Return to Hogwarts

A/N: I've been working on a few of the upcoming chapters to (hopefully) reduce the lags between chapters. If any readers have an extra house-elf they're not using, please send it my way. Same goes for liquid Muse or a Time-turner. Anyway, if you like what you've read, let me know.

Disclaimer: I'm not Rowling and I'm making any money on this fic. Got it? Good.

Chapter 5: Return to Hogwarts

Later that evening, Severus sat at his desk, culling a pile of lecture notes that he had been using for the younger students. Dumbledore had asked him to pass the first through fourth year syllabi and any pertinent notes on to Professor Hawkins, enabling her to concentrate her efforts in Defense Against the Dark Arts. The request had been made in such a way that part of Severus wanted to thrust the Potions information into the fire and state that Callista Hawkins could bloody well read up on her own subjects, and if she wasn't capable of doing that, then her little assistant, Potter, could pitch in.

"Potter!" he hissed venomously, throwing another sheet of parchment into the jumble of papers in a box next to the desk. The idea of that arrogant whelp instructing a class irritated him to no end. The only bright spots in the situation were that Potter wasn't going to be brought to school early and would not be considered part of the faculty, and Severus wouldn't be required to show him even the slightest measure of professional courtesy. If only he didn't have to even look at the boy this year, Potter's position would be almost tolerable. He could picture young Potter strutting about the classroom, praising his fellow Gryffindors whether they deserved it or not, giving nods of approval to the Ravenclaws, assisting the Hufflepuffs, and ignoring or humiliating the Slytherins. Oh, yes, that was exactly something Potter would do--all with Dumbledore's twinkling approval and Callista Hawkins' nodding acceptance, no doubt.

"Puffed-up, snot-nosed little bugger," he snarled to himself, tossing more parchment haphazardly into a box.

On the other hand, he probably should have been grateful that Longbottom had only just managed a passing mark on his Potions O.W.L. Had it been a question of choosing between Longbottom's incompetence and Potter's arrogance, perhaps it would have been better to suffer another year with Longbottom. It was at least possible to intimidate him, and there was always the eventuality of an error causing a potion-induced fatality.

"She's not getting all of my notes," Severus muttered with a grim sense of satisfaction as he finished sorting through the stacks of parchment. The journal that stored the results of the years spent tinkering with potions, finding ways to brew them more efficiently or without unpleasant side-effects, was locked away. When it was completed to his satisfaction, he would publish it and leave his post at Hogwarts. That had been the plan up until the day his Dark Mark indicated the return of his former master.

Looking down at the jumbled mess, the Potions master's sense of order prompted him to lean over and put the notes into some type of logical arrangement. Resisting the urge, he sat back. After all, he had his own classes to prepare for, and Miss Hawkins could manage to organize them herself. A house-elf was summoned to take the box up to the new Defense/Potions mistress's office. Duty fulfilled, Severus turned his attention to the Defense Against the Dark Arts course outline.

A few floors above, Callista sent the remains of her personal items rocketing to the bathroom. Content to deal with them later, she turned her attention to the clothing in the cavernous depths of the trunk. For the last hour, she had been arranging the rooms that were to be hers until the end of June. The house-elves had done an exceptional job of removing every trace of the prior occupant--not a kitten plate or lace doily was in sight and the stone walls were no longer tinted pink. She had vague childhood memories of Dolores Umbridge, which made the idea of sleeping in the woman's former bedchamber not exactly comforting.

With a sigh, Callista removed the hastily wrapped miniature portrait frame from one of the boxes and, after searching about the room for a suitable place for it, set the frame on top of the spindly-legged table next to the chintz chair, facing the window. She turned the miniature so her father would have a somewhat decent view of grounds if he popped in while she was teaching a class.

A knock sounded at the door of the adjoining study, and Callista tossed aside the everyday robe she was unfolding and hurried to answer it. She opened the door and smiled at Professor McGonagall, saying, "Please, come in, and don't mind the chaos."

McGonagall surveyed the piles of books that were stacked on the desk and a jumble of furniture clustered by the window. "I could send up a house-elf to assist you if you like."

"Oh, thank you, but that won't be necessary," Callista said. "Other than the books, there isn't much to unpack, and I'm almost settled in my private quarters. I'll properly organize my office after the evening meal."

"Very well," the older witch answered. "I just wanted to remind you that there will be a staff meeting the day after tomorrow. At that time you'll receive your timetable and class lists."

Callista nodded as she sent several thick volumes gliding to the shelves. "I must confess that I'm a bit nervous," she said, glancing at her former head of house. "You see, I've never taught children before. Any sound bits of advice you can offer me?"

The older woman cocked her head to one side. "Don't smile until Christmas and no laughing until after Easter."

That was not exactly the type of advice Callista had been hoping for. "Anything else?"

"Good discipline is the key, Callista," McGonagall said sagely, as she gave Callista a pointed stare, giving the younger woman the impression that such a notion should be obvious. "Let the class know from day one that you will not tolerate any shenanigans, and don't feel you can't make an example out of a student who misbehaves--regardless of House. Keep them busy and engaged. Focus on the basics--especially in Potions. Just think back to the effective teachers you remember from your own school days. Even more so, remember the ones who were not as effective and avoid their mistakes. Above all, remember that you are neither their friend nor their enemy, but their instructor and maintain a certain amount of distance between yourself and your students."

The latter part of the speech and the piercing look from the older woman made Callista decidedly uncomfortable. The first thought was of a very young, very uncertain Professor Severus Snape and the very inappropriate romance that had developed between the two of them. It made her wonder if McGonagall had been told about them and their relationship. In all fairness to Severus, at the time he had been barely older than any of his students. Callista, on the other hand, had been away from the school and the British wizarding world for more than fifteen years. The odds of finding herself in the same position were slim to none. In most cases, she thought, suddenly feeling older than she wanted to, I'm old enough to be their mother.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of a house-elf, who was partially hidden behind a large, cardboard carton.

"Pardon old Diddy, Professors, but Diddy is bringing a box of papers for Professor Hawkins from Professor Snape." The creature set the box on the floor at Callista's feet and Disapparated.

The two women peered at the jumble of parchment. Callista could almost see Severus's sneering face in the mess and felt it as a very deliberate, very spiteful act. If she had been uncertain of his feelings towards her, she was now positive that they consisted entirely of resentment and dislike. At that moment she felt the urge to storm into his office and have it out with him. There was no reason to tolerate such behavior from him, and Callista wanted to make it apparent that she would not be treated like-- And that's probably exactly what he wants and expects from me, Callista thought, reigning in her indignation. Likely he wants me to lose my temper with him so he can further belittle me. I'll be damned if I'll give that arrogant prat the satisfaction.

"I always pictured Severus to be a bit more... organized than this," she said, wrinkling her nose. "Obviously I was wrong."

"That was unnecessarily rude of him," McGonagall said, her lips drawn into a furious, thin line.

"Perhaps he was in a hurry to get it to me," Callista replied, shrugging her shoulders and pretending not to be annoyed.

The older woman shook her head. "Even so, there was no need to toss everything in a box."

"He didn't even need to send me everything; a syllabus for each class would have sufficed." Callista drew her wand and pointed it at the box. "Accio Syllabi!" Four lengths of parchment sifted from the depths of the container, and Callista studied each of them briefly. "There. If I need anything else, I can always dig through to find it. No harm done."

"Callista, I really think--"

"Professor, it's not worth the trouble. I'm just going to ignore it." She sincerely hoped such a simple tactic would work, because arguing with him sounded almost as appealing as grooming a Hippogriff with mange. "I'm only going to be here for this school year and I really don't want any unnecessary difficulties."

"You really have no intention of staying, do you?"

"Sorry, but no, I don't." Callista slipped the sheets of parchment into an empty desk drawer for safe-keeping; she would deal with lesson-planning tomorrow evening. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten since the late lunch with her mother at the Leaky Cauldron. "I really don't feel up to communal dining just yet. Would it be acceptable for me to have a quiet meal here?

"Most of the resident staff members take their meals in their rooms unless the students are in the castle. A tray could be brought up if you like," McGonagall offered. "Would you like some company?"

"Thank you. That would be very kind of you," replied Callista, making sure her tone reflected the warmth and appreciation she was feeling towards her former head of house.

It didn't take long for the two women to put the office in order. The heavy desk was situated near the hearth to be warm during the winter months, a pair of straight-back chairs were tucked in a corner for when she needed to conference with students, and a collection of potion books and her father's volumes on the Dark Arts were sorted onto the selves. The only thing the office lacked was a sense of the occupant, for there were no personal items at all. The absence of photographs and framed certificates, which had been common in her university office, emphasized the coldness of the stone walls, making the space desolate, even with the fire in the hearth. If she was going to be here until June, she should at least make some effort to provide herself with a welcoming work environment. Callista decided a few potted plants--ones that didn't mind the constant chill that pervaded the castle--would take away some of the empty feeling.

A tray laden with a sampling of common main courses arrived. Trying not to think about the indigestion that was sure to follow, Callista enjoyed the familiar favorites as she and McGonagall discussed the changes in the Ministry.

"Are you acquainted with Rufus Scrimgeour, Callista?"

The younger woman shrugged. "Not well. He was a friend of my father, and I've met him a few times, but that was when I was much younger." She wrinkled her nose, remembering the former Minister and the reasons for his dismissal. "Certainly he would be an improvement over Cornelius Fudge?"

"He'll at least be willing to listen to Albus," the older witch replied with a curt nod. "As to how well he protects the Ministry and the wizarding community, that remains to be seen."

"Tell me about Harry, please. I haven't seen him since he was little more than a baby."

"You'll have no trouble recognizing him; he's the spitting image of his father," said McGonagall. "As a student, he's reasonably talented, but he would do better to apply himself to his studies instead of looking for trouble. Defense Against the Dark Arts and, by extension, Charms seem to be his best subjects. Going by Severus's complaints, he hasn't even remotely inherited Lily's potion-making abilities, just his father's arrogance and every other awful trait James ever possessed."

Callista was a bit surprised. Most of it had gone against what she had heard in her conversations with various members of the Order, and she said so.

"Harry has potential, very real potential at that, to be a great many things, Callista." McGonagall refilled their goblets. "However, the opinions of others tend to become exaggerated."

"Meaning?"

"Those who love Harry tend to perceive him as better or more powerful than he is, and those who don't, focus on the worst."

Callista smiled slightly and decided to take a wait-and-see approach. However, her curiosity got the better of her and she felt compelled to ask, "And how do you feel about Harry... personally, I mean?"

McGonagall's sharp eyes softened a bit. "I like him. He's much like any other teenager, temperamental at times, but overall, he has a good heart. You'll like working with him, I think."

"I have my doubts about the situation, but since I didn't have a better idea, I figured it was best just to go with it." An abrupt yawn caused Callista to press her hand to her mouth and mumble a hasty apology.

"I didn't think it was overly late," McGonagall said, glancing out the window. "You're not feeling ill, are you?"

"It's the switching of the time zones, not the time and certainly not the company," replied Callista. "For some reason, I'm having trouble making the adjustment. Hopefully a long hot bath and a decent night's sleep might help."

McGonagall took the hint and rose to her feet. "I feel I should warn you before I go. Hagrid plans to invite you to go with him on his after-breakfast rounds. He has it in his head that a tour of the Forbidden Forest is just what you need to feel at home again."

"Oh... well... that's very... um, kind of him. Thanks for letting me know." She had an uneasy feeling about a foray into the very woods that she had been told to avoid as a student, but she knew that the gamekeeper would take it personally if she declined his offer. "I'll see you at breakfast then, Professor."

A little over two hours later, cozily warm but thoroughly exhausted Callista climbed into the bed and settled down to sleep. As she drifted off, she briefly thought she heard her father singing the song about Babbity Rabbity.

A/N: Here's hoping there are still readers reading out there.