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DamhsaÃ Naofa is DiamhaslaÃ	By : MrsSaruman Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 808 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Since you are in your sixth year
here at Hogwarts you hardly need a run-through of my expectations. This year we will be covering a variety of
rather complicated potions, which will be continued in your seventh year. Now, I stress that the only reason you are
here is because you have managed to do well on your O.W.L.s, so I expect the
same dedication to this class as the class of last year. Any shirking will result in removal.” Snape paused, surveying his captive
audience. His eyes lingered on Harry
Potter for a moment, trying not to sneer.
Much to his chagrin the boy had made a fair score on his Potion OWL, and
was thus accepted into sixth year potions.
Weasley had made it as well, and there was no surprise that Granger had
received top marks on everything.
Another attempt to hide a sneer.
No Longbottom; that was no surprise.
The boy was lucky to cut his roots right.

He took a
deep breath before continuing. “Now,
this week will be devoted to the Polyjuice Potion. It’s a difficult combination, and I doubt that any of you shall succeed the first time, unless
you’ve brewed it before.” He cast a sly
look in Hermione’s direction. “After
the initial brewing it takes one month to mature. After that month long period we will begin the testing.” A pause.
“But first things first. I see
you all have your cauldrons, and I trust they’ve been scoured thoroughly. Ah, Goyle, I can see just by your
face you must have forgotten that important detail. There’s a sink in the back.”
He watched the chunky student scramble to the back of the room in order
to wash out his cauldron. A few other
students followed him. Snape sighed and
waited for them to return. Children
still, he thought bitterly. As soon
as the last student had returned to their seat, Snape continued.

“I see by
that little mishap that summer has gone to your heads. I will let you know now; I will not be so
lenient as I have been today. In the
future you must handle your own cauldron before lessons and if you don’t, then
you might end up with some, shall we say, dangerous combinations. I would not like to try those out if I were
you. Hmm, where were we? Ah yes.
Polyjuice Potions. I am putting
you in groups of three for your first batch.
Maybe in numbers there will be a chance that you can at least get it
remotely correct. One person from each
respective group is going to come up to my desk to pick up ingredients.” He paused, thinking. “Oh, and another thing. Do try not to be wasteful. I know some of you can’t help it, but try
your best or I might just take the cost of replacement out of your own
pocket. The directions are on the
board.” He tapped it once with his wand
and lines of his spidery writing began to appear.

He sat down
behind his desk as a queue of students formed in front of it. He took his time, carefully measuring out
the exact amounts of the ingredients the potion called for. Any wastefulness and he would know. Normally he wouldn’t care, but these were
expensive and not to mention dangerous substances. He smirked smugly when Ron Weasely ended up in front of him,
looking completely cowed. “Ah, Mr.
Weasely. I know you’ve chosen to work
with Potter and Granger, and let me assure you, if I find out about any
shenanigans I shall have your head.” He
then handed Weasely everything he would need and turned to the next student in
line.

Soon the
piles of ingredients scattering his desk were greatly reduced, and he was able
to sit back and watch the students’ progress.
He could spare a few moments before walking around to help or
criticize. His eyes scanned the people
working diligently. It was nice to see
they had taken his threats to heart.
There was no doubt in his mind that they knew he meant it. Fewer students meant fewer accidents. Fortunately there were no papers to grade
yet. He could just sit back and
observe. Malfoy was joking with his
cronies Crabbe and Goyle, and Potter was in the midst of a hurried conversation
with both Ron and Hermione.

“Please,
Mr. Potter. Share with us, what is so
interesting?” Snape hoped to get Potter
in a trap, to embarrass him, but he was surprised by his answer.

“We were
only wondering what the new Defense teacher would be like. We have that next.”

Snape raised
an eyebrow. “I’m sure there’s little
she can do about your impudence, Potter.
You forgot the ‘Professor.’”

“I’m sorry,
sir.”

“Good. Now, cut the chitchat and get to work. You too Malfoy.”

Fifteen
minutes passed before Snape stood and began to wind his way around the
classroom. He observed every group,
scrutinizing their technique and attentiveness. “Miss Patil, is your bicorn horn supposed to be chunky? Are you trying to make soup, perhaps? Because if you’re attempting to make a
potion, you had me fooled.” He lingered
a moment at her cauldron, and then moved on, passing out praise or
criticism. He paused in front of Ron
Weasely, Harry Potter, and Hermione Granger.
He stood over them like a carrion vulture, watching every movement they
made. Surprisingly he could find no
mistakes. “Tell me, Miss Granger, when
did you last make a Polyjuice Potion?”

Hermione
didn’t miss a beat. “What are you
talking about, sir?”

Snape
sneered. “Amazingly, I can find nothing
wrong with your potion. So I was just
wondering when the last time you made it was.
I figured you had to have made it sometime for it to be so, well,
perfect.”

Granger’s
eyes shifted away from his. “Beginner’s
luck, perhaps?”

Although he
knew she was lying, he had no proof.
“Perhaps.” He pursed his lips
and moved on, ready to bother someone else.
To tell the truth he felt cheated; he was looking forward to torturing
Potter and Company on their first day back.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Malfoy’s raised hand, and spent the
next fifteen minutes combining thinly veiled criticism with example as he
helped the boy shred his boomslang skin.
He couldn’t help but wonder how Draco had ever passed his Potion
OWL. Given, the boy had barely squeaked
by, and if Snape had his way Malfoy wouldn’t be sitting in the classroom at
all. But, his father was a powerful
personage and had insisted that his son continue training in potions. So, despite his abysmal OWL scores, Draco
had once again installed himself between Crabbe and Goyle, joking and laughing
at other’s expense. Lucius had been the
same way; smug, self-assured, and arrogant.

Snape
sighed as he registered what time it was.
“Ten inches on the properties of boomslang skin. Put your ingredients and cauldrons in the
back; we shall continue tomorrow.” The
bell rang and he turned his back on the class, flicking his wand at the board
to erase the words he had previously put up there. He slumped behind his desk, steeling himself for the first year
Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws that were to come.

*

She stood
in front of the class, staring at the expectant faces. Each and every pair of eyes was fixed on
hers, and she returned them glare for glare.
It was necessary to make a powerful first impression; not cruel, but
strong. She clasped her hands behind
her back, took a deep breath and began.
“Now, I have heard your Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons have been,
for the most part, few and far between.
I know your previous professor Remus Lupin was of some help, as was
Professor Moody.” She paused with a
smirk playing on her face. “Or what we
thought was Professor Moody.” A few
sniggers greeted her comment and her smirk broadened into a grin. “I also know you had a certain Delores
Umbridge last year, am I correct?” She
could tell by the grimaces on the faces in front of her that she was. “Well, you will find I am no Professor
Umbridge. My methods are odd, my
teaching style loose. Maybe it’s
because I’ve never taught before. Maybe
it’s because I understand what it was like to be where you are now: expectant,
eager, and even if you don’t admit it, easily hurt.” The class breathed an audible sigh of relief. She spun on her heel and began pacing. “However,” she continued, “I will not be
taken advantage of. If that turns out
to be so, you will I find I can be a formidable enemy, and one you do not
want.” She stopped in front of her desk
and picked up her wand from where it laid on the edge. “To start: my name.” She tapped the board and a slanted cursive
name appeared on it. It read a simple
‘Aislinn O’Flannery.’ She repeated the
name to the class, pronouncing it like ‘Ashling.’ “I’ve worked as an Auror for four years, and before that I worked
for the British Museum.

“But that’s
a Muggle job!”

Aislinn
smiled at the furiously blushing face of Neville Longbottom. “Yes, that it is. But I also lived as a Muggle for about ten years.”

Sounds of
disbelief met her ears and she grinned.
“You heard me right. I lived as
a Muggle by choice, in London.” She
could tell the class was confused, and she sighed. “Maybe I should start this by telling you a bit about
myself. I attended Hogwarts just like
you, and graduated with high marks.
However, three years spent on my own in the wizarding world wore me out,
so I moved to an apartment, bought a car, and went to college in London. I got a Muggle degree in anthropology and
started working for the British Museum until four years ago, when I met an old
friend and started working as an Auror.
Up until two years ago I lived a Muggle life with a magical job. It is only recently I’ve moved back into
this life. Any questions?” She stood facing the crowd, her hands on her
hips.

“How old
are you, ma’am?” asked Malfoy, smirking.

Aislinn
turned to him with a smirk. “You must
be Lucius’ boy Draco. I’ve heard much
about you. And as for the answer to
your question, sir, it’s none of your business.” She grinned at his shocked face.
“I think I should start taking roll.”
She strode to her desk and picked up a sheet of parchment. “Thomas Addicks? Ah, good. Elizabeth
Bettancourt? Nice to see you.”

It
continued until she reached Seamus Finnegan.
“Ah, Finnegan. A good Irish
name. Dia dhuit.”

Seamus
smiled and replied, “Dia is Muire dhuit.”

“You’re
from the Killarney Finnegans, I would wager.”

Seamus
nodded, and then asked, “Are you from the Dublin O’Flannerys, ma’am?”

“No,
they’re cousins. My family lived
outside of Cork.”

Seamus’
face darkened visibly as he muttered a simple “oh.” If Professor O’Flannery noticed this, she did not pay it any mind
as she continued on. Soon roll was
complete and O’Flannery retreated to her desk.
“I think we should start with a course description of this year. If you, at any time want to say something,
please do not be afraid to ask it. I’ll
answer all questions, except those concerning my age or my sex life.” An audible chuckle came from the
students. “I do not mind if you call me
Aislinn, Professor, or O’Flannery.
However, “Ash” and “Mick” are definitely out of the question.” She grinned broadly at the students
assembled. “This year we will be
starting hexes. I understand from
Dumbledore that you have covered magical creatures and curses. I know you also have a Charms class with
Professor Flitwick, but hexes are something different entirely. Now, can anyone tell me how they’re
different?”

Hermione’s
hand went up like a shot and Aislinn smiled at her indulgently. “This must be the brain of the school, Miss
Granger. I’m looking forward to your
participation. Please, enlighten us.”

Hermione
began ticking through a list of why hexes were different than charms when
O’Flannery cut her off. “Thank you very
much, Miss Granger, but that will do for now.
But those were excellent answers, each and every one of them
correct. Charms are often used to
manipulate objects or energy, whereas hexes are used much like curses: to
manipulate people and often cause harm.
Many can be quite dangerous, but then again so is the situation we are
in. To put it quite bluntly I am
teaching you hexes so you can defend yourself.
The Ministry is having kittens that I am instructing you in this, but I
feel it is necessary, as does Dumbledore.”
She suddenly stopped speaking and took a few deep breaths.

“This class
is called ‘Defense Against the Dark Arts,’ and that is what I am here to help
you do: defend yourself and others. So,
let’s begin.”

The next
hour was spent productively as Professor O’Flannery drilled the students in the
types of hexes and when they were to be used.
She gave out points like mad and took very few away. It was obvious she knew her stuff, but was
patient when someone else didn’t.
Seamus’ dour face was the only thing that appeared to be amiss in the class.

“Cheer up,
Seamus,” Ron said to him as they were exiting the class.

Seamus
waited until he passed out of Professor O’Flannery’s sight before he said
anything. “Ron, I don’t think you
understand that she’s not who she says she is.
I’ve heard of her family, and it’s not a pretty story.” He hurried past Ron and down the corridor
leading to Charms.

“I wonder
what that was all about,” said Hermione.
“Of course she’s who she says she is!
If she wasn’t Dumbledore wouldn’t have hired her!”

Harry
nodded, but couldn’t shake his sudden suspicion. What exactly did Seamus mean? Surely she wasn’t a Death Eater!
Dumbledore wouldn’t have allowed a Death Eater to be present on
Hogwart’s campus. There was no way she
could deceive the headmaster…was there?
Harry decided not to say anything to his friends until something more
substantial in the way of evidence revealed itself. He threw one last look over his shoulder before hurrying off
after Seamus.

*

Snape was
watching her eat. She said nothing,
although other teachers conversed among themselves about the day’s events. He didn’t miss a detail. He noted in particular how she delicately
cut her meat and slowly transferred each bite into her thin mouth. She was raised in an aristocratic family
that was for sure. Her table manners
were impeccable. He had been trained in
much the same way, although it didn’t show at times. Severus snorted. She
looked up at him, matching him glare for glare. She forced her lips into a tight smile. “A bit jittery today, weren’t they?” she asked.

Snape
snorted again. “They’re like that all
year. The sooner you understand that,
Miss O’Flannery, the better off you’ll be.”

She glared,
blinked, and once more transferred her gaze down to her plate. Snape had figured she would have said
something bitter in return, but it seemed she didn’t want to fight. Where was the angry emotion he had seen last
night?

He rubbed
his temples as Dumbledore began to speak.
It was something about the first day of the year being pleasant and
successful and other such mindless prattle.
He respected Dumbledore greatly, but at that moment Severus just wished
he would shut up. All he wanted was a
stiff nightcap and dreamless sleep. He
chanced a quick look over at his mysterious neighbor. Her eyes were still downcast, and her lips were tensed as if she
was thinking of something painful. He
was not surprised to see that she was rubbing her tattoo. She definitely was a nervous little
bugger. I wonder what she’s hiding,
he thought.

As soon as
Dumbledore finished his speech, Snape was off to his room. The last thing he wanted was to be cornered
into doing hallway patrols tonight. The
classes and bumbling students had thoroughly worn him out. It was only when he heard the loud report of
heels on stone that he stopped.

He knew who
it was before he turned. “It’s not kind
to follow people, Miss O’Flannery,” he growled.

The
footsteps stopped. “You left so quickly
I could not stop you at dinner.” It was
her voice; the clipped and contrived accent merely there to disguise another,
less appealing brogue.

Severus
sneered although he knew she could not see his face. “I did not want to be stopped, Miss, not by the likes of you.”

Silence.

He turned
around slowly to see her standing about five feet away from him and very
still. “What are the likes of me,
Snape?” she asked. There was something
feral to her voice, something dark.

Severus
thought for a moment before speaking.
“People like you, O’Flannery, are uncouth, contrived, and wholly unfit
to be here. You should learn basic
manners before you start teaching students.”

Rage flared
in her eyes, but she chased it back down, visibly fighting to control her
anger. “And people like you, Snape, are
narcissistic fools with the false belief that they are better than anyone
around them, and therefore not bound by the basic laws of formality. I merely want to be your friend. If not that, at least see me as an
equal. I beg you treat me as such.”

Snape
chuckled sardonically. “My dear woman,
if you think that such eloquence will win my affection, you are sorely
mistaken. Not everyone here wants to be
your friend. Some of us want nothing to
do with you.” He gave her a sickly
sweet smile and turned away, billowing down the corridor to his rooms.

*

Aislinn O’Flannery retreated to her own chamber quickly,
hurrying down narrow hallways trying not to burst into tears. How could he! He did not even know her yet dared to make
assumptions. If only he knew the truth
of what she had seen… She stopped
short.

A giggling
spirit floated about five feet in front of her, blowing raspberries at
her. Aislinn rolled her eyes at the
mischievous ghost. “Peeves,” she sighed
irritably as she tried to go around him.
It seemed Peeves had other ideas.
He giggled as blocked her path.

“Silly
little mick, you can’t go that way!”

Aislinn glared
at him and turned around, only to find Peeves lounging in front of her. “Can’t go this way either.”

Aislinn
stamped her foot in anxiety. “Well I
have to go somewhere, you annoying little fool!”

Peeves
merely laughed. “Dance a jig for me,
little leprechaun. Little leprechaun
girl!” He laughed at her again, stuck
his tongue out and disappeared.

O’Flannery
wanted to scream. Would nothing go
right for her that night? The students
had been incredible, but that horrid Snape and belligerent ghost had ruined it
for her. She half considered calling it
quits and heading back to an apartment, but what good would that do? She would not go back to her Auror job. She was too under appreciated, and no one
really wanted to be affiliated with her.
Not with her background, anyway.

It was that
moment she turned around to keep walking when she stumbled over Hermione
Granger. “Sonuvabitch!” she muttered as
her left elbow hit the floor. Hermione
had hit her knees on the stone floor, and was wincing as she rubbed a
scrape. “Are ye all right?” asked
Aislinn.

Hermione
nodded and accepted the proffered hand.
“I am, thank you. Sorry I ran
into you.”

Aislinn
smiled. “’S no problem, dear.” She suddenly grimaced as she noticed
Hermione’s smiling face. It was obvious
she wasn’t trying to hide her accent.
She blushed.

Hermione
must have realized what was going through her teacher’s mind. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I like it better when you don’t hide
it. It gives you personality.”

Aislinn
grinned. “Thank ‘ee. I’ve just never really, y’ know, been happy
with it since I’ve lived in London.
Some o’ the English aren’t too keen on the Irish.”

“I don’t
mind them at all.”

“Well bless
ye child. But ye should head on t’
bed. See ye tomorrow.” Aislinn waited until Hermione’s back
disappeared down the hallway before she continued on her way. At least there was someone here who
appreciated what she was doing.

*

Hermione
walked jauntily into the Griffyndor common room.

“What’s the
pep in your step for?” asked Ron with a raised eyebrow.

Hermione
smiled a patronizing smile and began humming.

“Come on,
out with your secret,” muttered an exasperated Ron, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, I just
found out something about our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor,” she
said, grinning happily. “She was the
one at the club.”

“I knew
it,” shouted a triumphant Ron and he did a little dance in his chair. “I told you she was the one!” He paused and stared at Hermione for a
moment in confusion. “But how did you
know?”

Hermione
shrugged. “I ran into her in the hall,
and she conveniently forgot to disguise her accent. When she speaks regularly she sounds just like the woman on
stage, although a bit less drunk. If
you get close enough to see her face she has the same features. It’s her.”

Harry made
a little noise of indifference. “So she
plays at a club. Big deal.”

Hermione
glared. “Just thought you’d want to
know since you had some silly bet going.”

Ron slapped
his forehead. “That’s right! Harry you owe me five Sickles.” Harry sighed and pulled out his money
purse. Ron’s smile of delight could
light up the room. “This means we can
go see her play. That is, if she still has her band together.”

Hermione
shook her head. “Nope, Ron. I don’t want to get us in trouble by leaving
school grounds. I should have never
told you!” She sighed and jounced up
the stairs to the girl’s dormitory.

“What got
into her, I wonder?” said Ron.

“Dunno,”
answered Harry. “Probably just miffed
because she didn’t win the bet.” He
pushed five silver Sickles over to Ron with resignation. “You won fair and square, mate.”
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DamhsaÃ­ Naofa is DiamhaslaÃ­

DamhsaÃ Naofa is DiamhaslaÃ