Chapter 5 – Snape, Binns, Foley
Scott awoke early the following morning, drawing back the blue curtains that hid the rest of his dorm. The room was smaller than he was used to, able to accommodate only two, and the shelves, dresser, beds, and two small desks gave little in the way of space. Still, it was cosy, and Scott appreciated it all the same. Ravenclaw dorms, he knew, had been two-a-room since the very founding of Hogwarts.
Legends of the founders said that Rowena Ravenclaw had been particularly fierce about the exception, pointing out that cramming a group of scholarly minded eccentrics into a small space together for several years, and expecting them to be okay with it, was like asking a Niffler to forgo its search for gold. In the end, they had settled for two to a room.
Scott scooped up his walkman, watching it curiously. He still hadn't quite worked out what was going on with it. It seemed to be functioning a little too well, which unnerved him. He'd read that magic pollution severely affected Muggle artefacts that used technology alien to wizards. Radio waves, microwaves, and electricity were the primary victims, so it didn't follow that his walkman seemed to be in perfect health. Stranger still was that he hadn't been woken to any sort of alarm. Instead, the angelic voice of George Michael had emanated from the device in his hand.
"Wake me up, before you go-go,
Don't leave me hanging on like a yo-yo
Wake me up, before you go-go,
I don't want to miss it when you hit that high."
The music that repeatedly emanated seemed all too apropos, and Scott considered whether the enchantment his mother had placed on it had anything to do with it. He changed into exercise tracksuit and left the dorm, his walkman clipped to his waist, and his headphones firmly lodged in his ears.
Meanwhile, many floors down, an eerie green light illuminated a small boy. The sun was beginning to rise, and its light had punctured the lakewater and into the first year Slytherin dorm that Emile Pellon sat at, gazing out the window at the endless murk beyond. It was his birthday, he knew, but that fact didn't register as all that important to him.
Emile looked down at the photograph that he had clutched in his hand. A young boy and a pair of adults were prominent in the picture, but at present, Emile gazed at the small baby that was swaddled in a blanket, held in the woman's arms. He looked with hatred and resentment at the infant, though in his heart he knew his feelings were entirely irrational.
One of his housemates grunted in his sleep, and Emile quickly stowed the photo into his robes. He continued to gaze out into the gloomy abyss the stretched out before him, both hands tucked into his pockets. Through the greenish haze, he could have sworn that he saw something enormous and many-limbed move in the dark.
Scott gazed into the lake. He'd jogged a half-lap around its expanse when he'd noticed something on the surface. A mass of bubbles and ripples had disturbed the lake's surface, near to the very centre. After a few moments of silence (even the walkman had stopped playing), a few stray tentacles rose eerily from the black sheen. A horrible sickly feeling arose in Scott's stomach, and he quickly turned away from the disturbing sight, shuddering. He'd never liked deep water, partially for reasons that he'd just witnessed.
As though attempting to distract him, his walkman quickly started up a particularly energetic rock song, and he resumed his running, putting deep sea monsters far from his mind.
By the time that he'd finished, breakfast was being served in the Great Hall. He made his way back through the front doors and saw someone that he thought looked familiar walking down the marble staircase opposite. It was a pretty girl with blonde hair that he'd only spotted once before, and only for a few moments. He rushed forward to meet her.
"Alex?" he asked.
She flinched, having been focused on making her way quickly to the Great Hall. She looked at Scott, her eyes apprehensive, her face lined with anxiety. Scott had the impression that she'd come down for breakfast early to avoid the rush of people.
"You alright?" he queried, smiling at her.
"I... Yes. I'm fine," she said, letting out a gust of breath, though it seemed as though she'd let go of more than air.
"Well, then, come on," he said, indicating his head to the great Hall. "I'm starving."
They ate their breakfast in companionable silence, though eventually Ethan came down. He glanced over Alex, not really noticing her, before looking at Scott's clothing.
"Up at the crack of dawn for physical torture, as I suspected. You, my friend, need to see a shrink about that problem you've got," he said archly, falling ungracefully onto the bench beside him.
"Who'd you end up dorming with, then?" Scott asked curiously.
"Haworth," he said simply.
Scott raised an eyebrow. "Really? How was he?"
"Er, well, I didn't really ask -"
He rolled his eyes. "No, you tosser. I mean; what was he like?"
"Quiet. I don't know if he slept much."
Scott didn't doubt it, considering Ethan's window-rattling snores. He watched as his bespectacled friend scooped up a stack of bacon, eggs, and sausages, and promptly stuffed it down the front of his robes. A grateful chirp and the sound of noisy munching greeted this action. Edgecombe glanced over at the noise, looking revolted.
Scott grinned. "Cyril doing alright?"
Whatever Ethan was about to reply with was cut off as about a hundred owls swooped into the Great Hall. Scott felt a small twinge of disappointment when he didn't see the distinctive form of the handsome eagle-owl, Merlin, among them.
The previous night, he'd discovered the family owl perched outside his window. After opening the window, and inviting the nocturnal bird inside, he'd promptly written to his parents and sister. He'd been hoping for a response, especially from his father, who he knew would have the answers to a question of his.
Hey Mum, Dad, and Lindy, he'd written,
I suppose I should end your suspense as soon as I can - I don't want a Howler in the mail as revenge! I hope you'll be happy to hear that I got Ravenclaw, and it was a dead cert. Ethan got Ravenclaw, too. No big surprise there. I have to say, I wasn't really expecting the way the Sorting happens, but I suppose I should have realised from the clues. Good luck on that, by the way, Lindy - you might need it!
I'm already missing you all, but I'll power through it, of course. Interestingly enough, I might have something to tide me over; it turns out that I ended up packing my walkman by accident! Instead of breaking, though, it seems to be working better than ever! So I was wondering - Dad, do you have any idea what sort of effect the stray arcana of Hogwarts could have on an enchanted Muggle object? Hope to get a comprehensive response!
I've made another friend, too, by the name of Alex. Mum, you might recognise them as the person I bowled over at the Leaky Cauldron. They're an interesting sort, and I've got my suspicions, but I don't want to pry too much. I guess I really can have some tact!
Anyway, love you all, and see you in a few months!
Scott
He glanced down at his walkman, considering. He was being silly expecting a response so soon after sending his letter. Merlin was a good owl, but he wasn't a machine, nor could he apparate. He looked at Ethan and Alex. "I'm going to run up to Ravenclaw Tower, have a quick shower, and get changed. Could someone get my timetable for me while I'm gone?"
Ethan looked up from the baked beans-laden plate he was shovelling food from, swallowing thickly. "Sure. While you're up there, make sure to give Alex a kick. He'll miss breakfast if he's not quick!"
Scott looked at him as though he were stupid. "You unobservant wank -"
He was suddenly interrupted by a sharp kick to his shin. He looked up at Alex, raising an eyebrow. She shook her head imperceptibly.
"Er, yeah, I'll see if he's there?" Scott said, recovering rather poorly.
Ethan seemed none the wiser, and went back to eating, apparently clueless as to the identity of the girl sitting opposite him. Scott promptly stood and exited the Great Hall, passing the Slytherin and Hufflepuff tables along the way. Sensing a stare, he glanced over and found the dark eyes of Skeres boring into him. He ignored her malice-filled gaze and continued on out of the Hall, up the marble staircase, and up to where the common room was.
When he eventually returned, dressed in full uniform, he found Ethan waiting for him in the Entrance Hall. He handed Scott a small sheet of paper.
"Double Potions is first today. That's with Professor Snape down in the dungeons."
They glanced over to where they'd seen Slytherins descend and emerge from, an opening beside the marble staircase. Scott looked down at the timetable he'd been handed and saw that the class was shared, most unfortunately, with Slytherin House.
"Shit," Scott muttered.
"Er, what's between you and the Slytherins, anyway? I forgot to ask last night."
They set off for the Potions classroom. Scott thought about the question. "I dunno about the rest of the house, but at least two of them are rotten. I met them on the train, before I found you."
They walked down the dingy stone corridor, counting the numbers over doors as they passed, trying to find the correct chamber.
"What'd they do?"
"Kept saying... well, the M-Word."
"Ah," Ethan said grimly. They'd found the correct classroom at last, and stepped inside.
The classroom was dark, and had an oppressive, gloomy feel to it. Desks sat arranged about the room, and cauldrons were already out.
"You are late. A point from Ravenclaw each."
The voice was drawling and snide. Scott could see a man with lank, dark hair standing off from a desk, near to a blackboard. This must be Professor Snape. The weight of the man's words seemed to set in for Scott, and he suddenly realised that he'd already lost Ravenclaw points on his very first day. Anger and guilt surged through him uncomfortably as Snape raised an eyebrow.
"Perhaps I should have been clearer," he said. "Sit down, or I will take yet more points."
They rushed to do so, moving over to where the Ravenclaws were seated. He could see Skeres shaking, no doubt attempting to repress that distinctive shriek of laughter. When they reached the Ravenclaw side, however, they found that there were no free spaces to sit. Alex had found herself next to Haworth, Carmichael by Belby, Bobbin by Fawcett, and Chang by Edgecombe. Scott considered dragging over a table from the Slytherin side, but decided against it.
"Dear, dear. And they say Ravenclaws are known for their intelligence," Snape said softly. He was having far too much fun. "The two of you, sit over there," he said sharply, pointing at, to Scott's dread, a desk beside Skeres and Pellon. They shuffled awkwardly over and sat, Scott putting himself between Skeres and Ethan defensively. She looked somewhat displeased to be finding herself seated beside him, however, though this only cheered him up marginally.
"I presume you two dunderheads are Carter and Croaker?" Snape asked in a bored voice, to which they replied with muttered 'yes, sirs'. When he'd ticked their names on the register, he looked back up at the class. "Very well. Now that we are no longer being disrupted, we may continue with the lesson. I warn you that in this class you will find that there is little foolish wand-waving involved. You shall rely on your wits, your ability to memorise, and your attention to detail.
"I can teach you how to capture the very essence of victory in a flask, or distil the most potent poison. You may learn how to titillate with a tincture, to store violence in a vial, to extend life with an elixir. At least, some of you might. Others..." He left the sentence hanging, giving a nasty glance in Scott and Ethan's direction.
They spent the next thirty minutes going over proper brewing safety and etiquette, ending with Snape launching a rapid-fire questionnaire at the class.
"Urquhart, what do you do if your gloves begin melting?"
"Er, remove them carefully and make sure you use a new pair, sir?"
"Belby, your cauldron fire has spat sparks onto your robes, what will you do?"
"Wh-what!? Where?"
"A point from Ravenclaw, Belby! You use the emergency extinguisher, or else have someone more competent do it for you!"
After the class was properly prepared, they were set the task of brewing a demonstration potion whilst following the precise instructions laid out in their textbooks and on the blackboard. There was one small setback, however.
"Croaker, Carter. I can hardly trust you to find your seats, let alone your potion ingredients. Croaker, partner with Pellon. Carter, with Skeres."
Scott and Skeres turned to look at each other, horrorstruck.
"Quickly, now! Your Cure for Boils won't brew itself."
When they had settled at a table on their own, and Ethan next to Pellon at another, Scott went about angrily dumping the needed ingredients from his potion kit onto the desk.
"Careful with the horned slugs, Carter," Skeres muttered edgily.
"I am being careful," he said through gritted teeth.
"No you're not - you're blundering around like an idiot."
"I do not blunder!"
"Those porcupine quills would disagree," she said, smirking at the bent spikes he'd been crushing in his anger.
He swore softly. "Give us yours then," he said, pointing at her potion kit.
"Give up my perfectly nice, non-crushed quills? No thanks, I'd rather not have a big clumsy idiot ruin them, if you please."
He decided to ignore her taunt this time. If this continued, it would draw Snape's attention, and in the forty minutes that he'd known the man, he didn't expect him to take his side.
He breathed in, then out. He tried again. "Skeres, if you use your quills today, I'll give you the knuts to get some new ones."
This seemed to pique her interest. "Surprisingly shrewd, Carter," she said, smirking slightly. "Fine, I'll be holding you to that."
They continued to brew their potion together, only occasionally making digs at each other from that point. When it came time to add the crushed snake fangs:
"Try not to burn yourself, Carter."
"Aw, that's so sweet," he replied simperingly.
And when it came time to remove the cauldron from the fire and add the quills:
"Sure you can reach, Skeres?"
"I don't need to reach high to spill this somewhere you really don't want it spilled, Carter."
Occasionally, Scott would make checks on Ethan and how he was faring with Pellon. They seemed to be working in relative silence, which Scott thought boded well. Ethan's potion was looking rather impressive, as a matter of fact, far closer to the vibrant azure sheen described on the board than the dark blue liquid bubbling in his own cauldron.
Eventually, Snape called for an end to their brewing. "You should each have concocted an adequate Cure for Boils by now. Shall we see how you actually fared?"
He passed by the Ravenclaws, making only an occasional snide comment. The Slytherins had apparently performed quite well, at least by Snape's reckoning. He commended Ethan and Pellon's potion, and then finally came to Scott and Skeres'.
"Dark blue? Tut, tut, Carter, dragging down Ms Skeres with your incompetence."
Scott felt incensed by the comment, but didn't dare reply with backtalk. Skeres didn't laugh, luckily, though that was likely because she felt humiliated by her own failure.
After they had filed out of the classroom, they went off to their morning break. For some reason, Alex didn't join them, though Scott saw her chatting with Bobbin and Fawcett as they made their way to the front doors of the Entrance Hall.
"Well, er, Snape's not the nicest man, is he?" Ethan said, glancing nervously at the four enormous hourglasses that lined the wall where the front doors stood. There were only a few dozen in each glass, but Ravenclaw seemed to have just as many as Hufflepuff, in equal last.
"That's an understatement," Scott muttered. "What's next?"
"I think History of Magic. I'm just going to let Cyril out for a bit, and then we can go find the classroom. I don't want to be late again."
They entertained themselves by watching the frog-monkey climb a beech tree by the lake, though Scott ended up having to intervene when it caught sight of a bird's nest.
"Oh come on, it's nature taking its course!" Ethan cried.
"Oh it's taking a course, alright!" Scott said, as he hung precariously from a tree branch several feet in the air. "Its main course, with a side of eggs!"
He eventually managed to drag the creature down from the tree, depositing it into Ethan's waiting arms. They set off then, heading for the History of Magic classroom, which was on the first floor. The subject was the one that Scott thought he might have been most excited for. He'd read many books on Magical History before, and visited some ancient ruins around Yorkshire, but he knew that there was still plenty more to learn about the subject.
"So why didn't Alex show up for class, today?" Ethan cut into Scott's musings.
"Oh, er..." he stuttered. He would have told Ethan then and there what was actually going on, but Alex had seemingly taken a stand against it at breakfast. "Well, he was a bit sick. I think he ate a little too much at the feast last night."
Ethan seemed to readily accept this excuse, massaging his stomach appreciatively. "I know, right? I felt like I was going to explode, to be honest."
They managed to find the correct classroom just as the bell chimed over the school. They walked inside and took seats. When the rest of the class, which included the Hufflepuffs, had all sat down, they waited patiently for the teacher to arrive.
After about a minute of idle chatter between the students, they suddenly heard a piercing scream. Edgecombe was pointing at the blackboard where a transparent figure had just emerged. Ghosts were hardly a rare occurrence at Hogwarts, they'd been at the feast the night before after all, though seeing one emerge in class was somewhat unexpected.
"Settle down, please," the ghost said, hovering over to the teacher's desk and sitting down.
He looked somewhat like an ancient anthropomorphic tortoise with spectacles. He didn't seem particularly bothered by the shriek of surprise that had greeted his entrance, and quickly proceeded to set about marking the roll in a droning, wheezy voice. He had barely reached the end of the attendance register and already half the class seemed utterly bored. Once he had finished, he looked up.
"My name is Professor Binns. I will be teaching you History of Magic here at Hogwarts for as long as you end up taking the subject. Please ensure that your inkwells are full and your quills ready. Today I shall be lecturing you on the Uprising of Emeric the Evil. Emeric the Evil was a noted Dark Wizard who terrorised..."
Binns spoke in a voice that scarcely changed in tone or volume. He placed not an ounce of emphasis on any particular event, date, or name. The subject matter, of course, was utterly fascinating to Scott. He'd already read up on Emeric's reign of terror in the late twelfth century, and how he'd enslaved an armada of Common Welsh Green dragons through the use of Dark Magic. Unfortunately, Scott's classmates seemed to not find the subject nearly as engaging as he did. Binns' tones (or tone, for a plurality would be false) induced a torpor in the class that had managed to drive a few of his classmates to a light doze.
Whilst Scott was uniquely capable of diligently maintaining total concentration, that wasn't to say no one else tried. A few Hufflepuffs, whenever their heads started nodding, quickly started, shook their heads, and wrote down part of whatever sentence they'd heard Binns wheeze out. To the Ravenclaws' credit, they were faring better than the Hufflepuffs, but the sheer tranquilising aura that Binns gave off could not keep them engaged for long.
When they eventually left the classroom, a few of Scott's classmates began to mutter amongst themselves. "Bunch of tripe, frankly," said a dark-skinned boy he thought was called Stebbins. "Don't know why we learn it."
Scott felt like arguing, but realised that it would be no use. There was no way he could convince someone that the class environment they'd just emerged from was conducive to any sort of learning. Scott already practically knew most of the information that Binns had spoken at them, and so he shuffled off to his next period, thoroughly disheartened.
Next, they had a session on Diction and Essaycraft that stepped them through how to write assignments, and use satisfactory wording in the work. After the attendance register was taken, they were informed that this class wouldn't be examined at the end of the year. A little middle-aged witch hosted this lesson, and they were thoroughly tired by the time lunch began forty-five minutes later.
"So what's up next?" Scott asked Ethan, loading up on watermelon and grapes.
"Defence Against the Dark Arts," he replied, sipping from a goblet of water.
In the absence of the intrigue that he'd expected from History of Magic, Scott's next hope lay in Defence class. When they eventually set off for the classroom, located on the third floor, they merged with the Gryffindors that were headed in the same direction.
"Hey," Katie Bell said to him, smiling.
"How's it going so far?" Scott replied, answering her smile with one of his own.
"Pretty good, we had Transfiguration and Herbology this morning. McGonagall's strict but knows her stuff, and Sprout's friendly. You?"
"We had Snape first thing. Not much fun there. And History of Magic wasn't what I'd hoped it'd be."
"Ah well," she said sympathetically. "Hopefully Professor Foley's a bit better, eh?"
They reached their destination at the exact same moment that their teacher arrived. "Come on in, then!" he said, gesturing for them to follow as he entered the classroom first. When they'd sat at a desk each, Foley turned to face them, still standing, his hands in his pockets. He watched them all with a smile on his face, his messy hair hanging about his eyes.
"I won't take the roll today. I can see you're all already here. Now, in case it's managed to slip your mind, the name's Professor Michael Foley. Professor Dumbledore's hired me for the year while I do some work around the castle. I'm a researcher, you see. An archaeologist," he said.
Scott sat up straighter in his chair, gazing at the man, suddenly several times more interested than he had been.
"Can anyone tell me what an archaeologist is, precisely?" Foley asked. Scott launched his arm into the air, but someone else beat him there. "Yes, and your name is?"
"McClaggen," said the wiry haired boy from the previous night, a Glaswegian accent apparent. "Is that like a Curse-Breaker?"
Foley watched McLaggen impassively for a moment, apparently considering something. "I can forgive you for construing the two, however, I must insist that you know the difference. Curse-Breakers are primarily occupied with the destruction and deactivation of magic considered dangerous. They are often utilised in the, er..." he seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, "acquiring of ancient valuables to hand off to prospective customers. My occupation, however, is the scientific and scholarly analysis of history through the signs that were left behind, usually by accident.
"However, much like a Curse-Breaker, I have had more than my fair share of dangerous encounters. Ancient wizards had a tendency to leave behind volatile magic in their wake, sometimes on purpose, other times through negligence. And it is this experience that allows me to teach you what I know, so that you can be prepared for a world of potential dangers. I tell you this not to scare you, but to ready you.
"Expecto Patronum!" he cried, brandishing his wand suddenly. They all jumped as something enormous burst from his wand, something bright silver and four-legged. Scott had the impression that he had summoned a horse, but upon closer inspection he saw that it looked practically skeletal, and enormous bat-like wings unfolded from its body. The great emaciated horse-thing took flight, pushing itself up into the air above the desks. It soared across the classroom, over their heads, its gleaming body illuminating them strangely. Ethan gave a great shriek of excitement as it glided past.
It came to a stop beside Professor Foley, cantering slightly as it landed. He reached out a hand, as though he were about to stroke its mane, but it dissipated into silvery vapour as he touched it.
"A Patronus," he said to the awed class. "That was a demonstration of one of the most complex spells for defending against the Dark Arts, powerful enough to banish foul creatures like Dementors." The class seemed to ripple with shudders at the mention of the dark creatures. "But the Patronus Charm is still a far off prospect for any of you. I believe you haven't been instructed on Magical Theory yet?"
They shook their heads.
"No matter. Today we'll begin discussing Dark creatures. If you could open your copies of 'The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self Protection' to page twelve, we can begin work on studying the zombie. Now, the zombie can be..."
Their lesson continued on for another forty minutes, the end of which had seen great success for Scott. He thought he'd suitably impressed Professor Foley when he'd correctly answered what the difference between the intelligence levels of certain varieties of undead, and even demonstrated extensive knowledge of inferi, a subject matter well beyond the first year. Foley had also given points for Scott's apt question on Haitian religious rituals, which he had eagerly answered in depth.
Scott lagged behind after the bell signalled the end of the class, preparing to speak with Foley. He wanted to know what the work he was doing around the castle was, but before he could approach, Ethan called from the door.
"C'mon Scott! We've got Magic Theory!"
Scott held his finger up for silence. "Hold on a moment, Ethan, I've just got to -"
"I don't want to be late for another class today!"
Scott sighed as he turned to head back out. A group of second years began entering the room, and he found himself having to push past them in order to get out. He collided with a red-haired boy who snarled, "Watch it, firstie!"
He briefly considered replying with a firm shove, especially since the boy in question was several inches shorter than him, but reconsidered, dodging around the boy's twin brother.
He left the room with mixed bag of feelings. On one hand, he'd managed to regain the points lost that morning, but now he wasn't sure how long it'd be until he managed to talk to Foley again. He desperately wanted to learn what the man was doing, but didn't know what time was best to do it. He looked up to see Alex hurrying off with the other girls at the end of the corridor, and his emotional state landed on frustration. She'd seemingly avoided him and Ethan all day and it was starting to concern him. He resolved to question her later that night before they went to bed.