Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of The Owl. Chapter 30: Dark Arts And Flying Brooms
DISCLAIMER: Daria is the creation of Glen Eichler and is owned by MTV Viacom. Harry Potter is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling, Wizarding World, and Warner Brothers. I own neither property. I am writing for my amusement, not for profit, and neither expect nor deserve any financial reward for this work of fiction.
Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of The Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of The Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of The Owl
Daria's next class was Defense Against the Dark Arts. She looked forward to it with a mixture of worry and anticipation. By rights, Defense Against the Dark Arts ought to be the most exciting class. Daria knew very little about the Dark Arts and what little she knew came from the Sophie books she'd read when she was younger. While a lot of the information in the Sophie books turned out to be accurate, just as much turned out to be either suspect or false. She was beginning to wonder if the MACUSA might have had a hand in producing the series and that they might have been deliberately written as disinformation. Either way, she knew she needed better information and education.
By now she'd been at Hogwarts long enough for the upper-year students to get used enough to her and to feel comfortable enough to ask them questions. She started asking some of the older Ravenclaws if they knew anything about the DADA professor and learned that most of them knew nothing about him. She learned that he was new, just as his predecessor had been the year before and the predecessor's predecessor. Violet Banks told her that there was something off about the Defense Against the Dark Arts post. The professorship had been constantly rotating, with professors lasting only one year, then either quitting or falling victim to some curse or other. Something was dodgy. Daria didn't know enough about magic to know what it was, except that it sounded dark.
She made her way to the DADA classroom; she'd learned that it was near the dungeons. She walked into the classroom and looked around for a seat. Both seats next to Dahlia Banks were taken, so Daria seated herself next to Anahita Waring. She glanced over to the other side of the room side and saw students wearing green and silver neckties. Just like at her other core classes, she and her fellow Ravenclaws would be paired off with students from another house: in this case, Slytherin. She wasn't entirely surprised; Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were the houses that had had the biggest intake this year.
She wondered if she knew anybody over there. Curious, she looked over at the Slytherin side of the room and saw both of her distant Barksdale cousins and frowned. The Le Noir girl was with them.
Crap, she thought to herself.
The instructor walked in. He was bare-headed. He was dressed in a long, flowing black cloak with trousers, shirt, and a jacket cut in Wizarding fashion.
"Good mornin' to ye," he said. "My name is Connall MacRae and I'm gang ta bae yer Professor. I'm here to teach ye weans Defense Against the Dark Arts." He then wrote DADA and then his name on the chalk board.
He sounds Scots, she thought, which she later remembered as one of her Hogwarts Captain Obvious moments.
"We'll first start by taking roll," he said.
"Allstone, Corwin," he read
"Here!" said Corwin.
"Banks, Dahlia," he read.
"Here!" said Dahlia.
Barksdale, Callista!" he read.
"Here!" said one of the two Barksdale cousins.
Barksdale, Livia," he read.
"Here!" said the other Barksdale cousin.
Cadwallader, Rufus," he read, breaking the rhythm of girl's names.
"Here!" said a Slytherin boy with what Daria thought was a North-of-England accent.
"Carline, Caitriona," read the professor.
A Slytherin girl raised her hand and said "Here!" in a thick Scottish accent, making the Professor smile.
"Chang, Cho," read Professor MacRae.
"Here!" said Cho, her Scottish accent showing.
Professor MacRae nodded in approval.
And so down the alphabet until he reached the M's.
"Morgen_," he began, then "Morgendorffer, Daria."
"Here," she said.
He read the remaining names and smiled. "I see ye're all here and we hae one, two, three bonnie Barksdale lasses," he joked.
Callista Barksdale raised her hand.
"Yes, Miss Barksdale?" said Professor MacRae.
"Excuse me, Professor," she said, pointing at Daria. "That girl over there isn't a real Barksdale."
Anahita Waring heard the disapproving gasps of her fellow Ravenclaws at Callista Barksdale's comment. She glanced over at Daria to see her reaction and saw the look of cold stone fury on her face. Callista's comment must have cut her roommate to the quick. Daria had talked a little about her family in the dorm and Anahita had seen photos of Daria's mother and sisters—they, like her, had unmistakably Barksdale features. The Barksdale girl's accusation was dead wrong: why did she make it? Probably some Barksdale reason or other. She put her hand on Daria's shoulder to show her support. Daria responded by reaching back with her right hand and patting it.
Professor MacRae was no fool and, unlike most new hires for Hogwarts' Defense Against the Dark Arts post, he'd had previous teaching experience.
"Miss Barksdale," he said coldly. "Hae ye ever seen Miss Morgendorffer before she came tae Hogwarts?"
"Aye," she responded with a smirk and a mock-Scottish accent. "I saw her on the train," earning looks of disapproval not only from Professor MacRae, but also from the other Scots in the room.
"Weel, lass, ye'd better listen," he said coldly. "I am na' interested in yer family feuds with gels ye'd never seen before ye came here. Ye weel behave, an' ye weel show good manners within this classroom. Five points and detention, and I weel be talking tae Professor Snape aboot today."
There were gasps from the Slytherin side of the classroom and looks of disapproval. Anahita noted that not all of those looks were directed at Daria or the Professor. Some of them were directed at the Barksdale cousins. They'd already cost their house points.
-(((O-O)))—
Anahita was no legilemens, so she was unable to overhear what Daria was thinking. She saw Daria's expression of shock, then her look of cold fury at the Barksdale girl's insult, was unable to hear Daria's inner voice. If she had been, she would have overheard her roommate silently saying "If we can't be friends, then Game On, Chickies."
-(((O-O)))—
Despite his thick accent, Professor MacRae was thoroughly professional. If he lacked a British Muggle's teacher's certificate, he not only had a lesson plan but control of his classroom. He began his class by asking his pupils if they had any idea as to the nature of the Dark Arts. After writing down several definitions on the chalk board, he then asked the class to begin categorizing the threats they presented.
Daria spent the first part of the give-and-take clenching her teeth and trying to take notes on parchment with her still-unfamiliar quill. She felt uncomfortable doing so; back in Highland, she wasn't that afraid of raising her hand when the questions lulled, but she was still behind on her course reading and did not care to be shown up by her better-prepared classmates.
Professor MacRae devoted the second half of the class to defenses against some of the charms and curses they might be facing, as well as charms that could be used against some of the more dangerous magical creatures they might be facing. To Daria's relief, her recollections from the Sophie series helped a lot; the wizards and witches in the Sophie books had used some of the shield charms that Professor MacRae had talked about, although the Sophie author had given those charms different names. Daria took down notes and wondered if there were methods for her to organize what she was learning.
Class ended. Anahita put her hand on her shoulder. "That was an awful thing to say," she said.
"Thank you," Daria replied.
"That was horrible," Dahlia said with indignation. "How could she?"
"Maybe she thought she could get away with it," said Dennis MacLeod, like her, a Ravenclaw fledgling.
"She won't," said Corwin. "When she returns to Slytherin, she'll find that her housemates won't be happy with her for costing them points. Professor Snape won't be pleased."
Daria made a half-smile. She hoped it would be true. She and her fellow Ravenclaws then headed off for the greenhouses and Herbology. She hoped that Professor Sprout wasn't still angry at her for her inaction regarding Cuthbert's torn knee.
She looked for Cuthbert and to her dismay, she didn't see him. Despite Cuthbert's absence, Professor Sprout taught today's class as if it was just another day in the greenhouse. Daria took down names and notes about magical plants, their properties, and some of their uses. After class, she came up to Professor Sprout and said "Excuse me, Professor, but where's Cuthbert?"
"He's fine," said Professor Sprout. "After I learned about his limp I sent him over to Madam Pomfrey. She told me that it had healed wrong and she sent him off to Saint Mungo's to have his knee set right. He spent two nights there and should be back here after another day of laying-up."
"Thank you for asking about him," she said.
"Thank you for telling me, Ma'am," said Daria. "I kind of like the guy. We go back."
"You're welcome," said Professor Sprout. "Now if you'll excuse me, Miss Langtry has a question." She turned away to talk to a Gryffindor girl who'd been waiting her turn.
-(((O-O)))—
Daria had lunch at the Ravenclaw table, sitting near Anahita and Dahlia. Several of the girl had been grumbling about Professor MacRae's thick Scottish accent. Marietta had been one of the grumblers.
"His accent is so thick that you can't understand him. It's worse than Morgendorffer's," she complained. Her voice carried enough for Daria to take notice. She looked over at her direction, glowered at Edgecombe, and noted that Cho Chang wasn't there when she said it; Cho was visiting the Hufflepuff table.
A couple of the Scots at the table had overheard her and gave her dirty looks. Daria had no sympathy for Marietta; she ought to have known better. Daria suspected that even Cho might have been offended—while Cho didn't strike her as a likely recruit for the Scottish Independence Party, she was proud of being a Scot by birth, if not by blood.
Daria sat there expectantly, waiting to see how the Ravenclaw Scots would react to Marietta's complaining when Majda tossed her into the conversation by saying "And what do you think, Daria?".
Daria smiled, then said "Home Court Advantage." Some of the Muggle-born understood the term if not the context, the wizarding-raised didn't understand any of it.
"What do you mean?" said Cynthia Farmer, intrigued.
"Well, Hogwarts is in Scotland," said Daria.
A couple of the Scots at the table grinned.
"And not only that, we're in the Highlands," Daria went on. A couple of the English girls decided that they didn't like the way this conversation was going and gave Daria looks of disapproval.
"So I reckon Professor MacRae doesn't think he has to tailor his speech to make the Sassenachs happy," she concluded, slightly ratcheting up her west Texas accent.
Several of the Scots laughed at her comment.
"Which leaves you in our predicament," said Cynthia Farmer. "I doubt you understand him that well either."
"Touché," said Daria. "I guess I'll have to struggle along as best I can."
-=(((O-O)))—
Her first formal flight lesson was that afternoon. Violet had told her and Dahlia that flying class was taught by Madam Hooch, who had put in many years at professional Quidditch and was a noted flyer.
She and her fellow Ravenclaws left the comfort of the Castle and made their way towards a flat, open field lying opposite the Forbidden Forest. The weather outdoors was cool and damp: it had rained late the day before and during the morning, although the cloud cover was now breaking up and they could see some blue sky. Daria heard her shoe soles make occasional squishing sounds and looked down at the mud finding its way onto her shoes and socks with disapproval.
She wondered how she'd do. She was grateful that this wasn't going to be her very first time on a broom: the Aldretes had managed to coax her onto what they called a training broom, an older model that had been charmed not to rise much more than a meter off the ground. Daria had flown around a large pasture a few times to get used to the idea and sensations of broom flight. It had been interesting, but she wasn't sure what she thought of it.
Anahita looked over at Daria. She saw that Texas girl was not wearing an approved Hogwarts scarf.
"Daria, that's not a school scarf you're wearing," she said. "Is there something special about it?"
"It was my grandfather's," Daria replied. "He gave it to me before he died."
"He wasn't a wizard, was he?" said Dahlia.
"No," Daria replied. "He was a Muggle."
"So does your scarf have any meaning?" she said.
"It does," said Daria. "He was a Marine aviator and he gave me the scarf to wear if I ever took flying lessons. We might not be going up in single-engine aircraft, but I think this counts."
"A Muggle flyer!" Anahita exclaimed. She'd heard horrible things about Muggle flying machines from her cousins. "Is your grandfather still alive?" she said.
"No, he died last year," Daria replied.
"I'm sorry," said Anahita. "Not a prang, I hope?"
A crash, she meant. Daria had learned some British idioms and tried to imagine the old man she'd met in Coalton flying on a broomstick. Her imagination refused to co-operate.
"No, a stroke," she said.
They reached the field. Daria knew next to nothing about aviation, but she spotted two big differences between this open, grassy patch and a proper airfield: no runway, and no wind sock. She hoped that she wasn't expected to take off into the wind.
If there was no runway, there were two lines of broom neatly lined up and waiting for them.
If there were brooms, there was no Professor. Daria, Anahita, and the other students all looked around to see if they could spot her. Even Daria could recognize her by sight.
"Where is Madam Hooch?" asked Dahlia Banks.
A woman in a leather jacket and denims swooped down from uphill by broom and hastily dismounted.
"Good morning, class," she said.
"Good morning," replied the students. This wasn't Madam Hooch. Who was she?
"My name is Ariel Handley," she said. "I'll be teaching your class today."
A hand went up. One of the Slytherins, Daria noted.
"Yes," said the girl. Daria noted that the girl didn't seem too sure of herself.
"Where is Madam Hooch?" asked the Slytherin boy.
"Madam Hooch had a medical emergency and is currently at St. Mungo's," said Miss Handley. "She should be back the day after tomorrow."
So this Handley girl was a substitute. If this had been a class taught by the Highland Independent School District, Daria would have turned away and walked back to the Castle, points or no points.
Miss Handley looked nervous and decided to call roll. Either she's trying to cover her nervousness or she wants to know who's going to break their neck this afternoon, she thought sardonically.
After she finished taking roll, Mrs. Handley invited everyone to go stand by a broom. The wizarding children led off, followed by Daria and a couple of the stouter-hearted Muggle-born while the other Muggle-born children hung back.
"Come on now," said Miss Handley, "Everyone by a broom!"
Moments later, everyone was standing by a broom.
A couple of children seemed to be south-paws and Miss Handley had to tell them to stand to the left of their broomsticks. "Now everyone stick their right hand over their broom and say "Up!"."
"Up!" everyone shouted.
Daria's broom trembled for a moment, then rose into her hand. She frowned.
Miss Handley then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the ends, then walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. She reached Daria and her broom and grinned.
"A Mexican straddle!" she said. "Did you do that by accident or on purpose?"
A Mexican straddle, thought Daria. She'd never heard the term before.
"I'm from Texas," said Daria. "This is how I was taught to mount a broom."
"Well, you're in Britain, so you'll have to learn the way we do it here," said Miss Handley.
Daria grudgingly shifted her grip and position. This Hogwarts style felt uncomfortable and wrong.
Miss Handley made some more corrections, then walked to the center of the field.
"Now when I blow my whistle, you kick off the ground HARD!" she exclaimed, for once sounding like an authority figure and not a student-teacher. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, then come back down by leaning forward slightly. On my mark, three, two, one…" She blew her whistle.
Daria tilted her broom slightly backward, kicked off and rose in the air. She then leaned slightly forward, but in spite of her posture and her desire to level out, her broom kept rising. Concerned, she leaned forward and to her alarm realized that her broom continued to rise, howbeit slowly.
The broom was not responding. Daria knew that she knew little about brooms but decided that this broom was messed up. The broom had already risen to ten feet and continued to rise. She was going to have to bail, and bail soon. This broom lacked stirrups. She made a split-second inventory: was there anything she was wearing that might snag? There wasn't.
"Morgendorffer, come back down here!" shouted Miss Handley.
There was only one thing to do, Daria hoped it would work. She made a barrel roll. She was now upside down. She shifted her legs, then as she expected, she found herself dangling from the broom by her fingers. She looked down.
Twelve feet. Now or never. She prayed that she didn't break anything when she landed, then let go.
She landed in a heap in the muddy grass. Fortunately, most of the impact was on her hip and butt. It hurt like hell, but she didn't think anything was broken. In spite of her self-congratulation, she was certain that she was going to bruise.
Miss Handley ran up to her. "Morgendorffer!" she said. "What the Hell just happened?"
"Bad broom," said Daria. "That broom's messed up. It wouldn't respond to my commands. I decided to bail before I got too high."
"So why didn't you come back down?" said Miss Handley, a tinge of panic mixed in with her anger.
"Because the broom wasn't responding," Daria replied.
"Are you hurt?" asked Miss Handley.
"I don't think so," Daria replied. She rose awkwardly then found herself standing on her feet.
A couple of her fellow Ravenclaws started applauding.
"That was a poor landing, Morgendorffer," said Miss Handley, trying to shift back into teacher mode.
But I'm alive, thought Daria, and that's what counts.
"You, Coombs," she said, pointing at a straw-haired Slytherin boy about Daria's age. "Take Miss Morgendorffer to Madam Pomfrey's to make sure that she's all right. Chop-Chop!"
The Slytherin boy guided Daria away from the field and towards the Castle. He looked at her with a mixture of awe and concern.
"Was that your first time on a broom?" he asked.
"Kinda-sorta," said Daria. "I flew on a kiddie broom a couple of times back home."
"Are you a Yank?" asked Coombs.
"Guilty as charged," Daria replied. "I'm from Texas."
"Is that why you're wearing that scarf?" asked Coombs.
"No, my grandfather was a Marine aviator during the Second Great Muggle War," Daria replied. "He wore the first time he ever flew."
"In a Muggle airplane," said Coombs. Despite his house and his probable Pureblood ancestry, the young wizard looked impressed.
"Don't worry too much about your landing," he said. "I've got mates who fell off their brooms when they were learning to fly, but don't tell anybody."
"Tell them what?" said Daria, making the young wizard grin.
"You know, there's an old Muggle pilot's saying," said Daria.
"What?" said Coombs. His tone of voice said that he didn't expect anything profound from her.
"It goes like this," said Daria. "Any landing that you can walk away from is a good landing."
Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of The Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of The Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of The Owl
Author's Notes: Several months ago, I read a Harry Potter fan novel with an original character who began attending Hogwarts the year before Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger arrived at Hogwarts. Since canon Harry Potter's Defense Against The Dark Arts Class had a constantly-rotating professorship, the author chose to have a Scottish Highlander as that year's Professor. I was so impressed that I wanted to borrow the idea and give her credit in this story. Unfortunately, I forgot to write it down.
I still don't remember your name. Whoever you are, wherever you are, thank you for a wonderful idea! I wish I knew your screen name so I could give you credit.
Also, I apologize to any Scots or folk of Scottish extraction reading this. I'm from Texas and my command of Scots dialect (particularly that of the Highlands) is extremely limited. I apologize for my gaffs.
-=(((O-O)))—
Yes, the broom scene is derived from the flying lesson from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone/Philosopher's Stone. I decided to explore how this version of Daria Morgendorffer would handle being in poor Neville's situation. I theorized that Neville didn't get the only bad school broom and that the reason poor Neville is likely to get a bad broom the following year is because of the short-comings of institutional memory. The substitute teacher may or may not have told Madam Hooch about Daria's bad broom or just left a written memo. Had Madam Hooch been present at Daria's flying lesson instead of a substitute, it would have been highly likely that Neville's first flying lesson the following year would have passed without incident.
