Molly
Molly stood nervously in line next to Grey, who put a comforting hand on her shoulder. She watched as person after person was called up, some longer and some shorter. She watched as Harry walked up the pathway, looking cool and collected as always. He sat under the hat and was one of the shorter ones, the hat yelling out “Gryffindor!” after a few seconds. Then he was up, walking towards the far table, sitting next to the twins they had met in the bookshop. She gulped, knowing the name before it was spoken. Grey gave a squeeze on her shoulder, and she smiled gratefully at him before pulling away and walking unsteadily up the aisle. She got to the old faded stool and sat down on it, the hat being placed gently on her head and slipping over her eyes, mercifully cutting off the view of all the kids staring at her, still whispering about her brother.
Suddenly she felt a sheer, blinding pain in her head, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. The pain lessened a considerable degree after a few moments and she heard a voice in her head. Hmm, a sensitive one are we? Littlest touch of the mind sets you off, does it?
Gee, how did you figure that out? she thought sarcastically. It’s almost like you can read my mind or something.
Oh, calm down and relax, kid. Just let me sort through your memories, and figure out where to place you. Got a lot of people to get through tonight. She took a deep breath and relaxed, feeling the pain come back as the hat shifted through her head. It felt wrong, like an invasion but she allowed it.
Hmm, very difficult choice. Much different from your brother. Thought the hat musingly. I see two choices for you here.
Well? Spit it out already, hat. She said, the pain tempering the numerous questions she had planned for it and making her irritable.
Well, there is Gryffindor. You are brave, like your brother. The scene of her grabbing a weapon from a goblin in front of the bank flashed through her mind. But you are also cunning, like a Slytherin.
I thought Slytherins were evil! That’s where the Death Eaters came from! Molly protested desperately.
The hat sighed, anger tinging its tone. Evil? No one is fully evil. Yes, it is true that more than a handful of Death Eaters came from that table to your right. But plenty came from Hufflepuff, due to their loyalty. A few from Gryffindor. Just because you are brave doesn't mean you are brave and good. And quite a few from Ravenclaw, for their thirst for knowledge and power. I've been doing this for a long time, kid. I've seen it all. No one house is better than the other, and that is the point of it. So no, just because you are sneaky, cunning, and quick on your feet doesn't mean you are ‘evil’. Ohh, thinking of trying to block certain memories from me, hmm? How very Slytherin of you.
Before Molly could even think up a reply, the hat shouted out, “Slytherin!” and suddenly the hat was being pulled off her and she was being helped up, and half pushed half led to the Slytherin table. Her forehead was still pounding, and she rubbed it as she stumbled along to the table.
People gave her a wide berth when she sat down, looking at her with a mix of hatred and wariness, for being the sister of the famous Harry Potter she supposed. She didn't care, and just closed her eyes and took deep breaths to calm her head as person after person was called up. Malfoy sat down with the Slytherins, but that was to be expected. He sat between the two people who he had shared the boat with, the ones who acted like his bodyguards when he had come through the double doors, glowering at anyone and everyone near him. He immediately shot her a smirk, and she just sighed and shook her head. Thankfully, the very next person who was called up was Grey, who was also sorted into Slytherin. Instead of sitting by Draco, where all the first-year Slytherins were slowly collecting, he came and sat beside her with a wink. Draco glowered at him, but he just smirked back. She felt immediately cheered by this, the headache receding as she subtly looked over to see him next to her. She felt a wash of… some emotion she could not identify filling her chest with warmth. She was so happy that this boy whom she had just met had come to sit by her of all people, had been kind to her, and not just because her brother was famous. He caught her staring at him and she smiled widely, with him returning it.
Soon after that, the sorting wrapped up, with a girl that Draco had been sharing the boat with named Pansy Parkinson sitting with him, also seeming to be in the center of the nucleus that was forming around Draco. Dumbledore stood up at the front of the room, and spoke for a minute, but she didn't listen, and then food appeared on the empty plates. She grabbed her fork and knife and dug in eagerly, ravishing the food. Grey, beside her, did the same.
“So,” she said, chewing and swallowing carefully before talking to him. She had never worried too much about it before, but suddenly it seemed like the most important thing in the world for her to not have food in her mouth as she spoke to him. “Where are you from? I don't really know much about you, and you know a whole lot about me, don't really seem fair now, does it?” she asked with a grin, quirking an eyebrow at him.
“Ah, because your life seems to be so much more interesting than mine,” he said, gesturing with his head to where Harry was sitting, forming his own little nucleus at the Gryffindor table, before refocusing on her. “There’s not much to tell, really. My parents were both magical, you see, so-”
“Oh, so you're a Pureblood like Whitey over there was rambling on about?” She asked, thrusting her fork in Draco’s direction, accidentally flinging some mashed potatoes that were still on it at him. It hit his cheek, and he looked up spitefully, wiping the mashed potatoes off his cheek slowly. She shrugged half-apologetically and Grey leaned back and was howling laughter, which only made Draco more incensed. He glared at her for a few seconds more , and then went back to talking with his groupies. “Well?” she prompted again once Grey had caught his breath.
“No, I’m not a Pureblood like Draco. My mother was a Muggleborn, and my father’s grandfather was also a muggleborn. So we haven’t been kept ‘pure’ like the inbreeding family over there had.” Grey replied, taking another bite of food, completely unperturbed about insulting Draco and the Purebloods.
“But how was it to live in the Wizarding world, growing up in it? I’ve only ever known about the human world.” That wasn’t completely true, but she wasn’t about to confess some of the things she had seen and knew about to this guy, as nice as he might be. Unlike what her brother believed, she wasn’t a complete idiot.
“Oh, it wasn’t bad at all. We lived in a decent sized, three-story house. We didn’t have any servants or nothing like that, just the three of us. It was a good life, even if I had to miss out on the wonderful things you Muggles call movies. Always wanted to convince my Dad to buy us a TV, but he refused. Said that they were a form of witchcraft he didn’t understand and therefore wanted nothing to do with. Very annoying.” He rolled his eyes. “But tell me about yourself! I want to know how you became the sister of the famous Harry Potter.”
“That’s Carpenter-Potter to you, sunny boy.” She said, poking him. He swatted her hand away with a laugh, and she laughed back. “Well, there’s not much to tell really. According to how my Mom and Dad tell it, he had gone to London for a bit of business.” Technically not a lie, she rationalized to herself, for some reason feeling guilty from even telling a white lie to this kind boy. “And then as he was taking an evening stroll, he found this poor baby lying all alone on a doorstep. So naturally he knocked on the door and when the people came and opened it, they actually rejected the baby! It was horrible.”
“How in the bloody hell did he get to that doorstep?!” Grey swore, eyebrows disappearing into his hairline.
“No clue,” she lied once again, taking a bite of her food so she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “And then Dad brought Harry home and legally adopted him as a ward of the state. And that’s how he came to live with us!” she said, finishing up her story.
“Wow. Not how I thought the story would go at all. Was it interesting actually living with him though? Famous celebrity in the Wizarding World?”
“Well, we didn’t actually know he was famous, or we didn’t know just how famous he was, until about two months ago? That is when Dumbledore showed up at our house and told us all about his heritage. Let me tell you, Dad almost decked him when he appeared out of nowhere at the front gate.”
“And you all just accepted that magic existed, just like that? I’ve always been interested in hearing how the parents of muggle born deal with the fact that magic exists.”
Ohhh, if only you knew the half of it, she thought. “Well, it took some convincing, believe you me, but in the end they came to believe Dumbledore. After that, it was just a matter of convincing them to allow us to go to another continent for boarding school.”
“Oh yeah! That is what I wanted to ask you. If you’re American, why are you here? And where are you from?”
“Well, Dumbledore really wanted Harry in particular to come here, legacy student and all that. Though to be honest, I think he just wanted the prestige of the Boy-Who-Lived at his school if you ask me. As to where I’m from, I’m from the great city of Chicago.”
“Chicago? I’ve never heard of it. The only cities I know are London, New York City and Paris. We wizards don’t pay much attention to you humans multiplying like ants and springing up cities faster than you can count.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you telling me that wizards don’t have cities either?” She asked incredulously.
“Well, there’s not enough places that one can hide an entire city for wizards without people catching on. The closest we got to a city is several large vacation islands in Bermuda that many wizards have second homes in.”
“You’re telling me the Bermuda Triangle is just a vacation home for wizards?!”
“Oh, so it is famous in the Muggle World?”
“Famous?! It’s one of the most mysterious places in the entire world!”
“Yes, Muggles constantly trying to come and see what is hidden there truly gets annoying.”
“So you murder them, and that is why they’ve all gone missing?” She said with a bit of apprehension. Maybe wizards were more ruthless than she thought.
“Murder? God, no!” He looked appalled at the very idea. “We just obliviate their memories and drop them in a random Muggle town! Murder…” He shook his head and went back to his food. “The things that you people attribute to us will never cease to astound me.”
The dinner ended, and the dessert appeared after that. Molly dug in, stopping her fascinating conversation with Grey to stuff her mouth. As she ate, she watched Grey, who ate with a slow deliberateness, treating the fork as if it was the most delicate object in the whole world. For the first time she noticed his fascinating eyes, they were blue, with delicate swirls of gray and green mixed in. After she noticed this, she studied him in more detail as she ate her treats, while he was distracted. He was roughly her height, not quite five feet yet, with long brown hair that had been slicked back, ending right at the collar of his robes. He had a strong jawline, and dimples on his cheeks when he smiled. There were well grooved laugh lines also, that readily came into existence when he laughed and a slight round chubbiness to his face. There was also a chubbiness to his entire body, but unlike in his face she could tell that there was packed, natural muscle under the fat, indicated by when he had helped her up. And sitting in his black robes with accents of green and the Slytherin badge on his breast, he cut a very stunning figure. Suddenly he looked up, and noticed her staring at him from the corner of her eye. She blushed and quickly refocused her gaze on her dish.
Soon the food was done, and Dumbledore stood up and began approaching the podium. Before he could say anything however, there was a commotion at the Gryffindor table. She looked up to see, for some odd reason, her brother climbing onto the table, stepping over dishes. She watched in confusion as he pushed back an older boy with red hair, who stared shocked at him. She then saw the reason for his theatrics. There was a ghost floating above the table! She couldn’t actually believe she was seeing a ghost in real life. She had only heard of them from the stories Dad would tell when he got home from a long day of fighting. She saw her brother thrust his cross into the air into the ghost’s face and begin to shout in Latin. Then she lost sight of him, as the dishes and unfinished food began to float and swirl around Harry and the ghost, obscuring them both from view. Even from all the way across the Great Hall, she felt the wind stirring her hair. And maybe it was her imagination, but she could have sworn over the yells of the students nearest Harry, who had to scramble back to not be slapped in the face by food or dishes, she could hear Harry’s voice booming over the wind, over the ghostly wails.
She leapt to her feet and began to move towards him, but as fast as she was, the old man, surprisingly, was still faster. He moved faster than any man who looked his age should have been able to move, pulling out his wand from his robe’s pocket and pointing it to the mini-gale, uttering some words that she could not comprehend by reading his lips. Whatever they were, she soon could not hear Harry’s words anymore and his iron crucifix flew out from the center of the windstorm, into Dumbledore’s outstretched hand.
“Hey, what the heck do you think you are doing, you old fart?!” she shouted at Dumbledore, who barely spared her a glance as he gestured to Harry, who was grabbing at his throat and glaring at Dumbledore, who gestured with his wand to make him get down off the table. She began doubling her running speed, determined to get to him before Dumbledore did whatever nefarious thing he was planning on doing to him, balling up her hands into fists. But before she could even get past the Ravenclaw table (God, this hall was so big) she was stopped by another adult, who grabbed her by the shoulder and stopped her from progressing farther.
“Ms. Carpenter. I would suggest that you greatly reconsider whatever it is you are planning in that young mind of yours,” drawled a deep and yet slightly nasally voice, and she looked up to see a tall, thin man standing there, with greasy black hair framing his face down to the collar, and a hooked nose. His face was in a scowl, and it looked so natural that she had to assume it was its most common state. His skin was almost as pale as Malfoy’s and he had a look of great age to him, a weight pressing down that she could see behind his eyes, though she could tell by the lack of wrinkles that he had to be younger than his eyes would make him seem.
“Who the heck are you? Get your hands off me!” she protested more out of reflex than anything else, knowing it would not actually do her any good.
“I am the Head of your House, and it is my job that you do not make any…hasty decisions that would reflect poorly on my house. That includes,” he cast a glance down to where her hands were still balled into fists, “attacking the Headmaster. I must confess, I knew bringing Harry Potter to Hogwarts would be courting trouble, but even so this is a most eventful first day, I do confess. But I have no wish, as amusing as it might be, to see it become even more eventful by having an attack on the Headmaster. So I must insist that you let him be dealt with.”
“But he is going to hurt him!” protested Molly, watching as he was led out the double doors into the hallway they had been standing in a short time ago.
“As much as I would enjoy the fact, the Headmaster will not be harming the boy. So please return to your seat, and do not cause any further disruption than your brother already has,” the man said patronizingly, and Molly reluctantly shook herself from his grasp, glared at him and returned to her seat, where Grey had been watching the proceedings.
“What… was that?!” Grey asked, shock registering on his face.
“I tried to go help my brother and that random teacher stopped me!”
“Oh, that’s Professor Snape. He’s the Potions Master, one of the best in the world. Former student here. Real nasty customer by all accounts. Doesn’t like many people. You’re lucky he didn’t give you detention!”
“He didn’t seem that nasty. Besides his smell, of course. Must be from all the potions,” said Molly, still not fully paying attention as she kept her eyes locked on the doors, waiting for them to return. The entire hall was awash with buzzing conversations, as a teacher in robes and a nurse hat from World War Two went over to the Gryffindor table with her wand and began healing the minor cuts on a few students' faces from the plates.
Finally she saw Dumbledore bring Harry back into the room. She tried to catch his eye but he had his gaze cast to the ground, looking nervous and ashamed. She saw that the chain with the cross was back around his neck, and he went and sat back down at the table, where some people shifted slightly away from him, even if he was oblivious about it.
After that, the dinner quickly wrapped up, with Dumbledore giving a speech that she didn't bother listening to, and then a girl stood up at the end of the table. She gestured at a badge pinned to her robes, and introduced herself as Gemma Farley. She gathered up the girls, and a boy who had been sitting across from her with the same badge to gather the boys up, and they were led out the Great Hall. Molly glimpsed her brother turning with his group to go up the stairs, her House kept walking down the hall and began to take the stairs downward, spiraling into the dungeon. Once they went down the staircase, they walked some more down a cold and damp hallway until they arrived at a dead end hallway. The Prefects put their hand on the stone and pushed in, saying some word she could not make out, and the stone gave way to an arched doorway, much like the one in Diagon Alley. She went through the doorway, exhausted, and tiredly said goodnight to Grey and headed up the stairs, flopping in bed and passing out immediately, before she had even fully hit the pillow.
* * *
Molly awoke to the curtains around her bed opening and her bedsheets pulling themselves down of their own accord. She sat up and looked around, finally noticing the room she had crashed into. She had been too exhausted to do so last night, only noticing her trunk and flopping on that bed. Now, as she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, she noticed that there were stairs continuing from where she had laid down. There were about ten beds in total, and as she looked more closely they were magnificent beds. They were all four posters, with each post carved like a twisting snake. If you lay in bed and looked up, the ceiling of the bed, so to speak, reflected the sky outside, now bright blue with clouds drifting across it. And the curtains were deep emerald green, with outlines of black on them. She got off the bed and went around to her trunk, where there was a piece of paper on top of it.
Monday Hogwarts Schedule- Molly Carpenter
7 AM- Wake Up
8 AM- Breakfast
9 AM- Class 1: Defense Against the Dark Arts
10:30 AM- Class 2: Foundations
12 PM- Lunch and Study Hall
1 PM- Class 3: Charms
2:30 PM- Class 4: Herbology
4 PM- School Finishes, Extra Help Available till 6 PM
7 PM- Dinner
10 PM- Lights Out
She quickly scanned the entire paper and sighed. Looks like she was in for a busy day. She opened her trunk, and leaned in, grabbing her shower supplies and gathering them in her arms, she went to the door that she had seen the other girls go into. She was confused, however, because she had just seen a girl go into it, but when she opened the door she saw that it was a single-person bathroom with a shower, sink, and toilet. She turned to one of the other girls waiting behind her, who happened to be the girl who had been snuggling up to Draco.
“Hey, how is it that no one’s in here? I just saw people go in!” she asked in confusion.
The girl sneered at her in response. “Stupid Muggle. I should have known you wouldn't be able to comprehend something as simple as a revolving bathroom.” She walked closer and spoke in her face like she was speaking to a child, annunciating every word. “The bathroom revolves. Every time a girl goes in, when you re-open the door it is a different, identical bathroom. That way you don’t have to share with anyone and keep your shower supplies in there at all times. You understand?” She backed up and laughed at her, shaking her head.
Molly clenched her fists under the robe over her arms and had to take a deep breath and mentally restrain herself from punching the smug, self-important girl. She turned on her heel briskly, not even bothering to say thank you, and slammed the door hard behind her.
The shower was actually very nice and helped her relax after that infuriating encounter. She got out after a bit of washing her hair so it would stay nice and slightly curled, and then applied make-up and got ready for the day.
By the time she stepped out of the bathroom, she was once again completely calm. She walked over to her trunk, purposefully not making eye contact with any of the girls who were all huddled around the first main girl, all looking over at her and cackling cruelly. But their tunes quickly changed from laughter to murmurs of shock when she reached back into her trunk and pulled out not just one wand, but two of them instead, sliding them into the pocket of her robe, along with the writing supplies and the books she would need for the day. She closed the trunk, purposefully making sure that the handles of both wands were sticking out of her pocket in clear view of the girls. She smiled to herself and strode upstairs, checking her watch and seeing that she had only seven more minutes to get to the Great Hall. Once she went up the stairs, she saw the sitting room fully for the first time. There were long couches and armchairs arranged by a fire, along with two small round tables with wooden chairs that looked far less comfy, in her opinion. The walls continued the snake motif, along with skulls, and above the fireplace the large emblem of the Slytherin house, along with a picture of Salazar Slytherin himself, according to the engraving on the frame. This one was a still one, however, not moving like most of the other paintings she had seen. She supposed that they might not have been able to do that back then. The room, thankfully, was also carpeted, so the cold stone blocks were not freezing underneath her feet.
The rest of the Slytherins slowly gathered in the main room, and once again the older boy and girl took charge, shepherding them out the door. “One thing to remember!” the boy shouted right before they left the room. He pointed to a notice board, where there was only one piece of paper hanging. “Every day, this paper will show the new password for the dungeon! Make sure to check it, otherwise you will not be able to get in! Now let’s go, I’m hungry!” he said and he pressed his hand against the stone, outlined by a doorway on this end, and the door dissolved and they all walked through. When the last person was through, the door immediately closed behind them, appearing as if it had never been gone, a solid stone wall once more.
They followed the prefects down the confusing winding path of corridors, and as they walked, Grey sidled up to her. “Yo! You didn’t blimey tell me you had double wands!” He exclaimed in a whisper, gesturing to her robe pocket. “Can I see ‘em?”
She happily obliged, pulling out the double wands, one in each hand. They already felt natural in her grasp. She had not been allowed to use magic over the summer, but there was nothing that had stopped her from pulling out the wands on occasion and practicing holding them and how quickly she could draw them if need be. So they were worn and comfy in her hands, and she pulled them out with speed and ease, one for each hand.
“Wow! Black wands! Don’t see that color much. How come you have two?” He asked, wide-eyed and leaning closer to inspect them.
She carefully thought before answering and decided a half-truth was better than no truth at all. “When I used one wand I accidentally…overloaded it. So Ollivander got me double wands, wood from the same tree and cores from the same animal, all that. So they’re as close as two wands can get!” Then she spun the wands like an old Western Cowboy with six shooters and slid them into her pockets with a grin at Grey.
“Blimey, mate. Now you’re gonna be known for having double wands instead of just being the sister of the famous Harry Potter.”
“What?! That’s what I’m known for so far, just being the sister of someone famous?!” She couldn’t believe her ears right now. Sure, she knew there would be some slight association between both of them, but she didn’t think it would be her entire identity to the school at large.
“Oh yeah, that was all anyone could talk about in the dorm room last night! It wasn’t pleasant talk, though, with that prick Malfoy leading the conversation.”
Then they were through the double doors and in the Great Hall, where everyone else was slowly trickling in also. She went to go speak to her brother, but he was being swarmed by people and she couldn't get close enough for him to notice her. She gave up and trudged back to her table sadly, taking comfort in the fact that, according to Grey, she would have at least one class with him sometime today.
Once she got to her table, the food appeared just like last night and she ate it quickly, heavily aware of the ticking clock right above the doorway that she watched out of the corner of her eye as she stuffed her face.
Once the hour hand hit Eight O’Clock, all the food on the plates, and even at the end of some people’s forks, disappeared. “Come on, I know where the classroom is!” Grey said, wasting no time and standing up, tugging Molly along with him.
He led them down the corridor and up the stairs, until they stopped on the third floor and went down a corridor to the third classroom of the hallway, which was labeled as Classroom 3C. Once they got inside, Molly was delighted to see that her brother was also in the classroom, sitting with a red-haired boy and a mousy-looking girl. “Harry!” she said and threw her arms around him. He returned the hug gratefully.
“How have you been? What happened with old Dumbledore? That Draco is such-” before she could continue overwhelming Harry with her torrent of words, a crisp voice cut through the entire chatter of the classroom.
“Class, please find your seats. There is very limited time in this class, and I intend to use all of it. Slytherins, you will sit to the right. Gryffindors, to the left. Now, please. Chop, chop.” The woman at the front of the classroom punctuated this statement by clapping her hands together sharply.
She slunk over to her side of the room, giving the woman, whom she remembered from last night as Professor Dupont, and totally not because it was written in big bold letters on the chalkboard behind her, a glare for not letting her talk to her brother. From closer up, she could see that there were a few gray hairs threaded in with the blonde, and a few wrinkles on her face, putting her age closer to 40. Though for all Molly knew, she could have been 90 years old and simply looked 40.
“It has come to my attention,” began the teacher, coming out from behind her desk and clasping her hands behind her back, beginning to pace back and forth in a brisk fashion, like everything else about her, “that this Hogwarts school has been sadly lacking in proper professors in the Defense Against the Dark Arts. I plan to change this, as much as I can, in the one year I will be able to. I wish to stay on as your professor longer than that, of course. I want to give you all a consistent and reliable education. But I have many years of neglect to make up for. Which is why it is imperative that I teach you all I can in this one little year I have of your attention. So there will be no dilly-dallying, no sitting here and talking with your friends when you come into my class. You shall come in, and immediately sit down and wait for me to begin resuming where we left off. Is that clear?” She turned her eyes, which were blazing in anticipation and tenacity, towards them.
Molly gulped, as she felt like those eyes pierced her as they were turned upon her, cutting her deep with their intensity. The teacher continued. “The first question I wish to ask of you is, can any of you tell me what Defense Against the Dark Arts is?”
The mousy girl who had been sitting beside Harry immediately shot her hand up. When no one else did, the Professor stopped pacing and turned towards her and nodded. “Hermione Granger, is that correct?”
“Yes, Professor.”
“And do you have an answer for us?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Yes, Professor. Defense Against the Dark Arts is a class stretching all the way back to the beginning of Hogwarts. Most classes have been supplanted or changed, but Defense has stayed the same since the beginning. It was first taught by Salazar Slytherin, and it teaches us about Dark Creatures and how to defend ourselves against them, in case the need should arise,” she answered smugly and as if she had been reciting it verbatim from a book.
“Very good, Ms. Granger! I can see you read the Defense Against the Dark Arts Year 1 book very thoroughly!” Hermione beamed happily, sitting back in her seat proudly. The smile quickly faded from her face, however, as the teacher continued. “Of course, that is utterly and completely wrong, but a very good attempt indeed. Would anyone else want to tell me what Defense Against the Dark Arts is?” No one else raised their hand to volunteer, so she answered her own question. “Defense Against the Dark Arts, is quite simply, the study of the Dark Arts. For if one is truly to defend themselves against it, they must first learn how to use it. In the Muggle world, there is an art, or some call it a sport, called karate. Do you know what karate is?” A few students, including Molly and her brother, nodded. Others, like Grey and Draco, looked utterly confused. “Karate is a mortal sport that teaches you how to use your hands and body for violence against another person. Yet they also teach to never attack another, and to only use it in self-defense. This seems contradictory, no? But that is the point of it. They teach a person karate so that they never will have to use it, but if they were attacked themselves they would understand the attack and how to parry it. So over the course of this year, you will become intimately familiar with the Dark Arts, and the creatures that serve it. You will learn them so you may defeat them. Do you understand?”
When the class chorused “Yes” she nodded satisfied. “Good. Now for our first lesson, I would like to ask all of you one simple question. Can anyone tell me the three Unforgivable Curses? And furthermore, why they are unforgivable?”
Once again she turned towards the class, and once again Hermione was the first to raise her hand. But this time so did a few others. She looked around and pointed at Draco, who answered. “The three Unforgivable Curses are Imperio, which controls the mind, Crucio, which causes pain on the subject, and the Killing Curse, which…well, it kills of course. They are Unforgivable because no shield can block them, and small-minded wizards fear their power.” He said, a smug and haughty tone in his voice.
The teacher pressed her lips together. “Interesting, that you would name the first two, Mr. Malfoy, but not the third.” She then strode to her desk and leaned down, straightening back up with a tiny brown mouse in a cage, who squared cutely and looked around in curiosity. “Meet the Apodemus sylvaticus, commonly known as the European Field Mouse. I have laid down several protection spells on it, twenty-seven of the known and lesser known ones in fact. Please observe.” She drew out her wand and flicked it at the mouse, saying a bunch of words that Molly did not fully know what meant. She then turned to the class, showing the mouse sitting there unharmed. “As you can see, the levitation charm, the blasting charm, the fire charm, and even the summoning charm did not work on it. It is well protected from harm, is that correct?” The class nodded, confused. “But observe what happens when, even with all this protection laid upon it, I simply utter,” she spun and pointed the wand at the mouse, shouting, “Avada Kedavra!” A bolt of green lightning shot out from the end of her wand and hit the mouse right between the eyes. Immediately the mouse stopped twitching and moving and toppled over. Dead. Shrieks and screams arose from across the classroom, and even Malfoy looked a bit sickened.
“You can’t do that! It’s not allowed to use one of those curses!” shouted one of the Gryffindor boys, whose name Molly did not know.
The teacher spun towards him. “I have gotten special permission from the Headmaster himself, in all of his legal capacity, to be able to do exactly what I just did here. And I will be doing it later today for the next class also. I do not believe in the ‘modern’ theory that using the Unforgivable Curses somehow eats at your soul. Magic is a tool, like all other things. Doing it with the wrong intentions will eat away at your conscience, but I do not believe it will have any true effect on my soul. This is simply a demonstration for all of you. No spells, no shields, or cleverly crafted multi-layered magic, can stop the killing curse. It is final! Resolute! There is no blocking it, there is no surviving it. In fact, there has been only one officially recorded case of someone surviving the curse. And to all of our luck, he is sitting right here.” All eyes turned to her brother, without her ever having to even say a name. He flushed, embarrassed to be the center of attention. The Professor didn’t care, however. “Please, Mr. Potter, would you let us in on the secret? How did you, as a fifteen-month-old baby, do what is considered impossible? How did you survive the curse that has felled some of the greatest and most terrible wizards to ever live?”
Harry just looked around, not really sure what to say. “First off ma’am, I would kindly ask you to please use my given name, Harry Carpenter-Potter. And as you stated I was simply a fifteen-month-old baby when,” he gestured vaguely to the indented scar on his head, “when that happened. I could not tell you at all how. I don't even remember the incident that killed my birth parents at all. Sorry, Professor.”
She smiled. “It’s quite alright, Harry. It’s a shame we will never learn your secret, but I think we are all relieved that no one who was in that house that night survived.”
That seemed a little callous to Molly but she didn’t say anything, way too intrigued with this teacher to get on her bad side just quite yet.
“These are the three Unforgivable Curses. Over the centuries, there have been many other curses brought up in front of the Minister of Magic and the court for consideration to also be made Unforgivable. But only these three have remained, for only these three are the only spells without any way to protect oneself against them.”
The professor then launched into a detailed summary of the history of the Unforgivable curses and the history behind them–their discovery and more importantly,when they were outlawed. She also covered several other curses that had been petitioned to be added to the three and why exactly they were denied.
The lecture lasted till the end of the period, and Molly watched fascinated as the Professor pulled up pictures on the projector and animatedly waved her arms and told in detail all this information. She dutifully took notes as she listened, not sure if there would be a test on this information. The only other important thing that happened in class was a minute before class ended, the teacher went over to the side of the room and rolled out an old, battered cabinet and put it in the center of the clearing right in front of her desk. “Do you see this cabinet?” She loudly proclaimed, gesturing to it as if it wasn’t immediately obvious which cabinet she was referring to. “This cabinet will become your new best friend over this school year. It has a boggart inside it. Do you know what a boggart is?”
The red headed boy by Harry nodded. “Yeah! We have an old house and occasionally we have to clear some out of the old storage in the attic that takes up residence there! They ain’t nothing that serious really, just annoying gits that show your deepest fears when you open their home. Feed on the bugs and stuff that passes too close to them.”
The teacher nodded, pleased. “Correct! Good job, Ronald. Five points to Gryffindor. Can anyone else tell me the spells that can harm a boggart?” Beside her, a girl named Daphne raised her hand. “Yes, Daphne?”
“Riddikulus will make their scary shape turn into something funny and less harmful, allowing them to be removed. The hard part is thinking of something funny when your greatest fear stands right in front of you.” she finished icily, staring at the Professor evenly.
“Yes! Five points to Slytherin! Very good job.” Daphne beamed and sat back down in her seat happily. “But can anyone tell me the other spell that works on boggarts?” She looked around the class, not seeing any raised hands. “No, I didn't think so. This is not a spell that is usually taught, for most people see no real reason for it. The other spell is called Morph Cinccino. If you cast this spell on a boggart, you will be able to choose the form it turns into and it will not be able to change into what it chooses until you release the spell on it. And as it does with all forms, it will take on the characteristics and powers of that creature. It’s not a widely known spell, having been lost to time. I only found out from a very old source when I was researching in preparation for teaching. But in this class, it will be an essential part of the curriculum. You will learn to fight different magical creatures that one would not easily be able to fight with the boggart-changing spell. Next class, we shall start with the normal boggart, so prepare yourselves to face your fears.” The bell rang and she clapped her hands. “I will see all of you on Wednesday. Have a good first day of class. I look forward to teaching all of you.” She then gestured with her wand and the cabinet rolled itself back to its previous place, and she returned to her desk as everyone filed out, rushing to their next class, she and her brother going in different directions before she could talk to him.
She checked her schedule again, and she saw that the next class she had was Foundations. This class was not as interesting as the Defense class, and the teacher mostly droned on about the proper way to write an essay and how to cite it so it was all proper and easily verified. The nervousness she had noticed during his introduction at the dinner last night was there, if not even worse. He was always adjusting his turban and shifting his eyes nervously, and after about forty five minutes he seemed to completely lose his battle of wills and just sat down at his desk, clutching his head in his hands, murmuring that they should solve the problems in the first unit of the math book, which due to it being an elective, the books required were stacked up in the far corner. She sighed, hating having to have to do math problems, hoping that since she was in a magical school she would get away from such humdrums. The time seemed to drag on and on as all the teacher did was massage his head and groan quietly to himself on the desk till the period ran out.
Then lunch happened, where they had the option to study in their dorm rooms or go to the Great Hall for the first week to meet their other students and eat there. To her disappointment, Harry was not there, and so she ate with Grey. Or she would have, until Daphne just sat herself down beside the two of them, with an expression that made it look like she was doing them the favor by sitting with them. They learned from the very little she said during her brief stints of conversation that she was a half-blood due to an affair by her father, and was shunned by the main family of Greengrasses, which was one of the Pureblood families. “But my father still paid for me to go to Hogwarts because it would look bad for a Greengrass not to go to Hogwarts, even if I am not a Pureblood like my sister.” She finished with a scowl, but Molly could read the pain behind her eyes. Molly leaned over and patted her hand gently. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. I can’t really relate, but if you talk to my brother I’m sure he would be able to relate much better than me, seeing as he’s adopted and all.”
At that objection, she shook her head vehemently. “Thank you,” she said coldly. “But I am not sitting here because I wish to have friends.” she said that word with a grimace. “But out of the two options, I must acknowledge that you are better than Draco over there.”
Molly cast a look with Grey. She didn't know how to react to that, and clearly neither did he, so she began to shovel down the food, seeing that the hour was almost up.
The class after that was marginally more interesting, taught by a short little professor with a long nose and slightly pointed ears like the goblins she had met at the bank, but completely human in color and facial shape. When she walked in, he immediately pulled her to the side. “You are Molly Carpenter, correct?” he asked as the other students, Ravenclaws this time, filed in with the rest of the Slytherin.
Grey shot her a questioning glance, and she just shrugged imperceptibly. “Yes, I am. Nice to meet you, Professor Flitwick!” she said cheerily,
“Are the rumors true?” he asked, his eyebrows raised and peering at her. “You really went and met…Lord Gringotts?!” he said in a truly shocked tone.
“Oh sure! He seemed like a very nice goblin indeed. He even offered to safeguard some items for us if we ever needed it!”
“Well, I’ll be. In all my years of knowing him, I’ve never known a human to be allowed an audience with him. Your family must be special indeed. Surely it could not have been just because your brother is Harry Potter,” he mused aloud, stroking his chin and looking her up in down in a mix of confusion and awe.
“Oh, you know him too? Ohh, are you half-goblin? I was wondering why you were so tiny!” she exclaimed, all the pieces clicking together in her mind, once again speaking before she thought.
He pressed his lips together in a thin line, all awe immediately leaving his expression. “Yes, I am half-goblin, on my mother's side. I truly hope you did not speak with such impertinence and impulsivity in front of Lord Gringotts, Miss Carpenter. Please, sit down so we may start class. I believe all of us are here now.”
After that, he went to the front of the class and, due to his short stature, clambered on a stool and stood in front of the class, demonstrating different techniques of how to gesture with their wand. He also explained the difference between Charms, Hexes, Curses and other types of basic magic, like maintenance magic, kitchen magic and others. This went on for the entire class, and he promised that next class he would actually be teaching them spells that they could use.
The next class was easily the most boring of them all, however. It was taught by a small lady called Professor Sprout, who just talked about plants the entire time and their different magical qualities. Molly had to pinch herself to stay awake, it was that boring.
Finally the class ended, and Molly gathered her books and writing equipment papers and left the greenhouse. She decided to wander around a bit before going inside, enjoying the warm weather, knowing it would not be like this for much longer. The huge lake was cold when she dipped her hand in it, and she could have sworn she saw shapes swirling under it, faces peering up from under the water, fangs bared at her. She shivered and leaped back, quickly moving away from the lake. She also found a hut on the outskirts of the property, near the forest that looked dark and she assumed was forbidden. The large man, Hagrid, looked up from his garden which he was weeding and waved happily to her, and she found herself smiling and waving back before going on her way.
She slowly made her way back to the castle, and then she went to the Slytherin Common Room, where Grey and Daphne were sitting around a table in the corner, with all the comfortable chairs and couches taken up by Malfoy and his cohorts. She settled down in one of the chairs and dropped her stuff loudly on the ground just to annoy him. Sadly, they didn’t seem to pay attention and she sighed and leaned back into her chair, trying to make it as comfortable as possible.
“So what do you think of the first day at Hogwarts?” asked Daphne, raising an eyebrow at her.
“Oh, I enjoyed most of the classes. Herbology was hard to get through though.”
Grey shook his head. “I gotta admit, hearing you speak with a Yank accent is still weird. Only bloody Yank in this school.”
“Hey, my brother is also American!” she protested.
“Only half. He was born in Britain, he just had the misfortune of being raised by your kind,” he said with a smirk.
They began to bicker back and forth good-naturedly and Daphne didn’t speak much, as was quickly becoming her usual. They kept up their friendly banter until the clock reached 6:30 and they then both went to their dorms to wash up for dinner and put their stuff away. They were in the hall by seven, and Molly waved to her brother as she made her way to the Slytherin table. She had wanted to go over and talk to him but there were so many people jostling for their sports and teachers shouting for order that she didn’t even bother. Eventually everyone did find their seats, however, and same as last night the food magically appeared in front of them. And just like last night, most of the Slytherin first-years and even some of the older students all gravitated towards Draco and Pansy, leaving Daphne, Grey and Molly to sit with empty seats surrounding them.
Unexpectedly, though, one of the empty seats right next to Daphne became taken halfway through the meal. A nervous looking girl put down her plate and settled in the seat, introducing herself as Penelope Fawley.
“Hey!” Molly smiled kindly and shook her outstretched hand. “Nice to meet you! I’m Molly and this is Grey and Daphne.” Grey also shook her hand, but when she turned it towards Daphne she just gave it an icy look and after a few clearly uncomfortable seconds for the poor girl, she slowly lowered it.
“So! How come you moved over to the cooler side of the table?” asked Grey with a grin, gnawing on a piece of chicken leg.
“Well…” she began hesitantly. “They were all talking about how Purebloods were the best and we shouldn't have to hide from the weak Muggles and I just happened to mention that Muggles have done some great things also. We have never gone to the moon! And wizards still died from things like the flu and diabetes until Penicillin and Insulin were discovered by them! But they didn’t like that very much and started being mean to me. So I left and came over here.” She stared morosely down at her food for a few seconds before straightening her shoulders and looking back up with a smile that clearly took a lot of effort to keep up.
“Finally someone told those arrogant pricks off,” said Grey, rolling his eyes. “Think that just ‘cause they are Purebloods they can’t recognize a single good thing that Muggles have done.”
“Exactly!” Penelope said happily. “I mean, I am a Pureblood, but that doesn't mean our family hates Muggles! We get along with them just fine. My Dad even has a few Muggle friends just so he can learn more about them. Plus,” she said, dropping her voice to a pseudo-whisper. “They write much better. Have you seen the stuff they have in the library that they call fiction? Absolutely dreadful, the lot of it.”
“Well, I guess since in most of our fiction involves magic and fantasy creatures we don't have the set rules and concrete knowledge you guys have, we can be a lot more varied and creative with it,” Molly said with a shrug.
“I don't know much about Muggle books. I just prefer the movies,” Grey said, his plate clean and him clearly content.
“Well, what is your favorite movie then?” asked Molly with interest.
“I found 12 Angry Men a highly amusing movie. The thought of all those people in a room arguing about whether someone is guilty or not when they can just use a truth potion to find out whether they committed the crime? Hilarious.” he said with a chuckle. “The whole legal system itself is hilarious, actually, for you Muggles.”
“Well, then how does it work here?” asked Molly, who had never cared a bit about legal workings until now but found herself intrigued for some reason.
“Well, there isn’t really much of a trial here. They get taken in front of the court, the official Wizengamot Potions Master administers a dose of Veritasium to the person accused of the crime and then they are asked the circumstances surrounding the incident. After all relevant information has been asked,” he spreads his hands wide. “The Chief Warlock of the Wizegamot, which happens to be Headmaster Dumbledore at this time, is the leader of a panel of three judges. The Chief Warlock, the Minister of Magic, Amelia Bones, and the Head Auror, who is Alastor Moody right now, make up the three-person panel. The Chief Warlock asks the other members to give a show of hands who they believe is guilty or innocent and then, once he counts the show of hands, he then reads out the official court ruling and what the panel of judges have determined what punishment befits the crime. It is wrapped up in an hour or so and all rather more efficient than your trials that can drag on for days. Seriously, I don’t understand how you Muggles can stand it.”
“Okay, I may admit that your system does sound more efficient.” Molly said. “But what about exceptions and civil cases? There must be some complications!” she protested, feeling the need to defend her court system.
“Anything dealing with money and property is handled by Goblin representatives. And for ones not dealing with those…” He then launched into a long winded explanation, with Penelope and even Daphne jumping in to offer clarifications and corrections. The explanation lasted the entire rest of dinner and even when they went back up to the dorm rooms it continued. Molly lost interest long before it finished, but still they debated on the Muggle vs. Wizard legal systems. Eventually it was time for bed, so Molly washed up and changed, putting her wands away in the bedside drawer and going to sleep, with images of judges and gavels playing in repeat in her dreams.