Septima slumped into her chair and started sifting through the essays to grade. The silly third, fourth, and sixth years- they thought that after exams were over, all the work in Hogwarts was done. Exams, she thought, are where the work begins. She looked at the stack another time. She hadn't taught a competent and enthusiastic essay writer since Hermione Granger dropped out of her class and Hogwarts to go kill the Dark Lord. Nowadays these children were just being pushed into her class by well-meaning parents, so they could sit in class and sleep with their eyes open. She looked glumly at the pile again, doubting any of them met the length requirements she had requested.
Alas, she had to start somewhere. She counted seven essays forward, read the illegible scrawl, considered it, and scribbled a P on it, with a few of her signature comments, which included but were not limited to: "Your statistics and statements are about as valid as the dragon dung I fertilize my garden with, and thanks for asking, it's blooming" and "If only, if only, the woodpecker sighs, Hogwarts taught grammar and spelling" and "I doubt you know enough Arithmancy to tell me what it means when I rate you from a scale of 1 to 10 at -3." Then she counted three essays backwards and started reading. The writing was nice, even though there was no distinguishing factor between s and z, and she displayed a basic knowledge of Arithmancy, so Professor Vector decreed A and counted seven essays forward.
She continued late into the night, the heights of her experience being the counting seven forward and three back. On her fifteenth three back, she read the line "Arithmancy: The Unappreciated Magnificence" and did a double take. So long it had been since someone had chosen that prompt! And they had even placed their own title. She smiled, and read on...
Arithmancy: The Unappreciated Magnificence
Arithmancy, the most noble of all magical arts, is also the most logical. All that one really needs to explore this complex field is their mind and perhaps a bit of parchment. Yet, it is still a field pertaining to magic, because similar its deluded sister Divination, it can predict results, as well as playing an essential role in the vague and respected skill of spell-experimentation and invention, as well as the newer branch, curse-breaking.
Unfortunately, the popularity of spell-invention, and by association Arithmancy, died down when the fatalities associated with the profession grew. The renowned Dr. Lovegood was one of the last Arithmancy greats of the 20th century, and when she, too, expired unfortunately in 1990, the practice of experimentation became a hobby of only the Ministry, where they place so many protective spells that their studies are quite futile and virtually worthless.
Professor Vector stopped reading. It sounded like this person actually enjoyed Arithmancy! She thought again, wistfully, of Hermione Granger, who had loved Arithmancy with a passion that nearly surpassed herself, as well as knowing how to write an excellent essay. That girl could have made cauldron bottoms sound interesting... But that was beside the point. Septima rustled the papers slightly as she flipped them. Right after the first essay, there was a second. Another original title. Another introduction.
More than Lucky Seven
Even with the popularity of Arithmancy at an all-time low, that seven has exceptional power is common knowledge throughout the world, both muggle and magic. Much less prominent is three, the Great and Terrible. Yet both are integral to all communities.
Seven is found everywhere in magical media, architecture, spells, and even the late and unlamented Lord Voldemort's deepest and darkest secret.
Her finger, which had been following the page so steadily, paused on the name that still caused a heartbeat of fear, despite witnessing with her own eyes the wretched man fall, despite dragging his body away with her own wand flick. What on earth was this name doing in an Arithmancy essay? She took a shuddery breath, and resumed the paragraph.
It pertains to magic in a way that binds all, that heals all, that enforces and embodies all in a way similar to how goblin manufactured products act. The reason is so simply expressed: its complexity and utter unfathomability. For instance, seven is the lowest value that is practically impossible to find as a factor without actually dividing or prior knowledge. As discovered by gifted and undoubtedly genius Arithmancer Bridget Wenlock, the pattern of seven is that there is no pattern; that is the basis of all magic. Muggle and magic being opposites, seven tends to act a bit differently towards muggles, and is more minor still. Known to them as "lucky" seven, its presence often inspires reckless habits such as muggle gambling. There are countless cases in which seven in present: players in Quidditch, seven years of schooling, seven secret passages in Hogwarts, and even the birth month of our savior, Harry J. Potter. Overall, this most powerfully magical number seven deserves to be respected and revered for its absolute splendor, as well as being treated with caution.
The numeral three has power equal to the aforementioned VII, but its brilliance is spread equally throughout both the dimensions of magic and muggle and the extremes of benign and malignant. As a benign number, it is the basis of the simplest geometrical figure, as well as being the square root of the basis of all repeating decimals. Arithmetic, the muggle adaptation of Arithmancy, heralds three in a manner that is only deserving; there even exists a branch titled trigonometry, for the purpose of studying the properties of three and triangles extensively. Many muggles have recognized the raw power of three in much of their folk literature as well, though a few modern muggle writers, like Diane Setterfield who wrote the fictional novel, The Thirteenth Tale (even including a brief knowledge of thirteen's properties and of three's often overlooked negativity!), also venerate it, even simply and indirectly by writing trilogies. Such wisdom starkly contrasts the image of ignorance that many of us associate with muggle (see Muggles Who Notice by Blenheim Stalk for details); if anything, this just shows the stunning equality of three. Wizards, on the other hand, preoccupied by seven, recognize III simply by donning black, cone-shaped hats. The Terrible in "Great and Terrible" unfortunately exists as genuinely as the Great. One of the negatives is definitely present in the Triwizard Tournament, with the depressing number of fatalities. Another indication lies in the three Unforgivable Curses, each equally Terrible and unmatched by any other spell in their cruelty. As an attempt to dumb down the dangerous extremes of the pure, undiluted three, wizards have a habit of including numbers with a factor of three, such as six hoops in Quidditch, the six sons of Arthur and Molly Weasley, the six Horcruxes Voldemort intended to have (an instance of powerful magic when seven and three correlate),
The surprise was only slightly less this time, but the word "Horcruxes" shocked her as well. The late (and very lamented, she added to herself) Headmaster Albus Dumbledore had banned any teaching of it, and there were only vague rumors of Horcruxes being involved in the whole You-Know-You reign. How could a student mention them so casually? Septima continued with the list.
twelve hands on a clock, twenty-four hours in a day, twelve uses of dragon blood, twelve governors on the Hogwarts School Board of Governors, 12 Grimmauld Place was the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix, etc. etc. III is both the Lord and Lady of all bipolar power that must be given great joy and grief.
Although all numbers up to infinity are distinctively exceptional, seven and three supersede the rest. Knowing your numbers is vastly important when in the presence of these majesties, and endeavoring to treat them deferentially is quite rewarding.
"There is no name, so that'll count against the student. This person has some transitional problems, and her parallelism is skewed," Professor Vector muttered to herself, but couldn't help but admiring the detail included; this would have to be her first E in years. She placed the essay back down with a shaking hand, but after a second thought picked up again. As she put on her coat and buttoned it over her pajamas, she finalized her decision to tell someone.
When her jog through the halls was finished, the overtired professor squeaked, "Ron." The gargoyle let her by, and she made her way to the gryffin door knocker. It had been so long since she had grasped it, but now she did.
"Come on in!" called the cheerful young voice.
Professor Vector obeyed, and, after many pleasantries, sat down and presented the essay. Her companion examined the points of interest, and though intrigued, was not altogether too worried.
"There's not even a name on it!" Septima said in dismay.
'"Did you consult your student list and see if any hadn't turned in a different essay?"
"No, I'm afraid I didn't think to do it," the Professor admitted, slightly ashamed. She then led her superior back to her office and ran down the list. No one's essays were missing.
"So unless one of your kids wrote two exams, this is not one of your students."
Septima made a small smile, "I bet you would have, if you were given the opportunity." Professor Granger smoothed a crinkle in the parchment to hide her obvious pleasure before emitting a small shriek of exclamation. "What is it, Headmistress?"
"I found a name! Only, it doesn't look like a name..."
The blue eyes followed the brown eyes' gaze until they stopped, transfixed, at the neat line in the corner.
Written by loonynamelass