Chapter 14: School Days

Tuesday, September 3rd 1991

Harry's first class of the day was titled "Culture". He and his class were guided by Tonks this morning as the 4th years were starting the day down in the dungeons. The classroom was located up on the fifth floor overlooking the courtyard and had a rather odd aesthetic.

On one side of the room there were numerous wizarding portraits along with a few. All of them moved. The witches and wizards immortalized in paint flitted from frame to frame talking to one another and having tea. Meanwhile the posters displayed a number of very athletic men on broomstick, robes whipping behind them. There was one poster that stood out because it was different. It was an idyllic scene of a tropical beach complete with the waves crashing along with the occasional bird flying past.

The other side of the room was entirely different. It was covered in paintings, photographs, and posters that did not move. They were of mundane make (or muggle make as the wizards would say). An oil portrait of a red headed man with one ear appeared to be the centerpiece of this collection. It had very prominent brush strokes that swirled about the portrait. Around it were a number of still life paintings in various styles and around those were some majestic black and white photographs. On either end of the wall were brightly colored posters advertising movies, bands, concerts, and sports teams. Harry was particularly amused to find a poster for Monty Python's Flying Circus among them. When he pointed it out to Tonks, she went pink. Completely pink. Then the pink stopped, trickled out of her, and was replaced by an angry red as she noticed some of the other posters in the room.

The enraged Tonks stomped to the front of the classroom past the teacher's desk and yelled at the door behind it: "Mum! What did I say about my posters!?"

The door opened and a pretty witch with brown hair so dark it could almost be considered black and brown eyes just a few shades lighter than that came out and leveled her gaze on the unruly Tonks. Tonks paused a bit, her brilliant red coloration becoming more subdued as she obviously had not expected such nonchalance. Mustering herself, she attempted to resume her tirade: "I distinctly remembering telling you not to touch them! And yet, here they are."

"Nymphadora," the woman responded calmly, and Harry realized with a start that this was the name Tonks was so desperate to avoid having used. He wasn't sure why she appeared to dislike her name so much, he'd certainly heard stranger. Having sufficiently gotten her daughter's attention with her name, if Tonks' paling complexion was any indication, the woman continued. "These are not your posters."

"But they are exactly the same!"

"Yes," she continued patiently, "they are. Because I duplicated your posters so I could have them here in my classroom. I think they look quite nice, don't you?"

Tonks looked like she didn't know what to think, so she didn't reply.

"Now, you have a class to attend and I have a class to teach. You'd better leave before you end up being late."

Tonks turned to leave, and then realized that the entirety of the first year Hufflepuffs and quite a few of the first year Slytherins were staring at her, and had all heard her first name. The full-body pink briefly returned, and then vanished once more. She walked up, stared at the children arranged before her, narrowed her eyes and hissed "you all heard nothing!" before rushing out of the classroom and slamming the door. Tonks' hair was still a fiery red.

'She must be terrible at poker,' Harry thought. 'Er, wizarding poker that is. It probably explodes your chips when you lose or something.'

"All right class, your morning entertainment is over, please take your seats." Their professor's eyes were twinkling in the way a parent's eyes do when they drink in the embarrassment of their children.

Someone grabbed Harry and dragged him into a seat. He found it was Tracey.

"You managed to evade me this morning, but I've got you now. You're my captive for the class."

"But I didn't intend to, I was just…"

"Captives will be silent!" She declared glaring at him, hands on her hips. "Now, to make up for your absence you must take notes for me- ow!" While she was monologuing, Daphne had walked up behind her and whacked her over the head with a roll of parchment.

"You can go and sit with Neville," Daphne said.

"But my captive!"

"Go." Daphne stared at Tracey, and Tracey's will crumbled. Defeated, the overenthusiastic girl grabbed her bag and walked dejectedly towards Neville, melodramatically dragging her feet the whole way.

"You know, that'll probably make her worse later. You could have just sat with Neville and allowed me to be subject to Hurricane Tracey."

"I am not a cruel person."

Harry pointed at Neville, an eyebrow raised.

"He's always been better at dealing with her antics than me."

"You knew each other before?"

"Yes, but not particularly well. Our families are in similar social circles so Tracey and I would generally see Neville several times a year. Despite his timidity he was always able to calm Tracey down when she was acting up."

Before Harry could continue the conversation, their professor spoke. "Good morning class, I am professor Andromeda Tonks and I will be teaching you all culture for the next three years. In this class we will be exploring both muggle and wizarding culture, covering wizarding culture and society on Tuesdays and muggle culture and society on Fridays."

She was interrupted by a blond Slytherin boy who spoke in a drawl. Harry had run into him briefly on the train but hadn't bothered to remember his name as he appeared unimportant. "I don't see why I need to be in this class. Father says muggle culture is worthless and I already know all I need to about wizarding culture."

"And I am sure, nephew, that the muggleborn half of the class would say they know all they need to about muggle culture. I'll give you a hint about why they might want to: movies. Do you even know what those are nephew? No? Then you need to be part of this class, you might learn something. Besides, being all-knowing about wizarding culture you can be a good neighbor and help me teach those raised outside of wizarding homes about it next Tuesday. How does that sound?"

The boy looked aghast. Harry heard a quiet "when my father hears…" drifting over from him.

"Ignore Malfoy," Daphne said softly beside him. "He's a spoiled brat who goes running to daddy whenever something doesn't go his way."

"Thinking of movies, there will also be an optional movie club here in this room Sunday afternoons starting at 3. If you are interested, please come. Continuing on, we will not only be exploring both wizarding and muggle cultures but also be comparing and contrasting them. You may have heard of a class that used to be offered here: muggle studies. This class has replaced that one and is mandatory for your first three years as muggle studies was horribly out of date. Incredibly rapid changes have occurred in muggle society over the last hundred years while wizard society has evolved at a much slower pace."

Their next class took place in one of the greenhouses outside. Tonks (Nymphadora? There were two Tonks in the castle now) had not returned to guide them, but professor Tonks had graciously brought the class down to the entrance hall. Malfoy spent the whole time at the back of the group complaining about the class to any who would listen.

The greenhouse itself was spacious and filled with all manner of exotic magical plants Harry had never before seen. Professor sprout was bustling about the greenhouse wearing dirt-caked gloves. Harry turned to examine an innocent looking shrub that was swaying gently in the non-existent breeze, and was about to touch it when Neville grabbed his hand.

"Don't. The more innocent a plant appears, the more dangerous it typically is. That one has a mild paralysis poison coating its leaves and the one next to it touched sprouts large thorns when touched. They tend to grow together and are quite a nasty combination."

"Indeed, thank you for preventing an unfortunate accident Longbottom. Tuesday is too early in the year for someone to be visiting the hospital ward. Five points to Hufflepuff."

Sprout picked up the plants and carried them to the back where she placed them upon a high shelf. Turning back to Harry and Neville she explained "The third years were here last and you all made it down so fast that I didn't have time to put away all the plants they were using."

Surveying her class, she began teaching. "Welcome. Here in herbology we will be learning about the properties of a number of magical plants and how to properly care for them. We will also be learning several very useful charms that are used to this effect. Today we will begin by going over the year's syllabus and then move on to fertilizing a rather mundane plant, but one quite useful in potions: aconite." She pointed to a plant with small purple flowers. "Its leaves are quite poisonous, so don't eat them, but both leaves and roots are useful ingredients in potion-making."

Lunch followed herbology and found Harry and Daphne sitting next to a sleepy looking Hermione. It took her a moment to register their presence.

"Oh, Harry, good morning. Daphne, you t…*yawn* too nice to see you."

"Long day?" Daphne asked.

Hermione shook her head, yawned again, then spoke. "I didn't get enough sleep last night."

"Why not?" Harry prodded.

"Why not? Because I was reading. Had to figure out how to cast a simple light charm so I could continue after curfew."

Daphne was impressed. While lumos wasn't a very complex spell, for a muggleborn student to cast it on their first day of school with nothing more than a few books to guide them was quite the accomplishment. It seemed that her decision to let the girl stay with them on the train, despite her usual aversion to those who were rude and impetuous, would pay off. Hermione would likely become a powerful ally in the years to come. Harry flicked her nose breaking her train of thought.

"You're scheming. Stop it, not at lunch."

"No I'm not."

"Yes, you are, or were. I've seen many magi make the same expression when they were scheming, I know what it looks like."

Daphne pouted. Hermione missed the entire exchange.

"So," Harry said, "what were you reading?"

Hermione's eyes lit up and her tiredness melted away. "I was reading an old book about potions. There are so many interesting effects that can be created, it just sounds like such a fun class and my excitement got the better of me last night."

"Interesting," Daphne commented. "We just came from Herbology and that class has some strong ties with potions so you may want to look into it as well. However, you may be disappointed in the class, Professor Snape is a rather surly man."

"Oh I did look into it, we had herbology yesterday morning. It was reading about herbology that brought me to potions last night. I do hope our professor is good, but I don't think it should matter that much. I doubt a single person could make me dislike such an interesting subject."

"You'd be surprised at how important a good professor is," Harry replied. "A good teacher can make all the difference in the world, a bad one can make you hate a subject forever."

Hermione looked scandalized and glanced around to make sure no one had heard. "Harry!" she said in a loud whisper. "You can't say such things about teachers! The teachers here are the best in the world, we won't have a bad teacher here."

"Why not? It's true. And we already have a bad teacher: Quirrel. He is boring and ineffective. Not the worst I've seen, but definitely bad."

Now Hermione looked horrified. "Stop. Just stop! Don't badmouth our teachers! Maybe he was just having a bad day or something, at least give him a chance before deciding that he's bad at his job!"

"You do know, Hermione," Daphne said speaking up, "that just because someone is a good wizard does not make them a good teacher. Some people just aren't cut out for it. I haven't had Quirrel yet, but I have heard some of the upper years talk about him and he really doesn't sound that great. But," she sat back, "I suppose I can give him the benefit of the doubt, but if he's still this bad in a couple of weeks…"

"So, Hermione," Harry said changing the subject with the subtlety of a rampaging troll, "which class was your favorite?"

"Ooh, well I really like charms. Flitwick is just great. I also really like the class I just came from- mathemagics. Oh the applications of the class… It's amazing and maths always was my favorite class in primary school."

"I've been wondering," Daphne mulled, "you mentioned that you were reading an old book on potions. Where did you find it? Our textbook was only printed a few years ago."

"Ravenclaw has a library! An amazing magnificent library full of old books." Hermione almost seemed to sparkle as she stared into the distance, seeing the library in her mind. "We are located in a tower. A good portion of the tower, going straight up from the common room to the roof, is a library. The bedrooms are located in the space between the library which is at the center of the tower and the outer walls. It is simply the most wonderful amazing place I have ever been. I'm so glad I decided not to go with Gryffindor, I doubt that they have half as good a library as we do."

Harry and Daphne looked at each other in amusement. Hermione was now completely lost in her memory of thousands upon thousands of books and remained that way for the rest of their meal.

Immediately after lunch was potions with Ravenclaw. The classroom was located one floor down in the basement area, approximately level with the Hufflepuff common room. Harry had expected the class to be in the dungeons which began a floor or two below their present location. He found the classroom to be large and well lit with a high ceiling. A number of large open windows lined the opposite wall just below the roof, a good 10 feet above the floor. Several blackboards sat below the windows and all had been carefully cleaned.

Sitting directly across from the door in front of the blackboards was the teacher's desk. It was a large sturdy piece of oaken furniture with numerous drawers. Upon the desk was a cutting board and to either side of the desk were some large cauldrons full of gently boiling water as they were sat over a low flame. There were several tables and cabinets laden with potions equipment recessed into the wall on either side of the room.

The walls were white plaster and had a number of framed posters depicting various reagents and preparation techniques while the ceiling was naked stone and stained black with smoke. There were twenty sturdy and stained desks, each able to seat two, arranged in neat rows 6 wide and 3 deep with the last two desks in the back corners. Harry soon found himself sitting next to a Ravenclaw girl he didn't know, she was obviously of Indian descent.

He was about to introduce himself when a side door opened behind him and their teacher entered. It was not professor Snape, the sallow-faced man with the greasy hair and hook nose that Tracey had pointed out before the end of breakfast the day before. Instead, their teacher was a very young and rather short witch with braided black hair. Harry estimated that she was certainly no older than 25.

She strode to her desk, an impressive feat given her height and the length of her legs, turned to her class with a cheerful smile and dimpled cheeks, and introduced herself.

"Welcome class, I am professor Agatha Heath and I will be teaching potions for your first three years. Until recently, professor Snape taught all seven years of potions, but that was not a good idea. Now, I'm not saying anything bad about the good professor, he is the most brilliant potioneer I have ever met, and I am currently working on my potions mastery under him. However, one person teaching every class can be overwhelming. Professor Snape may be a genius, but he did not have the time, energy, or understanding for how lower-level classes should be taught so he taught all his classes in the same way. He expected everyone to already know the basics, just as he had at their age, and thus didn't bother to teach them those things which led to many burnt hands and melted cauldrons. We, however, will focus almost exclusively upon the basics. There will be little in the way of actual potion making until everyone understands how to properly handle and prepare ingredients, how various ingredients react, and proper potion-making technique. We will have a demonstration every class in which I will show you how proper preparation and combination can create very different potions than ones done improperly." She leaned in conspiratorially, "If we do this part correctly, or rather incorrectly, demonstrating bad potion-making may even involve some minor explosions!"

She glided back to the nearest blackboard, every eye fixed upon her in anticipation, and tapped it with her wand. A list of ingredients and basic instructions for their preparation appeared on said board. "We will begin today by exploring just how much proper reagent preparation influences a potion's quality. You can see here on this board the ingredients used in the frost breath potion. It is a potion of my own creation, further refined by professor Snape. It is a rather fun potion that has a number of easily found ingredients and is not hard to brew. I expect that by the end of the year you will all be able to create it on your own just in time for summer break."

"What does it do?" Hermione asked excitedly from the opposite end of the room.

"Exactly what you'd think," the professor replied. "Take a sip of the potion and your next breath will cover everything it touches in a layer of hoarfrost. A very fun potion to use with your friends during the summer. Add a few more ingredients and a little complexity to the potion-making process and you will have the more advanced ice breath potion," she tapped the board again and several more ingredients appeared along with a number of new steps, "which is what we are working on today as, well, you'll see. So," she said with a start causing Neville to jump, "here is what we will be doing. I will assign each table a different ingredient to prepare. Yes, I know that there are 10 ingredients and 17 tables, some of you will be preparing the same things. Once you have prepared the ingredients, I will use them to create an Ice Breath potion in this cauldron," she said pointing at the cauldron to the left of the desk. "At the same time, I will be preparing the potion's ingredients myself and brewing a potion using them in the other cauldron. Then, once both potions are complete, I will test them both and you will observe the differences."

The girl next to Harry raised her hand. "Yes, miss," she looked down at a sheet on the desk briefly, "Patil. You have a question?"

"Yes. Your instructions say to finely chop the wintermint leaves, thinly slice the holly root, and to dice frostfir seeds. They also say to crush the snowcrest berries and to powder the dried heather blossoms. These instructions seem very similar. What is the difference between slicing and dicing or crushing and powdering?"

"Ah, that is exactly the point of today's lesson. Two points to Ravenclaw. I will not be giving you any additional instructions my dear. Figure it out to the best of your abilities on your own, and we will see what happens."

So various ingredients were passed out and the students did what they could to prepare everything. Once they were done, professor Heath collected all the ingredients and carefully prepared both potions simultaneously while narrating each step and the purpose of each ingredient. An hour into class and the potions were complete. The one on the left was a swirling milky blue while the potion on the right was a crystal-clear pale aquamarine.

"We will begin with your potion," the friendly professor said collecting a small flask of the cloudy potion. She lifted it up to the light and carefully inspected it. The potion was completely opaque. Taking a small sip, she breathed in, faced one of the tables that had a target placed upon it, and expelled a sluggish grey-white mist. Everything the mist touched was covered in a thin layer of jagged grey ice that did not appear dissimilar to the dirty ice you find next to a busy road the day after it snows. The professor coughed twice and took a drink of water. She motioned for the class to come forward and examine the ice. It was rapidly melting and already slushy. Vertical surfaces, such as the table's legs and the target, already had the ice sliding off of them.

Inspections done and notes taken, professor Heath took the other potion, the one she had worked on from start to finish. She held it up to the light, saw how it created an almost prismatic effect causing vibrant blue light to dance around the classroom, and took a sip. The difference in quality was immediately evident. This cloud of mist was a brilliant white fog that moved rapidly as if propelled by a stiff wind. Everything it touched froze solid with a much thicker layer of clear smooth ice that had a slight aqua tint. The class came forward and took a look at it. There was mist rising from the ice. It was very cold and very smooth. The ice on the target was over an inch thick and gently domed- it was thickest right over the bull's eye.

"See the difference? We have 15 minutes left in class and what I want for you and your partner to do is to write a paragraph- that is no less than 4 inches of parchment- examining the differences between the two potions and the reasons for those differences. If you cannot finish by the end of class you are to complete it for Friday as homework."

Harry's next class, transfiguration, took place in a classroom of moderate size on the first floor overlooking the lake far below. It was easy to find as it was located in a corridor that cut from the grand staircase coming up from the entrance hall to what Harry had dubbed the 'evil moving staircase chamber'. They were informed that this room, while always in this section of the castle, sometimes wandered about and was often found a corridor or two over.

Professor McGonagall was waiting for her class to arrive and she began teaching the moment class was scheduled to begin and not an instant before.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said while carefully looking each and every student in they eye to ensure all were listening. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Apparently satisfied that her students had taken her warning to heart, she turned to her desk and turned it into a pig with a sharp flick of her wand to the delight of her class, surveyed the room once more, and then returned it to being a desk.

"Now, transfiguration is a very diverse subject. It is also a very difficult subject. I will be holding you all to the highest standards during our time together and expect all of you to perform admirably. Basic transfiguration is one of the fundamentals of wizardry and acts as the foundation for several much more complex subjects- Animation, Conjuration, and Alchemy among them. These are electives that you may take after your fifth year is complete should you perform sufficiently in the prerequisite O.W.L.s.

"While I am certain that you are all excited to be learning how to temporarily change one object into another," there was a collective groan from the class. "Yes, temporarily. If you want your changes to be permanent, you need to know alchemy, and that also requires potion-making skills of the highest degree. Do know that 'temporary' does not necessarily mean 'short'. A masterful transfiguration could remain in effect for months and a spell to reshape the very earth beneath our feet might last indefinitely.

"Now, as I was saying, we will not be working on any complex spells for a while. First, we need to cover the theory. You need to know exactly what you are doing, how you are doing it, and why it works before attempting all but the simplest of transfiguration spells. As transfiguration requires a lot of mental fortitude, creativity, and control, it could be months for you to even complete the most basic of transfigurations. These are skills that are slowly built over time, and are necessary basics for any spells you may wish to cast.

"That said we will be working on some simple spells. Magic is like a muscle. The more you work at it, the stronger it becomes- to a point of course. As important as theory is, without practice at putting it into action you are unlikely to accomplish much of anything. Today you will all be attempting to turn a matchstick into a needle. Let us begin."

By the time class was complete only two students had made any progress whatsoever on their matchsticks. Hermione's match had taken on a slight silver sheen and was pointier than before. Harry's, however, looked very much like a needle but still felt wooden rather than metal. McGonagall congratulated both of them with a smile and asked Harry to stay behind a moment.

"Do you know what you accomplished today?" She asked him once the rest of the class had filed out the door.

"No professor."

"In all my years of teaching I have never seen anyone come so close to completing a transfiguration on their first day. Not even those with some magical training under their belt have done so."

"I feel Hermione's accomplishment is more impressive professor. She didn't have any magical training at all before coming to school and yet managed an impressive result. What I managed wasn't anything special, Lorelei would have scolded me for failing to complete the task in our allotted time."

McGonagall was taken aback, she had not expected such a response. "Hermione does appear to be an exceptionally talented young witch. But again, even the most exceptionally talented could not have managed such a thorough transformation. Developmentally young witches and wizards are simply unable to muster the required willpower until later in the school year- after several months of training- and typically witches manage it before wizards as they develop faster. So how did you do it and what do you mean that Lorelei would have scolded you? Who is this Lorelei?"

"Lorelei is my master in magecraft and, being both the most exceptional magus of this age and a Barthomeloi, demands nothing less than perfection, so I give it to her. To fail here at this simple task is… disappointing."

"I see," McGonagall let out a shaky breath. Magecraft. That would explain it. Dumbledore hadn't told her any specifics when he had left to 'secure Potter' after finally locating him when the letters were written and sent. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting, but it wasn't this. She had heard the stories. Of how magi were exceptionally focused upon their craft, scarily focused, to the point where (if the stories were to be believed) they could scarcely be considered human. She would have to keep her eye on Potter (or was it now Brunestud? What even was that all about?) to make sure he was not heading down a dark path.

Focusing on the present once more and regarding him in a new light, she responded. "You shouldn't feel bad that you did not complete the task. You were not expected to for weeks yet. As I have already stated, transfiguration is a very difficult and demanding subject. Your magus training will certainly give you a leg up in all your classes, perhaps for several years even, but do not slack off or you will suddenly find your classmates to be beyond you. Now, you had best be on to your next class- music is located in the conservatory across from the greenhouses."

Music class was held in a spacious glass-walled building. Most of its sliding doors were open as the weather was pleasant. Harry arrived a few minutes late as he had been turned around a few times before making it to the marble staircase, but the professor- a tall and large boned woman with graying hair and prominent laugh-lines- had excused his tardiness. Professor Melody, as she insisted the students call her, was introducing them to all manner of instruments both magical and mundane. They were informed that every music class would perform before the entire school at the closing feast- it was their final exam. The professor also informed them that at the end of the year they would be asked to continue with either music or art as their schedules would be too full the following year to pursue both. It was a fun class, full of discordant noise and laughter as various instruments were tried by students that had no idea how to play them. Before being released their professor assigned a very simple piece of homework: listen to at least three wizarding songs and attempt to pick out the instruments played.

Dinner was boisterous once more as the first year Hufflepuff students swapped impressions of the various classes with their elders in between teasing Tonks about her actions that morning and asking about the many teachers eating at the staff table they had not yet had. As it turned out, Hogwarts had an incredibly customizable curriculum in the upper years with dozens of advanced specialties that the older Hufflepuffs were very happy to explain. Whether they knew it or not, these first impressions of the various tracks that were offered shaped many of the young Hufflepuffs' future studies.

Following dinner many sleepy and satisfied students trudged back into their common rooms. While their thoughts of revenge on the wicked Ravenclaws the following Monday had been temporarily forgotten, they were quickly reminded of their egregious lack of ability in Wyrms & Wizards by a trio of sadistic 6th year students. Before they could be goaded into yet another disastrous expedition, Professor Sprout bustled in and informed everyone that she would be the WM (Wyrm Master) for the evening. Eager 6th and 7th year students, or at least those that did not yet have too much homework, lined up. The first years decided to observe their adversaries' struggles, to wait and to learn. They would have their revenge, eventually.

Harry begged leave from the evening's activity as he had work to do. The night before he had neglected his magecraft in the excitement and would have to spend two hours working on it to make it up. He had hit something of a roadblock lately in his studies but had promised his master that he would spend an hour a day (with the exception of Saturday when he would spend 4 hours) practicing to keep his skills sharp. That night he dreamt of a calm beach with a blood-red sun beginning to rise from the ocean, and the barest hints of distant clouds.

Wednesday

The morning was beginning to become a routine. Wake up at 7:15, wake Neville, shower, be at breakfast by 8 o'clock sharp, talk to someone, and eat. This morning, much like the last, that someone found him. Unlike the previous days it wasn't his Slytherin friends or his suddenly teleport-capable mother but the Gryffindor prefect with a personality the size of the moon he had met at lunch two days earlier. He had only just sat down and was about to take his first bite of roast tomato when she plopped into the seat next to him.

"So, how's school been so far Harry?" She asked with a grin, snagging a sausage from his plate.

"So far? Pretty good. The only classes we haven't had yet are whatever is on the schedule for today- all it says is 'History'- and flying tomorrow afternoon."

"And your thoughts on the professors?"

"You want my opinion? Why?"

"Because you seem similar to myself," she explained, now munching on his crumpet (A/N for Americans- we know them as English muffins). "A very talented wizard who had been tutored by the best minds available but finds himself stifled and decided to come to this school to get some space from an overbearing family."

"That's a very specific definition. It's also wrong."

"Oh, how so? Prove it." Yuri had a massive grin on her face and her eyes danced, as if she was in on some private joke.

"Because it was my 'tutor' that decided I was to come to Hogwarts in the first place. I didn't particularly want to come, but she insisted and my family supported her decision."

"Ah, it seems I got it exactly wrong," she said with a wry smile. "Your situation is actually the exact opposite of my own. But you know what they say, opposites attract!"

"I'm 11."

"Doesn't mean we can be friends," she replied throwing an arm around his shoulders. Harry futilely tried to throw it off. When he had given up, her grin returned in full force. "That's it, give in, join the dark side, we have cookies!"

"Oi!" Nymphadora (she threw a glare at Harry- it appeared that she was psychic), er… Tonks (the glare vanished) called from several places down the table. "Don't go corrupting our youth Yuri! Go pick on your own firsties!"

"Like you're one to talk Nym!" She yelled back. "You're the one who taught me to act like this."

"Don't backtalk your superiors Yuri! You know the rules. If you wish to continue being an honorary member of my house you had better behave."

Yuri grumbled. "I can arrange an unfortunate and untraceable accident for your W&W character during tonight's session if you like." Yuri immediately quieted. "That's what I thought." Tonks went back to her breakfast.

"We can have honorary Hufflepuffs?" Harry asked.

Tonks looked up with a grin, "Sure can, just be sure to clear it with a prefect first. Don't want our awesomeness spreading to outsiders. I adopted Yuri here when I was an ickle second year. She was lost and so cute, having just arrived from Korea and barely being able to speak English. And now look at her, she's not cute at all anymore. I sometimes wonder why I even bothered."

Yuri stuck out her tongue at Tonks, then turned back to Harry and stole several pieces of bacon from him. "Oi! Get your own plate!"

"Don't wanna," she said while crunching on it. "So, the reason I come before you today is that I want you to join my club."

"Your club?"

"Indeed. I run the MMA club here at Hogwarts and you seem like someone who will do well in it."

"Mixed martial arts? And why do you think I'll do well?"

"Nope. Magical martial arts, my family's specialty. And as for you doing well, you already have the bearing of a warrior- of one who has seen combat."

"I have seen combat, but only a little actual combat. It was mostly spars against my very powerful… aunt? Sister? I'm never really sure what to call her and she doesn't exactly have blood ties to my adoptive mother, but at the same time sorta does. It's complicated. She's been training me in combat since I was six." At this Harry's good mood faded, his memories of happy days with Illya now long past returning in full force.

"Something wrong?" Yuri asked in concern, sensing the shift.

"I had a friend when I began training. She was by my side for nearly two years. I have not heard from her since. So," he continued, changing the subject with false cheer, "tell me about your family and how you ended up half way around the world in Jolly Ol' England."

Yuri brightened at the change in the mood, eager to talk about herself and avoid what was clearly a sore subject for Harry. "My family is one of the ten great families- or clans- of Korea. Each family has a specialty and the strongest in each generation is given the title 'Jahad' and rules over magical Korea like a king. Once they are old or tired of ruling, they pick their successor from the next generation. It is considered a great honor and the family chosen is elevated in status. If a member of a lesser family is chosen, they can be elevated in status to a great family, and the least of the great families will be relegated to being a lesser family to keep the balance and allow in new blood. It also works as a great incentive to keep older families from becoming complacent in their power.

"When I was 8 I was chosen to become the next Jahad. 'A once in a century talent' they called me. I was given the best of everything and treated as if I was made of glass. Honorable successor this. Honorable successor that. It was stifling. It was infuriating. So I left. I did, of course, receive the blessing of the current Jahad and promised to do what I could to find and cultivate talents abroad to bring back to the ten families to appease the elders. And now I run the MMA club and may become a teacher here after I graduate to delay my return. So, that's my story. What's yours?"

"Before I start on my story, could you tell me something about your family's specialty?"

"Mystical martial arts. We specialize in infusing our bodies with magical energy- which we call 'gi', you'd be more familiar with the term 'chi', when around non-magical marital artists- and unleashing devastating magical attacks. It is a skill that can be taught, and I do teach it to members of the club, but those born into my family have a natural attunement to our arts just as the Khun family has a natural attunement to wandless lighting-based magical attacks and the Lo Po Bia family has a natural ability to summoning and control spectral beasts."

'Interesting,' Harry mused. 'That almost sounds like a sorcery trait. I may need to join her club to see if I can learn these abilities myself, they seem quite useful.'

Out loud he replied saying, "Well there's really not that much to say in my case. My family was killed by Voldemort during the war but in the process somehow ended his reign of terror. I was adopted by a very powerful magus and only now, after my teacher wrangled some concessions from Dumbledore, have been allowed to start my education in wizardry."

'A magus?' Yuri thought as she grinned. 'Perfect. I do believe that this is the start of a wonderful, and mutually beneficial, friendship.'

History of magic, it turned out, was different from his earlier classes. It was held on Wednesday morning, both periods, in a large bowl-shaped room with stadium seating on the 4th floor. Unlike in Harry's previous classes, this one had members of every house in it. All 72 first-year students were in attendance. At the bottom of the room was a podium before a large curtain. This, Harry assumed, was where the teacher would stand. He had not yet heard anything about the illusive new history teacher. Apparently, the class had been taught by a ghost for many years, but he was so dreadfully boring that they finally had him exorcized and replaced with a real teacher.

Just as the class was beginning to become restless, there was a bang as a door at the front of the classroom was opened with such force that it left a dent in the solid stone wall. Neville was startled so badly he fell out of his chair. Harry thought he glimpsed something silver in color for an instant there in the doorway, but it vanished before he could be certain. The class waited with bated breath for a moment and, just as they decided that nothing was happening, Waver Velvet strode into the room.

-End Chapter 14-

Author's Note:

Yes, that is indeed Ha Yuri Jahad from the Korean webtoon Tower of God. Go read it if you haven't already done so. It is fantastic (though Line's translations can be a little... off at times).

Also, I was reading the descriptions of Harry's classes in Philosopher's Stone in order to get a better idea of what they were in canon and realized that Rowling's descriptions are very minimalistic. She somehow managed to describe his classes in just a few sentences in book 1- giving us just enough detail to go "oh, ok then". Meanwhile, here I am going into a huge amount of detail… Then again she did the same in later books, the worst offender being book 5. It is so hard to get through the start of that book- week 1 is over 100 pages (after over 100 pages of Harry's summer and that farce of a trial). At least I have a good reason for going into detail- to contrast with canon and just how different things have become based on one change and the butterflies it caused.

Chapter 15 will be posted in a week.