Year Five - Chapter Twelve

A replacement professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts, on such a short notice, would have normally been difficult to find. It wasn't merely due to the fact that there was one such wizard willing to take up the post for the reminder of the year, one who, in turn, made Severus Snape's hatred rise to such unfathomable levels even I could do little but suffer silently the increase in loathing and spite the man seemed to emit.

For Sirius Black had come to Hogwarts, willing to teach, but unable to do much more than give points to the Gryffindor and take them away from the Slytherin. While this did strike a strange balance between the professors and their classes, the end result was that I had my arms around a sniffling pair of second years, trying my hardest to console them both.

"Now, now," I said with a sigh, "They're both not that bad, they just reiterate a vicious cycle that will end only once I get around to destroying the Hogwarts' House system."

"P-Professor Black called me a sniveling snake," the second year sniffled.

"P-Professor Snape said I was a horrible dork and a waste of cauldron space," the other second year whined.

I rolled my eyes and rubbed their heads, before looking at the other students waiting for their turns. I hoped they were waiting to ask me questions, and not because they wanted hugs. I was here to explain and help, not hug and cuddle.

By the time the two calmed down and left with some sweets in their hands, courtesy of my sweet-dealers, I watched the next student walk forward nervously. This was a Hufflepuff, a third year judging by the height, and he stammered out some troubles about a Transfiguration homework he couldn't manage. I directed him to the much needed book, and then desperately wondered what the other Prefects were doing.

I knew the Slytherin ones were useless, basically glorified cardboard paper, but the others should have, at least, done something.

Why wasn't the Hufflepuff going to Headboy Cedric Diggory, for example?

"He's busy with his girlfriend," another student would say.

I grumbled. Stupid teenagers and their desires of playing rather than working. First comes duty, then comes more duty, and finally comes work, and only afterwards do you get your break! Work! Work! Work!

My only free time came from my Hogsmeade weekends, and those I spent working at the Hog's Head inn for two reasons. The first, I didn't wish to birth a new filth plague, and the second was that Aberforth had gotten so used to having me work in his stead that the place would literally collapse without me manning the counter.

Thus there I spent my Hogsmeade weekends, enjoying the tranquil air of the village, the students coming and going, the veritable crowd of witches and wizards glad that I was back and the unfortunate realization that I actually needed some time to get studying for the OWLs myself.

"This is going to take a real turn for the worse when the exams come around," I muttered, flipping through the pages of the Herbology book as I tried to memorize Aconite's main properties. At the same time, a wizard asked for a Butterbeer and I sent one his way, moving my fingers to ensure he'd receive it floating.

I closed my eyes as I repeated the lines I was trying to memorize. When I opened them again, a few new guests had come in.

"All around me are familiar places, familiar faces," I hummed as I closed the book and put it away. "What can I get you?"

"We'd like our friend to come with us and enjoy a bit of Hogsmeade's pre-Christmas cheer," Amanda said happily.

"I'd like a double dose of Shade, to bring out," Megan answered with a giggle.

"I'll be fine with the usual hot chocolate, with side-dish of friend," Wayne instead pointed out, winking in my direction.

I snickered at that, "All right," I said. "Fellows! I'm heading out! Aberforth, the counter's yours!"

As if animated by some kind of invisible force, more than half the customers paid swiftly and then left in a hurry. I left with my trio of friends, my breath leaving trails of haze behind me as I walked across the snow-covered paths of Hogsmeade. "We should totally get some early Christmas gifts bought," Amanda said, excitedly. "We need to get something that marks all of us as friends, you know, something like a friendship bracelet!"

"A friendship bracelet?" I replied. "I could craft something like that." I rubbed my chin. "Maybe with a Protean charm to make it say something too. I'd need to know your favorite colors though," I continued, "And I don't think I'd get it done until the end of the year."

Megan smiled, "I'd like it pink."

"Totally want it black," Amanda said instead.

"Hazel for me," Wayne said instead.

"Very well," I answered. "But since that will have to wait until after the OWLs and whatever else there is that they'll send our way, what about for the upcoming Christmas? Earmuffs? Scarfs? Socks?"

We ended up discussing the potential gifts we'd like to receive, and then we ended up drinking hot butterbeer by the rival store, much to my chagrin and Madam Rosmerta's secret amusement. The fancy witch was a pretty curvy, quite beautiful woman. She was also older than the first wizard war, having served as a barmaid for as long as James and Sirius went to Hogwarts.

This meant she was in her fifties, or her forties at being generous, and yet remained quite the beauty. Probably had something to do with the beautification creams one could buy from the local potion-maker, which I reckoned actually worked as intended.

By the counter two figures were happily enjoying recounting their school days to a much smaller third. Apparently Sirius Black and Remus Lupin were hanging out by the counter, Harry Potter in-between them. It was a strange sight, which yet warmed my heart. I supposed the boy-who-lived had also become the boy-who-was-happy.

"Scooping out the competition?" Rosmerta said, coming to get our orders from the table we had picked to sit at.

"You know I don't do that," I answered. "I'm just a part-timer, not an actual business rival."

The unspoken words were that if I were, then the shop would crumble and fall to ashes with the speed it would take for an owl to reach her suppliers with offers they couldn't refuse, an aggressive marketing campaign, and some good old firebombing made by unrepentant minors who wouldn't be trialed due to their age.

Not that I would do that sort of thing, but the theory was there, and it was a theory that all too often turned into practice. Just because someone's twelve year old, it doesn't mean they can't be paid to throw some sticky flaming bombs at someone's shop. It just means they get off without sentencing, since you can't trial minors of a certain age.

Though my smile made everything better, even when Amanda sent a gentle kick in the direction of my shins, which Mantaguard Mark Four hastily parried. "Shade! Stop eye-twinkling!" she whispered. "You know it gets you in trouble!"

"I am not eye-twinkling on command," I sighed as I said that, before ordering a coffee-syrup with warm milk and honey. "I am just a good man, doing good things, hence smiling happily at my inherent goodness of spirit."

"You petrified Malfoy for more than two hours straight from what Hermione told me," Megan said with a dry smirk. "You're never that angry when you teach us."

"I follow the good old valuable lesson of not doing onto others what I do not wish done upon myself, and at the same time, I also follow the exact opposite rule," I sighed as I said that, "I will hoist people up by their own swords, and stab them with it. If their swords lack a sharp point, nothing will happen. If they have a bite, they will be bitten back. Malfoy's mostly inoffensive, but I don't want him getting any ideas. For as long as he'll believe he is worthier than others, I'll disallow that option by forcing him to submit. The moment he stops playing at top dog, I'll gladly stop forcing him to bend his head."

I shrugged, "I'm hitting the Gryffindors with the same strength too, mind you. And there are a few Slytherins who are coming around to my way of thinking. At least, those I can get to. The older years are pretty much lost, a purge would work better than trying to talk to them by this point," I shook my head, "Not that I'd ever do something as extreme as that, mind you."

"Yeah, sure," Wayne said, strangely wary, "When you speak like that, I don't know whether you're being serious or not."

"Just like when you told Hermione not to worry, and then went straight for destroying Umbridge," Megan muttered. "And Hermione was...well, she was touched by what you did, seriously. She wanted to know what you were doing over the Christmas Holidays, maybe she wanted to invite you over as some knight in shining armor to meet her parents?"

Amanda's eyes moved at Megan's words to stare at mine, as I simply rolled them and dismissed the issue with half of a hand wave. "I'm spending Christmas at Hogwarts, or wherever the Headmaster wants to go. Might even spend it at the Hog's Head if Aberforth wants some company."

That seemed to perk Amanda up ever the slightest. "By the by," I continued, "what's your OWLs situation? Mine is utterly rubbish."

"So speaks the Wizard that will get all OWLs of his career path and become the next Merlin reborn," Wayne said with a snort and a disbelieving gaze.

"I don't think I'll be getting an OWL in Astronomy," I answered instead. "And I might pass Potions, but not to an Outstanding level."

"Well, not unless you get Professor Snape and Professor Black to make peace," Amanda said, "They hate each others, don't they? There's little that would make them agree to work together."

I furrowed my brows, and then clasped my fingers together as I stared at the back of Harry Potter.

"Actually," I said offhandedly, an unsettling smile on my face. "I do know one point they both have in common."

"Shade, you're doing it again," Megan said, "You're eye-twinkling."

"I am Shade Umbrus, and I am here to ask you a question. Is a man not entitled to the twinkling of his eyes?" I replied, "No, says Amanda, it belongs to the Quidditch Pitch. No, says Megan, it belongs to the Potions' classroom. No, says Wayne, it belongs to the glory of chocolate."

"Praise be," Wayne said with a nod, smirking all the while.

"I reject those answers," I continued, "I choose something different, I choose something impossible. I choose..." I chuckled as I said that, "to eye-twinkle to everything."

They all chuckled at that, even though they couldn't understand the reference, and probably never would.

For happiness is my body, and puns are my bones...

...thus as I pray, Unlimited Eye-Twinkling works!