A Whole New World Chapter 4
The Great Hall was bustling with excited energy, students chatting enthusiastically amongst one another, ghosts soaring down the house tables, and platters overflowing with breakfast foods. The first day back at school for the new year at Hogwarts was an enchanting day for all students. Especially for Octavia, for she didn't realise just how much she loved Hogwarts until she spent an entire summer away from the magical castle.
There was no doubt in her mind that she primarily missed her friends. Pansy and Blaise had written frequently to her over the course of the holidays between school years, but as she was a muggle-born and their parents were former Death Eaters, needless to say, she wasn't allowed to visit them at their homes. No matter. They had ensured that the entire clique would be at Diagon Alley on the same day to shop for their school supplies. And as Hermione and Octavia had spent that night at the Leaky Cauldron, they got to enjoy the company of their respective friend groups all the way through to dinner.
Hermione and Octavia had spent the majority of their holidays together, having bonded over their magical abilities and longing to return to Hogwarts. But at Diagon Alley, they had quickly fell back into their jarred school relationship, not spending the day together at all, and instead, splitting up. Hermione spent her day with Ronald Weasley, Ginny Weasley and Neville Longbottom, whereas Octavia had enjoyed the company of her own clique.
Octavia and Blaise had become quite close – platonically, of course – over the duration of the first school year. She was now proud to say that he was one of her best friends at the school. Due to that fact, she was seated between him and Pansy at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. The others, Harry, Draco and Theo, sat across from them, while Daphne – as usual – sat at the very end of the table. Only, rather than been alone like she usually was, she sat with her younger sister, Astoria, whom had been sorted into Slytherin the evening prior.
Grabbing the silver serving spoon, Octavia scooped out a mass of strawberries from the fruit bowl, dumping them onto her copper plate. She repeated this several times until her metal plate was overflowing before she helped herself to generous scoops of freshly whipped cream.
"Want some strawberries with your cream, Tavs?" Blaise teased, eyeing her white-covered mountain of fruit.
"Nah," Octavia grinned, filling her ruby-encrusted goblet with freshly brewed coffee.
At home, her parents would never allow her to consume the 'adult' beverage that was coffee, but at Hogwarts, no one batted an eye. At first, she didn't really like the bitter liquid, but after forcing herself to drink it a few times in her first year, Octavia had become quite fond of the beverage. As well as somewhat reliant on it at breakfast. Octavia now found that she would be a little on the grumpy side if she didn't get her morning coffee. At aged twelve, it was probably not best to have an addiction, but it could be worse, right?
A laugh at the end of the table caught O's attention, the muggle-born leaning back in her chair to glance at the Greengrass sisters. Daphne wasn't laughing – she never did. Astoria was chatting and giggling away, apparently in high spirits. Those two girls were complete contrasts of one another.
Raising her brows in wonder, Octavia shook her head and returned her now-gluttonous attention to her breakfast pile.
"What's up with Astoria?" Octavia asked, using her hands to munch away at her strawberries.
"What'd you mean?" Pansy quirked her brow, placing strips of crispy bacon on her plate.
"She seems alright," O shrugged. "Nothing like Daphne."
Harry stretched his arms up in the air, groaning as a ripple of pleasure ran through him from the movement. He rubbed his hands over his tired face before grabbing his goblet of pumpkin juice.
"Daph's a bit weird," Harry yawned. "Tori's normal, but bloody annoying."
"She doesn't seem that annoying." Octavia mumbled, talking with a mouthful of strawberries.
Draco glanced up at her as she spoke with food rolling around in her mouth, his lips twitching into a smile before he returned his attentions to his game of Hangman with Theo. Although he was definitely hanging on every word that O spoke, but she didn't notice. She tended to ignore him.
Even though Draco had taught her a spell the year prior, she hadn't warmed to him in the slightest. He was still a prat in her books, and his mean streak had become more apparent to her. He hadn't called Hermione anything cruel since the detention that Draco and O had shared, but he was mean to others. A bully; plain and simple. Even the older kids were intimidated by him, but she suspected that it had a lot to do with his powerful father.
"You'll see," Harry grinned wolfishly, wiggling his brows at O. "I dare you talk to her once. Just once."
"Why?" O frowned.
"Because she'll never leave you alone after that," Pansy sighed. "I said hello to her one time at Theo's birthday party a few years back."
"Yeah, so?"
"So it took me two years to get her to stop randomly floo-ing to my manor." Pansy groaned. "One time I came home from Diagon Alley with my parents and she was in my bedroom. The house-elves said that she had been there for hours, just playing with my toys."
Octavia pushed out her bottom lip in somewhat of a pouting gesture. "That's kinda sad. Maybe she doesn't have any friends?"
"She has her sister," Harry shrugged.
"Yeah, but Daphne's not really fun to be around," O scoffed.
"True," Harry nodded.
"It's inbreeding," Blaise drawled, ruffling O's curls to irritate her.
It worked. She scowled at him and whacked his hand away before righting her tousled tresses.
"Inbreeding?" Octavia asked, still scowling at her Italian friend.
"Pureblood families marry each other to preserve the bloodlines," Blaise smirked, watching as she still brushed her fingers through her wild curls. "There aren't many of us left though, so sometimes cousins marry each other."
"Ew!" Octavia whined, gazing at him in complete disgust and incredulity.
"It might be shocking and gross to you," Theo said, his stare fixed on the game of Hangman. "But to us, it's normal. We try and avoid it, but sometimes it happens. The Greengrass sisters are the perfect example of why we avoid it when we can."
"They're inbred?"
"Their parents are second-cousins," Draco said, glancing up at her like a puppy seeking affection. "But their father- well, his parents were first-cousins."
"Oh." Octavia nodded, pretending that she wasn't completely disgusted.
"Does it not happen in the muggle world?" Pansy asked.
"Nah," Octavia shook her head. "It's illegal to marry a relative or have babies with family. And … most people just don't want to anyway."
"What about arranged marriages?" Blaise asked, mildly interested.
Blaise regularly showed an interest in Octavia's heritage. It was one of the foundations that they built their friendship on. Most of the others didn't really ask her questions about the muggle world. Except Draco, of course, but she mostly pretended that she hadn't heard him speak. If she ignored him, he would sometimes share his sweets with her to gain her attention. Expensive and delicious sweets.
"They happen, but only in like countries with different religions and stuff." Octavia shrugged, not really understanding the reasons for arranged marriages in the muggle world. "I think it only happens in the Middle East … I dunno though. We don't really talk about it at home, so yeah."
"We have arranged marriages," Blaise drawled, looking less than pleased about that fact.
"That sucks," O gazed at him sympathetically. "Can you choose?"
"No," Blaise shook his head. "Fortunately, there aren't many of us, so I am not engaged to anyone."
"Not yet, anyway," Harry grinned. "You'll probably get Daphne or Astoria."
"Will not," Blaise snapped, a childish scowl on his tanned and handsome features.
"You never know," Harry winked.
"You're not a pureblood," Octavia said to Harry, stating the obvious.
"Good observation," Harry laughed. "Any more fun facts to share with us?"
"Shut up," Octavia scowled. "I mean that you won't have to marry someone you don't like, right?"
"Exactly," Harry smirked. "I'll never marry anyone. I'll be single like Sirius. He says that wives are mean and that it's like living with a teacher or a boss forever. They tell you what to do all the time and yell at you a lot."
"Mum says that husbands are lazy though," Octavia countered. "They don't do anything and get beer bellies and erectile dystfunctom."
"What's an erectile dystfuctom?" Theo frowned.
"I dunno." Octavia shrugged. "Mum's always yelling at dad for buying things he shouldn't though, so I think that it's something that husbands buy."
Draco and Theo nodded in perfect unison, seemingly accepting her explanation.
"Mail's here," Pansy said, glancing up at the open windows.
Swarms of owls – and a few eagles – soared in through the various windows, all carrying parcels or letters with them. The birds separated in the air, veering off to the tables of their respective recipients. The Slytherin clique all gazed up at the owls, spotting their own amidst the swarm before the birds flew down toward them.
Octavia smiled as Violet – her baby owl – landed neatly in front of her, the others' owls doing the same. Violet carried an envelope in her tiny beak, Octavia taking it from the bird before it turned its attentions to the water goblet. It drank leisurely from the goblet as Octavia opened the envelope and removed the letter.
Octavia,
Hope you're enjoying your first day back at school, and that you haven't been mean to your cousin. Remember, we hear everything. Especially myself, as your mother. I just know things. So be on your best behaviour.
I'm writing to you early as I was cleaning your bedroom last night, thinking about how much I was going to miss you, and couldn't wait to see you over Christmas already. It was then that I found something under your mattress.
Now. I recall you explaining that first year students at Hogwarts were not issued grades on their performances. I remember you telling me that in great detail, actually. You had even said that you wished they had exams, just so you could show us how well you did. Imagine my surprise when I found your report card under your mattress, Octavia.
I'm not sure what the grades mean, (they're just a bunch of random letters) but I have written to your Head of House to inquire about that. Professor Smells, I believe you said? An odd surname to have. Well, I will send Professor Smells a letter today to find out what your grades mean, but I'm sure that even in the wizarding world that 'Ds' are not good.
Other than that, hope you are well and look forward to seeing you over Christmas.
Love,
Mum.
P.S. Your dad says hello and asks if you took his chocolates from his secret stash in the garage.
Boring and the same old.
Octavia tossed the letter onto the table before resuming her consumption of strawberries as her owl took off with a hoot of farewell. She watched as Draco folded his crisp parchment letter in his hand and set to opening the parcel he had received. Octavia assumed that it was from his mother, as the woman had constantly sent Draco parcels of sweets and treats during their first year. And she was correct.
Draco removed the lid of the white box, revealing a mass of various sweets and treats inside. Instantly, she spotted her favourites in the box; chocolate wands with a peppermint centre. Draco glanced up at her before removing the tied bundle of wands and handing them to her.
They gazed at one another for a moment, both blinking stupidly as he blushed. Harry snickered at the scene, Blaise quirking his brows, but the others were too preoccupied with their own parcels and letters to notice – or they didn't care.
Pursing her lips, Octavia reached forward and took the bundle from his grasp before pulling them toward her quickly and stuffing them into her school bag. She wanted to be quick and hurried about it, lest he change his mind.
"Thanks," O mumbled half-heartedly under her breath, Draco blushing profusely as he nodded.
Harry peered into the box, stopping Draco from replacing the lid.
"Oi!" Harry shouted as Draco tried to shove his head away from the box of sweets. "I just want a sugarquill, mate."
"Get your own," Draco scowled, both boys shoving at each other.
"You gave her sweets!" Harry complained.
"You can't have any!" Draco snapped, whacking Harry's hands away from the box harshly.
Harry's counter complaint didn't get the chance to even slip off his tongue, for the Headmaster rose from his chair at the faculty table. The entire Great Hall fell into a silence almost instantly, all students' paying total attention to Dumbledore.
"The very best of mornings to you!" The Headmaster declared in a loud, yet surprisingly gentle voice. "Before we begin our first day of term, I am reminded to inform you that the Forbidden Forest is just that; forbidden to anyone who does not wish to die a most painful death. Our caretaker, Mr Filch, has ensured that each common room noticeboard has the updated list of prohibited items for this term, and a request has been made to ask all students to refrain from transfiguring Mrs Norris into a toad." The Headmaster paused, peering over his narrow spectacles at a grinning Harry Potter and smirking Draco Malfoy before he resumed his speech. "To our new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you. Now a few words of wisdom; babbity rabbity, and lemon drops."
At the end of the recycled speech from the year prior, the students in the Great Hall resumed their chatter as the food supplies disappeared from the table. Prefects and the Head Boy and Girl all rose from their seats, setting to herding and guiding the anxious first years out of the Hall and to their classes.
"I swear, he's barking mad that one," Theo mocked as they all rose from their seats.
"Yeah," Harry agreed, nodding slightly as he swung his satchel over his shoulder. "But brilliant."
Draco arched his brow at his messy haired friend, Harry shrugging at the look of surprise and outrage. The blond quickly stuffed his box of treats into his unicorn-leather satchel, his eyes narrowed on his friend for saying such things.
"He is," Harry said. "Mad, but a genius."
Octavia nodded in agreement, already munching away on a chocolate wand from her new supply. She swung her bag over her shoulder as they dispersed, making their way through the Great Hall and out into the central foyer.
As they reached the atrium, the group relinked and journeyed down to the dungeons for their first class of the day; double potions. From the slight bickering between Draco and Harry, she concluded that they were still discussing Harry's comment in regards to Headmaster Dumbledore.
"Think about it," Harry began, presenting his case. "We all know that he's a bit loopy, but he can't be a complete crackpot. He invented a new Dragon Pox cure, he's the best sorcerer alive and has more achievements than the Minister of Magic."
"What achievements?" Octavia asked, falling into step beside Blaise.
Draco and Harry sauntered in front of them, the narrow dungeon corridors not allowing more than two persons at once to walk together. Pansy and Theo dawdled behind the group, not paying much attention to the discussion taking place, much more interested in goading the portraits as the Gryffindor Knight ran through to keep up. He was an odd painting, that one.
"First Class Order of Merlin," Blaise answered in his ever-present drawl. "He has six of them."
"Six?" Octavia repeated, raising her brows.
"Yeah," Harry nodded, shoving by a lost first year. "And he wrote that essay on the twelve uses of Dragon Blood."
"Have you read it?" Blaise smirked at the back of Harry's head.
"Nah," Harry laughed. "Sirius has though- he bloody worships the guy."
"Father loathes him," Draco drawled. "For good reason too. He's nothing more than old crazy man. Hogwarts would be better off with Snape as Headmaster."
"Snape?" Octavia scrunched up her nose in distaste. "I think you're the one who's mad."
Draco didn't respond and continued to walk straight ahead through the corridor, but she could tell by Harry's side-glance and snicker that the blond was blushing again. He seemed to be the only person whom she had ever encountered to blush more than she did.
Harry led the way into the potions classroom, the shades drawn and sparse candles floating above to illuminate the dim room. They instantly separated into their assigned pairs from the year prior; Blaise and Octavia in the front row, Pansy and Theo at the back, and Draco and Harry in the second row. The Gryffindors poured into the room moments after, setting up their stations and settling in to the right side of the room. The Granger cousins smiled in greeting at one another before pulling out their tomes and potions sets.
No one dared to chat whilst waiting for the Potions Professor to enter, lest they were issued a detention. Snape had a way of sensing chatter amongst students before he had even joined them in the classroom. Even the Slytherins remained silent as all students seated themselves.
Moments after, a billowing cloak stormed into the classroom, the heavy wooden door slamming behind it. The cloak concealed the Potions Master as he approached the chalkboard and immediately set to scribbling instructions with a broken piece of chalk.
"For first term, we will be learning about the properties of the potent Sleeping Draught before brewing it. If you are all not as dim-witted as last year, we should successfully concoct the potion without much injury." Snape said, stepping away from the chalkboard and tossing the chalk onto his desk. "Can anyone tell me what the Sleeping Draught is used for?"
As predictable as ever, Hermione's hand shot up in the air, her bottom perched on the edge of the seat as she seemed to stretch herself to impossible measures.
"No one?" Snape drawled, his upper lip curling as he scanned the students before him. "What a shame."
Hermione grunted as she stretched her body further, almost lifting herself from the seat. It almost seemed like she was bursting for permission to go to the toilets from her squirming and desperateness.
"A Sleeping Draught causes the drinker to fall almost instantly into a deep, dreamless sleep." Snape said, ignoring Hermione entirely. "Can anyone provide examples as to when this particular potion would be advantageous?"
Hermione's hand was still raised in the air, her other hand gripping her thin bicep to support the gesture, her arm already aching apparently. Blaise flicked his hand in the air briefly, Snape instantly fixing his beady black eyes on the Italian.
"Mr Zabini," Snape drawled, granting him permission to answer.
Hermione scowled and dropped her arm, appearing rather downcast. Octavia shot her a sympathetic glance but her cousin's narrowed eyes were on the Professor who played favourites among the houses. It was no secret that he hated Gryffindor, especially the smart students belonging to said house.
"A Sleeping Draught is useful for those who are injured or traumatised," Blaise answered casually, reclining in his chair. "If the drinker is injured, it will stop them from waking up during the night in pain and allows the healing potions to work on their bodies while they sleep. If the drinker is traumatised, it lets them sleep without dreaming and reliving the events that they are upset by."
"Five points to Slytherin," Snape inclined his head, all Slytherins grinning and 'yes-ing' in response.
Blaise smirked and appeared rather pleased with himself as Octavia nudged him playfully on the arm, smiling at him.
"Can anyone tell me the difference between the standard Sleeping Draught and Draught of the Living Dead?" Snape droned, walking up the wide centre between the two clusters of desks.
Draco raised his hand for a moment, his gaze darting between the back of O's head and Professor Snape.
"Mr Malfoy," Snape drawled, ignoring Hermione's hand in the air entirely.
"Sleeping Draught is a simple concoction that lasts anywhere between six and twelve hours," Draco drawled, frequently glancing at Octavia's tight blonde curls. "It only takes one month to brew, but Draught of the Living Dead takes eight months, two weeks, three days and one hour to brew, if done correctly. Draught of the Living Dead can be fatal if brewed incorrectly, and its effects can last up to a year. Some cases show that even the most accurate of concoctions have slipped their drinkers into comas indefinitely. There is even a wing at St Mungo's just for the comas caused by Draught of the Living Dead."
"Very good," Snape drawled, strolling back to the desk. "Ten points to Slytherin."
Draco stared at the back of Octavia's head, waiting for a smile that she had given Blaise for gaining house points. It didn't come. She didn't even glance at him.
Frowning in confusion and dismay, Draco slumped over the desk as Harry snickered.
"She'll never go for it, mate," Harry whispered as Snape resumed writing on the chalkboard. "You should just give up."
"Don't know what you're talking about," Draco mumbled, resting his forehead on the pages of his book.
"She fancies Blaise," Harry grinned, ignoring Draco's poor attempt at feigning ignorance.
"No she doesn't," Draco scowled, the expression hidden by the book he buried his face into. "They're just friends."
"Thought you didn't know what I was talking about?" Harry snickered.
Draco didn't respond and fell into a silence as Snape stepped away from the chalkboard.
"Page 823," Snape drawled.
On cue, the students opened their books to the correct page, met with the ingredient list for the standard Sleeping Draught. Draco rested his chin on the heel of his hand as he lazily flicked through the pages of his book, his miserable silver gaze fixed on tight blonde curls.
Octavia listened to Hermione babble on incessantly about Arithmancy as they took their seats in the bright and eccentric classroom. As Octavia was the only Slytherin who took Muggle Studies as an elective, she was allowed to sit with whoever she liked. The teacher was one of the kinder in the school, so permitted – and even encouraged – mingling between the four houses.
The class was hardly the most popular, so there were only nine students that occupied the room; one Slytherin, three Gryffindors, two Ravenclaws and four Hufflepuffs. Professor Burbage, an excitable and friendly woman, stood at the forefront of the class as she waited for the students to seat themselves.
Thanks to this subject, Octavia had lifted her entire overall grade in first year. To Octavia, it was an easy pass, for she knew most of the information taught by the Professor already. Due to her first-hand experience with residing in the muggle world, Octavia had achieved an Outstanding grade for her first-year, thereby gaining an overall Acceptable for her studies. It was the primary reason that Octavia had continued to study the subject, and would do throughout the remainder of her Hogwarts career.
"Welcome, welcome," Professor Burbage greeted with a gentle smile. "It is lovely to see familiar faces this year."
Octavia glanced around at the meagre amount of students, noting that they had all been in the much larger class the year prior. Most students this year, however, had evidently opted to study the other elective, Herbology, as they ran at the same time.
"Now," Burbage smiled, leaning back against the desk. "Do we have any muggle-borns in the class today?"
Every single student raised their hands in response, glancing around at one another with small smiles and raised brows.
"Wonderful!" The teacher declared, clapping her hands together. "This will interest you all, then!"
With peaked curiosity, Octavia returned her attention to the teacher and listened intently.
"Now, as we know, the number of muggle-borns that attend Hogwarts each year is dismal compared to half-bloods and pure-bloods." The teacher said. "Can anyone tell me why that is?"
No one responded or raised their hands in the air. Not even Hermione, who looked utterly enthralled already.
"Well, not to worry," Burbage smiled. "We will learn the reason for that today. Page 113, please."
The nine students obeyed instantly, opening their tomes to the assigned page and reading the title that they were met with: Muggle-Borns and Magical Heritage.
"Professor," Hermione called, raising her hand as her brows knitted together. "What have muggle-borns got to do with Muggle Studies?"
"Glad you asked!" Burbage declared, flicking her wand toward a magical contraption by the doors.
The projector-like device switched on as the lights turned off completely, the blackboard turning white and reflecting images from the device. Perhaps it was actually a projector that the teacher had charmed to run on magic? Octavia wouldn't be surprised, for the woman was mad for muggles and their inventions, despite being a pure-blood.
The image that was shown on the now-white blackboard featured the ancient and famous wizard, Merlin.
"As we know, Merlin was a brilliant and impressively skilled sorcerer," the teacher said, standing by the image with her wand in hand. "There are many myths and mistruths that surround his legend, but what we do know, is that he produced two children with his wife."
The tip of the wand tapped against the blackboard, the image changing into a family portrait of the legendary wizard.
"The boy was born with no magical abilities, but the girl showed signs of great power from her toddler years." Burbage informed. "Not much is known about the boy, not even his name has been documented. All we know is that he was sent away from the family at aged four and sent to a muggle village. A wizard-born muggle, as we call them in politically correct terms. Otherwise known as a squib by those who are more ignorant on the subject."
Another tap of the wand and the image changed to that of a quaint muggle village in the earlier centuries.
"Most wizard-born muggles are sent to live in the muggle world, even to this day. But it has only been discovered in the last four centuries that the magic could potentially exist within their blood." Burbage explained with an excited gleam in her eyes. "The magic is dormant for some time, according to theory, whether it be two generations or one hundred! It is through the ancestry of wizard-born muggles that muggle-borns come into existence, according to the theory formed by Nicholas Flamel."
Almost every student sat on the edge of their seats in anticipation, captivated by the information. That they potentially had magical blood in their veins from perhaps thousands of years ago.
"As the generational difference from the wizard-borns and their ancestral muggle-born relatives is so vast, it is almost impossible to prove this theory." Burbage said. "Can anyone tell me why it is difficult to trace the roots of muggle-borns back to ancient wizarding families?"
Hermione's hand shot up like a bolt of lightning, Burbage inclining her head at the girl instantly.
"Muggles are higher in population to magical folk," Hermione answered primly. "Perhaps it is due to muggles' extensive population that it is difficult to source a muggle-born's heritage."
"In part, yes." Burbage smiled. "Five points to Gryffindor."
Hermione sat smugly in her chair, but there was a noticeable vexation to her honey brown eyes at only answering correctly to an extent.
"Anyone else?" Burbage prompted.
Octavia frowned as she hesitantly raised her hand in the air, just above her head as though doubting herself already.
"Miss Granger?" Burbage raised her brows at Octavia, allowing her to answer.
"Um," Octavia mumbled, her cheeks rosy already. "Muggles don't really keep track of … like, our family lines and stuff. I don't know who my great great grandparents are, or anything, because we don't really … um … My family don't really worry about where we came from or our heritage. But in the wizarding world, all families keep record of where and who they came from, so it's easier for them to keep track."
"Excellent," Burbage declared proudly. "Five points to Slytherin."
Octavia beamed brilliantly at the Professor, sitting up straight and radiating with pride. It was extraordinarily rare for Octavia to answer questions in class, let alone receive points for responding correctly. So she was quite pleased with herself indeed.
"Only of late have muggles been showing an interest in their heritage, and that mostly only applies to descendants of immigrants. Due to the lack of documented lineage over the centuries, it is almost impossible to trace their ancestry back to potential magical folk. This is because any one of you right here in front of me, could be the descendent of a wizard-born from thousands of years ago. When we are comparing the muggle and magical world, we must understand the vast difference in population," Burbage explained, tapping her wand against the blackboard.
The image on the board changed to a picture of a wizard and muggle man standing side by side.
"The wizarding community in Britain has a population of approximately 3,000, whereas the muggle population stands at 64.1 million. When we compare these figures, it is easier to put it into perspective. As there are so many muggles in Britain alone, the difficulty of tracing a muggle-borns lineage is simply impossible in most cases."
"Professor," Justin Finch-Fletchley said. "If it's impossible to know where muggle-borns came from, how did the theory start?"
"Very good question, Mr Finch-Fletchley." Burbage praised, tapping her wand against the blackboard.
The image changed again, this time to a shadowy pencil drawing of … Octavia and Hermione! They were standing hand-in-hand, the sketch pretty accurate in the detailing of their features, although Octavia was absolutely certain that her nose wasn't upturned. Blasted woman.
"Here we have an image, drawn by own hand, so I do apologise for its atrocity," Burbage said modestly. "This here is an image of our own Granger girls."
Hermione and Octavia frowned at one another before returning their stares to the drawing of them both in school robes. Octavia almost laughed as she inspected Hermione's hair in the sketch, noting that it generally consisted of zig-zagging scribbles.
"Two muggle-born witches of the same family," Burbage explained. "Cousins, yes?"
Both girls nodded, all other students staring at them with palpable interest.
"How peculiar," Burbage smiled. "Two muggle-borns to come from the same bloodline. How is it that you are related?"
"Our dads," both girls answered in perfect unison.
"Brothers, I presume?"
They nodded, Octavia scooting a little closer to her desk as though nearing the teacher would bring her enlightenment and brilliant discoveries.
"It would be the lineage of your fathers that carried dormant magical blood," Burbage explained. "Magic that had awoken in each of you."
The teacher tapped her wand against the blackboard, the image changing to a sketch of two young boys that Octavia did not know.
"Because of the heritable traits of magic, Muggle-born siblings are possible, as well as cousins." Burbage said. "As in the case of Colin and Dennis Creevey, two first years that were both sorted into Gryffindor yesterday evening. Imagine my luck when I was assigned to the twins to explain to their parents of their powers and all about Hogwarts. However, this is not always the case; most muggle-borns will find that they are alone in their powers. It is rare for the magic to pass down to two persons within one generation of a single family. Rare, but it does occur."
Each muggle-born student displayed mirroring expressions of wonder and awe, all hanging on the Professor's each and every word.
"With muggle-borns, the magic that they possess can be considered quite powerful," Burbage said, tapping her wand against the chalkboard.
The image changed to a cluster of pictures, ranging from the four elements and – presumable – muggle-borns amidst the chaos. Some had wands, others didn't, but they seemed to all be in control of these elements.
"It is not always the case, of course, but there appears to be a pattern with muggle-borns," Burbage informed, moving to stand at the front of the desk and lean against it. "More often than not, muggle-borns show the average amount of magical power. However, like with half-bloods and pure-bloods, there are the diamonds waiting to be uncovered. The exceptional muggle-borns – like the exceptional wizards and witches of any blood origin – show extraordinary talents and skills. Notable muggle-borns, to mention a few, are Newt Scamander, Kendra Dumbledore and Sir Nicholas Flamel. Can anyone tell me what these three muggle-borns had in common?"
The students glanced around at one another, no one able to answer the question. Even Hermione looked a little perplexed, but that was likely due to the fact that Kendra Dumbledore was hardly famous. Her abilities and skills were unknown, and truth be told, they had never heard of the woman until that moment. So how any of them could correlate a common denominator between the three was simply beyond them.
"All three could control one of the four elements. Scamander is able to manoeuvre water, Kendra Dumbledore was able to vanquish air, as well as conjure it, and Sir Flamel can, to this day, manipulate earth by causing such things like earthquakes." Burbage smiled. "Very ancient magic that had been extinct for some time. Every once in a while, a muggle-born will reveal these incredibly powerful abilities- abilities that even sorcerers such as Grindelwald, Headmaster Dumbledore and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named cannot produce. To possess the ability of elemental control is magic older than Merlin himself, and impossible to teach oneself. It is a gift that must be inherited for one to possess."
Octavia slumped back into her chair, her expression morphing into disinterest and tedium. The ability to possess elemental control was apparently extraordinarily rare, so hardly applied to anyone in that classroom. If it did, however, Octavia would wager a bet that Hermione would be the lucky one. She always was.
"No one has been reported to have control over fire in over six thousand years, since Hammurabi; the first wizard on record to have the ability to control an element."
The massive copper bell in the clock tower began to ring through the stone walls of the castle, vibrating six chimes to indicate that it was the end of the school day. As the lesson had been so interesting, however, the students slowly began to pack their bags, instead of rushing out of the classroom like they normally did.
"I would like a short essay – no more than five paragraphs – on this theory, whether you are refuting or concurring it." Burbage said as they all began to make their way to the door. "Be sure to address elemental magic in muggle-borns within the body of your essay. We will take turns in reading out our essays in front of the class before discussing the arguments together."
Octavia groaned with a few other students as they departed the classroom. If there was one thing she hated more in the world than pumpkin juice, it was public speaking. Perhaps she could convince Draco to give her a puking pastel from his secret stash so she could get out of it.