Anders had finished his hasty cigarette and, feeling noticeably calmer, had slunk quietly and as unobtrusively as he could manage back into the school. Heading straight for the Great Hall, he had slid almost shyly into a seat at the Teacher's table, and was now nibbling tentatively at a plate of food, self-conscious about being sat at the top of the room where everyone could see him.

Ducking his head shyly, he concentrated very attentively on his plate and hoped that he would fade quietly into the background. He'd never been much good at doing that - 6'4" of Welshman was guaranteed to raise more than a fleeting glance.

Occasionally his gaze would lift and look around curiously, but for the most part, he was simply a silent, somewhat enigmatic figure.

As they are sitting, Niki turns to the person next to her and points up at the teacher's table. "That man's new, isn't he? The one with the really blue eyes?" She looks more closely. "Yeah, I don't recognise him..."

Winifred entered the Great Hall with most of the others and headed over to the Slytherin table. Upon hearing Niki's question, she glanced at the teacher's table. "Hm, he looks really familiar..." Winifred said softly. "He almost looks like the seeker who was tried for murder, but it couldn't be the same man...could it?"

"Who? Wait... I think I do remember! Andrew... no, Anders... It begins with a G..." Niki shakes her head. "I'm surprised," she admits. "I can't remember what his last name is, but he was found innocent a month or so ago. He's handsome, isn't he?" She grins. "Grimalkin, that's it!"

"Very handsome," Winifred replies, grinning. "So when's our next Defence Against the Dark Arts class?"

Arcadia does not say much over lunch. She spends most of the time watching <drooling? > over the new DADA Teacher.

"Did someone call me?" Andy asks as he walks over to Niki books in hand. "I heard Andrew..."

He sat down at the Slytherin table, but stood up when a couple of 6th years gave him the evil eye. The last thing he wanted to do was pick a fight. He decided to stand until he was finished the conversation.

"Hey," he said. "Did you see that new guy? Who is he?" Andy looked around to see if he could locate Anders, but he couldn't be found.

Niki laughs. "No, I didn't call. I was trying to remember our new professor's name. It's Anders, not Andrew, but confusing, isn't it?"

Nimue walks into the Great Hall and spots Niki at the Slytherin table. On her way to the Gryffindor table she stops and says: "Niki, thank you for being so understanding earlier. I feel better now that I've had a chance to just sit by myself and clear my head. I'm practically over Achel already - if Arcadia is whom he wants to be with that's his choice."

Peeves comes floating through the great hall. He pulls faces at the "firsties" at the tables and is just heading past the head table when he notices the new teacher.

"OOooooooo nasty little student! He's back! OOOooooooo I know what you did. Nasty Nasty Nasty...." He floats away again irritating a few more students on his way.

Anders stared up at Peeves in horror. "I...uh...you..." His pale face flushed bright pink with embarrassment and he sought the dusty shelves of memory in the hope of finding a spell that would cause the ground to open up and swallow him

Peeves had caused poor Anders enough grief whilst the young man had been a student at the school. Shy and introvert, he'd been a target for the Slytherin bullies from day one - which had been unusual when one considered that Anders Grimalkin had been placed in Slytherin himself.

The Sorting Hat still had nightmares about that first day. When the gawkish, awkward eleven-year old Welsh boy had put on the Hat, it had probed gently into his thoughts and been completely and utterly bewildered by what it had found. Nothing, no house seemed right. Finally, after about twenty minutes of young Anders sitting, feeling ashamed and ready to go home, the poor, exhausted and bewildered Hat had placed him in Slytherin in desperation.

Nobody, not even the Hat understood it. It was chalked down as one of the poor article of clothing's biggest errors.

Anders recalled this day as he sat there now, glaring angrily at the wall through which Peeves had just floated. Trust Peeves! As if.

**********

After nervously looking around, Joe makes his way into the very noisy Great Hall. Looking up to see the house banners, checking with a sketch on a piece of paper, Joe silently makes his way over to the Gryffindor table. Walking in stride with him is a rather large, but not plump, jet-black cat with a brilliant white patch, in the shape of a star, on his front.

Approaching the table Joe says, "Err, I'm not sure if I'm doing this right... is this chair free?" The black cat has taken a position right next Joe and meows up at him. Bending down to his cat Joe says, "Not now, you just hang out by me alright? No, no exploring."

Randal wandered into the Great hall. He had left Elia in the History of Magic Classroom, hoping she wouldn't be too offended if he actually introduced himself to someone else....

He walked over to Nimue and Niki chatting by the Slytherin table. "Hi Niki. And who is this charming creature? May I?" He picked up Nimue's hand and kissed it gently. Then he flicked his hair from his eyes where it had fallen. He winked at Niki, as if to say, that will cheer her up. He was very observant about things like that.

"I am Randal Fudge and very much pleased to meet you."

"Elizabeth Hawkwood, though I am usually called by my middle name, Nimue. Your father is Minister of Magic isn't he? Surprised we haven't met in London."

"Yes my father is the Minister of Magic. I have not spent much time at functions with my father, but I am sure I would remember such a pretty face." Randal grins at Nimue.

Nimue smiled back and excused herself from the Slytherin table with a mental note to ask her Father about the Fudge family.

Niki grins, and mouths, "Thank you!" before digging in to her meal. "Is that a poltergeist?" she asks, pointing at Peeves as he leaves the room. "We had one at our old house... Extremely irritating, he was... He liked to leave certain... intimate articles of clothing... in rather embarrassing positions."

***************

Daily Prophet - Clipping from a Month Ago

============================================

"HE'S AS GUILTY AS HELL" SEEKER RELEASED FROM AZKABAN!

THE trial ended today of the former Cardiff Chargers and Welsh International Seeker, Anders Grimalkin with a surprise verdict of 'Not Guilty'.

This reporter thought he stank so much of guilt you could smell him coming a mile off.

However, who am I to argue with the authorities? And this newspaper is, of course, TOTALLY impartial. Not.

Grimalkin (23), was placed in custody at Azkaban eight months ago to the day following the now infamous incident at the Wales vs. Norway match where Grimalkin apparently dived at the Norwegian Beater, Olaf Petersen for no apparent reason, causing both men to plummet to the ground.

As is well documented, Petersen died on impact. Grimalkin, however, escaped with little more than two broken ribs and a blow to the side of the head that left him with apparent amnesia. The Seeker claimed at his initial questioning to have no memory of events leading up to and during the incident at all.

His trial here has lasted two weeks whilst an assorted panel of judges and jurors examined all the psychological evidence that spoke overwhelmingly in Grimalkin's favour. It would seem that despite a tendency to lose his temper if pushed too hard, Grimalkin was considered too mild to have deliberately chosen to cause this tragedy, and consequently he was granted a conditional release from Azkaban.

Sadly, we have tried (without success) to determine exactly what these conditions are, but alas, we cannot advise you. If you see him coming, we suggest going the other way very fast.

We CAN advise you, however, that in a shock move, Grimalkin has been offered the job of Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts, by this column's favourite old duffer, Albus Dumbledore.

Dumbledore is well known for pitying cases like Grimalkin. It is evident that he, and others of his ilk have been responsible for agreeing that this young Welshman, who was witnessed by thousands of Quidditch fans slamming into an innocent Norwegian, was not capable of the crime we all saw him commit.

Any questions about the wizarding world justice system should be re-directed away from this paper.

***************

Dylan came to lunch late, slinking into the Great Hall, a book clutched in his hand tightly. This morning had proven that there was no such thing as an easy ride for him, and he wasn't going to let the frog incident happen again. Hoping he went unnoticed, he slid into his place at the Gryffindor table, and propped his book open. His brow furrowed, he concentrated on the words in front of him, oblivious to the fact that he was supposed to be eating instead of working.

Yvette grinned at Dylan, her cheerful look deadening as she saw him reading the book. Books were bad....so much had happened because of them. She almost hated books. And this book was so good he was reading it instead of eating? Trouble, she was sure.

"Dylan?" She said his name, hoping to get his attention. "What're ya reading?"

"Eh?" he responded automatically before looking up. He brushed the hair out of his blue-grey eyes and flipped to the front of the book. "Arithmancy or sommat like tha'. I...I don't want t' repeat my performance from this mornin'," Dylan admitted quietly, blushing a little, and the colour looked odd in his pale face.

She nodded, ducking her head to hide the grin on her face. She managed to control it and looked back up. "Don't worry about it! You should have seen me as a first year. Peeves loved me so much I had blue hair for a week."

"Yeah, but I'm a third year now. I can't be fallin' behind...or disintegratin' frogs, not anymore," Dylan replied seriously. He quirked a brow as he looked at her. "Though I'm glad you find it amusin'." He had indeed caught the grin, and it hadn't pleased him. He wasn't about to be a laughingstock here.

"Ooh...sorry." Yvette nearly blushed. This was the *second time* in one day she'd gotten someone to take offence at what she'd done. "Have you seen the new Defence teacher?"

The slight, whether real or imagined, seemed forgotten. "No, I've not," Dylan told her, and craned his neck to get a decent look at the table where the teachers ate. His keen eyes picked out a slender chap with hair and eyes similar to his own, and Dylan almost frowned. "Who is he? Where's he from?" he asked Yvette.

Niki excuses herself for a moment, and walks over to Dylan. "Wales too," Niki replies to Dylan's' question about Anders, then grins mischievously. "You know, Dylan, you're almost as attractive as he is... What d'you think, Yvette? Est-il beau?"

Yvette laughed out loud at this, winking at Niki. "Oui, tu aimes..." She flicked her eyes to Dylan and back.

"Excuse me," Niki says, trying to ignore the stares she gets from the Gryffindors who don't think that one of their number should be fraternising with a Slytherin. "Dylan, I was wondering if maybe we could practice for Transfiguration sometime... I have a free period tomorrow before lunch...?" She feels her face getting red, and prays that Dylan will at least not be rude in his rebuttal.

"Um...," he dithered, then nodded. "I could use the practice, I s'ppose." Dylan, too felt a little put on the spot, the stares from the older Gryffindors nearly boring a hole through him. He hated being stared at, hated it more than almost anything else. But nonetheless, he tried to smile. "We'll figure out a time or sommat later, then? Don't know my schedule real well yet."

Niki smiles. "Thanks. I know I can *definitely* use the practice... We didn't do anything this hard at my old school."

"The guy's name is Anders something!" She looked at the teacher as well, sitting up straighter for a better view. "And rumour's got it..." Her voice dropped to a whisper, "He was in Azkaban!"

Niki turns to look daggers at Yvette. "Let's not talk about Azkaban," she says coldly, and returns to her seat.

Yvette sighed, mumbling something to herself about the number three.

Madison slumped into an empty seat near Dylan and Yvette and started on her lunch. *I hope everything's okay with Lee,* she thought to herself.

*He'll be back tomorrow...I guess I'll find out then...* She absently brushed her long dark hair out of her face and looked up at the others. "So, what's going on?" Spotting the book, she smiled. "Studying? Maybe you can help me out on some of my classes? Arithmancy and Astronomy...I just don't get it..."

Dylan was more than slightly mystified by all the French and Niki skulking away, but he simply shrugged and looked at Madison. "You're out o' luck wi' help from me. I'm no good at any o' this."

"The only thing I'm good at..." Yvette blushed faintly, feeling guilty, "Is Transfiguration."

Madison shrugged. "I guess I'll wait 'til Lee gets back. Thanks anyway." She lowered her voice. "What's the story on this Anders Grimalkin? I heard he was in Azkaban for killing some guy in Quidditch or something....And that he doesn't remember any of it."

She shrugged. "From what I heard, it seems like some people think he should be guilty. I'm all for him, though. If he really doesn't remember it, then you can't say it was really him that did it..." She seemed to be spacing out, but quickly brought herself back. "Anyway, other than that, he seems like a pretty cool professor. Doesn't seem like a Snape, at least. I hope nobody gives him any trouble about this..." she said, her thoughts flying to Peeves.

Ayumi had just entered the great hall, and slumped down across the way from Dylan, Niki, Madison and Yvette. "Ugh! History of Magic...might as well be History of the back of my eyelid......" She collapsed in a heap, and could've very well drifted off to sleep right there.

But all the talk about the new teacher brought her back into reality. Ayumi attentively listened as each student inserted their small knowledge, while half heartedly shoving mashed potatoes and meat into her mouth. She swallowed and added to the conversation. "Y'know, I heard rumours about him floating around just this morning. The new Defence of the Dark Arts teacher, right?" A few other students nodded. "I know I've only been here a few days, but it seems that Hogwarts has a hard time keeping their Dark Art Professors..... Is it some sort of curse? Or only a strain of bad luck?"

Noting the shocks of a fight brewing, Ayumi was quick to change the subject. "AH-hah!! Say, you guys, what's up after lunch?" She wasn't one to sit by and watch conflicts begin. "I really hope Divination is coming up....." she mumbled. "Teacups and frog just aren't my thing....."

Dylan scowled, his eyes darkening to the colour of stormclouds. "I don't know how you can do tha' stuff. Frogs t' teacups? Wha's th' point?" He felt bad for scoffing at Yvette so, but he was more than embarrassed about his own lack of ability; covering it up with bravado was the only way he knew how to deal with it. It was all he could do.

"I dunno, do I look like a Professor?" Yvette's own eyes were narrowed.

Dylan bristled, feeling the familiar tension of that moment where he either apologised and left, or picked a fight. He wasn't going to pick a fight, not here, not with a girl, especially one of his own house. Wasn't quite right, nor fair. Dylan scowled. "O' course not, don't be daft. Jus' don't understand, 'tis all," he snapped in return.

Yvette looked at him in disdain, then back at her plate. She just knew if she opened her mouth she'd be in a fight, and she'd had enough fights to last her a lifetime. She had a special talent for getting people annoyed with her. "Then don't rip my throat out for it." She replied softly.

His scowl deepened. "Don't mind me. I'm jus' a dumb Taff, I know. A Welsh idiot," he sneered. Dylan shoved his book in his back and quickly left the table, his face bright read. Quickly, he crossed and left the Great Hall, his wizarding robes billowing behind him like great stormclouds.

Yvette averted her eyes to the plate in front of her, ignoring the stares she was receiving from the suddenly quiet hall. Should she go after him and apologise? She really didn't want to get her head knocked off...and now he'd be heading to the Common Room, so there was nowhere for her to go.

"Four." She mumbled. This definitely counted as a second. She sipped some orange juice, a blush creeping up her neck.

A few moments later, a girl enters the hall. Immediately, almost all male eyes in the room are fixed on her as she saunters towards the Slytherin table. She is tall and slender in what are considered the 'right' places, and, in the words of the old saying, broad where a broad should be broad. She wears a robe that has obviously been altered to be much tighter, and it sets off her golden-brown eyes, but her hair is dark and smooth. Her mouth is set in a slight sneer as she inspects the food, but when she smiles her face is quite attractive. Her nails are long and painted blood red, and they are uncannily reminiscent of cat's claws.

"Good afternoon," she says coolly, her voice slightly throaty with a trace of an accent.

Niki, still angry with herself after her reaction to talk of Azkaban, glances at the newcomer. "Bonjour," she says, and returns to her meal.

Winifred, who had been trying very hard to listen in on the Gryffindors' conversation, looked up when this new student walked in. Winifred couldn't help but feel jealous and inferior. Her plain looks never attracted any attention. She sighed loudly. Why can't for once anybody pay any attention to *me*? She quickly finished eating and left the hall to sort out her thoughts.

The new girl raises an eyebrow as Winifred fled the hall, but says nothing. Instead, she turns to Arcadia, who she is sitting near, and smiles. "My name is Katia von und zu Drachenstein. I am joining third year classes. Are you a third year student?"

Arcadia, who had noticed the new girl's entrance was currently eating from a bag of sweets.

"Hi" She said with a smile " Yes I'm a Third Year too. Great to find someone else who cares how they look!" Then she leans over and whispers "Some of these others could do with loosing a pound or too!" She straitens up. " I LOVE what you've done with your robe! And you hair is beautiful. What do you use? I have to brush mine every morning and night to keep it so shiny"

She shakes her head slightly and her straight gold locks flow, and she takes another sweet from the bag.

"Mmm. These are SO nice. Daddy got them especially for me from Switzerland, that's where I used to be. They're special. not a calorie in them and they taste DIVINE. Would you like one? I recommend the blue ones"

She passes the bag over to Katia. "So where do you come from?"

Katia giggles, and accepts one of the blue sweets. "Vielen dank," she says with a smile. "I am from Germany." She glances down at the Hogwarts insignia on her robe. "This is the only one that Mutti's dressmaker could finish in time for me to come, but Mutti und Vater said they would send me the rest of the robes as soon as they were ready. There are some very interesting designs."

She looks around at the others. "I see what you mean about the others! And my hair? I have a book call Cosmetic Charms for the Modern Witch. It's quite helpful. So, what class do we have after this?"

Arcadia smiles. " sorry.. Oh.. Arithmancy I think. yes. We better be going." With that she starts to walk out. Still smiling.

Anders was aware of the eyes that were on him throughout lunch, and he felt awkward and uncomfortable and a little like a small wriggling thing under a microscope.

He heard the increased volume of Dylan's voice as he stormed out of the Hall, and his subconscious mind picked up the accent. A wry smile flickered across his face as he recalled another young Welsh student, several years ago, who had been much given to flouncing out in a similar manner. The Celtic blood was hot, no doubt about it.

He took a forkful of lunch and munched thoughtfully. He had no idea how he was going to progress this job. It had been sprung on him, somewhat. It was either accept Dumbledore's offer, or sit around, unemployable and miserable. He hoped he could do a good job of it, but time would tell.

His eyes rested on a small group of girls, nearly all of who were looking straight back at him. He could feel his cheeks start to burn and returned his attention to his plate again.