A Little Knowledge

Not even Sophia was looking forward to Potions when they walked into the dungeon classroom that afternoon. Although it might have been her imagination, Sophia rather fancied that Professor Krohn was still glowering from the incident that morning. Or maybe he had just begun glowering again upon their arrival, which made more sense to her once she considered it. Nevertheless, the potions’ master seemed very displeased and that invariably spelled trouble for his students.

The Ravenclaws, not to mention their Hufflepuff year mates, were very glad that it wasn’t their day for double Potions. One hour was abysmal; two hours would be entirely unbearable given Krohn’s current disposition.

“Today ... we will be preparing relatively simple Curative Potions,” he said very slowly. “For the most part, they have a tendency not to explode, but all of you should exercise extreme caution with the small amount of powdered dragon’s claw as it can do nasty things in larger quantities,” he warned them as he turned and began scribbling instructions on the board in his wide hand. “Can anyone tell me another ingredient of this potion?” he questioned as he wrote.

Sophia put her hand up immediately as did her house mate Li Chang, who appeared to be a bit bored.

“Chang,” said Krohn without turning.

“Daisy roots,” he answered.

“Prepared in what manner?”

Sophia watched as Chang furrowed his brow in a flustered fashion. She knew the answer, but did he?

“Chopped ...” said Chang uncertainly.

“As I said, this potion usually does not explode. In your case, I dare say it might,” said the professor harshly. “It is never enough to merely know the ingredients. One must also know how they are prepared and used. And for immediate future reference, they are to be crushed and blotted dry.”

Sophia was amazed that he did not take points from Ravenclaw as he finished writing out the very detailed instructions for the potion.

“What color should this potion be when you’re finished?” asked Krohn, looking around the classroom at the bright-eyed Ravenclaws and the Hufflepuffs with their heads down, trying to avoid even looking at him, least they should be called upon to answer.

Sophia raised her hand again. She rather thought that Olivia would know this one too as she was usually aware of what a finished product should look like, even if getting it there was more than a bit of a problem, but none of her friends or fellow students attempted to answer their professor’s question. At first she thought that Krohn was going to pretend that she didn’t exist, but then he motioned for her to speak.

“A translucent green, sir,” Sophia answered.

“Bubbles by any chance?” he asked.

She gave him a quizzical look, but said, “I don’t think so.”

“Very good. If there are bubbles, please, step away from your cauldron and inform me immediately as it is a prelude to a nasty aromatic reaction caused by an overabundance of daisy roots and not enough of the dragon’s claw and porcupine quills,” said Krohn in a very exacting tone.

Sophia felt her stomach flip-flop as she watched Olivia pass Sissy a small bit of parchment under the table. There would be hell to pay if Krohn caught them. She watched Sissy smirk as she read it and hastily scribbled something back to Olivia. Corinna was unwisely looking at them both with great interest, although she almost certainly couldn’t read the note. Sophia began to sweat as a wide grin spread across Olivia’s face. On some level she was thankful that there was no more room upon which to write on the parchment. If only Olivia had had the good sense to tuck it away....

“What have we here?” asked Professor Krohn, looming over the table that the four Ravenclaws shared.

Sophia started, having failed to noticed his approach. To the professor’s credit, he could move rather quickly and quietly for a man of his size. In fact, it could be rather eerie at times.

“Nothing, professor,” stammered Olivia, balling the note up in her hands as quickly as she could.

He raised an eyebrow and held out his hand to her. He wanted the piece of parchment, and there was no way that Olivia could refuse to give it to him. Sophia realized that Olivia had turned pale instead of the expected scarlet. Whatever was in that note was certainly not just idle chit-chat about class. That would not have been sufficient to frighten Olivia, not by a long-shot. Sophia risked a glance at Sissy to find her lips pressed into a thin, anxious line.

Professor Krohn took his time uncrumpling the note, making Olivia squirm. Sophia found herself fighting the urge to do the same.

“Let me see ... Should I read it to the class or not?” he asked.

The Hufflepuffs looked at him dully, a few of them even shook their heads, not wanting to see their classmates embarrassed like that. Their male Ravenclaw year mates were obviously very concerned about the loss points, but curious too. Chang looked a bit expectant, having already decided that Krohn would read the note without any encouragement from his students. He was correct in his assumption.

“I believe I should read it,” said the professor, looking at Sissy and Olivia, the chief culprits in the matter. He cleared his throat and began, “Another easy potion for Sophia. She’ll definitely show us up again.” He faltered slightly as he read it and glanced at the student in question before turning the note over. “But the old bear will never let her know that. He never does ...” Krohn finished, or perhaps he merely chose to stop there, realizing that he had only succeeded in embarrassing relatively unoffending Miss Colville by reading the note. For the moment he didn’t even seem to take offense at being referred to as ‘the old bear’.

Sophia, on the other hand, had turned crimson and was staring down at her desk. She bit her lip as her eyes began to sting. She knew how her friends felt about Professor Krohn, not to mention her steady defense of him, but she couldn’t imagine why they would be writing notes about her like that. It was very cruel. She never tried to show them up. She was just good at potions, like Sissy was at defense, Olivia at Charms, and Corinna at Transfigurations. She never boasted about it, and she always tried to help them improve their marks whenever she could.

“Well, that was ... educational,” said Professor Krohn as he looked down at Sophia. The hard expression had left his face. He tucked the note into a pocket and walked back to the front of the classroom. “Please gather your ingredients and begin. Time is a bit short,” he said to the class, acting as though nothing had happened.

Sophia and Corinna worked together in silence on their potion, but it was obvious that Sophia remained bothered and upset by the contents of the note. She had difficulty concentrating on her work, but managed to brew the draught correctly, although its color was slightly cloudier than it should have been. Nevertheless, Professor Krohn filled a vial of it and labeled the potion as ‘acceptable’.

Sophia was glad of that considering how many of the ingredients Corinna had added. She was too inattentive, too much of a day-dreamer to be very good at potions, but Sophia never faulted her for it, attributing those characteristics to her gift. Odd little drawbacks, Sophia had thought, but now, the afternoon following the attack on Alastor Moody that Corinna had foreseen, she felt more sympathetic for the plight of her friend.

“I bet Sissy and Olivia will turn on her too eventually. Just as soon as she gets top marks in Divinations,” thought Sophia a bit sourly.

Even so, she did realize that she was being a bit unfair and should not unjustly accuse the two of them without hearing them out first. This she planned to do after class was over.

The potions’ master felt a certain satisfaction when he instructed the four young witches to remain after class that afternoon while everyone else rushed out to enjoy another snowy day out of doors or perhaps to adjourn to the library or their common room. He rather enjoyed the fact that he was going to see to their punishment himself for the unfortunate incident in the corridors that morning. They would not get out of it so easily this time.

“I have the first of your additional work for you,” said Krohn with a slightly smirking expression.

He had four rolled up parchments on the corner of his desk that contained information on the aforementioned assignments, which had been carefully thought out. Each parchment had the name of one of the girls on it. Krohn knew something of their skills, their strengths and weaknesses, and their interests from having them in class for the better part of two years. Each of the tasks would be quite excruciating in its own particular way.

But after the earlier situation concerning the note, the professor felt badly about causing Miss Colville any more grief, despite the fact that she had seemed just as involved as the others in the near altercation with his students. He imagined that she was only following the lead of Scarrow and Howard. And just look where it had got her.

He visibly grimaced as he thought about the rather unkind note. Miss Colville was intelligent, but that went without saying; she was a Ravenclaw. But she was not a show off by his estimation of such things. She was merely a good student where potions were concerned whereas the others were oftentimes less than adequate.

Krohn looked at her carefully as he gave her the assignment he had devised. He did not lavish praise on any student, deserving or no. The words for things of that nature did not come easily to him, and surely recklessly encouraging a student would only lead to complacency and arrogance.

He frowned. “No, not in her case. Miss Colville would never let anything go to her head,” he thought to himself.

“Please, stay for a moment,” Krohn told her. “I think I should clarify something about your task as it is more complex than that of your classmates,” he added in an impassive tone.

He hoped that it grated, but truthfully, the girls all had other things on their minds, except for Sophia, who was paying attention and felt oddly grateful for what she perceived as an attempt at making her feel better.

“Give that back, would you?” he asked, reaching out his hand for the parchment.

Sophia did as he requested, but asked, “Is it really more complex than their assignments?”

“Only a bit,” he said, opening the parchment and picking up a quill. He scratched out a few lines, which Sophia could not read, and made a few notes. “You really are a very good student. If none of your professors tell you that, you really should speak with your head of house or ... or something. I really can’t imagine that Professor Knowles or the new instructor in Transfigurations are overlooking your potential ...” he rambled as he scribbled, not looking up at her as he felt a bit foolish.

“No, sir, I ... that is, I’m not very good at either of those subjects ... but I do well enough, I suppose, and all of my professors, even Professor Knowles, are ... quite nice,” she stammered, blushing furiously at his compliments.

“Just me then, is it?” he asked with a sneering smile, looking up from the parchment.

He had made an attempt at giving her a less tedious and horrible task than cataloguing the types of worms used in potions. Krohn had changed it to flowers. It was the best that he could think of at the moment, though he thought it a bit silly. True to what he had said, it was, however, a bit more complicated.

“I would never presume ...” Sophia began.

“Rubbish. I know what students think of me. Old bear? That is perhaps a bit unflattering. Or it would have been if ...” he said as his lips twitched slightly. For a moment it looked as though a genuine smile might come to his face, but instead he looked away and frowned, suddenly somber.

“If, sir?”

“If a bear had not been my father’s Animagus form,” he finished. “The old bastard could do nearly anything. I must confess, at times I hated him for it...” Krohn said softly.

“I’m sorry,” said Sophia quietly, not knowing what to make of his admission.

“Don’t be. It isn’t your place,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Not that I am attempting to keep you in it. Your ... friends, now they could certainly do with someone to keep them in theirs,” he said with disgruntled look as he masterfully changed the subject.

“It’s usually me. I try ...”

“Do you really?” he asked, suddenly looking very interested. “I would imagine that to be rather burdensome.”

“It isn’t,” she shrugged, “and someone has to look out for them.”

“They should be more appreciative,” he commented.

Sophia considered that for a moment, and Krohn, observing her thoughtful silence, wondered if he had perhaps upset her.

“For the most part ... they are in their own ways. They take me quite seriously, you know, though I wish they would listen a bit more when I advise them ... to be more cautious and things like that. Maybe I’m not forceful enough, but I don’t like arguments,” she said calmly. “Things usually work out well enough in the end without bothering with raised voices and strong words. Most of the time they aren’t necessary,” Sophia added.

Krohn wanted to ask her many things concerning caution and recent events, but he did not know if he would like the answers he received.

“Wise words,” he said, not untruthfully, “especially for one of your years.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said, smiling slightly.

Reynard reached into his pocket and removed the wrinkled note. He looked at it and sighed inwardly.

“Would you like to have it?” he asked her.

Sophia chewed her lower lip anxiously and said, “I suppose I would, though I feel childish.”

“Don’t. In your place I would not give up the chance to see their words for myself,” said Krohn, giving the scrap of parchment to her.

She looked at the last words of the note for herself, the ones he had not read to the class.

“But she still respects him just the same. Poor Sophia.”

Only Sissy’s fine and graceful hand could fit so much onto such a little note. Sophia smiled just a bit at the message contained therein. Not half so jealous as it first seemed without that addendum.

“Funny that so poor a wizard should command the respect of a witch with such great potential,” said Krohn with an ironic smile and a small, ever-so-slightly deferential nod.

Sophia blushed and countered, “You aren’t a poor wizard, sir. You’re a brilliant potions’ master. Just last term I heard Professor Dumbledore compliment your skill. Everyone knows you’re one of the best brewers of complex draughts in all of England.”

“To be a good wizard or witch, it requires more than one area of expertise. From what I know of your marks, you are already well on your way to besting me in Charms, Transfigurations, and ... independent study.”

“Independent study?” she asked quizzically.

“Your adventures with your friends,” he said with a smirk.

“Very amusing, I’m sure, professor,” she said in a tone that let him know that it was anything but.

“Misadventures then,” he said, growing markedly more somber.

Sophia sensed a lecture coming and fidgeted slightly.

“No, I won’t say anything, Miss Colville. If what happened to Mister Moody did not teach you this lesson, the nothing I can say will matter one whit,” he said, shaking his head.

“About the danger we’re in? I don’t think I needed a lesson about that. None of us went looking for the vampire yesterday. It came for Martin,” she replied.

“You knew that?” he asked, narrowing his eyes slightly. He found the idea of Miss Colville knowing about sinister Professor Somerville very disconcerting and displeasing, no matter how little she might know.

“Yes, and we couldn’t let it just take him, could we?” she asked.

He shook his head and said, “I suppose not, but you should exercise caution nonetheless.”

“We did what we could, given the nature of the situation,” she said quietly, but firmly, unwilling to give any quarter.

Krohn studied her for a moment and nodded somberly.

“Not exactly my finest hour either,” he said, taking the leather tie from his hair and letting it fall forward to shroud his face somewhat. “I have no cause to fault your conduct nor that of your friends in that matter,” Krohn sighed bitterly.

“Seeing what that creature did to Martin’s uncle gave me a bit of a turn too,” Sophia confessed.

“But you kept the contents of your stomach where they belonged,” he pointed out with a grimace.

“Barely,” she replied with a similar expression. She wasn’t certain how she had accomplished it. Perhaps it was because so much had been going on at the time. Perhaps because she had already been so thoroughly terrified.

“Horrible, wasn’t it?” he asked, ducking his head and thereby fully obscuring his face from her view. “I know I’ve never seen anything that quite compares,” said Krohn softly.

He shuddered. It had been many years since he had been forced to contend with such horror, much to the same result. Krohn had not been ill when he had first learned that his siblings had been killed during the war, but when certain trophies had been gifted to him by Grindelwald, their former master, that had been his reaction. Likewise when Myrtle Meeks’ body was found in the girls’ lavatory. Hardly a proud history, but it was his, such that it was. What had been done to Moody haunted him too, despite his general and understandable dislike for the man.

Sophia stepped to the other side of his desk and cautiously touched his shoulder. She thought he smiled faintly at this, but could not be certain. She couldn’t quite put into to words the emotion that she felt, which was not precisely sympathy nor commiseration, though it contained elements of both, but rather an unexpected feeling of what Sophia could only define as something of a likeness of mind. But despite that, she could not think of anything to say to the professor.

“I don’t know how long this cat and mouse with Somerville will go on, but if it continues much longer, I ... I may give notice. I’m no use when it comes to fighting -- don’t contradict me -- and I haven’t the stomach for this either. But I’d rather it not come as a shock to you,” he said, placing one cold hand on top of hers.

“Sometimes I think I would like to leave too ... if I could. Then I think of my studies and my friends and try harder not to give in to the fear,” she told him.

“And I think of going home again and realize that nothing remains there for me anymore,” he said, recalling the year when Miss Meeks was killed by a nameless horror that turned out to be an Acromantula, if the word of Tom Riddle could be trusted. Krohn had never been entirely sure about that young man.

The professor had wanted to leave then, but the war would permit no return home for him then. He had been trapped. Now, he had little home to which to return. The lands of his family had been seized and the small castle where he had grown up lay in ruins. He had no home other than Hogwarts. No where to which he could run when he wanted to do so. And even so, this situation still made him want to flee.

“I’m sorry,” said Sophia almost automatically.

“Yes, aren’t we all,” he said.

Krohn took her hand from his shoulder and brushed his hair from his face with his other hand. They had been talking, nearly as equals, for a very long time now. He did not think it wise to do so any longer. Familiarity breeds contempt, they say.

“I have work to do, Miss Colville, as do you. Good afternoon,” he said rather abruptly.

Sophia was not surprised. She had been expecting it for sometime.

“Yes, good afternoon, professor,” she nodded before going on her way. She had much to think about, not the least of which was a note that she tucked into her pocket.

---