It was early-July, when a low-hanging sun desperately tried to warm up the little town of Hogsmeade. Calm and quiet blanketed the town this time of the year, as the nearby school had closed for the summer. It was an ordinary day in this ordinary wizarding settlement.

Yet Emma Moore's life was about to change.

She stumbled upon landing, sticking her arms to the side in a feeble attempt to regain her balance.

"Bloody hate apparition," she mumbled, straightening out her ebony robes. This mode of transportation,disappearing from one place and reappearing somewhere else, was uncomfortableat best, like being forced through a very tight rubber tube.

Just as she started walking, thick, heavy drops of rain pierced the sky. Her braided, chestnut hair was damp before she even had the chance to pull up her hood.

With a heartfelt groan, she glared at the sky and took her wand out of her pocket. She tapped the tip of her hood with it, muttering, "Impervius." While the rain continuedas vigorously as ever, the charm made her clothes repel the water.

That oughtta do it, she thought to herself. Can't arrive at a job interview soaking wet.

Despite everything she'd been through that week, she wanted to look her best today. She needed this job. Especially now.

Reaching the corner of the street, Emma glanced around, trying to figure out which way to go. She hardly recognised the place without a layer of snow on the rooftops. She'd never been to Hogsmeade during the summer. It was so much more gloomy now. Somehow the gleaming white snow always made the town look bright and lively.

Turning a full circle, she spotted the Shrieking Shack behind her. A smile danced on her lips as one memory after another pushed its way to the front of her consciousness.

Two best friends, talking for hours on end, speculating about the horrors that the Shack might conceal. Laughing when one of them suggested banshees, like they didn't have a care in the world. That laugh, his laugh, it used to warm her heart, no matter how cold it was outside.

Emma sighed, shaking the memories out of her mind. This was not the time and place. After all her hard work, this was not what she wanted to go back to.

Taking a random right, she asked herself for the hundredth time whether this was a good idea. Why did she decide to come back here? Hogwarts, of all places. Was she just fleeing from the present, trying to go back to when things were good? Had her severed relationship with Jordan really done that to her?

Emma reached into her hood and pulled the braid out, fiddling with its tip. It didn't matter. Her old friend wasn't here. She wasn't going back to the past, even if she wanted to.

The rain plummeted down as she walked by the half-illuminated shops, but the Impervius-charm did its job. She rounded a corner and let out a chuckle of relief when she finally spotted the inn. Just down the street and she'd be out of this blasted rain. As she set off for the last few feet, she wondered if Professor Dumbledore was already there.

The inn was quiet. A few old wizards sat scattered about the homey room, but most tables were empty. Madam Rosmerta stood behind the bar, cleaning glasses, and smiled when Emma walked in. It took her half a moment to realise Dumbledore must've told Rosmerta she was coming.

"Ah, there you are, Miss Moore."

Emma turned towards the gentle voice behind her, gluing the widest smile onto her face. "Professor Dumbledore! How nice to see you again."

"And you. It's delightful, hearing from an ex-student. You look well, dear." His eyes sparkled above his half-moon glasses. "Please, follow me."

Dumbledore lead her up the stairs behind the bar and into a room with nothing but a hardwood desk and a couple of leather chairs to cheer it up. He gestured for her to sit down and lit the candle on the desk with a wave of his hand. It flickered merrily, dancing in harmony with the nervous butterflies inside her stomach. He sat down opposite her and folded his hands on top of the desk.

"I read your letter," he began. "Very professional. I see I've taught you well."

Emma couldn't help but chuckle. "You certainly have, Professor."

"You'd like to apply for the post of Healing teacher, is that right?"

She nodded uncomfortably, then caught herself. Show confidence. "Yes, sir."

"You do realise that post does not currently exist?"

Her hand habitually lifted back up towards the tip of her braid. "Yes, sir."

A smile spread across his face. "I invited you here for a reason, dear. Your letter had me curious. Now, it's up to you to convince me. Why should Hogwarts teach Healing?"

Emma's chin raised. This was a question she'd expected. She'd practiced this. So why wouldn't the damned words come out? She took a deep breath.

"It is important for the students to know how to fix themselves up if something happens. Madam Pomfrey isn't always going to be around to do it for them." She stumbled over the words she'd so carefully prepared. "The amount of patients I've seen at St Mungo's who could be patched up with a simple Episkey is shameful. I believe this is something we should tackle at the root: people's education."

She held her breath, waiting for Dumbledore's response.

He nodded slowly. "A fair point..."

"I'm not asking for much," she rambled on. If he was going to turn her offer down, she'd better have said everything she came here to say. "I've seen the ads for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position over the years, I know teaching doesn't pay much. It doesn't matter to me. I just want to help those children become functioning adults. I've got the experience –"

"I know you do," Professor Dumbledore interrupted her. "I've seen some of the seminars you've lead, and I've heard nothing but wonderful stories about you. Which is why I'm wondering why you're here. Like you say, teaching doesn't pay very much. It's not as... adventurous as working in a hospital. And judging from your past experience, you haven't shown much interest in working with children before. All in all it seems like you'd be much happier back at St Mungo's."

Her heart sank. He wasn't going to hire her. She was sure of it. Her eyes flicked to her hands, as she rubbed them nervously together in her lap. St Mungo's... She'd never go back there.

"Unfortunately, I've had to leave my job at the hospital... for personal reasons. I'm looking for a change of scenery, Professor, a place to start over. Hogwarts seems like the perfect place to do that."

As silence fell, Emma couldn't bring herself to look up at her old headmaster. She'd been so hopeful when he'd invited her for an interview. If he declined her offer... She had no idea where she'd go.

"I'm here because I believe I'd be a good teacher, Professor," she added. "All my seminars and lectures have prepared me for a job like this. While I've not worked at the children's ward, that doesn't mean I never worked with children. I've always loved it. I've always felt a child on my ward was a wonderful change of pace. I'm ready to make that change permanently. I... I know what this job means, Professor. I'm not here for just a few months. I'm here to stay. If... If you'll let me."

The silence was pressing. It almost pushed the air right back out of Emma's lungs. Nerves fluttered in her stomach, making it even harder for her to breathe.

"May I ask you a rather... personal question, Miss Moore?" said Dumbledore suddenly.

She looked up curiously, but the wrinkles on his face betrayed nothing. "Of course." Whether she'd answer it, was a whole other story.

"Do you know what became of your old friend?"

Her eyebrows shot up. Her old friend? He couldn't mean... But who else? He was the only friend she'd had, apart from Lily. And she was sure he didn't mean Lily; they'd spoken at her funeral, after all. There was only one person he could be talking about.

Of course she knew what happened to him. He joined the Death Eaters. They hadn't spoken in over a decade. And after all those years, the mere memory of him still hurt like the sting of a Blast-Ended Skrewt. She couldn't ever see him again. She'd lose herself all over again. Fortunately, she'd never run into him since they broke contact. Whatever he did now, since You-Know-Who's defeat, it must've taken him far away, possibly overseas.

"Yes," she said eventually. "Yes, I do. But surely that has nothing to do with me?"

For a few seconds, he just looked at her over the rim of his glasses. His gaze tore deep into her soul, as if he was searching for something. Just as she started to wonder what exactly it was he was looking for, his lips twitched up into a smile.

"Well then," he said. "I can safely say you've convinced me of the need for a Healing teacher. I have no doubt you are competent and qualified for the job. Shall I send you an owl with the contract then?"

Emma's jaw dropped as the words registered in her brain. "Uh... W... Yes! Yes, thank you, so much! I... I promise I won't disappoint you."

Dumbledore chuckled. "You never have before, so I'm sure you won't start now." He stood up and held out his hand. "Minerva will send you all the other relevant information. Thank you for this lovely chat, Professor Moore. I will see you in August."