3 – Term’s Beginning
1 September 1972
Hogwarts
Sirius was bouncing in his seat, waiting for the first-years to arrive.
“Whoa, Siri, you’re energetic today,” Remus said with a laugh.
“Reggie is being sorted today and I’m excited to see where he ends up,” Sirius responded with a pout.
“Okay…” Remus shook his head.
Finally, the first years were brought in, and Sirius’ bouncing nearly got worse. Regulus was third, after Catherine Ainsley and Ingrid Bellevue.
When Minerva called out, “Black, Regulus,” James and Remus had to keep Sirius in his seat by force. Regulus’ sorting seemed to stretch out nearly forever for Sirius, until the hat finally said, “SLYTHERIN!”
Sirius’ applause was ridiculously loud, but that was his baby brother and the school could stuff it.
Once the sorting was over, Dumbledore stood. “Before we can tuck into our doubtlessly scrumptious dinner, I have a few announcements.”
Peter groaned, but James and Sirius went still as Dumbledore continued.
“The list of banned items can be found in Mr Filch’s office, and the Forbidden Forest remains forbidden.” His stern countenance changed. “And I wish to introduce Professor Melanthe Peverell, for Defence Against the Dark Arts and the newly-reinstated Dark Arts elective, available for the first time since 1842.”
There was thunderous applause from practically all the tables, and nobody applauded harder than the individuals from Dark families.
Melanthe stood with a chuckle, her deep purple robes iridescent in the light. “Thank you. It is a pleasure to be able to teach at such a historical school, and I look forward to it.” She sat back down, and the food appeared.
It was Horace that leant towards Melanthe during the course of dinner, clearly curious. “Lady Peverell, are you sure it is a good idea, bringing that course back?”
“Call me Melanthe, please.” She smiled at him. “The issue with the Dark Arts – especially in Britain – is that people will invariably dabble with it, and if they are not properly educated on how to safely do so, they go down incredibly dark paths. Dumstrang has always had a Dark Arts course, and practically no student has ever shown signs of the instability that occurs in British dabblers.”
“Then call me Horace.” He smiled back. “Care to elaborate?”
“One needs to know what the Dark Arts actually are to properly defend against them, and also to safely use them. Magic is about balance, and the removal of the course destabilised that balance.” Melanthe smiled wryly. “Light cannot exist without darkness, and darkness cannot exist without light. They are two parts of a whole, and the survival of one is dependent on the survival of the other. By removing one, the other starts weakening.”
“That is an interesting concept,” Ingrid Tremaine – the Spellcrafting professor – said from her position further up the table.
“I don’t think many people know this,” Melanthe chuckled wryly, “but it’s actually why Britain has had issues with Dark Lords in the past century or so. Magic will actually forcibly try to reassert the balance between Light and Dark if one, so to speak, overwhelms the other. I cannot remember Deimos’ exact lecture on the topic, but essentially, the more Dark or Light Lords born within, say, a 50-year-span, the worse the imbalance is. And there have been three born in Britain between 1880 and 1930, which is essentially a cause for major panic.”
“By Dagda, how do you know that?” Horace looked at Melanthe in shock.
“I may not be a Seer, but some of my ancestors were. And I have possibly the only other extant copy of the Liber Dominorum Tenebrarum et Lucis outside of the Department of Mysteries in the British Isles.” Melanthe shrugged. “Not that anyone can get to it; the wards on the Peverell properties are ancient – older than Hogwarts, in some cases – and powered by ley lines.”
Ingrid stared at Melanthe for a good three minutes. “I don’t know if I should applaud your ancestors’ ingenuity, or admire their bravery. Wards powered by ley lines never weaken or fail.”
“Which makes me wonder why it wasn’t done with Hogwarts’ wards,” Melanthe muttered quietly.
Most of dinner continued in silence, and Melanthe observed the houses. Minerva eventually noticed. “Worried?”
“A little. Unstable Defence education for nearly 13 years isn’t good for anyone, and that is two generations of Hogwarts students. How many continue to NEWT level?”
“Few, mostly those that want masteries or to become Aurors.”
Melanthe winced. “That is going to hurt, because I’m working off the ICW standards with my curriculum.”
It was near the end when Filius leant over to Melanthe. “Do you mind convincing Binns to move on?”
“With pleasure, but at the end of the year. Or, I could convince him to stop with the Goblin Wars instead?” Melanthe offered.
“Both are good options,” Filius conceded.
“I’ll talk to him tonight,” Melanthe said with a sigh.
4 September 1972
Hogwarts
Melanthe checked her schedule. Defence, Year 6. Dark Arts, Year 7. Dark Arts, Year 3. Defence, Year 1, Gryffindor/Hufflepuff. Defence, Year 1, Ravenclaw/Slytherin. Lunch. Dark Arts, Year 6. Defence, Year 3, Gryffindor/Slytherin. Defence, Year 3. Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff. Dark Arts, Year 5. Dinner. The planned Duelling Club. Then a 3-hour patrol, dungeon through to floor 4.
“May I ask why all of your detentions are scheduled for the two hours before dinner on weekends, Melanthe?” Minerva asked with curiosity.
“Detention is supposed to be a punishment, correct? A punishment that makes you reluctant to do it again?” Melanthe asked, waiting for Minerva to nod. “The two hours before dinner on weekends are the time most of the students spend having fun with their friends. And there is no greater punishment than knowing your friends are off somewhere else, having fun, while you are sitting in detention, writing lines.”
“Diabolical, but effective. I approve,” Minerva said with a laugh. “Where did you get the idea?”
“When I was little and being a menace, Mother always made me sit in a corner, facing the wall, while I could hear my friends laughing and playing outside the window. It was a very effective punishment. And if it worked on six-year-old me, it sure will work on 17-year-olds.”
“Untraditional approach, but very clever.”
After breakfast, Melanthe had her first class. “Good morning, Sixth Year.”
“Morning, Professor Peverell.”
“You may sit. Today, I shall be testing your knowledge level, after 6 years of patchwork education.” Melanthe tapped the stack of parchment on her desk. “If you do not know the answer, do not guess. Just write that you do not know, or leave it blank. I will not be angry, or disappointed. This is just to see where this class stands. Before this quiz is distributed, I have two questions. One, who wants to be an Auror?”
Three-quarters of the class’ hands went up.
“Alright, hands down. Who wants to attain a Mastery?”
This time, a third raised their hand.
“Some overlap, very good.” Melanthe tapped the parchment with her index finger twice, distributing it. “Write your name and year, your house is not necessary. Outside these walls, very few people care about your house, and it is time you learnt that. I will discuss my planned curriculum once everyone is finished. Understood?”
“Yes, Professor.”
“You have thirty minutes.” Melanthe conjured an hourglass, and turned it over. “Begin.”
Half an hour later, everyone was finished, and Melanthe’s specific grading quill – which was magically linked to the memorandum for any quiz, exam, or essay – got started. “Now, I am sure you are wondering why I asked what your goal in this subject is. Depending on the results of this quiz, I will push you incredibly hard, because my curriculum is based on the ICW standards, both for NEWT level qualifications and basic pre-Auror and Mastery training.” A hand went up. “Yes, Miss Rosier?”
Elizabeth Rosier worried her lip. “This may seem stupid, but… Why are you combining the ICW NEWT and pre-Auror and Mastery standards?”
“A very good question, actually. One point to Ravenclaw.” Melanthe smiled. “Traditionally – and by this, I mean in schools like Dumstrang and the Magiko Sxolio in Greece, and to a lesser degree Beauxbatons and Castelobruxo – what you learn at your NEWT level is meant to build a base that a mastery or other practical application of that subject – such as the Auror Corps – can build on. If you have that base, the world in your chosen field is your oyster.
“As the majority of this class wishes to become Aurors, our Defence lessons will focus primarily on teamwork and duelling skills, with one or two theoretical lessons per week. And, I pick the teams.” She fixed a Gryffindor that was about to protest with a look. “In the Auror Corps, they are known for assigning you a partner you do not like at all to force you to learn how to cooperate as a team – and this comes from Fleamont Potter himself. If you learn to put aside your distaste this year, you will know how to cooperate with someone you don’t necessarily like but have to work with in the field, without butting heads.”
One of the Gryffindor boys put his hand up. “Yes, Mr Diggle?”
“Why the ICW standards?” Darius Diggle raised an eyebrow.
“In times of international unrest, such as the Grindelwald War, the ICW often pulls in Aurors from any country in the vicinity. The British standards are only about half the standards the ICW requires, due to the budget cuts brutally handed to the DMLE, which impacts their ability to actually do the basic training.” Melanthe took a deep breath. “This means that – until a way is found to increase the allotted funds for the DMLE – the very basics of Auror training will have to be done alongside the NEWT curriculum. And, I am sorry to wound your British pride, but British Aurors are a laughingstock in the international community, and I’d like to change that – at least a little – by the end of the decade.”
The bell rang then, and Melanthe sighed. “If you take Dark Arts, expect another quiz in period six. And warn the other students, if possible. You may go.”
The seventh-years trudged in for their Dark Arts lesson ten minutes later, and Melanthe was surprised to see some of the more vocal Light lords’ children present. “Morning, class.”
“Morning, Professor.”
“You may sit. For the first class of each group – be it Defence or Dark Arts – I am handing out quizzes to test your knowledge. If you do not know, leave it blank, or just write I do not know. Guessing is not tolerated. And if you repeat something you heard, please write down where you heard it. Write your name and year, your house is not necessary. We will discuss the curriculum once you are finished.” Melanthe distributed the parchment. “You have thirty minutes. Begin.” She turned the hourglass.
Once all the quizzes were under a marking quill, Melanthe leant against her desk. “I am sure you are wondering what my goal is with a Dark Arts elective. And the very basics of it is that you cannot properly defend against them if you do not know what they are. Most of you think of the Unforgivables when you think of Dark Arts, but there is so much more to them than those three spells.”
A hand went up, and Melanthe paused. “Yes, Mr Summerisle?”
“Will you be doing practical demonstrations?”
Melanthe inhaled, counted to ten, and then exhaled slowly. “Mr Summerisle, the only practical demonstrations in this class will be fairly harmless rituals, and animal Inferi – if we even have time. I have to somehow teach you the first four years’ work before I can actually teach you the seventh-year material, meaning that the entire autumn term will be heavy where homework is concerned. I cannot teach seventh-year material without the earlier years’ groundwork. If we – by some miracle – manage to finish the first four years’ work by Yule, and get a good start on the seventh-year material before Ostara, then I shall consider it. Is that a satisfactory answer?”
“Yes, Professor.”
Another hand went up. “Yes, Mr Lestrange?”
Rabastan was hiding nervousness. “Am I allowed to ask what the work per year is?”
“A point to Slytherin. You are, and maybe this will entice you.” Melanthe smiled. “Third year is the history of the Dark Arts, the positives and negatives, and the classifications of various spells. Fourth year is largely about Dark Creatures, such as their origins and differing cultures – and, if timing allows, the very basics of Necromancy. Fifth year is where practical lessons start, with the most basic rituals, such as to commune with the dead, or to get rid of the influence of Dark Magic, as well as a continuation of Necromancy – it branches into every kind of magic imaginable – and revision of years 3 and 4 for OWLs. Sixth year’s theory aspect covers Soul Magic – expect a lecture on why you do not mess with souls – and Necromancy, and the practical aspect covers golem creation. Seventh year builds on sixth year’s work, but I could demonstrate animal Inferi – human Inferi are a Mastery topic.”
Several people had perked up at that, and Melanthe smiled, checking her watch. “The bell will ring in five minutes. For homework, read the first chapter of The History of the Dark Arts. It sounds like an absolutely dry read, but I was Michel Battenberg’s last student, and it is not dry prose, I assure you. No essays necessary, but if you want to write one, feel free. If you have nothing else to do, read the first chapter of Safe Practicing for Dark Novices and The Basics of Dark Casting as well.”
“What exactly are the enchantments on the books?” Summerisle asked.
“They improve your ability to recall the information. It is applied to both the Defence and Dark Arts textbooks, because of the spotty education in the former, and the complete absence of formal education in the latter.”
“Oh. What about Secrets of the Darkest Arts?” Summerisle raised an eyebrow.
“The author of Secrets of the Darkest Arts was a lazy scoundrel that was too lazy to add the warnings or risks, and left the book incomplete to boot.” Melanthe pursed her lips. “Which is why The Obscure Dark Arts is on the list. My grandmother went into much better detail, and it’s much more interesting than Secrets, which sent me to sleep.” Her smile was wry, and the bell rang. “You may go.”
By dinnertime, the news of Melanthe’s lessons had spread through the school, and those who had had a class with her that day were singing her praises, and those who hadn’t were furiously checking their schedules to see when they had either of her classes.
“I have never seen a teacher become this popular this fast,” Albus confessed. “What exactly did you do?”
“Quizzes to test their level of knowledge for the first 30 minutes, then a question and answer session for the last 20. And their only homework – for this week, at least, especially the upper years – is reading the assigned books chapter by chapter, along with optional essays.” Melanthe smiled.
“Those enchantments are positively genius!” Filius praised.
“They are on all the books, in varying degrees of strength. They are stronger on the NEWT texts, because the seventh years have one year to catch up with the ICW standards, and only three and a half months to learn four years of Dark Arts information, because I have to start the seventh-year material in January.” Melanthe sighed.
“Any luck on the curse?” Albus looked at her hopefully.
“Yes, but I need access to the ward room. With any luck, I could anchor the wards’ power source to the ley lines running under the castle grounds, which would power them for potentially forever.” Melanthe smiled awkwardly.
“Which would mean that the wards would repair themselves, and not need to be fed every year,” Bathsheda muttered. “That is genius.”
“The only reason it was not done to Hogwarts’ wards in the first place is because of the Witchfinders,” Melanthe shook her head, “and the Founders went for speed over power. I think it was planned to anchor them to the ley lines, but then tragedy struck, and it was never done.”
“The Baron and the Lady?” Bathsheda asked.
“Yes, combined with Rowena’s death.” Melanthe hummed. “At that time, it would have taken all four founders to anchor the wards without even one failing, but since they have been here for almost a millennium, they are strong enough for a Grand Mage – or a particularly powerful Mage – to do it by themselves.”
“I wish you luck.”
“Thank you.”