When we reached the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, I made a
beeline for a seat in the back row. I sat down, immediately slouching in my
chair to avoid attention. Harry sat in the seat beside me; Ron and Hermione
wandered in wearily a moment later and took seats in the front of the
class. The bell rang, making me jump. Harry gave me a small smile.
"It'll be fine," he whispered. I nodded, though at what I wasn't sure. Just then, a door in the front corner of the class opened, and Robert Gilmore stepped out to meet his new class of fifth year Gryffindors.
He was a fairly handsome man, though plain-looking, with dark brown hair and hazel-green eyes. A few inches taller than me, very trim, and usually business-like, I had expected a surprise seeing him in wizard robes, but he looked quite natural in them. He set his briefcase on his desk and searched around for a roll-sheet. Upon finding it, he looked up and surveying the class. I don't know what I had expected; perhaps a dramatic gasp, pointing fingers and maybe being sent home to New York. But he didn't even look at me. I suddenly felt indignant. He was going to ignore me?
"Nice to meet you all," he said warmly. It sounded so familiar, and yet I was hurt; he spoke to them using the same manner he did with me, at home. Polite indifference, casual formality. "I'm Professor Gilmore," he continued, still looking around. "I usually work for the Department of International Magical Cooperation, in the American Ministry of Magic, but I received a letter from Headmaster Dumbledore asking me if I would be interested in this teaching job." I was gaping at him. How inconsiderate, how cold and unfeeling, to let me find out like this? Then again, came that taunting voice in the back of my brain. You didn't exactly put up an exposition and tell him about you being a witch AND a seregaur, did you?
"I think I'll take roll first, before we start class," my stepfather was saying, as though to himself. The class was oddly quiet, and I realized with a shock that the story must have spread around that Gilmore was my stepfather. I smacked myself mentally. How could you ruin it so horribly, right off the bat! I scolded myself.
"Longbottom, Neville," Gilmore was saying. Neville let out a small "Here!" and raised his hand nervously. Gilmore gave him a small smile, and went on down the list, receiving positive answers from everyone. Guess they didn't want to miss the showdown, I thought nastily.
"Porter, Charlotte," he said finally; the way he said it, with such indifference, caused a surge of fury to go through me.
"Present," I said loudly. He didn't look up, but made a small mark on the parchment, and started to proceed. I narrowed my eyes and coughed a little. He looked up and, with supreme effort that I took pleasure in, kept his face blank.
"Yes, Miss Porter?" he inquired.
"Just clearing my throat," I replied sweetly. I felt Harry poke at me; I brought my foot down on top of his. Gilmore forced a smile and continued.
"Potter, Harry," he said, looking up with interest.
"Here," said Harry, blinking from the pain in his foot. Gilmore went on.
"Weasley, Ronald," he said at last. Ron ducked his head, and muttered a small "Here." I glanced at Harry, who gave me a grimace.
"Now, most of this class will be hands-on," he said. A few students muttered their approval, but glanced at me nervously and quieted. "Right now, however, I have a small matter of business to attend to, so would you all open your books and turn to page forty-five..." I took out my book, and started to search for the page.
"Miss Porter, would be so kind as to join me in my office?" he said in a tight voice. I looked up in surprise. Ah, so here it comes. Harry gave me an encouraging look, and I walked up to the desk, following my stepfather into his office.
He shut the door and walked calmly to his office desk, sitting down. I noticed that he did not offer me a seat.
"Charlotte," he began, but I cut him off. I was no longer worried about what he would think. I was angry.
"You never told me you were a wizard," I snapped at him. It was an effort not shouting. "You said you,-"
"Forgive my interruption, Charlotte," he said sharply. "But you didn't exactly tell me the complete truth either." I clenched my teeth and tried not to look taken aback.
"I had to do it all by myself for four years," I told him venomously. "I had to go to school and be an outcast. I assume Dumbledore told you about what I am?" I demanded. He nodded. "A seregaur. I had to go through four years of ridicule at Salem. Thought of as a freak, a loner, some sort of wild animal. And you didn't even know," I spat. "You didn't care. So don't try to become all fatherly now. I take the good with the bad, so don't you dare try to give me the worst now, when all I got from you my entire life was exactly what I received in there." I threw a disgusted hand at the door that led back to the classroom. I was so angry, I couldn't think of anything else to say to him. "Accio Chair," I said furiously. A chair near the dusty window sped toward me, nearly knocking me over. I regained my balance and sat down sulkily. There was a long silence.
"You're right," he said suddenly. My eyes widened in surprise. I was? "You're absolutely right. I did put as much emotional distance between the two of us as I could, over the years. I didn't want to know you, because I was afraid...that you would..." He trailed off.
"That I would what?" I snapped, but my anger was fading.
"Be like your mother," he said softly. I felt a jolt in my stomach. My mother? I thought blearily. What did she have to do with anything?
"Charlotte, I know it was wrong of me not to explain anything," he said, firmly changing the subject. "But you have to see that it was wrong not telling me, too. You could have been in danger,-" He cut himself off suddenly, and I stared at him.
"From what?" I asked. He looked panicky.
"Let's go back to the class," he said, standing up abruptly. I did the same, following him back. "I'll explain more later," he said out of the corner of his mouth. Then, to the class, "Are you all done with the reading?" They all nodded. I wanted to protest, ask that he explain now, but shook my head and started walking back to my seat. When was I going to get some explanations?
"Wait, Miss Porter," said my stepfather. I froze. I glanced at Harry, who gave me a scared look, and I had a good idea about what the reading had been about. I looked back at my stepfather, horrified. No...he wouldn't. I shook my head lightly, my eyes shooting to the students. They all looked anxious. Hermione had her hand to her mouth. But my stepfather hadn't noticed my warning.
"Can anyone tell me what your reading was about?" he asked, pulling me to the front of the classroom. Of all the horrible things that had happened that day...
Hermione raised her hand, trembling. Gilmore nodded at her, and she muttered something. "What was that?" he asked kindly. She glanced at me, terrified, and shook her head. Gilmore looked put out. "Anyone?"
"It was about her," whispered Lavender Brown. I clenched my jaw tightly, forcing back tears. It wasn't supposed to be this way, not here. I came here for a new start, and it's just like it used to be. I'm still the one they point at. I'm still the one they're afraid of.
"Yeah, but you don't have to be the victim." I frowned. Where did that come from? I looked around to see if anyone else had heard it. They were staring at me, but none gave any sign of having just spoken. My eyes riveted on Gavin Edhelorn. I hadn't even noticed he was there, but he was looking at me. Not like the rest.
"That's right, you heard me." My eyes widened. His mouth didn't move. It was his voice, in my head. I narrowed my eyes.
"Knock it off. Get out of my head. I don't need advice from you." I thought, hoping it would work. He grinned.
"Oh really?" I nodded. "Then take charge. Don't let him treat you like a specimen." I started to reply, then realized he was right. Gilmore was treating me like a guinea pig, like some sort of example for the class. I turned, suddenly feeling enfuriated. Don't let your anger ruin this, I told myself.
".is an example of a seregaur," Gilmore was saying. "They are extremely rare. One of the parents must be a werewolf, and one a wizard for the child to turn out to be a seregaur. Even-"
"Even then there only stands a one in four chance for the child's genetics to be that of a seregaur," I said in a bored voice. Gilmore looked at me, bewildered. "Yeah, yeah. It's all textbook. They just read that, why do they have to hear you repeat it?" I paused, looking around. Everyone was terrified. I sighed. "Look.I'm not dangerous. I'm not an animal. I'm a witch. A witch with the natural-born ability to transfigure herself into a wolf, and that's ALL. I'm just an Animagus. I can't hurt you any more than the person sitting next to you. I know there are already rumors, but I want to put a stop to them NOW. So.I guess, if anyone has a question for me, ask it." There was a shocked silence. I surveyed the room, boldly awaiting whatever they were going to shoot at me. Ron raised his hand timidly. I nodded at him.
"Er.if you wanted to.couldn't you bite me?" he asked. A few people giggled. My step-father had apparently lost his voice. I managed to suppress my laughter.
"If you wanted to, couldn't you bite me?" I repeated his question to Parvati Patil. She jumped at being spoken to, but blinked for a few moments, then nodded. I turned to Gavin. "You could bite me too, right?" He nodded, chuckling. I swiveled to Gilmore. "Professor, you could bite me if you wanted to, correct?" He smiled.
"Yes, yes I could Miss Porter." I turned triumphantly to the class.
"Ron, what I'm trying to get at is.Harry could bite Lavender.Neville could bite Hermione.yes, it is possible that they could. But would they?" I demanded. He shook his head. "Of course not. Can anyone tell me why?"
"Because it's daft, that's why," said Seamus Finnigan loudly. The class erupted in laughter.
"Any more questions?" I asked, smiling.
"Then why do people make such a big deal out of it?" said Dean Thomas. "Why are they afraid of you?" My smile disappeared.
"Well." I didn't know what to say.
"In precisely the same way," said Harry, standing up, "as you are all afraid to say You-know-who." I gave him a grateful look. He walked to the front of the class and squeezed my arm comfortingly. "What is so bad about saying a NAME? Fear of a name only inspires fear of the thing itself," he continued. I noted that he exchanged a sly glance with Hermione. I thought perhaps she had said it first. "You all walked into this classroom afraid not of Charlie, but of the rumors you heard about her. And that, my friends," he leaned in confidently, "makes no sense." Everyone laughed.
"Okay," I said, still giggling. Then, in a sing-song voice, "So what's the one conclusion I can bring this number to?"
"You're a witch," spoke up Gavin. "You're our equal. And you're good with public speaking," he added. My cheeks turned pink and the class chuckled. Harry and I took a bow and returned to our seats. Everyone clapped. When the applause died down, my stepfather took the stage once more, smiling.
"My point in subjecting Miss Porter to this torture," he said, casting an apologetic look in my direction, "was to not only correct a stereotype, but to build a bit of trust among you. If you all do not trust.or are scared stiff.of another person in this class, how can you work together? This first day was only an icebreaker. Get to know your classmates, because you need to be able to trust them with your lives. Class dismissed."
"It'll be fine," he whispered. I nodded, though at what I wasn't sure. Just then, a door in the front corner of the class opened, and Robert Gilmore stepped out to meet his new class of fifth year Gryffindors.
He was a fairly handsome man, though plain-looking, with dark brown hair and hazel-green eyes. A few inches taller than me, very trim, and usually business-like, I had expected a surprise seeing him in wizard robes, but he looked quite natural in them. He set his briefcase on his desk and searched around for a roll-sheet. Upon finding it, he looked up and surveying the class. I don't know what I had expected; perhaps a dramatic gasp, pointing fingers and maybe being sent home to New York. But he didn't even look at me. I suddenly felt indignant. He was going to ignore me?
"Nice to meet you all," he said warmly. It sounded so familiar, and yet I was hurt; he spoke to them using the same manner he did with me, at home. Polite indifference, casual formality. "I'm Professor Gilmore," he continued, still looking around. "I usually work for the Department of International Magical Cooperation, in the American Ministry of Magic, but I received a letter from Headmaster Dumbledore asking me if I would be interested in this teaching job." I was gaping at him. How inconsiderate, how cold and unfeeling, to let me find out like this? Then again, came that taunting voice in the back of my brain. You didn't exactly put up an exposition and tell him about you being a witch AND a seregaur, did you?
"I think I'll take roll first, before we start class," my stepfather was saying, as though to himself. The class was oddly quiet, and I realized with a shock that the story must have spread around that Gilmore was my stepfather. I smacked myself mentally. How could you ruin it so horribly, right off the bat! I scolded myself.
"Longbottom, Neville," Gilmore was saying. Neville let out a small "Here!" and raised his hand nervously. Gilmore gave him a small smile, and went on down the list, receiving positive answers from everyone. Guess they didn't want to miss the showdown, I thought nastily.
"Porter, Charlotte," he said finally; the way he said it, with such indifference, caused a surge of fury to go through me.
"Present," I said loudly. He didn't look up, but made a small mark on the parchment, and started to proceed. I narrowed my eyes and coughed a little. He looked up and, with supreme effort that I took pleasure in, kept his face blank.
"Yes, Miss Porter?" he inquired.
"Just clearing my throat," I replied sweetly. I felt Harry poke at me; I brought my foot down on top of his. Gilmore forced a smile and continued.
"Potter, Harry," he said, looking up with interest.
"Here," said Harry, blinking from the pain in his foot. Gilmore went on.
"Weasley, Ronald," he said at last. Ron ducked his head, and muttered a small "Here." I glanced at Harry, who gave me a grimace.
"Now, most of this class will be hands-on," he said. A few students muttered their approval, but glanced at me nervously and quieted. "Right now, however, I have a small matter of business to attend to, so would you all open your books and turn to page forty-five..." I took out my book, and started to search for the page.
"Miss Porter, would be so kind as to join me in my office?" he said in a tight voice. I looked up in surprise. Ah, so here it comes. Harry gave me an encouraging look, and I walked up to the desk, following my stepfather into his office.
He shut the door and walked calmly to his office desk, sitting down. I noticed that he did not offer me a seat.
"Charlotte," he began, but I cut him off. I was no longer worried about what he would think. I was angry.
"You never told me you were a wizard," I snapped at him. It was an effort not shouting. "You said you,-"
"Forgive my interruption, Charlotte," he said sharply. "But you didn't exactly tell me the complete truth either." I clenched my teeth and tried not to look taken aback.
"I had to do it all by myself for four years," I told him venomously. "I had to go to school and be an outcast. I assume Dumbledore told you about what I am?" I demanded. He nodded. "A seregaur. I had to go through four years of ridicule at Salem. Thought of as a freak, a loner, some sort of wild animal. And you didn't even know," I spat. "You didn't care. So don't try to become all fatherly now. I take the good with the bad, so don't you dare try to give me the worst now, when all I got from you my entire life was exactly what I received in there." I threw a disgusted hand at the door that led back to the classroom. I was so angry, I couldn't think of anything else to say to him. "Accio Chair," I said furiously. A chair near the dusty window sped toward me, nearly knocking me over. I regained my balance and sat down sulkily. There was a long silence.
"You're right," he said suddenly. My eyes widened in surprise. I was? "You're absolutely right. I did put as much emotional distance between the two of us as I could, over the years. I didn't want to know you, because I was afraid...that you would..." He trailed off.
"That I would what?" I snapped, but my anger was fading.
"Be like your mother," he said softly. I felt a jolt in my stomach. My mother? I thought blearily. What did she have to do with anything?
"Charlotte, I know it was wrong of me not to explain anything," he said, firmly changing the subject. "But you have to see that it was wrong not telling me, too. You could have been in danger,-" He cut himself off suddenly, and I stared at him.
"From what?" I asked. He looked panicky.
"Let's go back to the class," he said, standing up abruptly. I did the same, following him back. "I'll explain more later," he said out of the corner of his mouth. Then, to the class, "Are you all done with the reading?" They all nodded. I wanted to protest, ask that he explain now, but shook my head and started walking back to my seat. When was I going to get some explanations?
"Wait, Miss Porter," said my stepfather. I froze. I glanced at Harry, who gave me a scared look, and I had a good idea about what the reading had been about. I looked back at my stepfather, horrified. No...he wouldn't. I shook my head lightly, my eyes shooting to the students. They all looked anxious. Hermione had her hand to her mouth. But my stepfather hadn't noticed my warning.
"Can anyone tell me what your reading was about?" he asked, pulling me to the front of the classroom. Of all the horrible things that had happened that day...
Hermione raised her hand, trembling. Gilmore nodded at her, and she muttered something. "What was that?" he asked kindly. She glanced at me, terrified, and shook her head. Gilmore looked put out. "Anyone?"
"It was about her," whispered Lavender Brown. I clenched my jaw tightly, forcing back tears. It wasn't supposed to be this way, not here. I came here for a new start, and it's just like it used to be. I'm still the one they point at. I'm still the one they're afraid of.
"Yeah, but you don't have to be the victim." I frowned. Where did that come from? I looked around to see if anyone else had heard it. They were staring at me, but none gave any sign of having just spoken. My eyes riveted on Gavin Edhelorn. I hadn't even noticed he was there, but he was looking at me. Not like the rest.
"That's right, you heard me." My eyes widened. His mouth didn't move. It was his voice, in my head. I narrowed my eyes.
"Knock it off. Get out of my head. I don't need advice from you." I thought, hoping it would work. He grinned.
"Oh really?" I nodded. "Then take charge. Don't let him treat you like a specimen." I started to reply, then realized he was right. Gilmore was treating me like a guinea pig, like some sort of example for the class. I turned, suddenly feeling enfuriated. Don't let your anger ruin this, I told myself.
".is an example of a seregaur," Gilmore was saying. "They are extremely rare. One of the parents must be a werewolf, and one a wizard for the child to turn out to be a seregaur. Even-"
"Even then there only stands a one in four chance for the child's genetics to be that of a seregaur," I said in a bored voice. Gilmore looked at me, bewildered. "Yeah, yeah. It's all textbook. They just read that, why do they have to hear you repeat it?" I paused, looking around. Everyone was terrified. I sighed. "Look.I'm not dangerous. I'm not an animal. I'm a witch. A witch with the natural-born ability to transfigure herself into a wolf, and that's ALL. I'm just an Animagus. I can't hurt you any more than the person sitting next to you. I know there are already rumors, but I want to put a stop to them NOW. So.I guess, if anyone has a question for me, ask it." There was a shocked silence. I surveyed the room, boldly awaiting whatever they were going to shoot at me. Ron raised his hand timidly. I nodded at him.
"Er.if you wanted to.couldn't you bite me?" he asked. A few people giggled. My step-father had apparently lost his voice. I managed to suppress my laughter.
"If you wanted to, couldn't you bite me?" I repeated his question to Parvati Patil. She jumped at being spoken to, but blinked for a few moments, then nodded. I turned to Gavin. "You could bite me too, right?" He nodded, chuckling. I swiveled to Gilmore. "Professor, you could bite me if you wanted to, correct?" He smiled.
"Yes, yes I could Miss Porter." I turned triumphantly to the class.
"Ron, what I'm trying to get at is.Harry could bite Lavender.Neville could bite Hermione.yes, it is possible that they could. But would they?" I demanded. He shook his head. "Of course not. Can anyone tell me why?"
"Because it's daft, that's why," said Seamus Finnigan loudly. The class erupted in laughter.
"Any more questions?" I asked, smiling.
"Then why do people make such a big deal out of it?" said Dean Thomas. "Why are they afraid of you?" My smile disappeared.
"Well." I didn't know what to say.
"In precisely the same way," said Harry, standing up, "as you are all afraid to say You-know-who." I gave him a grateful look. He walked to the front of the class and squeezed my arm comfortingly. "What is so bad about saying a NAME? Fear of a name only inspires fear of the thing itself," he continued. I noted that he exchanged a sly glance with Hermione. I thought perhaps she had said it first. "You all walked into this classroom afraid not of Charlie, but of the rumors you heard about her. And that, my friends," he leaned in confidently, "makes no sense." Everyone laughed.
"Okay," I said, still giggling. Then, in a sing-song voice, "So what's the one conclusion I can bring this number to?"
"You're a witch," spoke up Gavin. "You're our equal. And you're good with public speaking," he added. My cheeks turned pink and the class chuckled. Harry and I took a bow and returned to our seats. Everyone clapped. When the applause died down, my stepfather took the stage once more, smiling.
"My point in subjecting Miss Porter to this torture," he said, casting an apologetic look in my direction, "was to not only correct a stereotype, but to build a bit of trust among you. If you all do not trust.or are scared stiff.of another person in this class, how can you work together? This first day was only an icebreaker. Get to know your classmates, because you need to be able to trust them with your lives. Class dismissed."