(Coeus Black - PoV)

After a rather disappointing lunch (They didn't have bacon! Thank Merlin Death Trolley was there to provide) we accompany the rest of the first years to, err, History.

The room is pretty nice. Well, actually it is rather plain, very little decoration, but the stained glass windows go a long way to make up for it, even changing scenes regularly according to Dora. Not only that, but they often display events that occurred after Hogwarts was founded!

...

I really want to know how they do that. As far as I know no one knows how to modify or update whatever enchantment is on them.

Regardless, right now they depict the founding of Hogwarts, Merlin's banishment, King Arthur and Morgan le Fay, and-

...

Voldemort's fall.

The disintegrating Dark Lord, arms spread wide, kneeling before a crib with a baby Iris.

...

Turning to my left, I am completely unsurprised to find Iris staring hard at the window.

It's...sort of easy to forget?

Yes, she's special. And famous. But so are we? We get all sorts of attention, and have our Sight.

But Iris...Iris is part of history.

She will be remembered.

I...want tha-

...

No.

No, Iris is famous and remembered for what happened to her. Not for something she truly did. Something she chose.

And then, how the world treated her after...

Leaning over, I reach across the gap between desks and grab her hand, finally breaking her focus on the window as she looks at me.

Giving her a small smile, I glance around the room, noting the expected stares and whispers.

"Want me to ask Grandfather how the lawsuit is going? Against that publisher?" I ask.

She blinks for a moment before scowling, remembering those terrible books.

We are in History, may as well help people learn it. Or at least stop some of the nonsense going around.

It only takes a moment's consideration before she nods silently.

Really, that window is going to give everyone entirely the wrong idea. Sure she is awesome, and totally has special powers, but...

...

Look, those books are total garbage and need to be burned. The fact Iris is better than these idiots is irrelevant.

Binns chooses that exact moment to begin his start of term lecture and I sigh.

Dora says that he gives the exact same speech to every class at the start of every year, and his voice is every bit as bad as she warned.

No wonder everyone sleeps through this class...Or tries to at least. Said voice is also loud. Loud enough to make trying to talk to anyone else difficult.

It also explains all the random...stuff, piled up in the corners of the room.

Loose books, game boards and pieces, toys, art supplies, and more litter the sides and corners of the room.

Normally I would expect the House Elves to clean such mess up. Maybe they give this room a pass, allowing the collection to linger so students can browse it?

Hmm.

I sigh again.

Dora says things do get better. That he actually can go into some pretty interesting stuff, if you can knock him off out of his routine.

But it takes a bit of work most of the time. Usually several people, working together and asking the right questions, and during the right topics. On the first day?

A lost cause.

Nothing dissuades his start-of-term speech.

...

Ugh.

Irritated, I idly begin carving *BORED* into the desk only to watch said desk repair itself.

!

Carefully examining the desktop, nothing appears out of the ordinary. It is only after climbing out of my seat and searching the underside of the desk that I find the runework.

(Phoebe.)

(Phoebe!)

[?]

(The desks are enchanted! They repair themselves!)

(Probably to stop needing to fix or replace them from everyone doodling on them.)

[Similarity?]

(Yes, like I was. Do you blam-And like you are!)

Lifting myself up, I catch her drawing on the desk herself.

(Wait, what are you drawing?)

[Ancestors.]

(Ancestors? Oh, you mean Morgan and Arthur?)

Ignoring her slowly fading drawing (What are they doing?) I glance back over to the windows again.

The Voldemort one drew most of my attention before, but now that she mentions it? Yeah. It is kind of cool having our Ancestors up there as well.

Sighing, Phoebe lays her head on the desk.

(What's up?)

[Annoyance. Distraction. Banshee.]

I frown.

(Is that a thing? I thought banshees were all girls)

She points in Binn's direction, remaining silent as he drones on, and I concede the point.

...

Shaking my head, I climb back under the desk to examine the enchantment.

A far better use of my time than the rambly, mind-numbing speech.

...

It is a pretty basic enchantment, unfortunately. And this is a loooong class.

...

I wonder, wouldn't it work better if I just added an enhancement rune here? And then here...yes...Then maybe shift the whole thing into an array?


Aaaand, done!

Checking over my work one last time, I give a nod.

Perfect. The effect should be way stronger now.

Putting my tools away, I give Pocket a pat and a quiet thanks before shrinking her down and climbing back into my seat.

Phoebe cracks one eye, giving me a questioning look as I pull out my dag-Wolfsbane!

"Testing my new enchantment," I tell her as I begin to carve into the desk.

"*TESTING*"

The letters disappear as fast as I can cut them.

Success!

Opening her eyes, Phoebe sits up for some reason.

"New enchan-," she begins, her eyes widening.

Grabbing me, she throws us backward away from the desk as it begins glowing.

Thaaat's, probably not-

Aaand bursts into flames.

Merlin damnit.

...

The entire class stares at the desk as it burns with clearly magical fire, the multi-colored flames nearly reaching the ceiling but not consuming the desk itself.

Yet, at least. The conversion array seems to be doing its job.

Success?

"I didn't do it," Iris speaks up.

"...I think?"

Daphne is muttering something, but I can't make it out over Binn's speech.

Which is still going.

He really won't let anything interrupt his speech.

Shaking my head, I help Phoebe up, dust myself off, and raise my hand.

"Err, Professor? Our desk is on fire."

Glancing up from his notes, the ghost waves a hand at us dismissively before looking back down, not missing a word.

Well, that's-

The flames surge before disappearing entirely as the desk falls through the floor.

Err...

Problem...solved?

Exchanging a look with Phoebe, we shrug before looking around for a new desk.

There are plenty of spares.

Hmm. Alternatively...

Grabbing my chair, I drag it over to Iris and take a seat at the end of her desk. Phoebe follows, sitting across from her, facing away from Binns.

Iris looks at us questioningly as Daphne groans.

"If you set this desk on fire I will set you on fire," she threatens the moment I open my mouth.

"That's fair," Phoebe agrees. "I'll help."

!

Phoebe...


The Defense classroom changes up every year, according to Dora. Apparently, the room itself can be heavily altered between years, or even between classes?

This year looks...surprisingly promising!

The setup in the front half of the room is fairly standard (desks, boards, charts, and the like) but the back has a large area with dummies, targets, and even a dueling stage.

The four of us claim seats near the front this time as we wait for everyone to arri-

"Oh, hey Books! You in this class?" I ask the walking mass of hair and books as she takes the desk to our right.

Adjusting one of the towers of books on her desk, she gives me a look before replying.

"Yes."

She pauses a moment before continuing.

"I don't suppose you are actually going to pay attention in this class?" she asks.

I blink at her.

"Of course," I reply. "It's Defense! A class with actual spell work!"

I grimace.

"Probably. Hopefully..."

Any further conversation is cut off as the door to the professor's office slams shut, drawing everyone's attention and instantly quieting the room.

The professor is...not particularly impressive? Plain black robes. Average height. Thin, boring face.

About the only thing that makes him stand out is the, honestly kind of ugly, purple turban.

...

Slowly making his way to his desk, he doesn't even bother to look at us as he takes his seat.

"I won't bother with roll call," he begins, still not looking at us as he shifts through the parchment on his desk.

"You are here to learn. Or not. The choice is yours. I am not going to waste my time on those uninterested in doing so."

Books shoots me another look but I ignore it.

I already told her, this is a real class.

"As we will only have one year together, I plan to largely focus on the practical side of things. This is not a slight against the theoretical, it's value cannot, be overstated. Alas, we simply do not have the time. I will provide book recommendations for those interested in extracurricular study. Questions?"

Books hand shoots up immediately. A few others slowly rise up after.

The professor still doesn't look up, but flicks a finger towards the middle of the room, where one of the hands is raised.

"Why did you take the post?" the boy asks. "You obviously know about the...err..."

"Curse, yes."

He waves a hand dismissively.

"It is hardly the first curse I have had to endure. They are far more common than most like to think. As for why..."

He shrugs.

"I attended Hogwarts myself, you know. And while many classes were exceptional, others...were not. You are still young, but I am sure you will experience, at some point in your lives, a certain thought. 'I can do better.'"

He smiles down at his papers.

"I. Can. Do. Better." he repeats, biting off each word. "Yes, I was, and still am, quite confident in my belief. So, despite our little complication, I remain compelled to prove it."

Raising his hand again, he points towards the girl by the window this time.

"What's with the turban?" she asks.

"Fashion-conscious, are you?"

She blinks at him.

"Umm...M-Maybe? It just...kind of stands out?"

He nods.

"Take note, class. Fashion, clothing...how one holds and carries themselves? Useless nonsense, for empty-headed socialites...it is -not-."

Most of the class jumps slightly as he laces the last word with a trace of power.

"As I said before, we don't have time to properly cover the subject, but being able to read people is a vital skill for...Defense. One that anyone looking to specialize in the subject must learn to survive any length of time."

"As for your question," he continues after a dramatic pause, "the turban was a "gift" from a Nigerian prince after I dealt with a particularly dangerous vampire that was troubling the local population."

...

Silence descends as he pauses once more.

...

"G-Gift?" the girl speaks up again. "I could hear the, umm..."

The Professor nods.

"Yes. Another small bit of advice for anyone who decides to specialize in a more, adventurous, career. Always look into the local situation before getting, stuck in, as it were. In-depth, if possible. Don't just take matters at face value."

He taps his fingers on his desk.

"It turns out that the vampire had something of an arrangement with the prince. It targeted all of the local malcontents, undesirables, and agents of his rivals, in exchange for, essentially, sanction. As far as the prince was concerned, they had a good thing going. Until some blasted foreigner came in and ruined it."

"So. My "reward" was, of course, cursed. Annoyingly cursed."

An understatement, considering the frustration in his voice, and the way his muscles clench.

"I am afraid that I actually cannot remove this bloody thing...And even if I could, at this point? You would not want to see what is under it."

He smiles slightly.

"Decaying curses are rather unpleasant, I must admit."

Ouch!

Understatement of the century. That prince is a dick.

Speaking of...

'What happened to the prince?" I ask.

The professor's attention turns towards me.

Oh, I forgot to do the hand-raising thing, didn't I?

Eh, whatever.

"I'm sorry?" he asks.

"The prince. I mean, you didn't just let him get away with it did you?" I clarify.

I can feel his focus intensify, even if he still doesn't look up properly.

"I'm afraid that my ability to retaliate was rather, limited, given the price's status," he admits, his brow furrowing. "Of course, as fortune would have it, his entire estate, palace included, was tragically consumed by Fiendfyre not long after our unfortunate interaction."

A smile crosses his features.

"Karma, I'm sure."

...

"Fiendfyre?" I ask.

"Yes. The darke-"

"Cool! Can you teach us?!" I ask enthusiastically.

This year is going to be awesome! I really underestimated this guy if he can throw around Fiendfyre and take out heads of state.

I mean, I guess he could be lying but...I don't think so. I have a good feeling about this year!

...

"You are Coeus, yes? Coeus Black?"

"Yup!"

The professor nods.

"Get Dumbledore's permission first," he says, a small smile on his face, "And I will teach you Fiendfyre."

"DEAL!" I shout, slapping my hand on the table.