Chapter Eleven: Academic Challenges
Chapter Summary: After attempting a dangerous spell, the Hogwarts professors think it's best to challenge young Henri academically.
About halfway through the academic calendar, the Hogwarts professors convened. It was after their usual mid-year staff meeting that Minerva asked everyone not to leave. The reason she had called the meeting was because she was extremely worried.
"I'm sure those of you who have Mr. Granger have noticed how extremely bright and quick the boy is," she paused, and her fellow professors nodded, even Snape, although his nod was very reluctant and involved the barest of movement. "I've noticed that the boy is very bored and either sleeps in class or fidgets constantly, distracting the other students."
"If that were all, I wouldn't be so worried. But the boy needs a challenge, and it seems he has decided to look elsewhere for one. Last week, when I was teaching the Switching Spell, I noticed him attempting the Animation Spell." Minerva finished, and the professors gasped. The Animation Spell was a very difficult and dangerous NEWT-level spell. That a first-year was attempting it was unheard of and alarming.
"But surely, Minerva, he's too young for that spell. His magic hasn't stabilized yet for him to attempt such a spell. He could hurt himself and others. The mechanics involved are too complicated for a child, even one as bright as you say Mr. Granger is," pointed out Bathsheda Babbling, the Ancient Runes professor. Teaching an elective course, she hadn't yet interacted with young Mr. Granger but had heard all about him in the staff room, especially from a gloating Filius.
"That's exactly my point, Bathsheda. The boy may be very bright, but he's still a child. We have to make sure he doesn't hurt himself or others while trying to challenge himself mentally," Minerva answered.
"So, what do you suggest, Minerva? We follow the boy around and make sure he doesn't attempt dangerous spells?" Severus Snape drawled.
Septima Vector interjected before Minerva could answer, as the two were always at odds. "I don't think that's what Minerva is trying to say, Severus. I think she's suggesting that we challenge the boy ourselves, so he doesn't go looking for challenges elsewhere. That way, we can give him work that will keep him occupied but will be safe for his capabilities."
"Exactly," Minerva said. "If we can come up with a challenging enough curriculum for him, we won't have to worry about him trying dangerous spells, because we'll know what he's doing."
Filius joined in. "I like the idea, Minerva, but how do we go about it? If we isolate him, we won't be helping him in the long run. We have to remember he's still a child. He needs time to just be that, not be buried under a harder course load."
"How about a blended approach?" Severus asked, to the shock of his colleagues. He was notoriously unhelpful when it came to student welfare.
Aurora Sinistra brightened up. "I like it! Let's not force a huge transition on the boy, especially since he's just in his first year and still settling in. We can give him extra assignments or projects and see how he advances, then plan his curriculum as we move forward. That way, we challenge him, but leave him some time to be a kid, and adjust as needed if he continues to progress as quickly as he is now."
All the professors nodded in agreement—well, except for Snape, of course. "I'm not designing extra assignments for the brat. He'll be auditing my third-year class once a week. That ought to keep him busy," he said, then left the room with his cloak billowing.
They spent a few more minutes ironing out their plan. They concluded that they would write to his mother, explaining their concerns and proposed plan, and move on from there. Professor Burbage was worried about a first-year taking third-year Potions, but Professor Vector assured her that letting the boy take a third-year class was the highest praise Snape could ever give. Snape was especially selective with his students, and he would not allow Henri anywhere near that class if he didn't think him capable.
Jean Granger was sitting in her office, looking at a spreadsheet but not really seeing it. She had seen it before; they were doing well. When she had suggested to her husband all those years ago that they start their own dental practice, she never anticipated how successful they would be.
Their little dental practice had grown and transformed into a mid-level health center. They were certainly financially well off now—well not compared to the wealth and luxury she had grown up in, but it was enough to ensure her petit prince would never want for anything, and that was what mattered to Jean.
That was also why she was staring uncomprehendingly at the spreadsheet. Henri had been on her mind lately. She and Henri had always been close, and Daniel joked about how she would cope with Henri away at boarding school. It was hard, but she would have managed if she had received letters filled with tales of friends and mischief. Instead, all she got were stories about adventures with house-elves.
She had raised her son to always tell the truth, and she had succeeded in that Henri never lied outright; he lied by omission. If he didn't write about friends, it was because he had none. But what else was he omitting? Was he being bullied? That thought kept her up at night. Daniel kept saying she was overreacting, that Henri needed time to adjust—after all, he was still getting used to a new country, a new language, a new culture. He'd eventually settle in and make friends.
But Jean could feel something she couldn't explain to her husband. She saw how disappointed he looked when it was time to return to school after the Christmas break. That wasn't how he looked when she sent him off to Hogwarts the first time. Something had happened there that made him not want to go back.
Jean had started to think that maybe moving to England had been a mistake. The idea had come to her one day when she heard Daniel explaining an English word to Henri in French. She had felt guilty; her parents had rejected Daniel because he was English—was she doing the same thing by raising their son as French when he was both French and English?
So she had proposed the move to Daniel. He was all for it but worried about how Henri would adjust. In the end, they agreed he was still young and would be fine. But then she watched how forlorn he was those first few weeks in England. The only time she saw him smile was when he was on the phone with Philippe. She thought it would get better when he started school, but then he struggled to fit in and find his place.
When Minerva had come calling, Jean had thought she was the saving grace. But now, she had this unsettling feeling. She always cherished and feared letters from Hogwarts. She cherished them because they meant hearing from her son, but she feared them because she was scared that one day she'd receive a letter telling her that her son was hurt. She hoped she was overreacting to Henri being so far away from home, as Daniel said.
Just as she was about to lock up and go home, she received a letter. It wasn't Xerxes—sometimes Henri used Hogwarts owls to give Xerxes a rest—but when she saw the Hogwarts logo on the letterhead, her hands shook, and she felt lightheaded, needing to sit down. Please don't be bad news, she kept chanting in her head.
She had to read the letter three times to fully grasp its meaning. Henri was bored and causing trouble because the course load was too easy for him. A smile of pride crossed her face. Wait, dangerous spells?
Before she replied to Minerva, she sent a quick letter to Henri, forbidding him from attempting new spells without adult supervision. Then she wrote to Minerva, telling her to go ahead with their proposed plan and to keep her in the loop.
When she told Daniel that evening, he was insufferable all day. At the market, he told everyone who would listen that their son was so smart that his professors didn't know how to teach him. She chastised him, but her heart wasn't entirely in it. She was proud, but she knew she needed to have a serious talk with Henri when he came home for Easter about responsible magic.
When Henri was called to his head of house's office a day after receiving his Maman's letter forbidding him from trying advanced spells without adult supervision, he was scared. Henri had always been a good student and had never crossed paths with teachers, even at Hogwarts. Despite his tumultuous start there, he hadn't broken any rules—at least, as far as he knew.
But last week, in Transfiguration class, he had grown bored after executing the switching spell for the tenth time in a row. He decided to try a spell he had seen in one of the books he had found in the mancave.
The look of fury on McGonagall's face when she saw what he was doing would forever be ingrained in his memory. Henri could hardly believe he had once been afraid of Draka and her cronies; Draka was nothing compared to Minerva. She had dragged him to her office and given him a tongue-lashing about being irresponsible with magic that nearly made him cry. He was relieved he managed not to, but he was sure McGonagall noticed because she stopped yelling, sat him down in a chair, and spoke gently to him after that. He had lost Ravenclaw ten points, his first ever loss of points and was assigned detention with her for a week, and she made him give her the book where he had found the spell. Henri would have accepted any punishment to get out of that office. Damn, McGonagall was terrifying.
He thought that was the end of it, but then he received a letter from his Maman. He dreaded hearing about it when he got home. Henri knew he had done something stupid, so he decided not to tell Whispy, lest she scold him as well, but he did tell Mispy that he had detention.
Now he was sweating buckets as he made his way to Professor Flitwick's office. On the way, he received a note from a rather temperamental owl. There was only one word on the note, which Henri guessed was the password to Flitwick's office.
"Henri," Flitwick began with a warm smile that calmed Henri. If he was smiling, he was not angry. "I've spoken with the other professors about your progress. They are all quite impressed with your work, as am I. However, it's clear that you're in need of more challenging material."
Henri's eyes lit up with interest. "What do you mean, Professor?"
"We've discussed it among ourselves and consulted your parents, and we've decided to offer you some extra work to keep you busy. Professor Snape has been kind enough to extend to you the opportunity to attend a third-year potions class each week," Flitwick explained. "This will provide you with additional coursework that should keep you engaged and challenged."
Henri's excitement was palpable. "Really? That sounds fantastic! I've been wanting something more challenging. I promise I won't let you down," he added after a stern look from his head of house, "and I'll be super responsible."
Flitwick chuckled. "I'm sure you'll do just fine, and I'll trust you to keep your word about being responsible."
"I always keep my word, Professor," Henri said seriously. "That's how I was raised."
"Good," Flitwick clapped his hands. "Very good indeed."
Henri's gratitude was evident. "Thank you, Professor. I really appreciate this opportunity."
Flitwick's smile widened. "You're welcome, Henri. We're all looking forward to seeing how you progress with this new challenge."
As Henri left the office, he felt a renewed sense of purpose. The prospect of tackling more advanced material was invigorating. This new development not only promised to occupy his restless mind but also gave him a hopeful outlook on his academic journey at Hogwarts.
