Chapter 8
The First Day Back
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"This looks familiar, vaguely familiar,
Almost unreal yet, it's too soon to feel, yet,
Close to my soul, and yet so far away,
I'm going to go back there some day.
Sun rises, night falls, sometimes the sky calls.
Is that a song there, and do I belong there?
I've never been there, but I know the way,
I'm going to go back there some day.
Come and go with me, it's more fun to share
We'll both be completely, at home in midair.
We're flying, not walking, on featherless wings,
We can all learn to love, like invisible strings.
There's not a word yet, for old friends who've just met.
Part heaven, part space, or have I found my place?
You can just visit, but I plan to stay,
I'm going to go back there some day.
I'm going to go back there some day."
-From The Muppet Movie.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------
The students shuffled out of the train and made their way to the stagecoaches that awaited them, while the first years headed off to the shore of the lake, where boats waited to take them on their traditional ride across the lake. Harry, Darien, Hermione, and Ron climbed into one of the coaches. During the short ride, the three boys discussed Quidditch teams while Hermione spent her time reading one of her new textbooks.
"Norway should do well this year," said Ron. "Got a new Beater by the name Harish."
"Harish is good," said Darien. "But he's just one man. To win Quidditch you have to have a good team. Switzerland, now they've got a good team."
"Are you kidding?" said Ron. "Switzerland's all washed up! And they have been since '92!"
"What about Germany?" asked Harry. Both Darien and Ron looked at Harry and another argument started over which team was best. Hermione simply shook her head in disgust.
The coaches pulled up to the main gate and the students climbed out. They made their way through the wrought-iron gates, which they noticed were riddled with arcane runes. They would discover later that the school had placed redoubled the number of protective enchantments placed on the castle. As they passed through the gates and underneath a newly constructed portcullis, they were directed into the Great Hall by Filch, the castle's caretaker.
In the great multitude of students, Harry, Hermione, and Ron lost sight of Darien as he was swept into the crowd. The three of them cried after him but were unable to find him again. They instead decided that they would do their best to meet up with him later.
Inside the Great Hall, the four long tables, one for each of the school houses, were already prepared with plates, silverware, and great golden goblets. The room was illuminated by thousands of candles which hung suspended in the air, charmed to never burn out as long as there was a need for them. The ceiling, enchanted to show the sky above them, created a picture of a beautiful night sky, devoid clouds, filled with a countless number of stars and planets dominated by the pale glow of a full moon.
At one end of the room, tables had been placed on a dais for the professors. Harry could already see the Headmaster, the beloved Professor Dumbledore, seated at the head of the table. On his left sat Professor McGonagall, the Transfiguration professor and the head of Harry's house, Gryffindor. On Dumbledore's right was Professor Severus Snape, who was already casting a scowl at Harry. Snape was Harry's Potion professor, and the two of them hated each other with a passion. Harry couldn't help but notice that Snape seemed paler than before and that dark bags seemed to hang from his eyes. And then Harry saw someone new.
Sitting just to the right of Snape was a man Harry had never seen before. He appeared to be in his mid-forties and he had a gaunt face with light brown hair. His mouth was tight-lipped and his jaw was firmly set. There was a single, white scar on the man's face that ran from his left temple to his left cheek. Harry could already see that the man's robes were stretched over a stout, muscular frame. The man's deep blue eyes were scanning the crowd even as he held a conversation with Professor Snape. For a moment, it seemed as though his eyes and Harry's met. But as quickly as it came, it was gone.
Hagrid entered the Great Hall with a booming voice, shouting greetings to students and teachers alike. The children began to sit at their house tables as they prepared for the sorting of the First Years. Harry could already smell the food being made by the house elves as he sat down next to Hermione, Ron, and Ginny. On the other side of the table sat Dean, Seamus, and Neville.
There was still no sign of Darien.
As the students became settled, Professor Dumbledore stood up, waiting for complete silence before he began to speak.
"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts," he said with a twinkle in his eye. Harry couldn't help but notice how fatigued Dumbledore seemed. His age of well over one hundred was beginning to show. "It lightens my heart to see you all again and the fact that we will soon be joined by a new group of students."
He gestured towards the far side of the room where everyone could now see the first years assembling. Harry didn't recognize any younger siblings. He shifted his gaze back to the dais where he could see that the Sorting Hat had already been placed on a stool, waiting to sort the first years into their various houses.
(I know that normally at this point, the Sorting Hat would sing a song. To prevent myself from seeming even more silly, I will refrain from even assuming that I have the ability to write a poem/song for the Sorting Hat, which we know changes the song each year. Please use your imagination to fill in this spot with your song of choice. Now on with the story!)
The first years arranged themselves in front of the hat, and each stepped up to be sorted when Professor McGonagall called out his or her name. The process took some time, during which Harry's stomach began to growl increasingly louder. After what seemed an eternity, the last first year was sorted (a Gryffindor) to thunderous applause from the Gryffindor table. Professor Dumbledore rose again and addressed the crowd.
"It is my distinct pleasure," he began. "to announce to you that we are hosting a very special guest. He happens to be an exchange student all the way from the United States. He will be joining us for the entire year and I expect you to treat him with the same courtesy that you would any other student at Hogwarts. Darien, will you please step forward?" He gestured to the far side of the room again.
Harry, Hermione, and Ron swung the heads in the direction that Dumbledore was pointing, their jaws already hanging. There stood Darien, dressed in the Hogwarts uniform, with the exception that his silver clasp was of a bald eagle, as opposed to the Great Seal of Hogwarts. There were murmurs among the students as he strolled down the aisle towards the dais to be sorted. His face was impassive, yet his eyes strayed in Harry's direction as he passed by. He sat upon the stool and waited for the Sorting Hat to be placed on his head. Professor McGonagall put the hat on him and the entire assembly waited in anticipation to see which house he would be sorted into.
The crowd waited. And waited. And waited. And waited.
The moments seemed to stretch into eternity as all the students held their collective breath, waiting for the Sorting Hat to make its decision. The moments stretched into a minute. Then two, then three, then five. No one could ever remember a sorting that took this long. Even Neville Longbottom's hadn't been this time consuming. Harry could see beads of sweat beginning to form on Darien's forehead as the crowd began to buzz with anxiety. After what seemed an eternity, the hat finally spoke.
"Professor Dumbledore," the hat said. "Could I have a moment with you?"
Dumbledore rose, a look of concern on his face. He leaned in closer and listened intently as the hat whispered into Dumbledore's ear, too quietly for anyone except the three of them to hear. After a bit, Dumbledore straightened, wave for all the teachers to follow him in a small meeting room. The professors left the hall under Hagrid's care. Everyone began to talk about what an unusual year this was starting out to be.
Several minutes later, the professors left the meeting room with Darien following behind them. The professors rallied behind Dumbledore, who placed Darien before him, resting his withered hands on Darien's strong shoulders. Dumbledore did not look happy.
"Darien has been sorted into Gryffindor House," he said simply, and sent Darien over to his table. He walked towards Harry and his friends. The other students moved to make a space for him. When he sat down, Harry couldn't help but stare wordlessly at him. Harry wondered what all that had been about. His thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of a great plate of food before him as Dumbledore waved a hand, signaling that the feast had begun.
Harry had forgotten to eat due to his hectic day and was famished by now. He began to shovel entire platefuls of food into his mouth. Sizzling steaks, fresh lobster, rack of lamb, venison, entire roasted turkeys, steaming heaps of mashed potatoes, grilled onions, french fries, Caesar Salads, bowls of soup, goblets of delicious butterbeer(specially brewed in Hogwarts's cellars), milkshakes, crystal clear flavored water, fizzy sodas, the multitude of food seemed endless. The tables were laden with delicacies the likes of which Harry had never imagined, far more elegant and extravagant then he could remember in years past. Dobby and the other house elves had been busy indeed.
Time passed and soon everyone was sated. Dumbledore signaled for quiet before he rose to speak.
"I trust by now that we are all well fed?" he asked, his ancient eyes twinkling. "I sincerely hope so. As I'm sure you are all aware by now, the class of Defense Against the Dark Arts has been removed from the curriculum and has been replaced by Survival in the Magical World. We are honored to have this class taught by our newest professor, Professor Mundugus Fletcher."
He gestured towards the new professor Harry had noticed earlier. Professor Fletcher nodded his head at being acknowledged and returned to his conversation with Snape. Dumbledore continued.
"I also wish to inform you that although the House Competition will continue as normal, the Quidditch Tournament will be withheld this year."
There groans of disappointment from the students, mixed with shouts of anger. It took several moments before Dumbledore was able to calm the students down.
"I understand your feelings towards this, but I feel as that it is in our best interests and personal safety due to…recent events." The room was silent. Everyone knew what "recent events" the professor was referring to. There were no more groans from the crowd. "With that in mind, I wish you all a peaceful night and look forward to seeing you all bright and early tomorrow for the first day of classes. Dismissed."
The room was filled with the cacophony of chairs scraping against the floor as everyone rose to leave. As prefects, it was Harry and Hermione's duty to direct the Gryffindors through the corridors to their house.
"Earwig," Hermione said to the Fat Lady, the portrait who guarded the entrance to Gryffindor house. The painting swung forward and the students climbed one by one through the small opening that lead to the Gryffindor common room. Eager to get to sleep after the long day, Harry and Ron headed straight to the fifth-year boy's room. Inside, they found Darien sitting on a new four-post bed. His arms were crossed and he had mischievous smile on his face.
"How did you like my accent?" he inquired, his smiling growing, his voice now clearly portraying the standard American accent.
"So that was it!" Harry exclaimed triumphantly. "I though I noticed something strange about how you spoke on the train."
"You could have fooled me," Ron said dubiously. Darien simply continued smiling at them.
"Why don't we try this again," Darien said. He stood and walked over to the two, extending his hand. "My name is Darien McKinnons."
"Ron Weasley," he said, accepting Darien's hand.
"Harry Potter," he said, also giving Darien's hand a hearty shake. Darien looked intently at Harry.
"So you're the Boy Who Lived," he said simply. "I'm very pleased to meet you both."
They would have talked longer, but Seamus and Dean busted in, yelling about a party, dragging the three of them down into the common room. Someone had smuggled in some of Fred and George's new inventions in and the entire common room was rolling in waves of laughter.
They partied long into the night and it was quite some time before Harry was able to finally lie down and go to sleep. All in all, the new year had a very unusual start.
The next day, everyone woke unhappily(except Hermione) on the first day of school. Harry and the other boys dressed before heading down to breakfast. There, Harry, Ron, and Darien met up with Hermione, and the four of them sat down for breakfast. They went over their new schedules and Harry and Darien noticed that they had exactly the same classes.
Classes were the same as they had always been. Snape yelled at every little mistake that the Gryffindors made while praising the Slytherins for every minor success. Professor McGonagall was her normal strict self, speaking to them of how important this year would be to them, not than anyone paid attention to her except Hermione. Professor Flitwick was sick the first day and the entire class period was spent copying notes about Empowering Charms. Professor Binns, the only ghost teacher, started where they had left off last year in the same droning voice. They didn't have Divination with Professor Trelawney, who had not yet returned from her trip to Sweden. Things seemed fairly normal until they reached Survival in the Magical World.
When the students filed into the room, Professor Fletcher was already waiting for them. On the table were a parchment and a melon. The classroom walls were decked with ornate swords, and a suit of armor stood in the far corner. The students filled the seats and waited diligently for Professor Fletcher to begin. He rose from behind his desk and moved to stand in front of the students.
"This class is titled 'Survival in the Magical World,'" he said. "It is called that because that is what you will learn here. In the short year that follows, and it will seem short, I will teach you how to survive. You will learn how to heal yourselves as well as others. You will learn to live off of the land itself and use its resources to achieve your goals. You will learn to battle," here he paused and his piercing eyes scanned the crowd. "and you will learn to run. You will learn many skills. But there is something far more important to know how to do if you are to survive."
He leaned over to his desk and lifted a sheet of parchment which he scanned. It was several moments before he spoke.
"Hermione Granger?" he called. Hermione's hand shot up. "Thank you, you may lower your hand. I've been told that you are an exceptional student and that you have broken multiple records on exams." Hermione beamed. "You have perfect attendance, perfect grades, and with a few exceptions, you've also had model behavior. Is all of this true so far?" She nodded, wondering where the professor was going with this. "You are obviously a person who knows how to use her mind. But I'm wondering if that is all you are." Her beaming smile began to slowly fade and was replaced by a nervous countenance.
"Let me present you with a situation, Miss Granger. This is a true story. Back during the previous War Against the Dark Lord, there was a patrol squadron of 15 brooms making a pass over heavily forested terrain. Everything was going normally until they received a distress signal from a small squad of 3 soldiers below them. They were surrounded by a substantial enemy force. The squadron leader informed his superior via Personal Arcane Communications System that he was going to descend and assist the squad. His superior told him not to, that the risk was too great to save a mere 3 lives. Despite a direct order from his superior officer, the squadron leader ordered his wingmen to descend and pick up the beset soldiers. Would you say that the squadron leader made an intelligent decision?"
It was several moments before Hermione answered. Harry could see that she was beginning to sweat nervously at such an unusual question.
"No," she said finally. Professor Fletcher nodded in acknowledgement.
"Fair enough. Now let me tell you what happened. The squadron descended and rescued the three foot soldiers…" He paused as he took a moment to see if everyone was listening. Everyone was. "…and lost four wingmen in the attempt." The silence in the room was deafening and every student's eyes were locked either on Professor Fletcher or Hermione. "Now, would you say that that was a successful decision?"
Again, it was several moments before Hermione replied.
"No," she repeated.
"Hmm. True, a trade of three for four couldn't exactly be described as successful. BUT," he leaned in even closer, until he was eye level with Hermione. "if you had been put in the same position as the squadron leader, would you have made the same decision?"
Hermione was having trouble finding her voice. When she spoke, her voice was weak and quiet.
"Yes," she said.
"Why?" asked the professor, his eyes burning into hers.
"Because it would be the right thing to do," she said finally.
Professor Fletcher slowly stood up again, a small smile on his face.
"It looks as though there is hope for you yet. Yes, people, there is something very important that you will learn in here. You will learn to think with your head," he pointed to his own. "and with your hear." He touched the left side of his chest. "A true warrior knows when to think with which. Neville Longbottom?"
Neville became flustered at his name being called. "Yes," he asked, his voice cracking.
Professor Fletcher walked over to one of the walls, reached up and pulled an ax down. He hefted it and walked back over to his desk. "What is this used for?"
"Chopping wood, sir," Neville answered.
"That's correct," Professor Fletcher said, nodding his head. "It's used for chopping wood. Darien McKinnons?"
"Sir?" Darien responded.
"What else could this be used for?" the professor asked.
"It could be used to hurt someone," answered Darien, after pondering the question for a few long moments. Professor Fletcher nodded again.
"That is also correct," he said. "It can also be used to harm someone. Your magic is like this ax. It can be used to chop wood, or-"
He brought the ax down suddenly in a downward strike. Several people screamed in surprise and everyone jumped at the sickening thud as the ax hit the desk top. The ax sliced the melon on his desk cleanly in two. The two halves wobbled and spun from the force of the impact.
"-it can be used to cleave your opponents skull. In this class, you will learn to do both and, more critically, you will learn when to do which."
He walked behind his desk and sat down.
"And in case you're wondering," He said. "the squadron leader in that story was me. Class dismissed."
The students gathered their books, still in a stage of shock from the strange lesson. Just as Harry finished gathering his things, Professor Fletcher called him over to his desk to speak after everyone else left. Harry was a bit reluctant to be alone with the imposing professor. Fletcher stared at Harry for almost a minute before he said anything.
"You look just like your father," he said, more to himself than to Harry.
"Sir?" inquired Harry.
"Forgive me," Fletcher said, embarrassed. "Hagrid tells me that you have a photo album with pictures of your parents in it. Do you have this album at school?" Harry told him that he had it in his trunk back in the Gryffindor castle. "I was wondering if you could bring it with you to class tomorrow. I would like to speak with you a little while after the lesson."
"Of course, Professor," Harry said wonderingly. "Uh, forgive me for asking, but what is it you want to discuss?" It was a few moments before Professor Fletcher spoke.
"You better run along, Harry" he said. "You don't want to be late for dinner."
Harry got the message and left to catch up with the others. Later that evening, he would ponder over what an unusual first day back it had been.
The First Day Back
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"This looks familiar, vaguely familiar,
Almost unreal yet, it's too soon to feel, yet,
Close to my soul, and yet so far away,
I'm going to go back there some day.
Sun rises, night falls, sometimes the sky calls.
Is that a song there, and do I belong there?
I've never been there, but I know the way,
I'm going to go back there some day.
Come and go with me, it's more fun to share
We'll both be completely, at home in midair.
We're flying, not walking, on featherless wings,
We can all learn to love, like invisible strings.
There's not a word yet, for old friends who've just met.
Part heaven, part space, or have I found my place?
You can just visit, but I plan to stay,
I'm going to go back there some day.
I'm going to go back there some day."
-From The Muppet Movie.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------
The students shuffled out of the train and made their way to the stagecoaches that awaited them, while the first years headed off to the shore of the lake, where boats waited to take them on their traditional ride across the lake. Harry, Darien, Hermione, and Ron climbed into one of the coaches. During the short ride, the three boys discussed Quidditch teams while Hermione spent her time reading one of her new textbooks.
"Norway should do well this year," said Ron. "Got a new Beater by the name Harish."
"Harish is good," said Darien. "But he's just one man. To win Quidditch you have to have a good team. Switzerland, now they've got a good team."
"Are you kidding?" said Ron. "Switzerland's all washed up! And they have been since '92!"
"What about Germany?" asked Harry. Both Darien and Ron looked at Harry and another argument started over which team was best. Hermione simply shook her head in disgust.
The coaches pulled up to the main gate and the students climbed out. They made their way through the wrought-iron gates, which they noticed were riddled with arcane runes. They would discover later that the school had placed redoubled the number of protective enchantments placed on the castle. As they passed through the gates and underneath a newly constructed portcullis, they were directed into the Great Hall by Filch, the castle's caretaker.
In the great multitude of students, Harry, Hermione, and Ron lost sight of Darien as he was swept into the crowd. The three of them cried after him but were unable to find him again. They instead decided that they would do their best to meet up with him later.
Inside the Great Hall, the four long tables, one for each of the school houses, were already prepared with plates, silverware, and great golden goblets. The room was illuminated by thousands of candles which hung suspended in the air, charmed to never burn out as long as there was a need for them. The ceiling, enchanted to show the sky above them, created a picture of a beautiful night sky, devoid clouds, filled with a countless number of stars and planets dominated by the pale glow of a full moon.
At one end of the room, tables had been placed on a dais for the professors. Harry could already see the Headmaster, the beloved Professor Dumbledore, seated at the head of the table. On his left sat Professor McGonagall, the Transfiguration professor and the head of Harry's house, Gryffindor. On Dumbledore's right was Professor Severus Snape, who was already casting a scowl at Harry. Snape was Harry's Potion professor, and the two of them hated each other with a passion. Harry couldn't help but notice that Snape seemed paler than before and that dark bags seemed to hang from his eyes. And then Harry saw someone new.
Sitting just to the right of Snape was a man Harry had never seen before. He appeared to be in his mid-forties and he had a gaunt face with light brown hair. His mouth was tight-lipped and his jaw was firmly set. There was a single, white scar on the man's face that ran from his left temple to his left cheek. Harry could already see that the man's robes were stretched over a stout, muscular frame. The man's deep blue eyes were scanning the crowd even as he held a conversation with Professor Snape. For a moment, it seemed as though his eyes and Harry's met. But as quickly as it came, it was gone.
Hagrid entered the Great Hall with a booming voice, shouting greetings to students and teachers alike. The children began to sit at their house tables as they prepared for the sorting of the First Years. Harry could already smell the food being made by the house elves as he sat down next to Hermione, Ron, and Ginny. On the other side of the table sat Dean, Seamus, and Neville.
There was still no sign of Darien.
As the students became settled, Professor Dumbledore stood up, waiting for complete silence before he began to speak.
"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts," he said with a twinkle in his eye. Harry couldn't help but notice how fatigued Dumbledore seemed. His age of well over one hundred was beginning to show. "It lightens my heart to see you all again and the fact that we will soon be joined by a new group of students."
He gestured towards the far side of the room where everyone could now see the first years assembling. Harry didn't recognize any younger siblings. He shifted his gaze back to the dais where he could see that the Sorting Hat had already been placed on a stool, waiting to sort the first years into their various houses.
(I know that normally at this point, the Sorting Hat would sing a song. To prevent myself from seeming even more silly, I will refrain from even assuming that I have the ability to write a poem/song for the Sorting Hat, which we know changes the song each year. Please use your imagination to fill in this spot with your song of choice. Now on with the story!)
The first years arranged themselves in front of the hat, and each stepped up to be sorted when Professor McGonagall called out his or her name. The process took some time, during which Harry's stomach began to growl increasingly louder. After what seemed an eternity, the last first year was sorted (a Gryffindor) to thunderous applause from the Gryffindor table. Professor Dumbledore rose again and addressed the crowd.
"It is my distinct pleasure," he began. "to announce to you that we are hosting a very special guest. He happens to be an exchange student all the way from the United States. He will be joining us for the entire year and I expect you to treat him with the same courtesy that you would any other student at Hogwarts. Darien, will you please step forward?" He gestured to the far side of the room again.
Harry, Hermione, and Ron swung the heads in the direction that Dumbledore was pointing, their jaws already hanging. There stood Darien, dressed in the Hogwarts uniform, with the exception that his silver clasp was of a bald eagle, as opposed to the Great Seal of Hogwarts. There were murmurs among the students as he strolled down the aisle towards the dais to be sorted. His face was impassive, yet his eyes strayed in Harry's direction as he passed by. He sat upon the stool and waited for the Sorting Hat to be placed on his head. Professor McGonagall put the hat on him and the entire assembly waited in anticipation to see which house he would be sorted into.
The crowd waited. And waited. And waited. And waited.
The moments seemed to stretch into eternity as all the students held their collective breath, waiting for the Sorting Hat to make its decision. The moments stretched into a minute. Then two, then three, then five. No one could ever remember a sorting that took this long. Even Neville Longbottom's hadn't been this time consuming. Harry could see beads of sweat beginning to form on Darien's forehead as the crowd began to buzz with anxiety. After what seemed an eternity, the hat finally spoke.
"Professor Dumbledore," the hat said. "Could I have a moment with you?"
Dumbledore rose, a look of concern on his face. He leaned in closer and listened intently as the hat whispered into Dumbledore's ear, too quietly for anyone except the three of them to hear. After a bit, Dumbledore straightened, wave for all the teachers to follow him in a small meeting room. The professors left the hall under Hagrid's care. Everyone began to talk about what an unusual year this was starting out to be.
Several minutes later, the professors left the meeting room with Darien following behind them. The professors rallied behind Dumbledore, who placed Darien before him, resting his withered hands on Darien's strong shoulders. Dumbledore did not look happy.
"Darien has been sorted into Gryffindor House," he said simply, and sent Darien over to his table. He walked towards Harry and his friends. The other students moved to make a space for him. When he sat down, Harry couldn't help but stare wordlessly at him. Harry wondered what all that had been about. His thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of a great plate of food before him as Dumbledore waved a hand, signaling that the feast had begun.
Harry had forgotten to eat due to his hectic day and was famished by now. He began to shovel entire platefuls of food into his mouth. Sizzling steaks, fresh lobster, rack of lamb, venison, entire roasted turkeys, steaming heaps of mashed potatoes, grilled onions, french fries, Caesar Salads, bowls of soup, goblets of delicious butterbeer(specially brewed in Hogwarts's cellars), milkshakes, crystal clear flavored water, fizzy sodas, the multitude of food seemed endless. The tables were laden with delicacies the likes of which Harry had never imagined, far more elegant and extravagant then he could remember in years past. Dobby and the other house elves had been busy indeed.
Time passed and soon everyone was sated. Dumbledore signaled for quiet before he rose to speak.
"I trust by now that we are all well fed?" he asked, his ancient eyes twinkling. "I sincerely hope so. As I'm sure you are all aware by now, the class of Defense Against the Dark Arts has been removed from the curriculum and has been replaced by Survival in the Magical World. We are honored to have this class taught by our newest professor, Professor Mundugus Fletcher."
He gestured towards the new professor Harry had noticed earlier. Professor Fletcher nodded his head at being acknowledged and returned to his conversation with Snape. Dumbledore continued.
"I also wish to inform you that although the House Competition will continue as normal, the Quidditch Tournament will be withheld this year."
There groans of disappointment from the students, mixed with shouts of anger. It took several moments before Dumbledore was able to calm the students down.
"I understand your feelings towards this, but I feel as that it is in our best interests and personal safety due to…recent events." The room was silent. Everyone knew what "recent events" the professor was referring to. There were no more groans from the crowd. "With that in mind, I wish you all a peaceful night and look forward to seeing you all bright and early tomorrow for the first day of classes. Dismissed."
The room was filled with the cacophony of chairs scraping against the floor as everyone rose to leave. As prefects, it was Harry and Hermione's duty to direct the Gryffindors through the corridors to their house.
"Earwig," Hermione said to the Fat Lady, the portrait who guarded the entrance to Gryffindor house. The painting swung forward and the students climbed one by one through the small opening that lead to the Gryffindor common room. Eager to get to sleep after the long day, Harry and Ron headed straight to the fifth-year boy's room. Inside, they found Darien sitting on a new four-post bed. His arms were crossed and he had mischievous smile on his face.
"How did you like my accent?" he inquired, his smiling growing, his voice now clearly portraying the standard American accent.
"So that was it!" Harry exclaimed triumphantly. "I though I noticed something strange about how you spoke on the train."
"You could have fooled me," Ron said dubiously. Darien simply continued smiling at them.
"Why don't we try this again," Darien said. He stood and walked over to the two, extending his hand. "My name is Darien McKinnons."
"Ron Weasley," he said, accepting Darien's hand.
"Harry Potter," he said, also giving Darien's hand a hearty shake. Darien looked intently at Harry.
"So you're the Boy Who Lived," he said simply. "I'm very pleased to meet you both."
They would have talked longer, but Seamus and Dean busted in, yelling about a party, dragging the three of them down into the common room. Someone had smuggled in some of Fred and George's new inventions in and the entire common room was rolling in waves of laughter.
They partied long into the night and it was quite some time before Harry was able to finally lie down and go to sleep. All in all, the new year had a very unusual start.
The next day, everyone woke unhappily(except Hermione) on the first day of school. Harry and the other boys dressed before heading down to breakfast. There, Harry, Ron, and Darien met up with Hermione, and the four of them sat down for breakfast. They went over their new schedules and Harry and Darien noticed that they had exactly the same classes.
Classes were the same as they had always been. Snape yelled at every little mistake that the Gryffindors made while praising the Slytherins for every minor success. Professor McGonagall was her normal strict self, speaking to them of how important this year would be to them, not than anyone paid attention to her except Hermione. Professor Flitwick was sick the first day and the entire class period was spent copying notes about Empowering Charms. Professor Binns, the only ghost teacher, started where they had left off last year in the same droning voice. They didn't have Divination with Professor Trelawney, who had not yet returned from her trip to Sweden. Things seemed fairly normal until they reached Survival in the Magical World.
When the students filed into the room, Professor Fletcher was already waiting for them. On the table were a parchment and a melon. The classroom walls were decked with ornate swords, and a suit of armor stood in the far corner. The students filled the seats and waited diligently for Professor Fletcher to begin. He rose from behind his desk and moved to stand in front of the students.
"This class is titled 'Survival in the Magical World,'" he said. "It is called that because that is what you will learn here. In the short year that follows, and it will seem short, I will teach you how to survive. You will learn how to heal yourselves as well as others. You will learn to live off of the land itself and use its resources to achieve your goals. You will learn to battle," here he paused and his piercing eyes scanned the crowd. "and you will learn to run. You will learn many skills. But there is something far more important to know how to do if you are to survive."
He leaned over to his desk and lifted a sheet of parchment which he scanned. It was several moments before he spoke.
"Hermione Granger?" he called. Hermione's hand shot up. "Thank you, you may lower your hand. I've been told that you are an exceptional student and that you have broken multiple records on exams." Hermione beamed. "You have perfect attendance, perfect grades, and with a few exceptions, you've also had model behavior. Is all of this true so far?" She nodded, wondering where the professor was going with this. "You are obviously a person who knows how to use her mind. But I'm wondering if that is all you are." Her beaming smile began to slowly fade and was replaced by a nervous countenance.
"Let me present you with a situation, Miss Granger. This is a true story. Back during the previous War Against the Dark Lord, there was a patrol squadron of 15 brooms making a pass over heavily forested terrain. Everything was going normally until they received a distress signal from a small squad of 3 soldiers below them. They were surrounded by a substantial enemy force. The squadron leader informed his superior via Personal Arcane Communications System that he was going to descend and assist the squad. His superior told him not to, that the risk was too great to save a mere 3 lives. Despite a direct order from his superior officer, the squadron leader ordered his wingmen to descend and pick up the beset soldiers. Would you say that the squadron leader made an intelligent decision?"
It was several moments before Hermione answered. Harry could see that she was beginning to sweat nervously at such an unusual question.
"No," she said finally. Professor Fletcher nodded in acknowledgement.
"Fair enough. Now let me tell you what happened. The squadron descended and rescued the three foot soldiers…" He paused as he took a moment to see if everyone was listening. Everyone was. "…and lost four wingmen in the attempt." The silence in the room was deafening and every student's eyes were locked either on Professor Fletcher or Hermione. "Now, would you say that that was a successful decision?"
Again, it was several moments before Hermione replied.
"No," she repeated.
"Hmm. True, a trade of three for four couldn't exactly be described as successful. BUT," he leaned in even closer, until he was eye level with Hermione. "if you had been put in the same position as the squadron leader, would you have made the same decision?"
Hermione was having trouble finding her voice. When she spoke, her voice was weak and quiet.
"Yes," she said.
"Why?" asked the professor, his eyes burning into hers.
"Because it would be the right thing to do," she said finally.
Professor Fletcher slowly stood up again, a small smile on his face.
"It looks as though there is hope for you yet. Yes, people, there is something very important that you will learn in here. You will learn to think with your head," he pointed to his own. "and with your hear." He touched the left side of his chest. "A true warrior knows when to think with which. Neville Longbottom?"
Neville became flustered at his name being called. "Yes," he asked, his voice cracking.
Professor Fletcher walked over to one of the walls, reached up and pulled an ax down. He hefted it and walked back over to his desk. "What is this used for?"
"Chopping wood, sir," Neville answered.
"That's correct," Professor Fletcher said, nodding his head. "It's used for chopping wood. Darien McKinnons?"
"Sir?" Darien responded.
"What else could this be used for?" the professor asked.
"It could be used to hurt someone," answered Darien, after pondering the question for a few long moments. Professor Fletcher nodded again.
"That is also correct," he said. "It can also be used to harm someone. Your magic is like this ax. It can be used to chop wood, or-"
He brought the ax down suddenly in a downward strike. Several people screamed in surprise and everyone jumped at the sickening thud as the ax hit the desk top. The ax sliced the melon on his desk cleanly in two. The two halves wobbled and spun from the force of the impact.
"-it can be used to cleave your opponents skull. In this class, you will learn to do both and, more critically, you will learn when to do which."
He walked behind his desk and sat down.
"And in case you're wondering," He said. "the squadron leader in that story was me. Class dismissed."
The students gathered their books, still in a stage of shock from the strange lesson. Just as Harry finished gathering his things, Professor Fletcher called him over to his desk to speak after everyone else left. Harry was a bit reluctant to be alone with the imposing professor. Fletcher stared at Harry for almost a minute before he said anything.
"You look just like your father," he said, more to himself than to Harry.
"Sir?" inquired Harry.
"Forgive me," Fletcher said, embarrassed. "Hagrid tells me that you have a photo album with pictures of your parents in it. Do you have this album at school?" Harry told him that he had it in his trunk back in the Gryffindor castle. "I was wondering if you could bring it with you to class tomorrow. I would like to speak with you a little while after the lesson."
"Of course, Professor," Harry said wonderingly. "Uh, forgive me for asking, but what is it you want to discuss?" It was a few moments before Professor Fletcher spoke.
"You better run along, Harry" he said. "You don't want to be late for dinner."
Harry got the message and left to catch up with the others. Later that evening, he would ponder over what an unusual first day back it had been.