-CHAPTER SIX-
-PROFESSOR HARDBROOM-
"What lesson do we have first?" Rodney asked as he pulled his Hogwarts robes on. "That was some sleep. I don't think I ever woke up."
James agreed; the timetable of their lessons had been packed with their trunk and things. James picked up the sheet of parchment. Monday to Friday, explained each day and each lesson. "We've first got Defence Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Herbology and then Charms to finish the day off."
"Who are those with?"
"Defence Against the Dark Arts are with Slytherin, same with Potion, Herbology is with the Hufflepuffs and Charms is with Ravenclaws. Our first flying lesson is tomorrow with Slytherin."
"I'm dreading that," Rodney complained. "I'll look like right a fool in front of Malfoy, and he won't let me forget it."
"Plenty of people haven't ridden a broom," James tried to reassure Rodney who looked white in the face. "You'll be fine."
The two boys were the last to leave the boy's dormitory. They waited at the staircase to the girl's room.
"She hasn't slept in, has she?" Rodney croaked.
"Penelope? No," James said with a laugh. "I'd be worried if she had."
A door creaked open above them, and Victoire Weasley appeared at the top of the staircase. Her teeth were brushed, her hair neatly pulled back, and her steps were so graceful she seemed to float as she came down. The gleaming Head Girl badge pinned to her chest caught the morning light.
"Morning, James," she said warmly, stepping forward to hug him.
James stiffened, his cheeks flushing as Rodney let out a mischievous giggle. He quickly pushed her away, muttering something under his breath while shooting Rodney a glare.
"Too old to give your cousin a hug?" Victoire teased, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. Her eyes were glimmering in the sunlight poking through the window of the staircase that led to the dorm rooms. Most of the Gryinffdor Tower had already left.
"No, just not in front of Rodney," James hissed, his face reddening. "Have you seen Penelope?"
"Penelope?" Victoire repeated, her voice questioning and scrunching her face up. Even when she did scrunch her face up, she still looked beautiful. "Short girl, glasses, black hair? That Penelope?"
"That's her!" Rodney blurted out, his excitement cutting through the moment. "Where did she go?"
She was the first one up," Victoire said thoughtfully and thought of who they were talking about. "Glasses, black hair, short."
"Yeah!" Rodney shouted and pumped his fist in the air, forcing a soft giggle from Victoire.
"She was up before anyone else. I think she never slept, either too excited or worried about Hogwarts. I remember my first night in Hogwarts; I packed my stuffed animal and lay awake, crying softly because I missed my mum and our dog."
"What pet do you have now?"
"An owl, like most people," Victoire said, and another girl shouted at her from the entrance of the Common Room. "I would love to chat, but my friends are calling me.
She left the Common Room before turning around, "James, if you need anything or if anyone is picking on you, you tell me or Teddy."
The Fat Lady swung open, and she left them.
"Is she your cousin?"
"It's complained. Her mother is Fleur Delacour; she's married to Bill, who is my mother's brother."
"Your family must be huge. Mine is quite small."
James and Rodney soon left the Gryinffdor Tower, stepping onto the Grand Staircase. They paused for a moment, peering down at the maze of steps and staircases below them. Nervousness crept in as some of the stairs jolted and twisted abruptly to the right, the ancient staircase groaning in protest.
Without hesitation, James began hurrying down the staircase, his feet bouncing despite the shifting steps. Behind him, Rodney gasped, clutching the stone banister tightly as he struggled to keep up, his footsteps clumsy and uneven against the steps.
Out of nowhere, Peeves the Poltergeist appeared, cackling gleefully as he aimed a water balloon at the two Gryinffdor students who were waiting for the staircase to move back. With a wicked grin, he hurled it straight at Rodney's back.
The balloon exploded on impact, drenching Rodney in an icy splash. He let out a startled gasp as cold water ran down his neck and soaked into his robes, leaving his hair plastered to his head. Peeves howled with laughter, doing jumps and circles in the air as Rodney stood frozen in shock and shivering on the stone steps. Cold water drenched him.
"Peeves," James said sharply and warned him.
"What are you going to do about it, Potter?" Peeves cackled, his mischievous grin widening as he hurled another water balloon in their direction.
The balloon flew toward James with dangerous speed, but at the last moment, it swerved sharply to the left as if guided by someone other than Peeves. It struck the portrait of a sleeping man in an armchair, exploding with a loud pop.
Water sprayed across the canvas, soaking the painted figure, who jolted awake with a spluttering gasp. "What in Merlin's name?" the man gasped and bellowed out, failing his arms as water fell from his beard. Peeves was hovering in front of the portrait and clapping in delight.
"PEEVES!" the man roared, his voice echoing down to the bottom of the staircase, waking up many sleeping portraits.
"What time is it?" one of them asked, muttering and rubbing his eyes. He glanced up. "PEEVES!"
Peeves cackled and laughed as he darted through James, leaving him shivering violently. A bone-deep chill spread through his body, numb, biting hard as though he had just been plunged into an icy lake in the dead of winter.
The staircase began to reset itself, grinding and groaning with a deep and ancient sound that echoed and rattled the old stones and brick through the tower. James and Rodney looked at each other before bolting downwards to beat the staircase.
They reached as fast as they could, desperate to reach the bottom before the staircase shifted again or worse before Peeves reappeared with more water balloons.
The Great Hall was bustling with life, every table filled with students scattered across its length. Laughter and chatter echoed through the air as people ate, drank and talked quickly. Some leaned over their plates, read their timetables and had their faces etched with worry or excitement.
The tables were covered with a wide range of breakfast foods: crispy bacon, black pudding, haggis, baked beans, sausage, toast, fluffy crumpets, and pitchers of orange juice. They spotted Penelope sitting alone at the Gryinffdor table, quietly eating a bowl of cornflakes, her gaze fixed on the cereal as she lost herself in thought.
Rodney dropped onto the bench with a thud, quickly grabbing a plate. His stomach growled loudly, and he wasted no time piling it high with food. Bacon, sausages, hash browns, two fried eggs, haggis, toast, mushrooms, and tomatoes formed a towering heap before him.
James, meanwhile, sat down more casually, taking two pieces of toast and buttering them very thickly. He glanced around, thinking the Great Hall would be fuller than this, but quickly reminded himself that there were only twenty minutes. He nibbled on the toast.
"Are you looking forward to your first lesson, Penelope?" James asked, his voice slightly muffed by the mouthful of toast he was chewing.
"Are you looking forward to your first lesson, Penelope?" James asked, his voice slightly muffled by the mouthful of toast he was chewing. Crumbs tumbled from his lips onto the table as he spoke.
"I am," Penelope replied and nodded to the staff table. "Professor Hardbroom does look strict."
The boys followed her eyes until they stopped at the staff table. Most of the staff tables were empty, and Hagrid wasn't even there. But Professor Hardbroom was sat by herself, carving into her sausage and forking it onto the fork.
Rodney's stomach flipped as his eyes lingered on Professor Hardbroom. The thought of the upcoming lesson with her filled him with dread and a heavy knot tightened in his gut. The sight of her stern expression, sharp gaze, and the way she carried herself made his mouth go dry. He glanced down at his plate, where a single strip of bacon lay untouched. Normally, he would have finished it without a second thought, but the queasiness rising in his chest left him unable to stomach another bite.
With a quiet sigh, he pushed the plate away.
James's eyes drifted to Rodney's plate, where the last strip of bacon sat surrounded by dots of red sauce. He raised an eyebrow, swallowing the bite of toast he'd been chewing.
"You're not going to finish that," he asked, half-teasing and half-shocked. From what he saw last night at the feast, apart from the vanishing roast chicken and the food on the Hogwarts Express, Rodney never left food behind. Bacon was the food he had mentioned the most when going down the staircase.
Rodney shook his head, his face pale. "I can't," he told and whispered so nobody on the table or Professor Hardbroom could hear him. "Just... thinking about the lesson is making me feel sick."
James grinned. "Hardbroom can't be that bad. She's not going to eat you alive," James said but looked up at the table and watched her roughly swallow a sausage.
Rodney didn't look up from his empty plate, hating that he had left one piece of bacon.
"She might if she eats a sausage like she does a classroom," James laughed and flashed a crooked grin as he nodded toward Professor Hardbroom.
Rodney didn't laugh. Instead, he sank lower in his seat, his eyes darting nervously back to the stern figure at the staff table. "That's not helping," he muttered.
"She might if she always looks like that," James quipped, flashing a crooked grin as he nodded toward Professor Hardbroom.
Rodney didn't laugh. Instead, he sank lower in his seat, his eyes darting nervously back to the stern figure at the staff table. "That's not helping," he muttered.
The bell rang for the lessons, and the Great Hall emptied. They quickly made their way up to the third floor and made their way to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, which was every bit as daunting as James had imagined. The high, arched windows only allowed silvers of light to seep through and barely lit up the chairs and desks. Shelves crammed together, filled with tomes and jars of murky and dark water. James was sure that the place had to get lighter, and a few torches or candles had to be lit.
At the front of the room stood a spotless blackboard, its surface so clean that it almost looked like it had never been used. There were no white chalk lines anywhere. Dust came up from the floorboards as the students found their seats. James and Rodney found a seat in the middle, while Penelope had to share a desk with Slytherin, who looked most displeased.
The door at the back of the room slammed open with a deafening BANG!
Every student jumped in their seats, and tense silence fell over the classroom as if a tall and stern woman had swept in. Her black robes billowed behind her like a storm, each step making sure that people were looking at her. Her untidy and greying hair was pulled into a bun so tight that her features were broadened and sharpened.
"I am Professor Hardbroom," she told them and cut to the back of the room without even fully opening her mouth. "This is Defence Against the Dark Arts. You are here to learn how to defend yourself against dark magic that looks to harm, control, or destroy. You will only pass this class if you are capable."
Penelope lifted her hand.
"Question, Nightdusk?"
"Yes, Professor Hardbroom. What I was wondering was that with all the dark wizards locked away, there hasn't been an attack in about ten years. Do we need to learn any skills to protect ourselves against dark magic?"
Professor Hardbroom's lips curled into a sneer. "Do you think you know more than the Ministry of Magic?"
Penelope went bright red.
"No," Penelope stuttered.
"If you don't," Professor Hardbroom said, still sneering at her. "Why are you asking questions that you know nothing about?"
"She only asked a question, and I think it's a pretty damn good question," James said.
"Silence, Potter!" Professor Hardbroom.
Her gaze swept across the room like a hawk watching its prey, glaring at James. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and her thin lips curled into a faint, disapproving frown before she moved on.
James shifted nervously in his seat, feeling her cold eyes linger on him even after she had moved to another table. He cast a nervous glance at Rodney, who could only offer a weak and helpless shrug.
Professor Hardbroom strode to the blackboard and flicked her wand with a sharp motion. James was surprised that she hadn't opened her mouth when white chalk sprang to life, lifting in the air and scribbling on the blackboard. It followed the way Professor Hardbroom's wand was moving. Now, on the blackboard, read "Defensive Theory and Practical Applications."
"This is not the class for pranks and funny business," Professor Hardbroom said, dropping her wand and the piece of chalk floated to its pot hanging on the edge of the blackboard. "Nor is it a place where fame or reputation will protect you. In this room, there are no special treatments, no matter what your family name is," and with that statement, flashed a look at James. "Fame isn't everything."
James's stomach tightened as a few students turned to glance his way. He kept his focus on the front as his hands gripped the edge of his desk.
Professor Hardbroom resumed pacing at the front of the room, her boots clicking sharply against the stone floor. "You will be tested mentally, physically and mentally. Discipline and respect are your only allies here. Without them, you will fail. There will be foolish wand waving in my classroom. You pick your wands up when I tell you. Fail any of my instructions like that, and it will be a detention."
She stopped to look back at the class. "Let us begin. Wands on your desk."
The students hurried to comply, each carefully placing their wand in front of them. Rodney pulled his wand out so quickly that it flew out of his hand, crashed to the ground, and set off a spark that barely did anything to the wooden desk. He got up, shaking, picked up his wand, and placed it back down on his desk.
"Havisham, isn't it?" Professor Hardbroom asked.
"Yes," Rodney squeaked.
"Please be more careful next time; I don't want either you, your classmate or myself to be struck in the eye by one of your pathetic spells. I mean, with your talent, it probably wouldn't even remove my eyebrows."
"Yes, Professor Hardbroom," he said and felt as if the haggis could come back up.
"Potter, are you not going to take your wand? I remember not following a teacher's instruction," she hummed.
James put his wand down on the desk for all to see. Professor Hardbroom was checking over people's wands, commenting on the wands and how they looked. "Ah, Mr. Potter. Your wand looks to be mahogany," she said and smiled. "It's a bit lacklustre to your father. Phoenix feather, twins, one feather in Harry's wand and the other in Lord Voldemort."
A few people trembled in their seats.
"Do you think you can handle some basic spells that a toddler could use?"
"I'll try."
Professor Hardbroom's lips twitched as though pleased by his word. "We shall see," she said softly, and her tone was like ice.
She swished her wand, forcing the desks to be swept to the side. For the next hour, the class was put through their paces, starting with the basic shield charms. Professor Hardbroom showed with a swift flick of her wand, conjuring a shimmering barrier of light that hovered in the air before her.
"Protego!" she barked. "It's a simple shield charm that can protect against most spells and. If the shield is not strong enough, you could be hurt, seriously injured or killed."
James and Rodney stood on either side of each other, facing each other with their wands. James gripped his wand tightly, thinking about the spell and the words. "Protego!" he said firmly, and a faint, weak, but flickering barrier appeared in front of him, shimmering unnaturally. It looked as if someone had put a tiny sun behind a glass window.
"Not bad," Rodney whispered to James as his own shield charm wobbled, cracked and then shattered right in front of him. Rodney had to jump as the shards of glass came at him.
Professor Hardbroom mocked Rodney first. "Havisham, bad mistake. You could have blinded yourself," she said with a sneer and then turned to see James, his shield weak and fading but still fighting to be shown. "Is that the best you can do, Mr. Potter?" she snapped. "Your father mastered this charm by the time he was your age."
James frowned. "My father didn't learn until he was in his fourth year, and it was taught to him by his friend, Hermione Granger."
"Ah, Mrs. Granger," Professor Hardbroom spat through her clenched teeth. Her face flushed with a bright red colour. "Five points from Gryffindor for your cheek."
"I..."
"Shut it, James!" Penelope cried from her table. "If you keep losing points for silly things, we will never win the House Cup."
"Listen to Miss Nightdusk, James," Professor Hardbroom said. "She might save your life one day."
"I think that was unfair," Rodney said when Professor Hardbroom was inspecting two Slytherin students who couldn't even perform a single wisp of smoke from their wands, never mind the start of a gleaming shield.
James looked pleased when Professor Hardbroom complained that Malfoy's shield would not be able to withstand a bit of rain, let alone a spell from a dark wizard. He scowled and looked defeated.
The lesson continued, and James didn't talk as much as Rodney did, as he was trying to focus on making his shield charm better. While, Rodney, who had talked, whispered, chatted, every time Professor Hardbroom was away or looking at something else.
"James," he said, almost not whispering. "I think she hates you," Rodney muttered and glancing nervously toward the front of the room. Professor Hardbroom was standing near the blackboard, the white chalk moving to her wand. "I think she hates you."
Turning around at the noise in the back of the class, Professor Hardbroom glared. "Mr. Havisham!" she snapped, her piercing gaze locking onto Rodney. The entire class froze, their wands hovering in the air. "Are you under the impression that this is a social gathering?"
Rodney turned scarlet, his wand almost falling out of his head. "No-no, Professor," he stammered, but most people in the room did not hear him.
"Speak up!" Professor Hardbroom said. She strode toward the back of the room and stopped directly in front of Rodney, towering over him. "Then perhaps you can explain why you find it appropriate to talk during my class. What did you whisper to Mr. Potter?"
"Nothing," Rodney squeaked. "I was just talking about the charm."
"Silence," Professor Hardbroom said and raised a hand to silence him. "If you have time to talk, then clearly, you've already mastered the shield charm. In front of me, Mr. Havisham."
Rodney stood in front of her, nearly slipping on the stone floor. His legs seemed not to work.
"What do you want me to do?" he asked with a terrible gasp.
"Conjure a shield charm."
Rodney swallowed hard, his hands shaking as he raised his wand. "P-Protego!" he said, and his voice quivered.
A faint shimmer of light sparkled at the tip of his wand. It looked as if the shield was going to be formed, only to fizzle out almost immediately. The room was quiet, a few students exchanging sympathetic glances while others looked away awkwardly. Penelope swallowed hard and saw the heartbroken look on Rodney's face. James wished that she had talked about him.
Grinning, Professor Hardbroom arced a single brow, her expression a cold mixture of disappointment and mockery. "Pathetic," she said coldly. "If that is what you can conjure, Mr Havisham, I suggest you spend less time gossiping and more time practicing.
Rodney nodded quickly, his face beet red as he sat down the moment she turned away. James sat down next to her.
"Magic is not something that can be made fun of. If you make a mistake, you can die. Look at
"Professor Hardbroom," Penelope said and hadn't put her hand up.
"Your hand is not up, Miss Nightdusk," Professor Hardbroom said, waiting until Penelope raised her hand.
"Do you have another pointless question?"
"It's not pointless," Penelope said with a faint scowl on her face. "You expect us, as a first year, to learn and master something that a fifth year hasn't been learned. I would love to see where the Ministry of Magic has instructed the lesson to be based around OWL spells."
"Are you questioning my teaching?" Professor Hardbroom said, and her eyes flashed darkly. Her hand trembled near her wand, and James thought she was about to send a spell directly at her.
"I am. If you were a good enough teacher, instead of being a horrible one and expecting us to learn magic while you're just pacing back and forth, then Rodney might learn something. Everyone is different. People learn at different speeds."
"What did you just say to me?" Miss Nightdusk?" Professor Hardbroom asked, and her voice was snapping. She looked shocked and outraged that someone would dare say anything back to her.
Penelope didn't flinch, though her hands were clenched into fists at her sides. She straightened her back and repeated herself, her voice steady and never shaking. Rodney didn't know she could be so calm with Professor Hardbroom staring directly at her. "I said, if you were a better teacher, instead of being rude to everyone, Rodney might have done better."
A collective gasp rippled through the room. Rodney's eyes widened in panic, and he shook his head slightly at Penelope, begging her to stop. James felt something swirling inside him, pride, shock, and horror bubbling up inside him. She's got guts, he thought, but this is not going to end well.
Professor Hardbroom's eyes glittered with a deadly look. "Miss Nightdusk," she said, her tone sharper than it had ever been, "You appear to be under the mistaken impression that I require input from you on my teaching methods. What do you know about teaching methods? Huh? This is your second day at Hogwarts, and you act like you've been here for three years. You speak like you know everything."
Penelope met Professor Hardbrooom's gaze head-on, her expression calm but firm. "I am under the impression that a good teacher encourages students to do better by showing them what to do.
The enchanted torches flickered to the side of Penelope.
Professor Hardbroom's face remained cold and stony. "It is not your place to critique how this classroom is run, Miss Nightdusk. I suggest you learn some manners before you speak out of turn again."
"I will only speak out of turn again if you start bullying us."
"Do you think I am bullying you when I am trying to get the best out of you? If I didn't show some stern discipline, you wouldn't learn anything. Please do not talk again in this class today, or it'll be five points from Gryinffdor.
Malfoy laughed in the corner.
"Ten points from Slytherin," Professor Hardbroom said as she sat down on the desk.
The grin had faded from Malfoy's face as quickly as it had appeared.
Professor Hardbroom's wand. The faint scratching of quills on parchment was the only other sound as the first years took notes from what was on the blackboard. Some students struggled that much, as they had only written half of the paragraph because it was moving to the next. James's quill was scratching out the key points that she would say as she read from the following book, "The Fundamentals of Shield Charms and Applications of Defensive Magic Against Common Threats."
Rodney, sitting beside him, was one of that was struggling to keep up, his quill smudging quickly. The word that he had just written, didn't make any sense because they were wrote in a quick scrawl of words.
"This is too fast," he whispered under his breath, his eyes darting between the board and his notes. He was now about two paragraphs behind. "I can't keep up."
"Mr. Havisham," Professor Hardbroom's cold voice came out of nowhere. Rodney's quill came out of his hand and fell to the ground. "Is there something more important than the lesson that you would like to share with the class?"
Rodney turned bright red, bowing his head and almost being swallowed up by the desk. "No, nothing," he blurted out.
Then I suggest you stop mumbling and focus," she said curtly, her tone sharp enough to make Rodney jump. "Unless you plan on failing your first essay."
James gritted his teeth, and Professor Hardbroom saw his expression face.
"Something to say, Mr. Potter?" Hardbroom asked.
She waited for him to respond.
"I'll take that as a no," she said softly. A triumphant smile flashed onto her face.
James swallowed hard.
"Now, Hardbroom said, stopping in front of the class, "you will each complete a two-foot essay on the theory behind the Protego charm, its practical applications and what can happen if the shield breaks."
"Homework on the first day?" a student from Slytherin complained.
"Two-foot essay," Professor Hardbroom stated, making sure everyone understood. "Remember, students. Magic without knowledge is a reckless thing, and magic without discipline is a dangerous thing."