- Chapter 4 -
Back To School
Hermione sat at her place at the Head Table, eagerly awaiting the first Sorting she would attend as a Professor. To her right sat Minerva, and to her left was Maximus Brankovitch, the Flying Instructor and Slytherin Head of House. None of the students had arrived yet, however all of the staff were seated, ready for their arrival. She turned to Maximus next to her, as Minerva was busy going over her welcoming speech again.
"Professor Brankovitch," she queried gently, "I've been meaning to ask you for some advice." He smiled encouragingly at her.
"Well then why didn't you? My office, and rooms are always open to beautiful women such as yourself. Call me Maximus, by the way" He teased her.
"You might as well live on the Quidditch field, Maximus." Hermione returned. "To speak with you I would have had to get on a broom and catch you first. You're an amazing flyer though, I watched you a couple of times from a window."
"Ah, I'm not what I used to be." Maximus smiled wryly. "Do you fly much, Professor Granger?"
"Hermione. And no, I don't fly much. It's never been a strength of mine." She ducked her head as a blush crept across her face.
"Perhaps I could teach you sometime?" Maximus offered, a charming smile on his face. "I promise to catch you if you fall," Hermione blushed prettily across her cheeks, and her head dipped slightly.
"Anyone would think you to be flirting with me, Maximus," she smiled.
"And anyone would be right, Hermione." Before Hermione could think of an appropriate response, the first trickle of students appeared in the hall, and the time for banter was past.
Hermione noted despondently that the two eldest years of her house were fairly sparsely populated. Several seventh years she had tutored during her sixth year smiled and waved at her, obviously assuming she was a 'guest'. Hermione smiled back at them tightly, nodding her head whilst inwardly seeing how many names she could remember.
There was Euan Abercrombie, who'd struggled with Transfigurations, and next to him sat Melissa Paul who had been a regular Neville when it came to Potions. Across from them sat Derrick Lopes and Nellie Verns who she vaguely remembered had sat with friends that she had tutored. Her eyes couldn't help but to look at the seats around them that should have been filled by students such as Johnathon Gorley and Frieda Betty, Bethany Degbert and Lucy Farmer. She turned her face to the enchanted ceiling to prevent the tears from falling.
A hand on her arm startled her from her reverie, causing her whole head to jerk towards the arm, her hand still reaching for her wand. It took a moment for her to remember that the man she was looking at was just Maximus, just a Professor at Hogwarts. Someone safe.
"They're in a better place, you know?" He said softly. "Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff escaped pretty well, but you should have seen Gryffindor and Slytherin when I first came here, right after the war. I shed a tear or three for the state of the kids. Most of the ones left are better these days, though I would suggest carrying three handkerchiefs at least." He paused, before leaning in closely. "Just be glad you're not a Hufflepuff tutor. I think that half of Professor Chittock's body weight is handkerchiefs."
As Hermione opened her mouth to respond to the pithy comment, a hush came across the Great Hall, and every Professor stood. Maximus gracefully covered for her slow rise, graciously pulling out her chair for her, and offering his hand. On Hermione's right, Minerva smiled at them warmly, glad to see a Gryffindor and a Slytherin together.
Filius entered the room, a long trail of first-years lined up behind him. The professors sat as the last student entered. Maximus leaned over to her, and pointed at the third boy in line, who seemed to be dancing about, and poking the girl in front of him.
"Bet he's one of yours." He whispered softly. Hermione glared at him, before pointing at the girl being poked.
"Bet she's one of yours, look!" Even as she said it, the girl raised her foot, and stepped backwards onto the boy's foot without looking. A small smirk graced her face. Maximus grinned.
"Well then, the first one's a Hufflepuff. See how nervous she is?" They played their guessing game for the entire sorting, getting a disturbingly high percentage right, although they had disagreed on several students. One bookish-looking girl Maximus had been sure would be put into Ravenclaw, Hermione had thought would most definitely become a Gryffindor. When she was sorted into Hufflepuff, both of them had to struggle not to giggle.
All too soon, the sorting had finished, and the plates had all been scraped clean. Hermione was shocked at how the time had flown; she had enjoyed a long conversation with Maximus, and had had a few words with the Headmistress too. The room seemed to turn as one to look at the Headmistress, waiting for the customary Welcoming speech. True to form, Minerva stood, and tapped her wand to her throat.
"Sonorous," she whispered. "Welcome, welcome all of you to Hogwarts! I welcome old hands and new friends, staff and students alike. I would first like to introduce a new member of staff here, Madam Soin, our mediwitch. Madam Soin was previously Senior Mediwitch at a facility in France, so I am sure that she will be able to put us all to rights." There was a smattering of polite applause, but Hermione could see several faces pointed her way which held curious expressions.
"Thank you. I would now like to introduce an old hand that most of you should know. Some of you elder students may have been tutored by her in your younger years, and even more of you will have read of her, and heard of her exploits. May I present Professor Granger, who…" A spontaneous round of applause cut off Minerva's words, and Hermione felt tears prick at her eyes when she saw even the Slytherin students clapping.
"Professor Granger will be teaching Defense Against The Dark Arts, and will also be taking over the role of Head of Gryffindor House, as Professor Longbottom has stepped down in order to take care of the Forbidden Forest. I would like to congratulate our new Head Boy, Euan Abercrombie of Gryffindor, and our new Head Girl, Rose Zeller of Hufflepuff. Will the Prefects please lead the rest of the students back to the dormitories, goodnight!"
- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -
Hermione leant on her desk at the front of the classroom, watching her first class enter the room. Her eyes flicked across them critically; sixth year Gryffindors and Slytherins. They sat in friendship groups, she noticed. Gryffindors with Gryffindors, and Slytherins with Slytherins. As soon as the classroom was full, Hermione lifted her hand and the door slammed shut.
"Everybody stand. I want to mix things up. When you are in my classroom, you won't sit next to somebody of the same house. Change seats." Hermione made sure to project her voice in an even tone, still holding the slightly hard edge she had used as an Auror. Obediently her class moved around, all sitting on the edge of their chairs. With a small smirk to herself, Hermione noticed that most of the boys had sat next to girls from the opposite house, probably assuming that the girls would do less damage.
"Welcome to Defense Against The Dark Arts. You all know who I am, so I'm just gonna start. This lesson will not follow the same patterns as previous Professors may have started. This lesson is not just about hexes and curses, it's not just about dueling, it's not even just about magic. This lesson is about Defense, and that is what you will get. You will learn everything that is on the syllabus, and you will pass your NEWTs, but you will also leave this school with the knowledge of how to defend yourself." A Gryffindor boy sitting near the back raised his hand.
"If you're not teaching hexes and curses, how will we learn what's on the syllabus?" he asked insolently.
"Listen up. I said this lesson is not justabout hexes and curses. Sure, they're useful, but so are a lot of other things."
"I read that you didn't even take your NEWTs, so how can you teach us for them?" The Slytherin girl next to him spoke up now.
"Good question." Hermione nodded to the girl. "How old are all of you guys now? You're what, sixteen?" There were a few mumbles of assent, so Hermione continued. "When I was twelve, I helped stop Lord Voldemort from regaining a body. When I was thirteen, I survived an attack by a Basilisk. When I was fourteen, I used a Time-Turner to help a known criminal escape from the Ministry of Magic. When I was fifteen, I helped my best friend survive the Tri-Wizard Tournament. When I was sixteen, in my fifth year, I founded a Defense Association and I fought against Death Eaters in the Ministry of Magic. When I was seventeen, in your year at school, I fought against Death Eaters, in this very castle. When I was supposed to be in my Seventh year, I faced Lord Voldemort with my two best friends, and I survived.
"I have fought against the Dark Arts for eleven years, since I was twelve years old. No, I'm not much older than you, and no, I didn't sit my NEWTs, but don't doubt that I haven't seen much more than you would ever want to see. I am here to prepare you for whatever you might face in the future. If the worst thing you face is a Boggart, I'm glad for you. But if you face anything like the things I've faced in life, you'll need this class, and the Wizarding world will need you." Hermione took a deep breath, and raised her chin another inch.
"And, if you still believe my skills to be lacking, I will happily duel you for my honour. Now, please take out a piece of parchment and a quill. This lesson, I'm going to give you your homework assignments for the rest of the term, and the dates I expect you to hand in these pieces of work. I will notbe covering these topics in class, and these may very well be on your NEWT exam, so I would suggest you research thoroughly. I will, however, warn you, that if your work is not up to standard, you will rewrite the essays."
There was rustling from all corners of the room, and Hermione reeled off the list of assignments from memory, being sure to charm onto the board the essay title and due date as they were said. It was near the end of the lesson when she faced her first unexpected challenge.
"Professor, you never said what we were to do if we wished to duel you." The same Gryffindor that had raised his hand earlier spoke out. Radcliffe, Hermione remembered the boy's name was.
"Well, Mr. Radcliffe, if you wish to duel me you will have to attend the dueling club."
"There isn't a dueling club," a particularly dense Gryffindor girl stated.
"Thursday evenings, seven o'clock in the Great Hall, starting next week." Hermione said in a clipped tone, before allowing a smile to creep into her voice. "I look forward to seeing you all attending. If you have any questions about the assignments I have set, you may visit me in my Head of House office, I will be there from six to eight every evening excepting Thursdays. You're dismissed."
Hermione was gratified to see several members of the class noting down the day and time on spare pieces of parchment before they left. She yawned as she sat down in her desk chair, glad of the free period she had before her next class. A knock on the door had Hermione's back ramrod straight in an instant, completely alert.
"Come in," she called, surreptitiously checking her wand was still easily accessible in its holster on her arm. She sighed in relief as Maximus entered, hair already windswept. "I thought you were a student!" she admonished fiercely, Maximus had the grace to duck his head slightly.
"Forgive me. I saw you had a free hour on the schedules, and I thought I would come and see how your first lesson went, if you want to talk about it?" Maximus had entered the room as he was speaking, leaning on of the student desks in the front row.
"Thanks, Maximus, that'd be great. I think I over-prepared so much that I've got nothing to do now,"
- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -
Maximus had let Hermione unburden herself for the entire class period, so much so that he had had to rush out to beat his students to the Quidditch pitch when the bell rang. Hermione felt a little bad that she had kept the man, but in all fairness he had offered to talk with her, and from their previous conversations it musthave been obvious that she enjoyed to talk.
Thankfully, Hermione had a class of third year students third period who all seemed to be in too much awe of her to cause any kind of trouble, and her lesson plan was followed to the minute. Four of them, however ambushed her before she could leave the classroom, begging for autographs which she had no heart to refuse.
By the time Hermione had made it to the Great Hall, the only seat left was at the end of the table, in between the disappearing Potions Master, and the Divination Professor, Solon Calchas. She made her way to the empty place, smiled warmly at the odd little man, and nodded politely at Malfoy.
After twenty minutes of Solon Calchas' attempts to use Divination to determine her state of mind, Hermione was ready to bang her head against the table. As it was, all she could do was tighten her grip on her cutlery, and screw up her eyes when he looked away. Hermione started when she felt a hand come over hers, loosening her grip on her knife.
"Careful, or you might stab someone with that." Hermione looked up, startled at Malfoy's intervention, only to find her knife dug into the table.
"Sorry," Hermione grimaced as she attempted to tug it back out. Yet again she was surprised to find the pale fingers encircling hers. They pulled, hard, and the knife was free. "Thank you," his grey eyes were soft, as they stared into her own, and Hermione thought he might be about to say something, until-
"I sense unrest!" came the dulcet tones of Solon.
Their eyes snapped apart, Malfoy's sharpening into steel orbs, shuttered to emotion. He rolled his eyes at the Divination Professor's attempts at prophecy, and pursed his lips slightly.
"That would be the students, Professor Calchas. I believe two of the Ravenclaw Seventh Years have broken up over the summer holiday. I am sure they are in need of your insights." His words, while slightly cold seemed fairly genuine, and Solon took them to heart, gamely descending to speak with some of the Ravenclaw pupils there. Malfoy turned to Hermione, an indecipherable expression on his face. "Professor Calchas has a tendency, as with many of us, to bore others on his area of expertise, however he is very caring, and conscientious of any problems the students may be having."
Hermione found herself nodding in response, before suddenly realizing just whom she was talking with. Her neck went stiff, and she turned away. Hermione almost thought she imagined the brief flash of pain in Malfoy's eyes.