A reworked repost of 'A Lesson In Howlers'.
I wasn't going to mess with anything big, but then the plot bunnies demanded changes and I got a bit carried away. The story of my stories.
Professor McGonagall stood in front of her third-year transfiguration class, a piece of parchment in one hand and a red envelope in her other. It was going to be an interesting lesson.
"Settle down, settle down," she said when they had started talking amongst themselves. "Today, we will be learning about the complex magic involved in the creation of Howlers. Before I do, can anyone tell me anything about them?"
As usual, Hermione Granger's hand shot into the air, but the class was disturbed by the sight of Ron Weasley's hand also waving about.
"Mr Weasley? Do you know anything about Howlers?" Professor McGonagall asked, somewhat shocked that a student other than Hermione was volunteering information. Weasley had never shown an aptitude for Transfiguration, and according to her memory, he'd never once raised his hand in all the year she'd taught him. Miracles were possible.
"I'll bet he knows a fair bit about them," Draco Malfoy sniggered, not even attempting to be subtle.
"What was that Mr Malfoy?" she asked, unamused by the handful twittering Slytherins.
"Nothing Professor," he said, smirking.
"Are you sure, Mr Malfoy?" she queried, her tone holding no room for any 'funny business'.
Knowing his place, Draco's smirk was replaced with a tight smile. "Yes, Professor," he respectfully replied.
"Very well then. As I was saying, Mr Weasley, what can you tell me about Howlers?"
"I know they can be very loud," Ron started, unsure of himself, "When the receiver opens it, the sender's voice is magically magnified so everyone around the receiver can hear it. A sort of megaphone effect. Then when the Howler has finished, it usually destroys itself – ripping itself into pieces. If it isn't opened in time or if someone refuses to open it, then it explodes, and the decibel level of the message increases."
As she'd aged, Minerva McGonagall found that not many things could shock her anymore. Apparently, she was wrong. The boy had given her something close to an answer she usually got from Miss Granger.
Thanks to student gossip, Minerva had heard of the Howler incident in his last year, but she had assumed Howlers were rare occasions for this particularly Weasley. Whilst she loved Molly and Arthur dearly, she couldn't help but acknowledge that Ron wasn't the brightest of the Weasley's, especially when it came to Transfiguration and Charms. However, perhaps she wasn't giving the boy enough credit.
"Professor?" Miss Granger asked, rousing Minerva from her musings.
"Yes dear, I'm fine. Ten points to Gryffindor Mr Weasley for that answer." Minerva looked at Mr Weasley and saw Mr Potter clapping him on the back. Good for him, she thought. The boy deserved some form of academic praise.
When it came to the lesson's practical portion, she had decided to let the class make their own Howler. Then she would allow one student to test theirs to see if anything had been learnt. This was purely for her own entertainment. After so many years of teaching the same thing in Transfiguration, the lessons became almost arduous at times, and she had decided last night she needed to 'spice things up'.
After demonstrating the charm needed to activate the Howler, Minerva watched their attempts from a place of relative safety behind her desk. With Mr Finnigan and Miss Bulstrode in the class, she knew better than to trust her protective wards to keep the chaos contained.
"Don't forget to write a message," Minerva reminded them all. She'd spotted a few Gryffindor's getting a bit too overenthusiastic at the back of the room. "A Howler without a message will simply howl until it's blown up."
Once the class had completed their practical – with a few near-disasters, Minerva decided it was time to have some fun.
"Mr Weasley," she said, her Scottish brogue becoming more pronounced as her excitement grew. "Since you gave us such a splendid explanation, let's see what you've managed to do, shall we?"
"Umm, yes, Professor?" he said, grinning at Mr Potter for reasons unknown to her.
"Who is your Howler for?" she asked.
"Draco Malfoy," Ron said, attempting to look innocent.
"Very well then," Minerva said, fighting to keep a smile off her face. "When you're ready."
It wasn't proper for a teacher to take pleasure in another's discomfort even though that was technically what she had designed this lesson for. Very hypocritical of her, but at the moment, she really didn't care.
As Mr Weasley got up to deliver Mr Malfoy the Howler, Minerva could have sworn she saw the latter blanch. That was impossible, she thought. Malfoys were taught to have a stiff upper lip in all situations. She shook her head, clearly, she was seeing things. Minerva saw the Howler start to hiss as soon as Mr Weasley ran back to his seat.
"Mr Malfoy, you've got mail." It was petty of her, but she couldn't resist.
The boy opened the Howler with a slight tremble to his hands. As the wax seal broke, the youngest male Weasley's voice reverberated around the classroom.
"Oi Malfoy, what can I say? Without a doubt, you are one of the most egotistical, vain, self-absorbed, pompous peacocks that I have had the displeasure of meeting. But I love you! I do Draco. I want the whole world to know. And don't worry I won't tell everyone that you have a crush on Hermione, but I know for a fact that Hermione wants to have your babies-"
Before the Howler could finish, singed bits of red and white parchment littered Draco Malfoy's desk. He held his wand in his hand and barely moved. Minerva would have sworn up and down he'd turned into a statue, were it not for the steady rise and fall of his chest.
Mr Malfoy had blown the Howler to smithereens.
The class went into shock before it her. It seemed they weren't sure if what they had just heard was real or not. As if waiting for a cue, once Minerva started to chuckle, the class burst out laughing.
"Mr Weasley," she started, before another bout of laughter bubbled up and she'd had to pause. "Mr Weasley, what an interesting Howler. Five points to Gryffindor for creativity," she managed, the odd chuckle still escaping her lips.
After that, the rest of the class passed without any further interruptions. Minerva had asked the standard set of questions in regard to Howlers, and Miss Granger answered all of them. Minerva really did love the girl and enjoyed that her enthusiasm for knowledge surpassed anyone else. Still, she wished that someone else would volunteer an answer occasionally, someone like Potter, Weasley or even Draco Malfoy.
After class had finished, Minerva asked Mr Weasley to stay behind. Once the room was empty, he had grudgingly made his way up to her desk. If she'd forgotten to destroy a classroom full of Howlers as the children left - as was usually her practice, well, she was getting old.
"Mr Weasley," she began, "you do realise that from now on, I expect you to answer more questions in class with as much detail as you did today."
"Umm yes, Professor. The truth is, I only know that stuff because it happened to other members of the family" he said, thinking on his feet – he couldn't really admit that he'd learnt how to make Howlers to prank Percy, "otherwise I wouldn't have been able to answer any of that stuff."
Softening her features, she once again cursed Albus for the restrictive teaching methods they'd been put under. "That's how some people learn, Ron. It's why I always have a practical component to my class. Though, it is a darn shame that we can't repeat that particular type of practical, though," she said, smiling ruefully.
"Yes, Professor," he said, nodding along.
Sensing this wasn't the type of conversation he was used to, she tried again, "Just try your best, that's all I ask. If you learn best with a hands-on demonstration, I'm sure Miss Granger would be willing to help you study. You did well today."
"Yes, Professor," he said, getting uncomfortable at being praised by a teacher. They usually told him off for falling asleep in class. "May I go now? Otherwise, I'm going to lose all the points I earned today by turning up late to Professor Snape's lesson."
"Of course, wouldn't want to be late for Severus. Make sure to tell your friends to keep their Howlers to themselves," she said, dismissing him with a wave of her hand.
Whilst a little mischief was fun, she didn't have a death wish. The last time she'd 'accidentally' pranked Severus he'd somehow managed to spray a catnip laced solution all over her outer robes. It was impressive considering she never took them off outside of her rooms. Nothing she'd done had removed it and Severus had claimed innocence.
Once Mr Weasley left the confines of her classroom, Minerva heard him meet up with his regular partners in crime.
"Did you see McGonagall? I thought she was going to pass out from shock when I answered the question correctly! Thanks for the inspiration, Hermione, I'll have to do it more often. Maybe next time I'll get a free pass on lesson homework."
He sounded far too enthused at the idea, she mused.
"That's apparently what friends are for Ron," Miss Granger muttered, and Minerva could hear that she was busy rummaging around in her school bag. She'd thought Miss Granger was close to Mr Weasley, perhaps she'd been mistaken.
"What are friends for? Copying homework?" Mr Weasley replied cheekily. Maybe she'd have to have other words with him soon.
"Come on guys," Mr Potter said, interrupting their banter, "otherwise we'll be late for Potions, and I can't afford to get another detention from him."
"But Harry," Minerva only just caught Hermione's mumble, "we've only just come back?"
"That's what I mean, Hermione," Mr Potter replied.
Minerva heard the sound of school shoes breaking into a run. "Come on. The last one there has to set off their Howler in Snape's lesson!" Mr Potter yelled, his voice disappearing down the corner.
Oh, to be young, foolish and brave. If a Howler was activated in Severus' lesson, then at least the gossip would be good. And technically, Minerva had warned them.
She'd better hide her good robes.
Oops? Minerva really did mean to destroy their Howlers, promise.