I crouched, tense, as the intruders came into the sitting room. Wizards, I knew, one of them whispered "Lumos!"

My heart rate lessened when I saw it was Dumbledore. He had someone with him who gasped as the second wizard surveyed the damage I'd hastily done. Dumbledore said to him, "Not pretty, is it? Yes, something horrible has happened here."

He moved closer toward me, and I tried not to tremble. Behind him was the second wizard. I got a good look at him. A young lad, very thin, tousled black hair, large glasses. And though I couldn't see his eyes quite clearly, there was something that stirred a memory, long-forgotten. From the sound of his voice, he might be a teenager. "Maybe there was a fight, and—and they dragged him off, Professor?"

Professor—might be a student? Dumbledore replied, "I don't think so," and looked right at me.

"You mean he's—"

"Still here somewhere? Yes."

I'd been found, there was nothing left to do. What I didn't expect was for Dumbledore to stab me in the stomach, with his wand. "Ouch!"

"Good evening, Horace."

I straightened up. "There was no need to stick the wand in that hard. It hurt," I moaned, rubbing my belly. "What gave it away?"

I'd done all I could to make it look like a murder had just happened, but he hadn't been fooled. No surprise—he was the greatest wizard of the age. He chuckled, "My dear Horace, if the Death Eaters had really come to call, the Dark Mark would have been set over the house."

I slapped my forehead. "The Dark Mark. Knew there was something.. ah well. Wouldn't have had time anyway, I'd only just put the finishing touches to my upholstery when you entered the room."

"Would you like my assistance clearing up?"

Together we did one big Reparo charm, mending everything. I saw the teenager he had with him. And then I saw his lightning scar.

Harry Potter!

Immediately my anger at Dumbledore for barging in vanished. Harry Potter—the Boy who Lived, Lily's son…

But then it dawned on me why Dumbledore was here. "So that's how you thought you'd persuade me, is it? Well the answer's no, Albus."

Dumbledore, ever the calm lad he was, asked to have a drink. I tried to convince him I was too weak for the job, but he noted how quickly I'd wrecked the room. I still stand by what I've always said—the man should have been sorted into Ravenclaw, First Class, Order of Merlin. Or maybe not, from the sight of his burnt hand.

He tried to get me to come back, but I told him firmly, "If you're going to tell me my life would be more peaceful at that pestilential school, you can save your breath, Albus! I might have been in hiding, but some funny rumors have reached me since Dolores Umbridge left! If that's how you treat teachers these days—"

"Professor Umbridge ran afoul of our centaur herd. I think you, Horace, would have known better than to stride into the forest and call a horde of angry centaurs 'filthy half-breeds."

I had to choke back a laugh. "That's what she did, did she. Idiotic woman. Never liked her."

I heard a chuckle. Harry had laughed. He explained, "Sorry, it's just—I didn't like her either."

Well then. I decided I liked this lad. He had Lily's cheek and James' nerve. He'd be a fine member of the Slug Club. As if he'd read my mind, Dumbledore retreated to the bathroom and left me with the boy. I told him, "Don't think I don't know why he's brought you."

He didn't reply. I got a better look at him. He lookedexactly like James, but those eyes… those heavenly aqua eyes, those green eyes just like Lily's…

"You look like your father."

"Yeah, I've been told."

"Except for your eyes. You've got—"

"My mother's eyes, yeah."

Well, he might brush it off, but I would always remember those green eyes, flashing under her wild red hair. "Hmpf. Yes, well. You shouldn't have favorites as a teacher, of course, but she was one of mine. Your mother. Lily Evans, One of the brightest I ever taught. Vivacious, you know. Charming girl…"

And off I went, telling him about Lily. People tell me I sound like a voracious collector, but I'm just trying to preserve the memories, eh? Doesn't hurt to, in this time and age. "Your mother was Muggle-born, of course. Couldn't believe it when I found out. Thought she must have been pure-blood, she was so good."

Harry didn't seem pleased. "One of my best friends if Muggle-born, and she's the best in our year."

I'd like to meet her, I thought. Perhaps she'd have that same lovely red hair, waving and reflecting the sunlight, always pretty even when it was drenchecd with sweat as she concentrated on her potion. Did Harry love her, just as his father had tried to woo the green-eyed red-haired angel, in the foolishness of youth. Muggle-borns were always so lovely. "Funny how that sometimes happens, isn't it?" I said dreamily.

"Not really," snapped Harry.

I looked at him, surprised. "You mustn't think I'm prejudiced! No, no, no! Haven' I just said your mother was one of my all-time favorites students?"

I went off rambling about my other favorite students, but my heart wasn't really in it. The last thing I wanted was for Lily and James's son to think I was prejudiced. Never! I might have been solely responsible for the two Wizarding Wars, but I would never, never scorn someone just because they were Muggle-born. That was his job. That was the job of that one boy, that pale face with the striking dark hair, the one with the dark eyes he later turned red, thanks to me…

That was why I really didn't want to return to Hogwarts. For fear that I would repeat my mistake, misjudge another student. Because to hold someone too high in regard usually results in disappointment. For me, it had resulted in just disappointment. But for Harry…Itresulted in branding Harry with a scar across his forehead and an orphan for life.

But somehow, I wanted to return. Perhaps, if I looked after Lily's son, I could redeem myself. And I was quite curious to see if he had Lily's talent in potions for myself, yes indeed. He was also bold, too. He told me, "You don't have to join the Order to teach at Hogwarts. Most of the teachers aren't it it, and none of them has ever been killed—well, unless you count Quirrell, and he got what he deserved seeing as he was working with Voldemort."

Ooh, the rascal. Saying his name out loud! He went on, "I reckon the staff are safer that most people while Dumbledore's headmaster; he's supposed to be the only one Voldemort ever feared, isn't he?"

I mulled over it for a moment. I thought aloud, "Well, yes, it is true that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has never sought a fight with Dumbledore. And I suppose one could argue as I have not joined the Death Eaters, He-Who Must Not Be Named can hardly count me as a friend… in which case, I might well be safer a little closer to Albus. I cannot pretend Amelia Bones's death did not shake me… If she, with all her Ministry contacts and protection…"

Dumbledore came back into the room. I'd completely forgotten he was in the house. He gathered Harry and was about to leave when I shouted to him, "All right, all right, I'll do it!"

"You will come out of retirement?"

"Yes, Yes. I must be mad, but yes."

"Wonderful. Then, Horace, we shall se you on the first of September."

"Yes, I daresay you will," I grumbled. "I'll want a pay rise, Dumbledore!"

They set off, and I stumbled back into the house. Back to Hogwarts! It would be a pleasure not to have to keep moving from Muggle house to Muggle houe, though I'd miss this nice place. I began gathering all my boxes with a sweep of my wand.

Back to Hogwarts! Back to the days of teaching young minds, the secrets of brewing potions, the joy of concoctions. I'd heard that Severus Snape was teaching potions now. The middle-aged scowl-faced bat! Ah, how lovely it would be to see him, Lily's old heartthrob.

And Lily! The halls where she'd ran, the Great Hall where she'd eaten the delicacies of house-elf cooking, the times when she was innocent.

I was so swept up in thought of Lily that I half-expected her to hiss behind me, "Professor! I need to know what ingredient can be substituted for Augurey feathers in the Dreamless Sleep Potion!"