The way of the sword
The school had only two teachers.
Fencing and Defense Against the Dark Arts were taught by the rambunctious Jean Baptiste Ardouin, and Charms and Transfigurations were taught by Tristram Cailloux, a handsome man Gerard later found out was the son of the headmaster.
The headmaster himself, Monsieur Cailloux, gave additional Potions classes to people who were older than Gerard and his two friends.
The first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson they had with Professor Ardouin was the second time Gerard had a close interaction with Anatole Morin.
"I know the new kids have already met me from Fencing class," the Professor said. He stood up straight, good-looking and vain like a peacock, with his glowing dark skin and his green robes. "Where I taught you the way of the sword. Defense Against the Dark Arts is part of your magical curriculum, but it is a similar subject. Duels can either be resolved with the sword or with the wand. To teach you about the latter, I will have to teach you the Unforgivable Curses."
Anatole raised his hand. Gerard took that time to really look at him. He didn't look particularly arrogant, only with a stern expression on his calm and handsome face. For some reason, Gerard couldn't help but take it personally. This guy didn't seem like the kind of person who would be disgusted at the idea of having a new classmate, but he couldn't help but remember Anatole's frown when the headmaster had introduced him.
"Yes, Morin?" the teacher asked. No discontent in his voice. No clue that he found the student annoying. If anything, there was some kind of fondness for the young prodigy.
"I know the Unforgivable Curses are often used to duel, and so you couldn't possibly explain yourself any better," Anatole said. Gerard thought he was sucking up to the Professor. "But I have one objection. They are terrible, and only a very dark wizard or witch would use them. I can't imagine myself entering a duel with the intention of using any of those three. Not when the sword is also available."
"Morin, is, of course, right," Professor Ardouin said. "You shouldn't use them for attack, only for defense. And knowing what they are, makes it easy to protect yourself against them."
"I object again," Anatole protested. Gerard couldn't help but notice Inès was looking at him with longing and admiration. "No one has ever survived the Killing Curse."
"Morin!" This time, the Professor raised his voice. "I was about to explain it myself..."
"Other than Gerard Touchard," Anatole cried, pointing at the classmate. Gerard tried to make himself very small in his chair, so he wouldn't be noticed. "And no one knows how he managed it. With that streak upon his head... it makes one think the spell has backfired. But how? I can't wrap my head around it. Something so astounding has happened, and no one is trying to study it or examine it..."
"Stop your words, Morin, this is not like you," Professor Ardouin said. "You shouldn't go around saying your classmates have to be examined. Gerard Touchard is not something to study."
"Is he not?" Anatole stood up, and his chair fell behind him. "Then, pray tell, why did the headmaster accept him only on the basis that he is who he is? Isn't it to study him.... a little bit closer?"
"Morin, don't make me give you detention," the Professor was astonished. "You know I don't wish to..."
In the meantime, Gerard seemed to have understood what the prefect's problem was, and decided to finally stand up for himself. Just because he had to be less of a nuisance, now that people didn't know him, it didn't mean he had to keep his tongue under control. At least, he wouldn't be caned for it.
Unless it was what detention was about.
"I see what you're doing, Morin," he exclaimed. "And I don't need it. I can fight my battles myself, thank you very much. I finally understand why you had that obnoxious look on your face when the headmaster announced I made it in the training even though I didn't have the votes. It was not because you were jealous, but because you thought it wasn't fair that I wasn't being treated like anyone else. You're right, I don't like it, but if you haven't noticed it, I didn't say anything, and you'll find I have no trouble standing up for myself when the time comes. I loathed living with my grandparents, so this is why I said nothing. Maybe for a rich boy like yourself, family is no matter, but it was harder for me to live there."
Anatole recoiled, like he'd been slapped. "If you excuse me, Professor..." he muttered, and left the classroom.
Professor Ardouin coughed embarrassed, but went on to explain the Killing Curse. It was the worst curse, and the one he would have usually left for last. The word to invoke it was 'Avada Kedavra', which Inès gladly explained to the class, had Hebrew origins, and the effect was immediate death.
While the Professor was explaining all the warning signs and how to prevent it, Jeanne, one of Filibert's sisters, whispered to Gerard, "Why did you have to talk this way to Anatole?"
Gerard tensed. "Why? Didn't anyone ever do that before?"
"Precisely."
"That is why I needed to do it. He can't get away with everything..."
Charline coughed, as if to announce she was entering the conversation too. "Get away with what? Nobody has ever talked to Anatole this way because he's a golden boy. One of those everyone, students and teachers, like."
"Anatole, a golden boy? What?" Gerard couldn't really wrap his head around it.
"Charline Devereux," Professor Ardouin singled out one of the twins. "Please, explain to the class the first Unforgivable Curse."
Thankfully, Charline looked prepared, for she'd heard some kind of version of the same lesson two years before. "Imperius Curse," she said. "You invoke it with the word, 'Imperio'. It's not the least dangerous just because it's often considered so. If a powerful witch or wizard uses it, then it means they will be able to control your every movement. You become completely malleable to their will."
"Like a Golem," Inès exclaimed, getting a few weird looks from the other students.
After this explanation, Anatole joined the class again. His face was wet, like he had washed it in the toilets, or like he had cried. Both options, however, would mean the same thing.
That Gerard had upset him, and now he was the one who was getting weird looks from the entire class.
"The second Unforgivable Curse," Filibert said, to lighten up the atmosphere. "Is something my sisters have taught me..."
"NO!" Jeanne yelled. "We didn't teach it to you, you remember falsely. We simply... explained to you how it worked."
"Do not worry," Charline whispered to Gerard. "Apparently, it didn't work on objects. Tried it on Filibert's wooden soldier when he was little, but nothing happened."
Gerard, who already had the impression the twins were fiery and intense, didn't really want to hear about the second Curse.
"Cruciatus Curse," Filibert enunciated, like one who was reading, with great difficulty, from a book, but wanted to try to make a good impression either way. "You use the word, 'Crucio'. It's torture, and torture beyond imagining. To do something like that to a person... it would require a wicked mind and a despicable personality. It's hard to picture someone using it for defense either."
The Professor seemed pleased, but a little sheepish. "In fact," he said, like one who was walking on eggshells. "This subject is called Defense Against the Dark Arts, not Dark Arts. Stop saying that we might need to do those things, one day."
"But we might need them!" Anatole cried out, his terrible mood back in action again. He looked pale and he was trembling. "We might need to use them... and they will have no trouble using them against us."
"Is everything alright, Morin?" the Professor asked.
"No," Anatole said. "I think I need to use the toilet again..."
But this time, the prefect didn't make it as far as the toilet. He threw up in the middle of the classroom.
Later that day, they had Fencing practice. It was something personal for each student, to decide how and when they wanted to practice, but some days it was mandatory. It was, however, something they did without the supervision of a Professor, since they had the prefects watching over them.
"I can't wait to try out Transfigurations," Inès said, trying out her new fencing moves. "So far, we already had Charms with Professor Cailloux, and he really is as handsome as people always say. He looks a little sad, though, don't you think? Like he has something weighing on his mind?"
Gerard nodded. He couldn't help but think of Anatole and the way he'd thrown up. The Professor wasn't the only one with secrets. And something he hadn't had the luxury of figuring out so far -- Gerard himself had a bigger package everyone gave him credit for. It was not like his classmates thought of him as exceptional, many had been asked to duel and they already thought of him as the devil. But no one knew how much of a failure he felt, how much he wanted to become like his father and clean his mother's name.
While he was thinking about this, he stumbled into Filibert and almost thrust his sword in the friend's neck.
"Watch where you're going!" Filibert exclaimed, only to notice, later, how it sounded. Scolding Gerard would probably remind his friend that he didn't have the right qualifications to make it into the school.
"Jacques would never do that," Gerard laughed. "I know."
"What?"
"Just something my grandmother used to say," he explained. "Jacques is my father. Every time I do something wrong, 'Jacques would never do that.' But my father has never liked his parents much, in fact he married my mother in secret because she was a commoner and with Muggle heritage. They still talk very... poorly, about her."
"I'm sorry, that must be horrible," Inès said. "You speak as if you'd known them." She bit her lip. This was, too, the worst thing to say to someone who had been orphaned so young. "I mean, I'm just curious..."
"Nothing special," Gerard shrugged. "No magical connection or something like that. I don't even have a Pensieve where I can see what they did. But my father has written thousands of letters, both to my mother when they were on quests, and to their closest friends, and I've read them all. I know them by heart."
"Wow, I already knew you were stubborn," Filibert congratulated his friend. "But I have the impression you can really do everything you want to, if you put your mind to it. Do you know what this means, right? Next year, the three of us will be prefects. There is no stopping us."
At that moment, Anatole stopped near the group. He'd been walking around, hoping not to draw any attention to him while he was checking out the new kids.
Not drawing any attention, Gerard thought, was an impossible task for Anatole.
"You're so fed up with your prefects, Devereux, that you'd like to change them already?" Anatole asked, but he was smiling. "May I remind you that your sister Charline is a prefect, too?"
"Well," Inès replied quickly, as if to make a good impression on the older guy. "Charline is in her last year of Auror training."
"But I'm not," Anatole said, still smiling. "And because we are poor in numbers, only two can be prefects at the same time."
Maybe Gerard was imagining it, but when he was saying this last part, Anatole's eyes fixed on him and didn't move away.
When Anatole left, Inès commented, "You could have so much in common with Anatole, Gerard. I don't see why you don't like him."
"I don't see why all of you do," was the only thing Gerard had to say to that.