Chapter 9 - Wait. Why do you hate her?

"Welcome. My name is Nimueh Le Fay, but seeing as we already have a Miss Le Fay here, you can all address me as Professor Nimueh."

A few of the other students cast curious looks towards their table and Mithian felt Morgana tense beside her. Her friend had denied having any knowledge of their new Professor, but Mithian had seen Arthur Pendragon pull her away from breakfast to talk to her the morning after the sorting feast, and the siblings had both been irritatingly tight-lipped ever since. Mithian knew that Merlin had been trying and failing to get Arthur to open up to him, and she had been fairing similarly with Morgana. Perhaps Professor Nimueh would be more forthcoming.

"Now, I'm only your second Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, which is good. It means you'll have less terrible habits that need breaking than the upper years do, which is an irritating consequence of the circus of questionably qualified professors who have filled this teaching position before me," she sighed. "It also means that you already have a year's worth of experience in the magical world, so I don't have to worry about any muggle-borns being in over their heads."

The final sentence sent a few of the students casting wary looks towards each other. They generally didn't have to worry about their professors when it came to blood-purity (though professor Snape would usually turn a blind eye if he ever heard that kind of bullying), but the casual dismissal of muggle-borns wasn't a good sign.

"I'll only be your Professor for one year, which means not only is it my job to educate you on your second-year curriculum, but also to give you the tools and knowledge you need to survive the next five Professors after me. Ask the upper years, they will all tell you that they've had a different professor in this subject for every year that they've been here. And none of us have any way of knowing how capable those people will be, so I will be here to teach you how to self-study, how to practice safely when unsupervised, and how to verify whether what your Professor is teaching you is actually useful or accurate knowledge."

That . . . was actually kind of a relief. Mithian had heard the bets going around the common room this week on how this year's Defence teacher would turn out. There were bets on everything from her Hogwarts house to whether or not she would survive the year intact. It was, Mithian had learnt, a yearly tradition to make bets on the new Defence Professor after the first impression from the sorting feast, and before anyone had had any of her classes. First years were always excluded, given that it was always their first night at Hogwarts, so this was the first Mithian had ever heard of it. But it was useful to hear about the never-ending roundabout of teachers that they'd had.

So, with that in mind, hearing that Professor Nimueh intended to help them navigate not only this year, but their future years at Hogwarts also, was an undoubtedly good sign. It sounded like it would require a lot more work, what with the self-study and additionally researching whatever their professors would be telling them, but it did sound like something that would be good to learn. And with the class mix of Slytherin and Ravenclaw, she wasn't going to get any complaints when it came to gathering knowledge.

"But all of that is for later," she assured them. "For now, I want everyone to take their wands and hold them as you would if you were preparing to cast a defensive spell, as if you're preparing for a duel. While I'm sure a basic grip would have been corrected by your Transfiguration or Charms Professors, Defense is rather different. You need to be ready for your opponent to attempt to disarm you, and to be ready to cast multiple spells back to back, moving swiftly from one to the other. Your grip needs to be firm, but a loose enough hold to allow fluidity of movement."

She moved around the room then, observing them and offering up small corrections and adjustments that needed to be made. "Okay, not bad. You need to move your thumb a little lower. Loosen your grip a little. Don't hold your wrist so rigidly."

Most of the advice went towards the ravenclaw side of the classroom. The simple fact of the matter was that many Slytherins came from pure-blood families, herself included, and that meant that most children were given practice wands as young as five years old. They were taught some basic wand movements and how to hold the things correctly from such a young age that it was practically muscle memory at this point.

"All in all, not too bad. Your last Professor was an ex-auror, so I didn't expect any of you to need too many corrections. Now I expect you all to remember it; this is the best grip to hold your wand with when duelling or casting defensive magic. Remember it in the years to come.

"This year your education will focus on the basics of self-defence. Learning how to disarm or incapacitate your opponent using simple spells. Unless you decide to go into a very specialised field, such as Auror training, magizoology, curse breaking, or competitive duelling, any real-life dangers you face will most-probably be able to be dealt with using basic charms or hexes. Most witches and wizards are not attacked regularly, nor do they have to deal with life-threatening situations. Being able to disarm your opponent, immobilise them, or stun them will generally be enough to get you out of a sticky situation safely.

"However, the most important defensive spell you can learn is the shield charm, protego. And so that is what we are starting with today."

Confusion crossed over almost every face in the room. Protego was not in their text book for this year (yes, Mithian liked to read through all of her textbooks during the last few weeks of summer, there was nothing wrong with being prepared. And from the sounds of confusion spreading through the room, she was not the only one).

A Ravenclaw boy raised his hand. "Excuse me, Professor, but isn't that a fifth-year spell?"

More mutterings broke out at that. Sure, Mithian had known that it was above their grade level, but a fifth-year spell for second-years? It would be impossible.

She looked to her side to exchange a commiserating look with Morgana - there would be no chance at anyone winning house points this lesson when no one would be able to actually do the spell - but instead her friend's focus was solely on Professor Nimueh. She was staring at her like she was a puzzle that she was trying to figure out. Like she was trying to spot where the trick was, where was the clue that would make everything make sense?

Mithian didn't get it.

"Yes, it is a fifth-year spell," Professor Nimueh responded, as if the fact hardly mattered. "But don't worry, it won't be on any of your exams, you won't be graded for it, and you aren't going to fail anything if you can't accomplish the spell. In all honesty, I expect that less than a third of you will have managed it by the end of the year."

"Then why teach it at all?" Morgana asked, without raising her hand, earning herself a few glares from their fellow Slytherins.

Not that she had to do much to earn such a thing. Morgana had already been ostracised by most of the house after word got around about exactly who her guardian was. And then after the disaster this summer and Snape's announcement in the common room that 'alternative potions classes were available' - with his tone saying that by 'alternative' he meant 'worse', and his eyes saying that anyone in this house who signed up for it would be signing a deathwarrent, of course Morgana had practically skipped over to write her name down on the sign-up sheet - Morgana hadn't been earning herself many new friends. This much was clear to even the first-years, who determinedly stayed clear of her.

Of course, Mithian caught some of the backlash. She was officially labelled as a blood-traitor now, and had her own slew of harsh words thrown in her direction inside the comfort of the common-room. But other than that, she was mostly left alone. Even if she was by Morgana's side, none of her housemates dared say a harsh word towards her outside of the dungeons. The house had to appear united, after all (to all but 'mudbloods' that is).

"No, it's a good question," the Professor defended, misinterpreting the glares sent in Morgana's direction. But the response only seemed to make her friend bristle further towards Professor Nimueh.

"I'm teaching you the spell because you need to know it. I don't know who your professor will be once you're in your fifth year, and I don't know if they will teach you adequately. But protego can protect you from most jinxes and curses, making it an important spell to learn. Not just for school, but for life." She paused then, her gaze travelling over the room, clearly weighing her next words carefully. "Less than ten years ago we were in the middle of a civil war."

The atmosphere in the room shifted immediately. There was barely a single person in the room who hadn't lost a family member to one side of the war or another. Only the muggleborns were spared such a thing. And to them, Mithian had no doubt that a real mention of the war was fascinating in some kind of grotesque way. They had all heard about it briefly when Harry Potter arrived at Hogwarts, after all The Boy Who Lived was the only reason all of their lives weren't still at risk, but this sounded like it would be a much different conversation to the sort of gossip that had spread with Harry's arrival in the school.

"We were in a civil war," she emphasised. "We weren't fighting another country. We weren't even fighting muggles. We were fighting each other. Wizard against wizard. And I imagine that a great deal more people would be alive today if they had known this spell. It can't stop a killing curse. But it can stop the kind of curse that would immobilise you, or knock you unconscious or injure you. It could leave you still capable of dodging the killing curse.

"Less than ten years ago we were in a civil war. Forty-five years ago Grindelwald was still at large. We know that witches and wizards can live into their hundreds, easily, so how likely do you think that makes it for there to be some sort of conflict in your lifetimes?" They all shifted uncomfortably at the thought. "I would rather like for all of my students to outlive me, if at all possible."

Mithian digested the Professor's words silently. It was a rather horrifying thought.

There had been two great wizarding conflicts in the last fifty years, did that mean that they were likely to encounter four of their own in their lifetimes? It made the idea that they would at one point be involved in at least one war almost inevitable. She knew that the muggles had had two 'world wars' of their own in the last seventy-five years. She supposed that meant that people were just inherently power-hungry or violent? Muggles and wizards truly were not so different.

It wasn't a calming thought. But it did make Mithian far more determined to ensure that she had this spell mastered by the end of the year.

"So, protego. Now the wand movement -"

"- is incredibly simple, just a direct slash downward. You want to make sure that it's a vertical movement, no diagonal lines, understand? Now, I know when casting something like a shield charm, you would instinctively want to angle the protection to the centre of your body, in order to get the most coverage of the shield. However, if you do that for me now - yes exactly - you'll notice that your arm is at an angle. Your arm being at an angle like that makes it much more likely for your wand movement to arc or curve accidentally, thus rendering the spell less likely to work."

Merlin didn't know why Arthur was spending the entire class glaring at their new Defence Professor. She was good.

"So, I want you to all arm yourselves, remember to use the grip I showed you for defensive casting, and slash downwards holding your arms out straight. Don't worry, if you do the spell successfully then the shield is large enough to cover all of you even without directing to the centre of your bodies."

They all followed suit, grabbing their wands and practising the movement as Professor Nimueh directed. While most did so with a determined frown on their face, Arthur's really looked like more of a scowl.

Merlin elbowed him in the ribs. "If you're going to be a prat, at least be subtle about it," he muttered. If required to, then Merlin would absolutely stand by his friend and hate this woman for no reason. But couldn't they at least do so a little less obviously?

Of course, Arthur's natural response to criticism was to turn his glare on Merlin instead. He supposed that worked too. If Professor Nimueh just assumed that Arthur was an arse who glared at everyone, then she wouldn't think anything of him glaring at her too.

And since Merlin was clearly the far more mature one between the two of them, he stuck his tongue out at him.

"Boys, if you would both pay attention," Professor Nimueh chastened lightly.

Merlin felt heat flood his face at the reprimand, and knew that his ears had probably gone pink from embarrassment. He was never called out in class like that. All of his professors liked him. Before this summer, even Professor Snape had seemed at the very least apathetic to his existence, seeing as Merlin was both good at potions and quiet in class.

A couple of their classmates snickered, including Gwaine - the traitor - but Arthur just turned his glare straight back towards their new Professor. Only this time, it was twice as venomous.

Merlin sighed. He didn't get it. It wasn't like she had given them detention for not paying attention. She hadn't even taken off house points. So why was Arthur acting so pissy?

"Sorry, Professor," he said on behalf of both of them, hoping his apology would make up for how blatantly disrespectful Arthur was acting. Luckily, she just seemed vaguely amused by the whole thing.

"Alright class," she said, moving on, "Now we're going to try it with the spell. So repeat after me: protego. Good. So, make sure you all keep the wand movement we just practised in mind, and one, two, three, all together now: protego!"

With her previous warning that most of them wouldn't even manage to cast the spell by the end of the year, Merlin was expecting Professor Nimueh to be the only one with a shimmering wall in front of her, ready to block any and all spells. But she wasn't.

Because in front of him was his own translucent, bluish-white shield, through which he could see the surprised faces of his classmates. It wasn't too unusual for Merlin to manage a new spell on his first try, but this was a fifth-year spell. His own shock was enough to cut his concentration and he watched his shield flicker away.

"I see that you live up to the expectations, Mister Emrys," Professor Nimueh said, sounding almost smug, though Merlin couldn't begin to guess why. Either way, her tone was enough for Arthur to shoot an accusatory look in her direction. "Twenty points to Hufflepuff."

"I thought you said that we weren't going to be graded on this spell," a Gryffindor girl - Alicia maybe? - reminded the professor, shooting Merlin a scornful look. "You said it might not even be possible for some of us to achieve it this year. How is it fair to award points for something out of our control?"

Some of the other students muttered in agreement and Merlin felt himself sink into his chair, his sense of achievement quickly waning. He didn't ask for house points. Surely it was Professor Nimueh they were upset with, right? All Merlin had done was try to cast the spell along with the rest of the class.

"Just because you're pants at DADA doesn't mean the rest of us won't have the chance to earn points," Arthur said in his defence, his hand reaching out to squeeze Merlin's under the table. "I know you won't be earning Gryffindor any points, but the rest of us still can. So maybe try shutting your mouth? Or, better yet? Start practising your spellwork."

"You know what, Pendragon -"

"That's enough!" Professor Nimueh called loudly, staring down at both Arthur and his shouting partner. The other girl looked cowed under their new Professor's admonishment, but Arthur simply stared right back defiantly. Merlin squeezed his friend's hand in warning - you don't stare back at adults when they're looking at you like that, it's dangerous.

"Right," she began, her voice colder than it had been all through her enthusiastic explanations of their school year and the spell. "I want you all to pair up and practice trying to cast the charm while your partner casts a weak stinging hex. Just a sting hex," she warned. "Mister Pendragon, I believe it will be very cathartic for you and Miss Spinnet to work together today -"

"But -"

" - and Mister Emrys will come with me."

Merlin knew that after today's class Arthur would be filled with nothing but hatred for Professor Nimueh. And as a loyal friend, Merlin would have promised to hate her just as much (though much more quietly), but now he felt his own fair share of wariness towards her rise.

Harry had told him - warned him - that the new Professor had taken an interest in him and his magic, but it was another thing for her to pull him aside on his own during classes. He sort of understood. He had already done what the rest of the class would be working on for the rest of the lesson, but he still didn't like the idea of being called out and separated from his friends.

The rest of the class shuffled around, pairing up, oblivious to his inner turmoil. Arthur slumped towards Alicia Spinnet, Gwaine rushed over to Freya, Leon and Gwen shared a smile, and the Weasley twins didn't even exchange a look and just started hexing each other without even attempting to shield. It was enough of a sight for his lips to quirk up into a small smile before he felt like he had to walk into a trap.

The professor sat behind her desk, which was positioned off to the side in one corner of the room, leaving plenty of space for, not only the student desks, but also free room to practice. There was a single chair on the other side of it, which he slid into after she gestured at him to do so.

He let the sounds of the other students laughing and yelping as all of the stinging hexes hit their mark wash over him. He was okay. He wasn't really alone with her. His friends were just a few metres away. There was nothing for him to worry about.

"Erm, what did you want to speak to me about, Professor?" he asked cautiously, after a long pause. She seemed to be perfectly content to study him quietly, but her silence was starting to get to him. There was just something about the way her eyes watched him. Almost like a predator watching its prey. And yet, he didn't feel threatened the way he always had when Cenred had stared at him with the eyes of a monster.

"Your magic is very advanced," she told him. She stated it as a fact. There was no gushing like Professor Flitwick seemed inclined to. It wasn't the well-earned praise he might get from Professor McGonagall. Nor was it the proud compliments he might be given from Professor Sprout. Just a fact.

"Even outside of your connection to the Old Religion, you could easily be considered a prodigy. I imagine, with a year of accelerated teaching, you would be capable of passing your OWLs with all O's in the core subjects," she informed him. Merlin wasn't too sure of that. Sure, he had come top of his year last year. And Maybe he tended to succeed in learning new spells or grasping new theory concepts on his first try. But he had seen how stressed fifth-years got for OWLs, and there was no way Merlin could handle that sort of thing now.

"Of course, that's not what I'm recommending," she assured him. "No," she smiled, "Not when you have an entire branch of magic at your fingertips that you could be spending your time learning instead."

"Harry told me that you've studied the Old Religion," Merlin prompted, following her lead.

"Yes. All theoretical, of course. At least, that was until Headmaster Dumbledore told me all about you."

"So . . you can teach me?" he asked.

"Technically, it would be more like self-study. I can't demonstrate the spells, and they're supposed to be performed wandlessly so there's nothing for me to really correct anyway. But what I do have is a grimoire. A large part of my mastery was finding as many spells from the time of the Old Religion as I could, and making sure to verify them as actual spells, not just a scholar's theorisation."

"There are spells?!" he exclaimed. He could barely believe it. This whole time he had been practicing his magic with intent alone. He couldn't imagine having to learn all of his spells for school without any actual words to learn. It made him wonder how much easier learning to control his other magic would be now that he had access to a real book.

Professor Nimueh laughed when he repeated as much to her. "It's very impressive how much you've managed to accomplish on your own. But you don't need to do that anymore, you have me now. Even after my year of teaching here is over, I want you to know you can rely on me for help with your magic."

"But . . . why would you do that?" he asked, surprised. "I mean, I get you helping me while you're at Hogwarts, you're here to be a teacher. But why bother after you're done?"

"Merlin, I've dedicated my whole life to the Old Religion," she explained. "I was fascinated by it ever since I was a child. I've spent decades searching through the most obscure sources for even a glimmer of the truth. The sort of power that sorcerers used to wield . . . I wanted to understand how our people could have lost that. And you, being able to do what you do, you're the key I've been waiting for."

He couldn't imagine dedicating his whole life to study something like that, only to hear that some random child was capable of doing what you had wanted to do since you were a child, all without even learning to. He didn't understand how she wouldn't resent him? She had devoted her entire life to try and learn more about what he used to make his cat float.

He definitely wouldn't be sharing that anecdote with her.

"Now, seeing as we are still in class, I want you to repeat after me: scildan!"

"Scildan," he repeated, putting his worries aside. He had been expecting his mouth to trip over the foreign word - it sounded nothing like the latin-based spells that he usually used. But instead he just felt a sense of rightness. As if this was the language that he was born to speak. There was no power in the spell, no magic in it, but it still felt good. "What does it mean?" he asked belatedly, only then realising that he had been trying to cast a spell without putting any actual thought into it.

"Have you not been paying attention to today's lesson?" she asked with a playful smirk. "It's a shield spell, Emrys."

Right. That made sense. "Scildan," he tried again, this time picturing the same shield from before in front of him. He made sure to visualise the glowy blue light that had protected him earlier, his wand feeling useless as he held it limply in his right hand. "It's not working," he admitted, missing the feeling of the rush of magic welling up inside him. He was so sure that it would be made easier with a spell.

"Relax," Professor Nimueh told him. "And put your wand away, it's useless for this. Alright, now stand up, who tries to defend themselves from a chair? Act like you mean it," she instructed him.

He did as she asked, tucking his wand away into his pocket as he got to his feet. "Scildan," he said, this time raising his right hand, as though physically trying to shield himself from something. But it still wasn't working.

It was then that he noticed the muttering of his classmates, the sound of the foreign spell and their new Professor's personal guidance was obviously drawing their attention. Arthur looked curious - though still very suspicious - and Gwaine was giving him the least subtle thumbs-up he had ever seen. He allowed the sight to bolster him slightly. His friends believed he could do this.

Determined, he turned back towards Professor Nimueh, ready to try again, but instead saw a burst of colour headed towards him. It wasn't the harmless orange of the stinging hexes that his classmates had been practising a few minutes earlier, but a dark, threatening purple headed straight towards him.

His wand was in his pocket, not that that mattered, because his instinct was not to go for his wand. His first instinct was to speak the word that had felt so right to him just moments ago. Even before he said it, he could feel his magic rising in defence of him. It just waiting for him to direct it.

"Scildan!" he cried, his hand raised reflexively to deflect the unknown spell away from him. A shimmering gold covered his field of vision, and he wondered if the gold of his eyes was actually affecting his sight for once.

It was only when the gold sheen flickered away a moment later to reveal a proud and smug-looking Professor Nimueh staring back at him, her wand still pointed towards him, that he realised exactly what he'd done. He'd blocked her spell. He'd really done it.

"Well done," she said plainly, sounding as if she had simply been waiting for him to catch up and see all that he was capable of, as if she had known all along that he could do it.

It took a moment for his classmates to snap out of their shocked silence, but a great big "Whoop!" from Gwaine was enough to set them off chattering excitedly. While the scope of Merlin's odd magic had become a bit of an open secret throughout the school (you cause an earthquake one time), he could understand that it was another matter entirely for them to see a second-year performing wandless magic right in front of them.

"I would award points, but it seems rather unfair to do so for something that no other student is capable of achieving," Professor Nimueh said with a wink towards Alicia. The girl flushed red, but seemed pleased nonetheless.

"Right, class. I would definitely say that that has been a successful first lesson. Of course, next time we will have to move on to the actual syllabus for the year, but that doesn't mean that you can get out of practising the shield charm. I will be firing stinging hexes at random throughout the year and awarding house points to anyone who manages to block them, so no slacking."

A few people grumbled at that, but most seemed generally excited at being given a chance to perform the charm and the opportunity to earn points for their respective houses. Merlin was mostly just relieved that the attention seemed to finally be off him. As proud as he was that he had managed to get the spell to work, it was the sort of thing that he wanted to celebrate without an audience.

"We're about five minutes short, but I doubt I could get any of you to focus back on your work, so I'll let you all leave for lunch a little early." That definitely got her the favour of most of the class.

"Ah, Miss Bastet, could you stay behind for a moment please?"

Freya nodded, looking as though she had been expecting it. "Yes, Professor," she said calmly.

She waved Gwaine off, who didn't hesitate to tackle Merlin into a hug once he had the assurance that he needn't wait around. "That was amazing, Em!" he laughed, dragging him out of the classroom.

And with one last suspicion-filled look over his shoulder, Arthur followed behind them.

"Come on, out with it!"

"I am fine."

"No, I know that, you've already said that. What I'm saying is that I don't believe you."

"Merlin -" he said warningly.

"I'm just saying that if you needed to talk about anything then I'm here for you." His smile was infuriating. "Not that you do have anything to get off your chest. But, y'know, with the way you were glaring at Professor Nimueh all through Defence, if you did then I'm -"

"Merlin!" he barked. "I am fine. I have nothing I need to talk about. I have nothing I want to get off my chest. And I do not need your shoulder to cry on!"

"Okay . . ." he said, looking slightly chastened. "But, I never actually said anything about my shoulder. Do you need my shoulder to cry on?"

"No! I literally just said that I did not need that!"

Arthur loved his friend. He really did. Arthur was, in fact, incredibly proud of his friend. But that did not mean that he wanted to talk about his feelings. And if Merlin kept on trying to make him then Arthur was going to throttle him. Or whoever it was that got the idea into his head that Arthur was upset about something.

Which was technically Arthur. Which meant that he might have to throttle himself . . . ?

Okay so maybe a different idea.

So what if Arthur was a little tense over the new Defence professor? Morgana was dealing with that, and Arthur trusted his sister. She had promised him that she would tell him what she could when she could, which meant that Arthur had no reason to continue thinking about the matter until she got back to him. Innocently glaring at his new Professor was just his own special way of not thinking about it.

So if Merlin would just let him forget it, then Arthur could actually relax and try and enjoy spending time with his friend. His friend who had just done - not one, but two - pieces of ridiculously impressive magic, which is what they should be talking about right now.

"Sorry," Merlin said genuinely after a despondent sigh. With any luck he was finally letting this go.

"It doesn't matter," Arthur assured him quickly. He hated that sad, guilty look on Merlin's face far more than he had hated his incessant questions.

"It's just . . . you've helped me before, you know, when I was freaking out about things, or when my magic was kind of crazy?" Arthur nodded. "I just want to be able to help you too," he explained. "You've been there for me so many times - and not just when I'm freaking out - I mean your entire family helped Harry and I when we needed it this summer. And . . . you cheer me up. Like, I know I froze you out after - you know - but still I got all of your letters and drawings. And they made things better. You made things better. You helped. And I . . . I don't know. I wanted to be that for you. I'm not sure why you're friends with me sometimes. I'm not kind like Gwen, or smart like Lance, or funny like Gwaine, or -"

"Don't be stupid!" Arthur told him angrily. "You're kind, and smart, and funny! And even if you weren't - which you are - I would still be your bloody friend!"

Okay maybe yelling at the person you're trying to convince of that isn't a smart decision.

But Arthur was a Gryffindor. He didn't need to be smart, just reckless and brave. Either way, his aggressive statement that valued Merlin friendship was enough to get a giggle out of him, so Arthur didn't feel like too much of an idiot for it.

"I'm serious," Arthur told him, with a smile on his face. "You're my best friend."