have granted himself. Not in front of anyone who would want to give him some sort of commentary, anyway.

As they left the room and he lingered a bit, allowing her to find the way back herself, Keiran tried to convince himself that he regretted it.

She turned to him as they approached the Great Hall, though, her question drawing his gaze up from the floor. "Knowing Theodore?" He asked, his lips quirking up in a little smile. "Next to me. Apologies in advance, professor."

With that, he moved on into the hall, catching sight of Theodore at the centre of the staff table. Sure enough, there were two seats open. One was his usual seat, next to his cousin, and the other was the seat between Keiran and Baldric. Hayes gave his cousin a glare that was mostly in jest, but still held a bit of that irritation he felt. Still, he didn't say anything as they came around the table and he pulled out her chair before sinking into his own.

The students filed in and when it was about time to start, Keiran looked to Theodore and nodded. If either of them was going to be the stern, reprimanding one, Keiran supposed it was going to be him. So he stood up and waited for the attention to turn towards him.

"I'm sorry to hold up your dinner," he began, holding up his hands in a sort of surrender. "I know it's everyone's favorite meal of the day, breakfast aside. But I need to introduce you to our newest staff member. Starting tomorrow, Divination classes will begin again, led by," he swept his hand towards the blonde, "Melissa Finnigan, a graduate of Beauxbatons.

"Professor Finnigan is impressively well-versed in her craft and is - I assure you - dedicated to creating a generation of enthusiastic believers. I personally hope that she succeeds, and expect exam scores to reflect how knowledgable she is," he warned, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I want to see exactly how well you all have listened in her lessons throughout the year. I also know that all of you will treat her with the utmost respect, as nothing less will be tolerated. We must all show her hospitable and eager the students and faculty of Hogwarts can be. Otherwise," he added with a glance in her direction, "she might leave us before you've been granted the opportunity to excel under her tutelage."

Keiran smiled at the students, showing that he was speaking partly in jest. "I think I have offered sufficient hype and pressure for you lot, so let's give her a bit of applause to welcome her, yeah?"

He led the way, bringing his hands together until they followed and it started to die out naturally. "On a related not," Keiran added, "thank you for a productive first couple of weeks. Let's eat!"