Chapter 2

The south of France was HOT.

Darryl cast surreptitious cooling charms as the flying carriages came into land, turned to Nine Napier, bowed from the waist in his seat and said,

"Madam, I apologise for misunderstanding the purpose of short trousers; to me it means chapped knees and thighs that never get warm. I forgot, of course, the difference in climate. Though even less can I understand how the senior girls can bear stockings; an unnecessary torture I would think!"

"But so much more stylish than the socks a little girl wears!" said Nine, a little mollified "Besides it is custom in France that small boys wear shorts."

"Oh so it is in England" said Darryl "But not big boys of eleven; few English over the age of six would wear shorts save for sport. But then we also encourage our children in independence and maturity. However I may succumb to the local customs and consider the possibility of shorts myself; I have lederhosen such as we wear in the Alps for practical purposes of comfort when climbing. It is hot there also, though not so humid as here." Besides, there was a difference between the longish lederhosen and the abbreviated shorts that were school uniform.

Nine Napier gazed at him in horror at the thought of him in lederhosen.

Horace poked him.

"Behave, bad one" he murmured. Darryl grinned at him. The primness of the wretched woman middle aged before her time bought out the worst in him. WHAT a good job Mimi and the other Belle Marauders were not here!

He knew Mimi could feel him thinking of her and send long passionate thoughts and memories of the kiss they had exchanged when he left her.

Then they were landing and he had to get out, take in the large sprawling chateau that was more a palace than a castle, with extensive grounds that looked to be as ruthlessly manicured as its inmates were expected to be. He had seen that his hurley players had been returned to a state HE considered respectable but Mademoiselle Napier had still raised a horrified eyebrow and had primped girls and tweaked boys before letting them eat their rolls and coffee. And at least Darryl had been familiar with the concept of milky coffee in bowls into which the pain au chocolat was dipped, for being used to continental customs in Austria. Except that Austrians did not muck about with the digestions by living on high carbohydrate, low substance diets like the French.

He went to his room – escorted by an elf – to freshen up and took a quick cold bath. Fortunately he had been warned about the heat and had decided to be moved by vanity as well as comfort and had had made up a number of calf length robes of fine linen – less sticky than silk – embroidered about the neck and hem for weight and hang, and put on a pair of sandals that might be described more as caligae since he found the normal man's sandal very unstylish. He would dress as did the Romans; and he had the legs to carry it off too. A pity he might not get away with ancient Egyptian garb; he thought he would look very dashing in a linen kilt and fancy collar. Of course he would look equally dashing dressed in nothing but a leopard skin, but there were limits. He experimented with and without a belt, and decided that with a belt and the tunic pouched over it a little to lift it to knee level he looked really quite classical and was quite comfortable too with a cool breeze on all his extremities. He resumed an academic gown; it had wide three-quarter sleeves so was not too hot, and strolled down for the diner, what he would call supper in England.

His costume shocked almost everyone and his calves were covertly admired by all the girls and women and a few of the boys too.

xxx

Darryl would be teaching effectively four classes; a taster class to the first two years, those of the third who opted to take chanting as an elective and a voluntary class on Saturday for everyone else who wanted to have a chance to learn the new subject. Those of the fourth might then have a straightforward timetabled class next year to take it alongside their other scheduled ELM exams; those of the fifth and the combined sixth might hope to take it either at the end of this year if they came on far enough, giving those in the fifth the chance to study it to ELF, or else those of the fifth and lower sixth might take it at the same time the current fourth took their exam if they needed the extra year. Those in the upper sixth would either have to work really hard to gain any qualification or else be satisfied with such knowledge as they had gained. Darryl could not be bothered to translate the French classes out of the way in which he thought of them; how typical of the French to start with sixth class through to first class and final year as a means of counting when everyone else in the world numbered their classes from inception to completion, even if that did mean that they started year one being reception class at four years old, or in America, six. At least it was logical.

It may be noted that Darryl had a degree of an Englishman's xenophobia towards the French more than any other peoples in the world.

The first class was a scheduled one on the morrow for those of the third who had elected to take the new subject without having tried it; they might get a shock, though he would try to break the physical exigencies of the subject to them as gently as possible. There were to be just ten in the class, only three of whom were boys; somehow Darryl suspected that the girls saw it as just a bit of gentle singing, and the boys saw it as a soppy bit of gentle singing They would be disabused of this erroneous belief. The first and second had no choice in the matter of a single period of chanting each week; and the older ones had, one hoped, a bit better idea if they were prepared to put in extra curricular time. That would be the challenging class – and the biggest. Twenty had expressed an interest from the combined sixth, eleven from the fifth, the Seconde as they called it, which was more boys than girls and hence presumably well informed; and some fourteen fourth years. Almost fifty. Still, Hogwarts this year was to have an intake of more than fifty pupils; and the core classes were to be taught all at once while they were streamed into upper and lower streams so he could scarcely complain; and Tony Queach had as many at least when Darryl had first taken up chanting as a Saturday voluntary class in those days when he was still an enemy of the blood group and was seeking for the source of their power. And what a well spent Saturday class it had been!

Well he would not see how many of his incipient third years – the Quartième – would join any morning run because they were not to run that first morning; no good expecting them to recover from a journey quickly the way English youths would. Still, he might then meet first the other staff members in the staff room more fully than with the hurried introductions before the first night's welcome feast which turned out to be full enough and tasty enough albeit a little heavy on the sauces. He chatted to those professors he had not yet met; recognising a few from the Symposium. The languid lily of indeterminate gender that was the Transfigurations teacher turned out to be a witch called Elvira Van Diemen; she greeted him with a limp handshake that almost felt damp just from the associations of its almost corpse-like nature. Darryl repressed the urge to spread rumours that she was an inferius; it was rather too childish a thing to do. Amédé Cuiliere, the potions master, looked down his nose and said,

"I understand you've had some of your training at least from Severus Snape; so how does HE rate you as a potioneer?"

Darryl grinned.

"Well, as I'm sure you're aware, although he's not inclined to hand out compliments on a plate he has been known to refer to me AS a potioneer; which is about the best compliment he gives" he said.

Cuiliere nodded.

"Then you are talented" he said "Why then do you teach chanting?"

"Because it was the subject needed for a year before a permanent teacher becomes available" said Darryl "And although I have an 'O' grade at NEWT I do not consider it my best subject; though one learns all the time. I do of course compare myself to Sev's own children and to Sev himself" he added. "Next year in the free school I shall be involved in starting, I shall be teaching Ancient Runes, which IS my best subject and which has boosted my chanting. You've read, of course, the little thing Jade Snape wrote under the name of Nefrita Von Strang about the Bactrian Texts needing a potioneer to unravel them?"

"That was Severus Snape's daughter? It was a masterly piece of work" said Cuiliere, thawing visibly. That Darryl referred so familiarly to the famous Severus Snape was a revelation to him too.

"It was, wasn't it?" said Horace "And a humbling lesson to us all that we should take more account of each others' specialities; and somehow I dare say the disciples of Severus Snape will discuss esoteric connections all the time in THEIR staffroom."

"Well we already have done from before OWL" said Darryl. "Yes, it will be most interesting to be able to continue to do so and share in each other's research."

"And an example to us all who have grown up with the thought that research is to be hoarded and hugged to oneself" rumbled Horace.

"That is you French of course" sneered the man Horace had indicated as Egide Sauvage, the Belgian Professor of Care of Beasts "And the English no better. And their main teacher is that idiot Hagrid."

"Hagrid is no idiot" said Darryl sharply "Not very well educated in his speech perhaps and a little rough around the edges; but he knows his subject backwards."

"He knows nothing of the small fairy kind" scoffed Sauvage.

"Oh he knows enough to teach; it may not be his speciality, but then he has trained most of the eminent dragon handlers in Europe because he IS an expert on dragons" said Darryl "And for that matter on flying horses. Give him the credit for the knowhow and patience to have trained and bred the first documented domesticated thestrals in Europe. He doesn't show well because he likes animals better than people; sometimes I can see his point of view" he added dryly.

"You didn't take the subject in your final two years though, I bet" said Sauvage.

"Well be reasonable; taking more than seven NEWTs is beyond most of us" said Darryl "So I took those I was most interested in. David Fraser, who would have taught me had I taken it further, is a good friend and a fine teacher too, but even he only took six NEWTs and had to make some compromises. He's studied on since he's been in teaching, as I intend to do. And I shall certainly keep up with the Wizarding Wireless Vision programmes made by Orlando Carcano. I want to study Comparative Magic further too, and a working knowledge of Magical Beasts is helpful for that too."

"You are one of those who love learning and will never stop I think" put in the Charms Professor, Charmaine Epeler with a warm smile. "Horace said you may need me as a chaperone?"

"If you can bear to leave your bed at five in the morning I would be very pleased" said Darryl "Upper school girls scare me rigid! I'd like to introduce the English custom of running before school, which increases the stamina to better sustain spells; and for chanting increases the lung capacity which may make the difference between success and failure. But such exercise can hardly be made a compulsory part of the lesson so I thought to run it as a club of self improvement after the English fashion."

"Ah, the club that improved itself so much the pupils involved had the magic at their fingertips to defeat Voldemort I suspect" said Charmaine. "This custom I will gladly embrace for your peace of mind as well as for the girls; and to learn more also."

"Thanks" said Darryl with a brief bow to her.

"It sounds most jolly!" Madam Maxime herself interposed "But a little energetic for me!"

"Oh dear, I hope you won't stretch the poor little things too far so they are tired in class!" put in Amelie Duvall – no relation of Pharamond whose surname had only one 'l' – who was the DADA professor.

"The point of the exercise is to enable them to be LESS tired less quickly" said Darryl dryly "A youth trained in stamina can maintain a shield charm for three times as long and against more formidable spells as a child without the same advantages; this has been proven again and again. Even those children so unfortunate as to only learn the shield charm late in life when they start school and need wand and incantation to cast it."

"But it is a difficult spell!" cried Amelie "Many of the poor little ones never learn to achieve it at all; what are you saying? To cast it without word or wand, is that possible?"

"Amelie, don't be an idiot" said Horace "Did you not accompany the duelling team to Durmstrang when Odessa sought to snare Harry Potter, when Hercule was on the team? And did not the English, even little ones of fifteen, cast wordlessly and wandlessly much of the time?"

"Well yes, but one could not tell then what spells they used; there are many counter-jinxes…."

"Most English use the shield charm as a matter of course as it comes easily" said Darryl "As well it might; most families of any degree of prominence at least teach it to their children the moment they manifest magic at the age of seven. Voldemort taught us the valuable lesson of creative paranoia" he added. "Duelling spells are not looked upon as a sport in England; but as serious means of self defence. You in France, where Odessa never got a great hold, are lucky to have the luxury to treat your DADA classes as an academic exercise. Some of us have passed practicals rather stiffer than any exam board sets and at a younger age too; and if things have been relatively peaceful of late, well those of us brought up to believe the worst wonder where supremacists and their dark magic will arise next. And some of us look at a French organisation called 'The New Sun' which seems to have ideals almost identical to Odessa and would seek to undo all the great work that you of Beauxbatons have put in to increase racial equality with your policies of letting in first half-bred people and your making no distinction between them and pure bred humans, a social advance far beyond anything Agata Bacsó dares to do in Durmstrang even after the overthrow of Odessa if she hopes to keep her school open for having enough pupils."

"She is a hard woman; I cannot think she would want to see goblins educated" said Olympe Maxime.

"Funnily enough, she's found out more about goblins than she would have considered doing for herself – Jade Snape again – and has a greater liberality of view than of yore" said Darryl "She's in favour of the education of what she considers to be exceptional goblins, to be an elite amongst goblins, to help keep the others controlled; which is at least an advance. In time who knows what may happen; but in the meantime I applaud Beauxbatons for returning the debt owed by the wizarding community to the goblins who sheltered and nurtured many wizards and witches through the madness that was the Muggle Revolution by giving them the opportunity to show their mettle. I admit I have the fervour of the converted; I was raised to be a good little racist."

"What changed your mind?" the question was posed by Homère Tisserand, teacher of History and pleased to find an Englishman who knew something of French history.

Darryl gave a rueful grin.

"I fell in love with Mimi Snape, one of Sev's adopted daughters" he said "She's a full blood elf – she has a tall form almost like an animagus form closer to human size – who helped me to examine the reasons and backgrounds for some of my misconceptions and helped me to come to terms with the fact that I actually longed to be friends with the other two cleverest boys in my class – one of whom was Gorbrin Malfoy-Tobak and the other his friend Ming Chang. Racism is futile and rather stupid; but it can be dangerous when inculcated at an early age into those of us who are actually rather clever because we can be dangerous people. I'm extremely glad I had the opportunity to discard the lies and foolishness before I became a fanatical dark wizard. I'm horribly afraid I might have been rather good at it; because unlike so many who use the Dark Arts as a shortcut, a means to impose their will, I only ever saw it as an adjunct to true learning. An evil academic is about the most dangerous being there is in the universe; so I vote we all watch Horace for incipient darkness" and he winked at the Ancient Runes master.

Horace looked approval on him; the lad had brought serious issues into the open and had yet managed to make everyone laugh with a frivolous comment to lighten the mood. He was GOOD.

And just as well someone that good had NOT taken a dark path!

Darryl was on something of a mission for Severus; because there had been trouble in France. Kinat had helped sort out trouble among goblins protesting that more should be done, some of whom were violent hot-heads on their own account, but many of whom were being carefully manipulated by one or more wizards seeking to manipulated uneducated, easily roused goblins into committing acts of violence that would lead to reforms being stopped before they had really begun. Kinat had been fast and successful in his intervention and had managed to teach the French Aurors a few things; but there were sympathisers of those who had been stirring up the goblins, and with Odessa gone there was too a power vacuum in Europe. And Severus suspected that there was funding coming from Germany to help those of rather less than idealistic ideals. Darryl was to sound out the youth of Beauxbatons and see if there were any that might be drawn in to the general fight against racism. And so he planned to do; and if he could raise the general awareness without sounding too much as though he was preaching or proselytising he would do so.

"Nice delivery, Zabini; do you do amateur dramatics?" asked Amédé Cuiliere.

"No, old boy; never had time" said Darryl equably "I suppose that it's just sincerity that adds dramatic effect more than training. One of those odd paradoxes of demagoguery. But I'm not here to be a political rally; I just state my views following a question I was asked."

He really WAS good, thought Horace. And stylish enough – in his arrogantly eccentric way – to get the attention of the French. Presumably Snape thought France was the clear and present danger; well, the lad would have an ally in him, even if many of their colleagues were unlikely or unwilling to perceive and particularly to try to counter any threat.

"Amédé is fond of amateur dramatics" said Horace "I'm sure he was not disparaging your sincerity, Darryl, but admiring your excellent voice and looking for an opening to suggest you might wish to participate in any productions with which he is involved."

That ought to cover the supercilious old fool's general attempts to interfere for the sake of it.

Darryl regarded Cuiliere.

"Well I can't say I've done any acting but if you need a makeweight I'm willing enough to give anything a go once" he said "So long as I don't get precipitated into anything complex like 'Othello' for my looks. I'm good at learning poetry and stuff; it's a favourite discipline measure at Hogwarts as at Prince Peak and I've never claimed to be a model pupil. Learning lines that follow proper cues ought not to pose a problem."

"Hmph, well, I shall see" said Amédé Cuiliere who had never considered such an invitation. The boy had a beautiful voice however; it would be a delight to hear him deliver lines. Amédé was inclined to look down on those he did not consider his intellectual equal, and to sneer and test; but his was not a fault of vanity in a hobby that he loved, and he would rather see a part acted well, better than he could do it, than take the part himself however good it might be. And when he accepted a man as his equal he could be perfectly amiable. Darryl, as it happened, did not mind his manner; he knew Severus well enough to know that he hid behind a façade of sneering sarcasm when he felt threatened. As he had done himself once, before rescued from it by Mimi. He knew that the Potions master had not made the comment either to invite him to act or to deliberately show up his intentions to the others; but had simply seen through his careful crafting of stepping back from the subject and wanted him to know that it had been seen through; as an academic exercise. Which in some respects made Amédé a more dangerous person since he had NO axe to grind save that of his own proof of ability. Still, Darryl felt quite equal to handling Amédé even without the kindly intervention of Horace; because for all his supercilious air, Darryl could plainly see that Amédé was not in Severus Snape's league nor even in his own. Horace was another matter; but Horace seemed at least to be an ally.

xxx

Darryl recognised two of the children in his class as two who had been involved in the hurley at the lodge; a young boy with glasses and the oldest of the fey girls, her greenish hair neatly plaited and held with uniform blue ribbons that somehow managed to clash with the green. They all rose dutifully for him.

"Please take your seats" said Darryl "You will stand presently to begin the first practical work for this class; because I have to warn you, chanting is, at least until you get used to it, physically very demanding. Those who are fit have a great advantage; especially since the ELM-equivalent includes an hour-long chant. Not all chants are so long; some can be considerably longer. Yes, mademoiselle? And too what is your name?" as a girl put up her hand.

"Please Professor I am Ophélie Pomfret; I wanted to know what please is the longest chant you have done?"

"I personally? Eight hours" said Darryl "Part of a twelve hour chant in which almost nobody had to chant more than eight hours – the best of us – with backup chanters chanting four. It was a ritual to limit the power of such fey as may be described as dark creatures in breaking a curse imposed long ago that fed them power. Ah, Mlle Lafée has some knowledge; you felt it in your blood?"

"Yes sir; though only as an echo" said Amelie Lafée. "With breaks of course to rest?"

"Oh no, Mlle Lafée, no breaks" said Darryl "Eight hours continual chanting – we had helper elves to squirt honeyed water into our mouths between each repetition of the chant – a horrid one to get the tongue round, in Gaelic, which, as I understand from a native Frenchman, is like speaking Breton with a mouthful of nails whilst gargling. No breaks for anything; we could bath afterwards. To stop was to break the chant, to break the chant was to fail. It was a powerful curse and required powerful ritual to break; but it is broken now across Europe to almost as far as the Ural Mountains."

"Eeeuw" said Ophélie, who was assimilating the implications.

"Vain as I am, there are things I believe in more than personal comfort or appearance" said Darryl "And we made use of certain clever muggle devices; one to contain any er, output; and another that fed liquid to us directly so we did not dehydrate. Muggles have some very clever ideas through having to overcome problems without the usually quick fix of magic."

"Madame Lafayette is right then that muggles are not stupid at all?" asked one of the boys.

"Muggles, like wizards, can be incredibly clever through to phenomenally stupid" said Darryl "Their intellect works in exactly the same way ours does. It is no different. It is merely as though we can see a world that they have not seen for so long that they do not even believe in it. As though we have an extra sense; which in a way we do. Otherwise they are identical. But we are not here to discuss muggles; but to address chanting. And the first thing you will need to do to learn to chant is to learn to breathe. It will hurt; you will be exercising muscles you did not know you had. As you practise it will become second nature and will stop hurting. Nothing gained without some pain however; so if you will rise I shall demonstrate what I am looking for and leave you breathing as I come round to listen. Only YOU, however, know if you are putting in the effort I demand; only YOU can decide whether to take this seriously and work through the pain and rejoice in a couple of weeks when my classes cause you no more pain. Stand!"

He explained how to breathe from the chest, using the diaphragm to pull the air in for a complete lungful; and made them expel each breath on the note 'Fah' held as long as they could to expel all the air in their lungs.

"This then shall be your homework" he said "To do this every night and morning, five repetitions. When you can take an effortless lungful and hold a note for more than ten seconds you'll be getting somewhere."

"Please sir, will you show us how long you can hold a note?" asked another of the girls.

"All right" said Darryl "To show you it can be done" and he flooded his lungs and sang the last verse of the Uriah Heep song 'Gypsy Queen' culminating in the last line rarely sung for its challenges; "I love my gypsyyyyyyyyy queeeeen" holding the final note of 'gypsy' for the long seventeen seconds and with barely a breath into the held note of 'queen'.

The class applauded. Darryl had a good voice and the whole class found they had been holding their breaths – and had difficulty in holding so long a breath, let alone pumping out a long note at what was considerable volume.

The door burst open and Mlle Amelie Duvall burst in.

"Professeur Zabini are you all right?" she asked, her bun escaping from its pins rather like the White Queen, though Darryl.

"Perfectly, Madame Duvall" said Darryl "Merely demonstrating techniques. I suppose from a classroom or so away the result might be indistinguishable from a banshee, or Katti Krächzen or some other such dark creature."

His class hid giggles. The German singer was as well known on the continent as Celestina Warbeck with as mixed a reception.

"I admire Katti Krächzen" said Amelie Duvall coldly. It was hard to believe that she was younger than Severus; she was prematurely middle aged. Or Severus was eternally boyish.

Darryl bit off the comment that started to flow to his tongue that she was required, as teacher of DADA to take an interest in Dark Creatures and smiled fatuously instead.

He overheard the comment muttered by one of the boys to the one who had joined the hurley.

"Y'know, Sebastian I'd PAY to listen to Professor Zabini sing!"

"Me too" was the quiet reply.

Darryl waited until Mlle Duvall had retreated, glaring at the third as she went, and said,

"You don't actually have to pay to hear me sing because I shall probably be doing a lot of singing by way of demonstration; I enjoy it. It is NOT however necessary to even be able to hold a tune in a sack providing that you have a sense of rhythm; later in the course you might learn something of drumming in lieu or as an addition to chanting; even as Professor Snape did, the only one of us required to stay upright and chanting for the whole twelve hours of the chant. He interspersed each repetition of the chant with a beat on a drum called a bodhran that had a similar magical pattern. Chanting sets up magical patterns in the same way as any incantation does; the beauty of a chant is that one might either build upon and reiterate that incantation or change it subtly as one goes along to deal with each layer of, say, a recalcitrant curse. Oh and by the by, you can hear the beat if you listen to the Broomstick Boys' latest album, 'Freedom' which uses a version of the chant we used and the album sleeve gives the actual words. They were a part of the twelve hour chant; and their music contains magic. You will learn during this course that intent and appropriate rhythm, line length and wording are all important but that even extant popular songs or nursery rhymes may be borrowed and used – IF you know how to manipulate and use them. I believe the bell is – yes, has gone; don't forget your breathing. If you do, next time WILL hurt. Dismissed!"

It had gone well; and he retired to the staff room.

"Whatever were you singing?" asked Mademoiselle Duvall.

"It's a muggle song that demonstrates a note held long and loud" said Darryl "It's a better exemplar than an actual chant until the kids know a bit more. Besides, rock music appeals to the age-group. And moreover I like it" he added "And that has a great deal of bearing on the success of a chant. It's a question so often of using Assimilative Correlation by Association and that works so much better if allied with Assimilative Correlation by Cultural Familiarity. Or in the case of Lilith Snape, Assimilative Correlation by Jiggery Pokery for whom the most tenuous links work so long as they appeal to her twelve-year-old imagination. She's a way better chanter than I shall ever be so I just bow to her superior manipulation of raw magic; and assuming she DOES manage to circumvent the age line next year I doubt anyone else will have a cat's chance in Hell in the Triwizard."

"Preposterous!" said MlleDuvall "Surely Professor Fraser will not permit it?"

"Oh I doubt David will forbid her outright" said Darryl "Like the rest of us, he's curious to know if she can come up with a way round the age line. I think she will; I'll be putting several galleons on it actually. She IS the granddaughter of Voldemort after all."

"So Snape WAS his son?" gasped Duvall. Darryl gave a scornful laugh.

"No of course not!" he said "Krait Malfoy Snape is Tom Marvolo Riddle's daughter on an illegitimate Malfoy girl. Which was why she wanted to plot against her father; as well as his other iniquities he had abandoned her mother cruelly to die in childbed and leave Krait to be brought up in a muggle orphanage very nearly as dire as a German Kinderhaus for Goblins. As a teacher of DADA you ought to know that" he added censoriously. Let this ruddy woman say anything that sounded as though she meant it as a criticism of dad Severus!

"Oh" said Duvall, rather inadequately. There was not a lot else she could say.

xxx

Darryl was approached after school by the majority of the chanting class of the third – he MUST remember that they were the Quartième – and a selection of others with the request that he sing the whole song, please nicely.

Darryl laughed, and went to fetch his guitar.

The group listened to him in awe at his voice control; and the small first year watched his rapidly moving fingers on the guitar in admiration. He then played them the Broomstick Boys' 'Turning'; and then dismissed them firmly to do their homework. Keeping a selection of children – and some older ones for that matter – from their work would NOT endear him to the rest of the staff.

However it was interesting to see that the core of his fans were those who had played hurley; and had evidently brought friends along when Sebastian and Amelie Lafée had suggested bringing them in too; whose idea it almost had to be.

xxx

And it was also interesting next morning to see that the initial fourteen or so who had come to play hurley had swelled in numbers to join him – yawning and wishing that had not been importuned by the more enthusiastic ones in some cases – to run according to the English fashion. Darryl congratulated the small muggle boy, Emilien Perrin, who was in combats and a t-shirt; eminently sensible clothes for running in and easily laundered when they got sweaty as they would. He suggested similar to the others, or at least singlets and shorts.

"We'll run over a few breathing exercises first; the er Quartième are ahead of you here" he said "Get this lovely fresh cool early morning air deep into the lungs to dispel sleep and get you ready to tackle anything."

He was not so strenuous with them as with a chanting class; time enough for that another time.

"Where will we run?" asked Pharamond.

"That's something I looked into yesterday while I let the rest of you sleep in" said Darryl "I've picked an easy run for this morning, covering just a mile; and on soft turf that will feel easy under the feet. There are also a couple of places to take short cuts back to the school if anyone runs out of steam early. Some of you may be fitter than others; anyone used to exercise?"

"I think you should be aware sir, that Eduard Batonnoir here has ear problems" said one of the rivals – Darryl thought it was Marc Guiscard.

"Well I'm glad you brought it to my attention" said Darryl "What sort of problems, Eduard?"

"I've always been prone to ear infections and I'm partly deaf in one ear" said Eduard "They said it was a weakness that medical transfigurations couldn't fix."

Darryl cast the Revellaspell on the boy's ear; checked the other; and turned to the group.

"Perhaps you'll excuse me a moment while I sort Eduard's ear out" he said "A simple chant will sort it; which should show those of you who have opted for it the sort of things that are possible. Eduard has a chemical imbalance in his ears that produces too much wax in the wrong places; a subtle thing indeed for a transfiguration to sort out – though it's possible – but easy to do by persuading the ear to behave differently with a chant."

He based a chant that was mostly nonsense on the Wenlock Series, as he explained that the geometry of the inner ear was based on this series of numbers as many things in nature were. He also pointed out that for the highest levels of chanting Arithmancy was vital. Pharamond and the two boys he had brought along pulled long faces and Pharamond muttered that they had better get the text books and study on their own time.

The chant had Eduard's hand flying to his ear which burned red as though slapped; then his eyes widened as Darryl came to the end of his chant.

"Oh SIR! There's no pain; I guess I'd forgotten what it was LIKE not to be in pain!"

"Chanting; it's good" said Darryl.

"Please sir, some of us didn't sign up for the voluntary class; would you take extras?" asked one of his hurley players, the small boy with the Austrian accent.

"I certainly will" said Darryl "Anyone who was sufficiently moved to change their mind and take up chanting is welcome to do so. So long as you'll put in the hard work; because the breathing we did this morning is NOTHING on what I shall make you do for real work."

"I guess we can work as hard as anyone" said the boy stoutly.

They still had time for the run; but Darryl explained that with the extra chant there would be no time for any extras this morning unless anyone had something urgent they needed to raise when he would, personally, make time.

There was not; and Darryl was pleased that they went off chattering happily and excitedly and vowing to get up on the morrow!