Alesco
Chapter Two--The Black Quill
*
"So, Harry, what are your plans for staffing the empty chaser positions this year?" Seamus Finnegan casually asked Harry at breakfast the following Tuesday.
Harry swallowed some egg and gave Seamus a glance. He still harbored hard feelings toward Seamus from the caustic attitude he'd shown toward him the prior year. He kept his voice steady as he said, "I'm going to work with Ron on putting up some flyers in the next couple of weeks for tryouts. We don't have our first game until the end of next month. Hopefully, we'll have enough time to integrate new players before the game."
He glanced over and saw that Ginny appeared very interested in this news. She smiled and gave Harry a quick nod before turning back to Neville, who was sitting next to her. They appeared very wrapped up in conversation. Dean grunted, and Harry turned to see him drop his fork on his plate, grab his books, and walk out of the Great Hall. He must have been watching Ginny the whole time, Harry thought in passing. Harry picked up some toast, and looked up when Ron and Hermione walked in, sitting down and shoveling food onto their plates.
"You're late." Harry stated the obvious. He stared at them both, hoping to divine from them the reason for their tardiness.
"You didn't wake me this morning. You were gone." Ron gave him a penetrating glare, as he shoved a partial slice of ham into his mouth.
Harry gave him a sheepish look. He'd woken early, and could not get back to sleep. Instead of sitting silently at his bedside desk and finishing the Potions exam they'd been assigned yesterday, he'd walked outside and sat near the Quidditch pitch, enjoying the early dawn. He realized how calm it had made him, and wondered why he hadn't done this more last year. Watching the occasional owl arrive from late night hunting, Harry had simply reclined on a bench and saw the wisps of early morning clouds drift by.
As Harry sat there, he saw the figure of another person, doing the very same thing he was, on the other side of the pitch. He couldn't tell who it was from this distance, but he could tell it was a girl. She appeared to be bending over parchment and quill, and had occasionally looked up at the brilliant sunrise.
After a few moments, Harry had realized how long he'd been outside, and went inside for breakfast. He'd dressed for classes before leaving the dormitory, so he'd had no need to go back.
"I'm sorry, Ron. You know, you really need to get your own alarm clock." Harry now replied, matter-of-factly. "I might not always be around to wake you up."
Hermione and Ron exchanged worried looks at this statement. Harry scowled. "Not like that...oh, never mind." He turned to Hermione and said, "Did you sleep in too, Hermione?"
Hermione smiled hesitantly, still appearing worried. "No, I was up early reading in the dormitory. When I got dressed and came down for breakfast, I lingered in the Common Room to finish Professor Snape's essay. That's when Ron came down, looking the worse for wear. I was planning to leave, but then Ron and I started to argue...and then we were both late."
She finished her food. "It's your fault, Ron, if I get indigestion."
"Oh, come on, Hermione, I didn't force you to stay." Ron growled, shoving several pieces of bacon into his mouth.
She gave him a disgusted look, and then pulled out her schedule.
"So, we have Defense Against the Dark Arts today for the first time this week. I hope the new teacher believes in practical defense." Hermione folded the parchment, so that only her classes faced up. She started making notes around the margins.
Ron snorted, and said, "Anybody will be better than Umbridge. Oy, Harry, so what are our plans for staffing the empty team positions?"
Harry outlined his plans to advertise for try-outs, until it was time for them to go to their first class of the Day, History Of Magic.
~*~
Harry grinned as his best mate shook his head, and Ron tried to clear the drowsy look in his eyes. Once again, Ron had fallen asleep in History of Magic, and Hermione was throwing him dirty looks as they walked down the hall. Harry thought he heard her say something about Ron needing to focus on work if he wanted to become an auror. Normally, this kind of talk vaulted the couple into a heated argument. Harry was ready to peel off from the two, until Ron only grunted huffily and continued rubbing his eyes. When they arrived at the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, Ron was wide awake again, and talking excitedly about the new Gryffindor team they were forming. Harry was certain Hermione rolled her eyes as they took their places in their normal seats.
The classroom swiftly filled, and everyone was talking excitedly. Finally, their new teacher opened the door at the top of the classroom's spiral staircase and walked down, her body practically floating to the ground floor. The first thing Harry noticed was the clever gleam in her eye, and the "mona-lisa" smile on her lips..one that could have been humorous or serious all at once. Harry wondered all the sudden where he'd seen that smile. Then he realized it was the same type of smile Professor Dumbledore always wore, as if he knew more than they all thought he did.....
"Good Morning." She said softly, her palms clenched to the clinging velvety purple robes she was wearing. Her voice had a crisp American accent.
"Good Morning, Professor." The class replied automatically.
Once again, she was wearing a jaunty beret that matched the color of her robes. "I am your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Ivy Forester. First order of business this morning, I would appreciate you all writing down...."
Harry was nudged in the arm by Ron. He was fumbling in his pockets, and Harry had no idea what for. He whispered urgently, "I must have lost my quill! Do you have an extra one?" Harry shook his head no, trying to hear what Professor Forester was trying to say. Ron turned to Hermione, and as Harry saw Professor Forester waving her wand toward the blackboard, a list of class objectives appeared. He was about to dip his quill and write this down, when Hermione whispered rather loudly, "Well, you had in in History of Magic. It must have fallen off your desk when you were asleep...." Ron growled in frustration, and Harry saw that Professor Forester had noticed the exchange. She was heading toward them. Harry elbowed Ron, and Ron became still and silent.
"Ah...Mr Potter, I presume?" Professor Forester was looking singularly at Harry. Harry blushed, as he realized how pretty the new professor was, up close. She held out her hand to shake his, and Harry suddenly felt awkward. He held out his hand and let her shake it, and she held on for longer than normal. Finally she let go, and her brown gaze fell on Hermione next. "And you are, my dear?"
"Hermione Granger, Professor." Hermione took the initiative and held out her own hand. Professor Forester seemed to appreciate this, and she smiled and even bowed a bit before saying, "I have heard great things about you from Professor McGonagall." She finally let go of Hermione's hand, and then she looked at Ron dead-on. For what seemed like a very long time, she looked at Ron. Someone near the back of the room cleared their throat, and someone else coughed to hide a laugh. The room was deathly still. The side of Ron's face Harry could see became bright red. Harry felt badly for his friend, under the penetrating gaze of their lovely new professor.
Finally, Professor Forester smiled in what Harry thought was a very odd way. She pulled a long black quill from her pocket. She tapped it against her thigh for a moment before saying softly, "And I believe you are from the house of Weasley? The red hair, and the rosy complection, gives you away."
Harry was surprised. Even an American knew of the Weasley family?
Ron nodded, and Harry was amazed to see he was trembling. He coughed, and said hoarsely, "My name is Ron, Professor. Ron Weasley."
"Do you need a quill, by any chance, Mr Weasley?" Professor Forester asked softly, her eyes gleaming and half-lidded.
"Yes, ma'am, I do." Ron managed to say, his hands clenched and white-knuckled on the desk.
Harry was astounded by what she did next. She took the quill and brushed it against Ron's right cheek. It was only briefly, and then she dropped it on the desk in front of Ron. Turning away, she was back to business, as if nothing had happened. Harry had listened to about five minutes of her lecture and realized he hadn't even absorbed it. Thankfully, he came to his senses and wrote down all the objectives, before Professor Forester asked them one by one to the front of the room to demonstrate their "favorite" defensive spells (or at least explain them, and their use). She appeared to greet each student by shaking their hand and asking their name. She was very polite to all, but did not repeat a performance anything like what had happened with Ron.
When the class was over, the trio headed out the door, silent at first. Finally Hermione said, in a strangled voice, "Am I the only one here who got a bad feeling about her?"
Ron cleared his throat. "Yeah...that was really spooky...I mean I--"
"You're only saying that because she embarrassed you. In fact, I think you liked it." Hermione gave him a sharp look. For a brief moment, Harry thought a look of hurt crossed her face, but then she continued, as normal. "No, that's not the part I meant. She seems like she'll be a good teacher and all...but did you see the expression on her face? And that look in her eyes? There's something going on. I'm not sure if it's for good or bad..." Hermione sighed. "I'm going to ask Professor McGonagall later to see what she knows about Professor Forester."
"Why? I mean, she was appointed by Dumbledore, so he must think she's okay." Ron said, even though he wore a sheepish expression.
Harry decided not to comment. He wanted to find out more about the Professor, by himself. And, for now, he was going to leave Dumbledore and McGonagall out of the inquiries he wanted to make.
~*~
Harry dipped his quill one more last time and signed his letter with a flourish. Professor Lupin would surely know something about Professor Forester. Harry sat back and wondered what had happened in class that day. It was almost as if the professor had designs on his best friend. Oh, come on, Harry, you're jumping to conclusions, he told himself. He'd gotten into too much trouble, in the past, letting false assumptions influence him. He turned toward Ron, who was sitting across from him in the common room. Ron was writing with the black quill the professor had given him. Ron looked up straight away. "All right, Harry?" he asked, concerned.
Harry nodded, and Ron went back to work. Harry let his eyes focus on the pale pink welts that peaked out from under the sleeve of Ron's white shirt. Many a night Harry had dreamed about the nightmarish events of the Department of Mysteries the prior year. Harry had thought the pain of that night would follow him throughout the summer, but instead the pain had lessened, and he'd been able to think objectively about everything that had occurred. Strangely enough, he'd taken solace in the early morning trips to the park near Privet Drive, and they'd helped clear his mind. Harry began to wonder if this was like Occlumency, and thought about asking Dumbledore later. Hopefully, he wouldn't be asked to continue the lessons with Snape this year....
Harry put the letter into an envelope and sealed it with wax. It was past curfew, and Hedwig was probably out hunting. Harry placed the letter inside his History of Magic text, and decided to wake up early and have her deliver it tomorrow.
At that moment, Harry looked up, and saw Ron licking the end of the black quill delightedly. Harry opened his mouth, not certain of what he would have said. Instead, Ron exclaimed, "Mmm, liquorice. It's a sugar quill." He put the quill back in his mouth, and nibbled at the end.
Harry felt as though they were being watched. He turned toward the fire, and sure enough, Hermione was sitting there, appraising Ron with a very worried expression. It was the same type of expression she'd had when she saw Harry anonymously receive the Firebolt in their third year.
Harry suddenly realized what Hermione might be afraid of. What if the new professor was trying to harm Ron? He couldn't imagine why she'd want to harm him....but stranger things had happened.
Hermione was heading toward their table. Harry felt a fight coming on, and he desperately tried to think of some excuse to leave....
"Ron...can I talk to you?" Hermione said softly, as soon as she was standing next to their table.
Ron pulled the quill out of his mouth. "Sure, Hermione." He gestured to a chair next to him, and stuffed the quill back into his mouth.
Hermione gave Harry an apologetic look, and then said to Ron, "Can I speak with you alone?"
Harry at once felt badly that Hermione was leaving him out, but he was also partly glad because he didn't want to witness this fight. Ron had a very puzzled expression on his face, and for a long time he sat, undecided. Finally, he looked up at her, as if a light had turned on, and he looked very anxious. "Sure." Ron got up, a nervous expression on his face, and let Hermione lead him over to an isolated corner of the common room.
Harry watched the conversation from afar, which lasted briefly. He had the feeling Hermione wasn't saying what Ron had been anticipating.
Chapter Two--The Black Quill
*
"So, Harry, what are your plans for staffing the empty chaser positions this year?" Seamus Finnegan casually asked Harry at breakfast the following Tuesday.
Harry swallowed some egg and gave Seamus a glance. He still harbored hard feelings toward Seamus from the caustic attitude he'd shown toward him the prior year. He kept his voice steady as he said, "I'm going to work with Ron on putting up some flyers in the next couple of weeks for tryouts. We don't have our first game until the end of next month. Hopefully, we'll have enough time to integrate new players before the game."
He glanced over and saw that Ginny appeared very interested in this news. She smiled and gave Harry a quick nod before turning back to Neville, who was sitting next to her. They appeared very wrapped up in conversation. Dean grunted, and Harry turned to see him drop his fork on his plate, grab his books, and walk out of the Great Hall. He must have been watching Ginny the whole time, Harry thought in passing. Harry picked up some toast, and looked up when Ron and Hermione walked in, sitting down and shoveling food onto their plates.
"You're late." Harry stated the obvious. He stared at them both, hoping to divine from them the reason for their tardiness.
"You didn't wake me this morning. You were gone." Ron gave him a penetrating glare, as he shoved a partial slice of ham into his mouth.
Harry gave him a sheepish look. He'd woken early, and could not get back to sleep. Instead of sitting silently at his bedside desk and finishing the Potions exam they'd been assigned yesterday, he'd walked outside and sat near the Quidditch pitch, enjoying the early dawn. He realized how calm it had made him, and wondered why he hadn't done this more last year. Watching the occasional owl arrive from late night hunting, Harry had simply reclined on a bench and saw the wisps of early morning clouds drift by.
As Harry sat there, he saw the figure of another person, doing the very same thing he was, on the other side of the pitch. He couldn't tell who it was from this distance, but he could tell it was a girl. She appeared to be bending over parchment and quill, and had occasionally looked up at the brilliant sunrise.
After a few moments, Harry had realized how long he'd been outside, and went inside for breakfast. He'd dressed for classes before leaving the dormitory, so he'd had no need to go back.
"I'm sorry, Ron. You know, you really need to get your own alarm clock." Harry now replied, matter-of-factly. "I might not always be around to wake you up."
Hermione and Ron exchanged worried looks at this statement. Harry scowled. "Not like that...oh, never mind." He turned to Hermione and said, "Did you sleep in too, Hermione?"
Hermione smiled hesitantly, still appearing worried. "No, I was up early reading in the dormitory. When I got dressed and came down for breakfast, I lingered in the Common Room to finish Professor Snape's essay. That's when Ron came down, looking the worse for wear. I was planning to leave, but then Ron and I started to argue...and then we were both late."
She finished her food. "It's your fault, Ron, if I get indigestion."
"Oh, come on, Hermione, I didn't force you to stay." Ron growled, shoving several pieces of bacon into his mouth.
She gave him a disgusted look, and then pulled out her schedule.
"So, we have Defense Against the Dark Arts today for the first time this week. I hope the new teacher believes in practical defense." Hermione folded the parchment, so that only her classes faced up. She started making notes around the margins.
Ron snorted, and said, "Anybody will be better than Umbridge. Oy, Harry, so what are our plans for staffing the empty team positions?"
Harry outlined his plans to advertise for try-outs, until it was time for them to go to their first class of the Day, History Of Magic.
~*~
Harry grinned as his best mate shook his head, and Ron tried to clear the drowsy look in his eyes. Once again, Ron had fallen asleep in History of Magic, and Hermione was throwing him dirty looks as they walked down the hall. Harry thought he heard her say something about Ron needing to focus on work if he wanted to become an auror. Normally, this kind of talk vaulted the couple into a heated argument. Harry was ready to peel off from the two, until Ron only grunted huffily and continued rubbing his eyes. When they arrived at the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, Ron was wide awake again, and talking excitedly about the new Gryffindor team they were forming. Harry was certain Hermione rolled her eyes as they took their places in their normal seats.
The classroom swiftly filled, and everyone was talking excitedly. Finally, their new teacher opened the door at the top of the classroom's spiral staircase and walked down, her body practically floating to the ground floor. The first thing Harry noticed was the clever gleam in her eye, and the "mona-lisa" smile on her lips..one that could have been humorous or serious all at once. Harry wondered all the sudden where he'd seen that smile. Then he realized it was the same type of smile Professor Dumbledore always wore, as if he knew more than they all thought he did.....
"Good Morning." She said softly, her palms clenched to the clinging velvety purple robes she was wearing. Her voice had a crisp American accent.
"Good Morning, Professor." The class replied automatically.
Once again, she was wearing a jaunty beret that matched the color of her robes. "I am your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Ivy Forester. First order of business this morning, I would appreciate you all writing down...."
Harry was nudged in the arm by Ron. He was fumbling in his pockets, and Harry had no idea what for. He whispered urgently, "I must have lost my quill! Do you have an extra one?" Harry shook his head no, trying to hear what Professor Forester was trying to say. Ron turned to Hermione, and as Harry saw Professor Forester waving her wand toward the blackboard, a list of class objectives appeared. He was about to dip his quill and write this down, when Hermione whispered rather loudly, "Well, you had in in History of Magic. It must have fallen off your desk when you were asleep...." Ron growled in frustration, and Harry saw that Professor Forester had noticed the exchange. She was heading toward them. Harry elbowed Ron, and Ron became still and silent.
"Ah...Mr Potter, I presume?" Professor Forester was looking singularly at Harry. Harry blushed, as he realized how pretty the new professor was, up close. She held out her hand to shake his, and Harry suddenly felt awkward. He held out his hand and let her shake it, and she held on for longer than normal. Finally she let go, and her brown gaze fell on Hermione next. "And you are, my dear?"
"Hermione Granger, Professor." Hermione took the initiative and held out her own hand. Professor Forester seemed to appreciate this, and she smiled and even bowed a bit before saying, "I have heard great things about you from Professor McGonagall." She finally let go of Hermione's hand, and then she looked at Ron dead-on. For what seemed like a very long time, she looked at Ron. Someone near the back of the room cleared their throat, and someone else coughed to hide a laugh. The room was deathly still. The side of Ron's face Harry could see became bright red. Harry felt badly for his friend, under the penetrating gaze of their lovely new professor.
Finally, Professor Forester smiled in what Harry thought was a very odd way. She pulled a long black quill from her pocket. She tapped it against her thigh for a moment before saying softly, "And I believe you are from the house of Weasley? The red hair, and the rosy complection, gives you away."
Harry was surprised. Even an American knew of the Weasley family?
Ron nodded, and Harry was amazed to see he was trembling. He coughed, and said hoarsely, "My name is Ron, Professor. Ron Weasley."
"Do you need a quill, by any chance, Mr Weasley?" Professor Forester asked softly, her eyes gleaming and half-lidded.
"Yes, ma'am, I do." Ron managed to say, his hands clenched and white-knuckled on the desk.
Harry was astounded by what she did next. She took the quill and brushed it against Ron's right cheek. It was only briefly, and then she dropped it on the desk in front of Ron. Turning away, she was back to business, as if nothing had happened. Harry had listened to about five minutes of her lecture and realized he hadn't even absorbed it. Thankfully, he came to his senses and wrote down all the objectives, before Professor Forester asked them one by one to the front of the room to demonstrate their "favorite" defensive spells (or at least explain them, and their use). She appeared to greet each student by shaking their hand and asking their name. She was very polite to all, but did not repeat a performance anything like what had happened with Ron.
When the class was over, the trio headed out the door, silent at first. Finally Hermione said, in a strangled voice, "Am I the only one here who got a bad feeling about her?"
Ron cleared his throat. "Yeah...that was really spooky...I mean I--"
"You're only saying that because she embarrassed you. In fact, I think you liked it." Hermione gave him a sharp look. For a brief moment, Harry thought a look of hurt crossed her face, but then she continued, as normal. "No, that's not the part I meant. She seems like she'll be a good teacher and all...but did you see the expression on her face? And that look in her eyes? There's something going on. I'm not sure if it's for good or bad..." Hermione sighed. "I'm going to ask Professor McGonagall later to see what she knows about Professor Forester."
"Why? I mean, she was appointed by Dumbledore, so he must think she's okay." Ron said, even though he wore a sheepish expression.
Harry decided not to comment. He wanted to find out more about the Professor, by himself. And, for now, he was going to leave Dumbledore and McGonagall out of the inquiries he wanted to make.
~*~
Harry dipped his quill one more last time and signed his letter with a flourish. Professor Lupin would surely know something about Professor Forester. Harry sat back and wondered what had happened in class that day. It was almost as if the professor had designs on his best friend. Oh, come on, Harry, you're jumping to conclusions, he told himself. He'd gotten into too much trouble, in the past, letting false assumptions influence him. He turned toward Ron, who was sitting across from him in the common room. Ron was writing with the black quill the professor had given him. Ron looked up straight away. "All right, Harry?" he asked, concerned.
Harry nodded, and Ron went back to work. Harry let his eyes focus on the pale pink welts that peaked out from under the sleeve of Ron's white shirt. Many a night Harry had dreamed about the nightmarish events of the Department of Mysteries the prior year. Harry had thought the pain of that night would follow him throughout the summer, but instead the pain had lessened, and he'd been able to think objectively about everything that had occurred. Strangely enough, he'd taken solace in the early morning trips to the park near Privet Drive, and they'd helped clear his mind. Harry began to wonder if this was like Occlumency, and thought about asking Dumbledore later. Hopefully, he wouldn't be asked to continue the lessons with Snape this year....
Harry put the letter into an envelope and sealed it with wax. It was past curfew, and Hedwig was probably out hunting. Harry placed the letter inside his History of Magic text, and decided to wake up early and have her deliver it tomorrow.
At that moment, Harry looked up, and saw Ron licking the end of the black quill delightedly. Harry opened his mouth, not certain of what he would have said. Instead, Ron exclaimed, "Mmm, liquorice. It's a sugar quill." He put the quill back in his mouth, and nibbled at the end.
Harry felt as though they were being watched. He turned toward the fire, and sure enough, Hermione was sitting there, appraising Ron with a very worried expression. It was the same type of expression she'd had when she saw Harry anonymously receive the Firebolt in their third year.
Harry suddenly realized what Hermione might be afraid of. What if the new professor was trying to harm Ron? He couldn't imagine why she'd want to harm him....but stranger things had happened.
Hermione was heading toward their table. Harry felt a fight coming on, and he desperately tried to think of some excuse to leave....
"Ron...can I talk to you?" Hermione said softly, as soon as she was standing next to their table.
Ron pulled the quill out of his mouth. "Sure, Hermione." He gestured to a chair next to him, and stuffed the quill back into his mouth.
Hermione gave Harry an apologetic look, and then said to Ron, "Can I speak with you alone?"
Harry at once felt badly that Hermione was leaving him out, but he was also partly glad because he didn't want to witness this fight. Ron had a very puzzled expression on his face, and for a long time he sat, undecided. Finally, he looked up at her, as if a light had turned on, and he looked very anxious. "Sure." Ron got up, a nervous expression on his face, and let Hermione lead him over to an isolated corner of the common room.
Harry watched the conversation from afar, which lasted briefly. He had the feeling Hermione wasn't saying what Ron had been anticipating.