Dear Mum and Da,
Hogwarts is splendid. I've learnt to drive a broomstick like the witch on the Halloween greeting cards and we all make quite a picture squawking about the sky. The girls in my dormitory are quite chummy with me, especially Lotty and Eve. Can I have an owl for my birthday? Love to you both,
Maura
Maura waited in line for a school owl with Maglie Cuzco, a second year Ravenclaw. Upon discovering their shared affinity for numbers, the older girl warmed up to Maura, and walked with her back to the main hall after their respective letters had been shipped off.
"Next year," Maglie confided, "you have the option of taking Arithmancy, which is quite like our arithmetic back in the Muggle world."
Maura smiled at this, looking forwards to embracing the familiarity of numbers, then asked, "Is it difficult, because we're Muggles and all? I've heard some rather sorry remarks on this, and I was wondering—"
"Nonsense," Maglie interrupted, "we can succeed just as well as these hoity-toity wizard folk. They haven't got the edge on us as much as they think they do. Most of them are quite nice about it, anyway. You just have to watch out for the bad-blooded ones. Besides, keep a good head about you and they won't even realize you're a Mudblood."
"Isn't that an insult?" Maura asked, confused. When that word was hurled at Lotty, Keith had leapt to her defense, yet here was Maglie, a fellow Muggle-born, lightly tossing about the same slur.
"Only if you believe in it. Don't worry about it."
After falling through the second stair on the west corridor staircase and finding herself on the first and one half floor, Maura barely got to her first class of the day on time. Luckily she'd found Liandra, on a free period, who'd given her directions back to the second floor. Elsewise, Maura reasoned, she would have been stuck between the first and second floors forever.
"Miss Matthews?" Professor Corvus inquired dryly.
"Sir?"
"Take a seat in the back with Mr. Stanford. I entrust you will not be so nearly late again." The aging professor turned his beady eyes towards his notes on the podium, effectively preventing Maura from launching into her story. She slid into the uncomfortable, gothic chair next to Jonathan and waited a half second before asking quietly of him what class this was.
"Defense Against the Dark Arts," he whispered back, "it's a new mandatory course. My sister never took it. It'll likely turn out to be quite useless."
"On the contrary, Mr. Stanford." Maura was not sure if the crook-nosed professor had spoken. His eyes were still skimming the notes, but the raspy voice was unmistakably his. After a pregnant silence, he looked up and gazed straight at Jonathan. "I think, judging by recent events, you will find these lessons more beneficial then any other you will learn." He held his ebony stare a few moments longer, then snapped back to the rest of the class. " 'Drang nach Ostern' what does that mean? Ms. Hathaway."
"It's German, sir. Something towards east." Eve offered hesitantly.
"Correct," Corvus snapped, "Five points to Gryffindor. It means 'Drive towards the East'. What importance does this have?" The classroom was silent for a long minute.
"Fools!" Professor Corvus half-cackled, half-screamed, leaping onto his nearby desk. The first-year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs leaned back in their chairs, anxious to get away from the mad eyes of Corvus. He was perched on all fours on the table, tilting his head and spitting as he spoke. "Fools! What happened in Morocco in 1905?" He swayed around, rocking the desk dreadfully, looking for someone to answer his question. "How about you, Mr. Timmid?"
The frightened Hufflepuff whimpered when their obviously insane instructor turned his wild, red-flecked eyes on him. "Sir, nothing in the wizard world, but the Muggles…there was a revolution, I think—"
"You THINK?" roared Corvus, soaring off his desk and alighting in front of quavering Mark Timmid. "Your life is at stake and you only THINK you know what is going on?"
"Sir, I—" Greg stood up from behind Mark.
"Yes?" Professor Corvus remarked calmly, as if he had not been previously howling mad.
"Well, sir, I hardly see how Muggle affairs are considered relevant in a class that is supposed to teach us about dark magic." Greg's free hand shook, but his voice remained even. Professor Corvus twitched his head from side to side for a moment, then flew back to his podium in a rush of black robes.
"Morocco, 1905. Germany assists Moroccans in their attempt to overthrow their French government. The Balkans, 1908, Austria-Hungry annexes Bosnia and Herzegovina. The Serbians threaten Austria Hungry with war. 1911, Italy declares war on the Ottoman Empire. Children! These events were not so long ago! You all were about ten years old when the Balkan Wars began. Do you not see what is coming?" Professor Corvus scanned the room intensely, as though trying to communicate his message via brain waves. Maura raised her hand tentatively.
"Sir, my da, he says the world is one shot away from war… but sir, I don't understand. Serbia, Morocco, Austria-Hungry, these places are quite far away. What have they to do with Hogwarts?" Maura could picture her father, slowly chewing his breakfast, reading the paper and shaking his head, scratching his mustache and sighing. Then he would put down the paper and say "England will not go to war, but war will come to her" before sipping the dregs of his tea and leaving for work. Maura cleared her head of the fragments of memories in time to hear the professor's answer.
"For centuries, wizards have separated themselves from the Muggles, creating their own communities, villages, schools and hospitals. But the isolation is coming to an end. The events in the Muggle world have an echo effect on the magical world. Wizards are starting to take an interest in power in the Muggle world. And where power is an issue, evil ensues like a shadow."
"So what you're saying," Nancy offered, "is that the power struggle in the Muggle world has its roots in dark wizards?"
"Among other things, yes. And dark wizardry is what we are here to prevent. If you will open your books to page 12, you will find a chart—" Professor Corvus was quickly drowned out by the sound of page turning.
" 'But the isolation is coming to an end.' That sounds mightily familiar," Maura remarked dryly to Eve in the hall. The taller girl stopped.
"You're thinking of The isolation ends in a crash of thunder from the prophecy? I was wondering the same thing myself. I wish there was… a teacher… or someone here we knew we could trust. This whole politicking has me bushraggled." Eve adjusted her robes slightly and continued in a different voice. "There's a dueling club meeting tonight, before supper."
Maura smiled her encouragement, "You ought to try, Eve. You're spelling everything in sight while I'm still trying to figure out which end of a wand is which…"
Eve looked down and blushed faintly. "I…do you think maybe you could come too…I don't want to go by myself…I'll feel quite ridiculous."
Maura grinned. "Feeling ridiculous is my specialty."
This, of course, is usually the space for the author's note, but the author is so ashamed at having not updated in SIX MONTHS that she has crawled under her blanket. The author would like to make the singular comment that she suffered a terrible case of writer's block, combined with numerous vacations and personal issues that have caused the delay of this (rather short) chapter. So here's hoping that you all forgive me *sniffle* and that you all review and encourage me to keep blundering my way through pre-Harry, pre-MWPP fic. And it's hard!
Aroo!
Meitora
