-1Chapter 4: The Potters' Potential
"Stop it. Put the feather down," Ron ordered from across the Burrow's living room.
Hermione Weasley sat crossed legged, a feather quill in her writing hand and a long piece of parchment in the other. The paper was rolling off a chestnut desk, flowing from the table top to the ground below.
"It's been over two weeks, and I've only written to her once! Especially with what's happening… She might be devastated!" Hermione shouted back.
Ron rolled his blue eyes at her. "And she wrote back telling you she was going to be a little snoop and research the whole thing in the library…."
"What's wrong with that?" Hermione questioned.
"Cause she sounds exactly like you…"
Hermione hissed and growled, then continued writing. "There's nothing wrong with a little research, Ronald."
Adjusting his Muggle shirt, Ron walked across the room, nearly tripping on an old, thick rug carpeting the wooden floor. He hovered over Hermione's shoulder as she wrote 'Love and kisses' at the bottom.
He coughed, forcing her to turn her head slightly to acknowledge his presence. "McGonagall insists that our children are safe at Hogwarts and that the murder two weeks ago was nothing more than an accident, not a murder at all. I see no reason she would lie to us."
"No reason, Ron? She has every reason! If she told us that a murder truly happened don't you think half the school would have been brought home? She obviously knows who did it and has taken matters into her own hands… I just wish she trusted us enough to tell us who that was."
Ron looked baffled, his lips curled in a confused smirk. "But, Hermione, if you know there was a murder, or believe there was I guess, then why aren't we taking Rose out of school!?"
"Because she's safe there and figuring stuff out on her own. Imagine every time we snuck off to the lib- okay, when I snuck off to library to research things I shouldn't have. If my parents knew and understand half those things, I would have been taken out of Hogwarts my first year!" Hermione shouted to Ron, who again still looked baffled.
"You want our little girl to stay in a school where a murder just took place because you want her to research?! She can do that here! She's not you, Hermione! She's our little girl that needs our protection! My protection if you aren't willing to do it."
Hugo entered the room, his shirt untucked and messy. He held a cookie indented by one bite in his left hand, and a blue blanket full with a cuddly teddy bear print in the other. A sleepy look encrusted his eyes that only now slowly opened to his parents' arguing.
"Mum, Dad, did I just hear-" he yawned and continued, "did I just hear-" another yawn.
Ron sighed. "Go back to bed, Hugo."
"No," interrupted Hermione. Ron glared at her as she continued, "No, you should hear this."
Ron's face glowed with a crimson shade. "Go back to bed, now!"
Hugo, horrifically confused by his contradicting parents, obeyed neither of them. Instead, he dragged himself one sleepy foot after another into the kitchen for a glass of cold, white milk.
"Don't you ever do that again! The nerve of you," said Ron to Hermione who seemed just as angry.
"The nerve of me? You want to shield our son from the truth."
"Oh, he's just a boy, Hermione! He doesn't need to be stricken with fear about Hogwart's for the rest of his life. Rose has enough to deal with and-"
"Hugo needs to know! Rose will write to him and tell him as she's told us! Don't you think we should tell him and not his sister, just a year older than him?!"
She had a point there. Ron was about to respond by gut instinct, to yell at her once more, but instead he caught of a glimpse of Hugo in the kitchen, his little hand stuck instead his glass of milk, trying so very hard to dip his bitten chocolate chip cookie.
"We'll tell him first thing in the morning," sighed Ron. "But only what he needs to know."
"He'll need to know everything."
XXX
Classes resumed as normal for the two weeks after Winky's death. An alarming amount of students found this suspicious and were extra careful to clean up after themselves, in fear of running into a house-elf and witnessing yet another horrific murder scene.
Albert prepared himself for his course with Professor Merrythought by not preparing at all and by not borrowing his brother James' book. His parents had purchased him the same beginner's book that Rose had received. Relieved that this was somehow a mistake, he told his brother the news who happily hugged him and all seemed forgotten. Until the first day of class that is.
Professor Merrythought was a tall woman, with thin, dead strands of light blonde hair that crowned a pointed head. She wore a blue, pan shaped hat with a white feather sticking out of the side, held down by a ivory velvet ribbon.
She wore a matching suit, which included a jacket, vest and just below the knee skirt. Thick, ivy green army boots covered her rather petite feet, throwing off the neatness and niceness of her outfit entirely.
Standing in front of the class, which included an anxious James and a patient Albus, Merrythought tapped her Maplewood wand three times in the air. Every wizard and witch's book flipped open to the introduction of "The Dark Arts: Intermediary Defense."
"Good afternoon," she said in a light, whispering voice. "I am Professor Merrythought. As many of you already am aware, I am the daughter of the late Professor Galatea Merrythought, my mother. She was a fine teacher, and I shall follow many of her old teaching plans. I may look young," she said as she played with her hair a bit, "But I have lived a long, eventful life! I lived through the Great Battle of Hogwarts." The class seemed to perk at this, including James, who was already blushing at his attractive new teacher. "Not at Hogwarts, but within the Ministry. I witnessed the overturn and the revolution afterwards. If my mother had not taught me how to defend myself, then I would not have survived. My experience will serve all of you well."
James raised his hand.
"Yes?"
"I'm James, James Potter," he started.
"Oh, yes, I am well aware that you would grace my class! And your brother as well."
Albus raised his brow. She knew he was there? Knew he was supposed to be there? Maybe she just recognized him sitting in the class. She was going to talk to him after class. Yes, that must be it, Albus convinced himself of it.
"Yes, my brother is here. I thought this was a second year class, and if I'm not mistaken, which I'm not, my brother is a first year," James pointed out.
Thoroughly embarrassed, Albus' turned pink and slunk back into his chair. Expecting Merrythought to throw him out, levitate him away, Albus closed his eyes tight and waited.
Suddenly, Merrythought snapped her wand in the air and a jar of sand appeared. She smiled at James who looked back puzzled. "Do you know what this sand measures, Mister James Potter?" He shook his head. "Thought not. It measures potential. You have this much." The sand jar tilted and a few inches of sand fell to the bottom. Suddnely, Merrythought snapped her wand again and another nearly identical jar appeared, this one with just a little more sand. "Mister Albus Potter, do you know what this is?"
It took Albus a few seconds to realize she was addressing him. "Um, my, my potential?"
"Very good! 5 points to Gryffindor," she said. "So you can see, Mister James Potter, that your brother has the same, and perhaps a bit more, than you and thus deserves to be here. If any one else in this class would like know their potential-" Several wizards and witches looked up excitedly, wanting to know if they had more than the Potter boys.
Merrythought continued, "then I suggest you look deep within yourself and discover through vigorous studying what you can accomplish." There were several moans at her answer.
Class continued on with Merrythought reading aloud the introduction. Albus turned to his brother James who made every effort possible to look away. After one last attempt, Albus decided for sure that his brother would never speak to him again.
