Early in her teaching career, Serafima Snape's youth seemed to invite personal questions from her students. She answered as directly and honestly as possible, hoping to stave off further questions. It never worked.

"Are you married?" -No. "Do you have kids?" -No. "Why not?" -Because I don't like children.

But one question that she got often, and didn't know how to best answer, was: "When did you know you wanted to be a professor?" Because honestly, she never did. She had only kept waking up in the morning, and kept putting one foot in front of the other, and let some choices be made for her, and somehow she had ended up teaching Potions at Hogwarts. She supposed she could be doing other things, but as her imagination was a dark place, the alternatives she dreamed up were universally worse than her current reality.

Which was saying something.

So it never occurred to her that she should put forth genuine effort into a career change. But when Daisy Evans was Sorted into Slytherin, Serafima spent a few moments wondering if she could find a job less damaging to her sense of well-being. Like prostitution.

Daisy Evans looked so much like her perfect pure-blooded mother, with her messy dark hair and slight frame. Lily Potter had been the worst kind of mean girl--the kind who could dismiss your entire existence with a look, but usually had some choice words to reinforce her theme. Casually beautiful and effortlessly intelligent, Lily was the center of the Hogwarts social circle of her year at Hogwarts, and anyone with any sense of preservation and at least one physical feature of which they could be proud--nice hair, perky tits, cute nose, anything--revolved around Lily and her gang.

Serafima obviously didn't meet the requirements to be in Lily's orbit, and had suffered accordingly.

And here was Daisy.

Daisy, who had just been Sorted into Slytherin, while Lily had been so very Gryffindor.

Serafima spent the entire Welcoming Feast staring-not-staring at Daisy Evans. The girl met her eyes once, and Serafima was struck at how the girl's eyes resembled James's.

Good, solid, gentle James Evans. Who had also been Gryffindor.

So who was Daisy Evans?

"Q-Q-Quite a s-s-s-surprise, how s-s-s-some of the s-s-s-students were s-s-s-sorted," said Quirina Quirrel, and Serafima finally looked away from Daisy Evans to study the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. The woman wore a turban and had a distinctive odor, like she didn't wear deodorant. And ate a lot of ethnic food, the kind that Serafima's father had preferred--the kind that permeated the skin with the smell of turmeric and garlic.

"Only if one had expectations," Serafima said. The other woman practically oozed incompetence, and yet there was something about her that was...familiar and slippery. Serafima had no wish to converse with the woman and hadn't trusted her from the start. She knew better than to take her concerns to Dumbledore, who wouldn't find it noteworthy that Serafima didn't trust someone.

By the time Serafima looked back towards Daisy, the girl was frowning and chatting with an older Slytherin.

:-:-:-:-:-:

Serafima met her Slytherins in the common room and gave her usual speech, warning the students about curfews and getting caught, and advising them to present their best selves to the rest of the school. When she was satisfied that she'd delivered her message (one which she'd no doubt have to repeat frequently), she immediately went to the Headmistress's office to speak to the Sorting Hat.

When Serafima first started teaching, she was stunned that none of the other teachers used the hat. After all, the hat saw into the minds of all incoming students, and was discreet enough to keep almost everything to itself--except the things that the adults in charge really should know.

On the night when the Weasley twins had been sorted into Slytherin, the hat had chuckled into Serafima's ear for ten solid minutes, before simply saying, "Good luck, then." On this night, at least, Serafima didn't have another Weasley girl to worry about; the newest arrival had been Sorted into Gryffindor.

So Serafima put the hat on her head and said, "Anything I should know about this year's crop?"

The hat sighed in reply, and Serafima kept quiet and waited for a more proper response.

Finally, the hat said, "You're usually slower to first impressions than you've been with Daisy Evans."

"I haven't drawn any conclusions about the girl yet," Serafima denied.

"Other than the fact that she reminds you of her mother."

"In looks, certainly. But you would never have put Lily Potter in Slytherin."

"Indeed, I would not."

"Is there anything I should know about her daughter?"

"An interesting question," the hat said. "There are many things you should know about her, but nothing I feel the need to tell you. Although..."

"Although what?"

"I wish you could get to know her without the specter of her mother--or even her father--coloring your opinions. You'd do well to make an effort with her."

Serafima sighed.

The hat said, "Lily Potter always had a good heart, even if she misjudged a few things. But Daisy Evans has none of her experiences or prejudices. In fact..."

"What?"

"She has much in common with you, Serafima."

Serafima's blood ran cold.

"So you can see that you must treat her with care," the hat said.

Serafima took the hat off carefully and replaced it on the shelf. Before she could leave the office, Dumbledore appeared.

Ariana Dumbledore was short, stocky, and had short-cropped white hair. She would have looked unremarkable but for her bright patchwork robes and her orange hat with yellow feathers sticking out the top. Serafima thought that Dumbledore must cultivate the dotty grandmotherly look to put others at ease, but the old woman never seemed to actively cultivate anything of the sort. Moreover, Ariana Dumbledore trusted Serafima and championed her and saved her. All of which intimidated the hell out of Serafima.

"Ah, Serafima," the old woman said. "Just the woman I wanted to see. Please, sit--I have much to discuss with you."

Serafima sighed. "Yes, of course, Headmistress," she said, and sat back down in front of Dumbledore's desk.

"I was surprised to see Miss Malfoy sorted into Gryffindor--as was Melvin McGonagall, I think," Dumbledore said.

Felina Malfoy's House was not what Dumbledore wished to discuss. Serafima would have liked to take control of the conversation--either by discussing Felina Malfoy at great length and with much detail; or by disregarding this statement altogether and bringing up Daisy Evans herself. But the headmistresses would maintain control no matter what Serafima said, so she said the thing that would shorten the conversation.

"Daisy Evans is in Slytherin," she said.

"Indeed she is," Dumbledore said. "Another blow to Melvin's expectations."

"And to yours, if I'm not much mistaken."

Dumbledore raised her eyebrows. "Not entirely a surprise, no, but I had hoped..."

Serafima stood suddenly. "My House is not the house of evil, Headmistress." She spoke crisply and quietly. "You of all people should remember that."

"But it is the house of ambition and cunning."

"Oh, of course," Serafima bit out. "And if Daisy Evans is to be our savior, you'd rather she were foolhardy and saw the world in absolutes. There's no room in this world for a hero who is subtle and perceives nuance."

"Serafima," Dumbledore said, chastising. "Sit. And convince me that you don't see Amy's influence in how Daisy was Sorted."

Serafima flinched at the familiar name Dumbledore used for the Dark Lady, but remained standing. "Do you see her influence in every Slytherin, then, Dumbledore?"

The old woman smiled. "Thank you, Serafima. That's a promising start. But you and I both know that Daisy is not any other student, no matter what House she was Sorted into."

Serafima blinked. "No, she's not," she finally said.

"You'd do well to watch over her and guide her."

"Perhaps you could do the same, even if she is in Slytherin," Serafima said, and left the headmistress's office before she got truly angry. First the hat, then the headmistress--having Daisy Evans in her House was more trouble than it was worth, and the girl had barely been inside the castle walls for three hours.

As Serafima stormed through the corridors toward the dungeons, she turned a corner and nearly ran into Melvin McGonagall, the droopy-eyed, square-jawed Head of Gryffindor House.

"Oh, Professor Snape," he said, "there you are. I've been looking for you."

"Of course you have," Serafima said. "I suppose you want to make sure I see Miss Evans for herself and not for her mother, and look out for any mark the Dark Lady may have left on her person--aside from the obvious?"

Inexplicably, Melvin smiled at this. "That's the short of it, yes, but I see others have beat me to it," he said. "I also wanted to say that I know Lily was horrible to you when you were younger, and it will be hard for you--having her daughter in your House--so if you need any help at all, let me know."

Serafima was stunned into silence, and felt her mouth open and close several times.

Melvin continued, "I still feel guilty about that, and I've said it before and I'll say it again: I didn't know the extent Lily and her friends took it at the time, and when I found out I was horrified. Helping you in any way will help to...ameliorate my guilt, I think--even if you just come around for tea." There was another short pause which Serafima didn't fill. Melvin clicked his tongue. "Also," he said, much louder than he had been moments before, "Paul is looking for you."

Paul? What could the school healer have to say about Daisy Evans? Before Serafima could ask, Melvin disappeared from the corridor.

Paul Pomfrey. Serafima felt her stomach drop. Whatever Pomfrey wanted, it couldn't be good news--even if it didn't have anything to do with Daisy Evans. Serafima went to the hospital wing and greeted the man who had ruddy cheeks and wrinkles in the corners of his eyes.

"Hullo Sera," Paul said. "I'm glad you're here--two students have already been by for Pepper-Up potion--there may be something going around already. Can you brew up a big batch, just in case?"

This was the best possible thing Paul could have said, but it still wasn't welcome. Serafima was responsible for a houseful of students, and had classes to teach tomorrow. "Can it wait until the weekend?" she asked.

"Well...possibly, but if there is a bug going around, it will be unpleasant."

Serafima scowled. "Can it wait, at least, until tomorrow evening?"

"I suppose--I know the first night back is not the best time for brewing."

"Hm," Serafima said, not willing to be gracious, even if she was grateful to have a conversation about something other than Daisy Evans. "I make no promises."

"Thanks, Sera. On another note, isn't it exciting that the Girl Who Lived is in your House?"

Serafima sighed deeply, and turned to walk away without another word.

But of course she brewed the Pepper-Up potion that night, although she ruined the first batch. She was supposed to add the orange peels when the potion was in its clear blue phase, but it seemed like she blinked and the potion was already solid black. She swore, then Vanished the lot of it and started over. It didn't matter; if she slept at all that night, she was sure to have terrible dreams.

James had died protecting that little girl. And now Serafima stood in loco parentis. In the place of James.

Miraculously, Serafima brewed the second batch of Pepper-Up perfectly.

The next day was an easy one--the first day of school was never complicated. The students were still mostly asleep, and the novelty of being back at Hogwarts hadn't worn off yet. Serafima set her classes a review potion--one that required the ingredients to be prepared at least three different ways. In theory, this was to remind the students of the critical difference between chopping and slicing, mincing and dicing, shredding and crushing. In practice, however, most students ruined their potions, even though Serafima spent the first fifteen minutes of class discussing the different preparations, and showing pictures of a potato prepared in each of the different ways.

On days like this, she just wanted to put the recipe on the board and sit at her desk with her head in her hands. But she never forgot a story that old Regina Slughorn had shared when Serafima first took the job: once, the old Potions Mistress had been hungover, and so had set her first year students to brew tea--she'd told them it was a Strengthening Solution--and one of the students still managed to melt his cauldron.

Serafima had thought the old professor was exaggerating, at first. But she knew better now. She circulated around the room, being careful not to be silent in her wanderings. (She deliberately wore hard-soled shoes that clicked on the stone floor--her first year teaching, she wore soft shoes and accidentally startled a boy into dropping an entire flask of powdered moonstone into his Scouring Solution, and ever since then, during the moon's waning quarter, her classroom reeked of vinegar.)

She consoled herself that she didn't have first years until Friday.

:-:-:-:-:-:

Daisy Evans was overwhelmed. Learning magic in a school for magic, because she was a witch--well, she tried not to think about it, because it made her freeze up. She'd done once at breakfast, when her thoughts and words and actions all got caught up in a loop of "I'M A WITCH LEARNING MAGIC IN A CASTLE," and finally, she'd somehow managed to come back to herself and she'd blinked quickly and found herself staring at a forkful of eggs that she was holding inches from her mouth. No one around her had noticed anything, so perhaps she hadn't been stuck like that for long.

For all of her wonder at learning magic, she'd actually done very little of the sort. In almost all of her classes, they'd been taking introductory notes, and learning a little bit of history. The only teacher who had them attempt to do any magic so far was Professor McGonagall, who had set them the task of transfiguring a matchstick into a needle. No one in the class had managed it, although Daisy thought that maybe her matchstick was a little shinier than when she'd started (although that may have been because of her sweaty hands)--but Professor McGonagall was not disturbed by this. "Transfiguration is notoriously difficult," he'd said. "Objects are stubborn and it takes a lot of magical force to get them to change. You will all get there." And then he'd set them all an essay for homework ("Describe Alino's method for transfiguring wood into metal").

Then there were her classmates. The first-year Slytherin girls and boys were a rather reserved lot. They seemed as uncomfortable with direct eye contact as she was herself, and other than a few mumbled pleasantries, they exchanged very few words. She liked her dorm mates well enough--Theresa Nott and Beth Zabini had quiet smiles that put Daisy at ease. Gina Goyle was also in her dorm, but even she seemed fine without Felina Malfoy and Alicia Crabbe, who had both Sorted into Gryffindor. Sam and Alex Weasley were far more outgoing, but Daisy really only saw them when they held court in the Slytherin common room in the evenings. Daisy wished that she could spend more time with more exuberant people like Ronnie, but when she saw Ronnie and the rest of the Gryffindors--mainly at mealtimes--she understood that that much exuberance would be exhausting for her.

Besides, Felina Malfoy was a Gryffindor. Daisy didn't know how Ronnie could stand it.

Daisy didn't think she'd get a chance to talk to Ronnie until Friday's Potions lesson, which they would have together, but was surprised to exit her first-ever Herbology lesson to find Ronnie and the other Gryffindors waiting to come in. Ronnie pulled her into a quick hug that was as welcome as it was unexpected.

"I've been wondering if we have to sit with our Houses at meals, or if it's just tradition," Ronnie said by way of greeting. "How are you? I've missed you!"

Daisy smiled. "I'm well, thank you. I've missed you, too."

"It's okay, though," Ronnie said. "Remember how my dad says that it's easier to get along if we don't have to share a bathroom? Being in different Houses is probably the best thing for us, if we're going to be best friends."

Daisy couldn't help the warm laughter that bubbled up in her, nor the tears that weirdly sprang into her eyes. Ronnie was definitely a Gryffindor, and Daisy definitely wasn't. Daisy had much more in common with her subdued Housemates, but Gina Goyle constantly left bottles and tubes all over the bathroom sink, and Theresa Nott left a lot of hair in the shower.

"You're right," Daisy said, and hugged Ronnie again. "I'll see you later, okay?"

"Yep--we have Potions together, did you see?"

"First thing Friday morning--I've been looking forward to it all week!"

They were interrupted by Felina Malfoy's sneering voice. "This is all very touching, but I'd prefer to not be made late by your outpouring of emotions." And before Daisy or Ronnie could think of a response, Felina had pushed her way through, with Alicia Crabbe following her and giggling.

Ronnie glared at the blond girl's back. "She is such a twat," she said.

"I can't believe you have to share a bathroom with her," Daisy said, and the two girls broke into giggles.

When Friday morning finally arrived, Daisy hurried to breakfast in the Great Hall, but didn't see Ronnie at the Gryffindor table. She ate distractedly, scanning the hall for Ronnie, but eventually gave up and walked down to the dungeon classroom alone.

She found Felina Malfoy and Alicia Crabbe already in the Potions classroom, sitting at a table in the front. Gina Goyle, who must have been walking behind Daisy, pushed around her to go sit next to them. Gina whispered something to the other two girls, who giggled and looked back at Daisy. Malfoy smirked and the three girls turned back to their table and kept whispering.

Daisy sat down miserably, at an empty table as far away from Malfoy as she could. She wasn't alone for long; Beth Zabini and David Greengrass, a Slytherin boy, sat down next to her. Beth nudged her arm and gave a little half-smile. Daisy nodded, and got her Potions book and a quill out of her bag.

But Ronnie still hadn't shown up by the time Professor Snape entered the classroom, which gave Daisy something else to worry about.

Professor Snape was terrifying. She barely raised her voice above a whisper, and even when all she did was call the roll, everyone's name suddenly sounded like a threat.

"Daisy Evans."

Daisy didn't think she imagined the pause Professor Snape put before her name, nor did she think it was her imagination that her name sounded downright viscous when it came out of the woman's mouth. "Present," Daisy squeaked.

Professor Snape narrowed her eyes at Daisy, but continued calling the roll.

"Veronica Weasley."

The silence that followed the name was oppressive. Daisy couldn't help but look around the room, but Ronnie still wasn't there.

After a pause, Felina Malfoy spoke up. "I don't think Weasley's coming, Ma'am. This morning, she said something about dirty Slytherins not worth her time." As she said the last bit, Malfoy looked over at Daisy and smirked.

Daisy sunk lower in her chair.

"Don't listen to her," Beth Zabini whispered in her ear. "That sounds more like something Malfoy would say than Weasley."

"But where is she?" Daisy whispered back.

"Evans!" Professor Snape snapped, and Daisy jumped. "Side conversations are not permitted in my classroom, unless you think you already know all there is to know about potions?"

The professor paused for a horrible moment, so Daisy said, "No, ma'am."

"Indeed. But let's make sure: what do you get when you add the powdered root of asphodel into an infusion of wormwood?"

Daisy slid her eyes toward Beth, but Professor Snape made her jump again. "Don't look to your neighbors--I asked you! Root of asphodel and wormwood--what does that make?"

"I--I don't know, ma'am." Daisy could see Malfoy looking at her in delight, and tried to ignore it.

"You don't say," Professor Snape said silkily. "What about a more basic question--where would you find a bezoar?"

A bezoar sounded like a wild pig, or maybe a sleeping wild pig, but even if that's what a bezoar was, Daisy still didn't know where to find one. She could see Malfoy whispering to Crabbe and Goyle, but forced herself to look up at Professor Snape, and looked away again quickly. "I don't know, ma'am."

"Fascinating," the woman said. "What is the difference between monkshood and Wolfsbane?"

Best to get this over with quickly, Daisy thought. "I don't know, ma'am," she said to the table. She could hear the snickers coming from Malfoy's table, and felt herself turning red. Tears prickled her eyes, but she fought them with everything she had.

Professor Snape set her hands on the table in front of Daisy, fingertips pressing down, and Daisy felt the woman leaning over her. When the professor spoke, it was almost in Daisy's hair, in a quiet voice that nevertheless carried through the classroom. "That is why you pay attention in my class. Because you are ignorant, and you are here to learn. So, listen to me: asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is called The Draught of the Living Death. A bezoar is a stone, taken from the stomach of a goat, which can counter most poisons. And monkshood and Wolfsbane are the same plant, which also goes by the name aconite." The professor straightened and looked around the classroom. "Well? Why aren't you writing this down?"

Daisy relaxed slightly as the professor moved away, but jumped again when the woman said, "Evans!"

"Yes, ma'am?" Daisy squeaked reflexively.

"Stay after class."

A tear fell down Daisy's cheek, and she hoped Malfoy hadn't seen it. "Yes, ma'am," she whispered, because her voice didn't allow for more than that.

Then Professor Snape set them a potion that could cure boils. "As underdeveloped as your magic is at this stage, you need not worry. Even a Muggle could brew this cure--it's more of a tonic than a potion."

If the professor had meant this to be reassuring, it was not. The potion was supposed to be thick and purple, and Daisy's was like greenish water. Beth Zabini's was at least purple, but was completely solid, and David Greengrass's was putting out alarming amounts of yellow steam. As Daisy looked around the room, she saw that everyone's potions were similarly bad, and Nancy Longbottom had even managed to melt her cauldron. And then Daisy saw Felina Malfoy's potion. It was maybe not quite as purple as it should have been, but it was definitely deep lavender, and was the perfect consistency. Professor Snape was just praising her work when Ronnie burst in through the classroom door.

"I'm sorry I'm late, Professor--I just woke up--I don't know what happened to my alarm--I'm sorry!"

The truth of it was written all over Ronnie. She was panting, and panicky. Her robe was on inside-out, her hair was bunched up on one side of her head, and her face was slightly puffy. Daisy could have hugged her if she wasn't so afraid of Professor Snape.

Professor Snape herself turned around slowly on the spot, seeming to glare at all the Gryffindor girls in turn, but missing Felina who sat right by her side. "What an indictment on Gryffindor morals," the professor purred. Daisy didn't even know what that meant, but by the professor's tone, it couldn't be good. "You all ignored your sleeping dorm-mate, and enjoyed your breakfast, and skipped down to your first class, confident that you, at least, were awake and ready to go."

Beth Zabini whispered in Daisy's ear: "And lied about where Weasley was, like Malfoy."

Daisy agreed but didn't dare respond. She had a feeling she knew exactly what had happened to Ronnie's alarm that morning. Felina Malfoy's face remained impassive, though several other Gryffindors burned with shame, Nancy Longbottom and Deena Thomas among them.

The professor continued, "You ignored the fact that when one of you falters, all of you look bad. Ten points from Gryffindor. Miss Weasley, you will stay after class."

"Yes, ma'am," Ronnie said, and looked desperately around the classroom. She caught Daisy's eye, and made to walk over until she saw Beth and David sitting at the same table, then appeared to make a valiant attempt to be swallowed by the floor. Daisy shrugged at her friend in commiseration just as the bell rang. She was glad both of them had to stay after class.

As the class filed out, Ronnie made her way over to Daisy, and Daisy could hear various Gryffindor girls mumbling, "Sorry, Ronnie. I thought you were just having a lie-in." Felina Malfoy was not among them.

Before Daisy and Ronnie could do more than greet each other, Professor Snape summoned them over to her desk. The girls approached slowly.

"Veronica Weasley," Snape said.

"I--er--I go by 'Ronnie,' actually."

Professor Snape glared at Ronnie, nonplussed.

"...Ma'am," Ronnie added belatedly, and bit her lip.

"You will not be late to my class again. You will get today's notes from Beth Zabini, and--"

"I can get my notes from Daisy, Ma'am."

"Miss Evans's notes were abysmal," Professor Snape said, and Daisy clenched her jaw. "You will get your notes from Miss Zabini, who took very adequate notes this morning, and you will do so before tomorrow morning at 9:00, at which time I will expect you in this classroom--"

"But tomorrow's Saturday!"

"And you have a detention, which is very generous of me because I am going to allow you the opportunity to brew today's potion for which you have earned a zero."

Ronnie didn't seem to have anything to say to that, which made Professor Snape nod. "Good," she said. "Now leave. I have something to discuss with Miss Evans."

Ronnie looked at Daisy desperately, but Daisy was far too nervous to respond. Instead she gave a tight nod, and Ronnie left somewhat reluctantly.

The door snicked shut behind Ronnie and Daisy fixed her stare on the floor. There was no sound for several long moments. Then Daisy heard the rustling of robes and felt a tingle of magic seal the room. She dared a glance up and found Professor Snape studying her.

The woman spoke, finally. "I have never liked children, Miss Evans, and I don't expect to start any time soon."

Daisy waited a beat. "Yes, ma'am. I mean, no, ma'am." She wasn't sure what she was meant to say.

"You should know, however, that Felina Malfoy's mother is very wealthy and very influential. As such, I am somewhat...beholden to her. And appearances...are important."

Daisy wasn't sure what to make of that. Her aunt and uncle had said similar things about appearances, but when they said those things, it sounded far more menacing. Ironically, this was the first thing the professor had said that didn't sound like a threat. "No one is watching now, ma'am," Daisy ventured.

"Indeed," Professor Snape said, as if Daisy had answered a question correctly.

A very long silence followed this, but Daisy felt like something in the room had shifted, and she found she wasn't afraid of Snape anymore. "May...may I leave now, ma'am?"

"Two things, before you do. First, you may come down here tomorrow morning at 9:00 to re-brew your potion, if you wish."

Daisy looked down, almost pleased. Even if it sounded like detention, she'd get to spend it with Ronnie. "And the other thing?"

"You are Slytherin. Your friend is not. If you would...explain the situation to her?"

Daisy agreed but didn't see Ronnie for the rest of the morning. This gave her plenty of time to think about what she would tell her.

During lunch, Daisy ignored all conventions and walked right over to the Gryffindor table, sitting down next to the still-bedraggled redhead.

"Hi, Daisy!" Ronnie said and pulled some of her unbrushed hair out of her face.

"Hey Ronnie," Daisy said, and dropped her voice. "Listen: Professor Snape is mental."

"What did she want to talk to you about?" Ronnie asked, in a similar low voice.

"She wanted me to explain to you that she's mental. And that I'll be there tomorrow morning to brew that potion with you."

Ronnie smiled. "That's great, Days."

"I thought so, too. Pass the potatoes?"