Sunday afternoon, Harry found himself lounging in the library. Deeply immersed in a large tome on the medical benefits of the Dark Arts, he was enjoying the last few hours before the rest of the student population would return to the castle. Thinking back on the last few days since his meeting with Corvus and Lucius, he could not help but remark how relaxing, yet entertaining those days had been. He had spent most of the afternoons with Hermione in the library, while meeting up with the Weasley twins at night to work on their latest inventions, which were getting more and more refined with each passing meeting. Neither Harry nor the twins could wait to try them out, especially the Canary Cream they were currently developing.
"Are you sure you don't want me to sketch up a revision table for you?" Hermione's words brought him back to reality, "the exams aren't that far along and…"
"Hermione, for the last time," Harry sighed, looking up from his book, "I do not need a revision table. I have no problem with the Spellwork and the theory…"
"But what," Hermione interrupted his explanation, a worried expression in her eyes, "if you do not remember…"
"For the last time, Hermione," Harry repeated his words, although with a much sterner voice, "I have a perfect recollection of the theory we have covered in class and always get the new Spells, Charms, Transfiguration, and Hexes to work on the first try. The exams…"
"But how can you be sure of that?" Hermione cried out, although still quiet enough to not attract Madam Pince, "it's been months since we've covered some of the material in class and an older student told me that not all teachers do revision…"
"Hermione, I hardly ever forget any titbit of information," Harry explained calmly, "it is an almost impossible feat to forget with an eidetic memory."
"An eidetic memory?" Hermione breathed, her eyes growing wide, "but how?"
"Don't know," Harry said shrugging his shoulders, lying easily, "I've always had it. Never had a problem recalling anything, even complete books, page to page, word for word. I must admit that it is a quite handy skill to possess. It surely makes learning basically anything quite easy and in turn studying for any sort of exam rather redundant."
"That's how you've been able to study so effortlessly, "Hermione said, her eyes shining in realisation, "the reason why you are able to finish your homework so quickly."
"It certainly did contribute its part," Harry answered, "although I still have to process the information like everybody else and make an effort to understand whatever I come across. It is not like I get everything immediately…"
"But learning seems so easy for you," Hermione protested, "you already know everything we do in class and…"
"Because I read ahead," Harry chuckled, "that's all there is."
Hermione did not look entirely convinced, "I still think what you do is magic."
"Might be," Harry smiled, accompanied by a roll of his eyes.
"Still, are you really sure you don't want me to sketch you up a revision table?" Hermione asked hopefully, "you can never be too sure. What if you do not remem…"
"Hermione, I am sure," Harry said, his voice firm, "and I would prefer if you would leave it at that."
Hermione remained quiet for a few seconds, before curiosity seemed to have peaked once more, "Are you going to revise at all?"
"Probably not," Harry chuckled, "as I said I know my theory and the practical work is easy."
After those words, his eyes reverted to the runes in the tome he was still holding. But before he continued to read, he spoke up once more, "Oh, and Hermione, I would prefer if the content of our conversation was to remain private."
That evening, the rest of the student population returned, and the Great Hall was crowded once again. Draco seemed to be none the wiser that Harry had visited Malfoy Manor , while Neville was happily talking about his Semi-Thaumatagoria which seemed to have grown quite a bit since the Yule holidays. Throughout the entire evening, Harry could not help but feel excited about the next day and the continuation of classes. After all, the Committee of Education was set to arrive tomorrow, and the inspection of Hogwarts was about to start.
The next morning, Harry and his group of Slytherins entered the Great Hall even earlier than usual. Sure, it had involved a lot more grumbling on Draco's behalf, but Harry was not going to miss any of the spectacle for the world. As they were making their way to their house table, Harry noticed that, while hardly any students were present yet, the entire staff was already seated. While teachers like Severus and McGonagall, maybe Sinistra and Vector, often started their day rather early, it was uncommon for most teachers, especially Dumbledore, to make an appearance before eight. Upon closer inspection, the usually cheerful Headmaster looked worried and tired, his trademark twinkle absent and dark bags underneath his eyes.
Taking his seat, Harry reached for a bowl of porridge. He immediately started to pile his porridge with a vast variety of fruits and nuts. While eating, he closely observed the staff table. While Severus was his usual closed-off self, hunched over a book, his face obscured by a curtain of shiny black hair while a piece of toast would occasionally find its way to his mouth or throwing an observant glance at the house tables, most teachers were unusually cheerful. Professor Sprout and Madam Hooch were animatedly chatting about possible new plants and brooms. Professor Vector and Professor Babbling appeared to be discussing discontinued classes, while Professor Sinistra seemed to be explaining some unusual planet movements to Professor Flitwick.
Of course, there were exceptions at the staff table. The fraud Trelawney was obviously struggling to stay awake. Harry was honestly surprised that the wretched failure of a teacher had even made it to breakfast. She had never had breakfast in the Great Hall in the many months since Harry had started at Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall on the other hand looked like the end of the world was about to arrive. She was glaring angrily at the entrance of the Great Hall, as if the Four Horsemen could pass through at any given moment, while her lips were pressed together tightly, making it seem like they had disappeared altogether. Whenever McGonagall was not burning holes in the large wooden double door, she was intently listening to the Headmaster, nodding along his words, or adding a few words here and there, without doubt discussing the bad that would come out of the Ministry's involvement at Hogwarts. Still, no other faculty member seemed to be sharing their dark mood.
Over the course of the next hour, the Great Hall slowly began to fill. When Draco was just about to grumble what a waste of his sleep it had been to get to breakfast so early, the massive doors of the Great Hall were thrown open. All heads at all four house tables turned, as the members of the Committee of Education strode into the hall, while Dumbledore tried yet failed to conceal the frown that appeared on his face at the sight of the five Witches and Wizards that had just arrived.
Unsurprisingly, the group was led by Bartemius Crouch Senior, who looked almost exactly like the last time Tom had seen him. His grey hair, which was uncharacteristically short for a Wizard, was neatly parted to the point that it looked almost unnaturally straight and was completed by a narrow toothbrush moustache which appeared to have been cut with the help of a ruler. His expensive Wizarding robes were void of any wrinkle, like they had been magically straightened mere seconds prior. Despite the hollow cheeks and the deep wrinkles that had not been as pronounced a decade prior, his dark eyes were shining with the same determination as they always had. Tom immediately knew that Crouch Senior was taking his job very seriously. There was no doubt that he would stick to the rules and try his best to increase the standard of education at Hogwarts.
He was followed by Helena Yaxley and Eleonore Diggory. While both Witches had opted for a similar, professional cut of Wizarding robes, that is where the familiarity ended. Whereas the blonde-haired Lady Diggory was gracing her son Cedric, the newly appointed Seeker of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, with a wide and warm smile, Helena Yaxley's face was unreadable, the perfect, blank mask of a Pureblood firmly in place, only her eyes were slightly narrowed as she observed her surroundings, always on the lookout for potential danger. While Eleonore Diggory wore her hair open and carried herself with the typical elegance associated with a proper Pureblood Witch, Lady Yaxley had her dark brown hair braided back tightly, while her precise and calculated movements spoke of her years of experience as an Auror.
They were followed by the tall and muscular frame of Thorfinn Rowle, yet his outwards appearance did betray the eye. Tom only knew too well that Thorfinn's movements were as fast, precise, and deadly as a viper. He had not become Britain's most well-renowned Duelling and Defence instructor as well as won the Duelling Championship seven times without a reason. To pay homage to his profession, he was dressed as always in dark Duelling robes of the finest quality. His strawy blond hair was meticulously kept short. To this day, it reminded Tom of the Muggle military haircuts he had seen throughout his summers at Wool's Orphanage, when London had been filled with military personnel. Thorfinn's impressive goatee on the other hand did not line in with the military at all. Unlike Eleonore Diggory, Thorfinn's sharp blue eyes only rested a fraction of a second on his daughter Rhea. After all, a proper Pureblood always kept displays of emotions out of the public eye.
When Tom caught sight of the fifth and final member of the Committee, he gasped. He could now understand the reluctance in which Lucius had spoken of the injuries Saul Croaker had sustained deep within the Department of Mysteries. The side of his face that was facing towards the Slytherin table, his left side Tom supposed, was almost entirely covered with thick layers of scar tissue. Despite being years old, the angry scars looked like they were still inflamed, almost like they could rip at any moment, bleeding profoundly. The scars covered almost the entirety of the left side of his face, stretching from his nose over to the meagre remnants of his left ear to the back of his head, as well as further down his neck. But what really stood out against the red scar tissue was his left eye in all its milky-white glory. The blind eye stood in stark contrast to the other forest-green one that had thankfully remained unaffected by the experiment gone wrong. For a more even appearance, Saul Croaker had shaved the right side of his head and had tied the remaining mohawk-esque strip of hair on top of his head to a messy bun. Despite his gruesome exterior, the Unspeakable appeared to be in good spirits as he followed the rest of the Committee of Education to the front of the Great Hall.
Once the five Witches and Wizards had reached the staff table, Dumbledore rose from his seat, although reluctantly to welcome the Committee as well as explain the reasoning for their presence to the students. Overall, it was a rather short and unenlightening introduction, which was gladly rectified by Bartemius Crouch Senior. The head of the Committee curtly explained that over the course of the next month every class would be thoroughly inspected to ensure the best possible education for the next generations of Witches and Wizards. Apart from that, the Committee would also assess the state of the castle itself, while a group of Gringotts finest curse breakers would check the wards of the castle later that month. Throughout the entire, although rather curt speech, Dumbledore's face turned more and more sour. After Crouch had finished, the Committee was quickly led out of the hall through the door behind the staff table.
For the next three days, Harry did not see or hear any sign of the members of the Committee in class, and neither did the rest of the Slytherins. While the members of the Committee clearly were spending time in the school, since they now joined the teachers at the staff table during meals and were frequently seen on the corridors, it seemed like they were not inspecting the classes yet and were otherwise occupied for now.
This changed on Thursday morning, as Harry entered the Transfiguration classroom. While he could clearly sense Professor McGonagall's presence in the classroom, there was also a second magical aura in the room. His eyes quickly landed on Helena Yaxley. The stern Witch was standing in the back of the room, a clipboard tensely grasped between her fingers. He did not need to be a psychiatrist to sense the tension between the two stern Witches. This lesson surely would be interesting.
After taking his usual seat in the front row, Harry almost anxiously waited for the bell to ring. When the bell did actually ring, Harry noted that quite a few seats on the Gryffindor side still were empty. Also, there was a suspicious lack of ginger hair. Professor McGonagall, too, seemed to have made the same observation, as a frown made its way onto her face as she stared at the empty seats, "Now that all of you have managed to turn mice into snuffboxes, we will move on. Today, we will start with the…"
Just at that moment, the door of the classroom burst open as Ronald Weasley and his gang stormed into the room.
"Mister Weasley, Mister Finnegan, Mister Thomas, Mister McLaggen, you are late," Professor McGonagall chided her lions, her voice stern, "this class started a few minutes ago. Do not be late again. Take your seats."
Not caring the slightest about the words of his Head of House, Weasley let himself fall on his seat, his washed-out robes stained with the remnants of his breakfast. The rest of his gang quickly followed suit. Once the four Gryffindors had been seated, Professor McGonagall turned her attention back to the class, "As I was saying, we will start with…"
"Excuse me, Professor," a stern voice suddenly cut through the room, making all heads turn, "the rules of this school clearly state that students must arrive to class on time, unless they have a solid excuse which must be issued by another member of the faculty. If they are not in the possession of such an excuse, the offense is sanctioned by deducing house points, while repeated offenders shall be punished by additionally serving detentions. Since this is my first day observing this particular class, five points shall be removed from Gryffindor each. I trust in your judgement, Professor, to assign additional punishment should this not be the first transgression."
Judging from the look on Professor McGonagall's face, it looked like she had just bitten into a lemon. It seemed like the members of the Committee of Education were allowed to take points and assign detentions. It was just too good to see the house of the lions losing points without McGonagall being able to do a thing about it. Harry tried to keep a straight face, while the Dark Lord was cackling like a madman at her expression. Today's Transfiguration class really had a lot of potential.
"No further punishment is necessary, Misses Yaxley, since this is their first transgression," Professor McGonagall lied. Of course, she would protect her lions. The fact that she had just lied to a member of the Committee of Education spoke louder than words. The loud scratching on parchment following McGonagall's proclamation, too, spoke louder than words. It was obvious that Helena Yaxley was not convinced by the words of the Transfiguration teacher.
"Class, as I was about to tell you," Professor McGonagall raised her voice once more, "today, a new Transfiguration will be introduced. Can anyone tell me the incantation for the Lesser Bird-Conjuring Spell?"
A few hands shot in the air. As always, the Slytherin side of the room was ignored as Professor McGonagall called out, "Miss Patil."
"Professor, the incantation is Avifors ," Parvati answered, her voice loud and clear, "it is pronounced ' AH-vi-fors' ."
"Correct," Professor McGonagall said curtly, "five points to Gryffindor. Can anyone show me the wand movement?"
Again, hands shot in the air and again, the Slytherins were ignored, "Miss Vane."
"The Transfiguration is performed with a sideways figure eight," Romilda Vane answered quickly, before demonstrating the movement.
"Correct," Professor McGonagall said, "five points to Gryffindor."
Many Slytherins openly rolled their eyes at the blatant favouring the Gryffindor Head of House was showing. Since by now, most were used to McGonagall's antics, the Slytherins simply kept quiet. When one of them raised their voice unasked for, it only resulted in lost house points and detentions. Not that the lions would ever be punished in a similar way. But unlike the Slytherins, Helena Yaxley had no such qualms about keeping her disdain quiet. Harry could have sworn that he heard her snort even in the front row where he was sitting.
It seemed like Professor McGonagall, too, had heard the noise as she hesitated to continue. After a fraction of a second, she flicked her wand and basic instructions appeared on the board, consisting of nothing more detailed but the incantation and the wand movement, not that she ever put more on the board. Professor McGonagall graced her students with her usual no nonsense look, before demonstrating the Transfiguration by turning an inkwell into a small golden bird. After the declarations of wonder from the Gryffindors had died down, she quickly told them to start practising the new Transfiguration.
Just as the first students had started to raise their wands, Helena Yaxley raised her voice once more, "Excuse me, Professor McGonagall. I would like you to clarify a few points before the students delve into the practical aspect of the Transfiguration. Did you truly introduce this particular Transfiguration just now and not during any previous lessons?"
The vein on Professor McGonagall's forehead was throbbing as she stared at the Witch opposite her, "No, I only did introduce the Transfiguration just now. Why should this be of any interest?"
Instead of an instant reply, the question was once again met by the scratching of Yaxley's quill on parchment as the Witch was scribbling away. After a few seconds, the member of the Committee of Education looked up from her clipboard, "Do you intend to introduce the theory behind the Transfiguration throughout today's class?"
"No," Professor McGonagall said, trying yet failing to veil her anger, locking her arms in front of her chest in a defensive pose, "it is a part of their homework."
Instead of openly showing her emotions, Helena Yaxley raised a single eyebrow, "Will the theory be discussed next lesson?"
"No, they will continue to practise the Transfiguration," Professor McGonagall explained curtly.
"Will the theory be discussed at all?" Helena Yaxley finally asked the question Harry and Tom had been waiting for.
"Why should this be of any concern?" Professor McGonagall snapped, a murderous expression in her eyes.
Harry and Tom soaked up the conversation like a sponge. It seemed like Helena Yaxley was born to rile up the stern Transfiguration teacher, yet both knew exactly why she was doing it. In the end, it had been long overdue.
"Professor, please answer my question," Helena Yaxley said calmly, outwardly appearing as cool as a cucumber.
"No," Professor McGonagall began to speak, "but it is a part of their homework. Therefore, it should be thoroughly…"
"Most scholars disagree with your assessment," Helena Yaxley interrupted her, her voice calm as she stated the facts, while her quill was once again scratching over parchment. After a tense and quiet moment, the quill stopped and the Witch looked up from her clipboard to directly meet Professor McGonagall's furious eyes, "most if not all of them emphasise on the importance of a thorough theoretical understanding behind any given Transfiguration. It allows the learner to master the Transfiguration much faster, guarantees much more precise and longer lasting results, as well as prevents most accidents. Since most experts agree that a deep theoretical understanding is crucial, I simply cannot help but point out the lack of theory in your class. While a sufficient amount of practise is crucial as well, not discussing the theory at all, leaving it up to self-study, does not seem right to me. But please, go on."
For a minute, the classroom was entirely silent as the two stern Witches were staring at each other. Eventually, McGonagall broke the gaze and told her students to finally start practising the Transfiguration.
While around him students started to practise, Harry was much too busy musing over the exchange he had just witnessed. In fact, he was so distracted that at first, he did not notice Professor McGonagall approaching, "Mister Potter, do you think yourself above practise?"
"No, professor," Harry replied calmly, clearly aware that Helena Yaxley was listening to every word that was being exchanged.
Clearly not impressed by his response, Professor McGonagall told him to demonstrate the Transfiguration. Shrugging his shoulders, Harry simply pointed his Blackthorn wand at the wooden box in front of him and focussed his magic. Transfiguring inanimate objects into living organisms was a lot harder than turning one metal into another. Luckily, Harry knew enough about birds to achieve a permanent Transfiguration. Focussing on the basic layout of the nervous system, skeleton, and the major muscles of a sparrow, Harry released a fraction of his magic. Without uttering a single word, the box in front of him began to shift. Slowly, the wood began to morph into bones, muscles, nerves, and organs, before the light-brown plumage began to grow. Reaching out his finger, the bird immediately jumped on the offered perch.
While the students around him were all staring in awe at the little bird, Professor McGonagall only glared at the small creature. Without another word, she pulled out her wand, pointing it at the sparrow, uttering the standard Reversal Spell. Instead of turning back into a wooden box, the sparrow began to chirp happily.
"Mister Potter," Professor McGonagall glared, "I demand a demonstration of the official Spell, not your little tricks."
Instead of a verbal reply, Harry only raised an eyebrow at the enraged professor. He was about to raise his wand to demonstrate the "official" yet subpar, non-permanent Transfiguration, when another voice cut through the silence, "Professor, what appears to be the problem? As far as I can tell, Mister Potter managed to perfectly Transfigure his wooden box into a sparrow. For that, I award fifteen points to Slytherin."
"Misses Yaxley, while Mister Potter did manage to Transfigure his wooden box," Professor McGonagall snapped, her eyes glittering with anger, "he did not use the official incantation…"
"I do not see why that should be a bad thing," Helena Yaxley interrupted her, her tone light, "as we all know, there are many ways to achieve a Transfiguration, especially if one has grasped the theory behind the branch of magic and has gained a sufficient amount of control over their magic. After that, almost everything should be possible…"
"But not permanent Transfigurations," Professor McGonagall snarled, "the Avifors Spell only Transfigures a small inanimate object for a set time…"
"Permanent Transfiguration?" Helena Yaxley suddenly asked, an expression of awe appearing on her blank face, "would you mind elaborating on your methods, Mister Potter?"
"Lady Yaxley, when I was experiencing my first bursts of experimental magic, I accidentally Transfigured a few small objects. I once turned my cousin's toy car pink. Nothing significant, "Harry lied easily, "oddly, I realised that after a certain amount of time, most objects returned to their original state. Over time, I managed to control my magic, but the objects never remained in their Transfigured state. I began to wonder why that was the case. At the same time during my advanced chemistry classes, I learned about the build of different elements on the atomic level. An element is only stable if a specific number of atoms is positioned correctly. If atoms are wrongly positioned, missing, or surplus to requirement, the element disintegrates over time. I started to experiment. I discovered that most commonly used Transfigurations do not line in with these specific requirements. Thus, most Transfigured or Conjured objects or living beings disintegrate, return to their initial form, and can overall be easily Reversed since there are defects on atomic level. If you know enough about the correct build of the elements, you can circumvent these problems, thus leading to permanent results that cannot be Reversed easily…"
"Mister Potter," Professor McGonagall interrupted him, "how often must I remind you that Muggle science and Magical Theory do not…"
"Professor McGonagall, please continue your class. I have heard enough for today," Helena Yaxley said sharply, her voice turning steely, "I would like to exchange a few words with Mister Potter in private."
His private conversation with Helena Yaxley went rather well. Harry elaborated more on his permanent Transfiguration methods while Helena Yaxley was listening intently, seemingly not caring about the Muggle origin of his theories. Throughout their conversation, he even Transfigured a few objects permanently, demonstrated his self-created Core-Enlargement-Spell, which projected an enlarged model of an element's core, and handed her a list of the most essential scientific works on cell biology and chemistry. When the bell rang, Helena Yaxley promised to further investigate his claims. Overall, Harry and Tom called it a successful endeavour.
For the rest of the week, no member of the Committee of Education graced the classes of the Slytherin first years a visit. Despite the lack of visits, Tom and Harry were enjoying the presence of the Committee immensely. According to a group of fifth year Ravenclaws the duo had overheard in the Charms corridor Friday morning; the members of the Committee had not been impressed with the teaching of Charity Burbage. Apparently, the professor of Muggle Studies had struggled to explain the basic use of automobiles, while failing to explain the basic build of the machines altogether. Overall, the Committee had not been impressed. A group of third year Hufflepuffs exchanged a similar story during dinner, this time talking about fax machines. It seemed like Burbage's days were numbered.
The same could be said for Cuthbert Binns. When the first year Slytherins entered the History of Magic classroom on Monday morning for their second class of the day, all members of the Committee of Education were already present. None of them looked incredibly pleased. The reason for their mood became apparent quite quickly. After the ringing of the bell, Binns' usual monotonous lecture on Goblin rebellions began. No surprise there. Despite the presence of the full Committee of Education, most students resorted to their usual pass-time activity to endure Binns' dreadful droning, sleeping. Soon, the sound of quiet snoring mixed with Binns' monotonous lecture, not that the ghost seemed to mind. Even when he was still alive, Binns had failed to realise the reaction of the vast majority of his students towards his 'engaging' lectures.
While most of his peers were catching up on their sleep, Harry on the other hand was much too busy listening to the quiet words exchanged by the members of the Committee.
"Correct me if I am not mistaken," Eleonore Diggory whispered roughly five minutes into Binns' lecture, "but is this not the continuation of the lecture the third years received the period prior?"
"Yes, it is," Saul Croaker chuckled darkly, "Brasstooth the Brutal was appointed leader of the unsuccessful Goblin rebellion in 1612 after the assassination of Gorod the Grim. Therefore, I would agree with your assessment, Eleonore."
"But is this honestly surprising?" Thorfinn Rowle sighed, "we have all experienced his… teaching."
"Not really," Helena Yaxley snorted, "it has been rumoured for years that Binns does not realise when a different class is sitting in front of him. Shockingly, it is true, although it is hardly surprising. No wonder nobody bothers with History anymore."
"This will change," Bartemius Crouch Senior spoke up, his voice underlined by a surprisingly passionate hint of eagerness that managed to wake up quite a few students present, "even if I have to banish the ghost personally."
Harry was impressed, and so was Tom. Even a few days later, the duo could not help but be in awe of the unusual display of passion. Bartemius Crouch Senior never displayed his emotions openly. Never. Not even when his own son had been accused of being a Death Eater, caught, and prosecuted. The unusual display of emotions only manifested that Crouch Senior was taking his job more than seriously, and that he appeared to value the Wizarding tradition, customs, and history more than Tom had first anticipated. What an unexpected development indeed.
As Harry made his way to the usual double Potions class on Friday afternoon, the two recollected the couple of inspections they had witnessed throughout the rest of the week.
On Tuesday, Eleonore Diggory had inspected their Herbology class. Unlike the previous inspections they had witnessed, the class was a rather pleasant one. Since Professor Sprout clearly knew what she was doing, there was nothing to criticise. Instead of engaging in a verbal sparring match like Professor McGonagall and Helena Yaxley had, Eleonore Diggory spent most of the class assisting the students harvesting nettles. Nothing noteworthy.
Nothing noteworthy had happened during the next inspection during Wednesday night's Astronomy class. Much like Professor Sprout, Professor Sinistra was a competent teacher. Her curriculum was very well structured, and her instructions were always precise and easy to understand. Therefore, Helena Yaxley remained mostly quiet during the two hours the first years were mapping out Orion and its neighbouring constellations. Thursday had been void of any inspections.
When Harry and his fellow Slytherins arrived at the Potions classroom, the door was already open. Usually, the door was locked and would only open a minute before the start of the class since the Potions Master did not trust students to be in close proximity with any kind of Potions ingredients unsupervised. The open door certainly piqued Harry's curiosity. He certainly was not disappointed.
Upon entry, his eyes immediately landed on the two Wizards in the room. The usually withdrawn Severus was animatedly chatting with Saul Croaker. Sadly, their conversation stopped the moment the first students had entered the classroom.
Once the last student had taken his seat, not that anyone would ever dare being late to one of Severus' classes, the Potions Master started the lesson immediately. After the assignment that had been due for the day had been collected, Severus briefly quizzed them on the more delicate steps of the Wiggenweld Potion. Once all questions had been answered correctly, the instructions for the Potion appeared on the board with a flick of Severus' wand, and the students were told to start brewing.
Ten minutes later, the classroom was filled with indigo fumes as the students were carefully adding the required amount of Salamander blood while slowly raising the heat. As always, Harry was two steps ahead, already adding his last lionfish spines while also dissolving his finely chopped Dittany.
"Not that there would be any problem with your class, Severus," a quiet voice suddenly cut through the silence of the room, although most students were too occupied by their steaming cauldron to take notice of the silently uttered words, "you have always been brilliant at Potions, your curriculum is expertly structured, theory and practise are reasonably balanced, and your safety measures are more than adequate. There is no one better to teach than you."
"While this is certainly fluttering, you could have been a great Potioneer yourself, Saul," Severus' familiar, yet quiet drawl followed the declaration of the Unspeakable, "you have always been very innovative and unconventional in your approach to the interaction of Potions ingredients. Therefore, I cannot help but wonder, do you still experiment with Potions?"
The scarred face of Saul Croaker contorted into a faint smile, "At times, I do, especially if I do not feel like blowing up my face again."
At that, Severus snorted. The quiet noise was accompanied by a dark chuckle of the Unspeakable, "Trust me, Severus, Potions are a lot safer than Time Magic. Sometimes, I feel like I made the wrong career choices. Sure, my work is interesting and so on, but I would not be stuck with that useless eye."
A dry cough escaped Severus' mouth, "If I may ask, how is your eye, Saul? Is there anything I can do?"
"Maybe at some point, Severus," Croaker replied, before quickly flicking his wand in a succession of complicated movement, no doubt erecting strong Privacy Wards. With Harry's Wandless Parselmagic, it was easy to circumvent the safety measures. Therefore, he quickly caught on to Croaker's next words.
"…to be quite honest with you, although I would certainly appreciate if this was to stay between the two of us, Severus, since I would very much prefer that the rest of the Department were to remain ignorant" the Unspeakable explained in a hushed voice, his words fast, "I have been experimenting to restore the vision in my eye. Sure, they told me not to since the magical backlash might have some unexpected aftereffects, but I simply refuse to live the rest of my life with only one functioning eye."
"How far along are you with your… progress?" Severus' face was unreadable.
"I managed to restore the dark and light perception," Croaker replied, his words underlined by a faint touch of excitement and achievement, "not much if you ask me, but it's a beginning. I might call up on you in the future, Severus. I currently think that Potions will be my best option to reverse the damage done to my eye."
"And the scars?" Severus asked, one eyebrow croaked.
"I do not care about the scars," Croaker said, shrugging his shoulders, "they do not bother me. I only seek to revoke any functional defects. I do not care for aesthetics."
"Hardly surprising," Severus snorted, "you never stroke me as a vain one. What about your other experiments? Do you still work on your less public-friendly ones? The ones you consulted me on?"
"Of course, I do," the Unspeakable chuckled, "as much as you do, Severus. Nothing could ever keep us from our little experiments."
"Not even your accident?" the Potions Master asked, one eyebrow raised critically.
Croaker chuckled, "No, not even the accident. As if I would ever leave one of my projects unfinished."
"Even your experiments on Time Magic?" Severus inquired.
"No chance, Severus, I would never give them up. I am much too curious and progress-driven for that," the Unspeakable answered swiftly, although his tone had turned serious, "although I prefer not to tell my superiors that I resumed my experiments."
Their conversation sadly stopped after that as Romilda Vane had raised her hand, clearly having difficulties with her Wiggenweld Potion. Once the issue had been solved, Severus went on to inspect the lines of fuming cauldrons, stopping a few times to offer advice or critique. He was swiftly joined by Saul Croaker, who, too, began to inspect the bubbling cauldrons, before coming to a halt in front of an especially vibrantly red brew, "Mister Malfoy, I suppose?"
Draco averted his eyes briefly from his cauldron to confirm his identity with a quick nod of his head.
"That is quite an impressive result you have simmering in your cauldron, Mister Malfoy," the Unspeakable commented, "especially considering the amount of time it took you to advance to this particular stage of brewing. I must confess that I am impressed."
"Well, Saul," Severus began, his dark onyx orbs sparkling with glee, "then I must ask you to inspect the cauldron of Mister Potter."
Not allowing the approaching feet to distract himself, Harry continued to carefully dissolve the octopus powder before adding his final drops of boom berry juice. Once the last drop had been added, the Potion began to sizzle and slowly morph into its final, turquoise colour. Reducing the heat, Harry began to stir the Potion in a slow, anti-clockwise movement before allowing the Potion to simmer.
"You have already reached the simmering stage?" Saul Croaker asked incredulously.
"Yes, Mister Croaker," Harry answered lightly, forcing a slight blush to appear on his cheeks at the intense gaze of the Unspeakable, "I deviated from the instructions quite a bit and included steps of the Grand Wiggenweld Potion. It allowed me to finish faster. The deviations also resulted in a more potent Potion without the disadvantage of adding the expensive Potions ingredients the Grand Wiggenweld Potion calls for. Personally, I think it is a nice compromise between the two Potions."
"You let one of your students deviate from the official instructions?" Croaker asked, his scarred eyebrow raised in disbelief, while repeating the same question Professor McGonagall had asked months earlier during the infamous first staff meeting.
"Only if they are fully aware of the consequences of their doings," Severus replied swiftly, "luckily, Mister Potter knows his theory. Thus, I allow him to brew freely."
"Over-confident, nerdy git," a voice, which was unmistakably Weasley's, mumbled after that declaration. Unfortunately, the redhead had failed to lower his voice enough to remain unheard.
Before Severus could react, Saul Croaker's voice already boomed through the classroom, "Ten points from Gryffindor, Mister Weasley, for your unwanted and unnecessary comment."
Harry quickly ducked behind his cauldron to hide his laughter. Merlin, he really loved the inspections conducted by the Committee of Education, and honestly, he could not wait for more. Tom agreed.
They surely were not disappointed. Although the first year Charms inspection on Monday afternoon was a fairly unspectacular affair, rumours quickly started to spread throughout the school about the first Divination inspection that had occurred the same day. According to the Slytherin Keeper Miles Bletchley, the old fraud Trelawney had burst into hysterical sobs as the present members of the Committee, Crouch, Diggory, and Croaker, had questioned her 'unorthodox' teaching methods, clearly not convinced by her fake and outlandish predictions of disaster. While neither Tom nor Harry cared overly much for the Divination position, it would be quite interesting seeing Dumbledore trying to keep the source of the prophecy under his roof with the Committee clearly working against him.
On Thursday, the inspection the duo had been desperately waiting for finally took place.
Upon entering the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, Harry immediately sensed the four magical auras were already present. His eyes immediately landed on Quirrell, who seemed to desperately try to hide his shaking hands behind his desk while nervously chewing his bottom lip. Meanwhile, the stoic figures of Bartemius Crouch Senior, Helena Yaxley, and Thorfinn Rowle were sitting in the back, quietly observing the nervous man.
Once all students had arrived and the bell had signalled the start of the period, Professor Quirrell rose from his desk and quickly set off to instruct the students on the goals of today's class. To the surprise of no one, Quirrell's stutter turned that into an almost impossible endeavour. At the back, the members of the Committee were only shaking their heads. After almost ten minutes, Quirrell had finally managed to convey that today's main goal was to practise Shield Charms and smaller Hexes, Jinxes, and Curses they had learned over the last few months in preparation for the practical part of their exam. Before the students would start though, Quirrell called upon Millicent Bulstrode for a short demonstration. Harry cringed when Quirrell failed to conjure the Shield Charm in time and thus had to dodge the Knockback Jinx. It was pathetic.
Five minutes later, Quirrell had finally recovered from the demonstration , and was finally beginning to assemble the first years into pairs, always consisting of a snake and a lion. Much to his dismay, Harry was partnered with Cory McLaggen. The Gryffindor sneered openly at him, probably more than happy to finally have a 'legal' opportunity to hurt Harry. Unfortunately, Harry had a different plan.
The pairs were quickly ushered to arrange themselves opposite each other, thus forming two long lines. Harry's line was then instructed to Shield themselves from whatever attack the opposite side might perform. His Blackthorn wand easily slipped into his hand, before facing McLaggen. Not bothering with the proper defence posture, he let his Wand arm limply hang by his side and waited. Upon Quirrell's call, the opposite side started to move. Harry easily spotted the furious glint in his opponent's eyes as his magic refused to work. McLaggen was not alone in his struggle. Most Gryffindors bar Hermione had great difficulties with their magic. Unlike the Slytherins and Hermione, they clearly lacked the practise.
After a while, the first beams of magic finally started crossing the room. With each failed attempt, Rory McLaggen seemed to be getting angrier and angrier as he shouted incantation after incantation. After a failed Flipendo, McLaggen tried his luck at the Leg-Locker Curse, screaming, " Locomotor Mortis!"
This time, a purple ray of light escaped McLaggen's wand. With surprising aim, the Curse shot towards Harry, leaving behind a pleased Gryffindor. Internally laughing at the childish antics, a Shield was erected with a lightning-fast and precise flick of his Blackthorn wand, forcing the Curse to ricochet towards its caster. Not expecting the 'counter-attack', McLaggen was hit square in the chest, the force of the rebounded Curse sending him flying a few feet through the air. He connected with the hard floor with an unpleasant crunch that echoed through the entire classroom.
All around them, wands stopped as everyone was staring at the whimpering and defeated Gryffindor, before their eyes moved over to Harry, who was simply standing in line, his wand lowered, clearly in a non threatening posture.
"M…M…Mister P…Potter," Professor Quirrell said, finally regaining control over his solidified limbs, "no… no… a… att… attacks from… yo… your side yet. O… Only…Sh… Shields."
"But Mister Potter did not resort to any sort of Offensive magic," Thorfinn Rowle's deep baritone droned through the classroom as he stepped forward, his steps screaming of precision and decades of combative training, "he merely Shielded himself. If a Shield Charm is cast with enough precision, determination, and magic, it can repel and rebound most attacks. I must confess that your Shield Charm was quite impressive, Mister Potter. Ten points to Slytherin for the impressive display of magic. Would you mind a small demonstration?"
"Certainly not, Mister Rowle," Harry replied, portraying an overeager child to perfection.
A moment later, Thorfinn Rowle had taken over the previous stop of Rory McLaggen and was now directly standing opposite Harry. The wand slipping inside the Death Eater's hand did not escape his eyes.
"Are you ready, Mister Potter?" Thorfinn Rowle asked, trying to hide his own curiosity. Harry was sure that the man would try to test him. The corners of his mouth curled, as he calmly met Rowle's eyes, "Certainly."
For a moment, it seemed like the Duelling instructor would remark on Harry's missing Duelling stance, but Rowle remained quiet, opting to verbally attack instead. Harry's Avada green eyes calmly followed the jet of purple light. With a lazy flick of his wand, a strong Shield was erected, absorbing the Leg-Locker Curse. A Knockback Jinx and a Curse of the Boogies soon followed. Both verbally cast attacks were easily neutralised wordlessly. With each following attack, his opponent looked more impressed, but simultaneously more eager to test Harry. First-year Curses were soon replaced by second- and third-year attacks, the time between the attacks steadily decreasing. Finally, a non-verbally cast red beam of light, a Stunner most likely, was cast with the precision only a veteran fighter could do.
Whereas his previous Shields had been cast with the usual, unfocussed naiveté and lacking precision of a child, the slightly over-powered Shield that appeared in front of him was something else entirely. The vicious, yet calculated counterattack repelled the Stunner, sending it straight back towards its caster. Totally taken by surprise, the only thing Rowle could do was to dodge, narrowly avoiding his own Stunner.
"That was quite an impressive demonstration of defensive magic, Mister Potter," Bartemius Crouch Senior's stern, humourless voice cut through the silence of the classroom following Harry's little magical display, "and wordless at that. I doubt that most of the students taking their NEWTs this year will be able to defend themselves quite like you did. Twenty points to Slytherin. It seems like not all hope is lost when it comes to this class."
"It certainly is not," Helena Yaxley smiled, an expression that somehow felt wrong on her strict face that was usually void of emotions.
This was a very clear statement. Not only about the abysmal instructions of Quirrell but also about the less than stellar teaching of his countless predecessors, as well as Harry's magical power. Even two days later, as he was making his way to Severus' office hidden underneath strong Disillusionment Charms, Crouch Senior's words were ringing in his ears. It seemed like change at Hogwarts was inevitable. Still, now was not the time to think about the silent implication of those words. Today was the night for the second stage of the Resurrection Potion, and it was a delicate one.
"Are you absolutely sure that you want to go through with this shire madness?" Severus asked a few hours later, eyeing the prepared and carefully measured ingredients in front of him sceptically. The required hellebore and dittany had already been added to prepare the Potion for the addition of the next, vital ingredients.
"I am," Harry replied calmly, "I've measured everything myself, and just for your interest, I trust myself. Severus, one last time, there is no turning back. I hope you are prepared for the next step. I certainly am."
Without further ado, Harry grabbed the small, already filled syringe on the table in front of him, expectedly eyeing the conflicted Potions Master. Once Severus had finally grabbed the small vial filled with the exact same substances that were also in the syringe, Harry's eyes moved back to the small clock on the table, waiting for the exact time to conduct the next delicate step of the brewing stage.
At precisely 77 minutes past midnight, Harry rammed the sharp needle of the syringe in his arm. Hearing the sound of a small vial being uncorked and emptied into the large cauldron, he injected himself with the content of the small syringe.
A fraction of a second later, as the substances were starting to move through his veins, a thought occurred in his mind. Maybe, he should not have injected himself with the substances. The Dark Phoenix tears and the Basilisk venom were raging in his veins, fighting for dominance despite having been previously mixed. It was agonising. Curled up into a ball, tightly clutching his knees, retreating deep inside his mind to detach himself from the war that was being forged in his body, he could not help but wonder if Severus might have been right after all. At least, Tom was there to keep him company and distract him.
Luckily, Severus had not been right and a week later, Harry was still among the living, sitting in the Great Hall enjoying his dinner. Much to his relief, the Dark Phoenix tears and the Basilisk venom had settled somewhere around dawn. While he would still feel the occasional tingle of the opposite substances interacting, weakly fighting for dominance, they had mostly calmed down and established a sort of balance, which was a huge relief. Now, the Elixir of Life and the blood of the servant were the only two vital ingredients still missing in the Potion. The former would be added during the third and final major Brewing stage three weeks away.
As Harry looked at the staff table, he could not help but notice how empty the long table felt, now that the inspection of Hogwarts had been completed and the members of the Committee of Education were gone to analyse their findings. Turning his attention back to his curry, he could not help but wonder when the first changes within the staff would be implemented. He knew that the entire Board of Governors had been called up to the Minister to discuss certain changes but the man, according to Lucius, had been rather vague when talking about the time frame those changes would occur.
Before he could think more about the matter, Daphne leaned over, asking him a question about the latest piece of Transfiguration theory they were covering in class. Although Professor McGonagall was still far from pleased to have her teaching methods questioned, she had at least, although rather grudgingly, included some of the theory in her classes. For the remainder of dinner, Harry's attention deviated between his plate and his classmates, explaining the theory behind the Avifors Spell.
Just as he was about to finish his explanation, the doors of the Great Hall were thrown open. All heads at the long house tables and at the staff table turned towards the newcomers. The group was led by Bartemius Crouch Senior and Lucius Malfoy who confidentially strode towards the staff table. They were followed by a group of eight Witches and Wizards, among them Saul Croaker who was the only one, whose face was not obscured in the shadows of a hood. Croaker's presence and the fact that those Witches and Wizards preferred to remain unseen led Harry to the assumption that they were most likely Unspeakables.
The reason for the Unspeakables was revealed fairly quickly, as the Headmaster rose from his chair, "Barty, Lucius, what is the meaning of this?"
"Good evening, Headmaster," Bartemius Crouch Senior replied curtly, his voice void of emotions, "we are here on the Minister's orders. After thorough investigation and analysation, the Minister, the Committee of Education, and the Hogwarts Board of Governors have come to the conclusion that some changes simply cannot wait. Instead, they must be implemented immediately. The first one will be implemented with the newly passed Educational Decree Number 63. The decree states that only teachers who are still alive will be allowed to teach. Therefore, ghosts will be prohibited…"
"But what about Professor Binns?" Dumbledore interrupted the elder Crouch, his eyes void of his trademark twinkle, "what about History of Magic so close to the exams? Who…"
"There is no one worse to teach History of Magic than Cuthbert Binns," Lucius Malfoy's silky voice echoed through the Great Hall, "the data collected by the Committee of Education, the OWL and NEWT score of the last few decades, and the overall disinterest in our history clearly show that. We are here on the orders of the Minister to convince Cuthbert Binns to step down from his position."
"But who is going to teach the class?" the Headmaster asked, having regained some of his confidence and his annoying twinkle, sure, that there was no one for the job, "I cannot and I will not allow to leave the students without a teacher."
"Let me assure you, Headmaster, that we will do everything in our power to find a suiting replacement," Crouch Senior replied calmly, "all forces are currently working on the problem. Of course, you may suggest a fitting candidate. But for now, we are here to talk to Cuthbert Binns. Would you please lead the way?"
Unsurprisingly, the Great Hall erupted into loud speculation once the Headmaster, Crouch Senior, Lucius Malfoy, and the Unspeakables had left.
An hour later, Harry found himself surrounded by the closed hangings of his four-poster bed, his magical map hovering in front of him. Once the entourage had left, he had quickly excused himself from the Slytherin house table and quickly made his way through the dungeons. Although he would not be able to listen to the conversation with Binns, he would not miss this for the world.
So far, it seemed like Binns, the Headmaster, Crouch Senior, Malfoy, and the Unspeakables had only talked. The magic of the map would record any magic cast within the ghost's personal quarters. So far, nothing had been recorded. Thus, Harry moved his attention back to his new Arithmancy manual.
Half an hour later, he felt the magic of the map finally flaring up. The corners of his mouth curled into a sinister smile at the ritual, the map was recording. The Unspeakables had just begun to banish the dreadful ghost.
By Sunday evening, none of the students seemed to be the wiser that their History teacher had been banished. Since Binns rarely interacted with any students outside his classes, his absence remained unnoticed. Still, Harry had the feeling that this would change soon. At the staff table, Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall looked tense as they were quietly conversing with each other. The other teachers, bar Professor Quirrell and Professor Burbage, appeared to be unbothered by the sudden and final departure of their ghostly colleague. As always, Professor Trelawney was absent from the staff table.
Somehow, Harry was not surprised when the doors of the Great Hall were once again thrown open. Still, all around him heads were turning as the entire Committee of Education and the full Board of Governors strode into the Great Hall.
"Good evening, Dumbledore," Crouch Senior, as always impeccably dressed, not a single hair out of place, greeted the Headmaster curtly.
"Good evening, Barty," the Headmaster replied, trying to sound cheerfully, "to what do I owe the honour of such a visit?"
Crouch Senior eyed the Headmaster critically for a fraction of a second, before explaining the reason for the presence of the large group at Hogwarts, "Dumbledore, we are here on the Minister's orders to introduce the new professor for the History of Magic position."
At those words, whispers erupted throughout the entire Great Hall, speculating about the words of Crouch Senior.
Unperturbed by the noise, the head of the Committee of Education continued his speech, "Therefore, we are here…"
"But the Ministry cannot simply name a teacher," Dumbledore interrupted his explanation, "that right is reserved to the Headmaster of Hogwarts alo…"
"Was reserved to the Headmaster," Lucius Malfoy's silky voice cut through Dumbledore's words like fire cut through ice, "last week, Educational Decree Number 64 was passed. The decree specifically allows the Ministry of Magic, more specifically the Minister, the Hogwarts Board of Governors, and the Committee of Education to appoint a teacher should the Headmaster of Hogwarts be unable to fill a vacant position. The decree also allows the replacement of teachers, should they not meet the strict requirements and demands for the position. As a consensus, the Headmaster is still allowed to suggest his or her own candidates as long as they are better qualified than the choice of the Ministry. Dumbledore, I cannot help but be curious, did you manage to produce a candidate for the History of Magic position?"
For a moment, the old goat seemed to be taken by surprise, before he finally answered, "Lucius, three days are hardly enough time to find a fitting replacement. I must ask for more time."
"Sadly, that is unacceptable," the Lord of the Malfoy family proclaimed, trying very hard to hide his amusement over the situation, "we simply cannot afford leaving the students without a proper teacher until you have found a replacement. Therefore, the Ministry will make use of the Educational Decree Number 64 until you, Dumbledore, have found a better candidate. Until then, it is my honour to introduce the new History of Magic professor, Bridget Hawthorne."
Dumbledore's jaw dropped as one of his biggest adversaries strode into the Great Hall, a wide smirk etched on her pale face, her equally pale eyes sparkling with glee, "Good evening, Headmaster. I am looking forward to teaching at Hogwarts."