Chapter 3:
This Is Not The Headmaster You're Looking For.
"Hello, Headmaster Dumbledore," I said. Until I knew which version of Dumbledore I was dealing with it was best to treat him with the utmost politeness.
"Please call me Professor. I consider myself an educator first and administrator second," Dumbledore said in a genial voice.
"Professor it is then," I said. Trying to sound as respectful as possible.
"Relax, you're not in any trouble. You haven't been here long enough to get into any real fun yet," Dumbledore said teasingly. I smiled and found myself relaxing in spite of myself. "I had actually called you in here to talk about your run-in with the Red Court vampire." And just like that I stiffened up again. "It is no small thing to stand up to an evil such as that."
"I don't know what Hagrid told you but I was getting ready to run when he showed up," I said. It wasn't like I would've been able to fight the damn thing. It had thrown me the length of the alley with one hand, and I had used up my only weapon.
"No wand, your only weapon expended, and a fight that could not be won with your current abilities. Running was the correct course of action," Dumbledore said. He paused a moment and seemed to debate something before continuing in a serious voice. "But that is not why I wanted to talk to you today. I wanted to assure you that you will not have any further problems from the Red Court." He sounded very sure of that. "And if you have any problems sleeping because of this or just need some help dealing with it I have informed Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse, about your altercation, and she will be ready to help you."
"Thank you for telling me, Professor," I said. I still didn't know what had caused the Red Court to try and kill me, but unless Dumbledore decided to tell me, if he even knew, I was unlikely to find out why. Until such a time that I found out why, I resolved to attribute it to the Red Court's war with the White Council making them uppity.
"Now that that's out of the way, I couldn't help but notice you seemed in an especially good mood last night. From what Professor McGonagall said you had to be helped from the boats and could not stop laughing. Do you have any idea why?" Dumbledore inquired. Well, crap. I knew the first years had noticed my… episode, but I had hoped that it had escaped the notice of the professors. I gave a shy nod. It was pointless to lie—I was horrible at it, and if he was half as good as I thought he was he would be able to see through any attempt to dissemble. Also this was a fairly small thing to reveal. If he reacted badly or in a way I didn't like, then I would have evidence against trusting him with anything further.
"I can sometimes feel things. I could feel something around my house and Diagon Alley, but they had nothing on Hogwarts," I said. When Dumbledore nodded for me to go on, I continued, "It feels like a taste and a pressure at the same time. Usually unless I really focus on it I just get a slight feeling, but when Hogwarts came into view I was completely overwhelmed." My voice was tinged with awe. Even now I was riding a slight buzz from the experience. For Hogwarts to affect me so much when I wasn't even trying to sense its magic meant that this place was brimming with power.
"I too had much the same reaction when I first came to Hogwarts," Dumbledore said, reminiscing. I arched my brow as I leaned forward, not having to feign interest. I was always interested in stories, and Dumbledore was sure to have more than a few good ones. "Do you know what you are sensing?"
"I'm almost certain it's magic," I said confidently. If I was wrong I would be very surprised.
"It is indeed. The reason you had such a strong reaction to Hogwarts is because she's built on a nexus of seven ley lines," Dumbledore explained. At my only somewhat fake look of confusion he continued. "Ley lines are like rivers of magic. They flow all over the world, and where they meet some of the most important and powerful places are built. Stonehenge and Hogwarts are simply a pair of the most well-known examples of this. Building on a convergence of ley lines allows you to tap tremendous power but it can be very dangerous. Stonehenge hasn't been used in over a thousand years because no one alive can handle the power involved." Dumbledore said the last bit so softly I don't think he realized I heard him. "At least not since the gods stopped responding."
Gods? I had been doing a lot of reading since my trip to Diagon Alley and I had learned a lot. I had confirmed the existence the Red, White, and Black Courts and the multiple types of werewolves. Not to mention the rival block of magic users that couldn't use wands—couldn't, not didn't; it was an important distinction—the White Council. No mention was made of gods though. I would definitely need to look that up when I got the time.
But for now I decided to ask Dumbledore a question I thought he would answer. "If it's magic I'm sensing, why do I feel it at home? As far as I know I'm the only witch there." I was pretty sure that the wards were set up by either Dumbledore or the ritual mom performed before Voldemort killed her.
It was odd, I remembered that night in almost perfect detail. The feeling of the wards being torn down, my mother's barely controlled movements and shaky voice as she begged for my life, the oppressive feeling of Voldemort's magic as he calmly walked down the hall to my room.
I could not remember any feeling from Mom's ritual. Nothing at all. At the time I was more worried about Voldemort, but looking back it was more than a little disturbing that I couldn't feel anything from it. The ritual did something, as evidenced by my continued existence, and I remembered the runic diagram disappearing, but magic wise I felt nothing.
Dumbledore gave me a considering look before responding. "I am sure that by now you have heard of your status as the Girl Who Lived." At my confirming nod he continued. "The night Voldemort came to Godric's Hollow your mother sacrificed herself for you. This act of pure love allowed you to survive the Killing Curse and left you with a powerful protection from Voldemort in the form of blood wards." I wondered if he actually believed that. He certainly seemed to, but if he did, then he probably knew nothing about Mom's ritual. "I added some of my own wards to the protection on Privet Drive, but the majority of what you've felt comes from that night."
I nodded while absently wiping the tears that had started falling down my face. "Sorry, just, I still remember them sometimes. A smell or a sound and it's almost like they're still here," I said. I grabbed the handkerchief that Dumbledore had conjured and dried my eyes.
"I understand, my dear," Dumbledore said, looking far older than when I first came in here. "Would you like a lemon drop?" Dumbledore asked. I nodded and reached into the bowl on his desk and grabbed one before popping it into my mouth. Mhmmm, lemony.
"Wait, she?" I asked. Was he talking metaphorically or was Hogwarts actually alive. I was curious and I wanted to move past the current topic.
"Noticed that, did you? Ravenclaw certainly suits you," Dumbledore said. He seemed happy for the change of subject. "Yes, I did say she. Hogwarts is, in a very real sense, alive. Being built on a nexus has given birth to a genius loci." Dumbledore paused and cast a spell that cased the time to appear in the air as glowing numbers. "Unfortunately it is time for you to get to class." I ended up leaving with a pocket of lemon drops.
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I made it to Potions with a minute to spare. Luckily Hermione had saved me a spot.
"How did it go?" Hermione asked softly. Professor Snape was not yet here, but the dungeons did not lend themselves to loud voices or boisterous children. The Potions classroom in particular seemed designed to discourage such things.
"I'll tell you after class," I answered just as softly. The surroundings were affecting me too. All the light in the room came from torches, and there were jars filled with various dead and not so dead animals and plants. Ugh.
"Okay," Hermione said. That was all the talking we had time for as Professor Snape swooped through the door, which slammed shut after him, and stalked down the aisle to the front of the class where he pivoted on his heel and spent a long moment just glaring at the class. Until his gaze fell on me. I was leaning forward, a quill in my hand, and doing my best to look eager to learn. He blinked and almost seemed to smile. Ha, I love it when a plan comes together.
"Potions is a subtle and precise discipline. Few of you will see the beauty of the simmering cauldron or the power that potions can wield. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper on death. This is but a fraction of what potions can accomplish—what you can accomplish, if you've the mind for it." Professor Snape's voice was low, but I had no doubt that every student heard him clearly. He once again surveyed the room and, apparently satisfied with what he saw, continued. "This year will be different from my past attempts at teaching Potions. We will meet three times a week and on Mondays we will discuss theory, on Wednesdays we will brew and on Fridays we will, depending on how your latest attempts at brewing went, either start on a new potion or review what went wrong," he finished, looking none too happy at the new way of teaching the class.
I narrowed my eyes, this was a big departure from his sink-or-swim take on teaching from the movies and fanfics. What could have caused this change? I thought for a moment before shrugging. Probably Dumbledore or one of the parents finally got tired of his old method and forced him to change it.
"Now does anyone know why the number of stirs is important?" Professor Snape asked. What followed was a lively discussion on the inherent magic of certain numbers and why it was important to stir seven times, not six or eight. Apparently Arithmancy was more than just arithmetic.
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"I don't know what the older students were talking about. Professor Snape is an amazing teacher. Oh this is so exciting, I can't wait to actually make a potion!" Hermione gushed. Professor Snape was indeed a surprisingly good teacher.
"Me neither. It seems Potions class will be very interesting," I said. We were on our way to Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall when Hermione stopped and turned to look at me, giving me a searching look.
"So you were going to tell me what Dumbledore wanted to talk about?" She asked. You don't beat around the bush do you, Hermione?
"Yes I was," I said as I started walking again. Hermione huffed before following. I stifled a smile—riling people up was fun, and Hermione was so vocal in her annoyance.
"So…" Hermione drawled.
"Soooo…" I drawled back. A smile was fighting through my self-control.
"What. Did. He. Want?" Hermione growled at me. The smile was, by this point, stretched across my face.
"Oh, that. Nothing really, he just wanted to talk about my reaction to coming to Hogwarts," I said.
"Your reaction? You mean how you were acting like one of Daddy's patients after they've had some laughing gas? That reaction?" Hermione asked. The brightest witch of the age, ladies and gentlemen.
"Yes, that reaction," I said, grimacing slightly. I was over it, but the experience was intense, and had someone tried to do anything to me I would have been helpless. The fact that anyone who tried something would have had to go through all the teachers didn't help. "He said that it had to do with my ability to sense magic. Since Hogwarts is built on a nexus of ley lines the ambient magic is orders of magnitude denser than in most places."
"That makes sense. Those who sense magic are very sensitive to hot spots like Hogwarts," Hermione said before something seemed to occur to her. "Wait, that means that you can sense magic." She looked at me inquiringly and I nodded. "That's really rare, you know. There are less than a thousand people known to have that ability. Dumbledore's one of them." She sounded more excited about it than I was and I knew how useful it could be.
By now we had entered the Transfiguration classroom. The room was almost full, there were only a few tables open at the front near the desk which had a cat on it. My smile returned. We sat down at the table right in front of the desk.
"We're almost late," Hermione fretted.
"We can't be late, the Professor's not even here," I pointed out, my smile growing. A few minutes passed as we got our things settled.
"Were do you think she is?" Hermione asked. By now most of the students had started talking amongst themselves, and the Hufflepuffs were eyeing the cat. Please let one of them try and pet her, please.
"It is the first day of term. Professor McGonagall is probably just giving everyone time to get to class," I said. One of the Hufflepuffs, I'm not sure which one it was, had gotten up and was heading towards the front desk while eyeing the cat. Yes, just a little further. Just one stroke of the cat, please. I was staring at the Hufflepuff, my grin stretching from ear to ear. Hermione, who had been focused on getting her supplies set out until now looked at me before turning slightly to look at the Hufflepuff.
"What are you smiling at, Alex?" Hermione asked me suspiciously, her eyes narrowed slightly. Only a day and she knew me so well. I shook my head and motioned for her to be quiet. Just a step away now. Just a little closer.
Sadly it was not to be. As soon as the Hufflepuff was within touching distance professor McGonagall transformed, flowing seamlessly from cat to human, causing the poor kid to squeak and fall backwards.
"Miss Perks, are you alright?" Professor McGonagall asked. At Perks' affirming noise she continued. "Then please return to your seat." McGonagall's voice was stern but tinged with amusement. I narrowed my eyes slightly. Perks.
"Now that we are all seated we can begin," Professor McGonagall said, looking around the room. Less intense than Professor Snape, Professor McGonagall had nonetheless won the class's complete attention. Animagi, people with the ability to turn into animals—or rather one animal—were rare. Unlike Metamorphmagi like me, Animagi were taught rather than born. Most people simply lacked the skill and dedication to learn it. If being able to turn into an animal took a lot of work, well then I was more than up for the challenge. "For your first lesson you will attempt to turn a matchstick into a needle. The incantation is acus and the wand movement is a slight downward thrust at the match, like so. Please begin," Professor McGonagall instructed.
I would like to say I managed it on my first try. I would like to say I did it by my twentieth try. Unfortunately it was not until five minutes before class ended that I finally managed to do more than make my matchstick slightly sliver, nearly ten minutes after Hermione managed to fully change hers into a needle, netting Ravenclaw five points. Still, once I did it the first time, I managed to turn it back and forth a few times before class ended.
"For those of you who did not manage to transfigure your match, you will need to turn in three inches on the subject due next lesson," Professor McGonagall said as we put our supplies away. Wait, inches?
Hermione was finished packing up and was standing waiting for me. I motioned for her to wait a moment while the rest of the class filed out. "Professor McGonagall?" I asked. She turned to look at me.
"Yes, Miss Potter?" She asked.
"Umm, I know I managed to transfigure the match, but for future reference, when you say inches you don't mean that like pages thick, right?" I asked nervously. Because seriously, if she did, that was insane. Professor McGonagall arched her brow.
"And if I do?" She seemed amused. Amused was good, that probably meant that she did not in fact mean to inflict carpal tunnel syndrome on poor unsuspecting students.
"If you did, I think my hands may well fall off before Christmas," I said seriously. I did really think my hand would fall off if I had to write that much.
"Well, we can't have that, can we? No, for future reference, when I say inches I mean down the length of the parchment, not inches thick," she said. I nodded, relieved, and turned around to join Hermione for lunch.
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"I can't believe you thought Professor McGonagall meant three inches thick," Hermione teased. I may be a bad influence on her. She had teased me all the way through lunch, though now that we were in Defense Against the Dark Arts she thankfully seemed to be losing steam.
I was not looking forward to this class. Despite all the differences this world had to offer, Quirrell was still the Defense Professor. Which made it an almost certain fact that he was possessed by Voldemort. If this was true I was in for a major headache when my cursed scar reacted to him. It hadn't happened at dinner last night but maybe it was proximity based, or he was just hesitant to try something so close to Dumbledore.
Sitting there in that classroom was nerve wracking. The person who killed my parents was sitting right there and there was nothing I could do about it except play dumb.
"Good afternoon class," Quirrell said smiling, his turban a dark green, matching his robes. "Please turn your books to page 245. We'll be talking about…"
The rest of the lesson continued, but I barely paid attention. I couldn't take my eyes off him, though I did keep my head turned towards my book. Periodically he would look at me, but I was never called on. It was odd—Quirrell seemed normal. He smiled and laughed, he shared stories relating to the lesson, and all around seemed very personable. It was disturbing.
It was not until dinner that night that I figured out what had been bothering me about Quirrell. Throughout the entire lesson he hadn't stuttered once. That did not bode well.
888
Do you know what the most disturbing thing about knowing the future is? Finding out that your information is wrong. Not all wrong, no, that would be too easy. At least if all your supposed knowledge was wrong you would be in the same boat as everyone else. My memories were close enough for me to still cling to them but off just enough to make me doubt every decision and assumed fact that I thought I knew.
For example, Charms class with Professor Flitwick was almost exactly as I pictured it. The class started with Professor Flitwick showing us the charm we were expected to learn today and then we spent the rest of the time practicing the spell, with Professor Flitwick walking around giving advice.
It was easily one of my favorite classes. Much more entertaining than History. I swear I saw Binns smile as the students began dropping fast asleep not ten minutes into his lecture. It didn't feel like grunt work like Herbology did, nor as gross as rending ingredients down for Potions class, and it was at a reasonable time unlike Astronomy.
All this fit my expectations of what Hogwarts was going to be like as I planned how to survive Voldemort. What did not fit my expectations was Quirrell acting like a good teacher. He was clear and engaging, and the class would have been both enjoyable and informative if I had been able to focus on it. As it was, each class was a trial. I spent more time trying to decide if Quirrell was indeed possessed by Voldemort than listening to the lessons. It had been nearly three weeks since the start of term and at this point I couldn't tell if he was possessed or if he was just a good teacher. It was freaking me out enough that I had had to go to Madam Pomfrey for a Calming Draught twice to help me sleep.
At any rate it was the day of our first flying lessons, and I was looking forward to it. I had bought a Nimbus 2000, with a shrinking spell already placed on it, on my trip to Diagon Alley with Hagrid. I bought it as a way to get away from, well, anything I didn't think I could actually beat in a fight. Unfortunately I had no idea how to use it. So for now it sat uselessly in the hart locket I wore every day.
"I still don't see why we need to learn to fly. It's practically useless unless you're going ride professionally," Hermione groused. Hermione was not looking forward to flying lessons. The past few days had seen some version of this complaint repeated more than a few times. When she wasn't complaining about the approaching flying lesson she was obsessively reading Quidditch Through the Ages as if she could learn flying from a book.
"It's like P.E. class, pointless but required," I said. Hermione had complained so much the last few days that the other Ravenclaw first years had started avoiding her, and since I spent most of my time with her they were avoiding me as well. It was a little annoying. I had started making friends with them, Padma in particular. Still, I had expected it so I wasn't too mad.
The entire first year class was waiting outside for Madam Hooch to show up. I was somewhat concerned about that. From my memories, and as confirmed by Hogwarts: A History, flying lessons for first years were usually held for no more than two houses at a time. Something had changed this, but what that was I had no idea. Until Quirrell walked onto the field.
"Madam Hooch is unable to teach class today or for the rest of the month, so I and the other Professors will be filling in as our schedule allows," Quirrell announced to the gathered first years. That was more than a little concerning. Magical healing was amazing—broken bones could be healed within a few days and most diseases were fought off by the magic already in our bodies. Anything that could put a witch out of commission for a month without killing her was unlikely to be the product of an accident. "Alright, everyone pick a broom and hold your wand hand out over it, then command it to rise to your hand. Say up!"
I gave Quirrell one last look before moving over to my broom and saying "UP!" It slammed into my hand. I smiled and looked over at Hermione. Her broom was wiggling around on the ground. She was growing frustrated as evidenced by her increasingly frizzy hair and reddening face. "Hermione," she ignored me. "Hermione, Hermione!" I said just under a shouting voice.
"What?!" Hermione said, her voice just as loud.
"When you say up, it's not an invitation or a please—it's a command. You are ordering it to obey you. Like this." I said putting my broom back on the ground. Before commanding "UP!" It slammed into my palm again. "Now you try. Remember, command. You are in charge." I put my broom in my other hand. That had actually hurt.
Hermione nodded and turned towards her broom. She took a deep breath and Said "UP," and up it went. She smiled before turning to look at me, her smile dropping.
"Yes, very good work Miss Granger," Quirrell drawled from right behind me. My heart pounded as I spun around, the knife I now kept in my sleeve falling into my hand as I dropped my broom. I twitched my arm just so and my wand came out of my wand holster.
My muscles tensed and readied to move. I waited for a moment just staring at Quirrell. A considering look passed over his face so fast I almost convinced myself I imagined it, before a slightly mocking smile settled on his mouth. "Did I startle you, Miss Potter?" Quirrell said, tilting his head slightly.
I was tense, my breath came in slow gasps and all he did was smile, bastard. I relaxed and took a calming breath. It was unlikely he would try something here with this many witnesses, and witnesses was the best these kids could hope to be if he tried. No, let's be honest, if he decided to kill me he would. There would be no try about it. I redoubled my resolve to fix this gap. Tonight. I would start tonight.
With one more deep breath I was finally able to look away from Quirrell. Only to find the entire first year class staring at me. Joy. Quirrell gave me one last look and walked away. I put my knife and wand away before saying, "UP," catching the broom as I got back in line.
"Are you ok?" Hermione asked, her face drawn in worry.
"No, but I will be," I said, forcing a smile. By now the rest of the class had started focusing on their brooms again, though I heard whispers of my name passing from their mouths. "Thank you for asking." Hermione did not look convinced but nodded and started focusing on Quirrell.
"All right, students. Now that you have your brooms, please mount them," Quirrell instructed. He walked down the lines giving advice and correcting form as necessary. "Now gently kick off the ground."
Following Quirrell's instructions, the class pushed off and started hovering. Unfortunately Neville didn't stop at hovering. Once Neville was in the air he quickly lost control of his broom and shot up into the sky. Before anyone had time to react the broom seemed to buck him off. He hit the ground arm first and everyone heard a sickening crunch.
After the scare that Quirrell gave me it was a good thing I was flying low, because as I heard Neville hit the ground I fell from my broom as well. The noise had made me nauseous and dizzy. Fortunately for me the ground was soft and my stomach settled quickly.
By the time I looked up, Quirrell had already spelled Neville to float behind him and was walking to the castle. He called out, before entering the castle, for everyone to stay on the ground.
"Look what poor Neville dropped," Draco Malfoy said as he walked over to the Gryffindor area of the courtyard. I sighed, I did not want to deal with this.
"Accio remembrall," Hermione said. I stared at her, when the hell had she learned that? Harry didn't even learn that until fourth year. I knew that she had been pushing herself to keep ahead of me, I was second in the first year grades wise, but to learn that after only being here for a few weeks was more than impressive. "Leave Neville's things alone, Malfoy."
Where was this coming from? I mean yes, Hermione was more confident than her movie counterpart, but this was not what I expected from her at this age. I shook my head. I guess I'd underestimated her.
"What do you think you are doing, mu-muggle-born?" Draco sneered, moderating his language at the last second.
"I was stopping you from bulling poor Neville," Hermione said, her face turning red.
"And what business is it of yours what I do, muggle-born?" Draco said his face inches from Hermione's. I was tempted to let this continue but both of them were headstrong and convinced they were in the right. This needed to stop and sadly there wasn't a teacher in sight, so I needed to stop this before Hermione did something that she would regret. Right now she didn't care about points but when she calmed down she'd be distraught.
"Ok, this is…" I tried to say before Hermione interrupted me.
"It's my business because Neville is a nice person and I won't let you bully him!" Hermione shouted.
"That's enough…" I tried again.
"Oh, fancy him do you?" The gathered students gasped. "I see you want to be the hero and give poor Neville his little ball, so maybe he will take pity on a poor penniless muggle-born and ask you out, is that your plan?" Draco asked his voice mocking. Ok, that is more than enough and I was about to put Draco on his ass when Hermione yelled.
"Take that back!"
"Make me," Draco said.
"Oh I will," Hermione said, reaching for her wand.
"Not here you uncouth barbarian. In a proper duel, tonight, midnight, third floor corridor," Draco said the last bit at a near whisper.
Hermione looked uncertain before responding, "Fine, tonight."
Motherf—
