A Little Knowledge

It wasn’t long before curfew that evening when Ignatius Ambrose and the other, older prefects walked into the common room. Sometime earlier Sissy had silently taken her place with her friends near the window as the much favored spot in front of the hearth was already occupied. They had not questioned her about her visit yet, but Olivia, not to mention Martin, was very curious. But they could all tell that she was a bit disturbed by whatever had happened and probably therefore loath to talk about the matter, especially in a place so public as the common room.

“Can I have your attention please?” asked Ambrose, clearing his throat loudly.

“No,” muttered one of his fellow fifth years without so much as looking up from the game of chess he was playing.

The other prefects looked at Ambrose with expressions ranging from indulgence to amusement before one of the seventh year prefects went to stand in the middle of the room.

Broderick Bode looked around at the Ravenclaws, only about half of whom were paying any attention, and asked, “What about me then?” He had a wry half-smile on his somewhat shallow face as he spoke.

The rest of the students looked up at that. Bode was taken a lot more seriously than arrogant Ambrose. Everyone had thought during the previous term that he was going to be Head Boy, but rumor had it that his marks in Herbology weren’t up to snuff compared to the other students vying for the position. But he was still well-respected nonetheless.

“Professor Flitwick has informed us that curfew has been changed for this term. Students will not be permit outside the common rooms after dark without an escort. This means that, when it is deemed necessary, the prefects will be escorting the rest of you from the Great Hall following dinner and that by mid-November, Quidditch practices will end promptly at six o’clock. There will be prefects in the library from seven o’clock until eight to escort students between there and the Aerie. The grounds are strictly off-limits after sunset and before sunrise,” Bode informed them somberly.

There was a lot of grumbling from many of the students who were still enjoying, or hoping to enjoy, the nice weather outside before it grew cold or rainy. Ambrose looked particularly sour about the Quidditch announcement, which would shave an hour off all of their practices. Corinna experienced a stab of guilt as she felt a bit relieved by the news. But all of them could understand that the precautions were only sensible and reasonable ones.

Then Bode turned toward where the group was sitting with their books, quills, and parchments and pointed to them: “You five have an appointment with Professor Flitwick.”

They all clambered to their feet. Martin had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Olivia and Corinna were blushing a brilliant shade of crimson. Sissy’s face was almost blank, though her eyes were oddly wide. Sophia simply stared at the floor as though she hoped it would swallow her whole. They were all keenly aware of the curious stares of their house mates, most of whom remained unaware of their involvement in the situation.

“Ambrose, please take them to his office,” instructed Bode.

“Right away,” said the younger prefect.

They followed Ambrose down the stairs of the Aerie and then through the corridor leading toward the West Tower. They all walked in silence, including the prefect, who had his wand drawn as though he expected an attack. Sissy almost sneered. An attack would not be coming so soon. The vampire’s appetite had been temporarily sated. There was little doubt about that.

At a small oak door, they paused and Ambrose knocked. A high voice from inside bade them to enter. The prefect opened the door and ushered them inside. Sissy and Olivia were forced to duck. The office was uniquely suited to the Lilliputian professor, although inside it was rather large, despite the low ceiling. Ambrose closed the door behind them with a quick ‘good evening, sir’ to Professor Flitwick.

“Please, have a seat,” said their head of house, gesturing to five chairs set in front of his desk. They had probably been conjured for the occasion.

Nervous and shuffling, they all took their places in front of his desk. Olivia was trying not to cry now as Flitwick looked over his low desk at them. She knew that they would be receiving a stern lecture concerning their conduct, which was certainly unbefitting Ravenclaws. Being out after hours ... the scandal they had probably caused ... Sissy’s impertinent questions about Knowles in front of the other professors ... Merlin only knew what else.

“I’ve never been teased about my students by Professor Dumbledore. Other professors certainly, but not by him,” said Flitwick, although he did not seem very upset by this.

Olivia looked up a little and said, “We’re sorry, sir.”

Sissy raised an eyebrow to let her know that she could speak for herself. But she had the grace and poise to say nothing aloud.

“Don’t be, Miss Scarrow. In a manner of speaking it was rather flattering,” said Flitwick as his eyes drifted to a dueling plaque that hung on his wall in an unobtrusive location. “You all acted quite ... bravely,” he added, “although perhaps I should say recklessly as well.”

Olivia started to open her mouth to say something.

“I’m not one for assigning blame,” said Flitwick, holding up his hand to stop her. “You were all out of bounds after hours. You will all be treated accordingly,” he said, trying to look more stern, which was very difficult for him.

The students exchanged miserable glances. Sophia and Corinna in particular were rather anxious that they would be sent to Mister Pringle. They had heard terrible stories about whips and chains from the older students, all of whom spoke his name with a certain dread. Not that Ravenclaw house was home to a lot of troublemakers, but they still had access to the lurid tales from other houses and a few Gryffindors had scars to show off for the younger students of any house.

Of course, as any older student could have told them, if they wished to do so, Professor Flitwick had not sent any student to Pringle in almost seven years time and was not about to change that position for their case.

“Miss Colville, you will be serving detention with Professor Krohn for the next five afternoons. Mister Dumbledore, you will be spending some quality time with your father every morning before breakfast starting tomorrow. Miss Bellew, your time will be spent with Professor Mallaghan, although ... I’m not sure what he can possibly have planned,” said Flitwick with a puzzled look.

“And us, sir?” asked Sissy, gesturing to Olivia and herself.

“Miss Scarrow will be with me. As you may have noticed, the Charms’ classroom is in quite a state these days,” he said with a small smile, which he quickly tried to suppress. “As for your detentions, Miss Howard, that matter is still under consideration. I should have a schedule for you by tomorrow morning,” said Flitwick.

“If I may ask, sir, how were these detentions arranged?” questioned Sophia.

“Oh, well, I suppose you could say that staff members drew lots,” said Flitwick in an off-hand manner.

They had all, with the exception of Sissy and perhaps Corinna, ended up with their favorite professors. Olivia suspected that they were being punished without really being punished. It had worked out rather neatly.

“You may have noticed that this is hardly more than a slap on the wrist. Let me assure you that any further funny business will not be treated in such a ... a casual manner,” he warned them.

“Of course not, sir,” said Sophia, who was feeling quite grateful.

“All of you were very fortunate, in more ways than one, and I hope you realize that,” he added.

They all nodded that they did indeed understand, especially Corinna, who glanced first at Olivia and then at Martin.

“Very good,” said Flitwick. “Mister Ambrose is waiting outside to return you to the Aerie. You may go.”

The crowd in the common room had thinned out substantially by the time the five students returned with the prefect, feeling for the most part relieved and still a little confused. The girls all wanted to talk, so much that Olivia felt as though it would kill her to stay quiet for a moment longer. But if they wanted to do so, it would mean retreating to their dormitory so that they could not be overheard, and that would mean abandoning Martin.

“Shall we adjourn to the other room?” asked Sissy evenly, noticing Olivia’s impatient and furtive glances toward the stairs as they began gathering their things.

Martin looked vaguely crestfallen when the other three witches all nodded in agreement, but he held his tongue.

“Good-night, Martin,” said Corinna with a sympathetic smile. She knew that he only naturally wanted in on the conversation too.

“I might as well turn in since I have to see my father before breakfast tomorrow,” he said with a mechanical shrug.

“Too bad we can’t drag Martin up here with us,” said Olivia wistfully as they walked up the stairs to their dormitory.

“Think of the scandal,” said Sophia, shaking her head.

“That’s nice!” Olivia shot back as they entered and closed the door behind them.

Sissy went about lighting the lamps as Corinna just shook her head at the other two girls. How they had ever come to be such good friends, she would never fully understand.

“Who do you suppose will be handling your detentions, Sissy?” asked Sophia, deciding that discretion was the better part of valor when arguing with someone so fierce and stubborn as Olivia. This course of action was not at all unusual for her.

“Professor Knowles, if he is able ...” she answered, taking at seat at the window, but hardly bothering to glance outside.

“You saw him, didn’t you?” asked Olivia curiously.

Sophia’s eyes were wide as she scooped her cat up from the floor and waited for the answer.

“Of course. That’s what I meant to do, isn’t it?” said Sissy with a slightly superior sneer.

“And?” pressed Olivia.

“He might be blind,” said Sissy as her expression faded to one of unhappiness and anxiety that she could not conceal from her friends.

“Are they going to take him to St. Mungo’s?” asked Corinna.

Sissy looked at her sharply, knowing what she meant: was their professor going to be confined there? Would they take his wand? Was he now going to be a invalid?

“I don’t know,” she replied.

“Difficult to imagine him staying here if he can’t see. That’s an accident waiting to happen,” commented Olivia.

“Not that we wouldn’t be sorry to see him leave ...” said Sophia hastily, watching Sissy’s eyes flash at what she perceived as an insult against the professor.

“I would rather you didn’t say that,” Sissy told them, inclining her chin slightly. “I happen to think that he may recover, and if not, he still might be able to stay on.”

“Oh, Sissy, please don’t get your hopes up. You don’t understand how difficult it would be for him,” said Sophia.

“And you do?” asked Sissy in calm, cold tones.

“My Uncle Julius was blind, and he could only manage the simplest spells without having accidents,” Sophia answered.

Sissy had to concede that point. Sophia obviously knew more about such matters than she did.

“He could still teach though ...” she said, trying not to give up hope so easily.

“I don’t see how,” said Olivia, shaking her head.

“You’re all against him,” said Sissy almost incredulously, rising from her seat at the window and clenching her hands at her side.

“We aren’t against anyone, Sissy. We just ... have a different perspective,” said Sophia in a mollifying tone.

“You never liked him!” she accused all three of them.

“Do you know what kind of marks we received?” asked Corinna with a steady frown.

“Because you’re disasters in his subject!” she countered almost instantly.

“Well, I wonder why,” said Olivia. “Is because he chooses favorites? Is it because he teaches the class just to the top students, leaving the rest of us to muddle along on our own? Is it because he’s so cynical and critical ... and bitter that it’s painful to do anything in that class?” Olivia exploded, causing both cats in the room to run for the cover of Corinna’s bed at the sudden loud outburst.

Sissy drew herself up to her full height and said, “You’re just jealous. That’s what this is about.” Somehow she managed to keep her calm as she made the accusation. Her tone was icy and almost neutral.

Sophia moved to intervene, but Olivia was off again before she could even open her mouth.

“Jealous? When I have higher marks than you in Potions, Charms, and Herbology?” Olivia asked.

“I hardly think your Herbology marks are anything to boast about.”

“Better than yours!” seethed Olivia.

Sissy sneered and said, “But there’s always Transfigurations, isn’t there, Olivia? Hmm?”

That was a rather low blow as Olivia’s marks in Transfigurations were hardly what Sissy was getting it. That had been the subject that had caused her to venture from the Aerie and put all of them in harm’s way.

“I think that’s about enough,” said Sophia seriously. “I don’t want to hear another word unless it’s something nice.”

“Why don’t we change the subject?” questioned Corinna uneasily. “I mean, what do you suppose we’ll be doing for our detentions?” she asked.

“Funny, I was going to ask you the same thing,” said Sophia in a slightly strained, but conversational tone.

Sissy and Olivia merely continued to glower at each other in silence. Sophia imagined that it wouldn’t have been nearly so bad if they had not gone after each other’s marks. That always made an argument worse, more personal. And it was not as though they argued very much. Olivia usually reserved her temper for people outside their little group and for inanimate objects. And Sissy normally would never have drawn her further into the fight. Sissy was much more cool-headed than that.

“I bet he’ll have me tidying his classroom,” said Corinna, even though she rather doubted it. “Although, it’s not as much of a hazard as the Charm’s room,” she added, looking at Olivia.

She finally managed to take her eyes off Sissy as she answered, “Where is? I don’t fancy cleaning up that place. The dust is going to be intolerable.”

“Well, at least you won’t be scrubbing cauldrons!” said Sophia with a manufactured laugh.

“Neither will you. He reserves that for his worst students,” said Sissy with a slight smirk.

“Well, I should find out tomorrow,” said Sophia dubiously.

“So shall we all,” said Corinna with a yawn.

In Martin’s dormitory a rather different, but not entirely dissimilar scene was playing out between him and his five fellow first years, none of whom were ready to turn in for the night.

“I heard you were nearly bitten by the vampire,” said Middleton, who was somewhat stocky, but of rather average height, and even at the age of eleven gave the impression of superior strength.

The other boys were gathering around as Middleton subtly bullied Martin into a corner, crowding him until he had backed himself into it.

“Where did you hear that?” asked Martin evenly, trying not to feel intimidated, which was no mean feat.

“From my step-brother’s friend who knows Zabini,” he answered.

“Practically first hand then,” Martin commented.

“Is true?” asked Halliday from over Middleton’s shoulder.

Martin furrowed his brow, wondering what answer would make them leave him alone. He didn’t like how they were pressing in, crowding around him with eager, but not very friendly looks on their faces. He thought they had all reached an understanding, that they had realized that he just wanted to be left alone, that he didn’t want to answer any of their questions, not the ones about his father and certainly not about the vampire.

Middleton shoved his shoulder hard and asked, “Well, Dumbledore, is it?”

Obviously, the point had been missed somewhere along the way. He was more than a little surprised that they even knew to ask the question. Zabini didn’t seem the sort to talk. But then, rumors had an odd way of traveling through Hogwarts like wildfire.

“I suppose,” he admitted reluctantly before Middleton could shove him again. He eased his hand toward his pocket, intending to go for his wand if needs be.

“Not so fast,” said Middleton, grabbing his hand and twisting it a little. “Prentice, get his wand,” he ordered another one of the boys.

“But ...” objected a smaller, freckle-faced first year.

“Now, Prentice,” said Middleton with an impatient snarl.

“This really isn’t necessary,” said Dumbledore as the boy went through his pockets almost apologetically and removed his wand.

He gave it to Middleton who tossed it to Wainwright, who laughed and smirked as he examined it.

“What kind of core does it have?” he asked.

Dumbledore made no reply until Middleton made a threatening gesture with his fist. This was getting out of control rather quickly.

“Unicorn hair,” Martin answered. He watched as Wainwright tossed the wand onto his bed in order to concentrate on the proceedings, apparently satisfied that it was well out of the way. “Do you mind letting me go?” he asked.

“Who’s stopping you?” asked Middleton, moving backward a pace.

Martin felt a moment of relief as he stepped forward ... only to be shoved back against the wall again. The boys all laughed at him as he blinked hard. For a moment his ears were ringing.

“Not so fast ... You haven’t told us about the vampire yet,” he said.

“What do you want to know?” asked Martin. Surely if he told them what they wanted to know, they would leave him be and go back to their own business.

“What’d it look like?”

“I didn’t get a very good look at it ... just tall and thin with red eyes and pale skin,” said Martin, swallowing hard as he remembered its cold touch and rancid breath, which were things he was not ready to put into words, especially not with his house mates.

“Did you try and capture it?”

“Of course not,” said Martin with a frown.

“But you’re more than half Gryffindor.”

“So?” he asked, feeling very annoyed. His tone earned him another shove from Middleton.

“What were you doing out of the Aerie in the first place?” asked Halliday from behind the larger boy.

Martin blushed to his ears as he struggled to explain that.

“I was keeping look-out for the girls,” he stammered.

The boys all hooted at that, which only made him blush even harder. Middleton stopped laughing first and sneered.

“The girls?” he question in a whining, mocking voice. “You certainly spend enough time hanging on to them, don’t you? Why, you’re practically a girl yourself, Dumbledore.”

“Am not!” Martin shouted furiously.

The other first years practically roared with laughter, although Middleton only chortled and seemed pleased with himself.

What happened next could only be explained by the fact that Martin had inherited a healthy dose of his mother’s temperament, which was at times rather volatile. Wandless and outnumbered five to one, Martin hurled himself at Middleton, attempting to knock him down. At this point he felt as though he simply had nothing left to lose as they had already taken his wand and insulted dignity.

He caught Middleton off-guard as the bully had not expected Martin to fight back and certainly not so ferociously. Middleton hit the floor with a satisfying thud that seemed to echo through the dormitory. Martin then scrambled to his feet and darted toward his bed and his wand. Once he had it in hand, he planned to try some of the spells he had watched Sissy practice with cool finesse.

But he never quite made it that far as he was grabbed by Wainwright and Halliday long before he reached his bed.

“Let me go!” Martin protested as they restrained him.

“That was stupid, Dumbledore,” said Middleton, who was panting and looking more than a bit angry as he hauled himself up from the floor. “I was almost done with you,” he said.

Martin only glowered at him, not knowing what would happen next, but having the general idea that it would be neither pretty nor pleasant.

“If you aren’t careful, you’re going to alert the prefects. That prat Ambrose lives practically on top of us,” remarked Woodward, who had stayed out of it for the most part. He wasn’t as imposing as Middleton, but he was the next largest boy in their year in terms of both weight and height.

“Go back to your muggle books,” Middleton snapped at Woodward as he grabbed Martin by the front of the robes. Halliday and Wainwright let go of him and stepped away.

“It’s Shakespeare,” muttered Woodward as he tucked a worn book into his robes. He had obviously been reading before the interrogation began.

Martin stared wide-eyed at Middleton as he drew back his fist. The blow seemed to come at him in slow motion, and he closed his eyes an instant before it landed, bloodying his nose. Middleton released him, and he fell to floor in a heap.

“Stuck-up little toad,” muttered Middleton before walking away.

“Am not,” Martin whispered, holding his smarting nose and trying not to let the tears leave his eyes as he remained on the floor.

The sound of the other boys’ retreating footsteps was one for which he was grateful as he pinched his bleeding nose and climbed shakily to his feet. Prentice and Woodward, whose beds were nearest to the door, gave him sympathetic looks.

“The bleeding should stop on its own in fifteen minutes or so,” said Prentice in a knowing and helpful tone.

Martin considered just for a moment going to the prefects or something, but he knew that would make him nothing more than a tale-bearer. He had no choice, but to handle things as best he could on his own.

“Thanks,” said Martin dryly as he climbed into bed and drew the curtains. He examined his wand, making certain that it had not been damaged, and then reached for some parchment and a quill. He looked through a gap in the curtains at the other boys and pinched his nose again before deciding to pen a letter to his mother.

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