—————A—————

"It's too bad for you, Rory," Ron said, piling his plate with food. "Both your parents teaching."

"You do realize this means Hermione is our professor," Harry hissed, leaning toward Ron, trying to keep his voice low.

It was amusing to watch the color drain from Weasley's face, the reality of the person he used to copy off of not two years before suddenly the one doing the marking.

"Bloody hell," he said, looking at his plate. Aurora imagined it would take a lot to ruin Ron's appetite, but she figured that this was as close as he would ever get.

"It can't be that bad," Ginny said.

"She used to write extra for essays for fun," Harry recalled. "She is where she is because she used a thing to take more classes," he said this much more quietly, lest they draw attention from those around them not in the know. "It's gonna be bad."

"At least we'll learn something," Neville said, trying to sound optimistic. "We know she's really experienced, and she encouraged you to continue the DA last year, so there's that."

"You're all just worried she's going to be like my dad," Aurora noted with a chuckle. "You're afraid she's going to be the Dungeon Bat II."

"Well," Ron said, looking up at the head table. "Might be so. Just have to wait it out, I guess."

Aurora glanced over at her parents, seeing a spark of joy in her father's eye for the first time since she had become a student. She noted his gaze darting to the Ravenclaw table, and she followed it to see Leo sitting with Luna, looking shyer than she'd ever seen him as two other firsties were making conversation with him.

She smiled, hoping beyond anything that Leo would have a far better first year than she had.

—————H—————

She was nervous. No doubt about it, Hermione Jean Snape was terrified of walking into her first afternoon class. The first of the day, first years, was relatively easy. Even with Leo there, she didn't think anything of it. Nor did she think much of her second year Gryffindor/Slytherin class. But this, this was something she was not prepared for. Because two or twenty years ago, they were her peers. This should have been her year, her class, and she was shaking.

She took a deep breath and walked into the room. It fell silent. Her teaching robes, which were a pair of Severus' transfigured to fit her, fluttered instead of billowed as she walked down the steps to the front of the room. Her hair, changed by age and pregnancy, was pulled back into a sensible knot. Her face, older, wiser, was stoic. Some may be able to see Hermione Granger beneath it all, but there would always be the shadow of doubt for those who didn't know the truth.

She ignored her once-friends where they sat together in the front row. She could nearly smell the fear coming from Ronald, terrified as he was about the prospect of her in charge of setting essays. That part, admittedly, was kind of funny.

Hermione stood in front of the blackboard and turned to the class. Immediately, she noticed a couple Slytherins not bothering to pay attention. Crabbe and Goyle, Nott (though that may be because of the task he had before him), Bulstrode. The others looked at her curiously.

"Who can tell me who the Darkest wizard of all time was before Tom Riddle?" she asked. At the frowns and confusion, she amended, "You-Know-Who."

"Er, Grindleward?" Lavender Brown said.

"Grindelwald, correct. But before him?" No one answered. "Before him was Godelot, and before him, Emeric the Evil. You will note, should you read up on these names, that the further back in history we go, the tamer the 'greatest Dark' seems to become. Can anyone tell me why?" Once more, silence. "Because the Dark Arts evolve. They're fluid, ever-changing. Once we think we have mastered them, tamed them, found a way to counter every curse, they shift to something we don't know, something we don't expect. This is why we have a Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Not just to learn how to defend ourselves, but to understand what the Dark Arts are at their core. Now, I'm going to use a throwback to one of my own lessons from my days at Hogwarts. How many of you have jinxed someone?"

Unlike her fifth year, there was no shyness in the crowd. Some even raised their hands proudly.

"Excellent. Now, I would like you to lower your hands... thank you. Now raise them if you think the Dark Arts are... strictly bad."

This was where there was a clear divide. A small amount of Slytherins raised their hands, where only Harry and Dean from Gryffindor kept their hands down.

"Did you know a jinx is actually considered a Dark spell?" she asked the class.

"But Professor Snape!" Parvati protested.

"Ah, let's fix that now, shall we?" Hermione interrupted. "Before there's any sort of confusion, I want you to refer to me as Professor H."

"Why not your maiden name?" Lavender asked, narrowing her eyes.

Hermione snapped her eyes to Lavender's, using her Occlumency to seem cold, allowing a slight sneer to come to her lips. "I refuse to use my former name," she said, leaving it simply at that.

Should the children of Death Eaters mention her to them, it would come across exactly as she'd played it for nearly two decades: while Granger was an old name, it was tainted by the tie to the McGonagalls and she wanted nothing of her past life associated with her and Severus.

"Professor H.," Parvati tried again. "A jinx is not the same as a curse or a hex."

"You're correct Miss Patil, it is not. But it is a spell created with the intent to harm, used with the intent to at least embarrass, and often causes some sort of discomfort. A slicing hex can remove a limb or cut fabric. It's not meant to be a Dark spell, it wasn't created to be one, but it is. Because its intent can be changed and can cause harm."

"So, you're saying we're all going to turn Dark," Lavender said.

"Going to turn?" Pansy scoffed. "I heard what you did to Janice Morris in Hufflepuff because she looked at Weasley at his brother's shop. You're more than halfway there."

Lavender turned a deep shade of red, a mix of embarrassment and rage. "I have no idea what you're talking about, you—"

Hermione casually raised her wand and shot off a loud bang, causing the class to yelp and startle. She waited for everyone to settle, watching impassively as they all looked at her with apprehension.

"Let it be known that there will be no name-calling in this class. No taunting. No pointing out who you might think is light or Dark. Mr. Potter, our supposed savior of the wizarding world, is sitting close to Mr. Malfoy, who is Slytherin and pure-blood. Your house does not dictate the type of witch or wizard you will become. You were sorted at eleven, based on qualities that are part of your core. But remember, ambitious does not mean hostile, brave does not mean honorable, loyalty is not always a good thing, and wit does not mean intelligent. Just look at your Professor Lockhart."

That earned a few chuckles.

"How de ya know Lockhart?" Seamus asked suspiciously.

"I am Professor Snape's wife. I have met all the staff that have come through Hogwarts. And Professor Lockhart made it his business that everyone know who he was. Now, please turn to page two hundred and nine. Read that one page, and then we will discuss why we have the Dark Arts classifications that we do."

—————A—————

"I never thought I'd say this," Ron said as they all sat for lunch, "but I like that class."

"Have a crush on your teacher?" Draco asked, sitting at the Gryffindor table between Harry and Aurora. He got a couple odd looks, but for the most part, no one seemed bothered by it. In fact, Aurora noticed it encouraged Parvati and Lavender to sit at the Ravenclaw table with Padma.

"Shove it, Malfoy." Ron scowled. "We've been through this already."

"So, what's she like?" Aurora asked. "Is she strict like my father or...?"

"Scary," Ron emphasized.

"She's much more intense," Draco agreed. "Where your dad is sharp-tongued and sneers a lot, your mother is... cool. She seems to do everything with an air of calm."

"Except when you bring up her name," Harry recalled. "She didn't like that one bit."

Aurora pulled out her wand to cast a Muffliato around them. It was a bit buzzy, but it would do.

"It's because of her cover," she explained.

"Blimey, is everyone in your family a double agent?" Ginny asked.

"No, I remember Hermione telling me about this," Harry said. "She was adopted by Professor McGonagall's brother and his wife, and she took their name. Granger... was her pure-blood link. I guess there was some old Potions Master named Granger. Anyway, because the McGonagalls were half-bloods, and the one that adopted her married a Muggle-born, she pretended she was glad to be rid of them."

"Like Uncle Severus shed his Muggle heritage, she shed her Muggle-loving family," Draco said.

"Not to mention I think everyone would know who she was if we called her Professor Granger," Neville said. "She doesn't look that different, right? Rory looks a bit like her mum, most would just assume that's why she looks familiar. Call her Granger, and it's game over."

"Which would cause a lot of trouble for my dad."

"And you," Draco pointed out.

"And Leo," Aurora reminded them, looking over at her brother, who was at the end of his table, head bent over a book. "I wonder how he's doing?"

—————L—————

Hogwarts sucked. Not that he, Leonidas Snape, would ever use that word out loud, but it sucked! Weren't Hufflepuffs supposed to be nice? Why did they tease him in class? Oh, right, because it turned out that while he was a potions wiz, an Occlumency Master before the age of eleven, and a walking textbook, he was... awkward. And if that were his only problem, he could have dealt with it. But in his attempt to show the snickering idiots that he was superior to them in every way... he exploded his feather. How did he screw up a Wingardium Leviosa? Oh, right, he wanted to do it wandlessly. Like his fifth-year sister. Because Merlin forbid he not be equal to her.

He didn't need to read his textbook. Like his parents, his retention level was nearly eidetic. But he also knew that there was no way anyone would dare taunt or torment him here in the Great Hall where both his parents, his sister, and Draco were.

Brave? Ha! No, he wasn't brave like his father. Certainly not enough to be in Gryffindor like his mother and sister. And apparently not nearly cunning enough to be in Slytherin like his father, his ambition lacking as well.

But right now, he didn't feel he belonged in Ravenclaw, either.

He didn't belong anywhere. Not here, not Muggle school. Nowhere.

With a heavy sigh, Leo turned his page, staring at nothing, wishing he had a Time-Turner to get a fresh start. Like Mum had.

—————A—————

"And how was everyone's first week?" her mother asked as they all sat down for dinner in her parents' private quarters. And wasn't that something to get used to? It had been a very long time since they'd all lived together in the castle. Since before Leo was born, unless one counted the week after his birth. And it seemed that Hogwarts, sentient as it was, knew her mother had declined the normal quarters reserved for the Defense teacher, and had expanded the living and kitchen areas of her father's quarters to make room for her.

The house-elves still provided the meals. And how could she possibly blame her mother for letting them spoil all of them with a good meal during family dinner? Sure, Aurora watched her mother cringe just a fraction at how eager the elf declared itself "at their service," but her mother wasn't the best of cooks and, well...

"I hate it here," Leo said, and Aurora whipped around to look at her brother with concern.

"Hate it?" her father asked. "Why?"

"Because I don't belong! The bloody hat made a mistake, and now I look like a fool," Leo snapped, and Aurora shrunk back just a bit when his glare was met by her father's.

"Leonidas, the sorting hat does not make mistakes. And you've been complaining about not belonging in Muggle school for ages. Now, what happened? Is someone bothering you?" The last bit was asked coldly, and Aurora remembered all too well what it was like her first few months.

"Not—not really." He shrugged. "A few of the Hufflepuffs taunted me, but I scowled at them like you do and they stopped."

Aurora snorted, then laughed when she pictured it in her head.

"It's not funny, Rory!" Leo snapped.

"But it is! You realize they're probably more afraid of you now? As in, maybe they were idiots and forgot who your father was until you did that?"

"But I have no friends!" Leo yelled.

"I didn't have any friends here at first, either," Hermione said, and Aurora looked at her mum. She shrugged, shaking her head. "Ask your father, I was a terrible know-it-all. I was determined to prove I belonged here by reciting everything I knew. I felt superior when I out-performed peers who came from wizarding families, but it didn't make me very likable."

"No one in this family had an easy first few months," her dad said, and Aurora could only nod. "Give yourself time, Leonidas. And stop trying to show off. Yes, you're a smart and gifted young wizard, and you could probably give a few of the dunderheads in your sister's year a run for their Galleons. But you have to stop showing off. It'll only make things worse."

"Yes, Dad," Leo conceded, looking thoughtfully at his chicken and potatoes.

"And you, Rory?" her mother asked.

She shrugged. "Not much to report. Except, well, Harry's holding Quidditch tryouts next week."

As her mother said, "Absolutely not!" her father asked, "Beater or Chaser?"

Leo perked up as their parents had a stare down.

"By all means, ladies first," he conceded.

"Quidditch is dangerous! She could get hurt, or worse."

"She faced down a dozen Death Eaters with six of her friends," he reminded her.

"She returned injured."

"For argument's sake, that was actually Luna's fault, and it was an accident," Aurora interjected.

"It'll take away from your studies," her mother tried again.

"Aurora is top of her year, Hermione, she hardly needs to worry about that," Severus said. Her mother's brow furrowed, and she seemed to be grasping at straws. Aurora smirked when her father chuckled. "There's a war going on, dear. There are worse things than a broken arm. Besides, she needs to make the team first."

"I was more or less thinking of a broken neck, but I suppose you're right." Aurora grinned as her mother sighed in defeat.

"The odds of Rory getting badly hurt during a Quidditch game are really very low. The only real injury during a game in the last twenty years was Harry Potter when Rory first started, and I think it ended up being a house-elf, didn't it?"

"Yes, Leo, you're right."

Their mother heaved another heavy sigh.

"You nervous?" Ginny asked as they made their way to the pitch, brooms in hand.

"Suppose," Aurora replied. "I mean, yes, because I want to be on the team, and I know Harry won't play favorites. And I want to get on just to make Mum a bit more nervous. But I'm not, because I bloody well know I can fly circles around most of our housemates, and then there are those heading up without brooms."

"Yeah, feel a bit bad for them," Ginny cringed. "I mean, it's not like anyone would want to fly one of the school brooms in a Quidditch match. Just asking for an injury there."

"Obviously," Aurora chuckled.

Ginny let out a long, slow breath, stepping just a bit closer to Aurora as they made their way up. "We'll be great," she said, squaring her shoulders, lifting her chin. "We can out-fly Ron, and he's been Keeper for the last year."

"We'll absolutely do brilliantly," Aurora conceded.

They joined the rest of the massive crowd already forming on the pitch, which looked comprised of at least half the house.

"All right, groups of ten, we'll do the flying first. Once I see which of you can fly, then we move on to team positions. Remember, the only position not open is Seeker," Harry called out.

Aurora looked up and around, noting there weren't that many people in the stands. She breathed a little easier, shaking off the tension in her shoulders. Flying was easy, and she knew she and Ginny had nothing to worry about.

"You two ready?" Ron asked, looking much paler than normal.

"Of course we are," Ginny said with confidence. "Aren't you?"

Harry whistled. "Okay, group up, get ready. Each time I blow the whistle, a group will take off."

It was actually quite sad how a few of the half dozen or so groups didn't get off the ground. There was an entire group without brooms, hoping that Harry wouldn't call them up to the sky until after another had landed so they could borrow one. There were also a lot of first years who, unfortunately, hadn't learned how to fly and promptly crashed. It was as that group went up that Aurora looked over her shoulder at the stands again and found her entire family. The entire family. Not just her parents, her brother, Draco, and Aunt Min, but Gramma Delia and Oliver.

No pressure, Harry, just your former captain and now professional Quidditch player in the stands.

"Is Luna wearing a lion on her head?" Ginny asked.

"I think she is," Aurora agreed. And then Harry blew the whistle and their group was next.

She, Ginny, Ron, and Katie Bell were the clear leaders of their group, so she wasn't surprised when Harry told them to stand aside with the others moving on to the next phase.

"Blimey, what's Oliver doing here?" Ron said, huffing a bit.

"He's family," Aurora said. " I'm willing to bet Aunt Min told my gram about this. And she must've told Ollie."

"Wait, hold up," Ginny said. "Oliver is related to Professor McGonagall?"

Aurora nodded. "He's her nephew. His dad, her brother, was killed by Death Eaters when he was a baby, and my gram sort of went into hiding. She met and married a pureblood in Ireland, and he adopted Ollie. Couldn't have kids of his own, so..."

"Hey," Ginny said, grabbing Aurora's wrist. "What are you flying as?"

"Beater," she replied. "Harry's seen me enough in pick-up games to know how I am as a Chaser. Figured I'd play it risky."

"Good luck." Ginny nodded.

"Okay, divvy up," Harry called. "I'm going to charm your shirts to decide your team, black and white. Best players will be on the team."

Aurora got on her broom, flying over to grab the Bludger bat Harry was levitating above his head. She adjusted her grip, took a breath, and centered herself.

She was a Snape, and weren't they supposed to be known to be a little less than friendly? Wouldn't smashing a ball at the opposing team be an excellent way to work out that aggression?

Mental pep talk eased her nerves, and a feeling of cool determination washed over her. It must have had an effect, because when she looked over at her fellow Beater, he flinched visibly. It made her smirk, and when Harry blew the whistle to start the game, she was off.