Chapter 7

A New Year

Charity returned to her second year as a Hogwarts professor after spending a good portion of her summer holidays in America. While there, she and her parents had visited Salem, Massachusetts, sight of the Salem Witch Trials of 1692. Quite hilarious really, seeing that as far as anyone knew, witches and wizards did not appear in America until the late 1800s. Unlike the Muggles, magical people were not under monarchy rule at that time and had had very little reason to uproot their families and leave their homes, especially considering that the group of people relocating to America was the very type to burn witches.

Charity returned from her travels with gifts from the Salem Witch Museum and Gift Store for each of the Hogwarts teachers. She gave them out as they gathered in the somewhat moldy staff lounge for their beginning of the year faculty meeting.

"For you Professor Sinistra," she said as she handed the Astronomy professor a zodiac wall hanging.

Sinistra seemed genuinely pleased, and commented with surprise, "Why, those Muggles have almost got it right!" as she studied the woven map of the stars.

"Magical Beans for you Professor Sprout – they're supposed to grow bean stalks to three times their normal size."

Sprout shook the package saying, "I'll bet I can get them up to ten!"

Charity gave a mug with the words 'Stop by for a Spell' to Professor Flitwick, an East Coast Witches T-shirt to Madam Hooch, the Quidditch coach, and a stuffed black cat to Professor McGonagall. Charity was pleased to see all three pop up later in the year on Flitwick's desk, Madam Hooch's person and propped next to books on McGonagall's office shelves.

For Hagrid, she brought a pewter Pocket Dragon with crystals embedded in the eyes; Muggles said it brought good luck. Unfortunately, Hagrid was not to be found. Professor Grubbley-Plank was taking over Care of Magical Creatures lessons for an unspecified amount of time, and no explanation for Hagrid's absence was given. Charity hoped it didn't have anything to do with the awful article Rita Skeeter had published earlier in the year about Hagrid being half giant. At least Charity could take satisfaction in the fact that the horrid reporter had apparently been canned; she hadn't seen one article from her all summer. Charity pocketed Hagrid's dragon and would make a point of getting it to him one way or another.

Turning to Sibyll Trelawney, professor of Divination and all things clairvoyant, Charity said, "I'll bet you already know what this is."

"Of course, my dear, and it's just exactly what I knew you would choose," Trelawney replied in her misty voice as she opened her box to find a fortune-telling tea cup, complete with instructions painted right on the saucer. Trelawney looked as if she was trying to decide whether or not this was an insult, while McGonagall sniggered in the corner.

"Don't worry, I haven't forgotten you," Charity said to Snape, who appeared to be getting impatient with the whole production. She handed him a small box, which he opened to reveal a silver and glass ring. Inside the glass was a thick liquid.

"It's a mood ring," she explained. "You wear it and it changes color depending on what kind of mood you're in. I thought it might be useful for us to know when it would be a good time to approach you and when it would be a good time to, eh, not." This comment drew general chuckles in the room, and Charity caught and held Snape's eye for the briefest second. This was the year she was going to make good on her promise to make him like her.

The final gift was for Dumbledore. It was a liquid-filled ball point pen with a little witch on a broom, which glided when you tilted it. He appeared delighted, and chuckled as he tilted the pen back and forth, watching the little witch fly to and fro, before he said, "Thank you Professor Burbage for that delightful start to the school year. Now, down to business."

Part of that business was the assignment of a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, who would be joining them in just a few days. Doloris Umbridge was coming from the Ministry of Magic, and, it seemed, was to maintain her connection with that entity while teaching at Hogwarts. It was a very unusual situation. The Minister of Magic seemed to think that Dumbledore's sanity was slipping because the headmaster supported young Harry Potter's assertion that Lord Voldemort had returned to power. Fudge let everyone know, in no uncertain terms, that this story was simply not true. Apparently, the Wizengamut and the International Confederation of Wizards agreed, because they had both expelled Dumbledore from their ranks over the summer. Dumbledore was quirky, to be sure, but Charity and all the other professors at Hogwarts had complete confidence in his sanity. As far as Potter's story…well, Charity personally tended to think that perhaps stress had finally gotten to the poor boy. The pressure of the tournament alone was enough to push any fourteen-year-old over the edge, but to see one of his fellow champions die right in front of him! Charity couldn't imagine the horror. Add to that the fact that he'd been orphaned as a baby, when both of his parents had been murdered, and it was no wonder that he'd revert to visions of Voldemort when something traumatic happened.

Charity didn't think that Dumbledore was daft to believe the story. Most likely, his intention was for everyone to be prepared for the worst, just in case. Even if Voldemort hadn't risen that night at the tournament, as Potter claimed, there were all those rumors that what's-his-face was still lying in wait, searching for a way to return. Besides, Dumbledore was a tremendously kind man, and Potter seemed to be a favorite of his; he simply wouldn't let the boy twist in the wind alone with this outrageous story.

There was another, less flattering, theory regarding why Dumbledore supported the boy's story. Charity's father had come home from work one day with gossip he'd heard around the office. Apparently, Fudge thought that Dumbledore was after the Ministry's top job, and so wanted to spread fear throughout the Wizarding community in order to throw support away from Fudge and onto himself. While growing up, Charity had heard her father comment more than once that Dumbledore had once seemed to be on the lightning track to become Minister of Magic. Nobody really knew why he'd veered off that track and headed for Hogwarts instead. Had he recently had a change of heart? At any rate, that's what the Ministry thought, and that's probably why Doloris Umbridge was now headed for the school - to keep close tabs on Dumbledore.

Enrollment in Muggle Studies had dropped to only ten students for that year. Charity couldn't help but wonder why. Was she really that bad of a teacher? She found out the reason behind the decline when she ran into Jessica Bellwith in the hallway.

"Welcome back Miss Bellwith," Charity said brightly.

"Hi Professor," Jessica responded, with her big brown eyes downcast. "Professor, I…I wanted to take Muggle Studies again, but my mum…" she said as she started tearing up, "..my mum wouldn't let me. She says Muggles are the last thing I should be studying with all the rumors about You-Know-Who flying around. I mean, she isn't sure she believes any of them or anything, but…but what if…"

So that was it. Of course, she should have known. Charity thought back to how angry and frightened the parents had been after the essays last winter - and that was before anyone was claiming that what's-his-face had returned to full power. The evil wizard had had many dark goals during his reign of terror, but his highest priority seemed to be to torture and kill Muggle-borns and wreak havoc in the Muggle world. The last thing he'd want to see would be young witches and wizards learning about and accepting Muggle culture; therefore, it was only natural that magical people would distance themselves from any association with Muggles amidst the rumors of Voldemort's return.

"Don't worry about it, sweetie," Charity said, putting a reassuring hand on Jessica's shoulder. "Your mum's just looking out for you. That's what mum's do."

"Professor, what about you? If you keep teaching about Muggles…aren't you worried about You-Know-Who?"

"Listen, the Ministry of Magic has assured us that the rumors are only that – rumors. But if what's-his-face does come back and wants to take my class, well then, he's welcome to sit in like anyone else," Charity said as she gave Jessica a wink and continued down the hall.

Charity was tremendously proud of the ten brave students that signed up for her class despite the undercurrent of fear. Charles was back, along with Bridget, and Nigel. A handful of third years also joined them this year. After teaching the students all she had learned about early Muggles in America, Charity took the class back to the Hogwarts kitchens for a lesson on baking without magic. She'd gotten the idea for the lesson when she came across an ancient cookbook in the library titled 'Baking Without Magic.' She'd been surprised to see it among all of the books full of magical and mystical ways. She had to treat it gingerly, because the old binding was cracked, and the yellow pages threatened to fall out at the smallest gust of air. She'd gently brushed the dust from the cover and automatically opened to a recipe for Triple Chocolate Layer cake since the page had been dog-eared. There were several crusty stains on the page and a faded star that someone had drawn a long time ago, so she felt certain this recipe must have been an old favorite of someone's. Charity was all for learning from others' experience, so she decided to look no further in deciding what the class would bake.

The elves were more receptive than they had been at the class's last field trip to the kitchens, because this field trip entailed loads of extra work for them. The house elves lugged out heavy bags of flour, carefully balanced cartons of eggs, and ran back to the cupboards every time Charity realized she'd forgotten an ingredient.

"These are called measuring cups," Charity explained, while she held up metal cups marked with number on their handles. "They are for measuring dry ingredients. These," she now held up small glass pitchers with lines and numbers along the side, "are for measuring liquids. We are going to use them to measure our ingredients, so I hope at least some of you know something about Arithmancy."

A special oven had to be brought in for the lesson because, of course, house elves had no need of such things. Charity had to break her own Muggle Rules again and use magic to heat the oven since there was no electricity in the castle. Students and elves alike watched the enchanted red element at the bottom of the oven heat up. Then the rest of the kitchen heated up, while a fog of flour and cocoa filled the air.

While partnered with Laura Nottingsly, a third year in Gryffindor, to whisk the dry ingredients, Charles, who was in Ravenclaw, asked her, "So, what's the drama with Potter these days?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Laura answered him stiffly.

"Aw, come on - your big Triwizard hero. You're not telling me he's actually going to just quietly go to class like the rest of us lowly students, are ya?"

Nigel, also a Gryffindor, said, "Ignore him Laura, he's just jealous that no one ever takes the time to notice what smelly old Charles Whitney's doing."

Charity felt she should step in to stop the squabble, but was curious to see what the students really thought about the Potter situation. She'd read the articles all summer in the Daily Prophet. The wizard newspaper definitely painted the Potter boy as something of an egotistical show-off. From the little contact she'd personally had with him, he didn't strike her as the arrogant type so she put more weight on her own, more sympathetic, theories as to why he came up with these stories. On the other hand…the Potter boy did seem to get away with a lot more than did the other students, naturally some of them would become resentful after a while.

The argument ended over the excitement of egg cracking. The students took turns learning the technique, and, thankfully, the elves were very quick at cleaning spilled yolks with a snap of their fingers. It took so many tries to master the art of egg-cracking that Charity had to send an elf out for more eggs. When he came back, he slipped on a patch of freshly spilled vegetable oil. Charity nearly whipped out her wand to save the eggs, but didn't want to break her own Muggle Rules twice in one lesson, so merely winced as the eggs smashed and oozed all over the floor. The House Elves snapped away and the mess was cleaned up in a few minutes, but during that time, the elf who'd slipped made a run for the hot oven. It took a good quarter of an hour for the students to pry his boney fingers from the appliance, in which he was desperately trying to burn off his own head as punishment for the mishap.

When the rich, brown batter was finally all mixed together, Charles was at again. He dipped a finger into the chocolate, and drew a lightning scar on his forehead. Harry Potter had been left with such a scar after his incident with Voldemort when he was a baby.

"Look at me! Look at me!" Charles shouted in a mocking voice. Then he threw the back of his hand to his forehead and said dramatically, "Oh, I've got the vapors. Please rush over and give me lots of attention," and fell to the floor. Charity noted that about half the students laughed while the other half glared maliciously at Charles.

The Ministry of Magic, meanwhile, was working through Doloris Umbridge to weed out what they saw as unsavory practices at Hogwarts. Teaching students about Muggles was likely at the top of their list of such practices. The Ministry was not so much anti-Muggle as anti-Dumbledore, and since Dumbledore was a well known proponent of wizard-Muggle relations, the Ministry would correspondingly want to squash them. Charity had been forewarned that Umbridge was making her rounds to observe classes under the guise of keeping course content "up to snuff." It was a thinly-veiled attempt to get rid of those subjects and teachers the Ministry didn't like. Professor Trelawney had already been put on probation by the time Charity fully understood the implications.

When the Pink Devil (the teacher's secret nickname for Umbridge, since she always wore the most revolting shade of pink) strolled into Muggle Studies, with her too-big-to-be-real smile, Charity was prepared. As the squat woman stood poised at the back of the classroom with her pen and clipboard at the ready, Charity asked the class,

"How many Muggles does it take to work a Deluminator?"

"One?" said a skinny third year, Lucas Snively, in an apparently earnest attempt to get the answer right.

"300!" chimed in Charles Whitney.

"Answer: None, they keep trying to light their cigarettes with it!" Charity said and paused, listening to the few tentative chuckles. It was a pretty lame joke. Then she said, "Now, that can't be the only Muggle joke you've ever heard," and looked around.

"No," a few of the students said quietly, a bit unsure about where this was going.

"My dad knows like a million of them," Charles announced proudly.

"Well, let's hear one."

"Really?" Young Whitney looked surprised but thrilled. Charity nodded, and he stood up and took the stage:

"Two Muggles were trying to unlock their car with a coat hanger. The first Muggle said, 'I can't seem to get this door open.' The second Muggle said, 'Well, you better hurry up – it's starting to rain and the top is down!'" Charles beamed when the class laughed.

"Anyone else?"

"Oooh, ooh, ooh," said most of the rest of the class with their hands raised; they seemed to be encouraged by the warm response to Charles' joke, and Charity called on them one by one. She noticed that Charlotte, a rather sensitive third year in Hufflepuff, looked upset while Lora Nottingsly explained to the class how to tell the difference between a Muggle and a Snorkack. She discreetly made her way over to the girl, and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"What do Muggle owls say?"asked Nigel Lumpkin with a wide grin on his freckled face. "What? What?" he answered, then giggled loudly at his own joke.

Umbridge seemed to be having the time of her life. The smile on her flabby face actually looked genuine as she scribbled happily on her clipboard. She even told a rather off-color Muggle joke in her faux-girlish voice before leaving the room. (Charity found out later that Umbridge was so pleased with the class that she'd signed a decree making Muggle Studies a required course for all third years, starting the following September.) Once Charity was sure that Umbridge was far enough down the hall, she closed the door and returned to the head of the class.

"Well students, we've just spent the better part of an hour talking about how stupid Muggles are," she said. She let this sink in and then made her point, "Do you see how difficult it's going to be for Muggles to ever be accepted into our society as equals, when we have literally," at this she held up a thick book titled Bippity Bopp's Big Book of Stupid Muggle Jokes, "written volumes about how inferior they are to us magical types?" She winked at Charlotte who looked gratified.