Finishing Touches
"Wakey, wakey, Squirt!" came John's cheery voice as Harry pulled his warm blankets back up over his head at 5:50 the next morning. Peeking out from beneath them, he whined as he looked at the Tempus floating over his glasses on the nightstand.
"Maaan... why so early?" he mock cried, in response to John's irrepressible cheerfulness.
"Two reasons: One, you've had more than enough sleep, since Papa made you go to bed early. Two, you like to dawdle over your cocoa and danish. So, I'm giving you more time to hang out at the table before you go to face the redoubtable Professor Snape. Besides, Wilfried made something special for your morning treat, and he won't tell me what it is, or serve it 'til you get to the table, so... get a wiggle on, Little Brother! Go soak your head!" and John stood aside, like a valet, holding Harry's clothes to head to the shower.
Harry saw he wasn't going to get rid of John by outwaiting him, so... griping and moaning all the way... he stood up, pulled on his robe, slid his feet into his slippers, and snatched his clothes from John. John simply bowed, like an humble house elf, making Harry laugh... and swung a playful swat at his brother's bottom, as the boy successfully dodged and headed off to wash.
On returning, Harry quickly wanded his room neat, grabbed his bag and made sure everything he'd need was in it, then dashed to the table to check out his treat. Cheerfully, he greeted Oxsana who was seated at the table, sipping a cup of coffee. She gave him a quick hug and waited for him to select his choices first. He found, sitting there before him, a plate of assorted wonderful German pastries, but on one plate all alone was a stack of something he'd never seen before. It had a small card labeling it "Streuseltaler", and they looked like six inch pizzas, but had a cake-like base, with a fruit filling, streusel topping and icing drizzled on top. The one he had with his cocoa was heaven, and he found himself wondering how many he could hide in his bag before he noticed John staring at him, shaking his head.
"I'm sure there will be some here for tea this evening, Harry. Last thing you need is to turn in some homework coated in THAT, whether to Papa, Professor McGonagall, or Professor Snape. And you know it would happen, you've got all three of them today! I just wish I knew how you managed to get Wilfried so firmly in your corner! He takes better care of you than he does Papa, and he takes outrageously good care of Papa!" John laughed. As 6:15 rolled around, John started herding Harry - now again wearing Oxsana around his neck - out to join Ron and Hermione, and together they got to the dungeons.
"Good morning, children, and Inquisitor Brezynski," Snape opened, as he gave a brief bow to the flicking of the forked tongue from beneath Harry's collar. Ron's assignments for the next two days were above the Professor's desk in glowing letters, Harry had two more potions on his list of medicinals for the Infirmary, and Hermione was ready to carry on with her Polyjuice Project.
As Harry walked into the lab after putting down his bookbag, he stopped, turning towards Snape saying, "Professor, may I say something before we start?" Snape gave permission. "Two things, really. One, I apologize for going down there on my own last night, and making it so you had to fight the Basilisk. Two, that was an incredible fight, and it was so exciting to see. I never knew you could use potions like that!"
"It was bloody brilliant, Professor..." Ron blurted suddenly, then returned to his bookwork just as suddenly, hoping his compliment would slide by without comment.
"Yes, sir, it was! I had no idea you could fight like that," Hermione echoed.
This emotional outburst of admiration and contrition utterly derailed Severus' snarky plan to be snidely aloof all morning, in order to convey his own disapproval of their misbehavior. He found himself strangely warmed by their expressions of admiration. Quite spontaneously, Hermione started applauding, joined by Harry, and even Ron stood up to join in. But there are limits to even Snape's patience, whereupon after the briefest nod of the head that may have been a bow, his stern voice barked, "Enough stalling! Now get to work!" Smiling as they turned from his view, they all did.
Morning classes went by smoothly and comfortably. Professor McGonagall didn't seem any more stern to them than she ever was in teaching. It was a relief that they didn't have to feel or act all hang dog until Monday, and after a few minutes they forgot about any awkwardness.
As class finished and they were heading to the Great Hall for luncheon, Professor McGonagall called them over to say, "I want to let you know that Professor Konstantyn, John, and Hagrid will be away for the noon meal, making some arrangements for tomorrow in the Forbidden Forest. They wanted me to let you know that they'll be busy and generally unavailable to mind-speak with until classes begin this afternoon. If you have an emergency need, you can call of course. But otherwise, you can speak with Oxsana or me or Professor Snape if you need something. All right?" They nodded that they understood, curious, but not upset or nervous. "The Professor said he'd see you all in class and at home for tea and homework after class."
"Thank you, Professor," they chorused, as they headed to the Great Hall.
In those same moments, John and Pavel entered Hagrid's hut, only to emerge from the back as Pavel's gray wolf and John's raven. They could all speak together through Pavel's maintained mind link, and Hagrid looked on with mild envy at the ease with which these mages shifted form for convenience. They wanted to meet and confer with Aragog. It was their hope to interest Aragog in motivating his numerous ravenous offspring to cover every inch of the Forest once Petrov was gone, to consume the three minions that should be there somewhere. It seemed poetic justice for these spiders to gain from the plotting of exploiting the Chamber of Secrets. After all, it was Riddle and the Basilisk that had driven Aragog from the Castle, and disgraced Hagrid.
Hagrid was briefed and prepared to negotiate with Aragog on their behalf. Or, alternatively, John and Pavel could transform into acromantulas, whether larger, smaller, or same size as Aragog. It was difficult to tell if that would create a need for combat, competition, or... if gender were involved... what the outcome might be. Hence, Hagrid was Plan A, and they'd see what might be needed for Plan B. They did, however, keep up a very hefty shield about them as they approached Aragog's lair, to avoid any... potential misunderstandings.
"Aragog! My old friend!" Hagrid bellowed in his ever-cordial manner. "How are you? How are the young'ns?"
"Wonderful, Hagrid! And how are all of yours?" the huge spider replied.
"Just fine, just fine. Still a bit shy about your kind, but I guess considering your brood's appetite that's all for the best."
"I see you've brought friends. Greetings, Friends-of-Hagrid! I gather they are just here for a visit, eh. Not an offering or a snack?"
"No, indeed. These are esteemed visitors, and they come with some good news about some old business. I'd like to know if yer interested in cleaning up some debris in the forest, and providing a bit of a 'snack' for some of your young'ns, along with clearing up some old misunderstandings between the Castle and you 'n me?"
"You intrigue me, Hagrid. Go on. What have you in mind?" Aragog continued, in what can only be described as a "conspiratorial" voice, if one can have such a tone with the size of a small house.
So, despite the crowding about of scores of apparently "curious" young acromantulas ranging in size from medium dog to small cattle, Hagrid cheerfully outlined their invitation that once Petrov was disposed of, his minions should become both visible and effectively powerless. Aragog's offspring were welcome to dispose of them in any way they saw fit, and that those people were in league with the Tom Riddle who had tried to do away with them five decades ago. Riddle, Hagrid was happy to report, was no more. And he turned to credit John with his destruction, which secured Aragog's good will towards John immediately.
Aragog was all for the plan, up until Pavel reminded Hagrid to warn him, "Oh, yes. Aragog, we're going to be bringing in a visitor, just for a short time, who will actually be doing away with the assassin Petrov, and you and yours may want to avoid him. He'll not harm you, nor anyone else here, I assure you. But still, he's not of a kind you're normally comfortable with."
"What do you mean, Hagrid? There's nothing in this Forest we fear. We respect the domains of the various tribes who live here, but we don't really fear anything here."
"Aye. I knows that. But, as I said, this will be more a 'visitor' just here for a brief period, then he'll be heading back to his home, his normal den."
"And where is that? And what is the nature of this 'visitor'?" If eight lidless eyes could be said to narrow with suspicion, this would be the time.
"Well, old friend. His den is deep below the Castle. He's the Basilisk of the Chamber of Secrets. But... but..." Hagrid stopped speaking a moment as Aragog's chelicerae clacked together loudly in irritation, and the chorus of his surrounding young did the same. They also began to dance about nervously, in a manner that even the stalwart Hagrid may have found a bit disturbing, were he not ensconced in a force shield stouter than bullet-proof glass. Hagrid just waited for peace to settle again. "The Basilisk means you, nor anyone here, no harm. He is as old as the Castle itself, and sworn to her protection. He'll not harm you, nor any of yours. You have my word on that."
"Well, Hagrid, you've never misled me, nor failed of your word. We will, then, help you." Aragog entoned.
"Wonderful. Tomorrow morning I shall come to you, and show you where to hide your youths. There will be some other people here who are not to be harmed. But we shall see to it your prey is clearly marked, all right?"
"That will be fine, Hagrid. Thank you for your visit, and for yours too, Friends-of-Hagrid. Perhaps we shall all meet again, some time."
And the trio withdrew, uncertain of whether they had just been invited to dinner one night. As the main course.
The History of Magic class went in unexpected directions today, as the Professor chose to discuss "How to Win at the School Game". He began with asking how School was similar to Gaming. As students volunteered good answers, such as "you often start with incomplete information", or "you accumulate points to succeed", he would award points, as usual.
From there, he strongly suggested students pull out their notebooks, journals, or note parchments and take down what he was teaching. For example, he, as a Professor, used both "lecture" and "practical application". When a class is primarily lecture, the easiest way to excel on examinations was a simple mind trick. If a lecturer "told stories", as he did, then take notes writing down the story as quickly as they could keep up, and still be legible. For example, most students could write down one sentence of notes for every three sentences of story he told. So, by the end of a one hour lecture, most students would have about 30 inches or so of lecture notes, depending on how neatly and tightly they wrote. Now, there were two ways to use those notes, one very smart, the other not so smart.
Depending on how often there were tests - as for example he gave a test about every ten lectures, so they would have about four tests through the term - if a student counts the first lecture after a test as Day One, and reads those notes, those 30 inches OUT LOUD to themselves privately - bathroom, or outdoors somewhere others wouldn't overhear or tease - that would take them about 3 minutes. After the next lecture, Day Two, they should start from the beginning of their notes, Day One, and read all the way through to the end of Day Two. That would take 6 minutes, more or less. They'd then have heard the first story twice, and the second story once. This goes on through all ten lectures. On that last day before the test, they'd have heard the first story ten times, then next nine, and so on. The last day's study would only take them about 30 total minutes it took to read through their notes OUT LOUD that last day. They would, this way, probably ace the exam because they'd heard the first story so many times they could tell it in their sleep, and the last story they just listened to him tell the class before. This was the smart and easy way to study... not much time spent at all, just gradually getting through it. The foolish way to study, even with excellent notes, was to just save them all up until the week before the exam, and then try to sift through 300 inches of material to figure out what would be on the test, or try to memorize the lot. Neither strategy worked as well as the gradual hearing, over and over again, of the stories.
He asked how many students wanted to try his "out loud" system, and how many did not. The class split about half and half, and not even particularly according to House. Half or so of Slytherin AND Gryffindor thought the out loud every day system would work for them, and half preferred not. He circulated two parchments, asking that each student pick a style of their choice and list their name, promising that after the next test he would post results anonymously, so they could make more informed choices for the future.
He intended, over the next two weeks, to show the students how to take notes for various class styles... like how to split their note books, journals, or parchment into columns for making illustrations of practical skills on one side, and narrative and comments down the other. This was a useful technique for charms or transfiguration, where you have wand movements or grips involved, or for arithmancy or potions where you may have equations or process steps, and then description or explanation involved for those steps.
A number of students, in every house, found themselves very excited and pleased with these lessons. They wanted to know how to "win at the school game", but few teachers bothered to teach the "how" of learning. The Professor also pointed out that his tests were very time intensive. There may well be some matching or fill in the blank questions, but half of the test or more would be essay questions.
Speed therefore became an issue, along with a certain amount of "guesswork" on part of both student and teacher. When he asked an essay question, he was looking for certain critical bits of information to be included in the answer. Sometimes, whether because he was not clear enough with the question, or because a student just read it in a way that took their mind in a different direction, a student gives an excellent answer that reflects real command of the material, but does not quite state the critical bits he is looking for. Then, he has to make a judgment whether to give the credit or not. He has to "guess" whether the student knows what he wants them to know, of if they don't. There is also the simple fact that some students get "test anxiety" when faced with an exam, and their mind just clicks at half speed, even though they know the information thoroughly.
Therefore, he makes an unusual option open to any student with the courage to take it. Whether they are having trouble interpreting a question, or if they are having trouble getting down all they know in the time limit, any student can ask to take an exam orally, rather than written. This was a double edged sword. If a student truly knew the material, and struggled with either clarity or time, an oral option allowed both him and the student to clarify the question and for him to ask specifically for the critical facts he is looking for. He had no doubt that there were times he gave credit on written exams that was unearned, because a student's answer was "so close to right" that he mistakenly assumed they knew the information. An oral option removed this "mistaken boon" of undeserved points. BUT, for any student who truly knew this stuff cold, an oral option removed tremendous pressure and tension, because it turned into a "discussion of the stories" as a pleasurable exercise. Any student could take this option simply by raising their hand when they received their test, at which point he and the student sat at his desk above the lecture pit, behind a muffling shield, and talked the test through.
The last point he went over was the "Student's Right to Choose their Grade". Every student knew, every day, what their current Term Grade was. By the time Midterm Grades - advisory grades, distributed to each Head of House - were calculated, based on two tests and all assignments up to that time, any and all students with an Acceptable or below on their current Term Grade, was to make an appointment to see Professor Konstantyn in his office. He believed that every student has a right to choose his/her grade. If a student was earning a failing grade, wanted to fail, intended to fail, and was happy to fail... that was fine. The Professor would not stand in their way. BUT, they had to be able to look him in the eye, privately in his office, and tell him that. If that was NOT what they wanted to do, then the two of them would work out what was causing the problem and see if a solution were available. He was equally open to such an appointment even if a student were earning an Exceeds Expectations, but wanted an Outstanding. "Normal curves" meant nothing to him. He'd be thrilled to turn out a section of 100% Outstandings, if scholastic performance merited it. It seemed the unfortunate case, however, that in any given group of students, there were those absolutely hellbound to fail. And he'd not disappoint them, if so.
Students left his classroom that day all abuzz with plots and plans, of how to manage their classloads differently. He would wait and see. There were always some that truly got it, and applied this new information. And then, there were the others. He laughed to reflect on Severus' term "dunderheads", who seemed determined not to grow, no matter what.
By the end of the day, he was more than ready to sit at the dining table working on grading essays and calculating the daily marks, with the children doing their homework over tea and biscuits. He found it soothed him greatly, just to sit quietly with them and answer their questions here and there. So much would be riding on tomorrow, he was going to enjoy the peace and quiet of tonight. Homework, tea, maybe some chess, then last minute consultation with the group over Supper at the High Table, and then... if the children were finished with their schoolwork for the week... nothing but recreation at home tonight before bed.
They all needed to unwind and relax. Severus and Minerva were welcome, but only if they could play a respectable game of Monopoly, chess, or backgammon. Or perhaps Cluedo? Now THERE's a game he'd like to play against Severus! He'd see, after Supper!
