It was said that Professor Dumbledore had not hired young teachers, fearing that they were not experienced enough. I believe that he had had some reason to behave like that, and I must admit that losing such an outstanding man was a major blow for the magical (and not only magical) world. I remember that I cried at least for a week after those terrible happenings...

Yes, yes, I remember everything perfectly. I was in my third year when all of it happened. I knew that we were going to face some turbulent times, even though many of the older students tried to calm us down. I was very thankful for their support, since they were like older siblings to us... though, they treated us a bit as if we were children. We were thirteen back then, not three, and we could understand well enough what death was. After all, some of us had already experienced losing someone close to us.

But that was not what I was supposed to talk about.

It was said that Professor Dumbledore had not hired young teachers – and although his death was a great loss for us, it opened the door for me. The door that led to the career that would not be possible for me during his tenure.

When I started my job at Hogwarts, I was just twenty. I had graduated just two years before and my parents were convinced that I would start some job in the Muggle world. Or maybe that I was going to continue my education amongst other young Muggles. Maybe I should have done that – it would definitely be less dangerous for me than staying in the magical world...

However, I could not – or maybe did not want – to cut myself away from the world that had been my home for the past several years. It was much easier for me to live amongst the magical people than Muggles. And I did not want to work in a bank or an office. And yet, despite all of the leaflets I had got in my fifth year to read, I still did not know what I wanted to do.

For the last years at Hogwarts I had been studying a lot... maybe because I had chosen too manysubjects for my N.E.W.T.s. The teachers had warned me that it would be difficult... that it might turn out to be unnecessary... and after the school, despite my good grades, I was so much like that fifteen-year-old sitting in Ravenclaw Tower, staring at the faboulously colourful, moving brochures, but still not knowing what to do.

The idea to become a teacher appeared out of nowhere, honestly. I had already started my job in a local shop, trying to get back to the normality of the Muggle life... it was hard to get used to it. I could not use magic, and things that until now had been so easy to me, now turned out to be difficult. For example, spreading the goods on the shelves. And yet, just a little motion of my wrist would be enough...!

I managed to stay there just a year. Then, there were a library and a flower shop. In the end, I decided that I needed to get back to my kin... to the wizards. I could not live in a world that had once used to be a normal one to me.

The first place I thought of was Hogwarts. My home. Because even the house I lived with my parents was not my real home. Just this one school let me feel safe and loved, exactly the feelings I had always wanted to surround me. Maybe that was when that desire was born. The deisre to get back to those wonderful corridors, to the secret passages, to the armours and disappearing-step staircases...

I have no idea what made me take a piece of paper and write that letter. The teachers could still remember me as one of the students, so I did not have to be concerned to accept a stranger. Nevertheless, I decided to attach a list of my N.E.W.T.s grades, just in case someone would be hesitant about it... and deciding that it was better to try and fail than regret it all my life, I put the letter into my owl's beak and she flew out through the open window, straight into the darkness of the night.

I got the response a couple of days later, bering the very same signature with twists that had once, many years before, invited me to attend the Hogwarts school. I felt the same excitement I had felt back then... I remember laughing like a madwoman. I, Darcie Shirley, got that job! Professor McGonagall asked me to join her for an interview... but according to what she had written in the letter, the school really needed some fresh blood.

My heart was beating like crazy. Not thinking much, I just gathered my things and having said goodbye to my parents so in a moment I was already sitting in the Knight Bus, clenching my fingers on the bag.

I wondered who I would meet there. I knew that some of the teachers that had once taught me stayed, but some of them had already left because of their age or maybe their health condition. From what I knew, Neville Longbottom who was just a couple of years older than me, the very same who was the classmate of the famous Harry Potter, now was the Herbology teacher. Professor McGonagall no longer taught Transfiguration, but she stayed at school as the headmistress, and some other student, who had graduated when I had been in my second or third year, had taken the vacancy after Professor Slughorn and started teaching Potions.

I had a feeling that Hogwarts would be a completely new place. Different than the one I had always known... and yet, it was still my home, no matter what. And with the same excitement with which I had used to get back after the summer holidays, I was now heading to meet the headmistress.

I have no idea what I felt when I got to know who I was going to be from then on. Happiness? For sure. I knew I had got back home, and this time, forever. And it had not been that sure two years before. On the other hand, had I not hoped for something more than just teaching History of Magic? I still remembered myself that everyone hated those hours spent with Professor Binns in the stuffy room...

Nevertheless, when I was leaving the headmistress' office, I felt motivated, like back then, when I had been preparing for my exams. More and more often did I realise that I was planning lessons in my head... that I was wondering how to make the classes – which had always been associated with boredom – become something the students would attend with pleasure. Something they would discuss on the corridors, after the lessons...

Call me stupid and naive, but that was what I really counted on.

And even now, preparing for my first classes, I felt that I might actually do it.

It was a funny thing that I, standing behind the lectern, I was not much older than they were. I remembered perfectly what it was like to sit where they were sitting... the classroom had seemed to be so little, so crowded... but right now, from this new perspective, from which I was looking at them as a teacher, it was huge. And the number of people gathered inside simply took my breath away.

Yes. I was supposed to start talking to those countless fifteen-year-olds. It terrified me to no end.

"Good morning," I spoke finally, and my own voice felt strange in my mouth. It was so... squeaky. "My name is Aubrianna Shirley, and from now on I will be your History of Magic teacher."

I jeard an outburst of laugh. I knew that it was caused by my name; that was the reason why I usually used my middle name... but nevertheless, I was called Aubrianna. Well, I assumed that for the students I would be Professor Shirley.

And yet, it still hurt.

"What is so amusing?" I asked, hoping that the tone of my voice was not too bitter, as I looked around the classroom to find that jester. I noticed him – he sat in the corner of the room, and on his chest, there was a Slytherin badge. So he was a Slytherin... nothing had changed there, even though the staff was so different than the one I remembered.

I took a deep breath and narrowed my eyes. Just in case, I put my wand aside and approached the boy, looking down at him.

Ha! The boy! This boy was just a couple of years younger than me... and he still seemed to be taller. Nevertheless, I decided not to get baffled, even when he stood up when I told him to – and now, it was him looking down at me.

"Your name...?"

"Marcus... Marcus Stillwater," he introduced himself in a quite cheeky, arrogant tone I so often heard in the Slytherins' voices.

I curled my hands into fists to calm down. I managed to do it to the degree where when I spoke my voice sounded just the way it should.

"So, Mister Sillwater... please tell me, what was so funny to you?"

I have no idea how long it had taken. However, the whole lesson, even though it lasted just an hour, seemed to be forever. When the group left the classroom, I slumped down onto the chair and hid my face in hands.

I was under the impression that my whole plan of becoming a teacher who could make the classes, which seemed to be boring, interesting was now ruined. I had just become the most obnoxious beak of all... I could see that in the eyes of the students that had been looking at me. I knew that it would only take a while before they found some unpleasant nickname for me.

Like back then... I remember we had Herbology classes with Slytherins. One of them really hated me because of my name and my looks. Sometimes he laughed at me that I was for sure one of the Weasleys... because I was a ginger with green eyes and my face was covered with freckles. There was one difference: my nose was not long, and I was definitely shorter than the Weasleys that attended Hogwarts when I was there.

And although calling me a Weasley was not unpleasant, the fact that I was often called other names was not that nice. For example a squirrel or sometimes a carrot. I always tried to change my looks, but no matter how much I tried and how hard I studied, I had never managed to master this branch of Transfiguration.

The noise of the students entering the classroom brought me out of my thoughts back to the real life. With the back of my hand I wiped away the tears from my eyes and with relief I realised that now I was about to have a lesson with the first years.

Still, the whole day seemed to last longer than any other.

I was physically exhausted when I headed to the Great Hall for dinner. I did not even think about the way the teaching staff would accept me... because the previous night, during the welcome feast there had not been enough time to talk. Right now, though, I had to get used to my new life there.

The teachers who worked with me now, were my family from now on – just like before, when I had been a student, the whole Ravenclaw had been my family. Right now, though, the age difference was much bigger... and I had a strange feeling that no-one really trusted me. Only Neville sent a hesitant smile to me, and I smiled back. Well, he was almost the same age as me, and I think that during our school days we talked a little bit. Just a casual acquaintance.

When I stood up and started walking back to my room, I felt someone's hand on my shoulder. I was quite surprised as I turned back to check who it was, but it was just Neville.

"Don't worry," he said in a quite cheerful tone. "They are not that bad."

I smiled softly and nodded my head. That strange lump in my throat that had been disturbing me since the first classes that day, now was gone. I took a deep breath.

"Darcie Shirley," I introduced myself, deciding not to mention my first name. Especially not after all that had happened during the first lesson that day. I did not want to cause another outburst of laughter.

"I know," he replied, and his face lit up even more. "I talked with you during our school days... do you remember? You were in your first year... you forgot to jump over the disappearing step in the staircase between the fifth and the sixth floor... I always forget about it. I pulled you out."

I laughed sincerely. He was right! Now, as he reminded me about it, I realised that something like that had really taken place. And it was nice to know that amongst all those people there was someone who knew me, even if just a bit. Someone who was not hostile.

That was why when I lay in my bed that evening I kept smiling to myself. Maybe that day had not been that bad in the end...