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All About Luna
A small red and green hurricane was ransacking Willow's rooms, in a desperate
attempt to find her lesson plans. She was positive she had put them in her
desk drawer. Definitely either there or on her sofa. Or maybe in her bag.
The fact that she was tripping over her new 'Emerald Green' robes wasn't
helping. Sonique was both talented and quick, and Willow's robes had arrived
early that morning. There had been no question about which she was going
to wear first. She'd spent five minutes twirling in front of the mirror,
watching the way the robes span out and the shade of green changed ever
so slightly as the material rippled.
Her kitten was watching her curiously from its hiding place under her bed.
The house elves had taken it to her room when she got home from her shopping
trip the day before, and when she'd finally finished classes for the day,
and gratefully returned to her room it had been tucking into a plate of
fish that she supposed the elves had put down for it. She was feeling a
little guilty for leaving it alone all afternoon, and she still hadn't thought
of a name for it. The next day was Saturday, and she promised it that she'd
spend the day with it then, but for today Willow was too busy panicking
about her missing lesson plans.
"Ow!" she stumbled into the doorway to the bedroom.
Finally finding the plans in the bathroom, where she had left them the previous
night after reading over them while brushing her teeth, Willow grabbed her
bag and ran for the Great Hall, praying she wasn't going to be late for
breakfast. She slid in quietly and sat down, nibbling at her toast, while
trying to spot the year fives that would be in her first class of that day.
Thankfully it was a Gryffindor / Ravenclaw class; she didn't know what she
would do if she had to face the brats from her house first thing in the
morning. Living near them was quite enough.
The butterflies in her stomach were apparently on helium as they were refusing
to settle down, and she found she couldn't even look at the crispy bacon
that was obnoxiously trying to cover her whole plate.
Willow could feel her palms slowly getting clammy, and tried to rub them
discreetly against her robes. She started fiddling with her fork, scratching
absently mindedly at a small chip in the handle that felt rough under her
nail. Looking around the hall at the students, and trying to place names
to faces, made Willow feel lonely. She was sat on the teachers' table, of
course, and while all of the students could blend into one another as they
crowded onto their tables, Willow was on show at the front, for all eyes
to stare at.
When breakfast was over she had to summon all her will power just to walk
through the corridors to the small room that had been set up as her classroom.
She could hear the children inside already, talking loudly amongst themselves,
and she paused and took a deep breath before opening the door. Silence immediately
fell as the students turned to look at her.
*Hoo-boy! This is it!*
The two classes she'd taken yesterday afternoon had been first and second
years, a combination of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws both times. Those children
were still too young to think about giving their new teacher problems, and
of course those two school houses were the least troublesome of the four.
Griffindor and Ravenclaw were better than Slytherin, but the fifth year
students would probably have more questions for her than the younger children
had the day before.
She walked slowly towards the front of the classroom, in an attempt to give
herself time to gather her nerves, while giving the students the impression
that she was cool, calm and collected. Her desk was fairly large and set
on the left side of the classroom, to allow the students a clear view of
the chalkboard to the right. Behind her desk was a doorway leading to a
small cupboard, although she had yet to find anything to put in it. You
couldn't exactly keep a vampire in a closet. As she reached her desk and
stood behind her chair to survey the classroom she could pick out a few
whispers, and decided that maybe the five minutes she'd allowed in her plan
for introductions wasn't going to be enough. Not by a long shot if she was
reading the curious glances correctly.
"Hi," she said in her most confident voice, "I'm Professor Rosenberg, and
I'll be taking you for Defence Against the Dark Arts this year."
A few murmurs rippled around the classroom and Willow sighed inwardly.
"I know you've had really awful teachers in this subject. How about we just
start with introductions? I'll take the register, and when you answer your
name, tell me something about your experiences with this class before."
More murmurs, although Willow thought they might have been more positive
ones this time. Then again, wishful thinking can do a lot for one's interpretation
skills.
"Layla Adams"
"Here. Um," the small brunette looked slightly awkward, "what did you want
to know?"
"Just tell me about one of your teachers. Tell me about your last one, Professor
Umbridge, I think it was?" Willow quickly tacked the question on the end
of her statement. Wouldn't do any harm to let the students think that she
hadn't been thoroughly briefed on the subject of Umbridge's dictatorship.
"She was from the Ministry of Magic," Layla said slowly. She clutched at
her DADA book defensively. "We did a lot of theory with her."
A snort came from the back of the room, and a low voice muttered, "We only
did theory with her!"
Willow glanced in the direction of the voice, and recognised Ginny Weasley
as its owner. She now firmly believed the story about Ginny Weasley having
been shy and quiet when she started in Hogwarts to have been a sadistic
joke. There was no way that the little minx trying to look innocent at the
back of the room was anything like the wall flower that had been described
to her by Dumbledore. Willow made a mental note to inform Dumbledore that
saying someone has come out of their shell, did not suitably cover the fact
that the someone in question was quite loudly opinionated.
"Okay, you tell me about her then Ginny!"
*Let's see if that Gryffindor courage will at least let one pupil give
an honest description of their last teacher.* Willow thought to herself.
Ginny flushed slightly at the attention being directed onto her, but countered
well and replied snidely, "No-one really liked Professor Umbridge. Apart
from the Slytherins I mean. They did quite well by her."
Half the class was now screwed round in their seats, shooting scandalised
looks at Ginny for mentioning their new professor's house. The other half,
naturally, were scrutinising Willow to see how she would respond. In the
following silence you could almost have heard the house elves tidying up
in the kitchen.
Willow's face was impassive for a few seconds as she thought about how to
answer that little statement, and then a grin stole across her face.
"Yeah, that sounds rather Slytherin, self-centered buggers." *Well,
at least my crash course in Brit-slang is paying off.*
Ginny was grinning as well, partly as a sign that as far as she was concerned,
Willow had passed the test, and partly because the older red-head had said
the word "bugger" with a Cockney accent. She was also clamping a hand over
Luna Lovegood's mouth as the blonde Ravenclaw had started explaining the
origins of the word 'bugger'.
Ginny relaxed and continued, "Well, Professor Umbridge didn't trust Dumbledore,
she thought he was just causing trouble for Fudge. That's why we only did
theory, they reckoned if us little kids could actually do the spells we
might use them against him."
"Really?" Willow said incredulously, "That's just so… so…" she shrugged
and gave up searching for a polite answer, "so stupid!"
This time most of the class were smiling at her and voicing their agreement.
Umbridge certainly hadn't had any fans in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. Even
the ones that weren't smiling were nodding to themselves.
"Okay," Willow continued, the register forgotten, "so if you didn't do any
practical with Umbridge, who else took you for this class?"
"Lockhart!"
"Mad-Eye Moody!"
"Professor Lupin." Ginny's clear voice reached over the rest, and Willow
smiled and nodded.
"Yes, Professor Lupin, quite the best teacher you've had, I heard."
"He was a werewolf!" a random Ravenclaw piped up indignantly, then withered
under Ginny's gaze. "He was a good teacher though," he added quickly.
"What's wrong with being a werewolf?" Willow asked, "I was quite good friends
with one."
Silence blanketed the classroom once more, as the children stared at Willow
in shock. DADA lessons looked set to be interesting this year.
"Was that when you lived on the mouth of hell?"
Willow's gaze snapped to Luna, and she looked at the girl curiously. According
to Dumbledore none of the pupils, not even the three Gryffindors in the
sixth year, had been told that she had grown up on the Hellmouth. Luna's
face was blank though, and if she even realised Willow was surprised, she
wasn't showing it.
Willow glanced at the clock on the wall; already ten minutes over the allotted
introduction time, and it looked as though the rest of the lesson probably
wasn't going to be spent talking about Defence Against the Dark Arts. At
least, not in the way Willow had meticulously planned. In different colored
inks.
Lesson plans were for wimps anyway.
During the break that morning Willow wandered over to Professor Dumbledore's
office and knocked tentatively on the door. Luckily the password for the
gargoyle hadn't yet been changed, one mention of gummy bears and it had
let her up the curling staircase.
Now she was waiting for the door to open, wondering if she was just being
silly. Nonetheless, she just couldn't dismiss the nagging thought at the
back of her mind, even though she'd been trying to push it away all morning.
As Dumbledore opened his office door, Willow smiled up at him.
"Not having trouble already, Willow?" he asked gently.
"No," Willow shook her head firmly, "No trouble, I'm actually here to talk
to you about one of my students; Luna Lovegood."
"Ah." He gestured her into the office and closed the solid door behind them.
The voices carried through in low, serious murmurs, and when they both emerged
again, five short minutes later, Willow's expression was solemn.
"I thought you should know, Dumbledore. If I'm right, this isn't going to
be easy for her."
"I have had my suspicions of the same thing, I must admit. Perhaps you could
keep a close eye on Miss Lovegood, while she's in your class?"
"Oh yes, of course!" Willow's enthusiasm was back and bouncing. "Anything
I can do, just let me know." As Dumbledore nodded his agreement, Willow
turned and hurried down the staircase again, determined to get to at least
the majority of her classes today before the students did.
Dumbledore, stood at the top of the stairs, was frowning as he watched the
youngest member of staff disappear. He stroked his long beard with one hand,
and absent-mindedly fumbled for the door handle with the other, still thinking
about what Willow had come to tell him.
He was impressed that she had picked up so quickly on what it had taken
him a good many months to spot, and he nodded approvingly to himself as
he ambled back to his desk. Willow Rosenberg was quickly proving to be a
valuable asset to the school, and he still hoped that she would eventually
lend her talents to the Order of the Phoenix as well.
After school had finished for the day the children were left to settle back
in to their home away from home. Some were practising ready for the impending
Quidditch tryouts, as the teams replaced the players who had graduated at
the end of last year. The less sports-minded ones were messing about in
their common rooms, enjoying catching up with their friends and talking
about their first classes of the new year. Some, like Hermione Granger,
were already knee deep into a pile of books in the library. Ginny and Luna
had managed to sneak into a small empty classroom, and they were currently
sitting on a couple of desks, talking. Luna had her feet on a nearby chair,
and was making it swing back against her table, the sharp clunking noise
of wood meeting wood punctuating her rant.
"I thought he actually liked me, Gin. That slimy," clunk "evil,"
clunk "Slytherin!" crack She looked down at the chair and
frowned, trying to pretend that the crack down the back had been there all
along.
She had been friends with Blaise during her fourth year, when he had chosen
to sit with her in the library as opposed to with his housemates, who were,
as usual, testing how far they could push Madam Pince before she snapped
and ordered them all out of her library.
For once, Blaise had actually felt like doing some work, and had informed
Luna of this fact, adding on the end, "At least you're not a Gryffindor."
She had quickly looked away from him, and stared at the Potions essay in
front of her, which was steadfastly refusing to write itself. Blaise had
been in an amiable enough mood, and had never cared who he was supposed
to talk to, or not talk to. After a few despairing sighs from Luna, he had
leaned over and given her a few pointers, before finishing his work and
leaving. It hadn't been a long encounter, nor particularly warm, but it
had opened the way for them to acknowledge each other when they found themselves
passing in the corridor, and by the end of the year they'd worked their
way up to whole conversations, albeit whispered ones, when they'd found
themselves in the library together.
"I didn't think just seeing him was going to be so scary," Luna said quietly.
"I saw him again after Divination today, and all he needed was one of those
masks and he could have been his father."
"With a mask on he could be anyone though, couldn't he?"
Luna looked at her friend seriously. "It's not just his face; it's his hair,
his voice, his body, even the way he carries himself. How do you think I
knew it was his father that managed to grab Tonks?"
Ginny realised she didn't have an answer for that, and settled for moving
the damaged chair away from Luna's feet, before holding her robes about
her and hopping up to sit on the desk next to her friend.
"Merlin, I'm such an idiot," Luna snorted. "'Loony Lovegood'."
"Don't say that Luna, you know it's not true." Ginny snapped. "It's bad
enough other people saying it. I know you, and it's not true, so don't start
saying it yourself."
"Yeah well," Luna sighed, "I might as well have handed myself to his parents
gift wrapped. I told him everything Gin, I thought he was actually my friend."
Ginny shrugged, more for her own benefit than Luna's, for the other girl
was once more hiding behind her hair. She had believed in Blaise's friendship
with Luna as well. Blaise didn't have many friends in his own house, because
of his laid-back attitude, and it had seemed as though he had found a kindred
spirit in calm little Luna. She could hardly believe what had happened,
and knew that the resulting tragedies were weighing heavily on Luna's mind.
"Maybe it would have been better if they had taken me. Did you see how guilty
he looked on the train?" Fresh tears started to fall from Luna's eyes, and
Ginny hugged her tightly.
"It wouldn't have been better, Luna, and the Order are going to get Tonks
back, it'll be okay." Ginny pushed her red hair back out of her face, and
thought back to Blaise's surprising entrance, and speedy exit from their
train carriage.
*Did he look guilty?* she thought to herself, remembering the look
in his eyes. *That wasn't guilt. That was something entirely different.*
Blaise, at that particular moment in time, was in his bedroom with Draco,
talking about the Death Eaters. Arguing might have been a better word to
describe the conversation between the two Slytherins. Draco had woken up
feeling irritable after a night of tossing and turning. He couldn't let
his mother's words slip from his mind, and he'd been hassling Blaise about
his thoughts on the matter since breakfast, thankful that there was at least
one person he knew he could confide in.
"Look Draco, I'm not saying I believe in their bloody cause, alright? I'm
just saying I don't really fancy getting killed for not believing in it."
Blaise's patience was wearing thin, a testament to how persistent Draco
had been. The blonde Slytherin hadn't taken the hint when Blaise had flopped
down on his bed, one arm over his eyes and a frown on his face.
"And that's your problem!" Draco yelled back, "You don't give a
damn about anything but yourself. You just think…"
"That's not true!" Blaise interrupted, jumping to his feet. "You know that's
not true, you bastard, don't you fucking dare tell me I don't care about
anything." He glared at Draco and stalked out of the room, slamming the
door behind him.
Draco survyed the empty room. "Well that could have gone better."
Ginny and Luna were traipsing reluctantly back to their dormitories when
they ran into Willow. Or more accurately; Willow ran into them. The professor
had been dashing back to her rooms after finishing sorting out her classroom
for the following day's lessons. There was a book packed somewhere with
her belongings that was calling out to her to read, especially after the
surprising turn her year five class had taken.
Luna ended up sprawled on the floor as she had been directly in Willow's
way as the hurrying witch had rounded a corner. She sat up slowly and rubbed
her elbow, which had been introduced to the floor at a high velocity.
"Oh my Goddess! Oh, I'm so sorry! I should have been looking where I was
going. Oh! Luna, please don't cry! I'm sorry." Willow pulled Luna back to
her feet and started to frantically brush the girl down. "Are you okay?
Did you hurt anything?"
"No, I think my behind cushioned my fall," Luna sniffed. "Really, I'm okay.
It's not… I mean, you didn't do anything." She glanced up at Willow from
under hooded eyes, while biting her lip. Their new teacher was definitely
cool, but Luna didn't know if she really wanted to be talking about her
problems to anyone apart from Ginny, and trusting people just happened to
be high on her list of problems.
"Are you sure? Well, what's wrong? Maybe I can help. We could talk in my
rooms, they're pretty private. They're kinda Slytheriny too, but I'm working
on that!" Willow was already herding the girls in front of her, and expertly
manoeuvred them towards her painting. Years of guiding the rather goofy
and absent-minded Xander to class had taught her well.
"Look," Willow turned to face the girls just outside her painting, "you
don't have to trust me, or tell me what's wrong, but I really do want to
help. I'm all new here so you don't have to worry about me working for the
wrong guys; I hadn't even heard of them until a few days ago. But if you
really don't wanna talk about it, that's okay; we could do the girl talk
thing, and drink hot chocolate or something. I've even got the little marshmallows
to go on top!" she promised, smiling at them brightly.
"Marshmallows?" Luna asked curiously. "You've never had marshmallows?" Willow
sounded shocked. "Right, hot chocolate and marshmallows coming right up."
She whispered her password to the painting on her door, and waved the girls
in ahead of her. The door slowly closed behind them, and a dark shadow detached
itself from a patch of slightly darker shadows and drifted away down the
corridor. Professor Snape had been witness to the whole scene outside Willow's
chambers, and was now mulling it over in his mind.
He had been expecting an arrogant, pretentious witch, and yet Willow was
either a very good actress, or she was a genuinely nice person. Someone
who thought they were better than everyone, so much better that they had
the right to end life as we know it, surely shouldn't be talking to the
students about their problems and inviting them to their rooms for a chat
and hot chocolate with, Snape could hardly believe it, marshmallows on top.
*So she isn't what you expected. What does that matter?* he asked
himself, and found to his disgust that it did matter. She wasn't in the
least bit like he'd expected, and it was something that would bother him
until he could get to the bottom of it.
As Snape reached his rooms he swept in and sank down on his couch. Like
Willow's rooms, his were dark green and black, although as opposed to Willow,
he found the colour scheme very fitting to his personality. While he brooded
on the couch his eyes wandered aimlessly around his possessions; a meagre
collection of belongings padded out solely by his extensive book collection.
An antisocial person by nature, the tormenting he'd received at the hands
of the Marauders had cemented his belief that books were infinitely preferable
to people, although there were a few people whose company he would tolerate.
Unfortunately it looked as though he would be tolerating Willow's company
for the rest of the school year, if not longer, and that settled the matter
as far as he was concerned; he and Miss Rosenberg would have to have a little
conversation before long.
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