A Touch of Poise by ArianaFaithful

Chapter 5: Sepia

"Professor?"

Ariana turned around, placing the chalk that rested in her hand onto her desk at the front of the class room. She scanned the room quickly, searching for the face to the deadly familiar voice.

The rest of the class looked up from their parchment and stared at Ron, who had his arm in the air, waiting for the professor to call on him.

"Yes, Mister …" Ariana said, pretending not to know who he was.

"Weasley. My name's Ron."

"Right, Mister Weasley," Ariana said, containing a smirk behind her thin lips. She missed her friend; and how she adored him. "What is it then?"

"I was just wondering if you could tell us a little bit about yourself," he said, glancing sideways towards Harry, who hadn't even looked up from his parchment.

Ariana let the smile slip onto her lips, as she sat delicately on the edge of her desk.

"What is it that you would like to know, Mister Weasley?"

The class seemed to sit up a little straighter once they realised she was going to answer questions that had piqued the schools curiosity for the past week.

Ron rubbed his hand behind his head, his face turning the same shade as his hair.

"Where are you from? What did you do before you came to Hogwarts?"

"I grew up in England, but for the past two years I have been studying advanced magic in Egypt."

"How old are you?" Seamus called out.

Ariana smiled to herself. This would be fun.

"I'm a few months older than most of you," she said, watching their shocked faces.

More hands rose up around the classroom.

"How is it that you are a teacher then?" Dean Thomas cried across the noise.

"I studied at a magical school for a while, but then self taught myself what I didn't know. I think you will find I am more than equipped to teach you this year. You over there, with the black hair."

Pansy Parkinson smiled widely at Ariana, before introducing herself to the professor.

"I was just wondering, where did you get your shoes?"

The boys in the class groaned, while Daphne Greengrass, Lavender Brown and Pavarti Patil all sat up straighter. Ariana noticed that Draco Malfoy was grimacing at Pansy, before turning back to look at her from under his lashes.

Ariana chuckled, "well spotted Miss Parkinson. These, I found on my way to Egypt."

Harry Potter raised his hand in the air, seeming to deliberate beforehand.

"Did you grow up in Godric's Hollow, like Professor Dumbledore?"

Ariana saw the glimpse of hope shaded in his eyes. The emerald seemed to shine today, more than usual. She knew he was seeking information about his parents, perhaps wondering if her parents had known then, befriended them. If she knew anything at all.

"I'm afraid not," she said quietly, and the look on Harry's face made her wish she hadn't allowed Ron to ask her questions at all.

She looked around the room, desperately seeking another hand to expel the deadening sadness she had for Harry. She noticed Draco Malfoy's hand was up. She called on him.

"Professor, I was wondering what it was that led you to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts," Draco said, putting on his most charming voice.

Ariana sighed, "Mister Malfoy, I have learnt in the past that the Dark Arts are an abyss, in which one finds themselves often to have stumbled upon quite accidentally. It is not something I would wish upon my mortal enemy, for it consumes you so completely that you no longer have the ability to see things clearly. It is, in my opinion, the most unfortunate thing that could happen to a person. The Dark Arts are unlike anything else in its simple power to take a human from their environment, to take away feelings of anything but driving ambition and to turn them into something more terrible than a monster. In this sense, I believe that each and every person should understand that full nature of the Dark Arts, and what it means to let them become your master. It is even more important to know how to protect – not only yourself – but the people and things around you, for they are likely as innocent as the flower which blooms in the sun."

The class had fallen silent. There were no more whispering between school mates, no more glares being flung across the classroom from Slytherin to Gryffindor. Wands sat in book bags, or dropped onto the desk, as their books (which they had been reading out of before Ron interrupted) lay completely forgotten beside their quills and parchment.

Draco Malfoy was looking at her, and it seemed to Ariana that he did not quite know what to make of her. Ron was sitting back in his seat, staring at her as if he was truly looking at her for the first time. Harry stared at her, his eyes narrowed – in thought, Ariana believed, not in anger – and hands wringing beneath his desk. Pansy looked up at Ariana with what seemed like admiration, while Dean and Seamus looked at her with excited grins on their faces.

"Have you ever used the Dark Arts yourself?" Harry said, his tone challenging.

"There is nothing in the world that could make me use the Dark Arts. I have seen enough suffering in the people I love to understand the bitter foolishness of those powers," Ariana said, a quiet fury entering her voice. "No, Mister Potter, I have never used them."

Harry nodded at her, seeming to make peace with what she said.

"Class, while we may be talking about the Dark Arts," Ariana said, trying to sound chipper and change the dark mood of the classroom. "We are not talking about today's intended topic! Accio parchment!"

The parchment her students had spent the beginning of the class working on flew into a neat pile on her desk. The students stared up at her, waiting. Ariana began her lecture.

"Curses," she told the class, "are an evil sort of magic. While the magic you learn here at Hogwarts is what I will refer to as neutral magic, it can also be used for a less than pure purpose. The difference in magic is behind the spellcaster's intentions. Such as the magic you learn in Charms and Transfiguration, curses can be used effectively, and in the right manner. For example, the Fidelius Charm, can be used for bad or for good. This makes it a neutral spell. Using a curse to aid yourself, or someone else from an evil purpose would be considered, ethically, the right manner. Using a curse to demonstrate your ability – if the curse does not inflict harm – it would also be considered the right manner. The difference is, when it comes to the Dark Arts, curses you learn at school can often be the least of your worries.

"In relation to the Dark Arts, most spells have evil intentions. Most were created around the Four Founder's time, 1000 A.D. Curses, and some hexes and jinxes, have only evil intentions in mind when their creator developed them. The Dark Arts are mostly unexplored, as the obvious danger was seen as soon as they started popping up. Spells that were based on evil were outlawed by magic rulers, and these laws are still being enforced by the ministry today. It is the direct intention to do harm which places a spell into the category of the Dark Arts.

"While a person may use a curse or hex belonging to the category of Dark Arts, it does not mean that person is necessarily using the Dark Arts. It is ultimately the intention of the caster and the spells placement of the receiver of the curse which determines that the person is or is not using the Dark Arts. It is hard to make a distinction along the line of evil and of good intent, which leads to why Hogwarts teaches Defence Against the Dark Arts, as it is important to understand the difference between what spells are acceptable, and what are not.

"I want you to list the spells on the board down onto your parchment, provide a description of the spells effects, and then describe whether or not it is a neutral or a dark spell. You have until the end of the class, and homework time. These are to be handed in at the beginning of next lesson."

Ariana sat down at her desk, overseeing the class. At intervals, students would look up at her with something akin to awe, but quickly place their heads back down as they met her gaze. Ariana poured over the classes' previous work, marking their parchments. At the end of the class, as she dismissed them, the pieces of parchment flew back towards their owners, their grades resting in red ink at the top.

Ariana shuffled around the classroom once it was empty. She waved her wand at the floor, and cleaning up any bits of spilt ink or scrap parchment. She would work hard, not only to unravel the secrets of the crown Dumbledore refused to tell her, but to gain the trust of her students – even the Slytherins, because she felt that not all of them were as evil as they made out to be.

It seemed that, Hogwarts ever the place for gossip and rumours, Professor Ariana was being discussed throughout the castle. The Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs all spoke highly of her, regarding her as the best Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher since Lupin. The Ravenclaws admired her for her quick wit, and intellect, and proclaimed that had never learnt as much about the Defence Against the Dark Arts than they had with her teaching. Even the Slytherins respected her, constantly turning all their work in on time, and trying to get on her good side. The males of Hogwarts swooned after her; her blonde hair, smarts, small waist and kind nature had them at her beck and call. The females of Hogwarts sought her out after class, to ask her opinion on what to wear on their dates to Hogsmeade, where to buy that coat they had seen her wearing, or how to get ahead in class. Ariana was admired, and trusted.

The first two months of the school year passed alarmingly quickly for everyone involved. The students found themselves either in classes, or doing homework. The teachers found themselves either in classes, or grading homework. It was a brutal cycle, agreed teachers and students alike.

Ariana had found time to set up her chambers, placing photographs of herself as Hermione with Harry and Ron (which had been charmed to show Ariana with Albus Dumbledore) sat on her bedside. The crown lay in a box on top of her wardrobe, bound by heavy protection charms.

She had redecorated her rooms, changing the colour of her quilts and the size and comfort of her couch. She had set up the living room as her place of solitude. Here she placed her books, her photo albums and priceless treasures in. The small coffee table and couch acted as her hideaway.

The bathroom, she had changed to a creamy marble colour, and had expanded it from the inside. She felt something close to worship in regards to the time she spent in the bathroom. She allowed her showers to drain away the sadness and homesickness of her old life, and the stress and anxiety of her new one.

While many envied her perfect life, she found that while she did enjoy it, a keen sense of loss and a feeling of deadness consumed her every waking hour. If only Harry and Ron knew that she wasn't dead. She had seen the change in them, and overheard Ginny speaking to Neville and Luna of it one day as she paced around the grounds. Harry had become more secluded from the people around him, often refusing to talk to people for days at a time.

Her old name was brought up once, by Dean while her class were participating in a discussion involving the power of spells regarding the power of the caster. He had mentioned Hermione to be the cleverest witch he had ever met, and that she could put their entire year level to shame. Ron had got out of his seat, his face as red as his hair, kicked over an empty seat and stormed out of the classroom. Harry had sat in his seat, staring out the window and refused to say another word for the rest of the week.

She wished – oh how she wished! – that she could have gone to the two of them and told them everything. She knew she couldn't, and that if they were to ever find out, that it would be after Voldemort was defeated, and not before.

Something no one in the castle suspected, besides Albus Dumbledore, was Ariana's sorrow and loneliness. She watched her old friends, even the Slytherins as they participated in school and Hogsmeade outings, and dark feelings overwhelmed her.

Ariana sat on her living room couch, staring into the fire on the 30th of October, almost a full two months since she had arrived at the school to begin teaching. She had resolved to shed her loneliness and make friends with her students. She watched the fire, having decided to use Halloween as her first step to becoming real friends with some of her students.

She yawned, stretching her hands over her head and peered out of the window. The sun was just rising. Ariana headed to the bathroom, showered and climbed into her robes for the day – a bewitched set she had spelled the night before. Her robes, with the help of an invisibility charm, flickered on and off between causing Ariana to appear to shimmer, as though she was disappearing, and then restore full vision to her in a nice set of robes. She grinned as she glanced in the mirror and saw her body glimmer and fade, then promptly appear again.

She headed down to the Great Hall and took her seat beside Snape, who seemed to be the only other person in the castle awake, as he was the only other one in the Great Hall. He acknowledged her as she sat down and pulled a plate of toast towards her. Thousands of bats flew around the enchanted ceiling, never coming close to base of the room, where the students would sit around their house tables and enjoy the Halloween feast later that night. Spider webs hung from the walls, resting on tables and dangling from the floating candles which lit the dim room.

"Professor," Ariana said after swallowing a bite of her egg on toast. "I was wondering if I could talk to you about arranging a joint class for one session next week. I was thinking that I would bring my seventh years down to the dungeons and we could discuss some of the darker potions, their effects and what their antidote is."

Snape looked at her from underneath his greasy black hair.

"That sounds like a marvellous idea," he drawled slowly. She couldn't tell if he was mocking her or not.

"What potions do you plan on having us teach the class?"

Again, his slippery, cold voice confused Ariana, but she continued with her request.

"Well, I was thinking we could start with Draught of Living Death, as more of a defensive potion, and then continue with the dangers of potions such as exploding fluids, and Flesh Eating Slug Repellent. We could then teach about the issues of the Instant Darkness Powder, perhaps the Polyjuice Potion…"

"Well of course I have already covered the dangers of these potions," Snape said, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice, and staring at her haughtily.

"I know that," Ariana continued, frustrated at his lacking attitude towards her. "I meant in conjunction with a Defence Against the Dark Arts class. This way, your teaching will be used so I can take these issues, which currently the students only learn about in theory, and put them into practice. We are about to cover a potions section of the course, and I thought this would benefit the students completely!"

"Well then, Professor Dumbledore," Snape said, turning and raising his glass to her. "Bring your students down to the dungeons next Monday after lunch."

Ariana stuffed the last piece of her breakfast in her mouth, chased it down with her juice and nodded to Snape.

"Thank you," she said, and walked out of the Great Hall.

She took the stairs two at a time, jittery and anxious to reach her class room. She strode to her office, which connected to the side of the Defence Against the Dark Arts class room, and flung the door open. She pulled the window wide open and stared at all the parchment on her desk. She finished marking the final stack, which she had neglected last night due to fatigue. She charmed them all to fly back to their owners once they entered the class room; sparing her having to hand their essays back.

Ariana still had a good hour before the beginning of her first class, and so began to rearrange the class room. She pulled down some of the old posters from the walls and put them in a small cupboard at the end of the room. She took her wand and pointed it at the wall, biting her lower lip in thought.

She began performing spells on the wall, and when the time the first student entered her class room for the morning, she stood back and stared at the wall. Her class stood collectively behind her, their voices silencing once they entered the room and looked upon the left wall.

"My god, Professor," Lavender Brown suddenly whispered.