Chapter 7: Rogue Curriculum

"Okay, class," said a fiery red haired woman as she stepped daintily into Greenhouse 7 of Herbology. She had a small womanly figure, yet her attitude commanded an air of authority. She wore a green halter-topped leotard and matching gloves and boots that ended with thorn like spikes. Green eyes and tan skin gave her the appearance of a full-grown wood sprite.

The class of Gryffindors and Slytherins ceased their talking and turned to the new voice. A hum of anticipation floated in the air as every eye was on the woman.

"That's better…" The wood sprite said in a velvet dark tone of a true femme fatale. "My name is Ivy, Poison Ivy, that is. You may call me Professor, and today class…"

She sauntered over to a vicious looking Venus flytrap that was a devious shade of red and green. Razor-spiked teeth snapped randomly out at the nearest students. The plant let out a low growl like a cornered animal.

"We'll be learning about the Venomous Tentacula," the flytrap turned on Ivy at the sound of its name. "Isn't that right, baby?" she cooed and placed a gloved, green hand on the head of the fanged plant, stroking it lovingly.

The Venomous Tentacula purred and a smile seemed to spread across its jaws. It nuzzled Ivy fondly, wrapping two dark green tentacles around her knees in a child-like hug.

"What? You must be barking mad to tell us that we're going to be studying that thing," Ron said looking at the new professor.

"Are you kidding me, Ron? This is fascinating, no other teacher would've brought in a creature like this." Neville said eyeing the deadly plant with enthusiasm.

Harry muttered under his breath, "Hagrid would've..." and he left it hanging.

Ivy turned on Ron. Her eyes were as fiery as her red hair. "Well, it appears that some of you don't have as much respect for the dominant species of this world as the others." Ivy snuffed, threateningly. "Why don't we just show them what you can do, my darling." She cupped the flytrap's jaws like a mother to her child.

The Venomous Tentacula gave a low drone. The flytrap pointed its snout at Ron. A long feeler shot out suddenly from the plant's base and coiled around his ankles. With a yank, Ron was dropped to the floor. He was lifted into thin air by the tentacle, red hair flopping loosely from his head.

"GHA! What is this mad plant doing! GET ME DOWN FROM HERE!" Ron yelled as he flailed his upper body about trying to break free. "Neville, what do I do?" Ron said facing Neville.

"I-I don't know. You were the one that was calling it a mad plant," Neville said, stating the facts.

"Hermione! Help me, please!"

"I don't know what to do Ron. This plant is one that you have to study first-hand, not in a book." Hermione said, clearly not liking the fact that she was leaving Ron helpless.

"I'm sure there's a reason that they call it a 'Venomous Tentacula' though…" Harry said, a grimace spreading across his face, trying to think of ways to help Ron.

Ron stopped his flailing and hung limply, as if petrified by a Basilisk. His eyes were wide and trained on Harry.

A pleased grin and giggle escaped from Ivy. She always enjoyed seeing people in terror, especially if it was one of her precious plants that was doing the terrorizing. "I think that will make you think twice about the nature of plants, won't it?" Her grin widened.

The Venomous Tentacula jaws clamped hungrily and the feeler began to lift Ron higher, towards its awaiting mouth.

Ron let out a loud yelp as he was pulled upwards. Ignoring what Harry said about the plant being venomous, Ron began to flail about again, his arms going wild. "I'll shut up! I'll never talk about the plants again no matter how stupid they are!"

Harry smacked himself on the head at what Ron said, thinking that he might as well have just said 'Kill me'.

Ivy frowned and raised a brow, at that point she was about to let the flytrap eat him, but then she remembered. "Fine, if that's how you put it…" She stamped her foot to the earth floor in front of the Venomous Tentacula and nodded to the horrified class.

The Venomous Tentacula looked at her in shock and hung its head in disappointment. Gradually, it set Ron back on the ground.

"You're lucky we have orders not to kill you all," Ivy glowered, her voice as venomous as the plant next to her, "Class dismissed."

Ron scrambled away from the plant as quickly as he could and walked over and stood behind Harry and Hermione, keeping distance between the plant and himself.

The bell rang in the distance signaling that students should either hurry up or be late for class. The trio's second class of the day was Defense Against the Dark Arts, so they Gryffindors all headed up to the third floor.

Walking in the door they all ran towards the front seats where the frightened Ravenclaws had neglected to sit. Apparently they didn't have the same experience the Gryffindors had during Potions. Just before the bell rang, the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs filed in and took the remaining seats in the classroom. Sitting down they looked up at the new professor. He was tall and lanky, and looked as if he belonged in a cornfield keeping the crows away. He was dressed like one would dress a scarecrow, complete with the burlap sack over his head, and the straw hat atop his head. There was an educated air about him, and even the Ravenclaws looked fearful to challenge his authority.

"Well, now that it appears that everyone has arrived," the scarecrow man strode from his place next to a tall window to stand in front of the silent class. "I would like to begin class by introducing myself as your new professor. Jonathan Crane, professor of Psychology, specializing in fears and phobias, you may call me Scarecrow."

"Excuse me, Sir, but if you are a psychologist, why did you happen to choose this class?" Hermione inquired. If this guy was a professional psychologist, she would have to be at the top of her game to make sure that she was not under his influence.

"As one that is as fascinated by fear as I. I found it only fitting to choose a class that would be the most relevant model to demonstrate fear's overpowering effects on the human psyche." The Scarecrow replied, unfazed by Hermione's question.

"So, you made a proposition that this would be the most fearful class because of the Dark Arts aspect of it. As I have come to understand it, certain students in this school are in a position where they are fascinated, or are rather just required to learn about them to protect themselves in a hazardous situation, such as Harry."

"Then I assume that I have chosen the logical selection in that some may be highly intrigued by my demonstrations, Miss?" Scarecrow replied confidently. It appeared that this girl was one of those a quick-witted book worms, always on the defense to hide their weakness.

"Yes, Sir, you have made the correct selection, if you are wishing to teach those who are interested in this particular subject. However, those who do not take up a liking to this particular subject are subject to become fearful of your teachings and may in fact stop showing up for class and force their grades into the ground." Hermione said, straining to keep the upper hand.

"Then it is my assumption, it is there own error that they did not attend my classes," Scarecrow folded his arms confidently. He knew he was gaining the upper hand but enjoyed this young lady's wit in her defense against him. "But it appears that you, as one who seems particularly interested in the realm of excelling, would enjoy being of assistance to me." Scarecrow gave a triumphant smirk, knowing that she could not refuse him if she valued her life or academics.

"Of course it is their own fault that they do not attend this class," Hermione said, slowly realizing that there was no way to get out of helping this teacher with whatever plan he had formulated in his burlap sack covered head. "Of course, I would be willing to help you, Sir," Hermione said slowly getting to her feet.

"Excellent," Scarecrow smiled and offered a guiding hand to the front of the class, standing with her face towards him, her profile to the awaiting students. "Now without further ado I would like to demonstrate the first of the numerous fears we shall cover." The Scarecrow threw a clawed hand out at Hermione and a red toxic gas poured from his fingertips to engulf her.

The class gasped as the red gas surrounded Hermione. Twenty-four sets of eyes watched Hermione, waiting to see what the gas would do.

Hermione let out an ear-shattering scream as she imagined McGonagall drawing a large 'F' on her three-foot piece of parchment she wrote for a homework assignment. A vision of her messing up a brewing in Potions was enough for her to start hyperventilating, moving backwards to grip the desk behind her for support.

Scarecrow could not help but release a maniacal chuckle and grin. It was exhilarating to see fear cripple even the best of minds. "Just as I have suspected. Here, class, we have a prime example of Atychiphobia, better known as the fear of failure. It was obvious that one such as her would have such a fear being so apprehensive by the thought of plummeting grades." Scarecrow watched in fascination, his every whim hanging on what Hermione would do next.

Hermione sank to the floor clutching her knees with a river of tears streaming down her face as she began to talk to herself. "There's no way I can help you Harry! I just can't! There's no way to defeat the Dark Lord! No, Harry, don't go!" Hermione reached out helplessly with one hand. "Don't you get it Ron? We can't help him! We have no where to look! They burnt the library down during their last attack! That was our only source of information at this point!"

With that said, Malfoy had had enough. He burst out laughing and fell backwards in his chair clutching his stomach. This was just too good to be true.

Hermione's head shot up when Malfoy fell off his chair. "HARRY!" Hermione yelled running over to Malfoy and pulling him close to her. "I'm sorry, Harry! I should've been there to help you! I left you all alone, and now you're dead! Oh, what will Ron think? I told him not to come and help you because there was nothing we could do!" Hermione, in her distress, placed her forehead against Malfoy's and his face paled, if that was at all possible. He had begun to shake with disgust as Granger clung to him, crying like a five year old.

"Marvelous!" Scarecrow exclaimed, never before had he seen so must insight to a single mind in just one episode of fear. The fact Malfoy found it amusing delighted him even more, along with his small revelation of another fear. "Another case of an acute phobia, Haptephobia, otherwise known as the fear of being touched!" He exclaimed with unbridled glee. "It seems to be just one of certain dislike amongst character…" Scarecrow said more to himself, his eyes intense with obsession.

Malfoy pushed Hermione away from him and scrambled behind his chair, putting distance between himself and Hermione. Harry jumped out of his seat and walked over to Hermione, lightly pulling her to her feet. The rest of the class watched with unnerving silence as Harry led Hermione back to her seat between Ron and himself. Once they were seated Draco sat down in his seat and tried to maintain a cool exterior.

"Wonderful, simply superb," Scarecrow looked well pleased by the demonstration and the reaction of the class. "The effects of my fear toxin will subside momentarily, until then, class is dismissed."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way from the Great Hall to the first floor for transfiguration. Lunch was uneventful, unless you count what went on between Harry, Ron, and Hermione. She came to her senses a few moments after they had left Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Hermione asked Ron and Harry what had happened, because she couldn't remember duration of the lesson. They both exchanged a glance and as they all sat down at the table, the truth came out. Hermione received each detail of the experience she couldn't remember. When they reached the part about her running over and clinging to Malfoy she almost screamed. Luckily, Harry's hand covered her mouth in time and it was muffled. During lunch, no one saw Malfoy, and all of the Slytherin's that had just came from Defense Against the Dark Arts class said that he was probably getting a shower and trying to rid himself of the filth that covered him.

As they reached the door to Transfiguration in the first floor corridor, Hermione was unnaturally quiet. She pushed open the door and walked in, sitting in the middle of the classroom, having problems in classes in which she sat in the very back and when she sat in the very front. All of the Gryffindors turned to face her. Once they made eye contact with her they turned away, grinning.

Behind the professor's desk in a long back chair, a man with a rounded fanciful face and sandy blonde hair that laid untidily underneath an enormous top hat. He wore a long blue trench coat over a high-collared lime green shirt and a huge bow tie. His eyes were dazed above a large nose and he hummed a whimsical tune to himself, unaware of the filling classroom before him.

The bell rang and everyone in the classroom was seated and watching the teacher sitting in the chair at the front of the room. Many eyebrows were raised at this man's actions. The humming that was being emitted from him was the only noise that was made in the classroom, next to the bustling coming from Hermione as she pulled out all the necessary items to properly takes notes in the classroom environment.

The man then sprung to life from his seat and walked in front of his desk, a content smile tracing across his thin lips. "Good day, good day, one and all. I would like to welcome you to a class of wonder. I am you guide, the Mad Hatter." The man gave a diminutive bow and gestured to himself.

"Class of wonder? What was this mad-man playing at?" The class wondered as they watched the man with somewhat wide eyes.

"I'm agreeing with the first part of your name. You are completely mad," Ron said in a half-joking tone.

The Mad Hatter did not notice Ron's comment. In fact, he was completely unaware of the stares he was receiving from the class. "If I may have a volunteer?" He gazed over the class, hands clasped mystically. "Why not you, young man?" Hatter motioned to Harry.

"Me? Uh, no, no I'd rather-" Harry started but the rest of the class began to chant his name, no one wanted to be volunteered. Harry let out a lung full of air then said, "All right, all right, I'll do it. You happy now?" He asked the rest of the class. They all nodded at him as he walked toward the front of the classroom.

"Splendid, my dear boy!" The Mad Hatter motioned to the empty space next to him. "If you would, please?"

Cautiously, Harry walked up and stood in the space that the Mad Hatter had previously pointed to. Looking out at the class, he quietly gulped, not knowing what to expect on behalf of his previous experiences that day.

"Now, if I may, your name?" He asked casually.

"Harry, Harry Potter," Harry said dubiously, not used to the fact that someone didn't know his name.

"Well then Mr. Potter, I would just like you to relax. This won't hurt a bit," Hatter took a step behind Harry and slipped a card with the number 10/6 behind Harry's ear.

Harry visibly relaxed and then his eyes went away. He seemed to be staring at an unknown place, only visible to himself, on the back wall.

Hatter let out a quirky smile and stepped away from Harry. "Now my dear Harry," Hatter reached over to a cloth covered table and gave the fabric a yank to reveal a complete tea set including a toaster for bread, "I believe its time for tea…"

As if he were a zombie, under the will of a master, Harry walked over and sat down in the chair at the table. He proceeded to lift the teapot and pour the steaming liquid into the cup placed in front of him. Then he lifted the cream vessel and poured a slight amount into the cup. After that he spooned two teaspoons of sugar into the cup and stirred. He placed the cup to his lips with his pinkie high in the air.

Mad Hatter smiled widely. "And now the toast, if you would…"

Harry placed the toast in the toaster and pushed down the handle on the side. Then he leaned his head on his hand and sighed. "So how are you today?" Harry said to the toaster, who apparently answered. "That's great. So what's it like being a toaster anyway? I bet it must be boring just making toast your whole life. I can't stand making toast this long, but I never have been the patient kind. You have a strange accent. Is it Toastish? I've never been to Toasty, is it nice there? I heard that you specialize in grain products such as breads, strudels, and bagels." He stopped talking as the toast popped up with a clunk. "Well that was a truly invigoration conversation. Do stop by again sometime."

The Mad Hatter was giggling with joy. He loved having people under his total control. They did whatever he wished and did not even realize it. Suddenly the distant bells tolled for the end of classes and he quickly snatched the card from behind Harry's ear. "You are free to go…" He remarked to the class.