Elfric the Eager
It was a crisp Sunday morning, and Hermione Granger was sitting in the History of Magic classroom, her books neatly arranged in front of her. The space was quiet and orderly, much like her mind—well, almost. She had prepared meticulously for this session. Today’s lesson would be on the Uprising of Elfric the Eager, an event that had fascinated her ever since she first read about it in her first year. The uprising, though not as well-known as other events in magical history, had been a turning point in the way the wizarding world dealt with magical rebellion. Elfric had been a particularly charismatic figure, leading a group of disenfranchised witches and wizards in an attempt to overthrow the Ministry’s laws regarding magical creatures. Despite the fascinating subject, Hermione had a nagging feeling in the back of her mind.
She had really hoped that this time Fred and George wouldn’t be late. After all, this was an important lesson. History of Magic wasn’t the most exciting of subjects for many students, and Hermione had put extra effort into making it engaging. She had even added some of her own notes, pulling from her research on the Uprising of Elfric, and was looking forward to sharing them with Fred and George. The twins, as mischievous as they were, had surprised her in their previous sessions by showing real interest in the material. This time, she wanted to see if they could live up to her expectations and show up on time.
The classroom was silent, save for the occasional crackle of the fire in the hearth and the soft rustle of Hermione’s notes. The walls were lined with portraits of long-dead wizards and witches, their eyes flicking toward her occasionally, but she barely noticed. She was focused—focused on the lesson, and more specifically, on ensuring Fred and George wouldn’t throw a wrench into her plans again. She checked her watch once more: 9:06 AM. The lesson was supposed to have started at 9:00 sharp.
With a sigh, Hermione leaned back in her chair, tapping her fingers lightly on the desk. Her thoughts drifted to the material she had prepared, and she mentally reviewed the notes she had on Elfric. He had such an interesting approach to magical creature rights… Hermione thought. She’d even made a list of key moments from the rebellion to keep track of the major events. She was proud of how she’d crafted the lesson, but she knew it would be a wasted effort if the twins were late again.
Another minute passed.
“Honestly,” she muttered under her breath. Another glance at the clock. Seven minutes late, she thought, shaking her head.
She could feel the nagging irritation creeping up, though she was still willing to give them a bit more leeway. She checked her watch again, and after a deep breath, prepared to start the lesson without them if they didn’t show in the next two minutes. It’s Sunday, she reminded herself. She had a right to be slightly flexible, right?
The door creaked open, and there they were. As usual, they entered with all the subtlety of a stampede. Fred was carrying a half-eaten chocolate frog, unbothered by the crumbs that fell from it as he took another bite, and George's wild, messy hair stood up in all the wrong places. It looked as though he’d run his hand through it at least five times, possibly in an effort to make himself look more presentable—though it was still a lost cause.
“We’re here!” George announced loudly, as if it were the most triumphant declaration of the day.
Hermione’s eyes twitched slightly at the booming voice, and she turned to give him an exasperated look, but couldn’t suppress a small smile that tugged at her lips. She had been bracing herself for this. They were late again.
“You’re seven minutes late,” she said, her tone the perfect balance of irritation and resignation, a slight raise of her brow making her disapproval clear.
Fred flashed her a sheepish grin, clearly unfazed by the reprimand. “In our defence, Granger, we were doing important research.” He took a dramatic bite of his chocolate frog, holding the piece aloft as if it were a trophy. “You know, for the next big thing we’re working on.”
Hermione shook her head, though she was trying her best to hide the small flicker of amusement that threatened to escape. “I really hope your ‘research’ isn’t going to interfere with your ability to focus today,” she said, glancing at her watch. “We’ve got a lot to cover.”
George, dropping into a chair next to Fred, snorted loudly, giving her an exaggerated wink. “Oh, don’t worry, Granger. We’ve got this,” he said, leaning back with all the nonchalance in the world. “Besides, History of Magic isn’t exactly the most riveting subject, is it?”
He smirked at Fred, who was still nibbling away at his chocolate frog. “No offense, of course,” George added, with a playful jab at Fred's half-eaten snack.
Fred raised both hands in mock surrender, grinning broadly. “None taken. We just thought we’d make it more interesting by arriving fashionably late. It’s an art form, you know?”
Hermione rolled her eyes, but her lips curled upward, betraying her mild amusement. Well, at least they’re in a good mood today, she thought. “Alright,” she began, straightening up and flipping open the first page of her neatly organized notes. She had planned for this lesson to be both interesting and informative, hoping to teach them about the Uprising of Elfric the Eager—a topic she had long been fascinated by. “Today we’re going to talk about the Uprising of Elfric the Eager. I know it’s not exactly the most glamorous or exciting of historical events, but it’s incredibly important. It’s one of the first instances in which the Ministry was directly challenged by a rebel force of witches and wizards.”
Fred raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Go on,” he said. “You’ve piqued my interest.”
Hermione smiled, feeling the rare warmth of success at their attention. “Well,” she began, her voice steady as she dove into the history, “Elfric was born in the early 1300s in a small village in the Midlands. He was a highly ambitious wizard—very eager to improve the living conditions of magical creatures who were being oppressed by the Ministry’s new regulations.” She paused for effect. “Elfric believed that magical creatures, such as house-elves and centaurs, should have equal rights to wizards and witches, and he wasn’t afraid to voice his opinions.”
The twins were both leaning forward now, clearly interested. This was the moment Hermione had been waiting for. “Eventually, his protests became more aggressive. By 1324, he had gathered a group of rebellious witches and wizards, and even magical creatures, to rise up against the Ministry and challenge its policies.”
George raised his hand, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Did he, by any chance, use any... innovative methods of warfare? You know, something that might have involved sneaky spells or, dare I say, pranks?”
Hermione shot him a pointed look but couldn’t help but laugh softly. She could see exactly where this was going, but she wasn’t about to let it derail the lesson. “Actually, yes. Elfric was known for his unorthodox tactics. He was brilliant when it came to using illusions to confuse his enemies. It’s not exactly a prank, but it’s certainly a bit like one. For instance, Elfric used a group of chimaeras to create an illusion of a massive, unstoppable army.” She leaned forward slightly, her eyes sparkling. “The Ministry’s soldiers were thrown off for days. They didn’t know whether they were seeing a real army or just a magical mirage. It was an incredibly effective tactic.”
Fred raised an eyebrow, genuinely impressed. “That’s... actually clever,” he muttered, now clearly engaged.
“I know,” Hermione said, her voice tinged with admiration for Elfric’s methods. “He was a master of psychological warfare. Not only did he use magic, but he understood how the mind worked. The fear of an overwhelming army is sometimes more powerful than the army itself.”
She straightened up again, now feeling confident that she was making her points clear. “This rebellion was one of the first times magical creatures were used so strategically in battle. Elfric led his troops—wizards, witches, and magical creatures—against the Ministry. But, unfortunately, it didn’t end well for him. The Ministry managed to quell the rebellion after a few months, and Elfric was eventually executed.”
Fred’s expression shifted momentarily to one of mock seriousness, clearly trying to be more thoughtful. “Poor guy. Not every uprising can be as successful as, say, our future business ventures.” He shot George a meaningful look, and the two burst into laughter.
Hermione narrowed her eyes but couldn’t help but smile at their antics. “Yes, well, not all rebellions end in success. But Elfric’s influence has been felt for centuries. The Ministry’s approach to magical creatures changed after the uprising, and it set the tone for how future uprisings would be handled.”
George leaned back in his chair, looking impressed—perhaps for the first time all morning. “You know, Granger,” he said, his tone quieter now, “I didn’t expect you to be so... enthusiastic about History of Magic. You’ve made it sound a lot more interesting than I thought it would be.”
Hermione shrugged modestly, though a satisfied smile tugged at her lips. “It’s all about finding the right angle,” she said, her voice softening as she looked between Fred and George. “If you study the why behind the event, it becomes a lot more engaging. History doesn’t have to be dry facts and dates. You just need to understand the context, the people, and the impact.”
Fred nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll give you that. Elfric might not have been a successful rebel, but he certainly made an impact.”
Hermione’s smile widened. “Exactly. And that’s why we study history—not just for the dates, but for the lessons we can learn. Even if we don’t agree with the methods, we can still appreciate the consequences.”
Fred raised his hand dramatically, his face suddenly stern and full of mock seriousness. “So, what you’re saying, Granger, is that we should use our brains more often, rather than just our pranking skills?”
Hermione, who had been expecting this, gave him a pointed look. “Yes, Fred. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Fred’s face broke into a wide grin, and he stood up with all the flair of someone announcing their retirement after a long, successful career. “Well then,” he said, holding out his arms as if he were addressing an invisible audience. “I think we’re ready to change the world!”
He and George exchanged a quick grin before slinking out of the room, their laughter echoing down the hallway as they disappeared from view.
Hermione stood there for a moment, staring after them with a bemused expression on her face. Despite everything—the late arrivals, the interruptions, and the inevitable jokes—she couldn’t help but feel a small sense of accomplishment. She had taught them something, even if it hadn’t been the lesson she had originally planned. And maybe, just maybe, the twins were learning more than they let on.