A soft whooshing sound came as a girl came spinning into view into the large office of Hogwarts' headmaster. The walls were covered in framed portraits of the later heads, the most recent to pas in the largest frame, directly behind the large, golden, throne-like chair that sat at a desk on a risen platform in the office. Long shelves and tables also took up a good amount of space, where ticking and whizzing trinkets, gadgets, and instruments sat. This, at a first glance, seemed like an ordinary old office, but, if you looked closely enough, it was anything but. Some instruments were floating a few inches above the surface while others spun and rocked without anything guiding them. A few puffed smoke and steam into unnatural forms. On the desk a quil was scratching away at a piece of parchment when the only person in the room was on the lower platform at least three yards away. A foot or so away, two candles were hovering without any suspension.

It was not only these peculiar things, but the man in the room wore a long black cloak which would look completely ridiculous in London. He had a long, hooked nose and his hair curtained his long pale face. He was staring out the window upon the grounds of the school. The semester would be starting soon and in no time there would be the school carriages being pulled by something even stranger than anything in the office at the time.

In the short distance the Forbidden Forest was in view. It held creatures you would not believe. Unicorns, werewolves, thestrals, hippogriffs… and that was only four of the thousand. Right along the edge of the forest was a small cabin where Rubeus Hagrid, the gamekeeper and Care of Magical Creatures professor used to live. For now. The man now in the room knew he was on the run, somewhere in the mountains.

The headmaster did not turn, now, to see the emerald flames die as the girl brushed some ash and floo powder--powder to allow this sort of travel, from fireplace to fireplace--off her bright orange and black cloak-like dress. He thought it was Bellatrix Lastrange, a particularly cruel Death Eater. She had also been particularly surprised when he killed the previous headmaster of this school. Bellatrix had thought he was not loyal to the Dark Lord--Lord Voldemort--and only pretended to be, as a spy.

"I have no time for you, Bellatrix," the headmaster said in a sneering voice. He had no patience. Truthfully, he was not on the Dark Lord's side and was a spy for Albus Dumbledore, the man in the largest painting. The killing of him was, in fact, planned. Though the man deep in thought now, did not want to do it, Dumbledore told him he must. For what? The soul of a sixteen year old boy, Draco Malfoy, who was originally ordered by the Lord? He thought Dumbledore's reason was ridiculous. Being in the mercy of Voldemort meant much more then being ordered to assassinate great wizards. The boy's soul will be in much more damage in the next week than after he carried out the deed.

"Well, it's good that I am not Lestrange, then is it?" replied the girl. She looked no more than twenty. She had beautiful crimped, black hair, dark eyes with a hint of orange and a normal colored face, unlike most under Lord Voldemort, who were pale from Azkaban, or mere stress or fear that he would pop up and kill them, which had happened before if the Dark Lord wished to blow off some steam. The girl continued. "And even better that your Lord has sent me, Severus Snape."

Snape slowly turned to see her. He took in her most peculiar appearance, especially having met Voldemort.

"Who are you?" he hissed. Though he could do nothing about it, he did not enjoy his Lord sending unpleasant Death Eaters in through the fire, especially if he did not know them.

"Jillian Teira," she said. "The Dark Lord sent me to meet you. I am an addition."

Severus thought he understood this. An addition to the Death Eaters. But why did she look so picture perfect? She did not look as if tortured or maltreated in any way. Not even sad or angry.

"Very well, but why has he sent you?" Snape asked.

"Haven't we cleared through that?" She said. "I am a new teacher here."

"Teacher? For what? All our posts are filled."

"Not Care of Magical Creatures." Snape eyed her. "You think Rubeus Hagrid was going to be returning while we have power? Not very likely. So I'll be filling in that post.

"Aren't you a bit… young to be teaching?" Snape sneered.

"I'm nineteen. Above age. What do you think is wrong with being young? Don't think I know enough magic?" Jillian jeered. "Funny."

"I do not approve of your disrespect," Severus said flatly in his droning voice.

"Well, your approval doesn't really matter, here. He sent me so I will teach here." She was not angry or impatient. On the contrary, she said this with a slight smile on her face. "The only decision of yours is where is my classroom and where is my office?"

Snape paused. He did not enjoy being demanded answers. Especially by this girl who looks like she should still be a student rather than a teacher.

"The ground floor. Last room in the corridor," He told her, sourly. "And there is an office in the room."

Snape considered Jillian for a moment. Yes, he decided. He would try to curse her. The Cruciatus Curse. The Dark Lord could not blame him. Just to test if she had the reflexes and magical skill of a much older witch. With lightening speed he flashed his wand. A jet of red light protruded from it, but Jillian was ready. She flicked her wand lazily in front of her and a small black hole seemed to form in front of her, catching the curse and closing. There was a soft foosh as the hole burst into a shower of a few tiny stars.

"I should warn you. Once I leave this office, cursing me would be most unwise, Snape." She wasn't smiling any more. She turned to leave but stopped abruptly and turned back. "And if anyone sees a can slinking around. Tell them not to bother it. It will not hurt them unless they attempt to hurt it."

She then turned and walked out.