"Be sure to read through chapter six thoroughly, you will have a quiz on boggarts. Written, not practical yet. Questions? Concerns? Conundrums? Cries of Outrage?" Matthew asked. A hand went up in the back.
"Yes, Mr. Creevey?"
"Is it true you're an auror from the United States?"
"It is Mr. Creevey. Anyone else?" Not a twitch. The bell rang at that moment. "Good. Class dismissed,"
There was a general chatter of wishing him well as the students departed for lunch. Matthew made his way over to his desk and reread the letter that he had received from one Remus Lupin. It explained what each year of the student body had been working on when he had departed. He also read the letter he had received from Dumbledore, which asked him to teach what was at minimum a sixth-year topic if Lupin's letters were anything to go by, as if he were teaching future aurors rather than students to fourth-years. Internally he thought that was a mistake, but it made sense. The entirety of this term's fourth-years were going to be in an accelerated course, because of a certain student. Matthew looked at the attendance sheet for his next class this afternoon.
"Harry Potter, the boy who lived," Matthew muttered to himself as he stared at the name. He had received a lone briefing from Dumbledore on the boy, he wasn't really up to date on current events in Europe. Supposedly there had been multiple incidents ever since Potter started attending three years ago. In his first year, Voldemort had made a move for the philosopher's stone via a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor of that year, Quirinus Quirrell. While he had never heard of Quirrel, he had heard of Voldemort. That set alarm bells off in his head. He immediately compiled an intelligence dispatch request for the Congressional Intelligence Commission on everything Dumbledore had discussed with him which included Harry Potter, Azkaban, Sirius Black, The Chamber of Secrets, and The Ministry of Magic. What he had received was a worrying report.
His IDR came back pending completion, as it had sparked an entirely new investigation. Voldemort had initially been believed to be a dark wizard that the Ministry of Magic was hesitant to move against as any move against him would be a political nightmare in terms of internal backlash. That was what Ministry reports said every time the MCUSA offered assistance. Those were complete fabrications. Voldemort had been a blood purist cult leader with an unhealthy obsession with snakes and he murdered anyone who got in his way. The wizarding world of the United Kingdom had been in mortal peril for almost a decade and the Ministry of Magic was too proud to admit they couldn't handle it. With his IDR, he had also received a new assignment. An investigation into the European Wizarding World to see if MCUSA needed to act. He had been reactivated as an auror, abroad, and currently teaching almost three hundred students. What a nightmare.
Matthew let out a groan and put the letters down, pinching the bridge of his nose. Now he had to consider another prospect, how much did he tell Dumbledore?
"P-professor?"
Matthew turned to see a third-year Hufflepuff student whom he had dismissed five minutes ago.
"Ms. Passel, how can I help?" he asked with a smile.
"I was just wondering what office hours are, but, is everything all right?" she asked, not wanting to meet his eyes.
"Everything is fine, Ms. Passel," Matthew assured her with a smile, his eyes drifting back to the documents on his desk. "This is my first teaching position, it's taking some getting used to. But to your question. My office hours are eight o'clock in the evening to ten o'clock in the evening on weekdays, and one o'clock in the afternoon to five o'clock in the evening on weekends. I will be more than happy to provide any necessary notes after curfew to get you back to your common room without incurring the ire of Mr. Filch. Was there anything else?"
"Oh, I saw the sign. I'm asking what office hours are," she said, quietly.
Matthew had to pause. "Office hours are when students can come to me with any questions or work they're having trouble with," Matthew answered. "Do other professors not have office hours?" he asked. She shook her head.
"Interesting. They were the norm at Ilvermony," Matthew muttered to himself.
"Ilvermony?" Passel asked.
"That's where I studied years ago. House Wampus," Matthew explained. "Was there anything else you needed?"
"Uh, no sir," she answered.
"In that case, enjoy your lunch," he said smiling once more and waving at her retreating form.
"I might go grab a bite myself," Matthew said aloud before striding out of the room.
Matthew traveled through the castle, passing by many students who were also heading for the great hall to partake in lunch. As he came up to the great hall from a staircase, a group of Gryffindors and Slytherins appeared to be butting heads outside of the Great Hall. The two Gryffindors, one a girl with curly, bushy hair, the other a boy with black hair we're holding back a third who had red hair. While he couldn't see their faces, he could hear laughter from the Slytherins. The one in the center had a newspaper. He had platinum blonde hair and a pale complexion. Two Slytherins were flanking him, both laughing with him, presumably at the Gryffindor redhead. The Gryffindors finally forced their friend away, but not before the one with black hair got a final remark in before turning around. The Slytherin with blonde hair drew his wand.
"Difindo!" The Slytherin boy shouted. The white concentration of energy screamed towards the Gryffindor boy, whom Matthew realized was Harry Potter as he turned around. Matthew raised two fingers and focused on the cutting spell. A thin red line of magical energy connected his fingers to the spell before strengthening and blasting the spell out of the air with a flash. Every student was now staring at him with wide eyes.
"It is my understanding that your behavior is in violation of multiple rules," Matthew said cooly, keeping his fingers aimed at the Slytherin boy. Matthew's hand dropped to his side. He stalked down the stairs, coming right up to the Slytherin boy, who was now quivering.
"What is your name?" Matthew asked. The boy didn't answer, but he was now regaining his composure. A smirk tugged at the edge of his mouth. He was being intentionally defiant.
"For every second you fail to answer, I will deduct a point from Slytherin," Matthew said, his expression unchanging. The Slytherin boy gaped.
"You can't do that!"
"Oh, I can. And I am. Clock's ticking," Matthew said, beginning to tap his foot on the floor with an audible click every second. The faces of every Slytherin present fell further and further as the boy continued his wavering defiance.
"Professor Nichols?" came a hesitant voice behind Matthew. He turned around to see Professor McGonagall watching the situation with uncertainty from the top of the stairs he was just on.
"Ah, Professor McGonagall," Matthew greeted, continuing to tap his foot. "Do you know the name of this student?" he asked, motioning to the boy behind him.
"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy," she answered.
"Good," Matthew's foot tapping ceased as he turned back to Malfoy. "Twenty-seven points from Slytherin and detention, Mr. Malfoy," Matthew said. Malfoy opened his mouth to respond but he was interrupted. "Using spells in the hallways is frowned upon. Attacking a classmate, regardless of their comments, is unacceptable. Using a dangerous spell, Difindo, for such an act, even more so. I hope you understand the severity of your actions," Matthew said.
"You just wait until my father hears about this!" Malfoy fumed.
"And pray tell, who is your father?" Matthew asked.
"Lucius Malfoy. We're purebloods," Malfoy said, thinking his blood status might curry some favor.
"Never heard of him. You will report to Mr. Filch's office at nine o'clock this evening. Unless you have a real threat, you're dismissed, Mr. Malfoy," Matthew said, leaving no room for argument. Malfoy sputtered but left quite quickly, the two boys flanking him were quick to follow.
"You handled that very well, Professor Nichols," McGonagall said approvingly. Matthew only offered a shrug and turned for the Great Hall. An excited buzz broke out among the student body that had amassed during the altercation. The terms "wordless" and "wandless" were thrown around as Matthew and McGonagall entered the Great Hall. Matthew could make out some of the crowd were trying to speak with him, but he paid them no mind. If it was questions about wordless and wandless magic they would be asked during classes if the students were interested enough.
"OI YANK!"
Matthew froze. McGonagall whipped around with burning eyes, ready to hand out a proper word lashing. A hush fell over the gathered students. They collectively flinched when Matthew also turned around, albeit much more slowly.
"Who said that?" Matthew asked, his voice calm. No one moved.
"Professor Nichols, I don't think they meant anything by it," McGonagall said, now glancing at Matthew. But fingers we're already pointing. The redhead from earlier was the culprit, though he looked much less confident than he did when he must have yelled that.
"And you are?"
"Weasely. Ron Weasely, sir," A smile broke out across Matthew's face and to everyone's astonishment he began to chuckle.
"Five points to Gryffindor, Mr. Weasely, for boldness," Matthew said, still smiling.
"Oh, er… thank you, sir. But my friend had a question for you," Weasely said, motioning to Potter.
"What spell did you use?" Potter blurted out.
"One of my own design, Mr. Potter," Matthew said. "You'll learn about it this afternoon I reckon. Until then, enjoy your lunch," Matthew said with a smile before turning away, McGonagall matching his pace into the Great Hall.
"I thought that name was offensive?" McGonagall asked,
"It was intended to be, but if you could get your enemy to write a song about how annoying you are, you're probably doing something right. We take pride in that, Professor McGonagall," Matthew answered with a smile.
"Just Minerva is fine,"
"Just Matthew, then"
A/N: This one was fun to write