Chapter 6: Goblins, Ghosts, and Wizards
"Wingar-gi-em Lev-ai-yo-saw" Will clipped articulately while pointing his wand in the swish and flick pattern.
It felt ridiculous.
This was attempt twenty-six and his feather adamantly remained unmoving on the desk in front of him. One of the Hufflepuff girls had already made her own feather explode, leaving her face devoid of eyebrows and covered in ash. Albus hadn't even tried yet, he'd just sat next to him and stared down at his feather. Clearing his throat, Will took a deep breath before trying again. Who knew magic could be so hard? His nerves were already on edge after Headmistress McGonigal's announcement to postpone classes due to a student found down early in the morning.
"Win-ger-jium Lev-ai-yo…" A hand clamped down over his mouth before he could finish.
Albus's eyes were wide and his head shook "no" as he removed his hand.
"What'd you that for?" Will huffed, tapping his wand against the table in irritation.
"That's the exact pronunciation Bryony Finnigan used five minutes ago when she blew her feather to smithereens."
"Oh." Will felt his stomach do a quick somersault. "Thanks for saving my feather. You've got a good ear for words, huh?"
He watched as Albus offered him a small smile.
"My mum's always told me I have 'sonic ears,' whatever that's supposed to mean," his friend laughed.
"You haven't tried the spell yet… because you've just been listening to everyone else mess it up, haven't you?" He grinned at Albus, raising an eyebrow in accusation.
"Well, Professor Flitwick only said it twice," Albus muttered. "I think I got the pronunciation right, but now I'm second-guessing myself. Everyone else is saying it so differently. You alone have managed a different articulation at least twenty times!"
"Well I'm hoping one of them will stick," Will grinned right back, watching his friend's mouth gape with horror. "Or you know, maybe I'll make an even bigger explosion than Bryony's! Might as well start off my schooling in wizardry with a bang."
Albus laughed at his joke and pushed the parchment he'd been scribbling notes onto across the desk to him.
"Win-GAR-dee-um Lev-ee-O-suh," he read Albus's scribbled notes. His friend had gnarly handwriting.
"Well, give it a go," Will encouraged.
He watched as Albus chewed his lip and furrowed his brows in concentration, reading the words and giving his wand a practice swish and flick. Albus's feather floated lazily up from the table. His friend's eyes were still concentrating on reading his notes, not even noticing the feather slowly rising above his head. How in the world had Albus done that?
"Well done, Mr. Potter! Well done indeed!" Professor Flitwick jumped up and down on a wobbling stool. "Five points to Gryffindor!"
Albus furrowed his eyebrows, eyes darting back and forth between Will and the featherless spot on the desk.
"Right there," Will pointed a meter above Albus's head and grinned.
"What? I didn't… How?" Albus blubbered, looking back and forth between him, his feather, Professor Flitwick, and his notes. Will felt mildly dizzy just watching.
"Professor," Albus called out, voice quivering. "I don't think I did the spell. At least I didn't say anything."
"Explain yourself, dear boy," Professor Flitwick encouraged. "What do you mean you didn't say anything?"
"I… I was just practicing the pronunciation in my head. Reading my notes. And I was also practicing the swish and flick motion too." A red blush bolstered from Albus' ears to his cheeks.
"Mr. Potter, I believe you just happened upon very advanced magic indeed!" The professor's eyes were wide and excited. "That's extraordinary. Non-verbal spell casting isn't taught until sixth year! You may yet become just as extraordinary as your father!"
He watched as Albus fidgeted uncomfortably under the envious gaze of the entire class. Professor Flitwick looked like he was going to harp on it more. Didn't teachers realize when they were making students a target? Albus's face turned from beet-red to was a nasty shade of moon-white.
Screw it. Let's start out with a bang after all.
"Win-ger-jium Lev-ai-yo-saw," Will enunciated, bracing himself for the explosion that knocked him out of his seat.
Will smiled as Professor Flitwick rushed over to him and dismissed class, back throbbing from the collision with the row behind him.
Heart pounding with excitement, Albus glanced past the rows of cauldrons and stared at the hourglass, trickling the last of the sand, perched on the professor's desk.
"Rose and the Slytherins should be arriving any moment now!" Albus said. Will grunted in acknowledgement, rubbing his neck and back, face still coated in a thick layer of feather ash.
Everyone had thought Will's explosion had been an accident, but Albus had immediately recognized it as a purposeful distraction. He couldn't even begin to describe to his new friend how grateful he was for taking the class's attention away from him. How does one even begin to thank someone for such a thing? Albus doubted he would've had the guts himself to ever purposefully blow something up and put himself in danger like that. Will had been bruised pretty heavily as his back had been blasted into the raised desk behind them. Professor Flitwick had been astonished that nothing was broken or bleeding. Will had laughed it off and told the class he'd been born with bones made of iron.
Albus' heart stuttered as soon as the Slytherins entered the room and took their seats, segregating themselves on the opposite side from the Gryffindors. One particularly tan boy kicked the back of Burt's chair and ushered some of the Gryffindor girls out of "their" side of the front row.
"Tossers," Will muttered as they watched the Slytherins take over previously occupied seats despite protestations.
Albus strained his neck to peer across the room, searching for a glance of untamed red hair.
"I don't see her either," he heard Will whisper.
Did he dare inquire about his cousin to the group of Slytherins? What if they'd done something to her, like locking her up in a broom closet, making her late for class?
"Pardon me," Albus leaned over and waved his hand to the closest Slytherin.
A girl with short and shiny black hair whipped her head towards him, almond eyes narrowing into a glare. He swallowed. She turned her head back to her friend, ignoring him.
"Hey, quick question," his voice raised an octave, trying to get the attention of the Slytherin girl again.
"Oh by Balthazar, it's like noise is actually coming out of its mouth... polluting my ears," the girl giggled to another Slytherin beside her.
"If you please…" Albus felt his voice growing softer. "I'm looking for Rose. Is she here?"
"Perhaps he's blind too," the girl's friend let out an obnoxious laugh. Albus ground his teeth.
"Such a Gryffindor," he heard a Slytherin boy murmur. "Always stating the obvious."
"Just tell us where she is," he heard Will command as he slapped his palm down on their shared desk.
"Or you'll do what, soot-face?" the boy laughed back, a brilliant white smile flashing, contrasting against his rich, brown skin.
"Careful…" he heard Will hiss. "Just tell us where she is."
He heard the doors to the classroom swing open and an older man strode into the room, basket stuffed to the brim with potions clutched in hand.
"Welcome! Welcome Slytherins and Gryffindors!" he shouted, smiling exaggeratedly.
Albus bit his lip. What did the Slytherins do to his cousin? Was she really going to miss the class?
"I am Professor Slughorn, Potion's Master and Head of Slytherin House," he exclaimed while gingerly lining up his potions in a neat row. "In this class I will teach you one of the most refined, exact, powerful, and quite possibly the most dangerous forms of magic... potions. Today, however, let's have some fun!"
Professor Slughorn sent the vials he'd lined up neatly whizzing across the room, one each landing in the center of the partnered desks. A long vial landed between Will and him with a clink, yellow and bubbling.
"For the next month, you will focus your efforts on not only determining the potion I've placed in front of you, but everything about it. Why the shape of the bottle? How thick is the vial and why? What's the container made of? What is the color of the potion? Viscosity? Smell? Sound? How does it interact with different items?" Professor Slughorn rattled on.
Albus desperately tried to dash down notes with his quill. His writing looked like Diricawl scratch.
"We will first learn to describe what we see before we determine what it is, what it does, how it works, how to capitalize on its effectiveness… and of course, how to brew it!" Slughorn concluded.
Here he was thinking potions was just learning how to brew ingredients.
"A word of caution to each of you, however!" Professor Slughorn focused his attention on a Slytherin boy who a cherry-red potion to his lips. "Whatever you do, do not drink the potion, or I fear you may wind up with Madame Pomfrey."
Dead silence filled the room.
"Now, before we begin, let me demonstrate with this potion here," the professor raised a small, circular orange vial for the class's inspection.
"Now, many witches and wizards will simply brew a potion and place it in any old bottle without a second thought. For many potions, that'll do… though it may hinder the effectiveness if stored for longer bouts of time. Now, any guesses as to why this vial may be circular rather than, say, rectangular?"
Albus had no idea, and he looked around the class to see if anyone would raise their hand. If Rose were here, she'd likely know the answer.
"Mr. Polyton," Professor Slughorn read from his class roster, "Please give me your best guess."
Albus watched as Burt's knees began to shake nervously. "Um, does it have anything to do with how it flows out of the bottle, Professor?"
"Not a bad guess!" Slughorn exclaimed. "Not a bad guess at all! The power lies more in its symbolism. Circles indicate change, time, constant alteration. If I were to walk in a circle now, I would be changing my course, changing my viewpoint... until I once land back where I was. Now rectangular bottles, those are more symbolic for lines. A constant course… If I were to walk in a straight line, I'd simply end up in a new place and have no means to go back to where I was."
Albus' notes were now riddled with question marks. He had not expected potions to be so philosophical.
"Now, would anyone like to take a guess again as to why a vial might be circular vs rectangular?" Slughorn asked with an eager smile. "Ah yes, Mr. Malfoy!"
He turned around to find a Slytherin boy with platinum blond hair sitting alone in the last row.
"Based off of what you're saying…" the boy began, voice cool and easy. "It seems if the vial is circular, and circles indicate a change that starts at 'point A' and ends at 'point A,' perhaps the effects of the potion only cause a temporary change. And with rectangular potions being more like lines that move from 'point A' to 'point B,' I presume that kind of vial would indicate a more permanent change."
"Right you are, Mr. Malfoy! Right indeed!" he watched as the professor clapped his hands gleefully. "I couldn't have said it better myself. 5 points to Slytherin! So for example, if we store healing potions in a rectangular vile, the effectiveness will be increased."
"Now! Turn to page 10 and look at the color chart. What can this orange color tell you about my potion?"
Albus found himself engrossed in the detective work that went behind guessing the professor's potion. A competitive spirit emerged between the Slytherins and Gryffindors as they battled to be the first to guess the meaning behind different aspects of the potion, and eventually the potion itself. He and his fellow Gryffindors had guessed the potion would temporarily turn one's hair into fire and the Slytherins had thought the potion would change a body part into some kind of orange food or plant. They'd all watched as Malcolm Lightstorm eventually volunteered to drink the potion and his head welled up into a pumpkin. Will had seemed both astonished, delighted, and terrified. Slytherin had been awarded 10 additional points for getting the closest to identifying Pompion Potion.
"Now, you and your partner will have by the end of the month to tell me everything you know about the potion I have provided you with," Professor Slughorn ended the class, after reassuring Malcolm that his head would only be a pumpkin for half an hour.
His twin, Harvey, had been thrilled to look different from his brother for 30 minutes.
"So, where do you think Rose is?" Will asked as they made the long walk to History of Magic.
Albus felt his stomach instantly twist into knots. He'd tried his best to take notes for Rose during class. He knew his notes were terrible and nearly illegible. Useless.
"I'm hoping during lunch I can find James, or even Teddy. He's my dad's godson. And perhaps we could confront the Slytherins about Rose's absence." He still felt the pang of hopelessness from the beginning of class, when the Slytherins bullied him.
"Count me in too!" Will offered with a smile.
A ghost. An actual ghost was teaching History of Magic!
Will could hardly believe it. Then again, at least twenty incredible things had already happened today that he wouldn't have dreamt were even possible in his wildest of dreams.
He redirected his attention back to Professor Binns. How the professor managed to have an unnaturally calming and sleep-inducing voice boggled him, especially with such an exciting subject! The professor had just mentioned something about ancient civilizations and magic, the mix between the Wizarding World and Non-Magic World, and an eventual direction into the magic world secreting themselves as much as possible from "muggles."
Will turned to Albus to make a comment about how incredible all this was, but found Albus's eyes fluttering open and closed. He turned to take in the Ravenclaws, who appeared exceptionally bored and taking very few notes. Most of his Gryffindor classmates were sound asleep on their desks or had their heads propped in their hands. Malcolm's face was beginning to emerge again too, a nose, ears, eyes, and chin spurting through his pumpkin head. Shoot! Now Professor Binns was talking about Goblin Rebellions! The professor talked too quick for him to keep up with his quill.
"The wars were most prevalent in the seventeenth and eighteenth century, as the Wizarding World become increasingly governed by laws and legislation with the formation of the Ministry of Magic in 1707. Accountability tripled with the founding of the Aurors to uphold the laws in 1773."
Aurors? Wasn't Albus's dad an Auror? They must be like the police… or maybe even more like secret agents? Either way, sounded like a magic version of Scotland Yard.
"As mentioned earlier, the Ministry of Magic emerged from the Wizard's Council, which was formed sometime in the thirteenth century, likely before 1269. In its early days, it had brought together prominent members of Wizarding society to hold each other in check, however, it mostly focused on hiding Quidditch from non-magical beings."
Quidditch? There was so much lingo he had yet to learn. He wished Albus wasn't dozing off so he could ask him questions about it all.
"Nevertheless, tension had grown between Wizards and magical beings. Discrimination and Prejudice formed on both sides, leading to early skirmishes between Goblins and Wizards."
Will leaned forward, feeling a jolt of sweat rush across his skin.
The magical beings he'd met at Gringotts Bank had been Goblins. Did discrimination still exist against them today? They seemed to hold positions of power in the bank he'd visited. But then again, he didn't recall seeing any Goblins outside of Gringotts. Did they have a school of magic for their children too? Were magical beings… segregated?
"It wasn't until 1631 that the Wizard's Council banned non-human magical beings from carrying a wand. This is the primary catalyst that led to one of the first major rebellions between Goblins and Wizards."
Hold the phone. Will's quill screeched across his notes.
Goblins had been able to access magic through wands too? Wouldn't that make them part wizard? Or did their magic come out differently through a wand?
Will raised his hand and held it for a solid minute, but Professor Binns didn't notice. He'd have to wait and ask after class.
"Their power lessened by a lack of wands, goblins allied themselves with werewolves and their attacks against the wizarding community strengthened. In turn, the Wizarding Council enacted the Werewolf Code of Conduct soon after in 1637. However, this ultimately failed as no werewolf actually dared reveal themselves by arriving to sign up."
Will felt his blood freeze, his heart miss a beat.
Werewolves. Werewolves existed, after all this time?
He forced himself to take a few deep breathes and tried to push away the memories he had of that fateful dusk. An early full moon had hung in the in sky. Will had been playing ball with Gordon, his friend. His friend who'd been attacked when he'd turned his back to run after their ball. Attacked by a giant dog? A wolf? A monster with sharp teeth covered in blood and claws like knives. A monster who he could've sworn had just been a homeless man asleep on the park bench minutes ago.
He'd remembered screaming and throwing the ball with all his might at the giant wolf, bouncing off a furry back. His mother and Gordon's parents had run over immediately. The wolf had scampered away into the shadows of the London fog.
No one had believed him.
Will had spent almost half his life being told his brain had played tricks on him, that he couldn't trust what he'd seen or heard. That he hallucinates. That he had a disorder.
Maybe he did have a disorder still. He'd been traumatized. He'd watched Gordon die from his wounds in the hospital after all. As for his brain, he'd continued to see and hear things others didn't. A whole year he'd spent in that juvenile psychiatric ward.
Deep breaths. Take deep breaths. I'll think about all this later. Pay attention to Professor Binns and this lecture.
"Many non-magical beings were compromised and caught in the cross-fire during these early rebellions, thus leading the Wizarding Council to sign the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy in 1692."
His hand was cramping as he struggled to write down everything fast enough.
Statute of Wizarding Secrecy - that's why he'd been ignorant of this magical world his whole life! Would it have made any difference if he'd known about magic growing up? Would Gordon still be alive today if their families had known about magic and werewolves? Would they have been able to take more protective measures? Are there things his mum could use right now to keep herself safe from anything else magical and dangerous out there?
They were sitting ducks!
For the first time since discovering he was a wizard, Will felt anger surge through him. Surely the Aurors' jobs were to protect both magical and non-magical beings… but how obligated did they actually feel to protect muggles? Next class would likely go into what the Wizarding Council, now Ministry of Magic, has done since deciding to keep non-magical beings defenseless, in the dark. He'd read ahead.