Minor plot hole with Quirrell knowing who Vetinari is but I'm basing it on the fact that he was pissed enough to do research whereas the seventh years really just didn't care. Pssst - this has nothing to do with any other Quirrell stuff I've written.
And to anyone that can actually see where my bad influence is drifting into the Patrician's words of infinite wisdom then I guess you know the situation and gosh darn it - wasn't it funny?! For the rest of you... It's ok, you really had to be there. I'd tell you the situation but the big bad defamation laws might come and kick my arse.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Unfortunately. I'd like it to be but then again I might actually have to put more effort into things if it was.
Bugger that for a lark.
Thanks: Faith. And Panzergal 'cos she's a little sweetie.
Again to Georgina for re-beta-ing after ff.net deleted all my work, possibly because there was big words.
___
Chapter One: Culling The Herd
All the seventh years had been ordered to attend a class that most of them thought had no particular value of any sort other than to waste more of their precious time in which they could be trying to spend with their current partners, trying to find partners - or any of the other outside activities that they would prefer to be doing. After all - who would want to spend more time in a classroom than necessary...
Other than an ambitious Ravenclaw or two.
The entirety of the seventh years filed into the class, each in their own segregated little groups and trying to ignore each other as much as possible. The tension in the room was thicker than the collective Hufflepuffs that attended the school - forty students from four different houses, each with different social standings and beliefs in one room did not make a pretty picture.
It was like watching that time when a spell thrown by Frank Longbottom at a random Slytherin who had insulted his parentage, had backfired and stripped the headmaster down to his underwear.
A nightmarish experience to which none really wanted to repeat.
Naturally suspicious of each other's loyalties, the tension finally came to a head when a volley of insults was thrown back and forth across the room by a group of Gryffindor boys and another group of Slytherin boys. No-one, of course, noticed the new figure enter the room - who was now standing at the front of the room watching the boys throw insult after insult at each other with a bemused look on his face. Once they drew their wands the figure decided to intervene.
"Ahem."
Forty pair of eyes turned to look at the commanding presence at the front of the room.
He was tall and thin, dressed all in black with pale angular features. The thing that made him stand out was the simple yet elegant ivory cane he was holding. Those that were close enough to the living statue that stared through them with ice blue eyes were amazed at silence and grace he held in his poise.
The collective silent thought running in the classroom currently was whether or not this man was in fact a vampire. Almost as if he was able to read their minds he put that thought to rest.
"I am afraid you are mistaken." he said in a silky tone. "I am not a vampire as the majority of you seem to think. Merely a man here to teach you a few of life's lessons." Then he smiled. The smile suggested several things, the main being that all should be wary of this man and it would be wise not to test his patience... Then again there was the unnerving calm that his presence commanded.
The door creaked open and all eyes turned to the disturber of eerie calm in the room.
"Hello children." Albus Dumbledore said cheerfully. "I see you've met your new tutor for Political Studies. May I present to you Lord Havelock Vetinari, Patrician of the fine city of Ankh-Morpork."
You could almost hear the crickets chirping as not one of the class of forty knew where or what Ankh-Morpork was - apart from the already obviously stated city. Vetinari on the other hand stroked his beard in a rather bemused sort of way. Dumbledore continued with his failed introduction in order to capture some interest in the subject. It wasn't until Vetinari interrupted with "This class will commence soon and it will be upon my judgement to whether or not the rest of you will survive this first lesson. I like to call this... Culling the herd." The smile after that had the class subconsciously move closer together in a semblance of unity in a 'oh dear God this bloke's a madman I hope he doesn't kill us' kind of way.
Dumbledore noted that this was probably the first and last time that this sort of thing would ever happen unless Lord Vetinari's words made an impact on the impressionable young minds before him. He said a few more words and then made an exit, leaving the Patrician alone with a group of young adults fighting their way through to maturity.
"So children." emphasising the point that they were lesser than he. "I think we should begin with taking the class roll. Don't you?" He smiled again. The cynicism was more than evident. Taking a seat at the desk he pulled a parchment from his sleeve and began to read out a list, each name he called was answered with a "here" and then the next and so forth. At the end of the list Vetinari looked up and began to speak.
"The names that you will address me by is Lord Vetinari or sir, I prefer not to use your terms of Professor as I am not one as such. As your headmaster has so ineloquently informed you, I am here to teach you about the finer art of political diplomacy in these hard times. Your world is seeped in chaos and I am here to make that chaos more proficient. You children have a variety of choices at your disposal and you should utilise your potential as much as you can. Under my tutelage you will learn about the history of the two worlds called into question at this time, the differences between the ideologies and finally the key idea that surrounds everything that you will learn. Political assassination. The reason why all of you were called here is because I wanted to get an idea of what the next generation has to offer this world. As I stated before, this session is to cull the herd. Separate the weak from strong. Is there any questions?"
A few hands went up, mainly those that belonged to the Slytherins and the Ravenclaws. The odd Gryffindor hand was up, but none of the Hufflepuffs dared to question him, he noted. Picking a student that looked remarkably like himself he allowed the boy to speak.
"You keep using the term your world sir." the spoke, his voice as soft and as silky as the man's. "I was wondering where you were from."
"Severus Snape if I am not mistaken." he waited for the nod to confirm his correct assumption and then continued. "You are sharp in your observations are you not. A careful eye for the inner detail. No doubt the rest of your fellow classmates were thinking along the same lines."
Nervous movement suggested otherwise however.
The Patrician continued his answer. "I am not from this world as such and nor am I from your Muggle world." He left it at that. It more than explained his identity... If one was able to see through the ambiguity.
Snape accepted the answer without further question, as did the rest of the Slytherins and the Ravenclaws. They all looked as if they had a secret communication going on between them as the dawning of recognition drew over their slightly confused features, a couple of the Gryffindors seemed to understand the ambiguity of the situation as well - the rest kept the blank look that came with stupidity written on their faces but did not question the answer. They really couldn't say anything to something they didn't really comprehend.
Mentally, Vetinari was compiling a list of students that would be removed from his class. Most of them were Hufflepuffs funnily enough.
Looking at the other house he could remove as potential imbeciles from he noted carefully that he ought to keep a couple of them there because they could keep the class interesting for the rest of them. The Hufflepuffs were unworthy to warrant his attention as they were too afraid to even look at him without cringing when he stared back. Although in addition to the few Gryffindors that he would be keeping maybe a Hufflepuff or two would be worth...
A note appeared on his desk, it listed several names that he had been instructed to keep in the class no matter what. Amongst them were two Hufflepuffs. Bones and Abbott, no doubt the offspring of the board members that Dumbledore had so efficiently dealt with. He was not pleased with this order, he was used to providing suggestions which were obeyed rather than following the orders of the man who had no fluent idea of how to deal with people and get you want without giving away all your cards in one sitting.
Under these names were the helpful suggestion of Lily Evans and Peter Pettigrew - a couple of Gryffindors that looked like they truly belonged in Hufflepuff rather than the house they had been sorted into.
He had seen these two when he had called the list. The Pettigrew boy seemed to lack something called a spine and the Evans girl looked as if she would be trouble. Lessons would be interesting. Very interesting indeed.
He randomly picked another student from the many before him and answered the question before they'd even asked.
"How did you do that sir?"
"Do what Mister Ashlon?"
"What you just did sir."
"I have no clue as to what you are talking about boy. Now does anyone else have anything to say or shall we continue on with even more meaningless drivel that most of you couldn't care less about?"
A few hands rose and then hesitantly fell back to their owner's laps as they realised what the Patrician had actually said. Most of them were not slow as such; most of them just hadn't been played with in such a manner. Mostly it was simple black and white - you were either right or wrong, good or bad in class. This however seemed to offer the opportunity for a multitude of different shades of grey which faded into either of the opposite tones - it all depended on which course one took.
The rest were just thick however, and couldn't cope with the big words.
"So children." he said as he sat behind his desk. "Where exactly should I begin? I could start with the course right now and see which ones of you I should keep and which ones of you should be tossed back to the arms of the general population. I have given you the outlook for the course, yes but for now I think we should look at why you are here. Tell me, Mister Pettigrew. Why are you here exactly?"
"S-Sir?" the boy questioned in reply. "I don't understand the question as such... Perhaps if you..."
"If I phrase differently then perhaps you will be able to grasp the finer concept of what I asked? Of course Mister Pettigrew - after all, you aren't here to think are you, you have teachers to do that for you instead. What I have asked you to do is simple." Vetinari stroked his beard lightly before continuing. "I want you to tell me why you are here at this school, why you are here in this class and why you are here representing this house. Take the questions in any order you feel fit to Mister Pettigrew."
The boy nodded and stood. He drew in a remarkably large breath and then exhaled slowly, his rolls jiggling with the movement. "Well sir. I'm at this school because I received a letter and I am from a Pure Blood family so it was expected of me to get a letter because of the magic in my blood sir. It would have been a disgrace for me not to get in..." The boy paused as he looked at the impassive face of the Patrician before deciding to continue, albeit with a tone of dread and reluctance in his voice. "I'm in Gryffindor because I'm... I'm brave sir..." At this point Pettigrew looked ready to burst into tears but continued on with his answer. "The sorting hat put me in this house because it thought it would be best for me and it showed where my true talents lay.... The reason that I am in this class is because I was told to be here. Sir."
"Bravo with your answer Mister Pettigrew, although I still believe you have failed to grasp the simple concept of an objective answer rather than a subjective one."
Titters ran amidst the students as the face of their current spokesman fell. Most of them knew what the Patrician was referring too - the rest however were laughing as it was not them in the hot seat so they had nothing to worry about...
As of yet.
"Tell me Mister Avery, what exactly did I mean when I asked Mister Pettigrew to explain his presence here."
"What I believe you asked Mister Pettigrew to explain sir, is what he felt his options were rather than what was expected of him." a deep voice responded in a more than smug tone. "I am of course basing my answer on what you have so far said about the course and my general intuition about the course itself. Would I be correct in my assumptions sir?"
"Yes Mister Avery you would. This course as some of you may have gathered, is not based on what is on offer for you - it is about the choices you have before you. This is what politics is based upon, what you make of life around you is what you make your life to be and most importantly - what steps you take to get to your position in life that you strive to take."
The Patrician clasped his hands together and looked at the class before him yet again. One half of the group looked like a bunch of trapped mice who were just dying to escape the clutches of the mad cat with the warning bell around its neck while the other half seemed to be favouring the cat and would not do a damn thing to save the mouse. This is what life was all about, the weak and the strong. The strength in this seventh group lay with those smart enough not to be caught as cannon fodder for the war that lay ahead - hidden behind the protective arms of their parents and this school. Most of them possessed an innate quality of naivety that they would never really loose. They took the literal meaning of everything, rather than the imposed suggestion of nothing, to heart. Every single person in this room had potential for greatness, for the most part however - not one of them wanted to utilise what they had to offer...
These were the sort of children that would never survive in the traditional archaic society that was his own. For the most part, he could blame this on the parents, but if the children were not willing to make a stand... Inwardly he sighed - he had a lot of work to do and such little time to do it in.
"Let us continue." he said. "Tell me what you think you know about politics. What is this war about? Why are the people fighting? Where exactly does personal preference come into this and where exactly does it end? Miss Evans. Please begin."
The red-haired girl began as he had expected her too, with the perfunctory answer that no doubt every child bought up in the wizarding world, and those that arrived here by accident - no matter which side their parents supported - was expected to give. The war was about conquering the evil that was currently defiling - her own words no less - the wizarding world with hate and the promise of genocide.
"So what you are saying Miss Evans, is that this war is based upon xenophobic tendencies of one aspect of wizarding culture to a group that has been denied all knowledge of magic?"
"Er, yes sir."
Vetinari stroked his beard once and continued to look at the girl. "Tell me Miss Evans, what do you think of the policies that involve the Muggle society. The ones that have been instituted by your Ministry of Magic for the so called protection of Muggles."
The Patrician had assumed by the girl's house and her... delightful stance when reciting the answer he had asked of her, that Lily Evans was in fact a Muggle-born student of Hogwarts. He was correct in this assumption when her next words revealed her background and her heritage.
"Well sir. I think that the policies are good because they protect Muggles, such as my parents from the dangers that accompany the magic in our world."
"So you condone the state of perpetual denial, and what about the tactics used by the Ministry of Magic - do you condone those also?"
"Er, sir? I don't really know what you mean... I mean, the Ministry does all that it can to keep those without magic safe..."
"But what about the tactics Miss Evans. What is it you wizards have here? The 'Obliviate' spell is it? I have heard that your Ministry has had to use it quite frequently with the infringements made into your world by Muggles. I have also heard that over time the effects of this spell can cause permanent damage if used over a long period of time - but then again I suppose this is true of any spell, is it not?"
"But sir. That isn't the point. The Ministry does its best..."
"But at what price to all concerned Miss Evans?"
The girl looked like she was about to respond as her mouth opened and a slight noise emitted from her. Then there was nothing. She shut her mouth and a helpless look washed over her.
Snape put his hand up and the Patrician nodded his assent for the Slytherin to speak.
"I believe that it all comes down to what the offer is at hand sir. Let the Muggle die or prevent it from harm. The best option being for the purveyor of the scene to use a spell to protect the Muggles' interests."
"And we all know how you wouldn't condemn any Muggle - don't we Snape. Your interests are only for the best - aren't they Snape?" a nasty voice hissed from across the room.
"Shut up Black - you know nothing."
The Patrician noted the conflict between the two. He would have encouraged it but he wanted to encourage Snape's thoughts further. Black was officially on his list, the headmaster had not deemed him worthy enough to keep so why should he.
"Mister Black, I do believe that I did not address the question to you so I think it would be in your best interests to refrain yourself from making comment unless asked to do so. So Mister Black, what are your thoughts on the spells used to keep Muggles at bay?"
The black-haired boy stood up with a cocky smirk on his face. "I think they're for the best sir. Can't have those dark wizards killing off those that can't defend themselves." At this point he turned and inclined his head towards Malfoy, Snape, Wilkes, Avery, McNair and several other of the boys and the girls that were clustered over to that side of the class room. They were all of Slytherin decent.
Ire flashed across the Slytherin faces but none of them did anything about it - Vetinari however knew that after the class had finish and all were able to perform whatever they wanted - Black would be easy bait for them. No doubt the boy would end up in the hospital wing with a hex or two behind him. It reminded him of his old school days with the houses contentions that each of the subdivisions held - not only the subdivisions but also the conflicts between the age groups also. It bought back such fond memories and no doubt when these boys and girls looked back on these days - they'd see how lucky they were. Most discrepancies in the Assassins Guild were dealt with by public humiliation or to greater extent - inhuming.
The playground here was a child's one - the one he had grown up in was a man's one.
Once outside these doors they would become men and women, and the hexes would become real...
"Mister Black, I do believe that your personal disregard for the rest of the people in this room is not at question here. Please leave aside your personal feelings and perhaps we will make something out of you if you survive the rest of this class."
Black sat down - defeat written all over his face. He was known to make a good impression on teachers that taught him, apparently Lord Vetinari was going to be rather different. He was not going to the play along the lines that had been drawn with the houses. A disappointment to the majority as now they would have to be on their guard. Vetinari heard muffled laughter and turned to the source.
"Miss Crabbe - I do believe no-one called for your delightful input either. Like Mister Black I believe that you should leave aside your feelings and focus.. If we all learn how to focus then perhaps we can make something out of this class. Are we clear on this point?"
A chorus of "Yes Lord Vetinari" echoed through the classroom. No one knew who actually started it and no one was sure why they'd continued to say it, but they did. Something was wrong with the students but none were willing to admit it - they put it down to Vetinari casting a spell over them, the Hufflepuffs preferring the line of thought that suggested he had cursed them into following his orders with 'Imperio' and he was in fact the Dark Lord himself. In fact this conspiracy went all the way throughout the school and led directly back to the Ministry of Magic and that is why this impostor was so interested in discussing the Ministry's practices in regards to Muggles.
The authority here was big and it wasn't pretty and it was looking at them right now.
The Hufflepuffs inched closer together. Safety in numbers after all.
"Continuing with the line of thought about your Ministry - the common consensus here seems to be that the wards and spells used on Muggles who inadvertently wander over to the other side are for their benefit; although there are downsides to this but the majority thoughts seem to align on the premise that protection no matter what the costs are to the Muggle involved. Very interesting point."
A hand raised - it belonged to a Hufflepuff he was instructed to keep. William Bones. "Yes Mister Bones?"
"I think that you have missed the point sir." he began in a timid tone. "The practises may seem harsh to you sir but the alternative I think would be worse."
"How so?"
"Well... I don't think a Muggle would particularly enjoy being eaten by a Magical Creature sir. And we do have to protect them... It's not like they can protect themselves..."
A murmur ran through the class - if the Patrician had not known the blood grouping of those that were speaking then he knew now. Those that had come to the school from Muggle parentage were obviously not pleased with the comment made by the Bones boy. Vetinari decided to draw upon this, to create an ambience of discussion in the room.
"And why do you believe that the Muggles are incapable of defending themselves Mister Bones. I was under the belief that they have made a series of leaps and bounds in the world of sciences. I know wizards tend not to see the art of science as a valid source of use due to the magic but the Muggles have evolved to a considerable level to which I believe is very impressive. But, this class is not Muggle studies is it? Rather it is about the exciting world of politics."
Again the chorus of "Yes sir" went across the class and as before, no one knew how it started or why they followed.
They just did it.
"So class, what shall we discuss now?"
Nobody said anything but yet it was clearly audible what they wanted to discuss.
His Lordship himself.
The children apparently had a morbid sense of curiosity that they needed to currently fill. Although Vetinari knew the answer to the unspoken question every single student asked - he wanted verbal confirmation of this. He looked and Snape and singled him out for this task. "Mister Snape, would you like to do the honour?"
"Of course sir." The pale boy cleared his throat and stood. "Lord Vetinari, would you please tell us about the world of politics in the city of Ankh-Morpork."
"Of course Mister Snape. I'd be delighted."
And so began a lengthy discussion of the city of Ankh-Morpork and the politics that surrounded the city itself. His discussion delved into his reign and how he had structured the city into series of Guilds. Each had its own internal power structure but none was as great as the seat of the Patrician, which was the seat he currently held. He asked if there were any questions at this point and young Lucius Malfoy raised his hand.
"Sir, what sort of Guilds are there?"
"Excellent question Mister Malfoy. There are a wide variety of Guilds. Specific examples being that of the Seamstress Guild, Alchemists Guild, Assassin's Guild, Fools Guild..."
"Sir!?"
"Yes Mister Potter, what is it?"
"You have an Assassin's Guild?"
"Yes Mister Potter."
"But..."
"Yes Mister Potter?"
The boy that was sitting between Black and Pettigrew had his mouth open and a look of disbelief was on his face. His thought process apparently had been interrupted by the fact that the Ankh-Morpork system of bureaucracy advocated the inclusion of a guild which specialised in the demise of others. It also appeared that several others seemed to have had the same problem with this revelation - a handful however, looked rather interested at this point. Even more than they had been.
"Is there a problem Mister Potter?"
"Yes sir! You have an Assassin's Guild sir! That's what's wrong sir! I mean it's inhuman. What sort of monsters go to that sort of place?! I can't believe you'd legalise something like that... It's... It's criminal!"
"No Mister Potter - it's criminal if you get caught."
Potter looked at the Patrician as if he was about to explode into a million pieces with further revelation of Ankh-Morporkian society in regards to the favourable light that the people held over the legitimacy of the Assassin's Guild.
"Mister Potter I can assure you that for the most part, the people who enter the Guild are well trained and stand by a strict moral code when it comes to the inhuming of people while under a contract. After all - the contract is legal. And the education from the Guild is considered to be the best on all of Ankh-Morpork. People all over the Disc send their children to it to learn the ways of the Assassin. I myself am rather pleased with the education I received from the Guild."
"You were taught at the Assassin's Guild sir?" squeaked Potter; the stress on his face was shown with a vein throbbing on his forehead. An interesting reaction to finding out where he was educated at...
Most people would have run very far away by this point, paused for breath and then run a little bit more before falling over and begging for breath.
"Indeed. And I think I turned out perfectly fine Mister Potter. What do you think?"
Vetinari leaned over his desk and rested his hands under his chin in a clasped fashion and looked at the messy-haired boy with glasses. There was slight movement as the group around him edged ever so slightly together. The boy gulped before answering. "You turned out fine sir."
"Thank you for your assessment Mister Potter. It means so much to my fragile ego."
Delighted smirks appeared on a couple of the Slytherin and Ravenclaw faces. The one that stood out the most however was that belonging to Severus Snape. Snape held an impassive look that made the Patrician proud. The boy had a hidden piece of potential, he was worthy enough to follow in the steps of Vetinari himself.
"Sir?" a voice called out from the back of the class - it belonged to Daniel McKinnon, a Ravenclaw. "What about wizards? Do you have any of those there?"
"I had been wondering when that question would be asked. Congratulations Mister McKinnon for being so inquisitive." the man paused before speaking again. "Wizarding society in Ankh-Morpork is unlike this society..."
There was a reluctant sigh pass over - almost as if the children were expecting some sort of points awarded. Vetinari however did not work like that - he had a different sort of teaching style.
One that did not involve a hierarchy based on who could answer a question right and expect a reward from it... The reward - if any - was the fact that they got the question right rather than wrong.
"There are both wizards and witches in Discworld but they are taught separately. There is formal education for wizards at facilities like the Unseen University in Ankh-Morpork, the University has.." Vetinari paused for effect here. He couldn't quite say that the University had produced some of the best wizards of their era but nor could he say that they didn't. Tact was a key issue to be used carefully here. "Witches however, are taught by a predecessor in the art. Segregation is a key point to note here in the hierarchy of things. While witches have a more liberal outlook on life - wizards spend most of their time in a closed unit of lifestyle. They are forbidden to engage in any activity that would so involve them siring an heir. Celibacy for wizards is a way of life."
The Patrician saw several of the young men nervously fidget in their seats. This society was based on the provision of legitimate heirs. Blood was very important here, as was succession.
"What about the witches sir?"
"As far as I know Miss de Boer, many of them have had large families."
Vetinari continued to tell them about Ankh-Morpork and the ways in which politics was dealt with as a Guildian system of thought and basis. This continued for twenty minutes more, with a question from nearly each member of the class before it was time for everything to come to an to end.
"Thank you for you time. You will receive notice of whether or not you will be welcomed back into this forum of discussion. I hope in some way you have been enlightened into thinking about the options proffered to you on a daily basis. You are excused."
He watched them file out - some more slowly than other as they looked longingly at the Patrician with hope written on them. He sat and he waited for them to go before starting to mark out on the class roll which student would be welcomed back and which would not.
"Welcome back Mister Snape. May I ask why you are here?"
"How did you..."
"Know that you were here? Fairly simple case of deduction Mister Snape. You just weren't silent enough. There were a series of books that you should read in order to develop better skulking skills."
"Oh sir? Could you tell me their names?"
"I could Mister Snape. But it will do you know good."
"Why is that sir?"
"Because I destroyed them all and the plates."
"Of course you did sir."
Vetinari looked up from his list. He made sure that the boy saw that his name was next on the list. "Tell me Mister Snape. Why should I include you in this class? What will it mean to you? How will you benefit from my lessons and more importantly will you listen to my words?"
"I think that discretion is the better part of valour sir. I think that ultimately it is up to you whether or not your words take effect in my life. But the reason I think you should include me in your class sir, is because it appears to be the only fair one here."
"Off you go then Mister Snape." replied Vetinari as he looked down at scroll and made a mark.
"As you wish sir."
The boy was gone, Vetinari was alone and his list was finished. All he had to do was give it to the headmaster and there would be no further questions asked. He had followed the list given to him as a guideline but had decided for the most part to separate the friends of friends that were on that list. Not only did they have no inclination to be politicians - they didn't seem to have the patience or the gumption to sit in the class and ask questions that were worthy of his time.
He had whittled the class down to a class of twenty. Only twelve he had hand-picked himself, ones that he had deemed worthy enough to participate - the other eight were on a compulsory list provided by the headmaster Dumbledore.
It was so kind of him to help like that.
He picked up his cane and used it to help himself up out of the seat. It was not so much as he needed the cane - it was more for a personal effect. To people with the idea that he was not as spry as he once was. He wanted to keep the ambiguity of his person a well-announced thing. The cane suggested a weakness within his reign and that is what his enemies wanted to see - Havelock Vetinari with a crutch so-to-speak.
He moved swiftly but yet not. He walked in broad daylight but yet not one person who walked the corridors saw him - or at least if they did, they chose not to acknowledge his appearance. The scene was familiar but the setting and the purpose was totally different. This time he walked to a headmasters office whilst the man awaited him knowingly with reason whereas the last time he had done this - there was a man waiting for him, but it was not for a list with children's names on it.
He drank in everything around him - he heard murmurs of sympathisers and memories of future deaths amidst the offspring of the all ready dead and doomed.
He was silent - his only trace was the cold rush of movement as air brushed past the people around him. Occasionally someone lifted a limb to touch where the cold air had kissed them and then they looked - only to see nothing. For his own personal amusement he stopped and was as still as a statue, he watched Potter and his group of friends. Black, Lupin and Pettigrew. Only two of them would be accepted and one of them was Pettigrew. He saw Potter squint in his direction - not quite seeing what he thought was there. Black was the one to pull him out of the self-induced stupor he had fallen into. Once the boys had gone, he continued to the headmaster. To present his list and to tell the man that this was not subject to questioning.
He didn't knock when he got there - he preferred to sweep in unannounced and wait for the older man to
acknowledge his presence.
It didn't take him long.
"Ah, your Lordship. I have been expecting you."
"As I expected Mister Dumbledore."
"Please, take a seat. Tell me, how was the first day of class? Everything went fine I expect."
"More than adequate, although I do doubt some of your teaching methods. I find the children to be rather.... Like trained monkeys when it comes to answering questions pertaining to politics and the way in which your Ministry of Magic deals with Muggles. They don't seem to have minds of their own. Actually come to think of it - monkeys seem to be in a far better position than your students."
"These are troubled times Lord Vetinari, the children are..."
"I wouldn't call them worried about the situation nor afraid to face it. For the most part anyway. Some of them seem quite intrigued over it. Willing to die for their cause and whatnot."
The old man nodded and hesitantly looked at the school the other man was holding. "I take it that the list is in your hand. May I see it."
Vetinari handed the scroll over and waited for Dumbledore's reaction to the list. He read it once and then again - almost to make sure that he was not seeing things in regards to what had been written.
"Is there something not to your liking Mister Dumbledore?"
"Not as such... It just seems that you have left off a considerable amount of students that I believe had a certain amount of promise. Mister Potter for instance..."
The Patrician waved his hand nonchalantly. "Mister Potter has no concept of broad minded thinking. His whole purpose on this planet appears to be that of a more literal sense. I don't think that he has what it takes to take part as a member of this class."
"Mister Potter has excelled in other aspects of learning in his years here." Dumbledore pointed out.
"As I said before - I do not believe he would be a good addition to the class. You will however notice that I accepted the eight other students that you recommended, although Mister Malfoy and the other two from Slytherin and the young Ravenclaw girl you added would have made it on their own merits."
Dumbledore conceded to Vetinari's point and continued with less conflicting points of interest of the actual course. It took a cup of Earl Grey tea and the acceptance of a sugar cookie before the headmaster was satisfied with the first day's results. Vetinari was released from the office after an hour had passed.
Again he melted into the walls and he traipsed through the school. He watched and he waited for information permanent to the current flow of things at this school. It was interesting to watch and the children in their segregated communities. They each fell into the social traps their parents had made for them.
And none were willing to break free of the loop.
If it were possible, they could have each represented a Guild. There were Alchemists, Musicians, Seamstresses' and all other varieties moving about their daily lives. It was like being in a miniature and far cleaner version of Ankh-Morpork with nor river splitting the divide.
Silently he watched the students from the safety of the half shadows he was encased in. He had a talent for remaining unnoticed from the rest of the world. The conversations around him blurred but he assimilated them all as a good leader should...
"I really don't believe this." a highly-strung voice caught his ears attention. "The seventh years get everything! Political Studies! I would kill to be in that class! I heard they were going to be looking at political assassination. Do you realise how interesting that would be? And do you even realise who is taking the class? Havelock Vetinari! The Patrician of Ankh-Morpork, that's who!"
Apparently news of his teaching here had got around. Apparently the rumors he had heard were true - there was no such thing as a secret to be kept at Hogwarts.
"We know Quirrell, you've said... At least twenty times by now."
"Twenty four actually." another voice pointed out in a helpful sort of tone.
"You don't understand. His credentials are amazing!"
A hand clamped down on the boy's shoulder. "So tell me Mister Quirrell, what exactly are my credentials?"
The two other boys with the now caught brown-haired boy scampered.
"Uh..."
"Go on Mister Quirrell."
The boys stutter became evident as his anger at not being able to attend the class abated into that of sheer terror.
"DMAP - D-Doctor of Med-Medicine and Applied P-P-Pathology, DM - Doctor of M-M-Music, DGS - Doctor of God's St-Studies, MA - Master Assass-Assassin, MPE - M-Master of P-P-Political Expediency, MASc - M-Master of Al-Alchemical Science, MIDD - Member of the Institute of D-Dance and D-Dep-Deportment, BScI - Bachelor of Political Expediency and DiPE - Diploma of Physical Education."
Well done Mister Quirrell. I'll see you in class tomorrow."
As he left, the boy sagged against the wall gasping for breath and muttering a litany of prayers to various gods. Some of which he recognised and others which he made a mental note to learn about.
It was enough to make him laugh if he cared enough too.