Chapter 2
Next DADA class. Gandalf arrives to the room, rather late, again, and grumbling something about "useless as Radagast."
Gandalf: I hope you are all plenty well prepared for today's lesson. It seems this Mr. Dumbledore fellow is one of the least powerful Maiar i have ever encountered. He doesn't even know what a Hobbit is and he is surrounded by you little people! And when i mentioned going to war about this elvish oppression matter he seemed about as concerned as a Khazad is about anything that doesnt glitter! So i see it is left up to me again, the only truly capable wizard, since the first age. I must organize you young Hobbits and teach you what you need to know to defend not only yourselves against these Dark Arts, but also the elves... never have i seen such dark days! Why, even during the War of the Ring elves had the power to stand against Sauron....
Gandalf stops, at LONG last, when he realizes how many are sleeping soundly.
Gandalf: Hmm... they remind me of old Bombur...
The only one really paying any attention to all this is, of course, Hermione.
Hermione: Mr. Gandalf, it is wonderful to see a professor here really concerned with the defending the poor little, helpless house elves.
Gandalf: Oh what a dark age this is! But why are these called "house" elves? Are there no more wood elves? What about green elves? What became of all the Galadhrim? I should like to see Mirkwood again, how fares old Thranduil? Surely he isnt one of these oppressed elves, no one could even stand the bastar... never mind.
At this point, even Hermione is beginning to drift off.
Gandalf notices the lack of attention being paid to him and spares the class the rest of his rants, for today, anyway. He grabs his staff and shoots a couple sparks from it, which are considerably loud and fly about the room at an appalling rate. The class sits up in rapt attention, hoping to see more of Gandalf's pyrotechnics.
Gandalf: (clears throat) Well, as I was saying -
The class groans, expecting another long rant about a ring, and a dark lord and something about the end of the world.
Gandalf: Today we are going to be discussing Ringwraiths. I was going to bring one in to show you, but since I could not find one, I have found the next best thing...
Gandalf goes to his closet and pulls out a tall, cloaked figure. The class screams as they think it is a dementor.
Gandalf: Now, now, young Hobbits, this is not a real Ringwraith. I assure you, if it were, you would know.
The class looks doubtful.
Gandalf: Now, you will note that Ringwraith's were once men. They were given rings of power by Sauron the deceiver and were doomed to wander the earth, a shadow of their former selves.... You will also kindly note that the Ringwraith's scream.
Gandalf prods the cloaked figure and several grumbles are heard from inside it. The class looks slightly relieved as they know dementors do not make such noises (thank you, dear Professor Lupin).
Gandalf: Grima, if you will not assist me...
Cloaked figure: I am NOT Grima!
Gandalf: Well you certainly look like him!
The cloaked figure throws back his hood, revealing a very, very irate Snape.
The class bursts into laughter. Snape looks even more irate, if that is possible, and storms out of the classroom.
Gandalf: That, young Hobbits, is why you should never trust one of the Rohirrim. Grima 'Wormtongue' is a very close ally to Saruman, who you call Voldemort.
Ron: See, even this loony old buzzard knows that Snape is a Death Eater.
Seamus: Who are the Rohirrim?
Gandalf: Best not to say. Just know that they cry a lot... a lot. So, you ask, how does a young Hobbit defend against a Ringwraith like that. Well, one method of defense, for Hobbits at any rate, is stones. You are all so naturally apt at stone throwing, that is a given. Another good defense for you all... (Gandalf reaches into his magic bag of tricks and produces two handfuls of...) butter knives!
Gandalf distributes them to the students.
Gandalf: Now, i noticed your reaction to swords, bows, and axes, and having done a quick study of modern Hobbits, i see you are often portrayed wielding butter knives. Of course, in my day, Hobbits rarely left the table long enough to let go of their butter knives, and they always kept their forks. Rare was the Hobbit who actually knew how to use a sword. My dear friend Bilbo had a most excellent sword called Sting. It was made by the elves, you know! It shone blue when orcs were about. Let it be known, i never had anything to do with Bilbo's adventure, however. Now, Peregrin and Meriadoc, they were most accomplished in defense with a sword. But i didnt have anything to do with that either, that was all Boro-bastard's doing.
By now the majority of the class has fallen to sleep again, leaving Gandalf standing there recounting his travels with the Fellowship. Since elves havent been mentioned, even Hermione isnt paying attention. Gandalf shoots off a couple fireworks again, purely arbitrarily, and everyone is again wide awake.
Gandalf: It seems you all bathe in the River Running, do you? Else wise, a bit too much of the old vineyard last night? Well, be on your way, young Hobbits. But keep your butter knives close. These are very dark times! Perhaps next time we meet you will all have finished reading the course texts?