Chapter Text
Dumbledore then goes on to explain some sort of child death game. The kids may not kill each other directly, but they throw children into a meat grinder of challenges to pay the winner a thousand galleons or whatever the currency is in this world.
This time around, they are only letting children 17 or older compete by placing their names in the Goblet of Fire, another magical object they use to make judgements for them. I thought it was fascinating how quickly wizards would give over decisions to magical artifacts while people without magic were hesitant to let artificial intelligence make decisions for them.
Maybe the difference came to personal power. Wizards and witches could bend reality and be entirely self-sufficient with a little bit of scholastic effort. Regular human industry was a collective affair. A wizard could always fuck off into the woods, throw up some glamors, and make a tower to live in seclusion. They always had personal agency. They could always opt-out of the systems making decisions for them. A regular human needs immense skill to barely pass at self sufficiency and live in relative squalor. Even if they were successful, other humans could sabotage their efforts and easily force them off their land. Regular humans lack agency in many facets of life. Giving up more to machines feels wrong when other people already take so much.
Of course, the wizarding world is not one burgeoning with rugged individualism as evidenced by who made the food. When the feast wraps up, Vex and I nod to each other and meet in a secluded hallway. I check over my map again.
“Now, are you sure these locations are clear of flammable debris?” I confirm with Chrissie.
“Yeah, I checked them myself.”
I nod. “Alright, I’ll give you a 5 minute head start and then follow you.” I then carefully pull back the painting to reveal a small hole.
Vex then turns into a honey badger (or ratel) and crawls through the hole. In our short month at this institution, she was already an animagus. It was some complicated ritual that Vex found shortcuts for. I didn’t bother looking into it because my self transfigurations tend to fuck up catastrophically. My cybernetics, especially the constructor beams, react oddly to the traditional spells. A few of my attempts resulted in my flesh morphing and being cut through by my metal parts. I laid there in a flayed heap until the spell duration ran out, or my flesh regenerated around the transformation and healed.
I was still working on it. It wasn’t all losses. The relatively easy mending spells worked on my cybernetics, which finally gave me a quicker way to repair them.
Since enough time passed for Vex, I cast a silence charm on myself and then teleported. Apparition was warded against in Hogwarts, but the wards were full of holes. My parahuman ability easily got around them. Though, I wasn’t sure if a nonparahuman power negator could prevent parahuman powers from working. It’s not something anyone else has run into yet.
Flames burst around me and briefly illuminated the dark alcove of hidden passageways within the walls of Hogwarts. Having the effect be silent for once is novel. I make three more hops before I have to crawl through a tunnel into the kitchens.
There I see small spindly brown humanoids wearing filthy sackcloths. These creatures are known as House Elves. They are a slave race the wizards subjugated so long ago that their histories don’t record the event. If I had to guess, I would assume they were purpose bred and magic warped to create a creature that would feel compelled to follow their masters orders. The compulsion is so strong that they will punish themselves should they slip and violate an order.
The only way to free a House Elf from the compulsion is for one of their masters to give them an article of clothing. Yet we aren’t here to distribute socks. No, House Elf culture has been built around these chains. The survivors are either willing or are able to convince themselves that they are willing.
First, we must free them from the prisons of their minds.
Vex beat me here, but we were both beaten by another enterprising activist.
“I understand that you feel that you are treated well now, but what about the future? What about your children? A united workforce is the first step to equitable treatment for everyone. I’m not asking for much, just that you consider being unified in matters.”
“Kermit?” He seemed to be at a stopping point. “Why are you here?”
“If it isn’t Sabah’s friend, Taylor. Well-” He gestures around the room with his thin green arms. “-when I saw our friends here, I had to check in on them. You would be surprised where all Muppets end up. I try to make sure that they are treated fairly. They aren’t Muppets, but they are workers, and nonunion workers at that.” The felt creature shudders.
“I didn’t know you were a union man.”
“I am a union frog, thank you very much!” He crosses his arms and mushes his face together to look up in offense. The frog forgives me quickly and continues in a relaxed manner, “The Muppets might be a worker cooperative with no bosses to negotiate with, but our brothers and sisters on Sesame Street work for PBS. They were working that poor kid, Elmo, to death before we unionized. Mr. Snuffleupagus was convinced he wasn’t real by management. We’re still trying to get all his back wages.” The frog shakes himself. “Sorry, my point is, I can’t stand to see nonunion support staff and crew. Unions for everybody!” Kermit gesticulates wildly, flapping his arms in the air like one of attractions to car lots. His mouth expanded and opened to the ceiling in manic ecstasy while his eyes were opened so wide that I couldn’t see his eyelids. They were like two white orbs glued to his head with a slit and dot for pupils.
Whatever else you can say, the frog has passion.
So much passion that a few of the house elves were giving him the occasional glance.
“Well, we’re just here to hand out literature.” I start passing out my bag of communist propaganda. We can’t do too much today. There are centuries or thousands of years of programming to undo. I speak to house elves. “I hope it is permissible for us to give you some literature. I would like you to read it.”
That last sentence was a gamble. These are the House Elves of Hogwarts. Every student or teacher could give them clothes and free them, but the elves would have to accept the gift. That also meant we could order them. Of course, the control of House Elves is not perfect. If a wizard can’t manage the barest kindness to his House Elf, then he may find the House Elf maliciously complying with orders. While ‘I would like you to read it’ could be interpreted as an order, it can also be interpreted as my idle musings.
This lets the House Elves think I am respecting their culture by ordering them to do something, while giving those unwilling a way to ignore the command. I have no quibbles about playing into their systems to expose them to new ideas.
I notice Chrissie slipping in anarchist literature such as ‘Anarchism and Other Essays’, ‘The Conquest of Bread’, ‘Chomsky On Anarchism’, and ‘The Dispossessed: An Ambiguous Utopia’, a decent enough selection, I guess. It wasn’t the plan, but I’ve been questioning my decisions to unilaterally declare my authority through violence since all those talks with Aster.
So, I let it slide. Chrissie is a willful friend who I’ve been a bit shitty to over the years. I’ve been kind of shitty to all my friends. It hasn’t been bad enough to degrade our friendships, but I’ve been looking back over the years and seeing moments where I was needlessly cruel or unkind simply because I thought I could get away with it and still have them as friends.
Having someone else try to corrupt my morals, just as I’m getting a little better, made me realize what a shitty thing that is to do to someone. If I wasn’t the one providing shelter, safety, and resources as the world fell, I doubt many of them would have stuck around.
The past is the past, barring time wizards, the only option is to move forward and try better.
The House Elves aren’t super responsive to the attempts of Vex and I. We lacked the raw charisma of Kermit, but that is fine. This is just canvassing, a casting of seeds of an idea. Time will let us know what is growing. We can focus on those later.
As this goes on, a younger witch with a mop of brown hair enters the kitchen by folding open a secret entrance. She stares at us in shock, but then decides her priority should be talking with the elves.
“Um, how are you treated?”
“With kindness, Mistress.”
“Do you like working here?”
“I certainly do, Mistress.”
“Are you paid?”
“In kindness, Mistress.”
This continues for a while as the girl grows more upset at their lack of vacation days and other worker concessions that she appears to be used to.
“This is horrible. There has to be some way to free you!”
“We do not want that, Mistress. Please don’t insult us by suggesting it, Mistress.”
I make a ‘tsk’ sound and motion Vex over to the girl with my chin. She nods in understanding, moves over to the girl and wraps an arm around her shoulder to speak in confidence with the young activist.
“I appreciate the energy sis, but you gotta know how far and how fast you can push people.”
The animated brown mop responds. “There has to be something we can do. Maybe we can form an organization or something. You people seem concerned. That would be members from all four houses with just the four of us!” Since the Muppets were extensions of Sabah and could all cast magic, they were considered part of Hufflepuff. Surprisingly few students questioned it once they learned we were from America. Our oddities fit within that difference to them.
“Uh, I would have to ask the boss about that.” Vex glances my way which causes the young Gryffindor witch to narrow her eyes at me with suspicion.
“I think we’ve worn out our welcome among the exemplary kitchen staff of Hogwarts. We should probably leave them to their work. Wouldn’t you agree, Kermit?”
The frog seemed troubled. “I suppose this is enough.” Many of the elves looked relieved. “For today.” Many of those same elves gain looks of apprehension as the frog makes a felt fist. His glassy eyes cooling into steely ones of determination. He reminds me of my father back when he was a simple union man sans that Kermit would’ve gotten the ferry running again. He epitomized the velvet glove to my iron hand.
We left the elves to their work that they claimed to enjoy. I wonder how many of them were too scared to speak up. Would they have had to punish themselves for uttering discontent?
–
“That’s why I think our organization should be called S.P.E.W. (the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare).”
The mess of brown hair was called Hermione. She is unfortunately a neoliberal, maybe a social liberal at best. While that probably describes Kermit's hidden political beliefs, he remained focused on what was important and saw enough issues with S.P.E.W. to not jump to agreement.
Vex was a bit more blunt. “How about E.L.F.? Elf Liberation Front.”
Hermione stared at the woman, expecting her to continue since her reasoning behind S.P.E.W. took 10 minutes to fully articulate. When Vex wasn’t forthcoming, she responded, “That sounds violent when we want a peaceful organization.” That at least, Kermit nodded along to. Hermione noticed the lack of response from Vex and me. “This would be peaceful, right?”
“Any organization formed should be with elf members. Our first duty is to find those willing for something better and support them. I’m unbothered about how much direct political action a magical slave species feels is necessary.” Surprisingly Kermit nodded along to this as well. He noticed my look of surprise.
“I support what the Gelflings did to the Skeksis. Not every Muppet knows their history, but it's not easy being green.”
“But… None of them seem willing. We could get wizards to treat them better.” Hermione wanted us to do something now without getting the target groups buy-in.
I start chuckling. The girl looks offended. I sober to answer her properly. “Fostering a sense of noblesse oblige is not a long term solution to the class struggle.” I stand up. “Besides, if it is truly impossible to sway the elves, then what is the point? If they are so truly mind controlled that they can’t be convinced to desire better treatment, then why bother?”
“Now wait one second.” The frog interrupts. “I think you are missing the real currency they deal in. The elves only value kindness. In a way that is beautiful. We have to understand them before they can understand us.”
Vex and I share a look. Neither of us really believe all the elves are living like this willingly. We make our goodbyes and sneak back to our respective dorms.
–
The Slytherin dorms are far more crowded now that all the students are in attendance. As such, my presence is noted as I enter and head up to my room. Us ‘Americans’ caused a bit of stir. Some of the older boys are particularly upset by the presence of Tammi and Rebecca. I overheard them planning to ‘scare and rough up the mudbloods’ tonight. I’ll hang around Alexandria’s room to watch that shitshow, but first I go to find Tammi.
She doesn’t respond when I knock on her door, so I use a charm to open the door and walk in anyways. My dangersense flares prompting me to tilt my head out of the way as a rune empowered book flies past it.
“Hey Tammi, are you on edge?” The woman looks nervous and frightened.
“They all hate me.”
I can’t help but giggle with schadenfreude. “It’s not nearly so fun on the receiving end, is it?”
She scowls at me. “What do you want?”
“Aside from welcoming you to the out-group? Alright, I’m here to let you know that some of the older kids plan to assault you tonight.”
She puts her hands to the side of her head. “The hell am I supposed to do? All these kids have incredibly dangerous powers while I have a month of training and the ability to fling stuff at people.”
I hand her a sock full of coins, some darkness powder, and tripping marbles. Most of these are common prank items, but my tactical thinker power told me these would be sufficient. “Most of these kids KNOW they are superior and never put much effort into actually being superior. House Elves do their chores, the government does their violence, and their money buys everything else. They are going to cram for the N.E.W.T.S. they need to pass and maybe know a couple dozen spells for most of their adult life. The ones that feel the need to express their superiority with ‘hazing’ are especially incompetent. I think you could manage to defend yourself with quick and sudden violence.”
Tammi takes the items and looks more worried. I don’t particularly care what happens to her. Though, that particular worried look reminds me of someone.
“Say… we were interrupted before, but what was that about your daughter?”
In a rush, Tammi’s worry is forgotten, and she glares at me. “I don’t know how you found out about that, but don’t talk about her to me.”
I raise my hands up in a calming motion. “I didn’t know. I ran across someone with a similar enough power that I thought she could have been yours, so I wanted to know if you had any kids.”
She stands up and gets in my face, not with anger, but with sudden concern. “What was her name?”
“Uh, she went by Terra.”
“Blonde hair, blue eyes, threw around earth?”
“Yeah! Her.”
“How was she?”
“Some villain was trying to groom her, but she ended up in something like the Wards.”
Tammi sits down on the bed with a relieved expression. “Thanks…” She mutters softly. “She ran away from us ages ago. It was hard to keep track of anyone those days. I didn’t know if she managed to make it out or if she was killed by Scion, Aegis, or any of the other horrible things that stalked Bet. I… I don’t know what I did.”
“Just to throw this out there, but do you think she ran away from your awful racism?”
Her fists tighten, but her gaze is far off. “She found my Scribe costume. She thought I was a hero secretly infiltrating our community to bring it down from within. She wanted to ‘help me’. When she learned that I actually believed our group was better for who we excluded, she… She didn’t take that well and abandoned us. I’ve been worried about her ever since.” Tammi is silent for a few moments. “Was she happy when you saw her?”
“A little shaken up, but I think so. You would hate how diverse her friend group is.”
“I thought she was dead. A rebellious living daughter who doesn’t talk to me is better than a corpse.”
I wonder what Rune was like as a mom, probably shit. I cast a disillusionment charm on myself and hung outside Rebecca’s door. I really wanted to see how she would react.
I was not disappointed. She broke every limb of her assailants, but then cast spells from their wands and arranged the unconscious bodies so that it looked like they did it to themselves. She then went to fetch a teacher to help the kids who brawled in front of her room after obliviating their last month of memories.
In the morning, I learned that Tammi didn’t fare nearly so well and got detention for assaulting students for ‘no reason’. Weirdly enough, all the witnesses corroborated the students' side of the story. In their story, Tammi attacked a group of boys, outside a girl’s room, entirely unprovoked, and they were merely defending themselves.
It had to be a knife in the gut when Tammi saw that her assailants were part of Aster’s growing following. When Tammi asked why, Aster said, “Everyone has their proper place. Surely your faith in the cause hasn’t grown so weak that your place shifting would shatter it.” She leaned in to whisper, “It’s not like they would have done any lasting harm. Is a little pain not worth a stronger movement with more allies?”
Tammi looked heartbroken to realize that even after a lifetime of racism and directly serving Kaiser that she wasn’t ‘one of the good ones’, or that if she was, the distinction didn’t matter.
I gave her a pat on the back and picked her up. “Come on, it’s time for class.” She still looked shaken. “Yeah, it’s all less appealing when it is applied to you, isn’t it?”
She gets angry and pulls her arm away. “It’s not the first time. You were there. The ABB hated us because we were white.”
I suppressed an eyeroll. “Hmmm, it’s a little different when it’s backed by the institution isn’t it? There is no one to run to. The law won’t help you. Those with power don’t support you. This society's version of heroes is more likely to take their side than yours because they agree with them. You could violently resist, but your only allies are the least powerful and least connected individuals.” I step closer. “The cloying sensation that you can’t escape, that danger is coming from all sides, that everyone is out to get you because many of them are. Tell me that doesn’t feel different than a couple gangbangers calling you ‘whitey’.”
Tammi gets redder, but she can’t find the words to respond. She storms off to class.
–
My class schedule was an actual nightmare. It’s like someone put a sensible class schedule and hit ‘randomized’. Apparently that is what Hogwarts does. Normal schools have people whose full time job is to arrange class schedules. Here, they cast a spell to do all the work for them.
I have a different order of classes everyday. There are 20 slots and 8 classes. That means some classes get three blocks per week for no discernible reason. All hail the magical spell algorithm, I guess.
Whatever, I head to Potions with the Gryffindor twats.
That class would have been fine if Victoria didn’t keep trying to throw ingredients into my cauldron. That wasn’t entirely just her being bitchy. Aisha kept sabotaging her potions and making it look like I did it. Neither of us could remember she existed when Victoria confronted me about it. I was oscillating wildly between being bemused at Aisha’s prank to being very irate with Victoria for assuming I did something I didn’t do.
Imp’s pranks are far more annoying when I wasn’t immune to her powers.
The only other bit of notable drama was Tammi struggling to find a partner. Everyone in Slytherin was either too racist to want to partner with her or didn’t like her because of her racism. Ironically, the regular Slytherin students picked on Tammi’s ‘backwards American muggle prejudices’ and reviled her for them.
Eventually she ended up stuck with Rebecca, who wasn’t kind to ‘the idiot’.
“Grind more Motherwort, Scribe!” Rebecca decided to use her Ward’s name to both remind Tammi why she was tolerating her and to seem like an insult to all the regular students.
The day blurred together after that until Defense Against the Dark Arts. Neither Charms or Transfiguration held my attention. All the classes were a struggle really. With my inhibited learning abilities while on school grounds, it was far more difficult to retain and learn new information. My time at Hogsmeade entirely eclipsed any other studying I did. I saw classes as a place to practice spells in a group setting or listen to a unique perspective the professor would have on a topic. Some professors were a bit more showy than others.
Mad-Eye Moody limped class reeking of polyjuice potion, his titular eye rolling around and looking at all angles. If he was going to use such a labor intensive potion on a daily basis for a disguise, then why look like that? I was tempted to ask him about it, but then that would let him know I saw through the disguise that he must use to throw off Death Eaters. Best to avoid a touchy subject like that.
“Put your books away!” The professor whirled to the class. “You’ve studied dark creatures passably, but you are behind on curses.”
The man then proceeded to take out three jars of spiders.
“We’ll be looking at the three unforgivable curses today. The same ones that would send a caster, outside of an educational setting, directly to Azkaban. They are the ones a Death Eater is most likely to use, so those are the ones you need to know about first.”
Fascist laziness never ceased to amaze me. There are a endless number of lethal curses, charms, and transfigurations with a variety of uses and optimal situations, but the wizard nazis focused on the edgiest ones that were single target spells for control, torture, and killing, all important cornerstones in the fascist diet.
“First, we’ll be looking at the Imperius Curse. A dark wizard can cast this on target to have long term control at great distance on their victim. The spell is nearly undetectable. Many of the worst offenders of the Wizarding War claimed to be under the effects of the curse the entire time.”
I snorted at the idea of Nazis getting away with all their crimes by claiming mind control, just another highlight of why prisons and justice systems were inherently flawed concepts, much like laws and governments.
“Oh you think that is funny, do you Miss Hebert?” He picks up a jar. “I was going to demonstrate the curse on this spider, but if you think it is so trivial, then why don’t you try the curse yourself?”
I push out of my desk and walk up to the front of the class. “Alright, I’m game. Hit me.” I was kind of curious how hard this curse was to resist. I only knew that it could be resisted, which was an odd concept to me, since most Master effects either worked or didn’t.
The mad professor flicks his wand at me. “Imperio!” The magical effect entirely ignored my Huntress Aura.
What little sense of responsibility or anxiety I had evaporates into nothing. I suddenly had no moral issues with whatever the professors suggested I do, but I didn’t have those issues in the first place.
He motioned for me to dance, and I felt a strong compulsion to do so. It was actually stronger than the compulsion I had to kill the man and everyone else in the room. Still…
I did not move because I did not will myself to move.
The professor frantically flicked his wand to induce a reaction. He eventually scowls and performs the curse on the spider to make it do a little dance. “As Miss Hebert has demonstrated, with effort, an iron will, and training, a person can resist the effects of this curse.” Oh did that mean the ‘imperious defense’ only worked for Death Eaters that were declared legally weak willed? “I am curious where you found tutors to master that skill.”
There was already whispering among the regular students that I must have been training with dark wizards and witches from a young age, rumors started by Aster. I shrugged my shoulders at the professor.
He harrumphed. “Perhaps you would try yourself on the Cruciatus Curse as well. If you are going to use it on your fellow students, then you should know what it feels like. Yes, I heard all about your ‘innate magic’.” Aster nods excitedly. “That may work for the law, for now, new ones are always being passed, but that doesn’t absolve what you did in my eye.”
I wave a hand towards myself. This was another curse I wanted to try on myself.
He once again points his wand at me. “Crucio!” and exactly nothing happens.
“I’m immune to pain.” I was wondering how universal that was. I knew it worked against my own Pain Blast when I killed myself as Anchorage with myself as Nemean.
The professor tilts his head. “Hmmm, a good defense. Most pain numbing charms fail to this curse.” His eye swivels up and down my frame. “Not what you have… Hmmm, more innate magic.” He lowers his wand and then repeats the curse on a spider, which writhes until death. “Without Miss Hebert’s unique protections, this is a curse to simply avoid. A strong will merely lets you last longer.” He turns to me. “Sit down. The next curse can’t be cast at students regardless of how much paperwork I fill out.”
I rejoin the rest of the class. The regular students are giving me wary looks while the parahumans roll their eyes at my antics.
“The killing curse has only been survived by the boy who lived when he defeated the dark lord as an infant. I believe he is in Gryffindor this year. You could ask him how he managed it.” I look to Aisha to see if there is a guy who killed someone as a baby really in her house. She nods to me.
Well! That’s someone I want to meet. The youngest murderer I know is my sister who killed people when she was 6.
This curse was said to just kill the target, without a mechanism, 100% of the time. It could be a silver bullet for Scion, but I had to see. The professor pointed his wand at the remaining spider. “Avada Kedavra!” A very slow moving bolt of green energy flew towards the spider and killed it instantly.
My interest waned immediately. That bolt was slower than a bullet. It looked like a green lightning bolt to the untrained eye at short distances, but my fellow parahumans knew better. Lilly was particularly unimpressed, her own primary power being similar but far more flexible.
Unfortunately, it looked like the ‘undefendable’ killing curse could easily be evaded, which made it entirely useless against Scion.
I quickly grew bored with the rest of the class. This whole course was a trainwreck because the professor kept switching each year. There was no rhyme or reason to lesson plans from previous years because some of the professors would be fired for banal reasons like incompetence. For all we knew, Moody was giving a similar lecture to first years.
I was able to get some more spell practice before dinner. I hated having to eat. Once upon a time, I might have enjoyed a flare up in human need. Now all it does is annoy me. Especially when everything tastes like muted damp nutrient paste. Needless to say, I was already in a foul mood when entering the Great Hall.
I wander over to the Gryffindor table to find Aisha. “Hey, where is that kid who killed someone as a baby?”
“Harry? He’s the kid with the scar over there.”
I wander that way and sit down. Victoria happens to be sitting across from me and enjoying her meal. She looks up and glares at me. “Get the fuck away from me.”
“You know I loved her more than anything.”
“That didn’t stop you, did it?”
“Look, I’m here to talk with the kid who managed to kill someone as a baby.” At that, Harry and his two friends gave me an apprehensive look.
“Oh? Are you on the lookout for baby self defense techniques before you give killing another one a try?”
“She was two. I never shot a baby.”
“That’s not better.”
I sigh and turn to the boy who lived, but he already fled with his friends. Was it something I said? Rather than continue to be hazed by Victoria, I go to the Hufflepuff table to sit between Amelia and Cookie Monster, the blue Muppet had been helping Amelia with her diet by eating the desserts off her plate. I scrape mine off on his plate too. I’m a little envious of how he can enjoy food without taste buds.
“How was the first day of real school?”
“Me learn how to turn broccoli into cookies.”
I pat the creature. “Thanks for that, but I would like to hear from Amelia now.” I’ve learned not to be aggressive with the Muppets. It only seems to attract more of them until they break out into song to teach you the error of your ways. It didn’t work for me, but I would rather avoid the multi hour ordeal.
“OK!”
Amelia holds up a piece of broccoli with her fork. The blue monster waves his wand and sure enough the green vegetable turned into a chocolate chip cookie. She then hurriedly shoves it into her mouth before Cookie Monster can grab it. She spends a couple minutes chewing before talking to me. “What? It’s a temporary spell, so the nutrition is still the same as broccoli.”
“Don’t you have a custom bacteriome and several implants to regulate your body weight? Why are you dieting?”
She immediately pouts a little. “There is only so much those systems can do, and I still need certain nutrients and minerals. I used to cut shakes with nutrient paste or vitamins, but neither of those are here.” She sips on her shake.
We joke for the rest of the meal while I lament with her on the need to maintain a balanced diet.
The rest of the week passes by in a jumble. Monday, I had Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Tuesday, I had Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, Magical Theory, and Magical Art. Wednesday I had Magical Theory, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, and Potions. Thursday, I had Charms, Care of Magical Creatures, Transfiguration, and Potions. Friday, I had Magical Art, Transfiguration, Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Herbology.
Oddly enough, I enjoyed classes inversely proportional to their utility. I doubt Herbology or Care of Magical Creatures helps against Scion or even works well outside of this universe, but they were fun. Professor Hagrid has these weird bug creatures that we were expected to cuddle. I think taking those classes with Hufflepuff also made them more tolerable. Sabah’s companions were always causing chaos in the background.
My favorite class was Magical Art taught by Professor Burbage. She was also the muggle studies professor, but us Americans got out of having to take that. I had a lot of opinions about Art. Wizards and witches approached it in an entirely different way. Their means and materials were far removed from regular humans. The technical skill of pieces did not improve nearly as much throughout the ages but that is because they were capable of realistic representation far sooner.
Magical Art tended to lean either towards the utilitarian or the abstract. Making something that was useful look fancy was a timeless skill. The abstract art could be out there enough to make even my head hurt. Ciara obsessed over it. She spent the practical portion of class trying to represent what Scion actually looked like. She knew and wanted us all to know. I was all for learning more about my enemy.
That weekend at Hogsmeade, I was pounding my head in against the wand fabrication problem. In frustration, I turned my focus to spell design. There was a particular transfiguration that I wanted to try. It seemed so simple, so easy, that it shocked me that no one coined a similar spell before.
I tried it out on a mouse first. It worked. I tried it out myself, and I had the normal problems I do with such spells. Recasting the spell to reverse it flayed me a second time. After cleaning up the room, I invited Amelia and Lisa up to teach them the spell.
Amelia was horrified, but Lisa tried the spell out for a few minutes and had a laugh before reversing it.
“Most metamorphic magic is extremely difficult. Yet this was very simple. Which is shocking for how extensive it is.”
I waved off Lisa's compliment. “The spell has to set an arbitrary axis to shift around. That is why it only gives someone access to one new form while recasting it shifts them right back. You could have a whole genre of spells based around these concepts, just like levitation.”
“Oh no... I don’t think your plan is going to go over well.”
“People have a right to know.” I made a lot of copies of the scroll for my new spell. I hid them all around Hogwarts to spread the knowledge. Lisa was right. After a couple of days, I was called into Dumbledore’s office to explain myself.