James Buchanan Barnes was the first student to file into Classroom 3C the next morning. With his head held high and his stomach fluttering, he strode to his usual desk in the front left corner and plopped down. He dropped his pack of textbooks on the floor, while Steve took the desk next to him and neatly deposited his underneath his seat. Bucky stretched back in his creaking chair, watching as the rest of the class found their seats. The endless whispers seemed to bounce off the walls.

This was easily the most anticipated class of the morning, as everyone was anxious to see the newest professor at work. Bucky, in particular, was quite ecstatic. Defense Against the Dark Arts had always been one of his best subjects.

Once everyone had been seated, the whispers grew to murmurs. Where was Professor Loki? Bucky exchanged a curious look with Steve, who merely shrugged his thin shoulders.

A side door suddenly flew open with a bang!, and the classroom fell silent. Bucky held his breath as Professor Loki glided into the room. The man's footsteps were smooth and effortless, and a coal-black cloak flowed elegantly behind him. His cool, clear blue eyes commanded every ounce of attention as they swiveled around the room with ease. The tall, lithe man strode in front of the desk, then paused and turned to face the group of bewildered students.

There was a stretch of silence as Loki surveyed the room, his eyes resting for a brief moment on every person. The instant Bucky's gaze met that of the Professor's, he felt a rush of adrenaline. He stared into pools of cerulean; icy, deep, and mysterious. Bucky felt an inexplicable prick of curiosity.

So enamored was he, that the moment Loki spoke, he jumped in his seat.

"Welcome, students," he said. His voice was calm and smooth, neither high nor low. "It is an honor, truly, to be granted such a prestigious role in Wizard Academia. I endeavor to approach this task with all of the dignity that becomes it." A wave of awe crashed over Bucky at the aura of sheer, graceful simplicity this man seemed to present within a few scarce words. "Now," Loki continued, his sharp demeanor relaxing as he began to pace in front of his desk with short, controlled footsteps. "I have not been blind to the flurry of inquiries that have been abounding since my arrival. I'm flattered at such curiosity, and will open the first segment of this class for some questions." The Professor surveyed the class, and there was a brief pause before a boy near the middle of the room timidly raised a hand. Loki nodded, granting him permission to speak.

"What... what's it like to be the brother of Thor?" the boy asked, his eyes as wide as saucers. "Everyone says he'll be the next Headmaster, after all." The thin-lipped smile that crossed Loki's face seemed tight, but his tone showed no sign of irritation.

"It's been... difficult, at times," said the Professor. "Nevertheless, my brother is a great wizard. But then again, so am I." He uttered the last few words with a cajoling voice, and the classroom erupted into light laughter. "Next?" said Loki, and a girl in the front row spoke up.

"Can you tell us any embarrassing stories about him?" she queried hopefully. At this, the Professor chuckled.

"I could tell you many," Loki answered. "But I'm afraid we'd be here all day." The students joined in his laughter again. "Perhaps another time," Loki assured her, and a few hearty cheers followed. "Anyone else?" Loki inquired. Bucky glanced around the room, and watched as Tony Stark raised his hand from the back row. "Ah, yes Mr. Stark?"

"Is it true that you're a Metamorphmagus?" Tony asked, his brown eyes glowing in curiosity.

The room went silent. Bucky felt a prick of surprise at such a blatant query; he had heard some scarce rumors here and there that the younger son of Headmaster Odin was a Metamorphmagus, but as far as he knew, it had never been confirmed. Nevertheless, every eye was on the Professor as the silence stretched on. His expression was indiscernible.

"Well, what would be the fun in ruining the rumors?" he said with a wide, toothy grin. Bucky smirked at the look of annoyance etched across Tony's face. "But alas" Loki continued, rubbing his hands together eagerly. "I may accept some more questions at the end," There was a wave of groans and protests that swept over the room, but they were silenced by a stern look from the young Professor. "Please open your books to page five," said Loki, a strange glint inside of his sharp eyes. "Let us begin."

******

Tony chewed on the end of his mechanical pencil, staring at the sheet of scribbles on the table below him. All around, the mindless hustle and bustle of the Great Hall was abounding, but Tony had grown used to blocking the noises out. A group of popular Slytherin girls were surrounding him at the table, but Tony was hardly paying attention, mumbling half-hearted answers as he penned his latest thoughts into his worn notebook. When the girls finally gave up and moved down the table towards more interesting prey, Tony sighed out in relief. He only had so much patience for them.

A soft warble came from beside him, and Tony glanced up to see a pale, gray owl perched on the table. A letter was caught inside his beak, and Tony removed it delicately. He dug inside his pockets for a treat, then offered it to the owl, who took it with a gratefully hoot.

"Thanks Jarvis," he murmured, patting the owl on his feathery head before the bird launched himself into the air and took off back to the owlery. Tony absent-mindedly picked a blueberry from a bowl of fruit in front of him, and munched on the fruit as he turned back to his notebook.

"Nice to see some things haven't changed," a familiar voice said. Tony's gaze shot up to see a tall girl taking the seat across from him. She had long, ginger hair, an overabundance of freckles, and soft blue eyes. Her crisp uniform bore the crest of Hufflepuff.

"Ah, Miss Potts," Tony greeted her, pushing his notebook aside as he grabbed his book-bag and pulled out a single sheet of parchment. "Here's this week's assignments," he said, handing her the list. The girl, none other than Pepper Potts, took the list and eyed it with a dubious gaze.

"This is a lot to do," she remarked. Tony sighed, then placed a heavy pouch of coins onto the table and slid it over to her.

"You'll get a raise, then," he said in a pleading tone. Pepper sighed, running a hand through her hair.

"Alright," she consented, sliding the pouch and the list into her bag. Before rising from the table, however, she gave a wayward glance at his opened notebook. "What are you working on now?" she asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

"A super-strength potion," Tony answered, closing his notebook with a quick snap. Pepper's expression was growing more and more perplexed with every passing second.

"We're wizards," she reminded him. "Why do we need super strength?" Tony shrugged.

"It's something my father tried in his younger days," he explained. "But he could never get it to work. Seemed like a nice challenge." Understanding suddenly dawned on Pepper's face.

"You're trying to prove yourself to him," she said. Tony frowned, and stared at her for a moment.

"Last time I checked," he said, "I pay you to do my homework, not give psychological evaluations."

Pepper's eyes widened, her cheeks turning bright crimson.

"O-of course," she mumbled, snatching her bookbag and rising from her seat. "I'm sorry, that was inappropriate." Before Tony could respond, she had fled from the table, rushing back to her fellows Hufflepuffs. Yet another sigh escaped Tony's lips.

The Great Hall was beginning to empty. Students finished their dinner and made their way back to their dorms. Tony decided to join the flow of students and head down to the Slytherin quarters. With some luck, he could he get in some more work before his prefect patrol tonight.

After all, this potion wasn't going to invent itself.

******

One Week Later...

"Don't do it, mate."

Steve's brow crinkled in deep concentration.

"Take him out, Steve," Bucky was saying from beside him.

"Don't do this to me, Rogers," Sam pleaded from across the table. Steve bit his lip. Finally, with a heavy heart, he made his move.

"Checkmate," he said, leaning back in his chair as the pearly-white rook cantered across the chessboard and knocked over Sam's king. Sam fumed, his dark eyes narrowing.

"You're too good at this game," he muttered.

"Practicing usually does help," Steve replied with a smirk. Sam scowled.

"Evening, boys," a pleasant, but strong voice said, and Steve's heart leaped in response. A girl slid into the seat beside of Sam. Dark, curly hair framed her porcelain skin, and deep, brown eyes moved deliberately over each face as the girl greeted them with a kind glance.

"Hi Peggy," Bucky said with a smile, elbowing Steve underneath the table. Steve struggled not to cough, and offered Peggy Carter a shy nod.

"Hey," he mumbled.

"What mischief are you lot getting into?" Peggy asked, glancing at the chessboard.

"Oh, Steve was just giving Sammy a thorough whacking in chess," Bucky explained, giving Steve a hearty slap on the shoulder, causing Steve to flinch and Sam to glare daggers in Bucky's direction.

"You play chess?" Peggy said, her eyes piercing into Steve's. His stomach did a somersault.

"A little," he admitted. She smiled.

"We should have a go sometime," she responded. "I love a good match of chess."

"Y-yeah, that'd be great," Steve stuttered, an unexpected sense of elation bursting through him.

An awkward pause followed, and Steve drummed his fingers lightly atop the table.

"Well, what do you all think of Professor Loki?" Bucky asked after several moments of stilted silence.

"I think he's great!" Sam exclaimed, his face lighting up. "He's so... so suave, and elegant. And he really does know what he's talking about.

"He's very knowledgeable," Peggy agreed.

"He's also very mysterious," Steve pointed out.

"That's what makes him so interesting, you git," said Bucky. "I think he's bloody fantastic."

"You saw how he dodged that question about being a Metamorphmagus," Steve reminded them.

"Why does it matter if he's a Metamorphmagus or not?" Peggy asked, cocking her head to the side. "It doesn't affect his teaching."

"I don't know," Steve admitted. "It just seemed a little bizarre, that's all. He looked kind of annoyed at the question."

"I think Stark was more annoyed than anyone," Sam said, throwing a dirty glance to the boy himself. Tony sat on the other side of the library's studying area, where his head was buried deep inside of a worn notebook. "Merlin knows why he was so curious about it."

"He likes to cause trouble, that's why," Steve answered in a biting tone. No one had a response to that.

"Well," Peggy said with a soft sigh as she stood to her feet. "I should be off; I have patrol duty tonight."

"Oh good," Bucky said excitedly. "That means we can sneak out and cause loads of trouble."

"Bucky Barnes," Peggy exclaimed, planting her hands on her hips. "I expect a better attitude from a fellow prefect! And if you think for one moment I won't turn you over to the Caretaker if I catch you sneaking about, then you best think again!" Bucky gaped at her in horror.

"You wouldn't," he gasped. "You know what they say about that old crazy man." Peggy rolled her eyes.

"Matt Murdock is a perfectly adequate Caretaker."

"They say if he catches you out, he'll make you clean the entire kitchen," Sam said with a visible shudder.

"They don't call it Hell's Kitchen for nothing," Bucky added.

"You two are ridiculous," Peggy muttered, shaking her head. "Good luck getting them into a mental asylum, Steve."

"See ya, Peggy!" Steve called after her as she strode off towards the library exit.

"For Merlin's sake," Bucky said once she was out of earshot. "Just ask the girl out already,"

"I don't think I'm ready," Steve muttered, looking away. Bucky snorted.

"At the rate you're going, you just might be ready by the time I have grandkids."

"Come on, Steve," Sam urged. "What's the worse that could happen? Besides complete and utter rejection, of course." Steve sighed.

"You really aren't helping," he grunted.

"I don't think anyone can help you, Rogers," a lofty voice interjected. Steve gritted his teeth together, glancing sideways to see Tony pausing by their table. Steve leapt to his feet, scowling at the Slytherin with all the disapproval he could muster.

"Maybe not," he said. "But I'd be more than happy to help you to the nearest hospital." Steve curled his hands into fists. Tony chuckled, eyeing him up and down.

"All five-foot-two of you?" he mocked. "Take some advice, Rogers," he called back over his shoulder. "Don't pick a fight you can't win, which in your case, would be all fights."

Steve glowered after Tony as he swaggered off. He resisted the urge to rush after the boy and knock him to the ground; or at least try to. Bucky placed a comforting hand on his arm, and Steve took his seat with a great deal of reluctance.

"You good?" Bucky asked, his tone concerned. Steve answered with a stiff nod.

"I just know one thing," he said, glaring over his shoulder at the receding back of Tony. "I don't trust Loki or Stark."