Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his universe belong to JK Rowling, Charlotte belongs to me. I'm just here for the food. (Translation: don't sue me!)
Sought
(working title)
I was
stained, with a role, in a day not my own
But as you walked into my life you showed what needed to be shown
And I always knew, what was right I just didn't know that I might
Peel away and choose to see with such a different sight
And I will
never see the sky the same way and
I will learn to say good-bye to yesterday and
I will never cease to fly if held down and
I will always reach too high cause I've seen, cause I've seen, twilight
-Vanessa Carlton, "Twilight"
The autumn sun had just begun to sink below Oxford's dreaming spires when Charlotte Parnell shouldered her book bag and walked out of the library. She had spent the last two hours in the New Bodleian studying for her Latin exam. Latin was the last of the equivalency classes she needed before beginning her English Literature PhD. Charlotte had long since gotten over her initial irritation that Oxford had considered her two other degrees from reputable American universities Not Good Enough and even conceded that there was some merit in English scholars knowing Latin, but she had hoped that being a PhD candidate meant freedom from exams. No such luck. At least this will bring my official language count to four, she thought, five if you count American English. She felt relatively cheerful as she made her way slowly back to New College, her temporary home. Charlotte had been in Oxford nearly six months, even with the annoyance of the equivalency courses she would not have traded one moment for all the tea in China.
Passing the Sheldonian, she turned on to New College Lane. Charlotte was nearly to the entrance of the college when someone crashed into her from behind. The force of the impact knocked her to her knees and sent her Latin text and practice manual flying. She looked up and saw a man in a black duster striding briskly away, as if nothing had happened. There was no one else on the street. Cursing under her breath about tourists, Charlotte picked her self up and gathered her books. Lying next to her practice manual was a parchment scroll with a dark red wax seal. The man must have dropped it when he ran into her. If he had bothered to stop he wouldn't have lost it. Charlotte thought of keeping it, it would make a cute souvenir, but her conscience got the better of her.
"Hey, wait! I think you dropped this!
***
Whoever he was he certainly moved quickly. She had jogged down New College, past where it turned into Queen's Lane and was almost to the High and hadn't seen him. If he had already made it to the High she had as good as lost him. She continued her trot down to High Street and scanned the thinning evening crowds for a tall man in a black duster to no avail. Maybe he ducked into a side street, she thought, retracing her steps up Queen's Lane. As she turned back on to New College she saw two figures blocking her path. They were both wearing long black robes with the hoods drawn well over their faces and carrying slender objects that looked like batons or wands. She kept walking towards them, but they did not move.
"Nice outfits, guys," she said, trying to keep her voice level, "but Halloween isn't for another month. If you'll excuse me, I need to get by." They did not move. One of them waved his stick and muttered something. Instantly Charlotte felt a searing heat course through her arm, as if someone had stuck a hot poker against her bicep. She looked down but saw nothing but the sleeve of her navy pea coat. Another muttered phrase and a wave of the wand and her legs slammed together, knocking her off balance for the second time that day. She fell backwards, hitting her tailbone, elbows and head all against the hard concrete.
"That's enough," said the other figure. He had a smooth, silky voice, laced with malice.
"Can't I have a little fun with the Muggle?" asked the mutterer, plaintively.
"Later. Business first." He took a step towards Charlotte, "I believe you have something I want, a paper scroll with a red wax seal. Be a good girl and give it to me."
Charlotte shook her head. "You're not the man who dropped this. I think I'd better give it to him."
"I assure you that it would be better off in my hands. Now, give it to me." His words were cold steel. Charlotte was suddenly very afraid. Her legs refused to come apart and her head was throbbing. This guy was bad news.
"N-no, I don't think so."
The figure sighed. "I tried to ask politely. You've forced me to use less pleasant means of persuasion." He raised his wand "Imperio!"
There was a voice at the back of Charlotte's head. Give him the scroll; you don't need it, why do you want it? Give it to him. She had her had her hand halfway extended to him before she knew what was happening. She shook her head. What am I doing? Charlotte tried to pull her hand back, but it felt like lead.
"Stop it!" she cried, forcing her hand back to her side. Give it to him, the voice insisted. "No, NO!" she screamed. The voice stopped and her arm went limp. The two figures were standing as though frozen, the silky one's wand in mid-air. Charlotte barely had time to register this fact before she lost consciousness.
***
Charlotte awoke with a start. Where were the robed figures? Had they managed to get the scroll?
A pair of gentle but firm hands pushed her back down. "It's alright dear, you're safe here," said a woman's voice. Charlotte rubbed her eyes and looked around. From the rows of white sheeted beds, she guessed she was in some kind of hospital. Three people were hovering over her bed; none of them looked much like doctors.
"Good morning, my dear," said the one in the middle. He was wearing embroidered purple robes and had long white hair, an equally long beard and a pair of twinkling blue eyes that made him look younger than he probably was. "How are you feeling?" That question made Charlotte think, and she realized that her arm was no longer on fire, and the nausea signaling her incipient concussion was gone.
"I'm fine, sir," she said, surprised, "a little tired, but other than that, fine."
"Excellent! Allow me to make some introductions. I am Albus Dumbledore. This is Poppy Pomfrey," Madam Pomfrey was an older woman who had a bustling but kind look about her. "And I believe you have," he paused, "already encountered Severus Snape." Charlotte had not seen his face, and he had changed into black robes, but she recognized those shoulders as belonging to the man who had run into her earlier. Snape inclined his head slightly. He was tall and thin, with pale skin, a hook nose and lanky black hair. He looked decidedly less friendly than Pomfrey or Dumbledore.
"Did you get your scroll?" Charlotte asked quickly, looking at Snape.
He scowled down at her, "Yes."
If I had known you were going to be so appreciative, I would have given it to the druid rejects, Charlotte thought sourly. She turned back to Dumbledore, who was far more pleasing to look at. "I'm guessing I'm not at the University Med Center," she said slowly.
Dumbledore nodded, "We are some distance from Oxford, indeed. You are in the infirmary at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
Charlotte blinked, "'Witchcraft and Wizardry'? Well, that would certainly explain all the wand waving, although it does kind of set my notion of the universe on its ear." She scrubbed her face with her hands. "Magic…okay. I guess my next question should be: what am I doing here?"
"Severus returned to Queen Street to retrieve the scroll and found you unconscious. He thought it better to bring you here where Madam Pomfrey could exercise her considerable talent upon you than to leave you in the alley with your companions."
"What happened to them? They were trying to make me give them the scroll, it felt like one of them was inside my head making my arm work, and then all of a sudden they stopped."
The members of Hogwarts faculty exchanged glances. "We were rather hoping you could tell us what happened," said Dumbledore gently, "as I said, you were unconscious, but someone performed Stupefy upon them. You were the only one in the area and you have no knowledge of magic. Can you tell me exactly what happened before you lost consciousness?"
"That voice in my head made me raise my arm to give the scroll to one of them…" she paused as Madam Pomfrey whispered, "Imperius!" "I managed to pull my arm back, but the voice kept insisting. I shouted," she flushed, "actually, more like screamed, "No!" and the voice stopped and…then I blacked out."
"I must say, you behaved quite bravely, Miss Parnell." Dumbledore said with a smile, "But there are two things in particular that interest us greatly. Firstly, that you were able to resist the Imperius curse, which is known as one of the Unforgivable Curses. Secondly, that you were able to cast Stupefy without the aid of a wand, or any training. Most impressive." He seemed to be thinking carefully about something. "Has anything of this nature ever happened to you before?"
"Do you mean the strange guys in robes waving wands at me, or the stupefy thing?" she paused, "When I was five I took the wrong bus home from school. I ended up in a field on the outskirts of town. I sat down and started to cry, the next thing I knew I heard my mom calling to me – I was no longer in the field but in my own backyard." She looked sheepish, "I was never very good with directions, I thought I had just gotten really confused."
Dumbledore seemed most pleased with this story, his blue eyes twinkled and he clapped his hands. "Wonderful! I believe you have the makings of a competent witch. Would you consider staying with us and learning more?"
"I don't know sir. I've got quite a lot of school work ahead of me at Oxford…"
"I can assure you that time spent at Hogwarts will only serve to improve your Latin," he smiled at some joke of his own. "But I believe there is a gravity to the situation that you do not appreciate. One of the men you fortuitously Stupefied has been known to carry a grudge. I do not believe it would be safe for you to return to Oxford at this time. At least let us give you the skills to protect yourself from him." He looked so earnest that Charlotte looked down at the white sheet to collect her thoughts. When she looked up again he was all good humored twinkling again.
"Okay, I'm in. When do we start?"
Dumbledore smiled at her. "Later. You need to rest, and Madam Pomfrey has long desired our absence. Sleep my dear, we will talk again soon."
***
Charlotte was lacing her sneakers when Dumbledore and Snape returned. She had awoken a few hours earlier and had been shown by Madam Pomfrey to a large bathroom where, among other things, she had the strangest and most enjoyable bath of her life. She could still smell the tangerine bubbles that had poured forth from gold taps on her skin and hair. The bath had also given her a chance to get her thoughts together. Magic, especially the kind that would protect her from robed weirdoes, was definitely more exciting than PhD work. But she didn't want to lose her place at University – she had worked too hard to get accepted to throw it away. She told Dumbledore as much when she saw him.
"Of course not. I have already spoken with my contacts at the university. You are, as of this morning, on sabbatical. Researching some arcane piece of information, I am told, and completely unreachable by telephone." He winked. "Your course of study will be supervised by Professor Snape and the details of it I will leave to his devising." That announcement was news to Snape and he eyed the Headmaster with displeasure. "You will soon learn that our students are quite adept at discovering anything unusual that takes place within these walls. I have almost given up keeping anything secret. Miss Parnell, have you had any teaching experience?"
The abrupt change of subject caught Charlotte off guard, "Um, yes sir. I taught an Intro English lab at both schools in the US and I have a small study group at Oxford."
"Excellent! Beginning after the Christmas holidays you will teach a special class on American Muggle Studies. It has been a long time since we had an American at Hogwarts, it should be most educational." The old wizard looked quite pleased with himself.
Charlotte was less certain about the advisability of her teaching a bunch of adolescent witches and wizards. "What's a Muggle?"
"Non-magical people. I have had rooms prepared for you in the teacher's wing. Madam Pomfrey will escort you there. I will also have someone come get you for meals – the castle can be a bit tricky to get around if you are not used to it." His eyes sparkled with mirth as he bid her good-bye
***
Severus Snape waited until the door to Dumbledore's office had shut before opening his mouth. "Headmaster, I must insist. My duties as head of Slytherin and Potions Master do not allow free time for the tutoring of young girls!"
"But Severus, you have such a gift for teaching," Dumbledore said with a smile and a twinkle, "I can think of no better person-"
"Spare me your flattery, Albus," interrupted Snape with an impatient wave of his hand.
"As you wish. You are the perfect choice to lead her studies because you are, after all, the one who – brought her to our attention."
Snape crossed his arms and bent his head. After a few moments of silence he replied, "Very well, Headmaster."
"Excellent. Before the end of the week you will need to take her to Diagon Alley to get what she needs." He cut off Snape's indignant protest by adding, "And see that she finds her way to the Great Hall for dinner."
***
Charlotte had never seen a place as wonderful, or as frighteningly confusing as Hogwarts. She envied Madam Pomfrey's ease as she led Charlotte up moving staircases, past portraits with very realistic subjects, and around ghosts. They had made their expedition while classes were in session, to avoid any unnecessary attention. Pomfrey stopped in front of a large painting of a girl under a starry sky.
"Password?" she/it asked, and Charlotte nearly jumped out of her skin.
"Mangel-wurzel," replied Madam Pomfrey and the portrait swung open, revealing an oval shaped hole in the wall behind it. "The teacher's rooms are all along this floor," Pomfrey said, leading her in, "students generally do not come up this way. Even if they did, they can't get in without the password." She pulled out her wand and with a wave a tray of sandwiches and juice appeared on a nearby table. "That should keep you satisfied until dinner. Have a rest until someone comes to collect you. I wouldn't go wandering around the castle on your own yet." With this word of warning she left Charlotte alone.
Charlotte looked down at the tray with trepidation, how does wizard food taste? She took a nibble of a sandwich and found that it tasted like turkey sandwiches. She poured herself a glass of the dark orange-colored juice and surveyed her surroundings.
The room was divided into two sections, a spacious sitting room with an assortment of low tables, chairs, couches and a fireplace and a bedroom with a large four-poster bed and dresser. Everything was dark colors and rich woods. Wall sconces throughout the room gave it a cozy glow. There was a door beside the dresser that led into another wonderful bathroom like the one in the infirmary. On her second sandwich she noticed a large trunk at the foot of the bed containing all her personal effects from her room at New College. Studying at the library seems half a lifetime ago, she thought, unpacking her clothes and books. The addition of her stuffed hedgehog, Gilbert, and a few other pieces of "Muggle" bric-a-brac made the room feel more like home and less like an exotic hotel room.
Charlotte whiled away her afternoon reviewing her Latin and staring at the blank pages of her journal. How do I possibly write about this? She wanted to go and explore more of the castle, but she remembered Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore's warnings and stayed put. As the light through the window faded, Charlotte's thoughts turned to dinner. She presumed that a long sleeve shirt, jeans and sneakers would not be appropriate at any English boarding school, let alone one for aspiring witches and wizards. She hadn't brought much in the way of nice clothing with her to Oxford. After some experimentation she settled on a silver blouse, a long black skirt and her black calf boots.
She was debating the makeup issue when a feminine voice called, "Miss Parnell, you have a visitor." It took Charlotte a moment to realize that the voice was that of the painting outside her room. She pushed open the door and saw Professor Snape, looking annoyed and holding a folded piece of black fabric under his arm.
"Professor Dumbledore asked me to escort you to dinner," he said, with thinly veiled displeasure. "He also wanted to give you this; it will make you less… conspicuous at dinner." He handed her the fabric, which turned out to be a black robe with the Hogwarts crest over the left breast. Now properly attired, she followed Snape out of her room, pausing to wave at the girl in the portrait who gave her a cheeky grin in return.
After about a staircase worth of silence, Charlotte plucked up her courage to say, "I'm sorry that my arrival has forced an extra student upon you."
He looked at her sharply and then replied, "No, I should apologize. If I had not dropped the scroll it would not have been necessary to bring you here."
She smiled, "Let's call it a wash then. I'm glad to be here, and I'm excited to learn about magic. I will try not to be a troublesome student."
Snape looked down into her eager eyes and sighed, I find that hard to believe. "We will hope for competency at least, for it is your life that will depend on what you learn." The sting of this sneering set-down was diminished by the beauty of the Great Hall, which they had entered as he spoke. It was a mammoth room, with candles suspended in mid air and a ceiling that looked like the night sky. Snape led her to a chair beside Dumbledore at the faculty table before taking his own seat further down. Charlotte smiled at the Headmaster and looked out at the four long tables beginning to fill with students. Some of them had already noticed a new figure at the head table and were speculating with their friends who she might be. The attention made Charlotte a little nervous. She was introduced to the other faculty members, who seemed to have been briefed on her true background.
Once the students were all seated, the witch sitting to Dumbledore's right –Charlotte thought her name was McGonagall – tapped on her glass for quiet. Dumbledore stood and smiled benignly out at the sea of faces. "I have some most exciting news this evening. I am pleased to introduce a new faculty member, Professor Charlotte Parnell." He motioned for Charlotte to stand and joined in the polite applause from the students. "Professor Parnell will be teaching a special class on American Muggle Studies after the Christmas holidays. It will be added to the schedules of those currently enrolled in Muggle Studies. Other interested parties should contact their Head of House. And now-" he waved his hand and the tables blossomed with platters of food. Conscious of the scrutiny of the students, Charlotte tried to mimic the behavior of the other professors, who took magically appearing food for granted. She helped herself to the platter of roast beef the Headmaster offered her before passing it along to Professor Sprout.
Charlotte enjoyed dinner more than she thought she would. The food was excellent, and she had a pleasant conversation with Professor Sprout about gardens in England and America. Gradually the students began filtering back to their dormitories; once they were all gone, the professors took their leave.
A dark figure loomed at Charlotte's side – Professor Snape, looking impatient. "I will escort you back to your room if you are ready, Professor," he said with a sneer. Charlotte wondered what she could have possibly done to get on Snape's bad side. Maybe he doesn't have a good side to get on. Without a word, she followed him out of the hall. Snape bid Charlotte goodnight outside her room and turned to go.
"Wait," she said, taking a deep breath, "I wanted to thank you –"
"As I said before, Miss Parnell, no thanks are necessary," Snape interrupted.
"Hear me out. I wanted to thank you for saving my life. If I had still been on Queen's Lane when they came out of whatever I did to them, I'm positive I wouldn't be alive now. So, um, thanks. I owe you one." Snape looked at her in mild surprise. "I believe the customary response is 'you're welcome'" Charlotte prompted.
"You're welcome," he answered, and turned on his heel and walked off.
Charlotte turned to her portrait who had watched scene in interest. "Do you have a name?"
The girl nodded, "Celeste"
"That's a pretty name. Tell me, Celeste, is he always like this?" she asked, nodding at Snape's retreating shape.
Celeste smiled, "yes."
Charlotte groaned – it was going to be a long autumn.
***
Severus Snape was, in most instances, a man of his word. He would teach the Parnell girl, as Dumbledore had asked, but he still thought Minerva or one of the other professors would be better suited to the job. He banged his fist on his desk. It was his fault that she had to be taught anything! If he had not dropped the scroll she would have continued in her little Muggle life unaware of the abilities she possessed. But since he had dropped the scroll, it really was unfair to leave her unprotected. Lucius would back in Oxford in an instant, for the sheer sport of it. And that would be the end of Charlotte Parnell. He had arrived on the scene in Queen's Lane in time to hear Charlotte scream, had seen the two robed figures stiffen, and had seen the girl collapse. He approached the men from behind, closed their eyes and laid them on the ground. Any Muggle that went past would assume that they were drunks or vagrants. That done, he picked up the girl and Apparated.
Snape folded his hands and thought. There was much to be done to make Miss Parnell a credible witch before she could return to her world. Indeed, there was much to be done before she began teaching classes next term. The students were quick to spot anything amiss at Hogwarts – one passing comment from Draco Malfoy would have his father in the headmaster's office within the hour. Charlotte was safe within the walls of the school, but her discovery could lead to serious problems for him and for the Ministry of Magic's efforts to bring down Voldemort. Should the Dark Lord learn who had carried that scroll from Oxford to Hogwarts…That does not bear thinking about now, focus on the task at hand.
Charlotte was having trouble sleeping. There was too much to think about, too much had happened. She wanted to start learning how to be a witch immediately – but she was fairly confident that that Snape was the sort of teacher who expected you to be in your best form at all times, and a lack of sleep was not going to help her at all. She rolled over and tucked Gilbert under her arm. She was trying to remember some of the relaxing breathing techniques she had learned in college when she heard a strange noise, like something sliding across the floor. The wall sconces, which had put themselves out when she crawled into bed, lit the room in a dim glow. There was an envelope lying in the middle of the floor with "Miss Parnell" written in a firm, clear hand. Inside was a missive from Snape and a list of books. The letter informed her that he would be taking her to a place called Diagon Alley tomorrow to purchase materials for her studies. The books were a selection that he recommended she purchase or check out of the library. Good thing I didn't have any plans for tomorrow, she thought sourly; the letter was little better than a command. She set it down and crawled back into bed. I wonder what Diagon Alley is. A wizard mall, perhaps? Her head filled with the wonderful things a wizard mall might contain, she finally drifted off to sleep.