Chapter 8: Positive Behaviour Management
McGonagall sat in her headmistress's chair, staring down the two students seated opposite her. She wore her Inquisitor Mask, a stern, cold expression designed to strike fear into the hearts of even the most brazen Gryffindor. It seemed to be working on poor Hermione, who looked like she was about to burst into tears. Harry, on the other hand, merely regarded her with a patient look, and she feared he had grown impervious to her glares. She knew he was gearing up for his argument.
"First of all," said Harry. "I want to apologize. What I did was wrong. It was your classroom, and I should have asked first before making modifications without your consent."
"Quite right, Potter," she said coolly. "And I suppose you're about to explain to me exactly why I should have allowed it in the first place?"
Harry cringed, and McGonagall felt a bit of satisfaction. "Well, I…I did want to explain why I did it. The paper clip experiment you assigned us is scientifically accurate, but it was very simple. It's something Muggle children learn in primary school. I wanted to adapt it for high school age students."
"How exactly is putting a giant tank of water in the middle of my classroom supposed to improve the experiment?"
"If we have a bigger tank, it's easier to practice with larger items. With my experiment, it would allow students to measure more than just surface tension. We could also consider factors like buoyancy, density, surface area, and curvature."
McGonagall sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "The students didn't conjure those paperclips. What were they transfigured from?"
"Umm…little paperclips. Hermione had five packs in her pouch."
"I didn't know that's what you'd do with them!" cried Hermione, tearing up. "I didn't have any part in this, McGonagall!"
"Hush, child," said McGonagall. "I know it wasn't your fault. It's clearly the work of someone who thinks the rules don't apply to him."
"Well…" said Harry, glowering. "For the record, I did apologize."
McGonagall tented her fingers and considered the situation. Harry Potter, the boy who barely cast a shadow in her class, had spent the last two days peacocking around her classroom. She could only think of one or two things that would cause this kind of behaviour. Neither of them, unfortunately, responded well to correction in the form of detentions.
"I think I understand what is going on," said McGonagall. "You are both young people, and you have all these new feelings and emotions. It's normal to be confused about how to handle them."
Hermione's eyes grew wide and she blushed, but Harry just gave her a bored look. So, probably not that then, at least for him. She switched tactics.
"I've seen this happen quite a lot with young Ravenclaws, especially. Your brilliant minds are a magnet for trouble, unless you're given the chance to use them productively."
"Professor McGonagall?" said Hermione, looking confused.
"You're both bored. My classes, and I assume your classes in general, are not challenging enough for you. I've suspected this with Harry for some time, but now that I see how you react to each other, I'm certain of it. You need more intellectual stimulation than I can give you."
McGonagall watched for their reaction. Harry was leaning forward in his chair, curious to see what she would say next. Hermione studied her hands in her lap, though McGonagall knew she heard every word. McGonagall crossed the room to her shelf, which contained countless magical artefacts, most inherited and with unknown functions. She kept telling herself that one day she needed to sit down and figure out what each thing did, but she had enough on her plate, and ancient magic liked to be incredibly difficult to decipher. It might be possible, if she had the elder wand, but that had disappeared with Dumbledore. It sounded like a headache best saved for the next headmistress.
McGonagall pulled the palm-sized, white dome off the bottom shelf. It pulsed faintly as she carried it over to the desk.
"What is that?" asked Harry.
McGonagall couldn't keep the pride out of her voice when she answered, "This is an ancient device created by the founders of Hogwarts. They had the foresight to understand that some wizards and witches would be so powerful, that not even their great school would have enough knowledge to educate them. So, they used the well of magic deep within Hogwarts to generate quests, each one designed to test the virtues of a specific house. If the student can pass the quest, they receive a reward. If they fail, they are punished."
Harry stared at the device, which was pulsing a light red as she spoke. "Huh," he said. "So the quests are like extra credit for Hogwarts students. In that case, I'm guessing that this device is the only means to unlock them?"
"Yes," said McGonagall. "Once the headmistress unlocks the quests, that student is able to use their wand to open the portal into the quest realm. You could bring a guest, but it could change the dynamic of the game and put you at risk. These quests are not easy."
"Have you tried it before?" asked Harry.
"Once or twice," said McGonagall. "Though if you want hints, Harry, I suggest you play the game and find out for yourself."
Harry waved his hand. "Oh no, please, I would prefer that you don't give me hints. But…I do have one question. Is there some kind of legendary item that you can win if you've completed a certain number of quests? Perhaps an artefact like Ravenclaw's Diadem, for instance? Or does every new quest reset the system, and you can't accumulate any points?"
McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "I suppose you'll have to figure that out."
One of the items on her shelf made a whistling noise, and Harry glanced at it before turning back and rubbing a hand over his head. In that quick movement, McGonagall was struck by how much he looked like his father. She'd often dragged James into her office with Sirius, and while she berated them, they would sit there the whole time, acting contrite and telling her what they thought she wanted to hear. Inevitably, she'd drag them back in again a week later for the same offense.
"Are the quests dangerous?" asked Hermione.
"Some of them, if you're not careful," said McGonagall.
"We're very careful," said Harry, nodding firmly. "I'm always prepared for any emergency, and Hermione is careful even though she's almost indestructible. In fact, I think if you open these quests, it would make sense for you to give us the most challenging scenario, if that's an option."
"Humm," said McGonagall. "What do you think, Hermione?"
She blinked. "About what?"
"Would you like to do easier quests, or more difficult ones?"
She frowned, glancing at Harry. "Umm…I don't know."
"How about easy, then?" suggested McGonagall, making a little turn on the dial. "Please give me your wand, Hermione."
Harry straightened up in his seat. "Professor," he said. "Her quests should match my level. It wouldn't be a fair..."
He cut off, his face filling with horror. "You will be giving me quests too, right? You wouldn't just say all those things before to get my hopes up—"
"Well, you can go on quests with Hermione, if she wants to invite you."
Harry looked aghast. "Professor! I know I messed up today, but normally I have demonstrated very good behaviour and sound judgment! I saved the school at least twice! Remember, last year when time fractured and I had to come up with a way to get all the timelines together again? And furthermore, Hermione's not even a student here, so she can't be among the best at Hogwarts!"
"We'll see about that," said McGonagall. "Try tapping your wand on the dome, Hermione."
Hermione held her wand, her frown creating faint worry lines on her forehead. "If I change my mind, can you reverse it?"
"Yes," said McGonagall.
Hermione touched her wand to the dome. It glowed a deep, Ravenclaw blue, and then cycled through the other four colours, before emitting a sound like a lock being unlatched.
Hermione slowly lowered her wand, with a hint of a smile. "I guess…Hogwarts still thinks I'm a Ravenclaw."
McGonagall smiled, her heart softening. "The Sorting Hat is a bit stubborn about these things.
Harry folded his arms. "That's all well and good, then. I suppose you'll just leave this other Ravenclaw to do his maths homework or something."
McGonagall gave him her Inquisitor Stare. He sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Let's start over. I understand that this is your device, Professor, and I have no strict claim to its use, no matter how many good deeds I have done. However, if you're doing this to teach me some kind of lesson about obedience or humility or whatever, would you please consider another method? For example, I think a few detentions with Hagrid cleaning the animal pens would be suitably humbling." She gave him a look, and he raised his hands placatingly. "I'm not trying to impede on your rights as teacher, I'm only asking because it's necessary. I cannot stress enough how important these quests will be to my research, for the sake of all mankind."
An unheard (to everyone but her) warning sound announced that someone was coming in by Floo system. The fireplace blazed, and Mad Eye Moody spun in with his wand held at the ready, his brilliant blue eye searching around the room.
"Good afternoon, Headmistress," he said. "Getting into trouble already, children?"
McGonagall stood up. "I'll escort them out."
As she led them to the door, Harry glanced up at her, his gaze level. "Since we didn't have time to finish talking, I'm going to assume this conversation isn't over. I'll take some time to think about my actions and then we can calmly discuss this situation later, at which point perhaps we can come to an agreement about appropriate punishment."
McGonagall sighed and let them out the door, with the sense that if Mad Eye hadn't interrupted them, she would have had to throw him out.
Minerva and Alastor sat in the Headmaster's office, exchanging pleasantries. It didn't last long. After years of seeing their number of friends dwindling, the conversation felt stilted, like it was missing its arms and legs.
"The room still feels so empty without Snape brooding nearby," said Alastor, gripping the arms of his chair as he settled in.
Minerva smiled. "Or Albus. He never would change out of those silly pyjamas."
Alastor chuckled, though it came out rough like a cough. "The old coot bested me. I never figured out if he was crazy or pretending to be crazy."
Minerva shrugged, but she suspected it was both. Albus—all of the old wizards, really—had seen more than enough to drive anyone mad.
Alastor took a swig from his flask, then let out a long sigh. "So, how's the Triwizard Tournament coming along? No rampaging Hippogriffs yet?"
"It's going quite well," said Minerva. "We've secured the dragons for the first task, and Charlie Weasley and his crew have volunteered to bring them in from Romania. They should arrive within a week."
"Ahh, glad to hear Molly's boy is doing well for himself. He used to be such a weird kid, never seemed interested in anything besides animals. Thought he was into bestiality for a bit, since he never went out with girls. Safe to say, you can't do that kind of thing with dragons."
There was a reason Alastor never taught at Hogwarts.
"Anyway," said Minerva. "You said you had news about the Ministry?"
Alastor's face darkened, a razor sharp glint in his eyes. "Madam Bones and I were called in to speak to Minister Fudge. There have been gatherings in eastern Europe, signs of rebellion among the wizarding population, both pure blood and Muggleborn. There are concerns they might get violent, if they haven't already. There was a bombing last week that was attributed to Muggle terrorists, but the Aurors are investigating it for signs of magical influence."
Minerva tried to think back, but she couldn't remember reading anything in the papers. "Why do they suspect magic users?"
"I'm not sure, but the Ministry in Russia has been looking into the matter. They won't give us any more information at this time, but Igor Karkarov vouches for them, and told us to be cautious."
"I see," said Minerva, her heart plummeting. There was no prophesy she'd heard of that suggested it possible, but it had already happened once. "Do they think that it's related to Voldemort?"
"No way to know for sure," grumbled Alastor. "It would help if the Russians wouldn't be so damned tight-lipped. Our department is investigating what we can on our own. One thing I wanted to mention is that Minster Fudge was asking about accelerating Hermione's progress into the Auror position."
Minerva's skin crawled at the thought of him. "Let me guess. He wants to use her as a bodyguard?"
Alastor nodded, taking another swig from his bottle. "Madam Bones told him she wasn't ready, but we might have to put her in the field anyway. Madam Bones may be the leader of the Wizengamot, but Minister Fudge still holds the Auror program's purse strings." He chewed his lip. "There are also…certain other factors that I'm not at liberty to discuss, which could lead her to matriculating early as well."
"I'm scared for her, Alastor," said Minerva, her voice soft. She tapped the edge of her papers, as if her hands needed something to do.
"Well," he said, with a weary sigh. "We both knew this would happen eventually. Albus warned us of that."
Minerva stared down at her desk, at the stack of papers she had yet to work on, feeling heartsick and weary. She'd known all along that Hermione and Harry would have to grow up quickly. Dumbledore mentioned things to her, the remnants of prophecies as he paced his office, but the general import was that both students would be called to lead during one of the darkest periods of history. The burden of that destiny was a heavy one, and Dumbledore had borne it for them as long as possible, at great cost to himself.
Now it was her turn to guide them, and Minerva worried she wasn't doing enough to prepare them. She wasn't the sort of person to strategically use people, or give insightful speeches about destiny and greatness. She was only a teacher, who'd watched over countless children as they'd grown from pre-teens to adults. She'd also seen her brightest and bravest students fall to Voldemort, when they had only just left her care.
In addition, while the prophecies within the Hall of Mysteries had been destroyed, Minerva still had transcripts of what Dumbledore said to her. Since the strange 4th year in Hogwarts, she'd begun gathering evidence to explain what caused it. When comparing her research to those prophesies, she was beginning to suspect something unusually complicated was going on, to the point that involving the 5th years might hinder rather than help.
Taking everything into consideration, this was what she'd decided: Even though Harry and Hermione were far from average, they were still young and innocent. Young girls and boys, for the sake of their developing minds, should feel safe and protected. They needed to build happy memories to sustain them when they were battle worn and weary. Minerva wanted to protect that peace for as long as she could, and let the uncertain worries of the future remain in the future.
But if she was wrong, and Merlin help her, she might be, at least she could say she tried her best.
"Hermione!" called Harry, chasing after her down the hallway. "I was just irritated. I didn't mean any of it! I'm not interested in easy quests anyway, so I won't try and steal yours."
Hermione huffed a sigh, and kept walking. The fact that he still hadn't realized why she was angry only made her more annoyed. In the interest of not saying something she'd regret, she'd decided not to talk to him until she'd cooled down.
Suddenly, he was standing in front of her, breathing heavily with his arm blocking her way. She didn't think she'd been walking that fast…but then again, she hadn't really been paying attention. "Alright, listen," he said between breaths. "I don't know what I did, and I'd rather not spend all evening trying to figure it out, so could you please just tell me?"
Hermione glared at him.
"I mean…" said Harry nervously. "Didn't things work out well for you? I was the one who got punished, whereas you got access to the Hogwarts quests. I would expect you'd be rubbing it in my face or something."
She folded her arms. "You want to know why I'm mad?"
"Umm…yes?" said Harry, looking even more nervous.
"It's because," she said, fighting to control her breathing. "I have a rivalry with you for less than a week, and already you botched it!"
"Well, I don't think it was that bad…"
Hermione started pacing. "You couldn't just settle with making better scores on tests. No, you had to set up that stupid paper clip experiment. Which, by the way, was testing buoyancy and not surface tension. And if you'd really, really wanted to test with larger objects, then all you needed to do was make one beaker slightly bigger. There was absolutely no reason for the giant vat of water in the middle of the room!"
Harry sighed. "Well…actually, that was my plan, originally." He rubbed the back of his head. "The spell backfired on me, and I was going to fix it. But then I noticed that all the students were more excited to put giant paperclips in the water tank than they had been for my previous idea, so I just…improvised. Anyway, I thought McGonagall would understand as long as I explained myself."
"That's a lie," said Hermione, folding her arms.
"Alright, fine, I hoped she might understand, but I was more concerned with making sure my experiment went smoothly. It's just really hard to get wizards interested in science, Hermione! Especially since they violate the laws of physics 6 times before breakfast. If the thing doesn't go boom, they're not impressed. I couldn't throw away the opportunity."
Hermione supposed Harry didn't find it necessary to mention that the other reason he'd done it was because it was nice to be the centre of attention. Not that Harry usually cared about those things, nor did Hermione. But sometimes, when the tension was high and there was music and dancing, you could get swept away into doing something reckless…and why was she thinking about the thing she'd decided to forget about?
"Harry," said Hermione, rubbing her forehead. "It's not like this is the first time. This is just the sort of thing you do."
"What are you talking about?"
She threw up her hands. "Chaos, Harry! Everything around you gets weird and confusing, and you don't care how it affects people. That's why I was avoiding you for so long. I just knew this would happen, but then I thought you'd changed…"
"Wait a minute," interrupted Harry, his face darkening. "I thought you said you were busy?"
Hermione wanted to take it back, but she couldn't, because the corner of her mind that wanted to blame him refused to budge.
"So all this time, you could have been...eating dinner with me, or at least returning my messages?"
"Of course I was busy, Harry! But if I had free time, I want to spend it doing something relaxing, not getting in trouble!"
"You didn't get in trouble!" Harry was annoyed now, she could hear it in his voice. "I got in trouble, and you got rewarded! You have absolutely no reason to be angry at me, and…you know what, I resent the fact that you're treating me like some kind of villain."
"How are free quests a reward if I can't use them?" Hermione fired back. "Do you realize what would have happened to me if—"
She stopped, the words dying on her lips. She couldn't tell Harry about Madam Bones, and how she would react if she'd known Hermione had gotten called into the Headmistress's office. It was childish, she realized, to worry so much about what her mentor would think, but it still hung around her neck like a chain. If Madam Bones learned that Hermione was doing Hogwarts quests, then she would probably scoff about them being a foolish waste of time, and that would leave Hermione feeling empty inside. Somehow, this Auror training program was a test she kept failing.
Hermione felt tears prickle in her eyes. Harry still glared at her, demanding an answer.
"I can't do this right now" She struggled to keep her voice from breaking. "I need to take a walk. Please let me go, Harry."
This time, he didn't try to stop her.
Harry spent his evening in his laboratory, skipping dinner because he didn't feel hungry, and utterly failing at translating the Latin spell book. He read over the same line 20 times before he realized he wasn't paying attention anymore.
Harry sighed and rubbed his forehead. This was exactly what he'd been trying to avoid. Every time Hermione got mad at him, he would spend the rest of the evening worrying about it and feeling confused, which meant he couldn't get any work done.
He understood Hermione about as well as he understood car engines. He grasped the basic principle from reading mechanical engineering textbooks, but if you'd asked him to fix one, he would probably just make things worse. That was essentially how helpless he felt when it came to Hermione's feelings. At least she hadn't cried.
Well, we stepped in it somehow. And I've got absolutely nothing, said Ravenclaw. Anyone else have any ideas? Slytherin?
Leave me out of this. I don't want to feel stupid.
Err, alright. Hufflepuff?
Umm…we could give her a hug?
Ha ha, yeah, that won't go over well if she's angry, muttered Gryffindor. Not to mention, I'm not sure I even want to. After all, she said we're annoying and doesn't want to see us.
Harry spent a few seconds being angry all over again, before Ravenclaw spoke up.
Let's take that with a huge grain of salt, as it conflicts with all the data gathered during our interactions, said Ravenclaw. It's not like we've been hexing students left and right, or anything.
Well, I'm modifying the internal schema, hypothetical to it being true, said Harry's Systems Administrator. And the most likely conclusion is that Hermione is stressed about something unrelated to Harry's behaviour.
So…she was upset about something else and taking it out on him? said Slytherin. I reject this conclusion on lack of evidence, and also because we probably read it off a cereal box. Could someone come up with something less derivative?
Harry's collective parts all gave it a thought, and failed.
Umm...said Gryffindor. Is it maybe...that irrational time of the month?
Good job, Gryffindor, declared Slytherin. You reminded me why I didn't want to be part of this conversation in the first place.
But wait! Hufflepuff exclaimed. During the argument, didn't she look sort of sad? And she has been busy and stressed lately. This could be an important data point.
Alright, so given that we have no better ideas, perhaps we could make some concessions that might allow her to…not feel like Harry is a source of additional stress? ventured Ravenclaw. But how do we even…uggh, this is hard.
Well, whatever you do, added Slytherin. Don't mention irrational times of the month.
All of a sudden, the door cracked open, and Hermione peeked into the room.
"Hi," she said quietly, leaning against it like a shield.
"Hi," Harry answered, in his most kind, non-threatening voice.
"Can I come in?" she asked.
"Uhh, sure," said Harry.
Hermione stepped inside and closed the door. She clasped her hands in front of her and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry for yelling earlier. I didn't really mean what I said. I've been stressed lately, and I think I was taking some of that out on you."
Huh, we're better at this than we thought, said Ravenclaw.
She rubbed her forehead. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I've been acting really strange and doing things I never thought I would do."
"It's alright," said Harry, and then decided he needed confirmation. "So…you weren't avoiding me?"
"Well…y-yes, I was, but not because you did anything wrong." She was blinking really hard, rubbing her arms. "Honestly, you've given me a lot of space, and I really appreciate it. I needed to focus on my work, and I didn't have the time or energy for anything else. But I'm going to try to make more time for my friends from now on."
"That's fair," said Harry gently. "But just so you know, I'm turning over a new leaf these days. I've decided to stop manipulating people, unless you tell me it's okay, and from now on I'll try to cause a little less chaos."
Hermione let out a laugh. "You're funny, Harry." She crossed the room to him, bending over his desk. "A Latin spell book?"
"I'm trying to translate it," said Harry. "Admittedly, I haven't made much progress, but I've got a lot of other projects going on right now." Also, he sort of hated Latin. The only languages he'd enjoyed learning were calculus and algebra. Someday he was going to create a universal translator spell and be done with it.
"Where did you find this?" asked Hermione, carefully turning a page. The tome was so old that the edges were starting to rot.
"It's from the quests," said Harry. "I did them last year."
Hermione glanced up at him, frowning. "The Hogwarts Quests? How?"
Harry turned to her, smiled and snapped his fingers.
"Alright, then, don't tell me," said Hermione, her eyes returning to the book, bright with interest. "Wherever you got this, it's beautiful." Her fingers traced the letters as she murmured softly.
"Can you read Latin?" asked Harry.
"I thought it would help me with spellcasting," said Hermione, shrugging. "It's easier once you learn French."
He gazed at her in surprise. This girl could run as fast as jet plane, crush steel with her bare hands, create original spells, and yet she still made time to study Latin and French.
"Miss Granger, once again you prove yourself the brightest witch of her generation," said Harry, nodding approval. "I don't suppose you'd be interested in graciously assisting me with my little side project?"
She flipped the page, her brows raising with a sly grin. "That depends on how much you pay me. I think the standard going rate for research assistants is 13 pounds an hour? And that's only because I don't have my doctorate yet."
"You know, a true Ravenclaw would do it for the love of discovery."
"No, I'm just a vapid Beauxbatons witch. It's gold dust and cute shoes for me."
He glanced down, just to check, and noticed her shoes were simple black flats. Practically no heels at all. And yet, she was still at least an inch taller than him.
Harry admitted that bothered him, but that was just stereotypical male dominance traits kicking in, implanted into his brain by years of media influence and social conditioning. He didn't actually have to be taller than Hermione to prove a point about being either strong or capable. In fact if you combined great magic with high intelligence, then looks shouldn't matter at all.
Of course, this was also the world where Quidditch was the number one sport, and owl post was the preferred form of long distance communication.
Harry heard a ripping sound, and Hermione's hands sprang away from the book.. "I'm so sorry, Harry!" She looked mortified. "I didn't mean to, the page just caught, and—and—"
Harry waved his wand over the tear, setting it back to normal.
"Well then," said Harry, "Once you're finished demolishing that book, would you be interested in taking apart a few other ancient tomes?" He gestured towards his bookshelves, which were beginning to resemble his family's in their overcrowding.
"Wait…really?"
He nodded. "I've got French, Latin, Old English. Pick a flavour."
"Hang on, let me check the time." Hermione glanced her watch, her shoulders slumping. "We've only got four hours until curfew. I know it's not enough to get through more than a few, but…"
"Just do what I used to do," said Harry. "Put the invisibility cloak on, use the time turner, and then read twice as fast."
Harry and Hermione grabbed a few comfortable chairs and happily ransacked his bookshelves, before plopping down to read, enveloped in piles of books.
