Chapter Nine
Newcomers
"Bella! You ready?" said a voice in her ear that of Vincent Crabbe, jarring her a little and making her smear the ink on her parchment, "We've got class, you know. You're not on your own anymore."
"Oh, yeah," said Bella, whose attention had been absorbed, not by homework but by the parchment on which she had been absently trying to sketch her roommate, Emma Woodruff, from across the table. It wasn't a bad one, she thought, as she stuck it in between the pages of a book and stuffed the lot of it into her bag. "Come on, Emma. First day, we shouldn't be late."
The other girl roused herself from her pose and cricked her neck. "What do we have now?" she asked.
Bella fished around in her bag and pulled out her schedule. She cocked an eyebrow. "Defence Against the Dark Arts," she said, beginning to walk with the two of them. "With Carmichael. Ever hear of him?"
"No," said Crabbe and Emma in turn.
Bella shrugged. "Lets get a move on, then. I want a look at him before all the rest of Slytherin and..." she looked back down at the schedule and looked back up with a little smile, "Oh, and Gryffindor, comes crowding round."
They met Draco on their way to class, but Bella could tell by the way he dragged his feet that he was not so anxious to get there as the rest of them. She gave him a curious look, but he just shook his head and kept walking.
Rounding the corner, they saw a good sized group of students already gathered at the door of the classroom, but it seemed to be locked and their new teacher was nowhere in sight. They waited, but before long the whole hall was crowded, and there had been no point to getting there early. Bella shrugged. "At least we'll get good seats."
With all the noise and bustle of the other students around them it took Bella a moment to hear the raised voice of- presumably- their new teacher, saying, "Settle down now, settle down! There, now, at least let me at the door."
And Bella saw the crowd parting for a tall and exceedingly thin and spindly man with a wrinkled, sun-browned face and a shock of short, thick white hair. She saw him very close, in fact, as she, Emma, and Draco were right next to the classroom door by then. He cast a look at them that lingered, in Bella's opinion, a little longer than on the other students, and not in a way that she liked. He gave a little cough and pulled out the keys, turning away from them. Once again she looked at Draco, but now his eyes had narrowed and his face was getting that challenging, cocksure look that came to him so naturally. But Bella thought with a pang that it wouldn't carry the same weight with anyone now that his father was in prison. She swallowed hard, and followed the teacher through the now open classroom doors.
Professor Carmichael stood stiffly in front of his desk and watched as the class took their seats, and waited silently as they settled down. He did not speak a word until the classroom had fallen into a dead and expectant silence, and every eye was fixed on him. He seemed impatient, as though he had very little time to say his piece but wanted to make sure they were all listening.
"Good afternoon, class," he said in a cheerful but still flat-sounding voice. "My name is Professor Baltus Carmichael. Now, I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I know none of yours. But," and as he said it his voice slowed and his eyes swept the room, once again lighting on Bella and her companions for a little longer than everyone else, "the funny thing about teaching is that one gets to see the older generation reflected in the younger. You," and he pointed to a boy with brilliant red hair who was sitting a few desks away from Bella, "What's your name?"
"Weasly, sir, Ron Weasly," he said, sounding surprised.
"I thought so," said Professor Carmichael. "Well, enough of that." He coughed again, more officiously this time, like someone starting a speech. "I am your new Defence Against the Dark Arts Teacher. I know you've heard five others before me say that, and I know what became of all of them. I, however, am not one to be frightened away by a dangerous job, and it seems that after a long time, you children will have a competent teacher at the front of this classroom, one who will prepare you for those dangers awaiting you out there, in the world beyond the walls of Hogwarts.
"He Who Must Not Be Named has returned." He paused for a moment, as if to let this sink in as the class shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Bella looked around. Ron Weasly, the red haired one, was looking intently at Carmichael. He was sitting between a girl with thick, bushy brown hair, and another boy, who Bella recognized in an instant when he too looked around the class, and she saw his hair shift away from the pale scar on his forehead. He turned back to the front of the class, his face grim. Bella felt her eyes widen in spite of herself. She heard Draco give a little snort beside her, but she didn't heed him. So that was Harry Potter, she thought. The Boy Who Lived. She turned her eyes back to Professor Carmichael as he went on.
"The darkest wizard of our time, and perhaps of all times, and he is threatening us, to the last one. I know, also, that You Know Who had his sympathizers. There were those, and still are those, who believe he is in the right, that even his most depraved and horrible means are justified to achieve his ends. They are misguided, but this is no reason for sympathy. Many of You Know Who's followers are nearly as bad as he is. And, though I am not trying to frighten you, it is from them that the worst danger comes. Do not forget this in years to come! The faces you see around you every day may hide terrible secrets, and those same faces may hide beneath the masks of Death Eaters and swear allegiance to He Who Must Not Be Named. I do not say this because I want you to distrust one another, but to make you think carefully about whom you trust." Once again he looked around the classroom. "In this class we will study, in some depth, the methods employed by You Know Who to gain followers. We will discuss at length the methods that we may employ to resist them, and to recognise them. I understand that, two years ago, you were given some in-class demonstrations of the Imperius Curse?"
The room was filled with murmurs of assent. Carmichael nodded. "I gather it was actually tested on certain students. Give me a show of hands, how many of you were able to resist it, if only for a while?"
A few hands went up, belonging to both Slytherin and Gryffindor students. Carmichael took this in and continued. "Very good, very good. Now, were there any able to throw it off completely?" One hand remained in the air. Bella saw that it was Potter's, and felt decidedly impressed. She had never had the chance to resist an Imperius Curse, but she could tell it was a rare achievement. "Yes, I heard of your accomplishment. Mr. Potter, am I correct?"
"Yes, sir," he said quietly. Nodding again, Carmichael pressed on.
"That is a very great accomplishment, Mr. Potter, if you don't mind me saying so."
Here Draco leaned over and whispered to her, "You know he never does." But Bella could tell, even from Potter's slouched shoulders and the back of his bowed head that he did mind, and rather a lot. But he kept silent, and Carmichael went on, oblivious.
"It saddens, but does not surprise me that there is only one person in this classroom who has the strength of will to throw off the Imperius Curse. But it is this very strength of will and mind that I hope to cultivate in you all during the next year.
"Between the Imperius Curse and many other methods of coercion, blackmail, and threats, You Know Who gains followers and spies with great speed. You will learn to resist these things. The Dark Followers will try to take control of you, lie to you, and ensnare you, even to the point of penetrating your very mind. They will make you betray yourself and the ones you love, even if you think you are acting to protect them. These are dangerous times, and we must remain on our guard,
"And that is, in the end, what I am here to teach you. You must take no chances. Those who have joined willingly and those who have been forced to serve the dark forces are one and the same when you are fighting against them. Perhaps you didn't need to be told that. Perhaps you did. But you must keep it in mind both in the classroom and out of it, because I am afraid that no amount of simple knowledge will defend an unwary wizard against an attack from You Know Who.
"Now, I feel that you have been adequately prepared. Let's move on to the first lesson, shall we?"
Bella looked around at Draco. He was pale and silent, and when he met Bella's eyes his gaze was icy and desperate. He looked like an animal in a trap. But he must have known Bella would see that look. Bella could tell he was in hell, but all of a sudden it hit her that he didn't care she knew. At least he trusted her that much. Crabbe and Goyle were sitting close by, frowning to one another and muttering about the teacher in low tones. But they didn't share Draco's cold, silent fury.
By the time the bell rang, Carmichael had been lecturing for the whole period about traps that Voldemort laid for the weak of mind to trick them into serving him, and of all the methods Professor Carmichael's seemed to be blackmail. He said that the best way to keep out of that trap was to walk the clean living straight and narrow and not do anything one could be blackmailed with in the first place. It had started sounding like a sermon towards the end. Bella hoped the whole year wouldn't sound like a wizarding tent revival.
As they filed out of the classroom, Bella felt the teacher's eyes on her back again. He didn't like her, she knew. He didn't like any of them, and Bella knew why. He hadn't been talking about Ron Weasly when he mentioned all that stuff about seeing the older generation reflected in their children. No, Bella knew exactly what he meant, and she didn't like it at all.
Their next class was Potions, and the topic of conversation had jumped from Carmichael to the unknown whereabouts of Professor Snape. Last night at the feast in the Great Hall, Bella had seen all the teachers she knew at the high table, and Professor Carmichael as well. But she had seen no one else she didn't recognise, and surely enough, Professor Snape hadn't been there. And now, as they walked down the cold stairway to the dungeons, Bella's curiosity had her almost at her wits end. When they reached the classroom, they found the door open, but the teacher's desk was untenanted.
"Is he usually here at the beginning of class?" Bella asked Draco, who had taken a seat beside her.
He shrugged. His humour had improved since they had left Carmichael's class. "Yeah, but he might be farther back in the dungeons, you know, bringing something out..."
But Draco's thought was interrupted by the sound of the classroom door swinging shut. Everyone fell silent and looked up, and saw the last thing that any one of them, except perhaps Bella, had expected.
At the front of the classroom stood a short, pretty, round-faced woman in dove-grey robes. She smiled invitingly at them all for a moment before she spoke.
"Hello, everyone. I'm sure you can tell I'm not your regular teacher." There was a murmur of laughter through the classroom. "Professor Snape is away at the moment, and I am to be your substitute until he returns. My name is Professor Esmeralda Constantino."
There were more murmurs from the class, but nobody said anything important aloud until Bella saw a hand go up at the front of the classroom. It was the bushy haired girl.
"Please, Professor Constantino, where is Professor Snape?"'
The teacher turned to her. "I'm afraid I can't tell you, Miss, er..."
"Granger, ma'am, Hermione Granger."
"Well, Miss Granger, I'm afraid I just don't know. Don't worry though, I'll take good care of the class in the mean time." She smiled broadly, with her dark eyes shining.
"I wonder how long he'll be gone," whispered Bella to Goyle at the next table.
"Dunno," he said, with a lift of his hands. "Snape's never done this before. Never even missed a day."
"Well," said Professor Constantino, "I think we can move on from the introductions. According to the instructions Professor Snape sent, you are to begin the term with the Draught of Happiness. Can anyone tell me some of its properties, other than the obvious?"
A few hands went up, and Bella's was one of them. She looked hard at Professor Constantino. This was going to be a very strange year.
Newcomers
"Bella! You ready?" said a voice in her ear that of Vincent Crabbe, jarring her a little and making her smear the ink on her parchment, "We've got class, you know. You're not on your own anymore."
"Oh, yeah," said Bella, whose attention had been absorbed, not by homework but by the parchment on which she had been absently trying to sketch her roommate, Emma Woodruff, from across the table. It wasn't a bad one, she thought, as she stuck it in between the pages of a book and stuffed the lot of it into her bag. "Come on, Emma. First day, we shouldn't be late."
The other girl roused herself from her pose and cricked her neck. "What do we have now?" she asked.
Bella fished around in her bag and pulled out her schedule. She cocked an eyebrow. "Defence Against the Dark Arts," she said, beginning to walk with the two of them. "With Carmichael. Ever hear of him?"
"No," said Crabbe and Emma in turn.
Bella shrugged. "Lets get a move on, then. I want a look at him before all the rest of Slytherin and..." she looked back down at the schedule and looked back up with a little smile, "Oh, and Gryffindor, comes crowding round."
They met Draco on their way to class, but Bella could tell by the way he dragged his feet that he was not so anxious to get there as the rest of them. She gave him a curious look, but he just shook his head and kept walking.
Rounding the corner, they saw a good sized group of students already gathered at the door of the classroom, but it seemed to be locked and their new teacher was nowhere in sight. They waited, but before long the whole hall was crowded, and there had been no point to getting there early. Bella shrugged. "At least we'll get good seats."
With all the noise and bustle of the other students around them it took Bella a moment to hear the raised voice of- presumably- their new teacher, saying, "Settle down now, settle down! There, now, at least let me at the door."
And Bella saw the crowd parting for a tall and exceedingly thin and spindly man with a wrinkled, sun-browned face and a shock of short, thick white hair. She saw him very close, in fact, as she, Emma, and Draco were right next to the classroom door by then. He cast a look at them that lingered, in Bella's opinion, a little longer than on the other students, and not in a way that she liked. He gave a little cough and pulled out the keys, turning away from them. Once again she looked at Draco, but now his eyes had narrowed and his face was getting that challenging, cocksure look that came to him so naturally. But Bella thought with a pang that it wouldn't carry the same weight with anyone now that his father was in prison. She swallowed hard, and followed the teacher through the now open classroom doors.
Professor Carmichael stood stiffly in front of his desk and watched as the class took their seats, and waited silently as they settled down. He did not speak a word until the classroom had fallen into a dead and expectant silence, and every eye was fixed on him. He seemed impatient, as though he had very little time to say his piece but wanted to make sure they were all listening.
"Good afternoon, class," he said in a cheerful but still flat-sounding voice. "My name is Professor Baltus Carmichael. Now, I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I know none of yours. But," and as he said it his voice slowed and his eyes swept the room, once again lighting on Bella and her companions for a little longer than everyone else, "the funny thing about teaching is that one gets to see the older generation reflected in the younger. You," and he pointed to a boy with brilliant red hair who was sitting a few desks away from Bella, "What's your name?"
"Weasly, sir, Ron Weasly," he said, sounding surprised.
"I thought so," said Professor Carmichael. "Well, enough of that." He coughed again, more officiously this time, like someone starting a speech. "I am your new Defence Against the Dark Arts Teacher. I know you've heard five others before me say that, and I know what became of all of them. I, however, am not one to be frightened away by a dangerous job, and it seems that after a long time, you children will have a competent teacher at the front of this classroom, one who will prepare you for those dangers awaiting you out there, in the world beyond the walls of Hogwarts.
"He Who Must Not Be Named has returned." He paused for a moment, as if to let this sink in as the class shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Bella looked around. Ron Weasly, the red haired one, was looking intently at Carmichael. He was sitting between a girl with thick, bushy brown hair, and another boy, who Bella recognized in an instant when he too looked around the class, and she saw his hair shift away from the pale scar on his forehead. He turned back to the front of the class, his face grim. Bella felt her eyes widen in spite of herself. She heard Draco give a little snort beside her, but she didn't heed him. So that was Harry Potter, she thought. The Boy Who Lived. She turned her eyes back to Professor Carmichael as he went on.
"The darkest wizard of our time, and perhaps of all times, and he is threatening us, to the last one. I know, also, that You Know Who had his sympathizers. There were those, and still are those, who believe he is in the right, that even his most depraved and horrible means are justified to achieve his ends. They are misguided, but this is no reason for sympathy. Many of You Know Who's followers are nearly as bad as he is. And, though I am not trying to frighten you, it is from them that the worst danger comes. Do not forget this in years to come! The faces you see around you every day may hide terrible secrets, and those same faces may hide beneath the masks of Death Eaters and swear allegiance to He Who Must Not Be Named. I do not say this because I want you to distrust one another, but to make you think carefully about whom you trust." Once again he looked around the classroom. "In this class we will study, in some depth, the methods employed by You Know Who to gain followers. We will discuss at length the methods that we may employ to resist them, and to recognise them. I understand that, two years ago, you were given some in-class demonstrations of the Imperius Curse?"
The room was filled with murmurs of assent. Carmichael nodded. "I gather it was actually tested on certain students. Give me a show of hands, how many of you were able to resist it, if only for a while?"
A few hands went up, belonging to both Slytherin and Gryffindor students. Carmichael took this in and continued. "Very good, very good. Now, were there any able to throw it off completely?" One hand remained in the air. Bella saw that it was Potter's, and felt decidedly impressed. She had never had the chance to resist an Imperius Curse, but she could tell it was a rare achievement. "Yes, I heard of your accomplishment. Mr. Potter, am I correct?"
"Yes, sir," he said quietly. Nodding again, Carmichael pressed on.
"That is a very great accomplishment, Mr. Potter, if you don't mind me saying so."
Here Draco leaned over and whispered to her, "You know he never does." But Bella could tell, even from Potter's slouched shoulders and the back of his bowed head that he did mind, and rather a lot. But he kept silent, and Carmichael went on, oblivious.
"It saddens, but does not surprise me that there is only one person in this classroom who has the strength of will to throw off the Imperius Curse. But it is this very strength of will and mind that I hope to cultivate in you all during the next year.
"Between the Imperius Curse and many other methods of coercion, blackmail, and threats, You Know Who gains followers and spies with great speed. You will learn to resist these things. The Dark Followers will try to take control of you, lie to you, and ensnare you, even to the point of penetrating your very mind. They will make you betray yourself and the ones you love, even if you think you are acting to protect them. These are dangerous times, and we must remain on our guard,
"And that is, in the end, what I am here to teach you. You must take no chances. Those who have joined willingly and those who have been forced to serve the dark forces are one and the same when you are fighting against them. Perhaps you didn't need to be told that. Perhaps you did. But you must keep it in mind both in the classroom and out of it, because I am afraid that no amount of simple knowledge will defend an unwary wizard against an attack from You Know Who.
"Now, I feel that you have been adequately prepared. Let's move on to the first lesson, shall we?"
Bella looked around at Draco. He was pale and silent, and when he met Bella's eyes his gaze was icy and desperate. He looked like an animal in a trap. But he must have known Bella would see that look. Bella could tell he was in hell, but all of a sudden it hit her that he didn't care she knew. At least he trusted her that much. Crabbe and Goyle were sitting close by, frowning to one another and muttering about the teacher in low tones. But they didn't share Draco's cold, silent fury.
By the time the bell rang, Carmichael had been lecturing for the whole period about traps that Voldemort laid for the weak of mind to trick them into serving him, and of all the methods Professor Carmichael's seemed to be blackmail. He said that the best way to keep out of that trap was to walk the clean living straight and narrow and not do anything one could be blackmailed with in the first place. It had started sounding like a sermon towards the end. Bella hoped the whole year wouldn't sound like a wizarding tent revival.
As they filed out of the classroom, Bella felt the teacher's eyes on her back again. He didn't like her, she knew. He didn't like any of them, and Bella knew why. He hadn't been talking about Ron Weasly when he mentioned all that stuff about seeing the older generation reflected in their children. No, Bella knew exactly what he meant, and she didn't like it at all.
Their next class was Potions, and the topic of conversation had jumped from Carmichael to the unknown whereabouts of Professor Snape. Last night at the feast in the Great Hall, Bella had seen all the teachers she knew at the high table, and Professor Carmichael as well. But she had seen no one else she didn't recognise, and surely enough, Professor Snape hadn't been there. And now, as they walked down the cold stairway to the dungeons, Bella's curiosity had her almost at her wits end. When they reached the classroom, they found the door open, but the teacher's desk was untenanted.
"Is he usually here at the beginning of class?" Bella asked Draco, who had taken a seat beside her.
He shrugged. His humour had improved since they had left Carmichael's class. "Yeah, but he might be farther back in the dungeons, you know, bringing something out..."
But Draco's thought was interrupted by the sound of the classroom door swinging shut. Everyone fell silent and looked up, and saw the last thing that any one of them, except perhaps Bella, had expected.
At the front of the classroom stood a short, pretty, round-faced woman in dove-grey robes. She smiled invitingly at them all for a moment before she spoke.
"Hello, everyone. I'm sure you can tell I'm not your regular teacher." There was a murmur of laughter through the classroom. "Professor Snape is away at the moment, and I am to be your substitute until he returns. My name is Professor Esmeralda Constantino."
There were more murmurs from the class, but nobody said anything important aloud until Bella saw a hand go up at the front of the classroom. It was the bushy haired girl.
"Please, Professor Constantino, where is Professor Snape?"'
The teacher turned to her. "I'm afraid I can't tell you, Miss, er..."
"Granger, ma'am, Hermione Granger."
"Well, Miss Granger, I'm afraid I just don't know. Don't worry though, I'll take good care of the class in the mean time." She smiled broadly, with her dark eyes shining.
"I wonder how long he'll be gone," whispered Bella to Goyle at the next table.
"Dunno," he said, with a lift of his hands. "Snape's never done this before. Never even missed a day."
"Well," said Professor Constantino, "I think we can move on from the introductions. According to the instructions Professor Snape sent, you are to begin the term with the Draught of Happiness. Can anyone tell me some of its properties, other than the obvious?"
A few hands went up, and Bella's was one of them. She looked hard at Professor Constantino. This was going to be a very strange year.