AN: Purely experimental and written on whim by my silly plotbunnies. Anyways, kindly disregard the sixth volume of HP as Snape teaching the Defense Against the Dark Arts would seriously maim my semi-existent plotline. Give feed back please and if it is completely horrible, I'll delete it. Lots of love, as always, in the form of chocolate.

Love to ChocolateCurlz and read her fantabulous stories!

Harry Potter, the boy who lived, was not particularly thrilled at the moment. Ron and Hermione were arguing again over another trifling subject. Most likely Ron forgot wizards couldn't Apparate within Hogwarts grounds, insulted SPEW, or did something else of equal offense. Anyways, it certainly meant Harry would have to take sides. He could already foresee the yelling in his near future and he most definitely didn't need Professor Trelawney to tell him that.

"Blimey Harry, can you believe her? She's gone mad, talking about house elves again." Ron gestured crazily, flabbergasted that Hermione hadn't gone blue yet. Apparently, her passionate speech came before oxygen and proper breathing.

Harry groaned as the bickering duo made their way to the Gryffindor table. And so another quarrel marked the beginning of a new school year. On top of worrying about Voldemort's latest scheme, which most likely involved tearing his head off or some other form of a nasty torturous death, Harry had to save Ron from Hermione. He pushed his messy hair from his eyes, "Honestly, Ron. Did you have to set her off?"

"Well she started it, asking the suit of armor if any house elves had polished his helmet." The red-haired boy mumbled, rolling his eyes. "You think she'd be off the subject by now. What? Isn't Vicky enough to take your mind off of SPEW?"

"I told you, don't call him Vicky." His other best friend blushed furiously as she sat down. Glaring, she replied hotly, "And what do you mean set me off? I happen to think—"

"Erm—hey, where's the new Defense Against the arts teacher? Reckon they forgot about the feast?" Harry quickly changed to a less hazardous topic, commenting on the empty seat placed between Professors Snape and Flitwick. But such thoughts were justified seeing how the past professors were either working for You-Know-Who, clueless about teaching, sent by the Ministry of Magic, or simply not human.

"Dunno. Who is it anyways? Bit of a secret it seems." Ron poked at his plate, his mouth full as food appeared on their plates. "Anyone's better than Umbridge I suppose, the old hag. Here Harry, try the potatoes."

"Whoever it is, they must be very good. I heard Professor Dumbledore recommended them himself." Hermione chewed vigorously, "You know, I was making some adjustments to my schedule and overheard Professor Sprout and McGonagall. They stopped when they saw me, of course, but I think they were talking about Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor McGonagall didn't seem too thrilled about the new teacher though, I wonder why."

Harry shrugged, his gaze drifting over to the teacher's table. Their Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor went unmentioned by Dumbledore. In fact, if he didn't know better, he would say the headmaster was avoiding the subject entirely. Something tugged at his brain, but he ignored it, temporarily clearing his mind of all worries to enjoy the potatoes Ron recommended. After all, they'd find out in time who the new teacher was, hopefully it wasn't anyone too terrible . . .

It all began when Beast Boy declared he'd oust any challengers in another one of his mundane video games. Silly thing to do really, considering how Cyborg could easily have kicked his butt. But no, he had to get his butt kicked by some weirdo called, of all things, Spuf the Angry House Elf. Raven frowned, thinking of all the stupid things Beast Boy just had to go and do.

Really, because losing to a house elf had consequences, especially an Angry one. How a creature got its hands on a Muggle game station, Raven had no clue. Anyways, this Spuf or Spurf demanded a ridiculously large sum of foreign currency, Galleons it seemed, and Beast Boy having even never heard of the thing—because really, he tried to give the elf a gallon of tofu—had only one choice: enslavement.

It was quite simple really, work at Hogwarts in Spuf's place so he could finally get that dream vacation he so wanted. Having chanced upon house elves in her reading, Raven was extremely perplexed. Weren't they supposed to detest vacations and love chores? At any rate, Hogwarts had thousands and thousands of house elves and the Titans had one Beast Boy.

The choice was clear, she being the magical one, would have to go and retrieve their teammate. Raven scowled, as an adamant Spuf had persisted. He would vacation until Beast Boy managed to accumulate enough money. Of course, it wasn't Beast Boy making the wizard money, oh no. He had been busy in the kitchens preparing for the opening feast. No, instead it was poor Raven who had to make ends meet.

At least there was a job opening at Hogwarts so she could keep an eye on Beast Boy. What was it again? Oh yes, something about needing a teacher to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts? Thankfully she knew enough about the topic to get hired. Dumbledore was kind enough once he understood the special circumstances about Beast Boy and such. The transfiguration teacher, Professor McGonagall had been reluctant, though.

But what sensible person wouldn't be reluctant, knowing that the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was younger than some of the students and a half-demon? Raven sighed, what was she doing, dressed in some absurd robes that only a half-wit would wear about to impersonate a witch? She mentally cursed the dreaded house elf, hoping the teacher's salary was high enough that she wouldn't be hanging around for long.

Honestly, the people here couldn't even cast a spell without waving their silly pieces of wood around. Raven fingered the wand in her left pocket. Not that she needed the contraption, no, after all it was part of her costume along with the hated clothing. Really, she had no idea how humans cast magic. But if all else failed, she could always perform the spell with her own magic and hope no one noticed.

Raven cleared her throat, neatly tucking her books under her arm as ventured into her first class. She anxiously gripped her useless wand, wringing a handful of her bulky robes. Beast Boy was going to owe her for the rest of his life, no scratch that, the entire team was going to be eternally indebted to her. Raven looked at her schedule, a double class, Slytherin and Gryffindor. Great, she thought grimly, Here we go . . .

Harry Potter shared a desk with Ron, his fingers drumming absently on his newly acquired books. So far the day had idly passed by, with an hour of Herbology and History of Magic. He ignored his rapidly piling stack of homework, focusing on the classroom door. Twenty minutes into Defense Against the Dark Arts and the teacher had still not arrived. Harry was beginning to wonder whether this was Dumbledore's idea of a joke.

A few tables away, Hermione had already begun her history essay, filling the parchment with her neatly flowing script. Ron had his arms under his head, dozing off over a turned page in his Herbology book. Harry sighed, his mind drifting slowly when the soft clicking of heels drew his attention. The door swung open and in came their new professor. Harry nudged Ron sharply with his elbow, who jolted awake mumbling wildly, "What? Where's the troll?"

The entire class seemed to turn their heads at once as their professor entered. Hermione frowned slightly, her mouth falling open in surprise as the young witch tossed her things aside gracelessly, standing with her back to them as if contemplating, before facing them to reveal a pair of dark blue eyes. She certainly wasn't what she had expected, with her purple hair and strange red stone centered on her pale forehead, so pale that she looked positively gray.

"You're late, Professor." Draco Malfoy drawled lazily, his eyes examining the feminine figure of the new teacher. He lounged in the back of the classroom with in stealthy, catlike style of a predator, his lip curling into a sneer.

"Your school is quite difficult to navigate." The petite woman stated simply, summoning her book as her fingertips skimmed over the magical pages. She offered no other explanations for her lateness or strange appearance nor did she give any indication of her name.

Harry found himself certainly intrigued by the mysterious professor, whose pale face starkly contrasted with her dark azure eyes. She looked terribly out of place, even at Hogwarts, because for one thing, she looked to be around his age. "Excuse me, Professor, but what exactly is your name?"

"Raven." She replied simply. "You may address me as Raven."