Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any member of the Harry Potter universe. They belong to the estimable JK Rowling and I am infinitely grateful for her letting us borrow them to play with a bit.
Chapter Three: Classes
Hermione was ready to admit it, she was impressed.
Alright, any witch or wizard could easily have unpacked a classroom overnight, but the sheer number of items in the classroom nearly took her breath away. When Professor Binns had been teaching, the room had boasted desks and one lone chalkboard mounted into the wall. Now, the desks were arranged in a square facing inwards and there were at least five chalkboards floating around. The room had always been large, twenty foot ceilings and at least thirty feet square. Now, from the ceiling and definitely out of reach, suspended an assortment of relics that Hermione could only describe as priceless.
Ancient shaman costumes, suits of armour from the Goblin Wars, Egyptian stiles, Norse statues, pagan artefacts from at least five continents, no fewer than seven swords; and that was just what she recognised.
And dear goddess, the books!
Every wall was covered from floor to ceiling with bookcases. And every one was full. Hermione's feet moved without her knowledge and she saw her hands reaching for a book titled Grimorum Arcanorum. It wouldn't budge from its spot. Charmed against theft, she thought to herself, considering it's at least a thousand years old, probably not a bad idea.
She heard someone clear their throat behind her and turned to see a woman smiling at her.
"Admiring my library?"
Hermione nodded, "Are they all yours?"
The woman, presumably the new professor nodded in reply, "It was a family collection, but they're mine now." She gestured for Hermione to sit and she did so with a sigh of regret. To be that close to that many books all the time…
"Good morning," the woman stood in the center of the room, seemingly unperturbed to be surrounded by her students, "I apologise for arriving a week into term, but I don't think it will slow us down. I am Professor Callistas, and this is advanced History of Magic. If you are here, it means that you fully intend to take the NEWT next year. If you do not, I'm afraid that I must ask you to leave," she gestured towards the door, but no one moved.
"I'm glad we're all in agreement." She held up a hand, "Conclavo," and one of the objects suspended from the ceiling floated down to her. "No," she smiled, "that won't work for you, they're charmed so that only I can call them down." She balanced the object in the palm of her hand, "Who knows that this is?"
Nearly twenty sets of eyes from four houses turned to Hermione, but she shrugged.
Professor Callistas turned to show the object to everyone, "Not one of my sixth year students knows what this is? What if I told you it was an orb of awakening?"
Several hands shot into the air, including Hermione's. She was disappointed when the Professor called on Ernie McMillan and motioned him to stand. "It's a people trap," the boy answered, "Anyone can use it, but only the owner or a descendent of the owner can release them, and it only holds one person at a time."
"Very good, you can sit, five points to Hufflepuff. This particular orb is known as Il Conclavo, ring any bells?" When no one responded she smiled, "Alright, you have your first bit of homework. As much information as you can find on both the meaning Il Conclavo, and why this particular orb would be named it." She raised her hand in a throwing motion and the orb floated up to its spot. She called down another object, this time one of the swords. She turned it so that everyone could see that it had a core of something besides steel running from hilt to tip. "Same game."
Hermione's hand shot up but she needn't have bothered, hers was the only one. When she was called on she stood without prompting, "It's a war wand." The Professor nodded for her to continue, so she did. "Their first uses are recorded during the Crusades. As near as can be told, Hugh de Payens- the founder of the Knights Templar- was the first wizard to imbed a wand in a sword. Supposedly, the steel gives hexes, curses, and defensive spells added power, but it's really no good for simple everyday kinds of things. The spells used to imbed the wand make the magic unstable and they simply pose too much of a danger to the wielder to make them useful outside of battle."
Professor Callistas walked over to where Hermione was standing. "Impressive, fifteen points to Gryffindor." She held up the sword hilt first and asked Hermione to read it.
"Keyestone."
"This and that," she pointed towards the orb with the sword, "are connected. Fifty points to each house that has a member make the connection." She sent the sword back up to its place.
"Alright, now the purpose of that little exercise is simple. I know more than you do. There is absolutely no question about that. Although some of you might outstrip me in specific subjects, I easily surpass the sum total of all your knowledge about History of Magic. I've taught at Durmstrang for the past seven years, I know how students behave, and I will punish each and every one of you accordingly. I don't want there to be a doubt in your mind that this," she gestured, "is my classroom, and from the time you walk trough that door, to the time I decide to release you- you belong to me."
She smirked at the stunned looks on their faces, "Any questions, comments?"
Harry blinked in surprise when he entered the Defence classroom that day. For the past week, they had been taking tests to see what subjects they had actually covered in the previous five years- as someone had obviously informed Professor Forasen about the lack of stability in her job. As if passing the OWLs wasn't enough for her, he grumbled internally, but went to stand next to Ron and Hermione. Standing because all the desks had disappeared. In the front of the room was a platform, maybe five feet off the ground and spanning the length of the room- maybe twenty feet. On the walls were a collection of weapons varying from wands and stakes, to a heraldic shield and sword.
"There's a cushioning charm on the floor," Hermione pointed out and Harry bounced a few times on the balls of his feet before agreeing. It wasn't much of a cushion, but it was definitely there.
"I wonder-" Ron began but was cut off by the entrance of the professor.
She wasn't wearing any robes.
Not that she was naked, Merlin no, but what she was wearing was skintight, black, and possibly made of leather; pants, a vest, and wrist guards that laced up to her elbows. Harry wondered if his drooling was as noticeable as Crabbe's was. She walked to the front of the room and with a feline-like grace, hoisted herself onto the platform.
Forasen began to pace along the platform. "I must admit that I'm impressed you passed your Defence OWLs with such an abysmal knowledge of the theory behind the magic involved," she paused, "Wands away, and put your bags along the back wall." She ignored the mumbled protests. When they had returned she gestured, "Please sit." As one, every boy to the room dropped. The girls took a little longer to arrange themselves.
"Alright, first off, someone tell me- what sets a witch or wizard apart from Muggles?" Nearly every hand went up. "Mr. Malfoy?"
"Oh brother," Ron groaned under his breath, "This could take forever."
"We wizards are much more advanced than Muggles," he smirked.
"Not the answer I was looking for, but true in its own way." She called on Dean this time.
"We go to special schools for training to be a wizard, Muggles don't need to go to school to be Muggles."
"Closer, but still not what I'm searching for." She looked lost. Apparently she had thought this was a very easy question.
It was Hermione who found the right answer, and she did it with a sigh that spoke volumes about what she thought of everyone else's answers. "We do magic."
"Five points to Gryffindor." Professor Forasen smiled in relief, "Magic is what sets us apart from the rest of the world. Each and every one of you was born with a spark that means that you have an inherent ability to tap into the magic that surrounds us. And your use of this magic defines who you will become as a person." She held out a hand and a ball of incandescent light appeared. It wasn't large, maybe a ping-pong ball in size, but what caused the students to gasp was that she did it without her wand.
"Any witch or wizard is capable of performing some measure of wandless magic." Idly, she created another ball with her other hand, "Your inherent power determines how much magic you can do without your wand." She created another and began to juggle them, "The great witches and wizards in history could perform almost any spell using only their inherent magical powers." She threw one of the balls away and continued to toss the other two, "However, it requires a great deal of physical energy and more often than not, it's infinitely simpler to use one's wand as a conduit." She tossed away another ball and was left with one, "Mr. Finnegan," Seamus stood up quickly, "Catch." Seamus recoiled when the ball hit him and flinched. Obviously the light had hurt a bit, and it was gone now.
"I apologise, ten points to Gryffindor for being my guinea pig." She motioned him to sit. "We will begin today with the formation of an orb, the easiest wandless magic to do. Please make sure that you're comfortable, this takes a lot of concentration your first time."
For the remainder of the class, Harry sat with his hands stacked face up in front of him, trying to draw his magic from within. After two hours, he had a small glowing marble that shifted in size as he watched it. He wasn't the only one, but by no means had everyone succeeded. Neville had somehow managed to make his entire body glow from within. Professor Forasen was whispering in his ear, and miracle of miracles, whatever she was saying seemed to be working.
When it came time to end class, Professor Forasen once again hoisted herself onto the platform. "Your first homework is practice; I expect every one of you to have something to show me next class. Your second piece is two feet of scroll on the benefits and disadvantages of wandless magic, as well as a complete summary of the difference between it and wand magic. You're dismissed."
Anyone who might have thought of groaning about the assignment was too caught up in the idea of wandless magic to really complain.
Zivra sat at the High Table with a look on her face that spoke volumes about how much she wanted to be there. Actually, with the exception of the very small man whose name she was pretty sure she had not yet been given and Headmaster Dumbledore, not one professor had an expression that spoke of gleeful anticipation. Perhaps Hogwarts wasn't so different after all. Zivra personally couldn't think of anything less exciting than eating dinner and trying to hold an adult conversation over the noise of five hundred screaming teenagers. It was obvious her colleagues couldn't as well. I'm supposed to do this every night? She thought to herself, And to think I thought Durmstrang's code of silence was a bit much.
She scoped out the High Table. Down a few seats on her left were professor McGonagall and Headmaster Dumbledore, and past them was Severus Snape. He of the refined art of Potions. Beyond him, a buxom blonde was making an obvious effort to engage his attention. Lucky man, she thought. Although he looked less than happy about the situation. She didn't recognise anybody else. Well, tomorrow's a staff meeting, I'm sure I'll have plenty of time to rub shoulders there. She nearly shuddered at the thought.
She glanced at the people closer to her. One was a centaur. He was at the end of the table, and seemed to be having some sort of religious experience. She certainly hoped it wasn't the garlic rolls that were making his eyes roll back in his head like that.
She turned instead to the massive amount of man sitting to her left. As she did, he turned from the woman next to him to give her a broad grin.
"So how was your first day Professor Callistas? Me first years were nearly in awe of you."
Zivra smiled, she liked him. "It went well. Hogwarts is a lot more laid back about things than Durmstrang was, but I think I'm adjusting nicely Professor…?"
"Hagrid. Rubeus Hagrid, but e'ryone here just calls me Hagrid."
"Even your students?" she raised an eyebrow.
He looked taken aback. "Um, well… yeah. Somethin' wrong with that, Professor?"
"There's no problem, I was just curious. And please call me Zivra."
"Glad to have you here Zivra."
"I'm glad to be here." Give me a few days to adjust, and I just might mean that.
Don't laugh, don't laugh, don't laugh. Desdemona was trying, honestly she was. But he was making it so damn easy. All she had to do was flutter her lashes and say some supremely brainless bit of twattle and his whole face would contort into a mask of displeasure that would be terribly unattractive if it wasn't so damned funny.
Severus Snape, I hold you in the palm of my hand, she silently chuckled.
Although it was a bit unnerving that anyone could think she was really quite so devoid of thought.
"I always thought Potions made a great hobby for someone without a real job." She watched his jaw clench. That one had struck home. She wondered idly what he'd think of her degree in Potions. She did consider it more of a hobby for herself; Potions had never held the level of excitement required to keep her attention for long. Too much stirring and waiting and stirring and waiting and…
Was that vein actually throbbing
She choked back another entirely inappropriate laugh.
If you're gonna dig a hole… "Although teaching is a very kind thing to do, to make sure the students' education is well-rounded, even in an area so outdated." .. might as well make it a deep one.
"Professor Forasen," he turned to her. She silently congratulated herself on provoking a response out of him.
"Please call me Dessie." She fluttered some more.
"Professor Forasen," he stressed her name this time, "I am not sure when I gave you the impression that your opinion was not only welcome but desired. Rest assured that it is neither."
"I'm just trying to make conversation."
"Please, don't."
Dessie chuckled to herself. Maybe the year wasn't going to be so boring after all.