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J.K Rowling went out one day so I took her characters out to play.
We ran around, they laughed with glee,
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Monday morning saw the rain clouds still heavy over the cliffs of Hogwarts. The dampness seemed to seep in through the ancient walls and left a chill in the air.

Getting out of bed, Phaelan took one look outside and decided against a morning jog. Instead, she resorted to the simplest method she had found to satisfy her need to exercise; a skipping rope. It was cheap, portable and it took up very little space. She slipped on her trainers and set herself twenty minutes of rigorous jumping. After bathing with Snape's potion again, she went to breakfast.

"Morning all," Phaelan cheerfully greeted the staff gathered around the table in the Great Hall.

"Good Morning," replied the others, in one form or other.

"Here you are Phaelan." Madam Pomfrey placed a phial of green potion in front of her, "Take ten drops every morning until you become accustomed to the magical energy around you. I'll test you now and again to see if it's working."

"Thank you Poppy but if I have to go through that same rigmarole again, I'd sooner pass," stated Phaelan acerbically, to the amused titter of their colleagues around the table.

The Mediwitch was not amused," I'm only doing my job, Miss McKenzie. It is, of course your decision whether or not to heed my advice," She replied curtly.

Seeking to mend fences quickly, Phaelan clarified. "Poppy, I'm very grateful for your care and I concede your knowledge. Surely there is some other method to determine the state of my health other than, than..." Phaelan didn't know how to describe her ordeal so as not to further offend the woman further.

"Making you look like a pomegranate on parade?" interjected Madam Hooch before munching on her toast. This set the table off on another round of laughter.

In the end, Madam Pomfrey conceded the humour of the situation and promised no more showers of red dye, unless absolutely necessary.

After discussing it with Minerva, Phaelan decided to spend the day studying and making notes in the staff room. She even convinced her guardian professor that she could use the library safely and promised to stay away from the Restricted Section.

Shortly before dinner, Snape and Dumbledore arrived back at the castle. They had spent their day arguing budgets at the Ministry and neither was in the best of moods, after they had barely gotten enough to cover salaries and basic supplies. It seemed an increase in fees would be called for; something they were loath to do. Some of the families, like the Weasley's, could barely afford the existing costs let alone cover more.

Snape decided to head to the staff room instead of his dungeons. The nether regions of the castle were always cold, but there would have been no fires lit in his quarters all day, since he had been out.

Entering the room, he had thought it deserted but then noticed the soles of a pair of trainers hanging over the back of an easy chair. Snape walked over and looked to see who was sat so strangely. He might have known.

"Miss McKenzie, one normally presents ones posterior to the part of the chair on which your back is currently resting and ones feet are usually placed on the floor. Is this some Muggle ritual I am not familiar with?" asked Snape, assuming his most haughty demeanour, allowing his eyebrow to ascend to alarming heights.

Placing the book she had been reading on her belly, she looked up to the stern visage of Severus Snape.

"Hey! You're back. How'd it go?" she asked, before taking a bite of the Golden delicious apple she had kept from lunch.

"If you're going to have a conversation, can you at least assume the same orientation to the room as your partner?" Snape snorted.

"Sure," she replied and flipped her legs over her head backwards, offering Snape another view of her tattoo.

Coming to her feet, Phaelan followed Snape to sit at opposite sides of the fireplace.

"Why were you sitting like that?" he asked, "Not very...lady like, I'd say." Snape looked across at Phaelan's casual posture.

"Good for the circulation," she replied, "You know; let the blood flow to the brain and all that." Phaelan finished her apple.

"Hmm." was his only response.

"So, how did your budget conference go?" Phaelan asked.

"Not good." he scowled. "The ministry seems to think the school runs on magic alone." He glanced over at her slight smirk. "Stop that, you know better."

"You know, the Headmaster is right. Your society really is no different from mine fundamentally." Phaelan commented sadly. "School boards are constantly under funded but the pet projects of politicians always seem to find the resources required." Snape nodded in reply.

The pair sat quietly staring into the fireplace lost in their own thoughts. Shortly, the other staff members began to arrive before dinner.

"So, Headmaster, what are we going to do about the replacement of training brooms?" asked Madam Hooch as she entered the room with Dumbledore. "It's not really fair to ask all the first years to provide their own until they have proven some skill. The ministry requires we give only rudimentary instruction, which only needs the most basic of apparatus."

"I understand your concern Rolanda; give me an inventory of what we have on hand and our requirements. Perhaps we might negotiate a discount of some kind." suggested Dumbledore.

"I can do that, Albus. My main concern is the safety of using old stock. You know what bad charms can do to a broom over time. I'd hate to see anyone else hurt like Longbottom was his first year, or worse." Hooch finished her statement with a stern look at her boss. He nodded in understanding.

"If I may, Headmaster, what are your sources of funding besides the Ministry and fees?" asked a naïve Phaelan.

"Well, our Board of Governors has a fund which can be used and there is of course the generosity of old pupils and their families." offered Dumbledore. "Unfortunately, the moneys are usually earmarked for some pet project of the donor, like Quidditch brooms." At the latter comment, the Headmaster looked over at Snape who well remembered the brooms bought by Lucius Malfoy a few years previously. The head of Slytherin, cringing inwardly, looked anywhere but at his colleagues.

"What do schools do in America, Phaelan?" asked Minerva.

Phaelan pursed her lips, "Depends, I suppose. The schools run by the state are funded through taxation dollars. They're usually chronically under funded and in some cases the standards for scholarship are appallingly low." she observed.

"Then there are schools organized by some religious or special interest group. They may get some government funding, but they are supported by the groups who sponsored them and are exclusive to only the children of the members who fund the group." She shook her head, remembering some tragic instances of cults abusing children in their charge.

"Then of course there are the private schools for the very affluent, who can afford absurdly high fees." again she shook her head, "The cost of the schooling, unfortunately, does not guarantee a high standard of achievement, though some are outstanding."

"Sounds as though they're as bad off as we are." observed Hooch.

"Well, there is one thing Americans do quite well and that is try to find solutions from the people in the community affected." Phaelan advised.

"What kind of solutions?" asked Flitwick.

"People in the less affluent communities try to find ways to raise funds. They include everyone, even the children. The ideas are frequently quite inventive and often fun." Phaelan harkened back to her college dorm days of raising funds for charity.

Dumbledore got a look on his face familiar to his veteran staff. He had begun to plan.

"What kind of activities did they think of Phaelan? I mean, they are Muggles. There's nothing that a Muggle community could offer us in the way of an idea." The old man smiled.

Four heads looked up at the same time. Here was Albus Dumbledore in action, reeling in another unwitting participant for his plans. They all tried to get Phaelan's attention, but she was lost in thought and Dumbledore had blocked her view of his staff.

"Well, I don't know Headmaster. There are a lot of things we did in college, that your students would probably enjoy doing, while raising funds for the school." Phaelan was feeling quite smug, for now.

"Such as?" prompted the Headmaster.

"Oh, lets see," she began, "The girls always love a fashion show. You get local clothing stores to loan outfits to show and in return, the store gets free advertising. The school sells tickets to the parents and community for the gala. Then you can get vendors to sell refreshments at the event and they kick back a percentage of their profit."

Her memories kept digging her hole ever deeper. "An auction is always fun. Get your local stores and alumni to donate things or services for the students to bid on. The whole idea is to get the successful bidders into the store to pick up their merchandise; then entice them and their friends to buy things. Kids always have disposable funds, especially rich kids. Even teachers can offer something, like coaching in a special interest or sport." Phaelan didn't see the old mans smile growing.

"Oh, my favourite; dress down days. Your school has uniforms. So, for a small fee, the students can get to dress in casual clothes once each month, on a Friday say, with a pass saying they have paid." She was on a downhill roll. The other teachers hung their heads in pity.

"For the adults in the school and community, if it's legal of course, you could have 50/50 draws for money. Half to the winner and ....half .....to ....the.....schooollll....." Phaelan stopped and looked at the beaming face of Albus Dumbledore.

"Phaelan, my dear, you are a treasure." Dumbledore reached out and took her hand.

"I am so pleased you have taken the initiative to become our first fund raising co-ordinator. Speaking on behalf of my staff, I can assure you we will assist you in every way we can. Just tell us what to do and we shall follow your lead."

Patting her hand, the Headmaster turned to the rest of the room. "Isn't this wonderful my friends? I do so enjoy it, when my teachers show such leadership. I say, isn't that the dinner gong?" Dumbledore was first out the door to head towards the great hall.

Phaelan sat stunned. She really hadn't seen it coming. The bloody, old, twinkling bastard had put one over on her.

"Don't feel bad my dear, he's done it to all of us at one time or another." Professor Sprout cast Phaelan a look of pity.

"Indeed; sometimes more than once." Professor Flitwick patted her hand, as he and Sprout left for dinner following the other staff members.

Phaelan looked over at Snape. He cocked an eyebrow and shook his head.

"Hook, line and sinker, I believe is the Muggle term, is it not?" Snape quipped.

"Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck!" exclaimed Phaelan, as she beat her head with her book.

Severus walked over and took her elbow to lead her to dinner, drawing her up before him. "Don't beat yourself up too badly. He really is a conniving prick under all that goodness and light." At her look he continued. "How else do you think he talked us into hiring you?"

"I thought you had the final veto on my position, Professor Shape. You're the one who saw my inner self after all." breathed Phaelan, standing close to Snape. Close enough to be conscious of his scent. Musk and herbal tones, combined with his own sweat. She continued to look into his eyes, again feeling drawn to the twin dark pools.

Severus became aware of their closeness, feeling the warmth of her body radiate against him.

He searched her face looking for guile, but found only her open assessment of him. This was a new experience for the Head of Slytherin.

Allowing a rare smile to escape, Severus replied, "Yes, I could have said no to you and today you would have no memory of us." He reached up to capture a stray strand of hair, raising it up to smell the scent of the soap he had made.

"If I had done that, I would have denied the person that I am. " He was still staring into her eyes. "We are a kind, Phaelan, you and I. The kind no one will admit to needing, but search out to perform the things that others are loath to think of. I was selfish. I wanted you here for me." Tilting his head to one side, he asked, "Does that scare you; that a man would seek you to stay, because you are the Muggle embodiment of his soul?"

Phaelan wanted to reach out and beg for his touch but she knew the time was wrong. There was too much unsaid and they had not yet found their common ground.

"I would do anything to stay here. Not for you, but for me. I feel a part of your world but I don't know my place. If that sounds self serving, then what you say is true. We are a kind." Phaelan reached out to touch Snape's free hand. "Help me find my place, Severus."

Snape took her hand and raise it to his lips for a caress.

"Come, we should go, you know how they gossip." Snape decided as he led her to the door.

Phaelan held his hand until they reached the Great Hall. Letting go, Phaelan looked over to let him know it was not finished between them.

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After dinner, Phaelan, Severus, Flitwick and Dumbledore retired to the Headmaster's office. The conversation over coffee had turned to the book Phaelan had been reading that day, about the qualities of magic. She had become confused while reading the chapters concerning how a spell was formed.

It was clear that charms and spells were energy and matter being manipulated. It was also clear, to Phaelan at least, that there was some kind of conversion taking place that would release potential energy. In all her research to date, she had seen no study done to measure the potential energy loss or indeed, to measure the type and quantity of energy used in the casting of a spell or charm.

Professor Flitwick, though small and jovial, was a scholar. All the teachers respected his knowledge. In fact, he was one of the few people Snape would condescend to be civil to, which was the same as admitting high esteem from the Potions Master.

The small man sat thoughtfully in a chair suited to his size, quietly sipping cognac, while contemplating Phaelan's theories.

"There was a study conducted in Vienna several years ago, to analyze the structure of levitating spells. I believe they were looking for a way to increase the load bearing strength and longevity of commercial traffic loads. I don't believe there was actually any measurement done. It was trial and error, of what worked and what didn't." offered Flitwick.

"Don't you apply scientific method to your studies professor's?" Phaelan was surprised. The staff here appeared to be professionals and she had made the assumption that the logic applied in Muggle sciences, was the norm here.

"Much of the magic that we take for granted today, was once kept closely guarded. New spells and charms were passed from generation to generation within the same family." Dumbledore was interested in her perspective and so fed her the missing pieces from her book. "Hogwarts, and the other schools, were revolutionary in the idea of sharing knowledge and classifying magic by type."

"If I may, Headmaster, Potions was always a logical and ordered study." Snape interjected. "While potions formulae were guarded by the Masters, the study required logical and methodical records to be kept."

"Can we do some experiments, to see if I can measure something?" requested the curious Muggle.

"How would you accomplish this?" wondered Flitwick.

"I need to go to an electronics store to get some meters." she advised.

"Anything electrical will not work at Hogwarts, Phaelan. I told you that." scowled Snape.

"What I need does not use electricity, only measure it." corrected Phaelan. "Will you take me?"

Looking around at his expectant colleagues, Snape knew he was outnumbered. "Yes, I suppose I must," he conceded.

"Good, we'll go later this week." rising from her seat, Phaelan took her leave. "Good night gentlemen, I have experiments to devise."

The men sat back in their chairs wondering what they had gotten themselves into.

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Harry usually woke first in the mornings since his friend had arrived. Pushing himself up, he looked over at Ron. Whatever else might be said of him, Ron was not a pretty sight in the morning. They had watched TV and Videos all night. Ron had still been watching on the set in the bedroom, when Harry had fallen asleep.

"Ron," Harry called his somnolent roommate, "Ron, wake up." He walked over and began to shake Ron's shoulder.

Ron rolled on to his back and grabbed Harry's shoulders. "Why don't you love me, Jenny? I'm not a smart man, but I know what love is."

Shoving his friend away, Harry jumped back. "Bloody hell Ron, watch who you're grabbing. You're going to give people the wrong idea about us."

"Sorry mate. Those movies are pretty intense." Ron sat up, rubbing his hand through his hair.

What time is it, Harry?" Ron had to work today.

"Just gone 7; you get ready and I'll do breakfast." Harry was laughing to himself as he went to the kitchen to start a fry up.

Hermione had called the previous evening and they had set a date to be a foursome on Saturday, after Ron finished work. There was a club that catered to underage teens and Hermione had agreed to pick them up at Harry's house to go.

Smiling to himself, Harry thought about being with Ginny, sans parents, sans teachers sans other big brothers. He'd been waiting for a chance to let her know how he felt. Now he might have a chance.

Ron was less subtle. He said he didn't care if they made it to the club or not, as long as he could spend time with Hermione. The red head had fallen totally and madly for Hermione, this past year. Although Hermione had told him firmly that he was perfect the way he was, Ron wanted to prove he could be someone and had taken the job.

Walking into the kitchen, Ron opened his pay book. He had budgeted for everything, and had taken to bringing lunch from home to save money during the week.

"How much do you figure I need to convert mate? You know, for the club." asked Ron.

"Four or Five galleons I should think." answered Harry. "Look Ron, why don't I loan you the money for now and you can pay me back at the end of the summer. I give a better rate than Gringotts." He laughed.

"I appreciate it Harry, but I want to do this right for Hermione. She deserves it." Ron closed the book as Harry came to the table with breakfast.

"Ron, Hermione doesn't care about money like that. Just show her your true feelings. You know she can always figure us out."

Harry looked at Ron. He had always envied the warm and welcoming family Ron had, but had come to realize everyone had their own challenges in life to overcome. Ron thought he needed money to make someone happy. He didn't realize yet, that money wouldn't keep you safe and warm on scary, cold nights. Harry had learned that lesson very early.

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"Hermione, wake up! Let's not waste the day. Look it's sunny." Ginny had pounced on the bed where her friend was sleeping.

"Ginny, the window faces East; it's still early. Go back to bed." Hermione rolled over ready to doze off again.

"No it's not, Hermione. Your parents are up already. Come on!" an excited Ginny began to pull the covers off the tousled head of Hermione.

Hermione surrendered, "Okay, OKay." She sat up and yawned. Looking at her alarm clock she noticed they had not turned it to the correct time after turning off the electrical power in the house. In order for Mrs Weasley to transform the beds safely, Hermione's father had turned the power off at the main. They didn't need another power surge to take out the fuses through out the house again.

"You use the bathroom first Ginny," Hermione offered, "I'll go see mum and dad before they leave."

"Okay," agreed Ginny watching her friend head downstairs. Opening her bag, she pulled out her journal and jewel case. She found her special knife and took both it and the journal to the bathroom; time to talk to Tom.

Heading downstairs, Hermione greeted her parents.

"What are you two up to today?" inquired Susan.

"We're going to the leisure pool today. I met up with Clive Patterson and Ralla Mafoud." Hermione was talking about friends from her primary school days.

"They are working as lifeguards at the pool and invited us. Well, invited Ginny. I just get to go along." remarked Hermione.

"Nonsense," Geoffrey stated. "You're as pretty as any girl in town." He stood and kissed his daughter on the cheek.

"Are you ready Susan?" he called, getting ready to leave.

"Coming dear. Hermione, can you start dinner this evening? That is, unless it interferes with your social life?" Susan observed. The girls had been out almost every evening since Ginny arrived.

"No problem mum, I want an evening home." Hermione kissed her mom goodbye.

Hermione and Ginny had argued a couple of times about going out. Not to mention, Ginny had eyes for every Muggle boy she met. Hermione had needed to threaten Ginny of her returning to the Burrow, if they weren't home by Hermione's parent's curfew.

"Which one do you think Hermione, the one piece thong or the string bikini?" Ginny had entered the kitchen wearing the one piece. Hermione was thankful her parents had left. If they had seen Ginny, Hermione doubted they would have let the two girls go to the pool.

"Where did you get these, Ginny?" Hermione was surprised at Ginny's wardrobe.

"My mums sewing charms," she replied, "So which one?"

Hermione sighed. 'Maybe, this was not such a good idea after all.' She thought.

"Ginny, it doesn't matter, you'll have the guys chasing you regardless," observed Hermione.

"I know; it's fun isn't it?" laughed Ginny.

"No, Ginny, it's not. I thought you and Harry had something of an understanding." snapped Hermione.

"Well Harry's not here." Ginny snapped back. "I'll wear the one piece." she decided.

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Minerva and Phaelan made arrangements to floo to Phaelan's flat in London. Phaelan had not shared her real reason to go back to her flat. After Snape's revelation, she felt the need for personal protection. While military personnel were required to go through customs, the search was usually perfunctory. Counting on this, Phaelan had packed a few personal weapons left over from her days in Dark Ops. This is what she sought to bring back.

"Wow!" Phaelan was stunned as she stepped out of her fireplace into her living room. "This is so cool." She stood with a silly grin on her face, waiting for her elder colleague to join her.

The flames turned green once more and Minerva stepped through to join Phaelan. Dusting herself off, Minerva looked around the bright modern flat.

"Phaelan, I had not imagined." exclaimed the older woman, as she approached the windows. "Such a lovely view; your father had good taste in locations I'd say." Minerva commented as she turned to take in the rest of the room.

"Yeh, dad had great taste in a lot of things. He thought it would guarantee his success if everything was politically and socially correct in his life." She shrugged at the look Minerva gave her. "I guess he was right in a way."

Phaelan remembered the man who came home after she was in bed and left before she was allowed downstairs in the morning. The man, who would strut around proudly at the garden parties; where Phaelan was shown off like a piece of valuable china; who would show up for photo ops, when she was victorious in the skating competitions. The man whose sperm created her and whose person ignored her existence, outside of his need to prove his ability to breed.

Shaking off her mood Phaelan turned to her computer.

"Professor, come and try this. It's a wonderful research tool. I wish we had one or two at the castle." Phaelan turned on the hard drive and waited till the system booted up.

The Professor, ever curious, approached the Muggle contraption.

"Is this one of those computeds?" asked Minerva, nervously grasping her broach.

"Computer." corrected Phaelan. "Yes it is. Sit down and I'll show you how it works."

"Is it safe for a witch to use?" Minerva was hesitant to handle anything so blatantly un-magical. She had heard stories of explosions and fires started when witches and wizards came in contact with Muggle technology.

"From what my limited studies indicate, you would only have a problem if you tried to cast a spell or curse on it." Phaelan had managed to seat Minerva in front of the screen. "That would cause a massive power surge through the system and at a minimum, wreck the hard drive."

"All right, how do I start?' asked the older witch.

For the next half an hour Phaelan coached the witch on the basics of the computer and how to search the internet. Standing up, Phaelan watched as her student became entranced by the ability of the machine to do her bidding.

Taking the opportunity Minerva's distraction offered, Phaelan made her way into the bedroom. Under the bed, she kept a special case containing her weapons. The knives issued to operatives who couldn't set off metal detectors in their travels were made from space age ceramic. They were ultra sharp and never blunted. There were even cruder weapons, a garrotte, a spring loaded baton and a special mould used to shape and hold ice. Frozen water made an adequate weapon if wielded correctly and left almost no trace afterwards. Finally, she found her hand gun made from special plastics and ammunition.

Packing everything into a sports bag, Phaelan made her way back to the living room. Minerva was still enthralled by the internet and had found a druid's website.

"Minerva, have you ever tasted a drink called a Margarita?" asked Phaelan, "It's from Mexico."

"I can't say I have Phaelan, but then again I may have and just forgotten." Minerva answered.

"Do the women in the castle ever have girls nights?" asked Phaelan, who was looking for a little fun.

"Well occasionally we'll have a night of whist or we'll arrange a Sunday tea, no men allowed. Is that what you mean?" Minerva wondered what Phaelan was up to.

"I was thinking, since I'm the new kid on the block so to speak, that it would be nice if I hosted a small reception for the Ladies of the castle. What do you think?"

"It might be fun." smiled Minerva "When?"

"How about next Friday night?" Phaelan suggested.

"Sounds like fun." Minerva grinned. Looking at her watch, the Professor decided it was time to return.

Packing 2 bottles of Tequila, a bottle of rum, 2 large bottles of Pepsi and a bottle of good scotch into a second bag, Phaelan went to the living room to check her mail and ended up throwing it in her bag as well.

"So, what kind of reception were you planning, Phaelan?" wondered Minerva as she watched the young woman shut down the computer.

"I thought the theme could be Meet and Make-merry over Marvellous Margarita's." Phaelan held her hand up and moved it left to right as though designing a marquee banner.

She looked sideways at Minerva who stood with her hand over her mouth. Both women burst into laughter at the same time.

"That is the worst alliteration I've heard in many a year lass, but by the Gods it sounds like fun." Minerva sputtered as she reached over to grab Phaelan's arm.

Just before they prepared to step into the fireplace to return to the castle, Minerva turned to Phaelan and said, "I know one thing for sure, this will bring out Trelawney. She's always ready for good booze up, especially if it's at someone else's expense."

Professor McGonagall threw the floo powder down and called out the location and password for Hogwarts. Thinking about what Minerva had said, Phaelan grabbed her bags and followed her.

A/N "Why don't you love me, Jenny? I'm not a smart man, but I know what love is." - A Quote from the movie Forest Gump.