Chapter Six - Welcome to the Family

July 3, 2001

Terri felt herself being propelled forward two steps as a large hand connected powerfully with her back. "Ha! I knew ye'd do it!" Hagrid exclaimed, his booming voice echoing in the Great Hall.

"I told you she would!" Deidre corrected him, laughing, and grabbed Terri in a hug. Terri was too astonished to react at first, but then broke into a huge grin. She'd done it!

"Professor McGonagall will take care of the paperwork," said Dumbledore, still smiling as the excited women separated from their embrace. "But now, let me be the first one to shake your hand...literally." Dumbledore extended his hand, and everyone laughed--everyone except Snape, of course, who wore his usual dour expression. Terri shook the headmaster's hand, and his smile widened. "Arthur will be here right after he gets off work from the Ministry; he'll be taking you and Miss Freedman to the Burrow after that. I'll see you off then." And with that, he handed Terri over to the Transfiguration professor, who beckoned both her and Deidre to come along to her office.

The office looked very much like other teachers' offices Terri had been in. From the penants on the walls, Terri figured that McGonagall must be a big Gryffindor Quiddich fan--and why not? She was the head of the House, after all. The professor settled into a chair behind her tidy oak desk, and gestured for Terri and Deidre to do the same. "We haven't had many student teachers or teacher's assistants here at Hogwarts," she commented, reaching for several scrolls, "so I was relieved when I went over the standard forms to find they didn't need changing for this situation." She passed several scrolls, along with a quill and inkwell, to both Terri and Deidre, explaining each one and indicating where they needed to sign. Terri used the pen Snape had given her, but Deidre gamely tried to manage quill and ink, with blotchy but readable results.

Terri was amused to see the similarities between paperwork for a Muggle job and paperwork for a wizarding job. Employment policies; life insurance, to the amount of one year's salary, to be paid to a designated beneficiary ("May I name someone later?" "If you must--but sooner is better." "Yeah, Terri, you don't want to die first!"); a non-disclosure agreement (which elicited a surprised comment from Deidre, who had taught before, and an amused one from Terri, who held jobs dealing with "trade secrets" before); and finally, health insurance. This last one brought both Terri and Deidre up short.

"Er, Professor McGonagall?" Terri asked, a bit embarrassed.

"Yes?"

She indicated the institutional names listed on the form. "I'm afraid I--well, I guess it's because I'm not from around here, but I've never heard of these places before: St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries?"

"It's the best wizardly hospital in the United Kingdom," said McGonagall, frowning. "Possibly even the world, though I've heard that Nostradamus Memorial in the US--"

"Oh, I don't doubt it," Terri said hastily, then "er, sorry for interrupting."

"But now that you have," McGonagall responded, "please continue."

"Well, it's just that--" She dared a quick glance at Deidre, who actually looked relieved; her friend's mind had no doubt been thinking along the same lines, but for a change she'd dared not speak up. Plunging in, she continued "--that Deidre and I are, um, used to Muggle medicine. I suppose it sounds strange in your context, but..." Terri didn't know how to finish. Potions certainly worked well enough; but her appendix had been removed in a Muggle hospital with a Muggle surgeon wielding the scalpel, thank you very much, and, despite her knowledge of the failures of Muggle medicine, she felt more comfortable with the devil she knew.

"Oh, that." Professor McGonagall's small smile faded when she saw the expressions on both women's faces. Terri at first thought she might be insulted, but the professor's gentle words and tone when she next spoke said otherwise. "I think I can understand your concern. It's...a very different mindset." She pointed to a sentence several paragraphs down in the scroll. "We have an exchange system set up with the government's medical network. It's not used very often, but there are cases--mostly with chronic and fatal diseases, mind--where Muggle medicine works better than wizardly medicine. And vice versa, often enough." Her smile returned. "If it's any reassurance, I can tell you for a fact that much of the training for mediwizards and Muggle medical professionals overlaps significantly. Anatomy is anatomy, after all." She looked from one woman to the other. "I hope that reassures you that, as your employers, we wouldn't trust your good health to, er..."

"Witch doctors?" Deidre piped up. Terri covered her face with her hand and shook her head.

"Quite so," agreed McGonagall, though her lips had thinned at Deidre's comment.

Salary and payment was the next minor issue. It took a couple of minutes and a piece of scratch parchment for Terri to perform the conversion, but when food and board were figured in, she was actually making more money than she'd made at her old job. McGonagall offered to set up a direct deposit with Gringotts--which Terri would have been quite agreeable to, if she had a Gringotts account. "I'll try to set one up this week. They're located at Diagon Alley, right?" Terri asked. At McGonagall's nod, she continued, "I'll have to go there anyway. We have to get some books to bring Deidre up to speed--"

"Oh no, summer school," Deidre groaned, but gave McGonagall a good-natured smile.

"And I'll have to fix this." Terri held out her patched wand.

"Oh my goodness!" The professor hesitantly reached for the wand, delicately taking it from Terri's grasp. "How did this happen?"

"I made the rather unpleasant discovery that when pine meets oak, at force, oak wins." Her cheeks turned a bit pink. "Professor Snape's bookshelves, in this case. And like so many great discoveries, it was an accident." She sighed. "Some days I really wish I could trade in my feet, and yesterday was one of those."

The deputy headmistress seemed to be fighting a smile; she lost. "I can send you to Olivander's with a note--in fact, I'd better write a note." She looked at the Spellotape repair and frowned. "This looks too much as if the wand had been repaired after being deliberately broken, as it is when a student is expelled." Terri was surprised; Hagrid hadn't mentioned that his wand had been broken. At Terri's expression, McGonagall added, "That's rare, fortunately, but I wouldn't want any misunderstanding." She continued examining the wand, feeling the weight, gently testing the "swish." "Hmmmm, that's interesting," she murmured as she gently handed it back. "If anyone can fix it, Mr. Olivander can. His family has been in the business of making wands for millennia." Gesturing at the wand, she added, "And it would be a shame to have to replace that--it's not flashy, but quite serviceable, yes?"

"Yes indeed," said Terri, grinning. "That's what I went for when I made it, and that's what I got."

McGonagall's eyes widened. "You made that yourself?"

Terri nodded. "My first wand--so far, my only wand. I made it 13 years ago," she confirmed.

"Oh my--and here I thought only MY family still made our first wands ourselves!" She looked at the wand, and Terri, with new respect--which wasn't lost when Terri explained that she'd made it to save some money, because Gavin thought all the wands they could find at Thisa Way were overpriced.

Finally, the deputy headmistress handed Terri a pocket-sized book. It was an inch thick, covered in fine red silk, and displayed the Hogwarts seal on the front. It was the Employee Manual, and covered everything from sick leave to the procedure for making complaints to guidelines for awarding and deducting House points. "You'll want to read that through more than once," McGonagall pointed out. "Most of the students know what to expect as far as gaining or losing points for their House--though there is a good bit of flexibility in the system, of course." She lightly tapped the manual. "You shouldn't have to consult that in front of your students!"

Having finished with Professor McGonagall, Terri and Deidre rose, while the deputy headmistress conducted them back to the Great Hall. "Arthur should be arriving in about three hours," she said, "and he'll be meeting you here. We'll have your luggage brought down here by then." She gestured to the front doors. "Meanwhile, please feel free to take a walk around the grounds. The weather is lovely--"

"And we're less likely to get lost," Deidre finished. McGonagall frowned at her interruption, but nodded.

"Thank you, Professor, I think we will," Terri replied, with genuine enthusiasm. She felt she could use a bit of fresh air after spending three hours in the dungeons and the rest of the day indoors. Besides, there was always the possibility she might meet up with Hagrid...Stop that, she told herself sternly. This is no time to develop a schoolgirl crush.

It was indeed a lovely day; Terri and Deidre had both read that such days were much rarer in the UK than in the US, so were very much worth appreciating. Nor were they the only ones enjoying the weather; as they passed the lake, they saw a giant squid sunning itself. Deidre jumped about three feet, but Terri just stood and watched it for a moment. Then she took Deidre's hand and half-dragged her past it...after all, it wasn't going to chase them out on land, was it? As they passed, Terri hesitantly raised her hand and waved at the creature; it raised its tentacles and waved back.

"That thing is friendly?" Deidre asked.

Terri shrugged. "Well, it's not hostile, anyway, but I don't think we'd want to get it angry."

"Good safety tip," Deidre gasped.

After about a half hour of wandering, the friends came to the edge of a huge forest. Both recognized it from Hogwarts, A History as the Forbidden Forest. Terri knew she'd need to search for some of the plants, herbs, and other items she wanted to use for her doctoral project in this forest, and hoped she could make arrangements for Deidre to teach some of her morning Potions classes. First, of course, they'd have to receive the schedule from Professor McGonagall--and before that, Deidre would have to learn Potions, and how to use a wand at the bare minimum. And I can't help her with that, Terri realized, I'll probably have a ton of stuff to do to get ready for the school year...

"Oh, look." Deidre's words cut into her thoughts. Terri looked where Deidre pointed. A large, tall wooden hut stood right near the edge of the forest. Next to the hut sat two enormous piles of wood. One had already been processed into firewood, while the other was still a tangle of branches, trunks, and roots. Standing between the two piles, Hagrid worked with an axe turning unprocessed wood into processed wood. Just then, he looked up and saw the women approaching.

"Hullo, Miss Freedman...Professor Weasley." He grinned as he called Terri "Professor Weasley," and she felt a quick shiver of goosebumps. "Out fer a stroll?"

"Hi Hagrid. Yes, the weather's too nice to ignore." Terri returned his smile.

"Wow, where'd all that wood come from?" asked Deidre. Then she looked toward the forest and slapped her head. "Duh!"

Hagrid laughed. "Ye'd think so, aye? But ye'd be wrong this time." He gestured to the piles. "What ye see here is the remains o' the Triwizard Tournament's third challenge." He shuddered. "There were plans to waste most o' this wood in a huge bonfire, but I tol' 'em not to, that we could use it over the winter here." He smiled wryly, looking at the pile of wood he still had to work on. "An' now I'm payin' fer it."

Both women chuckled. Terri took a measuring look at the piles of wood. What had the third challenge involved that called for that much wood? "Can you tell us more about the Triwizard Tournament?" she asked.

"Sure. But not while I'm choppin' wood." He laid down his axe and wiped his brow. His shirt was drenched in sweat. Terri figured he must have gone to work right after she and Deidre had left with Professor McGonagall to take care of paperwork. "An' I've a few things to do in my garden before I leave later this week." He looked wistful for a moment, then glanced back at his visitors. "I wouldn't normally ask this o' visitors, but would ye mind comin' round back so I can do a bit of weed pullin' while we talk?"

"Of course," Deidre piped up. "I'll even help!"

Hagrid looked shocked. "I couldn't ask ye--"

"But you're not asking," she pointed out practically. "I'm offering."

Terri rolled her eyes. Trying to put the best face on it, she said, "I think you've just seen a demonstration of why everyone thinks folks from the States are pushy."

"You say that as if it was a bad thing!" exclaimed Deidre.

But Hagrid laughed. "If ye're goin' ter be pushy enough ter help me get my work done, I'm not one ter be complainin'!"

So it was that Hagrid, Deidre, and even Terri were down on their hands and knees in Hagrid's garden, pulling weeds while Hagrid expounded at length about the events of the last year. Hagrid seemed to enjoy the audience; Deidre gasped in all the right places, and Terri asked a number of thoughtful questions. The giant went on lovingly about the first challenge; when he spoke of the dragons, Terri could tell from his eyes that he was seeing them before him once again, and reluctant to let go of the image. "You really love dragons, don't you?" Terri observed.

Hagrid started, coming back to himself. "Aye," he said, and nodded. "They're the finest creatures I've ever seen." Shaking himself, he returned to his narrative, again lavishing detail when he reached the third challenge--with which, after all, he was intimately involved. "An' that," he said, squatting back on his haunches, "is when everything went wrong."

"I thought everyone knew something was up when Harry's name came out of the Goblet," Terri commented. She hadn't been sure whether to believe it when he'd said Harry Potter hadn't found a way to get his name in the Goblet of Fire, and still felt a bit skeptical. It was just the kind of thing a student who was full of himself would try to pull; and Harry Potter could easily be the sort who was full of himself. How many wizards, of any age, could claim to have defeated the greatest evil wizard for a century at the age of one? But Hagrid thought otherwise, and he did seem to know the boy well.

"Aye, we did," Hagrid said, nodding. "We had a lot of guesses, but nothing to go on. It was like--" he seemed to be groping for the right words. "Like pieces of a puzzle that don't fit together." He sighed. "Anyway, where was I?"

"When everything went wrong," Deidre supplied helpfully.

"Ah, that." Hagrid took out a handkerchief about the size of a small tablecloth and wiped his brow. "Well, mind me now, I'm not sure of everything that happened when Harry and Cedric reached the Triwizard Cup; they both grabbed it at the same time--and the Cup had been magicked to be a Portkey. It took them right to You-Know-Who himself."

"No!" gasped Deidre.

"Harry didn't want to talk about it afterwards; he told Professor Dumbledore what happened, and Dumbledore told us summat 'bout it in the speech at the Leaving Feast." He took a deep breath, as if it was an effort to continue. "You-Know-Who killed Cedric Diggory; he would have killed Harry, too, but the lad must've put up one hell of a fight. Harry came back, with one arm around the Cup and th' other around Diggory. Diggory's body." Hagrid wiped his brow again; Terri thought she saw him covertly wipe away a tear as well.

"But...how could Harry fight Vol-, I mean You-Know-Who?" asked Deidre.

"Harry's immune to the Avada Kedavra," said Terri, realization dawning on her face. "The Dark Lord couldn't kill him the usual way."

"Aye, and that's not all," said Hagrid, picking up the thread of his story. "I heard he's immune to the Imperio, too."

"Two out of the three Unforgivables can't affect him?" Terri looked impressed. "No wonder he's still alive."

"And so are far too many of these weeds!" grumped Deidre, pulling some more.

Hagrid laughed. Terri loved the sound of his laugh; it was a booming cry of joy that swept you up with it. "Ah, ye've done enough weed-pullin' fer one day. 'Sides," he said, looking around at his garden, "I could never have gotten this much done by myself in so little time. Now, how about some tea? It's the least I could do."

The women readily agreed. Hagrid washed his hands and face at the rainwater barrel, and bade his guests to do the same. Feeling a little bit cleaner, the three of them went inside Hagrid's hut, where he laid out cups and saucers and began brewing tea. "An' will ye be wantin' milk wit' yer tea? Miss Freedman? Professor?" Hagrid couldn't help grinning as he asked.

"Er, I think I want to be plain Terri Weasley a bit longer," Terri said. "Call me Terri if you have to call me anything."

"Oh! Sorry," said Hagrid. "I didn't mean--"

Terri held up a hand to stop him. "It's not you, it's me," she said. Hagrid gave her a baffled look. Great, how do I explain this? she wondered. Hagrid's story about the previous year had hit her hard. All through it she could see herself as a teacher at the school, and she wondered how she would have dealt with everything that had happened. Add that to the natural first-time jitters of a new job in a new field, and it was more than a bit overwhelming. "Hagrid," she began, "how long did you say you'd been teaching here?"

"Jus' finished my second year teaching," he said. "Why?"

"And you have one year teaching high school under your belt," Terri continued, turning to Deidre. "I'm...I'm really going to need your help. Advice. Anything." I was crazy to come here, hoping to get my doctoral project done. I should have said no as soon as I heard there would be teaching involved, Terri thought.

Hagrid gave her a look of concern. Deidre put one arm around her shoulders and squeezed. "Come on, Terri, you'll do fine," she said.

"I've never done this before. Teaching. Like this, I mean," Terri blurted. "Training, yes, teaching mini-classes, yes, but not--"

"Ye'll learn," Hagrid cut in. Just then the kettle boiled. Hagrid brought it to the table and added some tea to steep. "It's not easy, no, but ye'll learn. I did. I'm still learning. Professor Dumbledore would never have hired ye if he didn't think ye could do it. An' he's not an easy man to fool."

"I hope so," said Terri. "Hagrid--did you really use hippogriffs in your first lesson?"

Hagrid turned a bit red. "Who tol' ye that?"

"Professor McGonagall."

Hagrid sighed. "Yes, it's true. I wanted summat that would be interesting to the students."

Terri gave him a small smile. "Professor Dumbledore said that."

"Did he, now?" Hagrid checked the tea; deciding it had steeped long enough, he began pouring it for his guests. "I know ye're worried about the students, aye?" he asked as he filled her cup. At Terri's nod, he continued, "It's not so bad as ye may think. Most of the students actually want to learn. There's a few bad apples...but ye'll find that everywhere." After he filled both Terri's and Deidre's cups, he filled his own, which was somewhat larger.

Terri sipped her tea. It was strong and bitter, and cut through her moroseness like a knife. "Maybe you can warn me about the bad apples," she said to Hagrid.

Deidre frowned. "Uh-uh, Terri, don't go there. There's far too many self-fulfilling prophecies when it comes to teaching." At Terri's questioning look, she added, "If you expect a student to act a certain way, he'll pick up on it, and start acting that way."

Hagrid shrugged. "Maybe so, maybe not," he said. "But I can tell ye 'bout what ye'll see anyway, self-fulfilling prophecy or no." He paused to drink some tea, then continued. "Ye know about the House system here?" Terri nodded. "An' how each House was connected with a founder who valued certain virtues?" Another nod. "Well, that's a good predictor. More tea?" Both women shook their heads; the tea was hot enough they were drinking it very slowly. Hagrid continued. "The Hufflepuffs are a joy to have in class; they don't make any trouble, and they're always careful about their assignments. The Ravenclaws, now, they're a mixed blessing. Always on top of their work, mind, but they'll keep ye on yer toes; they ask a ton of questions. Now House Slytherin..." Hagrid pulled a faces if he'd just bit into a lemon. "Aye, that's where a lot of yer bad apples are from. You-Know-Who was from Slytherin."

"Was Professor Snape from Slytherin?" Deidre asked

"Aye," Hagrid said. "He's head of House Slytherin; there's a rule that ye can't be head of a House unless you graduated from that house."

"Oh. Good!" Terri took another sip of tea. When Hagrid had first said that Snape was head of Slytherin, she feared for an instant that she's have to take over those responsibilities as well. She was relieved to hear otherwise.

"It's an informal rule, mind," Hagrid continued. "It's something about `exemplifyin' the qualities of the House.'"

"What house were you in, Hagrid?" Deidre asked.

Hagrid puffed up with pride. "I was in Gryffindor. Now there's a House that can leave ye throwin' up yer hands." Hagrid wore the same look of amused resignation Terri had seen on Professor Flitwick's face yesterday.

"But I thought the bad apples were from Slytherin," Terri asked, reaching for the tea kettle. Hagrid beat her to it, and refilled her cup.

"Aye, they are," Hagrid said. "The students in Gryffindor aren't bad apples. But Godric Gryffindor chose for bravery. Which means that students in that house like to--well. Test the limits. They're not really bad, mind, but sometimes, when you tell them something is dangerous, that just makes them want to do it all the more."

Terri rolled her eyes. "Oh boy. Maybe I'd better tell them it's dangerous NOT to blow up my lab."

Hagrid and Deidre laughed. Deidre caught a glimpse of Hagrid's wall clock and abruptly stopped laughing. "Is that the time? Oh my Goddess! We've got to get back to the castle and get changed; Arthur's meeting us."

"What about a shower?" asked Terri, then looked at the wall clock herself. It said a quarter to five; there was no time for a shower. After a morning spend doing a potions practical and an afternoon spent weed-pulling, she badly needed a shower. This is NOT the way to meet my British relations, Terri thought unhappily.

"No time," Deidre confirmed. "But maybe--er, Hagrid, can we use your rain barrel?" she asked, flushing pink.

"Eh--" Hagrid started, but Terri cut in.

"Never mind, Hagrid; I remember a charm that'll do the trick," she said. "Will you walk us back to the castle and see us off?"

"Gladly," said Hagrid. As they left the hut, he held his shirt away from his body, wrinkled his nose, and said, "Wouldn't mind it if yeh used that charm on me, either."

"Yes you would!" Terri insisted, a bit too emphatically. At Deidre and Hagrid's confused looks, she explained, "it has to be done on naked flesh to work right." Not that I'd mind seeing his naked flesh, but... Terri quickly banished the thought as she saw the groundskeeper slowly turning red.

They quickly crossed the grounds to the castle; when they opened the door, they spotted Professor McGonagall, with a worried look on her face. "There you are!" she exclaimed. "Mr. Weasley is almost due; I was about to send Dobby to look for you."

"I'm sorry, Professor; we were helping Hagrid and lost track of time," said Terri.

But Hagrid shook his head. "No, it's my fault, Professor McGonagall; I shouldna kept 'em so long, tellin' stories."

Professor McGonagall looked from Terri to Hagrid and finally to Deidre. "Hey, don't blame me," she said. "It was my idea to help, but I'm the one who realized how late it was!"

The Transfiguration professor wrinkled her nose; she seemed to notice their condition for the first time. "You'd best get cleaned up, then," she said, "and fast--you won't want to keep your cousins waiting any longer than you have to! Your luggage is already in the Great Hall."

Without another word, Terri and Deidre hurried into the hall; their luggage was near the large fireplace. The women grabbed some clean clothes from their respective trunks...then hesitated.

"If you have the right charm, let's use it," said Deidre, "but, er, I feel a little exposed here."

"Me too." Terri took a quick look around the room and found a door. "Let's try there."

"Wait! Is it safe?" Deidre shouted after her. By then Terri had the door open and was gesturing to Deidre to follow. She shrugged and joined her friend.

"I bet this is where the first years wait to be Sorted," said Terri when Deidre joined her. It was an empty room, large enough to hold about sixty or eighty first year students if they stood close together. Both women stripped down to their skin. As Terri bent to pick up her wand, which she'd placed on top of her clothing, Deidre screamed.

"I'm not that ugly," Terri muttered. Then she noticed that Deidre was desperately trying to cover certain parts of her anatomy while pointing to something right behind Terri. She turned--and gasped.

It was not surprising to see ghosts at Hogwarts, unless you were so involved in what you were doing that you forgot they were there. This particular one was dressed in the style of Elizabeth I's reign, from his handsome feathered hat to his chunky heeled shoes. He appeared to be as astonished as they were. "Oh...my," he managed to get out, and turned his face away. "I am so sorry for intruding, ladies. I'd lend you my cloak for covering, but I fear that wouldn't help."

"Er...just a minute." Taking a deep breath, Terri turned back to her living companion and prayed that the spell hadn't just been driven out of her mind. "Pur, purg, er--aha! Purgare cutis!"

A warm wind blew from the wand, surrounded Deidre for a moment, and left her clean. "Much faster than a shower!" Deidre exclaimed. Hastily, the late-blooming witch threw on the clean clothing she'd brought with her.

The ghost chuckled, still facing away. "Oh, I can think of times I could have used a spell like that. I do believe I would have stopped bathing."

"No you wouldn't," Deidre commented, rubbing her hands and face as Terri cast the charm on herself. "Sheesh, my skin is dry!"

"That's why I prefer showers," Terri said, pulling on a pair of jeans over a red short-sleeved shirt. She topped it off with a blue blazer. It wasn't ideal, perhaps, but it was as formal as she could get, given what she'd brought with her. She cleaned her own and Deidre's dirty clothes with the related charm for clothing, then turned back to the ghost. "Okay, show's over." As the ghost turned back around, she continued, "Might I ask to whom I have had the dubious honor of exposing myself?"

"Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, at your service," said the ghost, stifling a chuckle. He made a deep bow, almost losing his head in the process.

"Nearly-Headless Nick!" cried Deidre. "I read all about you in Hogwarts, a History!" Turning to Terri, she added, "He's the resident ghost for Gryffindor Tower, where we slept."

The ghost had made a face at Deidre's calling him "Nearly-Headless Nick," but recovered when she finished speaking. "So you two must be Terri Weasley and Deidre Freedman," he said. "The other ghosts have been buzzing about you two. Especially after you startled Peeves as you did yesterday, Miss Weasley! That was priceless! I wish I had seen his face..."

"Guess what? It's Professor Weasley now," Deidre chimed in.

"Really? Congratulations!" exclaimed Nearly Headless Nick, while Terri blushed. He held out his hand to Terri for her to shake. Hesitantly, she reached for it. She touched nothing solid, but her whole arm felt as if it had been abruptly dunked into a bucket of ice water. At her gasp, Nick apologized. "Sometimes I forget that not everyone is used to dealing with ghosts," he explained.

"Quite all right," Terri replied shakily. Just then someone knocked on the door.

"Oy, Terri! Mr. Weasley's here!" Hagrid boomed from the other side of the door. Terri and Deidre bade their good-bys to Nick, who bowed in response.

Along with Hagrid and Mr. Weasley, Professor Dumbledore, holding a good-sized flowerpot, Professor Snape, holding a book, and Professor McGonagall were there to see her off.

"I'll have your schedule ready by the first week of August, Professor," said McGonagall, looking at Terri...and Terri had to remind herself that yes, she was speaking to her. It still felt weird, as if the title didn't quite fit. "And...well, your status as a doctoral candidate and a professor puts you in an unusual position, as I have said. So I neglected to mention this before: you will be Sorted at the beginning of the term, after the first year students." Was it Terri's imagination, or had McGonagall actually given her a smile for reassurance? "If you have any questions, please send me an owl. I'm looking forward to seeing you teach next term." With that, the professor shook Terri's and Deidre's hands and excused herself; as deputy headmistress, she had a great deal to do in the time leading up to September 1.

Before Terri had time to digest this information (I'm going to be SORTED?!), Hagrid had already stepped forward to shake her hand. Or, rather, her whole arm. "Don' know if I'll be back right at the start of the term," he said, "but I'll see yeh whenever I get back jus' the same. And thanks fer your help wi' the garden! 'n fact, I bes' be gettin' back ter work there meself..." He shook Deidre's arm as well, then left the Great Hall.

Professor Dumbledore nudged Snape. Frowning, the potions master stepped forward and held out the book to Terri. "I'm going to demonstrate this for you...in case something happens to me, and the headmaster is unavailable." Terri held the book and looked at it. It was the same book Snape had reached for when he first interviewed her: a small red hardback with gold lettering. The title was A Field Guide to Rare and Unusual Plants and Animals, With Observations on Their Uses. Snape opened the book on her hand and held one finger at the top of the pages, letting them slide quickly by.

"Things are not always what they appear to be," said Dumbledore. Arthur cleared his throat. Terri noticed him for the first time; he seemed to be watching the proceedings with--worry? Anticipation? She wasn't sure.

Snape closed the book again and placed his hand on top of it. "Storyteller," he said. The book did not appear, outwardly, to have changed--but when he opened it, Terri saw a small cassette recorder inside. "A part of the book swaps places with this--device--when I, and only I, hold the book and speak the trigger word." Snape frowned. "I would have preferred to use a magical recording device, but Professor Dumbledore believed that would make the--deceit--more detectable."

"Muggle devices don't register as magical, especially to those who are sensitive to such things," said Arthur with a smile.

Terri looked at Snape in bafflement. "Why are you showing this to me?" she asked.

"The spot where the book pages and...tape recorder, I believe it is called...trade places is located in my office," the professor explained. "Once the term commences, you will have the duty of extracting tapes from the recorder, replacing them with fresh tapes, and getting the tapes to Dumbledore."

"And replacing the batteries, no doubt," said Terri, looking at the recorder. Snape looked blank for a moment, then his eyes widened slightly and he nodded, as if he had just remembered a set of instructions he'd read.

This must be part of the "sabbatical" he's going on, thought Terri. It had to be a spy mission, but whom would he be spying on? Surely not Lord Voldemort himself!

But Terri simply nodded and passed the book back to Snape. "You have my word these things will be done," she said seriously. Snape returned the nod, and left.

"Right cheerful sort, isn't he?" Deidre observed.

"Deidre!" Terri exclaimed. Did she have to talk like that in front of the headmaster?

"Professor Snape is like a river, Miss Freedman; you only see the surface, and cannot guess what goes on underneath. You and Professor Weasley would be wise to remember that." As if that concluded the matter, Dumbledore turned to Arthur, and handed over the flowerpot. "A little something to help you travel, Arthur," he said. "And I can get you more if you need it."

Arthur took the flowerpot and raised its lid. His eyes widened. "This is filled to the brim with Floo Powder!" He looked at the older wizard. "Albus, you know I can't accept this!"

"What, are you backing out of our safe house plan so soon?" responded the professor, eyes twinkling behind his glasses.

Arthur's face cleared. "Oh," he said. "No, of course not. I just hadn't realized..." He glanced back down at the container full of Floo Powder. "Are there many other safe houses?"

"You'll find out soon enough - I'm putting you in charhe of the safe house network. We just gained a new one in the States this week--in Muggle territory." Dumbledore smiled and nodded at Terri. Arthur smiled in response. So that's what he'll use my apartment for, she thought.

"Right," said Arthur. "Well, ladies, gather your luggage, we'll be traveling to my home by Floo Powder," he said. As they each grabbed their two items of luggage, Arthur cast a charm to start a fire in the fireplace. "Now, have you used Floo Powder before?"

"I have," said Terri, "but Deidre hasn't." Deidre's puzzled expression quickly confirmed her statement.

"Well, then, Terri, you can go first," said Arthur, holding out the flowerpot. "My home is called The Burrow. You'll show up in the living room, but don't worry; we'll be right behind you."

Professor Dumbledore gave his newest staff member a small bow; Terri smiled and nodded in return. She took a pinch of Floo Powder and tossed it into the fire. Once the flames turned emerald green, she took a deep breath, closed her eyes, stepped in, and shouted "The Burrow!"

Immediately she felt herself begin spinning rapidly. She swallowed hard, slowed her breathing, and hoped that the Weasleys didn't live too far from Hogwarts on the wizard fire network. I'm glad I didn't have anything to eat with my tea at Hagrid's, she thought. After what seemed like too long, she felt her feet hit solid stone. She stumbled forward, caught herself, coughed, and opened her eyes. Damn, I forgot about the soot part... She stepped off the fireplace, luggage in hand, and put on what she hoped was a winning smile. "Hi, I'm Terri Weasley," she said.

The living room was small but cozy, with a well-worn sofa, a couple of overstuffed chairs, and a large braided rug on the floor. She recognized everyone from the pictures Arthur had shown her. There was Arthur's wife, Molly, a short, round woman with red hair and a very kind face, wearing a green robe and--good heavens!--a spotless white apron, trimmed with lace. That's a guest apron; she dressed up for this! Molly returned her smile and stepped forward to shake her hand.

"I'm Molly Weasley, dear," she said. "Welcome to the Burrow!" She said it in the same dubious way that four of Terri's friends, who rented a large house near Rutgers, said "Welcome to the madhouse!" Given the size of her family, Terri didn't doubt that Molly said it that way for the same reason.

Just then Deidre arrived, somewhat less gracefully than Terri had managed. She didn't--quite--fall. "What a trip!" she exclaimed.

"And you must be Deidre Freedman," said Molly, rising to the occasion. She reintroduced herself and shook Deidre's hand; as she did, she moved the other woman out of the way for her husband's arrival.

Arthur, of course, landed smoothly on his feet. He stepped forward and kissed his wife--the usual type of peck on the lips that long-time married couples give each other for hello and good-by. Then he passed her the flowerpot and turned to his guests. "All right, Terri? Miss Freedman?"

"Please, call me Deidre," Deidre corrected, and managed a smile despite being a bit green in the face.

"Good. Let me introduce you to the rest of the family, then," he said. As each of his children stepped forward to shake hands with Terri and Deidre, Arthur made introductions. Bill, the oldest, stepped forward first; he took after his father, tall and lanky, with red hair so long and gorgeous that Terri would have been instantly jealous if he wasn't so good-looking. He wore a Weird Sisters in concert tunic, sturdy-looking black jeans, dragonhide boots, and a silver stud earring. His younger brother, Charlie, clearly took after his mother's side of the family. His weather-beaten, freckled face held a ready grin, and Terri felt calluses as he gave her a strong handshake. Percy, in a black robe, looked very straight-laced; his smile was perfectly proper, and he shook Terri's hand rigidly but moved it just the right amount up and down.

"Say now, you're still looking a bit queazy!" For a moment, Terri thought she was seeing double--then she remembered the twins, Fred and George. She couldn't tell which one was speaking; he was holding out a plate of what appeared to be chocolate chip cookies toward her. "Have one! Go on, they're great for a ticklish stomach!"

"We baked them ourselves," said the other one proudly.

"George--" Molly said, a warning tone in her voice. But by this time both Terri and Deidre had bitten into one of the cookies. It was sweet, and there was even a touch of mint, which Terri knew was good for settling stomachs...but there was a strange soapy aftertaste.

"It's very good, but--" Terri cut her speech short. To her horror, soap bubbles were coming out of her mouth with every word!

But that wasn't even the worst of it. As the twins doubled over in laughter, and Molly looked like she was about to explode, Deidre said, bubbling at every word, "I have this sudden urge to sing! Hey Terri, do you want to sing?"

"No--" Terri gasped, but she knew it was a losing battle. She really didn't want to get so undignified in front of her British cousins! Dang, they put a compulsion on the cookies! As she fought the urge, Deidre succumbed.

"Alas, dear twins, you have done us wrong,
For forcing us to break out in song..."

Deidre nodded at Terri to finish the song--and gave her a wink.

A slow smile came to Terri's face. They did ask for it, didn't they?

"Because, you see, we sing quite off-key
And we don't know the lyrics to Greensleeves!"

she finished.

"That does it!" shouted Molly. "Fred, George, I want to see you in the kitchen--NOW!"

"NO!" cried Deidre. "This is THEIR fault; let them suffer through it all--with front row seats, right there on the couch. So lads, just sit right back..." she immediately segued into the theme from "Gilligan's Island," and Terri joined in. The twins were still laughing, but not quite so hard.

"Boys, how long does the effect last?" asked Arthur, sotto voce.

"Er, about ten minutes...we think," one of the twins replied.

"`Banned from Argo?'" asked Deidre.

"No!" Terri replied. "They wouldn't get it. How about `Carmen Miranda's Ghost?'"

"Good choice!"

The two women launched into one of their favorite songs by Leslie Fish. It had a nice Spanish rhythm to it, which made it great for dancing to as well as singing--which looked quite strange, since the bubbles continued to pour from Terri and Deidre's mouths. By the end of the song, Terri almost regretted not having maracas with her.

Carmen Miranda's ghost is haunting Space Station Three.
Half the staff has seen her, plus the portmaster and me.
And if you think we've had too much of Cookie's homemade rum,
Just tell me where those basket hats of fruit keep coming from?

Don't go down the cargo-bay when there's no ship in dock.
You just might hear maracas clack and get a nasty shock.
And if you hear a rhumba beat, don't pass the messroom door;
You just might see a tangerine come rolling down the floor.

We sometimes catch a glimpse of her by station night or day.
But when we try to catch her, she just laughs and fades away.
The station's chief headshrinker takes his notes and fills his cup.
We get rotated often, but she still keeps showing up.

We don't know why we're haunted here, or why it's her that haunts.
We've got a betting pool for all who wonder what she wants.
The best odds say she likes the rhythm of the station's drive;
They didn't have phase generators while she was alive.

Carmen Miranda's ghost is haunting Space Station Three.
Not that we're complaining, since the fresh fruit all comes free.
But now and then we wonder what it means for the human race
That ghosts of generations past are taking off for space.

Terri tried not to think about the variety of looks they were getting from the rest of Weasleys; they seemed to vary from angry to frigid to amused to mortified. The important thing was the looks they were getting from Fred and George...and they almost looked like they didn't think their prank was quite so funny anymore.

"`Shrink Wrap Blues' next?" asked Deidre.

"By Gary McGath? Why not? It's got a great singalong chorus!" Staring hard at the twins, Terri added, "You WILL sing along, right?" They swallowed and nodded as the two ladies plunged right in to the upbeat blues.

Oh I got a new computer game called "Journey Through Hell,"
The catalog convinced me that it had to be swell,
With weapons supernatural at your control,
And graphics so spectacular they're worth your soul.
I ripped the package open but was filled with dread,
For words made out of fire on the envelope said:

By opening this envelope you have agreed
If you can win the game, then you'll be freed,
But if you never beat it then your soul is mine!
Signed, Lord of the Flies and King of the Swine.

Terri did an evil laugh in a pause right after the word "Flies," and Deidre shouted at the twins, "That's YOUR part!" Then they continued, breaking for the chorus at the end of each verse.

I went back to the dealer in a terrible huff,
But he just grinned and said to me, "That's really tough,"
And told me that the package that contained the disk
Said consequential damages were my own risk.
So I'd better start in playing, every chance I got,
Or I'd end up at the address where it's always hot.

"Muggle Techie part, folks," exclaimed Deidre, as they went into the next verse.

I tried to use ResEdit to discover some tricks,
And found a resource labeled "EVIL" six sixty-six.
But when I double-clicked it I screamed angrily;
The system said "Bus error at D-E-A-D."
The only thing to do was reboot it, and then,
The start-up screen displayed the words "Don't do that again."

Now I'm at level forty in this devil's maze,
I'm afraid that I'll be at it till the end of my days,
And then I'll spend eternity in Satan's pits,
But I'm damned if I'll give up the game and call it quits.
My one hope for salvation lies, beyond a doubt,
In Holy Justice throwing shrink wrap licenses out.

By the end of the song, the twins were not only singing along on the choruses, but improvising...and Terri strongly suspected she heard more than two voices singing along with them. "I think they enjoyed that one too much, Deidre," she said.

"Then I've got the perfect torture!" And without further ado, she launched into the US national anthem. Terri laughed and joined in. Both sang loudly in the key of "Off" -- and two different keys of "Off," at that. Sure enough, by the second measure, the twins were flinching. By the time the cookies wore off, somewhere around "Whose broad stripes and bright stars," they'd curled up into balls with their hands over their ears. Terri sighed in relief. Deidre, on the other hand, smiled wickedly--and began bowing.

Someone laughed. "Oh, good show!" exclaimed Charlie, and he began to clap. Bill smiled, and joined the applause. Percy still looked utterly mortified; he gave his twin brothers a stone-faced glare. Terri had not met the two youngest siblings yet. The girl, who had been watching the whole performance wide-eyed, fought back a giggle and lost. The boy--hard to think of someone that tall as just a boy--had turned bright red while the performance was going on, and tried not to watch. But as it dawned on him that the women actually wanted to be watched--at least by his twin brothers, to pay them back--he managed a wry grin. He also applauded at the end, though he had to remove his hands from his ears to do so.

Terri smiled. A quick glance at Molly told her that the woman had been only partly mollified. "And now, Fred and George," said Terri, "I believe it's time for you to pay for the show."

"It most certainly is," said Molly. Looking very guilty indeed, the twins rose from the couch and followed their mum into the kitchen. In recognition of their guests, she was not shouting--but Terri could clearly hear her savage whispering.

"Er, can I get you anything to drink?" asked Arthur awkwardly. "A spot of tea, perhaps?"

"Tea would be lovely, thanks," said Terri. Deidre nodded her agreement.

"Right then, I'll be right back," said Arthur, as he, too, disappeared into the kitchen.

Deidre and Terri settled onto the couch. "I guess you two are Ron and Ginny," said Terri, looking over at the two remaining unintroduced Weasleys. Ron started, then walked forward to shake hands. Ginny got up from one of the chairs to do the same.

Percy was still frowning. "I really must apologize for my brothers," he said to the two women. "We certainly never meant for their immature pranks to spoil your visit!"

Deidre leaned back comfortably on the couch. "If they're trying to spoil our visit, they'll have to try harder," she commented.

"You mean you're not mad at them?" asked Ron, genuinely surprised.

"I'm mad at them," said Terri. "Why do you think we put on that performance?"

Deidre nodded. "If your brothers thought to embarrass us, they made a serious miscalculation. We're shameless."

"You're shameless," Terri corrected. Turning back to Ron, she asked, "Do they do that to everyone?"

"Er, yes, actually," Ron confessed. His ears were turning pink again.

"Really? Oh, well, that's all right then," said Deidre with a dismissive wave of her hand.

Terri turned to Deidre. "All right? What do you mean?"

"Well, if it was just us, that would be one thing," Deidre explained. "But since they do it to everyone--why, they were just treating us like members of the family! We should feel downright welcome after that."

Terri put her hand to her forehead and shook her head. "Ditz-logicked again," she muttered, so softly that only Deidre heard. The late-bloomer grinned. Terri and Deidre had a running joke between them, a play on the "nicknames" they'd been given in college. Ditsy Deidre specialized in "ditz logic," which went off at a sharp angle from regular logic, but made its own kind of sense. On the few occasions that Terri went out drinking with Deidre, she could tell immediately when she'd had too much; it was when Deidre's "ditz logic" started making sense without her having to think about it first.

Just then Arthur reappeared, holding a small tray with two cups of tea. "We'll have more with dinner," he said, putting it down on the polished wood coffee table. Then he slapped his head. "Oh, but I'm forgetting my manners! Ginny, would you show Terri and Deidre where they can put their luggage? Bill, Charlie, please set up the tables outside; your mum wants to take advantage of the nice weather."

Terri and Deidre gathered up their luggage and gestured for Ginny to lead the way.

"I'll set up the dishes and silverware, Dad," said Percy, dashing into the kitchen as his two older brothers went outside. "Ron, come give me a hand."

"Er, in a minute," said Ron, going over to Deidre. "I think our guests need a little help with their luggage."

"Good lads," said Arthur.

Ron managed Terri's suitcase in one hand and Deidre's in the other, leaving both women with just their tote bags. As they reached the first landing of the narrow old stairs, Ron said, "Don't tell Dad, but I'd rather haul luggage up stairs than get ordered around by Percy any day."

Ginny groaned. "Ron, that wasn't very nice--" she said, but Terri snickered, and Deidre outright laughed.

"I have an older brother...they do have a talent for that, don't they?" said Deidre.

"Percy thinks he does," sighed Ron.

They arrived at the third landing, where they came to a door with a flowery plaque that said "Virginia's Room." She opened the door, and Terri, Deidre, and Ron followed her inside. The pale pink walls were decorated with dancing boys dressed in black and silver; as Terri got a better look at the posters, she saw that most of them depicted the boy band "Spiderweb." Ginny's window looked out onto the back yard. Under the window, her dresser was piled with textbooks; an ink bottle, quills, and parchment indicated that it did double duty as a desk. To the right, by Ginny's closet, was a lavender-colored fishing-tackle style box; bright pink letters said "Majestra's Magic Mood Make-up." On the same wall as the door, Terri noticed a small bookcase. She caught a glimpse of several paperback books, all apparently in the "Young Witches' Romance Series," as well as a number of others she couldn't make out clearly.

Two cots were in the room--one at the foot of Ginny's bed, and one next to the bed. Ron laid one piece of luggage next to each of the cots. "Oi, Ginny, where did you get that picture?" he said, pointing to her nightstand. He had a funny smile on his face, as if he'd caught her in something.

"Colin Creevy took it," she said, a bit defensively.

Terri looked at the framed photograph. It showed a boy wearing scarlet robes, flying on a broom. Like all wizard photos, this one was moving. The boy--he couldn't have been more than 14--was smiling, with bright green eyes twinkling behind black horn-rimmed glasses. He leaned into the wind, which blew at his robes and mussed up his dark hair. As it blew his bangs out of his face, Terri made out a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead, and suddenly realized who she was looking at.

"That's Harry Potter!" she exclaimed.

"Ginny's sweet on him," said Ron in a stage whisper.

"Ron!" Ginny groaned. Ron hastily exited the room, followed by Terri, Deidre, and Ginny. When they made it down the stairs, they saw that Fred and George were back in the living room, looking suitably ashamed of themselves. Arthur gave them a stern look as the four arrived in the living room; he turned to Terri and Deidre and said, "The twins have something they'd like to say to you."

"Really?" asked Terri. She turned to the twins expectantly.

"We're sorry," said Fred glumly.

"Very sorry," put in George.

"We'll never do it again," said Fred.

"It was very immature of us," continued George.

"Very," agreed Fred. "We know we can't really make it up to you, but if there's anything we can do--"

"There is, actually," Terri said, cutting short their painful litany. It was probably forced and rehearsed, anyway, she thought, and the looks she got from the twins--surprise and...was that gratitude?--seemed to confirm this. "I need a native guide or two for some errands tomorrow. I have to open an account at Gringott's, and see about getting my wand repaired."

"We could help you with that!" said George eagerly.

"Sure, they're both on Diagon Alley," Fred said, nodding, "I mean, Gringott's is, and so is Olivander's, we got all our wands there...and there's a wicked good ice cream parlor there--"

"Or Bill could take you," Arthur commented. "He's a curse breaker at Gringott's; he could take you when he goes into work tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Deidre asked. "But tomorrow's July 4th!"

Terri rolled her eyes. "Deidre, July 4th is just like any other day here, remember?"

Deidre's face fell. "Oh, yeah, right," she sighed. Then she managed a weak smile for her hosts. "Sorry about that. It's such a big deal at home, you know," she said, turning pink.

"Independence Day? Yes, I imagine it would be," said Arthur. He gave her a sympathetic look. "Well, maybe we can have some kind of little celebration here."

Terri looked wistful. "That would be nice." She looked at Deidre, and realized they were both thinking the same thing; but Terri said it first. "It won't be quite the same without fireworks, but it'll be pretty special anyway."

"Yeah." Deidre smiled. "Diagon Alley, huh? A wizard shopping area? Hey, when you've got shopping, who needs fireworks?!" But Terri could tell that, shopaholic that Deidre was, she really would miss the bright night time show that was a staple of Independence Day in the US.

Neither woman noticed the way Fred and George's faces lit up at the mention of fireworks.

Very shortly, the entire Weasley family and their two guests were outside enjoying Mrs. Weasley's excellent home cooking. Deidre had brought her tote bag with her; she meant to get in some stitching on her embroidery after dinner while the light was still good. Ginny asked to see it; when she saw what it was, she asked her brother Charlie to identify it. "That's a Common Welsh Green," he said, frowning. "Not to scale, but nicely done." Deidre's eyes nearly popped out of her head -- and the two of them spent most of the rest of the meal animatedly talking dragons.

Terri's interests were somewhat different. "So you're a curse breaker?" she asked Bill. "Is it hard?"

"Tricky, mainly," he said, pausing to swallow a bite of his roll. "There's the matter of interpreting the curse, of course...and you have to put yourself into the head of whoever cast it in the first place...but I'd probably bore you if I went into the gory details," he concluded, clearly speaking from long experience.

"Not at all," Terri contradicted. She took a sip of pumpkin juice, and continued. "With my doctoral project, I'm approaching it from the other end -- trying to prevent curses from sticking. So I'd be very interested to hear about your techniques."

"Really?" asked Bill. Terri nodded. "Well, there are certain things I can't disclose -- trade secrets, you understand..."

"Gringotts made you sign an NDA, right?" Terri asked.

Bill laughed. "It's not quite that bad, you know; it's the only wizard bank in the world, so there's not that kind of competition to worry about." His eyes glinted mischievously. "But some of the things I could tell you --"

"Would scare the wrappings right off a mummy?" Terri giggled at Bill's startled look. "Sorry, it's just natural to think of Egypt when you think of curses that need breaking."

"That's where I work, most of the time," Bill said. "Are you sure you want to hear about this?"

"Positive." And for the rest of the main course, they traded notes, almost without interruption.

Mrs. Weasley had created a simple fruit sherbert for dessert, which she prepared to bring out while the dinner dishes were cleared. She wouldn't let either Terri or Deidre help clear away the dishes, despite their offers to help. As Ron collected Terri's dishes, he said, "Dad told us that you were applying to teach at Hogwarts; he said it was part of some project you're doing there."

"Sort of," said Terri.

"`Sort of'?"

"Well, close enough." Terri shrugged.

Ron moved around to collect other dishes, but kept talking to her. "So, do you know if you got the job?"

"Yes," said Terri.

"Yes you know or yes you got the job?" asked Ron.

"Ron, dear, watch how high that stack is getting," called Mrs. Weasley.

"Yes to both of those," Terri replied to Ron.

"Really?" Ron gave her another look. "So... you're our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" he asked. Terri thought she detected some apprehension in his voice...and given what Gavin told her about Hogwarts DADA teachers, she couldn't blame him.

"Ron, that stack--" Mrs. Weasley warned again.

"Heavens, no," she replied to Ron with a laugh. "I'm not that suicidal. No, I'm your new Potions teacher."

Ron's jaw dropped. The stack of dishes and bowls, which reached all the way to his chin, clattered loudly to the ground. "Ron!" Mrs. Weasley shouted, but Ron didn't hear her. Instead, he gave a loud whoop.

"No Snape! Cor blimey, wait'll I tell Harry!" He started to dash off, as if to send his friend an owl right away, but was stopped by a huge stack of dishes floating in front of him -- the same stack he had dropped. He looked over at his mum, who was pointing her wand directly at the stack. With a look of apology, he grasped the pile of floating dishes and carried them into the house.

Deidre laughed. "Not exactly one of the most popular professors, is he?" she said, digging her spoon into the sherbert.

"He's absolutely horrid!" exclaimed Ginny. "He took ten points off Gryffindor and gave Colin Creevy a detention because he was one teaspoon short on fish scales for a Speedy Swimming potion. And the way he treats Neville Longbottom...!" She shuddered.

Terri put her spoon down and shook her head in disbelief. "That IS way too strict," she said. Taking in both Ginny and a blank-looking Deidre with her gaze, she explained. "A Speedy Swimming potion requires ten teaspoons of fish scales. If you're one teaspoon short, the color will be off -- pretty dramatically, for a wonder -- but the only real problem will be that the potion either doesn't last quite as long, or that whoever drinks it won't be able to swim quite as fast as if you'd remembered that extra teaspoon...depending on how long you boil the potion, of course," she finished.

Ginny looked surprised. "He didn't explain that! He just...held up a spoonful of Colin's potion, and showed us it was a bright blue instead of dark green, and said something about Colin not paying attention--" she looked down, and her cheeks started turning pink. "I suppose that doesn't sound like much, but the WAY he did it--"

"I quite understand," Terri put in quickly. "He was one of the professors who interviewed me."

Mrs. Weasley tutted as she finished serving the sherbert and Ron returned from the kitchen. As she settled down to enjoy her own dessert, she said, "He may be strict, but it's important to get your potions right. Little things can make they go awry."

"Oh mum, we know that," insisted Fred. Dropping his spoon into his already-empty dessert dish, he turned to her and said, "But there's strict and then there's Snape. Professor McGonagall is
strict, but she's fair. Snape's just nasty."

"And he plays favorites," added George, pausing as he raised another spoonful of sherbert to his lips. "He's always taking points from Gryffindor and giving points to Slytherin, for no good reason. He's head of Slytherin." George directed the last sentence to Terri, by way of explaining.

"We spend half the summer coming up with new stunts to play on him," Fred said with a grin.

Terri and Ron started speaking at once, then both gestured for the other one to go first. They both laughed, but Terri insisted that Ron speak first.

Ron looked very uncomfortable. "Er, well, I was just thinking," he began. "With Snape gone--"

"Professor Snape," Mrs. Weasley corrected.

"Yeah, him," Ron continued. "Well, with him gone...does that mean you're going to be head of Slytherin?"

Several worried faces looked at Terri. "Blimey, I hadn't thought of that," said George.

"Of course it doesn't!" Mrs. Weasley laughed and turned to her husband. "Arthur, you remember Professor Bones, don't you?"

"Of course, love," he said, smiling and holding her hand. "He was the potions master before Professor Snape," he explained. "And head of Hufflepuff."

Four faces looked eminently relieved. Hating herself for having to break their hearts -- especially Ron's, since he'd been so happy about it -- Terri explained the terms of her contract, emphasizing that Snape would be back for one week out of every month to check up on her and her students' progress. "And since I'm a student teacher, I'm going to be Sorted," she finished.

"Whoa, you get to fight a troll!" Fred exclaimed.

"Fred!" Mrs. Weasley glared at her son.

Terri laughed. "Nice try, but I already know about the Sorting Hat," she said, and Fred's face fell. "Besides," she shrugged, "that's nothing compared to what you have to do to get into the Salem Witches' Institute."

"Really?" asked Fred. He seemed skeptical but eager to hear more.

"Really," said Terri. She winked at Mrs. Weasley, who gave her a small smile in return. "I'd tell you, but we're all sworn to secrecy. The Ministry of Magic doesn't even know about it." And never mind that I never went to the Salem Witches' Institute, she thought. This brought Gavin to mind; she hoped he was succeeding at whatever he'd said was keeping him busy.

After the tables were cleared, a brief discussion ensued over how Terri and Deidre were getting to Diagon Alley, and who was taking them. The twins insisted that they should go, because Terri had specifically requested them as native guides to make up for their practical joke earlier; but Mrs. Weasley was still angry with them, and felt they were getting off too lightly. She wanted them to stay home and de-gnome the garden, among other chores. Terri offered up a compromise: the twins could be their guides until after lunch, then she'd send them home and take another guide in exchange. Ron promptly volunteered.

"You'll have to use Floo Powder -- Deidre doesn't Apparate," said Mr. Weasley to Bill as they settled down on some patio furniture to enjoy the slowly-cooling evening.

"Not yet, anyway," Deidre commented, looking up from her embroidery.

"Actually," said Bill, "I finished refurbishing that old motorcycle you had out behind the shed. I was going to take it into work tomorrow anyway."

"Will that take all of us?" Terri asked. She'd never heard of a motorcycle that could carry five people before.

"It'll take three of us -- I added a sidecar," Bill explained. "But you'll be a bit in Gringott's anyway, so Fred and George can travel by Floo Powder and meet you later." The twins, who had of course been listening, promptly high-fived each other, glad that they wouldn't have to spend the whole day doing chores.

"Bill, that motorcycle doesn't..." Mrs. Weasley began.

"Doesn't what?" asked Bill, raising his eyebrows.

"Motorcycles are Muggle items," she said sternly. "I have enough problems with your father taking apart the stuff he gets from raids and--"

"Now, Molly, I've told you before, that's to get a better understanding of--"

"Of what?" Mrs. Weasley shot back to her husband. "Of how you can add magic to them?"

Bill rolled his eyes; clearly, he'd heard this argument before. "Mum, you know me better than that," he said. "Do you really think I'd add magic to a motorcycle? With Dad as head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department? Give me credit for some sense, at least!"

Mrs. Weasley looked mollified. Her expression softened, and she said, "Of course not, dear; I'm sorry for doubting you." She gave Mr. Weasley a look that clearly said "You could learn something from your son."

But Terri noticed that Bill had not actually come out and said that he hadn't added magic to the motorcycle. She gave Bill a questioning, skeptical look; he replied with an all-too-innocent "Who, me?" expression. She stifled a giggle. Tomorrow's motorcycle ride would be very interesting indeed.