A Little Knowledge

Madam Pomfrey gave Sissy a potion, some nasty olive green mixture with bits of black stuff floating in it, and sent her on her way sometime later. She began to feel better by the time she reached the Great Hall. It was nearly time for lunch, and Sissy imagined that her friends would be expecting her and probably very worried. She was right on both counts.

She was already seated, resting quietly as students poured noisily into the hall, when she spotted Sophia, Olivia, Corinna, and Martin. They were all wearing identical expressions of concern and anxiety. Sissy imagined that they had filled Martin on the details. She smiled tiredly as they rushed toward her.

“Are you going to be tossed out?” Martin blurted out with a terrified expression on his face.

“No,” said Sissy, just managing to chuckle softly at his bluntness.

“That’s a relief,” said Sophia.

Sissy realized that the past hour had been almost as agonizing for them as for her. They genuinely thought that she might be expelled from Hogwarts. She was touched by their concern and therefore was not sure how to explain that she was spending eight consecutive evenings with Mister Pringle.

“I lost fifty house points,” she informed them solemnly.

“No,” moaned Olivia, holding her head in her hands.

“That ... that isn’t so bad,” said Corinna, trying not to sound as disheartened as Olivia.

“I’ll never be able to earn them back ...” said Sissy.

“There’s five of us. Only ten points each, and we have months,” said Martin rationally. “We’ll just have to try really hard,” he added.

“But that isn’t so bad,” said Sophia, “unless there’s more?”

Sissy took a deep breath and said, “Detention for eight days. Don’t worry about it.”

“With Pringle?” asked Corinna with some certainty.

“Yeah ...” Sissy admitted grudgingly.

Martin furrowed his brow as he watched the girls suddenly seem much more displeased and miserable, except for Sissy who had come to terms with the situation already. He knew almost nothing about the school caretaker, only that his name seemed to fill the girls, and everyone else, with dread.

“What do you suppose he’ll have you do?” asked Martin mostly to fill the sudden silence.

“Don’t think about it!” Sophia urged, reaching across the table to squeeze Sissy’s hand.

Martin swallowed hard.

“Best not to think about it.” added Corinna, putting an arm around her friend.

The caretaker’s office was on the ground floor about halfway between the Entrance Hall and the passage that led to the Hufflepuff common room. Sissy had passed by it numerous times, but had never given it much thought. The dark wood of the recessed door made it seem forbidding in the late afternoon light. As her stomach tightened, she was grateful that her detention was before supper, just in case she couldn’t keep anything down during whatever was to come.

“Just stories, just stories ...” she repeated to herself as she raised her hand and knocked.

The door opened like a cork from a bottle, nearly hitting her as she scuttled out of the way. Standing in the door way was Apollyon Pringle. He wasn’t a tall man, but he was imposing in his own way. His dark, glaring eyes could stare a seventh year of any house into submission. Pringle’s face always seemed to be set in a frown, but as he looked at nervous Sissy, a wicked and terrible smile spread slowly across his face.

“You’re the first one they’ve sent to me this year,” he stated, grasping her arm like a snake striking at its prey. She startled. He twisted her arm a little as he pulled her into his dimly lit office. “Practicing curses on other students. We’ll learn you,” he said confidently.

“You want the manacles, sir?” asked his slouching apprentice with a ghastly sort of smile of his own.

Sissy knew that sort of look. He was glad that a student had been sent for detention. But then, they both seemed to be, and yet Filch, if she remembered his name properly, seemed almost anxious, eager to please Pringle. She imagined that the caretaker took out a lot of his temper on the younger man, who was supposedly a squib, when there weren’t students to punish. With her there, Pringle had someone else to torment in his stead.

“Aye, good idea, Filch. Fetch ‘em,” Pringle instructed.

Sissy swallowed hard as she watched Filch rummage around in the back of the office before producing two well-polished metallic cuffs with a length of chain between them.

“Your wand,” said Pringle, wrenching her arm again.

Sissy reluctantly took it from her pocket with her free hand and gave it to him. He tucked it away with a snort before taking the manacles from Filch and clamping them brutally onto her wrists. The shackles didn’t especially hurt, but they were very heavy and tighter than necessary.

“You like Dark Magic?” Pringle asked her with an almost gleeful look. She didn’t know how to reply to that, but there was no need. He continued. “Well, these beauties are a fine example. Wonderful craftsmanship,” he said, grabbing the chain and snatching them up so that she would look at them. They didn’t seem especially interesting.

“I wouldn’t know,” she said.

“Let me demonstrate,” he said. “I want you to think about how worthless and stupid you are for the next ... two minutes, starting now,” he said, releasing the chain.

Sissy frowned at him as though he had lost his mind.

Then she felt it. A burning sensation that emanated from the manacles around her wrists starting there and shooting up her arms. Sissy had never been exposed to muggle electrical current, but had she known, the sensations were similar. She bit back a surprised shriek of pain. The burning would not stop.

“Worthless and stupid, worthless and stupid,” she began repeating to herself mentally, hoping that would be the key to stopping the pain.

The uncomfortable sensation lessened, but did not wholly disappear as she tried to keep her thoughts under strict control. It was more difficult than she would ever have imagined. Thoughts of escape and anger had to be fought off. Stray pejoratives directed at maniacally smiling Pringle had to be quashed.

“Useful toy, isn’t it, Howard?” asked Mister Pringle after the allotted time had passed.

Her wrists and arms continued to ache even after the manacles seemed to return to their dormant state. Sissy squared her jaw and said nothing. She could not trust herself to speak.

“I’ll say it’s useful then,” said Pringle. “Let’s try for five minutes then. Stupid and worthless, just as before,” he instructed, giving another sharp tug at the chain between the manacles.

Somewhat more than an hour later Sissy left the office. The repetition of thoughts were still pounding behind her temples. It required all of her meager energy to ignore them. She could hear the buzz of conversation and the soft clatter of utensils as she approached the open doors to the Great Hall. She closed her eyes for a moment and rubbed her wrists. The burning lingered. The memory of pain stayed with her. When she had opened her eyes again, she knew that she wanted to be alone, that she could not face her friends with her mind still barking the just-learned litany of worthlessness and stupidity at her. Instead of entering the hall, she turned and started toward the Aerie to find some peace and quiet.

Olivia was the first to begin to worry when Sissy didn’t show up for supper, but she wasn’t the only one as minutes began to tick by and their friend did not appear. She imagined that Pringle was keeping her late, which was not far from the truth. That thought unnerved her. It unnerved everyone as they knew the sorts of things that he was rumored to be capable of. Olivia could hardly understand why Headmaster Dipper allowed it or even kept such a man on his staff.

“What are we going to do?” she asked as they all glanced toward the hall entrance, hoping to see their friend striding in with a smirk, none the worse for wear.

“What can we do?” asked Sophia, rolling a few peas around on her plate.

“She’ll be along in a few minutes,” said Martin, who, though quite hungry, was eating without much enthusiasm.

“I’m going to the Aerie and see if maybe she went there after her detention,” said Corinna, standing and leaving the table.

“Why would she do that?” asked Martin, beating the girls to the question.

“It’s just a feeling I have,” said Corinna solemnly. The day-dreaming look in her eyes was replaced by a very serious expression.

“All right, but if she’s there, bring her back straight away,” said Olivia.

Corinna looked at her for a moment and shrugged before walking out of the hall.

“You don’t suppose ...” Martin began to say.

“Stop it!” said Sophia suddenly, startling him. “I don’t want to suppose anything.”

The common room was empty as most students were still having their supper, but Corinna hardly expected to find Sissy there. She went immediately to the dormitory that they shared instead.

“Sissy?” she called as she opened the door.

“In here,” Sissy yelled in return from the bath. Tiredness seemed to coat her voice, dulling its normally sharp tones. The effect was not a pleasant one.

Corinna walked to the open door to find Sissy soaking her hands in a basin of lukewarm water.

“What happened?” she asked.

Sissy considered her answer for a moment too long and said, “My hands are grimy from detention. I wanted to wash them.”

“Your wrists look raw,” Corinna observed, stepping closer.

“Ah, perhaps a bit,” said Sissy, plunging her hands out of plain view.

“A Cooling Charm might ...”

“Too sore to hold a wand,” Sissy admitted, “but I’m sure they’ll be fine later.”

“Maybe Madam Pomfrey could ...” Corinna started to suggest.

“Don’t worry. My hands will be fine,” Sissy told her firmly.

Corinna nodded that she understood and continued watching Sissy soaking her obviously much abused hands and wrists.

“What did Pringle have you do?”

“Nothing much really. I just had to think,” said Sissy, closing her eyes for a brief instant as the droning thoughts began once again. She had nearly got rid of them. “Can we not discuss it at present, Corinna? I am very tired and thinking about it only makes it worse,” she explained in a strained voice.

“Thinking about thinking?”

“Exactly,” Sissy nodded.

“Do you want me to leave then?” asked Corinna, taking a backward step.

Sissy looked up and shrugged her blond hair out of her face and said, “No, you can stay if you want. You can ... tell me what I missed in History of Magic this morning.”

“Professor Binns droned on about Goblin revolts and such for the entire hour. I’ve got notes that you can copy.”

Sissy would always count the next four days as among the worst of her life. Perhaps not always the absolute worst, but certainly in the top ten segments of misery she ever experienced, and those sentiments would not dull with time. She was tired and sore most of the time, but that wasn’t the worst of it. She had been both of those things before, most notably when she had taken dance lessons at her preparatory school in France, but that had been a rewarding experience that she would gladly have repeated at any time. Detentions with Pringle and, more often than not, Filch as well, were neither enjoyable nor an experience she ever wanted to repeat. She simply tried to hold on to the thought that she only had to complete eight days. The worst part of the situation was the fact that when detention ended, she could not let go of the thoughts that she was required to think in order to escape the pain. Those thoughts remained with her where ever she went.

When she returned to the dormitory in the evening, the girls would always be waiting for her. Olivia would cast Cooling Charms on her wrists, which eased the pain considerably. She had offered to cast a Cheering Charm for her, but Sissy always refused. She imagined that it would require a very powerful one to make her feel any better at all. After that they would all walk her down to the Great Hall and make sure that she had something to eat. Then Sissy would return to the Aerie, study for a while in silence, and then go straight to bed. Her dreams were troubled ones.

Her friends noticed the change in her from the very beginning. The spark of cool, clear intellect in Sissy’s eyes had diminished, replaced with a look that was becoming dull and tired. They hated it, but felt powerless to do anything to help her. Who could they tell or what could they do? The answers always came to nothing.

“She’ll be all right in a few days,” said Sophia as they watched her climb the stairs to the dormitory Wednesday night with shambling steps. Her statement was more like a question.

“And if not?” asked Martin.

“Sissy is stronger than any of us. She will be fine,” said Olivia a bit too forcefully. She was rethinking the birthday present she had chosen for Sissy. It seemed ill-suited after all of this.

But they weren’t the only people who noticed the change. In class Sissy had stopped answering questions voluntarily, even in Defense Against the Dark Arts. And Professor Knowles certainly noticed that. He could also hear the painful listlessness in her voice, the tiredness and the lack of energy, when he managed to get her to speak at all. It was obvious to him that he was losing one of his best students.

He was very much torn between two sentiments: one of justice and one of compassion. Since the war he had always put far greater emphasis on the former over the latter. But he could tell that the punishment for her misdeed, whatever that punishment was, had become more than Miss Howard could bear. It no longer seemed to fit her crime, though that was hardly his determination to make.

It was that final sentiment, not so different than those of Sissy’s friends, that caused Professor Knowles to wait until Thursday following his second year class to speak with her.

During class he had asked for someone to demonstrate a simple defensive spell and had chosen Sissy because he knew that the young wizards in the class would not be mature enough to attempt this without causing havoc. He had seen it time and again in earlier years. Sissy had very respectfully declined.

Her reason?

“I’m afraid I might muck it up, sir.”

Knowles had been very surprised, but had accepted her refusal without further comment, opting to have Chang demonstrate the spell. Thankfully, it went off without a hitch.

After class he asked her to remain behind as it was the lunch hour and he would not be keeping her from class.

“Miss Howard?” he questioned once the other students had gone. It was so quiet that for a moment that he was afraid that she had simply slipped out with the rest of her classmates.

“Yes, professor?” she said.

“Come here,” he instructed, leaning against his desk and putting his cane aside.

Her footsteps were slow as she approached. Even they had a different quality to them than they had the week before. The sound was heavier, less energetic and less graceful. He would hardly have known it was Miss Howard without the sound of her voice to accompany those steps.

“How are you finding your detentions with Mister Pringle?” he asked her in a conversational tone.

“I enjoyed the ones with you more,” she answered, trying to put some of her old nonchalance in the reply. It only made her sound shrill and unhappy.

“I’m flattered,” he said, recognizing the evasive answer for what it was. “What sort of things are you doing? Scrubbing floors? Cleaning?” he asked. Knowles knew perfectly well that neither chore would break Sissy, at least not in a scant three days.

“No, sir,” she replied.

“What then?” he questioned, beginning to lose his patience.

“Professor, with all due respect ...” she began tiredly.

“I would like to help you, Miss Howard, if you are being treated unfairly, but I can hardly ascertain whether you are or not on my own,” he explained..

“It’s hardly worth the trouble, sir,” she said with what sounded like a slight sniffle.

Knowles frowned and reached toward her. She permitted him to grasp her by the shoulder.

“That is my decision to make, Miss Howard,” he said crisply, “and as you are one of my better students, I happen to think it is quite worth it.”

Her shoulder trembled under his hand, and Knowles realized that she was indeed crying. He grimaced and drew her closer.

“There, there, Miss Howard, it can’t be as bad as all that, can it?” he asked, pulling her into a hug and grimacing as she began to cry on his mismatched robes.

“I’m sorry, professor,” she said in a muffled voice. “I know how you hate emotionalism.”

“Never mind that now;” he said to the sobbing twelve-year-old, “I imagine that you can’t help it.” He tried not to look disgusted as she sniffed and hiccuped.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said. But he was thinking at the same time, “Because I could certainly lose my job if someone took this the wrong way.”

Her tears gradually subsided, and he allowed her to pull away when she was ready. He fished an old hankie out of his pocket and gave it to her. She murmured her thanks and dried her eyes before returning the article to him. He took it back with a look of distaste and tucked it away again.

“I am afraid that I won’t be able to see the headmaster until after dinner tonight. He is a very busy man. But I promise you that I will do something about your detentions if it is at all within my power,” he assured her.

“Really?” she asked with a hopeful note in her voice.

“Yes, really,” he said with a slight curl of his lip. “Now, you should get a hold of yourself and run along, Miss Howard, before your friends begin to worry.”

Professor Knowles decided to skip his mid-day meal that day in order to pay a visit to Mister Pringle, who almost always took his meals in his office with his apprentice instead of with the rest of the staff. Knowles was curious to know what sort of measures the caretaker had employed to turn his otherwise level-headed and unemotional student into a sobbing mess. And he needed specific charges to take to Armando Dippet if he was ever to convince the headmaster to turn Miss Howard’s remaining detentions over to him.

Pringle sounded very surprised to see him when he opened his office door. Knowles could have easily imagined the look on the old wizard’s face. Not pleasant at all.

The professor was about to practice a deception, one which would require some guile and as much nerve as he had.

“I’d like a word with you, Mister Pringle,” he said with a disarming smile.

“A word?”

“I’ve noticed a change in Miss Howard that is ... most agreeable. I want to know how you’ve managed it,” he said. “Might I come inside and discuss it?” he asked in an affable and conversational tone

“Of course, professor, of course,” said Pringle, taking him by the elbow and guiding him into the office.

Knowles found this a bit offensive and presumptuous, but he had other matters to attend to and could hardly belabor the irksome old man with his cane.

“Thank you very much,” he said, struggling to keep his tone friendly. “Now, why don’t you show me what methods you’ve used.”

“Filch! Get the manacles out!” Pringle ordered his apprentice, who had been eating his dinner at a table in the corner. He dropped his fork with a soft clatter and scampered to do his boss’s bidding.

“Manacles?” questioned Knowles, not too terribly surprised. The barbarity of the notion was already unpalatable.

“Oh, yes, special ones,” said Pringle. “I bought them off a man in Hogsmeade during the war,” he added in a softer tone.

“Dark Magic?” asked Knowles with interest. It was mostly feigned as he knew the sort of thing that Pringle was talking about.

“Perhaps a bit,” said Pringle, but with that admission his tone grew uneasy.

“No matter,” said Knowles with forced laugh as he heard Filch approaching.

“They are an interesting bit of work. I’ve no idea what they were originally used for exactly,” said Pringle more conversationally, “but they can work wonders.”

Knowles heard the manacles clink together and asked, “Might I examine them? Professional curiosity, you know.”

“Certainly,” said Pringle, pressing them into his empty hand.

Knowles rested his cane in the crook of his elbow and ran his hands over the smooth, cold mental of the manacles. He couldn’t discern very much about them. They were heavy but otherwise unremarkable.

“I’d like to try them, if I may,” he said with a smile. “Please put them on,” he instructed, holding out his wrists.

He could have done this himself, but he wanted to know Pringle’s reaction to the suggestion ... among other things.

“Are you sure, professor?” asked Pringle nervously.

“Of course,” said Knowles.

Pringle complied and fastened the manacles around his wrists.

“Now show me what they can do,” instructed Knowles.

“It’s not a pleasant thing ...” Pringle began awkwardly.

“Oh, if Miss Howard can take it, then so can I. You need not be concerned,” said Knowles. His tone remained light, but had he realized it, he would have known that the expression on his face was a very dangerous one.

“If you insist, professor,” said Pringle, gripping the chain that link Knowles’ two hands together. “I won’t make it as hard for you. Think about ...”

“No, please, I want the same treatment,” interrupted Knowles, raising his eyebrows.

“Think about ... being stupid and worthless for the next minute,” instructed Pringle very grudgingly.

The surprise he felt at those instructions was eclipsed an instant later by a burning sensation that made him grit his teeth hard. He had expected the shackles to hurt somehow, but he was surprised by the sheer magnitude of the pain. He immediately thought about what Pringle had said, forcing the pain away with his submission.

“I’m sorry, professor, but you wanted to know,” said Pringle a minute later as he removed the manacles.

“That explains a lot,” said Knowles, rubbing his tender wrists and feeling a bit shaken.

He had found the answers that he was seeking, but he didn’t like them, not at all. Miss Howard had been as good as tortured, not to mention countless other students who had been so brutally schooled into submission over the years. But he had one more question that needed an answer: why? Why had Armando Dippet let this go on for so long?

Professor Knowles had a bit of trouble finding the headmaster’s office, which was not surprising given that he had only visited it once since losing his sight. He had sent a message saying that he had an urgent matter to discuss and Armando had invited Knowles to join him in his office before dinner, although regrettably after Miss Howard’s next detention had already begun. Knowles had been tempted to find her and tell her not to go, but he resisted that urge because of the trouble it could have potentially caused.

“Would you care for a drink, Cyrus?” asked Dippet as the defense professor entered the office.

“No, but thank you,” he said, seating himself in a chair in front of the headmaster’s desk. “This should only take a few moments,” he added.

“Please, you know I always have time for my professors,” said Professor Dippet. Knowles could almost hear his genial, patient smile.

It was difficult to admit, but Knowles had admired Dippet since his own days as a student, which were just a few years after Armando had given up the Defense Against the Dark Arts position to become headmaster. Knowles had all but followed in his footsteps, the war against Grindelwald aside. But at this moment, Knowles felt a strange sort of disappointment in the former professor, his colleague.

“It is about Miss Howard,” said Knowles, “and how Apollyon Pringle is choosing to discipline her. I find it to be barbaric and distasteful and wish to assume responsibility for the remainder of her detentions.”

“Her infraction was a serious one. I think she needs to learn an equally serious lesson,” countered Dippet.

“I am well aware of that, Armando, but his methods are too extreme,” he said, leaning forward in his chair. “I do not wish to lose a very good student, and I can already detect signs of damage ...”

“Are you suggesting that Apollyon is brutalizing the girl?”

“I am suggesting that she is being harmed emotionally,” said Knowles in a very firm voice. “She has become noticeably more withdrawn and less confident in just the past few days ...”

“Which should lead to better behavior in the long run,” replied Dippet calmly.

“Another half week of this and I won’t have a Ravenclaw with top marks in defense anymore. I’ll just have another student who stares down at her desk all the time,” said Knowles, who knew by the sound of her voice that Sissy barely raised her head anymore when she spoke. “I’m not asking you to let her off, Armando. I can and will see to her punishment.”

“You are serious about this then?”

“Very much so.”

“All right, but these detentions are not to be used for extra lessons,” Armando warned.

For a moment Knowles thought that Dippet was merely taking pity on him. Then he realized that he didn’t care about that, not one whit.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Is there anything else, Cyrus?”

Knowles winced as he asked, “Why do you keep Pringle on? Surely you can’t approve of all his methods.”

“I’m not a tender-hearted man,” began Dippet, “but, truthfully, I hired him because he was my late wife’s youngest brother. He had no where to go and precious few skills. I was able to give him a job.”

“I see ...”

“I imagine the next headmaster, being of the same mind as you, will have him out the first chance he gets.”

It wasn’t until much later that Knowles realized the full meaning of those words.

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