Switch chuckled. "Ah, Gesius, trade me this one! I'll give you the Valery lad, and throw in a couple of Weasleys –
"No trade," said Lott lightly, standing and reaching for his wand. "Not unless you're parting with Dumbledore."
Ron Weasley awoke to shouting, bustle, and the concerted magical efforts of all four of his roommates as they jumpily levitated him out of bed and onto the floor. Gurgling something incoherent, he shielded himself from the light that he suddenly realized was not present.
Second year, by the unanimous agreement of his roommates, Ron had been relegated to the bed across from the window, on the grounds that any natural aid in waking him up was welcome. However, the window only showed the first tinges of dawn. Harry tossed his school robes at him, and he sleepily put them all, wondering what the big rush was about. Manhandled down the staircase, he stumbled into the common room, where the rest of Gryffindor house was standing in a similar state of dishevelment and confusion. Looking on disapprovingly was Professor Switch.
"House Gryffindor. Is that the best you can do? It seems standards of discipline as well as academics have been relaxed since I attended- and that will be corrected. I am, as you may know, your new head of house, and beginning now you are my responsibility. I will not tolerate insubordination in any form, Do I make myself clear?"
A muttered "Yes, sir" resentfully rippled through the crowd, and Switch frowned slightly but continued. "In any case, schedules are to be distributed in the Great Hall. All students third-year and above will be tested during their Defense against the Dark Arts classes today or tomorrow. Additionally, a demonstration for an extracurricular Dueling Club will take place at lunch today. Prefects are required to attend...all prefects, while other students are limited to 10 per house. I am further limiting entries from this house to the fifth years and above- no arguments, no exceptions. I suggest strongly that you make yourself presentable before reporting for breakfast - dismissed!"
Ron and others straggled gratefully up the stairs. A darkly murmured comment from a Weasley twin was heralded by grim chuckles as soon as they rounded the corner of the stairs. And they had thought McGonagall was strict...
The students eventually came down to breakfast to find their schedules, grumbling more than a bit about early mornings and sadistic Professors. Ron was almost the last down, dropping heavily into his seat beside Harry. "What do we have today?"
Harry and Ron shared a schedule, so Ron craned his neck over Harry's shoulder as the scarred boy spoke. "Double Defense first...all houses together. They're sorting into advanced and main track classes, and Hermione says they usually don't do that until sixth form. I wonder what's up with that? Afternoon is Herbology with the Hufflepuffs and Transfiguration with the Ravenclaws, and then Astronomy in the evening. Tomorrow...Care of Magical Creatures..." Ron started groaning even before he finished, "with the Slytherins. Again. Charms with the Hufflepuffs, and then there's a free double period where Hermione has Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. Wednesday has Potions first thing."
"With Slytherin again?" Ron asked, without much hope for a negative answer.
"Yeah. Then Defense again, and the afternoon is double Charms." Harry squinted at the lettering. "Thursday is double Transfiguration, then Herbology and then History of Magic with the Ravenclaws...oh, and Astronomy. Then Friday...ouch. Double History of Magic, and then rounding out the day, Double Potions. I really can't wait until we can drop some of those classes next year…"
Ron made a face as the daily storm of owls assaulted the Great Hall. Malfoy's eagle owl was obvious, but Harry's Hedwig was nowhere in sight. Most of the first-years got packages from home, and Fred and George got a Howler...Mrs. Weasley going on about holing the first years' boats or something of the sort. Her bellows had barely died away when a beautiful vision in fire appeared at the apex of the ceiling-sky, slowly spiraling down. The phoenix, for it could hardly be anything else, was in full show, fire licking at his feathers without singing them, trailing behind him. The Hall watched as he glided to the staff table before banking and swooping over towards the trio. Just short of them a sheaf of papers was dropped, and an arm was held up. The phoenix landed gracefully, curling himself around the shoulder of the strange prefect, who was matter-of-factly going through the papers as the Gryffindors around him gaped.
Ron and Harry both looked shrewdly at the bird, who craned his bennet neck to look back. "Fawkes? Fawkes!" The phoenix trilled happily in response. Ron looked around. "Where's Dumbledore? And since when are you a mailbird?"
"Since I asked him." The mild voice was eerily familiar, and Ron stared into the pale blue eyes of the auburn-haired prefect. "I do not believe we have been introduced...?"
"Ron Weasley. These are my friends Harry Potter and Hermione Granger" Hermione waved distractedly from where she was re-reading 'The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts'. "You?"
"Albus Dumbledore. Hogwarts School of Wizardry, class of 1858"
Ron swore, and there was a clatter as Harry dropped his fork onto his plate. "You're kidding me."
The prefect half-raised his eyebrows. "I don't believe so, no. Lemon drop?" He was untwisting a crudely wrapped confection. When Ron and Harry both shook their heads mutely, he shrugged and offered it to Fawkes, who gulped it down greedily before abruptly disappearing. Dumbledore seemed completely nonchalant at the occurrence, returning to the perusal of the various papers arrayed in front of him. Ron exchanged a long look with Harry before they excused themselves from the table, heading to the rarely-used lecture hall that was the indicated room for Defense against the Dark Arts.
The half-opened door behind the
podium and the instructions written in elegant script on the blackboard were the
only indications of the presence of Professor Lott. Ron slumped into a seat
well up in the tiers, near the door - after a bit of hesitation, Harry joined
him, while Hermione moved to sit at the front of the class. Squinting at the
board, he read:
Testing for Divination ability will be ongoing throughout this class. It is strongly recommended that students write an essay outlining their perception of the Dark Arts, and defining the Dark Arts in relation to other magic to occupy themselves in the meantime.
-Professor Lott
Indeed, the professor in question, garbed in a somewhat archaic black robe that only highlighted his eerie resemblance to Professor Snape, appeared briefly to curtly motion Hufflepuff Hannah Abbott into the room beyond. In a matter of minutes, she emerged, shrugging, and indicating to the next student they could go in.
Professor Lott's appearance had shushed the lecture hall, but almost as soon as he was behind the door whispered conversations started up. Slightly less than half the people were doing the recommended essay, and Ron was not among them. Harry had given him an apologetic look after getting out parchment and beginning his.
"I'd love to chat Ron, really-it's just that this isn't just another subject for me, it's, well, not to be overdramatic, but it might literally mean life or death. You understand, right?"
He did, though he resented it. Not entertaining even for a moment the notion that Hermione might be blowing off the essay and want to chat, he instead moved over to sit by Dean and Seamus, who were having an argument over Quidditch and (Ron made a face to himself) Viktor Krum, who had had a very successful summer. The Bulgarian team was looking to be in the running for the World Cup again, after their hairline defeat last year. Both of them grinned as Ron loudly protested the assertion that this was due to Krum's talent, and then tried vainly to change the subject as he went on about it for a rather long time, only stopping when Seamus was called up to the front by a grinning Justin Finch-Fletchley.
When Seamus came back, he finally noticed his erstwhile girlfriend, Lavender Brown, bawling her eyes out because Lott had told her she had absolutely no talent in Divination whatsoever. Parvati was looking both sympathetic and at the same time somewhat gleeful that she had a chance to one-up Lavender at their favorite subject. Seamus slouched over to try and console Lavender, who burst into a fresh bout of histrionics as soon as he tried to sympathize. Dean tried to rope Ron into a discussion of football, but Ron's utter ignorance in the subject soon convinced Dean to drop it. Soon enough Dean himself was called up, and after that there was barely a few minutes before Ron himself was sent to the darkened anteroom to the lecture hall by the pretty and dark-haired new Hufflepuff prefect.
The dispassionate eyes of Professor Lott, as black as Professor Snape's, took in Ron's appearance, before motioning him to sit. An opaque potion of strange consistancy was on the desk between them, and Ron hesitantly took a sip at the curtly ordered, "Drink.", then gulped the whole thing down as Lott gave him a look- one that he was familiar with from four years of potions classes, one that meant 'One more disruption and I take off points. Any more and I skin you alive and hang you off the Astronomy Tower for the scavengers.' Most students instinctively minded that look by now.
It did not taste unpleasant- a bit earthy, perhaps, but Ron found himself almost compelled to obey the command to look into the fire burning in a gold chalice between him ans Lott, casting the latter's handsome features in sharp relief. Ron heard himself report seeing nothing, and he was motioned towards the silver chalice, filled with water. Expecting only to see his own reflection, he was shocked when he saw a door- the Minister of Magic's door, recognizable from the few times his father had brought his children into work(always leaving behind Fred and George, to their chagrin). However, instead of 'Fudge', the placard read 'Weasley'. The door opened, to show a red head of hair behind a large overstuffed chair. The idea-sound of paper being shuffled rippled through the image- and the ripples broke the vision into a thousand pieces through refraction and re-refraction. Barely aware he had been narrating the whole time for Lott, Ron looked up, to meet the Professor's measuring gaze. It seemed to strip away all of the petty veils hiding his true self.
"Well." The cold eyes did not show any surprise, and the voice was not inflected with the words. "Most unexpected. Your revised schedule will be available tomorrow morning. Please bring in Miss Zabini."
"You're saying...you're saying I'm a diviner?"
"You are -dismissed-, Mr. Weasley." Danger rang through that tone, and Ron scurried out, returning to his first seat next to Harry, who was finishing his essay. Just in time, as well- Professor Lott followed a deflated-looking Blaise Zabini out, calling all the people with papers to the front of the room. He frowned, looking at the few who straggled down, Harry and Hermione among them. He surveyed the rest of the room, a trace of a scowl on his face.
"Delinquents." There was disgust in his tone, even more when he turned to one of the more densely populated corners of the room. "Slytherin delinquents. What has this school come to?" The scowl turned into a hint of a cruel smile. "Well then. Apparently sloth and ignorance have fully flowered in these hallowed halls. This was not a difficult assignment, but it appears many of you have refrained from trying your hand at defining the Dark Arts beyond something you are being taught to defend against." Lott's hand snaked into his robes. "It appears a demonstration is in order..."