Chapter 7: I'm Glad You Didn't Get Blown Up
"Ok, everybody, stick together. If anybody wanders off it won't end well. Trust me." Watching the Fourth years all crowd around the big table I was seriously wondering if I hadn't gone crazy. A field trip? What the hell was I thinking? Sure, we were just going to a Muggle museum in a decent sized town, but why did it end up being this class?
After all, before I had even started classes Cho had told me that this class was an "enthusiastic" group. She lied. It's no wonder she's the Charms instructor as she must have charmed me into believing she wasn't completely off her rocker. This class was horrible. I'd already given out so many detentions to this bunch that it wasn't funny. They'd even started calling themselves "Filch's Family" as they were with him so often.
"How long until the portkey?" Ruby Smythe-Warring, as usual. Hufflepuff and constant questioner.
"How long until you shut it?" Carrick Frye, Gryffindor, and Ruby's constant bickering companion.
Good grief. Were those two ever going to stop? "How about you both shut it unless you'd like to just live with Filch from here on out?" So much for keeping a professorial tone.
I saw a curly brown head pop up from behind Ruby. "Seriously, Rubes, bin it." Peter Sawgrass, Slytherin.
"Mr. Sawgrass, unless you want to be standing here by yourself after we've all left, I would suggest standing closer to the…"
The initial explosion silenced the classroom. Everybody jumped when the fireworks started, the blue rockets shot around the room, bounced off of the ceiling, went under my desk and eventually out of the classroom windows as well as the door.
"That's it. No field trip. Everyone back to their desks. NOW." Goddamn it, how did they get a hold of George's stuff? The pipeline was supposed to be gone.
They all started to head back to their desks and I thought I saw something. "Miss Phillips? Can you show me your hands, please?" The Ravenclaw girl with the short bob haircut immediately put her hands behind her back. Seriously, you're hiding your hands behind your back like a three year old that got caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar? "Miss Phillips, hands now, please."
Slowly she took her hands from behind her back and showed them to me. Just what I thought. There, in bright purple on the back of her hands was the Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes triple W logo.
"I think this calls for a visit to Headmaster Longbottom. And ten points from Ravenclaw. Headmaster Longbottom's office. Now." I pointed to the door. She slowly picked up her books and headed out the door.
After walking up to my desk I sat down for a minute and looked at all of them. The field trip day was shot now, no chance of making the portkey and I had no lesson planned. Everything was based on working through what we would have seen at the museum. Shit. Except for Poesy Phillips, everyone sat at their desk as if they were expecting doom. Well, if that's what they're expecting, by God they were going to get it.
"Since Miss Phillips has decided we're not going on a field trip, we're going to make the most of our time today. Starting now and due Monday…" I noticed a hand go up in the corner. "Yes Mr. Addison, at the beginning of class. Monday I will expect one foot of parchment on how cars changed the Muggle world." Groans were heard all over the room. "Are we trying to make it one and a half?" The room quieted somewhat. A hand went up. "Yes, Miss Davids?"
"Professor, tomorrow is the Hufflepuff versus Slytherin Quidditch match."
I nodded. "Your point?"
"If we have to do all of that, then…"
I put up my hand to stop her. "To be quite honest, you should all be so lucky that's all that's going to happen." I knew I shouldn't, but I stood up anyway. "Look at it this way. So far this class has set my desk on fire, given me green polka dots on my face, turned my fountain pen into a slug, turned my coffee into something completely nasty, charmed my textbook into Chinese and let loose a group of, well, I don't know what they're called."
"Pixies, sir." Peter Sawgrass sat looking at me hopeful that this might ease their situation.
It didn't.
"Right, pixies. Let a bunch of pixies loose. This class has taken full advantage of the fact that I cannot do magic while every single other class hasn't. Do you even realize how much planning it took to get everything ready for this field trip? That I had to have Harry Potter come out and do all the paperwork and arrangements to use a portkey in a Hogwarts classroom? Yes, that Harry Potter. Now I'm going to tell him that all his work meant nothing."
I stood and closed my eyes for a minute, then opened them back up. It had done nothing to ease my anger. "You know what? I'm taking one point from everybody's house." They seemed to relax. "One point for each of you. That means if there are ten Gryffindors in here that Gryffindor just lost ten points. You do the math. Right now I'm done with y'all. Get out of my classroom and do not come back until Monday with your two feet of parchment."
"I thought it was one foot!" Ruby looked at me incredulously.
"Not anymore. Out of my classroom."
I was stewing. They had all left and I now had some time until the first years arrived. I was looking through the day's lessons when I heard a knock and a familiar face looked in through the crack as the door eased open.
"Bad lesson?"
"Yeah, Neville, you could say that. What is wrong with that year? I mean, seriously. None of the other classes takes advantage of my lack of magic. Why that one?
Neville walked over and sat on the top of one of the tables. "It's just that way, some times. I've spoken to Poesy Phillips about the fireworks. I'll be writing her parents. She didn't tell me what you gave her for detention."
"That's because I was so angry I didn't even think about it. Neville, maybe I'm not cut out for teaching teenagers. I mean, I'm used to college. If they don't show up, fine with me. I even tell them at the beginning of the class that if they don't show up I really don't care, as that means its fewer papers for me to grade. I'm used to hung over freshmen and sophomores, not this age."
"All of the other years get along well, though, don't they? Hank, that class has been like that ever since they were first years."
"I wish I could do something with my wand, Neville. Maybe that would make them behave."
"I doubt it. George had to threaten them all with a lifetime ban on his shop unless they behaved. George Weasley, one of the creators of Weasley Swamp, clamping down and setting rules. Hopefully they'll all grow out of it."
"If they live that long. Oh, and tell Poesy that next week she'll be helping Hagrid. Hopefully with something nasty in the Forbidden Forest."
The first year class went as it always did, wonderfully. Today was the lesson on telephones and mobile phones, so I brought my mobile in to show them.
"When I'm in the Muggle world I can turn this on and do lots of things. I can call my parents, my friends, and they can call me. We can talk to each other just like we're in the same room even though we could be miles away. If you have the right kind of phone you can even talk to people around the world."
I noticed two Gryffindors chatting in the back. "Miss Little? Mr. Morris? Am I boring you?"
Lizzie Little's face turned red. It was Alastair Morris who answered. "No, Professor. We were just talking about the tellaphaphones."
"Telephones. I'm glad you're on topic, but please pay attention."
The rest of the class went fine, and after dismissing them I noticed that Lizzie had stayed behind, standing at her desk. My guess was that she wasn't sure what to do. "Can I help you, Miss Little?"
"Um, yes, Professor. Um, how hard is it to get a mobile teltephone?
"Telephone. How hard is it? Well, it's easy where I come from, but I'm not sure in the Wizarding world. Why?"
"Allie 'n me were trying to figure out if we could get them for this summer, so we could call each other." She blushed again and hid her face, intently studying her shoes.
Ah, that was it. Romance. "Well, I'm not sure. I'll see what I can find out for you, ok?"
Her face popped up and brightened immediately. "Thanks, Professor Muggle!" With that she bounded out of the room.
Saturday morning came quickly, but I decided to have a "bit of a lie in" as they say here. I was propped up in bed, drinking tea and working my way through the scones when I heard the distinctive "rap, rap rap-rap rap, rap rap" on my door.
"Come on in, George."
"Am I that predictable?"
"No, just obvious. What's up?'
George sat on my desk chair, backwards, with his arms over the back. "Heard you had a bit of a problem with one of my products."
"No, I think it worked fine. It just shouldn't have gone off in my classroom right before the big field trip. You know how much planning went into that."
"Yeah, I do. Glad to see the Mischief Marker works, though." He was obviously very proud of himself on that one.
"Did make finding the guilty party pretty easy." I thought about it for a second. "Let me guess, those are Hogwarts specials, aren't they? You're still selling them, but…"
"They will mark whoever set them off. Yep, guilty as charged. I couldn't stop selling to Hogwarts students. I may be a professor, but I do have a reputation to uphold. For Merlin's sake don't tell Neville. Is it true you gave them two feet?"
I pushed my glasses to the top of my head. "I did. I've got to figure out some way to keep them from doing magic in my classroom. I can't do anything with my wand except make sparks every now and then."
"I've got an idea on that one; leave it to me, Hank. Now, to discuss more important matters. You have a date tonight, correct? Medea?" He gave a wolf whistle. "Now that's a fine looking bird. Melody is cute and all…"
"I'm not talking about Melody, ok?"
George shrugged at me.
I wished it was Melody, but that wasn't going to happen. "Besides, this is just a date. I promised Neville and Hannah. It's just a date, George." I know my tone had changed, but I didn't care. I wasn't going to talk to him about Melody and it was just a date. With a beautiful witch, but it was just a date. Nothing big. "Nothing's going to happen, trust me, George."
I was wrong. Completely and utterly wrong, as things must have happened. When you go out on a date Saturday night and wake up Sunday afternoon in the hospital, something most definitely happened. I looked around the room trying to make sense of things, but most of it was a big blur. I remembered going to the Leaky Cauldron with Neville and meeting Hannah, then waiting for Medea to arrive. We left shortly after she got there, and…that's it. Nothing. Crap. I put my head back into the pillow and sighed loudly.
"Dammit, where is everybody? Hello, anyone there?"
I heard feet moving down the hall towards my room and the door swung open, revealing an elderly wizard with only wisps of white hair left on his head. "So you're awake, Professor Boyd. How are you feeling?"
"To be honest I feel like shit. My head hurts, my arm really hurts and I feel like I'm going to vomit. What the hell happened?"
"You're being treated for injuries at St. Mungo's hospital. Mr. Potter has asked to be notified when you woke up, and I believe he will be able to give you the full details. I'll have a Healer come check on you shortly. Until then I want you to try not to move very much. You'll be healed up in no time."
He patted me on the leg and left before I could ask him anything else. Great. Before I could complain about lack of medical attention Harry walked into the room and sat down by my bed.
"Glad to see you awake, Hank. Gave us all a bit of a scare."
"Thanks, Harry. But do you mind telling me why the hell I'm in the hospital?"
"What's the last thing you remember?"
"Leaving the Leaky Cauldron with Neville, Hannah and Medea."
"Well, it pretty much happened after that. There's a group that the Aurors have been following, they're a terrorist group of sorts that is anti-Muggle. We don't have an official name for them yet. They've decided to target you as one of their prime objectives to show the wizarding world that wizards and Muggles shouldn't mix, that Muggles are inferior. They were going to use you as an example. The Auror following you…"
"Wait, an Auror was following me? Why?" I sat up and looked at Harry, incredulous.
"For your protection."
"How long has that been going on?"
"Pretty much since you got here. After the announcement was made that you'd be teaching at Hogwarts we started noticing they had changed tactics. Instead of minor things like disturbances or vandalizing signs with their messages they were after you. There's been an Auror nearby ever time you've left Hogwarts."
Goddamn it. I was being tailed? "Why didn't you tell me?"
Harry leaned forward in his chair. "We didn't want to worry you. Plus we didn't want to tip them off somehow."
Fuck me. "So what happened last night?"
After taking off his glasses and putting them on the bedside table, Harry took a deep breath and continued. "The Auror assigned to you noticed things didn't seem right in the area, things that Aurors are trained to notice; I'm not going to go into the details. He had just called for backup when they attacked you. Neville and Hannah held them off for the few minutes it took for the Aurors to arrive, but you took some pretty good shots. When we got you here your arm was broken and your head was bleeding badly. We ended up taking four of them into custody, but two of them got away. Right now they're in holding cells awaiting trial."
"How about Neville and Hannah, are they ok?"
"Neville and Hannah are fine, just a few scrapes and such. Medea hit the ground from the moment you were attacked and didn't move. She wasn't hurt, she just didn't do anything. After hearing that we thought she might have been involved in the setup, but after Ron interrogated her we decided that she's just, well, stupid. We haven't figured it all out yet, but we think she might have said something about your date that was overheard by one of the anti-Muggle group's members. Her inaction during the attack didn't help her cause, but we don't think she's guilty of conspiracy."
Son of a bitch. I'm a goddamn terrorist target.
Harry left and a few minutes later I heard them before I saw them. A Healer was trying to limit their numbers, but she was not very successful based on the people who walked through the door.
"Oh Hank, how are you feeling?" Molly Weasley was looking at me as if I was going to break.
"I'm ok, Molly. From what the doctor said I'll be fine." She was standing at the side of my bed along with Ginny and Hermione, and I noticed that Ginny looked a little pale. "Really, Molly, I'm fine. But Ginny doesn't look very well."
Ginny smiled weakly. "Morning sickness. Don't know why they call it that, it's after three in the afternoon. We're glad to see you're ok, Hank."
"We are, Hank. We were worried." Hermione moved around to the other side of my bed and took a look at my head. She made a bad face.
"It can't be that bad, Hermione."
She tried to look at me encouragingly, but it wasn't convincing. "Well, it'll heal."
Before anyone else could comment on my awful appearance the white-haired Healer came in. "Two visitors at a time, please, ladies. I must insist."
Molly leaned over and patted my arm. "That's my cue, girls. I'll see you soon, Hank. Just rest and get better." She walked to the door while the Healer waited for her to leave. He wasn't going to just trust her word, obviously.
Before leaving he looked to Hermione and Ginny; "A half hour, ladies, and not a moment more. He needs his rest."
Ginny and Hermione each took a chair and sat by my bedside. Ginny looked a bit shaken and very tired. "Ron said you were very lucky. Whoever tried to curse you missed horribly, you just got some of it and not the full effect."
Hermione looked over at Ginny, who nodded her head. "We came over as soon as we heard."
I looked at the two witches. I know my head hurt, but did I hear that right? "How long have y'all been here?"
Ginny looked at her watch. "Wow, I guess about ten hours on and off. We took shifts. I came over first, then Hermione. Molly and Melody got here next, and…" Hermione looked sharply at Ginny with the "you're not supposed to say that" look.
"Melody was here?" Wow. That surprised me. Huh.
"Merlin's pants, where's the loo?" Ginny stood up suddenly, looked around and ran to the small bathroom, making it just in time.
The women had been shooed out of my room eventually and I was left with a neighbor who snored and a woman who talked in her sleep. Wonderful. The old Healer had informed me that I would be there until tomorrow at the earliest, as they were still worried that my head wound wasn't healing as well as they had hoped. Now I was bored. Bored. Bored. Really freaking bored. I didn't have anything to read, nobody to talk to, and if that woman didn't shut up I was going to go over there and douse her with the water from the pitcher on my bedside table.
Enough. I moved around and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. Thankfully there was a robe hanging next to my bed from some sort of pole thing, so I put that on. Didn't want to flash my backside to the hospital staff. I managed to steady myself a bit on the edge of the bed. Still kind of woozy, as balance was not my best skill at that point, I ended up walking down to the waiting room area to get something to read. The only thing I could find were old, beaten copies of Witch Weekly, whatever the hell that was. I tucked a few copies under my arm and had almost made it back when the Healers caught me. They weren't too pleased with me and let me know in no uncertain terms that I was not to get out of bed again, but I could wander the halls aimlessly if I wanted to spend another night in the hospital. Great.
I propped myself up in bed and tried for a while to figure out how to turn on my lamp as there was no switch on the thing, and since I didn't have any means of lighting the thing I hit the little button thing for my Healer. I looked at the thing for a while before hitting it as there were no electrical cords or any means that I could see that the button was connected to anything. Magic. I hit the button and after explaining to the Healer what I needed she took out her wand and lit the lamp to a level that I could see but wouldn't bother the other patients. The clock said it was 2 a.m. when she found me reading Witch Weekly.
"Good article?"
I looked up and saw Melody standing at the foot of my bed.
Melody, who didn't want to date me anymore, who'd come to see me last night when I was unconscious, was standing in my hospital room, inquiring about how I was enjoying Witch Weekly. "I guess it's a good article. I don't know too much about household spells, and I'm pretty sure my wand work is below average. How are you?" Holy crap, the woman who I actually wanted to date was in my room. I knew I looked awful, too. Figures. Why did she come? What do I say to her? Our last conversation didn't actually end very well.
"I'm good. How are you feeling?" She moved over and sat down in the chair beside the bed.
I put down the magazine and looked at her. She looked tired; her hair was pulled back sort of haphazardly and she was wearing a Harpies sweatshirt. "I've been better. I heard you stopped by."
"I was in the office talking to Ginny when we heard the news. You had everyone pretty worried; you were a mess when they brought you in."
She was worried about me? Was it one of those 'somebody I know was in the hospital things' or was it something else? If she'd come there had to be more to it than that. "I'm glad to see you. I didn't know when I'd see you again."
"Hank…"
I took a deep breath. "I'm just going to say some things. If it's horrible we can both blame the head injury and potions they gave me and pretend it never happened. I have to say that I was disappointed that you didn't think we should see each other anymore, because I don't really know you yet. That's what I was looking forward to, getting to know you. I know you were in Hufflepuff, but I don't know anything about how things were at school. You went through the war; I don't know what happened there. I know you have a mother but you've never talked about your father. I've never told you about my family, school, anything really. I have no idea what music you like, what you like to eat, anything. We just seemed to hit it off and, well, things got interesting fast."
She smiled a little at me, and I decided to plunge ahead. "What I was going to ask is if, well, we could take some time and get to know each other. I hadn't told you yet, but I'd been burned badly in my last relationship, which just ended before I came here. I don't want to screw up, because, well…shit. You're smart; you don't treat me like an idiot when I've asked you Muggle questions. Add on top of that that you're very pretty. I like being around you. I'm not saying we should start picking out china patterns or anything, I'd just like to go out with you sometime and see what happens."
There. I said it all. Sort of. I know there was more but that's what I could think of. She didn't look like she disagreed, but then I couldn't read her at all. She pulled her hair out of her ponytail and let it loose, then took off her glasses.
"I'm glad to hear that. To be honest, I was a little worried about seeing you so soon after your last relationship." I guess I must have had a surprised look on my face, as she continued. "Ginny talked to me one day. She told me what you told everyone at the Potter's dinner party. I admit, I didn't want to be the 'rebound woman' that you would date and then move on from right away. Nobody wants to be that."
"I'm glad to hear that. I'm kind of mad at Ginny now, but I get it. I would want a friend of mine to know something like that." I yawned.
"Looks like your potions are starting to kick in. Go ahead and go to sleep."
"No, I'm fine. Just a little longer. Will you come back later? They're supposed to let me out tomorrow."
She put her hand on my arm and then stood up and cocked her head slightly to the side. "Perhaps. Get some sleep."
I watched her walk out of the room and slid back down into bed. I slept well that night, and I don't think it was completely due to the potions.
"What do you mean another night? I'm fine, really." The Healer was looking at me and shaking his head condescendingly. I'm sure all of his patients said that at one point or other.
He took a look at my chart and then flipped the pages back over.
"Your broken arm has healed perfectly, but you sustained a concussion along with some severe abrasions and other head injuries. This is standard procedure, and you'll be back in front of the classroom in no time. If all of your tests go as we expect we'll release you tomorrow morning. Your job is to rest, that's it."
He must have been able to tell I was going to object, so he cut me off. "No grading papers or anything else, do you understand me, young man?"
Young man? Well at least I got that out of him; nobody had called me that since my Gran. "Ok, ok, but I've got to have something to read. I'm going nuts here. Witch Weekly? Come on, there's got to be something better."
He assured me that suitable reading material would be found and left me to sit in my bed. Papers. Crap. The fourth year's papers were due today. I'm sure they were happy that they didn't have to see me when they turned in their parchments.
Finally a Healer brought me The Daily Prophet and something called The Quibbler. I should have known about The Prophet. The headline screamed PROFESSOR MUGGLE INJURED IN ATTACK; thankfully there weren't any pictures of me, just a picture of Ron and Harry talking to the press outside of some official looking building. I guessed it was part of the Ministry of Magic.
The Quibbler was awesome. The lead article was about something called Nargles that I equated with Bigfoot, the Loch Ness monster or some other mythical beast. Nargles were supposed to be invisible, which would help explain why nobody had found them, I guess. After a few more articles I equated it with those tabloid magazines at the grocery store that talked about Bat Boy and crazy stuff, like Elvis' ghost scaring some farmer's cattle. Infinitely better than Witch Weekly.
I didn't have any more visitors and eventually got a message from Ron that he'd be at the hospital the next morning to take me to Hogwarts. I guessed it was an Auror thing rather than just a friendly help type thing, but that was ok. After almost getting my head blown off by a Muggle-hating wizard or two that was fine with me. Nothing else to do but wait. Year old Witch Weeklies were the only thing that kept me sane. I really hate that magazine.
"I'm glad you didn't get blown up, Professor."
"Thank you; now take your seat, Miss Ryder."
The first year girl found her seat next to one of her Hufflepuff housemates. First day back and the first class was the most interesting, as basically I blew about half of the time reassuring my class that, regardless of the head wound, I was not mental.
"I really don't remember much, y'all. I walked out of a door and woke up in the hospital. That's about it. Now let's get back to the lesson, ok?"
It was hard teaching Muggle Studies since a lot of the things that I wanted to show them, like computers, didn't work at Hogwarts. Actually, pretty much everything electronic I had didn't work, not to mention the extreme lack of power outlets. Besides, I had forgotten outlet converters, so I was screwed in that regard. I had decided to take advantage of their love of Quidditch to try to teach some sports. American football was completely out of the question; too many rules. I decided that baseball, my first love, would be appropriate to illustrate a Muggle sport. After all, it was fairly close to cricket and other bat and ball games. I'd put pictures of baseball fields, baseball players and a scorecard up on the walls to help illustrate the game.
"Ok, I am going to assume with the extra day of studying you're all up to speed on baseball. Who can tell me what the sections of the game are called?"
No hands. Not surprised. Well, when all else fails make somebody answer. "Miss Pennyman?" From her reaction you would have thought that I had stuck a fork in the Slytherin girl.
"Um, outs?"
"Not quite. That's part of baseball, though. Miss Drapier?"
"Innings?"
"Correct. Five points to Gryffindor." The girl looked very pleased, and even though I pretended not to see it I saw a Slytherin boy (Crenshaw? Have to look at that seating chart again) make a screwed up face that read that he thought she was an insufferable know-it-all. "Unlike Quidditch, there are breaks in the game, as the teams have to switch sides."
A hand went up in the background. "Yes, Mr. Hinkup?"
"Since you mentioned Quidditch, Professor, can you tell us about meeting the Harpies?"
I sighed. This was not in my lesson plan at all. "From the only match I've seen they were very good. They're also very nice. Now let's get back to the lesson."
Another hand went up. Good Lord.
"Does this have to do with baseball, Mr. Donne?" His hand went down. Then he thought about it for a bit and the hand went back up.
"Ok, what is it?"
"You're not really dating Ginny Potter, are you?" He looked over quickly at Lavinia Ryder. I'm sure she had her Hufflepuff housemate ask this question for her.
"No, it's the blonde witch from Madam Malkin's. It was in The Prophet." Abigail Pennyman had turned around in her chair and answered Frankie Donne.
I had to stop them. "Regardless of what you've read in the Daily Prophet, I am not dating Ginny Potter, she is happily married to Harry Potter. I'm not dating any of the Harpies or the witch from Madam Malkin's. Ok, we were on a date, but to be quite honest my personal life has nothing to do with baseball. Anymore questions about my personal life and I'm taking away points. Lots of them. Now, Donne, since you're obviously comfortable with speaking in front of the class, can you read the paragraph about pitching, please? And don't get too comfortable just listening, Pennyman, as you're next."
"So how was the first class now that you're back?" It was Neville. I was trying to rearrange my teaching plans when he came in, and to be honest it was going horribly, so it was a welcome distraction.
"Not bad, but I think I spent about half the time talking to them about being in St. Mungo's and all of the stuff that's been in The Prophet. Are they always like that?"
"Not usually, but you are big news. I'm glad you're feeling ok."
"I am. I haven't had a chance to thank you properly yet, Neville, but thanks a lot. I don't know what would have happened if you and Hannah hadn't been there."
Neville shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, but I'm just glad we were. Medea…"
Medea. Right.
"Yeah, I heard she was useless. She's just a pretty young thing with a sultry voice, I've figured that out. Listen, Neville, I do want to make it up to you and Hannah sometime. There's a chance that I actually might be able to double with you again, maybe this time with…not anytime soon, but sometime."
"I saw her at St. Mungo's. Sounds like you two had a talk."
He was smirking at me. Nice.
"A double? Maybe, we'll see."
Wait. "Neville, you stopped by St. Mungo's?"
"Just for a bit. But I need to talk to you about something." Now Neville looked nervous. "Can you stop by my office after classes? There's something I want to discuss."
"You're not firing me, are you?" Great, now I was getting canned.
"Oh no, I'm not sacking you. No, nothing like that. Just some things I think I can clear up for you."
"Ok, no problem. Sure, that works for me."
"Great, see you this afternoon."
With that, he walked out, leaving me wondering exactly what was going to be cleared up. Hopefully nothing horrible.
They filed in by ones and twos, placing their parchments in my hand as I waited for them by the door. The fourth years were obviously not looking forward to my class, even with the extra time to complete their assignments. After gathering all the parchment I deposited them in a big box and sat it by my desk. They were all looking at me in anticipation, so I decided to play with them a bit. I went over to the desk and sat behind it, pretending to write several things down. In reality I doodled with a quill which ran out of ink almost immediately, reminding me that I couldn't find my favorite ink pen. I hoped they couldn't see, as that would really break the illusion. They lasted almost a full five minutes; I was impressed. I drank some coffee which, a shock in this class, was still actually coffee. This was the class that I had dressed for today, and I was wearing the tweed suit and a bowtie as I wanted to look every inch like the imposing Professor. Eventually I got up and walked in front of the desk and sat on the edge.
"Ok, let's get the questions out of the way."
I saw a few hands go up, so I decided to beat them at their own game.
"Before I call on any of y'all, let me see if I can answer things. I feel fine, I don't remember anything, I'm not dating Ginny Potter, I'm not dating any of the Harpies, I'm not dating all of the Harpies, it was only a friendly date with the witch from Madam Malkin's, I have no idea who the wizards were that attacked me and I do not have brain damage. Does that cover it?"
Every hand went down.
"Right. Let's get to it, then."
The rest of the class went well, as we were covering airplanes. I explained that travelling long distances without brooms, Floo and portkeys was quite difficult, and that airplanes were the Muggle solution to this. I also explained that in the Muggle world sometimes the time savings of travelling by airplane was mitigated by the difficulties of air travel and explained security, among other things. I had thought about covering how to fly like a Muggle on the final, but we had to work up to that. It was hard for them to get their heads around the concepts at first, but eventually there was a good discussion on how air travel started. I'd covered the Wright Brothers and how World War I helped usher in airplanes, so I was happy with their progress. Now it was time for my surprise.
"Since we have managed to get through a class without someone turning my desk into an elephant or something else magical that I can't undo, I have an assignment." Groans went up through the class. "Your assignment is to come up with things in the Wizarding world that are completely foreign to Muggles like me. I want you to separate into groups of four for this assignment. It is due on Friday. Until then I want you to work independently of class time."
Poesy Phillips' hand shot up. That girl is a complete Ravenclaw, from what they tell me of the Ravenclaw stereotypes. Well, except for the mischievous streak. "Yes, Miss Phillips?"
"Professor, the assignment is due on Friday. What about the rest of class time today? Or tomorrow? And does that mean we have to work on it outside of classes?"
"Well, Miss Phillips, I believe it would make the most sense to let the class have the time to discuss the assignment. It won't be necessary to do that in the classroom. Whether or not you work on it outside of class time is up to your group."
"Professor?"
"You can ditch the rest of class today. I won't expect to see you tomorrow. Just have your assignment done for me on Friday. I have lots of parchment to read." I watched them all gather their things and talk excitedly as they left my classroom as quickly as they could. Maybe this would mean they'd stop turning my coffee into mud.
I felt like I was walking to a tax audit when I entered Neville's office. He had me sit at a small table with him, not at his desk, which I took to mean that this was not an "official headmaster" talk. After he poured the tea I couldn't take it any longer.
"Come on, Neville. I'm kind of nervous here, what is it? You're really not firing me, are you?"
He laughed. "No, Hank, I'm not 'firing' you. From what I can tell Muggle Studies is going quite well, despite the problems the fourth years have given you. I wanted to talk to you about that legislation going through the Ministry right now."
"Why would you want to talk to me about that? I'm the least magical person here at Hogwarts."
"Precisely."
"I don't get it."
"Hank, about that wand you bought at Ollivander's. Do you have it with you?"
"Mmmm, yeah. I don't know why, though." I put my hand in my jacket pocket and took it out.
"Can I see what you can do with your wand?"
"Sure." I waved it around for a while and eventually a couple of red sparks came out of the end. "That's pretty much it. Why?"
"Albus and I have been talking. He's said that he's chatted with Molly Weasley and she's helped you trace your family back to some MacDonald wizards. We think you might be the key to defeating the classification legislation in the Ministry."
Whoa. Me? "I'm not a wizard, Neville. I'm a Muggle. I doubt I can help you there."
He tapped his fingers on the table. "A pure Muggle could never make anything happen with a wand. Hank, Albus and I think that you do have Wizarding blood, but it's so many generations back that for all intents and purposes, you're a Muggle. But there's still the fact that you can do that with your wand. I think that there's probably some Wizarding blood in most Muggles, but they just don't know it. Like you. You would have never known except you came to Hogwarts, bought a wand and talked with Molly about your family history." He paused for a long stretch. "Albus thinks that when the time comes, if you'd agree to it, your testimony and wand demonstration would stop this legislation in its tracks. Would you be willing to do that?"
Testify in front of the wizarding government? "Neville, I really don't know all the details here, but I'm more than willing to help out my friends. Just let me know and I'll do what I can."
