Professor

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1st September 1995, Hogwarts (Earth 2)

(Harry Potter POV)

Harry Potter had a lousy Summer, starting when one of his fellow students was murdered by someone whose life he had spared the year before, fucking Wormtail, and then Harry himself was tortured and was played with by the man who had killed his parents, a man who had fully come back from the dead and was probably planning his painful death. Harry had barely escaped his supposed execution due to a fluke of wand magic of all things.

But that wasn't enough, no, he was also sent back to Privet Drive, a place that felt more like a prison than a home, now that he had found a real home for himself in Hogwarts. Still, his friends ignored him, he was kept in the dark until he was attacked by two dementors, in a muggle street of all things. He ended up driving them away, before being assigned a hearing in front of the entire Wizengamot. Seriously, did these people have nothing to do but watch as the Minister for Magic tried to attack a teenager without any evidence or investigation into the matter at all. Thank Merlin that Dumbledore was able to get him out of it, or he would have probably ended up in Azkaban. He didn't know how it would happen but considering that the Ministry had sent Hagrid there during his second year, because they had to 'be seen doing something', was more than proof enough that Fudge was more than willing to send anything he found troublesome to Azkaban without so much as a hearing.

Still, at least he got to stay at Grimmauld place after his attack. The time he spent with Sirius was God sent, for both him and his godfather. Harry could tell that the man was feeling just as cooped up as his godson did, but whenever they spent time together, talking about pranks he and his friends did, about Quidditch, about life, really, they both felt at peace, even if it was for a brief moment.

Still, all things considered, Harry was happy to get back to Hogwarts. He would miss Sirius, that's for sure, but he wouldn't miss Walburga Black's constant screaming, Kreature's racist sociopathic mutterings, or the constant surveillance he was under from the Order; Mrs. Weasley kept trying to get him to work and clean one infestation after another, keeping him occupied. It was very grating to be treated like a child when he was never afforded the luxury during his actual childhood.

Still, there was a reason the sorting Hat wanted Harry in Slytherin, and that wasn't solely because of Harry's ambitions of not being alone. Harry had to learn how to survive. How to trick the Dursleys, without them even realizing it, so that he could eat or sleep. Harry Potter was a very cunning little boy, who had to fight for every scrap he got. He suppressed that for the last few years, and he will keep doing so, because everyone around him was so innocent, so impressionable, that he would scare them half to death with the things going on in his head.

Even right now, sitting at the Gryffindor table, waiting for the damn sorting to finish so that he could actually eat, he was doing his best not to strangle Ron for eating a few snacks like a pig. The woes of having friends. Harry didn't know if he regretted doing so. On one hand, they provided a safe place for him to share his feelings, to confide in them, to not be alone anymore, but Ron's temper and short-sightedness added on to Hermione's condescension was very difficult to handle. Still they were his best friends, but Harry's anger was close to erupting. Ever since Cedric's death, Harry was always angry for some reason, it was odd, and Harry didn't trust himself not to actually blow up on his friends in exasperation.

Still, Harry sighed, trying to calm himself, this wasn't the time or the place to get angry for seemingly no reason.

"Mate, you alright? You've been staring at your plate for the last ten minutes."

Harry turned around and was met with a familiar Ginger who was proudly wearing his prefect badge. Harry didn't know why the boy had one in the first place. While Harry had been slightly jealous of him when he got it, he quickly realized that the responsibilities that being a prefect entailed were far more than whatever perks they offered. It was frankly a waste of time, time that Harry wanted to use productively for the first time since he started his schooling. Voldemort had played with him, and while Harry had no illusions that he could actually beat the bastard in a straight fight, he would take as many of his servants with him to the grave, just to spite the man.

After all, Harry stopped fearing death a very long time ago.

Harry noticed that the food had been served when he was day dreaming. He shook his head and answered his best friend's question, "I'm alright, just lost in thought," he then looked at the Professor's table. There was an empty seat there, probably for the new DADA teacher. Had the curse already killed this one? Harry thought to himself sarcastically.

He spoke to his two friends, "Do you guys have any ideas who our Defense teacher is this year?"

Hermione shook her head, but Ron nodded, "Heard Dad talk about it with Mum. It was supposed to be some sort kind of ministry woman, Fudge's undersecretary I think, but Dumbledore found someone in the last minute, some powerful bloke or something. He wants to recruit him to the order but he's not sure yet. Apparently, he's really strong though, should be interesting."

Harry nodded and suddenly, the great hall's doors opened with a bang, revealing a beautiful pale woman with black hair and glowing green eyes. They seemed familiar somehow, like he had seen them before in a dream or something. Who was that? Was she a seventh year that he'd never seen?

Everyone stopped eating and was looking at the mystery woman, Professors and students alike. Dumbledore had raised his eyebrows and McGonagall looked furious, last time she looked like that, she had given him a week's detention after he had a fight with Snape during class. This wasn't a look he wanted to be on the receiving end of, "Professor Sayre, you're late!"

Wait a minute, the woman was a professor. Wasn't she too young to be a professor? She didn't even look older than Tonks and he could never imagine Tonks acting like a proper teacher. Although, the strongest reaction was surprisingly from Slytherin house, who had raised their heads the second McGonagall had said the woman's name. Was she famous or something?

The woman just shrugged and answered with a serious tone, "I'm sorry I'm late. I was planning on coming early, I swear, but then I got lost on the road of life on my way here, as one does, but after I found my way back, a black cat crossed my path, so I had to take the long way round. And then I met this little old lady who needed help carrying groceries, so I had to help her."

Wait what? Did she seriously say this? Harry tried to suppress his laughter, he really did, but he never expected this. It wasn't even that funny, it was more the tone and the fact that this Professor Sayre had said such bullshit with a straight face to McGonagall of all people.

Harry wasn't the only one who had burst into laughter. Slowly but surely, everyone registered what their new professor had said and started giggling uncontrollably. Ron was on the floor laughing next to Fred and George, even Hermione, while trying to look disapproving, had a small smile on her face.

The transfiguration professor was practically gaping and had started spluttering at the audacity of the woman and the chuckling Dumbledore had spared her the embarrassment and chosen to answer the woman, "while I can understand losing oneself to the mysterious and wonderful road that is life, a lot of students have cats as their familiars or pets, if one tried to avoid all of them, then nothing would get done. Additionally, I can say with absolute confidence that there are no 'old ladies carrying groceries' in the castle."

The woman looked pensive, "I can understand the logic with the cats. Although that particular cat was a very evil one. As dark as the night itself, with eyes more sinister than a dementor's, filled with malice and hate, reveling in suffering. Perhaps it was a dementor cat, or perhaps it was a shadow of a cat, perhaps it doesn't matter either way, we might never know. The old lady on the other hand, was quite present. Though, I didn't mention that she was in a painting. Quite the conversationalist, this woman. She has so much gossip to share. To avoid further problems, I'll do my best to try and keep whatever conversations I have with any paintings to a minimum during school hours. One gets very easily distracted; don't you think so, Headmaster?"

The great hall burst into laughter once more, and Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling in mirth. There was some sort of message that had been transmitted between them and Dumbledore was obviously pleased with the result. Still the woman was hilarious, and Harry could hear Fred and George proclaim their undying love for the new Professor.

Professor Sayre ended up smiling back at him and walking up to the table to sit down. Soon after, Dumbledore stood up for his usual yearly speech, "Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg for a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices. First years ought to know that the forest on the grounds is out of bounds to students and a few of our older students ought to know by now too. Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four hundred and sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch's office door.

"We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor GrubblyPlank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Jasmine Sayre, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. The Quidditch tryouts will be occurring in two weeks' time, for more information check your common rooms, where the exact dates will be posted in the next couple of days. Finally, Professor Sayre expressed some interest in restarting the dueling club alongside Professor Flitwick, if you are interested in joining, feel free to tell either of them before the end of the month, after which, club memberships could be easily denied by the teacher. That is for all clubs, for more information, feel free to speak with Madam Hooch who is responsible for the arrangement of all extracurricular activities and clubs. Alright, I have kept you here long enough, I'm sure your prefects will be more than enough to answer most questions but it's time to go to bed."

Harry recognized the dismissal and so did everyone else, since they started packing out. Harry was still puzzled by something, he asked Hermione, "Why do you think the Slytherins reacted like that when they heard Professor Sayre's name?"

The girl looked at him incredulously, "Seriously? Do you ever read at all Harry?" she responded with that condescending tone of hers that made him want to curse her, "the Sayre family is one of the founding families of Ilvermorny, the best magical school in America."

Harry tilted his head, "It's impressive and all, but it shouldn't be that big of a deal here, right?"

Hermione snorted, "If it was any other founder, no one would care, but the Sayre family is rumored to be descendants of Salazar Slytherin, as well. Apparently, they had escaped from Britain for some reason. I don't know exactly why, but they were hunted by the main family here in Britain, they were presumed to have gone extinct over a hundred years ago. I'll have to read up on it more, but it's a big deal. It means that if that woman really is a Sayre, then Voldemort's claims of being the Heir of Slytherin, can be contested."

Wow, that was a big deal. Holy shit, why would the woman come to Britain now of all times? Does she have a death wish? Harry ignored Hermione's exclamation to taking the first years to their dorms, he went to his bed alone, ignoring Seamus' angry gaze, ignoring him completely. Normally, he would have lashed out, angry with Voldemort, with Dumbledore, with Ron, with Hermione, with the world, with himself, but all he could think of was the woman with the hauntingly familiar emerald green eyes, his mother's eyes, his eyes. He needed to get to the bottom of this.