Inscribed in Air & Fire
~ An HP fanfic by Snape Ophelia ~
Chapter 2
The next morning found Annwyd optimistic. She had fallen asleep immediately after the feast, and felt better for a good night's sleep. She had hardly eaten a bite the day before, but when a house elf delivered her breakfast tray, her appetite returned with a vengeance.
Most importantly, she had survived the first night, and today's "demonstration" was more to her liking than last night's welcoming ceremony. For one thing, there would be a small group rather than hundreds of people. Also, she would be able to use her talents—was, for once, actually being asked to use them rather than being reprimanded—and that brought a certain level of confidence.
The wand on her bedside table filled her with a moment of self-reproach when it caught her eye, but today's task was something she could do. She was dressed and ready when her escort arrived.
At first, she tried to concentrate on the twists and turns they followed to reach the staff room, but after a while she decided that her attention was best focused on the meeting and her plans for the demonstration. She could ask someone for directions back to her room.
Many of the teachers were already seated in the staff room when she arrived and the others trailed in soon after. Dumbledore went through the introductions. The only surprise was finding out that Hagrid was teaching Care of Magical Creatures—an interesting turn of events—but the others were familiar. Lupin and de Bois she had met last night and the older professors she remembered from her time as a student.
A quick glance across the room assured her that the number of people was manageable—less than twenty altogether. She felt a sharp flash of hostility from McGonagall, but other than that the atmosphere was neutral, a mixture of morning sleepiness and mild curiosity.
After the introductions and a few pleasantries, Dumbledore stood and cleared his throat.
"Thank you all for coming," he said pleasantly. "We have several items on our agenda today, but I believe we will start with our new instructor, Miss Annwyd Gwir. Many of you have questions or concerns about the addition of Glamour Casting to our curriculum. Some of these have been discussed already and a few important decisions have been reached."
Annwyd thought his eyes went to McGonagall at this point.
"Some of your questions, however, I have asked you to postpone until the arrival of our new instructor. On many points, she will be more qualified than I to answer your questions. And happily she has agreed to perform a demonstration for our benefit. So, if you are ready, Annwyd, I will give you the floor."
Annwyd rose and moved to the front of the room. She let her gaze pan the assembled professors, but only made eye contact with Dumbledore, Lupin, and Sprout—the faces that seemed most likely to be supportive.
"Thank you, headmaster. I am happy to be able to give a demonstration and answer whatever questions I can. First, perhaps, I should ask how much you already know about Glamours."
"I for one know fairly little," volunteered Lupin. "I was not present for whatever discussions have already taken place…. Perhaps you should start with the basics."
"Very well," said Annwyd. "In a word, glamours are—"
"Deceits," said McGonagall. Another cold flash from the Transfigurations Professor.
"Yes," said Annwyd, keeping her voice steady. "They are sometimes called deceits. They are also referred to as cantrips, faerie visions, enchantments of appearance, and other names as well. The word I had in mind though, was illusions. In brief, the art of Casting a Glamour is the art of making something appear different than it is."
She paused. Lupin and Dumbledore nodded. The others remained impassive.
"Glamours are produced with the voice or the hands. They do not require wands or enchanted objects. If no one has any objection, I will start with hand-castings and show you a few of the varieties." No one objected and she continued. "One of the easier castings one can perform is the alteration of an existing thing's appearance. This can be done with inanimate objects, plants, beasts, or persons. Perhaps someone would be so kind as to select an object in the room…?"
There was a pause, then Hagrid pushed forward an empty chair. "This do?"
"Certainly. Thank you, Hagrid."
She considered the chair for an instant—it was plain, wooden, and scratched with much use—then focused on the vision she wished to create and sketched a figure in the air with her left hand. The chair remained exactly where it was, but rather than an unadorned desk chair, it now seemed to belong in a 19th-century French salon. The legs and back were carved in delicate Rococo designs and shimmered with reddish-gold gilt. The seat was cushioned and covered in mauve velvet.
"Rather gaudy," remarked Annwyd, "but you get the point."
The professors regarded the salon chair. "Transfiguration without a wand?" asked the new herbology teacher, du Bois.
"It is not Transfiguration," snapped McGonagall. "The chair remains the same as it always was."
"That is true," replied Annwyd, with a hint of strain in her voice, though she had managed not to flinch at the slap of energy. "The chair is the same as before. It only appears to be different." She moved her right hand and the original chair was again revealed. "Similar effects can be produced on people." She scanned the audience. "Will anyone volunteer for a…new look?"
"Why not?" said Dumbledore. "I've had this one for the last eighty years or so…perhaps I could do with a change." This produced a few chuckles.
"The effects," explained Annwyd, "can be subtle or dramatic, as you wish." She gestured Dumbledore forward and he joined her at the front of the room. "I could, for example, keep your physical appearance largely in tact while altering small things to create a different emotional impression."
And, true to her word, Dumbledore instantly looked enraged and menacing. The onlookers flinched back from his sudden projection of sheer malice.
Annwyd cut off the glamour after only a few seconds, and Dumbledore said, somewhat ruefully, "From the reaction of our colleagues, I must assume that was not a change for the better."
"Well, Headmaster," she replied diplomatically, "in terms of the demeanor you project, there is little room for improvement," he acknowledged the flattery with a nod and a twinkle, "so I thought a change for the worse would be more impressive."
"But," Annwyd continued, "I might also preserve the emotional persona while changing purely physical characteristics."
She traced the air once again, and in place of Dumbledore was an old woman. Her clothing was somewhat similar to McGonagall's, though her silvery hair was loose and a bit untidy. Her expression, however, retained the pleasant warmth of Dumbledore's and her eyes held the same wisdom and glint of amusement.
"And finally," said Annwyd, "I might produce a more radical illusion."
Her fingers worked quickly and—with a rather satisfying gasp from someone in the audience—Dumbledore was gone and two identical Annwyds faced each other.
Dumbledore looked down at the small female hands extending from his moss-green robes.
"Remarkable," he said in a voice identical to Annwyd's. "And a good deal less trouble than Polyjuice Potion."
She restored Dumbledore's normal appearance. "Thank you, Headmaster, for your assistance."
"Instructor, a question if you don't mind."
Annwyd saw that the speaker was Professor Flitwick, the head of her house when she had been a Ravenclaw. She had thus far avoided meeting his gaze. He had not been angry at her when her…deceits came to light, not like Professor McGonagall. He had merely been very disappointed. And that was hard to face in a different way.
"Can these glamours be cast on yourself as well as another?"
She managed a brief nod in his direction, then addressed her answer to the room in general.
"They can indeed."
She was, in fact, more practiced at glamouring herself than others, so the following display was lightning fast—she aged to an ancient crone, shrank to a skinny girl, sparkled with the beauty of a goddess, towered over them as Hagrid, and finally turned into a birch tree. She allowed them to gawk at the tree for a moment and then dropped the glamour.
"As a matter of fact," she added, once her normal form was restored, "they can be performed on anyone, or even with no subject at all. That is the second type of hand-casting I planned to show you: creating the illusion of something where nothing is present. It is somewhat more difficult and requires more practice than changing the appearance of a real object, but if done correctly the results can be just as convincing."
She gestured at the door and it seemed to open. Through it stepped Professor McGonagall, a twin to the McGonagall in the audience. The McGonagall at the door surveyed the room with prim disapproval and raised an eyebrow. "What, pray tell, is the meaning of this, Miss Gwir?" said the apparition in McGonagall's voice.
Hagrid coughed and Annwyd thought that Lupin was suppressing a chuckle. The real Transfigurations Professor went absolutely rigid, and Annwyd quickly dropped the rather unflattering glamour.
Well, she thought, perhaps I did make her a bit more tight-lipped than was strictly necessary…but not much.
"A form of magic useful for spying no doubt," said the real professor. Her tone made it clear it was not a compliment.
"It could have that use," Annwyd replied levelly. "But it is also quite helpful for self-defense. Perhaps I could have another volunteer?"
There was a pause that stretched out uncomfortably. Annwyd felt a sinking sensation in her stomach. I thought I was impressing them, but maybe they're actually scared…or repulsed. She started to do a reading on the room, but just then Lupin got to his feet.
"Being the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, I suppose a request related to self-defense should be my cue."
She smiled gratefully.
"Thank you, Professor. If you could stand over there, next to the door…. Now in just a second, I'd like you to throw a hex at me."
She turned to face the others.
"Let us suppose that I am without a wand for some reason." No real need to mention, she added to herself, how little good a wand would be if I had one. "Or perhaps I feel that normal wand-cast spells are likely to be countered by my opponent. In such a situation, most witches or wizards become as defenseless as Muggles. But that need not be the case."
She turned back to Lupin.
"Fire away."
Lupin raised his wand. At the same instant a giant bat—its leathery wings spanning a dozen feet—flew shrieking towards the Defense Professor. Instinctively, his attention leaped to the apparition and the hex meant for Annwyd flew harmlessly into the bat. Lupin had already flung a second spell at the monster before realizing that curses would have no effect. After all, the bat wasn't really there. Ignoring the shrieking, flapping thing with an effort, he scanned the room searching for his real target. In the seconds of confusion, however, Annwyd had disguised herself as a chair.
The monstrous bat winked out of existence. She allowed the teachers to look around for a moment, failing to find her.
Shrugging off the glamour, she said, "Thank you, Professor Lupin."
Lupin grinned and made a bow in her direction. "Very effective."
Annwyd returned the smile, feeling pleased with herself. She was however also beginning to tire. She seldom did so many castings in a short space of time—and for a fair number of people—and the bat had been rather difficult. Her energy level was noticeably depleted.
"Well," she said, trying not to sound weary, "that should give you some idea of the range of hand-cast glamours. Perhaps now some of you have questions…."
She felt a little shaky on her feet and allowed herself to lean back on the long table behind her.
"Yes," said an older witch whose name Annwyd couldn't quite remember. Professor Vector perhaps. "I am wondering about the general principles that make these glamours work. I have tried throughout the summer to find some theoretical information, but the search has been rather fruitless. The library seems to contain almost nothing on the subject."
"That is not surprising," said Annwyd. "Most of the secrets of Glamour Casting were never written down. Unlike some forms of magic, glamours cannot be learned from books. They must be learned in person, from a teacher. And then in the early 1800s…well, I'm sure you're aware of the history. The books that did exist were either hidden or destroyed."
"A regrettable loss," said Vector. "The books should have been kept even if they were restricted." She shook her head and muttered about the something something Ministry under her breath. "At any rate perhaps you can confirm or deny the theory I was trying to research. I am guessing that your glamours are created with light and air. You are manipulating the air to create sound waves and bending the light to create pictures. Am I correct?"
"A worthy guess, Professor, but I'm afraid that your suggestion would be far beyond my skills. I believe there are certain kinds of enchantments that work more or less as you describe," she looked to Dumbledore, who nodded in confirmation, "but I understand that they create only fairly simple effects."
"Voices can be carried rather effectively," Dumbledore added, "with projection charms and so on. Some work can be done with light, but nothing so complex as you have shown us."
"How is it done then?" asked Flitwick.
"The effects," said Annwyd, "are entirely in the mind. The Glamour Caster leaves the physical world around her untouched and changes only the way the world is experienced. Rather than manipulating objects—including light and air—the glamours manipulate the 'subtle bodies' of conscious beings. They work directly on the energies of thought."
"Mind control," said McGonagall darkly.
"In a manner of speaking, yes, that is correct."
"Instructor Gwir," said Professor Sprout, "I had always imagined that glamours were only visual, but your illusions seem to speak…and shriek." She gave a little shudder. Sprout was apparently not fond of bats. "Can you work these deceits on all the senses?"
"Visual illusions are easiest to produce and can generally be the most detailed, but the other senses can be fooled as well. I am not very talented at taste and smell, though I have heard that some of the great Glamour Casters of the past could replicate the taste and aroma of a particular vintage of wine well enough to fool a connoisseur. Myself, I can only produce simple, strong smells and very little in the way of flavors."
Rallying her energy, she focused her mind. Odors required strict concentration. For a few seconds, the smell of cinnamon wafted through the room. Then it was gone, too difficult to sustain.
"I'm afraid that's the best I can manage."
Sprout nodded, apparently satisfied.
"What of the sense of touch?" asked a low, cool voice. Professor Snape, speaking for the first time.
Here it comes, thought Annwyd. One of the topics she had been dreading. And it certainly didn't help that the question came from Snape. He intimidated her almost as much as McGonagall. At one time, the Potions Master had unquestionably been her most dreaded professor. McGonagall had only usurped that role because her dislike was directed very pointedly and personally at Annwyd. Snape simply disliked everyone.
"The sense of touch," she said, in what she hoped was a suitably professorial tone, "can also be glamoured. It is, however…complicated. For one thing, it is rather misleading to speak about the sense of touch. There are actually a number of tactile senses. They detect warmth, cold, resistance, weight, texture, balance…and so on. Isolated sensations are fairly easy, a feeling of cold, for instance. But normal tactile experiences involve many different factors at once. It therefore requires an advanced glamour to replicate, for example, the apparently simple sensation of holding a book in one's hands."
You could just leave it at that for now, she thought. But then she decided to plunge ahead. The other matter would come up sooner or later.
"There is also another…issue involved. Many Glamour Casters over the years have refused to engage in tactile illusions at all." She drew a breath. "That particular…avenue of work…is most closely associated with the Dark Arts. It is, in fact, one of the reasons Glamour Casting was banned, outlawed altogether for many years."
"I'm not sure I understand," said Clarice du Bois.
"Crucio, I imagine," said Snape.
For several long seconds, everyone in the room seemed to hold their breath. The word Crucio, harshly spoken, hung in the air long after Snape had finished speaking. But Annwyd was somehow grateful that he had said it rather than she. For an instant, her eyes met his and were locked in place by that dark unreadable gaze. She managed to look away and forced her lungs to continue working.
"Yes," she said quietly. "Although the exact origins of the curse are now forgotten, there is much speculation that it came from a melding of wand-work and glamour. Glamour Casting, as I said, works directly on the energies of the mind. That, of course, is one of its advantages. It is much simpler to convince you that you see a giant bat where none exists than to actually create one out of nothing. By the same principle, however, the magic is especially well-suited to the creation of more…intense sensations…than could be achieved by traditional spells alone."
"Are you saying," asked McGonagall, "that the Cruciatus Curse is merely a type of illusion?"
"Not entirely, no. The curse does affect the physical body in the way of other wand-cast spells. That is why there are physical after-effects. But, using traditional wand-cast magic alone, the curse would create pain in proportion to injury. It would cause sensations by damaging body tissue, just as happens when a person is burned or cut. The incorporation of glamour in the wand-cast spell…that allows the caster to intensify the sensation while keeping the actual physical damage minimal."
This explanation was greeted with silence. Annwyd felt tired and slightly sick. The room seemed to have darkened imperceptibly as her listeners withdrew into their own thoughts. Looking out at faces of her new colleagues—faces now troubled and closed—she wanted to shout or plead with them. It's not my fault. I didn't invent the curse. And you already knew it existed and knew what it did. It's no worse than it was before just because I explained it.
Dumbledore was the first to break the silence. She was grateful that his voice remained mild. "Is there anything else related to…this particular topic…that we should be made aware of, Annwyd?"
She wanted very much to say no. In fact, she wanted nothing more than to bolt through the door and hide somewhere, preferably somewhere far away from Hogwarts. But the worst was over, and she might as well finish it. That was certainly better than going through a similar scene in the future.
"That is almost everything, Headmaster. But perhaps you should know that…it is perhaps likely that…" She found herself stumbling over her words and paused to collect herself, then continued a bit more firmly. "The Imperius Curse is probably also a bonded form of wand-casting and glamouring. Both of the Unforgivable Curses appeared at roughly the same time in history, and they could have been created from similar principles."
"But the Imperius Curse is about making people do things, not making them feel artificial sensations or see illusions. They know what they're really doing—they just can't help it." Again it was the new Assistant Herbologist who voiced this lack of understanding, and again it was Professor Snape who answered her.
"Pleasure," said the Potions Master.
Du Bois looked blank and Snape made an irritated gesture, one which Annwyd remembered from his classroom. He had always been impatient with anyone whose grasp was slower than his. "Imperio works on the will as well as the body. Some physical force can be applied, but the real work of the curse is in lowering its victim's powers of resistance. If an outside force tries to control the actions of the body, the mind will instinctively fight the intrusion. The curse makes submission…more pleasant."
Annwyd nodded but could think of nothing she cared to add.
"Well," said Dumbledore after another long moment of silence. "Perhaps it is time to turn to another topic. Instructor Gwir looks as if she could use a moment of respite."
~*~
Annwyd returned to her seat gratefully. There were other things she would need to explain and demonstrate eventually, but she was, as Dumbledore said, in need of a break. The rest of her demonstrations should be easier and less controversial, but they would go better after she'd had a chance to replenish her energy stores.
The next hour or so was mostly devoted to discussion of magical plants. Professor Sprout had plans to import several exotic species which had never before been successfully grown in England. There were a number of questions, mainly from Professor Snape, who would no doubt wish to use the plants for his potions, and from Hagrid, who apparently helped Sprout to maintain her greenhouses in addition to his duties as teacher and Groundskeeper.
None of this concerned Annwyd directly, so she was able to let her mind drift.
Once Sprout had answered everyone's questions to their satisfaction, the matters of herbology seemed to be settled. There were a few announcements related to classroom allocation, textbooks, and a last-minute change in the seventh year students' schedules.
"Before we break for lunch," said Dumbledore as the hour approached noon, "there is one other rather important announcement regarding the three newest members of our faculty."
Annwyd sat up straighter to show she was paying attention. The others were all listening politely.
"Most of you are aware of the tragic occurrences last year involving Moody and Crouch."
There were somber nods and unhappy murmurs from most of the teachers which indicated that they were in fact aware of the incidents, but Annwyd had no idea what he was talking about. Her confusion must have been visible, because Dumbledore studied her briefly and then continued.
"Shortly after agreeing to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts here at Hogwarts, Alastor Moody was abducted by Barty Crouch, Jr., who then spent the year posing as Moody, aided by steady infusions of Polyjuice Potion. The consequences were…." He shook his head. His voice took on a deep note of sadness. "Alas, regrettable is far too weak a word. Crouch worked on behalf of Lord Voldemort. A student was killed, and much other damage was done as well. I fear that we are living in dark times."
Annwyd was thoroughly shocked by these revelations. She had heard something in the Daily Prophet about the accidental death of a student at Hogwarts, but Dumbledore's tone implied murder. And what was this about Voldemort? Wasn't the Dark Lord long dead, or at least irrevocably defeated?
"The Ministry, as you are no doubt aware, has not released the full account to the public. They are reluctant to accept the reality of Voldemort's return and insist that Crouch must have been working alone. They cannot deny, however, that a Death Eater escaped from Azkaban, impersonated an Auror, and wreaked much havoc at Hogwarts. Though Cornelius Fudge," Dumbledore's tone now took on a sharper edge, "refuses to aid us in destroying the root of this evil, he is more than willing to demand stricter security at Hogwarts…to prevent another 'isolated madman' from appearing in our midst, presumably."
The assembled teachers waited expectantly, wondering where this was leading.
"The Ministry is demanding that all new Hogwarts staff must work under the strict supervision of a senior faculty member, specifically, under the supervision of one of the heads of houses."
There was a discontented murmuring from McGonagall, Snape, and Flitwick. Only Sprout seemed unphased.
"I know," said Dumbledore, raising a hand for quiet. "As the head of a Hogwarts House, each of you have many responsibilities already. However, we must pick our battles wisely."
Flitwick's expression was weary. McGonagall looked indignant. And a sudden wave of fury radiating from Snape's side of the room told Annwyd not to glance at the Potions Master.
"In many ways," Dumbledore continued, "the Ministry goes its way and we go ours. But we cannot afford to sever our ties entirely, and we cannot dig in our heels, so to speak, on matters that are less than critical. Of course it is not my wish to overburden you. To that end, you will each be assigned a seventh year student as an assistant. These assistants should lighten your workload somewhat by taking over some of the more mundane tasks of teaching, freeing you to supervise our newest staff."
"Headmaster," said Lupin, "am I to be included in this…project? I have, after all, taught at Hogwarts before."
"I'm afraid so, Remus. As I said, the Ministry is quite insistent, and I feel that it is not worth a fight. But I'm sure your supervising professor will keep your experience in mind."
"And who shall be supervising whom?" asked McGonagall.
"Professor Sprout, I believe it is obvious that you will be working with Miss du Bois. She is here, after all, as your assistant."
"Of course, Albus," Sprout replied. "We would be working closely in any event. So no student assistant will be required—unless a student is eager for the experience."
"Thank you. I will bear that in mind," nodded Dumbledore. "Professor Flitwick will be excused from this particular duty. He has, as you might have heard, other business to attend to this year which will require him to be away from Hogwarts frequently."
Flitwick nodded with relief but Annwyd's heart sank. It had been obvious that Sprout would be paired with du Bois, which had left her hoping desperately for Flitwick. McGonagall or Snape. Good gods.
"Minerva, I would like you to work with Remus. And Severus, that will leave you in charge of Annwyd. Your cooperation is greatly appreciated. And now, I believe it is time for lunch."