Chapter 6
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"How can you expect us to enter classes with other students when they have already been here for six years?" Wufei asked, after listening to Dumbledore's continued explanations of their purpose for being here at Hogwarts in the twentieth century.
"Yes, sir, wouldn't that put us at a great disadvantage?" Quatre asked, feeling just a bit excited about the whole idea despite these hurdles.
"Ah, yes it would, but I believe I have come up with something that should work."
"Well, Merlin, let's hear it so we can move on to the actual 'doing' part of this assignment." Duo quipped, completely enthralled with the idea of learning some magic. The other pilots eyed his enthusiastic expression nervously.
"Ah, Headmaster?" Trowa cut in, "We aren't going to learn anything dangerous or explosive are we?"
"Well, yes, some of the spells and potions …"
Dumbledore was interrupted by the collective moan from four of the pilots and the excited yip from Mr. Maxwell. Dumbledore smiled good-naturedly at the pilots age-revealing antics.
"Yes, well as I was saying. I believe I have a way to bring you up to speed with your fellow classmates. This is the first year for us to offer a program of this sort, so I am afraid we may have to work out some kinks here and there."
"Work out a few kinks here and there? That doesn't exactly sound like a rock solid plan there, Mr. Wizard." Despite his earlier enthusiasm, Duo was a little skeptical of trusting their safety to such a vague plan.
"Oh and like you have room to talk, Maxwell? Mr. Let's-run-in-blasting-everything-in-sight-and-ask-questions-later?" Wufei retorted sarcastically.
"Aw c'mon Wufei you know I never do that. I usually make sure all the civilians are out of the way before I start shootin'. And besides I have planned *tons* of missions, and you know it!"
"A plan is *not* locating a base and deciding to blast the hell out of it!!!"
"Sure it is!"
"Enough," Heero said, nodding briefly at Dumbledore.
"Yes. Again, there will be some bumps along the way, but I am sure you boys will be able to handle whatever pops up. Now our seventh year students always spend the year reviewing the last six years in detail, in order to prepare for N.E.W.T.S, Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests. This, of course, will be very beneficial to you all who will be learning the curriculum for the first time.
"However, since none of you have so much as lifted a wand, you will need to learn some basic things before you can participate in the classroom. I have arranged for the five of you to be tutored by a variety of our professors privately for the first three weeks while the other students are reviewing their first year lessons. After the tutorial you will start classes with the other students as they begin their review of second year topics."
"Excuse me sir, but how can you expect us to learn for the first time what other students are merely reviewing?" Trowa asked.
"We are not expecting you all to master any of this. Only to become familiar and comfortable with the talents you possess. At the end of the year you will be given the option to stay and continue your education or return home. Besides, you all *are* Gundam pilots are you not? I expect you learn at a much faster rate than most."
Heero glared at Dumbledore suspiciously, "And how is it you know so much about us?"
"Ah my boy, I know a great many things, about a great many people. Sometimes even it is even too much for me to keep it all inside my head."
Heero continued to glare suspiciously at the aged wizard.
"Hee-chan, he did magically transport us here. He's got to know a lot about us to pull that off. And if he can do something like that, if he was dangerous, I'm sure he would have done us all in by now." Duo pointed out in his own uniquely calm and reassuring way to the easily tensed ex-Wing pilot.
Heero shrugged and deferred to Duo's usually better judgment in these matters. But he would wait to make his own evaluations.
"Earlier you mentioned wands, I am sure there are other supplies we will need as well," Quatre began, "but unfortunately you brought us here with nothing but the clothes on our back."
Trowa coughed suspiciously, eyeing Heero and Duo from the corner of his eyes. Quatre's mouth quirked slightly, but he continued, "So unfortunately we have no money to pay for these things." No one was really surprised that Quatre was the one to think of the money issues.
"Ah I'm glad you brought that up. We often have students who cannot afford tuition or supplies, or simply come from a muggle family that refuses to pay."
"Muggle?" Duo interrupted.
"Non-magical people." Dumbledore provided the quick explanation before continuing. "We have a 'special needs' fund that we use for these types of situations. The school will purchase your first wands for you and most of your school supplies will be hand-me-downs from past students. There is of course a dress code you will need to be fitted for."
"A dress code?!?" Duo exclaimed, looking very pained by the mere idea. "How many time am I going to have to wear a damn uniform? I swear, if I have…"
"Duo, it's not that big a deal. Look at it this way, you still get to use magic." Quatre pointed out.
"But still…"
"Duo… Be quiet."
"Heero… I don't want …" Duo quickly shut up however when he saw the look on Heero's face. No point arguing with that face. Apparently, Heero didn't like the idea either. That made Duo feel better; misery loves company.
"Before we can do anything else, we need to get you all fitted for uniforms and then let Ollivander find you the right wand. Mrs. Snipit here will take your measurements and the house elves will get your uniforms made."
The boys swiveled around in their seats to where Dumbledore had gestured, only there was no one there.
"Up here dears," a cheery, elderly voice called out from a painting just above where the boys were looking.
The boys all refocused their gaze on the moving picture that was talking to them.
"Pick up your jaws up there dears, you'll catch flies. Now we haven't got all day, Mr. Winner, let's start with you. Stand up please!"
Quatre gaped at the wiry figure in the picture. A short elderly lady, in what could only be described as seventeenth century clothes, was looking quite pointedly down at him. She adjusted the bifocals on her nose as she waited for him to stand. Not really knowing what else to do, Quatre stood up as instructed.
"Hold your arms out, yes, that's it," she coached, as he raised his arms. She scribbled something down on the parchment she held then instructed him to turn around. She jotted down a few more numbers before letting him sit back down.
"Okay, Mr. Barton, you next please."
Trowa seemed less shocked than the others, or perhaps he had just resolved not to be surprised by anything that happened while he was here; it was hard to tell. At any rate, he simply stood up as instructed and held his arms up, then watched as she started to scratch measurements onto her parchment. When her quill stopped moving, Trowa turned around and listened as it once again made scratching noises, evidence that Mrs. Snipit's quill was once more in motion. When it stopped the second time Trowa turned and gave a nod to Mrs. Snipit and then returned to his seat.
"Thank you Mr. Barton. Mr. Chang, Mr. Yuy, and Mr. Maxwell can all stand up now. You all seem very similar in build, go on, hold your arms up."
"Lady, how can you possibly know our measurements just by *looking*?" Duo asked, the shock of a talking and moving painting having finally worn off.
"Well dear, I have been taking measurements for close to 250 years. Time and experience are what let me judge your size."
"Oh." Duo didn't have a comeback for that.
Heero smirked. It wasn't everyday he got to see his lover speechless and today it had happened more than once. That was more than he had seen in all his years of knowing the Deathsythe pilot. He was beginning to like this place.
Mrs. Snipit finished and let the boys sit back down.
"Please make sure to tell the house elves that those will need to be done by dinner." Dumbledore said to Mrs. Snipit as she flitted from painting to painting out the door, on her way to find the house elves.
Dumbledore turned back to the boys, "Well, I believe all we have left to do is get you boys your wands. Prof. Hagrid and Prof. Snape should be here to escort you to…"
Dumbledore was interrupted by a knock on the door.
"Ah that must be them now," Dumbledore commented, "Come in," he called out.
The boys once again turned in their seats to see who was behind them, happy to see this time that it was two live people that had just walked in.
"Oh jeeze man! Haven't you ever heard of *shampoo*?"
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Ron's face was redder than the ripest of tomatoes as he gaped at Harry. Every once in awhile, he would screw his face up as if he had taken a large bite out of a very sour lemon, then his mouth would move a bit as if he were trying to say something, but then he would stop and go back to just gaping. Harry didn't know whether or not to be grateful that Hermione was not suffering this affliction. On one hand, she was not acting nearly so useless; on the other, her interrogation bore a suspicious resemblance the Spanish Inquisition.
"Do you think your dreams mean we should try to befriend him?" Hermione asked out loud, more to herself than Harry. "I mean that doesn't seem to make sense, wouldn't befriending Malfoy *attract* You-Know-Who's attention? But then, of course, there is the benefit of all his inside knowledge. On the other hand, there is the chance it is some kind of trap. I'm sure the library…"
"Enough Hermione!" Harry blurted out, hurt by both Ron's apparent rejection and Hermione's stress-induced babbling. The pressure had finally made him snap.
Hermione just looked at Harry as if he had grown another head, he never snapped, not like that. Ron just continued to look at him, although not so blankly as before.
"Look. I don't know what it means. It could be nothing. I can't even be sure the dreams are real premonitions. I think we should just wait and see what happens." He said trying to calm down some.
"But Harry, we should be prepared …"
"So Harry, if they aren't *real* premonitions, *why* are you dreaming about *Malfoy*?" Ron interrupted.
"I don't know Ron, I'm sorry, I just *don't* know!" Harry said, beginning to loose his patience once again.
"But Harry…" Ron and Hermione started at the same time.
"ARGH!" Harry exclaimed, throwing up his hands. Fed up and stressed out, he stood and walked to the door, "I'm taking a walk. I'll be back in a bit." He said before walking out the door.
Once out in the hall, Harry walked to the end of the train car and saw that the last compartment looked empty. He opened the door and walked in. Once inside, he slid the door shut and locked it. He then slumped down on the bench seat with a weary sigh.
He let out another loud sigh, half groan as he banged his head on the glass window, wishing his troublesome thoughts away.
"Well, well, if it isn't the famous Harry Potter," an all too familiar voice drawled from the shadowed seat across from Harry.
Harry seriously wondered why his damn premonitions couldn't warn him about *these* awkward moments in advance so he could start trying to avoid them.