Chapter 5

An Interesting Day

The Hogwarts Castle bathed in the gentle sunshine of dawn. The air was still. Percival Jordan was in a serene sleep in his dormitory, along with four other Slytherin first years. Subash occupied the bed at the end, and Perce lay on the one beside him. Having gone to bed as early as he did, Perce did not have the opportunity to meet his three other peers. Jake Elladore had his mouth slightly open, his pillow abandoned on the ground, and his dark brown hair in an unbelievably messy state. His eyelids were slightly parted in his sleep, revealing a fraction of his caramel brown eyes. His was the bed right near the door. On the next four-poster was a slightly plump boy, covered in a blanket in perfect proportions, whose pillow corresponded exactly with the centre of the bed. His black hair was in curls, but had a certain beautiful symmetry. It was almost as though he lay as a rock, not moving even an infinitesimal bit. Though not easy to believe, Drake Fawley was asleep. The fifth bed, adjacent to Perce's and Drake's was empty, but clearly slept on.

The window of the dormitory had been unfastened, and it creaked open, letting the air rush in. It blew in, right onto Perce's face. He screwed up his eyes, and opened them. He saw the white ceiling, and peered around, momentarily forgetting his surroundings. Then at once his memory came flooding back, and he realised that he was in Hogwarts, and had just woken up in the Slytherin dormitory. He dropped his head onto the pillow again, and stared at the ceiling for a while, until his body decided it was ready to get up. Slowly, he sat up, and stretched. He gasped sharply, for his shoulder was aching, suffering from the aftermath of his strange sleeping positions. He sighed, trying to massage it, and got off his bed. The sun was of the colour of molten gold, and still steadily rising into the sky, clearly visible through the window. He smiled, sighed deeply, and changed into robes, being wiser than to try and sleep again.

The dormitory door swung open, and in came a boy covered in a scarf, earmuffs, and an overcoat. He froze momentarily as he caught sight of Perce, and smiled slightly, a small, welcoming smile, and closed the door behind him. He took off his earmuffs, and the scarf, revealing his pale face and a slightly pink, perfect nose, and his overcoat. He laid them aside, and turned again to look at Perce, who was watching him with mild interest, never having been an early riser himself. Perce saw his pure hazel coloured eyes, and he grinned at him. The boy was ruffling his brownish-black hair as he spoke.

"Good morning," he said. "It was beautiful, the sunrise. You should've seen it, it's ten times more mesmerising from Hogwarts than from London. I'm Roger Smith, by the way."

"I'm Perce Jordan. And no, I'd rather sleep," Perce chuckled. "I would have been, if it were not for this stupid window —" he slammed the treacherous window shut.

Roger pointed that they had quite some time before breakfast, and suggested a walk round the lake. Having said that, he once again put on his overcoat and scarf, but spared the earmuffs, for the sun had come out. Perce put on a scarf too. They left the dormitory, and entered the common room. Perce noticed it fully this time. It was long and low, clearly an underground room. Bright green lamps hung from chains from the ceiling, which, along with the walls, were made of rough stone. The stone wall accommodated an elaborately carved mantle piece, beneath which was a crackling flame. There were several high-backed chairs scattered in the room. Perce grinned, and walked past them, out of the common room. They walked silently until they reached the grounds. The warm sunshine made it possible for them to remove their scarves.

"You're a pure-blood, aren't you?" He asked, indifferently. Perce nodded. "Well, I'm one myself. How d'you find Hogwarts?" He asked, this time glancing at Perce's expression.

Perce chuckled softly. "It's more beautiful than I imagined," he said, and turned in the direction of the mountains, to face the sun, which was now shining bright yellow. He sighed deeply, then turned to Roger. "I really want to know what classes we have today… it is quite probable that I know a lot of what they're going to teach, as I thoroughly love reading, and we have a huge library full of books on magic —" he said.

"Is it so? I really don't like it — it's all boring, I prefer staying outdoors. It's all so beautiful. I really don't know why I'm in Slytherin, I'd have suited Hufflepuff, you know…" he trailed off. Perce assured him that the Sorting Hat knew what it said, and on they went, about other aspects of magic.

Roger was sincerely amazed at how much Perce knew, and said the same, receiving a warm smile from Perce. Roger, though uninterested in books, was clearly very much interested in the different types of magic, and in him Perce found the ideal listener. Roger expressed thorough surprise when Perce said he could do magic with his wand pretty well, and demonstrated it by lifting a rock off the ground. From this he went on to show more, accompanied by sharp gasps and appreciations from his friend. They were engrossed in the process, when —

"Good heavens! We've got to go, it's late for breakfast…" Roger cried, glancing at his watch, and off they went sprinting in the direction of the castle. They found that they were just in time — the plates hadn't cleared themselves yet. But they were not exactly early, as they saw students opening their letters — the owls had come in to deliver. Perce hadn't got any, and he didn't find that surprising: his father wasn't the anxious type. They were eating hurriedly, talking very little, when the plump wizard Perce saw in the High Table the previous night started to hand out some sheets, laughing and talking with students. Perce wondered, until it struck him — schedules! He had been waiting for this. Slowly, the wizard approached them. His gingery-blond moustache was prominent. As he came, his voice grew louder steadily.

"Well, good day to you then, Ferland — Yes, yes, you too — no problem at all, m'boy — and here, who's this? Miss Greengrass, here you go — and you are?" He said, smiling, as he approached Perce.

"Jordan, Professor, Perce Jordan," he grinned back.

"Ah, Mr Jordan, this is your schedule — I'm Horace Slughorn, by the way, your Head of House —" he grinned again.

"Thank you, Professor Slughorn," Perce retorted, and glanced at his schedule, as Professor Slughorn moved on to the others, introducing himself and grinning widely, handing out their respective schedules. Perce read the schedule slowly, his grin widening with each line, and excitement steadily increasing. Then he realised that this was the same feeling he had when he got out of the Hogwarts Express — it was not clearly excitement. But he pushed the thought aside as he saw Subash approach him, smiling.

"Today's going to be interesting, isn't it? Transfiguration, Charms, Potions and Flying all in a day! Yes, it's going to be interesting…" he grinned, in a satisfied manner. Perce gave his assent, and saw that on Monday they had Defence Against the Dark Arts. He smiled to himself. Now that, yes, was interesting.

"See you in class, mate," he heard Roger call. He waved, and walked away. Just then Perce noticed a teacher who wasn't there the previous night in the High Table — she had a tall hat, of a darker shade of green than her robes, a stern face, and her hair tied tightly in a bun at the back of her head. She was engaged in a conversation with Dumbledore.

"Yeah, that's Professor McGonagall," he heard Subash say. "Hadner told me. Apparently she's extremely strict, and that's one more reason we should hurry right now," he chuckled.

"Right, then," said Perce, as they turned to leave.

They went to the common room, pushed a few books into their bags, and walked towards the Transfiguration classroom. Then it suddenly struck him — the Transfiguration professor was Dumbledore! His heart leaped. He could hardly control his excitement. Subash betrayed no emotion on learning this fact, but Perce didn't care — he would be learning from Dumbledore himself.

His immense respect and admiration for Dumbledore began when his father first mentioned him. His bold and wise decisions, his righteousness, the depth of his knowledge of magic, and his skill — which he proved in the legendary duel of 1945, all mesmerised Perce. They reached the Transfiguration classroom, and Perce marched in, his eyes twinkling brightly — when he froze momentarily. The witch with a stern face and hair in a bun was standing there.

"Well, come in, and settle down," said Professor McGonagall. Perce blinked twice, then found his feet again, and walked in. He felt his heart sinking to the bottom of his stomach. He sat down, in the empty classroom, for in his excitement he arrived ten minutes early.

"Professor, isn't it Professor Dumbledore who takes Transfiguration?" Perce couldn't help asking. Her hard face did not change, but her voice was calm enough when she replied.

"Professor Dumbledore takes Transfiguration for fourth years and above, Mr. — ?"

"Jordan, Professor, Perce Jordan," he said, his heart sinking further below.

"Very well, Mr. Jordan. Let me assure you that I am quite capable of the job," she said, with a hint of a smile.

"Of course, Professor, that is absolutely not what I meant, I'm sorry for any —" but she waved away the apology, and Perce grinned. 'Well,' he thought to himself. 'There's nothing I can do. But then, there might be — of course, definitely!' he smiled to himself. 'Anyway, it's worth a try.'

Students started filling in soon, and they were asked to settle down by Professor McGonagall. She closed the door just after Drake entered, neatly dressed and smiling, followed by Jake, his hair ruffled and his tie to one side. Professor McGonagall pursed her lips as he entered. That stirred something in Perce's memory, and his eyes widened a little, but his thoughts were interrupted as Professor McGonagall cleared her throat.

"Transfiguration is a very complex, and at the same time, dangerous branch of Magic. And therefore, I am warning you, that any foolish behaviour in this class will not be tolerated by me, and you shall leave this class never to return again," she said, in a hard voice. Subash was staring at her, with a slightly nervous face. Perce risked a glance around the class. He saw everyone staring straight ahead. Drake was clearly annoyed at having the untidy Jake next to him, and it seemed like he had managed to correct the latter's tie. He saw the blond hair of Susane a few seats ahead of him. Roger, he noticed, was sitting just behind him, and he gave a small smile, before looking back at Professor McGonagall.

She was just explaining how to turn a match-stick into a needle, and Perce grinned. He had already succeeded during the summer in transfiguring a cup into a rat. When she gave them the order to begin, Perce raised his wand, muttered the incantation, and the match-stick became a needle of perfect silver. Subash gaped, before turning back to face his match-stick. He made several attempts, each as unsuccessful as the next. Finally he ended up burning the match-stick in his frustration. Everyone was struggling to change at least one end of the match-stick. One gave up, flicking the match-stick away. Professor McGonagall went around, correcting, nodding, and prompting. Drake gave an exclamation of surprise when his match-stick changed to silver, and McGonagall gave a point to Slytherin, leaving him mollified. After a while, McGonagall strode towards them.

"Perce," Subash hissed, "she's coming, take out that needle!"

Perce calmly straightened the quill on the table, and sat back, deaf to the nervous and desperate commands from Subash. She finally approached their table and raised her eyebrows at them. Perce smiled, his eyes a bright blue, twinkling.

"Mr. Jordan, might I ask you why you are relaxing with a quill in your hand, when you are supposed to be transfiguring your match-stick, using a wand?" She asked, turning her gaze upon him. Perce grinned at her.

"It is a quill, Professor, but actually not a quill," he said, his eyes twinkling blue, twirling the quill in his hand.

"I think I have warned you, Mr. —" she paused, and stared at the quill for a second, then turned back to him. She flicked her wand at the quill, and it turned at once into a match-stick. Subash's mouth opened slightly, but he closed it again, and shook his head. Of course he knew magic. Professor McGonagall again turned her eyes to him, and suddenly smiled. "Impressive. Very impressive, Mr. Jordan. Twenty points to Slytherin," she said, still smiling. Then she turned to announce this achievement, to many surprised faces. Drake looked particularly sour.

Perce succeeded in surprising almost all the Professors, earning at least eighty points in a single day. Subash reckoned that this was a record. Professor Flitwick, the short wizard, who was the Charms professor, gave excited squeaks each time Perce waved his wand, and generously showered Slytherin with points. Professor Slughorn commended the perfect colour and texture of his Potion, and declared that he had seen very few Potioneers having such a natural flair. But then, the next class broke his streak.

All students arrived on dot to the Quidditch lesson. Rolanda Hooch was standing at the front with Quidditch robes on, and she had short, brown hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk. She spoke once everyone had assembled. Perce did not pay attention to the rules, for he, like many others, knew them already.

"Now I would like everyone to place a broom by their side, and stand straight. Then, you hold your hand above it, and say 'up!'. Remember to concentrate," she said, holding her hand above her broom. "Up!" She said clearly, and the broom rose up neatly, and she caught it. "Well, begin!" She said. Everyone said "Up!" at once, but most of them had their eyes on Perce.

To the surprise of many, his broom lay still on the ground. He said it twice, thrice, but at most it gave a wriggle. Murmurs burst out through the crowd. Then, heads turned towards another: Subash. The broom came up to his hand the moment he said it. Perce raised his eyebrows, but smiled all the same. He felt it didn't trouble him much. And then another, Drake Fawley, had succeeded. Perce then looked at the broom on the ground, took in a deep breath, and breathed out. Then, clearly, deciding he'd have one more try, he said "Up!". The broom lay still. He just shrugged, and stopped attempting.

That evening, Perce Jordan was in the limelight in the common room. The word about his work in his classes had spread. Apparently, the developments in the Quidditch lesson were overshadowed by his brilliant performance in other classes. Yet, he remained indifferent. He talked to those who came, and ignored those who commented on his Quidditch. Drake, surprisingly, was one of those ignored. Subash was perfectly normal, and Roger was admiring Perce. Everyone was keen on talking to him, including students of higher years, for some of the Magic he performed was well beyond third year. He gave a modest reply to every question, and smiled widely.

During dinner, as Perce was watching Dumbledore, he saw his eyes flicker towards him, twinkling. He was quite surprised, but understood when he saw Professor McGonagall, who was also faintly smiling, talking to Dumbledore. He smiled at them both, his heart giving a joyous leap, then turned back to his friends, who were talking animatedly. Then rather abruptly, he put down his fork, announced that he was going to sleep, and walked silently back to the dormitory, not even stopping when Peeves threatened to drop a dungbomb on his head. 'An interesting day…' he thought. 'And now, until Monday.' he smiled to himself, and allowed himself to fall into a deep sleep.