*Chapter Seven*
The next day, the students that weren't still in the infirmary, got up and dressed, eager to start their day. None were as eager as the first year group heading out to the field. Whispers about what happened the night before interspersed with speculation as to why Harry Potter was now teaching at Hogwarts swirled around them, mingling together.
"I heard he went crazy after graduation." A Gryffindor boy by the name of Lance Hardwick, offered in a superior voice. The others around him gasped at the declaration.
"Well, I heard he ran off after his godfather was killed and started murdering people. He claimed they were Deatheaters, but these people had no ties to You-Know-Who whatsoever. Plum off his rocker, that one." A tall, long-faced Slytherin girl shot out.
"Oh, come one Lilah. Harry Potter, a murderer? Don't be daft." Another girl, this one a Gryffindor, said with an exaggerated eye roll.
"Shows what you know, Rebecca. I heard it from my father, who works in the Ministry. They've been trying to catch him for months. Dumbledore took up for him and gave him the job, AGAINST the Ministry's wishes, might I add," Lilah said with a haughty air.
"You don't know what you're talking about." Rebecca insisted. The group had come upon two, neat rows of broomsticks lined on the grass, their bristles pointed away from each other. There was no sign of their Flying teacher, however.
"Oh, wonderful. Seems the Great Harry Potter can't be bothered to be at his own class on time," a rather short, pale skinned Slytherin boy shot out, eliciting laugher from his fellow house members and scowls from the Gryffindor's. Lance took a step forward and opened his mouth as if to say something, only to be cut off by the deep, commanding voice that reached them across the field.
"Please choose a broomstick and stand next to it," All heads turned in the direction it came from. Some of the girls gasped at the striking figure striding purposefully toward them across the grass, his black robes flowing behind him. The boys scowled at the way the girls were reacting, but a touch of awe was evident on each of their faces the closer he came. They scrambled to do as he ordered and quickly formed two lines.
Harry-who was not in the most pleasant of moods after his conversation with Ginny and the lack of sleep it caused- strode quickly between them. When he reached the head of the lines, he turned smoothly on his heel. Hands on his hips, his eyes touched each student in turn.
"Welcome to your first flying lesson."
~*~*~
Ronald Weasley didn't consider himself a coward. However, there was no mistaking the cold sweat that trickled between his shoulders blades, or that the cause of it was the sound of students outside his office door. He figured, by the excited way their voices penetrated the wood, that they were discussing the events of the night before. He could imagine the theories they were tossing around, or the gossip that would undoubtedly be spread.
Ron couldn't think of anything he wanted to do more than walk out the door. He was an Auror, not a teacher. The idea of facing several groups of students during the day terrified him so badly, he'd woken up in the middle of the night with his heart thudding erratically against his chest. He'd been so shaken, that he had finally broken down and finished the whiskey just to try to get back to sleep. Unfortunately, he hadn't slept long enough to evade the headache throbbing behind his eyes. It was a good thing that it had been the only bottle he'd brought with him. He would have to go into Hogsmeade if he wanted another, but there was too much of a chance there would be talk, and he couldn't risk them thinking the rumors of him being a drunk were true.
So, he had no choice now but to just take a deep breath and go face them. Whether he wanted to or not.
Come on, Ron. They're just kids, he told himself. Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and walked to the door. Silence fell over the room as all eyes turned to see their new teacher walking down the stairs from his office. Eyes widened at the pure size of him. They'd all heard of Ronald Weasley. He'd played and important part in the fall of You-Know-Who. His career as an Auror was legendary, and he had only been one for a few, short years. There was something about him, that seemed larger than life, and it wasn't his height.
They were surprised to see that where he was dressed in robes, you could see that he was wearing jeans beneath it. When he stopped by his desk, they could see the robes hanging open and the Chudley's Cannons t-shirt he had on. Dragon hide boots completed the extremely un-teacher like appearance, tearing the students between awe and amusement.
Ron looked over the sea of children and swallowed hard against urge to lose the contents of his stomach.
"Good morning, welcome to Dark Arts. I'm Professor Weasley," he started, pausing to ponder how odd that sounded. "So, shall we get on with this then?" he mumbled half to himself. "Right, then. Let's go around the room, so you can introduce yourselves, then we'll get started," he decided. He looked at the girl with long, curly black hair sitting to his right and nodded.
"Er, I'm Patricia Clark," she practically whispered. Ron's eyes immediately went to the boy sitting next to her.
"Martin Sykes." And so it went, until the last person called out their name, and Ron suddenly found that he had exactly 55 minutes left until the bell rang. Bugger.
"Alright, then. Pull out your books, turn to the first page, and start reading. If there are any questions, just raise your hand." Seemed good enough to him. Feeling rather cheerful that he had figured out how to teach, and not actually have to do so, he settled himself at his desk amongst the rustle of pages and picked up his own book. Unfortunately, he only managed to read three paragraphs before deciding whoever had written the book was a moron.
"What a load of bunk!" he exclaimed, throwing the heavy text back on his desk with a thud. The entire class jumped at the unexpected noise. "Let's rethink this. I'm an Auror, and I can tell you that whoever wrote this wouldn't know the difference between a doppelganger and his own arse." A smattering of shocked giggles interrupted him briefly. "So, toss the books, grab your quills, and listen carefully."
And, just like that, as he stared out at the children eagerly hanging on his every word, Ron decided that maybe teaching wasn't so bad after all.
~*~*~
Hermione was not in a foul mood or hung over as she walked into her first morning class. She never even would have considered being anything other than the utmost professional. She was as eager to start her day teaching as she was to find the prankster. She looked at teaching as an opportunity NOT to get teased because she knew so much, and didn't mind sharing it.
She was the epitome of cool calm when she reached her desk and turned to face her class. The students saw a young woman, dressed in a simple, royal blue robe, with her hair twisted into a sleek braid. She smiled warmly at them before she started to speak.
"Good morning class. As you know, I'm Professor Granger, and this is Muggle Studies. This year, we will learn a great deal about Muggles, and since I have Muggles for parents, I can assure you that I will have plenty to share. We will learn all about their customs, history, dress and culture. Notes are required, as I will deal with a lot that is not in the text books. Ask any questions you like, as long as it pertains to the lesson. I will give quizzes weekly, and a test once a month." She ignored the groans that filled the air. No doubt quite a few of them felt that Muggle Studies had been a sure fire high mark. Well, she planned to make them see that there was a lot more to the non-magic world then they first thought. "Now, please open your texts to chapter three. Ms. Parnell, will you start reading?"
The third year Hufflepuff jumped slightly, surprised that Hermione had known her name already. As ever, Hermione liked to be prepared, so she had assigned seats, and memorized the names of everyone she put in those seats.
"Yes, Professor." She said, clearing her throat. "Chapter Three-Muggle vehicles. Motor vehicles, also called cars were invented in the early 20th century by. . ." The other students dutifully read along in their own books. Every now and then, Hermione would indicate that another student should pick up, as well as ask if there were any questions. She was pleased to find that the questions asked were intelligent and thought out, and not in the least bit immature. Now, if the rest of her classes went as well as this, she was sure that her first day would be a success.
When the bell rang to signal the end of session, she called out the homework over the flurry of papers rustling and feet shuffling.
"I want a one parchment essay on what we just read by Monday. Good day."
"Good day, Professor." They murmured in return, waiting to groan about the homework until they were safely out of class. Hermione felt a jolt of pride at how well it had gone, and moved around her desk to get some papers she would need for the next class. She pulled up short when she saw the envelope in the middle of her desk.
Was that there before? She asked herself, reaching out for it. She couldn't be sure, but she didn't think so. Her hand didn't shake this time as she reached for it. Instead, annoyance furrowed her brow and made her frown. She quickly ripped it open and pulled out the half sheet of parchment, her eyes sliding over the single sentence written in the middle.
Not bad for a mudblood.
Anger replaced her annoyance and she ripped the parchment into tiny pieces before she could stop herself. She hadn't heard that term since she'd left Hogwarts. Or, more importantly, since the last time she saw Draco Malfoy, and that hadn't been since sixth year. His father had been outed as a Deatheater by then, plunging the youngest Malfoy into hiding. Nobody had heard from him since. There was some talk that he had joined his father at Voldemort's side, but no one could confirm it. It had appeared that Malfoy had just disappeared.
She could remember the last time she had seen him as clear as day. She had just taken her final round of the third floor, and was heading back to the Gryffindor common room to meet Ron before going to bed. Malfoy had been leaning against one of the statues, his cold, blue eyes trained on her. Neither spoke as she tried to maneuver around him, their eyes meeting briefly when he stepped in her way.
"Move, Malfoy," she'd demanded, her voice as cold as his eyes.
"What's the rush, Granger? Running back to your beggar boyfriend for a snog before bed?" he'd sneered, raking those evil eyes over her. She had barely managed to suppress the shiver of revulsion that raced up her spine as he did so. It hadn't been the first time he'd looked at her that way. It made her sick each time she saw the look of lust burning in his gaze. It seemed Draco Malfoy had no problem wanting to shag a mudblood. He just didn't want to go to school with them. It was that hypocrisy that annoyed Hermione more than anything.
"That's none of your business. Move, or I'll report you." She threatened, arching a brow and giving him her best haughty look.
"What? Little Miss Mudblood is too good to associate with me? That's rich. You should be kissing my balls in gratitude that you're still here."
Hermione's face twisted up in disgust at his vulgar language and at how he'd managed to press close to her without her noticing. She took a step back and managed to stare down her nose at him, despite his height advantage.
"You're vile." She informed him primly and moved again to go around him. An involuntary cry ripped from her throat when his thin, vice like fingers clutched around her arm.
"Watch your mouth." He hissed, his voice low and menacing. Hermione fought against the fear that was trying claw its way up her throat and jerked hard on her arm.
"Let her go, Malfoy." Relief flowed liquidly through her at the sound of Ron's voice behind them. She turned her head to see him standing with legs spread apart, arms crossed over his chest, fire flashing from his eyes.
"What are you going to do if I don't, Weasel?" The grin that spread over the redhead's face sent a shiver of a different kind down Hermione's spine.
"I was hoping you'd say that." The speed with which Ron moved shocked even her. Before either saw it coming, Draco had been ripped away from her, his face bloodied from where Ron's fist had made contact. She stood, staring dumbstruck as the two boys ripped into each other, six years of pent up hate coming to a head right there. She knew that there was something that she should be doing. She was a prefect. She shouldn't be standing there watching them fight. She should be trying to stop it. But the sheer ferocity of it stunned her into stillness.
"MR. WEASLEY, MR. MALFOY! STOP THIS INSTANT!" Professor McGonogall's voice echoed loudly through the corridor, making Hermione's head jerk in that direction. The Transfiguration Professor looked as furious as Hermione had ever seen her. The boys didn't seem to hear her, though. Ron had Draco pinned on the ground and was gleefully sending his fist into the other boys face, repeatedly. The professor scowled and pulled her wand from the folds of her robes. She pointed it at the pair, and with a whispered word, sent them flying in different directions. Ron landed, stunned, against the wall near Hermione, while Draco landed across the hall by the windows. He didn't move once he landed.
"What, may I ask, is going on here? And why, Ms. Granger, were you just watching?" She asked once they were safely separated from each other.
"I'm sorry, Professor. It all happened so fast. . ."
"He was threatening her!" Ron snapped, pushing to his feet. His body practically vibrated with anger as his eyes glared accusingly at Malfoy.
"Done no such thing, Professor. Me and Granger were just talking, when this git jumps me." Malfoy replied hotly, defending himself.
"Is that true, Ms. Granger?" Professor McGonogall asked, peering down her nose at Hermione.
"No, it's not." She answered quickly, ignoring the warning looks Draco was sending her. A smug smile crossed Ron's face. "I was trying to go back to Gryffindor house. He wouldn't let me pass. He grabbed me."
"I see. Well, Mr. Malfoy, you shall come with me to speak to Professor Snape. Accosting a prefect and being out of bed past hours are serious offenses." The professor informed the blonde. Draco was glaring daggers at the two as he turned to follow Professor McGonogall down the hall. "Oh, and Mr. Weasley? I want you in my office FIRST thing in the morning. I feel I need the night to decide your punishment. Fighting in the halls, no matter what the cause, is unacceptable." The Professor called over her shoulder. Ron's smug smile dropped at that.
"My hero." Hermione teased, walking up to him. He gave her and embarrassed grin after she pushed up on her toes to brush a kiss across his mouth.
"Yeah, well. Couldn't let him hurt my girl, could I?" Ron stammered, turning slightly pink.
"Thank you."
Ron just shrugged a shoulder. He took the hand she held out to him and let her lead him down the hall and back to the Gryffindor house. By the next morning, the entire school knew about the fight, pushing Ron up to near hero status amongst the other students. It was shortly after that, that Draco left school.
"This is ridiculous." Hermione said aloud, shaking off the memories of the past. She looked down at the tiny bits of paper in her hand and cursed inwardly. She shouldn't have done that. She would need to tell Harry and Ron about this now. She didn't know if the notes and the pranks were linked, but it seemed a little too much of a coincidence.
"Professor?" She whipped around at the sound of the voice and smiled sheepishly when she realized that a handful of students for her next class were standing in the room staring at her.
"Oh, sorry. Uhm, come in, take your seats. I'll only be a moment." She told them, striding quickly to her office, the pieces of parchment still in her hand. Once there, she closed the door and leaned her forehead against it to calm herself. Then, she moved to the desk and place the remnants of the note on it and pulled out her wand, "Repairus." she murmured, watching as the pieces flipped and turned then reconnected until the note was whole once more. After that, she picked it up, refolded it and put in her pocket. This time, she would tell Ron and Harry about it, and see if they'd received anything like it themselves.
With that decision made, she walked out of the office to greet her next class, pushing the note and her memories away once more.
~*TBC*~
