A&A&A Boarding School
Authoresses' Note: HEY! WE'RE BACK! MISS US?
Guess not. Rukuelle smacks Lydia for being so hyper. But naturally, since Rukuelle's exams are strictly not over, so she's not very happy with her sister's new freedom...
Anyhow, to thank the reviewers for the reviews that have accumulated in our long absence: southerngirl4615 (you're most supportive, thanks), Fan of Fanfic (We do think Pippin is intelligent. Just that Merry happens to think otherwise), gavvie (great you love 'Ponine), hotdogfish, Aurora GJ, me who else, Cerse Liminara (and it is bien. Lydia IS a Frenchie after all, you know), codefun (you got a problem with that, o naughty one?), Manveri Mirkiel (Hello, lissenya, says Lydia. I know what you do for GB; let's see. I'll let you off after Chapter 10. How's that, lissenya?), I AM EOWYN, Lydia's Angel (hope you liked the Verona photos), Asha Ice (when did we ever say it was a school for magic. Did we ever? Legolas will be punished for your ignorance), kismet (yes, teachers. Update HoA!), shuize (fwee!), sine, Vionny (we thank thee. You have no idea what trouble we go to with the alliteration), reicheru, Chermainey (nice you came!), and FlameTalon (computers love doing that, don't they?)
There has been a positive flood of Lydia's classmates' reviews (love you th13rteeners! says Lydia). Rukuelle's classmates never read – but not surprising, since they are immature and barely literate. Lydia said that, by the way.
We know we've been away for honest ages, and we're sorry we have only this short chapter to satisfy you with, but Lydia's been up typing for three hours straight to get this done by the 22nd. So, just read.
9. Magic and McGonagall
Tuesday morning, everyone decided to resign themselves to having for the rest of the school year, the French Revolution's reveille de matin for an alarm clock.
"Do you hear the people sing? Singing the song of angry men!"
"Mon dieu," moaned Eponine, "you can even hear them in our dormitory! Do they never know when to shut up?"
Elizabeth buried her head in her pillows and moaned.
Still rather tired from yesterday, the students reluctantly dragged themselves out of bed. Tousled and heavy-eyed, they stumbled towards the bathrooms to get themselves ready for a new day of torture at the hands of their unfeeling mentors.
"What's first subject?" yawned Harry over his bowl of cornflakes. He was desperately tired, but he had to use one arm to keep Ron from falling into the bowl of milk out of sheer sleepiness.
Hermione, who was annoyingly bright and cheery, glanced at the neatly filed, highlighted and annotated timetable. "Magic. That's great."
Ron made a noise. It could have been anything from "Pfft" to "Mmfle".
After everyone had finished their cereal and milk (except Lili, who complained the milk wasn't low-fat) they joined the crushing exodus towards the classrooms. Anna ran a hand over her eyes and focused angrily on a certain black leather hat that was bobbing amongst the crowd.
"Good morning," said Carl – another of those bright, cheery souls so inspired at the thought of early morning education that they annoy everyone else who isn't. His deskmates were suitably annoyed.
"Not a good morning," muttered Van Helsing, hat in its usual position of obscuring his face.
Anna snorted and rolled her eyes.
There was a ceasing of murmurs as Professor McGonagall strode in, robes billowing dramatically as usual. Professor McGonagall did not look pleased with early morning education either. But then she did not look pleased most of the time.
The class greeted her in subdued tones and sat down. Hermione was staring at Professor McGonagall expectantly and breathing in excitement. Harry was playing with his quill tip absent-mindedly. Ron was stoning.
"I will be teaching you different forms of magic this year," said Professor McGonagall – not looking pleased either, especially since she was the only one teaching magic with no help at all. "Magic is something very useful to most of you."
Achilles, ever the party pooper, put up his hand. "What if some of us can't do magic?"
Professor McGonagall looked down her nose at him. "I will decide whether you can do magic or not." She reached behind her and drew out an object. It was a large crystal globe, with a glowing centre emitting faint electrical rays. When it was in her hands, the electrical rays leapt out, brilliantly lemon yellow.
She strode over to the first desk and plonked the globe in front of a rather nervous Harry. "Put your hand on it," she commanded imperiously.
Harry stared at the slightly hypnotizing glow, and slowly touched the glassy surface.
Brilliant yellow rays shot out from the centre, shining through the globe. Harry jerked back in shock. The light faded, and there were only the pale flickers.
Professor McGonagall was gazing at him critically. "Wizarding magic. Try a spell, Potter."
Harry took out his wand. Up till now he had kept it in his pocket, as he had seen no need to use it. He held it before him, and tried to recall a spell. "Er. Um. Expecto patronum!"
A silver stag shimmered into being on the desk before him. Grub hiccupped in shock. Ron shot awake. Everyone else gaped.
"Very good," said Professor McGonagall at last. "Very good, Potter." She made a tick on the register she had brought along. "Now you, Weasley."
Ron gulped and touched the globe. The same thing happened, as with Harry.
"Spell," demanded Professor McGonagall.
Ron grasped his wand and chewed his lip in long thought. Eventually he stared at the desk and mumbled: "Wingardium...leviosa?"
Nothing happened. Professor McGonagall frowned. "Concentration, Weasley."
Ron glared at his wand. "Wingardium leviosa!"
His quill shot into the air and hung there. Ron breathed a sigh of relief under his carrot-shade flush.
Professor McGonagall made another tick. "Your turn, Granger."
Again the yellow reaction. Hermione tried to think of a good spell. That was the trouble with knowing so many – you couldn't decide which was the best one to show off.
Shield, thought Hermione. No, that's so last-year. Accio? Too simple. The tortoise one? Or maybe the one with the fish?
"Prokaryus angolfus!" she cried.
Her eraser disappeared into a puff of blue smoke and was replaced by a large goldfish bowl, complete with two fat goldfish bubbling in puzzlement behind the rounded glass walls. Hermione looked pleased with herself.
Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows. "Very good." She made another tick.
The globe travelled on down the row. Holly's touch turned the glow electric blue. She proved her magic gift by shielding herself. Éowyn had no magic (at which the globe stayed transparent with the usual flickers) but Artemis, most astonishingly, turned the globe silver – something he was, for once, visibly shocked by.
"Try something," advised Professor McGonagall, who was looking uncharacteristically impressed.
Artemis stared at the globe before him. What on earth could he do?
Concentrate. Make something happen. What? No idea. Just concentrate...
The globe rose slowly, hesitantly, into the air. Artemis's blue eyes held it, hovering, trembling. A lot of people stared.
Professor McGonagall plucked the ball out of mid-air before Artemis lost concentration and smashed it. "Very interesting, Fowl." Then in a low voice she added, "I've only seen one other magic like that before. Matilda Wormwood. Very interesting, your sort of magic."
Artemis blinked.
Van Helsing and Anna proved magic-less, but Carl, again astonishingly, turned the rays shimmering brown. Through a lot of effortful prayer he managed to colour the liquid in his water bottle red. Professor McGonagall nodded. "Holy magic. Indeed."
Grub, Trouble and Chix all had Fairy magic, though any sort of the craft was absent in Boromir, Faramir or Éomer. The globe travelled down the rows. The French Revolution was, unsurprisingly, without magic. Arwen's magic was deep gold.
"Elven magic," noted Professor McGonagall. "Yours is very strong."
Malfoy, as Harry expected, had wizardry, which he showed with the Serpent spell. Lili shrieked at the sight, and took much cajoling and reprimand before she would so much as put in effort to Shield herself. Haldir also had the deep gold elven magic.
Legolas had some. "But not very much," said Professor McGonagall sternly, almost as if it was his fault. "You won't be able to do much with it, but I shall put you down anyway." Legolas had mixed feelings about that. Paris didn't have any magic, and he looked forward to crowing over him. However, Helen had no magic either, and if that was so they would be in the same Magic class group. Legolas decided to settle that confusion later.
Achilles, as he had dryly expected, had no magic. Neither did Andromache. But Briseis, much to her great shock, was another with Holy Magic – although hers was lighter brown than Carl's – and she managed to cause a shining light from the ceiling by singing a hymn to Apollo. Briseis sat down as Professor McGonagall made a tick, looking still surprised but pleased.
Marius and Cosette had no magic. But Eponine crashed Cosette's pencil case rather viciously. The globe showed her magic to be yellow Wizardry. Eponine smirked as Cosette miserably picked up her pencils.
Will, to his great disappointment, had no magic. But then came the great surprise – Jack and Elizabeth actually had Wizardry.
"Wizardry!" exclaimed Elizabeth.
"Wizardry," muttered Jack. "Cool. Very cool, savvy."
The back row had no magic, but Professor McGonagall noted Frodo had a trickle of elven magic. Like Legolas, he probably couldn't do anything much with it. But it made Frodo very pleased.
To Sam's extreme amazement, the globe turned green flecked with gold at his touch. Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows again. This class contained many – abnormalities.
"What...what do I do?" whispered Sam. "I mean, I don't know no magic. My old gaffer used to say..."
"Just try," said Professor McGonagall. Almost gently. Sam gave a start, stared at her, and then back at the globe. And stared. And stared. And stared.
Those with magic could feel the tension in the air – the magical tension. Sam was trying, trying very hard. And then it happened.
CRACK.
There was a tremor. With an enormous heave, long strangly things pushed themselves out of the floor – tree roots. The stem – or trunk – snaked up, long and green, and pushed right through the desktop, which offered no resistance and broke asunder. The trunk rose till the ceiling and cracked that open as it pushed through. Large pieces of ceiling plaster fell all around, and they could see the open sky above. So they had an excellent view when the stem sprouted branches, upon which spread leaves – and no ordinary leaves, but spangled silver and gleaming gold. And then golden flowers blossomed into being upon the twigs, like breaths, like butterflies, like quivering stars.
The whole room was silent.
"A mallorn," breathed Arwen into the quiet.
Sam was gaping. He had no idea how he had just made a full-grown tree destroy the classroom ceiling.
Professor McGonagall was probably undergoing the greatest emotional display upon her face in a long time. She was visibly shocked, visibly unnerved, visibly impressed and perhaps even visibly proud. "Good, Sam," she said quietly. "Good."
Golden blossoms detached themselves from their cradles and fell sweetly like whispers onto desks and books.
Professor McGonagall smiled at Sam – an extreme compliment – and tried not to look at the ceiling. "Those with Wizardry and without wands, follow me. Sam, perhaps you'd like to come with me to see the Lady Galadriel about your – magic." She turned upon her heel abruptly and became her normal critical self again. She scribbled a spell on the board for those with magic and passed a stack of paper to those without. "With magic, follow the directions according to your own talents. Those without, do your homework and study Wiccan tribal voodoo. Don't cause any trouble at all. Or else." Then she swept out of the room, the students following, Sam meekly at the rear.
"It's so cool!" exclaimed Pippin for the sixth time.
"What did Galadriel say, Sam?" Frodo wanted to know.
Sam shook his head. He preferred to keep his conversation with the Lady confidential, even from his dearest friend.
"It's so cool!" repeated Pippin.
Jack caught up with them. He was flipping his new wand expertly between his fingers. "Hey, lad. You've got some bonny flowers over there."
"That was amazing," gushed Hermione from behind Frodo. "I mean, I've never seen anything like that."
"Vanya," sighed Arwen.
"It's so cool!" regurgitated Pippin.
"Hey, kid," called Achilles. "Great job with destroying the classroom."
"Tu es trés intelligente," complimented Feuilly.
"Bloody brilliant," agreed Ron.
"Absolutely fantastic," stated Éowyn.
"You're really brave," added Anna. "Imagine taking private lessons from Galadriel, urgh."
"Yo dude!" shouted Faramir. "That was way cool, man. You rock."
"It's so cool!" reiterated Pippin.
Merry clapped a hand over the younger hobbit's mouth. "I think, Peregrin Took, that you've said enough. Move those legs of yours before we're late for Aesthetics."
"Aesthetics again," moaned Holly. "I could die."
Sam said nothing. He was still extremely bewildered over all the attention and popularity he had suddenly gained. It was about as easy to fathom as the growing of that mallorn. Well, he should enjoy it while it lasted. Like his old gaffer had said, take things as they come. You never know when they go.
End of ChapterNext chapter coming...Performing Arts and the Phantom of the Opera