Chapter 7
Sadists Teachers
6 September 1991, Hogwarts, Scotland
Thankfully for Alexandra, the rest of her first week at Hogwarts was not worse than her first day at the school. Of course, given how bad this first day had been, it was a pretty low bar to pass under. That was not to say there was no room for improvement. Waking up and going down for breakfast on Tuesday, she noticed that while nobody was shouting "Dark Lady!" anymore (well nobody save the Weasley Twins, but they didn't count), there were plenty of student whispering on her way to the Great Hall. Oh, and once again, the Ravenclaws at breakfast did their best to eat the furthest away from her. It was like she had contracted the plague or some other nasty disease.
The first class on Tuesday for the Ravenclaws was Transfiguration, which as it happened was done in common with the Slytherins. In fact, Tuesday was a Slytherin morning, as the Ravenclaws were doing the same classes as the House of Snakes: Transfiguration and Herbology.
From the beginning, Alexandra's impression of the senior professor of Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall, was that the woman was strict and didn't tolerate any chaos in her class. The woman was the Deputy Head mistress and the Head of Gryffindor, and warned from the start the Ravenclaws and the Slytherins in the classroom that any kind of pranks or disorder would not be tolerated.
"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," the Senior Transfiguration Professor had said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."
Then she changed into a cat and then reverted back into a human, before transforming her desk into a cow and back too. Even the most cynical students of Slytherin House had been in awe after this magical demonstration, and everyone in the class couldn't wait to get started.
Alas, they had been forced to acknowledge changing a desk into the animal of their choice was way over their heads for the moment. Nearly half the period was passed doing calculus and learning weird transfiguration theories Alexandra could honestly say she had not understood even half of.
After writing a lot of notes, they had been authorised to try changing a match into a needle. It had been horridly difficult: by the end of the lesson, Alexandra thought she had one of the best attempts, and while her match had turned completely silver, it was not pointy at all. Her work had gained one point for Ravenclaw, but she had not avoided the mountain of work Professor McGonagall had assigned them.
Following Transfiguration, they went to Greenhouse number 1 and the class of Herbology.
The Senior Professor of Herbology was Professor Pomona Sprout, a rotund woman who was convivial to all the first-year students and the Head of House Hufflepuff. As it happened, Alexandra had no doubt Herbology was going to be a nightmare for the Slytherins during their time at school. As the person who was supposed to do all the chores at the Dursleys', Alexandra had been forced to do gardening. Granted, it had been not her idea of a pleasure task, and no plant or flower Aunt Petunia wanted in her garden was magical (the very idea of that would have sent her into a coma), but she had done gardening in her childhood.
Noticing all the Slytherins first years and about half the Ravenclaws had hands perfectly manicured and their hair in a perfect fashion, she had to conclude the greenhouses were the closest things to hell for them. The greenhouses of Hogwarts were warm, far warmer than the Scottish climate of September. It was also extremely wet. After half an hour, each student was swimming in their own sweat, as the sun over the greenhouse bombarded them with all its light and warmth.
Draco Malfoy, a pale blond-haired pureblood boy took the opportunity of whining and whispering about a hundred times "When my father hears of this...", as the rest of the class studied the different sorts of fungi, and ended up costing his House five points, as he forgot to close his mouth when Professor Sprout passed by to see what they had learnt of the fungi they had before them. When the bell rang to signal the end of the first class of Herbology, Alexandra had not needed to read minds to know the Slytherins, and Malfoy in particular, had utterly loathed this class. The unneeded confirmation came from the blond pureblood's own mouth when he ranted about being forced to do the work of "peasants, blood-traitors..." as they walked back through the grounds of Hogwarts.
Leaving the greenhouse, she went like the others to lunch, and then after a rapid shower to erase the fetid odours of Herbology, ran to the wing where the History of Magic classes were taught. Rapidly, she realised she shouldn't have bothered. The Senior Professor of History of Magic was named Binns, and for an unknown reason which escaped Alexandra, someone had thought it was a great idea to let him continue to teach long after he was dead. Binns was a ghost. Worse, Binns was a boring ghost. In less than ten minutes, the majority of the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors were no longer listening. After twenty minutes, there were only three students who were not sleeping: Morag McDougal, Hermione Granger, and Alexandra herself.
Morag McDougal was drawing something with her quill on a parchment which looked like the fungi they had studied in the morning. Alexandra was reading her history book, figuring she might as well do something productive when the professor (as lightly as she wanted to use that title for Binns) wanted to bore them to death. Only Hermione Granger, the bushy-haired girl of House Gryffindor, looked like she was seriously trying to take notes from Binns' boring and unintelligible speech. Alexandra's respect for the concentration and the sense of sacrifice of the Gryffindor girl rose, but she hoped the girl would realise it was a valiant but doomed effort. Binns' sentences, which had been boring but loud and clear when he described the Goblin War of 1651, were now only whispers, and Alexandra was only hearing something clear when Binns finished a paragraph. Unless she was missing something, Alexandra was thinking all of her courses in History would have to be done in self-study. When the bell rang, it woke up the other nineteen students, who appeared to have been deeply sleeping.
On Wednesday morning, she experienced a brief moment of hope when they learnt they were having a class with the Junior (and alive) History Professor Julius Tiroflan, but this miracle turned to ashes. The wizard was not boring, oh no. Tiroflan was lazy. The man forced the students to come read the History book themselves in front of their classmates, and the teacher answered any questions with instructions like "Ask your Charms professor why!","This is the job of the Transfiguration professor!" or "Go ask the Potions Master, this question is beyond my sphere of competence!" so many times the Ravens and the Lions knew the Professor was not qualified to teach them anything, whether it was History, Charms, Potions, or Transfiguration. In conclusion, History was a lost cause, and Alexandra almost cried for joy when it was over. What were Binns and Tiroflan doing as teachers in a school like Hogwarts? She could teach better than them, and she had exactly two days of magical education. Alexandra had enjoyed History in primary school, but the two so-called 'Professors' had turned this class into a magical joke.
The class of Defence Against the Dark Arts revealed itself to be in the same levels as History. The Senior Professor was named Quirinus Quirrell, his main activities consisting of spending his time stuttering and impregnating the room with the nauseating odour of garlic. His violet turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but no student fully believed that story. For one thing, when Justin Finch-Fletchley asked in an eager voice to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went red and started talking about the sunny weather; for another, they had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley Twins were already launching rumours that insisted the turban was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went.
On Friday morning, they saw the Junior Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts, who presented himself as Professor John Devkins. Unlike Quirrell, the Professor didn't seem to be a coward or someone afraid of his own shadow. But as Alexandra and the rest of her class were forced to admit, Devkins forgot everything. For example, that he was supposed to have class this morning, a point which became evident as he arrived fifteen minutes late. That he was supposed to teach them something, as he was a Professor and they were his students. His keys and the chalk for the blackboard were other things which had been forgotten on his way to the classroom. The questionnaire he wanted to ask them in order to "know them better." That the class he was the teacher of was Defence Against the Dark Arts, not Astronomy, an issue which forced Megan Jones of Hufflepuff to confirm, taking five minutes to impress upon him the correct name of the class and the timetable.
Flying being not taught the first week, the last new Senior Professor to be introduced was Professor Sinistra of Astronomy, and Alexandra found her a good teacher, although she would have enjoyed not being forced to have a course at midnight at the top of the Astronomy Tower on Wednesday. The telescopes of the magical world (or at least of Magical Britain) were also heavily lagging behind their non-magical counterparts, and observing all the constellations was not easy.
The other classes on Thursday only further developed what had been introduced on the first day: they learnt more about the different uses of Lumos and practised the spell in Charms class, they continued their work on their matches-to-needles in Transfiguration, with Alexandra achieving the transformation of her match into a needle for the first time, earning two points for Ravenclaw.
It was only during Friday's lunch that Alexandra and her year-mates discovered for the first time a new aspect of school at Hogwarts: the Slytherin-Gryffindor rivalry.
As she was still shunned by all her House, ignored and alone at lunch, Alexandra was one of the first persons to notice there was something strange with the behaviour of the Gryffindor first-years coming out of the dungeons: instead of alternating between a state of depression or hate like the Hufflepuffs and the Ravenclaws, the Gryffindors led by the unavoidable Neville Longbottom were not only happy, but joyous. As it was public knowledge Professor Snape hated Gryffindor House, Alexandra had a sudden urge to sigh and despair. What had the Lions done to be laughing out loud so much? Alexandra and the rest of the Great Hall had not long to wait to have their answer.
With a loud shout of "BLACK! LONGBOTTOM! WEASLEY!", Professor Snape came out of the dungeons in long strides, his black cape billowing like the one of the Nazgul, with an expression of pure murder on his face.
The smiles at the Gryffindor table died almost instantly. The Potions Master's march to the table of the Lions was marked by a silence which usually was reserved for when Alexandra made an appearance somewhere.
"Thought it was funny to use your miserable attempts at making a Boil Cure for a prank on a student, Black, Longbottom, Weasley?" said Snape, with a cold voice which could have made a bear cower in fear.
Alexandra, much like the rest of the witnesses, felt her jaw dropping. She had seen what a failed Boil Cure potion could do first hand when Hopkins had rolled in pain during Potions class. Surely even Gryffindors weren't that stupid. Or, she thought looking at the pleased face of Leo Black, maybe they were. While Neville and Ronald were not smiling anymore, their partner-in-crime looked completely unaware to the anger of Professor Snape. It was also possible he didn't care, she figured.
"Yes, very funny," answered Leo Black in a sarcastic tone, he didn't seem to understand that the question posed had been rhetorical. "My father did the same thing to you for your hair, didn't he, Snivellus?"
The students in the hall stopped breathing after this. Snape himself began to smile in a way promising endless torment, as if he couldn't believe a Gryffindor boy would have been that stupid.
"Let's see, fifty points from Gryffindor for insulting a professor, Black. Ten points from Gryffindor each for your prank which sent Mr Vaisey to the hospital, Black, Longbottom and Weasley. Longbottom, Weasley, you will have a week of detentions with me. Black, one month of detention, and if I hear you disrespecting me again, I will ask for your expulsion," Snape enounced in a slow, frigid, and calm voice, barely hiding the fury he felt.
The rest of the discussion Alexandra didn't hear as the Potions Master lowered his voice and now spoke in a whisper, but seeing the faces of the Gryffindors, it wasn't to congratulate them for their prank. After a few seconds, Snape left the hall again, and conversations resumed, most of them centred on what had just happened. The three Gryffindors stayed immobile at their table, still in shock from meeting with the vengeful Head of Slytherin.
Ten minutes later, the Slytherin first-years came in for lunch, all harbouring stone faces. Even a look at the now empty hourglass of Gryffindor wasn't enough to sooth them, and seeing them eating and speaking in low tones, it was not hard to guess that they were planning their revenge. Herbology only confirmed Alexandra's opinion. The Ravenclaws, including herself, were busy taking drawing and taking notes on the fungi on one side of the greenhouse, while the Slytherins were on the other side, whispering between themselves and writing things down on parchments that hadn't a chance to have even the slightest importance in the field of Herbology. Draco Malfoy was in the middle of his housemates, of course, and the arrogant blond was neither particularly discreet nor subtle. With Crabbe and Goyle at his side, Malfoy was trying and succeeding to bring the Slytherins in order for battle. Apart from Daphne Greengrass, who seemed to stay out of it and showed an icy expression, the first-year snakes were about to follow Malfoy against Neville Longbottom.
As the class ended and the week-end started, Alexandra wondered how the Slytherins were going to attack the Gryffindors. If one thing had been evident this week, it was that her level in magic was equal to, if not superior to those who had lived in the magical world all their lives. For all their pretensions about magic and the purity of the blood, the magic-raised students didn't seem to have much of a head-start. And Alexandra knew exactly four spells right now, one of them (the match-to-needle Transfiguration) useless for a battle between witches and wizards.
Entering the castle, she went on her way to the Common Room to take a shower before dinner. She had her first "private lesson" this evening with her Head of House, and she refused to go there all dirty and sweaty. As it happened, she lost a bit of time reading her Charms book and had to run to get dinner on time. Passing a corridor badly lit with only one or two torches, Alexandra saw the first-years Gryffindors descending the stairs on her left.
And then the attack came.
A loud, shrieking voice that Alexandra's voice identified as Draco Malfoy's shouted "GO, GET THEM!" and the Slytherins emerged from the extremities of the stairs, throwing coloured sparks at the surprised Gryffindors. Unfortunately for Malfoy and his goons, the moment of surprise didn't last, and not one of the Snakes ambushing the Lions seemed to have much knowledge of useful offensive magic. They just knew to send sparks. Pretty colours, yes, but not something painful or dangerous for something bigger than a hamster. On the other side, Neville Longbottom and Leo Black knew how to perform real spells... and they didn't hold back. Crabbe went down first, his nose covered in mucus and his legs tied. Goyle took three or four spells before going down. Then Nott. Parkinson. Malfoy was hit by seven or eight 'prank spells' and was looking like an alien of science fiction seen in Dudley's comic books when Longbottom was finished with him. Realising the battle was lost, Zabini, Davis, Bulstrode, and the Carrow twins fled the stairs, or tried in Bulstrode's case, as the large girl was hit by what looked like to be a hex which made the victim vomit. A blue tornado spell looking like the Flipendo Jinx Alexandra had read about in her books finished Bulstrode. Except Nigel Wolpert who had been trampled by Crabbe and Goyle at the start of the skirmish, no one in Gryffindor was hurt.
Singularly unimpressed by the Slytherin's attempted method of retaliation, Alexandra turned back and walked away from the scene of the battle, as the screams of victory shouted by the Gryffindors were sure to attract a Professor or a Prefect. She promised herself to ask Professor Flitwick about some of the spells that had just been employed.
Dinner was calm, as there were no first-year Slytherins present except Daphne Greengrass, making Alexandra conclude that with all the teachers present in the Great Hall, no one had yet been warned of the "incident" between the two enemy Houses. It would not last, but for the moment the Gryffindors were all grinning like they had won a wonderful prize, and were congratulated by the older students. Alexandra saw some teachers at the High table frowning, including Professor Snape. By the end of the day, Gryffindor was going to lose the last points it had in its hourglass, that much was certain.
Half an hour later, she entered the Duelling room of Hogwarts. It was a dusty and not pretty place, with a lot of debris everywhere. Pieces of wood and bits of glass littered the ground. Most of the windows were blackened with a sort of slime. The large platform which should have been used for Duelling was leaning against a wall broken into three pieces and they were remnants of chairs and tables everywhere.
"Not a pretty sight, is it?" asked Professor Flitwick, who was making disappear most of the debris with simple flicks of his wand.
"No, no it's not, Professor," answered Alexandra. "What happened here?"
Flitwick sighed, any good humour completely absent. "The war happened. Some of the most brilliant students of the Duelling Club were Gryffindors and Slytherins, and what happened in this room was one of the first warnings we had of the last conflict coming. Two students expelled from Hogwarts with their wands broken. Nineteen students had to be admitted in the Hospital Wing, five had to be transferred to the Hospital of Saint Mungo in urgency. The Duelling Club was closed in 1976, and my efforts since then to reopen it have always been met with failure. But enough of this."
Flitwick slashed his wand, and all the pieces of wood remaining vanished, the clouds of dust were sent outside, and the slime was thrown out of the windows and then disappeared into nothingness.
"Now, Miss Potter. Is there something you want to know before we begin?"
"Yes, Professor. You see I was passing a corridor when..." she explained the ambush she had just been the witness of before dinner. She did not miss the interested look on her teacher's face. "What I just don't understand is why Neville Longbottom and Leo Black knew so many spells when Draco and the other Slytherins knew only to send sparks. I mean, I knew only two spells before mounting the Hogwarts Express, and I learnt them between the moment I got my wand and September 1st!"
Her professor nodded and then explained."While there has been no attempt on his life since the fall of the Dark Lord, it has always been acknowledged the Boy-Who-Lived's life was going to be under threat. Neville's grandmother, Dowager Augusta Longbottom, requested an exemption to train her grandson with several tutors since he was nine years old."
Now that explained everything, Alexandra thought. It was not exactly that impressive a feat to know so much magic when you were two years ahead in experience of your year-mates.
"As for Mr. Black, I can only speculate, but I would not be surprised if his father, Lord Sirius Black had requested the same for his son, although I was not aware of it. Or perhaps young Mr. Black was trained by his father, as Lord Black was and is still quite talented at the type of spells you described. So, for that matter, was your father."
At Alexandra's grimace of the mention of James Potter, Professor Flitwick sighed but did not make more comments.
"As for the exchange of spells, I will keep your knowledge of such events secret. The Gryffindors' and the Slytherins' versions of the event will be all over the castle by tomorrow morning, anyway. In the future, if you see a similar fight, do not intervene unless you believe the life of a student is in danger. Battles where the Lions and Snakes are involved tend to end badly for those who are caught in-between."
"Now, I will be teaching you Duelling," Flitwick stated. "Let's be clear and serious, Miss Potter. I do not teach you these lessons for you to go and curse someone freely." The tone employed by her Head of House was clear and bore none of the humour and joy he spoke with in class. "This class exists in order for you to stay alive and defend yourself when you come under attack with the correct amount of force."
He explained when she raised an eyebrow. "So I don't need to see someone's lawyer to try you with a sentence implicating jail time in Azkaban."
His voice turned more cheerful after that tirade.
"There are four forms of Duelling. The first is friendly duelling. Wizards do it all the time to train, to practise new spells, to keep themselves in good condition. This type of duel stops well before first blood, and is deemed an excellent manner for young wizard and witches to get in touch with their repertoire of spells and know the limit of their capacities."
"Second are the duels of competition. These are a lot more brutal, although it is considered bad form to permanently maim or kill your opponent. This is a bloody sport, but the judges always stop the match before death. Killing will get you banned from participating in the official circles. There are a lot of protocols and rules, because the safety of the spectators and participants is paramount. This type of duelling is the most practised today," Flitwick smiled and bowed slightly to her, "and I happen to be a renowned retired champion of it. If you manifest enough skills it, it is possible I will enter you in some tournaments, like I do for Ravenclaws who manifest a talent in Duelling."
"The third are the honour duels. They were outlawed a century ago in the British Isles. An honour duel is to the death, Miss Potter. They began to fall in disuse after several Noble Houses began to circumvent the protocols to easily kill their enemies without waiting for the duel to begin."
"And the fourth and last is brawl duelling."
"Which is…?" She asked.
"No rules, no referees, just an appropriate name for wizards and witches to fight each other in small numbers until they escape or stay dead. If enough fighters are involved, brawl duelling and a magical battle are virtually undistinguishable from each other. Completely outlawed in the British Isles, there are some circles which allow a limited form of brawl duelling in South America. But it is very rare to hear a tournament organised in this form. It's also known as free-for all duelling, and you might not be surprised to know it is the type of Duelling which bears the most similarities to the incident which happened to you in the Ravenclaw Common Room."
"Four types of duels," she whispered. "Which one are you planning to teach me?"
Flitwick smiled. "Teaching you the first would be a waste of our time. From your fight in the Ravenclaw Common Room, your opponents have already moved past that stage." At her nod of approval, he continued. "Unless you want it, you will never find yourself in an honour duel. I will give you a book to learn the customs and the rules for it, but we will stop there. In this room, we will concentrate on the second and fourth forms, especially the fourth given what almost happened to you."
"Enough history for now," Flitwick said, bouncing on his feet with pleasure.
"Now, I want to have a good picture of what you can do. At my signal, come at me with the intent to kill."
She almost stared open-mouthed at her professor for one second, but managed to close her mouth in time. The man was a retired professional duellist. Of course, she could go at him with the intent to kill! Professor Flitwick could no doubt crush her with one hand behind his back. Alexandra would be lucky to give him a scratch.
"Begin!"
Alexandra decided that if her Head of House wanted a fight, he was going to have one. She shouted "LUMOS!" and closed her eyes. The explosion of light she had involuntarily made in Charms class was reproduced, and she ran towards her professor, trying to knock him out cold.
A blue-coloured spell came out of nowhere on her right, and she had to dodge it in extremis. Seeing her professor literally dancing at that location, she shot a Petrificus Totalus and missed him. The rest was a one-sided humiliation, as she couldn't seem to touch Flitwick, who was too quick and swift to be touched by her spells. She was forced to roll, evade, dodge, and jump in pure desperation before finally taking a red light in her chest from her Head of House. Alexandra collapsed and lost consciousness.
"Ennervate!"
"Ahhhg..." Alexandra groaned. She was on her back, starring at the ceiling. Her vision was blurry for a few seconds, then she recovered enough to see her Professor standing over her. She tried to move, emitting another groan of pain.
"How long was I unconscious?" She asked, massaging her muscles to decrease the pain.
"One minute," Replied Flitwick with a big smile. "You are very inventive, Miss Potter and I must admit your over-powered Lumos took me quite by surprise."
"You toyed with me." Alexandra accused.
"Yes." Flitwick grinned at that. "Don't sell yourself too short, Miss Potter, unless there was something very wrong with me, a first-year should not be able to best a Professor. Even with seventh-year students, I am not seriously threatened when we make friendly duels to see their casting skills and endurance. Though you have the potential to be more dangerous than them, I must admit."
Seeing her standing on her legs again without any help, Flitwick smiled again.
"Five minutes of analysis, and then we will have a second match. That will be all for the lesson today."
Alexandra groaned again wondering what she had done in a past life to deserve this treatment. She had thought her teacher was a sadist at the very beginning of this session and now she had the confirmation. Though Flitwick was a Duellist champion, he was also an excellent analyst, explaining that she had excellent precision but that she needed to eat a lot more food at each meal. Readying her wand, Alexandra prepared herself for a second dolorous meeting with the floor, which happened indeed twenty-six seconds later. She managed to get back to her bedroom on her own, but she couldn't have beaten a kitten in duel after that, much less Hogwarts students.
7 September 1991, Paris, France
Two people were walking on the street's pavement as the sun set in a crimson colour over Paris. In itself, the sight was not worthy of any inquiries despite the rather late hour. The City of Lights was excellent for shopping, and thousands of people were still outside at this time of day. It was only if an observer examined the scene with acute attention that there would have some anomalies to report. First, the two individuals were wearing clothes which could have been considered the norm in the eighteenth century at the court of a French King. More curious was the fact that no one noticed them or made a single remark on their getup. Even when a middle-aged lady just missed crashing into them. And third was their unreal appearance. One was a woman with blonde-hair and blue eyes, looking like she belonged in a magazine for super-models rather than the average street they were walking down. Her companion was less beautiful, but with average blond hair and piercing brown eyes, he was hardly unremarkable.
"Are you sure we have not made a mistake, dear?" The voice of the woman was cultured and aristocratic; the type one person rarely had the occasion to hear today.
"Concerning what my dear?" asked her companion with an amused tone.
"Trusting Albus Dumbledore? Bribing the Goblins? Conspiring against the King?" The woman's smirk could not have been more evident.
"It is not like we had a lot of choices, my dear. I know it took me a long time to guess the plans of this madman, but..."
"But we can't let his projects come to fruition? Even if we contributed to funding them in the first place?"
"Exactly. I have no love for the Goblins or the Muggles, but what the King has prepared for our world is too horrible to become reality. And as much as I hate it, letting one of our Stones fall into Albus' hands was perhaps one of the easiest way to hamper His plans."
"I don't like it," said the beautiful blonde woman. "There are a lot of things which could go terribly wrong."
"I don't like it either," admitted the man with a roll of his shoulders. "But Albus is one of the rare wizards the eleven other Knights won't dare to attack openly. They remember what happened to Grindelwald and they know it won't be easy to defeat him."
"Unless the King decides to deal with him personally."
"Yes," sighed the man many knew as Nicholas Flamel. "But I don't think he's ready to come out of the shadows. Yet."
