Use what you Know

Deep breaths. In… Out… In… Out…

I think I may faint.

If you faint, you will not only lose your job, but you will irrevocably embarrass yourself. Do you want to end up playing for the London Symphony Orchestra for the rest of your life?

That wouldn’t be so bad. I like music. And, even more so, I like not being the only thing to look at in front of an audience.

Well if you honestly want to throw away seven years of magical education to go be your husband’s social climbing pet, then go ahead and faint. Otherwise, you bloody well better breathe.

To look at her, you might never have suspected that Amelia Lyons was on the brink of whipping off her high heeled shoes and bolting from the dungeons. The only things keeping her in the room were the contract she had signed with the headmaster to teach potions for the entirety of the academic year, and her unwillingness to see the smug look on her mother’s face if she failed in the pursuit of the one defiant act she had ever made against her parents’ wishes.

Amelia had spent nearly a month building up to telling her parents about the position she had been offered at Hogwarts. She had been pulled aside at the graduation ceremony, after she had crossed the stage to receive her certificate, and, barely separated from student status, the minister and headmaster had jointly offered her the position of potions professor. Amelia had been dumbfounded by their proposition – surely they knew that speaking in front of a group was not her forte? But, wanting to be polite, Amelia had told them she would think about it.

And then, for the next month, it was all she could think about. She thought about the offer as her parents took her on a celebratory vacation to Greece. She thought about the offer as she met with the conductor of the London Symphony Orchestra and attended an extravagant banquet with the rest of the musicians. And, without fail, she lay in bed each night, thinking about what it would be like to be potions master at Hogwarts.

Eventually, after weighing all the pros and cons – by making lists, of course (OCD much?) – Amelia had come to the realization that, for the first time in her life, she knew what she wanted to do, and it didn’t coincide with what her parents expected of her. Sure, over the years, there had been fleeting moments when she had wanted to run instead of study, or stay in her room rather than attend a ball, or wear jeans rather than a skintight designer dress. But all of these had been minor desires compared to how she felt about the teaching position.

Amelia was intrinsically tied to Hogwarts; it was there that she had earned most of her success, made her parents proudest. But more than anything, Hogwarts reminded Amelia of Raoul. At home, his name was never mentioned, and all the pictures of him had been taken down. Amelia occasionally caught her father in his study with a wrinkled 4x6 photograph of his son, which he kept tucked in the very back of his desk drawer, but only once in a while, and he never shared those moments with Amelia. At Hogwarts, however, though most of the student population no longer remembered Amelia’s older brother, she felt that at least his memory wasn’t being actively hidden. And if he were ever going to return – not that Amelia dared to put much hope into such a long-shot dream – Amelia was certain Hogwarts would be where he would go first.

And so it was with unsteady conviction that Amelia had sat her parents down to tell them the news: she had accepted the position of Potions Professor at Hogwarts and contacted The Orchestra to tell them she would be withdrawing. Her mother had been furious; teaching was a job for lesser individuals, and certainly not for those with Amelia’s family connections. Anyone could teach, Antoinette said, rattling off a few of Hogwarts’ less-than-ideal candidates who had taught briefly in the past. Even knowing her mother would be furious, Amelia was having a difficult time enduring the scrutiny of the woman she had been trying to please all her life, and if it hadn’t been for her father’s calm expression and the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips, Amelia knew she probably would have caved.

“Let’s give her a chance, Antoinette,” Frederick had said calmly, after Antoinette had screeched herself into silence. Her mother hadn’t liked the idea, but her husband so rarely stepped in on these discussions, that she was forced to concede that Amelia could take the position, which consisted mostly of throwing her hands up in the air and sulking out of the room.

So now, Amelia Lyons was standing at the front of the potions classroom, looking out at the tables and stools she had been occupying less than four months ago. She had pulled her long, red hair into a chignon at the back of her head and wore a charcoal grey suit with an ivory shell and simple necklace. It was simple, but flattering, and Amelia hoped that her lack of robes would not get her into trouble. She had been far too nervous to wear the heavy material, which she would have sweat through in a matter of minutes. On the lapel of her suit, she had pinned the Ravenclaw crest, representing the House from which she had graduated, and was now head. She was leaning against the same desk that Headmaster Doyle had always favored, where he spouted his wry comments and belittled his students.

The students Amelia would face were just another on her long list of concerns this morning. Many of them would be able to identify Amelia, if not know her personally. She had never had many friends at Hogwarts, but she did interact sporadically with some of her younger peers, who would now be her students. She didn’t know what kind of reaction she would get from those students who knew her only as “The Ice Queen”, and she had even less of a chance of predicting how those few students who knew her better would react.

Ahem, Amelia’s subconscious interrupted as the tension associated with all these thoughts started to make the redhead feel as though one of her lungs had collapsed.

Oh, right. Breathe.

Damien was early for class. It was a deliberate decision. First day of the new school year, first day to suss out what would be in store for him. Sure, the academics interest him. After all, the boy was determined on making an academic impression, or more than a mere impression, with his Hogwarts life. Really, though, his decision was deliberate, to observe the kinds of interaction he was going to get. As Damien sauntered from the Slytherin dormitories to where he was due for Potions class, his mind was ready with categories for people, ready to sort them in his own way. It was a short walk, and he soon found himself looking at the new Potions Professor. She had to be it. He had his doubts because she looked a little too young, and a little too familiar. But she was an adult, in a classroom, and from the looks of it, she had to be it.

Taking a few moments to stand at the entrance of the Potions Dungeon, Damien had his eyes run from the crown of her head to the soles of her feet. He noticed her youth and her looks, and then the Ravenclaw crest. Satisfied to learn that the new Professor was from another acceptable House, the boy nodded to acknowledge her, before offering a slight smile. Always one for the formalities if the other was not deemed to be like a plague, Damien took a few steps closer towards her direction.

"Good Morning, Professor." The last word fell from him, strangely. He was too accustomed to the old ones. Damien was still trying to recall where he had seen this young Professor from. He had also noticed the emptiness of the Potions Dungeon. And then he realised that he was the first student to arrive. Oddly, that cheered Damien a little, who had intended to use it to his advantage, to observe people when they enter like they were trickling in to a territory that he had already had a stake in.

After nearly an entire holiday filled with nagging, inner turmoil and entirely justified arguing, Samuel had decided to once again pick up the subject of potions, after his parents had finally bullied him into picking the class up once again.

Of course he knew that his reasons for quitting the class in the first place were completely and utterly fair, and this his parents were being unreasonable by telling the owl which delivered his howler the day after they got the letter home to poop on his bed, and bite his fingers.

The Howler itself was bad enough, the look on Doyle's face as it had exploded had been one of near pure joy (The first time anyone had seen him smile) as he'd watched Sam sink lower and lower into his seat.

However now there was a new Potions master, hopefully the new professor wouldn't be as horrible as the Headmaster had been, Sam was not afraid of quitting potions yet again.
Shivering as he walked down the stairs that led to the potions dungeon, Sam couldn't help but appreciate being a Gryffindor. Seriously, having to live in these conditions would be cause for much sorrow for Sam.

Pushing the door open he was pleased to see that he wasn't late, a problem which Doyle had constantly found infuriating, with only one other student having arrived so far.

"Morning... Professor," he said with a quiet snigg*er (It thinks I'm being racist, I swear I'm not.) "Hey there," he added, inclining his head to the other boy in the dungeon. "Glad to be back?" He asked.

((SPAM: You'd better not be racist,))

Potions was perhaps the one class Wally could stand. She was skilled at Potions- not the following directions or anything, but she had a clever mind and could figure out how to make a potion if only given the characteristics. She knew her ingredients. She knew what they did. She knew what combinations made what. She could think things up that quickly.

She walked in and strode to the front of the room, dropping her bag next to a chair, kicking the leg out and slipping into the spot. She dropped her head, looking down as she fished out what she would need, not planning on interacting with any of her peers.

Amelia had taken to twisting the beads of her necklace between her fingers, much in the way one praying the rosary might move, but Amelia wasn't praying to a higher power. She was arguing with herself again - mentally, of course; one must keep the crazy to the inside if one wants to retain the ability to come and go as they please - and was only distracted from it when a student appeared in the doorway.

He was pale and dark-haired, but her quick survey of him was nothing compared to the sweep her gave her. Amelia felt his eyes moving over her and fought the urge to squirm; being in the spotlight had never been her forte, and that amount of focused attention made her uncomfortable. With great effort, though, she managed to hold still long enough for him to deem it safe to enter the classroom and break the silence.

"Good morning," Amelia answered, thankful that this first conversation required no more of her than exchanging pleasantries. She had seen this boy around the castle, but they have never interacted. Amelia remembered every conversation she had ever had, word for word, and her mental Rolodex told her that the boy in front of her was Slytherin - though the robes could have easily told her the same thing - but that they had never shared anything more in common than being students of the same school.

Shortly after exchanging her greeting with the first student, another body appeared behind him. This one Amelia recognized easily as Samuel Grigori, and he recognized her easily as well. Amelia could tell that his means of addressing her had undertones of questioning her authority, and although she wanted to call him out on it, she found that she wasn't quite up to making a scene before class had even started. She would really need to work on that if she wasn't going to become a doormat.

If he says anything again, I'll say something, Amelia promised herself, swallowing hard and merely nodding at Sam because she feared if she opened her mouth, she would say something spiteful and ruin her professional image. Another student arrived while she was recovering, and Amelia glanced at the clock on the back wall to see how much time remained before the lesson was set to begin.

"We've got a few more minutes left before the lesson," Amelia said, focusing on keeping her tone even and not letting her nervousness tighten her throat, "So if you can all take your seats, we'll wait to see if anyone else deems it worthwhile to join us."

It was her first day back in classes and Hitame felt like she was already late for class. She still had a few minutes before the actual class started but if she didn't run she wouldn't make it in time. So she raced down the hallway, careful not to bump into anyone, to get to the Potions class.

She screeched to a halt as she neared the door of the class, and she walked in. She had heard there was going to be a new Potions professor, but she didn't know who it was. So as soon as she entered the room, her eyes wandered over directly to the professor. She was somewhat surprised to see who it was. The girl she had met during the reconstruction of the school, what was her name? Amelia, she thought it was.

Hitame walked a bit closer to her, "Good morning Professor." she said with a bright smile, before turning to see who else was in the class. Only three other students, she let out a relieved sigh. She wasn't so late after all. She walked away from the new professor and took a seat at the back of the class, as she so often did the years before.

Julien was on time. He was almost always on time. Being early was not his style. If he were earlier than usual, he would slow his walking pace, or perhaps stand at a corner to people-watch, before moving off to class. The second option was more attractive to him though, since walking slowly stirs up his impatience. Today, though, impatience was stirred up not by the slower pace he had to take, but by the fact that he had found his hair products missing yesterday. How vexing it was, for someone who would spend a prolonged time in the mornings on his hair, to not have anything to do with it this time. Breakfast was done in a sulky mood. He had sat with his friends at the Ravenclaw table, and merely allowed their words to fly by him. It was almost as if he would allow the day to fall apart on the premise of his lack of grooming.

When Julien entered the class, there were already others in it. One look at the new Professor, however, was enough to stop him in his steps. He had a good memory, that came along with the Ravenclaw intelligence. He knew who she was, but what was she doing here? A professor? He would never have seen that coming. Amelia Lyons. Almost every Ravenclaw who was old enough and who saw her enough, even if they failed to know her personally, would know the name. The Ice Queen, or so she was nicknamed. Julien had only ever smiled at her in greeting before in the common room. She was a few years older than him, but he was polite at that time. He would do the same now.

"Bonjour ..." He paused. "...Professor Lyons." Julien pronounced her last name clearly, as if indicating proudly that he had remembered it. And then, he turned his head to look at the seats available. Not one to choose to sit alone, the boy had to quickly decide who he was going to sit himself near. He stared at the face of a Slytherin boy. As much as the face appealed to him, Julien declined the option. He always avoided Slytherins in classes. It was too much of a distraction trying to figure out their schemes in classes, especially if they chose to plant one on you. Going for what he believed to be the friendliest face, Julien walked up to where a Gryffindor brunette girl had sat herself at. It was at the back of the class, but he would pay attention no matter where he sat himself anyway. Only Divination bore him.

Julien smiled at the Gryffindor girl, before sitting himself down. "Bonjour," he greeted. "I'm Julien." Introductions always helped, especially in class, and he did not spare them from her.

Though her grades weren’t impeccable by any stretch of the imagination, she’d always been fairly able in most classes - potions, however, was Melissa Finnigan’s kryptonite. She’d received her timetable the night before and she hadn’t had much time to look at it until that morning. Millie had purposely taken it off of her class choices so she didn’t end up killing someone. Evidently though, someone was toying with her and she immediately decided it was best to blame her mother. Lavender was always to blame, always; even for things she most likely had no hand in. It was probably her fault in some way or another. Millie mightn’t have known quite what but she was guilty of many things and why not add Potions to that list?

Much to Millie’s dismay it was not a typo so she resigned herself to the fact that she would have to go to Potions. She would spend an hour pretending she knew what was going on and then proceed to either melt her cauldron or explode her mixture. She was hoping and praying that they wouldn’t start off with practical. She struggled with theory but at least there was a lower chance of her blowing something up. There was still that chance but Millie was feeling quite chipper so she was up and ready to take on potions. Hopefully she wouldn’t blow herself up or turn her skin luminous pink in the process but she was going to give it a damn good whack.

“GOOOOOD MORNING!” She exclaimed wildly, throwing the classroom door open with a flourish. Perhaps she was just that little bit too chipper for Potions. Millie stopped in the doorway and cocked her head to the side at the sight of the teacher. How bizarre. She recognized Amelia immediately and she couldn’t help but laugh - not at her but at the hilarity of the situation. “Hi Amelia! Then again, I suppose its Professor Lyons now. Oh Merlin...that’s weird. Never mind though, eh?” Millie closed the door behind her and dumped her stuff down on one of the back tables. She dropped herself down in the seat and leaned forward, bringing her arms onto the table and her chin down on her forearms.

Damien rolled his eyes. The next student that barged into the class was exactly the type of person that Hogwarts could do less with, at least in his opinion. Perhaps with the new set of rules from Grindelwald, with hopefully more to come, some kind of framework could be set to marginalise people like that. One could only hope, for now. In response to Sam, Damien merely sneered. He only waited for Amelia's return greeting before turning away, walking to one of the back tables.

As soon as he sat himself down, more people came in. Damien watched everyone who came in, like a hawk, liking no one that he saw. Where were the Slytherins? The bulk of them had been quiet, so far. Damien was not happy about it. He was bored with waiting for things to happen.

Bored, Damien supported his head, with his elbow on the table, while his other hand began to drum against the edge of the table. And then a horrid ruckus began. Annoyed, the boy's eyes darted to the entrance of the classroom, only to see yet another one of those that Hogwarts could do less with. She was worse, though, compared to Sam. This one could bring the walls down with the noise she was making.

Damien's luck couldn't get any worse. While scowling at the girl ever since her entrance, he realised that she was walking towards his direction. Soon enough, she had chosen a seat next to him. Internally, he groaned. Was she going to be talking in the way she was throughout the lesson? He contemplated shifting seats, but it would be an undignified act, as if he genuinely had dignity.

Anyhow, Damien remained in his seat, although he shifted so that he could lean further away from the girl. Still, he eyed her cautiously.