A Little Knowledge

For most of the girls, and Martin, the remaining detentions seemed to speed by relatively painlessly. Sophia spent hers in somber silence, preparing ingredient for Professor Krohn, who seldom spoke more than five words during their time together. Corinna studied and discussed prophesies both modern and ancient with Professor Mallaghan, who always seemed rather pleased just to have the company. Martin began to excel at his extra Transfigurations lessons, which were increasingly helpful to him as he started more difficult exercises in class. Olivia had finished tidying the Charms’ classroom and moved onto Flitwick’s offices where he regaled her with tales from the end of previous century during which he had been a dueling champion, although he told her very little about his own dueling experiences. Only Sissy seemed somewhat unhappy with her detentions.

Knowles remained recalcitrant and almost unwilling to leave the hospital wing. Sissy had walked with him from the wing to the Entrance Hall, but once he heard the sound of other students, he turned and immediately fled back to the hospital wing with Sissy at his heels.

“I don’t feel well,” he complained, as though he had to justify himself to her. “Maybe tomorrow,” said Knowles.

But he was getting better. Madam Pomfrey had commented that he could already dress and feed himself, which given the fact that he had been injured not even a week before was quite an accomplishment. He simply lacked confidence, or rather, that was what Sissy believed.

That Friday as she walked into the hospital wing, he seemed to be waiting for her, leaning slightly on his cane and looking morose.

“Miss Howard, you are to accompany me to my office,” Knowles instructed.

“Of course, sir,” she replied coolly, privately marveling that he had known the sound of her footsteps as she approached.

“I need to pack up all my things as I will be leaving on Sunday. I trust you will be able to assist me,” he said, starting toward the doors of the hospital wing.

Sissy froze for a moment unable to believe what she had just heard. Was he going to give up without even a fight?

“Yes, sir,” said Sissy as she followed him.

For the first time in days, she had to school her voice into the semblance of nonchalance. It would not come naturally to her that afternoon.

“Do you want to leave?” she asked the professor as they made their way to the stairs, which he proceeded down very carefully and very slowly.

“I have little choice,” he snapped.

“They’re making you leave then?”

“I cannot fulfill my obligations like this,” he answered, feeling along the wall with one hand and holding his cane in the other.

“Which obligations?” she questioned as they walked across the Entrance Hall. To the best of her knowledge this was as far from the hospital wing as he had been since the previous Friday night.

Knowles was silent, perhaps pretending he had not heard the question. Sissy knew that pursing the matter not a good idea at the moment as they were entering the more crowded halls of the school and she had to keep an eye on him.

His office was two floors above them, which meant passing through a crowded hallway and up two flights of stairs before winding their way through the corridors of the second floor. Sissy noticed students pointing as they walked, and why not? Knowles couldn’t see them, after all, but by the sour look on his face, she knew that he could hear them as they whispered behind their hands. She wanted to tell the gaggle of Slytherin first years following them to leave off, but she couldn’t do so without attracting even more attention to the problem, and to Professor Knowles, who was struggling to keep his head held high.

They made it to the last flight of stairs without incident, but that was as far as they made it. The stairs, once they were in the middle of them, suddenly changed, sending Knowles to his knees as he wasn’t expecting it. Sissy grabbed his arm to keep him from pitching over the side as the staircase whisked through the air before connecting with another corridor on the same level. She could hear the Slytherins on the landing below them laughing uproariously.

“Get me out of here!” hissed Knowles, turning crimson with rage and embarrassment. “My office, the hospital wing, anywhere. I don’t care, but away from here!” he said as he fumbled for his cane.

Sissy pressed it back into his hand and hauled him to his feet with some exertion. She looked up the stairs to see that they were only yards from his office door. Had the stairs known and tried to help them? She could not be certain.

“We’re almost there,” she said, placing his free hand on the railing. “Just up these last few steps,” she urged.

He nodded mutely and clambered up the stairs to the corridor where his office was located. The stairs immediately switched back to their former position.

“How many of them were there?” he asked as he unlocked the door. Sissy was amazed at the ease with which he accomplished this. His hands remembered the key and the lock even if his eyes could not see them.

“Sir?”

“Students, laughing at me,” he snapped, stumbling into the musty office.

“I didn’t count. Perhaps five,” she lied. There had been six first years, two second years, and one of the rather irksome third years who had tried to torment Martin. All of them had been Slytherins.

“Well, two more days ... and I’ll be gone. They can find someone else to laugh at,” he muttered, trying to feel his way around the room and banging into things in the process.

This was the first opportunity that Sissy had to see Knowles’ office. It was rather cluttered. There were piles of books stacked all around the room. She glanced at the titles and was surprised to find that they were on a wide variety of topics, not only subjects related to Defense Against the Dark Arts. There were books on gardening, how to play the lute, mathematics, genealogy, sword fighting and fencing, and even what appeared to be a few tattered muggle novels. Knowles was obviously a man of many interests and passions. She noted the latter when she saw a finely polished fencing saber hanging on the wall behind his desk.

And his desk was the only part of the room that wasn’t covered with books or stacks of parchments. It was rather neatly maintained, a patch of order amid chaos.

Knowles made his way to his desk, ran his hands over the smooth surface, and sat down in his chair.

“There should be a pair of traveling trunks,” he told Sissy in a tired voice.

Sissy looked around for a moment before noticing them behind a knee high wall of books, almost as though they were trying to hide there.

“I see them,” she acknowledged before walking over to the trunks. The keys were already in the locks.

“Please open them and begin placing my books inside. Don’t worry about being neat. The trunks will take care of themselves,” he said with a sigh, turning toward the window almost as though he could feel the warmth of the late afternoon sun on his face.

“With all due respect, sir,” Sissy began, “I don’t think you should go. I think you can still be a great Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

“Miss Howard, how old are you?” he asked without bothering to turn.

“I’ll be thirteen on the day before Halloween,” she replied.

“You are not old enough to understand ...”

“Then make me understand, professor!” she said hotly as the emotions she felt, disappointment and confusion, bubbled forth from the depths of her heart. “Make me understand why my best teacher is leaving!” Sissy demanded.

“Emotionalism is unbecoming, Miss Howard,” he warned her half-heartedly, rubbing his forehead. “Please begin packing before I’m forced to summon a house elf to do it.”

“Some Gryffindor you are,” she muttered, gathering an armload of books and stuffing them into the first trunk.

“What did you say?” he asked sharply, turning in the direction of her voice.

Sissy swallowed as she realized she had perhaps gone too far. She didn’t have a temper to speak of. That was Olivia’s department, but from time to time ... she said things that might have been better left unsaid.

When she did not reply, Knowles asked, “How did you know?”

After all, he treated his house affiliation like a closely guarded secret, and none of his students had been able to guess with such certainty before.

“You can tell a leopard by its spots. Or in this case a lion by his foolhardiness and bravery,” Sissy told him. She did not add that Dumbledore’s behavior toward him had cinched it.

Knowles rubbed his forehead tiredly and said, “Pomfrey thinks I could make it too. That I could still teach and function here. And Professor Krohn as well. Professor Dippet would even give me the chance. I’m ... unconvinced. I think a blind defense teacher is a disaster in the making. I can name a thousand contingencies that would make it so. And yet ...”

“There are people who believe in you, professor,” she said.

“Merlin knows why,” he sighed loudly, “or what I have ever done to deserve it. Very well, remove those books from my trunk. I suppose I will be staying on ... temporarily ... until I’m certain about whether or not I can do my job. I can always give my notice at a later date,” Knowles decided with a sour and slightly worried expression.

“I’m glad, sir,” she said, grinning, though he could not see it.

“Ugh! Sentimentality,” he said, but a slight, albeit anxious, smile was tugging at his lips.

Meanwhile, Sophia, Olivia, and Martin were sitting in the common room poring over their Transfigurations’ texts. The two witches were glad to see that Martin seemed to be getting the hang of it. He had improved immensely over the course of the week in both theory and practical application. They were both rather impressed, as were Sissy and Corinna, who was at Quidditch practice.

“What are we going to do for her birthday?” asked Olivia, closing her book with a snap and stretching. She figured that they had earned a break.

“Whose?” asked Martin.

“Sissy’s, of course,” answered Olivia, rolling her eyes. “It’s the thirtieth of October,” she added.

“We missed it last year because we weren’t good friends yet, so we all covertly decided to make it up to her this year,” Sophia explained.

“I’ve already got her present,” admitted Olivia a bit sheepishly. “But I thought we could sneak some food up from the kitchens that day. Well before dark, I mean, and have a bit of a party or something.”

“We could have it in the dormitory, but I don’t fancy trying to get Martin up the stairs,” said Sophia with a wry look.

“Think of the scandal!” said Olivia in a mocking voice.

Sophia just pursed her lips in silence and tried not to look too annoyed. They had already explained to Martin about the stairs to the girls’ dormitory. He had been positively fascinated, though he couldn’t understand the necessity for such a thing.

“She’s going to be twelve then?” asked Martin before it could go any further.

“Thirteen,” said Sophia. “She is the oldest one of us.”

“Acts like it too,” said Olivia.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” said Sophia with suppressed laughter in her dark eyes.

“Shouldn’t she be a third year then?” asked Martin curiously.

“She went to a special school for girls in France before coming here. Sissy’s mum wanted her to finish up there more than anything, so her parents made a special arrangement with the headmaster. I don’t know how, but Sissy started a year late,” explained Sophia, who knew about these things because her mother taught at a similar, but less prestigious school. “Now, what did you get her?” she asked Olivia.

“No telling, all right?” she asked them.

“Of course not!”

“It’s a book ...” said Olivia, lowering her voice, “on advanced hexes and minor curses.”

“Olivia!” Sophia hissed.

“She loves that sort of thing. I don’t see the harm,” protested Olivia, who had expected this sort of reaction from her best friend.

Martin simply looked uncomfortable and kept his mouth closed. There was no need to get involved in the fight.

“You don’t see the harm? What about her reputation? Do you want people to think she’s training to be a Dark Witch or something?” asked Sophia, managing to keep her voice low.

“No one’s going to think that! Look at her family: good witches and wizards one and all. And she needs outstanding marks in defense if she’s going to follow her father into the Department of Mysteries,” argued Olivia stubbornly.

“I’ve never heard Sissy say that she wants to do that,” said Sophia coolly.

Olivia rolled her eyes and said, “But isn’t it obvious?”

“Reconsider the book, Olivia,” said Sophia, shaking her head.

“No, she’ll really like it!” she replied.

“I just hope it isn’t too dangerous or illegal then.”

“Er, what are you going to get her, Sophia?” asked Martin before they could go another round.

“She mentioned wanting another pair of gloves last winter,” shrugged Sophia. “I can order a pair from London by owl.”

“She probably already has another pair,” Olivia pointed out.

Martin didn’t know what he was going to do for Sissy’s birthday. He had a small allowance from his mother, but he had never bought a present for a girl before. He thought about getting her a book, but not something as controversial as Olivia’s choice, but he didn’t know what else she might like. He was trying to decide whether to ask Sophia or Olivia or wait and ask Corinna, when Sophia looked over his shoulder and frowned.

“Martin, do you know of a reason why those boys keep looking at you and then whispering among themselves?” she inquired. “Don’t turn,” she warned him.

“Are they in my year?” he asked as his stomach dropped several inches.

“Yes,” she replied.

Sophia glanced furtively at the four boys, who were sitting across the common room. They didn’t appear to be doing anything. They were studying or playing Gobstones. One of them would simply glance over from time to time before leaning toward his friends and talking in a very low voice. It was the stocky boy from the Sorting ceremony. Middleton? She didn’t have a lot to do with the first years, other than Martin, of course, but at that moment he looked like trouble, and so did his friends. They all appeared to be plotting something.

“It’s probably nothing,” Martin told her, but Sophia noticed that his slightly ruddy complexion had turned at least three shades paler.

“They bother you, don’t they?” she asked.

“Not really,” he said, trying not to wince as he spoke.

“Well, I think we should go to dinner before they put whatever they’re planning into action,” said Olivia, noticing the time. “We wouldn’t want to keep Sissy and Corinna waiting.”

A lingering feeling of impending doom stayed with Martin all that evening, not leaving him for even a moment. He remained the common room long after the girls had gone to bed, although Corinna had turned in quite early because of practice the next day. It was the team’s last weekend of training before their first Quidditch game against Slytherin. Martin took a deep breath as he climbed the stairs to the dormitory, hoping that he would still be around to see it.

Middleton, Halliday, and Wainwright seemed to be waiting expectantly for him. Dumbledore clutched his wand in his pocket as he froze and waited for them to make a move.

“I swear, if you interrupt my reading, I’ll hex you,” said Woodward from his bed, not bothering to look up from his book. His wand was lying next to him. He seemed to be quite serious.

Wainwright and Halliday exchanged uncomfortable looks. Prentice had already ducked behind his bed.

“We just wanted to have a conversation,” said Middleton.

“And purple spots on your arse, I presume,” said Woodward evenly. He had yet to look up, but his free hand had moved closer to his wand.

Middleton shifted uneasily, but the threat was enough for the other two, both of whom slouched toward their beds very quietly. They had better things to do than cross wands with Julian Woodward. Middleton still seemed to be debating, weighing the rewards and consequences in his mind.

Martin couldn’t understand why Woodward was helping him, but he was glad that the other boy’s threats carried so much weight. Maybe all of his roommates didn’t hate him after all.

“Fine,” muttered Middleton, choosing to go to bed and read some of his Charms’ book instead of harassing Martin, who was still wondering what they had had in store for him.

Martin thought he caught a slight smirk on Woodward’s face as his hand withdrew from his wand.

“Thanks,” said Martin quietly before going to bed.

Woodward didn’t bother acknowledging him.

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