As Amelia
followed the rest of the staff up to Dumbledore’s office (the password, she
discovered, was ‘peanut brittle’) she found herself walking beside a sour-faced
wizard with long, black hair. His robes were smart and he gave the impression
of dour authority. He was staring with unmasked contempt at Remus, who was
talking animatedly with the tiny wizard just ahead of them. He must have felt
the fiery gaze upon him, for he glanced back at the next corner and raised an
eyebrow at Amelia and her silent companion. The
other man glowered at him and dropped back a few paces.

“He’s friendly,” Amelia
remarked to Pomona, who had
appeared beside her.

“Oh, don’t mind Severus,”
she said. “He’s just a bit of an old sour-pus. He can be quite the gentleman at
times,” she added, waggling her eyebrows in a disturbing manner.

Amelia
gave her a wry grin. “Oh I’m sure he’s a regular Mr
Darcy.”

Pomona
and the smaller, white haired witch beside her giggled far too girlishly for
two grown women. Remus and the tiny wizard looked back in puzzlement and Amelia
felt herself blush, wondering quietly just how much wine her two companions had
had to drink.

0o0o0o0

As the others milled around the
Headmaster’s office Amelia attempted to hang
back, but Pomona seemed intent upon
introducing her to them all. The tiny, white haired gentleman was introduced as
Filius Flitwick,
Charms Master (“Charmed, I’m sure,” hiccupped Pomona),
and leader of the school choir. Amelia had truly
enjoyed their performance at the feast and made sure to tell him so, making the
little man swell with pride.

Next was the giggling,
curly-haired matron who presided over the Hospital Wing, Poppy Pomfrey. Beside
her was the wispiest woman Amelia had seen
outside of a folk festival, draped head to toe in chintzy fabrics and
glittering amulets. The woman’s glasses must have been half an inch thick, and Amelia
wondered vaguely whether the woman could actually see, as she introduced
herself as “Professor Trelawney,
Divinashion,” slurring a little and breathing cooking sherry all over her new
colleague.

The greasy man from the platform
was next, “Argus Filch, Caretaker.” The man attempted what he clearly thought
was a winning smile; the equally greasy cat in his arms hissed at her. Next was
the half-giant of whom Hermione had spoken so highly; “Rubeus
Hagrid, Groundskeeper,” he said pleasantly.

“And Professor of Care of Magical
Creatures, Hagrid, don’t forget that,” squeaked Filius – he seemed quite proud
of his friend.

“Oh, yes!” said Hagrid, beaming.

“I’ve heard a lot about you –
good things – from my cousin, Hermione,” she said, and Hagrid grinned.

“You’re related to Granger?” distaste dripped from every
syllable.

Amelia
turned to face the sallow-faced man in the shadows.

“Yes, I am,” she said, calmly.
“I’m very proud of her.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I can’t
think why.”

“Now, now, Severus,
there’s no call to be rude,” said Remus, stepping forward and raising his own
eyebrow. Despite her anger at Snape’s spite, she had a hard time keeping a
straight face as the war of eyebrows played out in front of her. The tension
could have been sliced up and sold off.

“Remus is quite right,” said Minerva,
sharply. Deftly, she took over the introductions from Pomona,
who had wandered off to refill her goblet. “Severus here teaches
Potions and I believe you’ve already met Remus?” On her nod, Minerva
continued.

“I take Transfiguration, Professor
Vector here is our resident Arithmancy
expert,” she indicated a man whose every attitude appeared sharp. Aptly
named, thought Amelia.

“Professor
Martin Dockrill,
Ancient Runes,” this was a larger man whose bearded face was oddly familiar.

“Any relation to Steve
Dockrill?” she enquired, shaking his hand.

“Why yes, my younger brother is
named Steve,” he answered, puzzled.

“I did my undergraduate
qualification at Bradford with his
team.”

“A fellow archaeologist! I can
see we’ll have much to discuss!” he cried, giving her a warm smile and
immediately reminding her of hazy evenings in a selection Shetland’s finest
watering holes.

“Letitia
Pince, the Librarian,” a pinched woman
nodded kindly at her, “and this is Professor
Binns,” said Minerva
indicating a somewhat transparent gentleman hovering a few inches above his
stool. Having been warned to expect ghosts, Amelia
simply smiled at him before he returned to his conversation with Professor
Sprout.

“You’ll fit in nicely,” smiled Minerva,
encouragingly.

“Thank you,” Amelia
replied, earnestly.

Professor
Dumbledore chose that moment to return from
his duties.

“Well now everyone,” he began,
assuming that easy respect that came naturally to him. “The students are a-bed
– or at least pretending to be,” he twinkled, “and we are about to embark upon
a new year of learning and excitement. I would once more like to welcome
Rubeus, Remus and Amelia to the team.” This was
accompanied by warm smiles from almost everyone (Severus was
still openly glaring at Remus, but Argus was at least trying).

“Which leads me to the first
order of business – Filius?”

Professor
Flitwick briefly disappeared from view and
returned with the Sorting Hat. Amelia’s insides
moved uneasily; she had a feeling that she knew where this was headed.

“Now, you’re all aware of Amelia’s
situation,” here we go, she thought, “and I thought it best that you be
sorted, my dear,” he said turning to his young colleague. “It might help you
feel more at home here.”

Amelia
nodded, desperately trying not to let the blush she could feel beginning reach
her cheeks, suddenly feeling like a naughty thirteen-year-old in the staff
room.

Deftly, Dumbledore picked up the
battered hat and dropped it onto Amelia’s head;
it was, strangely enough, a perfect fit. In an effort not to meet anyone’s gaze
she shut her eyes.

“Hmm…” said a small voice in her
ear. “You’re an interesting one: late entrant, intelligent, creative, brave –
stubborn too.” Amelia had to concede that point,
it was one of her favourite traits. “You would do well in Hufflepuff, you’re
certainly loyal, and excellently in Slytherin – you’ve no lack of cunning, my
dear.” Amelia raised an eyebrow. “Not one for
the green then? Ravenclaw would suit your intellect…” the voice in her head was
silent for a moment, and Amelia could hear her
own heartbeat drumming in her ears; “but perhaps your other talents would serve
another house better. I think red and gold would do, has to be GRYFFINDOR!”

There were a few nods of approval
– and more than a few of disappointment – as the hat was put away. Amelia
smiled at Minerva, who was telling her that she had just
joined her house. She mused quietly that she wouldn’t have minded any of them…
with the possible exception of Slytherin.

“Next, I should like to remind
you all of the security measures put in place this year…”

The meeting continued in a
similar vein for a few minutes, before Dumbledore broke off to speak to individual
staff members, and Amelia was recaptured by Professor
Dockrill.

“Have you heard from Steve
recently? Call me Martin, by the way. How is
that lovely Julie of his?”

After an enjoyable but exhausting
few minutes Minerva intervened and escorted her to her office
and her private rooms. Amelia was very pleased
to discover that she had a bedroom, sitting room, bathroom and – best of all –
balcony to roam around, along with quite a spacious office. The offices were,
Minerva told her, always kept separate, largely to allow the staff to have some
time off when students couldn’t find them; hers was three floors below,
accessible by climbing behind a bookcase in her sitting room and full of empty
bookcases. This was something that Amelia
planned to remedy.

Minerva stood
back and enjoyed the younger witch’s excitement before handing her two rolls of
parchment.

“This is your timetable, and
this,” she indicated the second roll, “is a list of spells that Albus and I
thought might be useful. These first two ought to help you settle in and get
organised; many of the rest are general cleaning spells. Give the top one a
try,” her voice had assumed the tone of ‘teacher’ and Amelia
did as she was told. “Try to visualise the rooms as you’d want them to be, they
should reorganise themselves accordingly once the spell is complete…”

Amelia
shut her eyes and thought hard; she was delighted, upon opening them to
discover an airier and somehow cosier room. Her last few possessions were
whizzing into their places and large cushions had accumulated in the corners.

She realised that Minerva
was giving her a rather penetrating look and she smiled, a little uncertainly.
The older witch appeared to shake herself.

“Excellent… I can see that you’ll
be… just fine. Try out some of the other spells when you get a chance, and if
you get stuck any of the staff will be happy to lend a hand,” her gaze lingered
on Amelia for a moment before she continued. “I’ll bid you a good night…”

Amelia
smiled back at the other witch, saying: “I’ll see you at breakfast!”

It was a while later, when she
had located her pyjamas and settled down to her first night’s sleep at Hogwarts
that she realised she hadn’t actually said
the incantation.

0o0o0o0

Several floors below, Remus
rolled over in his bed, trying vainly to tell himself that the young woman he’d
just met wasn’t nearly as fascinating as he’d found her to be. His treacherous
mind however, wasn’t having any of it. After a few minutes he rubbed his face
in defeat.

Well so what if she was
fascinating? He thought, Or quite pretty? People like you don’t get
fascinating or pretty. His inner critic paused, before continuing… Or
plain, or boring either, come to think of it.

He turned over again in an effort
to get away from himself and stared at the ceiling; there was a spider on it,
staring back.

His life was no place for
companionship, time had proved that, and he could never inflict his burdens
onto another’s shoulders, but…

But perhaps, he thought,
in defiance, perhaps it would be OK to dream…

0o0o0o0

*Note: Steve
Dockrill and Julie
Bond are two awesome Norse specialists at
the university which I trained, no disrespect intended!