Charms and Transfiguration were easily his favorite classes. Practical wand work was fun, and it was easy for him. It didn’t hurt that he was spending more and more time in the Room of Requirement of late. He was now almost done with the fifth-year curriculum for those classes. The fifth-year Transfiguration schedule had some extremely difficult work, such as Vanishing spells. Even with his ability to concentrate being what it was, Harry found these to be quite a task. But, he reflected, he was only a first-year after all. Certainly by the time his fifth-year actually began, he’d be proficient.
Defense Against the Dark Arts was a joke. Harry thought it might be a class he would like with a competent teacher, but for now he had Professor Quirrell. The class consisted of reading about various dark creatures, and learning the theory of how to best protect yourself against them. Harry thought that for first years, the theory could be best summed up in one word: Avoid. It didn’t help matters that Professor Quirrell seemed to be scared of the students, much less the subject. He would stammer through the subject material, barely able to speak about it, and it was even worse when people asked questions. Sometimes, he was unable to give any answer at all. Worse still, his aura was the strangest thing Harry had ever seen. It was weak, and it flickered constantly. Moreover, it seemed to be split between two distinctly different signatures. One of them was even weaker, but what little he felt was as dark as pitch. Harry had no idea what to make of it, but it felt ominous all the same.
Potions class was just as bad as he’d feared it would be; in some ways it wasn’t as bad as DADA, but in most it was worse. By paying acute attention to detail and staying on task, Harry was able to complete the in-class assignments reasonably well, if not spectacularly. But Professor Snape made it difficult to bear. Harry felt the man was little more than a bully. He ridiculed students’ efforts when they were doing poorly, made snide remarks to some even if they were succeeding, and generally made himself look like he shouldn’t be within miles of a classroom. Harry wondered long and hard why he was still teaching. He decided that either the Headmaster had his reasons, or was unaware of what the classes were like. Harry found the latter distinctly unlikely.
On the very first day, the man had asked Harry four difficult questions that he only had known by virtually memorizing the Potions and Herbology texts. And when Harry had correctly answered three of them, the man had called him a “know-it-all” and docked Ravenclaw five points. Privately, Harry believed most of the students wouldn’t have been able to answer any at all, but he kept this to himself.
Well, Harry thought as he used a Severing Charm to cut parchment into strips as Professor Flitwick demonstrated, the man could be a spiteful bully all he wanted. Harry had bigger worries than a grown man’s pettiness.
Astronomy was only interesting when looking through the telescope. Herbology was only interesting when working with the plants. In-class assignments for both were dry, but at least the teachers were passionate about the subject and willing to help those who needed it.
Flying was, to Harry, totally extraneous. He knew how to fly without a broom, and so he didn’t need a broom. But this needed to be kept quiet, and so he pretended to be enthusiastic.
Easily the worst class was History of Magic, which was taught by a ghost named Professor Binns, who somehow made the material even more dead than he was. He would float in front of the class reading notes from a stack in a toneless, empty voice; never looking up. The students, including Harry, would fight to stay awake. Harry decided after a week that he would drop this class the instant he could. Unfortunately, that wouldn't be for five whole years.
Professor Flitwick toured the classroom, checking students' progress on the Severing Charm he'd assigned. He then returned to the front of the room. "Wonderful! All of you are working very well, and all of you are working the charm properly. Since we only have about fifteen more minutes, you can all talk amongst yourselves until the end, or work on assignments for other classes if you see a need."
As usual in Charms, Harry was sitting at a table with Gryffindor Ron Weasley. Harry and Ron had struck up a friendship in the last month or so, and they usually worked at the same table in Charms, and sometimes in Transfiguration. Harry thought that Ron had a fine sense of humor and a...presence...of a sort. He thought it might have been interesting if the two of them were in the same house, but that wasn't to be.
"Harry, want to see something neat?" Ron was speaking to him. Harry noticed that Ron had a glint in his eyes and a grin wider than normal.
Harry nodded. Ron's grin became wider still, as he pulled something from an inner pocket of his robes. The "something" turned out to be a large rat. But it was like no rat Harry had yet seen. For example, it was almost perfectly white. Almost all the rats Harry had seen thus far were grey or black.
"I found a spell yesterday to turn him white, to make him more interesting: a Color-Change Charm. I don't know when we cover these. It took more than an hour, but I got it!"
Harry smiled. This was a good piece of work on Ron's part. A Color-Change Charm was in the second-year curriculum. That Ron managed it a year early led Harry to believe he could be a powerful wizard, one day. He gave Ron a thumbs-up, then asked if he could hold the rat. Ron handed the large rat over.
Harry held the rat in his hands. Now that he could look at him up close, he could see things that his eyes might not have caught before, when he wasn't paying as close attention. There were, in the white coat, a few grey hairs, which suggested that either the rat was getting old, or the spell hadn't worked perfectly, or possibly both. Curiously, the rat was also missing a toe on a front paw. He filed the rest of his observations away as the class wound down, and he returned the rat to its owner. Something was amiss and he intended to find out whatever it was, or else.
~_~
And then in the space of a day, the world grew a great deal lighter.
~_~
It was in the headline of the Daily Prophet the very next day.
SIRIUS BLACK PARDONED
For ten years, wizarding society has known Sirius Black, last surviving member of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, to be a Death Eater and mass murderer. Horrifying evidence has come forth that Black did not commit the thirteen murders for which he was imprisoned in November 1981, or that he was, indeed, ever a follower of You-Know-Who. Still more shocking is that one of the murders appears not to have taken place to begin with.
Here is the terrible story that we know so well: ten years ago, only a day after the downfall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Sirius Black was captured alive in London, having blown up a street, killing twelve innocent Muggles and one wizard with a single curse. That wizard, Peter Pettigrew, had shouted out that Black had betrayed James Potter and wife Lily Potter, then recently deceased parents of Harry James Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. Black went for his wand, and blasted Pettigrew to pieces, taking half the street and twelve Muggles with him. Black then began to laugh, and was taken away by twenty members of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad, still laughing maniacally.
Now here is the even more horrible truth: Black was framed by Pettigrew for his own murder and the murders of twelve innocent Muggles, as well as for betraying the Potters. Pettigrew, who had been posthumously awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class, was captured alive at Hogwarts yesterday. Under Veritaserum, in the supervision of new Minister of Magic Cornelius Oswald Fudge and longtime Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Amelia Susan Bones, and longtime Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus P.W.B. Dumbledore, Pettigrew confessed. Pettigrew had been the Potters' Secret Keeper and he betrayed them to You-Know-Who. Pettigrew blew up the London street, killing twelve Muggles and appearing to be killed himself. And it was Pettigrew, not Black, who had been the Death Eater in the first place.
Minister Fudge called the news "horrible, absolutely shocking", and "one of the worst things I've heard in my life". D.M.L.E Head Bones called the news "very grave". But it was Dumbledore who gave the best quote: "Justice delayed is justice denied, but Sirius Black may have justice today."
Black was released from Azkaban yesterday night. He gave a statement as well, but it was distinctly unprintable.
Harry stopped reading there, and smiled to himself. In the space of a day, the world had grown a great deal lighter.
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(Posted Tue, 03 Feb 2004 22:14)
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