Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Oi!”

Fitz turned to look in the direction that his new colleague Lance Hunter was now focusing his attention. Two students, maybe third years by the looks of them, stared wide-eyed back at them for a moment before running and disappearing into the closest compartment.

“What were they doing?”

“I don’t know,” Hunter replied, shrugging. “Probably nothing. Good to keep them on their toes, though.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Fitz said.

Truthfully, he was nervous about his first year teaching at Hogwarts. It had been close to a decade since he was a student there himself, and while he certainly felt more than capable of instructing young minds in the application of Charms, being Head of Hufflepuff House seemed daunting. He hadn’t been chosen to be a prefect for good reason – he didn’t care for disciplining people unless they truly deserved it, and he wasn’t good at pretending to be intimidating. He suspected this was directly due to his father who, in the few years he had been a part of Fitz’s life, had been very intimidating and had no problem disciplining him harshly for the most minor of offenses.

Just about the only good thing Alistair Fitz had ever done was leave. Well, and pass along his magical ability to his son. The letter inviting him to Hogwarts had been quite the surprise to both him and his mother, but it turned out he excelled at magic.

But, it was his turn now to patrol the students’ cars on the Express. Hunter was already mumbling something about Bobbi Morse – the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor – as he headed towards the faculty car Fitz had just left. So, Fitz assumed the air of someone who shouldn’t be trifled with and began to stroll down the corridor.

He couldn’t help but recall, as he peeked through the occasional window to check on students, his very first ride on the train. He had been terrified, convinced the owl that had delivered his letter had made a mistake. He had a packed lunch and a suitcase full of the most economical robes and books they could find and a brand-new wand that he had been too afraid to touch since it had chosen him. No one else had paid him any attention, which was how Fitz had wanted it. He felt too close to puking to make good conversation with any of his new classmates.

Fitz furrowed his brow as he remembered that wasn’t entirely true. One student had attempted to talk to him. Jemma Simmons. The smartest student in their year, it turned out, and very pretty to boot. She had knocked on the door about ten minutes after the train had rolled out of the station, and asked if anyone was sitting in the seat across from him. Fitz couldn’t speak to strangers on a good day, let alone girls, let alone while on the way to a new school where he was going to learn magic and be away from his mum until Christmas. He had just stared at her, speechless, until she gave him a look – hurt or annoyed or both – and then kept walking.

Fitz hadn’t thought about that in years. He’d put all the memories of Jemma Simmons, his rival for top spot in all their classes throughout their time at Hogwarts, into a box in the back of his brain. For that entire train ride, Fitz had regretted his lack of a response, wondering if she could have been his friend. He had worried that he wouldn’t have any friends, and he’d gone and ruined his first chance. But it wasn’t to be. She never spoke to him again, except to correct him in front of their professors and fellow pupils. If she had accepted the prefect assignment, instead of turning it down to focus on her studies, Fitz presumed she would have taken every single House point from him that she could have.

It was just as well they didn’t become friends on the train. Everyone knew that Slytherins hated Muggle-borns, even or perhaps especially half-bloods, and so it would have all been for naught as soon as they’d been Sorted.

Fitz shook his head, clearing his mind of the pointless thoughts. He slid open a door, stepping carefully into the small space between the two train cars. He glanced out the window to the side, watching the landscape fly past. And then, he reached for the door to the next car just as someone else opened it from within and just as the train hit a rough patch of track and jolted. The witch tripped, and without thinking, Fitz threw his arms out to catch her.

It took several seconds for them to gain their footing and disentangle from each other. Fitz apologized profusely, although he wasn’t quite sure for what, and the witch in his arms seemed equally flustered. His awkwardness only grew once he recognized her.

“Simmons!” Fitz exclaimed dumbly.

She stood as tall as she could, straightening her robes with a bit of a huff. “That’s Professor Simmons to you, Mister – Fitz!”

Fitz blinked. “Professor,” was the only reply he managed.

“Huh?”

“Professor Fitz.”

She continued to stare at him. All Fitz could really think was she was as pretty as she had been the last time he saw her, if not more so, and just as haughty in her superiority. He had barely been able to complete the written portion of his N.E.W.T.s, he had been so distracted by her two seats away. She was so focused on her work, her nose practically touched her exam papers, and her hair cascaded all around her. As if she, of all people, had needed to be nervous; she had earned more top marks than anyone else their year, beating him out by a couple. And then she went off for advanced study in Russia, the last he heard, and he accepted a position with Stark Wizarding Industries, and that was that.

Until now.

“Oh,” she said, before adding, “Oh! You’re – you’re replacing Professor Coulson now that – ”

“He’s Headmaster. And you must be taking over for – ”

“Professor, well I should say, Minister Garrett.”

Not having to work alongside Professor Garrett, who had terrified him every day for seven years, was one highlight. The Ministry of Magic could have him. However, he hadn’t realized Garrett’s replacement would be equally frightening, if in a different way.

Fitz swallowed, searching for something to say. Finally, he blurted, “Can you believe Headmaster Fury retired?”

“I can’t imagine Hogwarts without him,” Simmons agreed with a small laugh, continuing the conversation rather than dismissing him and moving on. And with that, Fitz was pretty sure they broke the record for most words ever spoken to each other outside of the classroom. Ever.

Fitz stared, at a loss for what to say next, and she shifted her weight, seeming a bit self-conscious about the way he looked at her. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, and her eyes darted around wildly. A small blush rose on her cheeks, making Fitz feel even more tongue-tied, and then –

The door behind him opened. Both Fitz and Simmons jumped, turning to face the new arrival. It was a student, a prefect in his house according to her badge.

“Is everything all right?” Simmons asked quickly.

“Yes,” the girl stammered. “I’m just going on rounds. Grant Ward said I should!”

“Of course,” Simmons replied, relaxing enough to calm the student as well. She glanced at Fitz. “Grant Ward is Head Boy. He’s in my House,” she explained. “And this is one of yours, so I’ll just – let you – it was – I’ll see you at dinner, Fitz. I mean, Professor Fitz!”

Fitz didn’t have a chance to respond, with the young girl immediately launching into a greeting when she realized who he was. He barely listened, instead watching Simmons as she continued on, walking into the car he had just been in. Finally, Fitz tore his eyes away and focused on the student.

“I’m sorry? What did you say?”

She seemed uncertain. “I’m – just that I’m looking forward to your class. I like Charms a lot! Professor Cou – Headmaster Coulson has always been my favorite teacher, he looks out for me a lot, because I’m an orphan and so – but I’m sure you’ll be just as good! I’ll do my best to be a good prefect, too. This is my first year at it, so I’m not really sure about it all yet, but I think – ”

“What’s your name?” Fitz interrupted.

She paused, then looked away. She mumbled something Fitz couldn’t make out.

“Pardon?”

She heaved a breath. “Mary Sue Poots. It’s what they named me at the orphanage,” she said, her voice betraying exactly what she thought of it. “I prefer Skye. My friends call me that, but none of the professors, well, except for Headmaster Coulson, will.”

Fitz nodded in understanding. The only reason he had happily made it through school was because of the tradition to call most people besides one’s closest friends by their surnames. Otherwise, he probably would have faced a similar challenge.

“Pleased to meet you, Skye,” he replied, noting the way her eyes lit up happily. “I’m sure you’ll do just fine your first year as a prefect, but I’ll make you a deal. I’ll help you out as best as I can, if you’ll help me figure out my first year as a professor.”

“Deal!” she agreed, even as Fitz gestured towards the door. She pulled it open and Fitz held it as they both finally walked into the next car. “And you – you’ll call me Skye?”

He glanced down at her, fighting a smile. “I’ll let you in on a little secret – my first name is Leopold.”

He gave an exaggerated shudder, and Skye laughed out loud.

“They’re so tiny,” Fitz muttered. He hadn’t realized he spoke aloud until the teacher next to him quietly snorted in agreement. Fitz glanced over – then up. How had he not noticed he was sitting beside someone at least twice his size? “I suppose everyone seems tiny to you,” he observed.

The man laughed louder, meeting Fitz’s eyes. “Definitely.”

Fitz put his hand out. “Leo Fitz. Charms.”

He nodded. “Coulson’s replacement. I’m Mack. Professor Mackenzie. I teach Magical Creatures.”

“And Head of Ravenclaw, right?” And a quarter Giant, if the rumors were true, not that Fitz cared.

“That’s right, Leo.”

“Ugh,” Fitz replied automatically. “Fitz, please.”

“Pleased to meet you, Fitz.”

“Likewise,” Fitz said.

But before their conversation could continue, Coulson stood up and made his way to the lectern at the center of the dais. After gathering everyone’s attention, he said a few more words – the standard reminders and warnings and announcements Fitz remembered from his own schooldays, albeit less nerve-wracking when they came from Coulson than when Headmaster Fury would stare at them all menacingly with his one eye – and then brought forth the Sorting Hat.

Fitz listened attentively to its song, curious to hear what wisdom it might impart that year. Alas, its mentions of differences being strengths and reconciliation between Houses seemed fairly straightforward. So, he simply sat back to watch the Sorting, making special note of the Baby Puffs, as they were called back in his day, who would most likely need extra guidance during these first few weeks in particular. He smiled as he watched Skye cheer loudly and present each with the Welcome Scrolls she had made and enthusiastically told him about on the train.

His own Sorting had been one of the shorter ones. The Hat had fallen over his eyes when Fury had placed it on him, and he had started in surprise when he heard the voice whisper inside his head.

“Ah, Alistair Fitz’s son, I presume,” it had said. “Now, he was a born Slytherin, so if you’re like him – ”

I am nothing like him, Fitz had thought with a scowl, trembling on the stool with nerves and rage.

After a brief pause, the Hat continued, speaking slowly. Fitz felt almost as if it could see deep inside his soul. “No, indeed you are not. In fact, I think you best fit – HUFFLEPUFF!”

His new housemates had welcomed him with cheers and pats to his back as he sat down. Fitz had felt like he had a couple dozen friends already, which was surprising. And he had learned one thing for sure – clearly, Slytherin was not a good House to be in. He had been rather surprised when the girl from the train was finally Sorted into it after the Hat had deliberated for such a long time, it was later announced to be a school record. She hadn’t seemed that bad, but Fitz supposed you never could tell.

On one side of her, Bobbi – Professor Morse – quietly talked with Professor Hunter, who Jemma remembered as being the one whose Sorting duration time record she had broken (smashed by more than doubling it, actually). Jemma had spent almost the entire feast scandalized by the way they insulted each other and even more scandalized by the way they flirted with each other in front of the students. The rest of the dinner was spent in conversation with the professor on the other side of her, Will Daniels, who had attended Ilvermorny in his youth before moving to the United Kingdom for advanced study with Alphard Maveth, an extremely well-known astronomer. Jemma had already accepted his invitation for a tour of the Astronomy Tower so she could see all the equipment he had installed. And if she’d blushed when he emphasized that it’d be a private tour, she at least consoled herself that the innuendo hadn’t been nearly as obvious as the one Hunter had made to Bobbi over the dessert plates.

On the other side of Professors Daniels and Coulson was a very large man, Alphonso Mackenzie according to Will, and then – Fitz. Jemma hadn’t quite wrapped her mind around him being there. She had never cared for Leopold Fitz, to be honest. He was, well, rude. She had tried to be nice to him their very first day and he ignored her. His compartment had been entirely empty, and he still wouldn’t let her sit with him. And then he had spent every single day for the next seven years trying to show her up in class, never speaking to her otherwise. But she had had the last laugh when she beat him out for top spot in their class at the end.

Granted, he had seemed rather mellower on the train that day. If she wasn’t mistaken, he had even smiled at her a few times. The way he had looked at her still made her feel a bit – and that was nothing compared to the inexplicable tingles she still felt from when his arms had been around her after she fell. And hadn’t that been embarrassing? Clumsily losing her balance like that in front of Leopold Fitz, of all people.

She wondered why he had left a no-doubt lucrative job at Stark to teach at Hogwarts.

She wondered what he thought of seeing her again, after all these years.

She wondered –

He was looking back at her, his blue eyes shocking her to awareness. She hadn’t even realized she’d been staring. With a jump, Jemma faced forward, devoting all her attention back to the Sorting. She hoped none were as long as hers had been, because she certainly didn’t want to risk any more chances of being humiliated that evening.

She frowned slightly as she thought of the time she had spent on the stool. Other students later described their own experiences to her, talking about the Hat’s observations. Some had even conversed with it, while others bordered on debate or argument. Jemma had heard nothing. When the Hat was placed on her head, she had simply sighed in resignation as she waited for it to shout out Ravenclaw as it had for every other member of both sides of her family as far back as they had records.

And waited and waited and waited…

Seventeen long minutes had passed without a peep from the Hat. She could vaguely hear, beyond the fabric, impatient rustling and shocked murmurs growing louder as time seemed to crawl by. And then the Hat had shouted Slytherin to everyone’s surprise, especially Jemma’s. Once the Hat had been removed, she immediately spotted her cousins’ aghast, betrayed expressions, and then she made her way to the Slytherin table. They welcomed her with polite claps and a few formal nods. For two years, Jemma resented not being privy to the Hat’s deliberations about her future or its observations of her personality and character. It was only at the Sorting of her youngest cousin, after he ran happily to join his siblings at the Ravenclaw table, that she realized she didn’t need a magical object to tell her who she was. She decided who she was, and who she would be, like any true Slytherin.

There were thankfully no Hatstalls this year, and as soon as Zloda, Xenia, hopped off the stool and joined the Gryffindor table, Coulson faced the student body again.

“Welcome, welcome, all of you. We look forward to seeing you develop as witches and wizards and contribute to our school. I also would like you to welcome at this time your new professors.” He half-turned, nodding first at Fitz, then at Jemma, and gestured for them to stand. “Professor Fitz, Charms and Head of Hufflepuff, and Professor Simmons, Potions and Head of Slytherin. I trust you will give them the same respect and attention you give all your instructors, and I envy you for the magic you will learn from them.”

Jemma smiled at the compliment as well as the applause, even if it was half-hearted and compulsory at best. She made brief eye contact with Fitz again, then looked away quickly, choosing instead to smile at Will as he winked up at her while he clapped along with the students.