Author's Notes:
I can't believe it's been a year since I've last updated...let me rectify the lack of chapters immediately. This is kinda long at 8.8k words, but I don't think anyone is even surprised anymore, are they?
This is an intermezzo because…neither Hermione nor Tom is in this chapter, and the gist and events of this chapter might be mentioned in passing in a few of the next chapters, but they're not integrated with them yet (as in, Hermione has no idea of what's going on here). But…like with the Moody chapters, some readers might be interested with this glimpse into the lives and perspectives of other people and what they get up to. In this case, it is mostly the Hogwarts teachers.
Wish me luck that I can write at least nine more chapters.
(Also, I don't even remember whose review I last read/replied to. It's been a dog's decade since I last checked this site, so apologies if I seemed to be out of touch. Character bios are on Wattpad, for those who would like a refresher).
'-
70 Intermezzo - Solstice and Rituals
Phyllida Spore has an Idea. In which the teachers are also having a little gathering during the weekend, but it's not exactly what most students would think. Two Hufflepuff assistants to Phyllida Spore are about to witness something they didn't exactly sign up for. The previously-unseen German professor. A little ritual magic. Discussions in a staff room, and some Hogwarts history.
'-
Phyllida Spore stood in front of Greenhouse 1, facing the old oak tree that stood in front of the greenhouse's doors.
Instead of her usual, colourful robes, she wore something simpler, the colour of ripe wheat, contrasting with the richer tones of her skin. Her hair had been braided and wound around her head. A crown of evergreen, with red holly berries and glossy leaves rested on her brow. On her wrists were bracelets of gold she hadn't worn in ages. She looked more like the statues of fertility goddesses of old rather than a Hogwarts professor.
The sixth-year next to her fidgeted. The Hufflepuff scarf he wore was a cheerful splash of colour over dark brown coat, his round cheeks made him look younger than what his height would imply.
"Um, Professor Spore?"
"Yes, Dear?"
"Uh, the digging me and Anja helped with today, the one the house elfs were working on…it's not for any of the Herbology classes, is it?"
She turned her head slightly towards him, her smile held a touch of mystery in them. "What do you think?"
"I think that digging—or re-digging—a trench isn't something you'd make to plant thing in them. Why do that when digging holes in particular spots are more efficient? Pretty sure this is something else, Fidelis."
A confident voice came up at Spore's other side. Spore and Fidelis Derwent turned to see the other student assistant come up, her face half-swallowed by the fur collar of her coat. Her attire looked unnecessarily thick to Fidelis, but that was probably just because it was the coat she used to wear before she moved here. It was Anja Zamoyska, one of the Polish émigrés settling herself comfortably into Hufflepuff.
"Well, I wouldn't want to presume," Fidelis murmured.
Admittedly, digging trenches without detouring several trees was also new to him; half of some trees' exposed roots seemed to be left in the trench.
"I'm sure this is so obvious as to not be just an assumption," she carried on blithely, before dark eyes glanced upwards as she took in their professor's appearance. She stopped suddenly, eyes widening.
"Uh…"
"Cat got your tongue, Anja?" Fidelis' tone was dry.
"Um, no, just…there is no way that we're going to be sacrifices, right, Professor? Date's all wrong. December's only now coming, and Solstice isn't even here yet, so there's no need to rebirth the next year…" Fidelis didn't miss how she'd slowly took a few steps back.
He frowned. "What are you talking about?"
Professor Spore only laughed, surprising them both. "Anja, Anja…did you read too much pulp novels, probably the one Annabella keeps buying in London? I think I saw titles about 'The Gevaudan Beast of Paris' on one of them, while another was, what, 'The Harvest of Death'. What was that about? Bloody fertility rituals in some obscure corner of England?"
"Umm…" her cheeks reddened and she looked down. "It was Scotland, actually."
"It's the one with the animated illustrations, isn't it? With the spurting blood and all." Professor Spore sighed. "Do tell Annabella that if too many of the younger years gets nightmares, I'm confiscating all of them. If she can't be responsible in lending them, she can get them back at the end of the year."
Anja nodded insistently. "Yes. I'll definitely tell her about it, Professor."
Fidelis snorted and shook his head.
"Pickering's a bad influence on you and you shouldn't get carried away with whatever nonsense she gets into. All those horror novels just popular balderdash. I thought you knew better than to believe any of them, Anja. Any form of human sacrifice has been punishable by death since Alfred the Great."
"If only you remember all the other names, periods and progress in History of Magic just as well," was Professor Spore's dry comment. Fidelis, rather aware of his performance (or lack thereof) in his History of Magic OWLs found his shoes more interesting to look at in that moment. He missed Anja's annoyed glare at him.
"You're not without point, though," Professor Spore was talking to Anja again.
"I'm not?" she sounded surprised.
"Harvest sacrifices were a cultural tradition that outlasted the coming of Christianity, the Normans and everything else that came afterward even among the non-magical folks. It's just that even on the magical side of things, most of them are a lot more mundane and less interesting than what a writer of pulp can come up with. It's mostly grains and other agricultural produce that's left on a little altar or some such during the harvest, the peak of which would be the festival or celebration."
"So…we're doing a harvest sacrifice?" Fidelis asked in confusion.
That odd smile had returned on her face. "Of course not my dears. After all, we're witches and wizards. That would be mere superstition."
Spore's confused assistants exchanged glances with each other.
"So…"
"So, we wait for everyone else to arrive." Spore replied.
They stood there awkwardly beside their self-assured Head of House, glancing out towards the Hogwarts castle from time to time, or squinting against the afternoon sun. Occasionally, they'd stare at the slowly-drifting snow, or for Fidelis, refresh a waning warming charm. He grudgingly admitted that maybe wearing a coat as thick as Anja's might not be such a bad idea if he was just…standing there in the cold.
"You're certain, then, that the few trees in the way of the roundabout ditch won't be a bother, Professor?" The sixth-year asked again. He was getting a little worried.
"Oh, you've both done it perfectly well, Fidelis. The trench passes exactly all the things it needs to connect."
Well, that did not seem to clarify much for him, but as long as it was alright for the purpose, it did not bother him.
At one moment, they were sure they were only staring at an open field. Yet one turn of the head, and the next time they glanced back, a figure in dark cloak unfolded themselves up to a standing position while snow dust swirled upwards a little around the cloak's hem.
It was the Ancient Runes professor, Honoria Gildenstern, always impressive in her knee-high boots and leather waistcoat. Other than catching something small in her hand and pocketing it, she made her way to them without further ado. Spore stepped up and greeted her easily.
"Honoria! Glad to see that you can make it."
A nod. "Phyllida. Of course I can make it—I'm too curious not to."
"I thought Hogwarts has anti-apparation wards erected around the place?" Anja asked in a low voice.
Fidelis could only nod at that. "Yes! I have no idea how she manages that."
"If apparition is the only thing that crosses your mind, then you're not creative enough." Professor Gildenstern suddenly replied to them, sharp eyes boring into them in turn.
Fidelis froze while Anja had ducked before she realised what she was doing, chagrined at being caught out in their conversation. The Professor of Ancient Runes simply shook her head in dismissal.
"Who else is coming?" Gildenstern asked.
"Practically everyone else."
"That's interesting. I thought it would be a little too…you know, wishy-washy for some of them. Or too…what's the word, old."
It was clear that Gildenstern had stronger words to say, but was going around them since there were students near them.
"That would be hypocritical of me, especially when the portents generated by astronomy is often too vague for most people." Orpheus Dexter joined the conversation as deftly as a landing starling, the illusion made even stronger by the occasional shimmer of his night-coloured coat and the specks of stars on them.
Spore's two assistants yelped in surprise, but neither of the other professors reacted. The blond wizard stared at them oddly for just a moment.
"You were checking out shortcuts, Orpheus?" Gildenstern asked.
"I was, yes. Hogwarts just has so very many of them that I'm not sure anyone has ever mapped them out."
"But you just…appeared out of nowhere, Professor!" Anja protested.
Dexter merely looked amused and wagged his finger. "Ah, but a magician does not reveal his tricks."
"Really, it's not that hard to figure out," Gildenstern opined. "Just consider it an exercise, you two."
Fidelis manfully restrained a whimper at the thought of homework. Just as he thought that, a sudden fire grew on the snow. As it grew larger, its heart blazed brighter, from orange, to yellow and finally white. Then, Albus Dumbledore appeared in the middle, untouched and unharmed and stepped out as if he walked out of inexplicable fires every day. The flame receded from his feet first, and continued to roll itself up. When all that was left was the flickers on his head, it seemed to solidify. It gained wings, tails and a head. A bird of flame sat contentedly on Dumbledore's head.
"Afternoon all," Dumbledore greeted.
"That's…a phoenix." Fidelis couldn't disguise the awe in his voice.
Dexter rolled his eyes. "Yes, what a fantastic arrival, because I'm sure a phoenix familiar is very common. You just have to ruin all our entrances, don't you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Dumbledore replied with a distinct glimmer in his eyes. "Besides, it would have hardly worked if Fawkes didn't Nest here. Now that he's been here for more than a decade, well…"
"Is this also a trick?" Anja asked, scrutinising Fawkes minutely. "Maybe, the flames are illusionary?"
Spore shook her head. "I'm afraid not, Dear. That's just one of the rare abilities of a phoenix."
"Yes, no tricks in this case, unfortunately," Gildenstern actually sound disgruntled as she said that.
"I thought you might not be interested," Spore said this to Dumbledore. "Too old-fashioned, perhaps, and very imprecise for a Master Alchemist of your calibre."
The Transfiguration Professor smiled back, as bright as his gleaming auburn hair.
"That would be too limiting of me. It's not often that I see a ritual working on this scale, isn't it? I did write that treatise on the twelve uses of dragon blood. Most people think they're for potions, but well, you know…"
"The oldest use of blood has always been for rituals. And wards." Gildenstern finished.
"Precisely, Honoria."
They could all feel the vibrations on the ground when the hippogriff landed. Claws the size of sickles sunk into the snow. It was huge—when standing, its shoulders were at the height of Dumbledore's hat. Fidelis and Anja raised their hands when it shook its shook its dark wings, showering them with bits of snow and frost. Kettleburn slid off the creature with unexpected grace.
He patted its withers fondly
"Thanks for the ride, old boy."
There was something between a heavy purr and a chirrup before the hippogriff took off again. Then, two figures, Silvanus Kettleburn and Galatea Merrythought greeted the other teachers. Dexter was laughing by now as he shook Silvanus' hand about how his entrance had Albus all beat. Dumbledore himself simply nodded magnanimously, while the grey-haired Kettleburn had yet to figure out what they were all talking on about.
"She wasn't…on the hippogriff, right?" Fidelis asked in low tones. Anja shook her head slowly.
"No. Not at all."
"…right."
Neither of them had figured out how any of the other teachers arrived (apart from Dumbledore's obvious arrival), and this was just one more mystery on top of everything else. The fashionable Arithmancy Mistress and teacher that had escorted the Beauxbatons transfers here, Adele Lagrange came out of Greenhouse 1. Her entrance was so normal that the two student assistants breathed a sigh in relief. They can figure out this one easily! She simply floo-travelled to the chimney there. It was rarely lit, but they were both certain that Professor Spore had left the chimney on this time.
"Where's Horace?" Dexter asked.
"Oh, he'd volunteered to be the one to bring the cow, so my guess is that he'd either return here from Hogsmeade by floo or he'd be enthusiastic enough to go along the cart ride here." Spore explained.
"…he would, wouldn't he?" Dexter muttered with a defeated sigh.
"Filius went with him. No need to worry about anyone ripping him off if he needed to buy or rent anything, so that's another concern covered."
"A…cow." Anja said, uncertain.
Honoria Gildenstern looked faintly amused for some reason. "Yes, a cow."
"You do know that some of the farm lands around Hogsmeade belong to Hogwarts, right?" Dexter asked Anja.
"Uh, no?"
"I have no idea either, Professor," Fidelis answered, bravely taking some of the attention from his fellow housemate. Anja certainly sent him a grateful look.
"I suppose it's not something we regularly tell the students," Spore thought out loud, "it's not surprising if they're unaware."
"I'm pretty sure Selwyn would know, though." Dexter mused.
"Which one?"
"Any of them, even the more frivolous ones."
"Yes, but that's because their family also own some farms near the family home, it's not really a surprise that they'd know, Orpheus." Gildenstern pointed out.
"Ah, touché."
It was with this easy ebb-and-flow of conversation that the crowd of teachers started moving without anyone directing them. It was natural, by implicit agreement, and the two Herbology assistants found themselves drifting along in half-confusion. As they crossed the open Hogwarts grounds and approaching the Forbidden Forest, Phyllida Spore seemed to realise that they were still tagging along.
"You can both leave if you want. You've done great work already with all the digging and overseeing, thank you."
"You're welcome, Professor."
"Yes, it's no trouble at all."
Fidelis would've just picked his feet up and leave right then, but he saw Anja hesitate. If there was one instinct that was trained and practised deeper in Hufflepuff than in other houses, it was that sense for the other people you were with, for your Housemates, and sticking together. It didn't even matter if Anja was a year below him.
"I'll stay if you're staying."
"Thanks, Fidelis."
She turned back to Professor Spore at that point. "If you don't mind…I'd like to watch, Professor."
"Alright, then. Just stay calm and keep out of the way of the procession and movements. You can ask questions later."
"And nobody's going to get killed," Fidelis couldn't help the wry comment.
Spore chuckled. "Yes, and nobody's going to get killed. No promises on it being tame, though. This is an old ritual."
"I think I see, Professor," Anja replied.
The annoyed huff that came with a light punch to his upper arm after that was easy to ignore.
'-
They hadn't been afraid to go into the Forbidden Forest earlier. Walking in with an army of house elfs would give anyone an inflated sense of security. Now, with the teachers' footsteps unexpectedly soft for a crowd their size, they can feel that background tension of the Forest pick-up again. It was especially true once the light of day dimmed, filtered through the layers of cloud and surprisingly dense branches and evergreen above them.
It wasn't much of a feeling, mostly a prickle on the back of their neck or a slight shiver over their arm. Just enough to let them know that there was something…more in this forest than in many others.
"At least we don't have to deal with the snow here," Fidelis murmured. Anja nodded her agreement enthusiastically.
"Oh, yes, I agree with that. Even with spells, digging over the open areas are a bit more annoying."
It was to neither of their surprise that the professors followed the ditch that they dug (mostly by overseeing Hogwarts house elfs), or re-dug, from the way it seems like they were just following an older earthen work. There was a smaller hill in the Forbidden Forest that they'd gone up and across earlier, and it seemed that this natural landmark was where they were heading.
Halfway there, they could hear expressions of 'careful, careful!' that was close approaching, and they saw a…flying cart? With no horse? Professor Slughorn indeed sat at the front, next to Professor Flitwick, waved to his fellow teachers, and then moved on ahead. There seemed to be a cow in the large cart (among other things), who was unexpectedly calm for cattle that was having adventures.
When they reached the top of the hill, the cow had gone down from the cart. There were gigantic barrels that they were sure wasn't there before, and Slughorn was opening one of the regular barrels he had moved down from the cart and pouring it into the gigantic barrels. Another wizard was casting some form of the Geminio charm into a different huge barrel while standing on top of some stairs.
"Ah, Gilbert, need any help?" Dumbledore asked.
"Well, I'm temporarily multiplying the wine volume, Horace is handling the beer, we have to do the same for the rum and whisky." He replied.
The other teachers seemed to have a good idea of what that meant, and either approached the remaining giant barrels, or to take one of the smaller ones towards them.
"That's Gilbert von Eckhart."
Adele Lagrange stood not far from them, at ease to simply stand while most had started moving. Her coat was a darker shade of her peach-coloured dress, and was just as perfectly matched to her hat.
"Who? Ah, is he one of the teachers that came with the German group?" Anja had cottoned on to things faster than Fidelis.
"Yes," she nodded. "You can ask any questions to me and I'll answer the best I can. I've done the calculations for this earlier, so my little contribution is mostly done."
"We don't even know what to ask." Fidelis said with a sigh.
"Well, what's all the drinks for? Are we having a revel?" Anja lowered her voice as she asked the last part. Fidelis didn't even have the time to feel embarrassed as Professor Lagrange chuckled, the sound rich and melodic.
"I thought you'd know your astronomy? This is completely the wrong time for that, you know?"
Anja shrugged carelessly. "I know. I just couldn't think of why else all the drinks would be gathered here."
"And multiplied, at that," Fidelis added, watching the rest of the teachers coordinate smoothly.
"Unless you're all broke, but there's a good number of you trying to get drunk at once. In that case, multiplying the amount of vodka available is a good idea," Anja commented.
"Anja!" Fidelis hoped they didn't sound as if they accused the teachers of anything. She was completely not worried.
"It's just what my brothers would do," she said with a roll of her eyes. "Anyway, Professor Lagrange knows I'm not saying anything about them—we've already established that this is not a revel, Fidelis. Please, do keep up."
The corner of Professor Lagrange's smile twitched as she watched them.
"What has Professor Spore told you?"
"Well, she'd said something about the old tradition of harvest sacrifice…but she also said this isn't that." Fidelis said with some confusion.
"Ah. She's right, actually."
To their mutual bafflement, Professor Lagrange asked them what felt like an unrelated question.
"Do you know what Professor Eckhart teaches?"
"No?" Anja answered.
"Why, if I can gain a teaching post in Hogwarts, did he not end up with one?" She posed another one, fuchsia-coloured nails tapping her chin.
"Perhaps because the subject he teaches is one that's already filled? And the teacher wasn't looking to retire anytime soon?" Fidelis hazarded a guess.
"That's a good answer, and one that's very probable" Professor Lagrange said. "It just happens to be wrong in this instance."
Anja's forehead creased. "Then…"
"Opferrituale und Blutmagie."
Fidelis had to think harder since his German sucked, but Anja had paled.
"I thought there wouldn't be any human sacrifices!"
"There wouldn't be," Professor Lagrange answered calmly. "All that's collected is the gains of a harvest, see? It's just easier to pour when in liquid form than grain form, hence all the drinks made from fermented grains."
"But rum?"
"Planting sugar in England, in a limited scale, is not that hard with magic at hand."
Fidelis furrowed his brows as his mind started to go through the possibilities. He'd checked the syllabus for Advanced Herbology, and he was certain they'd cover parts of this later in the year.
"Huh. Oh, right, a heat-trapping ward could be combined with the ward version of a Sunshine spell. I don't think it's easy to set one that shines for twelve hours a day this far north, though, not during this time of the year. I suppose if you set it for a more limited time, simply to supplement natural sunlight…"
Anja cleared her throat, before he was lost in even further Herbology mutterings. Professor Lagrange merely seemed amused, and of course, that brought him to a more…concerning question.
"What's the English translation of Professor Eckhart's class, if you don't mind me asking?"
Even as he asked this, there was a slight waver to Fidelis' voice, as if he'd already gleaned part of the meaning even with his imperfect comprehension of German.
The professor answered with the same pleasant expression she had before.
"Oh, it's Sacrificial Rituals and Blood Magic."
The contrast with her sentence was as much as that of her fashionable city attire and the wild northern forest. A passing gust blew unusually hard for a moment, and the two students shivered.
'-
"Are we…trying to contact some gods or something?"
Fidelis spoke once more after they were mute for a while. The wind soughed through the occasional evergreen leaves and dry, bare branches, and just listening to it made him felt colder. It had crossed his mind more than once to wonder, here, how there are still drifts of snow falling on the forest floor.
"Oh, don't bring the old gods into this," Anja muttered, hugging herself. "My Babcia tells me it never ends well."
"I have no interest in gods when we are speaking in the practicalities of magic." Professor Lagrange's reply was firm.
"Oh, not at all? But I thought…" Fidelis trailed away.
"What, that since the foundation of this is a harvest ritual, some gods would be involved?"
"Something like that. I'm just not very familiar with any of this, Professor."
Adele Lagrange smiled, as red as rose and also with hidden thorns.
"Does anyone know if they ever did exist or can reciprocate? What I know is that unlike what old myths and legends say, we can't sacrifice things to them and pray for this or that outcome. It's not a magical mechanism that works in the modern day."
"Ah. So, all this…"
"Is a ritual, yes, but the basic idea is to return what the grounds of Hogwarts-and-Hogsmeade has given, the produce of the land. With this, a linked cycle is created between Hogwarts and its people. This contribution, this sacrifice, will power an additional layer to the ward to protect those within Hogwarts."
Anja seems to relax a little. "Ah, a ward layer."
"That's a…slight simplification. It's not precisely the same, but I suppose the term would do for now. This is why 'Ria—Professor Gildenstern—is currently not among the crowd. She's probably rechecking all your work to make sure that none of the older glyphs have been worn away. If there are any like that, she'll re-carve them where they are. Perhaps she'll make her own additions as well."
"I don't think the erection of most modern wards require…a sacrifice." Fidelis commented.
"That's the key word, isn't it? Modern. The older ways are rooted more in ritual magic—and I'm sure the basics of many ancestral wards are too. It's far more powerful than what a practitioner can create on their own, or even in a small group. It connects us directly to the ley lines. Of course, I'm not well-versed in the details of that, you'll 'ave to ask Professor Gildenstern with your questions."
As Fidelis tried to digest that, unsure of where to even start asking anything, the hurried footsteps and cracking branches not far from them caught their attention.
His first thought was of Professor Gildenstern, even if the thought of a professor would be running harum-scarum through the underbrush struck him as near impossible and too bizarre. Then the figure dashed through the last turn and Fidelis could see him much better. A wizard his age in a respectable brown coat; if he'd walked quieter, he'd actually be harder to notice in the shade.
"I'm sorry I'm late!" The other wizard said.
"You are?" Anja asked curiously. She had a point; neither of them expected any other student here.
As the newest arrival took his hat off and shook the snow off it, his pale blond hair was obvious. As his face was completely uncovered now, Fidelis had no trouble recognising him—they were both in Advanced Defence, after all. He was simply one of the many Slytherins that congregate around Hermione.
"I didn't think you had any plans in the Forbidden Forest today, Pendleton."
Pendleton took a deep breath to steady himself. "Professor Lagrange, Derwent, Zamoyska. Good afternoon to all."
They greeted him in return easily.
"To answer your curiosity, no, I didn't have any plans to go here," Pendleton didn't mention about his other plans this Sunday—him being rather nicely dressed couldn't have been a coincidence. Fidelis didn't ask further about it since he was still polite.
"I was just strolling on the castle grounds when I came across Professor Gildenstern. Then she mentioned about how every teacher was helping with this immense creation of an additional protective ward layer for Hogwarts denizens and that I better run if I want to make it."
"So, 'ere you are," Professor Lagrange finished.
Fidelis has never seen Pendleton that animated before. His tone might still seem measured, but there was the way he was holding himself back, all coiled tension.
"Did you really run all the way here?" He asked.
"I certainly did. A ward-working at this scale…" Pendleton actually whistled at that. "And using one of the older methods at that—a ritual! Do you have any idea how rarely it happens? How privileged we are to see this?"
Fidelis shook his head slowly. He was mostly here as an Advanced Herbology assistant, wards were completely beyond him.
"Why do they have the cow, though?" Anja asked, out of the blue.
He could see Professor Lagrange biting her lower lip, and somehow, he and Pendleton exchanged an awkward look that he could understand very well. How she'd missed it, he couldn't fathom—or perhaps she was in a bit of denial due to all those unpleasant novels she read…
Their glances spoke of more-or-less the same thing.
Are you going to be the one to tell her, or shall I?
"Well?" Anja asked again.
Lucky for both of them, Professor Lagrange spoke up again, and they were spared of that unenjoyable task.
"Well, Zamoyska—it's Zamoyska, isn't it? It's like this…"
'-
The poor cow was of course not going to see tomorrow. Even if Master Eckhart was the one to cut her jugular, Professor Dumbledore was the one who held her face and looked her in the eyes.
This was a benefit of having a legilimens among them; he stepped in and tried to find a pleasant memory to pull forth (this was all explained by Professor Lagrange to them). Once he managed to hypnotise the cow, he stepped back out of her limited thoughts and gave the signal to Eckhart, who had a silver knife in his hand. This way, the cow did not feel a thing as her lifeblood drained out from her and into the channel that both Fidelis and Anja knew surrounded the entire Hogwarts, as they'd gone around to see most of it.
The other teachers tipped the gigantic vat of various drinks into the channel at the same time, while Eckhart was casting something that none of the students could catch. Professor Spore was the one who read the really, really long chant that they surmised to be the harvest-ritual-related thing.
Once Professor Spore was done chanting, Pendleton finally stopped staring and tried to catch up on what he'd missed before. He ended up asking about the alcoholic drinks too, at one point, and why they're massively multiplied in volume.
"Ah, I almost forgot to explain zat. It is to get enough liquid to circle Hogwarts." Professor Lagrange clarified.
"To fill the entire ditch?" Fidelis asked.
"Yes," she nodded. "It doesn't quite matter 'ow much material is in every centimetre of it, just that there are always some. Multiplying the liquid that way and then mixing it ensures that even after the doubled volume faded again, the real amount 'as been distributed evenly."
"To ensure that a full circle is created and closed." Pendleton added. "Otherwise, the ward would fail."
"And we don't wish that." Professor Lagrange added.
"Yes, we don't want that at all."
Anja observed Pendleton for a bit. "You're in the wards-class, aren't you?"
He nodded. "Advanced Ancient Runes? Yes."
"Well, that does explain things." Fidelis said.
'-
Wrapping up the entire ritual was a lot faster than preparing for it. The students had already been escorted back to Hogwarts. Spore took the responsibility for her students while Gildenstern accompanied her young ward-fanatic, answering his rapid questions no less quickly or accurately even as they walk. The professors decided to meet up again in the evening in the lounge—the Hogwarts' staff room.
Horace Slughorn was there first, setting up coffee at least two types of tea for everybody. Silvanus Kettleburn had just arrived. He murmured a gruff thanks to the Potions Master after getting his cup of coffee, and Horace beamed back at him.
Honoria arrived right behind Phyllida and clearly seeing Kettleburn interact with Slughorn and then going off to his ratty armchair in the corner. It was appropriate for them both to arrive early since the bulk of the ritual were on their shoulders. No one knows when Dexter arrived in the lounge, but he was clearly already there in the chaise lounge he usually claimed, fast asleep with a newspaper over his face.
The Ravenclaw Head's arrangement was probably the same as always—he'd want someone to try to wake him up if anything's starting up. Otherwise, he'd rather stick to his half-nocturnal sleeping hours.
Phyllida asked Horace about the various tea he was brewing, and she chose the lapsang souchong one. Honoria would like to be in the mood for the white tea, but her stress-induced headaches usually eased up easier with black tea, so Earl Grey it is then.
"It's been an interesting experience, Phyllida, Honoria. Thank you for telling me."
"You're welcome, Horace," was Phyllida's warm reply. Honoria was too spent that she just nodded and mumbled something similar.
"Thanks for the help, Silvanus," Honoria remembered that much, at least.
"Pffft, don't mention it. I always get an excess of blood and guts of one kind or another. Wasn't hard." He did end up pouring an extra something while the rest was pouring all sorts of doubled-up drinks.
It was Albus who came in afterwards. Unexpectedly, he was talking with Gilbert as they stepped in turns through the door.
"Really, I've underestimated Hogwarts since your curriculum was incomplete!" Gilbert exclaimed. Honoria had to admit that he wasn't bad looking at all even if his floppy curls made him look a tad harmless and young…if only he wasn't so insistent on wearing a bowtie. And tweed. Seriously, why tweed?
Albus paused for a moment. "You have to remember that our curriculum has moved forward from older rituals for far longer. It's scarcely needed in daily life anyway; what problem that the Atlantean-Based magic can't solve?"
The German professor faltered for a moment. Albus made a very good point.
"Well…it's always good to be prepared for emergencies. Perhaps not as a required class, but surely, it's possible as an optional one?"
There was a louder snort from Silvanus who was already pouring himself another cup of coffee before he handed the pot over to the recently-arriving Filius Flitwick. The Charms Professor murmured his thanks as he hopped up to his seat without any problem.
"Right. And how would you do that o'er the Ministry's paranoia?" Silvanus asked.
"Eh?"
Albus took one of the seats close to the fireplace, just a stone's throw from Dexter's chaise lounge. Gilbert sat down not far from him. Albus had started nudging Orpheus' ankle. The door opened once more but Honoria was no longer paying attention to the comings and goings.
"Just in case you weren't up to date with our recent history, Gilbert, we do tend to have…more ambitious dark lords and ladies in the last couple of centuries," Phyllida calmly explained. "The Ministry of Magic thus has the tendency to choose being safe over being sorry when it comes to magical regulations here. More things are deemed off-limits or highly restricted."
"Prudence in practice over flexibility of principle." Honoria contributed as she sipped her tea.
"Such stiffness! Such unbending bureaucracy! And I bet they still retained the ability to do such things themselves, hmm?" The final note was cynical.
"They'd have to have the expertise to control it." Filius chimed in. "To have the expertise, they have to be a practitioner. 'Tis unavoidable."
"I distrust such monopoly of might, frankly. When people collect might, they do not simply stop."
For a man who looked like a mild-mannered bookworm, Gilbert's tone was unyielding as he said this. The steel in his eyes spoke of a man willing to stand by his words and fight…and considering what was currently happening in the continent, Honoria's respect of him rose a little.
She wasn't one to give respect to most authority either.
"Well, it's not like there aren't professionals who can still do what you do, you know. We aren't near extinct or anything" Honoria felt compelled to make some sort of explanation, even if she still did not want to defend the Ministry. "They just…have to use a different phrasing."
"Hide in plain sight?" Gilbert's tone was dry when he asked back.
The Ravenclaw Head of House had woken up far enough at this point, though he was obviously asking Albus about what he'd missed.
"No, because the Ministry is aware and do know what some things require. It's just that there are rules on how some things are written and advertised. It's easier to deal with the Unspeakables than the bureaucrats, frankly."
"Yet that is still a form of camouflage," he pointed out.
"It is what it is," Albus commented.
"Cute, Albus, very cute, but doesn't explain or help anything." Galatea replied.
Honoria pinched the bridge of her nose even as she pulled the end of her braid to relocate it somewhere else before Phyllida ended up sitting on it (how Albus managed to sit with his hair completely down without getting it tangled, sat on, or dipping into his tea, she had no idea).
"You're not wrong," she finally said.
"It does not stop the skilled from providing their assistance to those who needed them," Filius came to her assistance.
"Yes, thank you, Filius."
"But I can't see help reaching everyone, especially if such a degree of confounding by the government was involved. Some are probably just…lost." That was Gilbert yet again.
"As interesting as yet another bellyaching session against the Ministry might be," Phyllida helpfully stepped in, "there was another reason that I thought a little tête-a-tête would be useful. Are there any questions as to why I chose to do this?"
"It's not exactly solstice, but it's the advent of the month with the longest day of the year. Still a very good timing for a ritual of protection for next year." Orpheus replied, though it was punctuated by two yawns.
"That's not exactly what Phyllida was asking," Honoria said, amused.
"Oh, sorry, then, I'm probably not that focused yet. Anyone else?"
"Well, it's a nice get-together for us professors. We don't exactly have many opportunities for a picnic this season," Horace commented.
Adele was politely covering her lips with a handkerchief (when did she get in?) but even with that, the uplifted corners of her lips were visible.
"It's an interesting ritual in its own right," Albus took pity on Phyllida's careful intake of breath. "I didn't think that you had something that complete in your hands, in Old English no less."
"Honoria helped a lot with that," Phyllida replied gracefully.
"It's a little different from what we pulled off a decade ago, wasn't it?" He asked back.
That pulled the attention of many newcomers. Galatea certainly wasn't here a decade ago, the globetrotting duellist that she is, and now there was a sharp interest in her eyes. As for Silvanus, there was also a time when he left Hogwarts during the previous War and he didn't return immediately, recuperating and getting used to his new metallic arm and leg—it might even fit with the time frame that Albus mentioned. Filius was only teaching this year.
Honoria hadn't been teaching here around a decade ago either, but she already heard the basics from Phyllida as she helped set it up, so she already knew.
"It was a little less than that," Phyllida corrected, "but yes, just about. Eight years or so, not quite nine."
"Oh, you pulled off a similar ritual before? Why don't I know this?"
"It was smaller than what we did, and there was only four of us, anyway," Albus mentioned. "The other two were the Ancient Runes teacher of the time, Hannelore, and your previous replacement."
He nodded to Silvanus.
"Ah, Clement, was it? Good man." Kettleburn nodded back.
Phyllida and Albus were both considerate enough not to mention that Horace Slughorn had been the new Potions Master then, and they were uncertain just how sensitive he would be for certain magical subjects. It was why they made the decision not to include him back then, among other teachers, even if his expertise was vaguely relevant.
"That was an experiment of sorts, to see how effective these old-type rituals were."
"We still have papers to write, you know," Phyllida commented.
"Experiments to run, yes," Albus nodded with the same put-upon sigh, "on top of teaching in Hogwarts."
Similar grimaces or expressions of chagrin went around their circle. They knew the pressures of being a teacher in one of Europe's premier magical schools or studying circles indeed. Class assistants (to help grade and/or prepare classes) and research assistants taken in from among the older students and recent graduates only helped so far.
"So, we thought of trying this ritual out. Besides, it had a protective purpose, it certainly wouldn't do any harm." Phyllida continued.
"Ah, yes, that had been one of the things that crossed my mind." Gilbert spoke up, his loose curls moving with even the slightest tilt on his head. Honoria actually closed her right hand into a fist before she was tempted to shove some of his curls back.
"A ritual's always interesting to watch, but it's effects are usually too vague or too broad, no? That's the problem with any of these old magic things. Our intent doesn't always get translated very well, and the magic might lock into something completely different."
Phyllida and Albus had the same knowing smile then.
"Well…" Albus started.
"It worked actually," Phyllida said.
"In a manner of speaking."
They met each other's gaze and fell into chuckles.
"Oh, come on! don't let us hang in this tension! What happened?" Silvanus grumbled.
"I actually searched for your publications around those years," Honoria spoke up again, "Asked Arachne to look things up. There were no papers with any sort of title related to that."
"Well, we still had the paper, or draft of one, anyway," Phyllida said. "It's just that we never published it."
"We'd like to, but none of us wanted to open a blood feud with anyone else or somehow trigger that."
"What on earth happened, Albus?" Galatea asked.
Orpheus was the one tapping his fingers against his head, his expressions scrunched up.
"Wait, wait, I might have an inkling. Does this have anything to do with the news of that year? What time of the year was it? I think it wasn't anywhere close to Solstice. I remembered you asking some related question, Phyllida, and I gave the recommendation for…ah, Beltane, wasn't it?"
For all his half-awake expression, Orpheus easily ran back through his memory.
"Let's see, you came not long after I had to listen to Eoghan vent about something in the Dáil. I had not the slightest idea about how Ireland was even governed, so I nodded my way through that. There was also something about lotteries and Ireland and how the English government were screwing them up again…and this was the year before the Games were in London. So, that'd be 1934, February or March."
"Yes, that's it," Albus agreed with him easily.
Honoria could see when Orpheus' thoughtful look was replaced by a sharper one, as his eyes focused. Filius was following well enough, because he knew who Eoghan Finbarr was—the Charms Professor before him. They had a chatted and interacted often enough as he gave Filius an overview before taking his class over.
"Less than a year after that, eh?"
"…was it something in the society pages? I felt as if that's close…" he murmured.
"Ah, autumn, wasn't it? I saw that scandal!" Galatea remarked as she clapped her hands in realisation. "How did you even get involved?"
"Oh, we weren't involved," Albus insisted, thought there was a hint of a grin on his face.
"Yes, we were both busy teaching. New academic year, new students, you know? We had no idea what they were planning." Phyllida added just as easily. If she had a fan open in her hands that she was toying with, she could not have been even more coy.
"Wait, what scandal?" Filius asked, and the white-haired witch turned to him. It was Galatea who enlightened everyone else.
"Elopement. Cedrella Black married Septimus Weasley that year. It was in several society pages."
"I had no idea they were planning it—I didn't even know that they were close." Phyllida said again.
"Neither did I. It's not as if the boy mentioned her during his Hogwarts days, you know?"
Gilbert was holding his head at this point, and Honoria found herself grinning a little at that. She poured him more coffee in sympathy.
"Please, stop. Just…how was all this even connected?"
"Cedrella was Horace's research assistant that year—she was on Hogwarts at least half the time. It was highly unusual for a witch of her background to be that diligent on a career, and a few years outside Hogwarts already. But I suppose even then we can see that she was avoiding going home as much as she can. Now, we know that she was trying to find her own footing outside." Phyllida began.
"Septimus Weasley was teaching flying classes, wasn't he? Giving feedback to some of the quidditch teams too." Orpheus spoke up again. "I remember that. He and Eoghan got along with each other like a house on fire."
"Finbarr probably considered the Weasleys honorary Irish or something. Knew a few others from his family, they're stand-up lads." Silvanus commented.
"As you can see, they're both denizens of Hogwarts at that time. Our little protective ritual worked to protect all Hogwarts citizens. You can see where I'm going with this soon. At some point, Cedrella expressed to her parents that she wanted to marry Septimus and that she didn't want them to try matchmaking her with other pureblood wizards. Obviously, this didn't go down well."
That was punctuated by Silvanus' sarcastic chuckle.
"I checked with her later on," Horace was the one who spoke up. "I had to make sure she was alright, you know? Met them when they were honeymooning in Sicily. Her family locked her up in her room. Even if she had a wand with her, it wouldn't have been up to par against the ancient wards of any of the old Black family homes. So, she had her wand with her, but it was of no use."
"Or so she thought," Albus added.
"Or so she thought," Horace nodded in agreement. "Cedrella didn't give up; she read the books she had. She couldn't use brute force, but she thought that maybe she could use guile. So, she started making Polyjuice potion with her sister's hair."
Filius sharp inhale could be heard.
"Ooohh."
"If it was an old ward, that wouldn't have worked so easily," Gilbert pointed out, a frown on his face.
"Ah, patience, my friend, the story hasn't reached there yet." Albus replied, before nodding back to Horace.
"Yes, well, the Polyjuice did allow her to get out of her room, that was one. She wasn't going to try any of the doors or windows, but she was going to try the floo network to one of the other family homes. Even if she failed, it wouldn't be as spectacular and as painful as if she tried escaping directly. If she managed, it would be easier to leave a residence whose wards were not specifically set to keep her in."
"That's clever, actually. Yes, she took pretty much the mildest way of testing the wards," Honoria spoke up again.
Horace brightened. "Yes, she's brilliant, isn't she?"
"What happened? She escaped?" Silvanus asked over his coffee.
From the way he tapped his wand over it, it was clear that it had even cooled down somewhat and he was reheating it.
"It worked. Cedrella was surprised that it worked, felt the wards hold her back for one last time before it simply felt as if it snapped apart. She did feel that the Polyjuice potion she made was stronger than she expected. Why, it held up for a whole day!" Horace was beaming ear-to-ear as he retold this.
Gilbert was open-mouthed. "That's…."
"Unheard of for an old family ward, isn't it?" Honoria voiced some of her thoughts for him.
She grinned at him when he turned towards her. She'd been just as flabbergasted when she first heard it, and she knew how he felt considering their specialties covered many similar areas. "Especially for a home still regularly occupied, usually maintained."
"Yes." Gilbert agreed.
"Well, that was the end of her side of the story, mostly." Horace finished.
"But that wasn't where everything ended." Albus said, picking up the storyteller's torch from Horace.
"What?" It was Adele's voice.
"All four of us felt it, you know," Phyllida said, still resplendent in the dress she wore for the ritual, the crown of evergreen on her hair. She practically glowed with vigour. "We felt it when that newest, slightest layer of protection snapped."
"It was a light wash of magic over your sense, a passing tingle and the feeling that some power just left. We got together as soon as we could to talk about it. Hannelore, Clement, and the two of us." Albus said.
"I felt it more like a loss of warmth. You know that feeling when you walk out of a greenhouse and suddenly the fragrances of flower and leaf disappear as you depart? That too. Hannelore and Clement had different impressions too, but I suppose it depended on what kind of magic that you were more attuned to."
"We ended up trying to figure out what did not happen, and find out what happened by elimination." Albus poured more tea for himself.
Phyllida groaned at the thought. "Oh, we were up at least half the night, weren't we?"
"It couldn't be an intrusion, that would've rung the main wards, not merely snapped the last one. It wasn't theft of anything minor, that one's not tied or protected to any wards—besides, the students annoy each other too much and grab each other's belongings so easily that it would've tripped too often even early on during Hogwarts initial founding—no ancient ward would monitor that."
"It couldn't be mere creature accidentally activating it—we knew of no wild animal attacks, Clement easily ruled that out."
Albus ticked off what they'd checked back then on his fingers.
"Then we gave up and just went to sleep." Phyllida finished. "Because we all had morning class."
"Yes. It was in the morning when Hannelore whooped with joy when she saw the newspaper and passed it to all of us. We had an answer. There was a small announcement that the Weasley-Black nuptials were done—not even an invitation, just a statement that it was over and done with, registered and finished. There was also the fact that it said they were currently in…where was it? Malta?"
"Majorca," Phyllida supplied.
"Ah, yes, Majorca. There had been no wedding preparations, no engagements that we'd have heard or been invited to them if there were any, so we know how hurried it was." Albus finished.
As he drank his tea, Phyllida continued the story.
"Then I floo-called her and asked her whether the time that she left her house was five in the afternoon. She was surprised that I knew—and wary. I didn't blame her for that, considering what I'd guessed of her family then. Yet I did end up telling her about the whole ritual we did months before."
"So, we do know that it worked." Adele concluded with a slight smile.
"Yes." Phyllida agreed, just as pleased now as she was then.
"But we can't really publish it anytime soon before we have the third branch of the Black family bearing down on us." Albus answered. "Frankly, I'll wait for another decade for them to cool down before publishing it."
"That's fascinating. Would you mind if I look at some of your notes and…" Gilbert had a bright gleam in his eyes now.
"Oh, not at all! It's probably just the results, the timing and the ingredients I'm afraid. We're keeping the precise ritual just to ourselves until we published it." Albus said. His expression was apologetic, but for all his generosity, it was still a line that he'd drawn.
Honoria wasn't the slightest bit surprised at that. She would've been as cautious—it's not as if the academic competition was any less cutthroat in the wizarding world. Gilbert didn't seem to mind; he had been a professor for a while too, to know that some precautions are just common sense.
"That would be interesting enough even then." Gilbert said.
"But it does highlight while rituals aren't that big anymore. It's complicated, requires certain dates and preparation…and we don't always know the farthest extent of that protection beforehand." Phyllida said.
"Yet you choose to do it now, and asked for our help" Filius noted.
"Yet I found a suitable, larger working, and I did another one." The Herbology Professor confirmed.
"So…why now?"
The white-haired Duelling Mistress turned to Phyllida at this point.
"Oh, I know. That was why you were asking about my experiences from the previous Great War, isn't it? And asked if you could talk to Silvanus about it?"
"Ah. I see." Silvanus murmured.
The steady clink of his metal fingers could be heard tapping on the table, as he drummed on the table.
"What is it?" Filius asked. Galatea thought back over her recent encounters with Hermione—Honoria could see it, because she found herself replaying her own interactions with the transfer student too.
"Whether we liked it or not, our students are beginning to get entangled in the current Great War too. They might not fight in it, or live in France, yet there is no telling how far their involvement will go…."
"Who knows if this protection would break down for yet another elopement, before it could be of any use to other students in more critical situations? Yet to at least have it at hand, alight and ready, is far better than to do nothing." Albus said with a dogged sort of optimism.
"Wait, our students are doing what?"
Adele's voice rose in surprise and worry. Honoria me the other witch's concerned gaze and can only shake her head. "That's a long, long story."
"Well, this is Sunday, and we have time." She insisted.
"I'm not sure I know much about this," Albus mused, tapping his chin. "I do know they're not foolish enough to try fighting. Still…they're still getting too close to my liking. I do realise that we can't hold them back much, though, if at all."
"I do know more of what they do," Orpheus said, "and Galatea even more so."
The Transfigurations Professor nodded in acknowledgement.
"Indeed. I'll leave the explanations to you both, then."
And as the Astronomy Professor and Duelling Mistress moved to a more convenient placement, the Hogwarts professors were about to be ensconced even longer in the staff lounge. It was with this realisation that Phyllida stood up, and called for the house elf. At the very least, they would need some sandwiches to tide them over as dinner would still be a while.
If many of the teachers were later surprised by the audacity or even breadth of their students' plan, this was not going to be the last time they'll experience that during the school year.
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End Notes:
Additional Notes:
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore: Current Professor of Transfiguration as well as the Head of House Gryffindor. Albus is a wizard of indeterminate middle-age, known as a Master Transfigurator, an excellent duellist and even more well-known for having studied to become a Master Alchemist under Nicholas Flamel and for writing the treatise on the twelve uses of dragon blood. Dumbledore usually lets his long auburn hair fall loose all the way to the waist. How he keeps it from tangling and matting is an often-wondered and often-whispered secret among many witches and not a few wizards.
'Albus' is from a Roman cognomen meaning "white, bright" in Latin. 'Percival' is the name of one of King Arthur's Knights of the Round Table that managed to glimpse the Grail, created by the French poet Chretien de Troyes for the hero of his Arthurian cycle poem. The meaning of the name 'Brian' is not known for certain, possible related to the Celtic element 'bre' meaning hill, or by extension, 'high, noble'.
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Silvanus Kettleburn: Professor of Care of Magical Creatures in Hogwarts and one with a Mastery in Animal Husbandry of much the same, Silvanus Kettleburn has the appearance of a man in his late 30s or early 40s (by nonmagical standards) with salt-and-pepper hair of roughly even mix. His face is tanned and more weathered than most wizards.
He does not seem to be burdened unduly by the limbs he'd already lost to other, creature handling accidents too. He manages well enough with his prosthetics (so far: left arm, right leg). Rumours say that dragons are involved. His closest friends among the staff are Orpheus Dexter and Galatea Merrythought, for reasons expanded on in Chapter 65. Not all of his employment history is known to most people. Like Galatea and Orpheus, he has once been part of Detachment W.
'Silvanus' is a Roman name derived from the Latin 'silva' meaning 'wood, forest'.
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Phyllida Spore (OC): Professor of Herbology in Hogwarts, Phyllida Spore is a mature witch as curvaceous and warm in appearance as any old graven idol of an Earth Mother. A Master Herbologist, she also happens to be the Head of Hufflepuff House. She is caring and motherly to all her students. Her knowledge of older (and bloodier) magical rituals hint that she has clearly not always been the caring Hogwarts teacher that everyone is familiar with.
She, Dumbledore and Dexter are the current longest-serving professors, if one were to consider continuous years of service. If not, that record is then held by Spore and Kettleburn.
'Phyllida' From Φυλλίδος (Phyllidos), the genitive form of Phyllis. Means 'foliage' in Greek.
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