Scars, Part 3

by Geri ([email protected])

My homepage: http://www.geocities.com/geri_chans_fics/index.html

Rating: NC-17 overall

Pairings: Snape/Lupin, Ash/Tsubasa; also a little Theodore/Blaise, Dylan/Hermione, and Aric/Takeshi

Author's note: {} Indicates character's unspoken thoughts; [] indicates song lyrics.

Disclaimer: Based on the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling; song lyrics are from "Scars" by Papa Roach. No money is being made off this story; consider it a little wish fulfillment on my part.

Warning: AU. This story contains a character from Half-Blood Prince, but does not follow the HBP storyline.

Sequel to: Always, Summer Vacation, For Old Time's Sake, Three's a Crowd, Return of the Raven, Phoenix Reborn, Phoenix Rising, Aftermaths, The Revenant, Ash's Story, and Summer Vacation III.

Summary: A new scholar is hired to work at the museum; an interesting artifact is found at the archaeological dig; Blaise starts his new job at Hogwarts.
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It was the end of his shift, and Blaise was changing out of his uniform and into his street clothes. He was looking forward to starting his new job at Hogwarts next week, but he had enjoyed his summer job as a docent at the Museum of Wizarding History. It didn't pay much, but it had given him some ideas for the History of Magic lessons he would be soon be teaching. He wondered if the Headmaster would allow him to bring his classes on a field trip to the museum; perhaps the students would take more of an interest in History if it was something that they could actually see and touch instead of just dry words on a page.

The sound of a crash from the hall outside the locker room distracted Blaise from his thoughts, and he peered out the doorway to see what was going on. A blond wizard with thick-lensed spectacles was carrying a cardboard box overflowing with books and papers, and he had apparently dropped a stack of books on the floor.

"Ah, Mr. Zabini!" the Director of the museum called. "Could you give us a hand?"

"Of course, sir," Blaise replied, and picked up the dropped books.

"Thank you, Mr. Zabini," the Director said. "This is Professor Bletchley, the latest addition to the staff. Professor, this is Mr. Zabini, one of our docents, who will soon be leaving us to take a position at Hogwarts."

"Nice to meet you," Bletchley said with a friendly grin. He had shoulder-length blond hair pulled back in a loose tail, but several strands had come loose and were falling across his face; he shook his head impatiently in an attempt to get them out of his eyes. "I'd offer to shake your hand, but mine are a bit full at the moment."

"No problem, sir," Blaise said, smiling back at him. "Can I help you carry these?"

"That would be a great help, Mr. Zabini," the Director said before Bletchley could reply, so Blaise followed them to the new staff member's office. "We're very lucky to have obtained the services of such a respected scholar," the Director informed Blaise, who nodded politely, while Bletchley looked a bit embarrassed.

The Director left after seeing them to the office, but Blaise stayed to help Bletchley unpack and shelve his books. "Are you related to Miles Bletchley, Professor?" he asked. "We were housemates together at Hogwarts; I was a year behind him in Slytherin." Professor Bletchley looked a little like Miles, although he was less brawny than the former Slytherin Keeper and at least fifteen years older; he appeared to be in his mid-to-late thirties.

"Oh, please don't call me 'Professor'!" Bletchley groaned good-naturedly. "It's really more of an honorary title, since I did a few guest lectures at Durmstrang. I'm not really a teacher, but a scholar who specializes in ancient magical artifacts. Please call me 'Henry'. Oh, and Miles is my cousin, by the way."

"Then please call me 'Blaise,'" Blaise said politely. "Wait a minute...Henry Bletchley? Aren't you the one who--?" He broke off mid-sentence, belatedly realizing that his question was rather rude, but Henry just laughed.

"Yes, I'm the one who got turned into a toad at my grandmother's funeral," Henry admitted. "A fluorescent green toad with pink spots. By my own brother, no less. He always had a nasty temper, one of the reasons why I chose work assignments that took me abroad." He shuddered a little. "It took a week for the spots to fade, even after I was changed back into human form, which was less disturbing than the urge to snap at passing flies--which also took a week to fade."

Blaise nodded sympathetically; as a Slytherin, he'd been witness to a number of nasty hexes cast by his housemates, although he'd been fortunate in that he had managed to avoid being one of their victims. Probably the fact that he had been Theodore's roommate had protected him somewhat, because Theodore had been part of Draco's in-crowd, but he had also worked hard to keep a low profile and avoid attracting attention to himself.

Henry was a friendly and easy-going sort, and Blaise had the opportunity to chat with him several more times before his last week at the museum was up. They were having lunch together in the cafeteria one day when the topic of conversation turned towards Henry's last project, a study of some ancient Egyptian artifacts.

"They have a very different system of magic from ours," Henry explained, then sighed wistfully. "I was hoping to write a paper on it...maybe someday I'll get the chance to go back to Egypt and finish my research."

"I don't understand," Blaise said. "If your research wasn't finished, why did you leave? Was the job opportunity here too good to pass up?"

"Well, it is a very interesting and unique assignment I've been given," Henry replied. "I've been called in to examine some artifacts from an ongoing archaeological dig in Ireland..."

"Oh!" Blaise exclaimed in surprise. "My...um...friend is working on that dig. He's an apprentice to Master Tremayne, who has been translating the runes that they find."

Henry smiled knowingly, although not unkindly, so he must have heard the gossip about Blaise and Theo. "Ah yes, Professor Snape's son," was all he said, but Blaise still blushed a little. "However," Henry continued, "the Irish artifacts might not have been enough to lure me back from Egypt, except that the head of my family ordered me to take the job." A hint of ironic and slightly bitter humor entered his voice. "And I am too much of a good little pureblood to disobey."

"Why did your family want you to take the job?" Blaise asked hesitantly, since it seemed to be a touchy subject.

"It's the news that Erika Dietrich has been appointed as the new heir of the Dietrich family," Henry sighed. "Every pureblood family with a spare son will be parading them before the Dietrich family as potential husbands for the new heir, or should I say, heiress?"

"Erika?" Blaise asked, staring at him in shock. "You want to marry Erika?"

"Well, not really," Henry said morosely. "It's nothing personal against the young lady, of course, but to be honest, I prefer my life as a bachelor scholar. And if I marry Miss Dietrich, I'll be expected to stay home in England and help her run the family estate, and I won't be able to travel around the world to conduct my research as I'm used to doing." He sighed again. "However, as the second son of a second son, I would never be able to inherit an estate on my own, so it's a good opportunity to advance myself, even if I have to marry into my wife's family. Or at least, that's what my father and my uncle keep telling me. If my brother wasn't already married, no doubt they'd be pushing him off on Miss Dietrich, too. My cousin Miles, of course, is the Bletchley heir, so they don't want him taking on the Dietrich name."

"Not to mention that he's already engaged to Millicent Bulstrode," Blaise said.

"Oh, they wouldn't hesitate to pressure him to break off the engagement if they thought that he could make a better alliance with another family," Henry said cynically. "But as I'm the spare son with no other prospects, they've decided that I'll do well enough."

"No offense," Blaise said, "but I don't think that you're going to be very successful in courting Erika with that attitude." Then he smiled slyly and asked, "Or is that the idea?"

Henry grinned. "I'm hoping that Miss Dietrich will pick some other lucky fellow for her bridegroom, and then I can go back to my research in Egypt. In the meantime, my job here isn't really so bad; I've heard that they've found some interesting artifacts at your friend's dig. They should be arriving soon, after the Aurors finish their inspection. Er...by the way, do you know Miss Dietrich? I noticed that you mentioned her by name. I hope that I haven't offended you if she's a friend of yours..."

"Oh, not at all," Blaise reassured him. "I don't really know her very well, but she's a cousin of my friend Theodore. She seems nice enough; she stood by her brother even after he got turned into a werewolf. No one else in the Dietrich family has spoken to Aric since that day."

Henry nodded sympathetically. "I can imagine, poor fellow. I'm sure that my name would be burned off the family tapestry if that ever happened to me."

"I do admire her for that," Blaise said. "And she's very pretty. But Theo says that she's a bit...ah...strong-willed. She's not your typical pureblood girl who will defer to her husband on everything. If those potential bridegrooms think that they can just marry her and take over the Dietrich estate, they're in for a very big disappointment."

"She sounds like a very formidable young woman," Henry said. "Which she will need to be in order to run the estate, I'm sure, but I admit that I find the prospect a bit daunting." Then he smiled and said, "Well, never mind. Despite my family's hopes, I'm sure that she'll find a suitor who is much younger and handsomer than I, and much more capable of helping her run the estate. She won't want some boring scholar who's nearly old enough to be her father."

Blaise decided not to tell him that his lack of ambition would probably make him a more attractive marriage candidate in Erika's eyes than youth or good looks. From what he'd heard from Theo and Aric, Erika wouldn't want an ambitious husband who might try to wrest control of the estate from her, and most of the young pureblood men her age who would be courting her were quite ambitious. She might well prefer a husband who would spend all of his time on scholarly pursuits and not challenge her authority as head of the Dietrich family. But since Henry seemed so happily convinced that he had no chance of becoming Erika's husband, Blaise decided not to burst his bubble.
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"Very interesting," Master Tremayne said as he examined the latest artifact that the team had dug up. It was a stone medallion about the size of a man's palm, probably meant to be worn like a necklace, as there was a small hole drilled through the top of it, although the leather cord that had been strung through it had mostly rotted away. The medallion had been engraved with a depiction of what appeared to be the different phases of the moon, and there were a number of mysterious runes etched along the edges of the medallion, below the moon engravings. However, a small section of the medallion had been chipped off, probably broken in whatever calamity had caused the wizard's tower to fall--possibly an arcane duel, although Theodore shuddered to think how much magical power would have to be expended to bring down a tower of this size. If it had been a duel, the wizards involved must have possessed power near or equal to that of the Dark Lord. Theodore gave silent thanks to Merlin that the duelists were long dead by now, and turned his attention back to the medallion.

"This looks like the rune for 'wolf,'" Theodore said, pointing to a rune on the medallion. "And this one means 'moon'. I don't recognize the others, though."

"Yes," Tremayne said, frowning. "I'm certain that this wizard was using some sort of code, probably to prevent others from deciphering his spells. The runes are similar to the system that we're familiar with, but different enough that one can't cast spells in his books or operate the artifacts without the key to the code."

"Can you break the code?" Theodore asked.

Tremayne shrugged. "With enough time. It could take months, or it could take decades. In any case, make a sketch of the medallion, Mr. Snape. It's being sent to the museum for safekeeping, so we'll have to work from our notes."

"Yes, sir," Theodore said, and obediently began copying the runes and engravings onto a sheet of parchment. "Do you think that it might have something to do with lycanthropy? Maybe something to control the monthly transformation, the way that the Wolfsbane Potion does?"

"A reasonable guess, considering the wolf rune and the moon phases," Tremayne said, still frowning at the medallion. "But if it were some sort of device to suppress or lessen the severity of the transformation, I would expect to see only the full moon on the medallion, since that is time of month when a werewolf transforms. As you can see, it shows all the phases of the moon from crescent to full. I suspect that this portion here, which has broken off, would show the new moon."

"Maybe the werewolf had to wear it for the entire month for it to work," Theodore suggested.

"Possibly, but right now, that is pure speculation," Tremayne said. "If we can decipher the code, we should be able to learn more about the artifact."

"It's a pity that we can't hold onto it longer, then," Theodore said.

"Well, it has a slight aura of Dark Magic about it," Tremayne told him. "So the powers that be feel it would be safer under lock and key at the museum. And the museum has brought in a specialist in ancient artifacts who will attempt to learn more about the powers of the medallion and the other artifacts that have been unearthed."

"Oh, that's good," Theodore said. "It would be wonderful if the medallion had some sort of magic that can help werewolves."

Tremayne smiled, looking amused. "Ah yes, your father's...companion...is a werewolf."

Theodore grinned, unoffended. "Yes, and so is my cousin Aric, and my former teacher, Master Diggory."

"Well, I wouldn't hope for too much, Mr. Snape," Tremayne said. "Dark items are rarely beneficial, and besides, it's probably too damaged to function."

"Maybe we can still learn something useful from it, even if the magic no longer works," Theodore said philosophically. "If nothing else, it might make an interesting footnote in Professor Lupin's book." Tremayne raised his eyebrows questioningly, and Theodore explained, "His last letter said that he's thinking of writing a textbook on lycanthropy, one to replace the current texts that are full of lies and inaccuracies."

"Well, he's an expert in the field, I suppose," Tremayne said dryly, and Theodore laughed. He quickly resumed copying the runes, since Tremayne had little patience for idle chatter, but he made a mental note to write to Remus about the medallion.
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Blaise took the Floo to Hogwarts on the first day of school, arriving in the morning, well ahead of his sister and the other students who would be traveling by train. The teachers, he had been informed, came in early to get settled in, prepare for the students' arrival, and to attend the obligatory start-of-term staff meeting. The Headmaster himself greeted Blaise when he arrived at the school, and showed him to his new quarters. He would be living at the school now, as most of the other teachers did, and he looked around the room, feeling a little awestruck. It wasn't actually "a" room, though, but a small suite of rooms: a drawing room with a desk, a worn but comfortable-looking couch and armchair, and a fireplace with a neat stack of logs already laid in it; a bedroom; and a bathroom. It was quite luxurious compared to his room at home or his old dorm room. Although he wistfully thought that he preferred the dorm room, if only because Theo had shared it with him. Still, if he couldn't be with Theo, this was a very nice place to live. And Theo would be able to visit him from time to time, and they would have more privacy here than in the dorm.

"I'll leave you to unpack and get settled in, then," Dumbledore said, smiling at Blaise's reaction to his new quarters. "The meeting will begin in half an hour in the staff room."

"Yes, sir," Blaise said.

"No need to be so formal, Blaise," Dumbledore chided gently. "Please call me 'Albus'."

"Uh...yes, sir," Blaise replied awkwardly, and Dumbledore left, chuckling quietly. Blaise thought to himself that it would be a very long time before he felt comfortable addressing the Headmaster by his first name.

Blaise went down to the staff room dressed in a set of new robes, a gift from his grandfather, who had pointed out with Slytherin cynicism and practicality that the students would not respect him if he turned up in his usual shabby old or secondhand robes. The robes were cut in a conservative, traditional style and dyed a plain, sober black, which was supposed to give him the properly serious look that a teacher was expected to have, but Blaise felt rather like a fraud or a child play-acting as he took a seat among his former Professors. He wasn't sure if he would ever be able to think of them as colleagues rather than as his teachers.

Lupin, who was sitting next to him, gave him a wink and a friendly smile. "Relax, Blaise, no one's going to give you detention."

Blaise laughed, releasing a little nervous tension, and grinned at Lupin sheepishly. "I do feel that way, though. It's a bit scary, being in the presence of so many teachers at once. It makes me feel guilty, somehow, even though I haven't done anything wrong."

Lupin chuckled and shook his head. "Blaise, I don't think that you've ever gotten detention during your entire time at Hogwarts."

"Well...no, I haven't," Blaise admitted. As a member of a low-ranking pureblood family that had been in disfavor with the suspected Death Eater families, he had done his best to avoid attracting attention--good or bad--to himself, almost to the point of becoming invisible. He had never warranted special praise from his teachers, but neither had he ever received a reprimand or detention from them, either.

"Even if you're nervous, don't let the students see it, Zabini," Snape said in a cool, curt voice. "You'll never be able to gain their respect, otherwise."

"Yes, sir," Blaise said, a little startled by the unexpected advice from Snape, which was welcome despite the curt manner in which it had been delivered. But of course Snape would know what it was like to be a young teacher nervous about starting a new job. He had been only a few years older than Blaise when he had first started teaching at Hogwarts, which meant that he had been working among his former Professors and teaching students who remembered him as a fellow student rather than a teacher. He was trying to work up the nerve to ask Snape for more advice when the Headmaster walked in and began the staff meeting.

"First of all," Dumbledore said with a warm smile, "I'd like to welcome our new staff members: Professor Tsubasa and Master Zabini." There was a polite smattering of applause, and the new Professor bowed his head graciously. He was extraordinarily handsome--almost pretty, in fact, with a long tail of silky black hair that any girl would envy, but what Blaise envied was his air of serenity and composure. Despite starting a new job in a foreign country, Professor Tsubasa did not look the slightest bit nervous.

Dumbledore passed out copies of the class schedules to the teachers. "Minerva and Tsubasa will trade off on lessons, teaching on alternate days."

"Won't that be confusing for the students, Albus?" Sprout asked, frowning slightly. "To have two teachers giving different and perhaps contradictory instructions on the same subject?"

"Not at all," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "I think it will be very educational for the students to get two different perspectives on the subject."

"I will not be contradicting Professor McGonagall's lessons," Tsubasa said pleasantly. "Rather, let us say that I will be supplementing them and providing, as the Headmaster says, a different perspective. For example, the fact that wizards in Asia don't always use wands, although they usually do use some sort of similar object to focus their magical powers."

"My, that is rather radical!" Flitwick exclaimed. "Not using wands!"

"I'm not by any means suggesting that the students should throw away their wands," Tsubasa assured him. "They should be using the focus object which is most familiar and comfortable to them, which is in this case, a wand. But perhaps it would be useful for them to know that the focus object does not always have to be a wand."

Blaise said timidly, "I remember that Professor Chizuru could work wandless magic," and Tsubasa smiled at him.

Sprout still looked a bit doubtful, but McGonagall said, "I have no objection to it, Pomona. I have spoken with Professor Tsubasa and reviewed his transcripts from Salem, and I have every confidence in his abilities."

Sprout nodded, keeping whatever doubts she might still have to herself, and Dumbledore continued, "And Tsubasa has kindly agreed to assist Lukas with his Physical Defense classes. He'll assist in about half of the lessons, and take over completely when Lukas takes some time off to spend with his wife when their baby is due." A wide, proud, and slightly silly grin spread across Diggory's face; the other teachers smiled at him indulgently. Even Snape looked amused.

"As for Blaise's duties," Dumbledore said, "each History of Magic class will be split into two sessions. Professor Binns will lecture for the first portion of the class, and Blaise will take over for the second portion, reviewing the material with the students and giving what assignments he sees fit."

Blaise just nodded, and Dumbledore moved on to the next item on the agenda. He decided that maybe it would be better to ask the Headmaster for permission to take his classes on field trips later, in private. That way the other teachers wouldn't have an opportunity to object; from their reaction to Tsubasa, Blaise got the impression that most of them didn't care for drastic changes to the curriculum. A field trip didn't seem that drastic a change to Blaise, but most of the faculty had been at Hogwarts since before he had been born and were very set in their ways, and he knew that at least a few of them were bound to object on the grounds that "we've never done that before, so why start now?"

There was a little more discussion on what seemed to be routine staff business, such as Filch asking for the authority to inflict harsher punishments on misbehaving students, which was denied by Dumbledore. The other teachers looked bored, as if this was a frequent occurrence.

"I don't think we need to resort to whips and chains just yet, Argus," Dumbledore said cheerfully, and Filch sighed, looking disgruntled but not surprised. "You may feel free to assign them to scrubbing any part of the castle that needs cleaning, however."

"That won't be enough to keep the Gryffindors out of trouble," Filch grumbled.

"Whips and chains do sound rather appealing, at least when applied to Gryffindors," Snape muttered under his breath.

"Why Severus," Lupin whispered sweetly into Snape's ear, "I had no idea that you were into that sort of thing! It sounds a little kinky, but if you really want to try it..."

"Lupin!" Snape hissed, glaring at Lupin murderously, his pale, sallow face turning bright red. Blaise did his best "I'm invisible" act, trying to keep the expression on his face bland and indifferent, as if he hadn't heard any of that exchange. Snape shot a suspicious look his way, but Blaise pretended to be absorbed in taking notes on what the Headmaster was saying, and Snape turned back to glare at Lupin again as the werewolf smiled at him innocently.

The meeting was wrapped up a short time after that. Hagrid and McGonagall had to prepare for the arrival of the first years, since Hagrid was responsible for conducting them to the castle and McGonagall was in charge of the Sorting ceremony, but all the other teachers were free until it was time for dinner in the Great Hall.

Snape seemed to have calmed down by then, so Blaise took the risk of approaching him as he left, and asked hesitantly, "Could I speak to you for a moment, sir?" Snape paused and nodded, not looking especially friendly, but not angry either. That was about as good as it was going to get with Professor Snape, so Blaise continued, "I am a little nervous about teaching, especially the seventh-years, who are almost the same age that I am. Since you were only a few years older than me when you started teaching, I just wondered if you had any words of advice for me, Professor?"

"As I said earlier, don't let them see that you're nervous," Snape instructed. "The Slytherins especially can scent any trace of fear, as I'm sure you already know. And don't let them call you by your first name; make them address you by your proper title, the same as the other teachers. If you're too familiar with them, it will be difficult to gain their respect." He nodded at Lupin. "For example, Lupin was too soft on the students when he first started teaching here. He didn't crack down on Malfoy when he made his insulting little comments, and as a result, the Slytherins felt free to treat him with disrespect." Snape added grudgingly, "Although he did become more strict with the students when he returned to Hogwarts two years ago, but it's much better to gain the students' respect from the beginning than to try to regain it later."

"And if they do disrespect me?" Blaise asked.

"Punish them immediately, of course," Snape said impatiently. "You're a teacher now; you have the authority to deduct points and give detention. "

"Yes, that's true," Blaise agreed, relaxing slightly. He supposed that if he needed to keep the students in line, he could use Snape as a role model, although he had a long way to go before he could be anywhere near as intimidating as the Potions Master.

"Don't worry, Blaise," Lupin laughed, throwing an arm around his shoulders. "Everything will be fine."
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Teaching the younger students went pretty smoothly, since most of them didn't know him very well, and the first-years didn't know him at all, so to them he was merely another teacher. Except, of course, for his second-year Gryffindor class. Things started off well enough; they got into a spirited discussion about the Goblin Wars, and the students seemed delighted to have a living teacher instead of the ghostly Professor Binns. However, Allegra kept calling him "Blaise" instead of his proper title.

"You know that you're supposed to call me 'Master Zabini' in class, Allegra," Blaise scolded gently after the third offense, while the other students giggled.

"But I feel so silly calling you that," Allegra complained. "You're my brother, after all."

Blaise was in a bit of a dilemma here; his sister, who was fearless to the point of foolishness, and more importantly, had known him all her life, was not likely to be intimidated by him--not even if he threatened her with detention. And if her classmates could see that he had no authority over her, he was likely to lose his authority over them, too. He thought for a moment, then decided to try a slightly different tactic.

"Here I am your teacher, not your brother," he said sternly, and Allegra pouted a little. "Would you ever dare to call Professor McGonagall 'Minerva'? Or Professor Snape 'Severus'?" The students giggled nervously at the mention of Snape's name.

"But you were just a student like us a few months ago," Kenneth Sloper pointed out, in a tone of voice that Professor Snape would probably have called "cheeky". He and his older brother Jack were among the students who had viewed all Slytherins as potential Death Eaters. They had been proven wrong, and were somewhat humbled by it, but a bit of House rivalry and antipathy still lingered.

"I cannot teach you if you do not treat me with the respect due a teacher," Blaise said quietly, then shrugged indifferently and made a show of gathering up his books and papers. "It's too bad," he sighed. "I had been looking forward to teaching you, and perhaps taking the class on a field trip to the museum."

"Field trip?" several students asked eagerly.

"But I'm sure that you won't mind having Professor Binns return to being your full-time teacher," Blaise said, heading for the door. "I'll inform the Headmaster of the change in schedule. Good day."

The students suddenly looked frantic at the thought of being stuck listening to Professor Binns's droning lectures on a full-time basis.

"Hey, wait a minute!" Kenneth cried.

"Blaise, wait!" Allegra shouted.

Blaise ignored them both, and had just placed his hand on the doorknob when Allegra said meekly, "Please wait, Master Zabini." He paused, then turned to face the class.

One of the other Gryffindor boys elbowed Kenneth in the side, and he said just as meekly, "We want you to teach us, Master Zabini."

"Yes, this is the first time that I haven't felt like falling asleep in History class," Chloe Sinclair said earnestly, and the class burst into laughter.

Blaise smiled and returned to the head of the classroom. Allegra raised her hand, and he said, "Yes, Miss Zabini?"

Allegra grinned at being called "Miss," and asked, "So when do we get to go on the field trip?"

"After I ask the Headmaster for permission, and after you've all proven to me that you can behave," Blaise replied firmly. There were a few mutters of disappointment, but they quickly died away, and the class was attentive and respectful for the rest of the period.
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For most of his classes, the threat of sleep-inducing boredom was enough to keep them in line. He had expected the most trouble to come from his own House, but Slytherins were used to bowing to those in authority. They tested him with a few insolent remarks to see how much he would tolerate, and once he had demonstrated that he held authority over them by taking away a few points and making veiled threats as to how Professor Snape would be disappointed if they lost the House Cup this year, they regarded him with respect and were almost downright docile.

The seventh-year Slytherins were the ones who were most familiar with him and closest to him in age, and they did give him a little bit of trouble. Dylan and Damien were two of his best friends, and although they teased him about his new title in private, they obediently called him "Master" in class, although with a grin and a wink in Damien's case. But a few of the others complained about having to address him as "Master Zabini" and accused him of putting on airs.

"You're just a year older than us, after all," a boy named Harper complained. He regarded Blaise with a superior and slightly disdainful look that said without words that he was well aware of the difference in social status between them. The Harpers were a wealthy pureblood family--although not as wealthy as the Snapes or Malfoys--while Blaise's family ran a junk shop and just barely managed to stay above the poverty line.

"That may be so, Mr. Harper," Blaise said, doing his best to imitate Snape's cold glare. "But nevertheless, I am your teacher, and your grades are dependent on me. I understand that you're applying for a Ministry position when you graduate, which means that you'll need to get high grades on your N.E.W.T.s. Of course, some students are capable of passing their N.E.W.T.s without any assistance." He glanced at Dylan, who smiled modestly. "But judging by your past History of Magic grades, I'd say that you need all the help you can get."

Harper stared at him, a look of consternation on his face, as he realized that antagonizing his new teacher might not have been such a smart move after all, and Brad Doherty leaned over from the seat behind and thumped him on the head with a History textbook.

"Ow!"

"You stupid git! Do you really want to pass up the chance to have a teacher who's actually alive instead of a ghost who practically talks you to death in class?"

Harper rubbed the back of his head and said, a bit sullenly, "I beg your pardon, Master Zabini."

Blaise let the sullenness pass without comment, and merely nodded and continued the lesson. The boy had apologized, however grudgingly, and he saw no need to rub it in further. Purebloods were touchy about their pride, and there was no sense in making an enemy, particularly out of a prominent Slytherin family.

Yvonne Deveraux slumped forward in her seat, resting her elbows on her desk and propping her chin up in her hands. "I don't really see the point of taking History lessons at all," she sighed in a bored tone, then added after a brief pause, "with all due respect, Master Zabini. Who cares about things that happened hundreds of years ago?"

"Well, whether you like it or not, you want to get a good grade on your N.E.W.T., don't you?" Brad pointed out practically.

"I don't really care," Yvonne replied indifferently. "I'm not going to work at the Ministry, or anywhere else, most likely. My parents will arrange a marriage for me in a year or two, and I don't need to be an expert in History to have children and look after the house."

Yvonne's grades had been uniformly mediocre throughout the six years she had spent at Hogwarts, but Blaise didn't really think that she was stupid. It was more, as she said, that she didn't see the need to exert herself at things that would not prove useful to her in the future, and all that was required of a pureblood wife was that she be a good hostess and bear children to her husband. Which was probably why she spent more of her time flirting and fussing over cosmetics and clothing than studying. For the first time, it occurred to Blaise that although she came from a much wealthier and higher-ranking family than him, her options were much more limited. He had the freedom to work at whatever profession he chose, and of course he had Theo, while Yvonne would have to marry whatever man her parents chose for her or be disowned. She didn't seem to mourn her fate, but still, Blaise felt a little sorry for her.

"History is important, and not just in regard to your N.E.W.T.s," Blaise said quietly. "The present is affected by what happened in the past."

"What do you mean?" Yvonne asked, a hint of curiosity beginning to animate her features.

"Why did the Death Eaters come into existence?" Blaise countered, responding to her question with another question instead of replying directly.

"Well, because You-Know-Who formed them, of course," Yvonne said, frowning.

"Yes, but why did he form them?" Blaise asked patiently.

The class began to look puzzled and intrigued, and after thinking for a moment, Yvonne hesitantly replied, "Well, to hunt down Muggles and Mudbl--I mean, Muggle-borns."

Blaise smiled a little at that automatic correction--something that was the result of the Slytherins' fondness for Lupin, who never tolerated pejorative terms like "Mudblood" in his classes. It wasn't so much that they were afraid of receiving detention or being reprimanded, but more that they couldn't bear the look of disappointment in Lupin's eyes when they said things like that.

"But why did he want to kill them?" Blaise asked.

"Because he hated them, of course," Harper said impatiently.

"But why did he hate them?" Blaise persisted. "And why did so many of the purebloods agree with him?"

"Because Muggles are...Muggles," Harper replied, looking confused. He exchanged glances with some of his classmates, who shrugged and looked just as confused as he did.

"Salazar Slytherin said that the Muggle-born weren't worthy of being taught at Hogwarts," Damien ventured. "Maybe he thought that their magic wouldn't be as strong as a pureblood's."

"Well, Hermione obviously proves that theory wrong," Dylan said with a smile. "Of course, Salazar didn't know Hermione personally. Maybe he was afraid that if we intermarried with Muggles, too many Squib children would be born."

"But there aren't a lot of Squibs, even in families with Muggle blood," Yvonne said thoughtfully.

Serafina, who had been silent throughout the discussion so far, finally raised her hand, and Blaise called on her.

"Yes, Miss Avery?"

"It was the Muggles who drove all the wizards into hiding," Serafina said calmly, but with a touch of impatience, as if the answer should have been obvious. "They hunted down witches and wizards and burned them at the stake. That's why the wizarding world has to be kept secret from the Muggles, because they outnumber us enough to be a threat even though they don't have magic. Professor Lupin says that people hate what they fear, and when you get right down to it, we fear the Muggles."

"And that's why the Death Eaters--why most of the purebloods--hate Muggles so much!" Brad exclaimed excitedly. "Because they're a threat!"

"And because they don't want to admit that they're afraid of people who don't have magic," Yvonne chimed in, looking pleased with herself. Blaise smiled again; yes, she definitely wasn't stupid, just unmotivated up until now.

Even Harper began to get caught up in all the enthusiasm. "So You-Know-Who wanted to eliminate the threat that the Muggles posed, and to prove that he was more powerful than them."

"Very good!" Blaise approvingly. "Ten points to Miss Avery, and five each to the rest of you."

"So, History of Magic isn't so boring after all, huh, Yvonne?" Damien asked, grinning.

"Well, I guess maybe it is important to know about the past," Yvonne conceded.

"And you still might want to study for your N.E.W.T.s, Miss Deveraux," Blaise said. "It would give you options, in case you want to work after you're married, or if you decide to delay getting married."

"Hmm," was all Yvonne said, but she seemed to be considering his words.

"Your first assignment will be to write a report on an event or person in the past who has had a significant effect on the modern-day wizarding world," Blaise said. The class groaned, but it was only a token protest, and they eagerly began discussing report topics.

"I'm doing the Goblin Wars!" Damien declared.

Yvonne wrinkled her nose in distaste. "You boys always love blood and gore."

"Hey, it's an example of the distrust between the human and nonhuman races, which exists to this day," Damien defended himself with a virtuous air.

"Well, I shall do my report on the Founders," Yvonne decided. "Hogwarts wouldn't exist without them, after all."

"I'll do the Salem Witch Trials," Serafina said. "That ties in with what we were just discussing."

"I'll do my report on the inventor of Quidditch!" Brad said, and the others turned to stare at him.

"Well, Quidditch is very popular, but is it really historically significant?" Dylan asked.

"Of course it is!" Brad said indignantly. "Do you know how many political deals have been negotiated at Quidditch games? Why else do you think that there's a special box reserved for Ministry officials at every important match?"

"It sounds like you all have very good ideas," Blaise laughed. "I'll dismiss you early so that you can go to the library and start your research."

Dylan and Damien lingered behind after the others had left to slap Blaise on the back and congratulate him. "Looks like you're handling yourself pretty well, 'Professor'!" Damien said, winking at him.

"I'm not a Professor yet," Blaise reminded him.

"But you will be soon, I'm sure of it!" Dylan said.

"Be off with you, then, before I deduct points from you," Blaise said, setting his face in an expression of exaggerated sternness.

"That's pretty good!" Damien said. "McGonagall, right?" Then he ran laughing out of the room before Blaise could threaten him with detention. Dylan followed, smiling and shaking his head.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

That night at dinner, Snape asked, "Did the students give you any problems, Zabini?"

Blaise was pleased to be able to reply honestly, "None that I couldn't handle, sir." Snape said nothing, but raised his eyebrows and looked mildly impressed.

"I told you that I had every confidence in Mister...excuse me, Master Zabini, Severus," Dumbledore said cheerfully.

"Hmph!" Snape snorted, but didn't argue with the Headmaster.

After dinner, Blaise sat in front of the fireplace in his quarters, going over the next day's lesson plans and feeling a bit lonely. He was used to living at home with his family or in the dorm with the other Slytherins, so his quarters, while luxurious, were too large and empty for his comfort with only himself in them.

A scratching at the window distracted him and immediately cheered him up when he saw that it was Theodore's owl, Aristotle--a birthday gift from Lady Selima. She had bought Theo the owl so that it could carry messages for him to his friends and family, and she had chosen a great horned owl because it was large and strong, able to travel long distances and carry care packages from home back to its master.

Blaise opened the window and let Aristotle in, and the owl dropped a letter into his hand, then settled itself comfortably on his desk, seeming to be in no hurry to leave. Blaise chuckled and gently scratched the owl's chest, then opened a box of Owl Treats (kept on hand just for Aristotle's visits) and fed one to the owl. He was very friendly and affectionate, unlike the dignified Snape family owl, Socrates--although even Socrates behaved like a lapdog around Lupin, much to Lady Selima's disgust.

"Lady Selima would say that Theo and I spoil you," Blaise said, giving the owl one last scratch. "But I won't tell her if you don't." Then he opened the letter, which read:
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Dear Blaise,

I really miss you, but I'm enjoying my work here in Ireland. The team has found a lot of fascinating artifacts, although it's a bit frustrating because we haven't been able to figure out what most of them do. There's one medallion that probably has something to do with lycanthropy, possibly a device to control the transformation, but we can't really be sure until we finish translating the runes on it, and they seem to be written in some sort of code. Remus and the other werewolves manage well enough with the Wolfsbane Potion, of course, but it would be nice if we could learn something from the medallion that would help them. Maybe your friend Henry Bletchley at the museum can figure it out; I hear that he's an expert on magical artifacts. I feel kind of sorry for him, the poor git, his family trying to marry him off to Erika, haha! She's not really so bad now, but she was a real terror when we were kids; even Aric was a little scared of her!

I hope things are going well for you and that your students aren't giving you too much trouble. If they get out of line, ask Father to threaten them a little for you! Things have been very busy, but I hope to be able to come home for a weekend soon, maybe in a couple of weeks. I can't wait to see you; I miss you so much! It reminds me of how long summer vacations used to seem, and how I used to count the days until school started and I could see you again.

As always, I love you.

Theo
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Blaise smiled tenderly at the letter, then carefully folded it and slipped it back into the envelope and stored it away in an ebony box (scavenged from the junk shop) where he kept all of Theo's letters. Aristotle was still sitting placidly on the desk, eyeing the box of Owl Treats hopefully, so Blaise fed the owl another treat to keep him occupied, and began writing a reply, telling Theo about his first day of classes, and of course, how much he loved him.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Meanwhile, Aristotle had already delivered a letter to Snape and Lupin, which also mentioned the medallion that was being sent to the museum.

"Sounds quite intriguing," Lupin said. "Do you think it might yield some useful information about lycanthropy, Severus?"

Snape shrugged and said skeptically, "Perhaps, but I wouldn't hope for too much. For one thing, the artifact is damaged, which means that it probably no longer works, or at least, does not work properly. And for another, Theodore said that there was an aura of Dark Magic surrounding it."

"A slight aura," Lupin corrected him.

"And Dark Magic is rarely beneficial, although there are a few exceptions, such as the Blood Healing spell," Snape continued, ignoring the interruption. "But even then, it heals at the cost of draining another person of their blood. By definition, Dark Magic is magic that inflicts harm on its target. Even if this medallion has something to do with lycanthropy, it's much more likely to be something that will hurt a werewolf rather than help it."

Lupin sighed, looking a little disappointed. "Well, even if its intended purpose is harmful, we might still be able to learn something from it," he said hopefully.

"True," Snape conceded. "Perhaps Bletchley will be able to figure out what it does, although it's very difficult to get anything useful out of a broken item. Still, he's supposed to be an expert in ancient artifacts, so he might have some success with it. And if Theodore and Tremayne manage to translate the runes, at least we'll know what it's supposed to do. I wonder if it might be some sort of control device?"

"To control the transformation, as Theodore believes?" Lupin asked.

"To control the werewolf," Snape replied dryly. "It is a Dark item, after all. Still, it's unlikely that the device would have been very effective even when it was still whole. After all, during the first war, Voldemort tried to come up with a way to enslave the werewolves, but was unsuccessful. And if the Dark Lord could not accomplish such a thing, I doubt that any other wizard could."

"I remember," Lupin said gravely. "You said that he attempted to use that Werewolf Potion formula in the book that Williamson stole to create an army of werewolf slaves, but it was ineffective."

Snape nodded. "It's just as well, as I suppose. Imagine how much more dangerous he would have been with a pack of werewolves at his command."

Lupin shuddered. "And it would only have caused the wizarding world to hate and fear us even more."

"A few werewolves were inducted as Death Eaters during the first war," Snape said. "But they proved impossible to control during the full moon, and were as likely to attack their comrades as they were the enemy. And one of them, a man named Greyback, was impossible to control even as a human."

"Greyback," Lupin murmured, grimacing slightly. "I remember him; a very nasty sort."

"Vicious and sadistic," Snape agreed. "He enjoyed killing people as much as the Lestranges did, but he preferred to physically tear them apart with his own hands rather than use Forbidden Curses." Lupin shuddered again. "And of course, he delighted in killing and turning people during the full moon. Unlike most werewolves, he did not dread the full moon, but eagerly looked forward to it each month. But he didn't take well to orders, and had a tendency to go off on his own, even after being subjected to a Cruciatus Curse as punishment. Finally, he killed someone that Voldemort had deemed off-limits, a Ministry official that he had intended to recruit as a Death Eater, and the Dark Lord did away with him."

"It was a great relief to the Order," Lupin sighed.

"To me as well," Snape admitted. "Greyback always made the other Death Eaters uneasy, because we had the feeling that he could turn on us at any moment. Although I was a little disappointed when the Dark Lord gave up on his plan to create werewolf slaves, because it would have given me an excuse to work on the Wolfsbane Potion openly, instead of having to work in secret with Professor Kamiyama. But I suppose that it was all for the best."

"Yes," Lupin said. "You did manage to create the Wolfsbane Potion, even if you had to do it secretly, and Voldemort was never able to control the werewolves." Then he smiled at Snape mischievously, lightening the mood, and said flirtatiously, "Of course, this particular werewolf is already your slave, Professor Snape, without any need for potions or spells."

"Oh, really?" Snape purred in his deep, husky voice. "Then come here, werewolf, and prove your devotion to me."

Lupin growled happily and flung himself into Snape's arms with such enthusiasm that he almost knocked the Potions Master over.

Chapter 4

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